#only one more prompt piece left! 💜

[animaxvi]

"So let's meet beneath the same sky and blaze of stars, sunrise or sunset" ☀️☁️🌙

Day 6 - 'twilight | daybreak'

#kingdom hearts #soriku #soriku week 2023 #artists on tumblr #illustration #kh riku #kh sora #i tried my best to blend the two themes together so I merged the time's of day daybreak/twilight #i think i really love rendering clouds even more now loll its a lot of fun #only one more prompt piece left! 💜 #i also tried to match sora and riku's og clothing colors to the royal outfits i gave them with their personalities/backstories in mind

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Could you do an imagine with Steve rogers and yn where he takes her virginity smooth talk to her into it and she comes to shield quarters to drop off some stuff he left over and she over hears him talking to tony,Buck & the avengers a both the bet they made that Steve couldn’t f*ck yn and she gets heartbroken and uses her superpowers to fight against Steve when she barges in. Like throw him into a wall. I hope you get my concept (btw yn has powers also & she’s new to the shield inc as an avenger)

Betrayed

PAIRING | Steve Rogers x Avenger!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.7K

SUMMARY | You're the latest addition to the Avengers, and Steve takes on a bet behind your back that he wouldn't be able to take your virginity. When you find out about the bet a few weeks later, you lose it and your superpowers rise to their full potential.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Steve being an asshole, swearing, smut [ loss of virginity, fingering, protected sex, massage turned to sex, light spanking ]

A/N | Hi nonnie, thank you so much for my very first request, I hope this is what you were looking for when you thought of the prompt! After all the love and many people requesting a part 2, I finally caved and you can find that right here! 🖤

Likes and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist

It has been a dream of yours ever since being recruited by SHIELD as an agent, to climb the ranks to becoming part of the Avengers. That dream finally became a reality and you were ecstatic when you found out you were accepted into the Avengers program. Right from the start all of the Avengers welcomed you with open arms, and you felt at home immediately, maybe a bit too much if you look back at it. During one of Tony's afterparties, you accidentally let it slip that you're still a virgin and that you wish you weren't anymore. There are some strange looks shared between some of the guys at your confession, but you decided to let it go at that time. Right now, however, you wish you hadn't.

After you went to bed that night, some of the guys got into a heated discussion about the fact that you're a virgin, and they all wanted to help you out. You know you're quite attractive - nothing over the top, but you take good care of yourself and it shows - so the fact that they all wanted to sleep with you wasn't much of a surprise. The fact that it was Steve who offered to do it first, did surprise every single one of the guys. ''No way you're taking her virginity, Cap. You have the sex appeal of a piece of grass,'' Clint remarked, which earned him a glare that wasn't all that nice. ''I think we should make a bet,'' Steve said, a mischievous look in his eyes.

''I want to make a bet if I can do it or not. If I win, I won't have to go on missions for a month. If you guys win, I will take one mission of your hands of your choice, each,'' Steve offered and they immediately agreed to these terms. And that is how Steve tried to talk you into his bed, which took more effort than he had anticipated, you weren't as easy as you made yourself sound that night. It took him a little over 5 months, but eventually, his hard work and patience paid off, for him at least.

~ 5 months later ~

You just went on a gruesome mission with all of the Avengers, and it was already late so instead of flying home now, all of you went to a hotel and spend the night. You had been incredibly frustrated for a while, and this mission was too much at this point. The mission ended up being successful, but Steve was being an asshole towards you the entire time, all to get under your skin for his gain, with the bet still in his mind. All the other Avengers quickly teamed up with the rooms, so your only option was to share a room with Steve, and you weren't happy with that. In the slightest.

''Guys, can any one of you please switch with me? I can't look at his face right now and I want to smack that smug grin of his fucking face,'' you say through gritted teeth, but they aren't helping one bit. ''Sorry doll, we always have the same sleeping arrangements and Steve usually sleeps alone, so you don't have a choice,'' Bucky said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. ''You guys are unbelievable,'' you said and you opened the door to your shared bedroom, rushing in to get away from all of them.

''Don't mind them,'' Steve said when he followed you and you let yourself fall on your back on the bed. ''Maybe it's a good thing you and I are sharing a bedroom tonight, I had a plan to get both of our frustrations out of our systems,'' Steve said with an innocent look in his eyes. ''You do...?'' you ask him, unsure where he's going with this. ''Yeah, I find that a massage works well, get someone to rub all my frustrations away. I brought some massage oil that I could use on you if you want,'' he offered, and you were thinking about it. ''I'm gonna take a shower first though, I don't want to be disgusting when you massage me,'' you said.

When you were in the shower, Steve texted the guys' group chat that his plan would work, you agreed to a massage and he would most definitely be able to turn it around so he could fuck your brains out later that night. When you came back from your shower, you put your hair in a claw clip so it would be out of the way, and you noticed Steve already prepared his bed to be used as the massage 'table'. ''Please, lay down without the towel so I can reach your entire back with ease,'' he said with a small grin on his face, but you did it. You needed a way to get this frustration out of your body, and it was worth a shot. ''Lay down for me, baby,'' he said and you didn't even think twice about the nickname he gave you.

You did as he said and made yourself comfortable. ''No towel baby, that was it's easier for me to reach everywhere,'' Steve said and because you're lying on your stomach, you can't see the smug look he has on his face. He took the towel away and softly gasped at the sight of you, you were even more beautiful than he thought you'd be and he was very happy he got to do this. He put a little bit of the massage oil on your back and his hands before he started, rubbing it all over your shoulders and back first, just grazing your cheeks when he's rubbing it over your lower back, teasing you ever so slightly. After it's nice and spread out he starts putting some pressure and you let out a soft moan at the feeling.

''Mmh Steve, feels good,'' you softly moan and he smiles at the way you praise him, happy he can make you feel that good. ''Are you feeling better yet, baby?'' he asked and you nodded, letting out a content sigh. The fact that you're completely naked is long forgotten, you were very comfortable around Steve now with his hands running over your body like that. ''Got some more pressure points in my lower back you could massage,'' you tell him, it's always been a point that's bothering you and now that he was massaging you, it was the perfect timing to get help. ''Like this?'' he said as he put a bit more pressure on your lower back with his palms, moving from your spine outwards and down to your hips. This makes you groan, and in all honesty, a little turned on too.

When he's taken good care of your shoulders and back, he moves on to your calves and thighs. ''Time for these beautiful legs,'' he says as he silently takes off his shirt and pants, they were getting more and more uncomfortable now that he was getting pretty hard from just massaging you. He was standing in his boxer briefs and you didn't notice, completely taken over by pure bliss. He dripped a little oil on both your legs, stopping right beneath your cheeks and he put it to the side, ready for later. He started massaging at your ankles and slowly work his way up to your thighs, giving special attention to the tops, near your ass. His fingers slowly move up and when he's kneading and rubbing your ass, you let out a gasp which turns into a moan.

''S-Steve...'' you say but he quickly cuts you off, ''Shh, it's okay baby, this is normal,'' he says and he starts kneading more roughly, even going as far as landing a slap on both your cheeks at the same time, watching them ripple under his hands. ''Fuck, doing so good for me, baby,'' Steve praised you and you couldn't help but enjoy it, even though you knew in the back of your head it was still wrong. It was at that moment Steve couldn't take it any longer, and his hand wandered down between your thighs, cupping your dripping pussy. ''Hm, you're already dripping wet baby, 'm gonna take good care of you,'' he says as he slowly slides his fingers through your folds, giving special attention to your clit with his middle finger. You moan loudly at the feeling, your ass automatically lifting in the air at the feeling.

''Such a good girl for me right now, letting me take good care of you,'' he praised you and you started clenching around nothing. ''Steve, please,'' you whimpered, you wanted to feel his fingers inside you by now. ''What is it, baby? What do you need from me? Just say it and I'll do it,'' he says, whispering the words in your ear as he pushes your thighs further apart for better access. ''Need you, need your fingers inside me,'' you said shyly and he happily complied, immediately shoving 2 fingers deep inside your dripping entrance without warning. This makes you gasp loudly and grind your hips against his hand. ''How does it feel baby?'' Steve asks with a huge grin on his face while picking up his pace and curling his fingers so he can continue to stimulate your sweet spot.

''G-good, gonna cum,'' you moan as you keep grinding against his fingers. He uses his other hand to play some more with your clit and before you know it, you feel your orgasm wash over you while you moan out his name loudly. ''Yes, let everyone know who's making you feel this good baby,'' he said, knowing full well all the guys could hear what you were doing through the tins walls of the hotel. ''Fuck, feels so good,'' you say as you come down from your high. Steve pulls his fingers softly out of you before turning you over on your back, so he could massage the front of your body. He started with your legs, giving them the same treatment as when he massaged the back of your legs, but avoiding your sensitive pussy this time.

Next up is your stomach, which he drips some oil onto before massaging it deeply, so you let out soft whimpers, especially when his hands' ghost over the underside of your breasts, which were beautifully exposed for his viewing pleasure, your nipples still hard after your first orgasm. ''Those breasts look delicious baby,'' Steve cooed and it made you giggle a little bit before he softly grabbed them and massaged them, giving extra attention to your sensitive nipples. He noticed every single whine, whimper, and moan coming out of you when he played with them, either by rubbing, tugging, or softly flicking them, and he was reveling in the sounds that left your lips.

He finished with your upper chest and neck before leaning down and softly kissing you, which you have been longing for this entire time. He wasn't your first kiss, but he was by far the best you ever had, and you didn't hesitate when he slipped his soft, warm tongue in your mouth to explore every single inch of it. He sat down on the bed and removed his underwear, exposing his painfully hard cock, which was laying on your thigh as he took his place between your legs. ''Steve, condom please,'' you said. You were on birth control and this was your first time, but you weren't sure where he had been and didn't want to risk either getting pregnant or an STD, but Steve didn't mind, he always used one anyways.

He grabbed one from the nightstand - thank god he came prepared - and ripped open the foil before rolling it onto his hard length. ''Are you ready baby?'' he asked and you said yes, giving him a soft smile too. ''Need you inside me,'' you said and without a second to think about it, Steve was pushing himself into your entrance, the burning sensation quickly subsiding and making way for pleasure. He is very big and a lot to get used to, but in no time he was buried inside you completely, letting you get used to the sensation as he bent over, stealing soft kisses from your lips. ''Steve, please move,'' you beg softly and he does, going slow at first but slowly picking up the pace, making you moan louder every single time.

Sure, he may be doing this for a bet, but he was still mindful of the fact that this is your very first time, and he did want to give you the pleasure you deserve, and not go too rough at first. ''Steve, harder'' you beg, and with that, he quickly picks up the pace as you wrap your legs around his waist, so he can hit the deepest spots inside you. ''F-fuck, Steve, gonna cum-'' you practically yelled when your orgasm washed over you again, making your vision go temporarily black with the intensity of it, Steve followed quickly after with the chant of your name, and he buries his face in your neck as he spills his cum inside of the condom. ''Fuck, feels so good around me baby, such a good girl for me,'' he says before pulling out. The rest of the night is spent lazily making out and cuddling, before falling asleep in each other's arms.

~ 3 weeks after the mission ~

You and Steve talked about what happened that night and both agreed nothing more would come of it, it was just a one-time thing to get both your frustrations out and you would remain friends. He talked to the guys about it and they all heard, clapping him on his back and saying he won the bet fair and square, so they would pick up his missions for the next month. ''How was it?'' Tony asked and he told them all about the massage and how it felt to be buried balls deep inside you. They were still talking about the bet when you happened to walk into the room since you accidentally left some files in the living room you needed to prepare.

''Good job Steve, you won the bet fair and square, I didn't think you would fuck her but you earned it'' Bucky said as he got up, and immediately you realize they're talking about you. ''What bet are you guys talking about?'' you ask, and all the guys' heads snap in your direction. ''Y/N, hey...'' Steve said, his face becoming bright red. ''Did you guys seriously bet on if he was able to fuck me? You guys are fucking unbelievable,'' you snarled at each of them, but you're the most mad at Steve. ''You're such a dick, Steve, you know that?'' you yelled at him and you felt your powers come out, usually you tried to keep them hidden since they could cause quite a lot of destruction. ''Using me for a fucking bet?!'' is the last thing you said before you lifted Steve off his chair with your mind, using your telekinesis.

You slam him into the wall on the other side of the living room with your full force, making him go through it like the wall was made of a thin sheet of paper. ''Don't ever fuck with me like that again, or he won't be the only one on the receiving end of my powers,'' you say to the rest of the guys, and they quickly scramble away. To make Steve hurt even more, you walked over to him and made him squirm by giving him a head-splitting headache with your mind, as he grabbed his head to stop it. ''Y/N PLEASE STOP!'' he begged you, but you didn't. You want him to hurt just as much as you were. ''Oh no Rogers, you don't get to beg now, you earned everything I'm going to do with you,” Your power got out of hand and when Wanda walked into the living room, she managed to snap you out of it at the right time, if she didn't you would've killed him.

And just like that, your dream of becoming an Avenger is completely shattered.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #captain america #steve rogers smut #captain america smut

[halfmoth-halfman]

forever is mine with you

Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x F!Reader Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: cheating (reader gets cheated on) & fluff Prompt: Neighbors Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: we've got more gaz for @glitterypirateduck’s GazFest 2023 💜

January

Kyle's new neighbor moves in the day after New Year's.

He hadn’t even known his old neighbor had moved out, so rare was it that he spent time at home. He sees the moving van just as he’s returning from his morning run, slowing to a curious pace as he passes by to get into the apartment building. The van doors are wide open, revealing a few larger boxes and a long, black couch, but there’s no one around. 

He knows this area is safe, that there’s very little chance of someone making off with any of the boxes–and no chance of someone getting away with the couch–but he’s a worrier at heart. So, he hovers near the entrance, pretending to be occupied on his phone while keeping an eye on the van through the large glass windows of the building.  

His breath hitches in his throat the second you step into the lobby. You look positively exhausted, dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and leggings with stray pieces of your tied-up hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. Deep bags run under your eyes as you blink away sleep and what Kyle suspects is remnants of a New Year’s well-spent. Despite your tired appearance, there’s a wide smile spread across your face that has his heart skipping a beat as you head out to the van and start pulling out another box. 

The box could be heavy, Kyle thinks, watching you slide it across the floor of the van. It would be rude not to offer help. 

He gets two steps toward the door when someone rushes past him, and a man hurries to the van to lift the box from your hands. You stick your tongue out at him and lean over the box to give him a quick kiss before you disappear into the van again. Kyle decides to wait to introduce himself and, with one last look at your grinning face, turns to head back to his flat.

February

He doesn’t see you again for a month. 

It’s not that he didn’t want to properly introduce himself, he just never had the chance. It seemed the two of you were operating on different schedules, only catching small glimpses of each other like ships passing in the night. 

He has one week of leave left, and Kyle intends to make every second worth it. He spends the day outside, enjoying the fresh air and treating himself to his favorite takeout. He’s reluctant to return to his flat, but the moment he steps onto his floor he can’t seem to remember why. 

All of his thoughts go straight to you, and the way you’re standing outside of your door looking like something straight out of his dreams. 

Not that he would ever admit to dreaming of you, of course.

You’re all dressed up, more beautiful than anyone Kyle has ever seen. Hair done and decorated with tiny pearls to match the string of pearls around your neck, makeup flawless right down to the velvet red painted on your lips, he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. It’s the dress that does him in. All crimson silk as it clings to every curve of your body, a slit in the leg that is so sinfully high. 

You must feel him staring because you turn your head and meet his eyes with shocking quickness. Kyle composes himself, not wanting to be labeled as the creepy neighbor, and gives a wave with a polite, friendly smile. You smile back, almost bashful, as you shift on your feet. 

Say something, he scolds himself, don’t just stare.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks once he’s managed to find his voice. You raise a brow, something like amusement crossing your face. 

“Valentine’s Day?” you laugh softly with a tilt of your head. 

Right. It was the 14th, wasn’t it? It’d been so long since he’d celebrated–or had someone to celebrate with–Kyle had stopped thinking about the holiday. 

“Fun plans, then?” he says, nodding to your dress and trying his hardest not to stare at the way your pearl necklace dips into the deep neckline. 

You shrug, and there’s a quick, nervous glance back to your door, “Not sure, yet. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Your smile falls just a bit before you overcompensate and replace it with an even bigger one, but Kyle–too observant for his own good–sees right through you.

“Not a fan of surprises?” Kyle asks before he can stop himself. 

“I–”

Your door opens, and Kyle notices the way you jump at the noise. He keeps the smile on his face, but he can feel his jaw tensing as your boyfriend steps out in his crisp black suit and red tie. He ignores Kyle altogether, sliding a hand around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. The two of you exchange quiet words before he begins to guide you toward the lift. 

You glance over your shoulder, giving Kyle a quick smile. You turn away before he has time to smile back, and Kyle resigns himself to a night alone. 

April

He’s gone for a month, but he thinks about you every day. 

He tells himself it’s curiosity, that there’s nothing wrong with wanting to get to know the new person living next to him. It’s all purely platonic. 

He knows he’s lying. 

When he finally returns home, after a draining month of blood and dry sand, he finds himself hoping to see you.

He doesn’t, not for a few days anyway. You don’t appear until he’s coming back from his morning run. He’s walking into the lobby, too busy looking at his phone, just as you’re walking out, too focused on the drink in your hand. 

You collide with him, falling into a tangle of limbs and hot coffee. There’s a flurry of apologies from both ends, only worsening when Kyle notices the coffee stain on your cream sweater. You shrug it off, telling him you weren’t going anywhere important anyway, but the guilt is still there. 

He knows he should make it up to you, so he does the only thing he can think of.

He offers to bring you up to his place and take one of his sweaters while he cleans yours.

Your face drops into an expression of shock, and worry courses through him, but you shake yourself out of your daze and, surprisingly, you agree. 

He tries to ignore the hammering of his heart as he leads you up to his flat. You don’t seem bothered, perhaps a little too trusting, following him inside without comment. 

The first thing you do is compliment his home, and Kyle feels shyness creeping up his spine. He points you to his bedroom, telling you to pick anything you want while he waits in the kitchen. He makes himself a cup of tea, trying to soothe the nerves building up in his chest. 

This isn’t how he expected his day to go, but he’s not complaining. Not when you’re feet away in his bedroom, looking through his closet so you can wear one of his shirts. 

She has a boyfriend, you idiot. Stop it. 

No matter how much he bullies himself, Kyle can’t find it in him to care.

“Military, huh?”

Kyle looks up, ready to give some snarky retort, but he sees you wearing that worn grey sweater with his last name faded across the back and his mind stops working. 

You stare at him expectantly, clearing your throat as you hold out your ruined sweater. “You alright?”

Kyle snaps out of it, taking the sweater with a sheepish smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” 

He most certainly is not fine and is quick to distract himself by setting your sweater on the counter as he fills a bowl with warm water from the tap. You take a seat at the counter, watching him mix vinegar and dish-washing detergent together with an adorable curiosity. 

“I had a cousin in the military,” you speak, leaning your elbows on the counter. 

Kyle chuckles, taking a rag and soaking it in the bowl. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “He never had any interesting stories, though.”

Kyle glances up at you, right in time to catch you looking at him with a sly, curious smile on your face.

“I take it you think I do?” he asks, smirk pulling at his lips as he dabs at the coffee stain on your sweater with the damp rag. 

“Do you?” You lean forward slightly, eager interest laced in your voice.

If you were anyone else he would say no, shut down the conversation before it could even begin. But you’re not anyone else, and all it takes is one look at those eyes for him to give in. 

He keeps things vague and harmless, enough to be interesting for you without revealing any important information or going into gory detail, and you hang on to every word with a refreshing fascination. You ask thoughtful questions, laugh at his cheesy jokes, and listen with an intensity he’s rarely seen, even on base. 

You urge him to continue once he’s done, pressing for more, and he’s all too happy to oblige. 

You spend the entire day with him, moving from the kitchen to the living room once your sweater is coffee-free. You don’t bother changing out of Kyle’s, far too interested in what he’s saying to consider even a few minutes of distraction. 

When the conversation shifts to lighter subjects, neither of you seems to mind. In fact, Kyle offers to make lunch, and you agree with a speed that has both of you laughing.  

You’re so easy to talk to, Kyle finds. He would talk to you forever if you allowed it, and he hopes you feel the same. He thinks you do, judging by the way you ignore your phone every time it chimes in favor of continuing your conversation.

Eventually, the sun begins to sink behind the horizon and your phone starts ringing. You roll your eyes, answering with a calm voice despite the way your shoulders tense. 

The conversation is short, and you hang up with a huff. 

“I should probably get going,” you sigh, offering him an apologetic smile. 

“It’s alright,” Kyle shrugs, an easy smile tugging at his mouth. “It’s not like you don’t live right next door.” 

You excuse yourself to change back into your sweater and bid him goodbye with a sweet smile that almost has him begging for you to stay. 

He finds his sweater folded up on the end of his bed, and his heart aches at the lingering scent of your perfume.

August

In the following months, you and Kyle become close friends.

Almost as close as he and Soap, which is saying something.

When he has to leave again, he lets you know, and you surprise him with a care package of homemade cookies and a letter the day before he leaves. You say it’s from you and your boyfriend, but you both know it isn’t; the man has actively ignored Kyle despite your best efforts to introduce them. 

Soap eats most of the cookies, but Kyle doesn’t mind, too enamored with your letter. Your letter is as cute as you are, well wishes for him to come home safe, and carrying the soft scent of your perfume. He reads it almost every night, and Soap has no problem making fun of him for it. 

“Some friend, ye got there,” Soap laughs. “Sure that’s all it is?”

Kyle knows what he should say. 

She’s seeing someone else. We’re just friends.

But Soap gives him that knowing look, and Kyle knows he can’t continue to lie to himself. 

It’s not like you’re happy with him. He’s heard you and your boyfriend fighting through the walls–voices raised, but not quite yelling–and he sees the irritation that causes you to tense when he calls or texts. You don’t smile the same when you’re with him, not like the happy carefree grin you give Kyle.

When the mission is finally finished, and Kyle is granted permission to go home, he’s made up his mind. He’s going to tell you how he feels, and let you decide where to go from there. 

Or that was the plan until he knocks on your door and you answer with red eyes, obviously swollen from crying. 

You don’t give him a chance to ask what’s wrong, throwing yourself into his arms as you sob into his chest. He guides you into your entryway, closing the door behind him with his boot. He calms and soothes you, cooing soft words and light kisses of comfort into your hair as he runs his hands up and down your back. 

