#not a clue what hes saying but his voice is very very soothing to me (+ he put on cricket ambiance lol)

[estradasphere]

vacon is so cute...

#hes streaming on youtube rn so im workin on hyhtb while he works on his album #not a clue what hes saying but his voice is very very soothing to me (+ he put on cricket ambiance lol) #i superchatted $5 and he responded with ''thank you so much'' in english. waugh #vaconposting

[libraryofgage]

Pirate/Mermaid Steddie One

There is way more mermaid culture world-building than I intended, but that's the fun part lmao

This part discusses injuries, has a mention of mutilation in passing, and involves stitching up a large wound. Nothing is graphic, but there are some descriptions of pain

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future parts!

As always, if you see any typos no you didn't

----

There were a few things Eddie expected from this raid. Gold, of course. Supplies like food, obviously. Some new weapons, surely.

A fucking mermaid? Nowhere near that list of expected things.

And yet, here he stands in the doorway of the raided ship captain's cabin, caught in a staring contest with a merman that's definitely seen better days.

He's stuck in a tiny wooden tub, his tail forced against his chest as the rest of it flops over the edge and trails the floor. His blue-and-green with inexplicable hints of orange scales are dull, too dull, and Eddie is trying really hard to control the sheer rage he feels at the jagged cut that drags down the middle of the tail and through the fin at the bottom. The edges of the wound have crusted over, but it still looks painful, and Eddie knows it was meant to keep the merman from using his tail to escape.

Eddie takes a step into the cabin, ready to just scoop the merman up and take him back to his ship. But he stops when the merman tenses, his entire body somehow becoming more rigid. His hands on the edge of the tub tighten, his sharp nails digging into the slowly rotting wood. He's staring at Eddie like he's some new threat, which seriously is not gonna help with the whole "take the gorgeous merman with incredible hair and alluring brown eyes back to his ship and nurse him back to health" thing.

Eddie freezes and holds his hands up. "Sorry," he says, keeping his voice low and soothing. The merman doesn't relax much, but his nails are no longer digging into the wood. Eddie figures that's a tiny win.

"I'm Captain Eddie of the Corroded Coffin. We didn't expect to find you here, sweetheart."

The nickname just slips out, an unthinking attempt to butter the merman up and an admission of his own thoughts. The merman's eyes narrow, slowly looking Eddie over as though sizing him up.

Eddie lets him, perfectly content with standing still if it means the merman will give him even one iota more of his trust. "That doesn't look very comfortable," he says, nodding to the tub. "Would you like some help?"

The merman relaxes a little more, and Eddie has no clue what he did to cause that. Before he can think too much about it, the merman points to a dresser on the other side of the room, looking at Eddie expectantly.

"You want something from there?"

The merman nods, which tells Eddie he at least understands human language. That doesn't give him any idea if the merman can speak it, though.

He walks over to the dresser and looks at the merman, pointing to each drawer in turn until the merman nods. The fourth drawer is, apparently, the correct one. When Eddie opens it, he finds a small treasure trove. It must be a collection of trophies from the ship captain's previous raids.

A quick glance reveals a gold crown with rubies, several diamond rings, a few silver bracelets with various gemstones along the bands, and a pearl and seashell necklace thrown on top. Eddie knows the merman probably wants that necklace most, but he can't help thinking of a rumor that mermaids like shiny things.

The drawer is full of shiny things.

He hesitates for less than a second before pulling out the entire drawer itself and turning around. "I'm not sure what you want from here," he lies, smiling apologetically at the merman. "Can I come close enough to show you?"

The merman stares at him before slowly nodding once, suspicion practically radiating off of him. Eddie flashes a more genuine smile and slowly approaches, giving the merman enough time to reject his presence. When he's a few steps away, Eddie crouches and tilts the drawer so the merman can see what's inside.

Immediately, the merman reaches out and snatches the pearl and seashell necklace. The gills on the side of his neck flutter slightly as he puts it on, and Eddie wonders if that's a sign of relief. "Was that everything you wanted?" he asks.

The merman glances at him, one hand still lingering on the necklace. He glances down at the drawer again, seeming to argue with himself before reaching out and removing the crown and every bracelet. He carefully slips the bracelets on and clutches the crown in his hands.

"Anything else?" Eddie asks, his tone indulgent. It must be reassuring, though, because the merman looks at him with curiosity more than anything else. It's like he's trying to figure out what he can get away with.

A few seconds pass before the merman glances down at the drawer. His gaze lingers at the edges, and Eddie starts to wonder what could possibly be there when the merman points at one of his rings.

Eddie blinks, following the merman's finger to a chunky ring. It's shaped like a bat with emeralds for eyes and diamonds for teeth. It's one of Eddie's favorites; he found it on his first raid, took it right off the captain's hand himself. Nobody has ever dared ask to touch it, let alone have it.

Without a second thought, Eddie puts the drawer down, slips the ring off his finger, and offers it to the merman. It sits in the palm of his hand, meaning they'd have to touch if the merman really wants it that badly.

Slowly, the merman reaches for the ring, his nails tickling against Eddie's palm as he takes it. From the light brush against Eddie's fingers, the merman's skin is cool, exactly like jumping into the ocean on a hot day.

----

Steve is a firm believer in the power of small comforts, especially as it relates to the growth of his guppies. Dustin has long outgrown his baby tail belt, but he still wraps it around his wrist every morning. El and Will no longer need the seaweed and coral dolls Steve made for them when they were barely able to swim a straight line, but they still tuck them in every night.

So, when the human (Eddie, Steve reminds himself) offers up a drawer filled with shiny jewelry, Steve doesn't hold himself back. The bracelets make him feel grounded, the crown gives him something to clutch without the risk of breaking it, and the ring...

Well, the ring was more to see if Eddie's actions would match his tone. And because Steve thought it was fascinatingly grotesque. What kind of creature would have wings without feathers? Sure, the gulls he sometimes sees near the surface are confusing, but the ring depicts something even further beyond his imagination. What's up with the sharp teeth? Why must the eyes be green? Does it know it's a freak of nature?

Anyway, the jewelry helps. Steve uses it to distract himself from the sheer agony screaming from his tail when Eddie lifts him out of the cramped tub. He thinks about which bracelet he'll give to which guppy (Robin will get the crown) when the edges of his tailfin graze against Eddie's legs as he confidently walks across a plank connecting the two ships. He closely studies the featherless wings on the ring to avoid thinking about what's to come when Eddie sets him down on a large, surprisingly comfortable bed in another private cabin and starts gathering a needle and thread.

There's not much left to distract him when Eddie kneels next to the bed and looks up at him, his eyes reminding Steve of his guppies when they've done something bad and need him to clean up the mess.

"This is gonna hurt," Eddie tells him, his voice soft and gentle and full of regret as he grabs a bottle from the table next to the bed.

The liquid inside is clear, and Steve would think it was water if his nose hadn't been hit with such an astringent scent when Eddie opened it. Before he can fully process the smell, Eddie tips the bottle and pours the liquid onto Steve's tail.

An involuntary screech rips out of his throat, a burning sensation clawing along the cut and making his scales buzz. Without thinking, Steve grabs Eddie's wrist and yanks it away, his lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals sharp teeth. Despite the physical pain, Steve thinks the worst part is that he let himself get distracted by small comforts and warm brown eyes and Eddie's soft voice.

He should know better.

"Shit," Eddie mutters, quickly dropping the now-empty bottle to the floor. It cracks but doesn't break, and he looks up at Steve. "I should've explained that better. Holy fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I had to clean it. If I sewed it up without doing so, it might get infected."

Steve narrows his eyes, his grip tightening briefly as he studies Eddie's face. He seems genuinely apologetic, and Steve understands his intentions once he's processed Eddie's words. Steve had to do something similar when Mike and Lucas bothered a shark too much. Their wounds weren't nearly as bad as Steve's, but they'd still cried and shouted when Steve and Robin had to pull teeth and bits of coral out of their wounds before wrapping them in seaweed.

"I'm done with that part, though," Eddie says, his voice practically desperate for Steve to understand. "You can squeeze my shoulder or something while I sew it up."

A few seconds pass before Steve nods once, slowly letting go of Eddie's wrist. As Eddie starts threading the needle, Steve places his hand on his shoulder, bracing himself for the upcoming pain by squeezing the crown in his other hand.

Eddie takes a deep breath as he glances up at Steve. He licks his lips, looking back at the top of the cut. "Okay, I'm starting now," he says, waiting long enough to see Steve nod before starting the first stitch.

The alcohol hurt. The stitching is a fucking bitch. But, honestly, none of it is as bad as when that first disgusting human dragged a dagger through Steve's tail. He still hisses, gripping Eddie's shoulder tighter and unable to stop his nails from digging into his skin. Despite how it must hurt, Eddie doesn't flinch, and Steve feels a little better.

"You know," Eddie says, mostly focused on keeping his hand steady and his stitches even, "I wish I knew your name. I can't keep calling you sweetheart."

He could. Steve wouldn't mind it. But he also knows it isn't entirely fair that Eddie doesn't know he can speak. They'll need to be able to talk, Steve thinks, if they're going to be around each other for a while longer.

And Eddie has been kind enough that Steve wouldn't mind being around him for however long it takes his tail to heal.

"Steve," he says.

To his credit, Eddie doesn't drop the needle. He does tense for a moment, his hand pausing as he looks up. "What?" he asks.

"My name. It's Steve."

"You can talk."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Eddie hums, looking back at the cut as he starts stitching again. "You didn't say anything before," Eddie says.

"The last human who saw me mutilated my tail," Steve replies.

"Fair. Is, uh, is your name really Steve?"

"That's the closest translation to your language."

"What's your name in your language?"

Steve hesitates for a moment before clearing his throat. He feels his gills flutter, trying to create the bubble pattern that accompanies his name as he lets out a rhythmic series of squeaks and clicks with a short hiss at the end.

A few seconds pass after he's done. And then Eddie nods once and says, "Steve it is. How'd you get caught, Stevie?"

Ignoring the slight urge to point out that Eddie said his name wrong, Steve frowns slightly. "One of my guppies got caught in that ship's net. I got them out but was caught myself."

"One of your...guppies?"

"Yes. You would call them...children, I think?"

Eddie has nearly reached the middle of Steve's tail by now, and his hand falters once more. "Children? Aren't you...a little young?"

Steve bristles, glaring at Eddie. He's heard that same question plenty of times from members of other pods before, and he's tired of it. "What does it matter if they are happy and healthy?" he asks.

"Sorry," Eddie whispers, glancing up at Steve. There's something he can't quite read in Eddie's eyes. "Do you raise them alone?"

"What? No, of course not. My partner, Robin, raises them with me. We have seven guppies, with an eighth on the way."

"An eighth?!" Eddie asks, sounding strained as he pauses his stitching once more to look up at Steve. "Shit, man, shouldn't you give Robin a break?"

Steve blinks, tilting his head slightly. "Why would she need a break?" he asks.

"She's already popped out seven!"

Suddenly, Steve realizes what the disconnect is. He blinks once more and dissolves into laughter. "Oh!" he says, the exclamation broken by a giggle as he tries to calm himself down. "No, no, she is my partner, not my mate. Besides, she doesn't even like mermen."

Eddie seems to relax at Steve's explanation, his shoulders dropping and his voice significantly lighter as he starts stitching again and says, "Oh, I see. Then whose kids are they?"

"Technically, they belong to the pod," Steve explains, gritting his teeth as Eddie reaches the tailfin. He feels warm all over, his nerves jumping and his scales feeling half-ready to just fall off. "Each pod has at least two caretakers. Mates have a guppy and let caretakers raise them while they focus on their own roles within the pod."

"Do you like being a caretaker?"

"Yeah," Steve says, managing a shaky smile despite the tugging on his tailfin and Eddie's fingers pressing against his scales. "They're my guppies. I'd drain the oceans for them."

"And, uh, what about your mate? Do they mind you being so...devoted to the guppies?"

It's not at all subtle, but Steve finds it oddly endearing nonetheless. He slowly exhales, forcing himself to loosen his grip on Eddie's shoulder. "I don't have one."

Just like before, Eddie seems to relax some at the answer. He also finishes stitching, tying off the thread with a secure knot before carefully cutting away the excess. "Well, uh, we'll get you healed up and back to your guppies as soon as possible," he says, looking up at Steve.

"It needs to be wrapped in kelp. And, uh, I'll need a tub. You know, with seawater."

Eddie nods along, flashing a reassuring grin. "Don't worry, Stevie, I'll get you anything you want," he promises.

"Anything?" Steve asks, leaning forward some as he tilts his head.

"I already gave you my favorite ring, sweetheart."

Steve glances down at said ring, wondering what about it could possibly make it Eddie's favorite. He can't immediately figure it out, but that doesn't change the sweet warmth and anticipation for the time he'll spend with Eddie that he suddenly feels.

#steddie #steddie fic #high seas steddie #that's gonna be the fic tag for this series btw #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fluff #my writing

[carolmunson]

it's like sugar sometimes.

(older!modern!dad!eddie)

welcome back to the: orange colored sky setlist a/n: this can be read as a stand alone, give or take some references. but as a pre-cursor: you and eddie are about twelve years apart, meeting in late twenties early thirties, his late thirties early forties. you're deeply in love and we're fast forwarding a bit and now you have a kid. shout out to my nephew because without countless videos of him being the same age as the baby in this fic i would not now how babies baby. cw: pure fluff. pure dad eddie goodness. pretty tame. some mild arguing and swearing. some saucy kisses at the end. a new entry for the fall frenzy extravaganza. this fall frenzy is in honor of @jo-harrington who said i could do whatever, so here we are lmao.

songspiration: how sweet it is (to be loved by you) | james taylor

The ride to the orchard is going much better than you were expecting after such a rough morning. Tears from the moment Gwen came into your room just before four in the morning because she had a bad dream. Then it was too hot for her in bed with both of you, then she was too cold, then Ed’s snoring kept you both awake until she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Then there was the kicking and stretching and rolling around. Aren’t they supposed to sleep like logs? She just turned three. Ed woke up refreshed, frowning when he turned over to see you sitting up against the headboard reading with puffy tired eyes. “Hey,” he says softly as to not wake Gwen who was curled up into his side, “She come in last night?” “Another bad dream,” you shrug, looking at him over your book, “I don’t know if she’s really having them or if she’s just starting to have a little regression period. Maybe we can get her a new night light or something.” “Why don’t you try to go back to sleep for a little and I’ll get her ready,” he asks, voice still raspy from sleep, “I’ll just take her into the shower with me.” You smile lazily at him and nod, looking over at the clock on his night stand – a little past six. Maybe an extra forty-five would do you some good before you went to the orchards upstate. Gwen’s eyes open up to her dad awake, her face contorting when she sees him. “Had a bad dweam,” she sniffles, reaching her arms out. “Poor Gwen, you had a bad dream?” Eddie coos, pulling her up out of bed with him, “Tell me all about it, angel.” Her babbles echo down the hall even after Ed closes the door behind them.

Piercing sobs woke you up instead of your alarm, though that went off right after to remind you that there’s a whole day you have to start. You rub your eyes and groan, sliding out of bed and stepping into your slippers. You grab your robe, shrugging it on as you leave the bedroom and wincing while another cry pours out of your toddler and goes straight to your chest. “I know, honey, I know,” you hear Eddie soothe, “But we’re gonna go do something so fun. You wanna go pick a pumpkin, right?” “No pumpki-i-in,” she sobs, deep and guttural. You open the door to her room slowly, a very teary Gwen stands in the corner, hair wet in a new set of pajamas. You look at Eddie, pulling out an outfit for her and laying it on her toddler bed. “What’s goin’ on, in here?” you ask gently. “Gwen doesn’t wanna get dressed to go apple picking,” Eddie says quietly, “She wants to watch Blue’s Clues.” “Wan’ see Bl-blue, mommy,” she sobs, “Pwease.” “Hey, hey,” you try your best to settle her, “Thank you for saying please, honey. We can still see Blue but daddy has to get you dressed first.” “Did she eat?” you ask, pulling Gwen up to your hip while she cries into your shoulder. “Yeah, she had some mini waffles and a banana,” he opens her closet and fishes out a tiny pair of Chuck’s to go with her outfit – a little black sweatshirt screen printed with the Halloween movie poster paired with a set of leggings meant to look like jeans. “Did you eat?” you smile, coming over to him to plant a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, her leftovers,” he laughs, “There’s a cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter.” “Thank you,” you nudge him, feeling Gwen squirm and whine while she tries to shimmy down from your hip, “Okay, okay.” “Gwen, please,” Eddie begs with a twinge of frustration in his voice when she makes it to the door, on her tiptoes to reach the handle, “Let’s just get you dressed and you can watch Blue’s Clues while we do your hair.” She stomps, wet curls bouncing with her when she does, “Wanna watch now, pwease!” “Thank you for asking nicely Gwen, but that doesn’t always mean you get your way,” he explains. She shrieks, loud enough that your eyes squint, stomping again onto the fluffy white carpet below her, “I wanna watch Blue’s Cwue’s!” “Why don’t you take a deep breath for me, huh?” Eddie asks her, he pats your lower back on the way to the door. A silent way of letting you know to just go get yourself ready, he can handle the rest, “Do we need to take a time out?” “No time out,” she starts to cry again when you slip out of the room. More frustrated whines and wails boom down the hall, dissipating while you make it down the metal staircase to the coffee on the counter. Your heart swells when you notice that he already emptied and reloaded the dishwasher. 

After you’ve packed some snacks for later and gotten yourself dressed, you make your way back upstairs. You approach the bathroom with your coffee in hand, Gwen’s sippy cup full of water in the other. Her bubbly squeals respond back to whoever is talking to her, barely looking up from Eddie’s phone to look at you when you open the door. 

“Who’re you talking to, miss girl?” you ask, putting her sippy cup next to her on the bathroom counter. “Steeb,” she says, eyes glued to the screen, much happier than she was before. “She’s watching 90s Blue’s Clues?” you laugh at your husband who’s busy splitting her Gwen’s hair into a middle part, looking in the mirror that she’s sat in front of. “No, she’s FaceTiming with Steve,” he shakes his head, pulling one section back into a high pigtail. “Hi peach!” Steve’s voice rings from the phone, he lowers it back down to parentese to address Gwen, “Is that mommy? Can you say hi to her for me?”  “Steeb say hi,” Gwen says, lifting the phone up, showing the screen to the ceiling of the bathroom. You take the phone for a second, seeing Steve’s annoyed face in the frame. 

“You’re on thin ice,” he says, his fiancee’s laugh ringing out of frame, “I can’t believe you’re going this week when we’ll be there in two. You always go before we come to visit.” “There will be plenty of apple picking trips to do together when we move, I promise,” you assure, “She starts gymnastics and swimming next weekend, we won’t have another time to do it.” 

