#there are so many things that could go wrong and my heart isn’t ready

[creatureseeker]

I’m so fucking anxious for season three (it’s henery’s last season, jaskier will for sure be trudging through some serious and painful shit, new love interests and character dynamics will be introduced, etc.) but joey saying, “the boys are BACK”, in that one interview is the thing that’s keeping me going.

That, and the promise of an influx of new geraskier fics💕

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - ANNUAL GALA

A/N: A new smutty one-shot. I tried. I don't think it's good. But let me know what you think.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Avenger female reader

Warning: smut

My stories are written for mature audiences - 18+!

Words: 4200+

Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - ANNUAL GALA

Tony Stark had invited Charles Xavier and his X-men to an annual gala he held in New York. There were many reasons for that. The Avengers and X-men worked together during difficult missions and unexpected alien threats. Also, he wanted to prove to regular citizens and high-profile politicians that mutants were not the enemy. This was the perfect opportunity for both groups to strengthen their bonds and work relationships. 

That’s how Logan had found himself, in a fancy all-black tux, standing at the bar with a drink in his hand. His glare could kill anyone who rubbed him the wrong way. He wasn’t fond of these gatherings, and yet here he was. His eyes were searching for any threat, ready to fight anyone who would seem too suspicious to him.

“You didn’t have to come here, you know,” Hank chuckled when he approached Logan at the bar. “Nobody forced you to come here.”

Logan rolled his eyes and sipped on his whisky. “I know how important these things are,” he growled. “Charles wanted me to be here, so I’m here.” 

“Uh-huh,” Hank rolled his eyes. He ordered a drink. When the bartender had given him the drink with shaking hands, he had to chuckle. Some people were spooked by his blue fur and beasty look. “Isn’t it because you are waiting for a certain someone?” 

Logan sighed, defeated. Hank knew damn well that his friend had built some connection with a certain female Avenger. There was no denying he was waiting for her. “You really wanna go there, furball?” He tried to avoid the question. 

“Oh, come on, Logan. Everyone can see how you are smitten with that woman,” he chuckled. “It’s kinda nice.”

“I am not smitten,” he denied. Fuck, but even Charles constantly made comments and teased him about it. “By the way, shut your mouth, McCoy. I don’t want to hear shit from you. You’ve been eyeing that reporter from News 1.” 

That made Hank roar with laughter. He sipped his drink and turned to the crowd, watching people mingle around, talk and drink. “I’m not denying that. She’s pretty, we like to talk about science. You, on the other hand, keep denying everything. But we are not blind.”

Logan wanted to throw the drink at Hank. He would, if they’d be back in the mansion. He opened his mouth to snap back at him. But the energy shifted to the grand stairs. Logan’s eyes travelled there, wanting to know what the fuss was about.

Yelena Belova and Y/N Y/L/N walked down the stairs with linked arms. Both looked beautiful in their evening gowns and perfect hair. Yelena had a green satin dress. Y/N chose a sparkling black dress that hugged her figure perfectly, with a slit on her left thigh. 

Oh, if he could, Logan would drool like a dog. It was one thing when she wore that damn tight suit during missions, but this made him hard instantly. Fuck. Maybe this was the day he would have a heart attack. And she’d be the cause of it.

His blood started to boil when many men gave her attention. Once the women left the stairs, they were surrounded by testosterone. Yelena was a pretty lady, too. He had to admit that. Y/N was something different. She felt like a dream, a secret naughty fantasy that he wanted to come to life. 

“Close your mouth or you’ll swallow a fly,” Hank said. 

Logan drank the rest of the whisky in one go, eyes never leaving Y/N’s figure on the main floor. Hell, even her teammates danced around her. Where did this jealousy come from? 

He thought about the day they met. It was an accidental mission, where the Avengers were also present. While Charles and Captain Amerika talked after the finished mission, Logan’s eyes were focused on the woman who caught his attention. 

Their first interaction was amusing. Y/N tried to save his ass when a group of soldiers surrounded him. Logan was on the ground, guns pointed at every piece of his body when she came out of nowhere, shooting down the soldiers, snapping their necks with bare hands. Her kicks were strong, her punches were deadly. 

Once the threat was eliminated, she turned and looked down at Logan. “Are you done napping?” she asked him with a grin. 

He huffed. “I had it under control,” he huffed. He got up on his legs, the adamantium claws had already retracted back to his skin. Y/N watched it happen like a hawk but didn’t comment on it. 

“Of course. You almost got killed by ten men. Yeah, you had it under control.” 

“I can’t die, princess,” he squinted at her. “It wouldn’t be the first time a firing squad would try to kill me. In the end, it would always just tickle.”

Y/N tilted her head. A smile played on her lips. “Well, if you are done bragging, let’s move. There is still more to come and I would like to be in bed with a book in my hand by ten.” 

That was just their first interaction. And with that, something bloomed between them. Friendship? Or was it something more? Every mission became exciting. He couldn’t keep the dumb smile on his face once he saw her in the field.

Logan ordered another whisky. A grin spread on his lips when he thought back to their first meeting. He learnt her name later. First, it was just her last name. Rogers barked orders when he said it. Her first name came at a different time when they all shared the same coms for better communication. 

“She’s coming here,” Hank warned him, which brought Logan back to reality. 

With every step, he could notice more details about her. The material of the dress, how deep her cleavage was, how her breasts popped out, the red lips, the earrings, the fact that she was like a fucking angel. All she needed was wings. And, she was coming to him alone. Fucking finally. 

“Wolverine,” she purred his name. “I can’t believe you are here. Who put a gun to your head and forced you to attend this magical evening?” There was a teasing smile on her lips. 

Don’t look at her tits, he thought. Don’t look at the tits that want to spill out of that dress. Fuck!

“I heard there was an open bar,” he said. “So I decided to come and drink Stark’s liquor.” 

She licked her lips, suppressing her chuckle. “No other reason?” I raised a brow. “See your friends, swoon ladies or play pool with the boys?”

See me?

He kicked in the rest of the drink and put the glass on the bar. His eyes noticed the crowd gathering in the middle of the hall. A slow music started to play, inviting everyone to dance. Logan’s hand reached forward. It was now or never. “Or I came here to dance with ya, princess.” 

One second and her hand slipped into his. “Oh, so you dance, you say? Lead the way.” 

Logan proudly walked her into the crowd of dancing people. One hand rested on her lower back, other held her right hand. He knew what he was doing. After all, this was the first dance of his life. Y/N was impressed by that. They started to dance to the string music. 

He sniffed her sweet perfume, the shampoo she used. That woman would be the death of him, Logan was sure of it. They kept dancing, not talking. His eyes were on her, locked in a gaze. He had been close to her before but not like this. She was like a magnet, pulling him closer to her. Her lips inviting, her touch soft. 

The more he looked at her, the more he wanted to spill out what was going through his mind. “You look beautiful tonight,” he admitted. “Fuck, you look beautiful every time I see ya.”

She chuckled. “Even in my suit during a fight?” she raised a brow. 

“Hell yes,” he nodded eagerly. “Princess, when you walk to the field in that suit, fighting fearlessly, I have trouble focusing. Once you did a trick with your thighs, choking an enemy with them, I almost lost it there.” 

Y/N’s hand left his. She brushed it up his arm and rested it on his shoulder. “Oh, so that’s the effect I have on you, eh?” she teased the Canadian. “Care to say more?”

Logan’s hand joined the other on her lower back. He pressed her closer to his body. The height difference was evident between them. Even with her high heels, she was shorter than him. “Fishing for compliments?” 

“From you? Yes,” she smiled. 

He moved closer to her, leaning. In his mind, he was ready to press his lips against her. He needed to kiss her like he needed to breathe. This was his chance to taste her.

A third hand landed on Y/N’s shoulder. “Y/N, Logan,” they heard someone say their names. The moment was ruined. He wasn’t able to kiss her like he wanted. On the other hand, he wanted to slash anyone who interrupted them.

With a growl, he pushed away, eyes finding Captain Rogers, accompanied by Hank. “What?” he asked them grumpily. He didn’t care it was rude. They ruined something special. 

“We need you in the conference room,” said Steve. “We have a situation.” 

Y/N sighed, stepping away from Logan’s hold. “What’s going on?” she switched to a work mode. She gave Hank a polite smile to acknowledge his presence. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted us about Trash industries,” said Steve. “Come, we’ll show you.” 

“Charles?” Logan’s eyes shifted to Hank. 

“Already with Stark,” he said. 

All four of them walked together from the grand hall. Yelena and Sam joined them on the stairs. The blonde woman was yapping about being taken away from a cute woman and a fine drink. 

“I just fucking got here. Already some shit is happening,” she kept cursing under her nose.

Logan kept close to Y/N. He missed her body being so close to his. He hoped they'd be able to continue. The conversation was intriguing. He remained by her side while walking through the hallway and to the upper levels of the compound. 

Her fingers brushed against his hand. It wasn’t an accident. No. Her fingers purposefully stroked the top of his hand. Instantly, his fingers moved. His pinkie hooked around hers for a second. It was a mutual sign. 

The group entered the conference room, meeting the rest of the Avengers and Charles. One by one they took a seat except Logan. He stayed on his feet, a step away from Y/N’s seat. A hologram appeared in the middle of the table. 

“We got a new location on Trask Industries, but this time, these fuckers had decided to work with some Hydra scums,” Tony started to talk, showing footage they managed to get from satellites. “Or so it appears. we are not quite sure.” 

“The public wouldn’t like that,” Charles commented. “They try to present themselves as a serious robotic corporation. Why would they jeopardise their public status if they start working with a public enemy?”

“That is trying to hunt down mutants and annihilate them,” Y/N commented. “Don’t want to imagine what’s going on behind closed doors. It can’t be nice.”

“Is it really Hydra?” Natasha asked. 

“It appears,” Steve chimed in. “Or something adjacent.” 

“So what? We’re just gonna sit here and wait for more details?” Logan scoffed. “The longer we wait, the more work they get done. I say to strike and kill them all.” 

Y/N licked her lower lip and grinned under her nose.

“We need a strategy, Logan,” said Charles.

“Not everyone can get sliced and heal with a snap of fingers,” Tony added sarcastically. “Chill, wolvie. Besides, we’ve sent Vision to have a look at the place. He’s a droid, a powerful one made out of vibranium.” 

Y/N turned her head to Tony. “That doesn’t mean he’s indestructible in this world,” she frowned. “New weapons are being developed every day to destroy mutants, to stop the Avengers. I hope Wanda went with him. They are stronger together.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Of course, she’s with him. Do you think I’d be able to stop her? I’m not crazy.” 

“Trask Industries are still working on the damn sentinel program,” Hank stepped into the conversation. “With Hydra’s help, who knows what they’ll be able to create together. The thought alone is scary.” 

Tony ended the hologram. Steve took the word. “I know we are supposed to be here at the gala, but I suggest a good night's sleep and be ready. If you’d like, we have spare rooms in here for you. You can stay here for the night if we need to leave.” 

When Steve said that, Y/N gently turned her head to the side, wondering what Logan would say to that. 

“I’ll gladly accept the offer,” Hank smiled. “At least I’d get to talk to Bruce for a little while and have a look at his labs. I’ll also alert the others at school.” 

“Howlett?” Tony raised a brow. 

Logan’s eyes moved from Y/N’s exposed shoulders to Hank and then to Tony. “Sure, why not? At least I don’t have to drive from place to place.” 

“I guess we are staying,” Charles smiled. “Thank you for your accommodation.” 

The meeting ended. Natasha and Yelena went back to the gala. Y/N talked to Hank for a few more minutes while he was waiting for Bruce. Steve and Tony took Charles back to the grand hall. Logan waited outside the conference room. Because no one was present, he took a cigar out of his jacket and lit it up. Three puffs later Y/N stepped out of the conference room with Hank. 

“Already smoking?” Hank sighed. 

“So what? Got a problem with that, bub?” 

“Always the charmer,” Hank shook his head. “Nice evening, Y/N. I’ll see you later,” he said once he saw Banner approaching the group. 

The moment Logan and Y/N were alone, they faced one another. “Are you heading back to the gala?” Logan asked. 

She hummed, thinking about it. “I’m not feeling like going back there. Honestly, those fancy parties are not my cup of tea. Wanna grab a drink in our lounge room? Stark has the fanciest shit there. You’re gonna love it.” 

Logan smiled at her. “Lead the way, princess.”

. . .

The lights were dimmed in the lounge room. Logan was nursing an expensive drink Y/N poured him. He made faces, eyed the liquid, humming and nodding. “This is some good shit,” said after a while. “Wealthy people can afford stuff like this. Also, Charles prohibited any alcohol at school.” 

Y/N chuckled, sitting in an armchair with her drink. “It makes sense. It’s a school. Of course, he doesn’t want any alcohol there. Does he let you smoke?” 

He huffed. “That he ain’t gonna do shit about it. No matter how much he threatens to turn me into a six-year-old girl.” 

“Aw, that’s adorable. I’d like to see that,” she put a wide smile on her face as she sipped her drink. “Maybe I’d brush your hair, put pink ribbons in it.”

Logan kicked the drink in and stood up from the couch. His eyes noticed a few photos around the place - from parties and group shots to professional photos of the team. They were like a family. What mostly caught his attention was Y/N. She was an Avenger, part of a superhero team. He huffed. Fuck, she was a damn Avenger. 

“What?” she questioned. A second later, she was by his side, eyes on the same photo of the team. “That was after Ultron almost annihilated the whole world. We celebrated our survival. Stark puked into his helmet,” she laughed. 

“Disgusting,” he frowned. “I must say, you look like one happy family,” he commented. 

Y/N hummed. “Maybe,” she shrugged. “I love them all to death.”

“But?” he raised a brow. 

She shrugged. “Will I sound ungrateful if I say I hate being in the spotlight?” she made a face. “I can’t do photoshoots, the damn galas and shit forever. I hate attention. I’d rather be like you.”

“Me?”

She nodded. “Teaching mutant kids, living life out of the spotlight. Even though it’s not easy, in my eyes, it’s simpler. Not have to deal with this shitshow.” 

