#his uncle ended up trying to kill him anyways

[javiscigarette]

Silent Night

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You’re home for the holidays and Joel isn't gonna let a drinking contest or a house full of people stop him.

Warnings: PWP ofc, established relationship, mentions of drinking/alcohol, having to keep quiet?, oral (f&m receiving), thigh grinding, creampie, breeding kink, come play, getting caught, I think that's all lmk if I missed anything

w/c: 6.6k

a/n: hiii everyone! I am in fact alive! I'm finally on break from school and this is just a lil something I wrote real quick bc I've been in the holiday spirit since before October even ended hehehe :) Anyway, thank u to the actual loml @undrthelights for beta reading and finding the perfect pics!! It's nice to be back! Please leave a comment letting me know if you liked it, support is what keeps writers going!! Love u all!!

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Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can be quiet” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse.  "You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”

You can hear them downstairs, muffled sounds of Joel and several other of your family members talking and laughing while they sip on the fancy whiskey that your dad was saving for the occasion. You opted out of it, quickly taking up the offer of the first hour or two of alone time you’ve had since you arrived at your parents house two days ago instead. You figured Joel could use the time too, talking with your dad and uncles and cousins about whatever men talk about when they’re doing whiskey tasting in the mancave of a basement. 

You managed to avoid getting roped into watching a shitty Hallmark Christmas movie with the rest of your family or helping them prep for the big dinner tomorrow. After successfully sneaking away to your old childhood bedroom that’s now redecorated as a simple guest room, you're left with nothing to do besides relax. First up was a long shower with the water so hot you nearly scalded your skin, and now you’re cozied up in bed, nose buried deep in the middle of your book while the rest of the house buzzed with muted background noise. 

Time passes without you noticing, too engrossed in your book to keep track, but eventually the bedroom door creaks open, pulling you back to reality. You’re about to tell off whoever is at the door for interrupting you, but you immediately soften when Joel slips inside, quietly closing the door behind him. 

He looks so sweet, wrapped up in a thick dark brown sweater, his curls flopping over his forehead, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose with a lopsided smile. His eyes are soft, warm, and a bit glassy as he looks at you like you’re the best thing he ever did see.

"Think your dad is trying to kill me" he says, his words slurring just a bit as he crosses the room over to the bed.

You giggle, watching him plop down on the bed on his back, his head rolling over to look at you, "Are you surprised? He does this to you every year."

It's true, every holiday at your parents house, your dad insists on the whiskey "tasting", which is really just him pouring heavy handed shots and glasses and seeing who's going to be the last one to tap out. Usually it's just him and his brothers in the end, hashing out some decades old sibling rivalry in the form of a drinking contest. And ever since the first time you brought Joel home for the holiday five years ago, your father has insisted on dragging him down there and challenging him too.

The first year was the worst with Joel not heeding any of your warnings about how much liquor your dad would actually push on him. Joel was so sick by the end of the night that he made best friends with the toilet and passed out on the couch, then spent most of the next morning with a massive hangover, apologizing profusely to your dad about it who just laughed and said that he can try again next year.

Thankfully, Joel knows his limits now and has made peace with the fact that he'll never beat your dad at his own game. It doesn't mean that the challenge doesn't still stand.

"No" he mumbles, a dopey smile spreading across his face, "Guess I jus' never expect him to pour shots big enough to knock out a horse"

"How many did you have this time?" You ask, bookmarking your place in the book before setting it aside, sitting up a little straighter and adjusting the pillows behind your back.

"Jus' three."

"Oh, so you are  just a lightweight then?"

"I'm not a fuckin' lightweight" he grumbles with a dramatic pout. 

You laugh as you turn to lay on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. Your hand instinctively falls to his hair, a small content sigh falling from his lips as your fingertips skate across his hairline and glide through his soft curls.  scooting closer to him and reaching down to run your fingers through his hair, "Okay, baby" you hum, smiling when his eyes fall shut as your nails gently scratch his scalp, "If you say so."

Joel melts under your touch, like a cat basking in the sun, a lazy little grin on his face and a dreamy, far off look in his eyes. His face is still flushed, the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks a rosy shade of pink, his lips slightly parted, a few more stray curls falling across his forehead. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and the soft, tender look in his eyes when he finally looks back up at you melts you from the inside out.

You cup the side of his face in your hand and ;ean in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. "You're so cute when you're drunk" you murmur, moving kissing his cheek.

"M'not drunk"

You pull back to look him in the eye, smiling, "Sure you're not"

"I'm not" he whines, "M'just a lil' tipsy."

"Alright" you hum, pressing a quick kiss to his pouty lips.

Joel follows your mouth with the softest whine when you start to pull back, his large hand cupping the back of your head, holding you still while he kisses you, needy, but still so sweet. The taste of whiskey is heavy on his tongue as it slides against yours, a soft, satisfied noise rumbling in his chest when you part your lips further, kissing him deeper. 

When he finally lets you break the kiss, you're left just a little breathless and dazed, a giddy feeling swirling low in your belly. His pupils are blown when he looks up at you, his lips spit slick and plump, a lopsided smile on his face. He turns a little more on his side facing you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt until his hand slips easily underneath like it was meant to be there. The warmth of his palm smoothing up and down the curve of your spine is soothing, his fingers gently tracing over your ribs and the dip of your waist, the slight scratch of his calluses over your skin sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your lips, licking his own. Realistically, you knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as he entered the bedroom. You know how he gets when he's like this, soft, sweet, and incredibly needy. With all the amount of times he tugged you into a bar bathroom after he's had a few, or when Tommy drops him off after a night out and he's already halfway to undressing you before the front door even shuts. You know he's trouble like this, but you can never deny him when he's looking at you like that, like you're the only thing he needs, the only thing he's ever needed.

He leans in to kiss you again, slow and sweet, his fingers splaying on your lower back and keeping you close. His mouth moves languidly against yours, the tip of his tongue tracing your bottle lip and his teeth sinking in the slightest bit to nip and tug, pulling a desperate little sound out from the back of your throat. 

He sighs at the small sound and starts to lean into you more, using his weight to roll you over until you're flat on your back with him hovering above you, his forearms on either side of your head with his knees bracketing your hips. The kisses grow hungrier, wetter, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he's trying to breathe the very air from your lungs. 

He shifts a bit and you moan softly into his mouth when his thigh slots between yours, the firm muscle of his thigh pushing right up against the apex of your thighs, the perfect amount of pressure to make heat spark and smolder in your belly. He does it again, rocking his thigh up against you just a little harder, swallowing the needy whimper that you let out, the heat and friction making you ache. 

You can’t help but grind against his thigh, the seam of your sweatpants pressing against the damp spot that’s already forming on your panties and digging into your clit just right. You’re chasing the growing pleasure, the firmness of his thigh and the intoxicating taste of whiskey on his soft lips mixed with the faint trace of his peppermint toothpaste. You’d give anything to have him, for him to take you, but the sounds of laughter and chatter coming from downstairs is a rude reminder of reality. 

"Joel" you warn with absolutely no heat in your voice, his lips grazing the sensitive spot under your ear, "We can't.”

He ignores you for a beat, crashing his lips back on yours and kissing you until he needs to come up for air. 

"We can" he says, his voice gravelly and thick with want, the deep rumble vibrating in his chest. "We're bein' real quiet"

His lips trail across the line of your jaw and up your cheek before landing on your mouth again. The slow, lazy drag of his tongue against yours makes you throb, another soft when escaping you and the muscles in your legs and stomach tightening as you make no effort to stop moving against his thigh. 

“Everyone will hear us” you try feebly, knowing it’s futile. 

Joel smirks against your lips, the bastard. “Nah. I’ll be quiet.” 

You know he's a damn liar and a bad one at that. In what world could you be quiet with his hands and mouth on you, with his thick cock buried deep inside you, stretching you out and filling you up so good that your toes curl? And in what world could he be quiet, not running his mouth about how good you feel, how pretty you look stuffed full of him, how well you take him. You know exactly how it'll go, if the numerous failed previous attempts are anything to go by.

But then his lips are on the side of your neck, and you're forgetting why it matters. You let your eyes fall shut as his lips press gentle, wet kisses up and down the column of your throat, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching and tickling in the best way. You're quickly forgetting why this was a bad idea to begin with.

Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can,” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse point. 

"You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?” 

“I don’t- oh…” 

The rest of your sentence dies on the tip of your tongue as he pushes his thigh against you, grinding it up against your core in a way that has your head spinning and toes curling, the pleasure sharp and delicious as it melts into your veins. 

“That’s right” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll do whatever I say, huh?” 

There’s a pause and when you open your eyes, his are dark, his pupils blown wide, the deep brown nearly swallowed whole. His hair is tousled and curlier than ever, a few loose strands hanging in his face. His lips are slightly parted, swollen, red, and sick and shiny from your kisses. He’s an absolute sight and you can’t help but nod, eager to do whatever he wants, whatever he asks, because god it’s always worth it. 

His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners and the lopsided smirk on his face widens. He’s the fucking devil. 

Just the thought of him taking you with the rest of the house full of your extended family is making your veins buzz, excitement bubbling low in your belly. But you're well aware of just how thin the walls are and how nosy some members of your family are and you can't fathom how awkward it would be to come down for breakfast the next morning after the whole house heard you getting absolutely railed.

"It’ll be okay" he assures, reading your thoughts, his hands slipping under your shirt again. The fabric bunches up over his wrists as he slides his palms up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "M’not gonna let anyone else hear you. Just me."

Fuck.

His simple words are enough to convince you, not that you needed much convincing in the first place. He had you wrapped around his finger and him around yours, and there was no way you were going to say no to what you know will come next. A jolt of electricity shoots down your spine and settles hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach. Your resolve breaks, your legs falling open further, letting him get even closer, and Joel lets out a soft, happy noise against your mouth.

"Atta girl" he hums, his voice rough and deep, "So good for me, aren't ya baby?"

"Always" you manage to reply, the word more of a sigh as you arch your back, his thumb teasing your nipple until it's pebbled and hard.

He gives into you easily, tugging your shirt up and over your head. His mouth lands on your chest as soon as it’s exposed, immediately licking and kissing across your collarbones and the swell of your breast. He noses along the valley between them, the coarse hair of his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can feel him grinning against your skin before he nips and sucks at the supple flesh until a red mark rises to the surface. 

You squirm beneath him, his leg still nestled perfectly between yours and pressing against you every time he shifts. The pressure is building in your gut, your clit aching and throbbing. The feeling is almost too much with his hot wet mouth now wrapped around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak making it harder and harder for you to keep quiet. 

“Joel,” you hiss, the word half warning and half plea. 

“Hush, baby” he mumbles against your skin. His fingers replace his mouth, pinching and teasing your swollen, spit-slick nipple as he kisses across your chest to lavish your other nipple with the same attention. 

“Gotta be quiet, remember?” he says when he pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. “Unless you want everyone hearin’ ya” 

You open your mouth to say something in protest, to tell him that he’s making things a lot harder right now, but then he starts moving, sliding down the bed and the words die in your throat. The look he gives you as he settles on his stomach between your thighs is sinful, his eyes dark and mischievous, his lips pulled up into a smirk. 

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweats, slowly pulling them along with your panties down your legs, leaving you completely bare. Your stomach swoops at the sight of his eyes trained to your center and your thighs twitch, wanting to snap shut and hide. But his hands on both of your thighs keep you spread open for him. You swallow thickly, your breath catching in your throat, the anticipation building in the pit of your belly as your slick starts to drip down the cleft of your ass. 

Joel’s mouth falls open slightly, a shaky breath escaping him. “Fuck, baby” he sighs, tongue darting out to lick his cherry red lips, his eyes glazing over. A small, content smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, a swell of pride blossoming in your chest. He looks wrecked, like a starving man eyeing his first meal, and the way he's looking at you so intently, like you're the best thing he's ever seen, the thing that's kept him alive all these years, is making your heart pound almost painfully in your chest. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” he praises, his hand running along the inside of your thigh. “And all mine.” 

Like he can’t wait another second, he’s leaning in and licking a long, wet stripe up your center, dragging his tongue through your folds from your leaking hole to your swollen, needy clit. The feeling of his tongue on you pulls a soft, broken sound from you. You clap your hand over your mouth as your head spins, a rush of pleasure washing over you making the muscles in your thighs and stomach twitch and flex. 

He does it again and again, and every time his tongue flicks over the swollen bud, you let out a soft whine that sounds far too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

He groans against you, his mouth already wet and messy as he laps at your pussy like he's starving for it, like he would die without tasting you. His eyes are locked on yours, the look in them so dark and primal that it makes your walls clench, more slick freely leaking out of you and onto his tongue. He laps it up happily, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you steady as his mouth works your clit.

He lets out a quiet, breathy moan when you slide your hand through his hair once again, your fingers tangling in and pulling on the soft brown strands. His eyes flutter shut, a shuddery exhale falling from his parted lips, and the feeling of his warm breath fanning over your wet, sensitive center has you stifling another high pitched whimper.

You roll your hips up against his face, desperate for more, and he gets the hint, the flat of his tongue swiping up through your folds a few more times before he dips it into your entrance, pushing in and out while his nose nudges at your clit. You're writhing beneath him, tugging at his hair, trying so hard to be quiet but failing miserably, soft, desperate little noises pouring out of your mouth. You know he's loving it too, making no effort to keep your noises at bay, not giving a single fuck about who might hear.

He moans against your cunt, the vibrations making you jolt, your hips rolling up to meet him. You're panting, the hand that isn't buried in his hair gripping the sheets tight enough that your knuckles turn white, and your back arches when his tongue fucks in and out of you faster, rougher.

"Joel, fuck" you gasp, "I- I'm-

He growls, the sound muffled by your pussy, the vibrations and the feeling of his stubble dragging along your inner thighs making your toes curl, the familiar coil in your belly tightening, your thighs trembling.

He doubles down, bringing a hand between your legs to replace his tongue with two thick fingers sinking into you and curling up against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, his tongue circling your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, his mouth and hand working in tandem to pull you apart.

"Fuck, I'm close" you whimper, his fingers crooking against that spot inside of you, sending white hot fire coursing through your veins as your slick leaks down his fingers and into his palm like hot honey. 

He hums, sucking your clit between his lips, and your legs clamp around his head, your hand tightening in his hair as your orgasm crashes over you, your back arching off the mattress, a muffled, broken moan spilling out from behind your hand. He fucks you through it, his tongue flattening out against your clit while the tips of his fingers rub against that sweet spot inside of you, sending more sparks of pleasure tingling up and down your spine.

When it's too much, when the sensitivity makes tears prick in the corners of your eyes, you make a feeble attempt to push him away. He pulls back, sitting up on his knees, his chin and cheeks wet with your slick, his pupils blown so wide that the brown is almost completely swallowed up by black. He stares at you, his gaze so heavy and intense that it makes another shiver run down your spine.

"You're not being very quiet" he smirks as he moves off the bed to stand up.

You roll your eyes, still coming down from the aftershocks, your thighs quivering, "Yeah, no shit" you mutter, propping yourself up on your elbows.

He chuckles as he pulls off his sweater and the t-shirt underneath it before he starts unbuckling his belt and working on his jeans. You sit up, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, reaching out and batting his hands away, taking over and quickly unfastening the button and pulling the zipper down.

He doesn't protest, letting you push his jeans and boxers down his legs until he kicks them all the way off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs, flushed a deep red with slippery precum beading at the tip. You reach out, wrapping your hand around the base and taking a moment or two to revel in the familiar weight and warmth of him in your hand.

He shudders, a low moan rumbling in his chest, his eyes slipping shut as his hand moves to cup the back of your head. He watches you intently as you take your time, lazily stroking him, rubbing the pad of your thumb over the leaking tip and tracing the throbbing veins that run along the sides. His breathing grows heavy, his jaw clenching and his stomach muscles twitching as he tries so hard not to buck his hips up into the loose circle of your fist.

"C'mon, sweetheart" he pleads, the words leaving his mouth as a low, breathless groan, "Get me all nice and wet for you."

He doesn't have to ask twice. You lean forward and you dart your tongue out to lap up the bead of precum, humming at the salty, bitter taste of it, swirling the flat of your tongue over the head of his cock, your hand pumping the rest of his shaft. His breath catches in his throat, a stuttered curse falling from his lips when you dip your tongue into the slit, teasing more precum out.

He groans, his grip on the back of your head tightening, urging you to take him into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. You sink down, flattening your tongue and taking him all the way until he hits the back of your throat, the tip of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. You breathe through your nose, hollowing your cheeks, swallowing around him, and the deep, guttural groan that he lets out has you squirming, slick leaking out of your cunt and onto the sheets below.

"There ya go" he pants, his head lolling back, "Oh, baby, that's it. S'fuckin' perfect."

You pull off, a string of spit and precum connecting his cock to your bottom lip, and you look up at him through your lashes.

"Need to be quiet" you remind him, "Or else I'll stop"

He lets out a shaky breath and nods, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He's not used to keeping quiet, not used to not telling you how good you feel, not used to not begging you to let him cum in that low, raspy tone that never fails to make you weak.

"I'll be good," he whispers, breathless and needy. "Promise."

Your stomach swoops at his words, arousal burning bright in your belly. Unable to stay away for much longer, you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock. His hips jerk, another drop of precum leaking out. You lick it up, swirling your tongue around the sensitive, swollen tip before sinking down again. You take him into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him, bobbing your head slowly and steadily.

He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood trying with all his might to keep his noises in as you drool all over his cock. He can't take his eyes off you, watching the way he disappears into the slick heat of your mouth. You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around him, spit dripping down his cock and leaking out the corners of your mouth while your eyes water as you take him as far as you can.

You take him deeper, and you swallow, your throat convulsing around him, and the way his whole body shudders makes you smile, proud of the effect you have on him. He's so big and thick, and you both know you can't fit him all the way down your throat, but seeing you try your best is enough to make his thighs start to shake. 

His cock hits the back of your throat again and again, the tip dipping into the soft, warm, tight space, and Joel's breathing is getting heavier and faster, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows knitted together.

"Shit" he grits out under his breath, "That's it, sweetheart. That's fuckin' it."

The praise goes straight between your legs, a fresh wave of slick leaking out of you and it's too tempting to resist, so you slip your hand between your thighs and rub circles around your clit, moaning softly around his cock.

He hisses, his eyes snapping down, watching your hand disappear between your legs.

"Are you touchin' yourself?" he asks, the words coming out rough and choked, his eyebrows raised.

You nod, sliding a finger into yourself, and you pull off his cock, panting, a thin strand of spit connecting the head to your bottom lip.

"Can't help it" you whine pathetically, your voice already raspy from how far his cock had been down your throat.

Joel groans, his dick twitching, and he's had enough. He takes a step back, and you let go, a little confused and worried that you've done something wrong. But he just takes hold of your arms and yanks you off the bed, his strong hands easily manhandling you, and then he's pushing you, turning you around and bending you over the side of the mattress.

"Oh" you breathe out, bracing yourself on your forearms, arching your back, sticking your ass up in the air.

You don't have to wait long for him to move. His hand is smoothing over your ass, the other one guiding his cock towards your sopping cunt. He teases the tip between your folds, spreading your slick and dragging his head over your swollen clit a few times before lining himself up and sinking in.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, letting out a stuttering breath, the familiar, delicious burn of his thick cock stretching you out making your eyes roll back into your head. You've made peace with the face that you'll never be used to his size. It'll always be too much, the feeling of him pushing into, forcing your walls to make room for him will always make you clench and shiver.

He's got his hands on your hips, holding you steady as he bottoms out, his hips flush with the curve of your ass with the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. He holds himself there for a moment, both of you adjusting to the feeling, and you're trying so hard not to moan, to keep your noises muffled by the mattress, and you know Joel's struggling too, his jaw clenched tight and his brow furrowed.

"Good girl" he whispers, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, "Taking my cock so well, aren't ya?"

You nod, whimpering, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

He pulls back and thrusts back in, setting a steady, slow rhythm, the wet slide of his cock making the most obscene sounds. And it's driving you crazy, the need to let out loud, your chest burning with the effort of keeping your noises in. He keeps his pace slow, not wanting to make more noise with his hips snapping against your ass. It’s nearly tortuous though, the drag of his cock in and out of you so slow that you can feel every ridge as he takes his sweet time. You can only handle it for a few moments before the tingling hints of pain from the stretch subside and the burning need for him to fuck you senseless takes over.

"Joel" you whine, "Faster, please."

He leans over you, his front pressed against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "You're not gonna stay quiet if I do," he says, his voice deep and gravelly, "Just take what I give you, sweetheart."

You're so worked up, the slow pace makes you even more desperate for him, and you can't help it, you need more, and you reach a hand back and grab his hip, urging him to speed up.

"I-I'll try" you promise, "Please, just- Just fuck me, Joel, please"

He hesitates, but the way you're squirming beneath him is so tempting, and the way his cock is throbbing and dripping inside of you is telling him that he needs more too.

Before you can say anything else, he's pulling back, the thick, heavy weight of him sliding out of you. You whimper at sudden empty feeling but you don't have time to complain before he's flipping you over onto your back and scooting you up the bed before climbing on top of you. You can’t help but notice how big he is, the muscles flexing smoothly in his strong arms that box you in as he hovers above you, nearly encompassing your entire body underneath his. His mouth is on yours before you can even blink, his tongue slipping past your lips and kissing you like his life depends on it.

He settles between your legs, his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs, his cock dragging along your clit again warm and heavy, and you gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth. You're squirming again, desperate to feel him stretch you out more and he takes mercy on you, reaching between your bodies and grabbing the base of his cock, guiding the thick head towards your entrance.

"Gotta be quiet, baby" he warns, his eyes boring into yours as he looks down at you. "Those pretty noises are just for me, yeah? Can't have anyone hearin' 'em."

You nod frantically and the next second he's pushing in, the fat head of his cock forcing its way into you and bottoming out in one smooth motion. You let out a gasp that's definitely too loud but Joel is quick to remedy it, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, his fingers splaying across your cheek.

"Shh" he shushes you, his hips rolling, the slow, lazy drag of his cock against your walls making you clench around him. Your eyes roll back, your back arching as his hand stops all the whiny little sounds you can't help but make. He continues to fuck you slow and deep, his cock sliding in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing softly in the room.

You can't take your eyes off him, watching his eyes squeeze shut, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he fucks you, his brows knitted together and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He looks beautiful like this, sweat glistening on his skin, his jaw tight, and his eyes shut tight, his mouth hanging open with his breaths coming out in soft, barely audible pants.

"Mmm" he hums, his hips picking up speed, his cock pushing impossibly deeper. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby. Fuck."

You reflexively clench around him and a shudder runs through his whole body.

"Gettin' real tight" he pants, "Tryna milk the cum right outta me, huh? Tryna make me fill up that pretty pussy?"

You whimper into his palm, your pussy fluttering, a fresh wave of slick coating his cock, and he groans, his hips picking up speed.

"S'what you want?" he asks in a hushed tone, his hand still pressed firmly over your mouth. "You want me to fill you up? Make a mess of that pretty pussy? Breed you until you're fuckin' stuffed, baby girl?"

Your back arches off the bed, the coil in your belly so tight that you think you might pass out. He's rambling, his thrusts losing rhythm, his breathing getting ragged and choppy, his chest heaving and his thighs shaking.

"That's it" he coaxes when you tighten around him even more, "Can feel it, can feel how close you are. Go on, baby, cum on my cock. Wanna feel that tight, wet cunt cum all over my cock, please, baby."

His hips snap forward, his cock pushing deep into you, the tip rubbing against the spongy spot deep inside you that makes the coil in your belly finally snap. Your eyes roll back, a muffled, broken moan falling from your lips as your entire body convulses, your orgasm washing over you and making your toes curl as your walls flutter around his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

Joel lets out a deep, low groan, his hips stuttering as he fucks you through your orgasm. His hand slips away from your mouth so he can grip your hips with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you in place so he can chase after his own release. His chest is tight as he holds in his grunts and groans, but it’s barely any use with the lewd noises that fill the room as your pussy gushes around him, your slick leaking past the tight seal of your walls around him and dripping down to his balls. 

"Oh, shit, baby. Christ,” he chokes out, his stomach muscles clenching as his hips slam into yours, his cock pushing impossibly deeper and harder. “Keep makin’ a mess, keep lettin’ me feel it. That’s it. Fuckin’ hell.” 

You can feel his cock starting to throb inside of you and you know he’s close. And you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, the need to let him know just how good he’s making you feel is destroying any bit of common sense. 

“Want you to fill me up,” you whine. “Please, Joel, wanna feel it.” 

That’s all it takes. His jaw clenches, his nose scrunching as his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches and pulses as he buries himself as deep as he can get before spilling into, filling you with thick, hot ropes of his cum. His hips jerking and stuttering d you clench around him, squeezing and milking him for everything he has while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his broken, ragged moans against your skin.

"So good,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ perfect.” 

The praise goes straight between your legs and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He lifts his head, his palm resting on your cheek as he lifts his head and presses his lips against yours, kissing you languidly. His hips rock back and forth lazily, pushing his cum in as deep as he can get it. You melt into the bed underneath him, the only things keeping you tethered to the earth being your fingers combing through his hair and your legs tightening around his waist.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, and you're both left panting, trying to catch your breath. You listen to the muffled sounds of people downstairs, the movie playing and their drunken voices filtering in through the door, and Joel must be thinking the same thing because he chuckles.

"Well" he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your cheekbone, "I don't think anyone heard us."

"You better hope they didn't" you retort, a grin on your face. Joel rolls his eyes. "That's a weird way to say thank you" he teases. You start to laugh, but the sound dies in your throat, morphing to a whimper instead when he starts pulling out his softening cock.

"Joel" you whine, but he doesn't stop. "Joel, please. It's-"

He's not listening, he's too focused on the way his cock looks when he pulls out. The tip slips out of you, and the rest follows, and his eyes widen as he watches a string of thick, sticky cum stretch from the tip of his cock to your cunt. It breaks, falling to your thigh, and he licks his lips. He can't tear his eyes away, watching the way your cunt flutters, and his cum starts to drip out, running down your slit, the obscene sight making Joel's spent cock twitch. 

"Shit" he mutters under his breath, "Ain't that a pretty picture."

He reaches down, dragging a finger through the mess of cum and slick and gathering it on his finger before pushing it back into your cunt. You clench around the digit before he sighs and pulls it back out.

"Gonna be leaking all day tomorrow" he murmurs, almost to himself.

You whimper, the thought of having him dripping out of you all day like that has renewed arousal already seeping into your veins. 

“It’s okay” he assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care ya. Clean you up and put my cock back in right where it belongs, how’s that sound, hm?” 

You sigh, nodding, a wave of fatigue washing over you. “Sounds perfect,” you agree. 

You watch as he climbs off of you and starts to move, but a sudden, sharp sound of knuckles knocking on the other side of the bedroom door makes you both freeze. 

“You two are fucking disgusting!” the voice of your cousin calls out, accompanied by the sound of a couple other people giggling and laughing. “Put some goddamn clothes on and get down here!” 

You and Joel exchange glances, his eyes wide and apologetic, his cheeks burning bright red as you give him a look that says I told you so. 

“Alright, alright, we’re coming” he yells back. 

“We’re coming! Oh, yeah we’re coming!” another voice teases, the sound of everyone bursting out laughing quickly follows. 

“We’re never doing that again” Joel mutters and you can’t help but chuckle. 

