#I will sit down and learn how to draw pretty girls one of these days I swear

[omaano]

If you're still taking requests on the polyam drawing thing, D2 with Padme/Rex/Anakin?? (with Rex in the middle getting smoochies 😚🙏💖)

If you're not, then just thank you for sharing I'm enjoying seeing the cute poly/platonic art! 😊

Changed to E3 for a pose, and I’d turned it super self indulgent (pretty purple background for me yay!☺️) I hope you will like it too! Thanks for asking!💕

I really like this look for Padme (mostly because of her beautiful hair), and I also wanted to deck Rex out in something pretty too. It’s a nice pink tinted dream :3

Polyam/platonic poses for these sketches

[gguk-n]

The Exception (Max Verstappen x Reader)

Summary- 4 times Max let y/n get away with whatever she wanted and 1 time he didn't.

I just have so much love for maxie and I wanna show it so it came out as this. Hope you like it!! I hope maxie is only loved tbh

Max was very young when he had moved to a Netherland. If someone asked him when it was, he'd probably never be able to tell. But he could tell you about the annoying neighbours he had growing up. Yes, he did spend most of his time karting and didn't have the time at home or in school like normal kids his age would but the fleeting moments spent at that house in Netherland left behind fond memories that he can look back and only because of a certain little girl with chubby cheeks and two identical braids on either side of her head who had made quite a place in his life. Jos wasn't very happy with Max wasting his time entertaining those kids but he couldn't do much when the children's father was a tall bulky man who could take Jos out in one punch, insisted on letting the kids play together. The tall man had 3 kids Max noticed when he had dinner at their place for the first time; the oldest being the girl who we mentioned before followed by 2 younger brothers who seemed to love karting. They asked Max so many questions about it that they got scolded by their mother for ruining dinner for everyone but Max thought was cute because the youngest couldn't even pronounce karting but had a lot to say. Every time he would spend time with his neighbours, it would always be with the 2 young boys who wanted to learn how to kart better and become like Max like the younger one put it. Even now it makes Max laugh reminiscing about those days. They never really made it professionally though.

2008

Max and the 2 boys were playing around when their older sister asked if they would like to join her for a session of afternoon tea with Mr Whale and Miss Teapot. The brothers made a face of disgust and ran away from her, dejected she turned around when Max agreed. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She quickly dragged him into her room and had him sit next to Mr Longneck, the giraffe. An hour later Max was found in Y/N's room with two pigtails if you could call them that on the top of his head, a tiara and the prettiest necklace Y/N owned. Looking at himself in the mirror he couldn't help but laugh. Y/N on the contrary looked pleased with her handy work. She thanked him for being a good and compliant customer and to come back again if he ever wanted to look pretty. It wasn't easy to get Max to do what you wanted except he couldn't say no to her puppy eyes. She even gave him a drawing of him in his kart saying that it would bring him good luck since she couldn't be there and placed her favourite bracelet on his hand.

If Y/N was to ask him about the bracelet, Max would say he lost it as soon as she gave it to him, but deep down in the watch drawer of Max's Monaco apartment sat a brightly neon pink bracelet with Y/N’s initials.

2014

Y/N had started highschool and remained the annoying self Max had come to love. Her over the top demeanor and affection to screaming at the top of her lungs whenever she spotted Max never failed to make him smile. Having joined Formula one this year, meant Max was way to busy to be home but Y/N seemed to never forget to text him regularly. She would ask him to get autographs of other drivers or souvenirs from different countries. It was a regular race weekend when Y/N texted Max asking him to explain how the engine in a go kart worked. In a split second Max was on call with her asking "why she needed that?" to which she replied "I'm doing a project on that. I even made a small scale replica of your cart Look here!!!" She exclaimed. "I just need to shrink you and place you inside it" Y/N laughed. Max told her not to worry and that he would text her the details in a hour or so. Actually it took a couple hours and Y/N was starting to get agitated and called him back. Max replied with a almost done and smiled at her. He had literally written her entire report for her and sent it to review. Y/N almost screamed when she saw the assignment. She thanked Maxie for doing this for her and that she owed him her life. Max was just happy to be of help, he told himself more than he told her because who stays up till 5 in the morning on a race weekend doing someone else’s project.

He kept the small scale replica of his Kart on the mantle above the fireplace if anyone wanted to know what happened to the kart.

2018

Y/N was freshly 18, so getting drunk was the only thing on her agenda. On a night out, she was so drunk that no one could get her to move because she wanted her Maxie and would only leave with Maxie, she enunciated. Her friend was able to open up Y/N phone and thankfully find a Maxie in her favourite contacts. She called the number to be met with a groggy but worried voice. "Hi! This is Y/N's friend Kate speaking. Am I speaking with a....maxie?" she said tentatively. Max let out a sign while rubbing his eyes, "Yes, this is Max speaking." "Can you come pick Y/N up?" She asked hesitantly followed by, "She won't leave with anyone but you apparently." Max was already out of bed and near the door when he said "I'll be there in 10, where are you guys at?" She sent him the location and waited for 'maxie'. Nothing could've prepared them for this. They had thought Maxie was a friend, a boyfriend maybe even a neighbour; they did not think Maxie was Max Verstappen, F1 driver for Redbull racing. He apologised for the inconvenience and crouched down to Y/N level who seemed to have realised that he was here. She cupped his cheeks and giggled while turning his head to the crowd of people standing, "Look, this is my Maxie." Hearing Y/N say my maxie made his heart beat faster then it should've, he admits but that girl had a tight hold on his heart and he couldn't really do much about it. She stood up and wrapped her arms around Max asking him to carry her since her legs felt like mush. Max gladly carried her back to his car, as he fastened her seat belt she asked him to take her back to his place since her parents would probably disown her if she come in drunk for the 6th time this week. Max looked shocked and asked her to stop drinking so much since it wasn't good for her. All Y/N could mumble was that the alcohol made the pain in her heart bearable. This broke Max's heart. Who would dare hurt his precious little angel, if he met that guy he was so dead, Max thought. Little did he know that guy was the one driving her back home.

Y/N was a nuisance when drunk, she reminded him of the little girl he had befriended when he moved here. She wouldn't listen to anything he asked her to do that night until he agreed to let her do make up on him which he would gladly agree to, real or not.

2022

Y/N had recently graduated and was looking for a place to stay. It was one of those nights after a fruitless apartment hunt Y/N facetimed Max. He looked very comfortable in his sim racing chair in his luxurious apartment in Monaco having moved recently. "Maxie" the younger girl sighed. "Meisje, what's the problem?" came a concerned voice. "I can't seem to find a decent apartment, I've been at it for months now." she said. Max offered to help her find the right place and Y/N started listing out all the things she wanted in her apartment which was sounding a lot like Max current apartment which was true, that was Y/N's dream apartment currently; after seeing it a couple months ago when she had visited him as a housewarming surprise and even held a party for him. "You can move to Monaco, the house you're looking for is here" Max said. After a long pause Y/N replied with a chuckle, "I don't make formula 1 money. I'm too broke to afford a house here. In Monaco, I'd have to sell my organs to afford a place there." As if it was the most obvious thing, Max offered her to stay at his place and look for a job here.

The allure of Monaco was too much and Y/N was able to thankfully find a job there so that she wouldn't be completely dependent on Max which he wouldn't have minded. Max never let her pay rent, he'd always tell her to cook good food and that was rent sorted.

2023

It was the night of the Abu Dhabi grand prix. Max had just won his third WDC so him and his friends decided to go out to celebrate, Y/N included. The night carried on as usual, Max not touching much of the alcohol since Y/N decided to down drinks like a thirsty person. She was now in the middle of the dance floor making herself familiar with Lando's crotch, much to Max's dismay. He made his way to her and led her away from Lando while she shouted at him to let her go. They were now stood in the quieter part of the club but you could still hear the music blasting. Y/N looked visibly annoyed at being taken away from the dance floor. "You are drunk, you'll regret it tomorrow." Max said. "That's for sober me to deal with. Drunk me just wants to forget about everything and having an eventful night with a guy would do just the trick." she said. Max winced at the words and held her arms so that she could steady herself. "I don't wanna feel like this," was this the alcohol giving her the confidence, "the guy I've been in love with for ages can't seem to see me as a woman. I've been trying for years now. If I walked out naked, I'm sure he wouldn't even be phased." she sounded dejected. "Any guy would want you, Meisje." Max whispered. "But not the one I do" she stepped closer, enough that their breaths mingled. The woman in front of him was driving Max mad, had she not been drunk he would've shown her how much any man would want her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes before saying, "He's so dumb, can't even see the woman in front of him." The statement felt oddly targeted. "You know, he's a 3 time world drivers champion and he doesn't even get that I love him so much." she said while looking into his eyes. "You're in love with me?" Max exclaimed. "I have been since the day you let me make pigtails on your hair but thanks for realising now." she replied sarcastically. "You're drunk, you don't know what your saying" Max replied. "Well, sober me would never tell you this but I love you Max Verstappen. So much that you make my heart beat faster and my chest swell when you look at me. I think about marrying you and having a family with you, but you think I'm joking." she declared. Max couldn't help but smiled, "Tell me all of this in the morning when you're sober so that I can tell you that I love you too schat and then I can finally kiss you." "You can kiss me now" Y/N made a kissy face and eagerly leaned in. Max shook his head and carried her back to the hotel room.

Y/N indeed remembered everything and the first thing she did even though she wreaked of alcohol was finally kiss those soft pink lips.

this is just brain rot at this point. hope you liked it

[tasteleeknow]

LIVING IN THE RUINS

minho x fem!reader. 2k words. minors dni. best friends to lovers. soft!minho. angst. fluff. jealousy. emotional hurt/comfort. smut with feelings, in a tent.

“Excuse me?”

You blink at the stranger in front of you. She seems to materialise before your eyes. You’d zoned out again and missed the attention your best friend had clearly been receiving from strangers in the crowded room. “I was wondering if I could get your number?” she asks, eyes fixed on Minho’s. She blinks quickly a few times, her long dark lashes fluttering much like your heart in your chest. 

She hasn’t looked at you once despite your close proximity. You’re so close to the object of her attention in fact, your thigh brushes against Minho’s jeans under the table. 

He shifts beside you, sitting up straighter in the booth. “Oh,” he says, clearly taken off guard as well. “Thank you. I mean that’s — I don’t—” 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks with a small tilt of her head. 

“No,” Minho answers quickly, incapable of lying. His discomfort radiates off him. You’d spent years learning his emotional tells. “I mean—” 

“He’s not into women,” you interrupt, finally drawing her attention to you. She blinks before her eyes drop down to your chest and back to your eyes, like she’s completely taken aback by your presence. It’s impossible, you know that logically. Still, she puts on a good performance. “Sorry,” you add. 

Her lips curve into an unconvincing smile. “No worries,” she says. “The hot ones never are.” 

The whole exchange is as short as it is ordinary. How many tipsy girls work up the courage to ask the pretty man across the bar for his number? You would bet money on it happening multiple times over somewhere across the planet at any given moment. It’s normal. Mundane. Still, you know it’ll chip a little more of your carefully built wall away. A chisel to stone, slow and steady. The only problem is that it’s been chipped at for years. You can feel the fragility of it these days, each chisel etch feels alot like when you’re down to the end of a game of jenga. 

Any move now will cause it to crash and fall. 

She hadn’t considered for a moment you might have been together — not when she’d spotted him across the room, clearly with you — and not when she’d gotten close and blatantly ignored your comfortable proximity to each other. Her question about his relationship status had been an afterthought, a possibility she hadn’t considered until faced with a response other than ‘yes’. She’d been expecting a yes.

The thought that he might be with you, might be attracted to you, was unconsidered. You wonder if she’d discussed it with her friends. ‘No,’ they might have said. ‘There’s no way he’s with her.’

Minho is quiet as the petite brunette turns on her heels and disappears back into the mass of people. His red ears give his embarrassment away. 

You nudge his shoulder, rocking him out of his trance. “Hey,” you prod. “Alright?” 

The smile he offers you is a little lopsided — very Minho. “Always,” he says. 

—

Your annual camping trip is just like the year before. Your small group of friends sets up camp in your usual spot. Everyone climbs into their usual tents. Everyone assumes you and Minho will be sharing, as always. 

You’re not sure why it hurts so much. They assume that nothing would ever happen between you. None of the other girls share a tent with a guy they aren’t dating. You’re the exception. Because Minho would never want you. 

He notices your low mood later that night. The group separates in the dark to play flashlight tag and as you find yourself wandering a secluded patch of the campsite, you know he knows. His attention is on you instead of where he’s walking. You almost scream when he falls into apparent nothingness. 

“I’m fine,” he quickly reassures you, pulling himself up from the ground. “Just dropped my glasses.” 

“God, you scared me.” 

It takes you both at least ten minutes to find them, relying purely on touch alone. It's too dark to see much at all without a light and using your phones would give your position away. 

You’re grateful for the darkness when you reach up and place his frames gently on his face. It hides the heat in your cheeks when you brush chocolate brown hair behind his ears, ensuring you’ve placed them properly. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, close enough that his breath warms your lips. 

You’re also grateful just to be near him, you realise. Just to know him. You love him. 

You love him. 

It’s an earth shattering realisation to have while playing flashlight tag in the middle of nowhere. You need to escape. You can’t. You’re sharing a tent with him. 

The situation isn’t helped when later in the night one of the girls with big bright eyes and a gentle smile makes a very clear move on him. You were used to it. People loved him. 

You loved him. 

It’s a stupid thing to cause the wall to finally crumble. It’s humiliating really. But when he laughs at something she whispers in his ear: it happens. 

It falls. 

You’re pathetic without it. 

All you can do is hide from him, escape to the tent and pretend to be so tired you’ve fallen asleep before he can investigate. It’s not something you do. Not with Minho. He knows you so well hiding from him is just as stupid as it is pathetic. He’ll know. 

Still, you can pretend. He won’t know as long as you’re unconscious. You can put it off until morning. 

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep. You lie there staring at the canvas of the tent for what feels like hours, the sounds of him tossing and turning continuing for so long you almost give up. 

But then he’s still. His breathing seems to even out. He’s asleep. 

That’s when you let yourself cry. Quietly at first; silent aching sobs. 

What a time for the wall to crumble. You wonder if you have the energy to rebuild. You’ll have to find it. The alternative is letting Minho go entirely, removing him from your life and letting the ruins erode away over a long, long time. 

Not an option. 

“Hey,” Minho’s soft voice calls. Shit. You wipe clumsily at your eyes and sodden cheeks. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” he questions as his palm rests gently against your shoulder. 

You should face him. You can’t hide. You know it. 

“No-thing,” you whimper, breath catching between each syllable. It’s that awful breathless kind of sobbing, the type that leaves you unable to inhale fully, let alone speak. 

He rolls you over onto your back. He isn’t rough — but it’s with enough strength you’re completely unable to resist him. 

“What is it?” he says again, tone much more forceful now. He isn’t letting it go. He looks down at you with wide eyes, like he’d never been asleep at all. 

