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padfootagain · 3 months ago

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Love in Verses (XXXI)

Chapter 31 : ‘Six billion tons sounds impossible until I consider how it is to swallow grief’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! This is The Party… chapters 31 and 32 are twin chapters, the party will be told from both perspectives, this one from Andrew’s and the next one from MC’s. Just so you know…

This is one of the first scenes I’ve written when I began working on this project, so I’m quite fond of it even if it makes me cry…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3678

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Watching my friend pretend her heart isn’t breaking

On Earth, just a teaspoon of neutron star would weigh six billion tons. Six billion tons equals the collective weight of every animal on earth. Including the insects. Times three.

Six billion tons sounds impossible until I consider how it is to swallow grief – just a teaspoon and one might as well have consumed a neutron star. How dense it is, how it carries inside it the memory of collapse. How difficult it is to move then. How impossible to believe that anything could lift that weight.

There are many reasons to treat each other with great tenderness. One is the sheer miracle that we are here together on a planet surrounded by dying stars. One is that we cannot see what anyone else has swallowed.

Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

It was working, Andrew was certain of it.

He had hoped it wouldn’t, that seeing you flirt with another man would leave Frank unbothered, ignoring you completely. It was a little cruel, maybe, because it meant that you would be sad, that you would be hurt by his reaction. But as he stared at you letting a man trace a line up your arm… your bare arm…

Andrew looked away, feeling sick, feeling like his world was crushing down around him. Collapsing. It was like… like being dumped by Samantha all over again…

He downed his whiskey, letting the burn of the liquor ground him to the present once more, but the relief was temporary, and soon enough, he was looking up at you again and you were leaning to whisper something in that stranger’s ear.

He turned around this time, unable to stomach the sight of him resting a hand on your waist.

The plan was simple. You were to make Frank jealous, by wearing that divine dress you had bought with Andrew, by flirting with another man. Andrew had thought about playing that role, being the man you would flirt with, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t have survived the cruelty of that situation, of you faking to be interested in him that way. Not when he loved you so ardently. And so, he was merely keeping an eye on you now, staying close to one of the tables where whiskey was being poured generously, avoiding to talk to anyone at this gigantic party, checking that you were safe, while you let another man flirt with you and touch your waist…

He downed another glass…

“You’re alright, Andy?”

He turned to his left, following the voice that now called him. Samantha, of all people… brilliant.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” he answered, shifting awkwardly.

“Thanks for coming today. I’m glad we can still be friends despite all of this. I know that it must be… peculiar sometimes, but… Thank you, I truly appreciate it.”

“No need to thank me for that.”

She placed a hand on his forearm, and once, not so long ago, it would have made his heart grow warm. Now, he felt nothing. It felt like they had happened a lifetime ago, the days when he loved her.

He thought of you, behind him, and he tried not to picture you kissing that stranger, because then he…

He poured himself another whiskey, downed it again.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” she asked, raising up an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen you drinking so much since college!”

“Well, we’re celebrating, aren’t we?”

“Andy?”

“Hmm?”

He looked at her once more. Her and her dark hair, and her beautiful eyes, and the lips he thought he would spend the rest of his life kissing. How strange… now she let another man kiss them, and he wanted to kiss someone else… Their mouths didn’t belong together anymore. And Andrew then realised that he was okay with that. He wasn’t okay with how it had all happened, how it was still happening… but he couldn’t picture himself loving her again. He was looking at her, beautiful and perfect on paper… and all he could think of was you.

The music was loud, they had to raise their voices to be heard over the shallow beats. The chatter of the room Sam and Frank had rented for the special occasion was almost deafening. Andrew’s head was spinning a little, the alcohol kicking in. He still wanted another drink…

“Do you… do you hate me?”

He frowned, surprised by her question, by how direct it was too. She was a pro at circling an issue.

He thought for a moment, didn’t find an obvious answer.

When he thought of hate, he thought of that man with his hand on your body. He thought of Frank and the way he still made your heart bleed…

“Why are you asking this?” he asked back instead of answering.

“Because I… I know that the way we ended things was… messy. But I don’t want you to hate me. I… I still care about you, Andy, even if…”

“Even if you don’t love me anymore.”

It was becoming a little hard to remain standing, his world was spinning.

Were you still there with that guy? Would you… would you let him kiss you the way you had let Andrew do it in your office? God… would you be the one kissing him, the way you had kissed Andrew that night in your flat?

Samantha blinked, Andrew was puzzled as he noticed tears in her eyes.

“I think… a part of me is always going to love you, Andy.”

His eyes grew round in surprise. Was it working? Was their stupid, idiotic, foolish plan working? This was ridiculous…

… would you go back to loving Frank? Frank was a fucking dickhead…

“Do you ever wonder what could have been our lives if we had remained together?”

I wouldn’t have loved Y/N the way I do now…

And yet a couple of seconds later, he was changing his thought.

I would have fallen for her still… despite loving you…

“I used to,” he answered truthfully, stopping his answer before it would hurt her, but she insisted.

“And now?”

He was too drunk to lie. And if he were to be fully honest, he didn’t mind being rough, hurting her a little. He hated himself for the selfishness of it, but he answered earnestly anyway.

“Not anymore, no.”

“Really?”

“I… I don’t think of you like that anymore. I’ve moved on.”

She raised an eyebrow, but seemed unimpressed.

“Have you? So quickly?”

He shifted, uncomfortable. And he didn’t like being bitter, being too honest and being hurtful because of it, but… but you were flirting with another man, and Andrew was drinking too much tonight… And you were wearing that green dress, the one you had bought together, and he could picture you now, and he didn’t want Frank to see you in it and regret you, because he didn’t deserve it and… and you had bought that fucking dress for Frank… for Frank…

“I don’t love you anymore,” he said plainly, the flatness of his tone hurtful by itself. “Like I… I’m not in love with you. I… I want someone else.”

“Someone else?” she asked, and her voice was annoyed but he noticed the glimmer of a tear at the corner of her eyes.

She was hurt. But then again, she had been the one shattering his heart and his self-esteem, and his world, and the confidence he had taken so long to build…

He went on anyway.

“Yeah… I… we’re not dating or anything. But I… I like her. A lot.”

“Have you asked her out?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think she’d be interested. That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

No, he didn’t mind that you didn’t feel the same. You were a little too good for him anyway. Out of his league. You ought to deserve better…

“Now, that’s just your head saying dumb things,” she said, and even if her tone wasn’t kind, her words were reassuring.

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

“Andy… when are you going to understand that… You do deserve to be happy? That you are worthy of happiness too, huh?”

His next comment was unnecessary, but it felt good to tell the truth anyway.

“I had grown better at that while we were together. You breaking up with me to run off with someone else kind of destroyed that progress…”

He stopped resisting the urge to drink, reached for another whiskey, downed it in one gulp.

“I’m sorry, Andy. But we… weren’t right for each other.”

He wanted to argue, for the sake of it, to contradict her, but he was honest instead.

“I have to agree with that.”

He looked in your direction again, just a quick glance, just to check that you were alright. Frank was staring at you from afar too. That guy was leaning closer now, although you didn’t seem so willing to play along anymore. Andrew’s heart quickened, and soon it was pounding…

“Andy?”

“Hmm?” he asked back without looking at Samantha.

A sign… just one sign from you and he would come and make sure that guy would stand back…

Frank seemed to have read your body language as well, the bastard… he was walking over to you. Andrew closed his fists tightly, refraining from crossing the distance between you and him, from pushing that guy away, from telling Frank to fucking leave you alone because, Christ, you deserved so much better than him…

“Are you listening to me?”

Andrew almost jumped as Sam touched his arm again…

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, yeah… sorry, I was… lost in thought…”

“I was saying that I’m glad you and Y/N seem to get along. As you’re working together. I was worried when I learned she was Frank’s ex that it would make things awkward at your workplace.”

“We’re fine.”

I’ve fallen in love with her when I didn’t even think I was capable of loving anyone else after you…

“She seems nice,” she added, but her voice was weirdly flat.

“She is,” Andrew nodded, his heart fluttering as he talked of you. “She’s… she’s grand. She’s really nice, and… she’s a laugh, like… and very smart too.”

“Sounds like a catch.”

He didn’t answer, she didn’t seem to notice.

She was staring at you now too, while Frank had reached you and that stranger. He was talking with the guy, seemingly ignoring you, and even from afar Andrew could see that you were disappointed. The son of a bitch. He was pushing that guy away, without acknowledging you, he was making you feel terrible about yourself, Andrew could tell, and…

“I wonder what Frank saw in her.”

Andrew pondered on her question, and… God, he had so many things he saw in you. Your kindness, your wits, your passion for your work, your sense of humour, your smile, your eyes, the curve of your eyelashes, how fucking smart you were, your warmth, your voice, your way to scrunch up your nose a little when you were thinking, your anger, your talent, your…

… you, just… you…

But Frank? Did he see all that?

How could he have seen all of that, and still leave you?

The guy you had been talking to left, his drink in hand and a polite smile on his lips. Frank turned to you, got a conversation started. And Andrew wished he was right when he thought he could read in your expression that you were forcing yourself to look happy with his attention. Andrew didn’t believe in God, but he prayed still, silently, for you to see that Frank was not good enough for you, for you to long for his company instead… Christ, he hoped he was right when he read in the way you leaned away from Frank that you had changed your mind, that you didn’t want him to touch you the way he had just held your arm…

“Anyway, who’s the lucky woman you’ve spotted then? Do I know her?”

Andrew looked at Samantha, but he couldn’t hide the annoyance in his voice as he answered.

“I don’t really want to talk about that with you, honestly.”

“Right…”

Frank was taking a step closer to you, his hand inching for your waist…

Andrew was never one to pick up a fight, but he wanted to punch your ex in the face so bad…

“I feel a lot of resentment today, Andy…” Samantha said, trying to dissect his brain, the way she used to when they were together, but Andrew was not in the mood. “Did something happen?”

He let out a long exhale through his nose, refused to answer.

“You said you were ready to put all that happened behind us.”

He was about to argue, but he couldn’t. She was right. What a fucking fool he had been… to think that he should still want her after she broke what they had spent years building, for some random guy she had met a few weeks before. And then she was inviting him to her wedding, and he was there running back right into her arms? She was marrying Frank after knowing him for mere months when she had claimed not to be ready for marriage with Andrew when they had spent seven years together? She had not even agreed to move in with him… It seemed to hit him then, how much of a fool he had been, and the little self-esteem he had left finally took over to show him that he deserved better than to be treated like that. Anyone would deserve better. He was being an absolute fool. And you were too, you and your broken heart and he couldn’t do this anymore, he couldn’t pretend that all this was alright, that he didn’t want to kiss you…

He had one last question to ask, one last thought that was holding him back, one last answer he was too afraid to receive. He finally asked it.

“Frank left Y/N two weeks before you left me,” he started, the coldness of his tone unusual for him. “Did you sleep with him while we were together?”

Samantha blinked.

“Why are you asking me this?” she asked back, but Andrew didn’t back down, his hazel eyes turned into steel.

“Answer me. Did you sleep with Frank before you left me?”

She remained silent, and he knew what it meant.

He thought he would be hurt, and he was, but the main emotion that came rising in his chest, made his blood boil, blinded him for a moment, was hate. Rage and hate. A lethal combo…

He huffed, shook his head.

“I left right after, and it wasn’t planned… it happened once, and then I left, and it didn’t last… it’s not like I was having an affair.”

“Shut it!” Andrew hissed. “Just… shut up for once!”

Her eyes grew round. It was so unlike Andrew to use such a mean tone…

“Andy…”

“I can’t believe you did something like this to me…”

“You’re not perfect either, Andrew, don’t pretend…”

“Don’t pretend what?! That I was always faithful to you? That I loved you? That I wanted to spend my life with you when you dumped me for a guy you barely knew?!”

“And why do you think I did that?” she answered, with venom in her words, and Andrew hated himself for falling for it. He knew she was being mean, that he shouldn’t have believed her, but he was the one always doubting his own worth, he couldn’t help it… “I’m sorry, Andrew, but you weren’t perfect either. And the truth is, I wasn’t happy enough with you.”

The word enough echoed in his head, out of context, he applied it to himself. He could feel his brain starting to spiral… but he forced his gaze to remain on Samantha. His thoughts had turned to you, and he had to check…

“Did Frank cheat on Y/N too?”

“What does it matter to you…?”

“Just. Answer. The. Damn. Question,” he hissed through gritted teeth, struggling not to shout it instead.

She heaved a sigh, but answered still.

“No… no, he didn’t. The first time anything happened between us was three days before we two broke up. And Frank had already ended things with Y/N to be with me.”

Andrew heaved a sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” he breathed, running a hand through his hair, and Samantha frowned at his reaction.

“What does it matter to you?” she snapped.

“It matters to me that I’m glad her partner didn’t do this to her,” he replied, grabbing another drink.

“If you’re so angry at me, what are you doing here?”

Andrew bit the inside of his cheek to refrain his earnest answer.

Because Y/N needs me here.

“Honestly, I have no fucking clue…”

He downed yet another glass, walked away before Samantha could answer anything, and he headed towards the exit, fleeing the reception. He caught your eyes as he was passing not too far from you, refrained his urge to reach for you and hold you close, but his expression made you frown.

The cold air hit his cheeks, he realised he hadn’t picked up his jacket. The alcohol was getting to his head, the inky sky filled with stars was spinning above his head. He spotted an area with a few trees and a corner covered with grass. He aimed his feet in that direction, unstable, struggling to stay upright.

And you were still in there, with Frank, why fucking Frank, why him, why couldn’t you want…

“Andy?”

He turned around at the sound of your voice, almost falling in the process.

“You’re okay?” you asked while you walked closer, extending a hand to steady him if he needed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied.

“Are you drunk?”

“A little bit,” he admitted, averting his eyes in a sheepish way.

“Do you want me to take you home? I didn’t drink at all tonight…”

But the image of Frank leaning closer, reaching for your waist flashed before his eyes. He clenched his jaw, opening and closing his fists repeatedly, not knowing what to do now with his own body, with his too-long limbs, with the knowledge that you too wanted Frank and not him. And Andrew hated that guy for taking everything he wanted away. For making Samantha leave him. For taking the life he thought he was going to build with her. But most importantly, for taking you away, even now… Andrew hated your ex for hurting you, for breaking your heart, and for being unable to let you go, for dragging you along with him, for keeping you dependent when he had someone else, and of course… of bloody course, Andrew had to fall for you, when you loved Frank.

What could you see in a guy like him? What did Andrew lack that made you unable to choose him instead of Frank?

He sat down in the grass, his brain swarming with thoughts that made him as dizzy as the liquor did.

“I think I’m… gonna stay here for a couple of minutes,” he answered, voice distant and words slurred by too much whiskey.

You sat down beside him.

“You’re okay?” you asked again, voice gentle, caring. Andrew wanted to cry at the sound, to hide in your arms and let it all out… his rage against Samantha, his jealousy against Frank, his love for you…

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Frank?” was his answer instead of yielding to his own wants and lean closer.

“You didn’t seem well.”

“I’m fine. This is your chance, it was working…”

He saw you clenching your jaw, even if there wasn’t much light around the venue. The parking lot was close by, with a few lampposts there. The moon was high and bright though, and through the windows of the venue behind the two of you, light was pouring into the night. It made for a dim lighting, but just enough for him to distinguish your features.

“I’d rather stay with you for a while,” you breathed, something pained and aching in your voice.

That fucking asshole… Andrew was certain Frank had hurt you somehow, said something wrong…

“I saw you talking with Samantha… what did she say?” you asked, changing subject and aiming straight for the sensitive one without knowing.

It was Andrew’s turn to clench his jaw. He didn’t say anything.

“What did she say?”

He shrugged, but you insisted, and he ended up yielding.

“She cheated on me with Frank.”

Your eyes grew round, and there was wrath shining in them too.

“He didn’t cheat on you,” Andrew hurried to add, wanting to alleviate your pain and worry, but your expression didn’t change. “It happened right after he broke up with you, but she hadn’t broken up with me yet… so technically…”

“What a fucking bitch…” you spat, and he was surprised by the harshness of your words, so much so that he giggled.

“Yeah, you can say that.”

“I’m so sorry, Andy,” you breathed, reaching to rub his back.

“It’s okay. I just… I just want to forget her now.”

You nodded but looked away.

“So… I’m losing my partner in crime for good?” you joked, but there was something strained in your voice, revealing of some kind of ache.

“I’ll still help you with Frank, that’s alright. If… if that’s what makes you happy…”

He froze when you leaned closed, rested your head on his shoulder. He reached out without thinking, the alcohol making him bolder than he usually was, and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in a tight hug. You remained like this for a couple of minutes, or perhaps a little longer than that, Andrew wasn’t sure. He was too drunk to notice the passing of time, he felt too warm holding you in his arms…

“Let’s get you home, Andy,” you broke the comfortable silence that had settled around you, broke his embrace to get up. You offered him your hand and helped him up, let him lean on you while you walked to your car.

And he wanted to tell you that he loved you, that he had for some time now. That he didn’t want Samantha anymore, only you. That he dreamt of you in his bedsheets, dreamt of what you would look like under him, dreamt of kissing your eyelashes. That he wanted to hold your hand, that he looked at you sometimes when you worked, in your shared office, because he just couldn’t help it. That you were beautiful, that he thought about you all the time, that he couldn’t eat at the thought of spending a moment with you. That he wanted to kiss you now, and forget about your exes, and take you on a nice date, whatever you would like.

He wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t.

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #hozier fic #hozier au #hozier professor au #hozier series #series #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #professor au

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janeyseymour · 11 months ago

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Love Thy Neighbor- pt 10

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9.

Summary: With your ex-husband in town, this is sure to be interesting.

WC: ~2.4k

I’m in Philly this weekend. We should talk.

The good mood that you were in from waking up in your girlfriend’s arms sours at that text, and she notices.

“Hey,” she whispers as she kisses your temple, also rolling out of bed. “You’re upset.”

“I’m not,” you shrug. “I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you sigh. “I should probably go check on El. You comin’?”

The redhead nods and follows you into Ellie’s room, where she’s playing on the floor with a few of her dolls.

“Momma! Mel!” she grins up at the two of you. Immediately, she’s launching herself at you, and if either her or Melissa notice the way that you cling to your daughter only a bit desperately they don’t say anything. You lift your little girl onto your hip and hold her close, smoothing down her wild locks and kissing her temple. Melissa follows suit, and she grins when Ellie kisses her cheek back.

“Breakfast?” your daughter looks to your girlfriend with those sweet eyes of hers.

“Obviously,” Melissa chuckles. “And what does the princess want?”

“Chocolate chip pancakes!” Ellie cheers. When you give her a look, she quickly adds on a, “Pretty please!”

The three of you head for the kitchen, and while your daughter and your girlfriend mix the batter together and start heating up the griddle, you stare at your phone contemplating what you should do.

“Penny for your thoughts, hun?” Melissa breaks your trance as she sets a plate full of the breakfast food in front of you. Ellie comes bouncing over with the butter and syrup a few short moments later.

“We can talk later,” you tell her softly. “When we take El to the park.”

Once you finally get Ellie ready for the park and get yourself ready, you head out. Melissa drives the two of you there, and as soon as she can, Ellie is running for the swings. You and your girlfriend walk hand in hand to find a park bench to sit on and keep an eye on your little girl.

“So, what has my girl down?” the redhead asks you once she’s sure your daughter can’t hear her.

“Jared texted me. Said he’s in Philly, and we should talk.”

Her face flickers through a few different emotions before settling on a neutral face. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Honestly? Like I never want to see him again, but I also have El to think about. He is still her father.”

“And he gave up his parental rights,” she reminds you. “Willingly, and without hesitation.”

“I know, I know,” you sigh as you set your head on her shoulder. “But if he wants to reach out in order to stay in Ellie’s life, I cannot deprive my child of her father.”

“You can,” she tells you.

“But it wouldn’t be right… especially because El… she loved her Daddy before everything got messy.”

“It’s up to you, hun,” your girlfriend says. “But I would be cautious.”

“I know, I know,” you mutter.

Ellie has a blast at the park like she always does, but after about an hour she’s running back to you with rosy cheeks and telling you she’s sleepy. Melissa carries her back to the car, and in the short ten minute drive back to the apartment complex, she falls asleep in her carseat clutching one of the stuffed animals Melissa keeps in her car now. You lift her out of her carseat and hold her tightly as you make your way up to your apartment. You settle on the couch with her, still in your arms while your girlfriend heads for the kitchen.

“Are you good if I make eggplant parm?” she calls softly.

“That sounds great,” you sigh out.

As she cooks dinner, humming quietly to herself, you continue to torture yourself with the pros and cons of texting Jared back. Ultimately, you tell him that if he’s serious, you can meet him for coffee tomorrow- preferably around the time when Melissa will be going to mass.

His response is almost an immediate one. So the two of you set a time and a place, and you know that come tomorrow morning, you’re going to have to make an excuse to your girlfriend as to why you can’t join her for the church service tomorrow.

Ellie stays asleep up until Melissa calls in that dinner is ready. She clings to the redhead through dinner, claiming that she’s warmer than you are. Despite Melissa trying to get her to stay with you (she knows you need Ellie to keep you grounded right now), your daughter insists on staying in her lap.

Your routine through the end of the night goes on as usual, and when you and Melissa finally lay down for bed, you have an awful pit in your stomach as you prepare to lie to her.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you mumble with your head on her chest. “But I’m not feeling too great right now.”

“Oh?” Melissa looks at you. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Just… cramps. Probably PMS.”

She’s immediately out of bed and grabbing some ibuprofen and the heating pad, and you feel even more guilty at your lie. Melissa is so willing to take care of you and love you through everything.

You’re lulled to sleep with the extra warmth provided by the heat on your abdomen as well as your girlfriend gently combing her fingers through your hair and her soft humming.