“Yeah right. Keep telling yourself that”

Thank you for reading!!! Plsss let me know if you enjoyed hehehe

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

[hellfirenacht]

Clean (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: After the battle in the Upside Down, you and Eddie try and get clean.

Tags: Angst, hurt/comfort, smut, happy ending, no use of y/n, reader is not described, unprotected PiV sex, light choking, pet name, barely beta'd

7.7k words

You weren’t completely sure how you ended up back in the right side up, in your home with Eddie. After the fight with Vecna, everything was a blur. You remembered sirens, and an earthquake, and you and Eddie being arrested, refusing to be separated from each other but being forced apart anyway. You remember being bailed out somehow, Eddie’s name being cleared and waiting outside the police station for hours until he stumbled out and looked at you. 

Both of you stared at each other for a long time outside the station, battered and bruised and covered in cuts and bite marks, but alive. It was a fucking miracle considering Eddie had thrown himself into a suicide mission. He’d run, distracted the bats and had you not managed to grab him and tackle him into another trailer he’d be dead, you were sure of it. 

Looking at him outside of the station, you were about ready to kill him yourself. Your eyes burned with tears and if looks could kill, he’d be dust. It took everything not to slug him right then and there for daring to think that he could throw his life away like that, for a town that hated him. 

How could you? Your look said. 

I’m sorry. Came the silent reply as he dared to take a step closer. When you didn’t step back, his arms wrapped around you tightly. 

The two of you held each other for a long moment, and each passing second your anger dissolved as the emotions you’d been ignoring and repressing over the past few days started to surface. You couldn’t do this here. You couldn’t allow yourself to process this outside of the police station, not when the two of you were covered in sweat and blood. 

His hand gripped yours tightly, as if you were the last lifeline he had in this world. There was so much more that needed to be done. He had to tell his uncle he was alive, you had to check on Max and the others, Eddie probably needed some sort of lawyer. You had to see Steve and Robin and see what happened with Vecna while the two of you were in holding. 

But it was late, nearly midnight and neither of you had a walkie talkie anymore and the weight of what the two of you had been through was starting to catch up. 

Your apartment was small, cozy even. Eddie walked in with you, having followed you blindly back home. You couldn’t let him go, even when you dropped his hand to get you both some water from the kitchen you were constantly looking over your shoulder to make sure that he was still there, that he was still real. 

The whole time, he was looking at you, too. 

The two of you sat on your bed, hands clasped together tightly as you both tried to figure out what to say or do. You’d won, Vecna was dead and the gates were closed. You were alive, Eddie was alive and his name was cleared. If this was Eddie’s campaign, you two would be heroes, celebrating and drinking and would be standing tall and proud. 

Instead, the two of you were holding hands on your bed. Staring down at the floor as you both tried to sort through the horrors you’d seen in the past four days. Your eyes closed, and you saw everything; the news of Eddie being suspected of murder, the bats attacking, the upside down, Eddie’s back as he ran away-

A tear slid down your cheek and you gripped his hand harder, and in response he squeezed back. You took a deep, slow breath-

“We... stink.” You weren’t sure you meant to say that out loud but it broke the silence between the two of you. Eddie was silent for a few seconds before letting out a breath that almost counted for a laugh.

“Yeah... yeah we probably do. I haven’t showered in... shit. I don’t want to think about it.” He said. 

“We should shower.” You said, not meaning anything by it. 

“We should.” 

The two of you were quiet for another few minutes, neither of you moving. Having Eddie out of your site, even though you knew he’d be in a room that he wouldn’t be able to disappear in, made your stomach twist unpleasantly. 

But he needed a shower, he fucking deserved to hog all the hot water he wanted after what he’d been through. So you stood up, still holding his hand. “I’ll... show you how the shower works.” 

He followed you wordlessly to the bathroom, and you rummaged through your cabinet and pulled out a spare toothbrush for him. Eddie grabbed it and the two of you made your way over to the sink, brushing your teeth as the first step to feeling like a human again. 

“The left one is the hot water.” you said, turning the shower on for him. “And this button makes it a shower and not a bath.” 

He was staring at you, and you had the feeling that what you were saying was the least important thing going through his mind right now. You didn’t blame him. 

“There’s clean towels right there.” you pointed to the towels on the hooks by the sink. 

The water ran, and it was already starting to get a bit foggy in the bathroom. You turned to look at Eddie, who was still staring at you. His mouth partially opened as if he wanted to say something but for once lacking the words. 

“Take all the time you need.” you said, and started towards the door. His hand grabbed yours, stopping you from moving forward. 

“I...” Eddie said, his large doe eyes were looking at yours with a million different emotions. He didn’t want you to go. You didn’t want to leave. 

There had been an underlying tension between the two of you through this whole week. From the finale of his campaign with Hellfire to you saving his life there was something there. You would have always easily admitted that you found Eddie attractive but had never let yourself move past that. 

The moment that he’d disappeared, you felt like your world had blacked out, only returning to  your senses when he’d had you pinned against the wall of Reefer Rick’s boathouse with a broken beer bottle against your throat. You’ll never forget the fear in his eyes, like a wild animal cornered as the glass poked at your neck as his gaze darted between you and the others. 

What a terrible time to realize that you might be in love with Eddie Munson. 

You had been swallowing your emotions all week, focusing on the task at hand. Dustin brought Eddie junk food, you made sure there was something of substance in the grocery run. At least something that he could heat up so he wasn’t surviving on pure sugar. When the others were busy trying to piece together Vecna, you’d kept your own walkie close, updating him every step of the way. 

You don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up to Reefer Ricks as the basketball team seared for Eddie. You’d given him just enough time to escape without suspicion, and as thanks you had been witness to the gruesome murder of Patrick in the water of Rick’s boathouse. 

The memory was pushed down as far as you could, and you were brought back to reality by Eddie taking a hesitant step closer. You had never realized how badly you needed him in your life, the freak who’d given you a place to feel safe in a town where a toe outside of normalcy was seen as a crime. 

You needed him, and by the look in his eyes, he needed you, too. 

There wasn’t anything to say, words wouldn’t do anything in a time where actions meant everything. So you squeezed his hand and pulled it away, reaching up to his shoulders to start pushing off both his battle jacket and leather jacket. The heavy garments fell to the floor and he pushed them away with his foot to a corner. You reached up and pulled off his bandana, freeing his hair and tossing it as well. 

Eddie kneeled down and unlaced his shoes, as well as yours. Your shoes and socks were both discarded as he stood back up. You took his hand again, removing each of his rings carefully followed by his bracelet and watch and setting them on the counter. There was blood in the mouth of the pig ring that made your stomach turn and you looked back at Eddie instead. 

His Hellfire shirt was stained with blood and sweat and god knows what else, and he discarded it quickly. Small cuts and bruises littered his body, and you looked over each visible wound. Distress filled you, and you swallowed hard, trying not to think about the bats attacking and biting him just hours before. You’d been so strong up until now for him, and you’d be strong again until you could finally be alone. 

You weren’t expecting him to cup your jaw and tilt your head up to look at him. His brown eyes looked straight into your own and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes slid close, one of his hands moving to the back of your neck. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the slightly scratchy callouses of his fingertips, the way his hand would squeeze slightly on reflex reminding you that he was here and safe. 

Safe. 

That thought alone nearly broke you as it passed through your mind. Eddie was safe, and he wasn’t dead and he wasn’t going to jail for murder. He was alive and cleared and free. 

You let out a choked sob and tried again to push down everything you were feeling but his hand squeezed tighter and his other hand wrapped around your middle and pulled you close. You let out a shuddering sob against his chest, holding his arm for dear life as you tried to calm yourself. 

It’s... really hard to cry with the scent of blood and sweat and boy filling your nose and shocking your senses. 

You met his eyes as you pulled away, but his hands remained firm on you, keeping you grounded. Eddie’s eyes were red and bloodshot, both of you were exhausted. 

Just hold it together. You said to yourself as you pulled your shirt off over your head, and fought with the button on your jeans. Eddie reached down to help you, his thumbs brushing over the bruise on your hand you’d earned from punching a demobat. You stepped out of your pants and reached for his, dropping the bullet belt on the ground which echoed with an alarming clang. 

“Jesus.” Eddie muttered. 

“Why did Erica even grab that?” you asked, as you both stared at it. “Those bullets don’t even work with Nancy’s gun.” 

It was a question without an answer, one of thousands from this week. 

You went back to his pants, pulling on the belt and.. Well that didn’t work. There was a handcuff around his belt that you tugged on. You’d noticed it before a few times, and had always wanted to question this particular fashion choice. But you never did, not wanting him to know that you had ever glanced at his crotch, no matter how innocent the circumstances. 

“Here, it’s uh... a little fiddly.” Eddie said, moving your hands away as he jiggled the cuff and it opened with a metallic click. You reached out again, removing the offending item and hesitated for a moment as your thumb and forefinger held onto his zipper. 

You looked up at him. Are you sure? He nodded and you pulled down his pants, leaving you both in your underwear.

A gentle push on your shoulder had you turning around as he unclasped your bra, letting it join the rest of the discarded clothes before you slid your fingers into your underwear and pulled them down before you lost the nerve. 

You could hear Eddie let out a shuddering breath and when you turned around there was a red flush underneath the layer of dirt on his face. But he didn’t look down at you, not yet, only focusing on your eyes as he also pulled down his boxers.

Neither of you made a move, only staring up at one another for a long time as the water ran. You took in every detail of his face, as if this was the first and last time you’d seen him. His long hair was a greasy mess, his fringe plastered to his forehead and covered in sweat. Dirt and blood speckled his face and there was a cut on his cheek. 

How were his eyes so impossibly round and expressive? You had no idea how he could wear every emotion on his face and yet still not have a clue what he was thinking. You two stood naked in the bathroom, something that would have been laughable to imagine just a few weeks ago, but now it was the least crazy thing that had happened to you in even twelve hours. 

Eddie made the first move, carefully placing his hand on your lower back and pushing you towards the shower. You stepped in, Eddie right behind you as the hot water hit your skin. You let out a hiss as it hit a cut on your shoulder, but other than that it felt... fucking amazing. 

You reached out of the shower to the sink to grab the antibacterial soap that Eddie had left at your place months before after getting the black widow on his chest done. Your mind flashed to him leaning against the counter with his shirt off as you had carefully cleaned the fresh ink. He’d been making a fuss about how it burned and you had scolded him for going to a shady scratcher’s basement and that he was lucky that he didn’t get an infection. 

Had that only been a few months ago? 

Now his tattoo was healed, but there were new wounds to tend to, new permanent fixtures on his body that you wish were just from an illegal tattoo gun. You grabbed a clean washcloth and finally looked over his body. 

It wasn’t like it was your first time seeing a man naked, and you’d seen Eddie shirtless plenty of times before. There was no denying this was different though, and your eyes wandered down between his legs for just a moment, curiosity getting the better of you in the moment because it was better than letting your mind stay trapped in the Upside Down. 

He wasn’t hard. You didn’t blame him, you doubted you could get aroused in this state. You were both tired and gross. You pulled your focus away from his crotch and back to the washcloth, lathering it up and began to wash his shoulders and neck first. 

Eddie’s hands made their way to your hips, unable to stop himself from touching you. Touching you meant that you both were real. 

He let out a small noise in the back of his throat as you began to gently wash away the gime on his neck and shoulders. Dirt and sweat flowed down each of your bodies from the water stream, and you focused as best you could on cleaning each of the cuts on his body, even if he let out grunts of discomfort. 

Your hands started washing lower, running the cloth against his chest and the black widow you’d cleaned a dozen times for him before. Eddie hissed as the cloth brushed over his hard nipples and you couldn’t tell if it was because it felt good or didn’t. You moved lower, washing his stomach and his hands held your hips tighter. It was becoming a game of chicken to see how far down you’d go. 

You were staring at his dick as your hands hovered at his hip bones. It’s not like you could help it, well, that was a lie, you probably could. But it had twitched just slightly, and your mind had raced with a thousand dirty thoughts. 

Not the time. You scolded yourself as you tried to figure out how to proceed. 

Sensing your hesitation, Eddie reached behind you for another washcloth and turned you around. 

“It.. might be better if I do this part.” he said in your ear and your skin erupted in goosebumps. “Between the lake water and the sweat and everything, yeah. Just, give me a second to do that part myself.”

Jesus Christ, he was talking about washing his ass and your body had still reacted. What the fuck was wrong with you? Well other than falling in love with your friend and Dungeon Master, nearly losing him to monsters, nearly losing him again to the justice system-

Something soft rubbed your back and the tension you’d been holding suddenly evaporated. While you were distracted, Eddie had finished his own business and had grabbed your loofah. He was washing your back in slow circles, getting the dirt off of you as well.

You let out a quiet noise and his hand froze for just a moment before resuming. Maybe in another timeline you would have been embarrassed about the noise you made, but not this time. Not when you were touch starved from him, not when he was naked and touching you, not when you two felt impossibly close and yet still so fucking far apart. It was a balancing act, a dance that neither of you knew the music to. Each movement was careful, hesitant, as if one wrong move might scare the other away. 

There will be no more retreating from Eddie, the Banished. Did that extend to you? With the way his fingers slid down your spine you were assuming so. One hand was firmly on your shoulder to keep you in place (as if you were ever going to move away) while the other ran your loofah over your sides. 

He turned you around, endlessly deep brown eyes meeting yours while his hand holding the loofa twitched just slightly. It was his turn to look down at your body fully, eyes raking down over your chest, your hips, and your legs. You saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed, looking back up at your eyes. 

When you gave him a nod, Eddie reached out again, working the loofah over your neck and shoulders. You tilted your head back, letting him get as much grime off you as possible before his hand moved lower, running over your breasts carefully. Eddie’s eyes darted between your chest and your face for any sign that this was too much, that he’d gone too far. But you only leaned closed to him, resting your hands on his forearms as he washed you. His hands drifted lower, not lingering too much on your breasts when getting clean was more important than the hormones that were starting to stir in both of you. 

Just like you had, his hands stopped at your hips, just above your mound. You turned him around the same way he had for you, deciding that you could also wash your own ass for the time being. 

You closed your eyes as you washed yourself, imagining a world where taking a shower with Eddie wasn’t the result of a week of trauma. Maybe he’d joke about how he’d make your tits squeaky clean and you’d respond with a joke about him dropping the soap. Maybe in another life the two of you would be blasting music and he’d be rambling about the latest song he was learning on guitar while you two swapped off who was under the hot water. 

Your bodies were clean now, Eddie taking the free moment to wash off his legs and feet while you did the same. You pulled him back around and reached up to his face with a warmed washcloth, and his hands went back to your hips. Once you were satisfied with that, you grabbed the shampoo and conditioner. 

“Sit down.” you said quietly. 

The tub was comfortable enough for one person to lay in and stretch out but it was more cramped with two. Eddie sat down and you sat behind him, working the shampoo through his hair slowly, your fingers digging into his scalp. Eddie tilted his head back and let out a moan as you massaged and scratched at his head. 

There was a small part of you that said that you shouldn’t be having a reaction to this, that you two had just gone through something terrible and this wasn’t the time to unpack those feelings. 

You told that part of your brain to shove it. 

You peered over Eddie’s shoulder as you worked the lather through his hair, and took in a deep shuddering breath as your gaze was met with his cock standing at full attention. The warmth inside of you was growing as well, made hotter by his constant groans and murmurs of enjoyment. 

You rinsed his hair, and started working the conditioner through his ends. 

“Let that sit for a bit.” you instructed and he made a noise of understanding. You quickly worked on cleaning your own hair, and as the last of the sweat, blood, and tears slid down the drain you were now faced with it being just the two of you, naked, raw, and alive. 

Eddie turned around and leaned against the back of the tub and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in as well. He pressed your back against his chest, his head resting on your shoulder. You leaned back into him, letting him hold you as the warm water washed over you both. 

Your hands reached down to his, and his fingers immediately laced with yours. Around you there was only the thick steamy air and the warmth and safety of the shower. Your fingers rubbed against his, unused to the bare skin without the heavy metal rings he wore. You wondered briefly if they were silver or pewter or some other metal. 

Something soft on your shoulder brought you back to reality, A shiver ran down your back as Eddie’s lips placed small kisses along your clean, wet skin. You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. 

The kisses stopped after a moment, and he pulled you closer until you were completely flushed against him. His cock was pressing into your back, and you felt him shift his hips to try and find a way to have you close without bothering you about his physical reaction. 

You shifted in his arms, turning around to face him. The porcelain dug into your knees, but you ignored it to look at Eddie. His eyes were wide and everything stood still. He reached for you again, placing his hand on your jaw, his thumb resting on your cheek. In return you held onto his shoulders, one hand on the side of his neck. 

It didn’t matter who moved first. It didn’t matter if his hand pulled you in or if you had leaned after you looked at his lips. All that mattered is that Eddie’s grip on you tightened and his mouth was on yours and you were pressing up against him and his hands were moving around you and-

You slipped, your knee sliding against the soaked porcelain and your body was pressed fully against his. Eddie’s hard cock was pressed against your stomach, and he jumped at the sudden accidental movement. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, sitting up a bit to check on you. 

No, you weren’t okay. And you didn’t think you’d be okay until he kissed you again. So instead of answering you kissed him again, deeper than before. He didn’t hesitate in responding to the kiss, his hands were sliding around you again, rubbing your back as your fingers tangled in his hair. 

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, meeting each other’s lips over and over again as the hot water fell on you. You’d occasionally shift and feel his cock rub against your stomach and he’d moan into your mouth in response. You liked that, and found every reason to squirm and rub against him as the two of you kissed. 

Eddie’s tongue pressed into your mouth, as easily as if the two of you had kissed a thousand times before. You moaned as he did, the taste of your toothpaste still lingering in his mouth melded with the taste of him. The moan only encouraged him to keep going, exploring your mouth and licking against a spot behind your front teeth that made you shudder. 

The water was getting cooler and it took everything inside of you to finally pull away. Eddie looked up at you with a hint of confusion on his face as to why you pulled back. 

“Did I-” he started and you shook your head. 

“Water’s getting cold. We should get out.” you said. 

He nodded and the two of you untangled from each other and helped each other stand up. You finished rinsing the last of the conditioner from Eddie’s hair before turning off the water and stepping out, grabbing you each a towel. He took it from your hand and wrapped it around your shoulders, using it as an excuse to touch you and pull you into another kiss. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck and he pushed you up against the wall, needing the closeness as much as you did. Each press of his lips was slightly different each time, as if he was trying to decide the best way to kiss you, or maybe to just have the chance to kiss you every way he could. Making up for lost time? Making up for the uncertain future? It was hard to tell. 

“I’m here.” You don’t know why you said it, but those two words slipped out of your mouth in the two seconds that Eddie had pulled away to breathe. 

He was panting, and staring intently at you, his look of surprise mirrored your own thoughts. Then his mouth was on you again, kissing you rougher, holding you tighter, his hands were grabbing at you in a near bruising grip. Eddie’s cock was rubbing against your hip now, and he groaned feeling your soft skin against him. You could feel your own wetness start to pool between your legs as you kissed back, trying to keep up with him. 

“I’m here, too.” His voice echoed back. 

Your hips rocked up against him, and up bit his lower lip, sucking on it hard. He groaned again, and grabbed at your breast, squeezing it before rubbing his thumb against your nipple. You squirmed at the touch, and all you wanted was to be closer, closer, closer. 

When Eddie pulled back, it was your turn to look confused. You were dazed from the kiss, breathless with your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Eds...?” 

“Bedroom.” He pulled himself away from you like ripping a bandaid off. You followed his lips, kissing him again and he shuddered, stumbling back towards the door and reaching blindly for the doorknob. 

With some fumbling, you both managed to stumble into your room, lips locked together. It was cooler outside of the bathroom, and you could feel goosebumps raised along his arms as you both fell back into your bed. 

You wasted no time straddling him, pushing him down by his shoulders and giving him quick rough kisses. 

“Don’t you-” you kissed him “ever” you bit his lower lip “run like that” another bruising kiss “again.”. 

“I won’t” he replied, running his hand to the back of your neck and squeezing it. “I won’t. I won’t run.” 

Before you could capture his lips again, he pulled you down by your neck and latched his mouth against your throat. Eddie wasted no time with soft kisses, immediately sucking hard on the skin and pulling the blood to the surface until a deep bruise bloomed on your neck. You cursed, and ground your hips down on his cock, feeling the length drag against your clit. 

Eddie hissed and kissed the spot lightly where he’d been sucking. His hands gripped your hips, moving his own in rhythm with yours in a desperate attempt to get friction on his leaking cock. One hand slid down to grab your thigh, squeezing the back of it in a way that made your hips shudder and sparks of pleasure shoot right to your core. 

“Fuck, Eddie.” you whispered. 

Hearing his name had him grabbing you and rolling you below him, kissing your neck more. His lips trailed up to right below your ear, breathing in deeply before moving his mouth down to your chest. 

Eddie latched onto one of your nipples and sucked hard, making you gasp and arch your back up. His hand slid down, lower and lower until it was between your legs, sliding a finger through your slit with a trembling hand. The touch to your sensitive folds made you let out a small giggle at the feeling and your hips jerked again before settling back down. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” Eddie said, talking to himself more than he was talking to you. He played with your entrance for a moment as he kissed and sucked along your breasts, sliding two fingers through your folds and stroking your clit with careful circles. 

You wanted to beg for more, roll your hips and tell him to keep going, but you couldn’t. If this was any other scenario, you would have. But when his head tilted back to look at you, all words died down in your mouth. This wasn’t something that you two could rush, not now, not after everything. This was more than just sex, more than a desperate quickie after the heat of battle. This was something you didn’t have a name for yet, but you two would figure out in time. 

Eddie leaned over you more, resting one arm by your head. His wet hair ticked your shoulders, and looking up at him, you thought about how a few hours earlier, you were on top of him like this as well, shielding him from monsters. He leaned down and kissed you again as he slid a finger into your entrance. 

Your hands gripped his shoulders, gasping into his mouth. He pumped his fingers in and out slowly, never letting your lips disconnect. Eddie was fingering you, Eddie who’d all but bullied you into joining Hellfire when you were the new kid. The same Eddie who you’d bickered and squabbled with regularly because you two loved to get on each other's nerves. The same Eddie who you’d seen cry when no one else was looking over the death of Chrissy Cunningham-

Another finger slid in carefully and this time he did pull back, looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort. Instead he found your face warmed and your lips parted in pleasure. You let out a small moan as he moved his fingers again, your nails digging into his shoulder. 

A quiet cry escaped your lips as he curled his fingers inside you, moving them back and forth until you gave him the signal that he had found the right spot. His name escaped your lips in a way he never dreamed that he’d hear. Eddie’s forehead pressed against yours again, taking in every reaction as his fingers explored your inner walls. 

His thumb brushed over your clit, stroking it in shaky and clumsy circles. As unpracticed as it was, it felt good. It felt good because it was him, and because you needed him, and when the fuck was the last time you had even had a chance to get off with everything going on?

“Eddie,” you panted as you moved your hands to his jaw. You kissed him again, and he kissed you back. His fingers sped up, pressing more into that sweet spot that was turning your brain off, removing any thoughts of the Upside Down, or of the shared trauma you now held. Right now, there was only you and Eddie and a mind-numbing pleasure that was building up inside you.

“It’s okay.” he whispered, his hand shaking a little. “Tell me what you need, please.” Eddie looked at you like getting you off was the most important thing he could do right now. You’d only seen this look in his eyes once as he’d cut the sheet rope that connected the two worlds-

“Tell me you’re here.” you begged, the words spilling out without thought. “Fuck, Eddie- just tell me you’re here. That you aren’t going- oh... oh God, please-”

“I’m here.” His voice sounded desperate, looking down at you. “I’m here, I swear. I’m not going anywhere again I- I’m so fucking sorry. I’m here, I’m here, Sweetheart.” 

It was that simple nickname that had you tumbling over the edge. That pet name that had always been reserved only for his guitar. His lips crashed onto yours as you reached your peak, swallowing your moans as your pussy clamped down around his fingers. Your body tensed up hard, and you tangled your fingers into his hair pulling at the roots. Eddie moaned at the feeling, his fingers faltering for a moment before slowing down and then finally pulling out. 

Immediately you felt empty, the orgasm not enough to satiate the need to have him as close as possible. You could still feel your pussy contracting as you came down from your orgasm, and you realized he was still talking. 

“‘M here.” Eddie whispered against your temple as he placed gentle pecks to your skin. “I’m here. I won’t leave again.” 

“I need you, Eds.” you said, looking up at him. “Fuck, I’ve needed you for so long.”

You hoped that he understood what you were saying. This was more than needing him inside you, this was about everything you two had been through together over the past few years. Every Hellfire Club meeting, every Tuesday at the Hideout, every shared joint between the two of you, every shitty study session that never went anywhere because you two would get too distracted and end up talking to each other about everything and nothing. 

You needed it, all of it, all of him. Eddie had made an indent on your life that you never wanted straightened out. You could not, and would not, conceive of a world without Eddie Munson in it. His death would have destroyed you in every possible way. 

Friendship, romance, sex, you didn’t care. If he was willing to just exist in your life, that’s all you fucking wanted. 

You didn’t even notice that you were crying again, until Eddie was wiping away your tears with his clean hand. He had a panicked look on his face as if worried that he’d done something wrong. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Did we take this too far?” he asked, grabbing a tissue from your bedside table and wiping his own hand off before offering one to you. You took it and shook your head, wiping your eyes and trying to take in a deep breath. 

“No, not that’s not it.” you said. “I just... I was so scared that I was going to lose you, Eddie. I’m still scared that when everything is done you’re going to disappear on me again.”

Eddie looked down at you, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “I thought I was doing the right thing, buying them more time.” he said quietly. “I thought if I could keep them distracted for just a few more minutes, everything would work out. If I had climbed back up, I thought- I was convinced the bats would either break in and attack you and Dustin or they’d go after the others.”

“You’re stupid.” you sniffed. 

“I know.” he agreed. 

“A total buttface jerk.” you added. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Eddie spread your legs more, putting himself into position. His cock was sliding through your folds now. 

“Y-you’re a freak and my fucking hero.” you gasped out as he pushed himself inside you carefully. Eddies cock stretched you pleasantly and easily. 

“I’m getting mixed signals here, Sweetheart.” he mumbled, kissing along your jaw. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly, and you pushed your own face against his neck, sucking your own mark against the front of his throat. You didn't care if anyone else saw, you wanted to see proof of this night on him. 

You wanted proof on him every night for the rest of your life. 

“I'm never running away again.” he groaned in your ear as his hips started moving. Eddie held you tighter, nearly suffocating you as he did. How many times had he hugged you like this before, with you laughing and pushing him away, only for him to squeeze you harder telling you that your Strength stat sucked? 

“I'll find you.” You whispered in his ear as he grabbed your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his hips. “I'll find you every time, I fucking promise.”

He moaned loudly, his hips pushing harder into yours. Eddie was as deep inside you as he could possibly be, and each drag of his cock inside you made every nerve light up in your body. 

“Why did you come after me?” Eddie's voice was a near growl. His voice was strained, as if asking that question would snap the connection between the two of you. His lips never left your skin, kissing every inch that he could reach on your neck and face. 

“I couldn't let you- ohh oh God... I couldn't let you go. Couldn't let you disappear again” your body shuddered under him as his angle shifted slightly, just enough that it was rubbing up against that spot again that made it hard to think. 

“You could have died too.” Eddie's voice rattled around your head, frustration dripping from his lips as he sank his teeth into your shoulder. You cried out, dragging your nails down his spine in return, leaving raised marks down his back. 