Logan’s fingers found her hair. He brushed them away from her face. His mouth opened, ready to say something - anything - but instead, he grabbed her by the neck, pulled her closer to his body and crashed his lips against her. It was like an invincible string, pulling them together. He couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t slow, gentle. Quite the opposite. Logan’s tongue explored her mouth, tasting every corner he could reach. It was hungry, possessive. One hand held her tightly around her waist while the other slipped from her neck, down her back until it reached her ass, taking as much of her cheek into his palm. 

Both arms wrapped around his neck. A moan escaped her lips when the kisses moved to her jaw and down to her exposed neck. 

“I need to have you,” Logan growled between the kisses. “Fuck, pretty baby.” 

“My room,” she sighed. “We can’t give Stark or Rogers a heart attack if we do it here. Although, it would be funny.” 

Logan pushed away, staring into her eyes. He went back for her lips, only to bite her lower lip, pulling at it. “Lead the way, princess,” he growled. “And hurry, or I will take you here, where anyone can see us.”

Y/N grabbed him by the hand, taking him away from the lounge room. Logan moved her to his side and kept a hand on her smaller back. He needed to feel her, to be sure she was real and not a damn dream.

It took them a good three minutes to get to her room on the upper levels. The moment she closed the door, her hands were on Logan’s jacket, taking it off, letting it fall on the floor. Both of them stepped on it, not caring. His lips smashed against hers, all tongue and teeth. Grunts and moans echoed around them as they moved closer to the bed. 

“I wanna rip this dress off,” he said, hands grabbing both of her covered breasts into his palms, squeezing them. 

Y/N undid his tie. “No,” she chuckled, unbuttoning his white shirt. “Too fucking expensive. Here,” her fingers quickly found the zipper on her left side. She pulled it down and the dress loosened. That was Logan’s sign to pull down on it. 

“Fuck, princess,” his eyes rolled when she stood there in nothing but a black lacy thong. Her breasts were on full display, nipples stiff, just for his eyes. “Fucking perfect.” 

Before he could latch onto her hardened nipples, she forced the white button-up down off his body, hand grabbing onto his muscles, fingers brushing over some of the hair on his chest. She stood on her tiptoes to find his lips in another hungry kiss. 

His tongue dove into her mouth, caressing hers in the process. He felt her hands moving down to his belt, unfastening it. “Impatient?” his voice hoarse.

She pushed him onto her bed. He fell with a loud thud. The adamantium bones almost broke it in the process. “Shit, sorry,” she gasped, forgetting about his weight. But instantly, she climbed on top of him. Y/N pressed her breasts onto his chest as she needed to kiss him again and again. 

Logan switched it up, rolling them so she was under his body. “Now, let me ravish you before I give you my cock,” he said, lips already trailing kissed down her chest, over her breasts. His mouth took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it, biting it. Her other nipple was teased by his thumb and index finger. 

“Fuck, Logan,” she whimpered. 

His mouth then travelled south. His tongue left a wet trail down her stomach to the hem of her thong. He kneeled on the edge of the bed, taking her leg up in the air, kissing it from the thigh up to her ankle. “I should leave these heels on, darlin’. So fucking sexy. Fuck, and I will.” 

Y/N huffed. “Logan, please, I want your mouth on me.” 

“Ah, already begging. I love it,” he grinned. He put her leg on his shoulder. His fingers brushed down down her leg to her clothed pussy. With two fingers he brushed her over her hidden folds and clit. She practically purred. “Pretty sound.” 

“Come on, Logan, do something.” Y/N was becoming frustrated. He kept teasing her, rubbing circles over her clit. “Don’t be a fucking tease. Not now.” 

A dark laughter escaped his throat. “Patience, darlin’.” He moved the thong to the side, exposing her pussy to the cold air. He saw her clench around nothing. “What a pretty pussy, princess. So wet and ready for me.” And he buried two fingers inside her heat. 

Y/N moaned once his two thick fingers penetrated her. “Shit. Ah.” 

He pulled them out and put them straight into his mouth, tasting her. “Delicious,” hummed. “I’m gonna feast on you. Not now. Now, I need to feel you around my cock, princess.” 

Logan grabbed her thong and pulled it off her legs, leaving her completely exposed to his eyes. He made sure to leave those heels on. “Fucking gorgeous.” He stood up to get rid of his pants. 

The moment he unzipped them, she knew he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “Shit, Logan, commando?” she raised a brow. His length was already hard, ready for attention. The tip of his cock was angry red, already leaking precum. 

She was ready to reach for him, take his cock into her mouth and guide it into her mouth. Logan was faster. He pushed her back on the bed, shaking his head. “No, no, darlin’. I’m gonna fuck you now. And next time, I will let you have a taste of me.” 

“Next time?” she smiled. 

Logan leaned closer, his head above hers. “You think this a one-time thing? Oh, pretty girl. No, no.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. 

“Good,” she gave him a bright smile. 

He pumped his length a few times before he positioned his cock to her opening. Slowly, he pushed inside until her hungry pussy took him all in. He cursed, groaned when her walls clenched around him. Once he was buried to the hilt, Y/N sank her nails into his chest, leaving red trails down to his belly button. They immediately disappeared, healed.

“Feel so good, princess. So tight,” he moaned as he started to move. At first slow, enjoying every stroke, watching her face like a hawk. He loved how her eyes rolled, how she gasped for air with each thrust or how she squeezed her breasts. She was fucking perfect. 

His thrusts fastened. He watched her breasts bounce as she kept fucking her. His grunts were louder, more vocal. Logan’s right hand found her neck. He wrapped his fingers around it, squeezing it. And that move made her clench hard around his cock. “Shit, Y/N,” he called her name. “Keep doing that and I will fucking cum inside you.”

Logan’s other hand sneaked between their bodies and found her clit. He started to rub it slowly, changing the movements. 

“P-please,” she gasped. “I need to cum, Logan.”

He smiled. “Yeah, pretty girl? Gonna cum around my cock?”

Y/N nodded, moaning and shaking under him. “Please, please,” she begged. 

“Come on, princess. Cum around my cock. Squeeze me with your sweet pussy,” he demanded. “Wanna feel you when you cum. Shit… Ah… Fuck…”

A few more flickers of his finger was what she needed to reach her peak. Her mouth formed a perfect O, her voice suddenly gone when the wave of pleasure hit her body like a train. Her back arched as he helped her through her orgasm. 

“Fuck, baby, yes,” he grunted. “Milk me dry.” 

A few more thrusts and he spilt inside her. His hot cum painted her walls. He growled like an animal, trying to prolong his climax with every movement. His body shook and then he stopped, panting. 

His eyes found hers. There was a post-orgasmic haze in them. A smile played on her lips. She was perfect, beautiful. Logan quickly leaned down and stole a kiss from her.

“Damn, princess,” he chuckled. “Such a good girl.” 

Those words made her clench around his length again. He grinned. “You like it when I call ya a good girl? Good to know.” Slowly, he pulled her semi-hard cock out of her and rolled next to her, catching his breath. 

Y/N rolled to him, resting her leg over his body. Her fingers drew patterns on his chest, moving through the hair delicately. “This was fun,” she smiled. “It’s been a while since I had a good orgasm.” 

He raised a brow. “Next time, I’ll make you cum on my fingers,” he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips on her fingers. “Then on my tongue and around my cock,” he hummed. “I will fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

She grinned. “Is that a promise?” 

“Fuck yeah, princess.” 

[shortnotsweet]

[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:

BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.

— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)

Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.

That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.

Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.

(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.

She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)

“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.

“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”

“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.

“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”

“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.

“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”

[dark-and-kawaii]

𝓪 𝓯𝓾𝓷 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓪: Tav/Reader has a child and Halsin hopes it’s his and not Astarion’s.

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼: I’ve had this thought for a while now and decided I’d post it, I do apologize if it’s crappy due to not writing in a long while… HOWEVER, enjoy it the best that you can loves 💕

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Astarion x Tav/Reader, Jealous Halsin??

The Swiping your hair out of your face, Halsin watches you sleep soundly. He can see the sleeping child nestled in your arms, a handsome boy, while Halsins lingering fingers on the top of her head, he smiles. Surely this has to be his child, you had bedded him a few too many times for it not to be his child… His smile drops at the thought of it not being his, his heart shattering all over again. It feels as if someone reached into his chest to tug at his heart…

Sliding his fingers down from your head to where the child sleeps soundly, Halsin pulls back the red velvet blanket that hides most of the child’s features. Ah, and to his dismay he sees pale skin and features that could only belong to Astarion.

“He is my child, and it always will be my child.”

Scrunching his face, Astarion stares at the much larger elf that’s standing all too close to what is his.

“You need to leave this room, druid. She does not belong to you, nor does the child. She belongs to me, and so does the boy.”

Astarion always had a knack for rubbing salt in the wound, why couldn’t he have just disappeared in the underdark like the rest of those spawn?

Clenching his fist next to you, Halsin unclassps his fist and strokes your face one last time before turning to Astarion, “She does not belong to anyone, you do not own her. Tav is free to do whatever she chooses, and I’m for certain she wouldn’t mind my presence.”

Astarion laughs while kicking himself off the wall which he was leaning on, striding up to the wood elf, “She may not mind, but I do.” Standing as tall as he could in front of Halsin, Astarion stands his ground, “I’ll admit it we all had some fun in the past, but that’s over so do not test my patience. I’ve done unthinkable things to ensure the safety of my child and her.” Halsin’s insight is as keen as ever, looking into the pale elf’s eyes he can see that Astarion is lying, he never truly enjoyed Halsins company… At least, not when it involved you.

Halsin scoffs, “To ensure their safety? Or to ensure yourself that no one takes them away from you? Are you that self-conscious?”

Astarion’s face twists with annoyance, “Excuse me?! What did you just say?!”

Halsin can only smirk at Astarion’s newfound expression, “Unlike you, I’ve actually been at her side protecting her. I’ve seen the horrors she’s gone through, and I’ve been there each time to defend her and aid her in battles. Not to use her as some kind of shield like you did.”

“You wretched-“ Reaching for the dagger that sits comfortably on his belt, Astarion grips the blade's hilt, ready to spill blood.

As Halsins eyes glow like the golden sun he’s prepared to change and defend himself while Astarions veins pop from his hands due to clenching his dagger's hilt. They are ready for what is to come next; however the infant cradled in your arms stops them before any blood could be spilled.

Your son’s wailing is what breaks the tension, his arms reaching into the air looking for someone to cling to. Both men cease their actions, Astarion the first to fix himself so he can go to his son.

Reaching for his child, he makes sure not to disturb you while lifting his pale son, holding him close to his chest. It doesn’t take clear eyes to see that Astarion is still weary of holding such a fragile creature, however it sinks into Halsin that he was wrong to come here and disturb the couple's happy life. He had grown fond of you and deep down was hoping you’d share his forest with him along with a child of his own. This right now though, isn’t like him, it’s time he heads back with the orphans and those in need.

“Astarion, forgive my actions, for I do not know what overcame me. It was wrong of me to come here.”

The high elf’s facial expressions cause creases in his perfect skin, “Forgiven. Now just go.”

Nodding, Halsin takes his leave but not before he’s able to witness the infant tug on Astarions curls as a distressed Astarion cries out.

- 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓚𝓲𝔀𝓲

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for getting mad my gf for making assumptions ?

🦖🍀

My gf and I have been together for 2 and a half years. She’s in her mid 20s I’m in my late 20s. We’re a het couple, both bisexual. When we first started dating my gf said she has a lot of friends, guys and girls and she intends to not break up any already established friendships unless they prove toxic. It was hard at first not to let my jealous run wild, but I learned to manage it.

My gf has this long distance friend who wasn’t always long distance, we’ll call him Sam. Sam and her have been friends since they were teenagers. I only heard about stories of Sam. Sam moved in the area and my gf and him have been hanging out. I’ll be honest I was jealous. They had better conversations, they motivated each other in ways I didn’t know I could motivate my gf. I felt like everything they did was a slap in the face that should have been together.

My gf has her life together and so does Sam. I often feel like I don’t and my gf often emotionally supports me. I don’t really feel like I can do that for her equally. (I do put in the effort but she doesn’t have as many problems as me/her problems she always in the conversation that they’re her problems to fix). She doesn’t outwardly ask Sam to support her, she’ll just mention in passing about something and he just good at letting her rage out.

To deal with my jealousy, my gf gave me her location, would let me know when she was hanging out with Sam, offered to let me pick out outfits, and ask all questions I wanted. Even with all that I still didn’t feel it. It wasn’t that they were doing anything, it was the fact they were a better match. I finally asked her if she ever did have feelings for Sam and she just straight up said no.

So she made me hangout with Sam. And I started hanging out with him more. Hes a lot, but good hearted. He was a guy I actually opened up to and didn’t regret it. I didn’t tell him the stuff I felt about him and my gf but we talked about other things and how it’s hard to be a man sometimes.

Later Sam invited us over to his place for dinner. He said he had something to ask us. He did this confession where he had fallen for the both of us and wanted us to be a three way couple.

I was shocked because at first I thought I finally had my proof something was going on between my gf and Sam. Before I could fully process that thought, my gf declined. She said that she isn’t interested in Sam that way, and my gf and I had talked about polygamy and we never liked the idea of it for us.

She wasn’t lying about the polygamy thing we have talked about it and really didn’t like the concept. We needed up leaving and hugged sam goodbye. She thanked him for asking us both at the same time and they’d talk soon.

On the way home I thought about it and I was kinda annoyed. I was annoyed my gf made that decision so quickly without even discussing it. So I asked her and she just said that we’ve talked about it already and we weren’t interested in the hypothetical and she doesn’t like Sam like that. She apologized for letting her gut do the talking but she can’t imagine having a third.

I had started thinking about Sam as a third when he had brought it up and it didn’t seem bad. His confession was genuine. I thought it was mean how fast she said no. And maybe Sam would be the only one who could be our hypothetical 3rd if we ever wanted that.

I think I’m more offended that my gf has always been more decisive than me. She has been the one holding the reins in this relationship. It hasn’t been all bad, but when I wanted to talk about getting serious she wasn’t ready, but then later she was ready and I wasn’t. When I wanted her to move in with me she didn’t because she was ready and didn’t want to give up her space, but when she found a bigger place for us she was ready.

I’ve been kinda cold to her and she asked what’s wrong and I just told her I wish we would talk about this instead of letting your gut talk. She’s grown a little distant just saying she doesn’t know what she wants to say to that because she thought we were on the same page and I said she always assumes we are but we don’t talk.

