#queen band fan fic

[agirlwholovesrockstars]

need your loving tonight

☆AGATHA'S MASTERLIST☆

☆ EDDIE MUNSON'S MASTERLIST ☆

summary : Eddie is trying to make amends with you after he acted like an idiot to you but no matter how hard he tries, you wouldn't forgive him for his mistakes

word count : I hope this won't be too long 😭

warnings : 18+ MDNI Eddie Munson x FEM!reader, language, no use of y/n, Eddie and reader are both 20, EVENTUAL SMUT‼️, protected sex (as they should) Jason Carver I know I'm sorry 😖 Eddie being dumb at some points, reader might be too harsh with Eddie here, happy ending? will see 🙃

what to expect : lots of ANGST‼️ in the beginning but fluff in the end, friends to lovers

note to reader : VECNA & UPSIDE DOWN DON'T EXIST HERE! it would be nice to read that Eddie is begging for your forgiveness hehe

author note : I love Queen and this is my ultimate favorite song of all time never get tired of listening to it- if you haven't- MY GOD! SHAME ON YOU! 😤

He struggles not to get mad at you

He struggles not to get frustrated at you

He struggles not to hate on you

What happened?

Did he have done something wrong?

Hell

Hell yes, he did something wrong with you

"I'm so fucking dumb" he mumbles to himself

"What did you say?" Jeff says as he flips the next page of his comic book

The voice of his friend made his snap out of his thoughts while he's looking at you at the other side of the cafeteria

"uh- nothing" he clears his throat, straightens himself up and he averts his eyes away from you

Jeff looks up to his friend with critical eyes as he observes him, slowly putting his comic book down on the table, he turns around and he founds you there

"Ah" he chuckles shaking his head, he finally understands the situation

Eddie catches this and he questions him "Excuse me?"

"Make it up to her, man" Gareth says as he takes a sip from his canned Coke

He swings his head over to his other friend, confusion expression sitting on his face clearly

"Woo her" Dustin added while he's writing on his science notebook

Eddie quickly shuts his eyes as he responds "Was I too obvious for thinking about her too much?"

"Stop moping around and talk to her!" Lucas leans in, his tone is serious making Eddie nodding taking his words carefully

"The more you don't try to fix, the more she'll gets angry at you, been there done that" Mike raising his hands up as he tries to forget the idiot things that he did to Jane

"What the hell- did you to her this time, Munson?"

All of them turn their heads at the other voice, it's standing right there next to Eddie looking at him down with a stern look on his face

The look is not threatening but Eddie can see it that he genuinely cares

Eddie just lifts his head up to see the man standing beside him and he can see the guilty and sadness on his eyes

He sighs "I don't know anymore, dude...." He trails off

"He probably done something asshole to her girl" Jeff fills him up

Eddie looks at him with wide eyes and then turns to a pointed look

"I-I'm sorry, man, it's the truth!" Jeff surrenders

He shook his head as he leans his back against his seat

Eddie's eyes always goes back at you for everytime he tries to rethink and remember those past few weeks before you chose to ignore him

It's been 3 weeks

It almost looks like he doesn't even exist to you

He should've known, a girl like you who got a heart of gold, nicest soul

Could turn into something else that he never expected to happen

You became mean, hateful, rude, impolite to him

The only time he sees you smiling and laughing so sweetly is when you're not close to him

But whenever your eyes falls to him, it changes into anger, it flashes to him so sharply that he can feel your gaze stabbing into him

He knows he deserves it for treating you this way

And my god, both of you have been bestfriends for years and he never thought this day would come

The day he will never ever forget is that you despise him, every bit of him irritates into your core

He can't blame you, you've been together since elementary, he knows how much you give your whole heart to someone you love

And then he just chose to fucking mess things up

"Answer me, Munson"

he puts his food tray on the table, it made Eddie flinch a little, he goes straight back into reality again

"What's going on between you and her?"

Eddie breathes from his nose deeply, he looks down shamefully

"You can still bring her back, you know, it's not too late"

"How can I ever talk to her if she doesn't give me a chance?!" Eddie finally speaks throwing his hands up while stealing a glance at you

You're staring at him coldly

Eddie can't even look at you like that for long giving him that icy glare

The man beside Eddie gave a gesture to Jeff and Gareth to scoot over on the side so he will have a seat next to Eddie

Eddie rubs his face, he's stressing out, his friend can see that

"It's not the right time to give me advices, Harrington"

"Look, dude, I just wanted to help you, if you lose her you're going to regret it, believe me"

Eddie stare at him for a second, he nods along for him to continue

"What did you do that might upset her?" Steve tries to look at his friends eyes

The whole crew looks at him directly, awaiting for his answer

Eddie swallows he knows he's gonna get scolded from his friends and if Wayne knew about this

He's a fucking dead man

"b-before the 3 weeks happened, we h-hang a lot like the usual a-and then I-I think she gives so many hints that s-she liked me and I thought she's j-just expressing her l-love to me as a f-friend and then few days later it feels like she's n-not the same anymore until s-she finally let it all out that she h-has feelings for me"

"and then what happened?" Mike asks

"She told me she w-was fine, she'll be in t-touch with me until I received a letter from her, I'm still confused and I don't know what she meant about it, I reread it like a million times and I think-"

"you think what?" Lucas cuts him off

"She d-doesn't want to be with me a-anymore" Eddie said the last line like he was holding his breath, he breathes out shakily

"Well, that sucked" Gareth saids while Jeff nudges him in the stomach as he gestures to be sympathetic for his friend for a moment

Steve facepalmed for a second as he tries to think of something

"What did you do after she..." Dustin glances at you before he continues "confessed to you?"

"Here's the thing, Henderson" your voice goes behind his back making Eddie tense up at the fury anger coming out from your voice

All of the boys stare at you like they've been caught

"He fucking acted like our friendship together didn't exist and let me guess he told you I was the one who got cold right?"

All of them nod and then they scrunch their faces up making it harder for Eddie

You laugh in disbelief "What y'all boys didn't know right after I confessed at him, he just acted like it was nothing, he just go on day by day like nothing happened, just like that" you shrugged

You lean down close to him, his breath hitches being you this close to him while you're in rage

"He expects me to be like?!? Do the same shit that he did?!? No fucking way" you whisper on his ear and he squeezes his eyes shut

All of the boys are intimidated seeing you like this

They're used to see you being so lovely and fun like Eddie

But now, they get it, why Eddie can't just talk you out of it

"That's why I wrote him a farewell letter to end my misery and his misery because I'm such a good person" you say the last word clutching to your heart sarcastically and smiling

Your forced smile drops, you say one more thing before you leave "Even though he doesn't deserve it" you scoffed at him while you look at him up and down

He pushed his seat back running after you

You ignore him calling out for you until he finally reaches your hand you turn around

You slapped him across his face making the other students gasped and you don't even care if the other students having prying eyes on you and him

"Oh shit!" Dustin exclaimed

The whole gang stand up from their seats, jaws are dropped and shocked as they watch the scene unfolds

There's a bit of regret of what you just did to him but you can't help it, you're just so mad at him for invalidating your feelings and you hate that you got rejected at your most beloved and important person in your whole life

You wished that you didn't confessed at him, if only you knew that this is going to happen

But it already did so.... you'll just hop in onto the fire and burn and live through the chaos of your emotions

"Don't you try to touch me again, we're through" your eyes became glossy but Eddie knew that's how you get angry

You rip his hands off from you as he watches you disappear in the cafeteria

Angry tears coming out from you eyes and he hates that he's the cause of it

He only sees that if you're having problems at your life and now he's the part of it

He hates himself for it, for letting this happen

If only he wasn't so dumb about it, this wouldn't happen

He is making this hard for you, he doesn't even know where to start

He's tearing up, half of his face burning up from the slap that you gave him, it turns to a bright red color from his cheek

All of his friends goes after him, giving him a pat behind his back

Jeff and Gareth both saying in unison "Are you okay?" he just nods weakly and he sniffles

"Now all of you believe me?" He told them referring to the question earlier "just talk to her"

"I believe you, man" Steve sighs and he gives a small smile to his friend

It's been a month ever since you slapped him

Eddie's eyes still longing on for you everytime you brush past by him

He's trying to look into your eyes and tell you that he's sorry

"I think you're too hard on him" Robin says as she offers you a cherry lollipop, you grab it and unwrapped it and you stick it out to your mouth

You watch Eddie with his friends cheering for another successful D&D meeting

Your heart aches at the sight of it, you should've been there if it wasn't for the unfortunate events that happened

Even his friends are in celebration, you can see his eyes and his smile not reaching to his ears, he is not happy because you're not there

"I think you might be right" you remove the lollipop from your mouth

Robin's voice is muffled from the lollipop as she darts her eyes to you and to him "What- wait- how's so?"

"He isn't like the kind of trying to get my attention, he stopped doing that"

Robin smirks "You miss him, don't you?"

You huffed and chuckled "There's no shame in that, and you know it, Robs, yeah I do miss him" you admit unashamedly as you popped the lollipop back in your mouth

She gives you a empathetic smile

"Why don't you try to talk to him? Maybe he is truly sorry for what he has done"

You stare at her, This is the only time you let your walls down, Robin can see that you're also longing for him

You're just wearing this facade of yours so don't that he can't see how you truly hurt

At least that's what you think

Eddie knows it and you know that he can see right through you

You gave your friend a warm smile "I'll think about it"

"I just wanted for the both of you to be happy, I don't want you guys end up giving each other's cold and hatred remarks when they can be together again" she says as she puts her hands on her pockets

You nod at her, you're now thinking deeply about it

Eddie decided to ignore you or maybe if possible, forget about you

He gets even more scared of the letter you gave him that haunts him til' his day

He'll have to learn to forgive and forget

Which is impossible

He goes out looking strong but whenever he saw you, all of his courage to not acknowledging your existence just quickly fades away

He can't sleep either, he just keeps rolling around his bed all night, he can't stop thinking about you, he doesn't even know how he can get rest enough for the next day

His body aches and he stopped trying to get talk to you, he doesn't want to argue with you anymore, he's exhausted, he knows how will end up

Another slap from his face

He groans and goes back to his previous bed position as he throws a pillow on top of his head

He knows what you need, you need space, but he's trying his best to stay away from you he can't remove himself out of you that easy

He got even more mad when he saw you talking to another guy at school

Eddie can't deny his looks, the guy is good looking, maybe he's one of the popular guys at school judging by the way he dresses

His eyes turn to jealousy, his jaw clenches when you giggled about the guy was saying to you

He furrow his brows, he's the only one who can make you laugh like that, his heart drops of what the future might be

He would rather die seeing you holding hands with another man when he must've been the one with you on his side

He'll eat his heart out on how much he loves you

Eddie walked inside of the men's restroom

"It's a good thing you let her go, man"

Eddie raises his head looking for the familiar voice in the room, he rolled his eyes when he finally see him

It's Jason fucking Carver

Until he freezes, he can't recognize him because of the dim lights but his posture and his mannerisms

It's him, he's the guy that he saw with you

He is now simmering with anger, he knows guys like Jason just get girls and leaving them after they got what they wanted like they're pieces of trash

"Just get the hell away from me, dude" he spits out

He laughs darkly "I'm giving you a piece of advice, freak"

He gives him a daggering stare at him, a warning

"Girls like her, are too much of a work, they think a lot, they're unstable and hell, too fucking sensitive"

He shakes his head at his words and scoffs, he goes by the sink and wash his hands

Jason follows suit and he leans his back as he continues to talk

"You should get yourself a girl who doesn't have anything like her, just by one look she knows what you needed"

The faucet keeps running, he pauses, he knows exactly what he mean by that and that alone just pisses him off

Jason flinches at Eddie's action by holding him up by his collar pining him behind the wall

"I don't want any girl, Jason, I only want her, I am not like you breaking every girl's heart in Hawkins High, you're full of shit!" He punches him causing him to open the men's door

Throwing Jason in the process on the floor, making every student halt their tracks as they watch the scene, Jason can't even give a fist to Eddie

Eddie grabbed Jason again by his collar as he give him 2 blowing hard punches on his face, making him bloody enough to not speak to him ever again

"Next time, Carver, I hope this will mark that you won't fucking talk to my girl that way" he pushes him down, Jason weakly nods and he grunts while he slowly crawls away from him

It's like the universe is helping you to get back together, he turned around to see you standing there

It's the only time he is seeing you not giving him any cold shoulder instead he sees shock, pity, and hopeful?

He blinks and stares at you for a bit, he turned his heels and walked away

You tried to follow him, you sigh of what you just witnessed

"Another suspension again, son?" Wayne asks as he pours himself a cup of coffee as he glances at his nephew, washing the remnants of blood from his fists, it appears to be bruised from the punch

"Yeah, I blew Carver's face off" he plainly said

Wayne almost choked from his coffee, he clears his throat

"Pardon?"

He turn around to face him "I punched him after he talked shit to my girl"

He says it all at once, he realized of what he has done, he slowly looks up from his uncle who is now staring at him with a smug on his face

"Your girl huh?" He places his newspaper down on the coffee table

He sighs in exasperation "Who am I kidding? Why am I jealous, she's not even mine"

Wayne's smug smile falls as he stands up goes over to his nephew, joining him on the couch

"Tell me, what happened, son?"

