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fuctacles · 3 months

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in love and war part 2

For Spicy Six Winter Challenge hosted by @thefreakandthehair

T | 2221 | feelings realization, bi awakening | read part 1 here | part 3 here

And this takes us to the present. The revenge plan.

The sun has just come up and there are four of them camping in Steve’s car, sharing thermoses full of hot beverages of choice. (Steve brought one full of hot cocoa and it's the crowd’s favorite.)

“Eddie is not an early riser, we’re wasting time,” Lucas complains while observing the trailer with his binoculars.

“I think his uncle’s gonna wake him up for us,” Robin assures him. And like clockwork, Wayne Munson’s truck comes into view, almost knocking down one of their sculptures. The man steps out, takes a look at the dozen snowmen surrounding his trailer, and disappears inside.

About fifteen minutes later, the curtains in one of the windows move. Steve’s buzzing in his seat. Or maybe just shivering. He reaches into his pocket for a tissue to wipe his runny nose.

“There’s a message!”

“Well, read it!”

“Nice move, Stevie,” Lucas reads the paper that appeared in the window. “Can’t play with you tho, I’m sick. Sad face.”

“Did he draw a sad face or…?”

“Of course, he drew it!”

Steve yanks the binoculars from Lucas to see for himself. The papers disappeared but Eddie took their place in the window, wrapped in a blanket. There’s a scarf around his neck and his nose is red. He looks bad.

“Damn. He really is sick.”

“Full offense but you look like shit, too.”

“Can it, Mayfield.”

He steps out and walks up to the trailer. Eddie finally spots him and he perks up and waves at him.

“Hi!”

Even through the window, Steve can hear how croaky his voice is.

“Guess there goes your next campaign.”

Eddie laughs weakly, it turns into a cough.

“Guess so.”

“You started it,” he reminds him.

“I know. Sorry.”

“Why?” Steve frowns at him. Eddie shrugs.

“Seemed like a fun idea.”

“Imagine how much fun you could be having playing DnD now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie waves his hand. “But. You know.” He shrugs again.

“No, I don’t know.” He shakes his head, frowning again.

“You don’t play DnD.”

He taps against the glass nervously and Steve collects himself quickly.

“We can find something that doesn’t end with you in bed.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkle with mischief and Steve immediately realizes the double meaning in his words.

“Okay, shut up.”

He turns around and leaves quickly. The inside of his car is surprisingly warm and he shivers from head to toe.

“Well, I’m leaving before I catch whatever this is,” Max eyes him before escaping the car. She stops once outside. “Lucas, you coming?”

The boy scrambles behind her.

“Let’s get you home,” Robin squeezes his arm.

He takes one last glance at Eddie’s trailer and nods.

It’s all misery from there. He makes camp in the living room because that’s where the tv is and he needs some entertainment while sitting on his ass and coughing. Robin takes stock of his medicine cabinet and whatever else he may need while housebound. She forces him to take his temperature. He’s prissy about it because it would make the sickness real, but it’s barely above average.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” Robin pats him on the head while inspecting the thermometer. “Where’s your walkie?”

“There’s no need-”

“Little shitheads need to know they’re on their own. Or rather on their parent’s mercy.”

He nods.

“It should be on my desk.”

She’s gone for a while which makes him assume he’s excluded from the conversation. There’s probably a lot of yelling happening from the kids and Robin’s saving him the headache, bless her heart. She comes back eventually, walkie in hand.

“I’ll leave it nearby in case you need anything, but I told them not to bother you, that you’ll contact them if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” he smiles. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” she smiles back. “Dustin isn’t happy, of course, but his mom said they’ll come with some soup later. Max said, and I quote “serves them well.”

“She's not wrong,” he mutters.

“Will and Lucas said they’re sorry. Will said Mike’s sorry too.”

Steve snorts.

“Course he did. What did Eddie say?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs. “Either he was sleeping or too sick to speak up.”

“Huh.” He’s weirdly disappointed about that.

“Anyway, I gotta go to work now because my coworker called in sick.” She pats his knee as she stands up.

“Uh, I’m sorry?”

She shakes her head.

“You’ll pay me back when I come down with whatever I just caught from you. I’ll come over tomorrow with some movies. don’t forget Dustin’s coming later today!”

He groans.

“Right, of course.”

“Yeah, not jealous about that, buddy.” She pats his head. His hair is ruined enough that he doesn’t protest. “Walkie if you need anything, do not leave the house, keep yourself warm. Toodles!”

“See you, Rob.”

Later he has to listen to Dustin yelling at him from the other side of the room (“I’m not getting any closer to your germs, Steve!”). Claudia, the wonderful mom she is, doesn’t have such reservations and hands him the soup she brought after heating it.

“Dusty made us make rounds to all your friends to gather a care package for you.”

Steve makes a surprised sound over his cup.

“Being sick is so boring, we thought it could help!” Dustin adds, still yelling from afar. But the anger seems to have seeped out of him. “We’re going to Eddie’s next, his care package is cooler.”

“Dustin!”

Steve laughs.

“He’s probably right, Ms. Claudia, I don’t think our interests overlap as much as with Eddie.”

“Well, you’re gonna get educated because we do not have boring jock shit for you.”

“Dustin!”

“What?! It’s the truth!”

Steve snorts so hard, he needs a tissue.

After they leave, he digs into the care package like it’s a Christmas morning. Everything has little post-it notes with get-well wishes and signed who it’s from. From Robin, he got promised medication restock and some hard candy for his throat. Will gave him a copy of Hobbit and a tape which upon opening, turned out to have a small joint hidden inside, courtesy of Jonathan. El lent him a Wonder Woman comic. Dustin gave him a Batman comic and a handwritten guide titled “D&D for dummies”, that actually made him chuckle. At the bottom, probably because Dustin was ashamed of his friend, was an issue of Sports Illustrated with a note “Read the Magic Johnson interview!” and below that, a girly-looking magazine, dryly signed “from Erica.” He chuckled to himself and opened it first. Inside was another Post-it note that read “page 17”. Intrigued, he flips the pages to find it.

On page seventeen, there is a segment titled “Flirting or bullying?” and one of the questions/stories is highlighted with a pink marker. Steve gets to reading.

“Dear TM team,

My friend, S, is being followed by this boy who keeps starting snowball fights. He’s waiting for S’s shift to end, sitting in his van outside the shop to do so. It’s turning into a full-blown snowball war by this point. My other friend thinks they are pulling pigtails, but I just think they are dumb. So, is it flirting or boys being idiots? -E”

Steve drops the magazine and goes into the kitchen to have a refill of his soup.

When Robin comes in the next day, the magazine still lies where he left it, taunting him. His heart stutters when she picks it up with a laugh.

“I guess under all her snark Erica is just another girl, huh?”

Oh, how wrong she was.

He licked his dry lips before speaking up, barely audible and fucking terrified.

“Open it.”

Surprised, her eyes snap at him, but something in his tone makes her comply without a word. He pretends to busy himself studying the romcoms she brought.

“Huh,” he hears among the rustle of the pages. He looks up, too tempted to watch her face while she reads.

“What’s so fucking funny?” he asks, watching her lips quirk.

“Nothing!” she squeaks. “I’m surprised she did that.”

“I’m not. It’s Erica.”

“True,” she giggles, closing the magazine. He frowns at her.

“What did they say?”

“You didn’t read it?”

He taps his fingers against his mug.

“I chickened out,” he admits.

“Why don’t you ask Eddie yourself?”

“Robin,” he whines.

“Steve,” she whines back. She scoots closer and takes the mug out of his hand to lace their fingers together. “Listen, I rejected you and now we’re friends. You’re friends with Nancy too. You can let him down gently, it’s not the end of the world.”

“No, Robin…” He sighs, squeezing her hand. “I think I was, um… pulling his pigtails back.”

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit,” he nods.

They look into each other’s eyes, giddy and nervous, before bursting into giggles. Their eyes fall back on the magazine.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Didn’t Eddie get a care package from them too?”

“Oh shit.”

“Dude I can’t stay here forever, pick up the phone!”

“Your yelling is really not helping me.”

“Oh, so you’d rather do it by yourself?”

He winces.

“No? Yes? I don’t know!”

She groans and he’s pretty sure she’s about to strangle him when the phone calls. They both jump and stare at it. Robin eyes him but he’s not moving a muscle so she groans and picks it up in the middle of the third ring.

“Yes?” She sounds calm and collected. “Oh, hi Eddie!” She smiles like an imp, staring straight into Steve’s soul. “You sound like shit.”

He makes a sound of protest, but she puts a hand up to stop him.

“Oh, you just got your voice back? And you’re calling Steve first thing? How sweet!” She’s making kissy faces at him and he’s about to commit murder. “Yes, he’s awake, I’ll get him.” She holds out the receiver. “For you.”

“Fucking obviously,” he murmurs, snatching it from her. She snickers.

“I’ll be in the living room,” she says and struts away, but he keeps an eye on her just in case she decides to eavesdrop.

“Steve?”

He does sound terrible.

“It’s me, hi.”

“Hi, um. Did you, by any chance, maybe, perhaps, get a care package from the kids?”

Steve’s insides twist.

“Yes?”

“From Erica too?”

“Yes.”

“A magazine?”

“Page seventeen?”

Eddie breathes hard into the receiver.

“Yes, that.”

The silence hangs between them. His clogged sinuses make it hard to formulate thoughts.

“What did they say?”

“What?”

“Was it flirting or bullying?” he clarifies, fumbling with the cord.

“You didn’t read it?”

“No.” He tries to find an explanation that doesn't sound bad. “Wanted to hear it from you.”

Eddie takes a ragged breath, it turns into a coughing fit. Steve frowns.

“You should go back to bed, we can talk about it later.”

“No!” Eddie protests straight away. Coughs a bit more. “I just… Yes, they say it was flirting,” he spits out.

Steve suddenly feels worse.

“But they were wrong,” he pushes for clarification.

Eddie sounded like they were.

“I don’t know,” he admits instead. Steve frowns.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You either flirt or-”

“I never thought about it, okay?” Eddie interrupts him. “I always assumed I’m into chicks but I’d definitely not flirt with one like that.”

It feels like a punch in the gut and Steve knows his own answer. Robin’s right, he’s survived rejection and unrequited feelings and got life-long friendships out of it. He can bear one more.

“Well, I’m pretty sure it was flirting on my part.”

Eddie starts coughing again.

“It’s okay if you weren’t i just wanted to be clear,” he adds as soon as the coughing subdues. “I never thought about it before either.”

“No, listen. Steve. Stevie.”

Steve’s stomach makes a backflip against his will.

“Yes?”

“I’m still thinking about it, okay? Just, the fever isn’t helping. Like, I want to say yes, but I’d rather say it when I’m not sick and half out of it, you know?”

Steve barks out a laugh, relieved and hopeful.

“Sure, makes sense. I’ll still be here.”

Waiting, like a dumbass.

“Cool. I’ll call you tomorrow, I’m out of stamina for today.”

“Sure, uh, sleep well.”

“You too, sweetheart.”

Steve’s too stunned by the pet name to put the phone away, so they just breathe into each other's ears, startled. But he won’t let Eddie one-up him like that.

“Goodnight, handsome.”

Eddie made a choked sound before ending the call. Steve puts the phone down and walks back into the living room, where Robin is waiting for him, the TV forgotten.

“Well? What did he say?” she asks before he can sit down.

“That he’s still thinking about it.”

“Nooooo!”

“But he did call me a sweetheart.”

“Oh?”

“I guess neither of us realized we were flirting.”

“Steve!” She starts slapping his arm.

“What? What?!”

“I hate you so much! You were each other’s gay awakening? How is that fair?!”

She’s pouting when he grasps her hands to stop the assault.

“Well, we can plot a snowball war against Vickie next,” he offers.

“Are you kidding me?! She’d hate it!”

Steve imagined a gaggle of kids ganging against the poor little redhead.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I guess men are a simpler species.”

“You are so lucky I love you.”

#spicysixwinterfanworkschallenge #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #mine #stranger things #ff #st #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #winter steddie #steddie fluff #steddie one shot #steddie oneshot

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comatosebunny09 · 2 years

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Okay, listen. I started thinking about Kyojuro dealing with his bratty-ass girlfriend, and then this came about. MDNI below the cut!

You knew what you were doing when you lay on your stomach before him. Stretched like a feline in your boy shorts, tempting the blond with your rotund ass peeking from beneath the frilly hem.

Don’t know why you play coy when he palms your cheeks with greedy hands. Works your supple globes apart, occasionally sinking in his thumbs to toy with your moistening slit. He drags an idle knuckle across the seam of your panties, invoking a crescendo of shivers and wails from your sexy body.

The mattress croaks when he moves, a little dip giving on either side. Swift as a fire tearing through a forest, looming over you on sturdy arms, caging you within solid muscle and heat. His hardened cock twitches beneath his sweats, begging for freedom. Glides in the cleft of your ass whilst he pistons his hips in mock thrusts, a guttural sound vibrating his throat. You giggle in reply as if you didn’t provoke him.

