#MY FIC

[eulogyblack]

#buona serata #tocame #fenty #lgbtpride #lucky strike #thighs #pulp #my fic #daisy #tumblr girls

[surielstea]

Territorial

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel was busy with work and Reader decided to go out alone, much to the males dismay

Warnings: Smut | Minors DNI | pwp | 18+ | p in v | oral sex (m receiving) | shadow play | bondage | angry/passionate sex | cum inside | creeps at a bar | reader’s kinda ditsy but we love her

4.4k words

"Az?" I call, peeking my head out the doorway. "Azriel?" I sing, padding down the hall when I don't hear him reply. I follow the golden tether connecting us to his office, only half-clothed with my unzipped dress dipping off my shoulders.

"Hey," I spot the male at his desk, eyes scanning over a form. He doesn't spare me a glance but replies with a quiet, "Hi."

"I called for you and you didn't answer," I take a few steps closer, leaning against his desk and holding the neckline of my dress up. "Yeah?" He mumbles as he continues writing, clearly not listening to what I am saying and filling the silence. "Can you help me?" I ask and he freezes, then finally turns to look at me, ears perking at the question. "The corset," I point to the back of my dress. "Ah," He nods but doesn't move from his seat.

Instead of his hands, it's shadows that move to my back, tightening around the strings and then pulling them tight. I frown slightly but don't move as I allow the darkness to tie the strings. When they're done they return to Azriel's side, swishing around like they were trying to get his attention too, but Azriel seemed busy.

We've been staying in the Hewn City for the past few days, Azriel had interrogations to see to, then paperwork, then more interrogations. So it was easier to stay in the Moonstone Palace for the time being.

My mate was busy quite often but he always made time for me, always. So what's so different now? It might've been shallow that I continued to hover at his side, waiting for him to give me some attention.

I watch what he's so intently writing, frowning at the way he didn't even spare me a second glance. "Take a break Az, we could go to the evening markets?" I suggest and it's like the words don't even reach his ears. "Or I could open a bottle of wine and we could cuddle in bed," I add in a light tune, running my hand down his arm.

It takes a few seconds for him to reply, for the words to even register. "Maybe another time," He brushed me off and my frown deepened. "I understand, sorry for bothering you," I grumbled, then left his office and closed the door with a particularly hard force.

I told him I understood, except I didn't. He worked for Rhysand, and of course, the High Lord is still his boss but if Azriel turned in an assignment a few hours late I doubted he'd get reprimanded in the slightest. If he was anyone else it'd be fine, but this is Azriel, the male who always makes time for me and never makes me feel like a burden.

But now I was standing in the hallway alone, and a little defeated.

I curse myself for being so sensitive and walk down the hall and into the kitchen. I open the door down to the wine cellar but before I can take the descent to the basement I realize I didn't want to drink alone. I sigh, closing the door.

It wasn't that I needed Azriel to be able to enjoy myself but he's got in my head, and now he's all I want.

I decided to pass the time by going to the evening markets on my own, he couldn't be mad at me for doing it by myself when I'd already offered to include him, right?

I scribbled down on a note that I was leaving and signed it with a heart before leaving through the front door without so much as a proper goodbye.

The evening markets were much different in the Hewn City than the ones in Velaris. Every vendor seemed to be trying to con or scam me.

I came across a cart, a skinny pale woman with thinning black hair stood behind the counter with dead eyes. I notice a young pair of twins huddling beside her long, ripped skirt.

She was selling gemstones. They were all fake, you could tell by the way they gleamed under the moonlight but that didn't make them any less beautiful. A specific blue stone caught my attention. I smile softly at the woman and give her my entire pouch of gold marks, enough for a month's worth of food if spent right. She begins shuffling through the coins and only takes what's owed out as I pluck the sapphire up.

"No, keep all of it," I brush her off with a wave of my hand. Her eyes widen as she stares at me in shock. I give her a kind smile. "Get them something nice," I gesture to the two girls the height of her waist. "Thank you," She bleats out and I nod with a gentle smile, pocketing the gem before waltzing away with a small pep in my step.

I come across another stand, this one with aisles of flowers leading towards the shopkeeper. I smile as I gaze at a bush of jasmine, the scent reminding me of Amren. I continue walking down the aisle, spotting moonflowers as big as my palm, and bouquets of chocolate daisies that somehow smelt like the enriching cocoa flavor I was so familiar with.

The clerk seemed busy so I didn't buy anything, just continued to walk until there was a snag at my skirt. My brows twitch and I look down to see one of the twin girls from earlier fisting the cloth in her hand. She doesn't say anything, just holds out a white rose. "For me?" I smile gently and she nods shyly.

I bend down and take the flower, breaking off all the thorns before reaching towards her and tucking the rose behind her ear. "There, beautiful," I compliment and she flushes pink. "Thank you," She whispers and my smile widens. "Thank you, too," I say, standing. She stared up at me in wonder. "Why don't you go snatch one for your sister as well?" I suggest and she nods before scurrying off back toward the flower market.

I turn on my heel, walking with my skirts in my hands as I continue my route down the dimly lit path, shops slowly dwindling away and mage lights flickering the further down the alley I go.

I grip the material of my skirt in my hands at the shift in the atmosphere, my steps speeding up, eager to get out of the eerie ambiance.

Hyena-like laughter echoes down the stretch of the brick road and my entire body tenses. I looked to where the sound had come from, three men sat on upside-down trashcans all talking amongst each other with shit-eating grins. It was rude to assume they were of any danger to me, but I was better off paranoid than ignorant.

I reach through my mental bond towards Azriel only to be met with unbreakable, obsidian walls. I frown, flattening my palms to the cold rock but it was entirely solid and I was locked out. I huff and thrust my own shields up, blocking him out too. Instead of passing by the three men, I step into the building at my left, a bar.

I enter the tavern with a slight panic in my step. I hadn't realized how safe Azriel made me feel until I no longer had his company.

The place was packed, every night in the Hewn City was a night for a drink, there were crowds but it was eerily quiet and I had eyes from every direction staring at me. I ignored the eyes and tried not to catch anyone's gaze as I walked towards the bar top, settling into an empty stool with torn leather that creaked when I put my weight on it.

A bartender immediately comes over to me and I order something light, only planning to pass the time here until I think Azriel learned his lesson and noticed that I didn't need him to have a good time. It was petty and something he probably already knew but I had to solidify that fact.

"What's a girl like you doing all the way out here?" A gravelly voice asked and I turned to the male beside me, his long, graying beard thick with what looked like food sprinkled throughout it. I fight back a grimace.

"A girl like me?" I arch a brow, not interested in telling him where I'm from. "Sure, the fancy clothes, shiny hair," He utters. "I bet that bracelet on your wrist costs more than my house," He scoffs. I look down at the bejeweled bracelet that I wear at a constant. "Well? How much?" He asks and I shrug. "It was a gift from my mate," I utter, not knowing the exact price— but with the amount of diamonds glinting on the piece of jewelry, the stranger wouldn't be far off with the estimate of his house.

"Mate?" He grunts and I nod. "Why aren't you with him now?" He demands, sticking his nose into my business. I nearly roll my eyes. What does it matter to him anyway? "He's working," I swing my legs back and forth. "And what's this male do for a livin' to be able to afford gifts like that?" He gestures to my wrist. "He's the Spymaster of the Night Court," I say, the male gulps down whatever fear bubbled up inside him at the title.

The bartender hands me my drink and I thank him with a gentle smile.

The stranger next to me turns away from me, instead going towards whatever poor girl is on the other side of him as I silently sip my sweet drink, swinging my legs back and forth as I gaze up at the ceiling, running my eyes along the cracks and crevices, attempting to think the way Azriel does, how he notices every single thing, analyzes every movement, every breath. I wish I could observe things like him, read him the way he reads me. I huff in defeat after growing bored from one minute of observing, instead sinking into my stool.

A few males throughout the night approach me but I tell them who my mate is and they immediately back off. I liked the idea of Azriel being so feared in places like this, how he had me blocked from his side of the bond and yet was still protecting me from every male who engaged.

There was a slight commotion behind me, mumbles and synchronized footsteps like everyone was rushing out of someone's way. I ignore it, keeping my eyes pinned to my half-full glass, debating on finishing it or just going home and cuddling up with a book, perhaps Azriel is done with work.

There's a sudden presence behind me, one that's vaguely familiar but nothing too keen. A hand comes down onto my shoulder and my spine straightens at the familarity. "For the last time, I have a mate—" I begin but then I feel shadows twining up my ankles, the scars on his hand, the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar.

"I know," He started and I whipped around, wrapping my arms tightly around the back of his neck. "Az," I greet, and even if I was just annoyed with him, it felt refreshing to have his eyes on me again. "I just had the most wonderful evening," I say as he intertwines his hand with mine and pulls me from my stool. I follow, forgetting about my drink while Azriel pays the bartender with a bill too large for what I ordered.

"I wish you had come with," I say as he pulls me through the crowd, well it wasn't much of a crowd anymore, his wings gave him a large enough frame that groups had simply split in half to accommodate for him, me in tow as he guides me through the path.

"And I went to the markets and bought this pretty gem," I pull out the blue sapphire. "Remind me of your siphons, don't you think?" I hold it up in the moonlight. He looked at it and gave a dip of his head, his mind still reeling as he pulled me away from the alleyway while I continued blathering on. "And there were these twin girls who were so adorable, and later one of them gave me a flower—" I was cut off as I was completely consumed by a familiar darkness, Azriel's hand tightening on mine as he pulled us through the shadow realm, the real world seeming so bright in comparison.

"Az," I pause, looking around at our house as we land, standing in the center of our bedroom. Not in the Hewn City, but Velaris. He had taken us all the way home. "What are we doing here? Did you finish your assignments?" I say, striding up to him and realizing only now that he had yet to say anything this entire time since the bar, I've just been prattling on about my evening while he only nodded, which was typical but, it felt different, there was something cold about him.

"Azriel? You okay?" I reach up towards his face but he catches my wrist before I can make contact. "Do you know how worried I was about you?" His tone is warm but there's a certain deathly flicker in his eyes that sent a chilling shiver down my spine. "There was nothing to be worried about," I mutter, pulling at my wrist but his hold doesn't yield. "You believe that?" He arches a brow but I was too undermined to nod.

"Love," He sighs, his hold loosens and I'm met with relief. "Do you know how many people in that court want me dead?" He tilts his head and I swallow thickly, I hated thinking about stuff like that and he knew it. "How many people want to hurt me the way I've hurt them?" He adds and all I can do is shake my head no.

"I need you to understand the only way to hurt me is by hurting you, make sense?" His hand comes to my cheek, angling my head to look up at him. I meet his stare and nod bashfully.

"I do understand, but, I’m fine," I argue. "I can handle myself, I promise I was safe," I stress and his gaze hardens yet again, now I've done it.

"I know you can handle yourself, but, just let me protect you," He sighs. "Why? I don't need your protection— in fact, you had me blocked out all night, so if I did need you, you wouldn't have even been able to save me," I express and he bristles. I shouldn't have said it, I know it'd hit him where it hurt but, gods, I was so sick of feeling so dependent, like I relied on him every waking hour since we mated.

Azriel never shouted, barely ever raised his voice. But when he did, he was a different male. Animalistic and feral, and entirely uncaged. Some sick part of me found it insanely attractive. His power was so immense I couldn't help but let it turn me on, shadows flooding the room as a vein bulged at his neck as he explained why I need to be more careful when on my own, but I was barely listening to his words, just his voice, his passion. The spine-shivering tone reaches the wrong parts of my body and leaves me clenching my legs, staring up at him helplessly as the smell of my arousal becomes apparent and he shutters, his words halting as he stares at me.

"Are you fucking serious?" He scoffs and I look down at the floor with a bright flush, attempting to hide what's already known. He takes a menacing step closer, hand coming to my chin and tilting my face up dauntingly slow, I avoid his gaze. "Look at me," He snaps and I do as he says immediately, eyes staring up into his, that familiar hazel analyzing every part of me like it always did. "You like it when I yell at you?" He asked and I swallowed thickly. "Answer me, love," He says, hand tightening on my jaw and I nod with creased brows. "Yes," I confess and I could already tell my panties were a mess.

"You gonna be a good girl and take your punishment?" He tilts his head and my pussy throbs in anticipation at the promise of discipline. Again, I nod. "Yeah? On your knees then," He commands and I waste no time before dropping onto the floor before him, staring up at him with shiny, wide eyes. "Open," He says and I part my lips, tongue lulling out. Two of his fingers immediately plunge down my throat while his other hand works at the ties of his pants. I move my own hands up, attempting to offer assistance but shadows are quick to twine around my wrists and pin them useless behind my back.

I close my lips around his hand, sucking on the two long, thick, and calloused fingers. I dip my tongue between them, coating them in my saliva as he curls them into the back of my throat, forcing me to gag on them, loving the sight of my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

He gets his pants down and his cock slaps up against his abdomen, hard and leaking pre-cum, his tip red and angry. I whimpered at the sight of it as he removed his fingers from my mouth, using my saliva to further lube himself for easier entrance. He strokes himself once, then another. "Please," I rasp out, needy for his cock. He knew just how badly I needed him inside of me.

He continues pumping his cock just in front of my lips, groaning out at the intense feeling of his hand. "Open," He repeats and again, I obey. The head of his cock slaps onto the flat of my tongue and I nearly moan at the salty taste of him, tears brimming the edge of my eyes as I run my tongue up and down the underside of his member, tracing the bulging vein.

I pulled at the restraints on my hands, whining in need of more as I suck on the head of him, swirling my tongue around his tip and pressing my tongue to the sensitive slit as he grunted in pleasure.

