#'he rested his chin on dennis' shoulder'

[codenamejudas]

For size reference needs:

Judas - Jaden

Judas - Dennis

[firehousefreak911]

Are you sure?

The team was gathered at your house. Your husband, Eddie, standing behind you, arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your head. The two of you watch as Christopher, your step son, plays with Denny and Buck.

“Let’s have a baby” Eddie whispers, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You laugh a little and turn to face him. Arms draped over his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I’m serious, I’ve been thinking a lot about this“ Eddie said

This caught you off guard. You two had been married a little over a year, but together 5. You had never discussed kids. You always assumed he was content with just Christopher.

You just look at him, you don’t know what to say.

“Are you sure? I mean we never really talked about it before.” You finally say.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life” he says smiling, he leans in and kisses you.

[bibuckdiaz]

i wrote a little thing about eddie and hen and here it is. be warned, i am:

still on season six and only know about eddie’s current ~situation~ from twitter and tumblr

extremely unconcerned about canon compliance especially after tonight’s ep

a gay eddie truther

anyways. viola. eddie and hen get drunk and talk about the kim/marisol/buck situation.

***

Eddie already regrets going to Hen’s place.

On one hand, he knew she’d understand, at least to a degree. He didn’t know her when Eva was still around, but Buck had told him quietly one night when Eddie was lamenting how perfect her marriage seemed to be. It didn’t change how he saw her, and it honestly never really felt relevant, until now.

On the other hand, he knew she was going to slap sense into him when she found out what he did.

At least that part only took the first ten minutes, and then she got out a bottle of vodka and two glasses. The first shot burned, but it soothes some of the rattling, violent anxiety in his chest.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he says for the umpteenth time, at least most of the way to properly drunk at Hen’s kitchen table.

“Well, here,” Hen says and holds her hands out like she’s pitching an invention on Shark Tank. “Do you love them?”

Eddie leans forward until his forehead thunks into the wooden table. “I don’t know,” he whispers.

“You’ve been in love before,” Hen says, like it’s fact, but when Eddie doesn’t respond, she leans in to peer at his side profile. “Right?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats, not making eye contact. “Hen, I don’t know.”

Hen lets out a long breath and pours two more glasses— fuller than the rest have been, easily two shots worth. Eddie sits up and downs his in two swigs even though he knows he should probably cut himself off.

“Hen,” he says. His tongue feels slow and heavy in his mouth. “What does it feel like? Being in love?”

Hen is quiet for a long moment, blinking at the table. “Trust,” she says after a moment. “There’s nobody in the world I trust more than Karen.” The words hit Eddie’s ear with something like nostalgia. “I trust her with— With Denny.” She interrupts herself with a hiccup and a slurred giggle before twisting her face back into something resembling seriousness. “I trust her with my life. She makes me laugh, she makes me smile. She makes my insides feel… Like this.” She rests her hand on her stomach. “Bubbly.”

“Trust,” Eddie echoes, and thinks it over. Marisol, Kim— He doesn’t know if he trusts them, not with Chris. Not with the most perfect, important thing in his entire life. He probably doesn’t. He probably never will. “I…”

“Spit it out, Diaz.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he starts, and Hen waves him off, waiting expectantly. “There’s really only one person in the world that I trust like that. I don’t know… Is that love?”

Hen leans forward and rests her chin on her crossed arms. “You tell me,” she says and blinks lazily. “Tell me how it feels.”

Eddie thinks for a long moment. His mind conjures images— Chris, nestled into a nook in the roof of a ladder truck, waves rushing around him; Chris, eating home cooked breakfast every single morning while Eddie was in the hospital after the shooting; Chris, staring down at a hospital bed, crying like he hasn’t since Shannon.

“Like home,” he says finally. “Like they fill a hole I didn’t know I had.”

Hen snorts and Eddie reaches over and shoves her.

“What does that mean?” Eddie asks a moment later. His head is swimming from the vodka, but his heart keeps beating the same rhythm, over, and over, and over. He thinks maybe it has been for the past five years.

“Only you can figure that out, Eddie,” Hen says softly and reaches out to grab his shoulder. “But if it helps, I think he loves you too.”

Eddie whips his head up, startled, but Hen has nothing but drunken compassion on her face.

“Tell me if I’m overstepping, but the things you’ve said about dating? How it feels like a performance, how you don’t mind being alone— The jumping around, the lack of commitment. It’s all the same stuff I thought was normal when I was still dating men,” Hen says.

Eddie’s head spins. “But I’m not— You didn’t like men. I’m not— Like you,” he says. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth.

Hen rubs her cheeks with her palms and then lets out a long breath. “Karen’s gonna be so mad at me,” she mutters, and then meets Eddie’s eyes, determination in her gaze. “Have you ever actually sat down and thought about being attracted to men? Have you tested it, experimented at all? What makes you so sure?”

Eddie feels his face go red almost immediately, and he knows Hen notices because she leans in and pokes him square in the cheek.

“In the army,” Eddie relents and looks away, staring out the window at the blustery trees outside so he doesn’t have to look at Hen. “It was easy. He was there, I was there, it was just— Just letting off steam.”

“But?”

“But,” Eddie echoes and glances back at Hen. It’s clear in her expression— honest from the vodka— that she just wants to listen, and to help. She doesn’t hold pity, she doesn’t see him as a clueless child. She knows how difficult this is. “He was hot, and kind. He made me laugh. I… I never considered it cheating, because it— It was normal, I thought.”

“So men don’t count, and neither do clones of your ex-wife?” Hen asks gently. “Where’s the line, Eddie?”

It feels like an accusation, even though he’s the one who drove here and bore his heart to Hen, every part of the last miserable few months pouring out of his mouth and onto her living room floor.

Her face softens. “Listen,” she says and reaches over, taking his hand in hers. “You don’t love them, and you do love someone else. Doesn’t that make it simple?”

Eddie fucking wishes it could be that easy.

“I can’t,” he whispers. “Chris deserves a family, a mother. I can’t— I can’t be selfish, not with this.”

Hen’s expression darkens. “Does Denny need a father?”

“What—“

“Was I selfish in choosing Karen, choosing my career, choosing to take in Denny, rather than live a traditional, white picket fence life?”

“Hen, no—“

“Are my wife and I not enough of a family for him?”

“Stop, stop,” Eddie says and clutches at her forearm so tight he sees her dark skin paling under his grip. “Stop. I get it.” He looks out the window again. A bird lands on the fence.

“Christopher already loves Buck.”

Eddie flinches when she says his name. It was this unspoken, nebulous thing hanging in the room between them up until now, but Hen saying his name makes it feel real. Panic starts to make a home in his chest.

“I need to go,” he says and tries to pull away, but Hen grabs him and gives him a stern look.

“You’re not driving anywhere, not for at least the next eight hours. I hope you thought this through and got someone to watch Christopher, because calling your abuela drunk might be a little humiliating.”

“He’s with Pepa,” Eddie whispers.

“Good. You’re staying here, and we’re talking this out. Don’t run, Eddie. Answer me. What do you want? No second thoughts, no overthinking, no holdbacks. First instinct. What do you want?” Hen asks.

“Buck,” Eddie breathes.

Hen stands, walks around the table, and pulls Eddie into a hard, warm hug. “I know, baby.”

[gotham-ruaidh]

now i lay me down to sleep - a 7x05 and 7x06 story

I had thought it would be easy to sleep in the tent that night – after a few uncomfortable days on the road, preceded by my brief yet searing stint back at Ticonderoga worrying for my patients and for Jamie, not to mention the stress we’d both felt before the fort was abandoned as our well-reasoned advice fell on deaf ears.

I’d mastered the art of sleeping in a tent, with the low noises of men camped all around me, during the war. My war, to be precise – on the blood-soaked fields of France. Too quickly I’d had to put that habit to use in the months we’d spent camping with Charles Stuart, and then again not too long ago, in those terrible days of the fruitless skirmishes with the Regulators.

So I’d thought that the murmured campfire conversations, and occasional snorting of horses, and all other manner of noises would lull me to sleep this night.

Yet I lay awake. Too tired to sleep.

Mind racing.

Walter’s last breath.

Ian looking at Rachel, as she helped Denny and I bandage a man who had discharged his musket into his foot.

The shape of William’s nose and chin.

Brianna smiling.

I sat up in the bedroll, and swung out my legs from under the blankets.

Jamie’s hand found the small of my back.

Peace.

“When Bree was small and she couldn’t sleep, sometimes she’d get frustrated. So I told her to rest her eyes instead.”

“Hmm. Did that work?”

“Well, it soothed her. I convinced her that laying still with her eyes closed was more restful than not doing so.”

I heard him sit up behind me. Felt his arms wrap around my middle, and his head settle into the curve of my shoulder.

“And if she didnae like what she saw when she closed her eyes?”

I found his hands and squeezed. “I would ask her to think about something she did like.”

He smiled into my neck. “Well then. I just need to keep looking at you, Sassenach. Cannae think of a better way to fall asleep.”

I flushed with pleasure, and turned to kiss him. It was hard to see in the dark, and we fumbled a bit, laughing, and he tasted of happiness.

We broke apart at a whoop from somewhere not too far from the tent.

“Christ,” Jamie whispered. “I’ll need to have a word wi’ Morgan in the morning. Cannae have the men making such a stramash. It will just cause confusion that the Mohawk or others are attacking, and we dinna need that just now.”

“I’m sure he’ll enjoy talking to you about it.”

He didn’t say anything, and let the moment stretch. Still we held each other’s hands, not fully awake, not willing yet to sleep.

“Do you see something you don’t like, when you close your eyes?”

It was always easy to talk in the dark – even with Jamie, who knew me better than anyone had or would.

“Ye ken weel about my nightmares. But before you ask more about it – no, they’re no’ back, or at least any more than they have always come and go.” His thumb traced my silver wedding ring. “I – only – hmm. I need to ask ye something, and as I turn it over in my mind it feels verra foolish to even say out loud.”

I smiled. “Surely you don’t think I’d laugh?”

“Ye have laughed, and ye will keep laughing at me, since the first day we wed, Sassenach. That’s no’ what I keep seeing.” He paused, and I knew there would be lines forming in his brow as he thought what to say.

I gave him as long as he needed.

“Do you think any less of me, Claire, that I couldnae save you myself?”

“What on earth?” My hand found his shoulder. “What’s this?”

I felt his eyes on me. “I came for you at Fort William wi’ nothing but an empty pistol. I found you after that time wi’ the crazy priest who married Fergus and Marsali. I found you in the forest after the Browns had taken you.”

“Yes,” I said patiently. “I remember.”

“So – at Ticonderoga I relied on Ian to find you. And when you were held prisoner by the governor, on that ship in Wilmington harbor – I relied on Tom Christie.”

“Yes.”

His words came all in a rush. “I couldnae save you those times, Claire. I had to ask other men to do it for me.”

My hand shifted to cup his cheek. “Because you were being pragmatic. You’re older than you were at Fort William. You have a lot more to lose.”

“If I lose you, Claire, I lose everything. Do you no’ ken that?”

“And if in so doing you lose yourself – where does that leave me? I’d rather have a dozen men help me get back to you, than you risking yourself to do it.”

He sighed. “I felt I betrayed my vow to you.”

“Nonsense. You kept it, by enlisting others to help me. Were they not happy to do it?”

“They were.”

“Then don’t tell me that’s beside the point. I’m here, with you, because you asked for help. That’s no small thing.”

A beat.

“And don’t you go doubting yourself. Not now. You need to have a steady mind. To shoot your rifle straight.”

He turned his head, and kissed my palm. “I’m daft.”

