#handling fear of fishes

[patchyworx]

The intense pain of trying to come up with a cool siren costume for Renfest/Halloween but pinterest and google are no help because the general idea of a siren is Mermaid but Emo, Mermaid but Zombie, and Normal Mermaid.. like no

[the-kr8tor]

Sleeping Beauty

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem! Reader/ Red Hood x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Synopsis: Jason sees you unmoving on the floor, his worst fear almost brings him to the edge.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), established relationship, lovestruck! Jason, CW food mentions, one suggestive joke, CW anxiety, CW blood and death mention, fluff!

A/N: I don't know if this trope has been done before for him but it's too perfect for Jason!

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Jason Todd Masterlist

*I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms and copy pasted on any AI software*

Jason feels lighter as he pulls his bike towards the driveway, the shared driveway that he can't wait to shovel snow off of its pavement once winter comes. He can't even fathom that he wants to do such a thing when he doesn't even like winter, or shoveling snow for that matter. But the mundanity of the act has him feeling normal, feeling like he's just another person bringing takeout to a normal home with its very normal façade, a regular door and even more regular windows. It's a…good feeling, a warm one that brings him hope for whatever the future holds.

For once he doesn't feel like the red hood in the quiet street that's filled with equally normal houses with their normal families residing inside. For once he can just be Jason Todd, not a vigilante, not a gun for hire or anything in between. There's no blood coating the soles of his boots as he steps around the freshly poured concrete that you've etched yours and his initials into and inside a crudely drawn heart. “It's tradition,” you said with a shining smile. He smiles at the sight of it, remembering how much you giggled while you drew it on the wet concrete like you're etching his and your names on a tree.

The house isn't as grandiose as the Wayne Manor, but just like the manor, it's home to him.

Jason pats for his keys, noticing the lack of weapons on his person that he's so used to that it's second nature for him to check them. He has no weapons on him, except for a small knife you've given to him as an anniversary present that you said brings out his eyes as a joke. He always brings it wherever he goes. When some people would have their loved ones pictures in their wallet, Jason has this as a reminder of you. Whenever he's nervous or worried, he runs his thumb across the leather handle, letting the small notches in it ground him. The blade never pierced flesh nor will it ever be marred by blood since it's a reminder of you. On his driveway, he's just someone who's just bringing home takeout after hauling boxes upon boxes of things into the new home.

Bruce and his brothers helped with the big move at first, but with the bat signal raised up high in downtown Gotham, they had to go before Jason could even repay their help with greasy takeout. When he tried to come with, Dick stopped him with a strong hand on his shoulder, saying that he should let them take care of the situation. For once, he's happy to oblige. He smiles at the thought of not having that sense of urgency anymore. The weight inside his stomach slowly fades in time, it weighs like a boulder, pleading for him to don the suit and rush towards the signal with his guns. But as he looks up at the starry sky, the bat signal flickers out completely— another mission accomplished. If not then Oracle would've called him for backup as a last resort. Since his phone is as silent as the street that he now lives in, he exhales shakily, fists furling and unfurling out to rid him of that awfully familiar weight.

The people of Gotham are in safe hands while he's out here with you.

Grabbing the plastic bags of warm noodles and dimsum, he fishes out the ring of keys inside his pockets. As he walks quietly on the cobblestones, the doormat that you've chosen greets him at the door. It has the cliché ‘Welcome!’ sign on it, for once he likes clichés.

After a bout of reminiscing and smiling to himself like some love sick fool, he unlocks the door with a click. Silence hangs in the foyer, the queen sized mattress is still standing against the wall, waiting to be carried upstairs. He makes a mental note to haul it upstairs lest the two of you sleep on the floor tonight.

The scent of lavender wafts around him, for sure coming from a scented candle that's lit somewhere. The smell coincides with the scent of his old books that are temporarily placed on the dinner table while the pieces of his bookshelves are still in its box. A soft smile appears on his lips at the thought of you two struggling to put it together as he crosses the shared space with silent footsteps.

“Sweetheart, I'm home.” Jason calls out in the dimly lit home. He's met with the quiet ticking of the wall clock. The lack of lights makes his skin stand on edge, especially when you always had the old apartment lit back when you two still lived downtown. And you always reply back to him the second he enters the place, always quick with a first aid kit in hand or a peck or two.

“Hey, where are you?” He asks the air as he toes off his shoes, placing them neatly beside yours. “They didn't have the chicken you wanted but they did give us extra fortune cookies.” Still nothing on your end. “Babe?”

Honing in on the faint groans of the house, he concentrates, ears twitching and picking up nothing that could involve you. There's no light clacking of your footsteps, nor your voice as you mumble a song that's stuck in your head.

“You could be upstairs,” Jason tells himself to avoid the awful biting feeling. First he'll sweep the whole downstairs, an old habit. Looking towards the kitchen, he finds it eerily empty. Save for the warming kettle that looks like you left on the stove with the fire still on. Your mug and his own are sitting beside it, the tea bags are as dry as a bone inside the ceramic. The kettle shrieks just as he places the takeout on the counter, shutting the stove off, he has an awful feeling gnawing at his chest. Worry slithering from the back of his head down to the pit of his stomach.

Jason's hand doesn't tremble as he takes the knife from his pocket, brandishing the blade as he stalks his own home. Heart pounding in his chest, rattling his ribs and blood flowing in his ears. His mind draws the worst, your blood sticking to the new couch, ichor dripping all over the walls. Then a struggle, a lamp knocked down, glass shards everywhere— a gun to your head. And your screams, yelling for him before you're shut up for good.

He fights those thoughts as he enters the living room, boxes littered around while you're nowhere in sight. The grip he has on the knife tightens, the handle digging harshly into his palm.

Just as he rounds the corner, he sees your feet sticking out from behind the couch, laying on the carpeted floors— unmoving.

Eyes widening and frantic, heart plummeting down to his stomach, his worst nightmare comes to life. Jason stands there for a moment as if he doesn't trust his own eyes, frozen at the sight. Then he inhales, waking himself back to reality, walking closer until you're in his sight.

You're curled around a couch pillow, eyes closed, body relaxed. Looking like how he left you— an oversized shirt, and a pair of comfortable sweats. There's no drop of blood on you, but that doesn't always mean you're alright. Jason kneels, a shaking hand reaching to feel for your pulse. The second his index feels the light thump of your heartbeat, he exhales loudly in relief.

“Oh thank fuck.” He almost drops his whole body on you from the sheer relief. Tucking the knife back inside his pocket, you stir in your sleep. “Gave me a fucking scare.” Whispering, he grasps your bicep gently, not waking you up, but just to feel your warmth. Making sure that his cruel mind isn't playing tricks on him again.

“Mm-hmm.” Mumbling, and as if you're sensing his presence above you, you crack an eye open. Meeting with his bright emerald eyes that seem to light up in the dim room, relief swimming in the shining embers. “Hey,” your voice crackles with sleep. “I fell asleep.”

“You did.” Chuckling breathlessly, Jason carefully cleans the gunk from the corner of your eye. You feel how clammy his palm is against your cheek, hand gravitating towards his nape, nails scratching mindlessly at the scruff. “Was the floor more comfortable than the couch?”

Craning your neck towards the plump green couch, you scrunch your nose. “I didn't want to ruin it.”

“Babe, c’mon, why did we buy it then?” He pokes your cheek, and you grab his wrist, acting like you're about to bite it as he plays tug of war with you. “We're bound to ruin it anyway.” he winks, and you pause, flustered as you pull at his finger to take a gentle bite that has him laughing.

“It looks too perfect, and the floor is nice and cold.”

“I should adjust the thermostat then.” Before he could move away, you tug at his hand, wordlessly inviting him to rest on the floor beside you. With a fond smile, he obliges.

When he lies down with a groan, you immediately turn towards him, hand grasping at his collar to pull him closer. “There, you look like you need the rest.”

“Why?” His thumb traces the side of your face. “Do I look that tired?”

Shaking your head, you fight a yawn. “No, you look like you've seen a ghost, Jay. Are you okay?”

Sniffing, Jason cups your cheek, feeling your warmth ebb through his palms. “I just thought… nothing, it's stupid.”

Your brows furrow, concern prevalent on your face. “Your hand's cold, and you're breathing heavily. It's either our house is haunted or you carried the mattress up by yourself.” Palm placed on his chest, you feel his quick heartbeat that's slowly steadying under your touch. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Just tell me what to do.” Voice shrinking, you pat his heart. “Do you want me to stay like this?”

Nudging your nose with his own, Jason closes his eyes, lashes fluttering as he breathes you in. You smell like his cologne and the lavender candles you lit. You're breathing, alive and holding him gently. “Please stay.” That's all he wants.

“Okay, I'll stay.” Whispering, you move closer, chest to chest, fingers moving strands of hair from his eyes. “And whatever it is, it's not stupid.”

Humming, his lips brush along the space between your brows, then he traces down to the bridge of your nose. Kissing you softly like a fallen flower petal grazing along your skin.

Smiling through his affectionate kisses, you brush his hair away from his eyes again, giggling when the strand falls back down on his eyelids. “You need a haircut.”

Eyes half lidded, green peeking through, the corner of his lips curls into a light smile. “Do you want to do it for me?”

“Me?” You gasp out, and he throws his leg over yours, embracing you as if his arm over your waist wasn't enough. “I might ruin your hair, Jay bird. I don't trust my hand eye coordination when it comes to scissors. Especially with your nice hair, I might end up giving you a mohawk.”

“I could rock a mohawk.” You grin at the thought. “Your coordination is fine, babe.” Blowing his bangs off his face for emphasis, he draws hearts around the plush of your bare hip. “You did hit me with an encyclopedia dead on.”

“That was one time!” Mouth agape and feigning offense, you lightly smack his chest, scars peeking above the hem of his shirt. Scars that you've lovingly traced with your lips and fingers. “I thought you were a burglar! And in my defense, it was dark out, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles, a palm cupping the back of your neck, placing affectionate pecks over the corner of your eye. “You got me good though, hit me right on my noggin.”

Laughing, you bite your lip at the memory. “I'm sorry, good thing you were wearing your helmet back then.”

“Yeah, good thing.” Keeping you close, his muscles relax even more, the fear that encapsulated him is just a dull ache in his stomach now.

Your knuckles brush along the curve of his jaw, the same worried look returns to your pretty face. “Jay—”

“I thought you got hurt.” Blurting it out, he frowns at the recent memory. “The house was dark and you left the kettle on. Then I saw you… and I—” inhaling, he gives you a strained smile. “I feel better now though, you don't have to worry too much.”

“Oh, Jason.” Lifting yourself up by your elbows, you gaze at him softly as he holds onto your waist like it's his lifeline. “I didn't mean to—”

“It's not your fault, that's just how my mind works I guess. Seriously, it's fine.”

Taking his hand, you place his palm right on your beating heart. “Worrying is part of my job, handsome.” You beam at him, staring fondly and leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “I'm sorry for leaving the kettle on. I promise to not forget next time, and I promise to keep the place lit. And then whenever I take a nap, it'll be on our too perfect couch.” He sighs, eyes gazing up at you with reverence as he nods and pulls you down towards him. “I'll try to lessen your worries.”

“Thank you,” tugging you down, he hides his face on the crook of your neck. Arms wrapped around you like a cocoon. You rest on his chest, cheek pressed right on his heart as you rub reassuring circles all over his clavicle. “I don't mind you sleeping on the floor. Your poor back might feel it though.” You can feel his smile against your skin.

Moving a smidge away, you grin at him, eyes shining with mischief. “Yeah, I might need a massage actually.”

“From me?” He raises his brows, a smirk playing on his lips. “I would but I don't trust my hand eye coordination.” Pinching your sides, he lets out a quiet laugh.

Giggling, you poke his cheek playfully. “You don't need that to give a massage though.”

“Maybe for shit massages.” The chorus of laughter echoing from the living room drenches the whole house in warmth. “Say please?”

You roll your eyes, moving down to press a brief yet saccharine kiss right on his smiling lips. “Please?”

“You really want that massage huh?” He pats your cheek, then his hand crawls to your nape, gently kneading. “Do you still want that massage even if I didn't get you your orange chicken?”

Tilting your head, you shake your head with a grin while squeezing his cheeks together. “I'd say that it's a good bargain.” You were on the floor for a second, then the next you're lifted up, legs wrapped around his hips as he carries you. “Jason!” Squeaking and grinning, you wrap your arms behind his head for leverage.

“What?” He asks innocently, mirroring your giddy smile as he brushes his lips against your cheek. “I'm going to give you that massage.” It's a ruse to get you off of the harsh floor, but you let him when his hold is much more comfortable than the floor.

“Better be a damn good massage then.” You say before you're dropped on the couch, bouncing gently as you stare up at him lovingly.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[vrystalius]

Hey babess, i have quite the heartwarming request.

So imagine that wife reader is heavily and her water randomly breaks so ofc she gives birth with the help of shinobu(i love her so much) and other midwives ofc. So how would the hashias react during the late stages of pregnancy and birth??

Hear me outtt, what if preg reader was pregnant with twins(im a big family girl lol, i had to let that out). Stuff stuff

Hashira’s reactions during your pregnancy

You’re heavily pregnant. How will your husband react?

Note: I didn’t include the gender and names of the babies, so you can choose the genders and names yourself!

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x fem!reader

Includes: Food cravings, mood swings, sickness, talking to the baby, birth and a little bonus scenario in the end (different for every hashira)

Words: 5.1k, enjoy!

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Food cravings

What? You want to eat ohagi again? Sure it’s Sanemi’s favourite food, but you’ve insisted on eating ohagi for every day the past week. The baby needs some vegetables, fruits, vitamins and whatever else. Just anything but ohagi!

He couldn’t even watch when you proceeded to devour sweet potatoes with a chocolate sauce. The worst part is that Sanemi is the main chef of this household and was forced to cook all kinds of monstrosities for you during your pregnancy. But he never said a word about it and just silently judged you for even asking him to bake a whole fish just so you can covered it in sliced fruits and chocolate sauce.

“Are ya sure you’re not poisoning our baby? Are ya really, really sure?”

Sometimes, Sanemi’ll try to sneak in healthy foods into your diet like one would to with a toddler. He’d chop the vegetables as small as possible and try to feed them to you in bits by bits by incorporating them into your favourite foods. You weirdly enough never noticed how your ohagis began to taste like carrots more and more.

“What? No. I’m making them like always. I.. just used the same knife for both carrots and the beans of the ohagi… Whatcha looking at me like that for??”

Mood swings

It’s very confusing to Sanemi how you can be happily munching on your snacks in one moment and then began crying about a dog wandering the streets, thinking someone abandoned him. He’s putting up with it, though. He’d would take you into his arms and try to explain to you that no, that dog is not living on the street and that it belongs to the nice old lady that lives just down the street. He gets a little nervous every time you get emotional when standing in the nursery and inspect all the prepared toys and clothes. Why are you crying so hard? Do you not want a baby? Or are you just this excited to have one?

He doesn’t get your mood swings but’ll try his best to give you reassurance and support. Even though Sanemi’ll be a little awkward and just hover around you in fear of triggering another random emotion in you.

“Hey, darling… how about we move to the bedroom? The nursey is makin’ ya emotional. You’re gonna loose control over ya bladder and I’m gonna be forced to clean after ya. Again.”

But most of the time, Sanemi’ll get soft when you get emotional over the baby stuff like this. Sometimes, he’ll sneak into the nursery during the nights he can’t sleep and rumage all the baby’s things. Sanemi would look through all the neatly folded baby clothes Giyu send over and the toys Tengen’s wives made themselves for the baby. He can’t help but get a little teary-eyed himself, leaning against the crib and looking down at the soft mattress below. He just can’t want to have a little baby in there.

“Fuck, don’t sneak up on me like that! A-And ‘m not cryin’, I-I’m just checkin’ on the crib. Y’know, if it looks stable and shit. It gotta handle our fatass baby.”

Talking to the baby

Sanemi loves to lay his head against your stomach and just listen to the baby’s heart beat. His hand would gently caress your stomach while mumbling against your skin.

“Whatcha doing in there, hm? Why are you kicking your mommy? You’re hurting her, y’know.”

It’s a weird sight, seeing a strong man like him baby talking to your stomach while having his cheek pressed up against your belly. He’d take at least one hour in his day just to talk to your baby and tell it aaaalll about your and his day.

“Your mom threw up onto our new carpet and that’s your fault, you know that, right? I’m gonna kick your ass for it one day. Maybe when you become a shitbag in your teenage years.”

Sickness

“In both sickness and in health,” and Sanemi meant that wholeheartedly after speaking those words out loud during your wedding. Even if that means sitting beside you in the middle of the night, holding your hair and patting your back while you throw your guts up. He’s sleepy, he’s tired, but he won’t return to back without you. If Sanemi has to, he’ll cook up some tea or soup for you to calm your stomach. He’d even break Shinobu’s door down for some herbs or medicine if it means making you feel better and cuddling you back to sleep with no worries.

“You’re okay, I’m here. Don’t hold back.”

If you’re throwing up for a while, Sanemi might fall asleep in the hunched over position while holding your hair behind your head, his hand still firmly resting on your shoulder in quiet support. He jumps back awake when you throw up violently again.

“Ugh, you good? Told you seaweed n’ cherries don’t go together…”

Birth

Sanemi wanted to complete one last mission before retiring for good. He noticed how his muscles were starting to soften up and the callouses in his hands began to disappear. Just one last mission, then he’ll become a full-time dad! He promised you it’ll be for just three nights and that Shinobu will be looking out for you while he’s gone. You two can talk about preparations, body changes and whatever you two always talk about.

He was close to tracking this scum demon down when he received a message from his crow about you going into labour. Sanemi wanted to go on a mission one time, just one time! Can’t you hold the baby in or something until he comes home? He knows that he has to behead this demon before coming home. That thing already did enough harm and he didn’t want to retire on a bad note by ditching his final mission. So, Sanemi proceeded to chase the demon down while steaming in anger. He wanted to go on a mission just ONE last time, damnit!!

“COME BACK HERE YOU PIECE OF SHIT!! MY WIFE’S GIVIN’ BIRTH, WHILE I’M CHASING YOUR SORRY ASS!!”

Shinobu helped you through the whole process of giving birth. The contractions and labour lasted for almost half a day, and you managed to almost broke two of the three butterfly girl’s hand in an attempt to release some pain. You were supposed to hold Sanemi’s hand and almost break his bones while giving birth, not theirs! Shinobu kept reassuring you that Sanemi surely is already on his way! Surely. She had her soft smile on her face the whole time while you pushed and screamed through the pain, reassuring you and offering all kinds of ways to relieve pain during the whole process.

After Sanemi returned from his missions, he was staring at two babies in your arms. His eyes darted back in forth from the one to another. The baby on your left had beautiful white hair and was squirming around a lot, grabbing your robes and was seemingly already complaining about the lack of feeding you’re doing. The other baby had darker hair and was much calmer. It was asleep, resting against your chest.

His heart shattered in a million pieces after processing what just happened. In a good way, that is. He never commented on it, but Sanemi did notice that you were a little bigger for being pregnant with only one baby. He just brushed it off as being a bit bloated or the baby being really big, but never that it were two babies that were hogging all the food you were devouring. Sanemi was bawling his eyes out while holding both of his babies in his arms for the first time. They’re so tiny, so cute and chubby! How could anyone not love them? He was barely able to speak while trying to express how much he loves you and is so glad that you and the babies are fine. This is everything he had ever hoped for: a perfect wive, a family home and two kids. If only his other siblings were here to celebrate this moment with him. Perhaps he’ll allow Genya to visit every now and then.

“I-I- *hic* W-We need an-another- *hic* … the crib’s not b-big enough- f-for- *hic* gah, f-fuck!! *hic*

Bonus: A tight crib

You noticed how Sanemi insisted on putting the babies back to sleep every time they woke up during the night for anything. You usually fall back asleep and wake up in the mornings back in his arms, but tonight, you wanted to wait until he returns to bed to cuddle him. After the babies quieted down and your husband didn’t return, you dragged yourself out of bed and stepped into the nursery, only to find Sanemi laying inside the cramped crib, having the baby lay on one side and the other on the other. He was laying in an extremely uncomfortable position, with hid neck bend at an awkward angle and him laying in the crib with his legs dangling out over the edge. You couldn’t help but giggle a little, seeing your husband scarfing his own comfort for his babies.

“Nemi?…”

Your whispering made his eyes flutter open. His face contorting into a tired scowl.

“It’s the only way to put ‘em to sleep, not my fault they like me so much.”

Now, are the babies attached to their papa, or is Sanemi being very attached to them?

Kyojuro Rengoku

Food cravings

Whatever you’d like to eat, he’ll provide! Sometimes, if the combinations you come up with sound appetising enough, Kyojuro’ll even try some the foods alongside you! He will not judge you for craving weird foods during your pregnancies, but he is a little worried about your choices. You need to make sure that you eat enough nutrients for you and the baby! Kyojuro’ll try his best to cook up something nice for you, but he ends up buying take-out and feeding that to you instead. He’s scared he might burn something or accidentally poison you, so he’d rather leave food up to the chefs.

“I brought some tempura, some soup dumplings, ramen, udon noodles, mushed and baked sweet and regular potatoes. Oh! And some dessert… Mochi, dango and a slice of cake! Everything you ordered, my flame!”

Shinjuro, after finding out about your pregnancy, would offer to cook for you sometime. He used to make meals for Ruka while she was pregnant, so he thought he might make himself useful and help out. Kyojuro’s father actually vowed to stop with the drinking to make sure his grandkid doesn’t grow up around a drunk grandpa, so this is a first nice step for him. Besides, he feels guilty for being so terrible to Senjuro and Kyojuro.

His meals are surprisingly very well made and tasty. They soothe your nausea, lessen the swelling in the feet and help a lot with your headaches.

“Father, I never knew you could cook this good!” “Shut up and eat your plate.”

Mood swings

Kyojuro feels like he’s causing your mood swings sometimes. He feels guilty when you start crying over little things, like how your favourite tree is starting to change colours in the leaves, or just how much you missed your husband after him leaving for half an hour to get you dinner. He’s used to comforting Senjuro while the two grew up together, so he might know a thing about holding someone. Kyojuro would pull you closer and place lots of kisses on your head and top of your head, rubbing your shoulder with his warm hands. His warmth is very comforting to you, making you calm down a little.

“Are you feeling unwell? What made you so upset, love?”

He’ll try to cheer you up by talking about baby names. In his family, most of the names sound similar and end with an “juro”. Shinjuro, Senjuro, Kyojuro… how about Tojuro? Sounds nice, doesn’t it!? Or how about Kijuro? Or how about you combine your first letters with Juro? That sounds very fitting! And see, your tears are already gone!

“I’m not sure if we should think about girl’s names, my love! My family birthed sons for generations now! But we can write some down if you like, just in case.”

Sickness

Seeing you sick makes Kyojuro nervous, but he’ll stay beside you during your morning sicknesses and nausea. You kind of remind him of his mother, back when she was in the late stages of her sickness, that’s why he gets a little jumpy when you hunch over the toilet snd wretch your guts out. He’ll hold your hair and gently caress your back, silently hovering beside you.

To make sure you don’t have to get out of bed in the middle of the night to throw up, Kyojuro equipped your nightstand with a bowl you can throw up into anytime you felt nausea hitting you.

“I’ll make some tea for you once you get nauseous again, okay? My mother’s recipe.”

Talking to the baby

Kyojuro loves to talk to your stomach as if the baby is already out and able to talk back. He’d sit beside you in bed, gently caressing the side of your stomach while grinning brightly.

“What kind of hair will you have, hm? Like mine? Or like mom’s?”

Sometimes, he’ll try to convince the baby to let you sleep for once. If you can’t sleep, Kyojuro can’t sleep. He’d lay his head on your chest and sleepily mumble to the stomach while slowly rubbing your sides.

“You’re quite the active one, hm?.. mh.. How about we go to sleep together, okay? Be a good kid and give your mommy some rest…”

Birth

When your water first broke, Kyojuro thought the baby might’ve kicked your bladder or something, causing you to leak. But the horror on your face that followed soon after changed his mind in an instant. He sent out a crow to Shinobu, notifying her about your labour, but it might take a while until she arrives. In the meantime, your husband prepared all the things for a homebirth. You probably wont be able to reach the butterfly mansion in time to give birth there, but in the meantime, would you like water? Food? Sweets? A towel? Maybe not the last one because you’re able to hit him with that. You’re very angry about him impregnating you nine months ago while being in painful labour right now.

