#no comment you can try and decipher this on your own

[ddejavvu]

don't mind me i'm just thinking about how Eddie Munson would SO pretend to be someone you know if you come up to him in a store or so and whisper to him how this guy has been creeping you out for ages 'n he would take to his role so well 😭 i need to shift dimensions I need to be with this guy

i'd commit unspeakable horrors to be his girlfriend

--

You almost feel bad practically tackling the man from behind. All he was doing was grabbing a can of soup off of the shelf, and you made him your impromptu best friend.

He lurches forward at the contact, and turns to look at you with fire in his eyes. You're absolutely certain he's going to scold you, but he sizes you up at his eyes soften slightly. He raises one eyebrow, a silent 'what the fuck do you want?' and you ramble breathlessly.

"Please pretend you're my friend," You whisper, the squeaky wheels of the cart you're dreading the owner of coming towards you down the aisle, "He's following me and I don't know what to do."

He doesn't even blink. His face doesn't shift in the slightest, and for a quick moment you're unsure whether he heard you at all. But his arm curls around your own, and he spins you to face the soups.

"-so I was thinking chicken and stars, but R2-D2 absolutely kills as a noodle," He drawls, ringed fingers gesturing vaguely at each can that he names, "'S whatever you want, babe."

You hear your supermarket stalker's wheels squeak to a stop at the end of the aisle, and you don't dare turn to see his face. You'd prefer never to see it again, a reminder of the lewd comment he'd made in the produce section about melons.

"Star Wars," You decide, plucking the can off of the shelf and handing it to him, "Uh, thank you."

"Now we need," He squints at his list, tongue poking out of his mouth and sticking to his upper lip, "Ritz crackers, and chicken for tomorrow night."

He mimes looking for the crackers, noticing the man standing at the end of the aisle, waiting.

"Oh, sorry," He lifts the back wheels of the cart with the handle, scooting it sideways so that the man can pass, though you both know he doesn't want to, "Were we in your way? Go ahead, we're gonna be here for a while."

The man stares at you, you can feel it. But your new best friend sets a hand gently, politely on the small of your back, leading you around him and sandwiching you between the aisle and him. He holds the list out in front of you, "Babe, can you tell what that says? Can't even read my own writing," He laughs good-naturedly, "I think it says 'blueberries'?"

"Or blub errands," You try deciphering his messy scrawl, weight lifting from your shoulders as the man finally decides to move, crossing your path and bumping the wheel of your new cart as he does.

"Definitely blub errands," The boy beside you snickers, glancing at the reflective panel of the aisle beside him to watch for when the man finally turns a corner, "Some nice improv, babe."

You're not sure why he's still using the nickname, the man is out of earshot. But you're too relieved to care, physically relaxing as your shoulders slump.

"Oh my god," You let out a much bigger breath than you intend to, almost dizzying yourself, "Thank you so much. I just- he was always there and I didn't know what to do! I'm sorry I almost knocked you over," You turn sheepish, eyeing his ankle that you're fairly certain he'd twisted in the meetup, "Are you okay?"

"You're fine," He waves off your apology, rolling the ankle in question with a cheeky grin, "I'm tough."

"You look it," You eye him up and down, a silver chain dangling from his belt that's almost covered by a leather jacket, "Do you have, like, a really big tattoo of a heart with a knife through it on your arm? Bonus points if it says mom."

He laughs incredulously, shrugging the shoulder of his jacket off to prove you wrong, "Uh, no, but thanks for the idea."

You let out a laugh, something that seems impossible considering how scared you just were, but one that comes naturally. The boy you'd found seems to be the type you'd go for both in and out of a life-threatening scenario, and you're starting to wonder if you'll get this lucky with any real relationships you're in.

"Well, listen," He stuffs the list in his pocket, a scrap of the paper sticking out, "I've only got a few more things. If you want, we can check out together," He motions towards the hand-held basket you're holding, "'Cause I don't think that guy's gone. I'd offer you a ride home," He reaches a hand up to scratch aimlessly at the nape of his neck, "But I drive a van, and I think me asking you to get into it would be creepier than anything that guy did."

"It's okay!" You assure him, a light laugh escaping you at his earnestness, "I'm sure I'll be fine driving home. But seriously, thank you," You smile at him, clutching the handles of your basket tighter in an effort not to hug him, "I really appreciate this."

"Anytime, babe." There's that nickname again, paired with the grin you'd seen before, "Now come walk with me, you're helping me find the blub errands."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hc #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson dialogue #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fanfiction

[plutoswritingplanet]

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt.4 (final)

a/n: we did it Joe! this chapter officially marks the first ever series i've completed lmao. thank you for all the support on this fic, every like, every comment, every out-of-pocket anon ask.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (like...fr this time), Blood and Violence, Manipulation.

Summary: After the wedding, Husband and Wife work out the intricate web of their relationship.

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3

Gurney looks at you as if you're already dead.

You hide from his gaze, ducking behind pillars, whenever you can hear his footsteps. It's truly depressing, the way your mentor shakes his head, as if, instead of looking at you, he's looking at a coffin. You suppose he might be right, he's the one with the most experience in the Harkonnen area. He's fought them, dined with them, seen their customs through and through. And now, his dutiful little student is about to be thrown into the very same world, he has relayed to you as a nightmarish fairytale. Still, a little misplaced optimism wouldn't kill him. Or just, a sliver of hope, an inclination that you might survive this. 

The day of your wedding rolls upon you like an oceanic storm, all chaos and rumbling. 

Here you sit, your bones locked with nerves, as the servants pack away your things. A futile thing, you muse to yourself. It's highly doubtful the Harkonnens will let you keep any personal items back from Caladan. They'll mold you into their image, until all your hair naturally falls out. The thought would make you laugh, but here's a servant, placing your jewelry into a case, which lands in a bag, which will be transported to the Harkonnen ship by the end of the day.

Your room, the place you've spent all your life in, slowly becomes more and more barren. 

The closet stands empty, so do the drawers. All your trinkets are swiftly transported away until you're left alone in your wedding dress, the only familiar thing between the hollow ribs of your life's sanctuary. Wishing you could fold the entirety of the castle, with the stables, and the horses, and the cliffs, and throw it into the final suitcase, so you can open it up in times of turmoil, and breathe in the familiar scents. You need to leave, right now. Sitting like this, wrenches a dangerous numbness out of your chest. And you can't be allowed to dissapear into yourself. You're an Atreides, you shall wear your pain with dignity, as per your Mother's wishes.

Your wedding dress swishes around you, as you stand up from your bed. It's much more classy, and less of a chiffon catastrophe, than your engagement dress, a welcome change. The veil is embroidered with light crystals and metal plating. It falls heavily over your face, and jingles when you move. By all intents and purposes, it is a dream dress. A dress you'd like to wear for a wedding of your own, a wedding with some dashing gentleman. A gentleman, which in your most private of dreams, has the face of Duncan Idaho, with silver rings braided into his hair. 

Instead, you're left with this monster, so alien and cold. A beast at the center of the maze.

The bull looks at you from the wall. Its horns, smeared with your Grandfather's blood, curl grotesquely into the ceiling. The head is mounted above the doors to the library, a grim reminder of his spectacular death. As a child, you'd spend hours, standing right here, at the entrance, staring at the animal's head. You've always wondered, whether it were the lights playing tricks on your mind, or you saw a shadow of pride in the bull's eyes. 

Did it know who was its victim? The leader of one of the most important Houses in all known universe laid dead at its feet. Did it know what sort of spectacle it produced? What destruction of hubris? You suppose it couldn't, it was an animal, after all. A headless creature, hung on a wall. Still, you stare at it, just like you used to, trying to decipher your own fate from its cold, dead eyes.  

After all, there will be a spectacle, a life-long fight stands ahead of you. Giedi Prime shall be your arena, dead and cold, covered in black. And every single Harkonnen will be your bull, their mere presence a deathly danger to your being. It took one bull to end your Grandfather, you dread to think how many it'll take to end you. There will be blood, you're sure of it. And if things were allowed to go your way, it would flow in rivers upon rivers, through the industrial halls of Giedi Prime. You'd have the entire planet drowned in their blood. Your cursed betrothed, the Baron, the fucking Emperor if you had to. 

The bull laughs at your quiet hate, beady eyes bearing down upon you in an imaginary display of indifference. You huff, cheeks reddened, insides twisted and burning.

That's how your Father finds you. Enchanted by a once living instrument of death. 

He hasn't spoken to you, since your betrothed has arrived, not really. Not like you used to talk. A way to shield himself, you supposed, from the Emperor's order, which will soon enough take his only Daughter away from him. This was your superpower. You could fish out signs of love in every action. 

- Your Mother hates that thing - he comments, as he stands next to you, eyes looking up at the bull. 

- I don't blame her, the sight is quite disturbing. - you reply evenly. 

You've missed him, more than you can possibly explain with words. But teary displays of affections were below you, especially since you're trying to distance yourself, rise above your body, float right out of your head. Perhaps it'll hurt less that way.  Duke Leto Atreides turns to you, and for the first time in a month, you recognize your Father behind this statue of authority. He looks troubled, for lack of a better word. There's much more gray on his brow and the lines of his face are darker, harsher. 

- I came to give you something - he announces, producing a small object out of the pocket of his trousers. 

It's harder than you thought, tearing your gaze away from the bull, but you manage, your eyes landing on a figurine in your Father's hands. Your heart stops, as you recognize the blackened stone, polished to perfection. On a flat disc stands a figure of a Matador, proud and posed. Next to him, a bull, ready to strike. It's cold to the touch, when you take it from your Father, ridges of the small sculpture digging into your palm. 

Jumping in front of danger, for better or worse. Your head starts to hurt.

- Father - the sound of your shaking voice carries through the corridor - How will I ever survive this?

By the way Duke Leto Atreides sucks in a sharp breath, you can deduce the answer. And what a sad answer it is. 

Your Father steps closer, gathering your trembling hands in his, the warmth of his embrace engulfing you like the first sun rays of spring. He squeezes your fingers, tightening your own hold on the small figurine, and his eyes are so incredibly sad, you're convinced they could make any heart in the universe weep. 

- With courage - he says - and grandiose. 

Like a true Matador would. 

***

Your bull stands completely still. 

His pale skin creates a beautiful contrast against the ever present darkness of the Harkonnen ship. It's so much different from your native fleet, all sleek and black, and efficient. Terrifying, but at the same time, strangely beautiful. 

The both of you watch, as the hatch is being pulled up, slowly but surely obscuring all sight of your home planet. Of your family, standing by the docking station like a funeral parade. It's only when you can no longer see them, your life sealed with a click of finality, does your betrothed, now husband, move. 

His hand grasps your upper shoulder, and you jump at the sudden contact. Your confused gaze is completely ignored, as the man drags you through the ship, taking large, hasty steps. 

Hairless faces swish past you, all so similar to each other, you're worried you'll never figure out who is who. The corridors of the ship wind and turn like a merciless labyrinth, a realization daunting on you, that you will never be able to find your way in this place. 

Suddenly, you're faced with a black door, which opens as soon as your husband walks up to it. His grip tightens and he basically throws you forward, watching you stumble through the entrance on weak legs. 

It takes you a second to gather yourself, as you instinctually settle into a defensive stance. The room you're in looks quite different from the rest of the ship. It's much more luxurious, one would risk saying cozy. With a gigantic, round bed filled with pillows, a dark desk, and a deliciously comfortable looking armchair. It all dims in your eyes, however, as you look up at your newlywed.

He stands right at the entrance, blocking the only means of escape with his tall frame.

Both of you are still in your wedding clothes. Your dress hugs your body in a way that is anything but comforting. His outfit is as black and sharp, as all his attire. It exposes his lean physique, clings to his warrior's physique. Terrifying, your brain summarizes, muscles freezing suddenly. Feyd Rautha looks at you with emotions you can't decipher in the low light of his room. Your room. Your marital abode. 

You can't breathe, lungs tighten painfull with the sheer thickness of the air between the two of you. Still, there's a certain power, residing in your bones, an inclination of a fight you're ready to put up, should he try anything. And by the way his brow bone settles over his darkened eyes, your husband seems to understand. What a terrifying thought. The sheer idea of finding a common ground with this awful man makes your guts turn. 

He doesn't even flinch, when the doors behind him slide open. You however, nearly jump out of your skin at the sound, cutting through the deafening silence of the bedroom. With furrowed brow you watch, as three Harkonnen women spill into the room. All of them completely hairless, lips pulled back in feral snarls, as they regard you with an emotion you can only interpret as contempt. Their bodies, clad in typical, Harkonnen garments, flow and slither, when they gather behind your husband, like three hungry lionesses, their black eyes flickering to him, to you. 

- Get her ready - Fey Rautha throws a command over his shoulder, eyes glued to you still, and his gaze drags itself across your body like tar.

This is the first time you've heard him speak since the wedding, and involuntarily, you cringe at the gravely sound. While he stayed silent, it was easy to forget who you're dealing with. But as soon as sound leaves his mouth, you're cruelly reminded of the roughness, and the strangeness of your life's partner. 

The three women stir behind him, hands sliding up his body in a gesture, that is almost too close to reverence. He does look like a young god, like some ethereal being, but you're too distressed to dwell on that thought. Instead, your arms encircle your body, a shiver of terror and strangely, disgust flowing over you, at the mere idea of these women touching you. Then, one of those three strange creatures moves forward. She has a stripe of black running down her bottom lip, and her face twists into a cruel smile.

She says something in a language you don't recognize. Probably a native Harkonnen. A rough bark, her disgusted expression translating the meaning better, than any dictionary would. 

 Still, you have no time to process the foreign insult, because as soon as words leave her mouth, your husband turns. His white hand grabs the woman's hairless head, as one would pick an apple from an orchard, and then, you see a flicker of true terror flash through the woman's face. In a smooth, deadly gesture, Feyd Rautha smashes her face against the wall, the resounding sound of her skull fracturing against the concrete is like the cracking of a whip in your ears. 

That's all it takes, one move, and she falls into a lifeless heap, sliding down the wall. 

A sigh escapes your lips, as your eyes stay glued to her body. You can't see her face. 

Your husband barks something towards the remaining two women, and they scurry towards you, heads hung low, bodies curled onto themselves. You don't know, whether he looks at you, acknowledges you in any way, shape or form. The doors close behind him, as he leaves you in the hands of his... Whatever these women are to him. 

They begin to strip you where you stand. Their hands peel off your wedding dress from your trembling body, and every move feels like tearing skin from muscle. You can't protest, can't do anything really. Dark, thick blood pools around the third woman's head, dripping between the tilled floor, slowly making it's way closer to your feet. 

When they pull you towards the bed, you say nothing. Let them massage your body with some ointment, which smells of heavy chemicals and scratches your throat. 

Their hands are unexpectedly delicate. You suppose they're too scared to take revenge on you, or perhaps, they just don't care. Doesn't really matter, because you do. You really care, despite yourself. Heart squeezes in your chest impossibly tight, when they help you up from the bed, and once again you're confronted with the white corpse in the corner of the room. 

The dress they pull over your body hardly qualifies as a garment in your eyes. It's made of delicate, sheer material, which barely covers anything, looking more like a courtain thrown over a window. 

Is this how he wants you, you wonder. Terrified, bare, always on the verge of something, be it tears or anger. 

One of the women steps in front of you, takes your hands in hers and rubs something into your cold bones. You try to catch her eye, try to decipher how to categorize them, as humans or as creatures, but she swiftly ducks under your inquisitive gaze. That is, until your eyes flicker towards the corpse once again. 

Her hand shoots up towards your chin, dragging you back to meet her onyx eyes. You can see the reflection of your own confused face in the void.

- You- she rasps, her voice a grating symphony of gurgles and growls that stumble over the common language - Soft.

Whether it's a warning, or a threat, you can't fully decide, but it doesn't matter. Those two words tell you more about your future life, than any book, any archived account. This is what the Harkonnens are made of. Sensless violence, outbursts of anger, dark blood. You swallow thickly, and nod, your expression hardening in the woman's eyes. She looks as if there's something else she'd want to say, but her head ducks at record speed, when the sound of the doors opening cuts through the air once more. 

For a longer moment you're completely devoid of words. 

Here stands you husband, some sort of fruit in his right hand, two daggers hanging from the belt on his trousers. His chest, white and (unfortunately) toned beyond belief stares back at you. His unoccupied hand makes a wide gesture, and the remaining two women scurry off towards their third, dead companion. With quick hands, they grab the body and drag it out of the room, letting the door slide closed behind them. Immediately, you miss their presence, unnerving as they are.

Once again, you're left alone with the na-Baron. 

His eyes float freely all over your figure, taking it in with an impassive stare. It's deeply unnerving, the way you're presented to him, the way he organized all of this, tailored it to his liking. You can't help it, the way your body begins to warm before him, skin becoming prickly to the touch, much too sensitive for the strange imitation of fabric covering it. Still, your mind stays sharp, and instinct kicks in, as you take a cautious step back, angling your bady away from him. 

- So, what now? - you ask, voice rough, eyes following his every move. 

And move he does, slowly advancing towards you. His feet, which you now discover, are bare, drag behind him. Grace and danger mix well within his movements, as he circles you, still without a word. You throat runs dry, when he bites the fruit in his hand, dark juice spilling all over his lips, drops rolling down his hands, his forearms. Your stomach churns. 

- Now - again you're reminded of the gravely tones his voice can carry - We consumate our marriage, wife. 

Somehow, your marital status sounds like a mockery spilling from his lips, and he laughs at the way your face scrunches.

- I don't want you to touch me - a lie, your entire body burns for any semblence of friction, but you're determined to keep some dignity.

To that, he nods his head in silent agreement, a gesture, which actually manages to surprise you. The fruit is thrown forgotten onto the floor. It rolls under the bed, and you fight the urge to reprimend your husband. Instead, you bite your lip. 

- I thought you would say that - he murmurs, coming closer, his breath fanning over your exposed shoulder. 

The hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you crane your head to the side, so you can look him in the face. So he can see the disaproving expression, perhaps he'd feel a fraction of the hate boiling in your gaze. Then, you can feel something, cold and sharp, drag itself from the dip in your spine, all the way up to your shoulder blades. A gasp escapes you, and your entire body shivers violently. 

- That's why I brought these. - Feyd Rautha whispers into your ear, and you can't help but sway lightly in your place, as if his words have the power to physically move you.

Then, your hand closes around a metal object, and you look down to be met with a beautifully crafted dagger. The blade is silver, shiny, and unbelievably sharp. It fits into your grasp as if it was made specially for you, and the possibility almost makes you smile. Then, confusion creases your brow, and your husband flashes you a deadly, black smile, as he steps back a couple of steps. 

He's holding a blade as well, jet black and strangely matte, a perfect antitype of yours. There's a sort of lazy excitement about him, hidden in every movement. It reminds you of the way he'd behave in the arena, while making a spectacle of death for you and your family. 

- I though this would work on you - he muses, twirling the blade in his hand, and your muscles seize with realization. - And it definitely works on me.

The idea is preposterous, utterly scandalous. Using a fight as some perverse attempt at foreplay, your brain swimms with conflicting emotions. 

- You're being ridiculous - you attempt to diffuse the situation, but your husband doesn't budge, rolling his shoulders.

- Come on, wife - he snarls, with a sharp smirk - Don't you want to hurt me?

Something boils inside of you at his words. Some ancient, terrifying anger that you supposed, has always been there with you. From the moment you stepped onto the red carpet, leading you towards your undoing at the altar. Red, like the spilled blood still staining the floor of this bedroom. The rage, which you swallowed down, when you recited the vows, when you let him unveil your face, kiss you in front of the entire Atreides court. Now, it seeped through every pore in your skin, covering you in a tar like courtain. 

You hate your husband. You hate Feyd Rautha, the na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

Hate him for being your husband, for agreeing to this cruel match. For taking you away from your family, from your wise Father, and your strict Mother, and your sweet Brother. For ripping you away from love, which didn't even have time to properly bloom. Duncan's face dances in front of you like a taunting vision from an angry god, and your fingers tighten around the dagger. 

Feyd Rautha is right. You want to hurt him. You wanted to, before you even met him. 

- There you are - his lips pull back into a cruel, blackened smile of self-satisfaction - I was worried they took away all your venom, Viper. 

You'll show him fucking venom, you think, feet sliding on the floor, twisting your body into a dancing position. Two sets of shields click into life, and suddenly you begin to understand. 

This is your arena. This is your bull. 

This will be your battlefield for the rest of your life, for as long as you're able to withstand it. With courage and grandiose, your Father's voice haunts you, but soon after another echo rises in your mind. Your Mother, your teacher, her whisper slithers from your memory, a passing comment right before you're shipped off to Giedi Prime, when she squeezed your hand so tight, you were worried tendons under your skin would snap. 

Excitement and arousal flow freely from your husband's expression, as he watches yours harden. Something inexplicable settles over your features, a promise. You'll give him a fight of a lifetime, and he'll love it, every single time. It should unnerve you, the way his body lowers itself, like a panther ready to strike. It would've unnerved you some time ago. 

Now, however, it shows you a clear path to survival. This is how you take control.

Cold blood splatters from under your feet, as you jump towards him, a series of measured blows following closely behind. He blocks them, lets some be pushed back by the shield. Then, he's on you, brutal and unhibited slashes fly around your body, and you meet all of them with a blocking blade. You're pushed back, towards the wall, where remains of the previous killing still stain the concrete. Blood seeps into the thin fabric on your body, and you shiver in disgust, as it sticks to you. 

Your husband doesn't notice, his blade leaves a rather deep mark in the wall, as you duck under his arm, and avoid a nasty punch to the gut.

 Plap, plap, plap, your feet carry you through the room, as you try to gain some leverage. The mattress on the bed is surprisingly soft, when you climb on top of it, gaining the advantage of a higher position. An advantage, which is quickly torn out of your hands, as your husband grabs onto your ankle, tugging at it with such force, you tumble down in an instant.

Panic rises in your gut, as the world sins around you, and without really thinking, you let your mind flow into autopilot.

- Let me go! - the Voice tears out of your throat like a landslide, and Feyd Rautha throws himself off of you, his body colliding with the nearby desk. 

Books and papers crash to the floor with the force of his figure. Your head swimms, but you will it away, too focused on survival to care for your well-being. Both of you are panting, trying to recover from this sudden use of ancient magics. 

- I should rip that treacherous tongue right out of your skull - the threat would carry more strength, if your husband's expression wasn't absolutely dripping with unabashed lust. 

Never in your life has someone looked at you this way, and the shock of emotions is enough to pull you right to your feet. Your blade reflects the dim lights of the room, as you raise it high, body taunt and ready. 

- You'll never get that close.

A challenge, which doesn't even have enough time to properly resound in the thick air of the room, before Feyd Rautha pushes himself off the desk. Things clatter to the ground from the force of his movements, and you barely have time to react, when his blade sinks into your shield. Your body flies backwards, falling in heap with his at the foot of your marital bed. The edge digs into your back, your left hand pressed tightly into the mattress. 

He's hovering over you, panting like a wild animal, face illuminated red from below, where, just short of his juggular, your blade licks a stripe across his alabaster skin. His right hand is wedged between your bodies, dagger nicking you under your ribs. And you stay in this position, like a marble statue, your eyes melting into his, frozen in time. 

- You fought well, Atreides - his voice rumbles deep within his chest, and you can't help, but snarl at his words. - We would've taken each other to an early grave. 

Something dangerously close to fondness floods his features at the idea, and your fingers start to unravel, letting go of the dagger one by one. He doesn't have a chance to react, when your blade clatters to the floor, and your hand, now free, grabs the back of his head, pulling him down.

Your kiss opens the gates of hell, and soon, his own dagger is thrown across the room. You can't see, refuse to see, as your eyelids flutter closed. His lips are slightly chapped, but not any less delicious. Left hand thrashes in his hold, until he lets it go. Then, they both find purchase against his sharp cheekbones, and you hold him so tight, you might break his face with your ministrations. 

- I knew it would work - he pants against your lips, you can hear the smile in every syllable.

- Shut the fuck up - you snarl, fingers digging deeper into his skin.

He groans into the kiss, immediately forcing his tongue into your mouth, as his hands work hard to manouver your legs open enough, for him to slot in between. Then, his touch is everywhere. On your legs, he drags the sheer fabric up and down your thighs, as he carresses your skin, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your hips. They venture upwards, to grab at your breasts, they fight their way into your hair, where he pulls and scrapes. 

It doesn't matter, you think, when you hear the fabric tear, and the carefully chosen attire falls from your body. Nothing matters. 

You're boneless and defenseless against this one insidious emotion, which carries your every move, which compells you to arch your back, to reveal your running pulse under his searching lips. Feyd Rautha bites down on your skin, right where your neck meets your shoulder, and you respond in kind, head descending upon his porcelain skin. He shudders under your teeth and tongue, his entire body tensing.

This is how you take control, and you've never felt so greedy. 

His trousers aren't even fully off of his legs, when he enters you, clumsily and with urgency, bare feet sliding on the floor. Surprisingly inexperienced, he chases your core with his entire body, as if the heat of your insides in a completely foreign sensation.Your moan tears at the column of your throat, where his lips leave a trail of purple marks. The covers remains undisturbed, as your husband ruts into you, pressing your back harder against the edge of the bed. It's uncomfortable, it's hurtful, but somehow, it feels perfect for the two of you. Fucking like wild animals, not even able to make it onto the bed.

- I hate you - you repeat, like a mantra, broken voice cascading with every thrust. - I hate you, I ha- 

Your head rolls backwards, when a particularly hard thrust nearly breaks you, but your husband is here to help, his hand grabbing the the roots of your hair, bringing your head down, so you can watch as he performs a magic trick of repeatedly disapearing into your body. 

You're not sure who's blood his hand slips on, but suddenly, you're fully on the floor, your body crushed by his. Nothing stops his wild movements, not the sloppiness of it all, not the hard wails he tears from your body. If anything, the more strain his body is under, the more ferocious he's being. Your hand shoots up, all five fingers digging into his throat, and you're rewarded with an angelic moan, which almost brings you to your finish line. Almost. 

His head leans down into the crook of your neck, where he whispers something in Harkonnen, a gurgle of rough sounds, interrupted by sinful moans. He sounds so beautiful, so conflicted, for a second you consider being gentle with him. Alas, you hate him still.  

Another realization dawns upon you, as your feet kick with force into your husbands backside, to force him deeper, to keep him inside. This is still a fight. You're still on the battlefield, still waving a red flag in front of a raging bull. So, with courage and grandiose, your muscles tense, and you roll your husband over. 

The change in position makes both of you gasp in unison, as you sink down onto him. For a second, everything stops. His lips are red and swollen, sweat and blood mix on his skin, flow down in pinkish stripes. And he watches you, as one would a holy painting of a foreign god. With reverence and utter lack of understanding. You're fully aware the look is mirrored on your face. 

Slowly at first, your hips begin to rock, up and down, in a steady rhythm, that forces a shuddering breath to leave Feyd Rautha's lips. You bend down, to catch it, and because of your greed, you catch his bottom lip as well. The bite you give him is anything but romantic, and his hips jump from the floor, hitting a spot within you, you didn't know existed. He swallows your moan along with his own blood, and his fingertips map the curve of your spine, as you straighten upon him.