“You are. But you knew that already, and I knew that already.”

“And yet somehow, you still love me for it.”

“Despite it.”

I leaned in for a kiss. He drew us back down into the bedroll.

“Rest wi’ me, then, until the dawn. Maybe I’ll dream of the lass and her bairns.”

I settled closer against him. “I’ll dream of you and me, back on the Ridge, in a fine new house.”

He kissed my forehead.

[chaitantei-ao3]

"johnny"

so dennis takes the frank v russia thing ten steps further and puts his picture in "johnny's" dating profile as he starts chatting with mac again, dennis then mysteriously "disappears" and instead mac finds "johnny" in the apartment, they continue dating and initially mac is a bit awestruck but he is more than ready to buy the fact that "johnny" is a doppelgänger since it's apparently a real thing (god works in amazingly mysterious ways), over the months "johnny" starts getting more comfortable in their relationship, dennis feels good about shedding his outer skin and feeling like two people at once… wearing the mask of another, one who is dating mac... the only irritation is that mac, emboldened in dennis's "absence" has now completely started rewriting their past memories by making up fake memories about his best friend to "johnny" (i miss beating him in the push ups contest every time, johnny... did i tell you about the time; dennis gritting his teeth, yeah uh huh), this is the closest dennis comes to revealing himself (the assault on his perfection by mac'a goddamn misrepresentation, goddamn you mac, i was a- dennis was… is a god)

but the handful of times dennis comes close to it... to revealing himself, he is struck by a heaviness and a dizziness, a ridiculous sense of physical discomfort, like his skin is peeling off of him as he looks into mac's eyes, his chest sweaty and his eyes blown out as he rolls to his side and smiles, so now he… hides, he isn't dennis in johnny's skin, he is johnny in dennis's skin and johnny is the best boyfriend or so mac says and johnny is perfect and when den-johnny looks in the mirror, he feels loved and dennis is dead, gone… and mac is talking about dennis again, why would he keep talking about his stupid old roommate when "he" is here, when johnny is here and… mac is talking, you know johnny, i really miss him… he won't answer my calls and- i don't know, i worry cause we were best friends and i really, really miss him and i feel like- no i need to find him and now johnny feels like a stone is lodged in his throat and he yeah- wouldn't mac just want to be with this 'best friend' dennis and is he more important to him than johnny to which mac says nothing and johnny feels itchy and he scratches his chin, one finger dragging down his neck from his chin and now his chest is a hive's nest and he peels his shirt off and he digs his fingers below his arm pits and mac is staring at him, staring at the thin trail of red on his cheek that dennis sees drop on his knee and everything is black till he wakes up and sees mac's face like its been pulled through the shredder and him looking at johnndennisjohnnydennisdennis and mac says he won't go and he clutches his hand and says that you are so, so much more important and he presses his thumb to mac's bottom lip and feels like a third thing, not dennis, not johnny but someone who could be lo- who is loved but to mac he is still... someone else

and so dennis tells him the truth, the real truth that he is dennis, has always been dennis and somehow the zeroing in of his gaze and the parting of mac's lips this time isn't too much, it is comfortable, it is warm, it is good… it feels so good, of course… mac doesn't buy it and if this is a joke- no, great we're all laughing… i need johnny back, i- dennis? what is even going on and so dennis tips his head and shrugs his shoulders and tells him the 'real' truth that he got rid of "johnny" the minute "johnny" stepped into their apartment and they went on a date and mac swallows and dennis knows that he's thinking about that night and the day after and what "johnny" said and that mac would probably think that it was all a pretense and there is a helplessness in it that he... feels and no… if mac wanted johnny, he could be johnny for him for the rest of his life and mac closes his eyes hearing his words that dennis has said out loud, he touches his bleeding cheek then opens his eyes and walks towards dennis and he tells him he's loved him as a best friend… and then more… that dennis to him has always been a giant confusing ball of feelings and all he's ever wanted was more, more, more in whatever way possible and that even though he loved johnny, he knew something was missing and that he never stopped thinking of dennis and that if he was allowed to have him, the sum and the parts, who he is and whoever he would become that mac promises him that... he too... would try to become someone worthy of that and dennis chokes a little and nods and he tips mac's chin softly like johnny would, brushing his hands on his cheeks like dennis would, subtly trying to read his expression and drags mac closer and rests his forehead on shoulder, breathing in his presence like he never thought "he" ever would do with anyone, but as someone who "he" could become he wants to and so he does.

[myfandomprompts]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎

Summary: It all goes fast after the negotiations with your father. You must return to King's Landing while the war is making things difficult for Aemond to stay close to you.

Warning: Angst, smut, explicit, fluff Masterlist (Part 19 - Part 21)

You had watched the two men from afar, anxiously biting your nails until you saw them shake hands, lifting your worry. Your father turned around and disappeared behind the heavy gates as Aemond walked into the opposite direction.

Once levelled with you, he commanded for the siege to be lifted at once and to break camp, followed by instructions. “It is time you put your relatives back into place,” he had said, referring to the Vance of Wayfarer’s Rest’s allegiance to the Blacks. Both the Vances nodded and began preparations as you followed Aemond inside the main tent, taking shelter from the cold.

“Is it settled then?” you asked him as he was taking the opportunity of Dennys’ absence to rummage through the many parchments laid onto the table.

“Quite. I will gain the few men your father possesses and leave him be, as well as I agreed to keep my promises,” he said, narrowing his eye at a very old looking scroll.

“Promises?” you asked confused. “Did my father asked something more of you?”

Aemond turned around to face you, his as confused. “You do not know?”

“Know of what; Aemond?” you asked again, unsure of where the conversation would lead.

Aemond did not expect you to ignore the fact that your father had given him your hand. You would not like that, but whatever Lord Donnel’s reasons were for not telling you, he found it better to wait before informing you. It would give him time as he was more anxious about it that he cared to admit.

He simply hummed, not giving you any answer before stepping toward you and taking you in his arms, pressing his chin against your temple, taking in the smell of your hair. You did not understand but you welcomed the touch.

“He only wishes you to be safe,” he lied. A small lie. “I promised him as such.”

You were suspicious but chose to believe him nonetheless, your face resting against his chest.

“Would you care to tell me why your father seems to be under the impression that you would lead his men into battle?” he inquired, breaking the embrace to look at you.

“You said it yourself,” you replied, shrugging. “The Lydden men will not follow you, they are too loyal. So I will, but only along the way to King’s Landing, I would not truly command them, of course.”

“This is ridiculous. I do not have the time to see them through to King’s Landing.”

“Maybe you don’t have the time, but I do,” you tried to explain, telling him that you knew that the Golden Road should be avoided, too dangerous to be walked upon without dreading a Black ambush, or a Green’s for that matter. And even if Aemond wanted your father’s men posted at Tumbleton to aid Ser Criston to defend the town, you assured him that you would find a safe way back to King’s Landing.

“Besides, I have two hundred men to protect me,” you concluded.

“This is exactly what I am worried about.” Aemond said bitterly as he briefly brushed your shoulder with his hands.

Aemond did not like the idea of you among soldiers. Yes, they would be devoted to you, but they were still men, and not famous for their skills. And their numbers were outnumbered by any other army he already possessed, without mentioning the numbers of the Blacks’ men-at-arms. Moreover, he feared that these very men would make you go back to Deep Den as soon as he departed and keep you there.

You had no time to ask what it meant as lieutenants and other officers barged into the tent to pack its belongings, slightly hesitating when they met with Aemond’s deathly glare. But when they entered, you had taken a step back from Aemond without realising it. He had noticed it, however, hating your reaction as he seized your waist in response and dragged you outside, keeping you shamelessly close.

It took several hours for House Vance to mount their horses and be on their way back home. Aemond was giving his last instructions to Lord Dennys Vance while Addam had come to you as you were finally alone, congratulating you on your fine diplomatic skills and wishing you safe travels.

“I thank you, my Lord. I regret that both our families had been enemies, even temporarily,” you smiled.

“My Lady knows that we only followed orders, I had no wish to harm anyone as I have grown to know them as I did you during my short stay in the Red Keep,” he smiled in return. Some feet away from you, Aemond was struggling to keep his eye on Lord Dennys as he conversed with him, burning holes at the back of Addam’s neck.

“I am glad no one was harmed as well,” you agreed. “And I do hope and pray that no harm will come to you during your future battles.”

He thanked you. It was odd, meeting him again in such an unexpected place after everything that happened. You truly meant what you said.

He was about to reply but Aemond materialised at your side, hands behind his back, so close to you that his elbows dipped into your ribs. He watched Addam solemnly in silence before the latter inclined his head in haste and departed, barely daring to glance at Aemond.

“My Lady,” he had said before turning away.

You knew Aemond to inspire fear, but you found it foul to display this toward allies.

Later during the day, when the Vances had vacated the place, you could finally depart with your father’s men. You were introduced to the Commander, a gruff old man named Sterron, whom you knew could be deadly with a mace, and you were given a horse to travel with. You said nothing as you saw Aemond mount a beautiful black mare as well, knowing that if he had decided to come along, nothing you would say would make him change his mind.

You were able to hug your father one last time as well as your brother and your mother who you have been reunited with briefly during the morning negotiations, too vulnerable to come to say her goodbyes.

You got to know Ser Sterron better during your ride, learning that he had memories of you before your departure to King’s Landing and that he daily witnessed how your mother missed you. You felt sad as you kept on discussing your home and the recent events, Aemond riding at your side, listening silently.

Regularly along the way you could hear the flap of wings of Vhagar who caught up with the regiment from time to time, staying low as you slowly started to leave the hill area, travelling deeper into the east. She was too fast and far too big to follow you properly, so Aemond had her stay close, but hours could go by without sighting her.

You knew Aemond was greatly annoyed, if not incredibly worried about the progress that the war could take during his absence. You could often see him clench his jaw, his habit, as he looked ahead on the road, where his family was. You had tried to reason with him one time but to no avail. Aemond was more worried that you would be captured, or worse. He would not leave you, not yet, even if he had started to slowly trust Ser Sterron, who he found composed and skilled enough for a Commander of barely two hundred of men. When you rested you sometimes saw them talk by the fire, discussing defensive positions and the men’s abilities in combat, and you thought to yourself that maybe the forces of House Lydden would have followed the Prince after all, without you being involved.

It was on the second day that Aemond’s determination was put to the test. A lonely rider had found your company, a Vance messenger that carried a missive from the capital, addressed to Aemond, as the raven had found the Vances’ forces first.

In the letter, the Queen Dowager was informing her son that Daeron had flown into the aid of the Brackens, leaving the city while the northern armies had been sighted to descend further into the Neck, planning to gather at Harrenhal where Prince Daemon was based.

You watched as Aemond’s eye widened in slight panic before sending the messenger away. You felt his struggle and concern as you too feared for Daeron, and you knew you had to make Aemond leave.

As you brought your horse closer to him to try to talk to him, he finally looked up at you, his face was drained of all colours and his eye bore into you as if afraid that you would disappear on the spot. But after a while his menacing demeanour came back and he looked up at the sky, determined.

He dismounted, giving the reins to Sterron and ordering him to travel fast and to keep you far away from any combat that might occur. Then he rounded your horse to come at its flank, telling you to stay close to Ser Sterron and that he will come back.

Still a bit taken aback by how fast things were unfolding, you reached for his hand resting on your leg and squeezed it, making sure to make him understand that you would be alright, as he looked at you longingly. Then his gaze became too much to bear and you lowered yourself to kiss him, his height making it easier for you to lean in. He kissed you back endearingly, reaching to cup your face in his hands, feeling that it would never be enough. The men around you shifted uncomfortably as they witnessed this display of affection and you broke the kiss, Aemond briefly caressing your cheek with his thumb before turning away.