He lets you cry as long as you need to, and it takes almost an hour for you to calm down enough to tell him what’s happened.

You had come home from work two days ago to find your boyfriend with another woman in your bed. He used the excuse that you had Kyle, so it was only fair that he got to get some for himself too. You had screamed and yelled and raged, throwing him out that same day as he spewed obscenities at you.

The crying starts again, and Kyle is quick to calm you, assuring you that everything’s going to be alright. 

“Didn’t need him anyway,” he huffs.

“Yeah, fuck him,” you pout, and Kyle agrees wholeheartedly.

The wallowing takes its toll on you, cries shifting to a long yawn as your eyes begin to droop. You lean your head on his shoulder, body sagging against the solid weight of him. Kyle urges you to get some sleep, offering to take the couch if you need him there. 

“No,” you mumble. “I can’t sleep here. Not in that bed.”

If he were a better man, he’d suggest the couch while he slept on the floor. 

Instead, he leads you next door, straight to his bed, where he helps tuck you in. Your eyes shut the moment your head hits the pillow, and something tugs at his heat when you subconsciously curl into his blankets. 

He turns to leave and let you have your much-needed rest, but the moment he does, your hand reaches out and wraps around his. You blink at him, eyes wide and sad, and whisper into the room, “Stay.”

And in that moment, Kyle knows he’ll never be able to deny you anything.

December

Kyle insists on taking time for yourself and letting you properly heal before jumping right into things with him. 

He’s frustratingly right, and you appreciate his concern for you, but that doesn’t change how much you feel for him. 

Your now ex-boyfriend had been right to an extent; you certainly felt things for Kyle you hadn’t felt for him in a long time. Of course, you never acted on those feelings–unlike him–staying close to Kyle while keeping things platonic. 

You’d seen it coming for a while, if you were honest with yourself. The new place was a temporary fix, a flimsy band-aid slapped over an ever-growing crack in the glass of an aquarium. You knew you deserved better than his dependency and weaponized incompetence.

You knew the flood was imminent, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.  

But now he’s gone, and while you know you need time to recover, it’s hard to concentrate when Kyle hands you a key to his flat and tells you you’re welcome anytime. 

You try to tell him you’re fine, that the ending of your relationship had been more like a weight lifting from your shoulders, but he insists you take at least two weeks and one therapy visit before making your decision.

You oblige, and you have to admit he knows what he’s talking about. When the two weeks are up, you tell him you need more time, ignoring the smug grin on his face. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t taunt you with an I told you so, but you can see it in his eyes. He does tell you he’s proud of you, and you ride the high that gives you all the way to your next therapist visit. 

Kyle leaves in the last week of August, letting you spend his last night with him in his bed. He doesn’t make a move on you, simply holding you close while murmuring impossible promises of safety and success to your sleeping form. 

It’s agony waiting for him to return, never knowing what could be happening to him while you’re safe and sound in the comfort of his home. The space is good for you, though. It gives you time to process things, to really talk through your emotions and concerns with your wonderfully patient therapist. 

You’ve barely been in your own home in the past few months, the anxiety and betrayal that stalks the halls too much for you to handle, and she helps you realize that you need to make some changes. 

So, when Kyle returns at the end of November, he finds you in his kitchen, dancing along to a song on your phone as you cook something that smells positively delicious. 

He’s content to watch you, welcoming the sight of you after a long and tedious mission.

It’s something he could get used to coming home to. 

When you finally notice him, it only takes a second for the realization to hit you before you’re leaping into his arms with an excited cheer. Kyle wastes no time, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he can, welcoming your familiar warmth and scent. He tries to lean forward to tuck his face into your neck, but you stop him, placing your hands on his jaw.

He stares at you curiously, watching your eyes dip down to his mouth before you pull him forward to close the gap. A year’s worth of swallowed emotions pour into the kiss, and when you pull away, Kyle chases after you to kiss you again. 

You spend the rest of the night attached to one another. Kyle “helps” you cook, keeping his hands on your hips as he peppers smiling kisses and gentle nips down your neck. You push him away with sweet giggles, but he always comes back seconds later. 

When dinner’s done and eaten, he pulls you to the couch into his lap, so he can continue smothering you in kisses. You meet him kiss for kiss, unable to get enough of him. It takes nearly an hour before you’re able to separate yourself from him to give him your news. 

“I’m not renewing my lease,” you murmur against his kiss-swollen lips, a shy glance up to look him in his beautiful, brown eyes. “Figured I should look for a new place that isn’t littered with memories of that bastard.” 

Kyle hums thoughtfully, trailing kisses along your cheek. “Plenty of room here.”

You click your tongue, laying a hand on his cheek to turn his face to look directly at you. “Kyle–”

“It’s not like that’s not where this was going anyway, right?” He gives you another chaste kiss and a cheeky smile. “You already have a key. Might as well–”

“Make it official?” you laugh. 

“Exactly.” 

You let out a long, exaggerated sigh with a dramatic roll of your eyes. “Fine, you’ve managed to convince me–”

You don’t get to finish, as Kyle cups your jaw and pulls you into another kiss.

January

After a long night of celebrating and congratulations from his teammates, Kyle’s girlfriend officially moves in the day after New Year’s.

#gazfest #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz #mw fics #moth writes #tw: cheating #private

[stayevildarling]

Because you just reblogged those angst prompts and I love angst too, I’d love to read a combination of “please just hold me”, “you look awful” and maybe “is there anything I can do to help?” Between Wilhemina x Reader with the reader comforting wilhemina please?

Wilhemina Venable x Reader - Holding on for dear life

A/N: thank you for requesting this💜 I struggled a little because as a reader I could never tell her she looks awful plus I struggled at first to see Mina ask for this. But in this scenario I can totally see it. I hope you enjoy and thank you for your support @stepintomyworld

tw: mention of scoliosis, cursing, angst, fluff

taglist: @lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay , @whitelotus00 , @ninaahs , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @paulsonsratched , @stepintomyworld , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometime

The sound of your alarm pierces through the dimly lit bedroom, you stir from your slumber, reaching out instinctively for the warmth of your lover beside you, only to find the bed empty. Faintly you remember how she had left the house at 5am this morning, heading to work like she usually does before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and smiling at your sleeping state.

As you walk into the living room, you immediately notice the half-empty bottle of medication, sitting on the coffee table, its presence sending a wave of concern through your veins. Your heart skips a little as you realise that Mina had forgotten to take her medication to work.

Panic bubbles up inside you as you think about the fact that your redhead girlfriend had been quite irritated lately, snapping at things quicker than she usually would and overall seeming more exhausted. As you inspect the bottles closer, you notice that the medication bottle had the wrong doses printed on it. Confused, you make your way over to the bathroom and take a look at Wilhemina's medication cabinet.

Unusual emptiness finds you as it was usually stocked up with different medications for her back, one to help with sleep, some to help with pain. You notice how her usual medication all have the wrong and weaker doses printed on it. Confused, you try putting the pieces together before deciding to take matters into your own hands. Walking over to her office, you make your way around her desk, carefully opening her calendar. It feels wrong to be snooping around in her things but you know the redhead could be stubborn about this and not accepting any help.

As you skip through the last few weeks, you notice her usual scheduled doctors appointment wasn't listed for another week. She must have missed the last one due to an important work meeting, scheduled in the calendar that week. Thinking about it for a second, you aren't sure whether to just ask her about it and offer your help or just sort it out for her, not wanting to invade her privacy but also wanting to take some of the pressure and what you assume to be great pain at this point off.

A little while later, you had decided to help out in fact and are on your way to the pharmacy, picking up her usual prescription. After calling the Dr's you found out that in fact she didn't make her last appointment and therefore only had some of her older and weaker medication left. The receptionist was very hesitant but knowing your name by now, she helped out, considering she knew you from accompanying Mina to her appointments in the past.

It takes about half an hour until you make your way to Kinero Robotics, walking through the familiar hallways until you finally make it to her office. As you stand by the glass door, you can see a glimpse of your girlfriend, sitting at her desk. Typing away on her lilac laptop, you take in her features. Her cane resting against the desk beside her, her hair in a sharp ponytail, her outfit plastered with lilac as per usual.

As you take in her features a little closer, you notice the bags under her eyes, her tight posture and the way her jaw was in a straight line. You could tell she was in pain and uncomfortable and hoping with your gesture you could lift some of the weights off her tired shoulders. Knocking gently, her head instantly lifts, getting ready to throw shooting arrows with her gaze but her features quickly soften as she sees you standing there.

,,Little one?'' she asks, confusion etched on her tired features. Her right hand reaches for her cane but you quickly shake your head, walking over to her instead, before pressing a gentle kiss on her cheek. ,,What are you doing here?'' she asks confused, noticing the little bag in your hand.

,,Mina-'' you start, not sure what to say as you know she may be upset at you for what you are about to say and give to her. Her eyes press shut as another wave of pain ripples through her. Sighing heavily she turns her gaze to you again, the pain reflecting in her brown orbs. ,,You look awful my love'' you whisper, tilting your head with concern.

,,Thank you for that statement, it's nice to see you too'' she snaps a little as she didn't like the belittlement or pitty.

,,I have these for you'' you simply mutter out, handing her the bag before she opens it only to find her medication, the right dosage inside them. Her features are overtaken by confusion and you aren't sure if you can sense a hint of anger in them also. To deescalate the situation, you reach for her lilac Stanley cup that you purchased for her a while ago, noticing how it was almost empty, quickly walking away to fill it up for her.

As you return she sighs and averts your gaze, taking the medication without saying a word. Your girlfriend was a lot of things but not stupid, she knew what you did in order to fit the pieces together and as much as she disapproved of you probably having been through her schedule and great lengths to get these, right now she appreciates it, knowing this should help soothe the pain, at least a little soon.

,,Is there anything I can do to help Mina?'' you ask carefully as her brown eyes meet yours. You aren't sure how she felt at the moment, knowing that her walls are up high either way but you didn't want to leave without having at least done your best to provide her with the same love and care she shows you on a daily basis.

,,No- I think you have done enough'' she replies. The room fills with silence and from her tone and blank face you couldn't tell whether she was upset or grateful. Figuring you did indeed disturb her at work, you give her a weak smile before saying goodbye and exiting her office.

After you leave Wilhemina feels a wave of overwhelming emotions wash over her. She hated this, she had always hated her back, the way it disabled her to do the most normal things in life. The way the pain, not only physically, held her in its grasps, sometimes freezing her. She hated being perceived as weak or not as able as other people, mostly the reason why she appeared so harsh and tough on the outside.

With you it was different though, she never had anyone truly care about her, truly wanting to help ease the pain and not perceiving her as weak or different, as you had often reminded her. Somehow you made all of her insecurities disappear whenever she was with you and she loved and adored you for it. You wouldn't usually fuss either, which she truly appreciated and somehow she is facing a battle of anger over your fuss but deep gratitude that you went through the lengths of getting the mediation, which she couldn't make the time for due to her career and on top of it, coming all the way to her office to bring it to her.

She rubs her temples, slowly feeling the effect of the pain medication soothing her painful and tired muscles. ,,Fuck'' she curses internally for having driven you away like this. As she takes a look at the time and her desk, seeing the amount of work she still had for the day, she quickly resumed with it, hoping if she gets through it all sooner rather than later, she could make some more time for you tonight, hopefully being able to leave the office sooner.

As hours passed, the weight and pain of the last few days presses down on Wilhemina's shoulders, each moment ticking by with agonising slowness. Despite the medication easing the worst of her pain, she couldn't shake the lingering exhaustion that seemed to have clinged to her like a shadow at this point. As she works tirelessly at her desk, her mind keeps wandering back to the imagine of you standing in her office, your concern etched into every line of your face. The guilt gnawed at her insides as she replayed the exchange in her mind, wondering if she had pushed you away too harshly.

The truth is, she was grateful for your help more than she could ever express. But admitting that meant acknowledging her own vulnerability, something she had spent a lifetimes trying to conceal. And as much as she hated to admit it, your presence had stirred something inside her - a longing for connection that she had long buried beneath layers of steel and ice. As the day draws to a close and the office begins to even out, the redhead finds herself torn between a battle of desire to reach out to you, apologise for her harsh words and to thank you for your unwavering support.

With a heavy sigh, she closes her laptop, having finished up her things for the day, gathering her things as she made her mind up. She couldn't let the day end without making things right with you and showing you just how much you mean to her. As she makes her way home, her thoughts are consumed by visions of you, your gentle smile, the warmth of your embrace, the way your presence soothed her tired and troubled soul.

Meanwhile you spent the day tending to various tasks around the house, partly trying to distract yourself and also your thoughts consumed by her. The sight of her forgotten medication had sparked a sense of urgency in you, driving you to take action to ensure her wellbeing. You made sure that Wilhemina could come home to a clean and comfortable home. Making sure the bedding was changed, washing all done and the apartment looking neat and tidy. You prepared a bath for her, her favourite lavender bath salts sitting on the edge of the bathtub. After, you cooked some dinner, even though uncertainty consumed you when she was coming home and what she would be like tonight.

Wilhemina pushes the door to your apartment open a while later, her heart pounding with doubt and fear. She searches the home for you in the familiar surroundings. Noticing how everything was much cleaner than when she left this morning. She finds a cooked meal waiting for her in the kitchen, a bath waiting for her in the bathroom and the bed changed into some comfortable covers. However she couldn't find you.

When she finally founds you, her heart aches a little at the sight. Sitting in the armchair in a corner of the living room, bathed in the soft glow of the lamplight, her heart swells with a mixture with relief and longing. Relief that you didn't run, didn't leave and stayed.

,,Little one'' she murmurs, her voice filled with emotions as she crosses the room to where you are sat, her cane tapping against the floor. You lift your gaze from your book, giving her a soft and gentle smile. ,,Hi Mina'' you greet her, taking in her features and noticing how her expression and posture seem less tense, meaning the medication must have helped her at least a little.

,,Why is the table only set for one?'' she asks, her brow furrowing in curiosity. You meet her gaze gently explaining ,,I wanted to give you some space to unwind, to have some time for yourself after a long day''.

The redheads heart swells with emotion at your considerate words, a lump forming in her throat as she realises how much you care about her wellbeing. At the same time knowing, usually you would set the table for two and eat with her. She worries, that she had hurt you, drove you away before after the exchange in her office. Despite the reassurance from you and the bad feeling about today, her sense of stubbornness nags at her thoughts. She accepts your explanation with a simple ,,Fine'' before leaving with a tight smile.

As she makes her way to the bathroom, her steps slow and deliberate she seeks solace in the soothing embrace of a warm bath. The tension in her muscles begins to melt away as she sinks into the steaming water, the cares of the day slipping from her mind with each passing moment. After staying in the comfort of the bath for what felt like an eternity, she emerges from the bath. Wrapping herself in a towel and getting changed, turned out to be a challenge again, sending little shooting pains through her back. She knows she could easily ask you for help but again Wilhemina was still far too stubborn for that.

As she makes her way to the kitchen a little while later in anticipation of the meal, she sits down at the table. However she couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness at the sight of the empty chair across from her. But even as she took each bite of the delicious meal you had prepared, she knows that solitude was necessary, a chance to reflect the events of the day and come to terms with her own feelings. She couldn't keep being stubborn, the fear of pushing you away further far too big a risk.

As she finishes her meal and making her way back to the living room, she finds you in the exact spot, lost in the pages of a book. Wilhemina settles beside you on the couch, finding a comfortable position for her to sit in. A sense of calm washes over her, at the thought you are there beside her. You look up from your book, giving her a gentle smile, before you put the book down altogether.

,,Was dinner okay?'' you ask quietly, trying to make conversation.

,,It was perfect, thank you little one'' she speaks softly and you sense the tension almost gone from her features and voice at this point.

She takes a deep breath before turning to you, her gaze soft but determined. ,,I need to talk to you about today, little one'' she admits, her voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside her. You nod in return, your eyes meeting hers. ,,Of course Mina'' you reply, your voice gentle and reassuring.

And with your hand clasped in hers, Wilhemina slowly begins to open up, her words tumbling forth in a rush as she pours out her frustrations and regret. She admits she couldn't make time for the doctors appointment and therefor couldn't get a new prescription. She explains the only option being her old and weaker medication. Wilhemina very briefly touches the subject of her fear of appearing weak or vulnerable, her stubborn pride often getting in the way of accepting help or support.

But she quickly changes the subject to her love for you, the anchor that always held her steady. ,,I'm so grateful for you, little one, for all that you do''. Her smile is gentle as she pulls you into her embrace, holding you there for a while.

As the evening carries on, eventually the both of you go to bed and as much as Wilhemina appreciates the soft sheets, and your support to put her in a comfortable position, another wave of pain appears. Wilhemina's scoliosis often brought on bursts of excruciating pain, despite the right medications. The pain wasn't just in her back, it radiated down her legs, sending sharp jolts of agony with each movement. Especially after a long day at work, once she gets to rest it feels like a vice grip squeezing her spine and every attempt to shift position only seems to increase the torment.

As she lays there you can tell her features changing again and your heart breaks at the sight knowing how much pain she was in. ,,Mina?'' you ask gently as her gaze meets yours the pain is very visible in her brown orbs. ,,Can I get you your medication?'' you ask softly. She simply nods, despite her strength and resilience usually, she also had her breaking points. Tonight she had reached it, after not having been on the right medication for weeks, having been agitated all day. The pain wins, forcing her to surrender to its merciless grip.

As you return she thanks you silently and invites you to lay down beside her. The room remains quiet for a while and as you take in her features you notice the usual stoic facade crumbling under the weight of the relentless pain. ,,It feels like shooting pain down my legs'' she murmurs, her voice laced with discomfort. ,,It feels like I can barely move them after today''. Despite her agony there is a hint of frustration in her tone, a silent acknowledgment of her own vulnerability. It was rare to see the usual strong woman in such a state, but even the fiercest of warriors had their moments of weakness.

Your heart breaks at the sight, wishing you could take her pain away. You would do it over and over again, taking all of her pain if it would mean some kind of relief to her. Tears swell in your eyes as you feel helpless and at the same time knowing if she was so open and honest it must be so bad that not even words could describe it. You simply reach for her hand, holding it gently as you listen to her talk.

,,I hate seeing you like this Mina, I'm so sorry'' you say, barely above a whisper.

,,How do you think I feel? I have to actually live with-'' she quickly stops herself as she feels your hand hold onto hers a little tighter. A silent reminder that it was just you two and the rest of the world didn't need to know she was letting her guard and usual high walls down. ,,I'm sorry'' she mumbles, growing frustrated at herself.

,,What can I do Mina?'' you ask softly as you meet her gaze yet again. Her eyes soften, so grateful already for all the things you had done for her today and continue to do.

,,No I don't think so- just'' she starts but quickly stops herself. You sit up beside her, giving her a soft reassuring smile.

,,Can you-'' she starts but stops herself again as she shakes her head slowly. You can tell she's suddenly shy which didn't usually happen.

,,Can you- please just hold me'' she suddenly whispers. The words take a second for your brain to register them as this was not something you expected from Wilhemina and it usually being the other way around. Your features crumble and you have to stop the lump in your throat from bringing any tears to your eyes.

Moving up a little, leaning against the frame of the bed, you open your arms and she nudges slightly as she feels the safety of your arms wrap around her. As Wilhemina rests her head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat and surprised that this wasn't making her back worse, some tears roll down her cheeks.

However you are quick to catch each one reassuring her ,,I've got you Mina, it's okay''. And with every word she believes you. The tears eventually turn into her crying in your arms and despite the scene in front of you breaking you in any way it could, seeing her in so much agony and pain, you also feel some kind of relief. Knowing that every now and then it was healthy for her to show this kind of emotion and let go of her usual stern and hiding nature.

Wilhemina feels a weight lifting from her as she listened to the gentle words escaping your lips and gentle beats of your heart against your chest, where her head still rested. In that moment as you held her in the quiet comfort of your bedroom, surrounded by the warmth of your love, Wilhemina knew that with you by her side she could face any challenge that would come knocking and she knew they wouldn't ever stop. At the same time you knew that you had done something right, knowing Wilhemina wouldn't ever portray her emotions like this easily. And as the redhead holds on for dear life, you both find comfort in the arms of each other, knowing you can face any storms that came her way.

#wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #mina #ahs #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #sarah paulson #cordelia goode #billie dean howard #sarah paulson x reader #cordelia goode x reader #ahs coven #asks

[whiskeynwriting]

Hi Liv. 💜 Thank you for writing so many lovely pieces for Daddy Whiskey. I am having the worst time I’ve had in a long time. I’m really sick but I still have to attend to a lot of obligations, and I haven’t had time to rest. How would Daddy Whiskey take care of me and make me slow down? 🤧🤒😴

To learn more about requests, click here.

A Different Kind of Love

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

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Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) 

Daddy kink (it’s always here), illness, medicine, established relationship/marriage, sweet fluffies

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A/N: random side note, reader’s temperature readings are in Fahrenheit. Your girl is American LOL but so is daddy 🥰

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“Hm?”

“Sugar,” Your husband whispers, shaking his head. The feeling of his hand, warm and strong, slides beneath the covers to caress your forearm. His other stays on your forehead, pressing a cold washcloth to your skin. “You didn’t tell me it was this bad.”

“Huh?” Your eyes are barely opening, having gone dry and droopy from sleep.

“One-hundred and four.” Jack states, prompting your eyes to widen. “Here, drink.” He then says, offering you an open water bottle. 

Everything feels weird, almost dizzying in a way. When you’d gone to sleep, Jack was still away on his business trip, and having him here so suddenly is surprising. 

“Why are you… how…”

“Sh,” He returns, lifting the bottle toward you again.

Grunting slightly, you attempt to sit up, your muscles sore and throbbing. Immediately, Jack is setting the washcloth down and reaching for you. With both of those strong hands on your back, he helps you up, urging you to lean on him. And while cradling your body, he offers the water again, urging you to take it. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He coos quietly, kissing your forehead. 

“Gonna get my germs.” Comes your weak protest, finally downing the drink. But he only laughs. It’s that deep chuckle you love so much, the one you can feel in his belly. 

“I missed you.”

“I’m sorry I’m so gross.” The words come out broken and shrill, spoken through a tiny sob. And to his surprise, you start to cry.

“Babydoll, you’re sick.” He states, almost incredulously. “And you’re not gross.” Wrapping both arms around you, he hugs you tightly, feeling your body relax into his own. “I’m here now, stop worryin’.”