Fingernails latch themselves into the skin of his chest, as you speed up, chasing your own release and no one else's. Moans spill from your lips, the concept of shame abandoning your mind completely. Then, compelled by something dark and twisted you drag claw marks down his torso. 

His body shudders, and his hips lift off the ground, fucking into you with reckless abandon. The hold he has on the flesh of your hips is bruising, to say the least, but you did enough damage to call it even. Enough, to make your body tremble and tense up, as climax creeps up on you steadily. 

Like a shark sniffing for blood, he senses the change in your being, and as you tumble over the edge, a silent scream tearing at your throat, he suddenly rises into a seating position. His arms encircle you fully, pressing your sweaty bodies impossibly close, as he too finds his own end. 

It takes him second, to tumble over, filling you to the brim with ink. His head buries itself into your shoulder, inhaling your scent through deep gasps, each eliciting a broken growl from his chest. 

Your bones are gone completely, body relaxing and falling breathless into your husband's arms. After a while of sitting in complete stillness, he moves first. Strong hands lift you up, off of him, and you whine at the emptiness. 

Then, as a last hurrah, he throws you onto the bed, where your recovering body sinks into the soft mattress. It's heavenly, the way you seem to float in nothingness, head swimming from exertion. For a moment you don't even register him climbing into the bed with you, drunk on the fading tension seeping from your every pore.

The lights are almost completely out, yet his skin shines against the black comforter. You wish to see if he's flushed, like he was at the engagement party. Leaning on one arm, his fingers trail around the small wound under your ribs. Dried blood flakes off of your skin, and you shudder again. 

- I - you start, voice completely broken - I've never known hate, until I met you. 

You're not sure why you've said it. Perhaps, in this moment of serenity, truth seems to float to the surface much more easily. Or perhaps you're possessed, or worse, gone completely insane. Eother way, your eyebrows furrow, and Feyd Rautha leans down to kiss your forehead, gently. 

- If this is how your hate looks like - he whispers into your hairline, teeth scraping lightly against it - I dread to imagine your love. 

You'll never find out, you think, but for some reason can't fully vocalize it. 

He says something else, after a while, but your mind is becoming as heavy as your body, and as the day descends upon you in a heap of exhaustion, you fall asleep.

And while your story has nothing but suffering in the future, while there's death and mourning, and years of violence written in the stars for you. Right now, on the Harkonnen ship sailing through space to Giedi Prime, you sleep in the arms of your husband. Whether this strange symbiotic relationship will last, no one can tell, but there is hope, and what else could you possibly need? 

#my writing #dune part 2 #dune x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune smut #what a journey my gosh #thank you once again for following the story love y'all

[mockerycrow]

hii! i love the way you describe the 141 so far, and i would love to see how you would write an konig, ghost, soap, price and alejandro reaction and headcanons with a s/o who has an accent?

i taught myself english from a young age so i never really had someone to practice with, so my accent is very strong (im from south america, which also helps lol) and i would like to see how the cod boys can react to this in your style <33

Reader With An Accent - MWII

GIF BY: @collinnmckinley - masterlist

A/N: thank you so much for your patience and thank you for liking my writing!! please let me know if i executed this right!! i am american and i don’t want to misrepresent. also this is lowkey coded for people w/ accents from non-english speaking countries, so sorry everyone who is from a english speaking country and has an accent oops — i also kinda took your “i taught myself english from a young age” for alejandro’s chunk. hope that’s ok!

König

König wouldn’t react to your accent very much, unless it’s a very thick accent because then he would have trouble understanding you.

If your accent is thick, he probably asks you repeat yourself a couple of times; English isn’t his first language either, so I can imagine maybe a couple of times you both sit there in silence with each other because neither of you guys can understand each other. He has a semi-thick accent, too.

Sometimes, he does understand you but he just wants to hear you continue to talk.

Maybe König and you practice English together, while teaching each other your native languages on accident. You guys didn’t mean to, but you end up trying to explain what a word is in your different languages and by the end of it, you begin to understand full sentences in german; the same for him with your language.

He considers this a bonding experience :)

Ghost

Like König, he probably wouldn’t react to your accent too much unless it was incredibly thick. Ghost has met all different types of people and his native language is English, so he has a better understanding of what you’re trying to say, but he pokes fun at you like he pokes fun at Soap.

On the topic of Soap, you two together is his worst nightmare.

“Speak English.” Is his favorite phrase when you are speaking English, but your accent is just overpowering literally everything.

You like to throw his words back into his face when he says some sort of British slang—you get a surprisingly loud chuckle out of him when you pick up some of his slang. He thinks it’s funny whenever anyone who isn’t British begins to talk like him.

If Ghost isn’t already fluent in your language, he pretty much becomes damn near fluent by the time you’ve known him for a good couple of months. He picks this stuff up easily.

Soap

Oh, this would be actual hell on Earth. Not for you two, but for the others.

Soap doesn’t comment on your accent initially, but you two begin to share a brain cell and a half (on accident) when Ghost’s eyes show visible frustration.

“He can barely understand me, the two of’us will be a real party trick!”

You and Soap gang up on everyone else if your accent is thick. He understands the frustration of people not understanding you.

Sometimes it takes Soap a moment to process what you’re saying, but he only asks you to repeat yourself a couple of times. (He has a good method of deciphering words, even if he cannot understand through an accent).

Soap likes to teach you his Scot phrases and you teach him your own in return.

Price

He gives you an eyebrow raise as a reaction, but that’s about it. Price has worked with so many people all over the world, he doesn’t really care to comment on your accent.

Price has gotten pretty good at understanding thick accents through the years, so he probably only asks you to slow your speaking when giving him a verbal report about something.

Price 100% is the type to accidentally pronounce something wrong but say it with full confidence and you always correct him, leaving him dumbfounded.

“My lips just don’t move that way, love.”

It’s likely he’s fluent in your language so he doesn’t mind if you talk to him in it; just give him a few seconds to translate in his head, okay?

Alejandro

If you meet outside of a total progressional setting, he probably has the most reaction to your accent out of anyone.

Alejandro’s language is a very big part of him so he assumes it’s the same for anyone else.

Alejandro doesn’t have an incredibly thick accent, but he knows people who do and he’s known them for years, so it’s easier for him to understand than a lot of other people.

If you taught yourself English and you end up pronouncing something wrong, Alejandro casually corrects you to help you out. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it either, he knows sometimes people get embarrassed from it. His first language isn’t English either, so he understands the struggle.

He DOES start laughing if you try to pronounce something that you so clearly cannot, even after being corrected.

#call of duty #cod #modern warfare ii #cod mw soap #call of duty mwii #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #john price #ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john price x reader #soap x reader #konig #könig #könig x reader #konig x reader #alejandro vargas x reader

[navybrat817]

I picture Bucky as a good dad. Like you're tired and he takes over without hesitation.

Oh, he's an amazing dad, nonnie. I agree he would take over immediately.

Sleepless Nights

Pairing: Woodworker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky offers to check on Jellybean so you can get some rest. Word Count: Over 1k Warnings: Fluff, insecurities, early parenthood, reflecting, nickname (daughter is called Jellybean, reader is called Jewel), feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes as a dad (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Sorry it isn't much, but here's a little something with our woodworker. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone​, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was already awake when he heard fussing in the next room, every cell in his body on alert at the sound. He was a light sleeper to begin with and always had an ear open, but having a baby in the house gave him all the more reason to pay attention to every noise around him. You began to sit up with half open eyes and a groan when the fussing turned to cries, your instincts likely calling to you through your exhaustion to soothe your baby. You were a wonderful mother through and through.

But you had only fallen asleep a few minutes ago after feeding and changing her and you needed as much rest as possible.

“No, no, no,” he whispered as he brushed his lips against your temple and helped you lay back down. “It’s my turn.”

“You sure?” You asked, trying to stifle a yawn. “I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure,” he assured you, giving you another kiss. “I offered, remember?”

It wasn’t easy for you to relinquish control or ask for help out of fear that you weren’t a good enough mom, but he was quick to squash that insecurity. He didn’t want you to feel any sort of guilt or shame over needing rest. You also didn’t have to go it alone since you had him by your side.

You were equal partners and parents.

“Thanks, Hunk,” you smiled tiredly.

He smiled back and tucked the blanket around you. “You don’t need to thank me for being a dad,” he teased before you closed your eyes. “Just get some rest for the both of us, Jewel.”

Once he was sure you wouldn’t try to get up, he went to check on your daughter. His daughter. One of the two lights of his life.

Living proof that his heart had room for two.

Carefully opening the nursery door, his heart almost stopped as the cries increased. The sound evoked many things within him, like the need to protect her and the worry that he wouldn’t be able to comfort her the way you could. Pushing his anxiety aside, he approached the crib with a soft smile when she whimpered and immediately reached in to pick her up. The vibranium arm cradled her lower half as he rested her against his chest.

The previous metal forced upon was meant to inflict pain, but the vibranium provided hope.

“Hey, Jellybean,” he whispered, brushing his nose against the top of her head and taking care not to scratch her skin with his beard as her whimpers stopped almost immediately. The sweet scent was so distinctly her, a biological perfume that he could pick up even if she was surrounded by other babies. “Can’t sleep, huh?”

Bucky had heard from others that babies had distinct cries, but he didn’t realize how true that was until he began to decipher Jellybean’s sounds. Since she couldn’t tell either of you with words what or how she was feeling, she did so with sounds and visual cues. There was no yawning, so she wasn’t sleepy, and no lip smacking, so he ruled out hunger. She didn’t squirm in his hold, so discomfort or a dirty diaper were out. Coupled with the fact that she grew quiet the second he picked her up told him all he needed to know.

His baby just wanted some attention.

“I’m sorry if you wanted Mama, but she needs her rest,” he whispered, taking a seat in the rocking chair he built. He covered you with a soft blanket next, a gift from Steve and Tippy. Ironically enough, you got them a similar blanket for their little Peanut. “So do you.”

He began to hum a lullaby as he glanced around the room. Jellybean’s laughter would fill it one day and provide another memory he’d make sure not to forget. Even in the dark, he could feel the care crafted within every inch of the space. Beams and walls helped make the house, but it was a home because of the love you poured into it.

It didn’t always feel real though.

Some days, he feared he’d open his eyes only to find himself back in the chair, shaking from the pain and electroshock. Or that he’d be back on ice, reaching out a hand for the two of you before he froze. He had to remind himself that the worst part of his life was over, that the nightmare was finished and you were his dream come true.

The person who helped him pick up the pieces of himself, one at a time.

“You know, I spent a long time believing that I wasn’t a good man. That I’d never be worthy of you or your mom. That I didn’t deserve this,” he told her, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs as he exhaled. “But I am a good man and I do deserve my family.”

And all he wanted was to be a good husband and father.

His daughter’s tiny hand moved to his chest and he had to blink back tears at the small source of comfort. She was vulnerable, inspiring, a precious gift, and a token of the love you had for him. Looking at her for the first time and seeing purity and wonder in her gaze was like rekindling his best sense of self.

He may not always be able to catch her when she falls, but he would pick her up, dust her off, and let her try again.

“Maybe I needed to hold you tonight as much as you needed to be held,” he smiled softly. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she sensed it. “You’ll hear my story one day. No matter what you think of me after I tell you, I’ll always be your father and protector,” he promised as she started to doze off, completely at ease in his arms. He shut his eyes and allowed himself to relax, too. “And I’ll always love you and your mom, Jellybean.”

And in the room next door, you gazed at the baby monitor with watery eyes. “We’ll always love you, too, Bucky.”

I'm so soft! Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #woodworker!bucky barnes x reader #hunk and jewel #into the woods au #bucky barnes #woodworker!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fic #dad!bucky barnes #dad!bucky #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #james bucky barnes

[azulashengrottospiano]

mer-shrimpy?

Genre/Tropes: No notable ones!!

Summary: The Prefect has an accident in alchemy (courtesy of Ace, Deuce, and Grim) and has turned into a merperson!! Floyd witnesses this and drags them to Octavinelle, where they hang out with the Octotrio until Crewel can reverse the spell.

