#i will lose the way the light bounces around my room and reminds me of being 14

[souhiyaoi]

i don't wanna move i don't wanna move i don't wanna move i don't wanna move i don't wanna move i don't wanna move i don't wanna move i don't wanna move i don't wanna move i don't wanna move i don't wanna move i don't wanna move i don't wanna move i don't wanna move i don't wanna move

[omgeto]

☆ SNEAKY LINK — dad's best friend!TOJI FUSHIGURO

summary: your dad didn't even need to tell you that his best friend was off limits, but you just couldn't help yourself. and on another visit home from university, he's the first person you get your hands on.

wc: 4.2k. (major slay from me)

cw: afab!reader, semi public sex, you fuck in a car, outside, he fingers you at the table, and eats you out in your childhood room <33 slight breeding kink, + your dad is clueless poor man so MDNI

an: was s'posed to write this yesterday but it didn't show up in the tags, so hopefully you guys can see this now and give it some love. never really done long smut before so give it a chance people!! fanks @kazushawty for beta'ing some, this is for you

there was always something about your dad’s best friend, toji fushiguro, that you just couldn’t ignore. your dad had loads of friends throughout the years, and you never batted an eyelid. so when your dad brought toji to dinner for the first time, you couldn’t just disregard the way he looked, more importantly how he looked at you—making you end up sucking his dick in the bathroom of your family home, before dessert was even served.

you were away at university, making your little ‘relationship’ with toji a fleeting one, but best believe whenever you touched your home city, toji always found a way to touch you. “so you manage to find y’self a boyfriend, up at that fancy uni of yours?” toji asks, a sly grin playing on his lips, as he starts the car, pulling out of the train station parking lot.

“no, none of them are to my taste,” you respond shortly, trying to keep your composure, and maintain your focus on anything but him. you knew why he was asking, just so he could feel his pride swell when you say no. since he was always quick to remind you whenever you fucked that after being with him you woulnd’t want a dumb little college boy—and he was right.

“aww that's too bad,” he mocks, his hand easing its way onto your thigh as if it’s nothing, “a pretty thing like you, should be basking in boys.” you roll your eyes at his teasing, but you can’t ignore the slight quickening of your heart as his hand gives your thigh a light squeeze.

you both pretend as if you aren’t fucking eachother anytime your dad was around, it was easier to keep up the facade that way. neither of you wanted to hurt your dad, toji actually enjoyed his friendship and would never want to hurt his ‘oh so precious daughter.’’ but when he pictures how your tits bounce and how your ass shakes whenever he drives his dick into you, he was okay with losing a friendship if that meant he could continue to fuck you.

the rest of the ride was a comfortable silence, there was no more small talk, just the faded hum of the radio and your thoughts racing as toji’s hand remains on you. you were finally parked in the driveway of your home, “thanks for the ride home fushiguro,” you mumble, ready to leave his car. 

“fushiguro? were you not calling me toji last time you saw me?” he questions puzzled, his hand laying on your arm — stopping you from exiting the car, as his mouth comes up to your ear, “ whilst i was stuffing you full with my dick?”

“can we not do this here?” you grit out, trying not to react to the feeling of his touch, you look around the driveway and see your dads car parked right in front of toji’s. “my dad’s home.”

“so?” he shrugs, tugging against your clothes, “c’mon you know you wanna give me a little something before i leave.” you roll your eyes, reminding yourself that you shouldn’t be fucking your dad’s oldest friend — especially not when he’s only ten metres away. but the look that toji gives you, the lustful glint in his eyes, and the way his thick fingers toy with the hem of your jeans, you just couldn’t say no.

“make it quick,” you whisper, looking around your surroundings before pouncing on toji. the windows of his car weren’t tinted, but your neighbourhood is a quiet one, so as long he fucked you swiftly, you shouldn’t get caught.

“i don’t know why you’ve got this pouty look on your face,” he smirks, watching as you eagerly get yourself out of jeans, not fully, but just enough so that you could slide right onto his dick. “you want this just as bad as i do, don’t you?”

you didn’t bother responding, letting the way your pussy clenches around his throbbing member, be the answer to his question. there's a shared moan between you, with toji throwing his head back onto the headrest as he watches you ride him. his hands grip onto your ass, aiding you in bouncing up and down on his dick.

“c’mere,” he murmurs, his hand moving up off of your ass to lightly grip your chin as he directs your mouth to his. he kisses you sensually, the slow pace matching the rhythm of your ass grinding against him. your arms snake their way around his neck, your hands stroking the hair that falls just above his nape. 

“f-fuck,” you moan against his mouth, your boobs press against his chest as he thrust into you deeper. he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, suppressing your increasing screams, as his hips dig into your ass further. 

“y’better quiet down princess,” he mocks, pressing a quick peck to your lips, his smirk growing wider as he watches you chase his mouth, whimpering to have more of him. “you don’t want your daddy to hear us and come outside d’ya?”

“‘don’t care,” you whine, rutting your hips down against him, wanting him to stuff you full, to fuck you hard, not caring about who hears or sees you.

“oh you don’t care do you?” he continues to taunt, his fingers roaming across your chest — toying with the buttons of your shirt. and as you nod to his question, your pussy clenching down around his dick achingly, he grins, “get out of the car.”

“what?” you pause, trying to register if you’ve heard him correctly.

“you heard me,” he shrugs, his hands going to your hips to take you off your dick, “get out of the car, and lean right up against the hood for me.”

“you’re joking right?” you scoff, staring at him in shock, but his gaze is locked with yours without faltering, oh he was serious alright. “but what about my da—”

“what about him? you didn’t care about him seeing us a second again when you were slutting yourself out on my dick did you,” he continues to taunt, his thumb rubbing against your aching clit, toying with the folds of your soaking pussy — persuading you. “now i'm not gonna tell you again, get rid of the jeans fully and lean against the hood of my car.” 

he didn’t have to say anything else after that, the way he was playing with your pussy reminded you of what need. so you quickly get rid of your jeans, and get out of his car, a giggle escaping your lips as toji’s hand collides with your ass. 

you lean against the hood of his car, your arms stretching against it in excitement as toji comes behind you, palming your ass before stroking the slit of your pussy with his dick. he doesn’t even give you time to breathe before shoving himself back inside of you. his hand coming to the back of your neck to push you down, as he charges his dick back inside of you. 

“you like that?” he grins, as he drives into you deeper, the squelching of your dripping pussy around his dick, music to his ears. you nod, eagerly, too dick drunk to formulate a sentence —content in just rocking your ass back against his hips ready for him to cum inside of you.

“t-toji ‘m so close,” you whine, begging for that final push so you could reach your peak, “please j-just let me cum, i-i need to cum.”

“i’ll let you cu—”

“toji buddy! is that you?” you both pause, frozen in place as you hear your dads voice from the inside. you scramble apart from one another, toji pushing you off his dick and zipping up his pants, trying to regain his composure as he catches his breath. you dive back into your seats, aggressively shimmying into your jeans, panicked. ‘fuck toji for making me take these all the way off,’ you think to yourself, as you awkwardly pull your jeans up. you check the rear view mirror, to try and not look freshly fucked as your father nears the car.

“dad!” you exclaim, giving your father a hug and sending a quit look to toji that reads ‘shut the fuck up.’ your dad returns your hug with a tight squeeze.

“hey sweetheart, was toji here giving you a ride from the station?” he asks, a joyful smile on his face

“yeah i was giving her a ride alright,” toji mutters, his innuendo going straight over your fathers head as he looks back and forth between you, clueless. “she was showing me all the new things she’s learnt at uni, and boy has your daughter learnt a lot.” he flashes you a wink, that your dad misses, and you quickly glare at him in response.

“oh she’s a smart one isn’t she?” you dad boasts, practically parading you off and toji nods in response thinking to himself, ‘if only you could see how dumb she gets filled with my cum.’ 

you swiftly exit the space between your father and his friend, hoping that toji just leaves, although you didn’t get to finish, nearly being caught by your dad, panicked you. you give toji a brisk nod as a goodbye, as you grab your bags out of the car but you pause as you hear your dad ask him, “so, are you staying for dinner?” it was going to be a long night.

you spent the rest of the evening avoiding both your dad and toji, you couldn’t trust yourself to be around both of them without letting something slip. toji had just as much to lose, if your dad did find out about your activities, but that didn’t stop him from giving sly comments and looks just to see your scared, flushed face whenever you thought he was going to say something about it. 

when dinner starts you knew you were going to fold, fast. toji was sitting next to you, but his gaze was fixed on you with a teasing glint in his eyes. his mouth drops to your ear as he whispers, “doesn’t this remind you of when we first met? you teasing me all night before dropping on your knees for me in the bathroom upstairs.”

“what are you two gossiping about over there?” your dad asks as he enters the room with your food, and you immediately tense up hearing his voice, shifting away from toji to not give yourself away.

“oh i was just reminding her about when we first met at dinner all those years ago,” toji responded quickly, his composure kept cool as if he wasn’t just talking about you sucking his dick minutes ago. “a lot has changed since then.”

“yeah, my baby has really grown up and matured since then, haven't you?” your dad coos at you and you give toji a subtle elbow to his stomach under the table. but toji just can’t let up, enjoying your jumpy vibe a bit too much.

he nods in agreement with your dad, “yeah she’s really become a woman, right under our eyes.” he taunts, and only you knew that he was referring to how he felt that your body was built just for him. toji loved every inch of you, your face, tits and ass was a complete package that he just couldn’t get enough of. 

unbeknownst to your dad, toji’s hand slips underneath the table and right into your pants. your eyes cut towards his, and he the subtle raise of his eyebrow tells you he’s not gonna stop —and you weren’t planning on trying to stop him. 

you open your legs wider, to grant him further access, smiling along at your dad as he cluelessly babbles on to the both of you. toji was both attentive to the conversation and to your pussy. to anyone else it wouldn’t look like his fingers were curling up inside of you, your cunt coating his fingers as he slowly drives them into you.

as dinner continues, your hands remain clenched on your cutlery as you try and distract yourself from the growing feeling you were getting as toji rubs your pussy. he was casual about it too, laughing and joking with your dad as if his fingers weren’t getting drenched.

you were trying so hard to not ride his fingers in your seat, to not let your father see you getting slutted out by his best friend right in front of him. the thickness of his fingers were stretching your pussy wider, and his pace was achingly slow, to sensual for the burning desire you’ve been craving for him all day. but there is nothing you can do, and toji knew tha. the slight smirk on his face and spark in his eye was telling to the fact that he was aware of how badly you need him, and was amused by the needy little look on your face that you poorly try to mask.

“so how’s that boyfriend of yours?” your dad asks you, his question snapping you out of your dazed state. you choke slightly on your drink since you didn’t actually have a boyfriend but you couldn’t exactly tell him about the special guy you are seeing.

“h-he’s…great,” you respond, your voice faltering as you could feel toji’s eyes burning a hole in your head. his fingers pinch against your clit, punishingly and your eyes bounce between your father and him.

“we should have him over for dinner soon,” your dad suggests excitedly, “so we can all meet him.”

“yeah sure dad,” you lie, hoping that is enough to appease your father. but it definitely didn’t appease toji, he swiftly removes his fingers out of your pants, and he sends your a glare when your father wasn’t looking before going back to eating his food—with both hands.

dinner was a silent affair after that exchange, there were no more subtle sly comments from toji and your dad had worn out all the possible stories he could share about you. so you finish your meal in silence, your pussy still throbbing hard.

“that was a great meal as always,” toji compliments your dad, getting up out of his seat, “do you mind if i use the bathroom real quick before i head home?”

“yeah my home’s your home, do as you please,” your dad grins at him, “i’m gonna go and do these dishes, it was good seeing you,” your dad presses a kiss to your head and gives toji a handshake before heading to the kitchen.

with your dad now out of sight you could now see toji’s face and he was tense, to say the least. he was standing in the threshold of the door and all it took was the raising of his eyebrows and a shake of his head for you to know that he wanted your ass upstairs with him quick.

he led you to your childhood bedroom and he was already toying with the posters of random anime that you had plastered all over your walls, “cute.”

“toji i thought we agreed to not do this in the house anymore?” is the first thing you ask. after you first met and made a mess of your household bathroom, you both agreed that it would be easier if you just didn’t fuck in your house anymore to save the chance of your dad catching on. but it seems after today, toji couldn’t care less.

“a boyfriend huh,” he spits out with a bitter chuckle, turning to look at you, “what happened to ‘none of those boys are to my taste.’” 

“they aren’t,” you persist, folding your arms childishly as you try and get your point across. he doesn’t even respond, just raising his eyebrow at you in disbelief, thinking about your conversation with your father. “do you really think i could tell my dad about the real guy i’ve been fucking all this time? ”

he shrugs in response, his anger settling a bit in knowing now that you didn't actually have a boyfriend. “i didn’t peg you as a jealous type, in case you forgot, you’re the family friend not my boyfriend. so if i was to actually let one of these college guys date me, that’ll be okay.”

“oh it would be okay would it?” he mocks, stepping closer to you, “so i’m just this family friend, not the guy you slut yourself out for whenever you see me?” you couldn’t deny that, so you remain quiet, your heart pulsing as toji nears you. 

he grabs your hand and shoves it right down his pants so you could feel his throbbing dick, “y’know i’ve been hard for you all day, after your clueless dad had to ruin our fun earlier i’ve bursting to cum,” his dick pulses in your hold, emphasising his point, “and now it turns out that all i am to you is just a family friend, damn.”

“i didn’t mean it in that way,” you say, slightly regretting your choice of words, “i just think it’s a bit silly of you to be getting wound up, at your big age, over some hypothetical boyfriend when all we do is fuck.”

“at my big age? the fuck, im not even that ol—” he stops himself because he knows he could say whole lot that could have you crying quick. “i’m gonna let you have your little outburst here, but i did not drag you upstairs for this.”

“and what did you drag me up here for then?” you quiz, his dick still feeling the warmth of your hand. his arm snakes around your waist as he presses you close, your tits rubbing right against his chest. 

“well y’know i’ve been dying to fuck you in your bedroom,” he murmurs, he leads you over to your bed, chuckling as he pushes you down next to your stuffed animals, and childish shit that you’ve kept. he pulls down your jeans as he kneels down at the edge of your bed, a wide grin etched across his face, “i’ve been wanting to keep you out of these all fucking day,” he says as he flings your jeans across the room. 

“don’t forget your dad’s downstairs and we can’t let him ruin what we’ve got going on can we?” he pulls your down the bed so your pussy’s closer to your face, he snaps off your underwear and peppers a kiss onto your clit. you hiss at the contact of his mouth on you, and his eyes look up at you, “so you can be quiet for me, right?”

you nod eagerly, clenching your eyes as his mouth suctions onto your clit, biting and nibbling at it. you hold your lip between your teeth to keep yourself quiet, already gripping onto his hair to steady yourself. he’s barely done anything yet and he’s already got you losing your mind.

he drags his tongue down your wet slit, lapping up the sweetness from your pussy. you sigh harder, the grip on his hair only getting tighter the more his mouth works on your cunt. toji laughs as he taunts, “‘you’re just a family friend toji,’ yeah seems like it.” 

“s-shut up,” you pant out, clenching your thighs around his head as tongue inches deeper and deeper into your pussy, his nose pushed right into your arousal, breathing in every bit of you. “y-you are just a family friend.”

“whatever,” he smirks, watching as your mouth part as he plunges his fingers into you. he keeps his mouth on your clit, as two of his fingers piston in and out of you. you can’t help but thrust your hips up in his direction, aching to feel him deeper. 

“toji w-what are you—” you start to ask as he pulls his fingers out of you, just before you cum. 

he grins in response, popping one of his fingers in his mouth before saying, “you’re just too sweet y’know? come on taste yourself.” and before you can even respond properly, you were already sucking on his finger, smiling as he coos, “see how tasty you are?” 

he rids himself of his jogging bottoms, his dick springing out of them, hard and throbbing. “my balls have been aching to bust inside of you all day,” he complains, as he mounts you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his back, your arms snaking behind his neck. “but you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“yeah please toji,” you whine, desperate for him to get his dick inside of your dripping pussy, “cum in me please, i just need you.”

“want me to cum in you yeah?” he smirks, as you shake your head, your hand moving down to his dick but he slaps it away, continuing to tease you, “gonna let me put a baby in you, right?”

“anything you want, just please.” you say, clawing at his back. but that’s all he needs to hear, as he shoves his dick into you with all his force, your eyes widening at the feeling. but as he quickly sets into a rhythm, you can’t help but moan out as his dick drives into you hitting the right spot, every single time.

he puts his mouth on yours to silence you, pecking your lips with kisses as he says, “you know you gotta be quiet for me princess, can’t have your dad hearing how im fucking my kids into you.”

“s-sorry i just c-can’t take it,” you apologise, your eyes rolling back as his lips move down from yours onto your neck. bruising and biting at it, with his teeth.

“oh but you can take it” he praises, “your pussy takes me so well, always such a good girl for me.” he bites back down on your neck harder, as you clench around him, the throbbing of his dick partnered with the gushing tightness of your pussy had him getting sloppier and sloppier with every stroke. 

toji’s hand slaps down on your clit, making you slightly jump up against his dick as it continues to charge into you. he tugs at your clit before swirling it and pressing down on it with his thumb. loving the way you gasp at the contact, scratching at him as your pleasure grows.

“f-fuck toji, please, i need to feel your cum,” you beg, and he presses his forehead against yours, as your hold around his back and neck become stronger. his dick ploughing into you with his unforgiving pace was becoming too much for you to handle, you wanted to feel his load deep inside of you. “lemme have it.”

“i-i’ll give it to you princess dont worry,” he reassures, stammering slightly as he could feel himself going to bust. this was his favourite sight of you, all fucked out under him, your eyes practically springing with tears as you beg him to finish inside you. it was only an added bonus that you were doing this on your fluffy pink sheets, literally right under your dad’s nose. “you’re such a naughty girl for this. what would your dad say if he could see you now?” he continues to tease.

“i don’t care what he’d say. i am a n-naughty girl. i wanna be your naughty girl.”

“yeah you are, you’re absolutely filthy,” he jeers, giving you his last thrusts before saying, “fucking taking in the cum of your dads best friend, begging to bred. not very ladylike if i do say so myself.”

“t-toji please,” you call out, fed up with his teasing. and he laughs before taking your mouth into his biting on your lip hard as he releases into you, plastering your pussy walls with all his cum. you do the same, your cum mixing with his as you release onto his dick. he slumps his body over yours, pressing kisses to your faces, satisfied as he thrusts his dick into you further to try and ensure his cum doesn’t slip out.

“ah, if only i could stay here for the night, i’d keep you plugged up with my cum and really get you pregnant,” he jokes, finally pulling out of you, amazed by how cum of his and yours ran down your thighs and pooled onto your bedsheets. 

“want you to stay,” you mewl, your arm stretching, reaching out for him.

“no can do princess,” he sighs, he actually wants to stay with you too, there’s nothing better then ending the night freshly fucked with his dick cushioned by your pussy all night as he sleeps. he presses a final kiss to your head, and grabs some wipes to get rid off the cum stuck to your legs, before leaving the room as he promises, “next time we’ll do it at my place, yeah?”

AN: So what do you think of dads best friend!toji 🧍🏽‍♀️ this was meant to be apart of a broader part of the sneaky link smut but then a little drabble turned into a full fic. BUT THIS ACTUALLY MADE ME NERVOUS TO POST SINCE IM STILL NOT FEELING MY SMUT SKILLS YET. But it shall come with practice.so yeah lemme know ur thoughts

[freaksun]

eddie doesnt let anyone touch his hair. ever.

it reminds him of his late mother, who had the same gorgeous untamed curls. She used to comb his hair when he was little, being ever so gentle and taking her time brushing out the knots.

his father made him feel less-than for just about everything about him, including his gorgeous mane. Called him awful names and always told him to ‘cut that fairy shit’ when it grew too long.

so, ever since she passed, and his father went to jail, hes been growing it.

unfortunately, she never taught him how to take care of it, she’d always just do it herself. So, he doesnt put product in it, he doesnt cut it, he doesnt even brush it. And, stubborn as his mama, he doesnt let anyone else touch it either.

then you come along, happy and sweet, always loving to everyone. he falls in love with you so fast he hardly even notices. you certainly dont either.

one hot summer day you’re both in his room, you on his bed, him pacing, frantically explaining some sort of nerdy campaign idea. you dont know, you havent been listening for a while, too distracted by the way he keeps wiping sweat from the back of his neck. you cut him off rudely, he doesnt mind

“hey eddie?”

