#modern!au

[muxshwriting]

money, money, money

modern!au Aleksander Morozova x reader

summary: marrying the heir to the morozova fortune was for so much more than the money || warnings: Baghra is a bitch || words: 1078 || masterlist

Aleksander Morozova was the prolific heir to the Morozova fortune, despite a very public argument with his mother. His grandfather, Ilya Morozova first gained fame through his inventions aimed at helping the ‘average man’. Of course, his inventions weren’t the beginning. His true wealth was stolen from the collapsing Soviet Union after Ilya took his family to America to live the dream. Nonetheless, his American dream was realised in the founding of Morozova Industries.

There was no doubting that Ilya Morozova was a very influential person in the technological industry, often being the forbearer to the most successful methods and practices. When Baghra took over the majority of Morozova Industries, she changed several things, aiming the inventions at the upper classes of society and neglecting the working class man that Ilya had once helped. These changes brought in the millions that made the Morozova’s a family name. Even Ilya couldn’t argue against his daughter’s methods, they were very rewarding.

But Baghra had fallen for a man who didn’t care about success and longevity, just the money it brought in. He married Baghra for her money but she was too in love to care. That was until he left her with a five year old Aleksander and took half of everything she worked so hard to earn.

But when Aleksander came of age and was being trained to take over the company, he held a very different view than his mother. He was much more similar to his grandfather, wanting to help everyone, not just the highest bidders. Aleksander did not keep his opinions private. He often spoke to the press about what he would like to change when he was head of the company.

Baghra hated Aleksander. He was trying to destroy everything she had created, spend all the money she had made. Ilya, on the other hand, loved his grandson and professed his wishes until his dying breath, leaving everything to Aleksander. See, despite running the company, Baghra did not own Morozova Industries. So when Ilya sadly passed away, the company and its control was immediately passed to Aleksander.

His retribution was swift and imminent. A month later, Baghra had nothing left and Aleksander had everything he wanted. Then he met you…

You, an owner to another tech company. It wasn’t anything big, but you had built that company from the ground up and perfected your craft. It was your wish to collaborate with Morozova to create and distribute your products to a wider audience than you could do alone.

You had captured his attention immediately. It wasn’t just your proposal, which encapsulated the values Aleksander valued most, but it was simply you. He asked you out for drinks after the meeting, wishing to know you better. As your collaboration continued, the drinks turned into dinners, dinners turned into evenings at your apartments (Aleksander’s penthouse and your meagre two-bed). Those evenings became something you looked forward to and they only seemed to increase in frequency. You now had a spare change of clothes at Aleksander’s in case you spent the night there.

It was all so natural that nothing changed after you stopped working together. You still stopped by with his coffee every morning and his thank you’s eventually changed to small pecks on the cheek to a small kiss on your lips. There was no need to rush into things, no need to panic. Love was easy when you let it be.

It’s one night in bed with Aleks that he rolls over and whispers into your hair. "Let’s get married."

You don’t even have to think. Love was easy, after all. "Yes."

Aleksander initially thinks it should be a grand affair, a day to celebrate you and him. However, the more he thinks, the more he despises that idea. He just wants to celebrate you. There doesn’t need to be anything huge beyond a few select friends and a perfect time. That perfect time occurs when you find yourselves in Las Vegas for a tech conference. All your friends, as owners and stakeholders of other companies, are there with you.

"Let’s get married now. Fuck waiting."

You glance around, nodding. "Everyone’s here that you want?" You’re silently asking him if he wants Baghra here but he’s made up his mind.

"I’ll text Ivan and David, if you can call the girls?"

You nod, barely holding back a smile before taking off down the hotel corridors back to your room. The girls all answer the group call and you share the exciting news.

"Aleks and I are getting married here in Vegas, we’d love you all to come?"

The screams down the phone are coming from Alina and Genya as Zoya simply laughs at their antics. "We’ll all be there, don’t you worry."

You pull a simple white dress from your luggage, meant for a party night but perfect for your impromptu wedding. You know Aleksander will do something more formal back home where you can wear your dream dress, so you’re not too worried. The girls are waiting for you in the foyer and Genya has somehow sprouted a bouquet for you.

The chapel is quaint but it’s the man at the end of the aisle that you’re focused on. You can barely hear the officiant pronounce you husband and wife before he’s pulling you close and smashing your lips to his. That night is the craziest thing you’ve ever seen, you visited every bar along the strip, dancing until your feet ached and spending the whole time immeasurably happy.

Two weeks later, Aleksander comes home later than usual. "Darling?"

"Yes?"

His expression is grave. "The Vegas pictures got leaked."

Then the headlines arrived:

MILLIONAIRE MOROZOVA MARRIES COMPETITOR Y/L/N IN SECRET VEGAS WEDDING

SHOCK: MOROZOVA HEIR OFF THE MARRIAGE MARKET TO RIVAL BUSINESS OWNER

MOROZOVA MARRIED: WHO IS THE NEW MONEY-HUNGRY MRS?

You’re scrolling through the news stories that have popped up in a matter of hours. "I guess the world knows."

"My mother has already called." He says, grimacing. "She lectured me about how you’re using me for money like my father did with her before I could put the phone down."

"Did she realise that I owned my own successful business for years before I even met you?"

He hums. "She never was the smartest woman alive."

You nod with him, kissing him sweetly. "It’ll never be about the money with you Sasha. You’re more than that."

Money, it’s a rich man’s world.

AHHH, finally something that's not based on hozier. I am however revealing my deep-rooted love for ABBA now

taglist: @aoi-targaryen

#aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #shadow and bone #grishaverse #modern!au #muxsh #muxshwriting #money money money #ben barnes x reader #ban barnes

[anewp0tat0]

looks like I can draw again!!

Sebastian called him "orphan" for the rest of the week.

#YEHAAAAAH MATEE GUESS IM GOING TO ANIMATION SCHOOL #IT WAS ALL WORTH IT. and now it's all over #actually this may mean I'Il be busier later... but for now- I'm back into the swing of things! kuro art; thoughts; tears; and what have you #it feels like a while since I've posted a big project so I hope I can make it up by finally getting back to the one's ive had in my WIPs! #thank god I got this thingy done. my brain is firing again so i gotta keep up #I know how to draw cars😅🙃 #sorry if the eccess of screen prints is annoying I was experimenting #modern!au #kuroshitsuji #black butler #kuroshitsuji fanart #fanart #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #digital art #o!ciel #this would make a good ad but no not sponcered😌 #sebastian starts vibrating

[luminoustarlight]

Saccharine | Modern!Anakin Skywalker

What do you get when you mix a college Halloween party with beer and a pretty girl wearing a pirate costume?

A jealous Anakin Skywalker.

rating: explicit | pairing: anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 5.3k | read on ao3 warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, drinking, jealousy/possessiveness, SMUT [fingering, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected p in v, come eating/swallowing, mild degradation, like a really brief moment of lactation kink(???)]

the lovely @queenie-official asked for someone to write anakin and reader at a halloween party and anakin gets jealous. i have no idea where 5.3k words came from but y'all i love this one!

and i dedicate this to @hanasnx because we were talking about how we would suck anakin's dick every day if we could.

Here’s the thing about Halloween parties— or rather, Halloween and parties.

Anakin hates both of them. Halloween is a stupid holiday where girls wear short skirts, low-cut tank tops, and a pair of generic animal ears and call it a “costume”. Then they complain about being cold and ask for your jacket. It’s fucking October in New York, what do they expect? 

As for parties, Anakin has never liked them. He’s not a particularly social person. Hell, he’s not even that pleasant of a person but he somehow wound up with you as his best friend in college. He’s the grumpy to your sunshine. He’s a pessimist, you’re an optimist. He drinks black coffee, you like it full of syrupy caramel. He hates everything you like and you don’t understand any of the things he finds fascinating.

The logistics of your friendship is complicated. You don’t know why Anakin is the easiest person for you to talk to even though you have just about nothing in common. You don’t know why Anakin chooses to spend all of his time with you, even though there are other girls in his engineering classes who would kill to talk to him about their shared major. 

You don’t know why he holds your hand when you walk through Central Park while telling you about his hookups. (You wish he wouldn’t talk about other girls with you but you just like the sound of his voice so you do your best at drowning out the meaning of the words). 

If only he knew how miserable it makes you feel to hear about his dating life. If only you knew how difficult it is for you to do the same because every single guy is lack-luster compared to Anakin.    

“I hate parties,” Anakin states. He’s tossing a baseball— the foul ball he caught for you at a Yankees game— in the air to keep his hands busy.

“Yeah, but you love me,” you reply while taking a cream flowy blouse out of your closet. 

“Not if you make me go to this stupid Halloween party with you.” 

You roll your eyes and rest your shirt hanger on one of the knobs on your dresser. You catch the baseball midair and flop beside Anakin on your bed. He props up on an elbow and you just want to soothe the crease between his eyebrows. “Pleaaaase, Ani?” 

“No.” 

“Oh, c’mon! When’s the last time you did something for me?” 

“Look around, sweetheart,” Anakin gestures his arm out lazily. “I helped you move into this place.” 

You huff. “Okay, fine. But you offered. And if I recall correctly, I supplied you with all of the coffee and bagels your heart desired.” 

“There’s only one thing my heart desires.” A lopsided grin forms on Anakin’s lips as his fingers brush against your elbow. It’s a barely there type of touch, one you might not even notice if it weren’t for the sparks you feel every time you and Anakin make contact. 

You fail to mask the sharp intake of air that passes through your teeth. “Wh-what’s that?” 

Anakin runs his tongue over his bottom lip and you think maybe, maybe he just might say what you want him to say. Your heart expands with hope as you await his answer with a bated breath. “To not go to a fucking Halloween party.” 

And just like that, your hope deflates. Of course he wasn’t being serious. Why does his blatant disinterest in you make tears threaten behind your eyes? Is your affectionate friendship really so common that it doesn’t mean anything to him?   

You quickly stand up from your bed and distract yourself by finding the skirt you want to wear in your pile of clothes on the floor. You clear your throat and rapidly blink back any tears before they fall down your cheeks. “Fine,” you say as you find your skirt. “I don’t want you there anyway. It’s the senior Halloween party and I’m not going to miss it because of you.”

“Fine,” Anakin says back. “Go. I don’t care.” 

You gather your clothes in your arms and stand at the foot of your bed. “I have to get dressed first.” 

“So?” Anakin is back to throwing the baseball in the air. Oh, you hate him so much sometimes. You swat the ball out of the air so it lands on Anakin’s stomach, making him groan and his legs curl up to his chest. “Ow.” 

 “So, get out,” you instruct. 

“Jeez. Alright, alright.” Anakin slowly gets up from your bed, being the overly dramatic douche you had to fall in love with. “What, they didn’t put enough sugar in your coffee this morning?” 

“Out!” you point to your door. You’re fuming with him. Why does he have to be so fucking difficult? At this point, you don’t even want to go to the party but you’ll go anywhere to get away from him. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

You take a good thirty minutes to get ready for the party. Inspired by a recent rewatch of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, you decided to dress up as a pirate. You didn’t have to buy a shirt or skirt, which helped keep the cost down. You did purchase a corset, hat, and knee high boots from a thrift store in Brooklyn. With the crimson scarf you’ve had since freshman year wrapped around your waist, you’re set. 

Anakin waits for you on your aubergine couch in your living room. Why he’s waiting, you’re unsure. He’s stretched across the entire length of the couch, his long legs hanging over the armrest. Upon hearing your boots scuff across the floor, he quickly locks his phone and stands from the couch. 

“What are you still doing here?” you brush past him and into the kitchen. 

“I changed my mind,” Anakin replies, following you. You don’t notice the way he looks you up and down, soaking in the entire image of you. The scoopy neckline of your shirt, the flounce of your brown skirt, and the tightness of the corset. The only thing he’s disappointed by is the length of your skirt. It’s not short enough. 

Still, there’s no way he’s letting you go to the party alone. Somebody has to pretend to be your protective boyfriend to keep the college douchebags away. “I’m going with you.” 

You turn around without realizing how close Anakin is to you. You practically step on his toes. He looms over you and you fear he might actually hear your heart racing with how close he is. You back away, straightening your skirt for no other reason than to not look at Anakin. “Are you, now?” 

“Yes.” Anakin crosses his arms. “Are you ready?” 

“You’re going like that?” You counter. “In a zip-up Yankees hoodie?” 

“Take it or leave it, sweetheart.” 

You hate him. You love him. You hate that you love him because you know he doesn’t feel the same way. At least not in a romantic way. You grab a banana off of the counter and march toward the door. “I’d rather leave you here.” 

“Not an option.” Anakin closes your door and uses his key to lock it. The act of him using the key you gave him for emergencies makes your insides twist. It’s on a ring with his own apartment key, as if he’d need yours as frequently as he needs his own. 

You walk down the hallway with a quick pace and make a point to stomp down the stairs, even if it annoys your neighbors more than Anakin. “You’re being exceptionally annoying today.” 

“Thank you,” Anakin accepts the insult as if it’s a compliment. He holds the lobby door open for you and a rush of late October air attacks your skin. You have to hold your hat on your head so it doesn’t blow away. You make an effort not to shudder in front of Anakin, knowing how much he hates girls being unprepared for the weather. At least you’re wearing long sleeves. But it’s not not like the fabric was made to keep the Autumn chill out. 

The party is only a couple of blocks away in Hell’s Kitchen and you’re determined to stay silent all the way there. You’ll just eat your banana and pray Anakin isn’t in a rare talking mood. 

“Why are you walking so fucking fast? I have longer legs than you and I’m practically running.” 

You ignore him. You just want to go to the party, have a couple of drinks, maybe flirt with some guys you have no intentions of screwing, and then go home. Preferably without the puppy dog currently following you. 

“So. Pirate. Interesting choice. You got a thing for Jack Sparrow or something?” Why does he never have anything interesting to say when you actually want to talk to him? Now he can’t seem to shut up. 

Just one more block. Why did he change his mind? Why couldn’t he just be content with going back to his apartment and finding someone to hook up with? You’re sure that’s what he was doing while you were getting ready. The way he locked his phone and shoved it in his pocket when he heard you come out of your room. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like you two are dating or anything. He doesn’t have to hide his booty calls from you. 

“I see what you’re doing,” Anakin jogs in front of you and starts walking backwards. “You’re ignoring me.” 

You give him a look that has “No shit, Sherlock” written all over it. 

“Y’know I don’t like being ignored. I’m too sensitive.” 

You have to laugh. “You? Sensitive?” 

“Ha!” Anakin points at you. “Gotcha.” 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “We’re here, anyway. I know you’re just gonna find a corner and sulk in it so please, just let me have a good time tonight.” 

“Alright,” Anakin surrenders. You walk into the brick building together, the heavy bass of the music thrumming through your bones. “But just one thing.” 

You raise your brows, waiting for him to continue. “You look beautiful tonight.” 

Your heart skips a beat and you hate how easily he makes you swoon. How easily your feelings of irritation disappear after one compliment. “Just tonight?” 

“Ah- what?” Anakin looks at you quizzically. Perhaps he didn’t hear you over the booming music and chatter. 

“Never mind!” you shout. “I’m gonna get a drink. You want a beer?” 

“Sure,” Anakin shrugs. You nod and skip off without another word. When you don’t come back after twenty minutes, Anakin starts to worry. It doesn’t matter how many girls have come up to him and batted their lashes at him. It doesn’t matter that he has 11 unread messages from several past hookups waiting for him on his phone. What matters is that you’re alone at a college party with booze and guys who get a little too handsy when they’re drunk. 

He pushes himself through the crowd, not an ounce of care that he’s severely undressed and out of place. Actually, he’s overdressed. He didn’t know the fire marshal could allow so many shirtless ‘Gladiators’ in one building. And here he thought only girls used Halloween as an excuse not to wear anything. He bumps into several people on his quest for you. 

“Hey, man! Watch it!” 

“Yo, dickhead, you made me spill my beer!” 

“What are you supposed to be? A sad Yankees fan?” 

Anakin hardly hears any of it. Actually, everything seems to fall silent when he spots you. Every other body blurs as he focuses on you and your hand on the forearm of some guy dressed as Captain Kirk from Star Trek. At least he has a goddamn shirt on. It doesn't make the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach disappear, though. You know why? It’s because you’re throwing your head back with laughter. Real, genuine laughter. What is this guy saying to you? And why hasn’t Anakin made you laugh like that recently? 

When the familiar figure of Anakin approaches you, you instantly feel bad. You forgot to bring him his beer! And then you realize that you actually handed it to the guy you’re talking to. Oops? 

“Ani! I never brought you your beer! I am so sorry. I got distracted talking to- oh my God, I don’t even know your name!” 

“Oh, uh, Jeff,” the guy tilts his beer bottle toward you and smiles. You smile back and tell him your name. You also introduce Anakin, but he’s not feeling very friendly right now. He’s too busy criticizing the way Captain Kirk introduced himself. 

Oh, uh, Jeff? He had to think about his name? He couldn’t just say Jeff? 

“Jeff and I were talking about baseball. He’s a Mets fan, though,” you fake gag. “I told him about the foul ball you practically saved me from. Whew, my life flashed before my eyes.” 

“Yeah, they come out of nowhere when you’re not paying attention.” 

