#my years of running laps around maps

[locke-rinannis]

I—okay. Listen. Do I run around a lot in this game? Yes. Do I spend an unnatural amount of time looking for RP locations that perfectly match a scene I'm looking for? Probably. But over the course of years, I've found some pretty cool spots. And I'm going to share them with you!

Maybe you'll find inspiration to start something new in these areas, or maybe it'll help scratch an itch for a scene you've been wanting to do. Who knows! Just take them!

Also, these are locations found outside of major cities and aetherytes. This list is for people who want to get out into the overworld and away from crowds! (I’ve also tried to find places that are free of hostile mobs, NPCs, and FATEs.

I’ll likely make more posts for other zones, but the three starter regions are accessible for characters of all levels, and a good place to start!

Locations under the cut!

LONE CAMPSITE - Middle La Noscea - X25, Y23 A single, simple campfire surrounded by a few crates and barrels. I think an NPC appears here for one specific quest, but otherwise it's empty! It’s not near any civilization, although you can see Limsa on the other side of the map.

HIDDEN PIRATE SHIP - Western La Noscea - X10, Y18 A really cool ship hidden deep in the La Noscean map, which only became available once they added flight to older areas. You can land on the ship and the walkways that surround it. It’s really a unique and outstanding spot!

HOUSE @ OSCHON'S TORCH - Lower La Noscea - X23, Y39 You can't enter the lighthouse on the hill (unfortunately), but you can go into the small house in front. It has a nice garden in the yard, and the interior is fairly simple and NPC-free.

WAREHOUSE @ RED ROOSTER STEAD - Lower La Noscea - X31, Y21 I don't know why SE made this, to be honest. I've never seen a quest lead here. Nothing spawns, it just exists. Which is great! I wish they did this more. Anyway, it's a warehouse at Red Rooster Stead. A door in a cliffside, full of supplies and a table with chairs, and nothing else.

PAVILLION @ CANDLEKEEP QUAY  - Lower La Noscea - X19, Y38 Previously inaccessible due to a gate blocking you off the pier, you can now fly over to this spot! This location is beautiful, especially at sunset, but unfortunately nothing is interactable. Unless you’re fine with /groundsit, you can't even sit on the chairs. But still, a quiet and interesting spot to meet!

HOUSE @ THE SILVER BAZAAR - Western Thanalan - X17, 30 All of the buildings in the Silver Bazaar are great! This one is fantastic. It's completely empty inside and outside (except for a couple ambient NPCs on the railing up top). There’s a table and chairs under the awning outside, too.

DESERT RUINS - Southern Thanalan - X19, Y17 There are a lot of nice ruins in the Thanalans, but this one in particular has a lot of potential. The only mobs around are some passive fire sprites, and there's an unopened chest in the back amidst all the crates and jars. Environmental storytelling!

TAVERN @ CAMP DRYBONE - Eastern Thanalan - X13, Y24 I know I said I would make this list outside of major aetheryte areas, but this is the one exception I'll make. Only because it has no business being this good. Every chair at every table is available! It's a wonder!! A very nice little tavern.

HOUSE @ THE GOLDEN BAZAAR - Eastern Thanalan - X10, Y16 The Golden Bazaar, like the Silver Bazaar, is all very useful. But there's one house in particular that is better than the others. This interior is big and extravagant and empty: three things we don't get very often in overworld locales!

CRESCENT COVE - Western Thanalan - X15, Y17 If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: I love Crescent Cove. Every building is accessible! And although there are NPCs around, it's a fairly large area to work with. I’ve both led and participated in a lot of great plot events here. I like it a lot!

LILYSTONE - Central Shroud - X28, Y30 A simple tent with a campfire in front, located next to a river. There are some low level aggressive mobs (level 11), but no NPCs or FATEs. I believe there's an early level quest around here, but I almost never see anyone. A neat campsite!

SWEETBLOOM PIER - East Shroud - X10, Y22 This location is found immediately after you take the boat from Gridania to East Shroud. Most people just run right past it and head through the gates, but if you turn around, there are two buildings here! One is a grocer of some kind, and the other is a storage room. There are a couple NPCs, but nothing too intrusive.

SPRIGGAN DIG - Central Shroud - X11, Y16 (Underground) Sometimes, when you're setting a scene, all you want is a simple cave. Just one simple darn cave. This spot provides! There are 2-3 caves to choose from, although each one contains at least one hostile mob and a patrolling golem (level 43). We take what we can get.

SPIRITHOLD - Central Shroud - X26, Y25 This spot is great for its spooky ambience or for a dungeon/prison location. There are six small, empty jail cells against the walls. Just some small level mobs (level 9) wandering around, too.

That’s it! I have several more, but I trimmed them out due to them being either fairly common knowledge (ie, Buscarron’s Druthers, Hermit’s Hovel) or just too many mobs cluttering the field. However! If you’re interested in more, let me know somehow, and maybe I’ll make a Part 2!

Until then, I’ll very likely follow up with more zones. I like exploring quite a lot.

[astridthevalkyrie]

oh my god, bakugo's kind of my friend! | k. bakugo x reader

----> summary: You'd never dare tell anyone that he was your friend. You'd never be so bold. Katsuki agrees. He's definitely not your friend.

----> warnings: quirkless university au, video game violence, fluff n feelings

----> a/n: title blatantly stolen from the office—"oh my god, dwight's kind of my friend!"

----> word count: 2k

God, no, you’re not friends with Katsuki Bakugo.

No one is.

Yeah, okay, that’s not totally true. He’s sort of friends with Ochako, that’s how you met him. He’s actually fairly close to Izuku and Eijiro, his roommates. He tolerates Shoto, might even begrudgingly respect him. And he’s got some weird mutual-depression pact going on with Kyoka. 

But you’re not any of them. And you vehemently deny it when people ask, lest he, heaven forbid, think you’re going around telling people he likes you. You saw what happened to Neito last year when he, just once, said something about his friend Katsuki. You’re pretty sure it was the reason behind his switching majors, too, just to avoid being in the same classes with the terrifying blonde.

Sure, you’re in his apartment. Neito’s never stepped foot in here (aside from The Incident). And you’re well acquainted with the people he does clearly consider not-enemies. Earlier today, you and Momo had been out getting chips and soda for tonight. Just half an hour ago, you’d been playing blind karaoke with Eijiro, Izuku, and Ochako on Kyoka’s old laptop and mic that somehow both still had really good audio quality. Not to mention, you and Mina have had at least one class together every semester since you both started—she always races to slide into the chair next to you on every first day.

And you’re currently sitting on Katsuki’s couch, two feet away from Katsuki, playing a battle royale on Katsuki’s console.

“Behind the building,” he mutters, and you hum in acknowledgement, running to the spot he generously marked on the map.

It started a long while back. You and Denki had been playing some shitty racing game, and you’d very easily kicked his ass, leaving him groaning and flopping back onto Kyoka’s lap, where she offered no pity, rolling his head off with a light shove. As you were laughing at the display, Katsuki had taken Denki’s place on the floor, and all but demanded you pick up the controller once more.

(You’d won again. Terrified, you simply claimed that your controller must be broken before racing out of the room.

Imagine your surprise when, the next time you visited, he’d barked at you to assist him with a multiplayer, ordering a pouty Denki off the couch.)

You like playing, and you don’t have a console with as much storage back home, and you’re too broke to be buying multiple games anyways, so you don’t mind taking advantage of Katsuki’s appreciation for your skill. It’s usually a nice way to end the night, whether you and Ochako end up leaving or if you fall asleep right there on the couch.

Shivering, you bring your feet under the wool blanket you’d brought with you. You’re the only one who finds the apartment freezing. Everyone else typically sheds their extra layers, while you once hunted down Eijiro’s sock drawer to steal a pair of He-Man stockings for the night. 

“Up in the window,” you warn, at the same time he says, “Oi.”

Both of you meet each other’s gaze for a second in bewilderment, before rapidly turning your attention back to the TV. He dodges the shot from the window, and then continues.

“You been tellin’ people I hate you?”

“What?” Your hands almost drop the controller, but you regain control just quick enough to roll out of the way of a grenade. “No.”

“Kirishima said Tetsutetsu told him that Kendo told him that Tokage told her that you told her I hated you.”

If you weren’t nervous, you’d tell Katsuki you were surprised he even knew all those names. “I didn’t say that. I just said we weren’t friends.”

There’s an awfully long pause. You can still hear the sounds from the game, and the chatter of everyone else in the apartment—Hanta’s trying to rap?—but not a word from your couch partner. If it weren’t for the screen in front of you, you’d be nervously biting your nails or just full on escaping, honestly. Not that you’re scared of Katsuki, at least not more than one should be, but…

Well, the truth is you did see him as a friend. Or, screw it, as more than that, if those little arrhythmias you observed in yourself every time he would raise his hand in greeting when he passed you on campus were any indication. And you know it’s going to hurt—it already does—to hear him confirm the same thing that you told everyone when they asked. That you meant very little to him, in the long term.

“We’re not friends, huh?” he finally says, as more of an inquiry than you’d expected it to sound.

Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t stop staring straight ahead, spamming X to whack someone over the head with a bat. “Um. Are we?”

“Isn’t this your favorite game?” he shoots back, as though that answers your question.

“Yes? So?”

Another pause. You climb up to the roof of some building and emote pointlessly before hopping down and ducking behind a bush to heal. Katsuki lets out a mix of a sigh and a grunt, dashing across an abandoned minefield. 

“So,” he snarks, “I only bought it after you told me it was your favorite.”

Faintly, you feel the tips of your ears grow hot. Is that true? That can’t be true, can it? The timing does line up. You think it was back in the first week of October that you mentioned it, and then by Halloween you’d already played several rounds. Between that and losing to Momo in several games of pool, finals month had flown by.

But…

“I didn’t even tell you that.” Your voice comes out meek, and even though you’re in a safe space now, you’re still too nervous to turn your head and look at him. “I was talking to Shoto.” You’d even been half sure that Shoto wasn’t really registering what you were saying, with Ochako an inch away from him shrieking starships were meant to fly-y-y-y-y directly into his ear.

Katsuki grunts. “I was there, wasn’t I?”

If you wrack your memory, you can sort of remember it. He was…on Ochako’s other side? When she got drunk, she usually wanted to whack something, and Katsuki’s arm had been her victim that day, her palm smacking against his elbow at every other sung word.

The heat from your ears travels down to your neck. Over the singing and over everyone else’s conversations, was he paying attention to…you?

“I appreciate it,” you squeak quickly, wincing when you’re shot in the leg, “I mean, that was nice. Thank you. I just—I didn’t think you wanted me telling people we were friends, after what happened to—”

“If you bring up Monoma, I’ll take away your blanket,” he threatens; it makes you chuckle weakly. “You’re not that shithead. He pisses me off. You’re…you know.” You don’t know, actually. “You.”

Yeah, you’re you. You play games with him. You know his friends. You’re the only one who can try to outdance Eijiro to Rasputin in Just Dance. What does any of that have to do with…

“Do you think I ever fuckin’ carried that dick’s bag to class?”

“I don’t—”

“Do you think I had his stupid long ice cream order memorized? Pistachios, on the sides only,” he mimics, and you huff in an affronted sort of way, defensive of your topping choices. “Telling people to shut up so that I could hear what he was saying? Turning up the heat and burning up everyone in the apartment just to keep him warm? Was I inviting him to my place every two weeks just to fuckin’ watch him play Kingdom Hearts 3?”

And so, you finally look to the side. Katsuki’s cheeks are red, and his gaze is still on the television. His thumbs move furiously against the controller, and you have to bite your lip to prevent a quiet you’re really cute, you know that? from carelessly slipping from your mouth.

“But, to be fair,” you attempt, still confused, “you don’t exactly do all of that for your other friends either, Katsuki.”

At your words, he slouches into his seat more, the creases on his forehead deepening as an uncharacteristic frown—a frown, not a scowl—forms on his face. One would think you’d just told him you hated his guts. 

“Yeah.“ His glare flickers over to you for a moment. “Exactly.”

There’s a blast from the TV and a realization that hits you at the same time. 

You’re not his friend. He doesn’t see you as a friend.

The heat finally reaches your cheeks, and your mouth falls open slightly. 

Then, realizing something else, your head immediately snaps back to the screen to see that blast sound had actually been your character getting blown up. 

Your mouth falls open. You’d looked away for a few seconds at best. Which aces are in the lobby tonight?

“I lost,” you tell him, crestfallen. 

Katsuki snorts. “I didn’t.”

He keeps playing, and your cheeks don’t take any time to cool down. Instead, you stare at him while he’s distracted trying to escape the same vicious bastards who hunted you down, and you note that his face doesn’t look any less heated either. For once, it’s clearly not because he’s just getting into the game.

You wonder if that was ever the case at all, or if he just felt the same striking little jolt you did everytime you two accidentally bumped into each other while playing on this exact couch.

“I think I’m done for tonight.” The announcement comes out a bit louder than you expected. “I’ll probably head back.”

“I don’t think so.” Without breaking his eyes away from the TV, he nudges his head in the direction of the bedrooms. “Uraraka’s dead on her feet, and you’re not walkin’ back alone.”

Has he always purposely caused the fluttering in your chest? “Okay, well. Izuku’s still awake, I’ll just take his bed for now.”

Katsuki’s tongue clicks in a fuck-around-and-find-out kind of way. “Alright. Put the controller back before you go.”

“Fine. Where’s the, uh…” You turn your head this way and that, looking for the little box that they all go in.

“On my right,” he offers casually, not a hint on his face that he essentially just confessed to you.

Feeling a little spiteful, you reach to the side, blanket and all, instead of just standing up and going behind the couch like you would any other day. Purposefully blocking his view of the screen as you reach over him to toss the controller into the box, you smirk slightly when another blast signals that he’s died as well.

Only to yelp when a firm arm shoves you down against his chest.

“Would you look at that,” he murmurs, red eyes glittering in amusement as he watches you struggle on his lap, “I lost too.”

Tokage is going to hear a very different story tomorrow. “And how’s that my problem?”

His grip tightens, fingers gently digging into the thick cloth of the blanket that’s draped over you. “I wanna play again. And I’m cold.”

There’s a small, dumb grin on his face that you’d consider kissing off if it wasn’t mirrored by an equally dumb one of yours. You’re pretty sure Katsuki’s never ever complained about the cold in his apartment. But then, he’s never complained about the heat either. If he wants to be a sauna under you, who are you to deny him? Besides, you’re feeling cold too, you might as well just take advantage of the free insulation.

From the table, in the midst of pouring something that looks like cookie batter into a bowl, Kyoka raises her brow at the sight of you, then pats Tenya’s arm and points. 

He mouths something like, “Finally.”

Face burning once more, you bury your face in Katsuki’s neck, and relax in his hold while he presses X to replay.

[dollfacefantasy]

Rookiepillz: Here We Go Again

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: almost a year after the rookiepillz incident, you and your now-boyfriend play some video games together. he's got a special strategy to help you win.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief cockwarming, daddy kink, rookiepillz

word count: 1.8k

a/n: finally. rookiepillz has come back to tumblr. the most anticipated come back of the century in my book. i just needed something silly as a break from school. we'll be back to regularly scheduled programming momentarily. part 1 is here.

“ANOTHER GOJO!” you yell at your tv, flinging your controller to the other side of your couch. You feign a growl and look up at your boyfriend who’s lap you were laid up on. “Another fucking Gojo killed me. Can you believe this? It’s like a curse or something.”

He chuckles right next to your ear and kisses your temple. “You’ll get the win soon. You placed third that time, that’s not bad,” he tells you as you ready up again.

He was one to talk considering he planned and acted out a whole revenge scheme on you when he placed second. But hey, look at the two of you now. Snuggling on the couch, you wearing one of his shirts, playing video games in his lap while he gives you little smooches and whispers sweet nothings to you.

Sure, he used to be your stepdad, but he’s your man now. Sure, he dated your mom just to get back at you for beating him in a Fortnite match, but he also gave you the best dick of your life. And plus, he was pretty sweet when he wasn’t being a total asshole, so who are you to complain?

His arms squeeze around your waist, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, inhaling your scent as you beat on some innocent player in the lobby for having the default skin. He smiled as he watched your eyes light up with glee. He took in every word you said about how dropping at the pool house was the best strategy. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Yeah, he had fucked your mom as part of a long revenge plot over losing a victory royale. Yeah, he did humiliate you by spanking you and then revealing said revenge plot in the middle of fucking. But it’s only cause he knew you’d be his girl in the end. He was just having some fun with his sweetheart, right?

He half-watches you running around the map, giggling when you drive a car off a cliff or start doing the weeknd emote. A smile breaks across his face whenever you kill someone because you lightly tap his forearm and go “Look! Did you see that? I gottem.” And then he’d whisper to you, “mhm, that’s my girl” before planting another kiss on your cheekbone.

But what really got him going wasn’t the precious moments of joy or the sweet expressions of tension when you started losing health. No. What really fired him up was your rage. What could he say? It reminded him of nearly a year ago when he’d pulled you over his knee, the fire that had burned in your eyes. A day he’d never forget. 

All he had to do was be patient for your match to start winding down. Once that notification came up that said there were only 25 people left, that red monster inside you would start rearing its head. The “motherfucker’s” and “god damn it’s” would start flying, and in no time at all, you’d be wearing that adorable pouty expression.