“sweetheart?”

“whens the last time you got a haircut?”

he freezes, silent, which is very out of character, dude never shuts up.

“uhh. like a few years ago. why?”

its your turn to be quiet, suddenly all coy. he finds you absolutely adorable as you stare at his floor, trying to find a way to ask him without startling him. as if he were some wild animal, which, he basically is.

“just.. immm noticinggg its kinda matted in the back…”

you try to sound the least accusing as you can. he doesnt seem offended but you can tell hes thinking.

“well, yeah, i. i guess i just havent touched it since. well my mom used to do it for me”

you feel like an ass, touching on something you shouldnt have, making him all quiet and sad. you backtrack.

“jesus, eddie, im sorry i didnt mean to-“

“its okay angel, i know”

he sits next to you. you give him a nervous smile, still sweet, hesitantly reaching for his curls. you can tell he’s hesitant too, but he nods, granting you permission. you take a single strand between your fingers, twirling it.

“Its so pretty, eds. ..would you let me? take care of it, i mean?”

hes scared. but youre so sweet and youre asking so nicely. a part of him is scared if he lets you, he loses another part of his mom. but the other part is staring into your eyes and seeing nothing but genuine affection.

“i.. i guess you could.. try.”

his heart pounds in his chest. You absolutely beam, thanking him immediately and bouncing around the room, looking for a brush. he laughs, shaking his head. you watch as he rummages through his closet, before handing you a light pink brush. you think about teasing him for it but he already looks vulnerable. you smile sweetly instead, taking it from him.

“sit” you point with the brush. he does as you say, running his hands up and down his thighs in a self soothing motion.

“its okay eds, you dont have to be nervous.. ill be gentle i promise” he gives you an unconvincing smile. you return with a guilty one, downturned. you kneel in front of him, in between his knees, brushing his bangs with your fingers.

“we can stop whenever you want, okay?” his cheeks are bright red as he nods timidly

you move to sit behind him, and run your hands through his curls gently, admiring it. you take a part, hold it at the root, and brush gently.

“that feel okay? tell me if it hurts” ever so sweet.

“mm-hm” you can feel his nervousness. “you- you remind me of her, y’know”

youre pretty taken aback, but honoured nonetheless. you keep brushing through the mattes in his hair as you talk.

“Yeah? Wanna tell be about her?” youre not sure if its the right thing to say, but you figure he probably hasnt told anyone about her. you can practically feel his energy shift.

“she was sweet. loving and kind to everyone, like you.” you both smile. “and she was pretty. beautiful. i really miss her.” you stop, rub his back a little.

“i can only imagine.. im sorry eddie.” he turns to face you, smiling.

“s’alright sweetheart. thanks for letting me talk about her” he hugs you. you hug him back, tight.

“hows the ole hair going?” He asks when he pulls back, a joking tone to lighten the mood.

“good!!! ive gotten the mattes outta this chunk here, it looks good. your hair is really beautiful, eds” youre ecstatic and it travels to him.

“thank you. my mom had the same hair.” he smiles, turning back around to let you continue.

“i bet she was really gorgeous.” youre extra-extra gentle. He keeps talking and you keep working. He tells you about how she smelled, the softness of her voice, his favourite memories with her. he tells you about the last time he saw her. he tells you all the things hes been holding inside, everything he never got to tell anyone, never trusted anyone enough. and when hes done, his hair is untangled and soft.

you smile proudly, running your hands through his hair, marveling at your work.

“its done” he whips around, looking at you with wide excited eyes

“really??” you nod, smiling wide. he runs over to the bathroom to see for himself. You stand behind him, peeking over his shoulder in the mirror. Hes surprised, looks like he might even cry. you wrap your arms around him, leaning your head against his arm.

“do you like it? Its a little poofy, but you can wash it out and it’ll look be-“ he cuts you off by turning around and hugging you. he hugs you tight, lifting you up.

“thank you.” you can tell he really means it.

[moremaybank]

SOMETHING STUPID — s.h

pairing steve harrington x fem!reader

summary steve's overwhelmed by the love he feels for you and blurts out a question he can't take back. he's sure you'll think he's crazy, but do you?

warnings language, but it's basically just a whole lotta fluff and steve being the cute cutie he is

author's note did i pull inspo from haley’s dad’s speech in oth?? hell yes. also, i'm really happy with how this turned out, not gonna lie. please read if you have the chance, it'll make my day ♡︎

steve masterlist

When Steve steps through the door after work with an exhausted sigh, he’s pleasantly surprised. He’s spent his entire life coming home to an empty house, always filled with a blaring silence that acted as a daunting reminder of how lonely he felt deep down inside. There was never anyone around to ask him how his day was. What was going on in his life, or if he was happy — and not the phoney kind. 

He’s so used to weathering the storm on his own, day in and day out, that he’s completely forgotten someone will be there for him this time. The previously empty home is now occupied by you and your bright, loving energy. The quiet was replaced with your music bouncing off the walls. You’re active in the mostly untouched kitchen, baking to your heart’s content and constantly stuffing your Stevie’s face full of sweets. 

Steve finally feels as if he truly has a home, and not just a place where he stores his belongings and rests his head at night. 

He makes his way through the halls, finally reaching the entryway to the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe. The dimmed lights glow throughout the room, and the artfully scattered candles burn brightly in the darkened space. Further adding to the already homey atmosphere, the sweet aroma of fresh baked goods fills the air, thanks to the chocolate chip cookies you have baking in the oven. Even with all of this going on, though, Steve can only seem to focus on one thing. 

You. 

Your frilled socks glide against the kitchen floor as you jump and twirl around on the tiles. The sound of Say You Love Me by Fleetwood Mac quells the silence, your record player turned up the highest it can go (because, in your professional opinion, there was no other way to listen to music). You pull out your signature dance moves, screwing your eyes shut and kicking your legs in the air so many times that Steve fears you’re in an imaginary fight with someone — and losing. Terribly. He also takes notice of the spatula in your hand, acting as a stand-in microphone while you lip-sync along to the lyrics. 

You’re a goofball, through and through. Still, though, Steve is utterly smitten.

“Sweet moves, baby,” he says, loud enough to be heard over the music. 

Your eyes go wide as your body stills, completely mortified that Steve has caught you in your own little world. You turn the music down, swiping the stray hairs away from your slightly sticky forehead and clearing your throat. 

“Steve! H-hey. I was just, uh…cleaning the floors. You know, makin’ them all nice and shiny for you,” you laugh uneasily. It’s complete crap and you both know it, but you’re desperate. Frankly, you’ll say anything if it means distracting Steve from this whole performing your own world tour in the middle of the kitchen thing. 

Steve cocks a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he tries to hide the grin that threatens to come into view. “Hm,” he hums, “cleaning the floors, huh?”

“Yup.”

“…With your socks?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, still slightly breathless, “It’s a…great way to incorporate exercise into daily household chores.”

Steve tries to stop it, but he can’t help but let a laugh escape from his lips. He walks over to you, arms wide open and ready to encircle around you. “C’mere, you goof. Gimme some sugar.”

You break out into a grin, happily stepping into your boyfriend’s embrace and giving him a tight hug. You feel his hands smooth down your back before wrapping around your waist and holding you tighter to him. After a moment, you pull away, and your hands come up to his face so you can press your lips to his. He hums into the kiss contently, melting into the touch he’s been longing all day for. 

“Missed you so much,” Steve pouts, his bottom lip jutting out adorably. 

“I missed you too,” you reply, granting him another kiss. “How was your day?”

Before Steve can answer, Say You Love Me comes to a stop, and the soft sounds of Landslide begin to bleed into the silence. Choosing to let you enjoy your favourite song, Steve shrugs it off, “We can talk about that later, wanna dance with you.”

Steve extends his hand toward you, silently asking for you to join your hand in his. You smile, sliding your palm into his and letting him pull you to his chest. He keeps his other hand on the small of your back, and your free arm curls around his shoulder as the two of you begin to sway together in time with the music. Steve feels you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and relax further into his hold, and he lets the voice of Stevie Nicks wrap around you both like a warm blanket as he holds you. 

The two of you sway back and forth, taking a peaceful moment to feel your hearts beat against one another. Steve never wants to let go. This is the closest and most intimate he’s ever felt with anyone, and that should scare him, he thinks. But it doesn’t, because being with you feels like heaven on earth. He can’t believe that he’s found someone who makes his heart soar the way you do. Who makes him smile so hard his cheeks hurt, and gives him a love so deep and true that it’s become a vital part of him. Just thinking of you makes his knees weak.

He’s completely enamoured by you.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, breaking him free from his thoughts as you pull away from his grasp slightly. 

Steve looks down at you, remaining silent, and his gaze flashes over your features. The kind eyes he feels he’s always known. The tiny scar near your temple from where you’d gotten stitches as a child. The curve of your lips and how he swears he can feel them gliding over his own every single time he thinks about them. He then moved onto the oversized t-shirt your body is clad in — one you’d obviously stolen out of his closet, and the pair of boxers hanging from your hips (also swiped from his wardrobe). Your aforementioned frilly socks pulled your signature at-home look together, one that brought an incredible amount of comfort to Steve. It shows him that you consider his home to be your home too. That you’ve found a home in him, just as he has with you.

He can see himself doing this whole life thing with you forever, and he can’t explain it, but he suddenly feels compelled to speak up, and the words tumble from his lips before he can stop them. 

“Do you wanna get married?” 

Your head shoots up, and you peer up at him with a look of shock. “I’m sorry, w-what?”

Steve’s eyes threaten to bulge out of their sockets, and his heart rate skyrockets as the panic waves through him. “Oh god, I- I said that out loud,” he says, slowly letting go of you and running a hand through his long chestnut locks. “Wow. Uh— Okay.”

“Did— Did you just ask me to marry you?” You stammer, quiet as a mouse. You don’t move. Steve doesn’t think you can. 

It’s obvious that you think he’s gone certifiably insane. His hands raise in defence, and he manages to start blurting out everything he can in an attempt to rectify the situation. “Listen, baby, we can totally act like that never happened—”

“Steve—”

“—In fact, it didn’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about, babe. No freakin’ idea—”

Finally, your hand cups over his mouth to stop him from rambling any further. His last few words sound muffled before they eventually come to a stop once he realizes what’s happening. His fingers curl around your wrist, moving your hand from his lips before giving you a small, sheepish smile. His cheeks flush profusely, “Sorry.” 

Oh, the things Steve would do if it meant he could take back the last few minutes of his life and go back to before he opened his big mouth and ruined everything. It’s not that he doesn’t want to marry you. That’s definitely not the case. But the regret he’s currently feeling after watching your horrified reaction play out…it’s enough to make him want to jump into his pool and never come back up for air. 

But then…when your eyes seem to light up and a small smile curves your lips upward, he thinks there just might be some hope left for him. 

“You wanna marry me?” You questioned, your hands finding solace on his lower arms. “Why?”

His brows pull together in confusion? Why? He can see the doubt eating away at you by how small you’ve become in the past few seconds. Are you truly doubting how much you mean to him? How much you’ve spun his world on its axis and changed him forever? 

“I— What?” 

“Why would you want me to marry you?”

“Yeah, I got that, I just…are you serious?” You nod, giving him the slightest shrug. Your shyness is peaking through far too much for you to offer him any more of a reaction. 

A soft and gentle laugh slips past his lips and his body relaxes. His warm palm smoothes up your arm and finds its resting place at the base of your jaw. His thumb swipes over your skin, and his warmth bleeds through your flesh. All the love he holds in his heart for you floats up to his eyes, and his chocolate orbs soften. He’s never felt so tender and full of affection as he does now. 

“You have no idea how special you are to me, do you?” 

He says it with such conviction that you know the words are true to his heart. Still, the way they hit you is all too much, and you can’t help but deflect them with a tiny joke. Your eyes fall away from his. “I mean, I figured you liked me a little.” 

“Stop,” he chides, albeit gently. He guides your gaze back onto his. “I’m serious.” 

It’s your turn to apologize as your cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. Just, hear me out.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

His left hand mirrors the hold his right one has on your face. The ring you gifted him for your first anniversary is cold against your skin. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he takes a breath before speaking. “You— You’re staggering, honey. You’ve given my heart a home. You’ve had it since the moment I met you, and you’ve kept it safe. Cherished it and nurtured it. You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted. I— I look into your eyes and it's like I can see the rest of my life inside ‘em.” 

Your heart melts, and you feel the tears start to pool in the brims of your eyes. “Steve,” you whisper. 

“I have no idea what’s going to happen in the future. Not a freakin’ clue, especially with all the supernatural shit that goes on in this town. But I do know that you’re supposed to be in it. You are my future, baby. I might not know a lot, but I do know this. You are the girl I’m going to spend my life loving. And I’m gonna give you everything if you’ll let me.”

His heartfelt words are almost enough to make you forget about your doubts. You want them to. But you can’t seem to quiet the worries circling inside your head. 

“Steve, I love you. You know I do. But, aren’t we too young? I don’t want to risk losing you. I don’t think I could take it if I did.” 

His hands slide down your neck and land on your shoulders. His warmth spreads through you again, and already, you feel better. It’s almost as if all he has to do is exist to wash your fears away. 

“I know. I know we’re young. But, so what if we are? To me, that just means I get to be with you even longer.” One hand abandons your shoulder, and he hooks his index finger under your chin. The pad of his thumb strokes over the tip of your chin. Eyes boring into your soul, he holds them captive. “You can drive at sixteen, drink at twenty-one, retire in your sixties. How old do you have to be to know that your love will last? ‘Cause I know my answer, down to the second.” 

You can’t seem to hide the smile that forces its way onto your lips. The sincerity in his gaze, the vulnerability he’s shown you since day one, it’s all too much. You can’t imagine ever walking away from him, can’t imagine what your life would be like if he wasn’t in it. Mornings you shared where he’d pout as soon as you mentioned getting out of bed. Picnics on warm summer days. Hearing him sing along to the radio in the car. You want those memories and every single one that would come to you in the future — your future with him. 

“Ask me again.” 

“Yeah?” He smiled. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed. But just as he’s about to do as you asked, half of the words leaving his mouth, you can’t contain the excitement. Your lips slam onto his as you pull him closer. You murmur a few yesses against his lips and feel them spread into a grin. Soon, his arms are wrapped around your waist and he’s lifting you up and into the air, spinning you around with joy. The kitchen is soon filled with giggles, and Steve is exclaiming your news loudly, even though you’re both alone.

“We’re getting married, sweetheart!”

STEVE TAG LIST (JOIN HERE): @oncasette @taintedxkisses @findapenny @bmo-bri @hemogloban @slytherhoes @shawnspoems @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @earth2starkey @aerangi @cantstoptherecs @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @cilliansangel @darleneslane @sya-skies @gillybear17 @lovelyxtom @rcbuttercup @redhead1180 @runningfrom2am @thejuleshypothesis @scarlettocean @subconsciouscollapse @violetmacher @iluvteyqmm @buckyisveryhot

[h0ck3yl0v3r]

sparks fly

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

lh43 x childhood!bestfriend

warnings: none?!?!

she missed him, and he missed her. with hockey season starting he was a mess. they had gotten paired together for a project in their english class. it was awkward, none of them knowing what to say.

The way you move is like a full-on rainstorm

And I'm a house of cards

they sat in class trying to figure out the topic they should research about. still no words spoken, luke couldn’t help but admire her as she worked. the way her hair kept falling in front of her face, and how she bit the top of her pen from nerves, and the way her eyes were so beautiful.

And you stood there in front of me

Just close enough to touch

Close enough to hope you couldn't see

What I was thinking of

after an hour right before class ended, the two finally found a topic to research on. they settled on how miscommunication can affect ones life. ironic isnt it he thought.

“hey y/n” luke said trying to catch up the girl in a hurry to get back to her dorm.

“what do you want luke.” she said turning to look at the youngest hughes.

“i was wondering if maybe you’d wanna meet after my game, you don’t have to go to it but i figured itd be best if we talk and clear the air since we got paired together.” he said in one breath looking down at her looking for a response.

“okay.” thats all she said. “okay, ill text you after the game, bye y/n.” he said softly, “bye luke” she whispered softly watching him leave.

Drop everything now

Meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk

Take away the pain

tonight was a big game, the game against msu. yost was packed, luke was in the locker rooms trying to prepare himself for the game but all he could think about was the one girl who truly made him happy that he hurt. as for her, she was finding her way through yost being dragged out of her dorm by her roommate who was dating one of the players.

as the team skated out for warm ups all the girl could think about was when she’d always attend lukes games, how cute he was in his element, how passionate and focused he is once he hits the ice. she couldnt help but notice how the lighting brought out his green eyes, and how his small smile still has a hold on her.

'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down

Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around

the game ended well, umich winning and luke scoring a hat trick, during his third goal in the third period he finally saw you, pointing at you during his celly. your heart melted at that, almost forgetting entirely about why you were mad at him.

My mind forgets to remind me

You're a bad idea

luke quickly finished changing back into his normal attire as you waited for him outside the locker rooms.

once he came out he gave you a small smile which you did the same back.

“care to go for a little walk m’lady?” he said and you couldn’t help but laugh and nod.

you guys walked in a comfortable silence before taking a break on a bench near his dorm.

“congrats by the way, you did amazing tonight.” you said looking up at him a d he smiled whispering a soft thank you.

“i know i said i wanted to talk to clear the air because of the project but it’s more than that.” he said and you nodded for him to continue “im sorry for everything, truly. i miss you so much it physically hurts and i know its not fair the way i treated you, i don’t expect you to forgive me but i just want you to hear my side of the story. i pushed you away because i thought you deserved someone better, someone who could be there all the time, and to have someone you wont have to worry about having to leave one day and do long distance. but in reality i did it to protect myself, because im in love with you, and i didnt want to have to face losing my best friend, or the heartbreak of when i have to leave for the pro’s but i realize now all i want is you, my whole life, its been you.” his voice cracking and leg bouncing from anxiety. you placed your hand on his knee softly rubbing it to comfort him. “lu, i thought you didn’t like me because you became so distant and went after so many other girls, so i never said anything to protect myself, i was so in love with you, the night i left i had cried to quinny, i thought i never had a chance so i pushed myself away too. but im still so in love with you, no matter how much i try to push it away” you said softly as he cupped your face caressing it softly, “i thought you knew, i gave so many hints” and you looked at him confused, “remember all times in high school when guys tried to hit on you and i immediately scared him away, or whenever id call you after a bad game, or when all i ever wanted was to be with you so i came over for like three days, holding your hand or cuddling watching movies that it came to a point my mom had to drag me back home. i thought you knew.” he said tears now falling softly down both of your faces. “im so sorry lu, i never picked up on any of that, i thought it was just because we were best friends.” he wiped your tears away “we were always more than best friends, so much for miscommunication huh? we better get an A on that project” he joked and you couldn’t help but crack a smile and laugh. and as the clouds began crying too, for the first time luke hughes kissed you. the most soft passionate kiss ever. “i love you.” he said pulling away resting his forehead on yours “i love you luke hughes.”

And the sparks fly

-

taglist: @drysdalesv @shy4turcs @ghostfacd @jackquinnswife

[seikkoi]

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴏᴜʀ [1, 2, 3] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 10k

“I have not been meeting with Steve.” you scowled behind gritted teeth. Balled fists return to your side. Pin-point daggers shoot back, unphased.

It’s an absurd notion on its own, that you betray him in the slightest. You also know you’ve had sneezes last longer than that conversation–how the hell did Tony know about it?

“Try again.” He doesn’t return your heat in his voice, leaving that to be felt through his grasp. 

“Fine, I ran into Steve, but come on, you seriously think I would–”

“Not sure what to think given how easy it just was for you to lie to me.” 

“You’ve been lying to me from the start!” 

You pulled yourself from his grasp, tossing the bag onto the island. Cream marble and translucency make for wonderful camouflage, almost losing itself in the light entirely.

“I’d hardly call my personal habits comparable to sneaking around.” 