“Gymnastics?” he asks, “Does she have tights? Leotards? What can I get her?” 

“She has like, I don’t know Steve – forty leotards? She’s gonna grow out of half of them in six weeks,” you explain, “Don’t worry, your husband got it covered.” Eddie snickers, wrapping an elastic around one of the ponytails in his fingers. “Well if she’s gonna grow out of them then she’ll need more,” he scoffs, “I’ll get some sent over.” 

“You’re impossible,” your eye roll is something Steve is just as used to as Eddie is. Gwen whines again, reaching for the phone with grabby hands, a quiet ‘Steeby’ escaping her. “I can hear her asking for me, gimme back to my girl,” he sighs. You hand the phone back to Gwen who giggles when Steve makes a funny face at her through the screen. “Look how pretty those ponytails are. Daddy did such a good job,” Steve coos at her. “We payin’ be-yoo-dee sawon,” Gwen explains. Eddie looks up at you, whispering ‘Can you grab her bows for me?’ You nod, reaching into the bottom drawer to snatch a basket full of bows, holding them out to him while he picks. 

“Beauty salon,” Eddie corrects softly, “Orange or black bows?”  “Bwack,” she says, waving him off like you do when you’re busy, “I’m on da phone, daddy.” “Yeah,” you say, meeting her sass, “She’s on the phone, daddy.”

He lets a ‘pfff’ push out of his lips while he grabs two black bows from last halloween, little sparkly spider webs parked in the center. You leave them to it, heading down to get the car packed up and make sure you have Gwen’s bag set up before you leave. 

Despite the dramatics, the ride is going well. Gwen happily eats an apple sauce packet in her carseat while the two of you sip on coffees and eat breakfast sandwiches from a drive thru off the highway. It’s nice to get out of the city for a while and get Gwen used to the idea of not being in it anymore. The drive consists mostly of James Taylor’s greatest hits because Gwen is her Grandpa Wayne’s baby before she’s anyone else’s. She hums along to Carolina and sings only the chorus of Mexico. Her favorite song is Mockingbird even though it’s Carly Simon featuring James Taylor. The two of you throw it on the record player every other day to sing it to her, even if she doesn’t ask for it. It’s selfishly your favorite song, too, just ‘cause you get to see your husband play along with you. “And if that better way ain't so, I'll ride with the tide and go with the flow, And that's why, I keep on shoutin' in your ear, Saying (yeah, yeah) whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-oh.” You lean your head back on the passenger’s side to make eye contact with Gwen through the visor mirror who giggles back at you. She mimics your ‘whoa-whoa-whoa’, shimmying in her carseat with her shoulders. Gwen’s no stranger to shimmying, always finding some way to dance off beat to Ed’s music when he plays at a venue she can be at or practices at home. His number one fan. 

“Oh-wange twees, mommy,” Gwen says, tiny finger pointing out the window at the foliage lining the road. “I see them, aren’t they pretty Gwen?” you nod back at her. Eddie’s head turns slightly to watch her watch the trees, eyes shining at each change of color hits her. His heart beats a little quicker knowing she’s able to make those distinctions between orange, red, and yellow – too smart, getting too big. “Daddy’s git-tah,” she yelps, pointing hard at a tree covered in dark red leaves while Eddie slowly turns down the entrance of the orchard. Gwen lets out a tiny ‘woah’ when the car jostles that makes him laugh, he wishes she’d stay this little forever. “Yeah, that’s the same color as daddy’s guitar, good job sweetheart,” he smiles back at her, “Are you ready to pick some apples so we can make Uncle Stevie a pie for when he visits?” “Ya!” She nods, happy and excited. She doesn’t know what he said, but whenever he talks to her with a smile she’ll do whatever he asks and vice versa. Still ‘sort of rockstar’, definitely ‘meant to be father’. Parking is less of a nightmare than expected since it’s early in the day – most families come after the first morning nap, at least that’s what the mom groups told you on Facebook. Gwen hardly naps anymore, but you won’t be surprised if she knocks out earlier than usual tonight. Eddie gets the backpack full of Gwen’s essentials and you grab the baby. “I have to carry you through the parking lot, babe,” you say when she starts to bounce in your arms, eager to run on the grass in her sneakers. “Wanna walk, please,” she begs, her hands on your cheeks while you make your way towards the entrance. “You can walk when we get inside but there’s lots of cars out here and no stop lights,” you say, batting her hand out of your hair when she reaches for it, “I’ll put you down in a little bit.” “You think we should take the stroller?” Ed asks from the trunk. “They have wagons, we can just pull her around,” you shrug, “I don’t think the back up stroller is good for this kind of place, we’d need the one at home.” Eddie shrugs, joining you on your walk to the entrance to get your empty bag and your wagon, putting Gwen at the back as you get to the trees. “Walk, please,” she begs again. You hesitate, it’s just too big of a place and she’s a runner, “Honey, I would love it if you–” “Let her walk,” Eddie says, “She’ll get bored after a few minutes and wanna watch anyway, just let her walk.” “Come here Gwen, hold my hand,” he says, offering a tattooed hand to her pudgy one. She clumsily crawls out of the wagon, bouncing over to her dad to put her hand in his. He pulls her up once, making her squeal and giggle as she floats next to him. “More, more!” she laughs, letting Eddie swing her ahead a few more times while you all make your way through the trees. 

She likes apple picking more than you expected, arms up constantly to be lifted onto the branches to grab some off of every few trees. Gwen had a good eye, better than you and Eddie, for super crisp ones – pointing up and jumping to get at them. If she was a little bigger you wouldn’t be surprised if she climbed up the trees with the ease of a jungle cat. Your husband encouraged it, climbing up the branches like he was still twenty – sitting with his legs dangling off and having you pass your toddler to him. “Please be careful,” you warn, passing her up to him. “Babe, I know what I’m doing,” he scowls, a hint annoyed before changing his expression for Gwen when he helps her onto the low branch with him. “You don’t have to be a jerk, I just want her to be safe,” you snap back. “And I’m keeping her safe,” he says with a smile as to keep your daughter none-the-wiser. Still looking at Gwen while she reaches for another apple. She hands it to Eddie who hands it to you, your fingers brush. “Sorry,” he says, looking down at you, “I’ll be careful. We’re not very high, but you’re right. I’ll be careful.” “Thank you,” you nod, taking the apple and pressing a ghost of a kiss to his knuckles. He blushes red, red, red. Red like the leaves, red like his guitar. “Why s’pink, daddy?” Gwen asks, passing him another apple. “I just love mommy very much, honey,” he smiles, pressing a kiss into her hair, “She makes me turn pink like a heart.” “Like on da phone,” she says, clinging to him like a koala when he slides down off the low branch with her. “Yes, like on the phone,” he nods. You’re not Peach 🍑 in his phone anymore. You’re The Wife 💗. Right now he’s Gwen’s Dad in your phone because you got in an argument two months ago and haven’t changed it back to Rockstar Husband 🎸❣️because ‘Gwen’s Dad’ makes you laugh too much. He hates it. “How you like them apples, G?” you ask when Eddie puts her down in the wagon, she looks up at you confused and shrugs; brown curly pigtails bouncing at she does. “Kids today,” you shake your head at Eddie while you press onward, “No culture.” 

“No culture,” he agrees enthusiastically. 

You peruse, the bags you bought are filled to the brim with apples. Some red, some green, a few yellow so Gwen can try them and see if she likes them. It’s a calming walk, the chatter of other families, the squeaky roll of the wagon, the rustle of the trees when the early autumn wind catches them. Eddie holds your hand loosely, always needing to keep touching you in some way, always wanting to keep you close to him. You look back, Gwen going between looking around at the other families and playing with her V-Tech phone. Eddie goes from walking slow to speeding up to make the wagon jostle just to hear Gwen’s giggles peal through the trees. After about an hour of walking and picking, you’re about as pooped as your toddler should be. Once you get to the tree line you see the farm and market down at the base of the hill, a little relieved that you’ve all made it to the end of the road unscathed. 

That is, until Gwen climbs out of the wagon when it comes to a stop and without warning, books it towards the edge. 

“Gwendolyn Rose!” Eddie’s call is rough and loud out of fear, but it sounds like anger. Gwen stops short, startled, falling backwards onto the seat of her leggings. Like clockwork the first whine starts, building up into a needy, sad wail. You know they’re crocodile tears so you keep your pace with the wagon behind you. Your husband however, despite the constant reminder that she knows he’s easy, rushes forward without a second thought. “Oh no, my baby girl, shh, shh. I’m sorry,” he coos, reaching down to hoist her up onto his hip, “I didn’t mean to yell, sugar. You just got daddy scared is all. I’m not mad.” Gwen wipes her face, pushing away tears that never fell, sniffling and hiding her face in his neck. He rubs her back while she settles, guilt tugging on the lines between his brows. 

“No baby girl,” Gwen pouts, “I’m big girl.” 

“Oh that’s right, you’re my big girl,” Eddie grins, kissing her cheek. She’s not amused, frowning down at him while she pushes up against his shoulder to squirm out of his hold. “That’s a very grumpy face, Gwenny,” you giggle.  “Hey, are you mad at me?” he asks up at her before popping her back down onto her feet at the edge of the tree line, “Why’re you lookin’ so mad?” 

“I’m big,” she announces, little foot stomping on the grass below her. Eddie lets a sigh out through his nose and kneels down to her level. She takes several deep breaths and you both know it’s the beginning of what could be a very long second tantrum of the day. “I know, you’re a very big girl,” he nods, “But what do mommy and daddy say you have to do when we don’t have you in the stroller?” “Hode hands,” she repeats back in a whine. “That’s right, we hold hands – and if we’re not holding your hand you’re supposed to stay close, right?” He watches her nod, tucking a finger under her chin to make sure she’s absorbing what he’s saying. Her lower lip juts out, cheeks puffing while her shoulders sulk. “I walk by - by mysewf,” she urges, sniffling, “Pwease.” “Not today, sugar. I’m sorry,” he sighs, cupping her cheek in his palm, “I have a fun idea, do you wanna get on daddy’s shoulders and you can tell us how far we are from the farm?” She brightens up a little, giggling when he reaches down to tickle her sides before scooping her up to lift over his shoulders. He groans the way old men groan when they lift something and you stifle a laugh, smiling up at Gwen when she smiles down at you. “Hi mommy,” she beams, waving her tiny hand.  “Hi baby,” wave back lazily, the shoddy sleep you had last night starting to settle into your eyes. “Do you see the farm, Gwenny?” Eddie asks, she nods enthusiastically, “Maybe we can go get you a donut, how does that sound? Will that make you happy?”

“Ed,” you click your tongue, “She’s never gonna get to sleep later.” “We’re making memories, babe,” Eddie says, reaching up to hold Gwen’s hands to keep her steady, “Some extra sugar won’t hurt her.” 

“Yeah, you love extra sugar, don’t you?” you laugh. 

“Matter of fact, I do,” he smirks, shooting you a wink. He laughs when he sees two of those twelve foot Home Depot skeletons posed outside the front of the market, promoting their haunted hayride with signs and other silly decor, “Shit, that’s fuckin’ metal – s’ridiculous.” 

“S’dic-yoo-liss,” Gwen repeats. “S’ridiculous, Gwennifer!” Eddie repeats back in concurrence. “Sss’tick-you-luss,” she bounces, laughing when he laughs. They have the same one, though his has years on hers, gruff with age, with cigarette stains. 

Pumpkins get picked, warm donuts devoured, the morning finally feels like it’s coming to a close. You park Gwen down at a picnic table while Eddie goes to get the goods, hanging out with your threenager who can barely keep her eyes open. You’re thankful you still have the wagon because there was no way you’d be able to carry all of it back to the car. Caramel apples, cider donuts, three gallons of apple cider, honey sticks, pumpkin pie, and anything else Eddie thought was good enough to bring home for the season weight heavy in the brown paper bags in his arms. He comes back sheepishly, biting his lower lip when you look at the bags and then at him. 

“Hm,” you hum pointedly. 

“I just really like fall flavors, peach,” he shrugs, “And the old lady at the front was so sweet telling me about the deals I couldn’t not get everything.” “You’re such a sucker,” you laugh with a roll of your eyes, “You ready to head out?” He nods, ticking his forehead at Gwen whose cheek is smushed against your chest, eyelashes brushing the tops of her cheeks, “Looks like this pumpkin’s ready to go.” 

“She’s out,” you say softly, brushing her hair away from her face, “Lasted five minutes on my lap.” 

“Let me get a picture to send to Steve,” he says low enough that it doesn’t wake her, “The background is perfect.” “Ed you have a thousand pictures of her from today,” you complain. “Shh, shh, come on,” he smiles, taking out his phone – you know he’s only snapping Gwen by the way he lowers the camera to your lap. He puts the bags in the wagon while you slowly stand with her wrapped around your front. You wait at the entrance for him to pull the car around, leaving the wagon behind. She doesn’t wake up when you pop her back in the car seat, slowly rolling out of the parking lot with the rest of the afternoon in your wake. 

“I got her a little gourd painting kit, somewhere in those bags,” he says, “She can make some decorations.”  “Oh she’ll love that,” you nod, peeking at her sleeping face in the visor mirror again, “I’ll do it with her before dinner.”

He pulls in slowly at a stop sign, hand reaching out to snake into yours, pulling it to his lips to bless you with soft kisses on the back of your hand.

“Thanks for such a good day, baby,” he murmurs.

“You’re very welcome.” 

Later on, just before dinner, Eddie hears a tiny knock on his office door paired with two giggles from his favorite girls. 

“Yes?” he calls out. The door creeps open and he hears you whisper, ‘Ask ‘Are you busy, daddy?’ 

“You busy, daddy?” Gwen pipes up. He shuts his computer, moving away from the two additional screens. “No, honey, never too busy for you,” he smiles, creases by his eyes showing up through his glasses, “Do you have something to show me?” 

“Yeah,” she nods, pulling on your hand to pull you into the room. He uses the same candles he always has, deep spice, like his cologne. Warm like the way he holds you. Still in his hunter green Dickie’s overalls from this morning. 

You give Gwen her little pumpkin that she painted to present to her dad, beaming with excitement while he looks it over. 

“Such a good job, Gwenny,” he coos, “Are these –” 

“I did bats,” she grins, finger touching the sparkly black sort of bats adorning the outside. Covered in glitter and sequins, falling onto his office floor. 

“You did bats? For Halloween?” he asks. You shake your head no, smiling big when Gwen goes on to explain. 

“No cause, daddy, cause you have bats,” she hurriedly explains, “Issa daddy pum-kin.” She reaches to his left arm, pointing at the bat tattoos on the inside when he was a kid. She runs her finger over them, “See, bats like daddy.” 

“That’s so sweet, honey,” he coos, “Is it for me?” “Yeah,” she squeaks, “For here.” “For your office,” you say for her, trying not to giggle when his eyes shine with tears. She could give him a piece of trash and he’d cry over it, “‘Cause you have so many Halloween decorations in here.” He laughs, looking around at all the tour posters he has from bands he’s seen over the years – to a three year old they probably are a little scary. “And what did you say it was when you were done, Gwen?” you ask, “What did you say daddy would think the pumpkin was?” “Fucking med-oh,” she giggles. “Oh my god,” he sighs, thumb and forefinger immediately going to temples. “Fucking metal,” you repeat back him, knowingly, “Wonder where she got that.”

He tries not to laugh when he looks down at Gwen, “Don’t say that word, baby, that’s a bad word.” “Sowwy,” she whispers. “It’s okay, you didn’t know,” he grins, pulling her in to kiss her all over. She shrieks the way babies shriek when they’re excited and runs out of the office toward her bedroom at the end of the hall. You turn to go after her before feeling Eddie’s hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” he says quietly in your ear, you shiver, “Remember when you said I like a little extra sugar?” 

Your cheeks burn hot, turning to him, “I do.” He leans in slow, lips capturing yours in a way that they only do when you both get to be alone, “Don’t forget to keep givin’ me some.” “I won’t,” you murmur back, letting him kiss you deeply one more time before pressing a slow kiss to your favorite place under the hinge of your jaw, “You’re bold, Munson.” He shrugs, breaking away, “Needed somethin’ sweet.” 

As if he isn't sweet enough. Eddie spends the rest of the night looking up ways to preserve a painted gourd. 

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #dad!eddie #dad!eddie munson #older!eddie #older!eddie munson #modern!eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader fluff

[fayes-fics]

The Things We Do For Love

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict and his wife ask for Anthony's help to conceive a child.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, MMF threesome, fingering, dirty talk, vaginal sex, no incest. Married couple, infertility, conception, childbirth. Angst & emotion.

Word Count: 5.5k

Authors Note: This is a fic request fill for @broooookiecrisp from this ask (in essence, Benedict and his wife turn to Anthony for help to conceive a child). Thank you to @colettebronte and @makaylan for their invaluable advice and betaing. This is very different to my usual threesomes. This is much more angsty and emotional, but there is a happy ending. I hope you all enjoy <3

“Don’t worry, darling,” he soothes as you tear up, “it will happen for us one day.”

Despite his words, you stare at the bloody rag and feel nothing but failure.

More than anything, you want to give him children. Perhaps not a brood to rival his prestigious family, but a few children would be nice—two, maybe three. And you, more than anything, want to be a mother. To nurture life, be surrounded by children's laughter, and bring wonderful, new humans into the world.

But six months into your marriage, despite frequent, wonderful, vigorous, and enjoyable attempts, every month, your courses have arrived like clockwork, and every time, you feel you are letting him down.

“Please don’t cry,” his sweet, comforting voice almost pained; his lips mashed into your temple as he gently rocks you. “I love you regardless of if we can ever have a family. I need you to know that,” his voice sincere, maybe a little desperate.

“I know that, Benedict; I love you too; I just….” you say between muted sobs, “…I just want to give you a family like yours.”

“Darling, for all we know, it is I who is at fault, not you. In fact, we would never know unless…” he doesn’t finish the sentence, but his mien turns thoughtful.

“Unless what?” you prompt, lifting your head to look at him intently.

“Unless you attempt to get pregnant via another man,” he sighs, his face pinched.

“No!! No!!” bile rises in your throat at merely the idea of being with anyone but him. He is the only man you have ever known intimately, the only one you trust. “I can’t do this with anyone but you, Benedict,” you plead.

“And believe me, my darling, the thought of you with anyone else makes me nauseated, but this may be our only choice to find out. And perhaps actually have a baby we can raise as our own,” he points out.

He’s right, and you hate it. You would do anything to let him be the father he so obviously yearns to be. And if that means you have to lay with another man, for him, and only him, you will make yourself do it if that is what he wants. It will hurt your heart beyond belief, but you want him to be a father as much as you wish to be a mother. The problem is that the only man whose babies you want is the one asking you to take another man’s seed.

