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morehotch · 8 months

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each time you fall in love

how your boyfriend turned into your husband and how the two of you started and grew a family

spencer reid x reader, parent au, dad!spencer x mom!reader, time jumps (parts w/ pregnant reader), 2.5k

Your thing with Spencer is really good, sometimes it just feels too good and too right. Everything feels like it’s fallen so effortlessly and perfectly in place. You definitely don’t want to jinx anything, but after eight months of officially dating- and two years of mutual pinning through work, Spencer has been absolutely everything you wanted and needed in a guy.

It’s easy to talk to him, to laugh; to tell him anything. Spencer wants to get to know you, to understand and help you. When you talk, he listens with his eyes never leaving yours and a soft smile always dancing on his lips. And during moments like these, when you're lying in bed, limbs tangled together, his large palm over your waist, and when you pet his bed head and he smiles sleepily- you never, ever want Spencer to leave.

Spencer watches you now with a dazed, blissed look of total comfort. One you love so much on him, one he deserves so much. He smells like your clean sheets and his usual wood and sea salt cologne as his warm fingers trace different patterns against your shoulder.

You both have been slowly convincing each other to get up eventually and tackle your Sunday plans of grocery shopping and putting together Spencer's new book shelf he ordered after he outgrew his other one. But it’s been over an hour of falling back asleep and slowly blinking awake and neither of you has made much progress yet.

“Do you ever think about having kids?” Spencer asks suddenly, making you twist in his arms to look at his sweet face and dazed eyes.

“Yeah,” you whisper, watching how intensely curious he looks. “Sometimes."

You subconsciously match his small smile, thoughts of an incredibly wholesome future together making your heart unfairly twist in excitement and want. “I think about it all the time with you,” you continue and Spencer grins instantly. You've seen how delicately and kindly Spencer interacts with children, how naturally warm and gentle he is. You wouldn't admit it, but even before you were dating, you had a few fleeting thoughts about Spencer as a father.

“Really?” He asks and you smile, hand running down his bicep, “Of course.”

Spencer is quiet for a while before he speaks again. "And, you think- you think I'd be a good dad, right?”

Your eyes soften as you roll over to kiss him. “Absolutely.”

Spencer just looks at you like you said something entirely captivating and consuming.

“What?” You smile, pressing your lips against his jaw gently, "I'm just telling you the truth."

“I just want it so badly, I don’t know.” Spencer bends his arms to rest them behind his head. He watches you, totally suddenly peaceful and content. “I want so much with you.”

2 years later

You wake up to the muffled sound of Spencer's voice, momentarily wondering if he’s on the phone but you smile to yourself when you listen closely and hear his softer and higher tone- his baby voice. You excitedly make your way to your kitchen, leaning against the doorframe and appreciating the scene in front of you. Spencer is carefully holding your daughter, Nora, with both arms, walking around the kitchen, while simultaneously trying to make eggs.

He has messy bed hair- similar to yours, a now permanent fashion statement in the Reid household, and stubble dotted along his jaw. You listen to his soft whispers and your heart swells as your baby’s small fingers cling onto his white undershirt and her chubby hand grasps at his arm, softly patting over his chest.

Spencer has his back to you so you stay unnoticed, enjoying the serene beauty of your husband and daughter together. Nora is already almost eight months old and time felt like it was flying by- even if the sleepless nights felt incredibly long. Now, even if time alone and a longer than five-minute shower felt like a luxury, you couldn’t and don’t want to remember a time without Nora.

You absolutely love watching Spencer with her, you love watching the way he so gracefully and perfectly assumed the role of being a father, especially after the late night conversations you had when you were pregnant when Spencer tearfully admitted his fears of his ability to be a good father when he lacked one as a child. But between Spencer's reading of basically every pregnancy book on the market and the way Nora kicked immediately at the sound of Spencer's voice, it was quickly obvious he had nothing to worry about.

You love how attentive he is and how much he dotes on her and takes care of you at the same time. How he diligently learned how to cook- and make fresh, healthy baby food, how he reads a ridiculous amount of baby books to Nora daily, and how he insisted on making sure you get at least minimum of a few hours of sleep a night.

You watch him bounce Nora gently, leaning against the doorframe and you smile silently until your daughter spots you from behind his shoulder. She reaches out and giggles with a tiny grin and Spencer turns around, mirroring her smile, which looks enduringly similar to his own.

“Need help?” You ask as Spencer laughs. “There’s probably a more effective way to make breakfast but I didn't want to put her down.”

Nora stretches her arms out towards you and you reach over to gently grab her from his hold. "Coffee?” He asks, knowing your answer.

“Yes please,” you smile down at Nora, her soft hairs and long lashes. She leans her head against your chest, already comfortable in your arms. You watch Spencer stand on his tiptoes to grab a coffee mug and you press a kiss to the crown of Nora's head.

What a nice morning.

“Come take a picture!” Spencer says and your daughter giggles and toddles over to you, hurrying as fast as her tiny legs can carry her, bound in a large winter coat, mittens, and ear muffs. A tiny chubby arm extends out to you- a wordless ask for stability and help. You smile as she struggles to wrap her small arms around your shoulders, tiny hands grasping your jacket. Her full pink cheek smushes against yours as Spencer positions the picture, grinning behind the camera, “Your first snow this year, baby!”

Spencer had retired from the BAU and started teaching full time only a year and half after Nora was born, determined to be there for his daughter and that meant so many more family moments like these. Mornings like these when you wake up beside your husband and you're both there to see one of Nora's firsts.

“Snow!” She says loudly, head straining up towards the sky with fascination. She had just started talking and loved impressing everyone with her linguistic skills, taking her limited vocabulary very seriously as she already loved to talk and communicate with the two of you. Spencer loved entertaining her- and himself, by sitting her in his lap and reading her favorite books, the ones she had memorized, together.

“Smile!” He says excitedly, grinning behind the large camera.

Nora listens, with grin that has always looked exactly like her father’s. Your arm finds its way to the small of her back, holding her securely as Spencer takes the picture.

“Perfect,” he mutters, more to himself, watching his family in front of him.

“What’s the surprise?” Nora cries, toying with the hem of her shirt. Her anxious gaze darts back and forth between you and Spencer, upset that you both know something she doesn’t.

At three years old, Nora hates feeling like she’s being excluded from something. The hardest part of her routine is now attempting to convince her that it's bedtime and neither of you would dare have fun without her while she's sleeping.

Spencer hands her a small transparent piece of film and your daughter plays with it gently, turning it around in her palm. “What does this mean?” She questions, not able to stay still and scooting towards you with wide, curious eyes.

Spencer holds her close to his body, wrapping an arm around her as she gives him her full attention. “It means in a couple of months you’re going to be an older sister.” Nora blinks with her mouth open, she has friends in preschool who were younger siblings or already had younger brothers or sisters. Spencer's cousin recently had twins and Nora was completely fascinated by how tiny they were and that there were two babies.

You knew Spencer always wanted Nora to have at least one other sibling and the timing had finally felt right for the first time since she was born a few years ago.

“Really?” Her voice grows louder in pure excitement, looking at you in awe before her eyebrows furrow, confused. “Why not right now?” She pouts, immediately turning to her father for an explanation.

Spencer laughs loudly with an endeared smile that is always reserved solely for Nora. “That’s not how it works, angel." He pulls her into his lap, noting that patience is still hard a hard virtue for a three-year-old.

You’re tucking Nora into bed a few nights later when she brings up the baby again.

“There’s a baby in there?” Nora asks, pointing to your stomach where a small but noticeable bump began to show. After Spencer's scientific but three- year old friendly explanation, Nora has been fascinated with her younger sibling, always asking you and Spencer about babies. It had even made Spencer briefly tear up one night, hit with the realization Nora wasn't a baby anymore. Even though you quickly reminded him she still was only three.

“Yes, sweetheart,” you laugh as she smiles widely. “Wow,” her big eyes fill with excitement and curiosity. She reaches out and lays a small, warm hand on your stomach, “Hi baby.”

You smile at your daughter, already knowing what a great sister she'll be. She grips the comforter tightly as she moves to your side to cuddle you closer. “Love you,” she mumbles, eyes tightly shut, trying to lull herself into sleep.

“I love you too,” you say quietly and you eventually think she’s successfully asleep, tucked tightly next to you until she whispers cutely, “I love you baby.” You feel a small tap on your stomach and she snuggles closer, satisfied and closes her eyes for a peaceful sleep.

“Look!” Your daughter calls as she thrusts a picture towards Spencer, a pink and purple fingerprinted flower. He takes her in his arms, “For me?” Spencer grins, looking at her art. Spencer loves her artwork and his office at the university is filled with her masterpieces.

Nora's arms find his shoulders. “No,” she giggles, “for Mommy!” She finishes, still laughing at Spencer's reaction.

Spencer pretends to look hurt, pouting, “Well, can I have one too?” he asks. Nora thinks about it for a few moments, face twisting in thought, “Okay!” The little girl decides and Spencer's smile grows instantly, “Thank you, baby.”

She frowns, chiding her father with a grin, “I’m not baby.”

“You’re not?” Spencer asks surprised and she nods approvingly. “Yes, the baby is in mommy right now,” she explains, looking at him to confirm he understands.

“Ahhh,” Spencer nods knowingly, smiling tugging on his lips, “I see. You’re right. You're so smart, my big girl.” Nora hides her smile, leaning against Spencer's shoulder and tucking her face into his chest.

“You’re still my baby though, right?“ He whisper as Nora buries her face further into his shirt, giggling out a sweet, “Yes."

Nemo has been the chosen movie for your weekly movie night- for the fourth time in a row, because Spencer can never find it in him to say no to Nora and she is somehow still incredibly invested in Nemo's storyline. But now, as the end credits of Nemo play, Nora sits in Spencer's lap, letting him braid her hair. You’re laying next to them, a blanket draped over you as Spencer watches you sleep peacefully, getting your well deserved and needed rest.

Nora sighs against Spencer's chest as he pats her shoulder. "Let’s go to bed, angel.”

She lets her father hoist her up and carry her into her room, the one right down the hall from yours, with pink walls and a newly upgraded twin bed.

“Daddy,” she whispers suddenly, clutching her favorite teddy bear like she's nervous. “Will you still love me even if I’m not a baby anymore?”

Spencer blinks and brushes back stray hairs from her face with a soft smile, trying to ignore the way his heart breaks inside his chest. “Of course honey, I could never not love you, never ever.”

“Ok, daddy,” Nora smiles to herself, seemingly satisfied.

“Will you still love me?” Spencer asks and she giggles loudly.

“Yes!”

“I had to make sure!” He defends and Nora squeals, wrapping her arms around his torso and squeezing tight.

“Nora," Spencer finishes seriously, "Mommy and I will love you forever.”

“The baby is going to be small,” Spencer explains, walking Nora through the hospital halls as she swings their interlocked hands back and forth excitedly.

“Okay,” Nora bounces. “Isn’t it cool, daddy, that baby and I have the same birthday month?”

“Wow,” he looks down at Nora and her bright, excited eyes, “it really is.”

“But we have our own days,” she continues, “I think it was meant to be.” She decides, stopping when Spencer does, right in front of your hospital room.

“I think so too,” he smiles, squeezing her hand gently and opening the door carefully.

“Wow,” Nora gasps, consciously trying not to run up to the hospital bed where you hold a tiny bundle.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you smile, “Do you want to meet your sister?”

She nods with wide eyes, already on her tippy toes to try and peer over the tall bed. Spencer instead sits down in the chair next to you and lifts her into his lap. “Here,” he murmurs as you carefully pass over your newborn.

“Hi,” Nora stares at the small bundle, “Daddy,” she gasps, looking up at Spencer in awe. She touches the baby tentatively as her father's arm wraps around her waist. Nora is already hyper-fixated on her sibling, on her sister.

“What’s baby’s name?” She whispers like she’s scared of disturbing her.

“Amelia,” Spencer says quietly, meeting your eyes with a small, content smile.

“Hi Amelia,” Nora smiles, helping Spencer support the baby's head gently, turning to look at you. “Do you think she already knows how much I love her?”

You nod, “I know she does.” Nora nods with a satisfied smile, like that reassures her and you watch her hold her sister, sharing a silent but knowing look with Spencer; knowing now that your family feels so, so complete.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #dad spencer reid #girl dad spencer supremacy

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forthelostones · 5 months

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𝚙𝚝.𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛; 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 ─── ⋆

⟡⋆˙୨ᥫ᭡. 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚞 - 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ᥫ᭡.୧⋆˙⟡

synopsis: abby was a woman whose presence was becoming deeply irresistible to you. in your final year of nursing school, you toil with the idea of pursuing her — ruin what you have or enjoy what’s in front of you?

warnings. 18+ (mdni); sub!abby (eventually), mini slowburn, suggestive language, jealousy, nora & mel & ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parental death, nickname: dummy, and modern au - pre-established relation.

an: hi everyone, waaaa thanks for all the follows! i appreciate you all sooo soo much. so sorry this was a day late! i don't really like this chapter and probably will come back and edit to be a little better. but enjoyx

(no y/n)

wc: 3k

The midterm season ended with many restless nights with Abby. She was satisfied with the amount of time you two were spending together but found it incredibly irritating it was only because of school. She wanted you to be hanging out with her because it was her. She remembered one night while you two were studying some dosage math how your face scrunched up at the problem. Your eraser nub started to become obsolete, scratching against your notebook, followed by the brush of an angry hand. She liked to see you struggle, she enjoyed those small grunts you let out as you pressed harder onto the paper, as if that would make the right answer appear. “Abby.” You groaned.

She started to notice that she liked that too when you would say her name all frustrated but softly with a sleepy pout. She let you struggle so she could scoop in and save you from your own mental despair.

“Look, pay attention. The order is 750 mg of Erythromycin, okay? On hand is 250 mg of Erythromycin capsules,” Abby writes the formula neatly. “Let’s do that math. You know it, I know you do.”

She watches you press your fingers into the sides of your temples as if you could massage your brain. You begin writing out the computation.

“Oh, so it was 3 this whole time.” You sigh.

“Yes, you were close.” Abby smiles as she reaches out to rub your back. Even though you both were sitting here, after a four-hour study session, she thought you looked precious.

A week later, you had fallen asleep on her shoulder while sitting on her sofa rewatching an old lecture. She analyzed your face as if it were a picture she was never to see again. Your bottom lip was glossy and hanging, eyes gently shut with your eyelashes wrinkling in the inner corners, the way your body pressed against hers; heavy and relentlessly. She could tell you felt safe in her presence and that warmed her so much that she began to sweat from anxiety. She didn’t want to wake you up, she knew you hadn’t slept properly and lived off of energy drinks the last couple of days. Your little open-mouthed snores made her smile, you were perfect in her eyes.

She had dozed off for a bit too and noticed your head was now on the back of the couch, slightly over her shoulder.

“Hey, hey. Come on, let me get you some sleeping stuff.”

You blink to uncloud your vision. Embarrassed, you wipe your face and hold it in your hands watching Abby carry over blankets from her hall closet. You silently say thank you to her, not sure if she even heard you. She drags a pillow from her bed, encased in a dark green jersey material.

“Just lay down. Please?” Abby knew you’d protest and walk back to your apartment, which made her demands even stronger. How could she tell you she wanted you in her bed right now? She couldn’t.

You press your head against the firm yet soft surface and drag the blanket up to your neck with her standing over you. Almost admiring you.

“I’m going to go to bed too, if you need me…” Her voice trailed off.

God, this smells like her, you thought. The conditioner she uses is melted into the fiber and threads of this pillow. The piney scent of her skin has left traces on the seams and all you can do is sink into it more, imagining it was her chest. You felt the rhythm of her breathing calm you to sleep and her bolder arms tucking you into her side.

Abby lay in her bed, one pillow missing, helplessly wishing that you would waddle to her door and slip under the covers with her. But you never did.

Two weeks later, Thanksgiving break rolled around and you were due back home to visit your family. Abby was sitting on the edge of your bed watching you fold your clothes up and place them in your duffle. Nursing student's schedules were different from the rest of the university, so your break started today, on Monday.

“You are a horrible folder.” Abby snorts.

“Since you’re so good at professionally folding clothes show me.”

She stood up and took one of your sweaters, facing it on the bed, tossing the sleeves over the torso portion, and folding the bottom to the collar. She stood with a stupid grin admiring her work with her hands on her hips. You nudge her in the rib cage and she shoves you back. The last month or so you two would get into these playful rumbles that ended up with Abby grabbing or pinning your wrists down under her body.

“No, not today. Stop.” She says.

It’s obvious I’m flirting right, Abby thought.

“Thanks for your help but I usually just do my way to everything, shirts, pants, sweaters, not my underwear though, who folds those?”

Abby plops on the bed and raises her eyebrows as to say, Me, idiot.

“Abby please don’t…”

“Folded and color coordinated,”

You couldn’t get the image of her ass in a black thong out of your mind now.

“You have to take care of them, they’re delicate.” She shrugs.

“I know,” you say opening your underwear drawer. “It’s just, look at them.”

Abby was looking, she was looking hard. You’re holding up a pair of nude cheeky, lace panties out of a handful you removed from the dresser. She wondered if you had worn those the day of the house party, and how different things would be right now if she had been responsible for destroying them that night.

