#what does any of it mean and why is it not brought up more

[slayfics]

Eijiro teaches you how to use his headpiece.

1.2k words

“You guys are all wrong,” Minoru declared. “Yaoyorozu has the best hero costume.”

“Can you not be a perv just once Mineta!” Mina yelled, bonking him on the head.

You all had been discussing who had the best hero costume in the common room of the dorms before Minoru interrupted with his own opinions.

You rolled your eyes ignoring him and moving on, “Kirishima, I think your costume is pretty cool,”

“What really?!” The redhead perked up on the couch.

“No way! How is that any less of a pervy answer than Mineta?! Come on, what about me? My jacket is pretty cool!” Denki said eager for attention.

Mina ignored Denki’s desperate cry for praise and turned to you, “It is kind of an interesting choice since Kirishima’s costume is basically just pants,” Mina giggled.

Your cheeks flushed at your friend’s words, “No no! I’m not trying to be a creep or anything!” You backtracked.

“It’s ok don’t worry! I uh- didn’t think that” Eijiro said blushing alongside you.

“I was thinking about your headpiece when I answered, you designed it yourself?? It looks so cool!” You spoke trying to redeem yourself.

“Nah- don’t lie. You just like watching him run around without a shirt,” Denki huffed.

“Leave them alone man!” Eijiro said shoving Denki off the couch. “Yeah, I designed it myself,” he spoke turning his attention back to you. A prideful smile on his face from your praise.

“That’s really impressive!” You smiled. “How does it work?? Is it hard to get on?”

“The thing breaks every time he’s in a fight! It’s not that impressive…” Denki mumbled to himself on the floor.

Eijiro ignored him and answered, “It just latches on- it’s pretty simple. I can go grab it and show you.” He offered.

“Oh-ok!” You blushed, as he sprang off the couch to head up to his dorm.

“Wait!” Mina called. “Why don’t you just go upstairs with Kirishima? Then he doesn’t have to make so many trips up and down the elevator,” Mina suggested with a sly smile.

“Are you kidding me?!” Denki exclaimed, but Mina covered his mouth.

“Go you two!” Mina encouraged, shooing at you both with her free hand.

“I uh-,” you hesitated on the couch.

“It’s ok with me,” Eijiro spoke but quickly added- “I mean as long as you’re comfortable with it!”

“I am, as long as you don’t mind me in your room,” you answered.

“Go go go, we’ll be here. Right, Kaminari?” Mina said aggressively to him. Denki giving up just nodded and rolled his eyes at Mina.

“Alright let’s go,” Eijiro waved at you to follow him, with ab apprehensive smile.

Once you both were out of earshot Mina let out a laugh. “Man, they need so much help,” she declared.

“Maybe but- you don’t have to be pushing them together,” Denki complained.

“Oh, get over it. They have been crushing on each other for a long time now.” She answered.

The elevator ride up to Eijiro’s room was long and filled with awkward conversation.

“Could I get in trouble for being here?” You asked nervously.

“Nah I doubt it- besides I’m just showing you how my headpiece works right? I suppose that could be useful to know in the future if we’re ever teamed up together,” Eijiro justified.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed nodding happily.

You both made your way to his dorm door. You briefly remembered what his dorm looked like when your class held the dorm competition- but when Eijiro opened the door it was more intense than you remembered. The bright red curtains brought a whimsical sense to the room, and the posters covering the walls illuminated the room with his personality.

“Oh wow,” you exclaimed following him inside.

“I know I know- I already heard it from Hagakure. It’s not a very appealing room,” Eijiro said sadly.

“No! I love it!” You sang.

“What really?! Thanks,” he said smiling and blushing as he looked around for his hero costume. “All right, here it is!” he said, pulling his headpiece out.

Eijiro sat on his bed, and you nervously followed his lead sitting next to him.

“It’s easy I just put it on like this-,” he said placing it on, “then lock into place on the side.” The headpiece made a snapping sound as he locked it in.

“Oh, I guess that is really easy,” you laughed nervously feeling silly for asking how it worked now. “Can I see it?”

“Yeah, sure!” He answered and took off the headpiece, handing it to you.

It was heavier than you expected and cold to the touch. "Wow, this doesn't bother you?"

"Nope! Keeps me protected from getting hit in my weak spots," He answered.

"Can I try?" You asked.

Eijiro nodded and chuckled in amusement thinking it was cute you wanted to try on a part of his costume, but when you moved closer and placed your hands around his head he froze. He hadn't realized you meant you wanted to put it on for him.

Eijiro felt his breath catch in his throat as you were just inches away from him carefully placing his headpiece on.

You secured the metal piece around his face before catching sight of him staring intently at you. His gaze made your hands start to shake as you went to snap the headpiece in place. His vermillion eyes sparkled as he looked at you with a bashful smile.

The warmth of your hands on either side of him was intoxicating and he felt how could get lost there when suddenly, "Ow!" he yelped.

Your shaking hands had caused you to pinch the side of his face as you snapped the headpiece together.

"OH MY GOD, I'M SO SORRY!" you exclaimed springing up off the bed.

"It's ok!" Eijiro said, reaching his hand out to reassure you.

You wanted to believe him, but you saw a drop of blood drip down to his cheek.  

"NO, YOU'RE BLEEDING!" You yelled, horrified with yourself. You booked it to his bathroom to find some first aid supplies. Eijiro followed behind you- blushing at you rummaging through his stuff in a panic.

"It's ok promise- but let me help you!" He offered.

"Oh man, you're right! First, I hurt you then I rummage through your stuff without asking! I'm the worst!" You proclaimed, dropping your head into your hands.

"No no! Really, it's not a big deal!' Eijiro said attempting to calm you as he brought out a band-aid.

"Here let me help you please!' You begged.

Eijiro smiled sweetly and handed you the band-aid and a cloth, then took his head headpiece off so you could inspect the injury.

Your eyes misted at the sight, "I'm so sorry- that looks like it hurt." You sniffed and dabbed at the injury gently with a cloth to clean off the blood. You moved closer to tend to him, and Eijiro once again felt lost in your close presence.

He smiled down at you, cheeks tinting as your hands grazed his cheek to place on the band-aid. "Believe me- I'm not even thinking about that right now," he said voice low and sultry.

You caught his gaze and blushed at realizing how close you had come to him in your panic. A blush dusted your own cheeks as you tilted your head and asked, "What are you thinking about then?"

sinners: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @derangedmango @reneinii @zanarkandskylines @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55

#slay writes #kirishima fluff #eijiro kirishima #kirishima x gender neutral reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #kirishima x reader #eijiro x reader #bnha eijiro kirishima #mha eijirou #kirishima eijiro x reader #eijirou x reader #bnha eijirou #kirishima eijirou #kirishima eijiro x y/n #kirishima eijiro fluff #red riot #bnha katsuki #bnha fluff #bnha fanfiction #bnha kirishima #bnha x self insert #bnha x y/n #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha x you #bnha x reader #mha fluff #mha x y/n #mha x gender neutral reader #mha x reader

[vesppperoro]

Hello! I hope I don’t offend you or make you uncomfortable bc it’s my first time requesting to you, but can I request Sin of Envy reader x Sin of greed (Mammon)?? Into sure if you already did this, if you did you can ignore this!! Ty😓😓

Mammon x Sin of Envy!Reader

Includes: Mammon, Leviathan!Reader.

A/N:Ur perfectly fine don’t worry at all!! This request doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all!! In fact, it’s quite adorable. They give enemies to lovers except they still hate each other lol. Enjoy!

As stated in one of the posts I’ve made about the sins and how they feel about Leviathan!Reader, you and Mammon HATED each other

You literally had the I.M.P. kill one of your own sinners because they leaked your ideas to him.

He ripped off your fame, so you despised him.

Your rivalry was known across the Greed Ring and the Envy Ring.

You both would rant about each other to anyone who would listen.

The Greed Ring hated you and the Envy Ring hated him.

You were more popular than him. He was jealous as hell.

But when you both attended Sin meetings either Lucifer, you two couldn’t help but steal glances at one another.

You didn’t understand why, and he didn’t either.

Maybe it was growing hatred. Why does hatred feel so good, though?

You always felt a weird sensation whenever you saw his posters. Whenever you saw whatever he was hosting.

A weird gut feeling you’ve never felt before surfaced.

It was the same for him. It made him hate you even more. What did you do to him?

Seeing your face on any posters made him blush. He secretly kept them in his room.

He didn’t know why.

You didn’t know why you felt this way either.

One day, you were ranting to Beelzebub and the topic of Mammon came up.

You started ranting and ranting. You lost track of everything you said until you heard your bestie gasp.

She stared at you like a deer in headlights.

“Levi, hunny, you’re in love!”

You immediately made a gagging noise. In LOVE?!

Sure, you’ve had hookups, but you’ve never been in love. Especially not with HIM.

“That might be why you hate ‘em so much. Your heart wants him but your brain doesn’t. Hah! Look at you go!”

Her mocking pissed you off.

Meanwhile, Mammon was ranting to one of his employees about you. Nothing unusual.

That was, until, he mentioned the weird feeling of you.

He nearly killed the bitch that brought up the possibility of him being in love with you.

But it made him think. Maybe he was.

But he would never admit it. He’s too cocky.

Now, anytime you two see each other, your looks of disgust towards one another grow more and more intense.

That was until the last Sin meeting with Lucifer.

Asmodeus was teasing Mammon and he brought up you.

“Awww. Are you in love with them???”

His lack of a response made the room go quiet.

You stared at him forever. Until Lucifer just.. dismissed you guys.

Mammon pulled you aside and roughly confessed that it was true.

“Maybe I am in love with you, bitch.”

And that’s how you two started dating.

Your relationship was kept a secret, since everyone thought that the both of you despised each other.

Whenever he put on a show, you shape-shifted to fit in and watched his shows.

He did the same for you.

Afterwards, you two would meet up somewhere private and playfully tease each other.

You two act like an old married couple but with more hatred. That hatred comes from the love you two discovered you had for one another.

You killed anyone who even dared to look at Mammon the same way you looked at him. That’s the price to pay for being with the Sin of Envy.

He made fun of anyone who liked you too. He was ruder, but he didn’t normally kill them unless pushed too far.

You both secretly shared a bed together. One that nobody found out about.

He also spoiled the hell out of you.

You were even more lenient towards your people whenever they went into the Greed Ring.

It confused them.

Anyways. You two are VERY playfully mean to each other.

“Shut your mouth, bitch.”

“Kill yourself, cunt.”

But you both knew you weren’t serious. Not anymore, anyways.

He’s the little spoon. He won’t admit it at all, but you’re definitely the dominant one in the relationship.

Anyways. You two have fancy as hell dates. Anyone who says anything will be killed on the spot.

Your relationship remains a secret. Anyone who knew would be killed.

That was, until, it got out by Asmodeus or Fizz.

Now everyone knows.

But you two don’t really care.

Now, you affection is displayed openly.

#hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #sin reader #envy #sin of envy #sin of envy reader #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #helluva boss mammon #mammon x reader #sinner #sin of greed #greed #enemies to lovers #lover enemies ??? #demon #7 deadly sins #7ds

[tralalalalally]

Some sketches of headcanons for Maedhros' body-type, tattoos, and scars.

I will give a warning for talk on poor mental and physical health before my notes:

. His body-type in particular is something he specifically works for - before Thangorodrim I think he had the more stereotypical elf-prince body (his mother-name is "well-formed", yes?) - something classically desireable. After his capture, the mix of starvation and hard physical labour made him unhealthily lean. After being rescued he was able to build up body fat again, but instead of regaining his old body he works for this new one. Something undeniably strong, untouchable, a warriors body further exaggerated. Not only does he want to distance himself from the perfection of the old him, he wants to make sure noone looking at him could see him as weak. I doubt he'd remember at least the first few months after his rescue well, but from what he does, he feels ashamed. Hiding, cowing away in fear like a child, striking out at those trying to help, revealing far too much of his trauma from the enemy. Emotion becomes a weakness to him, and he learns to control that, but then as he heals further he seeks control over his body too. I think he might eventually see himself - both body and soul - like a project similar to the construction and ruling of Himring. Especially I imagine a disconnect from his body - it is something to be built up, made strong and impenetrable, anything to not be harmed and tormented again.

. The most important scars for my headcanon (other than his missing hand of course) are the brand on his shoulder and the whip marks on his back. The brand effects him the most, and is something he covers as much as possible. None would know about it other than Findekano, Makalaure, and a few healers. Unfortunately due to it being raised, it cannot be tattooed over (nor do I think he'd be able to sit through any tattoos). I am thinking of designing some type of clothing that would essentially be part of his underwear, something that would keep it covered as often as possible - goes over the shoulder, wrapping around his body to beneath the right arm pit?