Shinobu surprisingly arrived very quickly and got right to work. Her soft voice and kind words as encouragement managed to calm you down as far as to not curse Kyojuro and all his ancestors out. Your anger directed at him actually helped you press the baby, so your husband happily sat there and held your hand while you were attempting to break it while redirecting your pain

Finally, after hours on hours of labour, Shinobu’s encouragement and Kyojuro’s hand turning blue from blood being cut off, you birthed two identical twins. Both had your husband’s flamboyant hair colour and prominent eyebrows. Your husband was trembling and crying after seeing them for the first time. His babies, his kids! And two of them?? In one go?? This couldn’t have gone any better. For around the next hour, while your babies were nursing on you, he kept thanking you for everything you ever did for him.

“I-I love you! I-I love y-you! Th-Thank you for marrying m-me, my fl-flame! Than-Thank you for giving me t-two babies! Thank y-you! T-Thank you!!”

Bonus: Tasty hair

Your babies are for some reason obsessed with your husband’s hair. Maybe it’s because of how bright his hair is or how nice it is to chew on it. You caught Kyojuro offering his baby his hair to hold and play around with, only for it to start pulling tightly on it. It hurts a little and he’s not quite sure how his baby got this strength out of nowhere, but he’s incredibly happy that his baby likes his hair so much!

But he also learned that the twins prefer their grandpa’s hair a little more over his. Shinjuro doesn’t appreciate it as much as Kyojuro is, though. He tolerates them pulling on his hair but doesn’t like it. At all. He’ll glare at his son until he finally takes his baby away from his damn hair! His scalp is already burning!

(But we all know that Shinjuro takes them back into his arms on purpose to tickle their stomachs and to let them pull on his hair as they please. They’re just too cute!)

“My flame, could you help me remove our child? This one seems particularly fascinated by the taste of my shampoo!”

Gyomei Himejima

Food cravings

Gyomei will not always give into your odd cravings. Instead, he’ll try to redirect your cravings to tastier things. He’s worried that you don’t get enough nourishment for the baby and for yourself, so Gyomei’ll try to feed you healthy foods instead of eating the creations you came up with. Why do you even thought about eating pieces of clay you picked up from right next to the waterfall? You’re lucky Genya caught you before you managed to take a bite.

To be completely honest, Gyomei is incredibly worried that you’re eating things you aren’t supposed to eat while he’s not watching/listening.

“Love, what are you chewing?”

His calm and deep voice makes you stop munching on the raw onion and immediately put it back down onto the counter of the kitchen.

Gyomei insists on cooking for you, even if he’s blind. He’s surprisingly good with cooking and always manages to slip vegetables into the meals in the tastiest way possible! You somehow never notice and just are incredibly happy that he takes some time out of his day just to cook meals for you! Sometimes, Genya joins in when you two eat and just chats with you about your husband’s training and his big brother. He’s also very curious about your pregnancy and how you’re coming along. That boy is just as excited about your baby as your husband is! Genya even gifted you one of his best bonsai trees to keep in the nursery!

“Miss Himejima, are you still hungry? You can have my plate if you like, I’m going to meet up with Tanjiro to eat later in the city together anyway.”

Mood swings

Gyomei understands that your hormones are going a little crazy during your pregnancy, but he still gets a little surprised when your mood changes so suddenly. You get emotional mostly over Genya and how hard he’s training to make up with his brother. You cry everytime when you see him train hard under Gyomei. Your husband finds it kind how much empathy you’re feeling for that boy, but the poor boy can’t really concentrate when a crying pregnant lady watching him train. So, your husband suggested you to not watch them train as much anymore and instead do something else. As compensation, Gyomei promises you to tell you everything he and Genya have been doing that day.

Sometimes, when you get angry out of nowhere, Gyomei’ll just let you throw your little tantrum while listening you silently. After you finished, he might suggest exorcising you as a joke to lighten your mood, but his serious tone and unmoving expression made him look like he’s serious. Wich makes you cry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m not going to exorcise you, I promise, my pearl. I would only do that in the extrem case.”

Sickness

Gyomei knows how to deal with sicknesses and nausea. Once you express feeling sick in any way, he’ll prepare a special herbal tea, open up all the windows for fresh air, feed you crackers and dry food, and of course, equip you with a bowl to vomit into just in case. He’ll sit with you in bed, your head laying on his thighs and his palm resting on your forehead, slowly petting your hair.

He’s mumbling quiet prayers for you and your baby, his deep and smooth voice calming your stomach slowly. Gyomei’d smile softly while having his eyes closed. You told him that his smile is always making you calm, so he’s trying to smile more often for you.

“How are you feeling? I can brew you another cup if you like, it’ll help you.”

Talking to the baby

Gyomei barely talks to the baby while you’re awake. He’ll sometimes lean down and mumble a couple of greetings and kind words before moving on with his day, but when you fall asleep at night, your husband likes to have one-on-one conversation with his child. He’d have his large palm resting on your belly, rubbing it up and down. Gyomei sometimes nuzzles into your sides and places a few kisses on the side before talking.

He’d be praying first, making sure that the baby is alright and’ll come healthy into the world. Then, he’d quietly talk about you. Your husband’ll talk about the things you like to do, about how emotional you get over Genya, how you pout everytime he leaves early in the mornings to train, how much he loves you and how you insisted on get even more toys, even though the toybox is already filled to the brim.

“We are both very excited to meet you… please be more kind to your mother until birth. Her bladder is not as strong during the pregnancy, so do not test it again.”

Birth

Gyomei was praying the whole time he was waiting outside the chambers of where you were currently yelling in pain. His eyes were closed in concentration and his palms rubbing together, his red pearly beads wrapped around his hands. He could hear every mumble of Shinobu to Aoi, every curse you’re throwing around and every bed creak after changing the position. Shinobu suggested that Gyomei should wait outside since he’s quite large and they need more space to move around you. You promised to him that you’ll be fine on your own. He has been crying and praying, crying and praying the whole time for you and the baby, until finally, everything got quiet. Your cries died down, but there wasn’t any signs of a baby crying either. Gyomei was silent, stopping his prayers for a moment.

Until finally, first one baby, then another started to cry out. Two? You were carrying two miracles in your stomach all this time? Shinobu permitted Gyomei back inside and allowed him to meet the babies for the first time. They felt so incredibly tiny in his arms, so so tiny and fragile… The babies are the most precious things, and he felt like the luckiest man in all of history, holding his babies in his arms. His voice was very shaky and more tears than usual were running down his face.

“My love. I thank you for all eternity for giving me this gift… thank you. I am incredibly grateful for everything you have ever done for me.”

Bonus: Who’s who?

Given that Gyomei’s blind, he has always relied on his senses to move through the world. But funnily to you, his senses fail to differentiate wich baby is who. Sometimes you catch your husband holding one of the babies, standing silently there, thinking about who exactly he’s holding right now.

“Need some help, dear?”

Your voice made him turn his head towards you, smiling slightly.

“Yes, I already fed one of our twins. I went to retrieve more milk and lost track of wich one I already fed.”

His voice sounded a little confused but also slightly amused. Stepping closer, you saw how the baby that was laying in the crib was uneasy and wiggling it’s legs around, while the one Gyomei was holding was calm and content. You figured that the squirmy one wasn’t fed yet and took the sleepy baby out of your husband’s arms, setting it back into the crib and taking out the other.

“Here, this one seems hungry, hm? Aren’t you?”

You sweet-talked the baby a little, tickling the little stomach, making it giggle and kick against your husband a little. Gyomei nodded quietly.

“Thank you. I have yet to figure out how to differentiate our twins properly.”

Giyu Tomioka

Food cravings

He’s a little confused out by your requests that keep getting weirder and weirder. Are you sure you want to eat that? If Giyu would eat that, he’d be throwing up. Oh wait, you actually are vomiting up regularly…

Giyu will give you everything you asked for, but hesitantly. Before placing the plate down, he’d eye you up and down, judging you heavily for what he’s about to dish you. His silent judging eyes are enough to second guess your life choices that made you ask your poor husband to cook mashed potatoes mixed in with strawberry yogurt and sakura mochi with fish filling. Perhaps you’ll take the miso soup instead.

Sometimes, he’ll get so worried he approached Shinobu by himself and asked if there’s any medication he can give to you to make you crave less weird things and eat more healthy. Sadly, there is nothing like that, so Giyu’ll eventually resolved to force feed you regular foods instead. He’ll sit you down and feed stir fried veggies, rice, eggs, soup, tea, dessert and whatnot. Anything else but the monstrosity you keep craving.

One time, he caught you mixing chocolate sauce and soup together in the middle of the night. Giyu was just standing in the doorframe, looking utterly defeated and distraught at your actions.

“I love you, but can you stop poisoning our baby? I want it coming out of you alive.”

Mood swings

Giyu feels like he’s the reason you feel upset so suddenly. Perhaps he should’ve cleaned the house more, or finally finish building that crib. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so angry so randomly. He still is quite surprised how quickly your emotions can change from happy to sobbing about the cuteness of the teddybear Giyu brought home for the baby. It’s confusing.

He’ll try to comfort you the best he can, but your husband already struggled to comfort you when you’re not pregnant and had real reasons to cry about, so how is Giyu supposed to comfort you when you sob over the rice being undercooked?

He’ll just awkwardly pull you into a side-hug, rubbing your shoulders gently.

“Do you want chocolate? I heard people eat chocolate when sad. Or do you just want a hug?”

Sickness

You throwing up and being sick is making Giyu sick. While you throw up into the toilet, your husband would hold your hair back while leaning over the sink, trying not to vomit himself. After your morning sickness passes, he still remains crouched over the sink for a moment longer before preparing a ginger tea for the both of you. He’ll lay in bed for a while, cuddling the blanket while sipping on his tea. He looks like a wet, depressed cat, sipping on his tea with a straw while lying on his stomach like that. He mostly recovers after finishing his tea, but sometimes, he gets really sick. You’ll be forced to take care of your nauseous husband who is supposed to be taking care of you right now! How is he supposed to handle watching you birth your child? How can he slay demons but is not able to watch you throw up?

“Love… can you get me another cup of ginger tea? I’m getting sick again…”

Talking to the baby

Giyu didn’t start talking to your baby until you encouraged him to do so. You told him that talking to the baby creates a bond before it’s even born! So, he’ll slowly start conversations with your belly. He’s not sweet-talking to your stomach, but instead awkwardly holding a conversation with it as if he’s speaking to an adult. Giyu’d sit across you on the bed, his hands propped on his thighs, leaning forward slightly.

“So… how is it like inside the womb? When do you want to come out and meet your mom and dad?”

Birth

Giyu was very panicked when you went into labor. He send out a crow to Shinobu immediately and began assembling something similar to a throne made out of towels and blankets. He forced you to sit down and make yourself comfortable while he waiting on the porch to see when the butterfly hashira is coming. His grip was to tight on the fence of the engawa, he accidentally shattered the wood.

He tried to watch you giving birth, but once he saw the head slowly press out of you, he couldn’t anymore. Giyu held your hand in support and let you squeeze as hard as you want, but he was turned away your lower body, facing you instead. Once he heard the baby’s cries fill the room, he snapped his head around in an instant.

Your husband almost fainted when he saw another baby slowly squeeze out of you. Shinobu handed Giyu the first baby, wich was already wrapped in a towel, so she could direct her attention back to the second baby. His head felt dizzy while holding his baby, not able to comprehend that he’s about to be the father of two. He only build one crib, there’s no room for another. Is he even capable of raising two kids? What if they outnumber and team up on him once they grow up? Now he has twice the chance to fail at parenting and become a bad father!

But once your husband held both babies, all his worries washed away. It was like he was in some sort of trance, watching the babies just sleep and squirm around a little. Giyu didn’t even notice how he started crying until his tears fell onto one of his baby’s forehead and started crying.

“Ahh… uhm. How do you calm a baby down? Do you just rock it? Uhm. Help me, please-“

Bonus: How are you supposed to know what they want?

You watch your husband stress out over why the baby is crying for so many times already, and they’re only two weeks old. You caught him talking to your baby multiple times, just straight up asking what they want. He’s slowly starting to get desperate and you can see it.

“You want food?… No? You wanna be held? Maybe… play? Also no? What do you want then?”

Somehow, only you could understand when and what your babies want. Giyu watches in awe as you immediately figure out that the baby wants to be held and fed, and how quickly they calm down afterwards. You’re just magical, truly.

“How do you know? What do you know that I don’t?”

💠

Phew, this took a while to write! Hope you enjoyed this anon! I tried to incorporate the requested things in this ask from another post of mine, but I might’ve forgotten some. Anyways, my posts haven’t gotten much traction lately, so I hope this one’ll do a little better! I’m looking forward to reading all the reposts and comments you leave, I read every single one of them! Just know that they make me smile like an idiot <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

Note: Over 200 Notes!! Tysm!! <33

— I’d like to credit my cat as a co-author and professional purrer.

[lilacxquartz]

part 17 of 19 of kinktober: trapped

pyramid head x gn!reader

plot: while exploring the town, you find yourself incapacitated in the worst possible position — themes: warning for non con, dark smut, gender neutral reader, size difference, monster fucking, horror, gender neutral smut — w.c: 700ish

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

You were incapacitated.

Trapped in between the barely pried open iron bars, providing just big enough of a gap for your upper body to squeeze through and then… stall. In a way, it was humiliating, but in another sense, it was also terrifying because existing within the town as a whole was a death sentence in its own right. From one little miscalculation—you had potentially doomed yourself.

You tried to dislodge yourself again but the bars were too narrowly placed and you couldn’t push or pull yourself neither back nor forth and in doing so, you only found yourself more stuck than before. Panic quickly swept through your being in violent waves, abandoning all sense of rationality in favour of a hurried escape but nothing was working—but then finally, you heard it—the all too familiar scrape of metal, the thud of staggering footsteps—oh no, no, no… he was here.

You turned your head slightly back to just about catch a glimpse of him filling out the doorway, blocking all gaps of light that otherwise cut into the cell. In an attempt to avoid your flesh likely meeting the blade, you strove to push yourself forward, to at least nullify his efforts to strike you down… but then something else followed suit.

You froze as you felt his calloused hands brush around the soft contours of your exposed flesh; his fingers breaching the torn fabric and tearing away the cloth from the skin, readily exposing you to him. You remained statued in place as you feared for the worst, unable to quite comprehend what he was actually doing to you; almost delicately feeling you up—pushing—spreading your legs apart, ripping away at anything that acted as a barrier between you and him.

You tensed as you quickly understood what was following suit; feeling the tip of something very obvious poke against your most vulnerable parts. You writhed around and squirmed under his grip like a fish out of water, only to remain caught and hooked in his presence, feeling him drive into you in a near hungry pursuit. You gritted your teeth as you felt him force himself inside of you, feeling overwhelmed by his monstrous length that completely filled you out to the brim.

With shuddering, quaking cries, you softly wept as he continued to take in his brutal girth, feeling his cock slide in and out of your insides and stretch you out beyond a recoverable limit. With an unforgiving pace, Pyramid Head continued to hilt himself into your core, feverishly bucking into your body as a radiating, almost scalding pain akin to searing agony settled within the confines of your form. Of course however, he showed you no mercy, pounding into you with a near primal fervour; his hips slamming against your behind with each sawing motion.

Somehow, he grew needier as he continued to violate you—his fingernails digging bleeding crescents into the soft peaks of your ass, kneading against the cushioned skin and spreading you open as far as you could physically handle. It was as if he was trying to force you to accommodate the entire capacity of his impossible length, taking advantage of the limiting position, knowing that you couldn’t just pull yourself away.

Nearing his impending climax; his movements soon became more erratic and maybe even sloppy. He leaned his towering form closer wherever he could press against your bare back—causing the iron bars to crack open further—growling out heated breaths that rolled hot down your spine. Each passing thrust caused for you to shake, prompting you to involuntarily roll your eyes to the back of your head and perhaps even see stars from just how overwhelming it all truly was.

Just as you were about to pass out however, the monster finally came undone with one final violent rut of his stuttering hips. You gasped as you felt a stream of hot oozing warmth fill your senses to such an extent that your stomach nearly bulged from his pent up release.

Thinking it was all over, you tried to close your eyes to recover—but then you were promptly taken out of the cell, readily carried around like a rag doll, to be used and paraded around per each of his passing whims.

In a way you were thankful that he wasn’t going to end you outright.

But then you realised what your life was about to become and that much had otherwise terrified you.

Not quite a mercy after all and worse yet, rather a sentence in the hell you found yourself in.

[yuujispunches]

Babysitting emergency ~ R.S.

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Summary: Sukuna is in charge of babysitting his little nephew for an evening, should be easy enough right? Turns out it isn’t so he finds himself knocking at his annoying neighbour’s door.

CW (content warning): cuteness overload, modern AU (no curses), ooc Sukuna (he’s kinda nice), Sukuna is an architect for literally mo reason, some light cursing.

AN: This is way too long because I got too into it hahahah but I think really like how this turned out 🤍 English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’re any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of character I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

There were very few things that could rattle Sukuna Ryomen. Earthquakes, client meltdowns, the occasional burst pipe on-site, those were all things he could handle effortlessly. But standing in his living room in a faded black hoodie, sweatpants, and socks that hadn’t matched since 9 a.m., he was definitely rattled.

The source of his current crisis was none other than a pink-haired five-year-old named Yuji, his nephew.

The kid was adorable. When he was asleep. Awake? He was a human pinball, a juice-powered chaos gremlin with endless questions and zero fear.

“Uncle Suku, can I feed the fish again?” Yuji called, already climbing onto the kitchen counter.

“We don’t have a fish!” Sukuna snapped, catching a juice box midair. “That’s my garlic press!”

Yuji grinned, completely unbothered, as he jumped down and ran in circles around the coffee table, dragging what used to be a potted plant behind him like a leash.

It was only noon.

Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose. His sister had begged him, really begged him, to babysit while she and her husband attended a last-minute emergency at her office. He’d said yes because he was a responsible adult with a flexible work-from-home schedule and because, well, he wasn’t heartless.

But this? This was slowly turning into a war of attrition.

He tried distracting Yuji with cartoons. Didn’t work. Tried coloring. Yuji drew on the wall. Tried snacks. The living room now smelled like stale applesauce and childhood regrets.

Sukuna’s eye twitched as a toy firetruck zipped past him and hit the front door.

He needed backup. But not just any backup. His neighbor. He stared at the wall separating his apartment from hers.

You’d lived next door for about six months. Too cheerful. Too nosy. Always humming in the hallways and leaving little potted plants outside your door like this was some rom-com set instead of a downtown apartment building.

And you loved to get on his nerves.

Whenever he bumped into you in the hallway, it was like sparring with a cartoon character. You smiled too much. Talked too much. You once called his very expensive minimalist furniture “cold serial killer chic” and he still hadn’t forgiven you.

But Yuji liked you. A lot. And right now? Sukuna was desperate.

With a long-suffering sigh, he knocked on your door. It opened a few seconds later, revealing you in leggings, a hoodie, and fuzzy socks. You were holding a mug that said BITE ME in cheerful bubble letters.

Your eyes widened. “Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Brooding himself. Need to borrow a cup of angst?”

“Help me.” Sukuna said flatly.

You blinked. “Sorry, come again?”

He cleared his throat. “I said… Help. Me.” He said it like the mere act of those words leaving his lips physically hurt him. It probably did in fact.

You leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling. “Did you swallow a thumbtack, or did you actually just ask me for help?”

“Yuji.” He said simply, gesturing behind him. A loud crash followed.

Your smile widened. “Say no more.”

——————————————————————————

Fifteen minutes later, you were in his apartment, crouched on the carpet, helping Yuji build a pillow fort. The kid had immediately latched onto you like a magnet, and you? You looked completely at ease.

Sukuna watched, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

“Okay, Yuji, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to guard this pillow castle from the evil broccoli overlords.”

“Broccoli is gross!” Yuji shouted.

“Exactly!” You said solemnly. “They must be stopped.”

Yuji saluted you. “Yes, General!”

Sukuna felt like he’d stepped into an alternate universe. One were his heart did weird things when he saw you laughing at something his little nephew did. He wasn’t handling it well.

“How do you do that?” He asked finally.

You didn’t even look up. “Do what?”

“That. Handle him like you’re some sort of… tiny human whisperer.”

You shrugged. “It’s not that hard. He just wants to play. And not be barked at like he’s a military recruit.”

Sukuna scowled. “I wasn’t… Okay, maybe a little. But in my defense, he colored on my tax documents.”

You laughed. “Honestly? That’s kind of iconic.”

He groaned. “Of course you’d say that.”

Yuji popped up from behind the couch. “Uncle Suku, can she stay forever?”

He sputtered. “No.”

“Yes.” you said at the same time.

Yuji laughed, then returned to his fort.

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks for stepping in.”

You waved him off. “I love this stuff. Chaos is my natural habitat.”

“I can tell.” He muttered, eyeing the glitter stuck to your sleeve.

You grinned. “Admit it. You’re relieved I came over.”

He looked away. “I… You’re not entirely useless, I guess.”

“A glowing review.” You said. “Should I write that on my resume?”

You ended up staying all afternoon. Sukuna tried to pretend he was annoyed by it, but the truth was… the apartment felt lighter with you in it. Your laughter made Yuji light up. Your presence calmed the room. You even helped him clean up after Yuji crashed for a nap on the couch, completely worn out from fort-building and broccoli slaying.

“You want tea?” He asked, half-grumbling.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering because you’re being polite, or because you’ve realized I’m delightful?”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m offering because you stopped him from destroying my apartment and my will to live. Tea is the least I can do.”

“Romantic.” You said dryly. “But sure.”

He handed you a mug and sat across from you at the table, eyes half-lidded, arms folded.

The silence was surprisingly… comfortable.

“I still don’t get why you hate me.” You said after a moment.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You kind of do.” You smirked.

He exhaled. “You’re loud.”

“And?”

“Too cheerful.”

“And?”

“You rearranged the mailboxes that one time.”

You laughed. “Because they were in the wrong order. You’re such a Virgo.”

“I’m a Scorpio.”

“That tracks too.”

He gave you a look, but the edge in his eyes was softened by something else. Amusement?

“Okay.” You said, sipping your tea. “Let’s lay it out. You’re grumpy and tense. I’m sunshine and rainbows. Opposites attract.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” You said with a shrug. “Is it working?”

Sukuna opened his mouth, then shut it. For the first time in years Ryomen Sukuna had been rendered speechless. The silence stretched for a bit.

Then he stood and walked to the sink, muttering, “You’re insufferable.”

You smiled behind your mug. Because you knew that in Sukuna language that wasn’t a no.

——————————————————————————

You came over again the next weekend.

This time, Sukuna asked. Not begged. Not pleaded. Just a text that read:

You busy? Yuji’s back. Bring sugar.

You arrived ten minutes later with cupcakes and a grin.

Over the next few weeks, it became a pattern. Sukuna watched Yuji during the day. You popped over to help when you could. The three of you became an oddly functional little trio.

You learned that Sukuna was surprisingly good at drawing. That he secretly loved cooking shows. That he kept extra fuzzy blankets but pretended they were for guests.

He learned that you used sarcasm as a shield. That your last relationship ended because someone told you to “stop being so much.” That you secretly worried you were too loud for quiet people like him.

He told you, one night while Yuji was snoring in the other room “You’re not too much. People just suck.”

You smiled so hard it hurt.

He noticed. He was utterly screwed.

——————————————————————————

The day it all changed, Yuji had just left with his mom, and the apartment was quiet again. You were helping Sukuna pack away the last of the kid’s toys.

You held up a plastic lightsaber. “I’m keeping this.”

“You literally didn’t buy it.”

“I earned it with emotional labor.”

Sukuna smirked. “You’re ridiculous.”

You put the lightsaber down and looked at him.

He was closer than you thought. Still in his black hoodie, hair a little messy, he had red finger paint smudged on his left cheek and his eyes were dark and unreadable.

“I like you, you know?” You said softly.

He didn’t respond right away. Then he stepped forward. His hand found your waist.

And just like that he kissed you.

It was warm and slow and soft in a way that made your heart ache. No snark. No banter. Just the press of his lips on yours and the quiet hum of understanding between two people who had somehow, impossibly, become each other’s favorite chaos. When he pulled back, you blinked in shock, your heart almost beating out of your chest.

“Wow.” You whispered. “That was…”

“I should’ve done that weeks ago.” He said.

You smiled. “You absolutely should’ve.”

He hesitated, only for a moment, just enough to make you squirm a bit. “Wanna go out sometime? Like, a real date. No Legos involved.”