[yizhou-time]

[ 05.30 ] idol!wooyoung — angst / open ending(?)

the argument from six hours ago was still ringing in your head when wooyoung sat with you. the pair of you situated on the stairs outside the home you owned, hot drink in hand. originally you wanted some time to think but he wasn’t going to have you out there alone in the dark. he turned to you, observing you with the street lamp being the only thing lighting up the area. you knew he was looking but you didn’t have the energy to acknowledge it and instead stared forward while sipping your tea.

it was quiet for a while. both of you sat shoulder to shoulder with words at the tip of your tongue but neither of you knew how to say anything without hurting the other.

time goes by and you finish your drink, after placing the mug down next to you wooyoung takes it as an opportunity to lock his fingers with yours. his other hand reaches over to fix your jacket before he leans on your shoulder.

“i’ll love you harder, i promise. i’ll love you the way you deserve. what i’ve been doing isn’t fair. you didn’t sign up for this, it was a stupid thing to say, no one deserves to be pushed around.” he snuggles in closer to you, sighing as he does. “i really do love you, i don’t know why i got so bad at showing you. i’m so sorry.”

he expects you to respond however you’re still frozen in place. this happened all the time. you argue, he says something out of line, you say things in retaliation but not once has he apologised before. it was weird.

“you made me cry.”

“i know and i’m sorry, my love.”

“night after night i’d be sat here or in bed or wherever you left me and i’d just cry. i never said anything because i didn’t want to change anyone’s perception of us. even when you’re right next to me i’ll always miss you.” he lifts his head up, confused, and this time you turn to him while placing your other hand on his. “i’ll miss what we had and who we were no matter how many times we make up.”

you watch as tears pool in his eyes. he’s hurt but he understands it’s not your fault. it’s his. he lifts your hand up and places a kiss on the top, before he can do anything more though you pull your hands out of his grasp.

“maybe you’re the right person at the wrong time.” you pick up your mug and stand up, ready to go in.

wooyoung grabs your hand quickly. “if i was the right person then there would be no wrong time.”

“then maybe we aren’t supposed to be together.”

he watches you walk inside while he sits on the steps alone. the soft click of the door shutting reminds him how alone he really is at the moment. each tear falls one by one and there’s nothing he can do to stop them. soon the quiet sobs turn into quiet wails and pleas for you to still love him. he imagines that this is what it was like for you, either waiting for him until early morning the next day or him walking out after another spat. he had to prove to you he loved you before it was too late and you were gone for good.

you listen to his cries with your back to the door. you could go out there and comfort him but your heart reminds you that he never did the same for you so instead you wash up your mug quietly and go back to bed. you’re sure wooyoung will join you eventually, he always does.

[mactavishsgfandwife]

saw that ur reqs r open, and i love all ur work sooo here i am lol

what would the tf141 boys be like w a reader who’s into horror? (i was thinking reader is like rlly sweet but loves playing horror video games or smth, but u can interpret it however u want!)

i can js imagine johnny freaking out when he sees reader playing like,,silent hill or smth. or resident evil 7 (can u tell im a horror game nerd lol)

but yeah! js a silly little idea i had, feel free not to write it if u don’t want to! have a good day, ily!

TF141 Watching a Horror Movie With You 🎃

hi omg this is such a cute concept!! thank you so much for the support, you have no idea how much i appreciate it! i have so many ideas for them with someone who loves horror movies so that’s what this post is about (i hope that’s ok :( ) but i’ll try to write about horror games another time because that’s such a cute concept! i just have lots of ideas for this one rn so i thought i’d do it first female reader, fluff, not proofread <3

Simon "Ghost" Riley thinks it’s cute that you love horror movies. He spends half his life in a real-life horror, he’s seen things that you could never imagine. Teasingly calls you a ‘psycho’ for just sitting there happily, cuddled up to him as you watch something absolutely terrifying go down on the screen.

Simon is a pain in the ass to watch certain horror movies with, because if guns or fighting are involved then he will make sure to point out to you exactly what the directors got wrong.

"He’s holding it wrong… if I even… Price’d never let me hear t’end of it," he mumbles, not talking to anyone in particular.

When you cuddle on the sofa, if you’re laying face down on his chest, he loves to keep one hand on your ass. Sometimes, if something does make him jump, he’ll squeeze it out of instinct.

People don’t usually expect it but you’re very good with scary stuff, you rarely ever get spooked out. But sometimes you do, especially if you’re tired and it’s late.

Once, after you’d watched a film, you went to get ready for bed and Simon went ‘to eat something’. Even when you were all changed and ready for bed, he still hadn’t returned, and so - twiddling your fingers together for reassurance - you peeked out into the darkened hallway.

Only for a 6'4" soldier in a skull mask, wielding a cup of tea, to jump out at you from behind.

You screamed, stumbling back in a state of panicked confusion, about to cry out for Simon when you came to your senses and realised that the masked intruder was Simon.

He stood there, laughing his ass off, until he realised that you were obviously very on edge and a little bit teary eyed.

"C’mere…" he sighed, placing down his tea to take you into his arms, "i’m sorry, baby girl, please don’t cry…" Your heart was racing and you were debating whether or not to slap him, but you knew he didn’t mean to upset you. And you were happy so long as he made up for it.

Soap Mactavish claims that he’s not scared of anything. Nooo, no way, he’s not scared. He’s so not scared that he’s looking away and squeezing your hand.

Poor guy is so easily jumpscared, it makes you giggle.

"You sure this i’nt going t’be too scary for you, bonnie?" he coos, placing an arm around your shoulder as he half-watches the film that has plunged into a strange silence. He’s definitely trying (and failing) to be subtle as he flexed his muscular arms a little bit, in an attempt to show off.

"Oh yeah, don’t worry," you nod sweetly, smiling up at him.

"I’m just saying, angel, if you need to bury your head into my chest, or if you can’t look, then that’s okay, you just go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’m a soldier, I could easily take on any- Shit! Fucking hell!" he jumps, squealing and then clearing his throat in a poor attempt to disguise it.

"You sure this isn’t going to be too scary for you, bonnie baby..?" you tease, kissing his cheek.

"Lay off it," he pouts, blushing a little bit as he nuzzles his face into your hair.

Alsoooo Johnny is a fiend for feeling you up when you’re watching a film together. He sees it as a perfect opportunity to get to know his pretty lass a little bit better.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick’s favourite part of movie night is the food. He loves takeaway (he’s definitely a Nando’s lover) but his absolute favourite food is your home cooking. When he was asked his favourite food when he was younger, he was always the one kid who would say "whatever my mum makes!" and now he’s an adult it’s just the same, but "whatever my girlfriend makes!" Whenever he realises you’re going to watch a film, whether you invited him or not, he will call out to you from the other room to "HOLD ON!" as he grabs snacks and drinks for the two of you.

Gaz isn’t too easily creeped out, but it happens. He’ll never admit that it’s because he was scared, but you’ve definitely noticed him ‘accidentally’ leaving the hallway light on. If it wasn’t an ‘accident’, then he obviously did it so that you wouldn’t feel scared in the night. He probably realises that you can see right through him, but you always say you believe him, just to make him feel better.

Kyle’s favourite horror movie series is Paranormal Activity, because it’s a so-bad-it’s-good kind of thing. He loves sitting in bed, eating popcorn, with you in his lap, laughing til you cry at all his jokes about how horrendously made the films are. Once, he was taking the piss out of how bad the film you were watching was and then immediately got jumpscared. He even let out a weird noise in shock - he didn’t hear the end of it for weeks.

Even if he’s not cuddling you as close as possible, Gaz loves to rouch you, usually by holding you with one arm as you rest your head on his shoulder. He is a serial thigh-squeezer.

John Price is a total dad, and that extends to when you can convince him to watch one of your favourite films with you. He wants to watch the movie, it’s not his fault if he falls asleep 15 minutes in every single time.

He lets you lay on his broad chest, that’s warm and rises and fall under your head, while he rests his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. He’s prone to snoring, too - in past, you’ve had to rewind the film because you missed part of it while you were trying to get him to wake up and shut up. The only sureproof way to wake him up is to try and move off of him - he’ll open one eye and grumble at you, as he pulls you right back into him.

"You’re not even watching the film, you’re asleep…" you whine, looking up at him.

"’M watching, love. Shhh," he mumbles, eyes still closed as he softly pats your hair.

"Are not," you pout.

"Shhh. ‘M trying to watch this," he hushes you, eyes closed and totally ready to go back to sleep. You’re almost annoyed at him but he makes that very hard, breathing softly through that moustache as he presses you against him, like you’re a teddy or a weighted blanket.

In terms of the films himself, Price isn’t easily scared (partly helped by the fact that he spends half of the time asleep). The first time that you two watched something scary together, he was almost expecting you to be terrified, but he was pleasantly surprised when you weren’t. He thinks it’s funny how you can sit in his lap perfectly happy and watch something that would have any ‘sensible’ (as he puts it) girl screaming.

He either gets very irritated by the main characters making terrible decisions and getting themselves into trouble, or finds it hilarious. He also loves to rub your feet while you watch the movie, literal princess treatment.

i kind of want to watch a horror movie nowwww

all pictures are from the game or from pinterest as far as i’m aware

i hope this was ok for you!!! i know it’s not exactly what you wanted but maybe we can just consider it part 1 of the horror obsessed reader saga >:)

masterlist

[devildomwriter]

At The Dance vol 2

Diavolo: “Well then, I suppose there’s only one part of the school festival at this point, right? So, who did you decide to go to the dance with, MC?”

Lucifer

Lucifer: “MC… Hello. I hope you haven’t been waiting long. Come on, let’s get going.”

At the dance

Lucifer: “Everyone’s looking at us. I suppose it’s not surprising. After all, I’ve never danced with anyone at one of these events before. You’re the first. …Do you remember that one lime I said to you during the play? In case you’ve forgotten, it went like this… ”MC, I love you.” Well, we may not be on stage now, but I’m happy to say it again. As many times as you’d like. I love you, MC. Truly and deeply…”

Mammon

Mammon: “Yo, MC! I’m here! So, Whaddya say we get goin’!”

At the dance

Mammon: “Is it just me, or were you gettin’ AWFULLY close to Lucifer during the play? I mean, you two didn’t get that close during rehearsal, did ya? …To be honest, it made me jealous. Like, don’t you get it, MC? You’re mine, okay?! Mine! So don’t go gettin’ all up close and personal with other guys! …Hey, after the dance, how about you come to my room?”

Leviathan

Leviathan: “Listen, are you sure you want to go with me? You aren’t regretting your choice, are you?! Well, either way, it’s too late to change your mind! You’re going with me to the dance, got it?”

At the dance

Leviathan: “Listen, MC… I want to thank you. It really made me happy when you stayed up all night with me working on that costume. I’m glad that we at least managed to get your costume done in time. You looked amazing in it. …! Ahh, sorry! I stepped on your foot again… I never thought I’d find myself on a dance floor, you know? It’s such a normie thing to do, and I’m no normie…But I promise to practice and get better…for you. So let’s do this again!”

Satan

Satan: “Have you been waiting on me, MC? Let’s get going. The dance is starting soon.”

At the dance

Satan: “I guess you managed to get all of us brothers to put aside our differences and make up… I know you’re good. But even so, this time I thought that you’d probably bitten off more than you could chew. But I was wrong. I guess that maybe when it comes down to it, you’ve got us all in the palm of your hand. …Even so, none of my other brothers get to dance with you tonight, do they? Just me. Which means you view me differently from them, don’t you? I’m special to you. It’s true, isn’t it? Tell me it’s true, MC…”

Asmodeus

Asmodeus: “Hehe… I see that you look adorable as usual, MC. I could almost eat you up! Well, shall we get going? We do want to miss our chance to show off in front of everyone!”

At the dance

Asmodeus: “So, what did you think of my performance, hm? Perfect, wasn’t it? I don’t need to try to be attractive… I just am! Still, I spend a lot of time thinking about which angels I’m best viewed from, so I look even more stunning. It’s a skill that translates well to the stage. Hehe. I bet seeing me in that play made you fall for me even harder, didn’t it? Well, you were amazing our there yourself, you know? So amazing that I almost forgot we were in the middle of a play. I wanted to take you in my arms and make you mine right then and there. To be honest, I’d like to do that right now. What do you say…interested? Because I’m free after this…”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub: “MC, have you been waiting on me? Mm, here’s hoping that there’s lots of good food at the dance…”

At the dance

Beelzebub: “You sure do work up an appetite performing in a play, huh… I thought that maybe I’d be so nervous that I wouldn’t realize I was hungry, but nope. You didn’t hear how my stomach was growling during the performance, did you? To be honest, I’d like to head over to the buffet right now… What do you say the two of us sneak over there after this song ends? Then we can eat and eat and eat to our heart’s content…together!”

Belphegor

Belphegor: “Hey MC, I’m here. Are you ready to go? Here, you can take my arm.”

At the dance

Belphegor: *sigh*… “I’ve got to say, I feel exhausted. But now that the play’s over, we don’t have to rehearse anymore. No more dealing with Simeon the drill sergeant. You must be pretty worn out yourself, right? Hey, is it okay if I sleep in your bed tonight? I’ll be nice… I’ll gently stroke your head until you drift to sleep. Oh, but…sorry in advance if I end up falling asleep before you do.”

Solomon

Solomon: “Wait…you mean to say you don’t have a date to the dance? Well, I was planning on going alone, too. Why don’t we lonely singles go together?”

At the dance

Solomon: “Haha. You know, you’re a pretty good dancer, MC. You learn quickly. …Or maybe it’s that I’m a good teacher? This is a dance, after all. It’s no fun if we both just stand around like wallflowers, is it? So why stop now? When the next song starts, let’s just keep dancing.”

Multiple

Luke: *blushing* “Wha?! MC… Just how many demons did you promise to go to the dance with?”

Diavolo: “I take it you mean to take turns dancing with each of them?”

Solomon: “…Let’s just hope there isn’t any bloodshed as a result of this.”

At the dance

Satan: “So, MC… It seems that one date to the dance wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

Mammon: “Man, humans are one thing, but you’ve got a lotta nerve tryin’ to okay multiple DEMONS like this.”