The next morning, you wake up and you wish that you were lying to Melissa when you said that your cramps were awful- they really are. But you also know that this is going to be the perfect way to get out of going to the long church service with her, and you know she’ll take Ellie with her to let you ‘rest’.

She does, and you stay in bed until they both head out. And then you run around like a maniac trying to make yourself look presentable to meet your ex-husband.

You arrive at the coffee shop you agreed to meet at, and he’s already sitting with two cups in front of him. You drop into the seat across from his, and he pushes one of the cups in your direction.

“Hey!” he smiles at you, and it’s that damned charming smile that made you fall for him in the first place.

You stare at him for a few minutes in a steely silence. Why did you come here? “What do you want?” is all you ask him as you take a sip of the coffee in hopes of it soothing your nerves. You cradle your abdomen in hopes that your cramps begin to subside soon.

“Damn,” he chuckles. “I come all the way out here to meet you, and that’s the greeting I get?”

“I didn’t ask you to. What do you want?” you ask him again.

He looks a bit stunned that this is the approach you’ve decided to take with him. He’s so used to you being meek and mild, warm and gentle. “I just wanted to catch up.”

“I’m doing just fine out here, with my daughter,” you say shortly.

His eyes go soft. “How is Ellie?”

“She’s fine.”

“C’mon, Y/N,” your ex sighs. “Listen, I’m sorry about everything that happened.”

“You should be,” you laugh bitterly. “You broke apart our family, and for what? To go fuck someone newer and younger? Tighter?” you quote back one of his texts to Jen that you saw after you caught him in bed with her.

“Y/N, I was an idiot,” he tells you. You nod with a smirk. “I came out here to tell you that I want us to get back together.”

“Not a chance in hell,” you snort.

“Then at least let me see Ellie,” he tries. “C’mon. You owe me that.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” you tell him. “You cheated on me, and then signed away your parental rights without hesitation. And I’m still waiting for all of your child support money. So, I see it that if I don’t have the money in my hand by the end of this meeting-”

“Where is Ellie?” he asks quietly. “I was hoping she would be with you.”

“With our neighbor,” you say. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“You left her with your neighbor?” he asks you incredulously.

You nod. “I did. I trust Melissa- my girlfriend.”

He raises both of his eyebrows at that reveal. “Moved on so quick?”

“You moved on before you even took your ring off, so don’t give me any fucking shit, Jared,” you hiss out. “Babysitter fucker.”

“I didn’t realize you still swung that way. I thought I fucked the gay out of you,” he smirks.

“Oh, eat shit,” you stand from your place and throw your hot coffee in his face. “Don’t bother getting in touch unless it’s to fork over the child support. If I don’t have it by the end of the month, I will be getting a lawyer.”

You head out to leave the shop, and who do you run into on your way out the door but Melissa and Ellie. Your girlfriend gives you quite the questioning look, considering you were sick in bed an hour ago.

“Momma!” your little girl shouts as she slams into your body to hug you.

You groan softly at the contact, but lift her into your arms and hold her tightly, praying she doesn’t see her father. Melissa kisses you at the same time that Ellie gasps, points, and shouts, “Daddy!”

You close your eyes and give a face of pure defeat. You were just caught.

“Ellie girl!” your ex-husband replies with the same amount of enthusiasm, and your daughter is wiggling her way out of your arms to run over to her father. He scoops her up into the biggest hug, despite the fact that he’s still covered in your beverage.

“You came here to meet Jared?” Melissa whispers as she eyes the man.

You nod sheepishly before attempting to make your way over to the two of them. You have to stop about halfway there, gasping in pain as your stomach twists in knots. Your girlfriend follows, an arm wrapped around you protectively.

“Daddy, you’re all wet!” Ellie giggles.

“You know Daddy,” he chuckles in the easy way that he used to with her. “Clumsy, clumsy.”

“Silly Daddy,” your little girl playfully rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically.

“How are you, little girl?”

Your daughter grins as she launches into her stories. “I love it here! I love school, and Momma and I go to the park all the time with Miss Mel like we are today!” she points to Melissa. “That’s Miss Mel, and I love her. She’s my favoritest person in the whole wide world!”

You have to bite back a snort when you see the hurt expression on his face, and you beam when you see your girlfriend’s proud look. You don’t even care that you aren’t your daughter’s favorite person right now because at least it isn’t him.

“And Miss Ellie’s favorite person in the world brought her down here to pick up some coffee and doughnuts for being such a good little girl at church today,” Melissa cuts in. “Which I think we should do, what do you think El?”

The little girl absolutely beams as she remembers why they’re here, and she runs for the redhead.

They head off towards the counter, and your eyes turn to stone again as you face your ex-husband.

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to play here, but quit it. You��re not getting her back,” you hiss. You turn on your heel and make your way up to where your girlfriend and daughter are ordering.

“I already ordered your coffee,” Melissa tells you with a kiss to the temple. She readjusts Ellie so she can grab her wallet from her pocket, but before she can insert the card, Jared is there handing over some money.

“I got this one,” he says cooly. “For my little girl, and my wife.”

There’s a fire in Melissa’s eyes, and before she can get anything out, Ellie pipes up. “You and Momma aren’t married anymore!”

Your mouth, along with Melissa’s and Jared’s, form into shocked faces. Your little girl is right.

“But thanks for breakfast anyway,” you laugh in his face. “Bye.”

You hope that he’ll just leave in anger, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns his eyes even softer and his voice even smoother. “Well, I was hoping that I could maybe tag along to the park to spend some time with my little girl who I’ve missed so much.”

Fuck. Now he’s using Ellie against you, and you know your daughter will beg you to let him come.

“I missed you too, Daddy,” your daughter whispers softly, but she keeps her hold on Melissa.

“Not today, sweetheart,” the redhead says quietly as she runs a hand through your daughter’s hair. “Your momma isn’t feeling super well, so today is going to be an easy day.”

You nod along.

“Maybe another day this week then,” he shrugs. He isn’t giving up. “I’m here all week for a work conference.” With that, he kisses Ellie’s head, kisses your own, and then heads out.

A tense silence washes over Melissa and you as you wait for your coffees to finish being prepared. Ellie just hums to herself softly as she lays her head down on the redhead’s shoulder and fiddles with the ends of your girlfriend’s hair.

Your names are called, you grab the coffees, and make your way out to her car- you silently thank God that you won’t have to take the Septa now.

No words are spoken between you and your girlfriend for the entirety of the drive home, and when you make your way to your apartment, she turns for her own door.

“You aren’t coming in?” you ask quietly, and you hate the way that your voice breaks.

“I need ten minutes,” she says scarily calmly. “To change and collect myself.”

Fuck. She’s mad. Deciding that it’s best to give her the ten minutes she’s requested, you unlock your own front door and take Ellie to the kitchen table to enjoy her breakfast.

Tags (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @nothere1111 @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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yesiamprocrastinating · 4 months ago

Text

Pandora wasn’t always friends with her brother’s friends. Evan never purposely excluded her, of course, but they were in different houses and Pandora was alright being on her own anyway. She really didn’t mind being alone. It was nice actually. She was quite content with her own company. Her thoughts were a constant chatter in her mind, she could have a full long debates and conversations with just herself.

Sometime in her third year, Pandora was walking along in the hallway, occasionally mumbling aloud as she worked out a problem in her head. She just couldn’t get this one spell right that she had been working on. She knew the answer would eventually come to her, it just was taking longer than she expected this time.

Somebody harshly bumped into her, sending her roughly into a wall. The books she had been carrying flew everywhere and scattered across the ground.

Pandora looked over to see who had collided with her and saw a group of three Slytherin boys walking away and snickering.

“Excuse me,” she called after them, “Are you alright?”

The boys stopped in their tracks and turned around slowly.

Oh, she knew them. Mulciber, Avery, and Snape. She had heard many complaints from her brother about how obnoxious the older Slytherins were.

“What?” One of them asked, looked genuinely confused. Ah poor boy, perhaps he needs to get his hearing checked as well as his eyes.

“I asked if you are alright.” Pandora explained slowly so that they understood.

The boy, Mulciber, she thinks, scoffed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well you crashed into me, despite this being quite a large hallway. So I figured you might be injured in some way since you clearly cannot walk or see properly. Or is it a mental problem? Do you need me to get Madam Pomfrey?”

The boy’s eyes widened in rage. He strode forward and pushed her into the wall again.

“Why you little-“

“Hey! Get away from her!”

Pandora calmly raised her wand and said clearly, “Flosfaciem.”

The older boy’s looked confused for a moment. Then, suddenly, a flower began to grow out of his skin, right next to his nose. He didn’t notice it at first. Then a flower grew on his forehead. Then his cheek. His chin. Right above his eye.

Soon he began to scream as his entire face had sprouted little flowers.

“GET IT OFF! WHAT IS HAPPENING? GET THE BLOODY THINGS OFF!”

The three boys ran away, hopefully toward the hospital wing.

“Oh. So it does work.” Pandora commented to herself happily, putting away her wand. She turned around and saw three other boys staring at her in shock.

Evan still had his wand raised from when he had been about to curse Mulciber. His two friends, Barty and Regulus, stood next to him looking equally wary and impressed.

“What the bloody hell just happened?” Barty asked, aghast.

“I figured out that spell I had been working on!” Pandora exclaimed excitedly, “I was pretty sure I had it right but I didn’t have anything to test it on so I couldn’t be sure. But it was definitely right! It worked perfectly!”

“So sorry to interrupt. That is great, fabulous, really. Just checking here, are you saying that you just invented a spell? And used Mulciber as your guinea pig?”

Pandora scowled, “I would never use an animal to experiment. That’s just cruel. They haven’t done anything.”

Evan’s other friend, Regulus, interrupted Barty before he could say anything else.

“That was incredible. Do you think you could teach me that spell?”

Pandora beamed, “Of course!”

Pandora and Regulus began to walk together and discuss different spells Pandora had invented or was working on. Before they rounded the corner, she heard Barty remark to her brother, “Damn Rosier. Why didn’t you tell us your sister is so cool?”

Pandora wasn’t alone after that. And she found that not being alone was nice too.

also, I thought I should probably tag all the people who said they were interested in this so: @noblehouseofgay @bralnwashed @l1ve-l4ugh-lov3craft @cosyfroggo @obsessedwithstuff @thatoneslytherinnerd

#pandora lovegood #pandora rosier #slytherin skittles #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #regulus and sirius #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #dead gay wizards #marauders microfic #rosier twins #elle's microfics

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joocomics · 2 months ago

Text

LONG STORY SHORT

─ ⋆ dinna’s holiday special 2024 ⋆༄

✭ event is 18+ only

pairing: non-idol!jungsu x fem!reader

genre: smut w/ a sprinkle of plot wc: 8.5k

summary: when christmas comes around you know your emotions will be all over the place, because the one thing your parents look forward to the most, is inviting their best friends whose son kim jungsu is the guy you try to not think about unless you want to make your standards even higher, and your chances to find a boyfriend soon - lower. one sleepless night turns into an opportunity to look back on some shared memories, but to also tell each other things both of you believed will remain unsaid...

contains: childhood friends au, friends to lovers trope, soft dom!jungsu, sprinkle of fluff, protected sex, lots of kissing, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, pet names, size kink, size training, praise kink, oral sex (f!rec)

[ event masterlist | general masterlist ]

“Do you think he’s still single?”

“Probably not.”

“Hmmm...” Your friend on the other line goes silent for a second. “I don’t see any pictures of him with a girl so far.”

“Are you lurking on his Instagram account right now???”

“I’m not lurking,” she calmly explains herself as you continue pacing around the room. Waiting. “I’m getting familiar with the guy that’s about to spend a night in your house. See if there’s anything suspicious that we should know about.”

“Jungsu is the most harmless guy I know.”

“I know you grew up together, but you haven’t talked about him a lot. I’m curious.”

You pick up a noise from outside and you peek through the window only to see the familiar car of Jungsu’s parents parking in front of your house.

“Shit, he’s here!” Your voice comes out barely audible.

It’s like you had to see it with your eyes to believe it - to believe that he’s really going to be in front of you just like before. Till now it has been just a possibility that may or may not happen which is ridiculous of you to think that way, because you always spend the Christmas holidays together.

There’s no Christmas without Kim Jungsu.

You tell your friend you’re gonna text her when you can and she giggles through one sly “have fun!” before hanging up.

You inhale a deep breath to control your heart rate that already quickens before you even hear the doorbell ring.

It feels just like last year, or, slightly more intense, judging by how much you’re overthinking the moment he’s going to walk through the front door.

There’s an echo inside your head; Why? Why? Why? But your brain cannot ponder the question right at this point of time. Not when you’re this giddy with excitement to see one of your closest friends again, but also nervous to face your first love - though unrequited it still turned you into the biggest hopeless romantic. You wouldn’t be the person you are right now without it.

You and Jungsu grew up together after all; you’ve shared so many things - from toys and lunch boxes to living on the same street. Even after you entered high school and started hanging out in two separate friend groups you continued walking to school every morning together only to wait for each other at the bus stop and return home together too. It was your tradition; a habit that your evolving interests and social lives couldn’t break.

Until you started college here, and he - three hours away - and you started drifting apart, texting each other only on special occasions or if provoked by an Instagram post, and ending birthday calls with you should visit me sometime, but neither of you ever did.

Maybe if his parents didn’t move to a different distanced neighbourhood as soon as the first school year started you would’ve stayed more in touch now. He would’ve been able to drop by your door for an hour every time he visits during semester breaks.

Maybe…

You’re about to run upstairs so it doesn’t look like you’ve been waiting for his arrival when your mom calls out for you to come back and stop being rude.

You keep your distance in the hallway with heart racing, breath hitched in your throat and eyes inspecting the scene in front of you. Your mom welcomes the guests warmly one by one and you do the same while helping out by taking the Christmas presents inside.

Jungsu walks in last, with a big backpack hanging from his broad shoulders and a navy blue beanie on his head. The hallway turns extra smaller now that he’s inside too, trying to make his way without pushing anyone to the ground.

As he patiently waits for his parents to take off their shoes and head to the living room so he can move around freely, he keeps staring at the floor, too flustered by your mother’s compliments on how handsome he’s become to look up. Once she’s had enough of admiring him and steps back, his eyes shift curiously in search to look for you.

They easily spot you, standing speechless in the corner, and although you take a second to react, his eyes crinkle into a smile on the instant.

You notice the soft upturn of the corners of his mouth, then the flush caused by the cold air on his cheeks and nose which you’ve always been fond of. Next, you feel his puffer jacket is freezing, because you shudder after he comes to embrace you into a hug.

That’s when the world around you finally stills.

“Your hair!” You gasp as you take a proper look at him after he removes the beanie.

“Hi to you too.” Jungsu chuckles softly.

He blinks at you few times with surprise as he takes a second to comprehend your astonished reaction; to acknowledge the small changes in your appearance. They’re something minor, but surely they are there, or he wouldn’t be feeling the need to stop what he’s doing and question what exactly feels different.

“You’ve never had such short hair before,” you note, hiding hands in the pockets of your jeans to suppress the urge to run fingers through what seems like a fresh haircut.

“Should I take this as a compliment or…”

“I mean, I just saw that you pretty much still suck at taking compliments so,” you shrug shoulders meanwhile Jungsu presses lips at the sight of your sarcastic face, because he cannot deny that observation of yours, “but I do like it.”

“You look good too.”

Your stomach makes a somersault and you look away, but seconds before you do, your face earns a glow that Jungsu does not miss out on noticing.

You thought that after such a jolly evening you’re going to fall asleep the moment you get into your bed, but turns out the lingering exciment keeps you awake and energised for longer.

It’s almost two in the morning when you go downstairs and make out some noise coming from the living room. Lights flicker in the darkness as you step in to discover that it’s not all coming from the decorated Christmas tree, it’s also Jungsu’s laptop. It’s resting on the coffee table with something playing in low volume as he’s occupying the entire couch by laying comfortably on his side.

You’re about to tiptoe when you see him shooting a curious glance over his shoulder the moment you close the door.

“Why are you awake?” He asks; his voice is not drowsy at all.

“I can’t fall asleep and got thirsty.”

Jungsu’s attention leaves the screen, suddenly too compelled by the appearance of your silhouette in front of him.

He reminds himself that you’re one of his best friends as he realises the beauty of your legs illuminated from the glowing desktop screen; they force his eyes to follow every small movement of your hips and to travel up your figure, noticing more parts of you for the very first time. You’re one of his best friends, but last year you weren’t wearing such little shorts… so exposing…

He needs to stop before it gets obvious and awkward.

“You?” You’re still standing up, taking another sip of water before placing the cup on the table.

“Same here.” Jungsu murmurs and sighs. He sits up then lifts his arms to stretch.

His plain white shirt rides up his body exposing a sliver of his lower abdomen. Your eyes fixate right upon it, staring at the waistband of his sweats that’s resting loosely on his waist too.

The cold water does not do anything to stop the heat from enveloping your body. Maybe it’s perhaps the reason you take longer to direct your shameless stare somewhere else; now there’s also a dangerous train of thoughts settling in your mind as you capture the intimate view.

“Severance?” You step forward to take a peek at what he’s watching in order to stop yourself while you still got time. “You got taste.”

“Have you seen it?” Jungsu raises brows as you sit down next to him.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty good mindfuck, isn’t it?”

Your question is followed by an unexpected notification from your phone that buzzes in your hand.

What ends up pleasantly surprising you is not the person who’s texting you, but the particular way in which Jungsu shows interest in them.

“Who’s thinking about you at this hour?”

Still to this day, he always listens to you share what you’re up to with genuine interest, and you listen to him do the same too, but with slightly different emotions you can bet. These few hours of alone time you get during the holidays are the moments when you learn new things about him as well, things that you probably wouldn’t have known otherwise, and as silly as it may sounds… sometimes those moments make you feel melancholic.

You’re happy that he found the place where he belongs, but you also miss him.

“Uhm, a friend of a friend…” You mumble, putting your phone away. “He texts me once in a while.”

“Do you like him?” Jungsu asks despite noticing the casual way you ignored the message.

“Not like that.” You suppress a chuckle. “He’s funny and nice to chat with, but that’s all.”

“So you like someone else?”

You stare at his familiar side profile as he continues to pay attention to the episode at the same time.

As if he feels your gaze lingering on his skin, Jungsu looks in your direction.

You swiftly switch your expression from astounded to laid back and unbothered by these straightforward questions which you were definitely not prepared for.

“Why are you the only one asking questions?”

“I don’t know,” Jungsu turns his gaze away from you again, letting the corners of his lips to slide up discreetly, “if there’s anything you want to ask me, go ahead.”

You hesitate for a moment. There are multiple things you’d like to know the answers of, but what if you don’t ask correctly and he gets a wrong impression?

Unsure if it’s the fact he’s not facing you or if it’s because it’s past midnight, your heart feels calm, allowing you to just go for it.

“Are you seeing or talking to someone right now?” You carefully focus on him as you don’t want to miss out on his next expression.

He barely makes one though.

“Nope,” he replies, keeping his eyes on the scene as he adds: “but there’s a girl I find pretty cute, I think.”

After you remain silent for a short moment, only releasing a quiet oh of surprise, Jungsu guides his vision to you and keeps it there.

“So you like funny guys, but humour and communicative skills is not everything.” His figure droops down a bit, letting him rest his head back comfortably against the couch. “What else are you looking for in a guy?”

“Well,” you sigh as if mentally you’re recalling an entire detailed list of qualities which makes the boy snicker. “I want him to be a gentleman. Trustworthy and kind. I need to know I can tell him anything and I want to be the only girl he thinks about.” You give him one wary look just in case. It’s clear he’s heeding your words that only speed up as you go. “I also like when they take care of their bodies… I like broad shoulders and nice arms. Pretty lips too.”

“Mmm,” Jungsu nods while letting all of that sink in, “well, they can’t work for pretty lips at the gym, you know?”

“I know, I just added that in.” A grin appears on your face as you lean against the back of the couch with one shoulder, but soon after it disappears. “My friends always tell me I need to lower my standards, do you think that’s true?”

“I don’t really think you have high standards to begin with.” Jungsu examines your expression carefully since your question doesn’t come out light heartedly like what you previously said. He’s aware you’re referring to something more serious that must be bothering you. “That’s exactly how a guy should treat you, if he doesn’t then you need to cut him off.”

You smile as a sign of appreciation, feeling your heart beating with joy too.

“We’ve had a similar conversation before, do you remember?”

“We have?”

Jungsu’s face scrunches a bit as he goes down memory lane, but you already have the exact moment replaying in your head as if it was yesterday. Severance is now forgotten, but still going in low volume.

“Yeah, after we graduated.” The images of the two of you in his room warm your heart as you cast your mind back to that sunny afternoon. “We were at your house and you were bragging about the new camera your parents had just bought you to get you excited for college.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Just a litttle bit.” You quickly dismiss his denial and Jungsu laughs without saying anything more so you can continue. “We were imagining how our first boyfriend and girlfriend would be like. We were visualising their appearance, wondering how and where we would meet them and all.”

You know Jungsu begins to recall the event when you see him cover his face with both hands. His muffled groan of embarrassment amuses you a lot; Why is he being flustered all of a sudden?

“Yeah, yeah, we did…” He mumbles in his palms before leaning back again. He seems to be lost in thought for a moment. “My first girlfriend wasn’t anything like that by the way.”

“My first boyfriend was anything but that,” you declare right after him as you burst laughing at the same time.

You grin at each other, feeling a sense of comfort from the mutual understanding.

The silence you find yourselves in again isn’t perplexing as it gives the two of you a chance to dive into more shared memories that are suddenly scattered in your minds. You reflect on differents parts of them without paying attention to the gaps that eventually start to multiply as the months pass by.

