#I guess warning for a strong/loud start...when I say this goes hard I mean it goes hard

[bleaksqueak]

How how how does this still go as hard as it goes AND WITH THAT ALBUM COVER.

[watsittoyah]

Before The Snow, Came The Flame…

Young!Coriolanus snow x blk fem!reader

Theme: Morally gray themes, talks of suicide, heavy sexual content. Possessive/Obsessive behavior. This is pure fiction and should only be consumed as such…

Chapter 00 Just Say Yes…

(Sexual Act 1- Oral sex, and breathe play )

Evangeline-

I’ve always hated the snow, because when snow comes, that means death to nature. The pretty flowers wither away, the warm air turns cold and crisp, and the animals become scarce. But the one thing I hate the most about snow is when it falls it brings death to the living.

“Do you think they’ll find out about us still existing? The Capital, I mean.” Johnathan my half-brother asks me as we trek across the frosted ground. “It’s been what ten years? I highly doubt anyone other than Nana-Bee remembers. Besides don’t you think they would’ve came for us by now?” I tell him as I lift a thick branch, letting him pass. I soon after follow and I see some pine cones. I gather them and hear Johnathan give a sigh.

“I guess you’re right. And it is for the best that no one knows. It’s already sad that we can’t walk around without people staring. But you’re lucky Evangeline. Your eyes are only yellow sometimes. I wish I could do that.” I ruffle his curly hair and give a laugh. “Nana-Bee taught me. I’m sure she’ll teach you when you’re older.” He rolls his golden eyes at me and as I’m sure he’s about to give me some snarky remark on why our great-great grandmama won’t be teaching him color changing, we hear a loud-

Snap!

We immediately freeze in place. I sign to him to hide but he shakes his head and signs back that he’s not leaving me.

As much as I love this kid, I’m sure he’s going to get me killed one day. I go to sign something else but I see something in the distance and I yank Jonathan down just in time to feel something whiz past my ear. The tree explodes into small splinters.

“Suis-moi.” I order him. He follows me without hesitation as we stay low.

I feel my heart pounding in my throat all because our father had warned us to keep watch for outsiders. Whether they were Peace Keepers or just people from surround districts. If they see us, they will take us and sell us to the capital.

Even though our existence is close to a secret now, there are still older people who remember us. Children of fire, is what they’d call us now, which is a better name than being called Morningstar children.

Another bullet whizzes past my head but unluckily for Johnathan it hits him in the shoulder.

I go to help him but he pushes me back and hisses for me to hide. “N-“ A gun sounds off and I just throw myself up into a near by tree. I use the leaves to keep me hidden and watch over Jonathan as he writhes in pain.

“It’s not a deer! It’s a…kid?” A large lunk of a man looks at my brother and he knees down. “Geez sorry kid, but wait wasn’t there two of you?” The man looks up into the trees and Johnathan bites the man on the ankle.

He lets out a yelp and he takes the butt of his gun and hits my brother in his face which makes the flames in my fingertips ignite.

I leap out of the tree and when I land, I push him hard into the ground and I grab at his face. He yells as I start to dig my nails into his eyes. “Evangeline, let him go.” I hear Jonathan hiss as he yanks at my blouse. “I’ll go when he’s dead!” I snap at him.

“You crazy bitch!” The man yells and with a swift punch I hit in his nose. He goes limp for a second and I get up feeling my hands getting hot.

“Evangeline calm down, please. We need to go.” He yanks at me again and as we start to run, a strong grip yanks me down. “Eva-” I push Jonathan forward and yell for him to run. I see the hesitation for a split second but he doesn’t what he’s told. He has an injury he needs to take care of.

The man yanks me down and I hit the ground hard. He looks down at me with such hate in his eyes and I smirk at him. “Fuck y-” I feel his boot hit the side of my head hard and I soon feel the darkness take over.

Coriolanus-

“Hey! I got something!” Bugs and I turn back around and head towards Duke, who had a body slung over his shoulder. Which was odd because he said that he was chasing after a deer.

He has turned and we saw that it was a woman. Her black locs were long and covering her face. However there was a long white stripe in the tangled mass of black.

“Why do you have an unconscious girl with you?” Bugs asks as Duke puts the passed out girl down and cuffs her wrists as well as put a blind fold over her eyes.

“At first I thought her and that fucking kid she was with were animals just by how they were moving. But that’s my fault from the stories my great grandparents told me, I should have known they were Morningstar children.” I give Bugs a look and he shrugs. “I don’t know Coryo.”

Duke throws his hands in the air in frustration. “Don’t tell me you never heard of Morningstar children.”

“No, what the hell are you talking about?” I ask feeling annoyed as I eyed the unconscious girl. “My great grandparents told me about these people. They’re demons in human form. They can set a flame to anything even ash. However if you were to capture one them, they can grant you the key to heaven. So that even if you were the greatest sinner, when you die you will still make it to the pearly gates. But you have to make them give their loyalty to you or else they will turn on you like a rabid dog.”

“Wait, how is she…a demon in human form she looks like a regular girl to me.” Bugs asks as he kneels close to her. Duke yanks him away from her.

“There are a few signs, if it’s a woman, they have a bewitching scent that makes men turn lustful.”

“That sounds like shit.” I interrupt. Duke just waves me off. “But all of them, they have this hair as black as night and a singular while strand of hair. It’s like their birthmark. But the number one thing that gives them away are the various color of yellow in their eyes. They say when you look at them you can see the pits of hell in them.” I look over at the girl and notice her breathing is steady.

To the untrained you’d think she was sleeping but I know better. She’s pretending. I use to do that as a child when I didn’t want to go to bed but my parents had checked to make sure I was asleep. I keep my eyes trained on her as I hear Duke and Bugs bickering.

“It all sounds like a bunch of bullshit. Besides this girl has a family that’s going to come looking for her. Just let her go and we can pretend that we never seen her.” Bugs says as he walks over towards the girl.

Duke side steps him, blocking his path. “Do you not understand what we have here? We have the key to damnation. I know someone in the capital would pay big bucks for her. I’m not giving her back.”

“Duke you sound so idiotic. Coryo, please talk some sense into him. This girl needs to go hom-” I raise a hand and see the girl stir.

“What’s wrong?” Bugs asks as he walks over. Instead of answering I reach over her but Duke yanks my arm back. I send a glare his way and his grip loosens on my arm. I then remove the blindfold from her face and I lock onto a pair a dark brown eyes. They looked wild, angry and beautiful all at the same time.

When she locked her eyes onto me I kneeled there in front of her frozen. Because I was captivated by her. If she had a proper bath and clothes, she’d be more beautiful than any rose I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

When she speaks, I can hear an accent that I can’t quite place. “Please let me go, I didn’t do anything.” The girl pleads to us.

“I’m letting her go, her eyes aren’t yellow, she’s just scared.” Bugs went to take the cuff off of her but Duke moved in and grabbed the girl by her face and pinned her to the tree behind her.

“Hey!” Bugs and I both yell in unison. “I know what I saw, and I know what you did. Stop lying! And how did you change the color of your eyes? I saw hell in them! Tell me how, before I snap your neck! Don’t make me look like a liar!” He yelled as his hand squeezes around her throat.

I quickly pick up my gun and I aim it at Duke. Feeling that if I don’t threaten him he might just break her. “Let the girl go or I will make a mess out of you.” I say calmly as I cock the gun. He gives me a glance and smirks.

“I don’t know what witch craft she’s pulling but I’m not letting this golden goose out of my sight. I’ll let her go but she comes with us.”

“Hey if you can prove she’s a Morningstar child or whatever then we will figure something out later but if she’s not one then we need to find her people and give her back. Deal?” Bugs comments trying to de-escalate the whole situation.

Duke lets her throat go and she sucks in a mouth full of air as she collapses onto the ground. “Fine, but I know what I saw.” Duke snaps as he moves back.

I don’t lower the gun until he’s several feet from her. When I see it’s somewhat safe for her, I kneel down in front of her and she jerks back from me. I move the gun and raise my hands to let her know I’m not going to hurt her. “You’re safe, I promise.” She glares past me and I know she’s glaring at Duke.

“What’s your name?” I ask her so she can focus on me. “Evangeline.” She answers as she keeps her eyes on Duke. “Evangeline, hey I will do my best to take care of you while you’re in my care. Duke won’t touch you again. You have my word.” She slowly puts her brown eyes on me and I see a flicker of something.

Gold? Maybe an amber color? The flicker leaves her eyes and all I see is brown.

“I want to go home.” She tells me as her brown eyes stare deep into mine. “You’ll go home soon.” I tell her as I find my hand moving closer to her small brown face.

I move the long white loc out of her eyes and right there in that moment, I knew she was going to be my little rose. She had thorns, that was clear to see but past the danger, there was something more. Something I wanted to…possess.

Evangeline-

Several days later…

The smell of snow was in the air and it was foul. People will tell you it doesn’t have a smell, but they’re lying. It smells overly sweet and it smells like death.

I wonder if Nana-Bee and Papa know that I’m here. Maybe Jonathan told them…

I hope his wounds are healing.

When I get the chance, I’m going to beat Duke’s skull until the bone marrow is not longer recognizable.

I smirk at the thought as I swirl my finger around the ice in my cup. “I wonder if his body will twitch when I do it?” I mutter as I place the cup down and stare at the iron bars of my cell.

I duck my head down as I hear footsteps approaching. “Are you hungry?” I hear a voice call out to me. I lift my head up and my eyes meet a pair of baby blue diamonds. “All depends, can I take that meal to go?” I answer him as I stand on my feet and walk close to the bars. He gives me a gentle smile.

“You know I would let you go in a heartbeat but-”

“But the people here are convinced that I am a peculiar woman. I’ve proven that I’m not. I’ve touched these iron bars, and my skin hasn’t burned. I’ve let my feet touch salt and my soul hasn’t been damned. I’m innocent and you know that Coriolanus.” I tell him. He gives me a stern sigh.

“Duke still isn’t convinced. He still thinks you’re lying.” I throw my hands in the air. “Because of my eyes? My not yellow but boring brown eyes?”

“I don’t think your eyes are boring.” Coriolanus comments making me narrow my eyes at him. “Are you flirting with me, Coriolanus?” He shakes his head and gives me a smirk. “Why would I flirt with a devilish woman such as yourself?”

There it is, the electricity in the air between us. I don’t know when this flirtatious banter had started, maybe on the second day? But I’ve notice the special attention Coriolanus gives me.

He always gives me extra food. He makes sure I get to some time to stretch my legs when no one is looking. To anyone else he would seem endearing.

But his blue eyes hold something cold in them. So I play this game, I let him flirt with me because I do get benefits and it helps that he was cuter than Bugs and way more attractive than Duke.

Funny enough I always like to test my limits with him. Just to see how far he’ll let me go with this little dance.

“How about you let me out of here and I can simply show you what this devilish woman can do.” I say as I trail a finger across my swollen bosom.

His eyes drop down for a second too long and when his eyes travel back to my face he leans in. “How do I know you won’t escape?” He asks in a husky whisper as he reaches up and twirls one of my locs between his fingers.

“You’ll never know until you let me out of this cage.” The corner of his lip quips up and he cocks his head to the side. “I quite like you in the cage. You remind me of this golden flower that my Grandma’am would keep in a vase. It was a beauty but if she lift the glass vase from it, the golden rose would wither away in minutes.”

“So you see me as a weak flower?” He shakes his head. “On the contrary I see you as something precious that needs to be preserved.” I nod and pluck my loc from his touch.

“Funny I just think you like to look at me in this cell so that you know where I am at all times.”

“That is not true. Besides watching someone in a cell is quite boring and reminds me of the games.” He retorts. “I think it wouldn’t be boring to watch me if you had something worth watching.” I say as I take a few steps back and sit down on the stone bench. He studies me as I let a smile dance across my lips.

“Maybe if you got to watch me…satisfy myself.” I tease as I lift my skirt. His gaze was trained on my every move as I raise the skirt past my brown thighs. I run my fingers against my inner thighs and let out a soft moan.

“Am I worth watching now, Coriolanus, darling?” I moan out to him. I watch him lick his bottom lip and see a tent starting to form in his pants.

He leans in closer towards thebars and looks behind himself to make sure no one was there. “You’re going to get me in trouble Evangeline.” He says as he cups himself as he looks back at me. “Then stop watching me. Or try to stay quiet, because I’m going to give you a show.” I slide a two fingers under my panties and I hear him groan as I move my fingers away and show him how slick my fingers are.

“I guess I was wetter than I thought.” I tease as I flick my tongue against my fingers. I can see he wants nothing more than to taste me.

Hell I’m sure if I told him to unlock the cell he would do it without hesitation.

I spread my legs wider and I slide the two digits inside of me, watching him rub himself. “You know you’ll only get in trouble if you get caught in here with me, but I’m sure you wouldn’t care about the punishment as long as you’d get to taste me. Am I right Coriolanus?”

“I would want nothing more than to taste every inch of your body, Evangeline. From head to toe.” I watch him rub himself harder and I close my eyes to enjoy my self pleasure but Coriolanus clears his throat.

“Don’t close those pretty brown eyes. I want them on me when you pleasure yourself. I want to be the only thing you look at when you reach ecstasy.” I let out a groan as I work my fingers on my clit.

He reaches into his pants pocket, surely to get out the keys when we both hear footsteps approaching. I quickly stop and smooth my skirt back down.

Someone clears their throat behind Coriolanus but he doesn’t turn to them. “What?” He says in a tone a little too calm for my liking. “You’re needed in the bunks, Coryo.” They tell him. “I’ll be there. You can go.” The foot steps leave and I give him a sly smile.

“Sorry for interrupting your duties. I’ll behave next time.” He doesn’t return the smile. He just stares at me for a pregnant pause.

“Don’t be sorry, I chose to be here. And I don’t regret it one bit. But I must apologize for the interruption. I have to go. Maybe we can continue this later.” He goes to walk away but I clear my throat, stopping him in his tracks.

“If I’m going to be here for a while, I do hope we get to have some private time together, Coriolanus. There are some…talents I do want to show you, without interruptions.” My eyes flicker to the bugle in his pants and when I look back up I see his blue eyes darken with want.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we have more time when I come to visit you again.” He leaves and I watch him go feeling a bit light headed. I close my eyes for a few minutes and when I open them I let out a breathe. “Evangeline what are you doing?” I ask myself in pure wonder as I look down at my cup of water.

It was after supper time and I was looking at the potato soup as if it were a bomb that would go off at any second. “Nana-Bee’s sunflower stew sounds good about now.” I mutter as I push the bowl away. I nibble on the hard roll and see Sinder, a sweet older lady who was assigned to bring me to the mess room, come right on time.

“Ready?” She asks as she motions me to come to her. I give a slight nod and I go to her, making sure I don’t spook her as she unlocks my cell. “To take a bath like regular folks? Always, Sin.” I give her a kind smile and she returns one back as she escorts me out. As we head down the hall I take a chilled breathe.

“How’s the baby coming along?” I ask Sinder as she leads me further down. She touches her swollen belly then. “He’s coming along nicely. Due in December, so he’ll be a winter baby.”

“That’s nice, make sure when he’s born you bathe him in warm milk so he’ll have warm skin. My Nana-Bee, says it’s nothing worse than having a baby in winter. If they catch the frost they’ll cry and get colic.” I tell her.

“I’ll do just that. Thank you, Evangeline. You know, I don’t believe what they say about you, you’re just different is all.”

I like Sinder, she’s sweet and she makes me feel as if she could be my sister if circumstances were different.

She brings me to the baths and she turns around to give me some privacy as I strip off my clothes and ease my body into the luke warm water. “Evangeline, can I ask something of you?” Sinder asks as she picks up my clothes and folds them for me. “Anything, you know it’s rude to deny a woman with child.” I tell her.

She gives a soft smile. “I have to check in with my sisters, can I trust that you’ll be fine without me for a few minutes?” I nod like an obedient child. “I’ll be here, I won’t run. Besides there’s chill in the air, I’d catch my death if I leave like this.” She nods and she quietly leaves me alone.

I rub the cheap soap against my brown skin and let out a soft sigh. I let myself duck underneath the water and let the silence surround me.

Maybe it would be easy if I just drowned in this bathtub. Then these people can find my body and feel guilty for taking me away from my family. However I wouldn’t want Sinder to be the one to find me.

As the morbid thoughts seep through my brain I feel a burn in my lungs. My body twitches under the water and I break the surface and take in a mouth full of air.

Something in the air was off, almost as if someone’s presence was near. I swirl my fingers in the water and stare at the door. “Seems awfully rude of you to watch a lady while she’s having an intimidate moment.” I call out as I feel someone watching me.

I stare harder at the door and feel annoyed that whomever is behind it thinks I’m an idiot. “Might as well come out.” I call out once more. The door slowly opens and behind it was Coriolanus. The scowl on my face disappears and I sit up as he steps into the room and closes the door behind him. “I went to your cell and I didn’t see you there.” Coriolanus confesses with a tinge of red in his cheeks.

I give a dramatic pout and lean on the side of the bath, not caring that my breasts were on full display to him. “Awe, and you thought I ran away? Careful people might think you care about me, Coriolanus.” I say as I watch his eyes roam over parts of my naked flesh.

“And what if I do care? What’s the harm in that?”His eyes lock onto mine and I feel as if I’m in the room with the beast.

That’s a ridiculous thought, this is just Coriolanus, the same Coriolanus that treats me well and has a liking for me.

“All depends, do you care about my wellbeing or just my body?” I ask as I lean back looking at him carefully. His eyes look down and when they look back up they seem to darken a shade darker. He takes a step further into the room which makes me want to back away from him but I make my body stand still.

What is going on here?

“Why do you do that?” He asks, the question catching me off guard. “Do what?” I ask innocently. “Tease and tempt me? I could take advantage of you right now and no one would know.” I swallow before answering.

“I would know, and maybe I want you to take advantage of me a little. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you stare at me, Coriolanus. Like how your eyes linger on my tongue when I lick my silverware clean after my meals. Or how when you cuff me, your hands brush against my skin longer than it should. I fascinate you, and I probably haunt your dreams.” I say as I cup water in my hands and slash it over my face.

“You do haunt my dreams, and my nightmares I’m afraid. But if I could sleep and see your beauty then may I never awaken again.” I blush hearing that compliment and it let a bit of my guard down. “You really know how to lay on the charm.” I comment as I reach for the sponge to wash myself. I wasn’t fast enough because he had plucked the sponge out of my reach. “Please allow me.” He says as he walks behind me.

I go to tell him that it wasn’t necessary but he was already rubbing small circles against my shoulder blades. Which were stiff from sleeping on the hard cot in my cell. I relax and let him work my muscles.

“You’re quite tense, especially here.” He reaches lower and I keep my moans to myself. “That feels nice, really nice. You are talented with your hands, Coriolanus.” I tell him as he lathers up the sponge and goes to rub my lower back.

“It’s a talent among many that I possess.” He comments. I turn to him then and look up at his face. “You know, you are quite beautiful for a man, Coriolanus.” He blushes and looks away. “Thank you, though I don’t think men want to be called beautiful.” I give a shrug. “There are beautiful men and there are handsome women. That’s just how the world is.”

“I like the way you look at the world, you seem to have a fresh perspective on it.” He comments as I study his face. “Mmm, can I ask you something? And you have to answer me honestly.”

“Of course.”

“Does your lover ever get jealous that you spend time with me?” He stops and looks at me puzzled. “I don’t have a lover.” It shouldn’t come as a shock by the way he flirts, but it was a big puzzling to know that he didn’t have a lover. He is quite a looker and his eyes were just gorgeous.

“You don’t? Well that’s quite sad.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Besides if it’s so sad, why don’t you be my lover?” I expected him to ask me that question.

“I don’t think you’ll want me after a while, I am quite the wild card.” He leans in close and move my hair behind my shoulder. “I think I’d want to keep your forever. Would you let me? Keep you that is.”

“I don’t know, give me a good reason I should be kept by you.” I tease. He nods slightly and he places the sponge down. “Not only do you haunt me, but I crave you. I crave to know your taste on my tongue. I crave to feel your body pressed against mine. If there is one thing I want it’s to keep you for all of eternity.” He lets his hands touch my chin and I feel him tug at my lower lip, releasing it from my teeth.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask as I feel him pull me closer. “So you’ll say yes. Say yes and be mine, Evangeline. Be my little rose.” He leans in and fight hard to not fall for his charm. “I don’t think I will.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “I suppose I have to use stronger measures then.” With a swift skill, he takes me out of the bathtub and sits me on the edge. “What are you-“ He interrupts me by trailing his fingers down my slit. “You know I’ve been thinking about this little pretty pussy all day. When I had some alone time, I touched myself and thought about you on your knees, taking this down your throat.” He places my hand on his bulge and I let a moan escape my lips.

“Do you know how badly I want this inside of you? In every hole that you’ll allow me to have access too, Evangeline? But first I need to be a gentleman and show you that I will adore the very ground you walk on.” I watch as he lowers himself on his knees and parts my legs.

I wants as he leans in and he inhales my scent deeply. I bite my lip as I see his blue eyes look up at me. “Those moans you were making earlier, I want you to only make those sounds for me. You see, Evangeline. I am a jealous lover and I don’t like sharing what’s mine. So you can’t moan for any other man but for me. Do you understand?” He asks as he massages my inner thighs.

“I think so.” I whimper as I feel my cunt move towards his mouth. “No thinking, say yes, to me my little rose.”

“What if someone catches us?” I ask my mind slowly caring less about Sinder and more about Coriolanus’ mouth. “Don’t worry about that, just focus on me.”

He kisses my pussy lips which cause a slight shiver down my core. The kiss deepens and I feel him use his tongue to part my lips.

I feel my head loll back but his hand finds my throat and I know without words, he wants me to watch. He wants me to watch him devour me.

His fingers tighten a bit but the action was more for pleasure than for pain. I bite my lip, as I continue to watch as he assaults my pussy with his long tongue. His name seems to sing off of my lips as I find a blissful rhythm with my hips.

I reach down and place both of my hands on the sides of his head as I push his face deeper. God his tongue was working wonders on my little throbbing clit.

His eyes flutter closed and I move my hips faster. I feel the balls of my feet press into his thighs as I try to keep balance but I almost lose it when I feel his tongue flick against the hood of my clit faster.

I let out a sharp whimper as he uses his free hand and pressed my left thigh further apart. He then takes his middle and ring finger and does a come here motion inside of me. Massaging my g-spot as well as giving long and salacious licks to my now tightening clit.

“Oh god..” I cry out as I buck my hips harder against his now swollen lips and tongue. His eyes glare up at me as if to dare me to lose control and give him what he desires.

He wants me to say yes.

Shit I can almost taste the word on the tip of my tongue.

I feel his grip on my neck tighten as well as the muscles in my lower stomach. I hook him closer to me as if I want him buried into my skin as I fuck his mouth.

Not caring that we could get caught. No longer caring that he is slowly cutting off my air supply. I want him to make me come, I want to give him the very thing he wants. “Yes…Coriolanus..” Is all I can manage to say before I have tunnel vision. I feel light headed as I come against his tongue. I hear him moan and suck as he releases my throat from his dangerous hand.

I suck in air as he grips my hips and he drinks in all of me. My body shivers but not from the chill in the air. But from the heat that he was giving off of his body. When he looks up at me, he has a very pleased look on his face. He flicks his tongue one more time and I shiver from the action.