Wayne already knew to what he has done with you, of course he's upset about it, Wayne likes you so much that he treats you normally like you're a part of his family

You can also feel it whenever you spend your time at their trailer, Even Wayne doesn't say it he's not much of a big talker but it just feels natural, it's home and that added more to your pain

"She saw everything that I made a scene, I turned around and saw her there standing, I thought I'm going to receive the same glares but-" he pauses as he shifts from his seat

He looked at the framed photograph of you and him on the top shelf, both arms hanging around on each other's shoulders, his heart beats fast when he looked at your beautiful smile, he misses seeing that smile of yours

"But?" Wayne says as he puts his hand over his knee

"She doesn't do it anymore, what does it mean? Does that mean she's not a-angry at me anymore?"

Wayne is proud of himself, he taught him well, a true gentleman like he is

Except for the idiot part, that's on him

"I think she's giving you a second chance"

Eddie looked at him, he grows nervous about it

"And by that chance, boy, don't ever waste it" he points at him giving him a pointed look

Eddie nods at his uncle as he throws his head on the sofa

This is it, you're giving him a chance, he is still certain that he wants you, he will do anything to make things go back to normal

The question is.... Do you still want him? or you just wanted reconciliation from him?

Tuesday, The Hideout, Eddie is there

Forest Park Hills, you arrived at 7pm

There's so many memories that you and Eddie created in his home, just by looking at it, makes you wanna sob about it

You knocked on the door and saw Wayne standing in there

His eyes shines in delight, the moment he sees you, he has the same grin that you always loved with Eddie

He hugs you that you gladly accept

"Oh! It's you! how wonderful to see you again"

"I'm very happy to see you too, Wayne"

He pulls back and invites you inside "Come on in"

"Where's-"

"He'll be back-"

"After 11pm, yeah I know" you chuckled slightly

He goes straight into the kitchen and offers you a cup of coffee that you always liked and thank goodness he has a box of butter croissant and that he bought after his salary, a treat for him and his nephew

"Thank you" you say softly

"Why'd you come here? Not that I don't mind you coming in here everytime you want"

You're chewing on the flaky pastry "I-I felt bad for him for what I did to him"

He nods as he listens to you carefully

"He deserves to know the all of the answers that he's been dying to know"

You reach out for your mug shakily, you drink it

You can't hold back the tears anymore, you put down your mug before you can break it

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Don't apologize, it's okay" Wayne didn't waste time to hold your hand

You calm down for a bit as you exhale slowly

"I think he learned his lesson"

"W-What do you mean?"

"One time, he told me, he had an idea, he will be on his knees, begging for you, for mercy and ask for forgiveness"

You bursted out laughing as he laughs as well with you

"I embarrassed him, enough, Wayne, I slapped him in the cafeteria, last month"

"You- did what?" His hold on you drops as he places over his hips

You winced at of what you just did "Oh shoot, he's been through, already, Wayne, don't tell me you're going to reprimand him about it, I thought you knew"

He chuckles "He will be, if he loses this last chance"

You smile at him shyly, Wayne knew that you and Eddie had a thing for each other, both of you are just afraid, until one of you finally speaks up and turns into heartache

"I always knew, even my boy doesn't go fully into details but I know what's going on"

"Thanks, Wayne"

He never fails to make you laugh, you always feel safe whenever you're with the Munson's, he radiates the same energy like his uncle

"No, Thank you for making my dear boy happy, I don't trust that school aside from you and his friends, he got a lot of hard times on his life and I thought I would never see him this way, the moment you existed, I just know he'll be okay"

You gave him a heartwarming smile, you sniffled

For what Wayne just said, you know everything will work out just fine

While putting away the music equipments

Jeff looking at his friend, he doesn't want to meddle with his plans but he cares for his friend he just wanted to know

"Do you think you can still have her?" He asks

Eddie has this weird gut that's been going on all night, he doesn't know if it's bad or not

"I think so"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, man" he smiles genuinely and just like that his friend knew he'll be alright

"Good for you, man, I'm happy for you" he holds him by the shoulders

"Just don't do anything stupid to her this time" Gareth walks past by them while holding a big speaker

Jeff calls him out for being too hard on the words that he's giving to Eddie, he just laughs as he says "Got that!" he loves that for Gareth for being real and just speaking the truth

He is thankful for having friends like them

Eddie came home, he is in a state of shock to see you in there, laying on the couch, asleep, with his blanket

"I'm off to work, son" Wayne says as he swings his bag over to his shoulder

Before he exits, he says "You want her?"

"Yes"

"You want her back in your life?"

"Yes!"

"Then fight for her, boy" he says, he gives him an encouraging smile, he leaves while closing the door on his way

Eddie puts his beloved guitar down and places it on the side of the room to where it's safe

He crouch down to look at your face, even you're sleeping, you're so mesmerizing to look at, he missed looking at your pretty face

He watches as your chest rise and up and down, his eyes widens when he recognized the shirt that you're wearing

It's a gift that he gave to you last Christmas, his favorite Metallica bandshirt, you're wearing black leggings and a black cardigan

He can't help himself that he reaches out to touch your face and he caresses it

You stir up and your eyes flutter open and it lands on your sweet lover

"Hey"

"Hi" you rise up and sit down as you scoot over to offer him a seat

He goes under the blankets as well

You yawn and Eddie thinks it's the most cutest thing he ever seen

You rub your eyes as you looked around "Wayne?"

"Uh- he left just recently"

"Oh"

You both sat together in comfortable silence

"I'm sorry" you both turned your heads around at the same time, both saying the same thing in unison

Causing the both of you to laugh, he wheezes

After trying to calm down from your laughter

"I miss you, Eddie"

"I missed you too, sweetheart, so much"

You don't want to spoil the moment but you had to "I don't like that you keep leading me on, building up my feelings and just leave me there hanging, after I confessed my true feelings with you and you acted like it was a joke, it hurt me a lot"

"I know and I am so sorry like truly, I am, if only I go back I would've done better but I didn't"

He moves even closer to you and he can't believe that you let him hold your hand

"I regret it everyday, I hate that I was the cause of your pain, I can't sleep at night thinking about you"

You looked into his eyes, holy shit, he is telling you the truth

"I love you" There's no ounce of dishonest, zero hesitation on his voice

You gasp "That's all I ever wanted to hear"

He closed the gap between the two of you, he slammed his lips onto yours

You kissed him back, both heavily breathing, he smiles into the kiss as he swipes his tongue onto you, you sigh in content as you throw your arms around him, holding the back of his head as he deepens the kiss, you moaned

Until your back is laying flat down on the couch as you both continue to make out

It's the kiss that you always wanted and it's everything

He pulled back "Am I forgiven?" He knits his eyebrows together

"You sure are" you smiled back at him as you pull him by the collar, you kiss him passionately

Eddie might cry, the gut that he was feeling earlier was a good sign

You sat on his lap, he puts his arms around your waist, breathing your scent like it adds to his lifespan, you frown at the bruise from his knuckles

He seethed when you rub your thumb over it "I'm sorry" you whispered

"You really meant it, don't you?"

"Was me drawing blood, isn't enough for you?"

You snorted, you move your body to face him, you're now straddling him

"There's one more thing, though"

"Yes, anything for you, darling" he says as he drew circles on your forearm

"You need to prove it to me" you start grinding on him slowly, he hums, as he looks at you from up and down, he took the hint clearly

You yelped when he carries you putting you down on his bed

"Please, go easy on me, I'm fragile" you say coyly

He chortled "Look, honey, I don't want to rush-"

"Are you gonna do it or spend your rest of your life that I am not yours?" You say bitterly rolling your eyes in the process

"Fuck- ah shit! Of course, I don't want that!"

"Then fucking just do it!"

He pulls you down causing you to squeal from his action making him laugh devilishly

It makes your thighs clench, he saw it and he looks up to you "Didn't know I had a effect on you like that"

You're about to slap him again until he grabs it and puts it down

"I don't think so sweetheart, not this time"

It's the first time you got alarmed from his action, it turns you on

He leans down to whisper behind your ear "I'm the boss here"

He removes your leggings with your underwear at the same time, he removes his shirt and his pants

His eyes grow lustfully as he sees your cunt, so wet for him and only just for him

He puts his hands over your knees, to open wide for him, you shiver under his touch

You reach down at the hem of your shirt, he stops you

"Let me do it, sweet thing" he winks at you

His hand goes behind your back to unclip your bra and remove it

"Oh my gosh" he places his hand over his mouth as he looks at you, admiring your naked body

You became bashful on his gaze, you tried to cover yourself

"I'm so lucky, goddamn!" He exaggerates the last line making you giggle

As he reaches on the drawer, he pulls his boxers down, you saw the length, it's big

Your mouth became dry

"Are you still up for this, sweetheart?"

You nod at him

"I only accept verbal answers, baby"

"Yes, Eddie, I'm ready"

"I'm gonna to take care of you, just tell me if it hurts, I'll stop"

"Okay"

He distracts you from kissing you, your forehead crumples up

"Too much?"

"I can take it, hold on"

"Just relax, angel"

The moment he fills you up, you're so fuck drunk in the feeling, you can't even register that he's inside of you

He holds your hip and raises one leg as he thrusts into you slowly

You whimpered and he is so fuck drunk like as you do, your pussy squelches in the most sinful things sound ever

"Stop clenching, I won't last long" he grunts

Your eyes are heavy-lidded, you run down your hands on his chest as you copy his thrusts making him groan

"Faster, Eddie, please move"

"I got you"

He places both of your legs around his waist, he holds both of your hands as he fucks you speedily

You wrap your legs around him tightly bringing him deeper, making you moan even harder

He flushes down on you, he nuzzles over your shoulder, you wrap your arms around him, you both moan at the sweet sensation

"Wait- Eddie- d-don't stop!" Your moans turn into high pitched screams

You used your last energy to bring him around so you're place on top of him, he gasps as his face contorts into pleasure

"I-I love you so much, E-Eddie" you moan as you grind him

Eddie watches as your pussy devours his cock gliding down smoothly like it was made just for him making him buckle his hips

You arch your back and your head falls down on the side, as you continue to ride him, cheeks are flushed, your eyes are closed can't hold them longer enough, you're so lost in the feeling

Eddie sits up as he holds you close, both burning bodies with so much ecstacy feeling both of your minds, both panting, a bit sweaty for getting all worked up

You kept saying his name "Oh- Eddie- Eddie- Eddie- ah"

"I- l-love you more, sweetheart, y-you're the best thing that is ever happened t-to me, holy shit, baby" he cusses on how good you feel

Making you clench and he groans, you smile to him lazily

He pulled you even more close causing your moans into scream, you grind him so fast, he holds your hips placing your legs around him, he squeezes your breasts, he plays with your clit, making you moan even louder

You start bouncing on top of him as you remove the pieces of his hair on his face

"My p-pretty boy" you say, biting down the another wave arousal coming in

"M-my pretty g-girl" he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, he says as he holds you tight your legs are trembling, you shout his name as you both came undone

You kissed his cheek as you bring your arms around him, he is still holding you, he kisses your shoulder

"That was awesome"

There he is, the boy that you always loved, he is always unserious

You laughed, your laughing body shakes as you hide your face on his neck, you pulled back

Admiring his tattoos, he smiles down at you

Once you calmed down, he peels himself out of you, you winced at it a little, everytime he tries to pulls out slowly and carefully he says sorry, he takes care of you

He cleaned you up and helped you get dressed

He opens his cabinet, he grab a clean boxers and a pair of DIO bandshirt

He settle for his blue striped pajama pants, he stays shirtless

He says he'll be at the kitchen getting a glass of water, he offers you and you said yes

He has that silly smile again, you missed seeing that

None of that matters anymore, the important is that at the end, you're still together

You noticed a familiar polaroid picture on his bedside table, you reach for it and it reveals

It's you and him together celebrating your 20th birthday, you recognized his handwrite on the bottom, it says

"My best girl, ♡"

Your eyes are now brimmed with threatening tears to spill for any moment

"Here you go-" he stops as he sees what you're holding

"You kept it?" Your tears fall into tears of joy

He shows you a warm smile, he hand out the glass of water and you drank it, he kisses your forehead as he places the glass on the beside table

"I always kept everything that remind me of you"

Your heart flutters to what he just said, you hug him tighter making him shocked but he recovers as he realizes your muffled cries on his chest, he felt the tears that goes down

He pulled back to look at you "W-What's wrong?"

"I don't wanna lose you, Eddie, I want you forever in my life, I'm so sorry for acting like that"

"Hey, you have the every right to act that way, you have to right to be angry with me because what I did is absolutely unforgivable"

You hiccuped and he shushes you as he pulls your closer

"You didn't lose me, sweetheart"

You raise your head up to look at him, your ears are open for what he has to answer

"You save me again, I didn't stop loving you and I don't think that I never will"

His swipes the tears using his thumb, you hold him from his wrists as you say "I also don't think I could never love on another person again unless it's you"

It's his turn to cry in front of you "That is the most extraordinary thing that I ever heard"

You smiled at him as you kiss him

Eddie woke up with you laying on his shoulder, on his bed and the brightness outside, making him eyes shut again

Your arms are laying on top of his stomach afraid that he might disappear from you

The scent of the air is your sweet bergamot lavender perfume, your shampoo now lingers on his bedroom sheets, he smiles down at you kissing you on the top of your head

Eddie overheard the front door opens, he heard him removing heavy boots as he anticipates for his uncle to peek on the slightly opened door

Wayne looks over he sees his nephew already staring at him as his eyes falls on you asleep, he slowly opens the door wide making the door creak

Wayne manages to give his nephew a thumbs up causing Eddie to bite back a giggle, he freezes when you start waking up

"Goodmorning, sunshine"

"Morning, Eddie my love"

"I would never get tired hearing you say things like that"

He leans in to give you a kiss but you pulled back, he got confused "What?"