Anakin hates this guy. He fucking hates him. His fists clench by his side before sidling up next to you, wrapping a strong arm around your waist. You stumble when he pulls you toward him. “She was paying attention. Are you implying that she wasn’t watching the game?” 

“Anakin, it’s fine,” you place your hand on Anakin’s chest to calm him. “I’m sure that’s not what Jeff meant.” 

“Yeah, man, not at all. I’ve had a couple of close calls myself.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been hit in the head a couple of times with the way you introduced yourself,” Anakin spits. “Who has to think about their name? ‘Oh, um, I can’t remember. I think my name is Jeff,’” Anakin mocks.  

“Anakin, stop,” you try pushing away from him. “You’re being incredibly rude.” 

“I don’t care,” he replies. He begins ushering you away from Walmart Captain Kirk. “We’re leaving.” 

“Seriously, Anakin,” you manage to slither out of Anakin’s grasp. “Stop it.” 

“Hey, is this guy bothering you?” Jeff puffs out his chest. 

Anakin steps in front of you and squares himself in front of the guy with no chance with you. “Funny, I was going to ask her the same thing about you.” 

“Are you her boyfriend or something?” 

“He’s not-” you begin, standing on your toes to talk over Anakin’s shoulder. 

“Something like that,” Anakin answers. Huh? 

“Whatever,” Jeff scoffs. “Thanks for wasting my time.” 

“Wait, Jeff!” you call. “It’s not like that-” 

“Let him go,” Anakin grits. “He’s not worth it.” 

You had almost forgotten about the frustration Anakin made you feel in your apartment. Now it’s all coming to the surface again. Yes, you feel bad for abandoning him and not bringing him his beer but he had no right to ruin your conversation like that. “Oh, and you are?”

“We’re not talking about this here.” Anakin turns and expects you to follow. You have half a mind not to scream at him in the middle of the party but it would be a waste of breath. He’s already nearing the door. You down the rest of your beer and follow Anakin out of the party and onto the street. 

It feels drastically colder outside but perhaps it’s all coming from Anakin’s stare. You stuff your hands beneath your arms in an attempt to keep them warm. “What the hell, Anakin? What was that all about?” 

“Nothing.” 

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘nothing’? That was not nothing, Anakin. That was… that was…” you search for the word but your toes are starting to freeze. You don’t know how frozen toes correlate to not being able to think, but it does. The wind is biting at your legs and your teeth are chattering. 

“Jealousy?” Anakin fills in the blank. 

“Yes! Jealousy! Are you fucking jealous, Anakin?” 

“So what if I am?” 

You’re both shouting unnecessarily but you’re fucking pissed. This cannot be the way you admit your feelings for each other. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. It’s supposed to be romantic. It’s supposed to happen when you’re strolling through the park and the leaves are falling around you and you kiss and everything falls into place. It’s not supposed to happen during a screaming match on the sidewalk while you’re dressed like a historically inaccurate pirate. 

“So what if I feel like punching every single guy who talks to you? Or even look at you? Hm?” Anakin is backing you into the wall and you have no choice but to retreat. “I am jealous every fucking day. I feel possessive over you and I know I shouldn’t. You’re mine, even though you’re not.” Anakin has caged you in with his arms pressed against the wall above your head. His leg is nudged between yours and if you just lower yourself a tiny bit, you might feel a bit of friction where it’s needed. 

Anakin drops his head down so his nose brushes against your cheek. Your lips are so close, you can feel the warmth of his breath. “You never asked me,” you whisper. 

“What?” 

“You never asked me to be yours,” you unzip Anakin’s sweatshirt and slide your arms into the warmth of his jacket. You press yourself against his chest and you think perhaps everything is falling into place.

“Then I’m asking you now,” Anakin cradles your face in his hands. He runs his thumbs over your cheekbones and wonders why it took so damn long to finally get to this point. “Will you be mine?” 

“I already am.” You pull Anakin down to your lips by the collar of his sweatshirt. He tastes like Altoids and you taste like beer, which isn’t necessarily a pleasant combination but it doesn’t matter. Anakin’s lips are so plush and soft, everything you dreamed they’d be but better. They work against yours like it’s the only thing they’re made for. He’s groaning against you, slipping his tongue carefully past your lips. He’s not overzealous with it like some people are. It’s just perfect. He’s perfect. 

The heat in your core continues to grow and spread throughout your body, suddenly warming you up. “Anakin,” you murmur. 

“Hmm?” He replies, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. He pays attention to your neck—which smells of vanilla and everything nice— and is nibbling gently but kissing harshly. His hands have found their way to your breasts, massaging you through your bra and you just fucking wish he’d stop for a second because it’s all too distracting. 

“Anakin, stop,” you breathe out. 

“What? What, are you okay?” Anakin withdraws himself from you completely and you damn near whine at the loss of contact.

“I’m fine, Ani. More than fine.” 

Anakin relaxes at your assurance and takes a moment to admire you. Your hat is askew on your head and your shirt is crooked from him cupping with your boobs. He hopes the corset isn’t difficult to take off… 

“Anakin?” you snap your fingers in front of his face. 

“Huh?” 

“What are you thinkin’ about, pretty boy?” 

“So many things,” Anakin smirks.  

“Care to enlighten me at my apartment?” 

“Way ahead of you, babe.” Anakin whips out his phone and orders an Uber. He’s not walking five blocks back to your apartment with a hard-on. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

You have no clue how either of you manage to keep your hands to yourself in the Uber, but you do. You hardly make it through your door before Anakin’s lips are back on yours with a heavy desperation. He throws your hat off, letting it land who knows where. His hand is on the back of your neck and you’re doing a clumsy dance around your living room. You’re tugging at the roots of his wavy hair, which he’s been growing out since last semester. 

You and Anakin are a mess of hands as you’re both trying to get the other’s clothes off with your mouths still attached to each other. He’s fumbling with the laces of your corset and you wonder how long it will take him to realize there’s a zipper in the back. 

You shrug off his sweatshirt, leaving him in a basic white tee. Anakin reluctantly breaks away from you when he accepts he’s getting nowhere with your corset. “This thing is fucking impossible,” he groans. 

You giggle as you draw the zipper down your back and remove the black corset from your body. You let it drop to the floor as you drape your arms around Anakin’s neck. “You were saying?” 

“I hate you,” Anakin says with a smile. 

“You love me.” 

“So much,” he replies, lips trailing down your neck once again. “I love you so much it consumes me. I’ve tried to fill this void inside of me with other women but it’s never enough. It’s not enough because they’re not you.”

You’re smiling so widely your cheeks hurt. You consume him. He loves you. You’ve never been happier. “I love you too, Anakin. You have no idea.”

“I have some idea,” he smiles. He grabs a fistful of your skirt and slips his hands beneath the hem to find your panties. “Are you going to let me take care of you tonight?” 

“Anything,” you nod, giving him the permission to remove your panties. You take off your boots and blouse and while it’s by no means a show, Anakin is enjoying every second of it. 

“I’ll let you do anything, Anakin.” You unclip your bra so all that you’re left in is your skirt. Anakin is still wearing a shirt and jeans, which is only mildly infuriating since his golden tan skin looks so radiant against the bright white of his shirt. 

As Anakin admires you, he can’t possibly be filled with any more lust than he is right now. Three years of pining after you is surging through his veins and his cock is insanely hard. He’s imagined this so many times. Would he fuck you slowly? Or maybe you’d rather have it fast and hard. Do you like to be called sweet things? Would you be his good girl? Or would you rather be his little slut? 

He’s overwhelmed with the incessant need to taste your cunt. “Get on the couch,” he instructs. “Take your skirt off, too. I want to see all of you.” 

You nod and once you’ve stepped out of the fabric, you situate yourself on your couch. Anakin kneels down in front of you and resists the urge to spread your legs open so he can see your pussy. “You have to take something off, too,” you say sweetly.  

Anakin swiftly tears his shirt over his head and you knew he was fit, but you just didn’t realize how fit. “Oh my God,” you practically drool. 

“Yeah?” Anakin smirks whilst hooking his arms beneath your thighs, pulling your ass to the edge of the couch. His cock strains against his jeans even more now that he can see your glistening pussy. “You like what you see, sweetheart?” 

You shrug. “Mm, yeah. It’s alright, I guess.” 

“You’re a little brat,” Anakin says before kissing up your thigh. The feather-light touch of his warm lips makes you wiggle. Your hand rests atop of Anakin’s head, fingers massaging his scalp in an effort to keep him traveling up to your core. “You’re lucky I can’t resist a pretty pussy like yours.” 

“Is it the prettiest?” 

Anakin lays a kiss on the inside of your other thigh. His nose brushes against your clit as he places a chaste kiss over your folds while running two fingers down your slit. “No doubt about it, babe,” Anakin praises. Fuck, you smell divine. He wants to spend all day between your thighs.  “The absolute prettiest. Bet you taste the sweetest, too.”

With that, Anakin dips a finger inside of you, making you gasp. “Fuck, sweetheart,” Anakin sucks in a breath. He lays his head on your thigh to watch his finger disappear inside of you and then reappear glistening with your juices. “How can you be this wet already? I’ve barely gotten started.” 

You roll your head along the couch cushions, impossibly worked up and craving more than just one of Anakin’s fingers. “Then show me what you’re made of, Skywalker.” 

Oh, that sends a jolt straight through Anakin’s cock. He wastes no more time teasing you and slips another finger into your hole while attaching his lips to your clit. He flicks the tip of his tongue over your bundle of nerves, two long fingers are curling against your walls, and Anakin can’t get enough. Pussy just tastes better when you love the person you’re eating out. It’s pure saccharine to him. He needs it pumped into his blood to survive. 

Anakin finesses his cock out of his pants and strokes himself several times to alleviate the terrible pain that has come over him. Your strangled cries of pleasure and hand on his head pushing him further into your cunt encourages Anakin to add a third finger. “Anakin! Fuck!” 

“You like that, baby?” Anakin is breathless, lips coated with your nectar. “You like being stretched by my fingers?” 

“Mm,” you hum, fisting his hair, “yes.” 

“Bet you do.” Anakin bites the inside of your thigh and pumps his three digits agonizingly slowly so he can really admire the stretch. It’s a toe curling sensation and a bit foreign more than anything. You had no idea fingers could feel so good. Maybe it’s just Anakin’s. He places the pad of his thumb on your clit, applying even pressured circles and yeah, it’s totally just Anakin who makes you feel this good. “Good little whores love to be stretched out.” 

“Oh my God!” you exclaim, pussy clenching at Anakin calling you a whore. Your bodily response doesn’t go unnoticed by Anakin. No, he’s storing all of this in his memory, creating a file of all the things that make you go wild. “Fuck me, Anakin. Please.” 

“Currently doing that with fingers, sweetheart.” He pumps his fingers faster but rolls over your nub with a more delicate touch. By now you’re squirming off of the couch, heels digging into the cushion and all you can do is chant Anakin’s name. You’re caught in a dichotomy of wanting to cum while also wanting Anakin’s cock. “C’mon, angel, let it go. I want you to cum on my fingers before you take my cock.” 

“But I- hngh…” your words are mangled as it’s no longer an option to stave off your orgasm. Your clit is overly sensitive and the tightness in your tummy begins to unravel as your walls pulse around Anakin’s three fingers. “Mm— oh, fuck! Ani-”

“That’s it, baby,” Anakin coos. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful when you cum.” He draws his fingers from you one by one, each time making you cry from emptiness. Anakin sits beside you on the couch, bringing his fingers soaked in your goodness up to your mouth. You open obediently, only taking in two of them. Your tangy sweetness coats your tongue and you’re looking straight into Anakin’s ocean eyes. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel seasick. 

When Anakin takes his fingers out of your mouth, you maneuver yourself on top of Anakin. The rough denim of his jeans creates a rough contrast to the silky tip of his cock poking your thigh. He manages to get his jeans down his legs and around his ankles. Kicking his feet out of them impatiently, his large hands find a home on your breasts while you grab the base of him and position him under your cunt. He’s kneading your mounds gently, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. You slot your lips between his as you lower yourself onto his lap. 

“F-fuck, Ani,” you rest your forehead on Anakin’s as your breathing becomes one. He runs his hands down your tummy, landing on your waist and gives you an encouraging squeeze. “So big, so full,” you murmur. Anakin guides your hips forward and backward, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He’s sucking down hard, no other thought other than claiming you as his.

It’s fucking magnificent having his cock nestled deep inside of you while you’re moaning in his ear, and soft hands roaming his upper body. His hands drop down to your ass, grabbing a handful of your peachy cheeks. You start bouncing on his cock, each time you drop down you feel like he’s in your stomach. “Cunt’s so fuckin’ greedy,” Anakin groans. “You just can’t get enough of my cock, can you?” 

“Mmh, nuh uh,” you babble mindlessly. Your legs are starting to ache but the pain goes in tandem with the pleasure. Anakin presses your chest to his with his arms around your back. You kiss along his jaw lazily, feeling your energy deplete with each landing on Anakin’s thick length. “Need you to…mmm-” 

“Say no more.” Anakin flips you over seamlessly with his cock still anchored inside of you. He hikes your leg over his shoulder and he drills into you at a delicious new angle. His fingers fall to your clit and it sends you soaring. “Fuck,” Anakin breathes. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this tight cunt from me for three years.” 

“Y-yours now,” you have some brain cells left to respond. He’s fucking you hard, tits bouncing with each thrust and Anakin just has to have one in his mouth. While he encloses his lips over one of your nipples, he cups your other breast in his hand. He flicks his tongue across your bud and suckles, as if there’s something in there to nourish him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant. It’s all getting to be too much. The bulge you feel in your belly, the pressure on your clit, Anakin’s warm mouth on your breast. How is he so good at doing so many things? “Ani, I’m close.” 

“I feel it, angel,” Anakin drags his lips across your chest and up your neck until he reaches his final destination. With his lips slotted between yours once more, the roll of his hips is languid and methodical. He’s bringing you along gradually, until your second orgasm washes over you and your limbs are convulsing. You moan into Anakin’s mouth and he swallows it happily. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it?” 

“Mouth!” you manage to say. Anakin loses every single semblance of control he had when you utter that one word. He pulls out of you just as he begins to cum, hot ropes landing on your chest before he’s propped his foot by your head and shoves his cock between your lips. 

Your warm mouth welcomes him greedily as his seed coats your tongue. “Shit,” Anakin grumbles. “Such a little cum slut.” 

You nod submissively, wrapping your hands around the rest of his length, all slippery from your juices. You look so fucking sexy with his dick in your mouth, he can’t even think straight. You on the other hand, you could suck his cock all damn day. You don’t even have to think while you’re doing it, you’ll just let your hands, mouth, and tongue do whatever they want. It isn’t until you feel his dick start to soften do you realize he’s finished releasing his load. 

Anakin breathlessly slumps down on the other side of your couch. You scoop up his cum from your chest and bring it to your mouth. “Don’t. Don’t fucking do that,” Anakin says rather firmly. 

“Why not?” you blink innocently. 

“You know exactly why.” 

You don’t reply. Instead, you crawl over to him, pulling the blanket that’s draped over the back of your couch and lay on top of Anakin’s chest. He lets you get comfortable as you’re sandwiched between his body and the back cushions of your couch. Once you’ve settled, his strong arm holds you against him protectively. He kisses the top of your head gently and mumbles something you can’t understand. 

Neither of you say anything the rest of the night. Anakin isn’t a man of many words, anyway. But when he has something to say, he’ll make sure he gets his point across. The point he made tonight was very clear. 

He loves you.

remember to reblog and leave comments to support authors!

(ps i'm not a yankees or mets fan. hayden's sweatshirt just kinda looks like the yankees logo even though i know it's not. okay that's it.)

◂ anakin masterlist ▸ main masterlist

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x f!reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fan fiction #anakin skywalker one shot #modern!anakin skywalker #modern anakin skywalker #modern!au #college au #modern au

[kerimcberry]

Classic, heheh ✨

I wanted to try something a little different with my comic layout. I actually like how it turned out! 😄

THANK YOU SO MUCH BTW 😭💕 If Lyla lived in more modern times, she would definitely be into video games! This was a fun idea!!

#I miss the arcades in Japan 😭 #ngl I had to look up what modern au meant lmaooo #totally used multiple arcade machine references so it may not be entirely accurate LOL #hogwarts legacy #asks #hogwarts legacy fanart #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #modern au #modern!au #lyla estaris

[ratcash-wasgud]

Farmer!Mizu x reader headcanons!!! (yay)

About Mizu:

Hence living in the countryside her whole life, she grew up with a small accent, but since Akemi didn't have one, she secretly practiced to speak withouth it.

She grew up alongside Eiji, who owned a farm, and her mother who sometimes visited, but not really out of love.

She never really had friends, since the farm was kinda isolated, exept for Ringo was the son of a noodle shop owner, and bought supplies from the farm.

Akemi moved down to the country side when Mizu was already 17, and she was the first "city-person" she interacted with.

Taigen was the son of the sheriff of the town, who loved to accuse Mizu to be a criminal or low life of some sorts, since she was usually covered in dirt from helping Eiji.

Mizu inherited the farm from Eiji, who just randomly decided to retire one day and move to small cottage. That man does whatever he wants.

Mizu quickly got the hang of the farm life, and by 22 she became used to everything and learned to love the hard work too.