You looped your arms around his neck. “Only if you promise to let me win at Mario Kart.”

“Not a chance.”

“Then I’m in.” You beamed at him.

——————————————————————————

The first date was his idea. Which, honestly? Surprised both of you.

It started with a knock on your door, three days after the kiss. You opened it expecting mail or a neighbor with a Wi-Fi emergency. Instead, there was Sukuna, in a navy-blue jacket, holding a small paper bag and looking like he’d spent twenty minutes pacing before mustering the courage to ring your bell.

He cleared his throat. “Put on shoes. I’m taking you somewhere.”

You blinked. “Wow. So romantic. You didn’t even offer me a rose or tell me to pack a bag for a mysterious getaway.”

“I brought food.” He held up the bag like it was a peace treaty.

“What is it?”

“Gyoza from that place you like. The one with the sarcastic waiter.”

You smiled, grabbing your coat. “You’re lucky I’m easy.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “That’s debatable”, but his ears were pink.

——————————————————————————

The date started at a park. Sukuna led you to a quiet, tree-lined path, where you sat on a bench under the soft glow of streetlamps. The weather was cool, the sky cloudy, and for some reason, it felt oddly cinematic.

“You brought me to a park?” You teased. “What are we, eighty?”

“I considered a rooftop, but someone’s afraid of pigeons.”

“I was attacked once.” You said firmly. “They’re sky rats.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and handed you the gyoza bag. “Eat before you get even more dramatic.”

You bit into a dumpling, humming contentedly. “You know, I never expected you to be the ‘pack a picnic and stroll through the park’ kind of guy.”

“I’m not. But you like this kind of stuff.”

You paused mid-chew. He kept looking straight ahead, refusing to meet your eyes.

“You remembered I like this?”

He shrugged. “You talk a lot. Stuff sticks.”

Your chest tightened with that stupid, fluttery ache that happened every time he did something unexpectedly sweet.

And of course, being you, you couldn’t help but push a little. “So… is this your idea of boyfriend material?”

He gave you a dry look. “Don’t push it.”

“I dunno…” You teased, bumping his shoulder with yours playfully. “I might have to make you a Pinterest board.”

“If you do, I’ll set your phone on fire.”

You giggled, and for the first time that evening, he smiled. A real one. Small, lopsided, and rare as hell.

You didn't kiss that night. You both kind of wanted to, but something about it felt too… gentle. Like rushing would break it.

So instead, you walked home with him in silence, hands brushing occasionally. When you reached your door, he said, “Same time next week?”

You grinned. “Only if you bring dessert.”

——————————————————————————

By the third date, he was holding your hand.

By the fourth, he’d let you see his apartment’s second bedroom, the one filled with sketchbooks and drafting tables and old, half-finished models of buildings.

He told you, without looking at you. “I used to want to design theaters.”

You sat beside him on the floor, tracing your fingers over the paper. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Money. Clients want modern. Steel and glass. Emotionless. Easy to clean.”

You whispered, “But you wanted magic.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and said quietly. “Still do.”

That was the night he kissed you again. Not a maybe-kiss, not a I’ve-wanted-to-do-this-for-weeks kiss.

It was a you matter to me kiss.

And that’s when it started.

——————————————————————————

The relationship, if you could even call it that at first, was chaotic.

You were still neighbors. Still bickered like you were trying to win a verbal UFC match. But now he’d kiss you when you were mid-rant. Now you’d steal his hoodies like it was your God-given right. Now you sat on his kitchen counter and kicked your feet while he cooked, and he let you eat the last dumpling without pretending to fight you for it.

Yuji figured it out before either of you said anything.

One Saturday morning, while you were helping him build a pillow fort version 3.0, he looked up and said, “Are you Uncle Suku’s girlfriend now?”

You blinked. “Uh…”

Sukuna, from the other side of the room, said “Yuji.” In almost a warning tone.

“What?” The kid said, frowning. “She’s here all the time. And you kiss. That’s what girlfriends do.”

You covered your face with a pillow.

Sukuna walked over, ruffled Yuji’s hair, and said, “You’re too observant for your own good.”

Yuji beamed. “Does that mean I can call her Auntie?”

“No- ” You and Sukuna said at the same time.

Yuji pouted. “Lame.”

——————————————————————————

It was bumpy, of course. Sukuna didn’t exactly slide into domesticity. The first time you left your hairbrush in his bathroom, he stared at it like it was a live grenade.

“You’re moving in?”

You blinked. “It’s a brush, not a lease agreement.”

“I’m just saying, that’s how it starts. First the brush. Then you’re here every night. Then I wake up and there’s throw pillows on my bed.”

“God forbid you experience lumbar support.”

Eventually, though, he got used to it. You being there. Your humming in the morning. Your socks in his drawer. The way you curled up on his couch and tucked your feet under his thigh like you belonged there.

One night, after too much wine and too many old horror movies, you looked at him,flushed and sleepy, and said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

He froze.

You panicked. “I mean, not like in love in love. Not in a weird way. Just, like, casual love. Like a chill-”

He kissed you. Long. Firm. No hesitation.

When he pulled back, he said “I love you too. Ever since you knocked on my door with a batch of welcome cupcakes.”

You blinked. “You don’t say anything for ten minutes and then just- ?!”

“I was trying not to freak out, okay?” He snapped. “You caught me off guard.”

You snorted. “You? Mr. Stoic? Freaked out?”

He grumbled. “Shut up.”

But you didn’t.

You laughed, leaned into his chest, and said once again “I love you.”

And this time, he whispered it back immediately.

——————————————————————————

Dating Sukuna was like learning a new language.

He didn’t always say the right things. Sometimes he snapped when he meant to ask. Sometimes he shut down when he should’ve opened up. But he showed love in small, quiet gestures.

A thermos of your favorite tea on his counter when you were sick. An extra key on your keyring that you definitely hadn’t put there. A grumble of “Don’t be late” when you had a big meeting.

And you? You loved out loud. Sticky notes on his mirror. Spontaneous takeout at midnight. Kisses on the back of his neck while he worked on new sketches.

You argued, of course. Loudly. Often. Once about the right way to fold towels. Another time about whether Die Hard was a Christmas movie, which, by the way, you won. Once about the color of a shower curtain.

But the make-ups were always worth it.

Sometimes that meant soft apologies whispered under the covers. Sometimes it meant passionate, desperate kisses against the kitchen counter.

Sometimes it meant cuddling on the couch with Yuji between you, asleep, while the TV played forgotten cartoons in the background.

——————————————————————————

One night, months into the chaos, you were curled up on Sukuna’s bed, flipping through one of his sketchbooks. He was brushing his teeth, hair damp from the shower, wearing the gray sweatpants that absolutely should’ve been illegal.

You held up a sketch of a tiny theater with stained glass windows and velvet curtains.

“I love this one.”

He spat into the sink. “Old. From college.”

“Why didn’t you build it?”

He shrugged. “Too sentimental. No one wants that crap.”

You hesitated. “I do.”

He glanced at you in the mirror.

You closed the book. “I want all your sentimental crap. All of it. The weird sketches. The hoodie you never wear but won’t throw away. The grumpy texts. The yelling. The quiet. I want all of it.”

He turned. You waited.

Then, softly, he said, “You already have it.”

You smiled. “Even the hoodie?”

“Especially the hoodie.”

You laughed, and he climbed into bed beside you, pulling you into his chest.

——————————————————————————

Six months after the first kiss, you officially moved in. Not all at once, it started with your toiletries, then your sweaters, then somehow your cat, who terrorised Sukuna for the first week.

The building super made a joke about it one day in the hallway.“You two finally caved, huh?”

Sukuna just smirked, one hand on your lower back.

“Better than her breaking into my apartment every other night.”

You elbowed him. “I never broke in.”

“You climbed through the fire escape.”

“Once!”

“You brought tacos.” He conceded. “So I let it slide.”

——————————————————————————

One morning, while brushing your teeth beside him, you looked at him in the mirror and said, “You know I love you, right?”

He met your eyes. “I know.”

“And you… love me too?”

He leaned down, kissed your toothpaste-foamed cheek, and said “Unfortunately.”

You grinned.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was yours.

A slow-burn romance with yelling and laughter and pizza stains. A relationship built on bickering and babysitting and the most unhinged five-year-old matchmaker alive.

And somehow, against all odds? It worked.

——————————————————————————

You two had decided to keep your relationship to yourselves for a while, not that you were ashamed of it because you weren’t in the slightest. You just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet of living in your own little bubble, but given that there was a five-years-old that was the embodiment of ADHD that knew… the secret was meant to come out rather sooner than later.

It happened at a family barbecue. A simple, innocent Sunday afternoon.

Sukuna’s sister had invited him, meaning, both of you to her house just outside the city because she wanted to thank you for “Not allowing her brother to throw Yuki out of the window”. It was a yearly tradition: kids running around, way too much food, and at least one uncle getting into an argument about lawn maintenance.

You didn’t expect much. Just decent grilled corn, a slightly-overcooked burger, and maybe a chance to mess with Sukuna’s head by being overly charming to his extended family.

You didn’t expect Yuji to completely detonate your secret relationship like a tiny pink-haired grenade.

——————————————————————————

“I told you.” Sukuna muttered as you got out of the car. “My family is nosy.”

You slipped on your sunglasses. “And I told you: I’m adorable. They’ll love me.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “You stole my last piece of cheesecake last night.”

“And yet you still let me wear your hoodie this morning. That’s love, baby.”

He made a noise that could’ve been a scoff or a suppressed laugh. You counted it as a win either way.

You walked into the backyard hand-in-hand, a detail you both completely forgot until it was too late. Music was playing, kids were screaming, and the smell of charcoal filled the air.

Sukuna’s sister came over first, grinning. “There he is! The brooding menace himself.” She said as she hugged the brooding tattooed man next to you. “And his emotional support ray of sunshine.” She beamed at you, as she embraced you.

She laughed as hugged you both. “It’s about time you brought her around again. Yuji hasn’t shut up about her.”

“Of course not.” You said. “I’m his favorite adult.”

“Excuse me?” Sukuna said.

“I don’t make him eat vegetables.”

“You bribed him with marshmallows to get him to brush his teeth.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?”

Sukuna muttered something about bad influences and childhood cavities, but his hand didn’t leave your lower back the whole time.

You tried to play it cool. Smile. Be casual. Only… it was hard to stay subtle when Yuji was running toward you at full speed, arms wide.

“AUNTIEEEE!”

Sukuna flinched like he’d been hit.

You bent down to scoop Yuji into a hug. “There’s my favorite little chaos goblin!”

“I missed you!” He said. “Uncle Suku was so boring last week. He wouldn’t let me use the hose indoors.”

“Because I’m not a psychopath.”

You whispered to Yuji “We’ll stage a mutiny later.”

He giggled and kissed your cheek loudly.

That was strike one.

——————————————————————————

Strike two came later when one of Sukuna’s cousins, a tall guy with a man bun and too many opinions about kombucha asked. “So, what’s your deal with the grump here? Just friends?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deflect with your usual “I’m his handler” joke, but Yuji beat you to it.

“They kiss a lot!” Exclaimed proudly, licking a popsicle. “Like, a lot a lot. I saw them one time on the couch and Uncle Suku said I had to pretend I didn’t.”

Dead silence. You blinked. Sukuna blinked.

The cousin blinked and grinned. “Ohhhh.”

You covered your face.

——————————————————————————

Strike three came barely a minute later when Yuji, still unaware of the social nuke he’d dropped, said to Sukuna’s mom, loudly. “Uncle Suku said he’s gonna marry her one day but he’s being a big chicken about it.”

Sukuna choked on his beer. You very, very calmly set down your lemonade before you dropped it.

Yuji looked up at his grandmother innocently. “Right, Ba-chan? He said he was gonna do it soon. With a ring and everything. Like on TV.”

The silence was now legendary. Sukuna’s mother turned slowly to her eldest son.

He coughed, red-faced, and muttered “Kids say weird things.”

“Oh no.” You said, barely holding back laughter. “Let’s hear more about this ring, chicken man.”

“I’m going to exile him.” Sukuna growled. “I swear to God.”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t bring it up again that night.

He was flustered enough. You could tell by how much he was cleaning. Sukuna never cleaned while angry, only while thinking. While trying to process. And judging by how many times he rearranged his spice rack, he was practically having an existential crisis.

So you let it go, for about a week at least. Until you noticed him acting… weirder than usual.

You’d wake up and find him staring at you like he was trying to memorize every freckle on your face. He kept checking his coat pockets, muttering under his breath. He googled “best restaurants with rooftop views near me” and pretended he didn’t. He even said “I love you” first one night and then acted like he hadn’t.

You were no genius, but you could put two and two together. Still, you didn’t say anything.

Because this? Watching him unravel like a tightly wound spool of sarcasm and anxiety? This was fun.

——————————————————————————

The night it finally happened, he invited you to dinner. Which wasn’t weird. Except he was nervous. Weirdly nervous.

“You okay?” You asked, brushing lint off his shirt as he fiddled with his keys.

“Fine.”

“You look like you’re about to testify in court.”

He scowled. “Just get in the car.”

He took you to a rooftop restaurant overlooking the city. Very fancy. Very romantic. Very not Sukuna.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Trying to get laid or trying to hide a body?”

“Shut up.”

The dinner was good. The wine was better. And you were just starting to feel that warm, fizzy buzz when Sukuna reached into his coat pocket.

Paused. Frowned. Checked the other pocket. Then the inside. Then his wallet.

“Everything okay?” You asked, eyeing him as if he had just grown a second head.

“I… I forgot something.”

You tilted your head. “What’d you forget?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up so abruptly he knocked his chair into a waiter. Then he mumbled “Be right back” and practically sprinted down the stairs.

You stared after him.

Okay you thought to yourself, So either he’s proposing or he just remembered he left the oven on.

——————————————————————————

Ten minutes later, he came back, flushed and out of breath, holding…

A tiny, slightly crumpled black velvet box.

You blinked. He sat down, still panting.

“Had to run to the car.” He muttered. “Was in the glovebox. Under your fuzzy socks.”

You stared at him. Then at the box. Then back at him.

“You kept a ring next to my socks?”

“I panicked!”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

He exhaled and pushed the box toward you, not opening it, not kneeling, just sliding it across the table like it was a cursed artifact.

“I was gonna do this right.” He said. “Fireworks. String lights. Maybe a cat in a tux.”

“A cat in a- ”

“But then Yuji opened his gob, and you started looking at me like you knew, and I started panicking every time you reached for a coffee mug like you might find it by accident- ”

You opened the box. Simple. Silver band. A small, round-cut diamond in a vintage setting. Elegant. Understated. So you.

You looked up, eyes glossy. “You picked this?”

He shrugged. “You said you liked rings that look like heirlooms. You were half-asleep. Probably don’t even remember saying it.”

Your chest ached. You stood, walked around the table, and sat on his lap, not caring that half the restaurant was now watching.

“You’re a mess.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“And you’re a menace.” He said. “I think I’m about to have a heart attack, so can you please just put me out of my misery?”

“You didn’t actually ask, you know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Will you marry me, even though I’m emotionally stunted and allergic to sentiment?”

You grinned. “Absolutely.”

He kissed you. Not gentle, not shy, but completely, hopelessly yours.

Applause broke out from a nearby table.

You flipped them off without breaking the kiss.

——————————————————————————

You didn’t tell Yuji until a week later.

He was on your shared couch, watching cartoons, shoveling goldfish crackers into his mouth. You sat beside him. Sukuna stood behind the couch, arms crossed, trying not to smile.

“Hey, champ.” You said. “Guess what?”

Yuji looked at you.

“We’re getting married.”

Yuji gasped. Loudly.

Then jumped up and screamed. “I WIN! I WIN! I TOLD YOU!”

You blinked. “Told who what?”

He pointed at Sukuna. “He said he wasn’t gonna do it until next year. But I said he was a big chicken and he was gonna do it this month! I win!”

Sukuna stared at his nephew like he was an ancient demon haunting his bloodline.

“Did you bet on my proposal timeline?” You asked.

Yuji looked smug. “I also bet with Ba-chan. She owes me ice cream.”

You howled with laughter.

Sukuna groaned. “Why do I feel like I’m being outsmarted by a five-year-old?”

You leaned into him, kissing his cheek. “Because you are.”

Neither of you would change a thing.

Tags: @noooo-onee @suna-yoshihara @hawkwithsocks @pickledsoda

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

[eicsferrari]

Couldn't Make It Any Harder - fc43

pairing: franco colapinto & norris!reader

a/n: im not sure if i like this one but i love this song

masterlist

જ ♡ જ

ynnorris "go on vacations with your brother and your best friend, it will be fun!" they said... liars

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lando your the liar, you told me today that it was the best idea ever to travel together🤨

ynnorris you're*

ynnorris also you have no witness of that

yourbff how can you be so hot????

ynnorris literally you !!!

user4 hi girlie, can i date your brother?

ynnorris he's annoying so yes pls take him away from me

lando HEY

user4 ngl being noticed by the norris sibilings was not how i thought my day was gonna go

francocolapinto baby i can drive your car and maybe you'll love me

ynnorris quoting the beatles is the way to my heart you know me too well

user8 she calls him best friend but they flirt under every single one of her posts, you are not fooling anyone

user34 ok but franco flirts with everyone

user77 not like this

user23 we can switch places if u want

જ ♡ જ

ynnorris travelling but fear not, new music soon

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user22 yn pop domination is coming

user45 after her last breakup i just know we are getting the saddest song ever

user76 fr, it was BRUTAL. i'm glad she's doing better now

francocolapinto id jump in front of a train for you🛐

ynnorris ok bruno mars

user43 are they dating?? i don't understand their relationship

user21 no one does lol they met last year when franco got to f1 and since then they became "best friends" who flirt all the time, have insane chemistry and can't keep their hands off each other

user89 the fashion icon that you are

જ ♡ જ

francocolapinto saw some fishes🐟

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lando without me💔

ynnorris you wanted to stay at the hotel and play videogames ??? you made your bed now lay on it

lando meanie😔

ynnorris WHY WOULD YOU POST THE LAST ONE??? that was just for us i look terrible

francocolapinto you always look gorgeous

user17 she said just for us🥺 stop feeding my delusions

user55 her smile on slide 1 ... call me crazy but that's what being in love looks like

user62 u are crazy but im glad at least you are self aware about it

જ ♡ જ

ynupdates yn norris opens up about dating in new interview: "(...) i don't fall as easily as i used to. when i was younger i was a hopeless romantic but now i have to think about the consequences, not to mention the public's reaction. loving another person can be so hard...sometimes i feel like a graveyard of once bloomed now withered hope and i'm not sure i can handle going through that again, being that hurt again (...)"

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user8 i'm crying so hard

user5 yourex when i get you,,,

user93 when she said after so many relationship failures she self sabotages and it's not fair to put anyone through that...

user43 i SOBBED, i desperately need someone to show her she's worthy of being loved

જ ♡ જ

ynnorris Last day

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user7 THE OUTFIT

user56 does this mean new music??????

ynnorris tomorrow babes😉

francocolapinto need you biblically 🥵

landonorris leave my sister alone u weirdo

user5 he just won't give up

francocolapinto you look really nice

ynnorris thanks fran❤️

user2 share the lip combo🙏🏼

જ ♡ જ

ynnorris emails i can't send: couldn't make it any harder - mp3

this is a vulnerable one but i hope you like it

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user15 the concept of fearing you are too hard to love...she read my diary for this one

user9 that is franco's hand,,,

user32 she spilled her heart on the song and you are thinking about a man?

user23 yes cause the song is literally for him

user44 we don't know that

user67 im devastated but this is a masterpiece

user48 has anyone else noticed that franco is not here? he always likes and comments

user74 yes he is always one of the first likes

user52 stop😭 i hope it doesn't mean anything bad

જ ♡ જ

જ ♡ જ

ynnorris you told me right from the start i'm easy to love

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user7 ynfranco nation we were right !

user89 this caption after the song she released i'm so happy for them😭😭

yourbff FINALLY

user45 she's one of us

francocolapinto te amo🤍

ynnorris yo más 🤍

lando i approve i guess🙄

ynnorris you literally cried when we told you

lando fake news don't believe her!

જ ♡ જ

Taglist: @justaf1girl @anamiad00msday @readtoooomuch @2bormaybenot

[syoddeye]

cygnet, plucked | price x reader | part one part one cw: clothes stealing, forced transformation, coercion, familial abandonment, non-consensual touching/manhandling, restraints, masturbation mention, forced marriage forthcoming cw: dubcon, forced marriage, blood, mild injury a/n: reader is a swan shapeshifter. she retains some feathers as a human. based off this request, obvs influenced by swan-maidens, swan lake.

The first time he touches you, it's your wrist. A firm grip, just below the joint. Testing. Feeling the few feathers that sprout there, thumbing over the delicate, individual rachis.

You don't move. Don't speak. Torn between the instinct to flee and the paralyzing fear that you cannot. You watch his face. The thick brows, the kempt beard. The wrinkles that pull at his forehead when he frowns.

He is older than you—older than you look, at least. His arms are burly, heavy with muscle and hair, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows like he means to get his hands dirty at any moment. Willing to. Blue eyes, your favorite color until this second, framed by crow's feet and speak to experience.

He looks at you with expectations you wish you didn't understand.

"Can't leave without this, can you?"

Your dress, spun from feathers and thread, drapes over his shoulder like a pelt. As if it were a thing he hunted, caught, claimed—that he did not simply steal it from the lakeshore when you were distracted. It doesn't belong there. It doesn't belong anywhere but on you.

"Come along. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

Your sisters are gone. Fled, shrieking into the oncoming sunrise. You do not blame them. But it hurts. 

The lake is still. Empty.

He lets the silence stretch, patient. He has all the time in the world. You don't.

You've watched human men before, from a safe distance, tucked among the reeds with your sisters. You've seen what they do when they think no one is watching. The way their faces shift at the sight of a woman. The way their hands reach, take, ruin.

You are a flightless bird, exposed. Not much of a swan. A sitting duck.

What choice do you have?

You follow.

You learn his name is John. That he has lived in this cabin for almost a year. That he built it himself. That he traps and skins, chops wood, salts fish, keeps a gun out of reach, hidden like your dress.

He tells you these things in pieces, the same way he feeds you. A bowl of soup set down in front of you with no ceremony. A tin cup of well water. A torn hunk of bread.

He talks a little, asks a little.

"Never seen anything like you," he says on the second night while you cower behind his chair by the fire. Where you slept after tearing out of his arms and screaming yourself hoarse. "Wish you'd talk to me. Awfully shy, aren't you?"

It galls you. Shy. As if he is not keeping you here, naked. Vulnerable. You ache for your wings. The sky.

You say nothing.

He exhales through his nose, it sounds like a laugh. "I suppose it's not an easy thing, coming from a life like yours."

You want to ask him what he thinks your life was. But you don't want to know what he would say.

He keeps the dress in a chest under his bed.

You desperately search and find it while he is outside splitting wood. The latch is loose. Stupidly unlocked. You lift the lid and your breath catches. There it is. Your feathers, your escape, the lifeline that made you you.

Your fingers graze the fabric. It should be soft, but it feels wrong, foreign and unfamiliar under your hands. You wonder if it is altered. If it will still fit. If it's too late, tainted by his handling.

"Looking for something?"

You slam the lid shut.

John stands in the doorway, hands on his hips. Forehead slick with sweat. The axe is outside, leaning against the chopping block, but his knife is at his belt.

He'd hurt you if you tried to run, maybe kill you. You are not so sure you want to die.

You don't answer.

He crosses the room. He doesn't look angry. He looks—wry. Pleased. Like he had been waiting for this.

He kneels beside you, one arm resting on his knee, and tilts his head. Reeking of pine and tobacco smoke. "That's not for you anymore, darling."

You swallow. This is the closest you've been since he entrapped you. "It is mine."

He nods, as if conceding the point. "And what would you do with it?" he asks. "Go back? To what?"

He reaches out, wiping away a single, hot tear. The fireplace pops, and you feel the warmth of his skin before you feel the roughness of his fingers. You hate it.

"The lake is still empty. They've not come back."

You think of your sisters. You think of the wind under your wings and streaming over your back, the open sky. You think of the sound of John reviving the hearth in the morning, how he dropped a blanket over you the first night, and said, You'll freeze like that.

Of course, he thinks nothing of the fact that he's the reason why you're naked. Blind to it or willfully ignorant.

"It's just you and me now. I'll take care of you, Shy."

Shy. That isn't your name. But you'll be dead before you give your real one to him. At least something will remain yours.