Adrenaline does what it knows best, keeping you pliant and pissed. Two things that erode rationalism like rust. The iron spreads to whatever argument you would’ve made had there been more time to prepare. Or sense to see the mosaic pattern here. Time stills for no more than a few seconds–and that’s all Tony needs.

“So, go ahead, please. Tell me more about what I should think .”

He says it so permissively, you might have obliged if his jaw loosened even a bit to do so. That tiny breadth of space is stalked through by shiny leather oxfords. You’re given a not so pleasant reminder of his stature when he's in front of you again, more overwhelming than before. The cool stone island digs into your back. 

“Here I was actually worried something could have happened to you–turn’s out you’re searching for, what , exactly?” 

The reversal almost worked, really. The reminiscent guilt came back as it always does. You felt the same way for wanting to leave back in California months ago. Even all that time ago in that dimly lit boutique. Tony showed you time and time again how much he loved you– wanted you, and here you were, finding another reason to push him away.

You were so close to giving in. The marble’s nearly swallowed the powdery bag whole by now, for it takes you longer to see the plastic outline bouncing back at you. 

Tony waits, hands tucked into the pocket of his suit pants (in a very deliberate attempt to hide his own unease). His eyes still bore back into you like a hawk, and you wanted to surrender to them until their pin-point, reddened nature dawned on you. Then, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the tempo beating fast your own. The shake in his hands when he held you in place.

To Tony, you meet his eyes with something far more heart-piercing than anger, and he gets a sick feeling of deja vu. You wouldn’t know–his face stone cold from years of practice. But this close, you can see something worse. 

“You’re wasted right now .” 

You don’t bother making it a question (it’s a quiet scoff). Nor do you bother to wait for the response he’s struggling to muster. Decades of life yet he lacked a great deal of experience in getting called on his shit.  All the air seems to leave the room, saving just the few breaths you have remaining in your lungs. 

“We’re done.” 

You use them wisely, calmly , even, to head for the elevator and as far away from this as possible. Despite the fact your ears are ringing. Don’t ask where you find the willpower. You push past him, rather easily because Tony moves for the sanctity of his shoulder and knee. 

Your fingers go to grace the brass buttons, but Tony crosses the threshold with far fewer steps and positions himself between you and the opening door. 

“ Move , Tony.” you say sternly, though it feels ridiculous raising your voice at someone whose gaze you have to look up to meet. 

“Don’t want to keep Mr. America waiting, of course.”

“Seriously?” you scoff, eyes rolling. “You’re still on that?”

“I don’t know, you still wanna lie to me?” 

“How many times do I need to tell you–”

“I know you were with him, so you can cut the bullshit.”

“I told you, I ran into Steve. That’s . It. ” you respond, making another move for the button just for Tony to shift an inch to the left. 

“You two looked very cozy outside that bar. Let me guess, he ordered a Manhattan and you just couldn’t say no.” 

“For god’s sake, no . He came out while I was waiting and asked me not to tell you–end of story.” You’d hoped that added details would be enough to assuage him–at least to move out of your way.

“So, you decided all on your own to rummage through the bathroom?” 

As many of his questions tend to be, he already knows the answer. Even still, the look you give is telling on its own. 

“I mean, really–” he chuckles dryly, “Please tell me what is so special about him that you keep trusting him over me.” 

“He, for one, isn’t controlling or watching my every move–out of the way, Tony.” you repeat, exhausted. 

Tony’s eyes dart down to the elevator panel he’d done such a phenomenal job of blocking, before glancing back at your pleading face. That seems to do the trick, because he presses the call button himself and gestures open arms into the small space. 

“By all means, knock yourself out.”

Shocked, but without another word, you enter. As you turn and press L for the lobby, you expect Tony’s irate face staring back at you.

Instead, you catch the patterned fabric lining the back of his suit vest as he walks away.

Once the elevator doors shut, Tony loses his last semblance of composure. 

A sheer crystal serving tray by the stove behind him, topped with an array of ornate glasses, is thrown straight across the kitchen where it crashes to a million pieces at the plush living room rug. 

He truly does not enjoy your penchant for storming off today or any other day.

Today is the worst, though, for two reasons. One, he’s not certain that letting you leave was the best move in the long-term. Two, you promised never to do this in the first place–you fucking promised. 

Another innocent bystander (this time a glass pitcher) joins the pile in the living room. 

Stuttery hands brace the counter. It’s of little effort for him to keep a hardened facade in the face of anger, but now that you’re not here to see it, the stone mask cracks. Shame, guilt, anger and that sneaky trickster known as self-righteousness blend up into something new entirely. There’s no pride in this for him, truly. 

The billionaire was so certain when he saw the photos. You and fucking Rogers of all people, talking so close. Paranoia and a lack of reasonable perspective means his first thoughts are not pleasant in any shape or form. He wasn’t controlling , everything he did was preventative. This was self-confirmation (and a shit ton of jealousy). You’d simply done the thing he was most afraid of. 

Or it was the thing he was most afraid of. 

The counter stays tight under his grasp until his hands sport two fresh indentations, cursing himself and trying not to think about how breakable the chandelier is. 

Just as he was sure of the photos, he was sure of you . You wouldn’t leave him, you were here to stay, you wanted him–right? 

Only now under the cool touch of marble does he realize those ideas could never possibly co-exist. 

No one as good to him as you would betray him, you wouldn’t. But you could reach the breaking point he sought so heavily to avoid in the beginning.

All alone in his tower built atop money and bad habits, the chandelier is spared as the great Tony Stark starts to break instead.

That is until he remembers he isn’t alone.

“Jarvis.” he calls out, and the older man emerges from the hallway no louder than a mouse.

Don’t feel embarrassed, the walls and loyal ears have certainly heard worse. Discretion is 90% of his job after all. In fact, right now he’s pretending not to notice the tears running down Tony’s face.

“Find out where she went.”

Tony keeps his head trained to the countertop anyway, just in case. Jarvis turns to follow through his instructions, but stops as soon as he starts. Decades of serving the Stark family is enough to know he’s probably better off holding his tongue. He speaks for your sake.

“Sir, I suspect she went home.” 

At this, the wetness is dried by his shirt sleeve, already grabbing his coat to follow you. 

“Sir,” Jarvis quickly interjects, Tony’s fingers on the call button. “Might I suggest…waiting until the morning?” 

He doesn’t need to say why. Tony can guess well enough.

You actually had no destination in mind. The thought of home felt disgustingly empty, and the reminder that you only still had it because of Tony would definitely stay persistent. You couldn’t bear to think about what you might've done to pay for it otherwise. Going to a friend’s would require an explanation you absolutely could not give. For a while, you wander just as before. You must look insane to the people passing by–makeup definitely stained and running.

A rudimentary pros and cons list is drafted, revised, deleted, and drafted once more. Sure, you didn’t have a slew of loves to compare it to, but you knew the one you had for Tony was irreplaceable. No one ever made you feel this wanted , this loved , this special .  No ex of yours left a dozen roses by your door–or waited in the car for hours while you slept. They didn’t fill their lacquer kitchen cabinets with herbal teas just because you mentioned liking them once . Hibiscus and rooibos flooded Tony’s kitchen so long as it kept you happy . Every other relationship was a caustic whirlpool. Tony was a dizzying fantasia. You gleefully closed your eyes so many times that the thought of opening them made you nauseous. 

You swallow stale bile and keep walking. 

The dusky hue in the sky grows to a fine oceanic blue above you until you gain enough sense to go home. Out of spite (and totally not because you have no other way), you take the subway home, cheeks raw from the night’s sharp wind on your tears. 

Your heels clank awkwardly on the metal descent, echoing on the platform. It’s empty, sharply different from the vamping nightlife outside. It’s not long before your train hustles down the track, stepping on to an disturbingly, equally empty train car. 

You slump into the first empty seat you see. In a calmer mood, you might’ve bothered with your phone, instead staring into your reflection on the glass pane. The gentle rocking starts soon after, and you work on putting your mind somewhere besides bergamot and red. 

Tony does not like waiting.

He would be working, if he could find even a shadow of concentration. All he can think about is you– the grit in your voice. 

At some point in his marathon around the penthouse, the small pile of glass is quietly cleaned away. Out of sheer boredom (and latent regrets), he considers creating a new one.

Why would you leave him– how could you leave him? 

In the idle night hours, pacing from room to room, Tony almost wishes you had cheated on him. Then, he could be right. He could skip past silly little thought pieces over his vices addiction and fly straight to indignity. It wouldn’t be his fault, would it? He wouldn’t have to explain a damn thing to a world that didn’t care for him.

Everyone betrayed him in the end, even you. 

With enough clarity, he might be able to see the shame hiding under all that self-righteousness, but alas. Years of practice and all. 

The best he can do for now is scalding admonishment. 

And a pinch of paranoia that his own actions caused Steve to seek you out–again. Tony knew the soldier was stupid, but that would be moronic . He made himself perfectly clear this morning, no shot Steve chose this as the method for exacting his revenge. It wasn’t a well-guarded secret amongst Tony’s circle that you were to be left ignorant, you weren’t like them . Really, he’d purposefully (and harshly) informed this as much. If Steve wanted to embarrass him then he failed succeeded miserably. The fact he would even attempt such a thing is the greater offense. 

Tony’s self-indulgent, not an idiot. Even under watered layers of complexes, he knows the greatest offense lies ten feet away on his kitchen counter. In fact, it’s what keeps him awake through the night. Awake and thinking–thinking about how fucking flawlessly he was keeping everything under wraps. This infallible image he crafted for you was gone. No longer could he hide behind a glass barrier of false separation. Foolish Tony–believing a second chance would come so freely. 

He made the same mistake twice. The odds he’d get a third chance were slim to none. At the time, he felt lucky to even have Pepper. Clearly he’s doing something worth rewarding on this Earth, because then he found you. Or, alternatively, God realized what a disservice he’d done by walking missile Tony’s way in the first place. 

You were invaluable. Nothing like his playboy flings or one-night stands. From the moment he laid eyes on you he knew his life would never be the same without you.

You promised , and he intends to make good on it even if you won’t. 

Tony can’t recall the last time he waited for a damn thing in his adult life (much less to sober up), and he doesn’t care much for starting something new today. Then, he remembers just how much patience he has for you. He waits for you patiently as you oggle every mural, piece of street art, or weird boutique. He waits as quietly as can be while you sleep, and he waited months for you to feel comfortable enough to spend consecutive nights at his home. 

There’s a pit growing in his chest–one screaming that his hard work might be swirling down the drain. How stupid he was for letting you storm off. With each passing second, you were sinking further from his grasp.

To hell with waiting. 

After all, he’s Tony Stark –he’d deny himself of nothing he desired. He didn’t work this hard to settle for less than that. 

In his defense, he does attempt to do the courteous thing of calling before showing up randomly in the middle of the night. Your phone, hopelessly abandoned deep in your purse, rings to no answer. It totally doesn’t make him more irate. 

One extremely lonely, and infuriating train ride later, you make it home. You jump when a knock vibrates through your apartment–though you know there’s only one person who’d show up in the middle of the night. Still, you tiptoe across the living to peer through the peephole anyway. While you were not super enthusiastic about seeing him outside your door this soon, the defeated slump in his shoulders gives you some satisfaction. 

A very brief, stereotypical through-the-door conversation ensues. You shout for him to leave, to which Tony provides the usual platitudes to just open the door and you respond further with a stout fuck no .  You roll your eyes at his continued pleas, and turn for your bedroom. He could sit out there and talk to the door all night like a madman if it suited him, but you weren’t going to spend a precious second on this earth listening to it. 

You don’t even make it past your couch before you hear what you swear to god cannot be your lock turning. God, Buddha, and everything else divine must have been busy, because Tony stands in the entryway, illuminated by the kitchen stove light. 

“Have you lost your mind ? Where the hell did you get a key?” 

He shrugs and looks around like it’s obvious. 

“The lease holder is usually given a key, especially if they’re paying.” 

The aghast scoff can’t wait to leap from your throat. 

“You know what, fuck you .” you spat, flying past him to the door. “No good deed , huh?” 

Somewhere between you storming out earlier in the night and his decision to come here (or maybe walking up the creaking stairs) he seems to have gotten the impression you were in a joking mood. There’s nothing but sweetness in his voice now, yet you still can’t trust that you know where his head’s at. Your night had been tumultuous enough without him showing up. 

Your fingers just barely wrap around a cool metal knob, the hall light leaving a thin warm line on your face. Tony braces a heavy palm above your head the second it does, closing it shut with a frame wobbling thud . 

“A bit rude to run out on me twice, don’t ya think?” he smirks, looking down at you. 

“A bit rude to force your dirty money on someone then hold it over their head, don’t you think?” you mock, stupidly trying to pull the handle open a second time, unbudging against Tony’s palm, biceps testing the elasticity of his silk shirt. You were getting tired of constantly feeling trapped. 

You wish you’d stay far away, in the safety of the living room where citrus didn’t take you over. Where that hopeless little part of your brain could stay quiet and not scream to wrap your arms around his torso. Also because the door doesn’t move a fucking centimeter, so it was a waste of energy regardless. 

“If you wanted someone who’d let you work yourself to death or end up on the street, you should’ve called that guy from your high school reunion back. You know–the real handsy one with the mohawk.”

“I’ll get right on that if you move out of the fucking way.” 

“Please, like I’d ever allow that.” Tony laughs, and you’re wondering why you appear as some sort of one-woman comedy act by every man in this city.

“What the hell do you want? I told you–I’m done with this.” 

He ends his chuckle with a tsk , leaving you in the living room to sit at your kitchen table. The feet of the metal chair make a discordant screech across the linoleum and he turns the seat towards you before sitting. 

“You don’t mean that, honey.” Tony smiles, tapping his shoes against the floor.

“I meant it.”

He gestures back towards the entryway.

“Nothing but space and opportunity to run away again, what’s stopping you?”

“You just said you wouldn’t let me.” You’re giving it your all not to shout, to scream at him for how insane this is. If you were still at the tower, you might not have bothered–far away from neighbors with loose lips and thin walls. 

“I’d never allow you to waste your time with someone else. Storm off as much as you like–that won’t keep you from me.” 

It’s all cool words and charisma, with a sickeningly violet weight that flips your stomach. He’s far across the space, and the door is still within inches of your grasp. 

“Find literally anyone else to sit here and play this game with you.”

“What part of ‘ I want you, and only you ’ do you not understand?” 

The kitchen stove light still illuminates his figure, casting a dim shadow over his back to shadow his figure across the floor. His feet continue to tap idly, head resting on his palms as if confused to why such a statement even needed to be told to you (again).

“You were getting along just fine before you met me, go back to that–I don’t want any part of whatever the hell else it is you’ve been lying about–”

“I’m not letting you go.”

That sweetness is his voice is pushed out to make room for pure desperation. The words waiver as they leave him, clearly fighting against whatever instinct wanted to hold it in, though you can’t help wondering if that’s all that caused the shake. An air of silence falls, where he watches you from the kitchen with stabbing eyes. Walking away is logical, but something unnatural freezes you in place. Plus, you’re not certain he wouldn’t fly to the door again the moment you touch it. 

“Why me?”

Another short silence and this time you’re the one to take advantage of it, louder than you needed to be.

“And why accuse me of sneaking around? I barely even spoke to him how the hell did you know–”

“Were you not?”

Your nostrils flare, nails digging into tight wound palms.  Water droplets leave the kitchen faucet in out of time drips. This is why your fingers shook and bore a million typos to correct. Lying to Tony Stark was one of the stupidest riskiest things you could do. 

“I just needed time to think–”

“To play Nancy Drew..” He corrects. It’s not tempered, just matter-of-factly–like a lawyer pointing out bad evidence.  

“I needed to see for myself–” 

“ Asking totally wasn’t an option.” Tony meets your volume with too much ease.

“Like you would have told me the truth !”

“I’ve never lied to you–”

“Oh, right , you only speak in half-truths, or say it’s nothing to ‘concern myself with ’!” Your anger pulls you across the creaky floors of the entryway, feet tethering on the wood boundary lining off the tile of the kitchen. 

“You’re not–”

“That’s the real reason Pepper left you, isn’t it? Not any of that bullshit you tried to sell me L.A–she left because you play like some larger-than-life billionaire and not the shady piece of shit you are.” 

You don’t have to continue your slow stampede into the kitchen, as the chair makes another unsettling screech on the tile when Tony suddenly stands. An indignation only complimentary to your own is expected, but it isn’t what you get.

“I didn’t come here to be judged by you.” His mouth barely moves to say it–as even the slightest parting would cause him to shout back and have the fight you seem to be dying to have.

“Why the hell are you here?” A better phrased, more favored question in your opinion would have been ‘ why did you break into my apartment after I dumped you? ’, but the answer’s surely the same.

Tony can glare down lasers at you as much as he likes, he’s not getting his way (for once)–you aren’t crumbling (for once).

“I need you.”

That disgusting, heart-string tugging desperation comes back and it turns out you still haven’t built your defense strong enough. You’re taken aback, because you had prepped for a full blown argument. You had enough ammo loaded up to keep this going all night. But somehow, it’s a heavier three-word declaration than I love you .  It’s not a murmur or with a racing chest. 

And it is wholly true. Life had him placed on a giant, constant stage. Where he needed to be someone else–someone stronger and with rougher edges. It kept him enclosed. Where everything he hated about himself was reflected in everyone and everything around him. That kind of cycle is self-feeding. A snake gnawing at its exhausted tail for eternity. It was a spur of the moment decision to stop for a drink that night. Truthfully, he had more than enough already coursing through his veins, but the tower felt emptier than usual in his mind, and this career warrants you very few friends. 

Maybe it was the flickering neon signs–glowing brand names across the sidewalk. The bustling noise flooded the rest of the quiet street like an overflowing bucket. It was a grimy, crowded hole in the wall–small, and cut away from the sprawling residential neighborhood around it. It reminded him of his life before he fucked it up. When no one knew his name or where he came from.

You were just an added bonus. He had planned to relish in the chaos of everyone around as he drank for inebriation instead of taste for once. But dark red nails pass him the glass, and he finds himself stuck watching them for the rest of the night. Despite the man Tony was, he wasn't anyone to you, and a woman like you shouldn’t have been anything to him.

He comes back simply out of craving. That anonymity , that freedom. From responsibility, from judgment. Tony realizes he’s befriended the snake too long. He accepted everything around him as a product of fate and piss-poor luck.You changed that. You made him remember a long forgotten fact–that everything he wanted was within arms reach. 

Suddenly, your eyes take great interest in grout speckling the tile below. There wasn’t enough room for disbelief in the quaint walls of your apartment.

“You’re the only person who doesn’t see me, as–I don’t know, me?” he exhales, running over his face as he re-takes his seat.

“You,” you trail off, shoulders loosening just to earn a small tremble. “--actually mean that.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

You’re gathering the bravado to say something along the lines of ‘ well asshole you were high as a kite when you told me you loved me and never said it again ’. Maybe without the asshole part. A difficult act indeed.

"I didn’t sign up for any of this." you murmur, trying to quench any further questions and avoid a very stern ‘ I told you so ’. But Tony's gaze remains fixed on your arm, making your nerves spike. “–if I had known everything, your work–”

“You wouldn't have agreed to see me, really ?” Tony grins and cocks an eyebrow that you miss in your deep inspection of the tile. “You weren’t clueless when we met.” 

“I wasn’t but–”

“But what?” He sharply interjects. He can’t stand how your eyes land anywhere but him. This conversation is giving him deja vu, and not the whimsical kind. It’s the kind that wraps around the body and stops the flow of blood.  “All of sudden you wanna have a ‘ come to Jesus ’ moment and find some moral high ground?”

Tony’s, unsurprisingly, not wrong. You had good enough sense the moment he slipped into that barstool, asking for a whiskey list as if the knife-shaped tear in the cushion couldn’t tell him that was pointless. A brief glance and finger of Jack Daniels was all he got from you. You spent the rest of the hour catering to the usual Friday night crowd of drunks, only thinking of him again when the shiny green bills made a funny reflection underneath his empty glass. 

Honestly, you were more surprised no one took it for themselves.