His hand finds the back of my head, gripping my hair roughly as moans slip from me. "Three taps, remember?" He asks and I nod urgently, remembering the safe code in case he went too far, but I knew I wouldn't be using that any time tonight.

He then thrust all of his length down my throat and I gagged on him, adjusting to his size of him was impossible as he continued to abuse my mouth, tears now free-falling onto my cheeks as his other hand found my neck, squeezing occasionally when I choked on him.

I struggled to breathe as he continued to pummel into my parted lips, his head tilted back in pure ecstasy as I sucked on him hard, bobbing my head. "Gods, you suck me off so good," He praised and I rub my thighs together for any form of friction but nothing could compare to his cock. I seal my lips around his base, jerking my head as I swirl my tongue underneath his cock, drinking every drop of his pre-cum, savoring the taste and eager for more but as he twitches he pulls away from my mouth, keeping himself from crossing that fine line of release. I cry out a whine, wanting the salty taste of him on my tongue now.

"Please, Az," I sob but he ignores the whine. "Get up, on the bed," He nodded his head toward the mattress as I rose from my knees, my wrists unbinding and allowing me to crawl up towards the pillows with shaky limbs. I go to turn around to face him but he stuffs my face into the pillow before I get the chance. My back bows as I struggle to breathe and his hold ceases, allowing me to lift only slightly from the bed. His hands come to the curve of my ass, my dress pushed up by shadows. He doesn't even bother with the ties of my corset and instead tears me free from the material, shredding the gown into pieces and discarding it onto the floor. I whimper as my panties follow without any other foreplay, the cold air breezing against my soaked cunt.

"Count five then I'll let you have what you want, okay?" His hands grope at my ass and I rise onto my elbows, my back arching up into his as he leans over me. I nod with a needy moan, reveling in the feeling of his scars on my skin.

His hand rises then comes down onto my ass, a loud smacking sound filling the room, my mewls quickly following. "One," I gripe, clenching the sheets in my fists as he gives me the second one, harder, the sting lingering and sending shockwaves up my spine. I stuff my face into the pillows as I call the number, so caught up in the pleasure of it all.

His third strike is joined with a cold shadow brushing against the apex of my thighs and I scream at the friction, the neglecting had grown so strong that I could feel myself dripping down my thighs, sopping wet for him. On the fourth smack, the shadows return, this time to stay, swirling around that familiar bundle of nerves and all thoughts leave me, completely consumed by the pleasure of it all. "What number was that?" He purrs beside my ear and I shutter. "Fuck— I, I don't know," I whine. "Oh c'mon, think hard you can do it," He directs, trailing kisses up the side of my ear but it was impossible to think about anything but those damned shadows circling my clit.

"Four," I reply with a hopeful lift to my voice. "Good, such a good girl," He hums, kissing just below my ear before landing one final slap to my ass, the skin red and stinging in pure pain, and I doubt I had ever been more turned on.

"You want me inside baby?" He asked with barely anytime for me to recover, biting at my earlobe as I cry out my reply, "Shit, Az please."

I feel the head of his cock press against my folds a beat later, lathering himself in my fluids as I clench around nothing, legs jolting as I arch up higher for easier entrance, showing just how much I wanted him.

His tip aligns with my entrance and I beg for him, for every inch of him. "Need you, please," My voice shakes and he rises from behind me, his hands coming down onto my thighs, gripping them tightly. Shadows pin my legs to the bed, restricting me from moving as his tip enters me only slightly. "Don't move," He commanded and I nodded, then he thrust all of him inside of me and I felt like I split in half.

I screamed, clawing at the sheets at the intense pain yet pleasure that quickly followed. My brows knot as his base slaps against mine and without much adjustment he begins to pound his length into me, pulling strings of moans from the base of my throat. "Fuck, you feel so perfect wrapped around my cock," He sighed out, head tilting back in pure relief, continuing to pummel into me with an unrelenting force.

"You ever g'na leave without me again?" He asks in a cold voice and I shake my head no. "Use your words," He tells, and my back bows at the tone of his voice, so fucking demanding. "No, never Az," I swallow the lump in my throat. "That's right, 'cause who do you belong to?" He asks, his lips on my neck. "You, all yours," I manage to say, words not coming easy as I was too distracted by the feeling of him thrusting up to what felt like my ribs. I moan his name loudly, head hanging low into the pillows as I arch, pushing further onto his cock, his tight balls slapping against my folds while he twitches against my sensitive walls, shadows coming to contact with my clit and doubling the amount of pleasure.

"Az I can't, I can't take any more," I rasp out as he places sloppy kisses on my shoulder, biting and sucking and licking on any bare skin he could get his mouth on. "You will though, won't you?" He said and I couldn't help but agree with him, knowing it'd feel close to death if he pulled out now.

The tip of his cock brushed over my most sensitive area and I shout in euphoric pain. He smirks against my skin and continues to toy with the area, easily hitting that deep place inside of me, molding me to him, stretching my walls to fit his cock and his alone.

Marking me like territory.

"Az, I'm gonna cum— I can't," I struggle to breathe at how tight my lungs felt, the knot in the pit of my stomach threatening to snap any second now. "Go ahead baby, make a mess all over my cock," He allows and his shadows pinch my clit, forcing me into that orgasmic high.

Warmth blooms in my hips as I find release, tears falling down onto the pillows as my legs shake in pure relief, pleasure racking through me like a wave of ecstasy.

His release followed mine, as I clenched around him from my high it forced him into spilling out his warm seed into my cunt, painting my walls white and making me his entirely. "Fuck," He grunts out. "You did good baby," He whispered softly, pecking my tear-stained cheek while slowly pulling out, his cum flowing out of me and down my thighs as I slump down onto the bed, exhausted.

"No sleeping yet, I won't be able to live with myself if you don't get proper aftercare," He ushered me out of the bed as I sat up with a whine. He smiles softly then picks me up, carrying me princess-style towards the bathroom. I marvel at how easily he switched personalities, shifting between Azriel and the Spymaster so easily.

"Alright pretty girl, let's get you cleaned up."

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#suriels tea #acotar #fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #x reader #request #azriel #acomaf #bat boys #azriel smut #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar smut #x you smut #x reader smut #anon request #fanfiction #x you #fem reader #reader insert #x reader acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #x female reader #requested fic #my fic #i need him #so bad

[ncis-nerd]

Our Princess

princess reader x servants!wandanat

warnings: cheating, pevert wandanat, jealousy, innocence kink, smut, pet names, slight non-con, dubious consent, oral (r receiving), dom!wandanat.

marvel masterlist

They knew what they were doing from the first moment they laid eyes on you. Fuck you were so perfect, the way your eyes widen when you giggled. How your dress rode up when you were watching TV. How innocent you were.

Your first interaction was when the two ladies were cleaning up. Wanda was washing the dishes in the kitchen with her apron on, Natasha sweeping the floors. That's when you wandered in, barefooted in a pink nightgown.

"Oh! Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you guys!" you exclaimed, backing out of the kitchen. Natasha shot Wanda a smirk. Wanda met her gaze, they both were thinking the same thing- how fun messing with you would be.

Wanda bowed in your presence, "Don't mind us, princess." She purred. You, oblivious to their tactics, hummed in response. Making your way to a cabinet that was a bit too high for you. You stood on your tippy toes, your hand attempting to grasp the handle. In the process, your nightgown begins to ride up, giving the two women a view of your flowery underwear.

Fuck you looked so good like that, Natasha bit her lip. Wanda smacked Nat's arm, you were dating Maria and were their boss. You could ruin their lives with the flick of the wrist. But you were so addicting, they couldn't resist.

From that moment on, they'd try everything to be in your path but you suspected nothing. They were just trying their jobs, that's why you caught Wanda folding your underwear and Natasha sweeping the living room floor while you were trying to watch TV.

---

You hummed, reading a book in your little sundress. You were tanning in your backyard by the pool. Maria, your girlfriend, was coming over to hang out with you. The sun was particularly hot today so you figured why not spend the day outside.

You had sunglasses on, that protected your eyes and a towel draped over your chair. You couldn't wait to play with her in the pool. Maria is your girlfriend and she's the same age as you. You guys went to school together and Maria admitted her love for you so the logical thing to do was to get together. At first you were hesitant but not for the reasons Maria thought. No, it wasn't internal homophobia, it was the fact that you hadn't been with anyone before. But Maria didn't mind your lack of experience.

"Hey hun, your girlfriend is here." Natasha spoke, ratherly harshly but nonetheless drawing your attention. Wonder what must of gotten her upset.. Your eyes followed her as she went back into the house. The door opened behind her, your girlfriend came out.

"Mar!!!" You squealed, running into her arms. She smiled and picked you up, "Hey princess!!" She chuckled, carrying you bridal style, to the seats. "Missed you" you mumbled in her arms.

--

Wanda and Natasha watched from the windows. A feeling of jealousy sprang from this. It should be them out there with you. For you to run into Wanda's arms and Natasha to be the one carrying you.

For it to be their bodies against you, not that girl who couldn't care for you like they did. You needed real women to teach a delicate thing like you.

Natasha bit her lip as she watched Maria's hand rest on your ass. The way a innocent kiss from you, turned into Maria climbing onto of you. She began to leave kisses on your skin, marking you up. Maria looked up for a second, making eye contact with the two servants. She knew they were watching and was testing them. Daring them to try and stop this, to try and take her girl.

--

You whimpered softly, you couldn't believe this was happening. Maria straddled you and began to bite and suck on your skin, leaving hickeys all over you. "Mar, that hurts" you mumbled against her. "Let me have my way with you doll, I promise you'll be satisfied by the end." She pushed,

The two women watched this interaction and saw it unfold. The way you were pushing back against Maria, how she ignored your protests and just dismissed you. They had enough.

"Maria your parents called, they said it was an emgerncy and they need you home" Wanda spoke. Maria jumped off of y/n and hurried out after giving her a little peck on the forehead and a quick "goodbye".

--

After a moment of silence, Wanda made her way to you. You were sitting on the chair, your chest covered in marks from your girlfriend. A slight pout on your face. "What's the matter, dear?" Wanda cooed, Natasha coming up behind you with the same faux concern. "Yeah darling, what's got you all frowny? Hm?" Natasha hummed.

"Maria" you mumbled sadly, you didn't know why your girlfriend was suddenly acting like that. She said she'd take things slowly for you, but maybe it was going too slow for her liking.

"Awe, princess." Wanda whispered, stroking your back gently. "You know honey, we saw what happened. I think the problem is that you are such a delicate thing and your girlfriend doesn't understand that. A little thing liek you needs a real, mature woman fo help you navigate." She purred.

--

"I think she might be ready for us Wanda, this seems like the perfect timing." Natasha whispered in the hall, trying not to let you hear the conversation between the two of them. "I don't know Nat, she seems like she isn't interested. You saw how things went down with Maria. A simple kiss turned her off." Wanda protested.

--

Your face turned red, you were still thinking about what Natasha said earlier. How they'd treat you right, that you needed a mature woman teach you.

You began to feel an ache between your thighs. It was so wet and sticky, you didn't know what to do, so the only logical thing to do was to go ask the pair.

Your pillow bumps your clit as you make your way off your bed. You jolt in response, that feels weird but a good kind of weird. You attempt to gain that feeling back, of course not knowing what you're doing due to a lack of experience. Your hips rut against your pillow. You sigh gently, biting your lip to stiffle any sounds. A moan escapes your lips when suddenly you hear a voice hum in amusement.

You turn around to be greeted with Natasha's eyes which focused on the wet spot of your pillow and Wanda who was only smirking at you. Her eyes on your chest. Your nipples were hard and peeked through your thin tank top.

"H-How long have you been standing there?” you froze.

--

"Mhm" you cried out. Fuck, you looked so good like this, they just wanted to take you but they restricted themselves. A fragile little thing like you needs to be treated like a princess. Natasha's tongue circled your clit, your hips buckled against her. "She's so responsive." Natasha mumbled against you, the comment directed towards the other servant.

Wanda had you against her, your back to her front. She held your hips in place for Natasha. "There, there, it's okay princess. If it's too much just let me or Natty know" She whispered softly.

inspired by @esouliie

#my writing #my fic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff angst #black widow x reader #wandanat fluff #wandanat fic #wandanat smut #wandanat x reader #wandanat #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wandanat x reader smut #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x you #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #wanda x natasha #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximommy

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 63

part 1 | part 62 | tumblr masterlist | ao3

cw: references to canonical horror. short update today while i restructure some stuff in the next scene <3

“I’m staying with him,” Steve says, toeing a weed in the soft soil. Testing the give. Thinks maybe he’ll be doing that for the rest of his life. 

“Uh,” Robin objects. They’re at the top of the hill again, halfway to the car — everyone but Eddie, who refused to leave the boathouse after telling them in horrific detail how a cheerleader floated up to the ceiling and popped like a cheap balloon, and whose pale, frightened face Steve can see staring at them through a grimy window, two black dots hardly daring to blink. 

“Steve.”

“Huh?” 

Max calls him a total space-case.

Robin groans up at the sky. "As much as we would all love to have a spooky sleepover with you two under a tarp—”

“Mm, would we love that?” Dustin wonders. 

“—I'm not so sure our parents would be too thrilled about us not coming home when there's a freaky evil killer magician on the loose!"

Max snorts at that; mutters under her breath. “My mom probably wouldn’t mind.”

Dustin whines, “Mine would!”

Three people turn in unison to lay into him for being a dick, but he’s already holding up his hands in surrender, cringing so hard it folds his face like crumpled paper. “Sorry,” he winces. “Sorry. That was rude.”

“Yep,” Max agrees with a flat smack of her lips.

Eddie's still waiting by the window.

Steve just nods at them — arms folded, shoulders broad. "Dustin’s right.” He turns to Robin. “You both are.”