Like right now. He watched your character explode into a pile of loot. You slammed the controller down on your laps and crossed your arms, sinking back into his embrace. “That’s such bullshit. At least it wasn’t Gojo again,” you grumble.

Fuck, it got him hard.

“I think I know your problem, baby,” he says. 

You look at him with a raised eyebrow. The one piece of certain leverage you had over your boyfriend was that you were a better Fortnite player. Whenever he gave you unsolicited advice on your playing, you made sure to bring up the fact that you had beaten him before.

“You’re getting so frustrated, y’know. I think you gotta calm down a bit. Let yourself relax so you can think and focus better. And I think I have a way you can do that,” he says.

“And what would that be?” you ask, tone growing softer as you start to catch on.

“How about you relax on daddy’s cock? I know you can only think straight once you’ve been filled up,” he purrs. His hands smooth up your stomach to your tits, coasting over your nipples that were already starting to harden out of instinct. Because if there was one guaranteed piece of leverage he had on you, it was that special word that you’d seemed so averse to just a few months ago.

“I think that’s a good idea,” you answer. It felt shameful that he could get a rush of arousal from you with just a simple word said in a particular tone.

You stand up, still working the controller as another match starts up. He tugs down your shorts for you, grinning like the madman he was at your lack of panties.

“Look at you all prepared,” he coos and kisses your hip, “You knew you’d be getting a treat from daddy today, hm?”

“Lucky guess,” you respond as he guides you back down. Your knees rest on either side of his thighs. He lines himself with your entrance and pulls you down until he’s bottomed out. You whimper and bite your lip, locking your eyes on the tv to focus.

For the beginning, he really does just let you sit there, nice and full. And maybe he was sort of right. You feel pretty calm so far. Everything is less stressful when, in the back of your mind, you’re noticing the way he twitches within you or the small grunts he lets out when you tighten around him.

You were so warm and tight. Felt just as good as the first time, and fortunately for you, there was no bombshell plot twist waiting around the corner. His fingers rub little circles on the outside of your thigh.

“What do you think? Is it helping, babydoll?” he asks.

“Mhm, thank you, daddy. Fits just right,” you say.

He chuckles at the cute way you say it. You work on sniping some people, he tests out rolling his hips. You sharply inhale but don’t protest. So he does it again. His cock slides through the warm embrace of your walls, kissing your favorite spots deep inside. You still seemed focused enough, so using his hands to hold you in position, he begins thrusting upwards.

Your breaths become longer and shakier, but you will yourself to maintain focus. The number of players was dwindling fast. He was bouncing you on his cock which normally left you empty-headed in seconds. But you needed this victory royale. You really were his girl.

He lets out a groan, leaning back against the couch cushions with his head tilted back. It wasn’t like he needed the win this time. He could let go. And so he did. He pistons his cock up into you faster by the moment.

“Fuck fuck fuck. Daddy there’s only two other people,” you whine in a plea for mercy.

“Almost there, baby,” he grunts. You honestly didn’t know if he was referring to your game or how close he was to cumming.

You don’t have time to think about that though because the circle is closing. You grit your teeth and grip the controller with all the focus you have left.

“Daddy, c’mon, I could win,” you whimper.

“I know, princess. You got this, pretty girl,” he mumbles while his eyes flutter. His abdomen twitches as he feels himself gearing up for release. “Tell you what. If you win this one, daddy’ll make sure you get a special reward later on.”

Now it is absolutely on. You can’t lose this. That’d be even more humiliating than the original rookiepillz incident. You’re dashing around the map as your boyfriend pumps in and out of you. It’s a difficult task, managing to hold off your release and try to win.

But soon enough you spot your targets. At the same time, it seems that Leon is reaching his. “Oh fuck, baby. So fuckin’ good. Daddy’s gonna fill you up just how you like,” he whimpers from behind you.

He bounces you, and you know your own peak is imminent. But you see the other players, and in an absolute miracle, you down one and then the other. The tv flashes gold with your victory as your body seizes with the white hot pleasure of release. Simultaneously, he unloads inside you, firing rope after rope into your tight cunt.

He fucks into you a few more times before actually coming back down to reality. You’re coming down too, melting back against his chest. He’s stroking your face when his eyes catch on the tv.

“Holy shit, you actually won?” he asks. His tone gives away that he’s actually impressed. and that’s your ultimate victory royale.

“Mhm, all for you,” you tease and lazily kiss his cheek.

“God, baby. Making me feel like the luckiest man alive right now,” he replies and reciprocates your small gesture of affection.

The two of you cuddle for a bit longer. You’re finished with the game, having finally gotten the win you wanted. And like always, he was such a sweetheart after, giving you kisses and praise, holding you close, even cleaning you up once he got up. Unfortunately, he had to go into work today, so it wasn’t long until he had to leave. He makes sure you’re content before he says goodbye with a kiss to your forehead.

Later that night though, you were alone at your place just as Leon was at his. You get a text. His contact lights up your lockscreen with the message “Get on Fortnite?”

You smile, hopping on your couch and turning on your console. You text back a “yeah hehe :)” He facetimes you, and you beam when you see his face, something you would have never thought possible when you met him. While you wait for everything to turn on and connect, you ask him about his day and how he’s feeling. He answers softly, heart melting at your interest.

To your surprise, when the game finally loads up, you have a gift. From rookiepillz himself.

“Leon…” you say excitedly.

“What?” he asks, playing dumb at first, “Just open it.”

So you do. You burst into laughter as Gojo appears on your screen next. “You’re so funny. I love you,” you giggle. It slips out so casually, he’s not even sure you registered what you’d let slip. He lets it go for now. He would tease you about it later. Right now, he was just so enamored with you.

As you prattled on about wanting to be the skin with the blindfold on and how he should get one for himself so you could match, he realized something. He’d lose every Fortnite match for the rest of his life if it meant he got you. His own personal victory royale.

[forgeofthenine]

Can I request headcanons for Dammon, and Zevlor unconsciously wrapped his tail around their waist or leg (I can't decide because I love both of it too much XD) when his human gn crush is about to leave? They're surprised because they thought he was being too nice to tell them to leave so they asked with hopeful eyes if they could talk to him a bit more.

I had a great time writing this, I love tiefling tails! I hope you don't mind Anon, I added Rolan into the headcanons too :)

I'd also like to point people over to @underdark-dreams again as their recent tail headcanons have been my latest brainrot and these definitely take some inspiration from them <3

Tiefling bachelors stopping you from leaving with their tails

Dammon

Dammon finds it so hard to control his natural instincts around you

His tail swishes and curls towards you near constantly

It's something any other tiefling can recognise as him showing interest, but to you it's just 'how he is'

This time, you're both talking at his forge, discussing inconsequential things despite the fact it's already falling dark

As Dammons tail starts to sway faster you think it might be that you've overstayed your welcome

Dammons lovely after all and might not want to send you home

Your attempt at saying good night is interrupted however, as a firm tail wraps over your back and holds you in place

As your voice fades, Dammons face bursts into a blush, finally realising what he's done

The tail leaves you almost as fast as it appeared, a disappointing development

Dammon clears his throat, eyes not knowing where to settle, and finally he looks at you again

"Well, would you like to stay for dinner?"

Zevlor

This man has great self-control

Years of military work in the hellriders has perfected how he acts

What threatens to undo that is your very presence

You're with him in his makeshift office again, having a good go over the maps before lunch

Standing with a short yawn, you mention not wanting to take too much of the leaders precious time

It's then that a small panic runs through Zevlor, the man not quite ready for his company to leave, so what does he do?

Wraps his tail gently around your calf

He near hangs his head in shame over how forward the gesture was, even for a non tiefling like you

What reassures him is hearing your laugh ring through the room, surprised eyes looking back up at you

"I'm- I am so sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Zevlor, if you want me to stay, I'd love to."

This man never wants to let you go

Rolan

I can very vividly see how exactly this would happen with Rolan

We all know this man is so, so stubborn and he hates doing what others tell him to

He's the master of Ramaziths tower, it's been a long day of lectures, he's still grading papers despite the raging cramp in his hand

So you creep into his study to try and ease him away and off to his bed

Rolans shoulders tense under your touch before relaxing again, the only response you'll get from him other than a small hum

After what feels like ages, you decide he's much too stubborn even for you

Nothing works, soft words, rubbing his shoulders gently, whispered threats-

It's only once you turn away that a sneaky tail wraps around you waist and pulls

In no time, you find yourself sitting across the wizards lap, his face pressing into your neck

His breath is warm over your skin, his tail even more so as it curls comfortably around you

Rolan sounds truly exhausted when he finally speaks

"I'll go to bed, but only if you come with me."

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 13

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: E (pregnancy sex, lactation, grief)

A/N: Thank you endlessly for being so patient with me while I've been on hiatus ❤ I'm gonna stay off for another couple weeks, but I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long. I appreciate every single person that has stuck with me on this! Thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @the-scandalorian for helping me with this one - you both are the biggest brains and the most wonderful writers and I am insanely lucky to have you on my team. Enjoy! ❤

--

Jackson. 

The image of the map is burned into Joel’s mind, always present. 

More concerned with your safety than anything, he knows you should leave, but as the weeks slip by, what picks at him more is that he didn’t have an answer to your question that day. 

“Where are we gonna go?”

He should be one step ahead. He should be on top of the potential outcomes. He should have a plan, since that’s always been his role. Stepped up with one when he had Sarah, took care of Tommy before the Outbreak, and after, led their way in the QZ. After Tommy left, he still did it, even if he was going through the motions more than anything. Doing it has always been second nature, a means to survive. 

You’d let his lack of answer drop because he knew you didn’t want to leave, and of course, he knew you shouldn’t. Not right now. But still - still - he should have had a plan for something he knew was bound to happen sometime. Blinded by the light of your fierce optimism and wanting so badly to believe in it, he simply…didn’t think about it. The first time that’s happened in decades. 

You’re depending on him, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have an answer ready.

“Where are we gonna go?”

He doesn’t fucking know.  

Wood dust floats to settle on the floorboards around his boots, and he runs a piece of sandpaper over the beam of rough lumber that rests across his lap. The rhythmic sweeps soothe his nerves, and he tries to focus on how good it feels to do something useful with wood again. Something familiar, the dry grain sliding against his palms. A task done because he wants to, instead of as a means to get by like so much else in his life. 

This…this was for him, and for you. 

The late afternoon sun streams through the window in the shed, not quite enough to dissipate the chill. Crisp air breezes in through the open door, the sweet smell of damp leaves blending with the wood and the tips of his fingers are cold enough to stop, but he doesn’t. He has to make the most of your nap times if he wants to get this done before next week. 

Before Christmas - or the closest approximation to the date anyway, using your rudimentary calendar. Celebrating the holiday had been your idea, and like every other time when it came to something you asked for, he couldn’t say no. He said yes when you asked him to cut you a tree, nodded when you pointed to the one you wanted after a trek through the woods, helped you rip strips of red, moth bitten flannel that was worthless for clothing just to watch you tie bows to the end of the branches, as a means to decorate it. 

He was impressed by your constant resourcefulness and ingenuity when it came to the things you’d been given, and at night, when the lantern shone on it and bathed the living room in a cozy glow, it almost did feel like Christmas time. The closest thing to it that he’s felt in years, anyway. 

Placing the sandpaper on the floor and picking up a knife, his mind follows the trail marked on the map. Winding through woods and across open swathes of land, it passes right through your area and he knows it’s only a matter of time before someone else follows the first. He knows that man can’t have been the only one with a map. 

He frowns, gouging the wood a little more forcibly as he works through a knot, and he pictures the curve of your cheek, the delicate line of your neck, the bright happiness in your eyes here. That Christmas tree, in the front room. Torn between the idea of the unknown being just as unsafe as being a sitting duck at the cabin, he is restless with the need to move. The urge to keep you tucked away and protected from the world spreads beneath his skin and grows stronger every day, along with your stomach. 

It’s large enough that it strains against the shirts you’ve borrowed from him, and though you’ve started choosing large sweatshirts instead, it’s begun to push against those too. You’ve begun to sway when you stand in place, an unconscious rock as a means to relieve pressure on your lower back, and he pictures you doing the same with a baby in your arms as you stand next to the cradle that he’s been building.

When he thinks about leaving it behind only to gather dust as he drags you somewhere else, the image eats at him, reminding him too much of another room, left behind to rot. 

Another life, upended by abrupt violence. 

Guilt has always gnawed at him for so many things, and following the mental image of you holding a baby, he adds to the growing list: the idea of another child replacing the one he had. 

He fixates on all the things he couldn’t do for her on that last day but also the things time has robbed from him: the image of her face, the sound of her laugh. The books she liked, the order in which she lost her teeth, the weight of her infant body in his arms. How much of that time he spent without her while trying to provide for her, and how here, he’s got all the time in the world for this new child. His new child. 

More feelings; the knife gouging deeper. Looking forward to a holiday that can’t include her, nervously anticipating holding a baby that belongs to him, looking at you and what you’ve built together and being so fucking happy he missed his mark on that bleak day ten years ago. 

Is it betrayal to feel joy?

He’s not replacing her. He knows that. He knows, and yet the guilt never stops and so neither do his hands nor his mind, both working on fixing other problems that can be fixed. 

Jackson. 

A bed for the baby.

–

“I know it would be cold, but I think I’d rather have snow.”

You look out at the sodden garden, the neat, large borders that surround it blending in with the damp landscape. The fence that Joel built the only visual marker of where it’s at, it’s prepped for winter, buried in a dense layer of leaves and compost. You absentmindedly finger the leaf of a plant you brought inside with you, sheets of rain sliding down the window. 

“Not me,” he says. “Might look pretty, but it would be a whole lot more dangerous.”

The blurred, muted mash of colors outside all blend together, the world a canvas of dingy brown and bleak gray. Everything soggy and limp, everything saturated with wetness: at this very moment, you’d take danger over another day of this. 

Turning away from the depressing sight, you watch him sort through a pile of loose screws and nails on the coffee table. His head bent in his task, his shirt pulls tight across his shoulders as he hunches over and nudges each piece of metal with the tip of his finger, sorting them. Listening to the pleasant clink of them being dropped into glass jars, you go back to watering the plants. 

After a process that had you pouring over the gardening book for days, you left what you could in the garden in order to have a good base for the spring, but took the rest inside, to see if you could keep growing anything through the winter. 

Mismatched buckets and pots, an amalgamation of anything that would hold enough soil to plant a seed in, it was an experiment for sure. Enough was stored in the pantry to get you through the winter if you stayed lean enough about rations, and Joel had been pushing his portions upon you like there was no tomorrow, constantly assuring you that he had plenty. 

“What is this?”

Stopping to stretch his back with a groan, he’s picked up a loose, shapeless scrap of fabric off the couch. 

“Wait –” you protest, setting the watering can down. 

He frowns at it, turning it in his hands, and when you make a hasty grab for it, he keeps it out of your reach with a chuckle.

“This my present, honey?” His facial expression still puzzled, he tries to work out what it is. 

“It’s for the baby,” you explain. Coming to stand next to him, you turn it upright. “See? This is the neckhole, and the arms go here.”

“.......And the legs?”

“I’m not that good at sewing, okay?” you defend yourself with a laugh. “I thought maybe their legs could just hang out in this little…sack area.”

You make a self deprecating face, looking to him for a reaction, and he fingers the bottom of it. 

“That ain’t bad. You should see if you can tie up the bottom, you know, for a draft or somethin’.”

“I used all the spare laces on the pants. I tried to make some, but of course I don’t have elastic and I don’t know how big to make them around the waist for a button, so I thought I could just cut two holes and make like, a little belt so that it would grow with the baby and...”

Your words taper off when you realize he’s staring up at you with an amused expression and you let your shoulders drop in defeat. “This kid is gonna look like they’re from the eighteen hundreds, aren’t they.” 

“I guess you would know, with the books you’re always readin’,” he says with a grin, and the stack of historical fiction next to your side of the bed comes to mind. 

“Oh God,” you moan quietly to yourself. 

Standing with a soft grunt, he bends to press a kiss to the crown of your hair. 

“Don’t worry about it,  honey,” he murmurs. “You about ready for bed? I’m gonna go do a final lap.”

Checking the perimeter of the cabin while you bank the wood stove for the night, he eventually joins you in the bedroom, bringing in the smell of cool night air with him. Already in bed, you’re propped against the headboard with your book in hand, and you admire him as he gets ready for bed himself: the edges of his curling locks catching the light in a glowing chestnut, the warmth held in his tanned skin as he peels off his shirt, the soft give of his still trim stomach as he pads over to bed. He climbs in, adjusting the covers around the two of you. 

“What about Mae?” you ask absentmindedly, skimming the book in front of you. 

He shrugs. “Not bad.”

You make a face at the reception. “What about….Lauren?”

Stretching out on his side to face you, he rests his hand on your bump, smoothing the fabric of your sleep shirt down. A small movement nudges underneath his palm, and the corner of his mouth lifts. An intimate, quiet moment, you keep reading while he chases the constant movements with his touch, his fingers splayed wide, searching. 

“Always so squirrely at night,” he says, the words rounded with softness. 

“Tell me about it,” you sigh. 