Author's Comments: i love these absolutely menaces they're my favorite ever i want to hold their hands and hugs them (and give azul smooches.) this ends in kind of a choose your own adventure way?

~~~~~

A bright, multicolored puff of smoke erupted from the cauldron in front of you as Ace and Deuce argued, Grim scurrying around your ankles as he cackled. The noise stopped immediately after the smoke cleared, but you still couldn’t see much of anything. It was only when you realized that you couldn’t breathe very well that you started to panic, flopping around the floor.

Wait, flopping?

You looked down at your legs, only to see the bottom half of a shrimp of all things.

“Bad pups! Stay!” Crewel yelled, quickly approaching your tiny form on the ground, “Ramshackle Prefect, are you alright?”

“Shrimpy?” Floyd leered, peeking over Crewel’s shoulders, “What did you guys do to them, huh?”

Ace and Deuce stepped back a bit, intimidated by the sharp glare Floyd sent their way.

“The water breathing potion must have backfired. What did you add into your potion?” Crewel glared.

“Um…dunno.” Ace mumbled, “I’m sorry, Prefect. I didn’t mean to make you…tiny.”

You tried to voice that it was okay, that you weren’t dying, but nothing came out but sharp shrieking noises and ragged gasps.

“It’s hard to breathe-!” you gasped, choking on air.

“Ehh? It's hard to breathe? You need water or something?” Floyd hummed, his words sending Deuce running to the nearest large plastic container to fill it up for you.

You were more impressed that he’d deciphered what you’d said.

“You can understand me?” you choked out, the sound coming out garbled and raspy.

He tilted his head, kneeling down to you, “Of course I can, Little Shrimp! Did your brain get tiny too? You’re just speaking mer.”

You were about to speak again before Floyd lifted you into his arms, curling his arms around your body and holding you close. He nuzzled your forehead affectionately, his teeth scraping against the skin.

“Leech! Unhand the Prefect!” Crewel demanded, swooping in with the container of water Deuce filled, “This is why you all needed remedial lessons in the first place!”

“Aww, no fun. I wanna play with Shrimpy!” he pouted, turning away and using his upper body to hide you away.

“It’s okay, Floyd. I’ll play with you later.” you promised, “Just please let me breathe.”

“Fiiiine. I don’t want Jade and Azul yelling at me for not taking good care of you. Whatever.” he huffed, annoyed at the idea of letting you go.

He dropped you into the water unceremoniously, the small splash briefly disorienting you before you became used to the feeling of breathing water. It honestly felt like the bathtubs at home, with the container just barely fitting you. Your tail was bent at an odd angle in order for you to breathe properly, and Floyd looked annoyed at your mild discomfort. He brightened up a second later, eyes glinting with mischief.

“I know! Shrimpy, let’s go to my dorm! We have a lot of water, and you can swim all you’d like! Then we can play all we want!” he grinned, sharp teeth gleaming in the light.

“That may be the best idea given the situation.” Crewel agreed, turning his gaze to you, “What do you think?”

You nodded, heart jumping at the thought of a bigger pool. You could breathe and have leg room in the Octavinelle pools, though you’d need to learn how to use your new bottom. You couldn’t imagine how hard it had been to transition from a tail to legs for Floyd and Jade, and in Azul’s case, tentacles. You kept trying to move how you would with your legs, but it felt you only had one big leg and only moved one way. Crossing your arms over your chest, you blew annoyed bubbles in the water.

“Aww, Shrimpy’s so cute!” Floyd cooed, scooping up the container with ease, “Come on, we’re going on a trip! Just me and Shrimpyyy!”

You tried your best to hold onto the container as Floyd slung you around the hall, yelling cheerfully about how much fun he was going to have with you. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping you’d reach Octavinelle soon.

“Floyd, what are you doing?” someone questioned, the amused tone all too familiar.

“Jade!” he beamed, shoving the container of Jade in Jade’s face, “Look at our Shrimpy! Aren’t they cute?”

Our?!

“Indeed.” Jade chuckled, raising a brow as you floated aimlessly around the water, “I assume you were taking them to the pool in Octavinelle?”

“Where else? We need to keep our little Shrimpy close, don’t we?”

“That we do. I’ll walk with you.”

You wished you could chew them out about this stupid “our” business, but all that came out were more little shrieks and yelps. Floyd laughed, and that’s when you remembered that they could understand you.

“Poor thing. You sound so sad when you talk like that. I can barely understand you.” Jade sighed, acting all disappointed when you knew he was teasing.

“Mean!” you shrieked, and they both laughed.

Sinking back into the water, you blew annoyed bubbles until you found yourself in Octavinelle. The dorm was beautifully decorated, no doubt part of Azul’s influence. You furrowed your brow, looking from left to right. Where was Azul? It was after school, so there was only one other place he could be.

“Don’t fret, Little Pearl.” Jade hummed, staring down at you with half lidded eyes that scream trouble, “If you’re looking for Azul, he’s in his office. Of course, our priority lies with you as of now, but Floyd can retrieve him if you so wish.”

“Ehhh? Why me? I wanna play with Shrimpy.” he moped, holding the container of water closer to his chest.

“Oh, but Floyd, the Little Pearl doesn’t know how to use their tail. Wouldn’t it be more fun to play with them when they can run away? I will teach them the basics while you fetch Azul.” Jade hummed, attempting to placate his brother.

Floyd thought on it for a few seconds before brightening up, showing the container into Jade’s arms. With a loud promise of playing with you later, Floyd bolted towards the VIP Room.

Poor Azul.

“Well hello there.” Jade smiled down at you, his face distorted in the still sloshing water, “What do you say we get you in the pool, hm?”

You nodded, blowing more bubbles in the water. Jade chuckled politely, carrying you off into a hallway near the back of the dorm. You stood stationary inside the water as Jade hummed a tune, finally stopping in front of a door and pushing it open with his hip. The water sloshed over the side of the container, wetting his glove. Jade muttered a quiet apology and set the container down next to the wide expanse of clear water, his soaked gloved hand reaching into the water to pet your head.

“Do you mind if I lift you up? I hardly think dumping someone as delicate as you into a pool would be kind.” he hummed, pulling his gloves off one finger at a time, “I will also be shifting into my merform, so you won’t be lonely.”

You nodded, poking your head above the water. Jade’s bare hands were a sight you’d never seen before, and you were surprised at how soft they looked considering most of his free time was spent digging around in terrariums and even mountains. He noticed you staring, eyes crinkling in the corners as he chuckled. Without any warning, he swooped down gracefully, closing on you far too quickly for your liking. You jerked back, water sloshing over the sides of the container once again as Jade’s fangs glinted in the overhead lights.

“Don’t be shy, Little Pearl.” he cooed, dipping his bare hands into the water and scooping you up as though you were a plant ready to be repotted, “I won’t hurt you. I’ll treat you delicately, with all the care a little morsel like you deserves.”

Your eyes went wide at the morsel comment, but before you could see anything Jade had set you in the pool. Even though the water looked clear on the surface, there was a light fog settling within the water that made it hard to see much of anything. You jumped when you heard a splash a little ways away from you, but when you looked you couldn’t see anything. Fear coursed through your veins as you waited, unable to use your tail to swim towards where you hoped Jade had dove in with you. Gulping water through your gills, you tried to take deep breaths to calm down. They wouldn’t eat you, obviously. This was Jade. He just wanted to see you jump.

And jump you did, when a green blur gently tapped your tail from behind.

You jumped backward, whipping around to face none other than Jade. Crossing your arms, you glared at him as he chuckled, eyes narrowed.

“Apologies, Little Pearl. I wanted to see how you would react. It’s quite entertaining to see you out of your element.” he hummed, swishing his tail around as he darted in circles around you, “Now, do you think you’re ready to try swimming?”

“How do you guys work these things?!” you blurted, flopping in the pool like a fish on land, “It’s so hard to manage-”

“Don’t move it like you’d move your own two legs. Move like your legs have been merged into one.” Jade hummed, smirking at your struggle.

You jerked your tail as you managed to go forward, a small accomplishment in the grand scheme of things. Jade looked so proud though, and you tried not to let him feed your ego too much. He was probably laughing at you internally anyway.

“Good Little Pearl.” he hummed, swimming a bit further away, “Keep going. I’m certain you’ll be able to use that tail of yours efficiently in no time.”

With that praise, you tried even harder to swim towards him. It wasn’t as hard as it used to be now that you were thinking of your bottom as two legs merged together, and it occurred to you that merpeople had to pretend that their tail had been split in two. You wondered how they got used to feet, or even if they’d had a foot cramp before. Did merpeople have tail cramps?

You were too in your own head. As you snapped out of it, you realized that Jade had moved a bit farther, and had gone deeper into the pool. In the dimmer lighting at the bottom, you could swear his golden eye was glowing, beckoning you deeper into the pool like a siren. You almost didn’t go deeper.

Almost.

Curiosity killed the cat, as they said, and curiosity was about to kill you.

So you swam down, chasing after Jade as he darted between the various types of coral, their jagged forms rising from the sand like nature’s fortified towers. Octavinelle was truly a beautiful dorm.

With beautiful people, you thought as you watched Jade look back at you, his eyes gleaming. His expression was playful as he twirled in a circle, darting into some faded yellow coral. Without a second thought, you swam after his, elated that you were finally getting the hang of your tail.

“What are you doing here?!” a loud hissed reverberated in the water, and Jade immediately darted in front of you like a guard dog.

A familiar face poked out from the coral, his blue gray eyes narrowed with annoyance.

“Azul?” you gasped, eyes widening at the surprise, “I thought you were back in your VIP Room?”

“Wh- Angelfish? Why are you a…?” Azul trailed off, head tilting to the side as he examined you, “...Nevermind that. You need to get out. Out! Leave!”

“Azul, it’s okay.” Jade spoke, his voice calm and collected.

He still hadn’t moved away from you though.

“Azul, is everything okay?” you asked, keeping your distance.

The last thing you wanted to do was annoy him.

“Angelfish, please leave. You shouldn’t see me like this.” he sighed, shaking his head as he shrank back into the coral, “It’s not a pretty sight, I assure you. Now, if you will-”

“There’s no part of you that I wouldn’t find nice.” you said, voice so stern it surprised you, “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to show me, but I promise I won’t judge you for anything. I’m literally a shrimp right now.”

You flicked your tail in his direction for emphasis, and Jade snorted. He seemed to have drifted off the side since you two figured out it was Azul and not some other random student.

“Aaaaazul!” Floyd called, darting out of nowhere into the coral Azul was hiding in, “Come play with us!”

“Floyd, no-!” Azul yelped as he was slammed out of his hidey hole, a writhing mass of black following his front as Floyd cackled. Your eyes widened at the appendages as he struggled to hide them, trying to make himself seem as small as possible. He kept shooting you panicked glances, his chest rising and falling rapidly as Floyd swam circles around him.

“Azul? Why are you on edge? Is it because Little Shrimpy’s here?” Floyd teased.

“Azul, I highly doubt Little Pearl cares about such trivial things.” Jade hummed, pressing a hand against your lower back and pushing you the slightest bit forward.

Azul froze on the spot, finally taking the time to look at your expression. There was no disgust, no amusement, no fear. There was just awe and curiosity. He swallowed thickly, feeling like a specimen on an examination table. You slowly swam forward, reaching out slowly, giving him time to pull away. He slammed his eyes shut but didn’t move, feeling your hand slide down one of his tentacles. You hummed as your other hand cupped one of them, flipping it upwards to reveal the suction cups. Azul cracked his eyes open just a bit to see you staring down at his chubby hideous revolting body with such much adoration that it made his heart jump into his throat. He couldn’t breathe.

“You’re really pretty, Azul.” you murmured, pulling the tentacle closer and letting it wrap around your hand, its actions shaky and slow, “You’re gorgeous like this.”

“See? What did I tell ya? Little Shrimpy doesn’t care.” Floyd laughed, poking Azul at the base of his tentacles.

“I’m not so sure about that, Floyd. They seem to care quite a bit.” Jade chuckled.

Another black tentacle wrapped itself around your waist as his purple tinted skin turned pink. He refused to meet your gaze as you accepted his touch without a bit of repulsion, your eyes affectionate and happy as if asking him to keep going. He yanked himself away before he could pull you into his chest and hug you for hours.

“Come swim with us, Azul!” Floyd called, snapping at him with his teeth as he giggled, “You can’t hog Shrimpy all day! That’s not faaair!”

“Floyd is right, you know. You should thank him for going to get you in the first place. That was very generous of him.” Jade hummed.

“I was here the whole time.” Azul mumbled, and you shook your head at their antics.

“I’d like to make the most of this form while I’m still in it. It’s been fun so far!” you bounced a bit in the water, curling your tail in and out.

“Aww, Shrimpy’s so cute!” Floyd giggled, his expression immediately shifting to annoyance when he processed what you meant, “Ehh? What do ya mean? We’re going to have you over like this again, Shrimpy. You’re not getting away that easily.”

“Indeed.” Jade began circling you, a sinister look on his face, “You’re such a small little morsel, it would be the same if we didn’t have a chance to catch you.”

A shiver shot down your spine as Floyd followed his twin’s example, the both of them circling you menacingly as Azul stared disappointingly at them.

“If you two keep freaking them out, they’ll never come back again.” he pointed out, tugging you closer by the tail, “Don’t scare the poor angelfish. ”

“It’s just a little fuuun.” Floyd giggled, brightening up at the thought of forcing you over again, “Come on Shrimpy, wouldn’t you like that?”

“Sketchy undertones aside, I agree. I think it’d be nice to try this out again, even just swimming in my human form. It’s like stress relief.” you mused.

“Professor Crewel should be working on a cure already. We best make haste if we’re to enjoy you to the fullest.” Jade smiled his close-eyed smile, “Little Pearl, if you will.”

He gestured to the coral around you as Floyd’s yellow eye gleamed mischievous. When Jade opened his eyes, you noticed his yellow eye was glowing too.

“You may hide, and we will seek you out.” he chuckled, tilting his head slightly, “Wouldn’t you enjoy that?”

“Oh yes, Shrimpy! It’ll be so fun. We’ll try to take a bite out of you.” Floyd laughed.

 Azul shook his head exasperatedly, holding out a hand to you.

“If you do not wish to join their game of cat and mouse, I can show you around the deeper ends of the pool.” he murmured, “I’m sure you would enjoy the secret’s I’ve stashed away.”

You looked between the three, contemplating which to try first. Well, what’ll it be, dear Prefect?

#auburn's fics <3 #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #disney twst x reader #twst x reader #octavinelle my beloveds #octavinelle x reader #jade leech fluff #jade x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd fluff #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech fluff #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto fluff #man i love jade leech #azul heart eyes <3 #floyd leech is a silly guy

[sapphire-writes]

Chapter 2: Curiosity Killed The Cat

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

summary ~ You begin to adapt to the unusual events of Harrenhal and your mysterious host. An unexpected guest arrives.

warnings below the cut for your convenience

warnings ~ spooky ghostly stuff, spiders

note: and so begins our spooky adventure! I hope you enjoy it!

banner made by the fantastic @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!

You lay in bed, tossing and turning for several hours waiting for another scream to inevitably pierce through the now silent halls of Harrenhal house. 

Your eyes are too heavy, and you drift into a dreamless sleep. The belly full of tea must have helped soothe your nerves. Or perhaps it was more your time spent with the stoic head of the house. 

It is Maelor’s cry that wakes you the following morning, rather than his mother’s, through the baby monitor on your nightstand. You hear his small gurgles as he wakes, hungry for his morning bottle. Grabbing the monitor, you jump out of bed to head toward the nursery. 

As you walk down the hallway, the door opens and Jaehaera stands dressed in a pink dress, her hair done in two braids down the side of her head. 

“Beat you!” she says, grinning like the Cheshire cat. 

“How’d you get ready so quickly?” you comment, smile slightly faltering, “And how did you do your h--”

“Come on Miss Gevie, breakfast is my favorite meal of the day!” she sings, brushing past you and towards the hallway.

“Jaeha--- um--- I have to get Maelor!” you call, as she disappears around the corner her braids swinging behind her, “Okay….you head down!”

The day starts with a simple breakfast of oatmeal and eggs--Jaehaera is first to inform you that the only way to eat eggs is sunny side up. Aemond joins you but only for a cup of coffee. You notice he prefers it black. He doesn’t speak to you, listening intently to Jaehaera as she chatters away. Then Jaehaera begins her morning lessons when her tutor arrives promptly at nine. A kind older woman who awards you a tight smile when she introduces herself.

You hold Maelor against your hip as he babbles, walking through the main foyer and toward the library. Several workers have arrived, and you’ve seen Aemond directing them to different areas of the house throughout the morning. He’s present in the library, sitting at the oak desk when you enter.  

“Sleep well?” he asks, as he notices you enter the library. His eye flickers to Maelor in your arms. 

Rising from his seat, he closes a folder of papers before rounding the side of the desk. He walks closer to you, lifting his hand toward Maelor. The baby grabs Aemond’s forefinger with his pudgy fist.

“As well as I could. I was nervous during the night,” you admit, cheeks warming, “Just in case anything happened again.”

Aemond hums, still watching Maelor who holds his finger hostage. The baby brings it to his mouth, gnawing on it with his gums. 

“He’s teething,” Aemond comments, “Hopefully that won’t cause more late-night disturbances.”

“It’s alright. I know what I signed up for,” you assure him, as he pulls his hand away from Maelor, patting the baby on the head. 

“I’m afraid you’ll get more than you bargained for,” he says, eyes meeting yours, “This is…a lot.”

Your eyes search his face, trying to decipher the emotions he hides. Trying to find some cracks in the armor he wears during the day. You saw some last night, in the kitchen. The walls came down, if only for a moment.

“You need help,” you tell him, “You can’t manage this all on your own. The kids, Helaena, the house…I’m here to help.”

“The children,” he clarifies, “You’re here to help the children.”

“And you,” you offer, “I mean…if I can be of help with anything I’m happy to do so.”

Let me help you, you silently beg. Someone has to.

Aemond hums once more, “You’re very kind, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Just doing my job,” you assure him, but your face continues to warm at his compliment. 

You hold each other’s gaze for several moments before Aemond finally looks away. 

“I have some work to do,” he tells you, and you take it as a sign to leave him be. 

“Maelor is about ready for a nap,” you tell him, turning on your heel to go.

You shut the door behind you, neither speaking again.

“I’ll be gone for a few days,” Aemond tells you later in the week during one of your late-night chats. 

A cup of tea at midnight has become somewhat of a tradition for both of you. Helaena wakes nearly every night. It's always the same. Screaming for the son she lost. The green and purple cups are always waiting for you in the cabinet by the stove for your inevitable journey into the kitchen. 

“Just tying up some loose ends in King’s Landing,” he assures you, “Helaena should be alright. I’ve spoken with her doctor about increasing her nighttime medication.”

“And if she isn’t?” you ask, unable to hide your nervousness at the thought of him leaving.

Aemond watches you for a moment, humming softly to himself. It does little to soothe your nerves.

Things go smoother than expected while Aemond is away. You fall into a gentle routine with Jaehaera and Maelor. 

While Jaehaera is in her lessons you bring Maelor to Helaena. As Aemond had prepared you, Helaena refuses to hold him. She barely even looks at him. Her eyes instead are trained on your face, reading your microexpressions like the pages of a book. You and Helaena don’t talk much during these visits, though you attempt to engage her in conversation.

She always joins you for lunch, after you put Maelor down for his afternoon nap. Jaehaera comes fresh from High Valyrian and chats with her mother in their native tongue. 

Then it’s time for Jaehaera’s afternoon lessons and you get some time for yourself as Helaena returns to her room like a bird returning to its cage. 

Usually, you journey to the library, browsing through the collection of novels and trying not to snoop. Though you must admit, in an old house like this it's hard not to. 

Curiosity killed the cat.

Advice you should probably heed. You glance at a desk in the library strewn with papers. Aemond has a private office, he’d told you as much when you arrived. Still, your fingers skim the papers, and you pick up a manila folder examining its contents. 

Old documents, withered and yellowed nearly disintegrating from age. You can barely read the cursive ledger on the page. Squinting, you are able to make out the word Strong.

Satisfaction brought it back.

A loud thump causes you to drop the folder in surprise, sending pages scattering to the floor. 

“Shit,” you curse to yourself, dropping to your knees and picking up the pages, putting them back where they belong. 

You hurry over to the window, looking outside. A red Corvette is parked, its driver missing. The noise must have been the car door slamming shut. Dusting off your knees you hurry out of the library closing the door behind you. You quicken your pace down the hall and front steps as voices echo from the kitchen.

A man stands in front of the sink clad in a three-piece suit, holding his cell phone to his ear.

“Tell Corlys…dammit, I can’t hear you,” he snaps, holding his phone in front of him, “Hello?”

The call clearly drops and he sighs, “Bloody service.”

You clear your throat, alerting him of your presence. He turns slowly, still looking at his phone as though he couldn’t be bothered with you being there at all. A lock of silver hair falls into his eyes as he leans against the counter. A ring on his hand catches the light. Like you’d need to see the Targaryen sigil stamped on the back. You knew he was a relative the moment you saw him.

Targaryens don’t camouflage well. 

“Just a moment,” he comments, glancing up at you from his phone. He does a double-take, straightening up and slipping his phone into his back pocket, “Hello.”

“Sorry…I wasn’t expecting anyone,” you tell him, watching the corner of his mouth tick upwards in a smirk. 

Aemond does that too.

“And I wasn’t expecting a beautiful woman to greet me,” the stranger says, “So I suppose we’re both surprised.”

Warmth floods through you at his flirtatious tone. He’s older--much older-- and an air of confidence encircles him like a veil of smoke.

“Daemon,” he introduces, extending his hand for you to shake, “And you must be the au pair.” 

You place your hand in his, and he grasps it firmly. His palm is rough and warm; much larger than your own. Your lips part, you’re sure you haven’t taken a breath since he’s looked at you.

“Mhmm,” you answer, telling him your name.

Daemon releases your hand, shaking his head slightly as he chuckles to himself. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

“Something funny?” you ask, trying to keep the annoyance from your tone.

“No, nothing. I’ve found au pairs to be particularly helpful,” he comments, laughing under his breath as though he’d told a joke, “It just surprises me, is all.”

“Why is it surprising?”

“Aemond’s not usually the sort,” Daemon says, not clarifying any further. 

You understand what he is implying, your cheeks growing hotter.

“Aemond and I have a strictly professional relationship,” you tell him, causing him to chuckle more.

“I’m sure you do. Aemond does value his professional relationships, doesn’t he?” Daemon says with his smirk growing, “All this talk of my nephew and I’ve yet to see the man. Where is he?”

“He’s not here.”

Daemon’s eyebrows lift toward his hairline.

“Not here?”

“He’s away on business. Won’t be back for a few days.”

“And he left you, all alone?” Daemon asks, taking a step closer to you. He reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You can’t suppress the shiver that rolls through you. 

“I can take care of myself,” you insist. Daemon’s scent floods your senses; teakwood, smoke, cinnamon. Intoxicating; it makes your head spin. 

“I’m sure you can. My nephew wouldn’t have hired you if he had any doubts,” Daemon murmurs, dropping his hand, “It’s not the harmless nanny he needs to worry about.”

“What do you mean?”

Daemon watches you like a cat toying with a mouse. His lip curls slightly, enjoying your discomfort. 

“Are you aware of the history of this house?” Daemon asks.

“Yes,” you tell him.

“Well, there you have it,” Daemon says, walking by you, “Have Aemond call me when he’s returned.”

You can hear his steps echoing down the hall, followed by the slamming of a car door. You stand in the kitchen for several moments, trying to catch your bearings when Jaehaera runs in.

“Who was that?” she asks, throwing her arms around your waist. 

“Just…nothing,” you assure her, stroking her hair, “How were your lessons?”

As Jaehaera tells you about her day, you focus on calming your racing heartbeat. You can’t help but linger on what Daemon had said.

What exactly was he worried about?

Helaena Targaryen loves arachnids. 

This becomes apparent when a spider scurries across the floral picnic blanket you’d laid out for Jaehaera. 

Maelor sits with his thumb in his mouth rocking back and forth as though a gentle breeze may knock him onto his back. Sitting up is quite new to him. The afternoon had been going quite well before the eight-legged monster descended on the tea party.  

“Miss Gevie! Miss Gevie!” Jaehaera screeches, launching herself off of the blanket and into your arms. Her girlish scream echoes through the backyard and she trembles against you. 

The arachnid freezes at her movements, eight legs tensed and ready. Maelor stares at his sister, violet eyes wide before they drop to the blanket. Helaena is seated in a chair a few feet away, the large sun hat she wears partially obscuring her face. 

“The fresh air does her good,” Aemond had told you before he left.

Helaena dives off of her chair, knees crashing into the grass beside the picnic blanket. You comfort Jaehaera as Helaena dips her torso lower against the blanket letting her hand dance above the spider. She presses her cheek into the blanket as the spider curiously lifts two legs up toward her dancing fingers. 

“Don’t be afraid,” she murmurs, touching the tips of her fingers to the spider's outstretched legs. She stays like that for a moment, a small smile appearing on her face. 

Maelor watches his mother, his thumb falling from his mouth. 

“Kill it!” Jaehaera demands as her mother scoops the creature into her hand. 

Helaena rolls onto her back, the rim of her hat getting crushed beneath her. Her knees are stained green. Maelor claps his pudgy hands together letting out a gleeful squawk. 

“Why?” Helaena asked, looking at the creature in her palm with the fondness she no longer gives her children, “For simply being here?”

“He’s ugly and I hate him,” Jaehaera insists, “Make her kill it, please.”

Helaena only hums, letting the spider climb down her arm. She sounds like Aemond when she does that. Warmth bleeds down your cheeks and onto your neck. You’d been missing him. The nights have been rather empty without your late-night chats.

Helaena turns on her side, ignoring her daughter’s pleas and releasing the spider into the grass. Once free, it takes off lost from sight almost instantly. 

“There,” Helaena says happily, “No need for violence, byka jorrāelagon.”

“Kepus would’ve killed it,” Jaehaera says, with her lower lip jutted outwards in a pout. 

There is a shift in the energy between mother and daughter.

“Why don’t you ask him then?” Helaena says, rolling onto her back once more and closing her eyes. 

“Kepus!” Jaehaera says, pushing away from your arms and running toward the house. You watch her run, following her gaze up the stone steps until you meet Aemond’s eyes. 

He’s back.

She throws herself into Aemond’s arms much like she did your own, and he reaches down, scooping her up in his arms and holding her against his waist. There’s a swooping feeling in your stomach as he approaches, the heat returning to your cheeks. 

“How are my girls?” Aemond asks as he moves closer. 

You move to the other side of the blanket, scooping Maelor in your arms as he begins to bang his fists on Helaena’s hat.

“We’re having a tea party,” Jaehara tells him, “Muña saved a spider. I said she should kill it.” 

Aemond chuckles softly at her pointed tone. 

“Your mother would never,” he says, setting her down on the blanket, “And you?”

You glance up at him, surprised he addressed you, “Me?”

Aemond nods, holding your gaze, “How are you?”

You can hear the blood rushing in your ears as he continues to stare, piercing gaze never leaving your face. 

My girls.

“I’m well,” you answer.

Aemond joins you as you sit back on the blanket, the spider no longer disturbing your peace. Jaehaera dotes on him, she loves her uncle dearly you can tell. You return Maelor to the bassinet as his eyelids begin to droop, rocking it side to side with your hand as he begins to drift off to sleep. 

Jaehaera places a saucer on Helaena’s stomach before balancing a teacup on top of it. Helaena barely raises a brow as Jaehaera wedges a lemon cake onto the plate as well. Though she doesn’t thank her daughter, she brings a hand to the corner of the cake, tearing off a piece and placing it in her mouth.

Aemond sits straight up, balancing a teacup on his knee as Jaehaera stands behind him, combing her fingers through his long, platinum hair and twisting small braids throughout. You hadn’t realized how long he kept it, it’s usually in a bun when you see him, but now silver waves cascade down his shoulders to the middle of his back.

“We should head inside,” Aemond mutters, “The clouds are gathering.”

“A storm is coming tomorrow,” Helaena murmurs.

“How’d you know?” you ask and Helaena’s mouth ticks upwards. All Targaryens seem to have the same smirk.

“She always knows,” Aemond says, smiling softly as his elder sister.

In sleep, someone speaks to you. Whispers in your ear, breath hot like flames licking against your flesh words you do not understand. 

A scream pierces through the night and you awake with a start. An ache begins behind your eyes and you press the heel of your palm against your forehead. You catch your bearing, sitting up and blinking as your eyes adjust to the darkness. Realization washes over you.

Helaena.

She’d been taking a second dose of her sleeping medication ever since Aemond spoke with her psychiatrist. Had she missed a dose this evening? You quickly rise from your bed, not bothering to grab your robe and flinging open your door. 

The hallway is dark, and no moonlight spilling through the windows tonight. You reach out, holding onto the wall as a guide as you move further down the hallway. 

A shuffling noise behind you makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your breath hitches and you turn around, staring into the dark behind you. You can’t see anything, just pitch black. You should’ve left a light on in your room, something to anchor you. Your hands begin to tingle as adrenaline speeds the beating of your heart. 

There’s nothing but darkness, you assure yourself, the dark can’t hurt you.

But you can’t shake the feeling that as you look down the hallway, someone….or something…is looking back.

You release a shaky breath, turning back around. Something moves toward you, this time you’re certain. And suddenly a hand covers your mouth blocking the scream that rises in your throat and slamming you into the wall. It's not too hard, just enough for your shoulder blades to make a solid thump against the wood. 

Aemond catches your fist in his opposite hand as you attempt to strike him, pushing your wrist back against the wall above your head. Your eyes widen when you realize it's him, cheeks blazing with rage and embarrassment, your body sagging with relief. 

His hand remains on your mouth, though for a moment you’re sure it’s your scream tearing through the halls. Your stomach drops at the agonized wail and you squeeze your eyes shut. Aemond’s hand slides down until your chin rests in the space between his thumb and forefinger. His fingers are pressed so tightly against your throat you’re sure he must be able to feel your fluttering pulse. 

“Hela--,” you begin to speak but are cut off by the return of his hand over your mouth. 

“Shhh,” Aemond insists, as your eyebrows crease with confusion.

You mumble incoherently against his palm, lips pressing against the calloused flesh. Aemond presses closer, his tall slender frame towering over you. You cease trying to talk, your thoughts muddled as the warmth of his body presses against you. Aemond dips his head so his lips rest against the shell of your ear. 

“That’s not Helaena.”

It would be intimate, sensual even, if it weren’t for the words he spoke in that low whisper. A feeling of dread washes over you like a bucket of ice water. 

“Shh,” he says once more, his lips grazing your ear, “Close your eyes. Stay very, very still.”

You don’t dare move, you don’t dare speak; you simply do as you’re told, squeezing your eyes shut. Trembling against him your fingers dig into his arm while the other remains trapped in his grasp over your head. Fear burns in your belly, so hot it's as though someone is stoking a fire right in front of you.

Aemond presses closer, your breasts press against the hard planes of his chest, nipples hardening at the stimulation through the thin material of your tank top. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so frightened. Your heart is beating like a rabbit’s foot, and you try to listen to the sound of Aemond’s breathing in your ear as some way of grounding yourself. 

A groan echoes from down the hall. 

Your grip on him tightens.

“It’s alright,” Aemond murmurs, his voice barely audible, “We’ll just let them pass.”

Your breathing stops.

Let them? Let what? Let who?

The heat intensifies around you, colors bursting behind your eyelids as though someone is shining a light on the pair of you, though you don’t dare open your eyes. You cling to Aemond’s command like a life raft despite your morbid curiosity. 

You don’t know how long you stay like that before the light begins to fade, the warmth leached from your skin as whatever passed you moved on. The hall is silent, your ears are ringing and all you can hear is each shaky inhalation of your breath. It’s not enough. It feels like all the air has been sucked from the hall like you’ll never breathe again.

“Y/N.”

What was that?

“Open your eyes.”

His voice. Aemond’s voice. The only thing that makes sense.

You open your eyes.

The hall is dark and you blink, adjusting. Aemond releases your hand and your arm falls, slightly sore and tingling with pins and needles from being held above your head for so long. He uncovers your mouth as well, taking a step back.

“Are you alright?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice. 

You don’t answer, frozen. Aemond cups both of your cheeks in his hands, thumbs smoothing away tears that fall. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying. Aemond’s brows knit together and you bring your hands to his wrists. 

“What was that?” you whisper, voice hoarse.

Aemond’s expression is pained. 

“There are things I haven’t told you about Harrenhal,” he says softly, releasing your face.

“What kind of things?”

“Unpleasant ones,” he continues.

You hold his gaze. If there was ever a chance to run from the manor screaming, this was it. Aemond watches you as though he expects you to run, his hands clenched into fists at his side. You know him already, know that if you chose to leave he wouldn’t follow you. He’s used to doing things on his own. It’s all he’s ever known.

It’s your choice.

Aemond lifts his eyes to meet yours as you reach for his hand. His fingers release automatically at your touch and you weave them through your own, holding tightly, anchoring yourself to him.

“Let’s get some tea then,” you tell him, “I want to know everything.”

note: hope you enjoyed this chapter! as always, comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected (though you will receive a forehead kiss from me if you do any of them).

if you would like to be tagged in this series, please let me know!

ACP taglist: @aebi12 | @lokiofasgard12 | @darkenchantress | @echos-muses | @kaelatargaryen | @zenka69 | @heavenly1927 | @boofy1998 | @snh96 | @zillahvathek | @minttea07

bold means I could not tag!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 🖤

#aemond x reader #modern!aemond #modern!aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fic #halloween fic #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #modern au #halloween au #aemond targaryen #aemond series #hotd series #fanfic series #halloween fanfic #aemond fanfiction

[mingtinysworld]

Don’t Hurt Me

Pairing: kang yeosang x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 2k

Summary: The presence of a killer is made known on the news. Little did you know, you would have your own encounter with the man, experiencing a night you won’t forget.

Warnings: MDNI, mute yeosang, “psychopath killer” yeosang, mention of a knife, clothed grinding, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), handjob, couple clit slaps

NOTE: the sign language is the italics in terms of conversation

A/n: lowkey this idea was much better written in my head💀 but I hope you like it! I tried to challenge myself with a new concept, and honestly imagining yeosang in this role got me hot and bothered so yeah. Please like, comment and reblog!! - J

It was a late Friday night and you finally got off of work, completely ready for the weekend. To celebrate, you found yourself drinking at the local pub, which is conveniently not frequented by others often. You lazily stir your drink as you lean your face in your hand, watching the tv with an detached frown.

There’s no one around at this late hour. Only the barman and you occupy the space, giving you the option of sitting wherever you’d like. The sports channel gets switched off all of a sudden, turning to the news. You lift an eyebrow in slight interest, trying to see if there’s anything worth paying attention to.

“We present tonight’s news with great urgency. There’s been a dangerous man spotted around town. His face hasn’t been revealed, but he is going around killing individuals. Stay diligent, and if you see anything suspicious, call 911 immediately.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. This little town has stayed relatively peaceful for the 7 years you’ve been living there, so imagining a killer going around shocks you. You know you should head home, but the warmth is pulling you down further in your seat.

Suddenly you can feel a cold breeze brush past your shoulder and you shiver involuntarily. You lift your head up from the counter and almost fall backwards from the shock. There’s a newcomer sitting next to you, very closely.

He has long, silky, sandy blonde hair. His nose is sharp and jaw so sculpted he looks almost statue like. His eyes are looking deeply into yours and you could spend at least an hour trying to decipher all the emotions residing in them. He’s got deep, dark eyes, that are nothing short of being sinful. It’s as if he’s silently beckoning you to fall headfirst into his gaze.

After a few moments of astonished staring at the stranger, you compose yourself and attempt to sit up as straight as possible. You straighten up your spine and make direct eye contact.

“Hey, how are you?” You ask, trying to not sound overly inquisitive. You feel alarmed for a split second when you see him lift up his hands from his lap. You involuntarily lean back, trying to put distance between you.

“Do you know sign language? I’m mute, but I can talk through writing as well.”

Your heart rate immediately goes down. The poor guy was just trying to communicate. Coincidentally enough, you actually do know sign language. Turns out the four years of ASL classes in high school paid off after all, and you feel grateful to your teachers. You instantly sign back to him.

“I do know sign language actually. What brings you here today?”

He gives you a cute, crooked smile and leans in a tiny inch closer.

“I saw a pretty girl sitting here, thought I’d keep her company.” He finishes off with a smirk.

You can’t help your surprise at his blatant flirting, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. Trying to match the vibe, you flirt right back.

“Wow, I’d love the company of a very handsome man actually. Thank you.” You send a wink and immediately cringe at yourself. What is wrong with you?

He opens his mouth in a silent laugh and you can’t help but admire his perfect teeth. He really is a beautiful man, the type to catch the attention of anyone and everyone around him. You can bet that even your most straight friends would want to get in his pants, no questions asked. He notices your distracted state and waves a hand across your face.

“What are you thinking about pretty girl?” He asks.

You flush from being caught staring at him. You’re thankful that he can’t read your mind, but from the confident tilt of his head it looks like he can tell anyways. You think of an excuse but choose to tell the truth.

“I just think that you’re very pretty.” You say honestly.

His face brightens at your admission, and he scoots a little closer. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you feel desire bubbling deep within. You can feel the soft puff of air from him against your own mouth and you dart your eyes between his eyes and lips. You close the distance between your bodies and slot your lips against his.

He moves along with you, breaths synchronizing. He slides an arm behind you, holding onto your waist with a gentle tug. His body warms you up and you melt into his touch, making you completely disregard the fact that this man is still a stranger. You cling to the edge of his shirt tighter when you feel a sharp, thin object against your ribs.

You pull back with a start and find that you’re held still by his strength. As you look into his eyes, you note with slight panic that his eyes have changed dramatically. He’s looking down at you with an excited malice, as if he’s looking forward to destroying you. You shrink down with dread, realizing that you’re utterly fucked.

You take a subtle glance at the tv which is showing the news still, and he catches the look, shooting you a toothy smile.

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m the ‘psychopath.’” He admits somewhat proudly. “I won’t hurt you though sweet thing. Not unless you want me to.” He drags a cold finger down your jaw, lightly holding you in place.

He removes the knife away from you, gazing at it fondly. “This little friend of mine has been with me through some things. Isn’t she beautiful?” A shudder goes through your body as you look at the sinister shine of the blade. He’s looking at you expectantly, wanting to hear an answer. You don’t bother using sign language anymore as he can hear perfectly fine. You only used it out of consideration, but there’s no more consideration left for him.

“I couldn’t care less about your stupid knife.” You spit with venom. You want him to be offended, to burst out in anger, but he only gives you the most irritating grin. It’s as if nothing can phase him.

“You’re so cute,” he shakes his head in what appears to be endearment. “I can’t wait to be buried in you.” Your eyes widen at that and you feel an involuntary fluttering in your core. You can’t believe that you’re getting turned on right now. The situation is absolutely absurd, a killer is sitting in front of you, and you’re getting your panties wet.

His eyes follow the movement of your thighs, trying to gain friction against each other. He splays out a hand against one thigh, keeping you still. You look at him with both shame and lust in your eyes, and he mirrors the latter. With a glance to the bartender, who appears to be heavily involved with his phone, he grabs your hand and drags you out of the bar.

You pull back slightly, making him stop in his tracks. “Wait, I want to know what your name is.” You ask him.

He looks intently into your eyes and answers. “My name’s Yeosang.”

Before you can say anything he drags you forward again. You walk for a few minutes until you reach a very shiny looking car. At a closer glance it appears to be a Ferrari. You look at Yeosang with a surprised look and his shoulders shake with a silent laugh.

“What, Princess? Were you expecting a trashy car from me?”

“I guess??” You say uncertainly with a shrug. He shakes his head again and opens the door for you. You get in and he closes the door after him. You sit there awkwardly for a second, not sure if you should do anything. Yeosang breaks you out of your thought however when he attacks your lips.

His lips are on yours in a flash, and you’re fighting with tongues. He squeezes your hip and slides his knee in between your legs, subtly rubbing against your now very wet panties. You should feel mortified, but all you feel is desire.

You grind against his clothed knee, and your clit catches it at an angle that makes you moan into his mouth. He grabs hold of your ass and moves you against him harder, eliciting pathetic mewls from you. You shockingly feel your climax approaching very quickly, and so could Yeosang apparently, and he immediately stops his movements. You whine in complaint but he shushes you with another intense kiss.

He quickly rids of his pants and your panties and pumps his cock a few times. You eye his length and your mouth salivates an embarrassing amount. You choose to give in to your temptations. You spit on your hand and slide it up and down Yeosang’s cock. He jolts in surprise but lets out a pleased hum, covering your hand in his, following the up and down motion.

If he wasn’t addicted to you already, he definitely is now. Seeing your tiny hand jerking him off sets off fireworks in his brain and he feels short of breath. He feels about ready to burst so he gently takes your hand away and has you lie down. He hovers above you and you can’t help but vibrate with anticipation.

He slides in slowly, filling every inch of space inside you. You arch your back in pleasure and throw your head back. Yeosang watches your reaction with eager eyes, needing you to feel like a goddess. He then watches your cunt sucking him in hungrily and loses all composure.

He pulls out until the tip is left, and slams back in with so much force your back bounces on the seats. He hits your sweet spot with every thrust, making you see stars, and you babbling incoherently by this point. You grab onto whatever you can find, his shirt being one of the items.

He slaps your clit harshly and you cry out at the sting. He slaps it two more times, leaving you a sobbing writhing mess. A knot tightens in your stomach and Yeosang can feel you clenching around him. He grits his teeth tightly and somehow thrusts even harder.

A few more sloppy thrusts later you’re coming undone around him. Your stomach convulses and your legs can’t seem to stop shaking. He pulls out and comes all over your stomach, ropes of cum coating your soft skin. He hangs his head and lets out a few deep breaths.

You close your eyes and bask in the afterglow. Quite literally, because the light of the lamppost is hitting your stomach and illuminating his cum brightly.

He looks around for something to clean you up with and finds one of his spare shirts. He cleans you the best he can and caresses your flushed cheek. You flutter your eyes open and find him looking at you with adoration, corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

He signs “thank you” and you let out a chuckle. “I should be the one thanking you, Yeosang.” He smiles softly and proceeds to put your clothes back on. As soon as the band of your skirt is snapped back onto you, you hear the sirens.

Yeosang stiffens in place, and looks at you with a distressed tilt of his eyebrows. He looks about ready to flee, but he hesitates. He looks around for something and you look on curiously. He finds a pen and paper and writes down some digits. He hands it to you and you see that it’s a phone number, along with an address.

“Come find me soon.”

With a mischievous wink he leaves the car and disappears into the night with the sirens fading away. You stay there for a bit, completely stunned with the turn of events. You can’t believe he just left you and the car like this, but you also can’t get over the intense passion you two shared. Slowly you get out of the car and head to your apartment where you should’ve been all along.

You do your regular nightly routine, get into pajamas and set your alarm.

You’ve got an important trip tomorrow.

#ateez #mingtinysworld #ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #atz yeosang #kang yeosang smut #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang #ateez yeosang #yeosang smut

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships - Epilogue

Summary: A glimpse into the rest of your life with Wanda Maximoff.

Word count: 2.3k+ | Warnings: None; Just Fluff | Ship: Wanda x Reader

Author's note: We officially come to a close! I'd like to take this opportunity to thank each and everyone of you who read, liked, commented, and reblogged this story. This is my first time completing a multi-chapter fic and I couldn't have done it without you. You guys will always have a special place in my heart. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I'll keep writing--my request box is open :)

Series Masterlist

-

Epilogue

Ten Months Later

Montauk, especially in winter, looks as if it's straight out of a postcard. 

For as long as you can remember, Montauk is the only place that's felt like home. And you've shared it with the woman who's known you even before you took your first breath in this world. But now, there are days when she doesn't recognize you, days when she cries out in fear thinking you're an intruder, when she tearfully calls for her own mother or searches anxiously for her late husband.

The merciless grip of Alzheimer's is steadily robbing her from you, and time seems to draw out the process in a cruel, agonizing manner.

Wanda is there for you though, through every difficult moment. She is your rock when you feel like crumbling, your light in the darkest moments. You are both staying in Montauk for some time now, taking care of your mother. Your mother sometimes recognizes her, and she’s remarkably warmer to your ex-wife more than you can remember. You think, perhaps, it has something to do with her memories that are slowly wilting away, and all that is left is the love she’s always held back for the other woman in your life.

One evening, as snowflakes start to gently fall from the sky, Wanda gets the sudden urge to take a walk. After some persuasion, you find yourself pulled out from the inviting warmth of the bed you've been sharing, grumbling while putting your layers of clothing back on to indulge Wanda in her whimsical idea.

Hand-in-hand, you set off just as the sun begins its descent, painting the horizon with streaks of indigo and pink. Snowflakes settle on Wanda's hair, turning her fiery locks into a winter wonderland. She smiles, her green eyes sparkling with the reflection of the dimming twilight. 

You soak in the sight of her, the love of your life, aglow in the beauty of the snowy evening, committing it to memory. 

An old park lies ahead, its swings and benches blanketed by the fresh snowfall. Wanda leads you to the swing set, her laughter carrying through the chilly air as she plops down on one of them. You take the swing beside her, the frosty metal biting through your clothing, but you don’t mind. The sight of Wanda, her face flushed with cold yet bright with joy, is worth braving the winter chill.

As the swing set gently comes to a halt, Wanda nudges you, pointing towards a row of trees in the distance. “Look over there,” she says, “Do you see that?”

You squint at the snow-laden branches, trying to decipher what she's referring to. While you're absorbed in your futile search, Wanda quietly slips off the swing, her heart pounding in her chest. She swallows hard, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. As you turn back to her with a puzzled look, ready to ask what you were supposed to see, you find her on her knees in the fresh snow, looking up at you with an earnest gaze.

She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box. With a quick flick of her wrist, she pops it open to reveal a simple yet stunning ring nestled within. 

“Will you marry me?”

Your heart stutters at the sight of Wanda's hopeful gaze. For a moment, everything seems to stand still. Snowflakes suspend their descent, the air holds its breath. With a lump in your throat, you utter a word you never thought you'd say in this moment. 

“No.”

Shock registers on Wanda's face, her eyes wide and vulnerable. The world seems to crash around her, the word echoing ominously in her ears. But then, before she has a chance to fully comprehend what's happening, you're sinking to your knees in the snow beside her.

“Because,” you begin, laughter choking your words even as tears track down your cheeks. You fumble in your pocket, pulling out your own small box. You pry it open, revealing a gleaming ring nestled within. “Because I want you to marry me.”

The world, previously paused, starts up again in a rush of sound and color.

Laughter bubbles up from within you, filling the silence, mingling with the tears streaming down your face. Wanda stares at you, stunned into silence, her tears mirroring your own.

“Yes,” she breathes out finally, her voice choked with emotion. “Yes, yes, yes.”

In the stillness that follows, you gently take her hand, slipping the ring onto her trembling finger. 

You look up at her, your heart in your eyes. “Yes, Wanda, I'll marry you,” you whisper.

Wanda's fingers are ice-cold, trembling with adrenaline, when she reaches for your hand, your ring. Her focus is so intense as she slips it onto your finger that it feels as if everything else has fallen away.

Without wasting a moment, Wanda lurches forward, lips finding yours in a kiss, full of passion and relief. The chill of the snow around you seems to dissipate as your mouths move in a rhythm perfected by time and familiarity. Every small shift, every pressure, the way she tugs at your lower lip, the way you reciprocate by pulling her closer by the waist, it all stokes a warmth that radiates from your core, spreading outwards, rendering the winter air irrelevant.

The soft moan that escapes Wanda against your lips fills you with a satisfaction, an overwhelming sense of rightness that even the best of days prior to this moment had not quite achieved.

Like all beautiful things, the kiss comes to an end. She pulls away, her breath ghosting over your lips as she whispers, “Yes,” echoing your sentiment. “Yes, you will.”

Year 2

A year later, the smell of antiseptic and the sterile white walls of a hospital room are your surroundings. You lay exhausted on the hospital bed, swaddled in a light hospital gown, holding the newest addition to your family. 

A baby girl. 

Yours and Wanda’s. 

She is swathed in soft pink blankets, her tiny face peering curiously at the world she's just entered.

Overwhelmed, overjoyed, and slightly terrified, Wanda is darting around the room, fretting over everything and anything. Her brows are furrowed as she questions the nurses on the baby’s feeding, changing, swaddling. She's always been meticulous, but her anxiety seems to be on a whole new level today.

Meanwhile, she's constantly checking up on you too. A wet cloth to dab your sweaty forehead, a soft kiss to reassure you, a gentle squeeze of your hand. Each time she asks if you're okay, if you need anything, if you're feeling too tired or too overwhelmed.

Her voice is a touch higher than usual, her movements slightly rushed. It's all too adorable, you think. The endearing sight of Wanda fussing over you and the baby brings a soft smile to your tired face.

Wanda’s gaze alternates between you and the tiny bundle in your arms, as if she’s afraid that this is all some dream that she would wake from.

“You're doing great, love,” you reassure her in a voice hoarse with exhaustion, but filled with so much love and admiration for this woman. Your woman. You wouldn’t trade her frantic behavior for anything else.

“Do you want to hold her?” you ask Wanda, lifting the baby slightly from your chest.

Wanda freezes at your question, her eyes flickering from the tiny face peeking out from the swaddles and back to you. She seems to be calculating the risk of her holding something so precious and delicate. She bites her lip nervously, her hand absently wringing together.

“I'm... I'm afraid I might hurt her. She's so small,” Wanda murmurs, almost too softly to hear.

A soft laugh bubbles up from you, finding her concern endearing. With your free hand, you tenderly take hers, squeezing reassuringly.

“Wands, love, she's our daughter. She already knows you and she wants her mom. Come on,” you encourage her, your voice soft but confident.

With a deep breath, Wanda nods. She gingerly slips onto the bed beside you, her arm tentatively reaching out. Her hand hovers over the baby's tiny form, her fingers trembling slightly.

Seeing her hesitate, you gently place the baby into Wanda's waiting arms. The moment your daughter is cradled in her arms, Wanda's eyes fill with unshed tears. Her gaze is locked on the little face looking up at her.

She's silent for a moment, just looking down at the tiny, squirming bundle in her arms. You watch as she traces her finger lightly over your daughter's chubby cheek, her touch feather-light as though she's handling a priceless piece of art.

“She's... She's beautiful,” Wanda finally whispers, her voice choked with emotion. You watch as a single tear escapes, trailing down her cheek.

“She has your eyes,” you say softly, leaning against Wanda's shoulder.

Her response is a watery laugh, and she turns to press a kiss on your forehead. “And your nose,” she retorts, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I didn’t know it was possible to be even more in love with you,” she adds, looking into your heavy-lidded eyes.

As you look at Wanda holding your daughter, overwhelmed with love and emotion, you think that there can't be anything equally perfect as this moment. 

Year 4

Something equally as perfect comes two years later.

You and Wanda return to your new apartment in Manhattan, this time with a little more noise, a lot more love, and two new family members in tow. 

The eighteen arduous hours of Wanda's labor are still fresh in your mind. The anxiety and fear you felt, the helplessness, as you watched her endure the pain, fighting for every breath, are experiences you would never forget. For a moment, you feared for her life, but Wanda, as always, proved to be a force of nature. She battled through, delivering the twins normally. Your two-year-old daughter has just been promoted to big sister status, with the arrival of her twin brothers, William and Thomas.

Wanda, holding Billy, looks at you over the top of his little head. Her eyes are bright, tired but excited. You carry Tommy, his tiny hand gripping your finger, and his weight in your arms feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Despite being outnumbered by your kids, you and Wanda are no novices now. With one child already, you've learned the ropes of parenthood, even if juggling the needs of three young children is still quite the adventure. 

Looking back, you can't help but wonder. If things had been smoother, easier, would you still end up here? 

Sure, life has thrown you a few curveballs. But those curveballs brought you to this moment, to this feeling of complete and utter happiness. 

You wouldn't change a thing.

Because this is it. This is your perfect. This is the beautiful chaos of a big family you and Wanda have created together. And you wouldn't trade it for the world. 

This moment is everything you ever wanted.

Year 35

You both retire to a charming little town on the east coast, away from the relentless hum of city life. The house is a modest one, its size perfect for two people entering the golden years of their life.

It's a quiet evening when you find yourself sitting in the bathtub, the warm water soothing against your aging muscles. The bathroom door creaks open and in walks Wanda, unadorned and as beautiful as the day you met her. You watch as she undresses, each wrinkle and mark a testament to the years you've spent together. The sight of her, the raw display of strength, beauty, and age, leaves you breathless.

She eases herself into the tub, the water rising as she settles across from you. Your legs brush against each other, a touch that still sends warmth spreading through your veins. Her eyes, the same captivating pair you lost yourself in more than four decades ago, meet yours and your heart does a familiar dance.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a teasing smile. “You have that look again.”

“What look?” you feign innocence, though a mischievous glint gives you away.

“That look as if you're seeing a young woman, and not the one who's been trying to get a senior discount for the past few years,” she quips.

You chuckle, leaning closer, the water ripples between you two as you do. “Honestly, after all this time,” you whisper, fingers tracing the back of her hand submerged in the water, “I can't help myself.”

She playfully rolls her eyes, her cheeks tinted with a hint of a blush that reminds you of her younger self. “Ever the charmer,” she murmurs, her voice betraying the flutter of excitement she still feels from your compliments, even after all these years.

“You may have a few more lines here and there,” you whisper, your eyes taking in every beautiful detail of her face, “But to me, you're as breathtaking as the day we met. Time can't change the way I see you, Wanda.”

With deliberate slowness, you lean in, pressing a delicate kiss to her lips. As you pull back, you see the warmth in her eyes, the soft smile playing on her lips, and you feel an old, familiar urge.

Your next kiss is deeper, more insistent, and your hand finds its way to her waist, pressing her closer. Her laughter bubbles up, breaking the kiss momentarily as she playfully swats your wandering hand away.

“You really still find this,” she gestures to herself, “Desirable?”

You lean back slightly, taking in her form with a deliberate, exaggerated slowness, your gaze wandering from her face to her feet and back up again. “Every inch.”

She gives you a mock exasperated look, but the smile that's trying to break through belies her true feelings. “You and your words,” she mutters, pulling you closer by the nape of your neck, her fingers tangling in your damp hair. “Do they ever run out?”

“Not when it comes to you,” you reply earnestly, your lips hovering just above hers. “Never when it comes to you.”

Making love isn't as easy as it once was, with bodies grown old and not as supple. 

But your love for Wanda—if anything, is stuck in time.

Taglist: @canvascoloredin | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife| @justagurlwholikes | @lizziesplant | @cowxpoke | @sokovianbaby| @swiftie1-0-1 | @scarlettbitchx | @tercerspirit-22 | @hyper-fixated-delusions

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction

[2baabbies]

🖤 Obsessed (Hyunjin x Reader) 🖤

Pairings: established relationship hyunjin x reader

Words: 3800

Summary: Hyunjin’s jealous streak ends with you finding him in a compromising position. AKA: in your bed, masturbating while wearing your shirt.

(somewhat inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s song by the same name; quote at the beginning also from this song)

Fluff + Smut + Humour

afab + fem!reader

CWs: jealousy (but make it cute and silly), reader is trying to make hyunjin jealous but only because it makes them both horny (and he’s a drama queen), he’s only a bit insecure, the point of contention is a big shirt but reader’s weight is not described (aka this fic is not limited to any one body size), reader and hyunjin have exes, reader lets hyunjin make assumptions that she teases him about later

Smut Tags: lots of teasing!!, (subtle) subby!hyune x dom!reader, intercourse (peanits in vagina), safe sex/use of condom, a bit of rough sex/uncomfortable position, reader has a kink for hyunjin’s desperation, begging, hair pulling, overstim, slight dumbification of reader, slightly pervy!hyune (smelling your clothes), hyunjin masturbates in your shirt (described in detail), little bit of voyeurism, bit of cum eating

!!ATTENTION!!

Reposting this fic to other platforms, including as a translation, is expressly prohibited. Do not copy, alter, or claim this fic as your own. Absolutely no permission is given to anyone to post my works, even with credit, and this fic should only appear on Ao3 or Tumblr under my accounts. Reposting is not only plagiarism, but a direct violation of my wishes as the original writer and owner. Please respect writers and don’t steal!

Likes, reblogs, asks and comments are very welcome and appreciated <3