As if you hadn’t spent the entire afternoon antagonizing Kyojuro in the company of his friends. In his own home, no less. And he was painfully hard as you strutted about in your tight shorts with your midriff bare. No bra beneath your crop top, your pierced nipples tightening beneath the frail fabric. Like you hadn’t put on a show, bending over the coffee table to place drinks down. The print of your plum labia was on full display—Kyojuro had never wanted to throttle Uzui more for practically drooling over the spectacle.

Needless to say, Kyojuro had politely demanded requested his friends leave early. There would be plenty of time to catch up later. There was a lesson to be taught. And he’d planned to drill it into your pretty little head.

All.

Night.

Long.

“Oh, come now, Sunflower,” Kyojuro rasps. Had already yanked your panties to your ankles and flung them across the room. Manacled your legs to the bed with his strong hands to keep your little body from squirming away. Had you up on your knees, your vulnerable pussy enticing him. “You can’t tell me that you didn’t expect this.” His voice rumbles with a quieted violence, making your center quake with excitement.

Hot breath sears your lower lips, his nose grazing your throbbing anus. He growls at the spicy scent of your arousal beckoning him. You pitch your hips backward, trying to bury his face between your thighs. He won’t give you what you crave that easily, however. He’ll tempt you as brazenly as you did him throughout the day.

“Kyojuro!” you cry, a thick finger sliding into your quivering cunt to twist, curl, tease. Acquainting itself with the sensitive nerve endings at its roof, stars shooting across the stratosphere of your eyes.

“Hmm?” the blond buzzes, adopting your coquettish attitude from earlier. “What’s wrong, my love?” You feel his lips curve upward against your cheek. He litters the generous flesh with light nips and sucks, drawing an involuntary shudder from you. “Did you need something?”

The silence that follows makes him feel all the more devilish. You’re trying your hardest to defy him. To pretend that your knees aren’t trembling and your breaths aren’t coming out in sporadic bursts.

Two can play this game.

Kyojuro withdraws his finger with a lewd squelch, the hot suctioning of your cunt tugging a croaky groan from his chest while dragging a displeased mewl from yours.

“Kyo,” you sigh in frustration, your flushed cheek pressing into your pillow, ass arching and thighs parting to allow him more access to your pussy.

“Please, what, my love?” He taps your bottom once, twice. Completely spellbound by how your orifices twitch at his mere touch. You whine childishly beneath him, refusing to surrender. It wouldn’t be much fun if you gave in so quickly. He’ll play this game a little longer. Have you begging for his cock by the time he’s done with you.

Kyojuro parts your jiggling cheeks, loving how your pretty, pink asshole puckers just for him. “Oh-ho,” he breathes, blasting damp air against your hole. “Did you want me to fuck you, darling?” You chirp in reply. He continues teasing your rim with his index, causing you to convulse. His smug expression grows tenfold. Fights with the urge to palm himself, a wet spot steadily saturating his sweats. He is the least of his worries right now. “What was that, Sweetling? I couldn’t hear you too well from back here.”

“Yes, Kyojuro! Please! Please fuck me!”

Your begging makes his dick jump, and he smiles fondly. So that’s it? You just wanted a little attention from your loving, doting boyfriend? His perfect little princess. You wanted him to fuck you, did you? Probably grew wetter by the moment, thinking of him taking you in front of his friends, bending your gorgeous ass over the table, and fucking you with zero abandon. You filthy thing, you.

He’ll humor you just this once.

Kyojuro wastes no time diving in with a scorching tongue, flitting it across your hole. You moan pitifully whilst he laves at your anus with long, saturated thrusts. Eats your ass as if you are the last thing he’ll ever taste, thanking you for such a succulent meal with pleased groans and filthy licking sounds coloring the atmosphere.

Masterlist

#rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #my works #rengoku kyojuro #demon slayer fanfic #kny fanfic #kny reader insert #rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku smut #kyojuro rengoku smut #kyojuro smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Forgotten Lessons XIII

Masterlist

Sad girl summer 😪

Warnings: noncon, age gap, abuse of power, coercion. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.

Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you!

The train arrives after midnight. The town you grew up in is as sleepy as ever, the platform dusted in a layer of unattended snow. You step off with your canvas duffel and knap sack into the lazy drift of winter. It doesn't feel like Christmastime.

You're the sole passenger to disembark, not unusual for the tiny stopover. You glance around. The benches are empty but for the blanket of flakes and the station is dark, closed for the night. You go to one and kick off the snow, putting your bag down as you dial your phone with frigid fingers.

You hold the speaker to your ear and wait, breath foggy and frosty as it passes your lips. You wait as the tone rolls over and over. A beep, voicemail. You shake your head. It can't be. She wouldn't forget. Not again.

You try a second time, a third, fourth, and fifth. You take your duffel and go around the front and look out at the barren lot. She's not there either but she might be on her way. She's coming for you. You just talked to her that morning.

You shiver and pull on your knitted mitts, pacing to keep warm, but also out of restlessness. You had lies ready, if your mother bothers to ask. 'I think I did great on my finals' or 'I'll make it up second semester'.

An hour and you're shaking uncontrollably. You shake the snow from your scarf and rewind it. You don't know why you came home. Your mother barely noticed when you lived there for eighteen years. She was always off with some mysterious man or down at the wine bar with her girlfriends.

You're a disappointment. If anything, a bothersome blip in her existence. She would be better off without a child but for the first ten years of your life, you were a cute little doll to dress up. After that, you grew awkward and unattractive. She didn't stop you from covering it up.

You resign yourself to walking. You knew the moment you got off the train and she wasn't there she wouldn't come. It hurts but it could be worse. You're used to it.

You follow the road and turn off down the shortcut behind the laundromat. Up the small hill and down another street, towards the suburbs. You know these streets well, how many times did you walk them alone? Just like this.

Your front door remains as the rest of the town. Unchanged. Not like you. You've been intrinsically fractured. You dig out your key and let yourself in. You hear her snoring on the couch in the haze of the amber shaded lamp.

The wine bottle is empty as you put your cold hand to her hot cheek. You leave her. She's never in a good mood after drinking, not as the haze fades away. You go upstairs and slowly push open your bedroom door.

Inside, the scene stuns you. You drop your bag and stare. It's empty. The walls are painted over and there's tins on the floor, rollers dried and strewn about. Not a piece of you is left.

Your eyes wet. There's nowhere in this world you belong. You suck back the tears and close the door. You flick the light off and use that of your phone to find your way to the corner. You push the cans out of the way and pull a sweater out of your bag, using your knapsack as a lumpy pillow.

You curl into a ball and shiver. Did you expect anything more? It's all meaningless. School, home, living.

💚

"Oh honey, did you take a cab?" Your mother asks as she finds you waiting on the kettle in the kitchen.

Her face is puffy with her hangover, her voice croaky and dry. You force a smile. Lie. That's what people do.

"Yes," you answer, you won't mention you spent all your money on the train because she never bought the ticket like she promised.

"I'm so sorry, I must have fallen asleep," she comes to you and squeezes your shoulder. You see her hesitate. When you were a girl, she'd kiss your cheeks and call you pretty, now she seems pained to just be around you. "Honey, can you make me some coffee while you're at it?"

"Yes, mom," you reply, another sort of lie. The kind where you pretend you're okay.

You go about filling the tank and loading the filter. You hit start as the kettle whistles. You poor the piping water over a bag to steep. She grumbles and you turn to face her as she smiles at her phone.

"Did you meet any cute boys? Eh? Oh, you're old enough to come down to the bar with me!"

Your nostrils flare. Professor Laufeyson isn't exactly a boy and that was just a joke. You shake your head.

"I've been studying--"

"Oh, but college is for getting wild, isn't it?" She trills, "when I was your age, oh, the boys I met... the things we did. Not like they don't still come around. I met this looker last week-- Twenty-three, can you believe it?"

Her lipstick is smeared around her lips. You wonder if she went to the bar last night, came home when she got nothing more than an overpriced cocktail. You purse your lips and shrug.

"So cute," she goes on.

No remorse, no apology for leaving you out in the cold. If she even thinks of it. She probably doesn't even realise.

"Oh! Your room!" She grasps her head as she moves too quickly, "of course. Well, you see, I had an idea. I'm going to have a balcony built on the outside and turn it into a sunroom. Now you're out of the house-- I don't think you'll be back. You've got three years ahead of you, I'm sure you'll find a husband to take care of you--"

"I don't want a husband," you say, "but... I won't come back."

You take the milk out of the fridge and pour some in your tea. Then you grab the cream and mix your mother's coffee, bringing it to her out of habit. You don't mention that she hasn't put up the tree. No bother, just like you.

"Nonsense, you don't want a man? To take care of you? If you put in a bit of effort, I'm sure you'd hook one. And maybe smile, hmm? Come on, honey, you need a man to hold you tight and tell you sweet things--"

"You don't got one neither," you blurt out, clapping your hand over your mouth. You back up and shake your head, slipping your palm down, "I'm sorry, I--"

She scoffs and takes a gulp of her tea, bitterness burning in her scowl, "well, aren't you the precious little virgin? Rubbing it in? Tight little thing like you should be enjoying her youth. You take it all for granted. Not like me, I popped you out and you ruined everything--"

"Mommy, please," you beg, "I didn't mean it."

You hate when she's like this. When she turns cruel. It's easier to make her happy, to tell her what she wants to hear.

"Mommy, I'm sorry. You're right. I'm... pathetic."

She exhales and curls her lip, "don't be dramatic, alright? I didn't raise you to be such a..." she mutters but you don't know what she says. "I'm hungover, darling..." that word freezes you, you remember it in another voice. His. "Just gimme some time to get myself together."

"Yes, mom," you hold your tea snug, trying to absorb some of the warmth, "maybe we can go see the lights tonight?"

"Not tonight," she retorts quickly, "ladies have some plans. Some spicy egg nog and maybe a bit more, eh?"

She cackles, once more putting on that act. The carefree cougar sharpening her claws. You're a kitten, a stray at the road side. You're unwanted.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #bucky barnes #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #series #forbidden lessons #mcu #marvel #professor!loki #professor!bucky

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chvnssecret · 2 years

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I would pay a monthly subscription for Felix to produce Bf ASMR audio.

His content would be as spicy as Professor Cal's.

Can you imagine his deep gravelly voice telling you spicy things?

'Such a good girl, I love it when you're being a good girl for me'.

I know you're not taking requests but it would be such a good idea for the future :)

i absolutely am taking requests my lovely! i’ve been checking my box all day to see if i had any :)

but omg stop, his deep croaky voice omg😭😩 i can imagine him humming close to the mic too and telling you you’re doing a good job 😵‍💫😵‍💫

thank you, precious!

#skz hard hours #hard hours #skz smut #lee felix #chvnssecret #kpop #kpop smut #skz x reader

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jnselfshipping · 1 year

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im late but if ur still doing them!! 6 and 16!!

OH for the voice thing? of course of course, but i might do them a bit later in the day <33

EDIT: I HAVE DONE THEM (sorry if my voice is croaky!! i ate too much spicy food) @pacifirim

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fieldofdaisiies · 2 years

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Azriel | The Pleasure Hall Part I

type: sad to fluffy, partly spicy

warning(s): mature (a bit smutty and definitely suggestive); the setting is a pleasure hall; curse words; fluffy towards the end

word count: 1920 words

summary: what if Azriel followed Rhys‘s suggestions of going to the pleasure hall but the evening turns out quite different to what he had expected…

——————————

"If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her."

Rhys‘s words still hollowed through the Shadowsinger‘s mind when he entered the pleasure hall. Strutting through the entry hall, he waddled up to the counter, immediately downing a drink before requesting a room for the night.

"Room 4. Lady Melody, she is quite an exquisite piece. She should be to your liking.” the owner of the pleasure hall informed the Shadowsinger. Azriel snorted, grabbing his glass, nodding. Exquisite piece.

He doubted that she would be to his liking, his thoughts still somehow travelling to the middle Archeron sister.

Lusting and longing gazes followed Azriel out of the main room outwards to were the more private rooms were. Primal noises, moans and screams filled the empty corridors, many scents of arousal mingling which made the Shadowsinger grimace.

Gods…it had been ages since he had last been here. Not only he. The three of them - Rhys, Cass and Azriel - used to come here a lot in their younger years. They only ever booked girls to dance for them for a whole night while they got absolutely shit-faced. Never had they tried more or even touched them.

This would change now. Although Azriel had never requested other services than dancing, he was sure of what he would do now. He was just going to take everything he wanted that night. Anger, shame and rage burned in his veins when he knocked, the confidence immediately slipping from him when a female voice reached his ears.

Her voice…her voice, it was soft, mellow and sweet. It sounded mellifluous but simultaneously absolutely seductive and tempting. Nothing he had ever before.

"No false shyness, come in. There is nothing—" He stepped in, his eyes falling onto the female kneeling on the large velvet bed.

"Shadowsinger? There is nothing to worry about, was what I was going to say. Come here." She extended her slim, pale hand signalling Azriel to come over.