You set your book to the side and slide down next to him as he reaches to turn off the lantern, and the two of you lay facing each other, your belly between the length of your bodies. His hand finds your stomach again, and you let yours rest over it, guiding his touch lower. Lower, until the tips of his fingers brush against the band of your underwear and also right where a set of feet (or hands) slide underneath your skin. The taut skin shifts with rapid movement, a sensation that never fails to mesmerize you, but it’s something else when he’s the one who gets to see it. Watching him experiencing it is your favorite. 

“What about Margaret? I’ve always liked that name.”

He makes a face, telling you all you need to know. “What makes you so sure it’s gonna be a girl?” 

You shrug, lifting the hem of your shirt so you can feel his skin on yours, and his hand slides right back into place. 

“Have you thought of any names?” you ask quietly.

“I, uh…I was sorta thinkin’ about June.” His dark eyes flit up to yours. “After June Carter Cash. Or Pearl, after –”

“You wanna name my baby after Pearl Jam?” your eyebrows raise. You’ve heard him humming “Future Days” while working outside, you know the band is a favorite of his. 

He grins at your reaction. “That a no?”

“I should have guessed it would be music related,” you tease with a smile, scooting closer. “I like June. It’s pretty.”

The gentle exploration of his touch soothes you, and you close your eyes to savor it. 

“What about boy names?” you ask. “I can’t really think of any. It’s actually what makes me think it’s a girl, like she’s trying to tell me something.”

“I haven’t thought of too many either. Thomas, for my brother, maybe?”

“That’s a good one.” You yawn, and sleep softly rounds the edges of your words. “Are you ready for next week?”

The preparation of his gift has your hands aching and grasping one with the other, you rub the tender knuckles, working some of the soreness out. Wordlessly, he reaches for your hand and takes it into his own, kneading the joints. 

“I think so. S’kinda nice, havin’ a Christmas.” His touch lingers on the tips of your fingers, warming them. “Too cold in here? I can put another log on if you want.”

“No, it’s just…they ache. They're so swollen they get stiff sometimes. I don’t think the damp is helping.”

You hear it now, peppering the window in the dark. The steady drum of rain on the window, the sound makes the room all the more inviting: warm and safe, his body heat radiating underneath the quilt. He keeps rubbing your fingers, his own larger hands cradling your smaller one, and akin to someone rubbing your back to sleep, the touch lulls you, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“This good?” His mouth brushes lightly against your knuckles, his lips pressing against your fingers before he breathes warm air on them. 

“Mmmm, yea.” Silent for a moment, you speak. “Joel?”

He hums in acknowledgement of his name, and you voice the nightly request you started asking him weeks ago. 

“Tell me what you know.”

A prompt he’s seemingly ready for, he shifts to get comfortable, letting out a sigh. The motion similar to someone getting ready to tell a bedtime story, your reaction to curl tight next to him is the same. 

The first time you asked him this, he barely remembered anything. Other memories taking their place, the finer details of pregnancy and birth were buried deep, most of them forgotten. He remembered the doctor's visits but not the frequency. The general concept of birth but not the stages. The pain, but as someone who didn’t go through it, he couldn’t tell you what labor actually felt like. 

All guesses and long ago recollections, you took them because they were better than nothing. Tonight, he tells you about the night feedings. 

“Babies, they uh…” he begins in his gravely, lowered voice, trying to speak softly in the darkness. “You know they eat every couple of hours or so for a while after they’re born. Weeks of it.”

You nod against his shoulder, listening to his deep drawl. 

“I don’t remember much because when you don’t get a lot of sleep it all tends to blur together, y’know? But I do remember some of them. Peaceful, sometimes. Everything is so quiet and still, and there ain’t nothin’ but you and them, sittin’ together.”

He stops, and you reach up to brush your fingers along the edge of his jaw, just enough to let him know you’re listening. He sighs, a heavy, contemplative thing. 

“They are so small in your hands. So small it’s scary. I remember bein’ so careful, always feelin’ like I was gonna accidentally hurt her, or –” his breath hitches, and he swallows hard. He’s silent for a moment, and your breath slows and evens out. “Anyway, they don’t let you get any sleep, not for a few months, but sometimes….sometimes, you don’t mind.”

Your body loose and relaxed next to his, you’re on the edge of sleep when the words tumble softly out of your mouth. 

“Joel?”

“Yea?” 

“I’m scared.” The confession is whispered into his bare skin, and you breathe in his comforting, familiar smell, the steady drum of his heart beating underneath your cheek. His hand is a weighty drag down the line of your spine, the feeling of it steadying you. 

The wind blows outside, rain pelting the glass. 

“I know, honey,” he answers. “Me too.”

–

Long after you’ve fallen asleep, he stays awake, his mind lost in a memory. 

Her tiny body rigid with deceiving strength, he struggles to force her arm into a small sleeve. His hand is huge compared to her fragile arm, her skin downy soft under his palm, and moonlight shines through the window in her bedroom just enough to light the features of her scrunched, upset face. A small wail pierces the darkness, and succeeding in dressing her, he lifts her up. 

One hand cupping her entire bottom with the other covering her back, he makes low shushing sounds with his mouth to soothe her, inhaling the milky sweet smell that clings to her skin. 

“Hey baby girl, shhh. I got you. I got you.”

Her tiny face burrows into his chest, her body squirming until she gets comfortable, and he keeps soothing with low hums, his hand rubbing a slow circle over her purple pajamas as she settles. 

Moving slowly so as not to disturb her, he sits down in the rocking chair and continues to hold her; the carpet plush under his bare foot that gently pushes off the floor. His sleep blurred eyes focus on the small turn of a glass butterfly that hangs from her window, the rounded curves catching the moonlight as she sleeps on his chest. 

He lets the unearthed, vivid memory wash over him as his chest constricts, the pain suffocating. Finding himself in this position more and more since you started asking him about what he remembers, he closes his eyes and succumbs to the pain: worth it, to see her face again. To remember things he’d thought he’d forgotten. 

The edges of the memory blur and crumble, his mind losing its focus on that purple room and on the cusp of sleep, he tries to grasp and hold on tight to the details until they fade away. 

–

“Keep your eyes closed, okay? Wasn’t much to wrap with.” 

Anticipation thrums through you, your features lax with fondness as you wait patiently on the living room floor with your eyes closed. A fire crackles in the wood stove next to you, shadows pooled in the corners of the living room where the light doesn’t reach, and you scoot a little closer to absorb more heat. 

Never one to linger in bed, he’s been up since dawn, and when you awoke alone, there was a  weighted, peaceful stillness in the air—a significance to the day that was at best, a guess. Still, you felt it all the same: through drinking tea with him on the back porch this morning, through reading on the couch this afternoon, through helping him prep the small feast you allowed yourselves for dinner. 

You hear and feel a shift in the air when he comes to sit in front of you, setting your present at your feet. 

“Okay, you can open ‘em.”

Laughter bubbles bright and loud when you see what it is.

“Joel Miller, you shouldn’t have.” Picking up the bottle of vinegar, you tilt it in the light to see how much is left: about half, which is a find indeed. “How long have you been hiding this?”

He shrugs, looking pleased with your reaction. “Not too long. I found it when I went to check out that last cabin. I know it’s not a lot, but I thought it would be useful.”

Vinegar means pickling, means cleaning, means acid for the soil of your plants that you moved inside for the winter, and even though the label is half peeled off and the contents might not be as potent as they once were, you have never been so happy to see a bottle of the stuff in your life. 

“Thank you,” you say softly, leaning forward as much as you can, presenting your lips for a kiss. He gives you one, and you pull back, your mouth twisted in an apologetic pout. “This is a way better gift than what I got you.”

“That’s not true,” he argues. “You fixed my favorite jacket. Feels brand new.”

After snagging it on a tree branch while hunting, he had been so disappointed when he inspected the size of the rip when he came home. Handing it to you, he had declared it no good anymore and told you to use it for something else, but knowing it was his favorite, you’d been mending it in secret while he went out for the day. Textiles being a scarcity aside, that jacket was also your favorite: it’s the one he’s been wearing since you first started out; the sight of it comforting to you. 

“I actually got you somethin’ else, but you’ll have to close your eyes again.”

You automatically squeeze your eyes shut, your hands playfully grabbing the air as you squirm on the floor, and the sound of his low chuckle makes you smile wider. Hearing the front door open and then close, you frown when the object he places at your feet sounds heavy.

“Okay, open em’ up.”

It’s immediate, the way your expression drops from delight into something more reverential. Your breath frozen in your lungs, you reach out and touch the smooth edges of the cradle. Tracing the perfectly fit together corners, you take in how small it is – so small - but perfect. 

Your eyes lift to meet his, tears blurring your vision. “Did you make this?”

“Yea,” he replies softly. “I kept in the shed, workin’ on it when you were napping. I knew we needed somewhere to put her, so I thought –”

“Her?” Your fingers brushing along the neat edges, you look up at him with a small, watery smile, and he matches it with a soft one of his own. 

“Sure, why not. You’ve convinced me.” Affection is open and obvious on his face, the lines that normally crease his forehead softened as he watches you look it over. 

“This is…so much, Joel. It’s beautiful. I don’t even know how…I was thinking we’d have to put her in a dresser drawer or something, and I –” Overwhelmed with his thoughtfulness, you’re at a loss for words. “Thank you,” you eventually settle on, hoping the sincereness in your words expresses everything you feel. 

“You look so surprised,” he says, teasing laced in his tone. “Did you really think I would get you just a half bottle of vinegar for Christmas?” 

“I don’t know!” you laugh, a hitch in your breathing as you settle your emotions. “We can’t exactly go Christmas shopping, so I figured you did the best you could.”

He reaches to swipe a tear from the round of your cheek, and you chase the heat of his palm, leaning into it. “It’s been so long since I gave anyone a Christmas present. Glad I’m not totally out of practice.”

Gently sliding the cradle out of the way, you rise to your knees to give him a kiss. 

“I love it.”

You kiss him again, his lips tinted red from the wine at dinner, and the bitterness sweeps through your mouth when he gifts you a slow slide of his tongue. The tentative heat held in his response passes to you, and swallowing his hunger, it spreads through your limbs to pool between your legs. Pressing forward, your hand reaches out for his shirt, and you deepen the kiss.

You hope it conveys everything you want to put into words but can’t: appreciation, love, gratitude. Keeping your mouth on his, you slip your hand around the back of his neck and threading your fingers up through his locks, you hold him in place, his hand grasping your elbow to steady you as a soft sound rumbles from his throat. 

“I guess you really liked it.”

You just nod, pulling him in for another kiss, his familiar taste and scent filling your senses as he presses himself closer, and when you let out the catch of a moan in your throat, he pulls back just far enough for you to see hooded want in his eyes.

“We done with the gift exchange?” He presses a kiss to your your throat, his lips warm and delicate over the skin he finds and you nod, letting him taste.

“Here,” he asks, his mouth moving just below your ear, “or in the bedroom?”

“Here,” you breathe, cupping his whiskered cheeks to pull his mouth back to yours. Your hand slips between his thighs, finding him half hard under his jeans, and groaning into your mouth, he shifts on the floor to kneel in front of you. Your fingers work the buttons of his flannel open, pushing it from his shoulders at the same time he grabs the hem of your shirt to work it over your head and off. Undoing your bra, you fling it onto the floor as his hand reaches back to tug his t-shirt off in a smooth, overhand motion, and your hands drop to his belt buckle, tugging it open.  

The back of your knuckles swipe through the line of coarse hair that leads under the waistband of his jeans, a slight shakiness to your movements betraying the need you feel, and it’s something he sees and rewards with another consuming kiss.

The rest of your clothes tugged off in a rush, he rests his back against the couch and guides you onto his lap, the soft inside of your thighs straddling the outside of his firmer ones. One of the only comfortable positions you’ve got left, it’s been your favorite because it gives him unfettered access to your breasts and when he palms them in appreciation, anticipation sends a warm thrill up your spine. 

Using both his hands, he cups the sides of your jaw to draw you in, holding you in place while he opens your mouth with his, his tongue sliding smoothly against yours. His fingertips dig into the nape of your neck, one hand dropping to palm the plush weight of your breast, and you kiss him back even harder while he delicately teases your nipple with his thumb. 

The calloused pad skims over the top of it, the contrast between the tender touch and the fierceness of his kisses making your head swim with arousal, and pulling back, he takes in your kiss-swollen mouth only for a moment before bending his attention to your breast. 

Using the cradle of his hold, he pushes it up to draw the peak of it into his mouth, and your head tips back, a broken cry coming from your throat. 

“Please. Please.”

He would give you anything – anything – you ask for, and this is no different. He laves his tongue over the peaked bud, dragging firm pressure over it as he draws it into his mouth, and when you dig your fingers into his hair and pull with a moan of pleasure, his hand cups the underside of your breast to push more in. Frenzied, rough, desperate for more, a deep groan slides out of his throat at the same moment you feel a strange, tingling sensation on your nipple. 

Surprise shows in his brown eyes when they flick up to yours, and pulling back, you both stop. 

“Was that –” you ask, and he looks down at your breast, his thumb dragging delicately along the peak. 

“Yea, I think it was,” he answers, slightly mesmerized. 

A drop of milky liquid hangs from the tip of your breast, and he wipes it away, smearing it on your soft skin. Another one takes its place, and his eyes flicker with interest. 

“Holy shit.” 

The words slip out faster than you can stop them, and the corresponding lift of his eyebrows makes you laugh, his own deeper chuckle joining your lighter one. He pulls you in for a kiss right as you’re leaning down for one, and you find there was no hunger lost while the moment was broken; instead it comes back even stronger as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he holds onto your back with a splayed grip so fierce it makes you squirm. 

Unsure of when you started grinding your hips against his, you work them slightly faster. Spread and wet on his lap, you’re so achingly empty right over where you can feel the heft of him pressing between your bodies, and fire lights under your skin with how much you want him to just take. 

He’s been so careful with you, so considerate in his handling of your body these last few weeks. Always taking care of every need that you have, he’s done so with no less attentiveness, but you can tell that he’s been holding back—a telling rigidness to his muscles when he moves above you, a tightness to his strokes every time he fucks you as if he’s keeping his body  in check to make sure he doesn’t lose himself. Missing the sharp edges to his love, you kiss him harder, and he groans as if in pain, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth. His beard rubs your chin raw, the pressure of his response forcing your body to tip back slightly in his hold.

“Fuck me,” you whine, the words breathless against his lips, and he groans again, breaking your kiss. 

“Christ, honey, turn around.”

Desperate to follow anything he tells you to do, you grip his shoulder to steady yourself as you turn yourself around, your back to his front. His mouth is an immediate brush against the nape of your neck, a heady sensation that has you melting back into him, and his hands travel up your sides to cup your breasts, pulling at the peaks. 

Your ass grinds in his lap, the thick, stiff line of his cock trapped between your bodies, and when you arch your back and lean forward in a silent invitation, he reaches down to line himself up. Easing yourself back down, the stretch is delicious but so tight it’s almost unbearable. 

“Goddamn,” he groans over your breathless whine. 

Wrapping your smaller hands around his thick wrists for purchase, you pull at your bottom lip with your teeth as you sink all the way down to the base, and when he’s fully seated inside you, he bands his arms just under your breasts in a tight hold, keeping you in place. You can feel how hard he’s breathing between your shoulder blades, his beard rubbing against your skin, and squirming in his lap with a soft sound, you start to roll your hips. 

He’s so deep this way, so much deeper than he’s been in weeks, and taking a moment to get used to it with a couple of slick strokes down, you chase the thick, filling stretch of his cock. Leaning forward, you brace your hands on his knees, and the deep groan you hear from behind you makes you wetter; your body physically reacting to his wordless praise. 

“You feel so fucking good, honey. So good.”

His hands traverse your back—one splayed wide to drag heavily down your spine, the other curled around your hip to guide your movements–and when you bend forward as much as your stomach allows, his hand drops to your ass, spreading you from behind. 

“I wish you could see how wet my cock is. I want you to see how you’re soakin’ it.”

“I can feel it,” you moan, your hips working faster. 

You can: every down stroke is smooth and audible, the tight walls of your cunt stretching around him to take him perfect and fluid every single time, and when you start to pull him deeper, he sits forward with a cinch, pulling you back towards his body. The solid, warm wall of his chest cages you in, his arm looping around your hip so his hand can reach your clit, and when he finds it, everything spreads warm and thick from your center outwards, your head tipping back to rest against his shoulder. 

“There’s my girl,” he smiles when your body drapes pliant and loose against his, your hips chasing the pressure of his fingers. Forward into his touch and backwards onto his cock, you can hear him breathing heavy and low into your ear and your hands find his forearms to hold on tight, your nails digging into the thick muscles as you work yourself faster. 

He rubs your clit in quicker, more precise circles, just right with the firm slip of two calloused fingers, and your thighs tighten in their tremble, your release a bright, shining edge that beckons. 

When it happens, it breaks you – clamping tight around him as you’re suspended in a state of strained rapture, his hand comes up to cradle the base of your throat in a possessive hold while his other hand keeps working, and a second wave takes you by surprise, washing over your skin as you cry out. You can feel the wetness that soaks his fingers when he reaches down to feel where you’re stretched around him, letting out a groan against your skin. 

His hand smears damply across your hip as he lifts you from his lap, slipping out as he guides you on to your hands and knees, and loose and pliant, you let him position you anyway he wants. 

“Just a little more, honey. Just a little longer,” he coaxes. 

