#screaming internally and trying to play it cool

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Can you write a fanfiction/bullet points or whatever makes you comfortable of Comte comforting a crying female MC? Thank you for your time. 💙☔️

This one is a bit (a lot 🤡) late, but hopefully it still brings some belated comfort to a wounded heart. Take care!! 💜

For whatever reason anything I write for Ikevamp always becomes half found family trope hours, so please pardon the wayward premise--

Below a cut because it's long!

When I hadn't emerged from my room before noon, Sebastian knocked--three quick raps--against my door. 

I sat up in bed, setting my book aside. I'd done the bare minimum by then, thankfully: washed my face, made my bed, dressed in a nightgown with an appropriate robe for company. It was about all I could manage before deflating into a lethargic heap.

“Meli?” Curious slate eyes searched for me.

“Present,” I raised my hand, grinning sheepishly.

“Are you all right?” 

Did I look pale? My head was killing me. And it was nothing compared to the ache from the waist down.

“In a manner of speaking,” I grimaced, “I’m sorry I was MIA all morning, I’m really not feeling well.”

He marched out and returned with a First Aid kit, and I gestured with flustered hands to stop him. “Whoa whoa, not quite like that. You don’t need to bring that weapon in here.”

One sharp eyebrow arched, side eyeing me dubiously. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“Phrasing,” I scrunched my features, before sighing. “It’s uh…a particularly female problem, if you catch my drift.”

He looked like he was about to say something smart again, until understanding dawned on his face. “Oh.”

“Yeah…I’ll keep the gruesome details to myself. Could I trouble you for some soup, though? I don't think I can keep much else down.”

He smiled, closing the First Aid kit with a crisp flip of the latch. “You’ll owe me one.”

“You can lord it over me as much as you want when I don’t feel like I’m about to snap in two.”

He frowned, skeptical again. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“Oh don’t worry, every so often this stupid thing clocks me out mercilessly. It never lasts, it just sucks for the first few days.” I waved him away.

He nodded then, and I hoped the passé inflection would be enough to ease his mind.

What I didn’t expect was the entire rest of the afternoon.

“Meli?” A muffled voice came from the other side of my door about an hour later. 

Was that? “Vincent?”

“May I come in?”

“Of course,” I laughed a little at how cautious he sounded, as if Vincent could be a bother to anyone.

White blonde hair poked past the threshold, wide eyes taking me in. I laughed again, unable to help myself. “Don’t worry, I promise I’m not contagious.”

His smile waned, but he stepped inside and approached the foot of the bed. “That’s not what I’m worried about. How are you feeling?”

I couldn’t help the way my features softened. There were so few people I had ever met with such a pure heart, but sometimes it worried me. He should look after himself more. “Just fine,” I smiled easily, patting the bed to let him know he could sit if he wanted. “Is something on your mind?”

A little color found his cheeks and he shook his head, “Mm-mm, I’m glad to see you’re doing okay. I’m heading out to town today with Theo to explore some prospective venues for art displays. Would you like us to bring anything back for you?”

I was…frankly a little shocked that he thought of me. “Sure,” I grinned, “An invitation, when you’ve finalized the time and place.”

He gazed at me intently, before resolve made that baby face solidify with determination. “I promise.” He nodded once, firm.

“Even when you’re sick, you’re the only person in this house who knows how to appreciate real talent.” Theo swaggered in as if we’d conjured him by the mere mention of the display. “This is all it takes to keep you down and out, hondje?”

“Remind me to sucker punch you when I’m better.”

“I’m busy enlightening the world about the greatest artist who ever lived, remember it yourself.”

“Dat is genoeg, Theo,” Vincent glanced at him, and it made Theo sulk and look away.

I giggled, unable to help it. “Don’t worry, Vincent, I’m happy you both stopped by. Don’t let me keep you from your errands today.”

Vincent seemed to hesitate, and it was at that moment when Dazai walked right through the open door with an apologetic Napoleon behind him.

“I tried to stop him, but he was surprisingly adamant about bringing it over himself. Sebastian gave him an earful,” Napoleon snickered, “How are you holding up, noyer?”

“Like I’m going to throw up all over him,” I couldn’t help myself as they all looked at me with wide eyes, but the exaggeration didn’t fool Dazai. He continued on, unperturbed as always when he was marching to his own drum.

Everybody chuckled when they realized I was just trying to deter his enthusiasm.

“Open wide, Toshiko-chan,” Dazai crooned, trying to guide a spoonful of soup to my lips. “Say ahh--”

Theo had him in a headlock in the next few seconds, scowling fiercely. “Give it a rest, dwaas, she’s not an invalid.”

Theo hoisted him away and waved, and Dazai surprisingly left without a fuss as Vincent scolded his brother for resorting to physicalities. 

“He wasn’t the only one worried, you know,” Napoleon remarked, voice much quieter than usual--and I sensed it was because he was revealing some poorly guarded secrets. 

“Ah, I’d visit them both if I could, but I’m afraid I’m a bit compromised at the minute.”

Napoleon seemed shocked to hear this bit of news, alarm clear as he approached me and looked for the signs of harm. I suppose Sebastian didn’t go into the gory details, for once. “What…?”

I smiled broadly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be right as rain soon--enough to spar with you without a problem.”

The confidence in my expression seemed to put him at ease somewhat, retreating back an appropriate distance. “Shall I extend the good tidings, then?”

“Of course, and tell Jeanne I expect to see entries in his diary regardless of whether or not I can teach him right now.”

Napoleon shook his head, and when I shot him a curious look he just shrugged, throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Worry about yourself for the moment, noyer.”

I nodded solemnly, mock saluting, “Yes, monsieur, your will be done.”

“Well it’s good to see you have enough energy to joke, at least,” He crossed his arms, gesturing with his chin to the soup that was now at a proper temperature to consume. “Now eat before it gets cold.”

“The general,” I moaned with exaggerated woe as I reached for the bowl, “He’s relentless these days. Do you have any idea the last time I got to--”

“It’s a shame Shakespeare doesn’t have you perform for his little shows,” Napoleon was equal parts amused and exasperated as he moved to the door, “I never thought I’d meet somebody with more latent drama in their heart.”

“You really mean it?” I blinked rapidly and made doe eyes at him, and he rolled his in return.

“Get some rest, nunuche.”

When the door finally shut again I closed my eyes, willing the dull throb in my head to ease off. I tried to focus on the soup, hoping it would help me relax. It was only then that I noticed Sebastian had served it with a cold glass of oolong, and I sighed, suddenly grateful for his powers of observation. Hopefully it would help keep the food down--I didn’t want to throw up for real.

I took my time, eating slowly to thwart the nausea and stared at the ceiling. I wasn’t really expecting everyone to trickle in like that, but it was…a nice change. Back home, nobody ever knew I was sick because I didn’t tell them. I needed to work; there had been no time for rest and no safe haven to heal. I considered that for a moment, that for once I didn’t feel I had to push myself to my limits to deserve some respite. 

The empty bowl stared back at me as I finished the last spoonful, the gold flowers inlaid in the china a reminder; it seemed I had yet more to thank him for.

I was braiding my hair absently--marveling that it was long enough for that now--when a single knock sounded, more wooden even than the door. 

I found myself grinning before I could help it, “Come on in, Jeanne.” Wiry and lean, he marched inside and crossed over to my bedside, Mozart on his heels--though he looked cautious. I smiled wryly, “And welcome, Mozart. Don’t worry, I won’t get you sick--I promise.”

“As if anybody cares about that,” he sniffed, though I could see his shoulders visibly lower and I withheld laughter. 

Jeanne got up close, examining me with eyes that missed nothing. “You look pale, mademoiselle.”

“At ease, soldat. It’s an old fight, I’ll be just fine.” 

I was glad for the bravado, since it felt like my uterus was ready to pop right out of my abdomen, my entire lower half swollen.

“I still expect you to study while I’m recuperating,” I tapped his nose with the tip of my finger, and he leaned back as if he only just noticed how close he was.

Mozart sighed, “See? I told you she’d be fine. She even has enough energy to play school mistress.”

“I could play it with you too, Mozart.” I raised my brows, glancing at him. 

He threw me a disgusted look, “Don’t be ridiculous. Only you two would do something so outlandish.”

Jeanne looked unable to follow, “But Arthur said that a woman who teaches you your letters is your mistress.”

Mozart and I grimaced, in agreement here. 

“Don’t listen to Arthur.”

“Forget everything he says, in one ear out the other.”

“But…”

“Don’t forget about the shop, Jeanne, we were just stopping by.”

Jeanne’s violet eye widened, “Ah, that’s right. Be strong, mademoiselle.”

“You won’t be getting rid of me that easily.”

Mozart smirked, “Don’t we know it.”

“I’m perfectly well enough to get feathers in your hair, you silly little composer.” I lifted the pillow beside me and mimed chucking it at him.

I was stunned to see Mozart stick his pink tongue out at me, smiling as he followed Jeanne out the door.

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to say, Mozart.” I could hear Jeanne’s muffled disapproval. 

“She knows better than to believe something like that anyway.”

Warmth overflowed in my heart, and when I glanced over at my bedside table I was shocked to see that it was nearly evening; I likely had all the visits to thank for time passing so quickly.

“You still alive in here, cara mia?” The giant Italian entered without preamble, a stark and frankly hilarious contrast to the nervous Isaac behind him. 

“For you? No.”

“You always knew how to break a man’s heart.” I closed my eyes as the smell of cigarillos reached me, the rich and smoky scent oddly comforting. If it wasn’t for the fact that it would be misconstrued, I resisted the urge to ask for a hug. He could make for a decent heat pad at his size. He sat mere inches from me unceremoniously--Leonardo was never one for personal space--leaning in and evaluating me with those amber eyes. The color always made me squirm a little, conjuring their parallel image in the house every time.

“We thought we’d bring you some cake,” it was only then that I noticed Isaac was carrying a tray, chocolate cheesecake drizzled with raspberry and coated in dark chocolate adornments. “We can’t take all the credit though, Vincent and Theo brought some for everyone.”

Trust Vincent to insist on a gesture like this. So that's what his determination had been about, finding a way to offer me something without fanfare. And, well, it was no secret I loved chocolate.

I kept my eyes on my lap, willing the slight film over my vision to dry and disappear. I knew Leonardo would never let me live it down if he noticed. That's probably why he came with Isaac in the first place.

I cleared my throat a little, "Thanks for bringing it all the way here, Isaac."

Isaac fiddled with his hair, tugging on the strands shyly. "D-don't worry about it. It's the least we could do, considering all you've done for us."

I accepted the tray and settled it in my lap, taking up the fork. "I can't eat it while you stare at me, Leo."

"Oh well."

"Correction, I won't eat it if you keep staring at me."

"I'm just enjoying the rare sight. House feels strange without you stomping and bustling around. The floorboards must be awfully lonely."

"You make me sound like an elephant."

"Well--"

"All right, come here so I can cough all over you--"

"But Sebastian already told us it wasn't contagious..." Isaac interjected.

"He lied," and I was about to continue when Isaac sighed.

It suddenly occurred to me that Sebastian probably sent Isaac along to make sure we didn't argue for the rest of the night.

"You two never change," his smile was conflicted, but fond.

"Ah, sorry," I leaned back, trying to relax.

"Bickering is healthy where we come from," Leonardo guffawed.

"Oh dear, an oncoming sneeze--" I mimed reaching over to sully his sleeve.

They both lingered a little as I finished my slice, making small talk until they seemed to silently agree to let me rest and take back both trays to the kitchen. I figured I'd be turning in for the night shortly after when I heard rapid footsteps crossing the hall about an hour later. It was nearly nine o'clock, who…?

"Meli?" 

I knew that baritone anywhere, though there was an atypical urgency to his murmur.

"Come in, Comte."

There was a gust of air as the door twisted open, gold eyes zeroing in on the source of my voice. When they landed on me there was alarm clear in every line of his body, and he seemed to take a deep breath. He smiled, but something about it was wan--it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Bad day?" I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him so wrung out as he made his way over to me.

He averted his gaze to my bedside table, "Something like that." He shook his head before reaching a hand up to my forehead. 

I bit the inside of my lip to keep from leaning in, the heady scent of him distracting. All of a sudden I felt like a little kid with my favorite stuffed animal again; I just wanted to curl up against him and close my eyes.

I laughed awkwardly, "Did, um, Sebastian not tell you?"

He seemed genuinely confused. "Tell me?"

"It's ah, not exactly an 'illness', per say…"

"Then what…?"

I glanced at my lap, then looked away. 

"Oh. Oh, I see," he hefted the chair against the wall and placed it next to the bed, unhooking his tie and rubbing a thumb under his jaw. "Well that's a relief."

"That makes one of us," I grinned, unable to help myself.

I wondered if I looked as sparkly as I felt when he finally managed a small smile.

"Did you just get home?"

"I'm afraid so, I was a bit buried in meetings and errands today."

Not surprising, he had been rather busy of late. "And you raced over here? Don't be silly, you should go to your own room and rest. I've been well tended to, I promise."

There was something akin to a dry smirk on his face, and it was puzzling enough to give me pause. What did that look mean?

"Everyone’s so demoralized it nearly frightened a century of life out of me," he admitted and laughed in earnest, taking one of my hands in his own gently. Color stained my cheeks, and I cursed how it gave me away. “I had to come see for myself.”

"Drama queens," I muttered, mortified. I willed my palms not to sweat and embarrass me even further.

"It just goes to show how much they care about you," Comte offered me a pearly grin, and I couldn't manage to meet his eyes. So much for the headache going away, I could practically hear a pulse in my head just trying to make eye contact with him. "The house doesn't feel quite right without you." 

Throughout the day I'd been wracking my brain to figure out what their little visits reminded me of, and in that split second it hit me like a train. Oh my god…they were like a bunch of children worried about their sick mother. Bringing trinkets and food, looking for any opportunity to help. Even Vincent perfectly fit the role of the oldest independent son, all insistence on being the adult for the day.

I squeezed his fingers just enough to convey my meaning. "They're very sweet," I bit my tongue against the rest. Wonder where they could have gotten that from. “But really, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Comte was unmoved. Did I really look that bad? His eyes sought out mine, gazing for a long moment. Instinctively I knew he was looking for something there, and if I looked away it would only make him more anxious--but it also made me so self-conscious. 

“What can I do?” 

His quiet voice, imploring all of a sudden, startled me. “Huh?”

“Everybody seems to have beaten me to the punch today,” there was a rueful touch to his smile that I didn’t quite understand. Almost…bitter? “Anything that would make you feel better, it’s yours.”

“You don’t have to--” I hedged, embarrassed.

“I insist.” He was smiling, but I knew that tone. There was no brooking argument when he got like this.

“Can I have a moment to think? Nothing really comes to mind immediately.”