For the whip scars - when first brought to Thangorodrim he would sometimes be put to work with the other thralls. This was meant to be demoralising, the thralls seeing their prince/king reduced to this, and to show Maedhros how much had been taken from him. Of course the scars healed poorly and were often infected (I think with the brand, it may have been purposefully aggravated to make the scarring worse), though due to his positioning he got enough medical care to keep him alive. Now that he is free they still give him trouble - mobility issues from ones that cut into muscle, and the scarring itself makes the flesh stiff and less flexible. There is also a lack of feeling for most of the area.

. Tattoos - I honestly don't have any real sure designs or positioning fro them. My main thought was the vision of a tattoo of the 8 pointed star, broken up and faded due to scarring caused at Thangorodrim. You can still tell what the tattoo is of, but it has undeniably been damaged. I think I'd like to design for him a large back tattoo - star of Feanor in the middle, with other references surrounding it. Then, of course, the whip scars on top.

(Ah, and for body hair: I imagine elves can grow it, just usually not as thick. I think I remember reading that some can grow beards in old age? (As with Cirdan), so why not the same for body hair lol. I mean, humans also only get most after puberty)

#my art #silm art #silm fanart #maedhros #tolkien #feanorions #i have a feeling tumblr wont like this one haha

[theamberfist]

How I Met Her Mother | Part 2 | Tighnari x Reader

Romantic: Tighnari x Collei's Parent! Reader

Description: When Collei and the traveler discover Tighnari's feelings for her adoptive parent, they make it their mission to get them on a date together through a (maybe unnecessarily) elaborate plan.

(Notes: none) (gender neutral reader) (reader is Collei's adoptive parent) (Part 2 of How I Met Her Mother)

Read Part 1 here!

I didn’t plan to do multiple parts originally but @4o3ok3id you ask and you shall receive! <3

Since you'd moved back to Gandharva Ville, you'd been extremely stressed. Between your work as a doctor, helping your daughter with her own health issues, and trying your best not to inconvenience any of the forest rangers, things could be a lot. However, more recently, you'd started to notice a few of those worries easing, as if someone had been lightening the load on your shoulders.

And, of course, that someone happened to be Tighnari; your close friend from back during your Akadamiya days. You didn't think he was aware of the fact that you'd noticed, but you had. He was always offering to take in some of your extra patients since he had some medical expertise himself, even after you'd essentially become Gandharva Ville's personal doctor. He kept you as updated as possible on Collei's condition so you wouldn't be left worrying in the dark, he let her rest in his own hut on her off-but-not-life-threatening days so you wouldn't have to see it, and the amount of times he'd brought over dinner for the two of you due to having 'made too much for himself' so you wouldn't have to worry about cooking was becoming too much to count.

You were extremely touched by it and always tried your best to repay him for his kind acts, though he rarely ever accepted anything, claiming he 'was just doing his job as head forest ranger.' 

You weren't the only one that had started to notice his abnormal kindness towards you and your daughter, though. 

"He brought you guys dinner again?!" Paimon exclaimed a little too loudly as she, Collei, and Aether crouched behind some bushes by your house. "That's, like, the third time since we've been visiting!" 

"I know," Collei replied, "Master Tighnari is very kind, and I think he can tell how stressed they are. I just wish I could do something to help them too; I hope I don't make them worry too much..." Aether could see the green haired girl starting to look sad and immediately tried to come up with a way to cheer her up. Luckily, though, Paimon seemed to have that covered.

"Collei!" She exclaimed, flying a little closer to the girl while still staying far back enough that she wouldn't accidentally touch her and make her uncomfortable, "Do you realize what this means?!" She got loud again and, momentarily, the rustling in your kitchen nearby stopped. All three of them froze but after a second it continued as you went back to preparing the dinner the forest ranger had brought; seemingly deciding not to investigate the loud noises outside. 

Aether shushed the little flying girl as Collei frowned slightly. "...No?" Paimon looked exasperated.

"Do you?!" She asked, turning to the blonde traveler, who shrugged. "Ugh!' Paimon exclaimed, "Isn't it obvious? Tighnari has feelings for Collei's parent! You two are both clueless." 

"He...Does?" Collei asked, looking a little confused but the longer she though about it, the more she had to admit that it did add up. Even before you'd adopted her when she was little, there had seemed to be something going on between you two that was different from your friendship with Cyno or anyone else. 

"Of course he does!" Paimon replied, "You should have seen the look on his face when he told us how they'd met, Collei! Paimon can't believe she didn't realize it at the time but it all makes sense now!" Beside her, Aether couldn't help but nod in agreement; she had a point.

"...I guess that would explain why he always does so much to help," Collei admitted finally, "And why he seems so much less strict around us than the rest of Gandharva Ville. I always thought it was just because they'd graduated together, but Cyno was in their class too and Master Tighnari is even stricter towards him than anyone here!" 

"Exactly!" Paimon exclaimed. This revelation put a smile on Collei's face. After all, you and Tighnari had to be two of her favorite people in the whole world. You'd taken her in when she had nothing; a scared child that was recovering from having the remains of a god essentially exorcised from her body. You were young yourself at the time, and yet you'd agreed to raise her as your own without a second thought. 

And then there was Tighnari; the man that had taken her on as a student the second she'd shown an interest in plants and basic level of competence. He'd helped make her who she was today; taught her to fight, empowered her when she felt like she couldn't ever be strong again. He'd even helped stave off the symptoms of her Eleazar alongside you. 

The idea of the two of you potentially entering a relationship- or better yet, getting married- made her grin widely. She already saw Tighnari like a second parent with all that he'd taught her, even if she would never be brave enough to tell him that to his face. Having you both as her official parents would be a dream come true, and if it would make you happy, she'd support it without a doubt.

"I hope Master Tighnari tells them about his feelings soon!" She exclaimed excitedly now, "I'm sure they feel the same!" 

"Knowing that guy, I wouldn't count on it." Paimon replied with a sigh. But then she seemed to get an idea because she suddenly turned and eyed Aether in a way only a scheming Paimon could. He gave her a 'what are you thinking?' kind of look but she just turned back to Collei. "What if we help them out?" She suggested, making him raise an eyebrow, "There's no way someone like Tighnari would confess to your parent; and especially not if he feels like they're already stressed. But if we nudge them along, maybe we could help them finally admit their feelings!"

There was a pause as Collei seemed to process this. On the one hand, as your daughter, she wanted you to be happy and not have to worry about her so much despite her illness. On the other, she knew it might be wrong to get involved in the situation when it really wasn't her place. After all, it was possible her mentor had his reasons for not admitting his feelings to you yet. 

...Unfortunately for Tighnari, though, the first reason won out in her mind and she finally nodded at Paimon. "Alright," she said with a wide, excited grin. "Let's do it. Do you have a plan?"

"You bet Paimon does!" The little pixie exclaimed, motioning for her and the traveler to follow.

Aether couldn't help but feel he'd regret being involved with this later. 

..........

"And that's why all of you should take on a little extra work today!" Paimon explained, concluding her longer-than-necessary presentation. The huge group of forest rangers, whom she'd dragged out of their rooms in the dead of night to convince, all looked at her with dead expressions. Beside her, Collei seemed to get a little nervous at the silence.

"Please." She added kindly. The rangers blinked and another silence followed before one raised his hand. 

"If we agree will you let us go back to sleep?" 

"Yes!" Paimon chirped, making the whole group cheer, "...Quietly!" They immediately silenced their joy before retreating to their rooms to get a few more hours of sleep before the sun would rise. Luckily, Tighnari hadn't been scheduled for any night patrol this evening so if they kept silent enough, he wouldn't realize the entirety of Gandharva Ville had been brought out for a meeting without him. 

"I think that went well," Collei smiled as she turned to the pixie and the traveler. Paimon nodded.

"You think they'll follow through with it?" Aether asked. He didn't seem doubtful, though; just curious. 

"I do!" Collei replied, "And don't worry, I'll take on some extra work too. Between all of us forest rangers, we should be able to give Tighnari a lot less worry about!"

"Which lets us continue with the next phase of our plan..." Paimon grinned evilly despite the actual act she was doing, which was very selfless. 

"Before then, though, we should get some rest." Collei told them, "I'll meet you in the morning for breakfast, where we can continue with the next part of our plan!" They both nodded at that before the group split up and went their separate ways. 

What they didn't seem to realize, though, was that their conversation had been overheard by someone whose lips tugged into a grin.

.......... 

The next morning, Paimon, Collei, and the traveler met bright and early for breakfast. There, they went over their plan while also not-so-casually observing Tighnari from afar as he went about his morning. The other rangers hadn't taken on much of their extra work yet, considering the day had just barely gotten started, but it seemed like the lead ranger was already becoming surprised by just how little he actually needed to get done. 

He'd already checked back with one of his patients to find Collei had taken care of them before he could and that one of the nearby withering zones he'd planned on clearing today was already gone.

Things were going perfectly so far, and as soon as the group finished their breakfast, they bid one another goodbye before going their separate ways. Collei needed to do her actual job as a forest ranger trainee, and so it was the traveler and Paimon's turn to put some of this plan in motion.

They headed out to the nearest withering zone, which happened to be not far from your medical tent, and made sure they would be nearby if anyone got injured. 

When a few rangers inevitably did and started heading for your tent, Aether immediately got in their way. 

"You can't see Y/n!" Paimon exclaimed dramatically, "They're- uh, completely full! Yep! No more patients for them today; you'd better let him teleport you to see a doctor in Liyue Harbor instead." She pointed to Aether, who quickly nodded in agreement. The rangers exchanged glances among themselves but after a moment, seemed to decide the two were trustworthy because they nodded and allowed the traveler to make use of his teleport waypoints in order to take them for medical attention.

"And here I thought Y/n could never turn away patients," one of the rangers commented, "They must be beyond swamped right now! I hope they're alright."

"We should let Master Tighnari know not to send anyone else their way when we get the chance." Another agreed.

"No!" Paimon exclaimed, surprising them both. She immediately stiffened and pulled herself together, "Paimon means...We'll tell Tighnari for you! So don't worry about it!" Again, after a moment of deliberation, the rangers nodded before disappearing with Aether. The little pixie sighed in relief. If they told Tighnari not to send anyone for your medical attention, he would either suspect something was up and go talk to you about it or get worried about you and also go talk to you about it. They couldn't have that; not until they were ready for you two to meet up later. 

"Paimon just hopes Y/n won't be upset we sent their patients to Baizhu," the girl said to herself, knowing the Liyue doctor was something of a rival to you. There was no animosity there; just a bit of friendly banter, but it was enough for you not to want Gandharva Ville's people going to him over you. 

When Aether returned from teleporting the injured rangers to the harbor, he held up a thumbs up for the pixie, who nodded in relief that it had worked. They'd likely have to do this many more times today, of course; forest rangers tended to get hurt very often. But at least this meant there were two more they wouldn't need to worry about, which was better than nothing. 

After all, if they wanted you two to have time for one another later, they needed to make sure both you and Tighnari had free work schedules for the day. 

..........

"Master Tighnari!" Collei called, knowing the fox-eared forest ranger wouldn't be busy at the moment, thanks to her and the others' plan. She found said ranger near his hut, where he appeared to be cooking yet another meal that would make way too many servings for someone living alone to eat. When the green haired girl arrived, he immediately looked up at her.

"Collei, is there something you need?" He asked, clearly feeling a little awkward about being caught doing something so unproductive by his own trainee. What he didn't know was that she'd planned it that way. 

"We're out of bandages and Padisarah's." Collei informed her mentor, "And we have a patient with a wound that could really use both over at the medical tent." It wasn't totally true; she had no idea if a patient at your tent required those things. But since both the bandages and the herb were resources they went through the quickest, it was a lie Tighnari would believe and take seriously, which he did. 

"I see," he replied, glancing at the food he was still cooking, "Let Y/n know I'll head out to pick some more up today, and not to worry." He knew you too well, and had this been a real situation, Collei knew you would have called him a life-saver like you always did. She smiled, nodding with relief.

"Okay!" She told him and then went to head for the medical tent, only to pause on the way, "Would you like me to come with you to help? I know we usually buy our supplies in bulk so it could be difficult getting everything back here without a sumpter beast." Tighnari paused for a moment, remembering that the last of the sumpter beasts had been taken out that morning for other tasks (something Collei and the others had had nothing to do with but appreciated anyway). 

"Yes, I suppose that would be a big help..." He decided finally, "Thank you, Collei. We'll head out in a few minutes, but please go let Y/n know first." She nodded before running off.