“Okay teach me your stupid foldy-thingy,” you say.

Abby holds your panties like they are pure gold. She tucks the corners in and then folds the crotch to make somewhat of a roll and presents it to you after retaking her position.

“You excited to go home?” She asks.

“Of course, I’m helping cook this year, so that’s kinda fun, I guess. How about you?”

“I was just gonna camp out here, catch up on some NCLEX stuff.”

Abby watches your mouth fall open.

“Abigail!” You yell, startling her. She loved the way her name sounded between your lips.

“I can’t just let you be here alone, what the fuck, let me call home and change my flight, I’m serious.”

You reach for your phone that sitting in the center of the bed. Before you know it Abby has it in her tight grip, and tucks it behind her back. “Nope. I’ll be okay.”

You shove your empty duffle off the bed and climb to wrestle the phone from her grip. It happens so fast but suddenly, she’s under you and your legs are wrapped around her waist.

“Abby, give me my phone, now.”

She knows this is playful but the way your voice dropped with such authority made her tense. Your ass was pressed against the top of her mound that was now beating. As you place your arms on either side of her head she gulps.

“What if I don’t?” She pokes.

You roll your eyes. “Abby I can’t let you stay her alone. Plus Ellie invited me to this thing…”

There it was. This wasn’t about her, it was about Ellie.

You lift up and Abby sits up with your phone in her lap, trying to hide her frustration and she wasn’t good at that. “Right.”

“Abby, it wasn’t just because of Ellie,” you start folding to hide from her eyes. “I like spending time with you. You’re a good friend to me. I wasn’t going to stay just for her.”

“You weren’t?”

“Not at all. But now I want to because of you. I wouldn’t feel right going home and being around my family knowing you’re here by yourself studying NCLEX flashcards.”

“I’m just saying, you don't have to stay.”

“I’m not asking for your permission, Abby.”

The following morning Abby spent all day cleaning her apartment energetically awaiting your arrival. Her hair was tied messily on top of her head, bobbing as she scrubbed the inside of her tub. Part of her was doing this to settle her jitters, although you have hung out plenty of times, it was different. You and Abby came to an agreement that you would make a meal together, and she wanted it to be perfect. After sweating the chemicals she inhaled out of her pores, she showered and washed away any worries she had.

She undressed over five times trying to find the right outfit and brushed her hair into different styles, but nothing was satisfying her. But as soon as you knocked on the front door she fluffed it and left it down, which she rarely does. Abby decided on black chino pants, a black short-sleeved top, a gold rope chain peaking under, and small matching gold hoops.

The soft jazz music played through her apartment, bouncing off the walls that were decorated in warm light from a few lamps. There were several candles littered around the living room too. You noticed Abby put on a tinted chapstick and mascara, darkening her eyes a bit. She smiles at you without saying a word, just relishing in your beauty. As she closed the door behind you, she took an unsuspecting look at you.

“Are you ready Chef Anderson?” You ask.

“I am very ready, let me get you a glass of wine.”

Your glasses clink and she watches sip on the velvety liquid which stains your lips beautifully. You couldn’t take your eyes off her, she looked radiant.

“I got all the groceries from the list you sent me and I am ready to cook, I only have one apron though…”

“Good, I’m just here to look pretty and sit anyway.” You add.

She scuffs at you and laughs lightly. Abby didn’t mind cooking for you, actually she preferred it this way.

You settle on the couch, body facing the kitchen and watch her tie a blue and white pinstriped apron around her waist. Her ass in those pants was decadent, you watched her bend over to reach into the fridge and shamelessly watched her muscle fill the slacks in all the right places. Her toned arms began prepping various veggies, flexing and precisely slicing them. You walk up behind her to get a better look, body pressed against the outside of her back and arm. She smiles over her shoulder and just continues to chop with such precision as if she were a surgeon.

“Wanna try?” She asked, lifting the knife to you.

You set your glass on the counter and pick up the professional-grade knife that was just in her hands. You begin dicing the onions but they come out jagged compared to the cut of hers.

“How do you—“

Before you could finish your sentence her hands were coming up to yours, hand around your wrist and guiding you on the proper level of pressure to use. Her hips were gently brushing your backside, forearm swooping on your back, looking over your shoulder, and whispering praises in your ear.

Like that. Ahh Perfect. Good. Slower.

“My sous chef.” She smiled, tilting her head at you, as she refilled your glasses. She wiped her hands on her apron and moved on to the next thing. She didn’t mind that you were watching her hands grip around the base of the knife, proctoring her every move.

“Am I doing a good job?” She asked.

“Yes, a very good job.”

You emptied her cabinets with the proper cutlery to set the table. Abby found herself observing how neatly you laid out the plates and napkins, it felt right. She recognized the feelings that she had for you in that moment were undeniable. It felt like she could do this forever with you. Make dinner after a long shift and sit and talk to you about any and everything, live together, and build a dream life. Once you noticed her watching and staring, she blinked to awaken herself from that fantasy.

“Ah fuck,” she muttered.

“What’s wrong?”

“This is my cooking shirt, I’m going to go change into something cleaner.”

She walked away hurriedly, nervous that you noticed her soiled top. She crossed her arms, peeling off her shirt, exposing the back of her red mesh bra to you. Your eyebrows lift as you wonder if she has the matching panties. She exchanged the black shirt for a white one, where the sleeves suffocated her arms and clung to her body in a seductive way. The traces of the bra were outlined in the fabric, exposing the intricate lacing on the top.

“This looks really delicious.” You smile as Abby dishes up your food.

She grins at your compliment and serves herself ready to eat.

“I’m glad you’re here with me.”

You push your food around on your plate, suddenly feeling shy, and look up to her waiting for your words back. “I’m really glad I stayed. You know how to treat a girl right.”

Abby bit the corner of her lip, you always made her lose her train of thought when you looked at her with those wide eyes. Halfway through dinner, with a few more glasses of wine, and a lot of food in, you really begin to feel a flutter in your stomach and wonder if Abby is feeling the same way too.

“So, the whole Nora situation.” Your voice trailed.

Abby sighs. “Nothing came of it, I still never replied to that message.”

“Why not?”

Abby couldn’t read your face — was it jealousy, contempt, or something else.

“Not really interested in her. I could force myself to be but it’s not really fair is it?”

“I mean, she just wanted to sleep with you I’m sure.” You sip.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just know.”

“From personal experience?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Anderson.”

Abby stood over the sink wiping down the countertop after washing the dishes, and you did the same to the dining room table. “All done Chef.” You smile, tossing the towel at her. You walk towards her with a half-lidded, tipsy look and she just shoves you away playfully.

“Come dance with me Anderson.”

“What? No.” She chuckles apprehensively.

She dries her hands on the towel thrown over her shoulder and strolls over to you. You roll your hips to the music and turn around slowly, so she can get a glimpse of you. Her eyes travel up and down your body, appreciating the view.

“C’mon Abby, show me how you showed Mel.” You poke.

She doesn’t hesitate to drape your arms over her shoulders and lace her fingers behind your back. You glance down to her cherry mouth and back to her eyes. Music was playing but you couldn’t hear it, she trapped you, and there was no going back.

“I’m not the best dancer you know.” She says.

“Well, I can see that.”

You look at her body, stiff as a board. You remove your arms and switch positions with her, bringing her arms over your shoulders and holding her waist. Abby was surprised to see you take the initiative. She laughed at how large her arms were in comparison to yours, but she noticed your grip was strong on her hips.

“I like when you guide me.” She whispered.

“You do?”

“A lot.”

“I tend to prefer to take the lead,” You smirk.

Abby loses her footing as you push her back to fall into a box step. She becomes flustered trying to find the rhythm in the music, watching your feet, attempting to emulate your pattern.

“Eyes up.” You say, lifting her chin.

Abby fell into the steps, her eyes concentrating on you. She saw her deepest desire play out in her mind, which was kissing you, and there was nothing stopping her now. She also didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“I got it.” She smiled.

“See, now you can share this with whomever.” You say, pulling away.

Abby scratched her neck. “What if I only want to share it with you?”

Her words ring loudly in your ears, the combination of her touch and the wine was making everything sweeter. She stepped forward, wrapping her hand around the back of your neck, and pressed her lips against yours. The bitter grape taste swirled in your mouth as her smooth mouth found yours. You rest your hands on her waist, thumbs perched under her t-shirt, massaging her skin.

Abby was embarrassed at how wet she became from just a simple kiss. Your fingers on her were cold but it was the warmest touch she ever received. Neither of you pulled away until you were fighting for air. It was the first time in Abby’s life that she made the first move on a woman she had an interest in. She grinned proudly after examining your sweet face.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to do that.” She said.

“Don’t be sorry,” you glide your hands over the curve of her ass.

Abby’s stomach dropped through the floor as you gently toyed with her. She watched the ends of your grin curl, noticing how sensitive you made her. You lean in again, hovering in front of her lips.

“You wanna do it again?” You tease.

“I do.” She mumbles.

You ghost your lips onto hers, barely touching, not even a peck. She huffs in frustration and pushes herself in closer, to which you pull away. She rolls her eyes and tries again, and you lean away. Finally, she grabs your face and doesn’t hold back. Your cheeks are crushed in her palms, her tongue is desperate in your mouth and searching for yours. Abby’s breathing heavily and walking you backward into the nearest wall. Without breaking contact, she grabs your wrists and puts them above your head. Her lips wrap around your tongue and she starts sucking without warning. Her thigh comes in between your legs, practically lifting you up the wall, and you gasp at the sensation.

#abby x reader #abby anderson smut #lesbian #abby anderson x you #abby smut #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #ellie williams fanfic

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pinksomovember · 6 months

Text

Day 1 - In A Car [ao3]

Ivy rocked on her heel folded under her.

“I’m going to piss myself,” she said, a slight whine bleeding into her otherwise joking tone.

Nora didn’t respond. Ivy had been complaining on-and-off for the past hour, with increasing frequency, and had started shortly after a stop that had a bathroom.

“I seriously don’t think I’ve ever had to pee this bad in my life,” Ivy continued. “It’s starting to hurt.”

“You could’ve gone at the gas station,” Nora said.

Ivy didn’t appreciate the condescending scolding. She felt like a water balloon that was still attached to the hose, bulging more and more with every second, with only a matter of time before it went pop. Her only outlet was to fidget, simultaneously squeezing her thighs together and rocking back and forth onto her foot so it pressed up against her pussy. In combination with the seam of her jean shorts digging up against her—working its way into a wedgie—her urethra had plenty of pressure to help it stay closed. That was only going to work for so long, though.

“You didn’t see the bathrooms,” Ivy argued. They’d been disgusting—shit on the back of the seat, a truly foul smelling liquid seeping along the corners of the floor, and flies everywhere. Not to mention how every surface was covered in stains and dried flecks of who-knows-what. If it had been cleaned in the past month Ivy would eat one of her socks.

She’d had to pee, decently bad, when they had stopped there. But under no circumstances would Ivy use that bathroom. Except for maybe (just maybe) right now.

She thought she’d be able to hold it. They were only a few hours out from their destination and she could always get Nora to stop at a rest stop or a gas station if it really got bad. Ivy, however, hadn’t realized that they were about to exit fucking civilization. There had been nothing for the past fifty miles other than cattle and the occasional cornfield!

“If you weren’t chugging those iced teas-”

“I’ve stopped!”

Ivy might’ve also forgotten to factor in how much liquid had still been moving its way through her system, too. It was a habit for her to sip at sugary drinks when she was bored.

A wave of desperation so strong that Ivy dug her nails into her thighs swept through her.

“Ohhh my god,” she moaned. “I can’t do this. Jesus fucking Christ.”

There was so much pee inside her right now her bladder was visibly pushing up against her skin, firm and tight and aching between her hips. She had given up on the seatbelt, and the button of her shorts, well over fifteen minutes ago. Ivy kind of wanted to cry.

Nora softened. “You going to be alright, babe?”

“I don’t know. Yes, probably. Maybe.”

“I can always pull over,” she offered. “You’d have to piss on the side of the road, though.”

Ivy shook her head adamantly. “No, there’s way too much traffic.”

They fell into silence for a few minutes, aside from the staticy music of one of the few radio station’s Nora’s truck was picking up and the occasional curse from Ivy.

“Are you enjoying it, at least? At least a little?” Nora asked, breaking the quiet.

“What?” Ivy practically panted. Her breathing was rough as she tried to huff and puff her way through the worst of the desperation.

“Just.” Nora seemed a bit embarrassed, keeping her eyes completely glued to the road. “You’re…y’know. Piss thing.”

“It’s not a piss thing,” Ivy hissed, mortified. Even though it was, at least partially, a piss thing.

It wasn’t her fault that having a full bladder turned her on. From what Ivy understood, it was just simple biology! The fuller that most women’s bladder’s get, the more it puts pressure on all the internal pleasure hotspots. A little like cockwarming a moderately small toy, just without any form of firmness that a foreign object would feel like. It felt good in a slow building, passive sort of way.

Getting off with all that weight in her lower belly also felt good. A little bit of extra flare to a still otherwise damn good orgasm.

But she wouldn’t say she was into piss. The idea of the smell and the mess alone was enough to turn her off to it. Holding it on occasion until it was just starting to edge into too much was plenty enough for her.

Although, she had to admit, she wasn’t exactly turned off to it right now.

Each tight squeeze of her thighs stimulated her a little bit. Every rock back pressed the bone of her heel into the squelching slickness of her pussy, which was absolutely soaking her panties despite knowing damn well that she hadn’t leaked a single drop of pee yet. And with all that movement, the seam of her shorts was pulled tight against her unmistakably hard clit.

“Well, are you?” Nora asked.

“I-” Ivy stopped herself. Her face was burning. “Yeah, maybe. So what, I still have to pee more than I have to—or whatever, want to—get off.”

Nora stole a side glance at Ivy. Something dark, heedy, interested came over her expression as she drank in how Ivy looked.

Ivy sacrificed one of her hands clawing into her thigh as a grounding method to cover her face. This was embarrassing enough as it was without having to talk about her kinks. Even if Nora seemed to be getting into it.

“Oh my god, ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” Ivy chanted, forgetting her embarrassment entirely. The wave of desperation felt incredibly, suddenly like a physical wave. She could feel it surging against the sphincter muscles of her urethra.

She wiggled her hips side to side to try and fight through it. The movement caused her shorts, already so tight against her cunt, to shift. Her clit was trapped between the seam and her pubic bone, but couldn’t stay in place with this new movement. The seam fucking stroked her aching clit, slipping to the side before grinding right back over it with the next sway of her hips.

“Hu-uhn,” Ivy couldn’t help but moan. “Uh, uh, uh!”

“Fuck,” Nora cursed, breathless.

Ivy couldn’t process the difference between her desperation for relief and her sudden, surging need to cum. Everything was much too much and not enough at the same time.

“Fuckfuckfuck. Jesus Christ. Uhaha.” Ivy sobbed a couple times. It was part laugh and part horniness and part overwhelmed. She couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt like an out-of-body event while also being the most physically animal experience she had ever had.

“God. You feeling good, baby?” Nora asked.

“Y-y-yes!” Ivy wailed. “It’s- fuck, it’s so good. I’m so wet. Shit, I’m so- I’ve gotta piss so bad.”

Nora took her right hand off the wheel to grab Ivy’s leg. Her other hand held onto the wheel so tight her knuckles were turning white. There was something wild about her. Something that, if she didn’t have to focus so much of her attention on the road, might’ve swept her up in the same way Ivy’s desperation was.

“You gonna play with yourself, baby?” Nora asked. “Gonna play with your clit while you piss yourself?”

“Don’t- don’t wanna piss myself,” Ivy whined. Nevertheless, she did as Nora suggested and grabbed tight between her legs. Her shorts were too tight and were getting in the way of actually being able to touch herself effectively, but the pressure helped reel in her bladder’s demands a little bit.

“Ives, baby, there’s no bathrooms for miles yet.”

A reedy noise broke in Ivy’s throat.

“I know, I know,” Nora said, hand squeezing at Ivy’s thigh. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“This is so fucking embarassing,” Ivy managed, laughing incredulously. “I’m seriously gonna wet myself. Fuck.”

“I don’t care. Fuck, baby, looking like that…I’d let you ruin anything.”

“Hm?” Ivy hummed. Her whole cunt was pulsing, vagina and pussy lips and clit. She was so wet she wouldn’t even be surprised if a spot was showing up on her shorts, soaked straight through her panties. Her body was building up to something—so high up she was almost afraid of it—unsure if it would be the dams breaking involuntarily or an orgasm so intense it would be the best she’d ever had.

“You look so fucking good, Ives,” Nora rasped. “I could eat you alive.”

“I…” Ivy wavered. She didn’t know what she wanted to say.

“It’s okay,” Nora said. “It’s gonna happen either way, isn’t it? Unless you changed your mind about the side of the road?”

They were on a two-laned highway, a couple of cars in either direction always in sight. Stopping would mean even more cars, as the ones behind them passed them by.

“No, absolutely not. It’d end up on the- on the fucking Internet or something.”

Nora massaged her thumb against Ivy’s skin. “Then I’m sorry, baby, but you’re gonna have to piss yourself.”

