#I’ve worked four days i a row this week and I have two more to do

[mentalmeles]

You ever get so tired you feel like you might start crying?? Bc that’s me rn

#I’ve worked four days i a row this week and I have two more to do #I can barely handle four days in a row but six?? #I already feel so utterly exhausted #like my nerves are being frayed AND fried #my chronic pain has been acting up too… #not to mention I haven’t been able to eat much this week #I just…don’t have the time #nor the money #I’m at the end of my rope tbh #the star child speaks #negative #vent #don't reblog this

[nervousimposter]

Eddie started finding notes in his locker his sophomore year. The first couple of them, he just tossed without reading. He didn’t need to read what those asshole bullies wanted to say about him. But curiosity won out after two weeks of constant notes and he finally opened one. It was the single most impactful thing he’d ever read. 

I think you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. 

He kept that note. And every other note he got from that point on. If anyone were to ask Eddie what he regretted most in his life, it would be those two weeks of notes he tossed without reading. Ten slips of paper with unknown writing that he wishes he could get back. Add them to his ‘mystery boys notes’ box. And he was a mystery, the note writer. Anonymous. Unknown. Impossible to catch. 

Eddie held out for a month. A whole month before he decided to stage a stake out. He watched his locker like a hawk. In between classes, during classes, lunch, after school and even one absolutely horrible day where he came in an hour before school started. But the mystery boy had to be invisible. He never saw anyone approach his locker but his daily note was always there. And Eddie; poor, unfortunate, infatuated Eddie dealt with mystery boys’ notes from ‘82 to ‘85. Four agonizing years of the most heart-warming, loving notes. 

I wish I was as brave as you.

Did you change your shampoo? Your hair looked so soft today.

God, your eyes have to be the biggest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen. So pretty.

I like how long your hair is getting. 

Saw you walking down the hall today and I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more. 

They started cute. Compliments here and there, even a doodle every once in a while. Hearts and smiley faces. But as the months and years went by, the mystery boy got deeper. Confessions and secrets. 

I think if I had a different dad, we would’ve been best friends.

Can you fall in love with someone you’ve never talked to?

I dream about us. 

I’m a boy. I’m sorry.

I want to hold your hand. Those rings are something else. 

I saw you trying to catch me. Adorable.

I wish I could take you on a date. Not give a shit what my dad would say or what people would think. 

I wish I could be brave enough to talk to you. 

You’re still the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.

I’m graduating this year. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. I think I’m going to try to figure out a way to keep dropping these off next year. I don’t want you to forget about me.

The notes didn’t continue when the school year started. Eddie was embarrassed to admit he cried that first night. He wasn’t sure how the mystery boy was going to be able to get the notes to him but he fully believed it was going to happen. He went five weeks with no daily note in his locker. And then, it showed up on a Monday. He almost missed it, the tiny slip of paper. 

Sorry this took so long. Had to figure out how I was going to sneak these in here. I don’t think I’ll be able to call you pretty every day of the week this time around but I’m going to try my best! 

And mystery boy was right. The notes were always there on Monday. Just Monday. But Eddie didn’t complain. One note a week after five weeks of nothing almost had his heart bursting from his chest. It also narrowed down his search. Sort of. Mystery boy was either coming in on those Mondays to drop off the note, sneaking in on the weekends when the school was empty OR after school on Fridays. And look, he’s failed to graduate high school two times in a row now but he wasn’t stupid. Did it take him three months after the notes to start again for him to realize who it was? Yes but to be fair, for two of those months it was Eddie wallowing in denial. 

Five weeks into school was when he restarted Hellfire. Three weeks before that was when he brought in those new little freshman sheepies. The same freshman sheepies that got picked up by Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who graduated last year. Steve Harrington who he catches staring at him from his beemer in the parking lot every Friday night before he takes the kiddies home. Steve who he categorizes as someone who is so far out of his league that it just couldn’t be him. But it’s been three months and there isn’t any other former Hawkins high student running around in or near the school. And now that Eddie’s almost certain Steve has been mystery boy these past few years, he can’t wait. He’s been in love with a figure made out of slips of paper for four years and his nonexistent patience has truly run thin.  

He calls for a break 15 minutes before they normally end their sessions. Tells the boys he needs to run to the bathroom and almost sprints out the door. His locker sits in the hallway just around the corner of the drama room. The door closing shut echos through the empty hallways, alongside the squeaks coming from his shoes as he hustles towards his locker. He freezes as soon as he turns the corner. 

Steve probably only had 30 seconds after hearing the door open and shut to process what he was going to do. He could’ve run or hid, maybe pretend like he just needed the bathroom while he waited. But Eddie watched him pause as they made eye contact instead. Watched as Steve looked him up and down. Watched him relax and lean back against the lockers behind him with a lazy smirk. His arm slowly moved up and Eddie could see a slip of paper held between his fingers. Steve didn’t break eye contact with him at all as he proceeded to shove the paper between the vents of his locker. They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Staring. Broken when Steve pushed himself off the wall and walked towards him. He didn’t stop. Side stepped around Eddie before they could collide. A faint brush of his fingers along the back of his hand as he walked past him. And Eddie just watched him pass. Just like he watched him slip that note in his locker, he watched Steve walk back down the hall and out the front doors.

He waited only five seconds after the doors closed behind Steve before he jogged over to his locker. Grabbed the note and shoved it into his pocket before running back over to the drama room. Told the guys that they stopped at a decent spot and would meet again next Friday. Walked with them to the parking lot to head home. To catch a glimpse of Steve. And there he was, sitting in his beemer, staring again. This time though, Eddie smiled at him. He smiled at him and pulled the note out of his pocket. Opened it right there in the parking lot while he stared back at Steve. It only took him a few seconds to glance down to read. And as soon as he did, he threw his head back and laughed. Cackled really. He looked back at the beemer and saw Steve with the widest grin. Watched him lift his fingers off the steering wheel and wiggle them at him before he started pulling out of the lot. He looked back down at the note in his hand and chuckled again. Who knew Steve Harrington knew DnD well enough to draw a perfect rendition of an eight sided dice?

Wanna go on a d8? - Steve Harrington xxx-xxx-xxxx

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fic

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hello! My first time requesting, but I was hoping for a Damian x reader where reader has extreme insomnia and they can go weeks on end without sleeping, and he finally sees us sleeping for the first time in our relationship? I’ve been struggling with insomnia recently so I just wanted a fic about it! :)

i’ve been struggling with insomnia since covid happened so i know how you feel🥹🫶🏻 i hope you like it!

damian priest x reader

insomnia

“can’t sleep again?” he asked you when he saw you reading a book when you told him you were going to sleep.

three hours ago.

he knew about your insomnia and he hated that he couldn’t do anything about it. he tried everything in his power to help you but nothing was working.

you were used to it by now but for him, seeing you always so tired was something that he hated. all you were getting was three or four hours of sleep each night, if you were lucky. he never saw you sleeping for more than four hours and he knew how much you needed to sleep.

you just, couldn’t.

one time it happened that you hadn’t slept for two weeks in a row and damian was so worried he called the doctor to check on you. it didn’t care if you told him that it was normal for you, he was so worried that he wanted for you to get checked out.

it happened again. and it still happens but he got used to it.

he just hated seeing you always so tired but full of energy at the same time, knowing that you were high on painkillers for your headaches and on coffee to get you energy for the day.

“nope” you smiled at him, softly closing your book. it was already midnight and damian had been doing some training after dinner. you went to bed saying that you were tired but here you were after three hours of staring at the ceiling.

“you want to go for a car ride?” damian asked sitting in bed next to you. his suggestion melted your heart.

car rides always helped you sleeping. the soft music on background, the city lights at night. damian loved it when you first told him about car rides and he enjoyed them as much as you do. driving in silence and just looking at the view.

“thank you dams but not tonight…i’m not in the mood” you smiled at him “but i would love for you to cuddle me…”

“say less” he smiled getting under the cover with you.

your head on his muscular chest. his hands around your body keeping you warm and his lips softly kissing your head. one hand went straight into your hair, gently scratching it.

“we can talk if you want” damian suggested and you smiled at him.

“you’re tired dam…you should sleep”

“you’re tired too but you’re not sleeping yet and plus i’m not that tired” he said yawning.

“you sure?” you laughed “it’s okay damian, go back to sleep…i’ll be here in the morning, probably bringing you breakfast in bed” he smiled at your words.

“goodnight hermosa” he said and turned the lights off.

you spent a few hours staring at the ceiling, watching the moon outside and turning and moving into the bed. you couldn’t find peace big it wasn’t anything new for you.

damian got up to go to the bathroom and realised that you were still awake, eyes closed but awake, you were just resting your eyes.

“hermosa?” he softly called once he came back to bed.

“mh?”

“still awake?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“yup, but it’s not a problem…you should go back to sleep”

“i hate not being able to help you hermosa” he softly kissed your cheek, making you melt into his touch.

“you being here is already enough…”

“i think i could help you” he said, laying back next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder, making you close to his to his chest, where you just laid your head on.

“how?”

“let me sing for you…” he whispered.

“damian you don’t have to…”

“i want to mi amor…just close your eyes” he said as he started mumbling a soft spanish lullaby.

you really didn’t know what was going on. if it was his soft voice, his hand gently scratching your head, his slowly but steady heartbeat, the rain falling outside, you finally found some peace.

damian fell asleep way before you did but somehow you finally fell asleep too.

it was almost 8 am when damian first woke up and he almost had a heart attack when he saw you laying there next to him. he wasn’t used to it. you would usually be up by that time. making breakfast or cleaning or doing some work.

it took him a few minutes to realise that you were sleeping.

not resting. not taking a nap.

but you were really sleeping. heavenly sleeping.

he tried to make as less noise as possible when he got up and he went to close the blinds, so the light from outside wouldn’t wake you up.

he smiled, making his own breakfast and softly humming some latin song. he prepared some pancakes for you too and set them aside so that you would have something to eat for when you wake up.

he started his workout and took a quick shower in the guest bathroom when he saw that you were still sleeping.

almost lunchtime when he saw you coming out of your bedroom and getting into the living room where he was watching some tv.

“hey sleeping beauty” he smirked.

“what time is it?” you asked him yawning.

“eleven in the morning” he said and you almost gasped.

“what?”

“you heard me right”

“and i slept all morning!” you almost screamed too surprised.

“you did” he laughed.

“i had the best sleep of my life”

“i can bet that” he said letting you sit next to him and cuddle him.

“it was amazing i swear” you laughed “all thanks to your lullaby”

“i suppose…” he joked.

“i can’t wait to hear it again tonight”

“i made you pancakes love if you want to eat something…”

“you also made me breakfast?” you screamed “i love you so much damian”

he laughed when he saw you sprinting towards the kitchen, loving this side of you. not tired, not paranoid, just you being you.

#wwe #wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe x you #wwe imagines #damian priest #wwe one shot #wwe x oc #damian priest x reader #wwe damian priest #damian priest oneshot #damian priest x oc #damian priest x you #damian priest fanfic #damian priest smut #damian priest wwe #damian priest imagine #wwe damian priest x reader #damian priest x y/n #damian priest angst #damian priest fluff #the judgment day x you #the judgment day x reader #the judgment day one shot #wwe the judgment day

[togrowoldinv]

Spring Break

College!Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When Yelena invites you on a trip, your relationship with Natasha becomes harder to hide from her

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Lots of teasing, cursing, oral, also some soft moments

Note: I’m back with more college Nat! Check out Sweetheart for some backstory here. Follow my library blog for fic updates! Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

“Natasha,” you say breathlessly as the woman pulls at your hips to bring your center closer to her face. She hums against you as you continue to get close.

But then you’re interrupted.

“I’m home!” Yelena’s voice rings out from the living room.

"Fuck, she wasn’t supposed to be home yet,” you say while frantically trying to get off Natasha.

“No, not so fast,” Natasha says. She pulls your hips back down. “Just stay quiet. You’re going to come for me, sweetheart.”

“Nat, she could come in and-“ you’re cut off by Natasha’s tongue on you again. She works quickly and you bite your lip as you come for her.

“Good girl,” Natasha says quietly as she lets go of your waist.

You hear footsteps approaching your room and Natasha sits up to kiss you before she grabs her clothes and sneaks into your closet. You slip your clothes on quickly.

She shuts the door right as her sister enters your room.

“Hey y/n,” Yelena greets you. She walks right in and sits at your desk.

“Hey, what’s up?” You try act casual.

“So, I’m booking a trip for spring break,” she begins. “And I want you to come with us.”

“Us meaning you and Kate?” You ask even though you know the answer. She nods. “I don’t know Yelena. Third wheeling isn’t so fun.”

“So you’re going to just sit here all week? Come on, please! It’ll be so fun,” Yelena begs you. She gives you her best puppy dog eyes and pout.

“Fine,” you agree. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing at all. Kate’s mom is rich, so it’s basically free except for food and drinks.”

You give her a stunned look and she only shrugs.

“We leave Friday!” She says as she walks out of your room.

You shut the door and Natasha comes out of your closet.

“So I guess you heard I’ll be gone next week,” you say with a sigh.

“Why aren’t you excited?” She asks, sitting on your bed next to you.

“I just kind of hate third wheeling with them. And she doesn’t know about us so it’s like I can’t really say no,” you explain.

“I see,” Natasha says. She wraps an arm around your shoulder and you lean into her. You’ve found that you love the soft moments with her just as much as the sex with her.

“I’ll miss you,” you say. And it’s true. You’ve gotten used to sneaking around and seeing Nat almost everyday since that party where you hooked up.

“I’ll miss you too, baby. It’ll be okay,” she assures you. “I’ve got class in the morning, so I should probably get going. Is that alright?”

“Of course, yeah. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Absolutely.”

Natasha kisses you once more before you check to make sure the coast is clear and then she leaves your room and apartment.

The days leading up to the trip go by quickly and before you know it you’re packed and in the car to the airport.

“We are just making one more stop and then to the airport,” Kate tells the driver.

You have no idea what that stop could be, but when you arrive at a familiar apartment your heart beats faster.

Your gut feeling is confirmed when the redhead slips into the seat next to you.

“Hey,” Natasha says simply, a smirk that only you understand is on her face.

Yelena moves out of her seat and hugs her sister. “I’m so glad you could come!”

“Me too,” Nat says. “It’ll be nice to catch up and relax.”

The ride to the airport feels long and intense with the way Natasha’s thigh brushes against yours. When you get into the plane, you can’t all four sit together so you split up into twos. Obviously, you and Natasha end up together.

“How are you here?” You ask her. The loudness of the plane and being a few rows away from Yelena and Kate allows for you to talk like this.

“Yelena asked me,” Nat says.

“Why? Do you think she knows?”

“I don’t, no. I think she just wanted me to go. I don’t know.”

You accept that answer is the best you’re going to get.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’ll be fun,” Natasha says, slipping her hand into yours. “Think about the fact that I packed my best red bikini.”

Your eyes go wide and Nat chuckles. She likes how easily she can get you flustered.

She holds your hand for the entirety of the flight.

By the time you get to the resort, everyone turns in for an early night. Kate and Yelena go to one room while you and Nat take the other.

“See I told you this would be fun,” Nat says as she slips into bed next to you.

“I guess. But I’m still worried she’s going to find out.”

“Let me ease some of those worries,” she says. Her hand brushes your over the skin of your arm.

“Nat, we can’t do that here,” you say.

“Why?”

“We just- we need to keep it chill this week.”

“Alright,” she agrees. “Chill.”

Something about the tone of her voice and the way she kisses your cheek before she turns over to go to sleep tells you that she won’t be making this week easy.

On the beach the next day, your worries are confirmed as Nat strolls past you in a red bikini. Thank goodness you have sunglasses on or Yelena and Kate would see your eyes unashamedly all over Natasha’s body.

“Did everyone put on sunscreen?” Her voice breaks you from your stare.

“Yes mom,” Yelena answers her sister, rolling her eyes in the process. She goes back to her conversation with Kate.

“Y/n?” Nat asks.

“Um, no I didn’t. But I’ll be fine,” you say.

“You’ll get burnt, sweetheart. Let me put some on you,” she says with a smirk on her face.

She doesn’t give you a chance to argue before she’s in front of you with a bottle in her hands.

“We’re going to the water,” Kate announces before her and Yelena walk off hand in hand.

Natasha gestures for you to stand up. You do so and she slips into your chair. She pats the space in between her legs.

“Come on, it’s just sunscreen,” she teases you. You sit on the chair between her legs, trying to ignore the way her her hands are immediately on your hips.

She puts the lotion in her hands and begins applying it to your back. Nat takes her time as she does so. Her hands drift down further and over to your thighs. Deft fingers run over your inner thighs.

“Natasha,” you practically moan.

“You like that, baby?” She asks. Her mouth is next to your ear. You nod and she pulls her hands away. You let out a small whimper. “Don’t do that, sweetheart. You said we were keeping it chill this week.”

Her lips ghost over the back of your neck as she taps your hips for you to stand up. She puts the bottle away and walks towards the waves, leaving you there speechless.

And that’s what she does for the entirety of the next few days. Never missing an opportunity to tease you, she keeps you flustered.

On the final full day, you’re laying out in the sun when Natasha comes up to you. She’s been in the water and her skin glistens with water droplets. She takes her hair down and shakes it out. The water hits your body.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you wet,” Natasha says. Her words and the look on her face is enough to make you wet, and not from the ocean water.

You stand up and excuse yourself back to the resort. Trying to cool down, you get a water from the fridge. When you close the door, Natasha is standing on the other side of it.

“Fuck! You scared me,” you say.

“Sorry,” she chuckles. She hops on the counter. “You’re not playing it very chill by the way.”

“Me? Says the one who is teasing me!”

Natasha laughs and reaches her hands out for you. You look towards the door and back to Nat. You really do miss being in her arms.

Taking her hands, you step between her legs.

“What’s the harm in not keeping it chill just once?” Nat asks. “Besides I did actually make you wet, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” She asks, her fingers hover over the waistband of your bathing suit.

“Yes daddy.”

“There we go, baby.”

Natasha slips her fingers into your suit bottoms and runs them over your slick folds. She smirks at how wet you really are. Slipping then down your legs, she gets off the counter and is on her knees in front of you.

“Oh fuck,” you say as her mouth gets work quickly. You reach for the counter in front of you so you don’t lose your footing. She makes you weak in the knees.

“Be good for me, baby,” she says with a sternness to her voice. Her hands grip the back of your thighs tightly.

You’re so into it that you don’t notice the door opening. But you do hear it close. So does Natasha. She stops eating you out and stands up abruptly.

“Was it Yelena?” She asks.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Oh god, I don’t know.”

You start to pace the kitchen in a panic. Nat hands you your suit bottoms before she goes to the door to see if she can tell who it was. She has no luck.

“Okay relax, baby. If it was Yelena, she would’ve said something. Maybe it was housekeeping or something?” Natasha tries to ease your worries.

“Or it was Kate who will immediately tell Yelena,” you say.

“Let’s just not worry about it, okay? We’ll get cleaned up and get ready for dinner.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, I’ve got you,” she says, taking your face in her hands. She kisses your forehead gently.

It’s not long before Yelena and Kate are back and getting ready for dinner as well. The four of you walk to the restaurant and everything appears to be going smoothly.

Until during dinner when Yelena turns to Kate and asks, “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet all night.”

“Oh yeah, I’m good. It’s just- never mind,” Kate replies. Her eyes bounce between you and Nat. Your pace quickens.

“What is it, babe?” Yelena pushes.

“I saw something,” Kate blurts out. Yelena raises a brow, prompting her to continue. “It was Natasha and y/n they were-“

“We’re dating,” Natasha interrupts Kate. “We have been dating for about a month.”

“Oh,” is Yelena’s only response.

You jump in. “We were going to tell you.”

“Excuse me,” Yelena leaves the table.

Your eyes tear up as you worry about how she reacted and if she will still be your best friend.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Nat says. “Stay with Kate. I’m going to go talk to her.” She rubs her hand on your back before she leaves the table.

“I’m sorry,” Kate says. “I just felt like I had to tell her.”

“It’s alright,” you say.

Meanwhile, Natasha finds Yelena back up in the room.

“Why?” Yelena speaks first. “Why my best friend?”

“Because she’s everything to me,” Natasha replies. “When I’m with her, I just feel at home.”