Tighnari had specifically given himself extra time not only because you needed to be informed if your daughter left Gandharva Ville but also so he could finish the food he'd been preparing to give you and her for lunch. Once it was finished, he took it from the cooking pot and wrapped it so it would stay fresh until he could give it to you, which would likely be later in the evening than he'd planned. 

Collei returned a few minutes later, having actually let you know she'd be leaving but not the real reason why. Then the two of them were on their way after Tighnari checked one more time that he had no other pressing work to get done. Of course, he didn't.

Their walk to Sumeru City was quick and uneventful, and soon enough, they were in the market shopping for bandages, Padisarah's, and another item Tighnari wasn't yet aware of. 

"Master Tighnari, look!" Collei exclaimed, pointing to a formal suit that was on display at one of the clothing shops. She'd seemed so excited about it that he had to come over but was surprised now to see what exactly she'd been pointing at. 

"A...Suit?"

"Isn't it beautiful?" She asked, aware of how strange she sounded, considering she'd never showed any interest in men's formal wear before. "It reminds me of this story my parent told me once." At this, the forest ranger's fox ears perked a bit.

"Oh?" He asked, silently urging her to continue.

"After their graduation from the Akademiya, they got invited to attend a party in Fontaine," Collei explained, "When they attended, their date wore a purple suit, but it clashed with the outfit they'd picked and made them look awful together." The story she was telling was real, though you hadn't been nearly as dramatic when you'd told it as she currently was. "They broke up after that, but they always say he should have worn green like this suit because it goes with all their clothes." 

With that, she turned and walked off as if she'd finally found the Padisarah's they'd been looking for. Planting the seed of an idea in Tighnari's head would hopefully be enough and she needed to be out of the way so he didn't feel any judgement when acting on it. 

She made sure to inspect the herbs for much longer than necessary before glancing back at her mentor, who happened to have an extra shopping bag in his arms now that hadn't been there before. The suit that had been on display was also gone now, making the green haired girl's smile widen. She bought the herbs they needed and then turned back to the head forest ranger, who looked at her expectantly. 

"Ready to head back to Gandharva Ville?" He asked, "Y/n would never be upset with us for taking too long but I wouldn't put it past them to badmouth me to their patients in order to make them feel better."

"They always say having a common enemy is a big part of bedside manner," Collei giggled, "They need someone to blame for the patient's prolonged pain." Tighnari chuckled at that, shaking his head as he lead the way back towards the village.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin tighnari #tighnari #tighnari x reader #collei #parent reader #fanfic #tighnari x you #genshin collei #gender neutral #gender neutral insert #genshin reader insert #reader insert

[the-mistholme-museum]

Okay so (sorry if you've answered this before, Tumblr isn't turning anything up, but the search function is notorioisly...nonfunctioning) I have a question.

I'm trying not to give many dire spoilers to anyone else new, but what are the 'proper' pronouns for the Queen's child? Do the fae even conceptualise them the same way/does it even matter to them? I noticed that Queen usually uses 'they' for their child, but also just kind of goes with the flow well enough, and uses 'he' sometimes when Guide is using 'he' to refer to him. (And, sidenote, I'm p sure they're always or almost always referred to as they themself too. I can't remember if anyone besides Guide refers to any of the other fae using pronouns and not just titles/nomikers, and Guide assumes Stranger is 'he', but is that correct? Or, again, is there even such a thing as 'correct' when it comes to the fae? Is this something they care about? Or, also, could it be something they purposely don't clarify and prefer the ambiguity, because the less people know for certain, well...the less people know! And the less they have over you! That does seem to be how they operate).

And Beast I'm pretty sure referred to them as 'he' a couple times soon after Guide said what ppl at Mistholme knew him as, but usually defaults back to 'she' still, because that's how he remembers his friend.

I'm just interested to know if there's an answer to this, I suppose, and if it will be brought to a conclusion in the show or purposely left ambiguous. I think either way is interesting, as from my questions above, I've been turning this around a lot.

Also, related: was the whole backstory of the Queen's child, with the pulling away from family and finding a place with Beast instead, and then going back only to basically take what they could (what was theirs) and leave again, stay estranged because of the expectations of them they didn't want, plus added in that Beast literally knew his close friend as a girl only for him to be known as a man later in life... was that Supposed to be a trans allegory at inception, or was that just a happy accident? I feel like it's too much to be accidental, but I thought I'd ask. I love it either way and was really taken in by Beast's arc, and I'm very interested to see how it pans out when (if?) they [Queen's child]

Sorry that was so long lol. I've just been bingeing the show the past few days whilst i was working on things and it's been on my mind a lot!

Hey, thanks for listening and also thinking so much about the show!

I've kept things a little ambiguous with regard to the Fae's concept of gender, because it allows for the conflict between the Queen and The Man to be about more than just one thing. It's about gender, but also parental expectations and finding yourself and whatever else it sparks inside you. The Fae are very different from us in a lot of ways, but also a lot like us in others, and that means the story can resonate with our experiences without being a direct allegory.

I was definitely thinking in terms of gender discovery and transness, but from the Queen's perspective we don't even really know if that's part of it at all for them. I wrote the Fae to have a different concept of gender to us because, well, why wouldn't they? And then I've left it a bit ambiguous because explaining everything about something can make it mundane, and I definitely don't ever want the alternatural to be mundane. In my head, the Queen is The Man's only "Parent", they just decided to have an heir and kind of... manifested one? Because that seems like something a Fairy Queen would do. But that's not really important to the narrative, so, no need to include it.

Pronouns for characters are:

Guide: It/Its

The Queen: They/Them

The Man: Tricky. The people in the Museum use He/Him, because that's what they've known him as this whole time and they've never been corrected. They don't know how The Fae relate to gender and they have bigger problems at this point.

The Queen uses They/Them, because The Man is more than just an individual- they're The Heir, they're not a person they're the future, and all of The Queen's expectations made manifest. Sometimes they've said He in front of the Guide, because the Guide has actually interacted with The Man far more recently than The Queen has, and they're like... going along with that? But they always default back to neutral terms.

The Beast still thinks of The Man as their friend, the person they were when they were both cubs. It's very stuck in the past, desperate for a return, and the complexity of the Fae isn't something it understands. Sometimes it uses He/Him, but it's not really sure what it all means.

Stranger: He/Him is probably fine? I think Stranger probably changes it on a whim to mess with people anyway lol.

#mistholme #mistholme spoilers #I hope that makes sense and isn't too rambling

[shorthaltsjester]

nothing more morally reprehensible than a cleric (checks notes) using the key features of their class…? surely that can’t be where we are regarding analysis of character actions in cr at this point.

#also like. fcg already cast turn undead around laudna he knew it wouldn’t destroy her. #like fcg does make fucked up choices fairly often but the cleric desiring to cast turn undead when there are many undead creatures isn’t one #also like. yes fcg was a shithead about it w his respect the gods comments but. very very specifically laudna Has been starting shit #in every convo even tangentially related to the gods laudna is the one who without clear motive goes Well What If Gods Bad Actually #which. sure . if u had a clear reason i’d be happy to follow the trail. i’d think it’s still a dumb claim but yk #like the few times when fearne has brought it up it’s been prodding the ideas the Others have in response #and when imogen has it’s been certainly self centered but that means it’s evidently motivated whereas with laudna it’s like. it seems like #she’s just trying to stir shit up which I Would Love if we got context for the Why #laudna is just as responsible for any situation where her and fcg are disagreeing as fcg would be . because they’re Both disagreeing #also of interesting note but. fearne and fcg are much more in the midst of an obvious disagreement. fearne is a changebringer Hater™ . #anyway my point is that a lot of fcg’s character at the moment is being a weirdo about religion so . don’t be shocked when he’s a weirdo #and also. it’s so so fucking stupid to see (jester voice) The Cleric™ cast turn undead and decide it’s more about interpret conflict #than it is. fcg has a very specific build that can be pretty restrictive in terms of beneficial battle actions. let them use turn undead #cr spoilers #cr tag

[pussy-ache]

what if it was only surface level love? but did i ever want surface level? no, i never did, and i purposely looked deeper. wouldn’t it have been easier if it wasn’t genuine?

#but then what would i have learned? #what would i have gained from that? #would i still be in his life? #i can’t regret something that brought me that much fulfillment #i can rail and cry and continue to let it go day by day #but i can’t regret it. i can’t even pretend to. how do you regret something like that? it meant too much #i have to believe that any and all love being put out into the world and received is a good thing #returned is never a given and never something that’s owed. love shouldn’t be given only to be returned #it’s to be given freely. the more unconditional a love is the scarier it is. but somehow the more free you feel #that’s where the weightlessness comes it and it really is beautiful in its own way #besides. idk if i’d have the friendship i have today if i hadn’t taken the time to fall in love with him #i can’t blame kid me. she was so in love. i remember i’d stay up late to talk to him #and i’d fall asleep in between texts but i’d make sure my phone was positioned just right so that it would light up and wake me up #he helped me write some pretty beautiful poems that i still have memorized because i agonized over ever word i chose #as if i’d ever show them to him anyway. every stanza was so carefully composed #how could i be mad at her for loving someone that much? why should i be? i probably shouldn’t be that embarrassed either #it may be destined to be forever unrequited but sometimes i still feel like i got more love the way i have it now #then some people have in 50 year marriages #idk if i’m imagining that or projecting too much on it but thats how it feels sometimes #so what does it all mean in the end really? it’s all relative #no one tells you when you fall in love that the romantic version of love we’re sold is a lie #what falling in love really means is gradually accepting the growth of another person next to you #love is purely logical to me which i find ironic as it’s illogical at times to him #it’s just being quiet and observing patterns and behaviors. choosing to borrow instead of taking. #choosing to understand instead of holding onto anger #it’s the desire to plant roots next to someone purely to watch them grow and rest in their shade for a while #it’s all a choice. i did make a choice even if sometimes it feels like i got swept up and didn’t really choose #but i did. i chose my friendship with him every day. i could have walked away if i wanted to. i didn’t and i don’t and i doubt i ever will #i’d be losing too much and i know that #and it’s not like our friendship is unhealthy. he holds me accountable and has never bren afraid to challenge me. and i need more of that.

[kiyinian]

Part two

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Ex-husband Simon who: Always does the month's grocery shopping with you, always coming up with lame excuses to spend more time with you. Always encourages your children to eat a lot, sometimes even more than they should, just to make sure the food runs out quickly and that you call him to help with the groceries.

Ex-husband Simon who: Never stopped wearing his wedding ring, even though you no longer wore yours. For him, you would always be his wife, no matter what, even if you refused to wear your wedding ring again.

Ex-husband Simon who: Is very attentive to the children, always picks them up from school when you can't, who takes them out every weekend, and on vacation, takes them on trips. And of course, always thinking about spending more time with you.

Ex-husband Simon who: Knows that divorce means divorce, but can't stop giving you Valentine's Day presents every year, even if you reject being his Valentine once again.

Ex-husband Simon who: Is always available when you need him, if something has broken in the house? Don't hesitate to call him. Need to buy something? Ask him and he'll sort it out. Want a shoulder to cry on? He'll be there for you.

Ex-husband Simon who: Always pays for things for you, especially when you go out with the children. He refuses to let you pay a single penny when he's around, even though he knows you have enough money to pay for whatever you want. Just as he won't stop sending you money, even if you work.

Ex-husband Simon who: Even though you live in separate houses, he always goes to the house where you and the children are living, the usual excuse being that he was passing by, so he decided to go and see the children. And you, too.

Ex-husband Simon who: Knows it's wrong to manipulate children like this, but he induces the little ones to dislike any other man you introduce to them. No matter how good your new romantic interest is, Simon can't stand the idea of you having someone else by your side. And the children think so too.

Ex-husband Simon who: Is happy when he hears that you haven't met anyone since you split up, that no other man had caught your eye. And he could only feel the relief and hope that this brought him.

Ex-husband Simon who: Tries to win you over again, always giving you presents, calling you to dinner, being the exemplary husband you needed. All the effort that was thrown away every time you denied him, he left with a heavy heart, but destined to try as many times as necessary. There was no other person who was like you, you were the only one for him.

Ex-husband Simon who: Almost felt his heart drop out of his mouth when he saw you all dressed up for your son's second birthday, you'd only prepared a small party, no big deal. But the sight of you was still breathtaking, even more so when you smiled so sweetly. He didn't take his eyes off you once that evening.

Ex-husband Simon who: Didn't hesitate to accept when you asked to spend the night with him, after the children were asleep. And you would have time alone after a long time apart.

