#(( I spent literally ALL DAY on this PLEASE give me a like/comment/reblog! ))

[smiledotdeer]

We Meet Again...

Alastor has a baby coming soon. REALLY soon. Within the next two months or so. Taking care of a child is a LOT of work. He’s fully expecting to stay up late, wake up in the middle of the night, wake up even earlier in the morning, try to sneak in naps during the day while his son is quiet and content...all this to say he’s going to view sleep as a precious commodity for at least the next two or three years.

He also has multiple duties he’ll have to fulfill: feeding, clothing, changing, entertaining, teaching, taking him to doctor’s checkups, making sure he doesn’t stick those grubby little fingers in places they don’t belong. This is an entire person that can’t look after his own self. He will be entirely reliant on both Alastor and those he trusts to keep watch over him.

One of the biggest hurdles he knows he’ll have to face is the abundance of dirty clothes. He himself can get away with doing laundry once a week, but a child? Children are prone to making messes. It’s just what they do. That’s fine. He has nothing against it.

What he does have beef with is the fact that he knows he can’t keep handwashing everything the way he has been for his entire life (and afterlife).

So, today, after he’s eaten breakfast and tugged on his coat, Alastor goes to the one place he’d rather not visit, but knows he should anyway:

the laundromat.

Good grief. This place looks like it belongs in a hospital. Maybe it’s a twisted instance of foreshadowing.

Alastor takes a deep breath through his nose—coffee? oh, there’s a cafe upstairs. ...there’s an upstairs? interesting—before wandering further in, his shoes clicking and echoing loudly against the polished floor. They catch the attention of the only two visible people that are with him in this literal God forsaken place: two women, one looking like the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz, and the other having a literal fish bowl for a head. They’re standing side by side and chatting while waiting for their respective dryers to finish their cycles. Friends, perhaps?

Their talking stops when their eyes land on Alastor, then resumes in hushed tones, with both of them occasionally casting nervous glances his way.

Relax, ladies. He just wants to try and do his laundry by modern standards for once.

Or, at least, he does...until he stops and takes a good look at one of the machines.

“Come now! Don’t tell me you’ve been having someone else do your laundry your whole existence!”

“I did my own damn laundry using a copper tub, coal fires and a clothes mangle. My mother was even lucky enough to have a steam iron!”

“Then for goodness sake, my friend! If you already know how to do your laundry, why are you messing with this thing at all?”

“Well perhaps I will if it means avoiding being berated by myself of all people!”

That conversation took place over a year ago now...and yet he can still hear it just as clearly as if it were yesterday. He remembers very vividly how ashamed he’d felt of himself; what simpleton doesn’t know how to wash clothes according to today’s standards? He’s old-fashioned. He’s washed up.

He’s a fool.

This machine is still laughing at him. Mocking him. Reminding him of the first time he’d ever felt annoyed with Buck.

He still hates this thing.

The women breathe a sigh of relief as Alastor turns on his heel, heads upstairs, orders a plain black coffee to provide some sort of compensation for his presence, and then leaves.

[navybrat817]

Give Me One More

Pairing: Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You don't need Bucky. He's going to prove you wrong. Over and over and over...

Word Count: Over 3.7k

Warnings: DUBCON to be safe, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, masturbation, established and slightly toxic relationship, pet names, possessive behavior, family drama, betrayal, threats (not against reader), loose backstory, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a bit mean, okay?).

A/N: I spoke about prisoner!Bucky ages back and I couldn't let this go. Especially not when I'm looking at that beautiful edit by the more beautiful @nixakimbo! ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own (but thanks to @whisperlullaby for discussing this man with me!). Divider by the talented @saradika. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You pushed the curtain aside to look out the bedroom window, the clouds dark and thick in the sky. Your home used to be your safe haven, a place of comfort, and all you wanted to do now was escape from your prison of sorts. Not the kind of place your boyfriend, Bucky, spent time in. The bars that kept you in couldn't be seen by the naked eye.

“Can't stay in there all day,” Bucky said from the hall, his deep voice reminding you that you weren't alone.

You’d never be alone again.

“Yes, I can,” you called back. You had been in your bedroom for well over an hour since you snapped at him and left him alone in the living room. If staying in there meant avoiding him, you were fine with that.

You half expected him to stomp down the hall, but he only said, “You’re being a fucking brat.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks as anger flowed through you. “Leave me alone, asshole!” You shouted, feeling every bit like the brat he said you were.

You weren’t sure what set you off today. It could've been because you were still angry that Bucky used you. How long did it take for an empire to fall? In your case, six months.

Half a year ago, Bucky Barnes bumped into you at your favorite coffee shop. Literally. He was large, built like a powerhouse, but his grip that kept you from falling was so gentle. One look in his cerulean eyes and you were a goner. He easily charmed his way into your life and bed. He treated you like a princess, better than any boyfriend before, and you naively believed it was fate that brought you together.

You should’ve known it wasn't the beginning of a happy new chapter in your story. It was a clock winding down to your doom. More specifically, your father’s doom. Because Bucky wanted to destroy the man who helped land him in jail.

The White Wolf, a nickname for Bucky you recently learned about, wasn't a good man. Far from it and far from being a reformed criminal. He took it personally that your dad got him put behind bars for a short time. So he tore his life apart. Took his job away. Urged his friends to abandon or turn on him. Got him put in jail. Bucky even rubbed it in his face that he fucked his daughter. All in six months.

It would almost be impressive if you weren't the one living with the aftermath.

Had your dad known exactly who you were seeing, he may have tried to stop you.

“Asshole,” you muttered.

What Bucky didn't plan on was falling for you or so he said. You were, apparently, his chance at happiness. Because of that, he wouldn't let you go. And he expected you to just forgive him and move forward.

How could you forgive him?

He promised he’d hunt you down if you tried to leave him. You naturally tried and didn't get very far. The sick part was how much you enjoyed him chasing after you and bringing you back. After he fucked you where he found you.

As if he read your mind, he called out, “I know you're frustrated. Bet if you sit on my cock you'll feel better.”

Your cheeks flamed, your panties damp. Damn him for still arousing you with so little words. “Go fuck yourself.”

That actually wasn't a bad idea. He was right. You were frustrated and itching to get out of your own skin. Maybe if you got yourself off, you’d feel a little better. Not happy, but better.

“I don't need him,” you said.

That was what you told yourself as you stripped down and got on the bed. But as you ran your hands along your breasts, gasping as you moved one hand lower, it didn't feel right. The normal fire within you didn't burn. Didn't even a flicker. A raw ache instead outweighed the pleasure you tried to give yourself.

“Damn it,” you muttered.

You heard Bucky’s dark chuckle from the doorway and made the mistake of looking his way. You weren't sure how long he'd been standing there, but his cock was free from the confines of his pants and he lost his shirt at some point, too. He didn't attempt to hide the array of scars and tattoos that littered his torso. Ones you traced with your fingers and tongue more times than you could count. Back when you weren't a pawn in his game.

But if you really were a pawn, why did he have your name tattooed over his chest?

“Looks like you need a hand,” he said, brushing back his long hair as his eyes moved along your body from head to toe.

You ignored your racing heart as you said through your teeth, “Go away.”

He tore your life apart like a tornado, leaving destruction where there was once calm and beauty. Instead of letting you pick up the pieces, he continued to wreck everything around you. He broke you, too, but you were also the only thing he put back together.

The smirk he gave you was one you used to adore. “What’s wrong, princess? Still mad at me?”

You scoffed. Was he serious? “Yes, I’m fucking mad at you.”

“Still mad about the past? Or is it because you can't get out of your own head long enough to make yourself come?” He taunted, slowly stroking his thick cock. “Did you ever actually get yourself off before me? Or did you not know what an orgasm was until I gave you one?”

You watched with a lustful gaze as his hand moved up and down, your eyes not leaving the sight as you desperately tried to get some sort of relief. “I had plenty before you showed up,” you hissed, sliding a finger into your tight hole.

“You know, all you have to do is admit that I'm right: That I've ruined you and all you can think about is how good it feels when I'm fucking you. Admit it and I’ll get you off.”

Pushing another finger inside yourself, you refused to admit that he was telling the truth. Nothing felt as good as he did. And that was the problem, wasn't it? You shouldn't want or need him. Not after everything he had done to your family.

He groaned as he watched your fingers sink in. “You're so pathetic laying there. My pretty little slut wants to prove the impossible. Just wants to prove that she doesn't need me when we both know that's a fucking lie,” he grunted as his cock twitched, making you clench in want despite your anger at his words. “Better hurry up and say it. Otherwise I'm going to come all over you and you're going to be left begging to come and not get off at all.”

You whined as a tear fell from your eye. “You're an asshole. The lowest of the low.”

He chuckled as he brushed his thumb along the tip, watching as your eyes followed the motion. “Now you're just trying to hurt my feelings and that's mean, princess. That isn't you. I'm the mean one in this relationship.”

Your fingers froze as you narrowed your eyes. “Relationship? Don't you mean your prisoner?”

Your breath caught in your throat when he smirked, something darker than before. “You think you're a prisoner? You have no fucking idea. I’ve been to prison. This is a fucking walk in the park,” he said, pouring more salt in the open wound when he added, “And your dad knows all about prison now, doesn't he?”

You choked on your next breath. “How dare-”

“Relationship, prisoner, my girl. You're still fucking mine,” he snarled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “And I'm still right. So just say it. Tell me you need my cock and I'll get you off. Fuck that pretty pussy so good you cry for me. Won't even make you apologize for repeatedly calling me an asshole.”

“I wish I never met you,” you blurted out.

Guilt churned in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. Why did you still care after what he did? Why did he matter to you? “You don't mean that,” he whispered before he blinked, ice in his gaze. “You’re just being a fucking brat.”

You let out a small scream of frustration when you removed your fingers and reached for your side drawer where you kept your vibrator. If Bucky was going to keep being an asshole who wouldn't get you off, your toy would. But he didn't let you get very far. Not when he was on you in a flash, throwing the toy far behind him and pinning your wrists above your head.

His breathing was almost as heavy as yours.

“Oh no, princess. You're so confident you can come without me then that must mean you don't need any help at all coming,” he smirked, gripping your wrists tighter as you squirmed beneath him. You didn't dare look down when his cock brushed against your skin. “It's cute that you think you're stronger than I am. That sexual frustration must really be fucking with your head. I can fix that.”

“You're fucking sick. I don't… I… I don't need you,” you said, not having to see your eyes to know your pupils were blown with lust. Your tongue darted out to lick bottom lip before your gaze settled on his, challenging. “You need me more than I need you. What was it you said? That I was the best pussy you ever had? And you’d be happy to keep your cock in me all day every day?”

“Just like my cock is the best you ever had.”

You opened your legs a bit more when he clenched his jaw. “And you don't want to finish on me. You want to be in me. If it were any other guy, he'd-”

He growled when he grabbed your chin. It was a reminder of just how strong he was and how he could hurt you if he wanted to. “There are no other guys. Do you fucking hear me?”

It was your turn to smirk. Bucky was a lot of things, but he never strayed. Not once. He would forever be faithful. “You sure about that? Maybe I can't relax right now, but if you won't fuck me I’m sure I can find someone who-”

He flipped you on your stomach and gripped the back of your neck before you could finish that statement. “If you think I wouldn’t kill any guy who touches you, you’re out of your fucking mind. Keep pushing me, sweetheart. See what happens.”

You bit back a moan at the gravel in his voice as you turned your head to the side, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. It was dangerous to poke the bear, but you were past the point of caring. Especially when fury looked beautiful on him. “What's wrong, Bucky? Don't like the taste of your own medicine?”

He leaned down, his breath harsh against your ear. “I prefer the taste of your pussy. Always so good for me. You wanna hear that I need you? Fine. I fucking need you,” he rasped, biting at your earlobe. “Happy?”

“And that you’re sorry?”

“For hurting you? Yes,” he whispered, nosing along your neck. “Never meant to hurt you.”

You shuddered, almost delirious from needing to come. And the fact that he admitted that he needed you. That he was sorry for hurting you. But you weren't ready to play nice. “I'll be happier when you finally decide to fuck me, but you're just a fucking asshole, aren't you?”

He let out a slow breath. “Yeah, I'm a fucking asshole.” He nipped your earlobe roughly again in retaliation before settling between your legs and teasingly brushing the tip of his cock along your folds. “And I'll fuck you when you say you need me, too.”

You tried to push back to take him in, but he kept a firm hold on your hips. You tried to wiggle out of it, but it only brought you frustration as you groaned. “If you're really going to make me say it, don't hold your breath. You can't threaten me, Bucky. You're all talk. And guess what?” You said, smiling sweetly. “I can find another guy to fuck me better than you can.”

You couldn’t see the thunderous look in his eyes, but you heard the low and menacing chuckle in his throat. It sent chills down your spine. Maybe you pushed too far this time, but you didn’t care. He deserved it and worse.

“You're trying to piss me off and I want you to remember that you pushed me to this,” he said more to himself than you before sheathing you in one hard thrust, your mouth falling open in a cry at his sudden intrusion. “Hope you enjoy the bed since you won't even be able to walk out of this room.”

You stared at the wall, your eyes unseeing as Bucky tore you apart. Seconds passed. Minutes. Hours. The sound of his grunts from behind you filled your ears, along with the brutal slap of skin-on-skin. Your body burned, the overwhelming stretch from his cock making you lose sense of yourself. You told yourself he’d finish fucking you soon, but that felt like ages ago.

You also told yourself there was no way you’d have another orgasm, but he proved you wrong. Climax after climax, your release practically flooded around him. At this rate, you really wouldn't be able to get out of bed.

“Bucky,” you gasped, trying to grip the sheets for purchase as he pulled out and slammed back into you. “Please…”

You were boneless, exhausted, and he just kept going. “Oh, no, princess. You wanted to get off.”

Tears of ecstasy streamed down your cheeks, whimpering when you felt yourself on the cusp of another orgasm. How was that possible? How many had he given you? “Bucky, I…” you moaned as you clenched around his cock again.

He cooed, a taunting sound when you choked on a sob. “So good, but I want another.”

“I don't… ” Your eyes rolled back, your head spinning. “I can't.”

You’d seriously lost count at that point how many times you’d come. And your whimper didn't stop Bucky from mockingly cooing again. “Aww, you don't think you can? My poor little fuck doll can still talk which means she hasn't had enough yet. This pussy is so fucking wet for me, so swollen,” he taunted, reaching underneath you and flicking your overstimulated clit as a choked moan escaped you, your walls tightening around him once again. “See? Your greedy little cunt can't get enough of me.”

Why did your body need him so badly? “I can't…” you whined as he licked one of your tears away, seemingly unbothered by the sheen of sweat on your face.

“You think anyone else can do this? Work your body up like this over and over again?” He grunted against your cheek. Your eyes squeezed shut at his harsh panting, his pace not slowing. “All you had to do was say that you need me. But no. You just had to be a fucking brat.”

You practically wailed as you teetered on the edge of another orgasm. “I-I need you. Just you, Bucky,” you said. At least, you thought you said it. You had a tough time stringing any thoughts together with his cock splitting you open.

But his thrusts don’t slow. They were just as relentless as before. “Oh, no. You had your chance to say it,” he snarled, leaning up to pull your hips back against his. “And my pussy is telling me all I need to know. So just lay there and give me another.”

The pleasure bordered on the edge of pain as a sob escaped. There was no possible way you could come again. As much as you thought you couldn’t take it, your body tensed. You still craved him and wanted to give him one more. So you did. You shattered. It was almost too easy that he managed to pull another orgasm from your pliable body.

Or maybe you were just easy for him.

Bucky smacked your ass hard enough to make you cry out, his hand kneading the flesh with a delighted groan. “Fuck, each one is better than the last, princess. You want me to fill you up huh? You wanna feel me dripping from you?” He chuckled darkly, finally slowing down as you let out another sob. He shushed you before he put a hand on the back of your neck and kept you down. “I’m gonna fill you up and you’re gonna take it. Then, I'm gonna lick you clean until I'm satisfied.”

“No…”

He gave you one more smack for good measure when you made a sound of protest. “C'mon, princess. Beg for me to fill you up. If you can talk.”

You didn’t know if you could. You were practically a drooling mess as he drove in as deep as he can go. “Pl… Pl… Bu…” you tried to moan, another tear falling as he shushed you again.

“Got you cockdrunk, didn't I? Need to be pumped full? Then let me give you every. Fucking. Drop.”

A tired moan came out when he filled you up, giving a few slow thrusts as he finished. Your body trembled beneath him, a whiplash of chills and heat. You barely registered him pulling out before he flipped you onto your back. Glassy and unfocused eyes. Makeup smeared all your face. Tears stains on your cheeks. You must’ve looked quite the sight.

He relished in ruining you.

And the beautiful bastard didn’t even look like he broke a sweat.

“Should I call you a dog? You’re drooling, princess,” he smirked. You didn’t have it in you to argue as his eyes drifted down to your pussy. It was still twitching and leaking with your mixed release. He licked his lips as he slid down your body more to fully take in the sight. “And you look good enough to eat, so I think that's just what I'll do.”

“What…” you gasped. He couldn't. Not after all that.

You whimpered as you tried to push him away with a tired hand, but he grabbed your wrists with a tsk. “No, no, no, sweetheart. You keep your hands to yourself. I told you I wasn't done with you and it's rude to keep a man from his meal.”

You were still floating from the multiple orgasms he gave you when he took his first lick. Your shivers picked up again and he groaned at your taste before diving in. Any strength you had to try to push him away depleted immediately, even with how sensitive your walls felt. You couldn't stop him.

You’d never be able to stop him.

After a minute, your eyes widened when you felt him build you up again. “No,” you moaned, but the sight of him between your legs, eating you like he was starving, was too much.

He just hummed against you. "Give. Me. One. More.”

Your back arched when his lips latched onto your clit, forcing the orgasm from your worn out body. You weren’t sure if you made a sound, but you trembled as your release went on for what seemed like forever. Bucky’s tongue lapped it all up, humming before he sat back and looked at your wrecked form again. He made a show of licking the shine from his lips and looked just as proud as ruining you with his tongue the way he did with his cock.

“If you ever try to threaten me with another man or refuse to admit you want me again, I'll make sure to tie you to this bed for a week and refuse to let you come even if you beg for it. And I shouldn’t have to mention what else I can do. Do you understand?”

You trembled, knowing exactly what Bucky was capable of. While he never laid a hand on you to inflict pain, you knew the damage he did to others. Like the bodies buried and cold in the ground because of him. Not to mention the connections he still had at the prison. All he had to do was say the word and that would be the true end of your dad.

With unfocused and teary eyes, you gave him a nod. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered.

“Now tell me you love me and that you’re sorry,” he ordered.

A tear slid from the corner of your eye. “…Love you. I’m sorry.”

His smile was tender and for a second you forgot about everything else. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, your heart betraying you like your body did when he kissed your lips. “And I love you, too.”

You whined as he left your line of sight, but he came back almost right away to sit beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. “Drink it, princess,” he urged, his voice gentler than before he helped you take a sip of water. He even smiled again when he wiped another tear of yours away. “We can go back to the way it was before, you know. When you were blissfully unaware and we just quickly fell in love.”

The pain in your heart came and went as your breathing evened. You wished you could go back to innocent movie nights and meals. To waking up beside him with a smile on your face. To making love so passionate that you believed you were made for each other. There was no changing anything or going back. You could only move forward with him by your side.

Bucky sighed when you didn't say anything. “I know I’m a piece of shit, but I won't stop loving you. And I think you learned your lesson.”

You blinked a little as you took another sip, on the verge of passing out.

“You’re mine and I’m never letting you go,” he whispered, brushing the gentlest of kisses against the top of your head. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that.”

So... I know he isn't all good, but I had fun writing this and I hope you lovelies enjoyed it! Would love to hear your thoughts and maybe I'll expand on this? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[gyuuberryy]

mischief (definitely not) managed!

pairing: enemy!heeseung x reader

summary: you stumble upon heeseung in a late night adventure through the halls of hogwarts. what follows next is completely unexpected, but maybe not unwanted.

genre: hogwarts au, e2l?, angst, fluff

warnings: making out(kinda), flirty heeseung, simping, magic stuff ig

note: i literally rushed through this fic so i could make up for the time it’s taking to write jungwon fic. besides, i’ve seen way too many heeseung edits on tt and can’t stop thinking about him. i hope you like this!

word count: 2kish

If you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

it was a regular day. you woke up, had a basic breakfast, and went to classes where nothing special happened—just the usual tasks and lectures. the evening was ordinary too, with a simple dinner and some time spent with friends before it was curfew for all the students. nothing stood out; it was just a plain, ordinary day.

you lay in bed, staring blankly at the cream coloured ceiling above you. it had been three hours since you had laid down to sleep, but unfortunately you found no success in succumbing to it. groaning, you sat up and clutched your head due to sleep deprivation. looking around the room you noticed that all of your roommates were sound asleep. huffing in slight envy, you shuffled out of bed and poured yourself a glass of water.

gulping down the cool liquid, you looked outside the room’s window. soft streaks of moonlight cast the grounds in an ethereal glow. by the shuffling of leaves on the nearby trees you could tell that it was breezy as well. maybe you should go out for a little bit? it will definitely be relaxing.

you knew it wasn’t allowed but you were too exhausted to care. if you didn’t manage to get at least five hours of sleep, you wouldn’t be able to function the next day. making up your mind, you slid on your slippers, grabbed your wand and silently opened the door to your room and slipped out. 

you were just leaving your dorm’s entrance when something swished past you with remarkable speed. your eyes widened as you stopped in your tracks and looked around. there was no one in the dimly lit corridor except for you. frowning, you resumed your walk towards the open grounds. a few moments later, a loud whooshing sound on your right made you look there questioningly. slowly, you took baby steps in that direction, your eyes widened when you heard a low growl. 

curiosity took over you as you wondered what was happening. determined, you quietly walked into the direction where the sound was coming from. you were just about to peek into a classroom, when you were suddenly pulled behind the wall next to it. your back hit a sturdy chest and you were just about to scream before a warm hand covered your mouth.

a voice rasped softly into your ear, their warm breath hitting your nape “what are you doing here?”

you could recognise that voice from a mile away. it was none other than lee heeseung, the bane of your existence. your biggest rival. the handsome boy was always around you, never giving you a second to breathe peacefully, always annoying you and making fun of you. of course, you always quipped right back at him, never letting him win. it definitely is very hard to get him off of your back, because he was here with you also, the time where he was supposed to be sleeping in his dorm.

you were slowly becoming aware of the arm wrapped tightly around your waist. cheeks heating up at the proximity, you whacked his arm and pushed him away from yourself. 

“that’s none of your business lee”, you hissed.

unimpressed, he just raised an eyebrow at you. looking you up and down, he smirked.

“nice outfit.”

you mentally groaned as you realised you were still in your nightwear which consisted of an old baggy t-shirt and shorts. you frowned when you noticed that heeseung was in his school robes. stupid heeseung, he always has to be the best at everything doesn’t he.

ignoring his comment, you whispered in a frustrated tone, “what are you doing here? it’s not like you’re supposed to be here either”. 

“the same thing you are here for.”

a serious expression took over your face as you stepped closer to him. “you heard those noises too?”

he nodded and looked at the wall beside him as if he could see what was going on in the classroom behind it. 

you only shook your head at him and turned away, ready to walk out, “well, i don’t know why you pulled me here, but i’m going to check out what’s happening in there.”

before you could move, he grabbed your arm once again.

“are you mental? you can’t just walk in there!”

you frowned at his foolishness, “i’m not going to walk in there genius.” you pressed your lips, “i’m going to secretly watch them.”

shaking his hand off your arm, you went to do exactly what you had just said. situating yourself right next to the doorway of the classroom, you listened for the voices. it seemed like they were facing the other way, making your hideout spot perfect to not be seen.

once you felt it safe, you slightly peeked through the crack of the door. it was very dark but you vaguely made out two silhouettes standing at the corner of the class. suddenly, a shadow loomed over you and you rolled your eyes in annoyance as you realised the taller boy had followed you and was now doing what you were.

a few minutes passed as you watched what the two shadowy figures did inside the room. they were muttering some sort of a spell which created a small glowing ball of red light that hovered in the air before them. it made weird gurgling noises and let out occasional growls. it was quite creepy to be honest.

“whoa, that’s definitely illegal”, heeseung mumbled from above you.

you remained silent, trying to figure out what they were trying to do. you vaguely remember reading something about a spell which created that glowy thing. you were lost in your thoughts, when suddenly the ball burst and expanded into a red glow across the room. 

in shock, heeseung clutched onto your arm and dug his nails into it. you groaned and whipped your head to your side to look up at him.

“can you stop being such a weakling.”

“i just got startled okay!” he frowned, “why are you being so grumpy today?”

“that’s because you’re everywhere i go!” you snapped meanly, “i wanted to do this by myself, but no, you just had to be here as well.”

a moment of silence passed between you two, you growing uncomfortable by the second at the way heeseung was looking at you. there’s no way he felt hurt by your words right? you both do this all the time.

before you could say or do anything, he narrowed his eyes at you and spoke in a low tone, “fine then, i’ll get out of your business.”

he was turning around to walk away, but he tripped over your foot because of the way he was positioned behind you. he fell on the smooth marble floor with a loud thud, making you gasp and drop your wand at the sudden sound. 

you both looked at each other in fear as you heard sounds of shuffling come from the classroom behind you. they had  heard the commotion.

you quickly grabbed your wand and extended a hand out towards heeseung, “we have to hide, now!”

immediately, he grabbed your hand and pulled you behind the same wall as he had done earlier. your eyes widened in fear at his actions.

“this is not a good place you dimwit-”

“trust me”, he whispered to you, “we don’t have enough time to-”

just as the sound of the classroom door being opened was heard, heeseung pinned you to the wall and smashed his lips against yours. your eyes momentarily widened before you realised what he was doing. playing along, you wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him closer to you.

his lips moved against yours furiously and in a rushed manner as he seemed to take out all the pent up frustration on you. you kissed him back with similar intensity, your legs feeling like jelly when he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. he immediately wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you, making you both impossibly closer. this was just supposed to be pretence, why is he literally making out with you?

suddenly, a voice whispered ‘lumos’ right next to you both, making you pull apart from each other in a haste. you gasped for breath as you looked at heeseung’s appearance; his blonde hair was sticking out in every direction (he looked really cute), his lips were shiny and swollen, cheeks flushed a deep colour of cherry. you were sure you looked something similar, making your cheeks heat up even more.

“what are you both doing here!”, the person next to you angrily spoke out.

you turned to look at the culprit who was none other than your professor for defence against the dark arts. you weren’t very surprised, he always gave off weird and evil vibes. he was definitely doing something shady.

neither of you said a word, waiting for him to make the next move.

the professor walked closer to you both and snarled, “you’re committing acts of public display of affection, during curfew that too!”

heeseung smiled at him sweetly as he said the next words, “but sir there’s no public here is there?”

you could literally see smoke coming out of the professor’s ears as his breathing grew heavy. you elbowed heeseung in the ribs and glared at him in warning but he just grinned back at you playfully. you sighed and turned back towards the man in front of you.