Brushing a hand over your head, he slides the loose hairs away from your sweaty face, only to kiss your skin again. He can feel you shaking in his arms, can feel the ragged breaths coming from your chest. 

“C’mon, let’s get you in the shower. We gotta get this temperature down.”

Reaching for the hair tie on your nightstand, Jack wraps your hair up into a messy bun. And you’re so weak that you let him, not bothering to protest. You hate feeling like such a burden. 

“Did you leave early?”

“I did.” Jack tells you, beginning to lift your shirt to help you undress. 

“Why?” Your pout is evident, even as you lift your arms for him.

“Babycakes, I haven’t seen you this sick in years. Couldn’t just leave you here by yourself.” His trip was supposed to last ten days, but he cut it in half just for you. “Now c’mon, sweetheart.”

Once your panties are off Jack undresses himself, finally shrugging off his business suit. It’s only now that you realize he was still wearing it. He didn’t even bother to change when he got home before coming to comfort you. 

Jack takes both of your hands before helping you up, tugging on you gently. And he holds them still as he walks you to the bathroom. The cold metal on his left hand prompts your eyes to wander down, a small smile slipping on your face.

“I love you.” Looking up at him, that smile remains. 

He isn’t looking at you, he’s looking down while reaching for the faucet. But he smiles anyway. “I love you too, babycakes.”

When the water is warm he guides you in, eyeing your shaky steps. And while the heat feels good on your skin, you can’t help but shiver without your clothes on. Before Jack steps in, though, he grabs a little package out of one of your decorative jars, unwrapping it and dropping the contents onto the shower drain. And immediately, the smell of eucalyptus hits your nose, a calming scent that opens up your sinuses.

“Thank you.” You’re still trembling, your breaths stuttering, too.

“Stop thankin’ me.” His voice is calm and reassuring, his body a welcomed presence as he finally steps in to stand behind you. Jack’s sculpted arms then link around your midsection, his head dropping down to rest his chin on your shoulder. He keeps you against him, keeps you up. “It’s what I’m here for,” A soft kiss to your cheek, a small hum. “What I’m supposed to do.”

While you’re leaning against him, Jack grabs your loofah and body wash, lathering the soft tool before rubbing it over your body. He’s gentle with it, scrubbing you clean in the most loving way he knows how. And he doesn’t worry about your hair - having a head full of cold, wet hair won’t make your cold any better. 

“What about you?” Your voice is scratchy and unpleasant; it doesn’t sound like you. “I can’t, can’t wash you right now, baby.”

Your husband tuts at this, brows furrowing. “Wouldn’t expect you to. I’ll wash myself in a minute, honey.” 

And he does just that, helping you to sit on the stone bench while he washes his hair and body. He’s quick with it, too, not wanting you to sit out of the stream for too long. 

“I’m sorry you had to leave early. Champ must be so mad at you.”

“Not at all.” Giving his head a shake, he tells you, “Gives those idiot nephews a chance to prove their worth.”

Chuckling to yourself quietly, you think back to the two men you’d met. They’re around your age, the new agents, and very clearly inept. Turns out Champ is a fan of nepotism, favoring his nephews. 

“Still, I’m sorry you had to leave for me. I didn’t mean to make you w-worry.” As soon as you’re shivering again, Jack is helping you onto your feet again and ushering you beneath the warm stream. 

“Honey, you’re the most precious thing I have.” He reassures you, holding you once again. “I always worry about you.”

*

*

*

He’s so handsome, it’s all you can think. You’re drunk with love for him - how could one man be so overwhelmingly perfect? He’s caring, doting, you’ve never had anyone in your life make you feel so special. The way Jack treats you is something else entirely, it’s a different kind of love. 

Clean pajamas hold your body sweetly, soft and smelling oh so sweet. What’s even sweeter is the ice cream Jack doordashed for you, alongside your other favorite treats. And right now, he’s at the door, paying the delivery man before taking the food into the bedroom. It’s not the best habit, eating food in bed. But when you’re this sick, who the hell cares? 

“Alright, here we go.” Jack mumbles to himself, setting the plates of food down over the bedsheets. “And here’s your medicine.” He then says, handing you a couple of pills.

Before he helped you back into bed, Jack changed the sheets, putting on the clean set and then tossing the dirty ones into the washer. The entire time you’ve been sick, you’ve been worrying about the house. The dishes, the trash, the unkempt sheets. Especially with Jack returning, you wanted to make sure everything was neat for him, it’s what you always did. But when you couldn't even get out of bed to brush your teeth, you knew there was no way you’d be cleaning. Though, you knew Jack would never hold it against you. 

After ordering the food, Jack did about the house, putting things away, wiping down the surfaces and taking care of the dirty dishes and overflowing trash. It took him less than thirty minutes, and he didn’t even break a sweat. In his mind, nothing was more important than making sure you got your rest. And that meant taking away any and all distractions that would lure you out of bed. But once the food came, and everything was clean and cozy, he finally settled beside you in bed, picking up his own plate of food.

Leaning onto his shoulder, you sigh, a wave of emotion running through your body. “Daddy,” Burying your face into his chest, you finally allow yourself to release your tears of frustration and pain. “I don’t feel good.”

Setting his plate aside, he hushes you. “C’mere, honey.” 

When the food is off the bed, Jack’s urging you to rest your head in his lap. He lays back, feeling you shift onto his broad chest. One arm wraps around your back, holding you against him, while the other runs over your beautiful hair. 

“I know you’re not feelin’ good, sweet pea.” Jack’s voice is soothing, deep and warm and everything you need. “I’m so sorry. But I’m here, okay? I promise. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it for you.” 

“I just wanna cuddle you.” Your voice is muffled, face resting against his black, short-sleeve shirt. 

Again, he grins, letting out a small chuckle. Turning his head, he gives your temple a kiss before placing his fingers beneath your chin. And when your head is tilted up, he places a sweet, small kiss onto your lips. 

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” 

#daddy whiskey #my one and only #you take the best care of me #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey fluff #Jack Daniels #Kingsman 2 #Kingsman 2 fanfiction #Kingsman 2 tgc #Kingsman 2: The Golden Circle

[here2bbtstrash]

birthday drabble 10 - myg

@chaoticabstractism asked: 1, 79, 82, 95. You already know whom I want, but I’m still gonna say it: Min fucking yoongi

pairing: yoongi x reader, ft. literally one second of hoseok lol contains: smut!! dom husband yoongi need i say more 🥵🥵, reader is a brat and had too much tequila (not drunk just horny), minor dirty talk/teasing/ass grabbing, suggested infidelity as teasing, semi-public indecency (at the office party/in a car in the parking lot), spanking as punishment, thigh riding, a smidge of crying, squirting-ish? idk she's ~juicy summary: when you misbehave at his office party, your husband has no choice but to punish you.

want more? check out all my birthday drabbles here! requests for these are now closed 💜

Your husband should have known better than to leave you unattended at a party with an open bar. He’s being professional about it tonight, nursing a single glass of whiskey while he schmoozes with all the fancy record label people who want a piece of him. You can hardly blame them.

But you are under no such obligation. This is not your place of work, you barely know anyone here– and frankly, you’re bored. Yoongi promised it would only be an hour at most, but it’s been nearly two.

So you’ve done a few tequila shots. There was really nothing else to do. Leaning up against the bar, you take another sip from your glass of water in an attempt to pace yourself. You don’t want to be the drunkest one in the room, but there are a gaggle of men that Yoongi sarcastically dubbed the “finance bros” who seem to have that title on lock for the night. Which, in your estimation, means you have room to get a little silly.

Just as his name enters your mind, the mass of people in the center of the room parts, and your husband steps through, eyes clearly scanning for you. Speak of the devil. As much as you love the casual version of him in t-shirts and joggers that you encounter daily, there’s something about him in a suit that really does it for you.

God, you could jump him right now. Maybe tequila was a bad choice.

Yoongi’s eyes alight on you, and you see some emotion on his face that looks like a mixture of concern and intrigue. He’s probably piecing together the fact that he just disappeared to mingle for a solid thirty minutes, and that he left you alone at the bar– and that you’re now making aggressive bedroom eyes in his direction.

When you shoot him a wink, you swear he crosses the room in three seconds.

“What are you doing?”

You look up at him innocently, trying to hide your smile. “Standing. Waiting for you. Drinking tequila.” His eyes widen at the last one. Your husband is well aware of the liquor’s effect on you– there’s a reason he chose Mexico for your honeymoon.

“How much have you had?”

“I’m fine, Yoongi.” You giggle a little despite yourself as you bring your hand up to gently cup his face. “You just look really good, that’s all.”

He sighs, giving you a few seconds to squish his cheek undisturbed before he brings his hand up to cover yours and pulls you off of him. You intertwine your fingers with his as he smooths his other hand over your hair and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry this is taking so long. There are a bunch of executives from overseas here that I didn’t account for. I promise I’m almost done.”

“Wanna do a shot with me?” You waggle your eyebrows at him, tugging on your joined hands, and you see a muscle in his jaw work.

“Nope, I’m cutting you off. I need all of your clothes to stay on in front of my coworkers, please.”

“Yoongi!” You stomp your foot like a literal child. “I’m not drunk!”

He surveys you for a moment, then nods. “You’re not. You’re horny, which is arguably worse.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he releases your hand, sliding his palm to press against the small of your back instead. You swear you can feel the heat of his touch radiate up your spine, and it feels so good you have to let your eyes flutter closed for a moment. Maybe he has a point.

“Come on,” Yoongi prompts you, and when you open your eyes again, you can see him fighting to keep a smile off his face. “Let’s do one more round so I can show off my hot wife to everyone, and then I’ll take you home.”

You beam at his compliment, finding his tie with one hand and giving the end of it a gentle tug. “And then what are you gonna do to me?”

He only quirks an eyebrow in answer, but it’s an answer you know well: Everything.

Yoongi shakes his head a little, but his smile is even more apparent now as he once again extracts himself from your grip. He presses his lips to the shell of your ear. “Now, behave.”

You allow him to guide you through various groups of his coworkers, and you do your best to smile and exchange pleasantries like you aren’t overwhelmingly turned on.

When conversations spin off into tangents full of music industry jargon, your thoughts wander to inappropriate places before you can stop them. Not that you want to. There are multiple occasions where someone says your name, clearly having just asked a question, and you have to snap back to reality and ask them to repeat it, because you were absolutely not paying attention; you were too busy thinking about getting railed by your husband. You don’t say the last part out loud.

Yoongi keeps sneaking glances at you, and whenever he notices that glazed-over look in your eyes, he keeps you in check with a gentle shoulder nudge or hip bump. You scrunch your nose up at him in frustration when he does– you don’t want to be kept in check. 

Well, you do, but not in that way.

As you stand there, trying not to go cross-eyed over an excruciating sidebar between the director of something and the head of who-gives-a-shit, you do your best to be subtle about it. You turn your head away from the group, lips floating right by Yoongi’s ear, and keep your voice low enough that only he can hear.

“I’m too wet to stand here and listen to this.”

His eyebrows nearly jump off his forehead, and you watch his gaze flit over every other person in the circle, clearly checking to make sure no one heard you. There’s a moment’s pause where you think that reaction might be all you get, and then he ducks his head and murmurs his response.

“What did you just say?”

You try to keep the evil out of your smile, beaming at him pleasantly, like you’re talking about grocery shopping or your next vacation. “You heard me.”

The hand pressed to your lower back moves in a gentle circle, but his next words are anything but. “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with that, darling.”

The pet name is almost enough to make you laugh out loud, and you can’t help but press your luck. It might get you out of here faster, you reason.

“I hope you don’t, cutie.” Lightning-quick to avoid detection, you bring your hand to his ass for a firm squeeze.

Yoongi full-body flinches, enough that the important businessperson standing to his right glances over to make sure he’s okay. Your husband has fast reflexes, thankfully, because he quickly presses his mouth into his elbow, feigning a cough to cover your bad behavior.

“Excuse me,” he says politely, and it seems to be enough to avoid suspicion. The mind-numbing conversation continues without you.

“You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.” His voice is deadly serious in your ear, and you run your tongue along your back teeth as you smile up at him.

“You keep threatening me with a good time, Yoongs. Not the best tactic if you’re trying to get me to stop.”

Yoongi’s jaw twitches, but he says nothing, trying to be an obedient little worker and keep up with the discussion that you couldn’t care less about. With a frustrated sigh, you continue to glance over his shoulder, your gaze finding the gaggle of finance bros again.

They’re hovering closest to the speakers that are blasting terribly bland pop music– you’d think a music industry party would have better taste– and have clearly challenged each other to some kind of dance battle. Your head tilts slightly as you watch them, grateful for any form of entertainment, and you realize that you actually do remember one of their names.

Jung Hoseok. He and Yoongi have known each other for ages, and he’s always been sweet to you. And, damn, you did not know he could move like that.

You dip your head towards Yoongi’s ear again, more determined than ever to rile him up. “Maybe I should ask Hoseok to fuck me instead. He certainly looks like he knows what he’s doing, just look at those hips.”

You’ve never seen your husband fight harder to suppress rage in his life. Before he can come up with any sort of reply, one of the boring conversationalists pipes up. “I think I need another round. Anyone else?” You wave to indicate your disinterest while Yoongi stays stock-still, and the circle dissipates to head for the bar, leaving the two of you alone together.

You slide both of your hands up your husband’s chest, trying to act sweet, like you didn’t just discuss fucking his coworker. “Can we please leave now?”

When you look up at him through your lashes, he has a familiar dark glint in his eyes– you know what that look means, and it’s enough to have every muscle in your body tensing with the knowledge that he will absolutely be wrecking you when you get home.

“Come on,” he grunts, and the hand pressing into your back is insistent now, pushing you forward. Yoongi doesn’t relent until you’re out of the building entirely and standing in front of his car in the parking lot.

But the next words out of his mouth surprise you. “Back seat. Now.”

You open the car door and slide in obediently, watching through the window as he circles around to get in on the other side. When he turns to look at you, you don’t think you’ve ever seen his eyes burn with such intensity.

He smacks a hand over his knee, loud enough that you jump a little. “Get up here. Bend over. I’m not kidding.”

Oh, fuck. It’s all you can do not to smile in a mix of delight and terrified anticipation as you crawl across the seat and lay over his knee.

Yoongi wastes no time, instantly hiking your dress up to expose your ass, and you outright moan when his hand roughly cups your sex over your panties. They're soaked through with your arousal that’s been building up all night, enough that your inner thighs stick together. The fact that any of his coworkers could walk out into the parking lot and see you like this just sends a fresh wave straight to your cunt.

“I told you to behave,” Yoongi says starkly, and you grit your teeth to bite back a whimper.

His hand cracks down so hard over your exposed ass that you shoot forward a little, some primal instinct to get away from the pain kicking in. The motion makes your cunt grind over his leg, and your thighs tremble at the sudden stimulation after such a long night of waiting for it, the insane mix of pain and pleasure.

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, but Yoongi speaks over you.

“That is for talking dirty in front of my coworkers. Ready for another?” The fact that he asks, that he’s taking care of you even now, isn’t lost on you. God, you love this man.

Your clit throbs in desperation, and you slowly nod your head. The second spank lands even harder than the first, giving you enough momentum that you rock against his thigh a few times, and you’re edged so hard now that you’re nearly delirious.

“That,” Yoongi continues, “is for grabbing my ass in public.”

“F-fuck, Yoongi,” you choke out, realizing belatedly that a tear is streaming down your face. You don’t think you’re going to make it.

“What is it, love?” His voice is instantly gentler, and he brings his hand up to run tenderly over the skin he’s just abused. “Just one more, and then we’re done.”

“I-I,” you gasp, trying to think straight enough to form words, your forehead pressing hard into the leather of the backseat. “I n-need it. Please, please. Don’t hold back.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, because this one’s for suggesting that you’d like to fuck Hoseok.”

His hand comes down so hard across your backside that you swear you see stars. Your whole body was shaking even before he made contact, and the way this third smack forces your cunt to slide over his leg a final time is too much.

You cry out, not giving a fuck if anyone else in the parking lot might be able to hear, as an unexpected yet simultaneously edged-all-night orgasm rips through you, your cunt clenching hard around nothing.

You continue to rut against Yoongi’s thigh as your walls pulse, and you can feel fluid leaking out of you, fully running down your leg and probably soaking into his dress pants.

“Oh my god.” The angry, dominating persona has suddenly evaporated from Yoongi’s voice. “Did you seriously just come?”

“Yes,” you groan into the seat, still recovering.

You feel his hands move to cup your shoulders, and you allow him to sit you up, feeling like a weightless rag-doll. He wipes away one of the tears that are still running down your face.

“Jesus fucking christ, you’re a mess,” Yoongi laughs, but you know he says it with love because he chases it with a gentle kiss. “Let’s get you home, hmm?”

You can only nod dumbly in agreement.

“I have a bruised ego to tend to,” he continues dryly. “Guess I’ll just have to remind you that Jung fucking Hoseok won’t go down on you for an hour.”

#birthday drabbles~ #chaoticabstractism #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut

[writingfics-passingtime]

Cry by cigarettes after sex + matt murdock x reader

Wait for Me to Stay

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: Cry

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (romantic, no pronouns used)

Word Count: 1200

CW: This is about grief and PTSD and how the body holds onto emotional pain. Depictions of the snap/mass death. This one’s a little heavier. Swearing.

Note: Thank you for your beautiful request, anon! I’ve been thinking about grief for a while, and I’ve been wanting to write something about Matt coming back from the Snap so this felt fitting. Hope you like it 💜

Your bed still felt like a graveyard.

The feeling wasn’t one that existed despite the years, but because of them.

Still, your bed was like a final resting place for the life you’d had.

For his life.

The memories would swarm you, a choking embrace, a melancholic fatigue whenever you'd lay down; it was like you could touch everything that wasn't there. No more warmth stored in the thread count, no steady rise and fall of Your Love on those rare night he'd slept so soundly.

Except now, the graveyard was haunted.

Because he was back. Everyone came back, and their return was like their departure: shrouded in chaos.

It was disorienting and messy and too much, just like that day all those years ago when Matt's hand had tightened around yours to pull you out of the way of a bus swerving off the road.

The driver had disappeared. Turned to dust.

By the time you recovered from the adrenaline spike of nearly being flattened by careening metal, you felt an eerie lightness in your hand and Matt was gone before you had the chance to hear him choke out his last breath.

There wouldn’t have been much chance to hear it over almost every car colliding with something, be it another car or a mail drop box, a lamppost, a person who hadn’t evaporated, the side of a building. You’d never seen a city-wide pileup before. Never heard one either.

After all these years, the only piece of solace you offered yourself was that Matt didn’t have to hear the carnage.

A little more than five years later you found yourself sinking to the floor of your local coffee shop -It's happening again, it's happening again, it's happening again- was the only thought running through your head. Except it wasn't a coherent thought. More of a feeling, a guttural reaction. You sank deeper, holding your head to your knees, palms glued to your ears because the screaming had been the worst part the first time - when the Ones Left Behind had collectively grieved, wailing and clawing at the ground, at the air, at the scraps of the people they loved.

It was a stranger who'd managed to pull you out of your cocoon. You only started crying when you felt the touch of another person because as far as you knew until that point, the whole world had disappeared this time.

Except it hadn't.

There was a different kind of reassurance in this person's voice. "It's… okay," he'd said to you. You couldn't respond, remaining still and quiet in your shelter from the war zone.

Everyone was shaken but he sat with you. You never caught his name, but he stayed on the floor beside you until you managed to unfurl enough to listen, to realise that the cars had crashed because people had appeared in the middle of the road. Out of nowhere. That the screams were from shock when the street suddenly doubled in population because people were materialising out of thin air. "Holy shit… they’re really back," the man had whispered.

He only left you when his phone rang and he broke down into the sobs of a destroyed man about to rebuild.

You weren’t even sure how you’d found your way back to the loft. There was no memory of moving through the streets, only the distinct feeling of a shell-shocked weightlessness. It didn’t feel real, even when he burst through the front door.

To him, it’d been nothing. No time had passed, no loss had taken root.

To you, it had been over five years since Matt had died, and two years since you lost hope in the Avengers. That kind of grief burrows into your bones.

“I’m trying Matt,” you whispered when you’d struggle to fall asleep next to him, because you’d grown accustomed to sleeping alone.

“I know you are,” he assured you, and didn’t fight any time you had to sleep on the couch.

It's a pain tattooed on the tips of your fingers, staining everything of his that you touched. Because, now, when he leaves his shoes by the front door it doesn't feel like he'll ever put them on and come and go again - it feels like that day, some day more three years after The Vanishing, some day right after you lost hope, when a new friend arrived at your door and helped you pack him away.

“What are you doing up here?” Matt’s voice came from behind your shoulder as you looked up at the towering skylines. It was four in the morning and you couldn’t sleep again.

You shrugged. “I come up here a lot now.” To see the lights in the windows, to try and remind yourself that life was still being lived.

It was so weird seeing his things around the loft again. It should feel like a happy memory, or like deja vu at the very least, but all you can see are the things you sealed away in boxes.

Truth be told, you hadn't held onto them out of sentiment or pain or hope. It had been pure brain fog. Every ounce of your cognitive capacity was firing on all cylinders to just get through every day of this new life, you couldn't think about the boxes in the hallway closet or taking them to Goodwill.

“What am I supposed to do?” Matt finally broke, almost three months after he came back. You were in tears, having panicked when you woke up nestled into a warm body.

“I’m sorry, Matt, I’m so fucking sorry,” you choked out, pulling your knees into your chest as your vision became hot and blurred. “I’m trying.”

He knew you were trying.

He could feel it in the way you’d cling to him when car horns blared, or when there was any commotion on the street, really. He’d hear it in the hesitation on your tongue when he asked if you were okay and it was one of the times you weren’t. He knew you knew you were overjoyed that he was back.

Your mind knew it. Your body was still catching up.

All of the people you lost, all that love, that security, all those years… that doesn’t go away overnight. Your heart had atrophied, your capacity for companionship had gone so unused that you’d adjusted to this new life. To open yourself up again, there would be growing pains. But you were trying.

“Please don’t leave,” you begged, wiping your tears on your sleeve as the couch sank with his weight next to you.

As he’d grown to do, Matt waited until you came to him. After a few minutes you turned and laid your weary head down on his lap. After a few more, he gently caressed his fingers through your hair.

He couldn’t promise he would never leave again because, as he learned, that might not be up to him.

So as you fell asleep on him for the first time in over five years, he made you a promise he could keep:

“Your pain will not push me away.”