Yelena sees the truth in Natasha’s eyes. She’s never seen her like this before.

“You’re not just hooking up with her?”

“No,” Nat says. “It started the first time that way, but really it was more than that by the time we finished. Yelena, I promise, I’m not going to hurt her.”

Yelena crosses the room and takes her sister into her arms. For so long, they’ve only had each other. And now they both have you.

“Can we go back to dinner?” Natasha asks, holding her little sister tight.

“Yeah,” Yelena says. “Just promise me that nothing with us will change because of this.”

“I promise, sestra,” Natasha says.

The two walk back to the restaurant and Yelena walks ahead to get to you first. She hugs you from behind.

“Don’t hurt my sister,” she says.

“I won’t, I promise.”

“I know,” she says. “Also, don’t tell me anything about your sex life. Got it?”

You laugh at that. “Got it, Yel. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Yelena says. She goes back to her side of the table and Nat sits next to you again.

“We’re okay?” You ask her.

“We’re okay, sweetheart.”

Natasha reaches for your hand underneath the table. With the feeling of her hand in yours, love radiates between the two of you.

And everything feels right.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #college!natasha

[cozy-the-overlord]

Free Fall

Summary: Tony Stark arranges for an Avengers Teambuilding Day at a local amusement park. Loki had been hoping to avoid it -- he's had enough thrills to last a lifetime, he has no desire to seek out more -- but you and your endearing enthusiasm for roller coasters convince him to come along. However, the free fall drop tower you start out with turns out to be a bit more thrilling than he bargained for.

Word Count: 3,482

Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: Drags self out of the grave and awkwardly waves

So it's been a minute since I posted lol. Those of you who follow may be aware that I recently graduated from college with the Final Semester From Hell that involved my computer hard drive dying on me in class and causing me to lose not only forty pages of my honors thesis two weeks before it was due, but also almost every WIP I had been working on in the past four years because I am an idiot who chronically forgets to back things up :D I did make it through college, but between stress, burnout, depression, and the death of any motivation to work on anything because of having to restart from the beginning for all of my projects, I went a while without writing anything. But I'm slowly getting back into it -- I have several projects in the works and I'm hoping to get back to posting more regularly. This fic was a short piece that I had started prior to the computer death that I had a lot of physical notes on so they weren't lost when my hard drive decided to yeet itself into the sun. I'm not entirely happy with it, but honestly it feels so good to finally finish something that I don't care.

Anyways, sorry for the obnoxious A/N. Thank you so much for reading!

Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, panic attack, a bit of motion sickness?

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4 @theredrenard @justdontmindmetm @lostgreekgod @naterson

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :) (I also realize that this taglist is Old so if I need to update it please let me know)

Read it on Ao3!

Standing in the shadow of the great tower, heart thudding in his throat, Loki is suddenly aware that he’s made an enormous mistake.

Next to him, Stark whistles. “This is what you usually start with?”

You grin up at the spire, a massive construction of electric green cutting through the cloudless sky. Two elevators, one on either side, are creeping slowly up the length of the tower. They linger at the top for just a moment before plunging back down to Earth, their occupants screaming. Loki feels ill just watching, but you’re practically vibrating in place. “It’s good to get the blood pumping.”

He can’t bring himself to look at you.

It’s your fault that he’s here. Loki hadn’t planned to come today at all. A day spent outside in the sweltering summer sun, following Stark’s gaggle of misfits onto various machines designed to fling mortals from side to side to simulate the feeling of a near death experience? Loki couldn’t imagine anything more torturous. Thor’s begging and cajoling received nothing in response. No, he hadn’t the slightest intention of coming today, not until last night, when he came across you restocking the main refrigerator.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” you had asked as you arranged rows of Red Bull on the top shelf. “I can’t wait to take you guys around Rapid Rails—I’ve been begging Mr. Stark to do a teambuilding day there ever since he hired me.”

Your eagerness caught him off guard— as Stark’s personal assistant, you had been present at all of his godforsaken teambuilding events, but Loki had never known you to be particularly excited about any of them. “I … I wasn’t aware you had such an attachment to it.”

“Oh yeah—I grew up just down the street from there!” You beamed at him, breaking down the cardboard box you had used to carry the cans. “We used to have season passes – they were way cheaper when I was a kid – and we’d just go there to hang out all the time. Gosh it was so fun. And now I get to go for work!” You let out a merry laugh. “I guess some things never change, right?”

Loki huffed a soft chuckle. He had never seen you like this before, practically bubbling over in excitement. It was … rather endearing. “I suppose not.”

“You are coming, right? Thor said you hadn’t made up your mind yet.”

Were the circumstances different, Loki might have scoffed. Hadn’t made up your mind yet—Norns, his brother lived in denial. Instead though, he hesitated. “I … I’m afraid I hadn’t planned on it.”

“Really?” The way your face fell actually hurt his chest. “Why not?”

“I—” He glanced away, pressing his lips together. “I’m not sure I’m one for your roller coasters,” he said, finally. “You’d likely have a better time without me there.” It was an attempt at lightheartedness, but you only seemed more disappointed.

“Oh, that’s not true at all! I was really looking forward to—” you stopped suddenly, and when Loki looked up again, you were biting your lip with a nervous laugh. “I mean, it would be really fun if you came with us. But it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I suppose I could come, if you so desire.” He hoped he sounded nonchalantly cool, and that you couldn’t see the way his heart fluttered at the idea that you might want him there. “I wouldn’t wish to let you down.”

“Oh, I mean—” You looked away, the light from the refrigerator silhouetting your frame. “I don’t want to force you, if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t do it just for me.”

“No, I …” He inhaled, then smiled. “I think I would like to join you.”

And so here he is, at the base of this great metal monstrosity, intently studying the sign outside of the line entrance to avoid Thor’s knowing smirk. His brother has never worn self-satisfaction well.

DEATH DROP: THE TALLEST AND FASTEST DROP TOWER ON THE EAST COAST

 The description is illustrated with a photograph of two people strapped to their seats, mouths wide in mid-scream as their hair flies every which way. Loki lets out a shaky exhale as he reads. The tower, it claims, is 400 feet tall. It reaches top speeds of 85 miles per hour. The ride itself lasts about 90 seconds in total. The measuring stand besides the entrance indicates that participants must be at least 48 inches tall.

400 feet. That doesn’t sound too terrible, he tells himself. The concept of a foot as a unit of measurement is still something he struggles to wrap his head around, but he knows that Stark Tower stands at over a thousand. So that’s not too bad. 400 feet would be a drop in the bucket, really, compared to …

No. He pushes the thought down, back into the dark recesses of his memory. None of that. Not today.

Stark smirks at him. “You’re looking green, Tommy Wiseau.”

Loki swallows, straining to maintain his stiff mask of composure. It’s bad enough to have Stark reveling in his discomfort, but now you’re looking over at him too, brow furrowed in concern, and he wishes he could melt away on the spot. “I’m quite fine.”

“Of course he is!” Thor booms, slapping his shoulder with a hearty thwack that does nothing for Loki’s stomach. “We’ve fallen from much higher heights, haven’t we, brother?”

Weightless. Breathless. Engulfed by inky nothingness, the air so thin he can’t even scream —

Loki’s smile hurts. “Yes, very true.”

“You don’t have to go, Loki,” you interject. “It’s totally okay— I have friends who love roller coasters and refuse to touch this ride. It’s a lot.”

He knows you mean it as reassurance, but he can’t stand the way you’re looking at him, as if he were a frightened child, too fragile to be brought along. Are you regretting having convinced him to change his mind? Do you feel that he’s only holding you back? Somehow, the idea that you no longer want him here is almost as sickening as the thought of the fall.

Loki huffs a breath. No. He will prove himself worthy of your coaster. “I assure you, I am fine.” His voice is more strained than he’d prefer it to be. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

…

The attendant seems rather starstruck as he ushers the group onto the ride—he stumbles and stammers through the explanation of the seating arrangements and the harness. Loki’s not really listening as he follows you to the left side of the cart, trying not to ignore the buzzing that seems to be settling behind his ears.

You smile up at him. “Would you rather sit on the side or in the middle?”

He frowns. “Does it make a difference?”

“Well, personally I don’t think so, but I know some people who get scared of heights think it’s easier to sit in the middle.”

“I’m not scared of heights.” The words come out far too quickly to sound believable, and he curses inwardly at himself. “I can sit on the side.”

“Are you sure?”  You eye him uncertainly. “It’s okay if you—"

“I’m quite capable of managing such a seat.” He sits before you have the chance to question him again.

The seat is rather tight—Loki wonders if that’s intentional, or if it’s simply built with a smaller frame in mind. In the cart off to the right, he can hear Thor fumbling about with the attendant, and he chuckles despite himself. If he’s finding it to be a bit of a squeeze, he can’t imagine the troubles his bulky brother must be having.

It’s a momentary reprieve from his darker thoughts, and Loki is actually smiling when you warn him to sit back against the seat.

“The harness is going to be coming down soon.”

“What?”

You motion to the contraption above the cart, two plastic green masses shaped like upside down u’s that hover above your heads like the top of a clam shell. “It sits over you and keeps you from flying out of the cart.” You let out a small laugh. “It’s like the harnesses on the Quinjets, but way less cool. They also have little handles that you can hold on to if you want.”

Loki is eyeing the harnesses uncertainly. “What do you mean they’ll be coming down soon?”

“You used to have to pull it down yourself, but they have it all programmed now.” A great mechanical creak cracks through the air, and you press yourself against the back of the seat. “Oh, here it comes now!”

He frowns, mimicking your movement to sit as far back as he can. The green restraint descends slowly over his head, with a metallic groan that does not give him much faith in the construction of this monstrosity. He expects it to stop once it was hovering over his torso, but it continues until it’s pressed snuggly against his chest, pinning him to the seat. The attendant is saying something over the intercom, but Loki barely registers it over the feeling of the restraint. It’s … it’s not a painful sensation, but the firmness with which it holds … he’s been restrained before. Little flames of memory spark in the corners of his mind, flames he can’t seem to douse no matter how hard he tries.

Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.

He gives an apprehensive tug on the metal handles that now rest on either shoulder, a tug which quickly turns into a hard yank. The harness does not move. His mouth has gone dry.

“Loki?” you’re frowning at him, your head only barely visible through your own harness. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You’re not bothered by the restraint. Of course you aren’t—how many times did you say you’ve ridden this ride? It’s fine. It’s fine. Goodness, what must you think of him, seeing him panic over the safety harness that you’ve worn hundreds of times before for fun? He nods his head, shaking away the feelings and memories and emotions and all the other thoughts that he wishes he could just wash down the drain …

“Are you sure—?”

“Perfectly,” he spits, but it comes out more snappishly than he intended, and you recoil with a look on your face that makes him despise himself.

I shouldn’t be allowed to speak.

“And enjoy your ride!” the attendant finishes with a flourish, and the thick metal cranking is all the warning you get before the cart begins to lift off from the ground. Loki’s heart jumps to his throat, pounding so fast he can’t make out the separate beats.

“This part is the scariest bit,” you yell at him over the grinding of machinery. “The anticipation kills me!”

Loki inhales. The elevator continues to rise, inching up slowly along the spire, the ground beneath their feet melting into miniature. This is alright, he tells himself. If this is the worst part of the experience, then he’ll be just fine. There’s nothing particularly frightening about it—he spoke the truth when he told you that he had never been bothered by heights. It’s all perfectly fine.

Perfectly. Fine.

Norns, they’re still going up. He risks a glance at the track above him—surely they must be close now? The movement makes him queasy, and he quickly turns back to face straight ahead. His knuckles are white from clutching the handles. The harness is digging into his chest and it takes all of his self-control not to rip it off. The elevator stutters—is this it? His breath catches, but no, they’re still going up. They seem to be slowing down though, don’t they? Or is that only his imagination?

I’m going to be ill.

They’ve stopped. That’s not in his head. Everything seems frozen in place. Why did he agree to do this? Loki presses his eyes closed. Any moment now. Any moment …

Still nothing.

His chest aches. He may have forgotten to breathe. Why have they stopped? Is something wrong? Loki turns to you—you look ecstatic, eyes crinkled with elation, mouth wide in an open grin.

“When is it going to—”

You drop.

The world goes silent. He feels it, that awful sensation in his stomach as the line goes slack and colors rush before his eyes in a blur until it all fades to darkness, airlessness, weightlessness, his lungs burning and drowning on the empty void of space—he’s falling, he’s falling again, he’s falling again oh please Norns not again—

There’s ground beneath his feet. He’s not sure where it came from. His knuckles ache. You’re talking – to him? He’s not sure, he only barely can make out your voice …

“Loki? The harness is coming up. Can you let go?”

He’s still clinging to the handles. Can he let go? He’s not sure. His body feels like lead. He pries his fingers from the metal tube and the pressure against his chest vanishes with a woosh over his head.

“There you go.” Your voice is soft, encouraging, closer than he remembered. He looks up to find you kneeling on the ground before him. You flash a nervous smile. “You alright?”

He’s not sure what to say. His instinct is to apologize, insist that yes, of course, he’s quite alright, he didn’t mean to give any impression to the contrary, everything is fine, but the words catch in his throat.

stars melting together smothering his last breath

Loki lets out a shuddering breath, settles for a nod.

“What’s the hold-up?” Stark calls out. “Barton and Romanov are waiting with the kids on the other side of the park.”

“We’re just taking a break for a minute!” Your reply is hurried. “You guys can go on, we’ll meet you there.”

“Is something wrong?” Thor sounds concerned, and—oh great—now both him and Stark are walking over to their cart. “Loki? What happened?”

“I—” But words, so often his steadfast ally, seem to be failing him right now. What happened? He has no answer; at least, none that his brother would accept. For nothing had happened, not really, and yet that was enough to send him spiraling through the fabric of reality.

He hates this. He hates feeling so weak.

Stark is chuckling. “If I knew that this was all it took to shut him up, I would have rented this place out sooner—”

Enough.

Loki forces himself to stand – far too quickly, his stomach churns at the movement, but he swallows the bile in his throat. He needs to get away. It doesn’t matter how, but he needs to not be with them. Besides him, you scramble to your feet too.

“I’m well.” His voice doesn’t sound right—it feels foreign, and thick like syrup, nothing like his own. “You may go on without me.”

“Are you certain?” Thor is frowning. “We can wait—”

Please don’t.

“I’m certain. I just need to sit for a moment.”

“There’s a bench nearby!” You’ve taken on the same cheery inflection typical of your working voice, and it adds a sense of normalcy to a distinctly abnormal situation. He’s grateful for it. “I can show you where!”

Both Stark and his brother seem reluctant to leave, but you insist that it’s fine. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”

He feels slightly steadier as he follows you to the bench—it’s just a wooden thing on the side of the concrete path, across from what appears to be a diner of some sort. You mumble something about going to get water. It’s a relief when you turn away, so you don’t see how he collapses against the seat.

There’s ground beneath his feet. Loki closes his eyes, focuses on that. There’s ground beneath my feet. The asphalt is firm, hot with the summer sun, anchoring him to reality. He lets out a breath. It feels safe.

Unless, of course, it crumbles beneath your step and flings you back into the abyss –

“Hey.” He jerks up at the sound of your voice, and the suddenness causes you to jump as well. You shift apologetically, standing in front of him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Loki swallows. How did he not hear you come up? “You didn’t.” Although it must be obvious that you did. At least you’re kind enough to allow him the lie.

You offer him a plastic cup. It’s a flimsy thing, but quite cold, relieving against his feverish skin. He takes it with a mumbled thanks, pretending he doesn’t notice how you’re studying him with a quiet sort of concern.

“Are you feeling better?” you ask after a moment.

Loki bites down on the inside of his cheek, relishing the way it stings. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just – I mean – ” you glance down, tugging at your shirt sleeve. “I get panic attacks too.”

“I don’t—” But he stops himself, stops the urge to argue. Gives a gentle nod instead. “I’m well, thank you. I just … I need a moment to catch my breath.”

“I’m sorry …” You look away guiltily. “Death Drop is kind of a lot – we shouldn’t have done that first.”

“It’s not that. I –” He wants to explain to you. He wants you to know that he’s not usually like this—he never used to be like this, he’s strong and steady and perfectly capable of anything you could ask of him, but his voice is failing once again. Loki huffs a sigh. “You ought to go on with the others. I don’t wish to ruin your day.”

“Oh, you haven’t ruined anything. I’ve been on every ride in this park about a million times. It’s fine!” Your voice is bubbly and light as you sit down next to him on the bench. There’s something oddly comforting about the sound. “Besides, it’s bad etiquette to leave a friend by themselves at an amusement park. Buddy system and all that.”

A friend. He can only stare at you.

You falter. “Unless … unless you’d rather I left?”

“No—” Loki surprises himself with how quickly he answers. “No, I’d rather you didn’t.”

Several minutes pass in silence, the frantic beating of his heart slowly tapering off into something softer as he drinks in your presence. He’s grateful for it, grateful for how you let him soak in the quiet. Thor would never have allowed him such a moment’s peace.

 He’s considering asking if you’re sure you don’t want to go on any other coasters (he feels guilty for keeping you here—perhaps he can accompany you through the queue and wait on the ground?) when you suddenly sit up stock-straight. “Oh!”

Loki frowns. “Is something wrong?”

You turn to him with a wide grin. “I just remembered they have Dole Whip here!”

“They—what kind of whip?” What sort of ride would a whip be, he wonders? A human sized slingshot, perhaps? His stomach lurches at the thought.

Luckily though, he’s proved wrong. “Dole Whip!” you giggle. “It’s like ice cream, but fruit flavored. Like there’s pineapple and strawberry and whatnot—it’s like soft serve.” You look at him with a kind of hopeful excitement. “Do you want to try some?”

Loki hums. He has yet to try soft serve ice cream, but he knows his brother practically swears by the stuff. “Is it good?”

“Supposedly. I’ve actually never tried it— we never wanted to spend money on park food when we would come as kids. It’s stupid expensive.” You smirk. “But today’s all on Mr. Stark’s dime, so…”

He chuckles. “And you would take advantage of your employer in such a fashion? I didn’t realize I had such a Machiavellian on my hands.”

“Hey, I’m just taking advantage of the opportunities presented to me!” You stand with a grin, holding your hands up in a mock surrender pose. “You can’t blame me for that, can you?”

“Oh, I’d never,” he teases as he stands, and he’s relieved to find that his legs have regained their steadiness. “I’d be honored to experience this Dole Whip with you on Stark’s expense.”

“Fantastic,” you beam. “It’s not too far from here. And it’s right next to a bunch of these little shops—they have this ridiculous giant sea monster toy that costs like $300, I can show you—”

You continue on as the both of you walk down the path, telling him all about the park’s various hidden gems and the inside jokes you and your friends have concocted around them, and Loki finds himself laughing more than not—he can’t help it, your giggles are just too infectious.

Huh. Perhaps joining you today wasn’t a mistake after all.

#loki x reader #loki fluff #loki fanfic #hurt/comfort #loki marvel #free fall #cozy writes

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Extra: Harry & Y/N First Time)

Summary: The more detailed story of the first time Harry and Y/N have sex. It ended up being basically chapter 11 of the main story.

Previous Chapters:

Main Story: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

Sickfic Part 1 ; Part 2

Mitchrry Prequel

Fan Reactions

Holiday Blues

Word Count: 4K

CW: smut

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Never in a million years did you think you would be spending the afternoon with your two boyfriends and girlfriend on a yacht in Italy. And yet, that’s exactly where you are. It’s been an absolutely wonderful day on the boat, but now you’re learning a slight downside.

Bathrooms on boats are small. You think that maybe on the bigger fancier yachts there might be full sized bathrooms, but that’s definitely not the case here. Which makes getting ready to go out to dinner a bit difficult.

You, Harry, Sarah, and Mitch, as well as Gemma and a few others are all scattered throughout the boat getting changed and freshening up since you’re going straight to a fancy dinner.

“Ow, dang it!” you exclaim as you bump your arm into the wall while trying to get your dress on.

A second later you hear a knock on the door. “You alright in there love?” Harry asks.

“Yea, no, I’m good! Just hit my arm trying to get into this dress.”

“Do you need help?”

“No no, I’ve got it.”  It’s quiet for a moment before Harry hears another bang followed by a quiet “oh come on”.  