It’s when he shows up a second night that you bother with conversation (purely out of gratitude and nothing else, right?). It’s the second night when you stay so, so much later than you should have, talking to someone you knew you shouldn’t be. You ignored it all then, just as you have for the last eight months. Burying your worries under a mountain of attachment and clouds of insecurity. 

You were lucky. Shit, you feel that same gratuitous pang right now. Grateful that he still wanted you. Actually, to put it in his words– needed you. You’re not certain how much longer you could’ve kept it buried if you hadn’t asked Steve directly. You didn’t want him to be right, but all he did was validate every worry and order a swift excavation of everything you hoped wasn’t true. 

“I kept telling myself that it was nothing, but–”” you trail off quietly.

“ But ?” he repeats.

You definitely can’t meet his gaze now, waiting for him to call you naive or tell you that this is somehow some huge misunderstanding. He doesn’t speak, though, and you can’t stop your mouth from opening under the weight of everything spinning in your head.

“But Steve says you’ve been doing this since you were in college.”

“That’s how Steve tells that story?” He scoffs.

“Come on, what else? Lay it on me, doll.” You watch a misshapen shadow stretch the length of the kitchen as Tony makes a dramatic beckoning of the hand.

“Why? So you can figure out what you don’t have to admit to?”

He takes a deep sigh that shifts into a short chuckle.

“You’ve been told a very half-cocked story, my apologies for trying to fix that. Trust me, Steve’s had it out for me for a while now.”

“I trust him a lot more than you right now.” 

“That would be a bad choice.” 

You snap your head up at the scorn. Where you gained this inclination to shoot back at everything with fire–you don’t know. You swear it’s just Tony, where sometimes you just want to match his arrogance tenfold.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that? I’ve learned more about you from him and so far, he hasn’t been wrong.”

“You know more about me than anyone, without running around behind my back.” 

“Yeah, there's just the woman you’re still married to, the cocaine in your bathroom, your company, whatever the hell it is you do while I’m sleeping because you surely aren’t–”

“Alright, alright, okay,” he interrupts, tossing his hands up in defeat and leaning back. “Would you just sit down for a sec–humor me, will you?”

Sullenly, you pull out the matching metal chair across from him. As you sit, folding your arms over your chest, you wonder how fate has aligned that you’ve met such an infuriating and intoxicating person. And why you were even giving this hail mary display the time of day. 

“Let me tell you a story, it’s a good one, swear.” Tony flashes a diamond grin and it takes everything in you not to return it. It does cool your nerves somewhat.

“Better be a good one.” you respond, and Tony promises it’s worth hearing. 

“I’m in my last year at MIT taking this exam for this real stick-up-his-ass professor–I’m talking this guy doesn’t have the muscles required to smile, just all nonsense. It’s my last godforsaken test before winter break and I’ve gotta pass this to be done with this soul-sucking school–”

“You? Stressing about school? Already this story’s got holes in it.” 

“Did you miss the part about this guy being a hardass? Because I could’ve sworn I mentioned it.”

“The test was all about theory and it didn’t matter how much you knew, you had to answer it the way he would. I actually had to focus for once and I’m on this question about integrating quantum computing with electrical grid systems, you know how the ions might–”

“Totally, right.” you remark once you realize a science lecture is inbound. Tony’s ramblings often came late and always flew completely over your head. Tonight, you’re just finding it hard to care. 

“You are a really bad listener, you know that?” 

That earns an instinctive smirk from you, but you sigh and let him continue.

“I’m ten equations and at least five paragraphs into this question and my pager starts going off. I don’t even bother checking what it is–I just hit silence and keep going.” he tells it like it’s a true epic, the sort you swap at tailgates or weddings to try to one-up someone else’s, but you get the sense it’s not. 

“An hour later with like, the worst cramp in my hand and 500% certainty I failed, no big deal, I finally check the message–call Jarvis back and he tells me my parents were in an accident. The weirdest thing was I didn’t even think they were dead–” 

“Tony–” you start, though you weren’t even sure what to say. 

“Honestly,” he chuckles dryly, the bravado in his voice silking away. “I was kinda relieved, for a second. The old man would’ve ripped me a new one for failing that test and I just thought he was a little banged up–too busy nursing a broken arm or something to check my grades.”

Tony’s laugh fades off into a somber sigh, shifting in the wobbling chair. The count of drips in the sink to your right tells you it’s been silent too long. You still don’t have the words to fill it. What kind of words would they even be? Of comfort? Humor to dispel his sadness? If he even was , that is. You gave up on trying to read him. 

“Anyway, my point is . I wasn’t ready to do this– I was 21, getting an electrical engineering degree, notice how that has nothing to do with medicine or biotech. So I did the cowardly thing–let someone else take the wheel and I’m still paying for it twenty years later. Believe me, I’m not loving this either.”

“Then why don’t you stop? I mean you still have a legitimate company, stop using it to make things you don’t want to make.” 

“It sounds so incredibly simple when you put it like that. Gee, wonder why I didn’t think of that earlier.” He makes an exaggerated face of amazement. “Look, I didn’t want you to know because I don’t need someone else telling me how to handle things–it’s my company, it’s my job to sort this out.”

“Does your job require you to test the product yourself?” It’s a lot ruder than you mean it to be, but it’s the real issue corroding your mind. 

“That’s one of the benefits we offer at Stark Industries.” he laughs. 

You still aren’t feeling humorous, scoffing and standing the moment you realize he isn’t taking a word you say seriously. Tony’s fast behind you, stepping between you and the arch into the living room. 

“Okay, okay. But you’re worrying yourself over nothing, doll. I’ve got it handled.” he assures you (poorly), bracing your shoulders with his hands. 

“Yeah, from here it looks totally handled.”

Contrary to the snare in your words, you weren’t a heartless monster. You weren’t playing moral adjudicator like Tony might think. You can recognize this as one of his rare moments of emotional theater, but you can’t be bothered to care knowing what comes after if you fall for it. Especially when you can tell from how not-serious he’s taking this that there’s not a chance he’d stop using anytime soon. You were just tired of being lied to. And you weren’t going to keep watching him self-destruct. All you needed right now was your bed and hot, long shower to put this day behind you.

Tony sighs, abandoning your shoulders to pinch his nose.

“It’s just…You experience things and then they're over and you still can't explain 'em. This business, Pepper, things I can’t even put into words. I...I'm just trying to make sense of it all. The only reason I haven't cracked up is probably because you’re around a lot more. Which is great. I do love you, I'm lucky. But, honey, I can't sleep, not when there's so much to be done to get out of this.”

You’re stunned into silence again. Because Tony speaks a thousand miles a minute and you’re still getting used to hearing ‘ I love you ’ from a sober mouth.

“Tony, this isn’t–” you stammer.

“I know, I know, you’re gonna say this doesn’t change anything but I can’t do that without you, I won’t.” 

Calloused hands brace your sides instead. Warm and loose instead of strict and holding. You can feel the static though. There’s an electric heat jumping between fingertips and white fabric that wants to hold you tight until you can’t tell the difference between his skin and yours. You’ll never see it another time so clearly, but the glaze in Tony’s eyes is desperate– unyielding . You’re scared to give in and only slightly less worried about what it means if you don’t.

You were pissed that he kept something from you– again . You still were. The whole world seemed privy to exactly who Tony Stark was, except you. You were an outsider looking in through frosted window panes. Like the new kid watching everyone else giggle at an inside joke you couldn't possibly understand. 

But you couldn’t say he didn’t care for you. The most damning part was that you loved him . Whether it was truly reciprocated was another question, but you couldn’t think of any other reason he’s standing in your kitchen at three in the morning, letting the stained brown walls wash out the blue details in his suit vest. 

So, you rather than blindly submit, you place a wager. 

“Then promise me you’ll get help.” You force your voice to be stable, confident. You meet his eyes with the same bravado, stepping back from his grasp. If done properly, and he needed you as much as he so claimed, then you win your self-made bet.

You notice he doesn’t reach out to hold you close, instead staring pensively into you for a moment longer than you would like.

 “Okay, done.” he answers, shrugging nonchalantly. “That all?”

“Really? That simple?” you ask, baffled

Tony shrugs again, the crisp folds of his vest giving way to a stout laugh then a sigh.

“If that’s what it takes.”

Afterwards, you’re able to easily separate your life into three segments. There’s life before you started dating billionaire Anthony Edward Stark, life after, and life when you started dating Tony . They are too separate individuals, afterall. You learn that in due time. 

Anthony Edward Stark is a wealthy businessman, arrogant, withholding, charming, and a few notches above dedicated to you. He hates vegan food and wasting time.He's utterly hopeless in the kitchen, with a preference for iron red and a penchant for dry martinis (always dry, you learned this from serving him a classic out of habit on night two). There’s a collection of Black Sabbath albums hiding under his office desk, and there’s a slightly larger collection of ballpoint pens in the trash can nearby–caps gnawed to uselessness in one too many spirals of concentration.

Tony is much the same, in all respects. Eeeeexcept there’s that ex-wife he seemingly abhors. And the designer powdered death he proliferates through the city. And the addiction he promises to hold at bay. He keeps his end of the bargain, though and vicariously becomes someone new once he sleeps a whole lot more. Okay, okay so there's a lot. Overall, he is calmer. The fiery temper is dulled, replaced with an occasional unwarranted annoyance at the most mundane of things. At first, it’s concerning to you–watching his face screw at tailgating cars or broken zippers. Then, you find it pretty amusing, seeing someone so perfectly sewn together furrow their brows at long lines instead of losing it altogether at moments of chaos. Though you quickly figure out why he avoided sleep in the first place. 

It doesn’t happen until your third night back at the tower. A drizzle coats the high windows of the bedroom, the moonlight barely enough to see the rise and fall of his chest beside you. You’re deep into sleep, curled into Tony when you’re jolted awake by a sudden movement. Your eyes flicker open, confused and scanning the silk sheets before he twitches again, muttering in his sleep.

Barely awake, you shifted onto your side, planting a hand on his chest. With his arms no longer wrapped around your side, another twitch sends them flying to his chest.  His skin was warm, damp, mutterings continuing to fall from his lips–angry broken pleas for someone or something to stop. You’d think the windows were open with how bad he shivered.

“Tony,” you called out softly, rocking his shoulder. “Wake up.” 

It takes a few more attempts, each shake growing stronger as you gain more clarity. One of them must have woken him, arms leaving his chest to push your arms away. Fresh off a nightmare and no more awake than you were, he used much more force than needed, completely overshooting your hands to inadvertently strike your cheek.

You winced at the unexpected blow, your hand instinctively flying to your slight sting. Swearing softly, you met his wide-eyed gaze. He moves away from you in the same instant, breathing heavily at the edge of the bed

“Shit–I’m sorry– Fuck,” His hands ran across his face and through his hair more times than you can count, still struggling to catch his breath. “I didn’t know you–”

“It’s okay-Are you okay?” you interrupted, far more concerned about the way how terrified he sounded in his sleep and barely feeling it anymore regardless.

“Yeah, all good, bad dream.” Tony swung his legs over the edge, head resting in his hands. “Shit, that shouldn’t have happened.”

You wanted to press him about it, but decided against it while his voice is this shaky. 

Instead, you move to sit behind him and run a hand over the soft skin of his back until his breath returns to normal. You don’t say anything when the shakes turn to muffled sobs. Instead, you move to sit behind him and run a hand over the soft skin of his back until his breath returns to normal.

Neither of you speak about it. Not then, the next morning, or ever again. It just becomes a new part of reality. Anthony Edward Stark doesn’t sleep. Tony has nightmares that can turn into full panic attacks and render him a tremoring mess. Afterwards, he takes a cold shower and returns to bed without a word. Not that you know what to say anyway.

This is somehow harder. To watch him lose control. You were, as most lovers are, impeccably biased. Tony’s life was enviable to anyone with a brain, and yet he was as fractured as anyone.

“Honey, you plan on eating?” he asks, tapping the rim of your porcelain plate with his fork. 

You’re brought out of your deep thoughts and back into the present where roasted lemon fills your nostrils from the salmon below. You blame the restaurant–far too quiet to keep from drifting off. The candlelight flickers gently over the small table, creating small dancing shadows of you and Tony on the white linen. 

You met his inquisitive brown eyes, giving a small apology before grabbing the cold metal fork. Despite its mouth-watering smell, the taste is anything but. You attempt to hide your displeasure, but such an act is useless this close. 

“What’s wrong?” Tony abandons his own meal to question you. 

"Nothing, it's just... a little overcooked for my taste," you reply, trying to sound lighthearted. You were never the kind of person to send a meal back, and certainly weren't about to start at a place with a Michelin star.

“Could have sworn you ordered medium.” His posture stiffens, eyebrows raised. 

“Simple mistake, it happens.” you shrugged, preparing for a second attempt. 

You don’t get the chance, as Tony stands abruptly, grabbing the plate before your fork could make an impression. 

“Be right back." he assures you, a cold detachment in his voice. 

Without waiting for a response, he strides away from the table, towards the back of the restaurant, leaving you confused. 

After a few moments of waiting, a sense of unease begins to gnaw at you. You rise from your seat and, with hesitant steps, vaguely follow the path he took to a set of wide swinging doors. The soft glow of the overhead lights illuminates the narrow hallway, casting long shadows against the walls.

As you approach the kitchen, a waiter hurriedly scurries out, giving you a glimpse of Tony inside, one hand typing away idly at his phone and the other resting on a prep table, wrapped tightly in a blue rag. 

Blood stains the pristine white of the chef's uniform, his nose crimson and dripping onto his graying beard as he flips a fresh piece of salmon. He spares you a brief timid glance when the doors swing. One hand dabs poorly at the splotches while the other white-knuckles a metal spatula. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you step cautiously into the kitchen, abandoning the warm lights of the hallway for the fluorescent kitchen overheads.

"Oh, hey there," Tony says casually, an icy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

 “He’s remaking your salmon.” he explains enthusiastically, returning his attention to his phone.

You stand frozen, watching crimson bleed through the rag. You guessed the chef didn’t take too kindly to criticism, and you know Tony doesn’t take no for an answer. 

Maybe you didn’t know what calm looked on Tony after all. 

You assume you should be grateful. Grateful that he did as you asked and stopped hiding behind his own layers. You got exactly what you wanted after, Tony, wholly and entirely bare for you to see. No more paranoia that you weren’t enough or that this would all come crashing you both down into murky waters. Well, there was still a chance of that. Only now the waves are crystal clear, revealing everything you begged to see. 

At least he got more sleep this way. 

You relished in waking up next to him–when it wasn’t from night tremors, of course. You could watch the sun streak through the curtains and glow around his features, calm and peaceful. It’s a moment of absolute solitude you look forward to each night. Listening to nothing but the faint calls of birds and muffled rumblings as the city woke up 93 floors. You bide the time hill wakes by running your fingers along his chest and shoulder, memorizing scars by feeling alone.

This morning you awake too early, daybreak barely starting and an inability to fall back asleep. Quietly, you pull yourself from Tony’s tight embrace and tiptoe your way downstairs for a cup of tea. You forgo bothering with the lights, getting enough light from the shy horizon to make your way around. You open the kitchen fridge in the hopes of finding a lemon, only to jump nearly out of your skin when a sound comes from the island behind you. 

“ Christ !” you yelped, slamming the door shut and turning to the source.

Harley laughs and takes another bite of his apple, making the same loud crunch as a moment ago. “Aw, did I scare you?”

“What is with you people and sitting in the damn dark?” you question rhetorically, walking to the end of the kitchen to turn on the lights. You tighten the short silk robe around your pajamas, standing across from him. “I was trying to surprise the old man for his birthday, which you are ruining, by the way.” he remarks, pointing a wagging finger. 

“Tony’s birthday?” you ask, confused. “I didn’t know–”

The young man interrupts with a dismissive wave as he swallows another bite. “He doesn’t like to make a ‘ thing ’ of it, don’t sweat.” He gives complimentary air quotes, sitting back in the barstool.

“Fair enough.” You turn back to the cabinets to complete your original task. Behind you, Harley’s teeth piercing the fruit fills the early morning silence, interrupted by the flicker of the stove as you heat the kettle. You feel him eyeing you the entire time but decide not to feed into this time for your own peace. 

“Thanks, by the way.” Hot water is making its way into a lilac mug when he speaks again. 

“For, y’know.” he adds when you pivot with a puzzled face.

“No, I don’t know.” you respond exasperatedly, feeling a dig coming your way. You dip the tea bag into the water, stirring as he just stares back at you. You roll your eyes and head towards the stairs, deciding for certain that conversation with that kid was pointless.

“Were you not the one who got him clean?” He waits until your feet touch the first step to say it, forcing you to pivot.

“I’m not taking credit for his life choices.”

“Fair enough.” he mimics your tone from earlier with a gentle shrug. 

With that, you leave and retreat back upstairs.

The lukewarm tea slides down your throat with better ease in the bedroom. Tony continues to sleep beside you as the sun greets the sky, until you're drifting off too.. 

When you rise again, the chaotic rumbling of the city drifts up and through the windows in full force. You stretch out slowly, tuning into the sound of Tony’s voice and staticky music from the bathroom. You flip over to the source, seeing Tony at the sink fixing a slender graphite tie to his neck. Quiet as a mouse and far too comfortable to leave the silk sheets, you simply observe through the open door. Unaware to his spectator, he continues half-singing half-muttering  verse after verse of Back in Black . You have to stifle a giggle–not in judgment but in adoration. You didn’t think Tony Stark would belt rock lyrics as he cursed his hair for not blow drying exactly how he wanted. 

Eventually, he spots your watchful eyes, after he secures chrome cufflinks and stoops down to straighten his pants. You smile when you realize you're caught. 

“Hopefully you’re enjoying the show.” he grins, exiting the bathroom as he loops a thick leather belt around his waist. 

“It’s alright, could have better acoustics.” you taunt. 

Tony feigns offense as he kneels on the bed beside you. The soft mattress doesn’t make a sound for his weight to settle over top of you. Suddenly beneath him, cypress aftershave and evergreen shampoo drown out your senses. You know he’s not doing this to turn you on, it’s a byproduct of his nature–but now you just want to ruin the hair you watched him spend five minutes perfecting.

“Anyone else would be appreciative to AC/DC , or is that beyond your generation?” Tony asks, bracing an arm beside your head to fiddle with a free strand of hair. 

“I worked in a dive bar–think I know dad rock when I hear it.”

“Ouch.” he winces, a short chuckle following after. 

“Hey, never said it was bad.” you add, and he gives you a questionable hmm in response.

You’re fixated on the way his body compresses your own–the texture of his thumb on your face.

 “Happy birthday, by the way.” you say after a moment of silence. To this he stiffens, his gentle expression changing in the same way. 

“Hmm, guess that is today.” he muses. 

“I take it you haven’t been downstairs yet, then.” you say, thinking of Harley. Tony groans you curse the loss of his weight as he stands. 

“Nope, and I already know the kid’s down there raiding my refrigerator and getting crumbs everywhere.” There’s a strong disdain in his voice, reminding you of the phone call a few weeks ago.

He disappears back to the bathroom, swiping a watch from the granite sink. You stay silent in the airy cloud of sheets, tongue dancing behind your teeth. Clearly, a moment of silence is too telling for Tony. While you're fixated on the ceiling, he creeps back into the room, startling you when he hits the bed once more.

“You want him gone, say the word.” he declares, playfully. You’re barely listening, or really even bothered to think about Harley. It’s hard to concentrate on anything other than the fact that he’s  just hovering over you and not crushing you into the mattress or kissing you or –

Your train of thought is derailed when a hand laces behind your neck, fingers settling at your nape and a thumb below your chin. Tony smirks when your eyes flicker to his, increasing the pressure with his thumb until your lips part for air.

“I believe I asked you a question, doll.” He relents for a moment, only enough for your throat to strain as you answer.

“I don’t mind.” you whisper, letting your legs graze his suit pants. There was a small hope the cool fabric would soothe the warmth breaking out on your skin, but the itch just drives you insane.

“Good.” Tony releases his grip to plant a kiss on your forehead. In the next breath, his feet touch the floor again and you contemplate if the lost pride is worth begging him to touch you. 

You don’t get a chance to decide, as he gives some short winded promise about returning before the afternoon and exits the bedroom.