"I just got woke up and I have bad morning breath" your voice is hoarse from the sleep

He tuts "I don't care" he ignores your protest as he kisses you and you melt with it

"Hey kids, do you want me to join for breakfast? My treat?"

Wayne calls out to the both of you and you jumped at his voice, making Eddie laugh while holding on his chest

"Sure, Wayne, we'll be right there!"

You didn't remove the clothes that you wore last night, instead you eye his red checkered flannel that you always loved, you wear it fond smile coming from your lips

He wore his muscle tee black shirt and wore his another pair of sweatpants

"What do you say, sweetheart? Pancakes or Waffles?"

You laugh at the memory, you feel all bubbly inside, you washed your face and dried it with a clean towel

You brush your hair as you put on a cherry lipbalm

You walked towards him "You always end up getting the same thing" as you watch him putting a silver chain on his neck as he sprays his musk cologne on him, the scent that you always liked

"You always loved Pancakes" you placed your arms above his shoulder

"You always loved Waffles" he tilt his head onto the side as he leans down to kiss you again

"I'd say it's a date" he flashes you a cheeky smile

"It's perfect" he opens the door for you as he hugs you from behind

You, Eddie and Wayne ate happily at Benny's

Eddie always gives you a generous piece of his favorite waffle even you don't ask him to do it

The morning feels vibey and a new beginning, you take in the fresh of nice air

You rest your head on his shoulder as he does the same

You're both finally at peace and happiness once again and this time, you both know, nothing will ever comes between the two of you

🎶Ooh, I need your loving, oooh I need your loving, Ooh I need your loving tonight🎶

here's a lil' sequel of this cuties together again <3 "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy"

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

Hormones - Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader FanFiction

Summary/AN: I initially intended this to be smut or implied smut, but it came out rather fluffy. I might write a part two if people are interested. The reader is horny and on her period, and has something to share with Roger.

Warnings: mention of periods and pregnancy (non-descrip.), sexual innuendos, etc. Mainly fluff.

Word count: Aprox. 700

Only four months into your relationship you had a pregnancy scare with Roger. Luckily, it was just your period acting up due to stress, but you still decided to go on birth control. Birth control is more acceptable these days, so you were able to get prescribed it rather easily.

Your doctor said, if you’re lucky your period will stop completely. You still got yours but the pill helped regulate your cramps and lowered your flow a bit. You still had horrendous mood swings. Whenever you were in your period you would get insanely horny as well. Hormones are hormones, what would you expect?

You got your monthly yesterday and let Roger know. He always seems a little bummed when you get it, partly because that meant most sexual things were off the table, but also because it pained him to see you in pain.

Roger was sat on the couch, T.V. on a low volume as he flips through a magazine. “These reporters are rubbish. They aren’t reporting anything!” he scowled as he read through the article about the band.

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving his cheek a quick peck. “Whatcha doing?” you ask, and Roger tosses the magazine away.

“Just reading complete and utter lies,” he mumbles, giving the magazine a side eye. He brushes off the ill feelings about the article and turns his head to meet yours, quickly kissing your lips.

“What’s up?” he asks, and you smile. “Nothing much,” you explain. You find your way around the couch and land in Roger lap.

“I know you’re in your period, Y/N,” he says. “You know how I feel about that stuff.” Roger wasn’t entirely grossed out by menstruation, but he felt that you should be taken care of and rest while on your period, not handled like some one night stand.

“Okay, Mr. Jumping-to-conclusion,” you huff. Roger rolls his eyes with a smile. “I’m not saying that you had that intention, but you know how riled up I get when you sit on my lap like this,”

He was right. If you were him, you wouldn’t be able to resist when you had a breathtaking girl straddling your hips who wouldn’t hesitate to start grinding on you at any moment.

You shrug. “Well sorry that I want to show my beautiful boyfriend some love and affection,” you say, crossing your arms in a dramatic way, and Roger laughs. “Don’t be like that,” he chuckled, giving you a kiss which breaks you out of your bit.

“What can I help you with, love?” he asks. You wrap your arms around his neck again, gently gazing into his.

“I want to have a baby,”

Rogers' soft gaze turns wide. “Y-you want to have a baby?” he stammers his words as he confirms your question. You nod and your smile slowly fades. “Do you not want one?” you ask. Roger quickly shakes his head. “No, no. Of course I want a baby. I’d love to have a baby,” his hands slowly move down to your stomach where your child would be resting. “I just- got caught off guard,” he explains.

You smile at his hands on your stomach, imagining you round with his child. “I want your baby.”

“Is this because you’re horny?” he questions. “Maybe,” you say. “But who says a baby has to be made out of pure, non-sexual love, and not lust?”

Roger nods at your point. “Well you’re going to have to stop taking your pills if you’re serious about this,” he explains. “I’m serious,” you tell him.

You've been thinking about this for a long time, actually. Even before you began dating you imagined yourself round with Rogers child, and his strong arms wrapped around to cup your stomach.

His lips suddenly crash with yours. He smiled against the kiss, humming as his hands moved up to grip your hair lovingly. You breathlessly part from the kiss. Roger leans his forehead against yours. “We’re gonna have a baby…” he whispers, and you smile. “Mhm…” you hum as his hands gently hold the non-existence fetus in your stomach. “You’re gonna be the best daddy there ever was…”

You hear a small snicker from Roger. “Trying to get me even more riled up?” he jokes. You hit his shoulder and laugh. “Shut up,” you say. He grins and gives you another kiss. “And you’re going to be the best mommy in the world, I promise…”

[rogertaylorshbb]

"poor thing" roger Taylor fanfic

sorry I haven't written in 10 days, just been busy with school!! i hope you enjoy this, it was inspired by a photo I saw on tumblr of roger pouring milk for a cat.

you sat down with your favorite magazine on a lazy Sunday. you finally got to relax after all the running around you did all week. you opened the magazine when you heard something. "meowww" a quiet meow called out from your left. you turned your head looking for the cat that was making the sound but your eyes saw nothing.

your head then slowly went down to your magazine, then again you heard the meow, you looked saw nothing, then again, then again, then again. the 6th time you heard the meow you snapped.

"where the fuck is that coming from" you whispered annoyingly shutting your magazine. you got up a glanced outside and that's when you saw the cat. the poor little cat had its paw stuck in a crack on the fence.

"awwww, poor little thing" you said walking over to the cat. you began to very slowly pull the cats paw out. it hissed but you eventually got it out. the cat must of had a good feel about you and started to purr at you.

"what's all that racket y/n!" roger called out walking outside. he looked at you and smiled, "y/n, before you ask, we are not keeping it"

you had a look of disappointment on your face, you were gonna ask him that but then again it probably wasn't a great idea. "roger is mean" you said in a baby voice to that cat "no mean roger" you laughed putting on a pout face. "shut up" he chuckled going back inside to watch television.

you picked up the cat and carried it inside, you then had a look at its paw, wasn't anything major, just a small scrap. you cleaned it up which the cat didn't at all like. you knew that cleaning it up still wasn't gonna heal it so you were gonna take it to the shelter.

you carried the cat in your arms over to were roger was sitting. "hey rog" you giggled with the cat in your arms.

roger rolled his eyes "I'm trying to watch the ascent of man, y/n please get that cat away" "meanie" you whispered to the cat.

"well I need to ask a big favor, I'm just gonna head out for 5 minutes-"

"y/n c'mon" he interrupted

"just listen, just 5 minutes, I need to get balloons for Freddie's birthday, john asked me, ill be back i promise, I need you to hold the cat, she's hurt" you explained.

he rolled his eyes and picked up the cat with a disgusting face, placing it down on his lap. you then grabbed your keys and ran out.

*20 minutes later*

you had taken longer then you expected, but picking out the color was hard, you felt as if you had to pick everyone, you eventually just went for the yellow. you opened the door and turned to rogers chair where he watched the tv. he wasn't there, so where else could he be. you then walked in to the kitchen to see something that made you giggle.

you witnessed roger patting and pouring milk into the bowl for the cat, smiling to himself. "roger" you said. he jumped. "uhhhhh, I'm just- I'm just- the cat was being annoying so I-" he stuttered

"just admit you like the cat rog" you chuckled throwing the balloons on the table coming to bend down next to him.

I know this a bit shorter then the ones i normally write, sorry, but I'm planning on writing a long one on Friday!! hope you like this cute short one.

@sarcastic-sourwolf

[freddie-mercury-rising]

A picture is worth a thousand words. So, let's allow some photos to inspire us!

The premise of this collection is to take photographs of Queen (Et al.) and use them as a starting-off point for creativity. Whether a photo inspires you to write a drabble, a ficlet, a vignette, a poem, a multi-chapter fic, a dialogue, a screenplay, etc. or to draw, sketch, or paint, then feel free to post the photograph that inspired you along with your creation into this collection.

The goal is to inspire each another to create!

[sokkas-first-fangirl]

Do you ever see yourself returning to your Queen fanfics?

No, afraid not. I’ve no intention of returning to those fics

[ducksoup17]

rb for larger sample size if you can <33

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

Can I request a fluffy John Deacon x fem. reader long fic where it’s Christmas Eve and John surprises reader with a present and when reader opens it, it’s a velvet box and when reader looks inside it turns out to be a ring and John takes it from her and gets down on one knee and goes into this speech about how much he loves her and that when he met her it was love at first sight and he asks reader to marry him?

Yess! so cute!

CHRISTMAS SURPRISES

pairings: John Deacon x Fem!reader summary: ^^^^ warnings: too cute

"hey, I got you something" Your boyfriend of 5 years, John said walking down the stairs with a wrapped box in his hand

"well put it under the tree then" you smiled at him as he sat down next to you on the couch.

it was a cold night and the fireplace was on, warming you up as you drank hot chocolate.

"just open it" he held it out for you to take

"but it's not christmas yet, that's tomorrow, can't it wait only a few more hours?" you leaned into him resting your head on his chest, hearing his heart race, so fast you would've thought he ran a marathon. it made you wonder why

"no it can't" he stated

you put your hot chocolate on the coffee table and leaned back into him, taking the box from him, you looked at him and raised an eyebrow

"what is it?" you asked him

"I'm not gonna tell you, that would ruin the surprise" he rolled his eyes

as you ripped the wrapping paper of the box, John leaned forward and took a sip of your drink, trying to hide his nervous face as you opened his gift.

you opened the box to see another, smaller box inside. You pulled the box out and looked at it. the pretty red velvet box you held in your hand made your smile.

it hadn't been the first time he's given you a box like that, only a few months prior he gave you a similar box with a necklace inside, and a year before was a pair of earrings.

"you give me too much of these, i practically have a whole draw of similar boxes" you joked with a giggle, he didn't look as amused as you though, his face held something different.

your smile faltered as you noticed his uncomfortable state

you looked at the box and became confused, it made you wonder...

you opened the box slowly and looked at it intently, a beautiful ring, decorated with the prettiest of diamonds was staring right backup at you

you looked up at John and a lump formed in your throat, he slowly took the box off you and got off the couch, making his way down on one of his knees.

it's that type of ring.

you body begun to feel hot and your vision went blurry

"John-" you start to say

"can you let me talk sweetheart?" he managed to smile shyly

"sorry" you apologised, sitting up and grabbed onto the blanket covering your legs

"you are- the best the that has ever happened to me, and I love you with all my heart, you make me want to be a better person and I am forever grateful for you. I have never wanted anything more than I want you, and it's been that way since we met- at the bar"

--

"I'm going to talk to her" roger said to the bored John.

Roger had dragged John to a bar, telling him he needed to put himself out there.

"you go do that" John sighed.

Roger had been staring at a girl sitting at a table on the other side of the room. she sat there talking to her friend who seemed uncomfortable to be there

"but I can't just go and take her away from her friend"

"look Roger, I think I might just leave-"

"you have to come with me" Roger pulled John up from his seat and made his way to their table with John trailing behind

"hey ladies!" Roger greeted joyfully

"hey" the girl said, looking up at the Roger and John hiding behind him

"need a drink?"

after a while, Roger and the girl were practically on top of each other on the other side of the booth, leaving John sitting awkwardly next to a girl he doesn't know the name of.

"what do you say we get out of here?" Roger suggested to crystal.

"yeah sure!"

they leave their seats and begin gathering their things

"wait no- you're my ride" the girl beside John said to crystal

"I'm sure John will give you a ride" Roger replied to her.

the girl next to him sunk in her chair, feeling dumped

"bye" Roger waved, winking to John before leaving with his new one night stand, leaving John with a girl he didn't know. he looked over to her, seeing that she was already looking at him.

"I'm John" he smiled nervously

"I know, your from that band" she said sheepishly, looking down at her lap, fiddling with her fingers

John was caught off guard, he didn't know what to do or say in this situation

"what's your name?" John asked

"Y/n"

"thats a pretty name"

John noticed the girls face turn a light shade of pink as he said that and it made him nervous, realising what he said

"thanks" she smiled at him sweetly

the two begun talking for two more hours before realising the time

"I should probably get going, it was nice meeting you John" the girl said, picking up her purse and putting her jacket on.