You shake your head. 

His gentle thumbs move to your cheeks to attempt to wipe away the mess you’d left behind. He rests on one arm, leaning over you so he can give each cheek the same treatment. It’s a curious instinct, to wipe away someone's tears — like it has any effect on the person’s pain at all. It’s the best we can often do, you suppose. 

“Just focus on breathing,” he says. “Just breathe.” His hand stays against your cheek, fingers resting on your neck by your ear — featherlight. 

Breathing is easy, in theory. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. His lips part to join you, guide you. His lips are still a little red from his bedtime routine, his tinted vaseline usually lasting him the entire night. 

“That’s it,” he soothes when you finally manage a few steady breaths in a row. “That’s good. You’re okay.” 

They’re simple words of comfort. The kind of thing anyone would say to a person in distress, but they settle something in your chest. You were okay. He was yours in a way that was more than nothing. He cared in a way that felt so genuine it was hard to be dissatisfied with the nature of it at all. 

“Did something happen today?” he asks, still leaning over you. It’s a vulnerable position to be in. It mirrors how you know this conversation will go. Your wall is a crumbled mess. You have no defences against him. 

“Not really.” 

His eyebrows pull together. 

“Nothing worth this,” you clarify. 

“Tell me.” 

“It’s not… It’s embarrassing.” 

His lips curve in a tiny lopsided smile, just a hint of amusement. “Friends are for sharing embarrassing things with. And I’m your friend,” he says. “Aren’t I?” 

You blink quickly a few times, desperate to keep your tears at bay. Then you nod weakly. 

“Why do you look so miserable about it?” he says, tone light and teasing. 

Your lips wobble a little as you struggle with the words attempting to burst forth. They pound and burn and demand to be set free. You lose the battle. “I love you.” 

He blinks, eyes flicking across your face. 

The gates are open now. You’re turned loose. “I love you so much,” you sob. “It hurts. It hurts everyday and it just keeps getting worse and I can’t—” 

His lips cut you off, a warm, heart-stopping, and very much welcome interruption. He’s kissing you. He’s—

“Stop,” he mumbles against your wet, salty lips. “Stop hurting. Please.” His next kiss is unbearably soft, a brush against your upper lip. “Please,” he whispers. 

You nod dumbly.

He rewards you with a collection of gentle kisses across your cheeks, replacing the remnants of your tears with the sticky wetness of his moisturised lips. You imagine the slight red marks he must leave behind. 

He settles over you properly at some point. You’re too distracted by the path of his lips to notice exactly when. But then his arms are by your head, caging you under him in a way that makes you hope for the universe to halt all progression forward. This was enough; everything. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips finally. “I’m… sorry for letting you think I don’t. I’m a coward.” 

“No,” you chastise quickly as you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Don’t say shit like that.” 

“I—” 

“It hurts me… and you told me to stop hurting.” 

His head drops to your neck… then, with a soft press of his lips to your skin, “Then I’ll never do it again.” 

Every move he makes is gentle when the slow, indulgent kisses turn into exploring hands and whispered pleas for more. Each of his whisper-soft words of affection sweeps away a crumbled section of your wall, clearing the space to build something entirely new. He’s warm, so warm as his bare torso rests on yours — as he finally presses inside you and sucks a mark into your neck to join the rest he’s left. “Doesn’t hurt?” he asks, stilling as he fills you completely. 

“No,” you gasp. “No, you’re… it’s—” His lips take the words from your mouth, a little messier than he’s been before. When his hips roll into yours you can’t help grasping at him like he might suddenly get up and leave — fingers tangling in his hair desperately.

“I got you,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy breaths mingling with your own. “I got you…” 

When he eventually spills inside you, flooding you with more of his warmth, you’re crying again. But this time it doesn’t hurt; this time it’s a release. The tears that he kisses from your face afterwards — they wash away the rest of the rubble.

[moonstruckme]

im literally in lovee with your writing of sirius black id love love love more of him x reader pleasee [my favourite is friends to lovers or just being super domestic but tbh I'd read anything u write with him in lmaoo]

Thank you for requesting lovely! It worked out that I'd just written this when I got your ask, so I hope it fits what you're wanting!

cw: reader has hair long enough to tie back

Sirius Black x whimsical!reader ♡ 833 words

Sirius finds you out behind Remus’ house, sitting in the grass and, by all appearances, playing with mud. 

“Hey there,” he says, “did you manage to find the bathroom?” 

You have a tendency to wander off. Sometimes it’s intentional, sometimes you get lost, and Sirius can never tell which is happening at any given time. As much as he’d like to tie a string between you so you’re never very far, he’s learned to let you go where you will; you always end up where you want to be anyways. 

“You were talking about football,” you say by way of answer, the slightest hint of sheepishness in your sweet voice. “I thought you wouldn’t mind if I went off for a bit.” 

Sirius hums and lowers himself onto the grass beside you, stretching his legs out. The sun is warm and welcome on his face, just enough breeze to keep it from getting too hot. 

It’s a beautiful day, you’d noted upon waking up this morning, already opening the windows in his bedroom. 

Looks like it, Sirius said from bed. He smiled wryly. It’ll probably be the last decent one we have all year.

You’d frowned. That’s not a very nice way to manifest the weather. 

While Sirius is upturned, you’re bent over, messing with something in your hands and dipping your fingers occasionally into a pail of water. 

“What’ve you got there, pretty girl?” 

“A mug,” you say simply. You thumb concentratedly at the slimy thing in your hands, lips pursing. “Or, a soon-to-be-mug.” 

“And you’re making it out of…mud?” 

“No,” you laugh, looking up at your boyfriend in that fond, indulgent way you have. Like he can be so silly sometimes. “Remember how Remus said there was clay by the stream back that way? I’m using some of that.” 

“Ah.” Sirius tilts his head, studying the misshapen lump in your hands. “I see. And this is going to be a drinking mug?” 

You hum in affirmation, and he leaves it at that. He’s not terribly sure whatever you end up with will be able to hold water, but he knows better than to try and dissuade you once you’ve set your mind to something. Maybe he can sign the both of you up for a pottery class sometime. 

A piece of hair falls from behind your ear, and you blow at it, trying to keep it out of your face with your hands occupied.

“Here,” Sirius offers. He takes an elastic off his wrist, gathering the hair away from your face and tying it back loosely the way you like it. 

You gift him a sideways smile in return. A bit of dried clay on your cheek cracks with the movement. Evidently, this isn’t the first time you’ve had to push your hair back. “Thank you.” 

“Baby,” he says, voice laden with fondness. He steadies your face with one hand, swiping at the clay with the other. “You’ve got it all over you.” 

It’s true. It covers your hands up past your wrists, and several places on your legs have pale gray tracks where you’ve wiped your fingers off on them. 

“It’s a messy business,” you say matter-of-factly, “but it dries sort of pretty, I think. Do you want some?” 

He cocks an eyebrow. “How do you mean?” 

You set your soon-to-be-mug down gingerly, extending a hand to him. “Give me your arm.” 

Sirius suppresses a sigh. He didn’t really plan on getting dirty today, but he’s hardly in the habit of denying you anything you ask for. He sets his forearm in your hand. 

You dip a finger into the wettest part of your clay, setting it to the skin above his wrist. Your touch is cool and slick on his sun-warmed skin. You draw a little star like you’re fingerpainting, the clay a funny contrast to the dark tattoos surrounding it. 

You look so pleased with your work that Sirius can’t help himself. He leans forward, giving you a drawn-out, amorous kiss. 

“Thank you,” he says in his most saccharine voice. 

Your lashes flutter prettily as you blink, a rare shy smile taking you. “You’re welcome.” 

Sirius dips two fingers into your pail of water, using them to wipe the remaining clay off your cheek more thoroughly. When he’s done, he spots another smudge on your shoulder, inexplicable. He tsks. “When you’re done with your mug, we might have to ask Remus if you can use his shower, lovely girl. You really do have it all over you.” 

“Oh, there’s no need to trouble him,” you say airily. “The stream’s not very far, and it’s flowing rather quickly with all the rain we’ve been having.” 

He blinks. “Did you bring your swimsuit?”

You look at him bemusedly. “No. Why?” 

Sirius bends his head, letting his hair fall like a curtain to conceal his smile as he kisses the clean part of your shoulder. “I think it’d be better if you used Remus’ shower, sweetheart. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

[willowser]

noooo, because you're sitting with touya's daughter one day after school, coloring in your classroom to pass the time since he called earlier to tell you he was running a teeny bit late, and out of the blue she says,

"my dad calls you my pretty teacher."

and — you've met him a few times, enough to no longer be intimidated by the aura he wears so well, with the tattoos down his arms and up his neck, the piercings in both ears and each nostril. you learned very quickly that he's a softie, under the exterior, especially for the little girl sitting across from you.

you feel your cheeks warm, but you try not to draw attention to it. "oh, does he now?"

"yeah," she says simply, scratching at her chin before picking out another color for the box between you. "he also asked me if there was a mr. pretty teacher, but i told him i didn't think so because nobody brings you flowers ever."

and — your cheeks heat again, but now because you can't believe the little kids in your class have noticed how single you are. you're a bit stumped on what to say to that, especially when the room door swings open and touya is stepping in, a little out of breath, a red-haired boy sitting on his shoulders,

— with a very small, ribbon-tied bouquet of sunflowers in his tiny hands.

[bigskyandthecoldgun]

based on this

steve's pov | dragon's pov

Her Dad has always been very lonely.

Even from when he’d found her in that horrible, dirty bush back when she’d been but a kitten, the bright, comforting smile on his face had been tinged with a sort of sadness so deep it made her mewl with sympathy, digging her scraggly little paws into his shirt as he’d picked her up, using the last of her strength to nuzzle into his chest. Dad had stayed sad in the strange, clean room with the person in the white coat as they had explained something to him, casting glances down at her as she’d struggled to hold herself up on shaky legs on the metal surface they’d placed her on.

Her fur had been cleaned, she’d been poked at and prodded and felt a whole lot better, and when Dad had taken her into the big house and placed her gently on the bed, telling her tales about someone named Nancy and her wit and her pretty face, and someone named Jonathan and his ability to keep up with the Nancy and make her happy, and how Dad was glad to have someone to talk to about all of it, that smile was back. The sad one. She hadn’t been given a name yet, but her Dad had given her care she hadn’t ever known, food and medicine and affection, and she loved him for it.

The Nancy and the Jonathan, whoever they are, are determinedly not loved by her, she’d decided that night, curled up on her Dad's chest as sleep overtook her.

The day after, the small boy, who she affectionately calls Curly in the privacy of her own mind while Dad calls him the Dustin, comes over and gets far too close to her. She panics and swats at his nose—claws sheathed, because he is smaller than Dad, and he isn’t the Nancy or the Jonathan—and he shrieks, a delighted smile on his face that isn’t tinged with loneliness like her Dad's. She hisses at him from the comfort of Dad's shoulder, a little raspy, and Curly makes a face.

“Her breath should be considered a weapon,” he tells Dad, and then a look of even more delight crosses Curly’s face. “Oh! You should name her Dragon! Fierce little monster with a breath weapon, it makes so much sense, Steve!”

Curly goes on rambling until Dad finally cuts him off. “Okay! Fine, her name’s Dragon,” he relents. “Happy?”

Dragon is okay with that name, if only because Dad's smile is not as sad when he tries to hide it from Curly as the boy whoops.

She grows big and strong, broad and intimidating, and Dad tells her every day how soft and shiny her fur is, how she’s such a sweet girl, how he thinks it’s funny when she roars at trespassers in their home. And, of course, the trespassers are many in number and often come into their home with little protesting from Dad, much to Dragon’s dismay. She loves her Dad and only her Dad. She likes the rest well enough, sure, but Dad is special.

Dragon spends the majority of her time practically attached to Dad. He gives her many pets and lets her sit atop his shoulders or his chest or his lap, always ready to guard him from the hands of other people. Dad is her human, not theirs. Even as they try to win her favor with treats and pets, Dragon turns her nose up at them with a hiss, her hackles raised. She needs not the fleeting affections of the smaller humans, or even the Nancy or the Jonathan, who she meets for the first time when they show up on her Dad's doorstep, telling him how they’re here to take the smaller ones away.

“Hi, Steve,” the girl says, and Dragon clambers her way up to her Dad's shoulders, making herself as large and imposing as possible. “Jonathan and I are here to take the boys home.”

Her Dad radiates sadness. Loneliness. The girl must be the Nancy.

“Aw, who’s this?” the boy—he must be the Jonathan—asks, reaching up towards Dragon, which is a definite no-no. He needs to learn. Dragon hisses in warning before swatting his hand, claws out, because Dad smells so dreadfully of loneliness that it makes Dragon’s heart ache. The Jonathan draws his hand back with a wince. Dragon purrs. “Ow.”

“Shit, sorry, I should’ve warned you,” Dad says, and Dragon feels indignant at the fact the Nancy and the Jonathan have made him feel as though he needs to apologize. “Dragon’s not exactly friendly.”

Dragon begs to differ. She’s plenty cordial with the children. She doesn’t even take her claws out to swat their hands away when they try to pet her. Petting her is Dad's job, not theirs. “That’s okay,” the Nancy says. She looks at Dragon and smiles. Dragon’s ears flatten against her head as she hisses again, and the Nancy’s smile falters. “Uh, sorry, Dragon. Are they ready to go?”

She aims the question at Dad, who nods and steps aside to let the parade of small ones out of the house. “See you guys around,” Dad says as he shuts the door, and he scoops Dragon from his shoulders, holding her out and up at arms’ length as he clicks his tongue and shakes his head fondly. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Dragon mewls. You’re welcome, Dad.

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t like people, I get it,” Dad sighs, tucking her against his chest.

She nuzzles at his jaw and meows again. I like people well enough. I just don’t like the Nancy and the Jonathan. They make you smile bad.

“I’m really the only person you can handle, huh?” Dad muses, scratching behind Dragon’s ears in the best of ways. Dragon purrs, making biscuits against his shoulder. “Little beast. Tiny baby creature. You’re the best.”

Dragon is neither tiny nor a baby anymore, but Dad seems intent on calling her his baby, which she doesn’t mind. She gives him a quiet mrrp and nudges him again. Make friends that make you smile good.

“You’re gonna have to learn how to deal with people sooner or later, Draggy. I think I wanna start dating again,” her Dad says.

She comes to learn that ‘dating’ means bringing strangers into their house and closing the door to the den. Dragon makes her protests very known, yowling and scratching at the door when strange noises start up behind it, hissing and swatting and biting at the strangers when they get too close to her, and getting between Dad and the trespassers at every opportunity. None of the strangers make his smile any less lonely. If anything, they only serve to make it worse, and none of them seem to realize it.

