#wide-eyed-wild-child

[comradekatara]

no one in the entire world gets these characters and this show like u do im literally obsessed w ur blog

see this is why i can never abandon this stupid blog dedicated to a nickelodeon cartoon i first watched as a child. because im literally a public servant. being a man means knowing where you’re needed the most, and right now, that’s here, blogging about children’s media with the sincerity and attention of a medieval monk transcribing biblical manuscripts by candlelight.

[lovebugism]

Hi there 👋🏻 I've been binge reading your stories lately and I love them all! I have a request if you're up for it. Could you write one where shy!reader doesn't like her laugh because some people think it's annoying but Eddie loves it? Totally not self-projecting by the way! 🙃 Thank you!

thank you angel! please enjoy :D — eddie comforts you when he finds out an old boyfriend made you hate your laugh (shy!fem!r, established relationship, hurt/comfort, 1k)

You and Eddie sit on opposite sides of the worn, sunken-in couch — long legs bent at the knees, socked feet wedged neatly beneath your thighs. Your bare calves rest on either side of his lap while his calloused palms rub up and down the length of them. His touch is largely absentminded as he tries hopelessly not to laugh through the punchline of his own joke.

“—And I was like, ‘Boom. You lookin’ for this?’”

You think the brown-eyed look of expectancy he gives you is funnier than anything. You smile wide, hiding the sparkling expression behind your palm.

Eddie meets your beam with a boyish pout. He repeats the punchline, more serious this time. “And I was like, ‘Boom’—”

“I heard you, Eds,” you assure with a small chuckle. A mere breath of a laugh.

His frown deepens. “Oh, c’mon!” he exclaims, lifting his hands in protest. They drop back to your ankles a second later. “That was funny! That always kills with Hellfire!”

You nod rapidly, brows raised and eyes wide, like a parent comforting a child. “It was good,” you assure quickly.

“Then why aren’t you laughing?”

“So, what— I have to laugh if I think something’s funny?”

“Well, that’s usually how it works, yeah,” Eddie monotones with a flat face, nodding until his wild curls sway around his jaw. He shrugs lazily a second later and jokes, “If you’re not a psychopath, at least… You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

You meet his narrowed eyes with a more pensive gaze. Your lips purse to the side of your mouth as you jokingly ponder the silly question. “No,” you answer after a few long moments. “Not yet, anyway.”

Eddie nods like he’s relieved. “Nice.”

“There’s still time, though,” you add with a scrunched nose.

He scrunches the bridge of his back. “I’ll take that risk,” he says with a small huff before lifting his weight on his knuckles. The old couch creaks in protest as he leans over to kiss you. 

With a poorly bitten-back grin, you meet him halfway. Your mouths smack together in a fleeting kiss that tastes faintly of frozen pizza.

You settle back on the arm of the couch with Eddie’s socked toes wriggling under your thighs. His thumbs continue tracing shapes on the insides of your calves. He watches you watch the staticky television screen, too wound up about the whole thing to join in on the stupid sitcom.

The subtly overwhelming feeling bubbles in his throat until it spills like vomit from his mouth. “Do you think I’m not funny or something?” he blurts, then goes all shy right after. “Is that why… Is that why you don’t really laugh at my jokes?”

Your breathy scoff only further proves his point. “I laugh at your jokes all the time, Eds.”

He shrugs, unconvinced. “I mean… I guess. You, like, breathe really hard through your nose or whatever, but you don’t… You don’t laugh.”

“I think if you heard me laugh, you’d break up with me,” you joke and don’t think twice about how self-deprecating it is.

Eddie’s face twists at the thought — that he’d ever want to break up with you, or that there’d be a part of you he wouldn’t automatically adore on instinct. “Why would you say that?” 

You shrug with a vague I don’t know type of sound and turn back to the television. “My laugh is just weird, I guess....”

“No one’s laugh is weird!” Eddie insists. “It’s, like, the one sound people make when they’re happiest— It can’t be weird.”

You flash him a deadpan look of silent disagreement.

He caves.

“Okay. Fine. Dustin Henderson’s laugh is weird,” he concludes. “But… that’s just because he’s Dustin, you know?”

You breathe a faint chuckle at that. Almost like you’ve trained yourself to be as quiet in your laughter as you can. 

“My last boyfriend thought my laugh was annoying,” you confess like it’s no big deal. “So eventually I just kinda… stopped.”

Eddie’s soft features harden into a solemn frown. “What a fucking prick…” he grumbles like a storm cloud.

“It’s okay. I got over it. Mostly.”

He squeezes the backs of your calves with a pair of ringed hands, a warm and reassuring touch. “Well, I don’t think anything you do could annoy me,” Eddie tells you, tilting his head to the side until his wild curls bunch at his shoulders. “Just so we’re clear.”

Something in your chest flutters — like there’s a thousand moths trapped behind your ribcage. “Good to know,” you tease in the same sardonic tone.

Eddie rises suddenly, tugging at your ankles until you’re lying flatter on the couch. A squeal sound in your throat as you watch him rise to his knees and lean over you. He digs his fingers gently into the plush of your sides before you can blink. 

“Get off!” you swat at him, laughing loudly at the tickling sensation before you can help it. The golden sound spills from your lips and fills the dim trailer with so many little sunbeams. 

Your face heats at the proud, lopsided smile Eddie gives you.

“Get off,” you repeat, sterner now but still mostly playful. You’re only slightly surprised when Eddie obeys without pouting. You sit up a bit more and tug your shirt down from where it had ridden up. “And stop looking at me like that.”

Eddie fights to purse his beam to the side of his mouth. Your sparkling, unsmiling disposition is impossible not to smile at. “Can’t help it,” the boy shrugs with a stupid grin. “You’re too cute.”

Your face scrunches in disdain of his compliment. You prop your back against the couch and cross your arms over your chest, averting your gaze to the TV once more. “Just drive me home,” you grumble in protest, hardly meaning it.

“No can do, sweet thing,” Eddie says with a sympathetic sigh, dropping a heavy arm around your shoulder to pull you into his chest. You melt begrudgingly into his sloppy embrace. He presses a kiss to your hair and mumbles into your temple. “‘M never letting you go, actually.”

And, despite your very obvious pouting, you pray he never breaks his promise.

[lovelyjj]

you can use any prompts but can u do reader and jj breaking up, mostly because he can't communicate well and he's to reckless ( maybe you could add something we're he flirts with other girls at bonfires when he's drunk) and she's not all for that ecspecially since they are starting to get older

Break Up

jj maybank x reader

wc: 1.1k

I chose “don’t do this” and “we’re done” from this prompt list! i’m still accepting requests!

warnings: kinda mean jj

a/n: sorry if this sucks

(not my gif)

“JJ I can’t keep doing this,” you voiced.

“Doing what?” JJ asked.

“Putting up with your bullshit,” you responded.

“My bullshit,” JJ laughed.

“Yeah your pulling guns on people bullshit. Stealing from drug dealers, and being reckless.”

“I’m not reckless I’m perfectly fine.”

“JJ, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Don’t do this,” JJ begged.

“You know what whatever i’m leaving.” You stormed out.

You were trying to break up with JJ but you just couldn’t do it. You don’t know if it was his blue eyes looking into your soul or his sad face but you just couldn’t do it. You were putting it off.

——————

The bonfire was electrifying. People were drinking and dancing, and talking it was wild. You we’re having a good time with your friends.

JJ was on his third beer and he wasn’t planning on stoping anytime soon. It was safe to say he was a little drunk. He enjoyed drinking and being drunk, it made everything easier. He could just forget all his problems and let loose.

JJ saw a group of girls by the fire and decided to go up to them. He had liquid courage, therefore went up to them pretty confident.

“Hi ladies,” he spoke.

A tall blonde in a short black dress smiled at him and said “Hello, your JJ Maybank right?”

“Yeah that’s me,” JJ gave her a goofy grin.

“I’ve heard about you.”

“Oh yeah and what have you heard?” JJ asked.

“That your a handsome guy who knows how to have a good time,” she smirked.

“Sounds about right.”

“You have a beautiful smile,” JJ laid on the charm.

JJ continued to flirt with the blonde as he drunkenly slurred compliments at her.

“Don’t look now,” Kiara warned.

“What?” you turned around and saw what she was referring to.

There was JJ in all his glory stroking hair out of some random girls face. You were livid. How dare he in his drunken state think to hit on other girls.

You were about to walk over there when something stopped you. Kiara put a hand on your shoulder holding you back from leaving.

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” she asked.

“Yeah I’m sure.”

You marched up to JJ and demanded answers. You tapped him on his shoulder and he turned around all wide eyed.

“Listen Maybank I don’t know who you think you are, flirting with other girls right in front of my face, but you got another thing coming.”

You were getting older and you didn’t have time for all these games.

“Y/N?” He slurred.

“Yep.”

“I was just talking to some friends, no harm in that right?” JJ asked.

“Wrong. You’re being disloyal and unfaithful,” you hissed.

“How do you know? I’m just having fun.”

“Right well JJ i’m so tired SO tired of having to deal with this!”

“Then go away,” JJ casted you a unimpressed look.

“Maybe I will,” you shouted.

“Go, nobodies stoping you.”

You were pissed at JJ. He was acting like a child. You were not gonna control him, if he wanted to act like that you were gonna let him. But you couldn’t promise you will be by his side through it all.

———————

The day was bright and sunny. The sky holding the sun as it shined on you.

JJ walked into the château littered in bruises on his face. He was dreading the encounter with you because he didn’t want to worry you.

You were sat on the couch with the other pogues when JJ walked in.

“Hey J- Woah what happened? Are you ok?” You were frantic and scared for your boyfriend.

“Relax I’m fine. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“JJ you have- you’re not gonna give me a explanation,” you sighed.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” JJ said through gritted teeth.

“Ya know I would really love it if you could communicate with me sometime,” you frowned.

“Yeah well we don’t always get what we want,” JJ smiled rudely.

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Suck it up princess.”

You pushed pass JJ going going out the door and onto the porch. You didn’t know what has gotten into JJ but you hated it.

——————

You and JJ weren’t on the same page. Everything seem to be crashing down. It was a disaster. JJ wasn’t communicating to you at all. All he did was blow you off and dance around your questions.

You stormed up to the château where JJ was currently staying and wanted to talk.

JJ came stumbling outside when he herd your knock and shouting. He wasn’t impressed but he showed up none the less.

“I need to talk to you,” you started off.

“You want to do this here?” JJ questioned.

You sighed, “works for me.”

“Ok what do you need to talk about,” JJ cringed he hated talking.

“I think you know,” you moved your lips inside your mouth forming a line without showing your lips.

“I don’t.”

“Ok well I think we need to have a conversation about us.”

“Which entails…”

“JJ…”

“What? You wanted to talk so let’s talk,” he gritted his teeth.

“Ok look this isn’t working. You don’t treat me right and i’m tired of it.”

“So you’re breaking up with me,” JJ put his tongue to his cheek.

“Yeah I guess I am.”

“I can change,” JJ’s voice broke.

“No JJ I don’t think you can.”

“Please give me another chance,” JJ begged.

“You don’t talk to me, your reckless and you flirt with other girls, I can’t handle it. how am I suppose to compete with them?”

“Sorry I’ve been such a shitty boyfriend.” JJ apologized.

“Well you should of thought about that before.”

“I know I don’t deserve it but if you could find it in your heart to forgive me and make this work, I would be eternally grateful,” JJ expressed with a sense of urgency.

“We’re done.”

“Y/N…”

“Goodbye JJ.”

You turned around to walk away and since you weren’t facing JJ you let a tear slip down your cheek. You didn’t want to do what you just did but you had to. JJ was hurting you, hurting your heart and you couldn’t stand it any longer. You loved him more than anything and not being with him was going to be a challenge.

JJ was your first real love. He was your person for so long until he started being careless and irresponsible. On top of that he didn’t communicate his feelings or give you any idea to what he was thinking which drove you mad.

JJ had his flaws but you loved him desperately regardless. You just couldn’t let him hurt you anymore as much as it hurt you to break up with him. So, as the tears streamed down your cheeks and with a heavy heart you said your last goodbye to JJ.

[solarmorrigan]

TW: Discussion of suicide, suicidal ideation, child neglect. Nothing happens in the fic (all hurt/comfort, I promise), but it's very frankly talked about, so please proceed with care <3

-

It takes three weeks.

(In reality, it takes longer than that. It takes until after Steve realizes he’s spending more time at Eddie and Wayne’s new place than he is at his own house. It takes until after Eddie has asked Steve to just move in with them already. It takes until after Steve has packed his things up, and carefully cleaned up the house, and set the thermostat, and informed the pool cleaners, and paid a neighbor to check the mail every few days, and – he hadn’t felt right, just leaving, even though Eddie had repeatedly told him he didn’t owe anyone anything. But it had taken until after all of that, and then–)

Steve had left them a note, a new number where he could be reached, and it had taken three weeks before they came looking. Before they even noticed.

It isn’t a fight, in the end.

His parents are angry that he’d just up and left the house, but they’re much less so when he explains everything he’d set in place before he’d gone.

They want to know if he’ll be asking them for anything else after this (not if he’s safe, not if he’s happy, just if he’s going to keep being a burden).

He tells them no.

And that’s– that’s it.

That’s it.

His mom tells him they’ll call him around Christmas, let him know if they’ll be in town, and then his parents just let him go.

They get up and they leave his living room and they leave his home and they leave Steve’s life and they leave and they don’t look back and they– well, they’d left a long time ago, hadn’t they? A long, long time ago.

Steve is sitting at the end of Eddie’s bed (his and Eddie’s bed, now, their bed; Steve’s still getting used to that, but in a good way), feeling the sort of empty he hasn’t felt since he was seventeen. He’s just sort of staring at the carpet, and then he’s staring at Eddie’s ridiculous polka dot socks as Eddie steps in front of him.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly. “You, uh… okay?”

It’s kind of a ridiculous question – the answer is obvious, and Eddie clearly knows that, but it’s a way to start a conversation without shouting, “Your parents are ungrateful pieces of shit who never appreciated you,” like he probably wants to (and has before), and Steve appreciates his restraint.

He nods a little, stops, shrugs.

“I kind of thought I was over this,” he says. “Over feeling… left behind by them. Shouldn’t still hurt, right?”

“It’s– it’s okay if it does. It’s shit, Steve. They’re shit,” Eddie says (yep, Steve called it). “You’re allowed to be hurt.”

Steve shrugs again.

“It’s funny,” he says, even though it isn’t, “but I used to wonder how long it would take them to notice if I died.”

He’d never had an active plan, really, though there had been plenty of ways around the house to accomplish the task. He’d never really even looked at it as being suicidal, just angry and bitter and lonely. He hadn’t felt miserable all the time, hadn’t felt like there was nothing in the world worth living for – it’s not like he’d been depressed, it had just been a wild, almost satisfying thought that occurred from time to time. The ultimate way to prove a point. To make them see.

And if the urge got too strong, and his head got too full, and his chest felt too hollow, and the house felt too empty, he’d just go out and find something to do. Simple as that.

“I wondered if it would only be a day or two, or if they would come home, like, weeks later and find what was left of me just… floating in the pool or rotting in the bathtub or some shit. And I guess I just got my answer.” He laughs, managing to sound completely humorless even in the attempt, and glances up at Eddie. “Three weeks. How decomposed do you think I’d be by now?”

Except Eddie doesn’t pick up the bit. He’s just staring at Steve, wide-eyed, cheeks a little red, eyes a little wet, and – shit.

“Shit, Ed, I didn’t–”

“Don’t,” Eddie cuts in, voice thick with a shaking kind of intensity, “say shit like that. Fucking don’t ever– Steve–”

“No, Eddie, I’m sorry, I haven’t thought about that in years, this whole thing with my parents, it just… it reminded me, that’s all,” Steve says, even if that isn’t strictly true.

He’s thought about it plenty, he just hasn’t really had the urge to follow through since the first time he took a bat to a demogorgon’s head. He’d traded that empty feeling for one of purpose, of knowing he was needed, and had readily put himself between everyone else and the danger they were facing, because at least that way he filled a space.

(Maybe he’d traded it a little too easily. Maybe there isn’t a lot of difference between using yourself as bait to lure in a demodog and thinking about where all the sharp things are in the house. Maybe that’s something Steve doesn’t need to unpack right now.)

Eddie stumbles forwards, reaching out and cupping Steve’s face in his hands, angling him upwards so Eddie fills his field of vision.

“I would notice,” Eddie says firmly. “I would notice.”

“I– I know you would, Eddie. I told you–”

“Robin would notice. Dustin – all those little shits we hang out with, both Wheelers, Wayne, fuckin’ Byers– we would notice right away, Steve, I swear to fuck, we would,” Eddie goes on, and something is suddenly sticking in Steve’s throat.

“I– I know,” Steve manages to choke out, and shit, why are his eyes wet now? He’s never cried over this feeling before, and it should be too fucking late to start now – except with everything happening, with his parents, with the way Eddie is staring at him like he’s about to disappear–

Eddie bends one leg up until he’s got a knee to one side of Steve’s hip, half-kneeling over him without boxing him in because he knows Steve can’t stand that, and he rests his weight there so he can lean in and press his lips to Steve’s forehead, kissing him, murmuring against the skin like he’s praying.

“We see you, baby.”

And that one hurts.

It fucking aches, like Eddie has somehow managed to reach back four years and jam a thumb into the bruise seventeen-year-old Steve had constantly been carrying under his ribs, and Steve of right now reaches out and grabs Eddie’s shirt and thinks for a moment that he wants to shove him away, but his next breath heaves out like a sob and he can only pull Eddie closer.

“We see you,” Eddie says again, soft but unignorable, before he presses another kiss to Steve’s forehead.

Yeah, Steve thinks, you see right through me.

It’s a terrifying feeling, and Steve wants to swallow it up and keep inside of him where he can feel it forever. He nods against Eddie’s lips, sucking in a sharp breath so he can speak again.

“Okay,” Steve says, clutching more tightly to Eddie’s shirt. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes against the unwanted tears and lets himself feel, instead – the warmth of Eddie over and around him, the near bruising grip Eddie still has on his jaw, the softness of his lips against his forehead, and he thinks that this is what he’d been searching for, all those years ago.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this wanted, and somehow he doubts he’ll ever have to worry about going without it again.

[Prompt: Forehead kisses]

[catharusustulatus]

Steddie Drabble, TW: child abuse.

