#once i get a replacement i will do all of the things listed

[thedrotter]

today my computer has felt in a pranksty mood ! it felt funny and goofy and decided to not let me save anything and when i tried to open my file it said it was corrupted or didnt exist...☺️☺️ hours... of work...☺️☺️ and just a few days ago it deleted multiple hours of work on another file ! ☺️☺️

dear computer🩷 i will put you in the microwave throw you at a wall and crush you

[averlym]

some very very quick costume shorthands!

[prismatic-bell]

IMPORTANT REMINDER TO MY EUROPEAN FOLLOWERS AND OTHER TUMBLR DENIZENS FROM AN AMERICAN DESERT-DWELLER:

Climate change is a bitch and summer is coming. If you don’t already have an air conditioner and/or fans, NOW is the time to get them.

THINGS YOU SHOULD BE SHOPPING FOR NOW:

—clothes made of cotton or linen

—air conditioner

—fans

—frozen meals that can be cooked in the microwave

—potable bottled water; you want five days’ worth per person and pet in your household

—bottled fruit juices; it does not matter if these are sugar-added because you’ll want the electrolytes

—electrolyte drinks

—electrolyte pills (you can get these online, I get mine from Amazon)

—popsicle molds to use with fruit and juice

—ice cube trays

—nonperishable salty snacks like peanuts

—one charger brick per adult in case of rolling blackouts or power outages; charge these at the beginning of May, and drain them via use once a month if they’re not needed

YOUR TO-DO LIST:

—check your home’s HVAC system if you didn’t do it at the beginning of winter. Make sure all the filters are clean and replace them if needed

—check the seals on your sinks and bathtub in case you have to run water to handle shortages

—make and freeze meals you can cook in the microwave or simply defrost. Remember to select light summer fare, not hearty winter soups and gravies

—purchase and freeze lunch meats and cheeses you can defrost and use this summer for sandwiches when it’s hot

—assemble your check-in list: elderly, pregnant, disabled, and immunocompromised friends and relatives who may struggle to get things they need when the heat wave hits. Have this list posted and ready to go through daily once the heat gets high. DON’T JUST ASSUME YOU WILL REMEMBER. WRITE IT ALL DOWN.

—create a list of emergency contacts in case of fire, heat stroke, and other heat-related emergencies. This should include your local version of 911 (I think in most of Europe it’s 112, but don’t rely on me as an American, LOOK IT UP NOW before you need it), your doctor’s phone number, and two emergency contacts. Keep it in a place where it can be easily found if someone needs to make these calls on your behalf.

—ask your doctor for an additional prescription for any medications you take, and fill it now. Extreme heat can cause disruptions in the supply chain. Make sure you cycle these meds; that’s to say, always use your oldest bottle first so you don’t end up with expired meds in an emergency.

—stock your first-aid kit. If you don’t have one, now is a good time to make one.

—if you own a car, get your yearly maintenance done now. You don’t want to be dealing with an inoperable vehicle if you need to evacuate.

Staying safe this summer starts now. Get your prep done.

[kedreeva]

When I was a kid, maybe 14 or so (which is, you know, 20+ years ago), I belonged to a Yahoo! mailing list for an anime called Gundam Wing. It was mostly populated by other teens, of varying ages, as it was started by a teen and her friends. Eventually it migrated, when Yahoo! groups started as forums, and even branched off into non-GW related stuff in a second forum.

One of the things I remember the most clearly is the oldest person in the group. Her name was Steelsong. She was a 40-something Dom with a sub whose name we knew even though we knew nothing else. She ran her own fanfic archive because the web was still handmade HTML and navigated in webrings and I’m pretty sure Google didn’t exist or was only barely, barely launched and not well known. She was kind and patient and we loved her. She treated everyone on the group with the respect given any adult, even though most of the rest of the world was still treating us like we were children. Not teenagers even, but children. She never once condescended to any of us, never made our youth a barrier to her respect, never treated us like we were incapable of being full people or like we were less than her because we were young.

I remember that she hosted our fanfiction, as absolutely terrible as it was (and I still have some of it, I am WELL aware of how cringingly terrible it is, just absolute nonsense garbage), right there alongside of other fic that was soul-achingly beautiful. Not a separate section for her friends or for kids, just right there like we were good enough to feature alongside other authors. I never once received crit from her that I didn’t ask for, only support. Only love. I am still writing today partly because Steel was so kind about our fic, fanfic and original.

I remember that when I started doing clay sculpture, she commissioned a tiny pair of dragons from me, to support me doing artwork. She sent a check my mom cashed for me, and my mom helped me mail it when it was finished. It broke in transit, and Steel assured me that she mended it and that it was still beautiful. It was a small gold dragon curled up with a small silver dragon.

I remember that her patience knew no bounds. I remember that she was there for us, regardless of reason. When we wanted to know silly things like what to do with a single AA battery, she answered. When we had serious questions about sex, she answered.  When we had questions about writing, she taught us. When one of our group members, a young gay teen in Australia, ended up in the hospital and then stopped making posts, and we all knew what had happened, she let us talk to her about it because we couldn’t go to our own parents, even though we had just lost a friend.

She was not a replacement to my parents, but she was an extra parent, in some ways. A friend, certainly, but someone that had been through more life than we had and was willing to pass on knowledge if we asked for it. Someone older that we trusted with things that were too uncomfortable to go to our parents or teachers or whatever about, because we already knew she wasn’t going to judge us or something, and that we would get an honest answer.

I don’t know why I’m remembering this so hard tonight, and I’m not sure if there’s a point to sharing this, except that I know she’s gone now. She was ill the last time we spoke, and her site went down a long time ago, and I miss her. She was a huge influence on my life, then and now. She was hope, for me, that life as an adult didn’t have to be boring, it wouldn’t have to mean giving up the things I loved and Becoming Only Responsible With No Fun. Her presence meant I had hope I could still write and play with friends even when I wasn’t ‘a kid’ anymore. And she’s gone, and I miss her, and I wanted to share her from the perspective of youth, and the perspective over twenty years later has provided me.

And I think of her, when people go off about older folks being in fandom with younger folks. I’m an older folks now, or at least middle aged folks because there are certainly folks older than me still, but I wasn’t always. I’ve been here since i was a younger folks, and I know how much Steel’s presence and support meant to me, how much she helped not just me but everyone on that group. And I think of the people saying older folks don’t belong in fandom, and that they shouldn’t interact with younger folks at all, and I just think... I can’t agree. I needed that kind of solid presence in my life back then and even at the age I am now, I need the folks older than me to stay. I want them here.

So I guess, like, if you’re here and you’re 40 or 50 or 60 or 70 or 80 or whatever, I want you here in fandom with me, still. Your presence here is a comfort. It is hope. It is a reminder that life will continue to be fun, even as I get older, myself. And if you’re younger and you have this sort of elder in your groups, I hope that they are like Steel. I hope they are kind and patient and supportive, and that knowing them gives you hope for your own future. I hope in twenty years you look back and remember them fondly.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I am not the asshole, and I think this whole thing is stupid, but I was promised that if I sent my side of things to this blog I could pick the hotel for our honeymoon, and I am marrying a man who once tried to take me BACKPACKING of all things, so this ask has become a necessity. In light of that:

AITA (I'm NOT) for planning the seating for our wedding in a logical way?

I got engaged in June, apparently in part because of my partner writing in to this blog (I don't know how to find or link to his posts, but I'm the man who got the cat to bite him, if that rings any bells?). At any rate, for the past ten weeks, I've been in the beginning stages of planning our wedding with my fiance, whom I have been secretly attempting to remove from the planning process as much as possible. I have ALREADY been given a list of his must-haves, and I AM incorporating as many of them as our budget allows. This has NOTHING to do with the emotional side of the event, and EVERYTHING to do with the fact that this is an idiot with no real planning experience or taste who thinks he knows more than me.

For the most part, this has worked very well. I'm the one who's been collating all the contact information for things, so I just replaced all the emails for the tacky companies with false addresses, responded to his inquiries as the companies to say the date was already booked or the price was outside our budget, and let him filter his way to the ones I DO like on his own. I also made a fuss about being "willing to compromise" on the few things he's picked I'm completely fine with in the hopes I can use it to make him compromise later, and have been humming portions of the songs I want on the playlist in the hopes he'll think he came up with the idea to include them himself.

None of this is the real problem. The PROBLEM is that he is deliberately ruining my seating chart, by moving our horrible friend's seat when I'm not looking.

The man in question dated both of us at one point in our VERY early 20s (both ended BADLY), is generally the messiest person we know, and will almost certainly get sloppy drunk and try to make a speech IF he does make an appearance. I'm banking on the fact that he won't, because he's also ridiculously wealthy, and will almost certainly send us some very lavish gift in lieu of coming.

He is SUPPOSED to be sitting beside my fiances aunt, at the same table as his grandmother, his work friend, and her girlfriend, because all four of these women are stone cold terrors who I believe are more than capable of keeping him in line on the slim chance he does come. My fiance INSISTS they won't be able to have any fun if they're running interference all night, and keeps moving him to sit at the head table instead. You know, where WE are. I finally caught him switching the label magnets on my planning board last night, and confronted him.

I tried leveraging how much I've been compromising already, that he's almost certainly going to RSVP no, and that I shouldn't have to deal with him on our big night. My fiance said he knew about all the fake emailing and such, and told me, and I QUOTE: "Look, the mind game shit was hot when it was just about the colour scheme or whatever, but I actually care about this. So you can suffer with everybody else, or you can do the normal thing and not invite a guy you hate to our wedding, you weirdo."

I said that if I did that, it would take out half his groomsmen, he called me an asshole and said I should go explain this to "literally any rational adult" so they could tell me I was in the wrong, and now here we are.

Would you recommend calling my fiance's bluff, since he doesn't want the man sitting near us either? Or should I focus on ensuring he'll turn down the invitation no matter what, so the matter of where he WON'T be sitting can be a moot point?

What are these acronyms?

Original post

The update

[twizzie-lairs]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 7)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Quick Notes:

You, the reader who is an artist, and had become Alastor's sweetheart, have just died.

Alastor is about to find out.

Part 7:

The sound of a singular gunshot rang clearly in the night that had been so peacefully quiet up until that moment in time.

Alastor, with the engagement ring in his pocket, who had been peacefully reading a novel within the confines of your shared home, nearly ripped his book in half upon hearing the sound of a gunshot in these woods.

The forest around here was part of his private property, anyone who dared to trespass or hunt in his neck of the woods was shot on sight. Many people ignored the plentiful and very obvious warning signs, so it wasn't his fault so many people ended up becoming your and his meals. Everyone else just thought the law didn't apply to them, straight-up criminals. In his eyes, they all deserved it.

Thinking it was just another nuisance, a "tsk" left Alastor's mouth as he grabbed his shotgun and headed into the woods.

After a few minutes of walking, he finally caught sight of the transgressors. Two men that he, unfortunately, recognized right away as the men from the bar who liked to push his buttons by harassing you.

The seething rage pooled in his core, bubbling up into his chest. This was his chance to get rid of those nuisances once and for all.

They would trouble his darling no more.

For him to get into a better position to take the men out, he crouched down and quietly circled around them like a hunter playing with his prey.

After circling around to position himself behind the men, what he wasn't expecting to see was the most nightmarish sight he's ever seen.

His beloved sweetheart, soon to be betrothed, all disheveled and tied up against a blood-splattered tree with a bullet lodged in the middle of their forehead.

Your eyes were lifeless. There was no doubt about it, the love of his life was dead.

Alastor didn't need to even think before pulling the trigger on the men, shooting one after the other, over and over, even after their bodies had hit the ground.

He. Was. Enraged.

By the time Alastor was done with them, they looked like Swiss cheese, barely strung together.

Alastor's breath was heavy, his chest heaving, near hyperventilating, his eyes were enlarged and his mind was focused on one thing. You.

His beautiful love, he couldn't bear to see you in this state.

In his oddly manic and shocked state, he untied you from the tree and took your body back to your shared home in the woods not too far from here.

For a few moments, his rage was replaced by sorrow and mourning as he buried you in the backyard. As fucked up as he was in the head sometimes, he would rather die than think about eating you. You were sacred to him.

As he laid you down into the ground, he embraced you once last time and took the ring out of his pocket. He placed the ring onto your ring finger and kissed the top of your hand, "In life and in death, I am forever yours, as you are forever mine. I love you, dear."

After you were buried, the rage returned like a vicious tsunami. Oh he wasn't done with revenge just yet.

Every single man or woman that ever mistreated you or offended you, was put on his list.

This night was the catalyst that gave birth to the serial killer known as the "Bayou Killer".

Alastor stopped visiting Mimzy's bar since your death, with his sole focus and dedication in life going to hunting down those that had harmed you in life. After all, they deserved it, you were like an angel to him.

But what Alastor didn't stop doing, was broadcasting his radio show. So many of his connections were made because of his show, so it was a valuable resource to keep active, to use to his advantage.

Alastor continued living his life like this until every single name was crossed off his list.

It was then that it was time for his luck to run out.

Right upon the killing the very last person on the list, was Alastor also shot right square in the forehead.

Before his consciousness faded into black, all he could hear was the muffled panic of a stranger who seemed to be apologizing for mistaking him for some sort of animal.

All Alastor could do was chuckle at the irony of the whole situation, the maniacal laughter was the type that only a madman could produce- before everything went dark and he died.

He thought he would never see you again, because surely, his beloved sweetheart would end up in heaven right?

The answer to this would remain a mystery for many decades to come as Alastor descended into Hell and became who is now widely known in Hell as "The Radio Demon".

-> Part 8

[little-hermit-crab56]

I've been writing for a while so I thought I'd share some writing tips I've learned along the way.

1. Never sacrifice the flow for a quirky line.

That bit of dialogue or flowery paragraph you really like but it kinda disrupts the flow? Scrap it. I know it hurts, but you need to. If you really want to keep it, find somewhere else to put it where it actually fits in.

2. Dialogue is a dance.

Dialogue should go at the pace of an actual conversation, back and forth with little breaks and pauses. Add as little dialogue tags as possible while still making it clear who is speaking. You can also describe what is happening during a pause in the conversation rather than saying they paused, unless the pause is important.

3. Show don't tell is a guideline, not a rule.

Show don't tell is a very useful guideline, but if you're ALWAYS showing it can get exhausting to read. Skip the boring bits and just tell us what happened, then we can get to the good stuff.

4. If it's boring to write, it's probably boring to read.

If you can cut out a whole scene with little consequence to the story, you probably should. As I said before, you don't always have to show us, you can always tell us.

5. Everything needs to have a purpose.

I know there are probably lots of interesting or cute scenes where your characters are just fucking around, but if it doesn't develop character, relations, conflict, or plot, why should we care? Definitely still write them if they make you happy, but if you're gonna add it to your final draft, make sure it matters.

6. You don't need to explain everything all at once.

I know it feels tempting to put all the lore, and all the character's intentions, and reasonings into the first few chapters, but please refrain, you can reserve that for your character and worldbuilding sheets. Instead, take the time to let us get to know the characters, and the world, in the same way we'd get to know a real person. Make your exposition as seamless and natural as possible. It will take practice to know when to reveal information and when to let us wonder, but you'll get there.

7. Write in a way that comes naturally.

I know you probably have an author you wanna write just like, but that is unlikely to happen. Embrace your natural writing style and perfect it, rather than trying to be something you're not. Writing is an art, you need to find your own style and polish it as best you can.

8. Try to make us feel connected by cutting out certain words like "felt".

"Chad felt like a glass of water." Can be replaced with, "Chad was thirsty, so he reached for a glass of water." Both sentences tell us Chad wants a glass of water, but one makes us feel more connected to Chad than the other. Though both sentences have their time and place, you want to make your audience feel as close to their protagonist as possible. Make them feel like they're there, rather than just an onlooker.

9. We don't need to know every physical detail of your character.

I know you probably spent ages creating the perfect characters and you want to give us the perfect image of what they look like, but it can get monotonous and boring, why do we care that your character has brown eyes unless the colour has some sort of significance? Try to list off only the most notable features of your character and put focus only on the relevant details. Sometimes you can even not describe them at all and throw in little bits of information about their appearance for the audience to put together. We read to imagine, not to have a perfect image painted for us when we could be getting to the plot.

10. You're allowed to be vague.

Allow your audience to assume things, with some things you can just be lazy and let your audience's imagination do the work for you. Of course, don't do this with important things, but you can save so much time you might've spent researching an irrelevant topic when you can just be vague about it. You don't have to know everything you're writing about, so long as you know the bits that matter.

11. Writing is a skill that takes practice.

Don't be so hard on yourself if your writing is a bit cringe, we've all been there. The important part is that you research how to get better and keep writing those super cringe chapters. One day you'll reread something from a while ago and realize you're actually not as bad as you thought.

12. Leave your work to rest.

I know you wanna start editing right away, but once you've finished, leave it for at least a month. The longer you leave it the better, but that depends on your attention span. A month to six months is good if you're really impatient but want a good result. If you keep writing in that time your skills will continue to improve, then you'll be editing that draft with fresh eyes and fresh skills.

And if you're a fanfic author, I usually leave my chapters for a week before editing and posting.

Hope this helps anyone struggling, I thought this might be especially relevant now with nanowrimo.

I recently realized how much knowledge I've been accumulating over the years, I definitely have more but this is all I can think of for now.

I'm no writing guru, but if anyone has anything they're struggling with, I can do my best to help you out, so dont hesitate to ask questions.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Lessons in Love.

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 3615

Author's Note - hello gorgeous people, hope you're all doing well. writing this has made my heart so full, and I hope it makes you feel the same. requests are always open and more than encouraged!! currently working on a stunning jake seresin request that's just so lovely. i'm SO open to more jake requests, but also any marvel, top gun maverick, criminal minds, narcos and any others you have in mind!! just send them over, and I'll see what I can do. as always, so much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

“No way. How is that even possible?”

You look at the bewildered man in front of you and can’t help but smile.

“It’ll play anything you want it to. Anything in the world. Just ask it!” you encourage, beaming grin still plastered on your face.

“Alexa,” he says tentatively, “play Marvin Gaye.”

The first notes of Trouble Man begin to sound through your apartment, and his eyes light up. He’s looking at you like you’ve discovered something completely revolutionary.

You laugh – a real, genuine, delighted sound that flows through Bucky like a beam of light, illuminates his bones, makes his heart beat that little bit faster.

Grabbing your notebook, you delicately place a check next to Number 26 – voice-controlled devices. Number 27 is air fryers. Number 28 is Bluetooth. Number 29 is kindles and e-readers. Number 30 is Doordash. You’ve already checked off Spotify, and ATMs, and Google, and online banking, amongst many others. A list of things to better integrate Bucky into the 21st Century. A list of things to make him feel less like a man out of time. A list of things that allow you to spend all the time with him that you can.

A warm hand on your left hip and a cold one on your right pull you back into reality.

“Dance with me.” he murmurs. “Let me teach you something, for once.”

Before you can process his words, he’s gliding across the kitchen with you in his arms. Trouble Man isn’t playing anymore, instead replaced with something slower, richer. Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off you, not even for a second. He’s watching your every move, every expression, every twitch of your lips. Reading you like a book.