#matt murdock #matt Murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #no y/n #marvel x reader #marvel reader insert #JJ’s Mixtape #matt murdock x reader #Marvel x you #matt murdock hurt/comfort #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you

[tswaney17]

I Do Bad Things with You - Part 39

Happy @elriel-month fam!! Of course, we're going to celebrate the "What If" prompt with an IDBTWY update. 😏 I'm very excited to share this piece with you and cannot wait for the following two parts (which may be my two favorites of the series). While this is my official last fic of Elriel Month, I will be sharing something tomorrow about an upcoming project, so be on the lookout for that. Grab a snack, this is a long one. Much love to you all! 💙💜💚

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 9,655

He had everything planned. Called Elain’s boss and got her approved time off. Packed their bags and hid them in the closet until their flight. Now they were in the entryway of the apartment.

His plane was currently sitting on the runway, waiting for them.

The only thing left to do was to tell her.

Azriel was waiting at home for Elain to get off work. She was scheduled a half day—per his request—and would be home any minute.

As if waiting for her queue, the elevator doors pinged open and she stepped out, startled at the sight of him standing there in a pair of dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and sneakers. “Oh!” she breathed, moving further into the foyer. “This is a surprise…what are you doing here?” Her honey-brown eyes darted to the two suitcases and back to his. Brows furrowing, she asked him, “Are you going somewhere?”

A half smile curled up the corner of his lips. “No,” he said, letting her confusion grow just a hair more. “We’re going somewhere. A little trip for a few days.”

That had her eyes widening and she crossed her arms, propping a hip on the foyer table. “Az, babe.” Fuck he loved when she called him that. “I’m not sure if you’ve forgotten this but I can’t exactly work remotely for my job.” The teasing tone of voice had him chuckling.

“I’m very well aware of that, my sweet. We’re each taking the next four days off.”

“I have to request time off, Azriel—”

“You did. Or I did, I should say. I called your boss last month to ask if you could take these four days off for a surprise trip I was planning for you.” Her brows shot into her hairline. “He readily agreed, saying that you never take time off and it was well-earned.”

Her arms went slack at her sides. “You called my boss to request time off for me?”

He nodded. Fuck, Az hoped he didn’t overstep.

“And you planned a whole trip?”

“I did.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is this the reason we moved Nesta and Cassian’s baby shower to next month, closer to her due date?”

He flashed a cheeky smile. “Perhaps…”

“And it’s just us?” she asked.

“Just us,” he confirmed. He didn’t feel it was necessary to bring the whole protection detail with them. It was a last-minute, short trip. And they would be together the whole time. He wanted to give Elain this sense of normalcy. The privacy of just spending time alone together.

Elain was silent as she stared at him. Emotions flickered across her face, the most prominent of them: shock. “Nobody has ever done anything like this for me,” she whispered, eyes glistening.

Relief washed over him at her words—the disbelief that someone took the time to plan something just for her. “We need to get a move on; why don’t you go change so we can head out in say,” he glanced at his watch, “a half hour?”

An airy giggle escaped her. “Can I shower first? I still feel like I have the hospital on me. And I need to pack.”

“I’ve packed for you.”

At that, she laughed. “Now that makes me nervous.” Shaking her head. “I need more than lingerie, Az.”

A deep, rumbling chuckle burst out of him. “Not that I wouldn’t mind you parading around in lingerie—or nothing for that matter—for the entire duration of our trip, I promise you I packed you real clothing.” And he had; grabbed some of her things and bought a few new pieces, such as the silk robe and a swimsuit.

Elain pursed her lips to keep herself from smiling as she moved closer to him, stepping into his arms and kissing him. “All right. Let me freshen up and then we’ll leave. Where are we headed?”

Azriel dropped his lips to her pert nose, loving the way she scrunched it up. “It’s a surprise, my lady. Now, go get ready so we can leave.” He gently pushed her towards the stairs and then swatted her behind, making her yelp.

“And wear something comfortable!” he called up to her.

“Okay, Dad!”

Oh, she was definitely going to get it for that comment. In the front pocket of his suitcase was the little toy he bought her. And, boy, did he have plans to use it.

~~~

Within half an hour, Elain was downstairs, dressed in leggings and an oversized sweater, and sneakers. She looked positively adorable. “Is this okay for travel?”

In truth, she might be a little warm when they got to their destination, but he had a car lined up and could kick the AC up if she needed it. “It’s perfect. Let’s go.” Az shrugged on his sweatshirt hanging off one of the barstools since it was still winter in Velaris. Grabbing both of their luggage, he escorted Elain down to the garage.

“You’re still not going to tell me where we’re headed?”

He shot her a wink, pressed the button to close the hatch of their car, and went to open her door for her. “Nope,” he stated, popping the p sound.

Elain huffed exasperated, climbing into the passenger seat.

He held her hand the entire drive, every once in a while, bringing her knuckles to his lips to brush a kiss to them. But when he pulled up at the airstrip where his jet was housed on the backside of the airport, he turned to look at her and found both surprise and a hint of fear shining in her eyes.

It was not what he was expecting. Cutting the engine, Az twisted in his seat to face her more fully. “El, love. Talk to me.” He kept his voice quiet, not wanting to startle her but begging her to speak her mind.

Elain let out a weighted breath. “The plane…I—,” she hesitated looking for the right words. “It reminds me of that day.”

Fuck, he’d been so stupid not to think about how her kidnapping might have instilled a phobia of flying. Azriel took note that Gavriel and Dorian were still standing at the top of the stairs to his jet, waiting for their queue to approach. “Elain, I am so sorry. I didn’t even think that you might have an issue with planes after that incident.”

“How could you have known? I didn’t even know until seeing it.”

He squeezed her fingers in reassurance, brushing his thumb across the backside of her palm. “If you want to turn around and go home, we can, but I want you to know that this is my jet and those two pilots up there,” he watched her eyes glance at the two males. “I trust them with my life. They will get us to our destination safely, I promise you that. But the choice is yours.”

She sat quietly, looking at the plane until finally, a small smile crept onto her lips. “I supposed I shouldn’t be shocked that you have your own jet.”

Azriel tipped his head back and laughed, exposing the strong column of his throat. “No, you really shouldn’t.”

“It’s why you said the plane wouldn’t leave without you for your last business trip, right?”

He grinned. “Indeed it was.”

“I would’ve looked completely idiotic showing up at the airport for you and you never showed.”

“Cerridwen would’ve taken you to the airstrip, not the airport.”

She looked at him then, golden-brown locks sliding off her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this?”

Az shrugged. “I thought I could use it to my advantage one day.”

“Ah, yes. Well, you succeeded.”

He stroked the backside of her hand again. “So, love, what will it be? Home or away?”

Elain looked between him and the plane. Leaning across the center console, she kissed him, fingers skimming delicately across his jaw. “Let’s go on an adventure,” she breathed against his lips.

Smiling, Azriel cupped the backside of her head, pulling her in for another slow kiss. His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, begging for entry and when she granted him access, he took full advantage. Popping the trunk, he jumped out of the car and made his way to her side, helping her out.

Both men had reached them, collecting their bags from the back, and met them at the stairs.

The older one, with hair golden like the sun and tawny eyes, spoke first. “Mr. Knight, it’s good to see you.” Releasing Azriel’s hand, he focused on her. “You must be Doctor Archeron? It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She took his hand, shaking it. “Just Elain, please.”

“Elain,” he said, tasting her name on his tongue. “My name is Gavriel and this is my copilot, Dorian.”

The dark-haired man shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Elain.”

“It’s great to meet you both. How long have you been working for Azriel?”

Az slid a scarred palm to settle on her lower back.

“I’ve been under Mr. Knight’s employment for about five years now,” Gavriel explained. “Dorian got his pilot’s license in the Airforce and is new to flying private jets. He’s been with us for just over a year now.”

“Gavriel is Aelin’s uncle, Elain. And Dorian a friend of hers since school,” Azriel told her.

She looked at him standing next to her. “Ah, so she took advantage of her position with you,” she joked.

All three men burst out laughing.

“Something like that,” Dorian said, grinning.

Gavriel waved a hand in the direction of the stairs. “Your chariot awaits, my lady. We’ll do final checks once inside and get cleared for takeoff.”

Nudging her up the stairs, Az watched as Elain took in her surroundings, her eyes darting around the cabin of the plane before settling on him. He could read the slight nervousness she was trying to hide but was pushing through. “Where would you like to sit?”

She looked at the couch, then the table. “Where do you recommend?”

He thought about it. “The table allows you to sit facing forward, which is preferable if you get motion sickness. The couch is more comfortable.”

“I don’t think I get sick, so let’s try the couch.”

Guiding her there, Azriel sat her down and reached into the seats to buckle her in.

A small smile played on her lips. “Why do I get the feeling you like strapping me down?”

Dorian choked, nearly dropping the suitcase he was storing in the upper cabinets.

Elain’s face went scarlet at realizing she was overheard and buried it into his neck.

He laughed, putting his arms around her as the young pilot scampered into the cockpit and shut the door. “While tying you up has its appeal, let’s save that for when we don’t have two others present.”

She groaned into his throat. “I did not mean to say that out loud. Or at least in the presence of others.”

Az pushed her back to kiss her cheek. “Fret not, my love. Dorian’s got a bit of a reputation as a ladies’ man. It’s likely nothing he’s never explored.”

“Fine, but that doesn’t mean he needs to know what we do in private.”

He brushed a rogue curl behind her ear. “All of my close employees sign an NDA. He won’t speak a word. I promise you he’s probably heard worse. Nuala has a mouth on her, especially when she talks about her fiancée.”

Elain shuddered. “Remind me not to ask about said fiancée.”

“Noted,” he chuckled, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose. Sitting down next to her, he fastened his seatbelt and settled his large hand on her thigh.

The engines roared to life and Az felt Elain tense next to him. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he tucked her close to him, pressing his lips to the side of her head. “We’re okay,” he murmured into her hair.

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts as we have been cleared for takeoff. We will be cruising at ten thousand feet today. Please sit back, relax, and enjoy your flight.

Hoping to ease Elain’s discomfort as they took off, Az focused on peppering kisses along her cheek, and her neck, tugging the collar of her sweater away to grant himself access to her shoulder.

It worked. Elain started giggling during the ascent. “Are you trying to seduce me?” she sighed, head tilting to the side and offering more of her skin for him to taste.

He smiled into her throat. “Depends. Is it working?” His tongue lapped at the soft skin behind her ear, teeth nipping until he knew she’d have a bruise there.

She hummed in contentment. “Perhaps.”

Once the plane leveled out and Gavriel gave them the all-clear to move about the cabin, Azriel unbuckled his seatbelt and went to the bar, pouring each of them a glass of champagne.

“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly up at him, taking the glass from his outstretched hand.

He plopped back down next to her, clinking their glasses together. “Just a few hours until our destination.”

Elain took a sip, contemplating the information. “Still not going to tell me where you’re taking me?”

“Nope. It’ll ruin the surprise.”

She chuckled, leaning into his frame. “Well, I suppose we should just relax then since you aren’t being helpful.”

He kissed her forehead, and then her lips, savoring the sweetness of the champagne on them. “I suppose we will.”

~~~~~

When Elain looked out the window and saw the ocean, she finally figured out where he was taking her. “We’re going to the Summer District.”

“Well, technically we’re in it already,” Az grinned.

She leaned an elbow on the window ledge, staring out at the blue water. “Is this another business trip?” She wouldn’t be upset if he was utilizing this opportunity to do business and as a vacation.

He reached forward, gripping her chin to force her gaze to his. “You said you wanted to go somewhere with a beach.” She had—when he asked her where she wanted to vacation during their video call. “No side work. Nothing is pulling me away from you for these next four days.” His thumb swept under her bottom lip. “Just us.”

Smiling, Elain nipped the pad of his thumb.

Thankfully, the descent didn’t make her as nervous as the ascent. She didn’t think her fear of planes was completely conquered, but it was a good step in the right direction. And as long as she had Azriel by her side, it wasn’t something she couldn’t work through.

A car was waiting for them when they landed. Back in the passenger seat, Elain took in everything around her. They were in the city of Adriata. A beautiful, bustling, glistening city with towering buildings, amazing architecture, markets on nearly every corner, and everything else you could imagine in a coastal town.

They drove in companionable silence until Azriel continued past the city’s edge. “Where are we going?” she finally asked him as houses became few and far between.

A curve of his lips. “To where we’re staying at.”

She looked at him then. “We’re not staying in a hotel in the city?”

“If I don’t stay in a hotel for business trips, did you think I was going to subject you to it for a vacation?”

Elain huffed a laugh. “You’re an overspender, you know that?”

Azriel quickly looked at her, his face giving nothing away, and then back at the road. “Baby, you have no idea.”

Well, she got the idea when he pulled into the driveway of a large home with an unattached guest house, and…Jesus fuck, was that a sale pending sign in the front lawn? Her golden-brown eyes widened. “Azriel, where are we?”

A boyish grin took over his face. Clicking the button to pop the trunk, he told her, “Come on.”

Grabbing their bags from the back, Azriel met her at the front door, unlocking it and letting her inside. He put their suitcases down in the foyer and shut the door behind them.

Elain took hesitant steps into the house. It was beyond gorgeous. The open floor plan allowed for easy access from the kitchen area, divided off by a built-in bar, to the living and dining room. The color scheme was a combination of white with blue-gray and wooden accents. Large bay windows encased the entire side of the house that faced a beautiful pool, a private beach, and the open ocean. Sitting on the back porch was a full patio set with an L-shaped couch and two chairs.

She stood frozen in the center of the living room, in awe of the entire home.

“Azriel,” she started, “did you buy this?”

A large hand came down onto her shoulder, fingers squeezing. “Technically, we bought this.”

Elain whipped around.

“Well, technically we’re in closing dependent on you.”

“On me?” She blinked. “What are you going on about?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his forehead to hers. “I wanted to purchase this house together. With both our names on the deed. The application is basically done—they just need your approval to add you to the mortgage and then we’ll sign.”

“You want to move?”

Azriel laughed, pulling back to look down at her face. “No, love. Not move. But we could use a summer home.”

She gaped. “You want a what now?”

“A summer home,” he repeated. “A place that is ours where we can come vacation at when we need to get away from everything and everyone.”

Elain’s eyes darted between his, hearing him but still not quite understanding. “I—why?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Because I want to. Because you mentioned you wanted to go to someplace with a beach and this area has some of the best ones in the country. Because I fell in love with the house when I was last here and could picture us vacationing here. I could see you here, sitting out on the beach or by the pool. I imagined you actually relaxing for once. You don’t do it nearly enough.”

Listening to him, Elain realized that he knew this place better than he was letting on. “This is the house you rented for your business trip, isn’t it?”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “It is. The owner had said I was his last rental before he sold it—with all the furnishings, I might add. He was in the process of putting it up on the market. I simply told him not to bother. That I would purchase it under the assumption that you agreed.”

“It’s not my money, Az.”

He frowned. “Elain, what I have is also yours. And if you decide you don’t want this house, then I’ll pull it. But if you do, this will be our home here.”

She hesitated, glancing around the room. Gods, it really was a beautiful house.

“Before you make a decision,” he interrupted her train of thoughts, “at least let me take you on a tour to help you decide.”

Taking her hand, Azriel led her through the kitchens, showing her the pristine countertops, state-of-the-art appliances, and cozy knickknacks that were sporadically placed all over. Elain could picture the two of them making breakfast together, her sitting on the counter providing unnecessary instructions while Az laughed at her antics, refilling her mimosa or cup of coffee and kissing her.

Tugging her through the house, he took her to the living area, upstairs into the bedrooms—there were five in this house alone and apparently two more with a full bathroom, kitchen, and living room in the guest house. There was enough room for their entire family, and then some.

They traveled back down the stairs to a small library-like office with a nook facing the ocean. It was a quaint room, filled with dark furniture that reminded her of a castle library.

And then he pulled her to the final room, a game room of the sorts with a dart board, a foosball table, and a pool table.

Elain ran her fingertips over the wood of the table; brushed them along the velvet grass.

Azriel wrapped his arms around her waist. “Do you play?”

She shrugged. “I know the basic idea. You use the sticks to pop balls into pockets, right?”

His chest rumbled with the force of his laughter. “I mean, that’s the gist of it. You use the cue stick to push the white ball into your designated solids or stripes. The first one to sink their balls and then the eight ball wins.”

“Sounds fascinating.”

Scarred fingers slipped under the hem of her sweater, rubbing at the skin of her hipbones. “Do you want to play?” he murmured, lips pressed onto her cheek.

Her lips curved up. “Why don’t we make it interesting?”

A light kiss on her jaw. “Hmm? What did you have in mind?”

Elain tipped her head to the side. “Winner gets to pick the next activity.”

Azriel’s mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “That seems like an unfair advantage for me.” The ghost of a whisper sent shivers running down her spine.

Her toes curled in her sneakers. “Then I suppose you should think about what it is you want to do next.” Twisting her head, she told him, “Rack them up.”

After giving her a final kiss, Az did as he was told, prepping the balls and then handing her one of the cue sticks. “Do you want to break?”

She shook her head. “No, you go ahead.”

Azriel leaning over the table to line up his shot had heat pooling between her legs. His trim waist, broad shoulders, and the delicious curve of his ass were all on display for her. The balls clanked together, sending a colored one into the corner pocket. He grinned at her. “I’m solids.”

He worked his way around the table, sinking two more balls before his third shot went wide. Lips pursed, he muttered a foul curse.

Elain just smiled sweetly at him. “So, I just hold it like this?” she asked, purposely pulling her elbow wide.

“Ah, so this is why you wanted to play,” he smirked, leaning over her and adjusting her hold. The cradle of his hips pressed into her ass, fitting her perfectly.

“Something like that,” she told him as he helped her shoot and sank her first stripped ball. Leaning up, she pulled his cheek forward to kiss. “I think I got it now.”

Truth be told, Elain was good at pool. Like really good. Competition-worthy. But, he didn’t need to know that yet. She grabbed another easy shot in the side pocket. But for her third, she lined up for an off-the-side wall, opposite corner pocket. With a steady breath, she sank her third stripe.

Looking up at him, she grinned at his wary face. He wasn’t quite there, but she knew he was close to catching on. Sidling between him and the table, she murmured an “Excuse me,” giving him a slight poke in the stomach with the end of her cue stick as she bent over the table and rubbed her ass against his crotch.

He hissed, shuffling to the side slightly, and laid his large palm over the small of her back.

Ignoring how his touch lit an inferno inside of her, Elain shot the next ball across the table, between two of his solids, and right into the corner pocket.

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve played this before?” Az asked, eyes narrowing at her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her fourth shot ran down the side of the table and into the bottom corner pocket, but her fifth just barely missed the side hole. She made an indignant noise, leaning back up off the table.

Using the same move as she did, Azriel slipped between her and the table, pressing his body against hers. He sank the first shot by using his ball and tapping it into another. Then pocketed the fifth ball right behind it. But his sixth missed giving her a perfect spot for her final three shots.

“Eight ball, right corner pocket,” she called, indicating with her cue stick. Elain shot, bouncing the black ball off the side and sending it hurtling into its correct pocket.

Azriel stood there, leaning on his cue stick in complete disbelief. “You hustled me!”

The corner of her mouth curled up into a devious little smirk as she snickered. “Perhaps,” she answered cheekily.

“You little minx,” he growled, dropping his stick to the floor and sweeping her up into his arms. Their mouths crashed together for a heated, passionate kiss.

Legs wrapping around his waist, Elain dropped her cue, letting her fingers slide into his hair and tugging it at the root.

He groaned, pulling back far enough to rest his forehead on hers. Breathing harshly, he asked her, “So, since you hustled me for the win, what are we doing next?”

Catching her breath, Elain gave him her answer. “I think we should christen the house, starting with this table.”

That had Azriel shifting back to look at her face. He slowly cupped the side of her cheek. “Christen it as in we’re buying it?”

The sweet hope in his voice had her heart melting. She nodded. “Yes, I want to buy this house, Az. I want this to be our summer home. One where we can have our family come to enjoy and take vacations.” She kissed his lips softly before adding, “I want this home with you.”

Making a choking sound, Azriel surged forward and kissed her greedily. His tongue slipped between her lips, stroking hers until she was moaning. Needing to feel her skin, he yanked her sweater over her head, leaving her in her bra, leggings, and sneakers. Guiding her to lie back on the table, he removed one shoe, kissed her ankle, and then repeated the motion with her other.

Elain grabbed the hem of his shirt, having discarded his sweatshirt earlier, and tugged it over his head. His black locks went wild in disarray but it somehow made him even sexier. Her fingers went to his belt, deftly undoing it and the button of his jeans.

He tore her leggings off to reveal the scrap of lace she wore. Azriel’s eyes went wide as he took in the matching set. Lightly brushing the pads of his fingers over her cup, he asked her, “Did you wear this for me, love?”

She smiled bashfully at him. “I did. Do you like it?”

Blown-out eyes, framed by a ring of hazel glanced up at her. “Fuck yeah, I do. It’s taking every ounce of my self-control not to rip them right off you.”

“No need to be an animal, Azriel,” she teased, flashing him a sultry smile.

He swept his hands down her body, savoring the feeling of her delicate skin beneath his palms. “Baby, you have no idea.” Sucking on her neck, he slipped his hands beneath her to unhook her bra, pulling it off her and dropping it unceremoniously on the ground at his feet.

His mouth traveled down her chest, pulling her nipple into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth.

Elain arched off the table, moaning at the sensation that tugged at her core.

Fingers slipping between her legs, he stroked her over the fabric, feeling the dampness that had formed. “Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he swore, sliding the garment to the side and pushing his finger inside of her with no resistance.

She cried out, hips undulating towards his hand. Pleasure coursed through her body when he brought his thumb down to circle her clit. “Stop playing,” Elain growled, using her feet to push his pants and boxers down his thighs.

A wicked little smirk formed on his lips. “And what if I want to taste?” he demanded, pumping into her with a second finger.

“Suck your fingers. I just need your cock. Now.”

Surprise lit his face. Elain was never particularly vocal, nor demanding in bed. She’d sometimes tell him what she wanted from him, but it was typically out of desperation. Not as a command.

Azriel pulled his fingers from her and placed them against her mouth. “Taste yourself.” His voice brooked no room for argument and Elain wrapped her lips around his digits, drawing them further into her oral cavity until the tips touched the back of her throat.

Breathing steadily through her nose, she sucked his fingers like it was his cock, lapping her tongue around each to clean the slick of her off.