As dark fell over the lands you watched Aemond reach for the hills where he sensed Vhagar to be resting, and he disappeared from view.

The days had been relatively uneventful since Aemond’s departure as you rode across the land, only stopping to sleep or eat. The detour you had to take to avoid being spotted had extended your journey considerably, and you looked forward to arrive at destination.

The men were gentle and respectful towards you, even though you spent most of your time with Sterron, who was taking your well-being very seriously. There was one time when you believed that he would make his army turn around and take you home against your will now that Aemond had left, surely on the orders of your father. But nothing of the sort occurred and you cursed yourself for feeling so paranoid. Maybe Aemond was starting to rub off on you.

Beyond this, you had concluded that the trip was taking a toll on you, stressing you more than you had expected. You felt weary fast, exhausted even. You barely had appetite, food making you nauseous at times even though you knew you needed to eat. So you settled to not starve to death and eat a minimum as you tried to not think about Aemond and the fact that he could be injured, or worse, making you glum. Lately, your attempts at controlling your emotions failed miserably and you felt overwhelmed by them. What was happening to you? Ser Sterron pretended not to notice as you tried to get some sleep, glad for his presence nonetheless.

But then it hit you. The faint memories of your childhood coming back to you as you remembered your mother experiencing that kind of behaviour when you were only little, when she was expecting your brother.

The realisation made you dizzy as you sat up in order to gather your thoughts and remember the last time you had bled. It was over three moons ago, when you were going to Sandstone. A month later, you were reunited with Aemond.

You felt your heart increase in pace as you realised that you might be expecting Aemond Targaryen’s child.

Aemond had seen the damages the Riverlords had made as he flew over the Riverlands. He had gone straight to Stone Hedge, the seat of House Bracken where he thought his brother would be. However as he passed beyond Riverrun, attempting to not be spotted, Aemond saw the ravages the Blacks had created on the Brackens’ land. Villages had been sacked and the crops burned, and he feared that Lord Bracken had already lost.

Taking care in avoiding the area of Harrenhal as much as possible, knowing his uncle to have made the stronghold his base of operations, Aemond chose to turn back in search of his brother and was relieved to see Tessarion perched on High Heart hill.

Daeron informed him of his attempt to give support to House Bracken while they marched against their old enemies, House Blackwood, only for Lord Amos Bracken to have been slayed during the battle afterwards. Daeron had provided cover while the Bracken retreated to Stone Hedge but when Daeron finally joined them it was only to discover that Daemon’s forces had taken the castle during their absence. Daeron had then been forced away, Tessarion being much smaller than Caraxes and the latter far more dangerous in the hypothesis of a battle. Aemond was glad of his brother’s good sense and action, but King’s Landing was still defenceless. They would have to make a plan to stop the Blacks from conveying at Harrenhal with the power of the Greens.

When Tessarion and Vhagar landed in the Dragonpit, Aemond did not waste a minute to gather a war council and assert the damages. The Baratheon were admirably holding back the Blacks in the Midlands, but news of the Velaryon’s fleet was not pleasant. As much as it seemed, the Blacks would wait for Stark and his bannermen to arrive before their final strike, Aemond knew that he had to make great efforts to hold the Greens positions before then.

When he dismissed the council, he went straight to his mother, and shared with her his plan to marry you as soon as he retrieved you. Alicent looked at him bewildered, but as much as she hated to admit it, she was not surprised in the slightest. She knew her son, and she had always known how important you were for him, even if she had not expected her son to take care of such things considering the current circumstances. While he assured her that he will marry you, one way or another, Alicent had taken his hand and promised him her blessing. She also understood that what Aemond feared the most was that war would take you away from him, or him from you, and that he wished he had done it sooner. Aemond had one last demand: to marry you in the utmost secrecy. He did not wish for the realm to see his weakness. Because you were his greatest.

Ser Sterron had informed you that you were still miles away from Tumbleton, and that you were not closer from reaching the Mander river yet. You felt like you had been travelling for a week when it was only four days, but truthfully you blamed your exhaustion on the fact that you were in the complete dark regarding Aemond’s whereabouts, and you hated it. Not knowing if he was well.

So you could not hide your relief when you saw Vhagar land before you one afternoon, her huge size casting shadow over the men. Aemond came straight at you, barely acknowledging Ser Sterron as he commanded you to leave with him at once.

You felt uneasy about the idea of abandoning your father’s troops to their fate, but Aemond’s gaze left no room for choice. It was the first time you saw him since you had realised that you might be with child, and your anxiousness only heightened.

Aemond helped you down your horse before surprisingly apologising for your departure to Ser Sterron who only nodded in understanding, certainly not wishing to see you go to Tumblestone either.

You tried to obtain information from Aemond on Daeron’s situation but he quickly dismissed your questions as he led you to Vhagar.

“Aemond talk to me,” you implored as he grabbed the ropes of the dragon’s saddle. He sighed, looking as tense as he turned to face you.

“Daeron is at King’s Landing. We lost the Riverlands.”

Your jaw dropped slightly in shock, taking in the news.

“What about House Vance of Atranta?” you inquired in a quiet voice.

“I doubt that they will make it home.” Aemond deadpanned, and you swore that you could hear regret in his voice.

You took a moment to think as the Lydden soldiers rounded Vhagar to continue their march, the sounds of hooves the only thing you could hear as you felt Aemond’s gaze on you.

“It does not matter now.” Aemond said as he lifted you to help you up the ropes. “The Blacks will wait for the Wolf’s army before striking West, and we must focus on the Bay.”

You climbed up, sitting before Aemond joined you, taking his place right behind you.

“I am scared Aemond.”

As you said that, you unconsciously put your hand over your belly. Aemond looked at you with sadness as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Everything will be alright,” he told you as he swept your hair over your shoulder. “I will never let my family come to harm.”

As Vhagar took off, you chose to believe him. To trust him. He was Aemond Targaryen after all.

It was the fastest dragon flight you have ever experienced as you sighed the red city in the following hours, the stars appearing over the bay as the sun dropped lower, but Aemond did not go to the Dragonpit as you expected him to do. Rather he headed towards the Kingwoods, landing Vhagar over a high point that allowed a wide view of the city from afar, over the trees and the Nera altogether.

You repressed your need to ask Aemond why he was delaying your arrival, and enjoyed the silence while you admired the city, its red roofs, its gates, the tall structure of the Dragonpit and finally the towers of the Red Keep. However Aemond did not care for the view, as he only looked at you.

“Marry me.”

You froze as you heard his words uttered near your ear, like a prayer. You were suddenly aware of his body pressed against yours, his hand gently wrapped around your waist, and your heart beating faster than before. You slightly turned your head to him, stunned.

“Marry me,” he repeated. “I want you to be my wife. I have always desired it., his voice was strained but decisive, as he buried his nose on the side of your neck in desperation. “Gods Y/N I want you, all of you. I want you to be mine.”

He wanted to tell you how foolish he had been for not acting on it sooner, how he had suffered while he refused to even consider it all of these years while keeping you close. He regretted the time you had lost.

Your ability to speak was eluding you as you felt your heart fill with what you thought was fire.

“I want you to be the mother of my children. I want you. I always wanted you Y/N.”

It felt like a dream. A dream you had long ago. Here, towering over the city, in the arms of the man you loved, riding the largest dragon in the world.

“Yes," you managed to say with a quivering voice. “Yes, of course, Aemond I will.”

You could not help but laugh weakly, looking over his face as he took in your answer.

He did not smile, something akin to disbelief displayed on his features, but his eye softened instantly as he lowered it onto your lips, lingering there before pulling you into a kiss. He deepened it, and you could feel his happiness flow through it as he was making you see stars, his mouth so soft against yours.

Underneath you, Vhagar squealed into the twilight.

You had not expected to become a married woman so soon, learning that Aemond had made arrangements to marry you on the morrow, with only a handful of guests and a dinner. You did not know how you felt about that, but throughout the next day, Alicent did a great job at reassuring you. You thought about your father and what he would say, regretting his absence, but Aemond had admitted to you that he had given him his blessing while you were at Deep Den before he left you in the care of his mother for the day. It gave you an odd feeling, to be put into the dark like this, not liking it, but you were happy nonetheless.

However you felt great sadness when you saw Helaena again, visibly strained and barely looking at you when you talked to her about your adventures. Alicent had told you that her dreams had worsened and that it had taken a toll on her, but that she believed it temporary. You wondered how much of the war your sweet friend had nightmares about, how much it scared her.But you felt hope when, as you put on your wedding dress, you saw her smile and you were able to have a full conversation with her.

Your dress, despite having been chosen rather quickly, was more beautiful than you would have fathomed and you felt it too much for such a small ceremony. White with golden threads, the gown fell down your sides gracefully, leaving your shoulders bare while your hair was braided with pearls and your neck ornated by a sapphire necklace.

You did understand why the marriage had been planned in a small gathering, in secrecy, and you even found it to be suitable for you as you always had loathed the attention you attracted unwillingly on yourself. However you were still uncertain as to why Aemond had rushed it, thinking that matters of the heart would come second after matters of the war. But as soon as you thought this, you thought of the possibility of a child, the one growing in your womb and found it for the best.

The ceremony with the Septon was short, removing the brown and green cloak from your shoulders solemnly before letting Aemond replace it with a black and red one, asserting his protection over you with a fire in his gaze that made you shiver. He had chosen a blue shaded silken doublet for the occasion, matching your necklace and the stone that he hid under his leather eye-patch beautifully, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself. He was stunning with his high collar and straight hair, and his single purple eye didn't even seem to leave you for an instant as vows were exchanged and prayers were sung.

Aegon did not attend, but you saw Alicent and Helaena smile in fondness as Aemond gave you a light kiss on the lips when the septon wrapped both your hands in linen, bounding you before the Seven. Even Otto had smiled, if only briefly. But it was nothing compared to the blissfulness you could see on Aemond’s face and surely, on yours.

During dinner, Aemond was incredibly composed considering the festivities. However you could see his contentment from time to time when his eye landed on you, admiring you, but he seems to not be able to look at you for too long, as if it would burn his eye.

It was odd, to finally openly show displays of affection, as he did not hesitate to take your hand in his, his thumb grazing the back of it. Near the end, he had his hand over your thigh, stroking back and forth in an absent way. You did not mind, welcoming the warm feeling it gave you. But compared to the last dinner, his hand stayed on your thigh, not diving lower, you remarked.

When the festivities neared its end, Aemond could barely wait to be alone with you, the fact that you were now his wife had given his desires a whole new dimension. He dismissed any attempts at the guests to go through the bedding ceremony, a custom you found utterly humiliating, and an event that could only delay the moment when he could finally be with you.

He did not wait for the guests to put an end to the celebrations as he extended his hand for you to stand up and left the hall without a glance back, heading to your chambers. You felt nervous as well, but as you entered a secluded area of the castle, you felt Aemond grab you and push you against a wall, his lips on yours in an instant.

“Aemond, what are you doing-” you managed to say through wet kisses.

“You look beautiful,” he only said as he lowered his mouth next to where your necklace laid, licking your skin around the sapphire stone. “Shit, being my wife, mine suits you so well.” He breathed against you as you could only moan in delight, clutching at his shoulder for support.

You blushed a little as you considered the place to be quite revealing if someone was to stumble upon you two, but Aemond’s warmth and passion made you forget all about your worries.