“we’re extremely sorry professor, this won’t happen aga-”

“back to your dorms, both of you” he yelled, interrupting you, “and fifty points from both of your houses!”

you grabbed heeseung’s hand and immediately scurried off, no longer wanting to stand in the presence of the angry professor. while on your run away from him, you almost stopped at the sight of a silhouette of a boy covered in school robes in one of the corridors. you frowned at that. that must be the second person from the room. 

slowing down to a stop once you got far enough, you tried removing your hand from his, but he didn’t let you and tightened his grasp instead. you looked up at him in question to see his doe eyes staring back at you in worry.

“are you okay love?”

you were sure you were going to combust on the spot from the endearing nickname he used for you. since when did that start?

“i’m fine”, you cleared your throat and looked anywhere but his eyes, your eyes unwantedly dropping down to his lips that were still a deep shade of pink from making out the kiss.

you immediately looked away, but it was too late. he had already noticed that. he smirked and walked towards you, making you back up till your back hit the wall behind you. he put up an arm beside your head and leaned down till he was towering over you only by a little. 

“you’re a good kisser, you know that?”

you gulped in nervousness as you stared back up at him. the close proximity was really not helping you hide it. he lowly chuckled at the change in your behaviour from your usual confident attitude. the low tone of his voice reached your ears, making your stomach do flips. in a feeble attempt to hide your attraction, you looked to your left where his arm was caging you in and almost drooled at the sight of veins bulging out from it. why is lee heeseung so unbelievably hot?

your eyes widened at his next words as he continued from the compliment.

“wanna do it again?”

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 14

This took. So long. I'm so sorry OTL But!!! It's done! I hope you all enjoy it! This chapter was suppose to be around 3000 words. It ended up being twice as long. Oops haha. I hope you all like this chapter though! Hopefully the next one won't take near as long (❁´◡`❁)

Summary: It was finally time for you to head home, but it seems Dracula wants to at least make sure you are healthy and safe before you go. A shame after you leave all your anxieties seem to hit you all at once...

CW: Anxiety attacks, slight mental breakdown, mentions of abusive relatives, brief mentions of injury, blossoming feelings

Word Count: 6384 Words!

Like this story? Please consider checking me out here! Likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Taglist: @sisterofsin29 @str4wbang3l @nikkilovemark @ms-bakugo-blog @kittenlover614 @simpytheshrimpy69 @midgetdemon17 @just-nother-dreamer @adrakeshoard @tilldeathripsusapart @thedeadlynights @pumpkinvampie @bethleeham @mshope16 @sixsixtwenty @haleypearce @rvautomatic @tinystarfishgalaxy @marshmelloe @maorizon @ursamajor17 @sapphicsfordracula @dame-sunflowers @sleepyendymion @starrlo0ver @onewiththebeanbag

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You were beginning to wonder if your life was a party, and you were the piñata.

In the span of less than a literal week, you had your shit kicked in since you couldn’t just fight off your step family, and accidentally revived an ancient ‘evil’ vampire that was your family’s immortal enemy.

Said immortal enemy then has tended to your health, Death threatened you, and now you somehow, by some stroke of luck, have convinced Dracula not to destroy all of humanity.

It… confused you.

Perhaps this really was a dream? Maybe you were actually still bleeding out on the floor of the castle or your bedroom?

By all means, you expected to possibly be dead after Dracula mentioned wanting to talk. You were in a way, ready to accept such a fate.

But his willingness to hear you out, and perhaps try not to kill people threw you for a loop.

A big loop.

One that had you questioning a lot, if you were being honest with yourself.

Had it always been that easy? Or were you genuinely just a special case? He did say he found you in particular fascinating.

One of your hands came up to rub your face as you felt your cheeks warm at the thought.

…Why did you have to find that kinda hot? Whatever, that wasn’t the point-

To be fair, given that the situation leading up to this point had already been weird and unusual, presumably even by your family’s standards. You doubted any of them would have had picnics with Dracula’s statue and run to his castle while critically injured.

But… you honestly couldn’t believe it was real. Dracula actually agreed not to try to destroy humanity. Somewhat.

Of course, that was his word alone, but…

…When you shook his hand, you couldn’t help but feel as if you had made a deal with the devil itself.

It was as if a part of you had a feeling deep in your chest that he would abide by the terms you both set.

But if you were being honest with yourself… you didn’t know if you could believe this. That the fact you even got him to agree was real.

You spent so much time worrying about it. Even before you ever found his statue, you had nightmares and days worrying about how you would handle Dracula if you had to confront him.

Was it all some plot? Some plan to make it hurt after betraying you?

Those pesky thoughts lingered, but you found it hard to believe them. Despite how often they popped up in your head, it was easy to counter them.

After all, why keep the Belmont alive after being slain so many times?

There were multiple opportunities to hurt you, kill you, torture you. Hell, if he wanted you as a prisoner, he didn’t have to give you such a lavish guest room.

Perhaps it was the fact everything you had been raised to believe at this point was now being called into question? After all, with everything happening, it felt like your world was spinning at a thousand miles an hour.

A part of you was probably also in shock.

Sure, your life has been hell up to this point, but it had a normalcy to it. You could expect to deal with dumb shit at home, and to fight evil monsters that were some of the worst of their kind when you did get to hunt.

It wasn’t fun, but it was normal.

This though? All the things you had happening to you?

Not normal at all, and it was hard to think.

Or maybe a bit too easy to do so.

It was as if a flood of thoughts swam in your mind, yet it was hard to comprehend so many of them.

“...At least the bed is comfy.” you mumbled, staring into the ceiling as you tried to calm your nerves. You still hadn’t completely calmed down since Dracula had talked to you.

Dracula had left not too long ago after you reached a… stable compromise?

He had said something about needing to check on some things, and to prepare to tell everyone about the deal you both came to.

You wondered just how much chaos that would stir.

A part of you felt a bit guilty. No doubt Dracula would have a lot of anger to deal with from some of his servants and the like. Many were already on edge with you just staying here, so you imagined the news wouldn’t go down without some outcry.

It was no secret many followed Dracula for his power, but it was also a well known fact many followed him because they hated humans. Hated hunters.

Though you doubted any public outbursts would be tolerated. Dracula no doubt would handle everything. You hoped.

If you were being honest though, a small part of you wanted to see the reaction on some of his servant’s faces. You bet some of the jaw dropping looks would be one to remember for years to come.

Unfortunately, you probably wouldn’t even be here to witness it.

Even if by some miracle you managed to possibly hold off the destruction of the world, you still had to deal with your step family, after all. Jason was already making your step brothers inquire about you, which was never a good sign.

You were lucky they backed off this long, and would probably give you a little longer before growing too restless.

After all, you did give them a bit of an ass kicking. Even if it was at the cost of your own health and mental well being, it was a long time coming.

That, and you doubted you would get such an opportunity so soon in the future. Best enjoy it before heading back and become their punching bag once again.

At least you probably wouldn’t have to worry about them trying to jump you like that any time soon. The fact they seemed to almost intentionally try and fatally injure you… it settled uncomfortably in your core.

Given you were willing to actually defend yourself for once, perhaps they won’t attempt something stupid like that again.

Despite that, you didn’t want to get your hopes up, either. Even if you showed you wouldn’t take a beating to that degree without fighting back, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t get creative with it for a possible next time.

Still, that didn’t change the fact you still had to go home. Sooner rather than later.

But… you’d be back. Hopefully.

That was one of the conditions Dracula asked for. He wanted you to come back. He wanted to see you again.

You tried not to think too deep about it. Surely, it was both to help keep the compromise in place, and to learn more about the current century, and all he had missed?

A part of you though couldn’t help but… daydream about the idea of him just wanting to see you. For you.

He said he found you fascinating, after all. But again, a part of you didn’t want to think too hard about it.

For all you knew, his version of ‘fascinating’ was simply seeing you as some sort of entertaining bug or something. Should you become a pest, all he had to do was squish you with his shoe.

…You didn’t want to believe that either, though. Not with how those ruby red eyes looked at you when he first was freed. How he asked who had hurt you.

The very thought of that moment had your heart racing again.

“Am I really that emotionally starved?” you mumbled to yourself once again. That question had been popping in your mind the more you thought about it, and how just one man/vampire made you flustered like a teenager having a crush.

When was the last time anyone had looked you in the eyes while injured, and asked who had hurt you? Then took care of you?

You hated to admit it, but Dracula had charm that a lot of people didn’t have nowadays. Or at least from most people you have met up to this point.

No doubt he had to have had it in order to be considered the King of the Night. You don’t just get that without some sort of charisma, you’d think.

…A part of you was going to miss it. You really had to return home, which is why you were dreading sleep.

Tomorrow you would head home. You would be back here, of course. A part of the agreement, after all.

But you didn’t want to go, almost like a small child not wanting to go to school.

“Ugh.”

Your chest pinged with anxiety every time you closed your eyes. It was hard to even relax enough just to rest.

–

By the time you felt your phone buzzing with an alarm to wake you up, you had nothing to show for what you ‘slept’, except for a migraine and a brewing anxiety attack.

Eyes heavy, you sat up in bed. A bed you were very much going to miss.

Even now, as you shuffled out of bed towards your bag, you could already feel yourself yearning to stay. Like a child who felt unwell and wanted to skip school, except 20x worse.

Grabbing your bag, you quickly went through the stuff you had, making sure everything was still here.

You trusted Dracula just fine with your bag, but you didn’t trust any other entity in this castle to not try and pull a fast one on you.

As much as it felt like some sort of Looney Tunes plot, you weren’t gonna put it past some disgruntled monster or entity to put a stick of dynamite in your bag or something hoping to blow you up.

Thankfully, you didn’t have much on you to begin with, but it didn’t hurt to be sure.

Tossing your bag to the side, you ran a hand over your face, trying to soothe your head and anxieties.

However, you nearly jumped when you heard a specific knock on the door. That same one you had grown familiar with.

Just how had Dracula known you were awake? Was he just guessing, or did he know? Did the castle tell him?

…Or perhaps he heard you thumping around. That was also possible. You decided not to think too much on it at the moment.

“Come in.”

The doorknob turned, before the door was pushed open, revealing Dracula himself.

He entered your room, giving you a polite nod before closing the door behind him, and walking up to the bed. Much like before, he pulled a chair close and sat in front of you.

A part of you wondered if he was doing that to seem more on an equal level as you, though you didn’t dare ask or point it out.

Getting comfortable, Dracula’s eyes seemed to see through you as he settled. Those ruby red eyes practically pierced you, and he didn’t even have to say a word for you to feel a bit small.

Yet, his words next were so gentle.

“How are you feeling?”

Despite it all, a small smile appeared on your face at his question. Your eyes dropped, and you looked over to the side.

“I’ll live. Head kinda hurts, and I didn’t sleep too well. A me issue, don’t worry.”

A flicker of a frown appeared on his face, before his face cooled back to a more neutral look.

“I see. What about your wounds? Any irritation? Are the stitches still holding up?”

You tried to ignore the warm feeling bubbling in your chest again at his concern, despite how hard it seemed to persist.

“They are healing nicely. I only feel a dull ache now compared to the pain I was in a few days ago.”

It was true. You barely felt your wounds compared to how you felt when you arrived. Dracula had done a lot to help them heal, going farther than most people have for you.

Dracula though, looked over your body, his eyes lingering where your wounds lay.

“May I see? I would like to check on them myself.”

Blinking, you leaned back onto the bed slightly, not too surprised.

“Yeah, sure. Here-”

Immediately, he was up from his chair, gently hovering over you from a slight distance. Far enough away to still give you some personal space, yet close enough to check over you.

He was quick, yet still just as gentle. It didn’t take much for him to remove your bandages, and look over your healing injuries, making sure to look over them thoroughly.

You hoped he didn’t think anything of the goosebumps showing up on your skin whenever his hands or nails briefly brushed against your skin. Hopefully he would assume you were chilled from the air, or were reacting to how cool his own skin was.

Another part of you hoped that thinking didn’t seem too pathetic.

And in an even deeper part of your mind… a part of you wondered what he would do if he did think you liked his touch. That was a part of your mind you tried not to linger on too much while Dracula’s face was less than a foot away from your own.

Dracula hummed a bit as he checked over your worst injuries, as well as your head injury. You may not have known him long, but you could assume he seemed pleased with your progress.

Most of your wounds had mostly healed up into scabs, instead of raw and fresh ripped flesh. Something that no doubt would have taken at least two weeks on its own without the help of the few potions Dracula has been giving you.

It would still take some time for them to completely heal, but you were no longer at a huge risk of infection, or had to stay in bed to heal.

Truly, you owed Dracula a great debt. Another thing you were… feeling odd about.

Before you could dwell too much on it though, Dracula was carefully placing your bandages back on.

“Good. They are healing quickly. I’m pleased with your progress.”

You gave him a smile as he sat back down, trying not to soak in his words too much. You were happy he was happy with your healing! A totally normal thing to want and achieve!

While you were trying to mentally downplay the buzz in your head from his ‘praise’, Dracula’s eyes looked over to your bag, which sat innocently on the bed next to you.

“Ah, were you still planning on returning to your home today?” he suddenly asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.

Trying to keep your anxiety about the mere thought of your ‘home’ in check, you nodded.

“Yeah, if I am away too long, it could cause some issues. It’s best if I leave today.”

Dracula leaned against his hand, his other on thrumming against the arm of the chair. You wondered if that was something he did often.

“And you’ll return?”

You nodded quickly.

“Of course. We agreed on that, right? Though…” you began, your hands playing with your shirt, “...It may take me a few weeks to a month to come back, but I will be back.”

Giving you a look, Dracula’s expression turned almost teasing.

“I would hope so, I would hate to have to hunt you down myself, Little Belmont.”

His tone was clearly joking in nature, with his lips curling into a grin that showed off his fangs.

You chuckled a bit, rubbing the back of your neck. However, the way he said it had heat rushing to your face.

God, why did you like the sound of that? Why? Why did your brain like it so much? You swear there had to be a deity out there who found your suffering hilarious.

You didn’t think you would be finding so much stuff about yourself when you arrived here a few days ago. Apparently you had interesting tastes, and were into things you hadn’t even considered before now.

No doubt you would be unpacking a lot of that later, possibly in the middle of a mental breakdown. It was too soon to tell.

Coughing a bit to try and stop those thoughts, you looked back at Dracula.

“Regardless, I will try to be here next month. I should be healed by then too…” You spoke, mumbling that last bit. Dracula gave you an odd look, and you had a feeling he wasn’t too sure of that, just as you were.

Sighing, Dracula then stood up, and much to your surprise, held a hand out to you. You stared at it for a moment, before looking back at his face as he began to speak.

“Well, are you ready to leave? If so, I shall escort you out myself.”

Your eyes flickered to his hand, which was still outstretched to you. After a moment, you took it.

“Trying to get rid of me so soon?” you joked, ignoring how your smaller, warmer hand easily slid into his larger, cooler one.

Dracula’s lips twitched upward as his hand gently curled around your own.

“Maybe I am? Someone has to get rid of the ‘Scary Vampire Hunter’ apparently haunting my castle.”

His words were pure jest, and that had the small smile on your face widening as he gently pulled you up to your feet.

“Can you walk?” He then asked, still clearly worried over you leaving so soon. You managed to stand on your feet without too much issue, and looked back up at him.

“Eh, I’m still a bit sore, but I can walk. I’ll be fine.”

It still actually hurt quite a bit, but hey, you have had worse.

Dracula also didn’t seem very convinced, but at this point, who was he to argue with you when you wished to leave?

Regardless, you were still a bit surprised to see him offer an arm to you after you managed to gain your balance.

“May I?”

Seeing Dracula offer his arm to you did not help the blossoming feelings in your chest. Why did the man who was humanity’s greatest enemy have to be such a gentleman??

Your face was hot, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that your blush wasn’t too noticeable.

“S-Sure.” You spoke, mentally hitting yourself with a hammer for stuttering.

Slowly, you reached out, nearly hesitating as your hand neared his arm. Gathering your resolve, you gently wrapped your own arm around his own.

He wasn’t as cold as you expected, despite him wearing a long sleeved shirt. Though it was hard for you to think as you registered just how big he was as you felt his muscles underneath said shirt.

Then, you nearly jumped when your bag was suddenly hovering in front of your face. You had nearly forgotten it on the bed behind you. Carefully, you grabbed it with your free hand with a quiet ‘thank you’.

“It is no issue at all. Shall we?” He spoke, looking down at you.

Oh stars, how he made you feel small.

“Yes.”

With that, he gently walked to the door, opening it with a flick of his wrist, and leading you out into the hall.

His pace was most likely slow for himself, given you were positive his stride easily would outdo yours. However, Dracula took his time so you could easily keep up.

You found you didn’t particularly mind. If anything, it gave you the perfect opportunity to admire the decor of his castle.

Castlevania had been described in many different ways from the journals you had read. Some said horrifying and confusing, while others spoke of it as if it were gorgeous, yet almost fake feeling.

You found yourself mentally describing it as hauntingly beautiful.

Just the hall outside your room was nothing less than extravagant. Dark red curtains hung above the giant windows that seemed to lead to a courtyard, while painting after painting adorned the walls between each window.

Each painting was unfamiliar to you, but they still astounded you all the same.

Dracula noticed your awe, and his lips curled into a smile.

“The castle, being connected to me, usually inherits my tastes. Though I’ve noticed it has a fondness for decorating on its own, and even has preferences. For instance…”

He paused in front of one of the massive windows overlooking a garden.

“The gardens always look a bit different, but it is fond of giant fountains. Nearly every iteration has one without my interference, though it is pleasing to see.”

You tried not to giggle at that. The thought of a sentient castle being fond of giant fountains and having decoration preferences was so silly, yet given what you were looking at, was very possible.

Dracula and you didn’t linger long at the window, but after that, Dracula almost enthusiastically pointed out different decorations and what some of them meant to him.

It was little things, such as his tastes in candelabras, or the story behind every other painting. Apparently there were many immortals who dabbled in the arts.

You wouldn’t lie. Walking through his castle was very… surreal.

This was a place you were supposed to storm through. A place you were supposed to look at with disgust and revulsion.

Yet, you were fascinated, despite being on edge.

Only one of your ancestors remarked on the beauty the castle had. Juste, you think was his name.

Juste had written how the castle had a strange charm to it, among all the horrors he saw. Apparently he had an eye for detail and decor, and briefly wrote about how he had found it fascinating before destroying Dracula’s wraith, thus destroying the castle.

You could kind of see what he meant now that you were seeing it first hand, even if it was most likely incredibly different than when your ancestor had run through here.

It didn’t take as long as you thought to get to the entrance hall, which was covered with a lush red carpet, and filled with different displays and extravagant furniture.

A part of you wondered if this was what some castles were like hundreds of years ago, just with a more modern touch. Maybe he’d tell you one day?

After all, you agreed to come back. You’d hopefully have plenty of opportunities for questions.

One thing though you did notice walking through the entry hall, was the uptick of monsters.

There were suits of armor you passed, where you could sense enchantments on them, each standing at attention.

That, and maids were here and there, cleaning or tidying up. You could tell most weren’t human just by looking at them, but that was none of your concern. At least not at the moment, so long as they didn’t attack you.

They kept their distance, but you felt all their stares. Some looked at you curious, before averting their eyes. While others gave you cold smiles. You suppose you didn’t blame them.

Ignoring their looks, you felt your heart pound in your chest the closer you got to the massive door.

It looked different.

Instead of a worn down door that looked as if it had been left to rot, was a magnificent massive door that looked warm and taken care of.

And imposing. Very imposing.

Then again, that was most likely the point, even if you were looking at it from the inside. You could only wonder how it looked outside…

You didn’t have to wonder long. The moment you both approached the giant door, it opened completely on its own, as if the castle itself was opening the door for its master.

Despite having been around Dracula a little bit, his impressive feats of magic and mastery over the castle still seemed to awe you.

A part of you also wondered if he was doing that on purpose to show off. You wouldn’t be surprised with how he would occasionally look at you after doing something with magic.

Magic itself wasn’t new to you, but all that he could do? Especially when it wasn’t combat related? It was a bit impressive, you’d admit it.

As he walked you through the large doorway, you noticed the courtyard between the entrance and the gate had also changed. What was overgrown, wild shrubbery and trees was now a full garden. The plants seemed alive, but in a way that was almost… unreal.

He guided you through the courtyard, his arm still entwined with your own.

It didn’t take long before you were at the gate, and he came to a stop. Looking down at you, he posed a question that had your heart thrum in your chest.

“Is this fine, or do you require assistance to your cabin?”

His question caught you off guard slightly. You hadn’t anticipated him asking, nor had you thought that far.

“N-No, I’ll be alright. Thank you.”

A part of you really really wanted to say yes, so this moment lasted a while longer. So you didn’t have to say farewell.

But the rational part of you screamed no. Even if you somewhat trusted this man, were you ready to let him know about your cabin? How to approach it? What if you both were followed? Did you want anyone possibly seeing any weaknesses in your defenses?

No, the hunter in your brain won out. You couldn’t risk anyone finding your defenses, or rummaging through the one sanctuary you had.

You just hoped Dracula wouldn’t take it personally if he or one of his underlings investigated your cabin and exploded or something from one of the traps or wards.

Dracula meanwhile gave you a long look. If you didn’t know any better, you’d even say it was disappointment you saw in those ruby colored eyes of his. With a sigh, he gently let your arm go from his own, turning to face you properly.

“Very well. I shall await your inevitable return. Do not keep me waiting too long, Little Belmont.”

You already missed him. How?

Slowly, you nodded your head.

“Of course. Um…”

A part of you felt so awkward already.

“See you soon?”

Mentally, you were smacking your head against the wall. Did you really just tell the Lord of Darkness ‘see you soon’? You wanted to explode.

However, most of your embarrassment almost melted completely away when he gave you a small smile.

“Indeed. See you soon.”

You stared at him for a moment, you both seemingly unable to look away. It wasn’t until a rumble of thunder broke your gaze away, and you stared at the long walk at the edge of the lake you would have to trek.

With a sigh, you turned, and began to walk.

Already, you were regretting not taking him up on his offer. But it had to be done this way.

RIght?

Your heart was heavy in your chest as you pushed forward with every step. You couldn’t even muster up the courage to look back as you crossed the edge of the lake towards the forest.

At least, you couldn’t until you reached the edge of the clearing.

Already you were tired, but you couldn’t help but finally look back behind you. Back towards Dracula’s castle.

Your eyes widened when you did.

The castle, something that should have horrified you, was gorgeous surrounded by clouds and the forest. Its image even seemed to eerily reflect back at the lake despite the clouds above.

And Dracula remained in front of it, watching you.

It was hard to see from so far away, but you could just barely make out his cloak spiraling out behind him in the wind. He was watching you leave.

Was it to make sure you were really fine? Was it genuine concern? Why else would he watch over you while you left?

…Did he actually enjoy your company? Did he already miss it?

It took more effort than you would like to admit to swallow down the warmth bubbling in your chest.

How silly.

No need to get your hopes up. You hoped that at least a few days away from this place might clear your head. Surely that’ll make these confusing feelings go away. Right? Right?

You just hoped this wouldn’t mess up how you perceived your cabin… You already came to terms with your sanctuary being next to an empty castle. Now it is alive, and its king has an interest in you and your motivations.

With a sigh, and one last long look at the castle (and its owner out front), you turned back to the woods.

Each step back was heavy, and you felt as if you were in a daze. If it weren’t for the fact you had been bewitched before and knew how it felt, you would have wondered if you had been enthralled by some sort of spell.

At least you were self aware enough to walk back to your peaceful abode with caution.

You checked your traps as you went, watching your step as you did so. Thankfully, most were undisturbed except for one or two traps. Those you suspect were simply disturbed by animals rather than monsters looking for a meal.

Well, you at least hoped that was the case. You didn’t sense any paranormal residue of any sort, but that wasn’t a guarantee…

Still, you took enough time to go over most you came across, and as your cabin came into view, you checked around the building.

It was tiring, but quick with how your mind was still a buzz. At least nothing seemed out of place.

Just… a few blood stains from when you were here last and critically injured. Oops.

You sighed, debating if you should leave it as a problem for future you. Not like this place and your home were lacking in blood stains if you looked hard enough. What were a few more?

Still, you didn’t just want to leave it there, so you at least cleaned it up a little bit so you wouldn’t come back to a gross smell. Well, at least a worse smell, anyway. The blood didn’t do your cabin any favors, but hey, it could be worse.

You’d clean it properly and make it spotless when you came back. Eventually. Hopefully. Maybe.

Whatever.

It didn’t take long, but it was clear what you were doing. Trying to keep yourself distracted while in this fog. Trying to buy time before you head home. Buying time before the reality of everything that had happened hit you.

You didn’t get as much time as you would have liked.

Thankfully, since everything else in your cabin was untouched after a quick sweep, you didn’t take much longer to leave said cabin. Even if you wanted more time, it was a weight off your shoulders that you didn’t have to worry about anything being… tampered with.

All you had to do was toss your bag in your car, set your whip aside, and drive off.

Should you be driving while in such a state? No, but you didn’t exactly have the luxury of keeping your home waiting much longer.

The drive itself wasn’t long, or at least, it didn’t feel like it. With each mile, the clouds began to part, and the sun began to shine. It was almost insane how much reach the castle had in terms of weather.

Or was it Dracula’s influence? You wondered if he’d tell you if you asked next time you saw him.

Next time. Right.

Your grip on the wheel tightened, and you could feel your anxiety peaking as you drove further from the cabin. From the castle. Only to grow closer to your home.

…Would they all be there? Your step family?

Dread was already pooling in your gut as you imagined them waiting for you at home. Would they be extra pissed? Would they do something reckless?

With the shit they pulled last time… You weren’t so sure you would be safe. Even if you scared them a bit, you feared you only pissed them off more. If they were willing to fatally injure you so blatantly in ‘training’...

You feared what they might do since they didn’t succeed, and you couldn’t do a thing about it until they acted.

Sweat began to form on your temple as your heart uncomfortably began to beat faster. You felt ill. Felt like you were cornered by a pack of werewolves who were starved for a meal, and you weren’t even at your house yet.

Yet as your city came into view, you felt worse.

Would they scream at you? Yell at you? Call you worthless?

Or would Jason lash out, and finally attack you? You knew he had been holding himself back, but after last time…

What about your home? Was it in good condition? Or did they start destroying things? You wouldn’t be surprised if your room was destroyed.

Worse… would they kick you out?

You had no real legal standing if they kicked you out. All your family’s artifacts, weapons, and history… gone.

They would never give it back to you, or any of your living family members across the globe. No doubt they would simply will everything to themselves if anything happened to one of them.