"we should- uh- do this. we do this" John stuffed up his words

"i'd like that" she giggled before she wrote down her contact on a napkin and gave it to him

"bye John" she smiled, kissing him on the cheek, getting John all flustered at the affection

she walked out of the bar, smiling at him as she looked back at him

John sat there for a minute before he got up and walked out with the napkin in his pocket.

he saw that is was heavily raining and he worried for you, you didn't have an umbrella on you and you didn't even have a ride.

you didn't have a ride

John looked around and noticed you, waiting for a bus while soaking wet

he couldn't leave you out in the rain like that, he wouldn't. especially because you were the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, and one of the sweetest.

"I can give you a ride" he stated as he got closer to you, getting drenched

she turned around and smiled at him

--

"it makes me wonder what would happen if i left you out there in the rain, but I'm glad i didn't. I love you more than anything in the world and I would appreciate it if you would let me spend the rest of my life with you. so, sweetheart, will you marry me?" John finished his ramble

you couldn't come up with any words to reply with and john was left there for a second of silence.

you decided your throat was failing you and just kissed him. running your hands through his long hair and pulling him closer. he pulled away for a second to look at you

"I need an answer" he said, looking down at the ring

"yes! why would I ever say no?" you told him before placing another kiss on his lips

he placed the ring on your finger and let a deep breath he didn't know he was holding.

------------------------------------------------

okokokok i hope that was alright

[adrenaline-roulette]

Thinking It's about time I get back into some writing.... It's been FAR too long..

Does anyone have any requests? Y'all know what I write usually, but if you pull my leg enough, I'll try writing for anything!

I'll try and update some of my WIPs too, but wanna dip my toes in first sorry!

[lomlhwa]

y'know what they say about guitarists (c.s)

pairing: guitarist!san x vocalist!reader

preview: san has watched you flirt with entire crowds. he just wants some of that attention too.

tags/warnings: fem reader, mentions of drummer!mingi, bassist!yunho and stage manager!seonghwa, ONE BED TROPE WHO CHEERED, possessive san, spit play, pet names (good girl, pretty girl, sweet girl), praise, pussy drunk san, dacryphilia, lots of hickeys, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, cockwarming

trigger warnings: n/a

w/c: 2.0k

song recs for this fic: any chase atlantic tbh (slow down, swim, heaven and back)

a/n: this lovely fic is dedicated to @kitten4sannie to celebrate my return to writing! i hope you like this ml!

as you’re onstage playing a gig for a couple thousand people, you feel like you’re in your element. nothing feels better than being onstage with your bandmates. your hips sway to the music coming from the musicians sharing the stage with you.

you give playful winks and body rolls to the fans in the front row. something that always catches your guitarists eye. though, his rhythm never falters. 

jealousy always courses through him. he wants to receive those playful gestures from you. you even wink at mingi, your drummer from time to time. the beloved bassist, yunho, receives the most of your onstage affection. hugs, cheek kisses, etc. makes the male fans jealous. makes san’s blood boil. 

your angelic voice rings through the in-ear monitors that each band member wears. it sends shivers down san’s spine. so talented and so incredibly beautiful.

as your gig ends, you giggle and thank the fans who attended. “thank you guys so much for coming! i love you! we’ll see you next time!” you bow and flounce your way backstage in your cute outfit. your band members follow suit, bowing and running backstage.

“thank was great guys! well done,” you stage manager says. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and smile. “thanks hwa.” you let go of him and turn to yunho. “yuyu, your guitar playing was extra good today!” you exclaim, smiling so brightly that the sun might have competition. you peck his cheek before running off to your stylist to get changed.

san’s shoulders slump, knowing that he won’t receive those small actions of affection from you. “feeling left out, sannie?” mingi asks, towering over the smaller guitarist. san nods, not bothering to look up at mingi. 

“why don’t you just talk to her? there’s gotta be a reason she’s reserved around you,” yunho points out from across the room. his makeup artist is hunched over him, removing his makeup ever so carefully. 

“talk to who about what?” you say, suddenly coming out of your dressing room. you’re beautiful even now; no makeup and in your pajamas. “no one. nothing,” san blurts out. fuck. he’s so stupid. “okay,” you smile, sipping your water through a straw. 

“you guys ready to go back to the hotel?” you ask and the other three members nod in unison. you grab your bag and head for the door. “san’s rooming with you tonight, y/n.” you look back at yunho with wide eyes. “oh! um, okay.” you give san a confused look before heading out the door.  

san flips yunho off before following you out the door. you all pile into the company van and sit in comfortable silence as you head to the hotel. you file out of the van when you pull up, security making sure no fans get to you. you scurry into the building and do your best to sneak into your hotel rooms. you sigh dramatically as you get the door shut. 

you turn around to find san staring at your hotel room in horror. “what’s the probl-” you cut yourself off when you find that your room only has one queen sized bed. “shit,” you mutter. you drop your bag on the floor before you whip your phone out and dial seonghwa’s number. 

“hwa, what the actual fuck? one bed?” san can hear seonghwa trying to explain. he picks up pieces of the conversation. something about this being all that was left when he was booking. something else about telling you to suck it up. you mutter some insults before hanging up on seonghwa.

“i can just sleep on the floor, it’s fine y/n,” san drops his bag on the floor and sits down on the ground next to the bed. “no, san, we can share the bed. we’re touring. i don’t want your limbs to ache,” you shake your head as you climb into the bed. you pat the space next to you and he clambers onto the mattress. 

after a couple hours, you’re both laying on your backs in the dark, in silence. “hey y/n?” san says, finally breaking the silence. you give him a soft hum in response. “can i ask you about something that’s been bothering me?” he asks. you hum again.

“why don’t you give me the same attention you give mingi, yunho and seonghwa? no hugs, no pecks, nothing. you’ll skip over me just to give the ones beside me those things. why? did i do something to make you uncomfortable? or scared to do those things for me?” san can feel you tense up next to him. he wonders why that’s how you reacted. 

“cause…” you trail off. san can see the outline of you sit up in the dark. “cause i have a crush on you. if i gave you that affection, i would never survive. if i gave you a single hug, i would never let go. if i kissed your cheek, i would never be able to keep it from turning into a real kiss,” the confession hangs in the air like a spiderweb. he sits up, like you did. “why didn’t you tell me?” san asks. you sigh and shrug, despite the fact that he can barely see you.

“i didn’t wanna ruin the band dynamic. i didn’t wanna risk you not reciprocating and making things awkward between us. i was just scared that-” san pulls your head back so he can meet your lips with his. it’s swift, but it’s enough to make you sputter in shock.

“i’ve liked you since we even started this band, sweet girl.” despite being in the dark, he maneuvers you onto your back and hovers over you. his cologne envelops you and you shiver. 

“can i…. kiss you again?” san asks tentatively. he ghosts his fingers over your ribcage, making you squirm. “yes, please, san,” you respond. with your permission, he connects your lips in a surprisingly soft kiss. he lips melt with yours, finding a slow pace. his tongue drags over your bottom lip, asking for your plump lips to part.

your warm mouth welcomes san’s tongue as it pokes and prods at your inner cheek and fights with your own tongue. your hips grind up into his, searching for friction. he groans against your lips and it sounds more beautiful than any sound that’s ever come out of his guitar. 

his hands gravitate towards your hips to hold them down, keeping you from grinding anymore. “we can’t…” san whispers. “they’ll hear us.” you shake your head and pull him back down to you, kissing him more feverishly. “fuck… you make it so hard to resist you.” you whine against his lips, fighting his weight holding your hips down. “please, i need you.”

you can feel a moment of hesitation from him before he just lets himself relax into you. his hands leave your hips and you immediately grind up. his jaw falls open and you shudder at the sound that comes out of him again. 

you grab his hand and drag it under your shirt, wrapping his hand around your breast. your spine arches as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. “sannie-” your breath gets caught in your throat when his mouth moves to your neck and he nibbles on your skin lightly. 

“fuck, i can’t wait. let me undress you, sweet girl,” san begs you, his voice low and desperate. you tangle your fingers in his hair and nod as well as you can. his hand leaves your breast and helps his other hand to lift your shirt off you. you lift your torso up to allow for it to come off you completely. he wastes no time in allowing his own shirt to follow suit. your hands run down his chest to his abs, pressing against the muscle lightly. his hands undo the drawstrings on your sleep shorts, sliding your shorts and underwear down together. 

“off,” you mumble, clawing at his plaid pajama pants. he giggles and slides his pants down, discarding them with the rest of the clothes. he runs his hands over your bare thighs, spreading your legs gently. san’s hands run up and down your skin as he leans back down to kiss you. “condom?” he whispers and you shake your head. “no, wanna feel you.” 

san continues to kiss you as one of his hands moves down to his cock, stroking it a few times. he lines the tip up with your hole and sucks in a deep breath. he presses your thighs apart as he shoves his cock inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt. your hips stutter as your walls flutter around him. 

your jaw falls slack and san finds purchase in kissing your jawline and your throat. he pulls out to the tip before slamming back into you and you slam your hand over your mouth to keep from crying out. 

san lifts himself onto his palms to trap you between his arms. “you know what, sweet girl?” he says between thrusts, “you’re fucking mine. you hear me? mine,” his lips are right next to your ear, whispering these words into your brain. “you belong to me,” he grabs your face and forces you to face him.

“your lips? mine,” he kisses you roughly before pulling away again. “your pretty tits? mine,” he leans down to kiss your skin, leaving dark marks in the wake of his lips. “your pretty little pussy? it’s fucking mine,” san speeds up his thrusts to prove his point. your back arches and his tip jabs at the perfect gummy spot inside you. 

“fuck, you’re such a good girl. your pussy is so fucking good. so wet, so warm. you take me so fucking perfectly. my pretty girl. open your mouth for me,” you open your mouth immediately and he leans down to spit in your mouth. “swallow.” your jaw snaps shut to swallow his saliva. 

as your orgasm builds up, tears spring into your eyes. your chest heaves with tight sobs of just how fucking good it feels. “are you crying? does it feel that good, sweet girl?” you wipe your tears away messily, embarrassed that you’re even crying.

wiping your tears was pointless because when his thrusts speed up again, new tears fall immediately. “fuck, oh my god san that feels so fucking good,” you cry out, a little bit too loud. your thighs spasm as you try to close them, but san’s hips between your legs keep you wide open. 

“i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum, please,” your hands claw as san’s biceps, your climax being right there. “me too. where do you want it, pretty girl?” he asks, his hips becoming more and more feverish. “inside, fuck, cum inside me.” san bites his bottom lip as his thrusts become sloppier.

you wrap your arms around his torso and bring him down to you so you can dig your nails into his back. he rests his body weight on his elbows and you clench around him. “cumming,” you whisper as your back arches for a final time before stuttering back down. the intensity of your walls gushing around him finally sends san over the edge. 

the two of you just lay there completely still as ropes of cum fill up your abused hole. your legs wrap around his hips so that he won’t pull out before you want him to. “you’re so perfect. you’re so beautiful, so pretty when you cum,” he strokes your hair as he whispers in your ear again. 

“let me pull out so you can go to the bathroom and then we can sleep, okay?” you shake your head. “no. no. stay. roll over so i’m on top. lemme sleep with you inside. please. please, sannie,” you begging goes right to his head and he does exactly as you asked. with you situated on top of him, cock still inside, he pulls the blanket over the two of you. “we have to get up early to shower though, okay?” you nod.

_____________

“good morning love bugs. your throat gonna be okay to sing tonight?” yunho smirks at you and you smack san. “hey! i was the one who said they were gonna hear us!” he cries out. “at least you finally fucked,” mingi comments. 

“yeah, real fuckin good,” seonghwa comments, looking exhausted. he was in the room right next to yours. he shakes his head. “i’m sorry hwa.”

“get in the fucking van.”

© lomlhwa 2024

[writingmochi]

character introduction via instagram profile!

cast: heeseung ✗ fem.reader

synopsis: when you told your long-term rival and latest hook-up, heeseung, that you are pregnant with his child; you didn't expect said topic to be involved in your rivalry!

genre: romantic comedy, slice of life, coming-of-age, slow burn, drama, rivals since childhood to [redacted], college/university au, pregnancy au, future parents au, fluff, angst, mature content (explicit smut)

taglist? closed

release: part 1 out now

message from the moon: THIS IS NOT A SMAU cause i think using social media profile (and a little description) can describe a character so much. i think that this fic can prosper more as a written fic with the intricacies between hee and (y/n)'s complex relationship ;) also, this is 2/2 out of my bday gift to yall

(L/N)(Y/N) aka meg march: business management major at hybe uni. mitski fan. part-time daycare attendant and babysitter. heeseung’s rival.

KIM MINJEONG aka beth march: multimedia major at hybe uni. (y/n)’s roommate 1/3. aspiring filmmaker. girlfriend of sigma mu frat’s vp, jung sungchan.

SHIN RYUJIN aka jo march: design and visual communication major at hybe uni. (y/n)’s roommate 2/3 and high school best friend. graphic designer and model. a bisexual demiromantic queen.

LEE CHAERYEONG aka amy march: performing arts (dance) major at hybe uni. (y/n)’s roommate 3/3. a member of the core dance team in the want2dance crew. comes from a wealthy family of performers and artists.

LEE HEESEUNG aka raphael: communications (journalism) major at hybe uni. small forward/shooting guard and captain of the hybe uni's basketball club, decelis. aspiring sports journalist and photographer. (y/n)’s rival.

CHOI BEOMGYU aka michaelangelo: performing arts (music) major at hybe uni. heeseung’s roommate 1/3 and high school best friend. guitarist in an indie band, txt. the complete opposite of heeseung regarding (y/n) and her friends.