“’S bullshit,” Ivy mumbled. Tears were pricking up in her eyes. The side-to-side wiggling was simultaneously not doing enough to help her hold it and doing a frustratingly inconsistent too-much-not-enough to get her off. She resorted back to rocking, with no sign of pausing the mounting something that was steadily creeping up on her.

“We’ve got a ton of clothes in the back,” Nora soothed. “And towels, and baby wipes, and our rental is pretty far from any neighbors so nobody’ll see you walking in your wet clothes. And it won’t take too much to clean the truck, and I don’t mind cleaning it up, okay?”

“But-”

“It’s not a big deal,” Nora insisted, a bit of firmness edging in. “Understand?”

Ivy nodded tightly. She did understand, even if she could barely think.

“Now, since it’s gonna happen anyways, you want to make yourself feel good?”

“Already am,” Ivy said. “Might, fuck, I don’t know. Might cum.”

“Just like that?”

“May- uhn- maybe.”

“Fuck.” She sounded reverent. “You wanna touch yourself, baby? Wanna stick your fingers down your shorts?”

Ivy nodded, frantic. She was so close, to coming, to pissing, to doing both. She just couldn’t quite get there.

Her fingers felt fucking heavenly. Her pussy was a mess of sticky slick, audibly squishing as she pushed her hand beneath the waistband of her panties and into the lips of her pussy. Just brushing against her clit was enough to cause her to shout out, trembling at the sudden stimulation of sensitive nerves.

“Just like that, baby. Fuck, look at you. It feels good?”

“Yes! Fuck, ohmygod. Hnnnuh.”

Ivy’s fingers were clumsy, sitting up and trapped in her shorts and obstructed by the clamping of her thighs. But God, it didn’t even matter. She grinded her cunt on her heel and the drag of the cotton and denim against her pussy made everything all the better and her fingers fumbling over her clit was dragging her up up up.

“Keep playing with your clit, baby. Just like that, yeah. Just how you like it.”

“Gonna- fuck!”

“You gonna cum, Ives?”

“Wanna,” Ivy cried. “So- fuck, please, please. Wanna…I’m so…”

“Or are you gonna piss?”

“Fuck!” Ivy wailed. Her pleasure crested, sharp and violent and hard enough that her whole body shook. She threw her head back into the seat, practically seizing. She barely recognized the sounds she was making as something coming from her mouth, unfamiliar from any other she’d made before.

“Oh my god,” Nora was saying, somewhere in the distance. “Fuck, baby. Fuck.”

Ivy was still shaking, still somewhere high up.

“Need’ta piss,” she slurred. “Need’ta…uhn, I need’ta…”

Nora said something. Ivy registered only that it was meant to be encouraging.

“Uh, uhn, ohhhhhh fuck. Oh-”

Ivy’s fingers were still against her cunt, and she felt the first hot trickle of piss against them. It wasn’t enough, though, not even registering as relief. The sensation of liquid leaving her bladder, however, passing through her weakening sphincter and soaking into her shorts, bordered into the same amount of pleasure as playing with her clit usually was.

So soon after her orgasm, she felt overstimulated. There was still way too much pressure and it was taking a strenuous amount of concentration to keep even the tiny stream going and everything still felt so fucking good.

“Nnn…Nora,” Ivy sobbed. “I can’t-”

“Relax, Ives, relax. It’s okay, you can do it.”

“Can’t-”

Nora let go of Ivy’s thigh and instead tucked her hand beneath Ivy’s wrist of the hand still down her shorts to place her palm against her belly. “I’m gonna push down a bit, okay? Just relax.”

Ivy hiccuped, but nodded. She was still managing a thin stream of piss, seeping into the seat of her shorts and just barely beginning to form a puddle under her butt, but her bladder was screaming at her.

Nora pushed down and Ivy squirmed violently. The pressure was so much more but it wasn’t doing anything but hurting. She had to piss so bad and she couldn’t and inexplicably she felt like she could cum again just like this but not quite. And then her urethra gave way.

“Ohmy god,” Ivy choked. The piss flooded out of her.

It didn’t even feel like she was sitting in the passenger seat of her girlfriend’s car, her entire bottom was so suddenly drenched. She might as well have been sitting in the tub in a few inches of bathwater. Hot, very slightly piss-scented, bathwater.

It was euphoric. She might’ve been cumming again, for all the pleasure searing through her as her release hissed through her panties and pooled on the fabric seat faster than it could soak it up. She genuinely couldn’t tell.

The stream was hot and steady against her fingers as it sprayed out of her. Absently, she petted along her inner labia.

“Shit,” Nora said, like she was in awe. “Shit.”

The stream started to peter out, in fits and bursts. Just when Ivy thought it was over another gush would start up, each one a little weaker than the last.

There was a dull drip, drip, drip as the puddle on the seat dripped onto the floorboards.

Nora’s eyes darted between the road and Ivy, with a desperate sort of want. “Oh my god, Ives. That was…”

“I think I’m still going,” Ivy said. She felt a little fuzzy around the edges, numb in the very tips of her fingers and toes and slightly cross eyed. Fucked out.

“Fuck,” Nora whispered, enthralled.

The final dredges of her bladder’s contents were still dribbling out of her, like her urethra couldn’t quite figure out how to close back up. Ivy tried to force it a bit, by clenching up, but all that caused was a violent shiver to rush up her spine and a soft little gasp.

Finally, finally, Ivy felt herself stop peeing.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, satisfied and spent and high on sex.

“You okay?” Nora asked. Her hand was back to Ivy’s thigh, mindless of the piss starting to cool on her skin.

“Yeah,” Ivy sighed, sleepy and pliant. “M’great. Maybe, uh, in a bit you could get a towel outta the back?”

“Yeah,” Nora agreed. “’Course, baby.”

#omovember #omorashi #fem omo #day 1 #original work #piss kink #original character #omovember 2023 #fic

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howlingday · 15 days

Note

Imagine Jaune as Scott Sterling(from Studio C). How funny would that be? Pyrrha would probably sue the coach and let Nora beat up the team.

Oobleck: Welcome back to our coverage of the game between Teams RWBY and JNPR.

Port: If you're just joining us today, you've missed most of an unbelievably well fought match between two incredible teams tonight. It has all come down to the final, penalty shots. All it takes is enough points for either team. Here comes the kick...

Pyrrha: (Kicks, Scores goal)

Oobleck: OH! SPECTACULAR! Team JNPR's star player, Pyrrha Nikos, has just landed a goal for her team, so now the burden rests on Team JNPR's goal-keeper, Jaune Arc.

Port: Here he comes. A fine lad with nerves of steel. He's got more hanging over him than the city of Mantle right now.

Oobleck: Indeed, and it seems the fans are showing their appreciation for it. Yang Xiao Long places the ball on the spot, getting ready.

Port: That girl literally has a cannon for a leg, and here she comes! Winding up for the shot and-

Yang: (Kicks)

Jaune: (Pelted in the face)

Oobleck/Port: OOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Port: THE CANNON HAS FIRED AND HAS STRUCK JAUNE ARC IN THE FACE DIRECTLY!

Oobleck: We clocked that at a stunning 116 kilometers per hour!

Port: Now that's a lot of, er, miles per hour!

Oobleck: Even with aura, there is no chance that young man's nose isn't broken right now.

Port: Oh, indeed!

Jaune: (Dazed)

Goodwitch: (Shining a light in his face, Nods, Leaves)

Port: Now it seems Team JNPR's coach, Professor Goodwitch, is examining him and deems him fit for duty after a short rest. Sadly, he's not out of the woods yet.

Oobleck: On his feet now, a bit shaken.

Port: But not stirred!

Oobleck/Port: HAHAHAHA!

Port: This crowd absolutely loves this young man.

Oobleck: He returns to his team, who welcome him back as a hero. And now comes another penalty kick, and scoring here would make it two nil. Nora Valkyrie approaches the ball with determination!

Nora: (Kicks, Misses goal)

Port: She hits high and wide, way off target!

Oobleck: She must have thought she was playing Mantle Football and attempting a field goal!

Port: Wrong kind of football, I'd say! And back now to Jaune Arc, looking a bit worse for wear, but ready for round two.

Oobleck: The shot takes a moment, but here comes Belladonna!

Blake: (Kicks)

Jaune: (Beaned in the schnozz)

Oobleck/Port: OOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Port: Jaune Arc with the fantastic dive! The ball flies straight through the air and his hands and whacks Jaune Arc right in the sniffer!

Oobleck: Looking again on the instant replay and OH! EVERY EXCRUCIATING DETAIL IS CAPTURED PERFECTLY IN HIGH-DEFINITION PERFECTION! Clocked in at 129 kilometers per hour.

Port: Arc does not look well. Two wonderful saves compounding two DEFINITE concussions.

Goodwitch: (Carries Jaune on shoulder)

Jaune: (Falls, Dragged away)

Oobleck: This seems to be the end of Jaune Arc's performance tonight.

Port: Indeed, as his coach pulls him through the grass and off the field, like a large-breasted lioness dragging a gazelle with a broken nose across the savannah.

Oobleck: Adieu, Jaune Arc. Adieu.

Port: JNPR now with their third PK. Weiss bouncing at the goal like an infant. The crowd holds their breath as Valkyrie moves in... OH! Very anticlimactic there. Let's see who they got to replace Jaune Ar-

Oobleck/Port: JAUNE ARC!

Port: JAUNE ARC IS BACK!

Oobleck: Jaune Arc is still in the game! Oh my, and it seems he's taken a very odd tactic now!

Port: He seems to be in the fetal position, covering his face.

Oobleck: Not a recommended technique, but here it co- Oh, wait! It seems Weiss Schnee is stopping to tie her shoe.

Port: Ho ho! And that's why you do a double-knot, kids!

Oobleck: Arc, still waiting for the kick to happen. He's probably wondering when the-

Jaune: (Looks up)

Weiss: (Kicks, Pops him in the beak)

Oobleck/Port: OOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Oobleck: SWEET, CREAMY DECAF!

Port: The ball strikes Arc right in the face, further crushing his nostrils into thin slits! He must be breathing only blood by now! He's going to look like one of those cartoon characters that just ran into a frying pan while they were chasing after a mouse!

Oobleck: I don't even care that we missed Lie Ren's attempt! Let's go back to-

Oobleck/Port: JAUNE ARC!

Port: THE MAN!

Oobleck: THE MYTH!

Oobleck/Port: THE LEGEND!

Jaune: (Stumbling to the goal, Bloodied and battered)

Port: I can't wait to see Arc and his catlike face reflexes!

Oobleck: Absolutely incredible, though I must say that Arc does not look well at all lying on the ground there.

Port: Well, you know athletes. They like to add a bit of drama to their performances.

Jaune: (Picked up by Ren and Nora)

Port: Are they taking him out?

Pyrrha: (Runs out with chair)

Oobleck: They brought him a chair! A bold move by their coach!

Jaune: (Reaches for his team leaving)

Oobleck: This is basically a gimme! Ruby Rose has to literally kick it anywhere that isn't where Jaune Arc is!

Port: There is no way Team RWBY can mess up this shot!

Jaune: (Begging Ruby)

Ruby: (Kicks, Craters his face)

Oobleck/Port: OOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Oobleck: ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-EIGHT KILOMETERS PER HOUR!

Port: THIS MAN CAN DO NO WRONG! Just look at him in this instant replay, begging for mercy when it should be mercy begging for him!

Oobleck: He has looked Death in the eye and said, "Take your best shot!" To which Death replies with repeated punches to Arc's face! Just over and over and over again!

Port: If Team JNPR make this final shot, it's all over! But-

Oobleck/Port: OOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Port: No! Pyrrha Nikos misses, clearly too distracted by the wounds her partner, Jaune Arc, has sustained in this game! Speaking of, it's time we go back to-

Oobleck/Port: JAUNE! ARC!

Port: His face is like a brick wall!

Oobleck: A brick wall that can feel only pain and cries a lot!

Port: Wait a minute... I see Team RWBY's star kicker, Penny Polendina, but where's Jaune Arc?

Oobleck: ...Oh! It seems Arc is crawling away from the goal! WHAT IS HE DOING?!

Port: HE'S THROWING AWAY THE MATCH!

Penny: (Kicks exactly where she needs to)

Jaune: (...Words cannot describe the calamity of what just happened. At least, they fail to accurately depict what could be described as what really happened. The only accuracy that could be described in this space is that there was physical contact between Jaune Arc's face and a large, head-sized ball, and that there was a lot of bodily fluids that resulted from this contact, and that Jaune Arc was in so much pain that it's likely he passed out or away, though it's also just as likely that he didn't.)

Oobleck/Port: OOOOOOOOOOOOH!

Port: ARC HAS DONE THE IMPOSSIBLE!

Oobleck: ICAN'TBELIEVEIT! LOOKATTHAT! HE'SDONETHEIMPOSSIBLE! He was hit just right! What incredible instincts he had to just crawl away from the goal like that!

Port: His team rushes to the field, happy as a lark, as they all slide in and accidentally kick Jaune Arc in the face!

Oobleck: And now his team his carrying him off and away on an orange stretch of victory, glory, and emergency medical attention! Jaune Arc and his face of steel have won it all!

#rwby #scott sterling #studio c #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #jaune arc #peter port #bartholomew oobleck #lie ren #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladona #penny polendina #yang xiao long #glynda goodwitch

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novankenn · 4 months

Text

Oh... Crap-Baskets... HELP?

Jaune was sitting with his team, in their dorm. It was the start of the Winter Holiday Break, so he decided even with his limited funds to get each of them something special... in celebration of being a team, and his friends.

Nora: I LOVE IT!!! Thank your Fearless Leader!

Jaune smiled as he watched Nora smoother the small sloth plushie he had found.

Ren: This is unexpected and thoughtful. Thank you Jaune.

Ren gave Jaune a respectful bow of his head as he set the small do it yourself bonsai tree-tranquility garden kit in his lap.

Jaune: You guys are really welcome. It's the least I could to show my appreciation for putting up with me, and for helping me out.

Jaune did notice that Pyrrha hadn't said anything about her gift.

Jaune: *Thinking* I guess she doesn't like it.

Pyrrha: Nora. Ren.

Nora: Yes Pyr-Pyr?

Pyrrha: Can I have the room for a bit? I would like to speak with Jaune... alone.

Ren: Of course.

Jaune felt heart broken. Pyrrha's gift was the hardest for him to find, seeing as who she was. He hoped the little reminder that they were friends and a team would have been good enough... but he guessed not.

(In Argus)

Terra: *Giggling* So what gag-gift did Jaune send up this year? That pack of edible panties was a big hit.

Saphron : Huh? I don't get it.

Saphron shows Terra the small bronze charm bracelet, with four charms attached. A hammer, a little pistol, a shield and a spear.

Terra: I wonder if he mixed things up when he was wrapping them.

(Back at Beacon)

Jaune's shoulders slumped, and he felt defeated. He had tried his best, but he guess that he just wasn't good enough. That was until a small slip of paper was handed to him. Confused he looked at it... his eyes suddenly going wide.

This Coupon Entitles the Presenter to... TWO HOURS of NAKED CUDDLES

Jaune: Pyrrha?

Pyrrha: *huskily whispering in his ear* I love you gift...

Jaune: *Thinking* NO! NO! NO! Wrong gift! WRONG GIFT!

Pyrrha: *Huskily whispering in his ear, as her arms slowly wrap about his waist* I plan... on using quite a few of these today...

Jaune: *Thinking* HELP?

/=====/ To EVERYONE... I wish you a SAFE and HAPPY HOLIDAY SEASON!!

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #arkos #nora valkyrie #lie ren #team jnpr #saphron cotta arc #terra cortta arc #happy holidays

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mooodlighting · 22 days

Text

Swing the Spinning Step

Alex went to the gay bar with June and Nora on a Thursday night and walked out with the blond smokeshow he’d been exchanging heated glances with for hours.

His name was Henry, and his hands were on Alex and under his coat as soon as they walked through the front entry of his beautiful, enormous fucking brownstone. Alex would circle back to that later.

Henry swiftly divested him of two and a half layers as Alex loosely gripped him by the elbows, just trying to hold on. Eyes slipping shut on an appreciative groan, Alex swayed forward to capture Henry’s mouth with his own.

A firm palm at the center of his chest stopped him halfway there.

Alex blinked to find steady blue eyes staring back at him.

“No kissing, if you don’t mind,” Henry said coolly.

AU. Alex and Henry are friends with benefits. Henry has a rule about kissing.