After a frustrating shower, and against both Harley and Jarvis’ better judgment (and very stern insistences), you decide to do something nice for Tony’s birthday. Well, as nice as you can without spending his own money.

It takes the better half of the day, and you have to ban a persistently nosy frat kid from the studio the entire time. You feel guilty about not knowing sooner. Then, you maybe would’ve pulled off something more his style. And then maybe like the finished product. It feels, and honestly, looks rushed (because it is), but in the end you feel worse about giving him nothing after all he’s done for you. 

It’s a small canvas–easy enough for you to carry down the spiral stairs without breaking an ankle. It’s a quarter to three when you make the final stroke. Once you’ve managed to get the stained ink from your fingers, voices start to flood from downstairs. You manage to do a half-decent job wrapping, which gets you way too excited to gift it. Sure, you’d given art as presents to friends before, but not since you were 10 and those were C-tier cards at best. This wasn’t your best work, though it still gave you the same sense of love. 

You call out Tony’s name as you head downstairs, hearing his and Harley’s voices echo from the living room. The muffled words are sharp and tense. You don’t notice the third voice over theirs, or the thud of the feet. You don’t even see her until you enter the space. 

“Well, who do we have here, Tone’?” Two rows of perfect porcelain teeth gleam at you over Tony’s shoulder.

He turns to you the moment she speaks, brows tighter than a steel drum and fists tight by his side. Harley stifles his chuckle behind the kitchen island. 

Silence pulls new red heat to your cheeks. The living embodiment of every insecurity you’d forgotten stood ten feet away in Louboutin heels. Tony’s stories painted enough of a picture of a flawless woman. Actually seeing her, now that was new territory. Her strawberry blonde locks were meticulously curled, in a mauve dress without a single wrinkle in sight. You felt embarrassed with your undone hair,  in stained clothes and matching ink-ridden hands. 

You start an equally embarrassing stammer of your name, to which Tony interrupts.

“Nope, not a chance.” He meets your eyes with fire before turning back to Pepper. “How the hell did you get up here–Actually, I don’t even want to know. Leave now.” 

Pepper grins like they're old friends catching up. You feel like you shouldn’t be witness to whatever this is, awkwardly holding the canvas.

“Aw, Tony ,” she drags out with a click of her tongue. A slender hand reaches down into a thin leather briefcase, placing an envelope on the island. “Just thought I’d give you your present in person.”

“An email would have sufficed.” He grits.

“Well that wouldn’t be very polite, hm?” She cocks her head like it’s a serious question. 

“Exit is directly behind you.” 

Some quippy remark brews and dies on her tongue. A small glance is spared your way again, before she leaves.

Tony doesn’t move until the whir of the elevator starts. Harley clears his throat and retreats to the back hallway without another word.

“Tony–” you call out as he passes you for the stairs. He grants you a dismissive wave that cuts you short and swells your throat. All but stomping he makes his way up the stairs, leaving you alone with all the tension they left behind.

The white envelope goes unattended. Tony didn’t bother with it, but you do. Setting your gift against the stair railing, you tiptoe over to it. It’s unsealed–a solitary white letter tucked away. The ornate New York State emblem is a pale distraction for the words below. 

ᴜɴᴄᴏɴᴛᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴘᴇᴛɪᴛɪᴏɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴅɪᴠᴏʀᴄᴇ 

An agreement for complete dissolution separation of any and all assets for both parties.

Signed by Pepper Potts in midnight ink.

[wasawattpadkid]

YOUR WORKS ARE SO AMAZING IT'S UNREAL, i love how you write for the boys and how you can make it so wholesome and heartwarming without losing their essence and characterization, i don't know how to explain but the vibe of your writing is like being in woodsboro with them, ughhh how can you be so good?!! loll

so, i was wondering if i could request the boys (separately) with a Y/N who loves to spoil them, and i mean it, it doesnt need to be only with payed gifts but she loves to cook for them, to clean, to cuddle and even to dress them up like babies, URGHHH THEY NEED LOVE AND I NEED TO SPOIL THEM OUT OF THEIR MIND

still, remember to take care of yourself and to drink water, feel free to deny!! love uu ❤

First of all this made me so happy you are the sweetest person ever thank you so much 💕 and I absolutely live for the fluffy requests so here ya go!

Billy

"Excuse me!" You shouted politely as you walked through the sea of children with your hands full. The lunch bell had rang, so naturally all hell broke loose. Making your way to the water fountain Billy's eyes seemed to light up at the sight of you. "What is it today?" Randy asked a little disappointed he never got anything. You handed Billy his lunch box while the group of friends waited to see what's inside.

Billy never went without and you made sure of it. There was chicken wraps, grapes, pretzels and a slice of the pie you made him the night previous. "Babe, it's great. Thank you." Billy looked up at you his eyes squinting from the sun. You leaned down pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You're welcome." You chirped setting next to him. "You know Y/n you're supposed to be his girlfriend not his mom." It was a sore subject but Stu never understood how to shut his mouth. Billy turned his head not being able to take the smile off his face. "Yeah and where are your parents Macher?"

Stu laughed. "That's fair man." Billy cut into the pie first taking a bite of the dessert. Before he could even taste the food you asked if he liked it. He nodded trying to quickly chew the food. "It's amazing." He grabbed your hand squeezing it with a smile. Tatum and Sydney thought you and Billy were the cutest couple at Woodsboro. Stu and Randy however had never seen Billy act this way. Everyone in a five mile radius could see you had him wrapped around your finger. You stayed hugged up to Billy's arm as you and him finished his lunch. It was a mandatory rule at this point that if you made him lunch you had to eat with him. Most of the time he quickly ate the dessert leaving you with baby carrots or whatever healthy food you packed him.

"I've got to get back to class I'll see you at my place tonight?" You double checked. "I'll be there." You kissed Billy's cheek before standing up. "Make sure to get the movie before you come over." You reminded him as he smirked wondering what sort of spell you had over him. "What movie are you two love birds watching tonight?" Randy asked as you started walking. "Ghost with Patrick Swayze!" You practically bounced with excitement as you walked back into the building. Oh they were so going to make fun of your boyfriend.

Stu

Stu waited patiently on your couch as you ran off to go grab something. Being in a relationship with you he knew you had something to give him every time he came over. Last week you brought him flowers and he almost cried. He could hear you enter the room. "Keep them closed!" You scolded making the boy scoff. "If I close them any tighter I'll swallow my eyeballs." You took another look at the gift making sure everything was perfect.

"You can open." Stu blinked trying to get rid of the splotches that covered his vision. The silver charm bracelet in your hand caught his attention right away. "That's for me?" He asked picking it up gingerly like he was afraid he'd break it. "Yep. If you look it's got our initials on it like when you carved them on that tree." He grabbed the small heart charm looking at the engraved letters. You watched him struggle to latch it on his wrist so you helped.

"Do you like it?" You bit your lip nervously. Stu would wear rings and a necklace occasionally but he didn't seem like one for bracelets. Stu grabbed you pulling you on the couch. He growled like a dog as he playfully bit your neck. You screamed with laughter as he continued tickling the life out of you. "Do I like it? Of course I like it. Are you crazy? He asked still abusing your sides as you squirmed around laughing. "I'm crazy." He said stopping to let you catch your breath. "Crazy for you." He added making you look at him funny. "That was the sappiest shit I've ever heard you say."

It was pretty bad, Stu agreed with you but he saw the way you got flustered by his words. You cuddled up with him on the couch as he inspected the new piece of jewelry. "This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me." You shook your head. "You say that every week." Stu leaned over kissing the top of your head. "Well you just keep getting better and better."

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight: Persevering Afterlight - 15. The Last of Me

Summary: A final report on the Savanaclaw Clan that signaled an ending to your time with them that you hadn’t even been prepared for. It was bound to be bittersweet by now, but there was little to be done. And even if you were going to move on, that didn’t mean your friendships here would disappear.

Series Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ series/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 2266

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

I exhaled slightly as I walked through the repaired doors of the Savanaclaw Clan’s headquarters, but I was in no way prepared for what greeted me.

A young man with moose-like horns, Bruce, I reminded myself, stared at me with steadily widening eyes before a crooked smile appeared on his face and whirled, calling out as loudly as he could, “Guys!!! The Hunter is here!!”

His words caused a wave of people to surge forth, and I glanced around me in slight panic until I heard a now familiar snicker and two hands appeared, one on each of my arms, “‘Bout time you got here.”

I looked over with wide eyes to see Ruggie grinning from ear to ear as he looked my way from where he leaned around me before he let go of one of my arms to raise his hand to mouth as he started shouting, “Alright! Everybody move it. Make way!”

He kept a hold of me as he maneuvered us through the crowd until help came in the form of a young man whose tail was already wagging by the time he came into sight.

I waved slightly, smiling to myself at his tail’s antics, “Hi Jack. Thanks for your help the other night, and sorry if I worried you.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck slightly, “It’s okay. And Leona explained everything anyway. I’m glad you’re alright, though.”

He looked away from me, and Ruggie leaned over, snickering slightly and whispering into my ear, “Don’t let him fool you. He’s been worried sick.”

I grinned at his words before looking back over at Jack, who smiled slightly, oblivious to Ruggie’s words as he started helping to clear out the crowd that had formed at alarming speeds.

It took a surprisingly long while, but they eventually got me to Leona’s room, and Ruggie knocked jauntily on the door with a wide grin on his face, “Leona! You’ve got a visitor!”

From within the room, I could hear what was no doubt a groggy Leona yell something along the lines of “Send ‘em in,” and I exchanged a look with Ruggie.

The young man snickered yet again before opening the door and bowing playfully as he gestured into the room, “Right this way.”

I rolled my eyes slightly at his antics before walking through the doorway. “Leona,” I called softly as he sat up from the mass of pillows that was his bed and scratched at his neck before yawning.

“Yep?” I grinned at his nonchalant tone before sitting down in the seat by the window.

“I think I’ve figured out an option for what might be causing the insanity,” My tone was light, but my words had him going still, and he twisted to look at me with an unreadable expression.

He shifted from his previously relaxed posture and stood before walking over to where I sat, “What is it?”

I shifted in my seat nervously. I’d come up with my new theory last night after Vil had left. In reality, it was just the product of me bouncing around the few pieces of information I had, but it was the best I could come up with.

“Vil told me that a vampire can lose themselves at any point, even if it’s been quite some time since they were changed,” Leona sat down in the chair across from me as I spoke, nodding slightly and confirming what Vil had said.

I gestured to him lightly as I continued, “You said you picked up a lot of the vampires who eventually go insane off of the streets, and that the insanity probably wasn’t caused by a particularly traumatic change,” He nodded again at my words, this time eyeing me as he waited for me to continue.

“Crewel told me the insanity was probably caused by something else outside of the effects of being both a vampire and a werewolf,” I watched Leona carefully as he nodded again. Apparently agreeing with the other man even as he frowned slightly.

I inhaled, at long last forcing myself to take the plunge, “What if the insanity isn’t caused by an interplay between diseases or how the change occurred, but instead the vampire that actually caused the change?”

Leona sat back, frowning slightly with twitching ears as he crossed his arms, “You mean what if being bitten by an insane vampire causes insanity?”

I nodded, leaning forward hopefully, “Yeah, or at the very least puts one at risk for developing insanity. Kind of like how a parent can pass on genes to a child that cause them to have the same disease.”

He nodded at my words but stayed silent, his expression thoughtful as he continued to frown before nodding, “It doesn’t explain everything, but it makes as much sense as any other explanation.”

I felt myself brighten as his words, and he snorted slightly at my expression before shaking his head, “Look at you, all excited like a little kitten. This hardly means that you’ve solved everything.”

I frowned at his words, “I know that. But still, it’s a good sign when someone else agrees with me.”

His eyebrows rose at my words, and a single ear twitched, “You didn’t ask Vil about this first last night?”

I blinked at him before slowly shaking my head, “No, I only really just figured this out after he left while I was trying to go to sleep.”

Leona stayed silent, eyeing me before he let out something akin to a hum and stood “Well, come on, Herbivore. It’s time for you to make your report.”

I stared at him in slightly shocked confusion, “My… My report??”

He snorted at me before glancing over with a grin, “Yeah. Crowley’s guy has been here for a while now and is probably getting kind of impatient.”

I hurriedly stood, trotting towards the door and fussing all the way, “Why didn’t you tell me?! Where is he? The same room as before, or-?”

He cut me off with a slight smirk, “Calm down; I’m gonna take you to him, and I told him you’d be coming to talk to me first.” He was still grinning as he stepped around me and out the door before nonchalantly calling over his shoulder at me, “You coming?”

I scowled at his turned back but hurried after him, trotting along behind him until I caught up to the smug young man who didn’t even look my way as he strolled down the hallway at a relaxed pace. As if there was nothing in the world that could hurry him along.

I hurried through the door the very second he opened it when we finally got to the room, hurriedly apologizing to the older man who sat in the chair rubbing a perfectly annoyed-looking, black-and-white cat, “I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting! I hope it hasn’t been too long.”

Gray eyes met mine, and the older man stood, “That’s alright. Mr. Kingscholar explained that you had to report to him first on what you’d found.”

I blinked slightly, barely able to keep myself from looking towards where Leona stood behind me, leaning against the wall just next to the door. 

What he’d had expected me to do if I hadn’t come up with something to report was beyond me.

“Yes, thank you for being so understanding,” I answered vaguely, knowing perfectly well that Leona was smirking amusedly at me from behind my back but forcing myself to focus on the man in front of me instead.

The older man nodded before letting his cat leap to the floor so that he could reach out to shake my hand, “I am Trein. Crowley sent me, as I’m sure you know, to receive your report on what you’ve found in regards to your mission.”

I shook his hand slowly, concentrating on his words as I nodded slowly, “Yes. I currently suspect that the insanity is actually caused by the vampire who initially turns those affected. I think that insanity may be passed along, sort of like how a gene is.”

Trein slowly nodded, his expression turning thoughtful, “I see, this is a thought that hasn’t been presented before now.”

He frowned for a moment longer, “Very well. I will present this idea to Crowley. You may expect your next order over the next few days. Thank you.”

He inclined his head before turning and walking out of the room. Leaving me to stare after him feeling slightly startled and also slightly lost. Because my ‘next order’ meant one thing. That my time at the Savannaclaw Clan was done.

Trein paused only once as he left, glancing over at Leona before he passed through the door, “The report you sent along with Vargas was well received.”

I frowned at his words but remained silent as the older man passed through the door and disappeared. 

Only then did I look towards Leona, who stared back at me with a neutral expression. And somehow, in that exact moment, I realized he’d known that this was going to happen from the very moment I’d told him I’d come up with an explanation for the cause of the insanity.

I swallowed slightly, finding that I wasn’t excited in the slightest to be moving forward. Rather, I was filled with a mixture of melancholy and dread.

It was true. I wanted to solve this issue for the sake of the friends I had, but it was also true that I’d made new friends here in the Savanaclaw Clan and that I wasn’t quite ready to leave them quite so suddenly.

But then, it wasn’t as if I had a choice. I was still beholden to Crowley’s orders. If he told me that it was time to move on, even though I’d only just truly become close to everyone here, then that's what I had to do.

I inhaled and walked over to where Leona still stood, propped up beside the door, but I didn’t look his way as I spoke, my voice coming out surprisingly quiet, “What did you report?”

Leona didn’t move, and I couldn’t see his expression, but his tone was largely nonchalant as he answered, “What the guy asked. How you were handling the clan and whether there had been any issues.”

I met his gaze once more, not surprised to see a perfectly neutral mask staring back at me, “And? How have I been handling the clan?”

There was zero hesitation in the way he met my gaze even as he stayed silent for a moment before a grin flitted across his face in an almost mocking fashion, “You don’t have to worry about that, Herbivore. I told them that you were getting along quite well with everyone here.”

His tone was distinctly mocking, but I exhaled in relief anyway. Nodding slightly before looking away from him once more even as I spoke, “Thanks.”

I started to slip through the door only to get stopped by his hand curling around my arm. I glanced back at him, not exactly curious so much as I was tired. 

The realization that I would be moving on just after getting comfortable here was surprisingly wearying. But I supposed it was better for Crowley to keep me moving. More efficient, no doubt.

“Just because you’re done with your job here doesn’t mean you can’t come back,” Leona’s words caused my eyes to widen even as he met my stare with that unflinching gaze of his. 

It reminded me of that night I’d met him. When his bright summer green eyes that didn’t hold even a trace of hesitation had given me pause even then.

He let go of my arm but continued, his voice low and surprisingly solemn, “If I know anything about that guy, it’s that he’ll do whatever is necessary. And if he’s going to try and keep you apart from the allies you’ve made, then don’t let him.”

Crowley. He was talking about Crowley. And even if I hadn’t realized it before now, he was probably right.

Crowley quite likely was trying to distance me from anyone who might be a true ally. I’d made it clear that I didn’t care for him when we’d met after all. 

Why he might be worried about me having allies, though, I didn’t know. Especially since it was one of his lackey’s who’d instructed me to win over those within this clan. But Leona was right. I didn’t have to let him.

I smiled slightly, reminded of Leona’s words from just a few nights ago: “We protect our own.” A small part of me wondered if I was counted in that number, but I didn’t ask.

Instead, I grinned at him, “Don’t worry. I won’t be disappearing altogether, and you certainly haven’t seen that last of me.”

A grin slowly slid across his face as he held my gaze, “I guess not. A pest like you couldn’t just disappear quietly. After all, you promised I’d be one of the first to know when you figured this entire mess out.”

He leaned over, dipping almost casually into my personal bubble as his hair fell like a curtain to block the view of our smiling faces even though there was no one else around.

And despite the way such close proximity would have once put me on edge, it wasn’t imposing in the slightest this time, as I found myself grinning back at him as he finished in a characteristically snarky tone, “Let’s hope you do a better job of keeping that promise.”

If you would like to read more:

Previous

Next: Hours in the Moonlight: Guileful Nightfall

[fieldofdaisiies]

Reader feeling self conscious about her body after overhearing some horrible comments and Az reassuring her she is perfect as she is? I know you would do this justice!!

oh my heart❤️ of course!!!

on a night out you have heard some females talk about you and Azriel, them saying how he could choose you when there are so many prettier females out there, with more beautiful bodies

of course you try to ignore these comments, but once you are back at home, alone in the bathroom, naked in front of the mirror because you have just bathed, the thoughts in your brain get too loud all of a sudden

they hollow in your mind, replaying over and over again "he is so good looking while she is…" "look at her...."

you are in the bathroom for so long, Azriel gets worried and eventually finds you

you are sobbing lightly, startling when you see him, trying to deny your emotions and what is going here

but he is your mate, he can read you so well and knows better

and so it obviously becomes his mission to show you how beautiful your are -> you have to see yourself the way he sees you

he closes the distance between the two of you, arms sliding around you "my beautiful mate" he whispers against your ear and kisses the side of your head

you sniffle softly, relaxing against his hard chest and smiling slightly

Azriel kisses your shoulder, his fingers dancing over your belly "I love your belly so much. So soft and beautiful. You are so beautiful. I cannot wait for this belly to be all round, our baby growing in it."

Azriel waits for your reaction, his chest warming when he sees you smile in the mirror

he closes his eyes for a moment, thumbs brushing your sides

his hands slide backwards, cupping your butt and he grins at you through the mirror, eyes aglow in the dim room "such a fine ass."

he gives your backside a soft two handed smack, grinning against the skin of your shoulder "all soft and jiggly.

you chuckle and squeeze your eyes shut "and jiggly is good?" "mhm," he groans against your ear. "you have the best ass I have ever seen, ever held, ever kissed."

to make his point clear, Azriel crouches down behind you, placing two soft pecks on your butt

he smiles at you through the mirror when straightening up behind you, his hands sliding up your thighs "those legs, those thighs, gods they drive me made."

Azriel gives your thighs a soft squeeze, hands moving to your hips "I love when your legs are wrapped around me, when your thighs squeeze my head."

for a moment Azriel silently regards you in the mirror, smiling softly, genuinely "where do we continue?"

he decides to go over your breasts, grabbing a handful of both, bouncing them slightly in his scarred hands

Azriel nibbles on your ear before he meets your gaze in the mirror, a feline smile on his lips "so gorgeous. I love your breasts and I think you know how much I love them."

he never stops kissing your skin, only for a moment to turn you in his arms

Azriel’s scarred hands cradle your face, fingers splayed out "now to my most favourite part. this beautiful, stunning, absolutely breath-taking face."

leaning forward he kisses your nose, your brow, your forehead, your cheek "your eyes made me lose my breath the moment they connected with mine. your lips are the softest I have ever kissed. you are so stunning and I know your smile could light up the darkest place of the hewn city."