YANG JEONGIN aka donatello: philosophy major at hybe uni. heeseung's roommate 2/3. an up-and-coming twitch streamer in the content creator group, stray kids. another "rival" of heeseung, gaming rivals actually cause both of them are competitive af.

LIM JIMIN aka leonardo: anthropology major in hybe uni. heeseung's roommates 3/3. part of the want2dance crew alongside chaeryeong and also an assistant choreographer. has a background in ballet, contemporary, and hip-hop and that's why he has to take care of his upper body (and why he is a gym bro)

taglist: @raeyunshm @leilasmom @evidive @boba-beom @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @blurryriki @amazzwon @reallysmolrenjun @stealanity

© writingmochi on tumblr, 2021-2024. all rights reserved

[polin-erospsyche]

I know there wasn’t time in the show, but I would love a scene of Colin picking out/designing the engagement and wedding ring and just see his thought process. Any fic writers out there, please feel free to write us one!

Ok, anon, know that when you send an ask like this to a person who writes fan fiction for fun that person will go "oh what a great idea! I'll have a go at it!" and then you end up with a 2K scene of Polin fluff. It's not exactly what you asked for but I hope you'll like it, especially considering that I haven't written fanfic in the longest of times (preferring playing with my own characters) and I was afraid of writing for Colin and Pen and not make their voice justice. I tried my best and I had a lot of fun writing it!

The quill's scratch against the thick paper resonated loudly in the quiet room. Penelope's thoughts raced faster than her hand could write. The gossip of the last few days created a frenzy in her mind, an unusual state for her. She had been writing for years and had always controlled the words she put down on paper. Yet recently, it had become harder somehow. The growing pressure from the Queen and London’s elite weighed heavily on her. People knew who she was, and she had vowed to use her quill more consciously. There was no more hiding behind her words and her column.

What she had failed to account for were the demands from the ladies and gentlemen. The socialites and aristocrats, with their veiled threats and insistent flattery, expected her to navigate their intrigues and scandals with care, yet with a sharpness that would entertain and inform. Each letter she received and each whispered rumor added to the weight on her shoulders. Her reputation had become a double-edged sword, granting her influence but also binding her to an unwritten contract with her readers. She remembered telling Eloise once that she had power; now she was fully realizing that power always came at a steep price.

She returned her quill to its inkwell on the desk, leaned back in her chair, and let out a long exhale. Her hands momentarily covered her face before gently sliding down to rest on her pregnant belly. Absentmindedly, she twirled her wedding band, tracing the contours of the bee and flower, finding comfort in the familiar ridges of the ring.

“You seem pensive.” The voice startled her from her thoughts. “How’s the writing going?” She looked up to see Colin standing in the doorway, a familiar and knowing grin on his face. He knew she had been struggling to write anything of note lately.

“How’s Thomas?” Penelope asked back without missing a beat. Their son was always a good topic of conversation; the state of her writing, not so much.

"Fast asleep," Colin replied, his grin softening into a tender smile.

"Of course he is. You spoil him too much. Did you know he won’t sleep unless you’re the one putting him to bed and singing him to sleep?" Penelope teased lightly.

"I'm certain that's not true."

"Well, it's been fifteen minutes since you put him to bed,” she glanced at the clock striking nine fifteen, “and here you are already. Yesterday, it took me a good half hour. I think I'm losing in this deal we made."

Balancing their household duties, social and professional obligations, and caring for their toddler had made finding quiet writing time increasingly rare. They had agreed to take turns putting Thomas to bed, granting each other much-needed solitude. Lately, though, Thomas had developed a clear preference for his father's bedtime routine, falling asleep in a matter of minutes, leaving Penelope with very little quiet time indeed.

“I can leave if you need some time,” Colin offered.

“And leave me to face the blank page?”

Colin furrowed his brows and strode purposefully across the room to stand beside her. Peering down at the paper she had been writing on, he remarked, “Calling it blank might be a bit of an overstatement.”

Words had been jotted down, so technically, it wasn’t a blank page. However, it was not a good page, and she could not publish it in this state. Yet she needed to submit something tonight to the printer—the Queen was expecting it.

“I think you’re overthinking this,” he added. “I think you need to step away from your desk.”

“Colin, I can’t. The Queen is waiting. I have to finish writing this tonight. Apparently, I’ve become an entertainer to the Queen and an ear for everybody else’s gossip,” Penelope said with a hint of frustration.

“Weren’t you always listening?”

“Believe it or not, there’s a difference between lurking behind a potted plant, eavesdropping, and having people visit, hoping for a favor in return,” Penelope retorted with a touch of irony.

“I, for one, am very glad you are in the center of the room. Really, you should be in the center of every room.”

At that moment, she looked up at him with eyes devoid of humor, only to meet his gaze filled with love and admiration. For a brief moment, the air seemed to escape her lungs. They had been married for months. They had a child together. They had settled into a routine that suited them both. Yet, sometimes it all still felt like a fleeting dream, almost too good to be true. It was everything she had endlessly dreamed of as a young girl, and now it was real, tangible. She wondered if she would ever fully grow accustomed to the way he looked at her before deciding that she preferred to always be pleasantly surprised.

He gently placed his hand on top of hers, stopping her fidgeting with the ring. Interlacing his fingers through hers, he gently pulled her towards him, and she moved with very little resistance. He slid his arms around her. This close, he smelled of ink and baby powder, a scent so comforting that she felt the tension release a little from her shoulders. Before she had time to fully sink into the safety he provided, she felt him pulling her closer still, slowly leading her away from the desk until they were standing in the center of the room. Tilting her head up to meet his blue eyes, she saw a glint of mischief, as if he was proud of himself for successfully drawing her away from her work. It was as if he whispered to her - it’s all right, the Queen will wait, the words will wait.

“You know how I know you are preoccupied?” he asked, still holding her, his fingers drawing small circles on the small of her back.

“I’m absent.” She bit her lower lip. She knew she had been. There but not entirely, part of her chained to her desk, to the next words she had to write. They were both like this, maybe it was the affliction of being a writer, a wandering mind. But he seemed to have a much easier time concealing his wandering. She envied his ability to be fully present with the ones he loved, giving them his undivided attention as if nothing else in the world mattered. It was part of his charm.

He gave a low chuckle. “No,” he said, to which she raised her eyebrows, so he quickly added, “I mean you are a little...” He paused as if choosing his words carefully, “...away sometimes.” She gave a resigned sigh. She was aware of her distractions, but she really would have preferred not to address them tonight. Before she could entirely withdraw from him, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. His gaze still held hers, intense. His breath warm against her skin. Then his thumb trailed over the wedding band she had been fiddling with. “It’s your tell.”

“The wedding ring? Is it a tell that I’m married to you?”

“You play with it when you are anxious or preoccupied. I see you, I know.”

Of course he did, just as she knew his tells. The way he furrowed his brows. The way he sometimes seemed to be searching for the right words. The way his quill hung in the air just so when he was writing, as if ready to catch the next word mid-air. She knew some of those tells, but living together, they had become mirrors for each other. They saw each other, they knew each other—sometimes, she thought, better than they knew themselves.

“I find it comforting,” she said to him, her hand suspended in the air between them. “Even if my writing days end up in ashes, I have this, I have you. It’s a promise that things will be all right.”

“That will not happen. It’s just a new normal, but by now, I believe we are adept at dealing with new normals.” He gently caressed her belly. “I think you’ll be writing as long as you’re breathing, and I love you for it. But for what it’s worth, I’m very glad you love the ring. I was so nervous the day I had it designed.”

“You, nervous? Why?” He had been rather swift in his proposal and securing the rings, but she could imagine him poring over ring designs, trying to guess which she would prefer. She wished she could have told him that it didn’t matter; as long as it was him she was marrying, she would have been happy with any ring. But she particularly loved the one he had chosen, so she asked, “How did you choose it?”

At that, he smiled wider and brought both of her hands up so that the rings were visible, his thumbs gently caressing over them. “This one,” he said, holding the hand with her engagement ring more firmly, “reminded me of you. Its simplicity and delicacy reminded me of your voice in the letters you wrote me. Also, the jeweler told me it symbolized loyalty and faithfulness. This one,” he continued, bringing up her hand with the wedding ring, “was to symbolize the Bridgerton family.”

“Our family,” Penelope chimed in—a representation of the family she had always, in some ways, been a part of, whether unofficially or more officially now through marriage. A family that loved her, and she loved them as her own. A family that had welcomed her with open arms.

“Yes, our family,” Colin agreed, nodding. “I’m not sure why the bee became our symbol, especially considering...” He trailed off, his face somber, lost in a memory he seemed reluctant to revisit. “Well, you know,” he finished, his expression sober. “But then again, in the morning, the world had Hyacinth, and what an absolute force she is—both a joy to us and a threat to the world. So, the bee represents us, a cycle of our family, and apparently it also symbolizes celebration, prosperity, unity, and resilience.”

She looked at her rings and then up at him again. He had never fully explained why he had chosen those rings, but now she understood it better. “It’s a representation of us,” she said.

“Yes, us and what I hope our marriage will be.”

“Resilient,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “We certainly are that.”

“You more than anyone else I’ve known, although don’t let Eloise know I’ve said it.”

Penelope let out a small chuckle. “I don’t always feel resilient,” she admitted, her tone more serious.

“That’s what we do; we’re a team. We remind each other that we’ll find our way. Besides, you’ve faced much worse and come out of it.”

She leaned into him, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. She allowed herself to be enveloped in the warmth of his embrace, and as they swayed gently in the flickering light of the surrounding candles, she felt the weight of her responsibilities, the demands of the Queen, and the expectations of the ton seep away. For a moment, she was a girl again—not a mother, not a famous writer—just a girl dancing in the arms of the boy she loved, who, by some twist of fate, loved her back just as much and had decided to intertwine his life with hers.

After what felt like an instant but must have been longer for the clock now struck close to ten, Penelope stopped their swaying. “Would you stay? Would you write with me? Or read? But stay until I’m finished?” 

Colin gently kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I’ll always stay with you.”

She rose on her tiptoes, her hand coming around his neck, pulling him down to her. Their breath mingled before his lips found hers, pulling her closer as she let out a small moan. His hands traveled up her back, sending shivers down her spine, while her own hands gripped at the lapels of his jacket before finding their way into his hair. His lips moved downward, along the side of her mouth, down her cheek, then her neck, leaving a hot trail of kisses. His hands grew more frenetic, gripping the fabric of her dress.

“Colin,” she whispered between a protest and a pant, “Colin.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, the vibration warm against her collarbone.

“I have to finish... the Queen... the printer...”

She tried to grasp for words, for sense and logic, even as she attempted to push him away in vain. Truth be told, if he didn’t stop kissing her now, she wouldn’t care much about anything else besides their own needs and desires. That's how quickly Penelope had become pregnant after giving birth to Thomas.

“Colin,” she said more insistently, feeling her resolve to finish her column hanging by a thread.

“All right, all right,” Colin said, stealing one last kiss before meeting her eyes with hooded dark blue eyes. “One day, I’ll have a word with the Queen.”

“And tell her what? That you’d prefer me in our bedchambers rather than behind my writing desk?”

“Now that’s an idea!” he exclaimed, beaming as if it were the best idea she’d ever suggested.

“I’m afraid she’d find it preposterous, considering she’s the queen and managed to have a plethora of children.”

“Does that mean you’re open to the idea of having a plethora of children?” he asked, playfully stealing her words.

She chuckled, “Let’s have our second, and then we’ll discuss the possibility of having more.”

“Discuss? Because you want to discuss what we’ll do in our bedchambers if having more children is not an option?”

“You know what I’d really like to do right now?”

“No, tell me.”

“Finish it,” she said, looking back at her desk and the half-written piece of paper, “so that we may go to our bedchambers and discuss all of this afterwards.”

He seemed to catch her suggestive look, as he did not protest. Instead, he kissed her forehead before leaving the room momentarily, returning with a fresh stack of paper and settling down at his own desk, positioned next to hers.

Penelope smiled as she watched him concentrate, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. She felt a renewed sense of purpose and returned to her desk. The page was no longer daunting; it was a canvas waiting for her to paint with words. With a deep breath, she picked up the quill once more. This time, the words flowed more easily, each sentence building upon the last. The gossip and intrigues of the ton found their place in her column. She wrote with a clarity and sharpness that had eluded her earlier.

As the clock struck midnight, Penelope set down her quill and read through her work. A smile of satisfaction spread across her face. It was done.

She stretched before standing and walking to stand behind Colin’s chair. Sensing her presence, he had stopped writing, but his focus remained on the page before him. She slid her arms around him, her hands running up and down his chest. She whispered, “Want to go discuss your writing in our bedroom?”

“Absolutely!” he said, rising and kissing her passionately.

[kittyball23]

How about a short fic of how poppy was so happy that she got to dance with brozone mostly Bitty B, and Branch reminds her he not that kid anymore getting a rizz out of her but their soon kiss gets interrupted by john

Sure :)

Baby No More (a Trolls fanfic)

It was only after the exciting hype of the evening had fizzled down into something more cool and collected that Branch and Poppy found the opportune moment to do as any couple would when they had a lovely sunset and each other - take a romantic stroll along the beach.

His larger blue hand gently entwined with her delicate pink one, Branch followed alongside his girlfriend’s light, energetic steps as she merrily skipped, swinging their conjoined arms back and forth, and guiding them to and fro from the white, foamy surf as it washed up against the shore.