This seemed to pacify him, and he leaned back to grab his long coat, folding it over and placing it on my lap over the blankets. I smoothed the fabric over with my hands, thumbing the collar absently. What was it about everything he did that conveyed so much warmth? Like my very heart was being enfolded in care and affection. I stared at it as he poked around the book on my bedside table, content to be awash in his colors. Despite feeling terrible and exhausted beyond belief, something inside me started to unravel and relax.

When I noticed him out of my peripheral vision, I suddenly knew what I wanted to ask.

My fingers curled around the bed spread, not wanting to wrinkle his nice coat. “I think I know what I want to ask now.”

“Oh?” he looked over, setting the book aside. He gave me his full attention, and I hoped he would attribute the blush that crept into my face from the scrutiny to illness. “Let’s hear it.”

“Would you read to me? Just for a little while. And only if you want to.” The words came out haltingly, and I already regretted that I’d spoken them aloud. Christ I felt so childish, surely he would think I was ridiculous. 

There was a moment of silence, as I contemplated crawling into a hole to waste away in peace. This is exactly why periods were evil. They made me reveal things that I wouldn’t have said at gunpoint.

“...What would you like me to read?”

He was serious, expression inquisitive. I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

I hugged the pillow next to me for courage, refusing to meet his eyes. “...Would it be too childish to ask for a fairy tale?”

“Any particular one in mind?”

“...Rapunzel, if we have it.”

He nodded, “Rapunzel it is. I’ll be back shortly.”

When he was out the door on the hunt for a book of fairy tales, I shoved my face in the pillow and groaned. Well, so much for living that one down. I’d be the gossip of the mansion for the next five years let alone weeks.

I fidgeted and tried to read what I already had with me, but the pages might as well have been in another language for all that I managed to retain. I’d been interested in learning about recovered knowledge and expertise that had been lost to the ages, scouring old texts for tidbits of information and wisdom. The notepad on my bedside attested to all the curiosities I’d gathered up to that point, but the thought that I was troubling Comte was enough to leave me unable to work anything out.

Mercifully, he had returned as promised without much delay, a book on fairy tales in tow as he closed the door gingerly. When I spied the name Grimm on the spine, I laughed a little. “Good to know it’ll be a version I recognize.”

He indulged me. “I’m just glad it wasn’t buried somewhere in that mess Leonardo calls a room.”

I snickered at the jab as he removed the jacket of his suit, leaving him in his waistcoat and dress shirt. I pretended I hadn’t noticed, waiting patiently for him to start. I forgot that Sebastian had left a pitcher of water behind after he shooed Leonardo and Isaac out of the room, and I gestured to the desk across from him.

“Seb left me some water, but please help yourself.”

He poured a glass before settling in earnest, rolling his shoulders. I glanced here and there to gauge his disposition, a little perplexed. He didn’t look like he was waiting for the moment he could slip away, he looked prepared to spend the better part of the night. Surely he wouldn’t, he had more important things to attend to than me and he’d barely gotten any rest.

“Ready?” He looked to me, waiting.

I sat up straighter, “Go for it,” I prompted.

Though we started there, he ended up reading several since they were pretty short--expectation in his eyes when he looked up from the book to flip to the next one. I got caught up in his momentum all too easily, his even voice more soothing than I cared to admit. Or maybe it was the fact that I could tell he didn’t begrudge me this, or seemed to think it was silly. I was lulled and warm and comforted, which was more than I could say in nearly three decades of life. I tried to remember every little detail of the moment; the soft light of the lamps, the warmth of his coat, the gentle scent of him, the balm of his voice. Something to keep close to my heart when I’d be forced to leave his side someday and return to my own time like the stranger I was.

Tears burned in my eyes, baffling me. I swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath as surreptitiously as possible. I didn’t want to ruin this balance between us, this closely guarded secret of mine wasn’t worth making him dread coming home every day.

When we’d gone through all the ones I liked, he closed the book and set it on the bedside table. He was pensive, rubbing his palms together absently. I knew that look, so I spoke first.

“You can ask whatever it is you’re wondering,” I laughed, “I don’t mind.”

He seemed a little surprised that I’d noticed, before leaning back in his chair. “I guess I was wondering why you chose fairy tales, of all things. I did say anything you wanted.”

I covered my face with my hands, “Yeah, I know it was childish. Sorry.”

Patient hands drew mine away from my face, “That’s not what I meant.”

I shot him a dour look. "Jewelry is expensive. So are dresses."

"That's not what I meant either. Although that's an idea…"

I ignored his expectant look. “Oh,” I blinked, “Then what did you mean?"

“Why fairy tales?” His head tilted just so, trying to find answers in my impassive face as he gestured to the book on my bedside table.

“Well,” My eyes darted away, nervous. “It’s not really a short answer, and you’ve probably heard it before. I don’t want to bore you.”

“Would you tell me, all the same?”

Usually he’d be the type to change the subject and take the discordant note in stride, content to play smooth conversationalist. I wondered briefly what brought this on, but I didn’t have much time since he was looking for an answer. I tried to gather my thoughts.

“Fairy tales are the written--and in many cases--oral manifestations of human feeling and imagination.” I sat up a little, “They were told by the fireside, in sewing circles, to children who asked too many questions, whether appropriate or inopportune.” I gazed at the back of my hands, the faded burn that marred my left one. There was more grief in my smile than I would have liked, but I was too tired to entirely disguise what I was feeling. “Happy endings are afforded in situations where they seem unlikely and impossible. Justice exists and culls the selfishness of others. In some ways, they are time capsules of hope; buried, only to be found again by the weary in similar situations of entrapment or despair.”

“Sometimes they feel like a hand reached out across the ages, promising that we aren’t alone, not really. I guess it’s a nice feeling, to know that I’m not the only one who likes to dream.” 

It was only when I realized that the outline of his coat in my lap was indistinguishable, voice wobbly, that I scrubbed at my eyes with my sleeve. Stupid, I always spoke too much around him. He was quiet and still for a long time.

“But then, I have a bad habit of wanting things to make sense more than I probably should.” I shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. “They’re just stories, at the end of the day. Just a way to keep the mind occupied.”

He took the book back into his hands, gazing at it with different eyes. “I think that’s a beautiful way to think about it,” His fingers traced the embellished cover, still shining nearly a hundred years since it was published. "And very like you.”

“W-well, it’s just one way to think about it. Most people would probably say it’s a stretch.”

“I don’t think it is.” Even though I couldn’t meet his gaze, somehow I could tell his eyes were tender as they lingered on me. I was just relieved for the lack of disgust.

After that he stood up, gathering his suit jacket over his arm. “I suppose it’s time we allowed you to get some proper rest,” he leaned over to brush a kiss against my forehead. “I’ll make sure everyone keeps out until you’re feeling well, other than Sebastian. They don’t seem to be able to help themselves.”

I was entirely distracted by that split second of warmth against my forehead, lamenting how quickly it faded. Joy bubbled up in an endless cascade, and I tried to conceal how sated and giddy I felt on the inside. He was halfway across the room before I could manage to speak again.

“I was pretty surprised, I was so sure the sound of plague would send Mozart running for the hills.”

“I can think of very little that would keep us away, plague or not.” He chuckled, and shook his head as he reached for the door handle. “Rest well, Meli.”

“Good night, Comte.”

I was so lovestruck I didn’t notice he’d left his long coat behind, with me. I brushed my teeth and turned out the lights, pretending to get ready for bed--but really, I wanted enough time to pass to know for certain that he wasn’t coming back for it. Content to know it was mine for the night, I hugged the folded parcel close to my chest, sighing. If being by his side was out of my reach, then it was enough to know he cared.

[toshkakoshka]

been playing with the idea of the fact aether and lumine are millions (if not even an infinitesmal) of years old and its got me thinking about them having kids. like surely the worlds theyve been in have in fact brought them to having lovers and eventually kids??? and who knows how many lifetimes theyve lived through just to be with them…

also including: trans twins! so aether has definitely been pregnant enough times to be very used to the childbirth pain… when he has his children in teyvat, he’s completely silent throughout the birthgiving, which would shock his partner lmfao…

[prismbearer]

Feana: No Fear. Totally cool with losing everything I have ever known and becoming totally unrecognizable to who and what I was in the past.

Feana: One Fear.

[ode2rin]

new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)

You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior. 

And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.

Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.

Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.

Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself. 

He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.

The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any. 

There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.

“Are we… alright?” he drawled.

What the fuck. He did not just sound like that. 

He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.

Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.

“Okay, Rin.”

That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?

“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.

You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)

“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”

“You so are!” 

“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”

There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.

“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”

“Not to you, it’s not!”

A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting. 

Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”

“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.

With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.” 

“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.

“I’m not childish.”

“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”

Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.

“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind. 

“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit. 

They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.

He was now something more, something special.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.

It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for. 

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you. 

It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim. 

You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.

Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”

“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.

note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.

[nouverx]

A very specific idea/scenario I have about Alastor's sleeping habits

He barely even sleeps in the first place. He sleeps like only a few hours a week, in one go. He locks himself up in his room once a week, sleeps for 4 hours straight and that's it. And since he doesn't sleep much, each time he does he falls into a deep slumber and it's absolutely impossible to wake him up he's straight up passed out until he gets fully recharged.

He does this because the idea of being in a vulnerable position where anyone could do anything to him while he's completely defenseless is too unsettling for him, so he sleeps as little as he can and always makes sure he's locked up first, away from everyone else's eyes.

HOWEVER, one time he's playing cards with the rest of the hotel, and because he got unconsciously so comfortable around them, he accidently falls asleep on the couch during the game. Everyone is shocked because they didn't even know he actually needed to sleep (they always hear him walk around the hotel humming at night like an absolute creep so they just all collectively assumed he didn't need to sleep).

Charlie panicks a little because nothing seems to wake him up, but he's still breathing and seems fine, eventually they all just let him sleep there and keep on going with their card games since the noise doesn't seem to bother him. Charlie even put a blanket on him, and Angel initially wants to draw something on his face as a prank but in the end everyone agrees not to try anything like this, because who knows how the radio demon would react,,, could be dangerous.

A few hours later Alastor finally wakes up, immediately understands what happened and plays it cool like "Oh dear, looks like I passed out, too bad I couldn't finish the game :) oopsie" but internally he's SCREAMING

EDIT: greykolla was faster than me and made a comic about it it's so so good 😭 crying

[littl3sp4rkly4ngel]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ ── 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭… 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲’𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬

summary ; abby, her pretty arms and you…

content warning ; fem!reader x abby anderson, SFW part: lots of fluff, petnames, established relationship. NSFW part, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT: strap usage (r receiving), cunnilingus (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), pet names, kinda choking, kinda size kink (reader’s size not specified!), strenght kink (?,

author’s note ; totally got inspired by this post from @cssiel, go show some love!! <3

palestine & tlou click to support palestine

𝐒𝐅𝐖

★ we can all agree abby has the juiciest arms… i mean, just look at those pics!!

★ so i really picture her feeling so so confident when your eyes stay fixed on those bulky veiny sexy arms for just a little too long…….

★ she absolutely loves it when you kiss her, but when you kiss her arms??? she feels like she’s about to melt.

★ when the two of you go out, she always makes sure you’re by her side. she either has her arm around your shoulders or your arms are intertwined.

★ whenever your arms are hooked with hers you feel like she’s about to crush your hand if she clenches her bycep… and you both love it!!!

★ your favourite activities with her arms include tying bows, doodling on them or trying to kiss all her freckles!!

★ “what are you doing, pretty girl?” abby laughed when she saw you cutting a piece of pink ribbon. “i want to try something, pleeease…” you beg clasping your hands together.

★ when you finished tying the bow she just giggled and patted your head, “you’re adorable.” she muttered, playing it cool (she was internally screaming how much she loved you).

★ the doodling became a thing when you two were hanging out in your room, abby was reading a book and you were sketching some stuff. your girlfriend started missing your touch (even tho you were lying by her side), so she threw her arm over your shoulders and kissed the side of your head.

★ that’s when you looked down at her arm and an amazing idea came to you, “stay still, abs!” you grinned as you grabbed your pen and started drawing little hearts and starts on her forearm.

★ since that day, whenever you’re bored you draw some doodles on abby’s arms and she ADORES IT.

★ and well, another thing abby loves is when you bite her arm… she thinks it’s so cute and reminds her of an animal marking their territory!!

★ so yeah…. abby’s arms !!!! ♡

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 (+𝟏𝟖)

★ she loves wrapping her arm around your neck as she hits it from the back with her strap. had to say it.

★ tbh, we all know she’s a big teddy bear, but i truly believe that changes when she remembers that she could easily crush you…. her pussy gets so wet thinking about it…

★ when you guys need to be quiet, she tells you to bite her arms so you can keep your noises down and she lives for it. “you need to keep your voice down, baby…” she starts, “open your mouth, pretty girl, and bite down.” as she puts her forearm in front of your mouth.

★ let’s not forget about the way she separates your legs with her big hands and how she holds them still with her arms when she eats you out like a starved woman…

★ “stop trying to close your legs, baby, you already know it’s not happening.” she mutters while kissing your thighs.

★ abby loves to finger you while she spoons you and wraps her arms around your waist, she feels so good being so close to you, the intimacy makes her heart beat faster and her fingers go deeper…

★ ugh… i need her so bad…

[tcfactory]

Okay, we all know that Shang Qinghua (Airplane) can't fight well, but consider:

A year before the scheduled demon invasion Sha Hualing was sneaking around the northern demons' castle during a diplomatic whatever and stole something from Mobei-jun's room that she would eventually use to get into Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. An emergency token that can let Mobei through the wards if his teleportation fails or something, it's a nonsense bauble Shang Qinghua literally put there for Sha Hualing to steal.

But Mobei-jun is both pissed at Sha Hualing now and justifiably worried that his spy would die if the Sha clan attacks the sect. So he gets the wonderful idea to whip Shang Qinghua into shape until he can hold his own!

And Shang Qinghua can't say that he knows when the demon invasion is going to be and he plans to be elsewhere, so Airplane bro gets to experience the worst training montage ever. It works, for what it's worth. It was never his lack of potential holding Shang Qinghua back, it was his different priorities.

He also uses his new focus on his cultivation to get permission to cultivate in Lingxi caves just before the invasion, so he can step in and save Liu Qingge's life (may or may not be necessary, depending if it's Shen Jiu or Shen Yuan, it works for both).

Then the day of the invasion rolls around and Shang Qinghua still planned on sneaking away, but Mobei-jun got it in his head that he wants to see the results of all that training, so Shang Qinghua is not sitting it out, no matter how much he wants to. Luo Binghe won't even get to fight, the third match is Shang Qinghua against Elder Sky Hammer and it's woefully one-sided. Shang Qinghua is feeling a little good about himself even! So not worth all the suffering he was put through to get to this point, but being strong kinda rocks.

But then Sky Hammer tries to take him down with him anyway and Mobei-jun steps in, all tall, dark and looming and uses his ice to cordon off the demon invaders. "You have stolen something that's mine, little brat."