Resting your cheek on the floor, you arch your back to put yourself on display for him as you catch your breath, but it’s stolen just as quickly when he gives you a rough, open mouthed kiss to your cunt. He eats you like a man starved, the wet muscle of his tongue flattening against you as he keeps you open with his hands splayed on your ass, and a deep rumbled groan is felt against the inside of your thighs when you reach back to tug on his hair. 

His tongue dips deep inside you for a taste, and just when he pulls back, he goes in for more, like he’s changed his mind because he can’t get enough. Harder this time, more forceful, the action pushing your hips forward, and when you cry out, he’s dragging himself back, pulling away to position himself. 

The heat of his body radiates along the back of your thighs, the thick tip of his cock notched against the slick dip of your entrance only for the barest of moments before he pushes himself in with a stroke of his hips, and you hear a hiss behind you, one you almost don’t catch over the low moan that spills out of your mouth.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips fitting neatly along your ass. He slides out and then back in, giving you time to adjust to his size. “I want – Christ – I want…can you take it harder for me?”

“Yes. God yes. Please.”

He answers with a rougher slide in, an audible muted pound of his hips against your skin. “You tell me if it’s too much, honey, okay?”

After turning your head and nodding so he can see you, he gives you another rough, smooth stroke in and then another one, each one filling you until the air feels like it’s being pushed from your lungs, and then he picks up his pace, letting out a low, heavy breath for every thrust. It sounds obscene: his rumbled, low groans and grunts, but you can barely focus on it for how sensitive you are to his thickness. Everything tighter, the fit is a snug, slick slide in every time, and you squeeze around him, earning you another hiss of appreciation. 

“This pussy is gonna kill me,” he groans and then holds nothing back: his hips snapping against you with his hand resting flat on your tailbone, every jolt rocking your body forward. 

Exactly what you asked for and what you’ve been missing, you let him know. 

“It feels…it feels so good. God I’ve missed this.”

“Yea?” The word is a breathless growl, and you clench down on him again. “What about this? Did you miss this too?”

His hands wrapping around the inside of your elbows, he tugs you back and up until your back is arched with your ass in his lap and then he’s pounding into you. 

“Joel!” 

Faster and harder, his hips work ceaselessly behind you for a dozen strokes and when he comes, his fingers dig tight into your skin, your arms aching as he holds you in place to take every last drop. Panting behind you, his strokes slow into a rhythmic grind and sliding out, he eases you gently down onto the floor where you slump, your cheek resting on the fold of your arms.

Dazed and loose, with a content smile on your lips, you lay down on your side and he joins you, dropping to the floor. His arm slung over his eyes, you watch his pulse pound in his neck as he tries to catch his breath. 

“So…was that also a Christmas present, or….?” you tease, the question coming out slow and saturated with contentment, and he laughs, a breathless thing that’s carefree and deep. 

“Sure,” he answers, rolling onto his side. “Merry Christmas.”

The light of the flames dancing across your bare body, shadows slide over his tanned skin and the bluntness of his reply makes you laugh. 

The two of you look at each other for a moment, his hand coming up to brush away an errant lock of hair from your temple. His hand glides down the length of your torso, coming to rest on the swell of your stomach and leaning in, his mouth meets yours.  

Still smiling, you cup his cheek and with a slick slide leaking between your thighs, pull him closer to deepen the kiss.

[cas-kingdom]

Something Borrowed, Something Blue

A/N: Just a little something.

Title: Something Borrowed, Something Blue

Summary: Ten is back, and by God are you going to hold his hand so he never leaves again.

Words: 1220

He had registered it when it happened, of course. The feeling of warm, human skin—your warm, human skin—against his own, that familiar rapid pulse beneath his fingertips, was not something he could ever forget. And when it was this specific hand you were holding onto, attached to this specific arm leading to this specific face, he truly couldn’t blame you.

He guessed it had been a good hour. An hour since he’d regenerated, since you’d recognised his new-but-not-at-all-new face and your own face had lit up, utterly devoid of the dread you’d had before. And you’d hugged him, and he’d hugged you, and you’d latched onto his hand and hadn’t yet let go. Running around the TARDIS, landing her, holding Donna’s box, riding in the taxi, sneaking through the crash zone…your hands had been wrapped tightly around the other, each a constant, solid presence.

So, though he had registered it, the conscious recognition didn’t come until he yanked you towards him when he instinctively reached with that hand for the screwdriver. Balancing on your haunches beneath him, you stumbled a bit. An apology was on his lips until he glanced down and saw the white knuckles wrapped around his.

He looked up. Recovered from your little topple, you were staring straight at him.

“Y/N.” He said it softly, eyebrows raising, and you blinked. There was a deep concern in your bright eyes. Not visible on the surface, only he could see it, because he could always see through you.

He lifted his hand, the one attached to you, and the corner of his lips lifted slightly. “I need my hand back for a minute,” he said.

Your face seemed to visibly pale. You sat properly on the ground and slowly released your death grip, your fingers returning to their pinkness. You didn’t quite let go though, your gaze seeming anchored to your hands as though…as though it was the one thing keeping him there with you.

The Doctor hummed. “Hey, you.” You caught your bottom lip between your teeth and looked at him. He stretched out his free hand and tapped your nose. “It’s alright,” he promised you, offering a smile.

You nodded, hesitant at first, but more assured as you quickly dropped his hand and drew it back to your chest, holding it there with the other. “I know.”

The Doctor reached into his pocket for the screwdriver, eyes never once leaving you. You were distracting yourself from not physically feeling him, scratching at your head, twirling hair around your fingers, that leg shake you did whenever you felt restless. He couldn’t quite remember you being so anxious when he’d been him all those years ago. An inquisitive child, you’d followed him absolutely everywhere, but you hadn’t needed the assurance of his hand in yours to know he wasn’t going to leave you. But then, times had changed, and so had the both of you. He’d regenerated and regenerated and regenerated since, each one sucking a tiny bit more life from you than the one before. No wonder you’d grabbed the first hint of familiarity you’d received in fifteen years and not let go.

The Doctor stretched his legs out and rested his crossed ankles on a concrete block. He drew a box in the air with his sonic, a map of sorts, hoping to figure out what exactly the spaceship was and how he was expected to save little old Earth this time. Without looking down, he jerked his head a little to the side. “Space next to me,” he said.

A moment later you were beside him, crossing your legs beneath you, hands on your lap as though you had no clue what else to do with them. You watched as he fiddled with the sonic and sat in silence for a good ten seconds. Until he stopped. And he turned to look at you. And when your eyes met, his brows furrowed, and a smile, full of nostalgia and sadness, slowly spread across his face. He reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing the skin. Tears sprung to your eyes.

“I missed you,” you whispered.

“I know. Come here.”

He stretched his arm out, allowing you to move closer and all but bury yourself in his side. His arm wrapped around your back and the other went instinctively to your head, holding you close to his chest.

Your gentle sniffles weren’t hard to miss. He kissed the top of your head, lingering there for a bit, shutting his eyes. “I’m here now, Y/N. I’m here.”

“But for how long?”

He couldn’t answer that. Something was niggling in the back of his mind. This face was being borrowed for an undetermined amount of time, some cruel trick from the universe that by God he couldn’t help but be thankful for.

“Let’s not worry about that now,” he said. He removed the hand from your head and put it between you, feeling you grasp it. You held it tightly, that little hand, that hand he had watched grow, that sweet girl he had raised, and sent a silent prayer to whoever would bloody listen that he’d have longer than he dreaded this time.

“You look different, you know,” you spoke softly a moment later. You turned your head to rest your cheek against him.

The Doctor rose a brow, running his tongue along his teeth. “That so?”

“Still the same, but different.”

“Ah. You look different too, you know. From when this face last saw you, that is.”

 “I grew up.”

The Doctor frowned, subconsciously holding you that bit tighter. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, you did. Can you stop that, by the way? Growing up? I’m not the biggest fan, you know.”

You pretended to think about it wiping at your eyes with your free hand. “Don’t think so.”

“Big shame, that. Massive shame. Probably the biggest shame of all. I remember when you were little little, when I had to tie your shoelaces for you and peel your oranges.” The latter was still true now, come to think of it. “But you’re still that same little girl, aren’t you, hm?” He lifted his head a little to peer down at you, trying to catch your gaze. “Aren’t you, Y/N?” There was a point hidden in those words. A point he’d had to reiterate so many times before on so many different levels. No matter his face, no matter his personality, no matter anything, he was still the same. The same Doctor. The same alien. The same being who loved you with all of his hearts. And he needed to remind you of that, to prepare you, because if what he feared would happen happened, he wanted—he needed it to be easy. For your sake. As easy as it could be. In whatever way helped you. In whatever way gave you back that life he’d inadvertently had a hand in destroying.

You drew away from him to look him in the eyes. Your own eyes were glistening, but you sniffed and held them back. You smiled lightly, then rose on your knees to wrap your arms around his neck in a tight hug. The Doctor returned it without hesitation, shutting his eyes.

“‘Course I am,” you said quietly. “Just like you.”

“Just like me.”

Doctor Who Masterpost

[scarletwinterxx]

je ne sais quoi - jaehyun

this man posted on ig and suddenly i'm here writing😅 srsly like he's sooooooooo boyf material it's making me mad hahah anyways hope you like this one.

this can be a part 2 of this scenario, someone commented for a p2 so here you go😅🤍

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

: a bit suggestive, fluff, whipped jaehyun

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2023 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"Babe, what's your 2024 goal?"

You hear your boyfriend ask from beside you, letting out a chuckle before answering him. Something he might not expect to hear

"Be pregnant"

It was almost comical, the way his head turned towards you in a slowmo manner like he did not just hear those words right.

"What?" you asked, blinking innocently back at him. When he kept on staring at you, you couldn't help but burst out laughing. Leaning over rest your head on his chest.

You feel him kiss the top of your head, "I mean if that's what you want, I'm sure I can make it happen"

Snickering at his words, you know he's smirking right now without even looking at him. "Is that what they mean when they say fuck around and find out"

He laughs, pulling you even closer to him. Doesn't matter the rest of the couch is vacant, he wants you always as near to him as possible. After the surprise you gave him on his birthday, the man's practically (and sometimes literally) on his knees for you. Jaehyun wasted no time to ask you to be officially his. And even though the two of you started out on a casual relationship, you were elated to finally call the fine young man your boyfriend.

And it's been a fairytale ever since. If Jaehyun was lowkey before, it definitely changed now. Any time the two of you are in public, best believe he will find a way to stick by your side the entire time. His eyes stay on you and only you.

"But like really? is that your goal for next year?"

"Why? Do you not want kids?"

"I want kids with you, that's the only correct answer for me"

His words got you folding, ready to give him all. If he said he wants to have your kids then who are you to say no.

"You can't tell me that when I have the worst baby fever, like seriously. Just imagine our kid in cute outfits this time around oh my god"

"I mean if we get to it right now I'm sure we'll have a baby by Christmas next year"

You don't know if he's being serious or just indulging you right now. But the very thought of a baby that looks just like Jaehyun is enough to make your ovaries explode metaphorically.

"Shut up, now you're just teasing me" you hit him on the chest

"Babe, you would definitely know if I'm teasing you"

"Are you like serious though, no fucking around. Do you want to have kids? maybe not now but in the future something like that" you mumble

He smiles while listening to you. It's like you have no idea how precious you are to him, you can ask him for anything and he'll always do your bidding. You can ask him for the stars, he'll map out the entire universe for you.

"Yes, and I was being serious. In the future, I want to have kids with you. I'm in it for the long run baby. I don't really see anyone else being the mother of my children"

"Children, so as in plural" you giggle

"Yea, but it's up to you. How many you want, that's how may I want to"

You look up at him, smiling so big it almost hurts. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Jeong Jaehyun?" you whisper

"As you do, my love. I don't even understand it sometimes, all I know is you're on my mind always" he said looking straight in your eyes

He holds the back of your neck, pulling your face towards his until your lips are against his. He can feel you smile against the kiss, making him do the same. You move from sitting beside him to sitting on his lap, his other hand holding your hip in place.

The two of you get lost in each other's touch, kiss until you run out of breath. He kisses your face, down your neck until he finds the spot only he knows about. The one that makes you squirm and make all the pretty noises he's crazy about.

"At this rate, you're going to give me a child before new year comes" you breathed out. Hugging his head against you. You can feel his lips continue on doing the magic, it will definitely leave a mark you thought.

"Should I start calling you daddy now?" you rasped out, vou feel him stop what he was doing,

"Oh you're definitely getting it now" he says before standing up, lifting you along. Hands under your thigh's as he carries you towards the bedroom, your giggles echoing down the halls.

[usedtobecooler]

thinking about rockstar eddie signing reader's tits

warnings: reader with a vagina, piv sex, explicit content.

he’d be so smug about it too, groaning just quietly enough for you to catch it as your fingers tuck under the material of your low cut shirt to pull it further apart, expose your tits even further. you push them together with the heels of your hands to make them even more enticing, still gleaming with sweat from the exertion of bouncing around during the set.

“do you mind if i…?” he asks, smirking, eyes dark and glistening with mischief as he asks without truly asking. you nod, a flirty smile gracing your face as he touches calloused fingertips to the soft swell of your breast, stretching the skin ever so slightly as the dark sharpie dances along your heated flesh. you stifle a moan by biting your glossed bottom lip, when he swipes his fingers into the dip of your cleavage ever so gently as he pulls away.

you share a knowing look between each other, and he nods over to his security in the corner. an invitation. you nod again, batting your eyelashes. he gives his attention to the others around you as you’re whisked from the crowd silently, knocking shoulders with a burly man who guides you towards the tour bus.

you’re barely in the bus two minutes before eddie’s appearing and slamming the door shut, backing you into the lounge with heavy hands on your hips and slick lips on your neck, nipping and biting and claiming. branding.

“you’re gonna smudge the fuckin’ signature,” you gasp as he buries his face into your cleavage, sitting down and hauling you into his lap, the barely there cloth of your underwear doing nothing to help conceal the wetness of your core along the thick, rough seam of his jeans.

“fuck the stupid signature,” he groans, harsh hands tugging at your shirt until it’s ripping, falling from your frame and exposing your bare tits, “think my teeth marks on your pretty neck are consolation enough.”

you moan, fingertips burying in the loose curls that have fallen out of the messy bun that looks a little worse for wear on the crown of his head. you tug and pull until he’s grunting, punching his hips up into your cunt and your thighs instinctively try to clench, obstructed by his own spread legs in between.

your hands roam unashamedly, pulling up his shirt and running along sweat-sticky skin, mapping out every inch of him. you feel like this is a dream, the hottest one you’ve ever had as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, mean teeth clamping down until you’re whining and rutting your pussy down onto him, begging without opening your mouth.

“you want it, huh?” he asks, mouth popping off of your nipple, tip of his tongue flicking out. he looks almost innocent, those deep, dark eyes wide and searching, “you on birth control?”

you nod your head so fast you swear it makes you dizzy, “the pill, religiously for five years now,” you admit, rocking your hips again until you’re choking another pretty moan from him.

it happens in a flash. you share a look and then suddenly you’re tearing at each others clothes, your fingers working fast to unzip his pants, get a look at and a feel for what’s underneath, barely hiding even through the starchy jeans.

he’s fucking big. huge, even. has your cunt clenching before he even runs the sticky tip along your dripping core.

and he’s so nonchalant with it. lazily leaning back against the sofa, one arm tucked behind his head and the other grabbing his shit loosely as you sit up on your knees, sink down on it until you’re whimpering and dragging your nails along the softness of his pale stomach.

he snaps his hips up to meet your bouncing, the curved head of his cock running along your spot just right, enough to have you moaning open mouthed and gasping into the dense, humid air.

he’s a talker, talks you through it all — “can’t believe you’re takin’ me so easily, baby. pussy’s stretching like it was made f’me,” he watches as you sink up and down, creamy release coating his shaft and dripping down onto his mons, creating a tacky mess. the noises are fucking filthy.

it’s like an out of body experience, wanting to be so fucking good for him. wanting to show him how girls can fuck when they want it so fucking bad.

his calloused thumb dips under the hood of your cunt, finds your clit like he just knew it was there all along, and he cackles when you whine and cry his name, bucking your hips into the touch, “you’re so sensitive, you gonna cum already?” he taunts, eyes flickering up to yours, though he’s blurry in your fucking vision as your eyes half-lid and prick with tears at the edges.

“eddie,” you beg, unsure if you’re begging him to keep going or fucking stop or something else, your bouncing stuttering as the heat blooms in your core, winding up tight, “oh shit, fuck—!”

you cum with a squeak, eyes rolling back into your skull as you clench sporadically around his cock, enough to have him finally putting his fucking hands on your hips, bouncing you himself as you lose it, body tending and going lax just as fast.

“that’s it, sweetheart. fuckin’ cum for me, shit,” he grunts, pulling you in with a firm arm around your back, “grippin’ me like a vice, sweetest little pussy i’ve ever had — fuck babyyy.”

his moans are like music to your ears, his hand gripping at your waist and tugging you down as his cock pulses inside of you, cum painting your fluttering walls, milking him for all he’s worth.

it’s quick, the way he grabs you a fresh shirt from the small bundle of merch on the table to your side, an apologetic, sheepish smile on his features as you slide up and off of his spent length, a hiss escaping you both.

you know what this was as well as he does. not a single regret as you stand up on wobbly legs, his cum already threatening to spill from you and drip down the insides of your thighs.