Branch shook his head at her antics. “Don’t you ever get tired?” he questioned.

“Nope!” she chirped, not a hint of hesitation in her voice.

“Well,” Branch began to reply, “I know I’d be after all that dancing.”

“Come on, Branch, it was fun!” Poppy chided. “What’s the use of being in a band if you can’t bust out a move, huh?”

“Singing,” the blue Troll replied easily. “Isn’t that the most important thing of being in a band?”

“The most important thing about being in a band is having fun with your bandmates and your music,” Poppy stated matter-of-factly, “and I should know since” - she paused to giggle - “I’m in a band now!” She gave a delighted squeal and stopped them in their tracks so that she could give him a big hug. “Oh thank you, so, so much, Branch!!”

“Poppy, you don’t have to thank me,” Branch wheezed, nearly out of breath from the tightness of her embrace, “I mean, you knew it was gonna happen eventually, right?”

“NO!” she exclaimed with a flail of her arms. “I was SO not expecting that. Do you know how BIG this is for me?!” She grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him right in the eyes. “I’ve been wanting to dance with BroZone since I was a little girl! Oh, and it was BETTER than I could’ve ever hoped for!”

Branch chuckled when her fangirl-mode kicked in hard, the Pop Queen fanning herself and rapidly pacing back and forth on the sand. “Oh my gosh, I STILL can’t believe it! Me onstage with The Leader! And The Heartthrob! And The Fun Boy and The Sensitive One!…”

The blue Troll rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we’re prooobably gonna have to think up new nicknames to give ‘em…”

She turned on him with a sparkle in her eyes. “Aw, and we definitely can’t forget about you, Bitty B the Baby!” She squished his cheeks in a loving manner, giggling, though Branch didn’t quite share in the amusement she had.

“... and we’re starting with mine,” he finished, continuing off of his earlier statement. He gently removed her hands from his face and held onto them firmly, speaking to her slowly so she could hear him very clearly. “Poppy, you do know that I am NOT a baby anymore, right?”

“Yeah, of course I know,” Poppy laughed. “I mean, a baby wouldn’t be able to do this, would he?” Batting her lashes, she leaned in closer to his face, eyes fluttering shut and lips puckering slightly. Branch felt his heart race. Poppy was getting far more comfortable exchanging kisses more frequently with him, and he was certainly not going to be one to deny her whenever she wanted one.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Branch whispered, right before he closed the gap and pressed his mouth to hers.  Her lips were warm and soft, perfectly smooth against his like they always were, nearly able to take him away completely from the world around him - if it wasn't for the rambunctious cheering that sounded.

“All right, YEAH! Now that’s how a man gets things done!”

Branch groaned, breaking apart from the sweet smooch earlier than he would have liked to shoot a glare at the only brother who probably would interrupt such a moment without seeing anything wrong with it (and, who always seemed to pop in out of nowhere at just the wrong moments!).

When John Dory caught his intense gaze, he became sheepish and stammered an apology. “Whoops! Oh, sorry… I guess I probably shoulda waited till afterwards to start cheerin’ then, huh?”

“Yeah,” Branch answered tersely, crossing his arms.

“Heh, my bad! Um, see you later, I guess?” JD said, not waiting for a reply and scampering off to wherever he had so suddenly come from.

Branch rolled his eyes and met Poppy’s gaze. “I think we should make his new nickname ‘The Blockhead.’”

Poppy gasped and shoved him in the shoulder. “Branch! That’s mean!”

He laughed. “It’s just a joke, Poppy, I’m kidding.”

“Good,” she huffed. Grabbing his hand, she leaned in close to him again. “Now, where were we?”

Branch smirked and met her halfway, never one to be tired of displaying his affection to her.

**********************************************************

(btw, @happyqueenandgrumpydork, for the other oneshot request of yours about the broppy kiss at the end of TBT, did you want the perspective of Branch or Poppy? I'm going to work on writing it this weekend 🙂)

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: hi hello i wasn’t expecting to write barzy long fic but those damn musician mat photos KILLED me. also yes, i started this fic literally the day after the photos were posted but here we are. it needed major editing and also i need to like sit on it for a bit before posting. ANYWAY it’s here and i’m happy with it? i hate the title but whatever, it is what it is. enjoy and let me know what you think!! 🫶🏻

word count: 4.3k

tw: semi-public fingering but doesn’t go all the way, public thigh grinding

summary: hanging out in a dive bar on long island, the last thing you expect to see is mat with a guitar over his shoulder, joining the cover band on stage

When you look up from responding to a text and Mat’s nowhere to be found, you’re not really that surprised. He does this a lot - gets distracted and wanders off. Occasionally, he’ll be cornered by a fan, smiling gamely for a selfie and chatting for a bit. Every once in a while he gets roped into a game of pool, chatting with the random men like he’s known them for years. Once in a bar in the city, and this one nearly killed you, he struck up a conversation with Aaron Tveit - your favorite Broadway star and secretly a man that you absolutely would use a hall pass on - without realizing that he was talking to someone more famous in certain New York circles than he is.

All this to say, Mat disappearing in the bar isn’t a totally unprecedented occurrence.

You set your phone back down on the high top table and lean a shoulder against the wall next to you, crossing your legs at the ankle and taking a sip of your High Noon. It’s warm-ish now, starting to taste more artificial, and you look over your shoulder at the bar, scrutinizing the crowd that’s gathered and waiting for the bartender to notice them. It’s not worth it to leave the table since it’ll be snatched up in a second, so you flip your phone over and use your index finger to tap out a quick message to Mat asking him to get you another drink when he gets back from wherever he wandered off to - at this point you’re assuming there’s a major line for the men’s room. The little blue bubble floats up and shows it was delivered. Satisfied, you lean back against the wall, scooping your hair off the back of your neck with your free hand and holding it in a lazy ponytail so your neck can cool off a bit.

Long Island is a humid, swampy mess, August slipping away into a moment in time, as Queen Taylor says. But September is doing her damnedest to remind everyone that she’s still a summer month too.

Not that you mind, having been born and raised on Long Island and intimately familiar with the weather extremes, but it’s particularly gross in the bar tonight. Sweaty bodies packed in for the 90s alt cover band that’s supposed to be playing tonight. They’ve played at the bar before and they’re pretty good you have to admit, but right now you’re just wishing for a little bit of a breeze.

Giving up on your hair, you twist it up into a messy knot, securing it with a thin black elastic that’s seen better days. Three loops around thick hair, and you know it’s going to snap before the night is over, but you can’t worry about that now. There’s immediate relief from pulling your hair off your neck and now you can focus on the fact that Mat’s actually been missing for more than a few minutes. You tap your phone screen, looking for a message, but there’s nothing from him, just a few messages in the girls’ group chat talking about Monday night’s poker event. Wrinkling your nose, you look around the bar again, trying to see if you can spot your boyfriend.

It’s too dark though, Mat’s hair and black tee would blend in with the crowds. After a few more minutes of looking, you give up, rolling your eyes and muttering to yourself, “he better not have found Aaron Tveit again,” before taking another sip of your High Noon. The spark of grapefruit flavour hits the back of your tongue and you pinch your lips together, swiping at your lower lip with the tip of your tongue. Drops of condensation roll down the can, making your hand wet and you wipe your palm on the fabric of your dress, already a little sticky with sweat.

Bored without Mat, you reply to the group chat and scroll through Instagram, double tapping on a photo Sofia posted of Olivia and commenting a string of heart eyes emojis. While you’re on your phone, the band takes the stage, a group of older men that have clearly been on the circuit for a while now. You start to swipe over to the phone app, ready to call Mat and find out where he went, when another man comes out onto the stage - this one much younger, much more handsome, and much more familiar to you.

“What?” The shocked gasp falls out of your mouth and either you’re louder than you thought or Mat just has radar to tell where you are at any given moment, because he looks over as he’s adjusting the guitar strap on his shoulder and winks at you, his mouth curling up in that familiar cocky smirk you know and love.

Mat’s been fooling around on the guitar for years now and he’s gotten half-way decent in that time, but you had no idea he was feeling confident enough to play in front of a packed bar. Or that he knew the band well enough to ask or be asked to join.

The lights over the stage dim and brighten simultaneously and the band gets into position, drumsticks clicking together to signify the start of the set. In your excitement and rush to grab your phone so you can record Mat, you nearly knock over your drink, catching it at the last second. Mat grins at you again and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, looking down at the guitar to position his fingers. You cover your mouth with your free hand to muffle the excited noises that start when the band begins to play - you want to make sure that the video you record has Mat’s playing, not your squeaks and cheers. He looks a little nervous at the start, focused intently on her fingers and the guitar strings, but as the song goes on, Mat gets more into it and relaxes.

The phone shakes in your hand a little from your excitement and the inevitability of you bouncing a bit on the balls of your feet as you get into the music too. Mat’s hair falls over his forehead and curls around his ears, long at his neck, and a flush of heat spreads through your stomach. He’s stupidly attractive up on stage, playing his guitar, and you’re ready to jump him. You lean up a little on your toes to get a better angle, the hem of your dress fluttering around your thighs. Mat looks up while he plays and spots you again. You move your hand from your mouth and grin brightly at him. He responds with another delighted smirk, shaking his hair out of his face.

Around you, the crowd is into the cover, singing along when they know the lyrics and dancing in that lazy way people dance in dive bars. You catch a few mentions of Mat’s name, eyes landing on a handful of younger girls that are staring openly at him and recording. You bite down on your lower lip to prevent the self-satisfied smirk from forming. There’s something extremely satisfying knowing that all these girls are thirsting over Mat, but you get to go home with him.

Mat shakes his hair back again and scrunches his nose up while he plays and the girl closest to you nearly yelps, “fuck, he’s so hot with that hair.”

Her friend chimes in with, “it’s giving Nathan Scott season four minus the depression.”

The first girl replies, “it’s going to be such a crime when he has to cut it for the season.” She’s not wrong - you always hate when Mat does the Lou-approved chop at the end of the summer.

You muffle a laugh behind your hand and focus on Mat’s playing. The song winds down and his grin is immediate and genuine. He shakes the hands of each of the guys and claps them on the back before wandering off the stage. You stop the recording and set your phone back down on the table, clapping and cheering along with the crowd. The band starts back up again and you bounce on the balls of your feet, waiting for Mat to find you.

He ducks through the crowds, still grinning, and appears in front of you suddenly. Before he can say a word, you throw yourself at him, locking your arms around his neck and slanting your lips over his. One of Mat’s arms wraps around your lower back, holding you flush against the front of his body. You grin against his mouth - he tastes like peach flavored High Noon, chapstick, and the salt of his sweat. Mat’s tongue swipes against your lower lip, encouraging you to open your mouth and you do, deepening the kiss and twisting your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed up by your lips. The kiss lingers and fades out as you pull back for air, but then Mat ducks forward and kisses you softly. Your forehead rests against his and you exhale a little giggle.

“Hi, babe,” he laughs, whole face crinkled up in delight when he pulls back, one arm still looped around your waist. You can feel his hand tremble against your waist, betraying nerves or leftover adrenaline from his stint on stage.

“Oh my god! You loser!” You laugh, pushing at his shoulder with the palm of your hand. Mat grabs your wrist with lightning quick reflexes and flexes his fingers around your wrist, tightening gently before he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss your pulse point. Your breath stutters in your chest, but you continue, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were going to play!”

Still holding your wrist, Mat steps closer and shakes his head. “I wasn’t planning on it. I went to the bathroom, sort of got talking with the band,” he shrugs, “it just happened.”

“It just happened!” you echo on a laugh. “Well you were amazing.”

“Thanks,” Mat ducks his head, ears going a little pink underneath his hair. He releases your wrist and scrapes his hand through his hair, the sweaty strands holding in place. Your back bumps against the wall and you realize Mat’s still crowding your body, one muscled thigh in between your legs. You hook an ankle around his, dragging his leg a little closer and the faint smile on his lips becomes more salacious, hungry. He leans his hand against the wall next to your head, caging you in. Your stomach flips and heat coils low, throbbing between your legs.

Your tongue darts out and licks your lower lip and Mat’s gaze traces the movement, eyes darkening in a familiar way. His palm is flat over the curve of your hip, but his fingers curl up a little, capturing the cotton fabric of your dress and tugging the fabric up a little. A flutter of a breeze hits your upper thigh.

“Maybe you should quit hockey,” you giggle a little, blinking lazily, “and play guitar full time.”

“Yeah?” Mat raises an eyebrow. “Don’t think amateur guitar playing is as lucrative as professional hockey.” His fingers twist in your dress more, making you glad that he has you backed against the wall and blocked with his body. He leans in, pressing his leg against your inner thigh, knocking it out an inch or so, widening your stance. Your entire body flushes with heat and it has nothing to do with the humid bar atmosphere.

Your head lolls back, hitting lightly against the wall, and you hum. “It’s really fucking hot though,” you murmur, tipping your head up so you can press a kiss to the edge of his chin. “All that fingering,” you giggle the innuendo, finding it cheesy even as you say it.

Mat huffs a laugh against your temple. His fingers loosen their grip in the fabric of your dress, letting the damp and sure to be wrinkled fabric fall back against your thigh. “I already have a fingering side-gig,” he informs you, his hand slipping underneath the hem of your dress. He presses the pads of his fingers up against the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp, jolting your hips forward. He strokes the fabric slowly, dropping kisses against your temple and down the side of your face. He works you over through the fabric, sticky arousal collecting between your legs. The lace surely can’t be doing much at this point and Mat’s fingers slide over your inner thighs. His calloused fingertips catch and snag on the lace, stuttering his work and making your clit throb.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna let you touch me after that line,” you laugh, choking off into a little gasp when Mat snaps the elastic of your panties against the crease of your thigh.