The only person that Dragon comes to really like is the Robin, who she likes to call Dots, because of all the little dots on her face. Dots never tries to push her into letting her pet her, keeps her hands to herself with Dad, and makes Dad's smile a lot less lonely. “She’s so sweet,” Dots says one day as Dragon sprawls herself out on Dad's lap, belly exposed for him to rub at with his blunt nails, just the way she likes. “Do you think she’d let me pet her?”

“Dragon doesn’t really let people pet her,” Dad says, and Dragon lets out a little mew of agreement. For some reason, it makes Dots and Dad laugh. “I mean, you can try, but it’s kind of a miracle she tolerates you enough to let you sit next to me.”

“I don’t wanna bother her,” Dots says, and Dragon promptly decides that she’s her favorite of all the strange people her Dad brings to the house.

Human litters are strange, Dragon has discovered. She can only assume that the humans, too stupid to name themselves, have roles that correspond to the strange words they call themselves, the same across the board. Each litter must have the Steve—her Dad's title among the group—who clearly leads the rest of them, the Dustin, who is the Steve’s apprentice, the Erica, who is second in command, the Mike, who is in charge of scowling, the Lucas, who is the Max’s companion and the one in charge of games with orange balls, the Max, who is the Lucas’ companion and the one who makes funny comments, the Will, who is in charge of breaking up arguments, and the El, who is the superhero. The Robin, of course, is in charge of being the Steve’s best friend. The Jonathan and the Nancy are still of little concern to Dragon, but she has determined they are in charge of moving the children in and out of the house. Again, totally unimportant.

The El and the Will don’t come around much anymore, and Dad says that this is because they are in California. Dragon doesn’t know what California is, but it’s a long word, which she usually only hears in reference to sicknesses. Dragon hopes the El and the Will get better soon. The Jonathan has also stopped coming around, and it’s curious that this development seems to make the Nancy’s smile just a bit like Dad's now.

Dragon had been entirely unaware that a human litter needs an Eddie until one comes barreling in one afternoon in the cold months, throwing his things unceremoniously onto the couch in the TV room and shouting Dad's title into the house. Dad is not home yet. He is off with Dots at what he calls ‘work.’ Dragon postures herself as big and scary as possible, ears flat against her head as the tall man with dark hair and clothes and dangly metal walks down the hallway, towards the kitchen. And—the audacity astounds her—he starts poking around in the cabinets, making himself a meal! How rude!

Dragon yowls, low and throaty, posted up in the doorway to corner him. “Oh, shit, Steve has a cat?” the man asks, crouching down but making no move to coax her closer. “Hey, buddy, what’s your name?”

Dragon blinks at him and meows. You’re a stranger in my home. Why would I tell you?

“Ah. Mrawr. Lovely name,” the man says, nodding. He purses his lips and an airy noise comes from him, kind of like that metal thing Dad uses on the stove every now and then. “You are huge. Not that that’s a bad thing. You’re very pretty.”

Preening a little, Dragon lets out a little mrrp of gratitude. Yes, I’m very pretty. My Dad takes such good care of me. Now, go away.

The door opens again. Aha! Finally, Dad is home, and they will be rid of this intruder, the stranger who hadn’t been told about Dragon, so he must be lost, he must be looking for a different human litter’s Steve. He isn’t scowling, so he must not be a Mike or a Max. His hair is curly, so perhaps he’s a Dustin? He is looking for a Steve, after all. Or perhaps he is a Robin, by that logic.

“Eddie! Hey! What’s up, man?” Dad asks, and—

Oh, his smile is so bright and finally free of the loneliness that plagues it.

Dragon has only ever seen him smile like that once before, when Dots and Curly had been at the house, the three of them playing some kind of game with the Erica. She needs to keep that version of Dad's smile around. It’s the best one, and far too rare. The rest of Dad's litter smiles like that all the time, and it wouldn’t do if Dad continues to only show that wonderful smile on special occasions. She dutifully steps aside as Dad moves into the kitchen.

This Eddie is the key, Dragon realizes. The key to making her Dad not so lonely anymore.

Dad and the Eddie embrace. Dragon has never seen Dad as relaxed as he is in the Eddie’s hold, save for when he’s asleep and Dragon is guarding his slumbering form. “Good to see you, dude,” the Eddie says. “You got any coffee?”

“You and your coffee,” Dad says, shaking his head as he pulls back, going all around the kitchen in a routine Dragon’s only seen in the mornings.

As her Dad and the Eddie—Dragon decides to call him Ink after one of Dad's comments about the strange black shapes on the Eddie’s arms—talk idly and sip at their coffees, Dragon observes. Dad has never seemed so at ease, so happy. There isn’t a trace of the loneliness anymore, not a single sad crease in his forehead. Ink even makes him laugh. So much, too! And Dad looks at Ink like he’d looked at the Nancy that first time she’d showed up on their doorstep. Wanting. Wistful.

Dragon makes a decision.

She will make sure Ink and Dad are never separated. She will convince Ink to spend more time with her Dad. She will keep her Dad happy. Her Dad will never be lonely again, not if Dragon has anything to say about it.

After a while of talking, Ink nods down at her. “You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you how cool your cat is,” he says. Dragon takes that as her cue to get up on her Dad's shoulders. She shudders at the prospect, but if she lets Ink pet her the next time he tries, surely Dad will realize that he must stay with them. She gives her Dad a reassuring purr and nudges his cheek with her face, and Ink smiles. “Dragon. A fitting name for a majestic beast.”

“I don’t know why she’s so unfriendly,” Dad sighs, reaching up to scratch behind Dragon’s fluffy ears. Dragon purrs even harder. When Ink makes a strange noise and reaches up to join her Dad in scritching behind Dragon’s ears, her Dad takes a step back. No! That’s not the plan! “Woah, careful, man, don’t want you to get clawed.”

The big smile on Ink’s face gets smaller, but somehow feels more private. “Cats don’t really like me, anyway, I don’t mind a little scratch or two,” he says, stepping closer to offer his hand up for Dragon to sniff.

Dragon doesn’t even need to sniff him, though he smells strongly of outdoors. He’ll smell enough like Dad sooner or later. She just pushes her face against his knuckles. Pet me, you imbecile. Show Dad how you will love us.

She even keeps purring to drive the point home. “Holy shit, she doesn’t do that with anybody,” Dad says. Yes! He’s getting it!

They continue their conversation, and Dragon feels herself getting shifted into her Dad's arms, so she nuzzles against him. Dad is talking about things that don’t interest her, strangers and the like, so she meows pointedly and licks his face. Tell the Eddie he needs to stay. We don’t have one yet.

Finally, the conversation points to her in a favorable way. “Well, maybe you just have to find somebody she likes,” Ink says, scratching under her chin. She meows again and squints, tilting her chin up. She’s really going all out here. Dad better get her point. Ink makes a strange sort of sound. “Aw, see? She’s a sweet girl. I’m sure she’ll have a soft spot for someone other than yourself soon enough.”

“Draggy,” Dad coos in his play-voice, “will you please let Daddy get laid? Be all sweet and good instead of biting people’s ankles?”

Dragon doesn’t know what any of that means, but it clearly makes Ink horrified enough to drag the conversation elsewhere, which, again—annoying. Neither of them are getting her point, not even when Dad shifts her so that her tummy’s facing up and she lets Ink give her belly rubs. Belly rubs! Those are not given lightly, and Dad must realize it, because Ink comes over a lot more often after that.

She always makes sure Ink and Dad are sitting together, lets Ink pet her—and, admittedly, he’s pretty good at it—and watches to make sure Dad's smile never turns lonely. And it doesn’t, not with Ink around. Dragon changes nothing about how she interacts with other people, but she gets clingy to the Eddie, trying to show her Dad that he should be, too. Dad even lets the Eddie into the den, lets him lay on the pillows beside him as they talk and talk about things that Dragon doesn’t understand and doesn’t particularly care to.

But Ink is not close enough. On one memorable occasion, Dragon even paws at his arm until he gets the hint to scoot closer, and she thinks that if her Dad could purr, he would. Dad doesn’t get the hint, though, even still, because even though Dragon is pretty sure the Eddie of the human litter is supposed to provide love to the Steve, Dad doesn’t seem to realize he can. Dragon even lets Dots get in a scratch to her chin, just to show Dad that if even she can let other people in, so can he.

“You are killing me, you little menace,” Dad tells her one night when Ink isn’t in the room, but he’s still in the house. “Why do you like Eddie so much, huh? I mean, sure, he’s funny and he’s nice, but it’s not like you can understand what he says, you don’t speak English.”

Dragon meows indignantly at him from where she sits on his lap. I understand enough to know that this Eddie is the Eddie you should keep.

“Yeah, yeah, I see your point. Eddie is pretty great,” her Dad mutters.

Dragon yawns, because the little song and dance her Dad is doing about his silly feelings is exhausting, and starts making biscuits on his thighs, then purrs. He is. And you deserve that. You should not be lonely, and he makes you un-lonely.

“Okay, so he’s handsome, too, but I don’t see how that’s appealing for you, you’re a cat,” Dad huffs. Dragon watches him pause, then his face goes all pink, and he looks funny. “Well, that’s—it doesn’t appeal to me, either, I guess.”

Dragon gives him an inquisitive little mrrowp? in response. What does handsome mean? You should let him give you whatever pets for humans are.

Her Dad makes air push out of his mouth for a while. “Look, Draggy, you gotta find someone else you like. Eddie can’t be the only other person you can tolerate, it’s just not realistic,” he tells her. Rude. She tolerates everybody.

Dragon roars. The Eddie loves you, so I love him. What’s so hard to understand about this? You love him, too, if you would stop being obtuse about it.

Dad has the audacity to shush her, even if he does give her some pets. “Yeah, I know, and I like having him around, too—”

“Talking to your cat about me, Stevie?” Ink asks.

Dragon makes a whole big show of letting Ink give her tummy rubs, keeping her eyes on Dad the whole time. See? You could have this, too. Just be brave. But, unfortunately, Dad doesn’t get the hint, because while he puts Ink in clothes scented by him, Ink sleeps in one of the dens for guests rather than in Dad's den. Fine. If Dad won’t get the message, maybe his Eddie will.

She sits outside of the door to the guest den Ink sleeps in and yowls and cries until he comes out to pick her up and put her on Dad's bed. “Please tell your daughter to stop screaming at me,” he says, and Dragon gets dragged into her Dad's lap. The Eddie turns to leave, which is outrageous! All of that work, for what? Dragon lets out an indignant cry, and Ink turns back around. “Oh my God, what?!”

Dragon gives him a little chirp and trots to the edge of the bed, nosing at his hand. Sleep in here, Dad is so lonely when he sleeps.

“Draggy, let Eddie go to bed,” Dad protests. Dragon resists the temptation to tell him to stay out of it, because he is still her Dad and must be respected.

“Yes, Dragon, I need my beauty sleep,” Ink tells her, which is further infuriating, because Dad already thinks he’s pretty! He stares at Ink all the time! When the Eddie turns to leave again, Dragon yowls again and takes his hand into her mouth to try and drag him towards Dad. Ink looks to Dad, probably for guidance. The Steve is the leader, after all. “Does she want me to stay here?”

They exchange more words, which is a terrible bore, but Ink clambers into the bed, so Dragon is triumphant. They’re not close enough, though, not as close as the humans on the TV that make Dad sigh wistfully, so Dragon pushes against Ink’s back and doesn’t stop pushing until he scoots a little closer. Still, it’s not enough.

“She keeps pushing at my back,” the Eddie says. “Why is your cat so strong, dude?”

Dragon is so busy being pleased at the comment that she nearly misses what her Dad says in response. “I can take her out of the—”

She lets out a panicked screech, as loud as she can. No! You’ll never do this on your own! I have to help, so I have to be here until you figure it out!

Neither of them make any further threats to remove her, so she just keeps idly nudging at Ink’s back. After so much chatter, really, humans have got to be more direct with each other, the Eddie takes initiative, leaning close to her Dad's face. Finally, finally, they look the way the humans on TV do, and Dragon quietly makes her way off of the bed as the strange noises that usually mean she gets locked out of the room begin, meowing when there’s a pause.

I will stay out of your way, Ink. Please make him happy.

Dragon heads down the hall and curls up on the bed of the guest den, too tired from her matchmaking efforts to be kept up by the increase of noises from the room next door.

To be given her proper credit the next morning, she politely snatches up one of the shirts on the floor—the one that smells like Dad but the one Ink had been wearing—and waits for her Dad to see her up on the bed before swishing her tail smugly. When Ink sees, he cackles. Dragon can tell that he will live up to his title. The Eddie will make the Steve happy, just as he’s meant to.

Honestly, Dad should listen to her more often. Dragon has very good ideas.

[natsarrownecklacx]

Her Darling Girl

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 732

Summary: Soft Mommy Wanda who loves to take care of her girl in more ways then one.

Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI, serious thigh riding kink, mommy kink, praise kink, mutual masturbation. If I missed anything lmk.

A/n: Basically just a thought that turned into a sort of babble.

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

Wanda loves to buy you lingerie. In the last two years of your relationship the blond has bought you countless pairs.

She always says it’s because she wants to treat her “precious girl” to nice things and that she wants you to feel as pretty as she sees you to be.

But you know she just adores the sight of you in whatever lace piece she picks out for you. Loves watching you model the outfits that send her brain into overdrive.

You also know that Wanda uses the lace sets as an incentive for you to go along with her game. Wanda loves to make use of the house, giving you different places and things to “ride for mommy.” It’s an obsession of hers really, having you do it three plus times a day at least.

You’ve learned that her favorite things to make your grind on are the big teddy she got you for valentines last year, one of the extra stuffed pillows she keeps at the end of the bed and of course her thigh.

There’s just something in Wanda that seems to snap when she has you dragging yourself across her thigh, your moans and panted breaths being directed into her ear.

Sometimes, when she’s in the mood for a private show, she likes to sit back and watch you get yourself off on whatever object Wanda has deemed good enough that day.

She always looks so mesmerized when she watches you, as if she was seeing something magical.

Sometimes she even slips her hand into her pants or starts to grind down into her own chair. She just can’t help herself. Watching the way you get yourself off by her command, seeing how desperate you get, hearing you moan about how good it feels. It’s just something Wanda will never get tired of.

Sometimes she likes to guide you, with her hands on your hips, showing you how to grind down “to make it feel really good.”

You already know the best ways to move to make yourself feel good, but the nurturing and slightly condescending way she “teaches” you only makes it feel better.

Wanda also loves to praise you. You’ve learned that she loves how flustered you get when she calls you a “good girl” or tells you “you're doing so well for Mommy.” Sometimes you think she gets off on it as much as you do, considering how much she uses those words.

You distinctly remember a few weeks ago when Wanda came home feeling extra pent up. She’d walked in on you making dinner and immediately picked you up and put you on the counter, pulled down your pans and told you to grind down on the marble slab.

She didn’t care that you’d still had your panties on, or that you were in the middle of doing something, she knew you’d comply with her instructions.

Wanda sat in a chair she pulled opposite you and watched you do as she told, rolling your hips against the counter, your hands pressed firmly on either side of your body.