“Thank you,” she sighs, the sound long and airy, sweet with relief that he's seen reason.

She takes a wide step toward the car.

Steve says, “Which is why I'm staying here, and you're all going home."

Her foot falls back down to the ground; legs stretched in a standing split, shoes slipping on wet grass. “Oh, my god." This sigh is sour. "Oh, my god, of course you are.”

“We’re not leaving you,” says Dustin.

“Wasn’t asking,” Steve replies.

Robin lets out a strangled noise of frustration and shimmies herself upright. "Steve, please!" She marches over. "I know you’re all” —her hands come up around her head, voice warbling; wooOoo-ooh— “about your boyfriend-slash-not-boyfriend-slash-whatever being in danger, and I get that, babe, I really do, but I don't! Know how! To drive!"

Steve turns to Max. 

She’s looking right at them, mouth pinched in a flat line over the laugh she's holding back. Restrained as ever, but Steve can see the glimmer of excitement at the edge of her expression — the subtle twitch of her nostrils, the muscle jumping in her jaw. 

I've driven it before. 

"...Do not," he warns as he presses his keys into her palm; closes her fist around the metal, "fuck this up."

—

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fic

[mochalate]

[1] new notification!

msby!atsumu x reader || w/c: 1.9k ft. questionable methods of contacting the paparazzi. [<- read intro][ch 2->]

Atsumu’s last elementary school report card— faithfully stored by his mother in a sturdy carton in her closet, along with her other important documents— has near perfect grades, and only one comment from his teacher. 

Atsumu chooses to deal with matters, both academic and personal, in an independent and determined manner.

By the time middle school was over, Atsumu hadn’t changed; but the comment sure had.

Atsumu prefers not to ask for assistance even if he is having trouble with his work. I would like to see him asking for help or clarification when required.

Then in highschool, he’d learned how to bite back his pride enough to earn an approving ‘Atsumu is an active participant in his learning’ by the end of his third year.

And now look at him, asking strangers online for help without a second thought. Old Mrs. Yamada from Yako Middle School would be so proud. 

Atsumu wonders how she’s doing. He idly types her name into the search bar, and immediately finds an obituary. 

He blinks at the pixelated picture of her sweet, smiling, deceased face; and tries to decide if he should take this as a portent regarding the consequences of asking for help, or as a reminder of the relentless march of time.

Time, which you and Osamu were spending together at this very moment.

Atsumu has to resist the urge to bang his head against one of the lockers. 

 He tries his best not to think about it; but it’s early afternoon, he’s done with practice, the last one in the locker room, and unfortunately, has far too much time to not only think about it, but vividly picture it too. It’s like a goddamn movie in his mind, complete with subtitles. 

(They’re hard coded in; because of course, he’s third wheeling so hard in this scenario, he had to resort to watching said movie on the shadiest of websites, battling the pop up ads telling him about the hot singles in his area— just to rub salt in the wound.)

It went like this: you and Osamu are baking a cake together. You tell Osamu he’s got flour on his face, giggling for some reason, and he asks where. So you point to your nose, and he smears some on your face with a grin. Barf. 

Oh Osamu, you’re so much more fun than Atsumu, you say, all doe-eyed. Your subtitles are pink. The sweetest thing I’m allowed to make him is sugarless raisin bran cookies.

Yer damn right about that, Osamu replies (looking right at the camera, deadpan), Let’s get married just so we can not invite him to the wedding.

Okay, maybe Osamu wouldn’t go that far. 

And maybe it wasn’t fair to hold the raisin bran cookies against you like that. He really did think they were chocolate chip; but in hindsight, it wouldn’t make much sense for his nutritionist to be giving those to him when he was supposed to be on a high-protein diet.

(Sue him, he thought you had enough of a soft spot for him to sneak him a treat.)

Atsumu sighs, and unlocks his phone again to pull up the post from last night. There are a few more replies— some calling it a fake story, a few asking for an update, and one person inexplicably telling him to go no contact with his brother. 

Ridiculous. The whole idea was ridiculous; and surely msbygirlie (bless her) would eventually see through his half-assed attempt at disguising who he was.

His index finger hovers over the delete button. 

And then his eyes land on that reply he’s been thinking about since last night. 

well you don't have to talk to either of them... you said someone took the original photo. maybe they're still stalking?? ask them what they think?

It was insane. He’d be adding fuel to a fire that was dying down. It would drive the publicist crazy. 

He wants to do it.

(Fuck, he’s going to do it.)

Atsumu Miya’s Guide to Finding and Trapping Your Local Paparazzi

Set a live trap in the location you expect your target to be.

“Shoyo,” Atsumu calls out, as he spots his wing spiker near the gymnasium exit, “ya free right now?” 

Hinata comes to a halt with a little hop, somehow still full of energy despite the full training session. “More or less. Why?” 

Why? Because Sakusa would scoff and walk away, stopping only to report his plan to Meian; and because Bokuto would accidentally blab and give him up, probably during a livestream. (She reprimanded them a lot, but really, it was him and Bokuto keeping the publicist employed.)

“I need yer help catching a pest. Want to take a walk with me?”

2. Bait the trap.

Atsumu stops abruptly at the crossroads. He snaps his head toward the convex mirror on the corner just in time to see a nondescript man, with a baseball cap pulled low over his face, ducking into the small general store just behind them. It’s quick— the doors are already propped open since it’s not quite warm enough to justify running the air conditioning.

Perfect.

Hinata nudges his elbow. “Why did we stop? Do you want something to drink?”

Atsumu takes a deep breath. “Do ya trust me, Shoyo?”

He looks perplexed at the question. It’s not an expression that’s often on Hinata’s face, so Atsumu takes a moment to appreciate the novelty.

Of course, it’s gone in a second; replaced with his natural enthusiasm. “Oh, did you want to practice at the park? I see, you wanted to bring me to a different environment because our rapport on the court was—”

Atsumu claps his hands over Hinata’s shoulders, lowering his voice. “If ya trust me, do exactly as I say. Go to the park. Got it? Do not follow me. Go straight to the park.”

“Aren’t you coming with—”

Atsumu fills his lungs with air, and firmly plants his feet on the ground. 

(A quick glance in the mirror at the man with the baseball cap. Still there. Good.)

Forgive me, Shoyo.

“GOOD LUCK ON THE DATE!” he says as loudly as he can, before it's shouting. 

Hinata goes red, sputtering. “Huh? Date?”

Atsumu claps his shoulders again, and gives him a subtle push. Hinata, still wide-eyed, stumbles along in the direction of the park, glancing back over his shoulder a few times. 

3. Wait.

Atsumu jogs the long way around the block to get to the park. 

It only takes five minutes of lurking behind a row of vending machines, and feeling a little sorry for Hinata who’s sort of nervously wringing his hands on a bench— he's the only other person in the park at this time on a school day— before the man in the baseball cap shows up. 

A camera is slung casually around his neck. The recording light is taped over. He’s so fixated on Hinata, he doesn’t notice Atsumu as he saunters up the path towards the machines.

(Which, all things considered, was quite surprising— Atsumu is not a small man.)

“Hey,” Atsumu says, once Baseball Cap is close enough. “Long time, huh? Two things. One, give me your camera. I know it's recording. And two, I have a few questions.”

4. Dispose of your paparazzi responsibly and ethically.

Fifteen minutes later, Atsumu is no closer to the truth; and is considerably more irritated.

“What am I supposed ta do with that?”

“Is he going to hit me?” Baseball Cap anxiously asks Hinata, “Can you hold my camera if he’s going to hit me?”

“Atsumu wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Hinata assures him. 

“I ain’t gonna hit ya, ya scrub! Don’t you go writin’ that up on yer damn blog next.” He pinches his nose, trying to calm himself. “I’m done with ya, go home. But wipe the memory card in front of me first.”

r/relationship_advice • 1 hour ago

u/fattytuna95

UPDATE: I want to ask out my twin brother's girlfriend.

I didn’t want to come back here again, but I don’t know what to do.

Like one of you suggested, I asked the guy who took the picture. You were right. He's been following them.

(Creepy as hell, to be honest, but he didn't seem like a bad dude. And he was pretty skinny. Guess being a privacy invading douche doesn't pay well. I think even my female colleague could take him down if she tried, so that's fine.)

What he told me is this: she stayed overnight at his place twice this week. 

Now I know what you're thinking. It's a lost cause. Pack it up and move along. Right? 

No.

Here's the thing— I was worried my brother was developing feelings for her, and I still am, but if they were already sleeping together he would have told me. There's something else going on here. I mean on top of the fake dating bullshit.

And for some reason, they're not telling me.

How do I find out what without telling them how I know?

↑ 65 ↓ •••

u/unicornpoodle • 4 minutes ago

wowww

dude, are you sure you want to keep going through with this? There's a lot of things you can unsee but walking in on your  brother fucking your crush is probably not one of them...

(and you're a twin to boot! You'd see exactly what could've been. Now that'll mess you up!)

↑ 15 ↓   •••

u/fattytuna95 • 4 minutes ago Shut up!!! I don't want to think about that!!!!!! ↑ 10 ↓   •••

u/guiltyassassin_ • 10 minutes ago

lol I was lowkey joking about asking the guy, didn't think you'd actually do it. good for you. but uh, I might be with poodle on this one. you don't want it to be true, sure. but maybe they just didn't tell you? so it wouldn't be awkward at work?

↑ 12 ↓   •••

u/fattytuna95 • 9 minutes ago I shared a womb with the guy. I'm sure. You're an only child, aren't you? ↑ 12 ↓   •••

u/msbygirlie_13 • 5 minutes ago

This is exciting!! I don't agree with everyone else, I think you should get to the bottom of it!!! Like atsumu said in his volleyball monhtly interview in june '21, the game isn't over until the ball falls to the floor!!!!! the ball is NOT on the floor yet!

maybe you should go over to your brother's apartment and see if there's any evidence.and you should just show up. don't give him any time to clean it. you can do that right???

↑ 12 ↓   •••

u/fattytuna95 • 5 minutes ago Hmm that could work actually. I've been there so much, I'll definitely notice if something's out of place. ↑ 10 ↓   •••

u/unicornpoodle • 3 minutes ago are you saying this because you believe in it, or because you want more update posts? this shit is going to be hilarious ↑ 5 ↓   •••

u/msbygirlie_13 • just now ofc I believe in everything atsumu says, omg!!! he's the best, fattytuna will agree with me. ↑ 1 ↓ •••

Osamu frowns at the cloudy night sky as he pulls the shutters down over Onigiri Miya's window. The moon is hidden, only a hazy hint behind the grey.

"Looks like rain," he comments, glancing over his shoulder. "Sorry I kept ya waitin'. We should've just done it another night."

Behind him, standing under the streetlight, you can already feel the tiny droplets drizzling on your face. But you shake your head. "I can just stay over again. We always end up losing track of time, and your place is closer to work than mine anyway."

The lock in Osamu's hand clatters against the corrugated metal. "Want ta move in and really sell it?"

You roll your eyes. "I would, but we're not a good match. We'd feed each other too much and end up gaining so much weight."

He chuckles. "Hey, at least I can appreciate raisin bran cookies. Ya won't catch me spittin' food outta my mouth."

You laugh at that. It wasn't his fault, you want to say, smiling fondly at the memory. He didn't realise I was joking about it being chocolate chip.

"Hey, Osamu?"

"Yeah?"

"Should we just tell him?"

now what could they be up to? [my other fics->] please leave a like/reblog/reply/send me an ask if you enjoyed! <3 divider @/cafekitsune

#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu fluff #my fic

[my-castles-crumbling]

Okay, when someone, someday, inevitably checks my search history, I would like that person to know that "men in lace lingerie" was for a fic 👀.

As was "ways to describe torture."

#fic writing #marauders fandom #marauders fic #my fic #marauders fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

into you

Summary: After almost giving up the hope to become a big actor you get offered the leading role in a period drama, leaving you to spend three months in Scotland with your male co star Dieter Bravo and maybe falling in love with him.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.247

Rating: T

Warnings: fluff, falling in love, implied smut, kissing, really cheesy movie lines I made up, confessions of feelings, reader is in her late thirties, Dieter playing the piano

A/N: Another one for  @undercoverpena April showers challenge! What's better than a Pedro character in period clothing in the rain? Making out with him hehe

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

You couldn’t sleep. 

The moon was shining hrough the window of your hotel room, an old castle in the middle of nowhere somewhere in Scotland. 

You had come here almost three months ago, having gotten the first big job of your career, the lead role in a period drama. The first lead role you ever got. The first big job you ever got. 

For years you dreamed of being a big movie star. 

Much like every young person who came to LA. 

Which had been almost twenty years ago. You had been about to quit trying for that one big role that would finally grant your your big success last year. 

By now well in your thirties (the forties getting closer and closer), not having any major success apart from some multi episode secondary character on some netflix shows in the latest years, you gave up hope that you would make it. 

Sometimes the residuals you got from playing Chandler Bing’s awkward girlfriend for two episodes almost twenty years ago on friends had been the only way to pay your rent.

You were looking into going back to school when your agent called you, talking you into going to this last audition. It had been as a favour to them that you agreed, the contracts between you and the agency already canceled towards the end of the month. 

They had always believed in you and you hated saying no to them because of that reason. 

Maybe it was you having nothing to lose that left you going into the audition and blowing them all away. Not that you thought you did until your agent called you not even twenty minutes after you went out of the audition, asking you to come back to read opposite the male lead. 

Still you didn’t let yourself getting your hopes up, walking back into the office building, back into the room you had been in before, now with an additional face smiling warmly at you. 

You didn’t know that in the next two hours your whole life would change. 

Not just because they offered you the job. 