Initially, Wayne doesn’t care for Steve. Calls him “the Harrington boy” or “Richard’s son” with contempt, asks if “Richard’s son” is coming over for dinner again and Eddie just rolls his eyes and says “yes, Wayne, STEVE is coming over at 7.” Wayne doesn’t like him because…well, he’s not stupid to judge a book by its cover, he thinks.

But the fifth time Harrington comes over, he brings a bouquet of flowers, and Eddie, well, his cheeks are redder than the spaghetti sauce Wayne’s been stirring, so that’s something.

And then the sixth time Steve comes over, he brings Wayne a Garfield magnet. It’s small, “found it at the thrifty mart with Robin, I’m sorry it’s not brand new…” Steve mumbles, and Eddie is wide eyed and smiling, and Wayne LOVES Garfield. He puts it on the fridge, pats Steve on the back, says “um, thank you son.”

They fall into a pattern, the three of them. Steve comes over for dinner every Friday night after work. He dresses clean and is polite to Wayne, helps with the dishes, sometimes brings bread rolls or licorice or beer or jokes. Eddie starts setting the table. Wayne starts laughing at the jokes. After Steve leaves, Wayne knows Eddie smiles himself to sleep. It’s different, now.

And then the next time Steve is supposed to come over for dinner, he doesn’t show. Eddie had been making macaroni and cheese all evening, grating the cheese carefully as he bopped his head to some metal song, cheerful, and then it was 7 and then it was 8 and then Wayne thought “maybe call him, Ed.”

Nobody answers. When they call again, nobody answers. And Wayne has a bad feeling about it.

It isn’t until almost 11, dinner cold and Eddie pacing, about to radio someone named Robin when Steve’s car pulls up, they know the lights so well. They run outside to greet him and Eddie freezes when Steve starts falling out of the drivers seat, face dark and pained. Wayne jumps into action. Wayne catches Steve and hauls him into the trailer, his living room, and oh god, he’s covered in bruises like he was put through Eddie’s cheese grater, and oh god, Eddie’s broken out into tears behind him.

Steve’s left eye is swollen shut, and his face is purple and bloody. His lip is split and his hair is wild, his shirt is torn, and Wayne wonders what’s underneath the shirt as he gets the first aid kit, wonders how the hell he thought Steven was anything other than an angel.

Eddie gets a dish towel wet in the kitchen and cleans Steve’s face, quiet and crying, and Wayne sets the first aid kit down next to Eddie and makes some coffee. He thinks about talking, doesn’t. Touches the Garfield magnet for good luck. He feels like maybe Steve needs it.

Steve who is holding Eddie’s wrist as he cleans him up, wincing and crying from his good eye. Finally, after a silence that gives Wayne heartburn, Eddie sits back on his heels and says whisper quiet, “your dad?”

Steve gulps, blinks. “My uh, my dad. I was writing you uh, uh a love note.” Eddie looks over at Wayne. Wayne wipes his brow. “But uh, he found it, and your name’s not uh, Edith” Steve lets out a chuff, winces again. “So he asked what was going on, and I told him. I told him. And then he said I had one minute to take it back or he’d make me take it back.” Eddie lets out a small gasp, more like a howl, and sits completely on the floor. Wayne sits down at the table, cold mac and cheese looking like a sick joke. And he’s so mad. Wayne is so, so mad, seeing this young man who so obviously loves his pride and joy, shares in his pride and joy, who brings him apples to make apple pie, he growls out

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Steven, not one thing. You stay here long as you like, hell, don’t leave. We got you, boy.”

And that’s that. Steve crumples in on himself, and Eddie pulls him into a big hug, just holds him, rocks him, coos “a love note, huh, sweetheart? For me?” And Steve nods until he nods off.

The next morning, while Robin takes care of Steve, Wayne and Eddie break into Steve’s room, clear out everything he owns, and slash his dad’s tires. That was Wayne’s idea - the least he could do for a loved one.

[sorcerous-caress]

Faux Innocence | Halsin

[Smut, purity kink, slightly toxic Halsin, Durge reader, nb!reader]

Halsin has developed a false impression of who you are. Despite being a bhaalspawn, you were the picture of purity in his eyes and he let his urges to corrupt you take over.

If someone were to ask Halsin what true purity was, he'd merely point in your direction.

For how could anything else compare to you? How could the petals of a budding spring flower compete with you? Not even the sweet nectar of a honeysuckle rivals the sweetness of your innocence.

Is what he sincerely believed, constantly preached and defended with vigour against any conflicting view or opinion someone had of you.

He might have not gotten to know you much, but from what he has seen and through all the troubles you went through to help him and his grove, to help cure this land from its curse and save a child of nature, he has a solidified view about you.

A maniac? A murder? A bhaalspawn? Halsin will soon believe that the sun was blue rather than these blatant lies. You couldn't hurt a fly if you tried, you were the picture of a meek newborn deer in his eyes.

No matter how many times your companions attempted to tarnish his glass stained picture of you, it would never shatter.

Yet you accepted his advances, his proposition in broad daylight. Halsin was sure of one thing that day, and it's that you might have been even more naive than he thought you were, to allow a man you've barely known to bed you so easily.

It almost felt sinful of him to wait for you in the woods that night. His neglected cock throbbing and aching against his clothes, tip leaking pearly white droplets at the thought of your wide eyed stare and sweet smile when you finally arrived.

He was gentle, he really tried to be as gentle as he could. The most careful and delicate he has been in his entire lifetime, a stark contrast to his wild nature and usual intense sexual experiences.

Speaking slowly, softly. Allowing you space and asking you if you're sure multiple times in an almost condensing way. The man would coo at your endearing enthusiasm as he patted your head, amused by your innocence.

Your companions really don't know you at all huh? Spinning false tales of you allowing a priest of loviatar to whip and inflict pain on you so publicly, claiming you were flirting with the devil women after Wyll. They even had the audacity to imply that blood and gore turn you on!

These thoughts only make him chuckle, he has never heard anything so bizarre in his life before.

Halsin picks you up, you fit perfectly into his big arms. The urge to protect you, keep you in his embrace from this scary world that would devour you at the first sign of weakness. It's a miracle that someone as sweet and innocent as you managed to remain pure for so long.

As much as he wants to push you against the tree, he fears its bark might be too harsh for your delicate skin. He only wishes for your utmost comfort as he trails up your neck. Giving your forehead a tender peck before pressing his lips against yours, his tongue politely and wordlessly asking permission for your lips to part.

The kiss is slow, tender, and drives him crazy. He is using all of his self restraint, burying every depraved perverted instinct of his deep down being so careful not to tighten his grip around you.

You're like a fragile fledgling of a hummingbird that entrusted him with its delicate wings.

He asks permission before removing your clothes, swallowing down his saliva at the idea of finally seeing your naked body.

He interprets your casual nod as a sign of being embarrassed, what a timid shy thing you are. May Silvanus grant his soul mercy and give him strength for he is barely holding back. His cock painfully hard and left ignored for the sake of you.

The night is warm and calm, the perfect atmosphere to slowly strip you down. The moonlight illuminating your breathtaking figure as his large hands glide down your soft body.

You belong in a soft bed with featherly pillows, he thinks, covered in silk and veiled by white lace. Maybe even a nest of wool or cotton, as delicate and as precious as an egg, you deserved the same protection.

When he reached between your legs, his breath stopped for a second. Eyes drinking in your most intimate parts on display for him. How he longed to drink you up, swallow you like honey down his throat.

You deserve a hot wet mouth to grind into each night, both to wake you up in the early morning with his head between your legs, and to put you to sleep late at night with your thighs above his shoulders.

Before he realises it, his lips are already on you. Sucking and licking against your heat with the hunger of a dying man. You tasted like pure ambrosia and he was getting addicted.

Nothing could pull him away from you at that moment, no one could convince him to let go before you had your orgasm. How sweet your moans sounded as he drove his tongue further in, as he sucked and swallowed.

And when you held his hand, when you entangled your fingers with his instead of pulling on his hair, he almost came untouched. This simple innocent act of holding hands while he devoured you on his knees, while he shamelessly let his gluttony take charge, it drove him mad with lust.

That hand could never hold a knife or a dagger, he thought, there is no way these delicate fingers could handle a weapon. They were made to be held, to be kissed and to be pinned down.

The melody of your moans echoed through the night, getting louder as you approached release. Halsin felt a sense of pride when he saw the hints of tears at the corner of your eyes, what an intense experience his simple act must have been for someone as pure as you.

“Halsin…please” you breathlessly said, “I'm close, I'm…”

Your next words, asking his permission to cum, were his last straw.

For your orgasm never came. Halsin pulled his mouth away with a wet pop as his primal urges took over. Picking you up again and bending you against his chest, your legs over his shoulder as he kept you in the air.

“Please bear with me, I deeply apologise for this.” you felt something large prop your entrance, his eyes were glazed over.

He's an awful man, he thinks as he plunges his cock into your wet hole. He couldn't resist, he couldn't control himself, he couldn't not be greedy and selfish against your temptations.

The sudden intense change of position, the sudden insertion and the large cock pumping in and out of you with a trail of precum painting your walls, was more than enough to send you over the edge.

Your previous denied orgasm coming back twice as strong. Halsin kept fucking you through your release, pace never slowing down as you cried in pleasure and and your insides squeezed him fist tight.

Drool slipped from the corner of your lips, pleasure clouding your brain and making everything look hazy. Halsin lapped it up with the look of a hungry wolf about to devour its prey, kissing you again and pushing you down deeper onto his cock.

He wanted to ruin you, to steal your purity so it's his forever, to share his filthy fantasies with you until you're as much of a pervert as he is. To fuck each and every one of your holes, to fill you with his cum and bulge your stomach.

Apology after apology were whispered against your lips between each kiss, his brutal pace sending you into overwhelming sensitivity from your fresh orgasm. You could only hold on to his strong chest as you were used like a flashlight, fucked and made to cum so easily by the arch-druid.

The idea of keeping you on his cock forever stirs something dark inside him, to have you warming his cock each moment of the day. To stretch you out on it and bounce you slowly until you cum yourself to sleep, have you all pretty and ready on his lap to be fucked. He would protect you, he would treasure you and he would show you what's your true purpose.

Instead of having to worry about you each time you went out on these adventures, never taking him with you and coming back covered in blood courtesy to your careless companions no doubt. How could they let someone so meek and innocent even see the sight of blood?

You're crying his name, hugging him closer to you. Moving your hips as much as you can to match his pace. Even now you're indulging this selfish man's desires? Fucking yourself against him so he'd give you his cum faster? You really are a sweet thing aren't you. The most adorable person he has ever met.

He was never one to abuse his authority or power, but something tells him if you were a cute fresh druid in training in the grove, he would've made you his personal assistant since day one. Gave a million excuses and reasons on why it should be him to train you, to hold you and show you the proper positions to cast spells, to give you the permission to visit the arch-druid chambers any time.

But maybe even nature is too brutal for you. The sight of that bloodied brutalised squirrel just above the elevator still confuses him to this day, apparently animals can still be hostile whilst in a safe sanctuary like the grove. At least he fully assumed it was another animal that had taken its life.

And Halsin will make sure you never see that side of nature, only the most soft and cherry picked ascents. Have you tending to the flowers and caring for the baby bunnies. Maybe, feeding the kittens seems much more your style.

Your cries pull him out of his fantasy of what a different life with you could've been. There are tears going down your eyes from the intense pleasure and the most cute hiccups and pleads for him to please fill you with his cum, to please push his cock deeper in.

How could he ever say no? It would be criminal to deny you anything.

Halsin was already on edge for so long, it only takes a couple more kisses against your neck, a touch of your curious fingers against his pointy ears and he's spilling his seed inside you. Marking you with his cum and filling you the brim.

His cock pulses inside you as it empties itself, he keeps it plugging you and not allowing a single drop of his cum to escape.

Looking at your eyes, he wonders what you're thinking about in that pure mind of yours. Completely unaware to the depravity of gore inside, to your wandering thoughts about snapping his neck, to your dark urges for him to choke you with his large fists as he fucks you against the harshest tree.

No, instead he kisses your forehead. Smiling as sweat glistens on his skin, he keeps you on his lap.

[louloulemons-posts]

I was wondering if you might write a story about reader having 3 cats and she is frustrated because no other boyfriend has gotten along with her cats until she started dating Eddie. Please! “Tea and Toast” is one of my favorites!

Little Voids

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Word Count : 0.9k

Warnings : not proofread, swearing, flirty eddie, kissing, just cute cat content, minor talk of mistreatment of cats, talks of witches.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Okay I’m going out now, you three be good okay?” You said, throwing your bag over your shoulder, giving each cat a fuss on the head. “Pepper, you’re in charge,” throwing a smile at the black cat, with slowly greying fur, you headed out.

You couldn’t help but grin when you saw a familiar face, Eddie was leaning against his van, wild curls blowing in the wind as always. “Hey you,” he said, matching your cheesy grin.

“Hey.” Letting your lips brush his in greeting, you felt his hands come to rest on your waist. “You look very cute today,” he complimented. Your face flushed at that, you and Eddie had been together for a few months now and you were still feeling those jitters.

“I got you something,” you said, pulling a small pouch out of your bag. “Oh yeah? What’s this?” Taking it in his hands, he pulled the tie, letting a ring fall out.

It was twisted silver around a deep blue stone, that appeared black when it wasn’t in the sun. “Oh baby, this is beautiful. You make this?” With a hum you nodded, pulling a chain over your head, you undid the clasp.

There lay Eddies skull ring, “Hey I was looking for that,” he laughed.

“Sorry, I didn’t know your size so,” your face was warm at the admission. “You’re so cute,” taking your face in his palms, he pulled you close.

Meeting your mouth with his own, you sighed into the kiss, pulling yourself closer, holding onto his t-shirt. “Keep kissing me like that, and we’re going to have to go up to your apartment,” Eddie mumbled against your lips.

“You could … if you want to.”

“Are you sure? You’ve kinda been weird about me ever coming up. You hiding a husband up there?” I laughed, shaking my head.

“You’re the only one I’m interested in Eds you know that.” He tried to hide his smile, but failed big time, unable to not share a toothy grin with you. “Then why haven’t you invited me up?”

Pushing away from him slightly, you slid the old and new ring onto his fingers. “Well we’d have company.”

“Oh?” He cocked his head to the side, “You’ve got a roommate?”

“Try three. Three incredibly cute, yet needy roommates.”

“So you’ve got a husband and kids?” he joked. “Try three kids, well they’re basically my kids.”

Eddies face scrunched in confusion. “I’ve got three cats, my little voids as I call them. Pepper, Salem and Binx.”

“You have cats?” You nodded, “And you never told me?!”

“Well I’ve had issues before when I’ve dated people. They didn’t like them, wanted me to get rid of them, so when I refused we’d just fizzle. Think you can tell a lot about people by the way they treat cats.”

“Babe! I love cats, oh my god we have to go be introduced.” Eddie grabbed your hand and pulled you back towards your apartment. “Eddie! We were meant to be going for lunch.”

“Forget lunch, this is so much more important.” Eddie bounced on his toes like a small child waiting for you to unlock the door. You were almost in shock at his excitement, most people weren’t fond of your cats.

But as you had learnt, Eddie Munson was not like most people.

Opening the door with a push, you were instantly met with the sweet sounds of chirping and meowing. “I know my loves, I’m back sooner than we thought.”

You heard the door close behind Eddie, who stood in awe, looking at the trio of cats. The three small creatures looked at him wide eyed. “Oh my god, they’re so cute.”

“Eddie this is Pepper, my oldest girl,” You stroked the salt and pepper cat, her big yellow eyes staring up at you.

“This is Salem,” the other female cat looked up at the mention of her name, big green eyes, a piece of her ear missing.

“And this is my boy, Binx. He’s the newest addition.” Binx was smaller in comparison, but still looked like his older sisters, only orange eyes and sharp features look much different.

“Oh they’re beautiful,” Eddie walked over quietly, holding his hand out so they could sniff. Binx walked over with ease, sniffing for a second then bumping his head into Eddies hand.

Pepper followed after, giving a soft purr when Eddie scratched behind her ears. Salem wasn’t too sure, the shyest of the trio, she sniffed Eddie then made her way to you.

“She not a fan of new people?”

“Not really, took her a while to get used to me. Found her about 3 years ago on Halloween, kids being real mean.

“It’s why I have three black cats, people think they’re witches cats. Don’t want the bad omen or whatever, but they’re just big fuzzballs.”

Salem jumped up onto your shoulder with ease, resting there. “Did you want to hang out here?” You asked Eddie, taking a seat next to him, on your second hand, emerald green couch.

“Would that be okay?”

“Course bubby. I’m glad you like them, I was real worried you’d do the same as others and tell me to get rid.”

“I’d never, they’re lovely.” He smiled as Binx climbed into his lap. “Baby Binx,” you spoke softly, “I was scared you wouldn’t wanna be with me, think I’m some cat obsessed witch.”

“You’re a very sexy witch.” Letting out a chuckle, I pushed a lock of Eddies hair behind his ear, “Thanks babe, you’re not too bad yourself.”

With a smile, his attention turned back to Pepper, who was meowing to get his attention. “God maybe it was a bad idea to introduce you.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re gonna pay more attention to them than me!”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N : I really hope you enjoyed! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to write, the writers block is real, I inspired this on my own cats lmao 🫶🏻

Please remember to adopt animals and love them always, they need us to keep them safe and sound 🤍

Thank you so much for reading!

[auteurdelabre]

A LITTLE SUN - PART FOUR Dieter x f!Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS GET OUTTA HERE OR I'M TELLIN'!)

Story Summary: As a PA to megastar and mega man-child Dieter Bravo you've had your fair share of headaches. Getting accidentally pregnant with his baby however takes the cake, especially when he offers to pay you to be his surrogate. You just weren't expecting to fall in love with him along the way.

Chapter summary: The secret is out. . . And you both have to face the music.

tags: Surrogacy, Pregnancy, Body changes re: pregnancy, Mutual Pining, Idiots in love, Mentions of Drugs, Mentions of Parental Death, Parental Issues, Vulnerable Dieter, Vulnerable Reader.

dividers by @silkholland

a/n: Next chapter is... gonna be a doozy.

part one / part two / part three

"Tell me it isn't true."

"Huh?"