Pumping his hand into her mouth, Az rubbed himself against her, coating his cock in her juices and providing just the right amount of pressure to her clit.

She moaned around his fingers as he thrust into her in one movement, burying himself to the hilt. Elain clawed at his back while he readjusted her legs around his hips, locking him to her.

Azriel set a brutal pace, using the leverage from her jaw to snap into her.

Elain having been on the precipice of an orgasm, crested just after a few strokes of his cock. Her body shook as he fucked her through it, pulling his fingers from her mouth and replacing them with his lips.

A string of spit followed his fingers, but he didn’t care as he crashed their lips and teeth and tongues together in a bruising kiss.

Yanking himself out of her, he grabbed her off the table and set her back on her feet. Twisting her around, he bent her back over, raising her hips.

Elain felt her release drip down her thighs, and then Az’s fingers stroked through her still-spasming entrance, collecting the slickness and bringing it up to her back hole. She moaned as he fingered her rosebud, head bowing. “Are you going to fuck me there?” she asked, shaky from the intensity of her last orgasm.

“Do you want me to fuck you here, love?” he inquired, voice guttural.

She moaned as one of his fingers slipped inside, gently thrusting in and out of her ass. “Yes.” The word was purely a whine.

Azriel made some deep, throaty sound, leaning over her body to kiss her shoulder. “Such a good girl for me. Letting me do the most sinful things to you.” He bit the junction of her neck, sucking a mark into her skin that had her sighing at the tingling feeling. “One day, I will claim your ass, Elain Archeron,” he all but growled. “But not today. I don’t have the proper equipment with me at the moment for your first time.”

Elain flipped her hair over her shoulder to look at him. “Promise?” she cooed.

A groan rumbled from his chest. “Fuck me, Elain. You will be the death of me someday,” he snarled. “I promise to fuck your ass until you’re limp with pleasure.” Without waiting for a response, he sheathed himself back inside of her, hips snapping into hers until the room echoed their skin slapping skin and heavy breathing.

Her fingers dug into the velvet grass of the table, and when he wrapped her hair around his other wrist, tugging it until she was arched, Elain couldn’t stop the pathetic whimper from escaping her.

“You have the tightest fucking cunt, baby,” he moaned. “Fucking you is like a dream every time.”

She couldn’t even form words to respond; only able to clench around him until he swore.

Picking up his pace, he brushed his lips to the shell of her ear, commanding her to let go.

And let go she did. Screaming, Elain ripped into her pleasure from both his cock and his fingers. Some slur came out of her, though she couldn’t tell if it was his name or just a bunch of sounds jumbled together. It may have been both for all she knew.

Azriel’s thrust became sloppy as he chased his own high. Slamming into her a final time, he came, teeth clamping onto her shoulder over the mark he already made and intensifying it.

They both collapsed onto the table, Az’s weight adding to the table edge that dug into her hips, but she was too far gone into her hazy pleasure to care.

He gave her one more gentle stroke, causing her to whimper before he tugged himself out.

The loss of him had her clenching around nothing, but she felt their combined releases dripping from her convulsing pussy,

His fingers made quick work, swiping the mess up and shoving it back inside of her. “Hold that in for me,” he growled.

She was barely coherent enough to process his words, but she managed to do as he ordered.

“Hang tight,” he murmured, dropping a kiss to her sweat-soaked back.

Truth be told, Elain wasn’t able to move an inch. She was too tired, too sated to even think about getting up off the table. She heard fabric sliding down his legs as he shucked off the rest of his clothing, and then she was being gathered up into his arms and carried up the stairs to the master bathroom.

Azriel gently set her on the counter, making her hiss from the cold porcelain as it touched her heated skin before he set about starting the bath. They stayed in the tub far too long as they slowly made love again in the warm water, Elain riding him and christening yet another room in their new home.

~~~

She woke the following morning before sunrise, internal clock off from the two-hour time difference compared to Velaris. Carefully, Elain slipped from Azriel’s arms, smiling at the grunt of protest he let out. His hands reached out searching for her body. Tugging the sheets up to his shoulder, she went to the dresser and pulled out undergarments to put on.

Grabbing the silk robe he surprised her with, Elain slipped it on, tying it at the waist before quietly closing the bedroom door behind her and making her way downstairs.

She put the coffeepot on, poured herself a mug, and added her creamer that was somehow, already in the fridge. Azriel must’ve had someone come in and stock the fridge with necessities. They had ordered a pizza to be delivered last night, neither having the energy nor desire to go out for dinner after their multiple rounds. They managed to christen the game room, their master bathroom and bedroom, their private balcony under the stars, and the kitchen/dining areas after eating some much-needed food.

Elain perched herself on the couch facing the ocean, tucking her feet under her, as she watched the sunrise in glorious shades of orange, pink, and gold. It was much warmer here than in Velaris at this time. She was perfectly comfortable in her bra, underwear, and silky robe. Elain basked in the warmth and beautiful sights for a good hour before she heard movement upstairs.

Soon enough, Azriel was coming down the stairs bare from the waist up. His grey sweatpants hung deliciously off his cut hips giving her a perfect view of his Adonis belt, defined abdomen, and beautifully swirling ink over his muscled chest and shoulders.

He leaned down and kissed her softly. “You weren’t in bed when I woke. I had plans to give you the proper wake-up call this morning.” His voice was still heavy with sleep, taking on a rasp that had her toes curling beneath her.

“Sorry, my love. My clock is still on Velaris time. Plus, I wanted to watch the sunrise.”

���Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked her curiously.

“Because you don’t get enough sleep as it is. And you looked too peaceful to wake.”

Azriel’s eyes traveled down her form, taking in the robe she wore; how it split at the top revealing much of her chest. He reached down and slipped his fingers into the fabric, parting it even more to see what, exactly, she had on underneath. Those deft fingers gripped the tie and pulled, opening it up for him to see her in another matching lace set. He groaned, head tipping back towards the heavens. “You’re going to kill me in this outfit, El.”

Her nipples hardened at his words and a smirk tugged at her lips. “Perhaps you should take it off, then.”

He sank to his knees in front of her, large, warm hands, gripping her thighs and untangling her legs from underneath her. “Two rounds this morning. I have a lot planned for us and we need to get an early start.”

Surprise lit her face, not having realized he planned a whole day for them. Though, she shouldn’t have been shocked seeing as this entire trip was completely his doing. “What are we doing today?” she asked, sucking in a breath at the heated look in those amber eyes.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he murmured before ripping her panties down her legs and settling between her thighs. “But first, breakfast.” Throwing her knees onto his shoulders, Azriel feasted on her until she was coming on his tongue.

Two hours later, they were dressed, fed—properly this time—and stood outside on the driveway arguing.

“Azriel, I’m not getting on that deathtrap,” Elain said, arms crossed over her chest.

His first surprise of the day was a motorcycle. A fucking motorcycle. She stared at him in disbelief as he tried to coax her onto the back of it.

“El, love, my sweet,” he tried, using nearly every pet name he had for her, “this is the best way to view the city.”

She rolled her eyes at the attempt but didn’t budge. “Do you know how many people show up in the emergency room from a motorcycle accident? How many die from it?”

He sighed. “Those people likely don’t give the vehicle the respect it needs to be ridden—”

“And what about the other people on the road who don’t respect them?” Elain interrupted.

“Do you think I would do anything to put you in danger, Elain? I promise you that you’ll be safe with me on this. Please, just give it a try. I know you’ll love it.”

She hesitated, arms dropping uselessly to their sides. “I’m in a skirt, Az.”

“So? You’ll be pressed into me. Nobody will see a thing.”

After a few moments of them staring at each other, he finally snapped, “For god’s sake, Elain. Get that cute butt on the damn bike so we can get to our next stop on time.”

She narrowed her eyes at him for the words, but it was exactly what she needed to take a hesitant step forward. Then another until she was standing right in front of him and letting him put a helmet on her, snapping the clip under her jaw.

Azriel flicked the visor down over her eyes and guided her onto the bike behind him. “Hold on tight,” he told her, starting the engine.

It roared to life and she wrapped her arms around him, grabbing ahold of his belt and the waistband of his jeans as he gently kicked off the ground and slowly drove out of the driveway and onto the street. Elain squealed, tightening her hold on him as he sped up.

They drove through the city, taking in the sights and all its offerings. She hated to admit it, but he was right. Viewing the city from the back of the bike was incredible. The feeling of the salt air as it whipped at her skin, the glistening ocean to her side, were balms to her soul. She felt free as they rode through the bustling city.

He pulled onto the pier, parked, and shut off the engine before helping her off the bike. Unclipping his helmet, he hung it on the handlebars, then moved to remove hers. A dazzling smile took over his face at the sparkle she knew was shining in her eyes. “How was that?”

Rolling her eyes despite the stupid grin, she lied, “It was awful. I hated it.”

Azriel laughed. “Your face says otherwise, love.”

She giggled, feeling young and carefree. “Fine. It was fun. Exhilarating, even. You were right about it being the best way to take in the city.”

A self-satisfied smirk pulled up the corner of his lips. “I’m thrilled you enjoyed it.” He kissed her, tugging her close to his body. “Come on,” he murmured, grabbing her hand in his. They walked down the pier taking in the sights and sounds of the carnival located at the end.

They shared a cookies and cream milkshake, though Az only had like four sips of it and left the rest for her. Finally, they reached the end of the pier where a giant, modernized Ferris wheel stood.

Elain planted her feet when Azriel tried to tug her forward. “A Ferris wheel? You know I’m terrified of heights.”

That damn smirk appeared on his lips again. “You were also afraid to get on the plane and the motorcycle, but you did. And did you not tell me it was fun just an hour ago?”

“But that was different!” she spluttered.

He crossed his arms, raising a brow into his dark hair. “How?”

She stared at him like a petulant child, but she knew he was right. There wasn’t a difference between her facing those fears and this one.

“I promise you’ll love this. That Ferris wheel gives you the best view of the city. And the ocean. It’s beautiful. Plus, you’re completely enclosed in the glass container, so you have nothing to fear.”

Elain grumbled a “fine,” letting herself get pulled into the line. The pods could hold up to twenty people each, so it took no time in reaching the front.

Handing a wad of cash to the person working, Az told him, “We want this pod to ourselves. That should cover the fee of a full group, plus pay for the twenty people behind us.

The worker and Elain both gaped at him, but it was the kid who was handed the cash that stuttered, “Y—yes, of course, Sir.”

He escorted her into the glass enclosure, letting the doors snick shut behind them. Guiding her to the other side that faced the ocean, Azriel sat her down and took a spot next to her.

It was completely private, not able to see into the one above them or below. And with the bottom half of the glass frosted, they were nearly hidden from anyone at ground level.

Twisting her head, she looked up at the male next to her. “Why did you do that?” Elain took his hand in hers as the wheel started to spin, sending them to the next spot while the pod below them was cleared out and re-loaded.

“Hmm?” he asked, glancing down at her.

“Why did you pay off the kid to give us this entire pod? What was the purpose?”

He leaned over, kissing her cheek. “Because I wanted to experience this moment privately with you. Is that such a bad thing?”

She shook her head, golden-brown hair swishing with the movement. “No, I suppose it’s not. It does make us look like rich assholes, though.”

Azriel tipped his head back and laughed, exposing the strong column of his throat. The ink tattooed upon the base of it. The sunshine enhanced the golden hue of his skin. He looked stunning in the light.

When the ride lurched again, she gripped his hand tighter.

“I also requested it so I could help you through your fear.” He placed his scarred palm on the upper part of her thigh, fingers dangerously close to her center.

“Azriel,” she hissed, trying to close her legs, but was unable to with his grip. “We are in public.”

“Technically,” he started, sliding his hand further between her legs, “we’re in a private pod that nobody can see into.” Gripping her knee, Az hooked her leg over his, spreading her for him.

The next movement had Elain sucking in a breath, releasing his hand, and grabbing at his forearm. Her nails dug into his skin, not that he seemed to mind.

He stroked her over the fabric covering her, doing a 1-2 swoop with two of his fingers. “Relax,” he whispered. The touch had her legs spreading apart, giving him ample room to work. “Close your eyes.”

Her head fell to his shoulder as her body shuddered. A small whimper passed through her parted lips as she did what he said, eyes shutting.

Azriel kept touching her until her underwear was damp and then slid them to the side to plunge his middle finger inside of her. Twisting his body, he threw his arm behind her shoulders, pulling her snuggly against his chest as he worked her, murmuring words of praise into her ear.

“You’re such a good girl, Elain. Look at you, facing your fears with my hand between your thighs.” His lips pressed into her hair, just above her ear. “Fuck my fingers, baby.”

And she did, withering against his hand, desperately looking for the high he was drawing from her. Her hips thrust forward, searching for the friction on her clit. “Az,” she mewled.

His thumb gently pressed down on where she needed it, but he didn’t give her what her body so desperately craved. “Easy, baby. Take it slow.” He drew small, tight circles on her clit, sending bolts of pleasure cascading through her.

She felt it in her fingers, her toes, running up and down her spine.

Lost in her thoughts, in the pleasure she was receiving, Elain stopped thinking about the movement of the Ferris wheel until Azriel breathed, “Open your eyes.”

Somehow, she cracked open one eye and then the other and looked out at the expansive, glittering, blue ocean. Her breath came out in short pants, but she couldn’t deny the beauty of the sight before her.

“Look at you, at the top without a care in the world.” Azriel peppered kisses to her head, and her cheek, twisting her face to meet her lips with his. “My beautiful, strong, sexy girl.”

Her head tipped back against the crook of his elbow. “Az, please.”

He hushed her, curling the finger inside of her. “Soon, baby.” He waited until they started to move again before he really started working her, stroking her so deep that his ridged fingertip grazed the smooth patch of skin that had her moaning. His thumb focused on grazing her clit, adding a delicious amount of friction that finally sent her hurtling over the edge.

Fusing their mouths, Azriel swallowed her cries, helping to cover up the fact that she was orgasming in public and making it seem like they were just making out.

Elain was panting when they reached the bottom and blinked dazed eyes open just as he pulled his finger from her twitching pussy, using his hand to clean her up as best as he could, and then proceeded to suck his digits clean.

“You are filthy, sir,” she managed to get out.

He just smiled greedily down at her. “It’s not my fault I crave you every goddamn minute of the day.” He nodded his head towards the ocean in front of them. “And look. You’re riding now without a hint of fear.”

It was true, she realized, as the Ferris wheel made its second trip around. She had no qualms about looking out or being high in the air. “Sneaky trick,” Elain muttered, pulling her leg from off his lap. “But I am going to need to find a bathroom when we’re finished to clean up.”

A heated look glazed over his darkened eyes. “I could get down on my knees and clean you up with my tongue if you want me to.”

It wasn’t a question and fuck her if she wasn’t tempted to say yes. But they were already at the top and coming back down and knew they wouldn’t have the time. Plus, his head between her legs was more obvious than his hand. “Down, boy. You’re going to get us caught.”

The expression on his face told her he didn’t give a shit about getting caught. Azriel thought she would be the death of him, but boy was he wrong. He would one day kill her with those heated looks and sinful smiles.

“Give me your panties.”

Her face heated. “What?” she squeaked.

He raised a brow imploring her to listen to him.

The fact that she couldn’t say no to him should’ve concerned her, but it only made her ache for him even more. Shakily, she grabbed the hem of her underwear and tugged them off, handing them to him.

Azriel balled the fabric, working quickly to wipe at her center, cleaning her up, and stuffed the garment into his pocket.

She stared at him. “You expect me to go commando?”

He shrugged. “Looks like you have no choice at this point.”

“My skirt is flowy!” she hissed. “Any gust of wind and I will flash everybody!”

“Guess you shouldn’t have worn a skirt—”

“You picked this outfit out…” Realization dawned on her. “You fucker, you planned this!”

“Such language,” he mused. “I should put you over my knee for that.”

Heat rushed between her thighs at the thought and Elain crossed her legs.

That wicked grin spread onto his lips, noticing how his words affected her. “Interesting…”

The look on his face promised sinful delight, something they could not explore with their current predicament. “Let’s get lunch after this,” she said instead, deterring the subject to somewhere safe lest she let him do something incredibly reckless. Moreso than what he just did to her.

He definitely saw the change of direction and let her have it. For the most part. “Perfect,” he purred sounding more like his brother than himself. “I just had the most delicious appetizer.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks, but she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from her chest. “You’re truly wicked, you know that?”

“Very much so, baby,” he grinned.

Oh boy, was she in a lot of trouble with this one.

They were sitting at a café along the edge of the ocean. Getting off the pier had been challenging as the wind whipped around them. Elain ended up gripping her skirt in two handfuls and pinning it against her legs. Azriel, the bastard, smirked the whole way back to the motorcycle but took pity on her when she awkwardly tried to climb onto the back of the bike, helping her tuck her skirts under her legs so it wouldn’t blow. Despite how much he was clearly enjoying this, she knew that Az was very territorial when it came to her and would absolutely not be okay with anyone seeing her naked.

They gorged themselves on seafood, Elain ordering a shrimp scampi and Azriel a seafood medley. They were each nursing a glass of white wine when they heard his name being called.

“Azriel!”

Twisting around, they saw a couple walking towards them. Both the man and woman were stunning, with rich skin tones and strong builds. But what was most striking was their bleached hair color that looked too natural to be dyed. She assumed it was a genetic thing that they both must’ve shared, meaning they likely were related.

Upon closer inspection, Elain noticed that they had similar features that confirmed there was some distant family resemblance. The man, however, had startling turquoise eyes while she had deep brown ones.

“Tarquin,” Azriel greeted, rising out of his seat to shake hands with the man. “Cresseida, it’s nice to see you again.”

Tarquin…the name was familiar… And then it hit her. This was the man whom Azriel had spoken so fondly of. Whom he partnered with for his business.

Her boyfriend indicated to her. “Please let me introduce you to my girlfriend, Doctor Elain Archeron.” She reined in her smile at the whole doctor thing. He really was insatiable. “Elain, this is Tarquin, the owner of Summer Systems, and his cousin who does all the actual work at the company, Cresseida.”

Ah, so she had been right about the family resemblance then.

Tarquin seemed to catch his astonishment at the girlfriend introduction, schooling his features to shake her outstretched hand. “It’s lovely to meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you and your company.”

“Funny,” Cresseida said, her tone of voice a bit sharp. “We had no idea that Azriel had a girlfriend. Or that he was even in a relationship.”

Elain saw it for what it was. A test to see how well she could handle the hostility and function in a role at Azriel’s side. “Yes, well he’s very private. And not one to gloat.”

A snort cut through the tension and her eyes shifted to the man in question, seeing the utter delight in her hazel irises.

“I like her,” Cresseida announced, surprising even her.

Tarquin shook his head at his cousin’s antics. “Since you’re in town, you two should come to the company party tonight. We’re doing a celebration over our partnership. Something I wanted to give the employees for their hard work in getting everything finalized.”

She saw the refute on Azriel’s face, knowing he had told her this was a vacation and not for work.

“I appreciate the offer,” he began, but Elain interrupted him.

“We’ll consider it.”

All three of them looked at her, surprise clear in the raise of Az’s eyebrows.

“Well,” Tarquin began, amused by her outspokenness. “I hope to see you both there. Azriel, I’ll forward you the invite so you have the details.” Clasping hands with her boyfriend, the cousins bid them goodbye.

Once they were alone, Azriel asked her, “I thought we said no work on this trip?”

She shrugged a single shoulder, taking a sip of her wine. “We did, but I thought maybe it could be fun.”

His phone dinged with an incoming message. Glancing down at it, he read the text out loud. “It’s semi-formal.” Meeting her gaze, he smiled. “Looks like we need to go shopping.”

~~~~~

Azriel was pinning his cuff links when Elain stepped out of the closet in the most alluring dress he had ever seen her wear. It wasn’t just the sexy cuts exposing the middle of her torso from the crisscross front, nor the open back and the high slit hitting just below her hipbone. It was the various shades of blue, the most prominent of them being cobalt, his absolute favorite color, despite being partial to wearing black.

She gave him a shy smile. “Can you zip me up?”

The crossed straps zipped between her shoulder blades, and then a second zipper ran from below her ass to just past the swell. The cuts of the dress allowed the cute dimple of her back to show.

Gripping one zipper, he tugged it up and then the second. “You look stunning,” he murmured, kissing the backside of her head.

“Thank you, handsome,” she answered cheekily.

Gods he wanted nothing more than to slowly peel her out of that dress, but he loved seeing her in it too. Shrugging on his suit jacket, he took Elain’s hand, and out they went.

The party was gorgeous, hosted at a restaurant with a large patio area that had been rented for the evening. Twinkly lights were strung across, giving a romantic glow to the air. Dinner consisted of three types of fish, potatoes, and a green salad. It was one of the best dishes he had ever tasted.

Now, he and Elain were slow dancing with a few other couples, her hand in his, head tucked into his chest.

Her fingers stroked the hair at his nape.

“I love you, Azriel,” she whispered, almost as if she was afraid to break the trance that fell over them.

He looked down at her, surprised by the sudden declaration. “I love you too, Elain.” Unable to help himself, he leaned his head down to kiss the top of her head. Even with the heels, she was still several inches shorter than him, the top of her head only coming up to his jaw.

She hummed in contentment, melting further into his embrace.

They danced for a while longer before he asked her if she was ready to leave. He could see the exhaustion that lined her eyes, even if she tried to hide it from him. They made their way over to Tarquin to bid him goodbye.

“I’m glad you two could come. You’re more than welcome to join us or visit anytime.”

Azriel smiled, glancing down at the woman tucked under his arm. “Well, you might just see us more. We’re buying a house here. A summer home for us to vacation at. And to stay when I’m on business.”

Pure delight lit those bright, turquoise eyes. “That’s fantastic! Congratulations to you both. It’s been a pleasure to welcome you into our partnership and get to know you. Both of you.”

“It was great to meet you, as well, Tarquin,” Elain murmured from her sleepy state.

The other man gave him a knowing look. “I’ll let you go so you can get her home. Let me know the next time you visit. I’ll host something at my house.”

“Thanks, Tarquin,” Azriel answered, shaking the man’s hand.