~~~

‘And I know you love me, and I know it's crazy

But every time you call my name, I think you mistake me for her

You both have moved on, you don't even talk

But I can't help it, I got issues, I can't help it, baby’

It takes Hyunjin’s brain a second to register that something is wrong, and a second after that to actually take a look at himself and attempt to decipher what feels so off. He is still buffering when you return to your bedroom. You giggle at his bedhead and the cute expression on his face as he grabs the hem of his shirt and holds it up. He thought he had grabbed his white tshirt off the floor, and in his morning daze he had actually grabbed one of yours that you were too lazy to throw in the morning laundry. The graphic tee is far too big on him, even hanging off his shoulder, but you get a good look at the boxers he pulled on seconds before thanks to his hands lifting it up above his stomach. He drops the material and it falls down over his lap, unfortunately covering his soft tummy and pale thighs. He looks up then blinks away his sleep as you enter with a basket of clean laundry. You hold up his shirt and you giggle again at his sleepy smile.

“Looking for this?”

He nods and watches you drop the basket on the bed. You pull each freshly washed garment out for him and he shuffles over to loop his arms around your waist from behind.

“You let me sleep in…”

“You wouldn’t get up, sleeping beauty.”

He huffs and pecks the nape of your neck.

“You didn’t try hard enough…”

“Mhm, sure. You look cute in that.”

You admire him over your shoulder as he leans back and plucks the baggy fabric between his fingers.

“It doesn’t fit me…”

“I think that’s where the cuteness comes in.”

“I’m always cute…”

“That… I don’t disagree with that.”

He chuckles and turns you around so he can properly embrace you. You smile at him and nudge your noses together with a fond smile. He hums and nuzzles back gently, drawing your body tight to his with a content sigh.

“It’s so cozy… How come I hardly see you wearing it?”

You fail to realize at first that he is back to talking about the shirt, and take a moment of silence to contemplate his question.

“I wear it all the time. I think it’s just always dirty, I try to put something cleaner on when I know you’re coming over.”

You both laugh at your honesty.

“It’s really soft.”

“Well, I’d offer to buy you one but I don’t know where it came from.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone left it over a while ago…”

You do not regret the words when they leave your mouth, but you can do little to fight your smirk as Hyunjin’s lips draw into a tight line. He then purses his lips and puffs his cheeks in a dramatic pout.

“Who?”

“Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. Tell me who.”

You roll your eyes. Hyunjin was privy to the history of all your exes, situationships, and sexual escapades. You knew about his too. It had been relieving to be able to talk so candidly about your experiences with him, and it definitely allowed the two of you to become close early on in your relationship. There was something therapeutic about snuggling with your lover and bitching about the ones that let you down.

It did not, however, curb Hyunjin’s jealousy in the slightest. He knew their names, how long you were together, if you still talked, he even knew where some of them lived and worked. It would be alarming if you had not both offered all that information to each other willingly. And you knew, ultimately, Hyunjin would never restrict you from having a friendship with any of the exes you still talked to. Although you would never admit it, you treated his jealousy as a testament of his love. He only cared so much because he cared about you. Besides, it was a natural emotion, and the fact that he was willing to  be so emotionally available did more for you than anything your exes ever did.

“We don’t even talk anymore, Hyune. I don’t think she’s even in this country.”

“She. She. Oh god, I know who it is.”

“No, you don’t-”

He falls out of your arms and to the bed with a heavy thud, wailing incoherently as you observe his theatrics.

“She’s the worst!”

“Well, that’s why we’re not friends anymore…”

He suddenly thrashes and tears the shirt off with an animalistic grunt. You cock your eyebrow up and watch him roll around in vain when it gets stuck on his chin. He manages to pull it off and whips it at the floor, breathless after his performance.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“I can’t believe you let me wear her shirt.”

You scoff.

“Firstly, you’re the one that put it on. Secondly, it’s my shirt. She left it. Finders keepers.”

“I feel dirty.”

“You’re fine. And overreacting.”

You kneel on the edge of the bed and crawl up so you are sitting in his lap. He huffs and looks at you with a miserable expression.

“Why did you keep her shirt?”

“Because it’s a nice shirt, and I like it.”

“Get rid of it.”

“I will not. But, I’ll wear it less if that makes you feel better.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

You giggle.

“You’re being silly, Hyune.”

He looks away pointedly and you guide him back to face you by gripping his jaw. He swallows thickly as you, slowly, lean in to hover your face over his. You feel his shuddery breath on your lips, and bite down seductively to muffle the satisfied hum you release when you feel him hardening beneath you. He glares and scrunches his face with faux distaste as you dance your fingers up his stomach, then graze your thumb over one of his nipples. He shivers and finally lets the act drop, his annoyance melting into arousal as you peck shyly at his lips.

“Hyune,” You purr, “It’s okay if you’re jealous.”

“I-I know…”

You reward his cooperation with a teasing lick into his mouth, and carefully circle his nipple with light pressure. He whines and bucks up against you.

“You know how special you are to me. I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too,” He whimpers.

You respond with a sultry chuckle and begin stripping off your clothes.

There was a part of you that adored Hyunjin’s jealousy. It made him whiny, and needier for your affection. You would deny it vehemently if he ever called you out on it, but his desperation for your validation could have you dripping in seconds. So, it was a bit of a game between you. For the majority of the following week, Hyunjin would pretend he was unbothered when he saw you wearing that shirt. In turn, you would pretend that you were accidentally choosing it over all your other pajama options. While it may have been a bit unfair- or even mean- on your part to watch him squirm and stifle his complaints each time you pulled it on, it did not weigh on your conscience. You love each other; you trust he will let you know when his limit has been met.

And he does.

“Take it off.”

“Ha-ah,” Your eyes roll as you mumble back, “Hn?”

Your mind is fuzzy. Hyunjin has your ankles hooked over his shoulders and his cock pressed deep inside you. Your arms are limp above your head, fists clenching in the pillow supporting you. You tilt your head back with a moan as his hips rock against the back of your thighs in a steady rhythm.

“Baby, take it off, please.”

His fingers are curled in the hem of the white shirt, lifting it up as he ruts himself into your warmth. You huff out a laugh and tilt your head back to face him. You moan as you take in his heady groans and pleading eyes. His plump lips are parted to exhale a whine and his cheeks are impossibly flushed. You clench when he makes another pathetic noise and shoves his face into your neck. You smirk as your shirt gets rucked up to your breasts.

“I-I’m cold, Hyune.”

“Please. Please, please, please.”

He draws back and now you whine as his movements falter. 

“Hyunjin?”

He raises his head and pouts, eyes teary as he looks at you. You shudder, feeling your heat gush at the sight. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm, and your mind is scrambled with the intent to chase that high. You roll your hips and he gives a shaky thrust in return.

“Don’t make me beg, darling. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Mhm! M’okay, take it- take it off, Hyune.”

His touch is deft as you lift your arms and he slips the shirt over your head. He throws it behind him, then draws a gasp from you when he repositions himself above you. Your mouth is agape in pleasure when he starts thrusting again, legs folded to your chest as he plows you into the mattress. You are thankful for the pillow, otherwise your head would be banging against the headboard. His tip almost kisses your cervix and you let out a breathless wail as humps into you, following each precise thrust with steadily rising groans. You reach up to thread your fingers in his hair and bring him in for a kiss. Your toes curl as his body melts into yours, and you finally reach your climax. You share more consuming kisses as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Hyunjin is soon following you, getting sloppier in his movements as his pleasure increases. He leans away, just enough to let you catch your breath. Your legs are trembling from the strain, and now from the overstimulation of his cock filling your fluttering cunt. He shakes his head when stray hairs stick to his skin and fall into his eyes, and you lovingly tuck each one out of the way.

“Hyune…”

“G-Good?”

“Mhm,” You nod and quiver, “M’good. Can’t think.”

He laughs and leans down to peck your lips. For a moment it looks like he has a quip lined up, but he just snuggles his head into your chest and lets out a ruined moan. You giggle as his thrusts stutter, then he lazily rolls his hips into you with a relieved hum. You let him ride out his release, kissing the crown of his head and playing with his hair as he lets out little moans and sighs of pleasure. When he finally stills, you reach between your bodies and gently push on his chest.

“Ah-ahn…”

“Hyune, you’re squishing me.”

“Hah, sorry.”

He groggily rises and lets your legs fall out of their tense position. You help him slip off the condom and discard it in the trash bin beside your bed. Your legs are numb, and you are a little shuddery all over from the lingering overstimulation. Hyunjin helps you get comfortable then melts into your waiting arms. You resume kissing and caressing him slowly as he tucks the two of you under the blanket and settles on top of you. He rubs his dumpling cheek over your heart and smiles when you giggle at him.

“I love you,” He murmurs, “You okay?”

You nod.

“I’m good, baby. I love you, too. You always make me feel so good.”

“Mhm, I’m sorry I was rough.”

Hyunjin massages your hips and gently squeezes your thighs. You hum and brush your fingers through his hair, tidying his mussed locks and ridding it of tangles.

“You don’t have to be sorry, babe. I loved it. You were perfect.”

“You’re perfect.”

He leans up to share a sweet kiss, stroking your cheek as your lips meld together. When you part, he pecks your chin then lets his lips trail down your neck. Your eyes flutter and you exhale peacefully as exhaustion overtakes you. Still, you stay awake when he brushes his lips over your ear and whispers to you.

“Thank you, for taking it off.”

“Mhm. Jealous baby.”

He whines at your teasing tone.

“You’re so mean.”

“And you’re ridiculous,” You murmur as you drift off, “But I still love you. You’re my favourite boy. My one and only.”

He nods and pecks your cheek. “I know. You’re my one and only, too, baby.”

The morning arrives peacefully. You wake up before your alarm, and enjoy a few minutes of admiring Hyunjin’s sleeping visage before you slip out of bed to get ready for the day. He is still sleeping after you finish your routine, completely undisturbed as you get dressed and check your phone. You still have some time before you have to go, so you sit beside him on the bed and card your fingers through his hair as you scroll through your phone. He stirs and looks up at you blearily when you run your thumb down the bridge of his nose.

“Mh?”

“Good morning, baby,” You peck his forehead, “I have to go out. I have a couple errands to run. I won’t be long, okay?”

“Mhhm.”

You tuck him in and kiss his temple as he nuzzles his face into a pillow. You giggle and leave with a fond smile.

Hyunjin wakes later, before you return, and pats the empty space beside him until he realizes you are not there. He rolls onto his back to look around and swipes a hand over his face as he fights his disorientation. Eventually, he vaguely remembers you kissing him goodbye earlier when he was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Unfortunately for him, he has no clue when that was or how much longer it will be until you get home. He lets out a frustrated sigh for no one but himself and eases himself out of bed. He pulls on his boxers, finding them among the pile of other clothes hastily discarded when the two of you fell into bed the night before, and shuffles to the bathroom.

He is a bit more awake when he returns to your bedroom, and pauses as it registers in his vision. White fabric, carelessly casted to the floor, sitting atop your panties and his hoodie. He scoffs at it, so it will know how he disapproves of it gracing his presence, and crosses the room to pick it up off the floor. He had not cared to look at the white tee any more closely once the idea of you wearing someone else’s clothes crossed his mine, but he is drawn to dissecting it now. He does not recognize the print on the front, some band or characters you never mentioned, but he does admire it a bit now. Ultimately, he understands why you kept the shirt on an objective level. It is nice, albeit a little worn, and there is nothing aesthetic-wise that he dislikes about it.

Hesitantly, he toys with it before bringing it to his nose. He gives a tentative sniff as he recalls your words from a week ago. I wear it all the time. I think it’s just always dirty. The shirt definitely did not smell like fresh laundry, or whatever he was expecting it to smell like. It smells like you. He cannot place it, there is a mix of familiar smells invading his senses; the remnants of your body wash, a hint of the candle you light after stressful days, the trace of your hot scent that drives him crazy during your intimate moments. His eyelids flutter and he groans, pressing the fabric to his nose and inhaling deeper. He recalls how comfortable the shirt was to wear before he learned of its origins, and begrudgingly pulls it on before crawling back in bed.