“we’ve gotta go, sweetheart,” he’s soft spoken as he hands you the shirt, which you take gratefully. he pulls up his pants, tucking himself away — it’s so mundane, a simple task, but you can’t look away, thinking with your pussy as you watch him handle himself.

“thanks for the good time, rockstar,” you’re a little louder as you speak, a dopey little smile taking over as you slip the shirt on, “you lived up to the hype.”

eddie smirks, standing up from the seat and backing you towards the door, so close that you’re almost touching chests, as he leans behind you to open the door, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin, “don’t be a stranger, sweetheart. i’m back in a few weeks — make sure to get ol’ ricky here’s number, i’ll set tickets back for you.”

your heart flutters, against your fucking will, “aren’t you sweet. guess i’ll see you soon then, eddie.”

you do see him again. and again after that. and maybe even a third time…

[shadowbriar]

Fred Weasley - Clandestine Love

Pairing : Fred Weasley x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 2.5k Warning : Angst. Synopsis : His unwillingness to come out of the shadows have finally caused him greater damage one couldn't possibly fix. Notes : Post no 1 for my 1 Year Anniversary Celebration. Don't forget to fill the form here if you'd like to be tagged for my future works. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ Fred Weasley's Masterlist click here. Taglist : @jsjcue @coffeehurricanes @ell0ra-br3kk3r

He lightly traced the shape of her nose, admiring each freckle on her face as if they were his road map to home. She was fast asleep, chest raising and falling at a steady pace. It is certainly one of the world's unexplained mysteries, how she seems to hold such magnetism that would always charm and hypnotise him.

Behind these four walls, he could find comfort and bravery to actually show his true feelings. About how he admires her as if she’s a goddess that walks the Earth. Like she was graced with beauty beyond compare, he struggles to look away though his eyes were burning from her glow. Like she was the oxygen he’s desperate to breathe in. And in return, she made him feel wanted, needed, and most importantly, loved.

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel appreciated by his friends and family. No, he knows full well the amount of love and support he’s received from the people around him throughout the years. The cheers and laughter people always greet him with were the very evidence of the said affection. But the heart is a silly object and it often acquires silly things, and for this one time, his heart desires her.

Being in love with the House Prefect when you’re the sole cause of trouble and mischief certainly was never on his list.

Fred never thought that hearing about how she gave a student detentions for the whole week would make his day better, having been the one who’s had the longest list of detention himself. He never thought that her whining of night patrols would keep his lips tucked in a smile for hours. He never thought that laying on her lap as she talks about her frustration about the House points would be the very thing he looks forward to each day.

As sappy as it sounds, he never knew the word love until he met her.

The boy lets out a silent sigh. The question she asked for what seems to be the hundredth time last night haunts him. The words were carved into the back of his head, her voice playing in an infinite loop as it pushed him closer to the edge.

Why can’t we go out in public like this, Freddie?

Merlin knows just how much he wished he could love her out there, show the whole world that she’s his and his only. How it peels his skin whenever they’ve got classes together yet he couldn’t sit next to her. How each time he spots her at the corridors he wishes to be able to pull her away, giving her a quick kiss before continuing whatever mundane activity they were having. 

But Fred knew that the mess he’s made over the years has given him quite the reputation that could tarnish her’s. If it weren’t for her strict and rigid parents, demanding her to be the perfect daughter and keeping the true noble pure blood lineage, he would have spent no other second to kiss her at the Great Hall. To take her to Hogsmeade date every other week and send her love letters whenever break comes. To go and introduce himself to her parents.

Fred was never ashamed of his name, but for once in his lifetime he feels complete and utterly unworthy.

“Good morning.” He says softly, noticing the light movements she makes as she begins to regain consciousness “Sleep alright?”

She smiles, still not opening her eyes as she buries her face to his chest, “Never better.”

Fred runs his fingers through the strands of her hair, gently stroking them as if they were the most fragile thing he’s ever held. He rests his chin on top of her head, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo that he so much loved. Her body heat was giving him the comfort he’s been looking for all night from all the tiresome scenarios and questions running in his head. She was his one and only anchor to sanity and he’s certainly not ready to part from her soon.

“What time is it?” She asks, voice muffled from his shirt “Flitwick asked me to help with some paperworks before classes start.”

“5.40.” He says as he peeks to the clock laying by the bedside table “I thought you have some essays due for Divination class?”

“I do,” She sighs, this time sitting up “I’m planning to finish that first before I go to Flitwick. I have so much to do and so little time. I wish there were more hours in a day, 24 is just not enough numbers.”

Fred chuckles, following her to sit up and kisses her clothed shoulder, “I’ll miss you today.”

“I’ll miss you too, Darling.” She says with a smile, closing the gap between them as she plants a chaste kiss “I’ll see you at Charms class, alright?”

He nods, not saying another thing as he watches her pack her belongings.

“Oh, and good luck for your Quidditch match today!” She says cheerfully as she skips back to him, planting another kiss, this time more passionate than the previous “I’ll cheer for you the loudest.”

—-

She chuckles lightly in between the kisses. He has one hand resting on her waist while the other is cupping her face, fingers tracing her jawline. Sneaking themselves in the locker room now, Fred hopes that he could freeze time and make this moment last just a little bit longer. Put it in a bottle so he could stare and relive it each night before he goes to sleep. But even with such magic in their sleeves, certain things are too good to be true.

Whenever they’re together, the blissful feelings he felt would be mirrored on her. She could feel her skin burning from the electrical sparks. Her cheeks are always tired from smiling and stomach hurts from all the laughter. If she could ever choose the moments which she could relive in an infinite loop, it would be any moments shared with him.

“What?” Fred asks with a raised eyebrow, an amused smile plastered on his handsome face.

“Nothing,” She says, clinging her arms on his shoulders now “I just find it adorable when you’re clingy.”

He rolled his eyes, “You say as if it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not. I never said that.” She remarks “Don’t put words in my mouth, Mr. Weasley.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of other things I’d rather put in your pretty mouth.”

“Shut up,” She says, slapping his shoulder “We should probably go. Our friends might already be frantic looking for us.”

“Let them have their kittens.” He whispers in a low voice as he continues to leave trails of butterfly kisses on her jawline “I want to stay here forever.”

She chuckles, “And if they find us here? What should we tell them?”

Fred stops, pulling away as he bites his lip. He let out a half-hearted huff of sigh, forcing a smile as he placed one last kiss on her temple. His body language changes drastically. Shoving his hands down the pocket of his trousers as he looks everywhere but her eyes.

“You’re right, we should go.”

His agreement was never a surprise but still an upsetting sight to see. She could feel the crack in her heart grow slightly bigger. His dejected expression was only half of what she’s been feeling lately, she’s sure of it. He could never understand the real burden she’s been feeling for having to hide their intimacy when all she wanted is for the world to be their sole witness.

“Or maybe.. We could just tell them the truth if it ever comes to such an event.”

“Darling,” Fred calls with an apologetic smile “You know we can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Fred remained silent. He let out a defeated sigh, tucking the few loose strands of her hair behind her ear before kissing the tip of her nose gently, “We should go. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

She bites her lower lip, wanting to prolong their conversation but his match will begin any minute now. It wouldn’t be pretty to have him being searched by the Gryffindor Quidditch team and caught with her. Certainly the worst possible scenario to happen. It would ruin everyone’s evening before the match even began.

So she forced a smile, nodding, “I’ll see you tonight.”

—-

Fred stood proudly in the middle of Gryffindor Common Room, one of his hands being raised high along with George’s as the students cheered for them. The two were the MVPs of today’s match, helping Harry to catch the snitch before the Ravenclaw’s seeker could as they launched the bludger at the poor boy. A rough game, quidditch.

He could see her, standing by the stairs as she leaned against the walls. The smile that was decorating her face warms his heart, having to know that she’s happy for his victory too. He couldn’t wait for the night to pass, for people to leave him alone as they find their drunken selves back to their own rooms so he could sneak out with her and spend the night at the Room of Requirement instead.

He couldn’t wait to tell her the details of today’s match, though she was there to witness the game herself. He couldn’t wait to tell her how every inch of his body felt hot as he scored another goal. He couldn't wait to tell her how it felt to have adrenaline pumped through his veins as he hit the bludger, quietly praying that the damage done to the poor Ravenclaw wouldn’t be that severe.

But his sight of her was abruptly blocked as Alicia Spinnet pulled him down the table. A hint of blush was visible on her cheeks. Fred couldn’t even spare a word and ask what in the world she was doing before the catastrophe happened.

Alicia kissed him.

Fred froze on his spot, mind going foggy as he tried to process the event happening. The loud cheer of students suddenly felt muted. It took him a few seconds to finally regain consciousness and pushed Alicia away. When he looked back to the stairs, she was gone.

“What in the bloody hell were you thinking?!” Fred spat at Alicia, rudely shoving her away. He was never one to be cruel towards girls, but the confusion and horror plaguing his mind has taken over himself that he acted the way he did.

Leaving the baffled crowd, Fred storms out of the Common Room. At this point he couldn’t spare to give any mind to the hushed whispers of his rude action and his now pursuit to chase her. If people want to talk, let them talk. Perhaps it’s time for them to know about their secret love affair. Fred knew sooner or later, no matter how hard he tries to keep their relationship tight in a box, this one tiny secret would seep through the thin walls of the castle. Yet if he could ever have a say about it, he would choose to have it without hurting her in the process like this.

“Love?” Fred calls as he heard her quiet sobbing, stopping on a secluded corner now “I am so sorry for what’s happened there, I didn’t know why—”

“You know why, Fred.” She says between her sobbing, looking at him with hurt in her eyes that he’s never seen before “I’ve told you a dozen times already.”

“You think I wanted Alicia to kiss me?” He asked, offended.

“No, but I know that you know why she kissed you.” She says with her voice breaking “I’ve told you— I’ve.. I’ve asked you so many times to just go out of the shadows but you never listened.”

“How is it anything related to that?”

She let out an appalled expression, angry at his failure to connect the dots. Surely it isn’t hard to understand that Alicia kissed him because she thought he was single, right? It shouldn’t take a genius to understand that everyone thought that way and what would be a bigger celebration than to kiss your teammate over your shared victory?

“You’re impossible,” She mutters, running a hand through her hair “This is exactly why I asked you to come forward! To let our relationship be public. This is exactly why!”

Fred stood still, not saying a word.

“Why can’t you just listen to me?” She asked with a defeated tone “Why won’t you love me in the open?”

“Love,” He calls softly, taking her hands gently “You know why.”

“Actually, I don’t.” She says in a desperate tone, walking away from him so she could conceal the fragile forefront “I mean you’ve never given me a clear reason as to why we have to keep on hiding and isolating every other door we enter. It’s not like the world would combust into flames if people know we’re seeing each other.”

Fred smiles apologetically, “We can’t.”

“Why?” She pushes, finally asking the worst question that has been plaguing her mind “Are you embarrassed of me? Is that it?”

“What, no!”

“Then what is it?”

“I just— I can’t. Not now.” Fred says in frustration, unintentionally raising his tone “Love, please. Let’s not argue about this. This isn’t the right time.”

The calm inside her has long passed, replaced with a storm filling her head. She couldn’t take anymore rollercoasters of feeling blissful during the day and having endless anxiety of thoughts at night. If he really loves their relationship, as much as he shows it within the closed doors, then why not take the leap of faith and go public about it? What’s the worst that could’ve happened?

“There was never a right time for you, Fred.”

Fred winches at her words. He knew that he was ruining them, that he was dragging them down to an unnecessary pool of misery but given the situation and pressure, he couldn’t take any other stress of having to deal with people teasing her, let alone tarnishing her name. Her being the pure blood everyone has always looked up to would definitely cause some words to spread once it’s known that she’s dating a Weasley.

If anything, he’s the one that is afraid of her to be embarrassed.

She stares at him with much disappointment evident in her eyes. He hates to put her in such a place, but there isn’t much he could do. He’s simply not ready for their private intimacy to be a public display where everyone could chew on.

“Love, please—,”

“I can’t keep doing this, Fred,” She says as she finally composed herself better, steadying her tone and controlling her breathing “Not after tonight.”

Fred blinks, trying to digest her words better. The bitter taste of heartbreak started to poison his tongue. He doesn’t like where this is going.

“You either love me or you don’t.” She continues firmly “And tonight you’ve proven the latter.”

“I—,”

“It’s over, Fred. We’re over.”

[flowerandblood]

Song from the Sea (2)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Greyjoy! • fem! oc!reader]

[warnings: physical violence, swearing, sexual tension]

[description: Aemond and Aegon arrive in the Iron Islands, to confirm the arrangements made years ago and the marriage of Lord Greyjoy's daughter to Aemond. (Anon Request) During a break on a long journey, at one of the taverns Aegon drags him to, Aemond meets a woman, who will change his life forever. (Anon Request) Smut, angst, sexual tension, domination.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Watching the waves of blue water lapping against the side of their ship, listening thoughtfully to the restless roar of the element, she considered throwing herself into the sea. Shouldn't she let the Drowned God take her to his depths, take the sea abyss for her husband.

The thought of marriage made her want to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth. Her indifferent face looked at her small, blurred reflection, their huge galley sailing at high speed, which made the whole ship rock, her dark hair, partly tied in a bun at the back of her head was blowing in the wind.

She boarded a ship for the first time when she was five years old. She accompanied her father, Dalton Greyjoy, on one of his short trips. He wanted his daughter to get acquainted with the cold and dangerous sea, to understand what the difficult life of a seaman is. She remembered her admiration for the ship's vastness, its huge sails that practically touched the sky.

She heard the shouts and orders of men, strange, tattooed, without eyes, arms or legs, in elaborate, gray and brown dun clothes, running from one point of the boat to another. Although it seemed like chaos at first to her, then she realized that everyone was working like clockwork, adapting to the changes in the sky and water.

Then she fell in love with the sea.

She first escaped from a stronghold in the Iron Islands at the age of eight. She packed a small bag, in her child's opinion, her most necessary things and sneaked out of the castle under the cover of night, heading towards the port, leaving only a letter.

She boarded Devilwind's galley unnoticed. In the morning one of the boatswains found her and took her to Captain John Senray, her father's closest friend.

Captain Senray was ten years older than her father, his long dark beard was covered with earrings and beads. She still remembered him looking at her, thinking hard, the boat creaking loudly around them from the speed that they had reached at sea.

After much thought, he decided that they couldn't turn back if they were to get the goods on time. He ordered her to sit in her cabin and obey all his orders.

She spent a week on his ship. The men, mostly bearded, with long, sticky hair, smelling of sea and rum, welcomed her as if she were their own daughter. They thought it worthy that Lord Greyjoy's daughter would go on a sea voyage, and they liked that she had no fear.

They taught her how to tie ropes and look at the stars, set a course, read maps and signs in the sky, the clouds that told her if it was going to be clear or a storm was coming.

She helped them with everything she could. They did not allow her to participate in their drunken revels, but they protected her and gave her a sense of complete security, combined with a freedom that she felt every time she looked overboard and saw only the endless sea.

When she returned home a week later, all dirty and plastered, her robes torn, her father greeted her with a love and tenderness that she never knew he was capable of. Although her mother died of worry every day, he was proud that his child felt the call of the sea. He didn't want her to be a plain, gentle lady like her mother.

Lady Greyjoy made her husband happy only twice: the day she gave him his beloved daughter and the day she gave him a son and heir. He considered her death in childbirth to be the natural order of things, with which he came to terms quite quickly, unlike his daughter.

She wanted to throw herself into the sea after her, to apologize to her for all she had suffered. She would wake up sometimes in the night, feeling like her mother was giving birth again, screaming so loud that her heart clenched.

From that moment on, she tried to pretend that the subject of marriage did not concern her. She was at sea with Captain Senray who already treated her as part of his crew.

She knew that her father loved her more than her brother, who had a softer nature, being more like their mother inside. He also swam at sea, but not so willingly, feeling weary from long voyages. Their father often told her that if he could, he would sign over the entire Iron Islands and the rest of his inheritance to her.

However, when the king proposed that they make a deal, her father betrayed her. He explained to her that the Iron Islands with the support of the crown would be richer and stronger than ever. That as her father expects from her and knows that she will fulfill her vocation.

She wanted to spit in his face then, considering that he had abandoned her, as he had abandoned her mother.

But nothing came out of her mouth.

Now, standing on Devilwind's galley, sailing back to the Iron Islands to meet her future husband, she wondered, if it wouldn't be better for her to just end it all.

She could still hear her mother's scream, see the brief fragment of her body lying in blood, that she saw through the crack in the door, which a moment later someone closed, noticing her. She thought, that the same would happen to her. That she would die giving birth to a man, who would be completely indifferent to her.

She shuddered and leaned forward, as they suddenly heard a loud, piercing roar above them. For a moment she thought, that she had lost her hearing, then looked up and saw two giant dragons, flying over them at such speed, that their entire galley began to rock side to side, causing panic. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought, that it was him.

She turned quickly, glancing after the great monsters flying through the sky, and saw, that they began to circle above the ground, landing. She knew, that there was a port nearby and ran to the captain to beg him to dock. She told him, that she wanted to meet her future husband.