He ends up chasing Sha Hualing's gang off in a deadly hail of black ice before Liu Qingge can even get on the scene and Shang Qinghua is fine. He's fine, he's unharmed and he's internally screaming because that was too close and his king is so cool, but also wtf Mobei-jun why are you out in the open?!?!!

He can. Somehow make it work? It really does help smooth things over that Mobei-jun just potentially saved a lot of lives. Makes it easier to convince people that Mobei-jun is Shang Qinghua's friend and he can be a really good ally, like, do you want this power on your side or as an enemy? Mobei-jun plays along because he realizes that this will give him free access to the Sect and an easier time to coordinate with Shang Qinghua. And hey, maybe he gets to spar with Liu Qingge and Yue Qingyuan every now and then, that's a really nice bonus actually!

Which is to say, Mobei-jun becomes a regular fixture at the sect and spends enough time there that someone will notice his very awkward crush on Shang Qinghua and sets him straight about human courtship customs. At which point it all transitions into a wacky romcom where half of An Ding is trying to discourage him and the other half is actively supplying him with questionable dating advice, all the while the rest of the sect is taking bets about how long until either they get together, or the whole thing crashes and burns. It's a fun time either way.

[ju1cyfru1t]

Hello. I read a few of your scenarios for the Rise boys and really liked them. So, I decided to sent in my wok request.

Could you do something for the four brothers (separately) where they react to their s/o calling them their husband. Like s/o is on the phone and reverse to the turtle as their husband. Like not directly to them but they still hear it.

If I didn’t describe it well enough you could look up ‚calling my bf husband to see his reaction‘ on TikTok they’re really cute and funny.

And the gender of the reader is up to you, I don’t really care.

your wish is my command 🧞‍♀️ AND THANK YOU <3

ROTTMNT x Fem! Reader

reader accidentally calls him her husband

Rise! Leo, Mikey, Raph, Donnie x Fem! Reader (separately)

fluff! :D fem!reader, romantic

It’s Pizza night at the lair! :D….like almost every other night.

You offered to call in to order the pizza for them. How kind. To be honest, he wasn’t really listening until you said something that really caught his attention.

“Yes, thank you. and my husband would like-“

Leo

- internally screaming but tries to play it cool

- if there’s anyone who’s gonna make you regret even opening your mouth it’s this mf

- cocky bitch, but is polite enough (I guess) to wait until you’re off the phone to say anything

- OBVIOUSLY now he’s gonna call you wifey

- “HUSBAND? I mean, Husband, huh? I knew you liked me, but not THAT much~” STFU

- def laid awake that night thinking about it tho

- is never going to let you forget this

- “please, allow your husband.”

Mikey

- externally screaming

- you got him running laps 🏃‍♀️

- considered getting down on one knee right there 💍

- Immediately is all over you; peppering your face with kisses, his arms wrapped around you

- he is squeezing the life out of you he was so happy to hear you say that

- you cannot tell me he isn’t 100% convinced you’ll be together for the rest of your lives anyways

- but to hear you say it like that??? he just finds you so precious

- “ y/n you’re so cute!” “Michael hold on! I’m still on the phone-“

Raph

- took him a minute to process

- wait him??? your HUSBAND???

- I mean…he didn’t mind that sound of that.

- man is already thinking of his vows 👰‍♂️ JK

- is surprised for a moment, but just lets himself be happy. he is a bit embarrassed tho

- daydreams your wedding now

- might accidentally call you his wife now too 🧍‍♀️

- “guys, remember my wife said in- I MEAN, Y/N. Y/N SAID- I MEANT Y/N-“

- Leo is rolling on the floor laughing, Donnie is slightly horrified

- Mikey is your flower girl

Donnie

- almost snaps his neck to whip around and look at you

- Flabbergasted and also a little afraid

- Honestly hoping he heard you wrong; That’s a big commitment

- Don’t get me wrong; it’s not that he isn’t committed he just doesn’t know how to feel about MARRIAGE

- probably had to excuse himself for a moment to really process (might have went to his lab to scream)

- would try to go on normally like it never happened, but it’s definitely burned into the back of his mind for a long time after that

[doumadono]

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

Itto

Itto would morph into a blushing tomato before he could muster the guts to ask for a kiss from you. His usual carefree swagger would crumble into a nervous wreck, and his words would stumble out like they were trying to navigate a maze of shyness. It looked as if his hand might quake with the sheer force of his own bashfulness.

“Y/N, can I...” he'd falter, the hesitation hanging in the air like a dramatic pause in a play.

“What's on your mind, Arataki?” you would inquire, catching on to his internal struggle.

Despite his attempts to play it cool, Itto's infatuation would be practically screaming. His eyes would linger on the curve of your lips, and the subtle, unintentional act of moistening his own would give away the unspoken desire within him.

But when the kiss finally happened, it would be nothing short of a tender delight. Itto would revel in the simplicity of a soft peck, as if it could light up his entire existence. The shy encounter would be etched into his memory, a moment frozen in time, but now, he'd carry it like a cocky badge of honor.

As the sweet exchange concluded, Arataki, now brimming with newfound swagger, would seize the moment to intertwine his fingers with yours, as if to say, "Well, that wasn't so tough, now was it?"

Wriothesley

Wriothesley, being the smooth gentleman he is, always manages to charm you into saying yes when he craves a little pick-me-up kiss. He's got this super sweet approach, especially when the weight of work stress is bearing down on him.

Sometimes, he'll straight-up ask, all sweet and innocent, "Y/N, my little sweetpie, could you give me a kiss?"

But then there are those times when subtlety is thrown out the window. Wriothesley would casually grab you by the waist when there's even a hint of an opportunity, pulling you close against his broad chest with a confident whisper, "Come and kiss daddy, babygirl."

And oh, those kisses! They're like an addiction you willingly succumb to. Sometimes, he's in the mood for a bit of teasing – a swift lick of your bottom lip, a taste that's enough to recharge his energy, leaving you slightly breathless and craving more.

Neuvilette

You remain appreciative that he confines these moments to the privacy of our home or when solitude envelops you.

Whenever the inclination to kiss strikes, his approach is marked by a profound passion, and the duration extends beyond mere seconds. It's as though he seeks to savor every nuance of your being.

When he needs it, he'll watch you intently for a while, whether engaged in scrutinizing others or engrossed in a case. Then, with a politeness that conceals a subtle demand, he would utter, "Kiss me, my love."

His lips, when they meet yours, carry the faint taste of candy. It leads you to ponder whether he perennially indulges in this confection, given the persistently sweet flavor that lingers in his mouth.

Zhongli

Zhongli, unapologetically, never shies away from asserting his desires, regardless of the setting. His kisses, a blend of demand and tenderness, are a testament to the assertive nature of the Geo Archon. In moments when he craves proximity, he doesn't hesitate to make his intentions known.

"Y/N, I want a kiss from you," he commands, the weight of his voice carrying a subtle dominance, a declaration of his desires that brooks no opposition. His hands, steady and firm, find their place at your waist, claiming it as if sculpting the very essence of intimacy.

Zhongli's kisses unfold with deliberate slowness, a deliberate dance that brushes his lips against yours in unhurried motions. The demand in his kiss, paired with the gentle exploration, creates a harmonious balance that reflects both his dominance and the depth of his affection.

Your compliance to his requests is wholehearted, a testament to your fondness for each and every one of his kisses. The unspoken understanding between you two only deepens the connection, allowing the echoes of Zhongli's dominance to resonate in the intimate moments you share.

Kaveh

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Kaveh beckons you with a sing-song voice, his lips playfully pouting as he calls, "Baby, come give me a kissy kissy, yeah?" Persistent and unyielding, he brushes off any attempt to decline, challenging you with a raised eyebrow and a daring smirk.

Refusing him is not an option, for Kaveh always presses on. He questions your love for him, provocatively asking if he's lost his touch as a kisser.

When it comes to stealing sweet moments, Kaveh doesn't shy away. He's not afraid to snatch a taste of any candy you hold between your lips. And as he leans back, a sassy smirk plays on his face, leaving no doubt about the intensity and seriousness he invests in each stolen kiss. "Mmm, sweetie, that was the sweetest kiss you've ever offered me!"

[cherryredlove]

☆ pluck my strings ☆

Modern!au Goth! Aemond Targaryen x reader SMUT

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Recently you've decided to pick up a new hobby, and you've always fancied learning the bass guitar. After picking up the basics on a shitty one you find in a charity shop, you bite the bullet and buy a gorgeous sleek black bass from facebook market. Hopefully the guy you buy from isn't a creep.

Word Count: 2.2k

Themes: smuuut, 18+, rough p in v, dacryphilia, creampie, alcohol consumption, lots of fluff tho!

Reader is implied to be vaguely (the extent is up to u ofc) punk with nipple piercings - drawn from personal experience ;)

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The stale coffee aroma clung to the corners of your favourite neighbourhood café as you scrolled through FB Marketplace, halfheartedly browsing for a bass guitar that wouldn’t cost you an arm and a leg. After learning the basics on the cheap, battered bass you found at a charity shop last month, you finally decided it was time for an upgrade. FB was usually full of shit you lamented internally, sipping a hot mocha in Celtigar Coffee.

Amid the endless sea of overpriced instruments, you stumbled upon a sleek black bass with a gloss finish that caught your eye immediately. You smiled, smitten, at the sight of a black cat next to the bass. The listing promised it had “good vibes and great sound,” and judging by the photos, it looked like it had been well cared for. Alas, the cat wasn't for sale. You clicked on the seller’s profile, and your interest piqued even more.

Aemond Targaryen was his name. His profile picture revealed a strikingly handsome young man, heavily tattooed, with one icy-blue eye that seemed to stare right through the screen and a black leather eyepatch covering the other eye. He was effortlessly cool and goth: black leather jacket, piercings, and a smirk that screamed confidence. Against your better judgment (curse your friend Dyana for scaring you with stranger danger), you shot him a message expressing interest in the bass. Within minutes, he replied.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

You took a deep breath as you stood outside Aemond’s apartment complex, the cash for the bass tucked safely in your wallet. The building was impressive: old brick, with ivy climbing up its sides, slightly crumbly but in a chic antique way. Your heart thrummed with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. You’d always heard horror stories about buying things off the internet, but you needed a sick bass, and Aemond seemed cool enough. You tried to dissuade the lick of warmth you felt inside when you glanced at his picture again.

After a short elevator ride and a quick knock, the door swung open, revealing Aemond in the flesh. He was even more striking in person, his silver hair contrasting sharply against his black jeans and t-shirt. Traditional style tattoos snaked down his arms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt. You swallowed thickly at his heavily muscled arms that flexed as he held the door.

“You must be (Y/N),” he said, his voice smooth and inviting. “Come on in.”

The apartment was exactly what you’d expect from someone like Aemond. Dark and moody, with walls adorned in gothic artwork and grungy band posters. A state-of-the-art sound system took up one corner, and an impressive collection of vinyl records lined a bookshelf.

“Wow, this place is... awesome,” you said, trying to play it cool as you looked around.

“Thanks. I like to keep things interesting,” Aemond replied with a small grin. “The bass is over here.”

He led you to a stand where the sleek black bass rested next to three more basses and guitars. Up close, it was even more beautiful than in the pictures. You ran your fingers along its neck, feeling the smoothness of the wood. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and you could already imagine the kind of sound it would produce.

“Go ahead, give it a try,” Aemond encouraged, handing you a cable to plug into the amp nearby.

You slung the strap over your shoulder, letting the bass rest against your body. As you played a few notes, the room filled with a deep, rich sound that resonated perfectly. It felt right—like this bass was meant for you. You grinned at Aemond who clapped lightly.

“You’ve got a good ear,” Aemond said, watching you play. “Most people can’t appreciate quality like this.”

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a rush of satisfaction at his compliment. “I’ll take it.”

You were interrupted by a loud meow. Looking down, a black cat with big moon-like eyes was staring up at you, nose twitching.

"This is Vhagar," Aemond scooped up the kitty and gave her a head kiss. Vhagar meowed approvingly. You reached out to give her a pet and she purred. Aemond seemed extremely pleased at Vhagar's apparent approval of you.

Distracted by the fluffy cutie, you handed over the cash once Aemond had put Vhagar down, and Aemond carefully counted it before nodding. As you packed the bass into its case, he surprised you with a question.

“So, what are your plans for tonight?” he asked, casually leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on you. You noticed he swallowed hard after he asked.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, not much. Why?”

“There’s this club, The Dragon Pit. It’s got a decent alternative scene. Thought you might want to check it out.” You flushed at the surprise. You'd heard of The Dragon Pit. It was pretty legendary in King's Landing.

The offer was unexpected, but there was something undeniably intriguing about him. You’d come here for a bass and found yourself tempted by the idea of a night out with a stranger who seemed anything but ordinary.

“Alright, sure,” you agreed, trying to hide your excitement. “I could use a good night out.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The Dragon Pit was everything Aemond had promised and more. A former warehouse turned music venue, it thrummed with energy as local bands played their hearts out on stage. The crowd was a mix of goths, punks, and metalheads, each in their element, dancing and drinking heavily.

Aemond had secured a prime spot near the stage, and you found yourself getting lost in the music with him. The bassline pulsed through the air, vibrating deep in your chest. It was easy to lose yourself in the rhythm, the heavy riffs drowning out any lingering doubts you’d had earlier. You both sang along and danced together, grasping each others hands and laughing breathlessly, buzzed from several bottles of Asshai beer.

“I didn’t peg you for a punk, thought you'd be a pure goth,” you said, leaning closer to Aemond so he could hear you over the music.

He shrugged, his eyes glinting mischievously. “I’m full of surprises.”

As the night wore on, drinks flowed freely, and the initial awkwardness from his flat between you dissolved into easy conversation and laughter. Aemond’s charm was magnetic, his wit sharp and engaging. You learned that he was a musician himself, dabbling in various instruments and playing in a band called Valyrian Steel with his brothers, sister and their friend that occasionally headlined at the club.

As the band played its final song, the adrenaline of the night combined with the alcohol in your system left you feeling bold. You caught Aemond’s gaze, the charged atmosphere between you undeniable. He leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You melted into his manly hands that held your cheeks.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice low and inviting.

Your heart raced at the implication, but you didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, let’s go.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Back at Aemond’s apartment, the air was thick and heavy. Your heart thrummed harder than the music you'd been listening to. The door barely closed behind you before you found yourself against it, Aemond’s lips crashing onto yours. His kiss was electric, filled with urgency and passion, as if he’d been waiting all night to do this.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his hair as he deepened the kiss. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer, leaving no space between you.

Your pussy ignited at his deepened kiss, feeling his hands massage your ass and pull you closer to him. You gasped as he cocked his muscled thigh between your legs, pressing against your tender pussy. You rocked yourself onto him, sparks electrifying your sex.

“Bedroom?” you whispered between kisses, your voice barely more than a breathless plea.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with want. “This way.”

He led you down a dimly lit hallway to his bedroom, where candles flickered, casting soft shadows across the walls. The bed was invitingly unmade, the sheets black, of course, as if it had been waiting for this moment.