His hands spent a torturing amount of time on your breasts, the fabric of your gown a mere obstacle for him as he kissed his way up to your throat and to your lips again, while you took upon yourself to get rid of the eyepatch to be granted better access to his silky hair.

His hands were lifting up your gown now, and you could feel how eager he was to take you as he aligned himself to your entrance, lowering his breeches as he took hold of your hips.

You wailed as he buried himself inside of you without warning, your heat already spreading all around him as he moved inside you, your name on his lips.

He sucked hard on the spot below your ear, his hand around your throat squeezing lightly as he thrust into you, panting. It was too much and as he kept up his pace, you were both surprised when you hit sweet release in muffled moans, ashamed that you did not last long.

Aemond immediately withdrew himself when he sensed you clench around him, groaning in frustration, still hard. He took a moment to watch you come undone, enjoying the sight as he tried to steady himself.

“That good, hm?” he said, his thumb on your lips. “You really needed it, didn’t you? Me inside of you," his tone was making your flesh ache in expectations as you slowly came down from your ecstasy, his gaze like fire on your face. “I cannot wait to give you more. Seven hells, it’s driving me mad. Come on.” He said as he took your hand to drag you to your chambers.

“Aemond wait I-.” can’t walk just yet, you tried to say, your legs still shaky from the previous sensations. He only looked at you with a quirked brow before realising what you meant and lifted you up, carrying you by putting your legs and body in his arms, your own around his shoulders as you yelped in surprise when your feet left the floor.

He carried you all the way to his chambers, barging in and putting you down in order to bar the door. Then he was on you again, taking hold of you in the middle of the room as he cupped your face in his hand and kissed you deeply, his tongue claiming your mouth. Then he turned you around abruptly and proceeded in unlacing the back of your dress with haste, soon letting it fall at your feet.

“Lay down for me,” he commanded, now taking care of unfastening his own clothes.

You slowly backed off to the bed, not letting his gaze go as he watched you with pure lust in his eye. You sat on the bed at the same moment his last layers came off, and you wetted your lips at the sight of his growth as he closed on you.

“I said lay down,” he repeated, and you obeyed, sinking into the mattress as he briefly roamed his hands over your breast and down to your stomach, before flattening his tongue over your heat, lapping broadly as if it was all that mattered to him.

You hissed his name loudly, trying your best not to move too much as you felt your blood rush once again, his hungry pace making your head spin. It was deliciously unbearable, the way he sucked your folds, and you felt ready to burst once again. You moaned his name several times, eliciting carnal groans from him as you trembled under him. You made no attempts to muffle your cries as your second release overcame you.

He did not let go as he licked your overstimulation, only leaving it cold to softly kiss your inner thigh as he waited for you to breathe properly again, his eye ever watchful of how your skin glowed under his touch.

“You taste even better, I don’t know how that is possible but you are just-” he breathed against the inside of your legs in desperation. You wanted to do the same to him. You wanted it dearly.

“Aemond., You said raising yourself up on your elbows as you eyed his length. You had never seen it so… demanding, so eager. “Let me help you. Let me take care of you as well.”

He widely grinned, raising himself to your level as he trailed his mouth over your chest and finally found your mouth again.

“Do not tempt me, my Lady,” he replied as he captured the back of your neck. “I did not get this far only to let it go to waste.”

You looked at him with confusion, panting heavily against his lips as he grabbed your hips once again, wondering why he would refuse you. But his hardness collided against your sweet spot, and you winced as he himself let out a deep groan, biting the inside of his cheeks.

“Because all I want to do right now-” he said as he entered you, making you moan loudly. “Fuck - ” he said in a shaky voice, stopping both his sentence and thrust. You felt your whole body shake as his thickness was tearing you apart. He took a moment to settle himself and breathe.

“Because the only thing I can think of right now is to bless you with my child,” he managed to say through heavy panting, rocking his hips against you again at an unrelenting pace. “Fuck you senseless, fill you up. Mine. ”

You didn’t believe that you have ever felt him this hard because it sent you over the edge fast and for the third time this night. You were not sure Aemond could have lasted much longer either as you felt his seed flow into you, hot against your walls.

Your body went limp as Aemond rested over you, his length still buried inside of you as you lazily caressed his back.

You waited until you caught your breath again and your mind to clear before speaking.

“Aemond, I think that…” you began, unsure of what to say. “I believe that I am already with child.”

You felt him still over you as he looked at you through a hooded and lusty eye, quickly replaced by a wide one and parted lips.

“I cannot be certain but… it just, it might be,” you continued, a glint of hope in your eye.

Then he smiled so widely that you thought you would die of fondness, if possible. He pressed his forehead on yours as his grin only grew wider and then kissed you, deeply, lovingly, as if he was afraid you would break.

“I love you,” you breathed, eyes closed, enjoying his embrace.

Something in him broke, like a dam that he had built since he was a teenager, and all of the feelings he had securely put away all of those years came flowing down. He had so longed to hear those words come out of your lips.

“As do I. I always did,” he breathed in return as you opened your eyes to see him stare at you with complete fulfilment.

You never felt so happy.

It is said that vengeance did not accomplish anything. But as one of the White worms’ spies came with the news, that Prince Aemond, Regent of the realm had taken a wife, vengeance seemed sweet all of the sudden.

Here is an amazing art my dear @cyeco13 did for this chapter, and I can't believe how good it looks. Them, marrying, forever digitally inked.

-0- Part 21

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget @jeyramarie @ephemeralninon @mrswhitethornbelikov @dudfahsn @missusnora @queenofterrasen418 @honeytrapsblogp-graham @heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88 @ivartheblessed @xceafh @bubbletae7 @omgkatherine97 @tzipora-art @signyvenetia @ml0103 @nsainmoonchild @lonadane @skythighs @bietchz @samnblack @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @projectcampbell @ripdragonbeans @caribbeangal @polireader @zillahvathek @moni-cah @literishdegree99 @a-beaverhausen @thekinslayer @maniccrystalhippie @princessofdarkwinter @isaxbella749 @claudie-080102 @ebaylee422 @hydrationqueensworld @crumblychunksofheaven

[husbandomail]

Hi hi! Congrats on the move! I hope all things go well!

If it's okay to request, can I ask for headcanons on dating Dennis from YGO Arc-V, please?

thank you for the patience as I've been handling all that irl stuff ;w;

Dennis is, surprisingly, a good boyfriend. Before he’d properly asked you out, you probably would’ve assumed he wouldn’t take anything seriously— he is always busy making people laugh, after all, so how much attention can he really give you? But once you said yes and decided to try, he really gets to show off for you.

And show off he does. Massive bouquets of expensive flowers every week, either delivered straight to your job or waiting for you whenever you get home; constantly wanting to take you somewhere expensive for dinner, even tossing out the idea of flying cross-country to show you this exclusive restaurant he thinks you’ll like. Dennis is just so excited to take care of you, he can easily come off as overwhelming— if you’re into all the extravagance, he’s thrilled, but he’s also more than willing to back off if it’s not your style. He knows not everyone has the energy or wants to spend that kind of money, but the offer is always there.

He’s a very hands-on kinda guy for sure. Whenever the two of you are out together, he’s gotta have a hand on your waist, keep you tucked up against him somehow; if the two of you are lounging around at home, he’s always nearby enough that he can stretch out and touch you for comfort. It’s almost like having a cat, actually; even without realizing it, he finds himself trailing after you through the house, always wanting to be together. For some reason one of his favorites is coming up behind you while you’re cooking or doing dishes, resting his chin on your shoulder, hands on your hips, and just standing quietly. He didn’t realize before this that he needed to unwind, but now with you around, he’s always much more relaxed.

Dennis is an entertainer by profession, so if you’re comfortable with being in the spotlight, he’s more than happy to share you with the world. Bringing you onstage before his duels as a good-luck ritual— or, even better, dragging you into the world of entertainment with him as his partner in every sense of the term. He’s excited by the idea of the two of you, Entertainment Dueling’s favorite power couple— but of course, if you’d rather stay out of the spotlight, he understands that too. Either way, he’ll take care of you as best he can.

[pollenallergie]

Billisms Pt. 2

Some more headcanons about my favorite blorbo. Enjoy. <3

Side note: a bitch is running out of not-sad Billy Knight gifs so pls accept this up-close JQ gif instead (using an up-close gif bc Billy’s hair isn’t as curly as JQ’s)

Not only is Billy practically a grandmother trapped in a 26-year-old man’s body, he quite literally has a posse of elderly people (mostly elderly ladies) that he meets with once a week at the local community centre for a knitting circle. Although, occasionally, the group will switch things up by having Billy lead/instruct a paint night instead of doing their usual knitting and gossiping. His favourites of the group are Evelyn and Auggie. Evelyn is an 82-year-old who’s originally from Newcastle, and she’s one of Billy’s favourites because she’s quiet and doesn’t easily trust others, but once she opens up to you, she’s incredibly kind, although she’s also a bit of spitfire. Auggie is a 70-something-year-old native Londoner who tells the greatest stories, most of which occurred before he settled down with his husband Hugh, and who always carries around a bag of sweets to snack on throughout the day; Billy is the only person in the whole group who Auggie willingly shares his sweets with. <3

You and Billy tend to seek comfort using your foreheads… Let me explain… When you’ve had a rough day, you’ll come up to Billy and rest your forehead against his back or shoulder. When Billy’s not feeling well, he’ll come up to you, gently grab one of your hands, and hold it to his forehead so that the heat of your warm palm can soothe the pressure in his head. When either of you is having a bad mental health day and desperately need some reassurance and consolation, you’ll rest your foreheads against each other, breathing in each other’s air in deep, grounding breaths as you relish in the closeness. It’s something you’ve always done since you were a kid, and within the first few months of your relationship with Billy, he’d swiftly picked up that habit from you. <3

You like to bring Billy along with you to shop for clothes and makeup so that he can use his profound knowledge of colour theory and his artist’s eye to help you pick out the products and clothing items that will best compliment your features, your skin tone, your eye colour, the colour of your hair, etc. Then, afterward, you reward him for his complaint-less cooperation by letting him drag you along with him to do whatever it is that he wants to do; visit an art gallery or museum, go to his favourite bakery so that he can get some spiced chai and eat his weight in delightful little desserts, go shopping at the nearest craft store so he can stock up on yarn and art supplies, grab lunch at his favourite Vietnamese restaurant, walk around the Chelsea Physic Garden and marvel at all of the beautiful fauna, anything his lovely heart desires. <3

You and Billy adopted a cat shortly after moving in together. The little fella is seven years old, has a permanent resting bitch face, and is named Dennis after ‘Dennis the Menace’ because he’s a mischievous little guy. Despite his serious attitude problems, Billy loves that little guy more than life itself. Truthfully, Dennis is more so Billy’s cat than yours because he really only loves Billy, or at least, Billy’s the only one Dennis loves unconditionally. Don’t get me wrong, Dennis likes you a whole lot, he thinks you’re pretty great, but he definitely only loves you some of the time. Dennis loves you when you scritch his little chin, when you sneak him extra treats, and when you indulge his desire to be carried around like a human infant constantly. However, his love for you fades when you try to give him his antidepressants (yes, your cat is on antidepressants… he’s a little guy with big emotions), when you reprimand him for trying to hop up onto the counters and the kitchen table, when you move a little too much in your sleep, thereby interrupting his essential 12-hour-long nap, etc. Billy, however, can do no wrong in Dennis’s eyes. The way Dennis sees it, Billy is his biological mother, gender and species incompatibilities aside, while you are only his step-parent. <3