You draw your knees up on lean on them, sobbing bitterly. Benedict kisses your temple and hugs you as you cry it all out.

——

Benedict hovers nervously outside Anthony’s study at Bridgerton House, having no clue how to broach the topic he wants to discuss. But after weeks of consideration, it’s the only way forward he can see that doesn’t turn his stomach.

“Brother, will you be lurking all day or just for a half-hour?” comes the dry, bemused voice from behind the door.

Benedict stops pacing, closes his eyes briefly, and then, with a decisive nod, heads into the room.

“There is a sensitive matter I would like to discuss with you if you are amenable?” he begins, too nervous to sit in the seat Anthony gestures to. “I’ll stand if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever can it be? You seem quite the bag of nerves,” Anthony observes wryly, leaning back casually in his chair behind the desk.

“It’s regarding children,” Benedict begins slowly and carefully.

“Ah, right, family and intimate matters,” Anthony gets up and closes his office door. He stays standing as Benedict rocks on his feet, and Anthony looks at him expectantly.

There is nothing else but to dive in headfirst. Benedict steels himself for this tough ask and then begins.

“Despite our best efforts, my wife and I are… struggling to become pregnant,” he exhales.

“I am sorry to hear that, but I think a doctor may be a better confidante than myself,” Anthony argues, “should your wife need examining….”

“Well, that’s the thing; I’m not so certain she is at fault,” Benedict counters.

Anthony scoffs. “You are a Bridgerton. If there is one thing we are capable of, it’s progeny,” he laughs, pointing at the row of miniatures of their siblings.

“Well, maybe I am the exception that proves the rule,” Benedict replies quietly and seeing the pain written in the lines of his face, Anthony’s whole demeanour changes.

“I did not mean to make light of your challenges, brother,” Anthony states slowly, “merely that the balance of probability it is not your fault is quite high.”

“Well, there is only one way I can think of to confirm that suspicion,” Benedict answers, “and that is for another man to attempt to impregnate my wife.”

Anthony's shocked expression is a picture. “You wish for your wife to lay with another man?” the contempt in his voice unmaskable.

“Wish it?” Benedict scorns. “I wish anything but. It is the very definition of my nightmare, but… she deserves the world, and If I am at fault, I could never forgive myself if I do not explore all avenues to fulfil her dreams. To make her happy. If I cannot give her children, I will not begrudge her the happiness of motherhood she so desperately craves.”

Anthony is floored by the self-sacrifice his little brother will always make for those he loves.

“And this brings me to my proposal….” Benedict adds warily.

Anthony senses the nerves emanating in waves off him and clamps a reassuring hand onto his shoulder.

“What is it, brother?”

“Selfish as it may sound, I want any child I raise as my own to be a Bridgerton. And there is only one man I would allow to lay with my wife without my stomach turning…. and that dear brother,” he takes a deep breath and meets Anthony’s eye squarely, “is you.”

Anthony freezes and falls back into a nearby chair. Literally stunned.

“I.. “ he begins but can not find more words.

“I'm aware this is a huge ask,” Benedict rushes out, “but I can't think of another palatable solution to my wife's happiness, and, more than anything, I want to give her that. Happiness.”

Anthony can see the quiver in his brother's lip, and his heart breaks for him at this impossible impasse.

“Brother, I’m not sure I can do this,” Anthony wavers honestly, standing up again and beginning to pace.

“Please,” Benedict implores, “please at least consider it. I will sign any private sealed paperwork you wish, ensuring that should she become pregnant, the child has no rights to your title or estates….”

“It’s not that,” Anthony cuts in, frowning that would even be a consideration, “it’s just… Benedict, it’s your brother bedding your wife. This choice seems fraught with potential anguish.”

“It seems unlikely to me at least that two men in the same family would be similarly afflicted, coming as we do from a man capable of siring eight children. If you do not impregnate her, then maybe we will know it is not me at fault,” Benedict argues, appealing to Anthony's logical side that he knows will often win in an emotional moment.

Anthony stops pacing and instead shuffles a pile of perfectly neat paper, nerves manifesting in the need to keep himself busy in the motions of a pointless task. “Allow me to think on it.”

Benedict gives a short sharp nod and, with nothing else he can think to say, takes his leave.

——

His fingers trail gently over your stomach as you lay in post-coital bliss.

“Darling, I have an idea for our baby dilemma,” he offers softly, tracing his lips over your collarbone.

“Mmm, I'm all ears, husband,” you reply drowsily, your ankles twining with his, your fingers running into his thick, lush hair.

Tonight he took you somewhere truly primal, and it feels different. Like it's possible you are actually pregnant this time. That something so fundamental happened in your moment of pure blissful release that, indeed, life was created.

“There is one way to ensure we have a Bridgerton child,” he begins quietly, his warm breath dusting over your dewy skin. “And that is for you to lay with my brother, Anthony.”

The world stops. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears and a weird static buzz in every bone of your face. Like you have been struck by lightning.

No, No, NO, Benedict, your mind wails. Literally anyone but him, dear god.

Unbeknownst to your husband, there is only one man you had ever considered before you met him. And that is his older brother—Viscount Anthony Bridgerton. You harboured a flame for him upon your first visit to Aubrey Hall with your family when you were fifteen, and that really only abated a few years later when you met his wonderful, soulful younger brother who utterly stole your heart.

“Benedict…” you sigh, going to move away, but he holds you in place, staring deep into your eyes, running his hands over your jaw, your cheeks.

“Think about it, my love,” he cuts in. “He is someone I trust with my life. He will not attempt to blackmail us or steal you away from me,” he petitions. “And we look so alike, my brother and me; no one would bat an eyelid about the child’s appearance, should you conceive one. It is the perfect solution,” he looks at you so beseechingly that you almost feel like you are betraying him just by wanting to object. And so you can’t, you don't. You will never deny him the right to fatherhood he so obviously deserves. If that means playing with the fire of your attraction to his brother, you will do it.

You grab his hand and lace your fingers with his. “My love, if this is what you want. I consent,” you murmur as your insides riot at the idea of lying with his brother. “But I have conditions.” you swallow thickly.

“What are they? Anything, my love,” he says pleadingly. “I will do anything for you; you know that,” he asserts as he kisses a fervent line over your cheek to your lips.

“I cannot do this without you,” you answer meekly. “I need you there the whole time. Not just in the room, I need you with me, skin on skin; I need you to hold me when it is happening, to talk to me.”

He inhales sharply. “You wish to lay with both of us? At the same time?”

“Yes, Benedict, my love. I cannot give my body to another man unless you are right there with me. Please, please.”

“I… I….” he stumbles, “I will have to check with him, but if that is what you need, what you desire, I will, of course, be there, my love.”

“Will you fuck me too?” your use of the base, crude term somehow feels necessary in this context.

You see the vein in his neck jump, and his voice turns gravelly. “You want that?”

“Yes, husband. Once he has been with me, I want you to be with me too.” you push up and kiss him deeply, trying to transmit just how much you love him, that for you, how much all of this is for him, for his happiness.

“Alright, my love,” he appeases with delicate kisses, “of course, of course….”

——

When Benedict rises the following day, his valet hands him a hand-delivered note. It is from Bridgerton House, and inside the wax-sealed envelope, on Anthony's signature note paper, there, in neat-looking penmanship, is just one word.

Yes.

Benedict drops the card onto his desk and rubs his temples, uncertain if he should feel elated or empty.

——

The fateful night arrives sooner than you would like, but equally, the weight of anticipation felt like almost too much to bear in the lead-up. You fidget nervously with your silk robe, which all at once feels too heavy and not thick enough, your skin prickling with the uncertainty of what is to pass.

You stay in the bedroom, brushing your hair at your vanity with repetitive calming motions as Benedict greets Anthony and invites him into your home. In advance, you and Benedict had agreed a few strong brandies would likely assist both men before embarking on this journey; you declined to imbibe in the hope it would aid with conception. So you sit nervously awaiting as they partake downstairs in your drawing room, no doubt.

For some reason, you prefer not to see Anthony before the ‘act’ begins; it feels too much like danger knowing what will happen, the ghost of your past attraction like a potential unwanted spectre taunting you. It feels safer to keep your distance until, well, until you cannot.

You get onto the bed and attempt to read, but your butterflies mean you are staring at the same page for minutes at a time, words just a jumble of letters that bleed into each other, your mind too preoccupied. Just as you start to fret about whether you can do this, you hear voices and a pair of heavy boots ascending the stairs.

Then there in the doorway are your husband and his brother, looking at you with the same expression you give them. Nervous apprehension, but theirs mellowed by alcohol.

“Darling,” Benedict drawls as they walk in, and he closes the door, “how are you?”

“I am fine,” you assure with a quick, tight smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. The butterflies are truly rioting now.

Your gaze falls to Anthony, who flashes you a brusque smile before he peels off his jacket and rapidly moves onto his boots. It seems almost business-like, and there is a hot flare in your stomach. Benedict is already more casual, barefoot, just his white shirt and trousers; it's like he senses your spike of anxiety and is on the bed with you in the blink of an eye.

“It's okay, my darling,” he mollifies, pushing you gently down into the pillows, his breath sweetened by brandy and smoky from cigars, “I’m here, my love, I’m here.”

His kiss is gentle and pitched to reassure, his lips soft on yours, intuiting the need to settle your fears. It works, and as you always do, you find yourself melting into your husband's loving embrace and attention. His hands run delicate patterns over your thin robe.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs, a soft smile on his lips as he moves to kiss down your throat, his lips warm and plush as his words vibrate over your skin. He goes to untie your robe, but you halt his hand, covering it with your own.

“Please, Benedict, I need you naked before I am,” you plead quietly.

He lifts his head and meets your imploring gaze, nodding slightly, understanding your reasons without you needing to vocalise them. It's part of why you love him so much, this shorthand you have developed, this unspoken bond. You can't help the little flutter in your chest as he whips off his shirt and settles over you, so much body warmth seeping through your robe from his skin. As he kisses the cord of your neck, you sigh and allow your hands to wander, loving the feel of his toned flesh under your fingertips.

With him over and surrounding you, he is your whole field of vision, perhaps by design to centre your focus on him. In the background, you can hear the sounds of Anthony disrobing, but Benedict utters soft, reassuring words against your skin to drown out the sound. His warm lips feathering down over your collarbone, skirting the edge of your robe. As ever, his tender treatment makes you stir, and you feel your body become pliant under him, allowing him to ease between your legs, your robe falling open as his wool trousers tickle the inside of your knees.

“My darling, you smell wonderful. Did you bathe in your favourite magnolia petal soap?” his voice buzzes over your breastbone as he breathes deeply and smiles indulgently as you hum in the affirmative. “Your skin is so soft; I am such a lucky man.” you know he is being extra vocal and reassuring with his words and actions; it makes your heart melt a fraction. He wants you comfortable and aroused. He wants this to be pleasant for you. You would never have the heart to tell him his efforts are not perhaps as needed as he believes.

You cannot look at Anthony to this day without a tiny stab of desire, perhaps remnants of a theoretical scenario where he could have been your intended, at least in your mind. Or it could be that he is an objectively handsome man. Either way, the thought of laying with him is not abhorrent on a physical level; in fact, the genuine possibility of the opposite stokes the blaze of nerves in your belly—that you could enjoy it a little too much.

You reach down and begin unbuttoning Benedict's trousers, wanting, needing more, as he continues languid kisses on your exposed skin. This time you do not object as his fingers insinuate between your bodies and tug at the ties holding your robe closed.

You inhale sharply as his naked body surges over yours as he kicks away his trousers. So much heat and warmth as your thighs cradle him. You can feel his rigid cock searing the apex of your thighs, and more than anything, you want him to push into your body.

As his lips close on your left nipple, you moan and cant up towards him; you sense something else happening in the room. You realise, without looking; you have an audience. Anthony’s gaze feels heavy on your skin; you know he is watching as his brother's tongue peaks out and lathes over your nipple, watches as he sucks the nub into his mouth, and you cry out. Somehow the audience makes this more hedonistic. You want to feel ashamed at the throbbing between your legs, yet…. you don't; you just feel a molten desire. The idea of being the sole focus of two of the most handsome men of the ton does not escape your mind.

Somehow you know without looking that Anthony has taken his cock in hand and is ogling your body, just as Benedict's hand slides between your legs and glides over your folds.

“Are you ready for us, my love?” he asks softly. Part of you wants to lie, to ask him to dive his face between your legs and suck your clit until you are writhing and panting, but you know tonight is not about pleasure; it's a means to an end. And besides, he would know it's unnecessary as soon as his fingers slide between your lips, which they now do, and he hisses at the pooled, slick viscous heat he finds within. “Oh, darling, you are more than ready, aren't you? You are positively weeping from your gorgeous little cunt.”

You moan again at his words, almost surprised he is willing to talk like this in front of his brother, but you suspect it’s because he knows how much it arouses you. And indeed, you hear a noise from Anthony as you writhe on Benedict's fingers, wishing more than anything for him to sink them into your body and massage that spot you love so very much that only his fingers can reach.

“Please, fuck me,” you exhale, and it's a dangerous elixir thrumming in your bloodstream when there is a duet of responding groans to your breathy plea.

“I will, darling, I will,” he promises with an aching urgency, propelling one of his fingers into you and you crying out his name.

His fingertip massages that spot as his mouth is on your other breast, and you don't hide your enjoyment of what is happening. In truth, perhaps you are more performative, your whispered pleas just a little louder for Anthony’s benefit, your body flexing a little more pronounced; you almost want him to desire your body as much as your husband does. Sometimes playing with fire is such a beguilingly hypnotic idea.

“Make her climax, brother; I have heard it can help with conception,” Anthony’s smooth voice rings out, and you gasp, whipping your head to look at him for the first time since clothing was shed.

There’s a stab of what almost feels like betrayal as your eyes fall on Viscount Anthony Bridgerton—naked and imposing, standing as he does next to the bed. Unlike his brother, his chest is covered in a thatch of dark hair; his build is thicker and more muscular than your slightly taller, lither husband. Perhaps predictably, given their shared genetics, he is physically appealing too. You can tell by the motion of his arm he is stroking himself, but you daren't allow your eyes to wander lower than his taunt, defined abdomen, almost scared to see what lies between his legs. And yet curiosity wins out as he mounts the bed on all-fours, you glance down the plane of his torso and glimpse his cock nestling in a patch of dark hair, just like Benedict's, but it looks different. You can't deny that. A shade thicker, perhaps, just like their bodies. That you are comparing your husband's cock to his brothers fills you with a self-disdain you don't want to contemplate, so you quickly cut your eyes away. It matters not the pleasure he can provide during the act; what matters is the outcome: his seed, the hope of progeny.

“Here, let me help,” Anthony offers casually. And your breathing accelerates rapidly as suddenly he is next to you and his lips close around your other nipple, still wet with your husband's saliva.

A long, low curse slips from your mouth unsolicited as you experience the blinding pleasure of both nipples being sucked simultaneously.

Something burns white hot, not just desire but also shame. Shame that you want this so much. That your whole axis is thrown off by the equally talented tongue of Anthony Bridgerton swirling and sucking your nipple. But then he himself did just say female pleasure is paramount to conception. Who are you to deny yourself this pleasure if it is a means to the ultimate end? Your selfish, licentious side greedily courting all the attention they are willing to offer.

Benedict's finger curls more insistently inside you as a thumb lands on your clit, rubbing in an unfamiliar but alluring motion. It is not your husband’s. It does not have the same softness; there's a rasping quality to Anthony’s more pen-calloused skin that snags perfectly on your sensitive bud. Having the mouths and fingers of two Bridgerton brothers teasing you is overwhelming, but part of you feels overridden with guilt that you are deriving such pleasure from them both.

“It's alright, my love,” Benedict assures, sensing your emotional quandary, and it’s the license you need. Allow yourself to indulge in the sensation enough to be carried away by the sheer wonder of it all.

Within moments, a potent tide rips through your being as you writhe, surrounded by their bodies. Benedict surges up and captures your lips in a passionate, consuming kiss as you clench so hard on his finger and holler his name so loudly into his mouth. You don't dare speak his brother's name, but something makes your hand grasp Anthony's hair as he gently laps your breast.

Benedict eases himself from between your legs and arranges his body against your left flank as you calm. On instinct, still fuzzy from your orgasm, you turn your head towards him, seeking his lips for more kisses, sighing as he obliges, your nostrils filled with the scent of your own arousal on his damp fingers that cradle your jaw as his lips open gently with yours. His cock is branding your hip as he pulls your left leg towards him, opening you up, and your heartbeat spikes as you feel Anthony climb over your right leg and shuffle between your thighs.

“Benedict,” you gasp over his lips. He knows. He knows you are at your most vulnerable, and he clutches your face tight, keeps your gaze locked on his, his mouth hovering over yours.

“Shhh, my love,” he soothes, “you are doing so wonderful; you are my whole world; I love you so much,” his searing words pour into your soul as you feel Anthony’s body over yours.

Benedict holds your face, his grip almost vice-like, not letting you look away, to his brother, as arms band around your hips, and Anthony heaves you onto his thighs, your pelvis now higher than your head.

“Don't stop talking,” you plead into your husband's mouth as you feel the tip of Anthony’s cock at your entrance.

“I love you; I can't wait to raise a family with you, my darling,” he entreats. The mix of desire and hurt on his face breaks your heart as you cry out with the force of Anthony’s cock ploughing into you. It feels so different in a way you can't explain and want to weep, but you can't do that to your husband, hurt him like that. So you keep staring into his hazy eyes, breathing his exhaled air and familiar scent as Anthony starts to move inside you.

It feels so wondrous, your walls clinging to his thick veiny cock as you bite your lip to trap the sounds you want to make. There is no denying how utterly incredible Anthony feels inside you. He almost immediately hits a harsh snapping rhythm, making slight panting noises with the exertion. Benedict shuts his eyes and swallows heavily, and you know it's to school his emotions, yet you can't help but steal a glance up at his brother while he does so. Anthony looks so handsome and majestic, an errant curl of hair bouncing on his forehead as he throws his whole body into the thrusts. His skin glows dewy in the candlelight. His eyes meet yours, and a flame there startles so much that you swivel your eyes back to your husband’s as they reopen. Guilt makes you utter his name, each syllable rising and falling with the motion of your body as Anthony fucks you so hard.

“It's alright if you enjoy this, my darling,” Benedict affirms sotto voce, and it's like whiplash to your heart how giving this man is, how much he is sacrificing so you can have a family together. You know it must be eating him alive on some level to see the pleasure his brother is giving you.

“I only want to come if it's with you,” you whisper harshly.

“But you need to come, my darling; it will improve the chance of a baby,” he assuages.