“We were so curious then,” Jungsu speaks up first; his voice drops lower as he muses, “about relationships, drinking, sex…”

Undeniably, the last word catches you off guard. You don’t comment right away, because you start to ponder about the same with cheeks tinged with blush.

“We couldn’t wait to see what all those experiences are going to feel like.”

“Yeah, that’s how we were.” You agree, keeping your fingers busy with the hem of your shorts.

“Y/N…”

As you were staring down at your lap your eyes snap back at the sound of your name and you meet Jungsu’s gaze; it seems to shine more softly now, or that’s just the nostalgia in your chest.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he says with voice laced in something bittersweet, “and I really think you deserve more than just a funny guy.”

You feel something around you shift and you’re unsure of how to handle it just yet. It’s like whatever was building up in the air during your conversation is now swirling, making you giddy and unsteady.

You thank him and you acknowledge how weak your voice is once it leaves your mouth, but you can’t do anything about it.

Neither of you breaks eye contact - is it because neither of you is bold enough to do it first or because neither of you wants to put an end to it in the first place? You can’t tell.

Jungsu’s eyes make the first movement in order to peek at your parted lips and just as quickly return to your fluttering lashes.

“I mean it,” he whispers, sliding his hand your way.

The tips of his fingers are centimeters away from your knee, resting on the cushion; one small move and you will feel their touch, but they remain still and courteous.

As your body is tempted to get closer, your heart starts to thump faster - not to warn you or stop you from the decision you’re about to make, but to remind you of how much exactly you want it.

You want him. It’s a scary thought, but perhaps, every love seems scary when it arises from friendship.

It all happens in a matter of two seconds - you cut the distance, Jungsu’s gentle hand moves on your thigh and you kiss him.

If a moment ago you were feeling dazed then now as your mouths get in contact for the first time ever you’re feeling absolutely under the influence. You’re feeling intoxicated by the softness of his lips and how they already move like they’ve got yours memorised; as if he was using that moment of silence to study them perfectly.

In a way his lips feel… familiar, as ridiculous it may sound, but the spark they bring you is strong nevertheless. Until you back away in panick from your impulsive actions.

Your heart is threatening to burst out.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry—“

“Come here,” Jungsu says under his breath and pulls you over his lap.

What follows after you straddle him doesn’t come close to the mellow kiss from earlier.

It looks and feels times more intense as Jungsu’s fingers grip on your waist beneath the fabric of your loose shirt. The way they explore anywhere they can reach, causing every spot they glide against to heat up, provokes the rush to rise in your tummy.

Your tongues roll against one another after you allow him to separate your lips; the delightful dance turns into a french kiss that you would’ve never imagine having with him one day.

Jungsu’s lips slowly detach, sighing as he finds out you’re not wearing any bra underneath. His hands cautiously retrieve to your hips, making you wonder what could be going through his head right now.

Is his mind calm? Or is it jittery like his heart that’s racing… you can feel it as you keep your hands on his chest.

“Should we…”

“Keep going?” Jungsu finishes your question after glancing at you. “Only if that’s what you want.”

You stop biting your lip and chuckle silently at his words. You thought what you want is pretty obvious and you find his wariness sweet.

“I want it.” You confess; slowly, so each letter sinks in his brain as you lean forward only to provoke him to kiss you deeply once more.

That’s when you feel a sudden movement beneath you - a quick twitch right between your legs that has you smiling coyly against his flushed lips.

“I don’t have any condoms in me.” He realises quietly while staying close to your mouth, swiping your bottom lip gently with his thumb. It’s like he cannot get enough of their plushness, their texture and taste.

When you lock eyes it becomes clear you’re thinking of the same thing.

“We can still go upstairs though.” The same finger that was tracing the shape of your lips now presses against your shorts, rubbing tenderly up and down exactly where you feel the irresistible heat looming from. The pleasure is barely there and yet it still makes you hold your breath. “I can make you feel nice in different ways... Unless you prefer to wait.”

He’s not saying this to tease you or to try to be flirtatious; you can see it in the genuine way he looks at you. Jungsu has never been like the rest.

Truthfully, like is a weak choice of word for what you feel about him.

You shake head right before you roll your hips against him, eager to feel more. You don’t want to wait; you can’t.

“Let’s go.”

Jungsu reaches behind you and shuts his laptop.

You can’t tell how many minutes you spend in your bed just kissing, - laying beneath him like this with legs intertwined and lips going numb against each other has turned time into something nonexistent. And his scent, familiar and so comforting, has put you in some sort of trance that you don’t want to escape from.

What has Jungsu leaving your mouth is his hand that ghosts over one of your breasts; the subtle feeling of your nipple poking through the fabric tempts him into giving it a light squeeze. Your figure starts reacting excitedly as he continues to caress it under the blouse, occasionally circling your nipple with his thumb.

Those cute responses against his hovering body make him move lower so he can scatter kisses on other places too. He wants to taste as much of you as possible.

Blissful sighs slip from your tongue as Jungsu’s puffy lips press against many different parts of your skin; his hands touch wherever his mouth can’t reach. The subtle way the tip of his tongue starts teasing the area between your bellybutton and the hem of your shorts causes your spine to bend from pleasant shockwaves.

His hands remain on your hips, but they seem to hesitate to continue when your eyes meet.

“I want to know you’re not going to regret this.”

You move one hand to his face that’s contorted with a mixture of emotions - one you’re perfectly familiar with the meaning of.

“I’m not, I promise.” You utter as your fingers finally get lost in his hair. “Can you say the same?”

“My only regret is that I didn’t do this sooner,” he admits, breathing out a soft sigh afterwards that almost turns into a flustered chuckle. “And,” he takes a pause to what seems like an attempt to gather his thoughts, “that I didn’t reach out as much as I wanted to.”

“That’s on both of us, Jungsu.”

The decorative lights effortlessly shine onto his face, warm white light that makes it look even softer as he lets himself rest in your palm.

Regret is the last thing you will feel, even if this is just a one time thing.

Soon enough, his hands proceed. You’re out of your sleeping shorts and Jungsu’s fingers are doing that same motion from earlier, but now it feels even better as they move up and down against your underwear.

Suddenly they stop to apply some pressure in one particular spot - where he noticed a dark wet patch forming.

“Mmm—“ you bite your lip, provoking his gaze to shift back to your face. “You can remove one piece of clothing too.”

He mumbles that’s fair and grins at your smile of approval as he throws his shirt away. You didn’t expect to be so effected by the view, but you are; seeing his fit chest bare makes your heart quicken and now the way his arm flexes as he moves your panties to the side to touch you without any barriers is suddenly even more noticeable than before.

“So wet,” he mutters as if he’s in awe at the sight below, “you’re gorgeous.”

The compliment warms up your cheeks as you moan desperately at the first real touch.

He slides his fingers through your folds so slow and gently that you’re amazed how a delicate touch like that can have such a strong impact everywhere on your body.

From your entrance up to your clit, Jungsu swipes the tips of his two fingers and stares at the string of arousal that sticks to them once he pulls away.

His spare hand tugs your panties more while the other returns to where you’re dripping.

“Is it okay like this?” He asks in a whisper, watching your mouth open for a silent moan; his middle finger enters you with ease and for a second your breathing stops. “Yeah, feels nice?”

You nod delighted before resting your head back on the pillow, cherishing the warmth that’s building and electrifying your core.

You can’t see it, but Jungsu’s eyes sparkle as you transition into a new blissful state with each gliding through your tight walls.

“I love it,” you breathe out excitedly, not able to ignore the sounds that come with each move of his hand; especially once he adds another finger so he can make you feel even better by thrusting deeper into you. “Fuck—“

Everything doubles now that it feels more full, more fast paced and intense. His fingers feel perfect for this - firm and just the right subtle amount of rough. They move with dominance that they aren't trying to force, but still can be felt in his touch.

“You can cum for me, sweetheart,” he says under his breath while maintaining the quick motions targeting the desired angle. “Don’t hold back, baby.”

Every time you mewl his name your quiet voice shakes as he chases your peak.

The trembling chanting makes Jungsu’s skin run hot - at the back of his neck and the sides of his face that’s a little bit scrunched from concentration, from not allowing himself to slow down. It also teases his erection with how arousing it sounds, making it twitch inside his sweatpants.

Not long after, his free hand moves to your clit to stimulate you even further by circling around, and the knot of pressure inside you snaps.

The squelching noise, so blissful to Jungsu’s ears, fades in the small room as he eases up with his arched fingers, letting only your heavy breathing to fill the silence now.

Your eyes are glossy when they find his in the warm fairylights, but you’re not exactly sure what to say. As if he knew, Jungsu drops down, prepping himself on his hands and kissess you to let you know it’s okay.

Your hands go to his still hips, but yours are far from calm, and for the first time he fails to swallow a groan.

“Y/N—“ he exhales softly into your lips, unconsciously responding by grinding between your open legs. It doesn’t help that your hands are encouraging him to thrust again and again. “Fuck, feels so good…”

“I want to touch you,” you mutter not even having a specific idea in mind - you want to touch him everywhere all at once if it’s possible. Your fingers sneak beneath the waistband of his sweats, pleading by scratching his skin. It’s all you can do with how much you love the sensation from his length rubbing against you through the fabric, making more rush of arousal course through your veins. “Jungsu, please…”

“I’m gonna make you feel amazing first chance I get.” He speaks in the crook of your neck before backing off.

Your glowing doll eyes speak for themselves.

The enthralling effects of his words that dripped with honey-like sweetness despite the dirty context only grow after you earn the view you pleaded for.

Jungsu tugs down the clothing, stained with your arousal at the crotch area, and then you see it - flushed from the friction and oozing from desire as it bounces up. The size alone has your eyes almost shutting down from all the images of you taking it inch by inch flooding your mind.

If you focus enough, you can feel the strech.

“What are you thinking about?” Jungsu’s lips turn slightly as he takes a hold of his base, lowering his tip to your folds. The way he drags it down your slick lets you know that he’s aware of exactly what’s troubling your head.

“It will feel so nice,” you whine as his warm tip presses against your leaky entrance, but not enough to enter.

Jungsu repeats the same thing to hear the squelching sound one more time. It’s begging him to push deeper, but he resists and forces his length up your folds instead, smearing the glistening essence.

“You’re gonna take me so well, sweetheart, I’m sure of it.” His gaze observes the effortless way your slippery lips have his length gliding up and down. As his fingers stay around the base his aroused tip rubs your clit with each next move which has you humming erotically. “Mm— It will fit perfectly inside you…”

You bite your lip as your mind creates vivid images, one after another, based on Jungsu’s provocative words. His sensual tone of voice and his cock moving along your slickness work effectively in harmony, forming new undeniable rush in your core.

Two light slaps by the head of his dick force your eyes open and you see Jungsu letting a string of saliva fall into his palm to make his strokes smoother.

You know he smacked your clit with his tip without meaning anything by it, simply to hear the lewd sound and feel a small thrill. However, the excitement you get from that quick act is much bigger, and after Jungsu speeds up his fist up and down, you sit up, placing fingers on your sweet spot to continue the arousal he awakened.

Your breaths blend together as you sit in front of each other… along with the little airy sounds slipping into the air that’s growing thicker from the intimate scene.

In the meantime, your eyes drop to his busy hand to study the way it moves. You want to see how he likes to be touched; what pace does he enjoy, how much is his fist tightening. Though the up and down motions are quickening, you notice his fingers still seem gentle on his erection like he’s not doubling the pressure only the rhythm.

Soaking up this sight and the way his toned stomach reacts to the sensation turns you on immensely, but then your chin gets guided up and your attention is dragged away.

Jungsu doesn’t comment on your obvious and shameless staring. The only thing he does is take in your delighted twitching features and get off on their beauty.

“Keep going,” you encourage him quietly as your free hand cautiously reaches out to cup his balls.

While maintaining the eye contact and the steady circles on your clit, you let your fingers explore gently for a moment, then you make them squeeze which breaks Jungsu’s breathing.

The bold act of yours takes him aback, but the delight that shoots through him makes the surprise last only a second.

You squeeze again simultaneously mewling from your own bubbling emotions, and earn the first clear moan from him. It sounds exhilarating, but too short. Perhaps, you could’ve gotten more out of him if his lips didn’t gravitate towards yours for an open mouthed kiss.

This makes Jungsu let go of his cock and cup your face as the moment intensifies.

You, on the other hand, use the opportunity to finally touch him properly.

Gliding your fingertips from his ballsack up to his base, Jungsu feels the lingering effects from the delicate caressing right away. Once you wrap your fingers around him and apply some pressure his lips stop moving - he cannot help, but squeeze his eyes tightly and invite a hitched breath into your mouth as a wave of euphoria passes through his veins.

Encouraged by his breathing that’s catching up and his head resting back, the nerves you were holding in your stomach completely disappear, and your hand continues twirling - more freely and with more ease and confidence.

He seems fully relaxed and succumbed to the pleasure you bring him, and you can’t stop gushing over how grateful you are to be in this position.

You catch his hands form two fists around the bedsheets as you do your best to keep up the nice rhythm that continues to have more and more effects on him.

“Can you cum for me like this?”

Jungsu opens his eyes; he can’t tell whether your innocent tone or the way you rub yourself as he kneels between your legs is what brings him dizziness.

He wets his lips before swallowing.

“Yeah, but… I want to make you feel good one more time first.” He wants to emphasise his wish by making his voice firm, but it drips from his tongue breathless, almost fading away completely at the last word.

The sudden delay in the next twirling of your wrist has his jaw slacking; especially when you stop to squeeze at the top, flicking your thumb over his slit.

The hand between your own thighs slows down as you speak too.

“It’s okay, I’m very close anyways,” you give him a coy smile as he stares at you weakly with hooded eyes. “You can just relax now and keep looking at me…” you resume the stimulation on your clit and sigh at the feeling before finishing your thought: “and cum in my hand whenever you’re ready.”

Jungsu’s stomach flips at the sound of your sudden but incredibly soft domineer; it continues to swirl from pleasure as you bring back the familiar pace around his girth. His gaze is fixated upon your hands - one dancing up and down his slick member, the other toying with your sensitive clit, slowly so the one around his cock can go faster, but the mellow touching only captivates him more.

“Fuck, Y/N—“ Jungsu chokes just when the arousal that’s burning low in your tummy rises like a wild fire. “You’re doing perfect.”

You whine right after him as the knot pulses harder with each rub, making it a challenge for you to keep stroking him smoothly as you used to.

Your technique is turning sloppy and unsteady; most likely causing the rush in his body to slow down just when it leaps up.

“Fuck,” Jungsu cusses again, this time in a thinner pitch, an alluring breathy sound that indicates he’s getting closer just like you. “Like that, yeah—” As his head drops low in sudden silence, his one hand goes over your weakened fist. In order to guide it in the speed that’s going to push him over the edge he needs to put in some strength so he squeezes around your fingers.

Both of you are now speechless, looking narrowly at the view of your laps and enhancing the mutual pleasure. The growing excitement turns into ragged short breaths that crawl out of your throats as you do everything you can in order to keep your composure.

“Doing so good for me…” Jungsu’s hand is sweating on top of yours, gripping and forcing the lewd motions of your fist top to bottom until it reaches the end of the rush and slows down steadily.

Your own sensational high hits you like a wave as you watch his thick arousal seep out of him. The first rope shoots onto his tense stomach while the rest trickles down your fingers that still hold onto his member. It twiches once or twice in your palm before he removes his stained hand away and you do the same.

“Thank you,” Jungsu’s eyes flicker at you as the corners of his mouth twitch. He’s bemused by what just happened and you are too; you can only chuckle along. “You’re a good girl.”

The knuckles of his clean hand run down your cheek, but you feel your skin getting tingly everywhere.

──── ❆ ────

The next morning, 26th of December is the day Jungsu and his parents are leaving because they’re visiting close relatives before his winter break ends. You’re both drinking tea and scrolling through social media, chatting about mutual friends and who’s up to what.

There’s definitely something different in the way you speak to each other; it would be weird if there’s not. You’re not sure what to think of it still, because you haven’t had the chance to talk about it yet, but you try not to let yourself fall into heavy overthinking mode and ruin your last hours together.

Hesitating if you should open a loose discussion about last night now that you’ve been sitting in silence for two minutes, you look up from your phone just to see your mother walking in.

You catch a glimpse of the pie recipe she always makes this time of the year in her hand, but there’s slight worry on her face. Turns out, she forgot to buy two of the ingredients she needs and now she’s stressed out about it.

You always have this pie before Jungsu and his parents leave.

“I’ll go get them.” Jungsu offers already standing on his feet.

“Are you sure? It’s snowing outside.” Your mom says, glancing through the window. “I can just make something else.”

“That’s not an issue, I got my drivers license this summer.” He takes his parent’s keys, and looks over at you with a discreet grin. “Wanna join me?”

Jungsu insists on holding the bag with the ingredients you bought for your mother’s recipe despite being the one not wearing gloves. You forgot to put on yours before you leave the house and he asked you to take his pair or apparently you weren’t leaving the car.

Now, thanks to him your hands are warm, and you enjoy the light snowfall even more as you walk side by side.

“Hey, uhm” Jungsu speaks up, trying to keep his tone casual, “I was wondering something this morning.”

You turn to him as neither of you hurries to reach the parking lot just yet.

He shoots you a quick glance then goes back to staring at the deserted street in front of you.

“I’m going to be celebrating New Year’s with my roommate and some other friends from college. It’s gonna be fun, and I was wondering if you don’t have plans already of course…” He can feel your gaze on his cold face, but he can’t make himself respond to it. Not when he hasn’t gotten a reply to his offer. When was the last time he was feeling nervous because of you? Was there ever a time like that till now? “I can come pick you up and we can celebrate together. My roommate won’t mind it if I steal his car for a few hours.”

“What’s his name?” You look down at the white pavement with a smile unable to leave your face.

“Who’s— Oh!” Jungsu finally takes a peek in your direction, a bit flustered. “Seungmin. He’s a really nice guy, just a year younger than me.”

“Are you sure he’s really not going to mind it if you take his car twice? My classes start on the same day as yours and I’ll need a ride home.”

“Positive.” You both quit walking to look at each other. “I already asked.”

“Last night you mentioned there’s a girl you find cute.” Your head leans to the side as you inspect the boy’s expressions. His eyes look down at his feet once he registers your words; there’s definitely amusement inside them though. “Is she going to be there?”

“I don’t know,” Jungsu’s grin widens at the fact you remember this. The next moment, he glances back up at you. “I’m waiting for her to give me an answer right now.”

Few seconds pass as you try to collect yourself. He meant you.

“So are you going to be there?” He gives you an eyebrow raise. “With me?”

You’re aware your glowing smile is already enough of an answer, but you still nod at him and say:

“Yes, I’ll be there with you.”

You were too immersed into your conversation to notice earlier that Jungsu has been driving in a totally different direction.

“Wait, where are we?” You ask as the car stops in front of a nice house covered in snow just like the rest on the street.

You’ve never seen it before.

“I thought we could use some privacy.” He turns to you, not yet sure how you’d react to his idea. When he catches your lips turning into a coy, but definitely approving expression, he feels a wave of relief. “Just for like an hour though or it will get suspicious.”

Jungsu gives you a quick tour around their new family home and after you’re inside his bedroom things escalate surprisingly quickly; or not so surprisingly considering what went down last night between you.

The high still lingers in both of your bodies as you crash on his bed.

He pins your hands above your head and your cold noses touch as your kiss deepens before you even have time to really comprehend this is really about to happen.

You are going to have sex with him.

You’re a moment away from feeling him in the most personal, intimate way possible as you watch him rip off the package of the condom with his teeth.

“When did you get these?” You wonder, because you didn’t see him grabbing condoms from anywhere while you were out shopping.

“I have my ways,” he grins, lowering his gaze at his crotch while standing on his feet next to the bed.

You’re sat naked at the centre and follow his hands - how one of them makes few strokes around his erection before the other wraps it up with protection. Then, a moment later how they spread your legs as if he’s scared not to break you.

He pulls you down slightly and adjusts himself between your thighs, breathing against your heat.

The butterflies in your tummy go wild with anticipation and excitement at the attractive view.

His presence there alone doubles the warmth into your core before his lips have even gotten in contact with your pussy. Once they do, your hips cannot resist the urge to move in the rhythm of his lapping tongue; wanting to match its sensual motions and earn more from the heady sensation it brings you.

Your fingers go into Jungsu’s hair the moment the arousal enhances to the point it makes your hands search for something to clench at. As your moans elevate as well, your hips keep moving against his gentle devouring mouth until his hands press you down so he can invite himself further into you with no interruptions.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan towards the ceiling, thrilled by the way he twirls the tip of his tongue around your clit before sucking on it some more. “Jungsu, it feels amazing…”

Once he detaches, he pushes his index finger through your entrance, then his middle one and tenderly glides them back and forth to really make sure you’re aroused enough.

“You taste so sweet,” he comments, staring down at your intimate lips, lustrous from his mouth and the essence his fingertips bring out of you only to spread it up to your clit.

He gives you one last open mouthed kiss which makes you whimper desperately.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” He looks you in the eyes after he hovers over you; holding himself up on one hand so the other can push the first inch of his member through your walls.

You let out a shaky sound and your nails sink into his shoulders. You breathe in, trying to relax as you haven’t been intimate with anyone in a while. It feels a bit painful because of that and his big size struggling to enter, but at the same time it also feels soul-stirring - because it’s him you are giving yourself to.

“You’ll need to loosen up some more for me, baby.” He whispers softly in your lips and you can almost taste the tension. “Can you do that for me?” The head of his cock retrieves before bumping into your small entrance again.

You nod while grasping onto his frame, and as you exhale with eyes closed shut, a gradual warm pain shoots through you as Jungsu forces a bit more of his length.