Why did your mother leave everything to them?

It wasn’t fair.

You were beginning to feel even worse thinking about it.

Still, you forced yourself to swallow what felt like bile rising from your throat as you pulled onto your street outside of the city. Getting sick wouldn’t solve any of your problems, and would most likely make things worse.

But you could barely fight the rising panic as your family home came into view.

It was never so daunting and imposing before now. A place filled with light in your childhood now brought you nothing but terror and anxiety just looking at it as you drove closer.

As you pulled into your driveway though, you paused, and stopped your car.

No cars were outside.

No cars were outside.

No cars in the driveway or out front, and if you were lucky, not in the garage either. But at least your step brothers were gone.

The way your body practically sagged in relief. Even if somehow Jason was home, that was better than having to confront all three at the same time after getting back right away.

Taking a deep breath, you turned off the engine, and climbed out of the car. You only grabbed your bag, keeping anything else locked inside.

It took a few moments to gather your courage, before you slowly unlocked and opened the front door.

You waited a few moments, holding your breath as each tense moment passed.

Nothing.

It was dark, and you heard all the familiar creaks, but no footsteps. No sounds of a TV. No talking in the distance.

Carefully, you stepped inside, and quietly closed the door behind you.

There was still nothing.

Were you truly home alone?

A part of you wanted to relax, but the hunter in you stayed alert. With silent footsteps, you headed to the garage just to be safe. There was no one on the way there, and when you opened the garage door?

Nothing.

Closing it, you laid your back against the door, hand over your heart as you tried to calm down.

You were actually home alone for once.

Did they have a hunt? Need supplies and go shopping since you were gone?

Either way, it didn’t matter. You were home alone, and that was most important at the moment. You could let your guard down for a little while.

At least, until whenever they came home.

With a huge weight temporarily off your shoulders, you made your way to your room, a small plan in mind.

First, you needed to change clothes. You were thankful for the clothes Dracula had lent you, but… what you had on was a little dated. Even if you liked how the loose, puffy shirt looked on you, and the comfortable pants… No doubt there would be questions why you were wearing clothing that was popular in a different century.

Then you needed to shower, and write down some stuff you needed to do going forward. Maybe even get some sleep before anyone gets home…

Sitting down on your bed with a messy plan in mind, you reached into your bag to get your dirty clothes out for you to wash later.

As you rummaged through it, you froze when you felt something new inside it.

Thoughts ran through your mind as your blood ran cold. Have you been had? Did someone plant a bomb or a weapon in your bag? Did Dracula betray you?

Carefully, your hand grasped the cool object, before slowly pulling out of your bag.

You couldn’t help the small gasp that left your mouth when you pulled out a potion bottle.

“When…?”

Looking over the bottle, you noticed a tag attached to the cork, and gently held it still as you made out the intricate cursive on the note.

‘I figured you could use this. It should be enough to finish healing your wounds. I hope you put it to good use.

Sincerely,

~VDT.’

You didn’t notice you were beginning to cry, until your vision became blurry with hot tears.

“VDT…. Vlad… Dracula Țepeș…?” You asked out loud with a sniffle.

He didn’t betray you. At some point, he must have slipped this in your bag after his last visit as he escorted you out. How?

It was a silly question to ask, given the immense power he held… but…

You sniffled again, tears hitting your leg as everything slowly began to hit you at once.

Despite it all…

…Dracula went out of his way to heal you, and even made sure you had something for when you got home.

More tears began to form as you carefully cradled the small note to your chest.

Dracula at least cared about you, when no one else did.

That thought both thrilled and terrified you to the core.

…Because you were certain you cared for him back.

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Nine (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: Shorter chapter this week (be warned, next week's will be the heftiest yet), but I hope you like this next instalment! It's really gearing us up for the FINAL TWO! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. If you've read this far, THANK YOU! ILY :-*

Word count: 3.8k for this part. 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

Today is a new day. It’s a new day and you’re done crying. You’re done holding on to anger and resentments. 

Besides, you feel as though you gave Santiago everything you had last night, and - at least for now - there is nothing else left to give. 

So, instead of wallowing, you plod downstairs to where Frankie is stationed in the kitchen, offering up your favourite pastries, coffee, and even pulpy, freshly squeezed orange juice. You pull up to the breakfast bar, hopping up on a stool to survey your extravagant pity platter. 

It’s true then. “He’s gone.” 

Frankie nods solemnly, leaning into the other side of the island like he’s a sympathetic bartender in some old Western flick. He claps his palm to your shoulder in a supportive gesture. “I’m sorry, chiquita.”

You shrug. 

His face twists. That’s not all there is. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but…”

“What, Frankie?” 

“He had to bounce but he didn’t want to wake you. Said you looked far too peaceful sleeping for him to come along and fuck that up.”

Your brow notches, absorbing all of that with a contrived neutrality. “How did he… seem?”

Frankie’s eyebrows raise lightly as he ponders, thinking back over prior events. “Calm, actually. Happy, even.” 

“Hmm.” You smile softly to yourself. Makes a change from lately to hear that. You get it though. After last night, you can’t feel anything else either. Even if he technically didn’t say goodbye in words, you get it. You aren’t mad. Chances are one or both of you would have fucked it up this morning. This way at least, it leaves the night you spent together untarnished. Makes it feel like holding on to a good dream, before the realities of the day can set in and make things fraught. 

Frankie’s face crumples with concern as you gaze wistfully into the middle-distance. “You gonna be alright?” 

You pump your eyebrows. Search yourself for feelings. “You know what? Yeah. I am. I’m okay.” 

Frankie’s eyes glint playfully then. “Oh. So you won’t need alllll o’ these yummy pastries?” 

You laugh as he eyes the pain au chocolat pointedly. “Get stuck in, Morales,” you invite fondly, and he obliges, scraping up a stool and wiggling on his ass until he’s comfy. 

“Hey. So,” he says through mouthfuls. “Did you two figure anything out?” 

You groan at the sheer complexity of Frankie’s simple question. Did you? Or are you still going around in circles? “We know we love each other. The rest? Uh. I still don’t know.” 

“He’ll get there.” 

You puff air out from between your teeth. 

“You don’t think so?” Frankie interprets. 

You wrap your arms around your middle. “It’s not that. It’s… I don’t think it was all on him.” You don’t have any blame or accusations left. No grudges to hold on to - your hands are open. You’ve both made mistakes. Manufactured this distance, in your own ways - sometimes literally, sometimes not. You were both just trying to figure all this out as best as you could. 

Frankie’s brows notch and rise with a silent question. How so? What do you mean? 

The thoughts form as you speak them. Clumsy yet intrepid. “I guess... It just feels like we were… Both waiting for the other person to get somewhere, you know? But this whole time, we should’ve been heading there together. Otherwise, how the fuck were we supposed to know where to end up?” You slide a palm over your face. “Christ. Does that make any fucking sense?”

Frankie ponders. “I think so. Like trying to meet on the highway without a time or a place or directions?” 

You reach out and clasp his hand. “You get me, buddy.” 

Frankie blinks, tangling himself up further in your metaphor, but valiantly trying to muddle through. “And so… do you…?” He scratches his chaotic mop of hair. “Do you have a map now? A meeting point? I mean… What happens next? On the highway?” Your mouth lilts into a gentle smile at Frankie’s earnest question. He notes and feeds your amusement, going off the deep-end with this metaphor now. “Are you driving in shifts, chiquita? Grabbing cheez-its for the road?”

You laugh, the musical sound mingling with Frankie’s throaty chuckle. “What happens next?” You repeat the question out loud, carefully, posing it to yourself. Hasn’t that always been the question? However, the very sentiment which used to scare you now feels a lot more like potential. Like possibility. 

Still, you feel -for the moment- like leaving that question hanging. You leave a pregnant pause. You let it breathe. 

For now; you let it go. You let him go. 

“Where are the other guys at, anyway?” 

Frankie rides your tangent with ease. “Packing shit up.” 

“We should help them.” 

“Yeah, we should,” Frankie grins mischievously, and yet neither of you make any effort whatsoever to mobilise. 

Instead, Frankie pours you a cup of coffee from the pot. 

“You wanna call off the hike today?” he asks hopefully, Frankie increasingly a creature of comfort. 

“No. Hell no. I need to move.” You lock your fingers and stretch your arms above your head, a satisfying stretch extending down your spine. 

Frankie’s eyes sparkle across at you. “Just not in aid of helping the Millers pack their trunk, huh?” 

“Exactly! What did I tell you, bud. You get me.” 

You do though. You need to move. You need to move forward. No more standing in place. No more moving in circles, always repeating. 

Still, when you think about it. When you think to what is ahead, to what is next, your stomach drops. You feel overcome by a sudden anxiety which you can’t place at first. Like having misplaced something dear to you. Like having done something wrong but not being able to recall exactly what. Then, all of a sudden, you understand it entirely. 

“Listen. Tell me about this job, Frankie.” 

He immediately tenses up. “What job?” 

You take a bite of your pastry. “The one with Lorea’s cash house.”

Frankie simply groans. He always knows more than he lets on, this one. About everything. Everyone. 

“Is it true? That you and the boys are in?” 

You can plainly see his reticence to respond. But you know for a fact that he’s about to cave. 

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. 

“They need a pilot,” Frankie states, looking up at you with guilty, puppy dog eyes. 

“Fuck me. He dragged you back in too, huh? You know… Sometimes I wonder if any of us are good for each other.” Your tone grows mildly irate, your heart quickening, but you recognise it for what it is. It’s simply anger veiling worry. You love these boys. 

“Come on, don’t say that,” Frankie bargains. “We’ve dragged each other out of hell.”

“And back again.”

Frankie takes a deep breath. His tongue pokes around the meat of his cheek. “He says it’s simple recon. In and out. No mess.” 

You jut your chin up. Stare at him levelly, unblinking. You know that Frankie will give it to you straight. Know that he can’t help himself. “And you buy that?” 

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. 

“Not for a fucking second.” 

You scoff, shaking your head. Not when it comes from Santiago, no. After all, you’ve fallen for Santiago’s bullshit plenty of times yourself. It’s the fact that Frankie would wander in with his eyes wide open to it that really gets you. It’s something else. 

Still, before you can chastise him for being so stupid, Frankie glumly offers up some explanation. “Look. I need the job. I… I got my license revoked.” 

Your heart drops - and your face with it. Your hands clamp over your mouth. “Frankie,” you say softly, with empathy. “Fuck.”

He hunches in on himself despondently, his hands disappearing up his sleeves, his fists clenching and his gaze cast downward. “I fucked up, man. Cassie has a baby on the way and I fucked up.” His eyes swim with a deep shame. 

“Coke?” you venture, tentatively.  

5, 4, 3, 2, 1. 

Slowly, he nods. 

“Frankie.” Your hand swipes over your face, and your eyes fill with concern for him. His palm waves in the air, however, quickly dismissing any sympathies you may care to bestow. 

“I’m back on track. Getting there. I am.” His eyes are nothing but determined. Sincere. “But I need this gig. No matter how fucking hare-brained a scheme that pendejo is cooking.” 

“Think of the baby, dude.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Frankie says forcefully, in a harsh tone he rarely uses, and you know in no uncertain terms that the conversation is done. That he’s made his mind up, and that he won’t hear you out any further on the matter. 

You swallow. Regroup. You chew on some platitudes, but none of them feel quite right. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Frankie says after a stretched, tense moment. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.” 

“It’s okay,” you jostle his shoulder, and it shakes a little of the tension from him and the room. “I get it. And shit. I’m sorry for putting all of my bullshit on you this weekend. I wish you’d said something, Cat.” 

He shrugs. Speaks with finality. “There’s not much to say. It’s done. I just need to make it right. And I will.”

“I believe it. But you do know that I’m… If you need… Anything, Frankie.” 

He looks up at you then, the warmth back in his eyes as your voice cracks, searching for the words. But, he already knows everything you could ever say. You’ve said it before, a hundred times. He knows you love him. Knows you’re proud of him. Knows you’d do anything for him. Knows you want the best for him. He knows it already. 

In turn, you are sure that he already knows everything you could possibly call him out on. That he’s already thought about it. Weighed it up. Thought about the risks. About the possibility that he’s acting out of desperation. The possibility that he’d probably be better off staying the hell away from Pope’s schemes. 

He scrapes his stool back and comes to you, bundling you into a tight, warm, big brother hug. You tug in a deep breath, and you let it go. You’re done trying to control everything around you. It never really got you anywhere. 

Still, there’s an undeniably uncomfortable knot in your chest as you think about them all gearing up. Strapping on their tac vests. Shoving clotting pads into their med packs. It makes you feel physically ill. And so, you can’t help yourself. “Do me a favour, Frankie? Don’t take Tom?” You muffle the words into his shirt, half hoping they will get lost there. That maybe he didn’t even hear you. But, you know when he braces his hands on your shoulders to get a good look at you, that your game is up. 

“Why not?” 

You see it then, in his eyes. That Tom is not a risk Frankie has considered. His presence not something he has weighed up. 

You deliver your words as plainly and transparently as possible. “He’s too hungry, Cat.” 

Frankie simply locks eyes with you, as though trying to weed out your motives. Shrewdly trying to assess your conclusions. Is this just your petty vendetta talking? Is this intelligence? Is this coming from your gut? 

“Please. Just trust me.”

“I do,” he nods eventually, but you should know better than to feel any relief. And next, there it is. “I do but it’s not my call.” 

Well. You’ve said your piece. You guess that’s all you’ve got. Absent-mindedly, you tug on Frankie’s lapels. “You’d better come back to me, Cat,” you plead plaintively. “And by God, you’d better bring those other fuckers back with you to boot.” 

With a wistful affection, Frankie tugs you to him again and you stand there in silence for a few more moments, the sounds of the other guys evident in the background. In time, you and Frankie release each other and gravitate towards them, tucking yourselves under the porch to survey their efforts packing up the trucks. 

“We should probably help,” you repeat again, and, to your side, your hear Frankie’s murmur of agreement. However, when you glance to him you see his long, lean frame stretched out up against the wooden porch post. He looks like a man with nowhere else to be in a hurry.  

“Fuck,” he curses at nothing in particular, surveying the animated bodies of his buddies before him with both awe and trepidation. “How did we get here? Years of service and none of us have anything to show for it.” 

That’s a Santiago sales pitch, through and through, you reckon. You recognise his propaganda. Funny, since he used to swallow the flag for breakfast. Is that how he got to him then? Convinced Frankie he could finally make bank? Take what he deserved? Ah. Or give his family what they deserved? Frankie is all about family. 

A sad smile twitches your mouth. “Well. That’s not entirely true, is it? Not nothing.” You think of what you’ve gained from all of this. “I got a gaggle of weird ass brothers. A suitcase full of trauma. A fucked back. And! An array of unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

Despite the darkness of your statement, Frankie’s eyes crinkle. What else is left to do but laugh, anyway? “Maybe Will should put that in his speech.”

You belly chuckle at that, moving to lean up against the opposite post. “Yeah. Scare those poor recruits off before they can end up like us, huh?” 

Frankie looks wistful again. “It hasn’t been all bad.” 

No. It hasn’t. He’s not wrong about that. 

You ponder on it. If you could go back and change your path - would you? But, despite everything, your squad would be far too much to lose. “Sure. The weird thing is, as shitty as it’s been at times? I wouldn’t change it for the world.” 

There is a beat, and Frankie reaches out across the space between you and wordlessly clasps your hand. 

“Listen. You gonna be okay, Frankie?” He looks down at his worn sneakers, contemplatively, as though he really doesn’t know the answer yet. You give his hand a squeeze, trying to let him know that’s okay. “We’ll talk more, okay?” 

He nods - a subtle, concessionary thing, like maybe he could really do with that. 

“I get why you didn’t tell me. But I’m sorry. That I didn’t do a better job of asking.” 

“It’s not on you,” he says generously. A little too generously, in your estimation. You’ve been rather wrapped up in your own shit. A little too self-involved. “I know I can talk to you. I just… I, uh. Didn’t want to ruin the weekend.” The irony of that statement causes a throaty chuckle to bounce in Frankie’s neck, and your palm slides over your face in regret even as you laugh in reciprocity. 

“Christ. I did a great job of that all by myself.”

“Well,” Frankie says good-naturedly, shifting to bump your hip with his. Wrapping his crooked arm over your shoulder. “You had some help.” 

It is your turn now to look wistful, as you contemplate the storm that is Santiago, and all the rubble he left behind. “He’s really gone again.” Frankie simply squeezes you a little tighter. “Hey. Anything else I should know, by the way?” you needle. “You’re not holding out on me?”  

Frankie sucks air through his teeth. “Tom and Molly. She finally served him papers.” 

You fold forward, hinging to collapse your upper half onto the porch rail. “Fuck. Shit. I really need to start being nicer to that shithead.” Still, from behind, Frankie’s familiar chuckle buoys you, even as you inwardly berate yourself for getting wrapped up in your own business. “We’re all messes, huh, Frankie? Do you think we can fix it?” 

“Yeah. Yeah. I do.” 

“Truly?” 

“Truly.” 

You toss him a soft, grateful smile, which extends as Will makes his way over to your position, greeting you “Hey, slackers!”. You and Frankie share a conspiratorial glance. 

“All set for the hike, Captain?” 

“No thanks to you.” 

“I had an alternate mission. Ranks of pastries to deplete.”

Will feigns tiredness, but his baby blues sparkle even as he rolls them. 

“Anyway. Didn’t need you. All set to head out as soon as you slackers get your act together. You wantin’ to do the usual route, hon?” 

You brace your arms against the porch rail. Dig your fingers into the wood. “No,” you say, the words a little tight in your chest, but they feel good. “Not today. There’s somewhere else. Somewhere I always wanted to go.” 

Somewhere new. 

“Fine by me,” Frankie offers. “Just let me grab more pastries.” 

***

You relish the hike, when it comes. You relish walking a path that is -to you- entirely untrodden. That he can’t touch. You walked the old, familiar trails for too long, and the only place it ever got you was right back where you started. 

The bullshit ends here. You’ve decided. 

And so, you turn your attention away from your sun, and to the wider constellation of stars around you. To yourself. 

You even do your best to make peace with Tom. To put old grudges to bed. 

You relish the hike. Enjoy the undulating landscape. You don’t know for sure what’s next, or where you’re going, but the difference is that for once, that feels okay. Full of potential. 

You walk until your legs burn, and when you get to the summit you take a moment to drink in the crisp, clifftop air. To look out across the ocean. To see it from a distance and to know that this time, it cannot break you over and over and over. 

Still, when you’re at the top, as if by providence, Santiago texts you. 

“Hey. Sorry I had to take off early. I wanna say… Thank you.” 

“For what?”

“For the best night of my life.” 

“Ah. Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, and you press the button to call him. You immediately call him. He immediately picks up. “Hi.”

”Hi. What’s up? They just announced my gate.”

”That’s okay, I’ll be quick. I, uh. I just needed to tell you too. Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“For a proper goodbye.” 

“Look, I’m sorry that I-”

“-I’m not mad, Santi. I think… I think we said everything we have to say, right? I think it was…”

”…Perfect?”

”Yeah. Yeah, pretty perfect.” 

“Listen. It’s selfish, but. With everything coming up. The Lorea job and… I needed it, you know? Needed that image of you sleeping.” 

There’s an ache in your chest and it’s bittersweet. 

He cares for you in every way he knows how, doesn’t he? In every way he can. He’s not perfect, but hey, neither are you. You’re both a little bit broken, but that doesn’t mean you can’t heal. And most of all, it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love while you’re doing it. 

One day, he’ll turn up at your door, and he’ll be welcome. Whenever that is. Whenever it happens. But until then, you can’t just wait for him. 

Until then, you’ll love him; from a distance. 

No longer can you leave him in anger. No longer can he break you. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

Maybe one day, that will even be enough. 

“Would you promise me something?”

“Sure.”

“Come back and visit soon, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”  

You conclude the call, and you stretch your arms above your head. A pleasant tingle snakes down your back as it cracks. You haven’t felt so relaxed in a long time. You don’t think you’ve ever felt such peace. 

The path that you are walking is yours, and you implicitly trust where it’s taking you. 

***

You are grateful to slip into the passenger side of Frankie’s car, beginning the drive back to the city and signalling the end of your stay at the beach house. Still, there is something bittersweet there too as you leave behind the site of so many memories from over the years - and now, the site of your most perfect night with Santiago. 

It reminds you of all you’ve been through. The ups and the downs and plenty of things which went sideways. You are starting to realise though, that perhaps the landscape of love is undulating. That sometimes the terrain is tough. It shouldn’t have been quite so tough though - so steep and unforgiving; and so, you hope for gentler, easier paths ahead. 

It is bittersweet then, as you leave this place behind. 

As you look forward, having said goodbye. As you wrestle with your past, future, and present. 

Frankie swings the car out and onto the highway, the Millers up ahead and Tom behind, your vehicles forming a convoy through the dark, the glow of headlights illuminating the route ahead. 

You sit in silence, eyes and thoughts unfocussed, in abstraction, as you watch vague shapes and colours slipping by the window, your own face occasionally reflected right back at you. You look older than you used to. More tired. But you don’t dislike that. 

After a while, Frankie’s robust voice slices through the dark, his eyes on the road and hands threading the wheel. “I don’t know if this will make things better or worse but… Do you want to hear it?” 

You swivel your head towards him, fractured, liquid panels of light slipping over the planes of his face as your surroundings pass by in a haze. “Hear what?” 

“Pope’s heartbreak playlist?” 

Your hands dig into your thighs where they rest. “Do I?”

“Well?” Frankie asks, his finger poised over the button, and evidently not willing to make that decision for you. 

“Yeah. Fuck it.”

You brace a little, in all honesty. A tightness takes hold of your chest as you wonder if the first track to befall your ears might be angry. Resentful. Full of blame or sadness that you can’t hope to wrestle with and come out on top. But, as the first notes of the track sound out, you are surprised to find a full, unfettered laugh rises from out of your throat. The tears swell in your eyes next, for it is nothing if not bittersweet. 

“That dickhead. I can’t believe…” 

You can’t believe it. The fact he has chosen a song which reflects your life together? Which reveals a happy memory? 

He loves you, doesn’t he? He has for a long time. And you can’t help but hope that maybe one day, that will even be enough. For tonight though, it will definitely do. You’ll take it. You’ll treasure it. 

“Whiskey in the Jar,” Frankie scoffs as he catches on to the song, even if his fingers are drumming against the lip of the wheel involuntarily. “I mean. What the shit’s that all about? He’s a weird kid, I swear.” 

“Frankie,” you laugh brightly, turning once again to look wistfully out of the window, as the view of the beach house and the ocean recedes into the distance. You catch another glimpse of yourself in the pane, and this time you look younger, you think. More alive. “Did I ever tell you about that night in Philadelphia?”

[mistergandalf]

ULTIMATE TOLKIEN BLORBO MASTERPOST

Who is THE blorbo of the Tolkien fandom here on tumblr dot com? Let's find out!

What are the criteria for voting?

What is a blorbo to you? As Aragorn would say: What does your heart tell you? Therein lies your answer. For me, it's who I'd like the whump the most. Maybe for you it's who is the most shippable. Maybe it's the one that means the most to you for what they represent. Maybe it's your poor little meow meow (looking at you, Angbang lovers). Let your feelings guide you.

Is this only supposed to be about the books, or is it based on any Tolkien-based media?

This is about blorbos. Wherever you found your blorbo, that's fine. If you want to be a book purist about it, you're valid. If you love Thorin Oakenshield simply because Richard Armitage is hot, you are also valid.

***PLEASE ALSO NOTE that my blog is a Rings of Power positive blog! If you don’t like it that’s fine, but if you post negative comments or reblogs on my posts, I will block you! I don’t want negativity in my activity feed, thank you!***

When will polls be posted?

Polls will be posted daily at 12pm EDT (GMT -4), staggered by 5-10 minutes on each poll. There will be a day between final votes as the data will be needed for the next poll!

Schedule is as follows: (Updated because I’m dumb and didn’t realize how many rounds the second chance bracket has)

4/23 - Round One 4/25 - Round Two (Primary Bracket) 4/26 - Round Two (Second Chance Bracket) 4/27 - Round Three (Primary Bracket) 4/28 - Round Three (Second Chance Bracket) 4/30 - Round Four (Second Chance Bracket) 5/2 - Round Five (Second Chance Bracket) 5/4 - Round Six (Second Chance Bracket) 5/5 - Round Four (Primary Bracket) 5/7 - Round Seven (Second Chance Bracket) 5/9 - Round Eight (Second Chance Bracket) 5/10 - Round Five (Primary Bracket) - decides the finalist 5/12 - Round Nine (Second Chance Bracket) - decides the finalist 5/14 - FINAL ROUND - THE ULTIMATE TOLKIEN BLORBO

Check the tag #ultimate tolkien blorbo to see new posts! Feel free to share your thoughts in the tag as well!

I have more questions!

Okay, click the readmore then!

Hey! Why did you pair this character with that character?

Because I spent a whole evening googling how tournament brackets work (I am not a sports person) and then I did a lot of math and sorting.

Okay, but I really want to know!

WELL first I thought: "How can I quantify and rank blorbos?" The answer: AO3. I went into the Tolkien fandom general tag and ranked the first 32 characters by the number of fanfics in which they appear.*

Then I split them by story. I roughly kept Hobbit characters with Hobbit characters, LotR with LotR, and Silmarillion with Silmarillion to keep it as fair as possible and give all corners of the fandom a chance to see their blorbo win. Some characters are in multiple sources, like Elrond or Gandalf, so I tried to keep those characters with someone who is probably just as well-known.**

Then I followed the rules the internet told me about how tournaments work. The highest-ranked character goes with the lowest-ranked character, the second-highest with the second-lowest, etc.

And that's how I did it! It was a fantastic way to waste an afternoon.

*I may have eliminated and/or played with a couple options. Some of these characters had fewer fics than the character "OC," which makes sense. I took off Erestor because literally only Glorfindel stans would choose him, and Glorfindel is on here. I also lumped together Elladan and Elrohir because if you can tell them apart, it's because they're both your blorbos. Tolkien did NOT give them distinct personalities. Also if I didn’t lump them together, I wouldn’t be able to fit Celebrimbor, and that would be a shame.

**Characters who appear in multiple stories had their rankings weighted to account for that fact. I got a C in statistics in college, though, so I frankly have no idea if the way I weighted them is correct, nor do I care, because I'm satisfied with how the rankings turned out.

I don’t like how you did this!

Okay, don’t vote then. Nobody’s making you.