Aemond’s touch was gentle yet insistent as he guided you to the bed, his fingers deftly removing your shirt and jeans before he captured your lips again. You reciprocated, helping him out of his jacket and shirt, revealing more of the intricate tattoos that covered his body. He'd kicked off his boots long ago, and stood naked before you, appreciating your nearly nude form with eager hands.

You traced your fingers over the ink. He shivered under your touch, a soft groan escaping him as he pressed against you, guiding you back onto the bed.

He snapped your lacy red bra off at the back. You thanked the Gods you'd worn nice underwear today. His eyebrows raised high at the sight of your pierced nipples, cute little silver bars through them.

"Aren't you full of surprises, little slut," his voice was dark and warm. You gasped at the name, flushing, pussy slick. He flicked his tongue over your perked tits, grinding his hardened cock against your thigh.

You reached down to grasp him, earning a strangled type of whimper from Aemond. He bit down hard on your neck as you tugged him, using his precum to lube up your hand.

"Gods, Aemond, touch me, please!" You begged breathlessly. He laughed richly, pulling down your panties, and lowered his head to your delicious heat.

Your eyes rolled back to your head as his firm and pointed tongue lapped up your juices, sucking insistently on your needy clit. He rutted his hips against the bed, neck flushing as his arousal became uncontrollable. You were lost in the pleasure, wound up from hours of dancing and eye-fucking Aemond. Tears welled up in your eyes as how brutally good it felt to have Aemond between your legs, eating your pussy like it was his last meal. He moaned darkly at the sight of your wet eyes, newfound vigour making you lurch up into sitting and clench your thighs around his skull.

"Aemond! Oh!" You cried out, feeling a hot orgasm blossom inside. The warm fire licked your pussy, legs shaking and Aemond gently supped your cream as you came down from the high.

The orgasm did nothing to abate your lust for him. Your pussy felt painfully empty, and you stared at his long, thick cock as he nudged your pussy lips open.

"Ready, my girl?" He asked, breathless. You nodded, eyes wide, throwing your head back as he thrusted in, stretching you as your mouth fell open in a soundless moan.

Aemond was relentless, pounding you hard and fast, deeply reaching the sweetest spot inside your pussy. He swiped your tears of pleasure away, grinning through pants, and hoisted your legs up over his shoulders.

You drooled over his toned abs and pecs, scratching your nails into his muscles as he kneaded your tits leisurely. His hips snapped up in the most perfect way. Leaning a hand down, he rubbed your clit urgently.

"I'm on birth control!" You gasped out, suddenly remembering. Aemond's eye was fired up, throwing his head back and grinning down at you.

"Oh, my girl, I'm going to fill you up, make you feel so good. No other cock can make this little tight pussy feel so good." He rasped. You nodded, whimpering, feeling that unstoppable heat crawl up in your pussy again.

Mewling desperately and digging your nails into his arms, you orgasmed hard on his cock, squirting over his balls and feeling weightless as the pleasure took over your body. Aemond moaned at how you squeezed him, cumming hard and filling your pussy up with ropes of hot, thick cum. Your pussy felt thoroughly fucked and stuffed full of cream. He collapsed on top of you.

You both lay panting for what felt like forever.

Aemond gingerly got up to clean the pair of you, then nestled back under the cover, clutching you tightly in his thick arms.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

As dawn crept through the windows, you found yourself rested against him, your head lying on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The realization that you’d spent the night with a pretty much stranger didn’t feel as daunting as you’d expected. Instead, it felt oddly comforting.

“You know,” Aemond murmured, breaking the comfortable silence, “I had a really good time last night.”

You smiled against his skin, feeling a sense of contentment you hadn’t anticipated. “Guess we’re a good match then.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lazily along your arm. “I’d say so," he looked into your eyes. "Want to grab breakfast with me?

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: if you've read my other hotd modern aus, can u see the world building I'm doing? lol if u like the sound of valyrian steel, then i might have a treat for you soon 🍒 ofc send any feedback and requests and check my masterlist for more xx

[sharkboywrites]

Wait, This Is a Date!?

Riddle, Idia, and Malleus with an autistic reader who didn't realize they were on a date

Male/gn reader, autistic reader, missed signals, Idia is implied to also be autistic

A/N: I've noticed that some people aren't very obvious when asking someone out or generally establishing their feelings. I actually realized that one of my ex-friends stopped being friends with me because I wasn't picking up on their signals, what's up with people lmao

One afternoon after you had finished all of your classes, your closest "friend" approached you looking rather nervous and asked you to accompany them later. Seeing this as just a request to hang out was friends, you accepted. When he suddenly thanks you for going on a date with him halfway through your activity your caught off guard.

"Wait, this is a date!?"

Riddle Rosehearts

Oh boy, be prepared to start apologizing because the once surprised look on his face at your sudden outburst melted to one of pure sadness. He was absolutely dejected

He took this as you rejecting him halfway through the date he put so much effort into

He even baked all the pastries for your little tea party date :(

He cleared his throat and straightened his posture. He put on a serious face despite clearly being on the verge of tears, and apologized for... making you uncomfortable? Wasting your time?

Well that wasn't what you wanted

In another quick outburst you cut him off and say that you didn't actually mean it in a negative way

You started doing the usual over-explaining hoping that he wouldn't get the wrong idea (more than he already had) and apologizing for not getting his signals

The relief he felt in that moment was something he doesn't think he can compare to anything else in his life

He actually started crying for the fact that "oh thank the sevens they're not rejecting me"

After he calmed down the two of you went back to your tea party date, although both of you aware aware that it was a date this time

bonus: Trey and Cater screaming internally after watching all of that from afar (They'd be there for Riddle's first date as emotional support you can't convince me otherwise)

Idia Shroud

Lord have mercy you're going to kill him

It took him so much to build up the courage Ortho blackmailing him to come over and play video games just for you to not know he was asking you on a date???

He played Stardew Valley with you what could be more romantic than that???

He kinda just sits there and stares at you

He's processing give him a minute

Literally the only response he gives you is just a "Uhh..yeah. Duh." (he's trying to not give away how disappointed he is)

And in you just respond with an "Oh."

Awkward level 100%

After sitting there for a few seconds rocking back and forth to make yourself a little more comfortable, you take a deep breath and lean your head on his shoulder

"Well I like this date."

He tries to hide his flustered face after that, but you can see the tips of his hair turn a soft pink in contrast to the usual blue

He really is bad at hiding his emotions

for the rest of the night the two of you keep playing video games together, and you eventually fall asleep on him, which he freaks out about but tries not to wake you up

Really just two autistics trying to figure out how to date and flirt

Malleus Draconia

So funny thing

He thought the two of you were a couple long before the two of you went on your "first date"

You know that thing on tiktok that's like "check with your autistic s/o that they know your dating because it turns out I've been dating someone for months and had no clue" Yeah that's the two of you

In his eyes it was established that the two of you had been dating. He probably confessed in his old poetic fae way of talking.

So he was just like "You are the sunrise to my day, the cool breeze on a summers day, the blood in my veins." and you were just like "Yep me and my good ol' pal Malleus. besties :)"

What do you mean friends don't give each other little trinkets they find pretty? What to you mean that's fae courting?

What do you mean friends aren't that affectionate? What do you mean friends don't hold hands, hug, and tell each other how much they appreciate them?

Honestly when you burst out with the question, he just laughs after a minute while you sit there flustered and confused

he has to sit you down and explain to you that you've both been dating for at least three months by this point. Lilia was even starting to ask him if he was going to ask you to marry him (he's impatient)

He does make sure that you're okay with this relationship and that you actually want to date him

After this you're relationship grows even stronger rather than growing weaker, he thinks it's endearing

He'll make sure to be more forward and literal with you from now on

if I'm being honest all three of them give me "autistic just not diagnosed yet" vibes. Ty for reading and have a nice day

[swiftalchemy]

Only Bought This Dress So You Could Take It Off

Taylor Swift x fem!reader smut

warnings: smut, oral(r!receiving), fingering(r!receiving), thigh/knee riding(r!receiving), fem!reader

summary: Taylor wasn't expecting you at her show, as you had dinner planned with your parents. But, in a turn of events when your dad gets the flu, you buy a dress to surprise her with at her concert. After that, she can't keep her hands off you.

word count: 4.2k

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

Taylor frolicked around the stage, her body boneless as she flowed like wind. It was muscle memory at this point, the way she moved. 

You weren’t meant to show up at tonight's show, you had a dinner with your family, since she was touring in your hometown. But, your dad got the flu earlier this morning, so they cancelled on you and said they’d arrange something soon. So, without telling Taylor, you bid her goodbye, telling her you were meeting up for dinner, when you went shopping.

Your eyes scanned the racks, trying to decide on a dress for tonight's show. Finally, one caught your eye, a dark red one. Red was Taylor’s favourite colour, and as soon as you tried it on, you knew she would love it. You bought the dress, went home to get ready, and headed straight to her concert. 

You knew she was about an hour in already, and when you showed up, they let you into the VIP tent. 

Taylor was halfway through a song, one that was an earlier release, and from a previous album. As she went on, singing as she swayed back and forth, she scanned the stage and saw you in the VIP tent. Her eyes lit up.

She had to keep her cool, but she was screaming internally, ecstatic to see you there. She sang the words to you, a smile present on her face, a soft light blush appearing on her cheeks.

She kept going as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but every time she got a chance, she would look over at you, grinning every time. She even messed up a few times, giggling a bit at herself every time she glanced back at you and caught your eye.

She tried to be subtle, but her movements were a bit more exaggerated, the way she moved her hips being more obvious now. She knew that every movement, every wink, every sway, was driving you absolutely insane.

She wrapped up the song soon, breathing heavily. It was the last song of the night, and she was still riding the high from the start to finish. She was still a little out of breath from moving on the stage.

"Thank you guys for coming out tonight, you guys are so amazing."

The band played and gave it their very all as her and all her backup dancers and singers exited the stage for their final time tonight.

As soon as it hit the very second she walked backstage, her breathing steadied, her face flushed from the adrenaline. She took a few seconds to regain herself after all the excitement, and she saw you waiting.

Taylor's eyes widened when she saw you, her heart fluttering as she saw the state you were in. Not only were you already perfect, but in the dress you had picked, she could barely keep herself from screaming and jumping on you right then and there.

“What are you doing here!” she shrieked in excitement as she ran over towards you, wrapping her arms around your neck.

She held you tight, pressing her body into yours as she buried herself in you. She looked down at the dress you were wearing, her lips parting. She was struggling to keep her breath steady as she took in the sight of you, her hands gently moving to your hips.

“You look…” she breathed, licking her lips as her eyes raked your body. Taylor was biting her lip already, trying to contain herself. “You look so good, you know I love you in red.” Her hand slid across your chest, her fingers trailing down to your hips. 

“Hmm why thank you…” you responded to her, interlocking your fingers with hers.

“I have half a mind to drag you to the nearest closet and show you just how much I love this dress.” she purred, her chest just inches from yours, her body flush against you.

“Well, we can’t have you doing that, can we?” you giggle to her “How about you get all packed up for the night, and we’ll go back to the hotel, yeah?” you propose the idea.

She sighs, knowing you’ve got a point, but can’t help feeling like a spoiled child when you tell her no. “Fineeee.” She drags out the syllable in such a dramatic fashion, before she steps away from you, giving you the perfect view of her from behind, as she starts to pack her things up into her bag.

As she stuffs her things away, Taylor turns to look at you, her eyes once again falling upon the dress. Her heart fluttered. After a few moments, she was done packing, her bag in one her as she took you by the hand.

As soon as she pulled you close to her, she was gripping your hips, her eyes moving from your lips to your eyes, over and over again, her thoughts clouded with you.

“Let’s goooo” you say in a sing-song like voice, tugging her hand towards the exit. As you two made your way out from underneath the stage, the remaining crowds in the stands cheered. She gave them a wave and a sweet smile, thanking them once again for coming to her show. You two ran towards the car, fingers intertwined, as you leaped into the backseat.

Taylor was sitting as close as she could get to you, her body pressed against yours. She kept a tight grip on your hand, her thumb running over your knuckles. It was obvious that she was still struggling to keep her breathing steady, the excitement from the show, and her desire for you, clearly still consuming her.

She leaned her head on your shoulder, her breath hot on your skin as she nuzzled into your neck, a soft whimper escaping her lips. One of her hands slipped around your waist, sliding up and down, gently caressing your hip, her legs crossing over one another as she tried to distract herself.

“It’s only a few minutes, Tay…” you attempt to sooth her.

She groaned in annoyance at your words, even though she knew they were true. She was never very good with patience, and she always got worked up like this after a show, this was no different.

“A few minutes is forever when I just want to get you alone.” she whined, her hand gripping your hip a bit tighter.

She gently pressed open mouthed kisses to your collarbone and neck, as best she could while moving in the car, her breathing hot and ragged. She wasn’t thinking straight right now, all she could think about was the feeling of your body against hers, and how badly she just wanted to be with you.

“Tay…” you breathlessly say out as the driver pulls into the hotel where you two are staying.

As soon as your car comes to a stop, Taylor is throwing the door open. She gives the driver a quick thank you, before she’s grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the car with her, her pace quick as she practically drags you through the lobby and into the elevator.

The elevator seems to move slower than normal, and Taylor’s patience is growing shorter and shorter with each passing second. Her hand is gripping yours hard, her eyes trained on you. She’s biting her lip again, the elevator ride suddenly seeming like an unbearable wait for her. “Come on, come on…” she mumbles under her breath, the elevator’s speed not nearly fast enough for her right now.

As soon as the elevator doors open, Taylor is practically pulling you out into the hallway and towards your room. She has the key ready, fumbling with the door for a few moments, before it finally opens, and she's pulling you into the room with her, shutting the door behind her with a thud.

As soon as the door closes, she’s already on you, shoving you up against the door, her arms on either side of you, pinning you in place. Her breathing is harsh and ragged, her eyes raking up and down your body, taking in every last inch of you in that dress.

“Did you buy this just for me?”

“Only bought it so you could take it off,” you tease with a shrug of your shoulders, referencing a lyric of hers.

Taylor’s lips parted, her gaze darkening as she took in your words. A smirk appeared on her face, and she moved forward, her body pressing up against yours. Her hand found your hip, grasping at the red fabric of the dress, her hand slowly gliding up and down your body.

“Oh, I’m gonna do a lot more than just take it off.”

She leaned in close, her mouth hovering just millimeters from yours, her hand gripping your hip hard enough to dig her nails into you. “I’m gonna ruin this dress.” She whispered, her eyes falling on your lips, her own mouth curling into a smirk.

Without another word, her mouth was on yours, hungrily. It was like she couldn’t get enough of you, like she couldn’t get you close enough. The kiss was needy and messy, a clear sign of how badly she wanted you right now. Her body was pressed flush against yours, her tongue sliding over your lip desperately.