You bring your hands to rest around his neck, and he relaxes into you. He’s leading, swaying you gently, occasionally twirling you like a ballerina in a music box. Perfectly effortless. He’s good at this.

The sun is setting, casting a warm orange hue across the kitchen. The light is reflecting onto your hair, making you glow, giving you a halo. Angelic, he thinks. My guardian angel.

You close the space between your bodies, wrapping your arms around his middle. Resting your head on his chest, he prays you can’t hear how his heart is working overtime. You shut your eyes, and breathe him in. He smells faintly like the Bakery, like sugar and coffee and cinnamon. The place that started it all.

　            ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 

When Bucky first moved into his apartment, he’d noticed the Bakery down the street immediately. The smell of cake and coffee drifted out of the lilac colored door, enticing him in. He resisted the urge, and told himself that he’d go inside tomorrow.

The next day, he stood outside of the red brick building, and read the menu on the noticeboard carefully. Then he reread it. And then read it again. Since when was coffee so complicated? And don’t even get him started on cake. He swore there was only a few types back in the forties. Now, there was at least fifty different kinds on this menu alone. He was overwhelmed. He thought he’d be able to walk into this Bakery, get some coffee, maybe something sweet, and leave content. Instead, he's stood on the sidewalk on the verge of a panic attack. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself. I’ll go in tomorrow.

Tomorrow never comes. Every day, he takes a walk, and purposely passes the building that he longs to go into. But somehow, he can never find the courage. He knows he’ll just look like an idiot if he walks in. He’ll look lost, and out of place, and everyone will laugh and mutter. Look, they’ll jeer, The Winter Soldier can’t even order a coffee.

And so, he spares himself the pain. Lets his feet carry him past, only slowing down slightly when he passes the lilac door. Every day for three months, he takes the same route. Willing himself to go in, to find the courage. It’s just coffee, he tells himself. Get a grip.

Until, one day, you decided to change his life, unknowingly. Or maybe knowingly. He’s still not sure.

He takes his usual path, and just as he gets to the lilac door – you’re there. Stood, waiting, soft smile on your face. Bucky panics, and wills his feet to move faster, to take him away from this inevitably awkward situation. You stop him before he can make a run for it.

“Hi.”

Oh. You’re talking to him. You’re staring into his soul with no judgment, or fear, or trepidation. You’re staring into his soul with gentleness. Kindness. Friendship. He’s terrified.

“Uh – hi.” He rubs the back of his neck. Nervous habit.

“So, uh, I hope this isn’t weird, or anything. But, I’ve been watching you walk past every day for like three months, and, well…” you trail off. Now you look nervous. “Actually, I haven’t really thought this far ahead. I just see you, and I wanted to… invite you in, I guess? Not that you need an invite, of course not, we’re open to everyone, but… you always look like you’re going to come in, and then you never do. And I’ve been telling myself for months that I should properly invite you in, but now I’m realising this is, uh, really weird. And I’m sorry.”

You still have that gentle smile on your face, but it’s more tentative now. A dusting of pink is making its way onto your cheeks, and Bucky thinks it might be his new favourite color.

It’s now that he really starts to take you in. Your hair is blowing slightly in the breeze, and the sleeves of your sweater are pulled down over your wrists, to try and keep the New York chill at bay. You have bright, inquisitive eyes – eyes that contain hope, love, laughter. You make him feel almost peaceful. No one makes him feel like that. Damn.

You’ve stepped closer to him now, to get out of the way of the customers making their way through the door. You smell like sugar, and coffee, and optimism. He wants to breathe you in, let you settle in his lungs. A comfortable warmth spreads through his chest.

He decides to take a gamble and bear his truth to you. He’s not sure why, but he trusts you. He doesn’t trust anyone, these days. But he trusts you.

“Can I be honest with you?”, he asks, looking at you expectantly. You’re almost expecting him to laugh in your face at the absurdity of it all. You nod anyway, signalling for him to continue.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come in. But every time I try, I just, uh-” he stutters, and you can tell that his mind is screaming at him, sounding alarm bells, begging him to stop with all this sudden vulnerability.

“It’s overwhelming, right?” you ask, cutting him off. Saving him. Guardian angel.

You see the relief in his body at your question. His fists unclench, the tension leaves his shoulders. He smiles bashfully. Half grateful, half embarrassed. You get it.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. You giggle, and he’s convinced that the melodious sound will circle around in his mind forever, like the Earth orbiting the Sun.

You fiddle with the strings of your mint green apron, and look at him. You’re gazing at him so earnestly that he’s worried he might spontaneously combust.

“Are you busy tonight?” you ask suddenly, and he feels so dizzy he’s concerned momentarily that he’s going to pass out.

“Uh, no. I’m not,” he replies, managing to force the words out of his mouth.

“We close at 6, so meet me here at 7.”

You still have that sparkle in your eye. He couldn’t say no to you if he tried.

“Why?” he queries. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t absolutely petrified at the turn the conversation has taken.

“I want to show you around. Maybe make you a coffee, introduce you to some of my favourite things. You won’t believe how good my raspberry and white chocolate cookies are. They’re best sellers for a reason,” you beam at him.

Beaming. He wonders how he’s lived his whole life without your light illuminating his universe. Anywhere he goes without you is going to feel so dark, he thinks. How did I ever live like this?

He manages to pull himself together to smile back at you. His first genuine grin in God knows how long. He’s forgotten what joy feels like, and he’s almost drunk on it now.

He agrees to your plan, and you turn on your heel, about to make your way back inside.

“Wait!” he yells, louder than intended. “What’s your name?”

Your lips turn up into a smirk, mischief seeping out of your pores.

“Come back at 7 and find out.” You wink at him, and he has to take a few deep breaths in order to stay conscious. With that, you leave him alone on the sidewalk, where he’s silently thanking the universe for dropping you in his lap. Finally, he thinks. The cosmic punishment is over.

He does come back at 7. In fact, he’s stood outside waiting at 6:45. He can see you mopping the floor, singing as you go. His supersoldier hearing allows him to listen to your voice, even from this far away. He’s never been more grateful for the thing he used to call a curse. He’d be cursed every damn day if it meant he got to listen to you like this.

At 6:58, you appear at the lilac door, beckoning him to follow you inside. He knows that stepping over that threshold is going to change him fundamentally. He can’t wait.

Upon entering, he’s hit with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, coffee, and you. A beautiful mix of all three. Without a second thought, he reaches out with his right hand, and gently brushes some flour from your cheekbone.

“Bucky,” he murmurs.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. Lips slightly parted, chest heaving, it takes you a minute to register that he spoke.

“What?” you ask, dazed by the handsome stranger with the steel blue eyes.

“My name,” he speaks softly. “It’s Bucky.”

You smile knowingly, and take a deep breath. It’s overwhelming, meeting someone that you know is going to be in your life forever. You’re both feeling the same, neither of you sure just quite what to do.

You grab his left hand, sighing quietly in relief at the feeling the cool metal against your heated skin. Leading him gently, he lets you guide him through the front of the store, until you stop behind the counter. He’s convinced he’d let you lead him anywhere, as long as he gets to feel your skin, soft and warm, on his. Grounding. Comforting. Easy.

“What kind of milk do you like?” you ask, fingers still intertwined with his.

“There’s more than one kind of milk?”

Bucky looks so disorientated, that you want to kiss the confused expression off his face. You chuckle softly, and the sound bounces off the metal in the room, twinkling around him.

“We have cows’ milk, oat milk, almond milk and soy milk.” You take one look at him, and decide to change course. “Let’s start with something less complex, actually. Any allergies I should know about?”

He shakes his head, mischievous grin beginning to form on his handsome face. There he is, you think. He’s with me.

“I’m going to make you a latte. It’s milky, and not too strong or too sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

She thinks I’ll like it, he muses. And he trusts you - whether it be with his life, or just a cup of coffee.

You reluctantly let go of his hand, and begin to flit around, gathering everything you need. Bucky leans back against the counter and watches carefully. He watches the way you bite your lip when you measure out the milk. He watches the way the steam from the coffee machine blows your hair back from your face gently. He watches the way you’re trying to make everything perfect. He can’t remember the last time someone paid attention to him like this. His mind is telling him to sprint in the opposite direction, to excuse himself and never come back. He’s terrified. But he stays. I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

You pull him from his thoughts by handing him the mug of warm coffee. He takes it from you carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, takes a sip. He smiles, really smiles. That’s all the validation you needed.

“Let me show you where we bake everything,” you say quietly, as if you’re afraid to burst this bubble of warmth and trust you’ve created. You’re scared he’s going to bolt if you give him the chance. So, you don’t. You take his hand once more, and guide him through to the kitchen.

“Have you done much baking in your life, Bucky?”

No, he thinks. But I will. I’ll bake everyday for the rest of my life if it means you’ll love me. If you’ll make me coffee and smile at me like that.

Instead, he answers cautiously.

“Not really. I’d like to, though.” He adds that last part bashfully. You smile back at him earnestly.

“Well then you’re in the right place,” you wink. He has the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees. To pray at your altar. To worship you like an angel sent down just for him. He’s surprised he’s still stood on two feet.

Before he can even register what’s happening, you’re beginning to create a mixture for your infamous cookies. You direct him to stir, while you add meticulously measured ingredients into the bowl.

“Put those arms to good use,” you’d smirked, and a blush had risen up to his cheeks almost instantly.

You click the radio on, and a soft, jazzy melody begins to drift through the room. You’re humming quietly, gliding around the kitchen, and he decides that this is it for him. You’re it for him. He could watch you do this every day and die a happy man.

Cookies baking in the oven, you jump up to sit on one of the counters. Bucky moves to stand in between your legs, still being careful to keep his distance ever so slightly. He knows if he touches you, he won’t ever want to let go.

“This wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be,” he confesses.

“What, me?” you tease.

“No. Coffee. And cookies,” he chuckles.

“Are there lots of things that you haven’t done because you find them scary?” you ask genuinely. You want to know him. All of him. Fears, wants, quirks. All of it.

“Yeah, actually. The world is so different now. I don’t really know where to start. It’s all terrifying, honestly,” he laughs. You laugh with him, but you know there’s truth to his words. You want to wrap your arms around him. He may be 6 foot tall and made of solid muscle and vibranium, but you want to protect him.

“Why don’t we do it together?”

A pause. He’s confused again.

“Do what together?”

“All of it. The learning. I’ll help you. Everything is less scary if you do it with someone else.”

It’s now that he’s convinced he’s dreaming. You can’t be real. Why would you be here, offering him everything, after all that he’s done? He has to remind himself. I deserve this. I deserve something good.

You can sense his trepidation, so you keep talking.

“Why don’t we make a list? You write down the things you want to learn about. I’ll write down other things I think you should know. You’ll be an expert on the 21st Century before long, Buck.”

Buck. The nickname sounds like a gift coming from your lips.

“Okay. Yeah. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

The anxiety is coming off him in waves. He’s panicking. You grab a hold of both of his hands, and place one on each of your legs, just above your knees. He steps in closer, and takes a breath. You’re warm, and you’re soft, and you’re love personified. He’s okay.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m excited!” you assure him. Then, quieter, “It means I get to spend more time with you.”

He aims a beaming, megawatt smile in your direction. He feels as if his nerve endings are alight. You’ve awoken something in him. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel like this. To feel alive.

You reach over and grab your notebook. In it, you simply write his name, followed by a love heart. Then, underneath, you begin to list everything you can think of that you want to teach him. You hand the list to him, and he adds his own requests. Between you, you manage to write 50 different lessons.

“Perfect. We’ll start with number one, and work our way down. Are you busy tomorrow evening?”

He chuckles at your eagerness, but secretly, he can’t wait. He knows he’ll be counting down the hours until he can see you again.

“Nope, I’m not. You are my only priority, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment seeps into your skin, settles in your ribcage. You’re convinced it’ll warm you up from the inside out. If he keeps calling you sweetheart in that Brooklyn drawl of his, you’ll never be cold again.

　            ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 

You’re not sure if you’ve been swaying in your kitchen with Bucky to Marvin Gaye for 2 minutes or 2 hours. You’re comfortably settled into him, as if the space in his arms was made especially for you. Maybe it was.

Bucky’s voice breaks through the solitude.

“You know, I’ve created my own list,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, where he’s resting his head.

You pull back, still in his arms, to look at him carefully.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Read it, and tell me what you think.”

He untangles himself from you and crosses the room, to retrieve his leather-bound notebook. He returns, and places it carefully in your awaiting hands.

You flick open the cover to reveal the first page. You recognise his handwriting instantly. It’s spiralling, and imperfect, but so Bucky. At the top of the page, you spot the title – your name, with a love heart next to it. Exactly the same as you’d done for him when you’d originally created your list together.

Underneath your name, only one thing is written.

I love you.

You look up at him, to see him watching you, holding his breath. Neither of you know what to say. You know what you want to say. You want to tell him that you hope the list never ends, so you always have an excuse to spend time with him. You want to tell him that you watched him walk past the door of the Bakery every day for 3 months because you thought he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. You want to tell him that every time he looks at you, you feel as if you’re going to pass out. You want to tell him that you can recognise him anywhere, by touch or smell alone. Instead, you say,

“You do?”

That genuine, million dollar smile is back, etched on his face. He’s glowing, light radiating from his bones.

“Yes. I do. I think I’ve loved you ever since I saw you waiting for me on the doorstep of the Bakery that day.”

You think you might be floating. Levitating above ground, fuelled by love. You laugh.

“That’s the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

He laughs with you, then. You could get drunk off the sound.

“I didn’t think love at first sight was a real thing. I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses.

He’s convinced that the two of you have discovered something, invented it even. Because he doesn’t understand. If love feels like this, so all encompassing, so consuming – how does anyone live? Every moment of every day, Bucky thinks of you. How does anyone go to work? How does anyone ever feel sad, or angry, when love like this exists?

You drop the notebook and cross the room to him. He closes the gap, and throws his arms around you, spinning you in circles, laughing with joy. He sets you back on your feet, and tilts your chin up, so you’re looking into his steel blue eyes. You could drown in the ocean of his irises if he let you.

He leans down, and presses his lips to yours. He’s giving you all of the love, the joy, the laughter – everything good that he has ever felt, because of you – through his kiss. Your knees go weak, and he holds you up by your waist, his strong arms encircling your frame. He tastes like coffee, and sugar, and promises. You’ll never want to taste anything else.

Eventually, you break away for air. You gaze up at him, and he sees sunshine in your eyes. He’s not sure what he did to earn a love like this. You seem to sense his doubts creeping in, because you say, in the most assured voice he’s ever heard –

“No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

[k9catastrophe]

A BIG list of entirely free games therians and alterhumans can get !!! This isn't like an ad for them or anything, but when i was younger i never really had games that fit my theriotypes :( so why not start now!! this is in no real order.

These are all games where you play AS the animal, most of them being semirealistic? They're all free, so they aren't super realistic sorry!!! These are all also games i find on my tablet, so im not sure if they're available on pc!!

Wildcraft: As of today, Wildcraft updates every once and awhile, usually for the Wildpass thing they do almost weekly[? i took a large break from this game, forgive me if im misremembering.] Wildcraft was made by Turbo Rocket Games in early 2018. The multiplayer servers arent as active as they used to be, but it's still fun to play with friends sometimes!! I usually play in singleplayer though!! (Also, there is a settings option to make it first person, and one to hide the buttons!)

Playable Animals: Right now there are 12 land animals: Wolf [Default], Fox [Common], Lynx, Bear, Lion [Rares], Cheetah, Horse, Eagle, Crocodile, Tiger, Gorilla, and Kangaroo! [Ledgendaries], all of which are obtainable through the chests!! There are also 9 transformations [which are more difficult to get !!]: Raccoon, Deer, Hippo, Giraffe, Gazelle, Hyena, Rhino, Parrot, and Snake! There are also 5 Sea creatures: Dolphin [default], Stingray [Rare], Shark, Seal, and Sea turtle! You can have up to eight family members for every animal, who are also customizable! [not including transformations]

Customizability: There are TONS of skins and accessories for every animal, and you can adjust the size of their body parts, making your character entirely customizable! There are also LOTS of pets!

I give it a solid 10/10!! I've loved this game since it came out!! Me and my brother @whisperrdrrop [hii] played it like the year it came out!! I highly recommend playing this one ! >w< The community also has tons of fun creepypastas, and though the only real one is 'Niddhogg,' it's super fun to just learn about them!

Wolf Tales (Home & Heart (IT MIGHT BE 'WILD ANIMAL SIM' NOW IDK)): (The icon may have changed, my ipad doesn't update icons very much!!!) As of Today, Wolf Tales has basically stopped updating from what i can see. However this doesn't take away from the fun of it!! The game was created around 2020 by Foxie Ventures. Servers are multiplayer by default, but there is a singleplayer option!

Playable Animals: There are currently only 5 animals: Wolf, Fox, Bear, Wild/Big cat, and Dragon! All are unlocked by playing through the quests, though you can use moonstones (ingame 'rare' currency) to auto-buy most of them! Your families/packs are grown through opening chests and breeding!

Customizability: There are quite a few skins for every animal, ranging in rarity. you can obtain skins through buying the 'summoning' of the animal you'd like with moonstones and getting a random skin, or buying one directly. Skins are also not changeable! Let's say you're a grey wolf, and you get the sand wolf skin. You would have to enter your den and find that skin, and switch into that one, meaning it could have a different level! There are also LOTS of pets, though i do not remember how to get them. The only way to change your character is through changing limb sizes, there are no accessories!!

I give it a nice little 9/10, as much as i love this game i don't play it too often, but it really is fun! I think i got this game when it came out, and it was really fun watching the game and the community grow and change!! When i joined, not every player had a jump button, and there was this cool feature called 'Clans' (replaced by the player clans, sadly :() where there were 5 packs that you had to either defeat the alpha of or become besties with, and you'd get a packmate of any rarity from them daily!! My bestie pack was called 'the moonrise pack' and the #1 public enemy was 'The tooth pack' or something. I definitely recommend it :3!!

Ultimate Wolf/Fox/Forest/Savanna/Dinosaur/Cat/Shark/Bird/Jungle Simulator: they made a LOT of these games. These are only the ones that are free on my tablet, but im also seeing 'ocean,' 'dog,' 'arctic,' and 'lion' simulators for a dollar, you'd have to check and see if those are free. I'm mostly focusing on the WOLF simulator here, because i do NOT want to download all of those games. There is no multiplayer option for any of them. All made by gluten free games, no idea the release dates.

Playable Animals: The animals depend on which game you get. I know forest has bears, Savanna has cheetahs, Dinosaur has T-rex, triceratops, and ankylosaurus, bird has parrots and eagles, and jungle has tigers, but these are definitely not every animal !!

Customizability: you unlock a skin for every few levels, and you can tint them, but that's about it. For every game. There's like... 8-15 for most?

I give it a 7/10. As much as i do really, really love this game and all the memories playing it, it's really not the most entertaining game out there. If you're really bored and have nothing to do, sure, go wild with it!!