“Can I please help you?” he asks again.

You finally admit defeat and say, “Okay, but I’m uh, not really wearing anything.”

“It’s just me out here, no one else will see you,” he says reassuringly.

You open the door and Harry pauses for a second, taken aback at the sight in front of him. You’re standing there in just your bra and panties, holding the dress in your hand. His mouth waters at your bare skin, and he thinks back to the night before when he watched Mitch slide into you. He immediately imagines himself in Mitch’s position, and all he wants is to take you to bed at that very moment.

But Harry is a gentleman. So he averts his gaze to the dress you’re holding and reaches out to take it from you.

“I’m not sure why I’m having trouble with it. I tried it on when I got it a couple weeks ago and it was fine,” you state.

Harry looks at it for a second before saying, “Well you didn’t unzip both zippers.”

“Both zippers?” you ask incredulously. “There’s more than one zipper? What the fuck?”

Harry laughs and says, “Yea one under each arm.”

“Wow I completely forgot about that. I feel dumb now.”

“Oh don’t say that, two zippers is kind of weird.”

Harry hands back the dress, and you slide it on easily now that he’s undone both zippers. He helps you zip them up as well, his hands trailing along your skin as he does so. His eyes meet yours and you reach out to cup his cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. You plan to keep it simple, unaware of how turned-on Harry is after seeing you in such little clothing a moment ago.

He deepens the kiss as he pulls you flush against him. You follow his lead and get lost in the feeling of him against you until you hear someone coming and step away.

“Don’t worry,” Sarah says. “It’s just us. Everyone else has left already.”

“The last car is waiting for the four of us,” Mitch adds.

“We’re alone on the boat?” Harry asks and the other two nod yes.

He kisses you one more time before walking over and kisses first Sarah, then Mitch. You get to share a kiss with each of them as well before finally heading out to the car.

You and Harry are next to each other in the back of the van while Mitch and Sarah are in the middle row. It’s a 20-minute drive and Harry seems to have decided that the best way to pass the time is kissing you. It’s not like you make out the whole way, but rather he surprises you with kisses throughout the ride. You’re admittedly a little worked up by the time you reach the destination.

At the restaurant Harrys sits on your right side and Gemma sits on your left. A few of Harry’s friends are directly across, and Mitch and Sarah are down at the other end of the table. It feels weird being so far from them.

You look over and catch Sarah’s eyes before sharing a soft smile with her.

“So, Y/N, Harry,” you turn to Gemma beside you as she says your name. “How long have you two been secretly dating?”

You let out a quiet laugh at how straightforward she is and Harry answers, “Officially I guess it’s been about 24 hours.”

“Wait, this is that new?”

“Yea, pretty new,” you reply. You take a moment to choose your words, landing on an honest explanation that will still hide some of the truth. “We hung out a bit when I was at the shows last month. And before I left we discussed maybe dating but that we wanted to wait until the tour ended.”

“You didn’t wait very long,” Gemma says with a laugh, her tone indicating that she’s teasing rather than judging.

“Well, she’s only here for the week, had to make a good impression with the little time I have,” Harry replies.

“And did he make a good impression? Where’d he take you on your date?”

“He uhm, well, he actually had a chef come to the house,” you answer a little hesitantly, knowing that’s not a date most people can afford.

Gemma smiles and you know she’s being genuine when she says, “That sounds lovely. I really am happy for the two of you. Harry, don’t mess this up.”

The conversation turns to other topics, and you all enjoy another delicious meal. Harry’s hand lingers on you throughout the entire dinner. He holds your hand until your dinner arrives and you need it to eat with, and then he places his on your knee. It’s something so small and yet so sweet that it has you feeling both cared for, and honestly, a little turned on. Especially on the rare moments when his hand slides just a bit higher on your leg. 

The four of you say good-bye to the rest of the group and load into the car to head to the villa. You’re again in the back with Harry who immediately places his hand on your thigh, higher than before, and the sudden contact causes you to gasp in surprise and desire. All the little touches from throughout the day have you on edge, and part of you wants to throw caution to the wind and straddle him right there in the car.

But you contain yourself. You place your hand on his thigh as well, mirroring his actions as he slides higher. His breathing picks up and you notice a slight bulge in his pants that wasn’t there before. You decide to get a little payback for all his teasing, and you move to lightly grip his hardening length over his clothes.

The choked gasp that Harry lets out catches Mitch and Sarah’s attention. They turn around and you see their eyes darken at the sight of you so gently working Harry up. He thrusts up chasing more friction and you pull completely away. Harry pouts and opens his eyes and seeing that they have an audience grounds him a bit. He knows they can do whatever they want in front of Mitch and Sarah, but there’s still the driver to think about, and so Harry focuses on taking some deep breaths.

You watch him as he does this, and you’re impressed at how well he can calm himself. You remember a time when Mitch and Sarah did everything they could to rile you up in the back of a van and there was no way you could center yourself as well as Harry just had. In fact, you’re probably in a worse state than he is at the moment. Luckily it’s a short drive and as you turn a corner you see the villa just ahead.

You all climb out of the car and thank the driver before turning to head inside. Harry keeps one hand on the small of your back as he unlocks the front door. There’s a charged energy surrounding the four of you as Harry leads you all to the bedroom.

Once in the room, you again wonder what to do, where to go. Going from three people to four is an adjustment and you know at some point you’ll all get into a rhythm, but as this is only the second time you’re all together, there’s still some hesitancy.

“Y/N,” Harry says, and you look at him. He continues, “I would very much like to have sex with you tonight, if that’s alright?��

The wording of his question seems so formal that you almost laugh, but then the meaning sinks in and laughing is the last thing you feel like doing. Harry wants you, wants to have sex with you, and you realize that there’s nothing you want more in than moment than to say yes.

You start to nod, and Harry gives you a look that you somehow understand means “use your words.”

“Yes, Harry, that’s alright with me. I want that too.”

With your clear consent given, Harry doesn’t waste a second. He walks forward, once again pulling you flush against him and leans down to press his lips against yours. It’s possibly the most intense kiss you’ve ever had, his mouth naturally dominating yours and you happily submit. It’s a freeing feeling, giving up control and trusting Harry to take care of you.

As his tongue slides against yours you swallow the whines that try to leave your mouth.

Sarah slides up behind you, placing her hands on your waist as she says, “Don’t hold back darling, let us hear you.” You roll your eyes, first in endeared annoyance at how well she can read you by now, and then in desire when her lips move to suck a love bit into your neck. The onslaught of sensations has you weak in the knees and you sink into Sarah who helps hold you up.

When you pull away to take a gasping breath you open your eyes and see Mitch mirroring Sarah by standing behind Harry. He takes advantage of your need for oxygen by pulling Harry’s head to the side so that he can slot their lips together. You let out a moan at the sight of them making out in front of you.

Without breaking his kiss with Mitch, Harry slides his hands up your sides until he reaches the zippers. He slowly starts to pull them down, giving you plenty of time to stop him if you want to. But you don’t. You let him remove your dress and Sarah helps you take off your bra and underwear.

You’re standing there, completely bare while the other three are fully dressed. It should make you feel self-conscious, or vulnerable, but instead it just feels nice. You know that they’re going to take care of you and make you feel good, and you want to let them. So you stand there as they run their hands along your body and just embrace their touches.

You get lost in the kisses the other three press to your lips. You know that whichever two you’re not currently kissing are making out with each other, since you can hear the sounds of their lips smacking together, and you love that now everyone can always have a partner. With three it sometimes felt like one person was being left out but with four, that’s no longer the case.

Hands eventually lead you to bed and you lay down. You get to watch as Mitch, Sarah, and Harry all help each other to remove their clothes. Sarah sits next to you and Harry climbs on the bed by your feet. Mitch stays standing, watching the scene unfold before him.

Harry gently moves your legs apart and slides between them, placing kisses on your skin as he moves up. Your body heats under his touches and you feel desire pool in your belly. When his lips reach your inner thighs you moan and quietly plead for more. You’re nervous that he’s going to keep teasing you and you’re pleasantly surprised when his tongue immediately licks through your folds.

He repeats that move a few times before his tongue starts to circle your clit. Your one hand moves to grip the curls on top of his head and your other reaches out next to you. Sarah sees the movement and holds your hand in her own, helping to ground you as waves of pleasure move through your body.

Harry takes his time eating you out, slowly working you up. He’s not quite teasing, but still not quite giving you enough to push you over the edge. Based on the sounds coming from Harry you don’t know who’s enjoying this more. For a moment your mind is clear enough to appreciate that this is the man who wrote Watermelon Sugar. But then a finger teases your entrance, and all thoughts leave you.

Harry pulls back and you pout at the loss.

“Y/N, look at me,” he says, and you immediately find his eyes. “Is this okay?” he asks as his finger continues to trace through your folds.

“Yes, absolutely, please,” you manage to say before he slides one finger inside, effectively taking your breath away and rendering you speechless. His fingers are thicker than Mitch or Sarah’s and the stretch when he slides a second in next to the first is more than you’re used to.

“Fuck,” he says. “So fucking tight.”

“She’ll need three to be ready for you,” Sarah says, remembering her own experience with Harry from the night before.

He nods to show he’s listening, but his eyes never turn away from watching his fingers repeatedly disappear inside of you. He scissors open his fingers in order to stretch you more before adding a third.

As he continues to pump his fingers you finally reopen your eyes to take in the full scene. Sarah is now laying down beside you and Mitch is kneeling between her legs. He’s gently stroking Sarah’s leg with one hand and his cock with the other. He seems to be doing both actions subconsciously, since he and Sarah are focusing on you and Harry next to them.

It’s intense, having two people watch you, especially when Harry slides his fingers out and lines his cock up with your entrance. You focus on him as he slides himself through your folds, coating himself in your wetness. But right before he pushes inside you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“What is it? Are you okay? Did I do something?” he worriedly asks.

“I’m fine,” you answer. “You’re fine. It’s Mitch.”

“What did I do baby?” Mitch asks from his spot next to Harry.

“You’ve got this look on your face. And it’s not a sexy look. It’s your concerned face. What has you worried?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something.”

“It’s just- I’m the only person you’ve been with. I know you. I know your limits.”

Harry shifts to face Mitch and say, “You trust me, right?”

“Of course I trust you,” Mitch replies.

“Then trust that I will always take care of our girls. Okay?”

“Okay. Just be gentle with her,” Mitch says quietly.

“Always,” Harry says before he pulls Mitch in for a kiss. When they break apart you’re happy to see Mitch’s expression is much more relaxed. He leans across to share a kiss with you and then there’s another minute or two where the four of you jumble together all exchanging kisses with one another.

When Harry is back in position above you, you say, “Just one more thing.”

“What do you need love?” Sarah asks.

“Can we all, uhm, do this together?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she replies.

You take a deep breath and say, “I want you and Mitch to have sex while Harry and I have sex.” Your face turns beet red as you speak your desires so explicitly, something you rarely do.

“You’re so cute when you’re all shy,” she says. “And of course we can do that. Don’t think I can wait much longer either.” She nuzzles into your neck before places kisses on your shoulder.

“I’m ready,” you say, meeting Harry’s eyes again.

“If you’re uncomfortable or want to stop any time, just tell me and we’ll stop,” Harry says.

“I know,” you reply before pulling him down to attach your lips to his. The kiss is immediately heated, and you moan as he bites your bottom lip. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue in, exploring your mouth. His fingers are back inside you, making sure you’re stretched and ready for him.

He pulls his fingers out and you watch as he wipes the slick still coated on them onto his cock. It’s a move so dirty that it sends another wave of desire through your now achingly empty core.

“Please, Harry, I’m ready. I need you,” you say as you swivel your hips slightly to draw his attention where you want it.

“I’m here, pet,” he says, and you feel the tip of his cock slide into you a second later. You gasp at the new feeling, and you hear sounds of pleasure from the other three as well. You smile knowing that you got your wish. You want to look beside you and see Mitch pushing into Sarah but at that moment Harry pushes in more and the stretch has you focusing solely on him.

You knew he was thicker than Mitch but holding them in your hands and having them inside you are two completely different things. There’s a slight burn you’re not quite used to, and you wince, just for a second. Harry, who is focusing all his attention on your reactions, notices the look and asks, “Doing okay lovey?”

You take a deep breath and smile before assuring him that you’re doing just fine. Mitch’s hand grabs yours and you look at the pair next to you. You look down at where Mitch and Sarah are connected, and that image, plus the blissed look on Sarah’s face, sends another wave of arousal through you. Harry groans as more wetness gushes onto his dick.

His eyes meet yours again and you place a hand on his back, encouraging him to keep going. Slowly, gently, he pushes until he is fully inside, completely wrapped in your warm, tight walls. He leans down, placing kisses on your neck, shoulder, chest, anywhere he can reach while he lets you adjust. Finally, you tell him you’re ready for more.

He pulls back so just the tip is inside before he thrusts in again. All four of you moan in unison and you open your eyes to see that Mitch is following Harry’s moves. It makes you feel more connected to everyone at the same time, knowing that you’re all experiencing the same pleasure.

The boys pick up their pace and Sarah pulls you in for a sloppy kiss. You break apart from her when Harry changes the angle, hitting that perfect spot inside you. He buries his face in your neck again and you feel him gently bite and suck at the sensitive skin there. You know he’s leaving marks that will require plenty of makeup to cover, but it feels so good that you don’t care.

Breathy whines and whispers of “please,” and “more” and “Harry” are all that is coming out of your mouth as you feel the increased tightening in your belly. Your breaths turn to pants and Harry brings his fingers to your clit. He rubs circles against the sensitive nub as he thrusts deeper and harder than before.

Your back arches and your loudest moan yet is pulled from you as you come, clenching around Harry’s length as though to trap him inside. His movements don’t stop, though they do become more erratic as he chases his high. His orgasm hits a moment after yours, and the feeling of his warm cum coating your insides has you seeing stars.

He slides out of you a moment later and you turn to watch Mitch and Sarah as you come down and catch your breath. They look beautiful like this, and you lean in to press kisses to Sarah’s neck while Harry slides a hand to her core, seeing as Mitch’s hand is still tightly wrapped in yours. Harry gives her the last bit of stimulation she needs to crash over the edge, and you both watch in awe as they beautifully fall part simultaneously.

You’re all still for a moment and Mitch checks in with each of you individually to make sure everyone is okay and happy. You assure him that you’re good, way more than good, and you bask in this moment.

Your face splits into a large grin, and then you can’t help but start to giggle. It’s contagious and suddenly the four of you are laughing, though no one’s entirely sure why.

You finally calm down enough to say, “I can’t believe this is my life.”

“Well, believe it baby,” Harry says. “Because we’re not going anywhere.”

“Good.” You reply, shifting everyone so that you’re laying across all three of them. With your head on Mitch’s chest, torso being held by Harry, and legs tangling with Sarah, you fall asleep.

Warm sunshine wakes you up the next morning. You stretch and are surprised to have so much room in bed. Only Harry is lying with you and one glance shows that he’s awake and smiling at you.

“Good morning,” you say.

“Good morning lovey,” he replies and leans down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. You shift up so you can kiss his cheek, and a moment later you find his lips against yours in a lazy morning make out.

Before things can go too far you pull back and ask, “Where are Mitch and Sarah?”

“They went for a walk on the beach,” Harry answers and slots his lips against yours again. After one more intense kiss he leans away and says, “We probably shouldn’t do more without the others here.”

“You’re right. I mean, it’s not realistic that we all be together for sex every time, but we should talk about it first. Set boundaries and expectations and everything,” you reply.

“Communication,” Harry states and you nod. “Speaking of communication,” he continues. “I wanted to check in after last night. How are you feeling?”

“I feel wonderful Harry. Really.”

“Yea? Not sore or anything? No regrets?”

“No regrets. You were perfect,” you reassure him.

You lapse into a comfortable silence before heading outside to have breakfast on the patio. Mitch and Sarah join you and the four talk more about the dynamics of the relationship, especially when it comes to the physical side.

Afterwards you walk inside but turn to look at the other three still on the patio. They’re smiling and joking around, and your heart melts at the love you hold for them.

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

Hope you enjoyed! Not sure yet which story I'll work on next or when it will be up, but there are some ideas & requests all swirling around in my brain.

Also, as much as I do love Harry and Mitch's new haircuts, they will always have Love on Tour era hair in my stories haha it's just how I'll always picture them

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305

#harry styles x reader #mitch rowland x harry styles #mitch rowland x reader #mitch rowland x sarah jones x reader #sarah jones x reader #sarah jones x mitch rowland x reader #harry styles fanfiction

[shubblelive]

— PAGES TURNED

summary : wilbur is a quiet guy, but there’s so much more to him than he shows. over swapped shifts, post it notes and paperback novels, you unravel him bit by bit.

genre : fluff

warnings : mentions of alcohol/drinking

pairing : musicianbur x fem!librarian! reader

pronouns : none (i think) reader is described as a “girl” and using other feminine descriptors

featuring : cc!wilbur soot, musicianbur, college!librarian! wilbur

word count : 2.6k

note : sorry this took. one million years. i had my exams and i turned 17, and then i went out of state to visit family, but i’ve had this in my drafts and i’ve been working on and off for a while. i hope you enjoy this, i’m thinking about maybe making it multi part? if people are into that? @starsyoubreaklikesugardust <333

You sincerely regret covering for your coworker. The campus library has a consistent, albeit small, staff. You work the same days every week; Monday morning, Tuesday afternoon and Thursday morning. The head librarian, Theresa, was more than willing to give you extra shifts whenever you needed. The library was where most of the richer students’ parents donated, and you were insanely lucky to get your job there. As a result of the consistent schedule, you work with two people regularly; Henry, who shares your major, and Janine, who’s one of the sweetest people you know. The rest of your coworkers, you knew exclusively through Theresa and her insistence of having staff get togethers at any opportunity.

There’s Chastity, who lives on your floor, and her girlfriend Kate. You got a front row seat to their first kiss after three months of egging them on with Janine at Henry’s 20th birthday. There are three more workers that work during the week on alternating shifts to you; Sam, the newest member of the term; Hae-Won, the only person who had worked there longer than you and Theresa; and Wilbur.

Wilbur, who was currently your new coworker as you started working five days a week. Hae-Won’s mother was sick, and Theresa had begged you to cover for them while they flew interstate to go take care of her. You’d been working at the campus library since you were a freshman, and they’d always been good to you. You had agreed, and now you were needing to rush from class to the library after every single one of your lectures. Sam, Henry and Theresa had all assured you that if you were late because of class you wouldn’t lose your job, but you felt bad leaving them with all the work.

Wilbur has barely spoken a word to you since you’d started working the same shifts. He’s not rude or angry, just quiet as far as you can tell. You like him. You both keep to yourselves, and Wilbur doesn’t snitch on you for smuggling your sandwiches out of the office when you browse the stacks during your breaks.

He doesn’t get mad at you for being late when you are, and he always puts stuff on the top shelf whenever you ask. He’s soft, and incredibly smart. You learn about him through hushed evenings in the office, both of you dead on your feet after you’ve locked the doors, neither of you wanting to leave quite yet. The low light gives his eyes an amber glow the same colour as sun as it peeks through the slats in the blinds of the office, surrounded on all four sides by large windows. The fishbowl, the kids call it when they come in on Friday afternoons. Not quite, you think. You’re both too boring to be fish, you make a joke when you hear a young boy say it. Wilbur gets a look in his eyes that he keeps for the next hour until you confront him. “Sometimes people don’t look a fish ‘cause they’re interesting,” he all-but whispers when you ask, eyes aglow and top row of teeth pulling on his bottom lip. “Sometimes they’re just pretty.”

You get to know Wilbur over campus coffees, and handmade bookmarks inspired by the paperbacks he checks out every week. Through his handwritten post-it note on the corner of the main monitor at the front desk, a stack of books with a cat perched on top, his writing slanted but mainly kept between the spines of each book. A request for a novel you’ve never heard of, but vow to search for. Theresa is the one who handles incoming books, but that’s not going to stop you from finding it yourself.