You look at him. He is a big man. Broad shoulders and palms. Thick, hairy arms and a barrel chest. You've seen the thing between his legs—he's made no efforts to hide himself or alter his routine with you hiding in the corner. He touches himself in the dark when he thinks you're sleeping.

He could break you easily. But he hasn't.

Not yet.

He brushes his knuckles over your cheek.

"Can't believe I found you," he says. "A pretty wife, fished from the lake. Or the sky, I suppose." He smiles, chuckling as if you're both in on the joke. "Mm. Wife." He presses his thumb to your bottom lip. "Yeah, like the sound of that. I'll make you a proper wife."

The way he says it is careful. Thoughtful. It is a promise, or a threat. You cannot tell which. 

You look at the chest.

You look at John.

And you do not answer.

John returns at dusk, the door creaking wide to let in the last slant of daylight, and finds you trussed up where he left you. Your wrists are raw, delicate skin rubbed angry beneath the ropes that tightened with your struggling. 

His shadow spills over you, and a sigh slips from him, edged with disappointment. He crouches. Fingers press into your skin, prodding where the rope bit deepest.

"Damn near hurt yourself, honey," he scolds, massaging the worst of the raw spots. He touches you in the way you've seen him care for his axe. Slow, reverent, making sure nothing is too damaged. Unusable. 

A hand settles over the soft, feathery patch above your rump, fingers carding through it appreciatively, lingering before he unravels the last knot. He ignores your hissing.

The moment you're free, you scramble away, body aching. You tuck yourself behind his chair, peeking out with sharp, distrustful eyes. He lets you go, lets you think you've won some small mercy. 

Then he turns his back, shaking out his coat, unpacking the sack he carried in, setting out each item on the table. Dull, practical offerings—salt, flour, needles, twine. Things for a life you don't want. Things for a home you will never call yours. And last, draped over his forearm, a dress. Mundane. Plain, homespun, the color of stone.

But you are distracted. Staring at the chest.

He only addresses your fixation when he's finished, and hauls it out from under the bed. 

"Take a look."

You do. You don't want to, but you do. Your gaze flicks to him first, wary, waiting for the trap. You open it, and your stomach drops.

Your head snaps up, stuttering, eyes glossing over with hot, helpless rage. 

His smile stretches, knowing. Then, he produces the last item from his trip and draws a bundle from the sack.

He explains it's the reason why he's later than expected. A special order that took hours and a bit of coin, but was well worth it. The seamstress did fine work.

Isn't it pretty?

See the little wing pattern she stitched in?

They're the only wings you'll have now.

He holds it out, delicate feathers and lace draping over his hand, the ruined remnants of your freedom reshaped into something grotesque. A wedding veil.

"Try it on for me, darling," he murmurs, offering it with one hand and adjusting himself with the other. "Let me see my bride."

part two | masterlist

[msgexymunson]

Shotgun

Description: you're on a camping trip with your two friends, and the scariest guy from school: Eddie Munson. A few beers and some weed change the way you look at him however. Maybe he's not so scary after all. Cocky, oh yes, but not scary. Especially the way your legs start to squeeze together at the sight of him. But, does he like you, or is this some cruel game to play on the innocent band geek? 

A/n: do I have 10 WIPs? Yes. Do I have requests I'm working on? Also yes. So logically, I started a one shot from a smutty dream I had, that turned into a freaking long one. Enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll feed you to the fishes. Very smutty, a bit of angst, hella fluff! Reader is AFAB, cocky!experienced!Eddie x Virgin!band geek!fem!reader, very slight dub con in the beginning (touching over panties, explicit consent not given), female fingering receiving, dry humping, female oral receiving, p in v protected sex. 

❤️Reblogs are what keep me going; they keep Tumblr going, and my little black heart beating. Reblog my work and I'll love you forever sweetheart. ❤️

12.5k words (oops) 

Masterlist

"You know you guys can't handle this shit!" 

Eddie laughs, nearly spilling the beer cradled in his hand. 

Steve rolls his eyes, chucking his beer top into the campfire you guys had set up for the evening, the paint sparking briefly. 

"Come on Munson, pass it round, quit being a bitch." 

"Yeah Eddie, share the love!" 

Robin giggles as she clutches her chest dramatically. Shaking your head, you shift uncomfortably on the ground. It's not that you haven't been around this sort of stuff before, people you weren't too keen on have smoked once in your company. It wasn't even a moral thing, you were just a little scared of the effect. That, and the fact you were sitting right next to Eddie Munson. 

Eddie, the guy you've literally been frightened of since you saw him leaping on tables in the cafeteria. That was some time ago, and Robin had assured you he was a good guy. You trusted her judgement completely, hence why you'd even considered going camping with the three of them for the weekend. It didn't help the fact that you were just a band geek, not used to these sorts of get togethers. Hell, your closest friends played chess for fun. This was so out of your comfort zone that you felt like a deer in headlights. Only a week ago you had your first beer, at 21; the proper age. Now you were sucking back a brew in the woods at night, sitting next to the drug dealer of the area. 

It could just be the beer talking, but Eddie looks good right now. Every time he shook his mane of hair out of his face it had you biting your lip. He threw his head back when he laughed and the sight of that stretched neck of his had you clenching your thighs, feelings bubbling up that you'd never felt before. 

So when his hand reached out and his fingertips grazed you, a blunt pressed between his thick ringed fingers, you gasped, pulling your hand away as if it had been burned. 

"Come on, take it." 

Your tongue feels thick and swollen, sticking to the roof of your mouth. Words. Think of words. 

"Can't you, erm, pass it the other way?" 

"No, it always goes to the left sweetheart." 

Sweetheart.

Glad the low light hides your blazing cheeks at the pet name, you dip your eyes downward for fear of them exposing you. You played the flute for Christ's sake. This was not your thing. 

"I-I, well, I-" 

"You not smoked before?"

Robin's voice cuts through the myriad of noises in your head, making you turn violently. 

"I just, I never-" 

"Look at me." 

Those words from him sing through your nerves, making you forget any thought you had, or anticipated. As you turn, Eddie's dark eyes bore into you. 

"You trust me?" 

No. A thousand times no.

"Yes." 

"Come here." 

He shifts and gets up on his knees, joint pressed between pouting lips as he lights it again, the cherry blazing almost as hot as your blood right now. You mimic his movements, rising on shaky thighs to kneel in front of him. 

"Right, I'm gonna take a pull, and blow the smoke, when I breathe out, you breathe in, 'kay?" 

His words are sweet, and a little condescending, an edge of talking down that just stirs up your insides further, guts a puddle. 

"Okay." 

He cups his hands to his face, gesturing for you to do the same. Raising your shaking hands, you touch them delicately with his. He flips his hands so they are on the outside, cupping yours, pushing them together with a lot more force than you did. 

He's close, so close. Your breath hitches in your throat, those deep eyes a couple of inches from yours. Heat radiates from his body, your skin itching almost from its blistering warmth. That could just be from the fire. Or the fire in between your legs. 

He smells good. There's weed there, sure, and the beer you've all been drinking, and some aftershave you couldn't place, maybe bergamot? An undercurrent lies beneath it all, of man and skin, that makes your toes curl. 

He breathes into you then, the swirling smoke trying to escape your cupped hands. 

You inhale deeply, focusing on the feel of Eddie's rough hands, on his touch. You breathe in until there's nothing left and hold it. His eyes don't leave yours, sparkling in the fire light. 

The exhale hurts more. Breathing out smoke, you revel in the fact you didn't cough or startle. The feeling of him letting go of your hands is far worse. 

A ringing, whooping noise finally reaches your ears, between the sound of your own blood pumping. Robin and Steve are cheering like morons, but your gaze doesn't leave Eddie. 

"There you go. Good girl." 

Damn. 

A sharp intake of breath pulls into your lungs and straight to your heat. The pure shock and desire those two words drew from you have you dropping backwards, butt slamming into the pine needle dusted ground. 

"Hey you OK?" Robin's hand on your shoulder distracts you briefly and you flash a weak smile. 

"Sure, just went to my head a little, I'm good." 

Eddie's hand reaches over you, passing the blunt to Robin. You dare not look him in the eye, fearful that everything you felt was written all over your innocent face. Out of your periphery, you can tell he's facing you. Suddenly the fire was extremely interesting. 

Robin has a couple of tokes, and tries a third when Steve waves at her. 

"Quit hogging it!" 

"OK, don't get your panties in a twist!" Passing it to Steve with a loud huff, he takes it and breathes deep. And promptly coughs his guts out. 

Robin and Eddie cackle, and even you can spare a giggle at the irony. 

"Told you Harrington. Even the little band cutie took it better than you!" 

"Fuck off Munson." 

Hell, he knows who I am. And he called me cute.

This is Eddie. Scary, metal head, drug dealer Eddie. Eddie who all of a sudden stirs your insides up and makes your head dizzy. Eddie who you now realise is actually goddamn gorgeous. 

Eddie takes a hit and turns to you. 

"You wanna try smoking it sweetheart?" 

Heart hammering in your ribs, you manage to speak. 

"C-can you do, that thing, again?" 

His smile is dipped in sin as he scoots nearer to you, and you copy him. Suddenly this seems more intimate, sitting on the ground, twisting to face each other, inches away. He takes a hit and holds it, gesturing at you to lean closer. The way he tilts his head, you could almost believe he's going to kiss you. This time, he cups your face, blowing smoke at you. It's so close his lips brush yours ever so softly. 

You're not sure if your inhale was intentional or a shocked gasp, but in the smoke goes. 

Did he mean to do that? 

One look into his eyes tells you yes. There's a cockiness to his grin, the devil dancing across his face. 

So, did he do it because he likes you, or is he just messing with you? Only Eddie knows the answer to that. 

You exhale, less than an inch from his full lips. Time stops. That is until Steve and his loud mouth break the spell. 

"Come on, get a room you guys!" He practically yells, throwing a twig in your direction. 

You snap your head away from Eddie and stare at Steve with wild eyes. 

"I-I wasn't, we- we weren't-" 

"We weren't? Well, that's a damn shame."

As you glance back at Eddie he's leaning on propped up elbows, looking so sure of himself that it's annoying, bordering on making you angry. 

Cheeks flooding with warmth, your mouth forms words without checking with your brain first. 

"Y-you know what you are Eddie?" 

He tilts his head at you, still smirking, and gestures a hand willing you to continue. 

"A cocky mother fucker." 

The grin falls from his face as he looks at you in shock. Robin and Steve practically piss themselves laughing at your sudden outburst. 

"Shit Eddie you better watch out!" Robin laughs out. 

"Yeah, that kitty's got claws dude." Steve agrees. 

Embarrassed at your own words, you risk glancing at Eddie. You were expecting him to be upset, angry even. That's not the case; he looks impressed. 

"Shit, yeah, I can see that. Didn't know you had it in you sweetheart." 

Smiling to yourself, you stretch your legs and wiggle your feet. You impressed him. Your turn for a smug smile. 

Pretty soon the high starts to settle in; a warmth seeps through your bones and a tingle spreads from your head into your body. It feels like you're quivering whilst sitting still. Steve offers you another beer but you turn it down, well aware that being too foggy right now would be a bad idea. Especially since Eddie has been creeping closer. Now you're side by side, hips so close any time he moves he brushes against you. 

The fire dies down, turning to embers. The beer coat has vanished, leaving you shivering. Steve and Robin are already under a blanket; you can see Robin's eyes are close to closing. 

"You ok there sweetheart? Cold?" 

"I-I'm O-OK." 

"No you aren't, you're shaking." 

Without a further word he's taking off his jacket and putting his arm firmly around you. Whatever space there was between you has melted away, sides now flush. 

You could say the same for your face. This may well be the closest you've been to a boy. Well, a man. He drapes the jacket over the pair of you, covering your crossed legs and his lap, and rubs his hand smoothly up and down your arm to warm you. Little does he know how much he's warming your insides, each stroke sending a buzzing desire through your limbs. 

Steve's chatting away; yet another story about Dustin spilling from his lips when you feel Eddie's other hand snaking underneath the jacket, coming to rest on your thigh. 

Eyes wide, you flick your gaze towards him. 

"What are you doing?" You whisper urgently. 

"Just warming you up sweetheart." 

He says it so sweetly, yet it belies the movements of his hand, moving further up your leg to run soft circles just underneath the hem of your skirt. 

You can't hear a word Steve is saying, unable to concentrate on anything but Eddie's touch and the whooshing blood in your ears. No one had ever touched you like this, not once.  

Robin's shrill voice breaks through the fizzing in your head; once again her and Steve are arguing over something. You might have heard Vickie being mentioned but you can't be sure. 

Eddie's hand trails higher, within reach of your panties. Breath catching in your throat, you mean to admonish him but all that comes out is a breathy noise. 

"Eddie…" 

He rests his chin on your shoulder, hot breath fanning your ear. 

"You want me to stop?" 

You don't answer, you can't. You're frozen, unable to move, unable to make a sound lest a moan escape your lips. 

He wouldn't dare, not with Steve and Robin here, would he?

He would. 

Eddie runs a finger gently down the front of your panties. The softest touch, a whisper of a thing. Then he does it again, up and down, pressing the cotton of your briefs into your private parts. 

You can feel your insides fluttering, a burning settling between your legs, being stoked by every barely there touch. Suddenly, he presses down on something that has you softly whimpering and clenching at nothing. A tingle shoots down your legs to the tips of your toes. 

You hear a small noise; it's Eddie chuckling in his throat. It snaps you out of your frozen state and you move to get up. 

"I'm going to bed guys." 

Standing abruptly, you let Eddie's jacket fall from you as he scrambles to keep it over his own lap. 

You turn to your tent and hear Steve and Robin wish you goodnight, and mumble about going to bed soon too. 

"Night guys!" 

"Want any company sweetheart?" 

There he is, sitting with that arrogant look on his face. 

"Goodnight, Eddie." 

You say it firmly, even though your resolve is as substantial as tissue paper. Stomping over to your tent, you turn on your camp light and sit on your double inflatable bed, hugging your knees. 

Now that you're alone you realise how much that weed affected you. You feel airy, light as a feather, fingers and toes still tingling. 

It must be the drugs. 

You focus on the reality of the situation. You just let some guy touch you down there. Eddie Munson touched you over your panties. 

So why weren't you scared? Or angry at him? It's not like he asked. The fact is that  no one's done anything like that to you before, and it felt incredible. Left you aching for more. That thought was making you more frightened than anything else. 

You listen to the group slowly pad their way off to bed, rustles of clothing, mumbled 'goodnights', and tent zips. 

To the left of your tent was the huge six berth Steve had brought for him and Robin. It was fancy, you assume he 'borrowed' it from his parents. On the cusp of hearing there was bickering. You don't know how Robin and Steve became friends, or how they maintained it since they acted like an old married couple most of the time, but it seemed to work. After a few minutes soft snores echoed from the two of them. 

No sound comes from the other side, where Eddie had pitched a little coffin tent. You wonder if he's still sitting by the dying embers of the fire. He's probably smoking. 

Stop thinking about him.

You undress, only pulling an oversized t-shirt on to sleep in since your big sleeping bag is so warm. You'd bought a double one with your birthday money last year because you hated feeling restricted. It was a luxury but with all the camping you did it just made sense. Snuggling into its spacious depths, you attempt to quiet the raging hormones coursing through your veins. 

God, why is he so annoying and smug? It burned you up, but you couldn't deny how much it turned you on. 

You slide your hand between your legs, pressing hard to try and quench the fire. He did something, you're sure of it. This wasn't natural for you, movements unsure and bordering on clumsy. When you run your finger through your naked folds you whimper, and see how wet you are. Gasping, you explore further, and find that spot, a hidden nub that sends a bolt of lightning to your core. 

"Oh fuck," you breathe out in a moan, starting to rub up and down. 

"You alright in there sweetheart?" 

Oh shit, he's right outside the tent. Was he there the whole time? 

"Yeah, what do you want?" 

"I'm cold, can I come in?" 

No.

"Y-yeah." 

He unzips the tent and enters, crouching to accommodate his height. Closing the tent up, he takes in his surroundings, letting out a low whistle. 

"Pretty sweet set up you've got here, your folks rich or something?" 

"No, I just do a lot of camping with the troop." 

"Huh?" He looks confused, falling to his knees to look you in the eyes. 

"The girl scouts, I volunteer as a leader." 

The laughter that comes from him is loud and rich. 

"Fuck, you got that little innocent act down don't you?" 

It's your turn to look confused. 

"What on earth are you talking about Eddie?" 

He scoffs at you, clearly not buying it. 

"The cute little band geek thing, helping out with girl scouts. Shit, the whole 'can you do that thing again?' " He mimics your words from earlier and you flush crimson. 

"Eddie, I honestly don't know what you're going on about. I never smoked before, I hadn't even had a beer before my 21st last week. I've never even- no one's done what you did, outside." 

Eddie's jaw may as well be on the floor. 

"You're fucking with me." 

You shake your head, lips pressed tight. 

"Well, now I feel like an asshole." He huffs out, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. 

"Well maybe you should, you never asked." 

"I'm sorry, I just- I thought you were one of those freaky band kids. You kept looking at me like you were gonna eat me alive, I thought I was in for a rough night." He laughs, shooting a gaze at you. 

"Well you thought wrong." You turn your head, arms crossed firmly over your chest. 

"I'll go if you want. Want me to leave?" 

Yes. 

"No." 

A smile spreads slowly across his face, and he inches closer to you on his hands and knees, palms splayed on the foot of your air bed. 

"So, you want me to stay?" 

"No." 

"So… should I sleep in the doorway?"

A fair question, considering your answer. You laugh, looking back at him. His smile is softer, much less mocking. It's sweet almost, sanding down your rough edges. 

"Yeah, you can be my bodyguard. Protect me from bears and mountain lions and stuff." 

He chuckles and climbs over; you lay back on instinct, further away. Leaning right over you, his face is an inch from yours, hair tickling your cheek. 

"You know, I could protect this beautiful body of yours better if I was in the sleeping bag with you." 

"You don't give up, do you?" You whisper into his skin, sounding braver than you felt. 

"It was the sweet and innocent thing, did me in." 

He plants a soft kiss to your cheek, brushing your skin, and another, to the corner of your mouth that makes you shiver. 

"Tell me to stop." 

"Eddie, kiss me." 

His mouth is on your then, hot and heavy, tongue begging at your bottom lip. You give him an inch and he takes a mile, tongue sliding against yours with practised movements. Not expecting the full force of his kiss, you suddenly realise you're moaning into his mouth, hands coming to wind into his loose locks. 

He breaks away, chuckling at the way you chase his lips. 

"You know, you don't kiss like a good girl." 

Merely whining in response, you try to catch your breath. 

"So, can I get in the sleeping bag? I'm freezing out there." 

"Fine, just, no funny business." You point your finger at him, gasping when he licks it long and slow. 

"Nothing you don't want me to do." He winks, and pulls his t-shirt over his head. 

"What are you doing?" 

He ignores you, pulling his socks off and  unbuttoning his jeans. 

"I'm getting undressed. Why, expect me to sleep in my jeans?" 

You merely screw your nose up in response. Stripped down to his boxers, he clambers his lithe body onto the sleeping bag with you, all elbows and knees. Sighing, you move over to accommodate him but he wraps his arms around you. 

"Eddie, what-" 

"I'm cold sweetheart, just, warm me up a little?" 

Your heart is hammering in your ribcage with the realisation that you're entirely out of control of this situation. You allow him to hold you, and hesitantly rest your arm over him. Your head is snuggled into his neck, feeling more comfortable than you had any right to be. 

"Eddie, your legs are freezing." 

"I know! I wasn't lying, my sleeping bag's shitty." 

He pushes his thigh between yours, and you remember a split second too late that you're not wearing any bottoms. Suddenly, his bare thigh is pressed against your naked heat. You're praying to any Gods that might be listening that he doesn't notice, attempting to stay as still as possible. 

He's warming up slowly, but you're stiff as a post, trying not to focus on his thigh and the slight pressure it's putting on your most delicate parts. 

"So, you gonna tell me what you were doing sweetheart?" 

"What?" You whisper into the soft skin of his neck.

"Well, I came out of my tent to see if you were still awake, and imagine my surprise when I heard moaning." 

"N-no, I wasn't!" 

"Quit lying, I can feel your cunt on my leg." 

You nearly choke on your own saliva. 

"Eddie, you can't just say that!"

You hit him on the chest. He just laughs, dragging your little fist to his mouth to kiss it. 

"I can when you're soaking my leg." 

Opening your mouth to respond, all words escape you. Especially when he grinds his thigh against your folds. Instead of words, a whimper breaks from your lips. 

"Yeah? That good sweetheart?" 

The smugness is back, but you can't find it in you to care, not when he rocks his hips and the force of his leg sets loose a roll of pleasure. He's hard, it's pressing into your hip. 

A lean arm curls around you, his thick thumb finding its way to your chin to lift it upwards. You stare into his darkened eyes as they dart to your lips and back up. 

All resolve is dissolved like ash in the rain as you feel the intensity of his stare and the warmth of him between your thighs. You crash your lips to his desperately, hips chasing friction. When his heavy tongue slips into your mouth you respond in kind, needy and vigorous. 

He takes his thigh away and you huff at the loss, but it's not for long, not when that hand of his is stroking down your front, lightly massaging your hardened nipples and chasing down to your stomach. He cups your mound, one finger pushing down on your swollen nub. 

"Eddie." 

It's a whimper, a plea into his open mouth. Responding by biting your bottom lip softly, he dips his finger lower, circling your entrance gently. His finger slips inside then and you clench around it immediately, moaning at the foreign feeling. It's odd, yes, but it's so good that you cry out. 

"Gotta be quiet sweetheart, don't want anyone hearing me fuck you with my fingers." 

His crude words are peppering your insides with fire, the evidence of your arousal seeping out of you. Humming in response, you bite your lip, clinging desperately to his side. 

He slowly pumps his finger in and out, watching your face. You're slick jawed, eyebrows knitted tight, hips rolling with each thrust of his hand. 

"Fuck you're so tight, can barely fit my finger in." 

"Eddie, no one's ever-" 

"Shhh, I fuckin' know sweetheart. Gonna make you feel really good. Just enjoy it." 

He curls his finger inside you, incessantly stroking at something that's making your legs tense up and your insides flutter around him, the heel of his hand flat and hard against that spot again. 

"Oh my God!" You whisper urgently, fingernails digging into his sides. 

"I know baby, feels good yeah?" 

"Uh huh" you manage to breathe out as your eyes squeeze shut. 

The pressure collating in your tummy is building and building as he speeds up, finger reaching deep inside. It releases, and flows from you, wave after wave crashing down and washing away everything but Eddie. 

You muffle your cries of pleasure in the skin of Eddie's chest, resisting the urge to clamp your teeth into his flesh.

As you come down, he releases his digit with a wet sucking sound that probably would have made you embarrassed five minutes ago, but now it's just inconsequential. 

"Still with me?" He asks softly as he hugs you close. 

"Barely" You mumble; he chuckles at your reply. 

He rolls you on top of him, moving your legs so you're straddling him. His hard on is pressing firmly into your privates, your slick dampening the front of his boxers immediately. 

"Eddie, I'm not- I can't have sex with-" 

"Sweetheart, you trust me?" 

Yes. 

"No."

There's that look again, that edge of mocking that isn't making you annoyed anymore, it's making you want to pull his underwear down and slip him inside of you. 

"I'm not gonna fuck you. Not unless you want me to. Relax sweetheart." 

His hands are on your ass, moving you against him to grind on his rock hard bulge. Your eyes widen, the friction so much better than his thigh. 

He lets out a stifled moan, and damn if it isn't the best noise you've heard in your life. 

His hands trail under your shirt as you take over moving against him, feeling the shape of him under you. Tugging at the hem, he looks up at you with pleading eyes. 

"Can I- can I take this off?" 

All feelings of modesty have fled and you whip your shirt over your head and fling it across the tent. 

"Fuck, look at you." 

Leaning forward he takes your nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue around and around. 

"Eddie, oh Holy fuck!" 

Your movements become faster and sloppy, so he grabs you by the hips to slow you down. 

"You know what I think?" He says, in between wet open mouthed kisses to your breasts, "I think you are a freak. You just didn't know it yet." He chuckles darkly, and sucks hard at one of your nipples. 

Your moan is loud and bordering on pornographic as you rut yourself against him harshly, all pretence of keeping quiet forgotten as your stomach tightens again in thick knots of pleasure. 

"Oh Eddie, I'm- I'm gonna cum oh fuckfuckfuck!" 