You feel Anthony’s fingers at your clit, and you seize Benedict’s face. “Then talk to me, my love. Talk like it’s just us, say all those debauched things that make me burn so hot for you, just you,” you implore desperately.

Benedict growls and surges his rigid cock against your hip, leaking onto your dewy skin as his warm lips capture your cheekbone.

“I want you, my wife,” he intones through clenched teeth. “Every day, I want to strip you down and take you so hard.”

“Yesssssss,” you hiss, writhing on Anthony's cock, who groans and grips your hip bone hard. “More, please, more.”

Anthony’s fingers are a frenzy on your clit now as you keen loudly, urging him on; you unwittingly squeeze his muscular forearm.

“I know what makes you come so hard; only me, only I can do that. You are my wife, mine. Say it,” Benedict orders, his tone as desperate as yours, spying the way you have latched onto his brother, needing reassurance.

“I'm yours, Benedict, always, forever,” you cry, and it turns into a scream as Anthony starts to spear you so hard you want to see stars.

“I love you, my darling wife. You are going to be such a wonderful mother; I know how much you want that. To be a mother. To have a baby,” he murmurs, placing his forehead onto yours, “that is why we are doing this, my darling.”

"But Benedict, I only want your baby… Our baby…" you lament, raw with emotion, as you battle the sensations threatening to overwhelm you. Anthony's cock makes your eyes roll back in your head, and Benedict's words take you over a soft edge, your blood boiling in your veins for your husband and his brother. Your scream muffled into his jaw as your cunt flutters hard around Anthony.

“Fuckkkking hell, I'm going to come,” Anthony warns, and for the first time, you look away from Benedict, uncaring that he sees.

“Give it to me,” you growl at Anthony, “give me your seed Bridgerton; I love my husband more than life itself; give us our baby right now!”

Both men seem equally shocked and aroused by your voracious demand.

“Darling…” Benedict pants raggedly on your cheekbone, his leaking cock pressing rhythmically against you again as you wrap your arm possessively around his head, fingers tugging no doubt painfully on his hair as you stare Anthony down, urging him to come.

There is a long guttural noise as Anthony stills. You feel the warmth of his release bloom inside you as he slumps over your body. His head on your damp diaphragm, puffing hard breaths over your ticklish skin as he keeps jerking and pumping little aftershocks into you.

The act over; as much as Anthony is an attractive man, all you want, crave, need, and desire is your husband with every fibre of your being. Like a siren calling across an ocean, he is the only place you want to be wrecked.

“Benedict, now, please, please, I need you,” you turn to him and cry.

You rasp lightly as Anthony pulls out and slumps back breathlessly against the footboard of your bed as you almost drag your husband on top of you. You chant a litany of pleas as he fumbles to line up with your fluttering body. And your eyes well with emotion as he finally surges into you. The stretch of his cock is different but so familiar, mind-bending and heart-stopping.

Your mouths mash together in a frenzy, and you cling to Benedict, pleading with him for more and harder, uncaring of the audience you have. You think he won't last long, but you don't care—you crave his release more than your own. You just want to revel in the carnality of your husband’s body and of what you have just permitted to happen for each other, for love. You steal a glance at Anthony over Benedict’s shoulder, and the soft, understanding look he gives you fills you with unspoken gratitude that he agreed to do this, to help you in this amazing way.

Benedict is not gentle, and you are grateful for it, conveying all of his passion for you with firm hands grasping your flesh, destined to leave imprints, teeth grazing your neck, thrusting into you with no mercy. You were mistaken, though - he does last. Keeps pounding into your body over and over and over as you make needy noises with each movement, climbing higher again.

“Come for me, husband, please; I need to feel it,” you beg, clasping his bum encouragingly, kissing every inch of skin you can reach, dragging your nipples over his chest, greedily pursuing your satisfaction as well as his.

“Tell me you love me,” he demands, sweat dripping from his forehead onto yours, his eyes burning into yours.

“I love you; you know I love you,” your response is a reflex. And that is what causes the dam to break for him, his whole body jerking violently, hissing and groaning loud against your ear as he spills inside you, fingers flexing, nails leaving moon-shaped marks on your shoulders where his arms curl under around them. The visceral feel of him coming apart, his body smashing against your clit takes you over too. Eyes fluttering closed as your body clenches in waves around his spasming cock.

And as you lay there sharing ragged breaths, Anthony’s warm hand encircles your ankle, and your eyes meet again in a moment of connection that feels warm and profound; you hope beyond hope a baby was conceived tonight.

——

Nine months later.

The birth of your baby is the most harrowing but rewarding day of your life. As you hear the infant’s first cry, your whole world crumbles and is rebuilt around her. Your precious, precious gift.

Benedict’s embrace is so tight as you cradle new life in your arms, scarcely believing the truth. Then a tiny set of eyes blink open, and your heart soars to heights you never dreamed possible.

“Benedict,” you breathe, joyful tears flowing unabashed, “look… she has… she has your eyes,” your whisper tremulant.

There, unmistakable as anything, is his baby. Not Anthony’s, not just a Bridgerton baby. His. Benedict’s.

“I don't think she can be anyone’s but yours, my love,” you assure ardently.

His fervent kiss on your dewy brow is only made wetter by the gentle tears that roll down his cheek and onto your skin.

“I love you,” he whispers reverently, his large hand wrapping delicately around your swaddled baby. “I love our daughter. We are finally a family.”

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[doobea]

TIMES OF NEED ─ BAROU SHOEI + NAGI SEISHIRO

synopsis: in which, barou's out for the day, you're bedridden, and nagi is staring really hard at the at home remedies article on his phone.

contents: gn!reader, poly relationship, nagi really tries (but fails), barou ends up taking care of everyone but what's new, sfw, very fluffy, a sick fic from a blurb, nagi centric, kinda proof'd word count: 2.6K a/n: here, have something cute and short!! because i've been slacking on some blue lock content. and yeah like wouldnt it be funny if i manage to convince everyone to start shipping nagibarou ha...haha...

Nagi’s not sure when he started to become a constant around you and Barou. 

Reo thinks it started happening on the day he stopped seeing Nagi’s in-game username online. Barou believes it’s when Nagi started “randomly” syncing his gym sessions with him. You have a hunch that it was your shared cooking class in undergrad that brought him closer. Whatever the case it might’ve been, it doesn’t change the hard fact that Nagi Seishiro has been staying over at you and Barou’s apartment every weekend for the past six months.

Today’s supposed to be a good weekend with both of you. It has always been that way. 

Nagi lets himself get lost whenever he’s around you two; he becomes more expressive, jokes and snarky comments against Barou are typically common, Nagi learns a thing or two about daily household chores, and afternoon siestas are an absolute must between the three of you.

The order, and yes there’s an order, that goes with you on the right, Nagi in the middle, and Barou to his left. Why is that? Because Nagi loves being smushed from all sides, it helps him fall asleep faster.

Today, however, he doesn’t get his usual afternoon naps. At least, in the way he wants it to be.

On this faithful Saturday afternoon, Nagi wakes up to your sudden coughing fits and a note on the fridge from Barou stating he’ll be visiting his family for the day. And this wouldn’t really be a problem for Nagi if it weren’t for the fact that, one: he has no clue what to make to sooth your cold, because he’s pretty sure you’re running a nasty fever, and two: if he can barely take care of Choki, what makes him think that he can take care of another person?

Nagi is debating with himself internally when he’s crouched by your bedside, grasping your sweaty palm tightly into his, while checking your temperature with his forehead because he’s seen Barou doing it dozens of times before. He’s fighting the urge to call him and Nagi’s not sure if he wants to blame the nagging voice in his head telling him — hey, if Barou comes back and sees that you’re better and healthy looking, then Nagi will earn himself brownie points in this… situationship? Yeah, whatever label you guys have, that’s a discussion for another time, though. 

So, Nagi says fuck it, and decides at the end to not text Barou. 

“Sei,” you call out, weakly, followed by a string of rapid coughs.

He squeezes your hand in return, kissing the crown of your head. “Want me to make you something?”

“Do we still have the leftover soup from yesterday?”

“Um,” and this is where Nagi fucks up without even trying because, of course, he just so happened to finish the rest earlier this morning while you were showering. His eyes widen a little and you absolutely notice. 

It’s totally not his fault that Barou’s cooking is so damn good, though. Anyone would be lucky enough to eat his dishes everyday.

Thankfully, you laugh it off. “Okay, forget I even asked.”

The thought of contacting Barou increases slightly.

“ ‘m sorry…” and Nagi feels embarrassed, a bit frustrated at himself. Chewing at his lips, Nagi pulls out his phone and begins to look up ‘at-home remedies for colds’ into the search bar, making sure to tilt the screen towards you because he’s not exactly sure which article to choose from. “I can try to make whatever you think might help.”

You end up settling with the third listed website since the first two contained one too many steps for both of your likings. After scrolling past the author’s in-depth childhood backstory on why this dish saved their life, Nagi reviews the ingredients and directions. It’s a chicken noodle soup recipe and the instructions look simple enough that he’s sure even a toddler couldn’t mess it up. 

He’s totally got this under control.

“Give me thirty minutes?”

And, in exactly thirty minutes, he hears the bedroom door creek open, the sounds of your bare feet tapping relentlessly against the wooden flooring as you make your way closer.

You smile, nose congested as you waddle into the kitchen and hop onto the bar stool, watching Nagi with attentive, but tired eyes. “You alright over there?”

Nagi makes a pained little sound and scrunches his face when he gives the final batch a taste test. It’s then, he realizes, that he added way too much white pepper into the broth. The kitchen, however, does smell nice, so it kinda gives him the illusion that he’s doing something right. But, as the light brown broth, speckled in all things black and white, stares blankly back at him, Nagi wonders if feeding you this would cause you more harm than good.

“You want ginger ale instead?” Nagi offers, though he’s already sliding you a cold can from the fridge. He’s heard from some twitch streamers that ginger ale is actually kinda helpful against common colds. 

“Are you gatekeeping that chicken soup, Sei?” A pause and then he hears you groan. “You didn’t read the recipe beforehand?”

“Skimmed it,” Nagi confesses with a sigh. “It didn’t look that hard.”

In the hindsight of things, does Nagi look like the type of person who can cook? His diet, on days where he doesn’t stay over at your place, consists of frozen pizza, burritos, and a whole lot of cereal. Nagi knows how to use the air fryer, which is probably the most expensive kitchen appliance he has. He also knows how to make decent cup noodles and usually tops it off with a handful of frozen pre-cut scallions from his freezer. Other than that? Nagi’s pretty much hopeless.

Maybe asking Barou for some private cooking lessons later might not be such a horrible idea.

Besides him, your stomach keeps growling. Every time it happens, you sniffle as loudly as you can to muffle the sound of it, but Nagi can still clearly hear it and he feels kinda awful.

“I can order us food,” which he should’ve done in the first place.

You frown, shaking your head. “What? You don’t have to do that. I’ll still eat whatever you made, can’t be that bad.”

“It’s not good—”

“I’d rather eat now than wait forty minutes for delivery,” you counter with another stomach growl, and that makes Nagi slumps his shoulders and he prepares you a small bowl of whatever concoction he created. The poor chickens might’ve died for nothing.

And, approximately five seconds later, from the time you took a spoonful to the time that you swallowed his homemade meal, you start sputtering out of control, almost spitting out the broth.

Okay, this isn’t his fault since he did technically warned you prior. 

“It’s not that bad,” you’re still smiling through the sniffles, voice strained and even scratchier sounding, and it’s a bit unsettling. “But, maybe, we can just wait ‘till Shoei gets back for dinner?”

Nagi stifles back a groan and shrinks into his oversized hoodie. He’d known you would say something similar in that regard. And, five minutes later, after you two discovered that Nagi had accidentally mistaken salt for sugar, you both agreed to give Barou a call.

It doesn’t quite go so well.

“Hey, Shoei,” your drawl is casual, even though your voice is on the verge of giving out and you’re definitely not kicking Nagi’s foot underneath the kitchen table. “Just wondering, what time are you coming back?” A pause. “I sound like what? It’s just my sleepy voice, as usual.” Another pause and you start to laugh a bit nervously. “Okay, so I might've caught a cold from staying up late but these exams aren’t gonna pass themselves.” Another pause and Nagi thinks he can hear Barou’s voice rising on the line. “Sei’s helping me! He, uh, made something edible…” and you shoot him a wryly smile before bringing your phone to his ear.

“Is the apartment burnt down?”

Nagi huffs and rolls his eyes, quickly taking notice of the sounds of car keys and ignition turning on. “Hello to you, too.”

After a while, the conversation strays from your well being to whatever Nagi was cooking up earlier.

“You’re going to end up burning the place down if you keep the heat that fucking high.”

“Then they shouldn’t make settings that high to begin with.”

“How did you mess salt and sugar up?”

“Your fault for not labeling everything, King.”

After some more grumbling, and some coaxing from your end, Barou decides to end the call before experiencing both road rage and Nagi rage at the same time. Nagi is flaring his nose and puffing out his cheeks as he hands back your phone and you only offer him a weak hug but, because you are sick, Nagi considers it to be pretty strong. 

“You guys always go at each other’s throats,” you sigh, burying your face into his chest.

Nagi raises his hands and starts patting your head in a slow, gentle rhythm. “ ‘s not my fault, he starts it most of the time.”

And really, if it weren’t for the fact that Barou makes really good food, is a walking furnace, strong, reliable, and good looking — then maybe Nagi wouldn’t be as pissed. But, because Barou is all of the above and more, Nagi is sulking. 

“You know he also cares about you, too, right?” You point out happily enough, peering up through your lashes.

He shrugs in response, and tries to sound nonchalant, but he feels his heart fluttering and doing the damn thing where it’s trying to explode out of his chest at the mere thought of Barou liking him back and, of course, you sharing the same sentiment. 

Despite rooming with the other male during their undergrad years, Nagi wasn’t able to get super close to him until after Barou started dating you. And, by super close, Nagi means proximity and maybe some layers of hidden feelings. You’ve mentioned in passing that getting emotionally close to Barou takes a lot of effort, though it’s less of a struggle than, say, befriending another emotionally constipated associate of his. Hint: you were definitely not jabbing at Sae or Rin, or were you?

Nagi sighs. He doesn’t want to think about that, at least not now. He’s still not sure if he’ll ever really be able to live up to Barou’s standards, and at this moment, he doesn’t particularly want to, not while you're fiddling around with the chicken in the bowl.

“Guess so,” he agrees, a bit dully.

Needless to say, Nagi is very relieved when he finally spots Barou’s car pulling into the driveway. You immediately greet him at the door, wrapped tightly in a blanket, and place a chaste kiss to his cheeks despite him scolding you for spreading germs everywhere. Still, seeing you all teary eyed gets his knees weak every time and, ultimately, he couldn’t stay mad at you forever. 

“You’re fucking burning up.” Barou gruffs, placing his forehead against yours.

“Then let’s keep each other warm tonight!”

“We’re all gonna get sick if we do that, idiot.” But, nevertheless, he returns the kiss and settles you to the living room sofa while he strides to the kitchen, giving Nagi a quick up-down glance.

“Smells like white pepper,” Barou stares at Nagi’s pathetic creation.

“Recipe called for it,” Nagi mumbles back, and he doesn’t quite meet Barou’s eyes with that. 

Barou then continues on a mini tangent, but Nagi’s only half listening, because his attention is more fixated on what’s in Barou’s hands, a couple of hefty grocery bags. Apparently, on his way back, Barou stopped by the grocery store to stock up on cold medicine and managed to fight off three grandmas in the produce section. They don’t call him King Barou for nothing.

Then, Nagi realizes, quite abruptly, that he’s leaning into Barou, that they’re pressed quite close when he’s demonstrating how to easily peel off the skin of a potato. Nagi shuffles a little in place, adjusting his weight so it’s not quite so obvious and invading Barou’s personal space.

“You’re good with curry, tonight?”

“Mhm,” Nagi hums back, quietly.

It only takes Barou under an hour to whip up the meal. You and Nagi both ended up watching the spectacle from the kitchen table, acting like a mini live audience when Barou starts narrating everything he’s doing. And, after Barou sets everyone’s plates down, Nagi wants to say something, an apology maybe, but instead, he picks up a spoonful of the curry and shoves it into his mouth. It’s no surprise that it’s delicious, way better than what he can ever possibly make. He knows this because you’re sighing in content, making oddly suggestive noises as you swallow each and every bite.

Nagi chews his lip, and Barou watches out of the corner of his eyes. “The food is good,” he decides to settle with that.

Nagi stays silent for the rest of dinner and takes over cleaning the dishes while you and Barou get ready for bed, because that’s the least he can do after today. Though, suddenly, the apartment is the absolute last place he wants to be. He wants to be back at his own place, curled under the blankets, with his door shut, and ignore the outside world while he plays video games.

Frankly, Nagi feels out of place right now.

“Hey,” Barou calls out from behind. He’s got his hair down, slightly damp from the shower, a towel loosely placed on his neck, and he’s giving Nagi a hard stare, but it’s not malicious. At least Nagi knows he can sleep peacefully tonight.

“Yeah?” and Nagi’s voice drops to little more than a whisper.

“Thanks for, uh, trying to look out for them.” Barou’s looking far off, focusing more on the bare wall instead of Nagi’s tight expression.  

“It’s nothing, really…” Nagi replies, quietly, but he has a feeling that there's a lot of weight behind those words.

Nagi flushes when Barou steps closer, his fingers carefully brushing over the front of his sweatshirt before plucking off a loose strand. It feels like a very domestic thing to do. Something that a couple would do. And he’s somehow, surprisingly, okay with it. Nagi’s never been good at putting that much effort into his appearance but, after the recent stays over, he feels like he can trust Barou with it. 

“Tomorrow, wake up early and I’ll show you a thing or two in the kitchen.” And, without Barou’s usual rough tone, it sounds genuine to Nagi’s ears. Before Nagi can make a decision, before he can potentially mess things up again, Barou continues. “It’ll cover simple stuff to, um, avoid things like today from happening.”

He’s grateful that Barou can somewhat read his mind. “I won't complain.” 

They don’t look at each other, but on Nagi’s shoulder lies a firm hand, and he can’t help but to tip his chin up. Barou’s grip is solid, anchoring, pulling him out of the depths of his mind and back to the present, and he’s here. There’s a moment of silent back and forth, where neither of them dared to move and kept stealing glances at another, and Barou looks, again, a little emotionally constipated. Nagi decides it’s kinda a bad look on him.

“Are you guys heading to bed?” Your voice snaps both of them out of the weird trance and Barou’s the first one to pull back. 

“Yeah, we’re coming,” Barou replies back, and gives Nagi’s sleeves a light tug towards the direction of the bedroom. 