You begin to find those sticky-notes around more and more. There’s one resting on top of your backpack for you to find as you return from the bathroom. That’s a pretty skirt, the first one says. You should wear your hair like that more often, one three days later on the stack of returns he’s asked you to reshelve. There’s one a week after that forces a smile on your face. This made me think of you. It’s resting on a tiny journalist style notebook, one where you flip on the top. It’s got a quote from your favourite novel on it, and you slip the sticky note inside it gingerly, tucking it into the front pocket of your backpack. That afternoon during your lunch break, you go to the craft store instead of staying in and get yourself some post it notes. Yours are in the shape of a lemon, and when Wilbur goes into the fishbowl to grab his stuff once your shift is over, he finds one stuck to the side of his bag. Two words, ten numbers, all in your handwriting. Call me.

So he does, he calls you that very night. Despite the late time, you guys stay on the phone for nearly three hours. The next shift you two share, you tease him. “I thought you were meant to be the quiet type,” you giggle as his ears turn pink, him intentionally facing away from you to shield the smitten grin on his face as he pretends to write something on the staff calendar. “You had a lot to say the other night.”

It continues that way for a while, nightly phone calls in which you finally get to hear him talk unabashedly about the things he’s interested in. He’s in a band, he confesses shyly one night when you’re both on the verge of sleep. You don’t reply for a second, and he thinks you might have dozed off. You pipe up after a moment, voice heavy with sleep and Wilbur thinks he can’t possibly like you more. “Your first gig’s Saturday, right?” He nods, even if you can’t see him. You keep going anyway. “I’ll be there.”

He wishes you hadn’t told him, because he spends the next three days stressing. Performing always makes him a little anxious, a healthy amount of butterflies, as his friends say. But this is too much. He changes his shirt three times on Saturday night, twice because he wants you to like it, and another time because he sweated through the third one. He blames it on the intensity of the lights, when the drummer asks him if he’s okay, but they can all see the way his eyes are locked onto your frame, tucked into a little corner of the underground bar they’re playing. They play for about forty minutes, and you’re a little embarrassed to admit that you’ve never heard a single song they did.

Wilbur goes into the little backstage area after their last song, and his bandmates will swear he’s never moved so fast in his life. He’s chugging a bottle of water while trying to wrestle his guitar off his back, his glasses fogged up from the sweat covering his face. there are a few bothersome strands sticking to his cheeks, but he doesn’t care about that. He just wants to see you.

He gets to your corner and the table is empty. No, the table has things on it. Your chair is empty. There is something on the table. He reaches it and flops down into the chair you were just sitting in. A waitress brings him a glass of lemonade that you ordered for him and he gulps it down gratefully. He allows himself a few moments to bask in the post-show high. You might not be there, but that only brought his mood down slightly. He did it.

He is a little hurt that you didn’t stick around, but it’s nearing 10 and he knows you have a test on Monday. He takes another long swig of his drink, and reaches blindly for the one other object on the table; a paperback novel. It’s his favourite. He didn’t even remember telling you it was his favourite, but somehow you knew. His heart hammers inside his chest and he has to remember how to breathe for a second. He’d looked everywhere for that, even going as far as to see if he could order it online.

He flips open the cover, just to check, and he finds a scrawled message beneath the title page. Heard you were hoping to get your hands on one. I hope you enjoy. You’ll have to tell me all about it.

And he does. It takes him less than a week to read the entire book, and he comes to you on a random Thursday, eyes sparkling with a glint you’ve only ever seen that one night he was performing, and he leans over the front desk where you’re standing and before you can even process it he’s taking your head in his hands and pulling you into a firm hug. You’re not as tall, so you’re on your toes as you lean over the desk, struggling to wrap your arms around his torso as he hugs you.

And then he’s talking, loud and clear, and if the library was open people would be giving him dirty looks for how unashamedly he’s speaking to you. You revel in it. He keeps his hands enclosing yours and you lean over the desk to get as close to him as you can, wanting to absorb every single word out of his mouth. Wanting to breathe it in and keep it between your ribs.

Eventually he lets you go to go do some work, but you decide at that moment that you never want him to shut up again.

So, he doesn’t. With constant encouragement from you, Wilbur becomes more outspoken. Of course, there were the phone calls, but he was still reserved in person. He seems to take up more space over the next few weeks, unfurling slowly like an old painting, perfectly preserved with so much beauty to show once he was out in the open. It starts as small things, the way he calls out to you across the library after closing instead of approaching you to tell you softly. You’re almost in mourning, feeling like you’d lost that closeness with Wilbur that only you seem to have. The notion that once you put something out into the world it no longer belongs to you. Not that he ever did, not like that at least.

You’d feel like that and then Wilbur would do something so small, so sacred, that your heart would ache. Whispering jokes in your ear, fingers brushing yours when he passes you a book he thinks you’ll enjoy, grabbing onto both of your hands when he got so excited about something that he needed a physical tether to you to stop himself from floating away, into the air that he was now filling so wonderfully.

The others started noticing it too; Theresa mentioning to you how much more confident he seemed after he’d left the room, Sam, who brightened now that Wilbur seemed to return his enthusiasm, even the bassist of Wilbur’s band, who you ran into at a coffee shop, said he was different.

His band got another gig at a bigger bar, and of course you were invited again. This time you planned on sticking around for the whole thing, letting him wrap you in a sweaty hug once he ran off stage. “You were so good,” you gush, your breath on his ear sending shivers down his spine. His hands ghost up and down your arm, and you can’t bring yourself to let go of him. “But, Wil. Seriously, enough is enough.”

He pulls away just enough to get a clear picture of your face, shadows covering one side, the dim lighting in the venue not doing enough to take away from just how pretty you look.

“You guys need to start playing songs I know the words to.”

Your fake annoyance makes him laugh, one of the most genuine laughs you’ve ever heard from him. Warm, and thick, like caramel. Like his eyes when the two of you are huddled together in the fishbowl and he’s laughing, like there will never be enough time to spend with you. Because there isn’t.

His hands stop in their motions, and he notices your bare arms. “You’re freezing, lovely. Here.” He steps away from you and shrugs off his button up, leaving him in just a white-sleeved tee as he guides your arms in. The sleeves cover your hands and he goes as far as to roll them up delicately. His face is an inch from yours as he unwraps his hands from your wrist, and your fingers toy gently with a stray curl that bounces when you release it from your grip.

This time it’s you who takes Wilbur’s jaw in your hands, fingers running over his stubble. He’s drunk, hasn’t had a drop of alcohol the entire time, but well and truly intoxicated as he pulls you into him again, nose pressed to your hairline. “I’m so proud of you.” You mumble into his shoulder, and for a second, time is frozen.

You’re both brought out of it by rousing cheers from Wilbur’s bandmates, the guitarist and drummer both bullying Wilbur for not introducing you to them earlier. The bassist greets you warmly, and the three of them try to convince you both to go out for a drink. Wilbur’s the one who ends up ushering you out, arm around your shoulders as he placates his bandmates. Throwing a “We’ve got an early morning tomorrow at work,” over his shoulder as he steered you towards his car.

He’s only half lying. You do both have work the next day, however the library’s closed and Theresa’s hosting a party to thank everyone for their hard work. It starts at two, so you’re revelling in the fact that you get to sleep in. That doesn’t stop you from inviting Wilbur up to your apartment, though. Nor does it stop the two of you deciding to watch a movie together on the couch in your living room. It doesn’t even stop Wilbur from whispering to you while the credits roll. “You look so lovely tonight.” You flush, tearing your eyes from his face, looking down at where his hands are on your waist instead. “Can I kiss you?”

It definitely doesn’t stop you from nodding your head emphatically, your hands delving into his hair as he presses his lips to yours for the first time.

He tastes like spearmint gum and the mango of your lip gloss, his hands steadying you both and gripping onto the couch cushion. He pulls away just enough to murmur, “You’re wonderful,” and suddenly you’re so happy you’re laughing. He laughs too, taking your head in his hands until you’re kissing him again, and when he leaves nearly two hours later he’s gripping your hands so tight your breath hitches, promising he’ll see you at the party later.

And hours later, when you’re sipping on lemonade and leaning against one of the windows of the fishbowl, he sidles up to you and leans his head on top of yours. “My pretty girl.” Your hand wraps around his, and the two of you stand there for a few minutes in a comfortable silence, watching your coworkers mingle. He’d never been so outward in his affections, not when surrounded by people you both worked with. He was a reserved man, preferring to let loose around his family, his bandmasters, and you. But of course, that doesn’t stop him from pressing a kiss to your hairline, the two of you inside the library office, gazing outside into the rest of the library. “So so pretty.”

#em needs to shush sometimes #wilbur soot #wilbuh #wilbur #wilbur soot x fem!reader #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot x reader fluff #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x you #wilbur fluff

[ihni]

(On AO3)

Billy was already waiting by the mailbox when the postman came. It was the third day in a row he was standing there, and today the mailman just raised his eyebrows as he handed Billy a small stack of envelopes. Billy didn’t do more than grunt in thanks before he started rifling through the letters. There were bills addressed to his dad, one letter that looked like an offer to start a magazine subscription for Susan – and nothing for Billy. As usual.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath and went inside to prepare for work. He was alone in the house – Neil and Susan had left for work already and since it was summer, Max was already out, hanging with her friends. Billy worked the late shift at the pool this week, which was why he had time to wait by the mailbox. And after that, by the phone.

At five to eleven, the phone rang, just like he knew it would.

“Hey,” Steve said, voice sounding tinny and far away. Which was fair, since he was all the way over in Europe. “Nothing yet?”

“Nope,” Billy confirmed and chewed on his lip. “Maybe … maybe it got lost on the way?” A groan came down the line. If Billy closed his eyes he could imagine the way Steve would be pulling at his hair right about now. “Maybe it’s just late. Who knows how long it takes to deliver mail from Italy to Indiana, anyway?”

“I’ve been here for four weeks,” Steve said. “And I sent it the first week. Grandma says that it usually takes a week, two tops. It should have gotten there by now.”

Billy bit his lip and winced. It should.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, voice more subdued. “I never should have sent it. I wasn’t thinking.”

Billy sighed. They’d had this discussion before, the first of which was when Steve let him know that he’d sent a raunchy letter with accompanying polaroid pictures in the mail. Billy had almost had a heart attack when he heard. He had been quick to exchange all his shifts at the pool to the late ones, even though there was more to do then than in the mornings. He did it just so he could ensure he was the one who picked up the mail, so he would be able to take the letter before anyone else saw it. Because he knew that if his dad found a letter that had been sent from overseas and which was addressed to Billy, he wouldn’t hesitate to open it first to check what it was. And if he found pictures of Billy’s boyfriend’s dick … well. Billy would be dead.

“I know,” he said. He knew that Steve was sorry, and worried. He’d taken to calling every day around this time on weekdays, when he knew that Billy would be home alone – and that his dad wouldn’t be there. “Maybe it’ll show up tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Steve murmured. “We’re leaving for home on Monday. At this pace, I’ll be home before the letter!”

“That’s better anyway,” Billy decided. “I prefer the real thing to a picture any day.”

Despite his attempt at flirting, he was still worried. For every day that passed without the letter showing up, Billy got more and more tense. He wouldn’t be able to be the first one to the mailbox every day, and if his dad got his hands on it …

He shook the unease off and said his goodbye to his boyfriend, who promised to call again the next day. After that he went through the pile of mail one more time – just in case he’d missed the airmail letter, somehow – before putting it in a neat pile on the kitchen table, and gathering his things before leaving for work.

It was a warm and sunny day, which meant there were a lot of people at the pool. A lot of loud and obnoxious people, ranging from the kids who ran rampant along the pool’s edge to their parents, who seemed to be there only to ogle the lifeguards. Billy had a headache by the time he finally got to lock up and go home, which didn’t even lessen when he turned the volume of his car stereo down low while driving.

When he got back to the house, he parked on the driveway and sighed as he got out of the Camaro, mentally preparing himself for a mediocre dinner in the Hargrove household. His head shot up when he heard someone call his name.

“Billy?”

It was Mr. Peterson, their elderly neighbor. He was waving to Billy from behind his fence, a friendly smile on his wrinkly face.

Billy internally groaned. Mr. Peterson was approximately a hundred years old (slight exaggeration, but he was old-old) and could talk forever if one didn’t manage to weasel out of it fast. Neil would be pissed if Billy was late for dinner – but then again, he would be pissed if Billy wasn’t polite to their neighbors, too. So, plastering a smile onto his face, Billy walked up to the fence.

“Hi, Mr. Peterson. How are you today?”

“Oh good, Billy, good. The joints are creaking as usual, but besides that I’m just fine, thank you,” Mr. Peterson said, and Billy prepared himself for what was bound to be a fifteen-minute monologue about the man’s bad hip. Which is why it was so surprising that he cut straight to the chase. “I was wondering if you could help me with something?” Billy looked back towards his house, hesitating. Mr. Peterson seemed to sense it, because he was quick to assure, “It’ll only be a couple of minutes.”

Neil always preached how important it was to have good relationships with one’s neighbors, so he wouldn’t be able to fault Billy for helping an old man out. “Yeah, of course,” Billy therefore said and walked around the fence and into the man’s yard. “What can I do for you?”

“Follow me, please.”

Mr. Peterson led Billy to the house, and in through the front door. Billy had never been inside the old man’s house before, and stopped on the welcome mat in the hall and looked around. It seemed to be a typical old-person home. Smelled musty, and a little bit like smoke, with yellowed wallpaper and a lot of framed photographs on the walls.

Mr. Peterson went to a wooden dresser that was pushed up against one of the walls, and opened the top drawer to pull out –

Shit.

– an airmail letter. An opened airmail letter.

“I got this in the mail a couple of days ago,” Mr. Peterson said, holding the envelope up so Billy could see it better. It had Steve’s chickenscratch handwriting on it, and was addressed to ‘Billy Hargrove’.

Shit shit shit.

Not noticing – or maybe not caring about – Billy’s rising panic, Mr. Peterson continued, “The mailman must have gotten our mail mixed up, or read the number wrong. I’m sorry to say that I didn’t read the address properly before opening it – my eyesight isn’t what it used to be, you see, and I have friends in Europe so I thought it was from one of them.” Billy only barely heard him through the sound of rushing in his ears. “And, well. I didn’t notice until I’ve already opened it that it … that it was probably not meant for me.”

He looked up and looked into Billy’s eyes for the first time since he’d picked up the letter, raising one white bushy eyebrow. Billy was frozen in fear. He knew what was in that letter – Steve had told him – and it was incriminating, to say the least. If Mr. Peterson had told anyone, or shown anyone – god, if he told Billy’s dad, he’d –

“Breathe, son,” Mr. Peterson said, not unkindly, and put a wrinkly hand on Billy’s shoulder, pretending like he didn’t notice when Billy flinched. Which was silly. Billy could take him; Mr. Peterson was a head shorter than Billy, and ancient.

But he also knew.

“I, I … I don’t know what …” Billy didn’t know how to continue that sentence, so it was lucky that Mr. Peterson took that opportunity to start talking again.

“Did you know that I fought in the First World War?” The non sequitur had Billy’s mind reeling. He did know that – Neil had told the family as soon as he found out, proud to be living in a neighborhood of war veterans – but he couldn’t form words at the moment. Mr. Peterson reached out to one of the picture frames on the wall and pointed at it. It was a grainy black and white picture of five men, posing in front of a restaurant. “This was taken fifteen years after the war ended. We – the ones out of my friends who survived – got together again, to … catch up, and all that.”

Billy still didn’t know what this had to do with anything. He eyed the letter in the old man’s hand, and wondered if he would be able to snatch it and make a run for it. But no. No, then Neil would definitely find out.

“This is Joe,” Mr. Peterson said and tapped his finger against the glass, showing a grinning man wearing a hat. “Joseph. He was my friend.” At this, he gave Billy a significant look. “My special friend.”

Billy stopped breathing, and blinked while the word filtered into his brain. Mr. Peterson couldn’t be insinuating what Billy thought he was insinuating, right?

The old man took Billy’s hand in his and, smiling, pressed the airmail letter with Steve’s handwriting on it into Billy’s palm. Billy’s fingers closed on it out of instinct. It was thicker than an ordinary letter, and he could feel the polaroids through the thin paper of the envelope.

Mr. Peterson didn’t let go of his hand, though. He patted their joined hands with his other hand and made sure to look Billy in the eye as he said, “Love is love, son. I know that better than most. And no matter where you find it, you should consider yourself lucky to have it.”

Billy’s vision was getting blurry, and he let out a shuddering breath. “Mr. Peterson …”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Mr. Peterson said. His voice was gentle, as if he was trying not to spook a skittish animal.

Billy could do nothing but nod. He couldn’t feel his face, but he was pretty sure that he was either stark white or tomato red. Mr. Peterson gently guided him to the door and patted him on the arm as he opened the door.

“Thank you for your help, young man,” he said. “Don’t be a stranger, now.”

Billy took a couple of steps out on the porch, but then stopped and turned around. He could hardly believe what had just happened. When he looked at the old man in the doorway, he looked at him with new eyes, and a new understanding. This man, their elderly neighbor – the war veteran that Neil actually respected – he was like Billy?

“I’m …” Billy started, but again couldn’t find words. “Thank you.”

Mr. Peterson just smiled, and nodded to the letter in Billy’s hand. “That boy? You’re lucky to have him. He seems like a keeper.” Billy nodded, still in shock. And that’s when Mr. Peterson leaned forward and added, in a lower voice and with a mischievous glint in his eye, “Big dick too. Joe’s was smaller, but boy did he know how to use it.”

@harringrove-flip-reverse-it

#harringrove flip reverse it #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #ihni writes #mr. peterson next door

[authurials]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ... 2/5

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 . aemond had never allowed himself to covet--not until now that is

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 . one / three / four / five

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 . 18+ situations ( MINORS DNI ! ), unintentional voyeurism, solo masturbation, accidental exhibitionism, strong language

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . here is day four of my 12 days of house of the dragon celebration and part two of my aemond targaryen x f!reader miniseries! things are heating up between the two would-be-lovers already and we still have three parts to go. what do you think is going to happen next? i’ve decided to take the day off tomorrow from writing and posting so i can recharge a bit after a particularly exhausting week of work--i also have some last minute christmas shopping to do AND other errands so i’m feeling a tad overwhelmed; this does mean my helaena one-shot has been dropped from the lineup but i’ve decided to revamp the idea and write it at a later date when i feel more inspired to write for my girl. on sunday you’ll be getting part two to my harwin x reader miniseries, candy cane! so be sure to stay tuned and let me know your thoughts on what you’ve read so far; also, finished this right around midnight but i’m still counting it for the 16th lmao

𝐏𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 . white rose

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒 tucked into the waist pocket of your apron, a delightfully pinkish red camelia that you had found on one of the garden benches during your usual rounds. One might just assume that it had happened upon the stone bench in an act of nature, but you knew better–you knew it had been put there specifically for you. The camelia was only one of many you had been happening across for nearly a fortnight, starting with the lily of the valley in your chamber. Since then you had received some azaleas, baby’s breath, begonias, and your favorite, bleeding hearts; there were others as well, each placed carefully in a beautiful arrangement on your bedside table. Some were beginning to wilt from lack of sunshine while the newer ones still had a few days left in them, their sweet smelling scents mingling perfectly together like their own brand of perfume. At first, you had assumed it was one of the younger gardeners under your father leaving you the flowers or perhaps one of the hedge knights that frequented the grounds trying to secure patronage in the capital. None of them had quite caught your eye as a potential secret admirer however, at most they merely threw polite smiles your way before they moved along and out of your life forever.

As you passed a handsome bronze-haired boy, you instinctively glanced over your shoulder to assess his form, catching his eye as he did the same. Again, there was that polite smile as he nodded his head in acknowledgement, simply turning to face forward once more as he continued on his way. Sighing, you did the same, not having felt anything when you took note of the color of his eyes or the dimple in his cheek. He was quite good-looking, you would admit, but there was no resounding connection that stayed with you as you carried on about your rounds in the garden. No, you would be able to tell if you happened upon your secret admirer whether that be by chance or on purpose; you knew he would reveal himself eventually, why wouldn’t he? But you couldn’t deny that you were a bit impatient to know who it was.