Captain Senray and Walter Moore decided to accompany her in case of trouble. The route at night was dangerous and led only to one village. She knew there was an inn there, and that perhaps they had gone there. All three of them knew exactly the owner of this establishment, because they had stayed there more than once. She felt her heart pounding at the thought, that she might soon meet the person, on whom her entire future life depended.

They stepped inside, pulling off their hoods, looking around. She saw him at once, his back to them, watching them warily over his shoulder, his lips pursed. She knew, that it was him, because of his eyepatch and the light shade of his eye, unnatural in this part of the country. With difficulty she looked away from him, feeling her whole body tremble.

They went to the counter and ordered beers, exchanging pleasantries with the host. Then they approached one of the occupied benches. The men recognized them at once, so they only bowed their heads in appreciation and got up to find another place. Only then did they make themselves comfortable, taking off their coats. She now had a perfect view of their table. She barely suppressed an amused smile, as she saw him staring intensely at her and her waist.

His brother was babbling to him, and her future husband was answering him impatiently. He got up, she heard him say in the distance, that he wanted to leave and move on. Her heart squeezed at the thought.

After a while, however, they began to struggle with each other, and his drunken brother practically shouted, that they came here on dragons. Looking at them, she decided, that Prince Aemond's brother was an idiot.

She wasn't surprised, when he walked over to the counter to order something for himself, furious and resigned. She thought, that he had a very interesting face, and his scar didn't take anything away from him. Besides, she'd seen plenty of mutilated men, and such physical deficiencies didn't bother her much anymore.

She got up and walked over to him, figuring, that she wanted to tease him a little. She wasn't afraid of the consequences, she knew, that everything was already decided. She wanted to see, what awaited her, what kind of man he was.

When she bought him a round, he just looked at her searchingly, his face seemed to be made of stone. He was very tense, his eye cold, furious and disapproving. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw, that he had one hand on the dagger. There was some tension between them.

She thought, that he was handsome. That she could go upstairs and give herself to him, if he wanted to. See if he's a good lover. She smiled at the thought.

“Come upstairs with me. By the time we're done, your brother will fall asleep here, on the table.” She said calmly, softly, looking at him with her mouth slightly parted. She thought, that she wanted it. That she needed relief, because the frustration, pain, and fear she was feeling were too much to bear.

She didn't expect what would happen between them. She hadn't suspected, how he would react to her touch, hadn't expected, how wonderfully his sapphire eye graced his face.

She did not expect, that his disability was the reason for his great complexes. She thought, that in King's Landing, where everyone walked around in colorful robes, adorned with rich stones, he must have felt like a monster. She thought, that among her people, he would find acceptance, stop thinking, that he lacked anything.

The thought of him being like her, made her lose her temper. Originally, she just wanted to get fucked by him, but she ended up riding him. Her orgasm was so strong, that it was almost painful, her muscles clenching greedily around him, drawing low moans from him, that sent shivers down her spine.

In addition, she allowed him to cum inside herself, although no other man, with whom she had known this kind of pleasure, had been granted this honor before.

As he left, she slowly began to calm down. She thought, maybe there was hope for them. That maybe she'll find at least a little happiness with him.

However, as she officially entered the hall of her stronghold, wearing her most elegant, black gown, she saw his expression change from shock to fury. If he could, he would kill her with his eye.

She saw him clench his jaw, turn his head away, squeezing his eye shut, trying to calm himself down and not show anything. She wanted to laugh at the sight.

Her father ordered a small feast to be prepared for them, attended by Prince Aegon and her brother, Laren. She was seated next to her fiancé and even wanted to exchange a few courtesy words with him, but he beat her to it.

"Do not speak to me." He hissed softly like a snake, and she pursed her lips, arching an eyebrow, amused, simply taking a piece of roast into her mouth, unfazed. She decided not to force herself on him and waited, until he calmed down.

Her father had been sullen throughout the entire dinner and hardly spoke, leaving the entire burden of discussion on her younger brother's shoulders. Laren was a great talker, and though he tried to get something out of her future husband, he answered practically only in grunts, thoughtful and angry, completely in his own world. She thought, looking at him, that if he could, he would breathe fire and burn them all, including himself.

He was the first to get up after dinner. At first she decided she wouldn't run after him, but then she found herself wanting to drive him mad with rage. She stood up, thinking, that maybe he might even kill her, while doing her a favor. She wasn't afraid of death or the brutality he was known for.

He turned after her, surprised to see, that she had followed him into the chamber, that Lord Greyjoy had assigned him. She closed the door behind her, leaning her back against it, looking at him with a haughty, calm smile.

"Get out." He spoke low, menacing, dangerous, madness in his eye, that made her belly hot. She thought, that he was about to explode and licked her lips involuntarily.

“No.” She spoke calmy, sensually, softly. She saw a grimace cross his face, for some memory of their shared elation, that he wanted to get rid of.

He walked over to her unhurriedly, his eye black, his face expressionless. He grabbed her neck, his large hand slowly tightening on her slender, soft skin, forcing her to tilt her head back slightly.

He stared at her for a moment, and she could feel his hot, uneasy breath on her face. She smelled him again, the smell of smoke and something else, that she couldn't describe. She felt wetness between her thighs for some reason.

"Fucking whore." He spoke softly, lightly, not even blinking, his good eye wide open, as if he was just fighting hard not to strangle her. She smiled at his words, making him purse his lips.

“From what I remember, it takes two to elevate between a man and a woman. So you're just as much a whore, as I am." She whispered, moving closer to him as if to kiss him.

His hand gripped her neck tighter, slamming her whole body brutally against the back of the door with a dull thud. She felt him draw in a breath as he felt her short, tiny knife hidden in her sleeve, pressed against the side of his stomach.

"I could kill you for those words. For such an insult to the prince and the crown." He said through clenched teeth, not controlling himself. She thought, that he had just reached the height of his rage. She parted her lips slightly, impassive, looking at him with dreamy eyes.

"Take your beautiful princely knife from your belt and cut my throat. Punish me for wanting to meet a man, for whom I would give my freedom, my body, whose future descendants would tear my womb. With whom I will fly to King's Landing to be nothing, sewing with sweet, perfumed ladies fabrics, praising his future victories and achievements." She laughed lightly, warmly, feeling her throat constrict not because of his strength, but because of the tears, that she was holding back with the last of her willpower.

She saw him hesitate, something changed in his face. Her words surprised him and knocked him off balance.

"Or let's both assume that it never happened. That you fucked some strange, unknown woman, and I fucked some unknown, strange man. The last joy before an arranged wedding. Isn't that beautiful?” She asked quietly, one tear streaming down her face.

Her mask fell down. Her mouth went from smiling to helpless, her lips began to twitch, her body relaxed, as if she was about to collapse and pass out, her gaze pleading and tired. The knife slipped from her hand, falling with a loud thud to the floor.

She saw, that he was dismayed and surprised. His grip loosened suddenly and he took a few steps away from her, as if he didn't recognize her. She sank to the ground, burying her head between her knees and just started sobbing.

"I should have thrown myself into the sea." She said finally, covering her head with her hands, as if he was about to kick and punch her.

The fact, that he was in this chamber at that moment, was indifferent to her. All the grief, that she'd felt for months, ever since she found out, that her father had sold her, had just been released.

She didn't care what he thought of her, whether he thought she was a whore, an idiot, or a lunatic. For a moment, all she heard was the sound of her ragged breathing, and nothing else. She knew, that he was looking at her.

After a while, she heard him move and sit up on bed, with a loud creaking of wood. She looked up slightly and saw, that he was bent over, his face buried in his hands. She thought, that he was as broken as she was.

She changed her position and lay down on the floor, staring straight ahead at the legs of a small, wooden table, that stood at the back of the chamber. Her future husband looked at her, his expression uncertain and puzzled.

"What are you doing?" He asked, looking at her, as if he was about to faint from exhaustion and frustration himself. She didn't even look at him, when she heard his words.

"I'm lying." She said indifferently. He sighed heavily, burying his face in his hands again, apparently deciding, that it was too much for him.

She heard him begin to unbutton his jacket, then pull off his boots, knocking them to the ground with a loud thud. He blew out the candles lit in the chamber, making it completely dark. Then she heard the rustling of cloth. He lay down on the bed with his back to her, pretending, that she wasn't there.

She thought, for some reason, that she wanted to stay with him. She'd slept on the floor more than once on ships, and it wasn't uncomfortable for her at all, though he probably thought she was crazy. She didn't want to be alone in her chamber.

In the Iron Islands, the approach to male-female relationships was lighter, and she knew, that as long as he didn't kick her out, she could do whatever she wanted.

She fell asleep after a while, crying without a sound, looking at the moon, that shone brightly outside the window. She dreamed of her mother again, covered in blood. Then she had a dream about her father, saying, that he was proud of her. She cried in her sleep, begging him not to give her away.

She flinched, as she felt someone suddenly grab her and throw her over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes. For a moment she didn't know where she was, so she started kicking.

"Stop it." He hissed as he laid her on his bed, and only then did she recognize his face.

She pursed her lips, a bit embarrassed by her outburst. She straightened her long dress, as he laid down next to her, with his back to her.

"Stop crying and sleep."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses

Others: @letmeloveyouuuu @fantasias-creativebubble

[ofstoriesandstardust]

no one's ever had me, not like you (j.c.m.)

a/n: this is a small something something that is unofficially part of my unpublished midnight rain series. i owe a lot of this to @cottagecori for hearing "zoo date with javy to see the pandas" and absolutely running with it

summary: You and Javy go on a date to the San Diego Zoo together. It makes you feel like you’re finally getting the romance you had always wanted in high school. 

fully inspired by taylor swift's "so high school"

warnings: minimal editing, one or two swear words, kylie wrote FLUFF, they just love each other so much your honor

word count: 1.8k

“you knew what you wanted and, boy, you got her”

“Did you know penguins aren’t actually monogamous?” 

Your head jerks up from looking at the map, to look at your boyfriend who had just come back from the bathroom. “Wh- What?” 

“Penguins aren’t actually monogamous. Most species are but,” He sighs, sitting down on the bench next to you. Your eyes flicker over the way his shirt tightens as he leans back. “Not all are. Can’t be making blanket statements.” 

“Okay.” You say slowly, eyebrows furrowing. “Did you like, read that on a sign somewhere?” 

He taps his temple. “I just know.” 

You blink at him. “You’re so weird.” 

You look back down at the map, eyes flickering over the neighboring enclosures. “Okay, baby, I’m thinking we should go to the elephants next but I-” 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He’s leaned in close, chin propped up on your shoulder. 

“Sure.” 

“If I was a penguin, I’d only want to spend my fifteen to twenty years of life with you.” 

Your cheeks flame up in a way that has nothing to do with the San Diego sun beating down on you. “Javy.” You groan, nudging his shoulder. “Stop.” 

He gives you a lopsided grin, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Elephants are just fine my love. Can we stop and get my free refill first though?” He asks, holding up the bright pink flamingo souvenir cup that only a rich tourist could justify. “I’m hankering for a crisp Diet Coke.” 

-

You wrap your arms around Javy’s left as he sits next to you in the Sky Tram. He’s thumbing through photos of the day as you look out at the sky night. The city lights of Balboa and beyond are twinkling back at you, a sight that for once in your life doesn’t make your chest ache. 

It makes your eyes sting in a way that has nothing to do with the wind, as you think back on all the nights you’d spent up here, feeling so hopeless and lost, feeling like the weight of who you were would never be enough. Like your love of the city lights of San Diego would be the rock that buried you into a life that felt unlivable. 

“I love you.” You murmur and he squeezes your thigh. 

“I love you too, baby.” 

You sigh, tucking your head into your shoulder as his thumb starts rubbing soft circles on your bare skin as he tucks his phone back into his pocket. 

“Have I ever told you that being with you is like-” You falter, before humming. “I don’t know, it’s healing in a way.” 

“What do you mean?” 

You shrug. “I don’t know, you make me feel like- like a little kid. Not- not in a bad way, but good. Safe, carefree, giddy. Like being with you is feeling that childhood excitement I had at my future, but every day. And I- you do all these things with me, like go on a date to the zoo, and you encourage me to do all the things I never got to do, like go in the photo booth and buy fun souvenirs and overpay for mediocre park food. Like, you just make me excited.” 

You think telling him that being with him heals your hurt inner child and angry inner teenager may be too raw of a confession for this moment right here, so you let the ocean breeze from not too far away roll over you as Javy shifts in his seat, moving to pull you into his lap as best he can. 

It’s dark, but even here and now, you can see the emotion on his face. “I love you so much.” 

You nod. “I know.” You say softly. 

“I want to keep doing these things with you for the rest of my life. Like, I just always want to be with you, I always want my adventures to be with you. I want to be partners and best friends every day.” 

You aren’t sure you have the words to convey the emotion, the love, you have for him, so instead you find his hand and intertwine your fingers. 

It’s quiet for a moment, both of you soaking up the night. 

“Can we come back for their Christmas stuff? I know you came a lot growing up, but I’ve never been, so I’d kinda like to see it.” 

“Mm, I guess for you I can tolerate it. But I’m not sitting on Santa’s lap.” 

“Even if I was Santa?” You’re turned away from him, so you can’t be sure, you can almost picture the glimmer in his eyes. 

You roll your eyes, even as you feel faint heat in your cheeks. “Funny, you’re a real comedian.” 

“Yeah, but you love me.” 

“For some reason…” 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing!” 

-

“My feet hurt so fucking bad.” You moan, falling into Javy’s bed alongside him. You prop your head up, looking over at him to see him frowning at your phone. “What?” 

“Does this have to be your lock screen?” He twists the phone to show you, but you already know what it’s a picture of. 

You’d changed it while waiting in line to see the pandas, the photo of Javy sticking his head out of the ice enclosure definitely meant for children by the seals. He’s grinning, truly from ear to ear, and you had been waiting for him to pop out to snap the photo. 

“It’s cute.” 

He grumbles, handing your phone back to you. “I don’t think so.” 

“You were excited, it’s endearing.” You say, clicking the phone off before sliding it on to the nightstand beside the bed. Your phone is barely set down before he’s wrapping his arms around you, bringing you close to his chest. 

“Thank you for coming with me today.” He says softly.

“‘Course. I haven’t enjoyed the zoo like that since I was a kid.”

“I know sometimes I get, I don’t know- overly excited, I guess. It means a lot to me that you came with me and put up with all that. I’m sorry if it was like a lot to put up with, I just- I’ve been looking forward to it for a long time and it meant a lot to me that you shared the day with me.” 

You frown, twisting the best you can to look at him with how tightly he’s holding you. “Firstly, you’re talking to the girl who has never met a topic of conversation she doesn’t have an opinion about.” He snorts into your shoulder and you feel a small smile on his lips. “Secondly, don’t you dare feel bad for a second. It’s not putting up with you and it’s never too much. I love you, and that means loving all of you, including the part of you that gets so excited about seeing pandas for the first time that you tell me weird facts about them, like that they have opposable thumbs.” 

His grip loosens on you a hair and you take advantage of it, shifting so your back is no longer faced away from him.

“I could never be annoyed with you, not when you let me ramble about niche historical facts for twenty minutes on end.”

“Among many other things.”

You pinch his cheek. “Watch it, mister.” You sigh, scooting closer to him as you tangle your legs together. “I love getting to see you happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I’m so lucky you feel safe around me to show me this side of you, even if it means I have to hear about how some species of penguins are non-monogamous.”

He gives you a shy smile and his eyes look glassy in the dim light of the bedroom. “What did I do right in a past life to deserve you?” He whispers. 

You shake your head. “You didn’t have to do anything to deserve it. Being you is just enough.” You study him for a moment, debating on voicing the thoughts you’d been having since this morning. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

He nods.

“When I was in high school — I mean, I guess I’ve always felt like this, but especially in high school — I so badly wanted to be with someone like you. Like I wanted to be with someone who wanted to go to the zoo with me and laugh with me at the most inappropriate of times. I wanted to be with the person who felt like my best friend, that made everyday life a little bit easier. And I guess, I guess maybe I had kind of given up on that for myself. But you- you make me feel like I’m finally getting the easy high school romance I had always wanted. You always make me blush and it makes me feel so-” You swallow. “I don’t know. I don’t know if that made any sense. You make me happy in the best ways. I’ve never been with someone like you.”

Javy starts crying as he shifts, letting you go so he can sit up. Your heart sinks, clearly realizing the words had been too much for the moment. You move with him as he reaches up to wipe at his eyes. 

“Oh fuck, baby, I- I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Your heart clenches at the sight, wishing you could undo the last two minutes, but he’s quick to shake his head.

“No, no, I just- I just get overwhelmed sometimes. With how much- how much you love me.” You open your mouth, feeling the apology sitting on your tongue but he shakes his head. “No, no, don’t apologize. Don’t take it back, please.”

You nod, finding his hand. “Okay. Okay, I won’t.” 

“I just-” He clears his throat, squeezing your hand. “I just get a little overwhelmed. With how much you mean to me and how openly you love me. It’s just a lot. It’s not that I ever want you to change or want anything about what we have to change, but I just never thought that I’d get to have what we have. I wrote it off.” He sniffs. “I love you - so much. More than you’ll ever know. More than I’ll ever be able to articulate. But I’m glad I did something so right that- that whoever up there decided I get to spend my life with you.” 