His gaze swept over her, momentarily stopping at her full breasts that were only covered by a thin, lacy piece of fabric. He had been terribly wrong — she definitely was to his liking. In the dim and red lit room her hair seemed a chocolate brown, her skin pale, her plump, full lips tinted a crimson red. Her dilated pupils danced over his body, an amused smile on her lips.

Carefully setting down his glass on a table next to the door and kicking the door shut with his foot, he moved one scarred hand to the top button of his jacket, opening it.

"La-dy Meldoy?" He immediately cleared his throat, not expecting his voice to be so croaky and hoarse.

"Or Mel, whatever you prefer, shadow boy." She grinned, shifting on the bed. A smirk appeared on Azriel’s face due to the nickname. Shadow boy.

Gracefully he swept over to the bed, opening more buttons and tossing his jacket onto a chair next to the bed.

"How can I be of service tonight? What can I do to make you feel good? How can I make you feel good?” she seductively whispered, glancing up at him with big eyes and biting down on her lip. For a moment Azriel watched her breasts heave with her deep breathing.

This was wrong. His stomach twisted when she went into a sitting position, patting the spot in front of her. His shadows curled around him while he tucked in his wings.

“Do you want this?“

Throwing her head back, she roared with laughter, “That is my job, you know? But since you asked so kindly, which absolutely irritates me, yes I do.” Her smile was genuine and finally Azriel sat down on the bed, quite close to her, her hand immediately moving to his strong thigh.

Azriel could feel the heat creep into his cheeks. What a stupid question that had been? Do you want this? What other choice did she have.

“Unless you don’t want this..but then I would question why you came here?” her voice turned teasing, moving back onto her knees she shifted closer to the Shadowsinger, whose breath hitched in his throat. “Tell me what you want and I will give it to you?” she hoarsely whispered, her wet lips all of a sudden brushing his neck…then the shell of his ear. Her hand travelled further up on his thigh, nearly touching his most private parts before she stopped. “Now, tell me. I am waiting,” she giggled, amusement written all over her face and an expectant look in her eyes. “Tell me.” He wanted her, of course, but also not. This was wrong. This was not who he was. Not who he wanted to be. Taking advantage of her like this, only because it was her job. But he wanted a distraction.

Quickly turning his head, he pressed his lips onto hers, his hand moving up her neck, into her thick hair. “I want to fuck you, now.”

Biting down on his lower lip, her tongue slipped into his mouth, meeting Azriel's with every stroke while her hand moved further up on his thigh, squeezing and palming the noticeable bulge in his pants.

“Oh fuck,” the Spymaster groaned, when he shortly pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting their mouths. There was no going back now. He quite harshly pushed her back onto the bed, she squealed but only a second later his mouth was on hers again. Azriel quickly ripped the fabric of her torso, palming her breasts and teasing the pebbled hardness on the peaks them. Her moan was like music in the Shadowsinger’s ears. Arching her back, she rubbed her hips against him, making him grow even harder, but fuck—

He quickly pulled away, sitting back and staring at her disheveled figure, lying on the bed with her eyes wide open.

“What? Have I done…have I done something that was not to your liking? Is it the moaning? I am sorry. I will try to be calm, I know some males do not like it.” Azriel quickly held up a hand, shaking his head.

“No gods, no. Your moans are…fucking beguiling. Some deep primal part of me thinks I could get off by just hearing them, but—”

“But what?” She quickly sat up, not minding at all that her upper body was completely nude, her full breasts bouncing with the swift movement.

“I cannot do this. This is wrong. It feels wrong. I cannot take advantage of you like that. This is not me.” She nodded her head, some sort of understanding shining in her eyes. “But it is my job.”

“I know…I still cannot do it.”

“Why did you come here then? Why did you come here on Solstice Night? Why are you not with your family? Or friends?” Fuck, that cut deep somehow. She must have noticed the change in his features and quickly grabbed his scarred hand in both her tiny hands, holding it tightly. She did not seem to mind the scars at all…

“I am sorry. That was wrong of me to ask. That is absolutely none on my concern. In order to make it up, I will reveal a secret to you. I am only working tonight, because I have no none to celebrate Solstice with. No family. Or I do. But they no longer want to be seen with me as I am the disgrace of the family. The whore who spreads her legs for every male in Prythian. Which is funny since they are the reason why I work here. Because they kicked me out as my not biological father did not want to raise a bastard born child. I work here tonight because I did not want to be alone on Solstice.” The words just blurted out of her mouth, leaving the Shadowsinger in utter surprise and sadness. Why was she so honest with him? He gaped, rubbing his thumb over her palm. “I am sorry to hear that.”

“It is fine. But I have noticed that something is bothering you as well. I immediately felt this sorrow, this longing and this utter pain and sadness when you entered the room. And also the slight shame. It felt like we were connected and I could feel every emotion you went through. So much is troubling you?” Her eyes were wide open, her mouth slightly parted while she examined his beautiful face, leaning slightly closer.

“I am just feeling quite lonely lately.” he admitted, not quite knowing why he told her, a total stranger, something that he had not even revealed to his brothers. “That is alright, there is nothing to be ashamed about, Azriel. Azriel it is, right? You work for the High Lord, that is how I know.” He nodded.

“You can stay here tonight. Then you won’t be alone. I assume you booked me for the whole night? We do not need to do anything, but—“ she paused, squeezing his hand. “I will listen to you, Shadowsinger. Tell me what is going on, pour your heart and soul out. I will listen to every word you say and make you feel less alone. It is also what I need. Although many males come and go every day and night, I am always feeling terribly alone, lonely. Maybe tonight it is time that we both experience a change. A Solstice present for the both of us.” A smile tugged on the Spymaster’s lips, his heart warming with her kindness. He lifted his hand, brushing his fingers up her bare arm, travelling further up until his fingers curled around her neck, his thumb brushing her jaw. He pulled her head closer to him and kissed her forehead. Mel giggled, quite perplexed over this…nice gesture.

“I think this would be a very lovely idea.” he stated and the young female lay back on the bed, smiling up at him.

“Come here. You can lie down there or on my chest, which ever spot you prefer and then we talk.” After some hot minutes of deliberating he really opted for her bare chest, wanting to feel some warmth and touch.

Burying his face in her skin, he took in her scent. Sweet, chocolaty, a touch of vanilla and something fiery. Her hand moved into his her, stroking his scalp, the soft thrumming of his heart luring him into a peaceful comfort he hadn’t felt in ages.

“Now, tell me, shadow boy…tell me everything you want to get of your heart. Pour all your sorrows and pain onto me and let me help you with that if I cannot be of any other service.” The light giggled at the end of her uttering made her chest vibrate to which Azriel placed a soft, wet kiss on to the top of one her breasts before he opened his mouth and talked. Talked about everything that had been going on inside of his mind…and heart. And she listened. Listened to every word the Shadowsinger was saying.

I normally only write longer stories on wattpad, but this thing came to my mind and I wanted to share it somewhere, so here you go…I hope you enjoyed it :)

part II

#azriel shadowsinger #a court of silver flames #shadowsinger #acosf #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel smut #velaris #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x oc

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ffakc · 3 years

Text

The Boys of Fall - a Jeffrey Dean Morgan fanfiction

I based this off a dream I had where Jeff and my dad were watching football together. I was being super flirty the whole time while Jeff just wanted to watch the game 😂

The Chicago Bears versus the Seattle Seahawks. Tim versus Jeff. My loving dad versus my loving husband. I prepared a feast of game day snacks for my guys and picked up their favorite brews. Today was going to be intense, to say the least.

I build a plate of food and head to the living room. The game was well underway. Jeff taps his knee with a smile and I sit on his lap.

“Here, try this,” I run my fingers through Jeff’s graying hair and kiss him. I hold a chip with hot spinach dip up to his mouth. He takes a large bite.

“Oh my,” he rolls his eyes back, “Did you make this?” he takes a sip of ice cold beer. I gesture to my mom. “Ma, you’ve really outdone yourself!”

“Thanks, Jeff!” my mom smiles. My husband looks over his array of snacks, trying to decide what to sample next.

“I’m 24 years old and I still don’t understand football,” I laugh and continue petting Jeff’s hair.

“I’ve explained it to you before!” my dad says.

“Well, the gist of it is the defense tries to prevent the offense from scoring the football. The offense must advance the ball at least 10 yards every four plays or downs. Each time the offense is successful in advancing the ball 10 yards, they get four more downs or what is called a ‘first down’. Does that make sense, sweetheart?” Jeff explains.

“A little bit,” I reply, “You’re so cute when you talk about the stuff you love.” I curl up under the fuzzy blanket while Jeff’s hands rub my back.

“These wings are delicious too, doll. And you don’t even miss the meat!” Jeff remarks, biting into a cauliflower Buffalo wing.

“Yeah, she made those for Grandpa once and damn near killed him,” my dad jokes.

“It’s true! I think I added more hot sauce than barbecue,” I giggle.

“I don’t mind a little heat,” Jeff replies.

“Well, if you’re going to eat those spicy wings,” I lean into Jeff’s ear, my voice barely above a whisper, “You better brush your teeth real good later. I want your mouth all over me, Daddy.” I feel Jeff get excited in his gray Seahawks sweatpants, grateful he was under the blanket, for those sweatpants definitely didn’t leave much to the imagination. He squeezes my backside and bites his lower lip. His face quickly turns to frustration.

“NOT A PASS!!! GOD DAMN IT!!!” my husband yells, causing me to flinch, “Sorry, babe,” Jeff rubs my shoulder, “Didn’t mean to scare you.” My dad laughs maniacally.

“Well, Mr. Morgan! Look who’s not doing so hot!” Jeff tosses up a middle finger with a smirk. “Hey now, play nice. Just because your team sucks doesn’t mean you get to flip off your father in law.”

“Can I smack your dad?” Jeff jokes.

“Jeffrey!” I playfully slap his chest and we all laugh, “How about another beer?” Jeff nods.

“God, I really love your daughter, Mr. C,” Jeff says as I hand him the beverage with a kiss, “Thanks, baby.” I sit back on my husband’s knee.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else for a son in law, Jeff. Look at the way she looks at you.” I make a goofy face and Jeff wheezes, “Okay, maybe not like THAT. But it makes me so happy to see her happy. She never holds back about how much she loves you, and don’t we all want that in a partner?”

“Very true, I’ll drink to that. I love you, (name).”

“I love you too, Jeffrey,” I nuzzle my head in the crook of his neck.

***

I waited for my husband to finish his shower as I dicked around on my phone. We were sleeping in my childhood bedroom. I shut off the lamp next to the bed, letting the moonlight illuminate the space I used to call my own. The crisp, fall breeze feels heavenly. Jeff appears in the doorway, hair damp and pajama bottoms clinging to his hips. His manly, brunette chest hair turned me on like crazy. He shuts and locks the door behind him.

“Nice room you’ve got here. I dig the orange walls,” my husband looks around.

“Yeah, I think we repainted my junior year of high school. I was going through an artsy phase,” I giggle.

“It’s very cozy,” Jeff smiles and places his glasses on the nightstand. I beckon with my finger. “What are you doin’, Princess?” He climbs on top of me and kisses me deeply, tasting very faintly of cigarettes, but mostly like minty toothpaste, “Oh, I see. I know what you want. Don’t worry,” he glides his tongue over his teeth, “Nice and clean, no more Buffalo sauce,” he teases. I laugh as he buries his face in my neck, kissing and moaning. My husband smells so damn good. Jeff’s kisses trail down my body, “Look at my little girl. Oh fuck yes. So wet already, Princess?” he rasps, burying his nose in the freshly trimmed hair of my most sensitive area.

“You always get me there, Daddy,” I nod and bite my lip.

“You smell scrumptious. Good enough to eat, baby cakes,” Jeff lowers his voice to a whisper, “We’re going to have to keep it down a bit, doll,” Jeff makes a satisfied “mmm” noise and he sucks my clit, “Don’t want Mom and Dad to know how good I tongue-fuck you, hm?” He slurps loudly, “That’s my good girl.” He kisses around my outer lips and slides a finger inside.

“Daddy,” I whine, “Oh fuck!” I rock myself against Jeff’s hot, wet mouth as he grips my hips. He adds another slender finger and begins curling them slightly, hitting just the right spot. “Jeffrey, oh god yes! Jeffrey!” I gasp. Staying quiet while my silver fox’s tongue dove in and out and around every inch of me was damn near impossible.

“You sure have a pretty little pussy, my gorgeous wife,” I LOVED when Jeff called me that. I was Mrs. Morgan, now and forever, and he was never going to let me go. Jeff brings me to the edge of a mind blowing orgasm and readjusts himself. He hovers above me, pressing his lips into mine. “I’m going to fuck your pretty little brains out now,” Jeff lets out a vaguely Negan sounding chuckle. I beg for it as he taps the tip of his hard cock against my clit, “But maybe,” I run my hands over his stomach and across his chest, his nipples hardening from the stimulation and the cool night air. “Maybe I want you to beg for it, sweetheart,” his croaky voice gives me chills.

“Please, I need it so bad,” I can barely speak.