He hissed and smashed his lips to your again, biting at your lower lip and sucking hard. Eddie looked at you, frustration now in his eyes as he looked down at you. 

It seemed like you weren't the only one processing your emotions through sex. 

“You could have died too.” He repeated. One hand went to the back of your neck, his thumb pressing right below your ear. You met his eyes, suddenly feeling small under him. 

Eddie had only ever looked at you like this once before. You two had a blow up fight the night that Chrissy had been murdered. You'd been so fucking mad at him for not moving Hellfire, having missed that whole conversation as you had a different lunch period. 

You hadn't learned about it until Erica Sinclair had walked in with Mike and Dustin. You'd swallowed the fight until after the campaign, when everyone was celebrating and Eddie was sneaking towards the back of the gym. 

It hadn't been pretty. You two had yelled at each other, called each other every name in the book. You were furious that he'd abandoned a party member and wouldn't budge. 

Eddie had hated that you were the only one to really stand up to him, to call him out for refusing to budge this one time. His brown eyes had turned black as you said things that didn't even fucking matter anymore. 

You saw him leave pissed with Chrissy Cunningham. You wondered if anyone else saw you two fighting that night which would have made him look worse when the cheerleader showed up dead in his trailer. 

Another moan passed your lips and your eyes closed as he started thrusting faster inside you. His hand on your neck tightening and loosening rhythmically, the blood running to your head and cutting off over and over again. 

“I can't lose you either.” He panted, kissing you again in a way that you were sure was going to screw you up forever. “You think I wanted to watch you die, too?” He demanded. 

“Eddie, I-” you didn't know what to say, all you could do was lay there as he mercilessly pushed into you, watching as the anger turned to anguish as he leaned over you. 

“Look at me,” he said, his voice low and firm. The same subtle husky voice he used when he ran his game, the same voice he'd conditioned you to listen to over the past year. 

You nearly came again right there.  

Eddie’s warm brown eyes bore into yours and you didn't look away, even as his pace hit that perfect stride that had your toes curl and made your eyes want to roll back.  

“If I can't run away, you can throw yourself into danger.” He said. “I'm not losing you either.”

“Not gonna lose me-” you panted. “Fuck Eddie, I just-” your back arched as his lips sucked another bruise into your shoulder. “Don't put yourself in danger again and I won't have to.”

“We’re never doing that again.” he grunted into your shoulder. “No more monsters, no more fucking spellcasters, no bullshit alternate dimensions.” His hands were everywhere, as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted or needed to grab you. “Gonna get us as far away from this shithole town as possible.”

Us. 

That word echoed through your brain. Us. That meant there was something more here, a future. A future with Eddie that he wanted you to be a part of. 

You kissed him again, and any more words between you died down as it didn’t mean anything anymore. The Upside Down, the future, none of it. Eddie’s hand finally made its way down to your clit again and stroked it fast. You tangled your fingers into his hair and pulled at the roots, his hips were starting to falter with their thrusts. Each push making your brain grow hazy as the pleasure continued to build inside you. 

Eddie pulled away from the kiss, pressing his lips against your ear again instead. “I’m here.” he promised. “Fuck, right- I’m right here.”

“I’m here, too” you repeated, your own voice breathy and desperate. “Eddie, I-” 

“I love you.” 

Those three words from his lips, had you seeing white. The whole world stopped and your body tensed up. Your nails sank into his back, and if you had been in a more clear state of mind you would have noticed you’d accidentally drawn blood. You cried out, unsure if you had managed to say those words back at all until the orgasm had started to subside. You felt dizzy, lightheaded and you breathed out the air that you had been hoarding in  your lungs. 

Eddie was staring at you with wide doe eyes, lips parted slightly in surprise. His hips were rocking slower now, as if unsure if he should continue after having apparently shattered your mind.

“I... love you, too.” you managed to gasp out, meeting his gaze. That was enough for Eddie as he picked his pace back up, rougher than before. He pressed his lips against your neck, breathing you in completely, listening to your overstimulated cries of pleasure as he pushed faster into you. 

It didn’t take long before he was cumming too, his hips jerking and shaking as he finally slowed down his thrusts. His weight was fully on top of you now as he started to soften inside you. 

You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that, with him laying on you and with you stroking his back and matching his breaths. Maybe the two of you dozed off a few times, trying to savor the moment of peace between the two of you. 

Eddie was the one to break the silence with a chuckle. 

“What’s so funny, Eddie?” you asked, your eyes still closed. 

“We’re gonna need another shower after that.” he replied, slowly getting up off you. It was cold without his warmth and you whined at the loss. 

“Sounds like a tomorrow problem.” you mumbled, looking up at him. His curly hair was frizzing badly in its half-dried state. But he still got up and went to the bathroom, you heard the sound of running water and the a toilet flushing before he came back with a towel to clean help clean you up. 

“Did you mean what you said?” you asked quietly, as he settled back into bed with you, the two of  you getting over the sheets. 

Eddie nodded, looking at your blankets before meeting your gaze. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good.” you said and gave him a reassuring smile. “Because I don’t want to fight anymore monsters either again.” 

“Wait that’s-” Eddie stopped and laughed, shaking his head. “You know what I meant.”

“I know.”

“Did you mean it?” He asked. 

“Yeah. I meant it.” you reassured him. 

“Say it again?” he asked, cupping your jaw again. “I want to know it wasn’t just my amazing dick making you say it.”

You laughed. It felt so fucking good to laugh with him again. Had there been any doubt about your feelings for him, that would have sealed it. 

“Eddie Munson, I love you.” you said, looking into his eyes. “And if you ever do something stupid like that again, I’m going to be the one to kill you personally.”

“I love you, too.” he said, and for the first time in a week, his eyes were clear. There was no haunted look in his eyes, no anger, no frustration. For this brief night before reality came back the two of you could just exist with each other. Neither of you knew what was going to happen after this evening, but you knew in your gut that the two of you were going to get through this together. 

----

Please comment and reblog <3

Alternative title: Use Your Tears As Lube

If you cried you have to legally tell me. I'm keeping count.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #nacht fic

[astonmartinii]

honey, honey [mamma mia part three] | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso & jenson button

mamma mia | no more ace to play | masterlist | tips

yourusername

liked by jensonbutton, charles_leclerc and 1,098,455 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel & jensonbutton

yourusername: little chick is finally showing and these old men are still obsessed with cars even though i'm RIGHT THERE !!

view all comments

user1: oh to be the one receiving those photos of fernando

user2: yeah yeah they're having a kid BUT the sheer amount of seb + fernando + jenson content we're gonna get

fernandoalo_oficial: so you go to goodwood with them but don't come to my race :(

yourusername: babe they outnumbered you but we'll be there in canada !!

jensonbutton: sorry some of us didn't choose to be a fossil in an f1 car. just hurry up and retire

yourusername: woah woah, let nando have his lil hobby

fernandoalo_oficial: y/n tell him he can't call me old

yourusername: jenson, fernando isn't a fossil, you know we prefer the term precious artefact, please apologise

jensonbutton: i'm sorry???

user3: omg this is going so fast

danielricciardo: ahhhh y/n is showing !! this is so exciting

sebastianvettel: chickie is the size of a lemon i think

danielricciardo: and you'll all be in canada?

yourusername: yes! i can't wait to meet all of you

danielricciardo: *can't wait to meet chickie's god father

fernandoalo_oficial: daniel you know we haven't decided that yet

jensonbutton: also i've partied with you, why do you think i'd trust you with my kid?

danielricciardo: ummm every child is entitled to a fun uncle ??

user4: i am once again stating how fucking obsessed i am with this set up

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, jensonbutton and 1,298,450 others

yourusername: my personal favourite snippets of the god father applications. not sure it really made me trust any of them any more than before.

view all comments

user5: i was not expecting to actually see the applications but they defo didn't disappoint

maxverstappen1: ummmmm @charles_leclerc what do you mean? you are the instigator YOU pushed me into that puddle

charles_leclerc: it's okay max get it out (@sebastianvettel @fernandoalo_oficial @jensonbutton see how i am able to de- escalate this situation)

maxverstappen1: try and de-escalate this foot up your literal ass

charles_leclerc: i will put you in time out (i.e. watch your ass going into turn one)

yourusername: you guys realise this is not helping the application right?

maxverstappen1: nuh uh who wouldn't want a world champion as a god father

charles_leclerc: low blow verstappen

yourusername: girlies chickie has dads with seven championships between them so i really don't think she'll be impressed by two

user6: i'm sorry but roscoe hamilton as the reference is killing me

user7: full government name and everything

sebastianvettel: you guys laughed at me but this has amused me to no end

yourusername: you're a genius and i love you for this

user8: L BOMB?

jensonbutton: i take back calling the idea dumb, you were right :(

sebastianvettel: oh how the tables have turned

fernandoalo_oficial: can we all just agree that we never thought those dumbasses would actually fill one in?

yourusername: it makes me even more excited to meet them

jensonbutton: trust me the charm wears off real quick

user9: the way kimi wrote nothing and will probably end up being the god father anyway

jensonbutton

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, alexalbon and 832,087 others

tagged: yourusername

jensonbutton: best thing about pregnancy cravings is i have an excuse to use seb's insane car collection and brush up on my french

view all comments

user13: on dad duty with the dad angle he's ready

user14: honestly my heart is so warm over the fact that they've all embraced the situation

user15: girl we saw jenson and nando at mclaren together ... it's been coming

user16: oh and that one podium with jenson and seb they just need a girl they all liked to get their shit together and that's the most them thing ever

sebastianvettel: a man goes to one meeting and suddenly julie is being taken on grocery runs

jensonbutton: y/n wanted bagels so ?

sebastianvettel: i know we're having an actual kid but be careful with my mechanical kids as well

jensonbutton: do you forget i'm literally a driver too honey

yourusername: thanks for the bagel baby bagel dates 4 ever

fernandoalo_oficial: cream cheese and salmon WITHOUT ME?

yourusername: we put it in the fridge for when you get home :(

fernandoalo_oficial: awwwww really ???

yourusername: we love you (but also you can't eat soft cheese or raw fish while pregnant)

fernandoalo_oficial: it's the thought that counts?

user17: god this looks like domestic bliss, how does one come about three men to have a kid with in the swiss mountains?

yourusername: honestly i'm so lucky

sebastianvettel: we're luckier

jensonbutton: we're luckier

fernandoalo_oficial: we're luckier

yourusername: fucking hormones are making me ball my eyes out

f1

liked by estebanocon, yourusername and 1,239,086 others

f1: category is ... baby presents !! y/n y/ln made her paddock debut with sebastian vettel and jenson button to support fernando alonso 💚

view all comments

user21: omg seb in his aston martin gear to support nando

user22: imagine showing this to someone in 2010 i think they would have a heart attack

danielricciardo: i had the best present ever god father is in the bag

charles_leclerc: i read your application there's no way, plus seb loves ferrari so my gift will be the best

mickschumacher: lets be real my application was the best

estebanocon: eh i think kimi's was the best

mickschumacher: he literally wrote nothing ????

estebanocon: and yet he outdid all of yall... embarrassing for some

user23: i feel like this fight to be god father is gonna end with a fist fight in the parking lot

yourusername: and i'll be there with my popcorn

sebastianvettel: maybe let's not encourage fighting

yourusername: why not, these squabbles over being in charge if all FOUR of chickie's parents die are the most entertaining thing in the world to me

jensonbutton: lets halt it on the fighting and dying talk okay (i will also be front row to watch these morons fight)

maxverstappen1: if it's a fist fight clear win for me imo

fernandoalo_oficial: how did we get here (i will referee)

danielricciardo: respectfully maxy, i will beat your ass

maxverstappen1: NUH UH

kimiraikkonen: i'm winning no question

sebastianvettel: now that i agree with

yourusername: i thought you were against fighting?

sebastianvettel: i guess it would be kind of funny (especially because any physical violence is an immediate red flag)

user24: okay but can someone actually let us know who got what cause i know these men probably got the dumbest shit that can never actually be used by a child

user25: there's a thread on twitter!

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 934,045 others

fernandoalo_oficial: old man still got it 👍 thank you to the team for your help, needed to impress y/n with my day job x

view all comments

user27: impending fatherhood got nando looking like he can make it an eight championship house

sebastianvettel: @yourusername he's good but i was better

jensonbutton: @yourusername and i was even better x

fernandoalo_oficial: ummm this is literally my post about MY podium?

sebastianvettel: i would've won but that's just me 😬

fernandoalo_oficial: 2013 called and it wants your attitude back 🤨

jensonbutton: it's been ten years guys... (i would've also won)

sebastianvettel: well my trophy cabinet is the fullest so chickie will know who was the best by that :)

yourusername: the sexual tension is killing me, how did yall not shag back in 2010?

jensonbutton: too busy winning and being sluts elsewhere x

maxverstappen1: yall claim you would've won? yall wouldn't get close to me sorry not sorry

sebastianvettel: oh look who's out of the running for god father

maxverstappen1: NO I TAKE IT BACK

yourusername: don't worry maxy, he's joking the bee keeping suit went down VERY WELL

charles_leclerc: he's such a cheat i didn't even know they existed :(

maxverstappen1: you snooze you loose

yourusername: @charles_leclerc i'm craving pasta, i heard it's good in the ferrari hospitality

charles_leclerc: on it 🫡

fernandoalo_oficial: so is no one going to congratulate me?

yourusername: CONGRATS BUB! turns out you ARE great at your day job (and very sexy drenched in champagne)

sebastianvettel: i agree

jensonbutton: i agree

yourusername: once again how did yall make it through the 2010s

user28: i'm trying not to be weird about this but i know their sex life must be crazy

yourusername

liked by jensonbutton, danielricciardo and 1,403,677 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername: baby's first f1 weekend and daddy nando did not disappoint (neither did the grid, yall are so generous thank you)

view all comments

user29: i am so unwell this is all so cute i might die

fernandoalo_oficial: i would get any shit box on the podium for you guys

yourusername: NO BRAKES! NO TYRES! OUT OF THE POINTS!

jensonbutton: babe that was over five years ago...

yourusername: ummmm i'm doing my research on your careers? i'd never watched f1 i needed to catch up

sebastianvettel: who showed you this?

yourusername: oscar and lando said they'd give me a quick fire history lesson

fernandoalo_oficial: @oscarpiastri @landonorris i've won 32 races and you show y/n that?

landonorris: funny?

oscarpiastri: we also showed her multi 21, sorry not sorry seb

sebastianvettel: not my four championships?

oscarpiastri: justice for my manager

user30: obsessed with how y/n can watch old races and most of the time one of her bfs win 😭

alexalbon: so great to finally meet you! the albon pets hope it's a girl!

yourusername: don't tell them i told you this but me too

jensonbutton: we can literally all see this?

yourusername: you guys would be such girl dads lets be real

user31: potential girl dad seb, jenson and fernando DO NOT THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME

user32: do NOT let seb name them he's already used all of the good bond girl names

sebastianvettel: i'll have you know kinky kylie is a top tier name

yourusername: for a car. do not suggest any names affiliated with any spy films

sebastianvettel

liked by astonmartinf1, mickschumacher and 1,459,832 others

tagged: yourusername, jensonbutton & fernandoalo_oficial

sebastianvettel: thought i'd have a quiet life after retirement, i thought wrong

view all comments

user33: the BEAR ???

user34: what if i die so i can be reincarnated as the f1 baby

jensonbutton: always arguing over who is the best driver but yet i am always designated driver ... makes you think

sebastianvettel: you're the one who pulls the "i'm the oldest" card ... makes you think

fernandoalo_oficial: only one of us is still racing ... makes you think

yourusername: someone is waiting to go to bed but some people are arguing in the comment section ... makes you think

user35: this kid is going to have the most entertaining childhood ever...

yourusername: @fernandoalo_oficial retire so you can join the crochet club

fernandoalo_oficial: no can do i need to bring home the bacon (and beat lewis)

lewishamilton: why am i catching strays? can i join the crochet club instead of fernando?

yourusername: it's strictly bring your own yarn and real housewives only

lewishamilton: make it beverly hills and i'm there

fernandoalo_oficial: ummmmm ??? @mercedesamgf1 ur driver is retiring you heard it hear first

yourusername: you guys gonna beef over crochet as well?

fernandoalo_oficial: yes.

lewishamilton: yes.

jensonbutton: okay nando you're the only one we're waiting for, we're debating god fathers

fernandoalo_oficial: one sec my pr team called me, turns out you can't make up a rumour that lewis hamilton is retiring, who knew?

maxverstappen1: VOTE FOR ME PLEASE

charles_leclerc: you've won enough this season, let me have this one

mickschumacher: i'll bring breakfast in the morning for three votes at least

yourusername: do NOT try and bribe the jury.

note: PART THREE! okay so it's finally here and i hope it's what you guys were looking for... the race for god father is heating up and the name arguments are only just starting... i am enjoying the pregnancy content but i'm excited for baby time !!!

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @minkyungseokie @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa @tagteamedbitch @imagandom @mypage-myfandoms @mehrmonga @asparklysoul @unstableplant @motorsp0rt @multilovebot @lili-flower03 @its-elias-world @jolixtreesunn @nothingfuninthislife @rileynicol3 @kodzuvk @mochimommy2002 @fluffyspaceprincess @roseseraj @black-swan-blog27 @nyrasslut @justdreamersdream @asfaraslifegets @why4anne @ineffableperson @leilanixx @lunyyx @pupbistro @gaypoetsblog @rafaaoli @champomiel @sadsierra2 @rainerax @lokietro

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #sebastian vettel instagram au #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #fernando alonso instagram au #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #fernando alonso imagine #jenson button instagram au #jenson button x reader #jenson button imagine #mamma mia au #astonmartinii

[allyricas]

there's just something so delicious about friends-to enemies-to lovers

barely teenage steve and eddie who have a devastating end to what they both thought would be a forever friendship. maybe it's a misunderstanding or maybe it's just teenage angst that felt impossible to fix in the moment.

but i am feral over the idea that the only reason steve ever became 'king steve' strutting around with tommy and carol with his aloof, semi-mean girl attitude was because of the falling out with eddie. that he did it so he didn't feel so much hurt over it. still has no idea what he did to make eddie suddenly hate him.

same with eddie. he definitely liked metal and nerdy shit all along, but maybe he only leaned into the whole 'forced conformity, it's what's killing the kids' freak persona to guard himself. as armor. because he fucking misses steve as much as he hates him. so he glares and makes snarky comments. finds his solace in DnD and his band.

they fight with words and shoulder shoves in the hallway. each of them too proud to ever talk it out and fix things. to the point that their peers don't remember that steve and eddie used to be inseparable. everyone but steve and eddie forget the obvious affection and closeness they once shared.

it takes a bunch of freshmen to put them back into each other's orbit.

it takes the upside down, a dead cheerleader and an evil wizard for them to actually get along again.

because steve is meant to hate eddie but the moment he sees the trailer and hears the word 'murder' he feels like he might throw up.

Please, god, not eddie.

only to find out he supposedly murdered chrissy cunningham. despite all the animosity between the two of them, steve knows in his soul that eddie would never kill anyone.

even when he's against a wall with sharp glass pressed to his neck, heart racing as he looks into the eyes he tries not to think about, steve knows that eddie won't actually hurt him.

steve has the urge to stay with eddie at the lake house and make sure nothing else happens to him. instead, he stops forcing himself to be an asshole towards eddie. it's exhausting and he's never truly meant it anyways. the upside-down shit is threatening the one person he hoped would never be a part of it.

it takes eddie watching steve get pulled under lover's lake and attacked by demon bats to realize that the biggest misunderstanding was of his own thirteen year old self's feelings. that he could've lost steve and he'd have never even told him the truth of why he let their friendship implode over such a ridiculous misunderstanding.

that he wanted more than friendship and that scared the hell out of him at thirteen.

he sees steve bleeding and throwing himself into danger over and over. realizes that yeah, steve harrington is a good guy. his own personal munson doctrine is fundamentally flawed and untrustworthy and he's in love with this stupidly brave man, maybe since forever.

make him pay means i'm sorry, i love you, please be safe, come back.

it takes eddie nearly dying and his steve carrying him out of hell for eddie to realize that steve never hated him either. that what eddie always views as aloofness and superiority was hurt and steve trying to deal. regardless of whatever lays in the past, steve holds him together with his hands and begs eddie to stay. whispers that he loves him, always has loved him, always will love him.

eddie thinks about all the years they lost due to teenage angst and fear. fights to keep his eyes open and stay, because steve his sobbing and begging him not to go.

and when eddie finally wakes up in the hospital, it's steve and uncle wayne next to him. steve won't leave his side, maybe ever again. neither of them with any desire to ever look at each other with anything but love.

#steddie #friends to enemies to lovers #friends to enemies #enemies to lovers #feeling mildly angsty but still a sucker for a HEA #angst

[jiminrings]

pink sapphire

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 11k

glimpse: having jungkook for a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; he's easy to love. your relationship's perhaps become so easy that jungkook doesn't think sometimes — and that's what makes it the easiest for you to hate him.

alternatively, you and jungkook married each other for business, but the both of you stay for love.

[ angst, arranged marriage au, fluff n really wholesome scenes (it cancels out the angst i swear), Jungkook Tries Hard (affectionate), miscommunication, jealousy, self-deprecation, sexual innuendos (no actual smut here!!), did i already say that jungkook tries rlly hard and is remorseful the whole time ]

notes: my year-ender fic for 2022 :) thank u for being here — i'm grateful for all ur love n support!! i'll see u in the next one <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook’s a vocal person.

Your husband does not leave a single thought unspoken, sometimes his thinkpieces too impulsive that when he says them in public, you try to play it off by either distancing yourself with him or from him.

“I think the world would be just fine even if all the bees disappear,” Jungkook once said to you with conviction, midway into chewing his cheeseburger. “There’s articles about it proving otherwise but they’re too long for my attention span, but yeah, I don’t think it would be that bad, y’know?” he giggles, looking up at the ceiling in serious thought. “If anything, the Bee Movie taught us that-…” 

Jungkook yelps automatically when you pinch his thigh, your hand sternly gripping his knee like both your reputations depended on it (they really did). “Jungkook, we’re literally in a climate change gala right now.”

“I don’t think coffee’s ever that serious. Seriously, world barista championships? New techniques in supposedly making the best cup of coffee when you’re all just gonna shit it ten minutes later? It’s not that deep,” Jungkook once whispered to you in urgency, his annoyance through the roof. He’s glued to your side, intent on whispering all about his irritation.

“Jungkook, I’m begging you,” you wince, screwing your eyes shut and slowly moving the two of you to the far end of the room. “We were literally right next to your uncle whose new wife is the organizer for that very championship you’re shitting on.”

“We need to talk about the tote bag epidemic,” Jungkook once whisper-yelled to you in a rush, holding you by the arm because he just can’t contain his inner thoughts any longer. You’re thankful, sure, that you’re your husband’s go-to person for all of his random thoughts; it’s just that he picks the worst settings to tell them to you.“They look kinda tacky, everybody deludes themselves that they’re functional even if they have zero pockets, and-…”

“And you just offended atleast three different age groups and all of them are in this café. We need to leave.”

Jungkook’s endearing this way, raw and a tad bit annoying. He’s expressive as much as he’s vocal, his hand slotted on your waist like second nature to him. Being married to him isn’t bad. Sure, the circumstances of your union in the first place were for business anyway, but the both of you understood and agreed at the end of the day. By all means, he’s ideal — ideal until he opens his mouth when he’s sleeping.

If there’s anything that your two years of marriage (and counting) to Jungkook makes you realize, it’s that you should value your peace and sanity more than anything.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Jungkook groggily asks you with one eye open, conveniently seeing you in the act of hovering around him with an ominous object in your hand. Maybe it’s the sleep in his eyes or the fog in his brain, but when you look at him like this– bothered and passionately frustrated, it makes him love you even more.

“No,” you mutter, the snoring mouth strip in your hands just begging to be put on already. “I’m trying to make you quiet.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Perhaps it’s the sleep in your eyes or the fog in your brain, but you swear you just saw your husband crack a smirk despite keeping you up multiple nights a week, especially for the past month. He’s not endearing tonight, not at all.

“Isn’t marriage all about accepting each other’s flaws?” Jungkook frowns, about to turn on his side when you put your knee to block him.

“We’re arranged,” you deadpan. “I can’t accept you snoring with bass and reverb every night, Jungkook. I can barely sleep.”

“But didn’t you tell me you like it when I make noises?” Jungkook glares playfully. Bringing up your sex life with him out of the blue almost always does the trick, but it probably won’t work tonight now that you’re only awake and breathing heavily from sheer annoyance. “That you adore me whenever I tell you how much I love it?”

“Jungkook,” you hiss, tempted to flick him on the forehead in his sleep repeatedly so he’ll wake up with a mark. “Will you let me put the snoring strip on you or do we divorce?”

“Divorce,” he sighs out, a pinch instantly placed on his thigh that makes him jolt and squeak anyway. Jungkook whines, correcting himself when your hand hovers his chest this time. “Divorcing is bad!”

“Mhmm. Good night, Kook.”

You vibrate just by the prospect of sleeping peacefully tonight without the walls in the house being shaken up by your husband’s snores, tucking yourself in with an exhale that could last for minutes.

“Mmh-hmm!”

Jungkook could only pathetically whine through the mouth strip, resigning to his fate as he just spoons you from behind and huffs.

“What’s that? You want to wear snoring strips every night?” you chuckle, going to sleep with a smile. “What a nice husband.”

( ♡ )

Every now and then, you and Jungkook have to take a refresher course on each other’s businesses. The both of you know a lot already, constant conversations about which meetings happened where and reminders for events that the other will clear up their schedule for.

There’s already the concern and the general knowledge — it’s just all in the technicalities (even the simplest ones) that the two of you are lacking on.

“Is this a mock neck or a crewneck?” Jungkook holds up a shirt that’s yet to be released, eyebrows raised as if waiting for you to mess up. Come to think of it, you have to know now because his family’s holding company had acquired yet another brand and there’ll be a televised event for it — and some reporters ask the stupidest questions to date. You can’t be the weakest link.

“I wanna say neither,” you clear your throat, biting your bottom lip in confusion. It’s a shirt with a collar and that’s the only thing that matters. You know there’s a name for it and there’s a possibility that the choices Jungkook gave you were all bluffs.

Your answer definitely seems to pique both Jungkook’s interest and amusement, resisting the urge to laugh.

“Elaborate.”

“It’s neither of the two. It’s uhm, in the middle?” you tilt your head, only praying that you could bullshit your explanation to your husband, the very person that created the garment. “It’s an all-new neckline created by Jeon Jungkook because that’s what his label is all about.”

Flattering, but really wrong.

“Cool,” he snickers, nodding to himself before he tosses it for you to catch. “It’s a crewneck though.”

“What? Then why did you make me elaborate?” you complain, scoffing to yourself because you know you should’ve went with that answer. Crewnecks should be easy enough to answer but for some reason (read: you stayed up last night watching new-money elitist reality shows instead of studying), you couldn’t answer.

“To see how good you can run away with your answer, duh.”

“And did I run away with it?”

“You ran away with it for like, four meters,” Jungkook commends you, the distance not all that bad in hindsight, atleast until he opens his mouth again. “There’s a hundred meters in total.”

Trivial things like quiz night on each other’s professions remind you that Jungkook’s nice to be with. Banter flows easily and he’s just so charming that so far, you haven’t deeply regretted a single day out of the two years you’ve been married.