No, It was the day you met Dieter Bravo.

Of course you knew who Dieter Bravo was. 

You had admired him since he starred in the high school drama series you definitely did not tape every episode from when you were in your teens. 

And there had been no posters of him in your room growing up, nope. 

But like almost every teen crush, it faded over the years. 

You grew up, and he did too. You knew he had won an Oscar some years back, you saw the movie in the cinema back then. 

He had made headlines after that, naming him the next big thing. 

But lately the only headlines you remembered of him had been of his drug escapades and dating life. 

So you had been a little reserved when you first met, hoping he would be professional enough throughout the audition. 

Hope you shouldn’t have had, because Dieter had turned out to be professional in every single way.

Now, after spending almost two months with him, playing opposite of him, acting that you were in love with him, you found yourself wishing he would be a little less professional. 

Groaning you sat yourself up in your bed, clicking the lamp on the bedside table on, reaching for your phone. 

2:43 am. 

Taking a deep breath and releasing a long sigh as you exhaled you let your head fall back. 

In twenty four hours you would be on a plane back to the states, already on your way to shoot your next movie, your career seemingly finally starting off now that you were starring in a movie with Dieter Bravo. 

You should be beyond happy. 

Everything you dreamed off finally seemed to come true. You had three jobs lined up that would pay more than you had made in the last ten years combined. 

Yet the thought of waking up every morning and not getting to spend the day with Dieter made it all bittersweet. 

You had spent a lot of time together since getting to Scotland to shoot this movie. Not only on set, but apart from it too. He had been here before, shooting another movie and invited you out some times, showing you around. You had dinner together almost every night be it in an restaurant he wanted to show you or in the hotel. You got to know the man behind the persona you learned he put on for the public for and over the last weeks you had found yourself falling for him. 

Your fingers cam up to brush over your lips, the lips he had kissed. 

More than once. 

In front of the camera. 

But before you went to bed tonight, he walked you to your room and he had kissed you good night. Without cameras rolling. Without people around. Just you and him. His warm hand on your cheek, your back pushed against your hotel room door as he towered over you, his other hand resting on the door behind you. 

You were out of breath when he parted from your lips, wishing you a good night, leaving you watching after him with your lips parted, your brain still trying to process that he had just kissed you, as he went down the hallway until he disappeared into his room. 

You were too giddy to sleep, getting an old sweatshirt on before you grabbed your hotel key and walked out of your room, hoping he was as sleepless as you were and downstairs where you had found him often during your stay. 

You could hear the faint sound of a piano as you entered the lobby, the night manager giving you a small smile as you walked past, following the sound. 

In the far back corner of the lobby was a piano where you found Dieter playing a melody you did not recognise. 

You had found him here before, in the beginning when you could not sleep because you were too nervous to fuck this big chance you got up. 

He told you that his art supplies hadn’t been shipped yet, and that he usually painted when he couldn’t sleep.

And so instead he played. 

And you listened, sitting next to him until you both almost fell asleep, before he walked you to your room, only to be up some hours later to shoot a movie where his character denied to be in love with your character, pushing your character away until a big dramatic scene where you would finally admit your feelings to each other. 

Sitting down on the seat next to him as he played now, you let your head fall against his shoulder, hearing him inhale as he continued to play. 

His lips brushed against your temple and you closed your eyes, just listening to his song. 

When he finished you looked up at him, his eyes were already on you, an unreadable expression on his face. 

„Couldn’t sleep?“ he asked. 

You hummed in agreement. 

„Too many thoughts in my head,“ you whispered and he nodded. One of his arms came to wrap around your back, pulling you closer against his side. 

„You wanna talk about those thoughts?“ he asked and you chuckled. 

„Don’t wanna fuck the big scene up tomorrow, well today,“ you said and he gave you a small smile. 

„If someone is gonna fuck up it’s me. You make me keep forgetting my lines,“ he winked and you felt your cheeks growing warm, remembering the many occasions Dieter had seemingly spaced out during some scenes, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t place. 

„What do you mean?“ You asked, and he sucked his bottom lip in, before he shrugged and there it was again, that expression in his face, his eyes big as he looked at you. 

„I can’t stop looking at you. You’re so talented and beautiful and kind and so damn intelligent. Sexy….,“ he winked „You just blow me away and it’s like my brain stops working when I look at you sometimes. I never really felt like this before…“ he whispered and you blinked at him. 

„What I am trying to say is, I like spending time with you. I like talking to you. I like kissing you, touching you,“ he grinned and you huffed. 

„Especially when it’s just the two of us. Last week when the director called cut when we were in bed….“ He closed his eyes, shaking his head. 

You had rushed off after finishing the scene with him, having to take care of the ache between your legs in the bathroom after spending almost six hours in bed with him, shooting numerous sex scenes.

„I wish we had been alone,“ he whispered his face getting closer to yours, his lips brushing over yours. 

„Dieter,“ you whispered, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his lips pressing against yours and you shivered. 

„Yeah?“ He asked. 

„We are alone now,“ you whispered and he nodded, before he kissed you again, deeply. 

„Would you like to have sex with me?“ He whispered and your lips twitched into a grin which he mirrored before he kissed you again. 

„Take me to your room, Dieter,“ you said, giggling when you found yourself pulled in the direction of the elevators in the next moment. 

„This is madness,“ you shook your head, the rain coming down on you without mercy, drenching your many layers of clothes. 

„Why? Why is it madness that I have fallen for you?“ Dieter asked, in character, his white shirt clinging to his chest. 

You huffed a laugh, your character in denial about the feelings not only she had, but he had too. 

„Because we are both engaged. And not to each other. We have to end this. I have to….“ You shook your head, closing your eyes, before you looked up at him. Dieter having closed the distance between the two of you, but not close enough to touch. The raindrops where running down his nose, his hair clinging to his face. 

He looked like a wet dream straight out of a Jane Austen novel.

„All these times we spend in each others arms, they don’t mean anything to you?“ He asked. 

„It was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened,“ you said, Dieter’s character seeing right through your lie. 

„Do you love me?“ He asked and you did not have to play the small smile that sneaked to your lips for only a moment before you fought it down. 

„It doesn’t matter,“ you said, turning away from him, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you before you could go. 

„It matters to me. ,“ he whispered, broken, and the tone of his voice made you want to cry. 

The rain continued to fall as you gave the camera time to capture both of your faces. 

„Of course I love you,“ you finally said, looking at him over your shoulder. 

„Then stay,“ he pleaded. You began to shake your head, when he pulled you against his chest, one of his hands on your cheek, brushing your hair that stuck to your face to the side, his eyes gazing deeply into yours. 

„Stay and allow yourself to be happy,“ he said, almost begging. 

„Stay here and let me love you,“ he let his forehead fall against yours and your eyes dropped close, pictures of the night he had spend with you filling your mind, the way his forehead had rested against yours as he filled you over and over and…

You opened your eyes and Dieter’s lip twitched for a second, having caught your unintended pause.

„What about our families?“ you asked, „What about my sister? She’s in your house getting ready to marry you today,“ you asked. 

„They will understand. They have to. And if they don’t, I’ll take you away where we can live our life without the judgement of others. You’ll never have to worry for money.I love you, please be with me,“ his nose brushed against yours. 

You felt his other hand on your lower back and you gasped. 

„Then take me away,“ you whispered, feeling his smile against your lips as he finally kissed you, your arms wrapping around his broad back, fingertips brushing over his drenched clothes as he deepened the kiss. 

The first thing you realised when Dieter parted from your lips was that the rain had stopped and that it was quiet around you. Too quiet. 

Looking at Dieter he gave you a sheepish smile before you looked around, finding the crew around you looking at the both of you, Dieter’s PA holding two robes in his arms, giving you a wide smile. 

„You gonna listen when I call cut now?“ The director teased with a wide grin and you let your head fall against Dieter’s chest, mortified, but he just chuckled, before he helped you get into the robe his PA had brought over. 

„We’ll meet in an hour for the wedding scene, do not be late,“ the director reminded everyone, giving you and Dieter a longer look, and you nodded. Dieter grabbed your hand, and you looked at him. 

„Can’t wait to marry you,“ he winked and kissed you again, before you both were rushed off from the set to get ready. 

And you did actually get married. 

Seven months later.

On a beach. 

In the rain. 

Without any interruptions. 

#undercoveraprilshowerschallenge #my fic #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo fanfic

[moonlightperseus]

breathe in the feeling

ambiguously set after the first half of s7 | 867 words

Being in love with Buck wasn’t an option.

It can’t be an option.

Because if it was, Eddie might do something stupid, like kiss his best friend.

Which is—not an option.

Eddie’s done that song and dance before, and that ended badly—leaving and being left, divorce papers, blood on hot asphalt.

But the thing is, Eddie can’t stop thinking about it. It’s been over a month since Buck came out to him, and Eddie can’t stop thinking about how Buck is an option now.

Which isn’t even entirely true, because Buck is with Tommy—Buck is happy with Tommy—and Eddie feels like his entire world is collapsing in on itself.

He broke up with Marisol last week, something that up until this moment, he hadn’t told anyone, not even Christopher—which he knows he can only avoid for so long.

He’s not even sure why he’s telling Bobby, because now Bobby is staring at him quizzically and Eddie is feeling closer to a panic attack than he’s been in a long time.

“You broke up with Marisol,” Bobby repeats back to him, because he’s been waiting for Eddie to continue and Eddie has made a point out of staring at his hands and not saying anything as his brain spirals. “Do you want to talk about that?”

“No,” Eddie says, because he really doesn’t—but he sucks in a sharp breath and rips the band-aid off anyways, “I think I might be in love with Buck.”

Bobby doesn’t say anything for what feels like an eternity.

Eddie finally gives in and looks at him, Bobby’s face is a carefully crafted blank expression—he’s processing the information Eddie has given him, but he’s not going to give any reaction in the meantime.

Eddie resists dropping his head against the table and instead settles for staring at the dormant alarm bell on the wall and hoping for it to start ringing to save him from this situation.

“I see,” Bobby says finally, “that’s… that must be a lot for you to process.”

“Understatement of the century,” Eddie mumbles, allowing himself to drop his head into his hands—it’s not quite as satisfying as the thunk of his forehead against the table would be.

“So how long have you been… processing this?”

“I don’t know, a couple weeks, maybe—” —my whole life, possibly, he doesn’t say.

A hand lands on his shoulder, the touch is gentle and grounding, and Eddie is reminded of why he went to Bobby in the first place.

“Eddie,” Bobby says carefully, “there’s nothing wrong with it—being in love with Buck. If that is how you feel, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Eddie exhales slowly, because that’s the whole thing, isn’t it? “I know that—logically, I know that. I’ve never had a problem with—I guess it’s different, when it’s yourself. But it’s not like it’s even—I mean, Buck’s with Tommy—Buck’s happy with Tommy—and Tommy’s my friend too, so it is kind of wrong, in a way.” 

“Buck being in a relationship with someone else doesn’t make your feelings for him invalid—or wrong. Sure, maybe it’s a little complicated since you consider them both friends. But whatever you’re feeling—you’re allowed to feel it.” 

“But what am I supposed to do with it?” Eddie finally meets Bobby’s gaze, “I mean—I feel like I’m lying to Buck, somehow, by feeling this way—by not saying anything.”

“Maybe you don’t have to do anything with it, at least—not right away,” Bobby squeezes his shoulder before removing his hand, “maybe right now you just let yourself feel it. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be honest with Buck, but I think maybe you should start by allowing yourself to be honest with you.” 

Eddie stares at Bobby, completely and painfully aware of his own heart beating in his chest, it’s not a panic attack, but he knows it’s a warning sign. 

He takes a moment to breathe slowly, the way Frank taught him. Bobby says nothing, waiting patiently 

“I don’t know what that looks like.” Eddie says honestly. 

Bobby offers him a kind smile, “That’s okay, you don’t have to have it all figured out, but maybe allow yourself the time to really think about it?”

“What if I lose him?” The words spill out of him unbidden. 

“Eddie, if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that you and Buck have a way of finding each other, no matter the circumstance, the two of you will always fight to find each other again.” 

Eddie blinks, and for a moment, all he sees is Buck, covered in Eddie’s own blood, begging for him to hold on. 

He blinks again, and the memory fades, and it’s just Bobby sitting there in front of him, watching him carefully.

“Let yourself feel it, Eddie,” Bobby says gently, “and when you’re ready—talk to Buck.”

The bell rings then, because timing never seems to be on Eddie’s side. 

Bobby sighs softly, “well, duty calls.”

Bobby stands to head towards the engine bay, but before Eddie can do the same, Bobby rests a hand on his shoulder again, “I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

He lets the words settle over him for a moment—breathing slowly in and out—and then follows after his Captain. 

#eddie diaz #bobby nash #911 #911 fic #brotp: bobby & eddie #buddie #my fic #mine #abby writes #fanfic #i do have a potential follow up for this but this felt good enough to post standalone for now #special shoutout to winter who peer reviewed this for me <33 ily

[aloysiavirgata]

How about some middle-aged reflections on the early days of their (romantic/sexual) relationship?

They’re spreading mulch around the trees, tucking flowerbeds in for winter. The air is crisp and dry, sharpened by the pungent smell of the mulch.

“Got the Stanford alumni newsletter yesterday,” Scully says. “Guess who their new entomology professor is.”

He frowns back, puzzled. Her tone indicates that the answer is one he should get. Does he know any entomologists?

Mulder starts to shake his head. “I have no-“

He sees her face, the smirk she’s trying hide, and then he remembers. “Nooooo,” he says, drawing the word out with a laugh. “Bambi?”

“Bambi,” she confirms, grinning now. “Did you sleep with her? I honestly can’t remember.”