“I can stop anytime,” he reminds you while placing fingers onto your clit to comfort you with slow circles. The small portion of his cock your gummy walls are gripping on barely moves any further as he wants to give you time to adjust.

“No,” you utter without opening your eyes, “don’t, please.” Your focus is all on the big stinging stretch and you sound distracted and woozy.

Your walls, though hesitantly, start to accept some of his thickness as he cautiously rocks back and forth. At the same time, little by little you get familiar with how staggering it is to be so full.

“You already feel so good.” Jungsu’s low voice tickles your neck as he’s fully immersed in the exact same sensation as you. The tightness stimulates him more and more during the small pushes back and forth; they make you whimper every time and the sounds have such strong impact on his arousal that he starts to worry not to insert himself all the way by accident and hurt you.

All of a sudden, he pulls out causing you to gasp softly at the sudden emptiness.

Your glossy gaze focuses on him questionably until you realise he’s spreading your legs wider to lick you up again.

Keeping them open and still, he forces his tongue into your entrance and humms quietly every time it throbs, provoked by his movements. The pleasure he gains from your addictive taste has him squeezing your thighs and working his mouth in a way that makes the buzzing delight speedily prevail over the former ache.

“Jungsu, I’m…” you breathe out overwhelmed by the thorough gliding against your folds. “I’m close—“

He went back to eating you out with the intention to ease out the uncomfortable soreness he caused you, but here you are… a short moment before an intense climax washes over you as he presses against your legs so they don’t close around his head.

Your convulsing under his tongue has his arms holding onto you tightly, and as you calm down from the high, Jungsu’s lips suck your stimulated clit once or twice causing you to twitch even more.

“Good girl.” A gentle whisper caresses the skin of your inner thigh before he moves on his knees. “Now you’ll take me easier, right baby?”

This time instead of doing small bumps at your entrance Jungsu slides half of his length through a single slow push that has you hissing at the warmth it incites - a mix between pleasures with just a hint of the stinging ache from earlier.

You’ve never felt anything like it before.

Analysing your beautifully twitching face Jungsu decides to pick up a quicker pace at once. His heart rate along with his adrenaline rush increases by the new sound of your clear moans of rapture - all of them a reaction to the way he fills you up.

“Better, baby?” His eyes alternate between your open mouth and the appealing view where your bodies connect; where you’re hypnotising him by looking so stuffed and small and keeping him in trance with how you squelch for him. “So pretty…”

“Yeah,” you answer as your lips tremble from the rising pleasure, “so much better, k-keep going.”

“I knew you’d take me well,” Jungsu says as his own voice starts to drop softly. His hooded eyes blink weakly till they shut entirely as he inserts himself fully into you. His sticky fingers leave his base and sink into your thigh the moment you let out a high pitched whine at the way his tip hits your deepest spot. “Shit— you feel so good around me, baby.”

As you feel mazed and disoriented by the rush, your hand goes over your mouth after another mewl escapes your throat. It sounds too loud, but your self-control slips away the more Jungsu speeds up.

“You don’t need to keep quiet here, sweetheart.” The sudden action makes the boy chuckle as he holds your thighs loosely over his arms. The sheer look of desperation that’s contorting your face tempts him to drop closer. As he does so, he notices your fingers hesitate to uncover your lips completely. “Don’t, baby,” he grunts and even the intense rush can’t stop his voice from sounding sensual and comforting. “I want to hear the pretty sounds you make for me.”

His body weight now presses comfortably against you and you’re almost sure the heat it radiates while his hips slow down for a moment, makes your arousal grow, throb and trickle down on the bedsheets.

“So,” you breathe out in bliss as your fingers move away with trembling motions, “s-so deep…” Your mouth remains open as your head lolls back. You’re amazed by how it’s possible for him to stimulate such deep points inside you; once that have been unfamiliar to you until now.

“Yeah?” Jungsu’s lips move at your ear, producing intense breaths like a tune. “And you’re so tight, pretty girl… you feel perfect for me.”

A lazy kiss on the side of your jawline makes you flutter inside as your hands glide around his broad shoulders. The muscles tense under your touch as eventually Jungsu strengthens the pace again.

Your vision gradually starts to blur, but you still notice the sweat pooling on his forehead; how his teeth keep his lip tucked harshly as the thrusting of his hips turns into a steady slamming that fills the bedroom with lewd noises.

“Jungsu, I—“ your nails dig into his warm skin; surely promising marks, but you can’t stop them from dragging against his back as he hits exactly where it feels best. “Right there, yea—“

“There?” Jungsu’s eyes open, and they open at the perfect timing - to see how yours roll back from pleasure. A sight that immediately provokes him to keep doing what he’s doing, but better.

“Fuck! Yes—“ Your moans keep slipping in the rhythm of his strong thrusts strictly fixated upon the desired angle. “Harder, ple—“

Your pleading is suddenly cut off by your mind shutting down and your throat choking on your own breath.

It wasn’t necessary for you to beg, because Jungsu already knew more was what you needed. Each sound of yours was signaling to him that you’re getting closer, that you need just a little bit more for the rush to come and bring you sweet relief. Even your desperate grasping at his shoulders was already speaking enough to him.

“You’re even prettier when you cum around me, princess.” He murmurs out of breath with lips gently pecking your warm forehead. They cannot wait for your panting to slow down though and they move to kiss you insistently until you inevitably back away to breathe.

It happens with a small delay, because it takes you some time to compose yourself from the passionate kiss, but the corner of your mouth slides up shyly as a reaction to his words; to the nickname attached at the end.

After spending a moment inside your welcoming warmth Jungsu eventually pulls out with a sigh and your hands let go of him.

Once he removes the condom and starts jerking off your attention fixates upon the most compelling facial expression you’ve seen. His flushed face is painted by relish, but also by desperation especially when the climax gains complete control over him and his head drops low shifting your focus.

Warm and thick, his arousal lands all over your bare tummy, making you gasp quietly.

When he returns with a towel to clean you up before laying down beside you, you come to realise that it almost feels like summer from the snuggly atmosphere around the two of you; it’s perfectly formed by the mutual aftermath that you experience at the same time as you gaze into each other’s eyes, and nicely balanced by the soft glow of sunlight that’s attempting fo filter through the curtains.

And all of this as Jungsu’s fingertips draw soft patterns on your back.

Till this current moment your entire skin was on fire. Now, the feeling of those strong flames has faded, leaving a single lingering warmth that’s not completely new to you simply because it’s been slowly growing throughout the years of your friendship… warmth that feels reasuring.

It feels like love.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

♡ taglist: @gclhn ; @gaonashi ; @xhfics

#— writing: xdinary heroes #dinna’s holiday special 2024 #— long story short #xdinary heroes smut #jungsu smut #jungsu x reader #xdinary heroes x reader #xdh x reader

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fatesundress · 2 years ago

Text

⭑ observations. tom riddle x reader

part ii here.

summary. you've been going to hogwarts for four months, and find this whole school-wide obsession with tom riddle a little bit ridiculous, and a little bit contrived. surely not all the rumours are true...

tags. smut (minors dni -_-), fem anatomy, fingering, reader who is soooo in denial, trying to worm into tom's brain like a parasite and failing miserably (me projecting), i think reader is implied to either be short or tom is implied to be tall, ooc tom because i am so far from the belief that he would ever just spontaneously hook up with someone but… it is what it is.

note. this is my first post so support is much appreciated!! god forgive me, i've never written smut in my life, and it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also, i tried my best to make reader fairly neutral, but it's late, and if i've fumbled over some description bc i'm sleepy i shall fix it in the morning ♡

word count. 5.1k

Your first observation is that nobody has Tom Riddle quite right.

He’s beautiful, yes (obvious, repetitive, shallow), and undeniably intelligent (being paired with him in Potions has proved that in a matter of weeks), untouchable (this one is a bit interesting), and, above all, unusual. The latter you like the most. It makes you feel unabashedly exceptional in all the very unexceptional gossip about him. No one ever uses that word to describe him. A rarity of charisma and charm — austere, refined, and clinically polite. Unusual has a negative curve to it that most people don’t attach to the elegant litheness of Tom Riddle, but your observations cannot be stated without the word.

It’s prompted and peddled by Selwyn’s much-too-enthusiastic vehemence in the wake of your first.

You narrow your eyes at her and say it again, no less certain than the first time. “Tom Riddle has not had sex with half the school.”

It’s a bit of a jump. Some necessary context is removed.

Riddle, once more, rarity of charisma and charm and austere blah blah blah, has been rumoured since you arrived this year from your last school to be some silent conqueror, oh-so nimble with his hands and nimbler even with his other appendages, and you — you’ve only been here four months and it’s laughable how many people believe it.

Backtrack to untouchable (this one everyone agrees is a primary characteristic of Tom Riddle, there’s no debate there) and the reason you find it interesting. Untouchable doesn’t exactly work if everyone in the bloody castle has been touching him this whole time. And it’s not as if he could hide it, not as if people wouldn’t be giddy to tell their friends of their exploits with the beautiful, revered Head Boy. And such exploits would be whispers among the halls in a matter of hours. You’ve considered this, with almost scientific determination, and it’s impossible. Tom studies all day, and when he isn’t studying he’s corralling Slytherin first-years away from forbidden corridors, attending to Dippet’s newest errand, escorting third-years to Hogsmeade, dining with the Slug Club, and — point is, someone would have noticed by now if he was disappearing into broom closets with a new lay every weekend.

But Selwyn shakes her head, because this rumour is such an integral part of Tom’s allure. He is, somehow, both untouchable and a master at touch. Distant until he isn’t, and then he can break you apart with practised, perfect hands. It’s all very mythical.

“Look,” she says, “maybe if I’d only been here four months, I’d think so too, but everyone else knows—”

“Maybe it’s because I’ve only been here four months that I have the objectivity to recognize how ridiculous you all are. He’s not a god, Selwyn, he’s a scholar, and an obsessed one at that — has it ever actually occurred to you he might not have had sex at all?”

This, now, is sacrilege.

Selwyn gapes at you, and you shake your head in surrender before you burst out laughing at how offended she looks. “Fine, whatever. Consider the matter dropped. I give up.”

You don’t really give up. It’s very fun research.

Your second observation is that unusual is not an apt enough word for Tom, and maybe you don’t possess the vocabulary to think of one that is.

You’re in the Restricted Section. This is unrelated to your Tom research, and perfectly sanctioned, with a key granted by the librarian who you feel sorry to admit you have not remembered the name of, and the library, by all means, is still open. It’s a late Thursday night, but not past curfew. You’re there with a study partner you rather wish you weren’t — Gregory Godefrey, Gryffindor (the alliteration is nauseating), and the only half-decent fellow in your Ancient Runes class, but not especially bright. You feel more like his tutor than his partner. In short, the regular books on the topic you’re writing your end-of-term essay on are slim pickings, and thus — Restricted Section.

“So,” you say, “the scriptures might look the same, but they’re written in vastly different time periods, so the meaning has changed. If you were to charge a spell with one of Ashe’s runes now, there’s almost no doubt you’d get a completely different result.”

“I don’t get it,” Godefrey grumbles sleepily into his sleeve. “How’s anyone meant to use runes if they can just change like that?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Any magic can change, Godefrey. Half of the stuff we learn is based on intention and skill. Uagadou barely even uses wands — all of this is arbitrary.”

“My head hurts.”

“Then… just… just go to bed. I’ll finish up here and we’ll try again on the weekend.”

He grins with heavy eyes, lugging his bag over his shoulder and leaving you a packet of sherbet lemons you bitterly wish he’d pulled out sooner. “Wicked — you’re the best. See’ya.”

“See you…” you mumble, unwrapping one and popping it in your mouth.

You don’t stay for long, twirling the key to the Restricted Section around your finger as you tuck your books back into their shelves.

“It’s ten past curfew,” says a voice from behind you, all cool, measured authority, and you nearly collapse.

You stare up from where you’re grabbing onto your knees for balance, your heart halfway out of your chest.

Tom Riddle is there, his Head Boy badge somehow still glittering in the dim light of the library, and it’s only by the half-smile quirking at his lips that you can detect his words weren’t some sort of threat.

“Right, thanks.” You gather your breath. “I was just leaving.”

“Pity about Godefrey.”

You blink. Having worked with Tom in Potions since September, you’ve become perfectly adjusted to speaking to him… only about Potions. He indulges in polite small talk, he smiles freely, but your distance from him is the same as it is with everyone else, if only for the fact that, you suppose, you aren’t actively pursuing anything closer.

Oh. That is interesting — would he be so easily intrigued? It’s a bit cliché, but you suppose he is too.

You’re making an awful lot of assumptions from the words ‘pity about Godefrey,’ and then, you don’t actually have a damn clue what Tom could mean by that.

“Sorry?” you ask.

“Godefrey,” he repeats. “I assume you’re being made to tutor him.”

Right. He must have seen him on his way here. That would make sense.

“No, actually. It’s entirely voluntary — he’s my study partner for Ancient Runes.”

His chin lifts in some nearly imperceptible way, smiling still, and you know he’s a polished thing, an unusual thing, but it reads as an especially fake smile then. “Ah.”

… Oooookay?

“Well —” you start, a mechanical smile of your own forming — “curfew, then.”

The charm fixes onto his face like a damn ornament. You want to flick it away with your finger. “Of course. I’ll see you in Potions?”

You nod, leaving the key behind the librarian’s desk as you slink awkwardly away. Into the corridor. Off to bed. Yet another note to scrawl on the enigma of Tom Riddle.

You see him again first thing in the morning. You’re yawning into the archway of Slughorn’s stuffy classroom, eager to dump your bag over your table and empty the many contents necessary for today’s lesson.

There’s one girl, the oldest of the Lestranges, who glares daggers into the back of your head every class. Tom is, as always, nonplussed, asking you about your morning as you both prepare your phials and ingredients. You can’t help but shake your head at him this once, a bemused smile on your lips as you glance between him and the Lestrange girl.

“Have I offended her somehow, or is it just that I’m paired with you?”

He laughs under his breath. “I daresay that is the offense.”

You can’t help it. You’re mumbling to yourself in amazement at the bizarre, borderline cultish devotion this school has to Tom Riddle. “Unattainable commodity that you are, Riddle…”

“Well," he begins, his smile small but his voice amused, “I hope you don’t think of me as quite that far outside your grasp."

You freeze.

Are you — have you missed something? Has your casual (really, very casual and not at all unwarranted or peculiar) research for the sake of dispelling Selwyn’s obsession skewed your memory of Tom? Has he always said things like this to you? Have you always read into them like this?

One of his eyebrows rises, and it might be his notorious flattery — but if so, he makes it sound like an obvious truth, and you stammer over the jar of foxglove in your hand. Then you look away, unscrew it, do well not to put too much weight on his words.

“Hm. I have no need for you to be within it, Riddle." You say it with all nonchalance you can muster. To spit it at him in some aggressive dismissal would be to treat it like a big thing.

It isn’t a big thing. He’s talking to you like he talks to everyone else.

But you catch the barest flicker of disappointment on his face, a flash of something that might even be annoyance. Then, though, it’s gone, and he’s back to that same unshakable, confident smirk.

As the lesson proceeds, he’s once again the sharpest thing in the room.

You watch for him in the library that weekend, a bit distracted while you and Godefrey study. Without your guidance, there isn’t much studying occurring at all. Godefrey is sort of skimming the pages of a textbook, yawning, as always, like he’s never had a good night’s sleep in his life, and you’re suckling sherbert lemons until the roof of your mouth feels raw.

“What was it you said about Calarook’s Method?”

Your eyes snap from the empty doorway to Godefrey’s face. “Huh?”

“Calarook’s Method.”

“Oh.” You sink boredly into your seat, twirling your quill between your fingers. “It revolutionised the usage of runes globally. She incorporated — um — a much simpler means of translating the scriptures for different methods of magic.”

“Ohhhh, I remember now. Did you write that down?”

“Yes, Godefrey, I wrote it down.”

The final hour before curfew dwells agonisingly longer than it should. It feels like three, at least, until you’re packing your things and bidding Godefrey goodnight, tired legs dragging you down the corridors.

And then you straighten. You stand tall. (You’re absolutely normal about the sight before you.)

Tom smiles at you as he turns the corridor to approach.

“On patrol?” you ask in a friendly tone.

You’re… friends, right? Being someone’s Potions partner for four months qualifies as some degree of friendship, does it not? After all, he did say not to think of him as too far outside your grasp. That was a line if you’d ever heard one, but — you could be Tom’s friend the way everyone is his friend: wholly detached until you were needed.

“Leaving detention,” he answers with a timbre to match.

Your eyebrows raise at that.

“Leaving the second-years I watched in detention, I should say.”

You shake your head. “I should have known.”

“And you?”

“Studying again.”

“Ancient Runes?”

“Mhm.”

“...With Godefrey?”

“That is the concept of a recurrent study partner, yes. It’s recurrent.”

He doesn’t look very much like he appreciates your sarcasm.

“So, then,” you mutter, clearing your throat. “Curfew, I suppose.”

“You performed well in Potions today,” he says after you. It feels like the sort of thing someone says when they don’t want someone to walk away.

You bite your cheek between your teeth — such assumptions will get the better of you. Such assumptions will lead you down a path of crude, obsessive analysis (though you suppose you’ve been doing that all this time, haven’t you?) where you think, in some unspooling knitwork, that there are really only a select few reasons he could want such a thing. Your mind draws to the irresponsible conclusion, as he walks toward you again, a new glint in his eyes, that it’s exactly the sort of thing someone says before rumour has it they disappear into the nearest broom closet with the one they approach. This, you’ve decided an observation ago, Tom Riddle does not do.

“Thank you,” you say carefully. “So did you.”

“We make for a good pair, don’t you think?”

Crude, obsessive analysis. “Slughorn certainly does.”

“And I am asking you.”

He stops a respectable, inviting space before you. His weekend attire is a grey jumper and black slacks, his dark hair in its regular, pristine waves, hands laced behind his back. Everything about him is a request to be met, and not to step forward and close the distance himself. Close the distance, pristine waves, inviting space — you’ve lost your damn mind. You sound like Selwyn. The sugar of a whole packet of sherbet lemons has rendered you imbecilic. You’ll be off to bed, then — sleep this absurdity off.

“Of course, Tom,” you say with a polite smile. “It’d be hard to disagree with the grades I get in that class.” You grab onto your bag to have something to do with your hands, to perhaps signify you’ll be making your exit now.

He seems a bit amused to have to contort himself through the specifics of his meaning. “I was referring to our… rapport.”

“Rapport?”

“We work well together. We communicate efficiently.”

We communicate efficiently? Damn if you couldn’t suddenly make sense of the rumour he’d be applying for the DADA post in the future — that one was definitely true.

“Yes, we do.”

He steps closer. “And I remain far outside your grasp.”

You blink, and there’s a stark, sinking feeling as your eyes drift over the unmarred ivory of his skin, his jaw, his throat, his — no, absolutely not his hands — and you let yourself wonder for the first time if the rumours, albeit exaggerated, have even a shred of truth to them. One exploit, perhaps, to satisfy his endless curiosity. Something academic, like — oh, God, like the way you’ve been studying him for weeks. His hands carving a path down someone’s body to etch it in his memory, another skill added to his arsenal, a new way to work his fingers without a wand, a new way to work his mouth without a word.

It’s only a moment that you wonder it. Some flash of pictures in your head. It is, nonetheless, a moment far too long, and one you don’t know that you can return from.

Tom looks at you from under his eyelashes with an expression that suggests he's the only one in on a very funny joke, and the air is… different. Thick like the Potions room but in a way that’s entirely unfamiliar, not cloudy with the steam of cauldrons but hazy with the proximity of him, cologne and quill ink and something you can’t catch because you’re trying too hard to breathe it all in at once.

But he steps forward again, and seems to say in the slow way he moves, that if you’ll let him, he'll place a hand on your shoulder, and if you’ll allow that — well — then he'll move that hand up to gently frame your cheek. And then, and you no longer consider yourself at all versed in the realm of Tom Riddle, but you think you know what’ll come next.

You allow all of it. You know very well in advance you’re going to allow all of it.

And still, like it’s a surprise, you shiver at the feeling of his hand on your cheek, at the gleaming, certain look in his eyes. Your gaze flickers to his lips for just a second (a fleeting, tiny second you pray fruitlessly he doesn't notice) but his lips curl into the barest of smiles. Something so like him, small but unrestrained, like it never had any hope of growing bigger, but then — you’ve seen the way he grins at you sometimes when you say something stupid in class — you know he’s capable.

“You know what I'm going to do, I assume," he says quietly. It's not a question, per se — more of a statement, and he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on yours as he says it. He's so close you can feel the warmth of his breath. And then he leans in so slightly it might be imperceptible if you weren’t staring, holding your damn breath. “Are you going to let me?"

“I..." You're humiliated to find you are actually struggling to speak. His lips are so close to yours you can feel the ghost of them, can imagine what they might feel like on you. Your mouth is very dry. “We’re… friends, right?”

His voice only wavers for a moment, even as his lips inch ever closer to yours. His voice is tauntingly low, and there's an intimate sort of smile there, a chastising, humorous gleam to his eyes. “Friends," he breathes, and then his lips do close that short distance, and you feel the barest trace of his mouth against yours — his lips, soft and supple against your skin. A moment's kiss. Gone as quickly as it came. “Should we be friends?”

You gape at him, breathing far too heavily for such a chaste kiss, and you imagine your eyes are blown wide, and you lick your lips for a reminder of his taste but it isn't enough. You don't think before standing on your toes to find his lips again. Of course, Tom is stood impeccably straight, his chin almost pointedly jutted so that he can look down at you, and you actually — it's horribly embarrassing — you groan, or whine, or make some sound of blatant discontent at the fact that your kiss doesn’t reach him.