Thoughts consumed with flowers and speculation, you took no note of the fact that you had an extra shadow on that day; not far behind you, separated from your person by a thick row of blooming pale pink carnations, walked a certain one-eyed prince. Making sure to stay enough behind you so that you wouldn’t take easy note of his presence, Aemond followed you with his hands folded behind his back; singular eye locked on you, a slight smirk curved his lips as he took in your dreamy expression. You softened in his absence, no longer cold and guarded as you walked the familiar tended paths of the royal garden; and each day since the lily of the valley, he had come to watch you if only for a short time before tending to his other duties–if only to assure himself that you’d received his latest gift. And sure enough he saw the newest bloom he had picked earlier in the dew-lit morning peeking out of the pocket of your apron skirt, its petal bobbing gently with each step you took. The camelia had called to him that day, a symbol of his growing affections for the sharp-tongued and quick-witted girl who had beguiled him with her boldness–with her audacity.

He wanted to break you, to have you desire him as he desired you–a fire so intense that it was maddening, an obsession that if left unchecked threatened to consume him completely. As a boy it had been but a childish sort of like, a pointless crush that he had forgotten about until the moment he saw you again. Never had he dared to hope, to dream, to covet such a thing that was supposed to be below him–not until now; now all he did was covet and desire as he followed you deeper into the gardens, your path clearly taking you to the greenhouse and workshop your father kept. When you were children you would take him there after much convincing on your part and show off all the new seedlings your father was trying to grow so he could incorporate them into the gardens; most were incredibly rare specimens, shipped all the way from Pentos and Essos and perhaps even further. You’d prattled off all that your father had told you about them, eidetic memory storing such information as if it were a precious tome that needed safe-keeping, all the while gripping tightly to Aemond’s hand with your small sweaty one. It had disgusted him at times, but for some reason he rarely found it in himself to pull away, especially when you would look over your shoulder at him with that crooked smile.

Stopping where the row of carnations ended, Aemond watched you continue on without him, not a care in the world as you hummed a melancholy tune; just as you were about to disappear from his view, he took note of the way you plucked the camelia from your pocket, head turning just enough to the side so he saw how you lifted it to your nose to sniff it. Smirk widening, he backed away slowly and turned to leave, assured that his plan was taking proper effect. All he needed to do now was reveal himself to you as your ‘secret admirer’--he knew you had been searching, eyes thoughtful as of late as you would take in your surroundings, waiting for your faceless would-be-lover to reveal himself. You were ready to know, that he was certain of, he just needed to set the scene appropriately before revealing himself to you–

But first, he had other less interesting obligations to attend to courtesy of his ever helpless family.

Leaving the gardens, he headed to the Tower of the Hand where his mother and grandfather were supposed to be awaiting his arrival. He knew he was late and usually that was unfounded for him–always the responsible one, the dutiful son, the wasted potential of a second born prince; however for once he could not find it in himself to care, as duty had become tasteless in his mouth, his mother’s praise and love no longer enough to satiate himself upon. He wanted–no, needed–more and he was determined to see himself filled no matter the cost.

He was let into his mother’s solar by Ser Criston Cole, who ever dutifully bowed his head to his star pupil; unlike the other times when he would’ve respectfully nodded back to his mentor, Aemond averted his eyes and simply gave a tense bow of his head as he moved past the Dornish man. He did not miss the way the older man frowned in confusion, dark gaze following him into his grandfather’s solar before closing the door once more. The Targaryen prince, although firm in his intentions, could not help but feel a bit guilty knowing that his newfound selfishness would disappoint the man who had been more of father to him then his own ever had. He had looked up to kingsguard his whole life, admiring the honorable way in which the man protected and respected his mother unlike the other men in her life who had neglected to do so; if Aemond had not known any better he would’ve said Criston was in love with the queen, but he did know better and knew with a certainty that the relationship between the knight and his mother ran no deeper than a shared fondness and treasured friendship. It made the young man feel guilty because in a way he was betraying the rapport he had created thus far with his teacher, years of trust diminished in the short period of time it had taken Aemond to cast away the virtue of duty for the sin of lust.

“Mother,” he greeted respectfully, bowing once more to the pious woman who sat stiffly as always in the area by the lit fireplace; nearer to the hearth stood his grandfather, who greeted his grandson with a nod and his name. “Grandfather. You both wanted to see me?”

He already had his suspicions before Otto even opened his mouth, having known for months what the man and the other small council members were plotting behind his and his father’s own backs. Viserys was too weak to really be coherent of much of anything at this point, kept numb and docile by copious amounts of milk of the poppy; he hadn’t been of use for quite some time, Aemond’s grandfather and mother taking up in his stead to rule things as they saw fit–hiding behind the guise of doing the king’s bidding. It was quite hard to do his bidding when the decaying corpse of man couldn’t even string together a full sentence, instead speaking in a broken language one often had to decode–Aemma and Rhaenyra among some of his favorite words. Aemond resisted the urge to curl his lip in disgust as he listened to what Otto had to say, though he was already calculating his rebuttal in his head.

“Your mother and I have been discussing it with the small council,” the older man hummed, “and we believe it is high time you were engaged to marry. We’ve already begun discussions with Lord Borros Baratheon in regards to one of his four lovely daughters–”

“And what if I do not wish to marry?” Was Aemond’s reply, hands folding behind his back as he glanced between his grandfather and mother, who had already begun to pick nervously at her hands as she formulated her response carefully.

“Aemond,” she begun, “we understand these things are not always desirable but–”

“But it is your duty to the family to secure a good match,” Otto interjected, “and garner more support for your brother’s claim.”

Of course, Aemond thought bitterly to himself, it is always about that drunk’s claim. But what of my own?

He studied the histories and philosophies of their predecessors, he practiced the art of the sword, he had sacrificed time and time again for his family; but still, his efforts would forever be only those of a second born son, a curse in and of itself–a constant mark against his person no matter how hard he tried to escape his destiny. Had it ever crossed any of their mind’s that he might make a better fit for king than his older brother? Who other than the fact of being born first was even more ill-suited for the crown than their whoring cunt of a half-sister or her brood of bastards. Aemond was sure that it had, but due to damnable tradition he would forever be passed over for Aegon, just as he had when Helaena and his brother were betrothed; he had had no desire to marry his sister, but he would’ve done it if only to ensure she was not doomed to a loveless and cruel marriage to that drunkard.

“Your grandfather is right,” Alicent nodded, standing up from her spot on the settee. “We will need Lord Borros’ support and to ensure it we have to create a strong alliance. The man’s father might have sworn to Rhaenyra, but that was years ago and it is my understanding that the man is less concerned with hollow oaths and more concerned with seeing his daughters to profitable martial matches. What better one than that of a prince?”

“I do not wish to marry one of the storms, mother,” Aemond frowned. “Besides, it is my understanding that they take after their father in both looks and intellect; I’d rather not have my future children be burdened with dull minds and plain faces.”

“Aemond!” The queen admonished.

“I merely–” Aemond began to defend himself.

“Enough,” Otto snapped, mouth set in a firm line. “You stand there and insult Lord Borros and his daughters, one of which will be your betrothed. It is foolish of you to believe that you have any say in the matter; you will do as your mother and I have bid you for your father–the king–has already given his blessing to the offer. We simply wished to let you know as a courtesy before sending word to the Stormlands.”

A pause and then a laugh–

Aemond tossed back his hair, chuckle passing through the column of his throat and vibrating there as he smiled amusedly at his grandfather. The other man’s frown deepened and he took a step forward as if to further reprimand his grandson, perhaps he even intended to put his hands on Aemond. Alicent, ever the level-headed one, placed her hand on her father’s arm as her lips pressed into a thin line, worry etched forever in the plains of her forehead.

“Aemond–” She began softly.

“You are the foolish one, grandfather,” he cut her off, laughter dying out as he continued, “if you believe that you can tell a dragon what to do; you have power because we allow you to not based on your own merit, though I will commend you for your cleverness and confidence.”

“How dare you–” Otto snapped.

“No,” Aemond shot back, taking a dangerous step forward as his hands fell to his side, clenched into readied fists. “How dare you think you could go behind my back and decide my fate for me! How dare you lecture me about duty and sacrifice as if I have no idea what it means to bleed for this family?! I have already given so much–my mind, my sword, my eye–and still it is not enough for you?”

He laughed again, this time more cruelly as he backed away and paced across the room, eyes once more finding Criston’s who remained by the door. The latter had a disapproving frown on his lips–of course he did; the man was just as chained to the concept of duty as Aemond had found himself to be not that long ago. To him and the others–Aemond’s mother and grandfather–he was foolish to believe that one’s wishes should trump that of obligation and perhaps at one point the prince himself believed that to be so as well. But not anymore–not when he was so close to tasting the forbidden fruit he had denied himself for so long–

Not when he almost had you, his flower.

“Let us speak civilly about this, Aemond,” his mother urged, walking over to his side and reaching for his hand. “I know that it does not always feel like your efforts have been recognized, but know that they have and that I am grateful for your dedication to this family. Aemond–”

She paused when he pulled his hand away, turning his body to the side so that he did not have to look at her directly, the set of his jaw tense as he turned his head to the side to let her know he was at least still listening.

“You have always been so….agreeable,” she continued, trying to find the right words, “when it came to what has been expected of you in the past. What has changed, my dear boy?”

He could not tell her, not yet when things were still in motion and he did not have you fully yet; there was still the chance, however slim he hoped it to be, that you would reject him and he would not be made a fool to you and his family if that were to happen. Even absent his desire for you the repulsion he felt at the prospect of marrying one of the Baratheon daughters did not waver; he had never met them nor did he have any wish to do so, not wanting to give any of them the false hope that they might be able to bewitch a dragon. It was too late for him anyways, after all he had fallen under your spell long ago.

“Perhaps,” he found himself saying, finally glancing between his pale faced grandfather and his mother who now worried her bottom lip between both rows of her teeth, “I simply do not wish to be an animal caged in a loveless and dull marriage as I have seen my loved one subjected to.”

It was a dig at the sham of the unions of first his mother and father and now his brother and sister; both pairs forced into proximity to one another in an act of his grandfather to secure Hightower blood on the throne. Aemond knew his mother held no love for his father, not as a wife should a husband anyways, and perhaps Aegon and Helaena could’ve cared for each other as siblings if they had not been used as pawns by those who should’ve protected them. And now the pieces were moving across the board once more, and it was Aemond’s turn to be sent forward as fodder for his grandfather’s ambitions.

“Perhaps,” he adds, the hint of a smile curving his lips, “I have found something that I desire more than your fleeting approval for once, mother.”

He had always known her love was conditional, that to be the golden son in her eyes one must forgo their own happiness; but even that was no longer enough for the queen it seemed as she grew desperate to secure her eldest son’s claim to a throne he had no business sitting upon. No matter what Aemond did he would never have her favor, he would never be enough, because he was a second son and that’s all he ever would be.

It was time that he accepted that.

Without another word, he turned to leave, striding towards the door even as Alicent called after him tearfully, shaking hand coming up to cover her quivering mouth. His grandfather’s voice joined her, demanding that he stop and even commanding Criston make him, but for once the knight defied orders and instead simply bowed his head to the prince as he strode past; there seemed to be something in his eyes akin to understanding, as if he too understood what it was to be held in limbo between desire and duty.

And perhaps he had; as Aemond opened the door to his mother’s solar and walked through, he recalled something Criston had said to him many years ago–about how he had once coveted something that he could not have and how filled with too much pride he had rejected the only way in which to possess it–

A choice he did not regret until many years too late.

Aemond refused to have such regrets hanging over his head.

•°•❀•°•

𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 tucked under a white rose in your bedroom again, wanting to ensure that it would not be disturbed by just any passerby nosy enough to pick it up. It read as follows: meet me in the east private gardens when the moon is highest in the sky. Simple enough. And it gave him enough time to rid himself of the residual anger that still pulse through his blood, thrumming most prominently at the vein in his neck. With no other obligations–at least ones he wasn’t willing to snub–he found himself spending the rest of the day avoiding the gardens in exchange for the quiet of the library. He did not want to risk running into you before you saw his note and came to the garden to meet your faceless secret admirer that night; fearful he was that you might see the truth upon his face somehow and the big reveal would be ruined.

It was terribly romantic, or at least he thought so as he settled into a secluded section with a book he had already read two or three times before. His mind was not of the disposition that day to retain any new information, hyperfocused on the task at hand; he obsessed over every possible outcome as his eyes skimmed over the words, not really taking them in as he tried to prepare himself for any possible scenario. What would he do if you truly did reject him? He didn’t believe himself to be a broken hearted type, but it would surely gut him in some way if you held not even the slightest inclination towards him. Or on the other, what would he do if you did end up holding a desire similar to his own? He was not well versed when it came to concerns of the flesh, though he found himself more often than not as of late imagining what coupling with you would be like if he were to be presented with the chance.

His singular sexual experience was one he would rather forget–a forced-upon-him trip to the Street of Silk courtesy of Aegon and his wiles. It had been to make him a man–at least that’s how his brother had rationalized it afterwards, when a three and ten Aemond had stumbled out of the brothel the next day, fleeing as Aegon tried to keep him. Time to get it wet, that is what he had said as he clapped the younger boy on the back the night before, guiding him towards the establishment’s offerings; words that haunted the prince to this day and to which he tried his best to push away in that moment, instead replacing them with happier thoughts of you.

Sighing, he closed his book and laid it against his chest, leaning his head back as he closed his eyes; he thought of the small, coy smile you had given him that day in the garden when he had confronted you after all those years. It alone aroused something inside of him in its memory, fire only fueled as he continued to recall more details of you on that day. The dress you wore had been plain, the uniform red of a royal servant, a white robe dirtied by the work in the gardens thrown over it; your hair had been bound, pulled away from your face aside from a few rebellious strands that he didn’t know whether he wanted to fist and pull at or tuck behind your ear in a gesture of tenderness. The glint in your eye; the curve of your lips, the silhouette of your figure–

Shifting uncomfortably, Aemond began to feel the familiar tightening in his leathers, cursing internally as he sighed and ran a hand over his face. Never before had he been the type to so spontaneously harden at the mere thought of a pretty girl; it was not unfounded completely, no, but nor had it been as frequent as it had of late. He of course blamed you and his lack of self-control, the reluctance to delay gratification a constant struggle he battled with.

Setting the book aside, he hesitated a moment as he sat up, hands flexing upon his thighs as he glanced at the space between his legs before assessing his surroundings; there had been no one in the library when he had first entered and he was sure no one had made their way in ever since. Although he was tucked away from the entrance, he was positive he would be able to hear if someone were to come in and even though it was a risky move he found himself oddly thrilled at the element of danger. It would do him no good, after all, to walk to his chambers in such a state he rationalized to himself as his right hand rubbed up his thigh and to the growing bulge at the front of his leathers.

Groaning, he gave in and leaned back as his hand closed over the outline of his cock, gripping it firmly and rubbing in slow methodical circles. His legs shifted, opening wider as he adjusted his position to a more comfortable, ass hanging off the edge of the seat he was in as he kicked his feet out. Heel of his boots digging into the firm ground so he could gain purchase and have better control of his hips, which squirmed under his hand’s ministrations as he let his mind wander.

He imagined you there with him, sitting to his side, your hand replacing his as it stroked over his clothed member; fingers teasing the laces at the front, he licked his lips as he saw you in his head leaning in to press kisses to the arch of his neck, leaving teasing bites as you began to undo the front of his trousers. His own mirrored your movements, except for the way he impatiently yanked at the laces while you moved slowly, not a care in the world as you focused all your attention on him. It made him feel revered, worshiped as your pressed kisses down the column of his throat, hand sliding inside to grip at his cock finally; a soft gasp left his lips as you gave it a few good tugs, matching his rhythm before pulling it out and exposing the turgid flesh to the cool air of the room. It should’ve been a relief, it was a relief, but only a temporary reprieve as Aemond continued stroking himself at a good pace; he pressed his feet into the floor, hips rocking in tandem with his touch as he thrusted into his fist. Only for a moment did he pull away, depravedly spitting into his own hand before returning it to his now fully hard and weeping erection; his strokes quickened as he panted breathlessly, head lilting back uselessly as he lost himself to the debauchery of it all.

Soon enough his leathers were wrapped around his ankles, restricting his movement as the scene shifted in his mind, imagining you taking him into your mouth. He grunted, trying to conjure up how the delicious cavern of mouth upon him would feel–hot, wet, blissfully suffocating–but it was futile; he would simply have to make do with the slick slide of his hand along his length as a poor imitation until he could bring you to bed–if he could bring you to bed. Growling at the thought of your rejection, he quickened his strokes, fucking the tight vice of his fist as he pushed such worries away; in his fantasy at least you were compliant and wanting, mouth hungry as you suckled at the root of his cock, hand fondling the heavy weight of his balls as they tightened. He gripped them harshly, the tightness bordering on painful as they drew up against his body, the end close.

“Fuck,” he cursed, squeezing his erection as he tried to delay the inevitable; your name slipped over his tongue and past his lips, saying it like a prayer as he teetered on the edge. He said it like a plea, begging his cock not to spill so soon as he wanted to drown there in his desire for just a little bit longer.

His body did not heed his words, however, as soon it was stiffening, hips arching off the chair and staying there as the first stream of his release shot pitifully out of the tip of his cock, landing on the lapels of his trousers and the lower half of his vest. Gasp locked deep in his throat, all he could do was simply tilt his head back, singular eye closed tightly as he watched himself hold you down as he spilled inside of your mouth. In an ideal world, you would accept his seed like an offering, swallowing it all down gratefully as you continued to suckle at his softening cock like it was a rare delicacy and you had yet to have your fill–nothing went to waste. Sighing, he continued to jerk himself to the prospect, tongue coming out to swipe across his lower lip as he felt his cum begin to drip onto his hand; only when the last of his release had finished did he loosen his hold on his penis, letting fall uselessly against his dirtied trousers as he slowly came down from the high. 

It had been thrilling, he had to admit to, doing such a private act in the communal area of the library, the threat of being caught some kind of fucked up aphrodisiac. He almost wanted to get caught, to be happened upon in such a compromising state, to be watched while he–

He turned his head in the midst of his wicked thoughts, eye catching the familiar hue of yours as everything came to a halt; for a moment he thought–hoped–that you were still simply a figment of his imagination, but when he saw the shock written plainly on your face and the way your lips parted as you realized you were caught he knew that this was not a part of his fantasy. You were really standing there in the library before him, bearing witness to his secret shame, and he wondered when you had stumbled upon him–how long had you watched him defile himself?

Before either of you could utter a word, Aemond watched you bolt, gripping the skirts of your dress as you hurried from the room. Cursing, he quickly pushed his cock back inside his trousers, struggling with the laces as he attempted to right himself and stumble to catch. Your name left his lips again as he begged you to stay, commanding you to stop when his pleas went unanswered, the door slamming shut behind you as you slipped out of the library. Ignoring how filthy he was, pearly white cum already beginning to harden and stain his clothes, he followed you out into the hallway only to realize that you had already disappeared. Unsure of which way you had gone, he stood there for a moment and considered his chances of catching up with you; frowning as he realized it was futile, he turned on his heel and went back inside, the door once more slamming shut behind him.

He could only hope that you showed at the garden that night so that he might explain himself; although how he could he did not know quite yet. It proved unnecessary however for as midday finally turned to night and Aemond found himself waiting in a patch of white roses in the private area of the gardens, minutes turned to hours and still you made no appearance. And yet he waited as time passed him by, eventually laying back in the flowers as he allowed their sickly sweet scent to envelop him, the starry sky hanging overhead as he drifted slowly to sleep.

#˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑 : #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen one shot

[moriiartist]

WRONG TURN (AT THE RIGHT TIME)

Masterlist

Taglist

PAIRING: Vampire!Ethoslab x GN!Reader

SUMMARY: It was simple, the arrangement you had with Gem. She would let you study in the library before it opened; you would be gone before her boss came in. So… how did you wind up with a vampire for a history tutor?

WARNINGS: Mild language, death mention, semi-graphic violence, non-consensual touching (you get manhandled a bit, nothing sexual), blood and injury, vampirism

A/N: Etho’s a little spooky in this one... had me feeling some type of way while I was writing him 🥴. This one is a bit longer than some of the other stuff I’ve written, and a bit scarier, but I hope y’all enjoy it anyways!

“Alright, time to pack up. You promised me you would be gone before my boss gets in, and the library opens in an hour.”

You jumped at the sound of a book slamming against the surface of the desk you were sitting at, jerking your head up and away from the paragraph you had been staring at for the past ten minutes. A figure loomed over you like the specter of death, impatiently drumming their fingertips against the flesh of their crossed arms. 