FORTH EORLINGAS! Have fun voting! As Gimli would say... May the best Dwarf win! ;)

Round One [results & analysis]

Thorin vs. Bard | Bilbo vs. Dwalin | Kili vs. Gandalf | Fili vs. Thranduil | Legolas vs. Eomer | Aragorn vs. Eowyn | Elrond vs. Elladan & Elrohir | Frodo vs. Merry | Gimli vs. Pippin | Samwise vs. Boromir | Faramir vs. Galadriel | Maedhros vs. Celebrimbor | Maedhros vs. Celebrimbor (RoP free version bc some of you are whiny babies) | Maglor vs. Finrod | Glorfindel vs. Morgoth | Sauron vs. Celegorm | Fingon vs. Feanor

Round Two [results & analysis]

Thorin vs. Bilbo | Legolas vs. Thranduil | Pippin vs. Éowyn | Maglor vs. Frodo | Gandalf vs. Samwise | Elrond vs. Maedhros | Faramir vs. Glorfindel | Sauron vs. Fëanor

Round Two (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Aragorn vs. Elladan & Elrohir | Gimli vs. Morgoth | Merry vs. Bard | Finrod vs. Celegorm | Boromir vs. Kíli | Fíli vs. Celebrimbor | Éomer vs. Galadriel | Fingon vs. Arwen

Round Three [results & analysis]

Bilbo vs. Legolas |  Éowyn vs. Frodo | Samwise vs. Elrond | Faramir vs. Fëanor

Round Three (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Aragorn vs. Gandalf | Gimli vs. Maedhros | Merry vs. Glorfindel | Finrod vs. Sauron | Boromir vs. Thorin | Celebrimbor vs. Thranduil | Éomer vs. Pippin | Arwen vs. Maglor

Round Four (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Aragorn vs. Gimli | Merry vs. Finrod | Boromir vs. Celebrimbor | Pippin vs. Arwen

Round Five (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Aragorn vs. Bilbo | Éowyn vs. Merry | Boromir vs. Elrond | Pippin vs. Fëanor

Round Six (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Aragorn vs. Éowyn | Boromir vs. Pippin

Round Four [results & analysis]

Legolas vs. Frodo | Samwise vs. Faramir

Round Seven (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Éowyn vs. Faramir | Pippin vs. Legolas

Round Eight (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Éowyn vs. Pippin

Round Five [results & analysis]

Frodo vs. Samwise

Round Nine (Second Chance Bracket) [results & analysis]

Éowyn vs. Frodo

FINAL ROUND

Samwise vs. Frodo

[kyojurismo]

hi could i sumbit an emergency rq?

i've been struggling w/ my home situation on and off for a few years, and now it's been going on again for a few months and feel like i can't do shit right lol (nothing too bad luckily!! but its draining ... ig)

could u please write smth abt the reader meeting douma and them going away w him?

whisk me awaay douma!! lmao

pls give other emergency requests priority if u so wish! i'm alrdy happy w looking forward to smth heh 💞

# douma (upper tank two)

tags : gn!reader, douma not eating a human 🫢, he’s sweet alright, lemme know if i missed something, not proofread as always.

a/n : hello anon! i genuinely like this req hehe ^_^ i know it’s short ( and it prob doesn’t make any sense and it’s pure shit ) but i hope you’ll enjoy it anyway <3

it was rare for douma to wander around too much

but he got bored so there he was

you were running into the woods that night, before bumping into something

“oh dear, are you alright?” the moment you met his face you noticed the way he was grinning at you, his fangs on full display. his eyes looked strange, but you like how colourful they were. of course you didn’t know about demons hehe

“do you know how to speak?” douma tilted his head to the side, looking at you with pity. “yes, sir…”

the tone of your voice was soothing

“tell me, where are you going all alone in the night?”

you explained why you were running and all, douma seemed to genuinely care about your situation and proposed to come with him at the paradise cult

lowkey would have done so anyway, lol

like not kidnapping but probably gaslighting you into believing it was best for you and what you really wanted

anyway .

douma told you everything about him and his cult, but didn’t mention him being a demon

[ manga readers — me — be shaking rn ]

he promised to protect you

to provide for your every need

basically to take care of you

OH! he spoiled you, of course

you were his darling

he spent 24/7 with you

literally dragged about how he saved you from your past life to his disciples

he was very proud of it ngl

he would fall in love with you at some point but never realise it lol

but i believe he would genuinely care for you and would never think about harming you or anything

you eventually found out he’s a demon, but he never confessed what was on his diet [ women ], he just said “i don’t eat the same food as you,” smirk smirk

we don’t care alright, it was his business so we’re gonna ignore everything about it

reblogs & comments are super appreciated! thank you for taking your time reading it, i hope you enjoyed it. have a good day / night <3

[inklore]

crimson and clover.

part one | next part | series masterlist

premise: maybe you shouldn’t get high with eddie again but you can’t get him off of your mind, and his lips are too inviting to fight the growing addiction you’re succumbing to from the things he can do with them.

pairing: eddie munson x richgirl!reader

word count: 7k

warnings: eighteen+ content, porn with plot, f receiving oral, fingering, a touch of voyeurism, weed smoking, virgin!eddie, teasing and banter, soft dirty talk, alluded blowjob, jealousy mention, cheesy fluff, shitty parentals.

etc: i’m literally obsessed with these two to the point of insanity!! like i’m not usually that much of a plot heavy girly but buckle up besties we in deep <3.

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

It’s quite embarrassing, excruciatingly taxing, vexing and every other big word that you could remember and barely comprehend—but now are having a grave first-hand experience with—from those Jane Austen books you had to read in class.

Every ten sellable verb, feeling, pretext; all of them describing the exact state of your mind right now, and how superficial it made you feel. Aforementioned: excruciating, embarrassing.

A week has gone by since the night you spent with Eddie, and it’s all you find yourself thinking about.

Your mind plays a constant loop reel of everything that happened; the giggles, the kiss, the…other thing. At night when you want to sleep your mind is too busy thinking about whether or not Eddie’s thinking about it too, what happened. Or if he’s out bragging to his friends—something you have your doubts about. The two of you hadn’t discussed if this was an under-wraps kind of thing, it was probably common knowledge you wouldn't want it to be spread all over town. Which it would be, like wildfire.

None of your friends have called you to belittle you yet, so you doubt he’s told anyone.

But was it plaguing his mind as pathetically as it was yours? Or were you just so starved for decent human interaction that your mind was holding onto this one night like it was an aphrodisiac?

Maybe if you had received a call from him you wouldn’t be acting so…mortifyingly in your feelings for god knows why.

"Will we be graced with your presence across the tracks again, princess?" He had asked when he pulled up a block down from your house, not trusting his loud engine to not wake up your parents—or at the very least a neighbor who would see and then go running to your parents about the strange man they saw you with. It wasn’t a mess you wanted to deal with.

"Don't call me that." You had groaned, undoing your seatbelt and hiding your smile by biting the inside of your cheek. You hadn’t thought past this night, were still too busy rolling off that high from smoking and having Eddie against your mouth…inside of your mouth.

And maybe it was his smile, his thumb tapping on the steering wheel, eyes flashing to your mouth and back up like he didn’t know if he was allowed to kiss you again, or if he should.

But you reached across the dash and grabbed the pen randomly rested atop of it, leaned over to pull his hand from the wheel, and wrote your number on top of it.

"Don't call before six or after midnight.” You let your smile spread, threw the pen back on the dash, and opened the passenger door hopping out. “See you around, Munson.”

That was seven days ago and counting.

Never-ending counting.

It’s not like you expected him to call. You figured he probably wouldn’t, the two of you were not about to become best friends just because he cleaned your shoes, or let you smoke his weed, or because he came in your mouth. You didn’t—shouldn’t—have any expectations from Munson and you were sure he had none from you.

History didn’t make you friends. Sharing weed or an incredible kiss didn’t either.

So it wasn’t a big deal he hadn’t called.

And yet as you sit at one of the pristine white table cloth tables of the Country Club, your parents on either side of you, your fingers playing with the straw of your drink; you’re wondering if he’s called.

You’re so hyper-focused on that thought, of the thought of that stupid smile that you can’t shut your eyes without seeing—that you don’t hear your mother speaking to you until the words “I heard you two broke up” are spat through the air.

Reality crashes down on you, and you can’t help the grimace that flashes across your lips. Word really does spread like wildfire in this town. You hadn’t expected your parents to find out until at least a few weeks—or never, a girl could dream. Enough time for you to come up with an excuse at least, anything but the truth. Which would be nothing but unacceptably unrealistic to them.

“He’s not a good-”

“I didn’t ask for your feelings on the matter.” Your mother interrupts. Scowls down at the martini glass in her hand. “Fix it. You’re both going to the same college, a college your father called in many favors just to get you in. Since you couldn’t do it on your own.” Her last words are mumbled, snappy, and hurtful as always. “His parents run in the same social circle as us and could do wonders for your father's business. Don’t ruin this for yourself over girlish feelings.”

Your throat feels tight, constricted, suffocated. Your fingers have dropped from your straw to grip the end of your white pleated skirt under the table. You know even if you told your mother the full story, how you truly felt, how you’ve been with him since sophomore year and neither of you have even muttered the words ‘I love you’. And don’t think you ever will. Would.

Or how last year over spring break the two of you broke up for a month and you had felt more rejuvenated than any hundred-dollar spa treatment ever could. As if you had peeled off a deadweight and could finally feel something other than the caked-on layers of presser that were endlessly put onto you by him, by them.

Then he came back and said the same thing your mother did “don’t ruin this for us” when he had been the one to leave you. And you’d done the stupid thing and said yes. As the two of you kissed and made up your mind searched for the why, the how, the what-the-fuck-were-you doing.

And now with your mother's words as fresh as a reopened wound reminding you of the memory, you know you said yes because of her. Your father. Their need to seem so disgustingly perfect on the outside, to hide how ugly they were on the inside.

Were you as ugly as them?

The question makes your knee bounce, knuckles straining from the grip on your skirt.

Your mothers already moved on from you, talking to the friend at her side. Smiling, keeping that perfect crown in place. Turning towards your father you hope to see a sympathetic look, some wise words—wasn’t that what fathers were supposed to do? Wise words and comfort? But he’s not even looking at you, too busy laughing at something the man beside him has said.

You need to get out of here. Go home and scream into your pillow or something.

Standing from the table, a little too quickly. The legs of your chair screeching against the hardwood, your father finally looks at you.

“Everything alright?” A monologue of how everything is the farthest thing from being alright in the back of your throat and ready to be screamed. But then you can feel your mother's eyes on you, don’t have to turn to see her look of impassiveness to know it’s there.

“Yeah,” you give them both your best performed smile. “Just going to do what mom said, fix it.”

Your lie only gets you a hum from said woman and then she’s done with you and turning her head. Your dad gives you the weakest of smiles and asks if you need any money—for no reason at all. Shaking your head you quickly bid them goodbye and do your best walk-sprint out of the building.

The hot summer night air a welcome humidity from the suffocation you felt in there.

You have your parent's driver take you home. Screw your ex and screw your parents.

If your mother wanted him to be in your family so bad maybe she should drop her Pilates instructor and have him instead. It would take a hefty price—that you were sure your parents would gladly pay to get you to shut up and listen to them—to ever bring yourself to his front door and beg for him back.

You didn’t beg. For anyone. Over anything.

You asked. You got. Demanded. Sometimes you didn’t even need to ask. You were just given to. Your bank account and school career showed as much.

Fuck, maybe you were the Princess of Hawkins after all.

You start in a small sprint up the stairs to your room, your throat still feeling as if it’s being squeezed by your mother's words, indifference towards you, demands. Even with her not around you feel like you’re being suffocated by her.

You really shouldn’t have come back home.

Not for the summer. Not anytime. Should have just stuck to the one call a month and check in the mail. Life was more peaceful that way. At least you could breathe.

It was going to be one hell of a long, torturous summer.

“Someone called for you!”

You hear just as your foot lands on the last step. Your heart leaping in your chest as you turn and yell down, “who?”

“They didn’t say.” Your family housekeeper appears at the bottom of the stairs, a small smile on her face. “But they did leave their number and said to call them if you needed help on biology or something like that.” She shakes her head, “could barely understand them. There was loud music in the background.”

Eddie.

The grin that spreads across your lips is demeaning to your social status. Same with the way your heart feels like it’s pumping from your stomach now as you run back down the stairs and take the number from her, only to run back up them and to your room; dialing the number into the pink phone beside your bed, pacing the floor as you wait, hope, shamefully pray that he answers.

On the fifth ring he answers and when his voice floods through the phone when you hear the “shit-hold on” as he turns down the music blaring in the background, you feel like you can finally breathe again. No more tight throat. Suffocating. The only thing you feel now is that familiar giddy ache in your cheeks.

“Biology huh?”

You can hear the puff of air Eddie lets out from realizing it’s you, from the smile that you can tell is on his face when he speaks through the receiver, “I thought telling her I was ‘the weed guy’ would be worse, town freak was my second option.”

"Munson, it's summer no one's doing biology!"

“Incorrect. Summer school is a prison sentence I have had the displeasure of being sentenced to.” Of course, he has. You can’t help the laugh that comes out, one he joins in on.

There’s a silence that spreads where you can hear him fiddling with something on the other line.

And then he’s saying, “is the Princess busy or can she step away from the castle, and grace us, peasants, with her presence?"

You’re smiling again, fuck.

“She could, but I don't know, she might need payment." You say in your best uppity voice, flopping back on your bed. Your fingers coiling and uncoiling the cord hanging from the phone.

"Drats! Right when I’m out of gold doubloons too."

“Oooh, and I only take gold, looks like the peasants must go un-graced today.”

"Would thy majesty take my humble payment of the best weed in the county instead?" He puts on his best historically accurate voice that has you snorting.

“That’s very presumptuous of you to say it's the best."

"Did I say the best? Sorry, I meant the greatest.”

God, you despised how nice this felt. How the muscles in your cheeks were already sore and you hadn’t even been talking to him for more than five minutes. How you can’t remember someone calling you and it being like this, no gossip, no hounding questions or accusations.

Oh, how the normal half lives.

"I'll meet you where you dropped me off the other night, okay?"

"Your chariot will be waiting, princess."

When Eddie picks you up and the two of you fly across town, sharing silent smiles, the town passing in the rear view, heavy metal blaring throughout the speakers—that he doesn’t turn down until his van comes to a stop through a wooded clearing, in front of a familiar lake.

Lovers Lake.

"Really, Munson? Trying to get lucky again?" You tease, a cheeky grin covered up by him laughing behind the hair that moves in his face as he undoes his seatbelt and moves to the back of the van.

You follow him into the back, sitting on the van floor. Eddie on the sofa, much like the last night the two of you were together. Except now you’re sitting with your legs crossed out in front of you, back against one of the walls of the van.

You let him do his thing of pulling out the metal box and rifling through it while he finds what he needs. Occupying your time with looking at the newly added amps and wires that weren’t there the other night.

"What's your band called again?"

"Corroded Coffin.”

You smile remembering him telling you that when you were partnered together. Remember how he drummed his fingers on the desk and air guitared you a silent piece to emphasize how good he swore he could play, how good the band was.

"You should come see us play sometime. If you're into that.” He looks up at you through his bangs, his fingers moving in his lap as he rolls the joint.

You give the tiniest smirk as you say, “like a date?”

His shoulders are shrugging, ringed fingers scratching his cheek. “If a grimy bar and drunk geezers falling off their barstools is your ideal date then yes. Absolutely.” You share a smile and then he’s going back to his task at hand.

When he’s finished rolling, and after you’re done eyeballing him: watching how his fingers work along the rolling papers, those damn rings distracting you, and finding yourself at a loss for words when you watch him bring it to his lips and run his tongue along the seam to close it.

You were here to get away. To kill time. To smoke. Nothing else.

What happened the other night should stay a one time thing. With how your insides keep acting up from the mere thought of it. This was dangerous territory already.

"Your payment, princess." Eddie holds out the freshly rolled joint, doing a little bowing motion as he does. Making you laugh and playfully snatch it from his fingers.

Bringing it to your lips, he pulls out a lighter from the front pocket of his jeans. Leaning forward he flicks it and holds it to the other end, lighting it for you. His eyes on yours as you forget to inhale for half a second, too busy staring back at him. The thick smoke almost making you choke after you’ve come to and inhale; an intensity holding between your gazes.

He’s so close, if you were to remove the joint you could lean in and….

Nope. Not happening. Not tonight.

You quickly move back over to your spot and take a few puffs, praying that it chills whatever tempestuous feelings were burning in your lower belly right now.

The two of you fall into an easy rotation, puffing, passing, Eddie making a joke and you losing it. A peaceful cycle that soon has you forgetting about the earlier events of the day and how you had felt; your nerves now lax, body feeling good. And not just because of the weed, but because of the boy sitting in front of you.

A fact you let yourself feel.

The only thing you allow yourself to feel.

You’re tapping your foot mindless against the bottom of the couch to the metal playing through the van, ignoring the friction it causes against the pant leg of Eddie’s jeans; his leg pressed against yours as the two of you have your limbs spread out.

Your fingers are flipping through a random magazine you’ve found in one of the many piles of junk on the floor. “Who sings this?”

"Corroded Coffin.”

Your head snaps up a little too fast giving you whiplash, as you look up at him—he’s already staring back, how long has he been watching? And have your cheeks always been this warm, or is the thought that he had possibly been watching you for god knows how long that’s making you feel overheated right now?

“This is your band?!”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “I don't see any blood coming from your ears so I take it your majesty approves?"

You make a face, shrugging. "I was swallowing down my vomit actually, was trying to hide it with being nice."

“Mmm.” He replies, his hair covering his smile as he fiddles with the chain connected to his jeans.

It’s an effort to pull your eyes away from him and go back to flipping through the magazine—as if you were doing anything other than looking at the pictures. Your high mind having very little comprehension of the words printed across the flimsy papers.

That comfortable silence spreads between the two of you again, your foot going back to its tapping. Your head doing a little bob along with the beat.

“Was that a jive I just saw?”

Your movements stop, “a jive?” The snort of laughter that comes deep from within your throat should be embarrassing. If it were anyone else in front of you you know you’d do everything in your power to cover it up.

“Who says that?”

“I know many people who say it.”

“Are they 80 and over?”

Eddie shakes his head, his laugh dying down. “You like it, the music?”

“I’ve heard worse.” You shrug nonchalantly. Close the magazine and toss it back in its pile of junk.

“I’ll take it!” His fist pumping in the air in triumph.

Shaking your head you send an eye roll his way. Your heart doing a little leap in your just at how cute you think he looks right now. Your mind working overtime to hone in on the little things that light up his features when he smiles or laughs—and then the little things that don’t matter at all: like how this is your second time here and the first he had scurried around and tried to move his random messes out of the way, to clean it up. But this time around he didn’t even bother, as if a comfortability has already grown between the two of you. You hadn’t run for the hills, already knew what he was about, that this van was a second home to him by the looks—and he knew you wouldn’t care what it looked like. Hadn’t made a fuss the first time so why not let you see him more in his realm?

It makes a weird affection burn in your gut and has you toying with the bottom of your skirt to distract yourself from it.

Just listen to the music. The band. It’s pretty good.

Which isn’t shocking to you in the slightest. It only took you all your school career, and give or take a few years, to realize that Eddie Munson was a lot of things but mediocre was not one of them.

But your mind is racing a mile a minute, unlike the first time, you smoked Eddie’s stash. Which meant that you were the problem, the issue causing your mind to run from the blissful high into difficult feelings and misunderstandings of said feelings.

Go figure.

Your legs are still touching each other. You can feel the bare minimum of his heat against your legs, but it’s enough to add flashbacks of the other night into the mix of your mind. How you could feel the heat from other parts of his body; under you, beside you, against you, inside your mouth.

The tender skin of your bottom lip quickly becomes raw from your teeth, as the memories bombard you. As you grow warmer and warmer. And make the mistake of looking up at him, watching him, staring at him—and then he’s catching you doing just that and you have the urge to ask him if he’s thought about you sense that night, or why he hadn’t called sooner.

Questions with obvious answers.

But your mind is working against you here.

And the last thing you want him to think is that you’re just sitting at home waiting for him to call. Like you’re desperate for it, begging for it. Something you do not do. And was not about to start for Eddie Munson.

“Did you have plans later?” He asks.

Making your brows come together, a confused look on your face as you wonder if you’ve missed something. If he spoke before this and you just didn’t hear because of your internal war.

“The outfit,” he points with a finger, “it’s chic.” A lopsided grin pulls up the corners of his mouth just as you laugh.

“Chic?” You shake your head, “I was at the Country Club with my parents.”

“And you let me steal you away from such fun with the other royals? Honored." His hand splays over his chest.

You make a face, “my mother thinks I’m crawling on my hands and knees back to lover boy." You drop the same nickname Eddie had the other night for your ex, seeing his expression change from it. His smile faltering, fingers brushing at a few loose strands of hair in his face.

“Are you?”

“If I was, would I be here with you?"

"Maybe you needed some devil induced bravery to help you crawl."

"I wouldn't waste a good high on him,” you scoff.

Eddie’s silent for a second too long for your sanity and then he’s saying, “instead you're here wasting it on me."

"It's not a waste.” The words slip out. Come out so naturally that you don’t realize how sentimental of a meaning they have until you see Eddie’s expression. See the softness of it, and how you cannot bear the way your insides feel right now.

What’s the worst thing that can happen from you hooking up with Munson again?

“At least it doesn't have to be.." you’re pulling at your skirt again, can’t bring your eyes up to his as the words hang in the air—an invitation.

"Hitting on me now, princess?” His leg pushes into yours playfully, “who knew you could be so flattering. So charitable.” He teases.

You only look up to scowl at him, because you were not hitting on him—maybe, not really, you didn’t hit on people, you were hit on. But like many things around Munson it had changed, morphing itself into something you don't recognize; something better. You are going to tell him as much, flaunt your Princess status tenfold. But can’t stop looking into his big brown eyes, can’t stop the burning in your stomach going lower lower until it turns into that same lust you felt for him the other night.

And fuck it.

You’ve already dipped your toe over that line once, mine as well put your whole foot in.

"Shut up, Munson.” Your retort is less ice than it is fire, a breathy huff that you mean to sound playful but miss the mark. “Come here,” you hesitate. "Please.”

The beam that spreads across his face is anything but subtle or shy, promptly dropping down to his knees and crawling the short distance to you. A position he stays in even as he brings his lips to yours.

The kiss, his lips, his fingertips at the side of your neck just as heart stopping and pulsating-ly devastating to your insides as last time. A pang of jealousy shoots through your belly at the thought of how many girls he has kissed before you, he’s had to have kissed a couple, a handful maybe, you weren’t this good at kissing if you hadn’t. Kisses didn’t just feel like this, normally. Right?

Or maybe you just weren’t kissing the right people. Person.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to move into the realm of breathless pants and tongues against each other, teeth biting into lips. And unlike last time Eddie doesn’t need an invitation to touch you; his hands go from your neck to your cheeks, your jaw, chin, the back of your skull, and into your hair. The tips of his fingers making a road map of every sensitive spot above your collarbone.

Eventually, thanks to some maneuvering and awkward giggles the two of you are laid on the floor of the van—you on your back, Eddie on his side with his front pressed flush against you. His lips have veered from yours, leaving a path of kisses and nips along your jaw, under it, to your neck where he runs his tongue along a sensitive spot of skin, his lips wrapping around it to suck softly and then sink his teeth into.

A breathy gasp strangled out of you, your hips moving against the air. An imprint of Eddie smirking against your skin from the noise, left behind when he kisses just below the area. Fuck.

“How many–” you swallow, lick your lips, breathless, “how many girls have you kissed like this?”

It’s probably not the right thing to ask right now, but your mind keeps going back to it. That jealousy making your stomach sink as you anticipate his answer, as you dread and wish your body and brain were working together instead of on separate plains of pain and pleasure.

“Uh, a dozen obviously.” He laughs softly against you when you dig your nails into his arm playfully, in replace of the scowl you’d shoot him down with if you could turn your head—or if you wanted him to stop the knee shaking presses of his lips right now, which you’re delirious but not that delirious to stop him. “Only you, princess.”

The information shouldn’t have you soaring any more than you already are, shouldn’t make those jealousy twists get snuffed out by a belly full of butterflies, and flutters that go all the way down to your throbbing clit. But it does and you’re reeling at the sentiment that you’re probably Eddie’s first everything in this sense. In this realm.

It’s not triumph you feel, it’s something softer and dangerously close to affection and attachment that has no business filling your chest with warmth right now.

And instead of feeling the aforementioned feelings, distracting yourself with giving him pleasure—and to hear those beautiful noises from the other night—your hand is moving from his arm to the bulge pressing to your hip.

Your fingers and palm run up his clothed length and pull those delicious breathy grunts from him. No man should sound this good, no sound should have you feeling like you’re melting into the floor.

Your mouth finding Eddie’s in a hungry kiss, a need to swallow down his noises like a drug, needing sedation. You could get addicted to this if you’re not careful.

Your fingers drag themselves up to his belt, try to blindly pull the leather through its buckle, the loops. And just like a repeat of the night before, his hand is there to stop you.

“Gotten shy on me?” You ask with a coyness that makes him give you a ‘not in this lifetime’ look.

“I just want to make it crystal clear that I didn’t bring you here for this.” His tone only holds gentleness, his hand bringing yours up to his mouth to brush a few kisses across your knuckles.

“Even if you did,” your fingers twist a strand of his hair, “I wouldn’t be upset.”

And you mean that. If Eddie had only brought you here for a replay of the other night or something further than that, you know—even if it was against your better judgment—you wouldn’t be too upset about it, or at all. It was hard to be upset with lips like his pulling out smiles and whimpers from you.

But it also means that Eddie had called you because he wanted to see you, to hang out…which is harder for you to grasp than the prospect of only casual hookups between the two to you.

Those Jane Austen feelings back with a vengeance in your chest cavity.

Your answer makes a chuckle echo in his chest. “But,” he’s looking at you with all seriousness within those doe eyes. “Now that we’re–” he motions to your current positions with his hand, “here. I want to return the favor. For the other night.”

Oh?

Oh.

Pressing your lips together, you do your best to hide the excitement that shoots up your spine, nodding in a super-casual-not-too-fast way. “Yeah, okay, yes, totally.”

“Totally?” He mocks you, smirking.

“Totally.”

Then his lips are on yours again without needing further confirmation. The kiss slower this time compared to the last lip lock that made your bottom lip feel like it was inflamed from his teeth. Your mouths move in perfect sync, and if you could figure out a way you know you could get off by just his kiss alone. He moves your hand back to his crotch, giving you back access to his hardness as his hand begins its travel down your chest. Palming your boobs over your white polo, his thumb moving across your nipple, making you whimper. Your chest pushing up into him.

The closer he gets—the further his fingers move along the fabric of your clothes—the anticipation of where you want him, where he wants to be, makes your legs pull together. Thighs in a tight lock, your attempted relief of the pressure on your clit only makes the throbbing worse. You can feel how soaked you are through the cotton of your panties, know that once you feel his fingers slip inside of you it’s going to be game over.