She keeps chickens, cows and horses on the farm, along with a dog.

The dog's name is Stew and she got him from Ringo, claiming she needs someone around to not feel lonely. Nowadays Mizu talks to Stew about random things when she feels bored.

She also got a favourite chicken named Braces. She named it that because of it's crooked beak.

She also has a guy who reguralry comes back to the farm to train the horses she keeps, named Mikio. Her mother really likes nagging her about marrying him, since "she needs a husband soon and he's a man with money", but Mizu isn't really interested.

She doesn't like the idea of being a housewife. She likes doing the hard work herself, and caring about her farm.

She also mostly grows corn, carrots, tomatoes, and pumpkins. She can get really excited when it's time to harvest, and always brags to Stew about how good her crops look.

You and her:

One day though, a random van parker just outside of her yard, and stayed there. And a big one at that. Big enough for someone to live in it.

Mizu usually knew how to mind her business and enjoyed doing it too, but this time she got pretty curious.

She stayed outside longer that needed, fixing a piece of fence that could've held out even withouth repair, just to catch a glimpe of this mysterious new neighbour.

And there she saw it...you.

A woman who was very obviously from the city, wearing hipster clothes (or that's how she'd call them) and a having weird haircut.

She then, after thinking she calmed her curiousity, shrugged and went inside.

The problem was that she caught herself staring at her ceiling at night, thinking about how much she doesn't care.

The next morning she decided to put out this itching feeling in her brain about this mysterious person, and cut out a generous piece of cheese out of a big wheel she just finished and walked to the van.

You opened the door casually, and the smell of hyacinth punched her in the face. She had to blink a bunch to pull herself out of her head.

"Hey there. Uh...can I help you?" You ask, casually leaning against your van's door. Mizu had to quietly clear her throat before she spoke up after shoving the cheese into your hands.

"Here. Take it." She says, a little harshly, even if she didn't mean it like that. "Name's Mizu. I live in the farm next to ya. We're neighbours." She said, deadpan. You nervously accepted the girft with a chuckle.

"Well, thank you." You smiled at her. "That's very generous of you. How should I thank you?" You ask, casually putting the cheese on the counter next to you.

"No need...is' just cheese." She mumbles She can't help but feel a little nervous. You seem very carefree, and casual...but you're also very different from what she's used to. She likes looking at you, and hearing you soothing voice...and that hyacinth isn't a bad smell either.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that." You playfully bump her shoulder with your fist. "Come in, at least let me make you coffee."

Mizu then withouth even notcing it, walked inside the van, following you. She took in it's cozyness, and also...your form from behind too.

Through her time of sipping some "machine made coffee", she managed to have a nice conversation with you.

She learned that you've been hired in the town's saloon as a singer, and you sing there every other night. It pays well. plus at least you're living your dreams even if you live out of a van. You're an artistic spirt.

She also learned that you are indeed from the city, and you left behind everything to come here, which she admired. She had this stable life on the farm ever since she was small, and she could never imagine just leaving it behind.

She observed you during that conversation, noticng the little chime of your giggle, and the way you lean onto everything that's next to/behind you instead of sitting down, for some reason.

And somehow...she just felt drawn to you.

After she finished her coffee, she bid you goodnight and returned to her farm.

When she arrived she kicked off her boots on the porch, and took off her big hat as she simply sat down on the steps, staring into nothing. Stew came running to her, making himself comfortable on her lap.

"Ya're not gonna believe this." Mizu started to Stew. Ringo was right, Stew was indeed very nice to talk to. "The girl who moved there, in that van...she's pretty nice." She says, petting Stew as she stares at the sunset. "Did ya know she likes music with like...noise in it? That's crazy. She sings at the bar too." She murmurs. "Maybe I should visit one night?" She looks at her dog, who just nudges her head with his nose. "Ya're right, that would be too forward... Ya think she fancies ladies though?"

The way your lives melted together (nsfw warning!):

After that, Mizu started bringing you her produce every other day, varying from cheese, eggs, milk, to even mayo and oil.

She noticed that you never let her leave withouth something in return, let it be a cup of coffee, or even a whole slice of pie, maybe a discount ticket for the bar.

She thought she was laying it on thick, even though was just shoving stuff in your hands with a deadpan expression, then listening to you talk about random things and your day.

Until one day, she decided to get a little bold. While you were cooking pancakes, and she was sipping her coffee just a meter away from you, she suddenly stood up and hugged your waist from behind, pushing her hips against yours.

You didn't say anything, but you didn't push her away, and she could see your cheeks reddening too. That was enough for her after months of pining.

Things let to eachother, and somehow you ended up sitting on the counter, with Mizu standing between your legs, agressively making out for the last thirty minutes.

Her hands kept feeling your body up through your clothes, grabbing at everything that's soft, while your hands slowly wrapped around her neck, slowly untying her bun.

"I'd be so good for you...I promise." She whispered breathlessly into the kiss. She sounded depserate, and honestly? She was. She was pining after this woman for months now, not having the guts to even imagine them being together, so now, that she had opportunity take her, she needs to give everything she's got. "I'd take good care of you...you'd love it on the farm." She says, as she pulls away lightly to start kissing your neck. She slowly lifted your shirt, letting her hands snake inside your bra too, feeling herself melt into your skin. You were so warm and welcoming, like your body soft body was made to be touched.

Made to be touched by her calloused hands though? That one she wasn't sure of. But she wanted it to be like that. Her rough hands grabbed at your soft breasts, kneading them while she listened to your gasps. The only thing you said during the whole eccounter was her name, and "please". Oh, and pleased you got.

"I know, I...I don't have one. A...dick, I mean, but believe me..." She started a little nervously, looking longingly at you as she started to pulls off your pants. "But I could make you feel good withouth one..." She says, and you can feel her calloused fingers on your abdomen, crotch then folds. You body shook a little when you felt her teasing your entrance with her index, and clit with her thumb. You reached out in an attempt to try and undress her too, and maybe give some pleasure back, but she gripped your wrist with her other hand.

"No...I don't want you to. I want to focus entirely on pleasing you now..." She says, and you can feel her almost playing with the juices that dripped out of you. After she made sure her hands were wet enough, she started to slowly push her finger inside, and that alone drew a moan from both of you.

"That's so nice...you feel so warm. You're squeezing me." She whispers right into your ear, as she gently kisses your earlobe, using her other hand to support you, and not letting you just simply slide off the counter. She started slowly moving her fingers in and out first, but only a little, to let you get used to the feeling.

Mizu wanted to do this for a while, and she always imagined what i'd feel like, so she practiced on herself a couple times. She wanted to learn how to please a woman, and she was the closest one to herself, so...

When she heard you whisper her name once again, she started to curl her fingers inside, managing to perfectly rub against your g-spot. She went deeper and deeper, and just like that, the louder you became too. She herself started to pant a little...it felt so good to feel you like this. When she physically started to feel you throb around her fingers, she pushed in as deep as she can, and moved her fingers in a way that could've sent you into a coma.

As she felt you nearing the edge, she pushed her lips against yours, invading your mouth once again, her brain melting as you came on her fingers while moaning inside her mouth.

Aftermath:

After that, you fell alseep in her hands, and Mizu carefully set you down on your bed before she left in silence.

She went home, absolutely giddy, and gushed about it to Stew, whispering the lewd parts, as if anyone else besides her dog could hear it.

She even added "It's a secret though" at the end.

In the following days, when Mizu brough over the produce she sually does, somehow you always ended up sleeping together, and Mizu sometimes even stayed the night.

You both knew it wasn't just about the sex though, since you needed to talk about something for at least two hours before every session, and Mizu always remembered everything new she learned about you.

After thinking about it for weeks, and having two silent breakdowns in front of your door, she asked you to come live with her. The answer was an obvious yes.

You parked your van in her yard, and moved your more important things inside the house.

When anyone asked why Mizu suddenly started supsiciously living with the city girl, Mizu just said things like "Out of conveniece, since she loves to cook and I don't have time for it", mainly to her mother, and mainly to just brush her off. Only Ringo knew the thruth.

And they were roommates, lmao.

#bes mizu #bes x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #fanfiction #mizu fanfic #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai mizu #bes smut #smut #modern!au #headcanon #headcanons #bes headcanons

[mxlktxa]

shameless plug - tlou master list , quick reads & rambles

#the last of us #the last of us p2 #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #loser!ellie #text au #modern!au #my attempt at loser ellie #this is so dumb #but i kept thinking on this #so enjoy :) #𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 ⋆˚✿˖° #𝘤𝘰𝘸𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ #ellie williams x reader #tlou ellie #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x f!reader

[sapphicsentbycyberlife]

Pregnancy with Abby Anderson

Kinktober Day Six! (I know it's the 8th. Leave me alone.)

ABBY ANDERSON X MILF FEM!READER

Word Count: 2.4K

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

WARNINGS: Swearing, pregnancy, pussy eating (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), soft dom!Abby, sub!reader, milf!reader, mechanic!Abby, modern!au, shower sex

SYNOPSIS: Abby came into your life like a light in the darkness. She stayed throughout your entire pregnancy, all while being your son's best friend and the other mother figure in his life. Abby wanted to stay with you, and she just couldn't get enough of you, especially with you being very pregnant.

DISCLAIMER: BANNERS MADE BY THE LOVELY @cafekitsune

“Peter, you need to relax,” Your voice carried through the kitchen as you poured the scalding hot liquid inside of the iced glass pitcher, watching the slightly red liquid mix with the ice and the crackling sound very satisfying to hear. “Abby will be here soon.”

“Abby’s coming?!” The ten-year-old boy jumped from the chair sitting by the bar, smiling like the Cheshire cat at the idea of his best friend coming to visit your home. Well… his best friend, and something more for you.

You had put on your prettiest sundress today. The soft pink and purple hues of the delicate flower patterns against the white background of the fabric made you look almost angelic in nature. You had ribbons in your hair and wore the easiest shoes for you to put on, which were just flip-flops. It was about 77 degrees Fahrenheit and would be perfect for this evening… For when Abby came to see you both.

About ten minutes later, there was a knock at your front door, and you didn’t even need to look before your son was jumping off the ground and running to the door. “Abby’s here! Abby’s here!”

“Well, let her in!” You smirked, sitting at the counter and waiting for your son to pull the door open. As soon as it was, the tall, blonde woman was dropping her duffel bag at the front door and swooping down, lifting Peter off the ground and into her arms.

“Abby!” He immediately started giggling and squirming in her muscular arms as her long blonde hair fell down and almost created a curtain over her face. She was still in her work uniform, which meant there were grease stains on her forearms and one smeared across her forehead, but even in her disheveled state, she was fucking gorgeous.

“How’s my favorite munchkin, huh?” Abby grinned, almost carrying him over her shoulder as she looked up and met your eyes, her own nearly sparkling with adoration.

Peter wiggled free from her grasp and almost landed butt first on the carpet before running over to you and grabbing at your hand. “I’m so excited! C’mon, mom, let’s go! Let’s go!”

It took you longer than you wished to stand up, pressing a hand over your belly and sighing at how low your stamina had become in recent months. Abby immediately blushed, biting her lip and walking up to you. One of her veined hands went to your hip and she leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“How’re you feelin’ momma? You doing okay?” Abby’s gruff, but soft voice made your entire body shudder as she pressed her hand against your massive pregnant tummy. At almost 7 months along, you couldn’t hide it even if you wanted to… But Abby seemed to love it.

You pushed your face into her neck and breathed slowly. “I’m okay, honey… Just a little tired, that’s all.”

A moment of comfortable silence passed before Abby looked over her shoulder at Peter. “Hey bud, why don’t you go outside and play for a bit? We’ll be out soon, just need to clean up.”

Peter didn’t even question it. He ran outside the sliding glass door and shut it behind him, immediately enjoying being in the early evening air and making your lives almost three times easier. You let out a sigh, leaning up and looking at Abby with a silly grin. “What are you thinking, miss Anderson?”

“Oh don’t you worry, sweetheart,” Abby wrapped both arms around you and the shudder that raced down your spine was borderline embarrassing. “I’ll take real good care of you…”

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Abby was obsessed with this feeling. Ever since she met you at the shop, she was smitten like a love drunk teenager. You had come inside, borderline hysterical as you had your son next to you, holding your arm and looking just as equally terrified. Your eyes were wild and your hair was slightly a mess, but you were beautiful.

The mechanic had seen you from the windows inside the shop while she rebuilt the engine to a 1967 Shelby gt500 for a special client. Hands covered in oil stains and hair held back in a tight braid, Abby glanced up when she heard the doors open and almost dropped her socket wrench inside of the car’s engine.

Her coworker that worked the front was talking to you, and you were almost shaking as you explained what was wrong with your 2000 GMC Sierra 1500. The pickup truck outside looked like it was being held together by duct tape and dreams. In fact, there was actual duct tape on the front bumper!

Manny had tried to be reasonable with you, but by the time he was done talking, you were on the verge of tears. Eyes watering and your hands shaking, you looked down at your son who was clearly confused with what was happening and why you were freaking out.

Abby decided to step in. She tucked the towel into the waist of her jeans and stepped out of the shop, hands dark brown from the oil staining her skin. You looked up as she stepped out, and your cheeks turned a soft pink when you met her steel blue eyes. “What’s the problem here, miss?”

Manny was about to explain before you jumped in. “Okay, my truck’s breaks are not working,” You started and looked out of the window before staring back at Abby. “And I don’t mean they’re shaky or they’re soft; I mean the car won’t stop unless I slam the emergency brake!”

“Okay,” Abby wordlessly shoved Manny aside and began typing something into the computer. “How long has this been a problem?”

“It just got really bad today after I picked up my son from school. I almost hit four cars on the way here. Look, you have to help me; I d-don’t have any other car. This is all my ex-husband let me have. I don’t—”

Abby saw how frantic you were and she grabbed her clipboard before going around to the other side of the counter where you were standing. Her hands felt so warm when they came in contact with your shaking ones. The 9-year-old was staring at her, almost like he was waiting for Abby to promise that she would help you.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Abby breathed softly. You hiccupped and looked in her eyes, tears now streaming freely. “Calm down… Let’s just go take a look at it, okay? I’ll see what I can do for you, miss.”

You nodded.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

That was almost a year ago. You never expected to end up dating your mechanic… and you certainly didn’t expect this to happen. It felt like some incredible fever dream… Staring down at Abby on her knees in front of you with her hands holding you by the thighs and her mouth against your cunt.

She would do this almost every time she came to visit you. Your home was open for her at all times and as your pregnancy got more and more prominent, Abby had become more protective of you, and far clingier… Not to mention she was hungry for you at all hours of the day and every single day of the week.

You pushed your hands into her hair as she lapped at you, her tongue flattening against your cunt and drooling against you as she rubbed the bones of your hips. Hot water raced down from the showerhead as Abby made you feel like you were floating. She could feel your heartbeat in your clit as she flicked it with the tip of her tongue, making you squeak and bite down on your hand to try and stay as quiet as possible.

The last thing you needed was for your son to hear any of this. But you couldn’t resist Abby, even if you tried.

Maybe a few months ago, you would be able to look down and stare into her beautifully silver eyes as she ate your pussy to her heart’s content, but now your pregnant belly was in the way and you couldn’t see her beyond the growing life inside of you. Abby didn’t mind. She loved every part of you, even if this part of you wasn’t hers.

If anything, you looked even more beautiful like this. Abby slid her fingertips along the stretch marks against your hips and reached up, squeezing your ass as she tilted her head back a little further and pushed her tongue inside of your tight wetness. The sound of your head hitting the shower wall made her pause in her movements, but you kept her still, not letting her move.

“Abby… Abby, please don’t stop…” You sobbed, tears pooling around your eyes as you began to grind on her face, desperate to cum for her. Your breathy voice had her heart stuttering, and she moved her tongue faster, thrusting it in and out of your cunt with a speed that seemed almost inhuman.

She hummed softly against you, the vibrations making you see stars as you felt like you would cum at any second. All it took was for her to move just right… She pulled her head back and began to lick your clit a little softer, but so much faster than before.

“Just like that… ohmygoood,” You whispered into the air, leaning back on the shower wall and looking down at seeing her right hand going from your ass to resting on your tummy, rubbing your skin and giving you more love than you’ve ever felt in your life.

You didn’t last long. Abby held you as you rode out your orgasm against her mouth, tiny squeaks leaving your throat as you put a hand over your mouth and grabbed at Abby’s hair hard enough to make her eyes water at the pain.

Slowly, Abby stood to her feet and leaned down to press an opened mouth kiss against your lips. You blushed, tasting yourself on her tongue and curling both hands into her long hair.

“Not done with you,” Abby moaned against your lips as she slowly turned you around and pushed your chest into the shower wall. “Be good for me, momma… let me take care of you.”

“W-Wait, Abby,” You shuddered, feeling her fingers trace a line down your spine and between your asscheeks before she slid even lower and pressed her middle finger against your cunt. Her chin rested against your shoulder and she let out the softest sigh ever.

“You’re so pretty, momma…” She pushed her digit inside your cunt, feeling your sensitive walls flutter around her and kissing the side of your neck. You whined and pushed your face against your arm, biting your lip to stay as quiet as possible. “Look so fucking pretty, belly filled with our baby.”