Leviathan: “This is why I hate normies! Always getting ALL the attention…always having ALL the fun…”

Belphegor: “Wow, I never thought you were the type of master to do something like this…”

Asmodeus: “So, Just one of us wouldn’t cut it, hm? Well well, aren’t you greedy? Tsk, what are we going to do with you?”

Beelzebub: “Still, it’s not like I don’t understand the feeling. One serving is never enough for me at dinner. I always need seconds. And thirds. And fourths…”

Lucifer: “Well, you got yourself into this. Now you’re going to have to deal with the consequences. You’re dancing with everyone.”

Luke: *sigh*… “I knew it. You’re all about to fight over who gets to dance with MC first, aren’t you?”

Diavolo: “Too bad. And to think, they’d just made up…”

Luke: “MC, why not try that trick of yours? You know…where you look at them and go “STAY!””

Diavolo: …*sigh* “MC hasn’t even said anything yet, and already you all look terrified.”

Luke: “I guess it’s a conditioned response at this point. They do it by reflex.”

And so the fun continued into the night, and many more memories were made…

Previous

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Aftermath || LN4 {13}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: Lando is still struggling with his anxiety and it seems to only grows with time as he tried to balance work and parenting. Warnings: 18+ only, hurt/comfort, mentions of dad!PND WC: 3.4K

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

“I thought this was supposed to get easier,” Lando grumbled as you sat in bed, your laptop screen filled with his image. The bright late afternoon sun was streaming through the window in your room but it was night where Lando was in Miami. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down. I can’t concentrate on the race because I’m thinking about you two, and I can’t be at home because of the race…I hate this.”

 “I don’t know if it's easier, but I guess it will become a new normal in time. We’ll be with you at the next three races, just have to make it through this one.”

“I need this two week break to hurry up and arrive. I just need to be able to go to put Ren to bed and tuck her in,” startled cries sounded from the cot across the room as Renleigh woke from her nap, “and I need to be there to pick her up when she cries. I think I’m going out of my mind.”

The catch in his voice broke your heart and you grabbed your phone off the bedside so you could message Max. “You don’t know how much I wish I could take away the hurt you’re feeling, Lan. I don’t want you to be alone so Max is getting on the first flight he can. And before you argue, he is happy to do it. We are both worried about you, babe.”

“No offence, love, but I don’t need Max, I need my family.” He dropped his chin onto his hand with a sigh. 

“I’m just a phone call away, day or night. But if you want snuggles, Max will have to do for a few more nights.” 

You left the laptop for a moment so you could reach into the cot and bring Ren over to see her daddy, waving her little hand to the camera. A smile finally graced his lips as he waved back and leaned closer to the screen to kiss his camera. 

Placing her on the bed, you both watched her try to crawl towards Lando. “That’s it, my girl,” he praised as she rocked forward before face planting into the soft blankets. “Getting there, you’ll be racing around in no time.”

“Speaking of racing, you should be getting ready for bed,” you reminded him gently. “Max will be there in the morning to keep you company and you know you can talk to him about anything.”

“You make it sound like I need counselling,” he joked but it fell flat when you shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, it’s just…your job is already so stressful, then the addition of a baby…it’s a big change and it’s alright to admit that. Dads can get PND too.” 

“Really?” His brows pinched together as he fell silent. 

“Even if you are fine, I think talking to someone else might still help. Remember when you got me to go to counselling? You said it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of and it isn’t.”

He didn’t look convinced as he muttered, “yeah, maybe.”

“Just think about it,” you suggested as he started to yawn. “And get some rest, babe. I love you.”

You felt like you had come out of hibernation as you sat beside Lando, your fingers entwined as he drove to Imola. Since giving birth you had hardly travelled anywhere, opting to keep Renleigh’s arrival private, so everyone close enough to know about her came to your house to visit her. That would all change on Sunday and to say you were nervous was the mother of all understatements.

Your stomach was tied up in knots just thinking about trying to navigate the busy paddock with your precious baby. Lando had already organised plenty of security to escort you everywhere but your overthinking and paranoia whispered that there were still so many things that could go wrong. It lingered even when you tried to focus on the here and now.

The radio played quietly in the background but it was Ren that you listened to, her babbling in response to Lando’s chattering keeping you both entertained and distracted. You turned in the seat to see her smile in the small mirror and her papaya socks kicking in the air.

“Someone is excited to make her debut,” Lando said with a chuckle. He gripped the wheel with one hand and the other came to rest on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. There had hardly been a moment where he wasn’t holding some part of you since his return, needing the comfort of your touch to ground himself and suppress his growing anxiety. 

This was the most relaxed he had been in months and you smiled back at him, grateful that your husband was returning to his old self. 

“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked with a nervous laugh between glances as he drove.

“Do you ever just stop and think ‘I have never been happier than I am at this moment’?” you asked as you traced the beauty spots that dotted his arm like a constellation of stars that would always lead you home. “It’s almost painful how happy I am right now, like my heart is going to burst right out of my chest.”

“Please don’t,” he chuckled, reaching up to stroke your cheek before concentrating back on the road. “That was me this morning, well, every morning I wake up beside you. Seeing the sunlight catch your hair, the peace on your face when you bury it in my neck and snore.”

Ren’s arms startled into the air at the sudden laugh you barked and Lando’s grin grew at the sound of pure, unfiltered joy. “That was almost romantic! You were so close to a blowjob, until you lied.”

“You do snore, and it’s cute!” he stated seriously before casting you a sly smile. “So about that blowjob…”

You leaned over the console and kissed the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the curve to his ear. “Tell me I snore one more time.” He clamped his lips closed and you smirked as you sat back in the seat. “Smart man.”

Lando put the car in park and turned the engine off but made no move to open the door as he sat quietly with his hands still on the wheel. His qualifying had gone great the day before and he was starting the race in P3 but the race was far from his mind as he looked at the high fence ahead, knowing the circuit was just on the other side.

“What if we are doing the wrong thing?”

“Lan, we can’t keep her bubble wrapped for the rest of her life. And we are going to make mistakes, that’s just a fact, but there’s only one way to find out.” You looked out the window and saw a group of men wearing McLaren shirts that showed off their large muscles. “Your papaya army has arrived, and they bought the big guns too.”

Lando snorted and relaxed a little, though the wariness never left his eyes as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stole a kiss. “Thank you.”

Lando’s fingers tightened around yours and he placed his other hand protectively over Renleigh’s back. He had debated putting her into the stroller that remained folded up in the car boot but the need to keep her close made him strap the front pack to his chest. Every few steps his head would dip down and he would place a tender kiss to the top of her head, whispering soothing words that were more for himself than her.

“What’s the weather forecast?” you asked as you tipped your head back to the skies and wondered if you had imagined the kiss of raindrop on your skin. 

“Chance of rain, but it should only be light.” He took a look around himself and narrowed his eyes at the grey clouds on the horizon before picking up the pace a little. His quick walk stalled when he reached the paddock gates and patted his pockets for his pass to scan and swore under his breath. 

“Looking for this?” you teased as you pulled his pass out of your pocket along with yours. 

“Have I told you how much I missed having you here?” he said as he took his pass and scanned it, his photo popping up on the little screen before he stepped through the barrier. 

“You may have mentioned it once or twice. Is Maria here already?”

Lando nodded, mentioning he had messaged her earlier and she had already arrived at the track with Zak. 

“Maybe grand-mere can look after you for a little while,” you whispered as you tickled Ren’s feet through her socks. “Then mummy and daddy can sneak off to his room for a few minutes.”

 “Minutes?” Lando scoffed at the insult and you grinned knowing his competitive side was coming out despite the fact the man’s stamina was far longer.

“If you want to prove me wrong…”

“I’ve done that multiple times a day, for the last two weeks, love,” he smirked as he whispered in your ear as you walked along. “But if your memory is that bad, I’m sure I can remind you.”

Your reply was lost as a huge swell of people came into view through the gaps in the wall of muscle ahead, the chaotic screams suddenly piercing the air as Lando was spotted by the crowd. Your mouth was still parted in shock but the sound of a shaky breath didn’t come from your lips. 

“Can we get to the garage, please?” you asked the head of security and he nodded, just as eager to make it through the mass of people. 

As effortless as Lando made it seem, he was never truly comfortable in large crowds and the birth of his daughter had only increased his social anxiety. You could feel it now as his palm heated against yours, his skin clammy and grip tightening to an almost painful hold. He was using you to anchor himself and fight back the panic so you bit the inside of your cheek and let him crush your hand.

“Almost there, baby,” you soothed as the men moved to the shape of an arrow that speared the crowd apart. 

Cameras flashed and fans screamed as they spotted the baby tucked into Lando’s chest, just the brown tufts of her curls visible. Those too were hidden as Lando cupped the back of her head and hummed a sweet lullaby to distract himself from the questions thrown his way. There was no way he could bring himself to stop and answer any of them until Ren was safely in the McLaren area, he couldn’t risk her safety among the strangers. It was only when he caught sight of the grey and orange coloured motorhome that he could muster up the courage to slip his hand away from yours and offer a small wave. 

The fear and reservations you had held never had time to surface while you focused on Lando but when you passed the doors and the outside world was silenced you finally breathed a sigh of relief. “We did it, Lan.”

“I don’t like this,” he admitted as he continued to his driver room. A bassinet was already set up with McLaren blankets and it made his lips twitch into an almost smile as you helped him to take Ren out of the front pack. “I can’t believe she slept through all that.”

He placed her into the bassinet and tucked her in while you wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder. You knew it wouldn’t be long until she woke up for a feed as a heaviness ached in your breasts so you had to make the most of the quiet moments while you could, dragging Lando to the couch and forcing him to sit down. 

“What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?” you asked as you combed your fingers through his hair and tugged the stands so he looked at you. “Talk to me.”

“I thought having you both here would be easier, but I still feel sick,” he admitted after a minute of drawn out silence. “I need you here, don’t get me wrong, I hated being away from you but now I can't…I don’t even know how to explain it.”

You waited patiently for him to collate his thoughts, holding his hand while he watched Ren sleep peacefully. He longed for that peacefulness too.

“Infinite possibilities, it’s something Andrea gets us to think about when we race. One move can make a difference, one millimetre off the line could be the difference between the fastest lap or ending up in the gravel. Every action has an infinite amount of possibilities and it’s my job to figure out which is most likely to happen.” He took a deep breath from his quiet ramblings and exhaled a long sigh as he slowed down his words. “I can’t stop thinking about the infinite possibilities with Ren. Every bad thing that could happen, everything that could go wrong, I see it in my head. All. The. Time. I can’t stop.”

His words died out with a sob and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into your embrace as he fell apart. This was the moment you had been expecting, though it was still gut wrenching to witness. All the ups and downs this season had been leading to one cataclysmic peak where he had to release the pent up thoughts he had tried to suppress.

“Do you remember that day at Silverstone, the first time I came back to the paddock?” You knew he was listening by the way he held his breath to silence the sobs that jolted his shoulders. Rubbing his back softly, you kissed his temple and stared at the poster on the wall, seeing how much his face had matured in the last four years.

“When I sat in your room alone it was like time stood still. I had so much time to think that I imagined every horror scenario of you and your car and that fear made my stomach turn. I couldn’t eat anything all day,” you admitted as he pulled back with shimmering eyes and damp cheeks. “But the moment I saw you napping in the cockpit of your car I could finally think again. Not a single one of those scenarios came close to what was actually happening in that moment.”

You wiped his eyes and cupped his face in your hands. “It doesn’t matter that there’s endless possibilities for how the future might go, Lando. All that matters is this moment, and wasting time thinking about things that may never even happen only makes us miss out on today.”

“You aren’t scared we are making the wrong decisions?”

“Of course I’m scared, babe. But I know the man I married and I know that the decisions we make, whether they are right or wrong, come from a good place.” You placed a hand over his heart, feeling the bump under his shirt of the necklace he wore for Ren. “That’s the best any parent can hope for.”

His hand came to rest over yours for a moment before he lifted it to his lips and kissed your wedding ring. “I need to go but I’ll be back before the race starts.”

You nodded as he went to the small bathroom and washed his face, looking clear headed and calm once more. “Are you alright?” you asked as he started to undress and grab his fireproofs from the closet.

He pulled the skin tight material over his head and looked at your reflection in the mirror. “No, but I will be.”

The honesty was more relieving despite his words and you were glad he hadn’t just lied and said he was fine.

With a small smile, he leaned into the bassinet and kissed Ren’s cheek. “I love you, little lady, more than anything in this whole wide world.”

Five years after Imola had stolen your breath away, it had done it again. This time your voice was hoarse from the screams of support and happiness as Lando won the race.

It was as if all the tears ever shed at the circuit were released from the heavens to cascade upon the track with only three laps to go. Max and Charles had just passed the pit entrance before the deluge fell but Lando had made the split second decision to box and change to full wets. He had quickly caught up with the better grip and took the lead when they pitted on the next lap.

You hadn’t been able to move from where you stood rooted on the balcony in front of the home straight. Lando had always been able to dance in the rain, making his car sing in harmony to the beat of the drops on the blacktop. This was his element, but every turn gave you heart palpitations.

Yellow flags flew as some drivers tried their luck with their slicks, praying the rain would pass, only to spin out when they hit a puddle. One rookie aquaplaned off the track, leaving tire ruts in the grass, before rejoining the track and you gasped as Lando had to swerve to avoid him.

“We saw there was a close call on that final turn. How stressful was that?”

“It was scary, so scary. Knowing that my wife was watching just ahead, and seeing that car come right in front of me…my wife and my daughter, they were all I could think about. It’s so wet out there, turn too quick and there’s just no grip, nothing to keep me on the track. I was certain I was gone when that car came at me.”

Lando brushed his cap off and combed his hair as his lips pressed tight to hide the tremble. “It was so scary. You just have no idea what it’s like in those split seconds where you react on instinct and don’t know if you have just saved your life or forfeited it. It’s a risk, and I used to find it fun when I was younger but not now. I have too much to risk now.”

You cradled Ren closer as the McLaren team let you through to the front of the barrier. You hadn’t planned on stepping out of the motorhome but Lando was clearly not okay and you needed to get to him.

“It’s hard to be excited over winning when I thought I had just about made my wife a widow again, or that my daughter was going to grow up and not know me,” he said, answering another question that you had missed as you navigated your way out of the garage. “As much as I love this sport, and I am grateful for all the people who have helped me to get to where I am, I love my family more.”