Chapter 2/2 | 8k | Read on AO3

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #rwrb au #alex x henry #firstprince #mine

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that-stone-butch · 1 year

Note

Is Fallout 4 really that bad? As someone who enjoyed FNV, does it make sense to play it in your opinion?

i'm not going to say fallout 4 is a bad game in a vacuum, but it fails to be a fallout game as well as 1, 2, new vegas, and even 3 was at times.

it's not much of a play-your-way RPG. you don't build a character with attributes and skill points and whatnot; it's literally just your SPECIAL points *are* how you level up in fallout 4. the only thing you can do when you level up is spend your one perk point on either increasing a SPECIAL stat, or buying a perk that is gated by SPECIAL stat and level. no tagged skills, no traits, nothing. when building a character, fallout 4 does not respect your intelligence as a player enough to let you have a say over any of the fun shit. it's the antithesis of new vegas' character design and if you enjoyed that then you're in for a real sad time with f4.

additionally, it is mechanically focused on scaling procedurally. instead of being able to take on tougher enemies and score a better weapon like the progression of FNV, in fallout 4 the manner by which your weapons scale to the difficulty is by buying the 'more handgun damage' perk and maybe the 'upgrade weapons even morer' perk, which are both level-gated. this means that the game plays the same at level 10 as it does at level 40. it's just that Super Mutant Orc Man's hit bar is more health, and Perk Upgraded 10mm Pistol is more damage, so it evens out.

furthermore, the story is completely on-rails and the factions are like, really fucking hard to care about when all they have to offer is procedurally generated go to place X, kill all of the raiders/synths/super mutants/critters there, and retrieve mcguffin Y item, rinse and repeat.

while in fallout new vegas (2010), you can build your own character your own way, everyone's fallout 4 character is fundamentally mechanically the same, as well as literally being a voiced character with a set backstory, motivations, and quest line. in FNV you could be whoever you want however you want. in fallout 4, you have to be either Nate or Nora, with their prescribed heterosexual husband/wife, and their baby. if you don't care about this story, then fallout 4 is just an open world crafting game with very constricted mechanics.

i would say fallout 4 makes a sort of fun open world base builder if that's your jam, but if you're a fallout fan through and through it's mostly just worth playing to appreciate all the things that actual fallout games got right. and that's not worth $60 and hours of my time to me.

#ask #anonymous #fallout #fallout new vegas (2010)#fallout 4

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cricketnationrise · 12 days

Text

some sentence sunday 24.4

is this thing still on?

i have a lull at work which means i have time AND brain space for actual words to get written! so pls enjoy this extra bit from my big bang fic that i'm sooooo close to finishing and really excited about. thanks everyone for the tags today and the last month, you're all below the cut bc there are so many people that have tagged me its overwhelming (affectionate).

Nora assumes that there is actual football being played based on the level of noise around her, but she’s fully focused on June and the rest of the cheerleaders for the first half of the game. The part of her brain that’s always on wonders if there’s an equation that could predict what routine June or the cheer coach will call the squad to do next. She knows there are some routines for defense and some for offense, three options for when the team scores, some more general pep and tumbling ones, and a specific routine they use whenever the marching band plays the fight song, plus a halftime routine. There’s bound to be some way to track the statistics of each and build a predictive model that’s relatively accurate, but Nora would need more data, like a lot more. She’d also need, unfortunately, a much more in-depth knowledge of football, which she absolutely refuses to engage in. So while the math likely checks out, Nora isn’t going to be the one to do it. Alex keeps her from dying of boredom for the rest of the game, happy to snark with her about the other team (she’s not dumb enough to talk shit about her own team while smack dab in the middle of the bleachers), make up fake names for all the fancy football plays, and generally treat the marching band like their own personal karaoke machine, belting out the lyrics of everything from Carry On My Wayward Son and All I Do Is Win to Seven Nation Army and Tequila and every song in between. She even gets into the spirit of the whole thing enough to dance like a maniac when the drumline goes ape-shit at the end of the third quarter. She catches the pleased disbelief on June’s face when they make eye contact over fancy flying drumsticks and tumbling cheerleaders and tries not to blush in response. In fact, Nora’s almost won over to the idea of sporting events in general and football in the specific for the atmosphere alone by the time the game ends. So it’s even more fucking annoying when Evan goes and ruins it.

sincerely, thank you for the tags while i've been drowning in sets and stage effects and scenery strikes and six day/ten hour weeks for the last month i saw them and appreciated! it was a delight seeing all your wip wednesdays and sentence sundays and last lines - definitely helped keep me sane!

@kiwiana-writes @celeritas2997 @cha-melodius @rockyroadkylers @inexplicablymine

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @cactusdragon517 @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @magicandarchery @leaves-of-laurelin

@itsmaybitheway @indestructibleheart @tailsbeth-writes @porcelainmortal @anincompletelist

@firenati0n @three-drink-amy @adreamareads @wordsofhoneydew @14carrotghoul

@sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @xthelastknownsurvivorx @affectionatelyrs @rmd-writes

@suseagull04 @iboatedhere @onthewaytosomewhere @getmehighonmagic @heysweetheart-writes

@happiness-of-the-pursuit @tintagel-or-cockleshells

and tagging: @sparklepocalypse @dumbpeachjuice @missanniewhimsy @the-lincyclopedia @montrealmadison

@cheesecurdsgravyandfries @everwitch-magiks @anchoredarchangel @smc-27 @clottedcreamfudge

@orchidscript

plus an open tag if anyone needs/want the excuse to post as well

-💜🦗

#cricket writes #some sentence sunday #rwrb #a royally big bang #junora #pov nora holleran #can we tell i used to be in marching band?#plus my brother was on the drumline #so i've got OPINIONS

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dearophelia · 1 year

Text

best of sara's fic, according to her

Because I’m feeling some kind of way about my cancer lately and wanted to put together a Sara’s Greatest Fic Hits while I’m still around to do it (which is a morbid thing to type, but see the intro: been feeling some kind of way lately).

These range from my most popular fics, to the ones lost to weird posting hours, and everything in between. If I counted correctly, there are 14 fandoms on this list: from Mass Effect and Dragon Age, to Grey’s Anatomy and Stargate SG-1, to The West Wing and Calvin & Hobbes.

I’d appreciate reblogs on this (I am not ashamed to pull the stage iv cancer card here) so it can reach as many people as possible.

I have been writing fic for over 15 years; this is not a short list.

All are rated T or lower unless otherwise indicated. All stories are at or under the 3k mark unless otherwise indicated.

Stargate SG-1:

waves are universal (the heaven in hiding remix) (Sam/Jack; I’m very Normal about this fic; time travel and alternate realities, a host of OCs (and some familiar faces from Norafic if you look closely), oh and the Sam/Jack kid from the alternate reality! Only she’s an adult and working on a way to save the world! This has it all, folks: humor, romance, angst, action! I told you I’m Normal about it; 40k)

strange is the night where black stars rise (Sam; horror! A low creeping sense of doom! The King in Yellow! No, seriously, fuck that planet; 10k)

#sg1wedding (Sam/Jack; their wedding turned into An Event against their will; bets are going down about who would win in a fight: Bra’tac or the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs; also Jack loses his socks; twitterfic from 2012 and technology has definitely Marched On, just read it like an unhinged group chat fic)

phoenix (Sam/Daniel/Teal’c, Sam/Jack, Sam/Jack/Daniel/Teal’c; apocalypse (that I consulted a real live geologist on!); rebuilding in the wake of said apocalypse; team family feelings, kids, and some really shitty neighbors; 38k)

Dragon Age:

joy cometh in the morning (Ariadne; rated M; a host of OCs; mind the warnings; friendship; worldbuilding galore; friendships and mentors and first loves; did I mention friendship and worldbuilding?; 56k)

through the rude wind’s wild lament, and the bitter weather (Ari+Cullen; quiet magic, kind magic, good magic is still new to Cullen)

as the sun kissed the horizon (Ari/Josephine; a relationship in ten moments)

‘til we meet again (Ari+Cullen; platonic sleeping together!)

so hold my hand, consign me not to darkness (Ari; her faith is the core of who she is and, for the first time, Andraste isn’t there; post-Trespasser)

raise your fists up to the sky (Kylie/Krem; it’s Krem’s first day with the Chargers and there’s a naked elf in the middle of camp)

every demon wants his pound of flesh (Krem+Bull; Krem was in the Fade with the Inquisitor and the fear demon had some Things To Say To Him)

black dove (Anaya) & strange little girl (Anaya+Dagna) & dissolving clouds (Anaya+Cullen) (because neurodivergent Inquisitor, friendship, blossoming romance, and three very different takes on blood magic)

skeletons (Zahara+Bull; she is saarebas, he is Ben-Hassrath, and language is important)

children shouldn’t play with dead things (Juliette Amell; she’s always had an easier time with the dead than the living; cw for bugs)

a sorta fairytale (Josephine/Cassandra; flower shop & tattoo parlor AU; 8k)

Mass Effect Trilogy:

gonna set your flag on fire (Nora Vakarian, Liv/Garrus, James/Liara, Liv+Liara, Livfam; action! Humor! Angst! Worldbuilding! OCs!; I am Super Normal about this fic too; I promise everything’s okay in the end, promise, even though it isn’t written yet; Nora is an N3 and has an inactive control chip in her head. She and her team are ordered to investigate a Cerberus facility. It goes, shall we say, awry; 40k)

anthem (Liv/Garrus, Hannah/Zaeed, Liv+Liara; eight months is a long time without each other; angst with a happy ending (I promise); post-Destroy; 13k)

holy ground & dress (Liv/Garrus; ficlets from the night he gets sworn in as Councilor)

brightly shone the moon at night (Liv, Liv+Liara, Liv/Garrus, Livfam; five Christmases in Olivia Shepard’s life; 5k)

the pieces of gold, they light up your eyes & now we’re alone, now we’re alive (Liv/Garrus; the evolution of a relationship)

fighting is said to have reached palaven (Liv/Garrus; please, please let him be alive)

and some things you just can’t speak about (Quentus+Nico; the war)

‘cause i know that it’s delicate (Liv/Garrus; pre-wedding!)

nosce te ipsum (Nico; he likes boys and fanfiction and he didn’t think he’d get his little italicized oh moment)

i will write you love letters if you tell me to (Liv/Garrus; Hannah gives him one of Liv’s notebooks before he goes off to Omega; Garrus does the only thing he can think of with it)

i really need you (Liv/Garrus; James POV during the reunion scene in Priority: Palaven)

you look really tired (Liv/Garrus, Liv+Liara; post-Thessia, Olivia’s not doing well)

hey, so, ground rules (Liv+Zaeed; it’s a lot weird now that he’s dating her mom)

and all the scars you bear are from a previous war (Liv+Quentus; Mom!Liv)

you can hear it in the silence (Liv/Garrus; just a moment, post-war)

this all started because of a bad day (Liv/Garrus; from first meetings to matching rings)

combat, i’m ready for combat & turn on your favorite nightlight (Hannah; she’s a civilian and her daughter isn’t, and she’s bound and determined to know what Liv goes through when her boots hit the ground; Hannah, Zaeed, Liv, and Garrus hit up Armax)

four quarians who never made it back to the fleet (and one who did) (kinda what it says on the tin, honestly. Oh, Tali’s in this!)

everyone’s lost, the battle is won (Evangeline; somewhat predictably, my experiment in getting as many of my team killed as possible resulted in Feelings About It)

across the sky (Susan/Liara; how to make the Control ending feel good)

and yours is in red underlined (Vanessa; The Illusive Man has pissed her off for the last time)

i’m headed straight for the castle (Vanessa; renegade control ending; kneel before your queen)

Mass Effect Andromeda:

for saviours (Tori; ten scenes from a pre-Andromeda life; 10k)

ringing joyful and triumphant (Tori/Liam/Jaal; just some morning fluff)

the thing with the baby angara (Tori/Liam/Jaal; thinking about the future)

the undone and the divine (Tori/Liam/Jaal; the lone single solitary explicit fic on here, give it props for that alone; Liam gets absolutely railed by his partners. That’s it. That’s the fic.)

you’re like the thing that makes the universe explode (Sara Ryder/Suvi, Drack; kid, the only people who don’t know that you like Suvi are people who haven’t met you and Suvi)

this one’s for the torn down, the experts at the fall (Tori+Garrus; one night in the intersection of Victoria Ryder and Archangel; maybe they’re better friends than they both thought)

The West Wing:

a great revelation sigh (CJ; she’s Chief of Staff; ten steps to the apocalypse; the apocalypse source probably didn’t age well, heads up)

it’s in my blood and i won’t give up ‘cause it’s running through my veins (Amy+Andi; it’s Election Day in the future and Amy has nothing to do)

Grey’s Anatomy:

dropsonde (the singers in a lower choir remix) (Addison/Alex, Derek/Meredith, Addison+Derek, Addison+Mark, Mark+Derek; the one that kicked off all the remixes; absolutely off the rails from canon somewhere in S3; budding romances and kidfic and my theory about people being storms and lighthouses; 40k)

scarlet city (Mark/Addison, Burke/Cristina; film noir gangster and detective AU; Addison’s the gangster, Burke’s the detective; literally everyone I could fit into this fic shows up; also Denny is comic relief; 18k)

Misc:

access records (Star Trek Voyager; Naomi Wildman’s holodeck access for the past week; worldbuilding!)

in this twilight our choices seal our fate (the song in the house of night remix) (SVU; Olivia/Elliot; rated M; on the rise and fall of partnership; probably a little too much religious imagery but what the hell else am I gonna do with a minor in religious studies?; 4k)

the end of days job (Leverage; Parker+Eliot+Hardison; the apocalypse job, basically; this one ages well!)

let the only sound be the overflow (D&D; Calia/Kelpie/Edal, aka ot3: fathoms below; the ocean is big and they are not)

we are golden stars above silver seas (we hear echoes from another galaxy) (Calvin & Hobbes; Calvin+Susie; throughout all those years, she never gave up on him; this one went viral on tumblr [LINK] and I cleaned it up for the AO3 version)

lift her, pull her, from the orchids (Grace and Frankie; Grace/Frankie; the one where I invoke the spelling bee)

rocket queens (Babylon 5/Pacific Rim; Susan Ivanova/Talia Winters; look, they’re jaeger pilots, I really don’t know what else to tell you)

the great gig in the sky (Battlestar Galactica; Six; rebirth is painful, she forgets this sometimes)

#screams hits post #s:words

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rafesbby · 8 days

Text

Right in Front of Me

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!kook!reader

Warnings: language, slight-cheating, kissing

Word Count: 1.0k+

Summary: Rafe and you have been best friends for as long as you can remember. What happens when one night he confesses his love for you?

A/N: Here's a simple one to get back into the swing of things. I'm gonna try and write more :)

----------

"Don't worry, if it's going horribly just text me and I'll save you." You chuckle as you watch Rafe, your best friend, get ready for his date.

"Can you save me even if it's going good?" Rafe replies, shooting you a smirk.

"No, tonight's a very important night for you. If this goes well, your days as a third wheel to me and Topper are over." You smile at him while you help adjust his tie.

Rafe and his date were going to River's Edge, a well-known and fancy restaurant that was popular amongst the kooks. You had suggested it when he said he had a date and he agreed.

"I regret saying yes to all of this." Rafe grimaces. "I'm putting way too much effort into it."

"Well, I think Nora will appreciate it." You look Rafe up and down. "She's one lucky girl."

"Yeah yeah, whatever." Rafe rolls his eyes. "Don't forget to save me later."

----------

It was around 8:30pm when your phone went off, no doubt that it was Rafe. You set down the book you were reading and grab your phone. Rafe's name along with a brief message was visible.

Rafe- save me

Y/n- that bad?

Rafe- save me now

Rafe- please

Y/n- okay I got you

You can't help but giggle as you dial Rafe's number. You really weren't expecting to have to rescue him this early, the date had only been going for an hour. When Rafe picks up you can hear a relieved exhale.

"Hey, Rafe. I know you're super busy right now, but I really need you to come home." You say jokingly.

"Shit, I'm actually in the middle of something. Will you be okay by yourself?" Rafe's acting sounds so believable you can't help but roll your eyes.

"No, I'm afraid I really need you." You can hear Rafe apologize and his chair scoot across the floor.

"Okay, I'll be right there." Rafe says rushed as he hangs up immediately.

----------

Fifteen minutes later Rafe is sitting on your bed spilling all the details about his unsuccessful date.

"Poor Rafe." You climb behind him on the bed and start rubbing his shoulders. "I'm sorry tonight was so weird. I thought she would be a good one." You frown.

Rafe's back leans into you as you continue his massage. From this angle you can see the soft smile on his lips and his closed eye lids.

"There are no good ones." Rafe groans. "The only good one is taken."

Your hands pause on his shoulders. His eyes open and glance up at you.

"What do you mean?" You ask. The mood in the room quickly shifts and Rafe sits up.

"Y/n...I'm tired of these stupid fucking dates every weekend when the girl I really want is right in front of me." Rafe turns around so he's facing you.

"Rafe, you know I'm with Topper. You know I would never do anything to hurt him." A panic swallows you whole.

"I'm not asking you to. I just want to know if you feel it too." Rafe brings his hand up to your cheek.

"Of course I do, Rafe. But that doesn't mean I don't love Topper, because I do." Rafe's hand drops away from your face and he looks away.

"Do you really think you belong with him?" Rafe's tone starts to sound angry. "You guys are horrible for each other."

"Rafe, where is this coming from?"

"I love you, Y/n. And I'm not going to apologize for it." When Rafe stands up, so do you.

He's waiting for you to say something. But you don't know what to say in this moment. You and Topper have been dating for almost two years. But you couldn't deny the attraction and feelings you felt towards Rafe.

Rafe reaches up and tucks a strand of your fallen hair behind your ear.

"Please say something. Anything. I just want to know what you're thinking." Both of Rafe's hands are cupped around your face, forcing you to look at him.

"I love you too." As soon as the words leave your mouth, you close your eyes. You hear Rafe's sigh of relief and then feel his forehead against your own.