Azriel kisses your mouth softly, hands sliding around your middle "I love you so much and for me your are the most beautiful woman in this world. it breaks my heart that these females made you feel less. your are breath-taking and exquisite and each day I am reminded of how lucky I am to be your mate."

he kisses you once again, tears rolling down your cheeks when you thank him over and over again, telling him how much you love him "my beautiful mate you might not be flawless, but to me you are. you are perfection and I couldn't love you or your body any more. you are stunning and delicate."

this night Azriel spends worshipping every small part of your body, telling you how beautiful you are over and over again and of course how much he loves you, loves every part of you

author here 👋🏻 just a reminder form Az and me: you are beautiful no matter what amd no matter what anyone tells you. if your belly is a little rounder you are beautiful, if you belly is flat you are beautiful. if your breasts are bigger or smaller they are beautiful, same goes for your cutie bum. you are beautiful and if anyone wants to make you feel less about your body I will come for all of them, flicking their forehead and tell them to shut up!!! no one in this world is perfect and you always have to remember that weight does not equal health. you can be skinny and still not be healthy, and you can weigh a little more and be health. as long as it is in an okay range it is fine the way it is. I know self-love is a very difficult topic and even though I have managed it quite well in the past two years I still sometimes struggle with it. so if you need someone to talk to, my ask box is always open for you. okay, okay byeeee. love you💙

[everyones-fangirl]

Delectable Little Pet

Warnings: 18+ This will be about after ascension Astarion so expect some extreme dark romance and future triggers. Stalking. Being super forward/not taking no for an answer. Murder.

Word Count: 5,601

Chapter 6

Cassara

The night that monster turned my whole world upside down had been fortnights ago by now, and my confusion only grew by the day. My feelings bounced between longing and anger, creating a tempest within me that I couldn't control. I didn't dare tell anyone what had happened, fearing they would think me crazy. How could I explain the way my body had betrayed me? How I had wanted it? I shook my head as if that would rid me of the confusing thoughts, the familiar burning deep in my belly.

At first, I didn't dare touch myself, haunted by his last threat while he tortured me with his surprisingly skilled fingers. But when I hadn't felt his presence in a while, I lost myself. I probably didn't leave my bed all morning, consumed by thoughts of him. I could practically still feel his hands on me, his voice whispering dark promises in my ear. Once I came undone with his words echoing in my head, I started back up again. And again. And again.

Guilt weighed heavy on my chest, a constant reminder of my perceived weakness. But the flutter in my stomach had me itching to return to my chambers. The memory of his touch lingered, an uninvited guest in my thoughts. I hated him for what he did to me, but I couldn't deny the fire he had ignited within me. Every night, as I lay in bed, I fought a losing battle against the desire he had awoken. My fingers would drift over my body, mimicking the path his had taken, and I would lose myself in the sensations. The anger and shame would resurface in the aftermath, but in those moments of pleasure, they were forgotten. I knew I had to find a way to rid myself of his hold, but the more I tried, the stronger it seemed to become. The conflict within me was a constant torment, and the only relief I found was in the dark, secret pleasure I took from those memories. The flutter in my stomach, the ache between my legs, they were both a curse and a solace.

As I made my way through the day, guilt and desire warring within me, I knew that eventually, I would have to face him again. The thought gnawed at me, an ever-present shadow lurking in the corners of my mind. I didn't know when that encounter would come, and I doubted that any amount of time would be enough to prepare myself. All sane thoughts seemed to disappear as soon as his hands were on me. I couldn't be trusted to handle myself around him. The people around me seemed to have sensed the switch within me, especially Caty. She had always been perceptive, and lately, I hardly ever saw her because my solution to my dwindling mental health and self-control was to work so much I didn’t have time for anything else. It was a temporary fix, a way to keep my mind occupied and away from the dark corners where thoughts of him lurked.

But tonight, things were different. A very popular festival was scheduled to be held in the heart of the lower city, and I was being forced to go. My job was on the line, and Caty had managed to talk everyone into teaming up to make sure I took a break. I argued, but they only used that against me, saying, "Any sane person would jump at a night off." I guess they were right, but as I mentioned before, I’m not as sane as I once thought. As I stood from my bed, I caught my reflection in the floor-length mirror across the room. My knee-high boots were laced up tightly, their dark leather gleaming faintly in the dim light. They hugged my legs snugly, the fit perfect and comfortable despite their imposing appearance. My usual flowy blouse billowed slightly with each movement, the soft fabric caressing my skin. It was a deep, rich blue, reminiscent of a twilight sky, and it contrasted sharply with the black leather corset that cinched my waist, accentuating my curves. The corset was intricate, with delicate stitching that added a touch of elegance to its otherwise sturdy design. The black leather was supple, molded to my form, and the silver buckles gleamed as they caught the light. It was both practical and stylish, offering support while enhancing my silhouette.

Tonight, I had traded my usual pants for a skirt. It was a bold choice, but one I felt was necessary to combat the summer heat. The skirt was made of a lightweight material that swayed with every step I took. It was black, like my corset, with slits up to my thighs that allowed for ease of movement and a hint of daring. The fabric was soft, almost silky, and it whispered against my skin as I walked. My hair was another story. I had pulled it back into a loose bun, but several dark strands had escaped, framing my face in soft waves. It gave me a slightly wild, untamed look that I didn’t entirely mind. My eyes, usually a calm gray hint, seemed to shimmer with a mix of anxiety and excitement, reflecting the turmoil within me. My cheeks were flushed, not from the heat, but from the anticipation of the night ahead.

I reached up and adjusted the leather band that held my hair back, making sure it was secure. My fingers brushed against the soft tendrils that had escaped, and I sighed, knowing they would only continue to rebel. Around my neck, I wore the simple silver chain with a small pendant from my mother. It was a delicate piece, understated but meaningful, and I found myself absentmindedly touching it for comfort. My skin was a light olive tone, slightly sun-kissed from my time spent outdoors the past few weeks, and it contrasted beautifully with the deep blue of my blouse and the black of my skirt and corset. I wore minimal makeup, just enough to highlight my features without being overpowering. A touch of kohl around my eyes made them stand out, and a hint of color on my lips gave me a fresh, natural look.

As I took one last glance in the mirror, I felt a mix of confidence and apprehension. Despite my fears and the confusion that plagued me, there was a small part of me that longed for the thrill, the danger he represented. It was a sick, twisted desire that I couldn't fully understand or control. I took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror, trying to shake off the conflicting emotions. Tonight was supposed to be about letting go, about enjoying a rare moment of respite from my self-imposed isolation. I couldn't let thoughts of him ruin it. I owed it to myself to try and find some semblance of normalcy, even if it was just for one night.

The streets were already bustling with activity as I made my way to the festival. The festival was a dazzling spectacle, transforming the usually gritty streets of the lower city into a vibrant tapestry of color and light. Lanterns of every hue hung overhead, swaying gently in the evening breeze, their warm glow casting a magical ambiance over the cobblestone paths. Strings of twinkling lights crisscrossed above, creating a canopy of stars that seemed to dance to the rhythm of the music that filled the air.

Stalls lined the streets, each one offering a variety of goods and treats. The aromas were intoxicating—a mix of roasted meats, sweet pastries, and exotic spices that made my mouth water. Vendors called out to passersby, their voices blending into a harmonious cacophony that was both overwhelming and exhilarating. Children ran between the stalls, their laughter ringing out as they chased each other and played games, their faces painted with bright colors and wide smiles. Performers dotted the festival grounds, each corner revealing a new act. There were jugglers tossing flaming torches into the air with deft precision, acrobats twisting and turning in impossible shapes, and musicians playing lively tunes on fiddles and drums. A group of dancers twirled in the center of a clearing, their movements synchronized and graceful, the swirls of their brightly colored skirts creating a mesmerizing display.

Caty and I navigated through the throng of people, occasionally stopping to admire a particularly impressive performance or to sample a tempting treat. The energy was infectious, and for a while, I managed to push aside the dark thoughts that usually plagued me. We paused at a stall selling hand-crafted jewelry, the intricate designs catching the light and sparkling brilliantly. Caty picked up a delicate bracelet, her eyes shining with delight as she tried it on. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine excitement.

I nodded, smiling at her. "It is. You should get it."

She grinned and handed over a few coins to the vendor, who wrapped the bracelet carefully before handing it back to her. As we continued to wander, I felt a small measure of peace settle over me. Maybe, just maybe, I could enjoy this night without the constant fear and longing that had been my constant companions. But deep down, I knew that the respite was temporary. The shadow of his presence loomed large, a dark promise of things to come. And as much as I tried to deny it, a part of me couldn't wait to face him again. We continued our journey, the festival revealing new wonders with each step. There was a fortune teller's tent, draped in rich fabrics and emitting a mysterious, inviting aura. A puppet show nearby had gathered a small crowd of children, their eyes wide with wonder as the puppets danced and acted out a whimsical tale. We reached a central square where a large stage had been set up. The music here was louder, more intense, and a group of musicians was performing an upbeat tune that had people dancing and clapping along. The square was packed, but the atmosphere was electric, the joy and excitement palpable. I couldn't help but tap my foot to the rhythm, a small smile playing on my lips as I watched the dancers. Amidst the revelry, I allowed myself to relax, to soak in the sights and sounds of the festival. The laughter, the music, the vibrant colors—it all felt like a balm to my troubled soul. Caty squeezed my hand, pulling me into the dance circle. I laughed, the sound feeling foreign and yet liberating, as we joined the crowd, moving to the lively beat. The festival was a brief escape, a fleeting moment of joy amidst the chaos of my life. For tonight, I was determined to embrace it, to let the music, the lights, and the laughter wash over me and carry me away.

The music pulsed through the air, a vibrant, rhythmic melody that seemed to reach into my very soul. I closed my eyes and let the beat take complete control, my body swaying and spinning in time with the music. I felt free, unburdened, as if the weight of my troubles had been momentarily lifted. I hadn't even realized Caty had released my hands until I found myself twirling, my skirt billowing around me in a whirl of fabric. Suddenly, large hands gripped my waist, pulling me into an even larger body. My eyes popped open in surprise. The man holding me was a wood elf like myself, but he had the build of a giant. I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze, his beautiful hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. His hands, wrapped securely around my waist, were so large that one of them could probably cover my entire face.

"Do you usually just go around grabbing people?" I teased, a bit of a bite to my tone, though a smile played at the corners of my lips.

His grin widened, revealing perfect white teeth. "Only the ones who look like they need saving from dancing alone," he shot back, his voice a deep, smooth rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.

He spun me around, and I found myself pressed firmly against his chest. The heat of his body seeped through my thin blouse, mingling with the summer night’s warmth. His hands were firm but gentle, guiding my movements with an expertise that hinted at years of practice. I couldn’t help but lean into his touch, the sensation of his strong hands on my waist stirring something deep inside me.

I arched an eyebrow, trying to maintain a semblance of control despite the flutter in my stomach. "You think I need saving, do you?"

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "Maybe not saving," he murmured, his lips grazing my earlobe. "But I definitely think you need a partner who can keep up."

He twirled me out again, and I laughed, a genuine sound that felt strange and wonderful. As he pulled me back, his hand slid down to the small of my back, his fingers tracing circles that sent sparks of electricity through me. Our bodies moved in perfect sync, every step a dance of seduction that left me breathless and wanting more.

"You're awfully confident," I said, my voice barely audible over the music. "What makes you think I want a partner at all?"

His grin turned wicked, and he dipped me low, his face inches from mine. "Because," he whispered, his hazel eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart race, "I can see it in your eyes. You crave more than just the music. You crave the thrill, the excitement... the danger."

Before I could respond, he brought me back up, our faces so close that our lips nearly brushed. The air between us crackled with tension, a magnetic pull that I couldn’t resist. He held me there, his eyes searching mine, and I felt my resolve wavering.

"What's your name?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

"Daeron," he replied, his lips curving into a seductive smile. "And you, beautiful?"

"Cassara," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

"Well, Cassara," he said, his voice a velvety purr that sent a thrill through me, "let's see if you can keep up."

With that, he spun me around again, his hands guiding me with an expert touch that left me breathless. As we danced, the world around us faded away, leaving only the music, the night, and the intoxicating presence of Daeron. For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to get lost in the moment, surrendering to the rhythm and the heat of his body against mine. Daeron was unlike anyone I had ever encountered. His imposing figure towered over the crowd, easily making him a head taller than most of the festival-goers. His broad shoulders and muscular build suggested a life of hard labor or perhaps battle, but his movements were surprisingly graceful for someone of his size. He had the air of someone who was comfortable in their own skin, every motion exuding confidence and ease. His skin had a sun-kissed hue, a golden tan that hinted at long days spent under the open sky. It contrasted beautifully with his dark, wavy hair, which fell to his shoulders in a slightly unruly fashion. There was a natural wildness to him, an untamed quality that drew the eye. His hazel eyes were striking, flecked with shades of green and gold, and they seemed to sparkle with a mischievous light, especially when he smiled.

Daeron's features were chiseled and handsome, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline that gave him a rugged, almost roguish look. His nose was straight and slightly aquiline, and his lips were full, often curved into a playful grin. He had a slight stubble, adding to his rugged charm and giving him an edge of masculinity that was hard to ignore. He wore a simple yet practical outfit that seemed well-suited to both work and travel. A dark, sleeveless leather vest showed off his muscular arms and provided a glimpse of the various tattoos that adorned his skin—intricate designs that seemed to tell a story of their own. His trousers were made of sturdy material, tucked into high, well-worn boots that looked like they had seen many miles. Around his waist was a broad leather belt, from which hung various pouches and a sheathed dagger, suggesting he was prepared for any situation.

Despite his formidable appearance, there was a warmth and openness in his demeanor that set me at ease. He moved with the confidence of someone who knew their place in the world, yet his eyes held a spark of curiosity and adventure. It was clear he was used to living life on his own terms, unbound by the constraints that held so many others back. As he danced with me, his hands were gentle yet firm, guiding me with an ease that made it clear he was as comfortable in this setting as he would be in any other. Daeron was a paradox, a blend of strength and grace, wildness and warmth. And as I found myself drawn into his orbit, I couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue and excitement. Who was this man, and what stories did he carry with him? For tonight, at least, he was a part of my story, and I intended to enjoy every moment of it.

After a few more dances, we found ourselves wandering toward a grand fountain, its cascading water illuminated by the festival lights. This secluded spot offered a respite from the crowd, a more private and intimate setting. Each step away from my friends heightened my nerves, but they all seemed preoccupied with their own revelries. I took a deep breath, trying to dispel the anxious and guilty energy swirling within me. My fists clenched by my sides as I reminded myself that I did not deserve to feel this way. What I was doing, what I was experiencing, was completely normal. I was exploring my options, and there was nothing wrong with that.

"What is going on behind those pretty eyes?" Daeron's deep voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I glanced up at him.

His gaze was intense, filled with curiosity and something else I couldn't quite place. I swallowed hard, feeling the heat of his scrutiny. "Just thinking," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between us. The scent of earth and pine clung to him, a stark contrast to the bustling festival atmosphere. "Thinking about what?" he asked, his voice a low murmur. "You seem troubled."

I forced a smile, trying to shake off the lingering tension. "It's nothing," I said, looking away. "Just... a lot on my mind."

“Then allow me to distract you.” He sat on the stone edge of the fountain, gently pulling me into his lap so I faced him. The sudden closeness made my heart race, and I could feel the warmth of his body seeping into mine. His hands rested on my hips, firm yet comforting, and the intimacy of the position sent a shiver down my spine.

"Let me help you clear your mind." His voice was a soft rumble, and before I could respond, I felt his lips on my neck. My breath hitched in surprise, the sensation sending a spark of heat through me. His kisses were gentle, teasing, as if testing my boundaries.

I tilted my head slightly, giving him better access, my eyes fluttering shut. Each press of his lips against my skin seemed to dissolve a bit of the tension I had been carrying. His hands began to move slowly, one tracing patterns up my back while the other stayed anchored on my hip.

"Is this helping?" he murmured against my neck, his breath warm and tantalizing.

I could barely form words, my mind clouded by the sensation. "Yes," I managed to whisper, my voice breathy and uncertain.

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze intense and filled with something I couldn't quite name. "Good," he said softly, a smile playing on his lips. "Because you deserve to feel good, Cassara."

His words were like a balm, soothing the turmoil inside me. I found myself leaning into him, my hands resting on his broad shoulders for support. He took this as encouragement, his hands sliding lower to grip my thighs, pulling me closer still. The fabric of my skirt bunched up around my legs, and I could feel the rough texture of his trousers against my bare skin. As his lips continued their slow, deliberate exploration of my neck, I felt a growing heat between us, a tension that was both exhilarating and terrifying. I was losing myself in the moment, in the feel of his hands and mouth, and terrifyingly, I didn’t want to pull away. I allowed my fingers to tangle in his hair, drawing him closer, my body responding eagerly to his touch. The world around us faded, the sounds of the festival becoming a distant hum. All that mattered was the here and now, the way he made me feel alive and desired.

He shifted his position, and I felt the hard press of his arousal against me. The realization sent a thrill through me, a mix of desire and apprehension. His hands moved to cup my face, tilting it so he could look into my eyes again. "You’re beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

The sincerity in his gaze took my breath away, and for a moment, I felt a connection stronger than I had ever imagined possible. He leaned in, capturing my lips with his in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. I responded with equal fervor, my body pressing against his, desperate for more. As the kiss deepened, I felt his hands exploring, one slipping under my blouse to caress the skin of my back, the other sliding up my thigh, inching closer to where I ached for his touch. The sensations were overwhelming, a heady mix of pleasure and need.

When he finally broke the kiss, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. His breath mingled with mine, creating an intimate cocoon that seemed to shut out the rest of the world. "Cassara," he murmured, his voice a ragged whisper filled with raw desire. "Tell me if you want to stop."

I shook my head, my fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble. "No," I whispered back, my voice trembling with anticipation. "I don't want to stop."

He smiled, a slow, wicked grin that sent another shiver coursing through my body. His eyes, dark with hunger, bore into mine. "Good," he said, his voice dark and promising. "Because I’m not done with you yet."

I felt his fingers deftly pull my underwear to the side, his touch sending electric jolts of pleasure through me. My breath hitched, and I bit my lip, trying to stifle the whimper that threatened to escape. His hand moved with deliberate slowness, heightening my anticipation, making my body respond in ways I couldn't control. The contrast between the cool night air and the heat radiating from our bodies was intoxicating. My mind was a whirlwind of sensations, each one more intense than the last. His fingers traced a path of fire across my skin, every touch igniting a new wave of longing.

I could feel his breath hot against my ear as he leaned in closer. "You like this, don't you?" he whispered, his voice a seductive purr that made my knees weak. "You want more."

A soft moan escaped my lips despite my best efforts to contain it. My body arched towards him, seeking the pleasure his touch promised. He chuckled softly, a dark, knowing sound that sent a thrill through me. "That's it," he murmured. "Let go, Cassara. Let me take you where you want to go."

His fingers found their target, and I gasped, my hips bucking involuntarily at the sudden surge of pleasure. He moved with a skill and confidence that left me breathless, his touch both commanding and tender. I could feel the tension building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter with each passing second.

"Do you feel that?" he whispered against my neck, his lips brushing my skin. "Do you feel how badly your body wants this? Wants me?"

I nodded, unable to form words, my mind lost in a haze of sensation. His fingers moved faster, driving me closer and closer to the edge. Every nerve in my body was on fire, the pleasure almost too much to bear. I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulders, desperate for more.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice a rough growl that sent shivers down my spine. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me."

"I want you," I gasped, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I want you so much."

His smile was triumphant, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "That's right," he murmured, his fingers never slowing. "You're mine tonight, Cassara. All mine." The intensity of his words pushed me over the edge, and I cried out, my body convulsing with pleasure. He held me through it, his touch gentle but insistent, prolonging my release until I was left trembling and spent in his arms.