He seemed to sense you in the crowd and Renleigh started to cry in your arms as you reached the barrier. The reporter followed him as he crossed the short distance and pressed his sweaty forehead to yours. “I’m going to be alright,” he whispered for only you to hear before he took Ren, who instantly settled on his shoulder, as the crowd ‘awww’d at the sight.

“I have been thinking hard about this for the last few months,” he continued as he gently bounced Ren back to sleep, “but this will be my last season in Formula One. I have always put 100% into what means the most to me and I haven’t been able to do that with racing taking me away from my family.”

The shock that rippled through the crowd and stunned the reporter into silence didn’t reach you. You had seen the look in his eyes when he parked in front of the 1st place signage and pulled his helmet off. He hadn’t thrown his hands in the air, he hadn’t waved to the crowd or his team. He had fallen to his knees and ripped his gloves off to feel the solid ground beneath his palms as the rain continued to fall.

The microphone shifted to you as you watched Lando hold Ren tighter and brush his lips over her dark curls. “It must have been harrowing to watch that last lap, especially since it wasn’t far from where you laid a wreath earlier today.”

“I trust every decision Lando makes. I knew he would make it through,” you said with a reassuring smile to your husband as you clutched the necklace that held your first wedding ring. “And every year when I visit I ask René to watch over him. Maybe he was listening all this time.”

Click here for the epilogue.

Tagging: @yunnie-f1 @neiich @zendayabelova @stillbreathin @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alwaysclassyeagle @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @lightsoutletsgo @pleasantducktimetravel @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @holy-macncheese-balls @belennasif @ophcelia @love4lando @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19

[losing-it-lately]

hey i have a request! i think i sent it wrong yesterday lol. could you do a steve harrington one-shot or blurb with the song “every breath you take” by the police?? thank you!

Every Breath You Take

wc: 0.7k

steve harrington x reader

kind of enemies to lovers? fluff too but they don't end up together, just steve realising he's pining

Steve doesn’t like you, and it isn’t going to change, no matter how many stupid multidimensional troubles you both are stuck in. It’s easy to not like you, because you’re stuck up, and weird, and smart, and because it’s a second nature for the both of you to hate; he’s been disliking you since the fourth grade.

It started on your birthday. The whole night before, your mum and you had spent hours baking two dozen chocolate cupcakes with all of your friends and adorning them in pink sprinkles. You brought them to school for your friends, so sweet and homemade, and you wouldn’t let him have one, not until he said your name at least. “My friends know my name,” you had said in your high pitched, child voice. And he knew your name, of course he did. Steve was just quiet, his face blushing red from embarrassment of being this close to the sweetest girl he knew and her assuming that he wouldn’t know her. And then you wouldn’t give him the cupcake after his stuttering of random vowels.

And then you wouldn’t speak to him or look at him, and then you both lost touch in middle school. Steve didn’t talk to you for a long time after that, pretending that he didn’t know your name. You hung out with Byers and your jokes would only be told to those around you, Steve wasn’t privy to your humour and your nonchalance and your maturity.

Then Will disappeared, and things turned to shit, and the both of you were dragged into this mess. Nancy broke Steve’s heart, and instead of letting you befriend him after all the shared trauma, he kept up the petty back and forth. It was easier taking care of the kids in Joyce’s house when you two were arguing and rolling your eyes instead of dealing with the fact that Will could die and El had just made her way back, only to immediately be taken to the lab swarming with demodogs.

So Steve and you don’t properly get along. You’re still sweet, and he’s a gentleman, but you just don’t ‘mesh’, at least that’s what he tells himself. And when he calls you a month later and offers to drop you with Dustin to the kids’ Snow ball, he again reminds himself of how much he ‘dislikes’ you. Infact, it's all he allows himself to think about as he lectures Dustin on the ways to charm and stun at the dance.

After a chatty few minutes, Steve parks outside your place. The front seat is empty, saved for the seniors in the car, and Steve is ready. He sees you make your way down the driveway in a fresh party dress. The sleeves are so big and the dress is so bright and you look like a flower, picked out of a garden and all Steve can think is about how he should have brought you flowers or a bouquet or maybe a whole flower store would make you smile. It hits him so hard and fast the Dustin picks up in it and immediately starts laughing, his raucous snorts bouncing around the car.

When you finally open the door and sit down, he swoons even more. Something about you glows under his car’s light and Dustin laughs harder. “What's so funny?” Steve is freaking out now. The dam has broken and the soft lilt of your voice is making him red on the edges of his ears.

“A joke! A stupid mistake I made, nothing big,” your face scrunches in confusion.

A million different thoughts run through Steve’s mind, but the most important one is that he needs to get you to the dance and then sit in his car for a long time and think about you.

The next few minutes blur together for Steve and he finally drops you and Dustin off. As Dustin hops off, you reach over and utter one last “goodbye” to Steve, before hugging him and leaving.

Right before Steve goes to bed that night, he reimagines the sweet scent of your perfume, the crisp fabric of your structured dress and the soft, warmth of your arms.

[aziraphales-library]

hello good people who guard this library ✨✨

thank you for your work, it has helped me find many fics I love that I'd probably never find on my own

I recently read a fic called rude awakening:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19243762

where some people from the discreet gentlemen's club are trying to figure out what the deal is with Aziraphale, and some of them even try flirting with him, until Crowley shows up and they realise "oh, he's taken"

I know my request is extremely specific but, do you know if there's any similar fics of people flirting with either Aziraphale or Crowley until the other one shows up and they realise they never stood a chance

Hi! Here are a few fics sort of along these lines...

nothing can get a look in on my baby by midnightdragons (T)

Aziraphale stood, then (using a miracle to ensure that his and Crowley’s table remained open and clean), and turned back towards the demon, slightly distracted as he made sure to disappear from Mr. Brown’s sight with a brief sigh of relief — a sigh that was quickly cut off as he was greeted with something much worse than the posh, stuffy carpet-store owner. Crowley was leaning against the bar counter, slightly slanted in his position as he craned away from a man who was much, much too close to him, enough that the demon would’ve been able to feel the heat of his breath on his face. 

An alternate scene of sorts. Aziraphale is the one to rescue Crowley from someone at the bar, with just a touch of angelic possessiveness; after all, no one hurts his demon.

Just be yourself by Mimisempai (G)

Aziraphale gets the impression that Crowley enjoyed their last visit to the pub and suggests that they return one night. What he didn't expect was that this time the situation would be reversed, and someone would take his place in front of Crowley, and he would feel this all-consuming jealousy...

Saturday Night in Soho by Zeckarin (T)

Kait simply wants to have a few drinks, and hopefully get lucky and bring someone home. There's a cute man with pale hair reading in the corner booth. What could go wrong?

A Devil's Touch by untimelysteph (T)

“Why did it bother you, angel?” Crowley asked with as much gentleness as he could muster so he didn't spook him. Aziraphale looked ready to bolt out of the shop at any moment. “Because, well, because, he didn’t ask, first of all, and no one should touch you without your express permission. And, for that matter, he isn’t worthy of touching you. No one is.” The angel was properly worked up now, his hands flailing animatedly as he continued, “That is to say, well, that I suppose I’m just not used to seeing you being touched like that. By… by other people. That, um, are not me.”

Just Kidding…..Unless? by Aziwaphale (T)

Crowley wasn't jealous that Aziraphale was getting hit on by that barista. And he certainly wasn't jealous when he found them talking at the bookstore. So why did he pretend that he was dating Aziraphale just to make him go away?

Trivial Pursuits by gildthelilli (T)

“Here’s some Wilde for you,” said Josh, sliding his hand upwards. “The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”...Josh’s hand was at the crease of Aziraphale’s thigh. It gave a rough squeeze. Oh. Oh no. “No, really, I’m flattered, but I don’t -“ Aziraphale was starting to get desperate. Some excuse. Anything to shake this human off. His heart was beating fast, his hands began to tremble. “I think you do,” leered Josh. “Look at you. Don’t resist, Zira. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.” “Joshua, I am not interested, you insufferable man…” Aziraphale trailed off as he looked around, frantic now. He looked to the bar, where a man – or something man-shaped in tight black pants - was pocketing his wallet and grabbing the bottle of scotch from the counter. Aziraphale swallowed, watching as Crowley began to make his way back over to the table. “I have a boyfriend,” blurted Aziraphale. ---- Aziraphale and Crowley go drinking at pub trivia when a man from another team takes an interest in Aziraphale. Crowley is not impressed. Shenanigans ensue.

And the one you mentioned...

Rude Awakening by Nonesensed (M)

Crowley disappears for close to a century and then comes sauntering back into Aziraphale's life, nearly bringing about a riot as he does. Aziraphale is suitably miffed.

- Mod D

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 17 . Heterogeneity (2)

a/n: my body's crashing but midterms are ending soon so hopefully I'll be able to sleep

tags: implications of torture (squint really hard to see it), yandere-ish if you squint, Cale is unconscious again

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist prev . next

_____ was walking down in the halls just outside Cale’s room. With nothing better to do after talking to Rosalyn, they decided to go out and help Pendrick heal injured soldiers outside. 

However, not 10 steps in and a certain red-haired man is shoving them back into the room they came from.

“What are you doing out? You should be lying down.”

Surprisingly enough, it’s Choi Han who spoke up and not Cale.

“Even if you heal fast there’s no way a wound that severe has fully closed up.”

The swordmaster had a look of disapproval on his face and _____’s poor heart just dropped. Never in their life had they seen Choi Han this disappointed with them.

“What did you even do yesterday? We still don’t know what happened.”

Cale tucked the healer in bed tightly as if they didn’t wake up just half an hour ago. _____ tried to get back up again but thought against it when they saw how the golden dragon was guarding the door with Choi Han guarding the end of the bed.

“I really don’t need to rest more, I swear my wound is almost healed.”

“Almost healed is different from fully healed. You will stay in this bed until we go back to the underground villa. I won’t take no for an answer.”

That shut _____ up.

However, the silence did not last long.

“Start explaining what the hell happened yesterday. Choi Han told you that you told him about how you discovered something.”

Cale sat at the end of the bed. Meanwhile, Eruhaben moved to sit on the couch with Choi Han taking over his place to stand at the door.

“Huh? Oh yes, it was also back when you guys went to Paerun Kingdom.”

The healer forgot for a moment about what they did yesterday. Mind too clouded by the things they talked about with Rosalyn earlier.

“My powers work like a transfer right? Oh right, Eruhaben-nim didn’t know, I’m sorry. So usually I would absorb someone’s wounds or whatever and then I would give and multiply my vitality right?”

Eruhaben started wondering how he got surrounded by so many unlucky people before his death. However, no one in the room knew about his thoughts.

“It got me wondering if I can do the opposite. You know, transfer and multiply my wound and then get their vitality or something along those lines.”

“Huuu”

Cale couldn’t help but sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“You do know that this wasn’t what Ron meant when he told you to create something of your own, right?”

“It wasn’t? But isn’t it still a good idea.”

“_____-nim… that’s not…”

Choi Han started wondering why his serving two self-sacrificial young masters. Just like with the gold dragon, no one else knew about his thoughts.

“Yes, I know… Rosalyn-unnie already scolded me about it. I’m really sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“And what exactly are you sorry for?”

Cale’s gaze looked as though he was ready to get disappointed by whatever the healer was about to say.

“No really, I know what I did wrong this time. I’ll try not to put myself in danger next time. I’m really sorry for worrying everyone, I know I acted rashly.”

“Try?”

Eruhaben’s voice rang out for the first time since they got inside the room.

“I mean it’s a good ability… I was just unlucky this time because that half-dragon got away before I could steal some vitality… Plus, wouldn’t it be super helpful? Like imagine I have just a tiny cut but when I transfer it to the enemy it can become a lethal wound.”

While Cale is glad _____ is more lively and doesn’t act like a puppet anymore, he's not happy about this newfound stubbornness. Where did the healer even learn it from? But just like the other two men, no one else knew about his thoughts.

The commander doesn’t want to restrict the healer’s movements or freedom. Not only would it be annoying to have to constantly look after them, but it would be similar to how they used to live when they were with the Perduellios.

But at the same time, this discovery is dangerous when left alone.

“Haaa, you’ll only use that ability when it’s an emergency or when I allow you to. Unnecessarily use that power again and see if Beacrox will prepare any more desserts for you.”

Not Beacrox’s desserts, _____ loves those.

The crestfallen healer only nodded in agreement. But honestly, they don’t fully understand why everyone is acting as though they have no self-preservation. It’s not like they won’t heal. Did everyone miss the part when _____ said they can absorb another person’s vitality?

If there’s someone in their group who has no self-preservation it’s gotta be Cale, not them.

True to Cale’s words _____ didn’t get to help out in anything for the remaining time they were in Caro Kingdom. Every attempt of theirs would get shut down by everyone. The healer thought it would get better after they fully healed.

Yes and No

After resting for a bit in the super rock villa, _____ has been allowed to go back to their regular duties. However, Cale stuck the healer to him like glue. From war battles to stealthy operations to more battles. From the Caro Kingdom to the Roan Kingdom to the Western Continent to the Empire. No matter where Cale went _____ is with him. 

Well, not like _____ has a problem with it so they just let it be.

Plus they know that if they want, they can ask Cale anytime to leave them in Leeb-An City or the underground villa.

But they didn’t because just as it eases Cale’s mind to have the healer with him (not that he’d admit it), _____’s mind is also at ease whenever they are with Cale.

Or so it was.

If _____ hated Adin and the White Star before, they loathe them now.

"I-I don't understand, his body is completely fine. I have also replenished his energy however he won't wake up."

It’s been more than a week since the day Cale fainted. Yet he still showed no signs of waking up. To some extent, the healer could tell that the redhead’s body needed rest from overexerting.

But almost two weeks?

Who wouldn’t worry?

The only silver lining to all this is that it gave the Medicus some time to ponder about their feelings. Gave them time to think as to how they’d handle this garden called love whose flowers are blooming more and more in _____’s heart every day.

Ultimately they have decided to not do anything.

What _____ has concluded these days is that the form of love they want to give is support. For them that's what love is, supporting your loved ones even if he's unaware of their feelings. Being there whenever he needs them and expecting nothing in return.

And that’s exactly what the healer did.