There's a whoosh of air against your thighs from Eddie pushing up the top of your skirt, putting your clothed pussy on display for him. His mouth pulling from yours as he looks down at you and takes you in. The hunger in his eyes turning the brown hues in them black. You’re about to ask him if he wants you to take your underwear off, his fingers slipping past the elastic of them stopping you. His palm warm against your mound.

Eddie runs his middle finger through your folds, voice low and gravelly when he says. “You’re so wet.” All you can do is mewl, bite your already raw lip as you try to keep your hips still, try to hold yourself back from fucking his hand the way you want to. His fingers explore you for a bit, misstepping your throbbing clit each time the tips of his fingers come close to it. Even as you finally let yourself move your hips a fraction of an inch up, he’s still not touching the spot you really need, instead, he’s moving every place you don’t need him. Until he slips a finger inside of you too aggressively, making an “ahh” hiss out of you.

Your face scrunched when he turns to look down at you, halting his actions. Body tense, “did I hurt you?”

He’s never done this before, it’s not new knowledge and yet thanks to your hormone filled haze—and the need to come—you were expecting him to know all the places to touch. To not be as aggressively pushy right from the get-go.

“No,” you sigh, laughing softly. “Sort of, just…can I show you?” You’re nervous he’s going to take it the wrong way. That this is where it’s going to end because it'll be awkward and he’ll be embarrassed or mad or something.

But there you go thinking Eddie is one thing when he’s the exact opposite. The endless surprise of this boy never ceasing to show you why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover—or by its fellow shitty townspeople.

Eddie nods, eyes soft and tentatively looking at you in the same way an excited student looks thrilled to learn from a teacher.

Wasting no time you loop your fingers into the elastic of the cotton covering your pussy, pulling the garment down your legs and tossing it to the side. Moving comfortably back into your lying position, skirt still pushed up, completely showcasing yourself to him. A flutter sinking low into your belly when you watch Eddie’s throat bob from a tight swallow as he looks down at your wet cunt.

And while he watches, stares at you, you’re staring up at him. Watching the hunger and desire to learn—to be taught—displaying itself across his face; your hand moves between your legs, the pad of your index finger putting the lightest of pressers on your clit. The moan you let out has Eddie’s hair falling in your face for half a second as his eyes snap to your face. As he watches your mouth part, brows come together, breaths shaky and weak as you touch yourself. Rubbing slow circles against your throbbing clit, where you wanted, needed to feel him. Where you’ve been throbbing and aching for what felt like hours—days—for him.

His fingers dig into your thigh as he spreads your legs wider, holding it up and against him below your knee so you’re completely open for him. So he can see you run your fingers down between your folds to catch the gathering arousal at your entrance and pull it back up to coat your clit.

You should be talking right now, should be directing him with your words, but you can’t. Have never touched yourself in front of anyone before, never had to, or wanted to. The act of touching yourself strictly permitted for when you were alone in your room at night. Never like this. But you’ve been convinced. Turned over a new leaf in the things you like, enjoy; the way Eddie is watching your fingers, the way he brings his gaze back up so fucking slow to look at your face. To hold eye contact with you as you moan and tremble. That mounting pressure already starting, so fast, so good.

Eddie leans into the small distance of space between your mouths to swallow down one of your moans that comes out at the same time his lips press to yours. “You’re so pretty.” He whispers between kisses. “How many guys have you let watch you like this?”

You whimper, breath hot on his mouth, “none. Only you.”

He’s grinning against your mouth, “you do this at night when you’re alone in your bed?”

“Yes.” Humming, you feel breathless, can feel your hips gyrating against your hand, legs trembling. Know you’re so close. But don’t want to make yourself come. Want Eddie to be the one to make you come, want his fingers to be inside of you when your walls constrict and carry you through that euphoric high.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, princess.” His head lifts back up to look back down at your pussy, the wet sounds of your arousal against your finger and clit filthy.

Have you ever been this wet before? This turned on? Fuck, Eddie Munson.

Without thinking—reeling off of your own need—you grab his hand that's still holding your leg to him. “Put your hand over mine.” Following directions eagerly Eddie does so, places his searing palm atop yours, his index finger resting perfectly against yours; moving along as you go back to stroking your clit. “Like this, slow–ahh–circles.” The last syllables of your words choked out over a moan. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, know you’re probably making a mess on the makeshift carpeting below you.

He copies your movements for one, three, six circles and then you’re snaking your hand away and it’s his finger on your clit. The change in feeling is instantaneous and has your hips stuttering, whines coming out weaker. Your hand gripping the material of his shirt, needing to ground yourself. To remind you that yes, this is reality and not some crazy out of body wet dream.

“Like that?” Eddie asks against your cheek.

“Yes.” You don’t think your moans have ever sounded this wailing, this intense to the point where you’re almost embarrassed at how good you feel right now. How your body is shaking and mewling and reaching out for him for pleasure. In need of it.

This time when he slips a finger into you it’s slow, so good and gentle as he pumps it inside of you, that amplifies the squelching of your wetness. “This okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

He fucks you like that, his middle finger fucking up into you, his thumb brushing against your clit at just the right angle that has you on the verge of seeing stars. You’re so so close, know that if he keeps doing that you’re going to be a goner–

“Wait, what are you doing?” Your brows pull up in confusion as you watch him detach himself from your side, removing his hand from between your thighs. Settling himself between your legs on his knees.

You expect him to start undoing his belt, figure he’s ready to take it further, aren't mad at the thought—but he’s surprising you again. “You got to taste, it’s only fair, princess.” Eddie smirks, situates himself in a comfortable hunching position, and then you’re gasping as he runs the tip of his tongue along your clit. Any rebuttal you could have thought to reply with dead in the water.

“Fuck, Eddie,” there are no missteps like the first time he was down there with his hand. Mimicking the movements you showed him with your fingers with his tongue, with a few added experimental licks and sucks that have your breath caught in your throat. “Ohmygod, and you’ve never done this before?” You curse, feel a breathy laugh fall across your clit. One, then another, finger slipping into you moving in tandem with his tongue.

Only one other guy has gone down on you and it was not as nearly intense or agonizing pleasurable as this—to the point where your thighs are closing in around his head, hands in his hair. Back arching. You feel like a woman crazed, like you had no idea you could feel this searing, pleasure this good.

You mean to say something, to warn him, to say any words that you can dredge up from the crevice of your dysfunctional brain; but all you can do is scream as you come against his mouth, as your pussy convulses around his fingers. Your hips rolling up into him, thighs shaking, body spasming as his name falls from your lips like a sinful prayer.

“Munson,” you whine, pulling at his chin once you’ve come down enough to function. Once you can finally see something other than the white bursts of light across your vision. Eddie’s tongue still running along your sensitive clit to the point of oversensitivity, that you have to pull him up.

His chin and cheeks are damp, bangs pressed to his forehead. Find yourself laughing at his tousled hair—no thanks to your fingers. There’s a cheshire grin stretched across his face as he runs the back of his hand over his mouth. Crawling up your body to hover over you and kiss you, a whimper coming from your throat as you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Wow.” You breathe, smile over at him as he rolls back to his side beside you. A palm resting over where your heart is still beating a mile a minute.

“I’ll take it.” Your laughs are in unison as a look of triumph flashes in those big eyes.

“If only you were that much of an eager learner in school, might have graduated, joined me on the road to success.” You pick.

“Not even seconds after I make her come and she’s already wounding me.” His chuckle muffled by the press of another kiss to your lips. “Better than lover boy?” Eddie teases.

“Can’t compare something that never happened.”

He makes a disgusted noise from the back of his throat, “no wonder you left him for the steerage.”

You hum nodding, turning your head to the side to press a kiss to his throat. Would it be too sentimental of you to tell him that he’s better than anyone you’ve been with? That no one has ever made you come that hard, not even yourself. That you can feel your wetness rolling down your ass cheeks and inner thighs from how wet he made you.

It could be a mood killer, sentiment isn't even your thing.

Plus it’s his turn now. Fair’s fair right?

There’s no complaint from Eddie as you move on top of him, roll your hips against his hardness, the seam of his jeans making you shudder from still feeling over-sensitive, as you move down the length of his body to rid him of his jeans and take him into your mouth.

“Here.” There’s a cassette tape gripped in his hand, the back of his head resting on the headrest of the driver's seat. You’re parked in the same spot he picked you up earlier, a block from your house. “Since you liked it so much,” he smiles.

Sentiment. Fuck.

Your smile is too cheesy and girlish for you to wrap any logistics into your head about it just being a tape, as you take it from and see his band name in black marker at the top. Your stomach fluttering. A simple gift that's not a big deal. You have to remind yourself as you try not to lean over and kiss him on that beautiful mouth of his.

“Here,” you say as you pull off your underwear and drop them into his lap. “A gift for a gift.”

You don’t let yourself stick around to see the heart-palpating look in his eyes as he grips the fabric in his hand and laughs, shouting “gold doubloons could never compare!” out of the open window. Making you press a finger to your lips, shooting daggers at him through the windshield as you pick up the pace towards your house. Trying to quiet your giggles and wipe the big girlish grin on your face.

[tom-whore-dleston]

🎁 please bestie 🫶😫🫠

Safer with You

Pairing: !bodyguard Oscar Isaac x !actress f. reader

Genre: angst and smut (lemon)

Warnings: yandere themes, stalking, fake dating, smoking, confessions, protective Oscar :'), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lotus position, sorta soft dom Oscar, creampie

Summary: You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't help falling for your bodyguard, especially when he makes your safety and happiness a priority.

Word Count: 2.1k so much for a quick fic 💀

Notes: I had so many ideas for this fic but I really liked the bodyguard au that I found here. It's not as smutty as I anticipated it to be but it's there I stg 😅 I literally wrote this all in one night and a lil of today so there may be a few mistakes, just pretend they're not there lol. Thank you to my bestie love, @wint3r-h3art for sending me Oscar's sexy ass to my inbox and giving me thots 😛 I love you hehe 😘 Remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed what you read 😊

*Part of my 23rd birthday celebration which is now CLOSED. Thanks again for taking part in my special day!

You heard the saying so many times: “Fame always comes with a price.” That phrase didn’t settle in until you were met with a stalker.

This person knew everything there was to know about you. They knew your full name. No, not the name you chose for Hollywood, your birth name. They also knew the names of all your family members and friends. They always knew about your whereabouts just so they could randomly run into you while grabbing brunch with friends or grocery shopping with your sister and her son.

The thing that made you sick to your stomach was when you received a text from an unknown number. Full of curiosity, you opened the text, a video of you turning off the light to your bedroom with a message that wrote:

“Sweet dreams, my shining star 😘”

Since receiving the eerie text message, you lived your life in constant fear. You decided to stay with your parents for a while, your dad driving you to your shoots. If you weren’t on set for your upcoming movie, you locked yourself in your childhood room, sobbing into the tummy of your stuffed animals until you fell asleep. Worried about your well-being and career, your team hired a bodyguard so you could resume your life in Hollywood. And that was how you met your personal bodyguard, Oscar Isaac.

Oscar was one of the best bodyguards in the business. He was dedicated to his work, especially since your team was paying him plenty to protect you. He learned the names of all your family members, friends, co-stars, and anyone that interacted with you often enough in case they were also in danger too. Your team didn’t want to make it obvious that they hired a bodyguard, but to explain why Oscar would be with you all the time, they suggested that you and Oscar pose as a couple.

Fortunately, everyone believed the facade you and Oscar put on. The press talked about you both nonstop. Your friends called you to fawn over how lucky you were to have snagged someone as hot as Oscar. Your co-stars congratulated your new “relationship” with a hug or pat on the back. The only people that knew the truth were your parents and your sister. They were happy that you were safer and not living in fear.

In fact, you felt a weight come off your shoulders after Oscar came into your life. You no longer felt scared or sad. Not only did his presence give you a sense of safety, but it also gave you comfort. The more time you spent together, the more you got to know him on a personal level. You knew it was wrong, but you found yourself developing a deep admiration for him.

One night, you tossed and turned in your queen sized bed. Even though you haven’t had any encounters with the stalker in a month, the thought of them coming back haunted you in the dead of night. After trying every tactic in the book to fall back asleep, you jumped out of bed and walked out of your room.

Entering the kitchen, you poured a glass of water until you spotted a figure standing on your balcony. Your heart thumped in your chest as you stepped closer towards the silhouette. You sighed loudly as the figure dropped their hand to the side, a puff of smoke appearing in the dark sky. Oscar spun around, meeting your sullen eyes. Joining his side on the balcony, you both stared off into the moonlight.

“Rough night?” Oscar asked, offering you a cigarette.

“Hmm, I wonder what gave it away,” You sarcastically blurted, popping the cigarette in your mouth. As he lit your cigarette, you gazed into his brown eyes that glimmered against the small flame.

“What’s on your mind?” If you had to pick one flaw he possessed, you would pick how he had a way of changing the subject. You shook your head, taking a hit of the cigarette.

“You thinking about them, huh?”

Tears welled in your eyes. “I’m so tired of being scared. Every time I start to feel like my life is back to normal, these thoughts just come out of nowhere. When will it end?”

Oscar took a hit the same time you did. Aside from the clouds of smoke, silence filled the air as you stood closer to one another. He put out his cigarette on the ashtray before turning towards you.

“It will end, I promise you that. I swear once we catch that son of a bitch, I’ll make sure their life is a living hell.”

“Oh, uhh, that’s not necessary-”

“No, it is extremely necessary. What kind of piece of shit watches someone go to bed from outside their house? I’ve seen cases like this so many times in my career and-” Oscar balled his hands in fists, his veins popping out of his forearms. “Whoever this guy is, they deserve to go to hell.”

You were speechless. You had no idea where any of this was coming from. Maybe it was the burnout of his job. Either way, he wasn’t done.

“You shouldn’t have to be scared of this prick. You should be going out, living your life, being happy. You deserve it. You deserve to be happy. Aside from your safety, your happiness is also a priority.”

Confused by his words, you took another hit of your cigarette, allowing the drug to relax you more. It was moments before you finally said something.

“Thank you for all that. It means a lot hearing those things from you. I can’t thank you enough for-”

Everything flashed before your eyes as Oscar desperately pulled you towards him to kiss you. His lips smashed against yours as he held you tenderly. Your head spun trying to process how the man you had slowly fallen for was now making out with you. Before he could deepen the kiss, Oscar released himself from you. When he noticed the look of perplexity on your face, he cursed under his breath.

“Oh fuck! I’m so sorry. Please forgive me for my lack of professionalism. I’m sorry!” He ran back inside towards the guest room where he had stayed over the past month. You followed shortly after him, but he shut the door in your face. Frustration coursing through your blood, you pried the door open to see him pacing around the room. Oscar apologized again as you strode towards him.

“Don’t be. I wish you had done that sooner.” It felt like deja vu with the way Oscar pressed his lips against yours full of passion. The taste of tobacco danced on both of your tongues, causing you to deepen the kiss. In a matter of seconds, your shirt flew off your body and you mimicked the movement with his shirt. Your bare torsos collided in desperation as you attached your lips once more.

“You want me?” Oscar muttered, lips ghosting over yours. His searing kiss laced with tobacco left you breathless and intoxicated. All you could manage was a half nod. Apparently, that wasn’t enough for him.

“Tell me.” He cupped your jaw with his taut hand. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you, Oscar. I want you so bad.” He pushed you onto the bed, crawling on top of you. His lips attached to your neck, marking your skin with his teeth.

“I’ve never wanted to fuck someone as badly as I want to fuck you right now.”

“Then do it. Fuck me.”

You didn’t need to say anything else before Oscar shed off your sleep shorts and underwear. He groaned, relishing your naked body that he dreamt of for nights. His fingertips trailed over your skin. Shivers crept up your spine the further down his hand traveled. You held your breath as his fingers stopped a centimeter above where you wanted him most. Oscar glanced back at you, and you spread your legs in approval.

The corner of his mouth curved slightly before he tested his middle finger against your folds. You gasped and lifted your hips off the bed as your wetness enveloped his digit. Intense desire washed over him as he plunged his finger inside you. Your face scrunched in wanton, feeling him explore your cavern.

“Ahh, yes, feels so good.” Your hums drove him to insert another finger, pumping further to brush against that sweet spot. The way you moaned his name made his cock twitch in his sweatpants. He started palming himself through the thin material, fingering you until he hilted at his knuckles. Watching his fingers disappear inside you unleashed something in him. Something he has never felt with any woman.

Oscar let out an animalistic growl before stooping down to wrap his mouth around your engorged clit. You yelped as his beard scraped against your sensitive area. The sensation unlocked a new type of pleasure for you and you were addicted to his scruff between your legs. You raked your hands through his hair, clutching it as he sucked noisily on your bud. The delicious mixture of stimulation caused your stomach to churn.

“Oscar, ahh-”

“Yeah, you wanna cum?” He flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit as his fingers curled against your G-spot. “Cum for me, baby. Cum now!” As if on cue, a wave of pleasure crashed over you, causing you to tremble and push his head closer to your mound. Oscar purred against your pussy as his fingers drowned in your nectar. He ripped himself away from you, tugging you into his lap. You climbed on top of him, immediately crushing your lips to his. His bulge throbbed against your core, begging to be freed.

“Take my cock out, baby.” You moved slightly so you could yank his pants down and watch his dick slap against his lower abdomen. “Good girl, now go ahead and ride me.” Your hand slid up and down his shaft a few times before you sunk down on him. You barely got him halfway inside you before your eyebrows knitted together and your lips curled inward.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Oscar caressed your face before peppering kisses on your forehead and nose. “I gotcha, baby. I’m here.” You dropped further down on him until you were filled to the brim. You snaked your arms around him, closing the space between you two before grinding against his groin. It didn’t take long before you were bouncing on top of him, legs wrapped against his hips and holding his broad shoulders as support.

“So…fuckin…big,” you whimpered, digging your nails into his skin. Oscar leaned back, rutting his hips up to meet your thrusts.

“I know, baby. Bet you never had a cock this big.” You timidly turned your head to the side to avoid his lustful glare. With his slender finger, he tilted your head back towards him. He stared at you like a predator stalking his prey before attacking. This caused your brain to turn off and your hips worked over him in a frenzy.

“Fuck! Keep doing that. Just like that, baby.” Oscar’s praises made you throb violently around him, a condescending laugh slipping past his lips. Your hips bumped together in unison, and that familiar twist in your stomach returned as his tip hit that spongy button repetitively. You cried his name, announcing how close you were to the edge.

“Where d’you want me, baby?”

The words that came out of your mouth surprised both of you. “I want you to cum inside me, please. Wanna feel you so bad.”

Oscar fucked you until he knocked the wind out of you. “Take my cock like this. Take what belongs to you. All yours, baby.” You bucked your hips against each other until you tensed up above him. As you screamed in bliss, Oscar embraced you tightly against his slick chest. His grunts vibrated against you as he filled you with his seed. When you were full of his taint, he clasped your cheeks, kissing you with the same fiery passion as before you ravished each other.

You hopped off him, letting his cum drip from your hole before collapsing onto the bed. Oscar joined you on your side, cradling your shaking body. He lulled you as you calmed down from your high. When you came back down to earth, you curled up closer to him, resting your head on his chest.

“Did you really mean it when you said my happiness was a priority?”

“Of course I did! If I didn’t I wouldn’t have kissed you back there.”

“And we wouldn’t have…ya know.” Oscar chuckled, tucking a chunk of hair behind your ear. “Thank you.”

He looked at you puzzled. “For what?”

“For keeping me safe. Ironic enough, this is the most secure I have felt in my life. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

Your bodyguard interlaced his fingers with yours, stroking your hand with his thumb. “Even after this whole thing is resolved, I will still protect you with all my being.”

Navigation | Main Masterlist | Oscar Isaac Masterlist

[erodasfishtacos]

Is this seat empty? " Yes and this one will be too if you sit down" , "Don't be like that my love."

For MLB!Harry first stupid fight in a relationship 😂

Okay this turned into something entirely different then the prompt. Sorry anon 😂

—

Peace & Quiet (Please)

If you enjoy please like, reblog, comment, or come talk to me!

I write for free so if you enjoy my work please consider donating to my kofi page.

-

“Where d’you put m’protein mix?” Harry asks, padding into the kitchen and opening every single fucking cabinet.

“It’s in the same place it’s been for the past five years,” YN bites out with a slight irritation, mixing the pancake batter a little rougher.

She’s been up since three in the morning and Harry sauntered in around six-thirty after coming home late from a baseball game last night.

All the babies still asleep.

“Ah - fuck,” Her husband huffs when he spills the powder all over the countertop and floor she had just swiffered ten minutes ago.

When he goes to open the other cabinet and grab for a shaker bottle - they all come tumbling out onto the floor in a loud clash.

“Could you be any louder? You going to wake up the kids!” YN scolds harshly, pointing to the closet, “Go get the swiffer.”

He obliges - surprised by her attitude, grabbing it and slapping it (by accident) on the ground like a fucking baseball bat, the head of the mop snapping off and breaking.

“S’broken,” Harry states the obvious, shrugging and going about peeling a banana before leaving the peel near the sink.

YN turns to face him, voice irritated, “I’m about to break you, just like you broke the swiffer.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He asks cheekily but her glare tells him there is no amusement to be had this morning.

“I just spent all morning cleaning and you’ve made this place a disaster already!” His wife bites before flipping one of the pancakes.

Harry dejectedly cleans up his protein mix mess, neatly places the shake bottles into the right place, throws away the peel, and closes all the cabinets.

“M’sorry,” He murmurs, coming up behind her and kisses the nape of her neck, “Y’seem a bit cranky this mornin’.”

And man. He should have not said that.

“Do you have a baby who needs to fucking feed from your body every hour even during the night? I don’t think so,” She mutters, shaking him off of her.

“Hey, mama. M’bein’ an ass, what can I do to help?” He changes gears, choosing to stand next to her since she didn’t seem to want to be touch.

“Breastfeed - let your nipples feel like their constantly on fire and about to fall off. Make all this post-partum bleeding stop. Let me sleep for a day straight. I don’t know,” YN begins to sniffles, plating a few mini pancakes.

He’s taken aback, eyebrows furrowing in concern, and he leans forward to flip off the stovetop, “Can I touch you?”

She nods, wiping her eyes, and allows him to haul her up into their marble countertop, “Mama, y’need to tell me when y’feeling overwhelmed? Please baby. I’ve asked you a million times to wake me up and I can bottle feed her.”

“No, she…I have to feed her. It helps bonding and it-“

Harry interrupts firmly, “She will be perfectly fine being fed by a bottle a few times a day. You’re putting too much stress on yourself.”

Her head falls on his shoulder and she mumbles, “I just feel so…gross, not attractive at all.”

He pulls her back, searching her face in confusion, “Baby, why would you ever say somethin’ like that?”

YN let’s out a quiet sob, “My nipples are chafed and sore, I’m constantly bleeding, my belly hasn’t deflated -“

Harry can’t help but lean in and connect their lips harshly, he’s pulling her loose shirt up and over her head.

“Harry, what-“

“Listen t’me,” Harry rasps seriously, his hands are tender and careful as they cup her swollen breasts - thumbing at her painful nubs.

“I’m literally obsessed w’your tits, baby. They’ll go back to normal after y’done feeding and even if they don’t - I love them just as fucking much. You fed our three healthy strong boys and now you’re makin’ sure our chunky little girl is eating good.”

Then he hands move to cup her belly, large hands splayed over the still softening, firm bump from where Briar had been housed for nine months.

“Y’gave me four, four fuckin’ babies from this belly. I’m fucking in love with your body. God, y’thighs, y’tummy, the stretchmarks - fuck, getting me hard just lookin’ at you.”

It was true, he was stiffening up in his shorts but neither of them acknowledged it - it was a love boner more than anything else.

He literally got hard from how much he loved her.

“I’m tired,” She sighs softly, letting Harry tug her shirt back on as the children would be waking up soon to eat breakfast.

“I know, mama,” Harry acknowledges softly, giving her another kiss before taking over the pancake station.

-

When all the boys are downstairs and chomping away on their food, Cash, who is just about four decides it’ll be funny to squirt the sticky syrup all over their expensive stool cushions and the floor.

When YN turns from the sink to see the mess, she admits she snaps a little bit, “Really Harry? You’re supposed to be watching them, not checking the sports news on your phone!”

Harry is about to defend himself but his wife is stomping over to where Cash has emptied the bottle and gives him a firm look, “Cash Edward Styles, get your bum upstairs, right now.”

Cash’s eyes widen, his mother rarely needed to use a harsh tone with them, “Mama, I’m so-“

“If you are not upstairs, by the bathtub this instant, you get no outside time today. Do you understand me?” YN tells him, giving Easton a warning look when he licks at the syrup on his finger.

“Yes mama,” Cash squeaks out sadly, abandoning his plate and walking up towards the bathroom upstairs to get clean.

Easton and Ezra are dead silent as they watch their brother leave - not wanting the same fate as him so they sit proper.

“Sweetheart-“ Harry begins, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“No, I have my hands full taking care of four kids. I don’t need you acting like a fifth. Go bathe your son,” YN tells him coldly, an angry stare directed his way.

Harry clenches his jaw, biting his tongue as he stands up and pushes his chair in with force - making a loud noise before following after his second son.

A few minutes after they’re out of sight, Easton thought it’d be funny to wipe syrup down Ezra’s cheek which made Ezra cry and throw a pancake at his older brother - now soaking him in syrup.

YN starts to leak milk at the sound of Ezra’s cries.

“Easton Robin - get you butt upstairs this instant too. You know better - no outside time today,” She informs him as she uses a wet wipe to clean Ezra’s cheek.

“Mama,” Easton whines, fat tears starting roll down his cheeks as he stands up, loitering by the kitchen stool.

“Do not make me repeat myself,” YN warns, swiping a paper towel over the wet spot on her shirt from the leak.

-

Harry had just started washing up Cash who was still melancholy when his blubbering older one comes in - still tearful.

He sighs, looking at his syrupy son, “Wha’ happened?”

Easton looks hesitant, “I put syrup on Ezzie and mama said no outside time today.”

His father is tight-lipped, he can already predict that Easton’s actions upset Ezra, “Alright, c’mon. Let’s clean y’up too. Y’know better, Easton.”

-

Harry had just finished helping both boys dress when YN appears in the doorway with Ezra who has a binkie popped in his mouth.

She steps over and hands their son to Harry before muttering, “I’m going to feed Briar, keep the boys out of the room. I need some peace.”

YN disappears from the room before he can even reply to her.

-

Harry can admit he gets distracted when one of his coaches calls him up for a game change, doesn’t notice when Cash sneaks from the playroom.

It’s less than five minutes later when YN leads Cash gently by the hand back into the playroom, with Briar still latched and feeding.

When she sees Harry on his phone, she’s fucking livid with him.

“Really Harry?” His wife scoffs, guiding Cash to join Easton in where he’s playing with legos.

“I’ll call you back,” Harry replies to his coach before hanging up, “Sorry, it was Donny-“

“Good to know your job is more important than watching your kids,” She spits out before storming back out of the room.