It all undoes at once as you release and clench around nothing, pussy throbbing with ecstasy. The bones in your body seem to disintegrate, muscles a distant memory as you flop against him. 

Eddie's not done. 

"Come on sweetheart, just a little longer." 

He encourages your hips to move again as you lay on his chest, skin glowing with perspiration. You can only grunt in response and start grinding against him again, the feeling so intense it has you clenching your teeth with pleasure pain. 

"That's it, fuck, I'm so close. There's my good girl, just, oh shit, little more." 

His praise bubbles through you and you speed up to meet his rutting hips, your slick sticking to the tops of your thighs. 

"Feel so good sweetheart, oh shit!" 

Lifting your head, you do it just in time to watch Eddie's eyes screw shut, mouth panting open with pleasure as he holds your hips in a death grip. His cheeks and neck are flushed, the vein in his neck pulsing. You press your lips to it softly, leaving feather dusted kisses over his neck and jaw as he comes down from his glowing high. 

"Holy shit." He laughs into you, kissing the top of your head over your hair. 

"Indeed" your reply is breathless as you melt into his front, attempting to ignore the stickiness. 

"As much as I'm enjoying you naked on top of me, I need to, er-" He gestures vaguely at himself with one hand. For a minute you think he's just going to go, but instead he wriggles out of the sleeping bag and whips his boxers down. 

You sit back on your heels, mouth agape as he casually cleans his spend with his underwear, wiping at the matted pubic hair. He's big; you could feel him under you but now you're faced with it you fear your eyes may bug out of your head. 

Glancing down, you can see some of his cum escaped its fabric confinement; a few drops glisten on your lower abdomen. Curiosity gets the better of you as you gather it on your fingers to feel the consistency, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. It's stickier than you thought. You bring your thumb to your mouth and suck the excess off. It's salty, and strange, but not unpleasant exactly. 

When your eyes meet again Eddie looks awestruck, staring at you with the queerest expression on his face. 

Embarrassed at being caught, you hide your hand behind your back as if scolded. 

"Sorry, was that wrong?" 

"No, fuck no," he chuckles, looking away, "just have to stop looking at me like that sweetheart." 

"Why?" 

"Hell, 'cause you're making me hard again." 

"Oh." 

You shyly put your head down and settle back down in the sleeping bag's warmth. To your amazement Eddie gets in with you. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I thought you said I could stay? Or you had enough of me?" 

"N-no, I just… well, you're naked." 

He laughs hard at that. 

"So are you." 

Nothing about this seems to phase him, but your mind is swirling around and around. You'd just had your first orgasms ever, and now you're going to be sleeping naked with a man. With Eddie Munson.  

He's so much warmer now, skin hot to the touch. Hesitantly, you rest your hand on his chest. He pulls you close, picking up your little camp light with the other hand, fiddling with it briefly before offering it to you. 

"Can you switch this thing off?" 

You reach and press the button, plunging you both into darkness. 

"Night sweetheart." 

"Night Eddie." 

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

Early morning light wakes you, filtering through the tent fabric, coating everything in a warm glow. 

Eddie is still here, laying on his back, snoring softly with you cuddled to his chest. You'd hate to admit it, but you were glad. Glad he didn't run off in the night. Glad that last night had actually happened and wasn't just your over active imagination playing some cruel joke. 

Laying there, feeling the rhythm of his breathing, you take a second to really think. 

What was actually happening? A part of you is frightened; scared that maybe Eddie sees your virginity as a challenge. Maybe that's why he stayed? You were staying another night after all. Or maybe this is a little holiday romance, something to keep him occupied whilst he's away. You'd had one before at band camp; nothing serious, just kisses and cuddles and radio silence on your return. 

What were Robin and Steve going to say? You contemplated waking him up right now to sneak him back to his own tent, but that thought went straight out the window when you caught the sound of their tent being unzipped. 

A soft bash to your tent startles you and makes Eddie snort himself awake. 

"Hey guys I'm making coffee! Come and join us!" 

Robin sings out and walks away to fuss over the fire it sounds like. 

Oh Holy shit balls. Hey guys?? She knew Eddie was here. And if she knew, Steve knew. 

Eddie smirks down at you as you stare at him with wild panic in your eyes. 

"Guess our little secret is out sweetheart." 

Before you can say a word he's unzipping the sleeping bag and fumbling about for his jeans, slipping them clumsily onto his legs. 

"Eddie!" You whisper urgently. He just chuckles. 

"What, want me to cut a hole in the back of the tent? Tunnel out?" 

He's got a point. 

"Eddie, please just don't-" 

"Hey, I ain't one to kiss and tell, relax." 

Before you can say another word he's perching a cigarette in between his plump lips and making his way out of the tent. 

Fuck. 

You pull on your clothes hastily, a skirt and t-shirt, and slide on your sneakers, attempting to untangle some of the messy bed head that had been created during the night. 

It's now or never. 

You exit the tent, attempting to look as casual about it as you can. 

"Morning guys." 

Steve smiles at you. 

"Howdy cowgirl." 

"Hi?" 

You return his greeting, utterly confused, but by the sound of Robin shushing him violently and Eddie coughing on his cigarette you can only assume he meant something by that which went over your head. Robin breaks the tension, talking a mile a minute. 

"Hey sleepy head! You want a coffee? I just made it over the fire. Crazy! I know it took forever. It'll wake you up. Not that you need waking up you're up and about and it's early! It's not like you had a long night. Well you might have how would I know anyway here's your coffee!!" 

Seems you might have gotten a little loud, why else would Robin be breaking the sound barrier? You don't say a thing, just smile gratefully and take your coffee, entirely avoiding Eddie's eyes, and try to wish the blood away from your darkening cheeks. 

"So, we thought we might have a swim in the lake in a couple hours when it's warmer, you in?" 

Steve asks and you nod, aware your voice right now is not to be trusted. 

So, after a little breakfast and small talk about the cold last night, which you put a particular emphasis on to try and explain away your little situation, you all go and change into your swimwear. 

In your tent you lay out your usual one piece, the plain black one you always wear with the troop, and the other set. The bikini you bravely bought but never wore, deeming it far too skimpy for camp. But this wasn't girl scouts. 

God damn he's already seen me naked, come on, be brave. 

Skimpy number it is. You wear it underneath your clothes and grab a towel and a book, readying yourself to join the others. 

Eddie and Steve walk ahead, talking obnoxiously loud; something you're quite glad of. At least they aren't whispering about you. 

Robin walks side by side with you, practically vibrating. 

"Just, whatever you wanna say, say it before you explode." 

The voice that exits her mouth is so high pitched you're surprised dogs didn't start barking. 

"You had sex with Eddie Munson!" 

"I did not!" 

"Totally did, we saw you!" 

You stop in your tracks, mouth hanging open.

"What the fuck Robin!" 

"Sorry, we didn't actually like, see you see you, we saw your shadows, 'cause of the light in your tent." 

"We- I- I mean, we didn't, like, have sex, we just- did something else." You settle at lamely. 

"Are you going to? He really likes you." 

You scoff at that, continuing your walk. 

"He's just trying to get in my pants, take my virginity. I doubt he'll even talk to me after." 

Robin's hand shoots out to grab your arm. 

"Oh, you don't know, do you?" 

Feeling utterly confused, you turn to face her. 

"What are you going on about?" 

"Eddie likes you, he had a crush on you in high school. He was the one that suggested inviting you and nearly killed me when I actually did." 

Your world turns sideways in your mind; everything is upside down, thoughts smashed, memories cut to ribbons in their wake.

"Huh? How- what?" 

"He was telling Steve like a week ago, I was listening in and opened my mouth as per usual. I tried to tell you, remember?" 

You rack your brains trying to come up with answers when a light bulb switches in your head. 

"Hang on, you said Eddie wanted me to go before, didn't you? I honestly thought you were just joking with me, I didn't think he knew who I was!" 

You reach the tree line and see the two boys a little further on, just on the tiny beach leading to the lake, stripping off their clothes. 

"But he was so- so sure of himself!" 

"Oh he's always like that. Pretty sure it's an act, he's actually super sweet when you get to know him." 

You look up and stare at Eddie in his swim shorts. He'd been naked last night, but with the low light and distraction of seeing his privates for the first time you hadn't had the opportunity to really look at him all over. 

He was lean and tall, but there was a broadness to his shoulders and a sinew to his muscles that made him stand out. Tattoos littered his frame, more than you thought he had but the detail was lost at this distance. You were walking closer, still staring at him, when he captures you. Smiling that smug grin of his he holds his arms out as if on display. 

"See something you like sweetheart?" 

On the edge of shying away, you look down; but then you remember Robin's words. He's the one with the crush on you. Feeling a little braver, bolstered by that thought, you walk closer, a couple of feet away from him, and stop. 

"You look really good Eddie." 

Pulling your t-shirt over your head, you smile at Eddie's reaction. Clearly not expecting such a bold move from you, his cheeks and neck are flushed pink. For once he seems speechless. You slip your skirt off and away, kicking it to one side. 

This leaves you in your tiny baby blue triangle bikini, with delicate daisies embroidered on the hem. For once, your cleavage is fully displayed, and the ties for the bottoms ride high on your hips. You slip two fingers under each tied side and pull them up ever so slightly. 

Eddie's eyes dart down and back up again, and you swear you see him swallow thickly in his throat. 

"Well, you swimming or not handsome?" 

Without a further glance you kick your shoes off and wade into the chilly water. 

OK, keep calm, just look at him now. 

Risking a quick peek back, you see him standing gormlessly on the sand, mouth hanging open. He looks so dorky, so unlike the Eddie you've seen so far that you giggle aloud. 

Steve calls out to him, already in the clear water. He's stumbling into the lake after you then as if a fire was lit underneath him. Robin makes her way in too, and pretty sure you're laughing and splashing each other in earnest, the boys taking turns in dunking each other underwater. 

Steve keeps screaming about his hair, which just makes you all laugh that little bit louder. Soon he's moping about it and swims off surprisingly fast. Robin says she wants to dry out and wanders back to the beach to read a little, leaving you and Eddie alone. 

He swims straight to you, bodies a couple of inches apart. Suddenly the water doesn't feel so cold, warmed by the heat he seems to pull from you just by being close. That ache is there again, wanting to be filled by Eddie. You try and shake the thought away. 

"Seems a little skimpy for a scout leader," he says, gesturing at your two piece. 

"Well, I don't wear this one with the troop," you reply, attempting to look blasé about it. 

"So, wore this just for me, sweetheart?" 

You shrug, but know your eyes betray you, honesty etched into the look you give him. 

"You did, didn't you? That's cute," he responds to his own question, reaching a hand up to hold you by the waist. All of a sudden his breath is in your ear, his other hand reaching up to your chest. 

"You look hot by the way, I like the little flowers," as he says it he runs a finger over the hem of your bikini bra making you shudder. 

"Eddie," you whisper, meaning to scold him but it just comes out a little too breathy for that. 

He continues to whisper in your ear, each word sending a butterfly loose in your swirling stomach.  "Wondering if I can stay in that tent of yours again. To stay warm?" 

You laugh, turning to face him. "That's not all you want and you know it." 

"Yeah?" He comes closer, lips so close to brushing yours, holding your chin between thumb and forefinger. You clench your thighs together as your eyes flutter shut. 

"Seems you want more as well," he laughs, pulling back from you. The frown that appears on your face tells him all he needs to know. 

As he moves away, his hand drops down, knuckles dragging slowly over your nipple, already pebbled by the water. 

"Maybe later princess." 

He turns to get out of the water. Furious with how forward he just was you shout after him. 

"Eddie, you are such-" 

"A cocky mother fucker?" He shouts back, stealing your thunder. 

You clench your fists, nearly losing it treading water, and decide to swim away to cool off. 

You're finding Robin's words hard to believe. He still seems so confident; maybe his little chat with Steve was a rouse to get you here so he could tease you. If he has liked you all this time, maybe it's just a sexual thing. Seduce the band geek. 

When the ache between your thighs is lessened by the burning muscles in your arms and legs you swim back to shore and dry off, laying on your towel to read. 

It's like the universe has it in for you today. A few more pages into your fantasy book and suddenly there's a sex scene. Usually, you'd just skim over the 'fruity bits' as your mom called them but now? Now it was as if Eddie had altered your brain chemistry and you found yourself absorbing every word in detail, thighs clenched together almost to the point of pain. 

"What you reading?" 

You jump visibly and look up to see Eddie couching over you, sodden locks leaving pitter patter drips on your legs. 

"Eddie, you're dripping." 

He smiles mischievously. 

"Am I making you wet, sweetheart?" 

You roll your eyes and replace your bookmarker, putting your book down to one side. 

"Yes, Eddie, I'm soaking wet for you." 

Triumph flashes over your features as you take in his wide eyes; so shocked at your reply he's nearly choking on air. 

"You are strange Eddie. You can give it but you can't take it, can you?" 

His eyebrows raise and he attempts to cover his flustered appearance. 

"I'm just surprised, I thought you were a good girl." 

Ignoring your heart thumping hard in your chest at those words, you shrug. 

"And here I was thinking it was because you've had a crush on me since high school." 

Eddie opens his mouth, and promptly closes it. When he speaks again it's quieter, almost like he's embarrassed. 

"Who- how did-" 

"Robin." 

"Of course." 

He stares at you then, all bravado gone. A moment passes where you both try and work out what this means, what the other is thinking.

Eddie coughs and stands up, breaking the spell. 

"We're heading back to have lunch, if you wanna come." 

He walks off then, not a further glance at you. Wondering if you upset him somehow, you gather your things and head back to camp. 

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

Later that evening, you're huddled around a campfire again having a couple of beers; or, in the case of Steve, several beers. Eddie had been civil, nice even, but there was no edge to him right now. You're not sure if you miss it or not, realising that you had actually grown fond of the push and pull between you, and that grin of his. 

He'd disappeared at one point, and returned a little later with his acoustic guitar; beginning playing a little aimlessly, just background music to your tiny circle. He played beautifully; it really was mesmerising to watch his fingers dance over the strings. 

"Play me a song, Eddie." You say, before you realise you were saying it aloud. 

"Yeah?" He flashes a small smile and you encourage him by placing your hand on his knee. 

"OK, just for you then sweetheart." 

He breaks into a rendition of Should I Stay Or Should I Go, by the Clash. You're almost certain it's a jab at you because of last night and your failure to make your mind up. You don't mind; listening to the rest of the lyrics you realise you're hoping he means more than just a little in-joke. If you say that you are mine, I'll be here till the end of time.

When he finishes you all clap, Robin as quickly as a bird's wings flutters, and Steve just a little too loudly, probably due to too much alcohol. 

"Thank you Eddie, that was brilliant." You smile softly at him. 

"No problem sweets." He moves to put the guitar away but you wave your arm at him. 

"Can I play something?" 

A sharp intake of breath rings out from Steve and Robin but you pay it no mind. Eddie looks at you like he's sizing you up. Seems he comes to the conclusion that you aren't just going to pull some rockstar move and smash it on the ground, he passes it to you carefully. 

You take it reverently in your hands and get comfortable with it, tuning the G string slightly as it was a little off when you heard it. 

An idea springs to mind and you grin deviously to Robin over the fire, a grin which is reciprocated. She knows what you're about to do. The Band Camp thing.

You start to play the very beginning of a song extremely loudly, singly wildly off key.

"Kumbaya, my Lord-" 

"Don't you fuckin' dare!" Eddie shouts, lurching a hand toward you to clamp over the fret. 

"I'm kidding!" You giggle, prying his fingers away. Robin's laughing and Steve looks like he's about to burst, swaying in his seat. 

"OK, no funny business." 

"Not unless you ask for it." You wink, and start to play what you had intended all along. 

"One pill makes you larger

And one pill makes you small

And the ones that mother gives you

Don't do anything at all…"

You lose yourself in the song, the melody. When you were younger you had just assumed it was nothing but a song about Alice in Wonderland. You knew better now, but it was fun to play and it suited your voice. 

As you came to the conclusion your eyes fluttered shut and you sang out the last couple of lines like no one was even there. 

"Remember what the dormouse said

Feed your head

Feed your head!"

Whooping and clapping finally reaches your ears as you open your eyes. Robin is going insane; Steve is shouting but it sounds slurred. Eddie just looks stunned as you pass his precious guitar back to him.

"You're incredible sweetheart." He looks genuinely impressed, staring at you with such intensity it makes you squirm. 

"It was OK, my strumming's a little sloppy." 

"But your voice! Jesus Christ, I've got goosebumps. You should sing, like, all the time." 

You laugh, swatting him with your hand. 

"I think that might get a little annoying." 

"I'd love to listen to it all the time." 

The sweet moment is broken by Robin gagging loudly. 

"Munson that was so cheesy I'm gonna hurl." 

He just shrugs, unbothered, and puts his guitar away. You didn't think it was too cheesy. In fact, you're breathless, thoughtless. The ache was settling back in, so deep in your bones there was no willing it away. It was clear; you needed him. Biblically. 

As that realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, a soft thud breaks through to you. Steve has fallen backwards, already snoring. 

"Well, looks like he needs to go to bed. Give me a hand guys." 

Eddie stands up and lifts Steve bodily round his waist. Robin and you hover nearby, but he doesn't need your help after all. 

Steve's giggling childishly, slurring words together. 

"Don' wanna go bed, wan' sing too!" 

"Sing in the morning, big guy." 

You help Robin tuck him into his sleeping bag, as Steve mumbles Kumbaya under his breath. 

Robin huffs. "I'll take it from here," and quieter, just to you, she whispers, "I'm putting earplugs in, go have fun." 

"Robin, I-" 

"Shhh you'll wake the baby. Just go, go!" 

You leave the tent and see Eddie sitting by the fire, rolling a joint. 

"Erm, Robin's going to bed too." 

"Oh?" He looks at you, quirking one eyebrow. "Are you?" 

"I'm not tired." 

That shit-eating grin of his is back, tugging at the corners of his mouth slowly. 

You sit down, right next to him, knees touching. He finishes rolling, licking it closed with a pointed tongue you can't help but stare at. 

As he starts smoking, you finally let loose what's been on your mind all day. 

"Why did you act funny with me? After I said you have a crush?" 

He huffs a little laugh, blowing smoke through his nose. 

"I thought that was obvious. I was embarrassed." 

"Really? I didn't know Eddie Munson could get embarrassed." 

He takes another drag and looks away. 

"Yeah, well it happens. I don't like people knowing too much about me. Rather come across as mean and scary and-" 

"-cocky?" 

"Ha, yeah." 

It's quiet again, but not a loaded quiet. You feel comfortable, almost enjoying the silence; just the slight rustle of pine needles in the breeze, and an owl hooting far away. 

"You want some of this?" 

Eddie's touch pulls you back to the moment, rough fingertips grazing you. The touch burns again, but differently this time. This time you melt under it. 

"Can you, do that thing?" You ask in a small voice. 

He smiles wickedly, straightening his legs out. 

"Come here" He says as he pats his lap. You straddle him awkwardly, not sure if this is what he meant, but a firm hand grabs you by the ass and shifts you closer to him so your chests are flush. 

"Like this?" You ask quietly, breathing the question. 

"Just like that baby." 

He takes a long toke and beckons you forward with one finger. When you're in range, nose lightly brushing his, he brings your chin toward him with one firm hand and presses his lips to your mouth. 

Stiffening with surprise, you quickly soften, disarmed by his lips. You part yours and he breathes the smoke into you, allowing you to inhale deeply. Breaking away, you exhale the smoke downwards and look into his deep eyes. 

"Do it again." 

He bites his lip and smiles, flashing his teeth. He repeats the gesture; taking a pull, smashing his lips to yours and breathing into you. He doesn't let you pull away to breathe out; instead he presses his tongue into your mouth. Smoke burns your nose as you submit to him, the kiss becoming filthy and desperate as he grips onto the flesh of your ass. 

Finally he lets up, if only to breathe. You're both panting, electricity in the air passing between and through you. 

"I like it like that." You smile, hand resting on his chest. 

"You keep surprising me sweetheart." He responds, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips. 

A fuzziness rushes through every nerve, all of your body crying out, singing for him. 

"You know, I don't mind cocky Eddie." 

"Yeah? I thought I annoyed you." 

"A little. But it kinda turns me on." You respond, rolling your hips into him.

"Oh fuck sweetheart," he roughly grips you, forcing you to do it again, "you drive me fuckin' crazy." 

He's on your neck, kissing and licking at you almost tenderly. 

"Eddie, please," you whisper, mind abandoning any clarity as he kisses you. 

"Please? What do you need, sweetheart?" 

How can you answer? What do you need?

"Eddie, I-I need you, please," you whisper into his ear, rocking against his hardening bulge. 

He bites down on your neck, eliciting a gasp to spill from your lips. 

"Tent." Is all he manages to say, and you stumble upwards on wobbly legs, to lead him to it. 

Fumbling for the zip, you just about get inside it when you feel his hands on you gently pushing you forward. A small touch is all it takes and you're falling onto the air bed, knees bending as you collapse face forward. 

He's on your back before you can think, firm arms caging you in from behind. 

"You need me? Really?" 

You nod, squirming underneath him, a small hand curling around his forearm. 

"Dreamed about you saying that, fuck." He whispers, lips pressing to your shoulder, "turn around." 

You can't find it in you to not comply. Wobbling the mattress, you twist to face him, engulfed in the intensity of his stare, illuminated by the fading light emanating from the fire. 

"Say it again." It's soft, but ironclad in the centre. 

"I need you Eddie." 

"Fuck" He huffs, moving down your torso, pulling your t-shirt up so it kisses the edge of your breasts. He looks up at you with pleading eyes; a look that turns your insides to mush. 

"Can you turn the light on? I need to see you." 

He sounds so desperate, so in need that you waste no time in grabbing your camp light and switching it on, bathing you both in cool white light. 

As he's pulling your top up, you assist and pull it over your head, flinging it to a corner. 

"You are really beautiful." He says, drinking you in with his eyes, as a calloused hand strokes between the valley of your breasts. You slide under his confident touches, getting more anxious by the minute. 

"Can I taste you?" 

You nod, and he unbuttons your skirt, pulling your panties down with a roughness that makes you flinch. You're entirely exposed. 

"I've wanted this, wanted you, for a long time." 

You wriggle underneath him, and reply. "Didn't you get me like this last night?" 

"This," he says, gesturing to your revealed flesh, "this is different." 

You don't quite get it and want him to explain further, but his lips are on your nipples and all that comes out of you is a heady moan. A firm knee pushes your thighs apart and you bend to his will, allowing him to kiss down, and down, leaving hot pressured mouth trails to your stomach. 

When his lips meet the tops of your thighs you cry out his name. 

He understands, slipping his tongue between your folds and licking at your clit with pointed precision. 

"Oh fuck!" 

A chuckle emanates from his throat as he doubles his efforts, flicking and suckling at you in earnest. Thick fingers tease your entrance and one slides into your glistening opening, pumping slowly. 

It shocks through your body, setting loose tendrils of pleasure so profound it's almost a religious experience. He prods another finger at you, sliding it next to the first and it burns, making you hiss. 

Eddie mumbles platitudes into your pussy, telling you how good a job you're doing, how proud he is, how you're a good girl. His good girl. 

The tension is unbelievable, clenching every muscle as your breath comes in short pants.

"That's it sweetheart, sing for me." 

The fingers curl, stroking something incessantly inside you that rips a sultry groan from deep within your chest cavity, and without further warning your orgasm washes through. It collects and expands, a force of nature that flies out and collides like stars in the universe.

Your back falls to the air mattress, and that's the only signal you have that it ever left. You feel soaked in your own juices, thighs uncomfortably wet. 

Eddie hovers over your face. You're not quite sure when he got there. 

"That OK sweetheart?" 

You don't reply, you can't. Your response can only be carnal, feeding into the biting, gnawing need that still refuses to lessen its grip on your core. Bringing shaking hands upward, you wind them into his hair and pull his face forcefully towards yours, tongue slipping in to taste your slick in his mouth, groaning at the tangy sweet flavour. 

He collapses against you, full weight of his lithe body pressed into yours, but it's not enough. Pulling away and leaving less than an inch of space you voice your frustration. 

"Eddie, please, I- I want you. I want you inside me, please." 

Eddie shakes his head for a second, then deep brown eyes seek yours for any doubt, and come up empty. 

"Are you sure sweetheart?" 

The nod you reciprocate with is painfully fast, hurting the muscles of your neck. He looks uncertain, but discards his clothes, kneeling in front of you in his boxer shorts. 

"I need you to be sure. I can't give it back." 

You let your legs fall further apart, giving him the view of you open and ready for him. 