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before squeezing his cheek. “I’ll spend every day with you, even if it means hearing weird facts about penguins for the rest of my life. In fact, I would like to hear weird facts about penguins every day for the rest of my life. Like a one a day calendar.” 

He snorts, a genuine grin growing on his face. “Aye aye, captain. I’m on it.”

[queers-gambit]

Dating Eddie Munson HC [part two]

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

note: can't get this boy outta my head, so, here's a few other headcanons about boyfriend!Eddie Munson.

warnings: cursing, female descriptions / pronouns (i think), this one's pretty tame. still proceed with maturity.

• you cannot convince me this boy doesn't, like, do everything in his power to put a smile on your face. cracking a (bad) joke, pulling a funny face, or acting like a klutz just to see that smile on your face.

• Eddie writes poems for you. maybe not full songs (even though a few have been about you) but he likes to write you actual poetry. it was the one unit he excelled in during English because he had an array of poems at his disposal.

• some poems were left in a journal, some on scrap pieces of paper then taped on his dresser's mirror, others written to you and sent in a letter.

• this man is big on hand-written letters. you like to read? he likes to write? it fucking works for you!! he'll write you a letter for anything, too.

• bullies got him fucked up? he was writing a letter to you that he might not send for weeks because he's still adding to it. it's therapeutic. and it's not that he's not telling you when things happen but it's sometimes hard to verbalize everything. so, he writes and one day, he'll slip it to you, "you don't have to respond to it, but I want you to know these things."

• and later that evening after you've read the letter, you're at his trailer, and crawling into his lap. he might be sitting on the couch because Wayne's at work already, hands holding your thighs and up to your hips as your hands smooth his hair back, off his face.

• and you'd tell him, "I love it when you're open with me. and I want you to know, your feelings are safe with me, however you need to express them." and all sorts of reassuring things, because you didn't want to offer too much sympathy because he didn't want pity, but instead assurance that his feelings are valid, and safe.

• but he sends you letters for other reasons, too! he doesn't need much of a reason to pick up a pen.

• you save each one. i don't need to explain this, right?

• he gifts you a silver ring of your own; maybe gets you one for every year you're together. but that doesn't stop you from stealing his on the occasion, let's be clear on that.

• because in my head, Eddie doesn't do short-term. he's in it for the long term, so, he likes to go all out for anniversary's. hence the rings.

• and he loves seeing your style and his meshed together in your outfits, remember? seeing you in some ripped jeans, one of his shirts? hair done, make-up poppin', nails manicured, with - oh - what's those? shining silver rings he got you? he might swoon a little.

• and holding hands when you're wearing your rings isn't 100% comfortable at first but you both get used to it. and he even might start to fiddle with your rings sometimes, too; either when anxious or just lost in thought, he'll gently spin one of your rings around your finger.

• skin to skin contact is still a must, but laying face-to-face while gently petting over his face as if to map out his features is just soul-soothing for the both of you. "everything's quiet when I'm with you," you tell him softly, voice barely above a whisper.

• and he smiles lightly, "what do you mean, quiet, sweetheart?"

• "everything in my head, all the bullshit going on in the world," you sigh as you trace over his chest tattoo, "it's quiet when I'm with you. everything's just... so much better with you, baby."

• ah, man - he melts. you hear me? he melts. he can't help but bring you in closer to press an excited kiss to your lips. and when he pulls back, he takes only a nano-second before he's kissing you again, and again.

• because he's elated to hear those words. and you make note of that by making it a habit to reassure him of his place in your life. his insecurities run deep but he's making real progress on that because you take deep satisfaction in assuring him of your love.

• I know I said stoner!boyfriend Eddie lets you paint his nails, but can we agree that boyfriend!Eddie in general will do that? great - so, you like to paint your nails, right? and sometimes, you can't choose a color and Eddie thinks it's really cute when you get that concentrated look on your face while trying to get an even coat.

• so, he doesn't mind you painting his fingernails. he'll often have to decide the color for you because you "just can't!"

• he might try his hand out with painting your nails, too. look, Eddie can get a few tattoo sketches down, why can't he master nail art?

• don't tell anyone but he definitely has a shoe box full of photos of you guys. he got a polaroid camera when you started dating and he tries to take at least one photo every date. it's a nice homage to your relationship.

• he leaves the camera in his car so he doesn't forget it. plus, he has his own personal collection of pictures of you in his passenger seat, so, win-win. oh, there goes my heart.

• when he's missing you or after you guys have a fight, he looks through that photo box. and oh, look! he's writing you another letter! he's a simp and my mind can't be changed.

• your heart gets warm when he calls you sweetheart. you're used to him calling you baby, and don't get me wrong, it's adorable. but when he drops sweetheart in lieu of your name, you're the one melting a little.

• and you're both always holding hands or your arm's around the others shoulders. like, constantly. he's not overly adamant on PDA but that boy doesn't feel right if you're close by and he's not touching you.

• there's a height difference. and he likes to pick on you for that. he's lanky, so let's say he's taller than you; and he never, ever lets you forget it. you'll try to reach something in the cabinet above the stove while you're cooking at your house, and here comes Eddie!

• he'd let one hand move around your waist to squeeze you into his side while the other grabbed whatever you needed, "woah there, small fry, careful! you might knock yourself over stretchin' like that."

• "you think you're funny, don't you?"

• but he is funny, the little shit. his jokes are mostly corny but because you guys have history, there's a lot of inside jokes that make you both go lightheaded from laughter.

• Eddie has social anxiety that's hidden behind this macho bravado but you can tell when he's feeling uneasy.

• it's sometimes easier to just slid your hand into his and mutter quietly, "squeeze my hand if you wanna go."

• you were always quick to come up with some excuse for your abrupt departure the moment you felt him squeeze your hand. it ranged from some excuse over dinner with your mom, maybe you have a sibling that needs picked up somewhere, or there's some extended family member coming into town. no matter what, when he squeezes, you're getting him out of there.

• when the anxiety passes, he's realizing he's dating his best friend and silently thanks God because you both just read each other. you both just get it.

• he calls you his little problem solver because it doesn't matter what's going on or what he's feeling, he can turn to you. confide in you. and you know it goes both ways because he's there for you no matter what.

• when you're sick, good luck getting Eddie to go to school. you'll phone him early in the morning and tell him your symptoms before insisting you'd just stay in bed; but he's already packing a bag to hang with you for the day.

• he'd come over with snacks and Gatorade (or something) because your parents already left for work. he doesn't care if he'll get sick, too; he'll crawl in bed with you and gently massage your scalp.

• Eddie doesn't like going to school if you're not there, so, he doesn't mind playing hookie. and he gets you anything you need because he's a sweetheart like that.

• yeah, you like forehead kisses - but he likes kissing your forehead.

• mixtapes! mixtapes! mixtapes! Eddie makes you mixtapes! just imagine he's out somewhere and finds himself bobbing his head along to some song, specifically asks for the name, so later, he adds it to a mixtape 'cause he thinks you'll like it, too.

• look, sometimes his emotions get the better of him and he communicates through music.

• so, sometimes, after a fight, you'll find a cassette tape left in your mailbox when you collect the mail that day. you know it's from him without a signature, but there's usually a scribbled note on the front of the case.

• I'm sorry for what I said. I hope this can help?

• and you listen to it all night. he'll come to pick you up in the morning for school and feel anxious you wouldn't want to see him, but just as he comes to a halt, you're heading out your door.

• you spend the morning talking about whatever upset the both of you before telling him how the music made you feel. he'll tell you what the songs made him feel, and that's how you sort through your feelings over certain fights.

• we know he kills the spiders but let's face it - you probably kill the rest of the creepy crawlies. you just don't do spiders... so, he's brave for the both of you, so as long as you're brave the other times and handle other bugs.

• Eddie stops to pet dogs. (so, you both stop when you're together).

• you like to bake. and Eddie likes your creations, so, he sometimes lets you rope him into helping if you promise him the first few bites of baked goods. he can burn water but under your eye, he actually kinda likes being in the kitchen - but he likes making you sweat, so, he'll continue to give you a hard time.

• younger siblings adore him. they think Eddie's funny, and he does those goofy voices when playing with them or reading them some story. Eddie doesn't mind getting down in the dirt with them. they want him to sit next to them at dinner.

• older siblings don't approve at first but they come around because let's face it, he tries to charm them since he's intimidated by them. and they think his efforts are cute that they cut him some slack.

• does Eddie let you braid his hair? only after a joint.

• maybe you first meet 'cause you're looking for a dealer.

• maybe you meet in middle school.

• maybe you meet his first senior year.

• maybe because it's both of your favorite holiday, you meet at a halloween event wearing either accidental matching costumes (so you kinda have to hang out all night and get to know the cutie) or you're wearing perfectly opposite costumes. so, again, how can you not hang out with him all night? it was fate, you were sure of it.

• or maybe you meet because you used to babysit Mike and / or Dustin, promising to give them a ride home after Hellfire and there's Eddie, waiting to make sure the newest members get in their ride. looking too cool for school as he leans on the side of the building, and he's not as smooth talking as he wants to be but you think he's still endearing.

• look, how common was it for Eddie to find you in his hoodie? pretty freaking common. they smelled like him and he started using that fabric softener you told him about that made the material soft, so, he was used to you entering his room, dropping your belongings, and snuggling your way into a hoodie.

• Eddie is the type of boyfriend that when you pass by in the lunch room, he's wrapping his arms around your waist to tug you into his lap; greeting you with kisses on the cheek. no matter if he saw you that morning, or an hour ago, he's just happy to see you.

• all right, so, about his smell. Eddie is overly conscious about his smell - so, daily showers. and he uses that cologne you complimented because his clothes smell like cigarette and weed smoke, and together, you think it smells kinda like home. when your nose is pressed to his skin, you don't really notice the smoke smell.

• you like both coffee and tea, so, Eddie learns how to make your favorite of both. he's cute. very, very cute.

• okay, so, he likes scary movies. he jumps at all the jump scares but he laughs after. you don't mind scary movies because it's an excuse to sit in Eddie's lap and press your nose into his neck.

• man, throw a blanket across across you fools and you'll actually fall asleep during a horror movie.

• okay, when you go out to eat, you both take turns ordering something neither of you have tried before. it's a simple way for you both to try new things and push your comfort bounds.

• he goes with you when you get your first tattoo, too. holds your hand, reassures you that you're doing great, has an opened bottle of water for you, and takes peaks as the tattoo progresses. he'd make cute jokes to distract you when you'd wince in annoyed pain.

• oh, man, the dates are just cute. they're not always conventional but you both look for any excuse to hang out.

• he likes to pinch your jaw and lift your attention up to your eyes (that height difference, man). then he'd kiss you and mutter, "don't know what I did to deserve you, but good job me."

• and yeah, I mentioned it before, but he's close with your family. like, to the point when you need an extra team member for family game night, Eddie's rolling in with more flowers for your Mom and maybe a pack of candy for your sibling(s).

• let's just imagine Eddie at family meals please. he's offering to fill your plate when the peas come your way, refilling your Mom's wine glass, and teasingly taking your Dad's side during arguments.

• he'd be invited to the Christmas vacation! and he'd blush because wow - your family really accepts him. he has heart eyes the whole time.

• he's the type that takes whatever is in your hands to hold for you, too. backpack, binders, shopping bags, (sometimes) your purse, that one time he came into your job and saw you moving an inventory box - he swooped in and took it from you.

• "what're you doin' movin' something this heavy, princess? I got it, I got it."

• this boy melts when your nails rake over his back, shoulders, and obviously his scalp.

• and Eddie's the type to kiss you at any given opportunity. we know he reminds you he loves you constantly but he also looks for any opening to kiss you.

• when he gets angry, he worries that he's scared you. you never are, and you tell him as such, but he still knows that he can get intense. so, he'd take some time to just be in your presence (usually with his hands somewhere on you) before he's trying to explain why he had the kind of reaction he did.

• you appreciated the communication, so, you listened and tried to understand, empathize. your job isn't to judge him.

• he often uses his fingers to press into your cheeks. he likes to poke and hold them, sometimes squeezing to pucker your lips. oh, man, this boy is almost always touching you - it's so cute. damn it.

• Eddie's perfect, okay? cool.

requesting rules and masterlist

ST masterlist

[steponmeinejghafa]

Little Disturbance

Summary: Alina and Aleksander are in a meeting, when you decide to disrupt it very, very, very politely. Which later leads to a nice, fluff-filled evening.

Darklina x Fem!Child!Reader

Warnings: None. Unless you count tooth-rotting fluff!

Age: 5

Note: For the sake of the story, Baghra is alive, and both the Darkling and Alina rule Ravka.

———

To be honest, sometimes your grandmother was a bit…dull. As much as you loved hanging out in her house, eating food every waking moment, it did get a bit boring. She had no interesting books, apart from Grisha hand manuals, and some books on lore so ancient it hadn’t been translated.

Granted, she told you stories of your father when he was younger, but even stories could keep a five year old entertained so much.

“Nana,” you said, looking up from your game with a few dolls Aleksander had made for you, “When can I meet Mama and Papa?”

Baghra, who was reading by the fireplace, replied, “They’re in a meeting, child. You are not to see them till the Palace’s dinner bell goes.”

“But I wanna check if they’re okay!” You whined, leaning forward to catch at her skirt with your small hands.

“If they weren’t okay, then we’d have known by know,” sighed the woman before nudging at your hands with her own. “Stop that fiddling, child.”

You did want to meet your parents, so you made a very logical decision when your grandmother wasn’t looking.

You stood up from the floor where you’d been playing and made a run for it.

You dashed down shortcuts and pathways, laughing at Baghra’s exclamations for you to stop.

You avoided Zoya, swerved around Genya, even tripped up poor Feydor, who was trying his best not to dirty his new boots, all to get to that meeting room.

You found the massive double doors which you’d been asked to never step inside of when they were closed, and pushed them open with all your might anyway, ignoring the guards who exclaimed at you to stop.

You went unnoticed as you closed the well-oiled door carefully, and you noticed your mother’s familiar kefta as well as the bun she wore whenever she had an official meeting.

You heard your father talking authoritatively and resisted the urge to run to him, and instead walked over to your mother.

Alina gasped softly upon feeling someone tug at her kefta sleeve, and laughed softly when she saw you grinning up at her. She quickly lifted you up and placed you on her lap such that you were facing her, asking in a low voice, “Did you sneak from Nana’s house all the way here?”

“Yes,” you grinned and nodded. “I escaped.”

“Oh, yes, my little escape artist,” she chuckled, kissing your nose. “Why? We’re you bored?”

“A little,” you nodded. “But I wanted to make sure you and Papa were okay!”

“Darling, if something happened to Mama and Papa, then you’d know immediately,” she said, turning you on her lap so that you faced the rest of the council members.

“I was missing you, Mama!” You whined, leaning into her.

“Alright, little one,” smiled Alina, squeezing you a little. “Be very quiet while this meeting goes on, okay?”

You nodded and listened to your father talking, catching his eye and smiling as he shot you a wink. He looked at Alina, who shook her head, then nodded at the board which had the map of Ravka on it.

One of the councilmen, Igor Romanov, raised his hand and inquired, “Er, sir, why is there a child in the room? I believe she is too young to be listening to this conversation and,” he glanced at Alina, who was coping at you as she let you play with her fingers, “Seems to be a bit of a distraction.”

“Councilman Romanov,” said your father, his face set like stone, “I appreciate your…concern, but as long as I am not distracted by the child, I don’t think any of you should pay her any mind.”

Feydor then burst into the room, panting as he apologised profusely, “I am so sorry, sir. I will escort her to her rooms if need be—“

“There will be no need, Feydor,” said Alina turning in her chair a little to face him. “Thank you.”

“Of course, my queen,” he bowed and excused himself.

“Now, as I was saying…” Aleksander’s voice continued what he’d been discussing earlier, and you slowly began to nod off in Alina’s arms, your father’s smooth baritone voice calming to your ears.

The meeting ended shortly, and Alina smiled and cooed at your sleeping figure, as your held her hand tightly as you did. Once the councilmen emptied out, Aleksander walked over and kissed his wife’s head, then yours, which startled you awake.

“Papa!” You squealed, reaching out to hug him.

“Hello, moya malenk’ya printessa (my little princess),” he smiled and lifted you off Alina’s lap, swinging you up and placing you back down again, earning a laugh from you. “How was your time with Nana?” He placed you on his hip, your mother walking beside him.

“A bit boring,” you admitted.

“And why did you come to the meeting room after Mama told you not to?” He asked, eyebrow raised, but a smile on his face.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay!” You said, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I-“ he faltered for a moment, caught Alina’s eye, and proceeded to burst out laughing.

“Papa! It’s not funny!” You frowned. “Mama, tell him!”

“Aleksander,” said Alina, pausing her laughter and putting on a mock-serious glare. “Y/n is right. We could have been seriously injured. She can protect us, you know.”

Aleksander wiped a tear of laughter from his eye and said, “Ah, yes, of course my love. Indeed, indeed.”

The three of you went to the main palace, where you greeted the doormen happily, who simply bowed and stepped aside for you all to enter.

“Mama,” you asked, eyes on the doormen with their stony faces and blank eyes. “Why don’t they say hello back?”

“Oh, they’re not supposed to, little one,” Alina replied, gesturing for Aleksander to place you down. “There are rules for everything and everyone here.”