Dog Sim: I just got this game and it's so silly !! Made by Turbo Rocket Games in 2016, the multiplayer servers are surprisingly still decently active! Obviously it doesn't update anymore.

Playable Animals: The only animals in these are: (you guessed it) dogs. There's a single skin that... might? be a wolf, and there's two robo dog skins. There's a total of 38 skins!

Customizability: The only thing you can customize is your breed, sorry!

Other than that, theres a LOT to play with! With 5 bosses, 25 enemy/prey creatures, 1 map, 1 den, a max level of 200, a maximum family size of 4, 20 achievements, and 30 quests, there's plenty to do!

I give it a nice 8/10, the only points taken being because the game itself isnt the highest quality, and the models arent all 10/10, but it's still a really silly game! I do recommend it :)

Cat simulator - animal life: created in 2019 by Pocket Games entertainment, i think this one is pretty cute! With active multiplayer servers!!

Playable Animals: Just kitties! silly little kitties on big adventures!!

Customizability: Lots of cute skins and accessories!!!

There are tons of quests, camp upgrades, and more included in this!!

I didn't play this one for too long, but there are some pvp servers aswell. Overall really cute game, not too buggy/laggy! 10/10 :3

Wild Cougar Sim (3D): Another game made by Turbo Rocket games before their big success that was Wildcraft, Cougar Sim was created in 2015 (I think? I'm only finding the youtube trailer, dont be afraid to correct me.) I'm not seeing an option for multiplayer unfortunately :(!

Playable Animals: Yeah, It's just Cougars! What did you expect?

Customizability: With eight skins (Must be purchased with ingame currency), 9 coat marking options (Almost like tattoos!) including a Shark, Wolf, Lizard, Scorpion, Butterfly and Bird (Phoenix?), and options to change body/limb sizes, there's actually really good customization here!

With 3 unlockable family members, 30 quests, 20 achievements, 18 enemy/prey creatures, 4 biomes, and 8 dens, there is plenty to keep yourself busy with here! That accompanied by the fact that this isn't even a bad looking game, i honestly give it a nice 10/10! Very cute game, not much lag, pretty good in terms of realism, it's pretty cool!! :)

Dragon Sim Online: Yet another game made by Turbo Rocket in 2016, i quite like this one! With semi-active multiplayer servers!!

Playable Animals: Quite a few different types of Dragons, varying in element, colour, and breeds!

Customizability: With 4 elements, 46 (VERY pretty) skins, and limb/body adjustment sliders, you can customize your dragon pretty well!

Similar to both Cougar Sim and Dog Sim, Dragon Sim has plenty to offer: 30 quests, 20 achievements, 27 enemy/prey creatures, 3 bosses, 6 islands and 4[?] dens, there's plenty there to keep you busy! another 10/10 from me :)

this list is incomplete !! I'm still working on this, im just having trouble finding games !! If you find any free games like these, send me an ask with some info on it!!

[primrosebow]

Do you draw or write for the girls? Because I would love seeing any type of Lute, Charlie or Vaggie art in your style

Also I would eat your art 20/10

Short answer: yahhh xoxo💞

Long answer:

_-->Various hazbin hotel women x reader // art

//

!Content warnings!:the usual nsfw, this has the gals listed in the ask🫡 a few headcannons added for flavor, gn reader cause I never specified literally anything, more words than usual.

We are SO BACK 💪💪💪 request things ‼️ My activities would get me perma banned from the vatican, I'm afraid.

Charlie //

I, unlike most other people here, believe that charlie most often tries to take the role of a dom! She's used to trying to fix everyone else's problems, but, she'll crumble if she ever gets treated like the perfect princess that she is. Call her beautiful, praise her, give her that affection she desperately needs. She's been helping her citizens for so long, she deserves to get taken care of!

Honestly, when you slowly push that vibrator inside her after what felt like an agonizing ammount of time for prepping, she was ready to cry on the spot. She can barely believe you even talked her into being in the receiving end of this -she's the one supposed to be pleasing you!- Getting this much attention and love made her brain go all fuzzy and tears well up in her eyes as her limbs felt weak; she was trembling far too much from the overwhelming pleasure she felt right then to truly care about what this whole situation did to her ego.

She doesn't realize her horns have made an appearence as she pleads with you: come on! You were giving her so much attention just a minute ago! Please! Being as close to you as possible is her only wish right now. Her pitiful tone and cries for you directly contradict how her tail is shaking at it's tip, much like that of an excited cat -she's enjoying this far more than she expected-.

If you do decide to give in and finally rub on her already overstimulated clit just as you had been doing before, she'll cling onto you for dear life- practically sobbing as you give her precisely what she needs. Maybe she can get used to being treated nicely by you. (She learns that she cannot get enough of the overwhelming passionate act of letting you be in control, it's far too good for her to only experience it once.

She'll soon get a little cocky though... she isn't the daughter of the king of pride just because of her name, if you catch what I'm throwing)

// //

Vaggie //

Vaggie has placed quite a notorious quantity of expectations on herself. She's always been this way, and, continues to be despite your affirmations of her worth. Your constant and relentless words of praise to her: how beautiful she is, how strong, how perfect, how brave, how hot- it all got to her head very quickly. Your words contradicted her thoughts on herself but the way you kiss along her neck makes any thought melt away from her brain and be replaced with pure emotion.

// //

"Mh.. please, darling- I-" she tried to form a sentence, eventually getting cut off by her own moans. Her nightgown was pushed up as she laid with her back against your bed, squirming slightly as she feels your fingers rub against her insides. She clenches around you as you drag your thumb over her swolen clit, which was begging for your attention since the very start of this. Her hips stutter as she can't pick between indulging the stimulation and running away from the pleasure.

Her eyes struggle to keep themselves open, but you had told her to look at you during this. She couldn't let you down. Not when you were saying she was "doing so good f'me". Those are some of the few words that can pierce through the thick veil of the ecstasy-like feeling of your attention and carve themselves into her very soul. She was good. Good for you. She couldn't ask for anything better, and, won't- can't be letting you down.

You.. leave her easy tasks such as looking at you and being a little quieter just so she feels like she's still, in some way, being useful to you. Slow and steady wins the race, and, soon enough you hope to remove the constant anxiety of servicing you from the act of love you want to give her.

Lute //

Lute is quite interesting because she has this weird duality between wanting approval and not being able to take said approval. Sometimes, she'll activelly attempt to rile you up enough that you'll punish her (something you have already told her is not necessary, since you can be harsher on her if she simply asks) but please don't blame her! She's just used to being treated roughly, it's "safer" for her to stay in her comfort zone of thorns and cruel words at first.

But only at first. Like I said, she really does want to feel loved. One of the first times you attempted to give her the affection she craves, after having learned that she can't deal with the purely lovey, sappy affection yet, you had to get resourceful with bringing her the love she needs.

"Awh sweetheart, you can't handle this?" You dig your fingers even deeper into her, a squelching noise arises from the action because of just how wet she already is. She groans at your words, and, if you didn't know any better, she'd have sounded like any other cheap sinner from lust with how aroused she was at your teasing. But you do know better. Your comment- it was slightly mocking, it was maddening; it was a challenge. For her to keep her composure for as long as she can. Lute grabs onto you even harder so she can regain some sense of stability, finally locking eyes with you. She moves her hips slightly against your fingers. Despite it being her own action, she groans. She says in a shaky tone

"Do your worst."

Ah, you can't deny such a request, now, can you?

// //

BONUSSSSSSSSS‼️

Velvette //

"Agh- fuck you! H-ah-" she tried to act mad, don't get her wrong. She really did. But that's astoundingly hard to do when your lover has their hand in your panties and is currently relentlessly and harshly rubbing against your clit like it was the last thing they'll ever touch.

You really could not have picked a worse time to do this; right before one of her new collection showcases? Did you want her to die? You forcefully push her thighs apart when she pressed them toguether, not letting her even attempt to get back a semblance of composure. As if that wasn't enough, you had locked her bracelets toguether behind her back, and, even if she wouldn't admit it to a single soul, it really turned her on.

She tried to think as hard as she could, try to offend you, try to play her own pleasure down, but she really couldn't. Empty remarks about your incompetence or appearence or literally anything she could get her mind around slowly melted away into moans and whines, the much too familiar shame from getting overwhelmed so easily by you also pushed aside by a desperate search for her own release.

When she finally did cum, she doesn't hold back on how loud her moan of your name was, her thighs trembled as she leaned on your body for support. She intentionally turns her head away from the mirror so she won't be faced by her own overstimulated self, and much less your self-satisfied grin as you watch her panting against you.

Oh gods... what was she doing again? Hmm.. OH YOU BASTARD YOU RUINED HER PANTIES! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW EXPENSIVE THAT FABRIC WAS? FUCK YOU.

Let's just hope that the fashion gossip blogs don't catch onto how uncharacteristically out of breath she was during that showcase!

I love piracy so much RAHHHHHH‼️‼️ if buying ain't ownin, piracy ain't stealin, but I wish it were. IMAGINE‼️ you download idk ratatouille and they just don't have it anymore. "Guys they took ratatouille again..." I wish. I wish watching media through torrent sites was like taking various items from ikea.

I WOULD download a car.

@bigfatbimbo cause of the little bonus of velvette

[chadleys]

for the sub-astarion fic, just do whatever you see fit but could you atleast sprinkle in a mommy kink with a side of biting kink pls 🙈🙈

›› pairing: astarion x f!reader

›› wordcount: 1k

›› genre: smut, sub!astarion, dom!reader

›› rating: 18+, mdni

›› synopsis: just astarion being the goodest boy, that's all.

›› warnings: mommy kink, biting kink, teasing handjob, d/s dynamics

you love having him like this, in your lap, pressed so close there’s barely any room to decipher between the two of you. which is how you like it, how you know things are meant to be. the two of you; halves of one whole.

you lean back against the rough bark of a cedar and astarion leans against you, his pretty back sealed to your chest with a thin layer of sweat. his scars brush your nipples with every movement.

before you is a canyon, dropping steeply down to the valley below, and the misty mountain range beyond. all of this illuminated in the silvery glow of a full moon, big and brash in the sky, daring you to look at it.

which there’s not a fat chance of.

astarion’s gaze is glued downward, between his legs, where your hands are cradling his swollen balls and stroking lazily at his hard, aching cock.

as for you, you can’t keep your eyes off the side of his beautiful face, your nose buried in his silver curls.

you kiss the nape of his neck, gently, teasing, and astarion’s entire body shudders against you, his grip going tight on your thighs. ❝ darling, ❞ he says, and the usual brash confidence in his voice is nowhere to be found, replaced by a wheedling whimper.

there’s no helping the giggle that climbs out of you, even as your cunt drips, soaking the blanket you laid out to shield yourselves from the dirt and grass.

❝ yes? ❞ you query, and your hand strokes meanly over the tip of his cock, precum slicking the way as you squeeze.

❝ gods, ❞ astarion gasps, going rigid in your arms. ❝ well. i was going to ask if … mm … if you’d deign to go any faster? please? ❞

he turns, trying to give you his best ‘ i’m a beautiful vampire and i always get my way ‘ look.

all you see, however, is the most desperate, wanton little thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. and he is perfect.

it’s almost enough to make you want to speed up, to milk him until he’s spilling all over your hands in record time.

almost.

another quiet laugh bubbles out of you, and you hook your chin over his shoulder to see exactly what you’re doing to him.

his cockhead is red and impossibly swollen, glistening in the moonlight. there was no need for any oil tonight; he’s wet as any woman.

❝ i take that as a no, ❞ he mutters, and his grip once more tightens on your legs as he starts to drive himself up, fucking your fist.

you tut, immediately releasing his cock, leaving it to twitch wetly against his abdomen, utterly disappointed.

astarion makes a beautiful, frustrated little noise, bucks once more, and laxes back against you.

with the tip of one finger, you tease the head of his cock, just underneath the frenulum, and are rewarded with a fresh flood of precum and astarion’s exasperated sigh.

❝ you can cum like this, or not at all. ❞

❝ i — ❞ he’s about to argue with you, glaring at you out of the corner of his darkened eyes.

you give him a stern look, and he must think better of it, gaze slowly slipping away.

you sigh. ❝ you’re always so eager to try and wrest control, my love. ❞ affectionately, to show him you aren’t upset with him, you rub your nose just below his ear as you purr, ❝ why can’t you just let me take control for once? to make you feel good? i know you’ll love leaning back and relinquishing control, showing me just what a good boy you can be. ❞

the words ‘ good ‘ and ‘ boy ‘ strung together have the most gorgeous effect on the vampire in your lap. he sighs and lists back, head thrown to one side. leaving you the perfect access to his long, pale throat.

no hesitation, you sink your teeth in.

astarion yelps and his cock twitches where you’ve grabbed hold of it again.

❝ mother, ❞ he admonishes, breathless. his gaze retrieves yours; he’s joking, but only somewhat.

you decide to play along. ❝ yes, my sweet darling boy? ❞

he sniffs, looking bashfully away. ❝ i’m supposed to be the bloodthirsty vampire around here . . . ❞

starting to slowly pump your hand on him again, you press your breasts harder into his back, so he can feel how hard your nipples really are. ❝ mm, guess what? right now, you’re just my good boy. ❞

a hitch of breath, astarion’s hips aching to just thrust up into your grip until he cums.

you shush him, keeping a steady, defiant pace with your hand.

the first sign of his impending climax is a tightening of his balls in the palm of your hand as you roll them gently. the second, his nails digging deliciously into the meat of your thighs as he starts to pant.

❝ love — ❞

❝ i know, astarion. i know. just let it go, darling. be the good boy i know you are and cum for me. all over yourself. ❞

amidst the soft moist sounds of your hands pushing him over the edge, astarion gasps and his hips thrust sharply up, every muscle in his body going taut. the sight is incomparable. you could watch astarion lose himself time after time and never get sick of it.

cum shoots in thick ropes over the vampire’s toned abdomen, his thighs quivering, cock throbbing and twitching between your fingers as you glide one knuckle along that sensitive spot just below his contracting balls.

❝ by the gods, ❞ astarion chokes, as the strings of cum die out, the remainder oozing instead over your hands and wrists.

❝ someone was pent up, ❞ you giggle, slowing your ministrations. ❝ think we got everything or should i try for more? ❞

astarion grabs for one of your hands to still it, and you find that his fingers are trembling. ❝ please, no. i . . . i do think that’s enough for one night. ❞

❝ hm. fine. ❞ you scoot back just enough to be able to cant your hips up, dragging your wet cunt along his lower back. ❝ my turn, then. ❞

[aridridge]

quick temporary fix to enable skin details, overlays, & default eyes for infants

for people asking how i figured out how to get things like skin overlays enabled for infants (namely @delicateism & @simminnikas on my post). 

this is not by any means a long-term fix or even probably the most convenient way to do this, it’s just what i ended up doing for the moment so that the babies would be cute. it’s also not a way to fix default skins; it’s just a way to get your infant to have the skin you like. whoever has a better way to do this, i’d totally love to know how! this is just how i jerryrigged it for the time being :)

first, i went into sims 4 studio, and went file > open > then i clicked the package file of the skin overlay i wanted. this has to be a nondefault version of a skin overlay—it can be set as a skin detail, or maybe makeup, whatever. if your favorite skin has a nondefault skin detail/makeup version, open that in sims 4 studio, and a window will pop up.

once the window pops up, i go to the tab that says ‘texture,’ where you’ll see a picture of the skin overlay. click export, and it will export this skin overlay to a png file. that’s the first part done!

after this i went back to the home screen of sims 4 studio. on the home screen, i selected ‘override’ under the blue tab that says CAS, then clicked on that blue CAS tab, which opened a window full of assets from the game. 

under the search bar, i typed ‘storkbite’ which brought up the skin detail asset that is the infant stork bite birthmark thing. once you select it & click next, it will prompt you to name the file before you make it, so name it something so u know what it is. 

after this, a window like the one from before with the skin overlay will pop up. under the same texture tab from before, you want to press import this time. you’ll want to import the png file that you exported from your favorite skin overlay earlier. 

click save, and the name you chose earlier will be a package file now that you should put in your mods folder. now, when you go into the game in create a sim and select the stork bite detail, instead of giving your infant sim a stork bite, it will give them the face overlay you selected. (you can choose to have your skin overlay replace the other infant skin details instead, like the birth marks on their backs and legs, but you’ll have to scroll through the assets during step 3-4 until you find the one you want your skin overlay to replace.)

this same process can be done with makeup, too. there’s no makeup tab for infants, but by following this same process, you can choose to make your favorite blush/whatever replace an existing base game infant skin detail (or maybe you can make the makeup be an added swatch of an existing skin detail without actually replacing the original, if while on the home screen during step 3 you select ‘add cas part swatch’ instead of ‘override’, but i haven’t actually tested this). 

if you follow a similar process, but instead of replacing a stork bite, you make overrides by changing both the texture AND the specular of the default base game eye color assets in sims 4 studio (which will be listed as yfeyecolor, but that’s fine, it works the same), you should be able to make your favorite default eyes work for infants, too, but it’s kind of an arduous process that i haven’t fully completed yet. i’ve done it with one eye color, which worked just fine, but it looks like you might have to do them all manually, one at a time?

if anybody knows a more efficient way to fix default eyes, please, please, PLEASE rb & tell me lmaoooo. if anyone has a good way to fix default skins, please rb with that, too! <3

[muddyorbsblr]

no resistance [kinktober 2023: fingering]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: President Loki fires his assistant for booking an interview gone horribly sideways and hires you in her place.

Pairing: President Loki x Reader

Word Count: 7.4k [prepare drinkies and snacks accordingly]

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, be gone. i won't ask again); fingering; dirty talk; most likely inaccurate depictions of what a day in the White House looks like; improper use of the Oval Office desk; a handful of cuss words [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: power dynamic (she's his assistant); mentions of Natasha, Bucky, Morgan, and Steve if you squint; bit of a makeover trope towards the middle of the story; Reader is mid to late 20s

Dick-tionary (aka smut guide): smut starts at "He worked his hand back under" and ends at "When he pulled his digits"

"I uhh…I think that's all the questions I have for this interview. Thank you so much for your time, President Loki, and I wish you the best of luck with your re-election campaign."

The journalist, if she could even be called that, fidgeted the slightest in her seat, her discomfort evident from both the motion and the expression on her face. As if she knew that the god-president was now quite cross with her, and much deservedly so.

As if she knew she spoke out of turn in this interview that was so graciously granted to her.

"My security will see you off the premises. Good day, madam."

He exited the room with a slight swish of his coattails, striding down the halls with a fury now directed at his assistant rather than the would-be journalist. Once the offending individual had been located, there was a meek, fearful look on her face as well.

"Boss," her voice wavered. "Your forehead vein's making an appearance again…"

"Clear your desk. Today is your final day on my team." His voice rang out and echoed all over the floor of the campaign headquarters, most of the staff raising their heads and peering from awkward angles to have a view of the commotion.