You roll over in bed, wiping the sleep from your eyes. Your cell is firmly lodged against your ear as your mother’s frantic cry is heard on the other end. It’s early the morning after the ultrasound and you’re still reeling from everything. There are soft pings going off on your phone, but all are drowned out by your mother’s terrified voice. 

After the kiss you and Dieter had been driven back to the rental in silence, both of you processing. You were pensive, staring down at your phone reading through work emails. Dieter on the other hand was beaming, his smile never dimming.

He’d tried to talk to you when you entered into the rental but you’d made a beeline for your bedroom where you’d fallen into an unsettled sleep. And now you have your mother screaming down the line at you as you blurrily try to understand what she’s going on about.

"People haven’t stopped calling,” your mom says her voice wobbling. "I keep hanging up but now they're on the lawn!"

"Mom what are you-"

"Tell me you're not having that horrible man's baby!"

It feels like a cold bucket of water has been dumped over your head sending icy chills down your spine. You jerk up in bed, your eyed bulging.

"What did you just say?"

You pull the phone from your ear and see all the pings and alerts that haven’t stopped. While you were sleeping it turns out you have been making headlines back home in the US. TMZ is of course the one to break the news, photos of you and Dieter splashes all over the internet.

Dieter Bravo makes PA his sex slave

There you both are, standing in the parking lot of the hospital. Dieter is smiling at you sweetly, his hand splayed over your belly. Your mid laugh and the two of you appear to have eyes only for each other. 

The next shot is the kiss – the one with your hand on his neck, his hand on your belly and both of you with your eyes shut. The level of intimacy in the photo is staggering to the point that just looking at it makes your face heat. 

How did they get that shot?

“Mom, I have to go,” you tell her breathlessly, hanging up on her still shrieking voice.

"DIETER! GET THE FUCK IN HERE!"

The day is long and by the evening the two of you have turned off your phones. The pings of incoming messages and phone calls are getting to be too much. Diane has scheduled an early meeting with the two of you tomorrow to discuss further steps.

You settle into the TV room, putting on some nature documentary but neither of you is watching it. You're seated by the fire, eyes lost in the flames.

Dieter is stretched out on the sofa, one arm behind his head, the other on his belly. He looked like a lost child, dark eyes wide and unblinking. He’s run his hands through his hair so much that it’s even more wild and mussed than usual.  Eventually when the silence grows oppressive you glance over at him.

"Was Mia pissed?" 

"She hadn't replied to any of my messages." 

Good. 

You don't know where that thought comes from, but it does. A strange sense of victory threads through your body, making you tingle pleasantly. But then your eyes drift over to Dieter still looking anxiously up at the ceiling and guilt soars through you. 

"Are you upset?"

"Of course I'm upset," Dieter snaps. "I really liked her. She's funny and chill and me being a single dad didn't bug her. She wanted me."

You say nothing. You watch as he throws his arm over his eyes, mouth curling into a frown. 

"And the shitty thing is I was gonna tell her when we got back to LA," Dieter sighs. "Fuck."

"I'm sorry," you offer in a quiet voice. Dieter’s eyes are immediately on your face. He sees you turned away from him. 

"What're you sorry for?"

You can't face him. You just shrug instead, feeling the queasy sensation of sentimentality. 

"I fucked it up for you."

Dieter is off the couch and crawling over to you without thinking. His long legs carry him clumsily until he’s kneeling at your feet.

"You didn't," Dieter says with that husky earnestness you’ve come to expect from him. You don't respond and he furrows his brows. "Hey, look at me."

You shake your head. You don't want to look at him. Dieter hates talking to people without seeing their eyes, it makes him uneasy. He doesn't see the irony in him constantly wearing sunglasses. He moves his fingers to your chin, gently tilting your face in his direction. 

"You did nothing wrong," 

"I kissed you."

"You were excited."

"But I kissed you," you repeat. 

"And I kissed you," Dieter offers without thinking before stumbling over his tongue as his words finally hit his brain. "It's like the first time you were excited about the baby and I loved sharing that with you."

He holds your gaze as you hold your breath. 

"I don't regret that moment. I wouldn't change it." His hand slips from your chin to your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

His face is so close to yours you can smell the cologne he spritzed to cover up the smell of cigarettes. You can see the length of his dark eyelashes. You force your eyes not to drift to his pouty mouth. 

"Even if it fucks up everything with you and Mia?"

Dieter goes to respond to you when a loud bang sounds on the front door. The two of you break apart and Dieter groans as he stands muttering about his knees. You move to the seat by the window, not up for talking to whatever company Dieter has invited over but not wanting to be in your stuffy bedroom. 

"Mia?"

You turn as Dieter says her name. Mia shoves past Dieter into the rental without taking the time to say a word to him. Her hair is wild from the wind outside and her jacket hangs on the crooks of her elbows. Despite everything she still looks glamorous. She spies you sitting near one of the windows with wide eyes. 

"Hi," you offer weakly. 

Dieter steps forward to follow Mia towards you but you wave him away. He shifts back, hanging awkwardly by the front door as the two women in his life meet eyes. Mia is staring at you harshly, her hand going to motion towards your belly.

"It's his isn't it?" Mia demands breathlessly.

You think of denying it but you know she doesn't deserve it. You hang your head, chin touching your chest. 

"Yes."

"Fuck," Mia says shaking her head. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

"You're not!" You insist, struggling to a stand. The blanket that had been draped over your belly falls to the ground. 

Mia's eyes rove your expanded stomach, noticing the pronounced swell under your tight t-shirt more easily than the last time she saw you. Her eyes widen and you feel the need to explain before she starts screaming or crying.

"It was a one night stand," you explain in a rush. 

"One where you got pregnant and are keeping the baby," Mia says flatly. "Doesn't sound like a casual one night thing to me."

"Dieter is paying me."

Mia's reaction is as expected: confused and then horrified. Her perfectly manicured nails slide over her mouth in distress. 

"What?"

"Dieter, get Mia a drink," you throw over Mia's shoulder. You need him to stop standing there staring at you like a bump on a log. You look back to Mia. "Please, just come sit down and let's talk about this." 

Dieter scrambles, knocking into one of the chairs before scampering off into the kitchen, relieved to have something to do. 

Mia looks to be debating your offer before nodding. She follows you to the large tufted chairs by the window, taking the one opposite you. 

"I don't even know why I'm here," Mia laughs ruefully, not able to meet you sympathetic gaze. "It's not like... I don't..."

She fumbles for the words that you already know and you give a chagrined smile. 

"Because you like him," you tell her.

"We barely know one another," she says to her chapped hands. “We haven’t even slept together.”

She nestles back into the chair like a delicate bird making home in a nest. Dieter rushes over with two full glasses of red wine. He presses one into Mia's hand, wincing at her cool appraisal of him. His hand extends the wineglass towards you before he realizes the faux pas. 

"Oh fuck," Dieter says wincing. "I didn't-"

"Its fine," you say rolling your eyes. "You drink it," you motion to the sofa across the room when Dieter goes to perch on the arm of your chair, "over there!"

Dieter nods, shuffling quickly away from you, the wine spilling in like drops after him like a bloody trail. He places the wineglass onto the coffee table with a quiet knock. 

You glance over Mia's body tucked tightly into the chair. She looks so haunted, so defeated that it breaks your heart. Yes, you can admit that there is a part of you that is jealous of her relationship but you know that it's just hormones. Ultimately you want Dieter happy and Mia makes him happy. 

"Mia," you say her name softly, leaning forward conspiratorially as her large eyes turn on you. "You and Dieter have a strong connection."

She gives a scoff into her wineglass. "Right."

"I've seen the two of you," you insist. "You bring out the best in him. You seem happy when you're with him."

"He makes me laugh," Mia relents. 

You try not to notice Dieter's head poking up from the couch, his eyes flitting from you to Mia and back again. 

"Don't let this," you motion to your expanded belly, "get in the way of that." 

"You say it like it's not a big deal," Mia says with a distressed laugh, her hand gesturing to your belly. "It's a child you two made together!"

"It’s a business transaction," you say firmly. "Dieter wanted to be a dad, I got pregnant, he offered to pay and I accepted. That's how non-emotional the entire thing was. I never wanted kids."

Mia twists the stem of her wineglass between her fingers anxiously. The drink sloshes against the sides hypnotically. 

"Why would you do this?" Mia finally asks you gently. "If you never wanted kids, I mean. This is a big ask."

You know she doesn't believe you and you don't know how to convince her other than giving her all the brutal facts. You exhale slowly, lips pressing together tightly. 

"Because I have significant debt," you tell her leaning back into the chair. "And when Dieter offered me a very generous payment to carry the child to term I didn't want to turn it down."

You try to sound clinical and detached as you explain this. Dieter's eyes flicked to your face when you mentioned the debt, his brows raised. Now he just continues looking uncertainly between you and Mia. 

"You're not going to want to be in this baby's life at all?" Mia asks, brow furrowed. "You're just going to go work for Dieter every day and ignore your own baby?"

The way she says this sounds judgmental. Like you're a monster for choosing this. It makes your hackles rise momentarily before you remember that she's come here to understand everything. You smooth down the pillow absently, grounding yourself.  

"I won't be working for Dieter after I give birth," you explain in a rush, avoiding the way Dieter's eyes move sharply to your face. "I'll pay off my debts and then I'm going back to school to finish my schooling. I won't even be in the same city."

You hide a wince when you see Dieter's hurt expression behind Mia's shoulder at this proclamation. You know he’d been upset when you mentioned Sacramento in passing, but now he just looks devastated.

Mia blinks rapidly, looking even more thrown then before. "You won't?"

"Nope." You shake your head before giving a tepid smile. "But that means I won't be there to get in the way either. No random run ins, no having to pretend things aren't totally fucking awkward."

Mia gives a small smile at this

“It also means that your relationship with Dieter would be public news,” you tell her quietly. “It means tabloids running things about you being a stepmom. It means a lot of unwanted attention.”

“I could give a fuck about that,” Mia says rolling her eyes. “They said I didn’t have a belly button last year. I don’t care what they print about me. I just signed an airtight three picture deal with Marvel.”

You want to laugh at how you pinned Mia as this innocent little waif who didn’t know what she was getting into. How wrong you were. She’s more shrewd and worldly than most fifty year olds you know in the business.  Suddenly your fears about her being too innocent, about her career being damaged, are pushed to the side.

But her smile drops and she jerks her head behind her to glare at a solemn looking Dieter who now stands braced against the edge of his couch. She places her empty wineglass next to her on the floor.

"You lied to me, Dee."

"I told him to," you break in before your boss can reply. "I begged him not to tell anyone. Even you."

Mia turns back around, brow raised. "Why?"

"Because I was involved in a one night stand with my boss," you say with a dejected scoff. "And I got pregnant from it. From the man the media once called Burnout Bravo. I was humiliated. I didn’t want anyone to know. My own mother didn’t even know until TMZ came out with it."

Dieter feels his heart sink as you say this. The truth that he always suspected so brutally delivered makes him feel like he's been punched in the gut. Burnout Bravo.

Mia begins twisting her fingers together nervously. "Really?"

"Really," you nod before shooting a look over at Dieter that says play along. 

"It's the truth," Dieter says hollowly. 

"So there's no feelings here?" Mia asks the both of you. 

You're the first to reply with a laugh you force from the bottom of your belly. 

"No. Never. It was a one night stand because we were drunk and because I hadn't been laid in months. That's all it was."

"Yeah," Dieter says laughing the same sharp way you do. "I don't fuck my employees. We were wasted." 

That stings. To be referred to as an employee and so carelessly. But it’s what needs to be done. The two of them fit together. You lean closer to Mia, dropping your voice so that only she can hear you.

“Mia what you two have is special,” you emphasize. “I’m not just saying that. I’ve known Dieter for years. You’re the first one I’ve really seen make him change for the better.”

Mia seems to soften at this and you watch as Mia pushes up from the chair and draws over to Dieter. He stands and she allows him to pull her into his arms. He closes his eyes as he holds her against him. She murmurs something into his neck and the moment suddenly feels incredibly intimate.

You feel your intruding on the two of them and you shuffle past them into your bedroom, closing the door quietly behind you.

Back in the kitchen Mia pulls back slightly to gaze up at Dieter.  "Do you want her, Dieter?"

"What?" Dieter blinks rapidly. "You already asked me that and-"

"And now she's not in the room with us," Mia finishes, peering into Dieter's face. "And I want your total honesty." 

Total honesty.

He can't give her that. Can't tell her how you occupy his thoughts at all times. Can't tell her that even if you weren't carrying his child he's crazy about you. Can't tell her that he's so touched that you care about him well past that of a personal assistant. Can't tell her that he's told you things no one knows because he trusts you more than anyone. 

And he can't tell her those things because he really cares for Mia, more than he ever expected to. If things continue between the two of them there's a very good chance he's going to fall in love with her because right now he's well on his way. 

He doesn't want to give her up. 

His affection for you will wane. When you leave for school he'll be able to forget you. You don't want him so why would he pin his affections on that?

He needs to move on from you. 

"No," Dieter says firmly. "It's not like that. I mean of course I care about her. She's been my assistant for years and she's carrying my kid." 

"You know that's not what I mean," Mia says flatly, her light eyes scanning his face. Dieter stares into those eyes, feeling himself melt. 

Mia is sweet and ambitious and she likes to party. She's got an edge, a relaxed way of being and she's fucking gorgeous. She's an actress so of course there's a bit of ego but that's nothing he can't handle. If anything he likes it about her. 

Mia had been so understanding, so cool. Dieter could feel himself falling harder and harder for her the longer they were together. Part of him thinks she suggested the casual nature of the relationship because that's all she thought he was capable of. She gets him in a lot of ways. 

But you’re here and you're carrying his child and even if you weren't, after breaking down the walls you keep up these past few months, Dieter doesn't know that he can stop wanting you. It doesn't make sense; you don't want him like that so why does he still desire you? 

He needs to quit it though. If he doesn't watch himself he's going to lose Mia and he doesn't want that. 

"I want you," Dieter finishes softly, cupping her cheek. 

Mia slides her manicured hand over Dieter's wrist, sighing as she looks up at him. 

"I think maybe we need to take a beat Dee."

"Huh? Why?"

Dieter can't understand what she's talking about. They're going at a glacial pace. He hasn't even taken her to bed yet. Something that would have bothered him in past relationships, but for this one just feels right.

"Because I need some time to think things over," Mia tells him gently. "This is a lot to take in."

Dieter frowns. "But, I like being with you."

"And I like being with you," Mia assures him with a smile. "But I need to wrap my head around this. I know why you did what you did, but I need to sit with it and let you know how I feel."

She’s dumping him.

Dieter isn’t an idiot. He’s done this song and dance in his time. He knows by the tentative way she meets his eyes, the way her hand stays lightly on his wrist. She’s softening the blow, he realizes.

"If that's what you want," he manages. He won’t force a woman to be with him. And despite everything he’s glad he met Mia.

"It is," Mia nods. She stands on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips, smiling as she pulls back. "I better get back to the hotel. I have an early day on set tomorrow. Not all of us were lucky enough to finish wrapping their scenes."

"The price of being the lead," Dieter grins. Mia giggles, going to pull on her jacket before giving him a brief wave.

“I’ll see you later, Dee.”

You're in bed when Mia leaves, half dozing on your side. You’ve just removed the headphones from your belly and you’re ready to fall into a hopefully long sleep. You start when the door to your room creaks opens and Dieter steps inside, creeping over to your bed.

"Hey," you whisper in the dark. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Dieter nods, unbuttoning his shirt. "We talked it out."

"Okay. Good."

The shirt is dropped to the ground, followed quickly by his jeans. Wearing only his boxers he stills, realizing he's not in his room but yours. 

"Did you... Can I sleep in here?"

"In here?" 

"Yeah," Dieter says and you can hear the insecurity there. 

"Sure," you say pulling back the covers. "If you can fit in this narrow bed with me and my stomach."

"I'll fit," Dieter grins. 

You feel him slip under the covers, shifting nearer to you until his breathing is fanning over the back of your neck.

His hand tentatively rests at your hip, tensing. He remembers last time the two of you were together in bed, you snuggling up to him, kissing his shoulder, holding him. There was nothing sexual about it, just comforting. He wants that again. 

"Would," he starts, feeling embarrassed. "Would it-"

"What?"

"Would it be okay if I held you? Not trying anything," he quickly adds which makes you smile in the dark. "I just like holding him." 

Your smile fades. He doesn't want to hold you. He wants to hold the baby.

Of course he does. 

You want to quell the beating of your heart. You want to remind yourself that this is transactional. 

But more than that you want to be held by him. 

You want to inhale the scent of his cologne and feel the ridge of his nose grazing your neck. You want to feel his hand curl against your stomach. And most of all you want to fall asleep with the man who helped you to create this life you carry.

"Yeah," you shuffle back against him. "I'm sure he misses you."

It's a silly thing to say especially since the baby doesn't even know it’s a baby yet. But Dieter grins at the comment, holding you. 

"I missed him," he murmurs, hand grazing softly against your abdomen. 

Guilt gnaws away at you though. 

"Would Mia be okay knowing you're in here?" You whisper in the darkness. "I mean, I know nothing is happening, I just mean... You know."

"Yeah. Pretty sure she dumped me." Dieter supplies.  He feels you tense in his arms, tilting your head over your shoulder to stare up at him concerned.

"What? Really?" 

"Yeah," you feel Dieter shifting behind you, his large arm coming to wrap tighter around your waist. "Says she needs time to process everything." 

“Doesn’t sound like breaking up.”

“Trust me,” Dieter sighs. “I know a break up monologue when I hear it. I’ve given enough of them.”

“Oh.”

You think on this, hand sliding under your pillow. Dieter sounds resigned, like this isn't necessarily something he wants. 

"You're okay with it, Dieter?"

"Yeah." 

"Maybe it was for the best," you offer, trying to cheer him up. "I don't know that monogamy was ever your thing." 

The moment stretches between you both, the room quiet. Dieter has found your left hand, his thumb coming to absently rub the ring you wear there. The ring he bought you that you never take off. The ring that if you knew how much it cost you would never wear for fear of losing it. He loves seeing it on your finger, knowing that something he bought you ties you to him in some way. 

"For the right person it would be," Dieter finally offers in a soft rasp. Before you can say anything he's flicking the lamp next to the bed off. 

"G'night." 

"Night."

Dieter wakes the next morning when the scent of your perfume on the pillow. He cracks his eyes open to see the bed empty and he feels a stab of disappointment. 