When Coriolanus stands up I feel my body wanting to lean in to him, as if he’s a magnet and I’m just a scrap of metal being pulled in his direction. I still my body to keep from falling into him.

His pupils blow out, causing the blue in his eyes to almost disappear. He then licks his bottom lip and reaches out to me. I lean into his touch and he smiles. “My loving little rose.” He whispers to me as he lifts my white loc and twirls it between his fingers.

I say nothing and just look up at him. Something isn’t right, I feel as if I just gave him a piece of my soul and now I’m going to be damned for eternity.

When I finally go to speak we hear a gasp. I turn slightly to see Sinder with a shocked expression on her face. “You’re not allowed in here.” She tells Coriolanus.

“I came in here to check on our guest. And to my surprise I see she was left all alone. What would’ve happened had she had drowned? Then you’d be the one having to be punished. I’ll let it slide this one time. But if it happens again you’ll be the one who will be chosen for the next Reaping and I’ll be sure of it.” Coriolanus says in a frosted tone.

He looks back at me and I see a ghost of a smile on his lips. “We’ll talk later, Evangeline.” He sends a soft kiss against my temple and leaves the both of us in the mess room.

When the coast is clear, Sinder walks over to me with a towel and she starts apologizing profusely. “I am so sorry Evangeline, I was only gone for a moment. He didn’t hurt you did he?”

“No, I don’t think he would’ve anyways.” I say as I dry off my body and get dressed. But also not feeling sure that I believe what I just told her. “I would be mindful of that particular Peace Keeper. He’s charming but I’ve heard rumors, that when he takes interests in one of the girls, he likes to play with them until they break.”

She brings me back to my cell and I tell her good night as she gives me one more apology.

It falls to silence and I take my cup and I swirl what liquid I had left in it. “I hope he knows fire can be a bit difficult to break.” With those whispered words, I stare into the cup and dip my fingers into the liquid. As I raise my fingers into the moon light I see flames slowly licking my finger tips. I flick my tongue against them and I smile in the dark corner of my cell.

“Well when you play with fire, you tend to get burned…”

Next

[fieldofdaisiies]

Ars Amatoria | ch. XI

-all rights reserved-

Elucien AU word count: 2,9k words warnings: none

masterlist

It feels so right and it feels so good. Here in his arms. Here in Lucien’s strong and warm arms. She has no idea when throughout the night she has ended up in his hold, but actually she does not care. The sensation is too delightful to worry about anything else. Elain takes a deep breath, her nostrils instantly filled with Lucien's enchanting scent. She hums softly, sensing the tall man behind her stir, as he wraps his arm snugly around her.

 “You smell nice. Like a flower.” Lucien's hoarse morning voice dances over her skin like a feather, and leaves goosebumps in its wake. Elain’s body goes rigid as something in her lower belly tightens. 

This feels more than right. This is exactly where Elain belongs. Right in his arms. These thoughts greeted Lucien upon waking up, he can't help but smile, his lips pressed gently against her soft hair. He squeezes her tenderly, wanting to bring her even closer, cherishing every precious moment of this early morning. 

Elain feels the hard press of her husband’s chest against her back, his body touching hers in every place and she finds herself relishing this feeling. "You are so hard,” she mumbles, eyes slowly adjusting to the early morning sunlight. 

Lucien chuckles deeply behind her, his hard chest vibrating against hers. “If you only knew, my lady." 

He gives her another little squeeze before drawing back his arm and flopping onto his back. “As much as I hate leaving this bed right now, we have to go back on the road. I assume the carriage is already waiting for us.” 

A sad feeling, mixed with a hint of frustration, overcomes Elain and she pouts her lips. She does not want to leave this bed right now. She wants to stay here forever if it means Lucien would keep his arm around her. But she of course understands the urgency of them having to leave so early in the morning. If they leave that early they can reach their first stop before dusk, which is a safety measure they have to take. They should not travel in the night, in the darkness.

As Lucien stretches his arms and legs, and cranes his neck, the bones in his body crack audibly. His feet touch the bottom bed frame, while Elain, rolling over, discovers herself gazing at him once again. She is captivated by him.

“You are quite tall,” Elain silently observes and would love nothing more than to just slap her hand over mouth. Obviously her traitorous mouth would form an alliance with her traitorous brain and just say the things she thinks out loud. 

The deep rumble of Lucien’s chuckle fills the room and once again makes the hair on Elain’s body stand. She glimpses up at him so she can face him better and folds her hand under her cheek. Lucien turns his head to look down at her, smiling. “Well, I guess you can say so. You are not quite that tall.” He grins then, his mind already wandering to a place where he lifts her into his arms, carries her around, preferably to their shared bed and—

Lucien cuts his thoughts short and wipes his hand down his face. Elain’s expression has changed and Lucien gathers that what he said has caused her mood to dim. He does not understand, though. The corners of her mouth are a little downcast, her eyes lacking a little bit of their sparkle. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you. I had no intention to make this sound negative. I find it…quite lovely, sweet, I have to admit. You being shorter is not bad, I just stated a fact.” 

The corner of his mouth tugs up, forming a sheepish smile on his face that Elain can only return with a small grin. 

Once again her thoughts started to go to a place where she compared herself to all the tall and slender women in Italy, who were so lithe, and had those long legs. But if Lucien finds it —her— lovely, she really wants to believe him. “You think so?” 

“I think so, yes.” Lucien reaches over to her, his index finger carefully brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “And I also still firmly believe that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” 

There is so much admiration in his russet eyes, so much warmth, if Elain stood it would make her knees buckle. She leans into his touch, her eyes fully focused on his, on his long lashes when he blinks his eyes, on the scar on the one side of his face. He leans forward a little, so close his breath is tingling her skin. 

“I bet you tell that every woman,” Elain jokes, a little bit of mischief glowing in her eyes. Lucien drags his index and middle finger down her cheek and then, as softly as possible, flicks her nose. “You are the only one I tell this to, my lovely wife.” His smile is genuine as he says so, his head leaning in a big more. Elain chortles softly, tipping her chin up so she can get just an inch closer. They are breathing the same air, there are only mere inches between their faces. Elain's eyes start to close and—

 A loud knock from the door startles them both and they sit up in bed in one quick movement. Elain pouts her lips, feeling like she has just been caught doing something she should not have done. Although she has just been lying in bed with her husband, exchanging some sweet words and touches. 

“Yes?” Lucien asks, his voice a little raspy and tinged with annoyance. He brushes his hands through his long auburn her, untangling some strands when they wait for an answer.

“The carriage is ready. Messer Mancini has told me to inform you.” 

With a thank you, they accept the information and waste no moment to gather their things, get dressed and ready for the journey back which will them take to some important cities for small stops and also to Modena for an important meeting with no other than Kallias D’Inverno, Duke of Modena. 

Just as the carriage arrives in Piacenza for a small stop they finish the breakfast they have taken along with them for on the road. The carriage comes to a stop and Elain can barely hold herself still. She desperately needs to relief herself, having been wiggling around on the bench in the carriage for the past hour. As the carriage driver opens the door, Elain makes a beeline for the nearest possibility to pee, meaning a public toilet house where there is a row of stone seats you can do your business into. 

Lucien, his arms crossed in front of his chest, leans against the carriage as he waits for her. “Quite a calm day today here,” he comments, directing his question towards the carriage driver. The elder man only grumbles some incomprehensible words into his beard before he goes back to letting the horses drink from a bucket full of water. 

Lucien observes his surroundings, squinting his eyes at the narrow alleyway that Elain disappeared in. He watches the people who pass by, assessing them carefully. You never know who you can trust and who not. And somehow Lucien can’t shake of the unpleasant sensation of being watched, but that is probably just in his mind. He leans his head against the carriage and closes his eyes, drawing in a deep breath as the sun warms his skin. 

It is only when Elain finally appears again, elegantly strolling back to the carriage, that Lucien is filled with a sense of relief. He hasn’t been worried, but something about not seeing her anymore and having to wait for her return made him feel a little uneasy. He smiles brightly when she walks up to him and he helps her climb back into the carriage. 

“Apologies for taking so long. I wanted to wait until no one else was in the room. I hope you understand.” Lucien signals the driver that they can carry on. And, of course, he understands and also tells her so. The journey to Modena is quite uneventful, very calm and most of the time the two of them doze in the carriage. 

When dawn arrives, so do they in the city Modena where they are warmly welcomed by Duke Kallias d’Inverno and his eight month pregnant wife Viviane. They are led into a big dining room, made of the most beautiful white marble. They dine there before the important business discussions start. As it is the norm for women at that time, both Elain and Viviane keep silent during their husbands discussions, only speaking from time to time when they are directly addressed. 

“Money is good and great, we could gladly accept the 10000 fiorini d’oro, but I don’t think it quite suffices. There is something else I might ask of you.” 

Viviane, sitting next to her husband and opposite Elain, starts to shake her head, some strong emotion, almost something like fear or utter disbelief etched into her features. 

Kallias only turns to her and closes his eyes for a moment. “With her limp she will find no husband otherwise,” he tells his wife in a low voice. “It is about our oldest daughter. She once got hit by a carriage and limps since then. Briar. We are looking for a husband for her.” Lucien exchanges a look with Elain and then he parts his mouth, not quite sure what he should answer. “I understand and I am deeply sorry this happened to her, but how can we help?”

Kallias folds his hand on the table, the pain about having to marry her off also obvious in his blue eyes. He does not want to do it, but he wants her to have a husband, she deserves this kind of luck as well. 

“I was wondering if you have a possible suitor for her. If you maybe know a noble man she could wed. Another brother or a cousin?” 

Lucien takes a moment to think and the only person that comes to his mind is Jurian, who is no option — for more than one reason. He would first of all murder him if he wed him off, he has a girlfriend and he is no noble man. 

Lucien looks at Elain who is nibbling on her lower lip, her gaze trained on a mark in the wood on the table in front of her. She looks like she is deep in thought, and somehow plagued by one thought currently coursing through her mind. She tilts her head a little, and glances up at Lucien. Then her lips part, her voice barely above a whisper, and she says, “What about Tamlin?”

The moment the words are spoken, the fire of regret sparks alive in her chest. She is doing the same to the girl that has been done to her, only difference is that Lucien is a good man, but Tamlin might not be. Why she said it, Elain doesn’t really know herself. But she wanted to make a contribution, show that she also knows things and that she can help. She wonders if she did it to prove something to Lucien — look, how amazing I am, I can come up will brilliant ideas that will hurt another person. But she just wanted to also say something, to also be important one day, to make a suggestion that could actually work. Lucien told her about what their father said, them and the Hybern family somehow forming and ally through marriage…. Killing two birds with one stone…or so, is what she wanted to do with her suggestion. 

Elain swallows, her husband’s eyes on her. He looks surprised, and tilts his head from one side to the other. 

“My wife is right, we might have someone.” 

Lucien explains the situation to Kallias, who seems a little wary, but more and more starts to approve of the idea. He watches both Elain and her husband closely, reading their expressions, asking questions and discussing certain things. However, Elain finds herself too consumed by her own tormenting thoughts, contemplating the possibility of having shattered the poor girl's life, to truly concentrate on the current discussion.

She retires earlier than Lucien, saying she is tired from the journey and just wants to catch a bit of sleep before they continue on the next that. Lucien and Kallias are in deep conversation about the pope when Elain slides out of the room and Viviane shows her to her chambers. “I see you are not quite sure about your suggestion, am I right?” Viviane asks when she shows Elain to her room. Elain turns to her, wondering if she has really been so obvious. Well, she has. 

“I am sorry, it sounds silly. I first made the decision and then regret it.” She gives her head a little shake, but Viviane places her hand on Elain’s shoulder. “Not silly at all. We can have further thoughts about certain ideas we suggest. I don’t think it is a bad idea at all. It will make your banks allies again, and it will also secure our alliance. And also our daughter will finally find a husband, she has been longing and hoping for so long.” A sad smile spreads over Viviane's face when she says so. “My marriage was arranged as well and I am happy. Yours was as well, and you don’t seem too sad about it. Maybe, or hopefully, hers will be as well. I am just sad she will live so far away from then on.” 

Elain nods, politely thanking Viviane for her words of assurance. They are like balm to Elain’s plagued heart. A heavy sigh slips through Elain’s lips and she thanks her again, telling her good night and then she slips into her room. She does not bathe this evening, only lets herself fall head first into the bed, wringing with her mind until she eventually falls asleep. 

✢ ✢ ✢

“What is on your mind, my lady?” Having previously pointed out various things about the landscape to Elain, Lucien leans back from the window of the carriage. Elain was mostly only responding to his observations with a simple “mhm”, her mind too full with thoughts to really focus on her husband.

“Something is bothering you. You can tell me. You are my wife, you can always tell me.” 

They are shortly past Bologna then, the sun shining brightly in the cloudless sky. Lucien has just remarked that they are finally nearing a forest which is good as the inside of the carriage heats up quickly and they could really need the time in the cooler forest. 

Her eyebrows are drawn close when Elain lifts her gaze to Lucien and gives her head a little shake. “I just wanted to make an important contribution. I just wanted to be important and now I think I ruined the young girl's life.”

 Lucien doesn’t understand immediately, but when awareness dawns on him he feels an immense wave of empathy for Elain. People with power often have to make decision they later regret or that weigh heavy on them. What Elain suggested is nothing in comparison to what Eris or even he himself already had to do, did.

“Elain,” he softly says, reaching forward to take his wife’s hands into his. “It was a good idea, and I think it benefits a lot of people. Tamlin, deep in his heart, is not a bad man, and I think he will be able to treat her well. Both and Eris and I will make sure he does, or we will skin him alive.” 

Lucien is no anymore so fond of his former friend, things have changed over the past years, but maybe a woman on his side won’t be a bad idea. 

He softly squeezes Elain’s hands, looking deep into her eyes. “And you are important. Not because of this suggestion. You always are important. Every day. To me you are important. Not only because you are my wife. I might not have shown you, but I really—“

The carriage takes a sharp turn, making both Elain and Lucien slam against the walls. Suddenly many noises engulf them. Everything is loud around them. Voices, the neighing of horses, the barking of dogs, and the clashing of swords.

Sharp fear blooms in Elain’s chest as her breathing turns erratic. One of the wheels of the carriage hits something hard, tosses her and Lucien up and once again against the wall. 

“Fucking hell,” Lucien curses, trying to keep his hold on Elain. Another sharp turn and the wheels lift of the ground. It feels like time stands still for a moment, Elain’s temple aching fiercely from where she hit the carriage wall and something wet pools above her eye. She feels weightless, like no gravity exists, and then the carriage flips over, turns and turns and neither of them can brace themselves for the harsh landing that comes a second later. Wood splinters, something pierces Elain’s ribcage and she whines under her breath. With one final flip the carriage slams against a tree and groans loudly. Elain’s head smacks against the wall and the last words she hears before sweet oblivion falls over her  is, “Dead. They are dead. Tell your master we have taken care of the problem.” 