And Nagi hopes that it’s not noticeable, the way that he’s trying to calm every muscle on his face, suppressing the warmth on his cheeks ever so slightly when both of them make their way into the room and slip underneath the sheets with you squished in between them. It’s warm, comforting, and somehow you look incredibly pleased with yourself.

© 2023 DOOBEA. do not copy any of my writing and translate/repost.

#doobea writing #blue lock #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #nagi seishrio x reader #nagi seishiro #barou shoei x reader #ngbr #barou shoei

[glorious-spoon]

your way or nothing at all [9-1-1 | Eddie Diaz | 1/1]

1500 words character study | mild angst | weddings | background buck/tommy, eddie/marisol | pre-relationship buddie | not quite a feelings realization for eddie but he's getting there

-

In the quieting dark, Eddie lingers by the tables, the empty chairs pushed together in a cluster for a conversation long since abandoned. It's late enough that people are starting to filter out into the night, and pretty much everybody left is crowded at the open bar or swaying on the dance floor. At the high table, Maddie has Buck's suit jacket draped over her shoulders and her cheek tipped against Chim's shoulder, and he's looking down at her with a dopily besotted expression that Eddie can clock even from here.

It makes him feel like—something, some kind of nostalgia for the wedding he never got to have with Shannon. That whole day felt like being hustled through a play that he never learned his lines to. Shannon was three months pregnant and deep in the throes of vicious morning sickness that was not improved by the catering or the stress of the day, so he spent their wedding night holding back her hair in the honeymoon suite his parents paid for and trying desperately to feel like he had a single fucking clue what he was doing. Trying to feel like a man and a husband and a father-to-be and mostly feeling like a complete fraud.

They deserved better. Both of them. Now, in this moment, after this day, it soothes more than it stings to watch Maddie and Chim hold onto each other so easily.

The song changes, and he watches a swirl of motion on the bar side of the dance floor, the particular energy that's easily identifiable as Buck even before he emerges from the crowd. Normally, maybe Eddie would gravitate in, but Buck's got a hand linked together with Tommy's, and they're laughing, and so he stays where he is. Just watches.

It's sweet, a little fumbling as Buck very obviously tries to figure out the logistics of slow-dancing with another guy. Tommy says something in a low voice and settles a palm on his hip, and Buck ducks his head, laughing, and leans into him.

It's sweet. It is. Eddie's throat fucking aches.

He doesn't know why, not really. Maybe it's the smile on Buck's face, wide and giddy and almost embarrassingly bright. He never smiled at Natalia like that, or Taylor. Maybe Ali, but the truth is that back then Eddie wasn't looking for it. Back then, he was so caught up in everything with Shannon, and he and Buck were barely more than friendly coworkers, as strange as that idea seems now.

He probably smiled at Abby like that. Eddie wasn't around for that relationship, only the aftermath, but he can imagine it. You don't hurt that badly when someone leaves you unless you really fucking loved them.

"You would not believe the line for the bathroom," Marisol says from behind him, and Eddie jolts like he just grabbed a high-voltage wire. He tries to spin it into something graceful as he turns to face her, but he's pretty sure it doesn't work, and also pretty sure that he shouldn't be feeling quite so jumpscared at the sight of his girlfriend. His heart is pounding. He rubs his knuckles against his sternum, and Marisol asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he says. "Sorry. You startled me."

"No, it's fine." She smiles at him, and it's pretty. She looks pretty, in a blue dress that looks black in this light, little metallic threads picked through and glittering. It hugs the curves of her body in a way that Eddie feels obligated to notice, and so he does, and when he looks her in the eye again she's smiling wider, and that's pretty too and Eddie—

Eddie still feels like a fucking fraud.

"I got you a beer," Marisol says. She's got a glass of wine in her other hand. White wine, lipstick marks on the rim.

Eddie smiles back and takes the bottle she hands him. "Thanks."

"I wasn't sure what you'd want." She grins at him, flirty. "You'll have to tell me if I made a bad guess."

He sips the beer. It's a lager, hoppy and astringent in a way that leaves a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. He takes another drink and smiles around the grimace his mouth wants to make. "It's perfect. Thank you."

The pleased relief in her smile doesn't make the lie feel any better. He takes another sip and sets the bottle down, and Marisol settles her hip against his chair, close enough that he can feel the warmth of her body. Close enough that he could wrap an arm around her thighs and pull her into his lap, if he wanted to do that. He shifts forward instead, leaning his elbows against the table, and she lets out a quiet sound and sets her glass down to sit in the chair next to him. The music switches over from Christina Perri to what Eddie is pretty sure is Savage Garden, and on the dance floor Tommy says something that makes Buck laugh and pull him closer.

"They're cute together," Marisol observes. "Buck and, um… Tommy?"

Eddie's fingers twitch on his beer bottle. "Yeah."

"I didn't know that he was, you know…" she trails off. Eddie looks over at her, and she adds, "Not that there's anything wrong with it! I just, I thought he had a girlfriend."

"They broke up. He dates guys too," Eddie says, more emphatically than is really necessary. Like this is a truth that he's always known instead of something Buck told him two weeks ago in the loft, quiet and careful like he was afraid of how Eddie would react. Like he was afraid of Eddie.

It was a date, we were on a date.

So it's new for Buck, too. Not just him. But still.

It feels like something he should have known.

"Okay," Marisol says. The corners of her mouth tighten, and she takes a pointed sip of her wine. "I didn't know that, is all."

I didn't know either, Eddie imagines saying, but the words strangle themselves in his throat just the same as, Actually, I don't like lagers, and, I don't really want company tonight, did. He wonders how the hell Buck does it—just opens his mouth and lets the truth spill out. Eddie can only manage that when it's for other people. Never for himself.

"Sorry," he says out loud. "It's been… a day."

Marisol's face softens a little, and he feels like shit about that, too. It has been a day, is the thing. He woke up in a bathtub, more hungover than he's been in at least a decade, and after that was a wild goose-chase through the desert to retrieve Chim in time for the wedding, and all that is plenty of reason for him to be off his game now. It's just that somehow it also feels like a fucking lie.

On the dance floor, Buck has his cheek pressed to Tommy's. He says something, and Tommy's shoulders shake with laughter, and then they both turn, moving easily together into a kiss. It's quick and tender, and Eddie abruptly feels like the worst kind of voyeur for watching it happen. He turns his head away and finds Marisol looking at him.

The music changes again. TLC, he's pretty sure, because Chim is deep down a very basic Gen X music kind of guy. Or maybe it was Maddie's pick, who knows. Anyway. It's a little more upbeat, but still slow enough to dance to.

"You, uh." He clears his throat, and finds a smile that feels almost right. "Come on, you wanna dance before they close it all down? They're playing our song."

"This is our song?" Marisol asks, but she's laughing. "I don't even think I was born yet when it came out."

Eddie shrugs and holds out a hand. "It could be our song. Maybe for tonight it's just a good song to dance to."

That must have been the right thing to say. She smiles, sets her wine down, and slips her hand into his, letting him tug her to her feet. They wind their way through the chairs to the dance floor, and under the string lights she settles easily into his arms. 

I know you're gonna have it your way or nothing at all, rasps the singer in a sweetly smoky voice, as Eddie closes his eyes, and sways, and breathes, but I think you're moving too fast.

I think you're moving too fast.

He breathes in, and out, and opens his eyes. Marisol smiles up at him, and he smiles back, then cuts his eyes away. There are still a handful of people left on the dance floor with them: Athena and Bobby, swaying together like they're in their own little world, a couple of Buckley cousins with their dates. Buck and Tommy are gone, though, and Eddie almost cranes his head through the crowd to see where they got to before he catches himself.

"To tell you the truth," Marisol says. "I really don't think this is our song."

"Alright, well, we can find another one," Eddie says, and she laughs and sways into him, and he holds onto her, and when he closes his eyes, it's fine; it all feels fine.

#911 #911 fic #eddie diaz #buddie #bucktommy #my fic #i actually have no idea how to tag this pairing-wise lol #it is somehow both all and none of the above

[frvnkcastles]

WAITING FOR THE LIGHT ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: After a tense argument, you get triggered and Frank is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: Past abuse (Frank does not hurt the reader), implied PTSD, feminine nicknames, cursing, hurt/comfort

Word count: 1.5k

Author’s note: This was also a request — I promise I’m gonna try my best to start replying to asks with the corresponding fics! I'm still very much figuring this whole thing out. Stay safe lovelies <3 (Also by now you may have figured out I’m out here naming after FOB lyrics, hehe.)

He would never hurt you. He wouldn’t. Ever. You knew that — and yet, all reason and logic flew out the window just like that as soon as he raised his hand in retaliation.

You couldn’t even remember what you were arguing about, your mind only locked in on that one moment that made your heart hammer in your chest and any words drain from your throat. He had been heading out the front door of your apartment and you reached for his arm, only for him to pull it away and lift his hand, in the process. That was all. Just... moving away from you.

And you still flinched. As soon as he turned to you with his hand up in the air, you flinched. He saw it, saw the panic flash by your eyes, saw the way your throat closed up on you and saw how you took a step back in blind fear. Within seconds, whatever had been building the frustration in his chest evaporated and the heavy bag carrying his guns fell onto the floor with a thud that only startled you further.

”Baby...”, he breathed out, tilting his head to the side while reaching for you with both hands, only for you to react by stepping back and forcing a quick smile onto your lips.

”It’s okay”, you uttered out, running your fingers through your hair and nodding to confirm your own words as you trailed away from him. ”I’ll—I just—I’m gonna... the—the bathroom”, you stammered before turning your eyes away from him, unwilling to face the stare aimed at you as you headed down the hall to hide in your bathroom.

As you disappeared behind the door that was firmly sealed and then locked, Frank couldn’t help but take in a heavy breath and bury his face in his hands. The urge to kick something was almost irresistible, but aware that it would only scare you further, he settled for pacing back and forth and grumbling into his palm.

Whoever had caused you to react like that, was going to fucking suffer. You had always been the one person to look at Frank without fear, and here you were now, hiding from him behind locked doors. He could hear your suffocated cries, too, and it broke his heart in two — how could he do that to you? How could anyone have done that to you?

He struggled to suppress his anger at himself and anyone else who had made you cry, but eventually, he exhaled and stepped over to the bathroom with a gentle knock. ”Sweetheart”, he began, only to realize he had no clue what the fuck to say. There was no excuse or defense, after all. ”Hey, I get if you don’t wanna see me. But tell me you’re alright, yeah?” he pleaded, the despair evident even in his rough voice as he leaned his forehead against the door and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt sick to his stomach.

He heard your sob through the door, and when you unlocked it, he didn’t hesitate to carefully open it and peer in, only to find you lurched over the sink with your head in your hands. You were shaking and your breaths were far too shallow to his liking, and for a split second, right before his instincts kicked in, he felt awfully helpless and unsure what to do.

”Sweetheart…”, he frowned, ”hey, can I touch you? That okay?” His hands reached for you gently, and with a desperate nod, you swiveled towards him and fell against his chest. He cradled you in a tender embrace, one that you wanted badly to wash away all the raw memories of unwanted, hurtful touches. Frank… he would never hurt you.

”It’s okay, baby. Take your time, aight?” he whispered, his gravelly voice grounding you as he rubbed soothing circles on your back. He didn’t waver, not once, the thought of this being too much never crossing his mind. He was going to stand by you through everything — he had decided on that very early on, and his mind could not be changed.

You hiccuped, and damn-near hyperventilating, you clung onto Frank’s shirt like it was your lifeline. ”I’m—I just— I thought…”, you sobbed, and closing his eyes, Frank nodded.

”Shh, sh, shh, I know. I know, darlin’. C’mon, try and take some deep breaths for me, yeah?” he tried quietly and solemnly, and managing a frantic nod against his chest, you followed his example and drew in longer breaths, calming down your panicked state with each inhale.

”C’mere. Let’s get ya outta this hot bathroom. We’ll sit down on the couch, huh? That sound good, baby?” he suggested, talking you through everything, gentle and careful as he began guiding you into the living room. Still sniffling, you let him lead and wiped your eyes, a surge of embarrassment rearing its head in your chest as you sat down on the couch.

”I’m sorry”, was the first coherent thing you managed to speak, your shaky hands fiddling with the sleeves of your shirt as you avoided Frank’s gaze on you. ”I’m really… really sorry”, you added, lifting an ashamed hand to your face as you sighed.

Immediately, Frank was reacting with a mixture of a scoff and a snort — one that you had no time to overthink when he was speaking up.

”You got nothin’ to be sorry about, sweetheart. That wasn’t your fault. Ever. You got that?” he pressed with demanding words but his tone was genuinely soft and concerned for you. He didn’t want you to dwell in unfair guilt or worry, and he needed you to know that. ”I was an asshole”, he continued, before taking in a weak breath and looking down at his fingers. ”But I would never, ever touch you in any way you don’t want to me. I’d never hurt you. I know I’m—I’m a scary guy, yeah? But you never have to be scared of me”, he went on, desperate for you to trust him again.

Quietly, you nodded in understanding, not sure what to say. You believed him, of course, yet words failed you and, in doing so, left Frank fearing the worst.

”Are you?” he whispered weakly. ”Scared of me?”

At that, you looked up at him with widening eyes, your hand automatically leaping to his in a way that made a weight roll off of his chest. At least you still didn’t mind touching him. ”No”, you promised with a shake of your head. ”I was just... startled. But I know. I know you wouldn’t, I do”, you sighed, and with the need to console you somehow, Frank tenderly swiped his finger across the back of your hand to caress the smooth skin there.

”Has that, uh... has that happened before?” he asked lowly, his eyes trained on where your fingertips rested across his, unsure if he’d be able to handle your answer. You could hear it in his voice — the strain, the unwillingness to know mixed in with the insistency on hearing all about it.

Swallowing, you nodded. ”Yeah”, you whispered, not elaborating further but it was enough for Frank to pinch his nose and breathe out with anger.

”Jesus”, he muttered, his heart pounding in his chest and his trigger finger itching — and yet, he gulped it all down and gave you a careful glance. ”I appreciate you tellin’ me. As much as you want to talk about it... I won’t leave your side or judge you, ever”, he vowed, and wiping a tear from your eye at his kind, protective nature, you smiled at him.

”I wish I had met you earlier”, you laughed dryly, not really amused but certainly grateful for this man by your side. ”I’m really lucky to have you now”, you added with your eyes watering up, and with his stomach lurching at your fragile voice, he inched over to you on the couch to press a kiss onto your temple.

”And as long as you want me, I’mma be right here”, he swore.

It seemed almost funny, now — it had been a complete misunderstanding, and certainly, whatever you had been arguing about had been completely forgotten about by now.

”Is there anythin’ else I should know? I don’t ever wanna make you… y’know. That was pretty hard to watch”, Frank swallowed, clearly remorseful, and it made you feel guilty, too.

”I, uh, I don’t really react well if someone raises their voice at me”, you explained quietly, and listening attentively, Frank nodded. ”Arguments happen, I get that. It’s not me trying to get out of it. I just… hope we can have an adult conversation instead of screaming at each other”, you continued, and Frank reacted with his hand coming over yours.

”Hey, shit, that’s more than fair. You got it, darlin’. I’ll, uh, I’ll try my best to make sure we don’t fight, period. But if it comes to that, if I’m outta line, you tell me, okay?” he insisted, and with a weak smile, you squeezed his hand.

”Thank you for being so understanding”, you whispered, and with a sad chuckle, Frank scooted closer to kiss your temple.

”You deserve nothin’ less, sweet darlin’.”

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

[doveypink]

between comfort and chaos [xiao]

summary: xiao decides to change, starting with you. word count: 0.7k warnings: gn!reader, spoilers for perilous trail quest, hurt/comfort, confession. a/n: i’m not immune to xiao angst </3 but this is pretty soft so i hope it makes you feel less sad after the event :,) + title is from ceilings by lizzy mcalpine!

The Wangshu Inn is just as quiet as it usually is this time of night, when the fireflies begin to glow and the crickets chirp their song. You’re standing on the balcony, your arms propped up on the railing while you watch the world fall under its midnight spell. Sleep has evaded you tonight, kept awake by worries in your heart.

Something stirs in your chest at the very moment you begin to recall what’s keeping you up. Almost as if by a sixth sense, you feel the presence of another behind you and call out casually: “So you’re finally back, huh? Took you long enough.”

Xiao pads towards you, catlike in his graceful silence, before he stands near you by the railing. You peer at him from the corner of your eyes while he removes his mask. There’s a pensive look on his face that makes you fully turn towards the yaksha. Your voice softens with sincerity. “Hey, did something happen?”

You knew the gist of Xiao’s plan: to explore the Chasm for clues pertaining to his former comrade’s fate. It was obvious when he explained it to you before his departure that this was a serious endeavor (as if anything with him isn’t serious); even so, you’re aware that this mission was something personal to him. When it comes to his life as a yaksha, you can’t say you know much more than anyone else. He hides a great deal of his past from you despite your years of friendship; you could never force him to tell you about such things, not when you can feel the hole in his heart, but it troubles you nonetheless. Even now, you don’t expect him to give you a clear answer, if anything at all.

This time, Xiao surprises you.

“He never made it out.”

The intensity of his gaze strikes you. You can only manage to respond with a whispered, “Oh.”

The silence that follows is heavy; it settles like snow around you both. There are no words you can say to soothe his troubles. There is nothing you could do at this moment to lift the centuries of pain in his heart.

You reach for his hand instinctively. You half expect him to flinch or turn you away, but the yaksha astonishes you once more by allowing you to slide your palm against his own. His hands are calloused, rough and scarred from centuries of fighting, yet he holds your hand as though he’s touching fine china. When Xiao squeezes your hand slightly, your heart aches.

There are no words to soothe his troubles, but this is enough.

The silence stretches on for what may be an eternity before Xiao speaks again. “I have come to understand something after my mission,” he begins. “I… have been too harsh to this world. To its people, especially. I have known for all of my existence that I am fated to lead a life of misery. That is the path of a yaksha, and I do not fear it. But even so… Even though I know my destiny…,” he says, his grip on your hand tightening. “I may never have peace, but the others — the yaksha, my family — would not want me to live without having experienced the joys of this world. My brothers and sisters may not have had enough time to live through such things, but I do.”

Xiao looks to you, a clarity in his golden eyes that you have never seen before. “You,” he breathes, “are a joy that I refuse to neglect.”

Your heart is in your throat, tears pricking your eyes. “So stay,” you whisper. “Stay with me as long as you’d like.”

Your fingers interlock with Xiao’s, a rare smile gracing his features. “Gladly.”

For the first time in his life, Xiao allows himself to forget the weight of his destiny. He allows himself to have this one corner of the world to be a little selfish, to hold your hand and not feel ashamed. His debt may harm you, but he recalls the traveler’s words: There will always be someone willing to be by your side.

For the first time in his life, Xiao takes comfort in something human.