He showers before pulling on his clothes and robe and padding into the kitchen. You're sitting there, backlit by the sun and when you look up from your cereal bowl and cast a bright smile in his direction he feels momentarily breathless. 

You’re so fucking beautiful.

"Morning, ready for a painfully long flight home tonight?"

"Y-yeah," Dieter stammers before pouring himself a cup of the brewed coffee. 

You watch him looking anxiously around as he dumps the sugar into his brew before taking a seat opposite you. 

"So I was thinking about the Mia thing," You offer after a sip of tea. “She loves to travel right? Like, outside of work?”

“Yeah,” Dieter nods enthusiastically. "Last week she actually suggested we go on a trip together after the film wraps."

“So do it,” you insist. “Show her with action that you want and cherish her. Just the two of you somewhere romantic. Where does she like? Paris? Italy?”

“She was always talking about Prague,” Dieter offers as he recalls their times together. When they were first getting to know one another under the pretense of running lines. “She’s always wanted to go.”

“So take Mia to Prague,” you say enthusiastically as you can manage. “See the sights, stay at wonderfully fancy places, do romantic things. Prove to her that you want to be with her. Because she obviously means something to you Dieter.”

“You seem awfully concerned about my romantic life,” Dieter muses. “When did that start?”

“Contrary to what you believe, I care about you,” you say shortly. “And when I’m gone I want to make sure that things are stable. Mia is a good stabilizing force. And from what I can tell she’s a lot tougher than I gave her credit for.”

“So Prague,” Dieter echoes, thinking about your suggestion. It’s a good plan. A smart one if Mia will give him a chance to prove how much he cares about her.

“I won’t lie I’m jealous,” you smirk at your cereal bowl. "Always wanted to go there."

I'll take you. I'll take you anywhere you want to go.

Dieter shakes his head to erase this dangerous thought. 

No. No you won't, Bravo. She's leaving practically as soon as your kid is here. Stop thinking about her like that. She's your employee. 

"Well you'll have three hundred thousand dollars to play around with," Dieter says forcing a smile to his own face. 

"Two hundred," you correct through a mouthful of cereal. 

"Huh?"

"Well uh, I have to pay off my mom's mortgage. There's still about a two hundred thousand left on it. Then I have to pay off my student loans the next semesters' tuition and rent a place so... No trips to Prague for me." 

You give a little huffing laugh before going back to your cereal. Dieter takes a long sip of his coffee thinking about everything that’s gone on.

You begin to tap into your tablet, bringing up your flight details. Dieter watches you typing, transfixed by the way your fingers move, the way the ring he bought you sometimes spins on your finger. He recalls the way those same fingertips felt gripping him as he licked-

Fucking stop.

"Okay, that's done; the car will be here around three. Bags are packed, your passport is with mine," you say checking things off your list with a satisfied smile before it drops. “And our meeting with Diane is in ten.”

“Diane?”

Diane is the big guns when it comes to PR and Dieter’s career in general. Knowing that you’ve pissed her off stresses the both of you big time. And as if you’ve summoned a well organized demon the laptop chirps.

Seconds later you and Dieter sit awkwardly next to one another at the kitchen table, your laptop positioned between the two of you. A furious looking Diane is on the zoom call, her dark red brows knitted together. 

"I thought I was perfectly clear."

"You were Diane," you jump in, your cheeks red. "It's-"

"No public affection," Diane interjects. "No fraternizing with co-stars."

Dieter gives a sheepish grin at that before his eyes jot to you. You can't even look at him in the small box of the zoom meeting. You feel so foolish about all of this. All your years of professionalism, striving to have things under control and this is how it ends? A blurry snapshot of you kissing your celebrity boss?

"The baby kicked for the first time," Dieter offers quietly. "We were just really excited."

"Congrats," Diane says without a shred of conviction. "Now we have a PR nightmare that we have to spin."

“I know we screwed up, Diane, but I swear it was a heat of the moment,” you implore her. “It won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t. As of this moment you are no longer working for Dieter Bravo.”

“Hey-“ Dieter starts but Diane is talking over him.

“You wanted to keep her on Dee, and look what happened. And now we can’t even keep you on the books because it’ll look suspicious,” Diane snaps. “You can’t be seen fucking and paying your assistant, it’ll be career suicide. I’ll have to pay her wage through a third party and I really didn’t need this headache considering I was already finished up on a plan for unveiling baby Bravo and now I have to rethink the entire thing.”

 Dieter looks over to see your head hung low, your cheeks stained red. He knows how much this is killing you. How much you prided yourself on your work acumen and professionalism. He tries to slide his hand over yours but you pull away sharply, eyes going to Diane.

“I understand, Diane. Just tell me what I need to do.”

The flight back is a strained one. Diane has booked you both first class and private pods but across the plane from one another. You don’t interact the entire flight; instead you’re left to your own thoughts as you absently stroke your stomach.

You have a few things in your favor – it was getting close to having to stop working anyway. You’re officially showing and you’re still getting paid. That money can all go to the family.

The family.

Your mother’s voice over the phone rings in your ears. The shrill terrified shout that this couldn’t be true. You’ve disappointed her. You have to explain it all to her as soon as possible. It’ll be easier to just tear the band aid off.

Dieter rests in his own private pod three whiskey’s deep, his swollen eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He’s been holding back tears all morning and now they slip down his gold cheeks in the privacy of the flight.

He doesn’t get to see you or the baby until he’s born. It’s a fucking cruelty.

“If you want her to have a normal life, Dee, you’ll stay far away from her. She needs to be seen as a surrogate only, not a romance. We can write the kiss off as a one-time thing if we find an alternative romantic partner to highlight for you.”

Of course he’d agreed immediately. He doesn’t want you or the baby stressed. It’s his own fault for wanting you so badly it aches. You promised to update the app daily, to video chat at least every other day. That had seemed fair.

But now on the way back to LA, Dieter can’t help but feel this growing pit starting in his belly. A coldness that has nothing to do with the weather. He’s not going to see you every day, won’t be able to smell your perfume, hear your voice when you sing in the shower (off-key), won’t snuggle you to him as you watch nature documentary’s. 

At least before this photo Dieter had the option of going to your house to see you in the last few months of your pregnancy, but now with the media frenzy there’s no possibility. It’ll be horrible for you and your mom.

Once he’s off the flight Dieter’s phone is buzzing. He takes it out, surprised to see that Diane has already sent him a few texts. He’s confused before he remembers that without you as his PA he’ll be receiving her messages directly.

[12:33pm] I talked to Mia’s publicist. She’s agreed to a public romance rollout this Friday. New club opening.  Confirming your availability.

Dieter glances over at you in the luggage carousel, eyes flitting from bag to bag as you wait for yours.  You look like a goddess despite your dark black clothes and oversized sunglasses. He knows you’re trying to be inconspicuous.

[12:34pm] D: I’m available.

You’ve got your luggage and Dieter scrambles to grab his own before rolling it over to you. You notice his approach and try to affect a casual attitude. Thankfully no one seems to recognize you from the photos.

“I’ll make sure you get into your taxi,” Dieter offers quietly walking alongside you, his brows raised.

“No it’s fine,” you insist, taking your rolling luggage and giving him a soft smile. “I’ll be good. I’ll head out first; hopefully if there are any paps they won’t recognize me before I’m in the cab.”

“Right.”

When you walk out of the airport you think of all the things Diane warned you about over the phone. The photographers, the yelling, the attention. You thought you were ready for it.

You were wrong.

But there are at least fifty paparazzi all hanging around like flashbulb vultures waiting to catch you both looking vulnerable. Groups of men with oversized cameras are all shouting at you, calling your name, saying things to get your attention.

"Over here! Hey, over here!"

"Have you two picked out names yet?"

“Did you put holes in the condom?”

"Do you know the gender?"

“Do you sleep with all your employers?”

"Is it twins? It looks like it could be twins."

You feel anxious tears starting at the corner of your eyes. They’re going to photograph you and you’re going to be crying. You still in the crowd, hand on your luggage strap, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

The taxi seems so far away, the lights, the sounds; the sensation of being suffocated is all you can focus on. You feel like you’re drowning. Your chin wobbles and another camera is thrust directly into your face.

One hand curls over your belly protectively before you raise the other to shield your face. You feel completely alone and vulnerable, the tears almost spilling when you feel a warm hand envelop your wrist. You glance up to see Dieter there at your side, stony faced at the paparazzi as he pulls you gently towards him.

“Give her room to breathe.”

Gratitude floods you and despite Diane’s directions to avoid each other like the plague you let him lead you towards where his private SUV waits.

His arm goes to your back, urging you to move with him. As you and Dieter shuffle through the throng of shouting people you suddenly understand why Dieter drowns himself in drugs and sex and everything else. This constant whirlwind, this unbearable attack on all sides is exhausting. Photographers, fans, cameras, eyes, shouts. It's terrifying.

"Is this the result of a one night stand?"

“Dieter have you asked for a DNA test?”

 “How old are you?”

“DIETER I LOVE YOU!”

“Did you feel pressured because Mr Bravo is your boss?”

“Can I have your autograph!?”

“What a slut!”

“What’s the sex like?”

A camera is thrust inches from your face and you give a yelp, putting up a free hand in front of you as the light flashes.

"Hey, get the fuck away from her," Dieter says placing a protective arm around your waist and sweeping you along with him. He doesn’t let you go as he herds you through the line of shouting people. Dieter’s driver is there, grabbing your bag for you and loading it into the SUV.

“Just breathe, baby,” Dieter murmurs against your temple. “I got you.”

You want to tell him that this will look bad in tomorrow’s gossip column; that even just walking side by side will create a frenzy of tabloid speculation. But you’re terrified at the mob of people and your hand clutches at the front of Dieter’s jacket as you shy away from them.  

"Are you really pregnant or is this a publicity stunt?"

"Dieter what about rumors that you've been linked recently with Mia Rowe?"

"It's it true this child might be Robert Pattinson’s?"

When the last photographer starts shouting and shoving the camera in your face again you let out a small whimper as Dieter opens the door of the SUV for you.

“Please just stop!”

Dieter hears your cry and turns to see your terrified expression before you’re burying your face in Dieter’s shoulder.

Dieter loses all rational thought. All he can focus on is the way you’re trembling in his arms, the way your hand has gone protectively over your stomach protecting his son, the child you made together.   

Before you can stop him he's reared back and kicked the photographer in the vee of his legs and the man blanches. You look on in horror at the altercation.

"Dieter!"

Flashbulbs are going off like crazy as the man groans sharply, grabbing between his legs and collapsing onto the sidewalk.

“I said stay the fuck away from her!” Dieter shouts, his cheeks red.

He pulls himself in after you, closing the door before his arms are around you, pulling you against him. The windows are tinted, but that won’t matter after that little performance out there.

“Ready to go Mister Bravo?”

“Yeah, thanks Hank.”

The car is already in motion, heading for Dieter’s place as the sound of shouts grow quieter and quieter with each passing mile. You’re still shaking, still reeling from everything that happened.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “That must have been terrifying. I’m used to it now but I remember how it used to be.”

“How do you do it?” you ask, still trembling. “They’re relentless.”

“Coke. Sex. Booze,” Dieter shrugs as if this is a natural response. “I get by. But it doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Dieter has his hand holding yours, thumb rubbing soothing circles along the back of your palm. 

“And here I thought my Mom was going to be the most stressful part of today,” you say trying to offer a weak smile.

“Is it really going to be that bad do you think?”

“Honestly yeah, I do,” you say nodding.  “She’s going to be pissed and I’m going to have to walk on eggshells until the baby is born.”

"Why don't you stay in my guest house?"

You gaze up and over at Dieter, seeing that he’s watching your face with a soft expression as the car coasts through the busy LA traffic.

"What?”

"You don't want to stay at home, I have the empty space. I don't see why that's so weird. And if I’m honest I don’t wanna be so far away from my son,” Dieter finishes lamely. “I like seeing him growing every day.”

I like seeing you every day.

He can’t admit that to you. He never will. He’ll swallow it down deep.

“I have to go home, Dieter.” You insist. “Plus, Diane would murder me. This flies in the face of everything she’s trying to cultivate for your image.”

Dieter doesn’t say anything, but he does relax back into the seat next to you.  He doesn’t release your hand, instead he maneuvers his fingers, lacing them through yours and resting them on the seat between you both.

You tell Hank your address and you take a deep breath as a short while later he rounds on your street.

Your Mom wasn’t joking.

There really are tons of people littering your normally quiet suburban neighborhood. Many with expensive looking cameras and phones. You groan as the SUV crawls by them before you insist on having the Hank drive you around the corner. The last thing you need is to be seen getting out of Dieter’s car.

Hank goes to take your bags out of the trunk and Dieter readies himself to follow you out the door.

“I’ll come-“

“No,” you insist gently. “I have to do this myself.”

He wants to deny this but he sees the seriousness of your countenance and nods. He knows you’re a strong, capable woman. But the thought of you being messed with by those paps are making his jaw clench.

“Don’t worry,” you tell him with a grin as you slip on a pair of oversized sunglasses. “Thanks to you I know how to get them to leave me alone.”

He can’t help but let out a short laugh, cut short when you close the car door. Dieter watches you take the suitcase handle from Hank and thank him before you roll it down the sidewalk and out of his life for the foreseeable future.

The first thing you notice when you get inside your house is how quiet it is.

Especially compared to the madness that is just outside your front door.  You’d successfully ignored the men and women who shouted questions at you. You were busy on the phone with the local police ensuring that your Mother’s home would no longer be swarmed. You slide your suitcase to the left of the door.

“Mom?”

She appears moments later dressed in her sweatpants and oversized sweater.  She hasn’t left the house despite it being a workday.

“Your flight was okay?”

“Uh, yep.”

“Good.”

“You didn’t go to work today?”

“Couldn’t get my car out of the driveway,” your Mom says tightly.

“I called the city when I was walking up,” you tell her, toeing off your shoes. “They’ll take care of it.”

She nods but makes no move to smile or to hug you. She’s always been an emotional woman, prone to hugs and kisses so her complete lack of anything has you on edge.

“I made pie,” she says, “come have a slice.”

You hear distant sirens outside as you follow her into the kitchen, taking your coat off before plopping into seat opposite her at the table. You don’t miss how her eyes widen at the obvious swell of your stomach.  

“So it’s true.”

You watch her cut the peach pie she’s baked noting that her fingers are trembling. You say nothing in reply, simply watching as she slides your portion and a fork to you on the plate before she looks back at your face.

“You made a child with that horrible man.”

“He’s not a horrible man,” you say, your voice coming out more caustic than expected. “You don’t know anything about him other than what the media wants you to think.”

“Oh, he’s an angel then, is that it?” your Mother gives a humorless laugh as she sits in her seat, the cheap wood creaking. “He doesn’t do drugs? Doesn’t say crazy things? Doesn’t act like a fool?”

Your mother has always ragged on Dieter through your entire employment. Most of the time you could shrug it off, ignore it or even laugh along with her. But now? After everything you’ve experienced with him you feel a strangely intense feeling of protectiveness. For the soft man that holds you in bed and buys you rings just because. For the man that listens to you talk about your Dad and shares about his mom. Hearing her deride him makes you curl your fingers around your fork in anger.

“Even if he did all those things, so what? If the worst thing you can say about Dieter Bravo is that he acts immature and says silly things and does drugs every once in a while does that really make him so horrible?”

“It makes him irresponsible,” your Mom snaps. The worst possible thing you can be in your mother’s eyes in irresponsible. “And he’s supposed to be the father of your child? Of my grandson? I’m not going to have a son in law that acts like he does.”

A son in law?

You could laugh at the thought of Dieter being a married family man. When would he have time to go on hippie retreats and have threesomes? Although considering his behavior of late perhaps that’s an unfair belief. Regardless, Dieter Bravo is not the marrying kind.

"Mom we're not getting married. Ever."

Your mom's fork clatters onto her plate, the pie forgotten.

"What? Why not?"

Fuck. This is going to hurt so much more than you thought. Hearing your Mom refer to herself as a grandmother is a new kind of pain you weren’t anticipating. You can see it there in her eyes that keep lingering on your belly – all the hopes and dreams of grandchildren running through her mind.

“We’re not in a relationship.… this isn't... I'm not keeping the baby," you finally manage to say in a thick voice.  

"What?” Your mom nearly shouts when she looks to your swollen stomach, her features contorted in horror.  "You can't just get an-"

"No, not like that. I mean, I'm giving the baby to Dieter. He's paying me to be his surrogate." 

Saying it out loud makes your heart hammer. If you thought she looked horrified at the previous comment, she looks downright disgusted now. She leans back in her chair, as if she physically cannot stand to be closer to you.

"What?"

"I'm getting paid," you explain in a rush, hoping that this will ease the pain of it. "Three hundred thousand dollars." 

You expect that this will soften the blow of the news but if anything she looks as if she’s been slapped.

“You’re… selling your baby?”

The way she says it makes your skin crawl, like you’re some backroom monster.

“It’s not like that,” you say raking your hands through your hair in frustration. “Mom, I’m not like, his Mom. I’m just carrying him. Like, remember when Liz had the surrogate? I’m like that girl they hired.”

“Liz didn’t let her husband sleep with that woman did she? They did it at the hospital, with a transfer,” Your mom peers into your face and you think you see a shadow of hope. “Is that what happened, honey? You got an embryo transfer?”

Fuck this is getting worse by the minute.

“No. We slept together. It was a mistake.”

You wince when you feel your son kick, a light flutter that has you gripping the sides of your abdomen in surprise.  Guilt immediately goes through you – can he understand what you’re saying during all of this? No, of course not, he’s a fucking fetus. And yet that doesn’t stop you from welling up.

"This is so…twisted,” your mom replies with a shake of her head. “It’s one thing to sleep with him and have his baby. But you… You’re not even going to be his mother? You’re selling him off like he’s a piece of furniture?”

A solemn quiet goes around the space and your mother drops her napkin to the table.  You take a bite of your pie, finding it bitter.

“That’s not at all what’s happening.”

"If your father was here-"

"Well he's not!" you snap out at her. “You had no one else to take care of you so I stepped up. I see how long the hours are that you work, how exhausted you are. You’re supposed to retiring at this age, not taking on double shifts. I wanted to pay off the mortgage for you. I wanted to pay for my schooling. And Dieter wanted a child, so how is this pregnancy a bad thing? We all got something out of it.”