"Y/n, thank fucking God. I don't know what I would have done if I didn't hear you say that." His thumbs sweep back and forth against your cheeks, his forehead still connected with yours, and his lips so close you could feel his breath.

A few seconds later and you feel Rafe's lips softly reach your own. He's gentle at first, almost hesitate as if to see if you would push away and resist. But you don't. You couldn't. You secretly have been waiting for this moment for years. The kiss becomes more fervent, more needy. Rafe's tongue meets yours and you get lost in the feel of his mouth on yours.

Your hands reach up to tug at his hair while Rafe's start to travel down your body. When he reaches the top of your shorts and begins to pull down, you step away.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this." Topper's face appears in your head. The guilt going straight to your stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Hey, it's okay." Rafe pulls you back in, wrapping his arms around your body. "I get it." He gives you a reassuring smile.

"Thank you for understanding." You rest your head on his chest, breathing in his sweet, intoxicating scent. Rafe kisses your forehead before picking you up and placing you on your bed.

"I should go. You need rest." Rafe begins to leave but in this moment all you want is his company.

"Rafe?" He stops and looks at you, his eyebrow raised in question as you continue. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

He smiles and shakes his head before making his way back and throwing himself on the bed.

"You don't have to ask me twice."

You reach up and switch the lamp off. Then you scoot closer to Rafe so you guys are facing each other.

"Thank you, Rafe." You kiss him one final time before snuggling into his neck. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, my love." His finger rubs gentle circles on your arm as you drift off to sleep. "I love you so much."

#obx #outerbanks #rafe cameron #rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n

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lunartadpole · 1 year

Text

1 ¦ 2

inspired by this post :))

(Tell me baby, do you recognize me?)

Eddie graduates by the skin of his teeth - and with the help of some pity points from the higher ups at Hawkins High School, a makeshift apology for the town-wide manhunt for him - and he is left with the age old question that plagues most, if not all, graduates: what now?

He doesn't know what to do with himself, doesn't know what he's good at. Sure, there's music, he can play the guitar decently but he doesn't know where to take that. And that leaves him in a bit of a slump. His whole life Eddie has been tethered to this town, itching for some grand escape or for something to call him, begging him to chase it down. He's wanted to get the hell outta dodge for so long, he never actually thought he'd see the day where he'd just…go.

So he graduates. He hobbles off that stage, still in his crutches as his legs still aren't fully able to support his weight again, and it doesn't feel nearly as good as he dreamed of, though he guesses that once one looks death in the eye, fights off hoards of literal, real life monsters, menial things like finishing school with possibly the lowest grades imaginable matter less than one thought. And he stays, in Hawkins, just for another month or so. Just until inspiration hits.

He gets a job alongside Steve and Robin at Family Video, because if he wants out he's gonna need the money, and becomes a natural third to their duo. They work many shifts together, mostly mucking about to pass the hours; arguing about movies, laughing at annoying customers, gossiping about Steve's failure of a dating life. It's nice. Eddie finds something in that, friendship. Not that he didn't have friends before all this interdimensional mess, but there's a difference here at Family Video.

There's a difference with Steve.

Eddie never thought he'd see the day where he actually liked Steve Harrington. But he soon discovered that they had a lot more in common than Eddie would have ever thought; and it's not that Steve suddenly likes D&D, or that Eddie gets a newfound appreciation of Basketball, it's that they're both adrift in the ocean of life, aimlessly floating with no direction, no plan on where to go.

Eddie stays for another month. His friendship with Steve only grows when he invites both Eddie and Wayne to stay at his house. Prior to this they'd been living out of a motel half an hour outside of town, thanks to their humble trailer getting ripped in half when the earth split open. Eddie declines at first, but Steve is insistent.

"It's not like I don't have the space," Steve shrugs. "Big house, gotta fill it with something. Why not you?"

The Munsons move into Loch Nora. Wayne is icey at first, unsure about this whole arrangement and untrusting of the Harrington boy despite Eddie's insistence that Steve is not like his parents. But soon enough, Wayne and Steve hit it off and it's like they've been friendly for years. Eddie walks in on them, more often than not, watching football and screaming at Steve's state-of-the-art TV, sharing a beer and a smoke on Steve's porch. Wayne catches Eddie lingering in doorways, just watching, and flashes him a knowing smile.

"He's one of the good ones, that boy," Wayne comments one night. They're watching Steve in the kitchen from the dining room while he cooks, in his absolute element. There are times where Eddie just, sits and watches Steve when he's preparing dinner; the concentration on the boys face, reading recipes written in feminine handwriting out of a battered notebook, and the utter joy when things go his way, is enough to bring a smile to Eddie's lips and a warm feeling through his body.

Eddie felt that warmth then, watching Steve hum to a song he's been trying to remember for the past week, and it's been driving Eddie up the walls hearing that same poppy tune over and over - but it hasn't really. "Yeah," Eddie agrees with a nod, "He is."

The summer breeze rolls in quicker than usual.

Eddie spends his time in the blistering Hawkins heat in the pool, surrounded by his friends. He doesn't mind that, despite Robin's constant begging and his own teasing to show off Harrington's skill in the water that earned him the title of Captain of the Swim Team, Steve never gets in the water with them; he seems perfectly happy to lounge on the deck chairs with Nancy. Sometimes, when Eddie looks over at them, the two are staring off at the pool with some glazed over expression, the very same he has when he remembers the sound of Chrissy Cunningham's bones snapping. So he doesn't ask, knowing that Steve will tell when he's ready.

When they're not in the pool, they're inside with the aircon blasted, watching movies, eating ice cream. Sometimes - read: very often - Steve opens his home to the kids, who eagerly accept under the pretense of continuing whatever campaign Eddie's been cooking up. Steve takes the gang on drives to anywhere and everywhere, and sometimes, late a night when everyone's gone off back to their own houses, he and Eddie will go on their own personal trips; down long, straight roads with the music - which they bicker excessively about - blasted up as high as the car will allow and the windows rolled down. Eddie sticks his head out the window like a dog and Steve will tell him just that. The feeling of wind on his face provides him that escape he longed for, reminds him where he wants to be, gone.

But Hawkins in fall is beautiful, Eddie did always love watching the leaves change colour. The summer breeze disappears and is replaced with that wild, sharp chill that always made his muscles ease up. But something changes in Steve during the autumn. He quietens, and the nail studded bat makes it return beside the front door. Eddie never presses, instead buying candy in bulk and renting scary movie after scary movie for them to watch leading up to Halloween. Steve falls asleep during one of these movie nights, unconsciously tossing and turning until things almost get violent and he wakes in a cold sweat. Eddie is there to hold him, to wipe his tears while he opens up about everything; Barbra Holland, the pool, Nancy Wheeler and the word bullshit, the Russians. And Eddie just holds him while he melts in his arms, the heat of Steve's body only adding to that warm, fuzzy feeling churning in Eddie's stomach. He does something brave that night.

Steve and Eddie share their first kiss watching Micheal Myers terrorise Jamie Lee Curtis.

Halloween comes and goes. That chill in the air turns to a bite of frost. Eddie never did like going on long journeys in the cold weather.

Winter is spent getting drunk and getting high. Because there's not much else to do. The town experienced a bad storm that year, leaving Steve and the Munsons locked in Loch Nora for a week and a bit. They build a snowman in the front yard, have snowball fights with Robin and Nancy and Jonathan. Steve makes a killer hot chocolate.

He discovers that Christmas at the Harrington house is one of beauty when Steve puts up the decorations. Hundreds of Christmas lights light up the street at night, and don't even get Eddie started on the tree - huge and intricately decorated with at least a hundred ornaments, each with their own desiccated place. Steve hangs them up out of muscle memory, like he's done this a thousand times. It's during this time Wayne starts to get antsy about their living situation, concerned about what happens when Steve's parents come home for the holiday, but again Steve reassures them.

"They're not coming this year, so don't worry about it."

They worry about something else, but they never ask.

When it gets too cold, Eddie steals Steve's sweaters, Steve curls into the warmth of Eddie's body at night and Wayne lights the fire so the boys can huddle around the fireplace. Eddie doesn't think he'll ever forget the sight of Steve's head resting in his lap, face tinted with the soft glow of the flame. Eddie runs a hand through the infamous hair, untangling any knots with his fingers. It's soft. Eddie doesn't think he'll forget that. Steve gets Eddie a new guitar for Christmas, the one he's been talking about all year; that almost makes Eddie ashamed of what he got Steve, a mixtape full of the songs they listened to on their night drives in summer, but that shame disappears when Steve's eyes light up brighter that any of the lights hanging on the tree. They kiss under conveniently placed mistletoe. The snow soon thaws and Eddie weaves crowns out of blooming flowers for his first boyfriend.

Seasons come and go. Days blend into weeks which blend into months. And the more time Eddie and Steve spend together, the less he thinks about leaving. The year ends with a kiss at a small gathering of friends. The spring season is in full bloom before he knows it, then summer, then fall, then winter, and through it all Steve is still at his side. There's an 'I love you' somewhere stowed in Eddie's chest, and he tries to find the bravery to say it to Steve any chance he gets - when he nurses Eddie back to health from a common cold, when he makes Eddie's coffee in the morning, when he holds Eddie close after a nightmare. Steve has told those three little words more times than Eddie can count, but he just…can't get the words out. They're in there though, waiting.

He thinks he's going to say it, the day he drives to the store to pick up some groceries, one December morning in '87. He has it planned, a quiet night in with Steve's favourite meal homemade by Eddie, treating his boy. Then, as he's scanning the aisle for the ingredients, he hears it. That all too familiar sound. Whispers. The hair on the back of his neck stands up, like someone's watching him, and sure enough when he turns there is. A small group of five, look to be around his age, sneering, mumbling amongst themselves. And suddenly it's March, 1986, and people he's never spoken too are demanding his arrest, calling him a murder. Suddenly it's Summer '86, and some punks trashed the front window of Family Video, the words hunt the freak painted over it.

Suddenly, Eddie realises what fucking time it is and what time he's already lost. His skin begins to itch and a scowl finds its way on his face as he recalls his comfort over the past year, his complacency. He leaves the store without buying anything, racing down the road to Loch Nora desperate to get the fuck out of there as soon as he possible can. He doesn't care that he doesn't have anything to chase, doesn't care that he can't do anything yet, Eddie can't stay in this town anymore; not when the people still torment him, look at him like he's Satan himself and cower in fear.

He throws his things in a bag, gathers the decent amount of money he's managed to save up, and just as he's about to leave he notices that the Christmas decorations are up again, that perfect fucking tree towering over him a constant reminder of the part of himself he willingly gave away. He thinks of Steve, bitterly, liar, and how they're not the same at all. Because Steve might be content with being lost in the ocean, no way out, no plan, no path. But Eddie will not fucking waste away in a town that hates him.

He thinks of Steve, lovingly, darling, but it's not enough. It would never be enough.

Eddie writes a note for Wayne and Wayne only. He's gone before the ice can thaw.

December, 1891

Eddie Munson is walking home to his apartment when he sees Nancy Wheeler.

He's got a good thing going on here in New York. Though it was rough at the start. He drove aimlessly for weeks, sleeping in any dingy motel he could afford, but after he found a severed finger underneath his pillow he decided that sleeping in his van was the safer, and cheaper, option.

He camped out in Ohio for a month or three, working at a roadside dinner washing dishes. Then it was on to Kentucky, which lasted an extremely short while, before North Carolina for the summer. New York was never in the plan, not that he had one, but something so far away from small town Indianna sang his name and there he went.

It was…different to say the least. Eddie had never seen so many people in his entire life, it was easy to get lost in the crowd. For the first four months, he was entirely alone, working three jobs of stocking shelves, wiping down tables and bartending at clubs just to get by. But that didn't bother him, not in the slightest. Because he may have been living out of his van, but at least here people didn't cower away from him. At least here there were others like him. Other 'freaks'.

It's not like Eddie didn't know there where other gay people in the world, but christ sometimes it hard to remember your not the only one when middle aged women are shielding their children from you, and dickheads in school carve those ugly words into your locker every morning.

It was these others who let him crash on their couches when winter rolled around and the van became uninhabitable. Then eventually, it was these others who let him move in permanently. They were like him, in more ways than just the obvious. They too had nowhere else to go, no plan, no path, but desperate to find one. Lost in the ocean and trying to swim.

Things started looking up at the beginning of 1989. All that time, alone in the back of a van, gave Eddie lots of time to thing; about what he was good at, what he wanted to do with himself. And, as it turned out, years of scrawling down D&D campaign ideas had paid off, because Eddie was quite the story teller. And after months of rejection letters and disappointments, one literary journal gave him a publishing deal.

He wrote short stories, mainly, fantasy ones of course. He wrote of dragons and monsters, of evil wizards and an unlikely band of heroes. He wrote of a prince, who was brave as he was kind; who loved his kids despite his insistence that they were nothing more than a nuisance in his life; who was handsome to boot and had hair like silk.

Who loved the local bard when the town roared he was a witch.

…that story might be just for him.

And sure, of course there were times he felt a tad homesick. He writes letters to Wayne from time to time, just so his Uncle knows he's okay, but he never gives his address for him to write back, he doesn't know why. Maybe he's scared that Wayne will come find him, drag him back to that shithole town, or maybe it's because he doesn't want a reminder of the town that hated him.

(Or maybe, Eddie doesn't want to know what's changed in his absence. Doesn't want to know how everyone is, how well they're doing without him. How a certain someone is doing without him.)

Which is why, when he sees Nancy Wheeler walking towards him, he freezes.

Nancy hasn't changed since the day Eddie saw her last. Her hair may be a bit longer, a bit more unruly, but her eyes still have that curious glint to them, and her smile just shows her cunning intelligence. And she's still beautiful.

"Eddie?" She says, disbelief flooding her tone. "Oh my god, is that you?"

Dumbly, Eddie stands there, frozen among the crowd of people bustling to get to wherever it is they're going. Nancy fixes him with a look, taking the sight of it in and her the smile on her face grows. She runs forward and wraps him up in a hug, letting Eddie get a smell of her lavender perfume that also hasn't changed since '86. And just like that, all other concerns he had fade away.

He hugs her back, burying his face in her curls. "Nance? Oh Jesus, what the hell are you doing here?!"

When she pulls away her eyes are fiery. "I could ask you the same thing." She jabs his chest with a pointed finger. But her gaze momentarily softens. "It's so good to see you. Are you busy right now? I just got off work, I was gonna go for some coffee?"

Eddie smiles, knowing damn well he's about to get the interrogation of his life. "I'd love that."

The coffee shop, at least, provides some much needed warmth from the winter weather. New York somehow gets far colder than Indianna during Christmas, and Eddie never did well in the cold.

Nancy buys him a coffee. He can tell by the way she holds herself that she wants to demand where he's been and why he left, but she won't ask. Not yet. Eddie's grateful for that.

"I live here now," she says instead, "Well, temporarily, so far. I got a paid internship at The Times as an investigative journalist. Hoping they give me the job soon."

"That's incredible!" Eddie exclaims. "God, I wish I knew you were here. I would've let you buy me a coffee sooner."

She stirs her tea with a spoon stiffly. "Yeah maybe you should've left a number before you took off. Or, well, anything."

And yeah. Okay. He deserves that. But ouch Wheeler.

He clears his throat. "So, uhm, is Jonathan here with you?"

"Uh, no." Nancy's eyes crinkle in a way where Eddie feels like he's missed out on something. "We broke up."

"Shit, I'm so sorry I shouldn't have-"

She silences him with a wave of her hand. "No, don't. It's fine. It happened a while ago, just after you left actually." She coughs. "I'm seeing someone else now. But hey, what about you? How have you been?"

Eddie tells her about everything. About the severed finger in the motel, about sleeping in his van, about working three jobs, about his writing. He tells her more than he means too, things he hadn't even admitted to himself yet, but Nancy always brought that out in people.

"I won't even lie, Nancy, I've been missing home so much." At this stage, they've been talking for two hours, the cafe is slowly emptying and the sun is slowly setting. "Like, the city is great, I fucking love it here, but I just…" he trails off, not knowing how to describe the gaping void in his chest when he thinks about Hawkins.

They sit in silence for a bit. Then, Nancy says, "Yeah, we all miss you too. Especially the kids- sorry, not allowed to say kids anymore. Mike keeps busting my ass every time I call him that."

"Shit, yeah. What age are they now? Eighteen?"

Nancy nods. Eddie leans back in his chair, feeling incredibly old.

"It's true, you know. They miss you. A lot. Dustin tried to get Hopper to file a missing persons report. They thought you'd been kidnapped or something."

Shame paints Eddie's cheeks pale. He never did think about the kids' reactions to him leaving without so much as a goodbye.

Nancy huffs a laugh, "Mike took over your little club too. Though I think Erica does the whole game master thing."

Erica Sinclair, god he misses that little spitfire.

"Lucas is captain for the Tigers as well. Oh and Joyce and Hopper? Yeah, they're married now."

"No way!"