He managed to get Elain into the car, but as soon as it started moving, her eyes drifted shut and she slept the whole way home. Az looked at her peaceful, sleeping form, and thought that he couldn’t wait to ask her to be his wife.

~~~~~

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#i do bad things with you #idbtwy #elriel #elriel month #elriel month 2023 #elrielmonth #elrielmonth23 #elain #elain archeron #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elain x azriel #elain x az #azriel x elain #elain and azriel #azriel and elain #elriel fic #elriel fanfic #elriel fanfiction #tswaney17 #tswaney17fics #tay writes #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

[simpforchuchu]

Can I request part 2 of Love will remember | Yosuke Todoroki x Ebara!reader? It's fine if you can't do it now. We can wait for it. Thank you!!

Love will remember | part2

Prompts: DAY 26 - help them @febuwhump Characters: Todoroki x reader Fandom: High and Low

A/n for this fic: It’s been really very long time but I was keeping this for the challenge and wanted to write this one. Im sorry for being too late but I hope you like it 🥺💜

A/n for prompts: Hello guys! This is my first time trying a prompt challenge. I hope you like the short fics I wrote. I will finish them by writing some of the requests I have. I love you 💜

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: mention of fights and arguments

Part1

Shoji Sameoka was not happy with this alliance. He and his childhood friends were discussing this issue and he was angry about it. He didn't like that shitty bastard at all. He couldn't stand what his friends did just to get revenge on Todoroki.

Y/n, on the other hand, was silently listening to what was happening next to her brother. She didn't need to say where she was today or her history with Todoroki. Shoji didn't know this. But she was wondering what Todoroki was doing.

Todoroki was about to do something they never expected. He stopped in front of the old junkyard and looked inside. He recognized the young girl he saw next to three arguing men as soon as he saw her.

He didn't wait long. He slowly entered the junkyard and looked at his old "friends" who were staring at him in surprise.

Shoji took the young girl behind him as soon as she entered. Todoroki was sure that he was indeed her older brother.

"What are you doing here ?"

Shoji wasn't happy that y/n was here. Y/n, on the other hand, was calm, like she knew what was going to happen.

“I heard you were looking for me.” Todoroki replied. Then he finished his short discussions with an interesting offer.

“If I win, you will withdraw from the alliance.”

His friends quickly objected, but Shoji saw this as a way out of the alliance he never wanted. He accepted without hesitation.

Y/n watched the fight carefully, thinking things were getting interesting. Todoroki took one last look at her before the fight and then turned his attention to the duo in front of him.

Even though it was a difficult fight, Todoroki won. Her brother was as surprised as she was. But what was even more surprising was that Todoroki said he did this for his friends.

After the fight, Todoroki left and a while later y/n left, telling her brother that she was going home.

She soon realized that Todoroki was waiting for her on the road to Oya. She smiled and walked over.

“I was hoping you would wait.”

Todoroki turned his tired gaze to the young girl and shook his head.

“There are so many questions I want to ask, but I have to go.”

Y/n smiled and nodded. She took a small piece of paper from her pocket and gave it to the young boy.

“Your friends… Go and help them. They need you.”

Then she pulled her hand away and shrugged

“We will meet again, I am waiting for you to contact me”

Todoroki knew that there was a phone number written on the paper in his hand, he nodded his head and closed his palm. He watched from behind as the young girl walked away from him.

But Todoroki wasn't the only one watching her, the black-haired boy watching them from behind the wall was shaken by his sister's betrayal...

HnL taglist : @straysugzhpe @tiddly-winx @ninamarie1994 @emperorsnero @koala-yuna @little-miss-naill

#high and low #high&low #high and low fic #hnl #high and low the worst #high and low the worst x #oya high #oyakoh #oya high school #todoroki yosuke x reader #high and low todoroki #yosuke todoroki #todoroki fanfic #todoroki yosuke #todoroki fanfiction #todoroki yosuke fic #yosuke todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shojisameoka #sameokashoji #febuwhumpday26 #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024

[glossolali]

i feel you and your precious soul

shadowidomauk, shadowmauk

hurt/comfort, sci-fi au, cyberpunk au, relationship negotiations, touch aversion/ sensitivity/starvation, essek pov

gift for @wanderingbasilisk 💜

6k

AO3

—

“How are you feeling?”

Molly sits across from Caleb, and both hands, prosthetic and natural, lay in Caleb's outstretched palms atop his knees. Molly flexes the natural one easily enough, but the other is in a tight fist, and he's frowning at it, seemingly frustrated.

At Essek's prompting, he looks up, and it takes him another moment or two to focus his gaze on Essek’s face proper, who stands in the doorway, his own hands clasped together anxiously. Essek is patient and steady as he can, and even if his heart aches for him, he sequesters that away to a private place. He would hate to seem anywhere near pitying of him.

“I'd love to say I'm right as rain, but that is not quite the case.” Molly tries for a smile but it doesn't quite reach his eyes and falls too quickly, and he ends up revealing instead how tired he is.

“Uhm... I'm still numb in some places, and in others, it hurts. And I can't stop twitching since yesterday. This hand,” and he gestures to his left, the mechanical one, “Has been locked in a fist since last night. It usually takes a few hours to unlock on its own, but it seems to be stuck this time.”

Molly's left arm has been jerking intermittently, a clearly uncontrollable motion that shifts his whole body and translates all the way down to his clenched hand, and seems to be bringing him some distress, and pain.

Caleb's eyes follow the motion and turn a shade more somber, though he secrets that away swiftly while Molly is turned around. Essek can almost see Caleb's heart take a tumble and break into pieces as Molly speaks, as upset as he himself feels. Caleb's circuitry scarred hands squeeze Molly’s lightly, then return to their former position where they cupped them.

Essek can't help but feel utterly awful. After all, he's the one that did this to him.

He recalls with a pang the distressed message Caleb had sent him, then Jester's, begging for his help to save their friend, Mollymauk. He'd met the tiefling in passing, finding a chaotic and colorful being who never stayed in one place for long enough for Essek to parse him out properly.

A few days after the Message, the entire Mighty Nein appeared at his doorstep. When they ensured Essek's lab was secure, Caleb fetched what was left of their dear friend's bloody, mangled body from an Amber Vault – a digital, portable safe– and handed that over to Essek, alongside a memory drive that had Molly's mind uploaded to it in a combination of efforts by Caleb and Caduceus.

Essek had been terrified at the responsibility inherent in saving such a precious person's life, but he had done his best to focus on the cybernetics puzzle at hand and to take the anxiety out of his mind. There was no room for mistakes or missteps.

He was successful, much to his relief, and his friends’ collective joy.

The tears and yells as Molly had opened his eyes for the first time rang clear in his memory. The tiefling had startled, covered his ears, and ran from the room– only to collapse in a heap a few steps into the next one.

It wasn't an unexpected sign of failure by any means– the collapse, that is, not the fleeing– after all, Mollymauk’s body was half machine now, and it had yet to be calibrated and tested properly. More specifically, it was costly, state-of-the-art cyberware mods and prosthetics, provided for free of course, connecting what of his ravaged body Essek and his team could salvage.

As a scientist who'd lived through the last hundred and twenty some years watching the world and its technologies develop at an alarming pace, he'd slowly grown more and more doubtful of the ethics of the now normalized practice of cyber modification, or ‘cybermods’. It's even worse that his current patient– ward, friend, whatever their odd relationship now was– hadn't been able to consent to these operations at all.

It made Essek hate himself just a little bit more, made him doubt his work– political and scientific– his family, their wealth, their entire society, his everything, even more deeply, despite how thankful all his friends, and Molly, were in the aftermath of that incident.

“Essek?”

Molly's voice has now taken on a subtle digital tone to it due to his voice-box being modded, and in addition, he sounds… lost, exhausted. Nothing like the person he once was.

Essek tries not to wallow right now. That can be for later, when he's done his job and is alone once again.

“My apologies. Just thinking.”

He goes to them. A person he is helping take care of needs his care right now. He has a function to serve, and that is the priority.

[Read the rest on AO3]

#shadowidomauk #shadowmauk #widomauk #shadowgast #essek #molly #caleb #cr fic #critical role fanfic #critical role fic #scifi au #cyberpunk #glossopost #glossofic

[halfmoth-halfman]

the willow maid

Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x F!Reader Word Count: 5.2k Warnings: implied smut, blood, death, loss, bittersweet ending Prompt: Fairytale!AU & “It was the biggest mistake I ever made.” & the song, the willow maid by erutan Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: here it is!!! the final fic for @glitterypirateduck’s GazFest 2023!! i hope you guys had as much fun with gazfest as i did!!! and thank you to the amazing glitterypirateduck for putting it all together!!!!! 💜

The tavern is nestled on the far edge of town, a barely held-together building run by an even more decrepit barkeep. Half resting on the edge of the forest, half consumed by the rich greenery, vines and roots split through the walls and upend the cracking cobblestones around it. The windows are covered in a layer of dust, door hanging on by a single bolt, entrance covered in years of muddy boot prints. Every imperfection is only amplified under the light of the early morning sun.

They’re given bread while they wait, circled around the lopsided table pressed up against the clean window, and MacTavish is the only one brave enough to try it. It’s good, if a bit off in a way he can’t fully describe; it’s sweet and light, but there’s a bitterness lurking on his tongue when he swallows.

The ale arrives and, with it, their long-awaited companion. 

He’s quiet, Simon notices. There are only two other people in this tavern, a shifty-eyed child with no shoes and fidgeting hands and a cloaked figure lying with their head on the bar, but Simon hadn’t seen their newfound friend approach. It sets him on edge, more than usual.

(It had been MacTavish who found him, bursting into the inn they'd been staying at with a wide grin and a piece of torn parchment. 

“Got a lead on the flower,” he’d said, handing Price the scrap to let him examine the hastily drawn map. “Met a man who claimed t’ have seen th’ bloom himself. Said to meet him there in three days’ time, jus’ after sunrise.”

Price had been skeptical, but it’d been weeks since their last lead dried up, and their gold was beginning to run low.. Desperate times, and all that.)

MacTavish told them everything he knew about his mysterious contact, but they hadn’t expected him to be so young. 

Barely a year older than MacTavish, the man sits across from them with a polite smile and his hands clasped on the table where everyone can see them. 

Everything about him is dark. His skin, his hair, his eyes. Even his cloak is a deep plum material, unpatterned and plain.

There’s nothing particularly special about him at first glance, but they know something’s not quite right about this man.

He’s too…clean, too put together. There’s no mud on his boots, no signs of hardship or travel, and his clothes are too purposefully plain despite the high quality of the stitching. His movements are too practiced, too elegant, as he takes a slice of bread and fills his cup with manners befitting someone of a far higher station. There’s not a mark or scratch on him, save for the single scratch across is left cheek. 

This man is not what he seems.

“Your friend tells me you’re looking for the Willow’s Wail,” the man speaks, polished, measured, curious.

The three straighten at the mention of the flower. 

It was supposed to be a myth, an old wives tale to tell your children when you put them to sleep. A story about a powerful Fae and a cunning boy who outfoxed her, obtaining a single seed from her garden as a reward. 

But the boy, in his excitement at besting the Fair Fae, didn’t notice he’d dropped the seed just before leaving the fae realm. When the boy finally realized and returned to retrieve it, it was too late. The seed had fallen on the wrong side of the barrier between his world and theirs and he was forced to watch it grow until it bloomed a beautiful, glowing white. 

The boy had one night to admire its beauty before its petals began to fall and the flower wilted. The wind carried the drifting petals, spreading them far and wide to bloom across the mortal realm. The boy was lucky enough to catch one, and it was said that the magic from that single petal granted the boy his heart's desire.

There were countless names for it. 

Moondrop. Angel’s Kiss. Ghostheart. Star Rose.

It changed over the centuries, varying region by region, along with the story, but the details stayed the same.

A glowing, white flower that blooms for one night with enough potent magic in a single petal to keep you safe and sated for the rest of your life.

So many had claimed to have seen it, to have picked an entire bloom and reveled in its sweet scent. How many of the rich and mighty claimed to have one hidden in their vaults? How many urchins kept themselves going with the hope of one day finding a bloom, and pulling themselves from poverty? 

How many rumors had their own merry little group chased, claiming to know where to find a moondrop or angel’s kiss or ghostheart?

Though, Simon’s never heard someone refer to it as the Willow’s Wail before. 

“You know where to find one, I take it?” Price asks. The man nods through a mouthful of bread, taking a sip of the spiced honey ale before he answers.

“Not just where to find it,” he hums, picking at the crust of his bread. “I know how to grow one.”

That’s new.

There have been plenty who claimed to have found a petal. Even some who’ve said they’ve made their own deal with the Fae from the story.

But there’s never been someone who claimed to have a seed before.

The man says it so casually, Simon is almost inclined to believe him. 

“S’pose ye’ll be wantin’ a trade for it?” MacTavish chuckles, already bracing himself for what will either be an absurd amount of coin or a request for a near-impossible task. 

“Of sorts,” the man shrugs.

Simon does not like this, and one glance at Price tells him that the older man feels the same. 

Price folds his arms across his chest, metal bracers clinking against his chest piece. “What’s your price?”

“A story,” the man simply says. 

“You want us to tell you a story?” Even through the shrouded mask, the disbelief is clear in Simon’s voice.

This has to be a trick. The man is clearly a swindler, wasting their time to get a free meal.

“Quite the opposite,” the man laughs. “I’d like to tell you a story. One about how I came across this flower, and, if you manage to make it to the end, I’ll tell you how to grow the flower for yourselves.”

The trio shares a look of wary skepticism, knowing they all share the same thought. Something isn’t right here. It can’t be this simple, this easy. Not when they’ve spent months exhausting every resource, every contact–from officials in the high courts to the lowest of street urchins–available only to come up empty-handed. 

This man is bold, brazen, and a liar. On that, they can all agree.

But there’s something about the way he’s so casually confident in his words. Something simmers just beneath the surface with this man. Something strange. Something…sad. 

He may not be telling the truth about the flower, but they’re sure he has some information that could be valuable to them. 

Price looks to the other two, brows raised in question. Simon and MacTavish each give him a single, reaffirming nod.

“Alright,” Price sighs, leaning back in his crooked chair. “Tell us your story, Mr…”

There’s an awkward pause when Price realizes MacTavish never gave him this man’s name, made only more awkward when MacTavish’s eyes widen as he realizes he doesn’t know the name, either. 

The man takes it in stride, a soft chuckle as he tells them, “Garrick. Kyle Garrick.”

An old name. A rich name. A name written in royal histories about the first kings. 

The name of a family that’s been dead for over a century. 

There’s a hum around the table, a low buzz that sinks deep into their bones and weighs down their limbs. 

Kyle sets his plate aside, staring them down with a toothy grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. Something flashes across his face, a brief flicker of silver barely caught in the sunlight. There are no words spoken, but they all know–

They are trapped here. 

“We’ll start with something familiar, then,” Kyle hums, sharp eyes sliding over to MacTavish. The look of someone who’s obtained a victory. 

“Once upon a time…”

-

…There were no kings or queens to rule over the land. 

No kingdoms, or even cities. 

There was simply the Village and the Forest.

It was a simple exchange, a simple harmony between the two. The Forest would provide food, lumber, livestock, and protection so that the village could thrive, and the villagers would take only what they needed. No more, no less. 

The villagers did not ask where these things came from. They did not demand to know the name of their benevolent caretaker. They said their thanks, made their offerings, created festivals to celebrate their Forest.

They were grateful.

Until the night of the full moon, when a young man, drunk from a week of celebrating the harvest, wandered into the trees. It had been a dare, a test of bravery from the woman whose hand he sought. 

“Name your price, and I swear to you, I’ll provide it!” the man had foolishly declared, loud enough for all of his friends to hear. 

The woman had no intention of marrying him, desperate to be rid of his affections as she preferred another, richer man. She smirked at him, nose high in the air as she told him, “I’ll take your hand and name, but three things you must bring me. First, a ring made from the brightest star in the sky. Second, a dress sewn from the silk of the sea spider queen that resides in the lake–”

Already an impossible task, a joke made of the proposal and the man. 

But the woman was not finished, her grin cruel as she spoke her final request, “And last, a cloak made from the hide of the rarest creature to dwell in the Forest.”

Where there had been laughter, silence now loomed. 

To go into the Forest…

It had never been done, an unspoken rule passed down through generations. They were only meant to take, to thank, to leave. Never to enter. 

But the man would not be deterred, a dangerous mix of love and liquid courage coursing through his veins. 

He turned on his heels, picked up his bow, and marched straight into the Forest.

It didn’t take long for the noises of the village to fade behind him, and the world to grow dark. The trees were too thick for the moonlight to reach, plunging him into unfamiliar darkness. 

But the man would not be discouraged. He pressed forward, walking until his legs shook and the drink wore off, determined to find his rare creature. 

And a rare creature he did find. 

After hours in the black of the Forest, the man heard a voice. A sweet song, drifting through the leaves to reach down into his very soul. He felt light, the pain in his muscles fading as it lured him deeper and deeper and deeper. 

–Into the very heart of the Forest. 

A weeping willow larger than any tree he’d ever seen resting in a ring of red toadstools. So large was it, it broke the canopy of the Forest, its weeping white blooms glowing in the pale moonlight. Soft petals and catkins drifted in the gentle breeze, littering the pale blue grass beneath his feet. 

And there, in the gold of its branches laid her. 

Skin textured like bark, clothed in a dress of draping pale petals, hair so long it wound high into the branches, the Willow Maid sang into the warm, night air. 

Entranced by her voice, her beauty, her presence, the man abandoned his bow. His proposal forgotten, he stepped forward eager to hear more of the maiden’s song. 

Unable to keep his arms from her ethereal form, he unwittingly stepped over the threshold of toadstools. A gust of wind carried the last of her song, as she turned in her branches to stare down at him.  

A piercing gaze, ever-shifting through the colors of the rarest gems. She watched him, staring into him, around him, through him. 

Cautious. Curious.

So overcome by her beauty was he, the man spoke without thought, “Fair Willow Maid, I would seek forgiveness for interrupting your lovely song.”

A dangerous thing, to be indebted to her, but the man did not care.

“Then my forgiveness is granted,” she said, voice echoing in the drifting of leaves and waves of the grass. “But it is not forgiveness which brought you to my willow bed. You seek the hand of a woman. A love to be bought and born of my demise.”

“A hide,” he corrected, flinching under her accusation. “Of the rarest creature to dwell in this Forest.”

“What is rarer than the Forest’s own master?”

The man could not answer, stunned by this revelation. 

Master of the forest, of beasts, and of men. And he had sought to kill her for a love unrequited. 

“You will return to the object of your desires, a failure. My hide is mine own, and I will not allow it to be taken by a love-sickened hunter.”

Foolish and guilty the man may have been, but he was also clever, and a solution quickly came to his mind. 

He could not return with the hide, but that did not mean he had to return empty-handed.

“Come with me, dear maiden,” he called into the branches. “Come from thy willow bed, and meet those who would worship at your feet.”

There was no anger in her, no offense at the thought she would be so vain as to want of worship, but instead peace. 

Calm. 

Serenity. 

A gentle, pitying smile, her voice soft as the moonlight, “I cannot leave this place, daring hunter. Instead, I may present you with a parting gift.” 

The winds shifted, drooping branches caressed his face. 

The man blinked and found himself at the Forest’s edge, staring out at the sun rising over his village with his bow in hand. Around his neck hung a locket of pure gold, a glowing white willow carved into the center.

“I give you this gift,” her voice drifted into his ears, faint and distant. “Proof that you have been blessed by my forest. You may return if you’d like, but I warn you. Don’t ask me to follow where you lead.”

-

Kyle pauses to take a drink, his attention elsewhere long enough for their limbs to loosen slightly. 

“Tha’s quite the tale ye have,” MacTavish says once he regains control of his mouth. 

“So, the flowers are Fae magic,” Price hums. “Guess the stories were right about that.”

“More than you’d think,” Kyle sighs, a bitter chuckle as he sets down his cup. 

“Forests are all cut down and contained now,” Simon says, cold, calculating eyes kept on Kyle. 

“Aye, and th’ Fae Folk are all but gone,” MacTavish adds. There’s a grimace on Kyle’s face, a flinch that he covers by pretending to rub at his eyes. 

“The flowers must be left over from the willows, then?” Price deduces, his head tilted towards their storyteller. Kyle shrugs, with a noncommittal nod that sets off alarms in Simon’s head. 

“Where did you hear this story?” the masked mask asks. “We’ve heard all of the tales, the bedtime stories, the songs. Yet, I don’t think we’ve ever heard of a Willow Maid.”

“Very few have,” Kyle says simply. “For good reason.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you?” Simon scoffs. “A man we hardly know, telling a story no one else has heard of, about a flower that might not even exist.” He looks to Price, the request clear in his eyes.

This is a waste of time. We should leave.

“The deal wasn’t for you to believe me.” Kyle’s voice is sharp, a dangerous edge laced across the tight smile on his face. “The deal was for you to listen.”

The word hisses from his mouth, and Simon feels his muscles tighten painfully. MacTavish groans next to him, and Simon knows he and Price are feeling the same. A weight holds them down, keeps them in their chairs, unable to move or look at anything other than Kyle. 

Kyle simply smiles.

“If I may continue?”

-

…The village had hailed him a hero.

To have gone into the Forest, and emerged with its blessing? There was no higher achievement, no feat more accomplished. 

They showered him in gifts, in favors, in endless wealth. 

The woman whose hand he sought all but threw herself into his arms, so proud to accept his proposal now. 

Yet, he denied it all. He did not want gold nor gems nor silks. He did not care if he had the biggest house, the fattest livestock, the fullest larder. 

His heart’s true desire rested in the heart of the Forest, nestled safely in her tree. 

He visited the Willow Maid often, disappearing into the Forest trees for weeks at a time. Others tried to follow him, tried to gain the Forest’s favor just as he had. All but him were spurned, led into the depth of the trees only to be twisted and turned and led back to where they had started. 

The woman he once sought grew so green with jealousy, she marched into the Forest promising to find what had stolen his affections with a sharp knife and bundle of matchsticks. She never returned, and the Forest refused to provide until the man visited again to apologize on the village’s behalf.

They stopped following him after that.

The man was not bothered, content to be left alone with his Willow Maid. He enjoyed his time, resting in the shade of her tree, listening to her sing or telling her tales from his childhood. He spoke with her, laughed with her, learned about her and her Forest and her creatures. 

Years passed, and his visits grew. He had befriended her, treasured her, loved her. 

And she loved him in return.

The village was alight with rumor and speculation when the man walked into the Forest, dressed in his finest with a bundle of fresh sunflowers in hand. 

Unwavering faith. Admiration. Sincerity. 

To love until the end. 

A proposal with the highest affections.

He stood beneath her willow and wrapped the flowers in the moonlit branches. They carried the fresh blooms to his love, his declaration loud for all of the Forest to hear–

“You’ve captured my heart, my sweet Willow Maid. With your Forest’s blessing, I would be honored to be your groom.”

She smelled the sunflowers, cradling them in her arms like the most precious of gifts. She released them to the branches, watching them drift high into the willow, out of her sight and out of his. 

The wind whispered across his cheek, blossoms shrouding the maiden before she appeared before him at the base of the tree. He took her into his arms, holding her close against him. Everything about her was perfect, the velvet soft petals of her gown, the radiating warmth of her skin, the smell of ambrosia in her hair. 

There would be no other for him, in this life and every life.  

His heart was completely hers, just as hers was his. 

“My dear, darling hunter,” she spoke, her hands a soft caress on his cheeks. “I can wed you never. Not near, nor far, nor soon.”

A heart-shattering rejection that would have ruined him for love eternally had she not looked so mournful. So regretful.

“Why?” he begged. “What is it that keeps you from me?”

A hand on his heart, the other on her tree he feels the pulse–the life–thrum through her fingertips. “I told you, I cannot leave this place.” 

He grasped her hand in his, his voice a sweet murmur as he gave her his solution. “Then don’t.”

A long-awaited kiss, and an even longer-awaited night possessed by the feel, the touch, the love of one another. A promise of dedication, of ever-lasting love. Whispers sewn into the infinite roots of her willow.

They rested against her tree after, pressed against one another as she traced along his chest, a glowing willow forever marked over his heart. 

“The Forest is not your home, my lovely hunter, and I would not be so cruel as to bind you to it. You may come and go as you please. I will always be here, awaiting your visits, but you cannot ask me to follow where you lead.”

A plea unheard, falling deaf on sleeping ears. 

-

The barkeep comes to refill the ale, and the pressure releases as Kyle thanks him with a smile. 

“This is startin’ to sound…personal,” MacTavish jokes, and Price is thankful for the man’s sharp eyes and unrestrained tongue. 

Kyle murmurs something they don’t catch, lips quirking up at the corners. 

“Perhaps it is,” he shrugs. There’s something playful in his tone. Mischievous. As if he's proud of their keen attentions. 

“Laying with the Fae’s an awfully bold thing to do, but promising yourself to one?” Price lets out a low whistle. 

“Foolish, more like,” MacTavish chuckles. 

It wasn’t unheard of. There were stories of humans being whisked away in the night to live a life of comfort and luxury among their Fae lovers. They were mostly fairytales, told to satisfy young children and hopeless romantics, as most of those who’d grown already knew of the dangers of the Fae. 

They knew the true nature of the Fae, and that a mortal’s comfort often went hand in hand with servitude. Wealth and luxury were rewards for proper entertainment and could be stripped away at a moment’s notice. The Fae were as cruel as they were kind, and their promises were not to be taken lightly. 

“Maybe a little of both,” Kyle hums. “Love makes fools of even the best of us.”

“I’ll drink t’ tha’!” MacTavish laughs, and the pressure in his limbs loosens enough to allow him to toast his cup against Kyle’s. 

“So,” Simon speaks up, flexing his hands as a test of mobility. When he’s given range, he leans back his chair, one hand resting around his cup. “What happened next?”

There’s something mournful in Kyle’s smile. A pained regret they very easily recognize. 

They’ve all known that sting of loss.

“What happened next…”

-

…It was the tree.

The willow–her willow–kept her bound to the Forest, away from her love. She had tried everything in her power to make it see reason, to let her wander from its ring of toadstools.

She made offerings, formed new creatures to take her stead, begged at its roots. 

It denied her every time. 

The man tried to stay with her, but I–he could not thrive in the moonlight alone. He could not live off of Forest’s magic as she could. He had to return to the village.

They were resigned to spend their years as often apart as with each other. Not a moment together was wasted. Their joinings were beautiful–soft and tender and full of love–and their partings were miserable. They mourned in their time away, grief-stricken and sick with yearning for their other half. 

Five years of this unending misery, and the man had had enough. 

He stormed through the forest, a fury of determination. The trees parted for him, in fear of the sharpness of his eyes and of the axe in his hands. 

He was going to take his faerie—his wife—and free her from her prison. They were going to be happy together, raise their children together, live their lives together as they were meant to.

He did not waste time when he reached the clearing, did not give her warning before his first swing. 

The roots sprung forth, ripping through the earth to lash at the hunter, striking across his face to draw blood from his cheek. 

Still, he did not stop.

Neither did the tree.

The Willow Maid dove from its branches, shielding her hunter’s body with her own, taking the strike in his place. 

The willow halted its assault, axe planted firmly in its trunk. 

She stumbled to her feet, the split across her back dripping into the pale grass, staining its blades a shimmering gold. She stepped a sure foot forward, crushing the toadstools beneath her bare feet, and took the axe in hand. 

The echoes of her wailing melted into the cracking of the wood. 

The cry of her willow as it fell would haunt the forest for a millennium. 

She collapsed into sobs, but it was not for her willow that  she cried. She cradled the bloodied body of her poor, dear hunter close to her chest. Hair falling around them, its long tendrils soaked by the sweet smelling blood-sap oozing from her tree. 

She wept. 

For him, for her, for their freedom and love. 

She wept. 

Her willow personified. 

She waited until he was strong enough to stand, to face her, to hold her. A kiss over the cold corpse of her once caretaker. 

He led her back through the forest, hand clasped tightly around hers, ready to bring her home. His home, her home, their home. 

When they came to the forest edge, she gasped at the sight of the village. The burning orange sunset streaked across the fields, the speckle of lights from their windows against the darkening land, the sound of cheer and laughter and freedom. 

Her smile was bright enough to rival the stars, eager to start her new life with her love eternal.

Two steps past the forest edge.

That was as far as she got.

Two steps beyond the threshold and her knees buckled beneath her. Her hunter held onto her, lowering her into the warm grass. Her body seized in his arms, barkskin peeling and flaking into thin wood chips. Cheeks sinking in, hair thinning into long blades of grass, petal clothes wilting against her body. 

She pawed at his face, eyes wild with fear and confusion. Her whimpers and wordless pleas broke his heart, begging every god he could think of to fix his sweet Willow Maid. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

She was supposed to be safe. They were supposed to be happy. Together. 

He felt her fade, her body melting in his arms, and a shrieking lament tore from his throat as he lost his one and only love, left with only her dim golden blood sliding through his fingers. 

The sun set, the moon taking its place high in the sky. 

The wind whispered across his skin, a fresh sting against the cut on his cheek, carrying with it the voice of her fallen willow. 

“You’ve stolen from me that which is most precious. Don’t you know that pain you sow is pain you reap?”

The Forest murmurs, trees rustled in the growing moonlight. Shimmering silver growing and growing from the dense woods, until it was almost blinding. 

“You have taken but you have not given in return, and so I make this trade instead. I will take from you what you took from me.”

The golden blood began to glow on his hands, glow on the ground, glow in the moonlight, light rising and rising and rising. It skimmed petal-soft across his hands, slinking into the grass where the dirt drank and digested it. 

There was shouting from the village as the lights crescendoed into one final, blinding beam then faded entirely. Everything was left in muted, dull tones as if the color was stripped from the world, the Forest silent and still for the first time since its conception. 

He knew that the Forest would provide for them no longer. 

All that remained was a beautiful, glowing flower. A moon-white blossom, a cruel reminder of what he had done.

The earth rumbled beneath his feet, one last biting sentence from the willow. 

“You can not take from the Forest what was never meant to leave.”

-

Kyle finishes his tale with a sigh of longing. 

“It was the biggest mistake I ever made,” he says, eyes cast down at the table. 

“A cruel lesson,” Price laments, eyes full of sympathy for the young man.

“And one repaid in blood,” Kyle sighs grimly. He takes a deep swig, setting his cup aside as the pressure lifts entirely from the group across from him. 

“The flower wilted by morning, taken from me forever, and I…did not respond kindly. I took up arms against the Forest’s creatures, hunted them to near extinction, and cut down every tree in sight. The magic was gone, but my people rejoiced. They named me Garrick, Spear King.”

The table goes still. 

They’ve heard of the Great Spear King. There’s not a soul alive who hasn’t. The story of how he founded the kingdoms, brought the world to rule under one benevolent ruler, was taught to every child, passed on through every generation. 

There were holidays named for him. Parades in his honor. 

Respects paid to his burial chambers every year. 

Kyle watches the realization wash over them, the skepticism, the caution. He stands from the table, a small gesture out the window. 

“The ruins of my village lie a tenday’s walk in that direction. Just beyond the flooded river, in a deep valley. There are remnants, sometimes, when the moon is brightest. You may not get everything you wished for, but there is power in that soil.”

“And that’s what the others found? Is it truly soil that they keep hidden in their vaults? Is it dirt that they credit their wealth and power to?” Simon scoffs.

“If it is, it’s not from the Fae,” Kyle shrugs. “There’s nothing left of their magic in this world. I made sure of it.”

“Then, why tell us?” MacTavish questions. The once-king shrugs again, adjusting the fastening of his cloak. 

“Curiosity? Boredom? Or perhaps, I just wanted someone to know the truth, and you lot seemed trustworthy enough.”

It should be a compliment, the highest honor given from the man who founded their nation, but it feels…sad. 

“I wish you luck, travelers. It is a rare day indeed that I find myself so open to sharing secrets.” 

Kyle doesn’t wait for them to say their goodbyes, or say anything really. He gives them a curt nod, and turns to head up the stairs to the tavern’s second floor. 

-

They wait until nightfall to leave, making their way down the path under the shroud of darkness.

Kyle watches from the window of his room, sitting tucked in the windowsill. His cloak abandoned on the uneven bed, he smooths his thumb over the well-worn metal of the locket around his neck. The tree’s glow is dim, barely noticeable unless he cups his hands around it, but it’s there.

He waits until the trio fades from his vision, shifting against the rotting wood to sit up straight. The moonlight casts its shine down through the foggy panes, but it’s enough light to satisfy him. 

Pressing his fingers into the sides of locket, he holds it under the light as it opens with a soft click. 

Petals burst from the seams, throwing the locket open to release a beautiful, bountiful white bloom. The flower soaks up the moonlight, waves of golden light pulsing over its velvet petals.

For one moment, he is that young man again, no longer carrying the burden of loss in his eyes, or the torment of a man who has been granted the curse of eternal life. 

He presses a tender kiss to the flower. “I’ve missed you, my love.”

The flower glows just a bit brighter.

#gazfest #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz #mw fics #moth writes #tw: blood #tw: death #tw: loss #private

[14dayswithyou]

Reddie: I can’t help but imagine living with you years from now.

Teva: Please don’t let this be temporary.

Soft spot prompts | No longer accepting !!

Born to say "💗💖💕💗I love Reddie💕💖💗💕"... forced to say "I enjoy Teo"....... T_T /j

Under a "read more" because I wrote a whole novel????? teehee

001.

"Yeah? We livin' in a Hot Topic store together?"

While it was meant in jest, the dark-haired man couldn't stop his mind from drifting to bittersweet thoughts of 'what if...?'.

Bitter, because it was impossible to think that Eddie would ever find the man tolerable — let alone interesting enough to stick around for. And sweet, because despite it all, anything that had to do with Eddie always manages to pull at his heartstrings and make him stumble over his words.

I can imagine it too, Ren thinks, easily imagining the two of them in a quaint house near the city. Close enough for Eddie to visit his twin whenever he'd like, but far enough away from all the fucked up memories that haunted them both. Besides, Ren never needed anything in that hellscape of a place anyways. He already found his home in Eddie.

But the words that left his mouth were something entirely different.

"It's not a bad idea, the Hot Topic thing." He turns away then, though his pinky doesn't stray far from Ed's. "Maybe it'll stop me from borrowing your jackets all the damn time."

Liar. He liked the smell of Eddie too much.

002.

He's on his phone again, doing everything he can to distract himself from the woman currently occupying the right side of his bed. It was hard to ignore the way Diva's manicured nails idly traced over his snake tattoo, but it was even harder to ignore the fact that he felt a million miles away from her in that moment.

And it was all his fault.

What started as a casual hookup soon turned sour. It was only supposed to be a one-off thing; he'd treat her to dinner, bed her, and then leave the next morning — and Diva knew that too. But somehow... Something changed along the way. He started paying attention to her; seeing her in places where he shouldn't. Lipgloss stains on his pillows. Glitter on his shirts. Marks on his chest. Green press-on nails in his car. Eyebags from staying up all night texting her. A void in his heart that only seemed to fill whenever she was around.

Teo was getting attached to Diva and he knew it. He wasn't one to get feelings involved, yet he could do little to ignore the burning sting of envy whenever he'd listen to Diva talk about someone else.

When she slowly started to turn into someone else.

Green nails that were now purple. A custom Luis Vuitton bag that was switched out for a Hello Kitty ita backpack instead. A blurry lockscreen of his shadow now replaced by a carefully made art piece in her likeness. Her most recent texts going from T💚 to KK💜.

With a sigh, Teo finally acknowledges Diva's presence. He doesn't dare look at her, knowing fully well that she'd be sporting those soft, sparkly eyes that he just can't seem to say 'no' to. And so, he throws his phone somewhere on the bedside table and leans in close enough to press a kiss against her jaw — but not before pulling away with cold eyes and an even colder heart.

"It was never permanent in the first place, was it?"

#Me lovingly kissing Reddie: 💕💕💕💕 #Me violently shaking Teva: 😾😾😾😾 #In typical me fashion; I shan't be proofreading this because it involves T*o <3 #💌 — answered. #💖 — about ren. #💖 — about teo. #💖 — 14 days with queue. #prompt tag pending #reddie tag pending #teva tag pending #My tags?? Gone like my sanity after writing THE MOST for Teo T_____________T #(/j I love teva with all my heart)

[ghost-adventures-imagines]

Silent treatment

*requested*

For: @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog

Prompts: #17 & #33

Aaron Goodwin x reader