Missing you is torture for him during the rare moments he wakes up alone in your bed, but wearing your shirt settles his loneliness for a bit. That is, until he gets restless again. He could go find his phone, wherever he abandoned it when you two started getting handsy the night before, but he is already so comfortable under the covers. The only thing missing is you. He pulls the collar up over his nose and breathes in, momentarily subdued by the illusion of being enveloped by you. Then he remembers the vision of you from last night, wearing this same shirt and taking him so dutifully in this same bed. He groans and curses himself, reaching down to palm over his growing erection. The shirt, still too big for him, adds an extra obstacle between him and relief as he strokes himself leisurely. He shucks his boxers off under the blanket and reaches under the shirt to grasp his cock firmly. He groans and gives himself a rough squeeze before jerking himself slowly.

One hand holds the shirt up over his nose while the other roams over his length. He wishes it was you. He bucks his hips up at the thought of you touching him and puffs sharply into the shirt. He squirms, the tip of his cock rubs against the inside of the shirt with every stroke and creates a delicious amount of friction. It is so soft, gliding against him without any discomfort and very little resistance. His hips jump again and he has to clutch the base of his cock to stop himself from climaxing too quickly. He discovers that he can taste your scent stronger if he inhales through his mouth, and before too long is panting desperately as he thrusts into his fist. He is too hot now, and kicks off the blanket before resuming the rhythm of sucking in deep breaths while fucking into his own hand.

He is almost there now, possibly on the verge of cumming faster than any other time he has touched himself. He watches his cock strain under the shirt through his eyelashes, and whines when his precum begins wetting a spot in the white fabric. It sticks to him now, turning a bit translucent where his arousal beads through the material. His eyes pinch shut and he controls himself again. He does not want to finish so quickly. This feeling of pleasure is new to him, being smothered in your scent and comfort with the perfect sensation helping him get off. The only thing that might compare is actually getting to fuck you, but this is so different.

He cannot edge himself any longer, the pleasure that has been pooling has become too much. He begins jerking himself faster, ignoring the dry scrape of his unlubed palm on his shaft. He collects some of his precum and uses that to ease his motions. It helps just enough and allows him to reach his climax without further hesitation. He cries out and pants out a series of whimpering moans as his cum shoots out in thick spurts.

You lean in the doorway, watching his release soak through the fabric and further dampen the spot over his cock. You had been watching since he kicked the blanket away. In fact, you knew what he was doing when you entered the apartment and heard his soft moans ringing out in the silence. What you had not expected was walking in on the scene before you- but you were far from disappointed. You let Hyunjin recover a bit before speaking up. He tugs down the collar of the shirt and heaves in a much needed breath.

“I thought you didn’t like that shirt?”

He jumps and throws his palm over his face.

“Fuck.”

You laugh as his other hand slips guiltily out from under the shirt and falls limp on the bed, a bit of his cum sticking between his fingers. You saunter over to the bed, leaning in to run your hand up the inside of his leg as you walk up alongside him. He shivers and peeks at you through his fingers, chest rising and falling quickly in anticipation. Your hand takes his wrist from where it lies on the bed, you hold him firmly as you ease down to straddle his lap. You hold up his messy fingers, almost in admiration, and meet his gaze as you suck them into your mouth. He groans and lets his other hand drop so he can watch you lap each one clean. Your lip twitches as you guide his fingers over your lips, smearing your spit as you lead him to cup your cheek.

“Well?”

“Huh? Oh, the shirt, right,” You giggle and silently urge him to reply, “I-It’s alright. I still don’t like it.”

“Really? You seem to like it, at least a little bit.”

You pry the shirt up from where it has begun to stick to his cock and he hisses. You tilt your head and run your thumb over the patch of soiled fabric thoughtfully.

“O-Only because it smells like you.”

“Oh? Is that it? Are you still jealous?”

Hyunjin sets his jaw and avoids your gaze for a moment as he licks his lips nervously.

“I don’t know…”

“Be honest, Hyune.”

His eyes flick shyly to yours.

“It’s not easy just to… not be jealous. You know that.”

“Mhm…”

You move up his lap, not caring when you settle onto the dirty patch or his oversensitive cock. He watches with a worried frown as you brace your hands on either side of his head and lean over him.

“Wanna know a secret?”

“Yes,” He breathes, looking up at you expectantly.

“You’re jealous over someone who I never had feelings for, and who never got to touch me.”

His eyes widen then narrow.

“But, y-you said your ex left it!”

“Ah-ah- I said ‘someone’ left it behind. You were the one who assumed I was ever into that person.”

He puffs his cheeks and glares softly.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie, I just didn’t correct you. You shouldn’t have assumed you knew who forgot it.”

“You set me up.”

You laugh.

“I set you up? For what? To catch you jerking off in my shirt?”

“Yes!”

Your laughter intensifies and Hyunjin fights his smile. He looks embarrassed, face still flushed, but the twinkle in his eye as you become breathless above him seems to signify his ease with the circumstances. You sigh happily and lean down to reward him with a deep kiss, which he eagerly returns.

“How about we get you clean, hm?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You giggle and tug at the shirt playfully.

“And I’ll get our shirt washed up.”

“Yeah, you let it go too long. It’s way too dirty to wear now.”

You snort.

“Okay, actually, you can wash your own messes.”

He grins.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Hyune.”

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #skz fanfic #skz reader insert #stray kids reader insert

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Ignorant Cruelty

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Mean!Chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Wife!Reader

WORDS: 1,895.

SUMMARY [Requested by Anon]: “Omg can you do and mean chubby eagon plsss🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽❤️”

WARNINGS: cruel!Aegon ii, mentions of objectifying women, mentions of p in v sex, degradation kink, size kink, food play, breeding kink, lactation kink, humiliation kink, stomach/thigh riding, jealous/possessive!Aegon ii, swearing. 

A/N - my mind is a little all over the place, so sorry if I'm taking forever to do your requests, just too many horny thots in such little time. so I've got a few WIPs and trying to smash out all the "simpler" ones xxxxx I WILL eventually get to the requests sent, promise x 

Despite his social stance and political advantage in the realm, Aegon had a notorious reputation of being cruel and imposing.

As a young boy, he was quite the handsome kind, as his endearing Valyrian features accentuated a rare beauty unforeseen in the realm.

However, his unkept and gluttonous habits led the boy to grow in size: larger than his brothers combined respectively, many had grown a distaste for his appearance [although dared not to utter a word directly to his face, in fear of the Prince's wrath].

Aegon was either ignorant to his weight gain or simply was not phased by it, nor its implications. He found enjoyment in his food, and paid no mind to the judgement of others, as he gorged himself during feasts. 

Nonetheless, Aegon sought to the comfort of whores and ladies of the night, in which his wealth could grant him the company of multiple women at once. 

He developed the wicked habit as many inconsiderate men of the realm did, not viewing women as human counterparts, although rather objectifying them and their "assets": many argued the Prince did so, as means to raise his own ego and esteem.

Regardless, whoever his betrothed was to be, was often deemed as doomed: for many noble, highborn maidens of the realm, from powerful families, were reluctant to present themselves as candidates.

From gossip and whisper, it was told that Aegon himself, was hesitant to allow his family the authority to choose and rather, he himself, settle the decision.

That's when you came into his life. You were a meek, shy girl [only because the rumours of your husband to be, made you fearful of the man's capability].

Seeing Aegon in the flesh, did not help either... He was above average height [taller than yourself], wide and formidable, his waist line was extended and round, arms bulky and fleshy, his thighs were stocky and seemed sturdy.

You could not deny, a deeply rooted part of you inside was aroused by the sight of him.

Why he chose you, no one could explain. Whether it was based on pure attraction, you could not decipher either, for Aegon was demeaning, often belittling you and your family.

At first you assumed, it was his attempt at "small talk", misplacing his manners, and yet he remained consistent in his taunting jabs.

As taught by the Septas you'd grown with, you remained silent and obedient to his every word, through till the marriage, and the night of consummation.

Aegon pestered you with gruelling comments on how inexperienced and useless you would be in bed, unable to "satisfy him" like the whores he often pursued.

You'd reached breaking point and retaliated furiously, leaving Aegon stunned as you spat your venom.

"Mayhaps I am no whore that can sate your spoiled, fat cock, but I am a women of virtue. Do well to remember that, husband. Need I remind you, you chose me. You have no one else to blame for your inept decision making in a wife, than yourself."

His stoic, unmoving gaze remained fixated on you, and the fear began to stir inside, despite having initially felt relief with your abrupt confrontation.

Aegon slowly approached you, his stern gaze firmly fixated on you, like a predator hunting prey, until you were cornered between him and the bed frame.

Using his stronger, dominant mass, he'd shove you down onto the bed, as he pins your arms down, his heavy weight you could not find the almighty strength to break free from.

"Has my fat cock been on your mind? A woman of virtue ends tonight, once I fuck you senseless, you'll be begging for more, as the whores do... My very own obedient, little whore."

“You spoke beyond your limit, little one. I’m going to punish you for that.”

Aegon goes feral on you that night and for all the intimate nights to come: rarely speaking to you, other than to give commands and instructions when you fuck, he initially remains oblivious to your emotional needs. Until, he overhears a conversation between you and a fellow maid/sibling, regarding how lonesome you feel.

He understands that feeling all to well, and the guilt begins to stir, as much as he insists on denying it.

Thus, the poor attempts at small talk begins, and you find that he not only attempts to sate himself, however, you also in the process.

The size difference between you two, is incomparable. During the first few times, a maester was sent to tend to your aches and pains: Aegon being the one to send them up, which you liked to presume was his way of caring. 

Yet, as discrete as he may be, he relishes in the idea that he has tainted you so, and often comments on how pathetic and weak you are against him. Immensely fuelling his ego.

Food play to the max: he relishes in his two favourite things: you and desserts. Often arranging for the kitchen to bring up his favourite dishes and wine. Eating cake off your tits, dribbling honey on your ass cheeks and cunt as he licks it clean off you.

He tends to dismiss the power of his own strength, how strapping his grip can be on you, although he does not mean to intentionally inflict it: a whimper or hurt look on your face, he immediately refrains from hurting you further.

Nonetheless, he loves manhandling you: how effortlessly he can pick you up, carry you, swivel you around, until your in just the right position for him.

His cock, [as correct as you were that it was fat] was impressive: seeing it the first time and onwards, you could never acclimate, physically nor mentally. It's girthy circumference, the thick veins that travelled down its mass, gave it this hungry, eager look. Its tip blush red, often glistening with a white, clear film that would ooze fervently at the sight of you.

Undoubtedly, it hurt unlike anything else: yet it was a pleasurable, almost addictive sort of torment.

Aegon had long forgotten the sensation of a maiden's tight, contracting cunt, how your walls clenched for his cock, often commenting how "needy" you were for him.

"Who could sate you like I do? A lean knight, perhaps a slim nobleman, with a needle for a cock... Look at how desperate I've made you for me."

He also gets you to ride his thighs and stomach, always fantasising about it, he forces you to do so, which much to his pleasure, you get off of easily. 

Aegon had grown quite possessive of you, despite struggling to show his affections for you. You'd come to understand that it was his approach to appreciating you.

If he felt that a lord was greedily occupying your time in conversation, he'd lazily send for a servant to fetch you and have you hand-feed him treats and bites of his meal, even a pint of his wine.

He’d publicly scold and torture the culprit later, and punish you in the confinement of your private chambers. 

“Think you can get away with seducing other men like that in front of me, woman. I saw the way you’d laugh at their shit jokes, and what was it having to cop a feel of Lord Stark’s arm. Need I remind you, who the fuck I am. The Prince, the King to be. In fact, I ought to punish you till I’m certain you’ve learnt your fucking lesson, insolent girl...”

The only time he'd grant you the opportunity of any public displays of affection, came with an intent of showing you off as his, having you comfortably seated on his meaty, broad thighs [which you could not deny, was actually quite snug].

Once Aegon was crowned King, it became a habit to have you seated on his lap as he sat atop the Iron Throne. Publicly demeaning you in front of his liege and serving subjects, commenting on how clingy and deprived you were, unable to be without him.

Especially once King, he rather enjoys fucking you in public, risqué areas where a passerby may hear or witness the deed being done. Seeing the fear of humiliation stirring across your face [even though he knows no one will dare to argue against him, as King], he praises your innocence. 

“Terrified? Don’t want your fellow subjects to think the worst of their Queen, how aroused I make you, how easily you submit yourself to me? Look at you, a whimpering, wet mess. Shameful...What would they think of you now?”

You did not mind [despite encouraging Aegon to tone it down initially], for his promiscuous habits of seeking out to sneaky rendezvous with the eager prostitutes that filled the Street of Silk, had come to a long-awaited end.

You had not openly discussed it with him, however he began to notice the sadness in your eyes, at the sheer thought that whenever he left you in the night [even if it was to attend some late council meeting, or to fetch a midnight treat] that your mind pondered over awful, scandalous thoughts.

He would open the conversation one late night, before you'd drift off to sleep, after an exhausting, strenuous round of fucking: he made the promise to you, that his loyalty remained with you.

"I may not be able to erase the disgrace that haunts your mind from my actions, although I vow that you are the only one, Y/N... Since I made the decision, it was only ever you."  

As Aegon's waist line had grown noticeably, his infatuation with you had grown exponentially too.

The primal urge to to drench you in his cum, drowning in his hot, potent seed was a must whenever granted the chance.

"To see you swell as I have, with my babe in your belly. Tits full of sweet milk... Gods be good, we will populate the Red Keep if we must."

Once you do fall pregnant, best believe Aegon would be an absolute pest when it comes to your lactation: eager to taste you, he'd become addicted and persistent in asking to drink from your tit, seeing how sensitive and tense they get from the fullness, you have no choice although to trust in him relieving you.

Actually causes him to gain even more weight from the quality nutrition: milk dribbling from his plump lips, drooling down his soft, blurred jawline, as he becomes ‘milk drunk’ from you.

He loves the feeling of your swollen stomach against his soft, plush one: having you ride him one top, as he kneads at your breast, some milk oozing from your sensitive nipple, he'd lick it off his pudgy fingers.  

Aegon however remains vexed with utilising words to express his affections for you: often sought to spoiling you with opulent gifts from across the realm, rare gems and luscious silk gowns and intimacy between a man and his wife.

He whispers an “I love you” thinking you are dead asleep in the night, embraced in his warm, bulky arms, causing you to smile, hidden beneath the dark.  

Regardless, you are more in tune with your thoughts and words: often expressing your admiration for Aegon, which he savours, always eager for your attention.

Nonetheless, you are content with your lives together, ignorant to the judgement of others, you remain committed to each other. 

general taglist - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @rafesbarbiegirl @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylas-the-grim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea​

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #TGC #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii x fem!reader x twin brother #aegon ii x y/n #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction

[axeoverblade]

42 miles with a trini reader or any west Indian implications tbh?? 🩷🩷

Caribbean/ West Indian Reader Head Cannons

Earth 42! Miles x fem! Reader

Synopsis! Where you are in touch with your roots.

MASTERLIST

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none!

Word count: unavailable

Authors comment: short blurb of head cannons. I tried my best sorry if anything is innacurate please let me know so I can fix it <3

Do not copy! All rights reserved to ©axeoverblade

When Miles first met you, it was hard for him to understand your broken English. But you were so pretty he was going to make sure he learned how.

Even though you were born US, your parents moved to America making your accent super strong and often hard for him to decipher

But now that he’s known you and had been with you for some time, it was like second language when he heard you speak.

He would sometimes even catch himself speaking like you, making the people around him confused.

They would just have to get used to it like he did.

One thing you two bond over is your love of fruit

Give you two a good mango or plátano and it was over

His mom absolutely loves you no doubt.

Sees you as one of her own and is so happy when you come over

She had given both you and Miles a talk separately about not breaking the others heart

Promised to her you wouldn’t and vise versa

When you first met uncle Aaron he gave you a really hard time

But when you stood your ground over and over again he eventually accepted you, telling miles that you could “hold your own.”

Aaron ends up becoming super close to you and acts like he likes you more than his own nephew

…

He does

You had been invited to multiple functions before and honestly his whole fam loved when you were around tbh

Of course in every relationship there was conflict

You two butt heads often because how strongly opinionated you both were

Both of you were like super sassy and had attitudes so you would often have “heated debates” over the littlest things, even if it was just for jokes

Something that was really hard for Miles was learning to accept what you wore

Like you were mad comfy with your body and often wore clothes that he would deem as “inappropriate” but he knew you weren’t wearing them to be.

Ended up having to letting it go and now non verbally threatens anyone who stares at you for too long.

He was genuinely surprised with how much your family varied in color the first function of yours he went to

He thought his familia was the biggest, most diverse in New York, he was wrong.

Yours definitely took the cake

You made him try doubles, and at first he though they were going to be gross or just not his thing

He was 100% wrong. You ended up having to make another plate because he ate em all.

Your mom loved Miles, happy that you found someone who loved you just as much as you loved him.

But she makes him help clean up

First time Miles met your father he could’ve sworn your dad absolutely hated him

He did

Ended up accepting Miles after he defended you from a stranger in front of him

Started calling Miles son and would often ask about how he was when Miles was gone.

Safe to say Miles was going to be around for a while

©axeoverblade

#42 miles morales x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #prowler x reader #42 miles morales #earth 42 #miles morales x reader #cute #miles x reader #earth 42 miles x reader

[lovetei]

I accidentally posted your ask without the request and this is so late, I'm so sorrryyy :')

--------------------------------------------------

Mammon consulting MC after he tried to do the did with her but she refused and he went to ask Asmo and he found out MC is actually insecure

Warnings: Female MC, insecurity, kinda lewd at the end but no smut, just lewd language

Links: Masterlist

--------------------------------------------------

You were sitting in your bed with Mammon, watching your comfort show

But something feels weird

Mammon have been acting weird and is always red and nervous whenever your look at him

You're worried about him so you finally decided to ask him what's wrong.

"Mammon?" You mumbled as you paused the show "Is there something wrong? You seem sick..." You commented as you look at him worriedly while placing your hand on his thigh for comfort.

"N-No... It's not that I just..." He shyly replied as he put his hand on top of yours and slightly squeezed it.

He then grabbed your hand and used it to pin you on your bed before he immediately went down and kissed your lips, shakily but lovingly.

You who felt yourself smiling in the kiss and even decided to wrap your arms on his neck

Blushing cutely and smiling oh so sweetly at him

Without knowing that something you would never forget is about to happen

The kiss is starting to get longer and longer

And when he slipped his hand up your shirt and tried to caress your body you finally snapped.

"Ah!" You groaned before pushing him off of you and immediately grabbing the blanket your used earlier to cover your clothed body.

Your face red but maybe it's not because of embarrassment, it's because of... Anger?

Mammon looked at you confused "W-Why? Is there something wrong?" He asked getting more and more anxious every second.

"I... I'll never sleep with you!" You replied all of a sudden as tears threatened to fall from your eyes as you ran out of your own room leaving Mammon confused.

Mammon didn't know what happened

He thought you like him and he's the only one..?

You picked him over everyone else so why won't you let him claim you?

Did you regret your decision?

And without knowing, the anxiousness that's crawling in his skin started to cause his blood to boil

Storming out of your room too, his eyes are dark and he's clenching his jaw

"Mammon..!" You called out as you saw him leave your room, trying to explain why you did everything he didn't expect.

But what surprised you is for him to look back at you with those eyes, the same eyes that his brothers used to give you before they turn into their demon form and attempt to take your life.

After half an hour, Mammon is already at the brink of tears

He didn't mean to look at you like that he promised!

The way your eyes widened as soon as you saw his made him feel like he's a monster and not the guy you chose to love...

How can he apologize to you?

He always apologize whether it's to his brothers or to the witches and demons he owed money to...

But to the one he loves?

No way...

So there's only one person he can come to and ask about this type of things

Asmodeus

"What? She refused to sleep with you?" Is Asmo's first question as soon as he heard about you and Mammon's problem.

He started asking about the things Mammon did before and after the incident and he saw no faults except for the fact that he randomly pushed you and tried to do it without your consent...

But that seems to not be the problem here...

Asmodeus who decided to ask you himself because he just can't decipher why.

He saw you alone in the library with a worn out look on your face as you fidget with your fingers...

It seems that there's a misunderstanding here.

He sat next to you and patted your shoulder "I heard what happened with you and Mammon earlier..." He admitted causing you to immediately look at him in shock.

You tried to explain why, telling him that it's not Mammon's fault and that there's really something wrong and you can't just-

But he saw how your eyes started to get red and how you started to talk nonsense so he asked you straightly, why?

His eyes shot open as soon as he heard the reason

You're insecure..?

He just hugged you immediately as soon as he heard that

You don't deserve to feel such a thing

He said that, Mammon will love you even if you're a worm so you don't need to worry about anything

He continued his three hour rant and comforting there until you're finally parsuaded to talk to Mammon and tell him what really happened.

You knocked on his door and he immediately opened it, as what he expected, coming to Asmo is the best choice, he invited you in and you say down on his couch.

"Are you... Willing to talk about what happened now..?" He asked as he say beside you, after a couple second of awkward silence you finally took a breath in and admitted.

He didn't know...

Is that why you always avoid talking about your body?

How come he didn't notice such an important detail...

He feels so useless

And for the first time

He admitted how stupid he is

But you consoled him saying that it's okay

And that it's not his fault at all and what happened earlier is just an accident

But what happened next caught his off guard

"H-Help you love your body..?" He mumbled, do you mean what he thinks you mean..?

You're the one initiating it now..?

He doesn't know how to react... Earlier you pushed him away and now you're on top of him? What do you expect him to do? Not to cum on the spot..?

#obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me nightbringer #obey me scenarios #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me angst #obey me x reader #obey me comfort #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus

[call-sign-shark]

Day 2: Cut Your Wings || Alfie Solomons x Reader

Requested by a lovely Anon 🖤

TW: Kinktober prompt- cut, dubcon, blood, inflected pain, masturbation?, enemies with sexual tension, canonical violence, dirty talk, sexual torture, kidnapping

Words: 2K

Notes: This work is a part of the Peaky Kinktober Event you can find here. Comment on the event post if you want to be tagged in the future works for Kinktober. Also this one ain't as smutty as I thought because I got carried away by the narrative?? Shark please, that ain't the goal of Kinktober??

A grunt escaped from your lips as you desperately tried to free yourself from the heavy shackles imprisoning your wrists. You moved them back and forth, then left and right, turning your hands in every position possible, and yet nothing worked. The handcuffs were too tight for you to slip from them. Another painful moan echoed in the damp and dark room of the distillery in which the jew's henchmen had locked you a few hours ago. The cold metal bit your flesh again. "Fuck". When loud footsteps resounded behind the heavy wooden door of your prison, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and prayed to God for a quick and painless death because you knew that Alfie Solomons wasn't a forgiving man. Quite the contrary, his quick temper, and frightening antics only fueled his reputation as one of the most dangerous criminals in London.

"So that's the fucking little rat my men told me about." He stated, standing in the middle of the open door, both of his hands resting on the handle of his cane and a black hat hiding one of his hazel gray eyes.

"Fuck you, fucking cunt! When Tommy will know about this y'all going to regret it!" Words passed your thoughts, spitting their venom at him and yet the man remained silent. You even wondered if he had paid attention to what you just said or if the voices in his head were louder than yours. His gaze, intense and unfathomable, was observing you attentively as if he was trying to decipher the secrets of the most unique precious stone he had even held in his palm. After what seemed to be an eternity, Alfie Solomons pursued his lips, stroked his scruffy beard, and nodded, coming to an agreement with himself.

"See, my mates here told me that Tommy Shelby had sent a few men to London, but here's the problem – He said 'men'. And not 'little girl', which is definitely what you are. A bloody and nosey little girl. Hmhm." He agreed with his own statement before walking to the dusty furniture that was leaning against one of the brick walls. Then, he took off his hat and his long dark coat, and put the cane aside before walking towards you. He stopped in front of you, tattooed arms crossed on his muscular chest. The unusual amount of greenish ink deeply engraved in his skin caught your attention for a short while, you curiously observing the pattern it formed. Of course, both Tommy and Arthur had tattoos, but not as many as the mad baker.

"Would you look at ya. Haven't you something else to do instead of following a Birmingham scumbag's orders? Like finding yourself a man or something like this, y'know. 'Cause I don't see why such a young lass like ya puts her own life into danger for Tommy fucking Shelby." As he talked, Alfie had closed the distance between you and him. He was now leaning above you, so close that his scorching breath was fanning over your skin and the hairs of his beard were almost tickling your face. "So can you tell me why? The only reason I see is that Tommy Shelby sticks his cock in you and it has magically bred some loyalty." The right corner of his full lips curled into a mocking grin when he noticed how his words had lit a fire of rage in your eyes. Bang on, he thought, "No. It's more complex than that, innit? He doesn't want you and yet you remained devoted to him in the hope that one day, maybe, he'd look at you differently. He'd look at you like a woman to fuck senseless and not a pawn of his game."

"Kill me, Solomons. Kill me now or I'll fucking cut you once I'll be out of this shit-stinking place." You hissed, baring your teeth like a cornered animal, the truth hurting you more than a gunwound. For a split second, Alfie swore you would have dug your fangs into his throat, sinking them deep until you tasted blood if you hadn't been restrained by chains and handcuffs.

"Cut me?" The baker repeated these two words, pretending to be surprised while the tone in his voice betrayed how amused he was, "And what kind of tool would you use to cut me? This?" As he said so, Alfie pulled your grey beret out of the large pocket of his trousers, holding it to have a good grip at the base of the razor blades that were sewn to the fabric. "You Peaky girl like to cut people with this right? So come on, threaten me again little bird, I dare you." He said with both of his eyebrows raised in a taunting expression.

"D'ya think you're scaring me? I'm not scared, I'm a Peaky Blinder and I'm going to make things clear again: you better kill me now because if you miss this chance, I'll fucking cut your face the next time we meet–" You didn't finish your sentence, your words replaced by a scream of pain when Alfie, without a single warning, slashed your arm with your peaky cap. Blood soon filled the gash and overflowed from it, soaking the white fabric of your shirt in a crimson stain.

"Go ahead, dove. Say it again." This time you remained silent, staring at him in horror. He had cut deep, deep enough for you to feel the sickening pulse of your own heart in the wound. Your refusal to obey led Alfie to burst into an unexpected rage. His face reddened, and his brows furrowed, casting their shadow eyes. With one strong and brutal movement, Alfie's free hand grabbed your face, his calloused fingers sinking into your cheeks until your jaw hurt. "SAY IT AGAIN AND I'LL CUT YOUR FUCKING WINGS!" He barked, a bit of spit spilled in his beard and bloodshot eyes staring at your very soul. "See, you don't stand a chance here my sweet dove. You're just a little girl playing gangsters". In an unsettling mood swing, his temper had gone quiet again.

"I'm not gonna kill you peaky girl, that would be too easy. I see your eyes, and what I see in them is that you ain't afraid of death and I reckon this is a trait I particularly fancy in someone. So what should I do with you? We might..." He made a short pause when he noticed a tiny detail he hadn't spotted before. Alfie's hazel grey eyes abandoned yours and dropped to your bosom where he could see the round shape of your hardened nipples pointing through the fabric of your shirt. Licking his lips, Alfie's iris darkened with mischief and something you never expected to witness in the eyes of an enemy – lust. An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine as the baker's smirk suddenly turned into a wicked and threatening smile, "I know, dove. I know what I'm going to do with you. Everything's clear in my mind". A sparkle of pure madness enlightened his face, just like an artist struck by inspiration. With his words followed his hand, that came meeting your trembling body. His strong palm roamed all over you, the friction it created snatching a whimper from your tight throat while you understood his obscene plans.