Harry is up and following behind her, jaw clenched and irritated, “Just ‘cause you’re in a pissy mood doesn’t mean that y’say shit like that.”

She turns on her heel, eyes fiery, “You have no god damn consideration. You’ve been swamped this week because of your nike promotion and games. I’ve had the babies all by myself for four nights while you get to gallivant around!”

Harry goes to speak but she puts her free hand up.

“I ask for you to keep our house clean and to let me have one moment of peace with our daughter but you don’t even let me have that! You do not understand how hard it is to push a baby out of you and then have them rely on you to feed them twenty times a day!”

His anger fades when his wife starts sobbing - chest shuddering sobs, “I just had her four weeks ago. I-I haven’t had a break yet. You act like it’s so easy!”

He starts to walk towards her, “Sweetheart-“

YN shakes her head, a desperate plea in her tone, “Please just give me time with Briar.”

Harry swallows harshly and nods - feeling like shit as his wife walks back towards the stairs - all the while still feeding their daughter.

-

“Hello?”

“Mum, I-can you take the boys for the night?” Harry asks quietly, standing in the kitchen while the two older boys are still playing quietly.

Ezra’s passed out, on Harry’s hip with his little face smushed against the cap of his shoulder with parted lips.

“Dear, is everything okay?” She replies cautiously.

“No, I-I don’t know. YN is overwhelmed and I don’t think I’ve been supportive enough,” Harry feels himself begin to sniffle.

Anne doesn’t pry for information which Harry loves about her, she agrees to take them, and states she’ll be over within the hour.

Harry goes about packing their pajamas and other necessities in their little backpacks as the squeal excitedly about going to Nana’s.

“Can we say bye to mama?” Easton asks anxiously as they clear out of their bedrooms.

“Let me go ask,” He murmurs, running a hand through his son’s curls.

When he cracks open the door, YN is sprawled out on her back, fast asleep with Briar also asleep in the bassinet next to the bed.

His heart aches because her shirt is off, and the remnants of her nipple cream which was a pinkish orange color wasn’t fully rubbed in on her bruised breasts.

Harry guides them downstairs, promising that their mama will call them later.

-

After the boys leave, Harry doesn’t know what to do so he cleans whatever he finds that is dirty or messy so she won’t have to.

He does all the laundry in the house, cleans up every single toy, and when Briar starts to whimper - he sneaks in to snatch her up so she doesn’t wake YN.

Then he takes her out to the shops with him to grab groceries, her favorite snacks, and maybe he does stop by a jewelry store and buy her something nice.

(casually a pair of 20k earrings)

YN fell asleep around eighty-thirty in the morning and doesn’t wake up until about nine at night, Harry had put Briar in her nursery about an hour ago.

When she does awake, Harry is sitting in the living room - watching a stupid action movie to pass time and dwell on everything.

She comes in quietly, stands in front of her husband who looks up at her with anxious eyes - she looks brighter now that she’s had adequate sleep.

“Will you hold me?” She rasps quietly, just in one of Harry’s shirts and soft pair of sleep shorts.

“Never haven t’ask, mama,” He murmurs, guiding her until she’s straddling his lap and burying her face into the crook of his neck.

His hands sneak beneath her shirt to massage the sleep-warm skin as he kisses her shoulder - over and over again.

“I’m so sorry,” YN whispers into his skin, voice croaky as she tries to not get upset.

He pulls her back to study her face, “Do not apologize, y’allowed to get mad at me and feel frustrated. You’re emotions are valid. There’s a lot going on and I could be doing more to help.”

YN wipes a tear that trickles down as she laughs in disbelief, “No, you can’t do anymore to help.”

“Wha-? I can, I promis-“

She interrupts his with a kiss before telling him sincerely, “You can’t do anymore help because you’re already doing the most amazing job. As a husband and dad. I was just tired and stressed - it’s not an excuse.”

It warms his heart, he fucking loves her so much it does make sense, has to button their lips together one more time.

“You have a really hard job too, on top of being a husband and dad. You give us all this, support us and take care of us.”

“Are y’kidding me? Y’the one who keeps this family together. Y’the fuckin’ love of my life, you know that? I love you so much, so so much,” He emphasizes, rubbing a thumb across her bottom lip.

The kiss one more time - the anger was subsided and they were okay once again.

Harry laughs and agree when YN murmurs, “S’time for bed again, m’tired.”

“Okay mama, anythin’ for you,” He responds before peppering her in kisses to make her giggle lightly.

[greyeyedmonster-18]

Dr Grey, I was in the middle of a very long morning, after a sleepless night (where I literally spent three hours just staring at my ceiling, trying to fall asleep again on the one day this week I could actually get up late) and chugging down my third cup of coffee when I stumbled upon your Raising Harry WIP. Sorry about the complaining earlier, but I felt it was necessary to highlight just how much that post made my day!!! It made me smile, my morning was suddenly brighter, and I had something to look forward to for my next break (which was going back and rereading it) THANK YOU - it was beautiful! The tentative interactions so far between Sirius and Harry, Sirius trying so so hard to rebuild himself piece by piece… all of it was so gorgeous!

anonnnnn. this is very very kind of you to say (though i am very sorry about the lack of sleep and the day job and the coffee chugging. i feel this on a spiritual level)

thank you for the love on my little raising harry, never to be posted full fic! i truly truly appreciate it (and everyone else who has passed along kind words in the reblogs/tags). there's something about this particular story that doesn't feel cohesive to me, and i am hoping that in time, I'll figure out whats missing and be able to yeet it out to all of you!

but in the mean time....i can give you the other part of this little story that i enjoy:

-

The intention of the outing wasn’t to annoy Harry, but as it was, as the day went on, Harry’s normally very pleasant disposition was turning sour. In a way, it was a relief. Sirius had been reading enough about parenthood through muggle books and memoirs and knew the teenage years were tumultuous, but from what Sirius had seen…it had been quiet, painless.

Harry was easy to please.

Harry wanted to please Sirius.

Harry just wanted the peace to be kept, and the quiet to be there, and while it was pleasant, enjoyable, Sirius knew it always wasn’t entirely authentic. He had expected at least a little bit of pushback when Sirius had asked Harry if he wanted to go into Diagon Alley that day.

“Shopping? For what?”

“I got the book list early from Rem--Professor Lupin, and thought it wouldn’t hurt to get them today. Maybe throw in some new robes as well? Shoes?”

“Clothes shopping?” Harry asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand quickly.

“I certainly need some, my uncle had…a much louder view of clothing than I do,” Sirius commented, looking down at the burgundy striped trousers he had taken from his Uncles wardrobe that morning, “And you, by the looks of it. Unless of course you fancy wearing Fuschia robes to your next party?”

Harry made a face briefly, “Not…really.”

“We can go to the Quidditch Supply shop too if you’d like. See what’s out for that broom of yours?” Sirius asked, as he studied Harry carefully, wondering if this moment was going to be the first time Harry vehemently disagreed with something Sirius suggested. It was obvious, to Sirius anyway, that Harry had no interest in shopping in the slightest, even if Sirius had been biding his time until he could shower his godson with new clothes. Proper clothes. T-shirts that weren’t so faded without holes and jeans that wouldn’t be falling off Harry’s hips even while belted. A jacket that would actually keep him warm, instead of Harry relying on school cloaks. Sirius had been appalled when he had asked Harry if he needed help unpacking, there’s room in the coat closet if you don’t want to put your winter things in your room, only to find out Harry merely had a hooded jacket and his school cloak. 

“Alright,” Harry shrugged and tucked into his breakfast again.

But as the outing dragged on, and the bags in Sirius’s hands multiplied, he could tell that Harry was growing weary. 

Harry dragged his feet, no longer amazed at being in Diagon Alley, and falling behind Sirius’s steps. 

Harry kicked at cobblestones and started to ignore Sirius’s questions when they went into shops. Harry would stand back with his hands in his pockets, not saying much of anything. 

Parenting books didn’t mention how you were supposed to navigate this. Parenting books only gave you half the picture and nowhere in them described how to encourage your godson to throw a tantrum and disagree with you without having him throw too big of a tantrum that resulted in screaming in a public space and damaging an entire relationship that was still being haphazardly pushed together, like belongings in a moving box. 

“Do you want to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies?” Sirius asked, “Or wait until the last stop?”

“Dunno.”

Parenting books also left out the script you were supposed to use when your child responded with I don’t know.

“It’s no trouble--”

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbled again, his head looking down at his feet as they walked, “Doesn’t matter…”

“I--”

“I don’t care, whatever you want.”

“I’m not the one who has a firebolt, so--”

“So we don’t have to go, it’s okay, it’s whatever,” Harry said and Sirius watched as his godson appeared to stop himself from a footstamp for emphasis, before thinking better. Sirius’s mouth twisted into a barely hidden smile, thinking about Lily who up until the day she died would stamp her foot when she wasn’t getting her way. During arguments went James, once in the hallway with Sirius when he told her he wasn’t going to a party thrown by their old Potions professor. Nostalgia, aside, however, Sirius wasn’t sure what to do, trying to keep moving to not disrupt the crowds but having trouble making any sort of decision while doing so.

He stopped, and took a breath.

Harry stopped too.

“...Ice cream?” Sirius asked.

“What?”

“Let’s go get ice cream instead.”

Harry squinted up at Sirius bringing a hand up to block the sun, “I thought--”

“Yeah, well…I think I’d rather have ice cream. What say you?” 

Like poking a needle into a balloon and watching it slowly deflate, Sirius saw Harry visibly loose the pent up anger and annoyance at the mention of ice cream. His shoulders relaxing, hands were taken out of his pockets, a half-smile even. 

“Yeah. I…Yeah.” 

The crowds of people simply moved around two statues standing still in the walkway, and Sirius simply changed the script. Quidditch shops would be there, so would the opportunity to buy Harry new shoes, and Sirius hope there would be time left yet for Harry to have a proper teenage meltdown over something trivial. It wasn’t that day, though, Florean Flortesques’s the opposite direction, and towards the entrance where Sirius had left his car in a muggle car park. It was summer, the heat only getting worse throughout the afternoon and the shop was busy, but they managed to find a spot to sit outside, Sirius waving his wand to cast a cooling charm around them, and pulling his sunglasses back over his eyes. Harry noticed, and hesitated to sit down, looking back at the busy shop. 

“We can sit inside,” Harry said, “I think there was a table…”

“With all the chocolate spilled on it?” Sirius asked, “And that child with her sticky hands, no thanks.”

“You don’t know she had sticky hands,” Harry giggled a little, taking a spoonful of his chocolate ice cream putting it into his mouth. Sirius had asked if Harry wanted one of their other flavors, wanted toppings, or even sprinkles, but Harry just shook his head. Just chocolate. 

“I could just tell. Kids always have sticky hands…”

“Did they have a lot of kids in Azkaban?” Harry asked, and Sirius immediately laughed, caught off guard by the quick-snark and the boldness of the statement, Harry ducking down to hide a smile behind another bite of ice cream. People around them turned at the loud, bright laughter, Sirius realizing it had been some time since he had laughed that hard. 

“Fair enough, cheeky…” Sirius took a bite of his own ice cream--lemon-- noticing how the smile hadn’t left Harry’s face yet. Noticing how relaxed Harry looked for the first time all summer, more relaxed eating ice cream than he was in their tiny kitchen. 

“I just mean I know…you have a hard time in sunlight, and it’s not like you wanted ice cream…you just thought I would…and--”

“I love ice cream, Harry. Actually, I don’t think I ate enough of it when I was your age or older. Professor Lupin always had to have a carton in the house though, we had a magical cupboard and--” Sirius stopped himself before he got carried away. Before thoughts of Remus and their beat up tiny flat from another lifetime ago crept too far into the forefront of his mind and he was unable to wish anything else for himself. Calling him Professor Lupin only did so much to distance himself from memories that Sirius used when dementors rolled around. He could forget about the cold ground and the aches in  his body if he just thought of Sunday mornings and kisses over cups of coffee, a record playing and sun streaming in through second-hand curtains they had found in a bin at a yard sale. 

“You had a cupboard in the dorm?” Harry asked.

Sirius laughed awkwardly, running a hand over the back of his hair quickly, “No, uhm…I meant when he came to visit…when I lived with your Dad. We…always made sure we had ice cream in the cool cupboard.”

“Oh,” Harry nodded, taking Sirius’s fumbled explanation at face value.

“And don’t worry about me and the outside…it’s good for me, and I know you like being outside…don’t you?”

“Yeah but inside is fine too if you--”

“Remember what I said when I asked about your bedroom? And if you wanted to change anything?” he asked, “Same with the Vegetable Catastrophe of Last Week? You’re allowed to have…preferences, and opinions, even. I’m not going to be cross at you for telling me how you feel. Ever. Even if its rude or…you’re not happy with someone or you’re really angry because beets are a terrible vegetable….I’d much rather know how you’re feeling.”

“Why?”

Sirius stalled, trying to keep his face neutral as he figured out a way to answer the question, knowing he had to do it quick or Harry would back peddle, ice cream apparently being the perfect tool to begin harder conversations, barriers melting in tandem with the treat, “...Why wouldn’t I?”

“...dunno…”

“There is…nothing in the world that I would rather concern myself with than how you are feeling, Harry. I have endless free time and endless money and…everything, but you’re my priority. Do you know that?”

“I guess.”

“You guess, nutter…” Sirius shook his head and Harry laughed a little, putting another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. 

“...Then…can we go home? After this? Please?”

--

It was later than usual the next day when Sirius finally heard Harry’s bedroom door open, and the light footsteps coming down the hall, his godson emerging wearing a new shirt and a pair of shorts they had bought yesterday. The comforting good morning was exchanged, Sirius standing up and immediately starting to prepare breakfast for Harry. Prepare tea the way Harry took it, a cup of water floating through the air and onto the table first. It wasn’t until they were halfway through, sounds of the waves through the open kitchen window, a bowl of fruit and two plates on the table that Harry looked up at Sirius.

“Sirius?”

“Everything alright?”

Harry nodded, and put down his fork slowly, “I was…wondering if today we could maybe go down to the beach? If you’re not busy.”

Sirius took a breath, trying to do his very best impression of nonchalant as he smiled at Harry, “Sure we can. We…can go after breakfast, if you’d like.”

[arinbelle]

Made

Hello lovelies! Just in time for the last day of Nessianweek: Day 7 ( I know I barely did anything this week and I was late for one of the prompts). Please consider this my apology and contribution.

Thank you so, so much for reading, your comments are literally what keep me going, your reblogs give me life, and your memes are unparalleled and give me abs from all the laughter they make me do. Please never stop!

Enjoy! ;)

Ratings: Swearing, mentions of violence, no smut :(

~*~

Part VII

“My dear, please be careful. You no longer live only for yourself. You live for me as well.” ― Kamand Kojouri

Cassian ended the call between him and Rhys, both their tempers being stoked by each other's ire.

Cassian had no patience for it anymore. He wasn't a child. He was a grown man for God's sake, and he didn't need anyone telling him who he could or could not be seeing in his personal life. 

Not that he was seeing Nesta, per se. But he wasn’t not seeing her either. She’d spent the night with him after he’d brought her back from her apartment while his clean up crew had taken away the body. 

Then she’d stayed the day after. And the day after that. Cassian had lost track of time in her presence. She was like a drug, intoxicating his senses until he couldn’t think straight. It didn’t take much for him to get his hit. A kiss here, a soft touch there, and he was done for. And there was so much touching that was done.

It seemed the both of them were making up for lost time in the year they’d fallen off of each other’s radar. They couldn’t get enough of each other, couldn’t stop once they’d finished, and it wasn’t something Cassian was in any mood to discontinue. It was like a never-ending thirst to have Nesta, to claim her as his own in the few ways she would allow. And Gods above but it burned. Burned like hell and sin to be this close and to know that given enough time, she was going to push him away again. 

So maybe Rhys was right in his trepidation of Nesta being in Cassian’s house alone with him. That didn’t mean it settled any easier for Cassian.

“What’s wrong?,” Nesta’s voice, raspy from sleep sounded from behind him. He felt the covers shift behind him from where she’d been laying and soon a warm hand was on his shoulder. Nesta’s hair fell over his front, tickling him briefly as she leaned in and kissed his neck from behind, slinging one of her arms cozily across his chest.

 It was stolen moments like these that Cassian wondered what it was about him that kept Nesta from going all the way. What was he not able to give her, besides the obvious issues in their families, that had her hold back from being his completely.

Cassian wrapped a hand around her forearm, holding her tightly while he turned to burrow his face into her hair. She smelled like a mix of jasmine and his own shampoo, a fact that didn’t help the swelling ego inside of him that she was his. Mine, mine, mine something deep and primal screamed from inside him.

“Nothing,” Cassian admitted, pressing a quick kiss to her arm that was still, to his satisfaction, wrapped around him. “Just Rhys being Rhys. Don’t worry about it.”

Nesta scoffed and when she unwound herself from him, Cassian felt the disappearance like ice shards on his skin, pebbling in her absence.

“I don’t get why he hates me so much,” she finally said. Cassian decided to join her back under the covers for a few more stolen moments before the day had to officially begin.

Cassian hesitated once he was next to her though, especially as he took in her arms crossed over her chest and the general look of irritation on her face. Would she push him away? He hoped not.

Nesta didn’t stop him from wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. What surprised him was when she leaned into the touch and instead lay her head over his chest, one of her palms coming up to rest over his heart.

Could she feel his thundering heartbeat? Did she know why it beat for her like that? The answer terrified him either way.

Nesta traced the tattoo on the left of his chest lightly with her fingertips. Each touch felt almost reverent and it was easy to become lost in the caress and all that it didn’t mean to Nesta even if it meant everything to him.

“What does this mean?,” she asked abruptly, fingers splayed out wide over his tattoo.

Cassian didn’t want to think about it. Certainly didn’t want to remember it’s significance when it stood for everything he was ready to forsake for Nesta if she gave the word.

“Another time,” he promised gently. 

And then, to take her attention away from the topic he didn’t want to discuss, Cassian consoled softly, “He doesn’t hate you, bella.” Nesta’s hair was soft to the touch as he ran his fingers through the dark strands. “He’s just...protective.”

Nesta craned her neck to look up at him. “What does he think I’m going to do to you? Kill you?”

Cassian didn’t blink.

Nesta pushed off of him. “Are you serious?”

“I didn’t say that’s what I think. It’s what he thinks. Between the gun you had pointed on me, which he knows about by the way, and the fact that you shot Balthazar, he’s not feeling too great about you.  Can you blame him?”

Nesta grumbled. “No, I guess not. He’s still an ass.”

Cassian chuckled, pulling her back onto him. “That he is. Now I don’t want to talk about my brother.” 

Nesta smirked, her hand dragging down his body knowingly. “What do you want to talk about?,” she asked coyly, innuendo coloring her question.

Cassian’s lips found her own in answer.

~*~

If their past two days together had been open and carefree, the tension between them was painful and palpable as he dropped her off to college.

“So, let me get this straight,” he started while he began driving into a parking spot. “You don’t work in a therapist’s office, do you?”

Nesta pulled her bag onto her lap from the back of his car, not wanting to meet his eyes. “I do. Just, not as often as I told you.”

Cassian took a deep breath in. Then out. She peeked a glance at him from behind her hair and thankfully, there wasn’t a trace of anger on his face at the confession. 

“I’m still in grad school for psychology. It helps me out for that.” It was a stupid, last ditch effort to derail the conversation into something more palatable. At least for her sake. She had no idea how Cassian would handle all the new information.

Cassian finally shared his thoughts. “But you aren’t going to use the degree so why do it?”

Nesta bristled at the insinuation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Of course I-”

“Because I was just thinking about how you work for Nolan more days than not. You know, like you just admitted to me.” His voice was so soft it was easy to be falsely lulled into thinking he wasn’t upset. But after years of being around him, Nesta had come to learn that Cassian was at his worst when he was scarily quiet, so she let him continue. Let him get it all out. “So if you’re his personal hitwoman or whatever the hell he has you doing, I don’t get how you plan to fit in an actual career.”

“Fuck you,” she threw back without thinking, any attempt at letting him vent his frustration to her went straight out of his window.

“I’m just saying,” he stated matter-of-factly. It made her see red.

“Well I’m saying, it’s none of your business. I have to go.”

Nesta reached for the door but suddenly Cassian shifted his hands and she heard an audible click sound throughout the car. She knew it was stupid to even try it, but Nesta yanked on the handle of the car three times for good measure.

“Let me out.”

“Explain it to me.” There was something in his voice, something like desperation and pleading all wrapped up with regret that had Nesta face him.

“Explain what?”

Cassian ran his hand through his hair in irritation, gesturing widely. “I don’t know, this whole thing. Why do you work for him at all?”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t tell me or you can’t do something else? Just tell me how this even started.” 

But she couldn’t. There was no way in hell she was going to tell him about her sob story and have him take pity on her. Maybe even loan her the money to pay off her father’s debts. 

No. She’d done more than enough damage in people’s lives. People she cared for. People she loved. She’d be damned if she dragged Cassian into that mess as well.

“I can’t, Cassian,” she repeated. “Just let this go, okay? Please.”

Now who was pleading with who?

Cassian seemed to contemplate it. Maybe she should try saying please more often to people. Before she saw it coming though, Cassian’s hand had grasped her chin in a possessive hold. His hazel eyes bored into her own and Nesta briefly wondered if a person could be hypnotized into revealing all their dark and sordid secrets if the person doing it was beautiful enough. Because if so, Nesta was done for.

“Just promise you you’re okay. He’s not...,” Cassian struggled for words, his voice rough with worry, “That he’s not taking advantage of you.”

Oh he was. Definitely, Nolan was taking advantage of her. But not in the way Cassian was worried about.

Nesta wrapped her own hand around his, pulling it off of her face but choosing not to let go for a little while. “I promise I’m fine. It’s not like that if that’s what you were worried about. And I can take care of myself. Just...can we please drop this? Please?”

She let her lips form a pout and blinked at him a few times, batting her lashes. Cassian laughed at that and she felt her lips turn up of their own accord at the sight.

Cassian nodded and while it wasn’t a verbal okay, Nesta knew it was the best she would get from him as of now.

“Okay, I really do have to go now. Thanks for the ride.” 

Cassian smirked but she heard the doors click open. 

“I should be telling you that,” he reminded her, the suggestion prickling all of her senses back to life. Yes he was right. She’d climbed over him greedily that morning, riding him hard and fast until they’d both been left breathless and slumped against each other. Nesta on his warm chest and Cassian’s head lolling onto the headboard behind, his hands still digging into her ass, his dick still partially hard inside her.

“Cute,” she remarked. Before he could react, Nesta grasped his chin this time and planted a quick, searing kiss onto his lips before breaking contact and dropping out of the car. She ignored the fleeting look she caught of his face after she’d kissed him. The eyes widened in shock and mouth still left hanging open. It wasn’t exactly satisfaction that coursed through her when she reached the door and looked back, but it may have been something better.

Nesta waited at the door of the building until Cassian had reversed out of the parking space, waved goodbye at her, and drove off too far for her to follow with her eyes. Only then did she go into the old, creepy building and began the climb up the four levels of stairs to reach her class.

Why the hell was she paying this much tuition if the elevators weren’t even working?

~*~

Cassian hadn’t planned on acting like Nesta’s faux chauffeur for the day, Dropping her off to her morning classes and then picking her up for lunch, to which she insisted they had to have Panera Bread. “For the culture,” which he didn’t really understand, even if he did it without complaint. Then he’d dropped her off to her job with the therapist who he’d found out did actually exist.

Now here he was, waiting outside of the building like some psycho because she’d texted him earlier telling him she’d be out by eight and it was already nine.

Where the hell was she?

Just as he typed in his password to his phone, readying to call her for the third time in the past hour, Nesta walked out of the large glass doors. His excitement ended up being useless however, because as she reached his car, his phone blared loudly, Azriel’s name popping up on the screen.

“What?,” he answered, no longer caring about being nice. Not when he was interrupted from kissing Nesta hello after not seeing her for six hours.

“Okay asshole, hello to you too. What the hell crawled up your ass tonight?”

“Nothing, Az. What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

Azriel let out a rattling breath. “Not really. You know that clean up we did a couple days ago.” The body in Nesta’s apartment. 

“Yeah,” Cassian answered, trying to act normal as he started up the car and threw Nesta a quick smile. “What about it?”

“So, we have a problem. He’s...well you know who he is. So, obviously his family started looking into him when he didn’t come home a few days ago and they know we had something to do with it.”

“What?,” Cassian snapped. He missed his turn onto the freeway and Cassian let loose a string of swears at the realization and at what Az had just told him. 

Nesta stared at him and he struggled to remain calm. “What do you mean? How?”

“I think there’s a leak. My spies told me they somehow know we were involved in getting rid of his body. So now they may pay us a visit.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me.” Nesta didn’t bother trying to hide the alarm on her face anymore but Cassian didn’t have it in him to keep this conversation from her anymore.

Azriel spoke in a hushed murmur, “I don’t mean to be an ass here, but you know there’s a solution to this. It’ll save us resources and the threat of an attack.”

Yes, he knew that. But that didn’t mean shit to him. 

“No,” he commanded without a moment’s hesitation. Cassian pulled up to his house, and there at the door, not to his surprise, was Rhys and Azriel with the phone to his ear.

Cassian ended the call and shut down the car.

Nesta opened her mouth to say something and Cassian knew she was curious about what she’d just heard. Cassian shook his head. 

“Later.”

Nesta nodded, eyes narrowed onto Rhys as she grabbed her bag and made her way out of the car.

The fuckers were on him before he even had his keys out for the door. Azriel opened the door, already unlocked for them, and Rhys began speaking like he was on drugs.

“Look, I know it’s not something you’re into, but I think it’s our best option and-”

Cassian had to stop him right there. “Don’t even finish your sentence Rhys. I said no to Az, and I’m telling you no now too. Drop it.”

Rhys of course didn’t listen. He must have waited the two minutes it took for everyone to get into the living room, from where Nesta went to the couch, Azriel to the corner and Rhys right in his ear.

“I don’t care what you said Cass, you know that I’m right. The Irish know that we had something to do with Tamlin’s disappearance. We don’t have the means right now to deal with an attack from the Irish syndicate. We’re already struggling because of her family, or have you forgotten all the shit she’s caused to happen ever since you got involved with her?”

An accusatory finger was pointed at Nesta and Cassian realized in that moment that he’d never known such rage as he felt in that moment. Cassian pushed off of the table he’d been leaning on and drew himself up to his full height.

“Be a little more respectful Rhys, I won’t ask again. We aren’t doing it.”

It seemed Rhys wanted to get pummeled, because he didn’t shut up. “I don’t get what you’re thinking Cass. She killed him. It was her. Why the hell are we taking on damages for her faults? Tell the Irish it was her and be done with it.”

The silence in the room grew palpable as Rhys seemed to realize he’d gone too far. Even Azriel’s breathing seemed to be non-existent.