She was simply enjoying the show in front of her, feeling it sooth her frustrations, until you let out a needy moan calling for her. “Mommy, please.”

Wanda trailed her hand down to her pants, quickly slipping it inside and telling you to “be a good girl for mommy and keep rubbing yourself on the counter.”

She’d told you to keep your eyes on her as you did so, and you did. You watched as she fucked herself with her fingers, drawing herself closer and closer to the edge until she tipped her head back, moaning about how your “such a good girl for mommy” and to “keep going sweetheart.”

After that she’d brought you into the shower to get you both cleaned up. She’d had you standing in front of her so she could take care of “her darling girl.”

She’d washed your hair gently with shampoo and conditioner, taking care to mind any tangles and not hurt you. She also used a washcloth to clean you up, making sure you feel all fresh.

But of course seeing you bare in front of her light that fire in her again and she couldn’t help but pull you back into her and have you grind down on her thigh “just one more time for Mommy.”

ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ <3 ᗢ

In conclusion- Soft Mommy Wanda 😵‍💫😵‍💫

[fandoms-writings]

hii pretty girl, happy celebration! you deserve everyone who follows you <3 i’m here to request a few things for ur party! (i’ll space them out in asks hehe)

for the first one, may i pmease request a small little blurb with bucky and ‘keep your eyes on me’ from the smut category? it can be any bucky of yours, one dominating and possessive 😵‍💫

thanks baby! i almost got carried away with this one 😵‍💫 i might have to revisit these two in the future - i hope you like it darlin <3

Pairing: DBF!Bucky x college!reader

Word Count: 680

Warnings: Smut 18+ ONLY, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, slight exhibitionism

come celebrate with me! || part 2

He knew you shouldn't be here - that this was wrong. 

He was your fathers best friend. But when he met you at your graduation party two years ago, he was enamored. You'd just finished your degree, getting ready to specialize at another university and after some conversation, he learned it would be the one in his city. 

He'd helped you move, helped you get settled in your apartment - which was only a ten minute drive from his house. He told you that if you ever needed anything, that he'd be there for you. 

He didn't necessarily mean it like this, but he'd gladly spend the rest of his days between your legs if it meant he didn't have to see you cry anymore. 

Sure, you muttered about how you two shouldn’t be doing this, asking what you were going to do if your father found out. Bucky assured you he wouldn't, what he was doing to you - ruining you - would be your little secret, and you let him keep going. 

You didn't pull away, you didn't tell him to stop or to leave. If the words were to leave your lips, he'd be heart broken, but he'd go. 

If you told him to, he’d walk to the ends of the earth. He’d find the edge and jump, if you so asked. 

But you didn’t. 

You let him take you out when he ran into you at the mall, you were clearly upset about something and he wanted to make you feel better. He told you to dress up and you put on the sexiest dress you had, the one that left nothing to the imagination, and let him pick you up to take you to the nicest restaurant he could find. 

Bucky listened to how you'd been sort of dating a guy from one of your classes, but turns out he was just another asshole who stood you up and cheated on you. He'd wiped your tears with his thumbs, his hands cupping your cheeks as gently as he could. 

He gave you so much time to pull away, to stop him. 

But when he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours as gently as he could, you kissed him back. 

Now, here you two were, in the back of his car, your back pressed up against the door with his head between your legs, his tongue in your core. Your hands tugged on his hair and your eyes were shut as you moaned. 

He pulled his tongue from your folds to hover just over your cunt. Reaching up, he gripped your chin and squeezed your jaw, getting you to open your eyes. 

"Keep your eyes on me," he ordered, waiting for a nod to tell him you heard him before he latched on to your clit, drawing quick tight circles over it while slipping two fingers into your warmth and curling them. 

He never let go of your jaw and you followed his order, never once taking your eyes off his - except when he brought you over the edge. Your head flew back, hitting the window as your eyes shut and you screamed. 

He pulled his face away from your clit and slipped his fingers out of you, maneuvering you to lay over the center console into the front seat, your arms holding you up on the seats. Gripping your hips and lining himself up with your center, he slammed you down on to him and reached forward, threading his hand into your hair before pulling your head up. 

"You didn't keep your eyes on me," He muttered, holding terribly still, making you squirm. "So you're gonna sit here and warm my cock until I think you deserve to cum again. How's that sound?" 

"What - what if someone sees?" You asked,  your voice thin and worn out. You had a point, if someone were to walk by and glance in the front window, they'd have a front seat view to you getting fucked. But if anything, that spurred him on further. 

"Then I'll show them who you belong to."

[luna0713hunter]

kisses ""just follow my lead"" with shanks please

Author's note : sure thing darling! Enjoy!

"Follow my lead"

Based on this prompt

Shanks x reader

Warnings : slightly suggestive,pet names, reader referred to 'baby girl' and other pet names,age gap relationship

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

When you and Shanks finally got together after so so many years of mutual pinning,there was only one thing on your mind :

I have no idea how kissing works.

It was a simple thought, followed by nights and nights of overthinking and panicking, because;Shanks surely knew alot about kissing right?

And you, who've been hopelessly in love with him since you were young,had never,not even once kissed anyone in your whole damn life.

Now,you never regretted the decision;for you, it was always Shanks or nobody else.

You never regretted it,not even once.

Until now.

Now that after a long day of fighting pirates and after that,having to deal with your drunk and alcoholic crewmates,your find yourself in your Captain's lap.

As odd as it sounds,it was a pretty common thing for the both of you; Shanks loved to have you close,and you..just loved him. So you came up with a way to relax and at the same time,bask in each other's presence. And that was sitting in Shank's lap each night to find the solace you've been yearning for all day long.

And it was an accident the first time; when the ship rocked a little too harshly and you found yourself stumbling. Shanks not wanting you to fall down, stretched his arm to catch you,only for you to fall directly in his lap. And years after years of unspoken feelings,had Shanks wrapping his arm around your waist to keep you from getting up.

Now after a whole night of confession and gentle touches, you're here again;with your hands caressing his stubbled face and then carding your fingers through his red locks,Shanks looks up at you with so much adoration as his hand rests on your hip and draws soothing circles with his thumb on it. You smile warmly at him,and when his eyes glance at your lips,the familiar nervousness bubbles up inside your chest and twists your stomach.

And true to Shank's fashion,he immediately notices the change in your mood.

"Princess," his hand never stops his caressings, "whats the matter?"

You smile nervously as you try to avoid looking at his eyes.

"nothing?"

"darling," his hand rests on your cheek this time to make you look at him directly again, "i know you. Something's bothering you isn't it?"

And you knew you cant fool him. He's your captain after all. So you let out a heavy sigh and try to meet his eyes nervously.

"you know uh.... I've actually,never been in a relationship with anyone?"

Shanks tilts his head and nods cautiously.

"yeah i know. What about it,my love?"

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you try to speak next without running away.

"so... I've never...kissed anyone before?"

Shanks blinks,and suddenly after a moment he leans forward to kiss your forehead so softly,it has your eyes fluttering shut.

"baby girl,thats nothing for you to be embarrassed about." He eyes your lips once more before closing the distance between the two of you slowly, "we can always practice together. To be fair, I am off my game as well."

Then his lips are on yours. The mere press of his lips against yours,has your hands trembling as you try to do something with them,so you settle them on his shoulders.

"just follow my lead, love."

And when he starts moving his lips with yours, you follow his every movement.

You'll learn in no time,after all,you have the best teacher in the whole world to teach you

[romaevelizz]

Crush Culture˖ ࣪⊹

VII. Warmth

sum: him being patient as he waited till he could feel her touch again.

warnings: fluff, long distance,not proofread, dramatic reunion.

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

Laying on his back as he stare up at the ceiling, they had been texting for days. Constant calls, as they talked about any this even sitting in silences as they did their own thing the phone propped up. His eyes scanning the picture he’s collect if her through face time, may it be her sitting down doing her make up, washing her face, eating or drawing. How when she sat in her bed her legs crossed and she leaned over her iPad then complained that her back always hurt. How she’d answer the phone at any hour he called her, her sleepy voice echoing through his ears.

She learned that maybe he was a bit more clingy then he showed himself, him softly saying he missed her voice or wanted to see her face. How he asked over and over when she’d finally be down so he could see her.

Yamaguchi loved asking Kei about her asking how she was, watching as his best friend would grin softly giving him vague answer that soon turn into a small story, his smile never leaving his face. This didn’t go unnoticed by his family either how kei would walk down to the kitchen his face in his phone, a small giddy grin on his face that when mentioned he’d always say it was nothing. How he’d have his phone sitting on the table watching a messages she would send, god he missed her.

But he never voiced it maybe in subtle ways, how he’d ask when she’d come down finally getting a date out if you. That shed be coming up 4th of July weekend, he just had to wait a few more days. He wanted to tell her that he missed her but he couldn’t, he couldn’t wait till his stomach filled with butterflies when she kissed him. He couldn’t wait to hold her hand and touchher face again.

The ding of his phone made him sit up quickly grabbing his phone from the table next to the couch.

shit.. she talked about him a lot, why did he like. Why he said was bullshit. He did talk about you, to his dad.. wierd maybe but he knew he wouldn’t make a big deal out if it and constantly be in his business. As much as he loved his mother… he just couldn’t go to her but not he really didn’t have any other choice.

“Mom..” he hummed leaning on the arm looking at his mother who sat next to him curled up in a blanket as they watched a movie together.

“What’s up Kei?” She asked smile over at him.

“I need to tell you something, promise you won’t like freak out.” He muttered playing with his hands.

She shifted her position her back leaning against the arm, “what’s wrong honey?” She asked her tone a bit worried now.

He took a deep breath, “I’m talking to someone..”

“You have a girlfriend!” She spoke coving her mouth quickly after watching his face. “Sorry oh my gosh sorry! It exciting news when can I meet her when-“

“She’s gonna be up visiting from Tokyo tomorrow, she’s the reason I’ve been all in my phone.” He muttered pulling at the lose skin on his fingers.

She smiled “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before just nervous I guess, but I really do like her. She’s.. she’s really nice to be around and I like her attitude, I think you’ll like her a lot. She’s very family oriented, outgoing, pretty, smart and I could go on. But umm, she’s from Nekoma which is why she visiting, her and her family are coming up for the festival and staying with some family friends.” He spoke, he could feel his mother’s happiness radiating off of her as he did.

She knew her son’s perspective on relationships and girls and then hearing this made her happy. That he wasn’t afraid to let someone in, that he was willing to open himself to something new to a new person. That he really did like her, how his face flushed as he spoke about her. “Can I see some pictures?” She asked. Kei looked up, nodding as he grabbed his phone.

Showing pictures of her that he’d taken those ones either of her eating or some showing of an outfit, she was pretty. Her smile big in every photo he showed her, how her shoulder lifted when she had her hands on her hips. Others some she had sent him, her dark complexion so radiant, her eyes wide and a gorgeous smile plastered on her pretty features, her hair almost always styled. Her confidence in her own body and looks were so strong through a simple picture. Then in the other few her face was relaxed as she did whatever she was doing, Kei taking so pictures while she drew or baked her natural hair framing her face perfectly.

“She’s gorgeous Kei..”

“I know..” he said looking at the photos before looking back at her.

“Stop, mom don’t cry!” He panicked watching his mom’s lip quiver.

She waved her hands whipping her face “I can’t wait to meet her Baby.”

A subtle ding ring through her ears making her turn her body, picking up her phone she read

“My mom thinks you’re gorgeous by the way.”

A smile crept on her lips, ‘am I a girlfriend or someone you’re talking to.’

She watched as her phone began to ring picking it up his voice spoke up “You’re my Girlfriend.”

“Oh am I?” She giggled.

“Yes, and don’t be to disappointed, but I will ask you probably but I hate saying your someone I’m taking to because you are much more than that. Best fix. You’re my girlfriend.” He said.

“I’m perfectly fine with that..” she hummed pausing, “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Tomorrow evening right?”

“Yes we’re riding the train up.” He could hear her smile.

“So I’ll meet you at the train station?”

“I would love that..” she said “I would like that a lot..”

“Good, you better get to sleep..”

“Goodnight kei.” She muttered.

“I’m sorry who?” He sassed, earning a laugh from her.

“Goodnight Stalker.” She scoffed.

“Mm goodnight brat..” he said. The line dying once she hung up, a big sigh leaving his lips as he fell back onto his bed.

He would get to see her tomorrow, all he had to do was wait. And god would waiting be worth it, worth watching her face light up once she saw him dropping her luggage before running over to him. Him smiling as she ran over to him his smile like a frown smile. The feeling of her weight on him as she latched onto him her arms wrapping around his back as he lifted her off the ground a bit. His hind on her becoming tighter as his head fell into her neck taking in her sent. God he missed her smell, the warmth of her body. She pulled back smiling kissing his face, as he hands held him gently.

“Ugh I’ve missed your grouchy face!” She smiled.

“ I’ve missed you too..” he muttered his eyes meeting hers, he watched her eyes look down to the flowers in his hand.

“They’re for you!” He spoke nervously handing her the flowers, a pretty bouquet all of her favorite flowers.

“They’re gorgeous,” she smiled taking them, her eyes meeting his. “So this is yo lil Boyfriend!” A women said from behind her.

“Kei this is my older sister Vanessa,” she sighed.

“You ready to meet everyone else?” She asked grabbing his hand.

He gulped nodding.

Shaking hands with her dad was the scariest part, he was by no means a small man he was well over 6’3 big and burly, his arms decorated in tattoos, his head bald. But even when her father gave him a smile he still wanted to shit his pants. Her mother was also a bit nerve racking, but she was kind offering him a kind smile from the beginning. Her older brothers trying to be intimidated but came off as dicks only to apologize after. Her two older sisters smiling teasing poor kei, then her younger siblings, Caleb being rhetorical only one who glared at him for a minute shaking his hand he watched as he gave you a side glace causing you to punch him. The two youngest were just polite having manners they new they needed with new people.

“Not that bad hm?”

“Your dad definitely made me piss my pants same with Michael..” he muttered.

“Please Micky is harmless!”

She laughed watching the blond sigh he head falling a bit, as he grabbed her bag. Her hands grabbing his face kissing his lips softly, before they began to walk. God it was so easy to make his heart flutter.

“Do you have a friend Kei?” She asked suddenly looking up from her phone.

“Why..?”

“Well the family friend I’m staying with is my best friend butttt I wanna hang out with you, but she also wants to kind hangout with me so she asked if you had a friend so she wasn’t third wheeling.?” She smiled.

A double date, hmm. Doesn’t sound bad plus he’d get to spend the evening with her and he just had to drag Tadashi along.. “I’ll ask. But I could make it work what time do you wanna meet up? I know you’re close to me.”

He nodded “yeah we could head down to the night market I know the have some carnival stuff going on for the festival. Rides, games hella food!” She spoke happily.

“Yeah I’ll get him on borde.” He spoke the feeling of her fingers linking with his making him stutter.

“Perfect then! It’s a Two Man!”

[slutforleeminho]

Hey, love!!