"No, no! Please! Alfie--" You wanted to scream but you couldn't, petrified from the moment his fingers trailed down your belly and ended their exploration between your legs. The noisy juggling of the chains you produced by struggling sounded like a melody in Alfie's ears, who hummed in satisfaction at your cunt's warmth he could feel through the fabric of your trousers. His fingers pressed a bit more against your core, shooting a wave of forbidden arousal through your entire body and making your legs shake.

"You're in heat, lil' dove." He noted with an amused tone before closing the distance between your ear and his lips. You squeezed your eyes shut at the overwhelming scratching sensation of his gruff beard against your skin and the blazing blast of his breath. The room spun as you found yourself intoxicated by the fragrance of his cologne. Musky, and with a dab of cedarwood. His scent was as raw and wild as him. "I'm pretty sure you're all wet, aren't you?" He cooed in your ear. His rough fingers, applying pressure at the exact spot where your throbbing clit was, started to rub it in slow and circular motions. As much as you hated the thought of it, his skillful caresses lit a fire of desire within you, so much that you felt your own wetness soaking your panties, "How long since a man stretched that lonely pussy?"

"Don't touch me!" You growled, but as convincing as you had tried to sound convincing you still failed judging by how Alfie's brow arched. He let out a dark chuckle. Doing the exact opposite, his fingers kept fondling your sensitive bud but this time his wet and warm tongue licked your neck just like a predator would do to get a first taste of his freshly caught prey.

"Oh I'm not gonna touch you dove." The muffled sound of your cap falling on the concrete ground made you open your eyes again. You had barely lifted your eyelids when your gaze met Alfie's other hand, who was kneading his massive bulge. As afraid as you were, you could not help but let out a soft yet needy moan "I'm not gonna touch you. What I'm going to do cannot be described, no no it can't because I don't want God to hear it. What I can tell you though is that you'll never come back to Birmingham once you'll know the feeling of my cock buried deep inside you." His words' immediate effects upon you had your teased pussy clenching onto nothing and reminding you how desperately empty you were. An emptiness Tommy would never fill, "Are you thinking about him now?"

You weren't.

Alfie didn't need you to answer, for the way you brought your hips closer to his fingers and grind against them was enough. The mad baker's mouth sucked on the sensitive flesh of your neck, pinching it between his lips to leave a bright red mark on you, claiming his newly acquired property. All these sensations soon became unbearable: the friction of your shirt against your erected tits, the cold bite of the handcuffs on your wrists, and the increasingly faster rubbing of your clit destroyed what remained of your will of fighting. Never in your life you had been touched for you had always kept your virginity unspoiled for Thomas. A stupid and fruitless devotion.

You gave in to the pleasure and surprised yourself by thinking about how big Alfie's dick looked, unable to look anywhere else.

"Don't s-stop." You muttered under your breath, your climax building as Alfie kept assaulting your sweet bundle of nerves: he was nothing but gentle with it, almost hurting you with how rough he rubbed you. With your mouth parted and your breath quickening, you felt the delightful warmth of an orgasm coming but, all of sudden, Alfie stopped.

"Enough for today. We'll see if you deserve more tomorrow." He said.

If you have appreciated what you've just read please take the time to reblog and/or comment. Your reactions are the real fuel and motivation of writers.

tags: @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @mollybegger-blog @hwangrimi @munson24 @tommyshelbywhore @devotedlyshadowytheorist @stevie75 @brummiereader @triplethreat77 @sebastianstangirl01 1 @izzy10369 @kimvolturicullen @peakyltd

#Peaky blinders #Alfie solomons #Alfie solomons x reader #Tom Hardy smut #Peaky blinders x reader #Alfie solomons smut #Peaky blinders smut #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #Tom Hardy #Tom Hardy x reader #Peaky Kinktober #Tommy Shelby

[enkas-illusion]

Under The Mistletoe

Fandom / Pairing: Attack On Titan / Eren x f!reader

Rating: SFW / Fluff

Genre/Theme: Friends to lovers; non-titan au

Content warning: fluff, teasing, language.

Summary: A series of unfortunate events that lead up to a memorable Christmas Eve at the Jaegers’ house with your close friends.

Author's Note: Hello, here’s a short fluffy friend to lovers one-shot with my fav 2D man. Merry Christmas! Thank you for reading <3

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Mistletoe by Justin Bieber

“Yo, you home?” you speak into your phone’s speaker without waiting for a greeting from his end.

“Yes…?” Eren answers.

“Busy?”

“Nope.”

“K. Come to my place.”

“Cool,” he cuts the call. You place your phone on the sofa before moving the mess, that would soon transform into your Christmas decorations, out of the way. As you clear the floor of all the stray pieces and tiny ornaments, you place the tiny chair near the tall tree in your living room while waiting for your best friend’s arrival.

You hear the doorbell ring about 15 minutes later and rush to open it. You greet Eren with a wide grin as you move to the side to let him in. He takes off his shoes near the door as he enters the living room.

“So, what do you need me for, madam?” He asks as he takes off his mufflers and scarf, tossing them on the sofa.

“Ouch… do you think so little of me to assume I only call you over when I need something from you?” you fake gasp.

“If you have to ask, you already know the answer dummy,” he pinches your nose before walking to the undecorated tree, deciphering the reason you’d called him over. “For this? You’re far better than I am at this arts and crafts shit.”

“Well, I cannot reach the top even with the tallest chair I own… call it the perks of being the taller friend, I’ll always think of you for such things,” you smile at him before blowing him a dramatic kiss.

“Sure,” he rolls his eyes as you lean down to the tree to start with the bottom half of the decorations. Eren sits next to you, playing with one of the tiny red stockings he picks up, “A friend in need is a friend indeed.”

“A best friend who makes cinnamon rolls cause she knows how much you love them is a friend indeed,” you try to imitate his voice, resulting in a terrible imitation.

His ears perk up at your comment nonetheless, completely ignoring the teasing tone and only focusing on what really matters.

“Did you really?!” he asks, excited like a puppy when he hears someone say ‘treat’. 

“Yes… There's still about 10 minutes left though. It’s in the oven,” you say as you point to the tree, “So you should probably hurry up.” 

“What a meanie!” he huffs as he fiddles with the ornaments, decorating them on the tree. You laugh as you begin working on the other side at a quicker pace than he does.

A few moments pass by before you hear his voice again, “This tree is so unnecessarily tall… You know, mum said you could just come to our house to celebrate the holidays when I told her you couldn’t go home because of work.”

“That’s so sweet of her… but I still wanted my apartment to look like it’s the holiday season. If I can’t go home this year, the least I can do is recreate some of the warmth and Christmas feels here.”

“Awww, is that why you called me? Cause I’m the star that lights up your whole world?” he says as he holds the golden ornament over his head.

“Not sure about my world but definitely my Christmas tree,” you tease as you check the time. You get up to walk to the kitchen as Eren fixes the chair closer to the tree.

“Only tolerating your bullshit for the rolls by the way…” you hear him complain behind you. You put the oven mitt on as you pull out the batch of fresh cinnamon rolls. You carefully place the pan on the counter, evenly pouring the sugar syrup over the buns.

Your body jerks involuntarily when you hear a loud shriek from the living room. Your heartbeat picks up pace erratically as you run out the kitchen to see what had happened. You find Eren lying on the floor, his right hand holding his left forearm tightly. He writhes in pain when he tries to move his left wrist.

“Ren, what happened?” you panic as you run to his side as you help him stand up. He doesn’t need to explain however – you see the chair with a broken leg lying next to the tree.

“Ugh– Careful,” he hisses as you try to help him straighten his wrist.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea the chair would break… does it hurt a lot, I’m so so sorry Eren, if I knew I wouldn’t have asked–” your shaky voice breaks, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’d rather have me fall from a broken chair than you,” he gives you half a smile but it’s so sincere that it makes you want to cry even more.

“Let me get the first-aid kit,” you sniffle but before you can rush to get the kit, Eren rests his right hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“Get the car keys instead, I think I’m gonna need a little bit stronger than pain relief spray,” he says calmly. On the inside, he’s freaking out, but he doesn’t let it show since he did not want you to panic even further.

Your expressions distort to the point where it looks like you’re in more agony than the man who just fell from a chair. You nod frantically as you go to grab your keys before hurrying out the door to get him to a hospital.

~~~

“Sign it,” he says as he sees you walking into the hospital room where the nurse is fixing a cast around his forearm and wrist, “after all, the artist needs to sign their artwork.”

Eren shows little to no signs of discomfort and you wonder if he’s a psychopath or it’s simply the painkillers working. You open the water bottle before handing it to him as you give another apologetic look – the hundredth one in the last hour since the accident.

“I’m kidding! I’m all good!” He reassures you as he raises the arm up once the nurse is done fixing the cast.

“It’s better to rest for at least 6 weeks if you want to heal properly,” the nurse interjects plainly.

“That long? It’s just a hairline fracture right?” he asks her, confused.

“You still need proper rest Eren!” you scold him as you take his phone, the bag of medicines and water bottle in your hands, not wanting him to carry anything at all.

“I’m fine! This is nothing!” he chuckles, cupping your cheek with his free hand to reassure you. You bring your hand up to his, pulling it away before intertwining your fingers with his.

“Is that all?” you ask the nurse with concern and she nods. “Thank you,” you sigh as you lead Eren out the room.

“The bill?” he asks as you walk out the hallway.

“Paid it already,” you reply.

“I’ll pay you back later, yeah?”  he says as you get to the car.

“No, don’t. It’s my fault...�� you murmur timidly as you drop his hand to open the door for him.

“Hey… it’s not. I love how much you care about me but please don’t worry so much,” he speaks, holding your hand once again, squeezing it gently.

“But I feel so bad,” you pout as you move your fingers lightly over his cast with your other hand before looking up at him with sadness in your eyes.

He headbutts you playfully, causing you to finally laugh as he says softly, “Give me all the cinnamon rolls and we’ll call it even.”

~~~

Eren wasn’t kidding about the cinnamon rolls – especially now that he had the golden ticket to get you to make as many as he wanted. Usually, you’d only make it occasionally or if he was upset with you after some silly argument and you wanted to suggest a truce temporarily.

So when you arrive at his place in the afternoon, with a container that doesn’t have any cinnamon rolls, 3 days later on Christmas eve, he acts like a bratty child who had been denied his favourite treat.

“Eren! This soup’s better for you. I’m not gonna let you binge on another whole batch of cinnamon rolls!” you speak sternly. 

“I don’t recall asking for healthy shit. My mood’s craving cinnamon rolls!” Eren slaps his right hand on the table exaggeratedly.

“I cannot believe how childish you’re being. Where’s your mum? She’ll support me…” you shake your head.

“Carla’s out shopping for presents. I’m afraid you’re going to have to deal with him on your own,” you hear a voice and turn your head to look at Eren’s father entering the house.

The crease on your forehead that had formed while talking to Eren melts away when you greet his father, “Mr. Jaeger, good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon. Is my son bothering you too much?” he asks and you see Eren turn red out of embarrassment.

“Not at all,” you chuckle, “There’s no tantrum of his that I can’t handle.”

“Good. I assume you’re staying for dinner, yes?” Grisha asks politely.

“Yes. So are Mikasa and Armin, they might arrive anytime soon,” you reply, the polite smile fixed on your face. 

“Great!” He nods before turning to scold his son, “Eren, don’t trouble the poor girl.” 

Eren shakes his head before his father excuses himself to get to his room, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Poor girl? You’re so creepily formal with my parents. They think you’re the model child and I'm the one who corrupts you… even after all these years!” he snorts.

“Well… I am innocent,” you bat your eyelashes at him, “You’re the devil here.”

He rolls his eyes at you before leaning forward and opening his mouth, motioning you to feed him the soup.

“Your right hand’s fine! Drink it yourself.”

“This is the least you can do,” he says with puppy eyes, waving his cast up in front of your face.

“Ugh… fineee,” you take the spoon, blowing on the hot soup gently before feeding it to him.

When Armin and Mikasa arrive about an hour later, Eren goes into heavy, exaggerated details while telling the two about how he got the injury. 

“... And then this one cried like a baby… more than I did,” he jokes, pointing your way.

“I was actually crying that my favourite chair of all time broke,” you shoot back dryly.

“Lies, you guys know she’s in denial about how much she loves me, right…? Anyway, the doc said it’ll be another 3 months at least before I’m healed completely.”

“What a drama queen, you’ll be fine in a month’s time!” you narrow your eyes at him.

“You guys bicker like an old married couple,” Armin notes and Mikasa nods in agreement. You’re pretty sure he’s teasing you too but he doesn’t follow it up with a laugh as if it's a serious statement, making you blush awkwardly as you try to avoid Eren’s gaze actively. 

Despite Eren constantly teasing you throughout the night, it’s a peaceful celebration nonetheless. When Grisha and Carla retire to their bedroom after wishing your group ‘a jolly Christmas’ shortly after midnight strikes, the four of you gather around in the living room to exchange your secret santa gifts.

When you get a new set of oven mitts, a mini speaker and a perfume you’d been waiting to be restocked since forever with a note that read ‘Couldn’t decide which one was the best option so consider yourself lucky to get a genie like myself’, you jump up to give Eren a big hug while being careful not to bump into his wrist.

“Was it that obvious?’ he laughs.

“We never could’ve figured out the perfume one,” Mikasa giggles. Your eyes meet Eren’s and you feel your heart skip a beat as you eyes stray to his plump lips for a split second – brushing away the very inappropriate thought you just had about your best friend.

You quickly move away as you change the topic and get Mikasa and Armin to open their gifts. It’s obvious they got each other based on the gifts they'd received.

Eren is the last to open his mystery present. You feel nervous, suddenly second-guessing your entire decision. However, it dissolves just as soon as it arrives when you see Eren’s jaw drop at your gift.

“Holy shit! This might as well be the best gift I’ve received in a while,” his eyes gleam at the signed manga copy by his favourite mangaka Hajime Isayama. 

“It better be! Took a lot of eff–” you smack your hand over your mouth mid-sentence at spoiling your own identity as his secret santa.

He smiles softly, hugging you as he teases, “Thanks Sherlock, it would’ve been so hard to figure out who it was!”

“Oh wait a min–,” you look around the sofa to find the other package you’d gotten him. You leave his side to get the tiny gift, handing it to him with a playful grin. He raises an eyebrow at you as he unwraps it. He lets out a chuckle when he pulls out the tiny cinnamon roll crochet plushie and bursts out laughing when he reads your note with it – ‘This should last you a long time, stop asking me for another batch already!’ 

“Never,” he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in tighter as you stumble in place, feeling the vibrations of his torso caused by his laughter. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your ear before letting go, your skin tingling with warmth at the gesture.

“Oh! Before I forget… mum knitted sweaters for all of you guys,” Eren grins proudly. All three of you basically pounce on Eren excitedly when he returns with the sweaters in one hand.

He hands you yours the last and it's your favourite colour. “Told mum to use that specifically,” he confesses, half-whispering so that only you can hear him. 

You bite your lip and lower your head to keep yourself from smiling too hard. It's moments like these that have you feeling as if the platonic line in your friendship gets tangled with the romantic one.

Eren Jaeger could bully you to death, within his rights as your best friend, but then he'll randomly do something so sweet that it makes you awfully aware of the growing crush you have on him.

“Thank you,” you smile when you look up and your eyes meet. Eren believes that this smile could be the only thing to melt him if he were a block of ice. 

At that moment, he wants nothing more than to squeeze your stupid face and kiss you to his heart's content. He feels a pang in his chest – the intense desire of his crush on you fighting against the rational part of his brain not wanting to spoil your friendship.

When you suggest watching a random Christmas movie, everyone cuddles together on the sofa like birds do on a cold morning. You don't remember most of it since you fall asleep halfway through the first movie itself. Since you fell asleep with your head on Eren's lap, he didn't dare move till the morning – he gladly accepted his fate as your pillow. 