"Please." 

Underwear has never been discarded quicker. He has his cock in his hand, sliding on a condom from his crumpled jeans at record speed. A second later and he's towering over you, nose brushing yours and dick lined up to your sopping entrance. 

His tip breaches you, so much thicker than his fingers, and you wince. You can tell he's trying to be careful, pushing into you slowly, watching for any signs you want to stop. 

You're so full, and he just keeps going. A moment later and you let out a little startled cry as a sharp pain shoots from deep inside. 

"You OK sweetheart?" He stops his movements, staring at your face with a worried expression. 

"I'm fine, just, go all the way" you manage through gritted teeth. 

He slips the last of it deep, deep inside as you yelp at the suddenness. Then, he's still, grabbing your hand and entwining your fingers with his over your head, his other arm holding him perfectly motionless above you. 

"That's it, you're OK, so fuckin' tight, fuck," he says to you, kissing your cheek. It burns, the feel of him, but a fullness is beginning to overtake that ache. 

"You know, I thought you were afraid of me in high school." He half laughs, kissing the tip of your nose. It's such a sweet gesture from the so-called frightening man that you giggle a little too. 

"I was," you admit, staring into his deep eyes.

"Then, we come here and you look like you're gonna eat me alive. Then, you're all innocent, and now… fuck, I can't keep up." 

You appreciate what he's doing, talking to you, distracting you from the pain. It helps; it's settled into a dull throb and your need from him is outranking it. 

"Eddie, you can move." 

With a peck to your lips he pulls out a little and thrusts back in, setting a slow and steady pace. 

This is so much better than his hands, or his tongue. On every thrust he's massaging at something that makes you moan, again and again. 

"You're doing real good sweetheart, my good fuckin' girl." 

All of a sudden you feel it, all of it. His lean weight comforting over you, the squeeze of his fingers in yours, the throb of his member inside you, his words. It's all too much. Your eyes gloss over and a tear works its way down your temple. 

"Oh shit, you want me to-" He starts as he slows down a little. 

"Don't you fucking dare, please, please, I-I need-" 

He grins at you; that self satisfied look that turns your legs to jelly. 

"What do you need, sweetheart? Whatever you want, I'll give it to you." 

"Harder Eddie, oh God!" 

He snaps his hips into you with much more force; once, twice, three times and you scream his name, pussy clenching him hard, every muscle tense. As everything unravels you go limp, whimpering at the pulse that you can feel pounding in your core. 

When your eyes finally decide to open, he's leaving kisses as light as a butterfly's wings on your cheek. 

"Woah," is all you can say, between breathless giggles. Tears are falling but you don't care enough to wipe them away. 

Eddie unlatches his hand from yours and does it himself. 

"That was so hot. You need to do that again," he whispers, beginning to grind into you slowly.

"I nearly died Eddie, it might finish me off!" 

He laughs back, but doesn't quit; hips still driving into you leisurely. 

"What's life without a little risk?" 

You stare up at him, biting your lip, a question on the tip of your tongue that you're too nervous to ask. 

"What is it?" He asks, brow furrowed, as if you were about to ask him to stop. 

"Can I… wait, don't worry." 

He does stop then, to put his hand to your face and stroke you with his thumb.

"Hey hey hey, come on, what baby?" 

You whisper it quietly, voice small and second guessing. 

"Can I try, erm, being on top?" 

You're surprised that Eddie's face didn't split in half from the sheer wideness of his grin. 

"Holy shit, yes, please." 

He winds his arms underneath your frame and flips you so fast your vision blurs, until he's underneath you. You sit up, his cock still buried within, and you gasp at the new angle. 

"Eddie, Jesus Christ!" 

Palms splayed on his chest, you control your breathing a little. This angle is devastating, pressing harshly against that place inside that has you throbbing around him. 

Eddie chuckles darkly as his hands slide over the flesh of your thighs, rubbing back and forth, until they work their way to your hips and pull you up ever so slightly, only to drop you back down again. 

"Just like that sweetheart, 'Kay?" 

He tilts his head to one side, that mocking tone fuelling the embers of your desire. Rising up on shaky knees you pull off him and slide back down, trying to find some semblance of rhythm. Your clit grazes his pubic hair on one pass and you nearly lose it completely, the feeling sending a bolt of pure pleasure up your spine. 

"Oh my God!" 

"Yeah? That good?" 

You hum and nod, words escaping you, now rolling your hips on each bounce to get that sensation over and over. 

Eddie's talking now, watching how much you writhe and whine at his words. 

"That's it sweetheart. Wanting to- oh fuck- ride me, on your first time. Oh yes, fuck, just like that- dirty, my dirty fuckin' girl." 

"Eddie, oh God, can you, fuck, please-" 

"What is it sweetheart? Anything, you can have anything." 

His words embolden you, and before you can hesitate your hands are gripping one of his and leading it to your throat. You're not sure why, but you know deep in your core that you need it. 

Eddie looks shocked by your moments but quickly recovers, fingers slotting around your throat, squeezing lightly at the sides. 

Speeding up, feeling the pressure of his hand on your windpipe, you throw your body into each movement. 

"Fuck Eddie, harder!" 

He squeezes and you let go of everything, breath leaving you. All composure, all thought. It's just you and Eddie, and his hand, and his cock. Screaming aloud, you fold almost double, collapsing into him with a shocked, delicate whimper. 

His fingers relinquish their firm grip, coming to rest on the back of your head in a comforting, tender hold. 

"I was right, you are a freak." 

Laughing aloud, you have just enough bones left in your neck to lift it ever so slightly. He looks surprised, sure, and really aroused, judging by his hooded gaze. 

"Are you not… done?" You ask, as you feel his impossibly hard length still throbbing inside you. 

"What can I say, I've got stamina." 

That smug face is back, a flash of canines and confidence. You'd roll your eyes if it wasn't so sexy. 

No time for a witty comeback though, as he holds you close to him and thrusts upwards with abandon. Colours swirl in your vision as you try to stay attached to reality, focusing on the feel of his skin, the pounding of his rhythm, and the light in his eyes. 

"Fuck I'm close, I'm so fuckin' close. You're, oh shit, so- oh God, can't believe you're letting me do this." 

Slack jawed and practically dribbling, you let him use you to chase his own release, trying to weakly meet his thrusts. A pulse deep inside is brought to your attention, and it's not yours. Looking at his face, you watch it awash with ecstasy as he holds you tightly and throbs his climax out. 

His muscles melt, holding you still but so loosely that the lack of pressure surprises you, as if you were only aware of how tight his grip had been at this very moment. 

The only sounds are the nightlife of insects around the tent, and panting, heaving breaths. Sliding off of him in an organic gesture, you curl up into his arms, finally feeling sated and at ease. 

Lips are pressed into the top of your head, kissing you over your hair. No words are spoken; none need to be. For a shining moment, this is all you need. To be held, and cared for. 

Minutes go by, and your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Before you drift off, Eddie breaks the spell cast over both of you. 

"Was that OK princess?" 

"That was incredible Eddie." 

He kisses the top of your head again, then seems to remember himself. 

"Fuck sweetheart, just, stay right there." 

Clambering to his feet he pulls the condom off, tying it in a knot and discarding it into a corner to be thought of later. He's back then, spreading your legs. 

'Eddie, you can't just-" 

"I'm just looking after you sweetheart. You got some tissues or something?"

Furrowing your brows, you point to your wash bag near the foot of the sleeping bag. He paws through it wordlessly, and brings out some tissues and wet wipes. 

"Sweetheart I'm so sorry." 

"What's wrong?" You ask, panic riding your words. 

"I've made you bleed." Eddie looks crushed, so upset at your prior pain, anguish etched into his face. 

"It's OK Eddie, it's normal." 

"You should have said. I'm so sorry." 

You laugh a little, touched by his concern. 

"I didn't know! It's alright, it doesn't hurt now." 

Placated slightly by your answer, he cleans you both up as well as he can, before slipping into the sleeping bag with you. 

A thousand questions perch on the edge of your tongue, but it's so warm, so cosy and right, that your body denies all words for a moment. 

When you feel capable of speech you look up at him. 

"Stamina, huh?" 

He flushes, looking down at your smiling face. 

"I may have tactically jerked off beforehand."

"When??" You giggle, fingers flirting over his exposed chest. 

"When I went to get my guitar." 

"Eddie, how did you know that-" 

"OK, OK!" He grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles before hiding behind it, "I didn't know, not for sure. You just looked so good in that little two piece, I couldn't hold it in." 

"Perv," you respond, but your eyes are soft. 

"Yep." 

Giggling, you slip into a calm, contented sleep in his arms.

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

You wake up a little later than intended, no doubt exhausted from last night. The tent feels empty. Upon realising that Eddie's missing a dread settles in your stomach. Bile rises as you sling some clothes on. Maybe he's had his way with you and that's it.

Exiting the tent, you see he's just by the fire, trying to get it going again, a cigarette dangling from his pouting lips. 

"Oh would you just- come on!" He says as he angrily flicks his lighter, trying to get the wood to catch. 

You smile, relief washing over you, and walk over to help. 

"I'm begging, come on- oh, sweetheart," he looks a little sheepish as he speaks to you, mumbling around his cigarette. "I was gonna make you coffee and bring it to you but the damn fire won't start." 

You giggle, and rearrange the little pile, adding a few twists of paper to the base, and hold your hand out to him. He looks at you blankly for a second, then comes to his senses, placing the lighter in your palm. 

With one stroke the papers alight, and starting to catch the rest of the twigs. The couple of logs won't take long to catch. 

"Witchcraft." 

"Nope, just girl scouts." 

"You can go back in the tent if you want, I'll make you a drink." 

"Eddie?" 

"Huh?" He turns to you, pot of water in his hand. 

"Good morning." You smile shyly at him. He grins, placing the pot on the ground and stubbing out his cigarette. Strong arms slot their way around your waist and you fling your arms around his neck, grinning stupidly at each other. 

"Good morning. Good night?" It's framed as a question, and you know what he's getting at. 

"Great night." 

Smiling wider, he presses a kiss to your forehead. Puckering your lips to ask for a proper kiss, you hear a very loud cough. 

"Good morning love birds." Robin wiggles her eyebrows at you both. You move to break away from Eddie, but he steals a kiss anyway, and pulls you close to his side, arm firmly around you. 

"Is Steve alive?" He asks, looking at Robin. 

"Well, he got up in the night to throw up, just glad he didn't do it in the tent. He's dead to the world right now. He's been singing in his sleep you know. Nearly suffocated him with a pillow." 

You both laugh at that, and then hear a loud groan from the tent. 

Eddie glances at you with mischief and shouts out towards Steve's tent.

"Harrington! Wanna sing for us, big guy?" 

"Urgh." Is the only reply. Robin rolls her eyes and busies herself with the fire. 

After a while, the coffees are ready; you all attempt to rouse Steve but he's gone back to sleep, groaning whenever you call out to him. 

Then, it's just the sad business of taking down your tent. There's a special kind of melancholy reserved for such an occasion; pretty soon there's no sign at all that it was ever there. Afraid that your memories, your feelings, about last night would fade too, you walk over to Eddie who is perched on a stump fitting the last of his things in a bag. 

"Eddie?" 

"Yeah sweetheart?" He asks, still fumbling with his bag. 

Do you still like me? Do you want to see me after this? Was this all a dream?

"Can I get a ride back with you? Steve and Robin are gonna be a while." 

You gesture over to where Steve had finally emerged, whining and packing his stuff, tent still upright. 

"Sure, anything you need." He flashes a tight lipped smile and reaches to grasp your hand briefly. 

The ride back to town with him is chatty, even if it's only surface level stuff. Your rendition of White Rabbit had him fumbling around the glove compartment and pulling out a few older classic rock tapes that you happily listened to; music was a big part of your life, at least you both had that in common. His eyes light up whenever you talk about a band or song that he likes too, gesturing so emphatically with his hand you have to remind him to look at the road. 

Pretty soon you're pulling up to a crossroads, except Eddie pulls over instead. 

"What's wrong?" 

He huffs, smiling at you sadly. 

"If I keep driving forward I've got to say goodbye to you, take you home," he admits. Your heart flutters at the admission. 

"Where do you live, Eddie?" He looks confused, but points to the left turning. 

"Eddie, turn left." 

"Really?" 

"Really. I was supposed to stay at Robin's tonight anyway." 

His grin is downright manic as he pulls back on the road, making short work of the drive to his trailer. 

He bundles you out of the van and opens the trailer door, both of your bags heaved over one of his shoulders. 

The sight of an older gentleman startles you as he potters around the kitchen area. 

"Hey! This is Wayne, my Uncle. Wayne, this is my girlfriend." 

Your eyes widen as he gives your name to his uncle and you shake hands with him, the roughest hand you think you've ever touched, but the softest grip. 

"Pleasure to meet you, miss. I'm heading out today, so I'll see you two later I'm guessing." 

He waves and smiles fondly at the pair of you, and leaves. 

"Sorry, thought he would've left already." He explains, pulling you both to the back of the trailer and into what you assume is his room. 

Allowing yourself to be led, still feeling shell shocked, you perch on the edge of his bed as he dumps the bags on the floor. 

Eddie's talking, saying how he wishes he tidied before he left, how the trailer's not much but it's home, and his uncle…

"Eddie, wait." 

He stops mid flow to look at you. 

"Girlfriend?" 

"Well yeah? I mean, if you want to. I didn't ask, did I?" He flushes pink, hand reaching up to nibble at his thumb. 

"I mean, you don't know me, really." You shrink, almost folding in on yourself. 

"Hey," he sits down next to you, stroking your jaw with his finger, "I know enough. And I let you touch my guitar. We're practically married now." 

Lips press softly to yours, a delicate touch that has all tension flying from your body in a rush. 

"Eddie…" You whisper, giving him a butterfly kiss with the tip of your nose. 

"Hmm?" 

"You smell really bad." 

He laughs and grabs you around the waist, pulling you down sharply to lay on the bed. 

"So do you." 

"A point well made." A response, but you don't move, snuggling deeper into his neck. 

"So, I've got an idea. Let's have showers, get into some comfy stuff, and cuddle. Probably got a movie or two we can watch?" 

The normalcy of the situation is surprising, but most welcome. 

Smiling wickedly, you nip at his neck and whisper in his ear. 

"One condition: we shower together." 

He groans loudly, hands stroking at any skin he can reach. 

"Fuuuck, sweetheart, I've created a monster." 

You laugh, and hold him tightly. Eddie Munson isn't so scary, after all.

Taglist (just some people I thought might like this, hope you don't mind!)

@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonfuxks

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Fear factor||Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Just as Lando finally warms up to Y/N’s pet snake, Slinky, he discovers that she’s added a new member to the family—a tarantula. And now, once again, he has to face his fears.

Word count—964

What pet next?

Lando had officially made peace with Slinky. It had taken months of patience (and a lot of bribing with kisses from Y/N), but he could now sit comfortably with the ball python slithering across his lap. Hell, he’d even taken a few selfies with Slinky, which Y/N had definitely saved in a folder labeled “My Boys” on her phone.

And now, here he was, lying on Y/N’s couch, casually letting Slinky curl around his arm as he scrolled through his phone. If past Lando could see him now, he would’ve passed out.

“You’re not so bad, mate,” Lando muttered, giving Slinky a small pat on the head. The snake flicked his tongue in response, almost as if in agreement.

Y/N walked into the room, pausing to admire the scene. “You’re officially a reptile guy now.”

Lando scoffed, not looking up. “Let’s not get carried away. I tolerate one snake. That’s the extent of my growth.”

Y/N hesitated, shifting slightly on her feet. “…About that.”

Lando finally glanced up, immediately suspicious. “What?”

Y/N bit her lip before nodding toward the corner of the room. “I, uh… I got a new pet.”

Lando’s stomach dropped. “A new what?”

Y/N smiled nervously before leading him toward another glass enclosure—smaller than Slinky’s but still big enough to house something alive.

Lando stared at it warily, his brain already cycling through worst-case scenarios. “…Please tell me it’s, like, a fish. Or a gecko. Or literally anything that isn’t—”

She tapped on the glass.

A moment later, a large, very hairy, very eight-legged creature emerged from a hideout.

Lando screamed.

Not just a startled yelp. A full-on, heart-stopping, “this is the end” kind of scream.

He bolted backward so fast that Slinky nearly went flying.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!”

Y/N winced. “Lando—”

“IS THAT A SPIDER?!”

“She’s a Grammostola pulchra,” Y/N corrected, as if that made things any better. “A Brazilian Black Tarantula. And her name is Charlotte.”

Lando’s face was pure betrayal. “Oh my—why?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!”

Y/N sighed. “Because I love spiders. And she’s gorgeous.”

Lando pointed at Charlotte, who was now sitting still, minding her own business. “NO. SHE’S A NIGHTMARE WITH LEGS.”

“She’s harmless,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “She’s actually one of the most docile tarantula species out there. They’re super calm.”

“‘Calm’ and ‘spider’ don’t belong in the same sentence!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, stepping closer to the tank. “Come on, just look at her. She’s adorable.”

Lando did not look. “Nope. Nope. This is my villain origin story.”

After Lando calmed down (which took a while), Y/N sat with him on the couch, gently rubbing circles on his back.

“Okay,” she started, “I get that you’re scared. And I won’t force you to hold her or anything.”

“Good,” Lando muttered. “Because I was considering moving out.”

Y/N laughed. “But… maybe you could just sit with me while I handle her? See that she’s not scary?”

Lando side-eyed her. “You do realize I only just got used to Slinky, right?”

“I know. And I’m proud of you.” She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Which is why I think you can do this too.”

Lando huffed, but his face softened slightly. “…She doesn’t, like… jump, does she?”

Y/N grinned. “Not unless you startle her.”

“Great. That’s so comforting.”

An hour later, Y/N sat on the floor, legs crossed, with Charlotte resting in her hands.

Lando sat a very safe distance away, watching with a look of deep distrust.

“She’s so gentle,” Y/N cooed, letting Charlotte slowly walk across her palm. “See? Just a little fuzzy baby.”

Lando’s entire body was tense. “That is not a baby. That is a horror movie prop.”

Y/N giggled. “You said the same thing about Slinky at first.”

“Yeah, but snakes don’t have eight legs!”

Y/N let Charlotte continue her slow crawl, keeping her movements steady. “She’s just curious. She likes to explore.”

Lando squinted. “Does she know she’s terrifying?”

“Not at all. She thinks she’s cute.”

“Delusional.”

Y/N smirked. “Come a little closer.”

Lando’s expression screamed absolutely not, but after a long internal debate (and some very convincing puppy eyes from Y/N), he scooted forward.

Charlotte, seemingly unbothered, remained perfectly still in Y/N’s hands.

Lando hesitated. “She’s not gonna, like… lunge at me, right?”

Y/N chuckled. “She’s not a werewolf, Lando.”

Slowly, cautiously, Lando extended a single finger, hovering just above Charlotte’s fuzzy body.

Y/N nodded encouragingly. “Go on.”

With a deep breath, Lando barely brushed his fingertip against Charlotte’s back.

The tarantula didn’t react.

Lando exhaled. “…Huh.”

“She’s really soft, isn’t she?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “…Yeah.”

For the first time that evening, he looked properly at Charlotte—not as some monstrous beast, but as an animal, just doing her own thing.

“She’s not as awful as I thought,” he admitted.

Y/N beamed. “That’s progress!”

Lando sat back with a sigh. “Yeah, yeah. But just so we’re clear—if she ever escapes, I’m moving out.”

Y/N smirked. “Noted.”

Lando side-eyed Charlotte. “And tell her if she tries to befriend me, I will scream.”

Charlotte, of course, remained unbothered.

A week later, Y/N walked into the living room to find Lando sitting near Charlotte’s enclosure, arms crossed.

She paused. “What are you doing?”

Lando didn’t look up. “Having a staring contest.”

Y/N blinked. “…And?”

“She’s winning.”

Y/N burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you like her now, don’t you?”

Lando huffed. “I tolerate her.”

But when Charlotte twitched her legs, Lando muttered under his breath:

“Nice one, mate.”

Y/N grinned. Yep. He was officially warming up.

The End (…Until the Next Pet).

[devotionlest]

*Epically punch a hole through your door to unlock it then proceeds to crashes through the the wall right next to the door* Hey can I request the survivors thoughts on the new Survivor reader who has the abilities of a Fisher?

The plot Idea or whatever you want to call this: the survivors are happy that you are around because they no longer just have to eat pizza or chicken but they are worried that when the trials (idk what they're called in lore) start you might not last that long but luckily for them you were able to take care of yourself and be a major help like: (these are just ideas for the abilities you don't have to use them) they can use their fishing rod to pull the killer or the survivors near them like Isabel's fishing rod from Smash, set a cage trap, and maybe have a harpoon for self-defense.

🎣 survivors x reader w/ fisher abilities 🐟

generally, the idea of a new survivor itself was exciting for everyone. it certainly wasn't every day that someone new fell victim to being (unfortunately) dragged into this hellish realm, so they were rather stoked and intrigued to meet you in the cabin face-to-face for the first time.

it wasn't overwhelming at all. in fact, it was very peaceful and welcoming. everyone took turns asking basic questions and greeting you, enthusiastically taking their time to get to know you. and you got along with them well! though, the most common question that everyone took particular interest in: what exactly do you do..?

it was quite a surprise to see you actually pulling up into your first round carrying around fishing equipment with an unreadable expression on your face as if this was an every day thing. some even expressed their worry that they fear you wouldn't last very long without their protection. you insisted that you could handle yourself, so everyone decided there was no time for questions and instead should be busy making it through the next hour.

as the round went on and you expressed more of your abilities, your fellow teammates eventually caught on. elliot took particular interest in your healing capability, incredibly relieved that there was another person who could help him help out everyone else. he even makes sure to spare you a slice even if you aren't very low, just making sure you that have enough to get through the rest of the round. if anyone knows how stressful it is to chase people down to heal them, it's definitely him.

not only that, but you could also lure the killer in with bait right into an efficiently placed trap! a few people seemed to favor this little ability of yours the most, using the killer's moment of weakness to slash their daggers and swords.

builderman and guest always give you a pat on the shoulder for your proficiency, constantly cracking fish related dad jokes that never fail to make you smile despite how cringe they can be. 007n7 can only force himself a smile at these jokes as well, mentally adding them to the list of 'dad jokes' he's been keeping track of for future reference.

the fact that you can do so much with your limited amount of supplies is mind boggling to everyone, basically covering every field of survival.

two time, though, takes high interest in your method. usually sticking by you during the rather calm rounds to question you. unfortunately, their touchy tendencies driven by curiosity never do seem to die down, always poking at your gear and asking you to demonstrate your abilities personally for them, only because they're so mesmerized by how easily you can swing your rod around without struggle.

chance is also one to tag along during exceptionally slow rounds, comparing the concept of fishing to the gambling he enjoys doing in his free time. at first, you thought it was kind of a stretch in comparison, but the two of you actually ended up forming a friendly bond over that conversation.

what appeared to be seemingly useless skills proved to be so much more than some had thought. despite the silly concept and initial judgement, the survivors trust in your ability to fend for yourself, praising you relentlessly by the end of the round for your helpful aid!

post script: this idea is really cute & i hope i portrayed it well enough for your standards! sorry only a few survivors are included here..i unintentionally rushed this a bit

[aphroditelovesu]

Can I request yandere alphabet for Will Graham?

❝ 🔪 — lady l: oh, I missed writing to him :( I love this sad man who clearly has mommy issues. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 💙

❝tw: yandere themes, obsessive and possessive behavior, kidnapping, mention of death, punishments and murder.

❝🔪pairing: yandere!will graham x gender neutral!reader.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Will likes to touch you, whether it’s soft or firm, he likes to have his hands on you. He’ll never admit it, but he’s hungry for touch and for your love, and he loves touching you and being touched in return.

His favorite form of affection is spending time with you, doing something you both enjoy. Will likes to take you fishing with him, to enjoy the silence with you while he gives you furtive glances and smiles that only you have the privilege of seeing.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Very messy.

Will, although he tries to fight his inner darkness, still has it and when it comes to you, your safety and happiness, he can become his most ruthless self. He will kill, disembowel and even go so far as to torture anyone who poses a risk or, depending on how obsessed he is, tries to steal you from him.

He may feel guilty about the carnage later but it won't last long. It never does when it comes to you.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Will tries to be patient with you and he is. He knows that you are stressed and scared because of the kidnapping and he will try to remain as calm and distant as possible so as not to make you more scared.