They helped in any way they could. From healing the injured to helping with the paperwork. Sometimes Rosalyn and Raon had to remind _____ that they must rest, that they were overworking themself, and that the matters of the empire could wait until they got some rest.

_____ tries their best to listen. However, they would be seen doing the same thing again two days later.

“Cale seems to have like-minded people around him. Are you also not interested in a noble title?”

Alberu and  _____ are sitting across from each other. Both working on their own pile of paperwork.

“Under no circumstances was I ever interested in such things Your Highness. However more than that, I believe it would be unfair for our citizens if the Perduellio’s rise again when they got such a light sentence.”

The crown prince nodded in understanding. As someone who is always thinking about what’s best for the kingdom and its citizens, he could tell where the healer is coming from.

However, there’s a mistake in what _____ said.

A light sentence? That’s far from the truth.

Even thinking about what happened to that family sends a shiver down the quarter Dark Elf’s spine.

The official statement for what happened to the Perduellios is that the entire family have been stripped of their title and all their assets have been seized by the crown. As far as everyone knows they are now somewhere living as peasants.

But isn’t it weird that no one has seen them?

Cale has been… looking after them, for the lack of a better word. Alberu may not know the full story but he surely knows the extent of the young master’s anger.

He low-key wishes he could erase from his mind the condition of that cell and its inhabitants.

“However Medicus-nim, are you aware that you can’t live in hiding forever?”

Alberu pushes his other thoughts away. Why bother dwelling on them when only he, Cale, Tasha, and Beacrox know what happened? For now, he’ll focus on this paperwork and his conversation with the healer.

“Very much so your highness. I have lived my entire life hiding. What is a few years more?”

_____ paused for a second to take a second look at the document they are currently reading.

“However your Highness, the same thing cannot be said for you. This is prime time for you and the other Dark Elves.”

Alberu lets out a hearty laugh at that.

“Of course Medicus-nim. Yet you got one thing wrong. This is also a prime time for you. Worry not as I will surely allow you to live as Roan Kingdom’s Medicus once more. Consider it as my reward for putting up with a certain redhead.”

_____ tried to deny it. Tried to say that they did not need such things. Nonetheless, Alberu did not relent. He and Cale had already agreed that they would let this poor healer live out their life after being used like a tool since childhood.

Plus the blonde is seriously getting tired of Cale ranting about how suffocated _____ is having to wear a mask all the time even if they don’t complain.

"It's fine to be greedy sometimes you know? Sometimes it's all right to take whatever it is you want."

Alberu did not look at _____ as he spoke. Instead, he's looking at the unconscious commander on the luxurious bed.

_____, who understood what the crown prince meant, felt embarrassed. Their face turned into a light hue of pink as they thought of a retort.

However, Alberu did not let them do so. He simply motioned over to the healer with his glance before continuing the paperwork in his hands. _____ followed suit, and soon the room was filled with silence again, the only exceptions being the rustling of papers and their pens scribbling.

bonus-ish: sometimes I can't help but comment while I'm wrting lol

[blaxcunicorn]

One-shot

Heeey! I just wrote something random as I felt a bit inspired after reading Just kids by Patti Smith. I have been busy with my exams which is why I've been gone for so long but we back!

Content: fem!reader, NSFW warning, Rockstar Eren before fame, friends to lovers, poverty

You hissed as you cut your pinky finger on a thorn while making a flower bouquet for a customer. You sucked it up and gave the sweet lady her bouquet with a smile. “It’s perfect, thank you. My daughter is going to love it.” She smiled. Her smile warmed your heart. Being a florist wasn’t the most fulfilling job, but making people like her smile motivates you. Well, that and putting food on the table. You grew up in the city's poorer side, so there weren’t many opportunities for you after high school. The florist job was the best thing you could find, it isn’t all bad, the owner has been nothing but kind to you. You heard the doorbell ring as Mrs Johnson came walking into the shop with bags that smelled like heaven. She and her husband owned the bakery next to the shop, and they would always bring you the leftovers of the day. “Here, my love, it’s not that much, but hopefully, it is enough for a day.” She smiled gently. You opened the bag; it was a sandwich, a croissant, and a whole loaf of bread. “This is more than enough, thank you.” You said gratefully, setting the store ready for closure. 

You walked into your tired apartment building, greeting the tired landlord who was seated at his usual desk spot. He gave you a sad smile as you stood outside your brown door with an eviction note taped on it. They were increasing the rent, and you were already struggling to meet the current increase of the last one. You had to sell your bed in order to afford last month’s payment. You opened the door to your small yellow-walled studio. You put the bakery bag on the counter, grab the sandwich, and cut it in half, leaving the other piece on the plate. As you sat down with your sandwich, you noticed a pair of pants with holes on the left knee on the table. You shook your head and pulled out your sewing equipment. As you almost finished stitching the pants, you heard the familiar sound of the heavy steps of construction boots.

Eren entered the room, greeting you with a warm grin. “Man, I’m exhausted, Gold, but how was your day?” He asked, putting his yellow helmet on the counter. He has called you Gold since childhood, which you never entirely understood. You and Eren grew up as neighbours in the very same building. You lived in another apartment with your grandmother, and Eren lived with his parents. Life dealt the two of you shitty cards, and Eren’s mother was killed in a robbery gone wrong when you were only five years old. His father passed away from a heart attack when he was fifteen, and he had to drop out of school to find a job. Your grandmother didn’t have the financial means to help him, but she would cook him meals as often as possible. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long, as she passed away when you were sixteen. Eren offered you to move in with him so that you didn’t have to drop out like him. Mrs Johnson, who was your grandmother’s friend, helped you get a part-time job as a florist. You managed to finish high school, and well here you are. 

“Hello, Gold. Are you okay?” He asked, looking concerned. You jump a little as you had zoned out, I mean, how could you not? The construction job had made Eren quite built, he literally looked like a Greek God. “I’m fine, sorry. Just a little tired, that’s all.” You smiled while finishing the pants throwing it at Eren. “Thanks, you’re the best!” He grinned, caught it, and grabbed the other half of the sandwich. His smile disappeared the moment he came closer. He held your hand and stroked your finger with his thumb. “Don’t worry, I just cut myself a bit at work”, you smile, trying to ease the tension. Eren doesn't respond, his eyes are focused on the scar. “I will provide you a life where you don't have to take jobs that will leave you scars” he muttered. “Huh?” You said, looking confused. “Nothing..Hey, I brought a surprise!” He grinned, pulling out two bottles of cheap white wine. “What are we celebrating?” You smile, folding his pants. “The guys and I finished fixing the van! We are leaving for LA  by the end of next week!” He said excitedly, pulling out two plastic cups. You swallowed hard but tried to put on a smile for him, although your eyes were stinging. 

Eren learned how to play guitar from Armin’s grandfather at the age of fifteen. He owned an instrument shop and noticed that a couple of kids were interested in the instruments. It was first Connie who came in looking at the drums. Armin’s grandfather sat the bold boy down and taught him how to play the instrument. The second time Connie came, he brought his friend Jean. Jean was mesmerised by the beautiful black and white bass. Which after a few weeks, it became his best friend (after Connie, ofc!).

 Lastly, we have Eren, he was on his way home from work when he saw Armin’s grandfather struggle with some boxes. He offered to help, which the elderly man accepted. One of the boxes contained a black electric guitar. Armin’s grandfather offered Eren to try it out as he saw his green eyes glow at the sight of it. Weeks later, he introduced the three boys to his grandson Armin who could play both keyboard and guitar. The boys quickly became friends and started playing together in the evenings. Armin’s grandfather believed that it was better for the boys to be distracted from the crimes in the city, and what better distraction than music? The elderly man passed away four years later. From there on, the boys knew that they wanted to start a band and make it out of the city. They found an abandoned van that they spent a year fixing with the help of Jean’s mechanic background. The plan was to use the van to drive to LA and sleep in it if they couldn't afford a Motel. Now it being done meant that Eren would soon leave to follow his dreams. 

You took the cup, he offered you, “Cheers to you for making it in LA!” You said, smiling. “Cheers for the two of us making it in LA!” The Chestnut-haired man said, correcting you. “Us? As in..” 

“Would you think that I would leave you behind in this shitty city?” Eren asked, looking at you like you had stated something silly like the moon was made out of cheese. “Yeah, I mean…ehm”, you played with your fingers. The guys always referred to you as their fifth member. You weren't a direct member of the band, but you had sewed them a few pieces to wear when they’d do free bar performances. “I could never leave you behind, it’s you and me against the world. Like it always has been.” He grins, toasting his wine before downing it in one go. It warmed your heart to know that Eren would never forget about you. After finishing the bottles, the two of you are pretty drunk. “Eren, could you please play something for me?” You ask, batting your eyelashes.

You look so damn cute drunk. How could he say no? “Sure, what song?.” He says, picking up his guitar. “This Charming Man!” You say excitedly. You danced to Eren’s angelic voice, “Ah, a jumped-up pantry boy who never knew his place!” You shout, and Eren gets up and dances with you. One day, I will write you a song that will make you dance like that, he thought to himself.  The two of you danced like you had no care in the world, as putting food on the table was not an issue, as you weren’t surrounded by crime and death. 

The two of you lie in bed, dizzy and out of breath but happy. You turn your bodies to face each other. “Eren, did you mean it when you said that it was the two of us against the world?” You ask for reinsurance. “Of course I did, I can’t imagine any other woman by my side but you.” The alcohol in his system was exposing him. You smiled while massage his ear lobe. “Is that so?” You whispered, dying of happiness on the inside. He doesn’t respond but looks at you like a lovesick crackhead. Your cheek burned, and you turned your head to face the cracking roof in embarrassment. 

Eren cupped your cheeks, forcing you to face him again. You leaned into the warmth of his rough hands. “What am I to you, Eren?” Your lips were almost touching, and the smell of wine filled your nose. He leans in and kisses you passionately. His lips were a big contrast to his hands. You felt a needy heat growing between your legs, it seemed like Eren was reading your mind as he slid his two fingers under your dress. “Already wet for me?” He whispered. “Yes,” you whined.

 Eren removed your dress and underwear, and you hissed in the chilly air. Eren doesn’t break eye contact with your as he spreads your legs and gives your cunt a long lick from the bottom of your vulgar, covering his tongue with your sweet juices. “God, Gold…you…taste…so…good”, he whispered, diving into your cunt. “Ah, Eren” you moan. You were confident that your neighbour Eric on the other side of the wall heard you.

 All Eren cared about right now was to make you cum, to release you from all the stress from your everyday life. "'I’m gonna cum," you whimpered, realising all over his mouth. “Good girl”, he whispered, kissing you, letting you taste yourself. “Eren, can you please fuck me?” you asked pathetically. He flipped you on your stomach. He leaned over and growled in your ear, “You don’t have to ask me twice. Get on all fours,” and kissed your back. You did what he demanded, feeling shivers all over your body.

 Eren collected cum from your vagina and smeared it all over his veiny cock. He gripped tight around your hips and hissed as he was entering you. Eren pumped slowly back and forth, the air was filled with your moans as your pussy was getting used to Eren’s colossal size. “Fuck”, he moaned as he started speeding up, digging his finger further into your flesh. “Gold, fuck me back. Fuck your cock back, it’s all yours”, he growled. Being the obedient woman you were, you threw your ass back. “Harder” he demanded, spanking you. “Ah, fuck Eren”, you moaned as your arms gave up on you and collapsed on the bed. That didn’t stop Eren as he lifted your hips and placed his cock inside of you. “Fuck, your pussy feels good. Keeping this from me for six years,” he groaned, continuing fucking you. Your face was on the pillow, which was a good thing as you were a moaning mess. 

Your eyes teared up as you felt your second climax blossoming. Eren could tell as you clenched around him, “Give it to me, give it to me.” He growled, feeling you squirt all over him. “Gold, I’m not finished. Take this cock.” He demanded, filling the air with your whimpers and the sound of your skin slapping. You used the last energy to get on all fours again, fucking him back “Ah, fuck! You want me to get all out, too, all this fucking frustration. Fuck it all into you.” He groaned. “Yes”, you moaned, throwing your ass back. His thrusts became rigid and slow as he was filling you up. 

Eren collapsed on the bed next to you while catching his breath. He kissed your forehead before you went to the toilet to pee. You walked out to see Eren comfy in bed. You lay down beside him, and he wrapped his arms around you. “Eren, you never answered my question, " you said, turning to face him. I’m in love with you, silly. Always has been, and always will be.” He said, yawing.

[eyesofshinigami]

It Ain't About the Pitch

Rating: G

CW: None

Tags: Established relationship, fluff

Prompt: For @shares-a-vest "Love is tolerating your partner's terrible singing"

WC: 826

Written for Day 26 of @steddielovemonth

There were many, many things that Steve was good at. Eddie should know, as he’s become the foremost expert on all things Steve Harrington. So, he would be able to easily wax poetic about how good of a cook Steve is, how great he is in bed. He could also tell you how Steve seems to remember things about people that no one else does, or his uncanny knack for knowing where stuff is, even at other people’s houses. 

There are so many wonderful things that Steve is good at. Just…

Singing isn’t one of them. 

Dancing? Steve’s got that down pat. He’s got moves that could make your momma blush and Eddie is a weak, weak man for his boyfriend shaking his hips like that. But singing… Steve’s about as tone deaf as they come. 

That doesn’t stop him from singing his heart out, and Eddie has to admire that about him. Like right now, with Steve prancing around their kitchen in a pair of sweatpants and one of Eddie’s old band tees, warbling along with George Micheal’s new song about having faith while he’s flipping pancakes like a pro.

“Eddie, man… I think we need to tell him,” Dustin says, breaking Eddie out of his Steve-induced coma. “How can you stand that? He sounds like a cat that’s had its tail rocked on too many times!”

Dustin isn’t wrong, exactly, but Eddie shakes his head. “Leave him alone, Henderson. He’s having fun.” 

While it is an absolute assault on his senses, Steve’s lack of pitch and his incredible love of pop music, Eddie loves him like this. Unself-conscious and free, dancing and singing like he hasn’t got a care in the world. Eddie knows that even now, Steve feels like he needs to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’s always ready to jump head first into a problem, to stand between those he loves and the world like he’s got something to prove. So, to see him wiggling his hips and singing “Faith” off-key? Yeah, Eddie wouldn’t trade that for the world. 