Billy’s the kind of partner that enjoys slow dancing with you in your kitchen, listening to slow, easy music whilst you both wait for your dinner — an impressive roast that Billy had been working on all evening with you as his sous chef — to finish cooking in the oven. <3

It’s like his brother’s ex-wife, Dawn, said, Billy’s “a sweet boy.” He’s always been a sweet boy. When he was little, before his mum passed, the ladies in the village used to think Billy was just darling, always doling out compliments and offering to help out in any way he could. His teachers always liked him, too; they said he was incredibly mild-mannered and bright. Really, the only people who’d never liked him were his father and his older brother, Jimmy. They had no empathy, no compassion. When Billy was having a rough time emotionally and mentally, they were quick to write him off as a burden or, worse, to punish him for something entirely out of his control. All their violence and vitriol only made things worse, made him more troubled, made the voices louder, made him more timid and uncertain, and made him more skittish. However, the wickedness of his father and brother could never dull his sparkle, could never rob him of his kindness, could never turn his warm, tender heart to cold stone. Even after all the horrors he’s endured at their hands, Billy’s still the sweetest man you’ve ever known. He’s sweet in more than just that classic, chivalrous way. Sure, he holds doors open for you, cooks for you, walks on the side of the pavement that’s closest to the street whenever the two of you walk to places together, constantly tells you how pretty you are and how much he loves you, etc. However, he also does much, much more than that. For example, Billy buys you a bouquet of flowers from the supermarket every single time he goes shopping for groceries. In fact, that’s something he started doing long before he even moved in with you. Billy would go to the supermarket or a nearby corner shop to stock up on groceries for him and his flatmate. On the way back to his flat, he would make a quick (truly not all that quick, as your flat was usually a bit out of the way) trip to your place to drop off a lovely bouquet that he’d bought for you and to check in on you. Also, on nights when it’s his turn to make dinner, Billy has you talk about what you’re studying in your courses at the moment (for my fellow university babes) or a project that you’re working on at your job whilst he cooks because he knows that you best absorb information and retain it long term when you teach it to others. I could go on and on about all the sweet things Billy does for you, but instead, I’ll just offer you one last example: He lets you cry when you need to. Billy doesn’t try to quiet you or to dry your tears; he holds you and lets you cry, lets you sob as loud as you need to, and lets you get it all out. He doesn’t try to talk you through it; he knows that’s not what you need. So, he just holds you. Whenever you try to put on a brave face and reign in your emotions, Billy will even encourage you to cry (gently and kindly, of course); he’ll remind you how good it is for you to let it out, how natural and valid it is to feel the way you’re feeling, and how it’ll likely make you feel much better if you face these intense emotions head on instead of repressing them. <3

[hopeintheashes]

buck looking after Chris outside, noticing he’s cold, and giving him his clothes then forgetting about it only for Eddie to notice when he joins them later on🥹

The sky had changed from dusk to dark in the time it'd taken Eddie to get his last beer. He steps out onto the patio in the glow of the string lights like tiny lanterns, a little bit floaty from the alcohol. The temperature has dropped, too. Almost like this place is a desert or something.

"Hi." Buck's arms around him from behind.

"Hi." He traces a hand up Buck's arm, and then back down. He's strong. Absurdly strong. And cold. He tips his head back against Buck's chest. Nudges Buck's chin with his temple until he gets a kiss.

Buck laughs. "Enjoying the fact that I'm the DD?"

"Mm." He angles for another kiss, and gets one. "Yeah." He rubs Buck's arm again. "You're cold."

Buck shrugs. "It's fine."

"Where's your shirt?" Not that he's not wearing a shirt. His second shirt. Flannel. Plaid. Lumberjack... vibes. That's what May would call it, right? He takes another sip of beer, contemplating.

Buck dips his chin down to rest on Eddie's shoulder and nods to where Denny and Chris are poking at something in the corner of the yard. Chris is wearing Buck's flannel with the sleeves rolled up. Buttoned all the way to the collar like it's a winter jacket. That's all Buck. Chris doesn't voluntarily do up any buttons he doesn't have to.

"Oh," he says, and it's more like a breath, warmth in his chest, and he turns in Buck's arms to kiss him again. "Yes. That's. Very dad."

"Very dad?" Buck's lips are playing like he's hiding a smile, but he's blinking fast against the sudden rush of emotion that Eddie can see in his eyes.

"Very," Eddie repeats, and walks them both the few steps to the patio furniture to sit down on the wicker couch. There's a blanket draped over the arm. Eddie wraps it around Buck's shoulders a little clumsily, and Buck puts his arm around Eddie so that he's under the blanket, too.

"This is nice." His eyes are already closing.

"Don't think Bobby and Athena want us spending the night in their backyard," Buck says, but it's quiet, just barely above the hum of everyone else washing from the house to the patio and back like steady ocean waves.

"You'll take me home," Eddie says, and Buck pulls the blanket tighter around them both, and nods against him, and Eddie closes his eyes and listens to Buck's breathing and Chris's laughter and the city-noises all around them.

Buck takes his beer from his loosening grasp and sets it on the table, and settles back in. "You know I will."

(send me a soft fall prompt and i'll write a little something)

[vicvinegarandhughhoney]

Dennis - asthma attack

I go runnin' when the night aches- Dennis Reynolds: Asthma Attack

A hazing ritual at Dennis' Penn fraternity goes awry, and he finds himself fighting for air outside Dee's dorm room door.

Read on AO3 here or below

is almost completely gone, reduced to a single tunnel surrounded by impenetrable blackness. If she doesn’t come soon, he’s going to pass out for sure. Unconsciousness wouldn’t sound like such a bad idea, either, if it weren’t for the unsettling feeling that if he succumbs to it, he’ll never wake up again.

At last, though-

“Oh Jesus Christ... Den?”

He’s never felt so relieved to hear his sister squawking in his whole life.

Dee enters his field of view, crouching down in front of him. Her eyes are widened with concern- maybe even fear.

“Dennis? You okay?”

He doesn’t really have the energy to answer her, so he settles for a weak shake of his head, the air still whistling through his parted lips. The way she glances down at them suggests they’re probably blue from the lack of oxygen that’s also making him feel vaguely like he’s floating.

Her hand finds his shoulder, warm and comforting just like it always is. In spite of their differences, she’s the closest thing to home he’s ever had. Safety.

“Hey, it’s alright, okay? I’m gonna go grab an inhaler- just stay right where you are.”

He wants to roll his eyes, murmur a ‘where the hell do you think I’m gonna go like this?’ but instead a frightened tear trickles unbidden down his cheek, and he nods. She disappears from view and his fingernails find purchase in the carpet outside the dorm room, gripping blindly to keep himself from passing out.

Her absence is thankfully short- just as he suspected, she always keeps an emergency inhaler in her nightstand for occasions like these. She shakes it as she drops down in front of him, urging him to lean forward and reaching out her other hand to guide his shaking chin so that his lips find the mouthpiece.

“Alright, breathe out.”

He obeys, heart skipping a beat when the remaining air in his lungs leaves them. Almost unconsciously, he reaches for his sister and finds her hand, having dropped from his chin the moment he moved, already on its way to gripping his. She interlocks their fingers and squeezes hard- so hard that the spots in his vision momentarily dissipate beneath the strength.

“3...2...1... breathe in.”

Oxygen. Sweet, sweet fucking oxygen, rushing in as the medication pushes his airways wider.

He inhales deeply, holding it in as fresh tears of relief prickle at the corners of his eyes then releasing.

“And again- 3...2...1... breathe in.”

Another flood of the medication, and this time when be breathes out, he collapses straight into his sister’s waiting arms with a grateful sob.

“I know...” she murmurs, voice low as if to disguise its gentleness. “You’re okay, Den. I got you.”

And it’s true. Here, outside her stuffy dorm room, curled up against Dee in her faded old pyjamas, he finds sanctuary- far more than he’s ever found within the walls of the Alpha Chi Rho house. As her hand brushes absently against his sweat-damp hair, he closes his eyes and tries his best to forget about the rest of the world. About hazing and pledging and initiations.

After all, he doesn’t really need frat brothers.

Not when he’s got his sister.

[codenamejudas]

@anotherhumanpet

(('he rested his chin on Dennis' shoulder' he pulled that child down to his level because fuck you, stop being taller than me when we hug))

~~yes exactly that~~

[glorious-spoon]

One line any fic! Rules: pick ten of your fics, scroll to somewhere midpoint, pick a line chunk and share it, and then tag ten people.

I was tagged by @hetrez - thank you! Trying to do a little bit of everything, because I’ve written in approximately a million different fandoms :D

1. Star of the Masquerade (Stranger Things) Eddie opens his mouth, then shuts it again. Finally he laughs.

“Well, that’s an incentive,” he says. “Better be a good kiss, though.”

“Oh, it will be.”

“I’m talking fireworks here, baby.”

“Sure,” Steve says, achingly fond.

2. Meaningful Relationships (9-1-1) Hen nods. She doesn’t have a lot left in her right now: hospital stays are never exactly restful, and she kept jerking awake what felt like every five minutes from nightmares of Jonah’s face looming like a skull out of the darkness, tears on her face, panic thrumming through her. But she can manage that much, at least. For Denny. For her mom, too, although she’ll never admit how afraid she must have been where Hen might overhear it. “What are they making?”

“Waffles, I think. Toni got some blueberries from the farmer’s market.” Karen opens the door but doesn’t slide in; instead, she cups Hen’s cheek with a careful palm, and the tears are suddenly very close. “How are you, really?”

3. Nothing Dies in Derry (IT) Patty glances over at him, braking at the red light that was a stop sign when Richie lived here, the crossroads that changes from Route 69 to Kansas Street. Ahead of them the oil-stained pavement curves over the hump of Up-Mile Hill. He can almost see a thirteen-year-old Bill Denbrough flying down it, standing up in Silver’s pedals with the playing cards in the spokes roaring as he dodged traffic.

4. At the Edge of the World (The Witcher) “I should have.” Geralt’s face twists like he’s been poisoned, and then he adds, reluctantly, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that looked like it hurt. Did it? Is your tongue smoking from the effort of uttering one single solitary apology to your dearest friend?”

“Do you ever stop?”

“If you think you’re getting out of it that easily, you clearly haven’t met me.”

5. All the Time in the World (The Old Guard) “We are old men,” he retorts, bumping his shoulder against Nicky’s while they watch an elderly couple make their slow, careful way up the steps. The man holds out a knotted hand for his hijabi companion to grasp. They’re bent and aged, and they could be Nicky’s grandchildren a few dozen generations removed. It isn’t usually the sort of thing he considers anymore, but this has been a week for consideration. 

6. Unmasked (The Man From U.N.C.L.E.) Illya huffs, exasperated, but he can’t deny that the normalcy of bickering with Napoleon has settled him some. He doesn’t know how much of that is intentional: how much of Napoleon’s light good humor is one of his masks that he seems able to slip on and discard at will.  

7. Risks and Consequences (Agent Carter) Daniel reached for his crutch and pulled himself upright, then leaned down to untangle his prosthesis from his trousers and sock. There was something so lovely about him in that moment, mussed and tired and anxious, unselfconsciously naked in the gentle morning light. “You know he’s gonna be on the next flight back to New York.”

“I do know that. I propose we intervene.”

8. With Loves Like These (Shadowhunters) Izzy rolls onto her back, then turns over, pushing herself up on one elbow. On the other side of the room, Clary is perched cross-legged on her desk, wearing boxer shorts, mismatched fuzzy socks, and nothing else. An enormous newsprint pad is spread across her lap, and there are smudges of charcoal on her fingers and more smeared on her cheeks and temples where she must have shoved her hair out of her face without thinking. She’s unbelievably beautiful.