The noise you made had Abby’s pussy throbbing. Her lips pressed against your cheek as she began moving her fingers in and out of your cunt, adding a second one and making you see stars. Abby referring to the life inside of you as ‘ours’ was enough to make you want to cry. She loved knowing that she will be part of your life when the baby is born, and that she will be able to raise the kid with you.

You couldn’t believe the sounds she was pulling out of you, and she had to use her other hand to cover your mouth. Abby made sure not to hurt you as she kept you quiet and began to pump her fingers fast enough for you to see stars. “That’s it momma… yeah, you like that? Like how I’m fucking you so good?”

“Mhmmm…” You hummed against her mouth, eyes rolling back a little as Abby readjusted herself, so she was standing right behind you. She pulled you into her, pressing your back into her chest and you felt all of her gorgeously strong muscles against your skin.

Her hips angled just right so she was able to thrust them forward and push her fingers deeper inside you. It almost felt like she was fucking you with her strap, which she has done so many times before… You were in love, and you had no problems showing it. You looked up at her, eyes sparkling, and Abby almost melted with the love she saw in your eyes.

“Like that? Yeah, you like when I fuck you like this?” Abby stepped forward and shuddered when she looked down, seeing your breasts bouncing with her thrusts, pushing her face into your neck and keeping you close to her. “So fucking sexy, momma… come on, now.. I know you’re close.”

You whined her name in her hand, and she slowly pulled it away, cautious of the sounds you were making but unable to resist pressing her palm against your belly. You felt her caress your skin, showing her love for not only you, but for the unborn child inside of you. A single tear tracked your face and she curled her fingers upward, hitting just the right spot that your knees almost gave out.

Abby wrapped a hand under your chest and held your whole body against her as she began to slow her movements down, watching you sob and toss your head back into her shoulder. Your climax hit so hard that Abby struggled to keep you quiet, but didn’t want to let you go. In the haze of pleasure, she bent down and pressed her lips against yours, swallowing your moans in her mouth and letting you ride the waves out.

The water was beginning to turn cold and Abby quickly rinsed the slickness off her fingers and your pussy before turning off the shower. Very slowly, she helped you out of the tub and reached for the huge towel, gently wiping your face with it and seeing tears form inside your eyes all over again.

Abby got scared. “Love, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Did I—”

“Stay with me,” You begged. Abby blushed at your words. “Stay here, move in… stay with us, please Abby…”

Abby thought of you, thought of Peter, and then thought of the baby inside your tummy. She had never been good with kids before… But your son loved her, and she felt like she had gotten so much better just being near him. This truly was everything she wanted. You were everything she wanted.

Abby kissed you. “I’ll move in this weekend… I’ll never leave you, momma. Your family is my family. You are my people.”

#the last of us #abby anderson #the last of us part 2 #tlou part 2 #modern!au #lesbian kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #abby smut #abby x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fluff #fluffy smut #so fucking cute #i loved this

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A/n:I know you said it wasn't a request but I just had to write a fic about this cause it was so cute.

Mizu loved to come and visit you while you worked, you just looked so cute in your little uniform. Parking her bike she flexed her fingers as she made her way towards you happily working. Slipping her sun glasses off her face, she ran her tongue across her lips as her gaze lingered on your form. She couldn't help but feel a rush of desire hit her the event's of the morning still freshly on her mind.

Shaking her head she made her way towards the counter to get her drink. Her blue gaze drinking in your form, the way your uniform hugged your body so perfectly.

"Mizu!" A bright smile formed on your lips, leaning over the counter you gave her a soft kiss. "I'll go get you your drink."

Turning to the coffee machine you hummed softly as you made her drink and once finished you start to hand it to the woman, Mizu's hand clasping around your wrist pulling you in close. "I'd like a piece of that ass too." Her eyes ranked down to your skirt as her lips pulled into a smirk. "But you'll have to wait to get home first"

Her voice husky as she let her thumb run across your lips. She could feel your pulse pounding under her finger tips, the warmth of your skin.

You were turned on, good.

Maybe she could sneak you off to the bedroom, With a reluctant sigh she pulled away. "See you soon beautiful."

#drabbles #drabble #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu x y/n #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #bes #bes mizu #bes x reader #mizu bes #modern!au #modern!mizu

[soleilceirinen]

Scaredy Cat | modern!Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

Summary: your boyfriend and your cat don't get along, they hate each other. When you have to travel for work and there is no one else to take care of your cat except for Tommy, you can't help but worry. What will you find when you return?

Warning: mentions of past animal abuse (not anymore), the cat gets sick, Tommy swears as usual, etc. If some of this might trigger you, don't read. There are mentions of smut but no real smut.

A/N: English isn't my first language, sorry if there are mistakes!

Peaky Blinders Masterlist - Cillian Murphy Masterlist

Tommy was very good with horses. Sometimes, just to tease him, you liked to call him 'Horse Whisperer Tommy'. He didn't find it funny at all. The truth is that he didn't get along so well with cats. 

At least, this man was incapable of getting along with yours. And it was funny because most of the time he reminded you of an angry cat himself, the rest of the time too, being honest. Sometimes, when you were on the couch watching a movie with Tommy lying on your chest and you scratched the back of his head right where his hair was shorter, you would swear you could hear him purring, melting under your touch. 

Your cat liked to make things difficult. The first time Tommy stayed over at your house, the cat took the space on the bed between the two of you, making it clear which was her territory and that you were hers. Every time he tried to get closer to you he was met with an outstretched paw that pushed him to the opposite side of the bed. You thought it was funny, he not so much. When you woke up you found Tommy's suit jacket full of orange hairs, crumpled on the floor. To this day the jacket still had traces of cat hair.

Moreover, how could you forget the day when Tommy was working on his laptop from your house and the cat bit the corner of the screen? Needless to say, Tommy couldn't continue working on whatever he was doing, which pissed him off so much, because the device stopped working. Your cat spent the rest of the day with a satisfied expression on her round face.

The rest of the time, the poor creature just hissed at Tommy every time she saw him. Eventually, she ended up accepting that neither of them were going to disappear from your life. At least you hoped it wouldn't happen in a long time. 

From the bedroom you heard your boyfriend talking, his deep voice too low to understand his words. You assumed that he would be talking on the phone, always busy with work, even in his sleep he kept mumbling meaningless phrases. 

You headed to the kitchen, after a long day at work you couldn't wait any longer to have dinner. Your cat appeared out of nowhere and began to walk between your legs, creating infinity shapes and wrapping her long tail around your calf. You bent down to scratch her belly when she leaned on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

"You're so cute," you said in a childish voice, earning a sideways glance from Thomas, full of resentment.

"Cute my balls," he spat.

The cat looked at you with her eyes wide open, as if she were asking you ‘did you hear what he said?’ You jumped to your feet and put your hands on your hips, looking at Tommy with a raised eyebrow. "May I know what's the matter with you?" 

“Your cat, Y/N,” he muttered, turning to you with his hand in front of his face. On the back of it was a deep cut, no, it was a scratch. "Look what the evil’s spawn has done to me."

You glanced at the cat one last time, she looked back at you and licked her paw innocently. Letting out a sigh, you took Tommy's hand in yours to inspect the wound.

"What have you done to make her do this?" you asked cautiously.

He responded with a huff. "Nothing. She came out of nowhere and jumped at me with her claws out."

You nodded in silence and began to disinfect his hand. Your cat was like that, she didn't like men. Actually, she only liked you. Sometimes you wondered if her bad attitude was due to her previous owners, who didn't treat her very well. The thought of someone mistreating your cat filled you with sadness as well as anger. Fucking bastards.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, to him and to her, a tinge of sadness in your voice which didn't go unnoticed to Tommy.

When you finished covering his scratch with a bandaid, Tommy grabbed you hand in his and gave it a loving squeeze before continuing placing the food on the dinner table. 

-

You had always liked animals, when you were little you weren’t allowed to have pets because your brother was allergic to them. So, the moment you got a job in the city and moved out on your own, the first thing you did was go to the nearest shelter to adopt a kitten.

That was the initial idea, to bring a small cat home and raise it. However, when you saw the sad eyes of the orange cat watching you from inside her cubicle, you had the feeling that you were predestined to end up together. She was already an adult cat at that time but that didn't matter to you.

At the shelter they briefly told you that her former owners, whoever they were, had mistreated her and left her abandoned, half dead in a garbage can. A homeless man searching through the trash found her and took her there, where she was taken care of until she luckily recovered. You couldn't be more grateful to that stranger who cared enough to rescue her. Unfortunately, two years had passed since then and no one had wanted to adopt her. 

She instantly won your heart. You took her home and named her Cat, like Holly Golightly's cat in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Plus, both of them looked alike. Of course, Tommy complained that it was a ridiculous name for a cat, similar as if he called one of his horses Horse.

-

A couple of weeks after the scratching incident with Tommy, you were notified that you had to travel to another city for a week on behalf of the company you worked for, which was great because it gave you the opportunity to explore new places. The disadvantage was that your cat was old and had to take a pill every day, for life. You didn't trust anyone to leave them in charge of such a task, but not going on the company trip would mean losing the opportunity to receive a promotion in the coming months. You didn't know what to do but you had an idea.

That night Tommy was going to visit you, so you would make him a suggestion.

After having dinner, Tommy and you started kissing passionately. Everything with him was very intense. His warm, calloused hands ran along your sides under your shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps over your soft skin. Your fingertips scratched the shaved sides of his hair and he let out a moan, pressing his lips harder against yours, never breaking the contact. 

You were starting to feel his bulge growing against your crotch, so you moved your hips against him, enjoying the friction. Now you were the one who let out a moan of pleasure.

“Fuck,” he murmured, burying his face in your neck as he panted. "Can't you make her leave, or at least make her stop staring at me like that?"

You looked at him slightly confused, following his gaze to the cardboard box where Cat was lying with her head resting on the edge of it, watching you without blinking. It didn't matter how many beds you bought her, none could beat the cardboard box. Rolling your eyes, you placed a hand on your boyfriend's face and caressed his sharp cheekbone, trying to get him to focus on you again.

"Just ignore her. Look at me," you said softly, kissing his jaw.

Tommy pulled away from you and sat on the sofa, running a hand over his face. "I can't, love. She's looking at me, killing my mood." He shrugged, looking sick.

You sighed, mentally saying goodbye to any possibility of Tommy fucking the hell out of you. "How bold she is, daring to look down on the great Thomas Michael Shelby."

He gave you a wide eyed look before frowning. "Are you making fun of me? Hey, where do you think you're going? Taking the beast to another room?"

"I'm going to get some water."

Once in the kitchen you took a couple of deep breaths, gathering the courage to talk to him. It was your opportunity to convince him to stay with Cat. You returned to the living room and sat next to him, crossing your legs on the sofa.

"Tommy, do you remember my work trip?"

He looked at you with a blank face for a few seconds until a spark of knowledge shone at the back of his eyes. "Yes, you're going away for a week. Is that right?"

You nodded, biting your lip. "Can I ask you a favor?"

His expression changed to one of suspicion. Usually you didn't ask for things, you didn't hesitate, so he knew you were about to ask him to do something he wouldn't like.

"It depends".

"You have to come in the morning to feed Cat, but not too much because she eats it all and gets sick," Tommy opened his mouth to complain but you were faster, placing the palm of your hand over his lips before continuing. "At night you come back and give her the pill with a bit of soft food, you have to pay attention and make sure she has swallowed it, okay? Also,  change her water, because when she has it for more than a day she won’t drink it."

He gave you a small kiss on the palm of your hand. You removed it and looked at him through your lashes, expectantly.

"Anything else?" he asked, feigning boredom. You smiled. It had been very easy, you hadn't even had to convince him.

"Yes! You have to clean up her cat litter."

-

The day of your trip, you left everything ready so that when he arrived at night, Tommy would find things easily. 

He opened your apartment door and stuck his head in doubtfully, there was no sign of the furry little beast. He was having flashbacks to the last time he stayed over, when Cat started running around the house making weird noises as if she was possessed by Satan himself. Tommy still felt chills remembering how the cat jumped into the bedroom moving sideways with her tail twisted while she howled. You couldn’t stop laughing, used to see your cat doing that almost every day, but Tommy kept saying that he witnessed a demonic possession that night.

But at that moment there were no howls or strange noises. In fact, everything was quiet. One of those silences that he had experienced so many times in his life before. The kind of silence that does not bode well. Tommy squared his shoulders, he wasn't going to get carried away by his superstitious ideas. It was just a cat. He would come in, give her the pill and some water, and then he would leave. Fast and clean. 

As he approached the corner where the hallway turned to the left at a ninety-degree angle he stopped. Your cat liked to hide there before jumping like a lion hunting for its prey on Tommy's legs. He still had the scar from the last bite, he didn't want to take another one.

This time he was prepared. With a quick movement he stood on the next section of the hallway. But there was nothing. Frowning and feeling a bit ridiculous, Tommy walked through the house looking for the little beast until he found her lying on the sofa.

The cat was curled up in a ball, her head resting on the armrest. Only her green eyes moved following Tommy's movements as he approached her. She seemed kind of off and Tommy couldn't help but feel a tinge of empathy.

“Do you miss Y/N too?” he asked out loud. The cat blinked weakly. "This place feels weird without her around, huh?" 

Tommy didn't know what to expect, some kind of reaction or something. The cat remained still, staring at the wall. He gave her one last glance, shrugging and heading to the kitchen. You had placed a note on the refrigerator door with more instructions, attached with a magnet in a miniature version of the Eiffel Tower that Tommy brought you from Paris. 

He ran his fingertips over your handwriting, thinking. He was going to take you to France the next time you had holidays. The rest of the refrigerator was covered with polaroids of you smiling at the camera, the two of you together, you with your friends and family... and the cat.

'Ah yes, the cat.' Tommy remembered, turning around.

The food and water bowls were full, as if she hadn't touched them all day. That was strange, the feeling of something not going right increased. Grabbing a clean bowl, Tommy put some soft food in it and inserted the pill, completely camouflaged, before placing it on the floor in front of the sofa. 

"Eat," he indicated authoritatively. 

He was a man used to being obeyed in everything, everyone did except you. You were the only one who could handle him like a rag doll and he wouldn’t complain. There was no doubt that this cat was yours, she didn't even look at the food.

Tommy grunted, losing his patience. He grabbed the bowl with one hand and the cat with the other, pushing them together as much as he could. The animal did not resist, after a few minutes a third of the food was gone, including the pill, but she refused to swallow more. "As you wish," he murmured, leaving the remains of food next to the other bowls.

When he looked into the small laundry room where you had the cat's litter box, his heart skipped a beat. Everything was a mess, the floor was full of poop and vomit.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. Then he returned to the living room, ready to give the cat the reprimand of her life but stopped short. He hadn't noticed before but there were also traces of vomit on the living room floor. "Shit."

Just then his phone started ringing. Your name appeared on the screen. He cleared his throat and answered.

"Hello Tommy" your voice sounded happy although somewhat tired. "How are you doing, honey?"

"Good. I gave the pill to the beast, don't worry. Are you okay?" He spoke as fast as he could, trying to move the conversation away from the cat. 

"Yeah, it's a little boring you know, all day in meetings and now they want to go to have dinner but I don't feel like going. I haven't been able to call you all day, as you can see  I haven't stopped.” You let out a small laugh. ”Hey Tommy, thanks for taking care of Cat. It means a lot to me. I have to go, they came to pick me up. I love you!"

You hung up the call before he could say anything back. Leaving the phone on the coffee table, he walked into the balcony, feeling the cold wind against his skin.

Tommy leaned on the balustrade as he lit a cigarette, smoking slowly. You didn’t like him smoking inside the house, or smoking in general, but that was his problem and you couldn’t change it. This way the balcony became his territory. Once he finished, he went back inside, closing the door behind him. The last thing he needed was the cat jumping out the window. 

He started cleaning everything the best he could while debating whether to call you again and tell you everything, that something was wrong with your cat, or try to fix it on his own. Yes, he would do that better. Tommy was a man of resources, he wasn't going to ruin your trip and worry you if he could take care of it.

After making sure everything was clean and the cat had food and water, he left your house, relieved that he wouldn't have to spend another second alone with that animal. 

-

When he returned the next day and found both the food and water intact, he headed to the living room, where Cat was still lying in the same position as the day before. He felt his soul leaving his body. 

Tommy swallowed and sat on the couch next to the cat. He approached his hand slowly to touch her soft fur, expecting the cat to hiss like she always did when he got too close to her. That would mean everything was fine. But that didn’t happen, the feline's only reaction was shuddering and letting out a pitiful whimper so soft that if he hadn't been sitting next to her, Tommy wouldn't have heard it.

Shit, shit, shit. He covered his mouth with his hand, his brain working at maximum power. He had to do something. Being aware of how important that cat was to you, if something bad happened to her... he didn't even want to imagine your reaction. 

Without wasting another second, he dialed May Carleton’s number, the veterinarian who sometimes treated his horses. After explaining the situation, she told him to bring Cat into the clinic to take a look at her. Tommy picked up the cat in his arms, wrapped in a blanket, and held her to his chest like one does when cradling a baby. The poor thing let him do it, too weak to complain.

The drive from your house to the clinic was frantic, Tommy drove like a madman and once there he skipped the line in the waiting room, entering directly and leaving the bundle on the metal table. "Thomas, you can't sneak in like this," said May while putting on a pair of clean latex gloves.