"But Boss, you said you wanted to connect with the younger adult audience and capture their votes. Miss Lewis has an audience right smack in that demographic, her videos get millions of views, I don't understand--" She let out a frustrated huff. "An interview with her could secure you a good few million votes in your re-election. From fresh voters who've just registered and are undecided. She could bridge the gap that makes you seem so unrelatable with the digital age--"

"That woman that should never dare call herself a journalist asked me to confirm the measurements of my phallus because it appears that that is the dominating question her audience had for me," he snapped, rendering the former assistant quiet.

"I--I'm sorry, Boss. I didn't know--"

"No. No you did not. It is clear that you did not do ample research on how this Miss Lewis conducted her behavior and what type of a strategy she would likely use to bridge this so called gap of relatability. I have let a good few shortcomings of yours slide since the beginning of this campaign season in hopes that you simply needed to find your footing. But time is running short and frankly so is my patience. I no longer have leniency to spare for incompetence, especially from people that work too closely with me. Pack your belongings, I expect you out within the hour. Security will triple check for any information you may try to smuggle out of the premises, so I suggest you do not even attempt it."

She let out a sound of utter disbelief. "And how exactly do you expect to replace me on such short notice? The press will see when I'm not in your entourage at the briefing tomorrow morning."

"I assure you, it will not be such an impossible feat to replace the likes of you. Now if I were in your shoes, I'd hasten my movements. The hour will tick by before you know it."

Members of Loki's security kept a close watch on her to ensure that she only vacated her desk of her personal belongings. Checking every item she placed into her purse if there were scribbled secrets or supporters' contact information that might give the opposition some sort of an advantage over him.

Once they were positive that there was nothing she held on her person that could even remotely sabotage his re-election campaign, he had her escorted out of the building.

Now on to finding his new assistant. Preferably someone with a sensible enough head on their shoulders that they would at least do a rudimentary background check on who would be conducting the interview before writing them a gate pass and allowing them into such a private space.

Loki took a glance at the small pile of papers that his former assistant left behind. One had numerous strikethroughs and comments scratched on so harshly there were indents on the paper from whoever was wielding the bright fuchsia-inked pen.

Boring as all fuck, this isn't the aesthetic that we're going for. Try again, Y/N, the feedback read. The suggestion held the name of a creator whose content focused on documentaries centered on powerful individuals that have leveraged their platform in a negative manner. That perhaps this journalist could interview him and ask questions that touched on his past before he arrived on Earth and even some of the myths that surrounded his time on Asgard.

The president snapped his fingers at the nearest staff member, beckoning him over with an impatient flick of his fingers. "Which one of your colleagues is Y/N? Point her out to me."

The staff member raised a shaking hand, pointing in the direction of your desk. "O-Over there, Mi--Mister President, Sir," he stammered, mentioning your full name before Loki motioned for him to return to his seat. He took a good look at you, phone clipped between your ear and shoulder while you wrote something down on paper, the concentration written all over your face as you proceeded with your work.

"Yes I'll be sure to keep your contact information on file and forward your request for interview. You'll hear from us soon about schedules and logistics," you told the other person on the line with a smile stretched across your face that was so obviously strained, he could imagine your cheeks were beginning to smart from holding it.

He watched you work for a few more moments, your side of the conversation giving enough away for him to figure out you were speaking with a representative from Stark Industries. Something about a partnership to provide free sustainable energy to the impoverished communities throughout the country.

"We're very much looking forward to speaking with you in more detail about your proposals, Miss Stark. Thank you so so much for taking the time to answer my call, we'll be in touch soon." You took your little pencil and used it to twist your hair out of your face, your strained smile finally dropping. "Sorry I probably won't be able to call though because the president's PA is a complete ditz that'll reject my request because it doesn't go with the aesthetic," you grumbled, imitating his former assistant's tone toward the end and bringing an amused smile to the god's face.

"Miss Y/L/N," he called out to you, his tone uncharacteristically soft. Despite it, however, the sound of his voice still caused you to start in your seat.

Your expression morphed into a grimace, sucking in air between your teeth, looking defeated. "Good afternoon, Sir," you spoke, your words shaking with obvious fear. "You…heard me mocking your assistant, I apologize nobody was meant to hear that. I'll uhm…I'll clear my desk, it was an honor getting to work--"

"Hold on a moment there, darling, you're not in any trouble." He approached you with his hands held out and open in an attempt to tell you you had nothing to fear. "It was…quite an accurate depiction, if we're being honest. Hardly a mockery. I've erm…I've actually come here to speak with you about some of the interview requests you'd sent in prior to today."

He held up some of the scraps of paper in his hand, each of them containing your handwriting and his previous assistant's caustic feedback in the obnoxious fuchsia ink she insisted on using. "They were all rejected," you offered lamely, grimacing again as you squirmed in your seat.

"They're also quite clever. Intelligent, even." Your head snapped up at the compliment, a mixture of shock and satisfaction on your face as you looked at him. Your grimace had given way to a tiny endearing smile, a tinge of pink now in your cheeks. "Had my itinerary been comprised of these instead, today might have turned out to be more productive."

Your eyes widened to the point he worried they might pop out of your head. "The Lewis interview pushed through today?" He nodded once, a look of pity now painting your features. "I am so terribly sorry I sent over my research on her content but--"

"My former assistant likely shredded your findings," he finished, sitting slightly at the edge of your desk. "It's alright, Y/N, I don't hold you responsible for any of today's shortcomings. I see the efforts you've taken to enrich this campaign. Shamefully quite late, but I see them now. Hopefully moving forward we could work together to correct your predecessor's oversights."

"Wait, hold on…former assistant? Predecessor? Sir what--"

"I'd like to offer you a promotion of sorts. I'm in need of a new assistant, seeing as I fired the last one today for organizing an interview so brazenly invasive I might as well have taken the meeting completely nude."

"Well I'm sure Ms Lewis' audience would've loved that--" You stopped your words short, looking as if you'd bit your tongue. "Sorry I shouldn't have--"

"I'm sure they would have," he chuckled, leaning in the slightest to get a better look at you, finding himself surprisingly looking forward to what the next few days would bring, seeing your face more often as well as the potential of a better workflow considering that you seemed to be more focused on substance over appearance. "Take the rest of the day to familiarize yourself with the new workflow, as well as my itinerary. I'll defer to your judgment to rearrange or outright cancel any upcoming interviews as you see fit. I'll meet with you a half-hour before breakfast for a debrief on any changes you've decided on."

He barely gave you any time to nod your head in agreement before he reached for your hand, raising it to his lips and placing a delicate kiss on the back of your hand.

"I look forward to working with you, Y/N."

Your first few days working for President Loki had passed in a blur, working tirelessly to rearrange his schedule and maintaining a correspondence with the content creators that your predecessor had arranged interviews for. Spinning tales of how hectic the president's schedule had become on such short notice and therefore their appointments with him would have to be rescheduled at a later date.

A later date that probably would never come, considering that most if not all of the planned interviews conducted their business similarly to the one that effectively got his former assistant fired within the hour. You made a small note in your own binder that perhaps when he'd secured his re-election, they could be granted access among the crowd of reporters during larger press conferences.

"Maybe if you're among hoards of other reporters, you can keep your thirst in check and actually act like respective, decent human beings. Not asking about dick measurements like you're asking about the weather today. Thirsty idiots…" you grumbled, writing another name into the list.

"If that list gets any longer, you may need to have a rotation schedule, sweetling." You jumped at the sound of the president's voice coming from so close behind you, peering over your shoulder to find that he stood near enough that you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. "Are these all the ones you'd rescheduled from the prior calendar?"

You mutely nodded, swallowing your nerves before speaking. "All the ones so far," you clarified, clicking away at your computer to show him the packed and borderline overbooked schedule that was formerly planned for him. "I made sure to go for the ones planned in the next few weeks first so that they at least have enough time to reallocate their time somewhat. There's about six more weeks worth to sort out."

"Excellent work," he told you, his voice even closer to your ear now that he was leaning over your shoulder to peer at the schedule on your monitor. "And what does my schedule look like for today, Y/N?"

You clicked to this week's view, taking a cursory look at the calendar. "After the press briefing, you have a lunch meeting with the Department of Defense along with one of the directors of R & B Weaponries, a Mr Barnes, to discuss about a new ammo supplier for the Navy forces and your own personal security detail."

He nodded along with your summary, the citrusy leathery scent of him wafting into your space and making you a touch dizzy from his onslaught of your senses. You just had to smell immaculate on top of looking like sex on legs, you hissed inwardly, biting down hard at the inside of your lip to keep you from saying a word aloud.

"And will you be joining me in this luncheon?"

Your eyes widened at his question. Of course you wouldn't be. The information to be divulged in such meetings should be something heard only by the president or those he deems closest to him. You were his assistant, nothing more. All you needed to know were names, dates, and overall points of discussion.

"I uhm…no. I don't--I don't believe I will be," you stammered, your breath hitching when he turned his head to look at you and suddenly you could feel his warm breath on your cheek. "Personal assistants aren't usually included in the guest list for these events," you offered in a lame attempt at explaining a question he didn't even ask.

"You are now. We'll leave at a quarter to noon." He began to walk out of the office, only halting to look at you over his shoulder when you let out a tiny squeak like you were about to protest. "Are you opposed to this new arrangement, sweet mortal?"

"Uhh--" You took a breath, composing yourself. "No, Sir. I'll call the restaurant to update the head count."

President Loki smirked at you, jerking his head toward the door. "Excellent. Now we should get going. I believe the briefing will commence in a few moments."

While you were on your way to the briefing room, you sent a haphazard text to a stylist friend, a Hail Mary to hopefully get you looking somewhat presentable.

Tasha, massive SOS. I need an outfit to not look like a total clown show next to the President for a lunch thing.

You followed a few steps behind the president, taking a quick look at your watch when you got notified of a reply from your friend, Natasha Romanoff. Is "lunch thing" your way of downplaying "date"? He finally made his move on you after making googly eyes at you all week long?

Her text had you fighting the urge to roll your eyes as you stepped into the briefing room, cameras at the ready and reporters sitting straight and alert, waiting to pounce with their questions once President Loki was situated at his podium.

The hour went on mostly without a hitch, you taking your notes on near everything he'd mentioned in response to the reporters' queries. While your boss was speaking with a few people from Press Relations, your ears perked up at some small talk between two reporters, one of them having a few biting words to say about you.

"I mean at least his last assistant had some sense of fashion. I never thought I'd miss Little Miss looks like she got hired from the red light district, but at least she didn't look like some frumpy ass college student who just rolled out of bed. Honestly she's dragging the whole look down and that's saying so much because Mr President can make anything look hot."

"Except her, apparently," the other reporter shot back in a snippy tone. "Guarantee you he just hired her so that he has less of a distraction in the workplace. She's the kind people look at and they're doing the opposite of mentally undressing her."

"Mentally putting a paper bag over her head," the first reporter capped off with a witchy cackle.

You felt your fury bubbling just under the surface, wanting nothing more than to march over there and give them a piece of your mind for being so catty at someone that they didn't even know. To drag them over their impractical shoes that made their legs wobble if they so much as tried to stand straight or their two sizes too small shirts that had buttons fighting for their life trying to keep their tits covered.

Instead of doing any of that, however, you pulled out your phone to text Tasha. Firstly, no it's not a "date", when are you gonna drop that tin foil hat of yours. And secondly, scratch what I said earlier. You've wanted to give me a makeover since college? Now's your chance, Babes. Gimme the works.

You sidled past the president and his current company, asking one of your closer acquaintances from the staff to accompany him to any impromptu meetings until the lunch meeting later and to inform your boss that you had to attend to a personal matter, but that you would be back before he left for the restaurant.

As the clock kept on ticking closer half past noon, Loki could feel himself getting antsy waiting for your return. He'd noticed how jittery you seemed when you passed him on your way out of the press briefing, and the staff member you'd sent to keep him apprised in your stead gave no satisfactory explanation on what caused you to step out so abruptly.

"Where are you, Y/N…" he grumbled into the empty office, looking on at your desk that he'd moved inside so that calling on you would require less effort. Instead of stepping outside or phoning you, he'd simply have to call your name from wherever he was and you were already there.

And if he was being completely honest with himself, he'd also done it so you would be closer to him and he would see you at all times throughout the day. He found your presence calmed him, the competence you'd more than proven to have over the last few days already easing his day to day.

Just as he was about to reach for his phone and call you to check if you were alright, he heard your voice outside his office, speaking with your reliever in a tone he likened to one that he heard back on Asgard. Whenever Frigga would correct him on any missteps he had throughout his magic lessons.

"I totally get how you can get lost finding the meeting rooms, it's a goddamn maze in here. But if you make any of them lose unnecessary time because of it, not everyone will come at you with understanding. Just make sure that it doesn't happen for next time. I'll draw you up a map for the rooms that are most frequently used. Study it, live it, breathe it. See if someone from security can accompany you while you familiarize yourself with the place, and don't stop until you can navigate the floor with your eyes closed."

"Yes, ma'am," your reliever confirmed, his tone audibly less jittery than when he was speaking with Loki. "Thank you so much, Y/N. Honestly getting you to be in charge of the rest of us might be one of the best things the President ever did. The one before you was so--"

"Harpy?" you finished with a chuckle, the lightness in your tone feeling like a soothing balm to the nerves Loki had had since he saw you exit the White House so hastily earlier this morning. "Remember when I tried to suggest that we should reach out to Greta Thunberg's team?"

He could almost hear the other man shudder from the other side of the door. "Gah, she nearly ripped your throat out that day. Something something not shippable and we need to get 'hot people'. Really lost the plot, that one. Anyways, I'll go work on memorizing that map. Thanks again, Boss."

"Yikes, don't call me that," you shot back, your voice growing closer to the door, prompting Loki to walk back to his desk before you stepped into the office. "That's just for our boss, no one else." Your footsteps sounded different; there was considerably more of a click in each step, and the slightest stumble to them as if you were re-familiarizing yourself with your own legs.

There was a bizarre feeling of the air becoming easier to breathe once he heard the door open. "There you are, darling. I hope your personal matter's been sorted out and you're ready to--" His words halted dead in their tracks once he turned around and got a good look at you, quickly surmising that the 'personal matter' was a complete overhaul of your appearance.

There was an ethereal glow to your face and your hair that had his hands twitching to reach out and touch you, and in place of the slightly oversized sweater and denim you'd worn this morning was a blazer designed to be worn as a dress, set in a shade of green that matched his waistcoat perfectly. To top it all off, the buckle that cinched at your waist as well as the heels that brought your height up by a few inches were set in a gold that matched the horned helmet atop his head.

You looked like the personification of his most far-fetched fantasies whenever he thought of what he wanted in someone that would stand by his side. A confidant. A partner. A lover, even.

Someone radiantly beautiful, brilliant, and completely unafraid to declare themself as his by adorning his colors.

"Too much?" you spoke up, jostling him out of his thoughts. "I-I mean if it is I still have a change of clothes in my bag I can--"

"No, no. It's not too much, little mortal. Not at all." Mentally he was stabbing himself for stumbling over his words so clumsily; he was normally so much more composed than this. "You look…ravishing." Your eyes lit up at his words, betraying the neutral expression you tried to maintain. "Come. We should head to the restaurant."

He offered out his hand to you, confusion plaguing him when the rhythm of his heart stumbled just as his words did once you'd placed your hand in his. He found you such an anomaly, looking at you with utmost curiosity, wondering how someone could simultaneously calm the chaos all around him and yet incite an entirely different type of chaos in his heart. Not to mention his loins.

"You know, darling, had we been in Asgard, your wearing of my colors could be interpreted as a declaration of your allegiance to me," he spoke once you were both situated in the back of the car. You nodded your head slowly, as if ruminating over what he'd just said. He couldn't take his eyes off of you.

"That makes sense," you answered, seeming as if you were thinking aloud. "Seeing as I am your assistant, people should see within seconds that I'm associated with you. The color thing's probably the most tasteful way of doing it rather than a t-shirt with your face printed on it…"

"May I ask you something…a touch more personal, Miss Y/L/N?"

"O-Of course," you stammered, your nodding a touch unsteady, fingers laced together tightly as if you were trying to keep your nerves at bay.

"What made you decide to work for me?"

You blinked rapidly for a moment, seeming to be genuinely taken aback by the question, before composing your answer.

"All the people who held the position before you were horrid…evil men. All they cared about was finessing a kick back. Burying their constituents in debt. You stepped into office and…I was out of debt in less than half a year. My student loans were nowhere to be found. All because you prioritized our right to have an education. Of course I was going to try working on your re-election campaign."

Hearing you talk about his predecessors, describing them the way you did as if they were so starkly different from him, somehow didn't sit right with the god. "But darling, you do know that I, too, am what others would call a…horrid, evil man?"

You shook your head stubbornly, sitting up straighter as if you were about to deliver a lecture. "No. You're not. I've seen evil men. I've worked with them, I've--" The words caught in the back of your throat, making you clear your throat before pushing on. "I've suffered at the hands of evil men."

Your eyes met his, the sincerity in them knocking the air out of his lungs. Had he been up on his feet, he was sure that your next words would have knocked him down on his ass.

"I'm not looking at an evil man."

His next query escaped from his mouth so swiftly, he couldn't have stopped the words even if he wanted to. "Y/N, what prompted all this?" He made a motion from your hair to your feet. "Why the change?" You squirmed in your seat, as if holding the answer in was making you physically uncomfortable. "It's alright, darling, you can tell me."

There was a heaviness in your tone when you answered. Like you were holding back tears from just recounting the events. "This morning…in the briefing room. There were these reporters commenting on how I looked and how it kind of…cheapened the image. Your image. Ruined the aesthetic."

"What is it with these feeble-minded mortals and their absurd fascination about aesthetics?"

"I don't know," you blurted out. "But the thing is, Sir, I don't have to know. The only thing I have to understand is that there are people, voters, who assign a high value to the aesthetic of a candidate. And it won't sit right in my conscience if I have the knowledge that my appearance can jeopardize someone's decision to vote for you, and I do nothing about it. So…I called up a friend of mine and…told her to make me a new person. A pretty one."

You were already beautiful, he thought to himself. It mattered not how you presented yourself.

Before he could suppress the urge, he was reaching over to your side of the backseat, tucking a lock of your hair that fell loose, obstructing his view of your features. "You deserve so much better than this, sweet mortal," he said softly, stroking your cheek with the backs of his fingers, his heart warming when he saw how you leaned into his touch. "You should be working for an honorable man. A decent man."

The next words to come out of your mouth had him just about ready to carve his heart out with his own dagger and serve it to you on a golden platter. "I am."

"Babes, noooooo," Tasha whined from her end of the video call. "Why are you putting your hair up? The whole fit goes better with your hair down."

You mumbled your answer as incoherently as you could, hoping she'd chalk it off to a bad connection as you fiddled with the half of your hair that was put up in a little gold claw clip.

"What was that, Babes? I didn't quite hear you."

Dammit. "Because he told me he likes it when my hair's not blocking my face, okay?" you answered her with an exaggerated sigh. "Now please tell me my makeup meets your standards because I really don't wanna explain that I lost motion in my right arm from blending my eyeshadow."