Nesta’s voice cut through the tension like a serrated knife. “Is that what this is all about?” She looked at Rhys. “You want to turn me in to Tamlin’s family?”

“We’re not going to,” Cassian reassured her quickly. 

“You should,” Nesta stated without hesitation. “He’s right, you won’t be able to handle the Irish and the Outfit if they both attack you. I’ll need to make some calls and wrap some things up but I’ll go over there tonight and-”

Like hell she would. “No, you won’t. I don’t need you to do that, Rhys is just-”

“Right,” she cut him off. “He’s right even if you don’t like it Cassian. I’ll just-”

“Damn it,” he snapped, “I’m in charge here.” He turned to Rhys. “Not you. Not today brother.” He turned on Nesta. “And not you. So stop trying to get yourself killed for something I can handle on my own.”

Rhys looked like he wanted to fight it out more but Azriel cut in smoothly, calling for his help with something that likely didn’t exist. Soon it was just him and Nesta staring at each other from across the room.

“Cassian-”

“No,” he cut her off again. “Don’t listen to Rhys. And stop trying to convince me to do that either. I’m not changing my mind about this.”

“I can take care of myself,” she reminded him, a tinge of ice evident in her voice.

Cassian took three large steps towards her, until they were glaring at each other with barely a few inches separating them. 

“You keep saying that but I’m starting to wonder if that’s true at all. You killed your sister’s boyfriend.” Nesta started to protest but he silenced her with a raised hand, “Yeah I know all about Feyre and Tamlin, don’t bother denying it. You offed him and then panicked and called me for help. Seems like you can’t actually take care of yourself all the time.”

Nesta’s stare was dripping with venom and her voice was cold when she answered. “Next time I won’t call.”

“That’s not the point,” he insisted now, begging her to see his point of view. Cassian grabbed at her hand, leaden at her side but still allowing him to hold on. “My point is you don’t always need to be on your own and be this one woman army. I’m glad you called me. I hope you always call me when you need help Nesta. I can help you. I want to help you.”

Something thawed in Nesta’s expression. Not enough to let him in, never that, but it was enough for him to swoop in and push this further.

Nesta squeezed his hand in her own. “And that’s something I’ll never forget Cassian. But I can’t rely on you to take care of me. Not when we live the lives we live and come from the families we do. It’s better to not...”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Nesta shook her head, subdued now. 

“What?,” he insisted again. “Why won’t you let me in?”

Nesta dropped his hand and Cassian swore he felt the crack in his heart when she did. “It’s too complicated Cassian. I’d rather not get into it.”

“Like you don’t explain why you don’t date?”

It was a cheap shot but he couldn’t help it. It had been gnawing on him and festering inside him for two years now.

Nesta stayed silent.

“Why not? You told me once you don’t do relationships. Explain it to me.” She’d told him that after they’d had their one night stand that had become a year long stand, if that was even a thing. It had bothered him briefly but as time went on and he’d begun to fall for her, soon it just became a source of hurt rather than confusion.

“Why?”

Here goes nothing.

“Because that’s what I want with you, Nesta. Because we’d be perfect. We are perfect together. I don’t know if you don’t see it or you don’t want to, but either way, I’m just trying to understand why you won’t let me have all of you when I’m ready to give you all of me. I’ve been ready to be yours for so long. Be mine.”

Nesta didn’t say anything back. Didn’t move a muscle or even blink her eyes. And that silence was answer enough for Cassian.

Cassian took a step back from her as the rejection washed over him. 

“Az,” he called out.

Azriel’s voice mutely sounded back to him.

“Take Nesta home please?”

Nesta didn’t say goodbye as she made her way out the door.

~*~

I’m just trying to understand why you won’t let me have all of you when I’m ready to give you all of me.

Cassian’s words replayed over and over in her head as she sat in Azriel’s car while he silently drove her back to her apartment. 

If he wasn’t currently sitting next to her with the brooding, dark look that seemed to be his permanent expression, Nesta was sure she would burst into tears. She’d hurt him. She knew that. Yet, she hadn’t been able to stop him and explain. To tell him that she had her reasons for holding back and Cassian wasn’t the problem.

“He’s crazy about you, you know?”

Azriel’s first words to her, ever. Of course they were about Cassian.

Nesta fought for control to keep her emotions in check. In case Azriel reported back to Cassian on whether or not she cried because of him.

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

The strangely quiet man snorted. “It’s not, and I don’t really give a shit about getting involved in other people’s problems, but he’s my brother. I love him and-”

“And you think I’m going to get him killed, like Rhys does.”

“I was going to say, if you let me finish,” he answered her with a pointed looked, “that I think you’re good for him. And he for you. You’re both just too damn stubborn to own up to it. Except Cassian did today and I know you feel the same so it’s kind of fucked up how you reacted. Or didn’t react at all mind you.”

“You were eavesdropping?” He hadn’t been anywhere near them, or so she’d thought, she’d spoken to Cassian alone. Clearly she’d been wrong.

“Maybe,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Thank you dude who I just met an hour ago. I’ll think about it.”

Azriel shrugged. “I’ve done my job then.” When he moved his shoulders, the top of his shirt moved and the portion that was unbuttoned let her see some of the skin underneath.

“You have the same tatto as him.” It wasn’t a question but Nesta wanted to know the story behind it.

Azriel’s eyes flicked briefly over to hers and for a moment, she worried he wouldn’t answer. 

“It’s not the exact same. I have the same one as Rhys. So do all of our other men that are sworn to him as our Capo. But Cassian’s is unique to him. He had it designed himself. It’s his own mark.”

“Why do you have a similar one?” Nesta had no idea why she found herself so enraptured by the tattoo Cassian had but she bet it had something to do with the fact that he wouldn’t discuss it with her.

Azriel thought about it for a moment. “It’s a symbol of loyalty. Of duty. And family. It’s basically our oath to follow him as our Capo no matter what happens. It’s not something to take lightly either. Once you wear the mark we all have, you serve him and accept him as your leader.”

She understood then why he didn’t want to talk about it. After all, wasn’t it loyalty and duty that was the reason behind them being a secret to the outside world.

“What if,” Nesta spoke unsurely, “you have the exact same mark?”

“As Cassian?,” Azriel asked surprised.

Nesta nodded her head. “Yeah. You don’t have a matching one, just similar. What if you were to get the same one that Cassian has?”

Azriel got a funny look on his face. She realized he’d stopped the car and they were in her apartment complex’s parking lot.

“We have the tattoo we do because we serve and honor him as our Capo. He’s ours. But if you were to have the same mark as him, then you’d be his. Make sense?”

Nesta nodded. “Thanks for the ride. Goodnight,” she called as she shut his door and made her way home.

It wasn’t until she was in bed that she remembered Azriel’s words. Replayed them over and over again until she couldn’t handle it anymore.

You’d be his.

Cassian had practically pleaded the same thing with her when he’d made his feelings apparent. 

Be mine he had said.

Nesta dialed the number from memory and after a few rings, Gwyn picked up. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you busy?”

Gwyn scoffed. “No. Why? Are you?”

“No. Remember you told me once that we should get tattoos one day?”

“Yeah, and?” There was a rustling, as if Nesta had woken her up in bed.

“You said you knew a guy in Brooklyn?”

“Sure,” Gwyn seemed to catch on as she answered, excitement rising in her voice.

“Want to go now?”

There was only a few seconds of silence on Gwyn’s end until a squeal that almost broke Nesta's eardrums reached her

"Hell yes!"

Perhaps there would never be a true happy ending for them, but this, this at least she could give to him. Her heart and her loyalty, however secretly it may be.

~*~

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[golden-barnes]

Plum tarts and red carnations

Pairing: Florist! Bucky Barnes x F! Reader

Summary: Bucky is enamored with one of the employees of the bakery in front of his store.

Category: Fluff

Warning:s some self-doubting thoughts and cursing .

Word count: 2.5k

Author’s note: I have been thinking about this since that one anon and thank you @buckycuddlebuddy because you helped to inspire me further with this. Also think of Bucky as Beefy because I'm a softy for a gentle giant. Comment and reblog pls and thank you!

“Damn Jerry. You’ve been growing nicely. A little bit more, and you will be ready to find a new home, bud.” Bucky whispered to the little sprout he was watering. Bucky loved his morning routine.

Before opening up his shop, he would check on his nursery. Water the plants in his greenhouse, checking them to see how they have grown. He liked talking to them; they never judged him or ignored him. He even named them. Sam would help, too, though he treated it more as a joke.

After checking on the nursery, he would focus on making bouquets and arrangements for the store. Nobody knew he was the one who made those beautiful arrangements, and he liked it.

It was like therapy for him. Matching the flowers and creating bouquets with meaning was a talent Bucky didn’t know he had. By this point, the shop was opened and ready for business.

While preparing a rose bouquet, he saw a woman in an apron running out of the new coffee shop from the table next to the cash register. Oh shit, she’s pretty. He thought. He kept staring at her and forgot the fresh roses next to him, grabbed one carelessly.

“Fuck.” He accidentally pricked his finger with a thorn. He applied pressure to his wounded finger.

“Oh, are you okay, sir?” The pretty woman from the bakery asked. Bucky didn’t notice her entering the shop, and now she was here. Looking disheveled but incredibly beautiful.

“Yeah, happens all the time. What can I help you with?” He said, trying to sound as composed as possible. He could hear Sam’s voice in his head. “Play it cool, Buck.”The woman let out a sigh.

“I’m co-owner of the coffee shop, and it’s our opening day. I was encharged of the decorations, and I ordered some flowers from this other place, but when they got here, they were horrible. Like really bad. And oh god, I’m rambling, but I need a brand new arrangement.” She said all in one breath. Bucky had to fight a smile from appearing. Adorable.

“It’s okay. What colors did you want?” Bucky asked. The woman smiled at him.

“We wanted white and purples. Something simple. But honestly, I know nothing of flowers. I don’t understand why Wanda put me up with this? Now we are late, and I still have to finish decorating the cupcakes.” She explained while Bucky started to search for the flowers in his shop.

“Lilacs, with white peonies and lavender roses, would make a nice bouquet. How does that sound?” Bucky showed her the flowers he was referring to. The woman gasped.

“Oh, they are so pretty! You, sir, are a genius.” She gushed, still looking at the flowers. Bucky felt his cheeks getting red from receiving praise.

“I can bring it to you,” Buckywhispered, afraid that she might not like that idea. “You know, because you still have some stuff to finish, so you can do it, and I’ll bring it to you in less than 10 minutes.” She looked at him and went to hug him. Bucky tensed, not expecting the hug, but soon relaxed.

“You are literally my hero. Just ask for Y/N,” She said, walking towards the exit. “Wait, what’s your name?” She added, opening the door to leave.

“Bucky.” Y/N smiled at him. “See you later, Bucky.”

Bucky has never worked on an arrangement as hard as this one. He was already meticulous, but he really wanted to impress Y/N. Can you blame him? The pretty girl needed his help, and he wanted her to be happy. He even added some baby’s breath and this new white ribbon that had come in for weddings. He was very proud of it but also very nervous.

With a deep breath, Bucky entered the coffee shop. A brunette was at the door, cleaning the tables.

“Sorry, Sir. We are still aren’t open.” She said. Bucky gulped.

“Uhm. I’m looking for Y/N.” He told her; she looked at the flowers in his hands and understood. She yelled for Y/N, who came out of the kitchen with icing on her check, giving him the brightest smile.

“Hey, Bucky! That’s beautiful! How did you make such a pretty arrangement in less than 20 minutes?” She grabbed the vase out of his hands and set it on the counter. Bucky blushed and scratched his neck, shying away.

“It’s nothing.. I’m just happy you liked it.”

“How much do I owe you?” She asked. Bucky put his hands up.

“Oh, it’s on the house. Don’t worry. Call it a welcome gift.” He explained; Y/N jumped and gave him another hug. This time Bucky wrapped his arms around her.

“You are the nicest person on this fucking planet. I have to make it up to you. What’s your favorite fruit?” She pulled away from him and looked at Bucky in the eye. Bucky felt his breath hitch, and his palms get sweaty.

“I-I like plums.” He stuttered. She gave him a big smile and handed him a cookie.

“Hmm, I can make something with that.” She winked at him.

-

“I still haven’t named you, but honestly, I don’t know. You look like a Janelle, but also, I feel like that doesn’t fit.” Bucky said to the new cactus that arrived yesterday, in the afternoon.

“I think she looks like a Lucille.” Bucky turned around and saw Y/N with a box in hand.

“Oh, hi.” He felt embarrassed. She had heard him talk to his plants. Not even Steve had seen that. It was his private thing.

“She’s cute. What type of cactus is it?” She looked at it, not looking weirded out or anything.

“It’s called a Bishop’s cap. They grow to be very pretty and sprout a yellow flower. Not very popular in the shop, but there’s this new cactus crazy going on, and I thought to stock up.” Bucky explained, putting the cactus down next to the others.

“Do you name all your plants?” Bucky gulped and turned around to face her.

“Yeah, and talk to them too.” Bucky fought the urge to punch himself. Why would he say that? Fuck, now she is gonna think he is a fucking weirdo.

Much to his surprise, she smiled at him. She suddenly remembered the box she brought and opened it.

“For saving me yesterday, I made you a plum tart.” She opened it and pulled out the tart. Bucky felt his heart beating faster, and his hands get clammy.

“You didn’t have to.” “Ah! I beg to differ. Everyone that walked into our shop loved the flowers. They were really something. Like I couldn’t stop looking at them. So I had to show you my gratitude the only way I know how. With treats.”

“I couldn’t possibly eat that all alone. Want to share?” Bucky asked, giving her puppy eyes so she wouldn’t say no.

“You drive a hard bargain, Bucky. Has anyone ever told you can get away with murder with those eyes?” Y/N joked.

“I think my grandma’ probably said it. I have some silverware in the shop’s kitchen. When you have to be at your shop?” Bucky said, signaling her to follow him.

“I’m on break—perks of being the boss.” She explained while Bucky grabbed a few paper plates, forks, and a knife. She grabbed the knife and cut a big piece, and gave it to Bucky. Then she cut a piece for herself.

Bucky took a bite and accidentally let out a moan.

“I take it; you like it.” She winked at Bucky. He diverted his gaze from her. Why the fuck did I do that? Bucky screamed internally.

“It’s delicious. I can see why your shop has been packed since yesterday. Reminds me of my ma’s.” Bucky admitted.

“I’m glad, but I can’t take all the credit. You should see the coffee mixes Wanda came up with. They are the real star.” Bucky smiled at her. Nice and pretty… She let out a cough.

“How did you get really good with plants? Like sorry for the personal question, but you have a talent.” She inquired.

“Well, uhm. After getting discharged, my friend Sam suggested that I take classes to handle stress and PTSD. One of the classes was gardening, and I just found it so calming. So I started taking more courses and learning ‘till I decided to start my own business. I don’t think I could ever work anywhere else.” Bucky noticed her staring at him. “What?” He said, smiling awkwardly at her.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how you are the nicest man I’ve ever meet.” She said nonchalantly. Bucky chuckled.

“It’s nothing major. I just found my calling.” Bucky stated.

“I feel the same. I baked a lot in college, and then suddenly I was like fuck, this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.” She recalled. Her eyes glowed under the light of the kitchen.

“I felt the same way when I started this shop.” Bucky admitted, she bit back a smile.

“By the way, I like the name—Howling’s flowers. Oh, and how pretty this store is, it looks like I walked in a magical forest.” She complimented.

“I- thanks. I named my store after my squad and the decor well; that’s kind of an embarrassing story.” Bucky chuckled nervously. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please. I own a coffee shop named Magic café, and all of our items are named after magical things. I am the last person to judge.” Bucky bit his lip nervously while listening to her.

“I based it on The Hobbit. It was my favorite book when I was younger, and I just couldn’t imagine decoring this store anyway else.” Y/N looked at him with an open mouth.

“Okay, are you government android? Because you are friendly, great with plants and well-read. You are too good to be true.” She laughed. Bucky needs to find a way to blush less in her presence because this is like the fourth or fifth time it has happened.

They finished eating their pieces of tart and talking for a while. Y/N decided to go back to the shop, not realizing how much time she spent there. Before leaving, Bucky gave her some more lavender roses.

“Oh, Bucky, you don’t have to.” She protested.

“It’s just to add to the arrangement. I feel like it was missing a few more roses. You’ll be doing me a favor.” He assured. She grabbed the flowers and smelt them before smiling and giving him a small thanks.

Little did she know that lavender Roses mean love at first sight.

They played that little game for weeks, almost 2 months. Y/N would take her lunch break at Bucky’s shop. Feed him some food and pastries that she was experimenting with, and he would give her flowers.

“To put on the counter. Your store deserves fresh flowers every day.” Bucky claimed. But in actuality, all the flowers meant something. The white camellias? He was telling her that he admired her. The amaryllis? That he found you beautiful. The white and purple stocks? A silent plea for bonds of affection from your part. But he couldn’t bring himself to say these things out loud.

Speaking to Y/N in flowers was much easier. Maybe because she didn’t know and couldn’t reject him.

“Bucky, you gotta tell her, man.” Steve would try to reason with him. “She likes you; you like her. Just tell her that you like her or ask her out on a date.”

“You don’t get it, Steve.” Bucky would argue, which led to an entire discussion on how Bucky is being a coward that ended with him telling Steve and Sam to fuck off.

But they were right; it was simple. She has been an absolute doll with him. She doesn’t mind hearing his rants about the new book he read and helped him water his plants. She even bought waterproof labels to put their names on their planters. She even asked (more like demanded) Bucky to send her the pictures of every bouquet and arrangement he made. She loved seen his creations.

And he loved being her test subject. She would bring him new pastries to try. He was her official taste tester. Anything new in the store, Bucky had already tried it in every one of its variations. Y/N would speak to him of all of her special interests and all of her new hobbies. He had even met all her friends, and they loved him.

So why was this so difficult? Bucky groaned while arranging the flowers at the front of the shop.

“What’s got you all groaning and gloomy, Bucky-bear?” Y/N asked him. She looked radiant in her work clothes. Ugh, Bucky had it bad.

“Nothing, j-just thinking.” He nervously replied.

“Don’t overthink. You might over-heat your brain, bubs.” She joked, entering Bucky’s shop. And like the hopeless romantic he is, he followed.

“Soooooooo I have been trying out this new pasta recipe, and you are the only one I trust to give me the truth.” She said, opening the Tupperware she brought. Bucky’s heart fluttered at her words. He felt light-headed; maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth.

“I like you.” He blurted out. He slapped his hand over his mouth. Y/N turned to him, widen eyes, and mouth gaped.

“Bucky, do you mean that? Because if you are playing with me, I will fight you with this.” She warned Bucky, threatening with a spoon.

“I like you a lot. Actually love you. I- that’s what those flowers meant.” Bucky explained. Y/N put down the spoon.

“What flowers?” She asked, in the softest tone he has ever heard her speak in. Bucky turned his gaze to the floor, embarrassed that this was his confession.

“All of them. They all meant love in one form or the other.” He admitted. Y/N stood in front of him and put her hand on his cheek. He felt his heart do backflips.

“What flower means I’m in love with you, Bucky?” She asked, caressing his cheek.

“Maybe red carnations.” He joked, leaning into her touch.

“I’ll ask this handsome florist with a heart of gold to make me a bouquet to give you.” Bucky chuckled while she let out a little giggle.

“I would love a bouquet, but I would much rather have a plum tart from the sexy baker on the store out front.” Y/N hummed.

“I think I can make that happen.” She said, pulling him closer. “Can I kiss you, Bucky?” She asked; Bucky could only nod.

She grabbed his face and pressed her lips against his. Bucky wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer, molding her body against him. Their lips gliding over each other smoothly, as if they were made for each other.

They pulled away to take a breath, and they both had the same dopey smile. Tarts and carnations. Who knew they mixed so well?

[shotorozu]

hellooo i saw this tiktok video and was wondering if you can please do this for shoto kaminari and bakugou

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSJkeaV68/

‘i got a big fat 😳🎂’

character(s) : todoroki shouto, kaminari denki, bakugou katsuki (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, crack (x reader)

note(s) : LMAO ANON YOU LITERALLY READ MY MIND?? I WAS GOING TO DO THIS EVEN WITHOUT A REQUEST— great to know that i have the same thinking process with you 🤩

»»————-　♡　————-««

todoroki shouto

noooow

you know shouto’s always willing to do tiktok challenges with you— he might be clueless when it came to social media (because of end**vor)

but! he’s gotten used to your antics most of them anyway

but he’s sort of confused when you show him a video of a couple uh.. walking?? he can’t tell what they’re doing exactly

“what,, are they doing?” is what he asked when you showed him the tiktok, brows furrowed in confusion

“they’re uh.. kekeing how do i explain it— nevermind that! just do whatever i do, shouto!”

he’s still confused as hell 🧍‍♀️ but he decides to not ask any questions, and push through with it, just by seeing the excited look on your face

and the audio 😳 i mean, it’s not,, wrong. to him, your cake is some fine ass cake :))

you lead him out of the frame, and you hit play— not giving shouto time to ‘rehearse’

it might seem to be that shouto has no reaction to the audio, but if you look closely— the corners of his lips are tugged upwards slightly

and he follows your every command, when you gesture for him to copy you.

now, shouto’s got the dance steps down, but man’s terribly stiff 😭 he also kept looking at you (specifically your ass) to see if he was doing things correctly

afterwards, the two of you take a look at the video. and, he asks you if the tiktok needs to be filmed once again by your silent reaction

but he’s appalled when he sees you literally driven to tears from pure, unfiltered laughter

you assure him with a kiss that you’re fine, and insist that the tiktok is fine as you upload it— and you cuddle with shouto for the rest of the day, letting the tiktok marinate

the next day comes by, and tiktok BLEW UP. like.. blew up, really. they should be honored that they’ve witnessed shouto strut to nicki minaj

the comments being well, absolutely hilarious. you could read through the comments again and again, and not be bored

“mann your boyfriend 😭 he’s staring too hard” “YUHH GET IT, I GUESS” “go hot couple go ‼️”

needless to say, he didn’t hear the end of the conversation when bakugou found out about the tiktok

kaminari denki

if denki had a list of tiktok challenges he desperately wanted to do at some point in his life,

this would be in the top 3, for sure

so, luck seemed to be on his side when you approached him first— wanting to rope him in on another tiktok you wanted to do with him

hopefully one that doesn’t center him as the poor unfortunate victim

“you wanna do another tiktok?” he beams when you nod, and when you show him what the prank is— he’s excited!!

you can clearly tell that it didn’t take that much convincing

the blond’s also thankful that it’s not another tiktok that needs him to ask bakugou if he can say pegasus but without the pega 💀

“alright! tell me when we can do it,”

“right now.”

so here he is, standing beside you, as you set up your phone— absolutely confident on what he’s going to do

the tiktok starts running, and denki might’ve underestimated his eagerness, when the camera captures his eager expression 💀

there was no jumpscare warning

and you didn’t even have to say ‘c’mon‼️’ for him to follow your movements. as soon as you turned your back, he started moving along with you, and the music.

he was watching your movements, and he tried copying them to the best of his sloppy, hyper and exaggerated abilities

denki was so excited about being in the tiktok, to the point he literally crashed behind you— making the both of you tumble to the floor, laughing

and the tiktok’s results are pretty much unknown to him— minus the fact that you laughed HARDER when you re-watched the tiktok

“can i see?” he asks eagerly, but you swiftly reject— shoving his head away from your screen with a hand.

he pouts when you say “the results are a surprise!” a bummer, but he chooses to trust you, and the rest of the day is spent on the floor in pure enjoyment

you upload the tiktok and slowly but surely, it attracts people’s attention

because of denki’s eagerness— he,, did a fantastic job with the walk! you can even say that he did better than you, minus the not so graceful fall

even the comments agree with you “MAN HIS CAKE IS THANGING‼️” “he did awfully well omg 💀” “oh to have this relationship’s energy 😔 when can i find a dude like that?”

and when denki finally sees the tiktok’s results, he’s left in tears from laughing— reduced into wheezes

DANK-i : BABE WHDJWKDKE THE TIKTOK YOU JUST POSTED— 😭💀💀 IM IN TEARS

safe to say, his wish has been fulfilled, and he can pass away at any given moment, satisfied.

bakugou katsuki

bakugou katsuki will never admit that he does enjoy doing tiktoks with you

plot twist : he enjoys it a lot more than he expects

but he knows where the draw the line, and the line was at the new tiktok you’ve showed to him

“no.”

“but—”

“fuck no— if you wanted to twerk infront of a camera, go ahead by all means, just don’t rope me into it.”

he does have his reasons. one— the bakusquad will make fun of him, and two— if the tiktok were to blow up,, he wouldn’t live it down.

and it always does— he knows that tiktoks do particularly well if he makes an appearance.

“if i didn’t post it, would you do it with me?”

but katsuki seemed to be fine with that. with a roll of the eyes, he sighs— looking at the tiktok once again. he gets up from his seat when the tiktok’s over

“let’s do this fucking thing.” he says with determination, even though no one was going to see the tiktok anyway or so he thinks

the tiktok’s video timer starts counting down, giving the both of you guys ample time to get into position

a smirk couldn’t be held back when you state that “i have a big phat 🎂” it’s anything but lies, and it would be the only time katsuki would smile on camera

you go forward, and you gesture for him to follow on beat— with a focused glare, katsuki starts strutting with you like no one’s business

it’s at a slow pace, and people would’ve guessed that he had a stick up his ass, sure— but damn‼️ he has those moves.

and before the video actually ends, he’s seen turning around with a glare— to see if the camera’s not filming it’s still running, and the camera captures his expression

“not bad.” he can’t help but smirk at the results, when you replay the video “i’m referring to the both of us. and, didn’t know you could move like that.”

“katsuki, your pace was like a grandfather’s—”

“shut the hell up!”

but little did katsuki know, when he wasn’t looking, you published the tiktok online, for everyone to view (basically, 3M people have seen him strut to nicki minaj)

the comments were having a blast “we’ll disregard the pace, buT DAMN‼️WHERE DID HE GET THOSE MOVES?” “LOL HIS FACE AT THE END WAS LIKE👹🤨” “y’all catch that at the beginning? woooh he’s lovesick.”

when you woke up the next morning— you can hear the boom of his quirk outside of your room, and you can practically hear his not so happy voice

fly high 😔🕊 you will be missed

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[inomios]

Eight types of love II Levi Ackerman

Summary: “There are eight types of love, and even though his life has been full of pain since the very beginning, he could say he experienced them all.”

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Word count: + 5k

Author note: This is the first thing I’ve ever published and I’m really nervous, so I would really appreciate if you reblogged, liked and commented. Also, English is not my first language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes. Constructive criticism is really appreciated.

                                                           . . . . 