9. Hell Bent and Bound (Leverage) “I’m sending you the cleaning bill for my suit, too,” Hardison adds. Eliot finally lifts his eyes from the bar and looks at him. He raises his chin, looking belligerent and very young. “You got a problem with that?”

“I’ll buy you a new suit,” Eliot says. “Since when do you drink champagne?”

“Since the guy who’s supposed to make sure I get out in one piece stood there and watched me drown in a pool,” Hardison says, and Eliot has to hand it to him: his voice doesn’t even shake. It feels like a slap in the face. 

10. Full Immunity and Means (Hawaii Five-0) “So,” he says later, in the car. “Bisexual, huh?”

“Really?” Danny snaps, clinging to the grab-handle for dear life as they slalom into oncoming traffic. “Really, now, you want to have this conversation now? Eyes on the road," he adds, several decibels louder, when Steve glances at him.

-

No-pressure tagging @lynne-monstr, @pizzaqueen, @alessandriana, @yesiwasateenagewerewolf, @tinyangryeddie, @hmslusitania, and anyone else who wants to play!

[winterapocalypse]

Winter Apocalypse chapter 7

The Magic Runes

"We have, however, spotted a foal…"

"Could it be…?"

"We believe it might be a new seal…"

The two young boys had to stand very close to the rune drawn on the brick wall to hear the conversation, and even then it was disconnected and barely audible.

"Dude, your runes suck," said the tallest boy, Aegon. He was very tall and thin, with very pale skin and hair of a cold, pure bright platinum colour, reaching down to his skinny shoulders on which it lay in soft silvery ringlets. They were dyed at the tips by Tyrosh's dye, bright blue and almost indigo, similar to the colour of his deep, dark violet eyes, large and surrounded by long, silver eyelashes like his hair. On his pale, soft face with gentle, almost feminine features was a very light make-up-indigo eyeshadow on his large eyes and a vague blush on his cheeks too pale for Westerosi. He wore what at first glance might have looked like a classic Winter Westeros uniform- but in reality it was deeply modified. The coat he wore was black and classic, with the blue and copper trim and lining of the house to which he belonged - Ravenclaw. He wore it on his shoulders, but just resting it against his body, almost like a cape - and underneath the cape, a colourful T-shirt of a music band that probably only he knew. Not that the others cared about his musical extravaganzas- Aegon had lived in too many places and cities foreign and not to remember them all, and his knowledge of indie shit was immense. He wore tight, dark jeans with fake cuts and rips-he would never dare ruin the designer jeans his father used to get him-and his usual, beloved midnight-blue, copper-striped converse shoes. Aegon was glaring at the red-haired one, the rune-maker.

"It's not my fault, Aegon! I'm only in my third year, and…. there's some kind of spell that avoids listening in on the conversation. You've tried it too, other spells don't work. Let's keep the runes."

Aegon snorted again. It was true, unfortunately. He could do nothing but agree with Dennis.

He and Dennis had known each other for several years since Aegon had joined the Westerosi Quidditch team, coached by the boy's older brother and whose main athlet and fighter was Dennis's older, middle sister. Dennis could be defined as an eccentric boy - over his naturally auburn hair he always wore a very strong fiery red dye, sometimes blood red, so heavy and copious that it ran down his neck and ears, pierced by various earrings and piercings, some with chains and others ring, almost all in bronze, the metal sacred to his father's family, the Royces of the Valley. He always had a thick layer of black mascara around his very blue eyes, a clear legacy of his mother, a rich noblewoman of Lys, and heavy fiery red lipstick the same color as his hair. His paleness was helped by the several layers of milky white foundation he applied clumsily to his face every day. Sometimes it stopped just under his chin, leaving his neck its usual color, and sometimes, like today, it went down to his collarbones, staining white the colorful neon green and yellow shirt he wore under his Winter Hogwarts robes , so full of pins and studs and safety pins and sketches that it's barely recognizable as such. He had his Ravenclaw tie tied around his neck, and there were pins hanging from it too - some even in the shape of runes. The plaid trousers were too baggy and short for his long, thin legs, and he had to hold them up with a pair of old suspenders that he had found somewhere. The trousers could barely fit into the old and tattered boots, blood red and with two different colored laces. Runes were drawn on them too, but Aegon did not grasp their meaning. Maybe they were to help him stand better, given how clumsy and fragile Dennis was.

Both boys, a few hours earlier had witnessed the Night's Watch marching through the main gate of Winter Hogwarts together, and all the professors and even the headmaster participated in their arrival. The Night's Watch were losers, everyone knew it. Scum of the wizarding world. Every now and then these inmates from that much inferior school came to resupply at Winter Hogwarts, but no one ever cared. This time, however, it was treated as something special…

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[flirtatiuus]

@goodheartt sent: 🙄 ( EYEROLL ) - receiver is having sender meet their toxic family for the first time and after storming out with sender in tow, receiver blows off steam with sender in the car a few blocks down the road

It was a good thing that it was another rainy, miserable night in Philly. Nobody wanted to be out in the storm this late without a damn good reason. Having to deal with Frank's taunts and jeers was as good a reason as any to brave a thunderstorm warning, and one of the few things that could get both of them angry enough to need an immediate outlet. When they parked at the very back of the nearly empty lot they both knew what had to be done.

A single light shone on the side of the apartment building a few yards from the car. The parking lot was mostly empty save for a few cars clustered as close to the doors as possible. Rain pounded on the windows and the roof and thunder cracked in the distance. At least they didn't have to worry about being too loud. The skies seemed as angry as they were, as eager to expel their tumultuous energy.

The minute they had gotten into the back seat their hands were all over each other's bodies. Sat side by side they twisted to be with each other. Lips collided, brimming with violence, exorcising demons as they pushed their tongues together. With a firm and sensual touch Jin grasped at his lover's crotch as if he was angry at the clothing that separated his hand from Dennis's body. A gasp pulled Jin's lips away as his hands worked at his partner's button and zipper. With the front of Dennis's jeans opened up Jin rested his hand above the waistband of their briefs.

"You're so fucking gorgeous it pisses me off," he grumbled, resting his chin on his partner's shoulder. His free hand stroked Dennis's hair, fingers curling and threatening to tug on wavy brown locks.

"I need you to do things to me that would make a nun cry," he said. His lips curled into a smirk. "Now... Please."

[little-corritrice]

Light of My Life - Chapter 23

Synopsis - y/n was your ordinary young women, who happened to be the daughter of Christian Horner. She is there every race, and every day, See how she gets along with everyone, including a special someone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(So so sorry for anyone named Alyssa...<3)

I was still sitting there, smiling at the boys playing football now. I laughed as Lando tried to kick it, but fell on his side. He whined as the others messed with him, stepping over him, and lightly kicking the ball at him. I snapped out of my thoughts as I felt arms on my shoulder, making me look up. Alex smiled down, giving me a quick kiss. I laughed as he picked me up, setting me back down on his lap. "Are you happy?" He asked softly, resting his chin on my shoulder as I looked forward. "Of course I am." I smiled, snuggling closer. "A perfect day with family, and I am okay." I chuckled, looking up. "I am perfectly happy." I said, kissing his cheek. "Good." He whispered as everyone settled down, gathering around the campfire. Most of the boys had their girlfriends sitting on the arm of the chair, or on their laps.

We all started talking about stories, our lives, and just nonsense. I felt very at peace, and laid my head on Alex's shoulder. He smiled, rubbing my waist. "So, what are we all going to do now? It's like midnight and I am sure most of these boys are wasted." Carmen, George's girlfriend, says. "Well, we can put the boys in the guest room, or you guys can all have a room for yourselves. I got 3 spare bedrooms in the main house, then we have like 4 guest houses." I laughed, finding it ridiculous how much rooms we have. "I think whoever is going to stay should get their own room honestly." I said, Alex nodding along. "I'm totally fine with anyone staying. We can even go out for breakfast, or play some games before everyone leaves." He said, making me laugh. After we sorted out the rooms, and I said goodbye to everyone, I went to the living room. 

Most of the boys were a little sober now, so it was good, but they were still too drunk. Everyone went to their rooms, the only people staying being Robert, Oscar and his girlfriend, Dennis, Arthur, and Mick. They all stayed in the out houses, with Robert and Dennis sharing one, along with Mick and Arthur. Me and Alex made sure they were tucked in, and left to the main house. I shut the back door, leaving it unlocked for the boys. I made sure the front door was locked before going to the kitchen. I cleaned up a little, and was about to go upstairs when something caught my eye. I went to it, seeing a little letter. I grabbed it, carefully opening it. I pulled the handwritten letter out, and started reading.

Barely on the first sentence, I started to cry. I laughed, the tears falling down my face. I held the letter to my heart, laughing at it. Alex came down, seeing me crying. He smiled as I laughed, taking me in his arms. "Come on. Let's go lay down since it's almost like 2 am." He said, pulling me gently. "I need a shower." I said, wiping my tears while still laughing. "Well, let's go take one then." He laughed, pulling me in the bedroom. I smiled as he went to start the shower. I opened my drawer, seeing the familiar purple striped box. I grabbed it, opening it and putting the letter in. I grabbed a photo, giving it a little kiss before putting the box back. I got up, grabbing some clothes, and going to the bathroom. Alex was already in there, humming softly. "You couldn't wait for me?" I giggled as he made a nervous chuckle. "I'm only playing." I said, getting in.

Time Skip ~ Two Weeks Later

I was currently in the Red Bull garage, looking over some data that was taken from Max's practice laps. I hummed out a tune, grabbing the papers, and walking to the car. I hoped in, turning on the main console. I looked over the paper, taking the pen out of my mouth and marking some things. I flinched as their was a loud bang on the side. "What are you doing in my car?" Max asked, laughing at me. "You scared me!" I scoffed, throwing the pen at him. He dodged it, moving to look over me. "Sorry. I'm trying to make sure you don't tweak my car to make me crash." He shrugged, making me roll my eyes. "I should now." I said, getting back to work. He laughed, and stayed there, annoying me until I jumped out and smacked him. "Your so mean." He whined as he rubbed his head. I smirked, walking off with my new found juice box.

I went to the hospitality lounge, grabbing myself three juice boxes, and a couple snacks. I threw them in my backpack, about to leave when I see someone I didn't want to. I tried turning before she saw me, but it was too late. "y/n! Is that you?!" She said in her annoying high-pitched voice. I turned around, giving her a obviously fake smile. "Alyssa. Hi." I said. She was about to hug me, but I held my arms up and backed away. "We are not friends, and never were. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go back to the garage." I said, walking off. I didn't think she would follow, but she did. I stopped outside the garage entrance. She grabbed my arm, clinging to it. "So, do you know Max and Alex? They are SO hot!" She squealed, making me roll my eyes. "Yea. One's my boyfriend, the other is like my brother." I said, getting out of her grip and walking in. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at me.

[disturbedbydesign]

Take Me Home - Part 7

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

SUMMARY: It’s been nearly a year since your ex-boyfriend dumped you and left you with a laundry list of insecurities, and you haven’t been able to really put yourself out there since. But when Dennis shows up at the adoption fair you’re running for your job at the animal shelter, there’s just something about him that makes you feel like you’re ready to try again.

WORD COUNT: 5.4K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Oral (M Receiving), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering. 18+ only, no minors.

*TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @filthy-gorgeous, @whatinthestyles, @justile, @mazarinqueen, @valhalla-kristin

*Taglist is open to 18+ readers (no blank blogs) who comment, reblog, and/or chat with me via asks. If you just want to read lowkey, that’s cool and you do you, but the taglist is reserved for the lovely people who want to interact with me and my story :)

Series Masterlist

Part Seven

“What the fuck is a bad penis?”