"It's an emergency," he said, pointing to the metal table.

The vet's expression changed from annoyance to concern the moment she laid her eyes on the poor creature. "Okay, Thomas. I'll take over from here, why don't you wait outside?"

It turned out that she had eaten some plant that's poisonous to cats. This had caused her intestine and some other organs to inflame, or something like that. At least they had discovered it in time to help her.

The first thing Tommy did when he got back to your apartment was throwing away all the plants. The second thing was not taking his blue eyes off from Cat for a minute during the next three days.

-

At the end of the week you couldn’t wait any longer to go back home. You called Tommy several times but he didn't pick up the phone. Every time you had talked to him in the past few days he always told you that everything was going great. You had a hard time believing it. In about twenty minutes you’ll be home and you could finally hug your baby Cat and take a shower, in that order.

You stopped at the entrance of your home, leaving the suitcase and your shoes next to Tommy’s. He's here after all, you thought. The lights were off, all of them except for the one in the living room. You walked towards there and what you saw made your heart fill with love. 

Tommy was on the sofa, fast asleep. Curled against his side was Cat, sleeping too. She was holding Tommy’s hand between her paws. You covered your mouth with your hand, hiding your smile. They were too adorable. Never had you thought the day in which the two of them could get along would come. Seeing them sleeping together seemed like a dream. 

You took your phone and started taking pictures of them. The next week you would print one to put it on your fridge door, a new moment to remember.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x y/n #modern!tommy shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby fluff #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders au #peaky blinders modern!au #modern!au #soleilceirinen writes

[bunification]

SHORT FUSE — ELLIE WILLIAMS

ellie takes you to a club and can’t wait til home to fuck you.

wc: 1.2K

a/n: hiiii so this is my first fic!!! i’m super excited, open to any advice, and likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome!!! my asks are always open :)

Ellie is pissed. The kind of pissed that worms its way into every thought, the kind that lasts for hours, the kind that burns and simmers until it boils over, scalding everything in its way. And because the reason was you, dancing away at a club she took you to, in clothes she bought for you (knowing you’d look like this, like a meal that’s got a garnish, all delicious and presentable), she’s even more pissed because she knew this would happen.

She can’t take you anywhere without people fawning over you, a fact that both satisfies some primal urge within her and activates an equally primal violent one. She’s having fun, she scolds herself. You can fuck her stupid in an hour. You can give her an hour.

And Ellie could’ve–would’ve–if you hadn’t stumbled over, all done up with black smudged around your eyes and glossy lips twisted in a pout twenty minutes later asking to dance. She even tried complying, folding before you finished asking as she dragged you back toward the dance floor.

It was a minute in, when you began grinding your ass against the strap hidden beneath her slacks, that Ellie’s restraint finally snapped. Her hands slot themselves onto your hips, gripping with a strength that tells you she could throw you over her shoulder in a heartbeat. You pause your movements; her hands tighten, gripping the fat at your hips like you might try and escape, then loosen without losing their place.

You’re just barely tipsy, more confused when you mumble out “Els, wha–?” Except she doesn’t let you finish, moving her iron grip to your hand, swallowing it in her own as she spins you around to look at her. She looks debauched. Pupils engulfing her irises, lips recently wet and parted with heaving breaths, furrowed brows caging in her eyes as she looks at you. She’s ethereal.

“Y’r a fuckin’ tease,” she grumbles and then doesn’t waste a moment more before leaning down to press her lips against yours. It starts slow, with a special awareness that this is happening in the middle of the dance floor, before quickly devolving until the rest of the world fades and it’s just eachother. She devours you, pulls you apart and explores each section as her tongue fucks itself into your mouth, before she obscenely sucks your tongue into hers. You can’t help but whimper, and that’s when she pulls back, allows the two of you to catch your breath. You pant into her mouth, breaths mingling, and Ellie leans down to press a quick peck to your lips, like she can’t help it. Her hand, giant and imposing, softly cups your cheek and her thumb dances across the soft skin.

“Can’t wait till home,” she mumbles, and you catch it by reading her kiss stricken lips, the words going straight to your cunt. “Bathroom?” she asks, and she’s hopeful, so cute with bitten lips and a shy grin. Who are you to deny her of something you’ve wanted since you got back from class? You nod, and she winks, before turning around and swallowing your hand in her own yet again, leading a path through the crowd to the bathroom.

Entering the bathroom was a blur, only coming into focus once Ellie manhandled you onto the counter, cool granite a harsh contrast to the way her hands encapsulated your plush thighs. She was kneading at the doughy skin, mouth relentless against your lips, and then your neck. You were speechless for a moment, and then you were sure you’d never shut up again, “God Ellie, so good to me,” And you’re tugging at her roots, just scrambling to pull her into you, to get her face up to yours so you can see her, breath with her, love on her.

Ellie doesn’t move, instead tsks, just a condescending “Ah, ah, ah” before turning her attention back towards your neck. “Supposed to be mad at you,” and she huffs a laugh into your neck when you scoff. “‘M serious,” she continues, “You’re out there looking all pretty, and I don’t really care what you do, babe, but they’re looking. Wish I could be the only one, ‘s all.”

“So you’re really not mad at me,” you clarify, continuing to run your fingers through her hair, and Ellie nips at your skin, a playful little notion. After a beat, she finally folds, “No,” keeping her position buried in the crook of your neck before peeking out to make eye contact with a twinkle in them before asking, “Will you still let me fuck you?”

You nod, and then it’s all unbottoning pants and flipping up skirts, messy circles on your clit over your panties with your face buried in Ellie’s neck. You hiccup against her skin, lazily mouthing at it when you quiet down a bit, patiently waiting for your girlfriend to pull out her dick. Ellie shimmies her slacks down her legs a bit before letting the pink glittery dildo escape the confines of her pants. “Y’want my fingers? Need a little more from me?” And only a sob escapes because she’s been working your clit the entire time.

“Need you now,” You whimper, squirming where she has you against the granite, her big hands palming at your tits through your shirt, and you’re ready for her, slick and pliant and open. She rubs your clits a couple more times before bringing one of her hands to the base of her dick, and the other to slide your panties over. The head nudges at your rim, stretching so easily as she pushes in, and your lips are a breath apart, panting into the other’s mouth when Ellie slides home.

You moan unabashadly, head throw back until it thumps against the mirror as Ellie thrusts and thrusts and thrusts. She’s so deep it hurts, so deep it feels like she might grow roots and build a home here. And god, you want her to, and you tell her as much as she fucks into you, just “Oh Els,” and “Right there, fuck,” and “I’m getting—mmph—close, oh”. Ellie can’t help the cocky grin that stays on her face as her hips slam into your own, knowing she’s got you like this and knowing that, for the rest of her life, no one else would.

“Is my girl close?” She asks, face now right by your ear, “Y’gonna cum? Is my sweet girl gonna cum?” You nod, furiously, letting out a shout of pleasure when her hand sneaks down towards your clit and rubs. It all lasts a moment more before pleasure consumes you, vision going white as the wave crashes. She holds you, carrying you through it with deep, slow thrusts, a milky white ring around the pretty pink base.

Ellie’s hand circles your back, pulling you toward her before seeming to remember that she’s buried inside you, and so she backs up so she can pull out. She slips out of you, and you briefly whine at her absence until she returns, with some damp paper towel. She cleans you up, and kisses your forehead before resituating your underwear and skirt, then her own slacks.

Ellie is content. The kind of content that worms its way into every thought, the kind that lasts for hours, the kind that floats and glimmers until it’s barely containable. And because the reason was you, sitting before her on the counter she just fucked you on, she’s even more content because she had a feeling this would happen.

#first fic!!! #:3 #tlou2 #the last of us 2 #ellie williams #ellie williams au #modern!au #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #el <3 #ellie tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie x you #em writes

[sapphire-writes]

The Au Pair (modern!HOTD) part 2

Part 1 ~ Part 2

pairing: Daemon x fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

summary: Your job nannying for the Targaryens takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: 18+ (explicit sex, oral fem receiving, fingering), slight power imbalance as they're your bosses, language

word count: 4.0k

note: part 2, it's about to get spicy in here! I hope you enjoy!

Days go by like you’re living in a dream. You’ve fallen into a solid routine with the boys, ushering them out to the school in the morning, and taking them to the park (mostly to gossip with Shae). You can’t help the gnawing feeling inside you, waiting for the shoe to drop. It’s almost been a month and you’re still around. As Shae said, previously unheard of. 

“They’ve got some wedding this weekend,” Shae says waving to one of the kids.

You’re sitting on your usual bench with her, sipping on a hot drink, rocking Joffrey’s carriage with your foot slightly. He’s out cold, snuggled up with his favorite plushie, a soft dragon egg. You raise an eyebrow at Shae.

“A wedding sounds fun!” you tell her.

“There'll be some drama, that’s for sure,” she teases, “I’ll have plenty of gossip to spill when we get back.”

“If I’m still here,” you joke, causing her to frown.

“It’s still going well though, right?” she asks.

“Yeah it's literally perfect,” you tell her, “though I feel like I’m walking on eggshells now.”

“Keep your head up, you’re doing great,” Shae says, rubbing your shoulder.

You glance at your phone, noticing the time.

“Shoot, I should get them home,” you tell Shae, calling to the boys.

Jace and Luke bound over to you. You hand them their jackets, helping Luke with his. He enjoys the extra attention as you zip him up. Luke is such a little love. He thanks you, and you wave goodbye to Shae, heading back to the highrise. It was such a nice day you decided to walk to the park not far from the Targaryen home. 

Daemon and Rhaenyra aren’t present when you arrive, though the home office door is shut so you assume Rhaenyra is finishing her day. You sit the boys at the counter in the kitchen, plating the dinner that has been prepared by the chef. You lean against the counter, joining them. 

“I don’t like peas,” Luke says, pushing them about his plate.

“They’re better if you mix them with your mashed potatoes,” you tell him.

Jace reaches over to Luke’s plate, swirling his fork in his mashed potatoes and gathering some peas on his plate. Luke lets his elder brother, before scooping the mix onto his fork and shoving it into his mouth. 

“Much better,” he says through a bite, causing you to smile. 

The front door opens then, and Daemon walks into the kitchen, phone against his ear.

“Then we’re going to have to figure this out,” he says roughly, to whomever he’s on the phone with. 

He smiles at the boys, before continuing his conversation. Daemon sounds stressed, and you think it's best to remove yourself and the boys from the kitchen.

“Let’s go to the theater room,” you tell them, clearing their places, “and give daddy some space.”

Daemon wasn’t paying attention before, lost in his conversation with his partner, but you have his attention now. His violet eyes meet yours and you feel a blush begin to warm your cheeks. Daemon smirks slightly, before returning to his conversation. 

You hope you haven’t put your foot in your mouth. You take the evening to yourself after the boys go to bed. A bottle of champagne with a silver bow was left in your bathroom as you returned to your room for the evening. Rhaenyra is too kind to you. You pop the bottle and pour yourself a glass, settling into a soothing bubble bath.

Long after your soak, as you’re reading in bed, a soft knock comes to your door. You had just reached a rather spicy chapter, your mind completely entranced in the text, lower lip caught between your teeth. You jump slightly at the knock, before opening the door and revealing Rhaenyra. 

Her silver hair is flowing freely over her shoulders and she wears a red silk pajama set. She smiles at you. 

“Hey, Rhaenyra,” you say, feeling warm from the champagne. 

“I just wanted to apologize for being so absent today,” she tells you, “work just got away from me.”

“There’s no problem at all,” you tell her, shaking your head, “seriously, it’s what I’m here for.”

Rhaenyra smiles.

“Daemon and I wanted to offer you tomorrow evening off. Laena has agreed to take the boys for a sleepover, and we figured you deserved a night off,” she tells you.

“Thank you so much,” you tell her, unable to stop yourself, “seriously, you’re so thoughtful with the gifts, and now the day off- I really appreciate the kindness.”

Rhaenyra cocks an eyebrow slightly at the mention of gifts, but you don’t really notice. You’re too lost in the sparkle of her violet eyes, her playful smile, and the way her eyes flicker around your face. She watches you with such rapt attention it makes your heart beat faster in your chest. 

“We really like you,” she tells you, reaching out to stroke your cheek.

Your lips part, and you cannot help but let your gaze fall on hers. Pink, plump, and waiting. You blink rapidly. She’s your boss.

“We would really like to keep you,” she tells you, “So we like that you’re happy.”

She strokes your cheek a final time before pulling away.

“Enjoy tomorrow night, have fun, and go out!” she tells you.

As she turns her eyes flicker to the champagne bottle, the half-full glass. She smirks.

“Enjoy the gift,” she tells you, bidding you goodnight. 

You leap back onto your bed as she leaves, rummaging in your nightstand drawer. Your hand finds your vibrator immediately. Surely, fantasizing about your boss isn’t bad? I mean, you’re only human after all. It takes a couple of rounds before you’re finally able to find sleep. 

The next evening you call your best friend, letting her know you’re free. She’s more than excited that you finally have a break. You decide on a pretty fancy club, for drinks and dancing. A much-needed night with your friends. A short silk dress clings to you, the perfect going-out dress. You’re wearing your favorite heels, strappy black ones that creep up your calves.

You’re having a good time, a couple of drinks in when you notice a flash of silver. Daemon Targaryen is there, clad in his signature suit, with rings on his fingers catching in the light. You turn quickly as his head turns your way, tapping your best friend.

“I’m getting another drink!” you tell her above the music, heading toward the bar.

You lean against it, putting in your drink order, trying to steady your nerves. You take a sip from your drink as someone comes up beside you. You know it's him before you look, from the smell of his cologne paired with some expensive cigars. You’ve heard Rhaenyra scold him for smoking but know he does it anyway when out with his investors. 

“I can go somewhere else,” you tell him.

“Why would you do that?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you answer, clearly flustered, all batting eyelashes and rosy cheeks.

Daemon wants to devour you whole. Leave nothing behind. Trailing you across the club and over to the bar has made him feel like a predator chasing its prey; his cock hard in his pants. 

“I just imagine you don’t want to see your au pair when you’re trying to have a night out,” you tell him, nervously licking your lips. 

Daemon watches you, taking a sip from his drink.

“I don’t mind at all,” Daemon murmurs, leaning closer, “in fact, it’s nice to see you having fun and enjoying yourself.”

You shiver at the feeling of his breath on your ear. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, he’s your boss. You really like working for them, working with the boys and you really like Rhaenyra. This is wrong. This is wrong. 

“Thank you again,” you tell him, moving away a bit, “for the night off. It’s really nice of you.”

Daemon nods, noticing your retreat. You glance at the section of the club your friends stand in, they wave at you, beckoning you over. 

“I should go,” you tell Daemon.

“Behave yourself,” Daemon tells you, “and have fun. I’ll see you at home.”

You can’t stop the jolt of pleasure that lands between your legs at his tone. You nod, not trusting your voice, and make your way over to your friends. 

“Who was that Daddy you were talking to?” your friend asks, eyes wide.

“Girl!” you hiss, “That’s my boss.”

Her mouth drops open in surprise as she cranes her neck to get a better look. 

“How do you even work, with all that walking around?” she asks.

You chuckle, taking a sip of your drink.

“You should see his wife,” you tell her, blushing.

She squeals.

“Dirty girl! How do I get your job?” she whines and you laugh some more.

The evening is spent drinking and dancing, harmless fun. Daemon remains in the VIP section, lounging on a couch, sipping his whiskey while conversing with colleagues. His eyes remain on you throughout the evening, keeping you under a watchful eye. You catch him looking several times, a thrill running through you each time you do. It’s harmless fun, right? You’re not actually doing anything. 

As you’re dancing with your friends you feel a hand snake it's way around your waist and you turn, meeting the eyes of a man with dark curls and warm brown eyes. 

“Hey there sexy,” he murmurs, not removing his hand. 

He’s cute. You blush, flattered by the attention. 

“Um hello?” you say, eyes flickering to his hand on your waist before giggling.

“I’m Quoren Martell,” he tells you, continuing to dance with you. 

You tell him your name, enjoying his boldness. You converse with him for a while, and let him buy you another drink. He’s charming and goes out of his way to make you laugh. Quoren Martell is just what you need to get this thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon out of your system. You’re just desperately horny, and a one-night stand will cure that. 

“You want to get out of here?” Quoren murmurs in your ear, “Head back to mine? I have a spectacular collection of streaming services, all the movies and shows you can dream of.”

“Oh really,” you say chuckling, “you want to watch a movie with me?”

“I want to do a lot of things with you,” he answers honestly.

“Let me just run to the bathroom, and let my friends know,” you tell him, smiling. 

You are pushed by people in the club and find your best friend in the bathroom, fixing her makeup in the mirror. 

“I’m going home with that guy, Quoren,” you tell her.

She groans, giving you a quick hug.

“What about your sexy boss?” she asks, pouting.

“Haha,” you tell her rolling your eyes, “I love you, you good?”

“Yeah I’m good,” she says smiling, “have fun, be safe, and leave your location on please.”

“Always,” you tell her, kissing her cheek.

 You walk out the door and down the hallway, heading back toward the music, when a figure walks toward you in the opposite direction. You expect them to keep walking by you, but suddenly hands are on your waist, pressing your back against the wall. You gasp, looking up at the stranger’s face, startled. There’s only a second to realize who it is before he slams his lips to yours. 