But his patience is not infinite. If you continue to reject his attempts to get closer to you, Will can and will become more firm in his approaches. His touch, which was once gentle, will become firmer and leave some marks on your skin. He will feel guilty, however, after seeing the bruises and will apologize several times. He does not want you to hate him, you cannot hate him.

Will will not mock you. He loves you too much to do that to you, to mock your pain and fear.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He will force himself into your life, his constant and eventually sole presence in your life. Will may force some touching, like hugging, holding your hand, and even kissing, but he will not sexually abuse you or do anything to that level.

Will is going to force his overwhelming love on you and that's final.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Will is careful at first. He knows that you don't feel the same way about him yet, and as much as it hurts, he can't just force those feelings on you, unfortunately.

He will show you his heart little by little, as you get used to his presence. Little by little, you will have Will Graham's heart in your hands, yours to love and care for, even to break. But don't break it, Will wouldn't be able to handle it and you would suffer the consequences.

His vulnerability will depend on how much he trusts you. In the beginning, Will will be careful not to show too much of what he feels and thinks, but as time goes by, his defenses will break down and he will be more vulnerable and accessible to you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Will is going to be upset but he understands. His ability to empathize with anyone helps him understand why you are fighting with him, rejecting him.

It hurts but he understands.

Will will avoid taking it out on you and will try to calm you down, whispering in your ear as he ties you back to the bed. He can't risk you getting hurt or hurting him, so Will can and will restrain you if necessary.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No, it's definitely not a game for Will. He loves you more than anything in his life and he wants you to love him back.

He hates it when you try to run away from him because that's a form of rejection and Will doesn't accept rejection from you in any way. He'll drag you back home screaming and kicking if necessary, but if you won't run away and any freedom you had before will be taken away.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

If you try to run away from him, Will is going to become more firm and cold, even aggressive in his approaches. If you had any freedom before, you will no longer have it. Every day and minute of your life will be spent with him, locked in the house. Will would be so paranoid about the prospect of you running away that he would follow you even to the bathroom if he could, but usually he waits outside (if it is platonic).

There will be no privacy, not a single minute of your life will be spent alone, always with Will's watchful eyes on you. Will is going to make sure you know that you made a grave mistake by betraying him in this way and will make you feel guilty.

Will is an excellent manipulator, after all.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Will would like to settle down in a more secluded location (more than where he lives) with you and your dogs. If he is a romantic yandere, Will would like to marry you and have children, whether adopted or biological, he wants a family with you either way.

The ideal future for him is for you to be isolated from the rest of society and together forever. With a dog and human family to come.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Will gets jealous very easily, especially if it's early in your relationship.

He doesn't fully trust you yet and knows that you're not completely comfortable with him yet, so he's more likely to get jealous easily. Will won't kill anyone who looks at you, but he will get upset about it, especially if your attention isn't on him.

Will is more likely to isolate you if he gets too jealous; if you had any contact with friends or family, you won't anymore. Not until you learn that you belong to him. And you will learn.

You won't have much of a choice, not when he's your only companion.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Will is very affectionate with you. Although he is not the biggest fan of physical contact at first, as your relationship progresses, he will feel more comfortable showing himself to be needy.

He touches you whenever he can, even if it is in subtle ways. A hand on your shoulder, lifting your chin, caressing your face and kissing your forehead affectionately. Will likes to show that he loves you in a physical way.

He likes to kiss your lips, whether it is a chaste kiss or a more passionate one, but your mouth on his is something he really enjoys, even if it was a forced kiss.

Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Will is more subtle about how he approaches you. He'll watch you from afar at first, his eyes never leaving your form, afraid that you might disappear if he did.

He's not necessarily shy, just... Bad at approaching you directly, insecure, although once he becomes more confident, Will will be more direct and make it clear that he's interested in you. He'll probably even come up to you and ask you out if he's more confident, but at first he'll just watch you from afar.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes and no. Everyone already believes that Will is weird, that there is something wrong with him, and Will doesn't really care what these people think, but he does care what you think.

Will doesn't want you to be afraid of him unless it's absolutely necessary. If it's not necessary, he'll try his best to hide his dark tendencies for your sake, smiling gently as he touches your hand and dismisses your concerns.

But if Will is in a really difficult state of mind, he'll be more rigid and even more controlling, the mask he wears with you slipping for a moment.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Will is never going to physically hurt you on purpose. He will never raise a hand to you, he doesn't want to and he knows it would be pointless anyway.

His punishments are simpler but effective. Will becomes more controlling and you can't even breathe wrong around him, because you will receive harsh looks. The way he touches you will be firmer, squeezing your arm lightly or staring at you in a way that will make your blood run cold.

You will feel his disapproval, the hard look that will never leave you. And he knows it is enough to scare you.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Will is going to take away your privacy rights and obviously your right to leave the house.

He doesn't want you to feel bad, he really doesn't, but Will won't let you go or let you have any privacy. He loves you too much to even consider the idea that there is some part of you, something about you, that he doesn't know. No, Will wants to know everything about you, from the moles on your body to your most embarrassing childhood moments.

Don't hide anything from him because he will find out and he will be upset that you "hid" it.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Will has this whole empathy thing going on, so he knows what you're going through, what you're feeling. He knows you're scared, and even though it hurts, he understands.

He'll try to be as patient as possible with you, giving you space and trying to make you comfortable with your new life with him. He'll do whatever he can to help you adjust to your new life.

Will knows how to be patient, after all, he's a good fisherman.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you die, Will is going to kill himself. It's that simple. He can't bear the thought of living without you, of never being able to see your smile, hear your voice, smell your scent again... He can't and he won't. He will follow you even in death.

If you leave him, if you manage to escape, Will won't stop at nothing to find you. He will turn the whole world upside down looking for you until he finds you. Nothing can stop him from looking for you, and once he finds you, Will is going to be sure that you will never be able to escape again.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Yes, Will feels guilty about kidnapping you. It was a carefully thought-out act, but one he felt was necessary. The world is becoming more and more dangerous, and he can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt or, God forbid, dying.

But he will never let you go. As his overprotectiveness increases, you will find yourself further and further away from freedom. Will can’t let you leave, not when it’s so dangerous outside.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Will has been alone for most, if not all, of his life. Although he has grown accustomed to being alone, that doesn't mean he likes it.

He has always wanted someone to fill the void he felt inside himself and that void was filled when he met you. You were what he had been searching for his entire life and he knew he had to have you.

You are his salvation.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Will hates it when you cry, and even more so if it's his fault. He'll try to comfort and calm you as much as possible, holding your shaking body against his, stroking your head while whispering that everything will be okay, that he's here and that he's not going anywhere.

He doesn't like it when you yell at him. It hurts his ears and he'll calmly tell you to stop, but if you don't, he might have to lock you in your room until you do.

Will will give you your space (as much as he can) if you want to be alone for a while, but he won't like it if you isolate yourself and he'll have to do something about it. Probably by standing next to you like a statue, making sure you don't try to do something stupid.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Will is softer in his approach to you if you are nice to him. However, if you are mean to him, Will is going to become mean to you as well.

He wants you to be happy with him and will do everything he can to make that happen, but if you don't cooperate, he will simply stop trying and become colder and even cruel to you at times.

The way he treats you depends on the way you treat him.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Will is not so easily manipulated, so you won't be able to manipulate him to run away. He can see through your intentions and will be sullen about it.

His biggest weakness is you, ironically. If something happens to you, Will is going to definitely lose what little sanity he has left. You could get very sick or seriously injured and get him to take you to a hospital, because Will won't let you die, and you can try to get help but it will be difficult, not with him glued to your side like your own personal guard dog. But if he catches you doing that, he will never trust you again.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

No. Will would never lift a finger to hurt you. He might do it unconsciously, but he will definitely feel guilty and apologize.

He can't stand the sight of bruises on your beautiful skin.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Will adores you completely.

You are his personal deity. And he, as your servant, exists only to worship and protect you completely.

Will would go to any extreme for you. There is nothing this man wouldn't do for you, just love him back and you will have anything you desire.

Will wants to be loved by you, accepted for who he is, and if you give him that, he will be over the moon.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A few months at most.

Will is careful when planning things and kidnapping you takes time, disappearing with you without leaving any possible evidence or suspicions about him.

So you would have a few months of freedom until he decides it is time to take you for himself.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Maybe, but not on purpose.

Will is already broken and he knows how horrible it feels, so he wouldn't want to do the same to you.

He loves who you are and wouldn't want you to change, to become a shell of what you once were. If Will did end up breaking you, it would be unintentional and he would try his best to try to "fix" you again.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Gravity Part Three

Part Two

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

Notes: Welcome back to part three another accidental three-parter (which may be getting an explicit bonus chaptre in the near future). Not beta-read.

Rating: M

Length: 3.2K

Warnings: Yearning (a frickin lot); slow burn; coworkers to friends to lovers; angst; fluff; canon-typical (and likely inadequate) medical chat; fluff; Reader is roommates with Ellis; Jack 'Prolonged Eye Contact' Abbot

Summary: It had been a while since you’d found his lingering gazes intimidating, and you were almost ashamed to say that you’d begun to seek them out when the two of you were alone—but when you were around other people, there was still a fear there for you. Fear that someone (namely Ellis) might pick up on your behavior the way they had before. Call it your interest, your infatuation with Abbot—whatever it was, you had only sunk deeper over the last few weeks of slow day-off walks, and hours spent together on your couch, working your way through Frank Herbert’s first behemoth. 

“I can’t believe you read ahead.” 

“I can’t believe you’re still hung up on that.” 

“I’m not hung up. Not pleased, but I’m not hung up.” 

“If you weren’t hung up, you wouldn’t still be talking about it,” You teased in a sing-song tone, pulling Jack’s copy of Dune out of your backpack and holding it out. “You got something for me?” 

“I’m still finishing up yours.”

“I told you this would happen.” 

“You read ahead, I’m behind. The yin to my yang.”

“Uh-huh,” You chuckled, still poking through your locker. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, but Abbot’s teasing still felt a little too close at work. It was different outside of the Pitt—you could almost handle it at your apartment, at the bookstore, at Marshall’s. Your little reading hangouts (you refused to call them dates) and occasional walks on your off-days had nearly acclimated you to Abbot’s dry humor. 

It had been a while since you’d found his lingering gazes intimidating, and you were almost ashamed to say that you’d begun to seek them out when the two of you were alone—but when you were around other people, there was still a fear there for you. Fear that someone (namely Ellis) might pick up on your behavior the way they had before. Call it your interest, your infatuation with Abbot—whatever it was, you had only sunk deeper over the last few weeks of slow day-off walks, and hours spent together on your couch, working your way through Frank Herbert’s first behemoth. 

“If anything, it’s your fault, you know,” You added, “The fact that I read ahead, I mean.” 

“Oh, is it?” 

“Mhm.”

“How do you figure?” 

“You’re the one who got me into the series—how many are there, anyway?” 

“Herbert wrote six, but his son picked up the mantle after him.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” 

“The hell are you two chatty Cathies doing?” 

Ellis’ voice startled you, and you whirled around so fast that your elbow whacked into the locker. You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to hold eye contact with her, even as she and Abbot shared a glance. 

“You okay?” Abbot asked. 

“Mhm,” You gritted out. “Funny bone.” 

“Doesn’t look like you found it funny.” 

“Sounded hilarious, though,” Ellis grinned. 

“Always the charmer, Parker,” You grumbled, straightening your arm out and rubbing over the throbbing joint. 

"You're reading Dune?" Ellis asked, nodding to the book in Jack's hands. Your heart stuttered at the question, heat prickling at the back of your neck as a cold sweat popped up across your forehead. You hurriedly turned back to the locker, fishing into your backpack as your mind began to race. Shit shit shit.

"No—Well," Jack corrected, "We've been reading it, but someone finished without me." 

"Crying out loud," You muttered. "You've read it before, so you’ve technically finished it without me a bunch of times."

“That’s different.”

"...We." It was half a question, half a realization as Ellis repeated it, and it hung heavy in the air. You yanked your water bottle out of your locker, shoving the door shut once, then again when the corner of your bag stuck out just a little, keeping it from closing fully. 

"Were you gonna let anyone else in on your little book club?" Ellis pressed, and despite the teasing mirth in her voice, your stomach twisted with nerves. 

"If you were interested in the books we've been reading, sure," You excused, keeping your gaze on the lid of your water bottle. "I'm gonna go fill up—'scuse me." You cut between the two of them, keeping your focus firmly forward as you headed for the staff room. Your palms were sweating where you clasped the water bottle, your heart pounding in your throat. 

So you'd been reading with Jack—so what? Why were you so mortified? 

Your little book club—god, it made you feel like a tween whose mom had just embarrassed them in front of their crush. 

You opened the water bottle focusing on the sink, the soap, your hands as you washed it. 

Maybe you shouldn't have left so fast. Was Jack going to tell Ellis that he'd been going over to yours for weeks now, reading on your nights off? That the two of you had spent so much time together off-shift that you almost began to expect to see him outside of the ED at least once a week? Well, Jack could never know that, probably didn't feel the same about it, but—What the hell did he feel about it, if he felt anything? 

"...Kid." 

You startled, looking up to find Dana watching you amusedly just a couple of feet away. You glanced between her, the empty coffee pot she was holding, and the running water. 

"Shit, sorry," You scooched out of the way, pulling your water bottle out of the sink and grabbing a few paper towels to dry it. 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah! Yeah, no, yeah, I'm good. Fine. Just," You raised a hand, waving toward your head, "Zoned."

"Little early in the shift for you to be this off your game." Dana stepped in front of the sink, running the coffee pop under it and swishing out the dregs before filling it with water. "You need some of this?" 

"Maybe a bit later. I should hydrate first."

Dana hummed sympathetically. "What's buggin' ya?" 

"No, nothing." 

You knew by her sidelong glance that she didn't buy your answer for a minute.

"If you say so." 

"I'm good, honestly," You swore. "What's got you in here this late, anyway?" 

"Lena called out."

"Were you on this morning?" 

"Nope."

"That's good, at least." 

"Little miracles."

You smiled, leaning against the counter and watching her make coffee. "Our days hinge on 'em, you know."

"What?" 

"Little miracles."

Dana smiled, nodding as she reached out, pinching your cheek. "They sure do."

You were just a couple of steps away from the door before she called out to you again. You turned, twisting the cap more tightly on your water bottle as you waited. She gave you a once-over, a small wrinkle in her brow. 

"You sure you're okay?" 

You hesitated. Physically, sure, for the most part—though you had a brand new lump in your throat that you couldn't seem to swallow past, and the closer you got to the door, the more your stomach twisted with nerves. 

But nothing about what had happened by the lockers left you unable to focus on the work, the job, the people that needed you. So you gave a smile, a firm nod, swore, "I'm fine," And forced yourself out to central. 

-- 

“BP’s 70 over 40!” 

“Son of a bitch,” You hissed, rounding the bed as you hurriedly pulled gloves on. You opened your mouth to run through an assessment, what you knew, what you needed to check, but—

“The hell happened?” Shen asked, following you in. 

“Ah—Patient presented shortness of breath, minor chest pain, I thought bronchitis—”

“Physical tenderness?” 

“None that he indicated during the examination. He’s been dealing with seasonal allergies, thought he had a cold or something, said he only came in because his wife made him, but—” 

“Any falls?” 

“Not that he told me.” 

“The bruising would indicate otherwise,” Shen nodded to the man’s chest. 

“He told me he was rough housing with his kid.” 

“X-ray?” 

“He didn’t want one, I couldn’t talk him into it.” 

“Did you stress the importance?” 

“What are we looking at?” 

Your ear just barely caught on Abbot’s voice as you pushed back at Shen:

“Of course I stressed the importance, but he wouldn’t listen to me.” 

“Well you obviously missed something here.” 

“Yeah, no shit, Shenlock.” 

“Hey!” Abbot snapped, and you glanced doggedly toward him, “Cut the bickering. Let’s get set up for an x-ray,” He insisted, rounding the bed and nudging you back. “You, go get some air.” 

"But—" 

"Go." 

Flat, firm—faceless. Abbot issued the order without meeting your eye, still bent steadily over the patient. Your mouth worked wordless for a few seconds, eyes darting to Shen, Ellis, Perlah—and then you were turning away, yanking the PPE roughly from your body and cramming it in the bin as you shoved through the doors. 

You didn't meet anyone's eyes as you rounded outside. You hadn't realized how short your breath was until you were outside, how tight and tense you were holding your body until you were hit with the cool night air, and the waft of cigarette smoke. You pulled in a breath through your nose, struggled to swallow, puffed out through your lips.

"You okay over there?" 

Dana's voice didn't catch you as off-guard as it had just a couple of hours ago, but it wasn't as welcome in that moment as it had been the first time. You tucked your arms across your chest, slouching against the wall near the entrance as you nodded. 

"Want a cigarette?" She prodded.

"I don't smoke."

"Expression like that, maybe you should start." 

And it made you laugh—but that laugh kickstarted a hiccuping, helpless sob that spilled out of your mouth before you could even register it had welled up in the first place. You slapped your hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking as your body was wracked by another, though you managed to keep it quiet this time. 

"Whoa, hey—" Dana soothed, flicking her cigarette away as she hurried to close the gap between the two of you. "I was kidding. I'll keep the lung cancer to myself."

It made you laugh again, though you didn't want it to. She rested her hands on your shoulders, watching you closely as you scrubbed your hand over your face, clearing the few tears that were fighting to escape your eyes. 

"What's going on with you, huh?" She pressed. "Somethin's been off all shift." 

You shook your head, pulling a deep breath in through your nose. "I feel so fucking dumb." 

"Dumb? Why?" 

You shook your head again, forcing yourself to pull in another deep breath, hold it, push it out between your lips. 

"I fucked up."

"The patient gonna be alright?" You shrugged, nodded, and Dana gave your shoulders a squeeze. "That's all that matters. So you fucked up, who hasn't? I know you. If you're this torn up, you won't make that mistake twice. Don't be so hard on yourself." 

You nodded a little, lowering your gaze to the ground. 

"Yeah," You reluctantly agreed. Dana smiled, patting your cheek. 

"Don't stay out here too long, okay? Better to jump back in with both feet."

You gave another nod, forced a small smile, held it until Dana was inside and out of sight. You tipped your head back against the cool brick and peering up at the ceiling of the ambulance bay. No, you sure as hell wouldn't be making that mistake twice—not with another patient, and not with Abbot. 

You tipped your head to the side as you heard footsteps, ready to straighten up, to be herded back inside by Dana—but the sight of Shen made regret well up in your stomach. You looked down at his hand as he held out a sugar-free can of Monster, and smiled in spite of yourself as you took it. You cracked it open, lightly cheers'd it against the can in his other hand before you both took sips. 

"...What've we got in there?"

"Pneumothorax."

"Son of a bitch...I was out of line. Should've listened. Sorry."

"S'okay," He shook his head. "I shouldn't have dismissed your work-up so quickly." 

"Even though it was wrong?" 

"It wasn't wrong, just not complete. ‘Sides, I talked to Perlah—She confirmed the guy never mentioned a fall, tenderness, didn’t so much as flinch when you examined the area. Shortness of breath, minor chest pain, coupled with his seasonal allergies and the congestion—Bronchitis was a valid diagnosis. You didn’t have all the pieces." 

You smiled, raising your hand and lightly punching him in the arm. "Ya big softie." 

"Okay, watch it with that. I'm a very authoritative attending."

"Uh-huh." 

"You good?" 

"Fine." You glanced doggedly toward the door. "How is it in there?" 

"He's stable."

"Good." You took another slug of the Monster, swallowed, sighed, and finally straightened. "I should get back inside."

"Yeah...Hey."

"Hm?" 

"You good?" 

You frowned, shaking your head. "Course." 

"Dana gave me a look on the way out here.”

“Oh, that—Pff,” You waved him off. “No. That was nothing.” 

“Didn’t seem like nothing.” 

“Nothing,” You insisted firmly. You raised your Monster to him in a mock salute before forcing yourself back inside. 

--  

He hadn’t texted or called that he’d be coming over. You’d hardly spoken to him for the rest of your shift, had fallen back into your old routine—dodging his glance at every turn, avoiding his eye across central, glancing toward him but not at him when answering. 

The closest you’d gotten to meeting his eye when he’d arrived was spotting him through the peephole. You’d known that you didn’t have to answer the door. It was your night off—maybe you had plans. He didn’t know you were in there. 

But you drew in a deep breath, held it, pushed it back out, and unlocked the door. You stepped back as you opened it, gaze set on his chest, then dropping to your book as he held it out. You hesitated before reaching out, taking hold of the copy. You turned away, the door open, leaving it up to Jack whether he came in or not. 

You heard the door click shut, heart leaping as it was followed by the soft thud of Jack’s shoes as he followed you into the kitchen. You unthinkingly got a mug down from the cabinet, busying your hands and focus as he stopped entirely too close to you at the counter. You didn’t ask what he thought of the book—you didn’t even ask if he wanted coffee. You just fixed it the way he liked it and set it down in front of him. 

You knew you should look. You could feel him watching, waiting for you to turn. 

“It was good.” 

Your browns tipped up at his assertion, and you reached out, thumbing the book. He went on: 

“I mean, opening with the murder caught me off-guard in the first place, but following them further and further down the rabbit hole was dizzying. I was almost hoping they wouldn’t do it, you know, I’d started to like the guy, but I knew what was coming.” His fingers rested on the side of the mug, tapping against the curve and smoothing over the handle. He had a sip, set the mug down, took a step closer. Then—

“Why didn’t you tell Ellis I was coming over?” 

Your stomach churned, your clammy hands bracing on the counter as you shrugged. 

“She doesn’t care that you come over. And I didn’t wanna make it seem like this is anything more than it was—is. You know.” 

Jack let out a soft, “Hm,” taking another step closer, his chest lightly brushing your shoulder. 

“Anything more than it is,” He repeated, and before you could nod again, he plied: “What is it?” 

Your mouth opened before you abruptly closed it again, shaking your head. 

“I don’t—” 

“You don’t what.” 

“I’m not—” 

“You’re not what—” 

“Oh my god, could you just stop talking for five seconds so I can think?” You snapped, raising your hand to scrubbed your hand across your forehead. Jack went blessedly quiet for a second, two, then—

“Last night—”

“Holy shit, you just can’t help yourself.”

“I wanted to ask—”

“Shen and I are fine.”

“Okay.”

You pulled in a deep breath again, pushed it out again. “Not that you were really worried about that.”

“Sure I was.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. It’s important that residents and attendings are all on the same page, gelling, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“...We’ve been gelling.”

“We all gel. I gel with Ellis, Ellis gels with Shen, Shen gels with me, Ellis gels with you—”

“Please stop saying ‘gel.’” 

“You started it.” 

“That one’s on me.” 

“And last night was on me.” 

“...You thought it was the right course of action. You won’t make that mistake twice.”

You scoffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Dana said the same damn thing.” 

“She’s right.” 

“Mm.” 

“...Why didn’t you tell Ellis I was coming over.”

“I told you why.” 

“Look at me and tell me again.” 

“I can tell you just fine like this.” 

“Jesus,” Abbot pushed off of the counter beside you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, slamming your hand on the counter before you forced yourself to turn around. 

“Hang on—Please.” 

Jack stopped just in the doorway, turning to face you. Your eyes dropped to his throat, flickered to his face, lowered again as your heart ticked up in your chest. 

“...I didn’t tell her because I didn’t want her to make assumptions.” 

“About?” 

“Us.” 

“What would she assume?” 

“Don’t make me say it,” You pleaded, scrubbing your hand across your brow. Abbot took a step closer, dipping his head to try and catch your eye. 

“Not like saying it would change anything,” He insisted, “We’re both thinking it.” 

“Are we?”

“Sure.”

“But are we both wanting it?” It fell out of your mouth before you could stop it, your fingers flexing and curling around the edge of the counter as you eyed the floor, waiting for his answer with baited breath. Another pause, another step closer. His shoes entered your field of vision. You saw his hand lift, hesitate, stall—before he cupped your chin, fingers curling gently around your jaw. Your eyelids fluttered closed, lower lip pulling between your teeth as you held still, praying that your traitorously pounding heart didn’t sound as loud as it felt. 

His breath swept lightly over your skin before you felt the warm pressure of his lips against your eye lid. Your lips parted in surprise, pulling in a stunned breath as he kissed one, and then the other. You felt his nose nudging against yours, his lips ghosting across yours—and leaned up to chase the heat of him as he began to pull away. Your mouth pressed softly, clumsily against his for just a moment before you drew back, eyes opening as though you’d just been shocked. 