“I don’t even know,” Dennis replies. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” You run your hand through his hair gently as you sit curled up next to him on the couch. “All that shit she said to you… anyone would feel the way you’re feeling.”

Your heart is breaking for Dennis. You’d thought Brad was cruel, but the things Dennis is telling you—all the ways Karen made him feel inadequate, the absolutely horrible things she said to him over the course of their marriage… it makes you so incredibly sad, but it also makes you fucking furious. You temper your rage, though, because Dennis doesn’t need to see that. He needs softness and tenderness; he needs you to listen and to understand.

And you do, because you know what it feels like when someone puts things into your mind that you can’t shake even after that person is gone. You know what it feels like to have insecurities that paralyze you. Of course, it was different with Brad; he made you feel like shit about your body and made you feel crazy, but you see now that it was all just a form of control. He made you insecure so he could take advantage of you and make you feel grateful that he would even want you at all. And so you did whatever he asked, whenever he asked, even if you weren’t in the mood.

You tell Dennis this, but you can’t bring yourself to get into specifics about the things Brad said about your body. You don’t want to call his attention to things he might not notice on his own. He doesn’t push you for details, just tells you that you’re beautiful and that you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. You feel bad, though, because he’s being so open and honest and vulnerable and you feel like you’re holding back.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” You rest your head on his shoulder, his bare skin warm against your cheek, but you’re unable to look at his face. “I just… part of me just wants to forget, and I feel like if I say it out loud, it’s going to affect the way you look at me.”

“Then don’t say it,” he replies, bringing two fingers to your chin and tilting your head so you’ve got no choice but to look him in the eyes. “I can promise you that it wouldn’t change the way I look at you, but if you think it’s better to just leave it in the past, then that’s what you should do. The only reason I feel like I have to tell you things is because… well, for one, my therapist says I do. If I hear the words ‘open, honest communication’ out of his mouth one more time I might lose it, but I know he’s right. ”

“What else did he say?” you ask, and it makes you happy to know that Dennis is getting professional help, that at least he’s had someone to talk to about all this.

“He wants me to be able to express my needs—both the emotional ones and the physical ones. He, uh, he told me not to… that we shouldn’t… you know, go too far until I felt like I could talk to you about this stuff.”

“So what do you need?” you ask. “I want to know. I don’t want to do the wrong thing or say the wrong thing or-”

“You could never,” he says. “You always do the right thing and say the right thing. If you didn’t, I would never have been able to go out with you.”

“Yeah, but I need you to tell me so I don’t screw up.”

Dennis sighs. “I just… I need you to be patient with me when it comes to the physical stuff. I’m just so in my own head about it and it’s been a really long time since I felt any sort of… confidence in that area. I mean, I haven’t had sex in almost 6 years. I feel like I don’t even remember how to do it, and that maybe I never knew how to do it.”

You manage to keep the shock off your face but six fucking years? You can’t imagine going that long without any sort of intimacy, and you find yourself feeling so grateful—that he trusts you enough to tell you these things, that he wants you to be the person to help him heal. You want him so badly, but you know you need to go at his pace.

“We can go as slow as you want to, Dennis.”

“That’s the thing, though. I don’t want to go slow. I want to make you happy and, you know, satisfy you and I just… I don’t think I can.”

“You can,” you say, “and you will. I’m not going anywhere. We have all the time in the world to figure it out. And you already make me happy.”

Dennis squeezes his eyes closed and takes a deep breath. “Will you… can you… show me? You know, what you like?”

You smile at him and run your thumb across his beard. “Of course,” you say, “but maybe we should wait a little while. I mean, not too long…”

Dennis chuckles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, maybe we should. I just… it’s hard. I just want to be normal. I’m sure the last thing you were looking for is some headcase who can’t fuck you.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” you command. “Those are her words coming out of your mouth. That’s not what you are to me. Not at all.”

“Then what am I?” he asks.

“You’re the sweetest, kindest guy I’ve ever met. You’re emotionally intelligent and you actually care about me, about how I feel and what I want. And all of that is so incredibly sexy, you have no idea. You’re also really fucking hot. Like, I maybe should have made you put a shirt on before trying to have a deep meaningful conversation with you because all of this is very distracting.”

Dennis blushes as you toy with the hair on his chest, and when he shifts in his seat and clears his throat you don’t have to look down to know there’s a growing tent in his khakis. You should stop. You know you should. But six fucking years… you just want to make him feel good and take his mind off all of this shit.

“Shit,” he says. “Sweetheart, you gotta stop or else-”

“Or else what?” you whisper. “You’ll get hard?”

“I’m halfway there already and if you keep touching me like that…”

“Let me make you feel good, Dennis. You don’t have to do anything. I just… I want to. Can I touch you?”

You feel like maybe you’re pushing him too far. You literally just talked about this and agreed to slow down, but you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so badly in your life and if anyone needs their dick sucked, it’s Dennis.

“Y- Yes,” he stutters. “Yes, please.”

“So polite,” you say, moving your hand down to palm him through his pants.

He hisses when your hand finds his bulge and fuck is it big. You don’t waste too much time outside the pants because you know this poor man isn’t going to last long and you just want to taste him anyway. You slide down onto the floor on your knees in front of him and lick your lips as you unbuckle his belt, and when you finally get his cock free and get your first look at it you actually moan. Jax isn’t the only one in this house with three legs.

“What?” he asks. “Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Oh, baby. It’s not bad. It’s fucking huge. Just wanna…”

You’re so mesmerized by the sight of his cock you can’t even finish your sentence. You can see the precum beading at his tip and you need to taste him and feel him in your mouth. You grab his pants at the waist and pull on them, and he lifts up enough for you to get them down around his knees and out of your way. When you grip the base of his cock, you can barely get your hand around it and you know you’ll never be able to fit all of him in your mouth but you’re sure as hell gonna try. All the muscles in his abs and his chest tense and release, and when you bring your mouth to his slit and the salty-sweet taste of him hits your tongue for the first time, you know you’re already addicted to him. 

He moans, “Oh, fuck,” and his voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it and you feel it in your core.

You gently stroke the length of him as you take his swollen head into your mouth and wrap your lips around it, giving open-mouthed kisses to his tip. When you swirl your tongue around his head, it pulls the sweetest sounds out of him and you can’t get enough of the way your name falls from his lips as you start to take him deeper, getting him wetter with each bob of your head. You pop off him and spit, working him with both hands as you take in the sight of him, already absolutely wrecked.

“Does that feel good, baby?” you ask, even though you don’t need to.

“So fucking good. Fuck. I’m not gonna last, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have to. I wanna make you cum. I wanna taste you.”

You flatten your tongue and lick the underside of his cock from base to tip, eyes rolling back in your head as you feel his veins pulsing against your tongue. The way he’s watching you, pupils blown and lashes fluttering behind his glasses, has you soaking through your panties. You can’t take your eyes off of him, not even when you hollow your cheeks and take him as deep as your gag reflex will allow, and then a little bit farther. His hips jerk ever so slightly and he pushes a little farther into your throat, and even though you’re gagging and the tears threaten to come you don’t want to let go.

“Oh fuck, oh baby, you feel so fucking good.”

You pop off him for air and stroke him harder and faster now, telling him how much you love the feel of his cock in your throat and how good he tastes. His eyes roll back as you swirl your thumb around his tip and he groans low and deep before his eyes lock onto yours.

“I want… I wanna… oh fuck sweetheart, that feels good.”

“Tell me what you want, Dennis,” you say. “It’s ok.”

“Wanna see you. Will you… can you take off…”

He doesn’t finish but you know what he wants. “You wanna see my tits, baby?”

“Fuck yes. Please. Wanna cum on ‘em.”

You were nervous about showing that part of yourself to him before, but the way he’s begging for it has you giddy. You reach back and unclasp your bra, and when you let it fall to the floor, he moans, “Oh my god, you’re fucking perfect,” before sitting up and taking your breasts in his hands. His touch is gentle but needy, and you keep stroking him as he massages your breasts but it’s getting harder and harder to focus on him because his hands feel so fucking good and you want to feel them everywhere. You look up at him, his pretty lips so close to yours as he digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“I love the way your hands feel on me,” you tell him.

“Yeah?” he asks, and you can tell he really has no idea how crazy his touch is making you and all you want is for him to know exactly how good he’s making you feel.

Because you don’t feel self-conscious. You’re not thinking about all the things you hate about yourself. You can see yourself through his eyes, and his eyes are hungry and desperate and filled with such an urgent need for you that it’s making you dizzy. When he rolls your nipples between his fingers you bring your lips to his and kiss him deep, moaning your pleasure into his mouth because you’ve lost the ability to form words. You’re absolutely throbbing for him, but this isn’t about you—not right now.

You pull out of the kiss and take his cock in your mouth again, gripping his thighs as you bob your head and feeling his muscles jump under your touch as you take him as deep as you can.

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. I’m gonna cum.”

You pop off of him and move in close to him, putting your hands on top of his as you nestle his cock between your breasts. It’s wet enough already, but you spit on it anyway as you guide his hands where they need to be. He doesn’t need your help anymore, though. He’s got your tits shoved together, wrapped around his cock, and he’s snapping his hips as he fucks up against you, the tip of his cock hitting your open mouth at the end of each thrust.

“That’s it, baby,” you say. “Just like that. You wanna cum on my tits?”

He nods vigorously and speaks through gritted teeth. “S- So bad. ‘M so close.”

“Go on, then. Make a mess.”

Dennis’s thrusts grow erratic and his pecs tense up tight before he snaps and lets go with a series of shaky moans. You feel the first spurt warm against your chin and you stick your tongue out to get a taste of it, moaning as you watch him come undone in front of you. He pulls back a little and takes himself in his hand, painting you with hot stripes until you’re absolutely dripping with him. When he’s done, he falls back panting and looks at you, and you think for a moment the post-nut clarity might hit and he’ll be ashamed or embarrassed, but no.

“That was incredible,” he says. “You look so pretty covered in my cum, sweetheart. Come here.”

Dennis reaches out and pulls you up off the floor and into his lap. You straddle him as he gently rubs his spend into your skin, and when he starts to swirl it around your hard nipples, you shudder and clench around nothing. You’d almost forgotten how sensitive your nipples are, how your body responds to even the lightest touch, because for so long you’d been hiding that part of yourself—wearing a bra during sex or covering yourself with your hands. It’s almost too much, and you grab his hand and suck his fingers clean and then he pulls you into a kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he tastes himself on you. When he pulls away, he’s got you breathless and desperate for your own release because who the fuck is this Dennis and where has he been hiding?

“Let me get you cleaned up,” he says, and you think he’s going to go grab a washcloth or something but no—he takes off his glasses and tosses them aside, and then he brings his tongue to your skin and starts to lick you clean.

Oh. Oh. He’s filthy.

***

Dennis doesn’t know where he finds the audacity to do all of these things he wants to do to you—things he didn’t even know he wanted to do—but the second you wrapped your lips around his cock it was like he was a different person. Karen hated blowjobs (or at least she claimed to) and once they got married, she’d stopped doing it because, “a girlfriend has to give blowjobs, a wife doesn’t.” And of course he’d never asked for it, even when they were still having regular sex. He would never pressure someone to do anything they didn’t want to do.