“Got something out of it?” Your mother almost sneers. “You don’t get something out of it. You created life and now you’re selling him for profit to a man who needs help staying sober longer than a week. It’s disgusting what the two of you are doing.”

A searing pain goes through you as you sit there, the pie dry and tacky in your mouth. It hurts to swallow it down. But it hurts more to know that your sacrifice is now being thrown back into your face.

“I did this for you,” you tell her weakly.

"I never asked you to do anything for me," your mom says and now you see the shame in her eyes. The disappointment. “It’s disgraceful treating human life like a commodity. I… I can’t accept that money from you. It’s tainted.”

I did it all for nothing.

You feel numb. Your Mom has lowered her chin to her sternum and you can see fat tears slipping down her nose. She’s silent as she cries and when she does this it reminds you so much of your father’s funeral and the way she’d silently sobbed that you feel physically ill.

You can’t be in this environment. Not just because it hurts so much to have her talk to you like she has. But because you can’t spend the next several months on eggshells, high strung and anxious. You can’t do that to the life that is building itself within your womb, cell by cell. You will give your son every advantage you can.

"I can't be in this house," you say softly. "I'm sorry, mom. I... I can't."

“I think that might be for the best,” she agrees, and you notice that she can’t meet your eyes.

You move to your feet wobbling to your bedroom, closing the door gently behind you. You look at the awards on the desks, the beautiful painting you look at each morning, at the space you lived in with your Mom and Dad. You can almost hear his voice as he told he was so proud of his smart daughter and her science awards.

If you try you can remember how it felt to have him read you bedtime stories before you fell asleep in this very room. You can still smell the cinnamon bread your Mom would make you every year for your first day of school.

But then you blink and all you see is a room with a bed and a desk and some art on the walls. A past life of someone who doesn’t exist anymore.  You catch your reflection in your dresser mirror, amused to see that the woman staring back at you hasn’t been a child for a long time. She stands with a splotchy face and tired eyes, and a stomach that swells with life.

“You’re gonna be safe,” you tell the bump in the mirror.  “I promise.”

You glance out between your drawn blinds thankful to see that the group has been dispersed by local law enforcement. Good. You bring out your mobile and begin tapping out a message.

[4:31pm]:  Is that offer of staying at your place still on?

D [4:31pm]: i'll send a car

You don’t even fight him on it.

[4:32pm]: Thank you.

D [4:32pm]: u never have to thank me

You make your way to your closet where you bring out a second suitcase, filling it to the brim with everything you think you’ll need for the next little bit. Your suitcase full of clothes from your last trip is waiting for you at the front door for when you exit.

You sit on the end of your bed, waiting for the car when you feel your phone buzz at your hip.

It’s a photo from Dieter, one that makes your brows saddle. It’s of his guest house, the one he usually just keeps for out of town guests and overflow storage for his paintings and other purchases.

But you can see he’s organized it, swept the floors and set everything up nicely complete with a vase of fresh flowers from his garden sitting on the coffee table.

D [4:56pm]: ready and waiting, baby mama

Your hand is on your abdomen without thought, gently holding your son through the tendons and tissues. You give a watery smile at your screen before looking down at your belly, feeling a sense of relief bloom behind your sternum.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, little one. Your Dad is gonna take care of us.”

TAGLIST: @getitoutofmymindwrites @manuymesut @whirlwindrider29 @mostardentlypascal @lu62 @missladym1981 @heareball @sptbear @drewharrisonwriter @lizzie-cakes

[readychilledwine]

Hello. Hope u r feeling good. I was wondering if u could write something again. This one is particularly personal to me. Picture it. Reader is daughter of any one of the bat boys. If cass Or az then single dad. She has been bullied since the day she started school as a child because she has a problem when it comes to studying. As she grows it's her looks. The ic, notices her behavior is starnge. Like, snapping at small things, crying when they correct her or raise their voice. She has never told anyone because she doesn't want them to stress out and the bullies said that she was so worthless because she keeps running to her father for everything. Her dad finds out soon. U can decide the ending.

Oh my love 💜 all three of our boys got you.

Head Held High

Summary - After being born with Feyre's looks, but illyrian wings, Rhysand and Feyre's daughter faces challenges wherever she goes.

Warnings - bullying, signs of low self-worth, anger, inferred adhd or other learning issues, older brother coming in to do the older brother thing while protective dad does the dad thing

You had him wrapped around your finger the second you came into the world.

His beautiful baby girl, wide eyed and filled with curiosity and happiness.

You truly were a stunning little thing, but how couldn't you have been with parents like Rhysand and Feyre? He loved you even more for being the small version of your stunning mother. Her nose, her lips, her hair. The only piece of you that screamed you were his were those star flecked eyes.

Your childhood was filled with love and joy. With you constantly praised for your looks, for your smarts, or your imagination. Rhys and Feyre never thought anything of your wild mind. They loved it. They loved how sporadic you were, how one thing was never enough for you to stay focused on. They loved your random outlook on the world.

To Rhys, Feyre, and your significantly older brother Nyx, you were the world. They sheltered and loved you, thick and thin, protecting you from darkness and meaness at every turn.

It wasn't until you began lessons that you truly saw how unkind fae, especially those your own age could be.

You hated school and struggled to focus during lessons. You were busy, you told yourself in your little mind. Busy day dreaming of far away places, daring sword fights, a knight just like daddy or Uncle Az and Cass, mainly Uncle Az if you were honest with yourself, rescuing you from enemies.

Your grades reflected that. As did how your peers treated you.

"Silly y/n," one girl giggled when she thought you couldn't hear. "It's a good thing she's pretty, 'cause she's dumb."

"Her mommy couldn't read either. Maybe that's why."

In class the jabs were subtle enough that your teacher didn't notice, and when they did, nothing was done.

No one at home noticed either. No one noticed when you began to hide away more, when you stopped playing with your big brother after school. No one noticed when you weren't dreaming about being rescued anymore, but instead dreamed of running away.

Things did not get better when you were sent to Illyria, Uncle Cass and Aunt Nesta in tow, to begin training. You knew comments about your intelligence would be coming. You'd never expected comments about your looks, though.

"Imagine looking like your mom and trying to pass as an Illyrian."

"Her mom isn't even that pretty."

"Never said she was either."

You'd hide behind your wings constantly in public. You'd started eating alone. Stopped talking at home.

Cassian had tried asking what was wrong one night. His large hand running up and down your back as he spoke gently enough to you to shatter your aching heart a little more. "Just leave me alone!" You finally screamed at him. "I just want to be alone."

He wrote it off as homesickness, calling for Rhys and asking the High Lord to come visit you.

Rhys noticed it then.

He noticed the way you tucked behind your wings in shame. He noticed you eating alone. He noticed you never had a training partner.

He noticed your loveliness.

"Darling," a soft knock came at your door. "We need to talk." You curled further into your bed, your father refusing to enter or leave without your permission.

"Little love, please," his voice was pleading with you. "Let me in. Let me help you." You felt the gentle claws on your mind and blocked him out harder.

"Y/n, please. Don't shut me out." You'd never heard his voice break like this. The Crack that indicated he was about to cry. "I know what it's like to feel like you're the outsider here. I know what being this lonely feels like and how it eats away at you."

You heard something soft hit the door. "Babygirl, please. Let me come talk to you. Let me settle any feelings you're having. Let me help you. Please don't make me force myself in."

Shadows appeared in the corner, blue reflecting in them every so often. "I have her, Rhys. I'll come get you in a second." Your father yielded then. Yielded you to the arms of the Shadowsinger. "I've been watching for a little while." He admitted, "we've been worried for a few weeks."

He sat down on the bed next to you. "You stopped writing all of us. I know I violated your privacy and independence, but we all know how being out here can be. We all knew there was a risk of you being targeted the way we all were and the way Nyx was."

Azriel placed a hand on your back, rubbing small circles. "Your dad is the most worried. He did not want to send you here. He wants to bring you home."

You sniffled hard, finally lifting your body and shifting to sit next to him. "It's not any better there. I'm stupid in Velaris. I'm ugly here."

Azriel's jaw tightened. "Let me go get Rhys." Your uncle stood, walking to the doorway and leaving it open as he spoke softly down the hall.

Your dad was a mess when he entered. His hair was sticking different directions from how frequently he was running his hands through it. His face was tear stained. His shoulder slumped in defeat as he practically dragged his feet.

Azriel motioned for him to sit next to you, shutting the door so the three of you were alone and pulling a chair from across the room to sit in front of you. "Tell him what you just told me, little bat."

Your breath hitched as your hands began to shake. You could feel your eyes watering as you looked down to your unkept nails. "Taking me home won't make a difference."

Your dad pulled you close to him. "It would make all the difference, darling. We'd just send you back to regular-" Azriel shook his head at his brother, silencing him.

"Tell him the rest of what you said, y/n."

"I get made fun of in Velaris for being stupid, I get made fun of here for being ugly. It wouldn't make a difference."

Your father's world shattered then and there. Azriel stood, leaving the room to allow you to time alone now that the truth was out. Silence hung in the room. Interrupted every so often by your soft sniffles.

"How long," your father's voice broke again. "How long have you been getting picked on?"

You shrugged. "Since you started sending me to lessons."

He nodded, looking up. "I'm sorry I didn't notice, darling."

You didn't respond, only holding yourself tighter. He started. "I learned around your age, that holding my head high and not letting others see how much their cruelty hurt me tended to lead to it ending, but There is no merit in either of those statements"

He pulled you close to him, resting your head on his shoulder. "Are you easily distracted in school? Yes. Uncle Lucien always pushed us to teach you outdoors in a less formal environment with private help. You would have thrived in that setting. That is on me, y/n. I picked a public lesson setting so you could socialize." He paused. His jaw twitching. "You are not stupid in any sense, though, y/n." He motioned to the countless books stacked on your dresser. "Those are all educational texts or intense world building fantasies that you have taken the time to notate in a color system with separate journals filled with notes. That is not the action of someone who is stupid."

He tilted your face to him. "And you are not ugly. There is not a single court or location in this world where you do not meet or exceed their beauty standards. Anyone who says otherwise is either in denial of their attraction to you or blind. I never want to hear you say you are ugly ever again, darling."

A loud slam interrupted the heartfelt talk as your other brother entered the room followed by your cousins. "This is nice and all pops, really it is. Touching." Nyx walked to you, getting on his knees in front of you. "Their names, sis."

Rhys hid his smirk. "I never said your uncles and I weren't also going to do this, Nyx."

The heir rolled his eyes. "You can have their piece of shit fathers. I get the ones my age." Nyx grabbed your chin forcing you to look into his eyes. "Their names, y/n."

You gave them to him without hesitation. "Be nice," you said softly.

Nyx froze in the doorway. "You have mom's heart, y/n. I have dad's. You handle it with kindness and grace, I'm going to handle it with my fists and intimidation."

Your father pulled you close to him again. "Never change anything about you, little love." He stood moving in front of you and tilting your head up by your chin. "Just hold your head high, y/n. Hold your head high, walk away, and let dad and Nyx take care of the rest." He placed a kiss on your forehead. "Now, if you excuse me, I have a camp leader to beat the shit out of."

He paused at the doorway, turning to you. "I'll be right back. I promise. Maybe you could make us some hot chocolate and we can have a cuddle date like we used to?"

Your eyes lit up for the first time in years, making him smile and laugh. "There you are, darling. My beautiful girl."

[riddles-fiddles]

Octavinelle boys with a pregnant S/O

Synopsis: I'm dealing with terrible baby ferver so I need to get this out of my system. Headcanons to how the boys react to your pregnancy all thorough the months (part 2) Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Floyd Leech, Jade Leech Tags: SFW, fluff, domestic fluff Notes: AFAB gender neutral reader, cw pregnancy and birth

•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°••·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°••·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

⁀➷ Azul Ashengrotto — make sure to give him the good news while the man is safely sitting down, or else you'll see him go weak on his knees. Azul prides himself on his collected demeanor and carefully woven expressions - vital skills for his business-oriented persona - but then he is inevitably crumbling down, staring at the positive pregnancy test wide-eyed, struggling to find something clever to say. His mind is racing wild but no rational thoughts are able to fall from his lips, so all he can muster is a very low, shaky "I am… going to be a father?"

Give him some time to digest the news and you'll be met by a very gentle, tender hug from the octomer. Azul is both thrilled and terrified of this new chapter of your shared life; he longed to achieve the same kind of love his mother and step-father shared with each other, to be cared for and desired in such a selfless and devotional way, inspired by the way their love reflected upon his own upbringing. On the other hand, however, his insecuriities threatened to surface once again, doubts and ghosts from the past whispering wicked lies about his worth as a future parent. He doesn't want to fail on you and the child, as a partner or a father, and though he's equally worried about the emotional aspect of parenthood, he sticks to the importance of material goods - they're more on his comfort lane and he does it flawless to ensure your growing family can have everything of need.

(Please leash him while shopping for nursery furniture or else he'll make the baby's room a monochrome nightmare)

Azul showers you with gifts almost everyday: jewels, clothes, accessories… anything he knows you like or make any minimal comments about, being his way of showing how much he loves and cares for you, and as you progress through the stages, he takes more leaves from Mostro Lounge. He loves his work, but you are the lighthouse of his life, the one he cherishes and clings to on stormy or bright days, and the pregnancy only fueled his sense of loyalty and sincerity to you. His cafe actually comes in handy when the cravings start, and Azul isn't even an ounce ashamed to take advantage of the students working under his contracts to request them to make whatever you hunger for, though it was a surprise at first to discover about that particular characteristic of human pregnancy; he was amused nonetheless, but then he will be more careful when handing your requests. He's a very attentive partner, though it could be hard for him to express all the emotions that bubbles within his chest, sometimes too worried about being 'too emotional', scared to say something and make himself a complete fool. He kneads the stress away from your body with careful fingers and helps you out on regular tasks - shampoo your hair, put your shoes on, change clothes.

When the big day finally comes, Azul is already set and ready to go. Fret not, for the darling octo-mer has picked only the best, comfiest and quietest room for the delivery with only the best nurses on the hospital and has already set a very special menu for you to indulge in after all your hard work. But suddenly he is panicking, the danger of human birth finally sinking in as he watches the way you writhe and sob on the bed, but he can't do much but hold your hands tightly and hope for the best as the nurses help you around. When his baby is finally placed over his arms and Azul gazes upon the serene features of the tiny bean, all his terrors and doubts melt away, exhaling out a sigh of relieve and renewed joy - Azul realizes he's madly in love with you and the frail life that lays withing his grasp. He understands that there's no need for him to be perfect, either.

⁀➷ Floyd Leech — very excited from the idea of having a mini Floyd running around the house, a pocket-sized partner in crime, but to expect he would be an exceptional partner is, unfortunately, wrong. Floyd is very complex and his emotions are hard to keep controlled, and now that you are pregnant, he becomes somewhat more intense because of your own hormones and the anxiety of parenthood gripping on his neck. He does tries his best to get his moods in check, though - he doesn't want you to be stressing over him, knowing how dangerous it could be, so whenever he feels like his mood is about to change drastically, he walks away to take a breath. Things can turn into quite a ruckus if you end up experiencing those annoying changes at the same time though, as Floyd struggles to understand why you're snapping at him all of a sudden when he was just asking you something. Jade helps him understand that you're extremely hormonal and how it affects your humor and helps you keep his brother's own on check.

He's a lot more possessive and protective of you now, if not clingier. Floyd will be wrapping his arms around your figure any chance he gets, and when in public he'll always be intertwining your fingers together or holding you by the waist, getting annoyed every time someone comes asking to touch your bump - "I'm the only one who should be allowed to touch my Shrimpy's belly! Strangers have no bussiness being so close to you." Going to the doctor is always amusing because that's the moment Floyd looks the most concentrated than you can ever remember. Human pregnancy is something so new and weird for him, he's totally enthralled; what do you mean you don't lay eggs? Oh, you're just like a whale! How fun! Though he is entertained from all the information he's learning, Floyd is lowkey terrified of the birthing process (he's flabbergasted to know human babies can come out the size of a small watermelon), but he does his best to calm you down, and if you'd prefer to get a c-section, then he'll totally support you! During the preparations for the baby's room, Floyd will prefer to decorate it with ocean-themed stuff, having a blast with the assorted toys you two have bought and you're worried he might be more excited with them than your child. You know that one meme of the dad stealing the kid's tricycle? Yeah, that's him.

The delivering day comes, and Floyd is a whirlwind. He's more scared than you and it shows, no more jokes or smart remarks to try and hide his desperation, only panic, and you need to calm him down, even though he's not the one dealing with hellish contractions. Also, for the love of all Sevens, do not allow him to drive. Once you two get in the hospital, Floyd makes use of scary eel privilege to swiftly arrange a delivery room for you and suddenly almost all the nurse staff is mobilized to take care of you. Floyd can't bear the idea of leaving you alone not for even a minute, so despite the recommendations, he'll sit through hours by your side even if he's tense and stiff, holding your hand tightly. Bless the nurses who'll be helping you, because they'll have to deal with Floyd going through all the emotions known to man. Don't worry though, once he knows his shrimpy and little fry are safe and healthy, he'll turn back to the usual easy-going happy Floyd.

⁀➷ Jade Leech — Jade is surprised to receive the news. Similar to Azul, he does have a bit of knowledge about human's particularities and biology, but he wasn't expecting for you two to be compatible, especially since he's a much more 'feral' kind of merman. Nonetheless, he's happy with the prospect of growing a loving family with you... though by the progression of months, he grows the most worried. He's relieved to see the way you glow, how you seem healthy, but intrusive thoughts sometimes creep on the back of his mind. What if something happens? What if your body rejects the child because of his eel-merman genes? What if— but then you come to him squealing about how you felt the baby's first kick, and suddenly he's relaxing, his heart washed from any lingering fears. He pulls you closer and lays his head on your bump, humming quietly as he feels the baby slowly settling down.