“No!” He’s a bit shocked that she thought this. He’d kind of wanted to though, he recalls. Little khaki shorts.

Scully rolls her eyes. “Oh, sorry to impugn your virtue.”

Mulder offers her a petulant look. “You make it sound like I was Wilt Chamberlain-ing my way through every case.”

She leans against the big sycamore, scoffs. “You’re mighty defensive there, Marty.”

He grins back. “Judge away. You weren’t putting out yet. Not to me, anyway.”

Scully laughs. “We were so young.”

“We were so young.”

She rolls her palms around the rake handle, her beautiful slim fingers with oval nails like the inside of a seashell. She’d been pretty back then, he thinks. Lovely. But now she’s ethereal, refined to some radiant essence.

“I think….hmm. I think some part of me really felt that if you and I followed the rules then everyone else had to as well, you know?” Her expression is a little wistful. A little sad.

He does know. “I like to think it made it that much sweeter in the end.”

“It did. I loved you so…so….purely. I remember when you made it to that Congressional hearing. I think I was done then. The rest was just waiting to happen.” She laughs, a little shy even now.

“You were like Beatrice,” he says to her, adoringly, in the honeyed light. “Come to lead me into Paradise.”

Scully drops the rake, walks over to take his hands in hers. “Is this heaven?” she asks, gazing up.

Mulder smiles back, squeezes her cool little fingers. The wind chimes on the deck ripple like harp strings. The sun makes a halo on her tawny head.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr #my fic #prompt #inbox #bambi berenbaum #war of the coprophages

[drjholtzmann]

going thru the drafts. this one was originally a fluffbruary prompt (whoops) but i chickened out

shower | blessed | layer

Dream is already in the kitchen when Hob gets home. Clattering through the door in a flurry of muffled curses and rustling fabric. He shucks off his coat and violently jabs it onto the coat hook, continuing to curse his way out of his shoes before standing upright again, flicking soaking wet hair back off his face. 

“Hello, stranger.” He says, aiming for casual but falling a little closer to perfunctory, unable to fully hide his frustration. 

“You’re –” Dream’s deep voice begins softly as Hob rushes to add, “I know – I’m late, I know.”

Dream, hands deep in his pockets, shoulders square, resting in one of Hob’s kitchen chairs, does not move to finish his sentence. 

“‘Light morning showers’, my eye,” Hob mutters murderously as he passes Dream and the kitchen table and continues to clatter on into the kitchen. “Fucking pissing down all afternoon! Shoes are soaked. Thought my jacket would be enough for light showers so I didn’t take a sodding umbrella, like a fucking bellend. The tube was disgusting – full of everyone trying to get out of the rain. So it was full of rainwater and the water-soaked public which, let me tell you, is a particular bouquet I don’t need to experience again in a hurry. Not at the end of a work day. I mean – you want some of this?” He pauses, wine bottle in one hand, glass in another, gesturing with the bottle towards Dream. Dream inclines his head. “I mean say what you will about the past,” Hob continues, placing the first glass down and grabbing out a second, “plenty of smells of all kinds. But at least we didn’t have fuckin’ Lynx Africa. A tube full of B.O., soaked woollen suits, stale air, muddy rainwater, all coated with the chemical tang of Lynx fucking Africa?” He gags and pours a generous, sloshing glass of red. “Adding insult to injury. Didn’t know how good we had it.” He spins the cap back onto the bottle with a metallic little hiss. “Anyway,” he places the second glass down in front of Dream. “How was your day?”  

At this Dream stands, eyes passing over Hob’s hair, falling to his shoulders, then down to his feet. “You are wet.”

“Yeah. Did you not hear the whole vitriolic spiel just now?” 

Dream looks at him like he’s stupid. “You are still in your wet clothes.” He clarifies, emphasising each word even more than usual, his eyes glinting with mockery.

Hob swallows his mouthful of wine. “Yeah, well.”

“Your socks, at least.” Dream suggests. And Hob makes a show of rolling his eyes, putting his wineglass down, and slouching back to the door.

He bends to pull off his sodden socks, and they hit the floor with a wet and heavy splat. “Meugh,” his lip curls. His eyes slide back to Dream and he resists rolling them. “Happy?” He crows, arms wide.

“Are you?”

He wiggles his damp toes against the floorboards, head tilting to the side. “Better. At least.” He concedes. 

“You ought to get out of your wet layers.” 

“When did you become mother hen?” But by now Hob is struggling to keep up the fever pitch of his frustration, a smile starting to tug at his words. 

“If you do not want my help…” Dream turns his back on him, picking up his wineglass.

“No! No. Of course I do.” He’s still playing along with the teasing, but it’s true. Always. And Dream knows it. He turns towards Hob again, a smug little smile hiding behind the rim of his glass. Hob holds his hands out to his sides, letting them fall back against his thighs. “Help me?” 

Dream scoffs, but the smirk is still in place as he sets his glass down and walks over to Hob in the entryway. “How you survived centuries between our meetings I will never know,” he tuts, plucking at Hob’s unbuttoned overshirt, slipping it down off his shoulders, then free from each wrist. 

“Made a deal with a lady.” Hob parries back, but it sounds distant even to him, far too hypnotised by watching Dream’s movements to commit to continuing their banter.

“Mm. Quite.” Dream draws the neck of Hob’s t-shirt between his thumb and forefinger and, assessing that it, too, is insufficiently dry, pulls it upwards. Hob is pliant, and increasingly calm in his grip. 

Hob is shirtless for barely a second before there is a soft warmth sliding up his arms. Something that looks a little like a smoking jacket but feels more like a soft fleecy dressing gown has been conjured within Dream’s palm and his being fitted neatly across his shoulders. It feels like sinking into a warm bath. The warmth between sleep and wakefulness. The heavy-muscled heat of laying close to a fire for long night hours. And Hob can’t help the full-body contented sigh that comes out of him. He feels his shoulders relax down an entire inch. His head almost falls forward, eyes closed, ready to drop right off to sleep. 

“Is that not better?”

“Mm,” Hob shuffles closer. “Better,” he agrees, curling his hands into the sweeping lapels of Dream’s coat and, allowing his eyes to finally close, drops his head against Dream’s shoulder. 

“We are only half done.” Dream says after several seconds of silence and stillness from Hob. 

Hob huffs against his neck. “You just wanna see me in my pants. Cheeky.” 

“You’re impossible.” Hob can hear the smile in Dream’s words. Smiles in return, hidden against his neck, as Dream’s hands snake around his back and hold him in a warm, impossibly fond embrace. And Hob melts against him a little further. 

“S’me. Impossible. Wearing a robe my love just conjured from the ether. Which is very normal.”

“I only wish for you to be comfortable.”

“I am, love,” he promises, voice soft, all fight and frustration drained from him. “So comfy. 'n I promise I’ll take off the trousers in a minute.” He sighs, deep and cleansing. “Can we just go to bed? I know it’s still early but fuck I’d love this day to be over.”

Dream’s hands press tighter against him, soothing up and down his back. “You will hear no complaints from me,” he murmurs against Hob’s temple, pressing a featherlight kiss into his hair.

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #sandman #sandman fanfic #my fic #fluffbruary #why not. itll be february again eventually

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Top Shelf Love: Prologue

A/N: So, if you know me, you know that I love hockey. But if there's one thing I don't love, it's hockey romances because they are always so inaccurate that it's take you out of the story SO QUICK! Like what do you mean the captain of this NCAA D1 team is undrafted? What do you mean she magically has access to an NHL locker-room in the middle of a game? So this is my response to that! A super self-indulgent Nessian Hockey AU. For additional hockey context: Cassian is a defenseman for the NY Rangers; Rhys is a center for the Montreal Canadiens; Az is a winger for the Nashville Predators; and Lucien is a winger for the Toronto Maple Leafs. Anyways! Hope everyone enjoys this prologue and this absolute meet-ugly! Happy final day of @nestaarcheronweek

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Next Part

Nesta

Nesta sighs softly, tilting her head back against the leather of the seat. Almost instantly, she scrunches her nose, the stale scent of cigarettes, of sweat and previous occupants, flooding her senses. Eager for a distraction, she peers out the window instead. The skyscrapers loom like shadowed giants on either side of the road, a cascade of colorful lights spilling from their windows and reflecting off the wet roads, the puddles from the earlier rain. Throngs of bodies move along the sidewalks, neither the late hour or the dark clouds still clinging above deterring them clearly.

The city that never sleeps indeed.

The cab jerks to a stop along the curb, the driver not even bothering to turn around and say anything to her, merely tapping the fare display. With a roll of her eyes, Nesta fishes her wallet out of her purse to pay before finally slipping out of the cab. At least the driver pulls her suitcase from the trunk, setting it on the sidewalk beside her.

“Nesta! You finally made it!”

It takes everything within Nesta to swallow back down another sigh, takes all her willpower to force at least a hint of a smile to tug across her face. She can feel her earlier annoyance still simmering just beneath her skin, can still feel the exhaustion weighing down her bones. She’d give anything to be back in her own bed right now, anything to slip beneath her pile of blankets and curl up with a good book, but she’s here for Feyre, here to celebrate her baby sister.

So Nesta rolls her shoulders and plasters on an even wider smile before she turns around. But she should have known better, should have known that despite the physical distance between them, there’s no fooling her sisters. From the way Feyre raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching up in the barest hint of an unimpressed smirk, it’s clear she sees straight through Nesta.

“Sorry,” Nesta winces, her shoulders drooping already. “Journey from hell.”

“Sounds like you need a drink,” Elain offers with an easy smile, stepping forward and taking the handle of Nesta’s suitcase.

“Or five,” Feyre adds with a chuckle.

Nesta rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t exactly disagree. A stiff drink definitely sounds appealing after the nightmare of the day she’s had.

“I saw online that a lot of flights were just straight canceled, so I think you’re lucky to have made it at all,” Elain comments, leading the way along the sidewalk.

“I don’t know that I’d call a six hour delay lucky,” Nesta grumbles, practically shuddering at the memory of being stuck sitting and waiting in an airport for so long.

Nesta follows her sisters inside the building, but they take the elevator down, rather than up, Elain leading the way toward a black SUV. She tells her sisters more about the horrible journey as they walk. About the surprisingly long line at security. About the storms in the midwest and the delays and havoc they wreaked on all flights. About the child that seemed determined to scream for the entire five hour flight.

Once Nesta’s bags are securely locked away in Elain’s car, they return to the elevator and take it all the way up to the eighteenth floor, the doors opening with a soft ding. There’s no stopping the way Nesta’s jaw slackens as she takes it all in. A large centerpiece extends from the floor and fans out into the ceiling, the lights embedded within it casting the entire bar and its occupants in glittering golds. Live music seems to be coming from somewhere, twining and molding with the laughter, the conversations, filling the space.

But it’s the windows that really draw Nesta’s attention. Floor to ceiling windows seem to line every wall, offering a truly panoramic view of all of New York City and the Hudson. It’s a picture perfect view of the twinkling lights and night sky through the rain droplets still clinging to the panes.

“Wow,” Nesta breathes, taking it all in. “This place is definitely nicer than I was expecting.”

“If you think this is nice, you should see their venue.”

It takes a few moments for Elain’s words to register, but then Nesta is snapping her head toward Feyre. “You have a venue already? Does that mean you’ve picked a date?”

“Yes,” Feyre answers, unable to bite back her grin. “Next summer. July specifically, after Rhys’s season has ended.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit optimistic to think he’ll still be playing through June?”

“Elain!” Feyre exclaims, reaching out to smack the middle Archeron in the arm. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“What?” Elain shrugs innocently. “It’s true. I mean what’s their current record again?”

“Because the Leafs do so well when they choke every year?”

“At least they make the playoffs.”

Nesta snorts softly at her sisters’ bickering. “Since when did you become a sports fan anyways, Elain?”

“I guess Lucien’s been filling her with more than just his dick.”

“Feyre!” Elain squeaks out, her cheeks flooding with a blush.

“Darling,” a deep voice practically purrs, interrupting them. “There you are. I was wondering where my beautiful fiancée got off to.”

“Rhys, this is my oldest sister, Nesta,” Feyre offers, sidling up against Rhys’s side, her fiancé’s arm settling over her shoulders with comfortable ease.

“A pleasure to meet you at last,” Rhys greets, holding up the glass in his free hand in a mock cheers. The gesture is a bit sloppy, some of the amber liquid in the glass sloshing over the rim and spilling across his fingers, and Nesta realizes there’s a haze to his violet eyes.

“It’s an open bar,” Feyre mouths, clearly reading Nesta’s expression.

“You don’t have a drink in your hand,” Rhys suddenly says, as though he’s only just realized. “We need to fix that immediately.”

Rhys turns on his heel, pushing his way through the various guests gathered to celebrate him and Feyre without a care. Nesta rolls her eyes, but Feyre has a wide, soft smile on her face as she watches him go, eyes practically sparking with fondness. It’s clear this is the man that makes her youngest sister happy, so she can’t fault him too much.

“He’s right, you know. You do need a drink still,” Feyre says, looping her arm through Nesta’s.

Feyre leads the way toward the bar built around the large centerpiece. She leans over and gets the attention of one of the bartenders with ease, ordering what she tells Nesta is the couple's signature cocktail. It seems to be some sort of margarita, a deep blue in color with edible glitter that looks almost like stars swirling through the liquid.

“So…” Feyre starts, taking a sip of her own drink.

“So…?” Nesta echoes, although she has a strong suspicion she already knows where this conversation is going. She knows that expression on her sister’s face all too well.

“Rhys’s brothers are here tonight.”

“And you need to stop being such a busybody.”

Feyre sighs, turning so her hip leans against the bar, facing Nesta fully. “Why? I’m an excellent matchmaker. Just ask Elain…” Feyre looks over her shoulder, but frowns, turning in a full circle with her eyebrows pinched low. “Wait. Where did Elain go?”