Ex-husband Simon who: Made love to you as if it were the last time. He caressed every part of your body, made you feel butterflies in your stomach with every kiss he gave you. He pounded into you like a maniac, as if it were his last day on earth, telling you he loved you, calling you the nicknames he knew would make you weak in the knees. He made you see stars that night.

Ex-husband Simon who: Felt heartbroken when you said that everything that had happened was a mistake, and that it was a moment of weakness. It shouldn't have happened, that's what you said, but it all seemed so right to him.

Ex-husband Simon who: Didn't understand why you were distancing yourself from him after the night you shared together, that he felt he had done something wrong to you. Who didn't understand your nervousness, the way you stuttered and fidgeted next to him, he just thought he'd done something wrong and you were angry.

Ex-husband Simon who: Had no idea that you were actually nervous not because of some action of his, but because you didn't know how to break the news to him that you were pregnant, that your evening had resulted in an unplanned pregnancy. You were carrying twins.

Ex-husband Simon who: Almost fainted when you broke the news to him, he didn't know whether to cry with relief or joy. But in any case, he was sure that he would go through hell to get you back, he was going to do everything possible and impossible to make his family what it was before.

#simon riley x female reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #cod simon riley #ghost cod #simon riley #simon riley x y/n

[celeryb1tch]

innocent!reader x experienced!pervert!abby is rotting my brain tonight!!!

18+!! this is lesbian smut!

you sit at a table in the mess hall, abby’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and her friends all enjoying their dinner. casual conversation is thrown around the table, until manny’s new fling is brought up.

“-and i mean, SOAKED the sheets. i couldn’t believe my eyes,” he recounts proudly.

everyone is laughing along or rolling their eyes, but abby notices your hesitance. she leans down toward you with a concerned look. “something wrong?”

you shake your head lightly, looking up at her. “jus’ don’t get it,” you reply.

abby feels her stomach twist. she had known there wasn’t great sex ed on the WLF base, but she and her friends had grown up around doctors like her dad and she realizes she hadn’t know the full extent of just how ignorant you were. and admittedly, it made her excited.

“she squirted when she came,” she tries to explain gently. but you still look utterly confused, even as she goes on.

“…come? and she didn’t pee?” you seem so utterly lost. abby wonders if it makes her a bad person to expose you to these ideas, but you’re both already adults. still, that knot is twisting inside her deriving a sick pleasure from all of this. you had always looked up to abby, and she wondered how wrong it would be to corrupt that relationship with talk of sex- or even a demonstration?

that night, you’re laying in bed thinking about what abby said earlier. with all the training and violence you’d grown up around, you hardly had time to pay attention to the ache between your legs, or how it would usually occur when abby was around. but as you recount that conversation in your mind, it appears once more. you think of her arm wrapping around you, pressing you into her hard front. how she was still warm and sweaty from the gym, and how her flyaways stuck to the sides of her forehead because of that. something inside of you is saying you should be embarrassed, and you don’t know exactly why- but a louder, much louder, part is telling you to confide in your best friend. she would never judge you, right?

you shuffle down a few hallways in your fluffy socks until you reach one of the bigger accommodations: abby’s room. and with a bit of hesitance in your knock, you step back as the door opens immediately.

abby is clearly groggy, and must have also been getting ready for bed. she’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts and the usual black sports bra she has on during patrols and workouts. her hair is tied in her signature braid, with more wispy pieces that have come out throughout the day. “hey, you. everything okay?”

you nod and push past abby inside as was usual. she joins you on her bed, your bare thighs touching as you both sit. her eyes are on you and you can feel it again- that heat. you pull away slightly, squeezing your legs together as it’s the only thing you know eases the feeling.

abby pretends not to notice, just like she does any other time you blatantly stare at her muscles or blush when she touches your waist. she doesn’t want to scare you off, especially when she thinks she can tell what you’re going to ask about.

“you remember earlier at dinner?” you say, biting your lip slightly as unease turns in your tummy. and abby just nods, still looking right at you. “how manny said he made a girl, uh…”

“squirt?” abby offers. she says it so nonchalantly, like it’s nothing. like she’s never in a million years thought about fucking you until you do. like she wasn’t hoping this would happen every second after dinner.

“yeah, well, i realized there’s probably a lot of sex stuff i don’t know, and since you… y’know…”

poor baby, she thinks. how will she ever work up the courage. and abby thinks of all the times she’s teased you about all the women she’s fucked. called you jealous that you had to split quality time with her one night stands. seen you pout about her missing games night because someone asked her on a date in front of you. surely you were going to ask for her expertise- for her to help you out, to show you?

“since your dad was a doctor.”

oh. that was it? you wanted a little anatomy lesson. then what was all the embarrassment for? were you that ashamed of asking for a little bit of guidance?

abby gives you a soft smile and an assurance that she can help. and your body floods with relief. this is normal. you can tell her what you’re feeling and she won’t act weird. she can help you.

you stand up and strip off your pyjama bottoms and big shirt you had likely stolen from abby so long ago you don’t remember whose it was in the first place. and she just watches, small smile still on her face as she looks you over.

“okay, so right here? boobs, obviously.” she points to your chest, and you roll your eyes.

“i know that, stupid. show me the more advanced stuff.”

“you’ll have to take your underwear off then.” so you do.

abby instinctively reaches for it, stroking her fingers between your puffy, wet lips. her eyes are shining with admiration and her cheeks are hot.

you pull away slightly at the bolt of pleasure that spikes through you at her touch. “is it… supposed to look like this? i think there’s something wrong.”

she shakes her head fervently, eyes never leaving your pussy. “you’re just wet, that’s all. did something turn you on?” and at your confusion at the term- “get you excited? when girls see something attractive, they get wet.”

oh no. you can feel dread flooding your senses as you try to scramble for an explanation. that it just happens sometimes. that’s normal, right?

after a pause, and a look at your face, abby knows exactly what happened. “oh. you got wet from me, huh?”

you want to run away and disappear. you swallow a sob, but strangely, you feel that pulsing sensation again. all of this attention from abby isn’t working in your favour.

but she isn’t grimacing in disgust, or even asking you to leave. in fact, abby has a shit-eating grin on her face as she watches you cower in front of her.

“you’re not… mad?” you ask sheepishly.

abby reaches out to you, pulling you onto her lap. “no, baby, of course not. it’s cute.”

relief washes over you, but before you can really relax you feel abby’s hand once again on your folds.

“so wet for me, baby. how long has this been happening?”

a finger skims against a particularly sensitive spot, and you choke on your words, succumbing to the blissful feeling. “s-so long, abs. like forever.”

“poor girl. so pent up, so needy. and too embarrassed to tell me.”

“yeah…” you whine. you’re clinging to abby like a lifeline, overwhelmed by the building tension. it’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before. so intense, so all-consuming.

abby’s fingers are expertly caressing your pussy, steadily adding more pressure so as not to overstimulate you. “this is the clit,” she murmurs, and you feel that electric spark again as she glides over one specific spot at the top.

“it’s too much,” you cry out, wriggling under her grasp.

“that means you’re cumming soon,” she explains with a chuckle. “feels so good, trust me. just ride it out.”

and you trust abby with every ounce of your being, so you try to relax your muscles as much as possible while you feel that climbing feeling come to a boil. and she was so right. you’re huffing tiny sobs into her chest as you come down, her strokes easing as you’re finally able to catch your breath again.

abby cradles you into her, clean hand running through your hair. you can feel the puddle between your thighs dripping down her own and onto the sheets, and you’re so exhausted.

“that was so hot, baby. did such a good job for me.”

“abs, that was… wow.”

she’s smiling down at you, admiring your sweat- wicked face. “bet you wish you’d asked me sooner, huh?”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #molly’s abby recs! #molly’s!

[lovebugism]

eddie fucking you in the back of his van whilst it’s raining😫

hope you like it lovie!! — after a series of ruined date nights, eddie makes up for another failure the only way he knows how (established relationship, smut 18+, 1.4k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie was gonna take you out, come hell or high water — literally.

It was like the universe was conjuring up ways to keep you apart. He tries to plan a date night with you, and suddenly you have to pick up your coworker’s extra shift and the brakes in his van don’t work anymore.

He takes you to a drive-in to see some black-and-white horror movie, and for the first time in weeks, things are actually looking pretty good. With some candy he brought from home, the two of you settle under the covers in the back of his van, lazing against one another as the projector flickers on.

And then it just starts fucking pouring.

It’s like he blinks and the whole thing gets canceled and the entire parking lot is empty.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he grumbles under his breath, not unlike the black storm clouds rolling overhead.

You giggle at his dramatics. The heavenly sound melts with the wild cadence of rain, tapping rhythmically against the rusted tin roof of the van. 

You’re still being a good sport about the whole thing despite the circumstances. You don’t care what you’re doing, really. You’re happy just doing nothing with Eddie. 

“They refunded us for next week. We can just come back Saturday.”

“I wanted to do it this Saturday,” he whines, all boyishly angry. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leans his head back and bares his milky white neck. “This was supposed to be our night together— why does everything have to get so fucked all the time?”

“It’s not like everything’s totally ruined,” you assure him, practically cooing as you smooth out the frown between his brows with your thumb. “At least we’re together. Who cares about the rest of it?”

“I know, but… You were really excited about it. And I was really excited to watch you watch the movie.”

Eddie tries to be serious, but he’s grinning the second he makes you laugh.

“Shut up…”

“I mean it,” he tells you, serious and quiet with it. His cheek squishes against his shoulder when he pouts at you. “I think I might be heartbroken, babe.”

You know what he’s playing at. You lean into it, anyway.

“Yeah?” you hum with narrowed eyes.

He nods.

“Want me to make it better?”

“Please?”

You close the short distance between you to press a kiss to his mouth. It’s the chastest little peck — you’re practically gone the second you’re there. Eddie chases you when you pull away, tasting of nicotine and pink starbursts when he kisses you deeper.

You get lost in him like it’s nothing, sighing when his soft tongue juts gently against your own. He’s sucking softly at your bottom lip one second, and the next, you’re lying on a pile of fuzzy blankets.

His rings and cold knuckles brush your sides when he tugs at the hem of your shirt, a silent plea for its removal. You come to then, pulling back from him with a low click sounding between your kissed mouths.

“Wait…”

“What?” he wonders, lips rosy and swollen. His deep, chocolate eyes dart between both of yours, looking for any sign that something might be wrong.

“Won’t we get in trouble?”

“No— Everyone already left.”

He’s breathless from having been kissed so ardently. He leans down for more anyway. His stomach twists with rejection when you press against his shoulders to stop him.

With a sigh, he concedes and rises off of you again. His shirt is wrinkled and skewed around his neck from your passionate touches. Still on his knees, he reaches for the metal handle of the back door and shouts into the roaring rain — “Hello? Anyone out here?”

“Eddie!” you shout, giggling and jerking backward when rogue droplets sprinkle inside.

The van shakes when he slams the door shut again.

“See?” he lilts with a lopsided grin. “No one.”

You shake your head at him. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“You love me, though,” he mutters as he settles back over you. The weight of his body is warm against your own. With your hands on his sides, you pull him somehow closer.

“Unfortunately…” you gripe, kissing the breath from his lungs a second later.

When he reaches for the hem of your shirt again, you let him take it off.

—————

The thundering rain against the roof almost drowns out your gentle moans. Eddie’s glad you’re breathing them right into his ear, so he can hear everything he’s doing to you. 

His thrusts are slow and measured. Almost painfully unrushed. He shushes your begging to go faster — “Just let me make you feel good,” he mutters, slurred and low, “Let me hit that spot.” He pierces you with his cock, tilting his hips to hit deep inside you until you make a pretty noise for him, then he creeps back out again.

He never pulls all the way out, though, ‘cause he might die if he left the warm velvet you are around him. He keeps his pelvis pressed intently against your own, the coarse hair at the base of his cock steady on your pussy. The pressure against your clit is merciless.

“Put your legs around me, baby,” he mumbles against your mouth because he knows the different angle will make it better for you. 

He almost smirks when you obey him without thinking, but his mouth parts with an unexpected moan before he can. You pull your knees back and tuck your ankles around his waist, heels pressing gently above his ass. 

Your cunt widens and suckles him further in.

Eddie grumbles a hearty, poorly muffled moan into your neck.

“There you go— just like that,” he praises. “Doing so good for me, pretty. Always so good for me.”

You whine again, high and light, like the praise is equally as pleasurable as his cock.

His metal chain glides between your breasts when he pulls back from you. He tucks his ringed fingers into your waist and sits back on his haunches, balls resting warm and wet against your ass. He keeps rocking into you, unhurried.