You expected an equally surprised look from Jack, but you found him watching you with a warm smile, and a twinkle in his eye that you’d never seen before. Your eyes lowered to his lips as he leaned in again, catching your lips in a warm, steady kiss. You tipped your chin up, mouth working tenderly against his as he crowded you back against the counter.

You curled your arms around his shoulders, fingers combing through the hair at the nape of his neck as his tongue teased along your bottom lip. You pouted what Jack leaned away just enough to break your kiss. 

“Is this what you meant by ‘gelling’?” You finally teased, smile pulling wide to mirror Jack’s. 

“Definitely not,” He chuckled. “Unless you’ve been doing this with Ellis and Shen and I don’t know about it.” 

“Never pegged you as the jealous type, Dr. Abbot.” 

“You’d be surprised.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mm.” Jack dipped his head, catching your lips in another kiss. “By the way…”

“Mm?” 

“Don’t think,” He turned his head, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “That this gets you out of trouble,” Along the curve of your jaw, “For finishing Dune without me.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “My curiosity got the better of me…I’m kinda glad I read on without you, though.”

Jack leaned back, brow furrowed, and you gave another small shake of your head. 

“Leto and Jessica,” You clarified. Then, with a self-conscious chuckle: “I cried.” 

Jack’s face softened, his knuckles gently skating over your cheek. 

“I wish I had been here for that.”

“No, no. I would’ve been mortified.” You turned your head, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before you nodded down the hall. “Wanna come help me pick out the next book I give you?”  

“Sure.”

You leaned up, pecking his lips again before sliding out from between him and the counter, taking his hand in yours.  “C’mon…You bring me another book, by the way?” 

“Course I did. You’ve gotta read Dune Messiah sometime.” 

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

 ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @artsymaddie

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@friska101-cg ; @andabuttonnose ; @deerandbunnies ; @qardasngan ; @orodaeh ;

[celestiamour]

ft. katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, finnick odair, johanna mason, haymitch abernathy, effie trinket, gale hawthorne, annie cresta (separate) x gn! reader — the hunger games

╰₊✧ reacting to you being flirty with them┊0.5k words

contains: some suggestive comments, i think that’s it

➤ author's note: hunger games brainrot had hit me hard, i need to read the books

katniss everdeen has to do a double take sometimes because, even though she now knows she’s conventionally pretty, she assumes most people find her disagreeable and didn’t really think you would be any different. she’s definitely the most awkward about it though, saying a curt thanks before walking off to process what just happened because she still doesn’t know how to handle so much attention on her.

peeta mellark gets embarrassed easily and has his mouth slightly agape like a fish out of water at your words. his reaction will only spur you on to continue and maybe even go a bit further until he’s a pink, stuttering mess who is trying to cover his face so you don’t comment on it.

haymitch abernathy will scoff and take another sip of his whiskey, telling you that you shouldn’t be getting mixed up with a troubled old man like him any more than you already are. if you’re persistent, however, he may humor you and say something back if he’s really letting the booze flow, but you’ll need to test your luck and see.

effie trinket will giggle with an exaggerated "oh my!" definitely the most flattered of the bunch, especially if you compliment the effort she puts into her appearance. most don't look too much into it or straight out find it to be tacky, so she genuinely appreciates your words. will probably say something that her clothes would look better on the floor of your bedroom if she’s feeling cheeky with a wink and would blow a kiss in your direction.

finnick odair will match your energy and tease back until you two are exchanging compliments and flirtatious comments like a ping-pong match. the type of conversation that will make everyone else nearby groan or get embarrassed and yell to “get a room.”

johanna mason will match your energy tenfold until you’re the one who is on the receiving end and getting flustered at her comments ranging from how cute you are when the tables turn in you and how sexy you are when having the guts to flirt with her (most people are a bit put off by how intimidating she usually is).

gale hawthorne would try to keep his cool demeanor, staying nonchalant and replying smoothly like it’s nothing. however, he’a a bit too casual about it so you’ll be led to believe he’s just not into you like that or didn’t like what you said, but then he’s confused about why you don’t seem as enthusiastic as you did earlier and assumes the same things you’re assuming— the point is, you need to keep communication open.  

annie cresta will stutter and trip over her words, blushing a bright red when she realizes you didn’t hear what she said, and might end up running away to recollect herself. she’s always been shy, but she’s become even more timid with fear after winning the hunger games. after the first shock though, she’s a lot less shy now knowing what to expect, and might even flirt back if you catch her at the right time. 

[eternally-racing]

baby steps | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x wife!reader (plus their adorable lil kiddo) 

genre: fluff

warnings: none 

word count: 2.5k

summary: Lando needs a little bit of encouragement to head off to his first race after the birth of your daughter, so what better thing to do than surprise him on race day?

note: this fic can be read as a stand alone or as part of the racer girl series !

---

When you first showed Lando the two lines on your positive pregnancy test, your entire world had changed. It felt like such a whirlwind of excitement, and before you knew it you were 9 months pregnant watching Lando’s races on television. It was pure luck that your water only broke the day after the season ended, which meant that Lando had a cherished couple of months with your baby girl, Piper, before heading back to racing. 

The two of them had become quite the dynamic duo in your household. From the moment that Lando first looked at your daughter, he knew that he was in love. He was an amazing father and you told him exactly that at every moment you could. It was one of the biggest fears that Lando had, being an absent father or not knowing what to do. Before you met Lando he was fully in his bachelor lifestyle, not once even thinking of kids, but now he was the biggest girl dad you’ve ever seen, giving into your daughter’s every whim. It’s exactly why Lando says he wants to give up racing all together once he sees your daughter cry for the first time when he leaves to go to the MTC for the first time since she was born - he would do anything for Piper, he would give up everything he loved if it meant that his little girl would be happy. Luckily, he had you to keep him grounded, and after more than a couple of tearful conversations you had helped Lando make peace with continuing on with his career with you and your daughter there to support him in the background. This was the first week that this was truly going to be tested though, since it was finally time for him to fly to Bahrain. 

“Say goodbye to daddy!” you say as you pick up your daughter’s hand to make her wave. 

You can see the way the wheels are turning in Lando’s head as he stays frozen in the entryway. He’s not forgetting anything, there’s no way he could with your packing lists that he’s used for every single race since you started dating. Even if he did forget something, he knows he could easily get someone from the team to either shop for him or send it over.

“Y/N I - , I don’t know anymore about this,” Lando mutters with his grip on the door handle loosening. 

“Lan, cmon now, I can’t have two babies in this house at once.” you joke as you pinch his cheek. “But seriously, you’re gonna be okay? Just do your best out there. I’m only a phone call away all the time if you need me. You’re going to be great and we’re cheering you on from here. I’ll send you all the pictures and videos and everything so it’ll feel like you’re still with us.”

While Piper can’t talk yet, she still reaches out to Lando to gently pat his shoulder - which only brings more tears to the forefront of Lando’s eyes. He always said his daughter was smart beyond her years, able to sense things even some adults don’t notice. 

“What if Piper can’t fall asleep without me reading her story? What if she learns how to walk before I’m gone? Or what if she forgets that I even exist?” 

“First off, I have memorized “the Rainbow Fish” perfectly from the 7 different times you taught me it. She’s not going to walk because she’s barely 8 months old. And lastly, she’s not going to forget you Lando, I promise you that. Do you trust me?” 

Lando doesn’t miss a beat when he says “always.” 

You hand your daughter off to Lando’s arms in exchange for the carry on that’s currently in his hands. You know that all he needs to do is hold her, to remember that feeling of being with her so he can keep that memory with him for the week ahead. You’re not the only one who’s noticed the way that Piper always immediately seems to calm down whenever she’s in her dad’s arms. There was something special between the two of them, something so unbreakable - which is exactly what you tell Lando. 

“Plus I think she’s in that phase where she’s starting to like you better, so I could use some alone time with our little bug” you tease as you squish your daughter’s cheeks. When Lando sees you cracking jokes it makes him feel a little more at ease - if you were so comfortable with this then why shouldn’t he be too? With one last hug and kiss, Lando finally walks out the door with a promise to facetime you once he gets to the airport. 

Piper starts crying the second she realizes that her dad is really gone, and honestly you shed a few tears too.

 “Don’t worry Pipes, we’re going to see daddy sooner than you think,” you whisper to your daughter as you try to soothe her. Little did Lando know that you had a bag packed in your bedroom for you and your daughter to surprise him at the paddock on race day.

—

The expectations were low for Lando in Bahrain, both from the media and from himself. He had been very upfront about having different priorities this summer than just racing, so he had been a write-off in so many people’s minds. That’s what made it even sweeter when Lando saw the checkered flag first in Bahrain, marking the very first time he had ever won at the circuit. It’s no secret that Lando had become more sensitive since he had become a dad, but when he says “This one is for my girls, I love you Y/N and Piper” over the radio, it brings tears to everyone’s eyes. 

Lando is already over the moon. He gives a big cheer to the roaring crowd before going to hug the rest of the team. It’s absolutely electric and it really seems like everyone, regardless of whether they are a McLaren fan or not, could appreciate how much this win meant to him. 

But the sweetest moment is when he spots you. You’re a little bit off to the side, a couple of security guards standing around you to make sure that nobody would try and trample over you and Piper. Little Piper is wearing a pair of noise canceling McLaren branded headphones on her ears as she hangs out happily in your arms. It’s like she spots her dad at the same time too, since she starts waving her arms in Lando’s direction. Lando immediately stops everything he’s doing to run over to you two. You have a knowing look in your eye, like you were just waiting for him to finally spot you both. 

“Oh my god, you’re here.”  Lando lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Having you both here makes him finally feel complete, like his heart was finally whole again. 

“There’s no way we were going to miss daddy’s first race of the season. Congratulations, babe” 

Lando has questions of course - how you managed to pull this off without him noticing, whether Piper gave you trouble on the plane, and so much more. For now, though, he just wants to spend time with you two. He almost forgets that he’s at the race entirely, let alone that he won it until a team member comes up behind him to ask him if he’s ready to do his interview 5 minutes from now. 

When Piper reaches over with her little grabby hands for Lando, you of course give into her whims as you pass her over to the sweaty driver. It also gives you a second to pull out your phone and capture the moment for yourself. Piper is playing with the visor on Lando’s helmet, learning a new form of peek a boo that you know that she’s going to want to keep playing when you get home. You’re the one who helps keep Lando on track, giving him one last kiss on his helmet before you tell him to head off towards the hoard of media personnel eagerly awaiting his appearance. When you go to take Piper back from him she refuses to budge, and with both Piper and Lando giving you their classic puppy dog eyes, you know you’re outnumbered. 

“Keep her safe, Lan, okay?” It’s a rhetorical question. You know that Lando wouldn’t let anything happen to her - but it’s still a big crowd, the biggest you’ve ever been since you gave birth, and it’s a little scary to not hold onto her here. 

You don’t think anyone has ever seen Will Buxton this happy as he pulls Lando aside for his post-race interview. 

“I have to say, congratulations on an absolutely brilliant drive from you today, Lando - and would you like to introduce the special guest you’ve brought with you?” Will asks with a grin. 

Lando can’t help the similar smile that is etched on his face as he looks at his little girl. “This is my daughter Piper, and she’s just the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I can’t share enough praise for my beautiful wife Y/N too - words can’t describe how much she means to me.I really wouldn’t be standing here in front of you today without her support.”  Lando looks back at you with a smile and kisses Piper on the cheek to end off his sentence, but Piper seems to be more interested in the texture of the mic than her dad at the moment. 

“What does it mean to you to have this be your first win as a father, Lando?” 

“Oh man, this little girl is everything to me - I just want to do my best on the track so that Piper can look back and always be proud to have me as her dad.” 

The moment is made extra sweet as Piper tosses and turns in Lando’s hold so that she can cling to him like a koala bear, pulling herself further into Lando’s chest. She is starting to like the microphone just as much as Lando, so she pulls her face right onto it before she says her very first word - “dada”.

At first Lando thinks he’s hallucinating - there’s so many people around and there’s so much noise that he can barely hear himself think. But then Piper says it again and he can’t help but start to cry.

“She -, she- called me dada, oh my god I can’t believe it,” Lando’s in pure disbelief as he stares in awe at his little girl and looks back at you watching in the crowd. For a minute he forgets that there’s a full corral of people watching him until he hears a collective “awww” from the crowd.  “Sorry it’s just -, wow, she’s never done that before.” he says sincerely as he wipes the tears from his cheeks.

It’s now Piper’s turn to cry as she gets overwhelmed with all the eyes that are staring at her, pushing the microphone away from her as she buries her head into Lando’s shoulder. She is just a little kid, after all. Lando wraps up the interview as fast as he can, apologizing as he whisks Piper away to try and lift her spirits. 

Luckily it’s time to head into the cooldown room, which proves to be the perfect place for Piper to calm down from her outburst. The antics continue there as Lando bounces Piper on her lap, pointing to the TV screen to show her all the highlights. 

“Look at daddy about to overtake uncle Charles! And there’s uncle Alex, and uncle George...” Lando continues to retell the story of the last two hours as the other two podium sitters, Max and Oscar, chime in intermittently. Sometimes Piper’s gaze falls to Lando’s new hat instead of the screen, but he’s happy to have her in the room with him to share this moment. 

You have to really bargain with Lando to get him to hand Piper back to you so he can head to the podium by himself - it’s only at the rational explanation of not wanting your baby covered in champagne that he finally gives in to reason. Piper loves seeing the celebrations on the podium, adding in some cheers of her own when she sees her dad jumping up and down with joy on the podium. The little girl is addicted to the shine of the Bahrain trophy in the sun and you and Lando both later joke that she likes the piece of metal better than the both of you combined. 

It’s no surprise that Piper falls asleep on the car ride home - you do the same next to her as the jet lag catches up to you both. Piper still keeps one hand firmly on the trophy, having barely let it out of her sight since Lando brought it to her. Lando can’t help but feel so lucky as he looks through the rearview mirror at the both of you. 

It never gets any easier - leaving. The next weekend Lando heads to the United States and Piper cries the whole day once she notices that he’s packing a suitcase. You’re honest with Lando when you tell him that you’ll see him once he gets back, there’s no way you and Piper would be able to handle all the time changes and long haul flights that would come with going to every race.

You still watch every race though, throwing sleep training to the wind as Piper often stays up at all odd hours to watch with you. There are so many moments where you wish that you could be there with Lando, especially with the season he’s having. As the journalists would say, Lando’s “dad powers” have brought him his best ever start to a Formula 1 season, as he has yet to finish outside the top 3 so far. 

“What do you think is going to happen when I don’t come home from a trip with one of those?” Lando jokes as he sees your daughter absolutely enamored with the newest addition to her trophy collection. It’s the Australian GP trophy, which proves to be the perfect vessel for Piper to put her cereal pieces into. The little girl has taken to yelling as her new favorite hobby, and she shows it off every time she squeals with joy when Lando walks through the door after a race.

“I don’t want to find out, so you’ll just have to keep getting podiums, Lan” you joke back as you lean your head onto his shoulder. 

----

author's note: oh man, this has been sitting in my drafts FOREVER as i tried to perfect it but i really wanted to share it with you all. Thanks for all the love - asks are open if you want to say hello or make a request! Until next time! - Em 🤍

[tritoch]

it took me until the pelupelu quests to really get what dawntrail is trying to go for with the moblins of earthenshire.

the first time through MSQ, the feat of pots stuff really didn't land for me. a lot of emphasis is placed on the relationship between the helphands and the potsworn in a way that ends up being pretty straightforwardly and kind of boringly about the importance of artisans, craftsmen, and other skilled laborers to civil society. after the collapse of the yok huy empire, earthenshire used to abduct potsworn under exploitative terms, gulool ja ja shows up and says "not only will hiring and caring for living workers keep people from wanting to kill you, it will also lead to the production of finer arts and crafts," the moblins agree, there is much rejoicing. in the present day, wuk lamat favors gulool ja ja's "let's all benefit from peaceful urbanization and governance" approach while bakool ja ja reverts to direct violence. it's not a bad bit of story, i guess, but it's also not much, and it's soon overshadowed by wuk lamat's abduction.

but the pelupelu society quests highlight it in a different light. it emphasizes not just the potsworn, but the fact that the moblins are facing the question of how to handle a bounty of natural resources.

the moblins of earthenshire were previously oppressed and exploited by the yok huy specifically for the natural riches of southern kozama'uka. what kinds of natural riches? well, gulool ja ja specifically calls out "the quality of the materials used" in earthenshire's goldwork, so we can guess probably gold.

another big answer is staring us right in the face, in the form of earthenshire's architecture: high-quality clay (and feldspar) for ceramics, and probably a characteristic glaze known to earthenshire's artisans. the blue-green color and "cracked" quality of the finish makes me think FFXIV's writers and designers had celadon in mind, even if the final hue is heavier on the blue and lighter on the green than the color celadon is usually associated with in english.

we are told some of earthenshire's traditional industries: underground mining, fishing, alluvial (stream-bed) mining. under the yok huy empire, moblin society was focused entirely on resource extraction. the tour guide says that without the yok huy, the moblins were bereft of both "providers and protectors," suggesting that under the yok huy the moblins were neither producing their own goods nor exercising many traditional powers of government. in many ways, they still don't!

what gulool ja ja proposed, and the moblins have enacted, is now almost an inversion of traditional metropolitan-hinterland relations. under the usual paradigm, the hinterland, resource-rich but unable to resist the interference of foreign powers, is exploited by the metropole, both in terms of its natural resources (which are extracted and shipped back to the metropole for use in the production of goods, as luxuries, etc.) and its people (who are oppressed and forced to labor in extractive industries for the benefit of the metropole). and of course as is usual in colonial relations you expect the metropole to impose itself culturally on the territories it controls. that kind of exploitative relationship between foreign powers and indigenous labor & resources is exactly what some people feared in the run-up to dawntrail (if you weren't paying attention at the time, some of the initial imagery out of shaaloani made some fans leery at the possibility that FFXIV was about to do an "old west" plotline about ceruleum extraction by eorzean powers in turali lands).

by contrast, the moblins of earthenshire control their own natural resources, and the relationship is that they take skilled labor from the metropole (tuliyollal), assimilate those artisans culturally and economically into their society, mediate their access to the natural bounty of kozama'uka, and sell their wares back to the metropole as products of earthenshire. it's all a bit hand-waved in the classic fashion of ffxiv (where are all the moblin miners?), but it's clear enough what's intended. even with the yok huy gone, the moblins have largely maintained their previous way of life, but in a way that centers and celebrates their culture and allows them both civic control and a sort of intellectual property control over the products that result ultimately from their extractive labor. it inverts the traditional "resource curse" narrative in which small, resource-rich countries are "naturally" inclined to be colonized and exploited.

it also pushes back a bit on ffxiv's usual paradigm around resource extraction and arts production. disciple of the hand quests, outside of their specific storylines, often broadly celebrate the ingenuity and labor of the individual artisan. disciple of the land quests, on the other hand, are often about the relationships between labor and the land (with an emphasis on natural stewardship and learning respectfully from local cultures about their local lands) or the importance of extractive labor to broader society.

on the subject of art, what earthenshire does is uniquely honor the role that extractive and reproductive labor play in the creative and artistic process. though the craftsmanship is certainly exceedingly fine, that's not what is truly unique about moblin society or earthenshire's wares. ffxiv is well aware that art cannot exist unless we compensate artists properly (and the existence of the cracked cistern works to complicate our picture of earthenshire along these lines). but what earthenshire truly celebrates is all the labor that goes into the creation of the art that often goes unremarked: the labor of the miner and the porter, of the cook and the launderer. that is the labor which makes each and every good made there not just a product of the individual artisan, but a product of earthenshire.

[pedge-page]

hi mamas, lately I've been feeling a bit self-conscious when I look at recent photos of myself, and I've been going to the gym lately (pero like I be counterbalancing that with eating whatever I want :/) and think I look good in the mirror but when I see vids/photos of myself I just don't feel good. Could u possibly write post-pregnancy!reader and Joel (after either Sarah or Ellie's pregnancy) and its been months but she just doesn't feel or like herself but Joel is determined to change that perspective around ASAP!

Hi my love! I'm sorry you're feeling down about yourself, I go through those moments so frequently. Feeling dismorphia when you think you look ok and then see yourself in a different light. It ruins your whole mood. Thank you for asking this! I hope it brings a little comfort.

- - - -

Joel spent a lot of time helping you get lotioned up when you were pregnant. Even now, with Sarah out of your body and you can finally reach your toes, he still finds joy in lathering you with deep rubs as he spreads the cream over your skin. Almost obsessively. No inch of skin was left untreated. He'd even stick his tongue out as he glided a heavy palm up from your belly to tits, then back down your sides and over your hips.

you thought you'd had enough man handling when he goes to squirt 5 more pumps in one palm.

You put the heel of your foot on his forehead, stopping him from coming any closer. "Too much! I feel like I'm sweating in a oily pit."

He plants a kiss to your sole before nudging your heel down onto his shoulder. "Gotta keep your skin nourished. And hydrated. I missed a spot," He rubs his hands together greedily.

"No you didn't! You got it already!" the two of you wrestle slightly, his body draping over yours but your feet keeping his stomach at bay.

"Stop squirmin' and give me your tits!"

"You just wanna grope them and have make naked all the time!"

"...ok and your point?"

You giggle. Finally letting your guard down, he grins as he smoothes over your skin with the cream, lathering it up in hands to keep it warm. He made sure to knead it in well enough. And your body DID need it. Drinking it in like a fish out of water.

You breathe deeply, staring at the ceiling as his pays especially attention to the skin under your breasts, your stretched stomach and girthy hips, down to your cellulite and wobbly skinned thighs that used to make boys turn...

"Um..." your voice sounded meek, almost exceptionally unlike you when you're with Joel. "You're not doing it...because you think it will help my body bounce back... are you?"

He furrows his brows, not sure what you're talking about. The concern and fear in your face makes him feel a pain in his chest that he immediately needs to help settle.

"Because um... its not--my body--it's not. Gonna look the same as before... after her. Um so. This might not, make it much better. Um. I'll be saggy and wrinkly, and not very sexy anymore so--I get it if that's what you're trying to do--"

he sees the shine in your eyes as you lose your words, too embarrassed to look at him.

"No. Nononono. Baby, that's not at all what I'm doing here and don't you dare start thinking I'm gonna love you any different just cuz your body changing from our baby." He lies next to you and pulls you close, his hands clutching your to his lips. "You're still just a beautiful as the day I met, just as hot the second I put that little baby in you, and you're just as gorgeous after. I've got no intuition to change what your beautiful body is doing--performing fucking miracles. I just want you to feel safe, happy, cared for." he plants a wet kiss against your palm. "Want ya to stop going to bed with dry hands and feet. Scratching me up all Night."

You laugh with him, blinking away the tear that had built up. "That was a test. You passed."

"Mmmhmmm. Always testing me."

He spends the rest of the evening peppering your entire body in kisses while massaging your stress away. when you were finally snoring, he turned out the tight, but stayed where he was, his elbow propping his head up taking you all in.

Joel sits and watches you more than he wants to admit because he's so goddamn in love with you. You're so uncharacteristically peaceful now. Cuddled against your pillow, deep breaths rhythmically settling you. Soft and gentle as a newborn calf. Completely unlike the sassy snarky woman yelling at him all day. Even when you were berating him for dumb shit because your hormones were through the roof, he still loved you. You're the firey spitball of energy and emotions on a roller coaster that keeps him on his toes, reminding him that you're so full of personality and neediness and bursting with energy and he's the only one equipped to get it for you--the only one you'd ever feel so comfortable to ask --and demand and yell and bitch--and all of it makes him laugh on the inside because It's just you. So you. All you.

And he's amazed. Amazed every day when he gazes upon his little Sarah. A whole human your body grew inside you from start to finish. Amazed every day when he sees you rocking her in your arms, feeding her with your breastmilk. Its like your body never stops giving and giving. Amazed every day that you can move and groove, sway your hips and do cartwheels in the grass like you're a kid again, eager to make your little babygirl laugh heartily.

He doesn't care that your boobs are saggier than before. Doesn't care about the extra poof on your belly that won't go away. doesn't care about the stripes around your thighs and hips that are here to stay. When he sees those things, he doesn't see imperfections or negative changes. He sees you. A girlfriend then. A mother now. His wife always. And that brings joy to his soul, knowing you're sticking with him through it all.

He's already thinking about his tired, wrinkly, speckled worn old man hands rubbing you to sleep with lotion when the two of you are 90, so he can keep lookin at you just like he is now. and always has.

Amazed to call you mine.