Her hands slid up and down your body, her fingers digging into your skin, desperate for the feeling of flesh on flesh. She’s letting out little whimpers into the kiss, her body flush against yours, her hips grinding against you subtly, the action an attempt to relieve some of the need building in her body.

She finally pulls away, her breathing heavy, her eyes darting all over your face, taking in every inch of you. Her hands keep moving, running down your sides, fingers slipping under the dress to gently caress your thighs. Her voice is low and shaky when she finally speaks.

“You have no idea how insane you drive me, how much I need you right now.”

“Well I’m not exactly saying no, am I?”

Taylor groans, her lips finding your neck, kissing the sensitive skin. Her fingers curled tighter into the fabric of the dress as her mouth works down your neck, leaving little marks here and there. She bites down just enough to get a soft moan out of you, gently sucking the spot she just bit to make a mark.

Taylor grabs your hand, yanking you off the door, and pulls you over towards the bed. She pushes you down, the backs of your knees meeting the edge of the bed as your legs give way, and she straddles you, her hands running down your body.

She leans down, her mouth by your ear, and her hands continue to trail down, moving to the hem of the dress. She’s tracing the edge of it with her fingertips, a smirk on her face.

She’s taking her time, knowing full well how much it’s driving you crazy. Every touch of her hands feels like fire against you, the way her fingers just gently graze your skin sending a shiver up your body. She’s taking her time, and she likes it.

“God, this dress is too gorgeous on you.” she purrs, her hands slowly inching the dress up your thighs.

“I knew you’d like it…” you reply breathlessly.

She smiles, her hands gently gripping your thighs, her eyes trailing up the length of your body, admiring every inch of the dress.

“You always look amazing, but this…” she trails off, her voice shaky as she tries to find the words.

“This is driving me crazy.”

She’s slowly moving her hands up, the dress gathering around your waist. Her mouth is at your neck, kissing and biting the skin, her tongue working its way over you.

Taylor's fingers toy with the edges of lace panties she finds there, her hips grinding down into you subtly. Her lips find their way to yours again, her tongue slipping into your mouth as her hands continue to wander.

She can tell how badly you want her, how much you need her, but she wants to get you even more worked up. She takes her time, slowly moving the dress up your body just enough to expose your torso, her hands gently caressing the newly exposed skin.

“You’re so good to me, I need you so bad right now.” she murmurs into your neck, another small bite to the sensitive skin.

You hum intently into the kiss, feeling her everywhere, “Please,” you plead for her to do something. Anything.

Taylor’s hands grip your hips hard when you plead to her, her fingers digging into the bare skin, leaving red marks behind. Her breathing hitches, your begging getting to her just as expected.

“Please what?” she murmurs, her lips by your ear.

“You know exactly what.” you groan in frustration.

A soft chuckle escapes her lips as she hears your plea. She’s enjoying every second of this, the way you're begging for her, desperate for her to touch you. She knows exactly what you need, but she wants you to beg for it even more. She wants to drag this out.

"I want to hear you say it."

“Please touch me, Tay” you ask her.

Taylor's eyes darkened as the words left your lips. Her breath was heavy, her body flush against yours, her own need for you growing almost unbearable. She wanted to tease you some more, keep you on the edge, but when you begged her, she knew she couldn’t keep this up.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” she whispered, her mouth crashing into yours once more, hungrily.

Her hands slid up your body, sliding under the dress before her hand found its way to your chest, a gasp escaping your lips as her thumb ran over your hard nipple. 

Taylor was moving quickly now, knowing how desperate you were for her. She didn't want to make you wait any longer, not when she could hear the need in your voice, the way you were begging for her.

She pulled the dress up over your head and tossed it aside, her eyes immediately taking in the sight of you in nothing but lace panties and her favorite color.

“You look so pretty in red.” she murmured, her eyes roaming over you, taking in every inch of your body. Her hands found their way back to your inner thighs, her fingernails grazing the skin delicately.

She pressed her body flush against yours, one of her legs sliding between yours, her knee pressing up against you. She leaned down to whisper into your ear, her breath hot against your skin.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

“Oh, fuck…” you slightly moan as her knee presses against you, the much needed friction hitting you in the right place.

You nod frantically, “Yes, Taylor, please…” you respond to her.

A soft hum vibrates through her throat as she hears your words, hearing you needing her so badly was almost too much. Her mouth finds your neck, making her way down to your shoulder, her own breathing growing heavier.

“I love it when you ask so nicely.” She whispered against your skin, her knee pressing up even harder, making sure to get the perfect angle to make you moan for her.

She’s moving her mouth all over you, kissing and nipping at your skin, leaving a trail of red marks behind. Her hands are moving with her mouth, her soft fingers dancing over your body, making you shiver.

Taylor’s knee is pressing up even more, desperate to hear more of those little moans escape your lips, wanting to hear just how bad you need her as badly as she needs you right now.

“Fuck, Tay” you whimper out, “Do more, please. Stop teasing.”

Taylor’s eyes darkened, hearing you beg for her to do more, to stop teasing you. How could she refuse when you were pleading for her like that, she didn’t want either of you to wait anymore.

“You want me to stop teasing?” she practically purred, her knee pressing against you even more, just to hear that cute little whimper out of you again before she finally gave in to your pleads.

She pushed you down even further onto the bed, her body leaning over yours, her hips slowly grinding down into you. She leaned down to your ear again, her hot breath falling over your skin as she began to speak, her voice low and hoarse.

“You want me to touch you? You want me to make you feel good?” her hand was running its way up your thigh again, higher and higher with each passing moment.

“Yeah…” you almost plead.

Taylor’s hand slips between your legs, her fingers playing gently over the lace of your panties, barely touching you. She’s just toying with you right now, hearing your pleading moans and whimpers, loving the way you’re under her, like you’re just at her mercy completely.

“Is this what you want?” she practically whispered against the skin of your neck, nipping it gently.

“Mhm…” you react to her touch.

Taylor’s touch gets a bit rougher, still gently tracing the edge of your lace panties, the thin fabric the only thing keeping her from touching you the way you really want her to, the way you’re practically begging her to do.

She loves seeing you like this, pleading for her, under her, completely at her mercy. Her hand finally slides underneath the lace, her fingers gliding gently over your skin, hearing the little whimpers as she teases you.

Her teeth graze your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin, her tongue leaving little chills against you. Her fingers are working against you now, slipping through your slick folds, rubbing and pressing all the right places.

She loves being the cause of these soft little sounds, the moans and whimpers, the way your body is pressed against hers, writhing under her every touch. She can hear how badly you need her, and she’s just taking her time with you, enjoying how much she’s driving you crazy right now.

Her fingers press up against your clit, her touch rougher now, wanting to hear how much her touch is affecting you, hearing your little whimpers and moans.

Taylor’s watching every single reaction you make. The little gasps, the way your body is arching up into her touch, the way you’re moaning her name, she loves it. She loves seeing you come undone under her, it’s one of her favorite things. She’s relentless with her touch, her fingers rubbing and pressing against that sensitive little bud, desperate to make you come apart completely for her.

One of her fingers dips to trace your gaping hole, preparing you before slowly pushing one in. She curls it, hitting your wall just right.

You can practically feel her smile against your neck as she hears the sounds she’s pulling out of you. She loves hearing you moan for her, beg for her, the way you’re practically falling apart from her touch, how you’re practically at her mercy. You’re just exactly where she wanted you.

She slowly slides a second finger into you, her mouth gently nipping and sucking at your neck, her pace fast and deliberate, wanting you to get closer and closer.

“Shit!” you gasp as she adds the second finger, rutting your hips up into her hand, almost fucking yourself onto her.

Your little gasp and the way you grind your hips against her hand are almost too much for Taylor as her own body is aching, wanting to touch you everywhere, but she’s too focused on the way you’re falling apart for her right now.

“You like that?” she murmurs against your neck, her fingers curling and pumping into you, wanting to hear you moan for her more, needing to hear your pleading words.

“Yeah… you’re too good- fuck… to me, baby.”

Taylor’s lips find yours again, hungrily, kissing you fiercely as her fingers keep moving, pumping into you perfectly. She wants to make you feel good, she loves hearing how good she’s making you feel. The little gasps that are escaping your lips are just perfect to her.

She pulls her lips from your, her mouth by your ear as she whispered, “You’re all mine,” her fingers picking up the pace, wanting to hear you come undone for her.

Her head removes itself from your head, moving down your body. She reaches your panties, already pulled to the side, as she kitten licks your clit.

Taylor's tongue is working over you quickly, wanting to hear those moans and gasps fall from your lips. Her tongue knows just how to get you going.

Taylor’s grip on your thighs get tighter as she hears you moaning her name, loving just how good she’s making you feel. She’s working over your clit, her tongue hitting every sensitive place that makes your hips jerk up into her mouth.

She removes her mouth for a second, spitting on your pussy, then coming down and licking a flat stripe upon it. She flicks her tongue for a few seconds before puckering her mouth and sucking on your clit.

Taylor knows all of your weak spots, how to get you to fall completely to pieces with her tongue working over you, your moans and gasps growing louder by the second.

You hand darts out as you intertwine your fingers in her golden hair. Your hips rock against her fingers working inside of you and her mouth on your pussy, desperate to come.

Your fingers in her hair are sending tingles down Taylor’s spine, she loves how much you’re needing them everywhere on you right now, how you’re holding on to her, like you can’t get enough of her hands. She can hear you, she’s taking you right to the edge.

She can hear your breathing getting heavier, almost faster, the little whimpers and gasps escaping your lips between moans of her name, and it’s all she needs. She’s right there with you, so close to the edge, and all she needs is to hear you fall apart for her.

“Oh, fuck! Tay I’m so, so, so close! Please don’t stop! Don’t stop!” you pathetically whine out.

Taylor’s head dives back down between your legs, not stopping for anything. Her tongue is working over you, wanting to hear you come apart, needing to hear you come apart.

The grip of your fingers in her hair is getting tighter, and she can tell you’re right there, on the very edge, about to fall over, and she’s desperate to hear it, she’s desperate to hear her name falling from your lips as you come.

“Holy shit I’m gonna come…” you whip your head back and squeeze your eyes shut, her pace on you continuing to be relentless.

All Taylor can hear now is the sound of you moaning her name, desperate, pleading for her to continue as you’re right on the edge, about to come. Her pace is picking up, her hand gripped tight around your thighs, your legs beginning to shake just a little under her touch. She can hear you growing louder, the sound of her name falling from your lips just so beautiful to her.

“Tay!” you scream as you feel your legs start to shake more aggressively, your orgasm overtaking you.

Taylor’s eyes dart up to watch you fall apart. The sound of her name leaving your lips as you come is absolutely perfect to her, hearing and seeing just how good she’s made you feel, how the pleasure is overtaking you. You sound so beautiful like this, she loves every second of it. She slows down her fingers, still keeping her mouth on you, wanting to get every last moan she can out of you before she finally pulls away.

She’s gently kissing your inner thighs as she feels your body shaking, feeling the aftershocks as you slowly come down from your orgasm. She gently pulls her fingers from you, her lips making their way back up your body, leaving a trail of gentle kisses against your skin as she moves upward.

“Oh, fuck…” you say breathlessly, coming down.

Taylor's smiling against the skin of your neck with your words, still planting soft kisses all over your body. Her fingers trace delicately along your skin, feeling the way you shudder slightly with her touch. She's so happy knowing how good she's made you feel, she loves hearing you still trying to catch your breath.

Her lips finally reach yours, gently capturing them in a kiss, soft and sweet. Her hands are still on your skin, pulling your body closer to hers. She pulls away for a moment, her forehead resting against yours, her eyes closed, a soft smile on her face.

She’s enjoying this, being tangled up with you, just feeling you against her. There’s no rush, no need to do anything more right now. She’s happy just laying here with you, her fingers tracing circles lightly on your back, taking in the moment.

“So…” she starts, “You only bought the dress for me to take it off?"

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | 10

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 10: Flat Tire

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 6.9k+ (nice)

Tags / Warnings: reader pov, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship, angst, food & eating, blackout, movie references, car problems, alcohol & alcoholism, 12-step programs, lying, conflict avoidance, crying crying crying sorry, internal conflict, monologue, toxic relationships but listen we're tryna get better, journal entries, nightmares, ptsd, flashback

Notes: WHAT UP PARTY PEOPLE?? MAKE SOME NOIIIISE (insert dallas buyers club matthew mcconaughey scream crying in his car). Sorry for being a bummer lol sometimes growth hurts but we're gonna get thru this I swear. Ok thank u let me know what you think!!!

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ][ My Masterlist ]

-----

Blackouts work like magic. 

One second you’re perched on a barstool, trying not to sway or slur your words while ordering another drink, and the next you’re jolted awake by the thud of a door closing. 

Heart pounding in your chest, you sit up and look around, breathing a sigh of relief to see you somehow made it to your bedroom last night. 

You grab your phone off the side table, swiping away the missed calls from Frankie and Leah, then discover that you apparently re-downloaded a dating app in your alcohol-induced fugue state. Judging by the number of reply messages in your inbox, you must have hit up every man in the tri-county area who was “looking for a good time.”

Perfect. Of course you did. Why wouldn’t you? Bad decisions and dick has never ever steered you wrong. 

You read one typo-filled exchange between yourself and Russ K, 34, before deactivating the account and uninstalling the app. 

When you set your phone back on the nightstand, you notice a mason jar filled with ice water and frown. Beside it sits a small plastic container holding four neon orange tablets and two white tablets. A sticky note on the table reads ‘Went to a meeting, be back this afternoon’ in Frankie’s handwriting. 

Alarm trickles through your veins and inspires a wave of nausea you can’t ignore. Clasping your hand over your mouth to hold down the rising bile, you jump out of bed and beeline to the bathroom. 

After emptying the sparse contents of your stomach into the toilet, you lean back against the cool tile wall and search the ceiling for answers. How did you get home last night? Did you say anything to Frankie? 

You think about the ice water and over-the-counter pills left on your nightstand, then think about the note Frankie left. However you got home, he must know you were hammered. Which means you definitely interacted with him while blacked out. Do you even want to know what you said to him? 

Mortification twists your stomach when you imagine the possibilities. You could have tried to fuck him or murder him or anything in between. Given how you feel about him right now, it’s impossible to predict. That fact alone makes your mouth start to sweat again. 

So… no, you don’t want to know what you said to him when you were drunk. You don’t want to know how you got home or why the fuck your hair is damp. All you want is to get through this fucking day without hurling again. Maybe greasy food and a NASCAR nap, too. 

With this new clear goal in mind, you pick yourself up off the bathroom floor and set about making your low-stakes dream a reality. 

—

You wake on the couch to the soothing lull of commentators giving a play-by-play of the Rays versus Yankees game. A thick web of fatigue clings to you, fighting against your efforts to open your eyes and sit upright. 

“Hey.” 

Instinctively, you look towards the noise at the other end of the couch, locking eyes with Frankie. His face droops with this wounded expression that gets under your skin. Diverting your gaze to the TV, you cross your arms and try to keep your demeanor aloof despite the deep ache in your chest. 