Jade does his own research just to be sure he's doing everything right and what to expect from the significant changes you two are inevitably experiencing, insisting on working out a routine of exams and appointments, always so attentive to every little detail and medical advice. The bad thing is, he strictly follows them, which means you won't be able to snatch something unhealthy for all of your pregnancy; even if you're trying to tiptoe your way to the fridge, Jade somehow knows, he's right there to remind you about 'doctor's orders'. He's got the best of intentions, though he may look too strict. But don't fret! As soon as mama Leech gets word about your pregnancy she's coming to help! Jade actually listens to her tips, recognizing her very valuable experience on the matter and trusting mama knows best. At least you get to eat some cheat food here and there - Jade's shocked and extremely entertained to be taught that humans believe that a baby could be born looking like a certain kind of food if the mother doesn't eat whatever she's craving, and so he indulges you into whatever you ask him to cook. Similar to Floyd, Jade grows more possessive of you, especially when out in public. He dislikes the attention your bump attracts, cautious of ill-intentioned people, so when your belly has grown to it's full glory, Jade gives curious passerbys a piercing cold look while you're not aware, and then carries on to grocery shopping, whispering sweet praises to your ear like the entire mall isn't turning heels as fast as possible the moment they land their eyes on you both.

When the baby's due date comes, Jade is the ever collected and relying gentleman you need. Since he's such a good observer and has kept track of every little thing during your pregnancy - mood swings, body changes, smell and heat - he already has a suspicion you're about to go into labour, so he has prepared everything you might need even before you can shout about your water breaking. It's so endearing how he already looks like a dad - diligently guiding you through the hospital halls, big maternity bags hanging on his shoulders as he coos quietly about how everything is going to be ok, how you're going to be a great parent and how much he loves you. If you ask him to stay with you on the delivery room, he'll gladly let you squeeze his hand into oblivion and look unaffected, watching as you work for hours on end with a ressuring smile and the most sincere devotion on his eyes, totally enthralled by your resilience.

[comradekatara]

i cant stop thinking about oh toph ur like a son to me like sokka really would say that

he would!!! she’s his right hand arm man!!!! his silly rabbit!!!!!! (sorry zuko) they are sooo so cute and important together we should talk about it more

[lovebugism]

hiiii 😊 i LOVE your writing, especially shy!reader!! i heard you wanted more spooky/angsty requests, so...

maybe one with eddie where they're camping with the group around halloween and everyone is telling scary stories around the campfire, but reader gets really scared and doesn't wanna hear any more, but she can tell eddies having so much fun that she doesn't say anything. eventually eddie notices something's wrong but reader won't tell him what, then he figures it out and comforts her?

ty lovie! hope you like it! — eddie comforts you when your imagination runs too wild, maybe a little more than best friends are supposed to (shy!reader, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, 1.5k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You know you shouldn’t be as scared as you are, but you keep torturing yourself anyway.

Robin Buckley, as it turns out, has about the same storytelling abilities as Edgar Allan Poe. She spins a web of horror with nothing but a couple wretched words and a wild imagination. Lit up orange by the simmering campfire, you listened to her in wide-eyed horror — like a child just learning about the boogeyman.

She’s stomping out that fire now, laughing loud and pretty after telling Nancy some dirty joke, and acting like she didn’t just get done telling the gnarliest ghost story of all time. You’re frozen on the rickety bench that overlooks the pitch-black lake, too busy convincing yourself that there’s a figure in the treeline — a Jason Vorhees equivalent on his way to murder you in your sleep.

Eddie’s sitting beside you, though. The warmth of his presence puts you at ease, like a belly full of food or a warm bed. You nearly jump out of your skin when he rises from the picnic table.

“Me and Steve were gonna go smoke,” he tells you, pulling a smushed carton of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “You okay here?”

You blink at him for a moment. It takes you a second too long to hear him, having been so stuck in your own head. You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod and try your best to smile something convincing. It’s a grimace, at best.

Eddie sees right through you. You’re rarely so passive with him. He’d only asked ‘cause he doesn’t like to smoke around you much. He knows you don’t like it. Now he’s scared he might’ve offended you in some way.

“You sure?” he presses, bushy brows pinched in concern.

You nod again, much slower this time and far more dramatic.

Eddie smiles down at you, pink and lopsided. This quiet, sarcastic version of you is much more familiar. “Well, are you gonna speak, or are you gonna do the not-talking thing for the rest of the night?”

He flicks a strand of your hair. You squint. What not-talking thing? you’d argue if he didn’t know you so damn well. Instead, you just tell him, “I’m okay,” in the firmest tone your mousy voice can muster.

“Do you wanna come with?”

He cocks a thumb over his shoulder, where Steve’s brave figure ventures up the darkened trail to his dad’s lakehouse. You cower under the weight of his chocolate stare, wringing your clammy hands in your lap. 

“Is that okay?” you ask in response.

Eddie scoffs. “Of course, it’s okay! Want you everywhere I go.”

You try not to get all flustered about it. Friends aren’t supposed to burn up like a stove-eye when their best friend is nice to them. It’s impossible not to, though, when Eddie’s leather-clad arm wraps around your shoulders — to keep you close, maybe, or to keep you warm. 

Your stomach is in knots about it either way.

You lean further into his warmth. He smells like cologne and boy and a weekend on a lake. You wrap your arms around yourself when a crisp breeze prickles your skin. You clench your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering.

Eddie sees everything you hide from him and holds you tighter. “Told you to wear a jacket.”

“It was warmer earlier!” you retort without missing a beat.

“Well, that’s why you listen to me.”

“I didn’t have a jacket big enough to wear over my sweater!”

“I told you to borrow mine, you loon!”

“But then you would’ve been cold!”

The married couple arguing fills the darkened woods, illuminated only by a dim moon and some amber lanterns hung every couple yards. Something rustles in the pitch-black, and the bickering ceases. 

Your heart lurches into your throat. You gasp, almost cartoonishly so, and your sneakers scuff along the gravel when you freeze.

Eddie laughs it off like he always does. The warm, honeyed, boyish noise doesn’t comfort you like it usually does. “It’s okay,” he tries to assure you through his chuckling, squeezing your shoulder with a warm hand. “It’s probably just, like, a rabbit or something.”

You remain frozen and unswayed. “Sounded heavier than a rabbit…”

“What? You are, like, an expert on wildlife now?” Eddie teases, if only to make you smile. You do, but just barely. He holds you tighter and juts his chin back to look down at you, grinning wide to make up for the lack of yours. “You spend one weekend in a cabin, and suddenly you’re a know-it-all on nature?”

You start smiling wider despite yourself. The sparkly feeling Eddie swirls in your chest is much more powerful than the tiny, lingering fear in your tummy.

“I just know what footsteps sound like, dork.”

The rustling returns, louder now. Tree limbs crack when they’re broken beneath the weight of something definitely heavier than a rabbit. When two figures appear from the blackened forest, you stumble into Eddie on instinct. He presses you closer to him without thinking, pulling you backward from the lanky silhouettes across the trail.

One step closer, and the shadows have faces. Jonathan and Argyle stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the tall grass. They’re starry-eyed, gazes rimmed red. The latter lifts the hem of his t-shirt, forming a bowl of something you can’t see.

“Hey, brochachos!” Argyle greets, perhaps a little too loud for the late night.

Jonathan is the only halfway sober one of the two, so he notices the fright dancing in your features before his best friend can. He mumbles, much quieter in comparison to his brightly-dressed counterpart, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“The hell are you guys doing out here?” Eddie wonders with a partly forced laugh.

“Scavenging for mushrooms,” Argyle answers like it’s obvious. He brings down the bottom of his shirt and flashes the makeshift bowl of mushrooms he’s collecting there.

The brunette boy nods. Slow, dumbfounded, and a little impressed. “That is a… totally normal thing to be doing in the middle of the night… We’ll, uh— We’ll leave you to it, I guess.”

“I’ll make sure to save you some!” the Californian boy promises as the two of you head up the trail.

Eddie’s hold on you doesn’t waver. His leather arm is firm in its grip and its delegation to keep you close to his side. You’re halfway stumbling to keep up with his longer strides, but you don’t mind it. You’re just happy to be held. 

“You can breathe now, you know?” he teases. 

You manage a trembling laugh. You know you have nothing to worry about, but you’re still high-strung and worried without cause. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know— I got a little scared.” 

“Yeah. I can tell,” Eddie scoffs. “Feels like I’m hugging a rock right now.”

Your laugh is more genuine this time, but still a bit forced. Eddie can tell. You’ve been quiet all night, reserved and a little standoffish. You’ve always been a little timid in your way, just more than he’s used to now. 

“Was it those dumb ghost stories everyone was telling earlier? ‘Cause I said we shoulda just played Spin the Bottle instead.”

You lean further into him to nudge him with your shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m just a baby.”

“No, Robin is just the second coming of Stephen fucking King.”

“Yeah, that’s also probably true,” you concur with a shrug, feigning a sort of nonchalance despite your racing mind. “My imagination is just… a little crazy sometimes.”

“Trust me, I know,” Eddie sighs, then slows down so he can face you more. His features are softened beneath the amber glow — more so when he gazes at you with a honeyed fondness you’re not entirely sure two friends are supposed to have for each other. 

You’re cold when he unwraps his arm from around your shoulders — warm again when he holds your cheek in a calloused palm. You hope you’re not burning him with how hot your face has gone.

“I wanna know what’s going on in here,” he murmurs quietly, tapping a ringed finger to your temple.

“It’s a scary, scary place,” you joke back. It’s mostly true, but you figure it’s easier than saying that your brain is so often filled with thoughts of him.

“Well, I’ll protect you from whatever nasty horrors your mean ol’ brain conjures up,” Eddie promises, nose scrunched and dark eyes sparkling.

Your chest swells with a foreign warmth, so hot it burns. “Thanks, Eds,” you mumble, trying your hardest not to melt into a puddle at his feet. The two of you fall into stride once more.

“I’ll even let you sleep in my bed and put your cold feet on me if you want.” He offers it begrudgingly. Like it’s some kind of burden. He doesn’t mind it, though. He’d beg you for it if you wanted him to.

You scoff and roll your eyes. “How chivalrous.”

“You’ll have to put up with Harrington’s snoring, though.”

The two boys are sharing one room while the rest of you girls share the other. You pinch your brows and flash him a pointed look. “Eds, you snore.”

His face screws up in offense. “I do not!”

[vsenyatargaryen]

Nerves of Fire

a|n; I love the idea so much!😂 hope you like this @witch-of-letters

Daemon Targaryen x Platonic Daughter!Reader , Rhaenyra Targaryen x Platonic Daughter!Reader

warnings: fluff

Translations; Kepa ~ Father || Muña ~ Mother

There had been very few times in his life where Daemon Targaryen could remember feeling nervous. He had always been so self assured, and though he understood the many dangers of the world, he always thought ahead - always felt prepared for whatever might come his way. That side of his nature had only grown after Rhaenyra gave birth to their first child. A beautiful daughter. You.

At the age of 8, you had found yourself your very own dragon. One that neither he nor Rhaenyra expected.

Your parents could scarcely believe it as you described first meeting your dragon, named ‘Cannibal’ by the small folk of Dragonstone, on the island where you lived. You told them the tale of how you bonded with him, managing to calm him as he stood guarding over the remains of various carcasses. He was terrifying and magnificent all at once. You’d never felt such an array of excitement and fear, but you knew, in your heart - he was meant to be by your side. He was meant to be claimed by you.

The first sighting your parents had of you flying on Cannibal’s back around Dragonstone felt like something from a dream. The dragon was so calm, so content in your presence. The opposite to the usual ravenous dragon who terrified the local people, animals and dragons.

Despite being one of the largest dragons, he navigated the sky with such ease, his wings gliding through the wind. You were so small and fragile in comparison, but it was like you were born to be carried by him.

“Kepa! Muña! Will you come and meet him now?” You rushed into your parents' chambers, paying little attention to the ladies in waiting styling your mothers hair for the upcoming tourney, or the septa calling your name as she tried to catch up with you after running off from your lessons. Spending the day with your dragon sounded much more interesting.

You were quick to be at your fathers side as the septa caught up with you, panting for breath.

“I apologise, your grace, my prince,” she looked between your parents, wide eyed. “l tried to get her to stay at her lesson.”

“I am not a dog,” you commented.

Rhaenyra and Daemon shared a glance, your father unable to hide his smirk at your reply. You seemed to resemble your parents more every day, a fact he found such pride in.

“Thank you, septa,” your mother replied with a polite smile. “She can spend the rest of the lesson with her father.”

The septa bowed her head and left, closing the door behind her.

You turned to your mother with a furrowed brow, “When will you meet Cannibal, Muña?”

Rhaenyra leaned forward, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll come and join you once I’m finished here, sweet girl,” she told you, and you grinned in response before taking your fathers hand in yours, unable to hide your excitement.

“Come along, Kepa,” you tugged at him, “before I send you to the septa.”

“She wouldn’t want to deal with me,” Daemon laughed, letting you lead him out of the chambers and through the corridors.

Despite the nerves gradually growing inside him at the thought of coming face to face with the infamous wild dragon who feasted on his own kind for the first time, he knew couldn’t let you down.

After all, he would do anything for you. Even stand in front of the Cannibal himself.

~~

There were no men willing to stay alongside your dragon, not even while you visited him up in the hills. He didn’t like anyone near him. The dragon would only accept you.

The trek across the island to Cannibal’s lair wasn’t far and the dragon seemed to sense your presence before you even reached him. With a bellowing roar, he swooped in from the clouds and landed in front of you, his dark, narrowed eyes focusing on your father as he bristled.

“Lykirī, Cannibal! Bisa iksis ñuha kepa. Lykirī!” [Calm, Cannibal! This is my father. Calm! ] you shouted, hand raised out in front of his large head, his teeth bared.

The prince bowed his head and lowered himself to his knees out of respect, silently reminding himself to stay composed as he watched you reassure and coax the dragon to obey. ‘Lykirī, Daemon. Lykirī. Even though the blood of the dragon runs through your veins, you are really not to his taste.’

This was one time Daemon was definitely content to not be desirable.

The strong blow of air and stench of Cannibal’s breath slowly faded from Daemon’s presence as the dragon focused back on you, gently nuzzling against your outstretched hand.

Daemon looked up and slowly stood, amazed by the interaction between you and the dragon. The bond between dragon and rider was always something special, but no one ever imagined it would happen with the Cannibal. Daemon Targaryen never imagined his daughter would be the one to claim him.

“Sȳz, (good),” you praised, breaking into a giggle when the dragon dropped to the ground and rolled onto his side, playfully blowing a little air at you through his nose and knocking you backwards into the arms of your fathers, who couldn’t help but laugh along with you.

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Nothing but a babysitter - Steve Harrington Smut

MDNI! 18+ Content ahead. This is my like first ever time writing smut so... pls be nice. :)

Edit: Oh I am so so so going to hell. 

Word Count: 5.4k

You and Steve are getting on each other’s nerves. After dropping the kids off, Steve begins to drive you home and you make a snarky comment to him about how he’s “Nothing but a babysitter” and Mr. Harrington does not like that. 

Dom Steve x reader

Warnings: Uh smut, piv sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, edging, overstim, orgasm denial, creampie, squirting, mean steve, language, reader has a praise kink, i think that’s it? 

WRAP IT B4 YOU TAP IT!!!!!

You had been pissing Steve Harrington off all goddamn day. You had recently been “inducted” into the group due to being Robin’s other best friend and quickly became close with Nancy. Steve on the other hand? Couldn’t stand you. He couldn’t understand how Robin, a band-geek who works at Family Video could be friends with a feminine cheerleader, but Robin swore you were cool. And if Robin was friends with someone, Steve had to be too.

But now, after spending the entire day with you keeping the kids safe from the newest baddie in Hawkins, Vecna of course, with no Robin or Nancy to help, he was absolutely fed up. You had done nothing but make snarky comments to him and he was thiiiiiis close to making you shut up.

“Geez Harrington, how many kids do you have?” Dustin laughed from the backseat where he was seated next to Max and Lucas. 

“There are three more of us, actually. Steve is just such a great mom.” Dustin’s comment made the other two teens laugh and you stared wide-eyed at Steve. 

“Three more children? Wow, I hope you are getting child support.” Steve rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles beginning to turn white. 

“Shut up Henderson.” Steve’s handsome face was red which made you smirk. You enjoyed getting into his head, riling the perfect boy up. “I’m a pretty damn good babysitter.” Steve’s tone was harsh as he pulled into Dustin’s driveway. “All right, get out.” He put his hand on the back of your seat to face the kids in the back, something that made your heart flutter and your stomach tighten. 

You’d always thought Steve was hot. But you knew he liked Nancy and besides, it was fun to mess with him, even if he drove your fantasies wild. 

The three in the back got out of the car. 

“Thanks Steve!” Dustin said and the other two waved. Steve’s fingers flexed off of the wheel as to say “You’re welcome” as he watched them get into the house safely. You glanced at him. 

“You good, Stevie? You really are nothing but a babysitter. Don’t worry so much. Your kids didn’t leave for college...” You giggle and his knuckles turn whiter as he backs out of Dustin’s drive, his hand back on your seat to look out the window. You can’t help but glance at his arm. You can see his veins, his strong muscles gripping your headrest for dear life. Your stomach flutters and you blush. Why is this turning you on?

You are on the road again and Steve is fuming. He is going 50 in a 35. 

“Steve, slow down.” He laughs darkly. His foot presses the gas pedal harder. “Steve!!”

“Shut up.” He doesn’t look at you. You stare at his hands, veins popping out, his long fingers clenching the wheel so so hard. Fuck, you wished he was gripping something else. You were majorly turned on at this point, Steve’s normally goofball demeanor out the window. This new, glare-y and fuming Steve was sure to leave in imprint in your brain, sure to haunt your dreams. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is.” He slows down to make a turn down a street with larger houses. “I’ve been trying and trying to be nice to you but you just keep making these fucking comments about me.” He swerves into the driveway of a large house and parks. “Get out of the car.” He turned the ignition and the car stopped. You fumbled for the handle to open yours and heard Steve’s door slam. You got out of his car and followed him up the drive to the front door. He unlocked the door and let you go inside first and locked the door behind him.

You stood in the entryway of his house, while he stood behind you. You felt his presence as he walked towards you. 

“What did you say I was in the car? I just wanna make sure I heard you correctly.” He’s right behind you, his hot breath on your neck. He moves the stray hair that has fallen out of your ponytail off of your neck, his lips lightly touching you. Your whole body tingles. You can’t believe he’s touching you like this. “Y/N. What the fuck did you say to me? Don’t make me ask again.” His lips brush below your ear and you quite literally shiver. His hands skim up your bare arms, his fingertips touching you ever-so-slightly.