Dustin whines. “He’s killing me. And George Micheal? Come on!”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “There’s the door, Henderson. No one’s keeping you here. Hell, if you leave, that means I can convince Steve to give me a private dance right there in the kitchen!” 

It has the intended effect, making Dustin groan even louder. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, the kids know how this works now. “Gross, I don’t even want to think about you two bumping uglies where Steve makes my pancakes.”

“There aren’t going to be any pancakes if you don’t stop griping,” Steve calls out in a sing-song voice, still wiggling his hips. “What’s got you all bent out of shape this time?”

“Your-”

Eddie clasps a hand over Dustin’s mouth and glares at him. “What isn’t Henderson griping about, baby? Don’t you worry, I’ll set him straight.” 

Steve just shrugs and goes back to making pancakes, tapping his foot as the song shifts to something else. Eddie vaguely recognizes it, but Steve is yell-singing about how heaven is a place on Earth. It’s terrible. It’s awful. It’s the best thing he’s ever seen in his life.

“I swear to god, Henderson, if you make him upset because he can’t sing, I will end you and every single character you roll in any of my games,” Eddie hisses through clenched teeth. 

He hears a snort from behind him, turning to see Steve standing behind the two of them with an amused grin on his face. “You don’t have to spare my feelings, I know I sound awful.” 

Eddie releases Dustin and pulls Steve into a hug. He’s got a smear of batter on his face but he’s smiling so sweetly, soft in the way that makes Eddie melt on the inside. “Awful is a really strong word. I’m just happy you’re happy, baby. I’d listen to you caterwaul all day and night if it makes you smile like that.”

A pretty pink blush breaks out over Steve’s cheeks. It kind of makes Eddie wish he had kicked Dustin out when he had the chance. “Such a sweet talker you are,” Steve teases, closing the distance to bring their lips together in a sweet kiss that’s just a little bit dirty. 

“Ugh, man, go back to singing, Steve, I can’t take this anymore. This is the last time I stay over after a movie night.”

They break apart and Steve throws his dish towel at Dustin. “And this will be the last time I make you pancakes, you ungrateful little shit. Even though I got- oh shit! Eddie! I know this one!” Steve starts dancing in Eddie’s arms, crooning along with whatever song has just come on the radio. He gets Eddie dancing too, and Dustin even reluctantly starts shimmying along with the beat. 

Yeah, who needs perfect pitch when he’s got this right here?

[steviewashere]

Make a Touchdown on My Heart

Rating: General CW: Doesn't Apply For This One! Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Neurodivergent Steve Harrington, Super Bowl XXII, Steve Harrington is a Sports Nerd, Domestic Fluff, Comfort/No Hurt, Fluff, Dialogue Heavy (Some facts in here may be inaccurate, I am not a sports enthusiast. All of these came from the internet, so blame it if I'm wrong.) For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is being seen and known."

💕—————💕

It’s January, 1988. Their apartment is warm and lit by amber bulbs. Four in the afternoon in Chicago, work days over, dinner slow cooking in the crockpot on the counter. Eddie’s already dressed down in pajamas, grabbing a couple beers from their fridge, waiting for Steve to arrive home. Domestic. He’s been domesticated. He’s warm with contentment.

The plan is that Steve is going to get home, change out of his Family Video get up (because, yes, the video store has followed him to Illinois), get into his sweats and a Denver Bronco’s t-shirt, rush to get his sneakers back on, and hurry over to the local sports bar to yell over the Super Bowl. It’s been discussed. Marked on the calendar. Steve’s been excited for the last several months, practically bubbling with passion at the mere thought that one of his favorite teams made it to the “big game” as he described it to Eddie.

Now, Eddie’s no sports guy. He really, really, really isn’t. But he’d grown up with Wayne watching football. Tuning the television to ABC, right at the top of six, Miller in hand, bowl of chips in the other. Eddie usually resigned himself to a night of sitting on the couch, clueless to the sports world around him, probably nose deep in campaign notes. But he’s not in Indiana. He’s not listening to Wayne’s gruff commentary as he prepares for a night in with football. He’s in Illinois with his boyfriend, Steve Harrington—sports extraordinaire, quite literally.

Steve does this wonderfully adorable thing where he pulls out his new copy of Sports Illustrated or tunes in on their little kitchen radio or flips to whatever game is on, he rattles on about statistics and new players and his predictions—what team he thinks will make it to playoffs, which players will retire that year, how many touchdowns a team will get. It’s his favorite thing to talk about. Well, it could be any sport. He knows quite a bit about literally any sport. 

“Who had the most strikeouts in 1984?” Eddie had asked one evening. 

Without any preamble, Steve had shot him with, “Dwight Gooden, New York Mets.”

So, yeah, Steve knows his shit. At least in Eddie’s humble opinion.

Which is why, even though Eddie will probably get super bored, he’s got the TV remote ready. Just waiting on Steve’s quick arrival.

And, not too long later, keys are jingling outside of their apartment’s front door, impatient steps marching in place on the porch. “Just come in, babe! It’s unlocked!” Eddie shouts, chuckling under his breath. 

In comes Steve, a whirlwind of energy. He sheds his coat by the front door, snowflakes falling from his shoulders and the top of his beanie. The coat doesn’t even make it over a chair, is just chucked down to the hardwood. Ripping the hat off his head reveals the most glorious and awful hedgehog style Eddie’s ever seen. But that doesn’t even seem to phase Steve. He just runs a hand through his hair, knocking his glasses askew (yes, glasses, Eddie’s wet dream), quickly wetting his lips with his tongue. He’s already talking a mile a minute.

“Happy hour got moved up an hour at the bar! There’s a whole block taken up by cars.” His voice gets farther and farther away the more he retreats to their bedroom. There’s some rustling around as he looks for his sweatpants. “Bunch of Redskins fans all meeting there, feels like! Gonna be the only one with a Broncos shirt. It’s insane, Eds! They’re all talking about how Doug Williams is gonna lead the Redskins to victory. Which, I’ll give it to them, he’s awesome! He’s one of the best quarterbacks I’ve seen in a long time. Honestly, he’ll probably make history with this game.”

Steve reenters the living space, still chatting up a storm, eyes wandering for his yet to be obtained sweats. Eddie’s got a hand over his mouth, chuckling lowly into his cupped palm. He’s such a dork, he can’t help but think.

He continues on, oblivious to Eddie's adoration snickering. “I’m really excited to see how this goes. Y’know how there was a players strike this season?” He’s asking rhetorically because he usually doesn’t get a response from Eddie, but he nods anyway, because he does know. It’s all Steve’s talked about. “Season was shortened, but…Considering how the Redskins are doing? This might be a crazy game. And also—Wait.” Steve stops short in front of Eddie in the entryway of their small kitchen. He sniffs the air.

“It’s bean dip, babe,” Eddie answers already knowing. “I—uh—I made it for you, for tonight.”

“But I’m not gonna be home? I’ll be up the street?”

Eddie shrugs. “Or…you could be here? With me?” He enters Steve’s space, wiggling the TV remote in his grip. “I put the dip in this morning after you left for work. Went out to the store and picked up a case of Millers. Your sweatpants are in the dryer, I’m warming them up. Just in case the cold creeps under the door, you know how it gets.”

And that makes Steve shut up really fast. His mouth hangs open in silent awe. Hands limp at his sides. Then, all at once, his eyes light up and a smile stretches over his face. “You wanna watch the Super Bowl with me?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, baby. You’ve been talking about it for a while and…I don’t know, you’re so excited, I knew that I couldn’t take that from you. Make you leave the house and not bear witness to your whole—“ He waves a hand over Steve’s bouncing in place body. His flapping hands, the jump to his feet as he quite literally bounces on the tips of his toes. “—Look at you right now! You’re like a dog waiting for me to throw the ball. How could I not watch it with you?” He grabs Steve by his left elbow and drags them over to the couch.

Finally, he turns the television on, flips it over to ABC, and plops the remote in Steve’s lap. He’s still jittering out of his skin.

“You want to watch the game with me,” he states, once more in awe. “Because I get excited? But—You don’t like football? You’re gonna get bored.”

Once again, Eddie shrugs. “So what if I get bored? I don’t need to watch the game, I just need to watch you. I’ll know how to react based on how you do. So far, it sounds like the Redskins are gonna be a pain in the ass for you, right?”

“You remembered the name of the team?”

Eddie scoffs. “Of course I do! I listen to you when you talk about your sports stuff. You’ve been moaning and groaning about the Redskins’ new star quarterback for a while now. You think I don’t enjoy sitting next to you on the couch when you read off the stats in your magazines? Baby, it’s the highlight of my day.”

Steve’s eyes soften, they glisten, surprisingly. “Really? You don’t mind when I talk about my sports things? Even when…Even when it isn’t that interesting to you?”

“Loving you means loving what you love,” Eddie simply states. “Just like when you let me ramble about campaign notes and how infuriating it’s been to find a new Dungeons & Dragons group.” He wraps an arm over Steve’s shoulders, drawing him in close. His free hand cradles Steve’s right cheek, it’s wet under his palm. “Why you cryin’ sweet thing?” He murmurs.

It’s Steve’s turn to shrug. He sniffs back a gross wad of snot. “Nobody ever liked listening to me talk about it, I don’t know. Used to watch the games alone. Hated that.”

Leaning in, Eddie pecks Steve’s forehead. “Well, that changes starting tonight, alright? So, go grab your sweats from the dryer, slip into your Broncos shirt, settle in on the couch. I’ll get us some food, crack open our beers, and you can shout and slap my chest all you want about your game. How’s that sound?”

“Like you know me really well,” Steve answers.

“Good, baby,” he whispers. “Love knowing you. Love loving you.”

💕—————💕

[lunarbuck]

The Kiss (prof!bucky x f!reader)

AU- Professor/Student

Pairing: professor!bucky x f!reader (any race)

WC: 4.2k

Summary: You’ve always had a crush on Professor Barnes… little did you know he has been hiding some feelings of his own

Warnings: age difference, fluff, oral (f receiving), smut (p in v), pet names (Sir, sweetheart, baby), praise

A/N: this is my entry for @the-slumberparty Week 4 challenge! the AU I got was professor/student and I've been wanting to write this for a long time!!! I hope you guys enjoy <3

full masterlist

“That’s it for today. You’re all dismissed.” Book bags and jackets zip loudly as the small lecture center begins to empty. You start packing up your things, but you don’t get out of your seat yet. This certainly has been your favorite of all the classes you’ve taken in the past four years. White Collar Crime, taught by Professor Barnes, is one of the most interesting courses you’ve taken, and you also love the professor. 

Prof. Barnes is a lawyer by day, and a lecturer by evening, as he says. And though he’s often incredibly busy with cases, it's easy to see how passionate he is about teaching. You watch as he packs up his belongings, a few students quickly asking him questions about the upcoming exam. Prof. Barnes used to seem scary and intimidating to you, but after a few weeks, you started catching glimpses of his grin, of light in his eye, and you’ve been a goner ever since. 

His features are sharp, and he always looks so put together. His brown hair is clipped close on the sides and kept short on top, which suits his personality well. His broody exterior is one that most people fear, but it just draws you in, and you can’t seem to stay away.

You grab your things and start toward the front of the room. Typically, you make up a question as an excuse to talk to him, but today you have a real one. You’re the last student in the room, and Prof. Barnes is already watching you approach.

“Hi,” you greet, rocking back and forth on your heels momentarily. “Last week, you mentioned being able to go over our exam answers with you, so we know what to study. Could I schedule time with you to do that?” You do your best not to let your eyes drift from his, but it’s tough. His shirts are always perfectly tailored to him, showing off his broad shoulders and strong legs. 

Prof. Barnes doesn’t smile, but you can see the warmth in his eyes, which is better, in your opinion. “Of course. Do you have time now? This was my last class of the evening, so we can just go right to my office.” Your heart stutters in your chest at his words. You’ve gone to his office hours a few times, but there’ve always been other students outside or in the office with you. You’ve never been alone with him like that.

And as it turns out, you don’t have anything going on for the rest of the night. “That works for me,” you say, grinning. Prof. Barnes leads the way out of the lecture hall and to the building where his office is. Even though neither of you speaks the entire way, you’re buzzing. He walks close enough that sometimes your arms brush, and you can smell his cologne. 

When you arrive in his office, Prof. Barnes instructs you to sit across from him at his desk while he gets everything ready. The office is filled with books and papers, organized in a way that doesn’t quite make sense to you, but you can imagine it’s perfect for Prof. Barnes. Your eyes trail over the spines of the books, and you notice that not all are law books, but many of them are classics. 

“So, here’s your last exam,” he says, pulling your attention back to him. Prof. Barnes has laid out your scantron page as well as the exam itself, and has your grades pulled up on his computer. “You did very well, which I’m not surprised by, and the questions you did get wrong, the whole class struggled with.” Your mind short-circuits as he speaks. He’s paid enough attention to you not to be surprised by your good grade? The class itself isn’t very big, all things considered, but there are 50 students, and this isn’t the only class he teaches.

“Oh, thank you, Sir,” you reply shyly, surprised that that’s what you called him. You’ve never addressed him that way, but you love how it felt. The corner of his mouth tips up into an almost smile as he suppresses a slight shiver.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he adds, flipping through the exam booklet. You quirk an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He finds the first question you got wrong. “So here’s what you said,” he points to your answer on the scantron. “What do you think the right answer is?”

His bright blue eyes watch you as you think, tracing over your features like he’s trying to analyze you. You try not to shrink under his gaze.

“Differential association?” You suggest, not entirely sure of the response, but the way Prof. Barnes’ eyes light up tells you you’re right.

“Correct,” he says, marking down your answer on a new sheet of paper. “Good girl.” The words slip out, almost as if he didn’t mean for you to hear them, but you did, and they go straight to your lower belly, lighting a spark. Prof. Barnes doesn’t acknowledge what he’s said, opting to continue through the other questions you missed. 

Each time you answer a question correctly, he smiles a little more, and looks a little more pleased. But all you can focus on is how he called you ‘good girl’. It echoes through your head, making your heart beat faster and heat lick in your belly. 

As you answer the last question, Prof. Barnes’ tongue traces over his lower lip. Your eyes track the movement, and you suck in a breath. He nods, indicating your answer is correct and clasps his hands on the desk.