To his credit, his laugh is a very small one. Had it been the other way around you would have been far less forgiving. “I suppose the answer is no, then?" he says, with the implication that the next move might be yours.

“Tom," you as good as hiss (really very foolish of you to use the word forgiving to describe Tom Riddle), “you're being... you're being mean." And you refuse to make the first effort again, even though you probably appear to be a train wreck, your chest is heaving, and you... you want him.

“Am I?" he asks, and he tilts his head to the other side, almost as if to get a better look at you. “How so?" You think he's enjoying himself far too much. But he remains where he is: close enough for you to reach him if you would just yank him toward you and be done with it, and far enough away that you can't take that step without giving him the win.

You stare at him for a long moment, and then with teeth gritted so tight you might chip one, turn to walk away. Tom makes some very hollow, annoyed sound at your stubbornness, and thank god you feel him behind you: soft, lulling, not so immovable as you.

You stop. His fingers brush your hair to the side. His mouth hovers over the skin of your neck. You shudder.

“Tom..." you sigh, half-exasperated, half-sighed, half-surrendered, but he doesn't answer or stop or do so much as acknowledge your mumbling. He only presses forward, until his breath is right by your ear and his lips, soft, gentle, are against the junction of your exposed neck, and you feel his mouth, the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin... so tender, so light that it doesn’t feel at all like something merciful.

It feels singularly, purposefully cruel.

Your third observation (if you can manage the thought) is that Tom is driven by your reactions. Every little mewl, every shudder, every gasp, he wants more of. He wants whatever you're willing to give him, and you suspect it wouldn’t be hard for him to take it all. Every movement of his hands, his mouth, his — oh, oh no — his tongue, abide by whatever you respond to most. He draws in patterns. He stops. Appreciates the speed of your pulse on the curve of your throat for a moment and then tastes it again. It doesn't seem like he particularly cares what he gets out of it. The intrigue for him is having the proximity (he greatly enjoys that you’ve allowed him it) and capacity (that, you think, he’s always had) to make you fall apart.

He's spinning you then, so you're pressed facing the wall, his chest against your back, and the way he whispers against your skin makes you shiver. You dare to think he feels it, his chest heaving against your back, his breath warm and steady by your ear. And as he kisses you you can't help but imagine what might happen if he were just a few inches lower, if he were to sink to his knees, kissing the soft flesh of your chest, and down, and down, and down…

Your eyes flutter closed, and it's clear you like what he's doing by the sound that escapes you — something loud enough for him to stifle your mouth with his palm. Perhaps a little too much. Perhaps you’ll be embarrassed about it later. But right now his tongue is brushing against your skin again, and there’s something very dizzying and hot that starts with his mouth on your neck and works its way down until it's a challenge just to stay standing. You wonder if he can tell just how weak in the knees you are right now, whether that only makes him push forward, and —

And that must be it. He must know, because you think you're trying to say something but you can't form the words, and he has to feel the reverberations with his teeth bracketing little violets on your neck, he must feel the way your legs buckle, how you're held up only by the weight of him behind you.

He must know.

He pushes forward, his fingers bury in your hair, and he pulls your head back slowly — not necessarily to expose you further, but to better see your face. Your eyes lock with his over your shoulder, and there's that hunger there, lips swollen with the print of you... and his voice, when he speaks, is as if he's only barely stopping himself. “Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head before you think he’s actually finished the question, swallowing the cotton-dry feeling in your throat. No, no — him stopping is the very last thing you want — you feel entirely rational and not at all melodramatic in saying you might just die if he stops. You want more, and he's looking at you like that’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

He bites down gently on your neck, and you gasp as your knees finally go out from under you (you almost think he planned for this with how quickly he catches you), and you wonder if he'll do something you can't bear; if you'll be reduced to a mewling, drooling mess before he's finished with you.

Your fourth observation — which really is the last one you can muster before it starts to melt into something else — is that you make him human in the only way he can understand: panting into him, fingers in his skin, white-hot and damp at the centre of his obsession. The object of his affection. You make him understand something more singular than ambition.

Want.

And then his spare hand is dipping past your skirts, and you dig your fingers into his wrist — the combination of the hardness pressed against your back, his hands marking a path to forbidden territory, his finger curling into your mouth as his lips continue their assault on your neck — it's too much. It’s deliriously, disastrously not enough. Your vision is starting to blur.

His fingers stop at the curve where your thighs part and you bite gently down on him to quiet the noise that wants to escape you. He hums against your throat, continuing to kiss and lick and bruise you. You're dazedly aware of the cool air on your thighs as your skirts halo your waist, the heat inside, the shudder as his fingers find your core, and carefully begin to circle you. You feel self-consumed, immolated, devoured and spat out again. You feel like you're still falling, and Tom is the only force that keeps you standing.

He draws in slow, expert patterns — and you think, nonsensically, somewhere very distant where you still have sense, that they can’t be expert, he must have read something or observed some — oh. He’s pushing the thin fabric aside until his fingers are pressed directly against your flesh, and he makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat as the evidence of how much you need this soaks his fingers, as they begin to sink in without resistance. Oh. Right. You don’t remember exactly what you were saying.

You gasp at the feeling of having him inside when they finally curl into you.

His finger is pulled from your mouth with a small pop, and you can’t even really muster the capacity to be embarrassed by the lewd, wet sound of it. He watches you over your shoulder, at his fingers vanished between your legs, at the drool clinging to the digit he’d quieted you with. He’s smiling into your neck now, proud and grateful all the same.

“Mine,” you think he murmurs, but it’s more something you feel than hear, some vague, hazy consonants pressed to your throat. It would be very like him, so you decide that yes, that’s probably what he said. And there’s something funny about it — the idea of being his — about what it means for him to want you so badly that he says it out loud. It feels a little bit like he’s yours, too.

Tom’s breathing is harsh, the fingers inside you moving as if they have a will of their own. Every muscle in your body constricts and squeezes around them; every cell, every neuron, comes roaring to life; and you’re fucked. You’re so completely fucked. His teeth scrape against you again, wholeheartedly pleased. This is what he wanted to see — the utter loss of you — when you are nothing but sensation, barely aware of your limbs as they slump against him. Tom is it; Tom is the only thing you can think of.

Tom is, inexplicably, upsettingly good at this.

“Look at you," he says softly. And his touch changes; it becomes slower, more deliberate and careful.

You’re trembling hopelessly. The way you coil and collapse under his touch is just further encouragement. He doesn't even bother to speak anymore, only pants, his eyes half-lidded, his lips swollen and slick when they attach to your throat again. Your whole body is on fire, and he's the one setting you alight — there is not a single inch of you that is not alive with the feeling of him, and you can barely breathe through the slow, heavy rush of it.

You think you cry at the divine curve of his fingers carving inside you, slow and soft and then intense — when you grip his arm for more friction, and one of his hands is coming up to wipe a tear away but the feeling flares in your abdomen and you're only half aware of it, really — you think your eyes have rolled back. You think you've gone somewhere else.

He keeps you just on the precipice, just shy of losing control, just far enough to leave you craving for more.

“To—Tom," you sob, gasps cleaving his name in two — you're on the brink of something incomprehensible, building inside you to something you can't help but think is about to shatter, your eyes clenching shut as you grip him so hard you're certain your fingers will leave marks. “I'm gonna—"

“I know," he breathes against your neck, hands running a familiar path along your body; he's so very, very proud that he's made you like this. He just barely bites into the spot above your collar, curls his fingers, and then you’re falling — something unfurls inside you and can’t be collected, something hot and depthless that your hands can’t clutch at from where they’re clinging so desperately to him — and you think, coming down from it with trembling, debilitating ecstasy, that he looks very much like he’d be proud to make you like this over and over again.

You're flattened, and that triumph in his eyes — the absolute satisfaction of seeing you this way, of knowing that that he's the one that did it to you — that feeling fills your mind and makes you collapse even more, makes you want to melt and flow into liquid at his feet; to give in, do whatever he says, even if all he says is just be like this for him.

He slowly removes his fingers as you come down, and your eyes are blinking for focus when he turns you around, his thumb coming up to brush over your bottom lip and you sigh at the taste of yourself as he pushes it inside your mouth. His other hand brushes away the damp, stray hairs that have fallen across your face, almost reverently, a silent worship as he takes you in, appreciates everything you just gave him.

He smiles gently at your half-blinking, half-vacant expression, his thumb still in your mouth; he watches you for a long moment in silence. His eyes are heavy-lidded and he's got a small quirk at the corner of his mouth as he pulls his thumb away and swipes it once more over your lip.

You're still not quite sure you can find words. Still not sure they'd form right as your tongue darts over the residue of Tom's finger and you flush impossibly hotter at the feeling of your own arousal on your mouth. Tom fixes your hair behind your ears and it doesn't seem like he's ready to stop taking you in in this state — your hair wild, lips swollen, throat bruised and dress askew — and he leans in so tenderly it startles you, pressing a faint, almost imperceptible kiss to your forehead.

“Tell Godefrey he’ll be needing a new study partner. I think you’ll find yourself committed elsewhere." And with that he turns on his heel, perfectly composed, and disappears into the darkness of the midnight corridor.

Oh God, you think, and you’re too stunned to even react as you watch him vanish. It takes you a moment before you regain your senses, and you can only just manage to sputter out a breathless, miserable sigh into the air before you.

You are so completely, utterly fucked.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x y/n #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #for now...#harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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ithaquasbbg · 2 months ago

Note

*exciting noises* how do you think of a scenario about morning star!Ithaqua x simp!reader (´,,•ω•,,)♡

Ohhh absolutely!!!!! I’m totally hearing you out.

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Morningstar! Ithaqua x Lovestruck reader headcanons

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Pairing: Morningstar! Ithaqua x reader

Triggers: none :3

Other: Lovestruck is my formal word for simp. My return will be discussed by historians!!!

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⭒❃.✮:▹ Considering Helel’s personality and social status, I don’t believe he’d be too taken aback by somebody being head over heels for him. Frankly, he’s probably had quite a lot of people express interest in him like this given his standing.

⭒❃.✮:▹ Small favors for him here and there would largely go unnoticed for a while as merely a subject trying to get on their kings good side. It would only be once he starts to notice your face more and more often that he begins to take notice of you and your favors, the way you speak to him, etc.

⭒❃.✮:▹When it comes to you “simping” for him.. Helel probably wouldn’t feel very strongly for or against it. Slightly flattered, maybe, however he wouldn’t be offended by it. If anything, he’d probably be more tolerant of your presence for the entertainment value at the beginning.

⭒❃.✮:▹He DEFINITELY doesn’t fail to notice the way you look at him once he begins to take notice of you. Helel, being the person he is, would try to get a rise out of you- be it through small smirks, eye contact, whatever he notices gets a rise out of you.

⭒❃.✮:▹It isn’t long until Helel asks some of his attendants to find out more about who “the one with the Lovestruck eyes” is. He’s certainly perceptive and notices small things, the way your cheeks redden when he sends one of his smirks your way, the way you adjust your appearance when he looks over at you. He even begins to take notice if you are not among the crowd when he embarks out into the kingdom.

⭒❃.✮:▹When you do meet in person he makes sure to find out whatever he can about his mysterious (and as he tells you- “mesmerizing”) admirer. Your name, where you’re from, how old you are, etc. Helel genuinely is interested in knowing more about you.

⭒❃.✮:▹ He also wants to know why you seem so interested in him.

⭒❃.✮:▹ The more and more he’s around you, the more Helel finds himself trying to keep you there, making sure that you’re still as devoted to him as you were in the beginning

⭒❃.✮:▹ Of course, this won’t be an issue with somebody as head-over-heels in love with him as you! Helel, however, may not realize that.

⭒❃.✮:▹Sure he’s confident as ruler, it’s a trait he has had to learn over the years in order to prove that he is the rightful leader. When it comes to being confident about who he really is and what the people around him really think, Helel is nowhere near as confident.

⭒❃.✮:▹Super protective of you, he’s a very possessive person by nature and cannot fathom leaving somebody dear to him. (Nebu, you, he simply can’t let go of people).

⭒❃.✮:▹Knowing Helel, it’s hard to determine at first whether he is fond of you or if he is fond of the admiration you give him. However as time passes by, you’d begin to notice him doing small things for you (he strikes me as the type to be more into acts of service).

⭒❃.✮:▹ Quickly figures out the colors you like, what clothing pieces of his are your favorite, and wears them much more often. The way that you smile and blush at him is something that brings a strange feeling to his gut- not an unpleasant one! Something quite nice, yet foreign to him.

Maybe… just maybe… asking you to accompany him to the towers gardens would bring you the same feeling?

#idv fandom #idv fanfic #idv headcanons #idv imagines #idv x reader #ithaqua idv #idv ithaqua #identity v ithaqua #ithaqua x reader #identity v night watch #night watch idv #night watch #eta #eta idv #meow meow

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breadarcade · 11 months ago

Note

Longan x Clumsy/Childish Reader and Longan being so in denial but fails miserably

Like bro Reader is trying to reach for a jar of pickles on top of a shelf and instead of using a ladder they used pots and pans and getting themselves to fall to the ground with a small bruise but is still smiling and happy because they got that Pickle Jar off of the shelf before falling like dude they just went like- *They fell and is cover in pots and pans* "Got the pickles!"

note: THAT’S SO ME! GREAT NOW CAN I BE WITH LONGAN RN

PAIRING: LONGAN DRAGON COOKIE x READER

WARNING: you’re an idiot

★VERY FEW COOKIES can be granted the privilege of being favored by a dragon, especially the main 5 dragons of Earthbread. Dragons have standards that are impossible to comply, those who are favored by one are granted with power and wealth. It is the dream of many cookies that acknowledge the existence of dragons, their legends, and accomplishments that help contribute to the present that cookies get to live on. Although one should be warned, once worn out and bored by the dragon, they could be heartlessly thrown and disposed of. It may be the dream and nightmare of a cookie of ambition.

And one thing close to impossible, or it is impossible according to the records, is receiving the favor of none other than the Ivory Dragon of Earthbread. The Ivory Dragon is a heartless, apathetic dragon that would not care if everyone dies either way, the only thing that matters for him is his dragonkin. Everyone is easily disposable in their eyes, they have little meaning to them and they wouldn’t even dare take a good second to stare at them. Those would dare to be close to the Legendary Ivory Dragon are close to turning to stone. The Ivory Dragon have no time for trifles and setbacks like you, you should give––” Young Cookie?”

Ah never mind, Longan Dragon Cookie hurriedly walks towards the halls of the lustrous Longan Palace. Were they worried? Oh dear no, they don’t think so. After taking you into their palace out of curiosity and interest, they have been through several hassles thanks to you. They cannot tell whether they regret it or not. They were simply walking on eggshells, dragon orbs are scattered, wandering around the palace as they floated to find you. “Such weak cookie wandering around,” they murmured to themselves, watching as several wyverns that he had also taken under their wing, watched them with curiosity.

They looked at a particular wyvern, Longan Lancer Cookie, and they silently gestured Longan Lancer Cookie to find you, and so they immediately complied, swiftly vanishing through the thin air. As Longan Lancer Cookie went their way to find you, Longan Dragon Cookie tried to slowly compose themselves, Why are they acting like this? Why are they so merciful to you in the first place, you were just a cookie; weak and insignificant, and bear no importance and position that is worthy of their respect! Why are they latching and attached to you, you must have done something to them to be like this, that was the most reasonable explanation for Longan Dragon Cookie.

While Longan was busy looking for you, there was a sudden crash echoing across the palace, leaving Longan Dragon Cookie agitated for once, and rushing towards the source of that ear-piercing sound. To see the grand kitchen that they made for your own sake, Longan Lancer Cookie was also there, tending to you, by the time Longan Dragon Cookie came into a silent panic. It wasn’t unlike them, but they could not help but stunned when they saw you holding a jar of pickles, foolishly smiling like an idiot, with apparent bruises all over you to their dismay. While Longan Lancer Cookie is busy tending to you with a medical kit that Longan Dragon Cookie gets for your sake, Longan Dragon Cookie approaches you, clearly not amused by your apparent cheekiness. “Longan I got the–” “How reckless can you go to be this kind of level?” Longan Dragon Cookie sneered in pure dismay, watching you as you raised the jar of pickles with such pride, that they could not tell what made the both of you tic and what was so good about you. “You went up, to recklessly get a common treat, have you no common sense?” Longan Dragon Cookie was this close to obliterating you to stone. Crossing their arms as you sheepishly, and shamelessly smiled in front of them, “Come on, that was one time!” you pointed a finger at them to their irritation. “You cannot simply take something, that’s the purpose of the wyverns.” they retorted back.

Longan Dragon Cookie grumbled to themselves as they dismissed Longan Lancer Cookie away, gesturing to walk out as they were in front of you. They took you by the hand and helped you stand up, their grip was strangely tight for their character, making you look up to them. “Fine...I’m sorry, alright?” you apologize, making their grip soften as they look down at you “You should have been more aware.” they bluntly remark as they face you and trace their rough hands to your soft skin, tracing the shape of the bruises. “I know, and like I said I’m sorry,” you murmured, but this time, earning no response when Longan Dragon Cookie was just staring at you. Wait, is this love?

Let me rephrase this again, One thing that is close to impossible is receiving the favor of the mighty ivory dragon, yes, it is still impossible. But that was before you came along to their life, At this rate, you are making this less easy for them. You are tainting their judgment, Longan Dragon might say, but it is impossible to assume that when they are just there… Taking you along with them, and putting you in a closer view of them. So sooner or later, you might be the first and last cookie that the Ivory Dragon, the Longan Dragon Cookie might favor.

#cookie run x reader #cookie run #x reader #cookie run ovenbreak x reader #longan dragon cookie #longan dragon cookie x reader #cookie run ovenbreak #×🍓:★❝BREADARCADE❞

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itscatchyouintherye · 3 months ago

Text

hopedrunk

A pipe breaks in your neighbor’s apartment, flooding your bedroom. House, selflessly, lets you crash on his couch.

“You’re late.” House says while writing on the whiteboard, his back to you.

“Since when do you have a concept of early and late?” You ask while you sit down, out of breath.

Leaning on his cane, he turns around and raises an eyebrow. He’s wearing a dress shirt today, blazer thrown aside, first two buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbow. The arm he rests his weight on bulges and strains the fabric. His hair is also a little chaotic; apparently, he ran his fingers through it several times. His eyes are bright and pierce into you. God, he’s attractive…

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“You rarely deflect.”

“And you are shit at psychological profiles.”

“We all know that’s not true.” House replies, unimpressed.

“Saying that everybody lies does, in fact, not make you a member of the BAU.”

“Ayo!” Chase gives you a high-five.

A smile spreads on House face: “Now that’s a deep cut.”

You think that might be the end of it, but after Chase and Foreman left the room and you’re hunched over files, House says: “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask a question. You made a statement.”

“Don’t sass me.”

Your eyes flick up: “I know you like it.”

“So?”

You sigh: “A pipe broke in my neighbor’s apartment and flooded my bedroom.”

He begins to grin widely.

“Yeah, exactly.” You go on. “I know what that sounds like.”

“Did ‘his pipe’” He makes quotation marks in the air, “burst this morning or was it late last night?”

“Her-“ You immediately realize that that makes it not one bit less suggestive.

“Nice!” House winks and offers you his hand for a high-five like Chase did earlier. “So you made her-“

“House!”

“So, you’ll ‘sleep’,” He makes quotation marks again, “at her place tonight?”

You’re very close to flipping him off when you realize what he’s asking indirectly.

“I’ll probably get a hotel room.”

“You can have my couch.”

Stunned, you find his eyes. They suggest that he’s actually serious.

“I- oh, erm.” You try to win time to not immediately blurt out an enthusiastic YES, but don’t know how to stall. “Sure, okay.” You say instead.

House nods and then says something about a new symptom that manifested itself this morning. You’re too astonished to react.

Thank fuck, Chase reenters the room and declares: “Petechial rash in reaction to the antidote. Otherwise no-“

“What?” Your voice shoots up, alarm bells going off in the back of your head as at least part of your mind is capable of doing your job.

“Petechial rash.” Chace repeats. “Otherwise, no reaction.”

“Have you taken their temperature? Just now, I mean.”

“No, why would I do that?”

Your head snaps around and you look at House, wide-eyed.

“Ice bath.” He says. “Now!”

House pushes the door to his apartment open and lets you enter first. Yawning, you walk past him and look around. The only reason you’re not completely losing it at the fact that you’re in House’ apartment, is that it’s two in the morning and you’re exhausted beyond belief.

You throw your bag on the ground and take your shoes off while House locks the door.

“You sure you want to take the couch?” He suddenly asks.

“What?” You turn around, irritated. “You said I could crash here. Do you want me to-“

“Had I known you would end up here, I had thrown out my couch in the morning to leave you with no choice.” He appears nonchalant and joking but clears his throat twice while he hangs up his jacket. “Now I only can offer you the bed.”

“Yeah, right.” You scoff and trudge to the living room and sink into said couch with a groan.

“Beer?” House pipes up from the kitchen.

“How do you still have energy?” You barely lift your head off the backrest to look in his direction.

“Sleepovers are exciting.”

“I cannot tell if you’re making fun of me or…I don’t know.”

“Well, after what you did with your neighbor…I wouldn’t be surprised if my pipes would be broken by the morning as well.” He wiggles his eyebrows while he limps towards you.

“House!” You shout. “I didn’t fuck my neighbor! And what are you even- What is wrong with you!?”

He sits down at the other end of the couch and offers you a bottle, showing little reaction to your outburst. You roll your eyes at him but take the bottle and say: “If I weren’t about to pass out, I would leave.”

“I heard that one before.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You run your hand over your face and take a big gulp of the beer.

Make no mistake, you do enjoy the banter. But it’s getting inherently difficult for you to not bluntly flirt back and see if he goes through with it or if he’s only being an ass.