You may not be able to name all the different fabrics, silhouettes, and techniques behind Jungkook’s very own streetwear brand, but you know that he likes being held when he’s asleep; that when he taps your thigh groggily after waking up in the middle of the night, it’s him very kindly asking you to rub circles on his back until he falls asleep.

“Okay, my turn!”

Your glass table almost shakes in excitement when you retrieve your sketches, making your husband all the more nervous because you look genuinely excited and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. He doesn’t have the room for error — your family’s jewelry brand turns 100 years old since the opening of its first shop and the event will be widely attended by everyone from all industries. Who’s to say that your eccentric grandfather won’t suddenly host a quizbee all about their craft?

You flash the paper quickly and your husband sighs in relief, grinning in confidence.

“Emerald cut, easy!” 

The confidence is quickly washed out from Jungkook because you snort, putting the paper down.

“It’s an octagon cut.”

“No it’s not,” he immediately retorts in disbelief, squinting at the sketch you’ve set down already.

“I sketched these,” you narrow your eyes. You forgot just how quick Jungkook can keep himself in denial. “Emerald cuts have more depth to them.

He succumbs just as quickly as he turned stubborn though, rolling his eyes with the internal reminder to touch up on his jewelry knowledge because your event comes before his.

“Fine, sue me for thinking your drawings have depth and dynamic to them.”

“You’re buttering me up.”

“Is it working?” Jungkook blinks owlishly, proud of himself when he sees the corner of your lips twitching. He holds his arm out to sling across your waist out of instinct, pleased in pink when you lean into him.

“Barely.”

Jungkook frowns, nosing into your hair with a huff. “Look who’s talking. You made up an all-new neckline by yourself.”

“Shh,” you hum. “Let me get away with it.”

These moments of domesticity are what remind you that Jungkook’s never been less than ideal for you. That despite being in the same social circle as kids and only starting off as friends, you weren’t hesitant when both your grandparents suggested the idea of getting the two of you married.

In trivial and domestic moments like these, you think that you would’ve wanted to marry Jungkook even if you weren’t arranged.

“I let you get away with a lot of things,” he playfully huffs, resting his chin on your shoulder intentionally heavy to get you to cave deeper into his embrace.

“Because I barely wrong you!” you reason, rolling your eyes because you know for a fact that although you’re not a perfect wife, you’re beyond ideal.

“I know,” Jungkook rolls his eyes this time, the truth undeniable. You’re right; you’re so perfect for him that sometimes, he thinks he doesn’t deserve you.  “How about me? Will you let me get away with a lot of things?”

“I already have,” you sing-song, narrowing your eyes playfully as if in deep warning. “But I won’t always do.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook first realized that you loved him when he missed a single step on the staircase and tumbled a whole flight.

It was 3 AM then, the reason behind his sudden trip downstairs being the fever you developed overnight when you had just gotten home from a ski trip. He had put a wet towel in the freezer in the afternoon and he was supposed to put it on you before you went to sleep. Jungkook must’ve beat himself up for forgetting because he wakes up with a cold sweat, determined to put that frozen towel on you like his life depended on it.

Jungkook thought he was doing well by the way he could navigate clearly even with the sleep in his system, eyes still half-lidded and brain still half-working that he decides to rip out the largest yawn to man mid-step on the staircase — before he knows it, he’s woken up immediately to the bottom of it.

“Jungkook!” you yelled to him then in a panic, eyes wide and frantic to see him at the bottom of the stairs with a sheepish smile. Jungkook knew then that seeing you with a head-splitting migraine visible on your pale lips and fatigued eyes, scooping him up on your arms with nothing but scolding and fussing on rotation — he knew that you loved him more than you let on.

You know Jungkook loves you. So when the bed dips and your arms grow cold despite swearing up and down that the both of you have a free day today, you doubt for a second.

“What are you doing up so early?” you mutter, stifling a yawn to see Jungkook up without a complaint.

“Breakfast with my parents. My crazy aunt suddenly came over and they need backup,” Jungkook answers with a pained laugh, cussing himself for being such a filial son. “Don’t worry, I know you hate her plus you were up all night yesterday so I just told them you can’t come because you’re under the weather.”

You’re put at ease to hear him, sighing a breath of relief — good, Jungkook still loves you and doesn’t plan to leave you. It’s just an inkling you’ve had the last few weeks, the daunting realization that in a couple months’ time, it’ll be three years of marriage with him.

It’s the impulsive, less rational part of your brain that thinks Jungkook’s growing bored of you, confused of how he’s been perfectly content being your husband for almost three whole years. 

You go with Jungkook all the way through downstairs, your playful teasing towards him about never yawning again on the steps giving him more amusement (and embarrassment) than necessary.

“Kook?” you question with a furrow in your brow, pointing at the dish that’s occupied still. “You forgot the car keys.”

“Oh. I’m not taking the car,” he smiles, shrugging to emphasize the jacket that he intentionally wore. You missed the detail somehow, the surprise in your voice more evident.

“You’re taking your motorbike?”

“Mhmm!” Jungkook hums pleasantly, the background music in his brain going from calm elevator music to rising bass rift. He’s just about to bid you goodbye with a kiss after he wears his gloves but he’s stopped even before he could come near. You’ve already read his mind.

Your husband knows it when you put your arms across your chest, nodding towards the cabinet with a tone that leaves no room for counterarguments.

“Go wear your full gear.”

“But the breakfast place isn’t even that far,” Jungkook whines, head tilting back. His gear was literally hot, protecting him from sunlight yet physically making him boil inside. 

“I want you in one piece.”

“You want me?” Jungkook cheekily grins, eyebrows wagging incessantly with his arms outstretched. That’s it! If he could just act cuter and be a little more-

“Go wear your gear.”

“I look goofy,” he mutters, eyes downcast. The longer he goes without blinking, the faster he knows that he’s going to stick to your words.

“You look safe,” you smile in success when you put his helmet on, securing it extra tightly that draws a whine from him.

Jungkook frowns but he knows that you’re right as always, a relieved sigh coursing throughout his whole body because who knew where he’d end up without you.

“Ride safe, Jungkook. I mean it. Don’t pull any tricks,” you glare pointedly at him, recounting all of the near misses he had from wanting to be adventurous, be it a trip downstairs to the refrigerator or in the middle of a main thoroughfare.

“I promise not to pull a wheelie on the highway, yes,” Jungkook mockingly salutes you, drawing out a faux disappointed sigh from you.

“You’re forgetting something.”

Was he really? Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion, smacking his lips when he seems to get the gist of it. He walks towards you, puckering his lips to the max because he doesn’t want to headbutt you with a solid helmet for just a smooch, landing a gentle kiss on your cheek. 

You appreciate it, but Jungkook’s not quite right.

“No, not that.”

“What?” he seems taken aback, suddenly realizing. “Oh!” he giggles, raising up his right hand in a pledge. “I promise to text you when I get there.”

“Good.”

You have to put more strength to drag Jungkook by the helmet, angling your head to the side to kiss so he doesn’t knock you in the forehead with the extremely safe (and extremely bulky) helmet you got him.

Jungkook smiles in contentment, clearing his throat as he revs his engine. It’s all good then. He had become worried in silence because your three years of marriage were approaching and got scared because what if you grew bored of him already?

Jungkook worries that he’ll mess things up with you one day, but with the way he can see you waving at him frantically on his side mirror when he just left, it’s okay. 

He knows you still love him.

( ♡ )

Hoseok’s your most talented and trusted metalsmith.

His work ethic’s unparalleled, your vision only coming into fruition through his support and skill. He’s indispensable to you, your place in the direction of your family’s business cemented by Hoseok’s aid.

Hoseok as both an artist and your employee is different from Hoseok as your friend. Both are cunning but the latter is more ruthless, the lines being blurred every now and then. He loves his job, don’t get him twisted at all — in fact, he trusts you as a boss and the company beyond comprehension that he doesn’t bear any tact for anyone who threatens either.

Not even for Jungkook.

“A collab, huh?” Hoseok squints, looking through the portfolio you’ve handed him. There’s already projected numbers that your analysts have predicted for you but he pays the papers no mind. He clicks his tongue, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. “A streetwear brand wants a limited-edition collection with us?”

Jungkook clears his throat, timidly raising his hand. He’s always known that Hoseok’s standoffish to literally everyone except you, but what he can’t take is being talked about like he isn’t in the same room.

“Uhm, I’m Y/N’s husband.”

“Well you’re the owner of that streetwear brand, aren’t you?” Hoseok raises a brow at him, tilting his head. He looks drastically bored, his tongue poking his cheek.

Jungkook blinks, not exactly knowing where this was going but he doesn’t like it one bit. “Yes, but I’m also her husband.”

“Okay?” Hoseok tilts his head, eyes already exhausted from the conversation. You know that look on him, the one that tells you he’s bored to death and is itching to shut up the nearest person to him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Jungkook rarely gets flustered by anyone else besides you and this time, it’s the bad kind. The embarrassment he gets from just conversing with Hoseok makes him feel like he’s an inconvenience, unease settling into his stomach. Jungkook wishes he couldn’t be so perceptive to know that despite Hoseok’s eyes normally being unreadable, his gaze now on his sketches can be read as underwhelmed.

“Well I-I mean, I’m hearing a lot of us and it sounds like you and Y/N, not me and Y/N,” he licks his lips, recognizing the insecurity that sticks to his tone like honey. Not only does he feel insulted as an artist, he also feels insufficient as a husband.

“That is what I’m saying though,” Hoseok trails off, hand vaguely gesturing for Jungkook to fill in the rest of the blanks. When he doesn’t, Hoseok does it for him. “It’s me and Y/N seeing this brand through. Not you and her.”

Jungkook blinks once, twice.

Hoseok isn’t wrong. No matter how much pain it brings Jungkook to admit it, Hoseok isn’t wrong. Your marriage may be for you and him alone, but your company– your artistry is only yours as much as it’s Hoseok’s. He has no place here and he feels it, his initial confidence that the collaboration he proposed was going to pass already dwindling by the millisecond.

“Hoseok’s right,” you cough, breaking their conversation. The tension was already too thick and you’ve barely made it halfway to looking at the entirety of the portfolio. “Reel it in, Jungkook.”

He’s jealous. He’s jealous and he forgot just how pathetic and insufficient one could feel when the green monster of heartburn decides to make an appearance. Jungkook just about doubts everything, from thinking of how your admiration for Hoseok is probably much higher than the admiration you have for him, to thinking if you even benefit from being arranged to him.

Hoseok looks over the designs, noting all the details silently.

“Huh. I see,” he hums, clearing his throat to try and keep all the crass words he has in mind to himself because you’re looking at him intently. “Skulls. Haven’t seen this one before.”

“You sketched this?” Hoseok nods every now and then, holding up the paper that had deep indents of the pencil on the paper to the point that it defeats the concept of a sketch. Your husband nods, and he wishes he hadn’t because Hoseok comments not a second later. “Figures.”

He hums, silently approving here and there of some concepts he could totally get behind. It’s not all rubbish content, but he can’t say that salvageable automatically equates to commendable.

“So? What do you think, Hobi?” you ask when the silence has gone long enough, having noticed that Jungkook already grew too quiet in your corner.

Hoseok calculates in his brain, looking from the portfolio and back to you. He tries not to clench his jaw for the sake of you silently pleading him to mince his words and actions, clasping his hands together.

“Yeah, it’s doable,” he nods, making Jungkook smile despite his ego being a little wounded. He’s bounced back miraculously, profusely thanking Hoseok with an unexplained eagerness to him. Before Jungkook could launch himself to further possibilities though, Hoseok calls for you.

“Y/N? A word, please?”

Jungkook looks back from the door, hesitant doe eyes flitting between the two of you. You don’t know exactly what’s going through his mind but you know better than to project, bidding him goodbye for the timebeing. “It’ll be quick.”

The most commendable trait you can attribute to Hoseok besides being your friend is his passion for your craft. He’s vision-oriented in the sense that he cuts straight to the chase before he could even lose the trail that the sudden burst of fervor leaves him.

“Meridian’s your baby. It’s your grandmother’s grandmother’s baby. It’s coveted. It has meaning,” Hoseok rambles, the sigh leaving him more concerned than it was relieved at being let out. He can’t mince his words now — he can’t put it in any other way besides the truth. “Collaborating with Jungkook cheapens it.”

“Hoseok.”

Your tone edges on a bite, clenching your jaw as you try to take everything in. Hoseok’s been your voice of reason for so long but you don’t know how to accept that voice now, the tinge of guilt slowly staining you because the back of your mind tells you that he isn’t wrong.

Jungkook’s streetwear brand is huge; whether or not you chalk it up to his name being linked to his family’s holding company that’s responsible for other designer brands, your husband’s brand specifically remains larger than life. It’s not a flawless brand, that much you’re sure of, but it’s still of great value.

Just perhaps not of the same degree that Hoseok holds your company to.

“It’s not all bad, but most of his work is dispassionate. It’s typical. Meridian would look cheap if you commit to this fever dream collaboration.”

There’s a rash on your neck, one that’s warm and speaks to your ear of how shitty it must feel to even agree partially to what Hoseok’s saying. Your duties as an artist in the business rarely clash with your courtesies as Jungkook’s wife — today just happens to be one of those days.

“It’s Jungkook’s idea, okay?” you relent, voice low as if in defeat of admission. You don’t mean to belittle him, you just happen to know and listen to reason. “It’s not the best, I know, but it’s honest work. Let’s give him a chance.”

“You’re giving him a chance because he’s your husband, not because you see any potential.”

Hoseok says it without uttering nor a single sense of doubt. He sounds so definite that you don’t even know if he’s still insulting Jungkook or if he’s insulting you at this point, swallowing your words.

There’s truth to your craft but you know there’s an even bigger truth to the unspoken protectiveness you have over Jungkook, the answer sounding seemingly shallow but that’s what it really is — love makes you shallow as much as it makes you deep.

“You’ll know when you’re married.”

“Arranged would be the term for you and Jungkook. Not married,” Hoseok quips. “You’re only holding back your critique. We both know it’s a dead end when it comes to creative direction.”

The both of you leave it at that, the decision being unanimous to collaborate with Jungkook despite your metalsmith’s hesitance. What you say goes, that’s just how hierarchy works. 

Unbeknownst to you and Hoseok though, Jungkook’s been listening the whole time — that’s just how love operates sometimes; hidden and relinquished.

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s hurt.

How crude of Hoseok to think of him that way. How worse of you to agree even.

Jungkook’s irrational when he’s hurt, refusing to see reason. He knows at the back of his head that he’s hit a rut and pitching in a collaboration with your brand is his last-ditch attempt in sparking something. Cheap was a word for tackiness and to have your friend use it on him brings him to a new low.

It’s just jewelry. What you make is just jewelry. Just pieces of metal bended and soldered together with shiny gems that don’t possess any real meaning to them besides superficial.

It’s not that deep.

Not that deep to the point that when Hyejoo, his childhood friend turned actress turned fleeting appearance in his life every now and then (whom you hate for some reason), asks him for a favor — Jungkook barely hesitates.

Hyejoo stands before him in a shirt from his brand’s limited collection, one out of the only hundred ever made. If Jungkook recalls correctly, he didn’t even send any items from the limited collection to any of his friends; he left everyone besides you to go fend for themselves.

Perhaps his childhood friend’s truly a fan of his craft, knowing her for her utmost support towards all his releases. To be honest, the two of them aren’t even that close anymore to the point that they’re each other’s first friend to think of in dire circumstances, except now — now when she needs him for a favor.

“But I need a pink ring for the event, Jungkook!” Hyejoo whines, throwing her head back for dramatic effect. Truth be told, she knew no brand that had pink jewelry that was elegant enough for her taste except yours. She’s turned down sponsorships all for a ring you probably keep in your sock drawer. “Yes I can buy from other brands but you’re there, Kook. You’re available and I can borrow from you because your wife has a shit ton.”

Jungkook knows what Hyejoo’s talking about. It’s the one pink ring that you wore on your engagement party with him and it’s become the talk of everyone from how ethereal you looked, the one tiny piece of jewelry tying it all together.

He knows it’s pink and he knows it’s just hidden away in its jewelry box, one that you keep right next to his collection of watches. There was no fancy vault for it either, just tucked next to his timepieces as if they were of the same value.

“Come on, she won’t even notice,” Hyejoo urges him, making him inwardly cringe. She turned up on his front door unannounced asking for a favor and he feels indebted her for the last time she granted him one, the apartment complex that Hyejoo owned becoming the perfect backdrop to his collection that’s still renowned to this day.

Jungkook’s loyal, he knows he is. His loyalties lie with you and he still honors his debt — whether or not you’re caught in the middle. It’s true that you won’t even notice, you don’t even peek at it anyway! For someone who’s a part of a family of jewelers, you rarely accessorize yourself gaudily.

“Fine. I’ll let you borrow,” Jungkook mutters, finally relenting to Hyejoo’s requests. He opens the door wider, on the way to your shared bedroom but looks back hastily at Hyejoo to point a stern finger. “But give it back, okay?”

It takes a great amount of strength for Jungkook to even hand the ring to Hyejoo, not even including the box with her because a) you would know that it was missing, and b) he wants her to wear it at all times until she gives it back the next day. Jungkook takes it personally to flick her wrist to serve as a reminder that he had given it to her already, even going so far to take a picture of the two of them and make her sign on his notes app.

He’s not necessarily betraying you — or so he thinks. It was just jewelry that you wouldn’t miss, same as the shirts that he gives away to his friends. Their retail prices may be lightyears away but you would understand; you always do.

Jungkook gaslights himself into thinking that he did no wrong but the guilt is what slowly gnaws on him, the tips of his fingers going numb every time he looks at you. 

Come to think of it, his decision to lend your ring to Hyejoo was out of sheer pettiness even without the assurance that you’ll take notice of it. His hurt over Hoseok’s comment disappeared the moment he handed her your ring, but to his surprise, it’s anxiousness that replaces his irritation.

He kisses you good night still as if today didn’t happen; how his irrationality had gotten the best of him when he got hurt by Hoseok’s remarks over his passion and creativity, and just a few hours later, it’s his impulsiveness and misplaced urge for vindication that lent your unsuspecting ring to his childhood friend.

“Jungkook!” you yell out in panic, urging him awake instantly that his heart beats incessantly despite being pulled out of sleep. You look frantic, the rawness in your eyes not from your lack of sleep, but instead from tears. “Call 911. The Interpol! The CIA! The fucking Blue House!”

“What?! What happened?!”

He’s panicked just as you are, hands shakily clutching his phone. He looks you up and down and inspects you for injuries to which there are none, nothing but overwhelm making your body shake.

Jungkook can’t bear to see you so glum and helpless, your bottom lip trembling as you look at him feeling nothing but pathetic.

“My ring,” you whisper brokenly, the phantom feeling of wearing it making you sob even more. “My ring is gone.”

Jungkook’s mouth dries, the panic in his own body turning against himself, his remorse growing into something larger than life. He could physically see the confusion on your face on the way he paled, his phone dropping out of his hold.

Your husband’s hands reach for you but you don’t take them, recoiling even before he could open his mouth. Jungkook was readable — too readable to the point that you wish he had lied to your face instead.

“I-I can explain.”

Jungkook weakens by the knees when the words drape from the tip of his tongue, your chest sucking in an inhale so sharp that he gets weakened by the force of it. “I lent it to Hyejoo.”

You’re quiet, the type of rage in you simmering ever so slowly that it builds to an immense heat. You don’t know if you can ever muster to look at Jungkook in the eye, your middle finger that knows the grooves of your ring twitching in muscle memory.

“You what?” you croak, tilting your head. You know what you’ve heard but you just wish you’re mistaken this time, cursing your own accuracy. “Who told you that you could do that?” 

Jungkook’s cornered in his mind and he spews the first thing in his mind, no matter how stupid it sounded.

“Yours is mine and mine is-…”

“That doesn’t apply here! You’re so fucking-…” you just about burst in the seams, clenching your jaw so hard to the point that you give yourself a headache. You’re resolute this way, the pitiful look on your husband’s face not getting a single drop of remorse from you. “Get it back.”

You wouldn’t have lent it to anyone regardless if Jungkook asked you, but you would have considered at the very least. For him to take something so special to you and loan it to someone you’re not even fond of ticks a wire in your brain, your anger coming before the sadness fully hits.

“Y/N!” he hisses, angry at both the situation and himself but he now thinks of the courtesy that he didn’t possess when Hyejoo borrowed your ring. “I can’t turn back on my word.”

“What? Your word that favors Hyejoo and shits on mine?” you scoff in disbelief, laughing at the mockery Jungkook makes of you. It’s insulting and saddening and you can’t even begin to think of the extensive cleaning and safekeeping you’ll have to do once you get your ring back. “I said, get it back. You’re my husband and you’re just her friend, you have all the means to take my ring back.”

Jungkook turns somber, a stark contrast to your anger. He pleads with you, finally closing the gap between you to which you roll your eyes.

“The event is tonight. She’ll return it tomorrow. Please, it’ll be embarrassing.”

“For you or for her?” you ask but the rage in your voice is already simmering, the daunting thoughts of how Jungkook thinks of his friend’s sake and himself first than his wife making you clench your fists around nothing.

“Y/N, please.”

His incessant begging does little to influence your decision because you’ve already changed your mind, the rage that dipped in you and the fact that your heart’s already aching despite having just woken up converting you instead.

“Tomorrow morning. I want it back in the case before I wake up.”

The two of you sleep apart for the night and Jungkook can’t even bring himself to contest it knowing that he doesn’t deserve to hold you. He simmers in self-loathing, unable to sleep the night when his phone dings from the notifications it has of your name.

Hyejoo’s look on the carpet trends the whole night, the main focus of everyone being the pink ring that adorns her ring finger. There’s threads of speculations how you and her are either best friends or how she must’ve bought it from you. If only he could, Jungkook would reply to each comment saying that Hyejoo doesn’t hold a candle to your elegance and how the ring has always been yours — that it’s his fault that his friend’s even wearing the same piece.

He’s restless and he can’t even begin to think how much more tired you feel. Of your name being brought up and of him royally fucking up. 

When Jungkook thinks it couldn’t be worse, karma one-ups him from the very mistake he committed when he entertained Hyejoo’s favor in his mind.

“You’re stupid,” you spit to Hyejoo who stands on your porch, head downturned in shame. She had half the decency to face you personally but lacks the rest to honor her end of the bargain; she lacks the intellect to respect you.

She lost the ring. She lost the pink ring you’ve treasured and cared for since you were a teenager, losing it after a careless and drunk decision of skinny dipping. You feel like you’ve been made a fool not only by your husband, but also by his friend that you don’t care for at all.

The tears fall out of your eyes in anger, each one being in a rush to exit because you’re full of resentment at this point.

“You’re a brainless, stupid, careless fucking idiot. I don’t want to see you in my household again,” you point at her, making her step back.

“This is Jungkook’s-…” she squeaks, just about to correct you when you point at her even more menacingly. You’re not even joking around as it seems like, eyes angry to the point that they lack of love, even for Jungkook who tries to hold you back.

“I’ll get a restraining order on you.”

Hyejoo scurries out all with the promise to reimburse you (as if she has the money to do so) that falls on deaf ears, your hand slamming the door too hard that your husband swears the walls shook with your force.

You look unrecognizable with the sheer disappointment you have for him, your anger dripping off of you thickly that he’s rendered speechless.

“You,” you seethe. “I fucking hate you.”

You never told him that before.

You’ve gotten mad at him on several occasions but never to this degree where you tell him that you loathe him. This is the furthest that you’ve took it, the honesty behind your words making his bottom lip tremble.

Jungkook’s eyes have been perpetually moist since last night but it’s only now that his eyes sting with white hot sadness. You’re only reacting out of your state of overwhelm; you must be, right?

“I hate you so, so much, Jungkook.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No, I really mean that,” you scoff to his face, shaking your head in absoluteness. “What would you do if I sold your car, huh?”

Jungkook wants to apologize to you so bad but he doesn’t have the right words to give you the proper one that you deserve. He gives you an answer off the top of his head, the disappointment for himself growing if he does otherwise.

“It’s just a car.”

“Well this is just not a fucking ring to me! It’s not simple like that!” you burst, your movements jerky.

“I’ll buy you a new ring,” he whispers, wanting to tug at his hair for being so stupid. He should’ve considered the possibility that Hyejoo has a knack for being careless; he failed to account that he went behind your back to lend your ring to someone else in the first place.

“I can buy my own rings!” you exclaim. “What you don’t get is that this means the world to me! If your uncle gave you a car, and I gave it to someone else and now it’s on the bottom of the ocean, what would you feel?”

“It’s just a car from my uncle. I can replace it. I can buy a better one.”

Jungkook knows he’s just making excuses. He’s just being defensive now that he’s cornered and has no excuse for behaving so poorly. He can’t escape the anger and the disappoint he’s flooded with, not when you cry out of sheer distress.

“Not if my aunt isn’t here! Not if this ring is one of the only things I have of her!”

Sure, your aunt was dodgy. She’s the black sheep of your family and had done more than a lot of questionable things, but she cared for you. She had given you her own ring when you were twelve and whilst it was too big for you to wear, she gave you a chain for you to wear it around your neck.

The ring is something you can easily replicate but the thought behind it is what you can’t take back. It’s not the only piece of her that you have but it’s one of the earliest things you obtained; one of the most notable pieces out of the bunch.

“You don’t think. You don’t care. You don’t love.” 

For Jungkook to carelessly seize it from you and loan it to someone else grips your heart like a vice. You’re gonna dwell on it for more than a couple of days and realize that you have more sentimental and elegant things you have of your aunt eventually — but what matters to you is how you feel now. How Jungkook had disappointed you so bad, you feel like throwing up.

“I want to divorce you,” you seethe, meaning your words at the heat of the moment. Jungkook stands frozen, hearing his own heartbeat thrum in his ears. “I can find a new husband. What I can’t find — what neither you nor Hyejoo can’t find is my ring.”

( ♡ )

You do it while he’s sleeping.

You take advantage of Jungkook’s fatigue and disorientation from crying his eyes out, passed out in the couch while he hugs himself with his arms to try and replicate your embrace. It’s already morning and it only looks like he slept just minutes ago, positively dozed off.

You take much care in slipping of the platinum wedding ring from his finger, joining your discarded one in your palm. There’s only carelessness when you scoop them into a tiny drawstring bag, taking it to Hoseok and doing a regular work day as if your head hadn’t pounded with hurt just last night.

It’s only convenient for the both of you; Jungkook’s decision slingshots back to him, and your client would be happy. Hoseok texted you last night asking if he should grant the request of a high-profile client with a titanium pendant, and it just so happens that you have two chunks of it that you no longer need. It could be melted and repurposed — after all, it’s just jewelry according to Jungkook.

The guilt of your impulsiveness doesn’t hit you instantly, it only comes with confusion when you see your husband in shambles.

When you come home, the whole house is upturned. Jungkook’s frantic, waking up to a hand that bears no wedding ring; no proof of you. His eyes glaze with relief briefly when he sees you, urging you to take in the situation fully.

“The police. The CIA! Interpol! MI6 — or is it MI7? Fuck, Mr. Bean’s movie was too good! Get the Blue House on the line!” he blubbers, looking back and forth the cushions of the couch and his hand. “My wedding ring!”

It’s perhaps a ballsy move made on your part, but you can’t guilt yourself into bearing the blame. You made your wedding rings and it only makes sense for you to get rid of them. The bands are symbolic, made and upheld with love for the last two years but in your haste of upset, you’ve given them away.