#dove writes #xiao x reader #alatus x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #hurt/comfort #xiao imagines #xiao drabbles #xiao x gn reader

[jarofstyles]

Stay Right Here- the first meeting

The first meeting between omega maid Y/N and alpha prince Harry!

Enjoy my lovebugs.

Check out our Patreon!

Hellooo. Here is alpha prince Harry’s experience first seeing Y/N 🤭 enjoy!

—

It was a cold day when Harry first saw her.

Arriving back from his journey, the palace was buzzing with people and a celebratory dinner was being hosted in his honor. People milling about preparing for the dinner, decorating with winter florals and garlands, Harry felt a bit of the tension in his shoulders drop. He was home.

When the time came for dinner, Harry was ready for a night of drinking, full bellies, good music, and wonderful company.

What he hadn’t been ready for? A beautiful little omega maid who brought out the finest bottle of wine.

The dining room was made up and decorated to the finest degree, the most precious dinnerware set out, people sprawled across the rooms at different tables. His was filled with the highest class. His father, mother, sister and a few of his cousins, aunts and uncles. The highest ranking and the ones meant to carry the lines. He was supposed to be paying attention to the story his uncle had been saying but there was a scent that caught his attention. It was hard to pinpoint with so many in the room, but it was driving him mad.

It was only when he felt it get closer, the scent strong as he found the source standing beside the table with her head bowed that he realized it was her. That scent that made his cock swell and his teeth clench, the thing that had been distracting him most of the night, was standing right in front of him with a bottle of wine to pour. Only the finest bottle, too, which meant she was in good standing with the staff. They wouldn’t send a bad maid to pour the wine to the highest people.

Harry’s body ached. It burned as he watched her with a sharp glare as she moved around the table, filling glasses with a curtsey each time. It was when she got to him that it changed. It had to- Harry wanted to see more.

“Give me your eyes.” He commanded quiet yet tersely., anticipation riding in him as he watched her tense. She shook a little bit as she raised her face to him. seeing the fear unsettled him. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him.

He realized his error, knowing most royals wouldn’t speak to her unless there was a problem or she was in trouble. His demeanor gentler than before, he tried again. “There is no harm to you. I just wish to see them.” His tone softened for her.

Her beauty was far better than anything he had seen in all of his trips. How she wasn’t one of them, a noble, at least the wife of a nobleman or woman? He had no clue. She took his breath. Stole it from his lungs. Beauty surrounded this omegalike an aura, crystalline visions popping into his head as he observed her. The curve of her lips was something he had seen painted in the most priceless pieces of art, her lashes long and soft. Harry felt displeasure rise when he saw the unease under her gaze, but he could see the interest in it as well. That soothed the beast.

“What is your name?” He questioned, ignoring people around them looking at him for speaking with staff. It was very unusual but he didn’t really care for the normalities at the moment.

“Y/N, your highness.” She peeped, the soft voice wrestling and wiggling under his skin. He wanted to hear more. His hands clenched around the chair again as he tried to reign himself him, his stare seeming to beam through the woman. Her hand still shook as she waited for him to address her again.

“Y/N.” Tasting the name on his lips, he decided it was his new favorite flavor. Until he could taste those curved lips or the honey between her thighs. “Thank you. You’ve done excellent tonight.” He thanked her. “You may go.”

Letting her walk away was something he felt against his inner nature. The alpha in him was thrashing at the idea of her walking further from him but he composed himself, returning to his conversation without addressing why and how he did that.

The entire night he could smell her. His eyes tracked her as she walked across the room, eyes avoiding his even though he knew she was well aware of his stare. She had to feel it. She was polite and graceful, curtseying and pouring the wine, carrying trays. It seemed wrong to him. In his mind, she was someone to be treasured. A beauty, a smell like that? She would be sat at this table in his lap. Like the other omegas did, curled happily into their alphas. His more primal mind couldn’t comprehend why he couldn’t just grab her and do the same. It was a scent match, at least on his end. That’s how it should be done.

If he wasn’t a royal, maybe he would. He wasn’t so out of his mind yet to do so, but he hatched a plan that night. One that would definitely raise waves.

-

“I want a chambermaid.” He spoke to his father, sitting across from his desk. The day after the ball to welcome him back, he sat with his finger stroking over the stubble that had grown that night.

“I thought you didn’t. For your privacy?” His father raised a brow, placing the paper in his hands down on the wood. “I suppose you can. It is your right. I can look and see who is available, set you up with a skilled-“

“I want Y/N.” It was rare he interrupted his father. But he didn’t want just anyone. Just any maid. He wanted the one that had made him go mad the night before, chasing her scent every time she walked around the room and unable to look anywhere but her when she entered the room. “The one who served us wine last night. She was very polite. I wasn’t aware we did more hires when I was gone.”

The king looked over at him with an unreadable gaze, clasping his hands together. “I see.” He let the words sit for a moment. “She’s very pretty, too, Harry.” His brows turned, looking over his son. “I know you know of your duties. Your honor. I don’t mind that you have a chambermaid you have affection for so long as you know it is not something you can keep. If she is willing to change her positon for you in the kitchens… I will see to it.” He paused, looking over his son. “I know you are a mean of honor and will not make this woman do anything she is not willing to do. But be mindful. Be aware. Omegas are delicate creature emotionally. Lay out your bearings and conditions if you move in that direction. I will not have a scandal. Am I clear?”

The king was no fool. He knew exactly why. After seeing him speak and stare at the omega all night, he wasn’t surprised that Harry was interested. The woman caused a commotion with others as well, despite her knowledge.

“Yes, Father.”

If only they knew.

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry blurb #blurb #harry one shot #blurbs #harry styles blurbs #harry smut blurb #concept #alpha harry #alpha Harry styles #prince harry styles #royal harry styles #abo #omgea reader #harry styles x reader #abo verse #Harry styles abo

[chl-owo-e]

-{Anthrax}-

(Spencer Reid X Reader)

Summary; The current case has both Spencer and you on edge. It only worsens when he locks himself in the lab with Anthrax inside, as his symptoms worsen you can only think about him leaving you and his child alone in the world.

Warnings;S4 EP24, Angst, baby genius, fluff, mentions of death, sick Spencer, crying, some small flirting,

———————————————————————

-Spencer and you met during the FBI camp, the only one reading as everyone else was socializing and hanging out with friends. When you spoke to him it was like everything clicked. He was nervous around you, and he spoke diligently telling you facts about the color of your nails and what it means about you.

It wasn’t till he asked you out on a date shyly that you knew you wanted to stay with him for the rest of your life. As the both of you gotten accepted into the BAU thats when Spencer brought up the idea of moving in with each other. Two years later Spencer had asked you to marry him, it was in a library where you both had your first date.

When you find out you were pregnant Spencer couldn’t be any happier. He was elated to know that his beautiful wife was carrying his child. Spencer couldn’t wait to hold the bundle of joy, he almost always spoke to the bump at any time of day especially when he gets excited about something. Late at night he would mumble facts to the bump tiredly as he rubs it soothing you to sleep.

Now you stand here, married to the love of your life for 6 years with a 4 year old toddler at home being taken care of by your parents. Spencer and you were rushed out of your house with a very urgent call from JJ. Not stating anything only to come to the office it’s important.

“Spence! Are you ready? We have to go now or JJ will have it out with us!” You had yelled from inside your room as you slid on your black Mary Janes. You stood up and fixed your earrings whilst you made your way out the room. In-front of you stood Spencer and your little boy smiling and laughing. From context clues you figured out that Spencer had showed him his signature penny magic trick.

You looked down towards the wooden flooring, a shiny burnt sienna coin catches your eye facing heads up right at you. Your eyes trail up to the two boys with a small happy smile over your features. “Sorry honey did you say something?” He says in between giggles next your son screams and runs straight at you “MOMMY!” His pitter pattering of footsteps fills the hallway, his hands reach up making grabby motions for you to pick him up.

Your hands reach down and wrap around his body as you pick him up and set him on your waist. “We have to go, are you ready?” You ask Spencer again more clearly, your hand brushes the little boys curly hair out of his face. “Oh, yeah! Just let me get my badge and we can go.” Spencer shot up from his crouching position and walked off into the bedroom for his badge.

“You ready to go to grandmas? Come on buddy lets get your shoes on.” You baby talk him and walk to his room where his shoes were tucked away. After Spencer and you were done getting ready with your son, Spencer buckles him up in his carseat. With a sippy cup in one hand and a baggy of goldfish in the other your son happily sits patiently in his seat.

Spencer sits in the passenger seat as you buckle yourself in the drivers. The drive to your parents house was short, Disney music playing throughout the car and your child screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs. Spencers hand lays gently on your thigh as he hums the lyrics quietly.

Right as you dropped your son off at your parents giving them the time to take care of your bright sunny child. JJ called with an urgency in her voice. “Are you guys coming now? Sorry to be bothersome, but this is really important and I need you guys here asap!” Her voice had some wavering through it. Spencers eyes widen and looked at you with a concerned face.

“What happened? Is there a case?” Spencer asked as a slight crack etched its way into his voice. “I cant say now, especially on the phone. You guys will have to wait till you get here.” She says exasperated. Spencer and you said your goodbyes to JJ and hung up. You continued to drive to the BAU but little bit faster.

Entering the BAU you see a lot more people than usual. “Military? What’s happening.” Spencer questioned as he paused after going through the glass doors. Standing next to him you look at him with confusion lacing on your face. He looks back at you with the same face, sooner or later Hotch comes out of his office and called for a meeting with the team.

“This is Dr.Linda Kimura, chief of special pathogens with the CDC” JJ introduces a young women while she sorts pills into small cups. “Hi, I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances.” Linda says in a soft professional voice. “Wait what circumstances?” You asked as you face scrunches as you look at Linda and JJ. “We need to get started.” Hotchner walks into the room and gives everyone his signature stern look.

JJ gave the brief for the case quickly, to the group. There is a mass break for anthrax that is hitting in certain points of the town and is leaving people sick only for them to die in the hospital hours later. Aaron soon tells everyone that we are not to tell anyone about it either. As it will cause a mass hysteria.

Hotch then gives orders for each person in the room, “Reid got with DR. Kimura to the hospital and talk to the victims. Agent Reid, morgan and, Prentiss a hazmat team will accompany you to the crime scene. Theres CIPRO, everybody needs to take it before we go.” He finishes his orders and everyone takes a cup that Linda hands to us.

Right as Spencer left you wanted to make sure you see him well before he could get sick. “Stay safe…please. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.” Your saddened voice came out wavering, you gently grabbed his face and gave him a kiss on his forehead. “I will, you need to stay safe too! You’re going to the crime scene.” Spencer replies with his eyebrows furrowing in an upset manner.

“Ill never leave you, I hope you know that. I have to go now, stay safe please.” Spencer spoke right before he got into Dr. Kimura’s car. You watched as the car turned out of the parking lot and into the road on its way to the hospital. Now that only leaves you to go and help Morgan and Emily at the crime scene. You walk speedly to the black SUV and got in the back.

“Took you long enough, I thought you were making out with pretty boy over there.” Morgans voice had snapped you out of the trance you were in. “Ha Ha very funny. I was just telling him to be safe, you know since he’s going to be around a lot of sick people.” You tell him with some worry in your voice.

The drive felt short, your brain trying to shut itself off from worrying you too much kept it from thinking about the time crunch you are on. Made you forget you were even in a car driving the opposite direction that Spencer was going. Once you had gotten to the park Emily spoke right to one of the people in the suits.

The guy walked off to continue on with everything with his friend. “This park doesn’t scream ‘target’ to me.” You spoke as you looked out onto the beautiful scenery. “Terrorists usually target symbols—white house, pentagon, world trade center. I mean its a nice park, but its not a symbol.” Morgan adds trying to get and explanation for everything.

“Ok, so, maybe it’s symbolic for the Unsub.” Prentiss says while looking at both you and Morgan. Soon we get a call from Garcia and she tells us to go to a Book front.

We appear there and have some more people wearing hazmats and checking the place out for more Anthrax residue. You hear Morgan say his goodbyes to JJ before talking to Emily about keeping quiet about everything. Next one of the men calls Morgan to tell him there was a positive test. “This had to be where he did his test run.” You told the two as you looked back to the book store.

The three of you got back into the black SUV and drove back to the BAU for the profile Hotch will be conducting. Right has Morgan parked into the lot you basically ran inside to see Spencer again. Only wanting to be in his presence, to see his face once more.

“Do we have everyone for the profile?” Hotch questions Rossi as he replies to him about the room having too many alpha males in the room. “Lets get started. Because the locations are not symbolically significant, we believe that these attacks are personal.” Aaron speaks in a dominant tone to everyone in the room.

“Understanding the significance of the locations will be the key to identifying him.” Prentiss says informing everyone as well. The team took turns and gave out the profile to the military people that stood in the bullpen. You started to zone everyones voice out, from what JJ told you is that Spencer was still at the hospital talking to all the patients. You wish to see him, but you wish to see your son the most.

He likes to play outside with your parents dog, what if he gets sick too? What if Spencer get sick at the hospital? What would you do then? Losing your son would mean you lose you life. But also losing Spencer would mean you would lose your whole world. Nothing could bring you back from those losses.

“Y/n, are you ok? I know, it’s scary to know that we cant tell anyone. Im here for you.” Emily placed her hand on your shoulder. “Yeah, I know, I should be fine as long as i have Spencer.” You tell her, your voice cracks a bit as tears brim your eyes.

“Y/n, pull Spencer from the hospital and go to Dr. Nickols’s home.” Hotches voice was powerful over all the other noises in the bull pen. You give him a nod and you run to the SUV, driving all the way to Spencer. You sped walked inside the hospital’s emergency room all the way to the ICU. Once you caught sight of his signature long fluffy brown hair, you ran to him.

Spencer turned to you and automatically opened his arms for a hug at the sight of you. His arms pulls you into an warm embrace. You hide your face into his chest taking in his scent brings comfort to you and your stiff body relaxes. “Im here, you’re here, were here.” His voice was soft with you, whispering it in your ear.

You and Spencer drove to the suspect’s house, it looked nice like a normal family home. “He had guests over for a party last month.” You tell him as you take in your surroundings. “We should probably take a look around anyways.” He says before whispering a small ow under his breath while you and him pass a bush on the sidewalk.

Garcia calls you leaving you distracted as Spencer runs off and explores the home without you. “The lab is clean.” You tell to Spencer only for you to see he disappeared. “Spence? Spence? Spencer?” You start to twist and turn to try and find a glimpse of your lover. You walk up the sidewalk to the house and towards the inside. “No! Dont! Stay back!” Spencer yells as he runs to the door and locks himself inside.

“Spencer what’s wrong? What are you doing?” You start to panic and try to wriggle the door open. “Im sorry, Im so sorry.” Spencer whimpers with tears in his eyes. “Im going to call Hotch, and were going to get you out of here. Okay? Were going to get you out of here and into the hospital.” You were on the verge of tears also, now understanding what predicament you’re in now.

You lean your forehead on the glass letting a few tears roll down your cheeks. “I just want you to know I love you, and if anything goes south and I dont make it out of here tell our son I love him too.” Spencer cries tears freely run down his face finally accepting that he’ll probably not see his son again. “Don’t talk like that Spencer! You’ll see him Again and you’ll be able to tell him yourself. You’ll be fine! We’ll go home and watch cartoons and eat ice cream with him like we always do. You’ll be fine Spence, you are fine Spencer.” You cried to him remembering the time you and him stayed up late on a Wednesday night eating strawberry ice-cream with your son while watching cartoons.

Everyone came to the scene, the whole team. Emily was consoling you about everything, you knew you had to be strong but your biggest fear was happening right now. You could lose Spencer right now and you’re doing nothing about it and you couldn’t do anything about it. “Y/n let Morgan, Hotch and I do this, you should take a break. Only god knows how you feel right now.” Her voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “He needs me Em. He needs me, and im here crying about it! I should be helping him! Better yet i should be the one in there and not him!” You were sobbing now, you’ve seen how the people turned out like. They were in pain through out the whole time they were sick and now Spencer has to go through that.

Emily hugs you as a way to calm your racing heart, and your tears as they were never ending. You automatically hugged her back, arms wrapping around her neck as a heart wrenching sob breaks through your throat. Emily stood there and held you as you cried your heart out. No words left her mouth, she just soothingly rubbed your back till your tears seemed to stop.

Morgan walked to you and Emily with a smile like he heard the best news ever. “Spencer figured it out, hes out of the room and he is now being hosed down. You should ride with him to the hospital.” He was slow with the way he said anything. You unwrap your arms around Emily and went to hug Morgan. “Thank you so much.” You tell him with your chin on his shoulder.

Then you let go of him to see Spencer, you run all the way to the tent Morgan said he was being hosed off at. “Spencer?” You say aloud as you walk into the tent. “In here!” He yells slightly as his voice goes hoarse. “They’re going to get me naked so I don’t think you wanna be here.” He tells you shyly with a small pink tint on his cheeks. “Ive seen you naked before Spencer, i have seen every crevice on your body.” You giggle at him as you cross your arms over your body.

———————————————————————

A/N;This took me like 3 hours help

#spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid 📚👓 #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

[bandgie]

It’s been a whillle lovely, hiya 🧡🥰

I just wanted to say that if your request are opened I wanted to ask for more Perv roommate or perv best friend Seungmin, this trope for him really does it for me 😵‍💫🤤

But no pressure either way

Have a good day and stay healthy 🧡

- 🧡anon

hiiii thank you and I hope you're doing well! yes my requests are closed for now, but I can defo do a little drabble! you say seungmin as your bff or roommate BUT I have a twisted idea

warnings! MDNI 18+, dubcon? blindfold use, cuckhold!minho, established kink but reader is manipulated, pussy eating, overstim mentions

drabble ahead!

ᥫ᭡ thoughts...

you're dating minho, have been for a while. your relationship is damn near perfect, to this day, you don't know how you scored such a pretty man. the bedroom is very exciting too, minho has such a good way of spicing things up!

so it's no surprise when he wants to touch you blindfolded. making you fully trust your lover with no clue what's going to happen to you. the idea scares you as much as it turns you on, and you agree rather happily. minho keeps you in the dark though, he doesn't plan on touching you at all actually 

he's known that seungmin watches you two fuck. minho keeps the door cracked just slightly so your roommate can have a peep at your pussy swallowing his cock, moaning quietly but still so prettily. your boyfriend has even caught seungmin jerking off to stolen underwear. he was mad at first...but...he had an idea

you're blindfolded, anxiously waiting for your lover. he instructed you to keep your legs folded against your chest and open. you weren't allowed to touch yourself, but you were still finding yourself wet from anticipation. then you hear the door open, the shuffle of feet coming in

strange? sounds like there's more than one person 

there's not enough time to really question it because you soon feel eager lips on your clit. you gasp and jolt, not used to minho being so enthusiastic. he licks and sucks aggressively, pulling back to spit on your pussy before digging back in

it feels so different, almost unfamiliar. even his fingers that dig into the flesh of the back of your thighs don't ring a bell. minho is too rough, he's too eager, he's just not what you're used to

"m-minho?" you manage to squeak out his name in the midst of your moans. 