“You’re very attractive when you curse.”

Your head snaps around and you stare at him, not sure if he actually said that.

“I don’t think I heard it before.” He goes on, licking his lips before taking another sip.

“Stop messing with me.”

His eyes dart over your face.

“I’m vulnerable when I’m tired.” You add.

“I heard-“

“Yeah, yeah, you heard that one before.” You sigh and get up. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“End of the hall.”

You walk up to it.

“House!” You call. “That’s the bedroom.”

“Oops.”

You open the door to the right and find the bathroom. Quickly, you slip inside, more hiding from House than anything else. With a groan, you rest your forehead against the wood. You knew he would mess with you. It’s House. However, you don’t think he realizes how badly you want to take any of his comments serious and jump him. Or he does and is consciously using it against you.

When you exit the bathroom, somewhat freshened up and ready to just get this over with and go to sleep, House is coming out of the bedroom, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. You enjoy his night-attire a little too much to immediately notice the blanket, well probably bed cover, he’s holding out towards you. His face is actually somewhat serious now, which confuses you even more.

“Thanks.” You say quietly when you finally take it.

He nods, one hand resting on the doorframe. Behind him, you see the very large, very comfortable looking bed and…don’t even think about it.

You look at each other for another long moment. His mouth opens like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

“Night, House.” You give him a half-smile and make your way back to the living room.

You haven’t really thought about if you should just sleep in your clothes, or partially undress, or- A shirt lies on the backrest of the couch.

You look back in House’ direction, but the door to the bedroom is closed.

Stunned, you take the neatly folded, black t-shirt. It’s clearly House’. And it’s clearly for you.

You smell it. Of course, it fucking smells like him and makes you smile like an idiot.

You’re half asleep, huddled up under the blanket, hugging yourself, when steps in the hallway drag you back into full consciousness.

You hold your breath, listening. You expect House to simply go to the bathroom, but his steps get too loud. You freeze, doing your best to pretend you’re fast asleep and not have your heart beating in your throat as he approaches. Maybe, you think, maybe he’s going to the kitchen instead. To get water or something.

“Hey.” House’ voice is gravelly.

You don’t dare to react.

He puts his hand on your shoulder. You flinch.

“Hey.” He chuckles and you look up at him.

In the darkness of the apartment, you can just barely make out his face.

“Hm?” You’re confused as much as you are enjoying his hand on your shoulder.

“Come on.” He says softly and nods towards the bedroom.

“I-“

“It’s fine.”

That’s pretty much all it takes to convince you.

Slowly, you sit up and get to your feet. House does not take his hand away but moves it to your back instead. You let him guide you. All the way over the threshold of the bedroom and to his bed.

He lifts the blanket for you, and you crawl into the sheets. The soft fabric on your naked legs makes you remember that you’re wearing no bottoms besides your panties. Well, that’s really not what is tilting this situation towards inappropriate…

You let out a relieved sigh when you sink into the mattress, head hitting the soft pillow. It’s so much warmer, so much more comfortable, and smells so much more like House and feels so much more intimate.

And that is before he even gets into bed on the other side.

You know he’s tall, but now you, for the first time, get to witness what that translates to when he lies down in a bed. How it feels to have his weight dent the mattress. What it sounds like when he scoots closer and pulls the blanket over himself.

A little stiff, you turn to your side and try to find a comfortable position without accidentally touching House. You try to will yourself back into your sleepy state.

“Comfortable?” He asks after a minute.

“Hmh.” You hum. “Definitely more comfortable than the couch.”

“Good.”

After another pause, he speaks up again. His voice is closer now, meaning he has his head turned towards you. “I wasn’t making fun of you.”

His words hang heavy in the air. Your thoughts race without going anywhere.

“I know.” You whisper.

“No, you don’t.”

You laugh quietly. “Night, House.”

He doesn’t reply.

You remember a few half-conscious gestures of caring less about touching House’ arm or rolling towards his side. You do not, however, remember that he more than welcomed it.

So, it comes as quite a shock to you that you wake up with his arm around you. Actually, he is pretty much draped over and around you, face buried in the crook of your neck, lightly snoring into your ear.

It’s light out, but in the position you are in, you can barely see anything of him. You do, though, feel most of him. His warm chest, his heavy limbs, his soft skin, his scratchy beard.

You enjoy his closeness for a bit, even though it threatens to overwhelm you, to make you overthink and overanalyze.

“House.” You eventually whisper into his ear.

He inhales deeply and shifts but does not seem to really wake up.

You move your head and manage to reach his cheek. You press a kiss to it and murmur: “House.”

“Don’t want to wake up yet.” He sighs.

“Why not?”

“Nice dream…” He mumbles and shifts again, holding onto you tighter before apparently drifting off. You smile and for another minute you allow yourself to feel happy and content about this absurd situation. And maybe a little aroused.

Then you turn in his arms to get into a more comfortable position and hug him back, fearing this might be over any moment now.

You can hear his breathing pattern change and suddenly he presses kisses to the side of your neck, making you gasp.

“Now that I think about it,” His voice is raspy, “this is nice too.”

You shiver, running your hand over his arm, lightly squeezing it.

House hums and lets his hands wander too; over your sides, down to your outer thighs, back up, lightly skimming over you half-exposed ass. It makes you smile, and you huddle up closer into his arms. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head before he begins to play with your hair. You highly enjoy it and kiss his throat before sinking into his embrace, eye-lids heavy again.

You lie there for a while, House continuously caressing you and clearly basking in your closeness.

Suddenly, it occurs to you how haven’t kissed yet what you most desire: his lips. Timid, you lift your head. House shifts and gives you the room, arm around your back instead your shoulders.

When you make eye-contact, you smile. House does too, but he seems nervous. Very nervous and unsure.

“You okay?” You whisper.

“I-“ He seems to try to come up with a sarcastic reply, but the words get stuck in his throat.

Gently, and a little impatient, you rest your hand on the side of his face and pull him in. For the fraction of a second, House hesitates, but then he smashes his lips onto yours. You sigh and press your body into his. He groans and pushes his tongue into your mouth, grabbing the back of your knee to make you drape your leg over his hip.

Soon, you’re grinding against him, hands in his hair, House devouring you.

Panting, you suck on the skin below his jaw before you come back up to kiss him as deep and hard as you can. He groans loudly, flipping you over to fully lie on top of you, your leg still around him.

House yanks the blanket aside that was bunching up between your crotches and grinds down on you, making you inhale sharply when the tip of his hard dick hits your clit.

“Jesus, House…” You breathe out.

“I’ll be honest…” He murmurs, “My pipe is already about to burst.”

You snort.

“Oh god, just like in my nightmares…she laughs at me.” He adds.

Which only makes you laugh harder.

Leaning his forehead against your shoulder, he lets out a chuckle as well.

Then he trails kisses over your jaw and asks quietly: “Can I go down on you?”

You clench around nothing and are about to agree, but then say: “I always liked your hands…”

“Did you now?” He leans up to find your eyes, a smirk on his lips.

“And want to see your pretty face for a bit longer.”

House lets out a little huff.

“I’m not making fun of you.” You whisper.

He slithers his hand down your side. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.” You laugh and move your legs so that he can reach your crotch easier.

“Maybe I don’t.” He agrees quietly and kisses you again while running his middle and ring finger through your audibly wet labia.

Before he can comment on it, you say: “If you make another burst pipe joke, I will fucking leave.”

“Oh, no.” He sucks on your bottom lip. “Making you wet and moan is no laughing matter.”

“Go-arrghh, shit.” Your head falls back when he pushes two fingers into you.

House tilts his wrist to massage sensitive spots deeper inside of you, making your moan and clasp his face to pull him in for messy kisses. He is quick to lean on his side to be able to fully kiss you whilst keeping his hand between your legs.

“Good?” He asks, peppering your cheek with kisses to let you breathe.

“Yeah, I- very.”

House smiles against your skin and sucks on the side of your neck. After another minute of making you writhe and roll your hips into his hand, he murmurs: “Harder or faster?”

“Faster.” You sigh, head thrown back, arms around him.

“What else? What do you need?”

“Just don’t stop.”

He finds your lips again, kissing you surprisingly softly; nudging your nose with his, spreading more kisses over your neck…and back to your mouth to greedily swallow your gasps.

“Fuck, House…” You warn, body stiffening.

“Please…please cum for me.”

You never heard his rough voice sound so needy.

With another groan, your hips lift off the mattress, and you cum around his fingers. He slows down, taking his hand away to caress your thighs while you shake, eyes pressed shut to enjoy the relief.

“You’re so pretty when you cum.” House whispers into your ear.

It sends a jolt down your spine, and you basically melt into him.

Panting, you bury your face in his chest. He rests his cheek on the top of your head and makes sure you’re fully covered by the blanket while you come down.

He’s being so sweet, it almost irritates you. Obviously, you imagined sex with House a lot. But, somehow, your phantasies never included how he would be afterwards.

“How’s your pipe?” You mumble.

It makes him chuckle: “I thought no more pipe jokes.”

“Not a joke. Serious question.”

“Painfully hard.”

You lift your head and finally look at his face again. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes focused on you.

Holding the eye contact, you slither your hand down his body to find his dick. It is, in fact, rock-hard. House inhales sharply when you touch it.

“Aw, that bad?”

“You have no idea.”

You give it a few careful strokes, which is already enough to make House thrust his hips upwards and curse into your ear.

“Where would you like to cum?” You whisper.

His lips part. “My god.” He breathes out.

“What?”

“I’m trying really hard to neither cum nor say something stupid right now.”

“But it would feel so good, wouldn’t it?” You purr into his ear, adjusting your grip of his cock, running your thumb over the tip.

House makes a choked noise.

“It has to hurt by now, doesn’t it? You’re so fucking hard and dripping…all the penned-up tension…”

“I-“ He bites into your shoulder. “Yes, yes…”

“So, where would you like to cum?”

“It- I feel-“

You lean back to find his eyes. You can tell that he’s about to lose it and wants nothing more than to cum, but it takes him another two, three strokes until he says: “Your thighs. I always liked your thighs. God…” He groans. “Your fucking dress pants that accentuate them…How the fuck do you make dress pants slutty?”

You smile and scoot down, throwing the blanket aside, to lay fully on your back and expose your completely nude lower body to House.

He manages to move and crawl onto you, straddling one of your legs. You rake your eyes over all the naked skin you get to see. The building upper arms, his clenched fist around his cock, his scarred leg.

You put one hand on his thigh, covering the scar with your palm and use the other to pull on his balls. Rigorously, House keeps jerking himself off, his eyes darting between your face and your thighs.

Then he grunts as hot ropes of cum begin to cover your thighs, some of them reaching up to your hips.

“God, fuck…” He breathes out, eventually toppling over and sinking into the sheets next to you. You grin to yourself and turn towards him, wiping his cum off with the blanket.

House rests his arm on his forehead, eyes closed, taking deep breaths. You lean in, kissing his neck and behind his ear. It makes him hum and blindly reach for you to put his arm around you and pull you in.

“I don’t like this.” He suddenly says, voice hoarse.

“What?” Bewildered, you look at him.

“You’re too good at this.”

When you don’t reply, he turns his head to see your confused face.

“I haven’t even cum inside of you yet and I already don’t want you to ever leave this bed.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Careerwise? Yeah. Otherwise: my refractory period is about ten to fifteen minutes.”

#fanfic #reader insert #smut #female reader #fluff #reader x greg house #gregory house #house md #sleepover #sleep on the floor

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hibiscuswrites · 1 year ago

Note

Do you write for COD MW2?? If you do, could I have Ghost, Alejandro, Rudy, and Price reaction to coming home to their women after a tough mission with a lot of close calls?? Thanks!

I do! 🥰 I haven’t yet but I’d like to try my hand at them so I’ve added them to my list. I’ve written a few things for practice but I haven’t posted them. Admittedly, I don’t feel like I write Soap very well 🥴 but I’ll keep trying. Hope you like it 💕

Edit: just realized I’m illiterate and put soap instead of price so I added him in at the end 🙈 sorry about that

You can see his shoulders drop in relief as soon as he lays eyes on you

Happy to be home

Happy to be safe

Happy to be back with you

There were a few times he was worried he wouldn’t make it back to you and not that he finally has, he can’t let you go

His embrace is gentle yet secure as he clings to you

“Missed you so much, mi vida.”

He clings to you for days once he’s back

Definitely makes you breakfast in bed with fresh fruits and whipped cream smiley faces on your pancakes

He’ll sit with you on the couch and watch whatever your heart desires

He makes love to you gently

All soft kisses and hand holding

Enjoys for you to ride him and lets you take whatever you need from him

He’s more than happy to lay there and look up at you looking like a goddess as you bounce and grind

Nearly knocks you over with the force of his embrace when he finally gets his hands on you

One too many close calls where he wondered if gazing at the picture of you in his best would be the last time he ever saw you

He’s handsy

Paws gripping at your ass and thighs as he spins around with you

“There she is, my pretty girl.”

Probably trips with you

He doesn’t mean to be rough with you, he just can’t help it that he’s clumsy in his excitement

He goes down on you every chance he gets on nearly every surface in the house

On the sofa

In the shower

With you bent over the kitchen counter

He’s a munch through and through

And stays by your side like a puppy, simply happy to be back with his favorite girl

His embrace feels like it could pop your eyes clean out of your head

It’s tight and desperate almost

One bulky arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head, holding your face into his chest

Before he had you, it didn’t matter all that much if he didn’t make it home

But now that you’re his, he knows he needs to make it back in one piece

He needs to be there to protect you

To look after you

To make sure you eat and drink enough water

He holds you tightly as if you might slip away if he’s not careful

Eyes fluttering closed as you lean forward and press a soft kiss to the bridge if his nose

He allows himself to enjoy your affection and tenderness, whether he believes he deserves it or not

Loves soaking in a hot bath with you, feeling your back against his chest as he just enjoys the safe silence

Just don’t tell any one

He also will go down on you until you cry, hands pushing away at his head and shoulders

Whining that you can’t take any more

But he’s not interested in hearing that

“Sure you can, love. You wouldn’t deny me this perfect pretty pussy now, would ya?”

He devours you as soon as he has you in his arms

His mouth and hands touching everywhere he can get to

He’s barely got the door locked behind him before he’s stripping you

Leaving soft bites and hickies trailed along your body

He knows things could’ve easily gone south and he would’ve never seen you again

And that’s a thought he simply cannot bear

He’s got you in a mating press on the living room floor before you know it

Eyes fixated on your face as you whimper and pant, full to the brim with him

He commits every expression and noise to memory

“Missed me like crazy, huh chulita? My poor baby was so lonely without me.”

He ignores the rug burn in his knees, the very least of his worries

But he’s tender and caring with you afterwards, cleaning you up and cooking you your favorite meal

Planning date nights

Taking you out dancing

Enjoying as much of you as he possibly can before he has to leave again

He encases you tightly

Breathing in your scent

Committing it to memory

He’s missed you like crazy

Gazed at that crumpled picture of you in his pocket just in case it’s the last time

And now that he’s home he just can’t take his eyes or hands off of you

He wants to shower, get the grime off before he taints you

And he brings you with him

Making sure he’s clean before he has you pressed against the shower wall

Showing you how much he’s missed his girl

“Can’t get enough of you, I swear. You’ve ruined me.”

Romance for days once he’s back home

Flowers fresh from the florist

Little love notes scattered around the house

Anything to see you smile

General taglist

@titty-teetee @vibranium-soul @ateliefloresdaprimavera @glimmerglittergirl @hatterripper31 @lilac-tea-time @krysiewithak

#headcannons #alejandro vargas x reader #rudy parra x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #alejandro vargas #rudy parra #cod mw2 #captain price #price x reader

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middleearthpixie · 2 years ago

Note

Can you please write a fic where Thorin falls in love with a human girl, but he thinks she is disgusted by his looks? 🙏

Hi there, Nonny!! I know it took me forEVER, but here you go and i hope you like it! 💜

The Harp

Summary: You and Thorin are friends, but then you find out his feelings for you run deeper, and he’s holding back because he feels he is not good enough for you.

Pairing: Thorin x fem!Reader (post-sack of Erebor, pre-quest for Erebor)

Warning: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.7k

***

He came into the dining room at the same time each evening and always sat at the same table—the one in the far corner, which was also the darkest corner of the room. He was polite, but kept to himself and you noticed how he always sat with his back to the wall and rarely did his eyes pause from scanning the room.

The other diners eyed him with just as much suspicion but then again, they all eyed each other with suspicion as well. It was second nature to this lot, as they came from all four corners of Middle Earth. No one was actually from Emyn Vanya. No, every warm body had come from somewhere else to this tiny village on the outskirts of everywhere and yet somehow in the middle of nowhere. Some came to start over. Some came to forget. Some came to do both and some were just passing through. But everyone was from somewhere else and almost no one wished to discuss where that somewhere else might be.

You couldn't help but notice him, for he was a dwarf and the Grey Gander did not see many dwarves in their dining room. And not only that, but he was a handsome dwarf, to boot, with black hair, touched here and there with hints of silver, that spilled over his shoulders in a long tangle of curls. His most striking feature was his eyes, however, for they were the most piercing shade of icy blue you’d ever seen. There was a hardness within those pale eyes, one belied by his polite demeanor and deep, if soft, voice.

Night after night, this man came in alone. He sat alone. He spoke to no one other than you when you approached to take his order, just as you did this evening. He was polite, if reserved, and spoke only when absolutely necessary, which was an interesting change from the patrons who grew louder and more opinionated as they dove further and further into their cups.

“Welcome back,” you said with a smile as you approached him. “Might I fetch you a drink to begin?”

“Thank you. A tanked of ale would suit.”

“Of course. And do you know what you’d like or are you still trying to decide?”

He looked up at you with those striking eyes. “The hunter’s stew.”

His order never varied and you were certain you could just bring him a bowl of the stew without asking, which was why you couldn't resist a bit of playing with him. “I think we should start calling that your usual. Perhaps we should change it on the menu itself.”

That earned you one of the dwarf’s rare smiles. “I am not so certain that is necessary.”

“Well, you’ve been in here eight of the last ten nights and have yet to order anything different.” You couldn’t help teasing him. You sensed a hint of sadness in him, one that might explain the hardness in his eyes. And while it was a bit of a risk, teasing this man you didn’t really know, you had to admit, his smile made the risk worthwhile.

“But,” you added, taking your teasing further than you normally did, “you would have to tell me your name first. I certainly cannot ask to rename it Dwarf Stew. That would give the wrong impression, don’t you think?”

A darkness flashed through his eyes and you knew you’d overstepped. Your mind raced as you struggled to come up with something to smooth over his obviously ruffled feathers, knowing your employer would be furious if your flippancy drove away a paying customer. “I mean… that is… I apolo—”

“No,” he interrupted softly, shaking his head, “there is no need to apologize. And you’re right, it would sound odd. So, I suppose then, it would only be fair to tell you my name, wouldn’t it?”

Your heart beat a little faster at that. Perhaps it was but your imagination, but his voice sounded lower than it normally did. Lower and bit growlier. Had he, by any chance, noticed you the way you’d noticed him?

No, that was madness talking. Very few people noticed you aside from being their serving girl. You tended to blend into the background far too easily and since so many people in Emyn Vanya were only passing through, they paid little heed to you.

Still, that didn't stop you from replying, “It would, yes.”

To your surprise, that earned you a laugh. A genuine, honest-to-goodness laugh and one that sent flutters through you as it rolled across the small table in your direction. Like his voice, it was low and silken, and those flutters made you forget your own name for a moment.

“Very well,” he nodded, his eyes meeting and holding yours, “I am Thorin.”

You offered your name in return and added, “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Thorin.”

“And yours as well.”

Heat climbed into your cheeks and you ducked your head, saying, “I will be back in a few moments with your ale,” you hesitated, then added, “Thorin.”

“I will be here.”

Thorin sat back as you darted off and couldn't believe his cheek. What had possessed him to even think to flirt with you? Your interest had to be only because he was a paying customer, because there was no way a woman as beautiful as you could possibly be interested in him.

The first time he stepped into the Grey Gander, he’d noticed you at once, noticed how easily you smiled and joked with the tavern’s patrons. Your laughter was a silvery melody that made everyone turn in your direction and smile even if they had no idea what it was that made you laugh.

He noticed everything about you—from that amazing smile and intoxicating laughter to your beautiful eyes and easy grace with which you moved about the crowded dining room. You never seemed impatience, or irritated, and even when someone gave you a hard time about something, you never lost your temper and somehow managed to defuse the most volatile of situations.

The second night he’d come in, he’d witness such a scene, almost reaching for his sword, propped against the table, when the giant of man actually grabbed you by the arm. He had no doubt he’d have intervened if you needed it, but you didn’t. You smiled at the man as you peeled his fingers from your wrist and very sweetly informed him that if he touched you again, you’d turn him from a rooster to a hen in one fell swoop.

It was at that moment, Thorin lost his heart.

A foolish notion at best, as you would never feel about him the way he did you. Why would you? He was a dwarf. He had no home. He had been in line for a throne, but now supported himself by moving from place to place, taking work where he could find it.

That was what brought him to Emyn Vanya. His trade was blacksmithing and the village needed one. So, there he was, in the dining room of the Grey Gander, admiring you from afar and wishing he stood a chance at winning your hand.

It was just as well, for what did he have to offer you? A king with no kingdom was no better than a pauper, really. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t compete with the men of Emyn Vanya, who were all taller, slimmer, and far more attractive than he certainly was. You would be a fool to even consider him.

But, he watched you from afar, watched as you moved from table to table, how you brought a beaming smile to the face of an old crone, how you soothed angry children bickering over a toy, how you made a crying infant smile by making silly faces until they could do nothing else.

How you focused on him as if he was the most interesting man in the room and not, for lack of a better phrase, a homely, homeless refugee.