I saw the requests open for Changbin. Can you do a shower smut with a shy reader and make it extra sensual and passionate. Like some body worshipping?

Ignore if you're uncomfortable.

Toodles!! Have a good day!!

stop it rn this is such a cute idea

‘join me?’ ~ seo changbin

“binnie.” you whispered into the shell of his ear while also gently shaking his arm, trying your best to wake him up in a quiet way. but changbin slept like a rock, the man has slept through every single storm that you would jolt awake in fear to. you were growing impatient. “changbin!” you raised you voice, ditching the soft girl voice you were using merely a moment before. he groaned against his pillow, a muffled ‘five more minutes’ was the only thing he said before hiding his face under the blanket. you rolled your eyes at his laziness but excused his actions because he was so cute doing it. “i made breakfast.” his reaction was exactly how you predicted it to be, head peaking out from under the duvet as he yawned a ‘what did you make’.

it wasn’t long before you were both sitting at the kitchen island, changbin chowing down while you watched him with a smile on your face. you loved to cook for him, it was always the first thing you did in the morning. you lost count of how many cook books you’ve bought so you could practice new recipes for him to taste test. you learned over the past few years the food was basically his love language, that and physical touch. he would always come up behind you and wrap his thick arms around your waist while you were making dinner, leaving soft kisses on your neck and whispering sweet love confessions in your ear. you would never pass up the opportunity to cook for him.

once he was finished he placed his used dishes in the sink and announced he was off to take a shower, but not before thanking you for the food with a kiss. “don’t take too long. i have to take one too.” you had done a quick workout before he woke up and wanted to wash the dried sweat off of you.

“why don’t you just join me? the shower is big enough for the both of us.” his offer took you by surprise, you had never done that before. you were barely confident enough to have sex with him in a dark room, let alone be completely bare naked before him while you bathed. it was that you were insecure about the way you looked, you knew you were pretty, you just didn’t think you were pretty enough for him. compared to him you looked pitiful. i mean have you seen him? he looked like he was hand sculpted by god himself.

“no!” you responded quickly, shutting down his idea. but the confusion on his face made you realize you could’ve worded that a little nicer. “i mean that’s okay. i need to wash up these dishes anyways.” you said in a calmer tone this time. but he still wasn’t buying it.

“the dishes can wait. come on baby please.” his voice was whiny as he begged you to accompany him, his lip jutted out in a pout and eyes got ten times bigger, they sparkled as if a tear would fall out any second. you couldn’t resist the cuteness of it all and caved in rather quickly. his demeanor changed automatically from the sad puppy to jumping in excitement and grabbing your hand to drag you to the bathroom. you giggled at reaction, he was so happy you were joining him.

once you were in you stood behind him, letting him wet his hair and body. you couldn’t help you eyes from wandering, admiring all of him, from his hands and down his arms, drooling at the sight sight of his biceps and the way the flexed as he ran his fingers through his hair. his back muscles were so defined and detailed, every dip and curve of them were drawing you in. “just couldn’t help yourself could you?” you were confused by his question but then reality hit you like a bag of bricks and you realized you were tracing out patterns on his back, mapping out all your favorite parts. you quickly retracted your hands and held them to your chest. embarrassment started to set in as you apologized to him and how you didn’t know what came over you.

he turned around, his eyes meeting yours immediately. he took your hands in his, rubbing circles onto your palm with his thumbs. “why are you sorry? i love it when you touch me. the only downside to it is that your hands are so tiny that it kinda tickles.” the way he was speaking to you so casually put you at ease, making you feel so much more comfortable.

“i just didn’t want to invade your personal bubble.” his head cocked to the side as he looked down at you.

“i’ve never had a personal bubble when it comes to you, baby.” he brought both of your hands up to his chest, placing them atop. “feel free to touch me however you’d like.” after given his explicit consent you ran your hands all over his chest, making your way down to his torso. he didn’t really have defined abs but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, he was still the sexiest person you’d ever laid eyes on.

as you felt him up the heat growing in between your legs started to become uncomfortable, squeezing your thighs together to relieve yourself a little bit. your constant shifting must have caught chanbins eye. “can i invade your personal bubble?” a hint of teasing in his voice.

“please.” you didn’t mean to sound so needy but that’s exactly what you are, needy. he wrapped is arms around your waist and brought you flush against his chest, your boobs squished against him. he smashed his lips against yours, the kiss was gentle but still heated. you gasped when his tongue swiped against yours and you brought your hands to the back of his head to tangle your fingers into his hair and pull him even closer. he moved his kisses from your lips to your neck, creating little red marks as he went. he kept going lower until he reached your perky breasts, taking your left nipple into his mouth and sucking like his life depended on it. his tongue tongue circled it, working you up until you were arching your back up and closer to his mouth. he suddenly pulled away, the quiet sound of a ‘pop’ was heard from the separation of his lips from your now swollen and aching nipple. he only gave you a small glance before dropping to his knees to be eye level with your cunt. his eyes sparkled as he looked at your soaked pussy, your wetness dripping down your thighs. he pushed your thighs farther apart and without warning dove straight into licking from your entrance to your clit, stopping there for a moment to circle it with his tongue then sucking hard and then repeating his actions. you threw your head back in pure ecstasy, his mouth working you over so good. your legs started to shake from the uncomfortable stance. he noticed and lifted you right thigh over his shoulder, taking some of the weight off of your feet. your hand found it’s way to his hair once again but this time you pulled at it harshly before shoving his face closer to your sex. your hip started moving on their own, basically full on riding his face at this point. the pressure started to build up and you knew if he kept eating you out like he was a starved man, you would absolutely explode. a rather loud moan came from deep in your gut when he started started steadily sucking on you clit, and just like that you were coming undone on his face.

he continued softly licking up your release until you fully came down from your high. your chest heaved as you tried you best to catch your breath but it was difficult when that was probably the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced.

he carefully removed your leg off of his shoulder and placed it back on the floor, standing back up to hover over your quivering body. “you look so pretty when when you come.” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. his compliment went straight to your core and you suddenly felt shy under his piercing gaze, a deep blush painting your cheeks. “aww is my baby flustered?” he smirked as he ran his finger over the pink of your cheek. “how about we see how you look when you come on my cock, yeah?” you nodded eagerly which pulled a laugh out of changbin. but his honey like voice died down and he quickly got to work, pulling you in and kissing you passionately. you could taste yourself on his tongue but the maple syrup from his breakfast overcame it, making him taste so sweet.

his hands went from the small of your back to cup your ass cheeks, he squeezed harshly and used the hold he had on you to lift you off your feet and into his arms. your legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing them tightly around him to keep yourself up. you felt the tip of changbins cock pressing up against your ass, he was so hard.

he pressed your back against the cold tile wall causing you to gasp. he rutted his hips forward, the tip of his member nudging your clit. even though you just came less than ten minutes ago, the need that was bubbling in your lower belly was hard to ignore. “bin please.” only changbin could pull this side of you out of hiding.

“what is it, honey? tell me what you want.” he always urged you to be vocal and communicate your wants during your intimate times together.

“i want you inside me.” he grinned at your answer.

“so greedy. i already made you come once and you want more?” to anyone else it would sound like he was teasing you but you knew he was only joking and would give you anything you asked for on a silver platter. that’s what he always does, serves you. wether it be simple things like picking something up for you from the store on his way home from work, to getting on him hands and knees to please you until you tell him to stop. changbin talks big game but you know deep down that you have this man wrapped around your little finger.

when he finally does enter you for the first time, it’s euphoric. little bolts of electricity shooting through your body, starting at your core and exiting from your toes and finger tips, leaving you feeling tingly. your fingers dug into his broad shoulders, leaving little crescent moon shapes on his skin. he stretched you out as far as you could go, pushing your limits. he bottomed out and released a puff of breath he must’ve been holding in. he let he adjust to his girth before pulling out, just to push his way back into your plush walls. “you’re always so wet for me, baby. always so warm and tight. feels so good sweetheart.” his praise caused a quiet whine to escape your red and swollen lips, bruised from all the harsh biting in attempt to hold yourself back from screaming.

instead of fucking you senseless, he thrusted into you slowly and steadily, hitting that one good spot deep inside you. the slower he went the more you wanted to force him onto this shower floor and ride him till you both came, but you let him have his way with you. you knew he loved to take it slow and just relish in the feeling of you, taking in every detail and just feel. but he too had needs that needed to be fulfilled and you were more than willing to help him get there.

his hips sped up as he chased after that incredible high that he could only find in you. he started getting louder with his moans and grunts, signaling he was getting closer to his end. his desperation and made you clench around him, you felt him twitching uncontrollably and his hips started losing their rhythm. “i’m gonna come. are you close, sweetheart?”

“so close.” your breathing was all over the place, occasionally catching in your throat.

“shit i’m coming, baby.” his hips stuttered as he emptied himself inside of you, moaning your name into the crook of your neck. the warmth of his seed filling you up pushed you over the edge for the second and final time today. your back arched up into him and your legs tried to squeeze together but his large hands pulled your legs open, keeping them spread so he could reach the peak of his orgasm and make sure you did too.

he stopped altogether when you whimpered from being so sensitive and tired from the two very intense orgasms in the span of fifteen minutes. he lowered your legs back to the floor but didn’t let go of your waist, still holding the majority of your weight up. “even better” he grinned.

“what do you mean?” your eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“you look even prettier when you come on my cock.” his tongue drew out to wet his lips. you couldn’t help but smile at his compliment and bring your hands up to cover your red ears. he took your hands in his and pulled you under the stream of warm water, wetting your hair and grabbing your lavender shampoo from the little shelf in the corner, and pouring a dime size amount in his palm. “how about we actually shower now?” he joked as he rubbed his hands together, creating a foam. you agreed and turned around, allowing him to run his fingers through your hair and message it into your scalp, humming at the relaxing feeling.

i like this one🤭

@fawnpeaks @yumiblogs

[masonmyluv]

Part 1

A/N: I really hope you will all like this story. It’s my first pretty long story (it will have around 10 parts, so stay tuned ;) ) that I’m posting here. You can also find the story on my wattpad account (username: tmrxlover_writer).

Pictures are from Pinterest, the filter is Cinnamon on Polarr.

Warnings: none

︵✦⋆₊°˖︵‿₊

Another day at Uni after he just scored his first La Liga goal . He was buzzing, but had to be on time for classes. He was sure the whole university will congratulate him. Being famous was difficult when you just wanted to be a normal student.

"Our boy Fermin is back!"

You looked up from your notes to see Fermin being congratulated by the whole class. People hugging him, patting him on the back. "Thanks man" he kept saying, trying to make his way to his place. He just wanted the class to begin so everyone could leave him alone. "Hey" he said, sitting next to you. "Hi" you replied quietly. Being the shy nerdy girl was bad enough when you were sitting near the hot athletic guy. You asked yourself multiple times why did he choose to sit near you in the first year. There were a lot of empty places, but he chose the second row in the front, exactly near you. "Anything that I missed?" He asked, looking at your notes. He always admired your beautiful handwriting and how organised you were, so he knew where to choose to sit at your first class together. Surely not the guy with only a piece of paper and a pen, but rather the girl surrounded by books, coloured pencils and a cup of coffee. He didn't have the balls to ask you to get coffee in the morning, even though he wasn't drinking it, he would offer to come along with you.

"Erm...not really. We talked about more practical stuff. I made some notes if you want to take a picture or something" you offered shyly. You never ever gave your notes to anyone because they were just some lazy asses who didn't care about anything, but you were here to learn. You wanted to be a physiotherapist. They were here just to get a diploma. Not Fermin though. He was passionate about the subject, even though he missed a lot of classes because of his packed schedule. You were willing to help him because he showed interest. And appreciated your work too.

"Thanks. Actually I had an idea, I mean a proposal" he said. "I'm quite behind with everything, so I was wondering if you'd like to meet somewhere and help me catch up? It's okay if you don't want to" he said nervously. Why the heck was he nervous? He scored his first goal in freaking La Liga and was nervous talking to a girl he's seen almost every day in 3 years. You thought about his idea, you wanted to help him, but you weren't the person to meet up in random places to study. You liked the confined space of your room and desk, and maybe the library or the coffee shop, when you had to do computer work.

"I don't want to sound... uhh... like I'm inviting myself" he said blushing as if reading your mind. "But I can come to your place, if that's okay with you". "I... uhh" you rambled on, but the professor was already in class, ready to read one of his boring presentations for 2 hours. You barely paid attention to what he was saying, debating whether to accept Fermin's idea or not, while drawing random patterns on your copybook. Fermin noticed you zooming out so he scribbled something down on his own copybook. He nudged you so you could read what he wrote.

It's okay. It was just an idea :)

You shook your head, writing under his: we talk after the class.

For the rest of the class, you took notes, while Fermin tried paying attention, but his mind kept drifting off somewhere else. What if he overstepped with all this I-can-come-to-your-place-to-study thing and you would think he's weird? He face palmed himself for that, but you were his only hope to pass the exams this semester. The professor finally ended the class and you started packing your bag. Neither of you spoke until you were out of the class.

"Listen I—"

"It's okay if—"

You both stopped mid sentence and chuckled. "You first" he encouraged. "So, I think it's okay for you to come. I live alone anyway. Just tell me when it's okay with you". Fermin couldn't believe what he was hearing. You never ever invited someone over and he could respect that it was your safe place and he didn't want to intrude. "Are you sure it's okay?" He asked and you nodded. "Okay, let me see. Actually I'll text you the day before because I'll have some recovery trainings and I'll be free to come" he said. "I know it's difficult to put up with me" he chuckled nervously. "It's okay. It's not like I'm a party animal or anything" you said. "Okay... I'll let you know soon. Bye. And thank you" he said, climbing into his car. He thought of offering you a car ride, but maybe it was too much overstepping in one day, so he just waved at you and you waved back to him.

When you arrived home, you thought about this day. What the heck was today? Of course you gave him your notes pretty often, but him to come here to study? That was a whole new level.

︵✦⋆₊°˖︵‿₊

Hope you like it 🤍

Feedback is appreciated 😊

[spacebarbarianweird]

the officialized Dadstarion request:

I was thinking that Astarion is trying to teach his moody pre-teen dhampir how to fight and she’s not having a good time, because why would someone as strong as her bother with mortal weapons, let alone some knives. But Astarion is pretty set on teaching her how to defend herself in a way that has her rely on skills other than her inherent dhampir powers.

There’s definitely a clash of opinions but both slowly get where the other is coming from—Astarion who was weak and had to learn how to be strong; his kid—born strong having to come to terms with the fact that strength isn’t everything

Thank you, hehe ✨

Ooof, I finally made it! Hope you will enjoy the story about how to train your dhampir!

If you wonder who is Nris and how he ended up in the Ancunins' basement, you can read The Dead, the Half-Dead and the Undead (but you don't have to).