"did I say you could talk?" his voice echoes in the room. you relax upon hearing minho's voice, it soothes you. but it sounds more beside you than between your thighs. it's weird, but you assume it's because the blindfold is messing with your other senses.

seungmin couldn't believe his eyes when minho had first brought him into the room. he thought it was strange that minho told him to not speak before they entered, but the moment Seungmin saw you nude, he understood 

he'd dreamt about this for weeks, months, since the moment he met you. all the secret videos and pictures he snuck of you getting fucked couldn't compare to this moment, to your taste. it's taking everything in him to not moan in your pussy.

god and you don't even know it's seungmin violating you while your boyfriend watches. it adds a whole other sense of arousal to his cock. he loves watching your lips twist in pleasure, the hidden eyes he's sure are rolled to the back of your head. you keep moaning Minho's name. maybe that should tick him off, but seungmin rather likes it

and your moans are even more beautiful up close. he can tell you're getting close. he's watched you both so many times that seungmin feels like he knows every inch of your body. your thighs threaten to snap on his head, but you keep them open. you're such a good girl for seungmin, even if you don't know it.

ohhh and he eats you through your orgasm. your shaking and whining, but he just keeps sucking and licking despite that. minho has always overstimulated you, but not like this. it almost hurts, and the blindfold starts gathering your tears 

minho has to rip Seungmin away from your throbbing clit. the sudden tear makes you arch your back to chase his hot mouth. you twitch and try to catch your breath, thanking minho for letting up on you. 

seungmin almost gets mad. but he has to remember to keep quiet, otherwise you'd know. if he plays his cards right, maybe minho will let him fuck you. 

or maybe he could just sneak in while you're sleeping and Minho's out the house.

#🧡 anon #ᥫ᭡ thoughts... #seungmin! #leeknow! #skz smut #skz seungmin #skz lee minho #skz minho #stray kids seungmin #stray kids smut #stray kids minho #skz drabble #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours

[amanitalovinghobgoblin]

Papa Bear

Halsin x reader.

Warnings: daddy kink (but it's papa 'cause he's a bear), faun reader (Roman myth), innocent reader (she's a magical creature who hasn't left her home before the parasite), and heats.

Description: Leaving your realm causes you to have your first heat, you're so very fertile and don't even know it! Halsin can't resist his urges when you come to him begging for help.

A/N: Read the warnings before committing lol. Faun culture is homebrewed in this, I only have the standard D&D player book to go off of. You can find this on Ao3 as well.

Halsin wakes to being vigorously shaken, he's jolted out of his grogginess when he sees your sobbing face. In seconds he sits up and cups your face, wiping your tears away. "What has happened? Are you injured?" He asks, concern lacing his voice, you nod "I think so...?" The uncertainty in your answer is confusing to the elf.

"What is wrong, cub?" He sees you shiver at the nickname, something you had never done. He raises a brow as he gets a clue, looking down his assumption was right. Your inner thigh fur is coated in a thick and sticky fluid, even your loincloth is wet, and the flap of fabric is stuck to your groin from your slick. "I feel weird and my-" Your face burns even more, you can't even force the vulgar words out of your mouth.

Halsin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, saying a basic prayer to Silvanus in his head and a line about protecting nature's innocents. It takes all in him not to succumb to the overwhelming desire that grows within his pants. He rubs your back soothingly. "You're not injured" he assures you, looking at him with teary eyes he can tell you don't believe him "What's wrong with me then?" You sniffle.

"Nothing!" He says a bit too loudly, perhaps overexcited, scaring you with his change in tone. Seeing your ears pin back he smiles kindly "you are just in heat, completely natural" you tilt your head, and Halsin clears his throat "heat, is when your body prepares itself for child" your eyes widen "but-but I can't have a baby! I have a worm in my head, I can't be a mother right now!" Halsin laughs, patting your head "you do not need to have a baby, your body is simply telling you you're ready for one" he sees you slowly process the information, and your tail flicks back and forth.

"How come I've never had it before?" You ask, wiping your tears on your sleeve. "In the Faunlands you live forever, you do not need to breed, in this plane, you live a mortal life and are subject to mortal fauna functions" you blush, somewhat embarrassed by the fact this non-faunus knows more about your biology than you.

"You can make me stop leaking then?" Oak Father bless your soul. You have no idea what you're getting into.

"I suppose I can offer some... Relief, it will not stop your heat, however" you eagerly nod "please" and you don't need to ask again. Halsin knows he should take you to the forest, somewhere away from your stowaways, where no one can hear you, yet... He can't find it in himself too, he wants them to hear you, to know he's bonded with you.

He coaxes you to lay on your front on his bedroll, the position being much more comfortable for your legs than laying on your back. He gets behind you, rubbing circles into your hips to soothe your lasting sniffles "if I go too far for your liking, you will tell me, understand?" He says firmly, stroking the fur on your bottom half, you nod, grabbing his pillow for comfort "say it out loud." He needs to be strict with you, he knows how much of a people-pleaser you are.

Your cheeks flush "I'll say if you go too far" the question makes you nervous, and you begin to worry about what could be too far. Though, you trusted the druid, Halsin is the kindest person you've met. Carefully he pulls the strings of your loincloth, peeling the fabric away chuckling when he sees strings of slick sticking to the fabric, he brings two fingers to sink between your labia and gathers your wetness "I see why you're so distressed, cub, you're so swollen and hot down here, so wet too" he tests your hole with a fingertip, pleased when he finds he can sink two fingers in you with ease.

You squeal at the insertion, hoof hitting the ground over and over, Halsin pauses and opens his mouth to check if you're in pain, only to stop and smile when you begin fucking yourself on his fingers desperately "ah papa, please!" That stops him in his tracks, raising a curious brow and processing what you've just called him. You don't take notice, too caught up in the overwhelming urges that rack your body.

It made him feel guilty at first, you had said something to the effect of seeing him as a father figure, since he was much older and taught you things you didn't know about the realm, and you had jokingly called him papa bear once... But he doesn't find himself hating it from your lips, this isn't the first time he's indulged the kink for someone, but it is the first where it got him off as well, something about your little cries begging your 'papa' for more was very enticing to the elf.

"Papa, papa~ please, it hurts, more, please~" The squelching of your cunt alone is loud enough to wake up your party, and he should tell you to quiet down, it would be the kind thing to do, that said... Maybe just a little bit longer. He presses his chest against your back, adding a third finger into your slick cunt and you gasp loudly, pressing your hips into his hand, plunging them deeper "papa, feels so good" he grabs your hips firmly, keeping you from moving so he can take control once more, the feeling in you belly build and builds as Halsin works your cunt open.

The feeling in your tummy becomes overwhelming, youre confused by the feeling "stop!" And Halsin immediately ceases his actions, removing his fingers from you and sitting up "what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He asks, you hug his pillow, rolling on your back under him having your legs cage his in, you shyly look away "no, you didn't hurt me" he leans down with your reassurance, pressing his forehead against yours "what happened then, cub?" His cock twitches violently when you whimper at the term of endearment.

"Something was going to happen" Halsin chuckles which makes you flush in embarrassment "what's so funny?" You tilt your head. Halsin shakes his head "that was just your orgasm, the best part of sex" he kisses your neck tenderly, making you giggle and gasp "the-then can we do it again?" He nods, kissing your forehead before grabbing your furry legs and pulling you forward until your naked crotch is flush against his.

"Grind on it."

His voice is stern, a low growl that makes your ears twitch and you obey without a word, rutting your hips against his, grinding your naked cunt needily on his clothed erection. Tears well in those big eyes of yours and Halsin knows you're close, and coaxes your orgasm out of you by gently rubbing your swollen clit. With a loud moan of 'papa' you gush on the elf's leather pants, wetting them even more than before.

He continues to rub you after your orgasm, not stopping until you try to pull away. Halsin chuckles, removing his hand and petting your hip "you did well, cub" he praises as you pant and drool, grip loosening on his pillow, leaning over you, he kisses the top of your head, looking down as he hears you snore lightly. The druid smiles, he grabs the pillow from you and puts the dry side behind your head.

He takes his place beside you, wrapping his arm around your slack body, groaning and wincing when your tail brushes his erection. Halsin would like to relieve himself, but he didn't want to overwhelm you, he also didn't know how you'd feel about him having sex with you. He smiles though, there will be many opportunities in the coming days to give you some hands-on learning.

#halsin x you #halsin x reader #female reader #reader insert #x reader #reader #Fauns & Satyrs #Faun reader #smut #18+ only #18+ content #fanfic #halsin #Bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #Baldur's Gate 3 x Reader #bg3 x reader #innocent reader

[gunilslaugh]

How would they react to their so being from a different country and speaking their native language around them for the first time

Thank you for requesting!

All members ˜• o •˜

Summary: Speaking your native language in front of Xdinary Heroes for the first time.

WC:807

Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner.

Gunil

If you’re from an English speaking country then Gunil still has you covered. If you’re from another English speaking country that isn’t America he would definitely try to mimic your accent and he wants to learn any word differences/slang used in your country.

The first time that he hears you speak your native language he is a bit shocked because he wasn’t expecting it. He happened to walk into the room while you were on the phone with someone and heard you speaking in your native tongue.

“What was that?” he chuckled lightly. 

“Oh I was just talking to my mom,” you explained.

“This is the first time I heard you speak in your native language. Your tone of voice sounded so different,” he stated amused. 

“Ah that’s right. You never heard me speak in my mother language.” From then Gunil insists you teach him some of your language. He wants to at least be able to speak a couple of phrases of it with you.

Jungsu

The first time Jungsu heard you speak in your native language was after you had just woken up from a nap. You had asked him to hand you your phone, except with still being sleepy you asked in your native language. 

“You know I would like to do whatever you just asked, but I have no clue what you said,” he tells you. 

“Oh,” you chuckled. “ I asked for you to hand me my phone,” you translated. 

“Here you go.” He passes you your phone. “Can you repeat what you said?” he requests. 

“About handing me my phone?” Jungsu nodded. You repeat what you said before and Jungsu tries to repeat it. His pronunciation is a little off, but his determination is adorable. 

Gaon/Jiseok

Frustration filled your body and a slew of words in your native language spilled from your mouth. Jiseok turns his head from where he sat next to you, looking at you with wide eyes. 

“I don’t know what you just said, but it sounded scary,” he noted. This causes you to laugh, successfully elevating some of your frustration. 

“They weren’t the nicest words,” you admitted. 

“Teach me!” Jiseok adamantly asked. Making you laugh again, but then you spend the next ten minutes teaching him some of the  not so nice words in your language. After that Jiseok becomes pretty determined to learn some of your native language. He wants to be able to tell you “Good morning”, “Goodnight” and “I love you” at the very least.

O.de/Seungmin

The first time Seungmin heard you speak your native language was when the two of you were on a date together and one of your friends from back home called you. Seungmin instantly became intrigued and almost lost in your voice as he listened to you talk to your friend. Once you hang up you notice Seungmin staring at you with a dopey smile. 

“What?” you questioned, snapping him back.

“I like hearing you talk in your native language,” he answered. 

“Even if you don’t know what I’m saying?” you said playfully. 

“Yes, even if I don’t know what you’re saying. I just like listening to you talk. It’s soothing,” he explained. He tries (and fails) to say something in your language.

Junhan/Hyeongjun

Hyeongjun was awoken in the middle of the night by you muttering something in your sleep. He leaned closer to you to try and listen to what you were saying. Only to discover that you were muttering in your native language. He asks you about it the next morning. 

“Y/n what does-” he tries his best to repeat what he heard you muttering in your sleep. “-mean?”

You had to ask him to repeat it a couple of times until you could decipher what he was trying to say.

“It means stop trying to take my balloon,” you laughed. “Where did you hear that?” 

“You were muttering it in your sleep last night,” he tells you. Wants to learn your language to know what other nonsense you mutter in your sleep.

Jooyeon

It was late at night and you were very sleepy to say the least, but Jooyeon insisted on you two watching the final episodes of a show you were watching together. This resulted in your sleepy brain defaulting to using your native language when you spoke. 

“You’re speaking gibberish now?” Jooyeon remarked in a playful tone. It took him a second before he realized that it was your native language that just came out of your mouth. 

“No, I asked how much time is left,” you clarified. 

“Ten minutes. Then we can go to bed sleepyhead. How do you say sleepyhead in your language?” he prompted. You tried to think, but couldn’t remember if there was such a term in your language. 

“I don’t know,” you chuckled.

#xdinary heroes #xdh #xdh imagines #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xh gunil #xh jungsu #xh gaon #xh jiseok #xh o.de #xh ode #xh seungmin #xh junhan #xh hyeongjun #xh jooyeon #gunil x reader #jungsu x reader #gaon x reader #jiseok x reader #o.de x reader #seungmin x reader #oh seungmin x reader #junhan x reader #han hyeongjun x reader #hyeongjun x reader #jooyeon x reader #koo gunil #goo gunil #gunil

[clunelover]

Okay book rec - I’m obsessed with this series, Rivers of London, about a young London police officer who meets a ghost and then ends up being inducted into the magic arm of the police. Then the books are sort of combination crime and sci fi/fantasy? I’m always hesitant to tell people about them cause they’re not Literary Fiction (🙄) but - they’re funny and interesting and exciting and unique…I can’t speak to what it’s like to just read them, because I do them as audiobooks, which I really really recommend - they’re read by a Ghanaian-British man with the most amaaaazing voice that IMO is essential to the books as I’ve experienced them. Anyway, without giving too much away, some of the things that make them unique:

- the protagonist is biracial, his dad is a white British guy and his mom is from Sierra Leone. The author is himself a white guy married to an African woman, and they have a biracial son, so I think he draws from that, in a way that feels…idk, like, smart about race, but in a casual way that sometimes comes close to skirting the lines of what is PC, but always stays on the right side of that, and seems true to the character, and nobody is a stereotype? Very deftly done.

- the protagonist has an interest in architecture so there’s random sprinklings about architectural styles and history of London that again feels true to the character and not forced, but also very unique and interesting

- the supernatural elements are very well realized and not hokey

- Like the pitch perfect way race and class are handled, there’s a similarly deft touch to addiction, sexuality, gender identity, etc. (but again not in that heavy handed “there are Diverse Characters in this book!” way). Like…okay I am going to spoil one little moment from like the 8th book in the series because I keep coming back to it as a great example:

The detective is meeting a group of people and identifies one as “a white woman with short brown hair” and then when the introductions are made (paraphrasing this to the best of my memory):

“She said, ‘my name’s Victor,’ with a particular emphasis on the name, as if to say ‘here’s a clue, let’s see if you get one.’ I shook his hand and said I was pleased to meet him.” Like - it just felt so real, he thought it was a woman, he found out he was wrong, he switched pronouns in his mind.

- And then the intrigue and suspense and all that across the books is great too

So, I’ve listened to all 9 of these books (and am DYING for the next one) multiple times, just like any time I’m doing something and need something to listen to, I re-listen to one of them because repetition is so soothing to me. I strongly recommend them AS AUDIOBOOKS

Oh also I think they’re being developed into a tv show, so get on it now so you can say you liked the books better!!

#oh and the second one is uncharacteristically smutty #but it’s for a REASON #so don’t worry if you get to that one and think it’s weird #rivers of london

[harry-styles-obsessed]

One night stand… gone wrong| 2

Tw’s: pregnancy, birth- ect ect- if any of these topics are sensitive to you please read at your own discretion <3

Also please excuse the terrible time skips- enjoy(:

Recap: You spent the rest of the day talking to him, coming up with plans- ideas, simply trying to figure it out with him and now you were laying in bed his arms wrapped around you, you didn’t think it was romantic… simply in a comforting way. But either way you didn’t mind. He was bringing comfort to you either way. The tv played quietly in the background your eyes fluttering shut tiredly his breathing soft and quiet in your ears almost acting as a lullaby to send you into a peaceful sleep after all the panic and stress you had felt. “You can go to sleep” he comforted gently “I’m not going anywhere… ‘m here to stay.” He murmured softly his own voice laced with tiredness and slight sleepiness his head lightly resting on your shoulder his eyes fluttered shut as you relaxed back into him “mm…” you hummed out happily just glad he was there to stay. As the more you relaxed the more you started thinking “think I wanna keep it” you murmured and he let out a tired hum “alright… keep on thinking until you know what you want to do okay” he murmured quietly and you nodded your head relaxing back into him as you closed your eyes sleepily “if you do choose to keep it… just know you’re gonna be a great mum.” He whispered into your ear and just like the first time you had met him butterflies gently cascaded around your stomach a little smile remaining on your lips as you slowly dozed off to sleep… maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all?

————————————————————————

Harry spent the next few days and weeks and even months with you, being right there to support you he didn’t dare leave your side- even if he had concerts to do or interviews he either opted to do them by FaceTime or if he had a concert he simply couldn’t postpone he either brought you along with him or just performed it after you convincing him you’d be fine. He had grown rather protective over you so much so you were now confused what your relationship status was with him- friends? Partners? Friends with benefits? You weren’t entirely sure but you didn’t really mind as he was clearly protective over you and just wanted you to be okay. Your stomach had been growing constantly the baby bump soon showing to the point you weren’t able to hide it anymore but you didn’t mind. Your parents were supportive and so were your friends. Harry was the sweetest and most supportive and you couldn’t help but fall more and more in love with him, he came to every scan and every single check up with you no matter what was happening he came with you and as he promised was there to support you throughout it all and some of it was scary terrifying even, and you knew if he wasn’t there and you were alone then you wouldn’t have a clue what to do… he made you feel safe. Very safe. And you were forever grateful.