“What happened to that mouth you had before, huh?” Eddie wonders, still breathless.

He smirks when you moan in response. He knows you don’t have the words to answer him. He knows he’s fucked you far too stupid.

“Thought I was incorrigible, remember? What happened to that?”

Your mouth parts in a silent whimper, back arching and brows pinching when his cock hits deeper than you think he’s ever been. The pleasure feels borderline electric — makes your spine tingle and your legs go numb.

“Yeah… For someone who loves mouthing off—” Eddie continues to tease despite his breathlessness. You clench around him, and he has to remember to exhale. “—You open up so easily for me. Don’t ya, honey?” 

You wanna say something. You think you almost do. But his thrusts are as merciless as they are slow. He presses impossibly deep within you and keeps hitting that spot until you tremble. The words get caught in your throat, along with a silent moan.

“That’s okay, honey. Just let me fuck you. Let me make you feel good,” Eddie slurs, mumbling like he’s talking to himself. “Go dumb for me like you always do. So perfect at that— god.”

He tilts his head back to howl a groan. Through fluttering lashes and a blurry vision, you see his clenched jaw and taut neck and heaving chest. 

Eddie always talks a big game when he gets you all sweet and pliable underneath him. He loves to be dominant while he tears you apart, but as his own orgasm crawls up his spine, his true colors start to show.

He leans back over you again, caging you beneath his warm weight. He stops hiding his pathetic whines and whimpers and instead buries them into your sweat-slick shoulder. He babbles in your ear, a bunch of garbled nothingness because words are starting to lose meaning.

“Fuck, honey. Oh, fuck— you’re so fucking— shit. You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, you know that? So good for me. So soft, too. Shit. This pussy’s gonna kill me.”

He tucks his face into your neck and tries to kiss you through his whines. His ringed fingers crawl behind your back, holding you like his life depends on it while his measured thrusts grow rapid and sloppy. 

Eddie begs you to cum, or rather demands it because he can feel himself about to explode. “Cum— Cum for me— right fucking now.”

You do. You’ve been hanging by a thread the whole time, really. And like you expected, Eddie’s not too far behind you. Your unabashed moans entwine, mixing with the wild cadence of the rain against the tin roof of the rocking van.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

[daycourtofficial]

Come to Bed

Summary: based on this request - a text from Azriel was meant to go to you, but went to his entire family instead.

Author’s note: I loved this idea this was so fun and definitely very on brand for the inner circle tbh

Az: Come to bed :(

It was a short message. Azriel had been sick for two days now, and since meeting you, he can’t remember how he’d just go on during his sick days.

He used to go to work just fine while sick. He’d wear a mask and keep his distance, but he’d be able to go no problem.

But ever since you came into his life, now he was too spoiled when he was sick to go anywhere or do anything. You had insisted that your cuddles would heal him, along with the various soups you made him eat every day.

Honestly? It was a little awesome. If it weren’t for how shitty he felt, that is. You rubbed his back until he fell asleep, whenever he got up to shower you washed his sheets, and you brought him medicine every few hours. He didn’t have to lift a finger, and he was soaking in every moment of your attention.

But now you were downstairs, talking with Elain about something or another. You had told him what for before you left, but his feverish haze had made him forget. He woke up alone, having dozed off in your absence, and all he wanted was you to come back. He had just texted you to come back to bed when his door creak opens.

Azriel pops his head out of the nest he made to find Cassian crawling up his bed on top of the covers, wrapping his arms around Azriel, and spooning him over the covers.

Azriel coughs, “what are you doing here?”

“You asked for me to come to bed.”

Azriel’s head hurts trying to figure out what he means when his door opens once more to Rhysand strolling through the room, lying on Az’s other side.

“Ah, come on Azzy. It’s just like when we were younger,” Cassian tells him, his body heat helping with the chills taking over Azriel’s body.

Azriel sniffles, “we were like eight years old.”

“Well, Cassian hasn’t matured much since then,” Rhysand chimes in, staying on the bed but not too close to Az. He’ll provide some level of comfort with his presence, but he’ll be damned if he lets his brother get him sick.

“Why are you two here?” Azriel croaks, every word hurting his poor throat.

Rhys opens his phone to show him the family groupchat they had, the last message coming from Azriel saying, “Come to bed :(“

Azriel groans reading it, “I’m sure you could guess I sent it to the wrong person.”

Cassian chuckles, causing vibrations through Azriel’s back. He’s too weak to fight Cassian off of him, and the weight of him actually feels nice. Maybe Cassian would make a great weighted blanket after all.

“I never second guess any texts I receive. I assumed you missed me, it has been days since you’ve seen my glorious face.”

Cassian and Azriel continue bickering while Rhysand watches in amusement.

Mor comes in shortly after, bringing a warm cup of tea for both herself and Azriel, handing one mug to him while lounging across the foot of the bed. The tea soothes his throat, and he hates to admit it, but he does appreciate the presence of his family. He had been quarantined for days, trying to keep to his room as much as possible. He had grown quite accustomed to his big, invasive family. Your company was more than enough, but he did miss Cassian’s daily debriefs of his day.

Feyre comes in, taking residence next to Mor, as Cassian tells them all ridiculous versions of how he managed to destroy that building in the Summer Court. Each tale more ridiculous than the last, with Feyre even adding her own absurd version of events.

“I heard that a dragon flew in and Cassian fought it off with his bare hands and the only damage was that one building!”

Their laughter rings in Az’s ears as he closes his eyes, dozing, but not truly asleep.

You were shocked walking back to Az’s bedroom to find both of his brothers, Feyre, and Mor all lounging in bed with him. Azriel perks up at your figure in the doorway, somehow knowing you were there despite his resting state. His voice crackles from his sore throat, “save me?”

You walk in, squeezing yourself between Rhys and Azriel, and your boyfriend melts in your arms, falling asleep quickly as his family still chatters around you.

The next time Azriel wakes up, it’s dark outside, but he’s still cuddled to your chest.

“Hi sweetheart,” you tell him, setting your book down. He practically purrs at you running your hand through his hair.

“Sleep well?”

He presses his face back into your chest. “I would have slept better if they weren’t all annoying.”

You laugh, leaning over to kiss the crown of his head.

“Poor baby with a loving family,” you coo, and he huffs.

“They’re not loving, they’re annoying busybodies. Except Feyre. She hasn’t gotten that bad yet.”

You smile, untangling his hair with your fingers.

“They might be annoying busybodies, but they love you and you love them.”

He squeezes you a little tighter. “I’m sick. I only have so much love to give and it’s all going towards you.”

You laugh, your hand moving down to stroke his back. He relaxes in your embrace, your fingers soothing his clammy skin.

“Okay, you can wait until you’re feeling better to love them again.”

“Deal,” he tells you, eyes growing heavy once more. “Just - don’t tell Cassian. He’ll get upset.”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar writing #azriel x y/n

[roanniom]

mechanic eddie is so hot that id break my car on purpose to see him

The Tune-Up

Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex / PIV sex / semi-public sex, dry humping, really shitty and poorly research car mechanic details

So maybe you intentionally bought a clunker when your last car finally bit the dust. Maybe you found a perpetual lemon of a car that you positively knew would conk out on you every other week meaning you just happen to need to take it to the shop all the time. The shop with the hot mechanic who always has his greased up coveralls pulled down and tied around his waist, revealing the tattoos and muscle and sinew that you could look at for hours on end.

So what?

It's the fourth time this month that you have had to roll your hunk of junk into his garage, and you check your make up in the rear view mirror before hopping out, arranging your hand casually on your hip as you see him walking up, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Eddieeeee. It's making that clanking sound again," you call out in a sing-song voice. Eddie gives you a lopsided grin and sweeps his messy curls up into a ponytail, giving you the perfect view of his stretching pecs beneath his thin tank top.

"You know you don't have to keep abusing that poor car just to see me. You can just ask me out, sweetheart."

Your heartbeat leaps into your throat and your jaw trembles.

"I...that's...I..."

"I'm just messin' with you!" Eddie chuckles at your sudden speechlessness and grabs a wrench, kicking the creeper in front of him and flopping down on it to roll under your car on his back.

The moment he disappears you bite your lip to contain a groan. The man is just so fucking fine. You tilt your head to take in the flexing of his thighs - his lower half the only thing visible right now - under the material of his coveralls. Your appreciation is cut short, however, when he rolls out only a moment after.

“You’re staring, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky grin, rolling back out from under your car but remaining on his back on the roller.

You look away abruptly at being caught.

“You know my car really does just suck and break and stuff,” you argue lamely in answer to his earlier question. Eddie barks out a laugh and rests his arms behind his head so he can relax there while staying reclined and looking up at you. It gives him a perfect vantage point up your skirt, but he keeps his eyes trained on your face.

“How do you know I don’t keep rigging it to break myself so you have to keep coming back here?” Eddie says in a lilting tease. Your gaze snaps back to him and he raises his eyebrows in a challenge. You feel your entire body come alive at the implication of his statement but try to calm your heart beat by remembering that he's always this flirty.

"Oh yeah? Angling for more chocolate chip cookies there, Munson?" you ask, referring to the fact that you'd brought him cookies as an additional tip during the last few tune ups. Eddie licks his lips and looks you up and down slowly in a way that has your stomach flipping. It's almost like he's considering something. His smile is large when it seems like he's made his decision.

"Angling for a kiss is more like it."

Blood rushes to your ears. If he said anything else, you wouldn't be able to hear it because suddenly you're feeling like you're going to pass out and your vision narrows to the point that he's the only thing you can see.

It's late in the day on a Friday and Eddie's the only one in the shop for closing. You know that. It's why you come on those days in particular, to ensure you get him all on your own. The garage door is open to an empty street that's far enough off the beaten path that you don't think any passersby will be ambling around anytime soon.

So you drop your bag, inhale sharply to hold your breath, and step forward so that you stand with your feet planted on either side of his stretched out legs. Eddie's smile widens with surprise that you've actually taken the bait, but his eyes widen even more when you drop down to straddle his lap.

He'd expected you, at most, to kneel down beside him and playfully peck his cheek. Worst case scenario you'd tell him off for his cheekiness.

But here you are, skirt fanned out around to obscure the fact that you are now pelvis to pelvis. You drop your hands to his chest, fisting fingers in his dirty tank top over the knot of his coverall arms tied at his waist.

"Do you want payment before services or after?" you ask, voice surprisingly steady in spite of the rush of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins. Eddie looks dumbfounded for only a split second before the cocky attitude is back. His hands find your thighs and grip you, holding you down against the most intimate part of him.

"How 'bout a down payment to start with?" he asks, sliding his hands up your hips and to your waist, most likely leaving the material smudged with grease. You don't care at all, of course. He could cover your whole body in grease if it meant you got to feel his hands on you everywhere.

So you lean down and bring your lips to his. Your initial intent is a quick peck. But after your mouths meet, Eddie's lips part to let out a sinful moan and suddenly one of his hands is cupping the back of your neck to keep you down on top of him. The peck becomes a kiss, and even that morphs into something a lot more dirty and a lot less dignified.

Not that there's anything dignified about straddling your mechanic in the first place.

"Wow. I never want another fucking chocolate chip cookie ever again," Eddie grunts against your neck once he's pulled away to give you a chance to breathe. You giggle but it turns into a moan as he proceeds to immediately suck a hickie into the skin of your throat.

"I'm glad this form of payment works - ah! Works for you!" you say breathlessly as he moves his lips up to drag and suck at the spot behind your ear. His hands grip your waist so tightly that you feel yourself sinking against him as snug as you can get, the pulse between your legs becoming more and more insistent.

"I'm sorry, but your cash is no longer any good here, baby," Eddie rumbles into your skin and all the laughter stops because in that moment you feel the heat emanating from yourself and from him and that is the exact second that you feel his hardness nudging against you.

You pull back to make eye contact, find him glassy eyed and kiss bitten and rumpled staring back up at you.

"Well I guess we can get that figured out when you finish the job," you whisper, experimentally swirling your hips. Eddie's feet plant more firmly on the floor to keep the motion from pushing the roller, and his now bent thighs create a slope that causes you to slide further down and into his crotch. You both groan collectively at the increased contact.

"I already finished actually. So we can discuss payment now," Eddie says, leaning up and capturing your lips again. You pull back a second later, however, when his words finally register.

"What do you mean you already finished?"

"I just had to tighten a bolt," Eddie says with a grin, lifting up the wrench he had abandoned at his side the moment you'd dropped down on him. Your eyes narrow and your heart skips a beat at the implication.

"How did you know that's all that needed to be done?"