Synopsis: Astarion teaches Alethaine how to fight

Tags: dadstarion, dhampirs, necromancy, father-daughter relationship, Tiriel is being a bitch, slice of life

Alethaine's age: 11

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Alethaine drops her bag on an empty chair and yawns, showing her dhampir fangs (and causing a tiny human child next to her to flinch).

The teacher, an elderly tiefling with a broken tail, explains the town’s kids things so basic that the dhampir already knew them when she was four. 

Unfortunately, there is only one person in the whole Daggerlake who has decided to teach the local kids at least something, and once a week, a bunch of children aged eight to fourteen gather in a small hut to listen to the tiefling bragging about the “good old days” and also learn some basics of math and Infernal.

“What are you doing here?” a dwarven girl, Rutha, whispers. “I thought your dad locked someone in the basement to teach you...magic stuff!”

“Nris knows no shit!” Alethaine answers. “All he teaches me is how to draw stupid runes and sigils and he can’t even raise a dead dog from the dead!” She stumbles. “Wait! How do you know dad locked someone in the basement?!”

“Everyone in town knows Astarion kidnapped a dark wizard,” Rutha shrugs. “He’s been there for how long? Does your dad feed on him?”

Alethaine bites her lower lip. It was supposed to be a secret along with her necromantic abilities. A year ago she accidentally revived a dead kitten. As if the gods had decided that elf-dhampir wasn't enough and also gave Alethaine an innate talent for necromancy.

Sorceress.

That’s what Alethaine Ancunin is.

Her dad, Astarion, faced and solved this problem in his own manner: he brought his daughter a teacher. Nris, a poor necromancer whose soul had been sold to the devils. Astarion broke the necromancer’s pact but made him sign another. Nris was supposed to teach Alethaine necromancy while hiding in the basement of the Ancunin’s house as long as his service was needed.

“No, he just lives there. And he is a useless piece of shit!” Alethaine says in her normal voice as the human boys who sit in the front row start arguing with the teacher calling him a demon.

“Why is that necromancer still there?” Rutha exclaims.

“I AM TIRED OF YOU LITTLE FUCKER!” the teacher yells and drags one of the boys to the board.

“Because of my mum!” Alethaine answers. “Dad wanted to get rid of Nris in a week. And you know what happened? Mum went down to the basement, looked at the necromancer, and yelled that he owed her money!”

“How so?”

“OH, YOU WANNA A FIST FIGHT?!” The tiefling roars at the ten-year-old. “YOU WILL GET A FIST FIGHT!”

Alethaine got closer to Rutha.

“When mum was twenty, he gave her a quest to retrieve some magic item from some ogres. She did find it, but the ogres broke her hand in two places. When she came back, Nris refused to pay and Mum had to stay in a temple till she fully recovered. So, Dad calculated the interest since it’s been almost fifty years ago and also the moral damage – and now Nris is staying till he pays back by teaching me!”

A wooden chair flies over the girls’ heads and smashes against the wall.

“YOU MOTHERF –” the teacher suddenly remembers he is in the room full of children and switches to Infernal. The insults pour down on them and Alethaine takes a piece of paper to write down at least a few words. Who knows, maybe she will need to make a devil cry one day?

“Slow down!” Alethaine yells back. “I am taking notes!”

Someone in the classroom joins the screaming match and Alethaine’s head starts aching. Acute hearing causes more trouble than common people think.

… When Alethaine leaves school (if one can call it that), it’s still afternoon. Usually, the dhampir helps the healer with the herbs – the halfling doesn’t see in the dark of the underground tunnels and can’t walk up the walls, so Alethaine has been helping her since she was five. Kelma pays her and the dhampir often has some money to spend on herself, especially when traveling sellers visit Daggerlake or her parents take her to Secomber, a bigger city fifty miles to the West. 

Alethaine takes the stone stairs and walks to the underground part of the town. The dhampir has no idea why Kelma prefers to live there without dark vision, but it seems like she is perfectly fine in the shadows.

“Oh, you are early today,” Kelma says, seeing Alethaine entering the yard. 

“The teacher fought the smith’s daughter.”

“Ah, he’s drunk his own brains with fire whiskey. I have no work today, Aletha, take a day off.”

“Don’t you need anything?”

“Do you want to help me clean the hut? I can give you the rugs to mop the ceiling,” the healer chuckles.

“Nope.”

“I thought so. You know, Alethaine, you were always a bit lazy. Tiriel would come to me asking if it was normal for an elf to sleep as much like you did.”

“Kelma—” Alethaine groans.

“Oh, and I remember you absolutely refused to walk when you already could. Why bother walking if mum and dad carried you around? They have been spoiling you rotten, especially Astarion!” Kelma laughs.

“You know Kelma… I will busy myself with something!”

“Good, Alethaine. Tomorrow, I will need your help to carry sacks around.”

“The teacher wants to give us a test in math tomorrow.”

“Do you care?”

“No.”

“Then I expect to see you at noon,” the halfling takes her pipe out and smokes.

Alethaine closes the fence. She doesn’t want to go home – Tiriel will try to force her to learn magic from Nris. And not because she really thinks he can teach her anything, but because she wants compensation for what the necromancer did to her fifty years ago. To her daughter, Tiriel has never come across as vindictive;now Alethaine thinks  her mother will rip the throat of anyone refusing to pay for her services in battle.

So, the dhampir goes further into the underground tunnels.

This part of the town is completely prohibited for the town's kids, but Alethaine has been going there since she was little. The tunnels are a part of some ancient temple that disappeared into oblivion millennia ago. They spread further and further under the ground, nearly reaching the Underdark.

And the whole place is deliciously creepy.

Alethaine jumps on what looks like a part of the wall, spreads her arms as if she needs to keep her balance and walks forward.

The sounds of the town fade as the girl explores the dark place. 

Alethaine Ancunin sees the world in shades of gray. She senses the presence of creatures full of warm blood and skeletons buried beneath the stones.

Skulls can tell a lot if one knows how to make them talk…

Someone grabs Alethaine from up above. She smells fresh blood and senses the familiar embrace.

“Dad! Let me go!” She laughs as Astarion holds her a few feet above the wall. 

“Hm? Should I?” he chuckles. His shirt is blood-stained and his skin is unnaturally warm.

“Yes! Dad, let me go!” Aletaine insists and he immediately puts her back.

Then, Astarion jumps on the wall and now they stand in front of each other. Alethaine smiles and hugs him.

“I thought you didn't want me to hold you?” he mocks her, patting her back.

“I don’t like being held upside down!”

“It’s actually ridiculous because it’s natural to walk like that” he sits at the edge of the wall. Alethaine joins him. It’s about twenty feet to the solid ground and it would concern Alethaine if a fall could do any harm to her.

Well, it still can. When Alethaine was eight she had a nasty fall into a crevice and broke her leg. She crawled back using her spider climb and then went straight home. It took her longer with a broken leg and she ugly cried because there was no one around. By the time she arrived home, her leg had already healed thanks to her regenerative abilities, but it didn’t mean the whole experience was less horrifying for the little dhampir. 

Alethaine remembers entering the house, all dirty, with a blood-stained dress, without one boot, hair dirty and messy, limping (because the leg hurt as hell) while her parents were talking in the kitchen. Now that she is eleven, she suspects she witnessed Astarion drinking Tiriel’s blood.

She knows her father dines on her mother’s blood. She also knows that it involves adult things she isn’t supposed to see. 

“How was school?” Astarion asks, taking his daughter’s hand. Alethaine’s skin is as pale as his.

“I learned how to swear in Infernal.”

“A rather practical skill!” he laughs. “I had a fight with a behir. Rather horrible beasts. And their blood tastes… weird”

“Do you drink any blood?” she suddenly asks. “Like, will any living creature do?”

“Blood is blood,” Astarion shrugs. “I can feed on fleas and worms as long they are alive.”

“Ew! Gross!” Alethaine cringes and her father smiles. There is something bitter about it, but Alethaine doesn’t know why. 

“...your mother's blood tastes different from that of any...,” he sighs dreamily and Alethaine covers her pointy ears.

They sit in silence for a while.

“You need to be careful,” he says. “There are many dangers in the tunnels and also in the woods.”

“I can deal with danger! I am a dhampir!” She bares her fangs and then takes a boulder that weighs almost as much as hers and tosses it into the air like a rubber ball. “I can rip their throats and break their bones. And I also know dark spells!”

“Alethaine, you are eleven. You aren’t invincible. I want you to be careful.”

“What for? I can fight an ogre if I need to! I am a Dhampir and a necromancer, I already know more than this filthy man you locked in the basement!”

Astarion’s face gets a serious expression.

“You know more than him, princess, because he is a wizard and you are a sorcerer. He taught himself all the things you were born with. But it doesn't seem like you know how to use these skills.”

“I will be fine!”

“All right then,” Astarion chuckles.

Aethaine turns around and suddenly a cold grip closes on her throat. Astarion’s eyes glow red.

“Dad…”

And then he jumps from the wall dragging her with him. In a heartbeat Alethaine finds herself restrained on the stones with her father’s knees on her ribcage and his dagger against her neck.

“So, where is your strength and where is the necromancy?” he asks softly. “If I were an enemy, you would be already dead.”

Alethaine pushes Astarion and he lets her go. The anger awakes something feral in the dhampir, the predatory side that screams “kill the vampire,” and she jumps on Astarion.

KILL THE VAMPIRE.

Only to be thrown away.

Astarion moves gracefully, holding daggers in his hands.

“Cast a spell.”

“But—”

“Cast at least something, princess, since you are so proud of your abilities!”

Alethaine raises her hand. For a brief second, her fingertips prickle, and a green ray strikes Astarion. 

And nothing happens even though Alethaine is sure he has been hit.

“What do the drunkard at school and the moron in the basement even teach you…” Astarion mutters. Now, he looks just disappointed. “I am undead. I am immune to necrotic damage!”

“Fuck,” Alethaine says.

“Fuck indeed. Did I hurt you?”

“No, I am fine.”

Astarion kneels in front of her. “Princess, you are not invincible. Many things will want to hurt you. And if you don't know how to protect yourself, you will die. And you’d better pray you just die in the blink of an eye not feeling anything. Because there are things worse than death. Being trapped by a hag. Being a slave in the Underdark. Getting your memories and personality erased. Turning into a disgusting monster. You can’t turn into a vampire, that’s for sure, but dhampirs are our worst enemies. Your mother and I released seven thousand bloodsuckers into the Underdark and who knows how many vampires are there now. And if they learnt you exist, young and innocent, they will want you dead before you become a menace.”

Astarion hands her a dagger.

“You need to learn how to fight.”

**

Alethaine is tired, dirty, and angry.

Every time she thinks she understands how to use daggers in a fight, she somehow ends up on the ground over and over again.

Or against the wall.

Or with a blade against her throat.

Or face down with her father pressing a knee on her back.

And over and over again she is forced to stand and try again. 

Her bones have been broken at least thrice. One time she even lost consciousness after Astarion pushed against a boulder. She woke up in a second and tried to bite her dad but instead ended up in a pool of dirt once again.

“You are dhampir!” he encourages her. “You are stronger than I am! You don’t have my weaknesses! You can take me in a fight!”

“Who said that,” Alethaine sniffs and tries once again. 

And again.

And again.

“I am tired,” she pouts. “And hungry. We can try again later!”

Astarion looks at her and nods. 

The moment he turns around, Alethaine snatches the dagger and stabs his hip forcing Astarion to fall down with a short cry.

She pulls the blood-stained dagger and jumps on him, pointing the weapons at his face.

Astarion stares at her in shock and then starts laughing.

“You did it! Gods, Alethaine, you did!” He sits up and hugs her. “My ferocious little princess, you took me down!”

Alethaine looks at his hip which has already stopped bleeding. 

“It was fun,” Alethaine admits as they return home.

“I suppose you enjoyed the part when you threatened to cut my perfect face?”

“It was fun to fight. I want to know more about fencing!”

“I will teach you, don’t worry. You will challenge evil vampire lords to duels and end their pathetic lives!”

Alethaine smiles holding her father’s hand.

“I will tell Nris you are tired,” he says when they approach home.

“Dad… about that… Could you please send him away?”

“Your mother wants him to stay.”

“And I don’t! The whole point was for him to teach me, not Mum to get her revenge!”

“All right, I will talk to her,'' Astarion promises. “Now go and clean yourself before eating.”

Alethaine spends an hour in the bath washing off the dirt and sweat. She hears her parents talking but can’t decipher their words. 

When she finally returns to the kitchen, Tiriel hands out a plate with dinner in front of her.

“Kitten, so you really don’t learn anything from Nris?” the red-headed warrior asks.

“The drunk tiefling at school teaches me more!”

“Great. I am tired of having a stranger in the house. Besides, we need the basement for something else!” she suspiciously winks to Astarion and the vampires grins.

Alethaine pretends she didn’t hear that.

Tiriel goes downstairs. Something slams against the wall.

“Wake up, moron!” Tiriel yells.

“What now?” Nris grunts as the barbarian drags him upstairs. “Oh, hello creatures of the night. You’ve decided to eat me and end my sufferings?”

Tiriel pushes him to the table. The necromancer looks pathetic – he wears rags, reeks of cheap ale, and the symbol of Thay on his chest is covered with the remains of his last dinner. 

“You know, I really needed those ten gold back,” Tiriel grabs his short hair as if she wanted to slam his face against the table. “I was twenty, I was all alone, no soul to care about me and the only thing I wanted was to do my job and get a fucking reward!”

“Mum, I am still a minor!” Alethane protests.

“Kitten, I am well aware of your skills in insulting others!” Tiriel returns back to Nris. “So, imagine me crawling back from that disgusting cave with my hand broken in two, bleeding and tired, only for you, Nris, to take the item and cast me out like a cat on the streets!”

“I am sorry! Tiriel, I’ve already apologized! Astarion, tell her!”

“Nris, there are only two people in this world I care about and neither likes you,” Astarion keeps sharpening his dagger.

“You apologized only because you realized your well-being depended on me, a once poor stupid girl who couldn’t read! Fuck off, I don’t want to ever see you again.”

Nris stares at her with horror. “You let me go? Just like this?”

“Well, not exactly,” Tiriel takes his right hand and breaks the bone with a disgusting cracking sound.

“YOU BITCH!!” the necromancer cries out. “FUCK!”

Tiriel grabs Nris’s collar and drags him all the way to the front door to throw him out like a drunk client in a tavern.

Alethaine looks at Astarion.

“And mum is supposed to be the normal one?” she says.

“Your mum allowed a vampire to bite her, what are you even talking about…”

Tiriel walks back and sits at the table, taking her portion of the food.

“And now you two tell me why you look worse than I did after working for that piece of shit!”

**

Astarion goes downstairs to the basement. The place reeks of the necromancer even though he has left.

“We need to burn everything down,” Tiriel says, looking around.

“Darling, I am not ready to move anywhere, especially after an arson,” he hugs her and teases her left ear. “But now, the basement is all ours!”

“I actually got tired of wishing for Alethaine to go for a walk every time we want to have sex. Do you remember how easy it was before? Whenever and wherever we wanted!”