They- or rather, she- affixed you with a glare that could melt steel, green eyes flashing behind the thick rims of her glasses. It took a second longer for your sleep-deprived brain to boot up, but it was almost too easy at this point for you to recognize the face of the library’s chief archivist.

Rubbing at your burning eyes with a forefinger and thumb, you puffed a slow breath through your cheeks. After trying to read by the dim light of the desk lamp for God knows how many hours, they stung like hell. 

“Sorry, Gem. I must’ve lost track of time.”

The librarian, Gem, snorted but allowed her stern gaze to thaw, auburn hair rippling down her back as she tilted her head. “Are you sure you aren’t pushing yourself too hard? I know you want to finish up your degree, but I’m pretty sure you’ve studied here every day this week.” 

You chuckled dryly. Oh, she had no idea.

Your day job took up almost all of the ‘working day’ so to speak, leaving only the darkest hours of the night for you to attend college classes and catch up on homework. However, during those hours, there was nothing you could access beyond what little you could pirate on your shitty laptop and printed course material. 

Which is why Gem is the only thing standing between you and straight-up flunking college. 

Despite her devout adherence to the laws that governed your local city library, you had convinced her with a mix of bribery, guilt-tripping, and groveling to allow you to visit in the early hours before it opened. You were able to read and complete your assignments in peace, but most importantly: you were able to access legitimate, essential, official resources during the only time you had during the day to study.

You felt the muscles in your jaw twitch as you held your smile, hoping it didn’t look too vacant. Or desperate. 

“I’m fine, Gem. Just a bit tired.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Sorry- have you seen yourself? The bags under your eyes are big enough to carry my groceries.”

You winced.

“Can’t argue with you there.”

If you were being honest, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gotten more than four hours of sleep in a row- and even that estimate was generous. You pivoted in your seat, making the tactical decision to retreat from Gem’s piercing gaze.

You sighed as you crammed as many books as possible into your backpack, forcing protesting muscles that had long remained stagnant into movement. Whatever didn’t fit you hefted in your arms, making a face halfway between a grimace and a look of abject horror as your back cracked under the weight.

Gem pursed her lips, and somehow you resisted the urge to groan. This was an old argument that the two of you had hashed and re-hashed ever since she’d let you come into the library during closing hours, and you were sick of having to defend yourself.

“You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends. You look like you’re going to keel over at any second.”

“Well,” you laughed airily, the lightness of your voice at odds with the abject exhaustion in your expression. “It’s not like there’s anything I can do. I need to earn my degree, and you know that night classes are the only thing I can afford to take.”

Pausing for a moment, you snorted. “Both literally and figuratively.”

“You’re going to kill yourself at this rate,” Gem sighed, her normally lively countenance as deadpan as she could make it.

“No, I don’t think so. Not if you get to me first.”

A beat of silence.

“... Fair enough.”

It was routine for you to haul your backpack onto your shoulders, Gem helping you with the straps, and wave a harried goodbye to Gem as you slipped out the library’s back door. At her insistence, you promised to text her when you returned to your apartment so she knew you had gotten back safely. 

You shivered, clutching your books tighter to your chest as the warmth of the indoors faded, leaving you to the mercy of Autumn’s chilled embrace. 

It was no exaggeration that your free hours landed squarely in the dead of night- because although you had been up for hours, the sky was still as dark as pitch. Only the barest hint of starlight shone through the inky blackness, and though logically, you knew it was because of light pollution, some part of you wondered if the entirety of the milky way had been swallowed whole.

While the library was laid deep within the city’s heart, it was directly at the center of the entertainment district. Meaning that, despite the late (or early) hour, the city streets surrounding the library were just as busy during the night as they were during the day. Restaurants, bars, nightclubs, and… other businesses lined the street, the light from their illuminated windows and neon signs shining like rainbows against the pavement.

Across the street, raucous laughter resounded from within a bar. The sound bounced eerily across the pavement and crowded walls of the buildings that rose like silhouettes from the ground. You flinched as you heard the sound of shattering glass, accompanied by loud cheering, wrinkling your nose against the sharp sting of early winter frost and the pungent scent of booze.

You quickened your pace, dodging and weaving through flocks of tourists that ranged from mildly inebriated to flat-out drunk, barely managing to keep yourself balanced under the awkward weight of your backpack. The idea of being caught up in whatever illicit business went down in the cramped alleyways and seedy taverns that garnished the area like sprinkles on a cake was far from appealing- especially with the whole ‘living alone’ thing.

At the next street, you finally made the turn that led you away from the throngs of frat boys and bar-flies into the residential areas that sprouted just a ways off from popular tourist destinations. 

Although you had made the journey countless times, it never ceased to startle you just how quickly the general cacophony of shouting and laughter faded away with a few blocks of distance. It was much, much quieter here; the only sounds were the gentle tap-tap-tap of your shoes against the concrete and the occasional rush of a car driving by.

Windows of houses looked more like dark, empty eyes as you passed them, and the further you got from the entertainment district, the easier it was to pretend that you were the only person on earth. A sharp gust of wind suddenly howled through the trees, rattling leaves and raking icy claws across your skin.

You gasped as a shiver snaked its way down your spine, instinctually clutching your books tighter to your chest in an effort to conserve warmth. Cursing softly, you shed through your coat pocket to find your phone, exclaiming in victory as your fingers wrapped around it. Clicking it open, you blinked in surprise once you spotted the time: 5:00 AM.

Huh. That was definitely waayyy later than you had originally expected… and you had to get to work at 8:30. A high-pitched whine rose in the back of your throat. 

Say goodbye to any chance you could’ve had at a (barely) decent sleep, because at this rate? It would be a miracle if you could get home in time to shower and eat.

You were so focused on your phone that you almost didn’t process the electric hum that filled the air, the lone streetlight ahead flickering in and out to the beat of your footsteps. Catching the flashing from your periphery, you glanced up with a frown. 

Now- you weren’t an electrician, or really anyone skilled in the engineering field, but… you were fairly certain that it shouldn’t be making that loud, electric humming noise. You halted in your steps, tilting your head and squinting your eyes at the malfunctioning lamp. It flickered one more time, weakly, before plunging you into shadow.

If you thought that the night was dark before, surrounded by light and the nightlife, it paled in comparison to the true darkness that descended upon you like a cloak. One moment, you’re perfectly fine, and the next, you can hardly see the shape of your body against the pavement.

Another shiver wracked your body- but it felt different from a chill. Something inside your brain had begun frantically ringing alarm bells, and you could only desperately search for some kind of stressor as the hair on the back of your neck rose to attention.

Shakily, you exhaled, spinning in one, slow circle. There was the faint outline of a parked car, engine silent and sleeping, the houses, the trees- nothing. Nothing that would make your anxiety levels swing from ‘manageable’ to ‘DEFCON one’.

You turned back around, your previously relaxed pace discarded in favor of a light jog. It was all you could do not to fall on your ass as your backpack shifted and bounced with your downstep, and your chest felt tight as panic began to seep in.

What the hell is going on?

Something clattered behind you, and your breath seized in your lungs. The burning was hardly an afterthought because you were sprinting, stumbling and dropping your own books in your haste to get away from something you couldn’t- or wouldn’t- see.

You were so close you could see the gleam of the next streetlight up above. Your inhales were more like sobbing gasps of air, and distantly you felt the dampness of your cheeks as tears sluiced down them. 

You were so close.

But it was never like you had the chance to escape, anyway.

A calloused hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking it and the rest of your body back. Hard. 

All of the wind was knocked out of you as you slammed into the ground, hands and knees shrieking with agony as the pavement grain shredded the skin. The books within your bag did little to soften the fall, their hard spines digging into your ribs through the material of your bag.

Spots danced in front of your eyes, and you felt like you were moving through molasses as a pair of shiny dress shoes strolled into view. You didn’t want to see their face. Something visceral within you begged you to make yourself as small as possible- not a threat, nothing of interest.

Still, your traitorous gaze drifted upwards, and you felt the blood drain from your face as you stared straight up into a pair of ruby-red eyes.

“My, don’t you smell divine.”

You tried to scream, but it came out more like a choked gasp as your lungs came up empty.

This wasn’t- you had to be hallucinating. This had to be something that your sleep-deprived brain had dreamed up, safe and asleep in your bed.

Vampires weren’t real. 

But, as it grinned with razor-sharp fangs, face alight with nothing but hunger, it was impossible to say it was anything else as it dug sharp, talon-like nails into your open wound.

Pain, quick as lightning and ten times more intense sparked through your nervous system, wringing a punched-out gasp from your throat. The periphery of your eyes darkened, and for a moment you genuinely thought that you would pass out from sheer agony as you desperately tried (and failed) to tear its wrist away. 

It chuckled, twisting its claws in deeper to draw a proper scream out of you, humming in approval before it pulled them out. You went lax, heaving for breath as it lapped at the sticky blood- your blood- coating its fingers.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you realized that it was watching you. Crouched on the side of the street, inspecting you with a calculating gaze not dissimilar from how a fox inspects a cornered rabbit.

“Oh,” it said, a grin that was entirely too wide creeping across its face. “Yes. You taste even better than I thought you would.”

Feeling your breaths come faster and faster as fresh tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, you pressed your palm to your mouth, only succeeding in smearing the blood that covered it all over your chin. 

So this was how you died. Alone, scared, and covered in your own blood, pinned down in the middle of the street by a creature you thought only existed in classical literature and trashy romance novels.

And, to top it all off, you had never even graduated college.

The vampire shifted, and you flinched at the sensation of its talons scraping at the soft flesh of your neck. You knew what happened next if the stories were to be believed, but terror had frozen your limbs as thoroughly as rigor mortis.

You swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut.

And promptly had them fly back open as the vampire shot back in a blur of snarling and snapping limbs, hitting the ground several meters away from you with a loud crack.

Transfixed, you could only watch with a dumbfounded expression as a cloaked figure appeared to teleport in front of you, hissing lowly. The vampire was on its feet before you could blink, its handsome features twisted into an animalistic snarl before it locked gazes with… whatever was blocking its path to you.

If you didn’t feel like you were about to pass out, you would’ve thought how quickly its expression changed from ardor to pure, unadulterated terror was hilarious. 

“You,” it breathed, every muscle in its body snapping with tension. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Sheer survival instinct had kept your focus solely on the vampire that had cornered you, but the fear that radiated it was enough of a surprise that you found yourself glancing over towards whatever was perpetrating it.

One time, after you had gotten off work and had nothing else to do, you decided to watch a documentary series about tropical rainforest animals. For the most part, it was just background noise to help you fall asleep, but you found yourself engrossed when a particular segment about leopards began.

All you could think of, now that you were looking at the cloaked figure, was just how still they were. They didn’t move a muscle, not even where a normal person would’ve begun to cramp after a few seconds. They didn’t even seem to be breathing.

They reminded you of those leopards that you had watched. Especially in the way that those leopards went when they were hunting.

“Who says where I can and can’t be?” they, or rather, he said, masculine voice smooth and calm. “It’s certainly not your job.”

Sensing an opportunity to get the hell out of dodge, you grit your teeth as you shifted onto your hands and knees, slowly pushing yourself up into a crouch. The raw and ragged skin on your knees screamed in protest as it pulled taut, and you had to bite your tongue to stifle your soft sounds of pain.

The vampire’s jaw worked, and even as it drew itself up to its full height, you noted it was much taller than whatever had decided to intervene. (Something was wearing that cloak, but if he was an actual human person, you would eat your hat.)

The cloaked figure titled his head. “If you know what’s good for you, you should leave.”

You froze in place, heart jack-hammering in your ribs. Was he talking to you?

He went on- “Wouldn’t want to break any more rules. The covenant will have your head.”

For a long, tense moment, nothing happened. The wind whistled down the street. In the distance, police sirens wailed.

You didn’t dare move- not when the air itself felt charged, waiting for something to snap.

Then, the vampire growled, lips pulling back from their teeth wolfishly as they reluctantly bowed. Flabbergasted, you watched as it reluctantly melted back into the shadows, the red gleam of its eyes the last thing to fade to black.

The only thing you could hear was your heart thumping in your ears.

After a moment, the cloaked figure’s head turned deliberately towards where your crumpled form was hunched over, and you hastily scrabbled to your feet, Balling your hands up into fists. you trembled, staring him down.

“Are you alright?”

You don’t know what you would do if he decided to attack you, but you weren’t going to take it kneeling- not when you still felt the burn of humiliation for remaining paralyzed by terror. To your continuing horror, he took your silence as an invitation to step forward.

“Stay back,” you bit out, adrenaline buzzing through your veins. “I will not hesitate to punch you in your stupid face.”

Impressively, although you couldn’t make out his face with the shadows that clung to the hood of his cloak, you could see him do a double-take. “... Sorry?”

“You better be,” you muttered, eyes flickering to and fro as you tried to find a good escape route.

To your surprise, he hesitated, murmuring something under his breath that you couldn’t make out. He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “I am, if that makes you feel any better. You aren’t supposed to be attacked like this, it’s… uncivilized.”

Gaze snapping back to him, your brows raised incredulously. “Really? You’re not just saying that so that I let my guard down? And then you kill me and steal all my blood?”

“If I wanted to ‘steal all your blood’ I would’ve done it already.”

You deadpanned. “That’s not as comforting as you think it is.”

He took another step, but before you could threaten him again, pulled the hood of his cloak down. By now, your eyes had adjusted to the light (or lack thereof), and you found yourself sucking in a harsh breath.

Although you had guessed, what you saw definitely revealed him to be another vampire. His hair, a close-cropped shock of white, stood out against the darkness of the surrounding street.

You couldn’t describe the way that he was looking at you if you tried. His eyes burned like hot coals, pinned on you with a kind of unyielding focus that made your arms prickle with goosebumps. It both struck you as similar to that other vampire’s regard, a predator watching prey, but it was distinctly different- more like he was cataloging the rise and fall of your breath, the grinding of your shoe heel into the pavement.

A black mask- one of those anime ones that you couldn’t bother to remember the name of- hung around his neck, ready to be pulled up without a second’s notice. It looked well-cared for, despite being a little worn around the edges, and he fiddled with it absently as your gaze swept over him.

The most glaring thing about his appearance was the fact that he was almost flawlessly handsome, skin unblemished, bone structure pristine. The only thing that marred him was the long, thin scar that cut across his left eye, splitting his eyebrow in half.

“Even if you are pretty, I still won’t hesitate to punch you in the nose.”

He barked a laugh, fangs- holy shit his fangs- flashing. For some reason, he seemed pleased at your jab, chest puffing out slightly. “So you think I’m pretty?”

“Do I look like someone that would be attracted to an overgrown mosquito?” you scoffed, eyeing his shrewdly. “And a vain one, at that.”

He paused for a moment, staring at you, and you felt the fear that had temporarily abated come back in full force. One of these days, you were going to take a vow of silence so you could never say anything stupid ever again. 

You swallowed, hugging your arms tight to your body as you leaned away. In a blink, he was suddenly, much, much closer, and you swore as you jumped. 

“No,” the vampire said abruptly, tilting his head in a predatory manner. A smile split across his face, and a confident gleam arose within his eyes as his hand came up to grab your chin firmly. (Privately, you were relieved to find that he clipped his nails like a normal human being.)

“But you do look like someone who knows something they shouldn’t.”

You thrashed in his grip, eventually stilling with your palms pressed flat to his chest. Although you were pushing as hard as you could, it didn’t seem to affect him. 

You laughed, a little bit hysterical. “Oh, so now you’re going to kill me?” 

His fingers drummed against the flesh of your cheek. Languidly running his tongue against the swell of his upper lip, he cocked his head to the other side. You winced as you heard the vertebrae in his neck crack. 

“What could I give you to keep you quiet?”

You blinked, taken aback by his jarringly serious tone.

“What?”

“What do you want? Money? Favors? What would convince you to keep your mouth shut?” he pressed, eyes narrowing, Distantly, you noted that his eyelashes were as pale as the hair on top of his head. “We’ve got kind of a secret society thing going on, y’anno, and we don’t need you blabbing.”

Confused, you shifted, and his hand came up to squish your cheeks until your lips puckered like a fish’s. You tensed but didn’t attempt to move.  “‘Oul’nt you j’st kill ‘m?”

He smirked, ruby red eyes gleaming. “Yes, but it would be a shame. You’re funny.”

You batted his hand away, staring at him. He… seemed sincere, or he could just be a very skilled liar. It was more than likely that both were true, and whatever you did, it would be a gamble.

“... A tutor,” you said after several moments of silence, voice laced with quiet certainty. “That’s what I need. A tutor.”

He stared at you. You stared at him. There was a lot of staring at one another.

“That’s it? ”

You shrugged. “College is hell.”

“Not cash, or fame, or… cash…” the vampire frowned. “Everyone asks for cash.”

“I guess I’m just built different,” you said, as if you weren’t running on less than half of the minimum sleep quota and hubris. 

You would be kicking yourself later when you sprung out of bed, wild-eyed as you beheld the healing cuts that littered your knees and palms, but right now? You were absolutely not in the right mindset to be making pacts with a creature of the night.

“Alrighty then,” he said after a moment, letting go of your face in favor of offering you his other hand. “It’s a deal.”

You, with all the bravado and lack of self-awareness that only a college senior could possess, took it.

He grinned, and in a blink, a solid chest bumped into your back. There was no heat to your proximity other than your startled flush, even as the vampire’s cold breath caressed the shell of your ear.

“The name’s Etho. I have a hunch that you and I... we’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

The crack of your fist hitting his face resounded through the street, drawing a startled hiss from the vampire.

Well, he couldn’t say you didn’t warn him.

@blufr0st​ @itsonlydana​ @amearla​ @bapthadapper​ @redactedsouls​ @sina-the-idiot @icarusthefoolish​ @blockyshieldmaiden​ @lunarheartsposts​

#mori's monster series #a meal for the children #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft x you #hermitcraft x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #ethoslab x reader #ethoslab x you #ethoslab x y/n #c!ethoslab #c!geminitay #tw: mild language #tw: death mention #tw: blood #tw: non-consentual touching #tw: violence #tw: blood and injury #tw: vampirism

[nerdywriter36]

first lines game!

"Share the first line of ten of your most recent fanfics and then tag ten people. Don't have ten? Not to worry, just share what you have."

thank you for the tag @shinyfire-0! I’m majorly late to this, but do enjoy these snippets of (and links to) my work on AO3 :)

1. Drinks and Kisses - oneshot, collab with @brendadaaedestler. Erik/Christine.

Erik slid his arms into his housecoat, the satin sliding smoothly along the sleeves of his nightshirt, and padded into his kitchen, where the kettle was squealing away on the stove. Lifting it off, he filled a waiting teacup, the smell of a jasmine blend filling the air as the hot water poured through the herbal mixture.

2. All in the Name of Love - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023. Erik/Christine.

Erik stumbled out of his music room, rubbing his face as he went in an attempt to wake himself up even a little bit. He had accidentally spent an entire night composing...for the third night in a row, and he was beginning to feel the effects. Even with that fact, though, he knew that he would likely end up doing the same thing that night; when there was a song in his head, it needed to be put to paper immediately and he simply wouldn't be able to rest until it was done.

3. True Friends Are Great Riches - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023. Erik/Christine with a little one, Nadir makes an appearance.

"Are you sure this is enough food, Erik?" Christine asked as she looked down at the bowl of salad on her lap, then double-checked the insulated bag at her feet to make sure the ice cream treats she had packed were, in fact, there, despite having checked multiple times before. "There are going to be four adults eating tonight."

4. The Symphony of Our Hearts - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023. Erik/Christine.

Erik leaned back on his hands and sighed to himself as he watched the performers on the stage in front of them. They were...adequate at best, and that was being kind. He had purchased tickets to this outdoor symphony, wanting to just enjoy the outdoors and listen to music, but it seemed that his hopes that the music would be good had been asking too much of the local artists. They were already an hour into what was a two-hour program and he wasn't completely sure how much more he could take. The singers lacked technique in what should have been obvious areas, there were a few too many sour notes and incidents of scrambling to play the right chords for his taste; he was used to far more professional performances at real opera houses and music halls, or even his own skills! This was amateur hour, it seemed.