“I said you-“ you can barely think. “I said you were n-nothing but a ba-babysitter.” He places a small kiss right below your jaw. You sigh, melting into him.

“We both know that’s not true, right?” His hands travel down your body, his touch feather-light. Thank God for him being behind you or else you are sure your knees would have given out. “Answer me sweetheart...” Steve’s breath is back on your neck, and the heat rushes right down to your core. 

“No. No it’s not.” Your voice is barely audible. You don’t think you have ever been so turned on by such simple touches. 

Steve turns you around and grabs your jaw, forcing your chin up. You meet his eyes and what greets you are the eyes of a positively feral man. His usually kind eyes are dark with fury and lust, a combo that made you feel things you definitely shouldn’t be feeling for Steve Harrington. 

“Go upstairs.” His slight glare both terrifies you and turns you on even more. You take a deep breath and walk up the stairs, Steve trailing behind you. “First door on your left.” You do as you are told and open the door to Steve’s bedroom. It’s clean, which surprises you a bit. His large bed looks nice and soft. You glance around the room, jumping when Steve’s hands wrap around you. “Turn around.” 

You do.

His hand travels up your arm to your neck, his long fingers wrapping around your throat. Your breathing hitches and Steve smirks. 

“Don’t get all shy on me darling. What happened to the little bitch from the car? You had so much to say then.” You blush. What you had said in the car made him react like this?? “If you act like a brat, you’ll be treated like one.” His words make your cheeks flush even redder. It made your core swell and you were sure your underwear was soaked through at this point and you’re pretty sure Steve would see it dripping down your thighs sooner rather than later. You’d never been so turned on before. Steve met your eyes, his devilish smile making your thighs clench. He leans forward, dropping his head to your neck, breathing in your scent, before finally kissing your throat. You let out a sigh, dropping your head back whilst his grip on you tightens. His free hand travels down your front, reaching the top of your skirt. 

“You gonna be a good girl and let me touch you?” Your breathing quickens. His fingers dip into the waist of your skirt. 

“God yes. Please Steve.” You grip his arms while he sucks your neck, right below your jaw.

He grins and glances down, his hand releasing your throat and wrapping around your waist to unzip your skirt. You push your head into his chest as it falls, embarrassed for him to see your body’s reaction to his words. His fingers ghost over the hemline of your lacy pink underwear, making you shudder. You stare in disbelief as Steve moves his hands to rest on your waist, dropping to his knees in front of you. You blush so hard at the fact that he is blatantly staring at your arousal. His famous smirk returns as he looks up at you. Your hands are over your face, too embarrassed to make eye contact. 

“Look at me.” He commands as he hooks his fingers into your soaked underwear. You force yourself to meet his eyes as he grips the sides of your panties. “Grab onto my hair, sweetheart.” Your hands thread into his perfect hair, so soft even Franchesca Stephens, the leader of the cheer squad would be jealous. Steve smirks before ripping your lace garment off of you, the torn fabric searing your thighs. 

“Ow! Stev- oh shit. Fuck.” Steve is everywhere all at once. His head is between your thighs, rough hands and fingertips soothing the smarted areas. His kisses are hot and rough on your inner thighs, making you grip his hair. He groans, sending vibrations through your body. 

“Baby, I’ve barely touched you and you’re soaked.” His words make you more red, if possible. 

Steve Harrington on his knees between your legs getting ready to devour you whole was everything and more you needed in life. 

“Lie on the bed for me pretty girl.” He watches you do as your told, lust clouding his eyes. “Such a good girl for me.” Your hips roll into the air as he praises you. His strong hands roughly push your thighs apart, grinning at you with the devil in his eyes. “If you come, I will fuck you so hard you’ll beg me to stop. But I won’t because I know you want this. Or else you wouldn’t have pushed me till I lost it, right? This is what you want, right?” You are too flustered to respond. He blows air right on your throbbing core. The groan that leaves your mouth is inhumane. 

“Do you understand?” You nod frantically, desperate for his mouth, his fingers, anything. Steve seems to read your mind and just like that, his mouth is on you. Your hips buck off of the bed and he disconnects his mouth from your body, glaring at you from in between your open legs. His forearm clamps down on your hips, forcing you back down. “Don’t fucking move. If you do, I’ll stop touching you and just leave you here, to finger-fuck yourself to an orgasm you’ll never reach because you’ll be thinking about my tongue on your pretty pussy and how you can’t make yourself feel the way I’m making you feel. So stay. Fucking. Still.” Before you can even breathe, let alone reply, Steve’s mouth is on you again. Your body is shaking from the pleasure he his giving you, from the fact that Steve Fucking Harrington is eating you out. You can barely think. His mouths clamps over your clit, sucking hard. 

You gasp. 

“Oh fuck. FUCK Steve.” Your hands tangle in his hair, making him moan into your dripping heat. 

“Do that again.” You hear him mumble. He continues to devour you. 

“What?” You aren’t thinking correctly, the pleasure he’s giving you going straight to your head. 

He bites your clit which makes you moan his name so loud you’re sure his neighbors will wake up. 

“Do that again.” It’s more clear this time. He dips his tongue inside of you, and to keep yourself from being left alone to fend for yourself, you grab at his hair, pulling so hard Steve has to bury himself into your cunt to contain the noises coming from his throat. His hand finds its way to your core, pinching your puffy clit between his fingers. Your hand clamps over your mouth to keep quiet. Steve suddenly stops, earning a groan from you. His hand that was previously holding you down grabs yours and places it on his head. 

“Let me hear you.” Your wide eyes meet his, your arousal evident on his beautiful mouth. He is back on you in a second, sucking and sucking at your clit, fingers dipping into you. A moan rips through your throat and to Steve it is the sexiest sound he’s ever heard come out of a woman. He groans into you, something you’ve grown to love. “Fuck. Fuck. Such a good girl. for me.” His index finger finally slips into you, so easily since you’ve been wet since he placed his hand behind your head in the car. 

“Steeeeve.” You manage out. He’s making you feel so so good. So much better than you could make yourself feel. He adds a second finger, moving in and out of you so, so slowly. “Steve - faster, please, please.” 

“Honey, I’m the one in charge here. I’ll decide when I go faster or harder.” He removes his mouth, traveling up your body, the hand that was previously holding your hips to the bed slides up your stomach, rubbing your soft skin. He’s right above you now, licking the rest of you off of his mouth. Your breathing is scattered as his fingers slide in and out of your dripping cunt. His fingers increase their speed as he slides back down your body. Steve adds another finger, going deeper each time they slide into you. His mouth latches onto your clit again, making you groan. You feel your orgasm coming but his earlier words flash into your mind. 

“Steve- Steve please. Steve I’m going to-” 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” his movements slow and his fingers still, remaining inside you, your inner walls clenching around him. He licks slowly at your clit. Steve had always wanted to edge a girl but he never had the chance. His tongue meets your body again which causes you to groan and clench around him once again. He stops, grins and looks up at you. Your eyes are squeezed shut, one hand still tangled in his hair while the other is fisting his dark blue bed sheets. 

“Steve...” You breathe out, your chest heaving. Suddenly, he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting a spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “Oh my fuck- Steve.” He looks at you while he lowers his head back between your legs, licking a long stripe up your cunt, collecting the cum leaking out of you. He can’t get enough of your taste. His tongue swirls around your clit once again, your orgasm racing back, the pleasure too much. You come so hard, you’re sure you get your arousal all over Steve’s face. Fuck. You weren’t supposed to do that. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He is going to ruin you. You shut your eyes tight, trying to calm yourself. Steve had just rocked your fucking world. Your chest heaving, your body shaking. Steve’s look could kill. 

His voice is by your ear, sending chills straight to your still-dripping pussy. “What did I say?” You don’t respond. His fingers dip into you once again, making you gasp. “What did I fucking say?” His legs were on either side of yours, his jeans rubbing your skin. You could feel his hard-on. Fuck. Was Steve Harrington really about to fuck you senseless? God, you hoped so. “Y/N. What the fuck did I tell you I was going to do to you if you came?” You opened your eyes to find him right above you, his eyes dark. His breathing was staggered, breath fanning your face. “C’mon baby, I wanna hear you say what I’m about to do to you.” Your face flushed. 

You tried to focus on your words and not on his fingers pushing in and out of you. 

“You... You said you’d fuc-k...” His fingers curl to that spot again, “me so hard that I’d beg you to stop.” You breathe heavily, looking into his eyes. His thumb presses down onto your clit. 

“That’s exactly what you want, isn’t princess?” The new name has you clenching around him again, making his grin widen. He presses harder. “Answer me darling. Be a good girl for me.” Steve has caught on to your desires. He’s found out your secret. “You like that, don’t you, pretty girl? You like it when I praise you.” His fingers increase with speed, plunging deeper and deeper inside of you. 

All you can do is nod. He laughs and kisses your throat. 

“Just ask me and I’ll give you what you want.” He leans back, stilling his fingers again, but keeps the intoxicating pressure on your clit. “Y/N.” Harder. You moan, flexing your hips off of the bed. “I’m waiting.” You force yourself to look at him. He looks beautiful. His perfect hair messy, his lips swollen and pink, his mouth wet, cheeks flushed, heavy breathing, he’d never looked better. 

“Steve. P-please fuck me...” You breathe. “Please fuck me until I beg you to stop.” He grins. 

“Anything for you, princess.” 

And for the very first time, Steve kisses you. Your hands grab for his hair, pulling him closer. He moans into your mouth. 

“I’ve been holding back all day. You’re lucky I’m playing nice.” He growls into you before reclaiming your mouth with his. His hands return to your legs, wrapping them around his torso. They travel up your body, unbuttoning your plaid blouse from the bottom up. His kisses travel to your neck as he pushes the shirt off of your shoulders. Steve glances down your body, letting out a low growl that turns you on impossibly more. His fingertips gently trace the lacey edge of your pink bra. Your chest is heaving. Steve glances at you, the smirk returning before angling his head down to kiss the base of your throat, your collar bone, your shoulder, and...

“Steve...” He laughs. “Feels s’good.” His ego grows and he grins into your skin. He reaches behind you to unhook your bra and slides it down your arms, his eyes taking you in. You can’t help but blush, seeing him looking at your naked body while he is still fully clothed. He leans you forward, setting you back down on the bed. 

Steve leans forward, a different expression on his face.

“If I...” He wets his lips. You can see he is trying hard not to lose control. “If I hurt you or if I’m doing something you don’t like, stop me.” His eyes are trained on yours. His expression is dead serious. Your lips part and you nod. “I’m serious, Y/N. I don’t want to-” You can’t take it anymore. Steve had promised that he was going to fuck you hard and if he didn’t uphold, you were going to be pretty pissed. 

“Steve just fuck me. Please.” Your eyes are pleading with his. “Please.” You say again. “You’re in control, you always are.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. A dirty thought pops into your head. “If you don’t I’ll just go find Jason and-” His hand is on your mouth, his glare piercing through you. 

“What the fuck?” You can’t help the smirk that crosses your lips. And Steve can’t help but notice it. “Oh, you think it’s funny, do you?” His head dips down, his lips brushing yours. “I don’t think Jason could fuck you half as hard as I could.” His face is unreadable but you know for a fact that he is turned on - the evidence straining through his jeans. “Do you think Jason could do this?” His thumb brushes over your clit, making you gasp. “Or this?” His fingers plunge into your heat, making you groan. You are oh so overstimulated but Steve shows no signs of mercy. Your hands grasp his arm, desperate to slow his harsh movements but he pins them above your head with his free hand. You can see his veins again, sending another wave straight to your wet core. “Could he make you as wet as you are right now?” He looks down to where his fingers are plunging in and out of you at a feral pace. “Answer me.” Your brain is melting as you feel his thumb return to your clit, rubbing it in small circles, his fingers thrusting into you faster and faster. You scream his name as you come around his fingers. “Could he make you cum as hard as I just did?” His gaze is on your worn-out form. He leans forward to catch your right breast in his mouth, biting the peak. 

Your hands fly to his hair, breaking through his strong hold. 

“Fuck, Steve. N-No. He couldn’t.” You look at him and the sight before you is unholy. Steve’s fingers are covered in your slick and he puts them right into his mouth, sucking every inch of you off of him. You are sure you could come from the sight alone. 

Steve realizes that something is very wrong about this scenario - he is still fully clothed. He sits up, letting you catch your breath and pulls his shirt off over his head. He too is out of breath. You make eye contact and you see his self/restraint snap. He surges forward, attacking your mouth. His mouth is feverish on yours.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N.” He rests his forehead on yours. “Look what you’re doing to me.” You look down, his bulge very visible through his jeans. You look into his eyes, a slight blush across your cheeks.

“Then let me fix it.” For a split second, Steve is shocked at your words. 

“Y/N I-” Your hand is unbuttoning his jeans, shutting him up. His eyes are wide, his pupils blown. His brown eyes almost blackened by his pupils. His breathing is labored. 

Your hand slips into the waistband of his Calvin Kleins and his lower body rolls into yours, eliciting a moan out of both of you. His head drops to your neck, kissing you. You debate on letting your hand go further but Steve’s husky voice interrupts your thoughts. 

“Fix it.” His mouth on your neck makes you shiver. “You caused this. So fix it.” His tone is harsh. His head moves away from your neck and suddenly he’s right above you. “Fucking fix it.” Your timid hand reaches further into his underwear, grazing him. Steve lets out a guttural moan as you touch him. “Fuck baby, that’s so so good.” You wrap your hand around him, not applying pressure, and Steve hisses. “Fuck. Stop fucking teasing me.” His hand grabs yours, tugging it further into his pants. Steve’s dominant demeanor is crumbling at the touch of your hand. 

You smirk, and slowly slide a finger from the base to the tip of his length. Steve shudders above you and then gasps as you take him in your hand and squeeze. 

“Steve...” He looks into your eyes, a new fire lit inside them. “Don’t make me do all the work...” You lean forward, planting a kiss at the base of his throat and whisper, “I want you...” Your comment has his head spinning. He’s running the show and he needs to take back control. 

“You asked for it.” Steve is off of you in a flash, tugging off his Levis and Calvins, leaving you panting on his bed. You don’t dare to look at him, you are far to nervous about the events to come. 

Steve laughs. “Darling don’t get shy on me. You want this, remember?” He climbs back on top of you and you feel him. All of him. 

“See what you do to me?” You blush, his praise going to your head. “It’s alright princess, you can look.” 

You wonder how he can say such filthy things in such a sweet tone, but Steve Harrington has a way with words. 

You lower your eyes down his body until you get to-

“Steve...” Your heart rate quickens. “It’s so... big.” He laughs before kissing you. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make it fit.” He lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing into you, his mouth covering yours and swallowing all of your pretty noises. 

You pull away, looking down to see that Steve isn’t even halfway inside of you. He grins at you before slamming himself in the rest of the way, a scream ripping through your throat. 

Your walls stretch deliciously around him and he’s already so deep. Your vision is spotty and Steve is occupying your thoughts. He’s everywhere all at once. He lets you settle for a moment before taking your hands in one of his and bringing them above your head once again. The feral look in his eyes is back and you can tell he is enjoying ruining you.

He pulls out of you agonizingly slow, which makes you whimper, desperate for more. 

“Ste-Steve.” You sputter. “More, more.” He pulls back just enough to where his tip is the only thing inside of you. He slams back in, much harder than the first time and you moan his name. He shuts you up by shoving his tongue in your mouth, kissing you with such a force you are sure your lips will be bruised tomorrow. His free hand is around your throat, giving you a warning squeeze.

“Tell me what to do one more time. I dare you.” His hand grips your throat just a bit harder, making you gasp for air. He slides out again and just looks at you. A panting, whimpering, beautiful mess beneath him. And he wasn’t even finished yet. 

Steve barely gives youq time to even think of a response before he’s ramming into you, over and over again. The hand on your throat makes its way down your body, his thumb making the tiniest circles on your clit. The sheer force of him plunging inside of you makes his headboard hit the wall. 

“Princess, you’re so wet I’m practically slipping out of you.” You’re leaking out around him. “Is that all for me?” His finger stops its ministrations on your clit to gather some of your wetness. “Is this all for me?” You are moaning over and over beneath him and can do nothing but nod as he slips his fingers past your lips. Steve doesn’t even has to ask before you are sucking his fingers clean. “Oh fuck baby, so good for me.” He kisses you, tasting you once again which makes him want more. His fingers are back between your legs, collecting more of you on his fingers, putting them into his own mouth. 

You can’t help but stare. This man, Steve Harrington, a man who you thought hated your guts, fucking you into oblivion while sucking you off of his fingers? It was a sight to behold. 

His thumb was back on your clit in an instant, pressing down hard enough to make you scream his name fore the 10th time that night. He could feel you clenching around him. He could tell you were close. So he fucked you right through your orgasm. Your hands were desperate to hold something, pull his hair, but Steve’s grip on your wrists wouldn’t allow that. You came harder than the first time and you thought he would slow down. 

He didn’t. He looked at your disheveled form below him and smiled, letting your hands go as he continued to fuck you through your high. He had done this. He had made you feel this way. But he wasn’t finished. He hadn’t come. Yet. He moved your legs to the outside of his so he could push them open further, allowing him to go deeper inside of you. With the new angle, Steve could hit the spongy spot inside of you and more. Your hands flew to his hair, pulling hard, making him moan. Suddenly, he stopped. 

“Look down darling.” You could barely function but not wanting to piss him off further, you did as you were told. His hand was placed on your stomach, right below a bulge. “Baby I’m so far inside you, see?” It’s true. His dick is in your tummy. “I told you I’d make it fit, didn’t I?” He grins at you and without warning, slams back into you, his hands pressing your thighs down to keep them open. Your abused little cunt pulsating around him couldn’t take much more and your third but not final orgasm was approaching.

“Steve...” You manage out. “Steve, I’m cumming, cumming.” Your words are almost inaudible through your breathy tone. You wonder how Steve isn’t tired.

Then you realize, he hasn’t come. His brutal force is earth-shattering and you come again. Steve lets out a groan. His is rapidly approaching his. His hands leave your inner thighs and land on the bed on either side of you, the bed frame groaning against the force. You clench around him so hard, pulling him towards the finish line. His movements slow. As Steve tries to regain a normal breathing pattern, all you can do is stare at him. Not only had he given you the best orgasm ever, but also the best sex you’d ever had. Your hands brush through his hair. 

Steve sits up abruptly and you can see a new idea forming in his mind, the devilish smirk returning to his pretty face. 