Elain's eyes fall shut a moment later, her thoughts with Lucien, if his heart is still beating in his chest or if those men outside were correct. 

~~~~~~~~~ taglist AA: @octobers-veryown @velidewrites @areyoudreaminof @acourtofthought @liftyourhipsformelovex @hallway5 @stickyelectrons @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @bibliophiliaxvignette @thelovelymadone @sunshinebingo @arabellatheauthor @autumndreaming7 @nestas-workwife @rarephloxes  @tuzna-pesma-snova general el. taglist: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional  @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @sunshinebingo @gracie-rosee @a-frog-with-a-laptop

[goblins-writing]

A Reprieve In Water

A/N: This is a fast paced fic and my only excuse is that I’m just now getting back into writing and posting my writing. Enjoy!

Pairing: Lucifer x gn!MC

Genre: Smut

Warnings: A bit of somnophilia, choking but like with water, and I think that’s it. Let me know if there’s anything else that should be added. 

Summary:  After finding you in his bath, Lucifer can’t help but use you the way he wants. 

You didn't mean to fall asleep in your boyfriend's bathtub. It was just that the water was so warm and you hadn't slept properly in about a week because of finals. Really, who could blame you? Your boyfriend, Lucifer, couldn't. However, when he saw you something churned inside him. Something dark. Something primal. The need to make you his again and again filling his senses till it overwhelmed him and he needed to act. So he did. Slowly, as to not wake you, he made his way over to the foot of the bathtub and starts to pull you up. Bit by bit, still ever careful to not wake you. He places your head so it rests on the lip of the bathtub, and goes to unbuckle his belt. You groan and he freezes, checking to make sure you're still asleep before he pulls his pants and underwear down; letting his cock slap against his stomach. Already hard from just his imagination. Cautiously, he grabs both sides of your jaw with his thumb and index finger and then squeezes so your lips open in an 'o' shape. He then drags your jaw down so your teeth separate and then puts the tip of his penis into your mouth. You don't wake up until his dick goes down your throat, and you jolt with a strong gag; but instead of giving you mercy, he pushes until his balls meet your chin. You're gagging around him, looking up with tears in your eyes and even in your half-asleep state, you can't help but be turned on by the sight in front of you. Lucifer; looking down on you with an animalistic hue in his eyes. It makes your core tingle. In true animalistic fashion, he starts to wildly thrust into your mouth; hitting down your throat each time. You're still gagging, tears streaming down your face but you find yourself grabbing his hips and pushing him down farther. After a few minutes of constant thrusting, he relents. Removing himself from your mouth and rubbing your jaw to ease the ache. "Good," he says and you sigh happily. But just when you think he's done, he drags you up by your arms and throws you to the tiled ground. You groan in pain, hoping for a min of reprieve but he just keeps going; forcing you on your hands and knees so your ass is up and face over the edge of the tub, facing the water. You're overly aware of how naked you are but when you're about to try and cover up a little, he pushes his cock into your hole and lets out a loud moan. You swear everyone knows what you're doing now. He's thrusting before you have time to breathe, and you're crying out into the air in pleasure. He's hitting every right spot inside of you and it brings more tears to your eyes. His thrusts never relent, desperate and hot. You're crying now, so much pleasure coursing through your body it makes you feel sick. All of the sudden, he's telling you to breathe and you have just enough time to suck in a breath before he's pushing your head under the now cold water of the bath. It's shocking and painfully attractive to you that he'd do such a thing but you're too busy trying to hold your breath to dwell on it. And when you think you cant hold your breath anymore, he pulls you back up and lifts you so your back is against his chest. He's grunting and moaning into your ear now, a hand going down to play with you as you moan. You're desperate for more, and when you start whining he tells you to shut up; pushing your head under the water again. This time, your breath lasts substantially less due to there barely being a warning but he still manages to correctly guess when you need to come up for air. You briefly wonder if that's due to his demon senses. He's getting close and you can tell, his hips losing rhythm and hands grasping onto your more firmly, trying to ground himself. You are close too, the pressure between your hips growing stronger and stronger until it's a coil waiting to snap. He's playing with you again, pushing you over the nonexistent edge of pleasure and taking himself down with you. Both of you cumming with each other, grasping desperately onto one another to find a reprieve. You both collapse onto the bathroom floor, air filling your lungs rapidly and hands never leaving each other. You're smiling, and he's nuzzled into your neck. Leaving small kisses in his wake. You lie like this for a few minutes, hands aimlessly wandering over him and his not so aimlessly reaching to play with you again. You're not surprised, his demon libido is much more than a regular human. What does surprise you, however, is how he flips you over onto your stomach again; his hips already moving and you crying in overstimulation. He's thrusting wildly again, and as you flail helplessly against the tiled floor; Lucifer can't help but think of how lucky he is.

[duskholland]

Crash Into You || Tom Holland Smut

ice hockey!tom x figure skater!reader — smut.

summary ↠ you can’t stand the ice hockey team. they’re loud, brutish, and incredibly annoying. it’s just inconvenient that you can’t seem to stop running into their star player, an irritatingly suave man called tom, nor deny the way your pulse quickens every time he’s around...   word count ↠ 20.2k. warnings ↠ mild depictions of sport-related injury including blood and nose breakage, a lot of bad language, some jealousy, and nsfw smut material! extended smut warnings are beneath the cut, but this is 18+ !!! minors dni.   a/n ↠ it’s funny because I tell myself I don’t like sport aus, yet this is somehow one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written...? the au is kinda ~obscure~ I guess, but it checked so many of my boxes whilst writing it, and I had a great time. it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever posted?! ahh !! I hope you’ll like dutchy, and give this a go even if you’re not really into hockey <3   —↠ there are so many different people that helped me out with this!!! in addition to all the wonderful anons that sent in ideas last month, I want to extend a huge thank you to @geminiparkers @tetralea @hollandharrison @honeyspidey @stixnstripesworld and @uglypastels for each helping out in some way, whether that be through brainstorming ideas, making incredible art, or teaching me about hockey and/or skating! <3<3 also—the biggest thank you ever to the lovely sammy @t-holland2080 for not disowning me after editing this for me and seeing my basic spelling errors lmfao. ily <3 hope you all enjoy !!

extra !! @uglypastels made two beautiful pieces of fanart for tom aka dutchy — you can view these here + here !!! @softholand​ also made an absolutely incredible moodboard based off the fic, and you can view that here :’) thank you to both of them for using their amazing artistic talents on this fic + making me literally like. the happiest writer on the planet :’) 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended smut warnings ↠ two sections of smut. this is a certified Horny Warmy™️ (thanks chlo for that category) so it’s very gentle, very wholesome. includes oral and fingering (fem-receiving) and protected MxF sex :’)

✧ *:･ﾟCrash Into You ･ﾟ:*✧

“Why are they always so noisy? How hard can it be to hit a bit of plastic?”

You laugh quietly, glancing at your friend, Yelena. She’s staring out across the rink, hands resting on the plastic barrier that lines the perimeter with irritation in her icy blue eyes. A warming blush tickles the apples of her cheeks, and it softens the expression of frustration that she wears so well.

“Seriously,” she adds. “Listen to them… It’s so… unpleasant.”

Your teeth catch your lower lip as you bring your gaze away from Yelena and instead onto the object of her anger: the hockey team.

Your eyes zip around the rink, watching as the players run through yet another drill. The team—Kingston Kites—, 20 in full, 7 currently on the ice, crash around the arena like a cyclone of a thousand moving calamitous parts. For the last few months, the practice rink at your sports centre has been closed, which has led to the pre-existing rivalry between the hockey team and your own team of figure skaters deepening. There have been arguments between your managers and theirs about which team gets priority over the exhibition rink. What’s emerged has been a bitter taste in the air. Simply put: the figure skating team dislikes the ice hockey team, and the feeling is mutual.

“I dunno,” you mutter. “I guess it means they’re working hard.”

The noises are rather distracting. You watch as the blurry figures, shrouded in the team colours of white, green, and orange, line up and take shot after shot at the small net on the ice. After each attempted shot on goal, the players have a tendency to release loud grunts and exclamations of exertion, and they echo around the empty arena. Whilst you agree with Yelena that the noises are irritating, a small part of you also admires their commitment.

“Perhaps.” Yelena steps back from the side and starts to stretch her arms. You do the same. There’s a fifteen-minute overlap in the scheduled slots on ice when the figure skating team uses half the rink to warm up as the hockey team uses the other to cool down. After the fifteen minutes play out, the Zamboni skims out the cuts in the rink, and the hockey team finally leaves you alone. It’s not ideal to share the rink, but every second you can spend practising helps. “I can’t stand them.”

You smile softly, slowly rotating your right arm as you warm up the muscles. “I know,” you agree. “You always complain about them.”

She scowls, eyes glistening with fierce irritation. “Because they’re annoying. So dramatic and messy.”

“Mmm, well, I don’t think they’re very fond of us either,” you respond. You bend over, slowly rubbing your fingers over the bandage you have wrapped around your right ankle. “Did you hear about Jenna and Lou in the gym last week?”

“No. What happened?”

You sit down on the cool floor of the arena, thankful for the many layers you’re wearing. As you slowly start to massage your ankle, you glance up at your friend.

“They got interrupted by a couple of the guys. Uh, Osterfield and Barrett? They wanted to do a weights competition or something.”

Yelena scoffs. “Losers.”

You smirk. “They won, though. Lou and Jen. Apparently, the guys stormed out. Couldn’t take getting beaten by a couple of skaters.”

Your friend cackles then offers you a hand up. You grunt as you stand and steady yourself, glancing down at your skates and checking the laces. A loud buzzer goes off, and you hear a few yells of disgruntlement come off the ice as the players realise it’s the end of their solo practice and the start of your turn on the rink too.

“Can’t wait to get out there,” Yelena murmurs, eyes sparkling. You nod in agreement and crack your knuckles in anticipation.

Together, you walk over to the small gate in the side of the rink, joining the line with the rest of your team. Ten of you make up the competitive figure skating team, and all of you wear varying articles of black, thermal clothing. You’re in a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a loose burgundy t-shirt, drifting over the top. The cold doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, but that’s only through the years you’ve spent gliding around at sub-zero temperatures.

You sigh happily as you inhale a breath of the frozen air that hangs crispy above the rink. You step onto the ice, closing your eyes as you skate forwards, your body supported effortlessly by the skates you wear so well.

There’s a line of bright red cones set out across the middle of the ice, sectioning off the hockey players from the rest of you. You smile to yourself as you risk a glance across the rink and take stock of a few of the players, huddled together, grunting and exchanging low words of irritation. They look very funny, wearing various layers of thick padding and helmets—less formal than they’d be at a match, but still dressed up enough to mean business. You feel them staring at you, glaring and bemoaning the fact they have to share the rink, but you let it brush off you like water.

“Y/N! Show me your cannonball. Weren’t you working on it?” Yelena’s back, skimming to rest beside you, plaited blonde hair hanging in two bunches either side of her face. You nod, pushing off and checking the ice is clear ahead of you before skating into a space.

Nothing beats the rush of adrenaline that comes with skating. You think that you’re addicted to it now. The charge of the nervous build-up, followed by the relief of the payoff never gets old. Your fears of failure get swept away the moment you sink into the ultra-focused headspace of an athlete, and the buzz of reward you get every time you land a move perfectly trumps the blood, sweat and tears that such an unforgiving sport has taken from you. You wouldn’t be able to quit skating, even if you wanted to.

A cannonball sit spin is one of the hardest spins in your repertoire, and the element that has been giving you the most grief in your show routine. This season, you’re competing in the national circuit for solo ice dance. It’s not your first time taking on the competition—in fact, consistently over the last few years, you’ve been ranking higher each time you compete. Last year you finished third, and so this year, your eyes are fixed very firmly on the prize. You know securing first place in the competition will attract the Olympic scouts’ attention, and that’s your greatest dream.

Moving quickly, you skate in a brief semi-circle to build momentum before getting low, resting on one leg as you stretch the other out in front of you. Your hands curve around the ankle of your extended leg, and you use the energy to carry you into a spin, the fresh air wafting off the ice and cooling your cheeks. It carries out for a few seconds, then you have to concentrate as you exit the manoeuvre, brows creasing as you continue to turn. You end in a standing spin, arms held out as you slowly bring them back into your sides and end elegantly with a little bow.

Yelena claps, cheering from across the ice. “Fuck, Y/N, that looks perfect now,” she calls out. “Wouldn’t ever be able to tell that it was causing you trouble— oh, look out!”

Your eyes are only just beginning to widen in response to her concern when you feel a very strong figure slam into you, hurtling at top speed and taking you both down onto the ice. You don’t need to see anything beyond a flash of white, orange and green to know that it’s a fucking hockey player, and the ache of getting thrown to the hard ground is quickly overcome by the anger that replaces everything else.

“Oh, shit,” you hear a gruff voice say.

You groan as you try to sit up, opening your eyes just to see that the player is crumpled on top of you. Your chest feels heavy from where he’s laying sprawled over you, and you glance down to look at his face, a scowl holding tight over your features.

Despite the helmet and the visor sticking over the top of his face, you’re able to make out a few details of the man. He seems to be around your age, his skin pale but flushed warm from the cold and such a vigorous practice. The brown depths of his eyes swell with concern and guilt, pairing nicely with the regretful smile that pangs across his thin pink lips. You get a peek at his brown hair sticking out from beneath his helmet, and can’t quite stop your eyes from catching on the hard line of his impressive jaw.

“You idiot,” you mutter, shaking off the daze that comes with admiring such a handsome stranger. “Did you even look where you were going before deciding you were going to try and kill me?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression of concern burning into irritation as he scowls at you.

“Fucking hell,” he replies. His accent twangs prominently, cool and unyielding. “It was an accident, darling.”

You grunt, rapidly scooting back across the ice the moment he’s clambered off you. He sits across from you, brushing at the pads on his knees as he stares at you remorsefully. You can’t tell if he’s pouting at you or the shards of ice messing up his knees.

“An accident is brushing into someone, not slamming them onto the ice,” you mutter. Bitterness sweeps into your voice. “Twat.”

“Alright, alright.” He throws his hands into the air and leans closer. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

You draw your lips into a tight-lipped frown and look away, ignoring him as you try to stand, only to end up wincing as pain shoots up your bad ankle. “Fuck,” you whisper, your irritation growing stronger as you try to rotate your foot and feel the pain thicken.

Opposite you, the man clambers to his feet, getting his bearings on his skates before begrudgingly sliding up you. Your eyes take in his figure, running the lines of his stocky form. It’s always hard to tell what the guys look like beneath the padding and the helmets, but he doesn’t look as tall as you’d expected when he was laying on top of you. He’s smaller than the rest of them, but you have a suspicion he can probably move remarkably fast. How else would he have been able to take you out so easily?

He offers you a gloved hand, staring at you through cold eyes. “C’mon,” he urges, when you do nothing but stare at his palm. “Let me help you up. It’s the least I can do.”

You eye him suspiciously, but you know you won’t be able to get up without some assistance. A brief glance at your team around you suggests they’re all watching your exchange, intrigued. So, you swallow your pride, grit your teeth, and slip your hand into his glove, digging your skates into the ice as he helps you back to your feet. A short hiss of pain falls through your lips as your ankle throbs. When your leg threatens to buckle, the man moves in closer and grabs at your waist.

“Woah!” he exclaims, holding you up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, trying to steady yourself, “no thanks to you.”

You hear him release an exasperated sigh, and he lets you shake yourself free, but his hand drifts down to pull at your arm and hold you back when you try to skate off.

“What do you want?” you snap, tension in your voice. Beneath the visor, you can make out the guilt dusting his face, but you’re too focused on your recurring injury to pay it much mind.

“I’m sorry,” he tries. “I am.”

You pull your arm free again, and you hear a few hoots drift over from the other side of the rink. The word Dutchy rises louder, and you watch his expression twitch with irritation.

“Whatever,” you reply. You skate backwards, moving away from him, only relaxing when you feel one of your friends link her arm with yours. “Just forget about it.”

The hockey player looks as though he wants to argue with you, but when you harden your glare, he seems to let it go. He shoots you a very tight-lipped smile, mouth puffing a little with air, and then he picks up the discarded hockey stick and skates back to the other side of the rink. Your eyes briefly flutter over the bright text of Holland before he disappears, being enveloped back into the fold of raucous players as you sink into your friend’s side.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, touch far gentler than his had been.

You grimace, looking down at your ankle. “Yeah,” you reply, frowning sourly. Your eyes lift up across the rink, and you let yourself scowl. “Just pissed off.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Following the incident, and an incredibly bad skating practise, you find yourself reprimanded by your coach and put on bed rest for a few days so you can rest your ankle. It’s hard not to blame the distracted hockey player, but you know you probably had it coming. You’ve been walking the knife’s edge for several weeks with your injury, and as much as you hate to admit it, the time off is necessary.

The moment you’re allowed back on the ice, you’re there in a heartbeat. The training arena also operates as a commercial venue, and there are different slots available during the day for the general public to skate. After receiving the thumbs up from the team physiotherapist, you immediately turn up to one of the open slots available to the public, hoping to brush up on a few things before you rejoin your team in the morning.

For the first ten minutes of your practice, things go well. Your ankle is better for a few days off, and you’re able to sink back into your routine and get back to focusing on the gnarly parts that always throw you in a loop. It isn't too busy either, so there’s room to skate around and feel the air running over your face. It’s easy to get lost in it, your chest full of a lightness you’d spent the last few days bed-bound and dreaming of.

You take a break to drink some water after a while, leaning up against the barrier at the edge of the rink and bending over it to rummage through your bag. When you feel a presence behind you, you stand up, glancing back expecting to see a stranger, and feeling your eyes widen as instead, you recognise the man.

He looks very different without the shoulder pads and the rest of his ridiculous costume, but it’s him: Holland, the hockey player responsible for your skating ban. Still tall, and perched on hockey skates, but more relaxed. Like you, he’s wrapped up warmly, with a tight black thermal shirt curled around his arms, and another t-shirt resting over the top. His brown hair flies freely, bouncy and slightly curled, and his eyes are soft.

“Hi,” he says, biting at his thin lower lip. “Do you remember me?”

You frown as you skate to be in front of him, nodding slowly. “The guy that smashed me into the ice the other day?” you tease, voice cool. “Of course. How could I ever forget?”

You watch as his face darkens in shade, his eyes flickering down to your leg. “I’m, uh, Tom,” he leads with. “I saw you skating and I just wanted to see how you were doing… I haven’t seen you at practice in a few days, and I was, uh… sort of worried I’d seriously hurt you.”

Tom looks at you like he’s scared of you, and you have to bite back a smile as you wonder if you were too harsh on him the other day.

“Hmm.” You cross your arms over your chest and inspect him, gaze following how pronounced his biceps look, pushing up against his shirt. “Well, I was benched for a week.”

He curses softly, accented voice sounding out of place speaking such vulgarity.

“I’m sorry,” Tom says. He looks as though he means it, too. Shoulders sagged, eyes concerned, lower lip bitten red. “I promise, love, it wasn’t intentional. If I could go back in time and stop myself from behaving like such an inconsiderate twat, I would.”

You giggle slightly, unable to disguise the glee that comes with hearing him call himself a twat. You watch as his eyebrows arch up, confusion replacing his sincerity as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. You’re still irritated by the situation, but you’re no longer incensed. It’s hard to harbour a grudge whilst he’s pouting so acutely.

“Well, Tom, I forgive you,” you say, voice lighter. He releases a deep breath, and you nod to affirm your point. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” Instinctively, you offer him a hand and find a shiver rolling down your back as his warm palm presses up against yours. Tom’s grip is firm and grounding, and his skin is a lot softer than you’d expected.

“Y/N is a nice name,” he says, voice perkier. His eyes seem more alive, and you don’t miss the way he takes in your form with an inquisitive gaze.

Your lips twist into a smirk. “I’ve already forgiven you, you can turn off the charm now.”

Tom shrugs, eyes glinting cheekily. “It’s not charm, darling,” he returns. “This is just who I am.” It seems to be true, too. He’s a lot bolder now the air between you has cleared, no longer looking like he wants to melt through the ice.

You snort loudly and feel your heart quicken when he smiles. “Well, Tom, what are you doing here?” You quirk an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys practice in the mornings?”

“Yeah,” Tom agrees. He breaks off as he looks over his shoulder and waves a hand at the near-deserted ice. “Coach said I need to work on my sprints, though, and it’s a lot easier to do that without the rest of the team hanging around.”

“Makes sense,” you say, deviously deciding you want to see how far you can push him. “You hockey guys are always so slow on the ice.”

Tom’s jaw drops, and you watch as he straightens up and stands a little taller. He meets the challenge directly, and you can’t deny it—it’s attractive. The way he squares his jaw, flares his nostrils and hardens his gaze is hot.

“Fuck you,” he says, voice light, “I’m definitely faster than you.”

You smirk. “As if,” you quip. You raise a hand, twirling a finger around in the lazy direction of the centre of the rink. “Show me what you’ve got. I might give you some pointers if I’m feeling nice.”

Tom releases a very loud laugh, the skin by his eyes crinkling into fine lines. “You’re hilarious, love,” he responds. “Like a figure skater is going to be able to teach me anything of importance.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and you cross your arms as you stand a little straighter. “That’s bold talk from someone who doesn’t look where he’s going,” you tease. You run a hand through your hair, eyeing him closely. “I could easily beat you in any skating-related activity, and I wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, seeming to feed into the idea of a challenge just as much as you. There’s something about him that fires you up the right way—a shared competitiveness that burns as brightly in you as it clearly does in him. It overpowers everything else, taking over, enticing you into letting go of any residual resentment and embracing the chance to beat him.

“How about we put your bragging to the test, darling?” he suggests, tongue tracing his lower lip. His eyes flutter around the curves of your mouth. “A few races, just to see who’s really better.”

You don’t hesitate to nod. “Sure, Tom,” you agree. “But don’t be too pissy when I beat you.”

There’s something endearingly irritating about how confident he is as he smirks at you and leans forward to briefly rest a hand on your shoulder. “Same to you, Y/N,” he responds. “I know it’s annoying to lose.”

You just shake your head, scoffing as you push away from him and move down to the end of the rink. He follows you, coming to a stop on his chunky skates beside you.

“First one to the other side wins,” you announce, reaching back to rest a hand on the barrier. You tilt your head and stare at him until he does the same. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“3, 2, 1, go!”

It’s slightly ridiculous how badly you want to beat him, but there’s just something so infuriating about Tom. Your competitiveness burns in your chest, makes your blood boil and your hands clench into fists, and you find your eyes zeroing in on the opposite side of the rink as tunnel-vision encroaches. You block him and everything else out, your desire to win taking over as you swiftly launch across the ice, skates clipping the surface with metallic sounds as you sprint it. You don’t break—you don’t give up, slow down, or even turn back until you’re slamming into the barrier at the other side, turning around just in time to see Tom come in behind you, lagging about a second behind.

“Shit,” Tom mutters, grimacing.

You smirk. “Told you I’d beat you.”

Tom pulls a sour face, and it makes you giggle. “Best of three?” he offers. “C’mon, Y/N.” His elbow nudges against your side. “I’m still warming up.”

“Alright,” you agree. “But for the record, I still won.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tom mutters, shooting you a sly smile. “Just you wait.”

You win best of three skating forwards, but Tom manages to snag a victory when it comes to speed skating backwards. You can’t take the smirk of triumph on his face, so you offer up a third competition, yearning to prove yourself.

“Can you do an axel?” you ask. Your eyes drift down to his heavy hockey skates. “Or are your boots too chunky and annoying?”

Tom’s face twitches with doubt, but he’s quick to smooth it away. “Fuck yeah,” he states boldly. “I can do anything you can do.” If he doubts the truth of his words, he doesn’t let it show. “Just, uh… Show me how you do it first.”

You have the suspicion he can’t remember what an axel is, so you decide to oblige him.

“Alright,” you agree, boosting away from him. His eyes follow you, and their presence on your figure brings a hidden smile to your face. “Watch this.”

You perform the trick easily. An axel is the simplest of all the jumps, and it gives you no bother to glide forwards, leap into the air, do a swift, neat turn, then land on your back foot gracefully. You could probably do it with your eyes closed.

“There!” you announce, smile on your face.

Tom gulps nervously.

“Easy,” he says, voice slightly quieter. You cross your arms and watch, incredibly amused, to see how far he’ll take his act before giving up. Tom skates forward, confident in his movements, eyes focused, eyebrows furrowed. He takes his time, failing to do anything beyond skating in a straight line before he suddenly, jerkily, attempts the trick.

Time moves in slow motion. It’s with a combination of glee and horror that you watch him fail spectacularly, doing a rotation of approximately 180 degrees before slipping on the return to the rink and landing flat on the ice, groaning loudly. The few of the people sharing the rink with you look around, concerned, and you’re quick to skate over to him, biting your lip guiltily.

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of him. Tom’s still on the ice, arms crossed, glaring angrily at his skates. “I admire you for trying.”