If only…

He sighed as you approached with a tankard in one hand. His heart beat so much faster when you met his gaze. His mouth went as dry as the plains between his lost kingdom of Erebor and the city of Dale after the dragon Smaug torched it from one end to the other.

You set the tankard before him. “Your supper will be ready in but a few minutes, Mr. Thorin.”

Mr. Thorin. He smiled, shaking his head. “No Mister. Thorin is just fine.”

“Oh, well that wouldn’t be proper now, would it?” Your eyes almost sparkled as your easy smile curved your lips. “After all, we only just met.”

“This is true,” he nodded, reaching for the tankard. Then, on impulse, he added, “Perhaps you might join me one evening?”

You looked taken aback and he immediately berated himself silently. You fool! What is wrong with you?

But then you smiled. “I think I would like that. I have an off night tomorrow. Would that work for you?”

He was stunned, not only by your agreement, but by your suggestion. No woman ever approached him that way. He’d always been the one to ask. You were bold and he admired that. So, he nodded. “That would work just fine for me.”

“Wonderful. What time?”

“Half seven?”

“Half seven it is,” you told him. “And I’ll be back in but a moment with your supper.”

****

What were you thinking? How could you just blurt out an invitation to him that way? He must think you a harlot, or a wanton woman for doing so.

But at the same time, as you smoothed a hand along your skirts, you had to admit, you looked so forward to seeing him without having to wait upon him. It was a nice change of pace for you. A break in the monotony of your life that was work, sleep, and more work.

You’d told him where you lived, a rundown little flat above the florist’s shop, and at half eight, when the knock came at the door, you nearly jumped clear out of your skin. Then, laughing at your foolishness, you hurried to the door, before he thought you’d changed your mind and left.

You smiled as you pulled open the door. “You are early.”

“I allowed myself extra time in case I found myself lost. I’m still new to these parts and this town takes a bit of getting used to.”

“If you remember the streets run east and west, and the avenues run north and south, you might fare better.”

He bobbed his head. “I would, but there are three florists on this street alone.”

“It is a very competitive business in Emyn Vanya.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

You hesitated a moment and then stepped aside. “Come in.”

As he stepped over the threshold, you tried not to dwell on how shabby your flat was, with its scratched and scuffed hand-me-down furnishings. After you paid your rent and made certain there was food on the table, there was not much money left for luxuries such as nice furniture. Normally, it didn't trouble you. This was your home and you thought it cozy, if a bit rundown. But, when you tried to see it through Thorin’s eyes?

You saw exactly how awful it must have looked to him. Threadbare sofa. The armchair had a hole in the cushion thanks to a broken spring, which meant that not only was stuffing peeping up from the hole, one received a nasty poke in the backside, should they think to sit there.

And of course, there was that awful water stain in the far corner. You had no idea from where it had come, only that no matter how much you tried to paint over it, it bled through. You’d given up trying when paint fell into the luxury category.

But, he reached up for the frogs at his throat and then whisked his cloak off to drape over his arm. “This is lovely.”

Lovely? You looked about, wondering exactly what he found so lovely about it. “It’s a bit… ah… worn, don't you think?”

“Lived in, is how I would describe it.” He smiled at you. “Homes should be lived in. That is how they become such. Otherwise, they are but houses, flats, nothing more than buildings.”

You looked back at him. “Lived in?”

He nodded. “Lived in.”

Then he looked back at you and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. Did he have any idea whatsoever as to how handsome he truly was? Because if he did, he certainly did not act as if he did.

Of course, you kept that to yourself, especially when that night, a deep friendship was born. You had dinner together on the nights when you weren’t working. You spent off days together, sometimes running errands with each other, sometimes just doing nothing. He had a knack for the acrostics printed in the village newspaper and the two of you spent your share of days or nights looking up which answers you thought would work. It didn't matter. He had quickly become your dearest friend and while you loved that, you’d also begun thinking that perhaps there was a bit more to your relationship than only friendship.

It was too bad he’d never given any indication at all that he saw you as anything more than a friend.

So you stayed quiet. Autumn gave way to winter and the Yule holiday was only a few days off when you made your way to Thorin’s forge at the northern end of town. A bitter cold wind whipped down the narrow alleyway where his shop was located and you didn't have to look to know you were near it. The carved wooden sign identifying the forge creaked on its hooks as it swung in the wind. Through the swirling snow, you could still make out the word etched into the wood.

Blacksmith

Beneath that word, Thorin had carved symbols as well, and when you’d asked, he’d smiled and explained that they were a language called khuzdul, which was his native language, actually. He’d attempted to teach you some of it, and showed nothing but patience as you fumbled over seemingly simple words. Little by little, though, it became easier and left you wishing you had something like that to share with him.

But then you found something. One night, over several goblets of wine, he confessed that he once played the harp, but had lost his when he’d lost his home, but that was all he would say about either the harp or what happened to his home. So, you’d saved a bit of your pay each week and put it aside and then went to the music shop at the far end of town and found what you’d hoped would be a suitable replacement harp. It wasn't a big, grand instrument, as those were far beyond what you could ever hope to afford, but you hoped he’d like it the same. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so excited and impatient to give someone a gift as you were this one, which was why you braved the worsening weather.

So there you were, at the far end of a gray-shingled building with a roof in need of repair, listening to the almost melodic sound of metal striking metal. The closer you drew to his workshop, the warmer the air grew and as you rounded the corner, a blast of heat hit you square in the face. It was a welcome sensation as your cheeks felt quite numb from the cold.

He had his back to you and heat shot through you at the sight of him, shirtless in deference to that blasted heat, the muscles in his back and along his shoulders bulging as he held a piece of iron in one hand, a hammer in the other. The clang rang through you when he brought the hammer slamming against the iron, again and again and you couldn't help but just stare.

Your eyes roamed over his naked back, heavy with obviously well-earned muscle, and inked with black lines of varying sizes that covered his entire shoulder, stretched across his back, and into the opposite shoulder as well. You had no idea what the symbols and lines meant, but they looked very similar to the ones carved into the forge’s sign, so your guess was they were dwarfish runes or words.

The heat in the forge was brutal regardless of how cold it was beyond the walls. Sweat prickled along your back as you stepped closer. You didn't want to startle him. The iron with which he worked began with an orange glow, but slowly, as he pounded it flat, the glow faded and when he set down the hammer and used a pair of tongs to pick up the flattened piece and thrust it into a tub of water, steam actually rose from the tub.

“Thorin?”

He jumped, letting go of the tongs as he spun around and now heat shot up into your cheeks at the naked chest you found yourself staring at. Like his back, his chest was just as broad, with black hair swirled from one nipple to the other and down across his belly. More symbols had been inked across it, meeting with the design on his left shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” you stammered, tearing your eyes from that impressive sight to meet his startled blue eyes, “I was trying not to startle you.”

“What are you doing here?”

You hugged the package close. “I had to go and pick something up and thought while I was out, I’d stop by.” You peered around him, at the iron still resting in the water. “What are you making?”

“A sword.” He reached for the towel draped over the workbench and swept it across his forehead. “You should not be in here. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I will come no closer then. But tell me, who commissioned the sword?”

“No one. It is mine. I work on it when I’ve a bit of free time.”

“Might I see?”

“It’s not even close to being finished.” He came around the bench and stood before you. His black hair was damp at the temples.

“You don't have to stop on my account, you know.” You took a step closer to him, the urge to reach out and touch him so powerful, it nearly overwhelmed you. You wish you had the courage to tell him how you’d come to feel about him, as you’d had when you’d left your flat. You’d left there full of fire and determined to confess your feelings for him, but unfortunately, by the time you reached his forge, that courage evaporated like the water in the tub had.

“It would be rude of me to continue.”

“Not at all. I think it would be fascinating, watching you work.”

His gaze shifted slightly to his left and you followed it to see what he looked at—a heavy dark gray henley lay draped over a chair by his desk. Without thinking, you shifted the package to one arm and reached out to catch him by the upper arm as he stretched for his shirt.

“Wait, don’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“Don’t?”

You nodded. “I—what is this?” You traced your fingertips along the thick black lines curving his shoulder, unable to believe your own brazenness but unable to halt your touch as well.

“It’s my… my… it’s a raven,” he managed, his voice deep and huskier than usual. He cleared his throat. “The symbol of my clan, and my family crest.”

You could not keep yourself from tracing along those lines as little by little, the image of a raven wearing a crown slowly showed itself to you. You’d held back from telling him how you felt for so long, now that the opportunity to perhaps go beyond friendship had presented itself and you were not about to let it slip by. But… you had to be careful. It was a delicate matter and that called for delicate handling. The last thing you wished to do was destroy your friendship with him.

With that, you lowered your hand “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“This is for you, by the by.” You pressed the package toward him. “I know Yule isn’t for several more days, but when I went to pick this up, I grew far too impatient to wait.”

He stared down at it. “What is it?”

“Well, you have to open it to find out.”

He took the package and slowly unwrapped it and then just stared, his blue eyes growing shiny as he murmured, “How did you know?”

“You told me, silly.” You nudged him with your shoulder. “Remember? We were talking about how my neighbor plays the harpsichord and how awful it sounds and you told me you once played the harp. So, I asked Mr. Trumble if he could find me a harp for you and he did me one better. He made this.”

“He—” those blue eyes met yours, wide and incredulous—“made this?”

You nodded. “He did, indeed.”

He gazed down at the harp, and then back at you. “I—this—this is beautiful. I thank you.”

“There is one condition to it, however.” You nudged him once more. “You must play it for me.”

“Oh, I couldn't now. I’d be far too rusty.”

“Well, once you flake off all the rust.”

“Fair enough.” He offered up a smile brighter than any you’d ever seen from him. “You shouldn’t have done this, though. Save your wages, don’t spend them on me.”

“I didn't mind.” You shrugged as if you spent that kind of money all the time. “And it’s Yule, so it was but a small sacrifice.”

He stepped closer. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, you know. I will treasure it. And you.”

And with that, he leaned in and to your surprise, pressed his lips to yours. You froze at first, caught by utter surprise, as this was the last thing you’d expected him to do. For one maddening moment, you wondered if perhaps you were just imagining it.

But then, his lips moved softly against yours and your toes actually curled in your sensible boots when he brought his hands up to cup your face, and you knew that this was, in fact, actually happening. And how wonderful it was! The sensations that rippled through you were soft and sweet, the crisp, coarse hair around his mouth tickling at first, but then you found you didn't mind it so much as it was a caress of its own.

Your head did a slow spin, his kiss leaving you lightheaded and when your hands came to rest on those massive upper arms of his, your fingers pressed into muscle that greatly resembled stone of their own accord. You were afraid your weak knees might buckle on you at any moment.

His kiss was slow and sweet, teasing and gentle and when his lips parted and his tongue swept gently along yours, your head spun even faster. A rush of heat swept through you. Your lips tingled. Your heart beat harder and faster and it took every bit of will you had to not melt right into his arms.

When he drew back, his eyes were soft, swirling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place and he seemed as breathless as you were as he murmured, “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time now.”

“What?”

He nodded. “I do and I did and now I just want to do it again.” Then he paused, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his smile, into his eyes, “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t.”

“No, I’d not rather that at all,” you told him, smiling as you curved a hand against his cheek. “In fact, I’d like it very much if you would do it again. And again. And I think you should keep doing, no matter where we might be.”

A low chuckle rumbled up from the depths of his chest. “So, I am not about to send you screaming into the snow?”

“Hardly.”

“Are you certain? I mean,” he rubbed his bearded jaw ruefully, a sheepish smile coming to his lips, “I know people whisper about me and poke fun at me behind my back.”

“They whisper about you because they are fascinated by you. And no one pokes fun at you. I know they think you’re quite an excellent smithy, judging by what I’ve heard. And I won’t even tell you what the women say about you.”

To your surprise, his sheepish smile faded and a darkness came to his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“Have I said something wrong? I thought I was complimenting you. Do dwarves not like to hear how handsome they are thought to be?”

“Handsome?” He snorted as he shook his head. “That’s kind of you, but I’ve seen my own face and that is not how I’d describe it.”

“Well, perhaps you should but have Mr. Sinclair examine your eyes, for you are not only handsome, but very handsome.”

He stared at you, clearly not believing a word you said. “Thank you, but you are just being kind, as you’ve been since we met.”

“Thorin,” you caught his hands in yours, “I’ve been wishing you’d notice me as more than simply your friend, that you’d kiss me, and perhaps I’ve been too brazen in taking the first step. If you wish me to leave you alone, I will.”

“Leave me alone?” His eyes went wide and he shook his head once more. “No, no, I don’t wish that at all. In fact, I—”

A scarlet flush swept up into his cheeks and he went quiet. You waited for him to continue, your heart hammering away at your ribs. All you wanted was for him to pull you into his arms, to tug you flush against that massive chest, and kiss you until you forgot your name.

“You what?” you asked softly.

“I lied. About the sword.” He smiled then. “It’s for you, actually. For Yule. I meant it to be a surprise.”

“For me? But I don't even know who to wield one.”

“Worry not, for I will teach you. When the weather breaks.”

“You did this for me? You would do that for me?”

He nodded. “I would do anything for you, you know.” His eyes softened then as he smiled. “I love you.”

This was the last thing you ever expected him to say and you could only stare at him for a long moment, as your stupid brain forgot how to process words. The best you could muster was a whispered, “What?”

“I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but how could I when I thought you would be embarrassed to be courted by me. So, I relegated myself to knowing we would only ever be friends, but now…”

“Embarrassed to be courted by you? Are you mad, Thorin? Are you absolutely and completely mad? Because you would have to be to think any woman alive would be embarrassed to be courted by you.” You shifted to wind your arms about his neck. “And no one has ever made something for me. At least, not something as beautiful as a sword. So, if I didn't already love you in return, I would have most definitely fallen at this moment.”

He smiled. “So, all this time, it would’ve only taken a sword to win your hand?”

“I’m a very simple woman, Thorin. You should know that by now.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he eased his arms about your waist, pulling you flush against him. He leaned closer, his lips just brushing yours as he murmured, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

You tried to think of something witty to reply with, but then his lips met yours once more and rendered words unnecessary.

***

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the-west-meadow · 2 years ago

Text

Normal People

Lukas Matsson x (fem)Reader, Roman Roy x (fem)Reader

word count: 3k - read on Ao3 here!

NFSW: 18+ ONLY

You first met him at Kendall’s birthday party.

Roman was being obnoxious. All he could talk about was finding Lukas Matsson. He and Shiv were relentless in their pursuit of the man. It was all business, no pleasure tonight. So while Roman and Shiv stood with their heads together, compulsively sipping vodka tonics, you slipped away unnoticed to try and have some fun before the night was over.

You found your way upstairs, where for some inexplicable reason Kendall had built a replica of his childhood treehouse. The inside was bustling with people yet the two buff men outside wouldn’t let you enter without an armband. Dejected, you started to turn away, when you heard Kendall’s voice from above.

“Hey! Let her through, she’s cool!”

He was pointing right at you with a grin. The guards moved aside, letting you in.

Upstairs, Kendall greeted you with a hug.

“Nice treehouse,” you said.

“Thanks. It’s pretty infantile, right? Sort of the vibe I was going for.”

“Definitely. You nailed it.”

“Hey, I need a favor while you’re here. See that guy over there?”

He nodded over his shoulder to a tall blonde Scandinavian-looking man slouching alone in a plush leather chair.

“Who is that?”

“That’s Lukas Matsson. He’s pretty disgruntled and I need someone to keep him from wandering. I can’t do it anymore, I need to mingle. Also, Roman cannot know he’s here.”

“Roman’s entire purpose in life tonight is to find that guy.”

“Please don’t tell him he’s here. I’ll owe you one. Seriously.

“Don’t worry. Roman’s driving me fucking crazy at the moment.”

“Amazing. You’re amazing. Let me get you a drink and I’ll introduce you.”

Kendall stepped away. You glanced curiously in Lukas’s direction. He glanced up from his phone, met your eyes, and did a double take. He stared at you for a long moment across the room.

Kendall returned with your drink, breaking your gaze.

“Let’s go. You’re about to meet one of the weirdest rich guys out there.”

Drinks in hand, you approached the man. He kept his eyes fixed on yours.

“Yo, Lukas. Meet my good friend Y/N. I promise she’s not going to network you to death.”

Kendall clapped him on the shoulder.

“You guys have fun.”

You thought you saw Kendall wink, but it was too quick, and then he was gone.

“Kendall thinks I need a babysitter tonight,” Lukas said. “Too many sharks in the water.”

“Thankfully I don’t have any interest in what Kendall and his family does. I’m just along for the ride.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a writer.”

“What do you write?”

“Words, mostly.”

Lukas cracked the smallest grin.

“Is that, like, meaningful for you?” he asked.

“I don’t really care if it has meaning or not. Mostly it keeps me entertained.”

“Cheers to that.”

He raised his beer bottle and clinked it against your glass of gin and tonic.

“So you know all of the Roy siblings?” Lukas said.

“Too well.”

“Which one’s your favorite?”

“Do I have to have a favorite?”

“It’ll say a lot about you. I’m still figuring out who I’m talking to here.”

You considered briefly.

“I think I relate to Kendall the most.”

“Daddy issues?”

You laughed. “I’m not going there. But if I had to pick a favorite… Roman is the most fun to be around.”

“So you like fun.”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t relate to what most people think of as fun.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Partying. Getting drunk. Rollercoasters.”

You burst out laughing.

“What?” he said.

“Rollercoasters?”

“People find them fun, right? You tell me. What’s fun to you?”

“Not rollercoasters.”

Lukas considered you with a curious, calculating look.

“I’m starting to think you’re not a normal person,” he said.

“I could tell you weren’t normal the second I looked over here.”

You gave him a sly smile. He set his beer down and folded his hands in his lap.

“I’ve got to get out of this treehouse,” he said.

“You don’t think the treehouse is fun?”

“I’d like to find out what your idea of fun is. You still haven’t told me.”

You gazed at him for a long moment. Then you heard an all-too-familiar voice over your shoulder.

“There you are. Both of you.”

Roman was leaning over you with his hands on the back of your chair.

“This is a weird pairing. What are you guys even talking about?”

“Rollercoasters,” Lukas said.

You smiled, catching his eye once more before you stood.

“I’ll let you guys talk.”

“I’ll see you later, though, yeah?” Roman called. You glanced at Lukas, who had put everything together in an instant.

“If you can find me,” you said as you left.

When you glanced back over your shoulder, Lukas was staring at his phone again and Roman was sitting cross-legged in your chair, trying unsuccessfully to get his attention.

Not long after, you found yourself in Italy, lying poolside beneath the mild northern sun. Eyes closed, you felt a shadow pass over your vision and cracked your eyes open. Roman sat in the neighboring beach chair, squinting in the light.

“I forgot how much I hated the sun.”

He leaned back uncomfortably in the chair.

“So, I have a mission for you. For both of us.”

“What?”

“Guess who lives right across the lake.”

“Who? Stop making me ask questions.”

“Our old buddy Lukas Matsson.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Who?”

Roman grinned.

“You know who. You’re literally blushing.”

“It’s the sun.”

“I know you’ve been wondering how big his dick is.”

“Roman, what the fuck?”

“Hey, it’s fine. I mean, you still haven’t seen mine. It’s only healthy to think about other men’s dicks every now and then.”

“Jesus…”

“Look, seriously. I need your help. I have to convince him to make this deal. But I don’t think he likes me all that much. If you’re there, maybe he’ll perk up enough to listen to me. I mean, the man’s practically comatose.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I need you to get him a little hard, metaphorically speaking. He’ll want to show off his big dick in front of you by making this deal.”

“Stop saying ‘dick’. This is sounding really fucking weird.”

“Like I’m trying to whore you out to him?”

“Yeah. Exactly that.”

“Come on. You don’t have to do anything. Unless, you know, you want to.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. You gave a sigh.

“When are you leaving?”

“Soon. Now, actually. Can you put some clothes on? The bikini might be overkill.”

“God dammit, Roman.”

You stood up and grabbed the towel from the back of your chair. He grabbed your hand gently.

“Hey.”

You paused, gazing down at him, the quirky smile flashing, eyes obscured behind his dark sunglasses.

“You’re my secret weapon.”

You were on the boat less than half an hour later, speeding across Lake Como in the warm air.

“That’s his place,” Roman said, indicating the approaching villa. Tall cypress trees swayed in the lake breeze, revealing a stuccoed exterior and red tile roof. A hidden paradise nestled at the foot of the Alps.

“You’re shitting me.”

Roman grinned.

Lukas was waiting for you on the dock. He was barefoot, in a black t-shirt and white linen pants. His dark blue eyes glinted in the light reflecting off the lake.

Roman disembarked first, turning to lend you a hand. You felt Lukas watching the two of you.

"There you are, you tall motherfucker," Roman said, stepping forward to greet him. He shook Roman’s hand, then turned his gaze to you.

“You remember Y/N, right?” Roman said. “I think I interrupted your little party in the treehouse.”

“So you two are together?”

“Well, we haven’t fucked yet if that’s what you mean,” Roman said.

Lukas glanced at you. You rolled your eyes discreetly.

“I feel like I shouldn’t ask,” Lukas said.

“Oh, it’s all me. Not her fault.”

Lukas led the two of you to a patio shaded from the sun. His property was quiet, beautiful, secluded. It was strange to imagine him padding around the villa in his bare feet, alone. He reclined on a wicker sofa while you took a seat nearby.

Roman was looking at his phone, suddenly serious.

“What is it?” you said.

“I gotta take this. Sorry, guys.”

He stepped away, leaving you alone with Lukas. He reclined on a beige sofa, glancing at you with his hands folded in his lap.

“I was wondering if I’d see you again,” he said. “Where did we leave off?”

“I don’t remember. It was a long night.”