“I can’t hear you,” Jeff teases.

“Please, Jeff! I need your big, fat cock inside of me!” I speak a little louder.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Jeff sinks into me with a groan, “I ain’t going to last long, you feel so go-oh hell yes, that’s it. Right there,” he bites his lower lip as he thrusts deep and slow, smooth and even. The fullness makes me shake. He hushes me gently as he brushes two fingers over my clit, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, sweetheart, I’m so close.”

“Come on, Daddy. Finish inside me, Jeff. Please finish insi- oh fuck! Fuck me harder!” I whine. Jeff quickens his pace as small beads of sweat gather on his forehead. Jeff curses under his breath, making low growls of pleasure.

“You want it in your pussy, hm? You want Daddy to breed you good?” I nod quickly and inhale sharply as an intense orgasm overtakes me. I shove my face in the pillow, attempting to muffle my sounds. “I’m fucking cumming, Princess, oh fuck yes! Yes, baby girl! Oh god!” I drip with Jeff’s sticky, warm juices as he pulls out. He rests his head on my chest and I begin stroking his hair.

“Jeffrey Dean, you fucking animal,” I pant.

“I’ve still got it. At 54, I’ve still got it,” Jeff jokes.

***

Jeff pours himself a cup of coffee and joins us at the dining room table. He rests his head on my shoulder lovingly.

“Did you sleep good? You look tired, Jeff,” my mom laughs.

“Yeah, slept wonderfully,” Jeff smiles.

“Is everyone still coming over later?” I ask.

“As far as I know. If you two want to run to the store-“

“Okay, I have to say something. It’s bugging the hell out of me,” my dad speaks up.

“You okay, Mr. C?” Jeff looks confused.

“Yeah, um, I couldn’t sleep last night. Now, I can’t stop you guys from doing what married couples do, just know that the headboard in that bedroom is LOOSE and LOUD,” my dad says.

“Oh my god,” I bury my face in my hands and Jeff turns red.

“Just be more careful, okay bud?” my dad pats his son in law’s shoulder.

“Yes sir,” Jeff holds back laughter. I sip my coffee with a smirk, squeezing Jeff’s knee under the table. And here we thought we were being sneaky.

#denny duquette #fanfic #fanfiction #greys anatomy #jeffrey dean morgan #negan #the walking dead #older man younger woman #john winchester #supernatural

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naariel · 2 years

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okay I really need to stop now before it gets too... *croaky voice* spicy...

#I'm considering just turning this into a shirtless pin up #he's not shirtless when he's catching fish with feyre but... I mean... come on #but then again I do love the poofy pirate shirt look... Especially when it shows off a bit of cleavage...#DECISiONS DECISIONS #he's also looking a bit too bulky #i'll slim him down a bit me thinks

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fairytales-of-yesterday · 4 years

Text

The Fantastic Drowse

Pairing: Roger Taylor x reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: nudity, it’s not smut though, illness (the flu), allusions to sex, it’s really really soft and cozy, my first use of the f word in a fic, mentions of stretch marks

A/N: Oh my god I’m soft. That’s it, I’m just insanely soft. This is for all of you that need a hug as much as I do. And who doesn’t love a good old-fashioned lover boy sick fic?

When you’d first started feeling bad, you hadn’t planned on telling anyone. You’d never liked asking for help, not wanting to inconvenience anyone. Although you did desperately want Roger with you, you’d gotten through countless colds when you were single, so you figured you’d get over it quickly and then laugh with friends about it later. Sadly, the universe had other plans, and by the fifth day of aches and shivers and sniffles, you were done. It really had started out fine, but after you got a bit too close to passing out just from trying to wash a few dishes, you knew you had to reach out.

It took you around ten minutes to convince yourself to pick up the phone and call your boyfriend. You had it all planned out, you were gonna tell him you weren’t feeling well and ask for help like an adult. The call had started with questions about recording and how the boys were, but Roger was quick to realize you sounded off.

“Darling, are you doing okay? You sound a bit… croaky.”

Hearing the twinge of concern in his voice, you bit your lip and lowered the phone a bit, covering up the receiver. You could lie. You could just tell him your allergies were acting up, that you’d eaten something spicy, that you’d been tidying up your flat and inhaled a bit of dust. However, as a chill passed through you, your bones aching at the slight movement, you knew you couldn’t. You cursed your body as you held the phone up to your face again.

“I…” you sighed, “I don’t feel great. When you finish recording, could you come over?”

“Oh, my love,” he cooed quietly, “absolutely, I’ll be over as soon as I possibly can. What’s wrong?”

“‘M just a bit under the weather, Rog, it’s okay, I’m alright.”

You knew your reassurances were hopeless as he began asking you when it started, if you’d been getting rest and eating well. You felt awful for phoning, for worrying him, but a warmth settled in your chest at his concern.

On the other end of the line, Roger stood in the corner of the studio, twisting the phone cord into knots similar to the ones in his stomach. The idea of you alone and feeling bad was not a happy one. He should be home. He was quiet for a moment, before sighing softly.

“I wish you’d told me sooner, dove, I’d’ve been over days ago.”

“Roger, I know you’ve gotta work, I wasn’t gonna take you away from the album.”

His frown, audible in his quiet hum of acknowledgement, mirrored the one you wore. What you really wanted to do was ask how much longer he’d be there, but you already felt bad enough for worrying him and asking him to come over, so you kept your mouth shut. The boys couldn’t just call it a week because you were ill.

He asked if you needed him to pick up any medicine for you on his way, and you politely declined, not wanting to bother him more than you already were. He sounded unconvinced, but didn’t press. He knew no matter what you said that he’d be making a few stops before he went over to your place. It was quiet for another moment or two before a shout from somewhere behind him told you it was time for him to get back. You held back a sad sigh.

“God, I’ve gotta get back to those mugs, but I promise I’ll be home as soon as I possibly can.” He forced a quiet laugh, pretending he wasn’t coming up with worst-case-scenarios at a mile a minute. You couldn’t be fooled though, and you immediately brightened your tone, hoping to convince him you were fine.

“No, no it’s okay! You tell them I say hello, and I love them!”

You could hear the gentle grin in his voice.

“Will do. Love you so much, and I’ll see you so soon.”

“I love you too, Rog,” you whispered, not wanting to hang up.

You said goodbye back and forth a few times, trying to delay it as long as you could, but eventually you heard another shout from Brian, and you knew you had to let him go.

As soon as the phone was back in its cradle, you wrapped yourself back up in your little cocoon, trying to stave off the shivers that had been plaguing you for the past few days. You turned the tv on and flipped to something mindless. Smiling softly to yourself at the idea of Roger coming home, your last thought before dozing off was if he’d be back in time for dinner.

“Fuck,” Roger swore loudly as he hit a cymbal offbeat for the fourth time. The others flinched at the sound, watching as he slammed his sticks down, and stood up abruptly. He’d been frustrated for the past few hours, and it was showing. He could hardly focus, his mind elsewhere, and his friends could tell. They were worried but afraid to ask, knowing any little thing could set him off. They knew it had started after you’d gotten off the phone, and didn’t want to pry with him this upset, but it was getting to be too much.

“Alright, Rog?” John was the first to speak up.

Roger’s head snapped towards the bassist, eyes wide, as if he hadn’t even realized he was causing a slight scene.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, sorry,” he sighed, trying to calm himself down. Brian gave him a look that said “bullshit,” and he looked away, frustrated, knowing he’d been caught. He just couldn't help it. His earlier goodbye had left a bad taste in his mouth. You were the only thing on his mind.

“C’mon, love, what’s up?” Freddie moved to Roger’s kit, coming around so he could clearly see the drummer unobscured by cymbals. Roger sat back down, propped his arms up on his knees, and rubbed his hands over his face. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry, not tonight. Sighing, he looked up at his friends.

“Y/N just called and said she’s feeling poorly. ‘M just worried is all.”

The boys’ faces softened a bit, now understanding his outburst. You and Roger had only been together for a few months, but they could see how absolutely taken he was with you. You’d become quite close to the whole band honestly. Roger was happier with you than he’d been with anyone in a long time, and the others adored you as well. They’d quickly started inviting you to hang out with them, sometimes even without Roger knowing. You had found a new best friend in each of them. John moved to stand beside Freddie and asked if you were alright.

“Hm? Oh, yeah she’s- I mean, she says she’s fine, told me to tell you lot she loves you.” The others smiled softly, each planning on calling and checking on you at some point in the coming days. Roger smiled to himself as well, stricken for a moment by just how much he loves you, before frowning again. “But she said she’s been ill for a week.” Roger paused to rub his eyes again. “And I didn’t even know.”

Deaky smiled sympathetically at his friend before glancing at Brian and Freddie, giving them a pointed look. They both nodded knowingly as Roger dropped his face back into his hands in thought.

“Plus,” Roger continued, muffled only slightly by his palms, “she hardly ever asks me for help or anything. ‘M just worried it’s bad.”

“Well, what are you still doing here then?” Freddie asked with a smirk.

“Trying to record an album,” Roger chuckled in exasperation, missing the point entirely, his mind still on you. “Emphasis on ‘trying.’ Feels like I’ve forgotten how to bloody play.”

The boys rolled their eyes, realizing he hadn’t understood what Freddie meant, and Brian came up, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Go home, you berk.”

Roger’s head shot up almost comically.

“Sorry?”

“Mate, you’re worried, we’ve all been there. We’ve made a lot of progress today, and I think we’re all ready for a little break.”

The blond smiled softly, still unsure if it was really okay for them to call it a day.

“Are you positive? If you let me go, I’m not sure you’ll ever get me back in here,” he chuckled, trying to mask his concern.

Freddie, John, and Brian each gave him a look that said “please just go home” and he laughed again, genuinely, shaking his head. As soon as he relented, the boys were basically ushering him out the door, giving him as many tips as they could think of while putting on their own jackets.

“You boys know I studied biology, right? I can take care of my sick girlfriend,” he chuckled as he pulled his coat on. Deaky grinned, trying to wrangle his scarf.

“Rog, just because you know how many bones there are in the body doesn’t mean you have any common sense whatsoever.”

“Oh piss off,” he sighed, trying to hide his grin. “God, you fuck up one hard boiled egg and you’re branded incompetent!”

When you woke later that evening, still cozied up on the couch, you hadn’t expected to see Roger sitting in the chair adjacent to you with his glasses on and a book in hand. But there he was.

His hair was backlit by a dim lamp, creating a golden halo around his soft features. You couldn’t help but smile at your handsome love. He looked about as cozy as you did, with a blanket draped over his shoulders and a cuppa beside him. He had changed since leaving the studio, not that you would have known, and instead of his usual flashy getup, he was wearing an old, seemingly loved jumper that made you want to curl up in his arms and never leave. Forehead creased in concentration, he absentmindedly played with his own hair as his eyes scanned the pages, still not used to how short it was after years of having it down past his shoulders. Every now and again you heard him make little noises of surprise or agreement at whatever story he was caught up in, and you smiled, endeared beyond belief. A few tears sprang to your eyes as the sheer relief of seeing him home settled in. You knew you had missed him, but having him here now… gosh. He was a sight for sore eyes.

Roger’s head shot up the second he heard you sniffle, his eyes meeting yours. He sheepishly ripped his glasses off his now red face, reflexively embarrassed to be seen with them, and moved from his seat to sit next to you.

“When,” you paused to clear your throat, “when did you get here?”

He smiled softly, brushing some hair out of your face as he responded.

“About an hour ago, I figured I’d let you sleep.”

You frowned as you rubbed your tired eyes. You hadn’t meant to sleep for so long. Before you could apologize though, he was tilting your chin up with his long fingers.

Your breath caught in your throat as he looked over you. You always felt breathless watching him focus on something, but it always took the cake when he was focused on you. His eyes swept over your face as you tried to keep your breathing steady, and he asked you a few questions, about your symptoms and when they started. You answered him as honestly as you could, a bit confused as to what he was doing and lost in his blue eyes.

After asking you what your last temperature was (and you shyly admitting you hadn’t taken it in a few days), he gave you a chaste kiss on the forehead and stood up. Muttering he’d be back in a moment, he went back in the direction of your bathroom. You remained on the couch, still a bit confused. He said he studied dentistry for a time, right? He wasn’t going to be a doctor? You could have sworn it was dentistry.

You didn’t have much time to keep wondering though, as he quickly made his way back to you, thermometer in hand.

“Alright, darling, open wide.”

You didn’t know if it was the soft way he said it, the words themselves, or both combined, but you couldn’t deny the way your knees went weak at his gentle command. You saw his eyes darken slightly at the way you immediately obeyed, opening your mouth and letting him put the thermometer in, but sadly, the moment passed the second you almost sneezed it across the room.

“Okay, let’s try that one more time, yeah?” He chuckled softly as you nodded, embarrassed.

This time when he put the thermometer in, he made sure to hold it there, his other hand gently cupping your face. You couldn’t help the blush that darkened your features at the intimacy of the action. He was so close. His eyes met yours, still dark, and you swallowed hard.