You perhaps regret it slightly, the fog in your brain lifting but only faintly. You’re still mad and disappointed at Jungkook, and perhaps you don’t mean the bit of divorcing him, but you do mean wholeheartedly the sentimentality you have behind all your jewelry.

The platinum in your ring finger just felt too heavy last night that you grew weary of it, not thinking twice when you removed yours and Jungkook’s. Even if the two of you make up and you don’t end up divorcing Jungkook, you wouldn’t want to wear the same ring that brought you the same pain during its stint.

“I sold them,” you answer, turning your back on him before you could see the anguish in his face. “We have no need for them.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s making you a rice bowl as an apology.

Buttered fried rice, egg, bacon, and all with a generous amount of cheese. It’s his hangover food when he needs something greasy and filling but the only difference from his past hangovers and your anger at him is the latter barely feels like it could be rectified.

He says his apologies again through the door and he’ll happily repeat it to your face if you stand longer in front of him for more than a minute, his panic even larger than the oil splashes he’s gotten from making your bacon eagerly.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It was stupid of me to lend your ring to Hyejoo behind your back and I swear I won’t do it again. I know that ring meant a lot to you and I-I was so pathetic by invalidating that,” he mutters through the door, looking at the frying pan every now and then to make sure he wasn’t burning anything. “I have every intention of finding your ring and making it up to you, cross my heart!”

It feels insulting, even. For him to think that he could change the ache of your heart with a simple hot meal. Jungkook realizes that he really is dense when you don’t answer the door for the twenty minutes that he knocks. When you do open up, he feels even more dumb.

Just twenty minutes ago, he wired you twice the amount of the worth you estimated your aunt’s ring to be. Combined with the pitiful amount Hyejoo wires you, it’s then do you realize that you’re not fazed by money. The initiative is there, sure, but the ache in your heart hasn’t subsided completely.

You do miss Jungkook. It does tug at your heartstrings to see and hear him beat himself up over and over again the more you realize that you’re attached to your aunt’s memories rather than the ring itself, but just two nights away from each other won’t absolve everything he’s done and failed to do.

When you open the door, you’re greeted by the sight of your husband who tries far too hard for his own good. Melancholy isn’t a good look on him because he looks the most unkempt he’s ever appeared in two days than the two years you’ve been living with him under the same roof.

Jungkook waits for you to register his attempt, holding up a hot bowl with his bare hands that you resist the urge to take it from him for a second. His ring finger’s occupied by a cheap mood ring, rapidly turning red at the moment from the heat of the bowl.

You look down fully expecting to be swayed even just a little bit, but when you do, you feel the kick to just slam the door right back.

“I hate runny eggs,” you scowl. “Two years married and you don’t even know how I like my eggs cooked.”

Jungkook wants the ground to swallow him whole. 

He wishes that if it was true that chickens are the last true descendants of dinosaurs, there’d be a chicken the same size as them that pecks him into oblivion.

He hurriedly turns on the stove and scoops up the egg back into it, careful not to have any of the runny folk get on your meal. He itches in frustration, his ring finger that’s temporarily adorned with a cheap and clunky mood ring being accurate by turning blue in sadness.

Jungkook’s so out of it, so disappointed in himself that he doesn’t notice he cooks the egg until it’s burnt, the char of it reflecting how poorly he thinks of himself now.

It’s like when you were disappointed in him that time when his outlandish aunt made a rude comment about you and you were speechless the whole night that he stayed silent. He remedied it by later groveling at your feet and marching to his aunt and laying out all of his intentions for her to grow up and apologize to you, the same aunt that’s now blacklisted from all the gatherings.

It’s like when you were upset at him when he left abruptly in the morning and didn’t tell you where he was going because he didn’t know if you would care, partying it up in a different country for his friend’s bachelor’s party and coming home a day later with you hot on his heels. Jungkook made it up to you by once again apologizing profusely and updating you on his whereabouts since then (sometimes he gives too much information), always making it a point to bring two powerbanks with him so he can text you when he’s left and arrived.

This time though, he doesn’t know how exactly to make it up to you. He’s been in contact with professional divers to try and look for the ring for you, but he can’t be of much help until he comes along to know for sure. He’s thinking of all these different ways and approaches but he’s unsure if any of them are sufficient enough to rectify his mistake.

Jungkook feels pathetic because he swears he loves you and knows everything about you, but here he is — crying about how he doesn’t even know how you like your eggs cooked.

You’re upset at him, and he can’t do anything right for you.

( ♡ )

Jungkook tries again at dinner.

It’s the day of Meridian’s 100th anniversary and the two of you play it up for the cameras, your husband’s attention on you so keen and affectionate that you almost forget you were supposed to be mad at him.

He takes advantage of the cameras during the carpet session, tugging you close with his hand on your waist as he seizes the chance to hug you tightly at the end when you enter the hall with no cameras in place. He breathes you in as he always does, hesitant to let you go and exhale because you’re the very scent and existence of love.

Jungkook studied, of course he did. He’s touched up on his jewelry knowledge because he’s more than desperate now to seek your validation, nervously smiling all around as he waits for people to stop approaching you in your table.

His attention’s fixed on your necklace, the stone on it similar to the very ring he lent and lost. He’s brought it up about five times already, animatedly reciting trivia about it as if you’re not the literal face of the jewelry industry. He clears his throat, leaning in for you to whisper intimately, but just loud enough for the other people to hear a tad. 

“Ah, that pink sapphire looks so good on you, babe.”

“Shut up,” you mutter sharply, making Jungkook’s heart skip a beat. You melted against him when he was hugging you, that much he was sure of. He doesn’t know why you’ve become harsh again all of a sudden, forgetting that his lapse this time was opening his mouth. “Stop saying that.”

“Saying what?” his brows furrow, swallowing the lump on his throat. “Pink?” he guesses, eyes wavering as he tests the waters. “Pink sapphire?”

It takes a lot in you not to make an outburst. Truth be told, you’ve started easing up on Jungkook but his attempts at trying hard is just too much and in the wrong direction, hearing pink sapphire over and over again reminding you of the ring you lost.

“Yes, that! Stop talking.”

“But I did my homework! Of course I’m not gonna stop talking,” he defends himself, the nervousness rising to his throat like bile. God, what if he did the wrong homework? What if he’s missed the assignment all along?

“Clearly you didn’t try hard enough because you’re wrong, Jungkook. This isn’t a pink sapphire — this is a pink diamond.”

Jungkook’s brain stops functioning for a solid five seconds, his mouth drying. The only proof that he was still breathing is his big eyes threatening to water.

“And so is my ring that you gave to your friend without asking me,” you add.

“What?!” he sputters in disbelief, recounting to all the other times he named the gem in multiple occasions even before today. “B-but I said it so many times before! You didn’t even correct me!”

“I didn’t correct you because you looked so proud of yourself!” you exclaim, surrendering with a sigh. Pink sapphire was the first gem that Jungkook had managed to name in your trivia night on the first month of your marriage, his avidness on getting it “right” so contagious that you didn’t have the heart to correct him.

“Pink sapphire is dirt cheap compared to pink diamonds, Jungkook! You just keep saying sapphire over and over again because it’s your birthstone,” you mumble, looking around to see if there were any people growing nosy at your conversation. “I let you say it over and over again to the point that I wore them instead of diamonds because you just can’t shut up about them,” you grit. 

This is the only time you reference your sentiment with the jewelry itself in words, your last profession of your disappointment in him being the removal of your wedding bands.

 “That’s the thing with you — you can’t tell. This isn’t just about emerald o-or octagon cuts, Jungkook. This is our marriage and you gave a girl that I don’t like my ring that meant so much to me! Now you can’t get it back.”

Jungkook’s speechless, holding back tears. You fear you’ll cry yourself when you look at his round, pleading eyes so you don’t, squeezing in the last word even if he always lets you have it.

“And now I’m correcting you because you’re embarrassing me. Now please, lay off with the gem terms.”

( ♡ )

Things have been tame between you and Jungkook.

You’ve aired out your grievances and Jungkook’s still trying hard as always, perplexing you because he hasn’t gone restless. It’s progressively warmer between the two of you but it’s nowhere near to what the two of you used to be, the air between the two of you going static that you’ve utilized it for your own.

It’s just a quick getaway for the day, hopping aboard a yacht with the intention of giving yourself a break. You’ve reflected enough but not alone with yourself, the period of space with Jungkook being much-needed.

Until you’re mistaken of course.

You think your mind’s playing tricks on you when the boat rocks more than it would with waves, but the all too familiar figure coming into your vision turns out to be real. It’s Jungkook in the flesh, wearing his scuba suit and gear.

It’s a pure coincidence that is. All Jungkook knew was that you were going on a yacht today and you didn’t specify where; meanwhile, all you knew was that he was going to be scuba diving, but he didn’t specify where either.

It’s purely kismet but your bodyguard Taehyung doesn’t seem to think so, legitimately thinking it was a pirate instead of your husband so he repeatedly smacks him with an oar until you stop him.

“Jungkook!” you call out, getting your bodyguard to stop. Atleast he has the decency to look sheepish, but he was genuinely concerned! He thought you were being hijacked by someone dressed in the most unassuming scuba suit, holding a plastic bag in his hands.

Your husband barely winces from the pain because he’s high from all the adrenaline, chest rising rapidly in succession. “Y/N, baby, I — hold on, I’m gonna, wait-…”

He looks tired still but there’s a light to him, either his radiance has come back or it was just the sun behind him but either way, it was nice to look at Jungkook who isn’t groveling at your feet for once.

He finally catches his breath, standing up to his full height as he tries not to ramble his words.

“I bought all the fish.”

“You did what?” your eyes widen, pathetically looking at the vast ocean around you. Perhaps you’re so startled (and amused) by Jungkook’s sudden and silly appearance that you forgot to apply common sense, just as breathless as he is.

“Okay maybe not all, but I did buy a lot of fish,” he concedes, nodding incessantly. He’s too excited that he can’t contain himself, even more-so when you finally look at him without disdain staining your features.

“For what?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Jungkook smiles, never having been more proud retelling you his previous failure.

“Your favorite seafood restaurant? I bought them their stock, provided that they’ll open up every last fish in there to see if they had your ring,” he shrugs as if it’s a common thought process to abide by, later shaking his head. “They don’t.”

If there’s just one trait that Jungkook had to be known with by everyone, it would be his persistence.

Jeon Jungkook is endearingly, cloyingly, and annoyingly persistent with the things he desires and the things he’s passionate about. You’re his wife — you’re his every last desire and passion. He had wronged you fresh from a week and some days ago but that timeframe has already given him ample time to fully redeem himself.

He can’t undo what he did. He can’t reverse the time he lent his wife’s ring to his friend who loses it not a full day later. Jungkook can’t take back any of the things he did but what he can do is be dedicatedly persistent in correcting himself.

He’s tanner, his muscles are bulged and straining, and his skin’s itchy with all the salt but he takes all of these things in stride — he’s become a better person through persistence.

“I also tried snorkeling for a week and I still couldn’t find it,” he trails, biting his bottom lip while he clasps his hands behind his back. “But I tried again today.”

It’s either relief or endearment that fills your face full, but nonetheless, the light that Jungkook sees from you lulls him to the comfort and warmth he’s been yearning from you for the past week. His eyes are strained and his body feels itself moving in waves as if he was still underwater, but he just closes his eyes to savor the moment.

You bound to him to put him in an embrace, your husband instantly melting in your hold. It’s either all the salt in his eyes or it’s just the realization that you’ve finally forgiven him and it’s all the love he feels for you, but either way, you hold Jungkook tighter.

“I found your ring.”

( ♡ )

You don’t know when Jungkook first loved you.

You can’t pinpoint an exact moment when Jungkook started acting differently towards you because he’s always been the same way from day one, the same qualities that make him both annoying and endearing having been there from the start.

You could always ask but you can’t bring yourself to. It shouldn’t bother you at the end of the day because the important thing is that Jungkook loves you. He loves without reservations, the pinnacle of his love language being his patheticness in trying hard.

Jeon Jungkook may try hard for everyone, but he tries the most for you.

He wakes up early and you only realize his absence when you turn to pat the warm space he’s supposedly left behind, making you rub the sleep out of your eyes. 

You wonder for a second that if Jungkook left the bed early and is quiet at the moment, he’s probably at the bottom of the staircase again because he yawned while going down. There’s no schedule today for either of you and you aren’t sick for him to make any sudden trips downstairs, his absence making you wonder this time.

There’s clanging coming from the garage, piquing your interest largely. There sits Jungkook wearing less safety gear that you’d like, blocks and blocks of wood surrounding him.

Your husband looks up, unassuming as usual while he breaks out into a grin.

“I’m making furniture for you.”

“That’s not necessary,” you snort, recounting all of the pieces you’ve acquired from your friend who’s an expert on woodcarving. Jungkook seems to know this too but he’s insistent, shaking his head eagerly.

His eyeglasses (his prescription ones instead of the actual safety ones) fog up from both his sweat and the few tears he’s shed out of frustration, taking them out so you could see the passion in his eyes. The passion’s definitely there, dampening his eyelashes and even tinting his eyelids pink.

“No, I’ll paint it up real good and it’ll blend it to your aesthetic.”

“Besides that, Jungkook,” you warn, coming down to squat on the space beside him. “You’re not good with tools.”

“Not good at them like Hoseok?” he questions, raising his brow. He’s frustrated and cranky and he just compared his (eager yet improper) use of large power tools compared to Hoseok’s expertise in using much, much smaller tools. Jungkook’s sweaty from all the effort, vaguely gesturing to the item in front of him. “Please, can Hoseok do it like me?” 

Your husband points to the lopsided bench (?) slash coffee table (?) slash abstract piece (?)  in front of you whose message is that they’re tired, only the scoopers for faux blood missing. It’s quite the spectacle. Not necessarily a statement piece because it raises more questions than any resolute takeaways at all.

“No, not really,” you joke around, winking to get the joke across your husband’s skull who sometimes reads between the lines too literally. “He can do it much, much better than you.”

“I’m trying to be romantic!” Jungkook whines with no real harm. “Go ahead, why don’t you divorce me and marry him because he’s so good with using a hammer?” 

The two of you were back; the same playfulness and warmth rekindling, if not stronger. Some things were just too strong to grow out of, such as Jungkook’s double takes when it comes to another name being linked to you.

He’s just making sure, still as desperate to gain your validation even before the ring incident took place.

“That was… a joke if you couldn’t tell,” Jungkook laughs robotically, eyes narrowing and widening at you every two seconds. “I’m just kidding. You knew that. You wouldn’t do that… right?”

You wouldn’t.

He knows that you love him. He had known it during his state of vulnerability and he knows it now even in a state of security. He knows it even without a wedding ring, your promise of making new ones for the both of you remaining in his mind.

The downfall of Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t be his persistence that also bears the ability to be his uprising, it was never that. Jungkook’s downfall would only be the loss of you and it’s the only absence that he can’t risk.

Your husband tries so hard that it brings you secondhand embarrassment at times, his mishap with the pink sapphire cementing in your mind just how much of himself he dedicates to you, even with lapses along the way.

Jungkook tries so hard that he ends the day with splinters on his hand and his sinuses clogged with far too much dust. His effort doesn’t always equate to the best but he gives what he always has when you’re in the equation.

It’s a wooden box for your rings, a shallow heart with your initials carved on the inside. It’s smooth even without the varnish, a stark contrast to his hands that are all rough from doing all the labor.

“I can’t give you jewelry that you already have.”

Jungkook admits to you whole-heartedly, sitting at the end of the bed while he watches you admire the box in your vanity.

“But I can make shirts for you. Stitch up your name real nicely on my chest pocket,” he offers, the smile on his lips growing. “I can make furniture for you,” he shrugs, chuckling at himself. “I can’t guarantee that it’s usable but I can make furniture a little.”

You smile so warmly that Jungkook forgets all of the little pains, melting away his fatigue. If you could put all the love you have for Jungkook in a single space, even the mansion the two of you reside in won’t be enough.

“Cooking too. I can also cook a-and make perfect rice and I promise to remember how you like your eggs in the morning.”

Jungkook knows it to heart by now, even without the reminder he’s written himself pasted on the counter. Your eyes were just so glossy and moist that Jungkook can’t help but to spring to your side, patting them dry with his shirt.

Your husband wipes away your tears even before they could form and it pushes them out further, the voice in your throat dwindling. It’s the cheap and rusting mood ring on his ring finger that gets you to sob, seeing the faint green outline that it leaves.

He takes notice of your observation, understanding that jewelry means much  more to you that he could comprehend which is why he’s quick to remedy your thoughts.

“I can always get tattoos of you if that’s what you want,” he continues, smiling sheepishly. “Actually, that’s what I want.”

Jungkook takes off his ring and it forces you to blink away your tears, lips parting open when it clicks.

It’s your initials on Jungkook’s ring finger, recognizing it as your own handwriting. 

You’re filled with a great amount of gratitude that runs even deeper than the ink on Jungkook’s skin, making you sniffle and it gets him to bury your face against his chest while he shushes you.

“Why would you get that?”

It belatedly hits you that since you took your wedding bands, your husband’s left ring finger had not been vacant since. 

“Because you sold our rings,” Jungkook shrugs, the look of ease on his face evident. “You sold them but we’re still married to each other,” he gently kisses your temple, letting you hold his hand to look at the tattoo closer. “We’re married. I still want people to know that I’m married to you.”

“Well,” you clear your throat, distraught with your emotions. “Your mood ring says you’re sad.”

“Passionate would be the term,” he sniffles, transferring the cheap ring to your finger. He giggles when it changes colors immediately, the timing of the situation being impeccable. “Okay now my ring says you’re happy.”

“Are you?” he asks whilst laughing but the both of you know it bears a weight.

“I am,” you answer just as seriously. “We’re okay, Jungkook. I forgive you.”

If you ask Jungkook what would his greatest joy and his greatest pain be, both answers would be you.

“Is your tattoo artist still around?” you ask while he puts you close to his chest, snapping him out of his trance.

“What for?”

“I think I want to match your permanent ring.”

“Are you real?” he mutters to himself, questioning your existence that he still isn’t sure if he deserves to have and love for the rest of his life. “Are you really real? You exist?”

“Yeah, he’s still around but I’d rather do it on you myself,” Jungkook answers eventually, returning the question. “Is that okay? Let me learn for a few months and I’ll tattoo my initials on you myself?”

You furrow your brows, not a single doubt placed on you if your husband was the one to tattoo you. “Yeah, but is that okay with you? You’re the only one who’s gonna have me on you for a couple more months. I can’t reciprocate because you want to ink me yourself.”

Jungkook only smiles, the warmth enough to outshine the sun.

“That’s not new to me,” he reassures you. “I loved you even before I married you.”

#thank u for 2022 :) consider this as my gift for the holidays!!! #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts jungkook imagine

[klintoris]

Jschlatt x Fem!Reader Smut

When I started streaming, I never thought it would get me to where I am today. That's how everyone thinks, no one truly fathoms the huge increase in followers when collaborating with a huge streamer. 

For me it was Jschlatt. 

-

“YOU LITTLE FUCKING SHIT”  Schlatt screamed over the call after I just murdered him in Minecraft again, stealing all of his things. “My bad” I cackle over the line, “toots’ you are so fucking lucky you live in another state” he threatens, “fuck does that mean???? Are you threatening me, big man?? I will clobber you.”, I hold my streaming camera and stare directly into it. there's a small silence before he speaks up, “Don't, don't look at me like that”, “Like what?” still making direct eye contact with the camera, “I’m-”. I cut him off “Anyway, while you weren't looking I blew up your dog.” I pull away from the camera. 

Eventually after multiple matches of bickering, I grabbed my suitcase and made my way to the airport. 

-

Schlatt was streaming, as planned. Ted was visiting and knew about my drop-in. 

I pull up to the house in the Uber, getting anxious I look at my phone, I have the stream pulled up to see what the boys are up to. I get out, and standing near the door I message Ted that I am here, I watch as he tells Schlatt he's going to the bathroom. Soon Ted comes and lets me in. “ok so, I'm going to go back up and in like 5-10 minutes come into the room”, I nod, setting my suitcase near the door, along with my bag. Ted closes the door behind me and walks up the stairs, I follow him up through the hallway near the door of Schlatts streaming room. Ted walks in and closes the door behind him, assuming to keep jambo and soup out. Contemplating my entrance, the 10-minute mark hits and I open the door without my body in the doorway, schlatt and Ted both turn slowly to look at the door open. I walk into the doorway, as schlatt sees me and he turns to Ted speechless, “No fucking way”. he gets out of his chair, flinging it to the floor and throwing his hands on his head. “Hey, monkey man!!” I gloat and open my arms for a hug, “no no no how did you get here,” he says, obviously joking. “A plane, how else,” I say bringing my arms down, “aren't you excited??” I look at him, and he sighs “Only a little” he cracks a small smile. 

-

“Alrighty big man, I gotta head out,” I say after we've been streaming for over 3-4 hours.

“What? Where are you going??” he questions me after ending the stream, I stretch “To my hotel?” I question his antics, “why not stay here? Why waste the money?” he says to me as he stares at my exhausted state.  “Schlatt you don't have a spare room, ted isn't even staying here” I stare at him in confusion glancing at Ted, “Sleepover!” Ted says from the hallway as he prepares to leave for his hotel. Schlatt looks at Ted and then me raising his eyebrows, “You're funny schlatt but where the hell would I sleep?” I cross my arms looking down at Schlatt in his rolly chair, “I have a bed, I can sleep on the floor like a gentleman”, “That's silly I wouldn't make you sleep on the floor in your own house.” I stare closely trying to see his reaction. “Well” he pauses for a second, I can hear Ted stop moving to listen intently, “we could always share a bed, it's a king so we have our own postal codes almost” he grins leaning back with his hands behind his head. I internally scream, I find Schlatt very attractive but to sleep in the same bed would probably kill me. I stare, thinking,  if I ever have a chance it would be now, “finnee” I cave. “there that's my girl!” he squeals like a little school girl, almost making me forget what he said. “Alrighty kids'm off” Ted speaking up from the doorway in a sing-songy voice pulls me away from my thoughts. “awwhh bye Uncle Ted,” I say hugging him, Schlatt gets up from his chair and says his goodbyes and looks at me “Okay where’ your bags?” schlatt turns to me, the doors shut downstairs as ted leaves, “by the door but I can get them its fine”. “Alright if you insist on lugging a suitcase up the stairs, knowing you it's probably heavy too, be my guest.” I sigh, “Fine, Mr. Schlatt, could you please carry my bags up to your room for me pretty please” I blink rapidly looking up at the tall man with my hands clasped as I swayed, “perhaps.”.

-

Crawling into the bed after doing all of my nightly routines, it's rather fucking cold. I shiver as I regret the choice of clothing, shorts and a t-shirt, only if I knew schlatt kept his room at arctic level cold. “Everything alright toots’?” he looks at me, realizing he's wearing the grey sweatpants girls fawn over, I groan “Nothin’”, he shrugs and climbs under the covers far away from me. I shiver as my teeth start to clatter, almost nothing is helping, not even Schlatts thick blankets. “You sure you’re alright?” he asks from across the bed,  “Why is it so cold in here?” he chuckles as I feel the bed shift, as the bed creaks I feel schlatt pull me up against him, “there you can be warm now,” he says sliding a hand around my waist. Almost on cue, a shiver ran up my spine and my ass pushed into his dick, I froze in position after hearing him grunt. “what was that?” he says in a low voice, “not a clue” I manage to let out trying to sound as if I don't have a massive lady boner right now.

I try to shift to get comfortable, along with try not to push into him again, I graze his cock again. He holds my hips, “If you keep doing that I swear” Wanting to push his limit I speak out without thinking, “You will do what?”, there's a pause before I grind intentionally this time against him. He groans, he slides his hand from my hips to lower, his hand above my pussy, I breathe heavily anticipating his next move. He glides his hand down again cupping my clothed heat, I breathe in, sucking all the air in my lungs. Schlatt puts his head in the crook of my neck, he proceeds to start kissing and nipping at my neck slowly as he starts to practically massage my clothed pussy. I moan out, still lying on my side I turn to face schlatt, staring at him I look at his lips as he does the same. We pull each other into a heated kiss. He moves his hand from in between my thighs and gets on top of me. He lays in between my thighs, grabbing at my chest as his big hands roam around my body almost claiming it. I groan into the kiss as I feel his cock grind up against my covered pussy, schlatt notices this and grinds into me more, still gripping my chest.

He moves his lips from mine to my neck again, his mutton chops tickling at my neck as he sucks and bites at my sensitive area. “Fuck schlatt, please” I plead, not even sure of what I'm asking for.

“What is it princess?” he pulls away from my neck to look at me, “you want me to fuck that pussy of yours? Hm?” he taunts almost pouting at my state. Nodding eagerly he speaks up, “Use your words, what happened to that loud mouth of yours?”, “Please, please fuck, fuck me schlatt”. “That's it” he bellows as leans back as he practically rips my shorts down my legs, seeing the wet spot on my pink lace panties he teases me, not just with his words but his finger, grazing the spot as he says “she’s practically drooling for me, huh toots’”. I try to squirm away from him toying with my bud, but he grabs my hips and slowly hooks his finger on my panties pulling the skimpy article to the side leaning down and giving it a long lick.

He pulls away licking his lips, “She tastes almost as pretty as she looks” I moan in response, wanting to beg again he pulls his shirt over his head. I revel in the patch of chest hair before looking at his hands pulling his sweats off, I inhale sharply before he leans back down to kiss me, taking my shirt off during the kiss he breaks to look at my tits. “Fuck princess why were you hiding these from me”, schlatt starts to lick and suck at my right nipple while kneading the other tit, attempting to give them equal attention. At this point, I love the foreplay, though, the anticipation is killing me. I whine at the contact, “Please schlatt” I beckon pulling at his hair, he pulls away from my tits, “Fine fine”. Schlatt pulls back, taking my panties off he throws them somewhere behind him, attempting to close my legs he slaps them open. Schlatt takes his boxers off, and as his cock hits his stomach, the fear of god strikes me. It would be assumed schlatt would have a huge dick but I feel like ill be the next Mr. Hands. Schlatt resumes his position in between my thighs, moving his hands from beside my waist to guide his cock to my entrance, teasing it slowly before sticking the tip in. “shit, you're already so tight”, I moan a little in pain at the expected stretch, eager for him to put all of his cock in I buck my hips, he grabs my hips, almost enough to bruise them.

“M’ tryin' to hold back toots’ you aren't helping my case” he grumbles, “What if I do not want you to hold back?” I say not even thinking, he looks back and forth between both of my eyes for a second before shoving his whole cock in. I gasp at the stretch, and he begins to thrust at a normal pace, “f fuck schlatt” I suck in through my teeth before throwing my head back, “more please” I bring my head back looking at him. He's so focused on my reactions to him that he doesn't comprehend what I say until he pulls all the way back out and slams back in, his balls hitting the back of my ass hard.

“Holy shit,” he says before grabbing at my hips, leaning back on his feet he uses the fat from my hips to yank my body back onto his cock. “Oh my god”, I say clawing at his hands holding my hips, “he can't help you right now princess” he states after chuckling and then groaning. Schlatt slaps at my tits before grabbing at my neck, now using it as leverage along with my hip still, slamming me onto his cock.

As he pounds into me he makes eye contact with me before reaching down to my clit with the hand that was on my neck, rubbing at the bundle of nerves I go to throw my head back.