Maybe it was something in the air urging him to do something but when he saw the way you peacefully rested on him, he felt an intense need of wanting to protect and cherish you forever. Right there, he made his decision – he was going to confess his feelings to you. His love deserved a fair shot. Besides, he figured he'd simply call it a joke and move on if things didn't go his way.

~~~

Your slumber breaks when you hear soft whispers calling out your name. You feel the shuffling movement of your head being lifted up before being placed back down on a soft surface.

“Hmm?” You speak groggily as you sit up, rubbing your eyes as you sense Eren walking away. You check your phone and it’s just quarter to 5 in the morning. You're about to go back to sleep when you hear his voice again, along with footsteps pacing around from one end of the hallway to the other.

“Come here,” you hear Eren’s voice beckoning you from the passage leading up to his room. You want to go back to sleep but get up despite it when you remember he has a broken wrist and might need your help with something. You quietly tip-top to follow his voice, not wanting to wake up your other two friends who are splayed over the sofa, still deep asleep.

“Hey, what's up?” You speak softly when you look around in the dim light of his room to find him. You turn around when you hear the door close behind you.

“Merry Christmas,” Eren grins, standing just a foot away from you, holding a badly plucked green branch tied with a red ribbon over your heads with his free hand. 

“Merry Christmas– what's that?” you mumble as your eyes fix on his hand to observe it closely. It's a Mistletoe – your eyebrows furrow as you look down to his face, expecting an explanation to be written over it.

You feel your heartbeat picking up its pace against your chest. You know what this means yet you can’t believe it entirely. You don't want to make a fool out of yourself by assuming something only for it to be one of his stupid pranks.

You think he's about to headbutt you like he usually does, but he catches you by surprise when he simply rests his forehead against yours.

“You know what this means?” he breathes as he brings his hand down to hold the mistletoe in the space between your bodies. 

This is it! He's asking you to kiss him!!!

Still wanting to play it safe, despite his blatant hints, you nod your head as you speak, “This means I give you a bone-crushing hug.”

His eyes narrow at you as he pulls back, “No… what a chicken. Kiss me.”

Your heart flutters, yet you try to play it cool and tease him further, “What a baby.”

You wrap your hand around his neck to pull his face down to your level. He obliges and you place two fingers to his chin to turn his face to the side. You lean in to kiss him on his left cheek. 

He lets out a soft chuckle as he imitates you, kissing you on your left cheek in return. You giggle as you give him another peck on his right cheek next, resulting in him repeating you once again.

Then comes the forehead and you have to stand on your toes to do it. He leans down to kiss your forehead, you're pretty sure he was about to joke about it but he doesn’t break the intensity of the moment.

Your heart feels like it's almost about to burst out of your chest when you kiss the tip of his nose, followed by his chin, giggling nervously.

You close your eyes in anticipation, expecting the touch of his lips on the same spots on your face but it never arrives. Instead, your breathing halts abruptly when you feel his lips land on your lips.

You pull back quickly and open your eyes to scan his face for any signs of mischief. Instead you’re met with the softest expression, displaying nothing but a kind adoration for you. He brings your hand up to place it on his cheek, smiling at you, encouraging you to dare. 

Without wasting another second, you cup his face with both your hands as you pull him down for a kiss. He smiles into the kiss and you close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips moving against yours.

Your legs feel giddy and your thoughts feel intoxicated by Eren’s sweet caresses. His free hand is wrapped around your waist firmly and even as you kiss him, you’re cautious about his cast, trying not to accidentally touch his left arm.

You pull away from his touch hastily when you hear the doorknob twist. You both stand next to each other, staring at Armin with a half-perplexed and half-embarrassed look on your face.

“I can’t seem to fi– oh,” he stops when he looks at both of your faces, his half-lidded sleepy eyes suddenly alert. Armin has always been a smart guy – which right about now is making you and Eren look like two deers caught in headlights. 

Armin raises his eyebrows, the grin on his face growing wider. “Don’t forget to lock the door,” he mumbles as he simply turns back around before closing the door behind him, leaving you and Eren alone once again.

Eren’s quick to lock the door before turning around to lean against it, signalling you to come closer with the motion of his fingers. You roll your eyes but follow him regardless, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your face on his chest. 

Your hand moves to his pec, feeling around for his heartbeat before resting it there completely. You close your eyes and you soak into the warmth of his body as your best friend/lover places soft kisses on the top of your head. 

Your heart flutters again, filled with happiness to the brim, making you wish you could trap time in a bottle to seal this moment with you forever.

~fin~

#erensbirdie #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #aot x you #aot smut #aot #eren yeager #eren jaeger

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter ten: a hidden gem, my own goldmine

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 10k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), polite southern manners, feeling familial and self-pressure, ESTABLISHED relationship FINALLY, spanish cause joel is latino, fingering, unprotected p in v, dirty talkkk king joel miller, soft (and soft dom) joel, possessive joel, mentions of depression diagnosis and symptoms, struggling with self, discussion of co-parenting, angst, MAJOR doubt! and a slumber party! yay!

a/n: thank you as always to the bestie/cousin/sister wife/sweet, sweet gf @northernbluess for beta-reading this chapter, seriously i can't write without you so you're stuck with me. also this chapter is a little heavier in spanish then before, so if there are any corrections needed, please comment or message me! i went through multiple translations to try to find the best/most common, but things are bound to slip through the cracks.

Joel’s been catching up with some chores around the house this evening after Sarah’s gone to bed: dishes are washed and put away, counters wiped down and floors mopped. He reset the living room after he put the laundry in the dryer, settling onto the couch with a long sigh. Hands rub at his tired eyes, muscles aching for his bed but he is determined to stay up until you text him that you’re back at your friend’s house safe.

A few of your friends from college ended up with jobs in Austin, and tonight you’d all arranged to go out downtown. You had, sweetly, invited Joel to tag along but when you mentioned that the only other guys there would be boyfriends of your friends that were your age, he politely declined. Well, he used his daughter as an excuse because he didn’t want to admit that he was a little insecure about the age difference, even still.

It’s not even a large one, you’re twenty-five  and he’s thirty-three, but with a nearly ten year old kid and his own business, he’s willing to bet he’s in a much different place in life than your friends' significant others. And if there isn’t a lot of common ground, Joel knows he’s not the most social or conversational.

Resting his eyes, his head rolls back onto the couch while the TV drones on about the latest Astros game. A short buzz from his phone in his pocket peels his eyes open, yawning quietly as he fishes the device out and flips it open.

FROM: Mariposa

Cn u pcik me up pLs????

While deciphering your drunk text, another couple are delivered and he keys down to see them as he chuckles at the antics. 

I miiss u

Eveynoe is w their BFs n I wnt mine 

Plesaseeeeeee J

Before he can type a response to you, an incoming call blocks out his screen, his thumb hitting the accept button quickly and bringing the phone to his ear.

“Feelin’ alright, Mari?”

A hiccup on the other line makes him laugh quietly again, your voice coming in over the music and people in the background, “No, not alright. M’sad.”

“Why’re you sad, sweet girl?”

“Cause you’re not here. Every—everybody’s…No I didn’t want a vodka water, gross! I wanna vodka soooooda with lime…Oops, sorry J. What was I saying?” A giggle from your end pulls a smile on his face, only slightly worried at your level of intoxication.

“You were telling me why you’re sad.”

“Right! M’sad cause all my friends have got their boy—” One hiccup. “Boyfriends here. And you’re aaaallllll the way at home.” Another hiccup. “I wanna be home with you.”

“I see. Well, I don’t want you to be sad, darlin’, so m’gonna come pick you up. How’s that sound?”

He hears a gasp into the phone and your voice gets quieter, imagining you holding the phone or turning your head away to a nearby friend.

“He’s coming! Jus’ to pick me up though, we gotta get back for Sar—Sarah…Yeah, she’s so cute…Well, yeah duh, he’s a DILF…I mean, to me I guess he’d be a DIAF…‘Dad I Am Fucking’…Oh, shit!” There’s a rustling as he laughs to himself overhearing your conversation, a smug smile on his face from you bragging to your friends. “M’sorry, J, god I totally forgot I was on the phone!” You punctuate your sentence with an incredulous laugh before quieting down to hear Joel.

“That’s alright, Mari. M’gonna drop Sarah with Tommy and then come and get you, okay? Can you tell me where you are?” Joel is already standing from the couch, grabbing his keys from the entryway before making his way upstairs to get Sarah into the car.

“Ummm…One sec!” The line rustles again while he stands at the top of the stairs. “Okay, we’re at that place on 11th, Nickel City.”

“Yeah, I know where that is, sweetheart. Be there soon, okay?”

“Okay. Tha—” One last hiccup. “—nks, J.”

“Anytime, amor. Anytime.”

With Sarah dropped off at Tommy’s, Joel goes into town to pick you up. It takes another twenty minutes from Tommy’s place, finding a parking spot not too far from the bar. He slips in the door and starts to comb his eyes over the crowd, most people stepping out of his way from his intimidating frame while he weaves through the masses.

Spotting you off to the side at a high-top table, some friends he recognizes from your photos dotted around the surface as well. You’re wrapped up in a conversation with the person next to you while you sit on a stool, Joel’s eyes finally landing on the person you’re talking to. It’s another man, about his height, maybe a few inches shorter. He’s got light hair, a clean-cut look with some fancy shirt on. Clearly, the guy is flirting with you, standing closer and leaning an arm around the back of your chair. Knowing how drunk you sounded over the phone, it occurs to him that you likely don’t even realize this guy’s body language, a primal possessiveness taking over his judgment. 

He’s waited years for you. There’s no way in hell he isn’t putting on a show for this guy to send him a message.

Joel rolls his shoulders back, chest raising with the corrective posture. He saunters over to the table, politely smiling and waving as your friends must recognize him and welcome him to the group. He walks right up to the other side of your chair, placing a hand on your lower back and brushing against the skin exposed by the tank top you’re wearing.

A small gasp exhales from you with the surprise contact, turning your head and beaming when you see him. The look makes the wings of his butterfly flap faster, beating in time with his heartbeat.

“You’re here! M’so happy to see you.” He matches your smile before he is crushed in a hug, your arms around his neck. Unraveling from each other, you turn back toward the other man, before one of your other friends comes over to tell you something, pulling you away but still within arm’s length for Joel to keep his hand on you.

Joel reaches his hand out toward the man,  “Nice to meet you…”

“Colton.”

“Nice to meet you, Colton. Are you one of the college friends?”

Colton gives a weak handshake to Joel, shaking his head with a laugh, “No, actually, never met any of ‘em until tonight. Well, except Taylor. M’relatively new to town, met Taylor through work, so you know how it is. Trying to make some connections.”

Joel has to hold back his eye roll, annoyance clear on his face at the skirting around that this Colton is doing. Joel’s heard it before from Tommy — going up to a girl and using the ‘new in town’ line to get a conversation started and to hopefully get them to leave with you to ‘show you around’.

Mine. You’re mine, he repeats to himself, the jealousy pumping in his veins.

“So’re you one of the college friends? Or an Austin friend?” Colton makes polite conversation while you turn in Joel’s arm and wrap your own around his back. Tugging on his t-shirt the fingers of one of your hands slip under the material and skim across his skin. Joel clears his throat, chuckling dryly as he keeps his gaze on Colton.

“Uh, not quite. M’the boyfriend.” His head nods to his side to you, a tight, smug smile on his face as he watches the gears in Colton’s head turn.

It’s not happening for him tonight. Or ever.

“Oh shit! You must be Joel! We’ve been waiting for you. I’ve just been making sure she’s had some water and didn’t wander off before you got here. She’s been talkin’ about you all night, made me think about how many times I’ve drunkenly ranted about my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, Taylor’s my girlfriend — she’s the one with blonde hair right across the table.” Colton beams down the way as Taylor makes eye contact with him, waving to the woman as she smiles back at him.

The man is a golden retriever. And Joel thought he was some douchebag trying to hook up with his girlfriend. Joel opens his mouth to apologize for his cold behavior, but before he can your head pops up from his chest, grabbing his attention. Hands at his back scratch your nails against his skin, humming contently as you press a sloppy kiss to his jaw.

Colton considers his duties relieved and goes to find his girlfriend before Joel can thank him, leaving the two of you at the end of the table. Joel pulls his chin in to look down at you, smiling softly and moving a hand to the back of your neck.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, jus’ happy you’re here. Missed you.”

Joe presses a kiss to your forehead and you hum again, swaying sleepily in his arms. “M’glad you called me, Mariposa.”

“Can we go home now please?”

“Yeah, Mari, ‘course we can. You want me to bring you to your house?” His hands move to your sides, running up and down against the fabric of your tank top. You hook your arms around his neck and shake your head, a tiny “humpf” accompanying it.

“No, home.”

“My house?”

“Yes! Home. Wanna sleep in your bed, s’comfier than mine.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I can bring you home.”

A warm stirring is felt in his chest, steadying you in your stance and keeping an arm around your waist. You say goodbye to your friends, all of them waving to you both as Joel steers you through the bar and to his truck outside.

Joel calls Tommy on the way home, his brother telling him that Sarah’s out cold and he can bring her back in the morning when she wakes up. He presses for an answer about why Joel had to drop Sarah off, but Joel ignores Tommy’s question again and hangs up.

Safely back at his house, he helps you out of the truck and inside, walking behind you on the stairs as you stumble. It’s like a baby deer learning to walk — he’s never seen you this drunk, tipsy, sure, but never at this level. A smile crosses his face as he imagines a moment like this in the future with you, maybe after a night out for the two of you or maybe even after your wedding.

Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, tripping over your feet at the landing and recovering on your own. His hand hovers at your back, ready to break your fall if it happens.

“I’m alright, m’alright. Jus’ tripped a lil’.”

To be safe, Joel holds your hips the rest of the way up and into his room, sitting you on the edge of the mattress and gathering a t-shirt from his drawers for you to wear to bed.

“No, I want the funny one that I like,” you whine, waving a hand back at his dresser. Joel shakes his head to himself, chuckling about the fact that you still have a preference for sleep attire.

He grabs the shirt you’re talking about, a worn and washed one that he got as a joke from Tommy a few years ago. He normally wears it to sleep himself, if he wears one, or around the house if he knows he won’t be going out. It’s faded black now, yellow text that reads ‘I do know it all…I just can’t remember it all at once.’

Upon finding it in his drawer last week, you laughed hysterically and made him put it on for a Polaroid. You’ve also requested it every time you’ve stayed over since. 

In front of you again, with the correct shirt, he kneels down and pats the outside of your thighs. “Can you stand for me, sweetheart?”

Using his shoulders as support, you stand on sea legs, swaying back and forth as he looks up at you. “Can I take off your skirt, darlin’?”

“Yeah, you can, cutie.” You giggle and sway wider, playing with the curls at the top of his head, turning his head to your will as he unbuttons and unzips your denim skirt. “You got some grays mixed in here, mister.”

“M’getting old, Mari. No surprises there.” He chuckles and helps you lift each foot to step out of the tube of material completely, rubbing a hand on your calf before he stands in front of you again. He’s faced with a pout, brows knit together in anger.

“You’re not getting old. You’re literally in your thirties. Not old.”

“Say that to the gray hairs then, sweetheart.”

“Gray hairs—“ Hiccup. “Mean nothing ‘sides the fact that you’re gonna be a silver fox. My silver fox.”

A content smile, closed lips, pulls the corners of your mouth up. Heavy eyelids cover your irises halfway, the sight of you so drunkenly drowsy is utterly adorable to him. Fingers grip the bottom of your tank top, kissing your forehead.

“Can I take off your shirt?”

“Take it all off, bay-beeee.” Your swaying causes you to stumble again, Joel catching you before you fall back onto the bed. Once you’re steady, your own hands slip under his shirt, running over his tummy while you press sloppy kisses into his neck. “Mm, want you so bad, J.”

“I love you, darlin’, and you know I want you all the time, but not tonight. You need to get some water and go to sleep. For a while.” A defeated sigh blows against his skin, rocking back on your heels and Joel holding your weight to bring you to stand straight again. “Arms up, baby.”

You comply without another ask, lifting your arms as if they’re heavy weights, allowing Joel to tug the material over your head. With a slight slap sound, your arms drop back against your sides. Joel takes off your bra for you and gets you into his t-shirt, giving you a small kiss. He walks you to your side of the bed, tucking you in.

“Be right back, sweet girl. Gonna get you some water and then you can go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay.” You sigh, nesting into the sheets and duvet. Your eyes close, soft hums filling the room as he runs downstairs, filling a glass of water and grabbing ibuprofen to leave at your bedside for the morning.

Returning to his room, he coaxed you to sit up, having you drink half the glass. He changes for bed himself, stripping down to his boxers and slipping under the covers, pulling you closer with an arm around your waist.

“G’night, Mari.”

“Mm, night, J. Thanks for coming to get me and bringing me home. Like sleeping next to you lots more than a sleepover with my friends…”

“Like sleeping next to you too, Mari. Missed you all night. M’glad you’re home now.”

“Nightie night.”

“Nightie night, sweet girl. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” He pinches your side playfully, breathing a laugh out of his nose at your yelp and squeezing you closer. With a kiss to the top of your head, he lulls you to sleep with his fingertips running up and down your spine, thoughts going right back to those flash images of a future with you.

“Love you, Mariposa.”

There’s an ache all over your body, eyes too sore and crusted over with sleep to peel open when you first wake up. Light peeks through the curtains, shining onto the bed and directly at your face, making you groan into the pillow and attempt to roll over.

Unfortunately, your body is telling you to get up, find water or pain meds or some coffee, you really wouldn’t be all too picky at this moment. Rolling over onto your back, you reach out to your side and feel bedding underneath your hand, pouting to yourself when you finally open your eyes and see Joel’s gone. As you sit up, you can hear the shower turn on in the bathroom attached to his bedroom and you can hear some quiet humming from the other side of the door. A smile crosses your face, the idea of a shower nestling itself in your mind and feeling like it would be the only thing to get rid of all of this hangover.

On the nightstand next to you, there are two burgundy-colored tablets and a half glass of water, vaguely remembering last night when Joel made you drink the other half before going to sleep. Washing down the ibuprofen with the entirety of the water, you start to recount what you can recall from the night before, cringing internally when you get to the point that Joel showed up to pick you up. You don’t really remember getting home, but looking down at the t-shirt you’re wearing clues you in that Joel must have done most of the work to get you into bed.

Slipping out from under the duvet, you set the empty glass back down and slink over to the bathroom, twisting the knob and opening the door. The squeak of the hinges breaks your sneaking attempt and Joel’s humming stops.

He speaks up over the sound of the water, “Mariposa? That you?”

“I sure hope no one else would be sneaking into the bathroom this morning. Unless you have another drunk girlfriend you had to pick up from the bar,” you laugh at the self-deprecating joke, picking up your toothbrush and squeezing out a dollop of toothpaste to clean your teeth. And to get rid of the taste of tequila lingering on your tongue.

The shower curtain slides back a bit and Joel’s head sticks out, goofy grin on his face with curls hanging on his forehead. “Nah, just got the one. How’re feeling this morning?”

“Like I got beat up by a bunch of vodka sodas and a couple of tequila shots.” Your words are muffled around the foamy toothpaste, leaning back against the counter facing him.

“Yeah, you were pretty drunk, darlin’. But it was honestly cute, you’re a funny drunk.”

Turning back toward the sink, you fold over the sink to spit out and rinse your mouth out, groaning softly, “God, please tell me I didn’t do or say anything embarrassing.”

“Nothin’ too bad, but there were some things that I will be committing to memory,” Joel laughs and winks, the noise getting louder as you groan again and roll your head back.

“This is the worst part about getting drunk. People holding stupid shit you said over your head.” Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you look at Joel across the few feet separating you and watch him shake his head and grin sweetly.

“I’ll tell you what you said, sweetheart, but I think you’re in too physically fragile of a state right now.”

“God, you are right about that,” you sigh and shake your head, propping yourself off the counter you were leaning on, crossing the tiles to be only a foot from Joel’s face, “Can I join you? A shower sounds like exactly what I need right now.”

He nods quickly, halfway through the question and you chuckle at the antics, pulling the t-shirt over your head and slipping off your panties to leave both in a heap with Joel’s clothes. He opens the curtain for you and steps back toward the other wall while you close the curtain and drag yourself under the stream of water.

A sigh relaxes your chest and shoulders, closing your eyes as you let the warm water run all over you. Joel’s hands brush across your skin, the feeling of his work-worn palms sending a tingle of excitement down your skin and chilling your body even under the hot water. His thumbs cup under your breasts while the rest of his fingers splay out on your ribcage, tips of them toward your back as he holds you closer to him.

“Mm, you’re so beautiful, d’you know that, mi Mariposa? La mujer más hermosa del mundo (The most beautiful woman in the world),” Joel mumbles against your skin when he nestles into the crook of your neck, curving his back to fit with you perfectly. His hands wander from your ribs, circling around your back and drifting down to the swell of your ass where they settle with a gentle squeeze.

“I think I’m getting better at Spanish 'cause I understood that. And it was very sweet, thank you, J. I think you’re the most beautiful man in the world.” You giggle and feel Joel exhale a chuckle against your neck, peppering slow and spaced kisses along your shoulder.

“You also told me something else about what you think of me last night. Well, it was to one of your friends but you were still on the phone with me so I heard,” he stretches to full height again with a smug smirk, squeezing your ass again as you sigh.

“Oh god, what did I say to you? Did I feed your massive ego?” you tease, bringing your hands up to his shoulders and lightly scratching your nails against his skin.

“I learned that I am a DILF last night. Or according to you, I am a DIAF to you. Dad I Am Fucking.” He can barely get the last sentence out around his loud laugh, your embarrassed reaction of wide eyes and jaw dropped egging him on more.

“Stop, I cannot believe I said that. And that you heard! You’re never going to let me live that down.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart. Not a chance,” Joel can’t wipe the giggly smile off of his face as he continues, “Oh, and you also were definitely really into me getting you into pajamas last night. I asked if I could take off your shirt and you said ‘Take it all off bay-beeee’. Which was very tempting.”

“Oh my god, if you don’t stop telling me all of this right now, I won’t take anything off for you again.” It’s a thinly veiled threat, both of you know it holds zero weight.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop.”

“Thank you,” you breathe out as you turn toward the shelf in the shower, reaching for the body wash before Joel intercepts your hand, holding it in his and lowering it to your side. He presses his chest to your back, the contact also nudging his hard cock into the flesh of your ass.

“Y’know, I woke up this morning after you were all over me last night with a fucking hard on. Aching for you. And then you come in here and ask to join me in the shower, made it come right back…” he leans down, kissing your shoulder, up your neck and to your ear, “D’you still want me, Mariposa? Hm?”

One of his hands drifts to your inner thighs, coaxing your legs apart and swiping two fingers from your entrance to your clit. Your arousal coats his fingers, a quiet whimper leaving your lips in an exhale, eyes closing and head rolling back against his shoulder.

“You still want me, mi dulzura? Feels like you do,” his lips are against your ear, voice low and gravelly, and he slowly circles your clit as you continue to whimper and writhe in his arms, “Sounds like you do, too, mi amor. Y’know, we have the whole house to ourselves, Mariposa. I want you to be loud for me while I touch you. Understand?”

Lost in the sparks of pleasure slowly building, your words get caught in your throat as one of your arms reaches up to wrap around to the nape of his neck. At the lack of response to his question, Joel pinches your clit before pulling his hand away.

“No, no, no, please. I understand. I’ll be loud for you, J. Please touch me…”

You grip the curls at the back of his head, biting your lip and opening your eyes again to look at Joel’s head at your side. His hand comes back, his thumb rubbing your clit while his middle finger sinks into you until the first knuckle. He keeps his eyes on your face, slowly working the finger in and out of your cunt, never giving it to you fully.

“Fuck, don’t tease me, Joel. Please, pretty please, gimme more.”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest, his nose nudging at your cheek to turn your head straight toward the tiled wall, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw.

“You want more, Mariposa?”

“Pleasepleaseplease.”

“Mm, and are you going to be good? Give me all your pretty sounds that I love?” Joel pushes his entire middle finger into you now, holding it there, “If I give you what you want, you gotta be loud for me, pretty girl.”

“I will, I promise.” You wiggle your hips to get any more friction building, grumbling in frustration when Joel’s other arm tugs your hips back against him, strapping you to him like a seatbelt. The thumb against your clit leaves, and as you’re about to complain again, Joel adds another finger and starts to thrust them in and out frenetically, the heel of his palm rubbing the sensitive bud at the front of your folds.

A sinful moan rolls from your gut, bouncing off of the walls of the shower and drowning out the sound of the water for a few seconds. You can feel Joel’s satisfied smirk against your skin, his mouth dipping to the crook of your neck to suck at your pulse point and leave his mark. His hand continues its rapid pace, your legs bending as they start to give out the closer you reach to the edge. To attempt to hold your weight, you lean your arms against the tiles, feeling yourself being held up by Joel’s arm tightened across your hips.

“Fuck, Joel, feels so fucking good. Oh!” Your voice pitches up when his fingers graze that spot inside your walls, the sound catching in your throat. Joel pushes deeper with his fingers, hooking them to find that same spot and petting against it with small strokes of his fingers. The sounds coming from you are uncontrollable, head falling back against his shoulder as a mess of his name, lustful whimpers and whines, and wanton moans echo in the steaming shower.

“That’s it, pretty girl, I can feel how close you are. Nearly squeezing my fingers out of ya.” Joel’s small groan vibrates against your shoulder, his hard-on being pressed into your back and leaking pre-cum. You can feel yourself clench around his fingers, the edges of your vision blurring as you near your peak. “Gonna come for me, Mari? Gonna be a good girl and come all over my hand so you can be ready for my cock?”

His words are the final push, pleasure oozing around his fingers and dripping down your folds, warmth spreading in your body as your nerve endings tingle. You can hear yourself moaning his name, small encouragements spoken in your ear as Joel continues to fuck his fingers into you throughout your orgasm. When you’re fully present in your body again, Joel slips his fingers out of you slowly, turning your head and kissing you deeply.

“Need you so fucking bad, Mariposa,” he says against your lips, kissing you fervently before speaking again, “Wanna bend you over and make you take my cock, and you’ll tell me how good it feels filling you up. You want it, pretty girl?”

“Need it, J. Please, I need you so bad.” You kiss him this time, pressing your hips back and grinding against his cock, the rumble of a mouth muffled into your mouth as your tongues meld together. Joel pulls away and grips your hips, turning both of you so his back is facing the stream of water.

“Hands against the wall, amor, arch your back for me—” You follow his instructions with one of his large hands skimming along your spine, folded to an angle at your hips. “That’s it, baby. So good for me.”

Joel takes his cock in his hands, teasing his tip at your entrance and earning a whine from you. A dark laugh is heard faintly from behind you, an equally quiet sigh of relief when he gives you just the tip.

“Mm, fuck, Mari. Estás tan apretado, y húmedo, y cálido. Nunca me voy a cansar de este coño. (You’re so tight, and wet, and warm. I’m never going to get tired of this pussy.)” 

Before you can formulate any sort of response, despite not fully knowing what he said, Joel gives you a few more inches of his cock, stuttering out a moan from you before his hips set a rough, desperate pace. Grunts and groans, moans and whimpers fill the bathroom, your names exchanged back and forth as he fucks you from behind. His hands hold tightly onto your hips, digging in to surely form bruises to match the hickey at your collar, and to keep you from being rammed into the wall with how hard his thrusts are.

“More, fuck, gimme all of it, J. Want you to fill me up, make it hard to fucking walk straight.”

There’s a vibrating rumble that resonates in your own chest, Joel completely pulling out on the downstroke and heaving his chest up and down with shallow breaths.

“Fucking dirty girl. Mi chica sucia. Filthy, baby.” He runs his fingers down the line of your spine, still arched for him. You feel him lined up at your entrance again, whimpering for him and pressing your hips back to try to get him inside. Joel chuckles, shaking his head, “Mm, can’t get enough of my cock, can you, sweetheart? Greedy little thing.”

Your jaw drops open with a toe-curling moan, Joel’s hips thrusting his throbbing cock into your waiting cunt to fill you completely, the same rough and hard pace set as he makes you knock forward and brace against the wall with every movement.

“Take it, darlin’. Oh, fuck, aguantarla. Puedes aguantarla, mi dulzura. (Oh, fuck, take it. You can take it, my sweetness.)” Joel’s head rolls back with another guttural moan, tilting forward to watch his cock disappearing into your dripping hole. “Fuck, such a pretty pussy. And it’s all fucking mine, isn’t that right, Mariposa?”

“Y-Yes! Fuck yeah, it’s all yours, J. No one could ever fuck me like you,” you glance over your shoulder and he makes eye contact, a wide, knowing smile on his face. Your cunt clenches around his cock, his brutal pace hurtling you toward the edge. Just as you’re about to ask for that little bit more, he reads your mind and slips one of his hands around your front, errantly rubbing circles in your clit.

“Can feel you around me, Mari, know you’re close. You gonna let me fill you up with my come? Gonna milk my cock with your tight pussy?”

All you can do is nod, eyes shutting tightly as moans squeak out of you. One hand reaches back to grip his wrist as he keeps you right there at the edge.

“Say it, baby. Say it back to me and I’ll let you come. Give you just what you need.”

A deep breath brings enough air into your lungs to rasp out, “Please fill me up, Joel. Wanna milk your cock of everything you can give me, want you to be dripping out of me all day. Remind me of how only you can have my pussy.”

“Fuck yeah, that’s right, sweetheart. Such a good girl.” Joel eyes that you have a hand bracing you still, letting go of your hip as he fucks you, rubbing your clit continuously. He reaches his free hand around to your mouth, prodding his thumb at your lips and humming when you take it into your mouth and suck. After a minute, he pops out his saliva covered digit and brings it back to your body, pushing into the tight ring of muscle facing him. The sensation of stimulation at all three places barrels you to your high, pussy gripping his cock as everything tenses and pleasure rocks your body and clears your mind.

With the tightness felt in both holes around him, Joel takes one, two, three more thirsts before he’s spilling into you, ropes of come coating your walls and lazy jerks of his hips fucking it deeper into you.

After a moment, Joel pulls out of you slowly, gathering all that dribbles out of you and pushing it back inside with his fingers, causing a shudder down your spine.

The two of you come down from your peaks, the water running cold now. Still needing to clean yourselves, Joel washes your body while you shampoo and condition his hair as he folds over to gently exfoliate your legs. The tasks get swapped, Joel washing your hair while you wash his body.

Stepping out, he grabs a towel for you, wrapping it around you tightly and giving you a sweet, chaste kiss. He gets another towel for himself, both of you drying off and heading back into his bedroom to get dressed again.

You sit on the edge of his bed in your clothes from last night, one of his shirts pulled over your tank top and tucked into your skirt. As you comb your fingers over your wet hair, you look at Joel as he pulls on a pair of jeans standing next to his closet.

“Hey, I have a question for you, actually.”

“Shoot, darlin’.”

“Am I remembering correctly that last night when you came to the bar, you were acting a little jealous toward Colton? Did you think he was flirting with me or something and you got all possessive?” you giggle quietly.

Joel blushes and shakes his head with an overexaggerated eye roll. “Pffft, no. Don’t remember it happening like that, probably a bit clouded in your memory.”

Laughing more, you stand up and cross over to him, hands splayed on his soft tummy and head tilted away from him.

“Oh, sure. Sure, J, we’ll go with that if it makes you feel better.” Reaching up you give his cheek a gentle pat and wink at him, giggling faintly before he gathers you up in his arms and gives you a kiss.

“Good, 'cause it does make me feel better. ‘Sides can you blame me for getting a little jealous? We’ve waited like three years to get this right with each other, m’not letting it go.”

“Me neither, which is why you don’t ever have to be jealous cause it’s only you, baby.” You send him a wink and a grin, giving him a kiss before you both hear the front door open, Tommy’s voice echoing upstairs as he calls out for Joel. He looks down at you, biting his lip.

“I didn’t think he’d be bringing Sarah home this early. Uh, d’you mind that he’s here or should I jus’ say…” he trails off awkwardly, waiting for your thoughts on how to broach the fact that you’re over here, in Joel’s shirt and clearly have stayed the night with your wet hair from the shower.

“If you’re fine with him knowing, we can tell him. That is if Sarah hasn’t spilled the beans already.” Joel laughs faintly and nods, running his hands up and down your arms.