“Ya’ think you got one more in you, pretty girl?” Your eyes widen. Another? He had just given you three mind-blowing orgasms and wants you to cum again? 

He’s lowering yourself between your legs again. He’s going to eat you out, again. Taste the two of you mixed together. You can’t think. His hands rest on your inner thighs, so close to your core, and you clench around nothing at all. Tears form in your eyes. His fingers brush over your heat, the mixture of the two of you leaking out. Two of his fingers gather as much as he can and pushes it back inside you. The sudden contact makes you cry out. Steve chuckles. 

“Yeah, you got another in you.” He places a kiss right above your clit, your hips rocking up, desperate for friction. He reaches up to grasp one of your hands as he lowers himself down to where you really need him. You get the idea and thread your fingers through his hair, latching on for dear life. Steve’s tongue dives straight into you, licking up all the extra cum. Your thighs clamp around his head as you moan. His palms flatten on your inner thighs, forcing them back down. Your hips roll into his face. He takes in a deep breath, reveling in your scent before diving back in. He devours you like a man starved, tongue in and out, licking up everything leaking out of you. You had heard rumors that Steve gave good head, but God fuck! Someone get this man a trophy because Harrington was a legend. His nose brushes against your overstimulated clit and you can’t help the animalistic sounds coming out of you. You tug harder at his hair which makes him dig his fingers into the sides of your thighs. You were definately going to have handprint bruises on your thighs tomorrow. His lips attach to your clit, sucking harder than before, fingers immediately slipping inside you. 

You can feel it, the orgasm, and you are sure Steve knows it’s coming. His hands push harder against your thighs, fingers thrust deeper, and his mouth biting, sucking, anything to get you to the end. Your vision goes white as your body spasms. It’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Steve’s fingers haven’t stopped. 

“Holy shit baby. You’re squirting.” You blush hard and try to close your legs in embarrassment. “No, keep them open pretty girl.” His mouth is on you again, collecting you in his mouth. You can’t believe this. You are so completely fucked-out and he is still going to town, intent on sucking every last drop out. He just can’t get enough. 

Eventually, Steve stops, your breathing turns normal, and your heart rate decreases to a normal pace. 

“That’s what happens when you piss me off, princess.” He kisses your neck before flopping down on the bed beside you. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into him. His breath fans your neck and you can’t help but smile. 

Steve’s soft voice breaks the silence. “Are you ok? Did I hurt you?” You turn your body to face his, kissing him. 

“Steve, I’m fine. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. I may not be able to walk tomorrow but I’d say considering the circumstances, I couldn’t care less. 

A beautiful smile crosses his face. You kiss him again. 

He pulls you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head. You trace the freckles on his arms, taking in what just happened. 

“I can’t believe you squirted.” His obscene comment breaks the silence.

“STEVE!” 

HOLY FUCK THAT WAS A LOT. 

There may be typos ahhhh. 

Uhhhh I am so so sorry and I am so so going to hell.  

[thebearer]

An adult makes a sly comment about Teddy when the family is walking in public (maybe a mall) and Carmen gets so heated he was ready to throw hands but the reader has to stop him.

"We've gotta go get you some new tap shoes, and then Mama needs to go to the makeup store-"

"-Ooh! I wanna go too!" Teddy squealed, hand squeezing yours. "Can I go in with you?"

"If you're being good." You give her a half-hearted stern glare. "If you're being wild and going to touch everything, you have to stay with Daddy."

"I'll be good." Teddy nodded, hands swinging with yours and Carmen's, walking between the two of you.

Carmen grinned, letting her swing and twirl around his hand, even in the aisles of the dance supply store. "Was it Capezio or the Bloch ones..?" You muttered, looking between the two. "Let me just check the text again. Can you hold these?" You asked Carmen, handing him the two boxes.

Teddy still twirled, wide and long down the aisles, Carmen's eyes trained on her. Another dad, maybe a grandfather by how old he was, and his child, around Teddy's age, walked down the aisle.

"Teddy, c'mere." Carmen nodded, the four year old pirouetting down to him. "Stay here, alright?"

"Here, don't move." The other man said to his kid, nodding down for the child to sit on the small bench. "Stay right there, ok? Don't be running around like that kid." He nodded towards Teddy.

You tensed, eyes moving from Teddy- who was completely unbothered- to Carmen. His eyes flashing, grip tightening on the boxes. Carmen wasn't violent, not by nature. Hot headed, protective? Sure, but not violent.

Until someone threatened his family. It had happened once, a guy on the L shoving you when you were pregnant. Carmen had shoved him back, eyes wild and screaming at the guy until he retreated in fear. It was rare, very rare, but Carmen would protect his family.

"The fuck did you just say?" Carmen spat, setting the boxes down gently, brows furrowed already stalking towards the guy.

"Carmen," You hissed, grabbing at his arm, one hand on Teddy.

"No, what did he say? You talkin' about my kid, jagoff?" Carmen challenged.

"Yeah, your kid that you're too lazy to watch. Lettin' her run up and down these aisles while I'm trying to shop." The old man scoffed, glaring at Teddy.

"She wasn't in your way, and even if she was, you don't talk about my kid, alright? I'll knock your fuckin' teeth in, you piece of-" Carmen sneered, teeth grit, fists balled with rage.

"Carmen," You snapped, your tone teetering on the edge of a gasp and a growl. It made Carmen turn, seeing Teddy in your arms, grabbing at your jacket, wide eyed- scared. It made Carmen's stomach turn.

Carmen turned to the other man, tongue running across his teeth menacingly. "You better watch your fuckin' mouth, alright? Talk about my kid or any kid again, and I'll beat your fuckin' skull in." Carmen spat, turning and grabbing Teddy's coat and your hand.

"What is the matter with you?" You hiss, holding Teddy close to your chest, trying to quiet her little cries. She was scared, of course she was.

Carmen's eyes cut down to her, softening at the watery eyed look she gave him. "You heard him." Carmen snapped, nerves still grated and furious. He took a deep breath, hand running down his face to calm himself.

"Look, he's not talkin' about my kid, alright? She wasn't doin' anything- Teddy, you weren't doing anything." Carmen cooed, running a hand down her soft curls. "That guy was just an ass-"

"-Carmen-"

"-a poop head." Carmen muttered. "You don't let anyone talk mean to you like that, ok? You tell Daddy if they do."

Teddy was nodded slowly, a little confused, but less concerned now that she knew she wasn't in trouble.

"I think the store across town will have better stuff anyways." You try to change the subject, at least in front of Teddy for now. "And there's a Target. Daddy should take us there, shouldn't he?" You ask, brow raised in challenge more so than question when you looked at Carmen.

Carmen agreed, of course he did. He didn't complain when you ordered Teddy a cake pop, or when you'd slip another useless decoration in the basket. He kept his hand on you the whole time, possessive- grounding. You knew he needed to feel you, calm himself that way, so you let him.

[sapphire-writes]

Winter Rose

pairing: Aemond x Stark!Reader

summary: Raised among wolves, and raised among dragons; throughout time Targaryens and Starks seem to find their way to each other.

warnings: mentions of death

word count: 2.3k

note: this is mostly fluff! enjoy my loves 💙

You had been a small child when your father died; when your elder brother Cregan was named Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North. Though he was just a boy of three and ten at the time. You remembered the funeral of your father, the way Cregan held your small hand in his own.

“You need to be brave, sister,” Cregan had whispered in your ear. 

Your eyes were wide as saucers, gazing upon the still body of your father. You expected his chest to rise and fall, as though he were simply in a deep sleep. He remained motionless. You had only seen one other corpse in your life, that of your mother.

The image of her flashes in your mind. Beautiful, wild, and gone. Petals in the wind. Your father would lay beside her for eternity in the crypts of Winterfell. The thought comforted you, your parents in the earth below you, and your brother. Simply sleeping beneath the mighty fortress of Winterfell.

Cregan squeezes your hand. 

Your uncle, Bennard Stark, was to rule as regent until Cregan came of age. A feat that does not bode well when Cregan reaches adulthood. But Bennard succeeds nonetheless. 

You grow alongside your brother, both of you fierce, both of you spitting images of the First Men. Both are haunted by the ghosts of wolves before you. You and Cregan are one and the same until you come into your maidenhood.

That is when things seem to change between you, suddenly you are thrust into the role of a soon-to-be mother, though still unwed. Lords vie for your hand, present themselves to your brother for the chance to bed, and breed you like a prize mare. You are having none of that. 

“Lord Umber is a fine choice!” Cregan yells, running after you as you flee from the great hall.

“You heathen!” you snap at your brother.

You stop, causing Cregan to nearly run into you, glaring at your brother. 

“You’d ship me off to Last Hearth, is that it?” you accuse, “who’d do your booking then hmm?”

Cregan flushes with embarrassment. 

“I’d make do without you,” he says.

“You’re shit at bookkeeping,” you accuse. 

“You’re a lady, it’s your duty-”

“My duty!” you scoff, “How very convenient to you!”

Cregan frowns, visibly frustrated by your angry disposition.

“You like Lord Umber.”

You look at him incredulously. 

“He is my friend, Cregan, it does not mean I wish to bed him.”

“Sister, you must listen!”

But you are off already, across the yard, angry tears wet on your face. They do not last long as you hastily wipe them, crystalized in the cold air they fly like diamonds to the gravel below. 

The news comes to Winterfell when House Stark is invited to the capital to represent the North at King Viserys nameday. Evidently, all the great houses are to feast in the capital, with tourneys and celebrations to last for several days. 

“Allow me to represent our house, and when I return I shall not fuss about marrying Lord Umber,” you tell him, bile rising in your throat as you panic at the thought.

Cregan senses your hesitation. Brothers are like that, sensing your lies. 

“You shall?” he asks.

You roll your eyes. 

“I shall.”

The journey to King’s Landing is long and tiresome, taking the better part of a month. Layers of clothing are shed the closer you get to the capital, as the air around you warms, snow melts and flowers bloom. It is as though you are blooming as well, pushing through the soil and towards the sun.

You are presented at court, as unwed ladies often are, to the king and the royal family. Though King Viserys is not in attendance, represented by the Hand instead. 

The first of the festivities you attend is a tourney. 

“You do not wish to participate, my prince?” you ask, out of courtesy.

“I do not care for tourneys, my lady,” the one-eyed prince tells you, “I believe them to be a foolish waste of time.”

You smile slightly at his honesty.

“They are said to prepare men for the battlefield,” you tell him, “though I do not know whose enemy would wait for his opponent to pick up his sword.”

Aemond glances at you as you take a sip from your cup. He glances at the tourney field, understanding your jest as he observes two knights waiting to fight. A flicker of a smile appears on his chiseled face.

“Most knights simply wish for the attention of those of court,” Aemonn tells you, “Fame and glory; to be a page in a song.”

“To have the favor of a pretty girl,” you agree.

Aemond looks at you once more. A pretty girl. You meet his eye, smiling. Aemond looks away quickly, clearing his throat.

“Have any of these knights won your favor, my lady?” Aemond asks.

You shake your head.

“No, I am afraid not,” you tell him, “I prefer a real warrior to a pretender.”

Aemond watches as you excuse yourself and walk away, a curious expression on his face. 

The feast later that evening is boisterous and full of merriment and delight. It makes you miss home, an ache appears in your chest that you cannot shake. No matter how many lords you dance with, how many ladies you chat with. Though you wished for an escape, you so miss the walls of Winterfell. Cregan’s hand in yours. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps the North is where you belong. Winterfell, Last Hearth. Did it matter which castle, truly?

“My lady,” the voice of Prince Aemond pulls you gently from your thoughts.

He is kind, you can tell. Though his exterior is cold, reptilian almost. Like the snakes that slither in the greenhouses of Winterfell, searching for warmth and life in the frozen ground. Simply trying to survive. Aemond bows to you, offering his hand, violet eye scanning your face. 

You want to ask him about it. But you bite his tongue. You know all too well how people enjoy poking the bruises of others, teasing out the memories of pain a person holds inside them simply for their own selfish curiosity. You shall not be like them.

You take his hand and allow him to lead you to the dance floor. You cling to the young prince for the rest of the evening, finding calm in his cool presence. It is nice, standing beside him feeling as though there is no silence you need to fill. Feeling as though he simply enjoys that you are there. 

When you return to your chambers, a blue winter rose rests its petals on your pillow. You pick up the flower, inspecting it carefully between your fingers, the cerulean petals catching the moonlight. A reminder of home.

The remainder of your visit to the capital is spent on Prince Aemond’s arm. In the library, on walks through the gardens. He even entertains your passion for hawking, joining you as you travel into the Kingswood. It is nice to have a friend among so many dragons. Someone to talk to, someone who enjoys your company. 

As the days pass, you have collected a bouquet of winter roses; they sit beside your bed in a glass vase, the first flower only just beginning to lose its petals. They scatter across your chambers like freshly fallen snow. 

A raven arrives, confirming your brother’s visit to the capital. Cregan is often impatient and comes to the conclusion that he must join his sweet sister in the capital, bringing Lord Umber with him. A determined pup, your elder brother can be. 

Aemond senses a shift within you as you wait in anticipation, though he cannot quite figure out what the cause is. When your brother arrives, you avoid his presentation at court entirely. Though Cregan is relentless, and spots you as you attempt to escape to the gardens. In your haste, you nearly run into Aemond. You clasp his arm.

“Quickly,” you say nervously, shifting on your feet, “I must go, quickly.”

“It is your brother,” Aemond says, looking over your shoulder, “why do you wish to run from him? Have you not missed him this time apart?”

Aemond knows you have been missing him, missing home. It is why he took such care with the flowers left in your chambers. He had enlisted Helaena for help; winter roses are fickle plants that require delicate care outside of the North. 

“Of course I have,” you tell him, trying but failing to hide behind his tall frame.

Aemond smiles slightly as you grab his arm. Cregan has spotted you, a determined grin on his face. Lord Umber has joined him on his journey to King’s Landing. He has brought the wedding to you. There’s nowhere to run anymore.

“Then why do you hide little wolf?” Aemond asks, chuckling.

“He wishes to marry me off,” you tell the prince, “ship me off to Last Hearth.”

Aemond’s face falls slightly, he glances over his shoulder as your brother comes closer with each passing second. Aemond turns back to you, eye scanning the distressed expression on your face. 

You bring your gaze back to the prince, an idea coming to you. 

“My prince,” you say suddenly, “do you trust me?”

Aemond frowns, not fully understanding what you are asking.

“Of course my lady-”

“Then kiss me.”

Aemond’s jaw slacks as he looks into your eyes. 

“Quickly, please,” you beg, “Aemond.”

His eye flickers from your lips to your eyes.

“Trust me,” you say softly.

The one-eyed dragon prince needs no more convincing. He bows his head to your height, and you stand on the tips of your toes, hand caressing the back of his neck bringing his lips to yours. Aemond is gentle with the kiss, as though he has never kissed someone before. He nearly pulls away after the first peck, but you secure your hand on his neck, opening your mouth against his, deepening the kiss.

Something comes alive in Aemond as you slip your tongue into his mouth. Fire curls in his belly, desire lodges at the base of his spine, and his cock strains against his trousers as your nails scrape his scalp. 

You pull away when the sound of someone clearing their throat pulls you from the prince’s trance. Lips reddened by the hasty kisses, Aemond’s violet eye is wide as it meets yours.

“Sister,” Cregan says awkwardly, “It is good-”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Stark,” Aemond interrupts, nodding to the young wolf.

“Your grace,” Cregan says, bowing slightly.

“Delightful to be surrounded by kin,” Aemond tells him.

“Kin? I do not understand,” Cregan tells him.

“My betrothed has missed her brother for too long now,” Aemond clarifies, much to Cregan’s and your surprise. 

“Betrothed?” Cregan asks, looking between you two. 

“Yes,” you tell him, sliding next to Aemond, pressing your body against him, “Prince Aemond has asked for my hand. And I have accepted.”

Cregan’s eyes narrow, ever so slightly.

“Without informing me?” he asks.

“We wished to surprise you,” Aemond says softly, “your sister was so excited by your arrival, she wanted to tell you in person.”

You nod eagerly as Aemond speaks, and Cregan raises an eyebrow at you in question. You smile widely, showing too many teeth. A she-wolf, daring him to question you aloud. 

“Tis true, brother,” you tell him, “Who am I to deny a dragon prince?”

“I suppose if you did not want to, you would not,” Cregan says, sighing, “A stubborn woman, my sister is.”

“One of the many reasons she is so charming,” Aemond agrees, his words causing your heart to flutter inside your chest.

Warmth pools in your belly as the prince smiles down at you. Cregan raises an eyebrow, nodding in approval. 

“I dare ask, what else has entrapped your attention, my prince?” Cregan asks, “It is my understanding the Queen wished for you to take a wife for some time now, to no avail.”

Aemond nods.

“Your sister is a rare find, much like a winter rose south of the Wall,” Aemond begins. 

Your heart leaps in your throat. Though you had expected it, now it is confirmed. It was he who left you the flowers. He who took such care with them. 

“However, did you do it?” you ask, eyes wide. 

Aemond smiles at you knowingly. 

“Precious flowers take time to bloom, they require special care,” he tells you, “but they are well worth it.”

You flush at his words, believing he means more than just the flowers. 

“A marriage must be treated with such care as well,” you agree, lacing your fingers through his. 

Aemond’s hand is rough from training with the sword, but your hand fits perfectly in his. The warmth of his palm settles the flurry of nerves in your stomach. 

“Are you prepared to give this union such care?” Cregan asks, his voice hardening, “This is my sister you are marrying, and she deserves nothing but the best.”

Aemond smiles, looking down at your intertwined hands. His thumb rubs against the back of your palm. 

“I would gift her the world if I could,” he admits, “I promise you, I shall spend the rest of my days devoted to making her happy.”

Your eyes well with tears and your heart swells with pride at his words. You tug him closer to you, taking his other hand in yours.

“You must excuse us brother,” you tell Cregan, “though I have missed you, I require a moment with my betrothed.”

You lead Aemond away from Cregan, away from the curious eyes of court, until you are in a secluded area of the castle.

“Where are we going?” Aemond asks, a smile playing on his lips.

You tug him closer once more until you are pressed up against him.

“I wish to kiss my betrothed unwatched,” you giggle, bringing his mouth to yours once more. 

This time, you do not stop.

______________________________________________________________

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