“Don't you fucking dare, I want you to look at me when you cum on my cock with that pretty pussy” he says through gritted teeth. I whimper at his words feeling white hot pleasure start to build up, “please please please please” I beg, “come on pretty girl let it out” as he fucks the spot in me that many have had trouble finding. “I'm, ah” I cum, and I cum hard, “That's it, that's my girl”, but he still keeps going. Not stopping. “Schlatt” I manage to get out between moans, “I'm not done with you yet”, flipping me onto my stomach he lifts my hips as he pushes himself back in. “oh my fucking-” I get cut off when he starts slamming into me again, slapping my ass roughly he holds the fat on my hips again, leaving bruises. “She takes me so well princess” I whine, starting to drool from over-stimulation before he yanks my head by my hair pulling me flush against his body.

He grabs my waist, and snakes a hand down back to my clit, “schlatt I can't, I can't”, “Yes you fucking can”, I clench on his cock as my second orgasm builds up. “F- fuck” he moans out, “cum with me pretty girl”. I moan at his words as I feel his cock twitch in me, clenching down I cum and fall against the bed. He whimpers noises I never thought I'd hear from his mouth, “Take all of it, good girl, gon’ fill you up s’ nice”, I feel him paint my walls white as he slows to a hilt. He pulls out as liquid gushes out of my abused hole, “gotta get you cleaned toots’” he says out of breath. 

this is my first post AHHHHH!!! let me know if you guys enjoy and if you want more!!

#jschlatt smut #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt #schlatt x reader smut #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt #schlatt x reader

[omgwhatchloe]

REASONS WHY HAVING SOME RDR2 CHARACTERS AS YOUR PASSENGER IN YOUR CAR SUCKS:

Charles: Only talks to points out every single animal he sees. Other than that, it’s just silence unless you start the conversation or you’re Arthur. Oh but trust me, he wants the AUX. He’s just not gunna ask.

John: Either demands the AUX cord or just connects it anyway, then proceeds to be musically inconsiderate with what he plays. You despise this song with every ounce of your being? Too bad. This song reminds you of your lowest point? Suck it up buttercup. This was playing in the car when you crashed and killed the person in the passenger seat? Womp womp.

Dutch: Seems to think it’s his car. In fact, he feels completely free to change the music, turns up the heat as much as he pleases, winds the windows up and down, moves his seat constantly etc etc.

Reverend Swanson and Mary-Beth: Car sick. So very car sick. Your two options when driving them anywhere is the sound of heavy breathing with the sounds of the highway being blasted in through the open window, or bags rustling with the sound of puking and groaning. Trust me, they’d rather have walked as well.

Javier: Awful navigator. It’s fine when you know where you’re going, but absolutely awful when you need navigation. Half the time, you look over and he’s gone off the navigation app and is playing subway surfers and texting. The other half of the time, he’s misreading the directions then yelling at YOU. Not to mention it’s completely unsurprising to wonder why you’ve been driving for so long then find he’s clicked on the entire wrong destination without a second thought.

Sean: Acts like he’s never eaten before in his life as soon as he gets into the car. Sees a Wendy’s? He’s suddenly starving. Burger King? He hasn’t eaten in three days. KFC? He’ll pay you back, he swears! In fact, the man has absolutely no problem being late for anything if you stop for food. You could be on the way to Davey’s funeral, already running late and suddenly pull into the Krispy Kreme carpark and you would not hear a single protest from him.

Micah: Yaps a whole lot of waffle about how he’s all this n all that to the point you don’t even know what he’s saying anymore and neither does he. Also enjoys flipping random people off and yelling shit out of the window. Expect to be chased by an angry driver for at least 12 miles.

Bill: Eats and then just throws his trash on the floor without a single second thought. If you ask him to pick it up, he will, but not without angrily grumbling and snatching it up. Is in a bad mood for about 2 minutes before he realises he wants to yap so does.

Karen, Uncle, Abigail and Sean: Distracts the driver. Whether it’s with yapping or loud videos or drinking or messing with the music volume, they somehow keep it up from the start of the drive right to the end.

Hosea: Puts his feet up and puts his seat back like he’s in bed. Just won’t sit normally. Will give you a ‘look’ when you ask him to put them down.

Lenny: Makes things awkward, because the first thing he does is comment on the dirtiness of your car then looks extremely shocked and uncomfortable at himself for saying that for about 7 seconds before pulling out his phone and facetiming Sean for the whole drive and giving you the same looks Hosea does when you try to speak to him. When not on the phone, he tends to respond with shrugs and “Okay then,” while folding him arms and staring out of the window. Seems to be in an awful mood until he’s out of the car. He hates car rides if it’s not with his favourite people.

Molly: Acts like you can’t drive. Struggling to see what’s right in front of you? Molly’s got your back! Seriously, she will yell at you to stop at the red light you had already seen 7 seconds ago and started to slow for. Old woman crossing (while you’re already stopped)? She will yell at you not to go so loud you debate kicking her out and making her get her own car, since she knows so much.

Tilly and Strauss: Tries to get you to speed. It’s like they’ve never heard of laws before, and will insist you ‘go faster’ even though your way is blocked by other cars. It’s painfully obvious they both can’t drive and have never had to pay for gas money.

Miss Grimshaw: Absolutely disgusted by your car and wants to make that very clear. It wouldn’t be surprising if halfway through, she started to clean it herself.

Jack: Really really really wants to press that horn. You’d find it cute at first, but so goddamn annoying when your car starts honking in the middle of a busy crossing. It’s like a constant slap-fight except you’re pushing his hands away every-time they come for the horn.

Arthur: Constantly asking to pull over. He’ll casually say “stop here” as if you’re a taxi, not to mention you’re in the middle of nowhere on the highway and you really don’t understand what a stranger mission means. Commonly, you have to explain things like how you’re already an hour late and you literally do not have the room to drive that family of five that’s broken down anywhere, nor can you stop at an empty warehouse and potentially get arrested for trespassing because he wants to explore.

Kieran: Terrified when you go slightly over the speed limit. He acts like he’s in an F1 race with no seatbelt being hung out of the window.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan #red dead headcanons #headcanons #fandom #john marston #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #sean macguire #lenny summers #uncle #abigail roberts #jack marston #dutch rdr2

[roses-r-rosie3]

Pop!: Let The Chaos Begin

Miguel O'hara x M!Reader

[Pop! Masterlist]

Warnings: Crack, Spideplush being mischievous, Miguel is a victim fr😔

Summary: Miguel is asked by reader to take care of spider plush while he goes to take care of an anomaly and spider plush ends up wreaking havoc but as soon as reader comes back from his mission spider plush acts innocent

A/n: Okay so, originally it was going to be Put It Straight that was going to get a part 2 first but I just got this idea and now I can't stop thinking abt it

Quote: "I'm gonna get back at that little shit head"

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ever since Spider Plush was invited to the society, you have been treating him like your own child. Feeding him, bathing him, cradling him, and more. Miguel would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous from your treatment of Spider Plush. But anyways back to present day.

"Hey babe" You said as you walked into Miguel's office while cradling spider plush in your arms.

"What is it this time?" Miguel grunted.

"I just need you to babysit Spider Plush while I go handle another anomaly" You said as you handed Spider Plush to Miguel.

"Can't he just take care of himsel-"

You interrupted Miguel by giving him the 'don't test me' glare.

"Alright! Have fun and be safe!" Miguel laughed awkwardly.

"Bye Bye Spider Plush, your other dad will take care of you while I'm gone" You said after you gave Spider Plush one last kiss before you opened a portal.

"Dad?!" Miguel yelled as you walked into the portal.

When you were finally gone, everything seemed normal, at first.

"So.. uhhh.. how are you?" Miguel said.

Spider Plush looked at Miguel, blinked a few times, and he immediately got out of Miguel's hands and started to attack him.

"GAHH!" Miguel yelled as the spider plush started to attack his face.

Miguel started to try and tear the Plush off of his face as he stumbled around and accidentally knocking stuff off of his desk. When Miguel finally ripped the plush off of his face, Spider Plush started to run away to cause more chaos.

"No! No! No! No! Come back! Your dad is gonna kill me if you get hurt!" Miguel yelled as he chased the plushie around the building.

The Spider Plush ran into the cafeteria and started throwing food from the other spider people's plates at Miguel. Miguel increasingly got more annoyed as the plushie started to throw more food at him, but all of a sudden a whole plate was thrown at Miguel's head as it shattered to pieces on impact, causing Miguel to stop for a bit.

"OW! You little piece of shit!" Miguel roared as he heard a little laugh coming from Spider Plush.

When Spider plush was done wreaking havoc in the cafeteria, he started running towards the therapy room.

"So what brings you here?" said the spider therapist.

"It- It's about my Uncle" One of the spider people sobbed.

"Agai-"

Spider Plush and Miguel bursted into the room. Spider Plush tried using the spider therapist as a human shield, but failed as Miguel caught him and started to bring him towards the 'go home' Machine.

"I'm done with you, you little piece of shit" Miguel growled, ignoring how Spider Plush kicking at him.

"Margo, prepare the go home machine for spider plush here" Miguel mumbled.

"But won't y/n get mad at you?" Spider byte said worryingly.

"I don't care what y/n will think! This little rodent has put me through hell and back!" Miguel yelled.

"Alright" She said as she started to prepare the go home machine.

Miguel looked on at spider plush as the giant robotic spider came out and was about to send the plush home. Until it stopped.

"Miguel O'Hara!" You screamed.

"Y/n! It- it's not what it looks like!" Miguel said.

Spider Plush saw you and started to make crying noises.

"What did you do to him! You monster! He is supposed to be your son!" You scowled.

"He was causing chaos around the whole building!" Miguel said.

"Spider Plush would do no such thing!" You yelled.

"Y/n! Please! You have to hear me out!" He pleaded.

"I think Spider Plush has been through enough already, I'm going to take him to get a nap" You said as you walked out the room with spider plush hung around your shoulder.

Spider Plush looked up at Miguel and glared at him with mischief in his eyes.

"I'm gonna get back at that little shit head" Miguel grumbled.

#male x male #mlm #male reader #malexmale #mxm #gay #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x male reader #atsv x you #spiderman atsv #atsv spoilers #spiderverse #spiderverse spoilers #astv #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spider man across the spider verse #spider man across the spiderverse spoilers #spider verse #miguel o'hara x spiderman!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #atsv #fluff #gay fluff #miguel o'hara x you

[thelordofgifs]

Ranking all the Kings of Gondor

Based on what, you may ask? Vibes. Let's go.

Eldacar. Twenty-first King. THE bestest boy in the legendarium. The hero of the Kin-strife, the archetype of immigrant child trauma, the exiled king, the vengeful father... we love him so so so much ok!!

Aragorn. First High King of the Reunited Kingdom. Yes I know your list would put him at the top but this is my list and I do what I want. Anyway he's wise and kind and "the hands of the king are the hands of a healer" and he's brave and clever and has an excellent fairy-tale romance going on and I am very much not immune to Viggo Mortensen covered in blood with unwashed hair.

Elendil. First High King. He's brave he's cool he's wise he DEFEATED SAURON. Love him.

Isildur. Second High King (co-ruler). Justice for my boy the movies did him so so dirty!! Anyway he saved the line of the White Tree and fought so so bravely and he did his best. I will not countenance Isildur slander actually.

Valacar. Twentieth King. Ranks this highly mostly because he's my blorbo Eldacar's father, but Valacar is cool! His father sent him to the Northmen to build an alliance and Valacar promptly fell in love with their chief's daughter instead. And then Vidumavi died long before he ever even became King and you have to wonder if Valacar feared he would outlive his children too :(

Aldamir. Twenty-third King. Also ranking highly mostly because of genetic proximity to my guy, but Aldamir is sooo tragic actually. He's a second son who never should have become King except his older brother was MURDERED and maybe he spent the rest of his life trying to live up to him!! Also he was also killed in battle which I am sad about. This family cannot catch a break.

Eärnur. Thirty-third and last King. This is the idiot who challenged the Witch-king of Angmar to single combat and was never seen again, but I have a soft spot for him on account of. that was really sexy.

Eldarion. Second High King of the Reunited Kingdom. We don't know much about Aragorn and Arwen's son, but movie!Eldarion is very cute which is enough to earn him a high rank.

Rómendacil II. Nineteenth King. An all-round competent guy who ruled as regent for years for first his lazy uncle and then his lazy father. Built the Argonath!! Also he's Eldacar's grandfather which again earns him points.

Eärnil II. Thirty-second King. Ended up with the crown after his predecessor and both his sons were killed in battle (although NOT his daughter. JUSTICE FOR FÍRIEL). Anyway Eärnil strikes me as a decent guy who was doing his best. Props to him for taking pains not to alienate the Dúnedain of Arthedain.

Ondoher. Thirty-first King. The aforementioned predecessor, who is mostly ranked highly because I feel bad that he died :( and he tried to ensure Gondor would still have an heir to the throne if he and his eldest son were killed! But his youngest son joined the battle in disguise and got killed anyway!

Minardil. Twenty-fifth King. Another tragic one, he was Eldacar's great-grandson and was slain in battle by the descendants of Castamir. I am upset about this.

Meneldil. Third King. We don't know much about him, but he was the first solo ruler of Gondor and also the last child born in Númenor before the Downfall, which is cool.

Telumehtar. Twenty-eighth King. Finally got rid of the last descendants of Castamir, excellent work.

Calimehtar. Thirtieth King. Defeated the Wainriders attacking Gondor in a great alliance with the Northmen, which we love to see. Also he built the White Tower of Minas Anor! Good for him.

Anárion. Second High King (co-ruler). He was initally a lot higher on the list because I feel for him always being overshadowed by his father and brother, but then I learned he was killed by a THROWN ROCK which is kind of pathetic ngl. Sorry, Anárion.

Tarondor. Twenty-seventh King. Had the unenviable task of rebuilding the realm after it was ravaged by the Great Plague, but unfortunately he moved out of Osgiliath for good (which makes me unreasonably sad. I love Osgiliath) and also allowed the watch on Mordor to lapse for good.

Eärendil. Fifth King. We don't know much about him, but his name is nice.

Anardil. Sixth King. We don't know much about him, but his name is also nice.

Telemnar. Twenty-sixth King. Died in the Great Plague, sad for him I guess.

Narmacil II. Twenty-ninth King. Slain in battle with Wainriders, made no impression on me at all.

Siriondil. Eleventh King. We know very little about him, but that's a good name.

Cemendur. Fourth King. Boring and doesn't even have a good name.

Turambar. Ninth King. Mainly this low down because THAT'S A TERRIBLE NAME WHAT ARE YOU THINKING.

Hyarmendacil II. Twenty-fourth King. Defeated the Haradrim in battle, good for him I guess.

Atanatar I. Tenth King. No personality. I don't like his name either.

Rómendacil I. Eighth King. Defeated some Easterlings in battle, but apparently not very well because they later killed him. Oh well.

Ciryandil. Fourtheenth King. A Ship-king, and I don't like Ship-kings (mostly because Castamir tried to be a Ship-king).

Ostoher. Seventh King. Didn't do much, although he started the practice of the King spending his summer in Minas Anor. Good for him? I guess?

Eärnil I. Another Ship-king. Died in a great storm, which is one of the perils associated with being a Ship-king!

Calmacil. Eighteenth King. Generally incompetent. Gains a couple of points for being Eldacar's great-grandfather.

Narmacil I. Seventeenth King. Also pretty incompetent. He let his nephew do all the work of ruling for him.

Atanatar II. Sixteenth King. Lived in indolence and splendour, and neglected the watch on Mordor which was not very wise of him!

Hyarmendacil I. Fifteenth King. Ok he actually sucks. The King who defeated the Haradrim and instituted the practice of taking their sons as hostages to live in the court of Gondor.

Tarannon. Twelfth King. The first of the Ship-kings, also known for his loveless marriage to his wife Berúthiel who gets blamed for everything for some reason.

Castamir the Usurper. (Technically) twenty-second King. Should not be on this list and is here purely so that I can say. FUCK. THIS. GUY.

#lotr #eldacar #aragorn #elendil #isildur #valacar #not tagging all of them #this took me most of an afternoon please admire

[i-cant-sing]

What happens to Teen Fushiguro in the Shibuya Arc after Kenjaku & Mahito kidnap her?

Ah yes, I forgot about this one. Okay, so I imagine that they take you underground or wherever their lair is and like idk... cast spells on you to keep you from using your powers against them. You continue to threaten them, hurl insults at them and they find it amusing because 1. You're a child 2. You don't even know how easily they could kill you. 3. You're a child, why are you trying to fight the boss fights??💀

Anyways, you grow on them and they do end up becoming yanderes for you too. I mean, Kenjaku is like grandfather/guardian figure to you, and if like Getou is still alive/concious inside him, then he's like an uncle/godfather figure to you. They're bothe very protective, Getou more than Kenjaku, while Kenjaku is more like those veteran granddads who want you to become the best version of yourself and be independent, so they don't help you unless they absolutely do need to step in, but nevertheless love you. And once you do learn whatever skill/lesson he wanted you to, or actually become independent, he does not want you to use those new skills or become independent and stop relying on him for "protection" (even if u don't want it in the first place) or leave him/try to replace him. Nuh uh.

Same goes for Getou too, only he's far more gentle with you. Of course he wants you to be stronger and independent too, but he's far more likely too jump in to help you way before any true harm befalls you. He's softer in his lessons, always has that gentle smile on his face as he dodges whatever attack you launch on him. Encouraging words as he pats your head while you're on the ground trying to catch your breath.

As for Mahito, he's much more like an annoying older brother who bullies you for shits and giggles but God forbid if anyone else hurts you. I mean he'd still make fun of you for getting hurt, but rest assured whoever harmed you is now obliterated.

Your time with them is spent with Kenjaku provoking you and finding whatever it is that makes you tick and then having you spar with curses or with Mahito (who takes great joy in being a jerk). And sure, compared to all of their other victims, you're in "paradise," but in reality, your mental is taking a plunge very fast. Because Kenjaku and Mahito have realised your trigger point-

Abandonment issues.

So they use that against you. Everyday, they tell you that your father left you, that Megumi never fought hard enough for you because he didn't like you, that Gojo knew Megumi had a sister but he didn't take you in with him, and that the Zenin clan did consider you a nuisance which is why they let Gojo take you to Jujutsu High, just so that Gojo can use you as a weapon.

And sure, you'd argue that none of it is true but when a lie is told enough times, it starts to feel like the truth. So with the constant feed of negative words and being cut off from the outside world, reader couldn't help but believe all those lies, and that's how her self esteem and mental health took a turn for worse. She becomes more isolated, more quiet, more... dead. She lacks the energy to fight off those curses, not even fazed as they come a little too close to actually killing you (obv Kenjaku or Mahito step in before they can). And this is the point where they think that now that they have broken you down, they can start building you up again... and have you join their side of the battle. Of course, you're still against that, just not putting any actual effort into reacting to them, but then... they bring Megumi.

Or well, Sukuna occupying Megumi's body.

You instantly recognised them both- recognised the shift in the energy, recognised the monster who was disguised as your brother and you broke down. Fell to your knees, sobbed hard enough for your body to shake until Sukuna gathered you in his arms and moved to a private space, away from prying eyes.

You cried and cried, and Sukuna didn't need you to actually say anything for him to understand. You were mourning for your brother, who you knew has a target on his back now that he was Sukuna's vessel, who wouldnt be leaving him so easily. He just patted your back and assured you that everything will be alright if you just listen to him, made you remember how he promised that he'd always be there for you, made you promise to stick by his side and nothing bad will ever happen to you.

"Sukuna?" Your teary voice croaked, the curse king hummed in response. "Promise you won't hurt Megumi? Won't let anyone else hurt Megumi?"

Despite everything, you still cared for your brother. You didn't really need him, but the way you begged... Sukuna didn't have the heart to say no.

"Okay. Only if you listen to me." You nodded, sniffling as you rested your head against his shoulder.

From there on, I think that Kenjaku will continue to help you weild your powers to become the perfect vessel for Sukuna (who has actually no intention of using you as a vessel, no he just wants you by his side for eternity, all for him to spoil and pamper). You follow Sukuna's rules, stay indoors and only come out when he let's you accompany him, sometimes he'd let you enter his domain expansion so that you could meet Megumi, who tries to convince you run for your life and don't worry about him.

Now, I like to think that a point comes when Gojo is finally free from the prison realm and is now ready to beat everyone's asses, and that's when Sukuna mentions how he has been having a good time with you, which only provokes Gojo to fucking murder him and even Megumi, before he finally decides to just beat his ass and look for you (probably when you stop Gojo from killing Megumi) and that's how Gojo ends up snatching you away as you scream for Sukuna to not kill Megumi, beg Gojo to let you go because Sukuna would kill Megumi if you're not there. And all of this sounds like Stockholm syndrome to Gojo and the gang, who again, keep you under lock and key.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere Kenjaku #yandere getou suguru #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto x reader #yandere getou #yandere geto #yandere mahito #yandere gojo saturo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere sukuna ryomen #yandere sukuna #yandere sakuna #yandere #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x reader

[after-witch]

Look I just got engaged and Im here to feed my own delusions SO (also I love your writing sm!!!)

"What on earth are you doing crashing my wedding like this?" - to Hisoka.

notes: yandere, blood, non-graphic violence

--

You're grateful for the fact that he showed up in your modest little bridal suite prior to the ceremony, rather than storming into the chapel as you were saying your vows.

He leans against the closed door--he locked it, too, you noticed--and gives you a familiar look of appraisal. There's pleasure in his eyes but something else, too. Something that is a little too reminiscent of the corner edge on a playing card.

"I'm stopping you from making a dumb mistake. You really think you're getting married to some low-tier nobody? Especially without my say-so?"

Your fist clenches in the delicate skirt of your gown until you remember how fragile it is--it belonged to your soon-to-be-spouse's grandmother--and you force your fingers to relax, smoothing out the antique lace.

"Why wouldn't I? We're in love."

Hisoka doesn't say anything for a moment.

Then he throws his head back and laughs until tears form in his eyes. They smudge his eyeliner.

"You might love them, darling, but I'm afraid the sentiment isn't quite returned. At least, not all that strongly. Certainly not strong enough for a wedding."

He wants you to ask. You don't want to ask.

But you do, anyway, because that's the game you've played with Hisoka for years. And he knows you always cave in.

"What do you mean?"

Hisoka pushes himself away from the door and approaches you. You know better than to run; the sticky memory of Bungee Gum crawls traitorously over your skin.

He doesn't stop until he's invading your space, until you've got nowhere to go unless you climb on top of the vanity behind you and use it as a seat.

"You do look pretty," he murmurs, leering down at you. "Are you wearing something nice underneath, for the honeymoon?" He leans in closer, a hand going to the fabric of your dress. "Can I check?"

You grimace and consider jabbing him with an eyeliner pencil left on the table behind you. It's not worth it--you might get some on your dress. You settle for smacking his hand away, and he lets you, pouting his lips at the pretend hurt.

"Hisoka. Answer my question."

Hisoka gives you one more appreciative glance before he grins.

"Ah! That. My dear, they began running the very moment I killed the priest at the alter. Didn't even try to help the old man." He grinned and ran a finger through his hair; a card appeared in his fingers and he flipped it back and forth. "I generously told them I was going for you next, and you know what they did?"

"Shut up!" You press your hands over your ears, but it doesn't blot out his words--the thought of the dead priest bleeding out--it doesn't blot out Hisoka.

"They ran out of the church and didn't even look back."

It's your wedding day and your priest is dead and the love of your life left you to die.

"Someone," you force out, voice croaking, mind scrambling for purchase on some bit of hope. "Someone else will come for me." Your mind frantically races over the guest list. Your future father-in-law, he would surely come running up the stairs. Or your uncle and your cousins. Or your friends. One of the other priests at the church, who would do anything to save an innocent like you.

"Oh, sweetness." Hisoka's voice is thick with honey.

He leans in close and brushes the flat end of the card against your cheek. There's something warm and wet on it, and a metallic tinge forces its way into your nostrils.

"What makes you think anyone is still alive down there?"

#yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hisoka #hisoka x reader #yandere #afterwitch writes #requests are closed just doing old ones

[misguidedasgardian]

The Winter Sun (FINAL EPILOGUE)

FINAL

MASTERLIST

Summary: Your family in King’s Landing…

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: Xk

Notes: ay ay ay, sorry for that, I swear Aemond is not coming back, it's just a scene I had in my head for forever, and I had to get it out of my chest, he can’t do anything and won’t do anything, he is fucked. 

Anyways, this is it, the END, for this amazing story, I thank all of you who read this and gave this story their love, its been an amazing ride, and i can’t believe the reach we accomplished, anyways I’m going to miss writing this fic, because I liked how it turned out, and it was my comfort.. Thanks to all of you! and see you in my next story!

I'm crying as I write this :(

The castle was roaring with life, the great families had arrived, and even though it was a bit tense because of the loyalties of the past wars, people were trying to heal, to leave everything behind them 

Even though you didn’t like the idea, all your children were to their own machinations, you knew the castle was the safest palace, but you still felt a bit uneasy to let your girls walk around alone, but you sent a King’s guard with them. 

Rhaenys found a beautiful spot in the gardens, she was enjoying the smells and the beautiful flowers in the gardens, and took her notebook with her to draw

She saw from the corner of her eye some people approaching, once she raised her head, she saw that it was two young men, probably her oldest brother’s age

“Well, hello my lady”, Rhaenys saw them approaching and gave them all her attention, smiling at them and waving gently, “How are you this day?”, she could not hear them, not answer them, so she just smiled and nodded, “well?”, the man insisted

It was a young man, heir to House Baratheon, the son of a cousin to the lata Borros, and his friend from House Trant.

She smiled apologetically, trying to communicate with him with her hands, but the guy wouldn’t understand her 

“She is an idiot, she might be dimwitted”, laughed the Trant boy

“Well, I don’t need her to be smart”, the other one laughed, “its enough that she is a Targaryen”, he said looking down at her

She could not speak, or hear, but she was really good at reading lips, so she could understand what those boys said about her. She whimpered, tears filling her eyes. She stood up from the bench and ran away from them, unknowingly, her Great Uncle Corlys had heard the whole thing, and pursed his lips in disgust 

“Get Rickon and Jonaerys”, he said to one of his faithful servants who walked with him at his old age, the boy nodded and ran to get the boys. 

Once the young Velaryon spotted the two Starks, he led them back to Corlys, and the old man told them what happened with Rhaenys and the Baratheon, to see their reaction, and it didn't disappoint. A hunt began for the baratheon cunt, as they call it

“Its him!”, pointed the Velaryon boy, and the Baratheon saw with horror how by the corner of the Hallway appeared two enraged Stark-Targaryen running towards him.

“Son of a bitch!”

“I will kill you!”, they used the fact that they were near a balcony… they grabbed him between the two of them and pushed him towards it

The Baratheon boy was screaming, so scared he almost peed his pants as Jonaerys and Rickon grabbed him by the arms and legs and swung him over the rail.

But they wouldn’t really kill him, they didn’t let go of him as he swang heads down and could look in terror five stories down

“You think you can insult our sister?”, growled Rickon as he shook him

“No! No! I’m sorry!”

“If you ever go near her again I will kill you!”, threatened Jonaerys

“You are not good enough for her!”, said Rickon then, and the Baratheon only promised and begged to be lifted up 

They finally relented and the poor boy scrambled to get to his feet and ran away, stumbling away through the corridor.