“How are you feeling?” 

You choke out a humorless laugh and shake your head, keeping your eyes trained on the screen. A few tense seconds go by before he accepts that you will not be answering his ludicrous question, so he takes an alternative approach. 

“I brought home cubanos from that place you like. For, um… for family dinner. If you still wanted to do that.” 

Home, he says, as if the word meant something to him. As if he didn’t match every brick you laid in the foundation of this relationship with paper mache blocks. As if he didn’t take a wrecking ball to whole fucking thing regardless. 

Maybe to him home is just a place he rests his head at night, not where he anchors his heart. A matter of physical location rather than a feeling. You, on the other hand… never felt quite at home in this house until he started living here. 

Are you crazy for having felt like that? Like home was a space you held with him and him alone? 

Your parents were right. You make too much of things. You’re overdramatic. 

Why would he love you? Why would he choose you over his wife? You knew what you were getting into when this started. 

Stupid girl. 

“I understand if you don’t want to, though.” 

His voice brings you back to yourself. You blink hot tears from your eyes, then wipe them from your cheeks, trying to hold yourself together despite the whisper of ‘stupid girl stupid girl stupid girl’ at the back of your head. 

“Can we… can we at least talk about it?” 

You wince as a fresh batch of tears surges up your throat. Rising to your feet, you shake your head and manage to choke out, “Just forget it,” before fleeing to your bedroom. 

—

I slept most of the day yesterday so it took me forever to fall asleep. Also Frankie was walking around the house all night. At 11ish, I heard him talking on the phone, then I think someone picked him up. I texted him to see where he went because I’m unfortunately still his designated person. He said he was with someone from AA and he’d be back soon, just needed to talk. I couldn’t fall asleep until I heard him come in at 1. He wasn’t stumbling around so I’m guessing he was sober??? Hopefully he was. I don’t want this to get in the way of his recovery. Which I sort of hate. I wish I could delete the feelings I have for him. I wish I didn’t care. But I guess I do, so… I don’t know. This fucking sucks. Leah said I should kick him out, but I don’t want to fuck up his program. Maybe I’ll talk to Ralph today and see what he thinks. The thing is… the more people I talk to, the more I just want to talk to Frankie. Nobody makes me feel like he does. More than the lies, this is what bothers me the most. The fact that I can feel this way and he just doesn’t. I don’t understand how he can’t feel it, too. I thought this was real. But I guess I always do. I guess he’s just a really good liar and I am just a stupid girl. 

Tossing the notebook aside, you sit up to grab your mug off the side table. Wisps of steam rise from the coffee and dissolve into the air. The image blurs as a thick, wretched sensation twists up your throat. 

God fucking damnit. 

Every time you think you have no more tears left to cry, you prove yourself wrong. They just keep coming. Yesterday you waded in and out of these sudden fits where crying was all you could do. It reminds you of all the other times he broke your heart, but especially the last time. 

After Angie caught the two of you fucking, part of you hoped that maybe she would leave him. From what you understand, though, he convinced her to stay. Called you a mistake. An ‘isolated incident’ or whatever. Fucking asshole. 

Anyway. 

Seeing each other became logistically and emotionally difficult. Participating in an affair is much easier when it’s still a secret, for obvious reasons. He tried to see you when he could, which wasn’t nearly as frequent as you wanted. When you did see him, he was drunk. You’d pick him up from the bar, or he’d come over after Angie went to bed, but he was always at least five drinks in and counting. 

You bailed him out of jail twice in those six months. Once for drinking and driving, once for getting in a fight over a fucking pool game, of all things. 

He seemed so walled-off from you, too. Like he detached from his emotions when he saw you. Maybe it was because of the liquor, but a million other reasons are just as likely. After sex, he would leave. The sex was… well, it was still good, but… different. Rougher, impersonal. It felt less like making love and more like fucking. 

You still loved him, though. You still had fantasies of having a real, normal relationship with him. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, you still wanted to believe that he was meant to be with you. 

Stupid girl stupid girl stupid girl

And then, well… 

Your phone starts to ring. It’s Ralph. 

You take a few quick sips of your coffee, then set the mug aside to answer. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, kiddo. Do you have a minute?” 

His tone, less jovial than normal, gives you a small burst of anxious energy.

“Sure, what’s up?” 

“I just got off the phone Mr. Morales and he briefed me on the, ahhh… situation over there.” 

Unsure what to say, you fold an arm over your belly and stare down at your lap. 

“I understand that things are a bit tense due to an incident that occurred on Saturday, is that correct?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, voice wavering, “Yeah, I, um… I overheard him talking to Angie, and… well, basically I found out he’s been lying to me.” 

It sounds so pathetic when you say it out loud. 

“Uh-huh. He lied about the nature of his relationship with Mrs. Morales.” 

“Correct.” 

You prepare for Ralph to tell you it’s not a big deal. Brace yourself for the inevitable scoff, or for him to accuse you of overreacting. 

So he lied to you, so what? You knew who he was. You knew he had a family to keep together. You should have known better than to get involved with him. Stupid girl, why would you put yourself in that position in the first place? 

“And this isn’t the first time he lied to you about this particular matter, am I understanding correctly?” 

“Well…” you frown and shake your head, “No, not really. When we were together before, he was pretty explicit that he wouldn’t leave her. I just… I just thought… I don’t know. It’s dumb. I’m fucking dumb.” 

Ralph doesn’t respond right away, so you add, “Sorry. I’m still in my feelings.” 

“Don’t sweat it, I think I’m picking up what you’re putting down,” he pauses here to clear his throat, then recounts, “Before, he told you leaving her wasn’t a possibility. And despite my warning going into this, the two of you re-established your romantic relationship, he told you that kind of relationship was effectively over with his wife. Which wasn’t true.” 

“Correct.” 

“Ok. Got it. Has Mr. Morales exhibited any unusual or suspicious behavior since the incident on Saturday?”

After thinking about it, you tell him, “I wouldn’t call this suspicious exactly, but yesterday he left a note saying he was going to an AA meeting, which isn’t normal. And late last night someone picked him up. I texted him to check in and he said he was with someone from AA, talking.” 

“Do you believe he was being truthful?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you shrug, “I mean, I’m obviously not the best at detecting his bullshit, but I’ve seen him under the influence more times than I can count and he didn’t seem… like that.” 

“Well, that’s good. And it’s good you checked in with him, I take that as a positive. You are still responsible for him while he’s on parole.” He sighs, “Which brings me to my next question. Are you thinking you want to continue serving as his designated person, or should we start looking for alternatives?” 

A lump rises in your throat. You swallow it down, wincing at the tears that burn behind your eyes, “I, um… I’m not sure yet. Can I have a few days to think it over?” 

“Sure. How about this. Why don’t you take some time, maybe go to one of those Al-Anon meetings I told you about, and I can stop by Saturday to have a sit down with you and Mr. Morales. Does that sound agreeable?” 

“Ok,” you nod, “Yeah, that sounds good. We can do that.”

“Alrighty then. I’ll shoot you an email with some details sometime today and we’ll go from there.” 

“Thanks, Ralph.” 

“Call me if anything comes up, ok kiddo?” 

“Will do.” 

After hanging up, you put in a load of laundry and wander around the house, stopping by the fridge to stare at the cubano Frankie brought home for you yesterday. You roll your eyes with annoyance as you grab it, then you return to the couch and put on Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. 

—

By the time Frankie comes home, you’re four feature films deep in your angsty post-breakup movie marathon and feeling indignant enough not to surrender the common space to him. 

His eyebrows do this little surprised jump when your eyes meet his, and he glances at the TV, “Reality Bites?” 

You don’t respond, just curl deeper into the couch and return your attention to Ethan Hawke’s spiteful cover of Add It Up.

He kicks off his work boots and walks into the kitchen, coming back a minute later to ask, “If I make something for dinner, will you eat it?” 

Your stomach rumbles at the thought of food. Without looking at him, you shrug. 

Accepting the non-verbal answer, Frankie returns to the kitchen and starts bumbling around, cussing and grumbling under his breath. Eventually, though, he seems to get the hang of it. 

Just as the end credits of Reality Bites start rolling, he enters the living room holding two plates and sets one on the coffee table for you, then takes a seat at the opposite end of the couch. 

You sit up, crossing your legs as you pull the offering into your lap, and toss the remote control to his side of the dividing cushion. He wordlessly searches for something else to watch while you study the avocado-filled hot dog buns. 

“What is this?” you ask. 

“Completo. Hot dog topped with good shit, basically. Avocado, tomato, onion, condiments.” He selects play on Moulin Rouge, then looks at you and shrugs, “Ma would make it for me when I had a bad day.” 

You stare at him for a moment, then roll your eyes and shake your head as you turn to the TV, “I see what you’re doing.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Kissing my ass.” 

He chuckles, shifting a little, “Yeah, well… yeah.” 

The movie starts to play. You don’t mention that this will be the second time you’ve seen it today because he probably knows that. After taking a bite of the completo, you hum at the mix of flavors and textures as you chew. 

“Good, right?” Frankie says through a mouthful. 

“Mmm,” you nod in agreement. 

He swallows, glancing between you and his food before asking, “Can I ask why you haven’t kicked me out yet?”

When you contemplate how to answer, the reasons all snarl into a tight knot of which you can’t quite make heads or tails. 

“No.” 

“Fair enough,” he murmurs, letting his gaze linger on you, “Do you want me to give you some privacy, or…? Because I can go—” 

“It doesn’t matter, Francisco, just stop talking.” 

“Ok, but—” 

You hold your hand up to him, “Shhhhhh.”

He sighs, but accepts the silence. Tension resides in the air at first, but slowly dissipates as you clear your plates, then settle into the couch. And although your eyes stay trained on the screen, you can’t make yourself pay attention. 

You keep wondering why he lied about being with Angie. He’s never had a problem making that clear in the past, even if it meant breaking your heart. Is it because he lives with you? It’s possible he didn’t want to risk getting kicked out, so he kept it a secret. 

Then why get involved with you again? Did he think this was the best way to stay in your good graces? Has he been manipulating you this whole time? 

It’s possible. It’s also possible you’re another one of his bad habits he can’t kick. A coping mechanism. Disposable, like always. 

You remember the night you asked him to come over so you could talk to him about something important. He promised to be there at eight o’clock, which is when you planted yourself on the front porch swing to wait for him. At nine o’clock, his truck came rumbling down the street and parked in front of the house. 

“What’re you doing out here?” he smirked as he climbed the porch steps. 

“Waiting for you,” you glared at him, observing his fluid movements when he plopped down beside you.

“I went and got a drink, lost track of time.” 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew your stiff body closer to kiss your cheek.

Something hot flared in your chest, and you distinctly remember wishing he would show up sober for once. This wasn’t the scab you wanted to pick, though. 

He tilted your chin up, pressing his lips to yours, breath heavy with whiskey, then pulled back to frown at your lackluster response. His body swayed a little as he studied you, “What?” 

“I need to talk to you.” 

“Ok,” he leaned away from you with a scoff, “Well, I’m here. Talk to me. Tell me how I fucked up this time.” 

You winced, “Don’t do that.” 

Crossing his arms, he stared at you, all fucking wobbly and drunk, irritation folding his facial features. He shrugged, “Do what?” 

“That! You’re being an asshole.” 

“Oh, I’m being an asshole?” he mocked, “How’s that?” 

Rage simmered beneath your skin. You let out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking your head as tears pooled in your eyes. After taking a moment to gather yourself, you spit out, “Do you love me?” 

“Do I—?” he furrowed his brow like he didn’t understand, shifting in his seat, “Do I love you?” 

“Yes, Frankie. Do you fucking love me or not?” 

His indignation melted. Shoulders slumping, gaze going soft. He swallowed hard and looked out at the street as if searching for an escape hatch. Emergency brake. Make it stop. 

“Because I love you. I’ve been in love with you for so long… and-and I still don’t know what the fuck I am to you.” 

He seemed frozen, staring at something a million miles away without sparing a reaction. 

Nine months later, you can still feel the frantic vibration of your bones when you moved closer and cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. When his eyes met yours, they were so cold and vacant that you barely recognized him. You tried to get through anyway. 

“I need you right now, Frankie. But I need all of you. I can’t be on the back burner anymore. I need you to be with me or I need to let you go.” 

“You know I can’t do that. I can’t be with you, not like that.” 

“But you could, though. You could. We could do this, we could make it work, start a life together—”

“I won’t leave her,” he shook his head, “I have a family—goddamnit, you knew what this was when it started.”

You sobbed, letting your hands fall away from his face, and his eyelids fluttered with the ghost of an emotion that you didn’t understand. 

He started, “I don’t—” then paused, tapping his clamped lips. His bloodshot eyes flicked around the porch and settled a million miles away again, “I don’t love you.” 

With this declaration, he took his chisel to you, lined it up in just the right spot, and gave it one firm tap. You crumbled at his feet. Shattered into dust. 

He got up and drove off while you were still bawling on the front porch swing. 

Onscreen, Toulouse-Lautrec shouts, “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return!” 

It hits you square in the chest. 

With tears brimming your eyelids, you jump up and flee to your bedroom before he can see them. 

—

Terrible nights sleep. Every time I drifted off, I was in the bedroom at my parents house but it wasn’t in my parents house. He was there but he wasn’t there. I don’t know how to explain it. I felt his presence but knew it wasn't him. I kept my eyes closed because I was scared to see, but I could hear him getting closer and closer. When I opened my eyes I woke up. The feeling stuck to me. It took me forever to fall back asleep and when I did it started over. 

Frankie didn’t go to work this morning. I don’t think he slept well either. Heard him walking around all night again. Idk if I should ask him what his deal is. I don’t want to talk to him about it yet and he’ll probably try to do that. Which is weird for him. A year ago I’d give anything for him to open up like he’s been trying to. But it hurts too much right now. It’s so messy. I’m all tangled. I need to straighten myself out before talking about it. 

I think I’m going to an al-anon meeting today and I’m nervous. Not sure what to expect. Keep worrying they’ll tell me I don’t belong there or make me talk about him. I don’t know if I belong there. I don’t know if I belong anywhere. 

Pulling back from your notebook, you stare at the last sentence for a while before closing the cover and setting it on the end table. 

Frankie walks out from his bedroom and rounds the corner to the living room, looking suspiciously formal, wearing slacks and a white dress shirt. His dark curls have been combed into a neat side part. It even looks like he trimmed his facial hair. 

As he peeks through the front window curtains, you blurt, “Are you wearing a fucking tie?” 

He looks surprised to hear you speak, raising his eyebrows as he glances down at himself, then up at you, “Yeah. I have a uhhh… a deposition today.” 

“Is that good or bad?” 

“Not really either. It’s normal, I guess. They’re just asking me questions on the record.” 

Nodding, you study his nervous demeanor, watching him reflexively go to lift his hat, faltering a little before running his fingers through his hair anyway. 