“You started it,” he reminds you, a cocky smirk gracing his lips. His forehead touches yours as his fingers continue their exploration, trailing up and dipping under the waistband of your panties. Your stomach clenches when he stops inches from where you really want him and you bump his nose with yours. “You’re not supposed to start things you can’t finish,” he warns, pressing closer to you, sliding his fingers lower. Your skin is hot, sweat beading at your hairline from the effort of keeping your legs from trembling.

You let out a harsh exhale. “Mat,” you mumble his name, grabbing at his wrist with both hands, trying to force his hand lower. He shakes his head against yours and doesn’t budge, your muscle strength no match for his. “We’re in public.” As if to punctuate your sentence, the drummer goes into a solo, the beat of the sticks on the drums pounding in time with your heart.

His fingers curl briefly and then they’re gone, leaving you cold and hot and frustrated. “Okay,” he says, shrugging. There’s an infuriating smirk on his face when you manage to look up. “I’ll behave.” He flips the hem of your dress down and smooths his palm over the fabric.

“I…what…Mat!” You stutter, the throbbing between your legs pounding in time with your heart. “You can’t just…” your voice trails off and you press your thighs together - or try to at least - Mat’s muscled leg is still in between yours and prevents you from giving yourself any relief.

Your absolute menace of a boyfriend holds his index finger - the one that had just been making a home in between your legs and is still wet with your arousal - up to his lips and shushes you. “Shh, I’m trying to listen to the music,” he smirks, sliding his other hand down the wall behind you and wrapping it around your shoulders, easily manhandling you so your back is leaning against his chest while he leans against the wall. You’re so stunned by the delayed pleasure that you don’t resist at all. Mat reaches around you and picks up your half-empty High Noon and knocks it back, holding the can lightly and sliding his arm from around your shoulders to wrap around your waist, forearm pressed against your stomach. His broad palm rests on your opposite hip, blunt nails scratching lightly and absently.

He hums along to the music in your ear and you sink back against his chest, still frustrated, muttering, “I can’t believe you shushed me.” Mat exhales a little laugh and kisses the side of your neck, scraping his teeth against your pulse point. Your head suddenly feels too heavy for your neck and you drop it back against his shoulder, giving Mat easier access to kiss your cheekbone. “Take me home,” you whine quietly, silently willing Mat’s hand to drift lower, but it remains stubbornly planted on the jut of your hip bone.

Mat’s nose bumps against your temple and you catch the scent of his cologne, mixed with the citrusy sweet alcoholic scent of the High Noon on his breath. He lazily rolls his hips forward, the hard bulge of his erection pressing against the curve of your ass. You grind back against him, whining low in the back of your throat. “Mat, please, I wanna go home,” you mumble, the vibration of the music rattling through your chest. Your hands wrap around Mat’s forearm, squeezing. “C’mon, take me to bed.”

“Babe,” Mat’s arm tightens around you, pulling you harder against his erection. You push your ass into him again, nearly grinding over the thigh that’s still in between your legs, desperate for relief. He holds you in place. “Thought we were in public?” His voice is slightly strangled, his breathing hitching when you press back harder, slipping a hand behind your back and in between your bodies. It takes a second, but you manage to wiggle your hand into place, pressing the heel of your palm, hard, against the fly of his jeans. Mat sucks in a sharp breath and he pinches your hip in warning, his head dipping down and his teeth sinking into the side of your neck in a matching warning nip. You hiss at the sting of his teeth, knowing there’s going to be a mark there in the morning when he sucks gently at the spot, tracing his tongue over the faint impressions of his teeth.

“We don’t have to be,” you murmur, brushing your knuckles against the ridge of his erection. “You have a very nice car that can get us home in twenty minutes.”

Mat’s breath is harsh in your ear, the empty can in his hand making a crunching noise when he crumples it in his fist. Your arm is starting to go a little numb, twisted behind your back and pressed in between your bodies, and you’re desperately hoping Mat gives up and gives in to what you want soon. His hand flexes over your hip and you grind down on his thigh again, hiccuping a breath at the drag of his jeans and your lacy panties over your swollen clit. Faintly, you wonder if you’re causing a scene, if people are watching you both, but Mat’s hands aren’t anywhere they shouldn’t be and your grind on his thigh could easily be mistaken for drunken dancing.

“Think you can wait twenty minutes, babe?” Mat jerks his hips into your ass, tossing the can back onto the table top and wrapping his other arm around your stomach so you’re caged against him. You wiggle your hand out from behind your back just before it’s completely lost feeling. “Moving pretty good on my thigh,” he bounces it lightly, sending shockwaves up your spine. “Think you could get off like this?”

Yes, is your immediate thought.

You have and can use Mat’s thick, muscled thigh to get yourself off. Most recently two nights ago, lazily grinding yourself over him on the couch while half-heartedly watching a movie. But tonight, with alcohol and lust fogging your brain and the image of Mat’s capable fingers working the guitar strings, you don’t want his thigh.

“Wan’ your fingers,” you turn your head and press the tip of your nose against the side of his neck, nuzzling him. He smells so fucking good. Mat chuckles, kissing your forehead. “You’re so good with your fingers.” Your hands cross your stomach, covering his hands, and you play with his fingers, lacing them with yours.

“You’re good at getting what you want,” Mat grins and you can feel the lift of his cheek against the side of your head. He squeezes you in a hug once, tightly, before loosening his grip. “You gotta walk in front of me to the car, babe. Hide the evidence of what you do to me, don’t wanna get in trouble.”

Your heart kicks up its tempo in your chest and you lift your head from Mat’s shoulder. “Home?” You ask brightly, wiggling and turning in Mat’s arms, your own coming up to loop around his neck.

“Yeah, home,” he laughs, smirking, cupping your cheek with one large hand and dragging your face up to his for a deep kiss. His hips roll mindlessly against yours and you lift higher on your toes to press flush against him, the throbbing between your legs building. When he breaks the kiss off, there’s a mischievous little gleam in his eyes and a slightly mean curl to his lips. “But you don’t get to touch. I’m gonna practice on you, okay, babe?” He taps his fingertips against your cheek, “just these. Gonna practice my finger placement.” Mat’s eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with lust, obscuring the usual hazel-green color.

Your head bobbles up and down in an agreeable nod. You’ll agree to almost anything just to get Mat’s fingers inside your throbbing cunt. You also know that he’s a total softie and as much as he tries to act stern and tough, once you get into bed with him it’s only a matter of time before he gives up the act and gives you whatever you want. Honestly, you’re both too horny for each other to really commit to the bit. Plus, you roll your hips up into Mat’s, based on the rock hard erection he’s sporting, you’re not even sure Mat’ll be able to keep to the promise of giving you only his fingers.

His hand slides back from your cheek and tangles in the messy bun knotted at the nape of your neck, gently pulling so your face tilts up. “Let’s get out of here,” he grins, kissing the corner of your mouth and turning you around swiftly, one hand resting on your lower back to push you in front of him and through the crowd. You reach back and tangle your fingers with his free hand, a zap of excitement running up your spine when Mat’s hand slides lower and grabs a handful of your ass.

You’re navigating the crowd with Mat hot on your heels, purposely stepping on the backs of your sandals and laughing when you whip your head around to glare at him. His hand flexes against your lower back, warm through the cotton, and he uses his hand in yours to pull you back slightly so your ass bumps against his groin. “Gotta move a little faster, babe,” he teases.

“You’re a fucking menace, Mathew,” you grumble, a laugh startling out of your chest when Mat finally urges you out the front door and crowds you up against the front of the bar. Heat pools low in your stomach and you lick your lower lip reflexively. Mat grins down at you and ruffles a hand through his hair. It’s messy, the little wings sticking out around his ears and neck, and all you want to do is tangle your fingers in it and pull while he eats you out. And you tell him so, watching with delight as his eyes glaze over a little and his mouth goes slack.

“Why the fuck are we still standing here then?” He asks, voice a little strangled.

A giggle slips past your lips. “You tell me, Van Halen.” Your hands slide up Mat’s arms and over his shoulders so your fingers can twist in his hair. Mat hisses when you tug gently. “Why aren’t we in the car or at home where you can get those talented fingers knuckle deep in me?”

Mat groans your name and drops his forehead to your shoulder, growling a little against your overheated skin. His hands slide to your waist, gripping tightly. You grin wickedly, even though he can’t see it, and tug his hair again. “If you get me home soon, I’ll show off my skills,” you murmur into his ear, tongue darting out to trace the shell of his ear.

“Fuck,” Mat grunts, grabbing your hand and nearly yanking your shoulder out of its socket with the force of pulling you down the street to his parked car. Your giggles echo around the quiet street, the humid air enveloping you and making your hair frizz around your temples. At the car, Mat pushes you up against the side, grasping your chin in one hand and kisses you, hard and bruising, his tongue dipping in your mouth. His other hand slides up your dress and he presses his thumb against your clit, the rasp of the lace on your clit providing extra simulation. Your knees go weak and you moan into his mouth, flattening your palms against the side of the car for stability. A rush of heat floods between your legs and the longer Mat’s lips are on yours, the wetter you get. At this point you’re not sure if it’s sweat or arousal that’s dripping down the inside of your thighs. He slides his tongue over your lower lip and rubs his fingers against your damp panties again, eliciting a strangled noise from the back of your throat.

When Mat breaks the kiss, pulling back from your face and breathing heavily, you blink up at him, completely dazed and lust drunk. He kisses the tip of your nose and squeezes the inside of your thigh and you giggle, unable to stop the words from slipping out of your mouth, “are you gonna play Wonderwall before or after I get my orgasms?”

A laugh barks out of Mat’s mouth and he pinches your ass cheek, making you squeal. “Just for that, it’s gonna be before,” he laughs again, reaching behind you to pull open the passenger door. You fold into the seat, making sure to flash Mat a little before yanking the door shut and grinning at him from behind the window.

“Who’s the menace now, babe?” Mat sticks his tongue out at you, laughing, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“Still you,” you tease back, wrinkling your nose at him, knowing he’s going to be so worked up the more you poke fun at him. “Now get in the car, I’m gonna put Wonderwall on so we can get straight to the fingering practice when we get home.”

[rogertaylorshbb]

'toxic' Roger Taylor x reader

summary- you and roger get into an argument but you guys make up like 20 minutes later🤭🙄💅

swearing, light smut, mentions of alcohol. [ I have no idea why I'm adding these, just makes the fanfic look more ✨professional✨]

"okay see you tomorrow!! love you!!" you yelled out to your bestfriend Chelsie as you stepped in the door of you and rogers apartment. "finally" your heard a groan, it was roger "I've been waiting for you all night". you turned on the light to see him slouched on the couch with a bottle of vodka in his hand. "your drunk" you sighed.

"maybe" he chuckled "where were you?". "I was out at that new nightclub that opened" you smiled thinking back on it. "with who?" he questioned his words becoming more intrigued. "just Chelsie and a few other friends" you said.

"Chelsie? and what other friends" he said turning his head to you. "just...people, I'm not sure, just Chelsie's friends that she kept from high school".

"what? like guys?" he questioned "guys..?" you questioned back. "where there any guys?" he stated. "Jesus rog.." you sighed. he stood up from the couch placing the vodka bottle on the table. "what? don't 'Jesus rog' me" he said mimicking your voice. "your drunk, and I don't wanna argue, go to bed".

"are you cheating on me?" he asked. "what?!, god no!" you frustratingly told him. "don't fucking lie to me y/n, I know your cheating on me!" "no!" you yelled "I know your fucking other guys y/n" roger shouted. "how-? what- why? why would I do that huh?" you shouted back. "because your a fucking slut-" roger slurred pointing a finger at you. your heart went cold, how could he? how could he call you that?.

you tried to keep calm, "your drunk roger". "So? being drunk doesn't make me a liar" he groaned. you tried to keep in your tears. "I cant hang out with my friends for one night without being a slut?? I'm cluttered with work, all I want to do is go have fun for one night, but no, I cant have fun" you stated.

"your such an idiot" he muttered. "your the idiot!" you yelled, you took a deep breath "you know what? arguing with you is childish, I'm going to out to get bread because I forgot and then I'm going to bed, sober up or not before I get back....actually I don't care, do what you want"

roger stood there while you walked off out the door. he started to really think about what he had carelessly blurted out, and the guilt in his chest started to hurt. "fuck...I am an idiot".

you walked to the convivence store 7 minutes away, getting bread from the shelf, and walking as slow as possible back to your apartment, trying to escape the awkwardness that would be there when you walked back in.

you walked back in to see roger in the bathroom brushing his teeth. you plopped the bread on the counter stumbling into the bedroom. you took off your party dress and heels and picked out a pair of pajamas. as you were looking around in the messy clothes draws roger walked in. "get out, I'm getting dress" you huffed. "what? I'm not allowed to see you naked now?" he scoffed. "whatever" you muttered throwing on an oversized t-shirt.