His attention shifts up to you, and his scowl intensifies. “Whatever,” he mumbles. There’s an element of amusement in his eyes, and he takes your hand when you extend it out towards him. Tom’s heavy, but he springs up easily, his fingers tangled in yours and jerking you a little closer. “That was way harder than it looked.”

You hum, and then gulp as he drops your hand. He’s near to you, breath crystallising into a cloud of icy fog in front of you. Your eyes glide over the spray of brown freckles on his face before skimming down the curved line of his nose until you can admire his mouth.

“Well, it is a sport,” you say, voice a little tight. You clear your throat, shaking yourself from your funk as you realise you’re just staring at his lips. “Just like… Like hockey is a sport. I know we make fun of it, but I doubt me or anyone else on the team could play like you guys do.”

Tom seems to enjoy the praise, standing with a little more confidence as you finish speaking. He nods, then brings two slender fingers up to nimbly scratch at his chin.

“Have you ever tried it?” he asks.

“Not properly.”

Tom smirks. “Well, we need to change that. Go down the end, I’ll grab a net.”

You don’t know how he manages to convince the supervisors of the free skate to let the two of you set up an attack zone in the end segment of the rink, but you don’t question it. The sight of Tom reappearing, haphazardly balancing a net, a hockey stick, and a puck in his arms makes you smile, and you briefly think about how easy it's been for your resentment to melt away. There’s something about him that’s incredibly warm, and you don’t dispute the realisation that he’d probably make a good friend.

“Right,” Tom announces. He’s set up the net and shown you how to hold the plastic stick. Now, both of you are staring at the puck, black and stark against the scratched white ice. “Just hit it.”

You glance up at him, sceptical. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t know what I’m working with until I see you take a hit at it, darling.”

You nod. The stick feels unfamiliar between your hands, but you’re determined to make a better show of it than Tom when he tried to do the axel. After staring at the small open area of the net, you grit your teeth and hit it, watching with widening eyes as the puck soars wide out to the left.

Tom cackles.

“Well… That was an attempt,” he says. His grin doesn’t falter at all, even when you turn around to glare at him.

“Teach me, then,” you quip, scrunching up your nose playfully.

Tom hums, and you watch as he briefly skates away after the puck. You can’t stop yourself from staring at him as he bends over, the bottom of his shirt briefly riding up and exposing the printed band of his boxers. The words Calvin Klein burn into the back of your eyes, still lingering there as he turns and skates back to you. You blink rapidly, shame burning at your face as you try to look more like you’re focused, and less like you can’t stop your eyes from gravitating towards his figure.

He drops the puck back on the ice, just in front of your stick. “Your angle was wrong,” Tom says. “Show me your hands again.” When you do as instructed, he frowns and shakes his head. “No, it’s… It’s more like, your top hand higher, and the lower more angled… Uh… No, no, no. Can I just touch you?”

“Okay,” you squeak, standing a little straighter.

Tom skates forward, resting behind you. He doesn’t hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around you from behind, slender fingers curling over your hands and repositioning them on the stick. You feel like you’ve been electrified—eyes wide, skin responding to his touch. His breath, warm and minty, wafts across the side of your face, and you realise you’re holding your breath.

“Yeah...just like that,” he coos, voice a little softer. He squeezes your hands before letting them go. “Give it another go.”

You swallow back your nerves as you nod, waiting until Tom’s drifted back to hit the puck. You can’t stop yourself from smiling when it goes sailing into the back of the net, and Tom lets out a loud hoot.

“Fuck yeah!” he exclaims, laughing gleefully. “Look at that!”

You glance back at him, enjoying the expression of pride that finds his features. “Pretty good, right?” you say, playing it cool.

“Spectacular, darling.” Tom’s nodding, face alight. “Let’s step it up a notch.”

He brings you through a few drills, and you find yourself enjoying the game despite your early blunder. Before you know it, there’s the sound of a buzzer ringing, signalling that there are five minutes left of your session together. Tom rises to the challenge, announcing that he wants to end by watching you skate at the goal and shoot a point whilst moving. You fail at your first three attempts, unable to coordinate moving the stick, the puck and yourself without something going askew.

“Show me again,” you whine, growing conscious of the timer ticking down.

Tom skates closer, gliding easily with his hands behind his back. His thin lips wear his smirk well.

“Just visualise it, darling,” he says. “Believe in yourself, and you’ll do it.” He pauses, eyes skimming over you. “I believe in you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Follow my line in.”

Tom skates backwards, beckoning you forwards with outstretched hands and a smile like you’re a toddler he’s teaching to walk. He leads your attack, mapping out your path before shifting out of the way just in time for you to successfully skate and hit the puck into the back of the net. His expression clears into relief, but as you start to celebrate, it’s quick to fall flat. You watch, eyes widening, as Tom gets distracted by you and drifts backwards into the goal, skates getting tangled in the netting. You lunge forward to try and catch him, only to make the situation a thousand times worse as you crash into him, grabbing at his shirt just as he manages to steady himself.

It feels like a cruel trick of fate. A repetition of the past, just, instead of Tom tackling you to the ground, it’s you that manages to slam him back onto the ice. It’s more comfortable this time around, though. For you. Tom’s chest is a lot warmer and softer than the ice.

“Fuck,” Tom groans. His face twists into an aching expression, then his eyes slowly blink open. As you make contact with his brown orbs, you’re surprised to see amusement shift across them. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

You snort, taking stock of how muscly his front feels. You’re sprawled out completely over him, face suspended above his, Tom’s palms holding your waist. It’s intimate, especially when he reaches up with one hand and pushes your hair from your face so he can peer at you better. You can’t stop your eyes from going straight to his lips.

“S-sorry,” you stammer, voice breathless. You admire the way his hair is spread out around his head, bold against the ice like a halo. “I don’t know what happened.”

“‘S okay.” Tom’s quieter too. His gaze circles quickly between your eyes and your mouth. There’s something cockier about him, and you know the way you’re clinging to the front of his shirt has something to do with it. “I think you fell for me. Again.”

He’s leaning in. You start to do it, too, even go as far as to let your eyes drift close. He gets so close that you can almost feel the warm outline of his lips, brushing against yours, but then there’s the loud noise of a buzzer vibrating through the air. As the sound dies, it serves to signal the end of such a tender moment, as well as the end of the session.

You startle and push off him as you shoot him an apologetic grin.

“Sorry,” you say. You’re shaking a little, but you hope he puts it down to shock. You manage to clamber up and offer him your hands.

Tom accepts your help, and he groans as you help him up.

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he says, pausing to shake out his legs and slide forward. He swings your palms through the air, squeezing at your fingers as he very gently twirls you beneath his arm, then moves in nearer. “Accidents happen. I’m not surprised you wanted to be on top of me.”

All you can do is laugh and hope Tom can’t tell how he makes the base thrumming of your heart pick up.

“As if,” you return. You glance down at your intertwined fingers and feel your heart pang. “A hockey player? I could never.”

Tom just smiles, then squeezes your hands before letting them slip from his grasp. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. He nudges your shoulder then shifts away, off in the direction of the net. “You know there’s no one that could give you as good a time as me.” He’s joking—it’s obvious in the cadence of his voice, the smile on his face. But why does it feel so layered?

“Ha ha,” you respond, skating over to him. When you notice him struggling, you dart forward and grab the net, slinging it over a shoulder. You glance back, arching an eyebrow as you decide to test the water. “I have had fun, though,” you add. “With you.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, ruffling up his hair with a hand. His smile lights up his entire face.

“Me too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Almost a week passes, and though you don’t see Tom again, he’s certainly on your mind. You find yourself thinking about him all too much, considering he’s a hockey player, and it goes against the team ethos you’ve been surrounded by.

One day, after practice, you end up sitting on a bench outside the rink, waiting on Yelena as she finishes talking with one of your coaches. Bored and curious, you pull out your phone and decide to open Instagram. All around the arena are banners advertising the hockey team’s social media, and you find yourself drawn to the official account with a few easy taps. You start to scroll through the feed, eager eyes skimming over every face until you find the one you’re looking for.

It’s Tom, from last season, clutching the victory trophy in his hands as he’s held on his team’s shoulders. His face is animated, pulled wide in a large grin as he stares at the camera, the skin by his eyes pulled into smile lines. He’s tagged in it, so, curious, you click through and look at his profile. Unsurprisingly, it’s set to public, and you’re careful as you scroll down.

His photos are exactly what you’d expect—a collection of team photos, action shots, and gym selfies. Typical hockey player, but the longer you spend staring at one of his selfies, the cuter he seems to get. Trying to shake yourself out of the daze, you scroll back up, thumb absently wandering over to his Following list. Your eyes widen as you see your profile, at the very top of the accounts.

Tom follows you…?

Brows furrowing, you flip onto your own account, double-checking this new fact by typing out his username in your followers tab. He pops up, at the top, and you sit back, blinking.

Interesting.

After taking a brief moment to compose yourself, you go back to his profile and follow him. You start to flick through his story from the day. You get about halfway through when a shadow casts over your figure. You glance up, expecting to see Yelena, only to startle when it’s Tom.

“Hi,” he offers, raising a hand in greeting. You blink a few times in quick succession, glancing between your phone which shows a mirror selfie from him shirtless in the gym to where he’s now standing in front of you, burgundy hoodie on, flask in hand. You immediately turn your phone off.

“Oh, u-uh, hi,” you say, voice suddenly thick. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile finding his lips as he sees you flustered. “What… What are you doing here?”

“I was in the gym,” he says, telling you information you already know. “Saw you down here on my way out, thought I’d say hi.” He rocks back on his feet, looking a little nervous. “I, uh… Keep thinking about last week. On the ice.”

“Oh?” Tom nods. He hesitates, and you realise he’s just awkwardly standing in front of you. “Wait,” you say, shuffling up the bench. “Sit.”

He perches on the wooden slats beside you, offering you his flask. “It’s hot chocolate,” he says, cheeks blushing slightly.

“After the gym?” you return, arching a brow.

Tom smiles. “Fuck yeah,” he says, pressing the flask into your hand. “It’s good, trust me. And, uh, I don’t have any germs or anything. I think.”

You snort, clicking the top open as you look at him over the brim. “Well, I wouldn’t mind catching anything from you,” you say, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom’s eyebrows soar up his forehead, a short chuckle leaving his lips as you hide your embarrassment behind the metal flask. The burn of revealing such a humiliating thought is quickly soothed away as you taste the deliciously sweet liquid.

“Well?” Tom coaxes, stretching an arm up as he scratches the back of his neck. His hoodie smells of fresh fabric conditioner. “Good, eh?”

Begrudgingly, you nod. “Yeah,” you say, shooting him a soft smile. Trying to move on the conversation, you return to what he’d said before sitting down. “Uh, what was that you said? About last week?”

Tom nods, seeming a little less apprehensive now to speak to you after your enthusiastic praise. “I was just thinking about how fun it was to skate around with you. It sort of made me regret not getting your number, darling.”

Your lips twitch slightly. “You can have my number if you want, Tom,” you say, speaking softly. His eyes are so pretty up close. “And I’d be down doing it again. I’m free every Wednesday afternoon.”

He nods his head, curls bouncing from the enthusiasm. You pass him back the flask, carefully angling your phone away from him as you unlock it, quickly exit from Instagram, then open up contacts. You watch him input his number, tongue between his lips as his brows furrow. He curses softly as he messes up the numbers and has to backspace a few times, and you have to focus hard on not letting your face betray how cute you find the whole interaction.

He’s cute.

“There you go,” Tom says, passing your phone back. He stands from the bench, tilting the flask towards you. “I’ve gotta go,” he adds. “Carpool. But, uh… See you tomorrow?”

You nod, biting back your smile. “Yeah,” you agree. “Sounds good.”

Before he leaves, Tom darts down to gently kiss your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment before he springs back and walks away, waving as he goes. As his broad smile fades from sight, you find your hand drifting up, going to your cheek and touching the spot which tingles with the remnants of his kiss.

Swallowing back your nerves, you return your attention to your phone. You open your contact, clicking on Tom and opening up a text message. After a brief moment of contemplation, you decide to play it safe.

Y/N: hey x

A moment later, the notification changes from delivered to read, and the typing bubbles pop up. You shift on the bench, holding your breath.

Tom: hi xx

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

A few weeks pass, and it becomes a habit.

Despite already spending most of your days on the ice, you carve out another hour every Wednesday afternoon and dedicate it to Tom. Over time, he teaches you hockey, and you continue to give him pointers on his skating. After a while, you even manage to coach him through a jump. It’s easy with him. There are no expectations, no routines you need to nail. All you have to focus on when you’re with Tom is having fun—and also trying not to fall too deeply into the reserves of his deep brown eyes. Tom feels like a breath of fresh air—if the air also happens to be loaded full of charm, cheek, and wear an irresistible smile.

Halfway through the hockey league, you end up at the arena on a Saturday night, staying late with the rest of the figure skating team. Your competitive season begins in two weeks, so the team is in for outfit fittings, everyone split across the changing rooms at the arena. You’re competing solo this year, which grants you the rare position of having the freedom to design your dress—a privilege you’ve had a lot of fun with.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasp. “I can’t believe how nice it looks.”

You’re staring at a clothes mannequin, wearing the costume you’d spent hours conceptualising with the team’s designers. It’s a shade of red that perfectly compliments your skin, accented with silver and gold detailing in a beautiful pattern over the front. Gems glimmer and sparkle, and you can’t stop your eyes from tearing up as you look at an object of such beauty.

“Do you like it?” Standing beside the masterpiece, eyes nervous, is Jazzy, the lead costume designer. When you clasp your hands together and nod, she releases a deep sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you in it and start marking out the alterations.”

You feel a little bit like a doll, standing on a raised platform as you pull on your costume, but it’s worth the reward of seeing yourself in the dress. After slipping into it, you pull your hair back and pin it sloppily, so you’re able to admire the ensemble fully. You’re in tights, matched to your skin tone, and the tops of your thighs are covered by the red material. It floats down, and you run your fingertips over the hem of the velvety skirt as a smile finds your lips.

“Stunning,” Jazzy compliments. She passes you a tube of lipstick. “Try that one.”

You carefully smooth the shade over your lips, noting with enjoyment how the hue matches the bodice of the dress. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, you release a breath. When you have your face painted and your hair done properly, you’ll look the part, and clinging to the image of what you’ll look like on competition days is enough to steady some of the nerves. Even if you mess up your routine, you’ll do it looking like you deserve to be there.

“I love it,” you say, releasing a breath. You reach up and pull your hair free, running a hand through it and ruffling it, so it sits normally. You do a small spin, smiling as the material drifts around the top of your legs. “You did an incredible job. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for wearing it so well,” she returns, winking. “Let’s get a few more opinions.”

It isn’t long before the changing room is swarmed with the rest of your team, each one of them wearing garments in various stages of completion. The men are here too—four of them, combining with the five other women and yourself, bringing your team up to an even ten. Each season, your team puts forward various combinations of skaters for the duet, team, and solo events. You’re one of the only skaters competing solo this year—a decision your coach had made as she decided she wants no distractions for you as you try to reach Olympic level. The only other member of your team in a similar position is Tai, your lean, incredibly friendly male counterpart.

Tai saunters across the room, running a hand through his thick black hair. His outfit is deep purple and shimmery, and you wiggle your eyebrows as he does a little spin.

“Pretty sick, right?” he says, shaking a sleeve at you. “I look like Dionysus.”

“So cool,” you compliment. You do a small spin too, smiling widely. “What do you think?”

“Stunning,” Tai returns. He nods to affirm his point. “You’re going to kill it, Y/N. This is your year.”

You smile nervously. “I hope so,” you reply. You take a tight breath. “I really hope so.”

Before the conversation can continue, there’s the slamming of a door opening, followed by an approaching wall of noise—men, talking loudly, a few of them hollering. You raise an eyebrow towards Tai, who scowls.

“Saturday night,” he says. “The team are in the playoffs.”

“Wait, is it a home game?”

Tai nods. “Starts in twenty,” he says. His frown intensifies. “They’re so loud. Idiots.”

You watch from your position on the dressing podium as flashes of white, green and orange pass by the open door. It’s the hockey team, alongside their coaches and their managers. They walk determinedly in the direction of the hockey changing room where you presume they’re going for a pre-game pep talk. You can’t stop yourself from scanning the crowds, looking for Tom. When you fail to seek him out, you feel your heart pang sadly in your chest.

“Y/N?” Tai’s looking at you, amused. “Are you okay?”

You swallow, then nod. “Yeah,” you mutter. “Just tired.”

He hums, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Me too. It’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?”

It’s easy to agree. At this point in the season, with so few weeks to go before the competition begins, you’re at the rink every day.

“Absolutely.”

You stifle a yawn. Your eyes flutter back across the changing room, and you see your tired sentiments seem to be shared by the rest of the team. As they slowly start to leave the room, it grows quieter. Tai drifts away, lingering in the corner and talking with Jazzy and Yelena. It isn’t long until you’re the only four people remaining. You spend a few moments taking photos of your fit in the mirror, trying to get in all the angles so you can send them to your family and fuel their excitement about the season. Your actions are interrupted only when there’s a tender knock on the door, and you glance up towards the entrance to see a bulky, padded figure. Tom.

“Uh, hello? The hockey room is across the corridor,” Yelena says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tom isn’t in his helmet, but he is perched tall on his skates. You’re able to watch as his face twitches with annoyance. He offers a tight smile to Yelena before glancing straight at you, raising a teasing brow.

Chest feeling tight, you step forward, padding quietly towards the door. Your friends are all looking at you, but you’re more preoccupied with Tom and the way his eyes seem to glint as they take you in your form. There’s a small swagger to your step as you watch him shift from leg to leg, his cheeks warm and red, eyes full of appreciation as they stick on the curves of your hips, chest, and then your lips. Your suit is tight, and it brings you enjoyment to watch him admire you. He clears his throat as you fall to a stop in front of him.

“Hey,” you say, voice quiet, perplexed. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game?”

Tom nods. “Yeah,” he says. His tone is darker, and it catches slightly. “I, uh… I wanted to see you.”

You bite your lip, standing a little straighter. “Oh.” You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Well… Do you like it?” You toy with the hem of your skirt. “It’s my outfit for the competition circuit.”

“Give me a spin, darling.”

You oblige him, feeling slightly giddy as you do yet another rotation. You hear him hum, and when you fall to a stop in front of him again, you’re closer.

“Beautiful.” Tom rubs together his hands, slender fingers gloveless and unaffected by the imminent game. He rocks back on his skates, clicking his tongue as he looks a little apprehensive. “I, uh… I was thinking about what you said last week about never going to a hockey game before.” He pauses to dig through one of his deep pockets, pulling out a few pieces of paper. He offers them to you tentatively. “If you want, I have some spare tickets for tonight’s game. Pretty good seats. My family normally use them, but they’re busy tonight, so…?”

It’s with a mix of shock and gratitude that you nod your head immediately, reaching out to take the tickets. “I’d love to, Tom,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

He grins, face lighting up. “Perfect,” he returns. “Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm.”

Your teeth graze your lower lip, and you smile. “I hope so.”

Tom opens his mouth as if to say more, but then there’s a holler from further down the corridor.

“Dutchy! Five minutes! Hurry up!”

He grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Well, that’s me.”

“Dutchy?” you question.

Tom shrugs, then turns around and extends his thumb over his back to gesture at his jersey. “Holland,” he says. He turns back to look at you, grinning. “Just a nickname.”

You coo. “That’s cute.”

Tom licks his lip. “‘S not the only thing that’s cute.” You barely have time to respond before he’s leaning forward to quickly kiss your cheek. “Have fun!” he says, already on his way down the corridor.

“Good luck!” you return. You can almost feel the ghost of his touch, resting on your face so perfectly.

Tom turns, right at the end of the corridor, and he winks. You don’t realise how tightly you’re holding yourself until he disappears, and your lovestruck muscles unravel.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s hard to explain to Tai and Yelena the relationship you have with Tom, so you just give up after a while. They accompany you to the arena. You manage to change your dress for something more casual, deciding to keep the red lipstick on. Tom’s seats are at the end of the rink, positioned mid-way up the stands. They give you a clear view across the ice.

The atmosphere is electric. You’re surrounded by the home crowd, decked out in replica jerseys, printed scarves, and hats that have Kingston Kites printed all over them. It’s a sea of white, green, and orange, and you can’t stop yourself from slipping out during the first break to buy yourself a scarf—just to support the team, and Tom. The teasing you receive from your friends when you reappear is hard to ignore but mellows out when you procure a bag of Maltesers you’d also bought from the stand.

And Tom… Tom.

Tom’s incredible. You can’t keep your eyes off him. The silhouette of his padded figure feels like it’s burnt to your memory. When he’s on the ice, he’s magnificent, commanding the space well, grunting and spinning as he plays. When he’s waiting for his turn on the bench with his team, he’s focused and calm. His eyes are sharp and intense, glinting almost black beneath the harsh rink lighting as they follow the puck across the ice. You find yourself admiring everything about him—watching the way his cheeks are flushed a rosy red, his jawline sharp and fierce. He’s on fire, passion rolling off every part of him, and, quite honestly, it’s incredibly attractive.

Tom’s explained the basic rules of hockey to you a few times, but there’s a stark difference between him telling you, quietly, how line rotations work and actually seeing them in action on a scale like this. The players swap out every minute, only staying on the ice for a short burst of energy as they chase the puck around. Tom, holding the loose position of centre forward, goes wherever needed, carving up the ice like it’s his one task in life. You’re high in the stands, but even from so far, you’re able to see the determination and the passion burning in his eyes.

The game is brutal. By the time it reaches the third and final twenty-minute segment, the score is tied 2-2. You watch, on tenterhooks, as Tom jumps the barrier on the side of the rink, swapping in for one of the players and taking his spot on the ice.

He’s antsy, as are the rest of the team. You know it’s an important match, and if they want a chance at continuing to the next stage of the competition, they need the result to swing in their favour. Your eyes are wide, fingers curled into fists as you watch Tom cut up the ice. The helmet on his head protects his skull, but you can make out a few strands of dark brown hair sticking out, and you find yourself struck with the very prominent and aching thought that you’d quite like to play with it.

The puck ends up at your end of the rink, and the Kingston Kites take on a defensive strategy as their opponents try to put pressure on the goalie and get in another shot. You find your eyes trained directly on Tom and startle as you catch him looking up at you. Through panting breaths, his lips quirk into a brief, tight smile of recognition, but then it sours as his eyes slip beside you and look at Tai. Your friend is sitting to your right, his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders, and you’re casually leaning into his side. It’s entirely platonic, but you don’t miss the way Tom’s eyebrows shoot up as his gaze hardens and his jaw sets with determination.

The whole interaction lasts less than a second, but as Tom refocuses on the game and hurtles after the puck, he seems more aggravated. You sit forward, gaining a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you shrug off Tai and stare at Tom. Your eyes follow him as he goes in hard, trying to wrestle the puck out from beneath his opponent’s stick. It looks to be a bit of a mess, and you hear everyone in your section gasp as Tom roughly elbows the other guy. He goes spinning with a yelp, and the referee blows on the whistle, pausing the game. There are a few yells of ‘Dutchy’, coupled with disgruntled hollering from the people around you as they question the referee’s decision to pause.

“Fucking hell,” Yelena murmurs, leaning forward on her elbows and staring across the ice. “Your guy is crazy.”

You suck in a breath, watching as the referee points at the penalty box and Tom stomps towards it. You can almost see the frustrated steam pouring from his ears.

“He’s… passionate.” You bite your lip. Somehow, you feel responsible for his outburst.

“Shit,” Tai mutters. He too leans forward, until all three of you are sitting there, elbows on your knees, staring at the penalty box. “That’s kind of hot.”

Your throat feels dry as you watch Tom throw his stick on the ground of the penalty box. Given all the walls are made of plastic, you have an unobstructed view as he pulls off his helmet and tosses it on a seat too. He marches a few paces up and down, speaking angrily to himself, his expression one of pure irritation. When he finally sits down, he runs a gloved hand through his hair, pushing away the sweaty strands that stick so deliciously to the top of his flushed forehead. You watch, your breath light and shallow, as Tom jerks off the glove and shoves his fingers into his mouth, pulling out his mouthguard before picking up a bottle and squirting a long stream of water into his open mouth.

“Fuck,” you murmur, eyes transfixed. There’s a heat in the pit of your stomach, building as you take in the way Tom’s glowing with a mix of exertion and anger. The match is continuing back on the ice, but you can’t stop looking at the hot flush of his cheeks and the angry lines of his flexed brows and curved jaw. “It is.”

A minute passes, and Tom slowly seems to chill out. It’s only as the seconds fall down into the 30s that he finally seems to release his tension, fixing his mouthguard, and his glove before glancing up at the stands. You’re surprised when, again, he looks directly at you, his entire demeanour shifting when he sees the concern in your eyes. His features soften, lips losing their angry frown and mellowing into a warmer smile, and you watch as his gaze grows fonder.