“That is highly possible. But guess we’ll have to find out when we head downstairs. And I’m apologizing now for any stupid shit my brother says.”

“You act like I don’t know Tommy already.”

“You don’t know Tommy as my girlfriend. He’s going to give you some shit, and he’s going to give a lot to me for keeping it from him.”

“Think I can survive Tommy Miller. Now, c’mon, get a shirt on, and let’s go. I need some coffee.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Joel descendsed the stairs ahead of you, rounding the corner into the kitchen and greeting his brother as Tommy pours himself a cup of coffee. Sarah is already at the table, cereal bowl in front her as she eats and reads her book. Joel grabs two mugs from the cabinet, earning a confused look from Tommy before you walk into the room, the confusion melting into mischief. His brother nudges at Joel’s arm and winks.

“Ah, así que esta es la razón de su aventura nocturna en la ciudad. Puedo ver por qué estabas tan desesperada por mi ayuda. (Oh, so this is the reason for your late-night adventure into the city. I can see why you were so desperate for my help.)”

Joel’s eyes roll into the back of his head, “Cállate, Tommy. Necesitaba que la llevaran a casa, así que le di una. (Shut up, Tommy. She needed a ride home, so I gave her one.)”

“Claro, claro. Un paseo. (Sure, sure. A ride.)”

“Pendejo de mierda (Fucking dumbass).”

“¿Qué? No estoy diciendo que haya algo malo en ello. Estoy feliz de ver a su hijo si significa que usted consigue algunos. Finalmente. (What? I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it. I am happy to watch your child if it means you getting some. Finally.)” He laughs when Joel glares at him, Tommy crossing over to the table and covering Sarah’s ears. “Además, ella está jodidamente caliente. No sé lo que ve en un viejo como tú. (Plus, she’s fucking hot. Don’t know what she sees in an old man like you.)”

“Yo tampoco. Y deja de hablar de ella así. (I don’t either. And stop talking about her like that.)” Joel’s voice grits out the last sentence, his short fuse being tested with Tommy’s teasing this morning.

“No, realmente, ella es casi diez años más joven y podría conseguir a quien quisiera, pero ¿eres tú? Mejor empieza a apostar por los caballos, hermano. (No, really, she’s almost ten years younger and could get anybody she wanted, but it’s you? Better start betting on the horses, brother.)” His younger brother comes back to stand next to him, picking up his mug and taking a sip.

“Déjalo. (Quit it.)” Joel sends him another glare, grabbing the milk out of the fridge to add some to your cup.

“Maldita sea, tal vez tengo que contratar a una niñera para Sarah cuando está en mi casa. O tal vez la contrate yo mismo. (Damn, maybe I gotta hire a nanny for Sarah when she’s at my house. Or maybe I’ll hire her myself.)”

When Joel looks back at Tommy, he sees him eyeing you as you talk to Sarah at the table, smacking him upside the back of his head.

“Tommy, si no te callas la mierda ahora mismo, lo juro por Dios. (Tommy, if you don’t shut the fuck right now, I swear to god.)”

“Qué? Ella tu novia ahora? (What? She your girlfriend now?)” The young Miller questions, raising an eyebrow.

“Sí, lo es. Así que deja de hablar de lo caliente que es mi novia. (Yeah, she is. So stop talking about how hot my girlfriend is.)” Joel states matter-of-factly, shutting the fridge after returning the jug of milk.

“I understood some of that actually,” you say with a proud smile on your face, one of eager mischief on Tommy’s across the room.

Joel whips his head to you, wide eyes, “What did you understand?”

“You called him an asshole. Something about Sarah. The word girlfriend was thrown in there.”

Joel sighs quietly in relief, picking up your prepared mug of coffee.

“Oh, and something about you being old. And that your brother thinks I’m hot. ” Tommy sputters on his drink as he starts to laugh loudly, a deep blush warming Joel’s cheeks. You walk over to him and take the mug out of his hand, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Cause you’re not old and Tommy just wishes he wasn’t single at thirty years old.”

Joel laughs and Tommy waves your comment off, rolling his eyes before winking at you, “Oh please, you wish you found me before this old man.”

“Sure, Tommy. You can think that all you want, but I met you both on the same day.” Joel barks out a laugh, a smug grin on his face from you holding your own toward Tommy.

Joel looks at his brother, a smile growing on Tommy’s face, “Well, maybe you needed to get your eyes checked that day, Posey. Cause you’d have to be blind to not pick me over the decrepit ass.”

“Y’know, I’m happy to set you up with one of my friends. She likes the type of cute guys who think they’re funny.”

“I know I’m funny, Posey, so not sure if it’s gonna work out. But yes, I would like to be set up with this friend of yours, please…” You laugh and nod, sipping your coffee before answering.

“I’ll work some magic for ya, Tommy.”

“I like this one, Joel, better keep her around so she can be my wingman.”

“You say ‘this one’ as if there have been others,” Joel rolls his eyes and continues, “And I certainly don’t need your advice on that front Tommy. She’s got me as long as she wants me, but please dear god, you should not be his wingwoman. Don’t subject yourself to that torture, Mari.”

The three of you chat to catch up, Tommy genuinely asking about your time in Boston and telling you how glad he is that you’re back around to make his people happy again. The comment swells your heart before your attention is pulled to Sarah as she asks about having a sleepover with you.

“I would love to throw a sleepover with you, sweet pea. I’ll bring over all the goodies to your house and we can stay in your room and watch movies and paint our nails and do all the fun girly things.”

“Yes! And Daddy and Uncle Tommy aren’t allowed ‘cause no boys.” She points at the two of them, both of them frowning and sighing.

“Can I at least be at home, mija?” Joel jokes, and the three of you laugh as Sarah seriously considers her answer.

“Yeah, that’s fine, but you gotta leave us to do the sleepover things ourselves.”

“Deal, Bug. I can do that.”

“Oh yes! It’s all decided then, we’ll have a sleepover when your week at camp is over.” You clap your hands together and grin, already planning everything you need to do this week to prepare for it.

“Damn, Mari, you brought a lot of stuff for one night with Sarah.” Joel eyes you from head to toe, a duffle on your arm, and shopping bags in your hands. He takes the plastic bags from you, holding the back door open for you before following you over to the island to set down all of your purchases. “You do know it’s only Sarah, right, darlin’? None of her friends are coming. This is a practice run for a sleepover.”

“I know, but I wanted to make the first girly sleepover she has at her house fun. I loved having my friends stay over when I was younger, and I dunno, you’re a boy so you don’t get it.” Rustling around in the bags, you start to pull out snacks and candy, along with fun new nail polishes and nail stickers, new hair clips, some young-girl-friendly makeup, and new pajamas for Sarah and you.

“Sweetheart, this is all really nice, but let me give you some money for it all. This is a ton of stuff.” Joel glances at the counter covered in supplies, and before you can answer he’s walking to the front door to get his wallet from the entryway table.

You call out after him, “I’m not going to take it so don’t bother trying! It wasn’t even that much anyway.”

Popping back around the corner into the kitchen, cash in hand, he shakes his head with a mocking laugh, “You’re funny. Even if it was five dollars, I’m giving you ten. Now please take the cash.”

Joel stops in front of you, hand out with a hundred in his hand. A dry laugh leaves your chest, pushing his hand away as you continue to sort through everything from the shops, “Not happening. This was way less than a hundred dollars too, so definitely not accepting that. Go put it back in your wallet, Miller.”

“You’re so goddam stubborn sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah, and you’re not?”

“Hey, I didn’t say that. I know I’m stubborn, that’s why this argument is happening. And why I am about to do this.” Joel steps behind you, slipping the bill into the back pocket of your shorts. You groan, fishing it out and shoving it back in his hand, pushing at his chest.

Joel rebuttals with another attempt, stepping toward you but you step back, backing around to the other side of the counter as he follows closely. You hold your arms out to keep space between the two of you, not being able to hold back a laugh as you start to pick up the pace in your cyclical chase.

“Joel! I’m not taking your damn money, leave it!”

“Mariposa, please, we both know I am way more stubborn than you and m’not gonna stop unless you take it.”

Shaking your head, you turn around to actually move into a speedwalk-jog kind of walk around the kitchen, serpentining your steps.

“Darlin’, I can still catch you if you walk like that.”

“Well, I’d like to see you try.”

Joel takes that statement as a challenge, suddenly catching up with you and wrapping his arms to your front, slipping the bill in the waistband of your shorts before letting you go, putting his hands up in the air.

Wordlessly, you snatch the money from your bottoms, throw it on the counter, and go back to the pile of purchases on the counter. After all of that, you start to unload the drinks in the fridge and open the pantry to throw the sweets and other snacks on one of the shelves. Joel stands and watches you, eyes going back and forth between following your movements to all of the things lying out, including the money.

A feeling kicks up in your chest, tightening your insides with a wring. Small moments send you back to feelings like these, unsupported by actual occurrences but your brain doesn’t care about what actually happens; it prefers the what-ifs. What if this doesn’t last, what if you’re too young, what if you’re too anxious, too broken, too much and it all comes crumbling from under you before you fully realize it? What if this is one of those moments you look back on as a sign? It’s taut and consuming, begging you to say something about it to release the corkscrew.

“If this is too much or if I’m overstepping a — I don’t know — a parental boundary 'cause she’s not my kid, and I know that, of course, but I wanted to do this for Sarah. M’not the nanny that you have to reimburse anymore, I just thought it would be fun to make it like how my sleepovers used to be as a kid…”

Joel’s brows stitch together with what looks like confusion or concern, rounding the kitchen island and standing next to you. A hand on your hip closest to him presses into the flesh there, turning you toward him as the other hand reaches up to tilt your chin to him. Your eyes avoid his, embarrassment heating your body with licks of flames.

“Can you look at me? Please?” His voice is unwavering but shy, boyish. You answer with a flick of up, meeting his own stare. “Mari, sweetheart, this isn’t about anything like that. I know you aren’t ‘the nanny’ anymore, and if I’m being honest, I don’t think you were ever just ‘the nanny’ to either of us. I was being pigheaded, and I didn’t want you to take on doin’ all of this yourself. It’s jus’ automatic for me to want to cover for Sarah, with any sort of activity. Not that I don’t want you to do all of this. I can’t even begin to explain how much it means to me that you care so much for Sarah. I’m just, I’m being her dad. And not giving you the means to do things for her yourself. M’sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, J. I should have better explained myself from the beginning. I want to be a part of your lives, I want to….I don’t know, I don’t want to take the place of her mom, obviously, but I want to be someone she can do girly things with if we’re gonna be together for a while—”

“Not if, Mari. I don’t plan on letting you go without a serious fight,” Joel’s thumb brushes against your cheek as he holds your gaze, “I am so grateful and so relieved that Sarah has someone like you in her life. ‘Specially right now with everything around her mom leavin’, you’re exactly what she needs. What we both need…I will take the money back. But next time we’re splitting it, and every time after that ‘til it’s time that it’s coming outta a joint account.”

When Sarah arrives home from her playdate, Joel retreats upstairs after ordering pizza for the two of you (and him, because he claimed he was gonna sneak down) to watch something on the small tv in his bedroom. You and Sarah changed into your new pajamas and got all of the snacks moved into the living room, trekking blankets and pillows and stuffed animals from her room and around the house to build a nest on the floor in front of the couch.

Sarah had chosen The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants out of the stack of movies you had rented, popping it in and sitting back with you while you had her pick out a color for her nails. The two of you talked about camp and the past school year, her confessing a crush she has on a boy in her camp group this year. There’s only a few details you get from her as you paint her nails, giggling with her when she gets shy and telling her about your first crush.

Sarah eventually is the one to paint your nails, turning out a bit messy and abstract during the process but nonetheless it was fun. As she’s finishing up a second coat on the last nail of yours, the doorbell rings for the pizza and Joel jogs downstairs a minute later to answer the door. Carrying the boxes over to the kitchen after he paid and tipped, he grins at you and nods to the set up.

“Is that every pillow in our house?”

“Well, no, you still have the ones on your bed cause you were sitting on ‘em,” you reply as you walk into the kitchen behind Sarah, fingers splayed apart, careful not to smudge. The younger Miller does the same, looking up at Joel when she stands next to the pizza box.

“Daddy, can you get the slices for me? I don’t want to mess up my nails that Posey painted for me. Look at them! They’re so pretty!” She raises her arms up to give Joel a look, his hand taking one of hers and inspecting it.

“Gosh, Bug, these are just gorgeous. Mari did a great job,” he grins at you, giving you a wink at the same time an idea pops into yours.

“I could do your nails, J. They could match Sarah’s!” Your suggestion is immediately supported by his daughter, her small stature jumping up and down in front of him.

“Yes, yes! You need to get your nails painted, Daddy!”

“Wasn’t this sleepover ‘no boys allowed’?” he arches a brow before he grabs a piece of pizza, plopping it on a plate for Sarah to take into the other room, “If I can stay for longer than it takes to paint my nails and hang out and eat your snacks, you can absolutely paint my nails.”

Sarah takes her plate from her dad, grinning ear-to-ear as she retreats back to the blanket nest. Joel makes a plate for you, carrying it out with his own and setting them on the coffee table. With a groan, he lowers himself to the ground, leaning his back against the couch and holding out his hands to you.

“Go for it, sweetheart.”

“D’you want the same thing as Sarah or something different?”

“Hmm, what d’you think, mija? Should we match?”

“I think you should give Daddy the color I gave you, Posey. It’s so pretty!” she leans back against you, using you as a backrest while she eats her pizza carefully with her wet nails, engrossed in the movie.

“Alright, guess it’s decided then. We’ll be matching,” you smile at him, taking one hand in yours to pull it closer, relaxing it against your thigh as you open the polish bottle. Concentrating on the tasks at hand, Joel wiggles his fingers when you aren’t in the midst of painting to get your attention, holding up a piece of pizza near your face.

“Eat, darlin’. Gotta fuel your artistic brain,” he winks and smiles sweetly at you, earning a quiet laugh before you lean in and take a bite chewing as you go back to painting. You switch hands after a few more bites, giving him a break to eat his own pizza and you yours while the three of you watch the movie. Once your job is done, you close the bottle tight and set it on the table, getting Sarah’s attention to look at it.

“How’d I do, Sare-Bear? Does your dad look pretty?” Her giggles pull some from all of you, nodding and clapping her hands together.

“Daddy, you need some of my pretty stickers and then Posey needs to take a picture with her camera.” Sarah stands and moves over to the pile of beauty supplies, grabbing the pack of nail stickers you bought and picking out a sheet. She sits next to Joel, stickering around his face as he closes his eyes and lets it all happen.

“Is this what happens all the time at girl sleepovers?” He peeks an eye open at you, getting a wide smile and shrug.

“Guess we’ll have to have some more for you to really find out.” Sarah steps back from her handiwork, and you pick up the Polaroid camera, lining up the shot from the side of Joel where there’s multiple star stickers clustered around his eyes. The shutter snaps when he looks at you, spitting out the image. You hand it to Sarah to watch it develop, showing you both quickly before going to hang it on the fridge along with a few other of your shots. You snap another of him looking at you directly, soft rounded eyes filled with affection.

Once you set the camera down, holding onto that photo for yourself, his hands find your thighs, running over the soft cotton of your PJ pants.

“Thank you for doin’ this for her, she hasn’t been this happy and giggly since before you left last summer.” Joel leans in, giving you a gentle, lingering kiss. “I love you. So, so much, Mari.”

Instead of answering, you give him another kiss before Sarah walks back in, settling between the two of you on the floor nest, cuddling up within your little unit of three to finish out the movie.

A few nights after your slumber party, you sneak over to Joel’s again before bed, using the key to the back door that he had made for you. He’s sitting on the couch, a line of sight to the door and a sleepy smile tugging at his lips when he sees you.

Padding your feet across the floors, you climb onto the couch next to him and curl your legs under you while you lean into his side. His arm wraps you up and his lips press against your forehead with a content sigh.

“Hi, Mari.”

“Hey, J.”

“How was your day, darlin’?” he asks as he turns off the TV, fingers ghosting up and down your bicep.

“Good, it was good. Babysat for the O’Connors today with the little baby. She’s so adorable, just a day full of baby giggles.” You grin and Joel smiles back at you, nodding along, “And then after that I drove to therapy and had that for an hour and then went home and waited to come see you.”

“M’very glad you’re here. Can’t sleep without you anymore,” he kisses your temple, “How was therapy, amor?”

“Today was a little hard. Talked more about maybe looking into medicine cause I feel like it isn’t fully there yet. But I do feel like I am happy. Like in my heart. My brain just can't keep up. Still have a lack of interest in things and not a lot of energy like I used to.”

Joel hums an acknowledgment, looking down at you on his shoulder, “M’here if you need to talk about anything, sweet girl.”

“I know. Thank you,” you give him a chaste kiss, smiling drowsily, “How was your day?”

“Pretty alright. Had to go fill in for someone who called in sick today at a job site so I’m exhausted from all the lifting and using machinery. But the framing is all done which means there’s something that looks like a house standing on the lot,” Joel chuckles softly and glances out the front window, “And then, uh, ran into your mom when I got home. She must’ve been running out for something but she stopped to talk and invited me and Sarah and Tommy to celebrate the Fourth with y’all.”

You sit up, grinning excitedly, “Really? Oh my gosh, that will be so fun. Our first official holiday together. Even though it’s just the Fourth of July. Kind of lame.”

Joel chuckles along with you, nodding his head and avoiding your eyes, “I mean, I told her yes ‘cause I didn’t think you’d mind. But the more I got to thinkin’, I guess, I just—I think I need some more time before we tell your parents about us.”

Your face falls before you can hide it, Joel’s hand immediately reaching to cup your cheek delicately, “M’sorry, sweet girl. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to do it at a family event and maybe it might be best if we can sit them down sometime to talk about it all.”

A slow nod keeps you quiet, in your thoughts, rambling out an agreement as you bring your eyes to Joel’s again, “Yeah, yeah, I understand. I agree. Would be best to wait a little while longer.”

“Thank you, darlin’. M’so glad you agree. We’ll find the right time, eventually,” Joel gives you a tender kiss, lingering against your lips for a few more dopey exchanges. He pulls away, standing up and gathering you up with him, leading you to his bedroom and getting into bed with you, “Night, Mariposa. Love you.”

“Night, J,” you reply meekly, the small sound of your voice easily brushed off as fatigue. Joel keeps you close, spooning you with his front against your chest, falling asleep behind you quickly. You can’t rest, especially after that short and decided conversation.

Why did you agree so easily? And why was he even asking for more time? His daughter knows, his brother knows, your friends know. What’s any different about your family? Is he afraid that if he breaks your heart he’ll have to move? But why would he even think about that possibility when all he’s told you is how much he loves you, how he’ll be yours until you want nothing to do with him anymore?

Every reassurance that he’s given you is flooding your mind, those doubts and fears worming their way into the sweet memories and poisoning them with twisted words.

Every time he’s said he loves you, does he mean it? Or is he only saying it to say it, to placate your anxieties about the future of you two by committing in a way?

Is this push back about telling your family a response to you not being ready to say ‘I love you’ back? Is he getting fed up with waiting for it?

Are you too much too quickly? Weaving yourself too tightly into his life and his daughter’s life? Is he going to start to drift, to put off telling your parents until he can end it?

These thoughts cycle in an endless loop, keeping you up while Joel sleeps soundly beside you. Nausea stirs in your stomach, rapid heart beating from the spiraling of your mind keeping you wide awake until the early hours of the morning.

The only way you can manage to fall asleep is turning in Joel’s arms, cuddling into his chest and breathing in his scent to halt the carousel of negativity in your brain long enough for his even breaths to lull you to sleep.

One last question flashes to you before you’re finally asleep:

 What happens when Summer ends?

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @sw33tp1xie @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @beee-haw @jenna-mcgraw19 @whore-4-pedro @katifefe @joelmillerswifu @itsgiorgiaz @soph55 @wild-hearts-runfree @youcancallmeelle @jupitre @starkovli @thatgeminigirlx @livingdeadmaria @bunnyskisses @houseofballoonsth @casual-obsessions @pedro-pascal-lvr @bimbodolls-world @burningnerdchild @tuquoquebrute @mrsvedder12 @estelivi28 @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @angie2274 @pedrostories @pedroholicx @theelishad @johnwatsn @elissaaa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain @northernbluess @cannolighost

#joel #writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller series #tlou fanfic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic

[wallydrling]

in the dark

pairing: wally darling/reader

rating: g

author’s note: this is posted on ao3 as well (and looks better over there, too!) gender neutral reader to the best of my ability as usual!

You’re not sure why this is happening.

You can’t pinpoint what set you off; it could’ve been an array of things. The game of Truth or Dare that got just a little bit too serious, Julie gradually shoving you closer and closer to Wally as the night progressed. Perhaps it was Frank and Eddie’s heady eyes on the two of you, feelings etched in the lines of their faces that you couldn’t decipher. Maybe it was Poppy’s home-baked cookies that were a tiny bit too sweet, sticky in the back of your throat, or Barnaby’s musings, his comment of, “Life in Home will never be normal, but I think we all like it that way, right pals?” You’d felt a headache forming behind your eyes, and then you’d really thought about it–life in Home. Life before it.

You couldn’t remember anything. The harder you tried to wrack your brain, the worse the pain got. Nobody was taking anything seriously, giggling and sharing stories and swapping crayons as the night went on. Sleepover at Julie’s; no one able to leave until the following morning. Nighttime wasn’t safe–you knew that. You just didn’t know why. 

So, the headache progressed. And then the pain in your chest started up, heart racing. Your hands began to shake, and your breathing pittered off into strained gasps, and now here you are, holed up in Julie’s bathroom. You lean against the door, handle locked, and ignore the tap of soft knuckles against the wood. You’d just…got up and ran. You felt the residents’ eyes on you as you moved, nearly tripping over legs and the coffee table as you went. It’s Julie on the other side of the door, you can tell by the way she knocks. You don’t want to see her right now. 

“Neighbor?” She calls out, voice flower-petal soft. “Did we say something that upset you?”

“No,” you reply, hand pressed to your chest. You’re not sure that’s true, and you don’t like the idea of lying to any of the residents, but you’re truly just trying to focus on breathing at the moment. “I don’t know. Julie–something isn’t right.”

“I’m going to get Wally,” she states. 

“No!” You exclaim, quick. If you said any of this to him, he’d misunderstand. He’d think you want to leave Home, and you don’t. You just want to know how you got here, and where you were before. Carefully, you unlock the bathroom door and crack it open. Grabbing Julie by the wrist, you tug her into the room with you, and shut the door behind her. “How did you end up in Home, Julie?”

She hums at your question, and moves to perch on the edge of the bathtub. “I lived in the forest surrounding Home. I felt so cooped up there, with no friends to play with. I wanted a life of my own, so I moved here.”

“How come you remember?” You ask, exasperated. “I don’t remember how I got here. And when I try to think about it, it hurts. It just–it feels wrong.”

Julie, for perhaps the first time since you’ve known her, looks totally serious. There isn’t even a hint of a smile on her face, and her brows furrow as she mulls over what you’ve said. She reaches out to take your hand, gently patting the top of it. 

“Well,” she begins. “What do you remember?”

“I woke up,” you explain. “Here, in Home, right on my front porch. Boxes of my things were just sitting outside. It was raining, and in my mind I knew that I was supposed to move my stuff inside, but I didn’t know how I knew that. I didn’t even know how I got to Home. I was just there, and then Wally was helping me carry boxes in, and I never questioned it after that.” 

She smacks her lips together. “Maybe you shouldn’t start now, then.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You didn’t question it back then,” she says. “What’s the point of trying to figure out the details now? Does it really matter? It’s not going to mean anything in the end because you’re not leaving.”

“But what if I want to leave?” You rush out. “Not–not permanently. But what if I had a family before this, or other friends? What if I want to see them again?”

She tilts her head, an uneasy smile on her face. “Neighbor, I’d nip that train of thought off at the bud.”

You sigh, desperate for a real answer; something of substance. “Julie-”

“I really can’t talk about this with you anymore,” she cuts you off, dropping your hand as she stands. “I’m going to get Wally.”

“I don’t want to talk about this with him,” you tell her. “Please, he wouldn’t understand. He’d get upset. He’d think that I want to leave, and I don’t, but-”

“If you don’t want to leave,” she looks up at you, mouth in a straight line with her arms ramrod straight by her sides, “then why do you keep talking about it?”

She exits the bathroom before you have the chance to say anything further. You groan, burying your face in your hands. Great, you’ve upset her. You didn’t even know she was capable of being upset. Was it really so wrong to question your place here in Home? Did the others know something they weren’t telling you, or were they just as in the dark about all of this?

The dark. Nighttime. Your eyes go wide, and your head pops up. Going outside in the evening is forbidden. Perhaps Home after dark has the answers you need. If you could just sneak out of Julie’s house, you might be able to do some digging around and get some closure. There’s got to be a reason why the rule exists–don’t go outside once the sun has gone down. What is being hidden under the guise of night?

When you tug open the bathroom door to try and creep out, Wally is standing there, still as a statue. His eyes are blank, a big smile on his face as he looks at you. So much for sneaking out through Julie’s bedroom window, then. You’ll have to be more creative with your escape plan. He looks at you for a long moment, silent, and you feel like he’s scolding you despite the fact that he looks just as happy as he does on any given day. 

“Julie told me that you’re not feeling well,” he says. His voice is low, and he speaks a little slowly. “Do you want to go lie down?”

“Oh, no. That’s alright,” you try and paste on a smile, but you’re not sure it looks very genuine. You can’t draw attention to yourself right now. Julie is already on high alert, and now Wally is, too. “Let’s just head back into the living room. I want to finish up that puzzle we were working on.”

Wally cocks his head and stares at you. You’ve no idea what he’s thinking, have never been able to read him the way that the others can. But his smile twitches down at the corners just a little bit, just so, and your stomach sinks. When he reaches out to take hold of your hand, he doesn’t twine your fingers together. 

The living room is as rowdy as it had been when you left. The other residents don’t so much as bat an eye at your return, and you take your place between Wally and Barnaby. The puzzle you’d been working on as a group is nearly finished, probably mostly in part to Frank, and you jump back into it with enough faux-fervor to hopefully ease Wally’s concern. He keeps his left palm pressed to your thigh as you work on the puzzle; something he’s never done before. His fingers are soft as usual, but his grip is tighter than you’d expect from him. It’s like he’s trying to keep you close, on his own version of a leash. So, Julie must’ve told him that you were interested in leaving. Seems he’d taken that exactly how you expected him to. 

If you want to see what kind of answers nighttime in Home has to offer, you’ve got to play your cards right. You help the group finish the puzzle, and then participate in Barnaby’s version of karaoke. It’s mostly just Eddie making noises with his mouth off-beat, and Barnaby and Poppy singing loud enough to scare the owls outside. Wally, lover of music as you’ve come to know him, doesn’t even try to join in. While it’s true that he doesn’t know many songs, he at the very least usually attempts to keep up with Barnaby’s screeching, and mostly just copies what he sings. You’ve grown fond of his semi-robotic, leisurely tone, and you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve begged him to sing Beautiful Dreamer for you. 

Now, as you hum along to Poppy and Barnaby’s duet, Wally is deadly silent beside you. His hold on your thigh never falters, and after a couple of songs, you chance a glance over at him to see that he is already looking at you, smile wiped clean from his face. 

For the first time in the almost two years that you’ve known him, his presence does not comfort you. It makes you uneasy. 

Animalistic instinct urges you to remove yourself from the situation. To run. Howdy has started up a game of charades, and Julie is whining about how using his extra arms is cheating. Poppy and Frank are shouting out all the wrong guesses, and Eddie is laughing so hard he’s nearly doubled over, his head on Frank’s shoulder. Wally is still staring at you. Barnaby rests his back against the couch, the entire thing shifting under his weight. You try and pay attention to whatever Howdy is attempting to act out, but Wally is still, still staring at you, gaze so intense you feel as though it is half a second away from burning a hole in the side of your head. 

Almost as if you’ve lost control of your body, you stand up quickly. The other residents grow silent, their eyes trained on you like they’re waiting for you to speak. To explain why you’ve stood up in the middle of a game, fear evident on your face. You do a quick sweep of the room. Everyone’s smiles have faded, sans Eddie, who seems more confused than anything else. Wally is looking up at you from his place on the floor. 

You take a step towards the front door. 

“I just remembered that I left my oven on,” you say, forcing out a too-breathy chuckle. “I need to run home and check on that real quick.”

No one says anything. No one even blinks, the air in the room stock-still and muggy as you put one foot in front of the other, and take another step towards the door. If you’re quick about it, you might be able to lurch it open before someone stops you. You’re closer to it than the rest of them are, and you don’t think they’d hurt you. You don’t think they would. 

You lunge for the door, hand wrapped tight around the knob. You go to jerk it open just as two fists come down on it hard, keeping it shut. Howdy. You hadn’t even seen him move, but he’d gotten over here fast. He is so much taller than you that you have to crane your neck up to look at him. You’ve never seen his eyes as empty as they are now, void of any emotion. He doesn’t so much as move, two hands centered near the top of the door to hold it closed. 

“Neighbor,” Poppy says from behind you. “You know we don’t go outside at night.”

But I need to, you don’t tell her. You’re half a second away from pleading, from falling to your knees and begging for an explanation. I need answers. I need to get away from all of you. This isn’t right, this isn’t normal, I’m afraid-

You’d recognize Wally’s touch anywhere. His hand rests on your shoulder, thumb smoothing along the fabric of your pajama top. 

When he speaks, his voice is cooler than you’ve ever heard it before. You’re used to the almost mechanical pattern of his words, but this is something different. He sounds faraway, not quite present. “I think it’s getting late. Sleep must’ve muddled your brain, neighbor.”

“Wally dear,” Julie cuts in. “Why don’t you escort them to the guest room?”

Where there are no windows, she doesn’t say. Where there is no way out.

You’re helpless to do anything but let Wally grab you by the hand and tug you along. The guest room is pitch black and smells of flowers when you enter. Wally flicks on the bedside lamp, and lets go of your hand long enough to pull the covers down on the bed. He fluffs the pillows, and gestures to the mattress. 

“Settle in,” he says as he slides beneath the blankets, back propped up against the headboard. “I’ll stay with you while you sleep.”

Any other time, that notion would be sweet. You’d smile, your heart doing flips in your chest. You know that Wally doesn’t sleep, but he’s always been so kind about accommodating your need for it. This is not the first time he’s let you sleep through the night while he rests by your side, but it feels entirely different now. You shuffle towards the bed, and bundle up beneath the comforter. You can’t meet his eyes; don’t want to see the way he is looking at you right now. 

You shouldn’t be scared of him. You’re–you’re not, you tell yourself. He is your closest friend, and you love him. You’ve held his hand, and you’ve cuddled with him, and you’ve kissed him. He likes it when you read poetry to him, and he lets you play with his hair despite the fact that he is so meticulous about how he looks. He has taken you on dates, and has learned what romance means just by experimenting with you. He adores you, and you adore him, and it is easy to be with him. It has always been easy. You’re not sure what to do now that it is suddenly the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. 

“I’m sorry that you’re not feeling well tonight,” he murmurs, soft and low, nearly a whisper. He reaches out to smooth his hand through your hair, fingertips pressing into your scalp. “I hate seeing you so upset.”

You turn to lie on your back and stare up at the ceiling. This entire situation is so confusing, and you can’t seem to wrap your head around any tendrils of truth. Do the other residents here really not have answers to your questions? Are they keeping you inside merely to protect you, or are they harboring a dark secret? Why is Wally’s touch soothing you just as much as it is scaring you? Why the hell are you caught between wanting to move away, and wanting to wiggle closer?

“I love you,” he says, and he sounds as genuine as he always has. Nothing more, nothing less. “You’ll forget about all of this come morning.”

Deep down in the tiny, hidden chambers of your heart, you hope he’s right. 

His hand stills in your hair, and you think, perhaps just as stupidly as it is brave, “I know him. I know who he is, and I love him.” 

Careful so as not to burst the thin bubble that has formed around the two of you, you slide over on the bed, and rest your head in his lap. This is almost always the other way around, you sitting up while Wally lies his head across your thighs. He freezes like he’s not sure what to do in this position; like he needs time to think about it. To consider all of the ways in which it could go wrong. 

Then, feather-light, his thumb strokes along the shell of your ear as he begins to sing:

“Beautiful Dreamer, wake unto me. Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee.”

Sleep does not come easy, but despite the misplaced terror and the curiosity gnawing at your bones, it manages to find you, anyway. And Wally is with you all the while. 

#welcome home #wally darling #wally darling x reader #wally darling x you #wally darling x y/n #wally darling fanfic