"Uh-huh," Nancy's curls bounce as she nods. "Had their wedding in July last year. And Steve is-"

Nancy Wheeler does something then that Eddie has never seen her do. She falters. She doesn't even try to hide the obvious hurt and hate she has for Eddie in that moment, her eyes glare daggers at him. He thinks she's about to rip him a new one, list off all the reasons he's a shitty person in alphabetical order, and leave him, alone forever.

Instead,

"You should come back. For Christmas I mean" she says. "We've all been doing this thing now for the last couple years where we all get together, it's great really. I think everyone would love to see you."

"Everyone?" he asks, hesitantly. A picture flashes in his mind: a boy's head in his lap, face illuminated by a flickering fire.

"Everyone."

Later, when Eddie's packing his suitcase, he'll blame his decision on peer pressure and how he knew if he said no, Nancy would just continue to wear him down until he agreed. But deep down, he knows that it was because the thought of going back to Hawkins- no, back to his family , filled him with that familiar warmth he hadn't felt in years.

"Yeah." he deflates into the chair. "OK, sure. It'll be fun."

Nancy smirks. Never a good sign.

#might do a p2 to this but idk yet???#last christmas by wham! got me feeling shit #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #stranger things ficlet #Nancy Wheeler #Robin Buckley

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avacoleman · 3 months

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when the lights go out || a firstprince fic

summary: Henry Fox’s career is in crisis and his dating life isn’t faring much better either. After a chance encounter with a charming man becomes memorable for all the wrong reasons, Henry throws himself into his next assignment: writing the memoir of a beloved C-list actor. Henry, however, knows Alex best for the role he played as his random, awkward one-night stand. Henry enters their professional partnership keen on keeping their relationship just that. But after Henry confesses that their hookup was less than spectacular, Alex concots an arrangement that Henry is unable to resist. In addition to ghostwriting Alex’s life story, Henry will teach him a thing or two about satisfying a man. As they spend months out on the road together, they must decide if the connection between them is yet another story worth telling.

chapter 2/8 || rated e || read on ao3 *updates every tues. and fri. *

Portland, OR Rose City Comic Con Day 1 [Unknown number] hey, i hope you’ve made it safely [Unknown number] in case it wasn’t clear, this is alex. i’ll catch you later. maybe we can grab a bite or something after today’s panel? Henry saves Alex’s number and confirms that yes, he’s arrived in one piece and would be happy to join Alex after the event. All of this is still wrapped in impossibility for Henry. Even though he’d been fully briefed on the tour and signed his contract, the fact that he’s now embarking on a multi-city tour with Alex hasn’t sunk in yet. The six and a half hour long flight didn’t do much to lessen the surrealness and now that he’s here at the venue, Henry doesn’t see an end in sight to the feeling. The convention center is, in a word, daunting. For as much as Henry loves Lord of the Rings and Star Wars, he can’t say his appreciation for the franchises has ever been this devout or even close to it. All around him people are decked out in elaborate, truly remarkable costumes. Some are easy to ID like Doctor Who and Marvel characters. But others are so obscure that Henry can’t even hazard a guess. It’s overwhelming but also kind of intriguing too, seeing people be wholly themselves and embrace the things they love. He forces himself to focus up as he grabs a directory map of the convention’s floor plan for reference before going up to one of the booths for his credentials. With his badge secured, he looks at the map again and makes his way over to where Alex’s panel is being held in one of the larger rooms. It takes him some time to find it; the convention center is practically a maze. But he spots a blowup outside the door clearly marking the panel, Supernatural in the Mainstream. By the time he gets inside, the room is packed and the excited chatter is practically tangible.

Henry spots a few Crescent Valley fans in t-shirts referencing the show. Admittedly Henry still hasn’t started the series, but before he hopped his flight out of JFK, Pez spent the vast majority of their last few days together giving Henry a pretty substantial rundown of the essentials, including some cast trivia. Most notable from the recap was learning that Alex had dated one of his co-stars, Nora Holleran, during season two. Henry decided it was none of his business– only after doing a Google search on her.

Even with the knowledge that the show resonated with so many people while it aired, it’s strange to reconcile it with the fact that the guy he met on a whim at a bar is part of such a cultural force.

After a few moments, a woman takes to the stage, introducing herself as the moderator. The audience is ravenous as she introduces the panelists and Henry almost goes deaf from the screams Alex earns when his name is called.

Henry studies Alex as he crosses the stage, waving to fans and putting a hand to his heart in appreciation for the warm reception. The large monitors on either side of the stage zoom in on his face and the sincere gratitude Alex feels is plain as day in his eyes.

“Alright, let’s get started, shall we?” the moderator says to kick things off.

Alex in his element during the panel, magnetic really. Even though he’s one of four panelists, it’s so clear to see how he effortlessly draws people in.

Henry takes out his notebook, hoping to glean something in any of Alex’s responses to the questions directed at him that can be a kernel of an idea they can turn into the core of this book.

He can’t shake Alex’s words during their lunch with Zahra, the way it seemed that Alex sincerely wanted his book to be about something real.

Vanity cash grab celeb autobiographies were a dime a dozen. Henry figured for people who lived so heavily in the spotlight, it probably felt like the natural progression of things. But with Alex and his team being so adamant in their search, scouring through profiles in hopes of finding the right person to pen Alex’s story, he had to believe this book would actually stand for something other than more dollars in their pockets.

There isn’t much that Henry is able to take away for research other than noting the way people gravitate towards Alex. More than once, he’d actually seen people in the audience quite literally shift to the edge of their seats as he spoke.

When the panel is over, Henry fights against the current of attendees to make his way backstage. He presents his badge to the man at the entrance who gives it a once-over before deeming it to be authentic and ushering Henry through the curtain.

Alex is easy to spot, holding court just as he’d done on stage before, this time with a small audience of just the moderator and his fellow panelists. He’s got a water bottle in his hands, preparing to take a sip when he catches sight of Henry instantly and politely excuses himself from the group.

“You survived day one. How’d you like it?” he asks.

“Your world is very different from mine, but it’s pretty cool,” Henry admits.

“Good, I'm glad to hear it.”

There’s a lull as Alex looks him over and Henry suddenly feels oddly self-conscious and small. Seeing this side of Alex, the sheer star power, is a bit overwhelming.

“You're done for the day, right? I took another look at the itinerary this morning. You’ve got the signing tomorrow, yes?”

Alex nods. “Yeah, I’m all yours starting now.” The man’s face instantly flushes. “You know what I mean.”

Henry offers up a smile that feels more like a white flag.

“We should head out,” Alex says.

He moves away and heads back to the others in the room, making his parting remarks before touching Henry’s elbow and guiding him to a set of double doors he hadn’t initially noticed when he entered. Henry is treated to a glimpse of the convention center’s underbelly, the private exit that leads them to a secluded area outside on the street level.

Henry is sure it’s probably all in his mind, but now that it’s back to just him and Alex, away from the adoring fans and bright lights of a main stage, the man standing before him now is someone else entirely again. Henry wonders if he’ll ever be able to wrap his head around the two versions of Alex that exist in this world.

“There’s a park not too far from here. Do you want to walk around for a bit?” Alex asks.

It’s a random ask but Henry is glad for it. He’s not sure what to do with himself as they try and find their rhythm around each other.

They make it to the park a few minutes later and walk alongside the edge of a small pond.

Henry turns to attempt starting a conversation and it seems as if Alex had the same thought too; they bump arms immediately and both rush to apologize.

Henry sighs and stops walking.

“I have to ask. Are you still sure about this?”

Alex’s eyebrows furrow.

“What do you mean? This walk?”

Henry crosses his arms and gives him a dry look.

“Ah. You being on this project then,” Alex says.

Henry nods.

Alex looks at him. “Of course I am. I won’t lie, it is a bit of a mindfuck when I stop and really consider it. I’m still trying to figure out how to be around you. But my opinion on your work? My decision to collaborate with you? That hasn’t changed. Not one bit. So, yeah, we had a good night. Great conversation and even better sex,” he muses. “But I can forget it if you can.”

Henry snorts out a laugh in surprise that he quickly tries in vain to cover up as a sneeze. Alex, rightfully, doesn’t buy it though Henry wishes desperately that he would. He hates the way Alex’s face falls.

“Are you…do you mean you didn’t enjoy it? That I wasn’t…,” Alex trails off.

Henry’s basic functions betray him and his mouth merely opens and closes like a landlocked fish struggling for breath.

In the end, no response is an answer within itself and Henry watches the varying degrees of what can only be described as horror play out across Alex’s face.

Goodbye tour, goodbye contract, Henry thinks. All gone before it even truly got started.

For a man that writes for a living, Henry falls short on what to say. How could he possibly salvage this now?

“I…it…,” he flounders.

Bang up job, Henry, he internally chides.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my fucking god,” Alex whispers to himself. “Crap, that’s why you snuck out then, isn’t it?”

Henry winces. While that is an astute, wholly accurate description of what he did last week, hearing it so plainly — and from Alex’s lips no less— just makes it sound that much harsher.

“Maybe it was just an off night. It happens sometimes. But look, we don’t have to talk about it. Like you said, we can both forget it ever happened. Today can be our official day one.”

Alex shakes his head, refusing to let it go.

“No. What didn’t you like about it?”

“Alex, come on. Seriously. We don’t have to get into it.”

Alex takes a step closer.

“Please? I want to know what I did wrong.”

Henry frowns.

“That’s harsh; don’t frame it like that. Just think of it as…areas of improvement.”

Alex crosses his arms. “That isn’t much better, but I guess you’re right.” Alex pauses. “Okay then, what do I need to work on?”

Henry groans and looks up at the sky.

“I…how is this happening right now?” Henry mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead and turning his eyes to the water.

He gets a wild fantasy of jumping into the pond and hiding in its depths to avoid this conversation. Could he hold his breath long enough to wait Alex out? He’d be willing to test that hypothesis if it meant even five seconds away from this talk.

When he looks back at Alex, the man’s eyes are unwavering and Henry’s instantly transported to the night in question. To how wide eyed and earnest Alex had been after they had sex and he checked in. It makes something in his chest crack a little, enough to put a hole in the wall he hoped to build around the truth.

“Well, the handjob was a bit…rigid. And when you were working to open me up, that felt a touch awkward. And then when you were actually inside me, it was rushed and uh, a tad repetitive. You were enthusiastic, which was nice, but I couldn’t quite mirror that.”

He hopes his answer is diplomatic, but he knows there’s simply no easy way to say any of this.

Alex’s brows knit together deeply and it feels like a lifetime before he speaks again.

“So…sex. You’re telling me I’m just straight up bad at sex as a whole?”

Henry groans and slaps the palm of his hand against his forehead.

“Like I said, it could have been an off night. We were drinking, we were both overexcited. The room was cursed or perhaps I really was, remember? There’s a lot at play here.”

Alex is quiet again, too quiet for Henry’s likings. Henry awkwardly scratches the side of his nose and rocks slightly on the balls of his feet as Alex stares off at nothing before turning his gaze back on Henry.

“I’ll take this into consideration. Thank you, Henry. I appreciate your honesty.”

It’s clinical and closed off and Henry wishes he could take back the last few minutes. But the truth is out there, the ball squarely in Alex’s court and Henry can’t help the sinking feeling that he’s about to lose it all.

~*~*~

Rose City Con

Day 2

Much like yesterday, Alex continues to be incredible with fans. It’s only a signing today, but Alex’s energy is on one hundred for each and every person that comes his way. He poses for pictures and makes good conversation with fans. He asks them questions, learns a bit about each of them. It’s clear to see the knack he has for making everyone feel like they’re having a unique, truly personal interaction with him.

Several people come up to him already in tears and overwhelmed, but Alex doesn’t seem fazed by it at all. Henry is impressed with the way Alex puts them all at ease in no time, cracking jokes as he signs merch.

Henry has no clue how Alex manages to keep his enthusiasm going for hundreds of people. The fact that this is only the first city makes his head spin. He’s not even the one engaging with people and yet Henry feels exhausted merely watching Alex in action.

Henry barely managed to sleep last night. Each time he closed his eyes, he was brought right back to the water’s edge with Alex, replaying every painstaking moment of their conversation.

There was no time to talk about it this morning. The last thing Henry wanted to do was throw a wrench in Alex’s day when he had this signing scheduled.

Looking at Alex now, it makes Henry commend actors for their ability to truly compartmentalize and put their focus where it needs to be.

Once the signing wraps and the final Crescent Valley fan is off with a bag full of newly inked merch, Henry sees the first crack in Alex’s mask. His shoulders sag a little and he rolls his neck from side to side before standing.

He hops down from the slightly raised platform he was seated on. Henry walks towards him without really thinking about it.

“Are you heading back to the hotel now?” Alex asks.

Henry cocks his head to the side, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“I was going to…unless, do you have something else you need me to shadow you on?”

Alex shakes his head.

“No. I was hoping we could talk.”

Henry looks around. There are still some stragglers from other signing lines though they’re out of earshot.

“We can go back together,” Alex says decidedly.

They take a car service back to their hotel and Henry is all too relieved once they’re outside again. The ride over was silent and heavy with the weight of whatever Alex wanted to say but couldn’t in the moment.

All that free time merely left Henry with a thirty minute window to dream up scenarios of what Alex wanted to discuss. Every single one of them ended in him being fired and pulled from the tour.

“Can we go to your room?” Alex asks.

Henry nods stiffly. He figures maybe it’s for the best. At least he’d be able to pack his things immediately after Alex chewed him out and sent him on his merry way back across the country to New York.

For now, three thousand miles don’t separate them, merely three feet as they head up the elevator.

A feeling of déjà vu sweeps through Henry, but this evening couldn’t be any more different than the night they met. Instead of crowding each other’s space and making out, they keep enough distance that their clothes don’t even come close enough to touching, never mind any other parts of them.

Henry lets them into his room and pockets his keycard as he steps inside. The door slamming shut behind Alex sounds ominous though Henry fully recognizes that’s probably his irrational brain conjuring the sense of foreboding.

“So…you wanted to talk,” he says, toeing off his shoes and setting them neatly along the wall. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

Alex nods, crossing his arms against his chest, his hands holding firm to his biceps. The positioning makes him look so small suddenly, vulnerable even. It’s such a sharp contrast to the energy Alex had with fans not too long ago.

The enigma of Alex Claremont-Diaz continued to baffle him.

“After we spoke yesterday, I took some time to think about everything. I decided to do some research,” Alex says. “I went back to past partners to see if they shared your point of view.”

This isn’t at all where Henry thought this conversation was going. All the same, he plays along, still bracing for the worst. This could all well be a roundabout way of him getting the axe.

“And what were the results of your findings?” he asks.

“They were inconclusive. They all said they never faked it with me which got me thinking again. There’s a factor to consider here that varies from the others.”

Henry's confusion must register on his face because Alex sighs and rubs his face.

“I’ve recently…uncovered something about myself that probably should have been super obvious to me. But hey, you know what they say about hindsight.”

Alex groans in frustration at himself.

“Can you, like, just face the wall or something? I’d really rather not have to look at you when I say what I’m about to.”

“Your ridiculousness truly knows no bounds, does it?” Henry huffs but Alex quickly levels him with a glare.

Henry holds his hands up in defense, knowing a lost cause when he sees one.

“Fine, fine,” he says, turning away.

He can see Alex in the reflection of the TV screen and a part of him feels guilty for not owning up to this fact when sees the tension in the man’s shoulders and watches as Alex shakes his hands as if warding something off.

“My past partners were all women. It’s come to my attention in recent weeks that I’m bi and the night we hooked up…that may or may not have been the first time I had sex with a guy. So maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t stellar at it for what I think is a pretty valid reason when you think about it.”

Henry turns back so suddenly the soles of his clothed feet scrape against the carpet. He’ll think of the rugburn later, but for now, there are bigger things to focus on.

“Alex,” he says, unsure of where to even go next. His mind is racing so quickly, it’s hard to make sense of anything right now, not with Alex’s confession laying bare before him.

“Your shoulders barely even fit through doorways so I don’t want your head getting big too,” Alex quips, “but…I wanted to be with you that night. It felt like nothing else really mattered to me except getting into bed with you because we really vibed and I wanted to see where it could go. And I know that sounds totally lame and cheesy and probably pathetic as hell or whatever, but it’s true.”

Alex rolls his eyes at himself, stuffing his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.

“This doesn’t have to be a big deal. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be a thing, period.”

“Alex,” Henry says again. This time, something in his voice must stand out because the other man finally stops talking and looks directly at him.

Henry holds his gaze for a moment, needing his words to ring clear.

“It should be a thing because it is in fact a big deal, contrary to what you might think of the matter. Coming into your sexuality, it can be a lot mentally and emotionally. Add in making physical strides…you took a major step that night. That sort of thing isn’t easy to do.”

Alex huffs out a terse laugh.

“It was a swing and a miss.”

“I’ll pretend that’s a cricket reference instead of the tragic baseball one I’m sure it was intended to be.”

Alex’s lips quirk into a reluctant smile just as Henry was hoping it would.

“The only cricket I’ll acknowledge is Jiminy,” he says.

Henry laughs. “I’ll allow that inane response. We’ve got more important things to discuss.”

Alex sighs and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, his head lobbing back as he looks up at the ceiling. All it does is expose his smooth neck and Henry looks away before the sight gets the better of him.