“Right I uh… I think it’s been three minutes,” Roger laughed hoarsely, as caught up in the moment as you were. Taking the thermometer from you, he looked at it once before huffing slightly and pulling his glasses back out. Your heart grew ten sizes as he slipped them onto his nose. Now able to see the small numbers, he frowned to himself.

“38.2. Do you feel warm, love?” He felt your forehead as you shook your head and pulled your blanket tighter around you.

His frown deepened slightly, but when he caught you looking at him worriedly, he was quick to reassure you.

“I think you’ve got a mild flu, love, nothing to worry about, I’ve got ya.”

You smiled gratefully and asked teasingly,

“What would I do without you, Dr. Taylor?”

The air shifted for a second, almost like you’d knocked the wind out of him. Now wasn’t the time to ask about it, but the way his eyes darkened at your words did not escape your notice.

Dr. Taylor, huh? You’d remember to ask him about that later.

Quickly though, he regained his composure, and smiled sweetly.

“Crash and burn, my love. Same thing I’d do without you.”

You grinned, but before you could respond, he was standing up. You scrambled to sit up all the way, not wanting him to leave you. He moved to take his glasses off, but you croaked out a soft protest.

“Wait!” He looked at you questioningly, freezing with his hand halfway to his face. “Keep them on?” You paused to sneeze. “Please? You look really lovely.” You couldn’t help the blush that overtook your cheeks, now embarrassed about your outburst, but it was nothing compared to the shade Roger’s face had become. He smiled bashfully, and held his hands up in mock surrender, and left his spectacles where they were. Your grin at his assent could’ve outshone the sun, and he mumbled a quiet thanks, love before he flashed you a kind smile, turned around, and disappeared into your tiny kitchen.

Adjusting the blanket around you once more, you listened to the sounds coming from the next room. There was a clattering of dishes as Roger did… whatever he was doing, and you smiled to yourself. You just hoped he didn’t break anything.

You didn’t have to wait long before he was coming back with two plates and two mugs precariously balanced in his arms.

“Rog, oh my god,” you croaked, moving to stand. His face reddened at your hoarse words, but he still shot you a look, maneuvering to sit next to you.

“If you get up and try to help me, I will genuinely shove you back down.”

You huffed a laugh, but stayed put. You did help him once he sat down, taking the mugs and your plate to let him get comfortable. He smiled gratefully, taking his mug back from you, and passed you some silverware he pulled from his pocket.

“Dinner is served, madame,” he gestured to your plate, speaking in what you hesitated to call a French accent. You giggled softly, bowing slightly in appreciation.

“Roger.. didn’t you take French?”

“I have an A level in it actually!” He nearly dropped his fork as he laughed. “Doesn’t mean I actually know anything about it.”

You stifled another giggle as you admitted he did have a point and turned your attention to your plate, starving after not eating all day. You paused though as you realized what he’d handed you.

“Wait… did you get takeout?”

He blushed a bit, putting his hand up for a minute as he finished a bite, and then nodded.

“I stopped by on the way home! Knew it was your favorite.”

Tears stung your eyes again, emotions running rampant due to your fever, and you took his free hand with one of yours. The second he noticed you were crying, his fork clattered to his plate.

“Woah, love,” he was quick to take your other hand as well, “are you okay? What’s wrong, dove?”

You tried to hide your face as you squeezed his hands reassuringly.

“Don’t look at me!” You laughed through sniffles, “I’m okay. I just… I missed you a lot.”

He laughed outright at that, a warm smile on his face, and leaned over to give you a quick kiss on your temple before digging back into his dinner.

“I missed you too, darling. More than you could imagine.”

Once the two of you were full, and once he’d coaxed you into eating just a few more bites, love, c’mon to make up for your lack of an appetite the past few days, you found yourself in his embrace. You lay down in his lap, and he soothingly ran his hands up and down your arms, telling you stories from the studio and watching as you struggled to keep your eyes open. The only indicators that you were still at least somewhat listening were your hums of acknowledgement and your occasional quiet laughter. You were in heaven, really. Your nap had actually been restful, you’d eaten your favorite food, and you had Roger. You couldn’t even dream of ever leaving his arms. Until he went to play with your hair.

You groaned weakly, trying to grab his wrists as he moved to massage your scalp. He looked down at you quizzically, immediately worried he’d done something wrong, but you quickly laced your fingers with his to let him know he was alright. “I haven’t showered in like three days,” you managed to chuckle sheepishly. His eyes softened, worry leaving his face, as you continued. “My hair feels gross right now.”

“Well guess what?” You cocked an eyebrow at him before he smiled playfully. “I don’t care.” Before you could protest again, he took his hands from yours, and he was running his fingers through your hair. You groaned again, this time in pleasure. Chuckling, he scratched your scalp gently and watched as you melted in his lap. You still clung to his wrists, but instead of stopping him, you pulled him closer.

“Y’know, darling,” he mused, trying to work out a knot, “I could wash your hair for you.”

Your eyes fluttered open at his proposition. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, laughing when you gave him a slight shove, and pressed on.

“I’m serious! I could wash your hair, give you a whole bath if you like! You’d feel so much better, little love.”

Your face reddened at one of your favorite terms of endearment, but his proposition definitely piqued your interest.

But god, he’s already done so much.

You snuggled deeper into his lap, pressing your face against his soft tummy, and mumbled something, but it was completely muffled by his warm jumper.

“What was that?” He couldn’t help but giggle as he felt you huff against him, your breath warming him through his shirt. You rolled over a bit so that you were looking up at him once more. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I don’t wanna be a bother.”

His expression softened, a sadness creeping over him. He untangled one of his hands from your hair to gently cup your chin and make you look at him.

“Love, you could never ever come close to being a bother.”

You blushed a bit, still nervous. You really didn’t want to be too much of a hassle. You had already taken him away from work and his friends, and he’d gone through the trouble of bringing you food. He’d already done more than you could have dreamed of.

He watched with a small smile as your eyes clouded over. All he wanted to do was help you, and he could tell that you loved being looked after. But, you were so hesitant to be any sort of burden, even though you couldn’t be if you tried. He just cared about you so much. He wanted to show you.

A soft tap on your cheek brought you back to reality. Roger’s voice was as gentle as could be.

“Do you trust me?”

You nodded, a few tears pricking your eyes.

“Then let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

Your vision blurred, and a lump formed in your throat as you nodded once more and whispered a quiet,

“Okay.”

Roger laughed softly as he scooped you up in his arms.

“You’re a soppy little thing when you’re ill, aren’t you?”

You hit his chest lightly in mock offense and smiled playfully.

“I’m this sentimental when I’m well, and you know it.”

He set you down when you got to the bathroom and started the water running before gently grabbing the hem of your shirt. He looked at you, the question in his eyes. Your gaze fell to his hands.

The two of you had only been dating for a few months. You’d kissed, you’d said your ‘I love yous,’ you’d gotten a bit hot and heavy, but you hadn’t gone all the way. You really thought the first time he saw you would be a bit nicer than this. Maybe with some lingerie or some slow music. You hadn’t planned on it being with you not having showered in days and unable to breathe through your nose. Even well you were insecure. It hit you now like a ton of bricks.

But then you looked up at him, into his kind eyes. He smiled at you softly, gently reminding you that you really didn’t have to go through with this if you weren’t comfortable. He could always turn around until you were in the tub, or he could carry you back to the couch and watch a nice movie with you. But you were positive. Taking a deep breath, you gave him the go-ahead. His eyes softened.

“You sure? Really, it’s okay if you’re not up for this.”

You nodded once more. You trusted him.

“Alright, arms up then, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, a warm smile on his face. His fingertips tickled your sides as he lifted your t-shirt up and over your head. You giggled quietly, trying to squirm away from him, and he laughed brightly. “There’s my girl,” he grinned, tossing your shirt into the hamper and giving you a kiss on the forehead. You smiled, turning a bit red as you crossed your arms over your chest and watched as he kneeled to help with your pajama pants.

He untied the little ribbon at your waist, looking up at you once more to make sure this was okay. Swallowing thickly, you nodded again, and he began to shimmy your pants down.

“Just hold onto my shoulders, sweet thing, I’ve got you.”

Had you been any stronger, you might have refused, still nervous to reveal yourself to him. But you knew your sense of balance wasn't to be trusted. Timidly, you uncrossed your arms and grabbed his shoulders. Your legs wobbled a bit as you stepped out of your pants, but Roger held you steady. After a few deep breaths, he did the same with your underwear. He couldn’t help but stare as you blushed down to your tummy, looking at the ceiling to avoid his eyes.

With your gaze averted, you missed his reaction, but Roger was stunned. As he looked up at you from where he kneeled on the floor, he couldn’t help but moan softly simply at the sight of you. Your warmth, your gorgeous curves, all your little freckles and stretch marks. He wanted to kiss you all over, every little mark a target for his lips. His eyes roamed over your soft figure, tinged pink with your bashfulness, and he felt his heart flutter. You trusted him with all of you, you were willing to expose yourself to him, even now when you felt infinitely more vulnerable and insecure than normal. You were letting him take care of you. Your grip on his shoulders tightened slightly, briefly, as if to check if he was alright. As if to ask if he thought you were alright. Christ. He was in love.

Humming quietly and beaming, he moved forward slightly to press a gentle kiss right below your belly button. You gasped slightly at the touch, finally making eye contact with him as he leaned his chin against your soft tummy, hands still resting on your hips.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that? Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your blush deepened, and you smiled softly, not knowing what to say. Normally, you would redirect the comment or simply deny it, but when you saw his starry eyes, when you saw how genuinely in awe he was, you couldn’t. You settled on a bashful thank you, and he squeezed your sides in response as he stood back up. You couldn’t help but squeal quietly in surprise, and his tiny smirk made your knees weaken, but you saw the gentleness in his eyes and knew it was a gesture of comfort.

“Alright, love, now you just give me your hands, and I’ll help you in, okay?”

You smiled, nodded, and did as you were told. Roger’s hands enveloped yours as he held them a bit over your head and helped you step carefully into the tub. You sighed immediately, the warm water feeling like heaven on earth. You couldn’t help the small moan that escaped you as you sunk down and settled in. Roger smiled softly, watching the bubbles surround you. Your smile was the best thing he’d seen all week, and as he sat down on the edge of the tub beside you, he realized that he never felt more at home than by your side.

Once more, Roger moved to take his glasses off, and once more, you whined in protest. However, this time, he was not to be swayed.

“I don’t wanna get them all soapy, love,” he chuckled quietly as he placed them carefully on the little shelf on the opposite wall. You pouted playfully, and he laughed loudly. “I promise they’ll make an appearance some other time. You can hold me to that.”

You sighed in faux defeat and hung your head low, trying to evoke some sort of pity from your boyfriend. All you drew out of him was a bright grin, but you couldn’t complain, and you were quickly smiling back.

Roger’s already dopey smile widened as your hand popped out from amongst the suds and took his. Another laugh escaped him before he planted a soapy kiss on your palm, knowing he’d get to hear your lovely, albeit slightly congested, giggle again. And sure enough, your raspy laugh immediately rang through the bathroom. His heart fluttered at the sound, and he gave you a wet kiss on the forehead as he went back to the sitting room to grab a pillow.

Upon his return, he threw the cushion on the floor beside the tub and proceeded to kneel on it. Your brows knit in concern.

“Won’t,” you paused to cough slightly, sending bubbles in every direction, “won’t your knees get sore?”

He smiled softly, shaking his head in reassurance. “I’ll be fine, lovely, you just direct me to your favorite shampoo.”

With another giggle, you pointed to a bottle, and with a salute, he took it. Before going any further though, he pulled his jumper and undershirt off and tossed them out the bathroom door into your hallway. He saw the way your eyes darkened at his bare chest and tried to cover up his pink cheeks with an eye roll.

“Alright, easy tiger, I just don’t want my clothes all wet, yeah? Plus, now we’re a bit more even!”

You smiled sheepishly and raised your hands in mock offense, flinging some bubbles out of the tub once more, but you just couldn’t look away. You nearly had to bite back a groan. His soft middle was definitely the eighth wonder of the world. You’d seen him shirtless a few times now, privately at least, but he always took your breath away. When you met him, so long ago, you’d expected him to be a twig of a man—the typical toned rockstar. But the first time you saw him drum with his shirt off at a concert, with his soft hips and pudgy chest on display, you were left completely speechless. Obviously he had muscles, he had a strength that was evident in every beat of his drum, but there was a softness about him that made you melt, and looking at him now reaffirmed every one of those feelings. your eyes trailed down his frame, and you felt a heat rising to your cheeks. The way his little tummy poked over his jeans - it made you downright feral.

Roger chuckled bashfully once more as he watched your eyes slowly move down his body, and he tried to appear composed as he squeezed a sizable amount of shampoo onto his palm. He gently directed you to sit up a bit, and you complied, giving him access to your hair.

The second his hands were on you, you let out a low, rumbly groan. He massaged the shampoo in gently, smiling as he felt you lean into his touch.

“That’s right,” he murmured, “just relax those muscles for me.”