“Acute dhampir hearing be damned,” Astarion sticks his hand inside Tiriel’s waistband. “But she can’t hear us from down here; is your desire for justice satisfied?”

“Oh, absolutely! But you’ve made a pact with him, haven't you?”

“I did. So, if Alethaine needs him for something he can’t say no because otherwise his former masters will come for him. He really did need to pay you back then!” His left hand traces along her curves.

“I was hurt and lonely,” she pouts. “It was a cold autumn, and I had to sleep on the floor of the temple of Tyr. I imagined someone hugging me to fall asleep.”

“Hm? Was it an elf with short silver hair?” he chuckles.

“I imagined him with long hair like your people usually have,” Tiriel sticks her neck out, inviting him for a bite.

Astarion pierces the skin and Tiriel’s blood gushes down his throat. 

Her blood is unique, no other sentient being can compare. Even small droplets of it satiate him, make his heart beat, and warm his skin.

He lets her go before pushing her on the floor.

“I love you,” Astarion says, getting rid of her clothes as she unlaces his trousers. 

“I love you, too,” Tiriel answers, tugging him as close as possible.

--

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[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Happy Birthday to the lovely @estrellami-1 I hope you're feeling better and that you're having a wonderful day ❤️

Eddie wasn't sure who the party was supposed to be for, he wasn't sure Steve knew either to be fair. It was someone's birthday party, he'd seen a sash on one of the girls, couldn't say for sure which one though. And of course it was hosted, as all parties were these days, at the Harrington residence.

He remembers Wayne telling him that no-one had seen Harrington Senior or his wife since just after the Byers kid went missing, so Eddie supposed that made this massive mansion all Steve's.

And it'd been obvious since his massive blow up with Wheeler that he'd just stopped giving a fuck.

So Tommy and his band of merry fuckheads organised parties in Steve's house, and made a fortune out of it too, even though Steve wasn't really even friends with any of them anymore.

Not that Eddie cared. He didn't. The bigger the parties, the more parties they had, the more money he made. It was all the same to him.

Just sometimes, Steve would catch his eye across a classroom or like now across a party and Eddie thought that he looked kinda… lonely. Not that he was sure why Steve would choose to be that way, he might've fallen from grace but the guy was still gorgeous, he could have anyone he wanted; but he just seemed to wander ghostlike around the edges of life these days.

It seemed like forever since Eddie had last seen him smile, not sneer or grimace like he tended to now but a proper eye crinkling, dimple showing smile. Not for a lack of trying on Eddie's part of course, he'd taken to acting like a jester trying to get the fallen king to even so much as smirk, but his attempts haven't worked so far.

He thought he'd managed it earlier, during English when they were discussing male protagonists and he'd said Steve would make a pretty good Mr Darcy and winked exaggeratedly at him but his face had just gone through a multitude of expressions before he'd huffed in annoyance and leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed, staring grumpily out of the window.

Eddie didn't know why he was so determined to fix him. They weren't friends, they were barely even acquaintances, but Wayne always said he had a tendency for strays and even though Steve's house was brimming with people, Eddie knew as well as Steve did that if he didn't have all this, he'd be well and truly alone, which thinking about it was probably why he was letting the dickhead jocks walk all over him.

Tonight was the third party Eddie's worked here in as many weeks and he's made a fortune but Tommy decided to start a fight with the birthday girl's boyfriend, which is one way to kill a party he supposes, so now everyone's starting to make their way home, groups of teens staggering their way down the middle of the road; which is just plain stupid really, they're all going to get caught, not that Eddie gives a fuck, keeping the cops busy on the main roads gives him chance to get away unnoticed.

He knows better than to draw attention to himself like that, he learned a long time ago to only work parties with a good escape route, so he heads straight to the sliding doors, that way he can slip out through the backyard and take his chances with whatever creatures live in the forest.

That's the plan anyway.

Until…

"Eddieeee!!" Steve yells, drunk as a skunk and half dangling out of the sunlounger he's supposed to be sitting in, reaching towards him and making grabby hands.

"Harrington," he greets wearily, he's been surreptitiously watching Steve all night, he knows he's had four too many and knows all too well how unpredictable drunk people can be, if it wasn't for the fact that he and Wayne need the money he wouldn't even be here.

Steve just sulks, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout, all big sad eyes, "Don't call me that," he mutters. Eddie doesn't say anything, just rocks on the balls on his feet and watches as Steve tries and fails to right himself, "Help?" he pleads like a toddler and Eddie can't help feeling endeared, he sighs, shaking his head to himself as he walks over to the sunlounger, picking Steve up under the arms, like the baby he's acting like and gets him settled properly.

"There you go," Eddie mutters, patting him gently on the head.

"Thanks," Steve mumbles, a surprised look on his face and a blush spreading across his cheeks, tapping the space in front of him in invitation for Eddie to sit and as much as part of him thinks it's a terrible idea, he knows if he leaves he'd be leaving him alone in this state and he just can't do that, so he sits.

"Hi," Eddie says, for a lack of anything else to say.

"Hi," Steve greets, a dopey smile on his face blinking owlishly at him, but then his face shifts like he's just remembered he's supposed to be annoyed with him, "Why'd you call me that earlier?" Steve asks petulantly.

Eddie frowns, he hasn't called Steve anything, at least not that he can remember, "Your name?" he clarifies.

Steve shakes his head excessively, "Mr Darcy!" he spits with a snarl, like it's a swear word, "You've been nice to me for weeks and then you went and said that!" he whines.

Suddenly the weariness is back in Eddie's stomach, tries to think why Steve might be insulted and comes up empty, "I don't know, does generous, kind and good looking not suit you?" he babbles before he can really think about how that sounds coming from another guy.

Steve's face does something complicated, he opens his mouth to say something, shuts it, his face changing expression, opens and closes his mouth again before settling on a confused but soft little "oh".

Now that he knows he's not about to get punched, Eddie relaxes a bit, and curiosity killed the cat or whatever because against his better judgement he asks, "What did you think I meant?"

Steve shrugs and looks forlornly at the ground, "What everyone else thinks. That I'm an elitist, condescending wanker. That you'd been being nice to me as a joke so it'd hurt all the more when you were mean. I got drunk because I was sad because I thought we were friends but you were just playing a prank on me," Steve tells him and there's such sincerity and pain in his eyes it hurts to even look at him.

But Eddie can't help it, he's beyond surprised so he can't stop his eyebrows hitting his hairline, "Friends?" The fallen king of Hawkins High wants to be his friend? Was hurt when he thought Eddie wasn't his friend? Cares at all what Eddie thinks about him? That's way beyond his comprehension.

Steve just smiles dopily at him, lifting Eddie's chin with a gentle finger to make Eddie look at him and it's like being gut punched because who'd've thought this sweet, vulnerable guy was hiding inside Steve Harrington this whole time?

"Yes, friends! Do you wanna be my friend, Eddie?" And all Eddie can do is nod because he's been thrown back into a memory long since forgotten, of two little boys playing together in the forest, games of pirates and cowboys and aliens and those same hazel eyes looking deep into his soul and asking that very same question.

Jesus H Christ!

A gust of wind blows through the yard making Steve shiver bodily but given his clumsy movements earlier, Eddie wonders how to get him inside without risking him falling in the pool, because everyone else has definitely already left and Eddie can swim but not well enough to rescue someone who's drunk and not fully in control of all their limbs.

But Steve for all his height and his muscles isn't actually all that heavy, not in comparison to band equipment, he could probably manage…

Eddie twists slightly away from Steve, "Right, hop on," he instructs, tapping his shoulder. Steve just gives him a puzzled look, Eddie smiles encouragingly, "I'm gonna give you a piggyback indoors. I don't want you to drown!"

Steve smiles then, really smiles, and if Eddie knew it was this easy he'd've done it weeks ago, and wraps his arms loosely around Eddie's neck and his legs tightly around his waist.

Eddie tries not to think too closely about it, he's known for a long time that he's queer, knows full well endearing, pretty jocks are his type, knows that tightening in his chest isn't because Steve is heavy but more because their cheeks are smushed together and they're sharing the same breath and Eddie can smell his aftershave and the beer he's been drinking and for some reason when it's coming from Steve it isn't making him want to hurl.

The house is an absolute shittip but whoever was last out at least had the decency to turn off the music and turn out all the lights, so Eddie just slides the door shut behind them and heads straight for the stairs. Steve grips a little tighter, leaning into Eddie making balancing easier but other than that he makes no effort to leave Eddie's grasp.

He's waddling up the stairs but only because Steve's long, long legs are in the way. A secret part of Eddie thinks about doing this regularly, having Steve this close, so pliable and snuggly. Eddie feels a little guilty about it but he can't help himself from filing the memory away for rainy days when he feels sad, it's just such a priceless moment, chances are this is never gonna happen again.

"Which one's yours?" he asks when they reach the landing and he's faced with several closed doors. Steve doesn't say anything, just sighs heavily and points Eddie in the right direction.

Eddie steps forward, twisting the doorknob, the door swinging open, and flicking the light on to reveal his room looks… exactly how Eddie expected it to and suddenly he can't keep the fond smile off his face, because of course Steve has plaid wallpaper and matching curtains, it's so cliche it's adorable.

He walks over to the bed, turns so he's facing the door and drops Steve unceremoniously onto the mattress making him giggle uncontrollably. Eddie turns back to watch him because how can he not? He made Steve giggle! It's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard, even when he breathes in too fast and he snorts, his eyes are all crinkled in the corners, showing off his dimples and his perfectly straight teeth, he really is just perfect.

Eddie tries not to let his affection bleed through onto his face but he must do a pretty poor job because when Steve opens his eyes to look at him, his breath hitches and he stops laughing. And Eddie kicks himself because the house is far too silent without Steve's quiet laughter. He needs to get out of Steve's bedroom but he can't leave without getting him some provisions for the morning. He glances around and spots the ensuite in the corner, nipping inside and grabbing a glass of water and a packet of paracetamol from the medicine cabinet, wandering back out to leave them on the bedside, dragging the wastepaper basket closer to the bed just in case.

Steve is now more settled in bed, head on his pillow, snuggled up under the covers, Eddie smiles, putting on his persona so he can make it out of here alive and hopefully with his heart still intact because if he gets any cuter Eddie isn't sure he'll be able handle it.

"Okay, my liege! Now thou art safely in thy bedchamber, I shall bid thee adieu," Eddie says with a bow, he feels okay about leaving him now he's got him all set up and safely in bed.

Steve grins at his dramatics but frowns when what Eddie said sinks in, "Wait!" he yells unnecessarily given Eddie hadn't really made any attempt to leave, even though that's what he said he was going to do.

Eddie's eyebrows raise all by themselves, reaching new heights when Steve pats the bed beside him, "Stay," he whispers and how is Eddie supposed to deny him? He can't even use Wayne as an excuse because the poor bloke's at work, all Eddie would be going home to would be a cold trailer and crap TV, how could that ever compare?

He tries to think of a reason because this is so far from a good idea but Steve wants to be friends and he so clearly needs a friend and Eddie can do that, he can be here for his friend.

"You sure?" he checks but when Steve nods vigorously in reply all his misgivings leave him, he sits on the edge of the bed as far from Steve as he can get, leaning back on his hands, looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

Except Steve doesn't say anything, he just gets a hold of his wrist and pulls knocking Eddie flat onto his back, his head landing in Steve's lap and it happens so quickly all Eddie can do is blink up at him. Steve smiles like he's won the jackpot and starts running his fingers through Eddie's hair like he's petting a cat and Eddie daren't even breathe let alone move but it feels so good his toes are curling in his Docs and when Steve starts to giggle again he realises it's because he's enjoying it so much he's making little noises in the back of his throat.

"Sorry," Eddie mutters but Steve just shakes his head fondly and continues his ministrations, just watching Eddie watching him but it's been a long day, between school and the party and Eddie can feel his eyes drooping no matter how hard he tries to fight it.

He isn't sure how long he lays there for but his legs have been dangling over the edge so long even his shins have pins and needles when Steve rouses him with a gentle tugging of his hand and a whispered "C'mon, get in!"

Eddie does as he's asked, absentmindedly kicking off his Docs and getting settled on top of the blankets, both of them laying on their sides facing one another.

"Night, Stevie," Eddie mumbles, already half asleep, only just feeling Steve place his hand into his own, interlinking their fingers and leaving a kiss on his knuckles with a whispered, "Goodnight, love."

(I hated this fucking ending so much because I did the typical thing of thinking of it without writing it down and not to give tmi but whilst in the shower I just remembered I wanted it to be "Goodnight, Teddy." and now I'm just mentally kicking the crap out of myself because I posted it with the wrong ending 😭😭😭 sorry @estrellami-1)

[lukam8]

Picasso

(not related to the Scorpion fanfic, and this is a oneshot.)

Being on the Nevermore baseball team was pretty nice... until one of the furs throws a ball directly at your arm, and half of the baseball team tackles you thinking they're playing fetch. The force of the ball actually managed to break your arm, and the literal dog piled thankfully only sprained your ankle. Now you're off the team and bedridden with 2 casts until further notice. Just great....

---

"So can you tell me why you have a feather and ink bottle? Not only that but why the hell are you in my dorm?" you asked as she placed the small ink jar on your nightstand, sitting down on a stool next to your bed. You lay with a pillow behind your back, allowing you to sit up with your arm on your stomach and your ankle propped up on a pillow, both arm and ankle in casts.

"Enid suggested I aid you on your road to recovery with a custom of decorating one's bandagedwounds. I was against the idea, but being able to see you saddened by the fact you can't play your sport fills me with joy." Of course, that's the reason she would be here; the girl who you have an athletic rivalry with is making fun of the fact you can't do any sports right now.

You sit up correctly before pulling back your sleeves and mockingly flexing your muscles. "Just you wait, Addams, I'll be back on my feet and kicking your ass in no time."

She chuckles before speaking to you. "I'd like to see you try, now let me be a 'dear friend' and help you." She looks at you, mischief laced in her voice as she grabbed the ink bottle and feather.

Your cheeks puff up slightly as you try not to laugh, letting out a small squeak as she looks somewhat menacingly. "I understand you're against technology and shit but if you want, you can use my markers, y'know." You point to a small rectangular chest behind her; the Minecraft chest had a wooden Minecraft sign above it labeled arts and crafts. She walked over to the chest, opening it to reveal a stash of neatly, organized art and drawing supplies. Wednesday is actually surprised at the fact that you, the athletic asshole she's rivals with, is a neatly organized artist.

"Well, aren't you full of surprises?" Her previous cold and dead expression was now replaced with one of surprise with a surprised tone in her voice to match. Although confident in her skills, the amount of art supplies is actually

"Grab the box with a character that looks like sun and moon wearing jester pants Wednesday." She spots a marker box with stickers of video game characters plastered onto it. She blinks at the box before grabbing it and slamming the chest closed, a painful low crack of wood being heard; You hug yourself as it physically pained you to hear that. Wednesday smiles at your pained reaction as she walks towards you.