He follows Alex over and sits beside him, his hands resting on the comforter on either side of him. Alex doesn’t rush to speak which Henry grows a little concerned with. Alex is hardly ever quiet or still. Seeing him like this now, Henry can practically hear the whirlwind of rushing thoughts.

“I should hope that by now, you know you can be honest with me. That’s quite literally what I’m here for. Whatever’s on your chest, you can say and it’d be completely safe. Let your conscience be your guide and all that.”

“God, I hate you,” Alex says, but there’s no bite to his words, especially as he smiles softly and rests his head against Henry’s shoulder.

“Thanks for being so cool about this. Part of me is still not entirely convinced I won’t be struck dead from embarrassment later but, if I had to get news like this from anyone…I sure as shit am glad it was you.”

“You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. This just explains a lot. I’m sure you’ll only get better from here on out, now that you know.”

Alex sits up and snorts a laugh.

“And how many guys will I have to fuck until I get it just right?”

“Is that a riddle? A rhetorical question? Some kind of demented R-rated Goldilocks reference?”

“I’m genuinely asking here,” Alex says sincerely, enough to get Henry to quiet down. “What if I never figure it out and I’m just this trash partner for dudes going forward? How many is standard for it to, you know, click?”

Henry smiles sympathetically. “I can’t answer that for you.” Alex frowns, but Henry continues. “It could be ten or it could be as little as one. It’s different for everybody. You just need to get more comfortable with it.”

Alex’s brows furrow, his lips pinching slightly before he looks away. It’s almost an identical look to his expression that night when he was taking his time in touching Henry for the first time.

“What are you thinking?” Henry asks now, unlike that night. They’re well past that stage of being tentative.

Alex opens and closes his mouth before shaking his head.

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” he says, getting up from the bed and running a hand through his curls.

Henry rises to his feet too as Alex turns back to him and speaks suddenly.

“I’m hungry. You hungry? What do we think the room service situation is like here, hmm? I’m guessing high volumes of quinoa and other rabbit foods. A damn shame. I weep in Texas barbecue. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give for some good barbacoa right now,” he prattles on as he tries to sidestep Henry.

Henry gently catches hold of his arm and stops him in his tracks. Alex sighs defeatedly and looks up at him.

“Maybe we’ll get to a point where I’ll be able to read your mind, but until then, I’d really like to know what you’re thinking,” Henry says. “Please.”

Alex sighs again. “Well, when you ask so nicely.”

Henry lets go of him then and holds his gaze. The stalemate ends as Alex collects his thoughts and courage.

“I was thinking, maybe you’re onto something with that whole ‘one person’ thing. Like…I don’t know, maybe that one person could be you? You could, maybe, teach me. Show me the ropes. Or at the very least, explain how I could be better. You know, give me pointers and stuff…if you’d even go for that.”

Henry’s jaw drops slightly, his blood rushing and pounding in his ears. For all his ribbing and joking before, Henry can tell Alex is completely serious now.

“You know, I can’t read your mind either, right? You’re gonna have to say something. Ideally right this second because if I thought I was out on a limb before, I’m freefalling right now and spiraling is not cool or sexy,” Alex says.

Henry blinks twice, letting Alex’s words fully sink in.

“Wait…you’d want to…with me again?”

Alex rolls his eyes and throws his hands up.

“I feel like you deserve a redo. And besides, do you see any other hot British men around here who know my secret shame?”

Henry startles out a laugh.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed and we British men do not travel in packs.”

“Tell that to the Redcoats. British men traveling in packs,” Alex repeats and shudders. “No good ever came of that. Just open any history book at random.”

“My god, do you ever stop talking?”

“Usually when my mouth is occupied in other ways.”

Henry quirks a brow.

“Down, boy. Get your mind out of the gutter. I was absolutely talking about when I’m drinking coffee or eating food or—“

Henry puts his hands on either side of Alex’s face.

“For the love of God, can you be quiet for two seconds so that I may think?”

Alex mirrors his raised brow.

“Holy shit, you’re actually gonna consider this?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Henry shakes his head and lowers his hands. “I mean, yes, there are a hundred and one reasons why we shouldn’t. Chief among them being that we’re here for business not pleasure.”

“But seeing as though we kinda shot that to hell without meaning to…,” Alex supplies. “I freaking love loopholes. I really do.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Henry looks up at the ceiling briefly before shaking his head.

“If we do this, we’re going to have to be very, very careful. I don’t want to jeopardize our working relationship. This book has to always come first.”

“Of course.”

Henry sits once more on the bed, Alex stepping close to him with his arms crossed against his chest.

“If this were to happen, we’d need to establish some ground rules. No staying overnight in each other’s rooms. If, for any reason, one of us wants to call it off—,”

“No questions asked. No awkwardness,” Alex says. “Simply not wanting to anymore would be reason enough.”

Henry nods. “Yeah, exactly.” He purses his lips. “And it won’t be a daily thing either.”

Alex scoffs and puts his hands on his hips.

“Jesus, do you think I’m insatiable? You’re hot, but I promise you, I can in fact exercise some self-control.”

“In the short time that I’ve known you, I must admit that’s coming as quite a revelation, but I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Alex rolls his eyes and smiles softly, his face a bit thoughtful. Henry can’t look away as Alex speaks, especially as he takes note of Alex’s change in tone, the way he grows more serious and contemplative.

“I’m gonna make it up to you. That night.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Besides, this isn’t even about me. I’ll just be here to help you figure out what your future partners might like.”

“And the best way for me to start with that is by learning what you like. When the time comes, yeah, I’ll figure out how to make another guy come undone. But in the meantime? These next few weeks? It’s just me and you. I want to make you feel all the things you should have when we were together. Every sigh, every moan, every desperate breath. I’ll earn it for real this time.”

Henry’s throat feels a bit dry at the thought, at the determination in Alex’s eyes.

“Is that a promise then? A challenge perhaps?” he manages to say, trying to keep his composure even as he feels himself getting aroused.

Alex doesn’t miss a beat as he says, “Sweetheart, that’s a goddamn guarantee.”

~*~*~

Phoenix, AZ Canyon Con

One of the best parts about agreeing to be the ghostwriter for this project is undoubtedly the ability for Henry to visit cities he’s never been to.

The flight to Arizona with Alex was enjoyable and this time around, they’re set up in an AirBnB for an entire week.

They’ve settled into their temporary new digs pretty nicely and Henry is looking forward to making further progress with Alex and this book.

Neither of them has actually brought up the other day and the deal they’ve struck with each other. Henry hasn’t been sure how to breach the topic, but now that they’re set to stay inside this rental for the week, it feels like it’ll take true Herculean effort to ignore the elephant in the room for much longer.

He reasons that since it was Alex’s idea, he’ll leave it to him to mention when he’s ready. For now, they have been able to tiptoe around it, making conversation about virtually anything else.

Henry takes up residence on the couch with his laptop, headphones on as he queues up Crescent Valley. He’s begun watching the series as part of his research. He’s halfway through season one and he still can’t tell if he likes the show or not. Despite that indecision, he can sincerely say Alex is a pretty great actor.

The show itself is campy at best, but there’s something very earnest in Alex’s portrayal of a newly turned vampire attempting to find balance in the two worlds he’s a part of.

Episode nine begins and for better or worse, Henry finds himself getting sucked into it. He rues the day already when he’ll have to confess to Pez that he should have watched along with him back when they were roommates in university. He’ll never hear the end of it. He’d better start preparing now for the resounding chorus of “I told you so”.

Henry’s so wrapped up in the show that he jumps a little when he sees a figure in the doorway of the living room. Alex is now both on his screen and here in the flesh.

Henry awkwardly makes to get up, hitting pause and taking off his headphones.

“Did you want to watch television in here? I can go.”

Alex’s brows furrow a little.

“Oh, no. I just wanted to hang with you. I know we haven’t really had much time to sit down about the memoir yet, so maybe we could now? But if you’re busy though, we can do it later.”

Henry shakes his head and closes out of Crescent Valley. He switches over to the Google Doc he created, storing away all the notes he’s been taking from various interviews he’s watched and read of Alex.

“Now would be great. It’s been nice seeing you out there with fans, but what I’m still trying to understand is the reason why you want a book at this time. What’s the angle or message you want readers to connect with?”

Alex takes a seat on the single seater across from Henry.

“I want to talk about my sexuality, my ADHD, being a tragic child of divorce, the highs and lows of being in this career. But, mostly the first part.”

Alex takes a deep breath and lets it out.

“I want to come out and maybe in doing so, it’ll help someone else to make sense of the things they might’ve been feeling for years, but never knew how to dissect or put a name to.”

Henry thinks back to their initial business meeting. Alex had made it clear that despite their past, Henry still remained his top pick to ghostwrite. Alex had also said there were different reasons why he hid the truth of who he was. Now it all slid into place since Alex’s admission the other day.

“Alex, that’s incredible. This is huge.”

Alex smiles nervously.

“I can’t believe I’m doing it, but I feel good about my decision. My friends and family know. I feel good about myself, even though I’m still figuring this out.”

“You’re taking a big step and on the world stage no less. That’s pretty remarkable. I’m proud of you. I’d be honored to help tell your story.”

He takes his phone out of his pocket.

“Do you mind if I record? It helps me to get details correct and it’s also useful in getting your cadence right when it comes time to start writing.”

“Not at all. Go for it,” Alex says.

Henry nods and opens his voice memo, hitting record. He asks questions about Alex’s upbringing, the sort of little things a quick Wiki search can’t tell a person.

True to the terms of the contract and Zahra’s assurance, Alex makes himself, for a lack of a better term, an open book. He gets candid about how his parents’ divorce coupled with his relative celeb status has made it difficult for him to put much stock into the concept of dating, especially with people outside the industry.

This fact in particular strikes Henry though he decides not to examine that too closely.

After about an hour and half, Henry decides they’ve covered enough ground to get him started.

“This was great. Thank you,” he says, looking over the new notes he’s taken and saving the recording.

“Yeah, of course.” Alex still looks contemplative and for a moment, Henry merely chalks it up as a side effect of their in-depth conversation until he stands and Alex speaks up.

“Um, could we talk about the other thing too?”

Henry doesn’t need clarification. He tucks his laptop under his arm and sits back down.

“Of course we can.”

Alex lets out a relieved breath.

“I couldn’t sleep last night and I kept thinking about the problem areas you mentioned. One thing you’ll learn about me is that I like making lists and stuff to keep me on track. There’s a neurosy or two in there, but let’s not look at it too hard right now. We can get into that later for the book,” Alex says.

“Point is, I ended up making a sort of…outline for us and these sessions so they have some structure to them. You can talk things out first and then maybe we could have a practical portion. I can link you to the live doc.”

Henry blinks a few times.

“That’s comprehensive. You've made a sex syllabus.”

Alex’s cheeks flush slightly.

“It’s too much, isn’t it?”

“Alex, I’m British. I thrive off structure and formality. I’d quite like to see this outline so yes, please, link me.”

He stands up again.

“Maybe you could come by my room in about an hour?” Henry suggests. “The deal was that the book comes first. I’d say we made sufficient progress today in that area,” Henry says, tapping his laptop.

Alex blinks twice. “Sounds good.”

His tone is almost detached and before Henry can ask if he’s alright, Alex is already on his feet with his phone in hand.

Henry retreats to his room and sets his computer down on the nightstand. He hears the chime of his inbox and he opens it to find an email from Alex, subject line “aforementioned sex syllabus 🍆💦”.

Henry laughs and opens it.

The first lesson, Back to Basics, has subsections for kissing and touching.

Henry closes out of the doc as his eyes look at later topics like fingering and oral. He begins to pace, his neck feeling hot at the road ahead.

In all fairness, at least, this first lesson won’t be difficult at all. Kissing is as harmless as it comes and Henry can attest to the fact that this wasn’t actually an area in which Alex needed improvement.

All the same, Henry knows there’s merit in easing them into this new working relationship instead of jumping into the deep end on day one.

An hour goes by much faster than Henry could have anticipated and suddenly Alex is knocking at his door.

Henry squares his shoulders and crosses the room to let him in. He takes some reassurance in the fact that Alex looks as uncertain as he feels.

“Hey,” Alex says as he comes in, taking a look around himself before landing back on Henry. Even though these sessions were Alex’s idea, Henry gets the feeling he’ll have to be the one to get the ball rolling tonight.

“I will preface this lesson by saying you don’t need any pointers in this department.”

Alex smiles to himself and Henry has to admit, it’s kind of adorable seeing that reaction.

“Regardless, I think your guideline was pretty smart in starting out slowly with these sessions. We can build up from there.”

Alex nods. “Cool, I’m glad you agree.”

Henry stuffs his hands in his pockets. “And you’re sure you want to do this, right? I won’t be offended or anything if you’ve had a change of heart in the past hour.”

Alex shakes his head. “No, I’m still in. I guess I’m just nervous about screwing things up a second time. I don’t know if I could readily bounce back from that level of humiliation.”

Henry steps closer to him, removing his hands from his pockets and instead encircling Alex’s waist.

Alex’s eyes widen but he doesn’t shrink away or look uncomfortable. If anything, he looks curious. Expectant even.

“I think the best way for us to get past the awkwardness might be to simply embrace it,” Henry says.

Alex peers up at him, his eyes drifting to Henry’s lips and back just as he’d done that night right before they kissed for the first time.

This time around, it’s Alex who makes the first move and tugs Henry closer. Henry can’t hide the way this affects him. His breath catches as Alex leans in and presses his lips to Henry’s.

It’s reflexive to kiss him back at once. Alex had left his brain in an absolute fog that night in New York as they kissed on the street and weeks later, Alex hasn’t lost his spark.

This kiss doesn’t mean anything. It won’t lead to anything and Henry thinks that’s what allows him to rid himself of any self-consciousness or second thoughts.

Alex’s kiss grows hungry and quickens and for the sake of Henry’s quickly beating heart, he needs them to take it down one notch or two.

“A bit slower,” Henry says softly against his lips. “I don’t want to rush this.”

Alex smiles and does as he’s instructed. He kisses Henry agonizingly slowly, perhaps out of spite, but Henry relishes in it. Alex’s tongue skims along the seam of his lips and Henry opens his mouth to him at once, gripping Alex’s hips as their tongues meet.

He breathes in deeply, his mind growing hazy in that way that Alex is too good at initiating. Henry feels like absolute putty in Alex’s hands, entirely malleable.

Alex must know it too as he takes control and walks Henry back to the nearest wall. Henry instinctively drapes his arms over the man’s shoulders, lightly threading his fingers through Alex’s hair.

Alex lowers his hand between the two of them and lightly cups Henry. Henry sucks in a surprised breath at the touch.

“Next time,” Alex says quietly, tauntingly.

Henry whimpers in protest.

“Unless,” Alex tacks on in question.

Henry pulls his face back a little and licks his lips.

“Touch was on the agenda, right? We can do a teaser.” Henry sighs. “Rather, selfishly, I really want you to keep touching me. That felt nice,” he admits.

Alex laughs softly but places his hand back over Henry. His cock twitches immediately at the attention. He clenches his jaw as Alex strokes him lightly over his clothes. Henry’s eyes shut, his head resting back against the wall.

His arousal grows with each stroke, his whole body feeling liable to melt. If Alex had touched him like this their first night, it most definitely would have set a different tone for the evening.

He rocks forward as he resumes their kiss. Alex tentatively squeezes his cock. Henry moans against his lips, heart pounding. Alex squeezes him again before continuing to stroke him. Henry can feel himself leaking.

Alex’s hand creeps up, gripping the waistband of his jeans. Henry desperately wants to feel Alex’s skin on his in earnest, but he reminds himself that this is merely their first day. He can’t lose himself like this, no matter how good it feels.

He touches Alex’s wrist lightly and opens his eyes. Alex stills at once and lets go.

“I think that’s good for day one,” Henry whispers.

Alex nods. “Yeah, that was, uh,” he clears his throat and returns his arm to his side as he steps back, “that was enough.”

And yet still, Henry wants more. He wonders if it would be wiser or more efficient for them to blow through the lessons in one go. Maybe that way they could in fact spend the rest of their time together doing what they’ve signed contracts for and are actually getting paid to do.

But the knowledge that he can get access to Alex like this for several more weeks makes him throw away all sense and logic. He wants an excuse to keep these clandestine meetings going.

“I’m gonna grab a shower,” Alex says unhelpfully. All his words do is put images in Henry’s mind that shouldn’t be there.

Henry nods stiffly.

“I’ll get started on dinner for us in the meantime,” Henry says. Maybe getting lost in the rhythm of cooking will make it easier for him to calm down.

“I’ll see you in a bit then,” Alex replies.

Henry sees him out and waits until he hears Alex’s footfalls down the hall before locking his door and undoing his pants to finish the job Alex started.

#rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fic #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #userthai #tusersonia #tuserpaige #ronenrubinstein #usernicholas #usersteen #tusersilence #userjamiec #kimmy writes

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auntie-venom · 3 days

Text

Will of Fate

Chapter Eleven

Fandom: Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Story Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Mature

Characters: Din Djarin x Original Female Character

Summary: There hasn’t been an unidentified spacecraft in the stratosphere of Arkadia in over two decades, let alone three in one day. Those skilled or mad enough to venture into the Chaos unguided were few and far between. That means no one has ever made it to Arkadia who wasn’t intending to be here.