“You’re more than ready for the exam,” he tells you, keeping eye contact. “You need to give yourself more credit, and trust that you know the answer. You’re smart. Trust your gut, okay?” You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

“Thank you, Sir,” you say, voice breathy. Alarm bells go off in your head that you’ve definitely alerted Prof. Barnes to the state that you’re in, but honestly, you don’t care. You’re sure women throw themselves at him constantly, probably even some students. He’s handsome in that classic way, strong features and bright eyes. He knows he’s attractive; he knows people want him.

He’s close enough that if you leaned in a bit, you could kiss him. You’re desperate to know what his lips would feel like against yours, what he’d taste like. Would he hold your face to lead the kiss? Would his fingers tangle in your hair?

Even though you don’t want to, you stand and gather your things. As you walk toward the door, you hear Prof. Barnes approach. He reaches the door before you and stands in front of it, blocking your exit.

He opens his mouth but closes it immediately like he isn’t sure what to say. His eyebrows furrow, and he takes a deep breath. “You liked it,” he states, as if that’s enough information for you to go off of. When you don’t respond, he continues. “You liked when you called me ‘sir’ and when I said you were a good girl.” His voice doesn’t waver, but he fists his hands like he’s holding himself back from something. 

Your lips fall open, stunned at his observation. The way he’s speaking to you now makes the coil in your belly tighten, thinking about how he’d called you a good girl only fueling the feeling.

“You’re easy to read,” he continues. “You always stay after class to ask me questions. You come to my office hours when we both know damn well you don’t need the help. You bit your lip when you called me ‘sir’. You shivered when I called you ‘good girl’.” Your breathing has sped up, causing your chest to heave.

You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure you’d know how to speak even if you had the words.

“You thought I wouldn't figure it out, didn’t you, sweetheart?” He steps toward you, grips your jacket, which you’ve been clutching to your chest this whole time, and tugs it from your arms. “You thought I hadn’t seen you, that I hadn’t noticed you.”

You nod as he closes the distance between you. His smell invades your nostrils, making you feel dizzy.

“Well, I noticed, sweetheart.” Prof. Barnes places his hands on the sides of your jaw, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. He’s giving you time to pull away, giving you an out. But you don’t want it. You rest your hands in the bend of his arms and nod, giving him the permission he needs.

Prof. Barnes leans in and kisses you, pressing his lips gently to yours. He tilts your head slightly like you imagined he would, but you could never have imagined how soft his lips are. How good it feels to have his breath wash over your cheek. He tastes like coffee and something sweet, something distinctly him. He pulls you closer, removing the small space between your bodies, leaving you pressed against his chest. Prof. Barnes’ left hand leaves your face, shifting to cup the side of your neck before sliding down your back. It settles on your lower back, pressing you into him even more. 

You whimper into the kiss at the feeling of him, of being so close, and he takes the opportunity to nip at your bottom lip. When he pulls away, you’re breathless. “You taste so sweet,” he muses, a smile growing on his face. “Just like I knew you would.”

For the next two weeks, Professor Barnes cancels class. Even when he’s busy with a case, he never cancels; he just switches the class to online. You can’t help but feel like it’s because of you. Because of the kiss. 

The kiss.

It plays on repeat in your head; it follows you into your dreams. How his lips molded to yours and his hands held your head, how they pressed you into him. It was all so perfect; it felt so right. But maybe it didn’t feel that way for Prof. Barnes. After he’d kissed you, you’d stayed for a little longer, wrapped up in him, but he got a call and had to leave right after. He’d kissed you on the way out, saying he’d see you soon, but you haven’t. 

You were supposed to have Prof. Barnes’ class today. It was supposed to be a review day for the exam next class, but again, class is canceled. Once you finish your morning classes, you have no reason to stay on campus, so you start walking back to your apartment. Your phone buzzes, and when you pull it out, you find another text from your roommate begging you to go out tonight. You’ve been trying to get out of it, but you’re in the mood for a distraction, so you give in.

Later that night, you find yourself at one of the bars near campus. It’s not as packed as you thought, so you go to the bar and almost immediately get the bartender’s attention. He leans over the bar to hear you better, but you don’t miss the way his eyes roam over your figure before reaching your eyes again.

“What can I getcha?” He asks, giving you a smile. You rattle off your order and something for your roommate and make pleasant, if not flirtatious, conversation with the bartender. He’s cute but not really your type. Your type these days has been older, broodier, more intense…

You need to stop thinking about Professor Barnes. You need to get him out of your system.

The bartender, whose name you’ve learned is Troy, sets your drinks down in front of you with a wink, and you smile in return, sliding the cash over to him. Your roommate grabs her drink quickly before running off to say hi to one of her other friends, leaving you at the bar alone. You turn around to find somewhere a little less crowded when you feel someone’s eyes on you. 

It takes you a second, but your gaze connects with two familiar bright blue eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. 

Bucky

She saw me. 

I watch as the bartender gets her attention again, and though I can’t hear what they’re saying, I see her smile at him. I clench my teeth at the sight. The bartender slides something across the bar to her, and she looks surprised but accepts it, tucking it into the back pocket of her tight jeans.

She looks incredible tonight in her fitted shirt and those jeans that make her ass look perfect. The bartender gets pulled away to do his job, and I watch as the woman that has occupied my thoughts for so long turns back around and finds me in the crowd.

She is like a ray of fucking sunshine, so bright in my life, and as she walks toward me slowly, I can practically feel her warmth already. She approaches me tentatively like she’s worried I’ll disappear the moment she gets close enough to touch.

“Professor Barnes,” she whispers, but I hear her despite the noise of the crowd. It’s pathetic, the way my cock hardens just at her voice, but she has me wrapped around her little finger, whether she realizes it or not. 

“Sweetheart,” I reply. I don’t miss the way she shivers, the way heat flares in her eyes. 

“Where’ve you been?” She asks, fiddling with the straw in her drink. She’s avoiding eye contact, but I want to see her beautiful eyes. I stand, towering over her, and that gets her attention. She tilts her head up, and I have to stifle a groan at the sight of her looking up at me with those doe eyes.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” She nods just a little as if her head did it without her mind’s consent. I let my fingers trail up her bare arm, her skin soft against my calloused hand, until my hand cups her jaw. She leans into my touch, and I brush my thumb over her cheek.

I lean in, getting close enough that her shaking breaths fan over my face, and whisper, “I missed you too.” She tilts her head to try and kiss me, but I hold her face still. We’re in a bar on campus full of students. I can’t risk us being seen like this. Even touching her is dangerous.

“Oh.” She sounds defeated, and my chest squeezes. I’m not rejecting her. Quite the opposite, actually.

“The things I want to do to you, sweetheart,” I tell her, leaning my forehead against hers. “I cannot do in this bar.” Her breath stutters and her eyes glaze over with need. She quickly downs her drink and finds her roommate to tell her she’s leaving. When she returns to me, her nerves and excitement pour from her, and I feel myself beginning to smile. 

“Where are we going?” She asks, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. I tangle my fingers with her and tug her toward the door. My car is parked a block away. I didn’t drink. I didn’t come here to drink, so I’m good to drive.

The drive to my place is only about 10 minutes, but it feels like hours. I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles go pale. I’m desperate to taste her again, to feel her writhing against me. I’d wanted to take her right then and there in my office, but it was too risky. I’m so close to having her after waiting for what’s felt like forever.

We pull into the driveway of my house, and I watch her take a deep breath. I can tell she’s nervous, but I also see the way she’s watching my every move, the way she so clearly wants me.

I shut the front door behind her, and I’m on her. I press her back against the door and kiss her. She tastes so fucking good, so soft and sweet against my lips. She grips my jacket as my fingers tangle in her hair. My tongue swipes across the seam of her lips, and she opens for me with a moan.

“You’re so sweet, baby,” I whisper against her lips. She shudders, arching against me. My cock is hard in my jeans, and I grind against her to show her just how much she affects me. I kiss her again, drinking in the way she reacts to every touch.

“Please,” she moans. I pull back slightly and take in the way her face is twisted in pleasure. 

“Please, what, sweetheart?” She furrows her brows in frustration, and I can’t help but smirk as she does it. She’s so worked up, but I want her begging.

She pants for a moment before finding her words. “I just need you,” she whispers. “Please, Sir, I need you so bad.” Her voice comes out a needy whine, and the way she calls me sir nearly sends me over the edge.

“Good girl.” I press a bruising kiss to her again before I pick her up princess-style. I walk her up the stairs to my bedroom and toss her on my bed. I can’t believe I haven’t done this sooner, that I tried to deny myself the pleasure of seeing her on my bed, panting and wanting. 

I shrug off my jacket and toss it aside before approaching the bed. She looks up at me with big doe eyes, those eyes that watch me every time we’re in class, the ones that I’ve seen in my dreams. I lean over the bed and grab her ankles, tugging her until her legs hang over the edge.

She watches my hands as I run my hands up her legs, appreciating every beautiful curve of her body. My fingers tease the skin above her waistband. I move to unbutton her jeans, waiting for her to tell me to go on, and once she nods, I peel them off her.

I am breathless, utterly hypnotized by her as I kneel at the foot of the bed. Her panties are simple, lacy and black, and when I run my thumb up and down over her pussy, she lets out the most beautiful moan. 

“You know how long I’ve wanted this?” I ask, rubbing a circle over her clit. She shakes her head, fisting the sheets. “Since the day I saw you, I’ve wanted you. Every time you came to my office, I wanted to kick everyone out and put you over my desk. I’ve wanted to keep you after class every day, have you moaning my name so loud it would echo in the lecture hall.”

When she lets out a strangled moan, I pull her panties down and revel in how gorgeous and wet she is. I tuck her panties into my pocket and run my hands over her bare skin. She shivers and tries to pull her legs together, but I don’t let her. 

“I’ve wanted to taste you since I saw you. You gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” I ask, adding a teasing tone to my voice. 

“Please,” she begs. “Please, Sir.” I grin at her pussy and dive in. The second my tongue swipes over her pussy she arches, her fingers digging into my hair. She lets out a string of expletives as I suck her clit and explore her perfect cunt. 

She tastes so much better than I ever could have imagined, and I know I’ll be addicted to this forever. She is so responsive, so sensitive to every swipe of my tongue, and all it does is make me work harder for her. I graze my teeth over her clit, and she jolts but pulls my hair more, guiding me to exactly where she wants me.

I work her up more and more until I feel her trembling beneath me. “You wanna come, sweetheart?” I ask, sliding a finger into her pussy. She’s hot and tight around my finger, and I feel her clench around it.

“Yes, please,” she replies, voice breathy from the pleasure. I click my tongue in mock-disappointment. I nip at her inner thigh, soothing the bite with a kiss.

“Please, who? Who’s making you feel good? Who’s gonna make you come?” She squirms a little and tries to get me to keep eating her out, but I don’t give in, no matter how much I want to keep tasting her.

“Please, Sir,” she amends. “You’re making me feel so good, please, Sir. I need you so bad.”

“Such a good girl,” I groan. I double my efforts on her clit and slide a second finger inside her, hitting a spot that makes her twitch.

Her legs tighten around my head as she comes, and it takes everything in me to not come right along with her. I ease up when I notice her getting too sensitive and kiss my way up her body. 

“You’re perfect,” I tell her, sucking a mark on her neck. She helps me pull her shirt and bra off before she starts working my shirt off as well. A moment later, we’re both naked, and I love the way her eyes trace over every inch of me. 

She pulls me in for another kiss, and I lean on my forearms, keeping myself hovering just over her.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she tells me between kisses. “Wanted you for so long.” I grin into the kiss, then pull away to dig through my bedside table for a condom. She watches with hooded, lust-filled eyes.

“This okay?” I ask, rolling the condom onto myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone how I want her. 

She nods enthusiastically. “Please, Sir, please fuck me.” My head lulls back at her words.

I line myself up with her pussy and push in just a little, watching her face contort. Inch by inch, I sink inside her wet heat, and once I’m fully inside her, I let out a low moan. I give her a moment to adjust before I pull out and slam back in.

I know I should be gentle, that I should warm her up to this, but I can’t. There will be time for gentleness, and now’s not that time. I set a brutal, deep pace, and she takes it like the good girl she is.

Her fingers scrape down my back as she urges me on, legs wrapping around me to keep me close. I knew she’d be able to take it. I knew she’d be good for me. I tell her over and over how perfect she feels, how good she’s taking me, and every word of praise makes her squeeze tighter around me.

“Oh my god, I’m so close,” she moans. 

“Come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my dick.” I keep doing what I know she likes and watch as she falls apart beneath me. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than this. Than her. Once she comes down from her high, I switch our position. I turn her over and hike her ass up, keeping her head low on the mattress. My mouth waters as I press into her again. Her jaw drops open, and her eyes squeeze shut, and I start fucking her again.

Each sound she makes goes straight to my cock. Every moan, every whimper, brings me closer to the edge. I grip her hips hard, but I don’t care if I’m leaving marks. I want her to see them, to run her fingers over them as she thinks about the way I made her come on my cock. 

My hips start to stutter, my thrust getting sloppy as I get closer and closer to coming. I wish I could fill her up and see my cum drip out of her, but I know we’re not there yet. I haul her chest up, pressing her back to my front, and snake my hands around her. One of my hands cups her neck, not choking her but gripping it, and the other teases her breast. My fingers tweak her nipple, and she jolts in my hold.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” I ask, punctuating my words with deeper thrusts. She moans but doesn’t answer. “Answer me, sweetheart,” I say, practically scolding her.

“Fuck, I love it so much, Sir.” Her voice is strung out with pleasure. The hand that has been playing with her breasts falls to her pussy, and I tease her clit, pulling another orgasm out of her. She’s so loud when she comes, and it pulls me over with her.

I come hard, my vision blacking out on the edges, and we collapse together on the bed. 

We watch each other as we come down from our highs. She smiles sheepishly at me, and I kiss away any doubts that might be clouding her mind right now. “That was perfect,” I tell her, kissing her nose. 

“Thank you, Sir,” she replies. I pull her close to me, wrapping her in my arms. 

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” I remind her. She tilts her head up to keep eye contact, and I love the light that shines in her beautiful eyes.

“What should I call you then?”

“Bucky.” She smiles at the nickname my friend gave me when we were younger.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bucky.” She giggles as I kiss her, and I lock that sound away, keeping it somewhere I’ll never lose it.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

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