A desire to comfort him trickles through you, extinguishing the glowing embers of contempt inside your chest. 

“How is the case going, do you know?” 

The corner of his mouth pulls back into a kind of grimace. He takes another peek out the window, then steps back and shrugs as he approaches the couch, “The lawyer says they’ll probably offer a plea deal once this is over. We’ll see what that looks like.” He sits down at the other end of the couch, pulling out his phone to keep an eye on the little car on his rideshare app, ��He thinks maybe they could agree to a reduced sentence.” 

You pick at your frayed cuticles, holding your tongue for as long as you can before asking, “How are you doing with… everything?” 

When you glance at him, his face is crooked with contemplation. He shifts in his seat and crosses his arms, lips parting with an answer. A notification dings on his phone. 

“My ride’s here,” he murmurs and meets your eyes with an apologetic expression, “We can talk about it later?” 

You give him a non-committal smile, “Good luck at your thing.” 

—

The woman who gave you your new member packet, apparently the leader of the meeting, looks around the room and announces,

“This afternoon, our fearless speaker will be Taylor. Everybody please welcome Taylor.”

From the back row, you sink down in your metal folding chair and glance around at the attendees, joining in when they start to clap for a woman approaching the podium. 

“Hi everyone, my name is Taylor. I’m a member of Al-Anon.” 

The room responds in unison, “Hi Taylor.” 

Taylor smiles and shakes her head, looking down at a small stack of trembling notecards. Her round shoulders raise with a deep breath. She closes her eyes for a moment, exhales, then looks up at the room. 

“If you would’ve told me a year ago I’d be the speaker at an Al-Anon group, there’s no way I’d believe you. But here I am,” she chuckles, “Wow. Thank you everyone for coming in today. I see so many familiar faces and some not so familiar faces and I’m grateful to see all of you. I’m proud of you for coming to this meeting today. 

“One of the biggest preconceived notions I had when I started attending Al-Anon meetings nine months ago is that they would help me support my alcoholic husband. At the time, he was about a month into sobriety and had just started going to AA meetings. He was struggling like hell and a friend of his asked if he wanted to go to an AA meeting with him. So he did. 

“I’ll be honest, when he suggested I go to Al-Anon, I was annoyed. I really was. At that point, we’d been married for five years. He tried quitting, oh, I don’t know… six times in that five years? Three 90-day inpatient rehab stays, two arrests, more sleepless nights than I can count.” 

Taylor pauses and looks down at her notes, then back up at the room as an amused smile spreads across her face. 

“What it always reminded me of was this story my husband told me. Every so often, he goes through these phases where he gets very very interested in a particular subject. It completely takes him over. All he wants to do is read about it and talk about it and… well, you get it. 

“When he was in his Greek mythology era, he told me about Sisyphus, the king of Ephyra. Sisyphus killed people who visited his palace, which angered the gods because they considered it impolite, which is the understatement of the millennium, but that’s neither here nor there. When Sisyphus died, Hades punished him to an eternity rolling a boulder uphill. He would fight his way up this steep hill, pushing the boulder with all his might. The boulder was enchanted, though, and every time the it got near the top, the boulder would roll back down the hill, then he’d have to try again. So he does this over and over and over for eternity. Infinite frustration and exhaustion. 

“Sometimes it felt like that with him. With my alcoholic. Like I was stuck in this loop, fighting like hell to push his dead weight to the top of the hill. Just when I got a scrap of hope, it went tumbling back down. Over and over and over again. I structured my whole life around his relationship to alcohol. Checking in with him constantly, making sure I didn’t say or do anything that might trigger another relapse, putting myself on the back burner to accommodate his needs. So when he suggested I try going to Al-Anon meetings, I expected it to be another chore catering to his sobriety. I thought I would come here and learn all the ways people support the alcoholic in their life the right way. Because I obviously wasn’t doing it the right way. If I was, he would have years of sobriety under his belt. 

“Regardless, I agreed to go, and quickly discovered my preconceived notions about Al-Anon were wrong. Al-Anon doesn’t exist for us to better service the alcoholic or alcoholics in our lives. Sure, we’re all here because of the alcoholic in our lives, but the point is to better service ourselves. I think that distinction is important. 

“When I came home from my first meeting, I went through the new member packet Mario gave me, and found a handout that said: Detachment is neither kind nor unkind,” Taylor nods at the memory and looks around the room, “That struck a chord with me, that phrase. Detachment is neither kind nor unkind. It didn’t make sense to me at first. I thought, how is detachment neither kind nor unkind? It went against my instincts completely. How was I supposed to help my husband if I detached from him? Isn’t love about being attached to someone, sticking together through thick and thin? 

“Attending meetings and working the steps helped me get a better grasp on the concept. I came to understand that, in Al-Anon, detachment can mean two different things. The first is separating the person you love from their alcoholic behaviors. The second is a little harder to define, but it centers around the idea that you are separate from other people, and their actions do not control yours. Let me show you what I mean, though.

“In my relationship with my husband, we were entangled,” Taylor laces her hands together and holds them up for everyone to see. “Wherever he went, I went, too.” She moves her clasped hands back and forth. Spreading her hands apart, she says, “I didn’t want to be apart from him. But what I found with detachment is,” she flattens her hands palm-to-palm, “We can be close without being entangled. That way, if he goes to a dark place,” she moves one hand away from the other and shakes her head, “I don’t have to go with him if I don’t want to.” 

Taylor looks around the room, allowing her words to sink in, then returns her attention to the stack of notecards and flips to the next. 

“When we detach in this way, it both relieves us of our perceived responsibility for their actions and emotions, and grants them autonomy to make their own choices. They deserve dignity and freedom, which is difficult to obtain if we try to manage their lives. 

“So often in our marriage, I thought that loving my alcoholic meant rescuing him from himself. I thought that if I exerted myself hard enough, pushed him up that steep hill long enough, we would get to the top together. But the effort was Sisyphean. It didn’t matter how much time or effort I put into controlling the direction of the boulder. It would always roll downhill, because the boulder was enchanted. Even if I spent an eternity trying, even if I begged and screamed and pleaded with the boulder, it would still be enchanted. And, you know… maybe that’s ok. Maybe he’s not meant to sit at the top of the hill. It’s not his fault, either, and I came to realize that instead of getting frustrated at him for being enchanted, I can meet him where he is and love him anyway. If I don’t like that place, I don’t have to stay there. When I detach with love, I grant myself autonomy as well as him. 

“Putting the metaphor aside, I’ve used this in practice by no longer lying for him. If he’s at an AA meeting and our daughter asks why he’s not home, I tell her the truth. When my family or friends ask how everything is going, I don’t try to make it seem easier than it is so he can save face. I confide in them with sincerity because that is what I need. I’ve stopped giving him advice unless he asks for it, because I’ve learned here that most times people don’t need advice, they just need someone to listen and be present. I’ve stopped trying to take the reins when I think he’s making poor decisions, because he doesn’t need someone to do it for him. He needs to learn to do it himself. Part of learning is making mistakes and growing out from beneath the consequences. 

“Detachment is neither kind nor unkind, it’s a tool we utilize to free ourselves and the alcoholic in our lives. Al-Anon doesn’t exist to teach us how to help the alcoholic in our lives, although the tools it gives us can aid in their recovery as well as ours. This fellowship exists to help us, the families of the alcoholic, so that we may lead more joyful and serene lives. Thank you.” 

Applause erupts from the crowd, and you join in, watching Taylor glow with pride as she steps away from the podium. 

—

Damp, hot air pours in through the rolled-down windows, carrying with it the earthy scent of algae-bloom off East Lake Tohopekaliga. Driving along the slow, steady curve, you pass by sprawling oak trees, their eaves all draped in spanish moss. 

Your hope was that taking the scenic route home would clear your head, but it’s not doing the trick. Something shifted inside you during the meeting. You can’t quite put your finger on exactly what shifted or why it happened, although your circular thoughts give you the sense you’re on the precipice of understanding. 

You keep thinking about the speaker, Taylor, and the lesson she relayed from her podium. Her situation is different from yours, but you know it all the same. You know how it feels to dig your heels into the dirt, struggling like hell to push someone in the direction you think is best. You know how it feels to see him tumble to the bottom time and time again. And for what? It’s not like he’s any better off because of your efforts. It’s not like you are, either. 

How many times have you betrayed yourself for the sake of his favor? How many times have you put your needs aside to tend to his? 

Calm blue-gray water flickers behind the trees you drive past. It looks peaceful. Further up the road, you spot a public access point to the lake and turn into the lot, hitting a bump. When you do, a loud BANG reverberates through the car. The steering wheel shakes as you slow to a jerky, lopsided stop.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you fume, shifting the car into park. Folding forward onto the steering wheel, you pinch your eyes shut and take a deep breath, then exit the vehicle to look at the damage. 

The front driver’s side tire sits flat against the pavement. You stare at it and shake your head, muttering, “God fucking damnit,” before walking to the trunk. 

You open it and pull up the mat to the spare tire well. It’s empty. 

“Fucking of course. Jesus fucking—” 

Cutting yourself off with a furious groan, you pull out your phone and go through your contact list, pointedly scrolling past the F’s to pause at Leah, who’s over an hour away, then Marla, who’s busy enough as it is. You even briefly consider Rory, but the idea makes your stomach lurch. 

You could just do it all yourself. Order a car on one of those rideshare apps. It would take forever, though, and you’ve never changed a tire before. 

Frankie is the logical choice. The first person who came to mind, if you’re being honest. Something hard and stubborn inside your chest throbs when you hover over his name. 

It’s pride, you realize. Maybe a little fear. You don’t want to ask for his help. You don’t want to burden him. You don’t want to be disappointed if he says no. 

All the same, you dial his number. He picks up on the second ring. 

“H—”

“Are you at the house?”  

“I am.” 

“Are you busy?” 

“Nothing I can’t put off ‘til later. Why?” 

“My fucking tire blew out, and my spare is in the garage,” you sigh and throw your head back, propping a hand on your hip, “Is there any way you can bring it out to me?” 

“I, umm… yeah, of course. Where are you?” 

“East Lake Toho.”

He snorts, “Christ, what’re you doing all the way out there?” In the background, you hear the floorboards creaking, mapping his way through the house. Before you can respond, he asks, “Spare tire in the garage, need me to grab anything else?” 

“Uhhhh…” you wrinkle your nose at the trunk, “I don’t know, I have a jack and the tire iron thing.” 

“That should do it. Wanna drop me a pin? I’ll have to get a ride out there.” 

“Yeah. I can pay you back if you need to order a Lyft or whatever.” 

“Just take it off my tab,” he jokes, the back door squeaking open behind his voice, “Hang tight, I’ll be there in a bit.”

You turn around to lean back on the bumper, “Ok, I’ll be here.” 

After hanging up, you share your location with him, then wander down to the dock. It rattles around as you teeter to the end and sit down, letting your feet dangle over the edge. 

Cattails and lily pads have been cleared from the shoreline near the boat landing, giving you a clear view across the lake, broken up here and there by thick swaths of aquatic vegetation. The glassy surface of the water reflects the hazy blue sky, and stagnant air sticks humid to your skin. Insects buzz and birds sing and somewhere far away you hear a boat motor chugging across the lake. 

When you think of serenity, this is what you picture. Stillness and calm. Peace. You inhale the scene, allowing it to stretch out inside you and unfurl your tensed muscles. 

As soon as the unease evaporates from your body, fatigue takes over.  

Lying back on the dock, you stare up at tall, fluffy clouds littering the sky. Your eyelids grow heavy as you watch the slow-moving parade of shifting giants, the warm air lulling you into comfort until you let your eyes drift closed. 

Your awareness fades in and out while you sleep. At one point, a car door shuts, then the car drives off. Vaguely, you know it’s Frankie but can’t lift your limbs, syrupy thick with lethargy. You hear grunts and metallic clattering. Some time later, your trunk slams shut. 

When the dock starts wobbling around beneath you, you blink your eyes open and sit up, scrubbing your hands over your face as a yawn overtakes you. 

“Hey sleepyhead.” 

You glance over your shoulder at Frankie, who comes to sit down beside you with a groan. He’s back to his usual attire, jeans and a t-shirt, baseball cap firmly in place atop his head. 

Still groggy, you yawn, “I couldn’t make myself wake up.” 

“Not sleeping well?” 

“Fucking awful, honestly.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

You frown at him, searching his face until he gives you a little shrug, at which point you mumble, “Oh. I forgot that I, umm… yeah. Sorry.” 

“No need to apologize,” he tells you, squinting up at the sky before dropping his eyes to his hands as he fiddles with his wedding band, “Same here. The—the sleep part, not the nightmares.” 

“Yeah, I know. I hear you pacing around at night.” 

“Oh… sorry, I didn’t realize—”

You push yourself up straighter to watch his legs dangle next to yours, “It’s fine.” 

Quiet settles comfortably between you. Near the dock, you see a cluster of bubbles rise to the surface of the lake and burst. The ripples flatten out and calm returns. 

A question swells in your ribcage. Just a small pocket of air at first, maybe the size of a pebble. The longer you sit and stare at the water, though, it expands. It works its way up your throat, taking up more and more space with each passing second until you can’t contain it any more. 

“So you were lying to me, right? About not being with her?” 

He meets your gaze, dark eyes all remorseful and gooey, then he nods, “Yeah. I was lying. To both of you.” 

Folding your legs up onto the dock, you look away in the hope that he won’t notice the tears starting to come. When he speaks, his voice comes out hoarse and quiet. 

“How much do you want me to tell you?” 

The question replaces the air in your lungs with a vibrating sensation. Another cluster of bubbles dissolve on the surface of the lake. You manage to croak, “I don’t know.” 

He doesn’t respond. You sense that he’s waiting for you to make the next move. 

Your mind wanders to the front porch swing that night you forced him to choose. He felt so far away. Until he told you differently, you were so certain he was in love with you. 

“I don’t know how to trust your words as truth, Frankie. All the way back to the start, I don’t know what was real and what was bullshit and I am fucking—” your voice cracks from the emotion burning up your throat. 

He goes to comfort you, but pulls back before making contact. 

Every cell inside you aches for him to bridge the gap. You follow the instinct, grabbing his shirt to curl into his shoulder. As soon as you do, he wraps his arms tight around you, bringing you in closer. 

A wave of moth-eaten hurt wells up your chest. 

“Why?” you sob, “Why did you do this to me? I don’t understand—”

He starts to rock you in a slow, soothing motion, burying his face in your hair as you cry into the collar of his shirt. In the background, behind your racing thoughts and shattered breaths, you hear him whisper on repeat: I’m sorry, baby… I’m so sorry.

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟗: 𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐂.𝐉𝐇 ♡

Pure Relaxation

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : Jongho kept losing over and over again. Becoming increasingly more frustrated as time passes, it's a good thing you are here to help him cool off.