Moans and quiet whines spilled from your mouth as you fought tears from spilling from your eyes. You were absolutely lost in how good it felt to be touched. You pushed against his hands, urging him to never ever stop please, and you had to suppress a sob when he eventually pulled away.

He chuckled quietly and helped you sit up a bit before grabbing the cup you kept on the edge of the tub. He softly instructed you to tilt your head back slightly, and with one hand at your hairline to keep the water from running into your eyes, he rinsed your shampoo out.

You smiled, blissed out, as the warm water ran down your back. Roger watched amusedly as you swayed slightly, doing your best to stay upright. His warm hands kept you steady though, and eventually your hair was soap free. Leaning back again, you looked up at your boyfriend with a sleepy smile as he found your body wash. He held it up for you to see.

“‘S this alright?”

You nodded, a bit more awake now at the prospect of his hands all over you. Once he’d lathered it up nicely, he beckoned you forward, and after a brief moment of apprehension, you complied. Your hesitation did not go unnoticed however, and he was quick to sit back a bit.

“Hey,” his voice was quiet and gentle, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, love. You can get out and dry off now, and we can just watch something on the telly.”

You were quick to shake your head.

“No!! No no ‘s okay! I’m just… nervous is all. I’m okay.”

“Nervous?”

You hoped he’d attribute your red color to the heat of the water.

“You’ve… we’ve never…” you paused to collect yourself, “You’ve felt me up through my clothes before, but not… without them, y’know? And it’s not that I don’t trust you!! It’s just new. I trust you, but it’s new.” Roger opened his mouth to respond, but you continued. “And I know you’ve already seen me, so it feels even sillier to worry, but what if... what if you don’t like the way I feel? Like it’s not what you expected or... or I don’t even know. The point is, it’s okay, I just worry a lot.”

His face softened as your words registered properly. You seemed to have taken quite an interest in the bubbles floating around your belly. He ducked down a bit, getting level with you so you’d meet his eyes.

“I know this isn’t quite how we planned things,” he said as you huffed a quiet laugh, “I’d honestly hoped to do something a bit more romantic, but I really will take any chance I get to look after you, love. You’ve got nothing to worry about either! You’re bloody gorgeous, like, I mean, fuck, and I really am very excited to touch you. I have no doubt,” he paused as you raised your eyebrows at him, blushing, “no doubt you will feel fantastic.”

You moved to shush him, still trying to stifle a giggle, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Even ill and scruffy and covered in vanilla soap. You’re perfect, Y/N, I’m serious.” He paused a moment, thinking, before adding, “Well, the vanilla is very nice, but you still get my meaning.”

You couldn’t help but really laugh at that, and you leaned your head on the side of the tub to look up at your boyfriend. He smiled down at you, a faint blush on his cheeks, and leaned over to kiss your forehead.

“I really promise, love. I firmly believe you hung the moon, and there’s not much you could do to change my mind.”

Your smile mirrored his as he grabbed the body wash and gently brought you towards him. Any and all of your worries washed away with the last few days the second his hands were on you.

He washed your arms first, running his warm hands over your smooth skin and whispering sweet things. His touch was firm but gentle, only barely keeping you grounded in reality. You couldn’t help the small whines that fell from your lips. It just felt so good.

You didn’t think anything could feel better than Roger massaging your tender arm muscles, but that was nothing compared to the feeling of him gently lathering your breasts and tummy with soap. His touch had been overwhelmingly heavenly all evening, but this was the icing on the cake. His big hands kneaded your breasts gently, and he laughed softly in delight as your lewd moans filled the bathroom. His touch was cool on your feverish chest, and you found yourself relaxing like never before. He moved so that his hands were on your soft hips, and after giving them a squeeze, he began massaging up and down your sides. You giggled softly at the ticklish sensation, and he grinned.

“There’s my girl, that feels good, yeah?”

All you could do was whimper in response, a dopey grin on your face. Roger continued his gentle massage and watched your euphoric expression fondly.

“Mm…” he smirked softly, “I could say the same.”

He couldn’t lie, it was great to touch you, fantastic even. You were just as soft and grabbable as you looked, and he really... god he could spend the rest of his life doing this. But really nothing compared to the knowledge that he was making you feel better. He still felt awful for not having been with you until today, but he was over the moon that he was a comfort.

Truth be told, when the boys had started giving him tips, he had worried that he wasn’t prepared to take care of you. The others had been genuinely trying to help, but they had mostly just succeeded in making him worry. Most of their suggestions were things he hadn’t even thought of. But the second he walked in your door and saw you asleep on the couch, he knew he would be just fine.

After helping you wash away the layer of bubbles coating your torso, Roger pulled the drain and helped you stand. He pressed a quick, fond kiss to your forehead before turning around and grabbing a towel for you. Draping it over his shoulder, he took your hands once more and helped you from the tub. You stood still for him as he dried you off as much as he could, and then you were gingerly wrapped up and led to your bedroom.

You sat on your bed, watching as your boyfriend, still shirtless, rummaged through your drawers to find some suitable pjs. He tossed some underwear at you first, and you pulled them on as you asked if he wanted some help.

“No!! No, no don’t tell me, I’ll find them.”

You sat down on your bed, covering yourself with your arms, and rolled your eyes fondly at his boyish delight. He went through your dresser like a hurricane, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his triumphant aha ha!! when he found the right drawer. He combed through your clothes for a minute or so before something caught his eye.

“Hang on...” Roger cocked his head to the side as he pulled out a large, soft shirt from one of Queen’s earliest tours. “Is this mine?” He peered back at you over his shoulder and laughed as you nodded, embarrassed. It wasn’t your fault, he’d let you wear it one night at his place after the two of you had gotten swept up in a rainstorm, and you’d just worn it home the next morning.

“You can have it back, I keep forgetting to tell you I have it.”

“And miss seeing you wear it again? Yeah, as if.”

You scoffed, but he could see you were blushing and considered that a victory.

“It’s comfy,” you mumbled, not meeting his eyes. “And it smells like you.”

His expression softened, going from teasing to flustered in two seconds flat.

“Well then,” he beamed, pulling out some soft pajama bottoms and moving back to you, “you can definitely keep it.” Your heart fluttered at his sweet grin and his pink cheeks. You loved making him blush, knowing that it was usually the other way around. His smile widened at your soft expression, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Alright, come on, silly thing, you know the drill. Arms up!”

You blushed, uncovering yourself and lifting your arms. Roger’s adoring smirk at seeing your breasts once more did not escape your notice, but you just shut your eyes, too flustered to say anything. You felt him pull your shirt down over your arms, and once your head was out, you pulled the rest of it down yourself.

“Y’know I could do this on my own,” you smiled as he crouched to help with your pants. He looked up at you in mock offense, putting a hand over his chest.

“As if I’d let you,” he scoffed, pressing a kiss to your knee before pulling your bottoms over it. He helped you stand, so he could pull them up the rest of the way, and then sat you back down, grabbing your towel. You expected him to take it back to the bathroom, but he surprised you, settling down with you on the bed. You were about to ask what he was doing when he pulled you into his lap and began gently towel drying your hair.

You melted in an instant, sighing happily as Roger methodically went from the roots to the tips, getting all the water out. You moaned a little, leaning into his hands as he massaged your scalp, and you felt tears prick your eyes at the sheer intimacy of the action and the affection in his touch. He was humming softly as he went, a tune you recognized but couldn’t place. You found yourself having trouble staying upright, his soft voice lulling you to sleep almost instantly. It was after he steadied you for the third time that he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Doing alright, darling?”

You hummed softly, a sleepy smile gracing your features, and Roger chuckled, putting the towel aside and pulling you close.

“Getting a bit tired?”

You nuzzled your face into his neck, nodding ever so slightly, and he wrapped his arms around you. He still hadn’t put his shirt back on, and his shoulder was cool and comfortable against your still-feverish skin. He rubbed your back sweetly, letting you drape yourself over him, and heard you mumble something into his shoulder.

“What was that?”

You giggled sleepily and turned your head so you weren’t muffled.

“Been tired all week.”

He chuckled softly, murmuring a quiet I know, dove, and kissed your temple. His grin widened even more as you snuggled further into him, as if you wanted to somehow get even closer, and he gave you a gentle squeeze. Your sigh of relief was music to his ears.

“Ready for bed, little love?”

Your answer came as a little hum from where you were snuggled against him. The vibration tickled his sweet spot slightly, and he giggled, reflexively tilting his head as if to cut off access to his neck, but all he succeeded in doing was leaning his head on yours. He felt you smile, and another laugh rose up in his chest.

“I’m guessing that was a ‘yes.’”

You lifted your head up, a dorky smile gracing your features as you spoke to an imaginary audience.

“Wow, show the man what he’s won.”

He laughed again, squeezing you tight.

“Cheeky.”

Smiling still, he helped you off his lap and lifted your covers, so you could crawl under them. After pulling your comforter up to your chin and making a big show of tucking you in, he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and started to walk away. You caught his wrist.

“Stay. Please,” you whimpered. You’d missed him so much.

“No, hey, it’s okay, love,” he chuckled softly, moving closer once more, “I’m just grabbing my shirt! I’m not leaving you.”

Your cheeks reddened at his reassurance, embarrassed that you automatically assumed he would leave you. Mumbling an apology, you buried yourself in the covers once more, barely peeking up at him as he looked on, absolutely endeared.

“‘S perfectly alright,” he grinned, kissing your forehead, “just wanted to make sure you knew. I’m not planning on leaving until you’re well, darling.”

You smiled bashfully but opened your mouth to protest, to tell him that you weren’t gonna hold him hostage, but he was already out the door.

When Roger returned, though only a few minutes had passed, you were nearly asleep. You fought to keep your eyes open, sleepily grinning at him as he moved about your room quietly, turning your lights off and drawing the curtains. He hadn’t gotten his shirt as he said he would, and your brows furrowed slightly.

“Where’s… where’s your shirt?”

He huffed a quiet laugh as you realized he wasn’t wearing his jeans anymore either, and you grew even more confused. He began climbing in bed beside you.

“Put it in the wash, along with my trousers,” he pulled the covers up around him, “which I’m sure you noticed.”

A small blush rose to your face, but he wasn’t wrong, and he laughed as he pulled you in, so you were once again snuggled into his bare chest. He heard you sigh contentedly and rested his chin on the top of your head, grinning. His hand moved lazily up and down your back as you relaxed in his arms, clinging to him like your life depended on it. The quiet ticking of the clock on your wall was almost hypnotic, lulling Roger to sleep almost immediately. His heart had a similar effect on you, the sound of it beating enveloping you. Your ear pressed against his chest, your body moving along with his breathing.

Roger was almost completely out when he heard, or rather felt, you murmur something against his bare skin.

“Hm?” He cleared his throat. “What’d you say?”

He moved to where your face wasn’t pressed into him, laughing softly at how this seemed to be a common theme tonight, and propped himself up on his elbow. He looked down at you fondly, his sleepy love. You smiled, eyes opening slowly.

“Thank you,” you sounded far away, already halfway dreaming, “for… for looking after me.”

Roger’s heart fluttered, and he felt a breathless laugh bubble up in his stomach.

“God… you precious thing,” he brushed some hair out of your face, softening even further somehow, “‘was my pleasure. Love lookin’ after you, you know that.”

Your sleepy giggle made Roger’s heart do somersaults, cartwheels, a whole gymnastics routine.

“Yeah, I know.”

It was silent for a few moments as you gazed at each other, taking in your favorite sights. The slope of his sweet nose, the way you seemed to glow in the moonlight that barely shone through your sheer bedroom curtains, his incredible eyelashes, the freckles that dotted your nose and around your eyes, the way his smile could brighten even your dark bedroom. You heard him sigh quietly, still smiling, before he leaned down and kissed your forehead then the tip of your nose.

“Come on, love. Let’s get some rest now, yeah?”

You nodded, eyes half closed, and Roger hummed, continuing down your face, kissing you on each cheek, and then your chin. A sleepy giggle escaped you as you felt his lips trail down your neck, tickling you slightly. You murmured his name, your eyes falling shut, and you felt him smile against your skin. Your head involuntarily tilted back, pressing against the pillow to allow him more room to work. Chaste kisses fluttered over your collarbones as he worked his way down your body, and you squirmed slightly at the heavenly feeling, hoarsely and sleepily moaning his name once more.

“Hey, hey,” he hushed you quietly, moving back up and cupping your cheek with one hand as he kept himself propped up with the other. “You’re okay, love, I’ve got you. Sleep, angel, sleep for me.”

All you could do was whine as he continued, pulling your shirt up slightly so he could pepper your tummy with light kisses. His hands held onto your soft hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles into your sides.

“C’mon, honey, relax,” he murmured, his warm breath fanning out over your exposed skin. You took a deep, albeit shaky breath and finally let yourself melt into his touch. He smiled against your hip bone, giving your sides another gentle squeeze. “That’s it,” he whispered, “there’s my sweet girl.”

As Roger kissed his way back up one of your arms, you felt yourself begin to drop off, his soft pecks and sweet touches sending you to sleep in record time. Your last thought before falling completely came in the form of a slurred mumble.