~~~

There was a time where you wouldn’t even dream of asking Aaron to take a different career path.

As proud as you were of Aaron, you worried of the gut instinct feeling that his career was pulling your relationship of two years apart in slow motion. You just didn’t notice it until after Aaron had come earlier than planned when he had gone to investigate the Winchester Manson with the crew back in San Jose, California.

Ever since than, you watched and feel as Aaron seemed to be becoming more distant and even cold towards you. You tried sitting him down to talk about it, but he was stubborn and didn’t listen, wouldn’t listen to you and that did hurt a lot. You felt that you were running out of options on ways to get to the bottom of things and it wasn’t long before you couldn’t take anymore of it and had actually made arrangements to meet Zak at a coffee shop to talk about Aaron. This felt strange to do, but you didn’t know what else to do, you didn’t want to breakup. Breaking up was not an option in your book, it never will be.

During your time with Zak, you both decide to try and talk to Aaron together. That almost turned out disastrous, half of it turned into a screaming match, everyone yelling at each other and saying things no one meant at all. But when Aaron brought up the topic of breaking up, you couldn’t handle it anymore as more things have been said. Zak seemed to be surprised yet disappointed when Aaron suggested breaking up.

“Are you kidding me, Aaron?”

“I don’t think so.” he admits to you.

“Do you really think breaking up will do us, or anyone else good?”

Aaron only glared at you.

“Aaron, you can’t do this, you can’t shut me out. Please don’t shut me out.” you plea with him.

That was the end of it.

Talking to Aaron obviously hadn’t worked as you hoped it would.

All of this could have been left behind in the past, but Aaron was being difficult and wouldn’t let you in. You were upset and decided not to talk to him for the following days ahead. It’s not that you weren’t doing this to purposely hurt Aaron, you just wanted him to see what you were seeing. It seemed to have worked, giving Aaron the silent treatment actually brought him back to his senses and he didn’t like or appreciate your silence. That’s when he knew how badly he must have messed up, and had become determined to make it up to you.

Aaron convinced Zak to help him out on that, they put their heads together and had the idea that Aaron should gift you with something special. They had gone to the store after Aaron mentioned that there was a piece of jewelry that he knew you had been eyeing to Zak while you stayed home, unaware of what was about to happen. Aaron decided to get you that heart shaped pendant necklace along with (f/c) dozens of roses. Once he had everything, they had gone back to your house to find you, which wasn’t hard. When Aaron walked into your shared home, he found in the kitchen, preparing a meal. He walked in with the gift bag and flowers, not knowing this was going to be the first time you talk to him in days.

“Do you want any of this?” you ask, gesturing to the meal you were preparing.

“Actually, no. I have something for you.”

Aaron hands the gift bag over to you and as you open it, you couldn’t help but gasp, pulling the heart shaped pendant necklace you had been wanting.

“It reminded me of you.”

A smile was brought to your face, light up the room and moods.

You almost didn’t know what to say, so you decide to tease him a little.

“Is this your way of trying to be apologetic? Because you need to try harder.” you tease.

You were only kidding.

But when he presented the (f/c) roses to you, you were shocked.

“You shouldn’t have. I forgive you, though.”

Since than, your relationship has been improving.