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 :  703

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Suggestive, Fluff. Gamer Au.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Boyfriend!Jongho x Girlfriend!Reader

[Warnings] : Fingering. Edging. Swearing. Such sweet intimacy. Sleepy sex. Jongho lowkey takes his frustration out on the reader in the form on cock warming hehe.

Thank you, @deathbyyeekies , for requesting Jongho for this day ♡♡♡.

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober 2023 List

This was a terrible idea… Actually, scratch that, it was a sinisterly great idea, and holy shit were you internally screaming at Jongho for suggesting such an idea. He had always said that he wanted to try to be more physically intimate since he is not the one to normally show physical affection. And you being a touch-starved person, how could you ever deny the touch of your lover? He was sitting in his room on his gaming chair. He and the others were all playing a new game for game night, and Jongho suggested you come cuddle him while he plays.

At first, it seemed innocent. You were koala hugging him, with your legs sitting bent either side of him. Every now and again, you felt him wrap his arms around you to give you a hug or draw shapes along your spine. You were in complete bliss, even tempting to fall asleep. But when it was like a switch went off and Jongho. He kept losing the stupid game, huffing out every time he saw the red killed banner. He was getting frustrated as the moments passed and needed something to help him cool down…

Or someone.

“Come on baby, before they start complaining I’m not back yet.” Jongho had told the others that he was just going to the bathroom for a moment so he could mute and help you prepare for him. His fingers were deep inside you as he whispered nothing but sweet things in your ear. You were a whining mess, wanting so badly to come undone all over his fingers. “Such a god girl.”

“J-Jong.” Your grinding hips start to stutter, getting yourself tip over the edge. You came hard, feeling your liquids pool around your lover's fingers. He wasted no time in pulling them out and placing them in his mouth. He hummed at the taste wanting nothing more than to sit here for hours and fuck you, but instead, he promised to play this stupid game he doesn’t even want to play.

“Now for the fun part, Honey.” he gripped his cock, stroking himself painfully slow before using his other hand to help you sit up so his tip was pushing against your dripping wet entrance. “Come on baby, take a seat.”

You sank down onto his thick dick, feeling him fill you up deliciously. Your hips automatically start to grind, but his hands suddenly grip your hips tightly, stopping you. Your eyes snap open to look at him, seeing his features were painted with a frustrated but sternness You sighed, silently apologizing, leaning down to press your body against his, laying your head on his board chest. His fingers rake up your naked form, calming you down before he groans “Don’t worry I’ll fuck up later.”

And so the hour begins, trying to sit still, and not grind against him and every time he lost you felt your cock twitch inside you, making you feel like you were going to combust. He wasn’t any better, every time he got angry he’d trust upwards into you so he could calm himself and it partially worked, but now all he wanted to do was fuck you into next week.

But once the next hour passed and then another a different form of desire began to brew. A need for intimacy. You were falling asleep, feeling a wave of comfort and peacefulness being so close to Jongho. You felt safe from him being nestled deep inside you. It was like your heart was opened to him and his, for you. Even after you fell deep asleep and he was done with his game. Neither of you wanted to move.

But to save yourselves from aching muscles later, Jongho picked you up, slipping out of you for only a moment before laying you down on the bed where he could let you cuddle up next to him while he sank back into you. No words were spoken, no eye contact was present. Your bodies did all the talking, and as your limbs tangled around one another, you both knew this would become one of your favourite things to do

- ♥︎

[leviathanspain]

my cherry

fred weasley x reader

synopsis: the yule ball is coming up, and fred still can’t find the words to ask you to be his date

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

fred weasley was your best friend. he was your rock, a star at the end of a once dark tunnel.

it wasnt a surprise when you found yourself looking at him with more fondness, feeling yourself blush whenever he was near. even his own twin brother was catching on, and it seemed like only a matter of time before fred knew.

“my cherry…” fred whispered as he sat down next to you in the common room. you were flipping through a potions study guide when the redhead pulled you from your focus.

“ma chérie.” you corrected, rolling your eyes as you flipped through the page, frustrated that you had lost your concentration.

fred shrugged, “whatever. my cherry sounds better.” he hummed softly and you looked at him, “what do you want?” he normally didn’t linger when you were clearly busy. he obviously had something on his mind.

fred was nervous. he looked at you and smiled softly before he opened his mouth, “y/n, i was wondering if you- would uh-“

the doors of the common room burst open and in poured a column of random students. you and fred both turned to see buck harpis headlining the group. the golden boy from ravenclaw, it was a surprise to see him so dapper in the gryffindor common room. he was holding a huge bouquet of roses and various other flowers, a baggie of chocolate frogs, and a stack of books with a ribbon on it.

you stood up and blushed immediately as you realized buck was here for you.

the crowd of students were his support as buck bowed to you, a huge smile on his face, “darling y/n. my dazzling star in potions, the one who keeps me on my toes during quidditch games, and the only girl i would share my chocolate frogs with, would you do me the honor of attending the yule ball with me?” buck presented the flowers and set the stack of books down on the end table.

the rest of your classmates looked at you as you paused, smiling shyly. you ran to embrace buck, “yes!” and cheers ensued as buck celebrayed with you.

fred felt bile rise up in his throat as he saw the overly dramatic asking to the ball. he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t utterly defeated that you had said yes. of course you did, it was buck harpis, even his sister had a crush on him.

you ran over to him after a professor had told everyone to run along now, dinner was soon.

fred couldn’t help but smile at you, trying to uphold his energy, “wow! what a-“

“i know right!” you interrupted him before he could even say anything. you took a big inhale of the flowers and set them down on the end table. you paused for a moment before you looked at fred, “what were you gonna say earlier?”

fred shook his head and waved a hand, “nothing. go eat, my cherry. i’ll be there soon.” you nodded, not completely sold but you went anyway.

hermione was already warming your seat as you rushed down to the dining hall. she was smiling wide and hugged you, “oh my! i heard. literally i heard the cheers from the library.” she laughed, and ron and harry who were across from you guys, nodded in unison.

you blushed, “yeah. well, it was very romantic.” you tried to play it cool but you felt an internal scream, and even when buck walked past the table, giving you a wave, as he sat down at the ravenclaw table, his friends clapped his back and congratulated him.

although, through your happiness at being asked to the dance, you felt disappointment that fred hadn’t asked you out. he had many chances, the yule ball was next week, so considering that you even got asked out was a bit of a surprise. but buck had mentioned that it took a while to get the books imported from france, all first editions.

george sat down next to you and began to grab food. you raised an eyebrow at the sightless fred, “where’s your brother?”

george pointed to ron and you rolled your eyes, “your twin brother.”

george stuffed a turkey leg into his mouth and shrugged, “said he wanted to clear his head.” that was enough to get you up, and you knew exactly where fred was clearing his head.

the stairs to the ravenclaw observatory winded you. being a quidditch player didn’t seem to help your stamina as fred could hear your wheeze from all the way at the top.

fred was already standing at the top step when you showed up. from the looks of his body language, he was angry.

“what’s wrong?” you asked fred, who scoffed. “what’s wrong?” he mocked your tone and shook his head, “it’s you. it’s him. it’s all wrong.” fred was practically hissing the words out.

you raised your eyebrows, “are you mad? you’re mad that buck asked me to the yule ball?” the questions astounded you. you didn’t even know that fred even cared that much.

“yes! im enraged! why did you say yes? hmm? it’s buck harpis for gods sake! we used to make fun of him during our first year!” fred was yelling now, and you felt yourself flinch slightly.

fred didn’t seem to notice as he shook his head, “i was going to ask you to go with me, before he came into the common room with his conviently cheering crowd.”

“i-“ you faltered for words, but fred shook his head, “i’m sorry that i didn’t do a grand gesture for your attention like he did. im a weasley, im sorry i cant give you what you deserve, y/n.”

you shook your head, “no, you don’t get to do this to me, fred. i- i spent years pining after you, years suffering in your shadow as you dated and paraded yourself around like a whore!” you spat out the last word and you felt your eyes brim with tears, “it’s not my fault that suddenly you figured out how you felt about me.” you stepped back and sniffled, watching fred at a loss for words you continued, “i came up here to comfort you, talk to you and be your friend. i had been so used to being just your friend that now it makes you mad when i ask what’s wrong? i don’t want any part of that if that’s how it’s going to be from now on, passive aggressive behavior. im done, weasley.” you stepped back onto the steps and even though you felt winded, you found yourself practically running down the steps.

fred was heartbroken. all he wanted to do was apologize for being so stupid. how could he be so blind? all these years of loving him and you stayed quiet? yet fred couldn’t take it for merely a day that someone else had asked you out. the immature voice in his head had said that no one had asked you out ever before, why would they now to the dance? but he was wrong, buck was just the one who got lucky.

dancing with buck was a dream, but it wasn’t your perfect dream. the perfect dream was sitting at a table with his last minute date, sulking as he tried not to be obvious to his staring at you and your date. but every so often, you’d find his eyes wandering to yours.

“i’m thirsty.” you muttered to buck and he nodded, “i’ll be back.” and he spun you off the dance floor.

you walked over to fred, who had also conviently sent his date for drinks.

“i need to talk to you.” you whispered and fred got up, reluctantly.

you grabbed fred’s hand and looked behind you as you pulled his just outside the hall.

fred raised his eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes. you grabbed his face and kissed him. passionately and roughly as you had always hoped to do. fred fell into the kiss, and grabbed your hands just on top of his, his tongue melted into yours.

it got hot and heavy for a few minutes until you tore yourself off him for some air. “i’ll see you later.” you whispered.

fred gulped, “yeah, of course.” as you walked away he spun you back around, “see you later, ma chérie.” laying another kiss on you, you realized that his french was perfect, and you blushed, opening the door to the great hall.

[helpimstuckposting]

I couldn’t get my earlier post out of my head, and then this happened so… I hope you enjoy a little famous!Eddie and dingus!Steve ficlet (ft platonic soulmate Stobin)

Part one | part two | part three

—

Steve and Robin had lived in Indy all of their lives. They shared the same schools, same teachers, same jobs, it would never end. They were platonic soulmates in a way they understood but couldn’t explain to anyone else, and that was okay. It worked for them.

Since they graduated, they’d been ice cream scoopers, movie rental employees, pizza makers, delivery drivers, movie theater security, bartenders, and now - surprisingly - musicians.

They had originally started messing around with song covers during their bartending era. Every Thursday was karaoke night, and they were both too competitive to see it as anything other than a chance to win, both trying to upstage the other. After a while, Steve started writing songs in his free time and Robin wouldn’t let anyone but her sing them. She posted their songs on Tiktok and Instagram just to see what would happen, and eventually they made their way onto Spotify and other streaming services.

A few of their songs went viral enough that they had a steady stream of listeners, and spent their free time putting more and more songs together. Their boss even let them play live at the bar on Wednesdays (and of course they’re still just as passionate about karaoke night).

It was a few months into their Wednesday shows when he showed up. Eddie Munson. It was just another bar in Indy, just a stop on their tour, just a coincidence that he happened to choose Robin and Steve’s bar. Steve noticed him during their set, and he was so glad in that moment that Robin was the lead singer because he was absolutely sure his voice would have cracked. Corroded Coffin was one of Dustin’s favorite bands, the kid wouldn’t shut up about them any time a new album or single was released.

Steve knew they were in Indy on tour, he’d witnessed Dustin’s spiral about not being able to afford a ticket, but he couldn’t believe they stopped in this bar. Dustin was gonna freak.

Once Robin and Steve finished their set, they went back to the bar to resume their actual jobs and Steve was once again stunned when Eddie Munson walked right up to him for a drink. Obviously Steve should have expected that, what else was someone going to do at a bar? But seeing someone he knows from the multiple posters plastered over Dustin’s bedroom wall, right in front of him - in the flesh, was beyond anything he could have predicted. Internally, he was absolutely freaking out.

Externally, he tried to keep his professional mask on. Munson was a regular customer, just a guy buying a drink, Steve could handle it without a meltdown. But man was the guy attractive. His band tee was ripped at the hem, jean vest with all its pins and buttons catching the light, and Steve could see the tendon in his neck pull as he laughed at something his band mate next to him said. Steve wanted to bite it.

He finished a customer’s drink, collected their card, and braced himself as Munson stepped up to the bar, a dimpled smile on his face that made Steve’s heart flutter like a dying butterfly in his chest.

“Nice set, man, your friend’s voice is gorgeous,” he said. “Can I get three rum and cokes?”

Grabbing three glasses from the bar, Steve began on the drinks. “Absolutely,” he said, his smile probably nowhere near Eddie’s level. “Are you here often, or just visiting?” Steve asked, attempting to play it cool, like Eddie was just any other person. This is ridiculous, Steve’s gonna throw up. Keep calm.

Eddie looked him up and down and smirked, “Just visiting for the weekend,” he said. A growing lump in Steve’s throat made him want to scream ‘I know!!! I know why you’re here!!! I know who you are!!! Hi!!!’ but he shoved that down as far as it could go, ready to choke on it if need be.

Steve set the finished drinks on the bar in front of Eddie, the musician handing over his card in exchange. “Open or closed?” He asked.

“Open. So, are those songs originals?” Eddie leaned into the bar, putting his face just a bit closer to Steve’s. He was gonna have a heart attack before the night was over, for sure, if Eddie kept this up.

“Oh, yeah, I uh… I wrote them,” Steve stuttered out. This was insane, he could pinch himself, there was no way this situation was happening. Eddie was gorgeous, dimples firmly in place because he wouldn’t stop smiling or smirking, his curls just begging for Steve to bury his hands in them and bring their faces closer. If Steve hadn’t been on the receiving end of hundreds of Dustin’s rants about Corroded Coffin, he knows he’d still want to drag Eddie out back and see what those lips tasted like, if they felt as much like sunshine as they looked.

Eddie nodded appreciatively and looked Steve up and down once again. “I’d love to hear more some time,” he said as he turned to leave, three glasses balanced in his hands.

“Well there’s karaoke here tomorrow night,” Steve blurted out, all attempts at remaining calm flying out the window because was that Eddie flirting with him? How did we get here? “You could stop by if you’ve got any free time.”

Eddie laughed, amusement flickering in his eyes and suddenly Steve remembered chasing fireflies in Robin’s backyard when they were kids. He started walking backwards towards his friends, “I’ll see what I can do!” he said with a raised voice, flashing one more smile that made that butterfly in Steve’s chest absolutely flip out. He was frozen in place, the shock of the whole situation settling deep in his bones. Honestly, Steve wasn’t sure he was still alive. Did he choke somewhere between the stage and the bar? Did he even make it to work in the first place? What day was it?

“Earth to Dingus!” Robin shouted at the other end of the bar. “A little help here?” she frantically gestured around her to the rising number of patrons.

A pretty decently sized mob was forming around the bar, snapping Steve out of his rock-star-induced-coma. He could freak out later in the privacy of his own home, right now he had work to do. And if his brain short circuited every time Eddie ordered drinks, that was nobody’s business but his own (and Robin’s).

—

Thank you so much for the encouragement !