But you… you were literally salivating the second you got your eyes on his dick. He could feel how much you wanted him in your mouth and he’d never felt so desired before. It wasn’t a chore for you; you wanted it, and he could see how much you loved pleasuring him in that way. Dennis wants to do the same for you, for you to see in his eyes how much he wants you, but while he’s certainly found his voice enough to ask for what he wants, he hasn’t had a chance to ask you what you like.

But something about the way your body responded to him when he touched your breasts makes him think that you’d like him to do it again, and god your tits are incredible and all he wants is to feel every inch of them with his lips and his tongue. So he just goes for it, and he knows it takes you by surprise, but you don’t stop him. Instead, you arch your back and grab the back of his head and hold him against your flesh and tell him, “Fuck, that feels good. Please don’t stop.”

He tastes himself on your skin as he cleans you up and there’s something so incredibly intimate about it. It’s nothing Dennis has ever done before but he’s always been curious, even tasted his own cum once or twice before when he’d got himself off, but it’s different like this—the mixture of his own spend and the taste of the sweat on your skin as you writhe in his arms has him intoxicated. He just wants to please you. Fuck, he really wants to make you cum.

He takes one of your nipples into his mouth and sucks on it gently as his hand cups your other breast, and when he wraps his lips around it and applies a little pressure, you moan and grab his bicep as you shudder.

“Too hard?” he asks.

“No,” you whisper. “So fucking good, Dennis. Keep doing that.”

He takes his time, worshipping every inch of your chest with his hands and his mouth. You’re making such pretty sounds—desperate little whimpers and breathy moans and fuck when you say his name, it shoots straight to his dick. Because he’s the one making you feel this way, he’s the one making you feel this good. He kisses up your breastbone to your neck, and when he reaches a spot just above where your neck meets your shoulder, you cry out and tug on his hair and it makes him growl against your skin.

“Touch me, Dennis,” you beg. “Please. I’ll show you what to do. I need it so bad. I need you.”

You unbutton your shorts and guide his hand down inside them, underneath your panties, and you’re absolutely dripping.

“You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart.”

You speak low into his ear. “Mhmm. You did that. Do you feel what you do to me?”

With your hand placed on top of his, you use his fingers to teach him how to touch you and what you like. You show him how to rub your clit in circles, how much pressure to use and where, when to change it up and give your pussy some attention. And fucking hell when you guide his middle finger to your entrance and tell him to put it inside you, his cock springs to full attention against his stomach. You feel like hot velvet against his finger as he slowly moves it in and out of you, at the pace you set for him. 

He wants to see you—all of you—but he figures you would have taken your clothes off if you wanted to be naked. He knows you’re sensitive about your body, that it’s probably a lot for you to be even half naked in front of him, but fuck if he knows what you’re so concerned about because you’re the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. He brings his mouth back to your nipples to suckle you while you fuck yourself with his finger, telling him to add a second one and moaning when he gives it to you. He brings his thumb up to your clit and rubs it like you showed him and you cry out, “Yes yes just like that. Doing so good for me, baby. Gonna make me cum.”

Oh, he likes that. He likes that a lot, and when the pad of his middle finger finds a spot deep inside you that feels a little different, he crooks his fingers a bit and you lose it.

“Oh, fuck. Right there. That’s it. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

“Is that… did I find…”

“Yes, baby. Yes. Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum. Keep going. Please please please please fuck you feel so good.”

He wouldn’t dream of stopping, not now, not when he found your fucking G-spot on the first try and he’s soaked to his wrist in you. You tell him faster, harder, and he hangs on your every word, following your instructions until you squeeze your eyes closed and grab his wrist to still his fingers as you cum, your thighs shaking around his as you sigh your pleasure into the crook of his neck. He can feel your walls clamping down on him and you’re gushing around his fingers but he doesn’t dare move them yet. When you go limp in his arms and fall against his chest, he takes it as a sign to very slowly pull them out of you. He pops them straight into his mouth, needing to taste you, and you watch him with your mouth hanging open and your chest heaving as he licks them clean.

“Mmm,” he says, moaning around his own fingers as you watch him wide-eyed, “you taste incredible.”

Fuck he wants to bury his face between your thighs and eat you alive but he’s not quite ready for that yet—best to quit while he’s ahead. You pull him in for a kiss by the back of his neck.

“That was amazing,” you say. “Thank you.”

“No,” he says. “Thank you.” He grabs his glasses and puts them back on so he can see your pretty face better—and you’re fucking glowing and you look like an actual angel laying across his lap, looking up at him with a lazy smile. “I, uh, I don’t know what got into me, I just…”

“Well, whatever it was, I hope it gets into you again.”

You reach up and push a strand of hair behind his ear, and he can tell you’re trying to ignore the fact that he still has an erection but you can’t because it’s basically right next you your head.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “It’ll, uh, settle down.”

“No,” you reply. “I’m impressed. I mean you literally just came, like, a lot and everywhere.”

“You just felt so fucking good. I couldn’t stop it.”

“It’s a good thing, Dennis. Because, I mean, you said you’re worried about cumming too quick during sex, but if you can get hard again in like .5 seconds, it doesn’t even matter how fast you cum the first time.”

“I never thought of it like that,” he says.

“Well, I’m thinking about it,” you reply, “and, believe me, it’s fine.”

Dennis runs his hand down the length of your body, feeling the way it dips and curves, and he feels good—no, he feels fucking great—because he’s not afraid anymore. Well, he sort of is—there’s lots more for him to learn about you and there will surely be some awkward stops and starts along the way, but he trusts you 100% and he knows you’ve got his back. You’re everything he hoped you would be and more, and he just feels so lucky to have found someone who just seems to get him. Even before he told you everything, he felt like you understood him, but now he feels a surge of something—is that confidence?—that tells him that whatever happens, it’ll all be ok because it’s with you.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask.

“My girlfriend and how perfect she is.”

“Well, she’s a lucky girl,” you say.

Dennis bends his head to kiss you but before he gets a chance, he hears Jax whimpering at the back door.

“Shit,” he says, grabbing a blanket to cover both of your nakedness.

You giggle and look at him sideways. “He’s a dog, Dennis. He doesn’t care if we’re naked.”

“It’s just… It’s weird. He’s like my child.”

“We should get dressed anyway,” you say. “And, fuck, what time is it?”

“Almost 11.”

“I should get home,” you say, but he really doesn’t want you to.

“Don’t go,” he says. “Stay with me.”

“I shouldn’t. I have to work tomorrow, and Mal is out so I have to get home for Badger.”

“Ok,” he says, “I understand.” Dennis pulls his pants back on and grabs your shirt and bra off the floor. “Here.”

“I want to stay, Dennis. You know I do, right?”

“I know. It’s ok. I just… I already miss you and you haven’t even left.”

You smile. “Why don’t you come over to my place tomorrow night? I want you to meet Mal and Badger. We can go out to dinner and she can grill you. It’ll be fun.”

“You want me to meet your friend?” he asks. “Isn’t that… I mean, do you think she’s gonna like me?”

“She’s going to adore you because I adore you. So, will you come?”

“I’d love to,” he says.

“Good, now let that good boy out before he has an accident.”

You put the rest of your clothes back on as Dennis walks over to the back door, and when he opens it Jax bolts towards his favorite pee spot by the fence.

“I should take him for a proper walk,” he says, “but I’ll let you go first.”

You tell him you’ll call him in the morning and give him the sweetest kiss goodnight. He walks you to your car, and then you give him another one.

“Goodnight, boyfriend,” you say.

“Goodnight, girlfriend,” he replies, that I love you right on the tip of his tongue before he snatches it back.

***

Mal isn’t home yet when you get there but she’s left you a note next to the note from your dog walker telling you Badger ate all his dinner and took his allergy pill.

Might stay over at Mr. Hipster’s tonight. Don’t wait up xoxo. 

This is Mal’s second official date with Mr. Hipster, whose name is actually Carl but you can’t bring yourself to use it. She claims she doesn’t like him like that and that the sex is just good, but you can tell she’s lying to herself a little bit. She’s been texting with him and talking on the phone, which she never does. You’d love to see Mal in a real relationship if that’s what she wants, and you hope that Mr. Hipster is the right guy for her. You don’t judge her for living that casual sex lifestyle, but you know Mal—she has so much love to give and you just want her to stop wasting time on guys who aren’t worthy of her. You want her to find her person.

It’s better that she’s not home, though, because you need to decompress. Your evening with Dennis was… a lot—not bad, per se, just intense. You feel like you did a dating speed run and while you’re happy and relieved to have gotten a lot of stuff out on the table early on, to know 100% that you and Dennis are on the same page, it’s still a lot to digest. 

As you walk Badger around the block, you try not to think about that evil fucking bitch Karen and what she did to Dennis but it’s impossible. It’s hard for you to even comprehend how someone could treat him like that, how a person could do anything but love him. You hate her for the things that she did and said to him. Just the thought of her putting her hands on him makes you fucking feral with rage. You wanted to hit her so badly when she showed up at his place, to give her a taste of her own medicine, but you’re not a violent person. Everyone has their limits, though, and it amazes you that Dennis never once fought back. He could have snapped her like a fucking twig, but he never touched her. It makes you so sad for him, but it also makes you love him that much more.

When you get back inside, you take a shower because you smell like a fucking cum rag and you can’t let your filthy skin touch your sheets. You can still feel Dennis all over you and in you, and you’re actually pleasantly sore from just his fingers. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything besides your own fingers inside of you and his are just so long and thick. If this is what two fingers did to you, god help you when you have to take his cock. You’ll make it fit, though. You know you will.

Freshly showered and moisturized, you slip into some comfy pajamas and get under the covers and Badger jumps up into his spot on the bed. You grab your phone to send Mal a quick text and let her know you’re home when you see a text from Dennis. It’s a picture of him shirtless in bed with Jax with a message.

Bed felt too empty without you.

God, he should not be allowed to be this sweet and cute and also have that sinful fucking body. It’s unfair, really. You contemplate sending back a thirst trap of your own but decide against it. You just send him a message instead—Goodnight, my sweet boys—and a kissy face emoji.

You shoot Mal a quick text to tell her you’re home in bed but you leave it at that—there’s far too much to report and you don’t have the energy right now, and you don’t want to interrupt her date with the news that you and Dennis are officially together because you know she will ditch Mr. Hipster in a second to hear everything. You turn on the TV and put on Beachfront Bargain Hunt but you’re not really paying attention, because it’s the time of night when you’re alone with your thoughts and all the bad ones try to creep in and wreak havoc.

You find yourself wondering if you’re strong enough for Dennis, if you have what it takes to help him, and you end up Googling “how to help partner who has ben abused in previous relationships.” It annoys you a little that most of the articles are written from the perspective of a man helping a woman, although you know that the percentage of women who are abused is significantly higher so it makes sense, but still—you can’t find anything that is specific to Dennis’s situation and it bothers you. But you read a few of the articles anyway, just changing the pronouns in your head, because the same general principles apply.

A lot of it you’d heard straight from Dennis—things that he learned in therapy—and what it all boils down to is what you already know: you need to be a safe space for him. And you can do that, you think, but the one question that keeps popping into your head is a selfish one: what about me? Because you’ve been in a relationship where the other person always came first—what he wanted, what he needed—and that didn’t turn out very well and you promised yourself never again. You know in your heart it’s not the same thing and you hate yourself for even thinking it, but you wonder how there will be room for your wounds to heal if you’re busy taking care of Dennis.

But you push that thought out of your head because it’s stupid and it’s selfish and you already know that Dennis would do anything for you. You need to look at this differently, to remember that healthy relationships aren’t one-sided with one person as the giver and the other the taker. You can be there for Dennis and he can be there for you. You can help each other. You can both heal.

PART EIGHT >>>