Yelena hits at your knee immediately. “He’s in love with you,” she announces, certainty in her voice.

You can’t stop looking at Tom, not even when he breaks contact with a wink and shoves his helmet back on.

“Shut up,” you murmur. “He’s not. We’re just friends.”

Tai cackles. “Fuck off,” he says. “Yelena’s right. Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

You sit up, glaring at him. “Like what?”

He smirks. “Like you want to jump each other.”

It’s hard to dispute that one, so instead, you just cross your arms over your chest and stare back at the ice. “You’re wrong, but okay.”

Yelena nudges your side. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Hmm?”

“Stay behind after the match and ask him.”

You swallow nervously, briefly looking at her. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” she promises. “But… If I am, I’ll let you style my hair for the rest of the season.”

Your eyes light up, and the way that Yelena smirks, you can tell she knows the offer is too good to refuse.

“Fine,” you agree. Your eyes shift back to Tom, watching as he vaults back over the barrier and joins his team. Apparently they’ve forgiven him for the penalty, as he’s welcomed back with firm pats on the back, and you can see his blinding smile from across the rink. “I’ll do it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

The Kingston Kites win the match, and the arena is quick to empty. You part ways with your friends as they head home and you end up wandering the changing rooms as you try to hype yourself up. There’s a text from Tom waiting on your phone, simply asking how you’d liked the game, so you respond and tell him that you’d much rather go over it in person. After agreeing to meet him outside his locker room, it’s just a waiting game.

You reapply your lipstick and mess around with your hair to kill the time. It’s a little eerie being alone in the skating changing rooms, and as time passes, you hear fewer people hovering around the arena as the players slowly leave the building. It’s hard not to get stuck in your head as you think about your plan to confess your feelings, so you end up pacing in the long corridor that winds between the skating changing rooms and the hockey locker room.

The corridor is bright white and decorated with various sporting memorabilia. Autographed jerseys, shining medals, and printed photographs hang framed on the walls. On your side of the corridor, you catch glimpses of yourself, wearing a tracksuit and hugging your friends, showing off your medals, mid-action on the ice… It makes you proud to see that your team has placed you so frequently in the collage, and you feel a swell of bittersweet gratitude in your chest as you look at snapshots of competitions gone by.

On the other side of the corridor is a similar spread for the hockey team. You stroke at your chin as you examine this season’s photos, skimming your eyes over the group shot and trying to spot the people that you know. When you see Tom, dead centre, grinning widely, it makes you smile.

“—I’m just saying, Dutch, something was going on with you tonight. It can’t happen again. We can’t have you losing focus at this stage in the competition.”

The sound of a gruff voice drifting up the corridor makes you startle, and you glance down to see two figures emerging from the locker room—Tom, and one of his coaches. Tom has traded his gear for a pair of blue jeans and a loose black hoodie, and you watch as he nods and looks at his coach with wide-eyed respect.

“Of course, Spike,” he responds, voice clear, open. “It won’t.”

You watch as Spike sighs, then gives Tom a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Good lad.” He walks back, then makes the okay sign with his fingers. “Your final goal was phenomenal, though. More of that next game, and less time in the penalty box. Got it?”

“Yes, coach.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

Tom grunts and the two separate. You watch as he tugs on the front strings of his backpack before turning, his face lighting up as he spots you, leaning against the wall. He quickly strides towards you, footsteps echoing against the cold passage.

“Hey,” Tom calls out, voice bouncing down the hall.

There’s an uncontrollable smile on your face as you stand up and walk to meet him halfway. Tom instinctively wraps you in a hug, lips catching on your cheek when he pulls away.

“Hi,” you reply, voice shy. Tom smells of shower gel and mint, his curls a little damp and darker than usual. “Congrats on the win.”

Tom smirks, nodding as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thanks, love. Did you enjoy it?”

You release a short laugh. If enjoyment equates to found it incredibly erotic, then, of course, the answer is,

“Yes. Loved it.” You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Did you get in trouble for the penalty box?”

He winces, grimacing at you with his teeth glinting. “A bit,” he admits. “Doesn’t matter though, ‘cos I scored a goal after. I just need to, um… Not do it again.”

The air between you is thicker, and you find yourself swallowing as you note the way Tom’s looking at you, eyes hungry.

“What happened?” You say, testing the waters tentatively. “You seemed fine, and then you got… Fired up.”

Tom swallows. “I… Just got tetchy.” He clears his throat. “Who, uh… Who were you at the match with?”

You smirk, realising that your hypothesis was right. “My friends. Yelena and Tai. They’re on the team with me.”

“Friends?” Tom confirms, expression perking up.

“Yeah. Friends.”

He steps closer. “Did they like the game?” he asks.

“Yeah. They thought you were hot.”

Tom chuckles, briefly glancing at the floor before drawing his eyes back to you. They linger on your lips, and your breath hitches as he tentatively, testingly reaches out and places his hands on your hips. When you sink into it, he grows bolder, pulling you closer until your faces are near. You love the way his hands feel as they rest on your waist.

“Did you?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you think I was hot?���

It’s hard to concentrate when Tom’s standing so close to you, looking at you with his eyes so intense, but somehow you manage to wrap your arms around his neck and nod. “Yeah,” you admit. You toy with his curls, giving them a short tug when he groans enjoyably. “I always think you’re hot.”

Tom wears his smirk so well that it’s almost infuriating.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asks, fingers softly caressing your sides. When you squeak out a noise of affirmation, Tom lets his nose brush up against yours. He swallows deeply, nervousness mixing with his teasing. “I think you’re stunning, too. All the time, but especially tonight, when you were sitting up there, wearing a team scarf and watching me play.”

“Oh,” you murmur. It’s hard to maintain eye contact with him when there’s so much going on in the depths of his gaze that it dizzies you. “Thank you.” Growing a little bolder, you let your fingers glide up, tangling in the ends of his hair. “It was fun watching you play. You’re really talented, Tom.”

His nose is still cold against yours, and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly traces patterns over your sides.

“Thanks, darling.”

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, you feel a shiver roll down your spine as the pet name falls from his lips. Usually, you’d be able to play it off from the cold, or like you’re stretching a muscle, but he’s holding you so close that you’re sure he felt it.

“Tom,” you say, voice hushed. You feel safe in his arms, you feel loved in his arms, but your skin is still crawling with built-up desire. There’s an ache in your chest that burns brighter with each second he lingers so close, but yet remains so far. “Do you want to…”

“What, sweetheart?”

Again, your breath catches. You hear Tom release a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, his lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as his lips, warm and slightly chapped, explore your own.

It’s a little fumbly, and it takes a few moments for you to learn the slopes of his face so intimately, but once you’ve both readjusted and altered your positions, it’s quick to heat up. Tom’s fingers grip your waist tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into his hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, you feel him slip his tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

You end up against the cool brick wall, making out like you’re both teenagers again. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. You moan softly as Tom pulls away from your mouth, his attention shifting to your neck. As you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to him, you whimper as you feel his lips drag over your exposed skin. He nibbles and suckles until he finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You tug on his air-dried curls, coaxing him back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of his mouth on yours. Tom sighs, and you can feel him smiling into it.

There are noises, coming from further down the hall, and when they increase in volume, Tom reluctantly pulls back from your mouth. He links your hands together and swings them through the air, looking up to meet your eyes. His face is cute, lips puffy and red, eyes dancing with hope.

“D’you want to—”

“Oi, Dutchy!”

You jump as a holler comes from down the hall, echoing off the vast brick walls. Tom’s expression shifts, his lips pursing as he glances down the corridor. He turns away from you to yell back.

“What?”

You think it’s Osterfield, one of Tom’s friends. He too is dressed casually, standing tall with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“We’re going out! Don’s got us the VIP section down at the Grove. C’mon!”

Tom looks torn, a ripe line carved out between his brows. He glances back at you, biting his lower lip.

“Go,” you urge, smiling softly. “Celebrate with your team.”

He frowns slightly. “Come with us?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, it should just be you guys.” As much as you like Tom, you can’t think of anything worse than going on a night out with the entire loud, boisterous hockey team. You smile encouragingly when you see the turmoil in his eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay here, and we can—”

You lean up, moving your hands back down to his shoulders as you kiss him very softly. “Go,” you urge, whispering against his thin lips.

Tom leans into you, keeping your lips pressed until you can feel him smiling into it. He begrudgingly steps back. “Thank you,” he says, “for coming to the game. And being so lovely.” His lips quirk a little taller. “And for letting me kiss you.”

“Well, it didn’t take much convincing.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the wall, your figure feeling colder without Tom’s touch. His eyes run the lines of your face, gaze warm and comforting.

“Have a nice night,” he says. There’s still hesitation on his face, so you step forward and kiss his cheek before gently pushing his shoulder.

“You too” you respond. Tom finally walks away, but only after shooting you a wink.

You lean back against the wall, pulling out your phone and staring at the blank screen as you discreetly keep your focus on Tom. When he reaches the end of the corridor, Osterfield thumps him on the back and murmurs something unintelligible which earns him a shove into the doorway as the two friends leave together. Tom glances back just before disappearing, and you smile at him as he waves his hand playfully.

Once alone, you release a tight sigh of contentment. You deflate, sagging against the wall as you feel your heart beating faster in your chest. Absently, one of your hands drifts up, fingertips resting on the outline of your lips. Your mouth is still warm from Tom’s kisses, and your heart feels a little softer, too.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You don’t see him for a while, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t constantly on your mind. At some point, Tom adds you to his private Instagram story, and it feels like a gentle confirmation that he feels the same way as you. You stay in constant contact, and he starts to send you more memes and silly texts each evening. The smile on your lips barely fades, and every time your phone lights up with a new text from him, you get excited.

Unfortunately, the high doesn’t last forever. All too soon, it’s a week before your first competition, and the good feeling finally goes away. As extended practices cut into your life, you’re left frazzled and stressed, trying to balance your team’s expectations against your own personal competitiveness. It doesn’t help that your ankle is giving you grief again.

“No, no, no. You’re better than this, Y/N! Stop cutting the spin too early. You have to extend it into the end of the beat!”

It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re exhausted. The bags beneath your eyes hang heavy, and every manoeuvre you try to execute just seems to leave you worse than before. You’re cold on the ice, and your bones are chilled from fatigue and stress. Everything aches, and try as you might, you can’t land the final ten seconds of your routine. Your coach has forced you to go over it again and again, minutes blurring to hours as your frustration festers.

“It’s not working,” you call back, reaching up to tug on your hair. Your coach is leaning against the rink barrier, resting on her elbows as she watches you, pursed lips.

“Do it again,” she encourages. “Faster!”

You grit your teeth, skating back into the centre of the ice. The music starts again, and you run through the entire final section, nailing the parts that you know. Yet, as you reach the big finish, you falter. You end up flat on the ice, frustrated tears burning your eyes as your ankle throbs. As the track cuts out again, you hear your coach’s loud sigh, carrying across the ice.

“Pack it in. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

You grimace as you climb back to your feet, wincing slightly.

“I can do it again,” you call back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You want to. You have to.

Your coach shakes her head, lips set in a firm line. “You can’t,” she responds. “You’re worn out and making mistakes. Your injury won’t sustain you.” She pauses to shake her head. “This isn’t what any of us want, Y/N, but you need to rest.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms as you grit your teeth. “But—”

“No. Go home.” Your coach pushes off from the barrier, shaking her head. When you fail to move, she turns back, arching a brow. “Go.”

A string of irritated cuss words falls quietly from your lips as you reluctantly skate from the centre of the rink. Your fingers go to your cheeks, wiping away the cool tears that fall from frustration. It’s a private session, but a few of your team are hanging around. Their sympathetic smiles and gentle arm pats make you bristle, and you’re silently seething as you stomp over to one of the benches and throw yourself onto it, groaning.

You lie down and stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to focus on your breathing. It’s just one bad training session. You’ve landed the end section of your routine plenty of times before. It’s just a bad day.

…But it’s also a bad day, one week before the first rounds of competitions, where a performance like the one you just gave would have you finishing in last place, your Olympic dreams crumbling to pieces.

You close your eyes, clenching your hands into fists as you stretch out over the bench. Your teammates know to give you space, so you aren’t sure why you feel a shadow falling across your face. You ignore it for a few moments, putting it down to someone unknown peering at you fleetingly, but when it persists, you pry an angry eye open.

“What— Tom?”

For the second time, you find yourself surprised by his presence. Tom is standing beside your bench, swallowed by a deep green hoodie with a blue denim jacket pulled over the top of it. In his hands are a stack of papers and his eyes are full of concern.

“Hi,” Tom says quietly, looking a little embarrassed. His cheeks are dusted light pink. You wonder how long he’s been staring at you for. “Are you okay? I, uh… I saw the end of your training.”

You feel rigid and breakable as his eyes pool with warmth, his gaze like tender sunbeams. When he steps closer and presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, your stress bubbles over. As you bring your knees to your chest, you press the side of your face into them, blinking up at him as a few tears skate down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, cooing softly. “Don’t cry, darling.”

Tom gently coaxes you up the bench and sits behind you, throwing a leg either side of the wood to straddle it. You let him pull you back into him, his arms feeling warm and strong as he hugs you tightly from behind. He burrows his face into your neck, warm hands going up to cup your cheeks as his fingertips carefully flick your tears away.

“I’m not sad,” you murmur, swallowing back another wave of tears. “I’m just annoyed.”

“I know.” Tom pauses, and you take a moment to breathe in the scent of fresh laundry. “It’s the most frustrating thing in the world when you can’t get something right. But if you work yourself into the ground, you won’t ever be able to do it.”

“But- but what if I want to work myself into the ground,” you mutter, causing him to chuckle.

“Then you’d be silly.” Tom kisses your cheek, his lips warm and light. “And you’re not silly. You’re the strongest athlete that I know, Y/N. You just need to let other people look after you. Let… Let me look after you.”

Your breath hitches and slowly, you pull your face away from your knees. You stretch your legs out in front of you and turn to look at Tom, curiosity in your gaze as you think about how close he’s holding you, and how passionately he’s speaking to you.

“Thank you,” you say, voice quiet. A shy smile curls across your lips.

Tom hums. His hands fall down to your shoulders, and he gently squeezes your arms. “Go have a shower,” he says. “You’ll feel better, and then I’ll look after you some more.”

You reach out, fingers twirling around the strings of his hoodie. “You’re too nice to me,” you murmur, shyly ducking away from his gaze. “How are you so perfect?”

He laughs, the sound so ripe and joyful that it brings warmth back to your chest.

“I’m not,” Tom disputes. “I just care about you.”

You hum, and before you can lose your cool, you lean in and softly kiss him. Tom’s still for a moment, but then he pushes closer, gently and delicately kissing you back. His hands swoop down to hold your waist, lightly stroking over your sides. When you pull away a few moments later, you feel steadier.

“Hmm,” you say, mind running slow, ensnared by the glimmers of warmth in his eyes. “I like kissing you.”

Tom chuckles, nose brushing yours. “I like kissing you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It turns out that Tom’s right—you do feel better after having a shower. As you find yourself in the deserted skating changing rooms, the sight of your troubles being swirled away down the plughole releases a large part of your stress. The hot water coaxes your good mood back, and it continues, even when you have to wrap up your ankle again.

By the time Tom reappears, knocking gently on the changing room door before entering, you feel better. You’ve changed clothes, washed your hair, cleansed yourself of all the bad energy that had clogged you up. You feel like you again.

“I got this for you,” Tom announces. He holds a disposable cup in his hand and presents it to you with a grin. “Hot chocolate, for m’lady.”

You roll your eyes as you accept it, looking up at him with gratitude warming your chest. “Thanks, Tom.”

He glances down, eyes taking in your form. You’re again stretched out on a bench, one of your legs bent at the knee, the other laying out in front of you. A few bandages hang around, and Tom looks at them curiously.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as he stares at your fluffy sock.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I braced it. Should be alright as long as I take it easy.”

Tom nods, then very slowly walks to the end of the bench. He runs his index finger down the bottom of your leg, his touch light but warm. You’re in a skirt, your legs bare and exposed, and as you take in the mischievous glint in his eye, you wonder what he has in mind.

“Y/N,” Tom starts, voice gentle. His fingertips play around with the top of your sock as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes. “Can I kiss it better?”

You’re breathing a little lighter as you look at him. “Yeah,” you agree. “Go ahead.”

Tom kneels on the floor, settling beside the bench with ease. With gentle fingers, he rolls down the top of your sock, just far enough so he’s able to leave a very soft kiss to your tender skin. He doesn’t linger there too long, his eyes fixed to your face, but his lips don’t leave you, either. Very carefully, taking his time, Tom starts to drop kisses to your skin. He gradually works his way further up your leg, dusting warm, open-mouthed kisses from your ankle to your shin, then your knee.

You shift on the bench as Tom starts to come higher, one of your hands drifting down to rest in his curls. You put the disposable cup on the floor as you watch him. There’s a heat slowly building in the pit of your stomach, and with each meeting of your flesh and Tom’s mouth, it grows more pronounced. It isn’t long before you’re parting your legs, his lips pausing at the bottom of your thigh as he changes from light kisses to deeper, needier sucks. A short whimper travels from your mouth, wobbling into the air as his lips draw the blood to the surface of your skin.

“You’re so pretty,” Tom murmurs, looking up at you from the ground. His eyes are wide, darkened with lust. He splays his hand along your neglected thigh, rubbing gentle circles to the skin. You whimper when he drops his tongue to lap over one of the marks he’s pulled to the surface of your skin. “Do you want me to go any higher?” His voice is raspy.

The space between your legs is throbbing, and immediately you nod. “The, uh, the door,” you murmur, voice shaking. Tom presses a final kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. He winks at you before jogging to the changing room door, easily flicking the lock, then coming back towards you. “Are you, um… Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Tom grins. He sinks down to his knees beside your head, his hands tugging the bottom of your legs. You sit up on the edge of the bench and turn as your thighs open over his shoulders. Tom kneels between them, his bed of brown curls complementing your skin tone nicely. He presses a kiss to your neglected leg before his hands carefully skim up to play with the hem of your skirt.

“I wouldn’t mind one bit,” he replies, his voice a little darker. He tilts his head as he meets your gaze, smirking softly. “I’d really like to. Do you want to know a secret, darling?” Tom’s fingers slide up, his index and his middle making contact with the front of your panties. As he traces delicately over the front of your core, small arcs of pleasure roll out from your centre. The way his lips twitch taller makes you wonder if he can feel the way your cunt seems to throb.

“Yeah,” you respond, voice light. A whimper passes through your lips as Tom applies a little more pressure to your covered clit, your hips gyrating down to meet his fingertips in response.

He pulls back, only to push your skirt out of the way, tutting quietly when you mewl.

“Been wondering what you’d taste like for ages, love,” he coos. He uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer, and you moan when he buries his head between your legs. Your panties are still on, but that doesn't stop Tom from nosing up against your slit, hot breath fanning out across your warmth. When he draws his tongue over the front of your panties, you release a breathless whine. “Bet it tastes as pretty as you are.”

You reach down and bury your hand back into his curls, pulling Tom closer as he ghosts his tongue over the front of your panties. He’s lapping lightly up your slit, the pleasure muted but still there, and your eyes fall shut as the muscles in your thighs tense.

“Fuck, Tom,” you whine, feeling your cunt pulse. “Take them off. I need more.”

His nimble fingers are quick to follow your instructions, and as soon as your hips are falling back to the bench, his mouth is on you. You cry out as you finally feel him, the pleasure direct and far greater than you’d expected. Tom devours you, using both of his thumbs to press your lips apart as his tongue travels all over your heat. He spends a while focusing on your clit, the tip of his tongue firm and unrelenting, but when you start to whine a little louder, he teases you by drawing away. He flattens his tongue and licks a few broad strokes up your centre, moaning against you until you’re fisting at his hair and shaking.

“Fuck,” you whine, voice barely there. “Feels so good.”

Tom’s complete attention is on you and your eyes roll back when he teases your entrance with his mouth. One of his thumbs rolls up to toy with your clit as he pushes his tongue into you, your walls throbbing as he explores you. You push him deeper, obscenities mixing with slurred acclamations of his name, and it’s as though you can feel your pulse hammering in your head.

“Knew it. Tastes like fucking heaven,” Tom murmurs, pulling away from your entrance to shoot you a smirking smile. He brings two fingers to your pussy and teases you there, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead when you moan and rut down against them, taking agency and fulfilling your desires. “Shit, baby. You’re so wet.” He fucks your heat, eyes moving off your face and fixing on the mess between your legs as he coos. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers. Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” you whine. When Tom drops his head and wraps his lips back around your clit, you cry out. “Getting so close,” you say, words tangling together as your chest heaves. You feel so hot, your body trembling as your edge hangs in sight. “Keep going, f-fuck, Tom. You’re so good.”

He adds a third finger to your heat, and your jaw slackens. Tom changes the angle of his digits a few times before curling them just right, and he continues to stroke up against your g-spot as you cry out. You stammer out a few words of warning, and he moans in response. The vibrations of the sound coupled with the way his tongue is applying the perfect amount of warm, sloppy pressure to your clit push you over the edge. As you peak, you fall back onto your elbows, tightening your grip on his hair as your pussy throbs, taking wave after wave of pleasure as it rocks across you and smothers you.

Tom doesn’t stop until you’ve ridden it out completely and you’re sensitive. With a push at his hair, you coax him away, still trying to gather yourself as your throat feels dry. The expression of cocky fulfilment hanging from his lips makes you shiver, and you almost moan again as you take in the sight of his chin, glistening with your arousal.

“How was that?” he asks, cleaning his chin with the back of his hand. Tom carefully stands up, still looking at you as he leans back and picks up a box of tissues from one of the benches. He passes a few to you then leans back against one of the lockers, looking at you admiringly with his arms crossed.

“Really good,” you manage, voice still a little hoarse. You clear your throat and ignore his chuckle as you take care of the mess between your legs with a tissue. Your eyes soften when you look back to him. “Thank you.”

Tom just nods, taking the used tissues and binning them before making a quick stop by a sink to wash his hands. When he strolls back over, he stands in front of you and cups your cheeks in his palms. You stare up at him, smiling as he meets your eyes.

“Glad I could make you feel nice,” he says, voice soft. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now… If you have time, I want to take you home. Run you a nice bath, make you some lunch. Make sure you’re looking after yourself.”

You feel your face warm as you listen to his musings, and find yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “You’d want to do all that for me?”

Tom nods. His hands run over your face, fingertips gently caressing your cheekbones. It’s as if he’s examining you, trying to ensure that you’re okay, that you’re safe, that you’re happy. It makes your heart soar.

“‘Course, darling. I care about you a lot.”

You tilt your head to the side so you can kiss the inside of his palm. “Okay,” you agree. You stand up, wincing slightly as your ankle disagrees with taking your weight. Tom’s hands move down to hold your waist, steadying you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You start to walk, only to look back at him and glare jokingly. “Can’t believe you ruined my underwear,” you say. “Feels fucking freezing without them on.”

Tom arches a brow, picking up his bag and slinging it over his back before catching up to you. “Um, I think technically it was you who ruined your underwear.”

You scrunch up the tip of your nose, only for your scowl to melt when he kisses it. When you reach the door, you undo the lock and open it, letting Tom through before following him out into the corridor.

“Whatever,” you reply, sinking into his side. His hand is warm in yours, your fingers tangled together nicely. “Worth it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s noisy in the arena.

With the final match of the season underway and the league title up for grabs, the atmosphere is electric. The stands are packed, frenzied by the presence of the large broadcasting cameras that stream the match live to thousands online. Sitting in the home section, the noise seems louder than it would be elsewhere in the arena. Everyone around you is as invested in the result as you are, and as the energy rises and falls, you feel connected to the mass of strangers around you. You know that they share the ache in your fingers built from the tight clenching of your knuckles into fists, and the strain of your eyes as you spend too long staring at the bright white ice.

The score is 4-4. The players from both teams have been giving some of the most convincing performances of their careers. It’s been close all match.

You hadn’t been sure that you’d be able to make the game, your own days filled with the later stages of your competition, but you’re glad you managed to swing it. Tom needs you.