5. Rain and Redamancy - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023, collab with @brendadaaedestler. 1990 inspired!Erik/Christine.

“Well, I think it is safe to say that was the worst production I’ve been to,” Erik said with a quiet sigh as he descended the grand staircase of the opera house, his wife on his arm. His eyes flicked upward when they heard a loud crash of thunder from outside. “Oh, good, the rain hasn’t stopped. And to think, I was worried we had missed it.”

6. A Child’s Fascination - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023. 1990!Erik/Christine with a little one.

Christine pulled her needle through the fabric of her latest sewing project - a waistcoat of Erik's that he had managed to put a hole in. How, she didn't know, nor did he, or so he claimed. Then again, she didn't claim to understand most of her husband's antics and the results of them.

7. Frigid - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023. Post-LND!Erik/Christine.

"Christine, must we do this?" Erik asked with a sigh, looking skeptically at the murky water lapping against the supports of the pier. "This water is freezing."

8. An Evening of Interruptions - oneshot for POTO Fluff Week 2023. Erik/Christine with a little one.

Erik settled into his high-backed armchair with a sigh, resting a book on his knee and reaching for the small china cup on the nearby side table. The day had been long, consisting of many meetings with clients awaiting architectural designs. That was an aspect of his new life that he was still adjusting to - people.

9. my heart is home when my hand is in yours - multi-chapter oneshot collection of handholding prompts. primarily Erik/Christine.

The sound of a violin being played quickly caught Christine's attention as she stepped out of the small gondola outside the home that she had grown so fond of. The notes that flowed together into such a beautiful song that both warmed her heart and gave her chills echoed in the underground grotto, the sound bouncing off of the stone walls and completely engulfing her in the melody, drawing her in for more.

10. Say You’ll Share With Me - multi-chapter oneshot collection. primarily Erik/Christine.

The sound of the gunshot still rang in Erik’s ears, even as he sat by Christine’s bedside in Phantasma’s infirmary, watching her closely to make sure she stayed stable. It had been almost an hour since the...incident; he couldn’t even bear to think about it more than he had to.

This was really fun to do! I’m late to this, so I won’t tag anyone but @brendadaaedestler because I can’t remember if you’ve done this already or not :D

#my writing #poto #phic #tag game #first lines tag #e/c

[copperbadge]

[ID: Two images; on the left is my bathroom floor, showing a faded rug in a blue and white pattern, with raised wooden “mats” at the far end of it. On the right is a photograph of the back of a white baseball cap, reading “Ashley MacIsaac” over the back vent; where an adjustable strap used to be, there are now two yellow elastic bands, secured in place with several rows of stitches (oh shit do I need to clip some threads).]  

This morning I got a lot of little things done for NaClYoHo. I moved all the towels from a long-term storage bag to the towel boxes from yesterday, so now they’re all safe but accessible; I replaced them in the storage bag with my collection of motherfucking tote bags so that they are no longer stored in my weekender. 

I picked up the second rug I’d ordered yesterday -- it’s new but “antiqued” which normally I’d think is pretentious but I love the look of this one. I’ve set it up in the bathroom and it appears to be the perfect solution to the issue I was having; now when I get out of the bath I’m not walking on something full of dust and debris, so I can do what’s needed to treat and medicate my feet, but once I’m done there’s a carpet covering most of the floor both keeping it warm and keeping the dust from spreading. Plus I think the combo carpet-wood looks super cool. 

I continued to sort my crafts; I’m down to one bin of stuff I don’t know what to do with yet and even within that bin some things have been sorted. I have a bin of fabric projects, a bin of “immediate” projects that are priority to finish, one for quilting supplies, and several for various tools and goods sorted by type. My artbin, which used to be a “catch all” for stuff I didn’t know what to do with, now holds all my sewing and sewing machine supplies plus floss for cross-stitch. 

I decided to finish one project this morning and added a new elastic band to my Ashley MacIsaac hat; I saw him in concert for my 18th birthday and the hat was a souvenir, but the leather strap crumbled and fell off, and while I don’t WEAR the hat very often I still wanted it to be wearable. That’s just two hair elastics (formerly for mask loops) stitched into the hem. Took like five minutes, very pleased with myself. 

Listened to “Test Driving A Four Day Work Week” from The Indicator, “What Walmart’s Aisles Say About The American Consumer” from The Journal (which was much more about what Walmart’s aisles say about Walmart tbh), “The Joyful Black History of the Sweet Potato” from Gravy by the Southern Foodways Alliance, and most of “The Info Wars Of WWII” from One Year’s 1942 series. About 90 minutes worth of work! 

#naclyoho #cleaning #craft supplies

[polizwrites]

PoliZ's WIP Update: 27 Feb 2024

Still busy IRL, which cuts into my writing time/energy.   I touched  3 fics (3 new works & 0 WIPs) for a total of  1726  words.  

On Ao3, I posted: 

Chapter One of  A Vision of Things To Come - WinterIron time travel shenanigans with wartime!Bucky. 

The Hour of Denial - wartime Stucky love confessions

At Full Tilt -  Medieval AU ficlet with  Knight!Steve vs Knight!Winter Soldier  (minor Stony) 

The Best Part of Waking Up  - present-day Stucky PWP fluff. 

On Tumblr I posted: 

 The Hour of Denial - pretty much what ended up on Ao3. 

I’m juggling  17 😬 active/semi-active WIPs with my current  deadline being the Post July Break Bingo, which ends in April. 

See  below cut for what I’m working on/planning to work on - arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc.  As always, feel free to send me   prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding  any of these projects  or any other WIPs I’ve got out there.   Interaction really helps feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

Tony Stark Bingo Round 7  - [TSB_R7]   (ends 15 Feb)

Masterpost 

Stony AUniverse Bingo  [SAUB_R1] (ends 15 Feb)

Final count - twenty-one fills for five bingos - hoping this event comes back so I can carry over a couple of squares!   Masterpost forthcoming….   

Captain (America) Bottom Bingo - Round 2 [CABB] (ends 28 Feb 2024)

I signed up for a 3x3 card for this bingo and managed a blackout plus an adopted square - woo hoo!  Masterpost forthcoming...

* B1 - "All I wanted was for you to be happy." - Posted The Hour of Denial  on Monday - a wartime Stucky love confession ficlet that crossed over with last week’s Flash Fiction Friday prompt:  [#FFF241 Hour of Denial]  and came in at 360 words. 

* B3 - Royal Knight - Posted  At Full Tilt  on Tuesday - Medieval AU where knight!Steve is jousting against knight!Winter Soldier. It crossed over (kinda) with my SRB Red Skull square  and came in at 618 words. 

* C3 - Bath/shower sex  - posted The Best Part of Waking Up as a crossover with the BaBB February prompt: Morning Sex.  Steve comes back after a morning run to take a shower - and is joined by a horny Bucky.  PWP to the tune of 899 words ensues. 

Post July Break Bingo  [JBB_23p] (Ends Apr 2024)

One fill on my  2x3 non-fandom-specific card - still working on  potential crossovers.

* A1 - “It’s you. It’s always been you.” - I should have squeezed this into the Stucky love confession fic! Ah well - guess I’ll have to write another one  😁

* B2 - Character’s personality is split into two different beings – I’ve never played with Bucky & the Soldier being two different people, but this seems like the perfect opportunity! Will see what might be a good crossover on one of my open cards.

*  C1 - Touch Starved – another good fit for a Bucky-centric fic. (Steve or Tony or Clint).

Steve Rogers Bingo - Round 3 [SRB_R3] (ends  15 Jun 2024)

Seven  fills and one WIP - need to ponder possible crossovers, especially with  CABB.  

* A1 - Steve can actually dance just fine - Matched this up with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt  [#FFF238 Take My Hand]  for   Finding a Partner -  where Steve & Natasha go dancing (potential pre-slash). It came in at  239 words and will post to Ao3 before the event is over.    

* A5 - Red Skull -  squished this into  At Full Tilt    - see CABB Royal Knight prompt above. 

* C5 - Exes to Lovers  -  see what the March BaBB list brings?    

Bucky Barnes Connect Four - Alt Jun-iverse [BBC4_R2]  {Ends June 2024}

The good folks over at @buckybarnesevents  have opened this event up early!  You sign up for a single row card of four squares and the challenge is to see if you can combine any/all into a single Bucky-centric AU fanwork - although you can also create 2-4 separate fanworks if you want.  

The combo of prompts on my first card [Reality Show,  Omegaverse, Talent/Manager, Royalty] sparked an idea that I’m about 230 words + misc notes into already -  Alpha!Bucky as a technical prince   who gets talked into joining a reality show that is supposed to match him up with an omega… but there’s a twist!  Planning to pick this back up in the next week or so.  

Hawkeyes Bingo [HB_R2] {Ends TBD} 

Just signed up for this fun Tumblr event - got a 3x3 card and and am looking forward to creating more  Clint-centric content and trying my hand at a bit of  Kate Bishop fic as well!    

*A1 - Werewolf AU -  wrote Shooting for the Moon -  Werewolf!Bucky’s POV on the  second half of A Hairy Situation. It came in at 811 words and will get posted to Ao3 sometime in the next couple weeks. 

* A3 - Awkward Flirting – this might be a good entry into my first femslash fic with Kate/Yelena?    

Build-A-Bucky Bingo [BaBB_R1] {Ends Oct 2024}

Another fun year-long  event from the folks at  @buckybarnesevents!  Each month there’s a list of prompts and you choose (at least) one  each month for your card!

* November:  Crackfic - DONE  

* December: Wingman  - DONE

* January: Wingfic  - DONE

*January: Polyamory - DONE

* February -  Fingering -  DONE

* February - Morning Sex - see CABB Bath/Shower Sex. 

Warm and Fluffy   Bingo  [WFB]   (no end date)

Four  fills on my card, courtesy of   @warmandfluffybingocards  - need to try for another crossover or two!

————

On  other creative fronts:  I am working on a Godzilla figure for this weekend’s convention - I’ve finished all my  Marvel Trumps Hate  figures, but still need to create posts (and mail one set) . 

If  you’re looking for one of a kind gifts for birthdays or other celebrations, check  out Stuffed With Character    over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 150!).   These soft stuffed figures are  mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC   and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design   requests  for any fandom!

#writing stuff #wip wednesday #WIP Update #shameless self promo

[lilyoffandoms]

WTD Drabble - Troy x Saeed

For @moodmusicmonday’s Luck of the Draw. My draw was Because You Loved Me by Celine Dion.

Warnings & A/N: Didn’t got too literal with this song prompt but love the idea that my Saeed would find stupid and not so stupid things for Troy when out scouting because gift giving is his love language and he would definitely want to do this because Troy surprisingly chooses to love him each and every day. Anyway, I’ve not finished WTD yet as I just picked it up again and I’m only on chapter six, so forgive any errors in canon compliance.

He looked out over the gardens, thriving in the late summer light, and counted the garden gnomes that dotted the rows of vegetables. Silly little things that brought a smile to his face each time he discovered a new one.

It had been a joke between them at first. Saeed asking Troy about them when he saw a faded and torn ad for them in an old gardening magazine. And Troy telling a story with a fond smile on his face about his neighbor maybe having some from back before. Slowly, week by week, and month by month Saeed found new ones to joined the ranks among their garden at Olympus.

Anything to see you smile, Saeed had said to Troy.

He glanced at the book in his hands, flipping it over and chuckling at the cover. A cheesy sci-fi series that was missing books two and five with the most gaudy cover on it that looked little like what the pages contained, but that he enjoyed nevertheless.

Book one had been his father’s from before the end of the world. It was the only thing he had of his family any longer. Books three, four, six, and seven were lined up in the bookshelves of their bedroom.

A fond chuckle escaped him as he thought about the little inscription Saeed had placed in each and everyone them upon giving them to Troy.

Anything to see you smile, Saeed had said.

So many little gifts that meant so much to Troy. If they talked about something from back then, Saeed made sure to find it or at least have one of the other scavenger teams keep a look out for it.

Hand held video games that didn’t work anymore, and he would never be able to play but in his imagination as he mimicked what he had read they sounded like. A fun game of make believe. Fashion magazines that meant little to him, but whose glossy pictures of people in absurd clothing and ridiculous looking hair and makeup in the most unnatural of colors, fascinated him. Comic books, crosswords, word searches that once would have been used to pass the time on road trips now found their place in a large basket in the corner of their room for this lazy rainy nights spent before the fire.

What must the world have been like back then? they would always ask each other and imagine.

Rather dull without your smile, Saeed always concluded.

The sun dipped below the tree line as he looked out at the perimeter patrols, barely visible in the growing dark.

They should have been back by now, he worried the corner of his lip. His mind wandered to places he knew he shouldn’t let it. But the past always seems to come haunt you in those moments of weakness. He didn’t understand why Saeed was insisting on going along on more of those scavenger excursions and that too worried him.

He shook his head free of those nightmares and climbed into bed with his book, reading until the light faded along with the words.

It was later than they had planned on returning but the chance for those farm tools had been worth the risk, Saeed sighed as he entered the still room.

He took the book from Troy’s hands and set it on the nightstand and pulling another two from his pack, placed them atop his father’s copy. He climbed into their bed, lying on his side, head resting on his arm, as close as he could get without jostling Troy so he could watch him sleeping.

Softly he caressed one of his exposed shoulders, tracing random curves on Troy’s skin in a gentle attempt to let him know he was back.

“You’re late,” Troy mumbled.

“Yeah,” Saeed smiled. “Took a bit of a detour on the way back from the city, but it was worth it.”

Troy opened his eyes.

“And before you ask, yes, everyone is safe and sound back here.”

“Good,” Troy replied with a yawn. “What was so important?”

“Farm equipment we can put to use. Some spare parts. Good stuff. Now go back to sleep,” he whispered and placed a soft kiss to Troy’s head.

“Did you get everything we needed from the city?”

It had been a dangerous trip venturing into territory that was as infested as cities tended to be, but the supply list was desperately needed.

“Yeah, we did. Even got a surprise for you too,” Saeed grinned.

“You need to stop risking that,” Troy scolded but smiled at the possibilities.

“Never!” Saeed scoffed. “It’s worth it to see you smile.”

“Don’t be stupid. My smile isn’t that great,” Troy said and flashed him a devastatingly perfect smile.

“Don’t give me that. You know exactly what that smile does to me. And you know I can’t actually see you smiling right now, right?” Saeed laughed.

“Ah but I know you are remembering just how perfect a smile it is,” Troy said and Saeed could hear the pleased smirk.

“Go to sleep.”

“Only if you give me a kiss,” Troy said.

After fumbling and laughing in their blind attempts to find the others lips, they settled into each others arms. Saeed listening to Troy’s even breaths as he feel back to sleep.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t risk for you,” he whispered.

——————————

All Choices Tag: @storyofmychoices @peonierose @aallotarenunelma @inlocusmads

#choices wtd #troy hassan #troy x saeed #mmm luck of the draw #i like to live dangerously and so do not edit please forgive any mistakes #also so this is late my life is a hectic crazy mess right now and this is beyond hasty thing i did in between doc appts with my pop #so anyway it’s done it’s here it’s posted but don’t read to closely 😬 #my drabble #my oc: saeed mendis

[stargazer-sims]

Drabble

Victor. Word: Vampire

Thanks @cawthorntales ! I'm working my way through all the excellent prompt suggestions I got, and it's been a great creative exercise.

This one was a lot of fun, so here you go!

__________

This week's rotation has Victor on the mid-shift, from three in the afternoon until eleven at night. He's back at work following a much-needed four-day break after having worked the eleven to seven overnight shift for three rotations in a row, and he's glad to be able to experience sunlight again.

He’d begun to feel like a character in an urban fantasy novel, roaming the eerily quiet corridors of the paediatric floor to look in on sleeping children and slipping out of the hospital to have his break in the dead of night. It's been especially weird on their unit after dark since they put the Halloween decorations up.

Yes, it's totally an improvement to come to work while there's still daylight and the majority of his patients are awake.

Victor can't actually say he's delighted to discover that his two newest patients are Camellia and Forest Abbottsford, but he is delighted at their reaction when he enters their room. As if on cue, the pair of five-year-olds exclaim in unison, "It's Victor!"

During shift change today, he was a little surprised when his counterpart on the day shift first showed him Camellia's chart and then Forest's. Both twins had been admitted because their paediatrician, Dr. Park, suspected Type 1 Diabetes and wanted to run a series of tests to confirm or rule out that diagnosis. The idea itself isn't particularly shocking to Victor, considering their dad Fox is diabetic and was diagnosed at a very young age, but he does find it unusual that the twins are showing signs of the illness at the same time.

Forest and Camellia seem to be in good spirits. Fox is there with them, and they're all drawing pictures together. It’s obvious which one of them has inherited Fox’s artistic talent. Forest’s drawing looks way more advanced than anything Victor has seen a typical kindergartener do. He thinks Camellia’s drawing might be of a fire truck, or possibly a red bus.

Fox smiles at his kids. "I said you'd likely see Victor today, didn't I?"

"Victor, are you a doctor?" Camellia asks. "I didn't know you were a doctor!"

"I'm not a doctor," Victor says. "I'm a nurse. You know, the one with the best jokes and the cool Band-Aids."

Forest eyes him warily. "And the needles?"

"Yeah," he confesses.

“The other nurse had a needle too,” says Forest. “And she didn’t have any cool Band-Aids.”

“You didn’t need a Band-Aid for that one, Forest,” Fox says.

“Well, you will this time,” Victor tells him, “But I have the coolest Band-Aids of all time, so I’ve got you covered.”

“Covered. With Band-Aids. That’s a funny joke.” Camellia giggles. She’s apparently unfazed. "I don't mind needles. They don't even hurt that much, and anyway, I'm a superhero!"

"I'm glad you're a superhero," Victor tells her. "We're going to do a special test today, and you're going to need to use all your superpowers, like your super-courage and super-strength."

"What kind of test?" Camellia wants to know.

"It's a blood test. I'm going to take a little bit of your blood out of you, and then the doctors and technicians are going to do all kinds of science-y stuff with it, and try to find out what's making you sick."

"Really?" Camellia looks intrigued. "How are you going to get my blood out of me? Are you like… a vampire?”

Victor laughs. He can't help it. He's gratified to see Fox laughing too, because it erases the stress and worry that'd previously been evident in his expression and body language.

"Oh, I'm definitely a vampire," Victor says. "A science vampire. That means, instead of biting you, I'm going to use my special vampire needle to take your blood. I can’t bite you, because you know, everything has to be clean and germ-free for science.”

"Are you going to take my blood too?" Forest asks. He doesn't seem nearly as fascinated by the process as his twin.

"Yes, but don't worry. I heard your sister is a superhero. I think, if you ask her nicely, she'll hold your hand so you won't be too scared. Unless," he adds, "you're also a superhero. In which case, I think you should hold Daddy's hand so he won't be scared."

Forest chews his lower lip. "Daddy, do you think I'm a superhero?"

"You are absolutely a superhero, Forest," Fox says. "The most super of heroes."

"So, if I hold your hand, that means you won't be scared?"

"I think I'll feel a million times better if you hold my hand."

Victor sets down his little tray of equipment on one of the bedside tables. He tears open a packet containing sterile gloves and puts them on. For some reason, he never ceases to be amused by the fact that all the gloves are colour-coded by size, and that the extra-large gloves are light purple.

He holds up his hands. "What do you think, Camellia? Vampire gloves?"

"Yeah, 'cause everything has to be clean and germ-free for science, right?" Camellia says.

"Exactly," says Victor. "Okay, then. Who wants to be first?"

Camellia bounces up and down on her bed. "Me! I want to see my blood!" She pitches her voice low and elongates the word 'blood' as if she's a character in an animated Halloween special.

Victor raises an eyebrow in the most exaggerated way he can manage. "Oh, do you? How do you know you're even going to see it?"

"You mean, I'm not?" The sudden look of disappointment on her face is so profound that it's comical, and Victor has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep himself from laughing again.

"No, you can if you want to," he says. "My special needle has a little tube on it, so we'll both be able to see."

Camellia rubs her hands together and does the most perfect cartoon villain laugh. "Matsu is gonna be so mad when I tell him about this, 'cause I get to see my blood and he doesn't."

Victor grins at Fox. "Are you sure this one's yours?"