"Okay first, your makeup's fine. I'm so proud I'm about to quote that little red cartoon dragon. And second, I can't believe you had the audacity to tell me I had a tin foil hat on, I told you the first day you walked into that briefing room with him that that man couldn't stop himself from looking at you and looking like a heart-eyed emoji. Now you're telling me this? Babes, it's time you accept it. The President has it bad for you, and give it eight to ten months, and you're gonna become First Lady Y/N Laufeyson. In fact I'm so sure of it that 'if I'm wrong, I'll dye my hair puke green. Neon, glow in the dark, puke green."

You let out a frustrated sound that echoed throughout your apartment, stepping back from the phone and showing your friend your choice of clothing for the day, just like you had every morning for the last week. Today it was a dress with puff sleeves, a high neckline with a keyhole and ribbon bow detailing, and an a-line skirt. In President Loki's signature shade of green, of course.

"Looks great, Babes. He's gonna love it."

"Doesn't matter if he likes it, Tasha. The viewers just have to not think I'm ruining his look," you grumbled, stepping out of your phone camera's view to change into the dress.

"Mm hmm, keep telling yourself that, Y/N. Have a good day at work. Try not to ride your boss until after office hours, okay?" You waved her off, ending the call and putting your phone on Silent before you headed off to the White House.

When you got to President Loki's office, he was sat at the edge of his table, hands resting on the lux hardwood surface, and legs spread.

The posture put those unfairly sensual muscular thighs on sluttish display, made worse by the way the fabric of his at least one size too tight slacks stretched and strained over his skin. You had to look away before you dared look closer because you could've sworn you also clocked some tenting between his legs.

"Good morning, sweet little mortal," he greeted you, his voice even more gravelly than usual. Your knees nearly buckled from its effect on you, already feeling the familiar pooling between your legs.

"Good morning, Sir," you answered, already feeling flushed, your breathing a bit deeper and causing an uncomfortable pinch from how bra was pinching against your breasts. "You're up early today…"

"I'm still up, darling. I couldn't sleep. Something was…plaguing my mind."

"Oh?"

He gave you a single nod before raising his hand forward, curling his fingers in a motion that had your feet moving of their own accord toward him. Had you not known any better it was like he cast a spell that summoned you to his side.

But you did know better. He didn't need to cast a spell.

"Closer," he breathed when you were standing two feet in front of him, flicking his gaze down at the space between his legs.

Your heart caught in your throat, your pulse thundering in your ears and pounding so hard you could swear you felt it even at the tips of your toes. Regardless, you obeyed, stepping closer until you stood less than a foot away from him.

"I want you to know you're free to tell me if you wish for me to stop." His words came out strained, like it hurt to say them. "I would never hold it against you. If you do not feel the same I can drop it and we can both simply pretend this never happened."

There's no way, you kept on stubbornly repeating to yourself. Even as he placed his sinfully large hands at your sides, bringing you even closer, so close that you could feel his breath warming your face.

Even as he reached up to remove the clip holding your hair up, weaving his fingers into your hair to hold you in place while his eyes roamed your features, constantly returning to stare at your lips.

The stubborn voice in the back of your head only got silenced once he closed the remaining distance between you, soft lips pressing against your own in a kiss so delicate it was like he thought you were made of porcelain and you would crack at even the slightest touch.

"You can stop me if you feel I've overstepped," he whispered, still close enough that the movement of his lips still faintly ghosted over your own. "I just simply couldn't go another day without telling you--"

You felt the slightest thrill up your spine at the surprised sound that caught in the back of his throat, when you cut him off by giving him a fleeting kiss of your own.

You barely registered the heavy sound of his helmet hitting the tabletop before he pulled you closer, one hand tugging lightly at your hair, the other roaming down your body and working its way under your dress. He grasped at your thigh, letting out a sinful moan when you parted your lips for him and your tongues met in a frantic tangle.

"Do you trust me?" he rasped, catching his breath. He let out a sharp exhale, sounding relieved when you simply nodded your head. He wrapped his hand around the inside of your knee, his other arm wrapping around your waist to lift you up to straddle his lap, knees resting on the edge of the tabletop.

The precarious position had you grasping at his shoulders, leaning into him to keep yourself from keeling over.

He splayed his hand across your back, holding you steady. "I have you, sweet girl." He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, kissing his way down your neck until you let out a strangled moan once he'd reached a spot between your neck and shoulder.

You had to be dreaming. That was the only explanation for this. You slept in and you were still in your apartment and now you were about to be late for work. Yup, that was it. You tried to dig your nail into your palm, wincing at the sharp pinch you felt but nothing came of it.

"Agh--" Your nail broke skin, a tiny spot of blood blooming on your palm.

"Darling Y/N, what in the Nine are you doing?" He wrapped his hand around your wrist, running his thumb across your palm, seeing the minuscule wound.

"This is a dream," you mumbled, more to yourself. "I have to wake up."

"Little mortal," he cooed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "You think this a dream?" You whimpered at the smirk he gave you when you nodded. "So you've dreamed of this before? Of my kiss? My touch?"

Ah what the hell I'm dreaming anyway. "I have. Every night."

"Oh my sweet little mortal." He pressed a kiss to your palm, the pinprick wound suddenly nowhere to be found when he pulled away. "I can assure you…if this is a dream, it is one we share. The things I've wanted to do to you. With you. Now that I know you've wanted this, too, there is very little that can stop me from turning those dreams into reality."

He worked his hand back under your dress, between your legs, fingertips teasingly trailing up the inside of your thigh. He let out a staggering breath when he met the fabric of your panties, drenched with your arousal.

When you began to whimper from his fingers tracing along your slit he pulled you in for another kiss, effectively muffling your moans when he began to circle your clit over your panties. You started to roll your hips into his touch in response, your body already aching for more.

"So deliciously eager," he purred, kissing his way to your ear. "But I'll be needing you to stay alert, darling." You let out a little squeak when his hold tightened around your waist, keeping you from grinding your hips and chasing your own pleasure. "Now tell me what will be on my itinerary for today."

The softly growled order had your mind scrambling, thoughts that usually easily stitched together to form whatever answer he needed suddenly becoming disjointed and lost to the recesses of your consciousness. "Wait what?"

"I'm sure you understand my need for those under my employ to be mentally sharp as a tack. Regardless of my desire and affection for you, sweet mortal, you are still among those people." You arched your back, pressing your chest against his when he moved the fabric of your panties aside, sliding a single finger inside you and moving in long, languid strokes. "However now we could perhaps make our little morning discussions a touch more…interesting."

"You have the p-press briefing at eight and--Ohh fuck!" Your grip on his shoulders tightened when he inserted a second finger and curled them upwards, brushing against a spot that had you letting out the most obscene moan that filled his office.

"Such vulgar words from your lucious lips," he panted, stealing another kiss from you, nipping at your bottom lip as he pulled away. "Like watching an angel in the midst of corruption. On her pretty little knees for her god." He brushed against the spot with firmer strokes, making you wetter and turning you into a whimpering mess. "Keep going. What comes after the briefing?"

Your mind was spinning trying to recall. You mentally smacked yourself for struggling to remember when you'd just been committing the schedule to memory on your Uber ride here.

"U-Uhm…You have a pre--a prefatory meeting with Morgan Stark at 9:30 to dis--Fucking hell--To discuss free sustainable e-energy to lower class communities." You kept on frantically combing through your memories of your ride over here to recall the rest of the schedule.

"And what else, sweetheart?" He stilled his fingers while pressed on that same spot, lightly ghosting the pad of his thumb over your clit. "You're already doing so well. Finish it so we may move on to more…pleasurable…activities."

He pressed his lips to the base of your throat, the feel of him sucking lightly on the skin driving you near incoherent. "You--You have a meeting with R & B at three. To fi--" You threw your head back and let out a howling moan, his hand tightening on your back to keep you from falling over. "To finalize the contracts for the Department of Defense. And your security detail."

"Not just my security," he grunted, starting to stroke his fingers again. "Yours, too."

That was enough to break through your pleasure-induced haze by a fraction. "Hold on. What? Sir, I don't need--Ohh!" The rest of your words died with an obscene moan when he started flicking his fingers rapidly inside you.

"You're far too valuable for me to not allocate resources to ensure your safety when I can't protect you myself," he explained, peppering kisses across your collarbone. "Is that all for my day, sweet girl?"

"Y-Yes!" you whined, trying desperately to move your hips for even the tiniest bit more friction. "That's everything."

"Excellent." He moved his hand up to hold you by the back of your neck, letting out a sinful groan when he licked into your mouth. "And you'll be joining me in all of those, won't you?"

"Do you want me to?"

"I always want you with me," he murmured against your slips, letting out a moan of his own when he kissed you again, starting to move his fingers faster and pressing his thumb firmly on your clit. "Now come for me, my sweet mortal. My corrupted little angel. Make a mess on your god's fingers."

Your orgasm overtook you as the god moved his hand to your lower back, guiding your movements as you rode out your high, coating his fingers with your release. Your mind was a haze, the sound of his raspy utterances of your name barely hitting your ears. His chest heaved against yours, lips pressing soft kisses to the side of your face while your breathing evened out.

When he pulled his digits out of you, you let out a whiney groan, already feeling the loss of him. The sight of the god placing his fingers in his mouth, his sinfully dexterous tongue lapping up every drop of your juices from his skin, had you squirming in his lap all over again.

"More already?" he teased, pulling you in for another kiss. You could faintly taste yourself on his tongue. "What a beautifully insatiable little mortal you are. It's as if the Norns had made you just for me." His hands freely roamed your back while he kissed his way down your neck, sucking a bruise onto your collarbone. "I've indulged myself in such fantasies of claiming you on every surface of this office. Of every room in this house. I want to lay you down on my desk without a stitch of clothing on you and get drunk on the taste of you."

You could only respond with a faint whimper, images of what he'd described taking up all the space in the forefront of your mind. "Please…"

"I promise you we'll have all the time to make every single one of those debauched fantasies come to life, sweet girl." He kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the table, softly chuckling against your lips when you started to pout at your feet hitting the ground. "But I want our first night together somewhere more intimate. A moment that shouldn't be rushed and stolen between meetings, held in secrecy in my office."

He held your chin delicately between his fingers, keeping you from looking away at him. The mere sight of the near fully blacked out eyes shining with sincerity and held back words was enough to have your knees buckling again.

"Later tonight," he continued. "When everyone's day is over, then our night can begin. I'll bring you to my private quarters and there…" He took a deep breath, a brilliant smile stretching across his face, a real one so starkly different from the practiced smirks he gave the public. "There I will make love to you."

He guided you to take a step back from him, your heart fluttering when he placed a soft kiss to your forehead before conjuring a majestic golden mirror into the room with a flick of his wrist. The image of you visibly disheveled, paired with the smeared lipstick marks all over President Loki's face, had you biting your lip trying to hold back a smile of your own.

You held the undone ribbon of your dress between your fingers. "And here I spent a good ten minutes on this trying to look all perfect," you told him playfully, a fit of giggles finally escaping you when he took the straps from your hands and used them to pull you to him once again, capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

"Much as I appreciate the effort and having you look as if you'd gift-wrapped yourself just for me with this lovely little flourish, may I say that it matters not how you dress. You were already perfect the day I first saw you on the campaign floor."

"I was wearing a ratty old sweater from college," you shot back, finding it hard to breathe.

"The color of the sky on a stormy day." He brushed his nose against yours, pressing a soft kiss to the tip. "Turn around. Face the reflection."

When you faced the mirror again, he redid the ribbon exactly as it was when you left your apartment with a wave of his hand, kissing along the side of your face as he put your clip back in your hair.

"There you are, sweetheart," he cooed, nipping at the shell of your ear. "Not a hair out of place." Another wave of his hand and he, too, had returned to his state before you walked into the office. "I'd very much like for you to join me for breakfast."

You answered only with a nod, reaching for his hand.

As he led you down the halls toward the dining room, you sent Tasha a quick text.

About what you said earlier…fingers don't count, right?

A/N: It's finally done! The initial 5 stories goal of Kinktober 2023 are all up and I'm finally going back to writing the series I haphazardly dropped when I decided to write these pieces over a month ago. And I finally have a President Loki story in my little library of works 😳👀

I swear I didn't expect to write such a mega chonker for the first President Loki story but I got all kinds of carried away…so much so that there are scenes that I cut from the final draft that might become drabbles somewhere down the line.

For now though…back to the blorbos of 'one look & they'll know', 'relinquish the crown', 'the final Lady Sharpe', 'let me hear you', 'rules of conduct', 'feels like mine'…and some other not-so-secret projects 😳👀

Ohh…and that bit in the end where he pulls on the ribbons of her dress? This was fully the vibe:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Kinktober taglist: @azula-karai-27

[amatchinwater]

I Know What You Want From Me / Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Song fic of 18 by Anarbor, your parents kick you out when you tell them you can't be with Jason because you're already dating Eddie...except that you aren't. So now you have to go to Eddie after not speaking for years and ask to not only live with him, but pretend to date you too. What could possibly go wrong there?

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, semi-public sex (they're in the woods), squirting, unprotected sex (reader on pill, but not stated until after), cream pie, choking, spanking, protective reader (Jason gets his shit rocked), angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective Eddie, reader's parents are awful

Words: 9746 (oops?)

a/n: I feel like I've been working on this forever and a day. With the finale, I had to stop because angst wasn't something I could handle just yet. But the fluff and ending makes the angst worth it. Requests are still open.

Master list

Part 2

Not my gif!! Credit to the lovely @msmischief101

It’s been a long time since you’ve pulled into Forest Hills Trailer Park. A really long fucking time. Part of you wants to turn around, just get on the highway and never look back at this godforsaken town and their prejudiced beliefs. That having money and a pristine lifestyle makes you worth something. It’s bullshit. And you fucking hate it. And you want out. Hell, your bags are already packed in the backseat behind you.

You’re eighteen, legally, if you really wanted to, you could run. Run as far away from not only Hawkins, but Indiana in general. Now that you’re eighteen, you have a sizable trust fund. Your father wanted to rescind your rights to it. Change it to where you’d only see a penny once you were twenty-one. Or worse; married. Somehow your mother convinced him not to do that, that you’d be able to use the money for college. 

You’re not even sure you want to do that either. 

But there was one person in your life who told you that no matter what you did, they’d always stick beside you. While that statement hasn’t held true these last six years or so, it was far from it being his fault. No, you shamefully hold that crown. 

Once you started to rise up the social ladder in school and your father got a big time promotion at work, your parents forced the social debutant bullshit on you. You hated every single second of it. Every one of those dumb parties they dragged you to. The dinners and get-togethers. They all sucked. And everyone there was so vapid and full of themselves, you wanted to scream. 

Now that you’re eighteen and “supposed” to be looking at prestigious colleges for some job you’ll never want, your parents did the worst thing imaginable. They tried to set you up. Quite literally wanted to give you an arranged marriage. God, the look your father gave you like it was supposed to be some wonderful gift you should be grateful for. As if being pawned off to someone like Jason Carver is to be coveted. 

Fuck that. 

So you did something really stupid. Like, really stupid. You told them that you couldn’t be with Jason because you were already with someone else. You’d hoped it would just be enough to make them drop the issue. It wasn’t. They poked and prodded until you gave them a name. You told them the only person in Hawkins you could even remotely think of. 

Eddie Munson. 

The conversation with your parents was pretty short after that. Being told to pack your bags and not come back if you wanted to align yourself with “someone like him.” That if you were grown up enough to make your choices, to go live with him and see how long it lasts, and not to come crying to them when you wind up pregnant. 

You did exactly that. Grabbed everything you felt couldn’t be replaced and left. But for some reason, instead of just driving towards the town limit and getting the fuck out of dodge, you found yourself on your way to the trailer you used to spend a good chunk of your childhood in. 

Because you grew up there. You were once neighbors- something your parents try very hard to forget- and childhood best friends. You used to be on a first name basis with Wayne. And despite what everyone says about him, that he’s a freak or the satanist propaganda, you know Eddie. Knew Eddie. So maybe there was some small part of you that hoped Eddie was still that sweet kid at heart and would let you crash for a few months until graduation and then you could leave Hawkins for good. 

It was a stupid idea from the start. One not fully formulated or even properly processed. 

But here you are, pulling up to the familiar, yet foreign trailer with Eddie’s van parked right out front. And of course it’s pouring rain. The day your life goes to shit wouldn’t be a nice, calm evening. No. When have you ever been that lucky? When is anyone that lucky? 

Turning the engine off, you sit and listen to the rain patter against the roof of your car. Contemplating leaving again. Maybe the real reason you came here was so that you would be convinced to stay. Eddie has never been one to run from his problems. The bloody nose he gave Jason a year ago for taking a swing on him is proof of that. So maybe you really want someone to tell you to man the fuck up and grab life by the balls or some shit. 

Just some strange words that manage to sound inspiring because they’re coming from Eddie’s goofy grin. 

“Fuck it,” you grind your teeth, shoving your door open and stepping out into the storm, wincing when the freezing water sinks into your skin. “Shit, shit, shit,” you jog up to his front door, thankful for the awning over the porch. Not letting yourself be talked out of this, you pound on the door to be heard over Shout at the Devil being blasted from Eddie’s room. 

“Henderson, I already told you-” Eddie’s yelling as he yanks open the front door, “-you’re not Henderson.” 

“No,” you shiver, hands rubbing your arms. How did you possibly get drenched in the ten steps it took you to get from the car to his door? Eddie’s features are guarded and you can’t help but shiver again. From the cold or his stare, you’re not really sure. Maybe you should just leave. The highway is sounding more and more tempting. “I should just-” you trail off, gesturing back towards your car.

Eddie finally takes a look at your state and his eyes widen, furrowed eyebrows losing their tension, “no, come in,” he opens the door further. “I-I’ll get you a towel,” Eddie runs off. 

Shaky bones carry you over the threshold, goosebumps only getting angrier at the warmth of the trailer. It looks exactly like it did the last time you were here. Except maybe a few more hats have joined the collection on the wall. Eddie comes back with two towels, placing one on the couch and offering you the other. “Thanks,” you take it, toweling your hair before wrapping it around your shoulders, sitting on the one he’d set down for you. “I’m sorry to just barge in like this,” your eyes begin to burn with tears. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” Eddie sits beside you and you can practically feel his warmth radiating off of him. That's how cold you are. 

“I did something really stupid,” you admit, shaking your head, wanting to curl up in a hole. “My parents want to hand me over to Jason. Pretty bow and everything,” you choke out a laugh. “Like I’m some prized trophy wife or some shit.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie nearly shouts. You laugh sarcastically, nodding your head. His face twists, “but hang on, that’s a stupid thing they did. What stupid thing did you do?”

You fiddle with the fraying corner of the towel, dropping your gaze to your lap, “I told them that I couldn’t be with Jason.”

“That doesn’t seem stu-”

“Because I’m in a relationship with you,” you pull your head back up, meeting deer in the headlight brown eyes and a slack jaw. Nerves make your tongue ramble, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told them that. You were the first person that came to mind when they wouldn’t stop asking me who could be more important than Jason. And I just- I didn’t know what to do. So I just thought- I don’t know what I thought. But w-we used to be best friends once, I-”

“Yeah, once,” Eddie tongue in cheek scoffs, “then you got popular and I didn’t matter anymore. So, what? You thought you would just come here and I would live up to this fantasy relationship? Because it’s you?”