“She and Lucien probably found some dark corner to fuck like the bunnies they are,” Nesta answers dryly. It’s certainly the trend with those two, vanishing for a few hours before appearing again with slightly mussed clothes and hair, pink often clinging to the apples of Elain’s cheeks and a wide, shit eating grin plastered across Lucien’s face.

“That just proves my point! At least tell me you stalked his Instagram or something.”

“Emerie and Gwyn did.”

Her best friends had been trying to convince her to get back out there for a month now. Even with how much time has passed since everything happened, it still feels strange. Of course, that hasn’t stopped Emerie from dragging her out to bars for trivia nights and karaoke as if they’re the best places to meet someone new. It hasn’t stopped Gwyn from trying to tempt her to start a dating profile on at least one of the plethora of app options.

It hasn’t stopped either of them from hyping her up after they spent so long helping Nesta to piece together the shattered fragments of herself, of her life, back together. It’s why Nesta loves them, why she doesn’t know what she’d do without them.

But when Feyre had suggested setting Nesta up with Rhys’s adopted brother, practically raving over the phone about what a good fit the two of them would be together, it had been like blood in the water for Emerie and Gwyn. Nesta had barely hung up with her sister by the time Gwyn had tracked down his social medias and had them displayed on the television ‘for the best viewing experience.’

Cassian Valdarez.

Any other emotions aside, Nesta can admit he’s attractive, that much was clear from the photos and videos on his Instagram. With his dark, curly hair tumbling down to his shoulders, his bright hazel eyes. He had been grinning widely in most of the photos, golden skin of his cheeks stretched and crinkles popping beside his eyes. But even the one where his lips were tugged up in a lopsided, cocksure smirk had Nesta staring.

Nesta had done a lot of staring.

Staring at the photo of him in sunglasses and shirtless, lounging casually on some sort of boat, wide shoulders and swirling lines of ink on full display. The photo of him in a locker room, dressed only from the waist down, showing off the tantalizing lines of his abs, his v-lines. The Reel of him working out, chest heaving and skin glistening, biceps bulging with every lift of the weights. The reel of him stick handling with just gloves, in a tank and shorts, the muscles and veins of his forearms working with each flick of his wrist.

“Okay, and?” Feyre’s voice draws Nesta back to the present.

“And what?”

“And what did Gwyn and Emerie think?”

Nesta sighs softly, fiddling with the stem of her glass. “I mean, they said I should go for it.”

“Ha!” Feyre exclaims, loud enough to draw the attention of a few others up at the bar. “See? I’m right. A perfect match.”

“Feyre, don’t you think—”

“Feyre, darling, I keep losing you.” Rhys slips into the space behind Feyre, wrapping an arm around her waist. He dips his head enough to press his lips to her neck before raising his gaze to peer at Nesta over Feyre’s shoulder. “Sorry. Do you mind if I steal my fiancée away for a moment?”

“Not at all,” Nesta assures him, but it’s Feyre’s gaze she meets. “I’ll be fine.”

Feyre and Rhys vanish into the crowds hand and hand, and Nesta settles at the bar, sipping her drink. Her eyes flit around, but she truly doesn’t know anyone here outside of her sisters. And despite her earlier words to Feyre, all the people, all the sounds and the lights, are starting to grate against her nerves, prickling and dragging along her skin like nails. Even downing the remains of her drink doesn’t seem to help, the alcohol only weighing heavy in her gut.

Leaving her now empty glass on the bartop, Nesta spins on her heel and stalks toward one of the walls of windows. She glances around at the different tables set up, the booths that line the windows and offer the perfect seats for the views beyond. Maybe she can find a dark corner to hide in for a few hours, or maybe, if she’s lucky, Elain and Lucien will decide they want to leave early to continue whatever they’ve started in an actual bed.

“Looking for me, sweetheart?”

The deep voice has a shiver skittering up Nesta’s spine, warm breath fanning across her ear. She spins around and comes face to face with a pair of hazel eyes, a cocksure smirk she’s only seen in photo-form before. Cassian Valdarez, in the flesh. He doesn’t even bother for subtly as his gaze rakes over her, and Nesta has to swallow hard as she tracks the way he licks his lips.

“And what if I wasn’t?” Nesta dares to ask, raising her chin.

Cassian chuckles, stepping closer into her space. “I think we both know you were looking for me. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Cassian’s hand reaches up in the space between them, snagging one of the stray strands of Nesta’s hair and twisting it around his fingers. Those same fingers skate down her neck, across her collarbones, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His touch traces over her shoulder and down her arm before finally closing around her wrist, Nesta’s breath hitching at the warm of his hand, the size of it, and she can do nothing but follow along as he tugs her toward one of the booths by the windows.

He lets go long enough to fall back against the cushions, for Nesta to settle beside him, but then his hands are right back on her. This time, his palm slides against the skin above her knee, fingers teasing along the hem of her dress. His other arm stretches along the back of the booth, all but curling around her shoulders as he leans into her.

“You look gorgeous in this dress, you know.”

“But let me guess, it would look better on your bedroom floor?”

“You said it, not me, but I don’t disagree.”

Nesta snorts quietly, tempted to tell him that it was wrinkled when she yanked it out of her suitcase before she awkwardly changed into it in the airport bathroom. But she never gets the chance to. Cassian lifts his hand until his fingers curl around her jaw, tilting her chin up enough that he can slot their lips firmly together.

The kiss takes Nesta by surprise, but it doesn’t take her long to respond. She moves her lips against his, Cassian’s grip on her chin holding her exactly where he wants her. When his tongue slips into her mouth, she moans softly, fisting a hand into the front of his shirt to keep herself steady and to keep him close.

Cassian pulls back just enough that he can murmur, “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Right now?” Nesta blurts out before she can stop herself. She’s certainly not opposed to the idea, but with tonight being the first time they’re meeting, she thought he might want to get to know her more first. What exactly did Feyre tell him about her?

“You know what they say. No time like the present.”

“I should probably tell my sister I’m leaving then.”

Cassian’s eyes seem to glint, even beneath the low light of the bar. “Is your sister here? Does she want to join?”

Nesta is sure that she must have misheard him. “What?”

“It could be fun. Two sisters, one hockey player,” Cassian says easily, even daring to wink at her. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Nesta can do nothing but gape at him, her mind reeling with this turn in conversation, but then it hits her like a ton of bricks. “You don’t know who I am.”

Cassian chuckles again, that cocksure smirk of his never slipping for a moment. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

“Do you even know my name?” Nesta snaps, pulling further away from him.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that, sweetheart. All that really matters is you knowing my name so you can scream it tonight.”

“You didn’t even want to ask for it before you kissed me? You don’t even want to ask for it now?”

“Look. We both know what you came here for, what you puck bunnies are always looking for, and trust me, sweetheart. I am more than happy to give it,” Cassian offers, the way his eyes dance over her frame again nothing short of a leer. It stokes the anger flaring in Nesta’s veins higher, until it burns bright and hot.

“Wow,” Nesta scoffs, pushing up to her feet. “Fuck you.”

Nesta doesn’t even wait to hear whatever sputtering response he might give before she turns on her heel and stalks away from Cassian, pushing through bodies to put as much distance between them as she can. She’s never felt more stupid, can’t believe that she allowed Feyre to convince her that Cassian was some great guy, that the two of them would be some perfect match.

She can’t believe that she had started to believe her sister’s words, that that damned hope had started to bloom and put down roots in the gaps between her ribs.

Because of course. Of course, Cassian is just like every other guy, only thinking with the head between his legs without a single care for what happens once the sun rises. He’s exactly what Nesta expects from a professional athlete, cocky and sure of himself, expecting every girl to fall at his feet ready to worship him and suck his dick.

She finds Elain and Lucien in one of the other booths near the opposite side of windows. Elain has her legs draped across Lucien’s lap, giggling around the straw of her drink. Lucien seems to be smirking through whatever story he’s telling, his arm stretched across the back of the booth, fingers toying aimlessly with the soft brown curls of Elain’s hair.

“Can we go?” Nesta interrupts, looking between the two.

Elain blinks a few times, but then she starts nodding her head. “Of course. You’ve already had such a long day.”

Elain pushes up and to her feet, wobbling just slightly in her heels, but Lucien is there right behind her, his hands spanning across her waist to steady her. She smiles over her shoulder up at him before turning her attention to her purse, rooting around with a frown.

“Wait. Where are the keys?”

“I have them, my love,” Lucien answers, holding up the keys dangling from his fingers. He turns his attention to Nesta, offering her a wink. “Don’t worry. She’s not driving.”

Lucien slides his hand into Elain’s, leading all three of them through the party and back toward the elevators. Nesta keeps her head down as she follows behind her sister and brother-in-law, and she certainly doesn’t bother to look back. Besides, it’s not like anyone is watching her. She’s quite confident a certain hockey player has already found some other poor, unsuspecting girl to capture his attention.

And as they take the elevators all the way down to the parking garage and back to the car, she vows to herself that she’ll never think of Cassian Valdarez ever again.

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies

#NestaWeek2024 #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #hockey cassian #top shelf love #my fic

[ncis-nerd]

The Case Of The Purring Kitten

grey novemeber au

older!nat x reader

Liho purred in your arms. Nuzzling her head against your ankle. The sweet little kitty of Natasha's had made her way into your room. Of course you were shocked when the cat just strolled in like this was a casual occurrence.

You didn't complain though, you loved that kitty. She smelled like Natasha and meant a lot that even her cat wanted to be around you. You stroked the cat as you continued to draw in your sketchbook. A purr escaped from Liho.

When you were close to finishing, you swapped your 2b pencil for a heavier pencil, Liho jumped out of your lap. Appear she was making her rounds because she just waltzed out of your room. That silly cat.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

Later that day, there was a knock in your door. You had been locked up in your room all day. There was no meeting planned for today so who could it be? "Come in" you mumbled, wrapping up in your latest art project. Natasha made her way into your room. You jumped, not expecting it to be the the red-head, you immediately shut your notebook. Not wanting to ruin your surprise.

Natasha looked at you, furrowing her eyebrows. "Hiding something, hun?' She glared at you. You shook your head and looked at her with your doe eyes, knowing that would distract her. And it definitely did.

She loved seeing you so wide-eyed. So innocent. Nothing but love and pure thoughts behind those eyes. She cooed at you and caressed your back. "hi honey, you still here with me?" she gave you a gentle smile.

You nodded, "m' here natty. want you though" you mumbled, fidgeting with her hoodie drawstring. Her eyes widened at your statement. "What do you mean hun?" She looked at you, her cheeks turning red. Obviously not expecting your boldness. "wanna lay down in your lap, want you to hold me" you mumble.

She smiled at your innocent request. Of course that's what you meant, she mentally facepalmed herself. She gladly took up your offer, taking you into her lap. Your head laid in her lap, she stroked your hair as your eyes began to flutter. "go to sleep, angel." she whispered softly.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

It was later that day, Natasha had retreated to her room, allowing you to get back to business. The so called business was the drawing you were working on earlier. You had finally finished and made your way to Natasha's room. Natasha is gonna love it!

You knocked her door and slipped the folded up drawing under her door before retreating to your room.

Natasha opened the door, she saw no one so she closed it. Huh that was odd, she thought. She felt something beneath her foot. It was a paper, she picked it up. As she unfolded it, a beautifully drawn picture of Liho appeared. Y/n. Of course, this was so kind. Her heart melted your generosity.

She wanted to make it up to you.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

Your favorite activity with the russian is to drink hot chocolate and watch a movie wrapped up into her. She grabbed your favorite fluffy blanket of hers, a bunch of pillows, some a big bowl of popcorn and rich hot chocolate.

She opened up the TV to the streaming platform, leaving it for you to choose the movie. all that was left was to grab you. The older woman made her way to her room where you had been reading a novel you bought recently.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

You were humming the tune of that new song by Taylor Swift when you heard a knock at your door. Who could that be? You assumed it would be the russian, especially after giving her your drawing earlier and fleeing. your stomach turned in knots, nervously you stood up to open the door.

You were greeted with the green-eyed spy giving you a warm smile. "Hey honey, I love the gift you gave me! As a thank you, I have a little surprise in the living room. Please join me?" She spoke softly, waiting for a response. You blushed, this was so kind of her. You didn't expect something in return. Just wanted to show how much you love her little fluff ball. "Natasha you didn't have too.. but I'm glad you like the drawing!" You said, shyly.

Natasha took your hand and led you to the living room where she had a pile of blankets- the kind you like, hot chocolate- your favorite, popcorn- you NEED popcorn whenever watching a movie. Your eyes started to tear up. "Natasha, wow... This is.. Amazing" you gasp.

The russian admired your reaction. You were adorable, her hand found it's place on your back and motioned for you to take a seat. "Wanted to show you how special you are to me, dove." She hummed, handing you the remote to pick out a movie.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

taglist: @ssa-shaylam @madamevirgo

#natasha romanoff x reader #my writing #my fic #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff smut #grey november au #natasha x you #nat x reader #nat au #black widow #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanov x y/n #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow fic #black widow movie #the black widow #black widow x female reader #black widow x y/n #black widow imagine #black widow fluff #black widow fanfiction

[campingwiththecharmings]

Insomnia

AN: Sixth and final fic for @moonknight-events' MK Bingo! I wish I'd been able to do the entire board like I wanted but alas. Hope you all enjoy! Thank you to @whatthefishh for looking this over for me ❤️

Steven can't sleep and you, uh, help him out.