Eddie's grin becomes sheepish, as you anticipated. He drops the wrench back on the ground and rubs the back of his neck.

"I might have....uh....left it a little loose after your last visit. Just to make sure you'd....you know. Brighten this shop up again soon."

You try your best to hide the massive smile threatening to burst out on your face. But you make sure to ask the first question on your mind.

"My car couldn't have, like, fallen apart on the highway or anything with that bolt loose could - ,"

"Oh fuck no!" Eddie cuts you off, gripping at your waist suddenly with how fervent he is in his need to assure you. "I would never have let you drive it if it was dangerous." He averts his eyes before looking back at you with humor sparkling in them. "Now did I want it to make a harmless loud noise so suspicious you had to come back in? Yes."

"Shame on you," you cry out without any malice behind the words at all. In fact, you're laughing and leaning down to kiss him again. Your eagerness causes you to rock up against him and before long, the two of you are back at it hot and heavy.

"Hey," Eddie says, attempting to pull back after a while. You, however, are the one to blaze a trail of kisses down his neck this time. He sucks in a breath and continues. "Hey. I get off in about a half an hour."

"Don't want to wait that long for you to get off. Want it to happen right now," you whisper in his ear before sucking his ear lobe into your mouth. Eddie's eyes roll so far back into his head at the action and the innuendo and you feel his hard cock positively jump against you.

"Can't do this while I'm working, baby," Eddie groans, though his hands actively contradict his words by gripping your hips and encouraging them to continue moving against him.

"Isn't my car the last one for the day?" you ask innocently. As if you aren't grinding your clothed pussy all over his erection out in the open in his place of business with the garage door open and the sun still out. "And you did such a good job fixing it."

"Holy fuck..." Eddie breathes. He had been the confident one. He had been the forward one. He's not sure when the dynamic shifted but dear fucking god he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He does still try his best to at least attempt to be a gentleman, though.

"But I'll get you all dirty. Don't wanna ruin your pretty clothes." Eddie says this while biting his lip and sliding his hands down to squeeze at your ass. It makes you gasp and push down against him even harder, exactly as he'd hoped.

"I don't believe you," you breathe. Eddie captures your mouth in another kiss before shaking his head, distracted.

"What don't you believe?"

"I don't believe that you don't want to ruin my clothes. I think you want to get me all dirty," you challenge. Eddie lifts his hand to your face and holds your chin suddenly between his thumb and index finger, staring deeply into your eyes.

"You're a tease and I love it, sweetheart," he says with a chuckle that makes you preen. "But I need to know...what do you actually want right now?"

"You," you say, not even skipping a beat. Eddie's eyes become serious.

"How...how much of me are we talkin'?"

"All of it," you say, your grin spreading.

"Mother of fucking Christ," Eddie grits out before holding onto you tight and pushing off with his feet, rolling the two of you further behind his work bench, effectively shielding you from the outside world. You squeal at the sudden motion and cling to him, so he uses that to his advantage, attaching his lips to your pulse point. One particularly generous suck to your juggular has you keening and bucking down against him, much to his insane pleasure.

"Oh god. Eddie," you gasp. Eddie closes his eyes and furrows his brow.

"Yeah. Say my name again. Please." He attempts to soften the command with the nicety but you would have screamed his name for much less. You sit up more fully in his lap and help him untie the knotted arms of his coveralls, unzipping the last part of them and exposing the tented front of his boxers. He'd felt huge but he looks even bigger.

"Eddie," you whisper, making eye contact before rubbing your hand over his clothed length. His brow furrows even deeper and you could laugh but you don't. Just like you don't continue to tease him because you're teased out yourself. You need him inside you, like, yesterday. So you pull his boxers down and ogle the length and width of him. Everything you could want him to be.

"Can you...you wanna even the playing field here, sweetheart?" Eddie asks with a silly grin that knocks the wind out of you. You nod without even stopping to get too self conscious, swiftly unbuttoning your blouse and letting the two sides hang open, revealing your bra-clad breasts. Eddie groans like he'd been punched.

"You're a fucking goddess, are you fucking kidding me?" he says, as if you've personally offended him. You chuckle at that.

"I think the exhaust fumes in here have messed with your brain, Munson."

Eddie simply snaps the front clasp of your bra, releasing your breasts to that they fall out with a bounce. Eddie moans like a wounded animal.

"Exhaust fumes my ass. You are unbelievable." His hands immediately close around you, squeezing and weighing. "These tits are magnificent."

You scoff at his word choice.

"You're ridiculous," you try to dismiss him, but his fingers playing with your nipple makes it hard to concentrate on any emotion other than lust. You begin gyrating your hips in search of friction, the hood of your mound pressing up against his erection and creating much needed pressure, even through your clothes.

"No, you're ridiculous trying to pretend like you can wait for this dick," Eddie mocks you, noticing exactly what you're doing. You look at him, biting on the inside of your cheek.

"As if you aren't the one making me wait," you toss back. Eddie's eyebrows raise in a challenge.

"You're the one on top, princess."

You huff and immediately lift yourself up, dropping back down over him so that your skirt obscures his view. But Eddie doesn't need to see in order to feel the tightness of you lowering yourself down onto him.

"Holy fucking - ,"

"Shit!" you interrupt him with your own cry. While you're certainly turned on, it was absolutely absurd for you to try and fit him in without any preparation. Eddie is bigger than anyone you've been with before and he's instantly deeper than you knew was possible, thanks to gravity.

"Fuck, that too much, baby?" Eddie asks, immediately alert and clutching your hips, attempting to keep you balanced above him before your pelvises can meet fully. Fuuuck, he's not even all the way in!

"J-just.....oh god. You're just really big," you whimper. Eddie makes to pull you off him but you dig your fingernails into his arms. "No don't want to get off just - ah. I need a minute. Need to...oh."

You're entire body begins trembling when Eddie's finger begins rubbing circles into your clit. You shudder and then feel yourself sink down a little further on his cock. The attention to your sensitive clit has your thighs widening, your muscles relaxing and your pussy becoming wetter by the second.

"Relax. Mmmm there it is, good girl."

His words practically do more than the finger on your clit and you arch into him, rocking against him shallowly.

After another few minutes of these ministrations, you finally feel yourself growing impatient and increasingly turned on. Experimentally you lift up with your thigh, rising till only his tip is inside you, before sinking back down slowly. Your breath is punched out of you with a hiss, but another moment passes and soon you're able to do it again, faster this time. Eventually you work yourself up to a rhythm, bouncing yourself up and down his cock while his face screws up and his fingers dig into your thighs.

"Wanted this for a long time, princess," Eddie grunts out. "Every time you came in I imagined bending you over that hunk of junk you call a car and fucking you till you couldn't walk."

You gasp at his dirty admission and, feeling emboldened by his honesty, decide to be honest yourself.

"I always wanted you to take me in the backseat and fuck me," you whine. Eddie bucks up into you, the drastic motion causing you to both shift back and forth due to the rocking of the roller you're still precariously perched on.

"We're doing this again, you know," Eddie says matter-of-factly. You must look confused by his words because he continues on fervently. "I may have pictured you with this car, but I'm fucking you in a bed next time," he insists. "Okay maybe a kitchen counter if we can't make it to the bedroom, but either way you deserve a room with a closed door."

You laugh at his words, clenching internally and causing him to moan in the process. You're quickly brought back from humor to urgency when you feel his finger on your clit again.

"Yeah. Yeah we're doing this again," you practically hiccup.

Eddie pulls you down on top of him so that he can lick and nip at your neck, his hand still sandwiched between the two of you.

"Listen to the greedy girl. Already thinking of the next time I'll be inside her."

"You're the one who brought up the subject of a next time!" you accuse, but you lose your bite the second he bites into the side of your throat. He soothes the spot with a lave of his tongue.

"Cum on me, baby, and we can get to that next time sooner."

When you cum, only moments later, your cry echoes throughout the garage. The reverberating sound comes back to your ears and shocks you enough that you almost fall out of your ascending headspace, but Eddie's grunts in your ear and fingers digging into your skin block it all out and keep you grounded to him. This allows you to enjoy your orgasm and even benefit from aftershocks as he takes over and plows up into you, chasing his own release. His haphazard thrusts cause the two of you to roll back and forth on the roller. You cling to him to stay stable with all the movement, and your sudden tensing has you clenching around him so tight he has no time to warn you of his impending orgasm. He just calls out your name and drives his cock deep inside you, spilling out into with sputtering hips.

It takes a while for the proverbial dust to settle. Eddie's hand on your back is soothing, but you quickly realize that your thighs are over extended and your body aches from the strenuousness of your sexual activity.

"Easy there, princess," Eddie coos. He helps you up, his cock sliding out of you with the movement. Like a gentleman he slides your panties back over your dripping slit, patting the wet spot fondly, before dropping the hem of your skirt and shifting to guide you up.

You wobble on embarrassingly unstable legs.

"Jesus christ, what did you do to me?" you huff. Eddie encircles you in his arms and lets out a bark of a laugh.

"What did I do?! How is it that you never fully realized that you were on top?" he asks, echoing his previous sentiments. You help him pull his coveralls up to tie at his waist again and he graciously helps button you back into your blouse.

"Well next time I want you to do all the work," you respond cheekily. Eddie's eyes spring back to yours and for a moment you hesitate, wondering if his earlier words were simply born of the heat of the moment. But Eddie's looking at you like you hung the fucking mood and suddenly he's kissing you. Bold and ardently and with a lot of tongue that says everything he wishes to say to you simply with the press of wet muscle to wet muscle.

When he pulls away his lips are shiny and bruised and you're out of breath. He gives you a lopsided smile and scrunches his nose.

"Next time do I still have to fix your car, or -?"

You slap him on the chest and pull him back in for another kiss.

~*~

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Hoping tumblr doesn't cut off the actual end of the story!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things smut

[rogueddie]

Hair Care T | 1,749 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is what makes you brave

Steve learnt early on that if he makes his hair all soft, fluffy and big, then girls would play with his hair. He's always loved having people touching his hair.

But after the Demogorgon, after he gets his act together? Suddenly, no one wants to touch his hair. No one comments on it, or even looks at it like they're so much as thinking about it.

And it is driving Steve insane.

"I can't just ask for it!" He complains. "That's weird and- and what if they take it the wrong way? What if I sound too weird or desperate?"

"I'm the wrong person for the weird complaint," Eddie points out. "And I still don't get the problem. What about Robin?"

Robin is convinced that all his little lines, trying to encourage attention towards his hair as subtly as he can, are all pick-up lines.

To be fair to her, she has only ever seen him using said lines when he's flirting. But they're supposed to be little hints, a nudge and a wink. Friendly- playful even.

But, because of that, he has a nasty feeling that she would take any hint or request about his hair as romantic. And the last thing Steve wants to do is make Robin uncomfortable.

"Ok, yeah, I see the problem there," Eddie hums, considering. "What about the kids? El and Max. They adore you and love playing with each others hair."

El had asked to play with his hair once.

She'd heard, somehow, that his hair is 'famous' in Hawkins and had wanted to see why. She encouraged Max to join her, even though she mostly ended up petting him like a dog.

Max had seemed to enjoy it more than El, but not by much, and the snickers from the other kids had been enough for him to refuse to let them "go again".

He's the babysitter, he needs at least some dignity.

"But did you like it?" Eddie presses.

"Well, yeah," Steve mumbles, snuffing his slipper on the carpet. "It was nice or whatever. Not worth the jabs though."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Didn't feel worth it."

"Hmm..." Eddie pauses again, frowning as he looks him over. "Well... what was it specifically about what they did that was so nice? Has anyone else done that for you?"

Tommy used to play with his hair constantly. He was a quick learner and, with how much Carol visibly and vocally enjoyed watching them, there wasn't any shame.

They both seemed to enjoy themselves more whenever they could convince Steve to sit on the floor, so Tommy could scratch at his head more effectively.

"Which..." Steve pauses, frowning. "In retrospect was probably some weird power play thing. Like, I was the king at school but a dog at home."

"Yikes."

"Yeah."

But they knew exactly what he liked and they were good at it.

Tommy knew that he loves the back of his ears scratched, likes the small strands at his neck tugged. He knew that Steve loved the feeling of fingers brushing his fringe back, especially when he'd get rough and push his head back a little with the motion.

They knew what he needed.

"Well... I could do that," Eddie suggests. "I mean... if you want. It's not like it would be a hardship."

"Really? You wouldn't be uncomfortable?"

"Not at all. As long as you're ok with it, it's all good."

"That- yeah. Yeah, I'm on with that."

That's how it starts.