Your head drops again, “they told me if I wanted to be with you that badly that I should go live with you. That they didn’t recognize their daughter anymore. They kicked me out, or maybe I just ran. I don’t know, Eddie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into this.” Tears spill from your eyes, when you look back up at him, “I’ll just get back in the car and leave town like I should’ve done in the first place. I’m sorry,” you take the towel off your shoulders and place it in his lap, getting up off the couch. 

You make it all of three steps until Eddie’s hand wraps around your wrist, “wait.” He sighs as you turn to face him. “Let me get this straight, you told your parents you were dating me because I was the only person you could think of that was better than Jason?” 

Rolling your eyes, you scoff, “well, duh.” It might have been instinct that made you say it, doesn’t make it any less true. Jason doesn’t hold a candle to Eddie in any situation. Not to you. Years of separation be damned. 

“And you now have nowhere to live?” You shake your head no. Eddie sighs again, “I’ll do it.” 

“W-what?” You ask. Because surely you heard him wrong. Eddie doesn’t owe you a fucking thing. “What do you mean you’ll do it?” 

“I’ll help you keep this facade that we’re dating for the sake of your parents and Jason,” he sneers at the name. “Move in here with me, Wayne won’t mind. He still asks about you from time to time, I’m sure he’d love the idea. And then, when you graduate, you’re free to do whatever you want.”

Blinking rapidly, you nearly stumble backwards. Shocked that Eddie would do this. “Why?”

“Your parents are assholes,” Eddie laughs and you do too. He’s far from wrong. “Pissing them off by pretending to date you and giving you a safe place to live? Fuck yeah, I’ll do it. Besides, I’m sure if they told you about it, Jason already knows. Which means I get to make that asshole jealous. It’s a win-win.” He laughs again, softer this time along with his smile. “And you’re right. We were best friends once, maybe we could be again.” 

“I really don’t give a fuck what Jason or my parents think, Eddie. I’m just sick of them thinking that they can control me,” you tell him. “But if giving them the finger is enough incentive for you, then I appreciate it. For what it’s worth, I really miss having you as my best friend.” 

“Me too,” he smiles, pulling you into a hug. “How about you go take a shower and I’ll make you some hot chocolate. Booze free this time,” Eddie chuckles.

You laugh, remembering when you were younger and neither of you thought Wayne would notice the vodka two twelve year olds put in their drinks. “Honestly, I probably wouldn’t mind it this time around,” you pull away. 

“Comin' right up,” Eddie grins, heading into the kitchen while you go down the hallway. 

Stopping at the bathroom you poke your head around the corner, “hey, Eds.” He stops humming, milk hoovering the pot, quirking an eyebrow at you. “Thank you,” you smile, tucking into the bathroom to shower off before he can answer. 

—

At school the next day, you’re not really sure what to expect. Eddie drove you in his van and you were given more than a few looks from people you don’t even know. Which were thankfully easy enough to ignore. Somehow you’re also lucky enough that all of your classes before lunch didn’t have a single one of your “friends” either. Friends meaning Jason’s friends who were nice to you because you had money and a pretty face. 

But your actual lunch period? Practically the entire basketball team shared the same block as you. And the second you walk out of the lunch line, Jason immediately finds you. You’re wearing darker clothes and have certainly kept your head down. How the fuck did he find you so fast? 

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he smiles with too much teeth. Voice so sweet it’s sickening. 

“Should’ve hid better,” you mumble, clutching your tray to your chest to keep a barrier between the two of you. “Did you need something?” You ask, eyes scanning the room to find literally anyone you could run to to save you from this. You find Eddie’s friends from Hellfire all around the table, but no sign of Eddie himself. You know their names thanks to Eddie telling you about them last night. But you don’t really think you can just go up to them for help. 

“Well, I was talking to your parents the other day,” he pushes his hands farther into his letterman jacket pockets, ducking his head to appear coy. “I was hoping you’d like to go on a date with-”

An arm snakes around your waist and you nearly jump out of your skin, until you hear, “there you are, babe.” Eddie curls you close to him, kissing the side of your head, “you ready to go sit?” 

You turn to him with a grateful smile, ready to answer, but someone else’s words come out. 

“What the fuck is this?” Jason snaps. 

“I’m sure you know Eddie,” you smile sweetly, fighting the eye roll at the jock before you. “My boyfriend,” you state, loving the way Jason’s eyes are ready to bulge out of his head. Eddie chuckles smugly beside you, his grip tightening only just. You’re actually glad he’s getting something out of this too. Even if it’s just shoving it in Jason’s face. Makes it feel like you’re not using him.

“I thought they were joking!” Jason seethes, “you’re seriously with this freak? You chose him over me? A freak?” 

“Eds, could you hold this please?” You extend your tray towards him, which he takes with a confused expression. “Thanks,” you kiss his cheek, turning your attention back to the blonde. “One, no, it’s not a fucking joke. Two, he’s not a freak. And three,” you slap Jason right across the cheek with a resounding crack, silencing the cafeteria. “If I hear you say some shit like that about him again, you’ll be lucky a slap is all you get. Fuck off, Jason.” 

“Holy shit,” Eddie sputters a laugh, “that was fucking awesome!” Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, Eddie walks you towards the Hellfire table, neither of you caring about the grumbling jock behind you. Or the hushed chatter that’s fallen over the cafeteria. “And here I thought I was the one coming to your rescue,” he teases, placing your tray on the table surrounded by his wide eyed friends. “Come here,” Eddie sits down, his arms locking around your waist to pull you into his lap. “Thank you.”

“I’m your girlfriend, Eddie,” you remind him. Though it’s just for show, it doesn't mean that you’re not going to act the way a proper girlfriend should. Defending your boyfriend from an asshole definitely fits the bill. “I’m not going to stand by and let someone talk about you like that.” 

“So I definitely heard that right?” Dustin, if you remember correctly, stares at you two. “You two are dating? Since when?” He shrieks. 

You freeze for a second, you hadn’t thought that through. 

“For a few months now,” Eddie offers, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles on your waist. “Her parents are pretty strict," he rests his chin on your shoulder, humming in contemplation, "so we’ve been keeping it quiet for a bit. But, she was ready to go public with it.” 

“Slapping Carver in front of the whole cafeteria is pretty public,” Jeff laughs, “and pretty sick!” He offers his fist to you. 

You can’t help but laugh, feeling welcome at their table as you reciprocate the fist bump. It’s actually really nice. 

“My girl doesn’t mess around,” Eddie turns, kissing your neck. 

Maybe you two should’ve gone over some boundaries. Because that felt a lot better than it should’ve and you two aren’t even technically together. But then you remember that everyone is supposed to believe this so that Jason and your parents leave you alone. If even anyone suspects it’s not and word gets out that this isn’t real- you shiver at the very thought. And the way Eddie said ‘my girl’ sent a whole different kind of tremor down your spine. 

What have you gotten yourself into?

—

Somehow you managed to survive the first two weeks of publicly “dating” Eddie. Jason for the most part has left you alone and you haven’t seen or heard from your parents either. It’s so freeing. It makes you wish that you had stuck to your guns when you guys had moved out of the trailer park and kept Eddie in your life. Even listening to them and doing everything they wanted, they still turned around and did the worst thing imaginable. So what else could they have really done if you’d stuck by Eddie’s side the whole time? 

It’s too late to know now, but at least you can make up for the lost time by being here now. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind it. The dinners you share while Wayne is at work. The hasty breakfasts the three of you share in the mornings before school. The weekends though, the weekends are your favorite. Because unless Corroded Coffin has a gig, you and Eddie just hang out at the trailer together. 

“What did you wanna do today?” You ask, flopping down on the couch beside Eddie and throwing your legs on his lap. 

Rubbing your exposed calves, he purses his lips, “I was thinking I should probably take you on a date.” Eddie leans his head on the backrest of the couch to look at you. “You’ve been living here for two weeks now. While it’s all good and well that we’ve been annoying the living hell out of Jason at school, you know how people in this town love to gossip.” 

“Okay,” you draw out the word, furrowing your brows. Not really understanding why Eddie is willingly wanting to be with you romantically outside of school. That would make this feel real. You’d definitely feel like you were using him if you did that. 

“If people see us walking around town together, I’m sure word would get back to your parents.” Eddie pats your leg, “Jason isn’t the only one we’re supposed to be convincing, right?” 

He’s got a point. If your parents get a whiff of this relationship’s fallacies, they’ll drag you back home kicking and screaming. “What’d you have in mind?” You ask, warming up to the idea quickly. 

“There’s a double-feature of Nightmare on Elm Street at the theater tonight,” he shrugs, tracing shapeless designs on your skin. “We could do that and then walk around town with ice cream or some shit. That’s a couple-y thing to do, right?” 

You smile brightly, basking in his shyness. “That sounds really nice, Eds,’ you nudge him with your foot. “Most girls would swoon over a date like that. Well, they’d fight for some romantic movie. But I’m so down for Freddy. When does it start?” 

“About an hour.” 

“I’ll go get ready!” You hop up from the couch, practically running out of the living room, leaving Eddie chuckling on the couch. 

“Thank you,” you hear Eddie say, grabbing your ice cream cones from the girl behind the window of the cute little ice cream shop in town. “M’Lady,” he offers you your chocolate peanut butter scoops, holding his now free hand out for you to hold while you walk back to the van. He’d left it parked by the theater so you could have the whole ‘experience’ of a date. Eddie is just as serious as you are about making this seem real.

He’d even apologized to you for the neck kiss and you sitting in his lap. Explaining to you that he’s a pretty tactile person, that he’s only acting how he would if he was actually dating someone. He was adamant in you telling him if he makes you uncomfortable- he doesn't. Your heart throbbed painfully in your chest that you’re keeping some girl from being in an amazing relationship with such a sweet guy. Even more so when there’s an even worse pang at the thought that you don’t have this for real for yourself either. That this thing you have going with Eddie is fake. 

There’s this small part of you wondering if this could be real. 

“Thanks,” you smile, taking his hand, licking the creamy goodness. Eddie laughs a little at you while you’re walking and eating your desserts. “What?” You ask, licking your lips. 

“You got a little-” Eddie gestures towards your face. A group of girls walk past you arm in arm and Eddie smiles, “here, let me.” He leans in and kisses you, tongue brushing along your bottom lip for the smallest of seconds. Enough to send a shiver down your spine that certainly can’t be explained by the ice cream when his mouth is so warm. “Better,” he grins again, dragging his thumb from the corner of your mouth. 

There’s a blush violently burning your cheeks as you blink rapidly. You don’t even know what to say, so you turn your head, biting away a smile and reclaiming his hand to walk down the road again. “Thank you for tonight,” you say, tossing your napkin in the trash as you pass it. “It-” you pause, thinking you heard someone call your name. Shaking it off you try again, “it was really nice. So, thank you.” 

“Of course,” he drops your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side. Kissing the side of your head, Eddie says, “I’m glad you had a good time. Enough people are out tonight so-”

“Y/N!” 

You definitely heard it that time. Eddie did too. Whipping around, you see your parents stalking their way towards the two of you. Speak of the devil, right? “Fuck,” you curse under your breath, anxiety stowing only just at the protective way Eddie tightens his hold around you. 

“Say the word and we run, okay?” He whispers in your ear, "I've got you." 

All you can do is nod as your parents come to a halt in front of you. Your father barely even looking at you, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Your mom on the other hand can’t decide who to set her daggers for eyes on, you or Eddie. 

“Mrs-”

“Don’t.” Your mother holds her finger up at him, “you don’t get to talk.”

“Excuse me?” You sputter out.

“And you,” she sets her fury on you now, “it’s time for you to come home young lady. Enough playing house with him,” you mom can’t even say his name, yet the word holds the same amount of venom. “This isn’t you. Please, just come home and all will be forgiven.” 

Anger boils inside of you. Not asking how you are or caring if you’re happy. Just more of them telling you that you’re ‘not yourself’ and you’re so over it. “Fuck that,” you snap. “I’m not going anywhere with you. My home is with Eddie. Yeah, he has a name, mom,” you lace the word with as much disdain as she’d offered him. Shocking her to her core not only from your language, but your behavior. Good. You finally feel like yourself.

“Then we’ll cut you off,” your dad’s stern voice cuts in. “See how long it takes you to come crawling back with no money.” 

“First of all,” you square your shoulders, “both Eddie and Wayne make money. Second,” you chuckle dryly, “you’re really going to love this. I went to the bank. I’m eighteen now in case you forgot. I transferred everything into my own account. That money is mine. But if it means more to you than your own daughter, I’ll gladly give it back. I can very easily get a job. I don’t need anything from you.” 

Your father puffs his chest, “listen here-”

“No, I think it’s time you listen,” Eddie cuts him off. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with her or how she chooses to live her life. She is fucking incredible! And there's definitely no thanks to you fucking assholes. She’s an adult and capable of making her own decisions. And unlike you, I’d never hurt her or force her to do something she doesn’t want to. You want to stay with me, right?” He looks over at you.

It’s rhetorical, you're almost certain. But you answer it anyway, “absolutely.” 

“There is it,” Eddie grins widely, opening his arms at your parents. “She’s made her choice.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you pull gently on Eddie’s jacket, trying to coax him away. Eddie death glares at your father, but starts moving with you, only turning once you’ve yanked a little harder. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Your father snaps, his hand grabbing your arm tight enough to hurt. 

You whip your head around to face him, seething, “let go of me.” Eddie looks furious, ready to punch him in the face and honestly, you’d probably let him. But that’s more of a scene than you’re willing to cause right now. You won’t let Eddie get in trouble over you. When your dad makes no move to let go of you, you say, “let me go or I’ll scream.” 

He drops your arm as though it’d burned him, whispering your name with hurt eyes. 

“Come on, princess,” Eddie’s arm curls back around your shoulders, keeping you close. No longer face to face with your parents, your chest tightens and your eyes burn. Not because you miss them, but all of your emotions have boiled over, demanding release through tears. “Wait just a minute more,” Eddie rubs his nose in your hair, “don’t give them the satisfaction.” He opens the passenger door for you and you crawl inside. 

The second he’s settled in his seat, the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry they said that to you,” you sob, chest constricting. 

“Why are you apologizing to me?” He stares at you wide eyed, speaking softly. “I should’ve punched him in the face for what he said to you, are you kidding?” Eddie reaches over, cupping your face and wiping your tears with his thumbs. “No one should talk about you like that. Especially not your parents.” 

“Can we just go home please?” You ask, hoping sheer willpower will make your tears cease. Your eyes already feel sore. 

“Of course,” he rubs your cheeks again, leaning closer to kiss your forehead. “Here,” Eddie pulls his leather jacket off, handing it to you, “you’re shaking.” 

You smile softly, sliding your arms through the sleeves, the scent of Eddie so close calming you down enough that the tears well up, but don’t fall. It’s one thing to defend Eddie from some dickhead jock like Jason. Watching him stand up for you to your own parents, treating you vastly better than they ever have? Heartwarming doesn’t even come close.

—

“Do you need anything?” Eddie asks after you’ve showered and are just sitting up in bed, he’s changed into sweats now and a faded Metallica shirt. 

“Not unless you have something that can make my mind be quiet long enough to let me sleep,” you answer, curling your legs to your chest and holding them. 

Eddie purses his lips, “I could roll us a joint,” he offers. “I usually smoke before going to sleep. It could help. Only if you want to.” 

“I’ve never smoked before,” you whisper, embarrassed by the fact that you’re ‘dating’ a drug dealer, yet have never done any yourself. “But I trust you,” you try to smile, but it falls flat. Still a little too upset over earlier. “I’m willing to try if you think it will help.” 

“Best sleep you’ve had in a while,” Eddie smiles, walking over to his dresser, grabbing a wooden box from the drawer. “Are you sure?” He asks one more time, sitting down beside you, “I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you or anything.” 

“You’re not,” your smile is genuine this time, “I’m sure.” You stare at his fingers while Eddie pinches the weed into the thin paper. If you weren’t so upset, your brain would probably short circuit at the way his tongue glides along the edge. That shouldn’t be allowed to look like that. 

After he takes two puffs of his own, he hands the joint to you, blowing the smoke out. “You might want to take small hits,” Eddie suggests when you bring the rolled paper to your lips. “Small hits,” he repeats, hopping up from the bed, “I’m gonna get us a drink real quick. Small,” Eddie enunciates. 

You don’t really know what’s considered a small hit, so you inhale maybe halfway, doing your best to hold the smoke in your lungs before letting it out. A cough bubbles in your chest that burns nearly as much as the weed. Eddie comes back just in time with a can of soda for you. Cracking it open with a fond smile on his lips, he tosses some snacks on the bed beside you. “Not as bad as I thought,” you say after taking a sip. You take another hit, handing it back to Eddie once he’s seated. 

“Are you going to be okay?” He asks, squinting around the smoke trying to go in his eyes. 

With a heavy sigh, you prop yourself on the wall beside the bed, “I think so? I’m not even sure why I cried to be honest. They suck and I don’t know why I expected them to react any differently than that. I’m more angry about the way they treated you.” You take the joint back from him, Eddie scooting over until your thighs and arms are pressed together. Pulling the smoke into your lungs, you appreciate it not burning as badly as the first time around. Enough to take a bigger hit, “this is definitely helping. So are you,” you whisper. 

Eddie nudges you with his arm, “happy to help. You’re my best friend and I’m always going to be here to take care of you. Until you get sick of me that is,” he teases.

Laughter bubbles in your chest, your cheeks hurting from how much you're smiling. Whether that’s the weed or just Eddie in general doesn’t really matter to you. “Aww,” you coo, absolutely certain that your newfound confidence is from the drug, “I don’t think I could get sick of you, Eddie.” You tell him, playing with a lock of his hair, surprised when he doesn’t tell you to stop. “I’m really grateful for everything you’re doing. And I meant it, I don’t expect you and Wayne to take care of me for free. I’ll get a job if it comes down to it.” 

“Please,” he snickers, handing the roach to you to finish off, “Wayne is overjoyed that you’re here.” Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder and you tuck your head into his neck. “If there was mention of you leaving, he’d probably pay you to stay. He really did miss having you around. I think he secretly always wanted a daughter.” He takes the almost burnt paper and places it in the ashtray by the bed. 

“But he got the metal head outcast with a heart of gold instead,” you smile though he can’t see it. “Just-” you huff a small breath, “thank you, Eddie. For everything.” 

Eddie kisses the side of your head, “of course, princess.” Too high to care, you giggle at the name shooting warmth throughout your system, but it’s broken off with a loud yawn. “Looks like I’ve done my job,” he chuckles softly, “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

You lay down on the pillow, pulling the blanket over you, but when Eddie tries to get up, you reach out and grab his hand. “Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” He whispers, soft eyes looking over your tired face. 

“Could you-” you swallow the barrier in your throat in the form of nerves. “Will you stay with me? I don’t really want to be alone right now,” your voice barely above a whisper. 