Corlys just looked at the scene, smiling and pleased, no one is to mess with little Rhaenys, she was not dim-witted, she was smart, only had a hearing impair

“Your sons are savages!”, said Baldric Baratheon, pointing at Cregan Stark, “they threatened the life of my son and heir Crispian”

“I’m sure they were just… boys being boys”, he explained, “you remember what that’s like”, he said

“Do you consider grabbing him and swinging him over a balcony just “boys being boys”?”, he asked, and Cregan turned to meet the eyes of his two sons

They both started talking at the same time

“That cunt called our sister dim-witted!”

“He bothered Rhaenys, and called her names!”, they explained at the same time

“What?”, growled Cregan, turning to the shivering boy hiding behind his father

“Those are just words, your pups almost killed my son!”, fighted the Baratheon. He was right, he was deserve to be pushed out of the balcony, but the Baratheon was enraged, Cregan looked at Jacaerys who was there to serve as an judge in this situation

“The boys should wait outside”, he suggested, and with a nod from Cregan’s head his boys left the room, the Baratheon soon followed

“Your grace”, called the Baratheon, “my son was almost killed”

“My daughter was dishonored”, said Cregan

“Reparations must be made”, continued the Baratheon, and Cregan looked at him in panic

“This is a new country, for all of us”, started Jacaerys, “we are enjoying a period of peace, and we must keep it so, two great families cannot by divided”, both men nodded, agreeing to his words

“So I propose a union”, said the Baratheon, Cregan just looked at him, “between your youngest, your silver-haired girl, and my son and heir”

“The silver-haired?”, said Cregan with disgust, “you don’t even know her name! you only care that she looks like a Targaryen don’t you?”, he asked, “over my dead fucking body my pup will marry that talking twig you have for a son!”

“Stark!”, growled Baldric

“Enough!”, called Jacaerys, both men stopped and looked at the Prince, “we will not leave this room until this animosity is behind us”, you finally dared to speak, as you had entered the room slowly and silently

“I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding”, you said softly, all three men turned to look at you, “from what I gather, Lord Crispian did not know of our daughter’s hearing impediment”

“He called her dim-witted”, you only shook your head

“And our sons threatened to throw him off a balcony, I think he learned his lesson”, you said softly. You wanted to kill the boy as much as your sons did, but you could not cause a war between houses because of it, you knew House Baratheon was just returning to the fold after their allegiances in the war 

“Very well”, said Jacaerys, and the Lord of the Stormlands nodded, not contented but he realized a marriage alliance wasn’t in the cards for this meeting, and the girl was still young, of twelve name days only

“Over my dead body any of my pups will marry a Baratheon!”, grunted Cregan as soon as you entered your chambers

“Maybe one day a Stark could be friends with a Baratheon”, you suggested, “only friends” 

“Never”, grunted Cregan, “not even after a hundred years”, you only giggled, but nodded, “and he believed that skimpy kid could be a good match for OUR DAUGHTER!”, he said, again outraged, “the audacity! the words of his house should be… “Ours is the audacity””, he mocked again, and you couldn’t help but giggle, “What?”, he was angry, but smiled nonetheless, to you, he would always smile

“You are cute when you get frustrated like that”, you suggested, and he smirked, “They won’t marry”, you said softly, to calm him, it worked

“I know I know, but still… the audacity of that man”, he growled, and you couldn’t help but giggle again. You watched the frame of your husband walk around the room like a wolf in a cage, and you loved the fact that several layers of clothes were missing, well, it was summer and they were in the south, he no longer wore his cape and his thick vest, only a light black doublet over a thin chemise 

He was so handsome

He stopped when he saw your eyes blown out like those of a kitten, he knew that look… He only smiled

Years had passed, his dark hair now had a bit of snow in it, he had lines in the corners of his eyes, and lines cutted his face, laugh lines you hoped. He never looked so handsome.

“Come here”, he whispered, and you obliged, “I love to see you all lady-like”, you, as did he, dressed differently in the capital, preferring colorful dresses made of silk, of tull, or other thinner fabrics. 

He was delighted when his hands could feel your skin even though the thin layer of clothing. 

“And I love to see you in your southern look too”, you teased

Oh and you loved each other right that evening

You and Cregan, besides attending tourneys and banquets, needed to held meetings with other Lords of the Kingdoms, specially from the Reach, to gather more supplies for the coming Winter 

Meanwhile your children would enjoy a life in the Keep.

Besides seeing on first row how knights would sung at eachtoher with long wooden spears, which they all enjoyed...

Corlys reached Rhaenys, intrigued by the little girl you had named after your dear aunt, he would gift her books and she would beam at him, until he had her teach him how to communicate with her, and they would spend whole afternoons communicating, telling each other stories, specially Corlys, since he had seen so much from his journeys, Orys would join them, interested more than anyone in the life Story of the Sea Snake

To those who were close to the sea snake, would say that his great niece and nephew brought light back into him, to the 76 year old man who thought he had lived it all 

Those same afternoons would find Rickon, Jonaerys and Baelor practicing their swordsmanship in the courtyard. 

Daemon would look from the battlements, with a critic eye, to be exasperated enough by the young men that he would get hands in with their training, dismissing the King’s guard 

Daemon was a practical man, and he took no time in naming Jonaerys as his favorite successor, he would also give incentive to the lordling to have some time with his darling daughter Visenya, who would also watch them train.

Baelor and Visenya were supposed to be betrothed to one another, but they loved each other as siblings and rejected the union, and Daemon would happily get his nephew betrothed to his daughter instead.

Baelor found himself also learning how to communicate with Rhaenys, because he believe her to be the most beautiful girl he had ever seen

You spend half a year in the Red Keep, and it was blissful, but Cregan wanted to return, with joust reason, and, with  bit of fear, you started to believe Jonaerys wanted to stay, he turned into a squire for Aegon the young, and he would practice everyday with Daemon and the King’s guard, you didn’t say anything, but you just started preparing mentally for your son to tell you he wanted to stay here, back up by Daemon no less.

So when you communicated the Queen, and her King consort, of your departure in the next two weeks, it was no surprised that Daemon would cling into your second eldest son, but what surprised you the most, was most certainly Baelor’s decision 

“I want to go with them”, said Baelor, and you looked amazed, surprised, the responsibility was huge

“Are you sure?”, asked Jace, Baelor only nodded

“I would love to squire for Lord Cregan, I believe is for the best, what of Princeling would I be if I don’t… fly off the nest? see the Kingdoms one day I will rule, learn how to be a Lord, a fighter, to care for other people?”, Cregan was pleased, as he placed his hand on his shoulder

“We will care for him”, your husband promised, and Jacaerys only nodded. The decision was made, so we had two weeks to prepare after Jonaerys told Cregan what you already knew, that he wanted to stay here, in the Red Keep, in King’s landing, with his seventeen name days already.

You had your dragons, he could return anytime he wished. 

So when the time came to say goodbye, and your last day in the capital, you hugged Jonaerys tightly against you

“You can always come back, you know? in your dragon”, you whispered, tears in your eyes

“Yes mom”, he whispered back, “But I want to do this, there is something that wants me to stay here, and I must follow my heart”, you only nodded, caressing his handsome face

“I love you”

“I love you too”, you then stepped aside for Cregan to come near his son and hugged him tightly against him

“Your mother is right, your home will always be in Winterfell”, he whispered, and Jonaerys hugged him tightly 

“Thank you father”, he whispered back.

You saw him take two steps back and stand right next to Visenya and Daemon, who had come to say goodbye to you in the docks. 

Corlys suggested taking you up to White Harbor himself on his ship, only because he wanted to spoil Rhaenys and Orys, unbeknownst to you. He believed Orys would have liked the sea as much as he did, and in the end, he was right. 

So he invited you all to stop by Driftmark.

Your children loved sailing, Torrhen would not stop drawing parts of the ship that impressed him the most, Rhaenys and Orys would stuck by Corly’s side as he barked around orders to his sailors, Cregan and you would gaze upon the horizon, and Robyn would be riding her dragon over your heads, as she used to do. Your darling daughter had an adventurous soul, she would spend more time in dragonback that she would on firm land, she had flied over to the wall, to bear island, everywhere, even without your permission, and you had no doubt that in this journey, all those times you couldn’t find he, she had been flying in every direction to see what was out there, you feared that when she was older she was going to fly away and never come back. You could see she wanted to see across the narrow sea and beyond… 

When you arrived in Driftmark you met Joffrey, who was acting as Lord of the tides, he inherited the title after Luke’s death all those years ago, and apparently, he was doing a great job, he had married a Velaryon girl, and had children of his own. You spend some days there, where Corlys would gift your daughter jewels that used to belong to his long lost wife, and you would gaze upon the treasures in his hall, treasures from all over the world, certainly capturing the attention of your five remaining children.

Soon after, you sailed to White Harbour, where you had to fight hard to take your daughter and son back from Corlys’, they wouldn’t want to part ways, so the Sea Snake ended up accompanying you back to Winterfell, since his late wife Rhaenys couldn’t fulfill that promise she once made to you, he was there to be the grandfather your children never had. But there, you were also accompanied back with the Mnderlys and their daughter, who was set to marry Rickon, their daughter was beautiful, and the same age as your son, she was a sweet girl and you knew they were going to be very happy, as your son started courting her on the road, gifting her things he found, like flowers and such. 

Winterfell looked as beautiful as it was when you first saw it, and you could finally breathe at ease. You looked back at your children and you found them happy they were back, but you knew some of them were going to grow bored after everything they lived in the capital. except for Baelor, who looked at the ancient castle like you probably did when you saw it for the first time.

When you gazed at the ancient building, you  truly believed it had been here for thousands of years, and it was going to stand for another thousand, after you and everyone you knew turned to dust. 

You were received with awaiting arms by the people of Winterfell, and the people of Winter’s Town that came out to receive you amongst cheers. 

Soon you were installing yourselves back into the castle after more than half a year away. But you wandered out of the castle, into the tallest battlements, so you could see the valley around the castle, the winds were getting colder by the day…

Winter is coming…

“I remember when you arrived here”, Cregan whispered as he hugged you from the back, you giggled, “it was autumn, just like right now, in a day just like this one, you appeared through the doors, your dragon behind you”

“I offered myself to you in marriage”, you remembered fondly

“I remember I said to Sara years before that the only way I was going to marry again was if a maiden came flying up here”, you chuckled, and he did too, kissing you in the side of the face

“Would you look at that”, you admired, and he chuckled again. You turned around to look at him

“it was always you”, he whispered. Looking down at you and caressing the apple of your cheek with his thumb, “my sweet wife, the one that gave up everything for an uncertain future in the wild North, alongside an old and grumpy wolf”

“It was never uncertain, it was always you”, you repeated his words. And you sealed your words of love with a long kiss. Expressing all your happiness with an intimate gesture. 

That first Winter you spent together was what brought you together, and the wilderness and cold of the North is what kept you together.

For Cregan you were the sun that shone even in the darkest of Winters. The dragon that with his flames light up the hearths of his home and his heart

You were his Winter sun

Jacaerys reigned the seven Kingdoms after his mother, it was a short but fruitful reign. He died after ten years of a heart condition

Rickon married Jayne Manderly, they had four children to continue the line of House Stark, and lived in Winterfell until his lasts days

Jonaerys stayed in King’s Landing, but always flied back to Winterfell to see his brother and his parents, he married Visenya, together they had a set of twins, a girl and a boy, and lived in Dragonstone happily

Torrhen became a builder, reinforcing buildings all across the North, he married a Mormont from Bear Island

Orys became Joffrey’s squire, and together they went into many adventures, into the sea and Driftmark, he later married a Velaryon girl and lived in Driftmark

Rhaenys married Jace’s son Baelor, many years after she will become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and gave the realm three children and heirs who continued the Targaryen Line

Robyn at first visited his brother Orys and accompanied him in his travels, she then adventured herself as an explorer in the back of her dragon, she traveled all over the world and seen things no other man of Westeros had, unknowingly continuing the legacy of Corlys and Rhaenys. In her journeys, she came across a Celtigar, and she married him, coming back to live in Westeros, much to her family’s delight. 

Sara had three children of her own, and alongside her stepdaughter, she lived happily in Torrhen’s square 

Reader and Cregan lived happily in Winterfell, fearing when their children left their home, but other than that, they lived happily, spoiling their grandchildren rotten. 

And everyone lived happily ever after 

FIN

taglist, one last time!

@severewobblerlightdragon @missusnora @stargaryenx @poppyreader @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepicker 

@lyannesworld @arujee @kamisunshine @​​mss-nthng @partypoison00 @grimistangel @elleclairez @may-machin @prettykinkysoul @justagurlwithships @champomiel 

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @zoleea-exultant @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @zoleea-exultant @llleon666 @dark-night-sky-99 @bitchigoteverythingissues @harrypotteranna23-blog

@esposadomd @ajanauia @phantomtea19 @let-love-bleeds-red @kishie8 @dreamingofyourmoons @esposadomd @sandronebabyy @kemillyfreitas @​​trifoliumviridi @dreamingofyourmoons @darling-jace @biblichorr @ivvypg @mendes-bae @borikenlove @tssf-imagines @praline357 @alitaar @prettykinkysoul @aelora-a @a-mexican-waffle @ateliefloresdaprimavera @alexa4040 @lrboyd @anditsmywholeheart  @weaselyss  @scarlettqueen190 @deeeeexx @cloudroomblog @dreaming-of-the-reality @yentroucnagol @crazymusicgirl104 @toodlesxcuddles @thanyatargaryen @mxtokko @bellstwd  @elaena-aerrin @glaciuswduo @holb32

#misguidedwinter #cregan stark x reader #cregan #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan x you #hotd cregan #cregan x y/n #targaryen!reader #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #house targaryen #house stark

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 15/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

hooo weee this is a long one. A reaction chapter part 1

A few things to clear up:

Sir Pentious is in Heaven

They do not know that yet.

He'll have a part in the sequel!

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

Charlie is beyond worried.

She and the entirety of Pride sat in anticipation as Hell's highest powers perform the ritual again. Her dad disappeared a month ago and in his absence, she thinks she had handled Pride rather well. Vaggie and her friends were a big help though, as well as her uncles and aunts if they could.

Charlie has not missed once broadcast ever since it aired. Every time she looks for her dad among the demons and every time she's disappointed.

She keeps watching anyway in support- no matter how busy she was. The hotel residents do the same, dropping what they were doing to all sit in the couch together and watch this 'til it ended. The first time it aired created a mass panic that Charlie had to induce a Hellshake to placate her people. It somehow worked.

After the panic, it became the biggest hit "show" in Pride, resulting in the production of legit merch and even a few parodies- like it's just a game, like this can't kill them all.

That craze lasted almost 2 weeks but even the fanatics stopped watching when it was apparent that this wasn't a quick fix. Panic again then calm then panic- over and over and over again.

Vaggie: Babe?

Charlie: Hey, Vaggie.

Charlie tried to give her lover her usual smiles but she thinks she haven't given one ever since her dad left. Worry and guilt are eating her whole and she's just trying to stay afloat.

Vaggie: Hey, come on. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?

Charlie: Flatterer.

Vaggie: Not wrong though. But don't try to change the subject. .. Is it about your dad?

Charlie: I don't think I remember a time in a hundred years when it wasn't. When did it go so wrong, Vaggie? We were so happy when I was a kid..

Something inside the princess whispered her mother's name. She shakes off that thought because there's no way. Her mom and dad loved each other.

'But then why did they split? Why did your mom leave? Why did your dad fall in love with someone again?'

The voices are making a point but there's no chance her dad was going to tell her everything and it's not like her mom is even an option.

When Vaggie told her that Alastor and her dad were something, she tried to think of every moment she saw of her dad and the radio demon together after the hotel was rebuilt. The princess of Hell trusts Alastor but she doesn't know if she can trust him with her dad.

But..

Charlie: Dad is happier.

Vaggie: Huh?

Charlie: Sorry. Was thinking of him and how Alastor is probably helping him come out more than I am.

Vaggie: Hey hey. I know your dad would be devastated if he knew you were thinking that. He loves you and you love him, right?

Charlie: More than anything.

Vaggie: That's my girl. Now why don't we-

Cherri: Holy shit! Guys! The broadcast turned on again!

All of them rushed to the lobby upon hearing the cyclops yell. They thought it was over 30 minutes ago when the nth overlord and Goetia fainted. Guess Vox was a bit afraid he would be next and turned it off to save face.

Angel: Holy shit!

Holy shit indeed. The one on the screen is none other than her dad! And a beautiful lady in white?

Husk: Who the fuck is that?

Nifty: She looks so clean! I wanna know what products she use.

Vaggie: Do you know who that is?

Charlie: Probably who dad was looking for.

Goodie: Such words! Angel, was self-preservation not included when you gave them the fruit of knowledge? Lucifer: Apparently not.

Okay, they clearly missed out on some context because her dad just arrived and he's mad. They watch as Lucifer grabs Velvette's face hard enough to bleed. Everyone is kneeling and seem to be locked in place. Husk eyes Alastor's monstrous form in the background warily.

Husk: Something happened.

Lucifer: I can't blame you. I was not the most present ruler, after all. But I thought I made something very clear when I dealt with that moth man.... I guess one example isn't enough.

One moment Velvette was struggle and the next her fucking jaw is gone!

Angel: Holy shit!

Husk: Ugh! You keep saying that. Don't you have any other words than holy shit?

Angel: 'M sorry, Huskie. But what else am I supposed to say to that huh??

Charlie's winces but her eyes are still glued to the screen as her dad summons his flaming sword and brings it down to the pink demon.

Lucifer: So, let me keep it simple. I'm Lucifer Morningstar. The creator of the first sin. The angel that damned humanity. Í̷̫̈́́͂̒̚̕͝͝͝'̶̨̛̺̤̿̀͒͛̂̿͋̄̑͆́͘͠͝M̴̝̯̖̦͍̽̎̏͆̔ ̴̛̛̄̋̈̑̓̀̓̃̄͐͗ͅŸ̷͇̙̟͈̭̥̬̻̙͔̠̱́̽̊̊ͅÔ̵̤͙͈̬̫̪͕̼͍͌̀̔͜U̴͈̼͖̯̤͌̀̀̓̾̔͆̈́̊͑͗̕͠͝R̵̨̹͍̦͒͌̋͒͆͌̄͛̓͑̔́͜ ̸̝͑̐̀̉̃͠͝F̵̞͖̮̗̗̜̯̯͔̮͒̊͒̈́̈́́̽́̂̂͑̎͝U̵̟̙̱̙̯̤̼̙͈̳̘̫͊̈̀C̷̙̞̔̅̊͌͋K̷̖͙̼̪̠̾̄̅̾͘I̵̛̩̘̜͖̩̙̿̐̽́͊́̒͆̆̎̑͗N̴̤̏̂͝G̸͋̋̍ͅ ̵̡͈̩̹̗̹̝̻̬͍̗̬̲̳̟̍͋̽͛̒̉̍͊͑̑̋̅̽Ḳ̷̡̬͔̞̱̤̬̮͉̙͇̪͛̅͊̚I̵̤͙̪̞̝͔̱͎̜̩̖̺̟͔̙͊Ṉ̵͈̤̘͚̻̙̼̓͂̌͋́̎͜ͅĢ̸̭͔͇̹̹̳̭͋̓̒͗̈́̉̈́̂̚.

They all had to avert their eyes as a giant ball of flame came down to finish Velvette off.

Lucifer: Û̶̪̌͐́̂̆͠͠n̸̛̟͕̱͍̫̘̻̣̱͈͈͇̱̜͛̓͗̏̅̇͋̒͆͊̓͗̚͠d̷̢̢̨̼̙͈̞͈͓͈͙̂̌͋̔̂̉̍̈́͆̿̈́̕͘͜͠e̵̛͍̯̫̼̫̐͛̊̒̆̉̓̊̽̓̒̒̚͘ŗ̶̨̢̧̮̜͙̪̹̯̙̪̤̠̝̓́̒̋͆̆̓̿͐̄̓̕̚̕ş̷̛̮͖̰̝̟͇͕̟̞̳̟̪̥̂̀̈́̈͗́̿̐̔̎̕̕͠t̶̮̖̭̹͓͉̪̣̦͙̖͍́͐͂̑͒̑͂̑̾̓̍̊͝ô̵̥͓̥͐̄̏̀̾̀̽̆ò̴̜͇̣̣̳͖̗̹̟̇̓͑͝ͅd̸̨̨͈͓̠͑͑̒̎̈́͘͠?̸̟̎̈

Even the sinners in the safety of the hotel nodded in fear. Lucifer made a delighted noise and with a clap, Velvette is back in one piece, albeit trembling in Vox's arms.

Lucifer: What? Do you really think I killed her? Sounds counterproductive. We still have a situation at hand and you are no use to me dead. Goodie: Up now! My sister is becoming restless.

Everyone let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. Angel collapsed to Husk's side, when did he even stand up? Nifty didn't move a muscle but her maniacal smile is gone. Cherri started fiddling with an ignited bomb out of nowhere which Angel had to move to throw.

Goodie: Remember, angel, if this fails, you must do what I have told you. Lucifer: Let's start.

Angel: Holy shit.

Holy shit indeed.

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

Part 16 will be the 2nd part of the reaction before Lucifer goes in!

Dk if I will post on Wednesday as it will be my birthday! yayy

#hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin lilith #hazbin vaggie #hazbin nifty #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin niffty #hazbin hotel cherri bomb #hazbin hotel sir pentious #radio demon #radioapple #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #duckiedeer #appleradio #alastor and lucifer #lucifer centric #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne

[harringtonstilinski]

Fallin' For You - Mitch Rapp

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Mitch Rapp x Reader Word Count: 3127 Warnings: fake dating trope, fluff, squint for angst Requested: “Mitch x Reader where they’re best friends to lovers. Fake dating trope. Mitch is trying to get Katrina back but realizes he’s in love with his best friend 🤭 And use this somewhere in the story 🥺 Omg I’d melt. “Kiss me.” “Wha—“ ” @maddie0101​ A/N: Hi, friends! I hope y'all enjoy this Mitch piece! If you like this please don’t hesitate to reblog, comment, send something into my askbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

“I need you to do me a favor.”

You looked at your best friend, confused look on your face. “I’m sorry?”

Mitch sighed, hanging his head for a moment before looking back at you. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Are you asking or telling?”

Groaned, Mitch tossed his head back. “Please, don’t play this game. It’s important.”

Laughing had the both of you looking to your right, seeing Katrina with her new boyfriend at a table not far from the couch you were occupying. Mitch looked back at you, a smile on his face before you rolled your eyes and looked at him. 

Already knowing where he was going with it, you raised your finger at him while raising your brows to say, “No.”

“Did you just pull a Stanley Tucci from The Devil Wears Prada?” he asked, deadpan expression.

Shrugging, you went back to your laptop. “So what if I did?”

“Dude, please?” Mitch all but begged.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Free tickets to my lacrosse games.” You sighed, typing something on your keyboard. “I’m a student, I get in for free anyways.”

He thought about it for a moment before snapping his fingers. “Free locker room access.”

“My uncle’s the coach. I get free access anyway.”

Mitch groaned again, resting his forehead on your shoulder. “You’re killing me, Smalls.” That earned him a chuckle from you.

“I know,” you said, turning your laptop towards Mitch to show him your screen, a picture of a restaurant you’ve been wanting to try. “I’ll do it and at the end, we’ll have a bestie date here.”

“Deal.” He held his fist out for you to bump with yours. “We’ll need rules.”

You opened a new Google Doc and typed in big letters FAKE DATING RULES. Looking at him, you were ready to type. 

Mitch thought for a moment before he said, “No sex.” Typing it, you said, “Easy. Next.”

“No kissing, and no-”

“No falling in love. Also, let’s limit the PDA to just hand holding and our normal kissing of temples and foreheads. You can put your arm around my shoulders like normal, too.”

“So, we’re just gonna add hand holding to what we already do,” Mitch stated.

“Correct. When does this faking dating shit start?” You looked past him, seeing that Katrina and her new beau were already gone. “ ‘Cause she’s gone.”

Mitch looked over at where Katrina just was, his face falling a little. Turning back to look at your screen, he replied, “Tomorrow morning. First thing after we leave your apartment.”

Sticking your hand out without looking, you felt his hand grab yours, giving you the handshake that solidified your arrangement.

“You’re the best,” Mitch said, giving you a kiss on the cheek before quickly getting up, hearing your laugh and statement of “I know” as he walked away.

He knew this was going to be the best way to get Katrina back… unless another girl came into his life before he could.

~~~

A knock sounded on your apartment door, causing a groan to escape you after you just about jumped out of your own skin. “Coming,” you half groaned, half whined, getting up from your bed.

Walking to the door, you put on your robe that you grabbed while walking out of your room. When you opened the door, you glared at the person on the other side.

“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Mitch asked, holding two cups of coffee.

“Because it’s six in the freaking morning, and my first class isn’t until eight.” Looking at the cups in his hands, you added, “And one of those better be for me.”

Mitch walked into your apartment, going straight for the kitchen. “I hate to break it to you, but it’s 7:15. I’m always here at this time on the dot.” He turned to face you, still holding one of the cups after taking a sip of each to see which one was yours. “And yes, this one's for you.”

“Bless,” you whispered, walking over to him and taking the cup from his hand. Walking back to your room, you took a sip and let him know that you’d be ready in fifteen minutes.

As he walked around your apartment, he chuckled to himself, thinking you wouldn’t be ready in that amount of time. He went into his bag, bringing out a few pictures of the two of you, putting them in random spots around your living area, kitchen and bedroom once you were clothed.

You watched him set the picture down on your nightstand, a brow raised as you applied your brow gel. “Uhm, did you switch majors to Interior Design?”

“No, why?” he asked, turning to face you, watching as you put your mascara on.

“Because you’re adding picture frames to my room. I have a friend who’s majoring in Interior Design and she rearranges my shit all the time when she comes over.”

Mitch chuckled to himself, scratching at his temple. “Well, I know Katrina comes over sometimes and we need to seem as authentic as possible.”

Sighing in defeat, you remembered your arrangement the two of you set up last night at the library as you replaced the mascara wand back in the tube. You stood and went to look for your bag, your best friend clearing his throat. Turning to face him, Mitch lifted your bag, a smirk on his face.

Grabbing it from him, you sighed out your thanks, his smartass reply of “Anything for my girl” coming from his mouth. You wanted to slap him, but decided against it as you walked out of your room and the front door of your apartment.

Mitch followed behind, closing and locking your door with the spare key he had. Knowing full well he could’ve used the key to open your apartment door, he wanted to see the look on your face when you opened the door since you weren’t a morning person.

As the two of you walked down the walkway to your first classes, you laughed at something stupid Mitch had said, putting your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. “Hey, Mitch!” you both heard, your heads turning to face the source of the voice.

Noticing Katrina walking your way with a smile on her face, you knew it was go time, voicing at such before lacing your fingers with Mitch’s, a spark crawling up your arm. As he tightened his hold on your hand, he replied to Katrina with, “Oh, hey, Katrina. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to see if–” Her words stopped short when she saw both of your hands clasped together. “Wait,” she said, adjusting her backpack strap on her shoulder. “You two are together now?”

You looked up at Mitch, seeing a smirk on his face as he released your hand to put his arm around your shoulders. “Yup,” he replied. “Been going on - what - three months now?” He looked at you, eyes going a little wide to silently tell you to play along.

The two of you hadn’t discussed the timeline of your fake relationship, so you just had to go with whatever he was saying. You did, however, remember when he told you about them breaking up about four months ago, giving him what he would think to be the perfect amount of time to get over someone.

Nodding your head, you looked from Mitch back to Katrina, wrapping your arm around his back. “Yeah, that’s right. Ya’know, we just realized that because we’ve been best friends since grade school, we’d give it a chance and it’s the best decision. Right, babe?” You looked up at him, a small smile on your face.

Mitch felt something in soul at you calling him babe. He did have a crush on you when you two were in middle school and high school, but he pushed it away with all the boys you ended up being in relationships with.

“That’s right,” he replied, the smirk still on his face. He had placed his lips against your temple, a smile forming on your face.

When you looked back at Katrina, you saw a flash of hurt in her eyes, the emotion showing on her face. “O-oh,” she stuttered. “W-well, I hope you two are happy.”

Scrunching your brows slightly, you felt bad about this arrangement at seeing the hurt on her face. You sighed, ready to tell her the truth, but Mitch’s hand on your shoulder had the words dying in your throat as he said, “We are. Thanks.”

You looked up at him, hurt in your own eyes as Katrina said, “Well, I, uhh, I guess I’ll see you two around.” Turning your attention back to Katrina, you went to say something, but noticed that she was already walking away.

“I feel terrible,” you whispered. “She seemed so sad.”

Mitch sighed, rubbing his hand up and down your upper arm. “Well, she should’ve thought about that before she broke up with me.”

“Mitch,” you said, quietly. Looking up at him through your lashes, your eyes danced between his own. “I get why you’re wanting to do this, but I feel like it’s for the wrong reason. If you wanted her back, you should’ve let her come back to you if she regretted it that much.”

He looked at you, thinking your words over before he sighed. “You’re right, but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. We’re in this now, so can we just see it to the end?”

Thinking it over for no more than a second, you nodded your head, agreeing. The only thing you wanted was for your best friend to be happy. “Yeah. Just… remember the rules.”

“No sex, no kissing–”

“No falling in love.” You took a deep breath, releasing it while whispering, “Especially that one.” What the two of you didn’t know about each other was that you both were falling hard for the other, and have been since about the tenth grade, with no chances of slowing down.