He’s skating well. He’d assisted one of the team’s goals, and managed to subvert several other shots on goal attempted by his rivals. Tom looks as handsome as ever, face flushed, eyes focused, figure bulked wide with protective padding, but you know he’s nervous. He’s looking up at you more than usual, his teeth gritted together, and his jaw tensed. It’s clear just how much the title means to him.

It’s been a few weeks since Tom came and picked you up after your meltdown at practice, and since then, your feelings for him have escalated. You think it must be a form of torture to watch someone you care about so much getting pushed around, and injured, and hurt on the ice, knowing you can’t do anything but sit and watch it play out in front of you. Every time he gets slammed up against one of the plastic wall barriers, you wince, almost feeling the pain yourself, and despite him always brushing it off and getting on with the game, you worry for him.

“Fucking hell. That looks like it hurts.”

Beside you is Harry, one of Tom’s brothers. You’d met him before the match when Tom had thrust a ticket at you and told you that he’d wrestled it off one of his other brothers. Your guilt had been assuaged when you’d been told that Paddy finds the finals too stressful to sit through. Harry’s been entertaining you all evening, acting as a buffer between you and his parents, who make you feel nervous being so close to.

“Shit,” you agree. You wince as Tom gets barged into and goes spiralling across the ice, only stopping when one of his teammates catches him. “This is actually brutal.”

Harry makes a low humming noise. He turns to glance at you, then he hesitantly reaches down to pat your knee.

“He’ll be fine, though, Y/N,” he says, speaking a little awkwardly. “It’s uh… just part of the job. He’s used to it. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s broken his nose.”

You hum as you think about the wonky lines of Tom’s face. “True,” you agree. You pull your team scarf further around your figure, snuggling into it in search of relief. “Just isn’t nice to see him hurt.”

Harry makes a humming sound of agreement and releases your leg with a final pat. The game continues, and before you know it, they’re into the last third. As the clock ticks down from 20 minutes, things are tense. Tom blurs with the rest of the team, and your eyes skim around all the figures, moving and spinning across the ice like it’s choreographed. There’s something quite beautiful about how they’re able to execute formations and manoeuvres amidst such chaos.

Your eyes stick to the back of Tom’s jersey, screaming Holland in bright orange. He’s closing in on an opponent, trying to steal the puck with gritted teeth. The air leaves your lungs as the scene plays out in slow motion, your eyes widening to the size of gold coins as you watch the larger man smack the puck with ferocity, attempting a shot on goal before Tom manages to steal it. Instead of the puck flying near the goal, the angle flicks it to the side, and the entire section around you gasps as it soars through the air and collides with Tom’s face. His eyes are fine, given the visor on his helmet, but his nose is exposed, and it bears the brunt.

Your heart stills for a moment, the volume of the arena fading out completely as you see Tom go down, clutching at his nose as a trail of blood drips over the ice. There’s the sound of a whistle, and you only start to breathe again when you see one of Tom’s teammates haul him from the rink. His blood freezes to the ice, leaving a trail of dark marks staining the ground behind him.

“Fuck, fuck,” you find yourself saying, finally tearing your eyes away from Tom to stare at Harry. Tom’s brother is wincing. “What do we do?”

Harry shrugs, grimacing. You look back to the ice to where Tom’s being dragged on his skates back to the team bench. You can see him smiling, but it's indisputable that he’s in pain. You can see it in his eyes, and the way his blood mixes with the salty blend of aching tears. “Can’t really do anything,” he says. “Told you his nose gets it.” Harry pauses for a moment, then gently elbows your side. “You could go down, though. They’ll probably do a quick fix in the tunnel. I doubt he’ll want to be benched for the rest of the match.”

You nod stiffly, but find yourself hesitating. “Are you, uh, sure that he’d want that? It wouldn’t be annoying?” When Harry turns to raise an eyebrow, you chuckle nervously. “I don’t want to knock him out of the zone, y’know?”

Harry’s eyes fill with understanding, but you think you can still detect a layer of teasing to it. “My brother is actually obsessed with you,” he says. “He watches compilation videos from your competitions every single bloody night. Even if you broke his heart, I doubt he’d ever be able to find you annoying. So…” Harry pokes your shoulder. “Get down there, alright?”

You shoot him a smile, unable to pretend that his words don’t warm your heart.

The game is still paused, yet you hurry down the aisle, stepping over trays of discarded nachos and half-filled plastic pints of beer as you utter words of apology to the disgruntled fans. Moving quickly, you dodge up and enter one of the back stairwells, flashing your team ID at security. The arena is a complex system of back corridors and passages, but you know them inside out.

You reach the long corridor that connects the changing rooms to the ice, and you see Tom standing in the middle of it. He’s surrounded by people—doctors, his coach, a few reserve players. Out in the arena, you hear the game pick up, but back here, time is standing still.

“Stay still,” one of the medics says. Tom grumbles something before yelling out a light curse word. The closer you walk, the more you see. Tom’s holding a bunch of stained tissues to the bottom of his nose as the medic quickly bandages his bridge. It’s not advised for him to go back on the ice with a broken nose—but you also know that with ten minutes left on the clock, the patchy fix-it job probably won’t cause permanent damage. You quite like Tom’s wonky nose, anyway.

“He’s such a twat,” Tom grumbles, wincing again. “Did he get benched?”

“Yeah. Penalty.”

“Good.” Tom folds his arms over his chest. When the medic pulls away to dig through his bag of bandages, Tom glances up the corridor. His eyes widen as he sees you, and you watch him do a double-take. When you raise a hand in greeting, his face softens. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” you call out, stepping closer. “Is it okay I’m here? I, um… I was worried.”

He nods, only to receive a scolding from the medic. Smiling sheepishly, Tom beckons you closer. He offers you a hand, gloveless and cold, and you hurry forward to take it.

“‘Course,” he murmurs. Now close, you’re able to see the flecks of dried blood on his face. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says, speaking softly as if he knows how frazzled you feel. “Happens all the fucking time.”

“Mmm. Harry said so.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? How is he? Looking after you?”

You chuckle. “He’s funny,” you say. You roll your thumb over the back of Tom’s knuckles as he winces again, the medic pushing his ice pack out of the way so he can dab a wet tissue at Tom’s nostrils. You realise that his nose has stopped bleeding.

“Funnier than me?”

“Never.” You squeeze Tom’s hand. “You’re doing well out there.”

“Thanks, darling.” Tom glances away from you, looking back at the medic as he finally steps away to gather his stuff. “Can I-?”

“Yes,” the medic confirms. “Just don’t touch anyone. The second you’re done, come find me and I’ll fix you properly.”

Tom nods, then bites back a noise of pain. “Thanks, Doc,” he murmurs. Tom looks back to you, dropping his voice as you’re left alone with him. “I, uh, I gotta go,” he says, tilting his shoulder back in the direction of the ice.

“Okay.” You shoot him a soft smile and squeeze his hand before stepping back. “Good luck, Tom. Smash it.”

He pouts slightly, a wedge forming between his brows. “Kiss?”

“Kiss?” you repeat, snorting softly. When Tom nods sadly, you step nearer and press your hands to his shoulders. You lean up and capture his lips in a warm kiss, smiling into it as his palms paw at your waist. For a very brief moment, you get lost in it, overcome by the round lines of his chapped mouth and the heat of his hands, but you force yourself to step back. You can feel how badly he wants to be out on the ice. “Good luck, handsome,” you say, whispering against his lips. You step back and cross your arms, smiling widely as he blushes. “You’ve got this.”

Tom gives you a final nod, eyes alight. “See ya in ten!” he says, before turning on his skates. You stay watching him until he reaches the end of the corridor, and the smile is still on his face as he turns back to grin at you. The arena goes wild as he reappears, and you find yourself biting your lips as you try to control the butterflies in your stomach.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom lives about twenty minutes from the arena, and you find yourself waiting on his front step. With your knees pulled to your chin, the chill of a March evening cools your face. You don’t feel the cold much—instead, you’re distracted by the images of the team winning, playing on loop in your mind.

It’s a blur. A snapshot collection of Tom scoring the tie-breaking goal, the sight of the crowd going wild as the final buzzer sounded, the spray of champagne foam sticking to the ice. You’d hung around afterwards, receiving a very messy kiss from Tom who was vibrating from excitement. After a round of celebratory photos, Tom had been hunted down by the medics, and he’d pulled you aside briefly to ask you to meet him here.

You sigh as you stretch your legs out in front of you, looking down at the laces of your shoes and how they contrast the dark cement paving stones. Tom shares his house with Harrison and Harry. You’ve been here a few times, and it feels odd to be here without him.

“Y/N!”

You startle as you look up, so distracted by the loops of your laces that you’d failed to see Tom. He finishes clambering out of a large car, and you think you catch a glimpse of Harry in the front before it goes speeding away from the pavement. Tom approaches, his nose bruised but free of bandages, a wide smirk on his face as he picks up into a light jog. When he reaches you, he sweeps you to your feet, taking your hands firmly and kissing you before you have a chance to say a word. You shiver as he reaches up to cup your cheeks, craving the body heat, sinking into him and the scent of his fresh shampoo.

“You’re shivering,” Tom murmurs, pulling back to stare at you. His eyes widen as guilt shadows his features. “Fuck, how long have you been waiting for me?” He steps back to dig through his pocket, tongue settling between his lips as he hums.

“Ten minutes,” you estimate. When his eyes widen, you shrug bashfully. “Hasn’t been that bad. Next door’s cat came and said hi.”

Tom scowls as he steps past you, driving his key into the front door with ease. “Little ratty thing, isn’t it?” he mutters. He opens the door with a flourish, then steps aside to invite you in. When you walk across the threshold, Tom winds his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin to your shoulder before tilting his lips so he can kiss your cheek. His warm breath fans out across your face. “I’ll warm you up, darling. I’ll make you feel better.”

Ten minutes later, you’re in his bed. Despite his promise of warming you up, you seem to be losing more and more clothes. What had started out as a celebratory kiss has ended in you straddling him, grinding over Tom’s crotch as he gasps into your mouth and grabs at your waist.

You like being on top. It gives you better access to Tom—to the sight of his face constricting with pleasure every time you grind a little harder, and to the sound of his small moans. There’s a shadow along his nose and lining the swell of his cheeks from the break in his nose, and if he wasn’t so tender, you’d try to kiss it better. Instead, you decide to make him feel better in a different way. He’s calmer now than he’d been at the arena when he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you or his lips away from your neck, but the longer you spend making out with him, the more eager he gets. There’s a dark spark in his eyes that matches the fervour in his grip.

“God,” he murmurs to your lips. “You’re such a beautiful girl.”

A hot flush travels through your body, and you shy your face into his neck. You distract him with kisses, dragging your lips over the firm flesh of his warm skin.

“Can I mark you?” you whisper, dragging your lips up to his ear. Tom moans loudly as you move your teeth over his earlobe and bite lightly.

“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, rolling his hips up against you. You’ve ditched your jeans, and so has he, but where you’re still draped in a shirt, Tom’s chest is bare and exposed. You run your hand over his arm and feel his muscles there as you kiss up the side of his neck. Deep marks follow in the wake of your lips, but they aren’t nearly as pretty as the sound of Tom’s moans. “Fuck, darling. Shit. Feels so good.”

Tom lasts about a minute more before growling and pushing you from his neck. His eyes glint and a shrill squeal leaves your lips as he picks you up and presses you down onto the mattress. As your back sinks into the bed, the slats creak. Tom cages you in with a forearm either side of your head, one of his hands drifting into the ends of your hair as he very lightly rests his nose against yours.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” Your smile twists a little darker as Tom rolls his hips against yours and you feel his cock straining against his boxers. You reach up to play with his hair, tugging on the strands when Tom moans. His curls are fresh and fluffy, air-dried after the shower and silky smooth to touch. You’ve been together a few times since he ate you out in the changing rooms, and though you’re yet to go all the way, you’ve picked up on a few of his preferences. “Are you okay?”

He isn’t doing much, just staring at you, lips parted. His eyes skitter across the shapes of your face before linking up with your own, and you feel your heart clench in your chest as Tom shifts his hand to cup your cheek.

“Just thinking,” he murmurs. He’s speaking quietly, voice gentle as if he’s being fragile with you. “I, um… I want to ask you something?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Right now?” you ask. To prove your point, you snake a hand down between your bodies and apply pressure to his member with the flat of your palm. Tom groans, eyelashes fluttering out across the top of his cheeks. It seems to take him a lot of self-control to nod, and you feel his hips quiver as he holds himself back from grinding into your hand.

“Yeah.” Tom takes a moment to pause. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, Y/N, and I really like you. I think that you’re so talented. And beautiful. Shit, you’re really beautiful.” He chuckles, his nerves showing on his face. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I wouldn’t ever want to be with anyone else. So, darling… Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He pulls back to peer at you, teeth clenched, eyes wide.

A smile breaks out across your face.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Tom,” you whisper. You lean up to kiss him just as he leans down, and you gasp as you accidentally hit Tom’s nose with yours. He groans, pulling up and dramatically falling onto his back as his limbs splay out. “Shit,” you giggle, sitting up and crawling closer. Tom’s pouting, tenderly poking at the edge of his nostril as he grimaces. “Sorry, baby.”

Tom melts, pulling you back on top of him. “Call me baby again and you can do anything you want to me,” he mutters. A small blush finds his face as he comprehends his words, and you end up smiling softly as you settle over his thighs. One of his large hands curls between your legs and you whimper as he teases you over your panties for a few moments. When he finally dips his fingers beneath the silky material, you find yourself whimpering.

“Feels good,” you moan, pressing your hands to Tom’s chest as he rolls two fingers around your slit. You get antsy and grind down against his touch, wriggling up his legs until his fingertips nudge against your hole.

His hair is spread out against the white sheets of the bed, face screwed into an expression of concentration as he curves his digits into your heat. You whimper, tossing your head back as he works you open with ease, brushing up against your g-spot and stimulating it until you’re gasping. As heat slowly begins to take over your body, you reach down to the hem of your shirt and pull it off. Next to go is your bra, and you guide Tom’s other hand to the curve of your breasts as you ride down on his hand.

“Look so pretty up there,” he murmurs, biting at his lip. “Like an angel, or a princess.” Tom skims his thumb over your nipple, smirking as you whine. “My princess.”

You gnaw on your lip for a moment before sitting up, letting Tom’s fingers slip out from you. You reach down and hook your thumbs beneath the material of his boxers, and Tom seems to get the hint.

“I need you,” you say, speaking quickly. You have to roll away to kick off your pants, and by the time you’re ready, Tom’s sitting up again. He slides up to sit against the headboard, fiddling with a condom and sheathing himself before you can spend too long admiring his length.

“C’mere then, lovie,” Tom coaxes. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before hitting at his thighs, beckoning you forward. His lips kiss your forehead as you straddle him. Blindly, you reach down to cover his hand in yours, and together, you guide his tip to your entrance. Your slit is hot and pulsing, your body worked up from the teasing and the anticipation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, voice softer.

You shoot him a teasing look. “Yes,” you emphasise. You bite your lip as you slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping softly. “Been thinking about this for so long, Tom.”

Tom grasps your lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it harshly before flicking it up and stealing your mouth in a deep kiss. You moan as you settle there, in his lap, your walls stretched around him completely. You can feel everything—the curves of his cock, the press of his tip against your velvety walls, the feeling of his skin on yours. You love it.

It’s quick to become hot and intense. Tom’s hands on your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The stretch burns to enjoyment before long, and then you’re just lost in it. You feel so bare to him, beyond the fact that your naked bodies are intertwined so closely, like he’s able to see straight through you. For someone who spends so much of his life fighting aggressively, Tom is remarkably soft. His hips are firm, and his thrusts unrelenting, but his lips on your face are warm, and the words of heated affirmation he whispers into your ear make you melt.

“So tight, princess,” Tom moans, grasping at your waist. He kisses you, groaning into your mouth as you continue to ride him. You alternate your movements, swapping between deep bounces and swirling your hips in broad circles so that you get to feel every delicious line, bump and curve of him. “God. Feels like fucking heaven.”

“I know,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re not embarrassed by the way there are wet sounds of arousal filling the air—it only seems to spur Tom on as he squeezes at your waist.

Things blur quickly. You can tell that he’s wound up from the stress of the game, and his hand is shaking when he reaches up to cup the top of your heat. You’re quick to match his arousal, feeling your own climax jerking closer as Tom brings his thumb down to your clit. You’re aroused, and your slit is wet, so it’s seamless as he toys with the bud.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, the syllables blurring as your eyelids drop closed. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and his begins, but you like it. Tom wraps his other arm around your hip and holds you close, touching his lips to yours as he finally spills.

“You’re so perfect,” he moans, his eyes screwing shut. “Shit, Y/N—”

The action of him throbbing against your walls pushes you over the edge too, and you’re panting into him as warm shivers spread over your entire figure. You’re full of a golden buzz as you stop moving, stilling with his cock still pressed inside you. Tom’s lips come down over the top of your head, following in a line from your forehead down your nose before going to your lips. When he finds your mouth, both of you are smiling.

“Wish we could do that forever,” he murmurs. “Felt amazing, darling. You’re amazing.” There’s a rosy flush to his cheeks, and he looks at you like he’s won the greatest prize of the night. “Stay?”

“Overnight?”

“Yeah. Right here.” Tom reaches out to hit the mattress. “I’ll cuddle you,” he promises. “Make you tea. Bring you breakfast.” He smirks. “Make love to you all night.”

You roll your eyes.

“Okay, boyfriend,” you agree.

Tom raises a brow as if he likes the sound of that, then seals the deal with a softer kiss.

“Perfect.” His hands skim up to cup your breasts, and he pecks your lips a final time. “Girlfriend.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

There’s an hour to go before you skate in the biggest competition of your life. You’re at the largest arena in London, killing time on one of the practice rinks as you try to forget that you’re so close to delivering your final routine of the season. This routine will decide if you come out on top or not and reveal whether you’ve managed to impress the Olympic talent scouts.

You feel a blend of two very fine emotions—confidence and nervousness. You’re prepared, you’re in control, and you’re ready, but that doesn’t make the prospect of going out there any less daunting. Adrenaline soothes the nerves, and distraction is your best friend.

Tom’s sitting on one of the benches, flitting between watching you and messing around on his phone. You’ve learnt that he’s the only person you like to be around before a competition, and in the month you’ve been officially together, he’s become your rock. He seems to get you—understands the way your brain spins when you’re stressed like this, knows when to step near and when to leave you alone. As if sensing your thoughts lie with him, he glances up from his phone.

The month off from competitions has been kind to Tom. He’d had a cracking set of bruises following his broken nose, but they’re healed now, and his skin carries the golden glow of a champion. After mouthing a few words to him from across the ice, you watch him sit up straighter and put his shoes to the bench. Tom had brought his skates to the arena, despite not being the one competing, because he knows, just as you, that sometimes the best way to relax before a competition is to mess around and distract yourself. Sitting beside him is a very large banner, hand-painted, that wears the words, Go Y/N!. He’d made it with the rest of his team, and you’d almost cried when he’d unrolled it and given it to you, grinning with pride like a small child showing off his art project.

You do a few spins as you wait for him, the small practice arena blurring. A few other people are hanging around—mainly your friends, and a few coaches, but none of them pay attention to you. You go so fast that you miss whatever it is Tom scoops up from the bench and then proceeds to hold behind his back, keeping it out of your sight as he skates towards you. A frown finds your lips as you drift nearer, squinting your eyes.

“What’s that?” you ask, trying to make out the object.

Tom juts out his lower lip, eyes dancing teasingly. “Not gonna say hello, darling? That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”

You shoot him a poisonous look but sigh when he just smirks in response.

“Hello,” you say. You skate forward, planting your hands on both of his cheeks and drawing him in close. Tom’s lips are warmer than yours, and you savour their firm press. When you pull back, you cross your arms over your chest. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes first.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Begrudgingly, you shut your eyes. You hear the rustling of plastic, and then smell the scent of fresh flowers. Tom presses a bouquet into your hands, and your lips twist up at the corners.

“You can open them now.”

It’s a bunch of roses, dark red and delicate. You trail a thumb over their petals, breath caught in the back of your throat. Your boyfriend continues to speak as he watches you.

“You said that no one had ever bought you flowers before,” he explains, voice steady. “I was going to save them for afterwards when you win, but I know you’ll end up being given about a thousand when they all see how talented they are, so I wanted to get in first.”

You look up at him, tears blurring your waterline.

“They’re beautiful, Tom,” you whisper. His confidence in you, and the support he shows you, every single day, means everything to you. He means everything to you. “I love them. I…” You look up, meeting his eyes as you finally speak the words that you’ve felt so strongly but kept tucked away in your heart for fear of rejection. You aren’t scared anymore. “I love you.”

Tom’s eyes widen, his lips briefly parting. There’s a heart-stopping moment when he betrays nothing, but then life twitches across his face. He relaxes, sinking forward to touch your waist as he pulls you closer and brings his lips to yours.

“I love you too, darling,” he says. He’s able to press his nose against yours now, and you feel his cold tip press to your face as you shift the bouquet into one hand and curl the other around his back. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

You smile against him. “It was lucky, wasn’t it? That out of all the people on the rink that day, it was me you managed to crash into.”

Tom chuckles. “Felt less like luck at the time,” he admits. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

You smirk. “I was pretty mad. Can you blame me, though?”

“Nope.” Tom kisses the tip of your nose. “Worth it, anyway.” He surprises you by skating back, plucking the bouquet from your hand with ease before spinning you beneath his arm, cooing as the hem of your dress flutters in the air. “Did I ever tell you how much I love your outfit?” he adds. “You look like a princess.”

Your cheeks hurt, and when you stop spinning, you turn to face him.

“I feel like a princess,” you admit, accepting the flowers for the second time. “Does that make you my prince charming?”

Tom nods, smiling. “It’d be an honour.”

The air between you stills, and all that’s left is love.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, glancing down. “What if I fuck this up? What if I fall over? Or- or what if I don’t land a jump? What if my ankle can’t take it?” You gnaw on your lip. “Then it’ll all be over.”

Tom soothes you with a hand on your cheek. “You won’t fuck it up,” he says, voice confident. “You’re incredible, Y/N. You know the routine, and you know yourself. You’re ready for this.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting warmly. “You’re going to go out there, smash it, then you’ll come back, and we’ll celebrate. Alright?”

You look down at the roses, then back to your boyfriend’s face, and you know that you believe him.

“Okay,” you agree. You bite your lip before darting up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Tom.”

His eyes are full of adoration. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I love you too.”

Tom presses his forehead to yours, and you relax there. With your fingers grasping the flowers and his hands caressing your waist, you let him support you. You let him kiss you, and hold you, and love you.

(And, later on, you let him hold your shiny gold medal, too.)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

i hope you guys liked dutchy as much i liked writing him :’)) this has taken almost a month! if there’s any interest, maybe we could do a hockey!tom blurb night soon...? idk ! i’d be down. let me know if you’d be too <3 thanks so much for reading!!!! please let me know what ya think!

mlist and taglist can be found through the link in my bio!

[writteninkat]

Switched | Itadori Yuji x reader x Sukuna

summary: fucking yuji means a passionate night until sukuna decides to be an asshole and switches with your boyfriend half way through sex.

F!reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: 18+, name calling

author's note: i've been thinking of this since i last closed the app and i knew i just had to write it

You've been horny all night.

Your boyfriend, Itadori Yuji, is wearing a simple plain white dress shirt which he folded up right below his elbows. He has two buttons undone and the shirt is tucked in black dress pants, his long legs causing for his ankles to show right above the black boat shoes he has on his feet.

He finished the look with a white silver watch on his left wrsit. Honestly? You could feel your cunt already dripping just by the way your boyfriend looked while the two of you were still at the apartment.

As the group; Nobara, Gojo, Nanami and Yuji sang happy birthday for Megumi, you're busy rubbing your thighs together, proving for the action to be a bit more difficult than it actually is when you're seated.

Megumi blows his candles and everyone cheers, clapping their hands as they begin to dig into the food. You try distracting yourself, scooping in a few scoops of food on your plate but it is all for naught when Yuji leans over, giving you a chance to get a whiff of his cologne.

A strong strawberry scent with a little bit of sweet vanilla and a hint of bold wood. The scent doesn't smell like it goes everywhere at all- it all smells so good together. Yuji uses his chopsticks to place some strips of beef on your food, your gaze immediately on his forearm- veins feintly protruding from under his light skin. The silver around his wrist doesn't help at all and it makes you feel as if you are this horny teenager again.

"Eat up." Yuji smiles, his eyes smiling with him. You force your lips to stretch, sending him a big smile back before eating your food, deciding to forget all about your thoughts by stuffing food in your mouth.

It works.

Well, more or less. You haven't had a single dirty thought about your boyfriend ever since uou began eating, and now Nobara is currently singing her heart off as Gojo and the birthday boy himself are dozing side by side on the end of the couch. Nanami is busying himself by sipping on his drink, a smile feint on his lips as he watches and listens to Nobara sing, looking like how a proud father would.