“That sounds boring,” you said, running around them. “I don’t like boring things.”

“Then you must bear with your Nana, because she loves you very much,” said your father, ruffling your hair. Alina gasped and hit him on his shoulder, earning an ‘ow’ from his end.

“That is your mother, Aleksander,” she scowled.

“Yes, yes, sorry, my love,” he nodded, rubbing the place where she’d hit him.

Alina scooped you up from where you were running around and said, “Someone needs to take a bath,” she placed you on her hip and smiled at you, “My little one smells like smoke and cloves. Did Nana decide to have you help her cooking lunch?”

You nodded, “Yes!” And giggled as you pulled out the pin which kept your mother’s hair up, earning a gasp from her when she took the pin from you.

“And I though I’d be the one to do that tonight,” Aleksander whispered in his wife’s ear, making a blush spread over her cheeks.

“Aleksander, please, there is a child present,” she chided.

She took you to their room, placing you on the bed and picking out a nightdress of your choice as Aleksander tickled and laughed with you.

“Thank god, no more meetings for another two days,” laughed Alina as she took you to the bathroom, Aleksander sitting on the bed, reading a book.

“Mama,” you said, reaching for the laces of your dress. “I heard from Genya that there’s going to be a travelling circus and carnival coming to the town tomorrow ! Can we go?”

Alina helped you with the laces and smiled, “Well, if you do your lessons properly tomorrow without trying to escape, then maybe we can go.”

“Yes!” You squealed, sitting in the tub and letting her bathe you quickly, singing a soft Ravkan song to keep you occupied.

“There,” she said, tying your hair in a braid. “Now my little one’s much fresher.”

You nodded and smiled, running into your parents’ bedroom, leaping on your father with a bright grin, making him laugh and place his book away.

“Mama said we can go to the circus tomorrow!” You squealed. “You’ll come with us, right?”

“Of course, little one,” he nodded, kissing your forehead. “Family day.”

“I’m gonna win a crow figurine this time for sure!” You said, turning your stag figurine in your hands, which Alina kept on the bedside table before you’d bathed.

“What all have you won so far?” He asked, picking you up and taking you to your room, Alina close behind as she talked in a hushed voice to a servant who’d handed her a letter.

You pointed at the shelf on your bookcase which was full of animal figurines from a long time of your father and mother helping you win them at every carnival which came to town.

“I’ve got a stag, a lion, a lynx…” you rambled on, naming every single animal on your shelf, placing the stag on its place carefully.

“What do you say to a puzzle before bed?” Your father asked after having listened to your long talk about different animals.

“Puzzle!” You grinned. Aleksander knew you loved puzzles. The picture ones or the brain teasers which one of his Durasts would make almost every day, you and him always sat and solved them together. If he couldn’t do it because of work, he’d solve two with you the next day.

He pulled out two paper packages from his kefta pockets, placing them in front of you. “Which one?” He asked with a smile.

You thought for a moment and pointed at the one on the left, which he handed to you, and took the right one for himself.

You opened it to find a simple cube of interlocking pieces, one of which you took out to disassemble the whole cube.

Alina sat next to you, pulling you into her lap as you started to figure out how to solve your puzzle.

Aleksander had a wooden six-point star, which he took apart and began to try and reassemble, while Alina and you both ganged up on him, her helping you with your puzzle, while Aleksander struggled with his.

“That is not fair, you cannot use your intellectual strength to defeat me!” Complained your father.

Someone knocked at the door, and Alina placed you off her lap to open it.

“Aleksander,” she said, seeing Feydor, “It’s for you.”

Aleksander placed down his puzzle and sighed, ruffling your hair as you continued to try solving your puzzle.

Alina sat back with you, listening to you talk about random things as you took apart the puzzle for what felt like the tenth time, grumbling in frustration.

“Papa,” you whined, “I can’t solve it!”

“Just a minute, moya malen’kya printessa,” he said, before glaring back at Feydor.

Alina noticed their interaction becoming more and more heated in whispers, and decided to step in.

“Is everything alright?” Asked the Sun Summoner, frowning slightly, standing next to Aleksander.

“I have to go to Novyi Zem,” he muttered. “Tonight. The governor needs me at a meeting for their economical security matters.”

“At this hour?” Asked Alina, her brow furrowing further. “Can’t it wait? You promised Y/n about the circus and carnival.”

“I’m afraid this matter is a bit too grave, and can’t be avoided,” sighed Aleksander. “And I think the two of us will have to go.”

“Sadly yes,” said Feydor. “The governor has requested both of you to be there.”

“Oh for Saints’ sake—“ scoffed Alina. “We have a child to take care of, doesn’t anyone understand that?”

“Nannies are something I can sugges—“ Feydor began, but was cut off by a glare from both your parents.

“I refuse to be some absent parent in my child’s life for the sake of convenience, Feydor,” said your father. “Inform the governor that Alina and I will be able to make it day after tomorrow, due to personal matters.”

“Mama…” you whined trudging over to Alina and tugging at her kefta, “I need help with my puzzle!”

“If you both could take this conversation outside, I’d appreciate it,” your mother said authoritatively. She took your hand and sat on the bed, helping you with your puzzle.

“Do you and Papa have to go again?” You asked, pouting as you looked at your mother with big, watery, e/c eyes.

“No, no,” she shook her head, pulling you into her lap for a cuddle. “We are not going anywhere, my love.”

You sniffled and buried your face in her now-open hair, your small hands fisting in her kefta’s soft fabric, relaxing a bit when she rubbed your back soothingly.

Aleksander rushed over after having told Feydor what to do, and immediately asked frantically, “What’s wrong, Y/n, my love?”

You mumbled and hid your face in Alina’s neck, and she explained that you were upset because she and him might have to go away for a trip again.

Your father took you in his lap and said, “I postponed the meeting to day after, so we can go to the carnival and get you your crow figure. We are going to have the best day in history, I promise you that.”

You nodded and yawned, nuzzling into him as he patted your back gently to lull you to sleep.

“She’s a Papa’s girl for sure,” laughed Alina, caressing your hair.

“Absolutely,” nodded Aleksander as he gently placed you down to lay on the bed.

Before they could leave, you caught Alina’s hand and opened your eyes with a pout.

“Mama,” you said tiredly, “Sing, please.”

Laughing softly, Alina lay beside you, propping herself up on her elbow as you curled up into her relaxing as she began to stroke your hair. On your other side sat your father, who’s hand you held firmly.

Alina began singing Ravkan lullabies, and Aleksander accompanied the ones he knew. You slowly fell asleep, and Aleksander soon realised he was the only one singing, as Alina, too, had fallen asleep, with you curled into her an her arm draped protectively across you.

He smiled and placed a blanket over the two of you, before pausing upon feeling your hand tighten over his. He lay down too, feeling warmth bloom in his chest as you snuggled closer to him.

And so, your evening concluded, with you asleep in your parents arms, a true image of tranquility.

———

Hi! It’s me, Anne! I hope you like this one, please feel free to request!

[reidslovely]

Ok now let us INNNNN on some CEO Peter x reader ! How they meet. What is their dynamic. How they end up together??? Pretty pls pls 🥺🥺

since you said please i guess...

I see them meeting in the lobby of Parker Industries. And because I'm nothing but cliche he's coming on his day off for a client meeting and she's standing in the lobby shuffling through papers obviously lost. He's staring at his Apple Watch and the collide, him sending her towards the floor. He shoots arm out and catches her, staring at her wide eyes as he basically pulls her back to her feet, arm around her stomach as he held her.

"I am so so sorry. I was looking at a message."

"I am so so sorry I was looking at this map and I was.."

They spoke at the same time. Peter's face remained flat but there was a smile in his eyes. He thought she was..gorgeous, he shook his head and cleared his throat.

"You're fine don't worry about it. Can I help you." He pointed at the map of the building in her hands. She nodded looking up at him with big eyes, and handing him the map.

"My mother has a meeting with Mr. Parker over a biotech research for her collarbone damage due to cancer. It's a whole thing, and I'm super late."

"You're in luck because the CEO is also super late to this meeting." Peter chuckled. "Mr. Parker..nice to meet you."

"Oh my god." She says reaching her hand out shaking it. "I'm (y/n) (l/n) nice to meet you...also." she stuttered through her greeting. Peter nodded and handed her map back to her.

"I'll walk with you. Follow me."

I do think that the two have a slight age gap. Peter being around 30-33 and reader being about 25-27. Which makes him kind of skeptical for a bit because Peter's never dated someone younger than him outside of Gwen being a year younger than him and even if it's not by a lot and both are in similar places in life he worries that she'd find him to be old and boring. But she doesn't, she doesn't really pay any mind to the age gap besides teasingly calling him 'old man' here and there in their relationship.

At the start they definitely have a grumpy/sunshine dynamic even if Peter isn't that grumpy he's been out of the dating pool for a few years and he's just kind if skittish which makes him seem grumpy. He's the reason for these big nice parties but he only talks to the people he knows and clients he's built relationships with. She's the one running around greeting people asking if they're having a fun time and he just admires her so much for it. She inspires him and brings him out of his little dark room he's built for himself which helps everyone get to know him a little bit better and see that he's not only a kind person, but also really funny. He's also just so so so soft for her. Peter can be intimidating if needed and he knows how to play that well and when to play it. But whenever she's around he's so soft, it's like all the bad things in his life become muffled. She feels the same about him, she thinks he's the smartest man in the world. She knows he is, and doesn't hesitate to remind him when he is forgetting that himself. As their relationship progresses for Peter he feels like he got a second chance at love, and she feels like she's really fallen in love for the first time.

They start dating pretty quickly actually for Peter being so skittish, Harry gave him a jump in headfirst speech that urged him into asking her to be his girlfriend. And when he did it he felt like that nerdy high school boy again, but when she said yes he knew he made the right decision.

They go on the nicest vacations, he definitely wants to see the world with her. But he also loves just being in their Forest Hills home having domestic moments. He likes the way she'll come into his office while he's working and sit on his lap playing with his hair. His goal is just to spoil his girl, any thing she wants he'd give it to her no matter the cost. If she asked him tomorrow to give up everything and just disappear with her he'd do it, and she'd do it for him.

He also totally gives her a job at Parker Industries let's be real. All she wanted to do was be his assistant/receptionist, and when the spot opened he immediately offered it to her because no one better could keep up with him. And honestly..it's true.

I don't know there is a lot about them, she's gonna need a cute nickname though. I'll get back to y'all on that.

have a ceo!peter coded photo:

[docholligay]

I don’t usually know exactly where I’m going. 

Wherever I’m staying, I look at a map before I run, and point myself in a direction. I have a good sense of direction anyhow, and in this daty and age it would take a significant amount of work on my part to get truly lost. It’s easy to remember where you came from when you run, too, noticing everything around you, shop signs and streetlights and the place you have to nearly jump over the buckle in the sidewalk. There’s no option to be buried in some post about various fandom crimes when you’re clipping down the street at 6 miles an hour, so I’m not. 

In the early morning hour, only rarely have I encountered anything that might be called a crowd. Even in the London financial district, most of my companions were pigeons and flower sellers setting up shop. Today, there’s no one, not even the odd dog walker, which does strike me, but, then again, I’m zooming through the historic Old Town of San Diego, and I’m not actually certain anyone lives here. 

But people did, even before it became the first place Europeans dropped anchor as stayed awhile in California. It’s not even a place for the American West--the history of this place is older still by at least fifty years. You can see the Spanish in every corner of this place, and I think of being a toddler, and of watching Zorro, that old black and white show in reruns on my screen. I can see Don Diego de la Vega standing in a tiny patio in front of an adobe house, even as my lap marker beeps in my ear. 

The secret to being utterly alonel, I have often found, is doing things other people don’t want to do. Old San Diego is opened up only for me, parrots screeching overhead, the cemetery the only bodies around. I’ve seen this in Boston, in London, in places all over the world, looping quickly through historic markers and old byways. I always love the feel of it, the way history seems frozen for me, here, because I’m running fast enough to catch it. I stalk it in the early morning hours the way someone might stalk a deer. 

I don’t have a good conclusion for this, because there isn’t one. I didn’t learn a lesson, i didn’t have a thought. I just have the sound of my feet on the pavement, and the drip of sweat on my back, and the peace of a moment without people in a crowded world.

[readychilledwine]

3 facts about your OCs aaaaaand go!

*blinks slowly* all... all my ocs?

Warning - long post

Aelia (Broken)

Her favorite holiday is Solstice Eve. She doesn't care if it's not an actual holiday. She will throw hands over this topic

She's been begging Rhys for sunken greenhouse for a while. He doesn't understand why they'd need it, but he's coming around.

Aelia can control the weather. Happy? Large snowfall. Angry? Blistering heat and humidity. Sad? Thunderstorms all day.

Rhiannon (Requiem for a Dream)

Rhiannon hates hard candy. Which works for Azriel. It's the weirdos favorite.

She's only ever had sex with Rhys. Both due to insecurities from her father ripping her wings off her back, and because when you already fuck a God, why would you settle for disappointment?

Rhiannon became so in touch with the realm during her father's imprisonment of her and Azriel that she began to be able to speak to it similarly to Azriel and his shadows. It caught Rhysand's father's attention, and he forced her to stay close to him. If Hybern so much as pissed near a log during the first war, Rhiannon knew.

Lyria Vanserra (Slow Hands)

Lyria spent 39 years being owned by Rhys UTM. She was the one who'd originally dance for him at parties until Feyre came. Their relationship is complex, loving, and so deeply rooted into both of them, Rhys may have married her had he never met Feyre.

Lyria is Helion's and Beron knows, Lucien he questions, but Lyria he knows. He found out when Lyria was 5. She was cuddling on his lap in his office and annoyed because the sun was in her eyes, preventing her from sleeping on her daddy. She ended up forcing the sun to change position and instantly fell asleep in his arms. That was the first and only time LoA saw Beron cry because of how emotionally hurt he was. Beron pretended not to know he wasn't Lyria's father until she was sold to Rhys. He loved her too much to let her go.

Lyria is also banned from the Summer Court. Cassian destroyed a building. Lyria streaked through one. That building happened to be a temple. She doesn't remember why she's banned. Only that her and Tarquin were having fun until some lady came and yelled at them.

Seren (Death of Peace of Mind)

She's my cuntiest OC in that she serves and is one.

Seren will not wear a dress that costs less than 90 gold marks. It made sewing for her a pain for her mother, but her father absolutely loved showering her with the finest silks, hand-made lace, and furs.

Seren hates chocolate. It's a trait that she's pretty sure actually runs in their family, but Rhys pretends to enjoy it so people don't judge him. Seren doesn't care if you judge her. Your taste buds are wrong. Not hers.

Aerilyn (Flight Patterns)

Aerilyn speaks 20 languages due to how often her and the dragons move. Arguably, she may be the smartest person in the room for that reason.

Aerilyn would rather sleep in the pit with her little pack than on a bed. She's snuck out several times to do it and snuck in to make sure she wasn't caught.

Aerilyn is unaware that she has powers. She thinks her relationship with the dragons is completely normal for a rider.

Kaylee Archeron (Bound by Fate)

Kaylee is heavily based off of snow-white, and I mean that. So spoiler if you know the story.

Kaylee hates wearing pants. Azriel stares too much when she does, and she doesn't get why. She's just Kaylee. There's nothing to stare at. (Besides that ass)

Elain gardens, Nesta reads, Feyre painted, Kaylee does sketches. Preferably animals, and babies. Kaylee loves babies.

Amelia Archeron (Kissed by Fire)

Amelia doesn't have hobbies. She was so busy working in the brothel that for years she lost herself.

Amelia dreams of traveling the world and far-off places. Her drawer on the dresser was painted like a map with autumn leaves in the corners

Amelia and Lucien have a close relationship. Both of them are closer to each other than they are any of their siblings. He's the little brother she always wanted. She's the big sister Lucien always needed.

Seraphina Vanserra (Lollipop)

Sera was raised UTM. She's desensitized to cruelty to where she doesn't even realize it is happening. Seraphina lacks some social skills and cues because of this as well. Cassian adores that.

Seraphina was never allowed to train her powers because she is a female and because Amarantha took them when she was young. She has no clue what she can do or who she is.

She became a hopeless romantic after sneaking out of the mountain one night and seeing the night sky for the first time. Rhysand was the one who found the 15 year old, and instead of punishing her or forcing her back inside, he told her the stories behind all the constellations.

Briar (Suprises)

Briar is the cause behind both Spring and Night losing their previous high lords and their mates. At least she feels that way despite Rhysand telling her that her father was an abusive male

Briar once asked Rhys why they weren't just one giant poly family. The answer was Mor. He said it'd be too weird.

Briar has planned the gardens of Day, Night, and Dawn since she left Spring. She has sketches laying them out every year, and Rhys keeps the old ones safe. He looks at them when she's busy and he misses her.

Irelina (Early Mornings)

Irelina is from the only Illyrian camp that does not clip wings, and she is technically the overseer of said camp. She has hands she trusts to watch it in her place so she can be with Cassian.

Irelina was actually seeing Azriel before the Bond snapped between her and Cassian. She loved Azriel too much to let him go, though, and he loved her and Cass so much that the three became a throuple.

Irelina once had to correct someone for calling Cassian "Irelina's husband." Cassian promptly told them they were correct, and that was his name.