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, you've been warned) Prompt: Handjobs Words: 1,233 Pairing: Steven Grant x GN!Reader (pretty sure this could be read as GN, please let me know if that's incorrect) Warnings: handjob (as the prompt indicates lol), cursing, kissing, mild biting, praise kink, sub!Steven, please let me know if I missed anything. AO3

——————

Steven can’t sleep. 

He’s tried everything he can think of, his usual tried and true methods (and even some of the old ones), but none of them have worked. 

He chews his lip, glancing over to where you’re asleep beside him. You look so relaxed, so peaceful, your lovely lips quirked in a slight smile. He wonders what you’re dreaming about (was it him?)...wishes he could be dreaming too. The urge to wake you is strong, you’ve told him before that he can when this happens, but he just can’t bring himself to disturb you. 

Steven sighs, turning over on his side. He closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep. 

That doesn’t work either. 

He tosses and turns, trying to find a comfortable position, one that will finally allow him to fall into the blissful depths of sleep but, no matter what he does, nothing helps. He feels even worse when you begin to stir beside him, whining softly as you’re unwillingly pulled back to consciousness. He stills, trying not to move (or even breathe) in the hopes that you’ll fall back into the abyss. 

“Steven?” you ask, voice still thick with sleep. 

He waits silently for a moment, then sighs, turning slightly to look at you over his shoulder. 

“So sorry, love, I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“S’okay,” you slur, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 

You push yourself up into a sitting position, eyes meeting his in the darkness as you reach out to gently push the curls back from his forehead. “Trouble sleeping again?” 

Steven nods, his eyelids fluttering at your touch. 

“How can I help?”  

He smiles tiredly at you. “Not sure you can, love.” 

You stick your bottom lip out in a pout and he chuckles softly, reaching out to thumb at it. “S’alright, I’ll be fine. You should go back to sleep though.” 

You shake your head, settling your back against the headboard. “I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re awake beside me.” 

With a resigned sigh, Steven sits up to join you. 

“I’m so sorry, love,” he says again, taking your hand in his and squeezing it lightly. 

You shush him, effectively dismissing his apologies. “Nothing to be sorry for.” 

Steven just sighs again, his shoulder pressed against yours as he idly runs his thumb over your knuckles. You sit in silence for a moment, just watching him, the meager light in the room softening his sharper features. 

Then it dawns on you, how you can help. 

You lean in slowly, tilting your head to get the right angle. He doesn’t notice how close you are until you’re right there, inches away from his face, and before he can protest, you press your lips to his. Immediately, he melts, his free hand reaching up to cup your cheek. You start slow, soft, the pressure gentle, the pace unhurried. After a moment, you brush your tongue along the seam of his lips, his low groan sending a shiver through your body. He’s always so responsive, your Steven, whether it’s a moan or a simple flutter of his eyelashes, he always lets you know how you’re making him feel. 

You kiss him deeper, languidly licking into his mouth, your fingers clenching in the fabric of his t-shirt as his tongue slides against yours. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, in him, in the taste of him, the feel of him—but then you remember why you started this, remember that he needs you. You relax your fingers, allowing your hand to slip slowly down his chest, over his belly, coming to settle at his waist. Your fingers briefly toy with the band of his sleep pants before slipping beneath them and his boxers. 

Steven breaks your kiss with a surprised yelp as you take him in your hand, his breath leaving him in a sharp gasp as you begin to gently work your hand over his length. You shush him, whispering soothing words into his skin as you kiss him wherever your lips can reach.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes, involuntarily arching into your touch. 

You respond with a whispered plea for him to relax, your thumb sliding over the velvety tip of him, dragging the prettiest moan from his lips. He stops resisting then, losing himself in the pleasure of your touch, rewarding you on every stroke with breathy sighs and groans. 

“So good for me, Steven,” you whisper, the praise drawing a whimper from between his lips. 

You smile at the sound, tracing his collarbones with the tip of your tongue as you twist your wrist just so, dragging another delicious sound from him. He pushes up into your fist, his fingers twisting in the bedding beneath him. You move back up his neck, nipping briefly at his jugular and soothing the area with your tongue. Beside you, Steven’s breathing is erratic, his skin hot, hips thrusting in time with the stroke of your hand. You pull back to gaze at him, admiring his mussed curls, kiss-bitten lips, and glassy eyes—he always was beautiful in the throes. 

You lean in again, sealing your lips over a spot on his neck. He keens when you suck, your hand gently squeezing his cock to mimic the pressure. You move your hand a little faster, increasing the friction, and his breath hitches, hands now fisted in the sheets beneath him. 

“Darling,” he pants, his neck tense with the effort of holding himself back. 

You shush him again, pulling back to meet his gaze. He’s close, so close, his big brown eyes pleading—for you, for your love, for your permission. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him, eyes flickering over his face, drinking him in as your touch pushes him closer and closer to the edge. When you’ve teased him enough, you lean in, nuzzling your nose against his ear. 

“Come for me, Steven.” 

And he does, his body going rigid, as he erupts all over your fist with a choked moan. You keep working him, his body twitching as the pleasure rolls through him. When he finally stills, you release him, whispering your praise as you press a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. He’s absolutely wrecked when you pull back, body limp against the headboard, panting like he’s just run a marathon. You smile at him softly, pushing the curls from his damp forehead with your clean hand before slipping off the bed to get a washcloth. 

Once you’ve cleaned both yourself and him up, you settle back in the bed beside him. For a moment, you wonder if he’s already asleep, his eyes closed, breathing (finally) even. He stirs at the movement beside him though, his eyelids heavy as he opens them and smiles at you dreamily. 

“Your turn, Love,” he slurs, reaching out for you despite his inability to keep his eyes open for more than 3 seconds. 

You chuckle softly, shaking your head as you lean in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Sleep, Steven.” 

“But—” 

“Sleep,” you insist, yawning as you pull him down with you beneath the blankets. 

Steven grunts in protest, but doesn’t stop you, his eyes already falling shut again as you snuggle against his side. You smile as his breathing evens out again, the gentle rhythm of it lulling you back to sleep.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟 MK Bingo Masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

#my fic #moon knight bingo #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant fanfic #steven grant fic #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #steven grant smut #moon knight smut

[girlsdads]

couldn’t be normal about that second gif

cw: watersports, consensual somnophilia (adjacent?). max has a pussy also because i said

Max wakes with his thighs parted around Daniel’s head, one tanned hand gripping the meat of his left buttcheek, the other heavy against his lower belly. Max groans as he feels his bladder throb underneath Daniel’s palm, the pressure that’s clear in its meaning. Daniel’s tongue works Max’s clit in gentle strokes, moving downward, coaxing.

The first time he’d woken like this, Max had instinctively tried to wiggle away, the indulgent thrill of having Daniel’s mouth on him overpowered by the horror of realizing he was seconds away from taking his morning piss right down Daniel’s throat. But Daniel had yanked him tight against his face and—whined—like that’s exactly what he’d wanted, and Max had been so absolutely floored that he’d forgotten to be self-conscious when the first stream splashed onto Daniel’s tongue.

Now, heady as he always is with the knowledge that Daniel fucking loves this, Max relaxes into the nest of blankets surrounding him and lets go.

The relief is instant and it makes Max sigh, going boneless where Daniel is holding his pelvis slightly propped, angled so that piss sprays the roof of Daniel’s mouth. Daniel makes a noise like he’s been struck, seals his lips over Max and just keeps him there, letting Max go. He’s not swallowing, allowing it to pool in his mouth before Max feels him open his jaw to send warm urine spilling down his chin and to the sheets and under Max’s butt. They are so reckless to do this, Max always thinks later, when they are stripping the bed and inspecting the mattress damage, but then—why would Max worry about things when he gets to use Daniel like this?

Max threads his fingers through Daniel’s sweaty curls, yanks his head up so he can watch his piss as it trickles down Daniel’s flushed cheeks and into his mustache. His bottom lip is slack and dribbling. The stream is wetting the curls by his ears. His hips are starting to hump the mattress. He looks dazed and stupid and stunning. Max loves him.

Max lets Daniel get his mouth back against him as he arches and pushes out the last few spurts. As soon as he’s done he feels himself open around Daniel’s hot tongue. A moan escapes him, Daniel tonguing hungrily into the wet clench of his cunt, urine soaked nose rubbing against his swollen clit. He uses both hands to cup the back of Daniel’s skull and holds him there, hips working until he’s shaking through an orgasm that leaves Daniel’s face slippery with him.

“Maxy,” Daniel gasps, sliding up to position the head of his cock against where Max is soaked and quivering, “can I—fuck—please, let me…”

Max locks his legs around Daniel’s hips and nudges him forward so that his fat tip stretches Max, makes him ache in that way he likes best. It is always best when Daniel is in him, when Max’s body opens for him like it is meant for nothing else.

“You can, Daniel. I want it.” Always wants it. Every time they do this.

Daniel sobs and his arms quake where they’re bracketing Max’s head. His cock kicks where it’s only in Max just a little—Max feels the thick blurt of come against his walls, giving way to a hot jet of piss as Daniel sighs and melts. Max relaxes wholly under Daniel’s comforting weight. Daniel empties himself fully into Max and when his cock goes soft Max clenches as tight as he can. Only a little dribbles out as Daniel leaves him and Daniel whispers that’s perfect, honey. Max feels perfect.

Daniel flops down beside him and smiles dopily, hand coming to rest on Max’s lower belly, ever so slightly swollen. Max laces their fingers together and holds them there, where he’s warm and full with Daniel.

#do not ask what came over me because i do not know #flinging this into the world before i pass out good night folks 🫡🫡🫡 #maxiel #my fic

[thescholarlystrumpet]

Father Fell x Crowley in WW2

With SPECTACULAR new cover art by @quona!! (everyone go follow them!)

Father Fell has been living a quiet life in a small parish. Despite the looming fear of war, he thought he was content with his small pleasures. Until a mysterious stranger comes to town, turning that life on its head and awakening desires the Father thought he buried long, long ago...

READ ON AO3:

Chapter ten in which a gift is given and then another is shared—if only for the barest sliver of a moment.

Or read from the beginning!

tagging @goodomensafterdark as promised ;)

#good omens #good omens fic #good omens fanfic #priest aziraphale #aziracrow #azicrow #ineffable spouses #ineffable husbands #good omens art #quona my beloved #my fic #fic with art #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale

[revengeghoulette]

Matcha Latte w/Rose

Part 2: The Date

They go on their date!!

A/N: Bit of a time skip. It's not like the best thing I've written, but it'll do :) It gets a little steamy but not enough to be considered Spicy. Mostly edited.

WC: 3k

Sorry in advanced, you'll see. -Rev.

Playlist: The Rosy Crown

tagging: @obsidianghoul (ily, sorry I banned you), @sovaghoul @gottagho-st @clouds-bitch @crystalameoba @cheerycherrycandy-resurrected @foxybouquet @ghostlylivres @hypnoneghoul

It’s been almost 3 weeks since Swiss asked Mountain out on a date, and preparations for the midterm rush at The Rosy Crown are in full swing. Mist, Sunny and Swiss have been organizing the schedule to ensure that last year's snafu doesn’t occur again. They accidentally left The Rosy Crown with no staff for about 3 hours in the middle of the night, and they also ran out of flour and butter. They promised that moving forward reparations would begin several weeks before exam weeks to avoid any issues the week of.  

Mountain has been busy with office hours, lectures, and a garden club he offered to be an advising faculty member for. He tries his hardest to make sure to be at the cafe before Swiss’ shift ends so they can walk home together, but there’s been a handful of nights where he doesn’t make it. He regrets assigning so much homework. He makes a mental note to adjust the workload for next semester, especially since he’ll be teaching two additional courses. 

On the nights Mountain can’t make it to the cafe, he shoots Swiss a message to let him know so he doesn’t worry. If it's truly a rough day, he forgets all together. 

Swiss will do anything to spend time with his favorite person. He happily walks to campus with some snacks and a warm drink, to find him buried in stacks of papers gripping a red pen. He takes a seat on one of the comfy chairs Mountain has in his office, and reads the random magazines he has lying around.  

“Is gardening like your favorite thing to do, or what? You’ve got so many magazines here about greenhouses and what not, and you’ve got a little gardening gang now,” Swiss questions, laughing at the end, referring to the gardening club.

“It's… yeah. You know how we, ghouls, have an element attached to us? I’m an earth ghoul, hence the name Mountain. I have a special connection with the earth, so, yeah, gardening, and all things nature,” Mountain informs him.

“Oh, I guess I never really thought about it. I know we have ties to elements, but my parents weren’t very into that, I guess? They tried to assimilate more to the human culture, so we didn’t lean into it.”

After a moment, Swiss began getting a little antsy, distracting Mountain, “Honey, what is it? You're getting fidgety.”

Swiss blushes at hearing the earth ghoul call him honey. “Would you… help me connect with my elements? According to my parents, I have a mix of them. It's where my name came from, actually.”

Mountain sets down his pen and removes his glasses. “Wait. Swiss… Like, Swissarmy knife? Because you’re a multi ghoul.”

Swiss nods slowly. 

Mountain lets out a hearty chuckle, “That’s very cute, but absolutely, it would be my pleasure. I’m done here though. Why don’t we pick up some food and go home?”

Standing up from his chair, Swiss grabs Mountain’s coat and helps him put it on before walking out the door hand in hand. 

Swiss and Mountain have only been going out for a few short weeks, but their connection is so much more than typical crush. They have routines, they call each other during downtime just to say hello, Mountain continues to stop by The Rosy Crown every morning, and Swiss helps Mountain with grading or understanding typical young adult behavior. It seems like neither of them can spend the night alone anymore. There’s something tugging them together. 

They haven’t had their first official date, but all the hang outs are everything and more. 