“L...love you.”

Roger smiled softly as he pressed his lips to the soft skin on the inside of your elbow. He looked up at you, to meet your eyes, but you were out.

With a quiet chuckle, he moved back up next to you and pulled you into his arms. Almost instinctively, you cuddled into his chest, getting as close as you could, even in your sleep. Learning down and pressing a kiss into your hair, he sighed softly.

“I love you too, baby.”

He felt you relax even further into him as a small, happy sigh escaped you, and his eyes began to fall shut. He tried to stay awake for just a few moments longer, just so he could stay in this moment for a few seconds more, so he could stay with you.

He watched in sleepy awe as you snored softly, already out cold. Your chest rose and fell with each breath, pressing against him with every inhale and drawing back with each exhale. In his exhaustion, he found himself smiling every time your breath forced you up against him and missing your touch whenever your exhalation pulled you away ever so slightly. Your arms remained tight around him, making sure he stayed put, as if he had any other plans. Gently running his fingers through your still-damp hair, he felt his heart flutter.

“Can’t believe you’re mine.”

With a final featherlight kiss to your forehead, he let his eyes shut. He slowly ran his thumb up and down your arm, smiling slightly just at how soft you are. How perfect you are to him. He let your warm embrace, along with your soft, congested snores, pull him gently to sleep, just as his kisses had done to you, and as he slowly fell, his last thoughts were of how wonderful it was going to be to wake up with you in the morning.

#oh my god I did it #ohhhh my god I did it #anyway this is my magnum opus and I'm really soft #I just like roger a lot #I hope you like it :D #I hope I wrote roger well #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #queen #queen fic #literally what all am I supposed to tag this #roger taylor #lmk what y'all think about this!! I love hearing from you :D #rowan if u see this i love you #ur asleep rn but when you wake up!!!! I love you #enjoy my magnificent octopus

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polpoka · 3 years

Text

Neighbor Au

Characters- Kim Rok Soo, Alberu Crossman

Ratings- K+

Shippings- Caleberu

Type- (Fluff)

Part 2

“It wasn’t bad walking down using the stairs sometimes,” Alberu grumbled.

He played his favorite playlist on his phone and put his earphones in his ears one by one as he took a short walk.

The early morning highlighted the stairway which gave an extraordinary sparkling glow. It was a pretty and refreshingly cool morning which had a slight tint of light purple. He could see the amber outline of the sun over the buildings from where he stood, the rays of the sun hit his eyes, causing him to blink at the sight.

‘It really isn’t all that bad.’ He reconsidered waking up early once in a while, gradually he started losing himself in the scenery, he tripped on his shoes and fell down the stairs, his earphones falling out of his ears violently.

“Never mind. I am never doing this again.” he muttered before he heard the sound of something playing in the background.

It was….a saxophone? Alberu couldn’t register the sound he just heard and asked himself once again.

‘Was that a saxophone? In the morning? At 9:00 a.m.? Is the person crazy?’

He peeked over the window to see an astonishing sight.

It was his neighbor who was in the park nearby, and it was him who was playing that tune, which was extremely good but Alberu couldn’t admit that. “Huh. It was indeed a crazy person.” He thought to himself before collecting his thoughts,

“Well, that's unexpected, it doesn’t really fit his image. He looks more like an insensitive prick most of the time rather than someone who’d know how to play an instrument.” Remembering last night he corrected himself, “Should’ve known better than to think of that with what he did for me last night.” He stopped his train of thought and helped himself up using the ledge near the casement. He then slowly opened it, slightly looking over the side of the window.

He sighed while picking his earphones from the tiled marble floor as he staggered while regaining his balance. He continued walking, this time paying attention to the path without getting distracted.

On reaching the end of the stairwell, he caught a glance of a kiosk. It was selling some hot tteokbokki. Even though he was a son of a rich family, he used to sneak out a lot to escape his stepmother’s abuse, so he was more or less used to eating street food.

He got some for himself before walking off to the park, the saxophone still played in the background, which for some reason helped him completely immerse himself in his thoughts.

He got a call just when he had taken his seat on a bench. “Yes Aunt Tasha?” It was his maternal aunt and the only person that Alberu could truly think of as family.

“Good morning,” There was a short pause, “Didn’t think that you would be awake around this time.”

“What a coincidence. Me neither.”

He chuckled rather bitterly.

“Was it because of those things?”

His aunt sounded genuinely worried.

Alberu didn’t want her to worry about him. It wasn’t needed, after all, it would be burdensome.

“No, it was just that I slept earlier last night.”

Alberu could lie easily, since he had experience. He had been doing it for a long time.

“If you say so.” Tasha paused for some time, a bit longer than the previous one,”Where are you?” she questioned.

“A park. Why?” Alberu answered.

“I just heard a saxophone...?” Tasha sounded a bit confused as to why someone was playing a saxophone in the park, truthfully Alberu was too. “Is someone….playing a saxophone…. in the morning?” She struggled to comprehend such strange things that were happening in her nephew’s neighbourhood. Perhaps, it was because her nephew was also abnormal.

“Yes.” Alberu admitted.

“Wow.” her eyes widened, they weren’t in front of each other but both Alberu and Tasha had known each other for a long time. So, they could tell by the tone, well at least, one of them could.

“I know right.” He nodded,

“By the way, we are still meeting tomorrow, right?”

“Definitely.”

“Great. I need to discuss that in person.”

He could feel the urgency in her voice. It was indeed serious. Yet he felt that his aunt didn’t need to purposely send her people for this matter. It didn’t have to concern her, but she still went this far. His aunt could have just said a few kind words, yet she still concerns herself with the likes of him.

‘Filthy dog- ’ he heard a whisper but couldn’t complete that thought, he felt his head go dizzy and felt chills all over his body. This one, he was absolutely sure that it was not because of the cold.

Alberu stiffened, yet did not drop the tone of his voice.

“I’m looking forward to it. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye. Don’t hesitate to call me if you’re having nightmares.”

“I will.” Alberu chuckled, “Bye.”

Again, another lie.

Alberu hung up, he was trying hard to distract himself from his earlier thoughts by replacing it with the meeting tomorrow.

‘So, that matter will be discussed tomorrow, What else? Oh yeah, and the stocks too.’

He recollected the work that he had planned to do in the upcoming week, he sighed again.

He put a piece of tteokbokki in his mouth, allowing the hot and spicy flavour to fill his entire mouth. He realized that it was still hot, seconds after he exhaled quickly, trying to let some of the heat out.

It was a cold morning. The spice warmed him up. He finished the entire box rather quickly.

“This feels exhilarating….” He could feel the cool breeze on his face, the icy cold air, the warmth inside of his mouth and also the overwhelming exhaustion that this week had left him. For some time he tried his best to stay awake, but his eyes were beginning to droop.He could feel a gentle whirr inside him which slowly but completely took over his mind, leaving him asleep on the bench, all nuzzled up in an olive green puffer jacket and some charcoal coloured loose track pants which he didn’t care much about. They seemed just right on him.

He hoped that everyday would be like this. But he knew that this could never happen. It was only common sense.

***

“You alive?”

Alberu was dizzy, too dizzy in fact. In his defense, he may have gotten a bit confused, and he may have reacted as a defense mechanism.

Hearing those words, Alberu’s previously closed eyes flew open, those words he’d heard before, he detested those words to his core, he unconsciously screamed. His hands covered his face before leaving a deep scratch on the innocent owner of the voice and balled into fists, as if something could harm the sturdily built man. The gravelly voice brought about memories. Some he would rather keep buried deep in him.

“WHY ARE YOU HERE???” his tone was higher and he was agitated by the other, despite him not recognizing the other’s face at all

Alberu was alarmed and afraid, incredibly so. Kim Rok Soo had no idea, had no idea what was the trigger but he was also a man with a lot of trauma so he did recognize what the brunette was going through. He was having a panic attack.

The black haired man looked at the other unsurprised only on the surface. He noticed many things. He could see the young man had a quite noticeable frown, not to mention the cold sweat running down his forehead. Kim Rok Soo could feel the raspy breaths. The man looked….defensive. Kim Rok Soo himself had been like that, that was until he met his team. He remembered the way his hyung had tackled this situation. He remembered the steps. All of them. He ignored the blood and proceeded to sit down and speak in a lower tone, trying to relax the other; he luckily had experience dealing with things like this.

Alberu did want to relax, but his body wouldn’t let him. ‘I was supposed to be away from that place, away! Just sleeping on my bed and not hearing this shit, not this voice, I even made extra sure not to. I live alone, I just don't want to hear him. Not that voice. I just wanted to wake up to an empty apartment, not that-”

“Look at me. Focus.” The same low voice spoke. The tone was almost a whisper which only the man that was right next to him heard.

Alberu moved his head to face him, slowly relaxing, it was like he had been hypnotized. He mumbled some unintelligible words that Kim Rok Soo couldn't hear much of what he said except for the sentence, "Don't hurt me, please." He was begging.

Rok Soo noted that as he looked at the other's eyes and spoke slowly,

“Deep breaths.”

Alberu thought the voice was cool, like the cold, refreshing water that usually relaxes his mind and his breathing stabilized. He felt a slap on his back which reeled him back from the unpleasant thoughts to the cold, but comforting reality.

Alberu's eyes slowly became a little less alarmed, he coughed violently, and started to breathe heavily,

“Insane bastard?” He asked, recognizing the face now that his mind was a bit more stable, but his voice was still raspy, he didn’t realize that his hand was being held by the other.

“What?” Kim Rok Soo’s stoic face twisted into a frown.

“Why-why did you wake me up?” He asked, completely ignoring the insult he had just called this man, who he believed to be older to him. His words sounded more like a croak. He had sweat dripping down his forehead on a cold day, it was as if he had a terrible dream, maybe it was just that, a bad dream.

Kim Rok Soo thought about something, ‘why?’

Kim Rok Soo had no particular reason for waking the young man up, or even patting his head yet…?

Why did he do so?

Why did it matter to him whether this young man catches a cold?

He sighed at his actions, and simply spoke a few words knowing that the other was really anxious right now,

“No reason.”

He squeezed the other’s hand tightly before letting it go and getting up from the bench, only for it be held by the other almost immediately,

“Ummm…Could you keep it like that for some time?” The voice was weak and croaky.

Kim Rok Soo was terribly weak against these kinds of things.

He couldn’t just leave him, helpless. Somehow, even though he was usually appalled by the very thought of extended skin contact, but, with this man he didn’t seem to mind.

Kim Rok Soo sat back down on the bench, this time a little farther than usual. Kim Rok Soo felt something though, was it movement, perhaps? He peeked over his shoulder and saw the only slightly shorter man creep up to him, and Kim Rok Soo just let Alberu gradually make himself more comfortable.

Something struck Kim Rok Soo at that exact moment. He hadn’t asked this strange neighbour of his name. He leaned back, letting his slightly long hair drape over the bench,

“Hey,”

“Yeah,” as the now calm person replied, Kim Rok Soo quietly noted another thing about this person. He was used to having these kinds of attacks, probably on a regular basis, and somehow that fact pricked him. Nevertheless, he ignored the weird feeling and spoke in a low voice, so as to not scare the younger man.

“I’ve been wondering for a while. What’s your name and how old are you?”

The other man chuckled and grinned so brightly, you wouldn’t believe that the incident that just took place earlier.Kim Rok Soo could tell that it was fake.

“And here I thought my name was something you might’ve seen bannered across several television screens, I’m Alberu Crossman. I’m 25 years old. How about you, ahjussi?”

Kim Rok Soo was a bit shocked, ‘did I really look that old that a person 5 years younger than me would call me ahjussi? I didn’t mind it much, I was rather happy that he was being referred to at all. What? Wait, wait, repeat that thought again slower this time, why was I happy to be talked to. Normally, it didn’t bother me, so why? Was this person special? Was he that special in the first place?’ With all these questions he only gave what the younger man had wanted to know,

“I’m Kim Rok Soo and I'm 30 years old. Nice to meet you, Alberu.”

‘This feels like a marriage meeting,’ Alberu laughed a bit at the familiar feeling, ‘It’s good that there’s no rejection this time though.’

“Ah.” Alberu realized,

“Then should I call you hyung, Kim Rok Soo hyung?”

Kim Rok Soo’s face was stoic, a little flushed but those were just the results of a cold morning, that’s what Alberu thought.

Kim Rok Soo smiled slightly,

“Sure, why not.”

Alberu asked the second most asked question in interviews, he didn’t know what else to ask this person. To him, this stranger was one of the two people who actually cared enough to help him when he was having his attacks. Also he was just a neighbour, just a stranger who he had met once, yet this person held great importance to him now. He decided that in a second,

“Hyung, have you already met your soulmate?”

Kim Rok Soo scoffed.

The soulmate marks in this world were worked rather strangely at times, sometimes they appeared at birth, sometimes it didn’t appear until the person was as old as fifty and sometimes it didn’t appear at all. It was an indication that you had met your soulmate. Sometimes they had weird shapes, Kim Rok Soo knew a couple who had a trident as their mark. The marks appeared on the exact part of each partner. Mostly it was on their arms but it varied from person to person. Some were detailed and some just a blob. People said that soulmate symbols were a sign that the two in the relationship had been lovers in their past life.