Until today.

Din Djarin finds an unmapped planet filled with beings who have the same powers as the Child, but know nothing of the force or the Jedi.

Chapter Summary: Eziriel and the Mandalorian kick off the hunt for the missing Imperial TIE pilot.

Word Count - 3,944

Chapter Warnings: None

Will of Fate Masterlist

Read on Ao3

A/N: This chapter is a little later than I intended. Real life tends to get busy when you want to get creative. I really appreciate everyone who is reading and letting me know that you like what I am doing. It is very encouraging. I hope you enjoy, any feedback is welcome!

Chapter Eleven

Eziriel is grumpily eating her breakfast. She got up at a ridiculous hour, long before the sun was meant to rise, to ride to the skyport and pack all the supplies she and the Mandalorian would need. She knew that he planned to leave in the morning after dropping his kid off with Nora and she wanted to make sure she had the skyship ready by then.

She had packed provisions into bags with the assumption that this task would take no longer than seven days. She honestly had no idea how long a bounty hunter took to catch a bounty, but if it took longer than seven days she would personally either grab something from a beacon station supply cache or take the few hours by skyship back to Helix to grab more supplies.

She had put away the drop-seats in the drop bay and packed the speeder bike into that area of the skyship. The ship was pretty small, but the Forest of Ga’ladora was very dense. She was sure she should be able to fly him close enough to the last known evidence point to drop him off with the bike to help his descent while she found a close place to land.

She did most of these tasks with a sense of smoldering rage. Amarian and her were discussing the lost Imperial TIE pilot on their way home from work the day before. After she voiced her concerns over her growing state of paranoia after returning to work and not knowing how to act amongst a potential betrayer, he admitted his frustration with the missing Imp and how he was irritated at the team of Enforcers’ lack of results. Eziriel thought they were just commiserating together over related woes until Amarian joked about hiring the Mandalorian to fix both of their problems; he could hunt down the TIE pilot and Eziriel would have to go with him due to her oath binding herself to his safety. Eziriel laughed, thinking there was no way Amarian would use her oath to the Mandalorian as a way to sneak her out of the office so quickly after being gone for weeks just so she can avoid the tension there.

But the bastard kriffing did it.

Eziriel knows an argument with the Mandalorian is coming. She did not discuss her coming with him on this trip and knows that there is going to be pushback from the man, and she completely understands. She does not want to be put in a dangerous situation. She is not someone who looks for risks to be heroic, she is the type of person to help come up with a plan and send people on their way with useful toys. So she knows she will have to sell her coming in a way that the Mandalorian is going to have to accept, and by the time she is finished with her labor, she thinks she's gotten her argument fully prepared.

It was an overall exhausting morning, but she took a moment of serenity, sitting at the edge of the launchpad and letting the rising sun warm her skin as she ate her breakfast in the quiet of the morning. Trying hard not to dwell on the impending argument from a stubborn man and about how much she enjoyed his presence interacting with her family last night.

After scheming with Amarian about the hunt and the supplies the Mandalorian needed to complete it successfully, they had a hearty dinner where Amarian offered the Mandalorian a table to eat in his locked study with the audio patched into the dining area. With how used to the disembodied voice of CHI the family was it was very easy to integrate the Mandalorian’s input into conversation. He did not speak much, but he asked more about the farming district where Nora grew up and how the agricultural council operated. This led to a boring discussion that Eziriel bailed out of in favor of making her niblings and the green child laugh with silly faces. It was a familiar type of evening that she missed while she was away trying to source the Cloak’s glitches. So she is extra annoyed she has to leave the familiarity of it so quickly because of Amarian using the Mandalorian.

By the time she is finished with her breakfast, Eziriel has built up the mental fortitude she knows she needs in order not to take out her frustrations upon another person. Taking one last moment to watch the late summer sunlight up Helix for the day, she stands up and goes to start running the preflight check on the small skyship.

════════════════════════════════════

“What are you doing here?” the Mandalorian’s voice asks out from the small cabin of the ship and she looks up from underneath the console to catch him placing a forearm onto the upper part of the door frame to lean in. “Don’t you have work?”

“Yep,” she says nonchalantly, hauling herself into the pilot seat and turning it to face him. She stares at him for a moment before continuing, “But I can review project updates during our flight.”

She watches his whole body still as he stares down at her and she feels a spike of worry come off him before he finally says in a stern voice, “No.”

“Yes,” she responds.

“You are not coming with me,” he demands.

“Hey Lori, I don’t want to come at all–”

“Great, problem solved,” he interrupts before grabbing her and pulling her out of the pilot seat.

“But I am sworn to your safety.” She explains, planting her heels into the ground and pulling herself out of his grip, knowing full and well that he isn't giving his full strength. She sits back down in the chair and gives him a scolding look. “We have gone over this.”

“What I do is too dangerous for some princess to ride along on,” he says in a frustrated tone. Leaning over into her space he plants his hands on the armrests, caging her into the seat. “This is dangerous and your silly superstitions have no place in it. Go home.”

Eziriel feels her facial features go heavy in anger at the condescending tone he is giving her and she has to take a breath before she lashes out. She’s used to being talked down to at work by her higher-ups or political snobs who want to use her for whatever skeezy plot they desire, but she expected more from those she considers friends. Yes, she has teased the Mandalorian, but has never patronized him like this before and it is insulting that he is doing it to her. She has been nothing but respectful to him and his more devout followings of his culture, just for him to throw hers in her face. There is a twinge of regret she feels from him that grows as she stares up at him in silence and she leans in close enough to him that her nose almost touches his helmet.

“The stakes of my honor are not superstition to me,” she states in a low threatening voice. “I thought a Mandalorian would understand that and would not insult it. Just as we do not insult how others' honor might be recognized in their culture,” she finishes with a flick to the side of his helmet to drive home her point and glares at him.

That small sliver of regret she feels in him cracks into remorse, but that initial spike of worry clouds his aura and she can understand where his harsh words came from. They stay there, him looking down at her still caging her in and her staring at the T in his helmet hoping she is meeting his eyeline. He finally drops his head forward and lets out a familiar sigh that Ezirial is starting to recognize as exasperated concession.

“I can tell that you are good at your job and my being there will be distracting enough to make it more dangerous for you, and ultimately go against my oath to your safety. That is why I feel I can keep you most safe by flying you to the locations you are needed and giving you backup from the safety of the skyship,” she explains her logic to him. “I have no intention of being on the ground with you hunting this person. My way of keeping you safe is to keep an open comm with you so I know if I need to give you transport, tech, or supply assistance.”

Eziriel gently raps her knuckles on his helmet, getting him to look up before continuing, “Come on, do you really think I am foolish enough to think a Mandalorian needs defensive protection? And that I would be the top choice for that position?” She makes a soft scoffing noise from her lips to show her feelings for that scenario.

“Having transport backup would be nice, so I don’t have to haul the bounty all the way back to where I initially parked the ship,” he admits to her and stands back up to his full height.

“I do seem to thrive as your personal chauffeur. Maybe I should consider a career change,” she quips while turning her attention to the console to start closing the loading ramp and begin her ignition checklist. “Plug in the coordinates that Amarian sent you into the navigation.”

“I am sorry I disrespected your beliefs,” he says softly, ignoring her command. He lowers himself into the copilot seat keeping his helmet on her and she can feel the remorse in both his words. “That was a cruel thing to do. Especially since I know you are just trying to help.”

“Thank you,” she answers just as softly, almost taken aback at his genuine, eloquent apology.

“But,” he starts and she inwardly cringes waiting for another argument. “If there comes a moment where you cross paths with the target, you must listen to me.”

Eziriel looks at how he is leaning in her direction from his jumpseat. He is tense and while his anxiety over her coming has lessened dramatically, he is still nervous. He cares, at least somewhat, about what happens to her.

“I will,” she agrees and smiles at him. “Didn’t know you cared so much Lori. I think you are starting to like me.”

“I just don’t want to create a political incident by getting the princess killed,” he says with a dry tone before turning to put in the coordinates, and for the first time since they met, Eziriel reads a lie off of the Mandalorian.

════════════════════════════════════

Since they were flying with a smaller planet-side ship within the troposphere they were looking at a four-hour trip to get to the crash site in Ga’ladora’s Canyon. The Mandalorian wanted to inspect the site itself to see if he could glean anything that the Enforcers missed.

The first hour was spent planning, starting with potential drop spots from the most recent planetary scans. The bottom of the canyon of the area they were going is too unstable with its rocky foundation for the weight of the ship, but there were a few options where Eziriel could lower into the canyon enough to drop the Mandalorian on the speeder bike so long as there haven’t been any recent collapses of one of the stone pillars that litter the canyon floor with debris.

After solidifying the drop plan, she then shows him some of the options for landing to set up a base camp near where he will land. The closest one, and the agreed upon one, is miles away in a small meadow in the woods that the Mandalorian will have to take one of the steep trails out of the canyon to reach.

She then gives him a small lecture accompanied by a slideshow on her datapad of any flora and fauna that reside in the Forest of Ga’ladora that were dangerous and what to do if he sees one. She doesn't have to see his face to know that he rolled his eyes several times at her presentation, but she does know that he is smart enough to take her warnings to heart.

For the rest of the trip, they sit in the small cabin as Eziriel works through her backlog of project updates from her DefTech team while the Mandalorian sits cross-armed with his helmet pointed at the front viewscreen while some percussion focused music thumps quietly over the comm system. She doesn’t know if he is dozing or just staring out the window but she cannot figure out how he remains so very still for such a long time. She is trying to figure out how long it has been since he last moved when his borrowed comm beeps at him and he slightly flinches. Ahh, dozing then, she thinks with a small grin as he looks at the comm and sighs with a shake of his head.

“Your brother is nearly as irritating as you,” he remarks. “‘Hope you like your pilot, she was desperate to fulfill her council-mandated community service.’” She snorts at Amarian’s message spoken with the dry unimpressed tone of the Mandalorian.

“I am still the reigning terror, I hope,” she says with a smile at him.

“For now,” he concedes and sits up a little straighter in his seat to check the ETA til the drop point. She checks it as well and sees they are about half an hour out and that CHI will be notifying her to take control from them shortly.

She stands up and makes her way out of the cabin and into the drop bay. She double-checks the bag she packed for the Mandalorian is strapped tightly to the speeder bike. She doesn’t want him to lose it on the way down or while he is traveling.

“What’s that?” his voice calls out from behind her making her jolt at his unexpected following.

“I packed some provisions for you. Medkit, survival kit, bedroll, and seven days' worth of food,” she lists as she climbs up to sit sideways on the speeder bike. “I just wanted to give you the option of not having to come back to base camp each night, but you will be missing out on actual bunks,” she says as she points to one of the retracted bunks on the side of the drop bay.

“I appreciate your preparedness,” he says. “But I don’t need much on a hunt.”

“Better to have and not need,” she says with a shrug and then holds her hand out to him. “Your vambrace, please”

He is hesitant but turns to lean his hip against the speeder resting one arm behind her and holding out his other arm to her which she gently takes to lay across her lap. Turning her visor on she inspects the vambrace silently and clicks it on to see the user interface he deals with.

“I could have done that for you,” he chastises.

“This doesn’t allow long-range reception or communication, does it?” She asks, knowing the answer at seeing the hardware through his visor.

“No, only proximity-based,” he says and she hums at him and she opens her HolOmni to pull up local holomaps and her dangerous flora and fauna presentation to begin the data transfer between the two.

“I could fix that for you. Make it so you never have to carry a separate comm again. It’s very freeing,” she offers resting her arm against his while they watch the data load. “I could also make your analog interface into a holo projection interface if you’d like. I’m still perfecting the tactility of the holoform, but it’s pretty solid if you aren’t too aggressive. Give it a feel.”

She angles her arm at him and he lifts his arm from her lap and drags his finger across her menu screen of the HolOmni. She looks up at him to make a joke only to realize how intimately close they are. His chest almost touches her arm and his arm rests behind her in a position that is inches away from an embrace. She feels her neck heat up at the observation and hopes he is too focused on interacting with her HolOmni to notice. When he finally draws his attention back to her face she tries to give him a normal smile but there is a small catch of breath that his vocabulator doesn’t pick up but Eziriel barely hears.

“I think that it might be too nice for me,” he says in a quiet voice before lowering his arm down to place it back in her lap, but this time his hand rests on her thigh rather than hanging off awkwardly.

“You are allowed to want nice things,” she says just as quietly and she feels one of his fingers twitch. She tries to compose what to say next when her HolOmni beeps that the file transfer is done. They don’t pay any attention to it and just stare at each other, gauging one another for a few moments before the posh voice of CHI rings through the ship’s comms.

“We are ten minutes from the drop zone, I suggest you relieve me from autopilot.” Eziriel jerks at his voice and the Mandalorian pulls away.

“Right,” she says. “Saddle up Lori, you’ve got a fall ahead of you.” She gives him a grin and hops down from the bike trying to bury that intimate tension that filled the space only moments earlier with their familiar banter.

“I think I can handle that,” he says while mounting the bike as she makes it to the cabin door.

“Hey,” she catches his attention and he looks up at her. “Let the Will of fate guide your way.” He gives her a nod and she slips into the small cabin to begin their complex descent into Ga’ladora’s Canyon.

════════════════════════════════════

Eziriel had just landed after the successful drop-off and was about to start setting up base camp in the area they both agreed upon when the Mandalorian comms in for the first time.

“Change of plans,” he states suddenly into her earpiece.

“Already? It’s been, like, fifteen minutes?” she complains.

“I have a trail and it goes the opposite direction of where you plan to set up camp. I figured you’d want to at least be in the same direction I’m headed,” he explains. “The second location option is in the direction I’m headed if you want to go set up there.”

“Will do,” she confirms. The second location was much further out, but to the south of the canyon next to a small river with just enough space for the small skyship to land. “Amarian said the storm washed away all their tracks, what did you find?”

“Imperial pilots have protocols if they crash. They are to find the closest civilization to make a rescue call. If they cannot find civilization they are to head to the highest point to set up an emergency transponder,” he explains. “However, they are supposed to make discreet marks to show where they are going so they can be tracked by a rescue unit. You wouldn’t notice the marks unless you were specifically looking for them.”

“And you are a smart hunter who knows their prey,” Eziriel says with a smile. She gets the ship back in the air and can’t help but be impressed with him as he explains what he found. A small mark on the lower part of a nearby stone pillar. From that mark alone he was able to determine the initial direction the TIE pilot was headed six days prior.

“A good bounty hunter knows the target’s tactics,” he states simply once he is finished giving her his explanation.

“I guess you weren’t exaggerating when you said you were the best,” she says cheekily.

“I don’t exaggerate,” he says.

“I know you don’t,” she reassures.

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That first night the Mandalorian surprisingly came back to base camp when it was getting late. They had been staying in touch here and there with him giving her updates and her asking him bounty-hunting questions. When night became fully dark he showed up at camp. He claimed he was close enough that it made sense to rest where she was already set up and had a proximity alert, but the way he groaned in relief at laying on the bunk below her told her the real reason was simply comfort and she was glad she could give him that.

The second day he was out as soon as the sun rose, nodding in acknowledgment at Eziriel’s sleepy goodbye wave. She spends most of the day powering through the rest of her reports and pestering the Mandalorian with little jokes and quips just to hear him sigh, but she swears she can hear a smile in that sigh. He spends the day giving her updates and sometimes talking to her about his thought process in tracking the TIE pilot. He eventually found bootprints his HUD could follow and it made his job easier since there weren’t other humanoid tracks to taint the trail. He doesn’t come back to base camp that day and Eziriel is somewhat disappointed to be spending an evening alone.

On the third day, she spends her time working on a few of her own projects while lounging on a rock by the small river trying to soak in the sun’s warm rays. She ends up asking him random questions today during his updates and she finds out that he thinks having favorite things is pointless. But after nagging him she discovers he prefers savory food over sweet, rural areas over city, and nights in over nights out. Even though he claimed he doesn’t have favorite things he was quick to tell her of his preferred weapons and their ideal situation to be used when she asked, and she had to stifle the laugh his brief enthusiasm caused.

During that third day, he deduces that the TIE pilot is headed towards the mountain range south of them to try and set up the emergency transponder. They discuss finding a new spot for her to move to in the direction he is headed, but off the path that he thinks the Imperial is taking. There were three options in the dense woods and she is unsure if some of the choices are still viable after that storm he arrived in.

“I’ll just check them out tomorrow afternoon to see which one works. I can send you the exact coordinates when I land to your comm so you can manually punch it in your vambrace holomap,” she tells him over comms while she eats her evening ration. She gives him an exaggerated sigh before continuing, “Really Lori, let me upgrade your set-up so people can just drop information to you directly. Imagine, no more carrying a separate comm to sync to your kit.”

“It’s never been a problem before,” he says and follows it with a groan of relief that Eziriel assumes is from getting off the bike for the night.

“Streamlining that process could very well save a life,” she states. “You don’t know how much you might need something like that until it’s too late.”

She can practically hear his eyes roll over the comms, before he goes on a small monologue about how he is perfectly fine without her advanced technology and doesn’t need it to be the best at his job. She just listens to his voice lecture her and smiles softly to herself as the moons crest overhead in the night sky.

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