“I’ll be fine Harry” your voice was tired as you weakly dropped your head to rest against the toilet seat, you had been puking up whatever contents your stomach held for a good 45 minutes now, the morning sickness was exhausting. “Yeah sure. Don’t give me that. Let me take care of you.” He said as he slowly walked into the bathroom a bottle of water held in one hand and a large plastic bowl held in his other hand before he placed them down his large hands immediately working to pull your hair back away from your face as he held your hair up in a pony tail, a hair tie on his wrist as he gently tied your hair into a loose messy bun before he crouched down beside you his hand slowly rubbing up and down your back in a soothing manner “feel like shit” you grumbled out and he nodded slowly not wanting to say anything wrong like ‘I know I know’ as he in fact did not know… for one he wasn’t a woman and he most definitely couldn’t get pregnant and experience morning sickness so he simply remained silent his hand continuing to gently rub up and down your back slowly and gently. “What do you want?” He asked softly and you furrowed your brows “what?” You asked confused “boy or girl” he said and you let out a soft laugh “sorry, just trying to make conversation” he murmured with a little smile even if he didn’t like to admit it he was scared, nervous even… he was a top tier celebrity who was constantly in the eye of fans and paparazzi…. He wanted to keep you and the baby out of their way… he didn’t care- he wasn’t letting those pigs get money off of photos of you or his child. Photos of him were fine but he had become protective over you extremely protective to the point he was willing to smash a camera if needs be. Paparazzi tested his limits constantly and usually he was pretty good at not being affected but if you were brought into it then he would freak. He wouldn’t let them take pictures of you. Nor would he let them hurt you. “I think I want a little boy… don’t mind though.” You spoke snapping Harry out of it and he smiled pressing a kiss to your forehead “I don’t mind either way… but if I’d have to choose I’d want a little girl… bet she’d look just like you.” He spoke sweetly and you smiled but that smile quickly was turned upside down as you dry heaved into the toilet “ugh I hate this.” You shined out as he continued to gently rub up and down your back slowly and gently “you’re doing so well. So well.”

-

A few weeks had passed by and now was your baby shower, you didn’t want a massive one only you and Harry and a few friends as well as your parents. You had your mum make cupcakes and one of the cupcakes had coloured fondant in it. “Okay dad you go first” you said excitedly as you smiled, Harry’s hand lightly resting on your knee as you was happy too. He was excited. He couldn’t wait to see what gender the baby was. Your dad quickly showed that there was no fondant in it a few groans echoing around as you laughed softly, your friends did the same but they didn’t have it either and by the end of it the two cupcakes left were yours and Harry’s “let’s do it together” he suggested and you nodded excitedly as you held onto his hand before you both at the exact same time bit into the cupcake “oh my god!!” Harry’s voice was excited and you were quick to follow his excitement as your mum had sneakily had two cupcakes filled with fondant for both you and Harry specifically “we’re having a little boy!!” You exclaimed your arms quickly wrapping around the man as he held onto you tightly a wide smile on his face as he held you in his embrace before he pressed a little kiss to the top of your head “a little boy…” he said with a warm smile the excitement you both shared with one another being totally indescribable. You were nervous before but now you were beyond excited you couldn’t wait to meet your little boy.

-

Weeks turned into months and before you knew it your due date was only a few days away, you and Harry had gotten closer. He was starting to go out more to achieve his concerts and such but he was always only a call away always making sure you were okay after every concert he did. You were sat on the couch, Harry sitting beside you arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders- it was early in the morning and he didn’t have to be at work until 3 ish so you had all day with him practically. You held the first scans and most recent scans of your baby boy in your hands a wide smile on your face Harry’s chin gently resting on your shoulder as he looked at the scans too “he’s going to be so handsome… gonna have the best mum ever.” He murmured to you as he pressed a light kiss to your cheek and you smiled softly, he had been very kiss-y with you yet you both hadn’t been able to establish proper feelings yet. “Going to have the best dad too.” You said slowly turning to look at him forgetting just how close you were with him your breath gently fanning over his lips as he gazed into your eyes his lips mere inches away from yours his eyes searching yours and yours searched his right back you didn’t think you would ever fall in love with someone like this… not ever… but maybe the baby was a blessing in disguise?

And on that last thought you gently leaned in pressing a kiss to his lips your hand caressing against his cheek and he was quick to caress his hand against the nape of your neck pulling you closer to him, deepening the kiss that slight bit more- he kissed you so deeply and so passionately as if he was kissing you for the first time all over again, the first time was beautiful- slightly sloppy and needy but right now it wasn’t that, right now it was perfect… gentle… slow… full of no need or want- simply full of love. You slowly pulled back looking into his eyes “too soon?” You asked worriedly but he instead of saying anything simply pulled you back in again his lips pressing against yours as he wrapped his arms around you kissing you deeply and passionately as you and him had a slight make out session and you both knew you both needed that… needed it because it was simply brewing, it had been brewing for a long time the tension being strong “not too soon, no…” he murmured assuringly as he smiled into your eyes “just on time” he said softly before he kissed you again, you both kissing until you were both left breathless over and over again.

That evening was nice, Harry left for work and you were just resting on the couch watching Harry Potter and the goblet of fire. You weren’t really paying attention to it your attention mainly on your phone as you scrolled through social media eyes slightly tired and after a while you stood up off of the couch attempting to walk to the kitchen but before you could even make an attempt a wetness quickly began dripping down your legs, as if you had peed yourself but you hadn’t. You were confused and slightly horrified to say the least a slight pool of liquid forming just below you but that’s when it hit you… Shit it didn’t take long for you to put the puzzle pieces together and you were quick to ring Harry your hand resting on your belly, this wasn’t good- this couldn’t be good. Your waters had broke! Fuck. His phone went to voicemail over and over again before finally someone answered “hello,” it was a males voice but it wasn’t Harry “h-h-hi… get Harry please…” you practically begged “I’m sorry who is this?” The voice questioned “I’m Harry’s friend! Y/n! Please!” You spoke desperately hearing a sudden sharp intake of breath before the sound of screaming fans were heard- Harry was performing… of course your waters broke whilst he was performing. Typical! Your breathing was heavy as you squeezed your eyes shut holding your tummy, you felt weak and dizzy and terrified you didn’t know what the hell to do.

The stage manager continued to try and get Harry’s attention but he was dancing and talking to the fans, the stage manager however was quick to radio over to the people who controlled the music the music fairly quickly shutting off as Harry looked around confused his eyes soon landing on the stage manager who was quite honestly freaking out, Harry’s phone in hand as Harry put two and two together “one second everyone I’ll be back” he spoke into the microphone trying to not alert anyone to something being wrong before he ran off stage quickly taking the phone from him as he put it up to his ear “y/n?” He asked taking his ear piece out of his ear as he stuck his finger into his ear blocking out the screaming fans so he could hear you better “h-harry my waters broke… I-I need help” and at your words and quivering voice his heart dropped, the rest of his band quickly leaving the stage too to see what was the matter “I’m going to be home soon, Mitch I need you to get onto the phone with 999- call an ambulance right away.” Harry shot demands at his friends, telling them exactly what to do as he immediately went into protective mode.

-

You tried to remain calm as you gripped onto your tummy breathing heavy “I’m nearly home.” Harry said, he had stayed on the line with you the entire time and after a few more minutes the sound of car keys jingling were heard before the front door was pushed open “c’mere we’re going to the hospital what do you need?” He asked calmly and you let out a shaky breath “I-I don’t know…” you whimpered out and Harry knew you needed him to help and so he did, easily and quickly packing a hospital bag for you before he helped you out of the house and into his car “I-I- the baby’s gonna come… I- I cant…” you whimpered out and Harry hushed you gently strapping the seatbelt over you knowing it would be uncomfortable but he wanted you to be safe “look at me…” his hands gently cupped your face making you look at him “you can. You can do this.” He then pressed a kiss to your forehead before making his way round to the drivers seat getting in as he was immediately quick to start driving, he made sure to drive as safely as possible but he was in a mad rush to get you to the hospital so did risk running a few red lights. But he had to. He hadn’t experienced this before so was worried for your health and the baby’s health.

Everything flew by in a blur for you, first you were in a car now you were laying down on a hospital bed Harry to your left and doctors and nurses to your right, the doctors voices were muffled due to your pounding head and Harry lightly grabbed onto your hand “here… I’m here… right here.” He said softly giving your hand a squeeze, Harry’s eyes were on the doctors and nurses but every so often he would look down at you and press kisses to the back of your hand “give her some gas and air… she’ll be ready to push fairly soon.” The main doctor spoke as nurses immediately helped you- placing the oxygen tube into your mouth so you could breathe- apparently it was laughing gas but you sure as hell didn’t feel like laughing. If anything it made you feel sick.

A soft cry soon left your lips your eyes screwing shut the agony tearing throughout you being absolutely horrible, Harry hated seeing you like this… but this was raw natural birth for you. He squeezed your hand tightly “you’re doing so well honey… you’re okay.” He soothed as best as he could gently pushing a few hairs from off of your forehead as little grunts of pain continued leaving your lips, each contraction hitting you harder than the one prior. “Keep breathing in and out-“ “I am breathing!” You exclaimed and Harry bit down on his lip, looking at a few of the nurses whom had seemingly had patients like you before and Harry although a tad bit amused was quick to go back to comforting you gripping onto your hand tightly your grip on his hand making your fingertips turn white as you panted heavily, you pushed hard a slight groan leaving your lips as you fell back into the comfort of the hospital bed tears of frustration and pain trailing down your cheeks “I-I can’t do this…. I can’t Harry.. I-I cant..” you whimpered out looking at him fearfully the nurses around you quickly assuring you that you could as Harry stroked your cheek wiping away your tears “yes you can darling. You can do this… you’re so close… he’s nearly out. I promise. Just a few more pushes c’mon. Deep breath and then push as hard as you can” he said copying what the nurses had said prior trying to help you as he felt helpless. He hated seeing you in such agony.

You nodded before taking a deep breath as you squeezed your eyes shut pushing hard. Incredibly hard. Before a sudden relief surrounded you sudden cries from a baby were heard… your baby… tears sprung to your eyes as Harry looked at you eyes full of warmth and love and even some tears as well “you did it… you did it. You did so well.” He said pressing a kiss to your forehead as you closed your eyes tiredly a weak smile forming on your lips…. The pain was worth it. Soon enough your baby boy was rushed into your arms his tiny face was beautiful he had Harry’s nose and had your eyes, he looked exactly like you and Harry. A spitting image practically. “He’s perfect” Harry whispered to you and you smiled looking into his eyes with a lot of happiness, the nurses were fairly quick to leave to give you and Harry alone time but one left a little teddy for the baby something they apparently did for all newborns- the teddy was small and had a little stuffed bow and arrow attached to its paws and you couldn’t help but smile as you looked into Harry’s eyes “Archie styles” you whispered out to Harry watching as his eyes practically lit up “even more perfect” he whispered kissing your shoulder and you smiled looking down at baby Archie your eyes full of nothing but love for the little boy.

-

Tiredness soon overcame you and Harry was more than willing to take the little boy from you “rest up my love,” he soothed and you obliged exhausted and Harry took Archie into his arms the small boy snuggling into his arms as Harry sat down looking down at him “you’re such a small thing yet caused your mummy so much pain, hm.” He smiled before letting out a soft chuckle his eyes filling with tears as he looked down at the newborn before he looked to you watching your peace as you slept and he smiled pulling Archie closer to him… this is all Harry ever truly wanted… a family of his own and finally he had it. Now he could spend time with his family… his girl… his little boy… the people who would soon become his favourite people ever. His family.

#harry styles comfort #x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry edward styles #harry styles #yn #comfort #imagines #stories #pregnant reader #part two #baby #cute #harry styles x pregnant!reader #dad!harry #father #newborn #unplanned pregnancy #baby shower #dad harry styles #happy ending #strangers to lovers #friends to lovers #lovers #cute asf

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Moment's Silence

02/03/2023

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,699

Warnings: rpf, language, oral (m receiving), mentions of future sexy times

Summary: Tired and overworked, Andrew has promised not to stay up all night again. When he still does, there is only one cure to ease his mind.

A/N: What is there to say? That song really is rather inspiring...

Picture by kirklai via Unsplash (edited)

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

She awoke with a shiver. Instead of his arms, she was wrapped in darkness. The gentle sound of his soft breathing substituted with the whooshing of heavy rain. She didn’t need any light to confirm that the bed beside her was empty, but to find that it hadn’t been touched tonight at all startled her a little.

It wasn’t unusual for him to work at this hour and then sleep through most of the day, but he had promised to go to bed earlier tonight, and Andrew was the kind of person who valued a promise.

She couldn’t deny that his recklessness angered her a little, maybe even more than the broken promise. He had looked so tired and worn already, still over the past days he had dedicated even more hours to his work, hiding himself away in his studio until—as she feared—he would hit the point of complete exhaustion.

With a huff she pushed the blanket off of herself and a silent curse escaped her lips as the cold night air hit her bare legs. This was insufferable, she thought, as she tiptoed her way through the nightly house, wave after wave of goosebumps rolling over her body.

She had almost made it, only a few more steps to the studio, when the soft sound of his guitar suddenly reached her ears. From far away, it seemed, hearing how faint it was, and from the other end of the house.

Her forehead wrinkling in astonishment, she turned around to follow the tune. It lead her straight to the living room where the sheen of dim light that fell through the door gave her the second clue to his whereabouts.

Gently she laid her hand against the wood and pushed it open, slowly, quietly, even though she felt more like storming inside like an angry mob. But she reminded herself that she wanted to have a stern word with him, not scare him to death.

He was sitting on the sofa, guitar in his lap, strumming away while humming a sweet melody. She loved when he did that. There was something magic about the soft vibrations that rose from his throat, something so soothing that her anger washed away in an instant. Even more so when he noticed her and a pair of tired eyes found her still standing in the doorway. The hint of a smile curled his lips, just a bit, but the affection it held was clear to see. But then, together with the music, it fell away and guilt washed over his face.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

His voice was tender and genuine, enough to silence even the last remains of her anger.

“You didn’t. Technically, it was more of your absence that woke me.”

The pained expression on his face told her that didn’t make a difference to him. He had disrupted her sleep by breaking his promise and it bothered him.

“Andrew, what are you doing still up this late? You’re already running on empty.”

“I know, I just can’t wrap my head around…”

He halted mid-sentence as he watched her walk over to him.

“And you won’t tonight. Not with how drained you are.”

She wasn’t met with any resistance as she took the guitar out of his hands and sat it down on the ground. With the instrument out of the way, she didn’t hesitate to take its place and straddle his lap. Loving hands welcomed her, gliding along her exposed thighs with a contented hum. Further and further they ventured, disappearing underneath the hem of her sleeping shirt, travelling across her hips until they found their final resting place on her behind.

He smiled up at her, obviously very pleased with his trove, and there was no way she could resist the lure of his enticing lips any longer. They were as soft as ever, moving unhurriedly with hers, and she could feel the first signs that he finally began to relax.

Not enough though. If she were to ask him to come to bed with her now, he would still decline. She knew him long enough to know that it would need more to make him see reason and tear him away from his beloved music for a few hours.

And so her lips left his, her body gliding through his hands on her way down until her knees met the ground between his feet. Eager fingers went to work immediately, unbuttoning his jeans and slowly pulling down the zipper while her gaze held his.

“What are you doing, love?”

“Helping you relax, Andrew,” she breathed against his stomach before her lips pressed to the small line of hair that vanished underneath the hem of his pants. Carefully she freed him, pulling his clothes all the way down into a pool around his ankles. He moaned, his eyes falling closed for a moment as her hands eased up his legs again. First over his calves, enjoying the flex of his muscles underneath his fuzzy skin, then even slower along his thighs. She could see him twitch in anticipation the closer her fingers got, already growing, hardening under her avid gaze.

A sigh broke from his lips when her mouth found the inside of his thigh, kissing its way up the length of it at a torturously tardy pace. She could feel his eyes on her long before she decided to abandon his silky skin and wasn’t surprised in the least to find them begging her silently to end his anguish.

She had never been able to resist the mossy green of his eyes, and so she yielded. Warm fingers wrapped around his half-hardened erection, stroking, pumping until it had reached its full size. The sight made her mouth water and even if she had wanted to make him wait a little longer, she couldn’t. Lips opening to welcome him inside, her head dove down into his lap.

She hummed the second she could feel him on her tongue, hard and heavy, the familiar taste sending a rush of desire through her whole body. Warmth flooded her core, her hunger for him doubling the second his response invaded her ears.

He sighed her name, so shaky and needy, turning into a hiss as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked him in deeper. With a thud his back hit the soft cushions behind him while his face vanished behind his hands. But just like she couldn’t resist bringing him more pleasure, it seemed he couldn’t resist the view in front of him, and so his hands fell away and he watched in awe how her tongue swirled around him, licking up his shaft, gliding over the tip before it retreated and her lips wrapped around him once more.

She took him in deep this time, a harsh curse breaking the silence as he hit the back of her throat. With a pop she pulled away, gasping for air before she repeated the ritual, then again, and again, and again.

“Baby, please. I—”

He groaned as her free hand found his balls, cupping them, slowly kneading the sensitive area. All the while she kept on pleasuring him, her hand stroking up and down his cock, taking turns with her mouth that sucked him in, tongue hitting his tip every now and then as an extra treat.

It wasn’t long before she could feel him tighten in her hand, just a little at first, but then more and more with every stroke. His sounds of passion grew louder as well, the perfect litany of sweet hums and sighs mixed with lewd curses, an enchanting song he only ever sang for her.

It crescendoed in a beautiful, drawn-out moan and she answered with the same sound of appreciation when he started to pulse on her tongue. She took everything he gave her, savouring each thick drop until the tension finally left his body and his song ebbed away.

Slender fingers cupped her cheeks, still a bit shaky, but drawing her attention nonetheless. He was just looking at her with a placid smile, watching as she released him from her mouth. His mouth fell open a little, just like hers when his thumb found her bottom lip in a gentle caress.

“Come here,” he whispered and it didn’t escape her attention how wonderfully low the tone of his voice had become. Low and honeyed, a bit hoarse as well, and that was all her doing, her triumph.

He helped her up, his hands finding her face again the second she had taken her former position on his lap to pull her in for a deep kiss. He moved slowly, devouring her properly. Her reward for being so good to him. But hidden beneath all his love and affection, she could taste the weariness on his tongue.

Still, despite the adamant claim of his body, he tenderly whispered against her lips, “Let me return the favour.”

Oh how she would have loved to give in, to feel that strong muscle pressed against her needy sex, feasting on her until every last thought was cleared from her mind and all that remained was pure, calming nothingness. But one look into those overtired orbs of green was enough to remind her what she had to do. Why she had left her bed and come down here in the first place.

“Not now, my love. What you need right now is sleep.”

He scrunched his nose, clearly displeased with her answer. She of all people knew that he liked his woman satisfied, blissed out and spent before she fell asleep in his arms. But not tonight.

“You know, there’s always tomorrow. And I sure wouldn’t mind waking up to the sight of your gorgeous face between my thighs.”

Her lips pressed to his forehead in a tender kiss and when she drew away, she found the most beautiful smile on his lips.

“You’re right, love. Let’s head to bed.” He sat up, still he refused to loosen his embrace just yet. Instead he leaned in until she could feel his lips softly brush against her ear. “Sunrise can’t come soon enough.”

#hozier x reader #hozier #hozier fanfiction #hozier imagine #hozier fic #hozier fanfic #andrew hozier byrne #moment's silence