‐

With midterms week upon them, Swiss, Mist and Sunny have been living at The Rosy Crown filling in for their student staff. Mountain has been at the shop every single day volunteering to help bus tables, or go around and restock supplies and books. 

Mist has gotten on his case multiple times about it before, claiming that it's not his job, that he’s probably breaking some sort of labor law by helping them. Mountain assures her it falls under volunteer work and she doesn't need to worry. Swiss admires that Mountain puts up with Mist’s fighting spirit and constantly thanks him for helping, but reassures him he doesn’t have to.

“I do it because I want to. No one’s forcing me to be here.” Mountain reassures him back. With a quick kiss on the forehead, they go back to their duties. 

Ever the creep, Sunny watches them interact. She’s never seen Swiss be so enthralled by another being before. He’s putty in Mountain’s hands. The forehead kiss sent her over the edge. 

He walks past her, and she takes this opportunity to corner him, “Dude. What the fuck. Where did you find him? He’s amazing! And he’s been so much help! Please tell me you’re gonna dick him down soon! Omg, does he have a sister?”

Swiss grabs Sunny by the arms and shakes her playfully. “Sunny, breathe. Calm down! He’s pretty amazing, huh?” 

“Who knew the playboy would settle down,” she teased, earning a glare from Swiss. “I'd snatch him from you, but I like the ladies. They're not as stinky.” Sunny makes a disgusted face before cackling and running away from Swiss’ reach He grins, rolling his eyes at her antics. Who knew the calm quiet child would grow up to be anything but calm and quiet. 

-

After a rough week of long nights, The Rosy Crown closes the weekend after midterms. Students are mostly gone on spring break, and the staff is exhausted. Swiss gives everyone a long weekend to recover and start fresh on the following Wednesday. 

Mountain wakes up with Swiss’ arms around him. He takes a moment to admire the features on Swiss’ face, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and the horns protruding from his head. He was perfection incarnate. The gold flakes in his horns match the gold flakes in his eyes, his muscles defined by all the manual work he puts into baking, his tail wrapped around his own leg as if cuddling with him, there is no other ghoul that could match his beauty.  

He gets up quietly, placing the blanket over Swiss body, and goes to the living room. He knows Swiss isn’t waking up anytime soon, especially after the week they just had. Mountain brews a fresh pot of coffee and takes a seat on the couch, wrapping a blanket over himself. The air is getting crisper with the approaching winter, he can feel it in his bones, and see it in his hair. He's luckily able to glamour that. He picks up a random book Swiss has lying about, and begins to read it while he waits for sleeping beauty to wake up.

In the other room, Swiss wakes up alone. He feels around for Mountain, but he doesn’t find him. Groggy, he gets up and sees he's reading the book Mist said was good, but truth is… It’s trash. The writing is terrible, but the smut is hot. 

He wanted to stare at Mountain forever, but he was getting chilly and he looked so warm. Swiss quietly makes his way over before crawling on top of Mount, startling him. 

“Good morning sweetheart,” Mountain sets the book down, rubbing his hands up and down Swiss’ back while his face was smushed against him lower belly. He mumbled something in response, but Mountain couldn’t make it out. 

They adjusted themselves so that Swiss was underneath the blanket, cuddling Mountain on the couch. Sleeping beauty dozed off, and Mountain picked up the book again. After a little while, Swiss started to wake up again. Mount felt movement under him, so he set the book down and started rubbing the back of his finger up and down Swiss cheek gently. 

“You’re warm,” Swiss gets out in a groggy voice, snuggling further into Mountain. 

“Mm I know honey. I’m also hungry, and need more coffee. This book is lulling me back to sleep,” Swiss hums in agreement, “I’m gonna make us some breakfast, sweetheart.”

After they get up, Swiss warms up the coffee and starts to make breakfast for the both of them. Mountain complains because he was supposed to make breakfast, not the other way around, especially since he had a long week at the shop, but Swiss wasn’t having it. They argue back and forth for a little bit.

“I’m taking you on that date today. I’m picking you at 6,” Swiss announces as he places pancakes on a plate for Mountain.  

“Oh, thank you,” Mountain takes the plate. “Are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“Nope, it’s a surprise. A little something I’ve been cooking up for a while,” Swiss says before taking a seat and cutting up his pancakes. “Wear something comfortable, and something you wouldn’t mind getting a little… dirty.”

“Are you going to explain?” the earth ghoul questions. 

“Nope,” Swiss says with a wink.

-

Swiss knocks on Mountain's door right at 6pm, not a minute early, not a minute late, exactly at 6. 

Mountain opens the door wearing a dark green Henley and black jeans. “Is this okay?” Mountain asks. 

Swiss is stunned, He just stared at Mountain for a little bit before stuttering out, “Oh, definitely. You look fantastic.” 

Swiss hands Mountain some flowers he picked up earlier that day. Placing them inside, Mountain locks up and walks down the steps, taking Swiss hand.  

“Where are we going?” The tall ghoul inquires. 

“Somewhere. Don’t worry about it sweetheart.”

After walking a few minutes down the road, they reach their destination: The Rosy Crown Cafe & Bookshop. Swiss lets go of Mountain’s hand and opens the door.

 “Swiss, what are we doing here?”

“We are on a date, my good sir. Come on.”

Swiss opens the doors and walks Mountain inside. It takes a moment for Mountain to take everything in. The blinds are all down, and there’s total privacy. Looking around, he sees strings of light are hung up, there’s a table with candles lit in the center and on either side there's a table placement and two dishes served. Soft music is playing in the background, creating a romantic, intimate space for them. 

“Swiss… how?”

“The ladies might have helped.” He smiles almost sheepishly up at the taller ghoul. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Swiss guides Mountain to the table, pulls out the chair for him before taking a seat himself. On the plate there is a serving of roasted potatoes, a kale asian salad, and a plate of creamy mushroom risotto with a fresh baked dinner roll on the side.

They dive into the meal prepared by Mist and Sunny. The earth ghoul talked about his uni work, biodegradable research projects amongst other things. Swiss cracked some jokes and delved more about his parents and his childhood. He grew up surrounded by humans and had very few interactions with ghouls. He met Sunny and Mist in elementary school and have been inseparable since then. They’re family, a pack, if you will. Mountain sips on his wine while watching Swiss enthusiastically tell stories from his childhood. 

As they finish their food, Swiss gathers their plates and sets them to the side, mentally noting to take care of them later. 

“I have something special planned for dessert, follow me,” Swiss stands up, and offers a hand to Mountain. He takes him to the kitchen, and ties an apron around him. 

“I want to ask what we're doing, but you’re not gonna tell me.” 

“You know me so well, but fine, I’ll tell you. We’re making cinnamon rolls.”

Swiss had pre-measured out the flour, cinnamon, butter, and the rest of the ingredients and placed them on the counter. 

“Oh, by 'we're making them' you mean I'm making them?!”

“Yes, but don’t worry, I’ll help.”

Swiss dumps the flour on the counter, forming a well in the center. “First, you’re going to incorporate a few things into the flour. Here,” Swiss hands Mountain a few things and he dumps them into the well. “Now mix them up using the fork, then make the well again.” 

Mountain does as he’s told. Swiss works on mixing the wet ingredients for him. “I’m going to slowly mix this in. First use the fork,” Swiss pours a small amount of the wet ingredients, making sure everything is incorporated before adding more. “Great, now use your fingers. Make your hand into a claw and mix it in. As it gets stickier, start to knead.  It’s going to get pretty sticky, but keep kneading. I still need to add in some more flour.”

Swiss stands back, watching Mountain mix the ingredients so gently, “You’re going to have to be a little rougher baby,” he states after dumping in a few more cups of flour.

Mountain starts to get tired from kneading since he’s been going at it for a few minutes. 

“Swiss, this is hard. I’m getting tired,” he complains. 

 That's not the only thing that's hard, Swiss mumbles under his breath. 

Swiss stands behind him, slightly pushing his hips against Mountain’s back, and helps him knead. Mountain turns his head back, they stare into each other's eyes for a second, and lean in, lips meeting at a feverish pace. 

“Let me take over Mount.” Swiss mumbles into the kiss. He quickly finished kneading the dough while Mountain stands behind him, kissing his neck, hands roaming his body, leaving a trail of flour and dried dough on his clothes, especially his ass.

Swiss sets the bowl with the dough aside, Mountain takes this as an opportunity to grab him and press him against the counter. He leans into Swiss, his ass pressing against the counter, he towers over Swiss for a moment before kissing him with all his might.

Swiss’ arms immediately go to the back of the Mountain’s head, pressing him closer to his mouth, fingers playing with his hair. Swiss pulls on his hair to see what kind of reaction he would get, and he got the best reaction possible. A moan escaped Mountain’s lips as his head was pulled back, foreheads joining after Mountain lets out a whine from Swiss still pulling his hair back. Mountain wanted nothing more to get Swiss naked right then and there.

“Mount…” Swiss whispers, fearing that if he spoke any louder, the moment would be ruined. 

“I'm gonna kiss you again.” Mountain announces in the same quiet tone. 

Mountain goes for Swiss neck, inhaling his scent before lightly kissing him in that little patch near his ear. He wants to bite, he knows and recognizes what this attraction is but Swiss doesn’t. He can't jump the gun and do something that could probably destroy their souls. 

Without realizing, he shakes his head, shaking the thoughts away, Swiss is too high on the love right now to catch Mountain's head shake. Instead, he moans when Mountain begins to kiss down the front of his neck to his collarbones. Tracing the outline of those delicate, sensitive bones. Swiss throws his head back, opening himself more for Mountain. His hands still tangled in his hair, tugging lightly every now and then. He leaves a few hickeys on Swiss collarbones before returning to his lips. Swiss feels Mountain's fangs when he slides his tongue into his mouth, both of them fighting for dominance. Mountain’s hands are gripping Swiss hips so tightly there's bound to be bruising tomorrow.

They hear a distant beeping that’s becoming louder and louder, then they realize it was the timer letting them know the dough was done proofing. Swiss pushes Mountain away softly. 

“Give me a second, and then we can continue, we should get these into the oven,” Swiss pants. 

Mountain, panting equally as hard, nods, but he doesn’t let go of him. He holds Swiss by the waist, continuing to kiss his neck while he rolls out the dough and spreads the cinnamon sugar butter on the dough before rolling and cutting them.

Placing the rolls into the oven, Swiss turns and continues to make out with Mountain. Without clearing out the counter, Mountain hoists Swiss up to the counter. The slightly shorter ghoul now towering over him. His hands start to roam underneath Swiss’ shirt, claws scratching lightly into his skin, enough to leave a faint raised line.

“Mount… more,” is all Swiss is able to get out. Mountain unbuttons part of Swiss shirt to give him access to his torso where he licks his V-line, tempted to go below his belt, but he stops himself. Maybe the coffee shop is not the place to suck his soul out through his dick. 

The timer goes off again letting them know the cinnamon rolls were done baking.

Mountain looks up at Swiss’ face, pleading with his eyes to not get off the counter. Swiss laughs and hops off, heading straight to the oven. 

“Would you mind grabbing the frosting from the fridge?”

Mountain nods and hands it to Swiss, who smears it on the warm cinnamon rolls, melting the frosting. 

Mountain discreetly adjusts himself and fixes his clothes before sitting on the bar. He can’t help but stare at the reminder of what occurred just moments ago. Hair messy, lips swollen, cheeks stained red, his shirt unbuttoned and untucked, a few scattered small hickies, little red lines peeking through his opened shirt.  

Mountain swallows hard. He tries to contain himself and let Swiss finish setting up dessert. 

“A cinnamon roll for you, but before you eat it, I have a special drink I’d to make you”

Swiss brings out a jar with green powder, and a bamboo whisk. Pouring a little bit of hot water over the green powder he put in a mug and whisked it until slightly frothy. He goes to the steamer with some oat milk in a cup, steams it then pours it into the mug and pumps some flavoring into it. 

Mountain’s eyes follow him from one station to the next, until the drink is presented in front of him. 

“I present a matcha latte with oat milk and a hint of rose. Try it,” Swiss encourages. 

Mountain takes a sip and it's like tasting a garden. The rose flavor bring out the flavor of the matcha.

“Swiss, this is delicious. It's amazing. It’s comforting. It makes me feel all warm and safe. It tastes like… home, in a way.” 

“I call it the Mountain Special. I was hoping you'd like it.”

“I love it so much,” Mountain smiles so big. He lets out a moan as he bites into the warm roll, “so good.”

Swiss chuckles. Before him there’s a big ghoul with frosting dripping from the corners of his mouth. Using his thumb, Swiss cleans off the frosting before sucking it clean. 

“And I love you, Mountain.” 

-

After cleaning up the kitchen, Swiss walks Mountain back to his apartment, hoping to stay the night and finish what they started in the cafe.

“Thank you for the wonderful date, Swiss. I loved every moment of it. I adore you so much. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure, Mounty.”

“Um, I know you probably want to stay, but I… uh kinda need time to process tonight, if that’s okay,” he explains, twisting his fingers, obviously nervous of some sort of negative reaction.

Swiss is unsure of what to say. “Yeah, no, yeah, that’s okay! I’ll call you tomorrow. Get some rest.” He leans in to give him a kiss, but Mountain turns, his lips landing on his cheek.

“Thanks. Have a goodnight, Swiss, get home safely.” Mountain enters his apartment leaving Swiss confused outside. 

Staring into the darkness of his apartment, he closes his eyes, leans his back against the door. 

“Fuck.” 

He exhales as tears roll down his face. 

Part 3, soon, sorry

#revenge works #Matcha Latte #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost #ghost the band #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps #mist ghoulette #sunny ghoulette #steamy make out session #angst? #barista swiss #professor mountain #coffee shop au #my fic #idk if that was a good dinner to serve but whatever #i dont go on dates