Daemon.

His mouth is warm and demanding as his tongue splits your lips apart before darting into your mouth. You moan as his hands squeeze the meat of your ass, pressing you closer against him. Dameon brings one hand to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. Your arms wrap around him, nails dragging against the expensive fabric of his suit. 

Daemon releases your lips, tugging on your lower one harshly with his teeth before bringing his attention to your neck. Whimpers leave your lips and you thrash against him desperately. You can feel him hot, and hard against you- holy shit he’s huge.

It’s enough to rip you from your thoughts previously clouded by lust and you push against him, wiggling out of his grip. Oh no, oh nonononono.

Daemon lets you go, though a surprised expression is on his face as you flee away from him down the hallway. 

Shit. 

You’ve ruined everything.

You’re going to get fired. Maybe slapped. Probably both. 

Oh no, Rhaenyra. 

You hope you can somehow make it back to the highrise before Daemon and explain yourself. Your leg nervously taps in your Uber and you fly out of the car once it stops in front of the building. You push by the doorman and stress the entire elevator ride. 

You don’t bother to remove your heels, running straight for Rhaenyra and Daemon’s room, crashing through the door. Rhaenyra is seated on the couch, feet tucked up underneath her. She looks up as you enter, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Darling-” 

“I need to talk to you,” you gasp, “right now, I- Rhaenyra I am so sorry.”

She gets up, embracing you as tears leave your eyes. You hate that you’ve probably hurt her. She seats you on the bed, sitting next to you, stroking your hair as you tell her what happened. 

“I would never, ever want to betray your trust,” you tell her, “I love this job, I love working for you so much, and this will never happen again, I promise.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” she says, holding your face in her palms, wiping away your tears with her thumbs. 

Your eyes search her face, trying to gauge her feelings, but her expression gives nothing away. Like always, you can’t help but look at her lips, so pink and rosy and begging to be kissed. Rhaenyra’s eyes flicker to yours quickly and you blink. Surely, you’re now seeing things.

But then she leans forward. 

Her lips are just as soft as you have imagined, and you let yourself get lost in the kiss for a moment, before pulling away just as she slips her tongue into your mouth. You gasp, standing up from the bed, trembling. 

“Well,” a voice says, causing you to turn. 

Daemon leans in the doorway, smirking at the sight in front of him.

“Getting started without me?” he says, loosening his tie.

Rhaenya makes a clicking sound with her tongue, reaching to grab your hand. You look at her in confusion. 

“It seems you were getting started without me,” she purrs, tugging you closer. 

Daemon throws his tie on the bed, moving to loosen his cufflinks. 

“It wasn’t my fault,” he tells Rhaenyra, “I had to do something, did she tell you the whole truth of it?”

“What?” you say, now thoroughly confused.

“Ah,” Daemon says, shaking his head, “See? She’s trouble, I told you.”

“I don’t understand,” you tell them, feeling Rhaenyra stroke the back of your hand. 

“She was being a little tease,” Daemon says, ignoring your statement, “about to go home with some silly little boy.”

His words sting. For some reason, you feel embarrassment flood through you. Rhaenyra looks up at you, noticing your pout. She places her hands on your waist.

“We’ve been interested in you for quite some time now,” she tells you, rubbing circles against your hips, “and we believe you’re interested as well.”

Oh shit. 

They know you’ve been thinking about them. Both of them. Your eyes flicker between the two of them.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“What did I tell you about being sorry?” Rhaenyra scolds, “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. We just need to know. Do you want us, baby?”

This is not happening.

“She asked you a question,” Daemon tells you impatiently. 

Rhaenyra gives him a stern look before her gaze softens as it returns to you. 

“I’m not…” you pause, trying to wrap your brain around the situation, “I’m not losing my job?”

Rhaenyra chuckles softly.

“No dearest,” she answers, “we very much wish to keep you, sweet girl.”

You look between them once more.

“Okay,” you breathe, “Yes. Yes, I want you.”

Rhaenyra purrs happily, like a pleased kitten. She pulls you between her legs, grabbing your ass with both hands. She captures your lips in a kiss once more.

“We should be punishing her,” Daemon scolds as Rhaenyra pulls you closer.

“Hush you,” she says to Daemon, as she begins to kiss your neck, “She didn’t know she did something bad.”

“Then she’ll learn for next time,” Daemon says, watching closely. 

You whimper at her touch, as one of her hands snakes up your back to the zipper of your dress. She drags the zipper down, letting the silky material pool at your feet. You’re not wearing a bra, the dress didn’t allow for one, so your breasts hang heavy and needy, nipples pebbling as the air touches them. 

Rhaenyra drags her hands up your sides and you bite your lip, trembling under her touch. 

“Don’t be so cruel, my love,” she scolds Daemon, “not during our first time. We must be gentle with new toys.”

Her hands reach your breasts and she massages the soft mounds in her hands, eliciting a moan from you. Daemon walks closer, you can feel him pressing in behind you as Rhaenyra takes your right nipple into her hot mouth, swirling her tongue over the hardened peak. She sucks the puckered bud hard and you arch your back into her. 

You feel Daemon’s lips caress the side of your neck and your lips part as you tilt your head to allow him better access. Rhaneyra moves her mouth’s attention to your other breast as Daemon sinks his teeth into your shoulder. You cry out, flinging your hand back and grabbing a fistful of his silver hair, the other hand gripping Rhaenyra’s head against your breast. 

She laughs against you as Daemon’s hands move to your panties, dragging the lace material down your legs. The noises you’re making are obscene already at their attention and Rhaenyra releases your nipple with a wet pop. 

“Needy little thing you are,” she murmurs, dragging her hand across your dripping folds, “and so wet already.”

Daemon has crouched beside you, hands on the straps of your heels. 

“Leave those,” Rhaenyra tells him, “I like them on her.”

You feel her slender finger teasing at your entrance, and Daemon lifts your leg, spreading you wide in front of Rhaenyra. 

“I want to see this pretty cunt of yours,” she tells you, curling a finger inside of you.

Your hands dig into her shoulders, your mouth falling open as she slips a second finger inside, slowly curling them against your silky walls. The pleasure blooms in your abdomen like a rose stretching toward the sun. 

“You’ll spoil her rotten,” Daemon says, before capturing your lips in a kiss as Rhaenyra continues curling her fingers inside your pussy. 

She merely chuckles at Daemon. 

“Oh I will, hmm?” she teases, “I’m not the one who’s been leaving her special treats. You think you’re clever, don’t you? Sneaking around at all hours, thinking I won’t know.”

Daemon’s hand moves to your neck, deepening the kiss for a moment before breaking away. 

“Are you angry with me?” Daemon asks her, as Rhaenyra dips forwards, circling her tongue on your clit.

“Please,” you moan, thrashing against her mouth, against his hands that hold you firmly in place.

“Of course not,” Rhaenyra says, answering him, ignoring your plea with another small lick of your clit, “She’s been so good to us, she deserves it.”

Daemon’s hand travels from your neck to toy with your breasts as your orgasm creeps nearer with every stroke of Rhaenyra’s fingers, every flick of her tongue. It’s all too much and suddenly you’re crying out, clenching around her fingers, your arousal dripping down your thighs. 

“You taste as sweet as you look, darling girl,” Rhaenyra praises, removing her fingers from your center. 

Daemon flips you on your back, dragging you to the edge of the bed by your thighs. Your eyes widen at the sight of his massive cock, as he fists it in his hand. The flushed tip is weeping, anxious to split you open. You nervously glance at Rhaenyra who strokes some hair from your face. 

“He’ll be gentle, sweet girl, won’t you, my love?” Rhaenyra says, stroking your face.

Daemon drags his cock along your sopping folds, from your entrance up to your clit. He taps the sensitive button with his fat tip, chuckling as you squirm from the sensation. 

“For tonight, at least,” he says, watching his cock spread your folds once more.

Daemon presses the tip against your hole, pushing into you slowly, stretching out your tight walls. You moan at the stretch his cock gives you before you are silenced by Rhaenyra’s fingers in your mouth. You suckle them, gazing into her eyes as Daemon presses your thighs into the mattress, spreading you wide. The sleek black materials of your heels catch the light as he begins to thrust into you.

You whimper around Rhaenyra’s fingers as his cock splits into you so deliciously, Rhaenyra whispering sweet praises into your ear all the while.

“Fuck you feel fantastic,” Daemon groans, rolling his hips. 

Rhaenyra removes her fingers from your mouth, trailing down between your breasts, down your stomach to play with your clit. You moan as her nimble fingers circle your clit, a juxtaposition to the hard thrusts Daemon gives you. 

“Such a good girl,” Daemon praises, “She should put that pretty mouth to better use Nyra.”

He swats away Rhaenyra’s hand, replacing it with his own, large fingers pinching at your clit. It’s rougher than Rhaenyra’s touch but you find yourself twitching against him at the pleasure it gives you. Rhaenyra rises from the bed, riding herself off her bottoms before crawling up toward your face. She straddles it, lowering her dripping cunt onto your mouth.

You greedily part her soaked lips with your tongue, nose nuzzling against soft silver curls to nudge at her clit. You dip your tongue inside her, relishing the taste of her, the sound of the soft moans that leave her lips. Your tongue explores every inch of her, pressing into different places that elicit more pretty sounds, more desperate grinds against your face. Your chin is dripping with her as you suckle her clit.

“She’s a delight,” Rhaenyra moans and Daemon angles his hips, thrusting against a spot that paints stars behind your eyelids.

You moan against Rhaenyra’s sweet cunt, burying your tongue inside her, stiffening it so she can swirl her hips around it. As her moans reach a new pitch you know she must be close. Eager to please you lap at her greedily, bringing all your attention to her clit until she’s trembling on your face. 

“Such a good girl,” Rhaenyra croons, “Daemon, be sweet to her.”

Daemon snaps his hips against you and Rhaenyra leans down, pressing her tongue against your clit as the head of Daemon’s cock rubs against your spongy walls. The pleasure is too much and you’re cumming once more, clenching around Daemon's fat cock. He thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and finishing on your stomach. 

Rhaenyra pulls herself off of you, and Daemon releases your legs. Your heels are still on, the feeling of being naked with just them on is strange. Daemon walks to the bathroom and you hear him start to fill the tub before he returns with a towel. He gently cleans you, as Rhaenyra draws shapes on your stomach with your fingers.

“We’d like it very much if you stayed, darling,” Rhaenyra tells you, “the children adore you. We adore you.”

She places a kiss on your shoulder. You want nothing more than to stay with them. Both of them.

“I want to stay. With you. Both of you,” you tell her, and she smiles.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Rhaenyra tells you.

“As am I,” Daemon agrees. 

______________________________________________________________

note: hope you enjoyed! as always, comments, likes & reblogs are greatly appreciated, I love hearing your thought! until next time, ily!💖

HOTD TAGLIST GENERAL: @bluevxnuss, @thattargboy, @xlilacfrostx, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @marvelescape, @geminithrone, @deltamoon666, @i-killed-ramsey, @tempt-ress, @eddiemadmunson, @zillahvathek, @hangmanscoming, @jojoesq, @f4ll-for-you, @rwdkarla, @cc13723things, @filipiniamultifandom, @watercolorskyy @alexxavicry @sachafirebringer @polireader @jamespotterismydaddy @grv7ay9In35s @sofiaadler @sophielangdonx @doublesparrows, @sophielangdonx, @alitaar, @castellomargot, @paodemorangol1l1, @nik2blog, @arkainea @eddiemadmunson, @malfoytargaryen, @eudximoniax, @targaryen-world, @ghostheartbeat @savagemickey03, @aemondsdaemons, @candypurplebutterfly, @eddiemadmunson, @xxnaly2, @ghostheartbeat, @savagemickey03, @dieg0brandos-wife, @paodemorangol1l1, @hb8301, @padfooteyes, @valeskafics @doublesparrows, @bornbetter, @beyond-the-ashes, @clairacassidy, @aslanvez, @loglady00, @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly, @minami97, @serving-targaryen-realness, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @possiblyafangirl, @shmexie, @winter-soldier-101, @kaelatargaryen, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @floswife, @mizfortuna, @strawberryduvet, @girlwith-thepearlearring, @arryn-nyx, @namelesslosers, @hopelesswritergall

@coldcomputerkoala, @louislouve, @alicetargaryen @fidelias, @earthangels-things, @shinypoetryface, @klara-lily, @ensnaredinwonderland, @bubblyabs, @green-lxght, @cheerbaitromanjosi, @billiesbeans, @hufflepuff1700, @asumofwords, @angelheavensblog, @natashaobo, @zavriocibrouku, @tssf-imagines, @delilah92590, @shit-posts420, @evattude, @heyykarolina, @brie-annwyl, @wondergal2001, @herondale-girl7, @teteminne, @euphoriahoesss, @mercedesdecorazon,

BOLD MEANS I COULD NOT TAG

#hotd imagine #daemon targaryen imagine #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemrya #modern!au #hotd modern au #fem!reader #daemon x reader #rhaenyra x reader #daemyra x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader #hotd smut #daemon targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen smut #daemon x you #daemon x y/n #rhaenyra x you #daemon x rhaenyra x you #daemyra #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x y/n

[chiptrillino]

[ID: Sokka and zuko from avatar is the last Airbender in a modern setting. both men are sitting on the floor in front of a grey couch. looking defeated, tired and grumpy, around them are opened presents for the pets, and treats scattered around. sokka is looking at the viewer with loose strands out of his tied hair hanging in his face, he wears a blue sweater with Clippy knitted on it wishing a "happy holiday". on Sokka's right sits zuko, one arm propped on the couch behind them supporting his head. he wears a black sweater wishing a "safe Holy day" knitted on it is Santa being carried away by EMTs. behind them zooms a red cat. and in front of them zooms a dog out of the frame chased by a red cat. End Id]

---

pro tip for all th e artist out there! you don't know how to draw animals? zust draw them having the zoomies! i took part at the zukka and friends gift exchange event. and it was varry fun! i made drawings for @onmyliteraturebullshitagain. this one is based on their Midwest Bi Disaster Zukka series! its a lovley au! this is my other entry :D Link artblog: chiptrillino-art

#chip!ask #zuko #sokka #zukka #atla #modern!AU #googeling ughly festive sweaters was the most fun part here :D #(sketching and redrawing up to 5 different scenes not so much.. but that on me ;;;) #(bless freinds patient for me to change a drawft ever night around 1 am for weeks!)

[barbiedragon]

Champagne and Rubies Masterlist

Modern AU: Daemyra x fem!Sugarbaby Verse

🥂 Credit Card🥵

🥀 Drop a Heart (Angst)

🍑 Punishment 🥵

💦 Edge🥵

❤️ Valentine's Day (Romance/Sex)

⛓️ Possessive 🥵

🌹 Rose and Jasmine (Rhae centric) 🥵

🎈Birthday Headcanons

✍️ Study Abroad Headcanons

💔 Run (Angst)

🥃 Tequila 🥵

😛 Rile Up Headcanons 🥵

🖤Little Black Plug 🥵

⚪ Bunnies and Pearls 🥵

❤️‍🩹Broken (angst)

🐶Puppy 🥵

💃Dancing 🥵

♦️Red Velvet Bow 🥵

#fae writes #hotd imagine #daemon targaryen imagine #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemrya #modern!au #hotd modern au #fem!reader #daemon x reader #rhaenyra x reader #daemyra x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader #hotd smut #daemon targaryen smut #rhaenyra targaryen smut #hotd angst #champagne and rubies verse

[jen-with-a-pen]

Dancing in the Kitchen

summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him. or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.

parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention

a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3

If I've missed any tags, please let me know!

gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Everything was cold. 

Everything was ruined.

Everything was a fucking nightmare.

Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.

You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed. 

You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.

It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 

Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 

Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.

Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you. 

“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”

You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.

“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”

You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.

“Tony, please, I–” 

“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”

Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.

Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop. 

“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”

The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.

“Fuckin’ cunt.” 

Click.

You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for. 

This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family. 

A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–

Knock. knock. knock.

In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.

The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.

Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked. 

Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since… forever ago.

This time was unlike the million other times.

You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.

“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him. 

It was then, everything came crashing down. 

You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.

All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip. 

Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home. 

“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.

“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.

“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”

“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”

“What, angel? What about Tony?” 

“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”

Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone. 

He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.

Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake. 

“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”

You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”

The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind. 

He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him. 

Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.

In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.

All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve. 

Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able. 

And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.

Had he always looked at you like that?

“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him. 

You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him. 

“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”

You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin. 

“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.

He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners. 

“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”

Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs. 

As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend. 

“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”

A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.

“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.

“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”

You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”

You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.

“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”

Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”

You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room. 

Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.

You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it. 

Or, liked it.

You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee. 

Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards. 

Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve. 

You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.

But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.

Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach. 

You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.

The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind. 

Bzzt.

You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.

⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready 

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”

The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs. 

“Fuck.”

You opened the door. 

⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.

More like you. 

You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.

You mentally scolded yourself.

“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”

“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.” 

He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed. 

He was what you needed. 

Was he?

You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again. 

“Thank you, Stevie.” 

“You’re welcome, angel.”

You pinched yourself, then took another sip.

Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock. 

Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down. 

“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?” 

His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.

And your life.

“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.

“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”

Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety. 

“Why?”

You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.

“What?”

“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.

Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”

“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–” 

You felt tears again. 

“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”

“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!” 

You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat. 

The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.

As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.

Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.

He’d do it all again for you. 

Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered.

You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.

Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.

It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.

Steve had been there. 

Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years. 

He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn. 

And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over. 

Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision. 

Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.

“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“Since the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you–”

Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.” 

Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”

He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating. 

“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”

He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you. 

“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”

You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”

Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding. 

“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”

His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed. 

You crashed together. 

Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.

He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt. 

Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Never?” 

“Ever.”

You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild. 

#dancing in the kitchen #jen writes #fluff #angst #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #captain america x reader #college!au #modern!au #college!steve #modern!steve #modern!steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #captain america x f!reader #curvy!reader #best friend!steve rogers #best friend! reader #cap quartet au #chris evans #chris evans characters #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers onshot #steve rogers imagine #protective!steve rogers #slightly posessive!steve rogers

[churchofpossum]

I don't have a happy new year thing for this year bcs it sucked and I am just happy it is over. So here's one from last year, no idea if I ever posted it here. So happy new year to you, may all your resolutions come true.

#Geraskier #the witcher fanart #the witcher #Geralt #Jaskier #modern!AU

[tadpolesonalgae]

Up The Junction

ModernYA!Azriel x reader

a/n: set circa 2008, England :) also, this is heavily inspired by Up The Junction by Squeeze if you want to give that a cheeky listen 🧡💛

warnings: angst, smut -> pregnancy, slightly bittersweet ending but I think they’re happy :)

Word count: 7,194

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Will you marry me?”

Your jaw drops open, hands flying to your mouth as you nearly stumble back a step.

He’s down on one knee, presenting a slim, golden band in a simple velvet box, hazel eyes intent and nervous. Slightly jittery as his chest rises and falls.

Your lower lip wobbles, vision blurring, small sobs already wracking your chest. He waits patiently, anxiously, as you try to get the words out, pushing tears away, wiping your nose as you sniffle.

“Yes…!” You cry. “Yes! A thousand times yes!”

Relief sweeps through his body, and he’s wrapping you up in his arms, raising you into the air as he swings you around before lowering you again to the floor, pulling you tight. You cry harder, trying to wipe your nose on the scratchy cuff of your navy jumper, thankful you’d decided to put that wash on a few days ago.

“I promise I’ll be good to you,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion, and you squeeze into him tighter. “You won’t regret it,” he swears, managing to pull away long enough to cup your jaw, pressing a kiss to your tear-stained cheek. “I’d never regret it,” you mumble out, still sobbing heavily, trembling with happiness and that rush of joy. Your whole lives together. That feeling of wanting it to be always; forever—requited.

“I’ll be a good husband to you,” he murmurs thickly, gently holding your hand in his larger one, pulling away long enough to slide the thin band around your ring finger.

Fresh tears drip down your cheeks as you raise it up to the watery sunlight, crying at what it symbolises. “I’ll make a good wife, Az,” you manage, turning to look at him with a wide, wobbly smile on your lips. “We’ll make this work. Together.”

Hazel eyes gleam, able to see your reflection in their glassy surface as he nods, still holding you close. “Together.”

—

You’d moved in together after college, happy and engaged, feeling on top of the world. Like nothing could get you down.

You were going to spend your lives together, how could you ever be sad?

It was tricky in places, but you’d found someone renting their garage, a basement attached, fully equipped with a bathroom, working plumbing, and an in-built kitchen. Sure, it was tight, but it was affordable, and most importantly, temporary. It was okay to start small, to build your way up to a family. Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all.

The basement was dingy, one small window in the far wall of the open-plan room, the bed pushed into the corner beneath it. A sink was along the other wall leading to the door, some counter space available along with a washing machine, hob, and oven. The fridge was kept at the far end of the raised surfaces, adjacent to the bed, squeezed in to fit.

The only slight problem was washing. The bathroom was tiny, the only private space in the basement, hidden behind a waterproof curtain in swimming-pool blue, containing a sink and toilet. No shower or bath. You’d have to hand wash.

But it was fine. The two of you couldn’t be happier living together, having your own space and privacy. A place to start building your home.

It took a while to get on your feet after graduation, but Az had managed to get a job in IT, working to keep things functioning at a local law firm, while you managed to snag a spot as a receptionist at a nearby motel. The hours were difficult, with your shifts constantly being moved around, sometimes working double over a day, sometimes called to be in overnight, switching out at two in the morning to make your way back to the cramped basement.

Azriel’s hours were set, but they were long and tiring, often he would get back exhausted, having to explain the same thing over and over to big-wigs who couldn’t care less about how specialised he was in his area of expertise.

A year later, and you’d gathered enough savings to buy a computer, so Az would be able to work from home in the events of…something happening.

That talk had been had late one night, after he’d gotten back from his shift and you were headed out for your own, how it might be a good idea to start thinking about what the future will hold. Who else might be joining your lives. The conversation had ended with a giddy smile on your face, Az’s eyes practically glowing with happiness, the dimple at the edge of his mouth making its rare appearance at the possibility of a future baby.

And now that safety net was in place, the hunky piece of equipment having taken up a valuable spot of counter space, a bar stool bought so he’d be able to work.

You’d become more relaxed after that. A air of electricity between you, charged and excited, yet neither of you dared address that elephant in the room. The shared desire neither of you had the courage to yet voice. Confined to the dark hours where naked bodies would press together, and he’d go slower, rolling his hips deeper, more tenderly that you were accustomed to, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was you were together, together and in love. So intense it was like wildfire.

The first time that subject had been broached was entirely accidental. He’d been kissing down your throat, your nipples sore from the attention of his touch and teeth, hands gripping your hips firmly with your thighs spread apart. You’d both been so near that edge, shared heat passing between you when he’d brushed a spot inside of you, having you squeeze him so deliciously.

“Fuck,” he’d panted, skin flushed with colour, inky hair flopping over his brow, swept across to one side, curling at its ends from sweat. “So fucking good,” he’d praised, bucking his hips, angling so he’d hit that spot again. “Gonna knock you up. Fill you to the brim.” The orgasm had found you right then and there, crying out as you came, fluttering around him, mumbling how badly you wanted him to take the condom off, to finish inside of you.

It had been the morning after the two of you had finally sat down and discussed those secret thoughts, all you’d needed was the others confirmation, and you were ready. It could take a while to conceive, and you wanted to take action before your fertility began decreasing, chances slipping away.

The process had been draining, with you taking a test each month, wondering if that time would be different, if maybe this time he’d taken root inside of you, instead of your cycle being late. But the cramps started again and again, kicking in a mere few days after you having taken the test, as if to spite you. And each time he’d comfort you, wrapping you in his arms when you opened the the small curtain, shaking your head sadly, with him reminding you there’s still time. You’re in no hurry to conceive; this is why it was good you’d started early. You had more leeway.

But then it had been two years since you’d initially gotten engaged, and still no signs of life.

It wasn’t as if he was lacking either. He was thorough in his attention, making sure to keep his hips pressed tight with your own in the minutes after you’d both found completion, keeping release tucked away inside of you.

Slowly, you began worrying—if it wasn’t him, it had to be you.

So you’d made an appointment, searching for any kind of sign to continue trying. There’s be no point if you really were infertile. What could you do then? How could you build a family if your body was wrecked irreparably. But there had been nothing wrong with you that the doctor could find, so you’d gone home, lost and confused. Why wasn’t anything happening?

Azriel had suggested maybe it was hormones—neither of you could deny you were stressing over the lack of development. You weren’t seeing friends as frequently anymore either. In fact, it had been weeks since you’d last hung out with anyone other than your fiancé, so a trip had been arranged. It had been messy, with constantly changing plans, but eventually you settled on a day. Az, Rhys, Cass, and Nesta would be heading to the theatres, while you, Feyre, and Elain spent a girls day together—likely shopping, listening to music, preparing a dinner for when the others returned.

Your own plans aside, most of the confusion had centred on Az’s end, struggling to find a film they’d all be happy to watch. The decisions had been so tiring and seemingly so endless they’d decided to split and see two separate ones instead—much to Cassian’s grumpiness. Az and Rhys would get to see The Dark Knight—a movie you know he’s secretly been desperate to see ever since the villain’s actor’s unfortunate passing earlier that year. Meanwhile Nesta would be dragging her boyfriend to a film adaptation of a book series she’d been subtly obsessed with for years—Twilight.

The day came, and you had kissed your fiancé on the cheek before heading out, making your way to the bus stop to take you to Feyre and Rhys’ place, where the three of you would be spending most of your time. It had been good getting to see the two of them again. It almost felt like you were back in college, chatting away in the cafeteria, slouched on sofas while the radio blasted out whatever was in the charts.

All three of you had gotten into their truck, Elain the only one with a licence so she took the wheel while driving you to the shopping centre. It was all so exciting! It really had been so long since you’d done something like this, having taken out some money beforehand as a precaution, in case you saw something you really liked. Az had insisted, despite the tight budget you managed to make work.

Elain had grabbed a large ceramic mug, small flowers growing up the sides, while you and Feyre had taken an interest in a pretty pair of ruby red heels, the silver buckle contrasting with the popping colour. There was no way you’d be able to afford them, but it didn’t stop you from dreaming, nor did it stop you from encouraging Feyre to buy them, seeing how her eyes twinkled, her mouth pulling up into a wide smile as you spoke about what to wear with them.

Eventually though, the two of you had left the storefront, finished ogling, Feyre having ultimately decided to leave them be. You couldn’t help feel she knew you wanted them, but were unable to buy them, choosing to move on and pick something else—a matching mug with her sister, insisting on grabbing another for you and a forth for their older sister. If it hadn’t been for the black mug with a howling wolf on the side they’d insisted on getting for Nesta, you wouldn’t have accepted their gift. Though that’s likely why they did it in the first place.

The day came and went, cheeks aching from smiling all day, your new mug kept in your bag, precious and exciting, your heart skipping each time you subtly peeked down to catch a gleam of the glazed surface.

Az, Rhys, Cass, and Nesta had gotten back later as you’d anticipated, and while she made no explicit comment about the film, she’d had an excited air about her, Cassian keeping his arm wrapped around her the rest of the night. Az had given you a happy smile, dropping a kiss to your forehead, asking how your day went, and you’d mentioned the heels before you’d proudly shown him the mug in the privacy of the hallway of Rhys and Feyre’s home. Carefully leaving out the gift part. It had been an act of kindness on their end, and you knew Az would insist on paying one of them back if he knew, so you kept it as your secret.

—

Life resumed its normal pace, but you were feeling happier, more uplifted since having gotten out of the cramped and slightly smelly basement, spirits raised from spending a day with your friends.

And then a few months later, you’d missed your cycle.

You’d hardly dared hope, having rushed to a nearby pharmacy to purchase three tests, shakily handing over the money before hurrying home and drawing the swimming-pool shower curtain to a close to give yourself some privacy.

Az had gotten back a while later, calling out for you as soon as he’d stepped foot in the basement, but had been greeted with silence. Then quiet sobs coming from the bathroom.

You remember it so clearly. How he’d hurriedly strode over to the small washroom, calling out for you, making sure you were okay, concern heavy in his voice. It had been then you’d appeared, a positive pregnancy test held preciously between shaky fingers.

“You’re—…” His eyes had started gleaming then, hot and wet, and he’d wrapped you up in his arms, your feet raising off the ground and he lifted you up, your hands locking over his shoulders as you’d managed a tearful nod. “It’s happening, Az,” you’d cried softly, sniffling, wiping your nose on the worn sleeve of your top. “We’re going to have a baby. It’s really happening.”

He’d squeezed you tighter, before setting you down on the floor, hands lightly gripping your upper arms as you pushed wetness from your cheeks. You hadn’t cried like this since your engagement.

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” He’d asked, brows curved as he searched your face. “You’re happy with this?”

A fresh wave of tears had started all over again, a croaky laugh creaking from your throat as you’d nodded. “Over the moon, Az.”

—

The pace had changed all over again, and you’d noticed how he kept the fridge fully stocked, even if it strained on your budget. More expensive foods had made their appearance, no longer cheaping out to scrape by. If you were eating for two, Az had reasoned, he wanted you to be as well-fed as possible. A good diet was important, and you needed more than pasta with the occasional vegetable cooked in.

It wasn’t soon after that you’d noticed the coffee smell fading from his shirts, becoming fainter and fainter after each big clean. When you’d brought it up to him however, he hadn’t minded, reasoning he’d been needing to drink less of it anyway, and now was as good a time as any to start waning off it.

Parenting books had begun cropping up around the place, briefly making an appearance beside his robust computer before being read thoroughly, and returned to the library, moving onto the next one. You couldn’t help how your lips tugged upward at the edges each time a new title appeared, glancing down at your stomach, no noticeable bump yet showing. Though that never stopped either of you from laying hands over your abdomen, pressing close, treasuring the gift.

You’d told your parents, and Az had broken the news to your friends, and you couldn’t have been happier. Finally, three years into your engagement, things were coming together. Hard work paying off.

He’d been trying to get you to rest more often, but you knew you couldn’t afford to take time off before your maternity leave started. Money was still tight, and you savoured every cheque you received, steadily adding to your savings pound by pound. You knew Az had been working overtime more often, taking every chance he could to bring in some extra cash—every little counted now, and you both knew it.

The evenings you had alone together grew further and further apart though, and while you tried not to fret, you missed spending time with him. Eating together, lounging atop a lumpy mattress before sleep, one of you washing the dishes while the other dried and put away.

But routine had shifted: more frequently you would cook, eat supper, and leave his in the oven to keep it warm for when he eventually made it back. It wasn’t everything, but physical intimacies were rarer too, having a few minutes of conversation and hugging, before he was passed out. In those moments guilt weighted in your gut—he was working himself to the bone, the slight darkness he’d always had beneath his eyes becoming more pronounced as the weeks had worn on.

At one point you’d begun timing your schedule with Feyre’s, catching the bus over to her place whenever she had a gap in her shifts—usually a Wednesday, sometimes a Thursday. Weekends had still been precious though, when Az would be back by five instead of ten or eleven, and Sundays when he wouldn’t be working at all.

Between chatting about your lives, future plans, where you’d like to go on holiday to, the topic pf your baby had come up. It had been a surreal experience, but you’d crumbled a little, admitting how much you were missing him. Feyre had sat quietly and listened to every confession, nursing her tea, contained in one of the matching mugs.

“He isn’t around as much, Fey,” you manage, peering into your tea, tucked up on one of her sofas. “He’s running himself ragged, and I don’t know what to do. It’s dark when he leaves and it’s dark when he returns. He leaves early and comes home late, and I know we…it’s difficult…but I need him,” you admit softly. “I need him to be around, so we can do this together.”

Tears had splashed into your tea then, and you’d both discarded your mugs as she’d shuffled closer, arms wrapping around you as you’d cried into the soft cashmere of her jumper. “Am I being selfish?” You’d mumbled out, throat aching from how you were trying to be quiet. “I know he’s doing it for us, but, I just…”

“You aren’t selfish,” she’d whispered, hand stroking up and down over your back. “It’s difficult, like you said. But it will pass, remember? It’s a difficult patch in your life, but you have to trust it will pass. Things will get better.”

You’d sniffled, nodding into her shoulder, pulling back to dry your teary eyes. Guilt tightening around your throat, constricting across your chest as you felt your heart throb with strain.

“You can always come round here, too,” she’d reminded gently. “If you need to get out, I can move some things around, okay? You’re not alone. I know you’re head over heels for one another, but you’ve got us, too. Whenever you need us.”

The sobs had started afresh, but you managed a wobbly smile, playing with the golden band on your finger—an anxious habit you’d fallen into.

“Thanks, Fey.”

—

Christmas had rolled around, and it was the first time in months—years—you’d all been in the same place at once.

Mor had made it back from the states, Amren joining her on the trip back to meet up with everyone and celebrate.

Rhys and Feyre had hosted, and you couldn’t help but hope this would become a tradition of sorts. You’d missed them all acutely, easy days of college long in the past.

You’d all chipped in one way or another, and an agreement had been made to not do presents all around this year. Just spending time with another, with gifts permitted to be exchanged between couples.

The night had started, and straight off the bat you’d noticed the absence of any sort of alcohol, the sharp scent surprisingly noticeable in its absence, and your heart warmed at the thoughtfulness. You kept tight to Az most of the night, treasuring the minutes you spent together with him, and from the way his arm remained around you in some way, you got an inkling the distance might have been waring on him, too. More than you had thought.

Food was put together, and you’d taken the time to appreciate the scents, how much there was to consume—there’d definitely be leftovers. Pudding was brought out, non-alcoholic fruit cake, as well as some biscuits and other little treats.

Then the small gifts made their appearance, and you’d handed Az the small parcel you’d snuck into your bag earlier that night. He’d given an inquisitive look, a suspicious smile curving his mouth, but you’d grinned, nodding your head for him to hurry up and open it. His brows had risen in surprise when he saw the small guitar picks inside, coloured black, blue, and grey, then one with a flaming skull on.

Hazel had practically glowed as he’d smiled, pulling you tight, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. There hadn’t been much time for him to play in recent years, but you’d noticed how his eyes would sometimes flick to the discarded instrument, kept sealed away, leaned against the grey walls of the basement.