Kim Rok Soo had never seen his own, he never felt the need to. His life went on as it did, and it went on well. He had no qualms with having no mark, nor did he have any with having a mark.

“Nope.” He said, “What about you, youngster?”

‘Y-youngster?? Somehow that pisses me off.’ Alberu hadn't seen his mark either. He sometimes wondered whether it even existed in the first place. “Never.”

‘What a coincidence.’ They both thought, before Kim Rok Soo asked the other man,

“Are you usually this defenseless?”

Alberu frowned,

“Nope, with you it’s odd. I feel like I’ve met you before.”

Kim Rok Soo had to leave soon though, he had a show booked at 9 and he had just been practicing his instrument. He noticed that Alberu had calmed down and turned over to look at the other man,

Kim Rok Soo also felt the same way, somehow he felt that in front of this person, he could be himself and people were rather rare. He could count them on one hand. Kim Rok Soo nodded,

“It is rather nostalgic.”

“Um, I need to go soon. Shall I walk you home?”

Alberu was still a bit drowsy, so he easily accepted it without any complaints.

Kim Rok Soo got up and stretched out his gloved hand to the young man who could now see the man completely. Kim Rok Soo was wearing a black turtleneck and a royal blue jacket on top of it, fitting his tall body neatly.

Alberu took the other’s hand weakly, and Kim Rok Soo gently pulled him up from the bench, giving Alberu an unexpected jerk. He lowered his head in reflex, and landed right in Kim Rok Soo’s chest.

Kim Rok Soo waved off the action, even though he was panicking quite a bit inside.

‘Ah.’

“I-I’m sorry, I’m still a bit out of it, it seems. Haha” he chuckled nervously, quickly excusing himself.

“Mm. Then, let’s go.”

Alberu nodded, smiling a bit now, this time Kim Rok Soo could tell, ‘It wasn’t fake.’

“Sure.”

It couldn’t be that Kim Rok Soo, a man that he barely knew would be his soulmate. It was unimaginable. Simply incredulous.

Kim Rok Soo started walking towards the elevator, his gloved hand still holding Alberu’s.

Alberu didn’t mind, not one bit. Which was odd, because he could never bear anyone touching him, not even his aunt, yet on the numerous occasions he could toss this man’s hand aside, he didn’t budge. This person felt really special. Why? He didn’t know, he did want to find out. He needed to. He thought about a possibility, but quickly dismissed it.

(If only that was true, if only, Alberu.)

They reached the elevator and Kim Rok Soo had still not let go of Alberu’s hand. Kim Rok Soo clicked the button, and entered the lift. The lift wasn’t small, but the both were still standing in one corner. Alberu finally pointed out the obvious fact,

“Um...Excuse me, hyung, you’re still holding my hand.”

Alberu was actually glad that the other person wasn’t talking about the breakdown he had earlier. It was refreshing to not be interrogated for a change.

Kim Rok Soo seemed like he hadn’t even noticed the fact that he was holding Alberu’s hand until Alberu told him.

“Ah.” He let go of Alberu’s hand and the both fingers that were intertwined now hung in the air.

Even though the two were standing right next to each other, neither of them tried to initiate a conversation the entire ride. It was silent but it was comfortable. Not talking was also good.

Ding!

As soon as they heard the sound,they both walked out of the elevator and to the hallway. They both recollected the events that took place that night and chuckled a bit. They both walked through the corridor and in front of their own apartments.

Only then did it dawn over Alberu, that he’d forgotten another thing in his morning daze.

Alberu forgot his own keys.

#tcf #trash of the count's family #alberu #alberu crossman #kim rok soo #caleberu

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generalfoolish · 3 years

Text

We Go Together

General Dameron!AU

Chapter 1: A Welcome Party of One | Chapter 2

Rating: General for now! It gets more spicy later, and I’ll update accordingly.

Summary: OC character starts flying with the resistance, and happens to meet General Poe Dameron. Eventually, they'll do more than just talk and badly flirt.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my fic from AO3, and I wanted to add it to my master list. It’s a work in progress! Also, we deviate a bit from the actual story of the sequels, but I try to stay pretty close to the lore of the SW universe.

The explosion burned too bright against Darial’s eyes. The darkness of space enveloped the blinding whites, and glanced sharply against her radiation shield. A red laser shooting from the wreckage jerked her back to life; and in seconds she was maneuvering away from the burning ship behind her.

Dary heard the crackling in her ear piece, and she breathed deeply to steady herself. The casualties would be many. They were increasing ten-fold after each mission. This re-con had gone sideways, fast. She cursed under her breath and banked a hard left against a Tie Fighter shooting near her rear. Her eyes followed the green beams coming from her own X-wing, and smiled when they found their mark.

“Green Two!” The static garbled the words, but she made her call name out.

“Green Two responding,” She grimaced at her own croaky voice. She needed water, and badly.

“Green Two, disengage. Pulling back.” The words were more chewed up this time, her commander getting lost in the static.

“Pulling back, Green Leader.”

“Settle for Base.”

“Base bound, Green Two off.” She eased off the thrusters and checked the nav. Deftly, she punched in the coordinates for Ajan Kloss, and rolled her neck as hyperspace engaged.

She had enough time to glance around and see her team doing the same, before she was flung into the dazzling rush of white jets of light. She could never get over hyperspace. The urge to jerk out of the tunnel, she realized dimly, had never gone away either. Dary knew that the only reason she preferred hyper was that space was too inky black for her comfort. In her years as a pilot, she had never found comfort amongst the stars. She was always unsettled in the darkness, and felt uneasy in the absence of any celestial bodies.

“Something to keep my mind off the dead, at least.” She murmured to herself. In the brightly lit cockpit, there was nowhere to hide those dark thoughts. Her orange jumpsuit glowed, nearly reflective, as if to prove her point.

The nav system started beeping, and gave her the respite she needed to ignore the deep seated survivor’s guilt building in her stomach. She punched a few buttons, flicked a few switches, and dropped out of hyperspace. She found herself laughing, and wished flying was as easy as dropping out of hyper. She nosed her X towards the green moon.

Dary hadn’t had the opportunity to see Ajan Kloss yet, and she had heard it was a beautiful moon. The landscape rushing up to greet her after her descent into the atmosphere was a welcome sight. The rumors weren’t true, though. They left too much unsaid. The whispers of a jungle had missed the devastation of how mesmerizing the moon was. It was so alive, that Dary felt a sob stick in her chest. She shook her head slightly, and focused on the landing pattern.

“Green Two, requesting landing.” She breathed into her mic; still moved by the beauty of the greenery around her. A welcome sight after days of barren space.

“Green Two, welcome home. Head to bay 4.” The gruff voice told her. She was glad to hear Basic in a friendly tone, and never happier to get rid of the undertone of urgency or panic. She docked down in Bay 4, and noted that it looked like every other bay in the resistance, before switching her engines off.

The astromech popped the radiation shield for her, and she pulled her helmet off.

“Thanks R6.” Dary smiled warmly at her droid. He beeped in response. She left him for now, and knew he was in good hands. The Resistance loved their droids, and pilots doubly so. She had left her helmet in the cockpit, and climbed down the ladders a mechanic had pushed, over after she had touched down. The mech was nowhere to be found now, and she decided not to take it personally. She wasn’t anyone special, and the mission had been a failure to be sure. Plus, she didn’t know anyone on this moon. She rolled her eyes at herself.

“What? You expectin’ a welcome party, Dary? A full roll out?” A hardness settled in her chest, and she screwed her eyes up as she jerked the zipper of the flight suit down. She had just stepped out of the suit, focusing singularly on her muddy boots, when she heard the throat clearing cough come from behind her. She turned slowly, making a mental note to clean her shoes later. She was annoyed. She wanted to cry in the shower. She wanted to find her new quarters.

“Yes?” She was sharper than she meant to be, but she was tired.

“Yes, sir.” He said, a smirk dancing on his lips. She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t echo his request. “Because I’m Poe. General Poe Dameron.” He continued, and she realized he had expected her to know him.

“General Dameron!” She exclaimed with as much forced enthusiasm as she could muster. “What can I do for you, sir?” She asked, snapping to attention. Her flight suit still bundled around her boots. He dropped his smirk.

“You’re Green Two, right? Ardan?” His voice had lost nearly all traces of the humor from before.

“Yes, sir.” Dary answered quickly, not wanting to get into real trouble. She held his eyes for a moment, before stooping to grab her flight suit. “How can I help you, sir?” She asked genuinely, folding her suit as she talked. He smiled again, and she couldn’t help but notice he was that much more handsome for it. He was slim, but muscular beneath his loosely fitted button up. The light material really made his tanned skin glow in the bright sun.

“They tell me you saved a lot of lives doing something very dangerous and very reckless.” Her mouth fell open, and she snapped it shut with enough force to rattle her back teeth.

“Sir, I was taking calculated risks to ensure that my fellow pilots made it back in one piece.”

“You were outmanned and outgunned, why would you try to take down a Starfighter alone?”

“I reasoned that if I were successful, then it would be a great advantage for my team.”

“What if you weren’t?” She couldn’t read him, and so she tried pleading her case earnestly.

“Then I would have done everything in my power to make sure that I at least bought my team a few minutes for a retreat.” She swallowed painfully; her throat was tight and dry.

“Good work out there today, Ardan. That kind of honest fighting is how we’ll win.” He took her by the shoulder, and simply held it for a moment. It wasn’t lost on her that his palm devoured her shoulder, and engulfed her more than she thought possible. His words filled in her a sense of pride, and her heart hammered against her ribs.

“Thanks, sir.” She squeaked out, and immediately regretted how she sounded. He only smiled, and opened his other hand in a gesture. He swept his arm back, indicating she was to move that way, and somehow her brain registered the signal and started walking. Her steps felt as clumsy as a newborn banthas.

“Have you been to the base before?” He asked, his hands swinging lazily by his side. She struggled to match his long stride, although he seemed to be moving at a leisurely pace.

“No, but the view flying in was something else.” She told him, shyly moving her hair behind her ears.

“It always reminds me of Yavin.” He told her, a small smile lifting to his eyes.

“I’ve never been,” She admitted freely, “It must be lovely to be comparable to here. Is Yavin another base?” He chuckled a little, and studied her face.

“I was born on Yavin, but it does have a...rich history involving resistances. Look, not to be forward, but I was on my way to dinner. The brass has me doing some drills at an unbelievably early kriffing hour, and so I plan to turn in early. You can say no, but you’d be doing me a pretty big favor. We don’t get a lot of new faces, especially pretty faces. Whaddya say, take another risk?” He laughed, and any doubts she had were gone. If it was inappropriate, surely he wouldn’t ask.

“That sounds lovely.” She told him before she could reconsider. Her eyes trained on her boots as they walked forward. She didn’t know how her boots had gotten so dirty. There isn’t mud in space, she breathed out her nose in a sort of snort laugh, and caught Poe’s eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Something funny?” He asked, amused

“Just...well it’s dumb, but my boots are filthy. No idea how, I’ve been in space for days. No mud in the cockpit.” She told him aimlessly, the words falling out easily. She couldn’t help it; he was impossibly easy to talk to. He grinned at her, nodding along.

“Forget being clean. The first rule of the Resistance is to be as dirty as possible, but also you must always be absolutely presentable.” He laughed, pointing a finger at her in a menacing way. She liked this. She hadn’t really fit in on her last post.

“Let me stash my suit,” She managed between laughing fits. His stories were coming more freely, and the long walk to the end of the terminal was almost over. She jogged to a locker and found her code name. Green Two. Impersonal, but perfect. Especially, she grimaced, in the heat of battle. It was a precaution, just in case the First Order happened to tap the comms. She stashed her suit quickly, and turned on her heel to find Poe just waiting for her. Patiently, he was watching her. Her breath caught, and before she could let that color her face she forced her legs to close the distance between them.

“Hungry?” She groaned.

“So, what happened after you got caught?” She asked, picking up the last thread of conversation easily, as they started the last leg of the walk to the commissary.

“Well, what you need to know is how to confuse a bageraset--I escaped, of course.” He shrugged, throwing her a smirk. She could smell the stew now, and knew that it would be just edible. Her stomach growled in anticipation, though. Which earned her a shoulder nudge from her companion.

“Starving, actually. I wasn’t joking about being in space for days. All I’ve had are those dreadful ration bars.” He laughed in response.

“That won’t do. The food here isn’t as bad as some of the posts. The cook is trained, so he does alright.” He opened the right side of the double swinging doors with one arm, and gestured her in with the other. The bustle of the canteen hit her right away.

Laughing, yelling, eating, drinking, and just a general buzz of life. She normally prefered the quiet, but the energy was contagious. She turned a quick grin to Poe before ducking past him.

#poe dameron #original character #poe dameron x oc #idiots in love #Star Wars oc #star wars #sequels #eventual smut

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