Steve had sat on the floor, in front of the sofa where Eddie was sat. It reminded him of Tommy for a moment, but Eddie quickly brought him back to the moment with a hand on his shoulder.

"This alright for you?" He asked, squeezing gently when Steve nodded. "Alright. Just let me know if it's bad, too much or you want to stop."

"Okay."

He had thought that would be it, though. Moments when they hung out in private, a thing for them that no one else was allowed in on.

But Eddie starts playing with his hair. All the time.

If he can find an excuse, he abuses it. Even in Family Video, busy with people and customers lining up in front of Robin, right next to them. Eddie just... leans forward, reaches out and pushes his hair back.

He does it so casual, so out in the open, that- somehow- Robin is the only one who gives them a strange look.

On movie nights, he's started putting a pillow down on the floor between his feet. When Steve comes in with popcorn, Eddie gives it a pointed look and raises an eyebrow at him.

It's so much, so often. Steve loves it, has never been so happy for so long. It leaves him feeling high sometimes.

All good things, for him, come to an end though. And his comes in the form of Robin Buckley.

"I'm not saying I have a problem with any of it!" She clarifies, right off the bat. "If it's just a friendship thing, that's amazing. I love how happy you are, really, and I don't want that to go away, and I know-"

"Robs," Steve interrupts. "Slow down. I don't know what you're trying to say."

She stood, staring at him for a moment, seeming to vibrate with her need to speak, before finally blurting out-

"Are you and Eddie dating?"

"Wh- what? No, that's... no. Why do you, uhm, think that?"

"Steve," she whines. "I know about your hair lines, remember? One of them must have worked with how addicted he's got to yours."

"Oh, that... no, that's not what's happened. Those aren't lines, I just... I really like people playing with my hair."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Wait, that still sounds suspicious. He plays with your hair all the time because he knows how much you like it?"

"No one else was going to."

"Oh my god," she rolls her eyes, stepping closer so she lightly tug at his hair. "I would have been doing this all the time if I knew it was ok!"

"Oh, uh, sorry?"

"No apologies, just tell me when you started crushing on Munson."

"How-?"

"I know you, dingus. Apparently not as well as I had hoped I did, but I do. And you're gone on him. When. Did it start?"

The first time Steve realized that he was feeling more than 'friendship feelings' for Eddie was when he was eating at his new trailer.

Wayne had come home early and was surprised to see that Eddie had a guest over.

But Eddie was too busy jumping up, excited to introduce them, to notice.

"Wayne! This is Steve, I've told you about Steve, he's great," Eddie said. "Steve, this is my uncle, Wayne. He's amazing, don't worry, he doesn't bite."

Steve had quickly stood extending an arm, and introduced him properly. He made sure to add a quick 'sir' at the end.

Wayne had quickly dismissed the title, turning to Eddie with a fond look, and said, "what was it you called him? Pr-"

"Shut up," Eddie was fast to interrupt, hands waving around.

And Steve realized that he was feeling hope. He was filled with hope that Eddie had said what his uncle seemed to about to say.

He realized that he wanted Eddie to think of him as pretty. He wanted Eddie to find him so pretty that he told his uncle.

It was a warm feeling, fluttering through his stomach- a feeling that he is all too familiar with.

"I'm gagging," Robin says, monotone. "But that does help."

"Help? How?"

"Uh, because he's obviously into you too!"

"Robs, I don't know..."

"Come on, it'll be easy. He already likes you, so you don't have to try so hard. Just a little thing that lets him know you like him. One of your moves-"

"No, Robs... I'm sure that he likes me too, at least a little, that's not the problem."

"What is them?"

"I... I've never, like... been with a guy. What if I do it wrong?"

"Steve," Robin grabs both of his shoulders. "He likes you. All you have to be is yourself."

"I don't know if I c-"

"You can, and you will. We'll think of a plan that cannot fail, you'll put on your brave pants, and we'll kick this problems ass."

"My brave pants? It's brave face."

"No, I mean those pants that you're always saying make your ass look good. Those are your brave pants."

"... Ok, yeah, they are."

It doesn't take them long to settle in a plan. It's simple, easy. It shouldn't give Steve enough time to doubt himself.

Eddie arrives on time, knocking on the door at the exact time it turns four p.m.

"Hi!" Steve greets, wincing at how overenthusiastic he is. "Come in."

"You alright?"

"Yeah, fine, just... slow day. Too much energy. Come on, I made too much food earlier if you want some."

"You know I'll never turn down free food, Stevie."

Over dinner, Steve starts to finally relax. Eddie is, as always, easy to talk too.

When they step into the living room, Steve snatches the pillow off Eddie before he can put it on the floor and places it in Eddies lap instead.

"Oh, uh," Eddie stutters, eyebrows high, staring down at Steve who did not hesitate to rest his head on the pillow in his lap. "You- yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve agrees. "You alright with this?"

"Yes- yeah, this- of course."

"Great!"

Steve stretches to the coffee table, handing Eddie the remote.

He doesn't pay attention to whatever Eddie puts on though. He can't stop thinking about how he's laying, how Eddie's hand feels so much more gentle in his hair.

Eventually, he turns so he's on his back. He catches Eddie's hand before he can pull away, waiting until Eddie looks him in the eye before pulling his hand close enough to kiss his palm.

But, instead of surprise, Eddie sighs. His shoulders drop, smiling wide- relieved.

"You're so pretty," Steve says, pushing through the confusion he feels at Eddies reaction. "And I, uh... I really like you, Ed."

"Yeah?" Eddies eyes scrunch with how wide his smile is, shifting his hand out of Steves hold so he can brush the back of his knuckles along his cheek. "Little ol' me?"

"Yeah. I'm- I mean, you're funny and you care... you're just... it's too soon to say love, I know, but-"

"I love you too."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm

[burnthatbridge]

if you love him let him go (if you love him let him know) 

pre-buddie, bucktommy | T | 3k | angst, pining tommy needs to tell eddie something not on ao3 atm because i can't figure out if this is done or if i'm continuing it - please let me know your thoughts! now on ao3 because i hate not having all my fic in one place

“Can I get you another beer, man?”

Eddie checks his watch. It’s only a little after nine thirty. He’s kind of hoping to get home before Chris goes to sleep, but he’ll not be heading to bed any time soon, will likely stay up later than Eddie. Friday night means he disregards his supposed bedtime — not that he sticks to it that well on school nights, now he’s sixteen. “Sure, thanks.”

Tommy nods, disappears into the kitchen, returns a moment later with a can of IPA in one hand, a bottle of lager in the other. They’ve already finished the six-pack Eddie brought over, but trust Buck — well, Buck and Tommy — to have Eddie’s favorite beer in their fridge. Tommy hands over the can, already cracked open, and Eddie takes a sip as Tommy settles down at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t turn to face the TV, sits twisted towards Eddie instead, but he does pick up the remote and turn down the volume, the post-fight commentary rendered nearly unintelligible. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Eddie twists towards Tommy himself, something not-quite-anxious-but-almost flaring in his chest. Over the years they have been friends, he and Tommy have spoken about lots of things, including those not so easy to discuss: their respective experiences in the army, Tommy’s tough childhood, Eddie’s difficult parents, the hard aspects of the job. But they’ve all been topics that have come up naturally, raised organically. Tommy has never led into anything with such a pointed opener before.

Eddie studies him. He has one knee pulled up on the couch cushion, foot poking out off the end, the other foot planted on the floor, nearly parallel to the base of the couch. One arm is up on the backrest, the other relaxed, beer bottle in that hand, resting on his thigh, dripping condensation painting a charcoal ring on his — probably Buck’s, in fact, given how tight the fabric is stretched over the muscle of his leg — grey sweats. He’s not tense, but he’s not smiling, and there’s something about his expression that Eddie can’t place. It’s not that he hasn’t seen this look before, because he’s pretty sure he has, witnessed it in flickers across numerous occasions over the years, there and then gone, present for but a heartbeat. But he’d never known what it meant any of those times and he certainly doesn’t now.

“'Course,” Eddie says, when Tommy doesn’t go on, seems to be waiting for some kind of sign. Then adds, feeling like it’s necessary given the gravity he can feel pulling this lightsome evening down to something more serious.  “Anything.”

Tommy sighs, bites his lip like he doesn’t want to speak, even though he’s the one who said he wanted to talk, then shakes his head and takes a pull of his beer.

“Is everything okay?” Eddie’s starting to feel worried now. He mentally scans back over the past few weeks, trying to remember if Tommy has mentioned anything about work that could be a problem. He saw him at basketball last week, and nothing had seemed off. Plus, Buck hasn’t said anything. Not that he’d necessarily tell Eddie about an issue Tommy was having, not if Tommy wanted it kept private, but Eddie can usually tell when Buck’s concerned about someone, and he hasn’t picked up on anything, not at all. 

But maybe this isn’t about a problem Tommy is having. Maybe this is a Buck problem, something Buck has kept from Eddie. It would make sense why Tommy would bring it up with him; sometimes a concerted, multi-person effort is the only way to get through to Buck. And Tommy’s more likely to bring in Eddie first, and then expand the team to include Maddie, Chim, more, as needed. 

“Is Buck okay?” Eddie asks, something like panic constricting his throat, making the words come out a little strangled. 

Tommy actually laughs at that, a small, choked thing, an exhale of sound and air. He shakes his head again, but not a no. More like an extension of the laugh, a motion to accompany it, to better convey the disbelief — not humor — contained in it. “He’s fine.”

It’s a relief to hear. Buck had seemed physically okay, when Eddie had seen him briefly before he left the house, since he’d maybe purposefully waited to order his Uber until Buck pulled up in his jeep outside, despite Christopher’s insistence he didn’t need to wait for Buck to arrive, despite the fact that his kid is more than old enough to be left in the house alone for the twenty minutes it would have taken Buck to drive over, while Eddie was ferried the opposite way. But there could still have been something, Buck could have been fighting through pain, much better at hiding any hurt of his body than he is at masking his emotional distress. 

“But,” Tommy says, and that one word is enough to have Eddie’s muscles tightening once more, “It is Evan I wanted to talk about.”

Again, Tommy doesn’t follow it up with anything. Eddie has found, in their time as friends, that Tommy is not often a man lost for words. Quite the opposite, in fact. He usually says what he means, means what he says, and is an expert at listening and delivering sage advice. This reticence– it doesn’t feel like it bodes well, has the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck prickling.

“Alright,” Eddie says, a feeble prompt. “So, Buck?”

Tommy nods, like he’s gearing himself up for something, to face a challenge, to take a punch. Eddie is expecting something bad, so the words he says catch him even more off guard than they would have. “I want to ask Evan to marry me.”

Maybe if Tommy had seemed eager, excited, when he turned to him, Eddie could have anticipated the blow, could have felt a creeping suspicion this is where Tommy was headed, could have been provided with enough of a heads-up to brace himself. As it is, he doesn’t see the hit coming, takes it full force to the chest, so hard it steals his breath, knocks the wind from him. His mouth goes slack, and he feels his fingers slide against the slippery sides of his beer can, almost spills it over Tommy and Buck’s lounge carpet before he gets a hold on it, on himself. He forces himself to smile. “That’s– that’s great,” he makes himself say, only faintly aware that Tommy isn’t smiling back, like this moment should call for. “Did you–” he swallows around the bile climbing his esophagus, “Do you want help planning the proposal?” He wishes he could take the words back the second they’re out. Because this — just hearing that Tommy wants to ask Buck — is torture enough. To be involved with it, to help enable it, Eddie will be lucky if it doesn’t kill him. Maybe not his body, but certainly his soul. 

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “No, I want to ask him to marry me. But I’m not going to. At least, not now.”

Eddie squints at him. The news that Tommy wants to marry Buck might hurt Eddie, but it’s not exactly surprising. Eddie’s seen how much Tommy cares for him in the years they’ve been together, has seen the way he looks at him, the way they look at each other. Has felt the way it burns him, the scorching heat of flame, the searing cold of ice. He doesn’t understand what Tommy is saying, doesn’t understand why this proclamation seems not to be a happy one. “Why not?” Eddie asks, almost grateful for the opportunity to present confusion, curiosity, rather than forced pleasure at the thought of one of his closest friends and his– best friend marrying each other. “You guys are serious. I mean, you live together.”

Tommy huffs another laugh, still more disbelief than humor, really the opposite of humor. “His lease was up.”

“Right. But he chose not to renew it. He chose to move in with you,” Eddie says, slow, struggling to understand, the pounding of his pulse not helping him think clearly, see through the puzzle that is everything Tommy has said so far and the way he has said it. 

“He was never going to renew it,” Tommy tells him.