~~~

Groaning, you fell onto your back on the couch, the back of your head meeting Mitch’s thighs. “How much longer do we have to keep this up? It’s starting to get exhausting.”

Chuckling, Mitch said, “Well, hello to you, too.”

“Hi. Now, answer my question.”

He sighed, turning the page in his book. “Hopefully not too much longer.”

Rolling your eyes, you looked up at him through your lashes, looking at the bottom of his jaw. “You’ve been saying that for three months now.” Your feelings for him grew substantially during the last three months.

Truth be told, Mitch’s feelings for Katrina started to fade while his feelings for you also grew substantially. He couldn’t stop thinking about you; you were his first thought in the mornings, his last thoughts before he fell asleep at night. Some nights, the two of you found yourselves wrapped in each other’s arms after a late night study session.

“And I’m serious this time,” he retorted, looking down at you.

You chuckled, poking at the double that appeared at the angle he was looking down at. “Fatty.”

That caused a soft laugh to come from Mitch’s throat, the All-American lacrosse player poking at your nose. “You eat more than I do, so how am I the fatty?”

“Because you have a double chin and I don’t,” you stated with a smile, poking his chin again. Laughter erupted from your throat as Mitch poked your side, knowing you were extremely ticklish on your ribs. You laughed so hard that tears were forming in your eyes, gasps sounding as you tried to gain control of your breathing. “Okay, okay, okay. I surrender!”

“Ha ha! Score one for Mitch,” he said, drawing an imaginary number one in the air.

“You’re such an ass,” you chuckled, feeling Mitch’s fingers lace with yours, something he started doing more and more.

“But you love this ass.” He had a smile on his face as he looked at you, a spark in his eye that you only saw when he looked at Katrina.

You watched as he looked up from you, hearing a book shut before a chair was slid back under a table. Confused, you picked your head up to see what had gained his attention… or rather, who.

Watching as Katrina walked away, you sighed angrily to yourself, releasing your fingers from Mitch’s to sit up and grab your bag that you dropped before standing to walk away. Feeling as though you were a good distance away from Mitch, you muttered to yourself, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what anymore?”

You jumped and turned around, facing Mitch as he had a confused look on his face. Sighing, you said, “Forget it.” Turning back around, you started walking away from him again. Fingers being laced with yours had you jerking your hand back, your palm hitting your thigh as you walked back to your apartment.

Knowing that Mitch was walking behind you, you didn’t care, not wanting to have a conversation with him in front of everyone. Once you made it back to your apartment, you set your bag down on your couch, resting your hands on your hips.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, eyes closing. Tears started to form in your eyes at the thought of telling your best friend how you felt. Even after pretending to be his girlfriend for three months and saying fake confessions in front of everyone, you still felt it. You’d tell everyone that the moment you saw him, you instantly knew that he’d be the one someday, and your friends would ask if that was true and you’d tell them no, which was a lie.

Your friends knew about the arrangement, not wholeheartedly agreeing with the decision, but backing your stories up when they were around. They’d also ask when you fell in love with him, and you’d respond with what you were hoping they thought was a bogus story of a very cliche moment where the two of you were doing homework and you just looked at him, connecting the dots on cheek.

Mitch’s lacrosse buddies would ask similar questions and he would give them similar answers to yours, most of them laughing it off as they knew he still had a thing for Katrina, but what they didn’t know was the whole trying to get Katrina back thing almost worked for about a month, but when he realized his true feelings for you never left since high school, he decided to keep up with the charade for the sake of his friends. 

The moment Mitch realized he was in love with you was the moment he told you about Katrina and his relationship, and seeing how your face fell. He never wanted you to feel that way again, and since then, he’d been in love with you. Mitch didn’t want to act on his feelings towards you because he didn’t know if you felt the same way.

Now, standing in your apartment living room, staring at your back, Mitch just wondered what was going through your mind. “Can’t do what?” he asked, setting his own bag down. Honestly, he just wanted to get to the bottom of it.

“This,” you said, turning to face him. A tear streamed down your cheek as you sucked in a breath. “I can’t play pretend anymore. I can’t pretend to be your girlfriend to make your ex jealous. I can’t pretend to love you because faking it just isn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, silently agreeing with everything you were saying. “Anything else?” Scoffing, you ran a hand through your hair. “I can’t stand the fact that I’m not allowed to have sex with you because, good shit, that’s all I want to do. I can’t stand the fact that I’m not to kiss you because that’s also all I want to do. Falling in love with you? Well, fuck me, I already have. But you’re so fucking strung on Katrina that every time she’s around, you’re all fucking affectionate. Hell, even when she’s not around you’re still affectionate as fuck.”

“Well, I could say the same thing about you,” Mitch retorted. “All I do is think about you. You’re my first and last thoughts of the day. The shit with Katrina worked for the first month, but after I knew she wouldn’t come back, I realized my true feelings for someone else. That someone else being you. I like being affectionate with you because it’s just how we are. Katrina and I were hardly ever affectionate the way we are. I also want sex, to kiss you, to fall even more in love with you. I–” “Kiss me,” you stated. 

“Wha–”

“Mitchell, if you don’t put your lips against mine, I swear to shit, I will kick you out of my apartment and never let you ba–” Your words stopped at the feeling of Mitch’s lips on yours. To be honest, you were a little shocked that he would actually kiss you, even though you both confessed you wanted to kiss each other.

Mitch had cupped your cheeks when stepped closer to kiss you. He pulled back slightly, still able to feel your lips brush his as he said, “Kiss me back or else I’m walking out and never coming ba–”

Grabbing his cheeks, you brought his lips back to yours, relishing in the feeling of your lips moving in sync. Soft moans came from your throat as Mitch asked for entrance into your mouth, your tongues exploring each other’s mouths. 

When your lungs felt like they were on fire, you pulled away from him, feeling his forehead rest on yours as the two of you tried to catch your breaths. “Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Holy shit is right,” he breathed right back.

“Why did we wait to do that again?” 

Mitch chuckled, pecking your lips before opening his eyes to look at you, a smirk on his face. “Because we were young and stupid.” “We’re still young and stupid.”

“Young,” he said, pecking your lips. “Stupid.” Another peck.

“And in love,” you added. Walking away from Mitch, you went to your bag, bringing out your phone and bringing up your music app, Colbie Caillate’s Falling For You playing through the speakers, a laugh coming from Mitch as he took your hands and danced with you, a random thing he started doing with you back in middle school.

Mitch knew that being with you was going to a challenge, but it was a challenge he was willing to face… especially if it meant you two danced to this song at your future wedding reception.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: hi friends! i hope y’all enjoyed this. pls don’t hesitate to let me know what you thought in the comments, reblogs, or even my askbox.

Additional A/N: part three of wlcfl will be out when i can find a stopping point.

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

Mitch Rapp Taglist: @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @loveanii​ @good-vibes-and-glitter​

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of the creator of the late author, Vince Flynn.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on October 17, 2023

#mitch rapp x reader #mitch x reader #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan x reader

[blayresmuses]

Hello love, if you are taking requests would you pls write one on Aemond Targaryen x Y/n Targaryen (uncle/ niece) where they are enemies but definitely have a lot of sexual tension between the two. Maybe they have snuck around before and she’s scared of getting caught? Maybe he’s trapped her somewhere and they get into an argument and try to kill eachother but reader makes smartass comments like how it seems as if he’s lost one of his balls instead of his eye or how she prefers her husband to have all of his parts etc) and he starts choking her, realises she’s into it and then gets turned on himself. They end up fucking but it’s very raunchy with lots of choking, dirty talk, hair pulling etc etc

the fire you crave

summary: you’re the bane of aemonds existence and he never fails to put you in your place when it’s needed.

warnings: sexual content, degradation, choking, hair pulling

authors note: it isn’t specified that they’re related and this is quite different to what you asked for but i hope you enjoy anyway <3

your heart is thumping, betraying you completely as his steps grow nearer. aemond’s dagger is heavy in your hand, the other one tracing along the damp brick of the wall to help guide you along the corridor, buried so deeply in the castle. you understand that if he catches up to you there would be no one around to help, to guard you from that cool temper, but that’s what makes it so exciting.

you remembered his face when you managed to grab it from his side, taking his attention away from the books he so loved. somewhere behind you he whistled, as if this was just another chore he had to complete. looking behind you, you could just see the flame of the lantern he was carrying reflecting on the walls. quickly, with a wicked grin on your features, you rushed into a nook in the wall, hoping the darkness disguised you.

his footsteps seemed so slow. you held your breath, anticipation and excitement making your stomach turn. ‘why is it Y/N,’ aemond said into the darkness. you could just tell he was gritting his teeth, burning in agitation. ‘that whenever you need attention it’s me you have to come to?’

it was a good attempt you admitted. he was baiting you but you kept still, lip trapped between your teeth. the silence weighed as heavy as the blade in your palm, that sensor inside of you that went insane when aemond was near was pulsing like crazy and you knew he was close, felt his presence deep in your bones. ‘where’s your flock of suitors, hmm? can’t they keep you entertained?’

his voice sent shivers of pleasure down your spine. you adored this - being the centre of his attention, the object of his ire - even though he claimed to hate it, made his degrading comments - he loved it too, burned just as brightly for you as you did him. you pushed further against the wall, feeling the roughness scrape down your exposed back. in your imagination you could feel aemond there, breathing down your neck -

you screamed when he appeared round the corner, sneering down at you in distaste. the flame lit him up beautifully like he was some ethereal devil come to drag you down to the pits of hell. his eye was a burning pit of flame, his anger evident as he looked upon you. his free hand reached for the dagger, not bothering with your silly games.

‘where’s your manners aemond,’ you lectured with a pout. deftly you hid the blade behind you, pinning your hand between your back and the stone. ‘maybe if you’re nice i’ll give you it.’

‘you really are nothing but an attention seeking brat,’ he spat at you, taking a step towards you. it felt like the air was being sucked from your lungs, a giddy state of mind overtaking you. ‘give me it back and i won’t have your hand for stealing, how about that?’

‘beg me,’ you insisted, blinking prettily up at him in the way you knew drove him mad.

‘it’s a fair deal,’ he countered, looking away from you as if he couldn’t stand to see. his jaw clenched and you resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. ‘don’t think i won’t do it. i’m sure i’ll still find uses for you, with or without your hand i still wouldn’t be able to escape your whorish pestering.’

you desperately wanted to hate him, wanted to hate the constant spew of filthy words he threw in your direction. it only excited you further, dragged you down into a never ending rabbit hole of lust and hatred and desire. ‘you claim to hate me but here you are, drawn to me like a moth to flame,’ he continued on, staring harshly down at you. ‘what are you going to do when i’m married off hmm? take yourself down to the street of silk every night?’

you bristled at the blatant insult. you weren’t some needy little girl, following after him. he pushed and pulled as much as you did. ‘don’t worry, my precious girl,’ he cooed condescendingly, running his fingers through your hair. ‘you know i wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. i’m sure one of my guards would love a pretty little wife like you. i don’t think they’d even care that you’ve been broken in.’

you moved so quickly that he dropped the lantern in shock. it clattered to the floor, the noise echoing through the halls as you aimed the dagger at him, attempting to jam it in the space between his neck and shoulder. you knew deep down it wouldn’t work, he made quick work of grabbing it from you and throwing it on the ground.

then his hand was around your throat, lightly at first just so he could see your eyes widen, the little bit of fear creep into them. ‘did that hurt your feelings?’ he growled at you, backing you against the wall until your neck was stretched as far as it could go just so you could look at him. ‘or is it jealousy that’s made you do something so fucking stupid?’

‘as if i’d want to marry you aemond,’ you countered. both of your breathing had picked up and you did your best to ignore the cravings you had to be close to him, to have him sate your desires the way only he could. his forehead lowered to yours and his lips were so close you almost lost the ability to speak. ‘i like my men to have all of their parts. from what i make of it you lost an eye and your balls.’

immediately his grip tightened further, completely cutting off your air way. you tried to gasp but failed - you could only gaze into his eye, watch the emotions swirl around. you should have concentrated more on your own, felt that needy ache between your thighs intensify at the feeling of being so under this thumb. you wanted it to mark you, wanted to carry a piece of him with you everyday, you loved being at his mercy so much a choked moan rose from your throat.

‘you’re enjoying this aren’t you?’ aemond grumbled. he was wearing that god awful smirk now, eyes alight with amusement at your state. ‘you pretend to be a lady but look at you - you’re sick.’

his voice was like liquid fire, turning your nerves to mush. you struggled to move your hand, aemond groaned when you made contact with his cock, squeezing more roughly than you should have. ‘i’m sick?’ you managed to croak out. ‘you’re the one who’s aroused by choking a lady-’

he squeezed once more, completely cutting off your air before smashing his lips to yours, so rough your head collided back with the wall. bewildering, overwhelming, you tugged at his hair, twirling strands of it around your finger then yanking until he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth. his hands tore at the bodice of your dress, tearing through the clasps and exposing your breasts.

he bent before you and you took the respite for air, your chest shuddered and you found yourself pinned before his gaze, somewhat softer now than what it had been. ‘why does it have to be you that makes me feel like this,’ aemond murmured, leaning his forehead against your thigh as he yanked your dress the rest of the way down and helped you step out of it.

it was a soft action, one that left your heart a puddle on the floor by his feet. coupled up with those words - it left you a shaking mess, still struggling to breathe because you were so frustratingly enamoured by him. ‘quiet now, are we?’ he queried, leaving a kiss by the side of your knee. it was when he treated you like this you imagined the future, could imagine being married to him, you didn’t bother imagining him being happy about those ideals though. ‘we’ll have to change that won’t we?’

he gripped the plush skin of your thigh, you watched as he admired the way your soft skin gave way before him, watched him take his fingers off to admire the red finger marks he left behind. aemond guided your thigh over his shoulder and you gulped at the strange vulnerability that overtook you - no matter how many times he did it you didn’t think you’d ever be comfortable with the intensity of it, the intimacy of having him so close to you. ‘you’re beautiful,’ he praised, his voice hoarse. ‘and you’re all mine. my little whore aren’t you?’ you nodded, arching your back when he bit down on your hip, taking the tender skin between his teeth.

kisses were placed over the sore spot, soothing it with his tongue. you were lured into it, letting the pleasure overtake you before you yelped when he spanked your clit, a burning pleasure taking over your whole body. ‘say it. i want to hear you say it.’

‘i’m yours aemond,’ you whispered. his possessive, obsessed side gave you butterflies. it was what you thought of before bed, the dominating words he murmured to you in these sacred moments. he rewarded you by kissing the inside of your thigh, softly sucking the skin into his mouth. ‘are you scared you can’t perform?’ you asked cheekily, breaking the tension. ‘you’re really taking your time.’

he hummed before chuckling darkly and your back arched against his grip impatiently. ‘you need to learn the act of patience, pet,’ aemond replied, not bothering to hide the bite in his voice. it was if you’d interrupted him during his favourite hobby, as if having you was something he should savour rather than rush. you blushed and moved your hips again, enjoying the bite of his fingers into the skin of them. ‘i was willing to warm you up but since you want to be such an impatient slut we’ll just skip to good part.’

aemond stood, loosening his breaches and pulling his cock out. your greedy fingers pulled at his tunic, urging it off of him so you could feel his bare skin, bring his chest close to yours. he smirked but didn’t comment, merely tugged your ear lobe between his teeth and adjusted your thigh around his waist. ‘you didn’t need warmed up did you? can fucking feel you coating me already.’

he ran the tip of his cock up and down your slit, gathering the wetness until you were almost losing your mind. aemonds self control never managed to surprise you, especially when he started tapping against your clit making you jerk in his arms. ‘i’m starting to think you really lost your balls-’

before you could resist his fingers were in your mouth, pushing down on your tongue and that’s when he pushed himself in. not slowly, you didn’t deserve that, he sheathed himself completely, not bothering to let you adjust to the size of him. the sting was bitter and you moaned around the digits in your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

‘yeah that’s it, good girl,’ aemond praised, eyes glued to where the two of you were connected. he watched as he disappeared into your slick, coming back out covered in you, heard the lewd noises - it drove him mad in the best way. ‘take it and don’t say a word.’

you didn’t, simply raked your nails as hard as you could down his back, enjoying the harsh thrust he gave you in return. wet fingers trailed down your chin until his hand was a necklace around your throat yet again, you met his eye and he squeezed, a determined look on his pale features. he went for your mouth but you twisted, not wanting to get this confused with something it wasn’t - an act of intimacy and genuine love.

‘come on pretty girl, give in to me. give in to your prince.’ you tried to resist, focused solely on the scrape of his cock against your walls, the hand around your neck. your cunt took him in without questioning, welcoming the pleasure, the heady sense of mind it gave you but his mouth was right there, you wanted to taste him. you felt the fire dying out in you like it always did. you fell impossibly further into his arms, let him capture your mouth.

you felt him pick you up fully and you tightened your legs around his waist, drawing him in closer. you felt the clammy skin that pressed against you, the subtle grind of his lower torso against your clit. the rough stone ravaged your back but you didn’t complain, just moaned his name into the hotness of his mouth. the new angle had him rocking straight into your spot as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling harshly as if that gave him some semblance of control. ‘oh it’s perfect -’ the words were stuttered, bitten out as if he truly was losing it. you were glad because you felt the same like some dam waiting to burst. ‘and it’s all mine, perfect cunt just for me.’

aemond felt you tightening and he could only grin, completely drunk on the delicious way you spasmed around his length. ‘do you like that Y/N? i think you do. you pretend to hate me but you love that i can get you like this. you belong to me. never forget that.’

you knew it deep in your bones. he’d ruined you for any man so you just let yourself enjoy the moment, let yourself be taken closer to the edge as this thumb rubbed your clit. it didn’t take long, merely a minute or two for you to near the precipice of orgasm. you could tell he was close too, biting down on your shoulder to keep his noises in. ‘say it,’ he groaned. ‘say it or i won’t let you finish.’

your stomach sank at the request although you’d learned to expect it. he asked it of you every time though he never bothered to return the sentiment. the words made you feel ill. to leave yourself so vulnerable for him, it was the most difficult thing you could do but as close as you were, your body was preparing to finish, you craved it. so you shut your eyes and whispered what he wanted to hear.

‘avy jorrāelan, aemond.’

one deep thrust and you were falling over the edge, aemond following. his lips found yours during, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth so softly you wanted to scream. he let you cling to him in the moments after, let you shudder in his arms as he rubbed the sore skin of your back. it was too much you thought, so you unraveled yourself from him and watched as he put himself back to rights.

the silence was deafening in the aftermath. as if you had to be modest, you picked up the scraps of your gown and held them over yourself. ‘why do you make me say it?’

aemond didn’t answer, just kept on sorting himself. you felt the chance slipping through your fingers. you didn’t care how desperate or needy it was to ask, to want answers. you felt broken apart, like he’d opened you up and looked inside then decided you weren’t worthy and shut you back over. before you realised it there were tears in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling. ‘you never say it back,’ you murmured and you hated how truly sad you sounded.

‘don’t act like you meant it,’ aemond snapped but even he looked emotional, seeming more content to look at the floor than at you. ‘you say it because i ask you to, not because you want to. it means nothing.’

you shook your head, the tears flowing freely as he turned on his heel and left. he didn’t even take the dagger, just left you standing in the fading flame. you picked it up, ran your finger down the silver blade, knowing already you’d keep it like a memento, like it was a piece of him to keep.

avy jorrāelan, aemond. i love you, aemond.

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen

[bonefall]

My birthday was a couple days ago, and I got to see my bio dad for the first time in a while. He surprised me with the fact that I have a little half-sister, whom I've never met and who was adopted about two years back. So, I wondered if any situations in BB mimic this or have a theme of "secret siblings" or "secret family"? Sorry if this is a weird ask; this blog is honestly just such a cool little place and I love the way you approach the subject matter and take the flawed misogynistic foundation of the WC books and make them so much better (JUSTICE FOR BUMBLE!!!). I've also learned a lot about healthy and unhealthy relationships here and am really glad for your deep dives on Squilf and Bramble. Thanks, Bones!

Not weird at all! I really like exploring all the little nooks and crannies of complicated familial dynamics. I think one of the untapped strengths of WC (that the writers seem to be unaware of) is how their MASSIVE cast allows them to present all sorts of unique dynamics. So I like to pick up on it, since they don't.

For secret siblings...

I'm pretty heavily leaning towards Ambermoon being adopted by Wildfur, as a surrogacy. Something feels correct about it. Especially since Icecloud is getting retooled into a post-Battle of the True Eclipse birth, and a major supporting character in AVoS-era stories as a friend of Alderheart.

Thinking about it, I should zoom in and expand this. Maybe have Icecloud, somehow, acquire forbidden knowledge that would invalidate the Queen’s Rights and he (transman) struggles with if he's going to use it to expose his parents as an excuse to help Ambermoon.

(Especially since Ambermoon and Icecloud are basically nothing alike. Amber is independent, bold, and vain. Ice is jessie pinkman big-hearted, disorganized, and deceptively meek if you look past his "chill" demeanor)

But that's wip-- there's also Breezepelt and the Three, who are going to have an actual friendship. In particular I can't unsee Breeze and Lion having a deep one. I know I commit the Cardinal Sin of borderline himbo-ifying Lionblaze in BB, but I can't help it.

Hollyleaf ended up nabbing a bunch of his most violent roles to make her villainous descent smoother narratively, so BB!Lionblaze's story ends up being more focused on Ashfur's abuse, comic relief with cats in other Clans (something that the very serious Jay and Holly have a hard time providing), and the emotional fallout of the big reveal and Bramblestar's turn on them. Breezepelt slots neatly into that.

They were friends. Lionblaze's whole life came down around the reveal, everyone looking at him and his siblings differently, like they're suddenly something terrible. Why can't we find a silver lining, Breezepelt? Why can't we call ourselves brothers if the whole world is going to do it anyway? So much is changing, but THIS doesn't have to, we will take their weapon and turn it to armor, my ally, my friend, my brother.

(and when Breezepelt is lashing out at the three because of the Dark Forest's influence, Lionblaze is there, taking the blows and trying not to give in to the impulse to send him flying with a single paw)

There's also Harespring and Kestrelflight of WindClan and Owlclaw of ShadowClan. All of them are from a single litter between Whitewater and Mudclaw. She was going to raise the three of them alone as ShadowClan cats, but when the sire was smote, Whitewater felt they were cursed.

She was able to give the oldest two to their bio-uncle, Torear, but the weather was so bad that day and the runt was so sickly and small that it surely would have killed him. I don't think Owlclaw ever finds out why his mother always treated him with suspicion, but it did mess him up horribly.

Over in BB!DOTC, Thunder Storm is getting more half-siblings earlier. Clear Sky and Falling Feather had two daughters-- Pale Sky and Tiger Sky.

I want to explore the way that the various stages of Clear Sky's life acted on his kids. How any little curiosity Thunder Storm had about the life he might have had if he wasn't abandoned is crushed by seeing kittens who weren't. How Clear's favoritism of his oldest child set the trio against each other from the start. How this idea of "love" is toxic yet intoxicating.

It feels good to be the golden child. The power it gives you over his sycophants is satisfying. To know you, and you alone, have what someone else craves. Problem is, that's conditional, and it's cruel.

What Thunder Storm learns from his time with his biodad is that Clear Sky is not his father at all. He's taught him exactly what he DOESN'T want to be. There may be similarities-- in temperament, in physical prowess (though BB!Thunder is three-legged, he's still ripped), in taste and senses. But Thunder Storm's father is Shaded Flower.

(BB!Gray Wing died in the first book, rescuing Shaded Flower from being trampled by a horse. Xey're a patron of wisdom, Shaded Moss is taking the role of fatherhood to Thunder)

His sister is Rainswept Flower. His mom is Bright Storm. If there was a bond he could have had with Tiger Sky and Pale Sky, it dies simply and cruelly on the knife they used to cut each other out.

Pale might have wanted to mend it, she was the gentler one. But she dies in the First Battle along with her mother. Tiger Sky is too stubborn to accept any help, should Thunderstar offer it, and Thunderstar isn't in the business of begging for others to like him.

Naturally I'm lowkey obsessed with them lmao. I need to make a BB!DOTC overviewww

#I have a perspective on half siblings colored by a dynamic in my family #The generation above me has two siblings who had an awful biodad and an amazing stepdad (who did officially adopt them) #And there was nothing ''natural'' or good about how one of them was obsessed with their biodad. #It was influenced by his surroundings and did nothing but drag an incredibly toxic man back into his sister's life #Over and over #But anyway the son used to tell me ''theres no half in siblings'' #The daughter adored her halfbrother through the mother who raised them-- but was adamant that her biodad's newer kids were nothing to her #I guess I agree with the son. But not in the way he believes it #There's no half in siblings because you either Are. Or you are Not. #You have a shared experience with having that person as a parent or you don't. And that's what's unchanging. #It's not the blood; it's the sweat and tears. But anyhoo #Personal details of my life aside #Tiger Sky and Pale Sky are Clear's Dead Angel Fetus Children in-canon. I think that was Weird. #So instead I made them. Not. Dead angel fetus children.... #They're characters now lmaoo #Better bones au #I think Tiger Sky (i call her Tigs in my head a lot) is one of my favorite kit saves ever though #She's not going to be from the last litter either. I haven't picked who the mom is yet but he does have even more #At least one of those is going to make a grab at power but um. Sparrow Heart will not react Well. #BASICALLY lads I'm cooking. My revamps of the DOTC characters basically write themselves because I am very fond of them. #Clear's youngest: ''OH I JUST CANT WAIT TO BE KI-" #Sparrowstar: ''-lled.''