Eddie smiles softly, his thumb brushing along your knuckles, “yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” He lets go of your hand so you can move over to give him some room to lay down beside you. The moment his back touches the bed, you curl up to him, resting your head on his chest. A contented sigh sounding off listening to his heartbeat in your ear, along with a dopey smile on your face. “Better?” He teases, though his arms wrap around you, one hand rubbing your back while the other plays with your hair. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, already falling asleep. 

—

Controlling your emotions seems to get harder and harder the longer this plays out. Having Eddie back in your life is honestly the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And you couldn’t be more grateful for him. Not just for having him as your best friend again. But over the last month and half, your heart thought it would be a really good idea to evacuate your chest and take home inside his. Graduation was supposed to be the light at the end of the tunnel. Now it just seems like an ominous deadline.

The day you lose Eddie. 

You’re far from ready for that. In fact, being with Eddie, actually being with Eddie, doesn’t seem like all that bad of an idea. But this was supposed to be temporary, even for him. How in the hell are you supposed to propose that? It’s not like Eddie has shown you any hint that he’d want this to be anything but an act. At home, he’s just your friend. Aside from getting high together, he sleeps on the couch so that you can have the bed. 

What you should be focusing on is the book in your hands while the group plays through their session. But your eyes keep trailing back to the head of the table. Eddie, Dungeon Master himself, sitting on his throne while having the time of his life. He truly is a novelty to watch like this. Carefree and enjoying himself. It’s amazing. 

“NO!” Dustin yells, startling Pet Semetery right out of your hands. 

Usually you’re better at not jumping from their antics, but the teen does not sound happy. Meanwhile Eddie is cackling and knocks a piece off the board. Flicking your eyes around the table, you notice it was the last piece standing aside from the one indicating the monster the group had been fighting. They lost. 

“Another ruthless, unbeatable campaign?” You muse, looking at your thrilled ‘boyfriend’ while everyone gathers their things to leave.

“Always, princess,” Eddie bounds over to you, leaning on the armrests of your chair, “always.” The doors close, leaving you two alone. “Don’t act like you didn’t help.” 

Narrowing your eyes playfully, you look up at him, “yeah, I thought they’d at least have a chance though.” 

“You’re far too devious for anyone to stand a chance,” Eddie closes the distance and kisses you. 

Instinct and pure want for him, you kiss back for a moment. Pulling away with immense effort, speaking with a small voice, “no one’s here, Eds,” you whisper. “You don’t have to act like you want to kiss me,” you say, trying to gauge how he might feel about the situation. He just kissed you after you both heard the doors close. But you also don’t want to get your hopes up too high either. That there could be a reality where Eddie wants to be with you for real too. 

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, his face unreadable, “you’re right. Sorry,” he clears his throat again, “let’s go home.” 

When you grab your book and stand up, Eddie heads for the door, keeping a step or two of distance between you. Is this just how he would act if you guys weren’t pretending to be together? Because when you’re alone, he’s not this cold. Silent. Or did what you say upset him?

Even when you make it to his van and he opens the door for you and you mutter, “thanks,” all Eddie does is offer a pinched smile. 

His silence continues the entire drive home. Eddie doesn’t even sing along to the music he plays. Nor does he drum his hands on the steering wheel. It’s putting you on edge and you want to say something so badly. But you also don’t want to risk actually pissing him off either. So, you follow his lead. Not saying a word while he drives you both home. 

Things don’t get much brighter from then on either. Eddie follows you into the bedroom, grabs his acoustic guitar, and goes right back into the living room. You are absolutely not going to sit in bed and cry about change in behavior. Not at all. You’re going to do it in the shower so there’s no chance of Eddie hearing you, like a smart person. 

Smart, right. 

If you were so smart you’d tell Eddie how you really feel. 

—

“Are you coming to band practice today?” Eddie asks you while you’re putting some mascara on in the bathroom. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” he scratches the back of his head, “the guys do love it when you come though.” 

“Just the guys?” The teased question spills from your lips before you’d even had a chance to filter them out. But it’s out in the air now.

Eddie grins for the smallest of seconds, “I like when you watch us too. You actually give us honest opinions. Will you come?” 

“Can you give me two more minutes?” You ask, waving the mascara brush around, “I’m almost done.” 

“Take your time,” he smiles, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, “I’ll be out in the van.” 

Quickly, you finish your makeup and go back into the room to get your shoes on. Not wanting to wear a bra, you find one of Eddie’s hoodies and throw it on over your thin shirt. You’ve never seen him wear it, but his spicy cologne rests on the fabric. You allow yourself a moment to bring to sleeves that barely let your fingers peek out of it to your nose to breathe him in. The cologne, the smoke, the very essence of Eddie. Pretending that his arms are wrapped around you instead of his clothes. 

Not wanting to take too long, you snatch the book off the bed and run out the trailer to meet Eddie in the van. 

You sit through the covers of Iron Maiden and Motley Crue while you read your book. They’re actually really good and you do enjoy listening to them. It’s always nice to see Eddie in his element. Happy and perfectly himself. It isn’t until he mentions something about playing a new one that you start to pay attention a little more. It’s different from what they usually play, and has to be an original because you don’t recognize it either and can’t imagine any other voice than Eddie’s singing it. 

Then the chorus hits, and they have your full attention.

“So if you wanna piss off your parents, date me to scare them, show them you’re all grown up,” Eddie sings, his words the night you ran to him echoing in your head alongside the lyrics. “If long hair and tattoos are what attract you, baby, then you’re in luck.” 

Eddie wrote a song about you. Eddie wrote a fucking song about you! But your eyebrows furrow, because it doesn’t sound all that nice, to be honest. Like he’s letting his frustration out through it. You told him you didn’t care about what your parents thought, assuming that was just the incentive for him going through with this.

“You know, I’m broke, so you pulled out your Daddy’s card,” he continues with the song. The memory of you two grocery shopping together flickering in your brain. 

You had wanted to make dinner for him one night as a thank you, but couldn’t find much in his kitchen. He’d told you Wayne didn’t get paid until the weekend and that all his money from dealing went to take out. You promptly dragged him to the store and bought enough food to stock the entire kitchen. Yes, you even made sure he- and you when you chose to partake- had plenty of munchies around too. 

“Should’ve seen this coming from a mile away,” Eddie hasn’t looked at you once the entire time he sings. The rest of the guys just seem to be jamming out. Except Gareth, his face starts to twist, something mixed with confusion and understanding, his drumsticks almost falter. “I’ll play your game. I know what you want from me.” 

But this- this isn’t a game to you. Eddie isn’t a game to you. In its bones, it’s a great song. But your eyes are burning. Blurring with tears as the song goes on. Every lyric a knife to your heart. 

“And I know it’s just a phase, you’re not in love with me,” Eddie finally looks at you as a tear falls from your eye. You quickly wipe it away, seeing the same pain reflected in his big, brown eyes. “And I know it’s just a phase, you’re not in love with me. You wanna piss off your parents, baby. Piss off your parents, that’s alright with me.” 

The song ends and you hastily wipe the rest of your tears away, ducking your head back into your book so the rest of the guys don’t notice them. It’s bad enough that Eddie saw them. You knew you should’ve said something to him last night when he kissed you. You fucking knew it. And now you’ve hurt him. Hurt Eddie enough that he wrote a song to express himself. You feel like the biggest jerk there is. 

—

Something told you that you needed to drive yourself to school today. Eddie didn’t question it. You guys had another silent night at home. Didn’t talk about the song or confess your love to him. But you did decide that you will be doing that today. You just needed to have a moment to sort the words in your head into cohesive sentences. 

Then lunch rolled around and Eddie mentioned he’d be meeting Jason in the woods after school to sell to him. That sounded really fucking weird to you, he just waved off your concerns. But you also heard about Chrissy buying from Eddie too, so you didn’t think anything of it if he didn’t either. It wasn’t until you were walking to your last class that you happened to pass Jason in the halls talking to his friends about how they were going to jump Eddie when they met up that it all made sense. 

Why you wanted to bring your car. Why the whole concept of Jason buying drugs didn’t sit right with you. You skipped your last class to wait near the spot they’d meet. Your baseball bat sitting in your passenger seat. You’re not about to just let Jason hurt Eddie. But you’re also not an idiot. You watch from your hiding spot while Eddie sits on the bench waiting for the unknown threat to show up. 

He can take care of himself against Jason, that’s been proven. But you don’t want to see what would happen if it was three or more guys. When Jason first shows up with three other guys whose names you could care less to remember, your nerves light up. Eddie’s too because he rises from the picnic bench with his arms raised. Grabbing your bat, you get out of the car, careful to stay out of view. 

Inching closer, Jason’s voice finally makes it through, “she’d never actually want to be with a freak like you. No way. She wants to be with me, just like her parents want her to. Maybe if you let her go, we won’t hurt you.” 

Yeah, fuck that. Clenching your hand around the bat, you step into view, “back off, Carver,” you command. Swaying the wood back and forth. “I warned you once already.” 

“Princess,” Eddie warns, but you don’t want to hear it. He might have pieced together why Jason is here, but you’re not backing down. Never again. Not since the moment you stepped foot in his trailer what feels like ages ago.

“Can’t you see he’s corrupting you? Just come with me so that I can take care of you,” Jason yells back, looking honest to god perplexed. “This isn’t you. He’s messing with your head.” 

“He’s letting me live!” You shout, tired of everyone trying to tell you what’s best for you. Like you’re incapable of figuring that out for yourself. One thing’s for certain, it isn’t fucking Jason. And it isn’t your fucking parents either. “He takes care of me better than anyone else ever has! Eddie makes me happy!” 

“Aww, princess,” Eddie coos softly, making your heart swell. 

“Don’t make me say it again, Carver,” you swing the back at your side again.

“Grab him!” Jason snaps and two of the guys grab each of Eddie’s arms, pinning them behind his back. You hadn’t even noticed they were getting closer to him, you were so focused on making sure Jason didn’t do something stupid. Eddie struggles in their grip, loosening their hold, only to be forced still. 

Looks like Jason did do something stupid afterall. “I warned you, Jason,” you spit, swinging the bat, hitting him in the face with a satisfying thwack. He stumbles to the dirt, clutching his split, bleeding cheek. The remaining jock, not holding Eddie, helps Jason to his feet. Whipping your head to the others, “let. Him. Go,” you growl while Eddie stares at you with literal heart eyes. The boys keep their hold, flicking their gaze to their captain who's whining. Good. “Fine,” you huff, swinging the bat again, connecting with one of their legs. 

Eddie stumbles as they release him, the one you’d hit falling to the forest floor, yelling in pain. His partner in crime helps him up and you aim your bat again, a crystal clear warning. One that even Jason pays attention to and all four jocks limp away. Once they’re out of view, the bat thumps to the ground and you face Eddie. 

“Are you crazy?” He asks, pulling you close, staring in your eyes waiting for an answer.

“Don’t ever tell me again that I don’t love you, Eddie Munson, do you understand me,” you rush out, crashing your lips to his. A soft moan combined with an absolute sigh of relief pushes past your lips when he holds you tighter, pulls you even closer, and returns the kiss. 

“Why would you do that?” He breaks the kiss, holding you by the small of your back. “Where did you even get a bat from?” 

“That dick led you out here just to jump you. I heard him in the halls. I wasn’t going to just let him,” you roll your eyes, brushing his bangs from his eyes. “I told you it felt weird.” 

“And the bat?” Eddie repeats, looking where it's laying on the ground. 

“I’m a girl in a small town,” you state like it should be obvious. “It’s called self defense.” 

He snorts, “hot.” You playfully punch his chest, making him laugh. He quickly grabs your hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss our knuckles. “So, I make you happy, huh?” Eddie grins slyly, cocking an eyebrow at you. 

“Very,” you smile back, leaning in to kiss him again. Hard. Pressing into him until he’s backed against a tree, groaning into your mouth. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for weeks,” you admit, pulling at his bottom lip with your teeth. Lovingly swiping it with your tongue at his hiss from the action. 

Suddenly your back is against the tree and Eddie’s hips are digging into yours, the bulge in his jeans leaving nothing to the imagination as to whether or not he’s believing and enjoying your words. “I told you I wanted to marry you when we were kids,” he rasps in the small space between your mouths. “You coming to me soaked and asking for help, even as a ploy I’d accept it if it meant you being in my life again. I never stopped wanting you, princess. Ever.” 

“Good,” you reply, claiming his mouth again, Eddie’s hands gripping your hips. You moan when he kisses down your neck, biting at the crook and your eyes roll back. “Eddie,” you whine, trying to spread your legs for more friction. He shifts, his thigh pressing between your legs, rubbing beautifully against your clothed pussy. It’s not enough and you whine again, “Eddie, please.” Every pent up feeling you’ve had for the last month ready to burst at the seams. 

He chuckles against what’s surely a purple mark on your neck, “right here?” Eddie teases, licking your abused flesh, nipping his way back up. “Can’t let me take you home first?”

“No,” you say once his blown, brown eyes fall on your face, “I can’t. I need you, Eddie, please,” you gasp. Breathing becomes harder the longer his thigh digs into you, sparking flames deep in your core. 

“Right here in the woods, huh?” He asks, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. “Maybe Jason was right,” Eddie chuckles, cupping you where it aches, “maybe I did corrupt you.” 

“Good,” you moan, grinding against his hand, “I’m yours to corrupt, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes darken further, pupils widening and getting hazy, “that’s my girl.” His fingers undo your button and zipper before yanking you to him, pulling you back towards the picnic table. Pushing you down face first onto the wooden surface, he drags your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. “Look at you,” he tries to coo, but it’s so full of lust that it’s raspy and thick, “so wet for me already, princess.” Eddie kisses your spine, making you shiver, “last chance,” his hands rub your ass. 

“Please,” you croak, eyes burning, needing him inside of you right now. Groaning a guttural, “fuck,” when his tongue dips inside your dripping cunt. “Eddie,” you gasp, him eating you out better than you’ve ever felt before. The long licks and the way he pushes his tongue as far as it will go to tease at your clit. It’s intoxicating and before you can beg for more, two fingers push inside you and you keen. Hips bucking at the pressure against the bundle of nerves deep inside. 

Your moans turn to a mewl, Eddie nipping at the back of your thighs, his hand cracking over your ass. The sting shoots white hot jolts of electricity through you, an orgasm beginning to warm you from the inside out at a startling rate. Kissing your ass, you feel Eddie smile, “you taste so fucking good princess. So fucking good. God,” he groans, “and you’re all fucking mine. Aren’t you?” His fingers move faster and all you can do is moan and nod, thighs shaking with the need to come. “Aren’t you?” Eddie repeats with another slap to your ass, wanting an actual answer. 

Like he isn’t taking away your ability to form proper thoughts let alone understandable words. Huffing your breath, trying desperately to speak, “y-yes, yours,” your gasp, his tongue joining his fingers, flying you over the edge. Wave after beautiful wave slamming into you in quick succession. Had Eddie not had his fingers inside of you, you’d have slumped right off the table. “I’m yours, Eddie,” you groan when he removes his fingers, half hearing him undo his own belt and the slide of his pants. 

“Good girl,” he soothes the spot he’d smacked with loving strokes of his palm, spitting into his other hand. A whine escapes your lips feeling the head of his cock glide against your pussy. “Ready, princess?” Eddie asks, tapping your cunt with his dick. You think you say yes, you’re almost certain the word came out of your mouth. All you really care about is that Eddie heard your consent and his dick slams into you completely. “Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” 

A groan shifts to a whine when he slowly drags himself out of you to the tip, sliding back at the same pace. “Eddie,” you whine again, trying to push your hips back to make him move faster. The heat in your core burns at a dizzying rate from the surprising intensity of the leisurely roll of his hips. But his grip on you is sure, you’re completely at his mercy.

“Look at that,” he gasps out, doing it over and over. You can only imagine that he’s just watching himself disappear inside of you and enjoying it immensely. “So pretty,” Eddie moans, thrusting harder, but only just. Still pulling out till just the tip of his cock is left inside you and ramming himself forward. The pace punches moans from your chest and has your eyes roll back with every deliberate jab to that sweet spot. 

“Ed- fuck!” You cry out, his control of teasing you or keeping up with his own pleasure snaps along with his hips. Eddie holds your hips hard and rails into you harder. Thrusting with abandon and the coil inside of you winds tightly. Threatening to break at any given moment. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moan repeatedly, eyes blurring with lust. 

Eddie fists his hand in the back of your hair, yanking you up to his chest, “that’s right, let it all out, princess.” He wraps a hand around your middle, trailing his fingers down to circle around your clit. “I wanna hear how good I make you feel,” Eddie bites at your neck, sucking what has to be a constellation of marks on your skin, his thrusts not once faltering. “Come for me, pretty girl.” 

His words, his hands, his cock, him. Eddie flies you right over the edge of your orgasm. The coil snapping so hard you feel your pussy spasm around him and do something it’s never done before, even when you’ve played with yourself. You cry out, screaming a moaned, “Eddie,” as your cunt gushes around him. A tear falls from your eye, overwhelmed with sensation but Eddie holds you close, keeping you grounded with an orgasm infused smile on your face. 

He doesn’t gentle you through it, his fingers never ceasing their toying with your clit, “you’re gonna come for me again,” Eddie moans in your ear. You’re nearly overstimulated, but oh so addicted to the feeling of his dick inside of you that you couldn’t care less. You’d come as many times as he’d get you to. “Then I’m gonna come inside my pussy, understand?” 

“Please, please Eddie, fuck,” you moan, your cunt clenching around him with a vice grip. You want to meet his thrusts, but you’re too lost in the perfect pace he’s set that you hadn’t even noticed the all too familiar tingle creeping up on you. Thighs shaking, you hold his arm, the hand in your hair snaking around to a light hold on your throat. Another grunted moan in your ear from Eddie is all it took for you to fall apart again. A breathless scream as your pussy squirts around his cock once more. 

“That’s my girl,” Eddie’s grip tightens around your throat. His fingers finally leave your sensitive clit alone to hold you steady, thrusting a few more times until he shoves himself inside. Eddie lets out a moan, spilling himself deep inside, warming you from the inside out. “Fucking hell, I love you,” he pants, peppering your neck with sweet kisses. He carefully helps you back onto the table top, your hands propping you because your legs are far from stable. 

Your mind is blissfully quiet, only caring about being in the moment with Eddie. You’ll deal with the thought of doing this in the middle of the woods later. Right now, you just want him. Eddie pulls out from your sore pussy as gently as he can and gingerly pulls your pants back up. Kind of pointless considering they’re pretty much instantly soaked from his come leaking out of you. But that’s okay too, you like the feeling. You turn to face him, finding he’s already got his pants pulled up too. 

Reaching out to hug him, Eddie does you one better, scooping you up into his arms in a bridal carry. “You okay, princess?” He asks, kissing the top of your head when you tuck into his neck. 

“I’m okay. Some water would be great right now though,” you mumble, the pure scent of Eddie mixing with the woods around you is better than any aromatherapy out there. “And food. God, and a bath.” 

Eddie chuckles, bending to grab your bat from the ground, “good thing I have a cooler and some snacks in the van. Think that’ll be enough till we get home and I can make you something?” 

“‘S perfect, Eds,” you smile against his skin, curling your fingers in the ends of his hair as he carries you to his van. “Will my car be okay?” 