Fox has moved over to Forest's bed and is holding his son in his lap. "Are you suggesting she takes after Takahiro more than she takes after me?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of her secretly being your sister's kid. Clancy seems like the type to get satisfaction out of this kind of stuff."

"Now that you mention it," Fox says. "She always wanted to help with my shots when we were kids. Maybe she just enjoyed sticking needles into me."

"Does that mean I can stick a needle into Forest?" Camellia asks.

"No," Fox says.

Camellia pretends to pout for a few seconds, but then she's all business again. She shifts her attention back to Victor, and in what he presumes is her superhero voice, proclaims, "Okay, vampire, do your worst! I'm not afraid of you!"

And by all appearances, she isn't the least bit afraid of him or his needle. She doesn't make so much as a peep when he inserts it into her arm, and then stares, captivated, as a tiny amount of her blood makes its way up the tubing and into the little collection container.

when he's done, he lets her pick a Band-Aid. To no one's astonishment, she chooses an Avengers one, and then tells him that she's going to keep her sleeve rolled up for the rest of the day so everyone can see it.

Victor is glad that at least one of the twins is taking the experience of being in the hospital reasonably well. He can't imagine what Fox and Taka must be going through. Fox in particular must be struggling because he doubtless remembers what being diagnosed with diabetes as a child was like for him.

He finishes labelling Camellia's blood sample, changes his gloves, and then turns to Forest. "All right, superhero number two. Are you ready?"

Forest nods, but he looks unsure. "Is it going to hurt?"

"Camellia, did it hurt?" Victor asks.

"A little bit," Camellia says, "But you're a superhero, Forest. A little hurt can't stop you!"

"Hold Daddy's hand," Victor reminds him. "Your awesome superpowers are gonna protect him from hurting too."

Forest grips his father's fingers so tightly that Victor can see the tautness of the muscles on the back of his hand, but to his credit, he sits still through the whole procedure and only sheds a few tears. He doesn't watch what's happening, but Victor didn't really expect him to.

When it's all over, Victor praises him as if he's just accomplished the most amazing feat in the world.

"Did it hurt, Daddy?" Forest asks tentatively. "Did my superpowers work?"

Fox hugs him close. "Your superpowers worked so well, I didn't feel a thing. You're such a brave boy, and I'm really proud of you," he tells him. He looks over at his daughter. "And you too, Camellia. You did great."

"Know who I'm proud of?" Camellia says.

"Who?" Fox inquires.

"Victor, 'cause he's the best vampire ever," she declares. "When I grow up, I want to be a science vampire, just like him!"

*****

A few days later, after the twins have been discharged from the hospital, Victor arrives at work to find a big yellow envelope waiting for him at the nurses' station. It's addressed to 'Vampire Okamoto-Nelson'.

His co-worker who hands it to him can't keep the grin off her face. She points to the writing on the outside of the envelope and says, "Happy Halloween."

Inside the envelope, Victor finds a handmade card. On the front is a drawing that was clearly done by Fox, of a nurse with silver hair and purple gloves. The cartoon nurse is holding a needle in one hand, and there are a pair of bats — a girl and a boy bat, judging by the bow and baseball cap on their respective heads — hovering over his shoulder. The banner at the top says 'To the Best Vampire Ever'.

On the inside of the card, Forest and Camellia have each written thank you messages to him. Their handwriting is wobbly and most of the words in the short note are misspelled, but it’s all still legible.

Victor puts the card on the staff bulletin board. He'll take it home after his shift, but it's too good not to share with everyone passing by in the meantime. He knows he's going to treasure it for a long time to come.

Happy Halloween, indeed.

#sapphire answers #writing #victor nelson #camellia abbottsford #forest abbottsford #fox abbottsford #stargazersims

[sherifftillman]

An Unambiguous Love [8/10]: The Set-Up

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10 ::

alternate AO3 link

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson x f!Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Your favourite customers really make it easier returning to the town you never went to school in. If only your friends at work would stop trying to play matchmaker between you.

Chapter 8 word count: 3401

A/N: Can you guys believe that by the end of the week this whole fic will be published? They grow up so fast :')

—[ meta ]—

Another Wednesday, another meeting of the Weekly Roundup. Now that it’s spring break, everyone who’s usually at school during the day can actually meet up at a decent time today. Nancy and Johnathan bring twice as many kids as usual, and Tiffany’s free to work enough to get a lunch break alongside Ralph. Sure, they only get 30 minutes before their lunch breaks are over, but at least the younger ones can be involved without it feeling inappropriate that they’re out for so long. And if everyone else thinks Robin’s plan could work, they really need those kids’ involvement.

Everyone’s in the strip mall's diner, squeezed around all the tables that they could possibly push together. Robin’s armed with the only resources she can get her hands on at the moment - crayons and the back of a colouring sheet. She draws lines to divide the page into six, and starts doodling to illustrate her plan: “Okay, so ever since we couldn’t join the three of them the other weekend, they’ve gotten closer than ever, so I’ve had an idea. What if… We set them up to hang out in less of a friendly way and more of an… Almost-date scenario? Spring it on them? So…” She starts drawing in the top left box. “Nancy and I will invite Y/N on a girls’ day out to the theatre, right? Then…” Another drawing in the next box, “Some of you kids get Steve out there -”

“Is that supposed to be Steve?” Dustin asks, laughter lacing his voice.

“Shut up, I’m not an artist,” Robin scoffs. “So, whoever thinks they can talk him into it, do that, then some of you others can talk Eddie into going,” she crudely draws a very simplistic interpretation of Eddie in the third box. “I’m thinking for these two,” she points at boxes 2 and 3, “perhaps you ask them to meet you there to take you to see Highlander or something, right, something R-rated that they’d be needed for.”

Mike groans, “Oh man, Will and I really wanted to see that.”

“Yeah, well, be patient a minute,” Robin holds her hand out before drawing in box four. “We’ll get there early, and Nancy, you work on the school paper with that guy who works in the theatre, right? Fred?” Nancy nods. “So you can give him a message, from all of us, saying how you, I dunno, suddenly got a major lead on a potential big scoop, and you saw the kids here too, and realised you needed their help urgently? We’ll work that out, but basically Fred will tell the three of them that we couldn’t make it. Hopefully, they’ll still go see the movie anyway, and then, Mike,” Robin glares at him, “we’ll all sneak in after, make sure they don’t see us, we try and get a vantage point so we can spy on them.” She draws rows of seats, along with several stick figures in different rows. “So if you guys wanna take one of the boys on, we’ll make sure you still get to see it, anyway.”

“What exactly are you gonna see? They’ll all just be watching the movie, right?” Lucas asks.

“Yeah, but if they think the other one is distracted by the movie, and they don’t think we’re around, they’ll have their guards down,” Nancy explains. “Between Robin and I, I think it’s safe to say we can spot any tells that Steve is into someone. I - I know, you do too, Dustin, but respectfully, you’re a little too obvious,” she looks at Dustin apologetically. 

“What about Munson, though?” Ralph asks. “It only sounds like you guys really befriended him recently, too.”

“Well…” Nancy laughs awkwardly. “I’m sort of hoping that since… How do I say this in the most polite way? It’s not as though Eddie’s social calendar is packed, so if he is… Interested, I’m hoping he won’t know how to be all that subtle about it when he thinks nobody else is looking.”

The kids laugh, and Robin shakes her head at them before drawing in the last box. “So yeah, we’ll watch, we’ll see what our findings are, and hopefully we’ll be one step closer to figuring this out.” She draws simple figures of Steve, you and Eddie, with arrows pointing between Steve and you, and you and Eddie, with hearts all around, making everyone laugh.

“I bet we’ve got the most chance of talking Steve into it,” Max looks to Lucas. “As much as I’d love to be there to plant seeds in Eddie’s brain, I think he’d probably rather take Mike and Will and make it some… D&D inspiration thing, and Steve would be more likely to assume he’d be chaperoning a date. Right?” She looks around, and the other kids nod in agreement, though Dustin looks reluctant.

“Anything we can do?” Tiffany asks excitedly.

Nancy and Robin look at each other and shake their heads, but Johnathan, stroking his chin, pipes up, “Maybe you guys could really convince Y/N that she has to see Highlander this weekend and not any other time. In case she just gives up and leaves, you know?”

“That’s a good point!” Nancy squeezes Johnathan’s arm. “See if you can recruit Cameron and… Whatever that other guy that’s there’s name is, get them to talk up the movie, too.”

Tiffany pulls a face. “I think my brother was hoping to see it anyway, so he’ll be positive about it, at least.”

"Oh god, you're related to that guy?! I'm so sorry," Robin reaches out to hold Tiffany's arm, and she giggles.

"So, we all agree on the plan, then?" Nancy asks, and everyone nods. "Excellent. Max and Lucas, you two can go with Robin and secure Steve before he inevitably goes over to the comic book store. And… Perfect, look who's right outside," she points through the window at what is obviously Eddie's black van parked in the lot. She looks to her brother, "You think you can go over and talk him into it real quick? Like, before Steve gets there?"

Mike rolls his eyes, "Of course I can, I led our part of the last plan up well enough, didn't I?"

She ruffles his hair, to his disgruntlement. Eleven laughs and does the same to him. Will grins and slowly moves his hand closer to Mike too, but Mike bats his away, to Will and El's further amusement.

“Actually…” Johnathan drums his fingers on the table. “Maybe Robin shouldn’t go back with them. If Steve knows that Robin knows he’s taking these two, and then suddenly everyone cancels, and Y/N lets slip that she was meant to meet Robin, too… I know Steve may not be the smartest, but between the three of them, they might figure out what’s up. Maybe we stagger it so that the kids go in first, ask at the same time, then Robin - ” Johnathan sighs, “but how are we gonna throw Y/N off the trail with Eddie if they’re both in there?”

“You’re real invested in this too, aren’t you?” Robin asks, amused.

“They’re good people, really,” Johnathan shrugs, “all of ’em. Whatever makes any of them happy.”

Will smiles widely at his brother’s compassion. Eleven suddenly sits up straight, and reaches out to hold Dustin’s arm. “I can ask… Questions. You can help me.”

Nancy nods, “Okay, not sure what that’s about, but I trust you two to be a distraction. Shall we file out now?”

—[ end meta ]—

“I should talk Cameron into getting you on the payroll here,” you muse as yet another newly-inspired future DM leaves the comic store, thanks to Eddie’s help.

He laughs with his tongue sticking out through his cheek as he walks over to you, “I don’t think anyone wants the Munson reputation officially tarnishing their store’s name, but nice try.”

“Oh please, like anyone here gives a shit about that,” you roll your eyes. 

Another ding of the doorbell distracts you, as you see Nancy’s brother, Johnathan's brother, Dustin and the girl called Eleven - but really named Jane - walk in. Mike and Will hurriedly back Eddie into the corner of the D&D section, so you turn to Dustin and Jane. “Hey, kids! Can I help you at all?”

“Wonder Woman,” Jane states plainly, before pointing over to the “new releases” aisle. “Not there.”

You pull a face, “Yeah, they got discontinued not long ago, sorry. But if you want more Wonder Woman, have you read Crisis on Infinite Earths yet?” Both she and Dustin shake their heads. “Surprised you haven’t, Henderson,” you narrow your eyes. 

“I didn’t want to read them all until they all come out, so I can tie everything together. I was gonna start this weekend,” he explains.

“There we go! Maybe Dustin could help explain the multiverse to you, then!” you suggest to Jane with a helpful smile.

She looks you dead in the eye. “No. You.” followed by, “...Please.”

“That’s… A lot for me to help explain to you, but I’ll try!” You take out a whiteboard to hopefully illustrate what you’re saying as well. “Okay, so there’s all these superheroes, they all make major changes to their own worlds, it’d be super conflicting if they all existed in the same universe. So there’s this guy, Krona, he’s a bad guy for the Green Lantern, he creates this machine to look at the beginning of time, but it shatters, and that creates the multiverse. All kinds of parallel universes are formed, including the Anti-Matter Universe, which leads to our main antagonist in this crossover. See, you’ve got the Monitor, who shows up in a lot of these franchises, who is designed to watch over all the multiverses, and make sure nothing accidentally crosses over, but he has an evil counterpart from the Anti-Matter Universe called the Anti-Monitor. With me so far?”

Jane says something under her breath about something being upside down, but Dustin takes over from her by saying, “Yeah, she gets it.”

“Right, so this guy, Pariah, he also tries to look back at the beginning of time, just like Krona did, and in doing so, the Anti-Monitor learns that Pariah’s Earth was destroyed by anti-matter. So the Anti-Monitor decides to travel through the multiverse to destroy all Earths that way, so that he can rule every reality. So the Monitor, the good guy, he starts recruiting heroes - and villains, even - from all universes to create these… Towers that should stabilise the multiverse and stop the Anti-Monitor. I won’t say any more than that, I’m not gonna spoil it,” you wave off. “But I think you’ll like it.”

“I… Think I will like it.” Jane smiles. “I will read them with Dustin.”

“You should come back and tell me what you think!” you beam. “We need more girls in here, honestly.” 

Jane lets out a small giggle. “I will tell Max as well. Max taught me about Wonder Woman.”

“She’s your redhead friend, right?” you ask, and Jane nods. “She’s in here a lot. I think she’s been buying the novels, too.”

“I will read them with Dustin,” Jane repeats. 

You hold your hands up. “Sure thing, you know best. But if you girls did wanna talk about it, I’m all ears,” you smile warmly, which is returned. “What about you, Henderson, anything new got your eye here?”

He pulls a face. “Not particularly. Nothing Steve hasn’t already bought for me, anyway. He’s, uh, real good like that, wouldn’t you say?”

You laugh, “Uh, yeah, he’s great! It’s… Sweet how he, and Eddie, and Robin, they all look out for you just as much as Nancy and Johnathan do, even without being related to any of you.”

“Yeah, but Steve does it the most, though,” Dustin insists. He looks as though he’s about to say more, when out of nowhere a whole rack completely falls down. 

“Oh god, how did that happen?!” you ask, jumping back. “Okay, let me just go and clean that - oh my god, and your nose is bleeding now, too!” You look at Jane, who has a trail of blood dripping down one nostril. “Let me go get you something from the first aid kit, here, try pinchi-”

You’re interrupted by Dustin, “It’s fine, she gets those all the time. Why don’t we help you clean up that mess?” He pulls a face at Jane as you walk past them, though you barely notice it.

As you start to pick everything up, Mike, Will and Eddie also come over to help, and over the commotion you barely hear the doorbell ring as Steve appears, signalling it’s time for your lunch break. He adds to the pile of people helping, which is starting to become more of a hindrance than a help. Your colleagues also mysteriously appear from the back room, telling you that they’ve got it covered and to get out for your break, already. You look over at Steve and Eddie, and motion for them to follow you out of the building.

[...]

Later that night, you’d had a phone call with Nancy inviting you to see Highlander at the movies on Saturday with Robin. You accepted, looking forward to a girls’ day out. You seemed to be quite in demand for the rest of that night, too, since Tiffany and Jesse were asking about your weekend plans the very next day. Tiffany seems really excited for you to see it. You assume it’s because she’s still a freshman, so she wouldn’t be able to go alone. You offer to take her along too, but she quickly declines, saying she has to work. So does Jesse, but he’s also very interested in talking about Highlander with you. Even Cameron chimes in at one point to simply tell you that you have to see it.

To your surprise, you’re not met with Nancy and Robin, but with Eddie and Steve, who both look even more excited than usual to see you, thanks to the added element of surprise. “Hey, what are you doing here?! I was just telling Stevie how weird it is we ended up here together!” Eddie grins.

“Hi! Oh my god! Yeah, I’m gonna be meeting Nance and Robin any second now, we’re going to watch -”

“Don’t you say Highlander!” Steve looks at you incredulously. “Literally, I’m waiting for Lucas and Max so they can go on… A cute little date, and then Eddie was talking about… What was it again?”

“Yeah, Will and Mike thought it sounded like something they’d wanna make a campaign out of, so I figured who better to take them than yours truly?” he gestures to himself with two hands, making you laugh.

“Sorry,” a bespectacled boy slightly younger than you pipes up from behind you. “Did I hear you say you’re waiting for Nancy? As in Wheeler?”

“Yeah, that’s me!” you reply, narrowing your eyes a little. “Why?”

“Nancy gave me a message to give you,” he begins, pushing his glasses up his nose. “She says she’s really sorry, but something came up all of a sudden, uh - apparently, school supplies have been going missing, and Robin saw the main suspect looking extra shifty, so she took Nancy to go find him. There were, like, four kids here too that followed them? Nancy said she was gonna use them as a sting operation-type deal. So, yeah. That’s my message.” He skulks back to behind his counter.

You groan, “Aw, I was so excited to hang out with the girls.”

Steve pretends to look offended. “You hear that, Eddie?” Eddie fully mimes being stabbed in the heart, stepping back until he collapses against a wall.

You laugh loudly. “Come on, guys, you know I like hanging out with you two the most. Why don’t we just… All go see it together? Since we’re all here, and wanting to go see it anyway.”

“I’m down,” Steve nods.

“Mike and Will might hate me for it, but maybe I can go watch it a second time with them,” Eddie smiles.

“Can I ask to be sat in the middle this time?” you ask quietly as you all line up to buy your tickets. “Last time I came to the movies, there was this creep who kept… Trying to do the yawn thing, you know? The -” you mime yawning and stretching your arm. “Except I’d never seen him before. And - I’d feel safer either being right at the end of the row, or with each of you on either side.”

“We can sit beside you, for sure,” Eddie nods, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, and if any guy shoots you a look you don’t want, just point them out to us, alright?” Steve says in a warning tone, and you nod. He softens afterwards.

You certainly enjoy the movie, though you feel as though your colleagues may have overhyped it. You occasionally glance over to either Steve or Eddie to gauge their reactions too. Sometimes you’d catch their eye because they were also looking at you already, sometimes your gaze caused them to look over at you. Sometimes it’d be a quick glance away again, sometimes it’d just be a smile shared between you, sometimes a silent conversation checking in with each other. This happens with both boys at any moment, and it feels nice to know that they care just as much about you as you do about them.

Once the movie ends, the three of you decide to head to the food court within the same complex as the theatre. You’re surprised to see Nancy, Robin, Lucas, Max, Mike and Will all sat there together, too. Robin’s the first to notice, nudging Nancy who looks over at the three of you and flusters, hurriedly pulling something into her bag. “Oh, my gosh, hi, Y/N! I am… So sorry, did Fred give you my message?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, I still got to see it,” you wave her off. “Sucks that we didn’t get our girls’ day, though!”

“Oh, we’ll definitely make room for one of those soon,” Robin promises.

“Did you get your guy?” Eddie asks.

“Huh?” Robin cocks her head in confusion, then makes a sound of pain and bends to relieve her foot, as Nancy shuffles away from her. You hadn't even noticed her move any closer.

“No, as it turns out, it was a false lead, in the end. Some… Pranksters in the same class as the guy we were tailing, they must have caught on that we were looking into the whole missing supplies thing, and decided to slip us a fake tip-off,” Nancy sighs, shrugging her shoulders. “We’re just, uh, getting some lunch and then Robin and I are gonna take the kids to see the movie ourselves, as an apology to them for roping them in. That way, you two can still talk with Eddie about it afterwards like you wanted, right?” Nancy looks to her brother and Will, who nod back, first looking at her and then at all of you. Mike’s movements seem to be more… Enthusiastic than usual.

Cogs in your head start turning. Why would they all ask you to meet up, then conveniently leave for the length of the movie, just to reappear in the same building as you right after? But why would Nancy and Robin set you up… To meet somebody… At the movies? Were they trying to set you up on a date? And if so, who with? Had they been talking to your colleagues? Were they wrapped in this little matchmaking war, too? Why invite both of them? Is one of them in on this? 

You’re pulled out of your train of thought when Eddie nudges you as Steve calls your name yet again. “Everything good? You wanna get something to eat?”

“Um… Actually, I - I think I’m just going to… Go home. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.” At least you’re not lying.

Both Steve and Eddie’s faces fill with concern. “Is everything okay?” “Do you need a ride?”

You shake your head. “I should make it home myself, I’ll just keep the windows down to get some air. Thank you, though,” you hold both their arms briefly and look between them, before flashing a smile in Nancy and Robin’s direction, waving round to all of the kids and excusing yourself.

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