"I'm not so drunk anymore" roger told you. "good" you sighed. not one of you making eye contact as you both slid into bed. the tension was killing roger. "I'm sorry" he whispered "I don't think your a slut, I was just jealous". you turned to look at him. "the truth is....im scared of losing you, just the thought of you finding someone better then me terrifies me, I don't think I can live without you"

you looked into his eyes. you were speechless, you had never heard roger say anything like that. since you had no words you just kissed him, running your fingers through his hair. roger grabbed your waist, practically dragging your body over his. his hands travelled your body, reaching over to take your t-shirt off, before he suddenly stopped "oh wait...im not allowed to see you naked anymore, guess were gonna-" he chuckled, you cut him off "oh shut up" you laughed.

you dragged the t-shirt off you continuing to kiss roger. roger cupped your breasts, massaging them, making you moan into his mouth. "where are the condoms?" you smirked. "here" roger said reaching into his drawer.

he hurriedly put it on, you started to slowly sit further on further down on his cock, not trying to muffle your moans at all when you did. "fuck I love it when you moan like that" roger smiled.

-just gonna end it there-

[freddie-mercury-rising]

This scenario came in my head a while ago and I thought I you could turn it into a real story? Sorry this request might get a bit long.

During a Queen tour in America in late 70s or early 80s, a man who idolises Freddie goes to one of their concerts and after the concert, he is summoned backstage by Freddie. It turns out that Freddie took a fancy to him and somehow realised that he was gay too.

And in the end Freddie takes the man to his hotel and they sleep together and he even stays the night.

Bonus point for bottom but dominant Freddie. And more bonus point if the man can't believe the man he idolises has taken him to bed.

One Night on Mercury

He was just a quiet, Midwestern guy. Some might have called him boring. Then, a Queen concert changed his life forever.

And one thing Lenny McAllister wasn't after that was boring.

[legendl0re]

A Court of Peace and Ire, Chapter 1: A Little Night In Spring

The full first chapter of A Court of Peace and Ire, a Tamlin healing arc fanfic featuring actual acknowledgement of wrongdoing, conversations to actually heal the divide of Prythian, with a little bit of Neris vibes and whatever else I feel like putting in here.

This is my first ever fanfic for ACOTAR and I wrote it in a feral haze, so please be gentle. Also warning, this is a Pro-Tamlin fanfic. If you're not a fan of Tamlin, scroll on. The full fic will be on AO3 once I get a damn account, but i feel this could work as a one-shot by itself.

Trigger Warnings: Slight su*c*dal ideation, depression

--

Tamlin wondered what day it was, awakening to the sun spearing into his eyes through broken slats. A huff blew through his nose, deepened and heavy by the huling shape of his bestial form. 

Having golden fur didn’t help, his pelt sucking in all the light in an auric bloom and making it difficult for him to look at himself. 

Well, more difficult…

He had stopped bothering to clamor up the steps to his own bed at night, opting to let the weight of melancholy send him huddling into the corner of his foyer. It was cold, and it bothered him, but he didn’t deserve much warmth. 

Didn’t deserve much of anything actually, beyond incessant tirades from the High Lord of the Night Court and the occasional drop off from Lucien; a friend that was wasted on him. 

The High Lord of Spring ran his long beast-tongue over his teeth; he was glad Lucien had found true friends in this so-called Band of Exiles he had formed. The name was fitting, but Tamlin hoped that Jurian and that mortal queen would treat him better than he had.

Tamlin tucked into himself more, as if to brace himself for the great mental fall into his own dread. Everyone had fled, left his service, left his side, all for the things he had done and allowed to be done on his watch. Whipped sentries, predatory priestesses, letting the devil Hybern slither through his land to poking holes in the walls, and rend Children Of the Blessed apart like crows with corpse-flesh.

Such an immense, spectacular failure would be emblazoned in the history books soon enough, and Tamlin would probably also be cursed to see it consumed and discussed by the next generation of Fae. He couldn’t starve himself, couldn’t let dehydration sap him to a husk, and every beast and briggand he had come across during the days he actually got up to patrol, were all no match for even a sliver of his magic and strength.

Such is the strength of the High Lord, especially of Spring; “blessed” to never wilt. Doomed to never die a “passive” death.

High Lord. The one thing Tamlin never wanted to be, and the thing that Rhysand and his father damned him to become.

Tamlin heard a sound of wind rumbling through leaves; the unmistakable sound of winnowing. It came from down the hall past the stairs, and the High Lord braced himself for Rhysand and more of his half hearted attempts to reach out.

And indeed, a fae did march in with dark hair and eyes of glimmering blue, but he was barely two feet tall and had a set of dark pajamas ordained with stars. Two vestigial wings peaked out from behind him, and he held a plush night-beast in his tiny hands.

Tamlin swallowed, caught somewhere between genuine curiosity and terrible dread as the boy turned and gazed at him, eyes wide as he took in the High Lord of Spring’s animal shape. 

He braced for a wail, a cry of fear at the sight of him, but it ever came. Instead, the boy smiled and made his way down the hall in a slow but resolved toddle, his intent clear as he dropped his toy to free his hands.

Out of instinct and a spark of hatred from the boy’s resemblance, Tamlin craned his neck and growled, teeth flashing in the light of day. But the boy only paused, cocked his head to the side, then kept right on walking until he was inches away.

 Either the child was too young to yet know fear, or the Illyrian in him refused to let him back down, to ignore the danger in the pursuit of his goal. And he indeed reached it, pushing his small hands against Tamlin’s muzzle and running his fingers through the fur.

At the touch, Tamlin was utterly paralyzed, save for one twinge of the nose as he sniffed the air above the boy’s head.

He knew who this was, knew it in his blood and heart and bones, the smell a mixture of a familiar pair that had melded into something new.

It was his son. 

This was Rhysand’s son…by Feyre.

The Heir to the Night Court was in Tamlin’s manor, and was fucking petting him.

--

Mother above, what did kids his age eat?

Tamlin scoured his kitchen and cabinets for something to give the kid. A vicious rumble rose from the boy’s belly after about two minutes of roving over the High Lord’s snout, but his face hadn’t lost the pout he made when Tamlin changed back into a Fae. At least he didn’t start crying, thank the gods.

Two lone jars of applesauce rested in the dark shadows of the cupboard, Tamlin picking them up and searching them for any signs of rot or wasting. Thankfully, neither was present. “Guess you’ll have to do.” 

He turned back, unscrewed the top, and gently laid the green mushed mixture across a wooden plate he fished out, topping it off with a mismatched spoon before placing it down in front of the child.

The boy glanced up at him, utterly lost to the purpose of the silverware.

“What?” Tamlin said, eyes narrowing as the part-Illyrian shoved his tiny hand into his tiny mouth. “Oh, gods. No. I’m not feeding you.” Tamlin pushed the plate closer to him, and as if intent to push his buttons, the boy pounded his hand into the sauce and scooped it into his mouth, dribbling down his chin and onto the floor.

Tamlin hadn’t cared about a clean floor for years, but somehow that got him on his feet. A rag found its way into his hands, wiping the mess from the kid’s face and hand before getting the rest off the floor. Then he remembered that he had gods-damned magic, and that he could have just made it all vanish at a whim.

He really had been out of it, hadn’t he?

The kid made to dip his fingers in the apple sauce again, the High Lord halting him and reluctantly picking up the spoon. Carefully, he caught a spoonful and brought it to the boy’s mouth, a groan bursting from his lips as the child ate, then smiled with full cheeks.

“Cauldron boil me, what am I doing?” Tamlin asked himself, even as he picked up another bite for the kid to take.

He looked so much like Rhysand, minus the cool, daylight blue of his eyes, young and wide with wonder. It reminded him of the first day she had come, how in awe she was of his manor, of the world of the fae at large…of Tamlin himself.

The High Lord caught a drop of sauce before it stained the boy’s clothes. He had to have winnowed here by accident, a consequence of his already burgeoning power. Even at his young age, Tamlin could feel it, a smoldering ember that would blaze right past both him and Rhysand once he reached adulthood . 

The fact that Tamlin had not kept up with his wards didn’t help matters either, but still, why would he have ended up here of all places? He figured Rhys would have probably spelled the boy to never come within miles of Tamlin’s Court, yet here he was: Rhys’ son.

Feyre’s son…

Something in Tamlin dropped, a heavy weight whose rope had finally snapped. He held no hope of Feyre ever returning, of there ever being some chance for reconciliation. But the presence of this boy, the manifestation of her and Rhysand’s love for one another, the finality of it was a cold shard to his heart. He should hate this boy, be doing everything in his power to banish and scare him from the manor. But then he remembered exactly whose words—whose feelings—those were. 

The echoes of his father and his brothers circled around him, telling him the boy was a grave reminder of his failures, a taunt or some kind of trap to give Rhys the excuse he needed to rip out Tamlin’s throat once and for all. 

The second he harmed a hair on his head, the High Lord of Night would come and indulge in his violent delights.

Tamlin broke from his thoughts, noticing that he had paused with the spoon just out of reach for the boy to eat. He brought it down to let the kid feast, and in time the entire bowl of applesauce was gone.

As Tamlin cleaned the bowl, his eyes lingered on the rest of the dishes, the disgusting stack that had grown from his immense negligence. He cleaned about seven more than he intended, before noticing the part-Illyrian had gotten up and began waddling, keen to collect the night-beast toy he had discarded.

Tamlin walked and sat on the step leading to the foyer, watching the kid mimic the growls and hisses of the beast in emulation.

“Your parents must be worried about you.” He said, knowing the kid wasn’t paying attention. Visions of Rhysand tearing his manors apart, soaring over the night skies in search of his son, Feyre worried sick and hunting right alongside him, bow in hand in case of any danger.

 It should have brought Tamlin comfort, to imagine them so harried, so desperate and worried and willing to do whatever it took to find him, just as he had done…

But it didn’t.

The High Lord of Spring flicked his gaze back to the boy, catching in the middle of a yawn as he exhausted himself. His  half-lidded pale blue eyes struggled to stay open, but he shuffled up and approached Tamlin at the steps, his tiny hand tugging on the high fae’s pants. Tamlin’s brow rose, unsure as to what the kid was trying to tell him, until the heir of the Night Court pushed and nuzzled his head against Tamlin’s side.

“Are you…are you ordering me to change?” The boy’s head rose, his blank stare holding save for a single blink. He was. He was asking him to turn back into his beast form so he could fucking sleeping on him!

Tamlin almost laughed. Only a toddler and he was just as indignant and entitled as Rhysand was. He had half a nerve to scoop the kid up, winnow straight into the Night Court, and drop him off right then and there.

But he didn’t.

Instead Tamlin sighed, letting himself fall back into that golden, antler-crowned form and sloping down at the base of the stairs. The boy laughed and giggled, happy to see the great beast once again, and quickly made himself comfortable laying down at Tamlin’s gilded flank. 

The High Lord waited, held still and calm until he heard the soft breaths to sleep. He inched up slightly but the boy didn’t stir. Made sense that the heir of the Night Court was a heavy sleeper. He shifted and caught the boy in a masterful flair of magic, picking him up and gently moving to stand as he thought on what to do.

Did he send a fucking missive? “Hey, your kid wandered into my mansion and I was wondering if you wanted him back.”

No. No, he would have to go himself. Have to winnow in with no notice and explain everything, and hope that the gods were kind enough to grace the Night Court with enough patience for him.

He watched the boy sleep, and sighed. This was their child; Rhys and Feyre would have no patience for any story, any excuse, especially from him.

Tamlin let the shadows of his power coil around him, praying to the Mother that the sound of winnowing wouldn’t wake the boy, and as he felt the cool bite of frosted grass under his bare feet, he opened his eyes and found the kid still asleep.

Seems the gods were kind today.

Gazing up to the massive soap-stone colored tower, Tamlin lost himself in the coiling darkness of the night above, in the quilt of stars that peered through the clouds.

He hadn’t been here in years, and he didn’t realize just how much he missed the sky here until now.

The boy stirred in his hands, reminding him of his mission, and Tamlin skulked carefully towards the back door of the yard he now realized he was in. A small quilt sat at the edge of a stone bench, and he quickly wrapped the boy in it so as to beat back the Night Court chill.

Laying him down carefully, Tamlin brushed a small curl out from his face and stood to leave, but not before noticing a set of banners and decorations through the back door’s window. Frills and starlight-colored decorations flanked a trio of Italic letters: “N, Y, X.”

“Nyx.” Tamlin repeated, smirking at the irony of it. Some kind of celebration had been had, the decorations left up for some time, either out of pure laziness or lack of time on the boy’s parents’ part. Then the door within the party room suddenly opened, swift movement sending Tamlin scuttling behind the bench.

When the sound of the back door opening never came, he peeked out, and his heart shuddered at the sight within.

Feyre, face stained and garbed in a dark sweater, stood there speaking frantically to another girl with the same colored hair; probably one of her sisters. A dirty paintbrush was nestled in the bun she had put her hair in, and it was clear she was on the verge of crying with how upset she was.

Tamlin kicked himself; he should have bought the kid back sooner. Damn the crying or the hunger or the petty revenge, or whatever strange compulsion that made him keep the boy around this long.

This was his life, and his mother was worried sick.

Tamlin’s hand dropped and picked up a small piece of gravel, arching back in preparation to tap the glass before winnowing back to the safety—and loneliness—of Spring. He only paused when a pair of sleepy blue eyes stared back up at him.

Damnit, he was awake.

The boy was putting two and two together despite the haze of slumber, sitting up and reaching out for the High Lord as he reeled back, threw the tiny stone, and winnowed out of the yard before he could even hear the tap of its landing.

Nyx, alone in the of the estate garden, began to cry.