“I’ll have Gareth or Jeff come get it for you.” Eddie stops in his tracks, “uh,” he chuckles. “Do we need to stop at the pharmacy?” 

Lifting your tired head, you ask, ”why,” heavy lidded eyes barely focusing on him. 

“We didn’t use a condom,” he states, “and I definitely didn’t pull out.” 

You laugh, thumping your head back into his neck, “Eddie, my parents controlled every aspect of my life, you really think they wouldn’t put me on the pill?” You resume playing with his hair and he begins walking again. “I would’ve stopped you otherwise,” tugging his hair lightly you giggle, “it’s more than okay, Eddie. Just get me home so we can eat and take a bath together.”

“Coming right up, princess,” his smile is evident in his tone and he kisses your hair again. 

Part 2

[dreamauri]

hii!! i love your writing and i have an idea. toto wolff’s daughter used to date max but they broke up (bc yk mercedes and redbull rivalry) and she starts dating a footballer (it can be anyone that you want but i was thinking mason mount), but out of nowhere they break up and he shares in a podcast idk that shes still in love with her ex, max. id love to see how this would end 🫶🏻

┊𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗗𝗔𝗬𝗦 ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max verstappen x fem! wolff! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( angst )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠word count — ( 2, 104 )  ╰ 🫧  :: ⁠ content warning — ( X )

★ ☆ This was from like august, im so sorry its so late. ik the annon said anson mount, but i dont really know his personality that well, so you can just imagine any person you want ig ━━━━━

( main master list | more of max verstappen ) ( requests )

2021

Everything was so blurry. You could see the illumination coming from your phone, little blurry grey and blue texts. You couldn't feel your body, ragged, unsteady breaths falling to and from your lungs.

"Block him. And delete his number. I don't want you to go out with him or be seen with him ever again." Your father's strong voice was the only sound in the room. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, but he wouldn't even look at you, rubbing his eyes as he sat on the bed of your hotel room.

Too many things were happening at once. This wasn't fair. This was wrong. "Aber papa." [but dad] "My words are final, Y/N." He spoke with such authority and strictness, you hated it when he was like that with you. Looking back down at you phone, you saw the 'seen' under the last bubble of text you sent.

Panic shot through you like a sharp arrow, hurt climbing through you. Scrambling quickly, you block the number and delete the contact. You couldn't bare to see the reaction or the reply. And you stood like that for a few minutes, the world falling apart as Toto talked. But you weren't listening. And you didn't want to listen. You didn't want to hear his voice.

And before you were to even realize it, you'd smashed the phone against the wall.

You tore the Mercedes shirt off your body, replaced it with a random sweater, stomping around the room, collecting your things. "What are you doing?" Toto stood up, watching you stuff you belongings in your bag. He held your wrist to stop you but you only yanked your arm back, shouting something at him, anything at him.

Toto was defiantly taken aback. He's never seen his little girl like this. Eyes red with tears, yet so angry. He never even thought he'd hear such hurtful words from you either. No father ever wants to hear 'i hate you' from their daughter, and it hurt right in his chest. You shoved the Mercedes shirt in chest, zipping up your bag and headed straight for the door.

"My love—" "Ich bin keine tochter von dir." [I'm no daughter of yours] Was the last thing he heard from you before the door was slammed shut.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2023

The Las Vegas GP had truly ruined the city. Max couldn't even have a nice drive from his hotel to the circuit in peace. The traffic was heavy and the honking was loud. At this point if max could, he'd just dump the car in any corner and walk the few kilometres himself. But he couldn't. And this added another reason as to why he hated this Grand Prix so much.

Try something else, he told himself. Disconnect. Max turned on the radio flipping through the channels every two seconds when his ear caught something. His stomach was flipped upside down and he was pretty sure he felt like his lungs would explode.

"You broke up with Y/N L/N recently." "Yeah, I have." "But she was such a nice girl." "She is. She really is. She wasn't clingy or needy. Like the perfect amount." "And beautiful as well." "Very beautiful, if you get what i mean." The men on the podcast laughed. Max felt him self frown. How dare they talk about you like this was some sort of goldy locks story.

"Yeah, She's perfect and all. But she's really hung up on her ex. You didn't even have to ask her, you could just look at her and tell that she wanted something else. I'm not going to say names, but the guy really fucked her up."

fucked her up? Max felt his heart skip a beat, or even more likely, it stopped beating at all. He turned the radio off quickly, gripping the steering wheel till his knuckles bled white. Of course he had fucked you up, no wonder things went the way they did. They shouldn't have went that way. He should've never gotten his rival team's boss' daughter to fall for him.

No! What was Max thinking? The months he spent with you were the best things that have ever happened to him. It wasn't his fault. How would he know the Mercedes and Red Bull relationship would grow so bitter. How would he knew you'd be caught in the cross fire. He spends one winter break with you and then it all rips to shreds.

Was that why you changed your Last name? So he wouldn't find you? Must've been since it did work in your favour.

Y/N L/N.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Y/N L/N, Max thought as he typed the name into google. Your face was the first thing to pop up and Max had to hold down a gulp.

You definitely grew up. The playful and bubbly aura to the girl had almost completely dissipated, leaving a quiet and mature woman who looked very serious and uninterested, with a defiantly much more womanly body, enough to get you on the cover of vogue.

"You okay, mate?" Max looked up seeing Checo. They were gonna do the opening ceremony at any moment and the world champion did not look like he was in his head. Max quickly swiped off the tab and shrugged. "Nothing, just some drama." The blond waved it off, tucking the phone in his pocket.

The teams were being announced, starting with HAAS all the way up in the constructor ranking. "I never took you for a person to be interested in drama and stuff." Well, Checo was correct: Max wasn't into that kind of thing. He just happened to stalk his ex by accident since he couldn't get the thought of her out of his head.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You lied to me." You huffed, stuffing your hands in your pockets, refusing to take a step further. "I didn't lie to you, technically. I just didn't tell you." Your friend shrugged, hooking her arm with yours and forcefully pulling you along while you tried to resist. "I don't want to be here, you tricked me." "I did."

It was certainly a sight. Lady gaga dragging Y/N L/N at the paddock of the Las Vegas GP. "The cars dont bite, N/N." "Yeah! That's because I'll be the one biting you!" The woman quickly let go of you at the threat. You went to walk out only to find people looking at you with exited and confused eyes. The exit was now too far.

With a dissatisfied sigh, you held out your hand and Lady Gaga took it, continuing to pull you along. "Today's just the race. So we'll watch. We'll wave the flag and then we'll leave." "I'm not waving the flag." "I'll do it."

You folded your arms, watching from the bottom of the grid on the side as the drivers arrived on the grid. The cars were lined up with car #16 and #1 on the top row, thankfully far away from you. Thankfully, the Mercedes were also far enough as well. You definitely wouldn't stand out in some non-flashy hoodie and shorts. You would've dressed better if you knew you were going to end up being forced into this.

People didn't really notice you at all, more concentrated on the drivers and celebrities. But they soon did notice you, a celebrity being pointed at by a driver. 'No way' Danny ric mouthed, face bright with surprise, a wide smile and arched eyebrows. He waved you over, and waved even harder when you shook your head in decline. You didn't want to appear rude. So you stood to his side, side hugging him as he rambled on about how much you missed. And you listened. You couldn't hate danny. he was like a big brother since f1 was practically your life.

"You should've told me you were coming, ya know." "I didn't even know I was coming." You chuckled, looking around.

FUCK! you looked away quickly, cutting the eye contact with Max short. Bad idea. Very bad idea. You thought, heart hammering in your chest.

"He still loves you." "Huh?" You looked up at Daniel confused. "Max." "no no." you shook your head. "He does." "he doesn't." "He was searching you up." You paused. "I saw it, your name on google." "That's called stalking—" "But he still thinks of you." "good point . . ." "You should think about it, considering how things ended. I think you should at least be on the same page." ". . . thank you danny."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Oh shit." You looked at gaga confused. "Hold this for a second, something's in my eye." She handed you the chequered flag, more like shoved it into your chest while she went to fix her eyelash.

"A little faster." Your hurried, hearing the cars come around turn 17. But gaga took a step back continuing to try and fix her issue. With a huff, you stepped forward, leaning your body on the railing, waving the flag just in time for Max who crossed first.

When all the cars finished the last lap you finally took a step back, flexing your wrist tiredly from doing all these Xs. You turned to see Gaga smiling at you, her eyelashes long forgotten because there wasn't an issue all along.

"You suck." You grumbled, and she laughed taking the flag from you. And just like that, finally you were able to get out of there. The crowds were too busy watching the podium ceremony to see you exit and leave through the parking lot.

You plopped in your car, turning on the engine. You couldn't bring yourself to drive out though. The excuse would be that the engine was still not warm enough. But really, you didn't want to leave behind those blue eyes again. they deserve an explanation for what they read that night two and a half years ago. But it's not like max would know you're waiting for him, or find you if that's the case. How would he know you're waiting for him in your car?

Well however he knew, he knew. The passenger door was opened and the Dutch man sat in the seat next you. You didn't even realize he had been looking for you throughout the whole parking lot, hoping to see you again. You've been looking down at your hands for goodness knows how long. You only looked up one you heard him cup his hands together and blow into them.

You cleared your throat, turning the seat warmer on for him. He must've gotten used to the warm Monaco weather for a cold city like this. The two of you sat in silence for a couple minutes. You didn't dare to look back at him, because you knew he was looking at you. And if you looked at him, who knows what would happen next because for sure you're still fucking dying to kiss him.

"Max, I'm sorry." / "Y/N, I'm sorry."

The two of you froze, looking at each other. "You go first." Max nodded.

You took in a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. "I didn't mean to end things that way." and i didn't want it to end, you wanted to add but opted to leave that out. "Torger barged in my room and told me to end it right then and there. I didn't really have a say in anything." You sighed deeply, scratching the back of your neck. A moment of silence dawned in the car until Max spoke again.

"That explains the spelling mistakes." he chuckled lightly, opening his phone and scrolling through until he found your message chat. You could see the 'ts pver' and 'domt tezt or tqlj to me wver afqin' messages at the bottom. an un received message holding the words 'wait what?' 'baby whats going on' you never saw these messages, you'd blocked him by then.

"We should've talked." You admitted. "In person- discussed things. This wasn't fair to you . . . I really am sorry. I should've never let someone take control of me like that. I ended up hurting you."

". . . I always thought you hated me." You sprung up eyes wide as you turned to him. "No no. Never." You shook your head. You weren't even over him. "I don't hate you, I never did, Max. You're too amazing and important to me for that." You didn't even realize the words coming out of your mouth.

The words that led the blond to cup the back of your neck and pull you into a kiss. A kiss he'd been waiting almost 3 years for.

[hellcat8908]

Broken Home Azriel x Female Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, Azriel being an ass, Angst, Hurt

You were excited as Madja confirmed your suspicion. You were finally pregnant. After years of trying and tears every time your cycle came, you were finally going to start a family. "Congratulations, both of you." She says with a warm smile. You can't help but smile as you gently rest your hand on your stomach. "I'd estimate you're about 2 months along, give or take." She says before telling you she'll check on you next month, but not to hesitate to reach out to her with any concerns or questions. She takes her leave after congratulating you again.

"Isn't this wonderful, Az? We finally get to start a family." You say excitedly. "It's wonderful." He says before kissing you. You return the kiss before starting to list all the things you need to do to get ready. You gush about how excited you are to tell everyone. Azriel can't help but chuckle at your enthusiasm as he listens to you. You start talking about decorating the nursery and buying cute baby clothes. "Slow down, love. You're only two months pregnant. We have plenty of time for all that." He says before his smile suddenly drops and his brows furrow.

"Azriel, what's wrong? If Rhys thinks he's sending you away-" You're interrupted by Azriel, "How could you?!" He asks through clenched teeth, holding back his sudden anger. "How could I what?" You ask genuinely confused. "It's not mine!" He says angrily. Hurt flashes across your face as his words hit you. "What are you talking about? Of course it's yours. Who else could it be?!" You ask with raised voice. "2 months ago, I spent the majority of the time away! You seriously cheated on me?! After everything I've done for you, for us?!" He yells.

"I never cheated on you. How could you think that?!" You say as your eyes fill with tears. "How long were you planning to wait to tell me?" He asks insulted. "Azriel, I swear I never cheated on you! I love you!" His eyes darken as the anger inside him worsens, "I don't love you. We're done. Mating bond be damned." He says before storming out of the house. Your heart shatters as you protectively hold your stomach and sob. You curl up in the fetal position until you cry yourself to sleep.

Once you wake up and realize how late it is, it's obvious that Azriel isn't coming back. Anger suddenly replaces sadness as you start packing your things. You refuse to wait for Azriel to come to his senses if he ever will. Your baby needs you more than anything now that you're in this alone. A knock on the door pulls you from packing your clothes. You answer it, surprised to see Rhys and Feyre this late. "It's almost midnight. What are you two doing here?" You ask as you move to let them in. "Azriel told us everything." Rhys says softly.

"Of course he did. Tell him I'm going to find an apartment in the morning and then he'll have the house all to himself." You say angrily. "You don't need to find an apartment. We have plenty of room for you and the baby at the river house." Feyre offers. "I can't stay with you. I don't want to cause tension between you, and I need my own space where I don't have to worry about bumping into him." You say. "We'll still be friends, right?" Feyre asks nervously.

"Of course, nothing changes that. You and the rest of the inner circle are always welcome in my home." You say with a reassuring smile. "Azriel is an ass and will eventually realize how badly he screwed up." Rhys says. "Time will tell." You respond. "You know you're still welcome in our home, and don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything." Rhys says before offering you a hug. "Thank you for everything. If you don't mind, it's late and I have a lot to do tomorrow." You say. "Of course, take care of yourself and your little one." They say before leaving.

You go back to your room and lay in bed. Letting your emotions take over, losing all motivation to finish packing. You go over how the happiest day of your life turned into the worst. In this moment, you genuinely hated Azriel for putting you through this. "It's ok, peanut. We're going to be alright." You say reassuringly as you rub your stomach before drifting asleep, dreaming of what your little one will be like.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

You were able to secure a two bedroom apartment, and over the next few months, you got settled in. Cassian and Rhys helped to assemble the crib and bassinet for you while Feyre and Mor helped you pick out clothes and decor for the nursery. You were putting the finishing touches on the nursery when you were hit hard with a contraction, making you double over. Another one racked your body, and soon your water broke. You reached out for Rhys to get Madja telling him you were going into labor.

You managed to make it into bed and put on a loose-fitting robe. Soon, Madja came in, followed by Rhys. "I'm not due for another month." You say as Madja starts checking the progress of your labor. "Everything will be alright." Rhys says from beside you. "I'm going to do everything I can for you and the baby." Madja assures you before pulling Rhys aside. "You need to get Azriel. There is a chance she won't survive this. The baby has small wings I couldn't see before." Madja whispers to Rhys before coming back to you.

"What's wrong?!" You ask, knowing it can't be good. "Nothing you need to worry about. Just focus on delivering your baby." She says as she moves into position. Feyre comes in to stay with you as Rhys takes off towards the house of wind. Feyre holds your hand and reminds you to breathe. "You've comenso far, y/n. You're almost there." She says encouragingly. You give her your best smile, but insid, you're terrified. You want Azriel to be here, to be the one holding your hand and talking you through this. "I'm scared, Feyre." You admit for the first time.

Meanwhile, Rhys arrives at the house of wind and finds Azriel outside training. "Y/n is giving birth." Rhys tells him. "Why are you telling me? Go tell the real father." He practically spits, tired of talking about you and the baby. "Because you're the real father! Although you're a real ass for forcing her to do this alone for so long." Rhys says agrily. "She cheated on me, and I'm just supposed to pretend it never happened and that the child is mine?!" Azriel says.

"Today could very well be the day she dies! The baby has small wings that Madja couldn't see before, and y/n's body isn't meant to birth a child with wings!" Rhys shouts at his brother. Azriel's face pales at the news. "Now man up and go be there for her and your baby, because so far you've been a shit father." Rhys says before making his way back to your apartment. Azriel stands there stunned for a moment before taking off after Rhys.

"I need Azriel, I can't do this without him!" You say as your energy diminishes. "You have to push. Your baby needs you to push!" Madja says as Feyre dabs your forehead with a cool cloth while holding your hand. "I'm here, baby. I'm right here." Azriel says as he bursts into the room. "Az, I can't do this." You say as you cry. "Yes, you can. You will deliver our baby, and we're going to be a family." He says confidently. "You can do this, love." He assures you. "One more hard push, y/n. You're almost there." Madja says. You give it all you've got.

Tiny cries fill the room, and you ask Azriel how the baby looks. "She's perfect." He says as he admires your daughter. He turns his attention back to you and sees how pale you are. "I love you." You tell him before you lose consciousness and your body falls limp. "Y/n! Come on! Wake up!" He says in a panic as Madja orders Rhys to take him out of the room. Before handing Feyre the baby as she follows Rhys and Azriel out, leaving Madja to work.

Azriel holds your daughter, finding comfort in her tiny presence. He anxiously paces back and forth, wondering how you're doing. After seemingly hours, Madja comes out of the room, unable to say anything, for Azriel rushes in and finds you sleeping. "She's been through a lot and lost a lot of blood. She should wake up in a couple of hours, but she needs to stay in bed. She will be fine, though." Madja says. "Thank you." Azriel says as he blinks away tears. Madja makes her way out of the room, leaving Azriel alone with you and your daughter.

He looks down at the baby in his arms and notices the resemblance between himself and her. His tears fall freely as he realizes just how wrong he was and how he ruined everything. "I sure made a mess of things. Think Mommy will ever forgive me? Can't say I'd blame her if she didn't." He says as he watches her stretch in his arms. "Hopefully, you take after mommy more than your old man. I hope you have her kind heart and love." He says softly. Suddenly, she starts to fuss, sending Azriel into a panic as he's unsure of what to do.

"She's hungry." You say as you wake up to her fussing. Azriel brings her over to you and gently lays her in your arms. You carefully stroke her soft hair as she nurses quietly. "She needs a name." You say casually. "Do you have any picked out?" Azriel asks, a pang of guilt hitting him as he realizes what all he's missed out on. "I was thinking Addie." You say, watching forna reaction. "I think it's perfect." Azriel says, smiling at you and Addie.

"I never cheated on you." You say addressing the elephant in the room. You watch his shoulders slump. "I know, I was an ass for even thinking that you would've." He says. "Y/n, I'm so sorry. I left when you needed me, and I ruined what should've been the happiest day of our lives. I'm sorry I missed your entire pregnancy and wasn't there to support you like I should've been. I have a lot to make up for if you'll give me the chance." He says anxiously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No more leaving. If you're in this, you're in it for the long haul because that's what Addie deserves, and I'll accept nothing less." You tell him. "I'm not ever leaving you again, and I'll spend the rest of our lives making this up to you and showing you how truly sorry I am." He says. "Good. Now get over here and kiss me because I've missed you." You say with a small laugh, causing your stomach to hurt. "Easy, Madja says you are to rest until she says otherwise." Azriel says before leaning over and kissing you.