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, doesn't look too good.

"You okay, babe?" You ask, leaning in to squeeze his forearm softly. He snaps out what seems to be in a caging gaze he was in, looking at you. Yuji smiles, hand fluing on yours to give it a good, reassuring squeeze. "I'm good, baby. Just a little tired, I guess."

You furrow your brows, definitely not buying his lies. "Just tell me. The faster you tell me the faster we can solve the problem." You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

Yuji's eyes slowly and uncontrollably begin traveling down your chest, gaze glossing over your evident cleavage, moving again even much lower, his eyes taking note of how the black dress you're wearing is hugging every curve on your body perfectly.

Yuji leans in, his strong cologne scent causing the butterflies in your stomsch to go insane. "That dress has been driving me crazy the whole night." Your boyfriend's hot breath fans over the shell of your ear, casuing goosebumps to rise all over your body. "Take it off for me, please?"

You breath in a deep and shaky breath, closing your eyes to try and convince yourself not to strip naked in front of your friends and teachers right here on the spot. You stand up abruptly, catching Nanami's attention.

"We gotta go, Yuji has a really bad stomach ache." The corners of your mouth pull down into a fake frown which Nanami buys, nodding his head and waving the both of you off. You take Yuji's hand and pull him out of the Kareoke room, your heels loud as you stomp your way out of the building and to the parking lot.

As you find your car, you pull the front seat's door open only for it to be closed shut again by your boufriend. Yuji pulls you closer by your waist, making you can feel how hard he is inside his pants.

"We're not doing it here."

"My car's windows are tinted." He bites on your ear.

You keep telling yourself not to do it, to just wait until the both of you gets home but Itadori jr. seems to be having other plans for tonight. You sigh, walking over to the back door and pulling it open. As soon as you bend over to get in, Yuji pushes you and slams the door behind him.

The cold winter nights of Japan has the interior of the car all cool and comfortable. Yuji spins you around by your waist, running both of his hands on either sides of your waist. He breathes out deeply, eyes scanning hungrily over your form. His hands begin to make their way down your thighs, he leans in to give you a soft peck on the lips. Yuji looks into your eyes at first before leaning back in to envelope you into a deep kiss, his tongue skillfully brushing and sliding against yours as he sucks on it softly. His breathing his ragged as he feels your body all over, your legs instinctively opening and moving up his hips. Yuji presses his hard member against your clothed cunt, grinding on it for some kind of friction before pulling away when he feels just how soaked you are down there.

He reaches a hand under your dress, pressing two fingers on your wet cunt making you mewl. You've been holding it in for too long and now you're just very sensitive. The corner of his mouth twitches up, "Have you been wet for me the entire night, baby?"

You don't trust your voice, you can't. You know it'll sound needier than you actually are, you know it'll set Yuji off to start teasing you, so you nod your head, your face contorting as you feel him slip a finger between your folds.

He leans forward, hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin on the side of your neck. Yuji's warm tongue runs up the skin once, twice- he's adding another digit into your wet hole and you almost cum at the spot when he nibbles on your soft skin.

"I'll take very good care of you tonight." He presses his soft lips on the nibbled part of the skin, slowly trailing kisses up to your cheek and finally back onto your lips.

You couldn't think straight- your head was full of the boy. You absolutely loved about him; his strawberry pink hair, when he smiles with his eyes, how he can never go through a day without cuddling you at least once, how he does his best to give you anything you want, how he's one of your biggest inspirations in life. This boy- no, this man is someone you can imagine waiting for you at the end of the isle, hot tears streaming down his face as he waits for you at the end of the path, looking at you as if you were the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on- yes, even more beautiful than Jennifer Laurence.

Aoi would be right beside him, rubbing a hand on his back as he tries to soothe his best friend's sobs.

You snap out of your daze when you notice your boyfriend looking deeply into your eyes, a soft blush caressing his cheeks as he studies your face ever so lovingly. "I love you." You tell him.

His blush darkens as he leans into you, pressing his lips once again on yours. "I love you too." You feel the head of his cock press against your entrance for a bit before entering you completely.

You let out a soft whine, arching your back as your lips are trapped between your teeth. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of your boyfriend slowly pushing his entire length inside you, getting you feeling so full of him. "Yuji..." Your voice sounds so lewd, so needy and whiny for him that the sound of it makes you blush. You feel him stop moving once he's inside you fully, and at first you think he's letting you adjust to his size. That is, until he pulls his head back and your gaze falls onto the black lines all over his face. The soft look that once inherited your boyfriend's face is now replaced by a smug, cocky one. He has a smirk on that tells you to push him off and quickly get out of the car- but why don't you?

Instead, you feel yourself clenching around him even more. The look on his face has you dripping wet, your nipples hardening underneath your dress and the butterflied in your stomach going crazy as ever.

"Can't believe that little boy would keep you all to himself." His voice isn't Yuji's- no. It's much deeper, darker, more dangerous. He looks down at your apalled expression, his smirk growing even bigger. He leans over, pushing your legs up to your chest and forcing you down into a mating press. "What's my name, princess?"

You can feel your heart beating rapidly against your chest, your breathing shaky and your head clouded. Without even thinking about it, your mouth moves on their own and out comes your whimpering voice.

"Sukuna."

The curse pulls away with a wide grin, pulling his hips out before thrusting his cock inside you again, the tip of his cock hitting the same spot as it did before. Sukuna's hips are relentlessly thrusting inside you, abusing your needy hole as you moan loudly for more.

His hand finds its way to your boob and you feel something hot and wet lap itself over your hardened nipple. You look down to see the mouth on his hand grinning cockily like him. It wraps itself around your nipple, sucking on the bud and biting on it softly making your eyes rolls back to your head.

You feel something coil up inside your stomach, your mouth opening as you feel yourself slowly reach your high. "I-I'm so, fucking, clo-" Sukuna thrusts his hips hardly once, causing your toes to curl and your body to shake as you move your hips to ride out your orgasm. Heavy breaths fill the car as your legs grow limp on either side of his body and your eyelids become heavier.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" Sukuna squeezes your cheeks, making your eyelids lift open. He hooks his arm around your back, pulling you along with him as he sits up.

Your eyes widen and back arches when you feel electricity run up your spine. Sukuna lifts a brow, his hands on either side of your hips, preventing you from lifting them. "Too full!" You whimper out, tears forming on the corners of your eyes as you swallow a large lump down your throat.

"Hah?" He tilts his head to the side, "But I haven't even came yet." You feel him roll his hips once, but it was all it took to have you digging your nails on his shoulders. "I'll pull out when I cum. But for now," He lowers his head to take your nipple by his mouth, his fingers pinching and playing with the other one. ",focus on making me feel good, princess."

Your eyes clench shut asbyou focus on the feeling of his hard member inside your dripping cunt. You move your hips once, you feel goosebumps all over your body. You move your hips a second time and you're wanting to feel that same friction again. You move your hips a third and you're letting your desires take over.

You hump on Sukuna's cock sloppily and roughly, the car is shaking. Sukuna let's out soft groans and moans, the constant "love feeling your cunt around my cock like this" whispered and growled into your ear. His eyes travel down to your chest, eyes gleaming when he sees your boobs bouncing in sync with everytime you hump on him.

When he looks back at you, all his other sense go numb. The sight of you with your tongue out your mouth, you drool dripping down your tongue, your face flushed and your eyes crossed together at the feeling of it being so good has him gripping on your hips tightly. "You're a fucking slut, aren't ya?" He begins thrusting himself inside you and you moan loudly, your toes curling at the feeling of his sac slapping against your skin. "Aren't ya?!" He yells and all you could do is whimper as you nod your head. He's fucking you so dumb you couldn't form coherent words.

He rolls his hips as he thrusts them, making sure you feel every single inch of him inside you. Your moans are in sync with his thrusts, feeling your breath being knocked out of your system with every thrust the curse does.

Your hand flies up your mouth, trying to surpress the loud moans that keep slipping out of your lips but Sukuna wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling your hand away.

"Scream for me, come on princess. Let him know who's fucking you so good right now." His voice is low and deep, it drives you to the edge, almost pushing you off. "Wh-who? Who's him?" You ask, forcing your eyes to open as you look down at Sukuna- your eyebrows raise in surprise at the sight of the black lines on your boyfriend's face gone.

Yuji looks up at you with eyes holding such lust. He has a straight expression on as he looks into your eyes, kind of hypnotising you as he thrusts into you, leading the both of you to your highs.

"Wh-what happened to Sukuna-"

"Why are you looking for him." Yuji's voice is covered in coldness. He combs his fingers on the back of your head and throughyour hair, curling them into a fist as he pulls on your hair. "He's not the one fucking you right now, I am." His thrusts start becoming more aggressive, hinting at you that he's already close.

"You'll cum around my cock a second time and you'll be moaning my name out as loud as you can. Got it?" Yuji growls onto your neck. His other hand grabs onto your hip and begins thrusting into you faster than before. You feel something snap inside you, your orgasm causing your toes to curl and your fingernails to be dug onto your boyfriend's skin. "Y-Yuji!" Your hips shake as you begin rolling them around, riding out your orgasm.

"That's not my name right now, princess." You look back down only to feel your heart drop at the sight of the black lines all over his face. "S-S-Sukuna! Sukuna!" You moan out, your chest rising and falling exceptionally. You hear him chuckle before feeling him pull out, shooting his hot seed all over your naked cunt.

You look back up, checking to see who's who right now. You smile when you see it's your boyfriend. You press your forehead on his shoulder as you try to calm yourself down. You feel his arms wrap themselves around you as the two of you bask in each other's presence.

"You gotta stop doing that, it fucks up with my brain." You mumble onto his chest which only leaves you with a lighthearted chuckle. "But Sukuna says he doesn't want to be left out."

"Whatever, Sukuna can go fuck off." You mumble sleepily.

"Why don't you fuck me yourself, princess?" A deeper and much darker voice speaks up and you curse yourself mentally.

navigation

[unnerving-presence]

Hi I'm the anon that has send the request about the reader killing the killers, and I loved it!

Can I ask for a part two? Where the entity takes notice of how powerful the reader is and makes them her vessel of sorts, giving them powers and whenever Killers are misbehaving, she sends the reader to..... "teach" them a "lesson"

Same Killers please if you could 🥰

Wow I am so messed up

Of course :) I resisted the urge to elaborate on the readers power but the entity basically merged with them so they have the power of the entity in a way and they’re not as sympathetic so it’s easier for them to put the killers in their place

I love this concept so much I literally have to hold back from writing too much. if you couldn’t tell i love torturing the killers lmao

warning: graphic depictions of violence and gore. this is basically just torture stuff so if you are not comfortable with it please do not read!

Part 1

༒༒༒༒༒

Kazan Yamaoka/The Oni:

As brutal as you were, Kazan never expected the Entity to make you it’s servant. He hasn’t talked to you much ever since you’ve been restricted from going into trials, so the only way he would really know about you serving the Entity is if another killer told him, or if you had to punish him yourself.

For the first time in his life, he’s actually been afraid of someone. Nobody has been able to (alone) take him down. Now seeing as someone like you can? He’s not terrified, if anything he sees you as a little badass, but he does not want to get on your bad side.

He’s never seen you punish a killer, but he has seen the aftermath. The Hillbilly, better known as Max Thompson Jr., decided that he wouldn’t listen to The Entity, decided that he’d kill the survivors the way he wanted. All of them died too quickly for The Entity to feed on their fear, and she was not pleased. Needless to say that the poor man’s cries of pain could be heard for miles, and Kazan would never forget the way Max was desperately trying to keep his organs in place as he struggled to get back to his realm. You wouldn’t even give him the sweet release of death after you were done with him..

This is nothing like when the mob attacked, not even close. This was a new type of pain, pain that makes you wish you were dead. Kazan was never one to give up so easily, but in your grasp he feels so helpless. He doesn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore. He feels so vulnerable with his mask off, with his armor tossed to the side. His jaw is now broken, and his ribs feel like they’re going to snap at any second. You’ve barely started, and you’re already making him regret his actions in his last trial.

“I’m not going to kill you, but I am going to make it hurt.”

Michael Myers/The Shape:

At first, he doesn’t really seem to care that much. If he’s not the one in pain, it’s not really his problem. He still holds a bit of a grudge against you, meaning he stalks you, so he’s known since the start that you’re serving The Entity.

He’s surprised that you’ve gotten this far just from killing him, though he is a bit jealous. You don’t really scare him that much considering your small stature. If anything it’s kind of cute to him. Just a little thing like you running around and giving killers a little bonk on the head for not doing good in trials is a thought that almost makes him smirk. Of course those thoughts were before he’s seen you punish a killer. Now that he’s really seeing it in action, he understands why The Entity made you it’s servant. Though he is far from scared of you, he is a bit impressed at how the other killers feel a bit more uneasy when they see you pass by, some even fleeing to their own realms.

Michael can do almost anything he wants in The Entity’s realm without being punished. Hell, he even kills the survivors too fast for the Entity’s liking and comes back from a trial unscathed. Now with you by The Entity’s side, Michael isn’t as free as he used to be. Michael doesn’t know that however, and doesn’t really seem to care. Atleast he didn’t seem to care until he was the one in all those other killer’s shoes.

It’s been what seemed like hours and Michael looks like he’s on the verge of tears. With his own knife, you’ve managed to do quite a bit to him. His mask is removed, face terribly bruised with a nose bleed that seems like it could go on forever. He’s lost a couple fingers, and the remaining digits no longer have nails. His arms and chest are littered with large and small stab wounds alike, ones that you dig your fingers into when it seems like he hasn’t quite gotten the message that he isn’t in charge here. Michael’s vision occasionally blacks out, only to be woken up by a bash on the head with the handle of the knife. You’re not sure how much he can take, but you are sure that Michael will never forgive you for this.

Summoning a sharp tendril, you swiftly pierce it through Michael’s leg, waking him and receiving a loud grunt as he stares up at you with a tired but furious gaze.

“Wakey wakey Michael, I’m not quite done with you yet.”

Danny Johnson/Ghostface:

This man is so jealous. He was a killer way before you did anything special! Technically he does serve The Entity, but not in the way you do. Danny probably thinks you’re not all that since he’s probably still mad as shit that you embarrassed him like that.

He hears some of the killers talk about you like you’re a nightmare come true. Of course Danny calls it all bullshit and says you’re probably not as ruthless as they say you are. Honestly he just isn’t ready to accept that fact that you have more power over him than he does, and he’s not very fond of the fact that he can’t be an asshole to you anymore.

Danny has never heard nor seen you give one of the killers a lesson, but he has been given shockingly precise details on just what you can do to them. He’s never heard of a survivor having this much power over the killers. Well I guess he couldn’t call you a survivor anymore now, could he? Nonetheless he seems to forget that there are consequences for his actions, especially after a trial he didn’t do so well in.

Danny hasn’t known fear until this day. He displeased The Entity, and now he pays the price. He can no longer see, but he can feel. He can feel the way you pry his mouth open and slowly cut his tongue open. He can feel just how strong your bond is with The Entity, how much you’ve changed. His throat burns from how much he’s been yelling in agony. He coughs up blood as it travels into his lungs, making it more difficult to breathe by the second. It was already worse having you kill him in a trial when you were a survivor, now this torture?

“I love that look of despair on your face.”

Frank Morrison/The Legion:

As if you couldn’t get any scarier to him, now you’re serving The Entity. He hasn’t talked to you ever since you last saw each other so he really has no idea of what you’re doing with The Entity until somebody goes up and straight up tells him.

From what he’s recently heard, you’re now going around teaching killers not to displease The Entity? Sounds odd that all of this is happening in such a short amount of time but it doesn’t make it any less scary for him. He hates being scared, but knowing that if he tries doing things his way will get him punished makes him kind of worried as he tends to go a bit overboard in some of his trials.

His friends are lucky enough to not experience the horror of being tortured into submission, but they have been told what it feels like. He tries his best to comfort Susie and tells her that as long as she does things the way The Entity wants, she will be okay. Needless to say The Legion is very scared of you. Please go easy on them they’re only teenagers (except for Frank of course)

It was bound to happen someday. Frank got too angry at those pesky survivors and wasn’t thinking straight. Not even in a trial, he managed to kill 2 of them. He would learn soon enough that killing isn’t allowed outside of trials. The rest of The Legion are huddled up in a corner. Susie is sobbing into Joey’s chest as he slowly rubs her back, trying his best not to look at what’s going on in front of him. Julie can’t seem to look away, pure shock seeming to be the thing holding her still. Frank feels like all of his bones are on the verge of shattering. How is he even alive at this point? His organs aren’t in place, scattered across the hard wood floor, leaving a sour smell behind. The only thing keeping him up at this point is the hook that is impaled straight through his shoulder. He wants so badly to just die, but The Entity is the only thing keeping him alive at this moment. No matter how much blood you spill, it’s not over until The Entity says it’s over.

“Oh Frank, you know this is far from over..”

[natewriteslol]

Hey! Could i request the dorm leaders with an esper MC? Kinda like Mob psycho or Saiki k :) and maybe they don't really use this ability of theirs that much since in their world they're literally a teen who's trying to live a normal life(like Mob basically), so nobody knew about their psychic powers except Grim since the mirror said that he couldnt sense any magic in them(i'm pretty sure that psychic powers don't really count as magic but idk lol).

Feel free to ignore if you don't wanna write it! :)

 A/N: Ooh this was a fun one! I haven't watched Mob Psycho (I know about that fine ass blonde man-) but I have watched Saiki k and I loved it, still need to finish it tho jlafljhdas 

Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Azul Ashengrotto, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

P.S: I’m so sorry this is so long omg but I guess this is a strong comeback-

Warnings: none except for language

Riddle:

-You wanted to stay as far away as possible from him

-Riddle was part of the trio of people you wanted to stay away from: Riddle, Vil, and Azul

-Riddle paid so much attention to fine details that if something was up, he'd definitely notice it

-But unfortunately you were best friends with the two goobers of Heartslabyul: Ace and Deuce

-And Riddle had started to pay attention to you and your habits, and something was off with you

-It's almost as though you tried too hard to be normal, like Jamil

-And he could never let something like that happen again, so yes he was watching you

-One day you accidently slipped up and was irresponsible with your powers

-Grim was bothering you since he got into a deal with Azul for tuna and they were standing outside with the twins, since Grim lost

-You told him to fend for himself and teleported, however you didn’t plan where you would go

-And you teleported into the Heartslabyul dorm

-What sucks is that your teleportation power was literally flashy with a bright ass green light every time you popped in somewhere

-Just when you thought you were lucky since the whole dorm was uninhabited...except for Riddle who watched the whole thing

-He was completely shocked, he didn’t know what to say other than “What did you just do?!” 

-You explained to him, and that just pieced everything together

-How you solved overblots with such ease, and that one day you had a “strength potion to test for Azul” was such bs!

-Riddle ends up keeping your secret, since he values your privacy but if you do something major and mess up then he will tell!

-”I understand but please be more careful with your powers. I need to institute discipline and you are no exception, Y/N.”

-He really does care about you and doesn’t want you to be found out 

-Goes the extra mile to cover for you often, and in exchange you help him out with things :)

Leona:

-He didn't really care about you at first but as you started to hang Jack and Ruggie, Leona started to get more suspicious

-Your scent had proven that you had some trace of magic, but Leona just couldn't put his finger on it

-So he sent Ruggie after you for a couple of days

-If you were a threat to Savanaclaw, Leona would crush you

-But Ruggie had only reported back that everything with you was perfectly normal

-"Just give it up Leona, they're just an ordinary human. The scent is probably weird because they're from a completely different world."

-But Leona still had that feeling, so he was keeping an eye on you

-You had made a deal with Crowley to keep your powers secret to solve problems on campus (it did cut repair costs and handymen costs in half so-)

-Your new quest was to rid the forest of the Angolo fungus that was manifesting into living fungus blobs 

-The one thing that gave you away was Grim, as you both had to stop by the Greenhouse to read some info about the fungus

-The cat beast was being far too loud, not understanding why he had to go and mess around with the icky fungus

-You simply replied “It’ll be quick, I’ll just use Hydrokinesis and dry out the fungus since they’re mainly filled with water. They become fertilizer once dried so we can just leave them there.”

-And there Leona was, ears perked up once he heard your voice

-Hydrokinesis? What are you talking about?

-So he set off, following you to the forest

-You started to fly, turning the once green and lively fungus to brown dust while Grim napped against a tree

-Leona for the first time in the while, was left speechless

-Once you noticed him, you realized you had to talk to him

-Confronting him later on, luckily Leona didn’t spill to anyone 

-He promised to never tell anyone about what he saw, and had no clapbacks for what you had to say 

- Leona doesn’t even benefit from this secret...besides mayyybee one day asking for your help if his pride lets him

-By the Great Seven why does everything have to not be in his favor-

Azul:

-Another one who you have got to be careful around, since he’s incredibly observant

-More observant than Riddle

-Azul noticed that you’re an incredibly average person, and were incredibly relaxed even during the most stressful situations

-And almost every single time whenever you were in a tight spot, it works in your favor

-Just how is that possible? Solving overblots left and right? Every single time you disappeared the infestation of magical beasts are gone? 

-One day, you were getting picked on by a three guys, their stature far above yours and incredibly strong. How could you possibly win?

-Just as he was about to scoop in a save you, you slammed one of the men into the concrete, taking on the other two by electrocuting them, the blue lightning buzzing in your palms

-They were completely knocked out, dusting off your palms and picking up your things only to face Azul’s eyes

-After giving an explanation of what that was, he was still speechless

-Azul at first was incredibly shocked and then since Azul is Azul... later on realized this had benefits

-He could just blackmail you to be his new bodyguard!

-Oh how he always manages to bend life to his will-!

-So you could just wipe his memory... or turn him into stone...nvm

-You’re now Azul’s arch nemesis since you end up saving people from his scamming and you’re basically untouchable and there’s nothing he can do about it

-But he does find your great strength admirable (and a lil hot, I mean what can u say seeing someone floating in the air with electricity flowing through them is a nice look okay Nate shut up)

Kalim: 

-Oh Kalim my beloved

-He just thinks that you’re incredibly talented and a little mysterious

-You have your little quirks and he has his! Who is he to judge?

-Until one day you wanted to make the load lighter on Jamil, since the berries that Kalim had requested for were only in season in one country

-You decided to just teleport and then come back with the berries so Kalim wouldn’t be pouty 

-You were outside the door ready to teleport when last minute you felt a hand on your shoulder

- “Oh Y/N you forgot-!”

-And there both you and Kalim were, in a berry field thousands of miles away from the Scarabia dorm

-Kalim screams, falling to the lush green of the field

-What happened?! Where are we?! How did you do that?!

-You quickly gathered all the berries at light speed, making sure that you got back before Jamil realized that you were gone

-Kalim wasn’t scared of you, rather impressed that you were able to keep a secret for that long, he could never!

-You’re already super cool, and on top of this you have otherwordly powers!

- “It must’ve been stressful living your life like this! But don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret!”

-Yes he sometimes asks you to perform some of your powers for him, sorry Y/N-

Vil:

-While you were his friend, he was incredibly suspicious of you

-Even though you wiped everyone’s memory, he still had the faint memory of when he was in overblot mode of you blasting him with a beam of light

-Vil was incredibly upset as one of his assistants had mixed up his items, and left one of his vital skincare items on the set of where they were filming a new commercial

-It was being shipped and would take 3 days to reach NRC

-His mood was horrible and you had to do something about it to give grace to the Pomefiore dorm

-So you went to the second story of the Pomefiore dorm, ready to use Apport (the power to pull anything before you) 

-However, Vil felt incredibly guilty

-He was acting like a child and he shouldn’t have taken it out on the people who he loves and values

- “Y/N, how I was acting was incredibly inappropriate and- is that my moisturizer? How did you get it?”

-Starts freaking out as this was impossible as it was on it’s way from being shipped from another country

-This was the last straw for him ther was no justification for this that wasn't done by some form of magic

-He takes you to his room to make you sit down and give him an explanation for this

-Once you finished, Vil understood but was still freaked out

-He cares alot about keeping your powers a secret and will cover for you

-"So my aport powers need to exchange something of equal value so... I exchanged it with that Scucci purse over there-

-"MY LIMITED EDITION SCUCCI PURSE?!"

-He loves you, but you're dead to him, Y/N dear

Idia:

-Before he knew you, he didn't really notice anything off with you

-A little quiet sure but he minded his own business, he had bigger things to focus on

-Until you hung around Ignihyde more often for a project, fixing a huge generator by yourself for one of your partners for a project

-They took a break only after you told them that they could and apprehensive went to go get food and water