1. AGAPE or Selfless love

           His mother would tell him everyday that she loved him with everything she had, even though it was not a lot. He asked his mother what love was, what meant loving someone. She couldn’t explain it with exact words, she would tell him that love meant caring deeply for someone, even more than for yourself. She loved him and he loved her, that much was true. He asked if he could love more than one person, his mom told him that yes, you could love many people in your life and in different ways. Then, he proceeded to ask if she had ever loved anyone else besides him, she was quiet, like she was thinking the right answer and after a few minutes she said that she had or at least she thought she did, but she had never loved someone as much as she loved him. Love was a confusing thing for him and the more he asked, the more unclear it got.

          The only thing he was sure of was that the only thing she loved was her mother. However, curious as he was, he would ask her questions about it all the time.

         ‘Is love the best thing in the world?’ 

        ‘Yes, Levi, it is the only thing that makes life worth it.’

        ‘Is love always good?’ 

       ‘Not always, sometimes it makes you sad.’

       ‘I don’t wanna be sad. I won’t love anyone else but you.’ 

      ‘You can’t choose who you love, sweetie.’

      ‘Love sucks.’ 

     ‘You will get it when you grow up.’

     ‘I’m already a grown-up.’

     He tried to get it, but he couldn’t. He prided himself of being smart, his mom would always tell him that he was really clever and witty for his age. Then, how come he wasn’t able to understand love. It was just a four-letter word: L-O-V-E, it couldn’t have such a deep meaning. ‘Door’ had also four letters and it wasn’t hard to understand and ‘Scandalous’, pretty much the biggest word for him, had ten letters and he knew what it meant, he could even use it in a phrase.

      His mom, noticing that he was about to collapse trying to figure out what has love, tried to come up with the best possible definition, one that would please his five-year old son.

    ‘Love is a selfless thing. Love means giving everything you have, to make the other person happy and content, even though you may not get back all you give. When you love someone, you only what the best for them. It can cause you pain too but loving someone and being loved back is one of the best things we can experience as humans. We may not have a lot, Levi, but we have each other and more important, we love one another and that makes us privileged.’

     He understood it then, kind of, so the questions stopped.

     However, when his mother’s body laid lifeless in bed, he regretted not making one last question: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’

     Later, when he was under Kenny’s wing and after Kenny had left him at his own, he soon found an answer: no one would.

2. PHILIA or Affectionate love

           After his mother’s death, after Kenny, after everything, he thought that love was out of his reach, something he could never have again. Then Isabel and Farlan happened.

           Every single day since his mother died, he would ask himself if he would love again and if someone would love him back. However, at the same time, he wanted to know nothing about love, love brought pain and he had already suffered enough for a lifetime. He sometimes thought that he had an emptiness inside, a big hole where his heart should be, a room so big that no one could ever fill.

           After his mom came Kenny, but he was sure he did not love him, at least not like he had loved his mother, and he was sure as hell Kenny did not love him back. Love was supposed to be selfless and caring and Kenny was selfish and did not give a damn about him, he proved him that when he left him alone, again.

           Loneliness was a feeling he was already used to but being used to it didn’t mean he liked it. Then again, who would be dumb enough to love him? And he knew better than to love someone who would end up leaving him, like his mother did, like Kenny did.

           Well, maybe he did love Kenny, but loving him was painful. While loving his mother was sweet, freeing and it brought him solace and comfort; loving Kenny was toxic and tough, when he thought about it, it troubled him. He gave him a home and he taught him how to survive in the Underground, he didn’t know why, but he raised him, and Kenny never did something freely, he was sure something was missing there, but he didn’t know what. It was stupid of him to think that he cared about him, but a little white lie never hurt anyone. Loving Kenny, seeing him as the paternal figure he never had, filled him with turmoil and changed the way he perceived love.

           Love was weakness, it could bring you to your knees, he had learned that. It was pointless, why would you commit to something that would inevitably bring you sorrow? He wasn’t about to make the same mistake again, he knew better, the only person who would stay with him was himself and that wasn’t about to change.

           Then Isabel and Farlan walked into his life. Well, Farlan walked, Isabel stumbled.

           They became family. He knew better but he couldn’t help it. They were thick as thieves, literally. Suddenly, they became the family he yearned for since his mother died. He loved them with everything he had. Loving them was selfless as his mother said, he wanted the best for them, he wanted to see them happy, no matter the price. However, it was a different kind of love, it was pure affection. It wasn’t the adoration he had for his mother, nor the rage he felt for Kenny. It was tender and sweet, he never had a brother or a close friend to care about while growing up, but he thought it was supposed to feel like that, it had to be like that. It had to be another type of love. His mother told him that love was never the same, it had different shapes and, for him, at that moment love had Isabel and Farlan’s shape.

           Sadly, nothing good lasts forever, at least not for him. Love causes pain and brings you to your knees, he shouldn’t have forgotten that. When he saw Isabel’s head laying on the floor surrounded by a puddle of her own blood, mouth agape, eyes wide open and pale face, he fell to his knees. He saw a supercut of him, Isabel and Farlan, all the good times, all the laughs they shared and all the stories they still had to write but they would never be able to do because they weren’t there, not anymore, they were gone like his mother, like Kenny. He was alone again.

           Love always brought him to his knees and he would never forget it again. He wasn’t made for love; the same way love wasn’t made for him.

3. LUDUS or Playful love

           Meeting you happened out of pure coincidence, being in the right place at the wrong time.

           He had come from a long mission and he was completely and utterly fine, seriously, but Hange loved to make a big deal out of everything. Well, maybe he had an injury, but a minor one, nothing that he couldn’t take care of himself. He spent years in the Underground, he didn’t need a doctor, he could stitch himself up and place his bones back in place. However, Hange didn’t think the same and was nagging him about getting his injuries checked, so there he was, in one of the infirmary’s bed, waiting for the head doctor.

           It wasn’t that he was scared of doctors or “hospitals”, he just didn’t like the idea of some stranger touching him or feeling hopeless and powerless, he didn’t like feeling like he needed help or advice, he could do it pretty much on his own. But Hange didn’t really trust his medical abilities and he knew that arguing with her was pointless.

           ‘Doctor Brunner couldn’t come since he is busy with some paperwork, so he sent me. I’m his trainee y/n y/ln.’ 

           ‘I’m not letting some failed attempt of medic treat my wounds.’

           It wasn’t what people would call a ‘meet cute’ moment, it was more like a ‘meet jerk’. He wasn’t the best dealing with people, nor that he wanted to be, he preferred it that way. If you had been any other person, you wouldn’t have bitten back, but you had a sharp tongue and weren’t scared of him. That was probably what drew him in, he was so used to people recoiling in fear when they saw him that having someone that actually fought back was quite alluring.

           ‘Well, this failed attempt of a doctor knows more than you ever will, so act your age, stop being a bitch and let me tend your injuries.’

           ‘You have some nerve talking to me like that.’ 

           ‘You have some nerve coming to my workplace to insult me.’

           During that first encounter none of you said much to each other. He wasn’t fond on talking and you didn’t like his attitude, so you didn’t try to strike a conversation. He had to admit that you were good at you job, you tended him with care and you knew what you were doing, not that he would tell you, at least not yet.

           ‘Well, not so bad for a failed attempt of a doctor.’

           It was the closest thing to a compliment he could say, and it looked like you knew, because he swears that he saw you smile a little.

           ‘Aren’t you a pleasure to work with? The injury in your arm was pretty nasty and poorly treated, so luckily for you, you will have to drop by more times to check on you. These are my hours, if you want this failed attempt of a doctor to treat you, Captain. I could get used to see your friendly face now and then.’

           He didn’t know if the last part was supposed to be interpreted as flirting, but he did come back to visit you, to keep an eye of his injury, obviously. However, if you asked Hange, she would say that you had caught his eye, he still says that at that point in your relationship you annoyed him too much to find himself interested in you.

           His weekly visits turned into daily visits, so much for not liking you.

           ‘I’m starting to think I’ve managed to catch your attention, Captain.’ 

          ‘Tch, you’re just less annoying than the rest of the brats.’ 

          ‘Oh Captain, you really know how to make me blush.’

           He lied. You did catch his attention and you both knew it. It wasn’t love, not at all, it was a gentle curiosity that grew a little bit every day, like a flower blossoming.

           ‘Tch, you only know to say shit with that mouth of yours.’ 

           ‘This mouth of mine knows to do a lot of things, want me show you, Captain?’

           ‘When you return from the expedition, you have to come to the infirmary to see your wounds and stop playing the hero, it’s bullshit.’ 

            ‘I’m starting to think you may have an obsession for doing check-ups on me, brat.’ 

           ‘You caught me, I only do them because I can’t keep my hands of you, Captain.’

         ‘Why do you always call me Captain? It’s annoying, I’m not your superior.’

        ‘I know, but I like teasing you with it, Captain.’

        He cared for you more than he cared for other people in his life, he liked being with you, maybe that was another type of love. Loving his mother was selfless; loving Isabel and Farlan was affectionate; loving you, or whatever the hell he was felling, was playful, flirty and it filled him with joy.

       Maybe it wasn’t love, but it was getting there.

4. MANIA or Obsessive love

           Your relationship was frustrating everybody, absolutely every single person that knew about you two, everybody knew you had feelings for each other but none of you did something about it, you just kept tiptoeing around each other. It was painful to see. They didn’t know if you were oblivious, stupid, scared or if you were just messing with them, Hange believed the latter one because there was no way you two weren’t together already. The banter, the flirty remarks, the way he looked out for you and the way you took care of him.

           ‘What’s going on with you and y/n, Shorty?’ 

           ‘You tell me, Four-eyes’

           ‘Tell me the truth, y/n. Are you and Levi dating and just keeping it as a secret? Because I’m losing my mind.’ 

           ‘We aren’t dating, Hange.’

           To be honest, Levi was losing his mind too. The playful game turned into something more serious, something more obsessive and he didn’t like it. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and what were you doing while he was busy with paperwork. On missions his mind wandered about your wellbeing and if you were fine. He couldn’t ignore the way his heartbeat became erratic whenever you were close to him or the way he would notice every single thing about you. He felt powerless, there was no way to stop it.

           He, who always had a plan and knew to do, was helpless under something he could have prevented, or at least something he think he could have avoided. Deep down he knew that he would have fallen for you one way or another, some things are bound to happen, and love is one of them, but he didn’t want to admit that something as mundane as love could outpower him in his own life.

           He was aware of how you felt about him, you weren’t scared to be vocal about it and it drove him mad, and by the way his stoic eyes would gleam and glisten while looking at you, you were certain it was mutual. He knew that if he said the word or gave you signal, you’d be his and he’d be yours, but he couldn’t give you what you wanted, and it was a matter of time before you got tired of him. You were young and beautiful, one the most outstanding creatures he had ever seen, you could do better than him and you’d realize soon enough. Life was too short to waste it on him.

           ‘What are you waiting for, Levi? Do something about it because it’s getting painful to watch.’ 

           ‘Get off my fucking case, Four-eyes.’

           Everyone was waiting for him to do something, but he couldn’t. In those moments he remembered the question he wasn’t able to ask his mother: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’ His mother loved him, and she died, just like Isabel and Farlan, he couldn’t love you, because he’ll end up losing you, the same way he lost everyone else.

           He was loveless.

           But you weren’t, and you found someone to do what he couldn’t do, someone to love you like you deserved.

           He didn’t know a lot about them. You looked happier and that was all he cared about. He thought that seeing you with another person would calm his heart and his desires, but they only got worse, there was no way of forgetting about you. You were everywhere.

           ‘C’mon Levi, do something.’ 

          ‘Didn’t I tell you to drop it, Hange?’

           His visits stopped but you kept waiting for him, hoping he would come to his senses. You didn’t get it, you really didn’t. He had the opportunity, he could have taken the chance to be with you, but he didn’t, so you moved on, or tried to, you didn’t love your partner, but you could see yourself falling in love with them. However, you still missed Levi, not as a potential lover, but as a friend. The way he erased you from his life as you were nothing broke your heart. What did he want from you?

           He wanted everything. He wanted all of you and yet he couldn’t do anything about it. He was just frozen in time while you kept moving. He met your partner, they came to visit you once, they were gentle and loving, they looked at you like you were the brightest star in the firmament. They held your hand and kissed your lips. They did all the things he wanted to do. He was jealous, but he didn’t have the right to say something, he had never had the right.

           The way he looked at you made you feel guilty, like you were betraying him, and you were so confused and annoyed and angry and mad, and you really wanted to punch him in the face. So, you went to his room that night and stormed in.

           ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ 

           ‘I should be asking that, I’m not the one barging in someone else’s room with no previous invitation.’

           He had never seen you like that, so mad and full of rage and it was all directed to him and he knew it was his fault.

           ‘What do you want of me, Levi?’

           He wanted everything.

           He wanted you.

           ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Could you please stop making me lose my time?’

           He saw it in your face, that was the last straw.

           ‘You’re selfish, an asshole, a prick and a lot of other things. But above it all, you’re a fucking coward, so much for Humanity’s Strongest. For fucks sake, Levi, I loved you, I still do, but I can’t keep waiting for someone who is too scared to do something about it. I want you and you want me too. What’s stopping you?’

           He remembered again, the question he never had the chance to ask: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’

           You loved him and you weren’t scared of it. But he was, and you were about to leave the room. You turned your back on him and it was now or never. He had to choose: would he let you walk away definitely of his life or would he do something?

           For once, he didn’t think, he didn’t listen to his head, he listened to his heart. For so long he made himself believe that he didn’t have a heart, but his heart was right there, beating for you.

           He kissed you and you kissed him back.

           ‘Mine.’ 

          ‘Yours.’

5. EROS or Passionate love

           You both were private people, you didn’t want people talking about your relationship during its first stages, what you had was precious and new and you wanted to protect it from the world a little longer. That’s why no one really knew about the whole ordeal, well, they knew that something had shifted because you could be in the same room without making everyone uncomfortable with your unsolved issues, but they couldn’t pinpoint what had exactly changed, they just guessed that you sorted everything out, finally.

           However, Hange did know what changed. She prided herself on knowing Levi, after many years working with him she had learned that Levi only talked through his body language, so she started paying attention to what his body said instead of listening to the words he spewed. Therefore, when she asked him if he was dating you and he said a short no, he knew he was lying. She noticed how he seemed more at ease, how you had broken up with your partner, the way he would gravitate towards you and that when he looked at you, his eyes weren’t filled with longing and remorse, they were shinier and less cold than usual. So, she obviously knew that something was up, but she kept quiet. She may talk way too much, and people could find her annoying, but at the end of the day she was a good friend, and she would respect that neither of you wanted to make things public.

           Keeping things private was harder than he originally thought, he was distant and cold to everyone, but he couldn’t be cold and distant with you when you made him burn inside and he could only think about holding you close. It was weird for him, he had spent so many years deprived of touch that he couldn’t imagine himself getting addicted to it, but he was wrong, so wrong.

           You knew that Levi was touch starved, you didn’t need to be a genius to notice. When you picked up his body language and started hearing about his childhood, everything came together: his mother died when he was very young, the most paternal figure he had was toxic and abusive to him and since Isabel and Farlan he didn’t let anyone in easily. Levi wasn’t used to someone doting him and you knew that if you started showering him with affection, it would probably scare him off a little, and that was the last thing you wanted. So, you started slowly: holding hands, gentle caresses, kisses in his cheek, hugs, light pecks on the lips and when you saw that he started getting more comfortable, things started scaling on their own, you let him mark the pace. It wasn’t a quick process, but it was worth it.

           After a few months, Levi couldn’t keep his hands of you and he surely didn’t want you to keep your hands off him. This was a new kind of love, at first, on the early stages of your relationship it was playful, but then it evolved into something more passionate: quick pecks turned into open mouthed kisses; holding hands innocently turned into holding you close while you came undone under him again and again; kisses now went lower and lower, exploring new parts of you that he hadn’t seen and that no one else would. He didn’t think that touch could mean so much to him, but it did now, and he knew that couldn’t ever go back to a touchless life where you wouldn’t be there to love him.

6. PHILAUTIA or Self-love

          He wasn’t neither deaf, blind or stupid. He could hear what people had to say about your relationship, how you deserved better than him; he could see his reflection on the mirror and how he wasn’t beautiful, at least not as much as you, he wasn’t the male that would make people swoon and he knew that you could have any man or female you wanted, but you chose him, out of every other person, you decided to be with him. He was a lucky bastard and you didn’t make good decisions, what a match.

           You would look at him like he held the stars in the sky, and you would touch him like he was about to disappear in any moment, as if he were a dream you were afraid to wake up from. He didn’t get why him, he wasn’t the most handsome, nor the nicest, nor the easiest to love, and you still decided to keep him around. He liked to think that he was smart or cleverer than the average, and yet he couldn’t grasp his head around that the fact you loved him and just him, and that was it, it was as simple as that.

           Whenever you heard the things people said about your partner, you went feral, because you knew all those comments fueled the self-hate Levi had. Being loveless for so long it obviously affected the perception he had of himself and you wanted to change that, because he deserved it, he deserved all the happiness in this dull world. He liked to play strong, but you saw through him, and even though he never acted upon them, it hurt him. You wished he could see himself through you eyes, because it caused you pain the mere idea of him thinking less of himself, that he wasn’t worthy of your love.

           You would tell him every day how much you loved him, as if you were reciting a prayer to your own god.

           ‘I love you.’

           ‘You’re beautiful.’

           ‘I could stare at you for the rest of my life.’

           ‘I don’t know what I would do without you.’

           You would tell him that he needed to love himself, see the good inside of him, he guessed that that was one the types of love he had yet to discover: self-love. He didn’t see himself capable of loving himself nearly the half of how much you loved him.

           ‘You know one reason why you should love yourself, because you make me the happiest I’ve ever been.’

              He didn’t love himself, not yet, but if he was able to make you smile like that, he couldn’t be that unworthy of you.

7. STORGE or Familiar love

              He had been avoiding love for as long as he could remember, and then you burst into his life with the force of a typhoon. Love had found him, and he couldn’t get away, you never can, it was a lesson that he had finally accepted.

             For so long he saw love as something unnecessary, a burden for the soul. Love ruins you, it stabs you on the back, whenever he let his walls down, love would always take advantage of it and destroy him, bringing him closer to insanity, he had lost himself too many times by loving people and when he met you, he did not want the cycle to repeat itself. He didn’t want more Kuchels, Kennys, Isabels and Farlans, love was merciless, and he wasn’t interested in it, at least that was what he told to himself every day, that he was better off alone. Was all the pain worth it? He thought love came with a high price and he couldn’t afford it. However, things change, life happens, destiny has always something in the store, well, in his case he had someone.

           You were his everything, the beacon that brought light in his life, for so long he had been lost, walking amongst shadows, nearly becoming one, and when you appeared you changed the rules of the game, of his game. Every wall he had built around himself came down and you filled every gap his heart was missing. It was the scariest thing he had ever done, letting you in, letting someone in, giving someone else the control of his own heart. You knew the power you held between your hands and you never abused it. You were his solace in this mad world, the oasis in the middle of the desert.

         Loving him was not easy, he knew it, he was rude, sharp, too closed off, mean, he was what people liked to call a ‘fucking jerk’ and yet you never gave up on him, on what you had. Instead of leaving when you had the chance, you stayed through thick and thin: through sleepless nights, through his bad moods and grumpiness, through his biting remarks… .You didn’t ran way, you were too stubborn for that, instead you taught him more forms of love.

         You were all of the ones he knew and more.

         You were selfless, giving him every part of you and loving him with everything you had to offer.

         You were his best friend, his companion, the better half of him.

         You were playful, joyous, probably the only thing that could make him smile and bring him happiness.

         You were consuming, like a fire burning inside of him.

         You were passionate, intoxicating.

         You were every form of love he had ever experienced, but nothing could have ever prepared him for the kind of love he was experiencing in that moment: the familiar one. The one you feel when you hold your newborn in your trembling hands. It was something he couldn’t describe, there weren’t words for it, he tried to, but he failed every single time.

         This was the way his mom loved him, and then he knew how much he had meant for his own mother. While holding little Kuchel on his arms, he remembered all those days and nights on that dirty brothel, all the hours he spent by his mother’s side, how she would do everything to give him the best life and he soon realized there was nothing in this world he wouldn’t do for his daughter. It wasn’t the best of times to have a child, but in that moment, in that precise instant, when Kuchel opened her grey eyes, he was sure of one thing: he would tear everything and everyone down only to see her smile.

        A knock on the door. Another one. Two minutes passed and then Hange, followed by Erwin, entered in the room.

       ‘Tch, Shitty-glasses, who gave you permission to come in?’ 

       ‘My authority as a god-mother.’

       ‘Don’t make me regret it.’

      ‘She’s beautiful, what’s her name?’ 

     ‘Her name is Kuchel.’

     Kuchel was his new world, he loved her so much that it was overwhelming, he would never love someone as much as he loved her, and no one would probably love with the same devotion Levi Ackerman loved his daughter.

    ‘You know, Kuchel, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I promise you that you will have the best life a man like me can give you. I may be a little cold, perhaps a little strict and you will probably get mad at me sometimes, but no matter what happens, I will love you through everything. And by the way, no dating until I’m dead because no brat will be good enough for you. You deserve the world Kuchel and I’ll give you everything it has to offer. Things may get hard, you aren’t born in the best circumstances, but I’ll protect you because you deserve the life I couldn’t live.’

     Kuchel’s first word was ‘dadda’.

     Kuchel’s first steps were pointed towards his father.

     Kuchel’s favorite pastime was being in his father’s arms.

     Kuchel could only sleep after his father had kissed her forehead.

     And Kuchel would never love someone as much as he loved his father, because she loved him as much as he loved her.

8. PRAGMA or Enduring love

           He was old and wrinkly, he was scarred, mutilated and there were days he couldn’t sleep because the nightmares were too real. But he was happy, he was married to the most beautiful and special person he had ever met, he had a loving daughter, a bunch of brats he was proud to call grandchildren and the tea shop he had always dreamed about.

           Life hadn’t been fair to him. He had lost so many people he cared about, he had fought a war and he had had the weight of the world on his shoulders. But, after all, after the tortures, the adversities, the deaths… He had people who loved and whom he loved.

          Love was worth it. He had finally learned that.

          At his seventies he found out about the last kind of love, the enduring, the one that lasts and survives in time. He loved his family above everything, and he would love them long after his bones turn into ashes and no one remembers his name.

         Then he recalled that question he never got to ask his mother: ‘if you died, do you think anyone would ever love me, mom?’

         He looked at the sky and smiled.

        ‘After all someone was fool enough to love me mom, who would have thought?’

         A gentle breeze caressed his skin and a single tear fell from his eye.

        ‘I guess that’s the way you have of answering the question.’

[inklore]

apparitions.

premise: you don’t know how this came to be; steven fucking you in front of a mirror. your body and pleasure showcased to marc, to prove a point, to show him steven knows best.

pairing: steven grant x (f)reader

word count: 839

warnings: minors dni please, marc x reader are mentioned and alluded in here but not shown, unprotected sex, literally just smut, dom!steven, teasing, voyeurism in a sense.

etc: this is based on this and this ask, i kind of strayed from the initial idea since i plan on writing a version of this, but not quite the same, with marc and other oscar characters, but me writing steven as a dom? shocking i know lmao.

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

“Does he do it better than me?” Steven hums, you’ve never heard his voice so deeply coated with jealousy and lust. The dynamic the three of you had was always so well laid out, who spent this time with you one day, or that time another day. Sometimes both of them at once. There had never been any fighting over you, over the moments shared with one of the other. It was an equal playing ground, you adored them both the same as they loved you the same.

Competition didn’t fit into the cracks of this unique relationship, and yet it was somehow showing it’s childish head right now.

Peering from around a corner with a sinister smirk as your palm dug into the edge of the mirror, Steven’s hand moving between your thighs as the pad of his finger rubbed circles against your clit; heavy pants mixed with moans spilling from your mouth, Steven’s dirty words making you clench around his thickness as it fucked up into you.

Your lids feel heavy, the exhaustion of being toyed with and fucked for what feels like hours—all in the means of proving a point—seeping into you bone deep. Steven’s other arm having to hold up your waist to prevent you from falling forward; and just letting him use you.

His reflection shows blown out pupils tainted with determination of sexual prowess. Sometimes a smirk will cross his lips and you know Marc must have said something, must be toying with him—with both of you.

“Tell me, love.” Steven grunts against your ear, “can he fuck you this good? You’re so wet for me, grippin’ me so tight.”

You don’t know how, or why, this came to be; Steven fucking you in front of a mirror. Your entire naked body on display in front of it as he pounds into you, your chest heaving, a sheen of sweat coating your breasts and abdomen as he makes you come for the third time tonight. Part of you wants to feel annoyance or some kind of begrudging feeling at both men using you as some dick swinging contest, but it’s hard to do when Steven feels so good inside of you. When each thrust of his hips hitting your ass coats his filthy words to you—and Marc—so ridiculously obscene, how you can hear the wet noises of his cock merge with your pitiful moans as he uses you, plays with you, toys with you; it’s hard to feel anything other than this, to think about anything other than Steven.

Marc being an afterthought. Only remembered when Steven prompts you again: “thinks he knows your body, how to please you, you were mine first, he wouldn’t know how to touch you if it wasn’t for me. gotta show him how to fuck you right.”

“Steven,” you moan, body leaning back into his until he makes a disapproving sound and is straightening you back up.

“Don’t move, love. Marc needs to see you, needs to watch my fingers play with this perfect pussy of yours. How else will he learn?” You catch a glimpse of Steven’s smirk—at Marc—before your eyes are shutting in ecstasy, the building pleasure of the fingers against your clit, the cock inside of you, and how filthy and needy you must look like right now to Marc all bringing you closer and closer to coming again.

Both boys had a way of mixing pleasure and torture so good that you felt devilish with how bad you wanted them both. How bad you wanted to be face down and ass up for Marc, or spread out atop Steven’s desk for him. Steven had you first but now you belonged to both of them. You were addicted to both of them. Loved fucking both of them. Your mind can’t wrap itself around choosing which one fucks better, which one makes you come harder. They both leave you breathless and throbbing to the point of exhaustion.

But you will gladly let them use you for these silly little games again. Will happily let Steven showcase you in front of a mirror for Marc’s eyes, for him to be envious of; the image of how deeply torn with sexual desire and need he must look like right now makes a shuttering gasp catch in your lungs.

“Tell him how good it feels, tell him you’re mine.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, his eyes shifting from yours to the other side of the mirror. Steven’s saying something but it’s not to you, it’s cocky and sneering and clipped at the end with a deep groan as your cunt clenches harder around him.

“I’m–fuck,” you’re almost there, so close. You can barely keep your neck upright, your eyes barely open.

His lips are pressed to your ear, his pants sending shivers down your spine, “it’s killing him not being able to touch you.” Steven’s fingers pick up speed on your clit, his cock following suit. “Come on my cock love, give Marc a show, yeah?”