And that’s– that’s something Eddie didn’t know. He hates it when he learns information about Buck from Tommy, always has, even though he fights with everything in him not to feel like that. Tommy is Buck’s boyfriend, of course he’s going to know things about him that Eddie doesn’t, know him in a way that Eddie doesn’t. 

“We hadn’t spoken about living together,” Tommy says, eyes on Eddie. “But he’d said he thought the loft was too expensive and he was spending nearly every night at mine by that point. When he wasn’t on shift. Or at yours.” Eddie pulls his eyes away, takes a sip from his beer for something to do, even though the bitter taste is turning his stomach. “He said he wasn’t going to renew it, that he’d look for somewhere new, cheaper. But this was too close to the end of his lease to find a place before he had to move out. I asked where he was going to stay in the meantime.”

“And he said with you,” Eddie guesses, more a statement than a question.

But Tommy shakes his head. A smile curls his lips but his eyes– his eyes don’t match. “He said he’d crash on your couch, actually.”

Eddie takes another mouthful of beer, holds it there, on the back of his tongue. He didn’t know any of this. Buck would, of course, have been more than welcome. Likely why he hadn’t asked in advance, why he planned for it without seeking permission. 

“I said he could stay with me, instead. That he’d be able to sleep in a bed here.” Eddie swallows, the beer somehow thick and cloying in a way that it shouldn’t be. “And then when he started making noises about looking for a new place, I told him he should stay.”

While it’s not how Eddie had, unwillingly, pictured it in his head — Tommy and Buck mutually agreeing that Buck shouldn’t renew his lease, deciding they wanted to live together — it still doesn’t explain what Tommy has said. “And he did stay,” Eddie says. “So, why aren’t– Does Buck not want to get married?” But that can’t be it, that can’t be right. Eddie is certain Buck does want to be married, only he’d tried hard not to think of Buck wanting that with Tommy, with anyone. Anyone else. 

“No, he does,” Tommy confirms it. He leans over and deposits his beer on the coffee table. Then sits back, still turned to Eddie, but arms crossed over his chest, like a protection of himself. “We’ve spoken about it, discussed it. And he’s told me he’s always wanted that, to get married, to be part of a family.” Tommy pops one hand out of the fold of his arms to hold it up, out, quelling, like Eddie has protested. He hasn’t, but his heart is doing something approximating a riot at the idea of Tommy being Buck’s family. “And I know he has a family. He knows he does. In you and Chris, in Maddie and Jee, in the 118. But–” Tommy breaks off, tips his head to the side, gaze boring into Eddie’s face so strong that Eddie wishes he could turn away, duck and run. “You know how much he’s always wanted to belong somewhere.”

He does, Eddie thinks, the thought almost violent in its intensity. He belongs with me. Except, he doesn’t. Not really, not how Eddie wants, not the way he does with Tommy.

“And I want that for him,” Tommy goes on, tucking his hand back in, squeezing his arms tighter about himself. Eddie’s never seen him like this, hunched in on himself, curled small. Tommy is usually so open, larger than life. “I want to be the one to give that to him.”

Eddie wants to be the one to give that to him. Desires it desperately, a secret need he’s tucked as far inside himself as he can. He can feel it now, raging to be let out, to be set free. But he can’t, he won’t. Buck is with Tommy, he’s happy with Tommy. Tommy who is so warm and kind and good, Tommy who is better than Eddie in every conceivable way, who brings so much to Buck’s life, who gives all of himself to Buck. Who wants to give him even more. Wants to, but apparently won’t.

Eddie doesn’t understand. “Then, if you want to, why won’t you ask him?” he questions, trying to. 

“If I ask him now, he’ll say no.” Tommy states it like indisputable fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that Buck would refuse him. 

Eddie shakes his head, understanding even less. “But he loves you.”

Tommy smiles again, then, larger than he had before, but as devoid of happiness, as empty of cheer. This smile hurts to see, reflects the way Eddie felt inside when Tommy had said I want to ask Evan to marry me. “I know he does.” Tommy’s tone is sure, but wistful. “But he loves you more.”

It’s like– It’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt. Or maybe it’s like everything he’s ever felt. The shock of a residual lightning bolt, the joy of being a part of the 118, the pain of a bullet ripping through his shoulder, the awe of holding his son for the first time. Eddie wants Tommy’s words to be true maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything. But he also cannot believe them, has no trust that they are true. Because they can’t be. Buck loves Tommy. Not Eddie. 

“We’re friends. Best friends,” Eddie points out. “Of course, he– he loves me. But not more. Not like he loves you. He’s in love with you.”

Tommy sighs, arms uncrossing, palms coming to rest on his thighs, body taking on a posture Eddie is familiar with, the one he falls into when he’s talking someone through something, the one he adopted when Eddie came out to him some six months ago. “Eddie, he’s in love with you.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear, but coming from the wrong lips. Spoken by not by Buck himself but by Buck’s boyfriend, oh god. “He isn’t. Tommy, he can’t be.” 

But Tommy is nodding, nodding like what he’s said is true, like he wants Eddie to believe it. 

“He’s not,” Eddie says, hears the denial, the disbelief spill from him. Buck doesn’t love him. He doesn’t. But Eddie– Eddie loves– “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, almost a gasp. “Tommy, I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s not your fault,” Tommy cuts him off. “I knew what I was getting into. When I started seeing Evan, I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. I just–” Tommy sighs again, scrubs his palms along his thighs. “I didn’t expect it to get this far. I thought we’d just be a fun, easy thing. Something to ease Evan into his sexuality, that new part of himself. I didn’t expect it to go like this. I didn’t expect to feel like this.” Tommy closes his eyes, lashes falling to his cheeks. He breaths in and out, while Eddie’s own breath is caught in his chest. When Tommy opens his eyes, he says, “But I don’t have to tell you how easy it is to love him.”

Fuck. Tommy knows. Because Eddie does. He loves Buck, loves him so endlessly he doesn’t know where the feeling starts and where it ends. Doesn’t know when it started; doesn’t think it will ever end. “I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, needing to say the words again, needing Tommy — his friend — to hear them. 

Tommy lifts one palm from his thigh, his wrist pressing into the muscle as he cuts his fingers to the side in a dismissal. “Don’t apologize for it. I’m certainly not going to. I’m never going to be sorry for loving him.” He drops his hand back down, pats his leg, emphasis of the point. “But it is a problem.” He smiles, rueful. “I thought I’d be able to break up with him, if he didn’t break up with me. I should have, ages ago. I certainly should have when you came out.” 

Eddie, selfishly, had hoped Buck would break up with Tommy then. But it had seemed like a farfetched fantasy. He had told Buck he was queer after Buck had already moved in with Tommy. He’d admitted it to himself, to Frank, before that, but hadn’t told anyone else for weeks. In hindsight, sometimes he figures he’d left it too late, but most of the time he didn’t think it would have made a difference at all. But now, with what Tommy has told him, maybe it would have. It’s a knife sliding between Eddie’s ribs to think maybe. Maybe.

“But I didn’t.” Tommy looks resigned, shoulders drooping. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Eddie needs to know. It seems like Tommy has known for years that Eddie has loved Buck. Loves Buck. I knew there were going to be three people in this relationship. So why is he only bringing it up now?

“Because I didn’t. Because I can’t. I can’t break up with him. But I want to move forward. And I want to do so with him, for us to further our life together. But if I ask him to marry me when he doesn’t know for sure that you’re not an option, he’ll say no.”

Fear freezes Eddie’s insides. “So, what– what are you asking me to do?” Because Tommy is asking something of Eddie, wants something. Something Eddie fears he will have to make himself give.

Tommy straightens up, shoulders rolling back. He’s serious, solemn but not demanding or pleading when he says it. A devastating request. “I’m asking you, as my friend, to let him go.”

Eddie could be sick, he thinks, could vomit up the three and a quarter beers and the half a dozen chicken wings he’s consumed since he got to Tommy and Buck’s place. Could spill the mess of his insides up all over himself, all over Tommy, all over their lives. Tommy is his friend, was his friend before he was ever Buck’s boyfriend. Eddie should do this thing for him. Should give Buck his blessing to marry Tommy, give Buck up, give him over, completely, to this man who has loved him so well for the past three years. Eddie should; in his gut he knows it would be the right thing to do. But his heart– his heart is in revolt. It’s Buck. He loves him. How can he ever let him go?

Tommy leans forward, places a hand on Eddie’s leg, squeezes his fingers around the ball of his kneecap, until Eddie lifts his gaze and meets his eyes. “Or,” he says, somehow even more serious, “I am telling you, as your friend, to go and get him.”

#do we need to see where this goes next? #or is it good as is? #these are the questions that haunt me #(also i am totally avoiding writing chapter 5 of my wip please don't kill me) #buddie #bucktommy #buddie fic #bucktommy fic #911 fic #911 #911 abc #myfic

[caseys-breanna]

My favourite Parker episode has always been The Inside Job, y'know why? It's not just what Parker does, but rather what the others do FOR Parker.

Parker has 4 safe houses in the city, but Nate and Sophie know her well enough to know where she actually stays when she's away from the team

Parker's security code. Do you understand the level of trust someone like Parker will have to have to use their name as her security code? To the place that's her own personal sanctuary? Sophie EARNED that level of trust.

'The Sterenko can't be cracked-' 'Can you do it?' 'Nate, it can't be-' 'For Parker. Can you do it for Parker?'

This. Just this.

'I made her. I trained her, and I released her into the world.' 'She was broken! She needed you!'

This stood out so loud to me, because it's not Hardison or Sophie (the more emotionally intelligent ones of the team) saying it. Because it's NATE. It's Nate, the man who couldn't say I Love You to Sophie for so long. The man who got so caught up in his son's death that every job involving kids or medical malpractice he nearly went out of line. NATE, who pushes and pushes and is ruthless and so cold at times.

It's Nate protesting for Parker, standing up FOR Parker, and y'know why? Because Parker doesn't know what she got deprived of. Parker doesn't feel that loss because you can't grieve something you aren't even aware you could've had. But Nate does. Nate saw her injustice and loss of childhood and spoke up, KNOWING she'll never know about him defending her.

'Hardison I screwed up.' 'We're already here mama.'

Do you understand the level of trust and vulnerability it requires for her to say those words? She's never gotten anyone's help after a screwup, she's had to take care of herself on her own. And there's Hardison, right there, not upset, not angry, not disappointed. A right straight - I'm here and we'll get you out.

'Let's get our girl home.'

Do I even need to say anything.

'It's not what we do, we don't get involved!' 'No, that's what YOU do!'

Parker is not Archie Leach's protege anymore. She's Parker. She's the greatest thief in the world. She's the one person to get the entire Leverage Inc breathing down your neck to save her. She has a family who got her back. She has a life and friends and people who may not understand her always but will always support her and be there for her, no matter what, without changing any aspect of her or forcing her to change either. And she saves people, because that's what they do.

'It's your play Parker.'

The explicit trust Nate displays in her. For someone like Nate with control issues and need to be the guy calling the shots, this is practically an all out notice saying 'she's my people, she's my family, I trust her with my life, more than that I trust her with my family and our jobs.'

'No.' 'What do you mean no? This isn't time for crazy, Parker! Come on!' 'No! I need to go back. I need to put the vial back.'

Do you understand what it feels to have someone like Parker, who is practically a ghost and the prospect of getting stuck somewhere is unthinkable, to refuse an escape route? And that too because she wants to help people and not be used to hurt them? In the face of someone who brought her up to only steal? Now that's growth.

Now this is a callback, but when Sophie and Nate first enter her safehouse, Sophie says something that foreshadows the ending. She says 'Look at this. It's methodical. This could be one of your plans, Nate.'

This is a personal choice, but god it's so good when authors and writers and creators give you hints and foreshadow and reward your intuition at the end, rather than changing endings for shock value. Because Hardison isn't ruthless, Eliot isn't striving for control, and Sophie is dramatic, not clinical. None of it would have been worth it unless it went to Parker, which it did.

Man, this fucking show I swear.

#leverage #parker leverage #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #nate ford #eliot spencer #jace.txt #i fucking love this show #the inside job #archie leach

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city. 

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him. 

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun. 

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?” 

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that. 

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices. 

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly. 

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again. 

And again… And again. 

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him. 

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby. 

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing. 

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you. 

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes. 

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe. 

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check. 

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over. 

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his. 

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men. 

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore. 

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her. 

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table. 

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are. 

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles? 

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good. 

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?" 

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?" 

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared. 

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends. 

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary. 

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours. 

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again. 

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?” 

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now. 

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?” 

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts. 

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again. 

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister. 

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x nun!reader #forbidden love #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you