He hardly gave me time to catch my breath before he lifted me effortlessly, his strength both surprising and exhilarating. In one swift motion, he pulled down his trousers, his movements sure and unhurried. The world around us seemed to fade away, the sounds of the festival becoming a distant hum. The chance of someone stumbling upon us felt thrilling rather than alarming, adding an edge of danger to our encounter. I felt the tip of his cock teasing my entrance, sending a fresh wave of anticipation through my already sensitized body. My breath hitched, and I looked into his eyes, seeing a predatory hunger there that both scared and excited me. His hands gripped my hips firmly, positioning me just right.

"You feel that?" he whispered, his voice a low, seductive growl. "That's what you've been craving. That's what you've been denying yourself." He slowly pushed inside me, the sensation overwhelming. I gasped, my fingers clutching at his shoulders, needing something to anchor myself. He moved with a deliberate slowness, allowing me to feel every inch as he filled me completely. The stretch was delicious, a mix of pleasure and a hint of pain that made me want more.

"Gods, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "So perfect." His lips found mine again, the kiss fierce and demanding. I could taste the intensity of his desire, the raw need that mirrored my own.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing him to move, to take me. He obliged, setting a rhythm that was both relentless and measured, each thrust driving me closer to another peak. The world around us ceased to exist; there was only him, only this moment. Every time he pulled back, I whimpered in protest, and every time he thrust back in, I moaned in pleasure. The connection between us was electric, an unspoken understanding that this was what we both needed, what we both craved.

He angled his hips, hitting a spot inside me that made me see stars. "Right there," I gasped, my voice breaking. "Please, don't stop."

"Never," he promised, his pace quickening, his control unraveling. "I'll never stop, Cassara. Not until you come for me again." The pressure built within me, coiling tight, ready to snap. He felt it too, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, anchoring myself to the only reality that mattered in that moment. "Come for me, Cassara," he commanded, his voice rough and demanding. "Come for me now."

And I did. The release was explosive, ripping through me with a force that left me shattered and breathless. I cried out his name, my body convulsing around him, pulling him deeper into my core. He followed me over the edge, his own release hitting with a guttural groan, his body tensing as he spilled inside me. We clung to each other, our breaths mingling, our hearts racing. The world slowly came back into focus, the sounds of the festival gradually creeping back in.

After we regained our strength, we went our separate ways. Before parting, I offered him a drink if he ever found his way to the tavern. He gave me a lingering look, a wicked smile playing on his lips, and nodded. As I made my way back to the festival, I spotted Caty near the edge of the crowd, chatting animatedly with a tiefling. When she saw me approaching, she handed a slip of paper to the stranger, who gave her a friendly wave before disappearing into the throng.

Caty met me halfway, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "You look like you had some fun," she said, her smile teasing and knowing.

I felt a blush creep up my neck but managed to tease back. "I could say the same thing," I replied, sticking out my tongue. The fatigue of the evening was starting to catch up with me, and I let out a long sigh. "Let's go home. I'm tired."

As we walked back through the festival grounds, the noise and lights seemed to soften, casting a warm, almost dreamlike glow over everything. I glanced at Caty, her carefree demeanor a stark contrast to the turmoil that still lingered within me. She linked her arm with mine, guiding us through the thinning crowd.

"You should have seen your face when you came back," Caty giggled, nudging me playfully. "You were glowing."

"Stop," I laughed, feeling both embarrassed and amused. "It was just a dance."

"And a kiss," she added, waggling her eyebrows.

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. "And a kiss," I admitted. "But that's all. We went our separate ways afterward." I felt bad for lying but I was embarrassed for a reason that made no sense. We continued walking, the festival slowly fading into the background. The streets were quieter now, the bustle of the day giving way to the calm of the night. The cool air felt refreshing against my flushed skin, and I took a deep breath, savoring the tranquility.

As we approached the tavern, Caty squeezed my arm. "You know," she said softly, "it's okay to have fun, Cassara. You deserve it."

Her words hit me harder than I expected, and I felt a lump form in my throat. "I know," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "It's just... complicated."

Caty nodded, her expression understanding. "Life always is. But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy the good moments when they come."

We made our way above the tavern, where the rooms sat quietly in the soft glow of lantern light. We had graduated into separate rooms a while ago once Caty started having more company. “Thank you for reminding me,” I said with a genuine smile, pulling her into a warm hug. As we parted, I waved to her, and we headed to our respective doors. I fumbled with my key, feeling the comforting familiarity of its worn edges. But as I pushed my door open, an uneasy feeling crept over me, making me freeze in place. Something was off. The room, usually my sanctuary, felt foreign and hostile.

My eyes swept across the dark space, stopping at the open window where the curtains swayed gently in the night breeze. Someone had been here; that much was obvious. I felt a familiar sense of paranoia, as if a pair of eyes were watching my every move. Steeling myself, I cautiously moved towards my bed, where a gift box had been placed. The wrapping was elaborate, topped with a frilly bow that seemed out of place. My brows furrowed in concern. Alarm bells were ringing loudly in my head, urging me to get rid of the box immediately. But curiosity, a dangerous whisper in the back of my mind, began to pull my strings. I removed the lid, causing the walls of the box to fall open, revealing its gruesome contents.

Raw, cold terror ripped through me as I fell backwards onto the ground. My hand flew to my mouth, choking back a sob. There, lying on my bed, was a disembodied head, mouth hanging open, eyes staring lifelessly. Daeron’s expressionless face stared back at me, his once vibrant eyes now dull and vacant. A note I hadn’t originally noticed had fallen to the ground with me. With trembling hands, I picked it up and opened it. The words were written in a dark, elegant script that sent a chill down my spine:

“Did you miss me, darling? Consider this a reminder of our unfinished business. Don’t think for a moment you can escape me. Your body, your soul, they will be mine.”

My blood ran cold. The terror and horror of the message mingled with an icy realization. This was Astarion’s doing. He had returned, and this time, he wasn’t playing games. The weight of the threat pressed down on me, leaving me breathless and paralyzed with fear.

[putalittleloveonmelody]

He Knows What I'm Like

Inspired by On The Loose (lyric video)

He knows what I'm like, and he likes it. He likes me, so much that he fell for me twice... three times, four...over and over again. I'm out of my mind for him, and he likes that too. Likes how I'll run, drive, fly back to him no matter where we are, just to make him tear up the room the way he did that night we met....

I'd taken a flight and in my exhaustion I ran right into him. Literally. The slightest tickle of his chest hair as I bounced back, too embarrassed to even look at him properly. And he was all Irish charm and kindness, pet names and reassurance. Simultaneously calming and tensing in some inexplicable way.

Weirdly comfortable... enough to look him in the eye, smile and make a little joke about being clumsy.

I've never understood the phrase one thing led to another until that night. He seemed to find my embarrassment, (and my unicorn suitcase he insisted on collecting for me), adorable. Seemed to find my adorableness arousing from the way he looked at me with a mischievous glint in his eye. Asking me to go out for a drink because he just didn't want to say goodbye... and how do you say no to that?

I was out of my mind, he just made me feel that way. Free. No judgment. Dancing through my jetlag. Feeling so many eyes on me as I lost myself to the beat, to the desire, to my need for this stranger who felt more like home than he had any right to. Especially when we were finally alone, and he was ripping at my clothes, my carefully constructed walls, shredding any sense of resistance I might have had with every scratch, every bite, every promise and filthy word fulfilled. Pulling me to pieces and splitting my heart wide open as I wrapped myself around the truth.

Leaving me in my bra and panties, commanding me to dance for him, just him, in the dark, his work of art, promising there there was nothing to lose. His eyes on me, smoldering, making me feel so hot I could burn down the room. Mumbling almost incoherently about how he should get out while he can... before... but he can't.

That moment...just thinking about it sets every part of me on fire again. Knowing how my body moved, and that no matter how much I liked everybody watching, I LOVED him watching me so much more. More than I should. Climbing onto his lap and pulling him in tight, rolling into him, rolling with everything, running with his mind, my mind, this intense need to make all of this...whatever it was, manifest.

He had felt like nothing...noone before. Like his cock was made just for me. Thick and throbbing and moaning as he slipped through my wetness and demanded entrance to the deepest parts of me.

He called me Petal and coaxed me to open up even more, bottoming out and picking up speed, turning my moans to screams to whimpers as he worked me through I don't know how many orgasms.

He was out of his mind too, and I liked it. Fucking me harder and harder, cursing at the feeling of my cunt constricting around his cock, surrendering to how good we felt, promising to never let me loose again, that we'd never know what it felt like to lose as long as I let him stay buried inside of me.

Threatening to warn everyone that looked at me, fuck me in front of them so they knew I belonged to him, staring into my eyes as he gave me one last orgasm and came inside of me, impossibly turned on by our recklessness and risk, our need to be skin on skin, right now, and probably forever.

Now I'm sitting here waiting for my flight back to him, out of my mind just like he liked it, wrenching my hands together to sooth the nerves, rubbing my thighs together to sooth the need, completely soaked at the thought of feeling him inside me again.

He knows what I'm like, on the loose, but tied to him, needy and horny, impatiently dreaming of getting home, seeing his face light up as he tells me he loves me and calls me baby girl, reminding me I'm his as he tears up our room and rips into me all over again and again... and again.

[crystalbeetle888]

Animal Instinct Pt.3

Charles X reader X Erik In the wake of losing a friend, you seek out revenge on Sebastian Shaw. However, you are not the only one after him, as a team of meddling mutants try to convince you to join forces. Will you give in to these persuasive outcasts, and join their family? or do it alone as you always have?

Master List Pt.2 - Pt.3 - Pt.4

Word Count: 2,187

Content: Violence, swearing, sexual references, possible bigotry it’s the 60s, slow burn, some angst, eventual happy ending, maybe smut?

After waking up at noon from a very disappointing night, you decide to hit the town and get absolutely hammered. Dressing in a pair of Levi’s, a mid-length crop top, and your Afghan jacket, you leave the motel. You didn’t have anywhere specific in mind, only that it needed to be loud and crowded to drown out your self-deprecating thoughts. You were disappointed that you didn’t finish the job, and now you’ve missed your only chance to kill him, and avenge Star. After wandering aimlessly around the streets you finally find an acceptable bar. The room is warm, loud music plays over the speakers, boisterous laughter echoes across the room. Sifting through the crowd you find a seat at the bar and plop yourself down. Drink after drink, you shot down the hard liquor with ease. One of the issues with your regenerative powers is that it takes an unholy amount of alcohol to get tipsy, let alone proper drunk. After a while the bartender decides to just leave you with the bottle of vodka, instead of continuously refilling your glass. You prop your head up on your hand, watching the TV in the corner of the room. “That’s a lot of alcohol for a little lady” A man sits down next to you at the bar, “Fuck off prick” you spit, not even sparing him a glance. He chuckles, pulling out a cigar. You cringe at the scent, reminding you of Shaw and the blood he’s spilt. He pauses sensing your discomfort “You from around here?”, “No,” you reply flatly. You can see him in your peripheral, black flannel, white shirt, wide shoulders, slicked back hair. You turn to him properly “What do you want?” You ask plainly. He chuffs in amusement “Absolutely nothing bub” you hum is suspicion, staring at him momentarily before turning back to the TV. The man continues to sit next to you in silence as you throw back the vodka. Eventually, the bottle runs dry and you pay for your tab, “You sure can handle your liquor” he comments as you start to leave. Hopping off the stool you stumble, the man catching your arm “I spoke to soon” he says. You pat him on his pleasantly muscular shoulder “Thanks” you grin at him, suddenly feeling much better about everything. You give his arm a slight squeeze “Nice” you whisper causing him to snicker and shake his head. Giving him one last pat, you stagger out the bar and back into the street. Ready to head home now that you're successfully drunk. You enjoy the feel of the cool night air against your hot sweaty skin as you make your way back to the motel, throwing yourself into bed. 

After the rather unsuccessful meeting with the directors of the CIA, Charles, and Moira, are escorted by Agent Platt to the Miami coast, to hopefully arrest Sebastian Shaw and his accomplices. The night is warm, the coast guard ship buzzes with excitement as they get ready to approach Shaws’ vessel. Once close enough, the ships spot lights turn on, flares are shot, and teams of speedboats are sent ahead. “This is the US Coast Guard. Do not attempt to move your vessel. Stay where you are” The announcement blares loudly over the speakers. Charles is frosted out of Shaws' mind has he attempts to enter it, “I've lost Shaw, I’ve lost him. There’s something blocking me. This has never happened to me before. I think there’s someone like me on that ship” he bounces from foot to foot anxiously. “Like you?” Moria asks, “I’m sorry, a telepath. This is incredible, I could actually feel her inside my mind. I’m very sorry, but I don’t think I’m gonna be much help tonight, you’re on your own” Moira and Agent Platt look at one another helplessly.

The speedboats are suddenly thrown into the air by a pair of small fabricated tornados “Oh god”, “Jesus”, “Get inside” Platt ushers the two. Rushing through the door, Charles grasps his head in pain, “Are you okay?” Moira asks him concernedly. “There’s someone else out there” he replies, rushing out the door and across the deck “There” he points to the large anchor chains floating out of the water.

The anchor rips through the captain's quarters before splitting the ship in half. The three stand in awe, watching as a set of lights emerge from below Shaws’ ship, a small man being pulled behind it in the water. “Let go! You have to let it go!” Charles tries to yell out to him. “You’ve got to put someone in the water to help him!” he insists to Platt. The mysterious man in the water refuses to listen even as he is pulled under, the submarine diving deeper into the oceans depths. Hurriedly, Charles runs across the deck, throwing his coat off and diving in. He lands on top of the other man, wrapping his arms securely around his torso ‘You can’t. You’ll drown. You have to let go. I know what this means to you, but you’re going to die' The man continues to magnetically hold onto the submarine, dragging them both further out. 'Please Erik, calm your mind' Charles persists, finally able to convince him, they swim for the surface. The submarine disappearing into the dark. Breaking for air, Erik thrashes against Charles “Get off me!” he yells breathlessly. “Calm down. Just breathe. We're here!” he attempts to comfort him. 

“Who are you?” Erik asks panicked, “My name is Charles Xavier”, “You were inside my head. How did you do that?”, “You have your tricks, I have mine. I’m like you. Just calm your mind”. Erik pauses, taken aback “I thought I was alone” he says somberly. “You’re not alone” Charles reassures him “Erik, you’re not alone”.

Waking up alone in your motel room, you were slightly disappointed you didn’t drink harder or bring home that hunky man from the bar. You roll around in bed until noon, still in the clothes from the night before. Given that the only thing worthwhile to do while in Vegas is to drink and gamble, that's what you decide to fill your evening with. Leaving the motel, you note that this is your last night here before you should head back home. Not that you had much of a home anymore. You had friends all over the world, but Star, she really made you feel at home. She wasn’t afraid of you when you revealed your abilities, nor did she judge you for your weird animalistic habits. Finding another acceptable bar you enter, ready to do a repeat of last night. 

Back in London, Charles stands under cerebro, the machine allowing him to view mutants and humans far and wide. He feels connected to them, their thoughts, their memories, their hopes and dreams, he can feel it all. Charles searches through the sea of people for mutants that may be useful in the fight against Shaw. He thinks back to that woman he saw inside Morias’ head ‘Her mutation seemed to be similar, but more versatile than Ravens’. He concentrates on the image of her, trying to find her location. There she is, amongst the fog she sits alone at a bar. Charles can feel her pain and anger, as well as her deep loneliness. ‘Such a unique face’ he muses to himself, gazing at her sad eyes. He finds her features interesting, not in a bad way, she just seems to appear differently than most women, something more untamed? He couldn’t quite place how he felt about her. She had wild looking eyes and messy hair, she wasn’t poorly dressed, just unrefined. Something Charles wasn’t used to in his women. He chastises himself for lingering on the thought for too long, he has a job to finish. Once he selects his favourite candidates, Charles and Erik decide to leave London immediately in order to start recruitting them. He knows who they’re visiting first.

The trip to Vegas was good, Charles using the time to better get to know Erik and the extent of his abilities. Erik also fascinated him, his powers could have so many practical applications. But so many dangerous ones too.

Obviously, by the time they arrived in Vegas the woman was no longer at the bar, but Charles had peeped into her mind briefly to locate her dwellings. The motel was.. dingy to say the least, and the older woman at the front desk tried to make a pass at them as they entered. They politely declined of course, explaining to her they were  here to meet a friend. Walking up to the fifth floor Erik follows Charles lead as they make their way down the hall. "She’s in here" Charles says hesitantly, having seen this woman's violent outburst, he’s not entirely sure how to approach the situation. Erik, not knowing anything about it, gives him a questioning look before going ahead and knocking on the door. 

Absolutely miserable, you lay face down in your bed, you only have a few hours before you're required to leave. You think about going back to London, the connections you’ve built there. You’ve always hated restarting your life again somewhere new, there was always this awkward phase where you didn’t know anybody. A knock at the door interrupts your slightly drunk self wallowing. You lift your head groggily, hair falling messily across your face. They knock again, “Yeah I’m coming!” You yell at them. Stumbling to the door, you swing it open, two well dressed men standing there patiently “Evening ma’am, my name is Charles Xavier and this is my associate Erik Lensherr” You stare at them, blinking slowly. Charles looks at his friend awkwardly, clearing his throat “We’ve come to offer you a job opportunity” Erik says smoothly.

Your mood shifts, the conversation reminding you of your first encounter with Shaw. “I’m not interested” you say shortly, pulling the door shut. Charles wedges his foot in the doorway, stopping you from shutting them out “Please just listen, I know what you’ve been through. I know you seek revenge on Shaw for the death of your friend, but this is not the way to do it. Let us help you, we can bring Shaw to justice together” You are taken aback at his apparent knowledge of you “Please, Y/N, don’t let your fear and anger control you” Charles pleads with you desperately. You loosen your grip on the door, allowing him to open it fully. “May we come in?” He asks quietly. You nod, not trusting the lump in your throat. They walk in awkwardly, standing at the end of your bed as you close the door and sit down cautiously. 

“Thank you, for hearing us out” Charles says, you nod in response “What do you mean ‘bringing Shaw down’?” you ask quietly. “Shaw plans to start a nuclear war with the Russians, his motives are unclear. We do know he is collecting mutants to aid him,” Erik replies, “Mutants?” You ask. The two of them look at each other confused “People with special abilities, mutations, people like us” Charles explains. “Like us?” you raise your brow, looking them up and down. Neither of them seem to be abnormal. Erik looks to Charles before flicking his wrist, the window closes and the metal room fan turns on. You jump as the items coming to life “It’s quite warm in here, don’t you think?” he says nonchalantly. “And you?” you look to Charles. He places two fingers on his temple, a moment passing before you notice the change in Eriks attire.

Suddenly instead of a crisp three piece suit, he’s wearing a short blue sequin dress, a red bob, and a pair of lady's heels. You snort, covering your mouth as you try to hold back your laughter “Pretty good isn’t it” Charles chuckles along. Erik looks to him confused, his sassy bob swaying dramatically “You’ve never looked better darling” Charles jests to him. Erik does look quite handsome, even in his dress you note. You don't notice it, but Charles' eyes glint mischievously, as he is still, obviously, inside your mind.

“So what, you can move objects and you can change peoples’ clothes?” your heart feels somewhat lighter after a good laugh. “I’m a telepath, and he can control metal,” Charles explains, “And you can shapeshift, can’t you?”. You shrug your shoulders “Sort of, people are harder to mimic than animals”. He nods in understanding, “I know someone who might be able to help you with that Y/N. If you join us in our fight against Shaw, we could help train you to better understand the full extent of your abilities. Unlock the secrets of your mutation” Charles eyes light up with passion “So what do you say?”.

You hesitate for a moment. Looking around you at where you’ve gotten yourself, alone, drunk, fucking miserable. ‘This might be the last chance I’ve got’ you think back to Shaw and what he did to Star, about how he got away. You nod your head “Okay, I’ll join you”.

[deeg9]

Could you do a what if Lucy visits Tim in the hospital from his allergic reaction to the vaccine 💙

“Dr. Sawyer is going to tan my hide if we don’t get your oxygen levels back above 95%,” Nurse Betty chastised Tim. “Keep that oxygen mask on until I come back to check on you.” 