“Thank you,” he’d murmured, pulling away to look at you, before pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I hope you get more time to play this year,” you’d whispered back, hands greedily taking in his heat, memorising his feel while you had the chance.

His throat had rolled, then he’d stepped away, pulling something out from his pocket. “It’s not as good as yours,” he’d admitted thickly, almost nervously, “but I thought you might like it.”

You’d cocked your head, holding your palm out when he’d extended his closed fist, dropping something into your hand. It had been a small bracelet, and a smile had curved your lips when you’d noticed the slightly shoddy clasps, stray thread hanging out on one side. Along the string were some small square beads, the type with letters on you could purchase at a craft store, and you held the bracelet up to read the tiny name he’d spelled out.

“Mama bear?” You read aloud, eyes gleaming with heat as your mouth had stretched wide, a grin broadening your lips as you had beamed up at your fiancé with unabashed adoration. A relieved smile had played on his mouth then, nodding his head, affection clear on his features. “For the strongest person I know,” he’d whispered, hazel eyes soft at the edges.

You’d laughed then, shaking your head, but he’d kept that smile on his mouth, like he could see something you couldn’t, until you’d lightly patted him on his arm, telling him to stop spewing nonsense.

A gasp had drawn your attention away from him, turning to see Feyre opening what looked like a neatly wrapped shoe box, and you could make out the shock on her face. Your smile had broadened, happy she’s happy—Rhys was usually good when getting her presents, a twinge of joy that she’s also found someone who cared so deeply for her.

“What d’you get?” You’d asked, keeping tucked into Az’s side.

Panicked eyes had flitted to you before she covered it up, smiling as she shook her head, as if to say ‘oh, Rhysand’. But then you’d moved forward to see what he’d found for her, and you spotted those ruby heels in the box. Silver buckle gleaming beneath the kitchen lights.

Feyre had stiffened, but a smile had broken across your features, hugging her excitedly. “I’m so happy for you!” You’d whispered as you’d embraced, squeezing her tight and you felt as she began relaxing. Her arms had tentatively squeezed you back, leaning into you. “Thank you,” she’d murmured, before you’d both pulled away, Feyre glancing at your smiling face before reflecting the expression.

She’d pulled back after that, and you’d returned to Az’s side as you watched Feyre hug and kiss Rhys, how he’d smiled like he was the luckiest man in the world, and you couldn’t help the warmth that had spread across your face. You’d glanced up at Az, but his expression was unreadable, hazel eyes watching them intently. The open box on the table.

You’d nudged his side, linking your hand with his, guiding his attention back to you. “Want to get out of here?” You’d whispered, grinning, free palm over your abdomen. He’d swallowed thickly, but pulled together a faint smile, nodding.

The ride home had been quiet. Unusually so.

But sometimes he liked his peace, so you’d been happy to play with the bracelet around your wrist, smiling as you‘d looked out of the window into the dark streets outside.

“Those were the shoes you’d mentioned, weren’t they?” He’d asked into the silence.

You’d stiffened, fingers stuttering over the beads, turning to look at him, but he’d been staring ahead. “They wouldn’t have suited me anyway,” you’d said quietly, trying to push some humour into your voice to comfort him. “When would I have even worn them?”

In the low light you could make out how his jaw had worked. “They were.”

You’d lowered your head, peering down at the bracelet he’d given you. “Yeah.”

There’d been a tense silence, then he’d sighed, running a hand through his hair. “One day,” he’d murmured heavily, nodding to himself. “One day.”

You’d looked at hime again after that, wanting to squeeze his hand. “Together,” you’d added, quietly.

—

Winter had been harsh, and the heating had shut off throughout the basement, though it had been fixed within the week.

You’d kept closer those seven nights, and you’d secretly enjoyed the apparent misfortune. He’d been more attentive during that week, making sure you were kept warm, covering you in various jackets, though neither of you could really afford something tough enough to keep the chill out. But it hadn’t mattered when you were lying together, your back pressed to his front, his arm around your waist, hand settled over the noticeable bump in your stomach.

To this day, you can still remember the first time you’d felt her kick.

How you’d been together in bed, on a cold Sunday morning, and you’d felt something. A few moments later you’d felt it again, and had nearly started crying, gripping for Az’s hand to guide it over your abdomen, excitement glowing in your eyes as your baby had kicked again.

Azriel had smiled wide then, a look of awe on his face, gazing at you before returning his attention to your stomach. You’d watched him then, how his face had lit up each time he’d felt a kick, and that giddiness had warmed you up.

Proud of the father he’d already begun to change into.

—

Eight months in, and morning sickness had been running you thin.

It hadn’t been every morning, but more often than not you’d wake, been allowed a few minutes of peace to enjoy with him, then nausea would be creeping up your throat. You’d give a resigned groan, before rolling (actually rolling) out of bed and wobbling to the toilet to throw up.

Azriel had been there for you at first, holding your hair out of your face, soothing your back, reminding how well you were handling the pregnancy, but as you began staying up later waiting for him to come home, with nothing to do throughout the day, you’d begun sleeping in too. He’d never wanted to wake you—wanting you to have as much rest as possible—so had quietly gotten up and headed off to work before the sun was up, letting you sleep in.

Consequently, you’d be alone through the morning sickness, heaving into the toilet bowl, legs trembling. Sometimes having to spend the first hour of your day changing the sheets after having vomited all over them.

It had been getting harder to cope, without him around. But you knew he was working hard—and you needed the money.

The strain hadn’t been helped when one evening he’d brought the bracelet up. You’d never taken it off, since without a shower or bath, there was no reason to, as a flannel could move around it.

“Did you wear that to work?” He’d asked, when you’d been laying on the bed while he washed and dried the dishes. You were too large to reach at this point, so it made more sense for him to do them. Sound reasoning you had detested as it was just more work for him to do while you lazed around, unable to help or contribute.

“Yup,” you’d replied, smiling again as you’d glanced down at the handmade gift. Your heart had always warmed whenever you read his little message, gradually allowing that possibility to take root. Maybe he really did think you were strong. Maybe you actually were. “Never take it off.”

He hadn’t looked at you as you had anticipated, no smile thrown over his shoulder as he’d continued washing the dishes.

Your brows had narrowed then, worry tightening your throat. “Why?”

Azriel had been silent for a bit, putting the plates away on the drying board. “And your work didn’t mind?” He’d asked. “They didn’t think it was unprofessional? Or distracting?”

“No,” you’d laughed quietly, “they thought it was a wonderful gift, and thoughtful. Nancy complimented it endlessly.” His posture had gone a little rigid, spine stiffening when he moved onto drying. “You showed it to everyone?” He’d asked quietly, and worry had hollowed out your ears. “It’s precious, Az,” you’d replied, “of course I did.”

He’d gone silent then, choosing to focus on rubbing off the water with the dish towel.

“Az?” You’d shifted on the bed, heaving yourself into a more upright position. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he’d replied lightly, carefully putting your special mug aside.

Your chest had tightened, and you’d swallowed thickly before setting your slightly swollen feet on the floor, walking to be beside him. “Az…” you’d murmured, hands wrapping over his forearm, pulling him to a halt as hazel eyes had at last swept over you, dark and exhausted. “Please talk to me,” you’d requested quietly, fingers linking with his damp ones. “What’s bothering you?”

Moments had ticked by, then his eyes had grown hot and wet, brows pulling together as tears had escaped down his cheek. “I’m sorry it was such a shit present,” he’d whispered, hands moving to grip yours when he’d turned to face you fully, crying. “I’m sorry I can’t do more for you. I should’ve gotten you something better, something you deserved.”

Your heart had ached painfully, struggling to keep your own tears at bay, as his head had lowered with shame, hands shaking lightly as he held onto you. He hadn’t needed to bring the shoes up for you to know that’s what it was about. His perceived insufficiency, and inability to care for you.

“Az, I…” You had cut yourself off, trying to choke down tears to comfort and reassure him. He was perfect, how could he ever feel like he wasn’t enough, when he was almost singlehandedly keeping all three of you together and looked after. “Az, I don’t care about presents,” you’d managed, “this?” —you’d nodded to the bracelet— “This I love, because you made it for me. Between all your work, and cooking, and caring, you found the time to make me something I could have on me at all times,” you’d said, tears dripping down your cheeks as you’d stared at one another.

“It’s so important to me, because of you,” you’d cried. “You do so much to look after us, working yourself to the bone… I love you, Az. You’re everything to me. The whole world and more.”

“You don’t—… You don’t regret it?” He’d managed thickly, keeping his hold on your hands. “Being with me?”

You’d shaken your head, trying to get the words out as your throat constricted. “No…no I don’t,” you’d cried, peering up at him. “A thousand times yes, remember?”

His brows had pulled together then, pain gleaming in that swirling cosmos of hazel as he nodded, breathing heavily, leaning over you as his arms had wrapped over your shoulders. You could feel his shudders, your hands gripping the back of his shirt—one of his favourites, a comfort item of sorts, with one of the bands he likes printed on the front.

“I love you, Az,” you’d whispered, shaking together. “I love you for you.”

—

Looking back, things had improved for a bit. Until he’d tried to give more of himself.

That had been when you’d begun crumbling.

He’d pushed himself harder, and had managed to get a part-time job in a car-repair shop, having already been familiar with the maths of engineering and having had a fascination with mechanics when he had been younger.

Just like that, the weekends had been taken too.

He’d leave for work before you woke, stop at six, then help out for a couple of hours after dark, returning when you were asleep. Saturdays and Sundays were no longer spent with him—he’d sold them off. Bargaining his time for your future.

He’d work all day, weekends the busiest as it was when folk with regular nine-to-five jobs would have the time to take their cars round for a checkup, or to be evaluated and told where to go if they were unable to fix the problem. You’d hardly seen him in that final, tiring month of pregnancy.

Would he stop once you gave birth? Somehow you’d begun to doubt it.

You’d admired his conviction, his drive and determination to see something through to the end, until it had ultimately taken him away from you. All when you’d most needed him. No amount of talking had been able to convince him otherwise, so set on being useful. On proving to himself he wasn’t insufficient—that he could look after you.

It had been then that you’d left him. Leaving a sticky note on the oven handle telling him you’d gone to Feyre’s, and that you’d needed space.

And he’d given it.

It hadn’t been unusual to chat through notes, but with his long working hours, you’d treasured the new form of communication. Reading and rereading each one he’d left, memorising his handwriting, the tiny hearts he’d added, or the lopsided smileys he’d doodled before heading out. But that hadn’t been enough for you, so you’d reached for help elsewhere.

A few days had gone by before the landline had rung, your fiancé having become too worried to leave silence for any longer, even if you had requested space. He couldn’t leave you like that.

Not soon after, you’d moved back in with your parents, and the guilt you’d felt when Rhys had offered to be the one to tell Az had nearly had your legs giving out. Shame so crushing you’d felt faint. Especially upon accepting.

God knew you wouldn’t have been able to handle that pressure of explaining it to him. Not when you had been on the verge of giving birth. It would have been any day then, and you’d been under enough stress you’d been worried for the health of the baby.

It had worked out in the end though.

—

The knocker thuds thrice against the hardwood door of your parents house, and you instinctively glance over to little Valerie, but she remains soundly asleep.

Your mother smiles as she passes by, heading for the door since you’re still struggling to walk after being discharged from the hospital on the condition that you rest.

You pull Val closer, wanting to keep her as nearby as possible, the pressure in your chest easing as you look over her, quiet and peaceful—for the moment, at least.

Minutes later your mother returns, a gentle look on her face. “It’s Azriel,” she says hesitantly. “Are you feeling up to speaking with him?” At his name alone you feel your eyes grow hot, but you push the feeling away, glancing down at Val. It’s been five days since you gave birth, and he’s yet to see his daughter in person. He deserves to meet her. So you nod.

Your mother watches silently for a little, before reciprocating the gesture. “Do you want to be alone?”

Your throat rolls, but you manage to answer, “yes…we’ll be okay.” She nods again, before turning to leave, “your father and I needed to get some more shopping in anyway—good a time as any, right?” You smile, before she disappears out of sight, and you breathe deeply, holding Val slightly closer, groaning as you straighten on the sofa.

Footsteps scuff in the hallway, and you brace yourself.

He’s messy tidy. Clearly having made an effort, but unable to conceal the circles beneath his eyes, the exhaustion on his features. Hair a little disheveled, likely from playing with it out of stress as you sometimes used to catch him doing.

“Hey,” you manage, pushing a faint smile to your lips.

Hazel eyes scan you carefully before settling on the bundle in your arms, unable to conceal the emotion that flashes through his face. His throat rolls, raising his gaze to yours. Licking his dry lips. “How are you?” He asks thickly, entering the living room, boots having been discarded at the door.

“Good,” you reply, hoarsely. “Still aching in places, but, you know…”

“Staying strong,” he finishes, voice slightly raw. He nods to himself, “you’ve always been good at that.”

There’s a pause in the conversation, and you look at one another.

Then tears are spilling out from both of you, and you’re trying to hold your sobs in to not disturb Val, while Azriel rubs at his face, trying to get himself under control.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes raggedly, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone like that. I just—… I wanted to look after you. I want you to be secure—for us to be secure, but in doing so I left you all alone, and I’m so fucking sorry. I was so stupid.” You sniffle, wiping your nose while trying to dry your cheeks. “Az, it’s fine. I, I get it. You were just trying to—”

“It’s not fine,” he breathes rawly, hand over his face as he rubs his eyes. “You needed me, and I wan’t there. And I can’t make up for that time. Fuck, I shouldn’t have left you like that. I’m so sorry.”

“Az…” you cry softly, trying to cover Val’s ears so she doesn’t wake.

He looks at you, hazel eyes glassy and red rimmed as he tries to pull himself together, to recompose himself for you. “Can you…do you think you can forgive me? I swear I won’t— I’ll never make such a stupid mistake again.”

“Az,” you sob, “I get it. Fuck, it hurt that you left like that, but how can I be mad when you were doing it to look after us?” The tears drip down your face, breathing in wet gasps as you try to pull it back in, wiping away the tears. “Of course I…of course it was difficult, but it came from a good place, Az. I won’t fault you for trying to look after us. I just— I just wish this hadn’t happened now. During the pregnancy, I mean.”

Azriel swallows thickly, grief clear on his face, looking more wrecked than when he’d first entered. “I’ll be better,” he manages quietly, still stood near the doorway, not wanting to impose if you don’t want him there in that moment. His heart simultaneously fractures and heals when he spots that stupid bracelet still kept around your wrist. He wonders if you’ve taken it off since he gave it to you.

“Az…” you sigh, tears still hot on your cheeks, not wanting to say what you have to. He stiffens at the tone, and it feels like you’ve already told him, hazel eyes devastated.

“Az, I think…I need some time.”

He holds completely still, but you’re practically able to see the world falling apart around him.

“It’s not…I don’t think it’s forever, but…for now. I can’t go back there. Into the basement,” you manage, lower lip wobbling, tugging down at the corners. “I’m sorry.”

“What does that mean?” He asks quietly, hardly a whisper. “Are we…do you not want the ring anymore?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know Az,” you cry, “I need time to think about it all. To figure how to go forward.”

He manages a slight nod of his head, breathing shallowly, then his eyes dip to the baby in your arms. “Can I…can I hold her?” He asks, brows curved desperately.

You nod, sniffling again, managing a small smile. “Yes. Yes, you can,” you breathe, trying to shift to make room for him as he walks over, and you turn Val over to face him.

Azriel settles on the sofa beside you, and you revel in that familiar dip of cushion, deprived of his familiarity for so long. It’s a subconscious shift for both of you, how he’s turned slightly toward you on the sofa, with you leaning into him as he holds your baby with reverent care, wincing at how his hands confront her youth.

“You can’t see them at the moment, but she’s got your eyes,” you murmur, moving closer to him still, taking in his familiar scent, nestling into his body, aching to feel him at your side again.

“She’s perfect,” he whispers, eyes growing glassy, and your smile becomes real and alive again. “She’s in good health too. The doctor’s said she was born at the expected weight, and they had nothing to be concerned over so long as she’s taken care of,” you add, head leaning against his shoulder.

Azriel glances over to you, and your breath catches. The proximity at last returned, alone and together in peace. “You did so well,” he whispers, hazel eyes swirling with emotion. “I’m glad you think so,” you whisper back, fighting off tears.

You settle back into quiet, both of you watching as Val continues sleeping, her little face calm and void of disturbance.

Neither of you really know how you end up holding your baby again, tucked into Azriel’s lap with his arms wrapped around both of you. Your head rests on his shoulder, fast asleep with Val comfortably held between you, both her parents at her swaddled fingertips.

Azriel holds both of you close long after his legs go numb, relieved he hasn’t entirely messed things up. He can’t have, if you’re allowing this. Allowing him to see the baby you made together, even after you had to make her practically on your own.

His arm shifts, thumb swiping over the beads of your bracelet, doubting it knows a surface other than your skin. You held onto it through the uncertainty, through the turbulence he unknowingly subjected you to. Never again.

He’ll never leave you on your own again. Especially not now you share a child.

Azriel’s lips brush against your temple, dropping a long, soft kiss to your skin.

He’ll be better this time. For both of you.

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