“When you said Roman was your favorite, I didn’t realize why.”

“It’s pretty complicated.”

“Sounds like it.” Lukas paused. “You guys really haven’t fucked?”

“It’s just… not like that. I know it sounds weird.”

“How long have you been together?”

“About a year.”

He let out a low whistle.

“So does that mean… I mean, are you guys exclusive?”

“So far. Yeah.”

You gazed at each other silently. Roman returned, phone in hand.

“Hey guys, I gotta run. But I’ll be back. Is it cool if she stays?”

“It’s fine,” Lukas said. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just family stuff. Kendall,” he added, glancing at you.

You nodded, unable to tell if he was bluffing or not.

“Try not to talk business without me,” Roman said. He turned and jogged back towards the dock. You heard the boat engine start as he sped off across the lake.

“Fun,” Lukas said.

You looked at him in confusion.

“We were talking about fun.”

He was gazing at you, broad shoulders in the dappled sunlight, his eyes calm.

“Do you want to see the rest of the house?”

You followed him inside, bare feet on the cool terracotta floor, a warm breeze moving through the open rooms. The villa was exquisitely decorated, a blend of modern art and traditional Italian motifs. Green and gold curtains, plush beige sofas, a gleaming oak dining table.

“You live alone?”

“Yeah. To be honest, I don’t like living with other people.”

“I know what you mean.”

“You and Roman don’t live together?

“Let’s stop talking about Roman.”

You paused in the doorway of a bedroom that opened onto a patio overlooking the lake. The sheer curtains lifted in the breeze. You felt Lukas glance at you.

“The downstairs is all for show. I live upstairs. Do you want to see?”

The upstairs was a loft with exposed beams and skylights. In contrast to the overblown downstairs decoration, everything here was black, white, grey. This was where Lukas’s preference for Scandinavian minimalism became apparent. He was so tall that he had to stoop in certain places. You peered into his office, sparsely decorated with a wooden desk, MacBook and high-end stereo system.

“This is where I get my thinking done. I really don’t like having visitors in general. Present company excepted.”

His bedroom was adjacent to the office. Again you lingered in the doorway, hesitant to enter his private quarters. He leaned on the doorframe across from you and folded his arms. He looked straight at you.

“So,” he said.

“So...?”

“Kendall’s birthday party. I had every intention of inviting you back to my room.”

“Roman ruined your plans, huh?”

“Pretty much. But then he brought you here.”

You went silent, gazing back at him. The blonde stubble, heavy brow, hard blue eyes. Something in him both frightening and compelling. Impenetrable but vulnerable. He was tan from the summer sun, calm and cool. He seemed curious to see what your next move would be. And he was willing to wait you out.

You meandered into the bedroom, glancing around at his possessions. A shelf full of books: classics, modern novels, books on tech. A stray pair of headphones. A solitary person’s existence.

He followed you in, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. You turned around to face him.

“Roman brought me here to help make the deal for his dad,” you said.

“I know that. I don’t care. I’ve already made my decision.”

“Okay.”

You stepped up to him, feet nearly touching. He watched you with the faint smile of someone who has been alone for a long time observing a newcomer in their space.

“Let’s not fuck around any longer,” he whispered.

Almost before he had finished speaking, you leaned down to kiss him. He kissed you back, long, deep kisses, like he had missed you intensely in your brief, inexplicable absence from his life. His hands slid up your back. You sank onto his lap, straddling him as his hands moved lower, exploring your unfamiliar form.

You ran your hands through his hair, along the back of his neck, across his broad shoulders. You slid your hands beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt, feeling his toned arms. You kissed his neck, the sound of his rasping breath in your ear.

“Did you think of me at all?” he whispered.

“I couldn’t stop,” you breathed.

You felt a throb as he grew harder beneath you. You pushed him back onto the bed and ground against him as he swiftly unbuttoned your shirt then shed his own. He pulled you down against him, kissing your neck, your shoulders, his stubble brushing your skin.

“You really haven’t been fucked in a year?”

You shook your head, gasping at his touch, unable to speak.

“Time to change that.”

He deftly changed positions with you, so that you were lying half-dressed beneath him. Now you had a full view of him, his bare torso, ruffled blonde hair, the intensity in his eyes. He unzipped his pants and slid out of them.

“Oh my god,” you said, unable to stop yourself. Lukas grinned, breathless.

“What?”

“You’re fucking huge.”

He tugged your pants off, gripping his cock, and without any further delay, slid swiftly into you.

You let out a long, vocal moan. It had been too long. Everything in you had been aching for him. He watched your every reaction, the slight grin on his face, his eyes glittering. You bucked against him, running your hands over his lean body as he slowly, firmly pounded into you. You gripped his forearm for dear life.

“Fuck, Lukas”

“Yeah? Is that good?”

You groaned in response as he leaned into you, his hot, sticky skin against yours, running along the length of your body with his bulk. He gripped your wrists, pinning you lightly as he pulsed in and out of you. You sank your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder, and he held you down harder.

“You feel like you want to come,” he murmured.

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re so fucking wet.”

You dug your fingers into his back, feeling your entire body tense up.

“It’s been so long. You’re ready to fucking burst.”

He slid his thumb into your mouth and you bit down on it. There were starbursts behind your eyes. His voice in your ear.

“There you go. Let me hear you. I want to hear you.”

That was it. You let go, back arched, thighs tensed, warmth spreading across your body as you let out a half-moan, half-scream. You heard Lukas groan and stiffen, his hand twined in your hair.

You stayed like that for a long moment, breathing into each other’s mouths. Finally he rolled off of you, shining with a light cover of sweat. You lay side by side, recovering.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

“Is that what you wanted?”

“Fuck yes.”

You felt his fingers brush along your forearm. He was gazing at you from his pillow.

“You can come closer. If you want.”

You gladly complied, feeling his arm encircle you as you found a place against his chest. Your eyes traced his unfamiliar body. A tuft of blonde chest hair, a scar below his ribcage, a small birthmark near the belly button. But you didn’t touch him further. This was still new, the boundaries not yet established. Perhaps Lukas didn’t want to be touched in a tender, loving way. Perhaps you didn’t either.

“I wish we had more time,” he murmured. “There’s a lot more I want to do with you.”

“I was very pent-up,” you said, half-apologizing.

“No, it’s fine. It’s good when it’s fast sometimes. Plus I’m not great at seductive gestures.”

“This is only the second time we've met and you made me come. That just doesn’t happen.”

He gave a slight laugh, a low sound deep in his chest. He stroked your shoulder with his thumb briefly.

“I mean I’m not a normal person. Some things people want from me, I just can’t give them.”

“You’re talking to someone who’s been dating Roman Roy for a year and a half. I go without a lot of things.”

You gazed down his body, his skin soft and tan in the natural light.

“Plus, there’s probably a lot I can’t give you,” you murmured. “Remember, I’m not normal either.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want normal. I get bored easily.”

From the open window, you could hear the sound of the lake lapping against the shore. Then, growing in the distance, the high whine of a motor.

“Well,” said Lukas with a note of finality.

“What do we do?”

He turned on his side, looking straight at you again with that penetrating gaze.

“I think we need to see each other again,” he said.

“Okay.”

Without another word, he sat up, sliding into his pants. You savored the sight of his torso as he pulled on his shirt. You dressed quickly then met him in the doorway, where you paused. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, then leaned down and kissed you once, warm and deep. He held your eyes for a long moment. He looked like he was about to say something, but instead he smiled slightly to himself and started down the stairs. You followed, eyes lingering on the back of his neck, his shoulders.

Roman met you on the green lawn. His hair and clothes were windblown and disheveled but he was grinning.

“Hey kids. Have fun without me?”

“Just showing her around the property.”

“I bet you did. Hey, I know it was shitty for me to run out like that, so if you want to talk about the deal another time, we’ll get out of your hair.”

“We don’t need to talk about it. I want to do it.”

Roman raised his eyebrows. “Well, shit. Are you sure, man?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. I’m sure.”

Roman grabbed his hand and shook it with a grin. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“I guess we will.”

Lukas’s eyes flashed in your direction. You smiled slightly and looked away.

On the boat ride back, Roman was strangely silent. He had a secretive grin on his face and his eyes were obscured behind his dark glasses. Then he unexpectedly turned to you, grabbed your face between his hands, and kissed you on the mouth.

“It worked. It fucking worked.”

He held your hand the rest of the way back to his mother’s villa. It was the first time in a year and a half of dating that he had done so.

#i did a thing #lukas matsson x reader #lukas matsson/reader #succession #lukas matsson #roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy/reader #alexander skarsgard

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andreafmn · 5 months ago

Text

Collision | Chapter 28

Word Count: 3.0K

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N: okay so i fell in love with the house I used to base the cullen home in Ithaca... all i need is $3 million 😅

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The time that had passed between (Y/N) debating speaking with Esme and getting on a plane with her and Theo had been less than half a day, and yet it had felt like a week had already gone by. Her energy had been completely drained from both confrontations she’d had that afternoon.

She had learned betrayal from every person she loved and trusted, all at various degrees of hurt. Granted, she should have been used to it. After her own father had disappeared from her life, it seemed everyone else had decided that hurting her would be the norm, and they all had taken perfectly to their task.

The second (Y/N) finally sat on her plane seat realization dawned upon her. She was crossing the country to save the man who had decided her heart wasn’t worth love and care. All because she knew she would never be able to live with herself if she ever treated Carlisle like he had treated her.

The girl wanted to burst out laughing, for fear that if she started crying again, she wouldn’t stop. Well, if she thought much about the situation she was in, she knew she would cry. Instead, she turned her attention to anything but that.

“So, you and Esme, huh,” she whispered toward Theo, nudging her softly with her elbow. “You two seem to have been getting close.”

“Oh, um, w-well, we’ve just been working together,” Theo stammered. “For Carlisle, you know?”

“Right,” (Y/N) grinned. “So, that means that those googly eyes and lingering touches are all part of the plan, right? Good to know. Will I be getting any of that treatment?”

“So, you saw that, huh?”

“It’s not like you were very discreet about it,” she teased. “I’ve also grown to know that look very well.”

(Y/N) knew if Theo could, her face would have grown red already. Although Esme was a few rows in front, there was no doubt she could hear them had they spoken just a decibel higher than they were.

“God, I can’t really lie about that,” the vampire sighed, rubbing her eyes in frustration. “I do. I like her. A lot. Way more than I’ve ever liked someone before.”

“Then why don’t you tell her? It’s not like you have anything to lose.”

“Come on,” she chuckled. “Why would she ever be interested in someone like me? I’m nothing special.”

“Seriously, Theo? You cannot believe that,” (Y/N) said. “Just the fact that you’re an immortal being with powers makes you special enough. And that’s the least interesting thing about you. You’re extremely intelligent, you’re funny, you’re caring—you’re honestly a great catch.”

“Yeah, but so is she. So, what am I bringing to the table?”

“Love, respect, loyalty, kindness… I mean, what else can you ask for, really. It’s not a pageant, Theo. There are no shoes to fill here.”

Only silence came from the vampire as she thought over her friend’s words. Her eyes darted to the pale woman three rows in front of them whose nose was stuck in a book, headphones over her ears. For someone so fearless, who had lived a century and some change, and had faced a multitude of obstacles and dangers, confessing her feelings to someone was the scariest thing she had come across.

“When did you know?” (Y/N) broke Theo out of her thoughts. “That you, uh, well, that you liked girls.”

“Question for the ages, isn’t it?” Theo chuckled softly, thankful to drift her mind away from the brunette a few rows down. “Is it too cliché if I said I always knew?”

“Of course not.”

“Back in my time—and many years after that too— I would have been killed just for looking at a woman for too long,” she said. “After, I would have been locked in a mental asylum and left to rot. If I had not been a vampire, I would have been dead for who I loved a long time ago. “Restricting myself for years made it hard for me to allow myself to feel for another woman,” Theo continued. “Not only did I have to hide the fact that I was a vampire, but I had to deny the most human of feelings. Then again, I haven’t been a human longer than everyone on this plane has been alive. So, yeah, I have always known the kind of person I can love, but I’ve never been allowed the right to.”

A small trickle of tears had started falling down (Y/N)’s right eye, warming her cheek as it did. The only reason she had been judged and chastised over who she loved was because he was a vampire, which had nothing to do with the fact he was a man. She couldn’t fathom having to live avoiding love all out of fear someone who couldn’t stand the sight of it would react.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to make you cry, (Y/N),” Theodora cooed, wiping away the tears with her cold hand. “It’s just how things are. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be,” (Y/N) sniffled. “How could loving someone be a bad thing? I mean, even Christians should understand that—the bible tells as much. “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.” I just can’t understand why others seem so concerned about everyone’s life but their own.”

“I’m guessing there’s more to the story here than just gay rights, (Y/N),” Theo inquired. “What’s going on?”

“I veered off topic there at the end, didn’t I?” the girl sighed. “Sam and Paul admitted to throwing away your letters. They say it was to protect me, but they just didn’t want me to have any relation to your kind.”

“What?” Theo mused. “Lesbians?”

“Come on,” (Y/N) laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“Your brother was probably doing what he thought was best. It’s his job to protect humans from people like me,” the vampire reasoned. “I’m not saying it was right, nor that you shouldn’t be angry. But it must be hard juggling his sister being around his mortal enemy and being your brother.”

(Y/N) threw her head back in frustration, knowing the viridity of her friend’s words. There wasn’t a right or wrong way to handle things—if there was, she hadn’t read those rules yet. Everyone was simply going around, hoping the decisions they make don’t affect those around them. And if they did, that the damage wasn’t permanent.

Yet, it didn’t alleviate the anger that had built inside her. (Y/N) felt no one trusted her judgment. Even worse, that they didn’t believe her to be capable of making good decisions. It seemed everyone had written her off as a secondary character in her own story—nothing she wanted was the right thing. She hadn’t even been given the choice to be with the man she had grown to love.

Somewhere along the five and a half hours it took to cross the country, (Y/N)’s eyes had drifted shit. When she woke, the plane was landing on the tarmac, and the pilot was welcoming his passengers to Ithaca, New York. From there, it would be a three-hour ride to where Theo believed Carlisle had gone. But Esme thought it would be best to stop by their residence so (Y/N) could have a little rest.

It was the first time (Y/N) had been on that side of the country, and for the first time, she understood the allure of the east coast. Of course, they weren’t exactly situated in the center of New York City. There weren’t the bright lights and grandeur of the big city, but there was a stark contrast to the town she was born and raised in.

As they drove down the streets of Ithaca, (Y/N)’s chest started to wrench. That was the place she would have moved to had Carlisle given her the choice to. She could see herself walking down through the town, she could pinpoint the coffee shop she would frequent before or after work, she could imagine herself taking a weekend stroll through the shops or even the farmer’s market that happened every two Sundays. She could see the life she might’ve had. The life she never would—at least not with him.

The Cullen house in Ithaca was nothing short of magnificent, not that she expected anything less. The first thing she was met with was a big gate leading to an even bigger driveway. Unlike their home in Forks, this one felt like an estate. It truly was an architectural wonder. From the front garden to the stone walls and opulent height, the house was a sight to behold—a four-floor wonder hidden by the trees of Ithaca.

“Carlisle had this built back in the 20s,” Esme commented as she unloaded their bags from the car. “I think it was a year or two after I was turned. But we didn’t live here until after we left Forks for the first time. I think it’s my favorite of all the houses.”

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) muttered. “Very different to the house in Forks.”

“Well, it’s kept its old-timey charm,” she chuckled. “There’s a little over seven acres of land, which helps with maintaining the privacy the family needs. I wish we were here in different circumstances. I really think you would like this place.”

As though she could read her mind, Theo was quick to change the topic. “Why don’t you go in and freshen up?” she told (Y/N). “We’ll go and get you some food in the meantime. Still a fan of burgers?”

“Yeah,” the girl smiled weakly. “No onions…”

“And no pickles,” Theo added. “We’ll be right back.”

(Y/N) was left by herself in the house, and she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. Everywhere she turned, there was a picture of the family or an award one of them had won at a given point in their lives. There was nowhere she could go where she wouldn’t be reminded of who the house belonged to.

Instead of choosing a room to lie down in, the girl decided to explore. She opened door after door, her eyes running through every surface she could find. Ever room was different, but a perfect example of every single of the Cullens that normally inhabited the house. There was a clear distinction behind every door she opened, there was no way she could mistake who the area belonged to.

But it was the last door she opened that took her aback.

It wasn’t a bedroom, unlike the other ones she’d opened. That one was an office filled from floor to ceiling with books. A beautiful oak desk lived in the middle of the room paired with a black leather office chair. It was undoubtedly Carlisle’s room.

And if there was any doubt that it was the older vampire’s office, a particular picture on the desk only cemented the premise.

She could remember the exact moment the picture had been taken. Three days before her entire life changed. Alice had made sure to document everything about Bella’s birthday, taking picture after picture of anything she could think of. It seemed one of those things had been a moment (Y/N) and Carlisle spent apart from the family. They had only been talking, but that wasn’t what the picture captured. It was the absolute look of love in their shared gaze that stood out from the image. A radiant gleam that had washed over them and seemed to radiate from the still. A beautiful moment frozen in time that seemed like a lifetime ago.

(Y/N) took the frame in her hands as she sat on the floor, running her fingers across the glass as though she could relive that moment with just a single touch. Every emotion surged from deep inside her and erupted in another stream of tears she didn’t want to fall. She had cried more in those last six months than she’d had her entire life. And though she was tired of it, she couldn’t seem to stop.

She wanted the feeling in that photo back. The smile she wore and the glint in her eyes, the glow of being in love and being loved. She wanted to be that happy once more. A part of her would always want that with Carlisle. But there was another side, albeit a small one, that told her life went on and she could have that with someone else.

Suddenly, the ringing of her phone made the frame in her hands stumble to the ground. After seeing that the glass was unharmed, she pulled the device out of her pocket and clicked the green button.

“Hey, you get there okay?”

“Hi, Eden,” she said as she let out a breath of relief. “Yeah. We got here about an hour ago. Just settled into the house. We still have a bit more traveling to do tomorrow.”

“You must be exhausted,” he said. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Uh, my friends went out to get some food, but I’m honestly not that hungry. I’m just tired, you know? And it’s not sleep I need,” the girl sighed. “I just want this to be over with already.”

“Think of it this way: it will only take a couple of days before you can pass the page and get on for the rest of your life. You can do a couple of days, right?”

“I have to,” she chuckled. “I’m already here.”

“You’re stronger than most, (Y/N),” Eden muttered. “You’ll come out of this better than ever.”

“I wish I had your conviction, but I can’t help but wonder if I’m still doing the right thing.”

“Wanna know what I think?”

“More than anything.”

“I think you know you’re doing the right thing, but you’re looking for an excuse to think it isn’t,” he said. “I think you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you didn’t help this guy, regardless of what he did to you. Because that’s who you are, and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s what makes you a great person.”

(Y/N) pulled her knees to her chest as she listened to Arden’s words. He spoke so surely it was as though he had known her all her life. He’d told her what she needed to hear and more. She had shown her there was someone else who had been able to look into her soul. “Thanks, Eden,” she smiled. “You have no idea how much those words mean to me.”

“I’m only saying what I believe,” he said. “I know it might be surprising given how I acted those first couple of months, but after giving myself the chance to get to know you, I can tell you’re an incredible person.”

“You sound so sure,” she chuckled. “We’ve only been properly acquainted for almost a month.”

“Doesn’t take much time to be impressed by you,” Eden admitted. “And I can honestly say that. You’re amazing, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) found it hard to accept the compliment, especially coming from him. His words made her heart hammer against her chest, and her cheeks grew red and warm. She took a moment to think of her next words, thankful that he wasn’t standing before her. And as if by divine intervention, from a distance, she heard the front door open and two voices following behind. “Uh, so, my friends just came back.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks for calling, Eden,” (Y/N) smiled. “I’ll let you know when I get back home.”

“Alright, sounds like a plan,” he said. “Be safe, (Y/N).”

“I will. Bye, Eden.”

With a reciprocated goodbye, (Y/N) put her phone back into her pocket. She wiped away her tears and placed the photo frame back on the desk, making sure nothing looked amiss. Just as she had entered, the girl left the office to join the vampires in the kitchen.

“So, we got you a burger and fries,” Theo said as she pulled the items from the bag onto the kitchen counter. “We also got you some drinks and snacks in case you get hungry during the night.”

“We want to try and be out of here as early as possible tomorrow morning,” Esme added. “But no pressure. You can sleep for as long as you need.”

“Thanks, guys,” (Y/N) smiled. “You didn’t have to do all this. I would have been fine with just the burger.”

“Well, it’s mostly for us,” Theo shrugged. “Made me feel human for a second to go around buying food. Makes me want to go grocery shopping just for fun.”

“It is fun,” Esme chimed. “Granted, we’re not limited to allergies, diets, or money. Could not imagine being a human again and being betrayed by your stomach.”

“Well, as a human that is not betrayed by my stomach, I will agree it can be fun,” the girl chuckled softly. “What’s not as fun is having to feed yourself every day and cook most days.”

“That’s true, I guess,” Theo agreed. “It’s easier when your choices are just whatever wildlife you encounter, and we don’t even have to cook it.”

If either of them noticed that (Y/N) had been crying, they didn’t make any mention of it. Instead, they asked if the burger was good and if she had found a room to rest in for the night. For a moment, the three women weren’t on a stop to save Carlisle. For a split second, it felt like three friends who had decided to take a weekend trip to New York. They were able to talk and laugh about nothing and everything.

They spent the rest of the night in front of the fireplace, dancing around what they would have to do the following day, instead preferring the normalcy of their encounter. Even though Carlisle was still very present in the back of their minds, they allowed themselves that one night just to be friends. They all knew it would most likely be the last time they would be able to be that close.

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