She was an older woman, Lucy noted from the doorway when Betty winked at her. Definitely in her sixties or later. She had a porcelain complexion and rosy cheeks. She reminded Lucy of Mrs. Claus, but that was probably due to the red scrubs. 

“Betty, I feel fine,” Tim protested. 

Betty’s head whipped around, her gray curls bouncing in the air. Her hazel eyes narrowed into slits.

“Are you really going to make me repeat myself?” She asked with her hands on her hips.

“Uh,” Tim cleared his throat. “No ma’am.” 

He placed the mask back over his face and rubbed a spot on his hand where the IV was inserted. 

“That’s what I thought,” she said smugly. “And stop fiddling with your IV!”  

Tim dropped his hand and sank his head back against his pillow with a heavy sigh.

Nurse Betty sashayed out of the room with the sass of a much younger woman and Lucy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“Not a word,” Tim said, his voice muffled behind the mask. 

Lucy pursed her lips and plopped down in the chair next to his bed. She pulled out her flashcards from her bag. 

“What are you doing?” Tim grumbled. 

“Studying,” Lucy replied, flipping through her cards to ensure they were all facing the correct way. She had the penal code on the front and the definition on the back.

273g, she read. She closed her eyes and scanned her memory.

Intoxicated in the presence of a minor? She thought. 

She flipped the card over and saw that she got it right. 

Tim pulled out his work phone and started to scroll. She took it as a good sign when he didn’t ask her to leave. 

She needed this.

Today had terrified her. She thought for sure she was going to lose him. Even now while he sat up in bed, the sight of him hooked up to IVs, monitors, and oxygen did little to quell her anxiety. 

He was her TO, so of course she was worried about his well-being. At least, that’s what she told herself in the light of day. Every now and then under the cover of the night, she let herself travel to the corner of her mind that she kept behind a wall. It was the place where she was willing to admit that Tim was more to her than a colleague, a mentor, and a training officer.

But how much more? She wasn’t sure.

All she knew was that he was important to her. 

Tim slammed his phone by his side and grimaced, snapping Lucy back to reality. 

“What’s wrong?” Lucy leaned forward, ready to press the call button. “Do you need the doctor?” 

...

Keep reading on AO3 (Rated T)

[mayhemandtrouble]

Not Giving Up: Chapter 5

Whole story can be found on Ao3, along with more details content warnings.

The sound of silence was cut only by the angry slice of a red saber. The furious crackles of his unstable build pleased Kylo. Reminding him of the hatred that welled within his soul. Of the comforting embrace of the darkness - the power that erased all pain. Alone in the black paneled room, surrounded by three droids that hovered through the air. Firing bolts that bounced off his lightsaber. 

Kylo savored the feel of sweat building on his body, nostrils flaring as he drew quick, deep breaths. Each ominous thud of his boots echoed as his feet twisted along the empty ground - it was a furious mediation to send each bolt whirling back through the air and into the thick walls. Infinitely better than the supposedly tranquil exercises Uncle had taught him. 

“Did you go yet?” The voice was unmistakable and there was only one person in the entire universe that would dare to approach him so warmly. 

Indeed, he was a little surprised by the affection Rey displayed in increasingly greater degrees. His match in the Force was certainly the only person who would think nothing of bouncing between the blaster bolts, leaping up from behind so that her thighs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his shoulders.

“You could get hit.” He smirked, whirling quickly to pull her out of the way of an incoming blast - his hand lifting to deflect it. There was a mock warning in his voice, not truly concerned. Confident in their combined skill, particularly against mere training droids. 

“I’m helping you train.” Her face nuzzled against his neck. Sighing happily and leaning her head against his shoulder, she put thoughts of what he trained for aside. His pull to the light  seemed to grow and with that her comfort with the man steadily increased, her eyes closing for the moment. Content to hold him while Ben continued his training. 

He wielded the saber with one hand,  reaching down to grasp her thigh with the other. Helping support her weight as he whirled between increasing blasts. For a moment the Darkness flickered through him, like an unexpected rising tide. If he could just draw her to him, wrapping her in black silk…

“There is a great deal I could teach you, Rey.”

“You are teaching me. Remember?” A coy murmur into his ear that Ben was entirely unprepared for. He recalled quite vividly how she looked and sounded in the throes of climax. They’d played again, his body stretched out alongside her own. One of her thighs drawn up over his hip - the man still fully clothed - and the two facing each other with his hand dancing between her thighs. Head buried into her shoulder, nipping at her collarbone. 

The memory, combined with the feel of her breath against his ear, was enough to make him lose focus. Grunting in annoyance more than pain as a mild blast hit his thigh. It was impossible to ruminate on the Dark Side when she was there.

“Teaching you is frequently on my mind.” The saber rose to deflect a different bolt, then turning towards the command panel. “Droids off.” 

Rey watched as the droids seemed to disappear into thin air. From her viewpoint, the man was training in her cargo bay. A frustrating little reminder that they were so far away from each other and there was so much distance to cross in all senses of the word.

“Did you go?” Asking again as the Supreme Leader switched off his saber, hooking the hilt back to his belt. Letting his newly empty hand grasp her other thigh, both hands squeezing slowly. Till she laughed and buried her face into the back of his neck. Feeling his hair, tousled from his exercise. “Ben!”

“I went this morning.” The smirk clear in his voice, his hands running further behind him. Teasing her, his gloved fingers slowly caressing till they grasped the taunt curve of her rear. Then pulling her against him. Enjoying the feel of her curves pressed against his back, the little gasp that she issued as his hands squeezed.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Ben grinned, finally twisting his head to look back at her over his shoulder. Her eyes were bright, positively dancing in her eagerness. Rosy lips parted into a wide grin. When she was excited, Rey had an almost childlike brilliance to her and the joy that resonated off her seemed to brighten any room and melt away shadows.

“Ben! Did you get the package!” Her forehead butted lightly against his head and he laughed. Giving her bum a playful squeeze before releasing her and leaning backwards so that she could hop down easily.

“I did, I did Flower. I thought I’d wait till I saw you to investigate though.” He hadn’t bothered to give her package more than a cursory scan for malicious tracking devices and the like. Hux would have his head for such laxness yet Ben could not fathom that his Flower would betray him. She was his weakness, and he must turn her lest she be the death of him. Turning as he heard her boots hitting the floor. 

“Ugh, Ben, I want to know what you think!” Rey’s hands landed on her hips, a sigh of frustration and her features tilted up towards his own. Considerably shorter than him, though you’d never know it by the way she stood toe to toe when they’d fought. His lip curved upwards in a smile on the scarred side of his face. 

Instead of speaking, he simply beckoned her with a finger as Ben walked backwards. With his cloak cast off, and simply in snug leather pants and black tunic, he cut a particularly appealing figure. His black hair tousled, and a gleam in his brown eyes. When the back of his boot hit the bench that lined one wall of his training room, he settled down beside his discarded cloak. Working off his leather gloves while she continued forward.

“Come here.” His bare hands darted out, grasping her own and pulling her forward. Till she tumbled down and sideways into his lap with a lap. It had become impossible for them to mind how much they touched the other. Their connections were growing in strength and yet seemed far too few. His left hand circled her waist, around her back, drawing her close,while his right reached for her chin. Lifting her delicate features for a hungry kiss. His breath coming in a burst against her skin, drawing out a murmur of surprised delight. 

Her own hands lifted to cup his face. Fingers brushing along the long scar that marred his features, right hand reaching up to thread through his black hair. Caressing through the strands and feeling her heart race. Ben’s hunger was growing - it wasn’t hard to feel his desire, the emotion seeming to grow wild in the air around them. Or the press of his physical arousal through his clothing. Never referenced, never pushed.

“I have it right here.” Breaking the kiss to speak softly against her lips. His dark eyes dancing as they met her own. Holding her gaze even as one hand shifted to the side, slipping under his discarded glove and producing the box he’d fetched from Tatooine.

Ben had traveled on his own, barely giving a reason as to why he was leaving the flagship without a guard. Hux rather approved of the Supreme Leader going off without a guard though he made the appropriate token objections just as he had the time before. If Ren died, all the better for him. The owner of the shop had been more interested in doing business this time - the old man indulging him with feigned indifference when Ben slowly pulled back his hood, revealing the features of the Skywalker heir. Jonas didn’t know what Ben was up to, but this was clearly not First Order business and money of this kind, on this planet, could mean everything.

“Have you been carrying it around with you?” Her forehead leaned against his own in amusement.

“Maybe.” Admitting with his own smile. The box was simple, especially compared to the costly gift he’d left for her. A tan bit of stiff cardstock that had once held bits of this or that. A touch worse for wear from reuse -  Rey disliked discarding anything that still had life in it. His broad hand brought the box between them, where they could both watch as he pulled out the contents. Rey leaned against his shoulder while both of his hands carefully lifted the flap at the top edge of the box.

“I’m an idiot.” Muttering softly. This had seemed like such a good idea until now. What had she been thinking - Ben had access to anything in the universe he wanted, one way or another. What would he want with her paltry offerings… This wasn’t just Ben. This was Kylo Ren, no matter how often he made her forget.

“Are these… cookies?” There was no hiding the amusement in Ben’s voice as he looked at the bundle to be pulled out. Covered awkwardly in thin, translucent wrap. A pile of sweets that she’d created in the kitchen of the Falcon - hardly the best place for baking in the world.

“You don’t have to eat them.” It had been a foolish thought. Trying to share with him her pride in learning.  Her shoulders grew taut as he unwrapped the layers that protected her efforts. Two types, a sweet batch that smelled heavily of vanilla and laden with chunks of chocolate, like a child might heap into the bowl. Unaccustomed to the power of determining just how much would be added. Another that was an attempt at a spiced cookie, dark brown with bits of candied fruit peel sprinkled atop that had all but fallen off. Somehow the little smile spreading on his features made it worse. 

Of all the things he thought she might be leaving for him, such a simple gift had never crossed his mind. Perhaps because the gifts he received were barely concealed tokens of appeasement, prayers for mercy. Hopes for favors. Always lavish, often military or tied to the Force. Some relic of the Sith or memento of the fall of the Jedi.

He pulled one of the cookies - more chocolate than cookie really - from the somewhat fussed mass of sugar and affection. Rey’s eyes followed as he brought it to his lips. She’d thought they’d been good but her own palette was hardly… This was the son of Leia, the sudden realization hitting home. An heir of multiple royal houses,  Ben had grown up on the fine things in life. He’d never eaten instant meals, praying for enough portions to stay alive.

“I’m working on my reading by practicing with cookbooks.”

There was a distinct crunch as his teeth bit down. Listening, his eyes lifted back to her own. While he’d tried to consider her past much more carefully, ostensibly to make more effective his twisting her into his Dark Empress, it had not occurred to him that such a thing might be an obstacle for her. Another thing to curse all those who ignored her potential for - Rey burned bright like a star, she was exactly the sort of pupil which academies were founded for.

“I didn’t really have teachers on Jakku. I’ve never really cooked before.  I thought I did all right on these so-” Rey didn’t get to finish. Ben swallowed and sealed his mouth against her own again, silencing her self critique by taking her breath away.

“They are wonderful, Rey. As are you.” His forehead leaned against her own for a silent moment. When was the last time he’d simply sat down and eaten a sweet with someone he cared about? It had to be before Luke had… that night. The night. Was it that boy he’d started to have tender feelings for at Uncle’s academy? He could remember a girl in his youth, sharing stolen pastries while Mother bickered with politicians. Father had laughed to see their faces, covered in smears of sweet goo and powdered sugar. Happy memories, long buried. Things he’d tried to forget. His thumb tracing along her cheek as he took another bite.

“Are they burnt?” One eye closed, her face scrunched but an upward curve of her lips. Pleased with his approval.

“Little crunchy - I like them that way.” His lips, still flecked with a few sugary crumbs, brushed the tip of her nose. Highlighting both their growing affection and the distance that was truly between them. She could feel him. But she could not catch the scent of the treats. Still, her eyes were warm when they met his own. He was stretching the truth a bit, she could tell… but there was such a pleasure in his dark eyes. A light from within that seemed to be growing, affirming her choice.

“I’m glad,” her head nuzzled into his shoulder. Lips pressing a brief kiss along his neck as green eyes closed. One of his arms wrapped around her, holding her close as he munched the last bits of the cookie contentedly. “You should send more.” He teased softly, leaning his head against her own. She cared about him. To realize that you are worth something to someone can be a powerful thing, his lips brushing her hair. For a moment, unbidden emotions growing in his eyes. Having to clear his throat. Especially as she snuggled closer, her arms wrapping around his waist. An altogether more innocent pose than one would picture for Kylo Ren unwinding with the target of his affections and desires.

“I’ll do that.” Smiling, her face tilting upwards back towards his own. Startled by what seemed to be moisture brewing in his eyes. “Ben, are you all right?” 

“Naturally. I am with you.” One hand rose to wipe quickly across his eyes. Another clearing of his throat and he looked down to meet her gaze. Watching the wide smile that lit her face at his words. How she leaned back into him with a warm sigh, with her eyes closing. And even as she faded from his touch, there seemed to be a sense of… rightness. Leaving him not angry but eager for both their next connections, and for a time when his touch would truly trace her skin.

[veebs-hates-video-games]

Time for another installment of a couple games that irritated me and a couple that are good actually. Or maybe it's the first installment of that? I'm not keeping track.

Ori and the Blind Forest went on sale incredibly cheap, and I had been meaning to try it out for a while, so I finally did. It looks great, it sounds great, and I was enjoying the exploration part of it, but the combat is meh at best. I could've gotten over that probably, but the checkpoint system where you have to manually make your own if you ever want to save just does not work for me. I'm either going to forget to make one forever because ADHD and then lose half an hour of progress or waste resources making them way too often, or what actually ended up happening was saving in a room with only one exit that was full of things that could kill me with a single hit, having to retry several times before finally making it through, and then just giving up when the next room needed some annoying timing for stuff and not wanting to reload over and over some more.

Shovel Knight also went on sale incredibly cheap, this time on the 3DS, which I didn't even know it existed on. I was Concerned because I've bounced off so many Critically Acclaimed 2D platformers and metroidvanias lately (aside from Ori there's also been stuff like Celeste and Hollow Knight and something else I'm forgetting), but it turns out it's great and I genuinely enjoy playing it. I'm not super far in it because I keep getting distracted by other stuff, but so far it's a lot of fun and clearly made by people who are intimately familiar with NES-era platformers and what made them look and feel the way they did...which everyone already knew several years ago, but I just got around to it now.

Diablo 3 is...frustrating in a way that is itself also frustrating. As someone who's spent over 2000 hours on Grim Dawn over the past several years, it's safe to say I can get really into ARPGs when they click for me, and people have been comparing Grim Dawn, Diablo 3, and Path of Exile for years. The general consensus I've picked up is that Diablo 3 has waaay less depth and build variety than the other two, but people seem to think it has the most polished gameplay. After playing it a bit I'm not sure why they think that, because it doesn't feel like a revolutionary new level of polish, just like Torchlight 2.5 if Runic had a bigger budget to work with. It does do some things well, but as someone who's never really liked any of the Diablo games, the baggage this carries with it from trying to be a followup to Diablo 2 is ultimately going to be what makes me stop playing, possibly very soon. I could go on at great length about every little thing that's annoyed me while playing (and I have on Discord), but the short version is that I understand why there are people who like it while also being completely unable to myself. I may complain in greater detail later (or just copy stuff from Discord with light editing), but for now I'll just leave it at this.

Diablo 2: Resurrected will be a very brief entry. It was significantly cheaper to get D3 bundled with D2R than it was to get D3 by itself, so I seem to have ended up with both. I was expecting to play it for a few hours and be reminded of why I kind of hated it when I was younger, but it was not to be. The opening cutscene is genuinely great and reminded me of why Blizzard used to be known for having particularly high quality pre-rendered cutscenes, but as soon as it got to the main menu it shat itself repeatedly and failed to connect to Battle.net. Which it needs to do to play offline. On the Switch. Well, at least I got a discount on D3 for failing to play D2R, and as a bonus I got to watch a good cutscene for a few minutes. And now I get to have that 8 GB of space on my SD card back.

Vampire Survivors gets to show up in another post, so that's nice. I'd been taking a break from it for a couple months, but this week I got inspired to go back and finish up some of the stuff I didn't do before. Still such a great game. I'm about 80% done now, and I keep finding new silly things I didn't expect or coming up with increasingly broken and/or nonsensical build ideas I haven't tried before. It's not always the kind of thing I'm in the mood for, but when it is it does what it does so well.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 1 - Morning Sun

Narrated by Krista.

Narrator: I am the holy maiden of Delmond. This tower is my entire life.

Narrator: There is a small theater in the tower, built only for me. Watching a play every day at a certain hour is one of my duties as a saintess.

Narrator: Laughter is prohibited in the tower. Therefore, only tragedies are allowed.

Refugee: Please, kind sir, spare me some food!

Narrator: Beggars, refugees, and injured soldiers wander around the war-ravaged town. Loud wails of despair fill every corner.

Narrator: The sighs and cries form a melancholic symphony, which everyone is involved. The voices bounce off the thick walls of the tower.

Narrator: That’s when I notice the youth playing the role of a soldier with a broken leg. He’s glancing around, distracted, instead of focusing on his role.

Narrator: For some reason, I find myself following the direction of his gaze.

Narrator: He’s looking at a small window. A vine has crept through it, with a small, purple flower blooming on top.

Narrator: The soldier, though singing a song of misery, smiles softly at the sight of the flower.

Narrator: It’s like a beam of light, brightening up the gloomy stage. A light that speaks of spring, a light that doesn’t belong here in the tower.

Narrator: For a brief moment, I lose focus on the play as well. I’m reminded of the small bird who accidentally flew into my room this morning through my high, narrow window.

Narrator: Its bright green feathers were so vivid, so different from my cold, damp room.

Narrator: But I didn’t have any food to treat my little guest with, except a few bread crumbs.

Narrator: I climbed onto the table and guided the bird out of the window. It seemed to be a sunny day outside, and the bird gladly soared away with a flap of its wings.

Narrator: This kind of bird is considered a herald of spring in Delmond. It symbolizes the beginning of a new year, and is therefore also known as the bird of dawn.

Narrator: “The Dawn of Delmond.” That’s what some people call me.

Narrator: Like the first breeze of spring, it’s a herald of new beginnings. The days are warmer, plants bloom, farmers get to work. No one will have to starve.

Narrator: I hope that the people outside the window are having a great life while I fulfill my duties. Like the bird of dawn, I hope to bring happiness to everyone.

Narrator: But no, that’s not what I should be thinking about. I should concentrate on the play instead. My people do not need my smile... they need my tears.

Narrator: But I just can’t get the soldier actor’s smile and the bright colors of the bird of dawn out of my head.

Narrator: After the play ends, I’m led by the guards to my dark room to sit in silence. The guards will stay by my side to count the new “gems” I produced for the day.

Narrator: The heavy wooden door closes behind me, blocking all the light and human voices out.

--

Narrated by no one.

Female Lead: My eyes sting...

Male Lead: You shouldn’t use eye drops so frequently. Can’t you just get a tear or two out on your own?

Female Lead: I don’t even know how to genuinely cry anymore! If it weren’t for the eye drops on my sleeves, I wouldn’t be able to cry at all in the final scene.

Narrator: The priest in the corner of the theater remains seated, staring darkly at the empty audience seats. Krista is no longer there.

Narrator: The Duke swaggers his way into the theater with a scowl on his face and scolds the actors who are still lingering.

Duke: His Majesty has decreed that more gems must be collected this month than the last. Half a month has already passed, yet we still do not have enough.

High Priest: It’s not like the gems could be produced steadily without fail.

Narrator: The priest replies, pulls on his cape, and marches out of the tower, clutching his own gem pendant with his right hand.

Duke: Worship Day is coming soon. We need another idea... tragedies can’t be the only way to make someone cry.

Duke: If we do not collect enough funds for the military, His Majesty’s plans to expand the territory will have to be put on hold. Neither you nor I would be able to handle the repercussions to come.

Narrator: The priest sends a look at the prideful Duke.

High Priest: I’ll do what I can.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5