It was all okay now.

~~~

Thank you for requesting!!! 💜

#aaron goodwin #ghost adventure x reader #ghost adventures #ghost adventures imagines #zak bagans #aaron goodwin imagines #ghost adventures imagine #requested #requests #request

[alexanderlightweight]

How's it going? I saw the huge amount of prompts you got last week, and while the reader inside of me feels ecstatic to be able to read so much of your work, please let us know if it ever gets to be too much?

The prompt I had in mind (if it doesn't work for you no biggie, just ignore this ask) would actually fit in a lot of the 'verses you already made before.

I would love to read about Jace and Izzy suddenly realizing what their malicious callousness has cost them. No more big brother/parabatai to spoil them, to protect them, to take on the repercussions of their actions. Then, when that has truly sunk in, let them have a look at Clary and doubly realize that that is what they gave him up for.

Again, if this prompt doesn't feel up your alley, just let me know. I have a one-word backup prompt if need be 😉💜🖤💜🖤

your concern and worry is so sweet and i appreciate it! it's actually going very well, I am definitely going to take care of myself because I'd much rather enjoy myself and have continued writing wednesday's for a very long time rather than burnout and close prompts so I'm taking it carefully. Today because there are so many prompts and tumblr keeps shuffling the order, I'm also changing the way I answer prompts to random which makes it easier!

hahaha no i loved it. i absolutely loved the complexity of figuring out where to go with this prompt it and i really enjoyed writing it. because you're right, it could be a lot of different fics but i think the one that sinks into the hilt, is Izzy coming to that realization in the deruned fic after Maryse' leaves.

(also in Jace's defense he had a piece of his soul torn out, he's very much still in partial shock and not processing stuff very well)

thank you <3

lumine

-

“Why didn’t you stop her?” Clary croaks and she sounds small and hurt in a way that Izzy knows Jace normally rushes to soothe. Izzy normally tries too, but they’re both too numb.

“What?” Izzy finds herself asking, confused as she finally turns from the direction her mother left. “Sorry, Clary. What?”

“You should be sorry! She’s your mother and you just let her hold me and threaten me? Threaten my mother? What is wrong with you people that you’re all like this? Of course it runs in the family. God, you and Jace are the only normal ones. Shadowhunters are psychos.”

Izzy hears the crack of bone against bone before she even realizes she’s struck. Clary is on the floor, holding her cheek in shock and staring up at Izzy in horror. 

“My brother was right.” Izzy finds herself saying helplessly, “you’re nothing but trouble. We should never have helped you. Never have listened to you, by the Angel, we should never have trusted you.” Izzy can feel the tears she’s been holding back threaten to fall and she’s trying to hang onto her composure but in the face of her mother’s rage-fueled devastation, she can’t. “You even admitted you didn’t care if any of us died to find your mother. I told myself it was grief, that it was just being new.”

Izzy shakes her head and hears a cracked laugh, it’s from her own throat, “you don’t care about the dangers the cup represent. You only care about yourself and your mother. You’d probably would have actually  given it to him, if it had been the only way to get her. Traded the lives of hundreds for someone who is a traitor and we let you right in, we protected you against our own. I defended you, to him, from him, when it was Alec who needed protection from you.” Izzy runs a hand over her face, not carrying that it’s going to smear her makeup. “I can’t do this anymore. Jace— don’t you dare look at me like that. You know it’s true. That Alec was right all along and you tore him down for it.” Shame enters her voice, “we both did and for what. Do you think it’s worth it, Jace?”

Jace looks devastated from where he’s knelt next to Clary’s hunched form, holding her tightly like he’ll break if he lets go. Like he’ll realize it’s all real, that his parabatai is gone and all for a little girl who doesn’t even care.

“I don’t. I don’t think a single thing that causes Alec pain will ever be worth any of this. Especially 

“Izzy Alec’s probably fine! But my mother is under a spell—”

“Raziel! Your mother took a potion personally tailored for her! She’s fine and no, I’m not helping you figure out how to wake her up. That’s on you.

“Gods, my mother was right. Your mother is facing the consequences of her actions. It’s no loss to anyone but you, if she dies. But my brother is a loss for this Institute, for our family, for entire generations of current and future shadowhunters and he was punished for your wrongs. So let me tell you, Clarissa Morgenstern.” Because Clary has to be an enemy or Izzy might fall right back into the trap of her sweetly poisoned words and demands and accusations. “You are no friend to us, to any of us. You expect us to listen and die for you and yet you act above us, better than us except for when you need us. You mean nothing to us. You are the daughter of our greatest enemy and while you were an innocent when you came to us, you aren’t any longer.” 

“The next time you break the rules.” Izzy says and she holds herself as tall as she can, like Alec did, “I will personally ensure that you are held accountable. No one else will be punished in your stead ever again.” Izzy walks off, to her rooms and stares at herself in the mirror. She wonders what Alec saw when he looked at her. 

He never judged her, even when he was exasperated. Alec would sneak her out for shopping even though he hated mundane crowds and helped her design the outfits she wanted in a way that would help her fight. Spent hours with her as she tripped and tripped over him, learning to fight in heels. He’d learned the whip first, so just she had someone to spar with and Izzy lost that because she was selfish and stupid and she cared more about the excitement of something new. Because she’d felt in the right, because everyone knew Alec was boring, but now she wonders if it was boring, or just mature.

Her father has always praised her, calling her his princess, his elegant hunter, his mature little warrior but Izzy feels like a child now, playing dress-up. Slowly, she cleans off her makeup and then takes a shower. The water is hotter than usual and she feels faint when she’s done, as she slowly assembles the pieces of her new armor.

Her boots, four inches but stabilized with a core that will never let her wobble, a present from Alec on her last birthday that Izzy thought was a dig at her balance but now she thinks must have just been him trying to please her while protecting her. Tight pants that cover her skin because there’s no Alec to wipe away the ichor when it splatters on her and burns, or to soothe it away with potions and iraztes. No Alec to untangle her hair from her increasingly elaborate designs so she puts it into a high ponytail and braids in one strand of white silk ribbon into a single braid and she adds a peridot beads to it.

The beads she thought she’d never ever have to wear.

Izzy considers her body, only half dressed and she sighs, something wistful as she holds up her stele and carves a rune of remembrance above her heart and next to her angelic rune, to honor someone lost to you, by death or other means.  She wears a shirt of deep green that shows off her cleavage and her new rune and then she carefully applies the same red shade that her mother prefers. The one Alec got her when she was fifteen and that Izzy always wanted but was always afraid to wear, because she didn’t want to be compared to her mother and found lacking.

“I miss you, hermano.” She admits into the silence as she slides on a jacket one size too big. It’s the last jacket Alec ever gave her before he became too tall and broad for her to do anything but swim in his clothes. “I’m sorry.”

She straps on her weapons and watches as her face turns to something cold, something harder. It makes her look more like her mother, more like Alec and it’s with tears stinging the corners of her eyes that she opens her door and leaves.

The Lightwood’s will not fall from this blow.

Izzy will push herself until she can stand strong and protect what should have been Alec’s Institute and it’s people, the way Alec always protected her. 

#writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #lumine writes #shadowhunters #shadowhunters au #deruned alec au #izzy lightwood #jace herondale #clary fray #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets

[writer-in-theory]

Private Swimming Lessons — harringrove.

Summary: When Billy threw Steve into his backyard pool, he was expecting a laugh. What he got instead, was a scream of pure terror and a story. Prompt: C2 - Panic Attack Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Rating: Teen Word Count: 3.6k Content Warnings: Mild Language, Description of a Panic Attack (outside pov), Minor survivor’s guilt Also Read On AO3: Here A/N: This is my second fill for @harringroveson-bingo !! Thank you so much to @serenity-lattes for beta-reading and for cheering me on during all the plotting that happened in our chat 💜

Steve Harrington was weird.

Billy was sure he’d never figure him out, no matter how much time in the world he was given. When he’d first moved to Hawkins—what felt like a decade ago but was really only about a year—all he’d heard about was King Steve, a vicious and charming ruler who’d taken every girl in school out on a date and who’d somehow convinced every single guy that his reign wasn’t worth fighting. That king had apparently abdicated by the time Billy had rolled around, instead preferring to chase after a handful of middle schoolers who referred to themselves as “The Party” and who somehow got roped into enough trouble to last a lifetime.

Enough trouble that bled into Billy’s life, eventually.

Steve was tough and fiery. He’d seen that much in November, as Billy laid on the floor of Joyce Byers’s house after a fight with him. He was also soft, and Billy had gotten to see that too. He saw it in the kisses they’d found together under the spring sunsets, he saw it in the way Steve would hold him a little closer when they woke up in the same bed, always telling him you don’t have to go home yet, stay. 

After nearly a year, Billy was intoxicated by Steve. He wanted to know more, wanted to pick apart every single piece of Steve until he could see each puzzle piece that made up the whole beautiful picture. 

One piece he couldn’t figure out was the pool. 

Steve took the Party to the Hawkins Community Pool multiple times a week as soon as school let out for the summer. It was odd, sure, but Steve reassured him that he’d rather be here than at his private pool because Billy was there, and because he didn’t have to watch the kids.

Except that wasn’t true either, because Steve never relaxed. He hardly ever let his eyes off those kids, even when it was Billy up on the lifeguard stand. Even when Billy walked over to his chair, flirting and flexing because he finally had his tan back, see, Harrington? Steve’s eyes never left where the kids were splashing and swimming around. Billy’d even seen a fleeting moment of panic once—the one with the fluffy hair that got comically irritated when Billy messed up his name took a running leap into the pool, submerging and not coming back up for a few seconds. Billy had been standing by Steve’s pool chair then, close enough to see the flash of fear in his eyes as he shot forward, hands gripping the sides of the chair like it was the only thing keeping him from rushing into the pool after the kid. It was strange, but not too out of the realm of possibility for Steve. After all, on more than one occasion Max had huffed and groaned about him like he was a mom to these kids—apparently, he was protective of them ever since he was in charge of them at the junkyard. 

Then there were the times Steve invited Billy over to swim. Steve would be wearing those short little swim trunks that made Billy wish they weren’t outside where one of his rich-ass neighbors could hear if anything louder than a conversation occurred, but he would never swim. Ever. He’d kick back in one of the lounge chairs, sunglasses on as he made some excuse about how he wasn’t going to swim today, but don’t let that stop Billy from swimming. And it never did. Billy would always slip off his shirt, tossing it in Steve’s direction and grinning at the disgruntled shout that came from the other man before he was diving straight into the pool. 

Those days were fun, spent watching the sun crest over the peak of the sky and disappear back down under the horizon from the pool. He’d swim for a bit before coming to rest against the ledge, talking with Steve about anything—from football teams neither of them cared about, to where they should go when summer was over, now that they both were graduated and free to escape this town.

But still, pool days would be more fun if Steve got in the water with him. Billy never understood the strange excuses, but finally chalked it up to Steve “The Hair” Harrington not wanting to get that precious hair wet. But then again, he’d been swim captain for three years, so he should be used to it. Maybe he just didn’t want Billy to see his hair like that? Maybe he was teasing him like this, laying out for him looking absolutely gorgeous every week and asking Billy to do something about it.

So the next time Steve invited him to go swimming, he decided he would. Because they’d seen each other fighting off strange vines beneath pumpkin patches, surely Billy could see Steve’s hair all wet and matted down.

“Billy, what’re you doing?” Steve asked, laughing at first as Billy wrapped his arms around his waist the second Steve started heading toward his chosen lounge chair.

“I thought you said we’re going swimming, pretty boy.”

“Stop! No, I’m not swimming today,” Steve called out, still laughing but with his voice a higher pitch than normal. Billy could see the flush spreading over Steve’s cheeks as he hauled him over to the edge of the pool.

“One...” Billy counted slowly as Steve continued to yell, complaining but never once trying to fight out of Billy’s hold. “Two....three!”

It was supposed to be a fun day. Steve would land in the water, and at first, he’d scowl but then he’d swipe the hair back from his forehead and grin up at Billy. Billy would jump in after him and they could spend the day in the pool together, maybe get that underwater kiss he’d been having dreams about ever since the start of the summer.

Instead, the second Steve hit the water he let out a blood-curdling scream.

It wasn’t a scream of shock or one of joy. No, this was terror, unlike anything Billy had ever heard before.

Immediately Steve was splashing furiously, practically hauling himself out of the water. Billy could only watch in shock and horror as Steve sat on top of his calves, bent over so his palms dug into the rough concrete around the pool while his chest heaved. Deep, growled-out breaths punched out of his chest at odd intervals, and when Billy reached a hand down to touch his shoulder Steve let out a wild shout, knocking the hand away and scrambling back like he was going to get hit.

“Steve, Steve, I’m sorry,” Billy forced out, feeling his own heart pounding against his chest and in his ears. “I thought—I thought it’d be funny, I didn’t mean—”

You were born to destroy. It’s all you’re good at.

Neil had told him as much, made sure he knew every day that he would never be more than this. And Billy, he’d fought so hard against it. He’d stopped fighting, he dug his nails deep into his palms when he wanted to pick a fight and he’d fucking apologized to Steve, back when Steve was still just Harrington and Billy was just the new guy prick. 

But then Billy found someone willing to love him, and he did this. 

It was supposed to be a joke. People throw their friends, their partners, into the pool all the time.

“I’m okay, I’m—” Steve gasped out, already trying to stand but stumbling back to the ground between his rapid breathing.

“Hey, hey, no you’re not,” Billy answered, immediately tossing away his own fears because Steve was there in front of him panicking, Steve needed his help now.

Billy didn’t know what it was that caused such terrifying breathing, but he did know how to help make it stop. He had to know, after one too many times passing out in his bedroom as a kid from the inability to return his breathing to normal. 

So he rushed forward, not minding the way his knees scraped the concrete harshly as he made it to Steve’s side. He put his hands up, palms toward Steve as he inched them closer to him. “Hey, hey, it’s gonna be alright, you hear me, Stevie?”

“I need you to focus on what I’m saying, I know that pretty little head of yours can do it. Okay? Can you feel me breathing?” Billy asked the second he could grab Steve’s hand and press it to his own chest, keeping both of his hands over Steve’s to keep it in place. “Try to copy that, alright? In and out slowly, just like I’m doing.”

Steve was staring at him, hazel eyes wide but finally coming into focus again. He nodded, maybe forcing something out that sounded a little like an ‘okay’. 

“Good job, keep breathing with me, okay? You’re doin’ great, a real natural. Can you do somethin’ else for me? Tell me something you can see right now.”

“Blue. Your eyes, blue,” Steve answered, voice sounding light and breathless but there. And of course, it would be him that Steve noticed—he was always commenting on Billy’s eyes, always talking about how bright and expressive the color was. It used to scare him, how easily Steve seemed to be able to read him from those eyes. “The sun, the sun’s out.”

“Yeah, yeah it is,” Billy breathed out, taking only a moment to glance up at the thing Steve pointed out before focusing back in on the man in his arms.

“The sun’s out. It’s daytime,” Steve repeated, his fingers relaxing their grip on Billy’s chest with every repetition. Billy didn’t know why that was such an important point, but he could see more and more clarity returning to Steve’s face so he wouldn’t question it, not if it brought Steve back to him.

“Yeah, sun’s out. It’s daytime, nothin’ can get you now,” Billy reassured, only letting Steve’s hand drop from his chest once he saw Steve’s breathing begin to even out. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, punctuated only by Steve’s audible breathing as he returned it to a normal rhythm. Billy tried not to stare, instead turning his head to look at the pool, the offender in this entire situation. Steve had been a captain of the swimming team for two years, and part of the Varsity squad for three. He knew because it was just one of many sports that Billy had to hear about, constantly had to see ‘Steve Harrington’ plastered around the gym beside a multitude of records. The coach was the gym teacher, and Billy could hear nearly every day during their Senior year how hard the man tried to recruit Steve back to the team. ‘You could get a scholarship, Harrington, you know that? Anywhere you wanna go, just come compete.’ 

It used to piss Billy off, the way Steve seemingly threw away the best chance at getting out of this town. Then in November, he found out his little sister hunted interdimensional monsters for fun, and apparently, Steve was the only thing in between her and certain death. He’d assumed that was the reason Steve had stopped swimming—why worry about scholarships when he’d had multiple near-death experiences before being able to legally vote? Even Billy had struggled in the months after, had to force himself to focus on school because that was the only fucking way he’d ever escape his dad. 

But this, this was more than simply trying to return to normal life after a scary experience. No, this reaction was pure trauma—something had happened here, in the water, to make Steve so petrified.

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmured, one knee brought up near his chest so he could drape an arm over it. He was staring at his feet, head dipped just low enough that his eyes were concealed from Billy by his eyelashes.

“No,” Billy immediately answered, wincing at the force behind the word. He could already feel the frustration bubbling up in him, and had to remind himself that no, this wasn’t the time for that. “No, Steve, don’t apologize for shit you didn’t do.”

“That was embarra—”

“I wouldn’t have thrown you in if I knew. I’m sorry. You know I never want to h—” Billy choked around the word, eyes instinctively drifting up to find Steve’s hairline. It was concealed by the way Steve was sitting, but Billy could still see it clear as day, the jagged scar from a heavy plate smashed over his head. It was the first time he ever truly feared becoming like Neil, the first time he looked at his reflection and no longer saw the momma’s boy he’d always been but rather a shadow of his father. 

It was the last time he ever wanted to feel that way, the last time he’d ever hurt someone he loved.

“You know Barb? Uh, Barbara Holland, Nance’s friend,” Steve began, eyebrows drawn together, eyes still focused on his feet instead of on Billy. They were still sitting as near to each other as they could, Billy’s hip barely brushing Steve’s ankle. 

“Girl who died in the chemical leak?” He hadn’t been a part of the aftermath discussions in November, not more than the obligatory ‘don’t even think about telling another soul about what happened tonight’. All he knew was that a week later, the news was going on about how a girl died a year ago at the same lab they’d all driven to that night, that the federal government had kept her death a secret for a year.

“No, well, yeah,” Steve started, already confusing Billy. He wouldn’t jump in though, not until Steve was done talking. He could see the tension tied tight in each of Steve’s muscles like the other man was ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. He wouldn’t be the reason for it, not again. “She didn’t die at the lab. She died here.”

“Here? At your house?”

“In my pool,” Steve corrected, head turning to stare out at the diving board on the other end of the pool. “She was sitting there the last I saw her. Tommy, Carol, and I were having a party, so I invited Nance over. She brought Barb for some reason, maybe because she didn’t trust me yet? Maybe because Barb was lonely. I know she really hated me, thought I was taking up too much of Nance’s time.”

“Sounds like she was jealous.”

Steve let out a noise that sounded like half a laugh and half-scoff, nodding slowly and risking a glance at Billy. “Yeah, maybe. She ended up being right, either way. We all left her alone out there so we could...the point is, we left her.”

“You aren’t responsible for every damn person at a party, Steve,” Billy tried, already seeing where this was going. A rock was developing in his stomach then, sitting harshly and weighing his body down. 

“It was an asshole move to leave her out there. In the morning she was gone. Disappeared. I thought maybe she’d run away, thought maybe she’d...she could’ve been like us, you know?” Steve continued, brown doe eyes staring straight at Billy, wide and bright like he was asking Billy to absolve him of his crimes. “The Demogorgon got to her, pulled her right into that pool. I can’t get in the water without thinking about what she must have felt, how scared Barb must’ve been. Shit, I was terrified in those tunnels, and I knew what we were up against.”

“Steve,” Billy tried, but there weren’t enough words to fix anything that Steve had said. It was a shit situation, but they were all just kids when this happened. Steve had been 16, how was he supposed to have fought off a fucking Demogorgon on his own?

“Every time I get in the water, I picture that thing grabbing my ankle, pulling me down until the sun isn’t visible anymore. Pulls me straight into that Hellhole where it took Will and Barb.”

Billy didn’t have the right words—had never really been good at collecting them in the first place—but he did have an idea. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked, watching Steve’s expression morph from hurt to confusion.

“Huh?” Steve asked, tilting his head to the side in the way he did when he truly had no idea what was happening like he was a doe analyzing a scene for danger.

“Do you trust me?” Billy repeated.

“Of course. I trust you with my life,” Steve answered immediately, and, well fuck the way that made Billy’s chest flutter was something to examine later.

“Then c’mon.” Billy stood up, holding his hand out to help Steve up too. When they both were upright, Billy didn’t let go of his hand, instead beginning to guide him over to the side of the pool with a set of stairs. Already he could feel the tension in Steve’s hand as he tried to stop walking, tugging on Billy’s arm with the resistance.

“Billy, I can’t. I already told you I—”

“Just try something for me, okay? And if you hate it, we’ll get out and I’ll never bring it up again. But you can’t tell me you don’t miss it. The water.”

Steve watched Billy’s face for a moment before he seemed to resign himself, nodding a little and allowing Billy to guide him to the steps and into the pool. They took it slowly, allowing Steve to spend several minutes on each step to get used to the feeling of the water around his ankles, his knees, his hips. He looked nervous the whole time, but Billy was right there every step of the way, never taking his hands out of Steve’s, keeping his eyes planted firmly on those doe eyes he loved so much.

“Lay back for me, okay, pretty boy? I’ve got you,” Billy promised, letting Steve rest his head back on his shoulder as Steve brought his legs up so he could float. Billy kept his hands on Steve, one hand resting atop his abdomen and the other on Steve’s upper arm, keeping him from floating away. “Close your eyes.”

“Billy,” Steve whined but did it anyway. Because Steve trusts him, really trusts him.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear. We’re just floating here, right? It’s the middle of the day,” Billy tried, remembering the way Steve had clung to that thought while panicking. “You can feel the sun, yeah? All that heat warming you up, and you didn’t put sunscreen on that pale-ass skin so you’re gonna burn and—”

“I get it.”

“Right, anyway. But feel that? The water’s so gentle, it’s holding you up, keeping you cool in all this heat. It’s not out here to hurt you. And you can feel me around you, too, yeah? Those demo-fuckers are all gone now, but even if they weren’t I’d be here to protect you. I can take ‘em too. Who’s the certified lifeguard here?”

“Actually, both of us,” Steve laughed, still keeping his eyes closed but allowing a smile to warm up his face. “They asked me back this summer and I said no.”

“Guess I should be thanking you for my job then, huh?”

“Yeah, I think you should make it up to me, Bee. Otherwise, you’d be the one in the tight shorts scooping ice cream,” Steve teased.

“You fuckin’ wish,” Billy laughed, knowing he’d have rathered taken any job over the one that forced Steve to wear that ridiculous sailor getup. But damn, did his pretty boy somehow pull it off. “How’d you want me to make it up to you?”

“A kiss sounds nice.” Steve peeked his eyes open for that, his expression absolutely radiant in the summer sun. His laugh was infectious as Billy grabbed onto him tighter than, pulling Steve upright so he could press a kiss to his lips. He could really only taste chlorine and the lingering saltiness of the tears Steve had shed while telling that story, and it was a rather sloppy kiss by his own standards, but Billy wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world.

“See? You’ve survived twenty whole minutes out here,” Billy whispered when he pulled back just enough to breathe, lips still hovering over Steve’s. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“How could I not be? I have my own personal lifeguard,” Steve answered lightly, though allowed his features to soften when he pulled his face back enough to meet Billy’s eyes. “Thank you.”

“I’ll kiss you anytime, you don’t have to thank me.”

“You know what I mean, you ass,” Steve groaned, though the smile never faded. “Can we get out now? Try again later?”

“Only if you come shower with me,” Billy answered, though was already steering both of them to the ladder. 

“You’re terrible.”

“You love that about me,” Billy beamed as they both climbed out of the pool, tossing a towel over to Steve to dry off. Steve’s hands were shaking a little but the tension had disappeared from his shoulders, expression open and bright as he watched Billy dry off. 

“I really do,” Steve answered. “Let’s get inside. I don’t wanna see this pool again today.”

It would take a lot of work to get Steve back to the comfort he once felt in the water, and maybe he’d never be fully okay with it again, but at least now Billy knew. He could be there for him in any way Steve would let him. 

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[blueeyedheizer]

Hii can you write for Cassie with prompts 2 and 12 pls.

I missed you here you're my favorite writer

2-  “Stop teasing me so much”

12- "Your body is fucking unreal.”

thank you so much for your support 💜 | nsfw, 18+ under the cut

"I thought about you all week." Cassie whispers seductively, inching herself closer until she's straddling your lap, her bare legs resting on either side of yours on the couch.

"All week? Sounds a bit obsessive." you tease, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She laughs softly and captures your bottom lip between her teeth, tugging at the soft flesh before letting go.

"I'm serious." she breathes. "I really....really want you to fuck me."

You sigh and close your eyes for a moment, basking in the sound of her saying that. 

"Is that so...?" you press a gentle kiss to her lips and before you can part, she deepens it. It's slow, still somewhat innocent as your lips work together lazily. Yours eventually move below her jawline, trailing sloppy and light kisses from there down to her neck.

"What do you want me to do to you?"

"Whatever you want." she breathes, "I'm all yours."

Cassie gasps as you switch your positions, your arm wrapped around her middle to move her down onto the couch.

The kiss you initiate is more desperate this time. You're not kissing her lazily anymore. Tongues and teeth are clashing - and suddenly, the only thing you want is to do is touch her and see everything that's underneath her shirt.

You slide down the couch, ignoring your own needs in favor of focusing on kissing down her skin, rolling her shirt high up her body until Cassie sits up to shuck it off in one smooth motion.

She lays back down and you're already there, hot lips over her nipple, swirling and flicking then sucking gently before moving onto the other and repeating the same process.

"Your body is fucking unreal." you mumble after releasing the hardened bud, gently blowing on the wet spot left by your mouth. Your other hand busies itself with her other breast, cupping and massaging it as your thumb gently slides across the nipple.

Cassie's head sinks back into the cushion, her spine arching as she whimpers and writhes impatiently, pressing her chest into you.

“Please."

She doesn't know what she's asking for exactly, but somehow you do, scooching yourself down the couch until you're positioned between her legs, at eye level with her crotch.

"Almost there, baby. Be patient." you respond.

Cassie slips a hand in your hair, tugging a bit to urge you on as her chest begins to heave, soft, breathy whimpers leaving her lips with every exhale. You hook a finger under the only clothing piece left on her body, pull, and then let go; snapping it back into place. Cassie gasps and you smirk up at her, enjoying how restless she's becoming.

"Stop teasing me so much..." she pouts, growing impatient.

"Tease you? I would never."

You lean forward to lick a slow stripe up the damp fabric of her panties. The unexpected contact makes Cassie gasp, her hips jutting up towards your touch. You smile at her response and repeat the same motion a couple times, finishing with a kiss on her clothed clit.

"Such a needy pussy. I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already wet." you tease, now dragging your finger where your tongue had just been. Cassie swears, earning her a tut.

"Please." she begs.

"Please what?"

"Touch me."

"I am touching you. Aren't I?" you emphasize your point by applying some pressure on her clit.

"No.."

"No? What am I doing, then?"

"You're teasing." she cuts you off. "I want your mouth. Please." she breathes out, spreading her legs further.

"Yeah... that'd feel so much better, wouldn't it? Where do you want my mouth, Cassie?” Your lips latch onto her inner thighs, kissing and sucking on the soft skin, leaving pink wet spots behind. "Here?"

Cassie shakes her head, her hips chasing your mouth. You seize the opportunity to pull her panties down her legs.

"How about here?” you bring your mouth closer to her mound, so close she can feel your warm breath on her pussy. "...or maybe here." Finally, you tenderly kiss the bud between her legs. Cassie's breath catches in her throat, her legs attempting to close around your head in surprise and pleasure.

You look up at her, a smug smirk stretching on your lips as you lean forward and finally give in to her pleas, making yourself at home between her thighs. You work her relentlessly, licking, flicking, sucking, fucking her with your tongue until she's moaning and rocking her hips against your face, fingers pulling at your hair desperately.

#cassie howard x reader #cassie howard x fem!reader #cassie howard imagine #cassie howard fanfic #cassie howard smut