"Music and misery to me. Now, how do these work?" You grab the box from her hands as she sits on the stool, observing your every move to learn these new tools. You grab a marker, shaking it to allow the ink that hasn't been used since baseball or swimming season started. A loud pop is heard as you take the top of lf the black marker.

"So it's basically like a pencil, but try not to press too hard on it; It'll mess up the ink and the tip. And if you press it softly but let it sit there, the ink will spread kinda like...", you brainstorm ways on how to explain it to Wednesday Addams. "It'll spread like blood on a cotton ball or gauze." The tip of the black marker presses onto the cast on your ankle. A small black ink spot slowly grows until you remove the tip. "Just like that, think of it as using colored pencils...or in your case, charcoal. My ankle cast will get taken off in 3 days, so you can use it as a practice board or canvas."

"Don't be surprised if I draw your anatomically correct bones all broken...with detailed internals." She paused and looked into your eyes with an evil glint before continuing to speak.

"Be happy I'm even letting you in my room dorm; I would've kicked your ass out a long time ago if you didn't come here to draw ponies on my casts." You flip her off while sticking your tongue out and smiling as she gives you her famous death glare. "But besides that, are you ok with me putting music or a podcast?" She looks up at you before continuing to draw on your ankle cast.

"Just nothing like enid's music or I finish that furs job on your leg." You switch on your speaker on switch to Spotify; you select a murder podcast which was quite popular for its gorey details and its voice acting of the victims and killers. You decide to start on your favorite cold case: The Axe-man of New Orleans.

"Can you get me the crocheting needles and yarn from the chest....please?" You stayed quiet as she stared at you before closing the marker and walking over to the chest she had nearly broken. Wednesday returns with a smaller chest closed with a metal buckle and an ingraved sigil on the top. She returns to creating her dark masterpiece on your ankle cast as you open the chest. You hold a ball of purple and white yarn as you stare into space, deciding whether you should crochet the mushroom yoko wanted or the rainbow unicorn enid wanted. You're broken out of your thought train when you look up and see Wednesday still drawing on your cast. How can you be somewhat bonding with the same girl who overthrew your 2nd place in fencing class and broke your lucky baseball bat? You start crocheting as she switches markers, slowly shading the reds together to get the perfect mixture of blood red ink as it drips from the skull she drew on your ankle. "I'm surprised you're that good, not gonna lie."

"If I could beat you in sports and academics, I can certainly beat you at this." She snaps back at you as the podcast ends with its jazz outro before continuing to the Black Dahlia case.

"That you sure can do Ms.Overachiever." She gives you a side glare before returning to her drawing on your cast. You can't help but stare at her features: her dark eyes fixated on her cast, her black hair in her signature braids, and her pale skin that would make others confuse her for a dead corpse. She's never looked like this when you both would compete in fencing, track, or any other sport of competition. Maybe because most of those times, she's had a deadly look on her face.

"Draw a portrait of me. It'll last longer." You snap out of your trance when she calls you out, your face becoming a blushing mess. A smile tugs in her lips before she falls back to her emotionless self. You look down and focus on crocheting when you realize you've been working this whole time as you stared at her. A small black grumpy cat was in your hands; a quarter of its head was missing as you thought about Wednesday and ways you could finish the plush. You grabbed the white yarn and replaced a quarter of the cats head with an exposed skull. You place the small cat that's about a foot tall on near your left side, hiding it from the goth girl's eyes. You grow confused when a scurrying sound is heard jn your dorm. Wednesday looks down at her feet.

"Why would you bring a first-aid kit to their room?...Enid exaggerated their injuries." She lets out an exhausted sigh before Thing scurried up to your bed, freaking you out a bit.

"Dude, I thought you were a dog this whole time Enid talked about you...crazy." You begin to bond with Thing as wednesdsy keeps drawing.

-----

A thundering rain rages outside as wednesday finishes her artwork in your cast. It's a lone skull with blood surrounding the jaw bones. She actually smiles to herself, very proud of her work. She realizes you haven't said a single word in the few minutes she's been here. Wednesday looks at your clock as she realizes she's been there for 3 hours. She grabs her backpack as she speaks to you.

"I must be going, I've missed my writing time with your childish art tools. But I do admit this was...fun." The goth girl continues to speak before looking up at you. Thing rest on your shoulder as your head leans toward him slightly, you hold a new plush with your broken arm. The plush of your favorite animal with a baseball hat rests in your arm next to the black grumpy cat with half its skull exposed. Wednesday puts away your supplies before looking at your sleeping figure. Her backpack clicks open as she rumages around for something.

"Thing, wake up it's time to go." The door to your dorm opens as she exits, not before she left a box of her favorite mint cookies there on your nightstand.

"You know they'll realize you took it, right? What do you need with that plush? I know for a fact it's something you don't need." Thing signs as wednesday walks back toward her dorm, the thunder outside being audible from inside Nevermore's brick walls.

"I'm simply borrowing it, nothing less." Thing signs, telling her she said the phrase wrong as she enters her empty dorm room, enid still out on her date with Ajax at the zoo. "I said what I needed to say, Thing. I don't need your punctuation." Wednesday places Thing and her bag on her bed before preparing for bed.

-----

You awake in your empty dorm, the lamp on your bedside on, and your blinds open, allowing you to see the dark night sky still sobbing a storm. "Wednesdsy? Are you still here?" You spot the cookies on your nightstand and see your clock behind it. Wednesday had arrived 4 hours ago, so you slept for 2 hours when she might've left. You sigh as you smile at the box of cookies, opening them as taking a bite of a mint cookie. The flavor relaxes you a bit as you look around, realizing you're missing the self-plush you had made. Yet the cat you made was gone; there's no way she would've... right? You turn off your nightstsnd lamp and clean the crumbs off of you. The warm heat consumes you as your blanket covers you. The brightness from your phone blinds you before you turn it down to its lowest setting. Clicking from your phone fills your nearly silent room as thunder rages outside with the rain knocking on your window. 'Hey, when you get to your dorm, check if Wednesday stole my plush. If she did, send a pick.' You sent Enid a text as Ajax entered your dorm, yawning a quick hello before entering the bathroom you both shared. The 'sent' at the bottom of your text turns into a blue 'seen'. The texting bubble appears before reappearing with a photo. You blush as your plush-self lays nicely on her black silk bed against her pillows. Your phone vibrates as you receive another text.

'Thatsssssss kinda cute >;)'......You ask for one thing and she attack you for it.

' T///T sthu, she just stole it from me, ok? Make a big deal out of it, and I beat Ajax's ass.' You smile as she immediately starts spamming text, begging you not to hurt her boyfriend. 'Okok I won't, night and tell me how it goes in the morning.' You each text a goodnight before falling asleep. You pull the plush close to your chest as you look out the window, the rain calming down slightly. You fall into a deep sleep once more before your phone vibrates one last time.

'Looks like she really likes "It", doesn't she? :)' A picture of Wednesday appears on your phone for a brief moment, her hands holding your plush like a bouquet; a beautiful corpse bride.

----

[bullet-prooflove]

This is the Year: Juan 'Juice' Ortiz x Reader

Part of @storiesofsvu Holiday Bingo! The square was Resolutions!

Tagging: @stydiaswish @goosterroose @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @darqchilddaydreamz

Juice doesn’t believe in New Year’s resolutions. He’s made them plenty of times over the years, but he’s never been able to stick to it. That is until he meets you.

He’s sitting on the swings by the clubhouse when midnight comes around, a beer clasped in his hand. His gaze shifts to Tig whose standing on the porch, his arm looped around Suzie’s waist, his thumb ghosting over her cheek. Those silver rings contrast against her skin as he tips her chin up and kisses her. There’s so much love between the two of them, there has been from the start and now the two of them have a baby.

Juice wants that, he wants to feel like he matters to someone, to love them and be loved in return.

This is the year, I do it. He promises himself as he watches the fireworks erupt throughout the night sky. This is the year he asks you out.

It started in late November in the botanical gardens. Tig had been doing a lot of treks across the country, smoothing out the Sons withdrawal from the gun game. Suzie was getting big, trying to finish up work at Cara, Cara before maternity leave started. She was finding it hard to walk Bonnie. Juice had offered to help out, he loved animals especially dogs. He’d started taking Bonnie to the botanical gardens. He’d read up on scent walks, how they were mentally relaxing for dogs. He thought that it may help with the healing process after everything she’d been through with the dog fighting ring.

The two of them had gotten into a routine. They’d go to the gardens, and she’d have a sniff around, explore for a bit before they played with the ball launcher. After that they’d chill under a tree, get some doggie ice cream, people watch and play tug.

They’ve been doing this for a couple of weeks before he notices you. The pretty girl on the bench with the sketch book. He’s always been fascinated by creatives, he’s more mechanical minded, good with his hands. It’s the reason he’s so good with computers and with engines, there’s something about them that just makes sense to him. He catches your eye, and you give him that smile. The one that makes his entire world light up.

It's April when the roses come into bloom, it gives the botanical gardens a new lease of life. Bonnie’s in her element, there’s new smells to explore. The dog has come out of her shell so much over the past few months that Tig’s asked him to continue with the dog walking. Both him and Suzie are busy with the new baby, they want to make sure Bonnie doesn’t get left out.  

It’s Bonnie that makes the first move, the gardeners have been rearranging some of the plants, adding new ones. You just so happen to be seated alongside of one of them, the lead slips out of his grasp as she takes off bee-lining towards it. He hauls ass after her, calling her name. When he eventually catches up, she’s seated in front of you, tongue lolling out of her mouth as you shower her with attention.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologises, scooping up the leash. “There’s a lot of new smells, she gets excited.”

“I get it.” You tell him. “My friend’s dog is the same. We usually come out here in the evenings, play a little, it’s a good wind down.”

“You like dogs?” Juice asks as he scratches behind Bonnie’s ears.

“Sometimes more than I like people.” You say with a smile.

He laughs because honestly, he feels the same way.

“Hey, let me buy you a coffee.” He says, tipping his head towards the coffee cart by the fountain. “You can tell me a little more about your friend’s dog.”

That’s how it starts. He learns that you’re an artist, that you teach adult classes at the local college throughout the day and some evenings. You come to the botanical gardens to get to some versatility, drawing nature throughout the seasons, sometimes you draw people. You flick through the pages of your sketchbook, showing him different depictions of the same space. It transforms throughout the year, sometimes the shading changes, you add shadows. It grows, it develops, it becomes something more.

“I prefer painting.” You tell him when the two of you head out on one of your evening dog walks. Bonnie and Misha, the Cockapoo are checking out the trail ahead as you walk side by down, sipping hot chocolates from the coffee cart. “I just love working with colour, seeing the difference it makes, the contrast.”

“You have such passion.” He tells you as his thumb chases up the side of the takeaway cup.

“What are you passionate about?” You ask him, your shoulder bumping against his.

“Honestly?” He asks, taking a gulp of his caramel hot chocolate.

“Yea.” You say with that enthusiastic grin of yours. “What gets you up in the morning? What do you live and breathe?”

“Engines.” He tells you, shrugging his shoulders as you laugh. “I don’t know what to say! When I start stripping down a bike and I put my hands to work, something in me just clicks. It’s like the whole world makes sense. I just focus on the task, the nuts and bolts of it and I don’t know…” he trails off for a second as he tries to find the words. “It’s soothing you know?”

“That’s how I feel about painting.” You tell him, your gaze on the two dogs as they snuffle in one of the bushes. “I couldn’t do it for a while, a couple of years ago and it drove me absolutely crazy.”

“I noticed the scars.” Juice remarks gesturing at your right arm. “You broke your arm at one point?”

“What’s Misha got?” You say, quickening your step before you call out for the dog to ‘drop it’.

The walks turn to dinner dates, which turn to late night bike rides because sometimes he can’t sleep, and he discovers that you can’t either. You feel so good against him, your arms wrapped around his waist, your cheek pressed against his back. It’s after one of these rides that you invite him inside and he knows it’s not just for coffee.

He makes love to you in fresh sheets, in a room that’s filled with canvases and colour. His fingers entwin with yours, your thighs hitching around his waist as he loves you like he’s loved no one else. Your fingertips chase over the scars on his back, the ones from where he was shivved in prison.

You know that’s one of the reasons he doesn’t sleep sometimes. He dreams about that day, of the shiv plunging into him, the blood dripping onto the concrete underneath his feet.

Your palms trail down the curve of his spine, caressing his ass before you draw him even deeper, and he moans into your mouth because until then he’s tried to be a gentleman but you…

You untether him completely.

It’s playful, sensual and soft. He smiles as you bite his lower lip because his baby, she knows exactly what she wants and it’s him. When you shatter underneath him, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He comes hard, his hips flush against yours as he drinks down your pleasure.

Another year, another New Year’s party.

Juice steals you away before midnight, breaking into the botanical gardens where the two of you first met. He lays down a picnic blanket so that you can watch the fireworks in peace.

It’s perfect, this moment, lying beneath the stars with the woman he loves.

He’s been carrying the ring around with him since he bought it a couple of weeks, just waiting for the right time and he knows now in his heart that this is it.

He says your name as he props himself up, withdrawing the ring from his pocket. You tilt your head towards him as he holds it up.

“Simone, I love you.” He tells you, the earnestness shining in his features. “Let me spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me.

“Juan…”

He just loves the way you say his name. You’re the only one that gets to call him that, the only one he lets call him that.

“Juan, I can’t.”

His world crashes in on him. The ring slips from between his fingers tumbling onto the blanket and getting lost in the folds. Everything goes numb, he feels the emptiness flood through his body as you reach for him, your thumb ghosting across his cheek. It’s just an intimate gesture, and it hurts so fucking much.

“It’s not you.” You tell him, your voice cracking. “It’s me, it’s entirely me.”

The story comes out in stops and starts and Juice’s heart breaks with every single word. You can’t marry him, of course you can’t, because you’re still married to the abusive asshole who used to beat the hell out of you.

It’s the reason you left Seattle and came to Charming.

You’d ran after he’d smacked you around so hard, he’d shattered your right arm. He’s the reason it aches when it rains, the reason you had to stop painting a couple of years ago.

“I never divorced him.” You tell Juice as you sit on the picnic blanket with your knees drawn up to your chest. “If I do, he’ll find me…”

Your eyes sting, the tears leaking down your cheeks. You let out a shaky exhale before you raise your eyes to the sky.

“It’s over, right?” You say as you use the back of your hand to chase away the tears.

“No.” Juice says quietly as he sits beside you. “Not if you don’t want it to be.”

“I can’t give you what you want,” You say softly, toying with the beaded bracelet on your wrist. “I can’t be your wife.”

He gathers you up into his arms, drawing you into the comfort of his body. If he could take this all away for you he would, but he can’t because your history is what brought you here to him. His love for you, that’s unconditional, it doesn’t matter what label you put on it. He’s yours, for better or for worse.

“I don’t need a wife,” He whispers against your hair line as he cradles you close. “I just need you.”

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