-Anyone with eyes could see that there's an overbearing amount of energy flowing through the fairly large sized cube

-Wait, you were wearing no gloves, you could get electrocuted! Why would have your bare hands on something like that?!

-Just as he was able to yell, it was too late, your whole body was flowing with the bright blue energy... and then you let go

-You were walking completely fine, you went and held a random wire on the ground, placing the electricity inside

-The static from your hair was gone, and you looked completely normal. . .

-Just what the hell are you?

-He did hours of research trying to figure you out, even sending Ortho to monitor you

-Yet there was nothing, you were just a “regular teen” 

-Was ready to get S.T.Y.X.S on your ass- (is that too soon to joke abt my bad overblot boys-)

-Until one day he caught you again bending electricity to your will

-Is incredibly impressed with your power (lowkey wanting to experiment on you)

-After he realizes that you can read minds Idia is so damn frightened

- “O-Okay I promise not to say anything, just don’t tell anyone what I’m thinking a-alright?!”

Malleus:

-You were one of the only people who he trusted

-Malleus had always detected some form of magical aura that was otherworldly from you and it never seemed to fade

-And it wasn’t often, but it was almost like you knew what he was thinking

-Whenever he was deeply upset he felt a twinge of energy from you, and then you would insist and help him out with his problems

-And he flat out says “Are you reading my mind, Y/N?”

-You had never been directly outed like this before, you felt horrible 

-You never read people’s minds unless it was very necessary

-whenever Malleus felt deeply gloomy you felt like it was important to just read his mind and help him with the problem

-You explained it to him and apologized, but he wasn’t upset

-In fact, he was smiling?

- “It seems like we have alot of things that we’re hiding from each other. But... you always had the best intentions whenever you used your abilities”

-He let out a sigh and reluctantly admitted, “And, I know that I’m quite stubborn with revealing my feelings.” 

- “I will keep your secret as long as you keep mine, Child of Man,” the dragon fae said, you both shaking on it

- “I always had a feeling that you were special, but I never thought it would be something of this caliber...” 

[radiolilo]

My friend and I were talking about tap dancing and she made the mistake of getting me started on asked me about the movie musicals of Old Hollywood. She claims she doesn't regret it (bless her), but then I realised, y'know who I haven't shared my Opinions™️of Old Hollywood Musicals with? The Old Hollywood sideblog I made for that very purpose.

It all started when I name-dropped the spectacular Vera-Ellen and my friend mentioned something about triple threats of the time, to which I said, "welllllll..."

Anyways, I warned her that she had opened the floodgates and so I started on some famous dancing triple threats of the time. Obviously I had to start with the usual suspects- those being Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly - but I also chucked Donald O'Connor in there, because I think he's the strongest triple threat of the three of them (told you I had Opinions™️lol)

(I'm putting the rest of this under the cut because whoo-ee this got long lol)

Listen, Fred Astaire is a Master™️and arguably, THE Master™️. There's no denying it. He is an icon of dance. He had some solid comedic chops and was a good actor. But as a singer? He goes alright. Not particularly strong, but when you can dance like that, you can let your feet do the talking. I'm not saying he's terrible, but I guess you could say there's a reason he got paired up with Bing Crosby.

Now, Gene Kelly. The Man. The Myth. The Legend. One of the most influential choreographers to grace the screen. He sang in the rain, danced on rollerskates, and made some poor animators' lives hell when he danced with Jerry. He also taught Frank Sinatra how to dance and yes, do see my note on the Astaire-Crosby pairing above. Again, not saying Mr Kelly was by any means a bad singer; hell, the man started off on Broadway, didn't he? So did Astaire, for that matter. They're just not my cup of tea vocally- both of them can be a bit reedy for my liking. Gene was, however, quite a good actor, having had turns in noir films in his time.

And then there's my dear Mr O, Donald O'Connor. Like Astaire and Kelly, Donald O'Connor (or as I like to call him: Doc) worked the vaudeville circuits. In fact, the story goes that he was quite literally born into it, making his debut at 13 months old. Unlike, Astaire and Kelly, Donald O'Connor did not have formal training (he only learnt how to 'dance'/learn choreography under Louis da Pron as he made his first films), or a start in Broadway (his only Broadway credits were in the 80s in two short-lived musicals). But interestingly, he did have a surprisingly mellifluous voice.

Listen, Astaire and Kelly are good singers. They sound the way they dance- sliding as smoothly as a bow across the strings of a violin. Ok yes, this is another reference to the fact that I think they sound reedy lol but I will say they do have lovely phrasing! Fred takes all the songs he sings and makes them his own. And Gene just oozes so much charm that it's hard not to love anything he sings.

But Doc? The first time I heard him sing I Wonder Why (You're Just in Love) from 'Call Me Madam' I had to have a moment because YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT VOICE IS COMING OUT OF THAT (with all due respect) RAGDOLL OF A MAN. This is the guy who wrestled a dummy, took pratfalls like a boss, and backflipped off walls as a signature move. And his voice was actually that deep and rounded?! Folks, if I keep going on about Astaire and Kelly being reedy, it's only to emphasise that compared to them, Doc's voice had body to it. Don't believe me? Try singing next to Ethel Merman, Broadway diva and notoriously loud singer- Fred did it once as skit with hilarious results. And listen, I'm aware that when Doc sang with Ethel, it wasn't live. But there's something about his tone that's just so rounded to go with Ethel's brassiness that just works. I'm putting it down to him working with Bing Crosby as a child and probably mimicking him in his singing, but I could be wrong lol

I wish I could speak more to Doc's acting, but the guy spent almost his whole career playing best friends/comic relief/the sweet guy next door and was never really given 'serious' roles. That being said, you won't find many actors with better comic timing and delivery than Donald O'Connor.

So, long story short?

If you're looking for triple threats, look no further than Donald O'Connor (because no one ever really looks at him in the first place)

Seriously, listen to him sing with Ethel Merman, then go listen to Fred and Gene and you'll hear the difference

I never did get back around to Vera-Ellen, but as a lovely lil tie-in: Go watch 'Call Me Madam' and fall in love with her as a fairytale princess!!! uwu

[saltybaltic]

AYO YOU AMAZING WRITER YOU💖 Can you write an nsfw Natasha x reader sex pollen fic where r goes on a mission with everyone and is the only one that gets hit with the sex pollen and thinks nothing of it until they get back for the debrief and r starts feeling the effects during the meeting with the rest of the avengers in there like the fever and aches and is super turned on and humiliated and everyone is confused trying to figure out what’s wrong then Bruce says the only thing that can help is sex and she picks Nat to help her out? Something super smutty 😳

Natasha Romanoff X Reader - EXPOSURE

Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow X FemReader Fanfic

Synopsis: On a mission you seem to be the only one who’s been hit with this air borne drug. Fortunately you have a great team mate to help you through it

Warnings: 18+ content, f/f sex, sex pollen so the usual dub-con for this trope

Words: 2345

You’d really thought nothing of it until you’d gotten off the quinjet. Even the whole journey home you had felt fine, brushing off everyone’s concern with a flick of the wrist as if it was nothing. You really had felt fine. The exposure to the gas back at the enemy base had been minimal, barely a few seconds, and after a brief once over by one of the SHIELD medics, you had been given the all clear that it was probably fine.

It wasn’t until you were walking towards the briefing room to have the post mission meeting that you started to feel anything unusual. Your skin was starting to itch with a burning hotness that was impossible to ignore. When you had parted ways with the team to quickly get changed out of your combat gear before the brief, you had treated yourself to a very cold shower but if anything it only seemed to have made you even more aware of how hot you were feeling. Washing at all was starting to feel like a total waste of time, your hands already clammy with sweat and the hair by your temples beginning to dampen and cling to the side of your head. Your brain felt fuzzy but at that same time it was like you were thinking with perfect clarity. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

Looking around the briefing room as you entered, it was as if you were wearing tinted glasses, everything not quite the way it should be and with a tinge of deep red or orange. You could feel every beat of your pulse against your skull, every hammer of your heart in your chest. Your throat felt dry yet you couldn’t stop running your tongue over your lips to prevent your mouth from watering.

It wasn’t until Natasha sat down beside you that it became apparent that something was very wrong. The smell hit you like a bus and it only intensified everything you were already feeling. It was like your senses had been dialled up threefold. You could take her all in as if it were carefully arranged layers just for you to enjoy; the coconut of her shampoo, the sweet smell of the lotion she’d applied after the shower, the laundry detergent on her fresh clothes, the smell of her perfume.

Maybe it wasn’t the most subtle reaction you could have had if you were hoping not to attract any attention, but jumping up from your seat so violently that your chair fell backwards with a loud crash certainly ensured that everyone’s eyes were now on you.

“Are you okay?” The concerned voice of Bruce from the other side of the room hit you but you could barely focus on what he was saying.

Standing up from her own seat to look at you more closely, Natasha cocked her head to the side as she examined your flushed skin, heavy breathing and blown out pupils. She turned back to the others in the room with a frown, “See, I told you she wasn’t alright.”

“But the medics checked her over.”

“Oh like they know everything.”

“Well they know more than you!”

“It was only a minor exposure and we don’t even know what it was.”

“She said she was feeling fine on the quinjet, I mean this could be something else.”

“Sure, it’s just a huge coincidence that she feels like this after being gassed.”

As the team descended into an argument, you couldn’t really hear what they were saying. Nor, did you care. You felt restless and fidgety, tapping your foot up and down against the ground as you rubbed at your forearms uncomfortably. Your jaw was clenched tight, tilting your head from side to side to work the muscles in your neck as you tried to get your breathing to return to normal. It felt like an adrenaline rush, that feeling that hits you just as the rollercoaster is about to go over the big drop. But it also felt like a hunger, a craving for something like you were a predator that needed to hunt. It was too hard to put your finger on it, too early in the stages of whatever you were feeling to identify it yet.

The sound of someone calling your name broke you from your thoughts, looking up at the rest of the occupants in the room to see them all watching you expectantly.

“What?”

Sitting down by a laptop at the head of the table, Bruce pushed his glasses up his nose as he tapped a few keys before looking up at you, “I’ll have to use the database we have to try and identify what you’ve been exposed to. But I need you to concentrate and answer a few questions okay?”

You nodded your head, closing your eyes momentarily as a wave of heat washed over your body and you tried to remained focused, “Sure, sure, sure let’s do it.”

“So this gas ... could you see it? Did it have a colour?”

It was so hard to focus on the question, your brain working at a million miles a minute but unable to make sense of whatever it was that you were thinking about, “Erm ... I don’t ... it was kind of ... like a greyish blue, I guess.”

“And a smell? Did it have a smell?”

“It was ... sweet. I suppose. Yeah ... but like ... a dessert or something. Like someone had lit a vanilla candle.”

The questions seemed to go on forever, with the occasional interjection from someone else as they tried to help with the answers. Each question narrowed the possibilities down further, Bruce carefully inputting the information into the computer. By the time he got to the bottom of it, you could barely think straight any more, your hands balling into fists as you tried to process the discussion that was taking place around you.

“That’s ridiculous, they don’t actually use that stuff.”

“Well obviously they do because here we are.”

“If they don’t use it then how is it in their files? We only have the information because we took it from them.”

“But there’s never actually been a case of it being used before.”

“Until now.”

“I mean just wanting to have a lot of sex doesn’t sound that bad, there are worse ways to spend an afternoon.”

“Tony! Can you be serious for one second.”

“It isn’t that simple. This is like a real urge. It can be quite uncomfortable for the subject they-“

“The subject?! She has a name you know.”

“But she’s not gonna do anything crazy right?”

“Well no she won’t do anything she wouldn’t usually want to do but the need will be off the charts. It can drive people crazy if they don’t get some sort of relief from it.”

Finally you couldn’t take any more, clearing your throat loudly to get their attention and gesturing towards the door, “Yeah so this is pretty awkward, little embarrassing, bit too intimate to be honest so I think I’m gonna take off.”

“Wait, you should go to the med bay.”

You interrupted Steve’s statement with a laugh, already making your way towards the door as you used all of your willpower to ignore the powerful surge of hormones and need coursing through your body, “What are they gonna do for me there exactly?”

“I dunno, some of those nurses are pretty cute.”

Despite the fact Tony’s joke earned him a disapproving look from almost everyone, you were actually grateful for it, laughing again as you took his words as your cue to escape and hastily left. You were halfway to your room when you heard the sound of feet hitting the ground behind you.

“Wait up.”

God even the sound of her voice was getting too much now.

“Nat. Please, I really really can’t be around you.”

Despite your statement, the red head fell into step just behind you and followed you down the corridor, “I wanted to make sure you got back alright.”

“And while I appreciate that, you’re way too hot to be this close to me.” your eyes fell closed at your words, the effects obviously starting to hit you stronger now as the confession fell freely from your lips. You never spoke to Natasha like this, you wouldn’t have dared on a normal day for fear she’d knock you to ground. Whatever you’d inhaled earlier that day didn’t seem to share your reservations as the arousal started to make itself known.

Natasha pursed her lips, not wanting to embarrass you as she was fairly certain you would never have normally said something like that to her. Certainly not so blasé. “It’s okay. I know this must be ... overwhelming.”

You snorted, “That’s one word for it. But seriously ... I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here.��

“Well I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone.”

Stopping outside your bedroom door, you looked back at the other woman and immediately had to close your eyes and turn your head away instead as a strong pang of arousal hit you, “Jesus.”

“What? Does it hurt?” the concern in Natasha’s voice was obvious, watching you carefully as your eyes bunched closed tighter and you pushed out a shaky breath.

Shaking your head frantically from side to side, you went to grab the door handle from behind the other woman, “It’s uncomfortable. It’s way too intense. I just wanna ... fuck ... I need to get inside ... I need ... I need you to move, please.”

The sensation of Natasha’s hands coming up to rest on your cheeks caused your breath to catch in your throat. It was almost too much, the feeling of her soft skin on yours was like electricity, a shiver travelling the length of your spine and a heavy drop hitting your stomach. One of her thumbs brushed over your cheek before she spoke, “Let me help you.”

When you opened your eyes to look at her, the feeling that came over you was like nothing you’d ever felt before. It was as if someone else had taken control of you, like you were watching from the sidelines as your body acted of it’s own accord. The moment your eyes had locked with Natasha’s, everything you’d been fighting to control took hold of you and in three brisk steps forward you had the other woman caged between the door and your body, one of your hands coming up to rest on the wood beside her head.

“Natasha.” You paused to wet your lips, ignoring the huskiness to your voice as you scrambled around in your head for the smallest ounce of restraint, “You really need to leave now before I do something I can’t take back.”

If you had been expecting any reaction from the other woman, what she actually did would have been somewhere at the bottom of your list. Over the year or so that you’d worked with Natasha you’d had a mostly professional relationship, though that wasn’t to say you weren’t friendly with one another. However the forwardness of her next move was new territory all together.

Moving her hands from your cheeks, she ran them slowly down to either side of your neck. You could do nothing but lean into the gesture, goosebumps rising and flesh searing at the feeling of her fingertips digging into you. You were so lost in the sensation of her touch that you hadn’t realised she’d leaned closer until her hot breath hit the shell of your ear and she spoke in a low whisper, “But just think how good it would feel if you let me help you.”

Her words actually pulled a growl from the back of your throat, the ever growing heat between your thighs magnifying significantly at her words, “Nat ... last warning.”

Instead of backing down, Natasha tilted her head enough that her lips could attach to the side of your neck before speaking again, “Stop fighting it, I know you want me.”

That was enough. You couldn’t have prevented it no matter what had tried to stop you, pushing the door open with one hand as the other gripped the back of her neck and pulled her into a searing kiss. Practically falling through the door together, Natasha’s hands found your waist and all you could do was groan at the relief of the full body contact. Feeling the way her breasts pressed up against your chest, her tongue slipping into your mouth, her hands around your waist as yours slipped down to grope at her ass. God it was intoxicating and still you wanted more

If you had any control over the urges that were powering your body you’d probably have wanted to take your time. Your attraction to Natasha wasn’t something you were particularly ashamed of or desperate to hide. However you’d barely got as far as building up a friendship with the red head and so jumping straight into sex seemed like you were skipping a few important steps. Not to mention the fact that you were fairly certain this was not going to be a terribly slow or tender encounter. No. With the way you were already pulling her clothing from her body and tearing at your own, you both knew that this was something else all together.

Fortunately for both parties Natasha really didn’t mind. Of course after Bruce had explained the effects you would be feeling, what else would she be expecting really? But in the time the two of you had been working together she had come to care for you and the idea of you struggling alone wasn’t something she cared for. Also she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about you in a sexual way before, granted she never thought this would be how it happened.

In all your haste to get Natasha undressed you actually fumbled several times with the fastening of her bra, sure that you’d be embarrassed under normal circumstances but currently too frustrated and impatient to care. You were relieved when Natasha wordlessly reached around and undid the clasp herself, throwing the item across the room before wrapping her arms around your body to do the same with your clothing.

You could barely register what was happening as the two of you staggered backwards into your bedroom, barely managing not to trip over the clothing and shoes that you’d discarded on the way. You were too lost in her to bring yourself to care about being careful. Just kissing her was absolute heaven. Her tongue sliding over yours, lips working frantically together. You had expected Natasha to be a good kisser and maybe it was just the effects of what you had been exposed to but it was like a sparks were flying, a warm wave washing over your body and a pang of arousal with every soft moan from the red head that vibrated against your lips. The way she would occasionally suck your tongue more harshly into her mouth made you feel wobbly on your feet, and the sensation of her nipping your lower lip between her teeth had you desperate for more.

It didn’t take long for you to be pinned on the mattress beneath her, both naked now and lips still moulded together as she settled herself on top of you. Already you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding down against her thigh, desperate to relieve some of the pressure that had started to build. If anything you needed it more now, the arousal bordering on uncomfortable as you became acutely aware of just how wet you were against Natasha’s thigh.

The other woman didn’t need to be told, evidence of your arousal already coating her skin. She finally broke the kiss to lean down, but she had barely attached her lips to one of your nipples when you pulled her back up with a frantic shake of your head and a groan, “Please Nat, I can’t wait any longer, just fuck me already, please.”

You felt on the verge of crying you wanted it so bad, the whole experience completely foreign to you. It was bizarre to be overwhelmed with such a primal, animalistic need. Every time you found yourself in bed with a woman you enjoyed everything about it; lavishing her body with attention, the anticipation, the teasing, wanting to take her to the heights of pleasure over and over. This was nothing like that at all. You really just wanted to fuck. More than anything you wanted to come and you were fairly certain if you didn’t soon then it would be the death of you.

Nodding her head in understanding, Natasha pressed her lips to yours again as she propped herself up on one of her elbows, “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

You were so soaked by now her fingers slipped easily inside of you and all you could do was lie back and release a loud moan. You weren’t sure whether it was in relief or pleasure but either way you were certain that Natasha’s fingers had to be one of the most wonderful things you’d ever felt in your life. Just one thrust of her digits already had your fingers grabbing at the sheets below you, heels digging into the mattress and head thrown back against the pillow in bliss as finally, finally you were given what you had been craving.

“Good?” asked Natasha, her fingers having stilled inside of you almost immediately as she waited for some kind of signal from you that what she was doing was definitely what you wanted.

Nodding your head hurriedly, you brought her mouth down to meet yours again, mumbling frantically against her lips between kisses, “So fucking good ... keep going.”

Natasha grinned, happy to oblige as she started to move her hand again and picked up a steady pace. Almost immediately your hips were moving of their own accord to match her, grinding down against her fingers as she worked them inside of you. Every thrust was heaven, the woman above you seemingly knowing exactly what you needed as she began to push into you harder and faster with each stroke.

Everything about it was satisfying the urges that had been threatening to overwhelm you. The brush of her hardened nipples against your chest as she moved above you. The frantic pants for breath into your mouth between heated and messy kisses. The intensity of how she was watching you and the subtle smirk on her lips as she knew how much you were enjoying what she was doing. When her thumb came up to brush over your clit you wanted to be embarrassed at the groan of pleasure that rang out in the room but you were too far gone now to care.

All of it was perfect. She was perfect. You could feel your head getting foggy, that faint twitch to your limbs as the pleasure was building in the pit of your stomach. As you tightened around Natasha’s fingers you craved the release that you knew was so close. The way her eyes were locked on you almost made you melt under her gaze, the darkened green eyes and pink tinged cheeks making sure you definitely wanted to have your way with her after this.

You could feel it happening, allowing the sensation of your orgasm to consume you as it started to hit with another brush of your clit and a curl of Natasha’s fingers. A loud cry of her name echoed off the walls at the action, your teeth sinking into the side of her neck in a failed attempt to muffle the noise. You couldn’t catch your breath at the feeling of satisfaction that finally swept over your body, hands gripping at her shoulders and toes curling into the mattress as you relished the moment. Your thighs quivered slightly and you could feel your pussy clenching around Natasha’s fingers, the red head groaning in quiet appreciation at the sensation. It was exactly what you needed.

And just as her fingers were beginning to still, you could already feel the arousal rising again. The tingles of pleasure had barely subsided and you hadn’t even had a chance to catch your breath before you were hungry for more. Natasha seemed to notice it at the same time you did, not missing the way your eyes had clouded over with lust again.

You were filled with relief when you caught her smirking and her fingers started to slowly move again.

Yeah, Natasha was definitely the right person to help you with this problem.

—//—

Find the morning after HERE

[xoxoavenger]

Crazy

pairing: Luke Skywalker x reader

summary: Y/N goes a little crazy when Luke doesn't return from his patrol, and she definitely outs their secret relationship.

word count: 3624

warnings: cannon typical injury

masterlist

"Do you have to go?" Y/N asked, grabbing Luke's arm before he slipped out of the bed.

"If I don't go now, people will get suspicious and come looking for me." Luke kissed her neck, and she rolled onto her back.

"I'm sorry you're so popular, but that's not my fault." Y/N said, eyes still closed and still hanging onto him.

"Y/N," Luke whined, falling back into bed with her as she pulled at him.

"I think you're sick today." Y/N said, placing her arms around him and making him as close as he could be to her.

"There will still be people looking for me. I have to go." Luke kissed her head, untangling himself from her. "You should probably get up too, Y/N." Luke began putting on the extensive layers he had to have on in order to not freeze on this ice planet.

"I don't want to." She mumbled, and he rolled his eyes fondly at her.

"Come on." Luke pulled her up, and she finally opened her eyes. Luke had two layers out of the five he normally put on for missions, and Y/N pouted.

"Why did you put your clothes on?" She asked, and Luke let out a small laugh.

"Because it's cold. You need to put your clothes on too." Luke grabbed Y/N's long sleeved under shirt, and she lifted her arms up so he could put it over her. "Are you ready to go to work today?" Luke asked, getting dressed himself after helping Y/N.

"No." She muttered, wiping her eyes. "Can you do my hair?" Y/N asked, and Luke smiled at her.

"I can't do it as well as Leia does, Y/N. You know that." Luke said, but he still moved behind Y/N and began braiding her hair in two sections. "Here's your hat, love." Luke put the hat on Y/N, and she smiled at him.

"Be careful." She said, leaning on her tip toes to kiss him. He kissed back, lips warm against her cold body.

"I'm always careful." He smirked as they parted.

"Keep talking like that and you'll sound like Han." Y/N smirked, and Luke huffed out a breath. "I'm serious, Luke. I don't know what I'd do without you." She placed her hands on his chest, wishing he would be closer to her than the millions of layers between them to keep them warm.

"I know. You'd go crazier than you already are, Y/N." Luke smiled, hands rubbing his hands up and down her hips.

"Stop it!" Y/N whined, hitting his chest.

"I love you." Luke said, bringing her close.

"I thought you had to leave." Y/N rested her head on his chest.

"I do." He kissed her forehead.

"I love you too." Y/N kissed Luke one more time before the separated and made their way to their respective jobs.

~

"Han? Where's Luke?" Y/N asked as soon as Han walked into the control room. She knew Luke hadn't checked in yet, and he never forgets.

"He's checking out a meteorite that hit near him." Han answered.

"Alone?"

"With all the meteor activity in this system, it's going to be difficult to spot approaching ships." Y/N's question was disregarded, and she felt her heart race. Something wasn't right.

"General, I got to leave. I can't stay anymore." Han said, and Y/N looked over at Leia. She knew the princess had feelings for the captain, even if she would never admit it out loud.

"What?" Leia turned to see Y/N staring at her.

"Tell him how you feel, Leia! You don't really want him to leave, do you?" Y/N asked, and Liea turned to look at Han again, who was still talking to the General.

"When are you going to tell Luke how you feel, Y/N?" Leia whispered, and Y/N rolled her eyes. Luke and her were still new at the whole love thing, so no one knew about what happened behind closed doors.

"Well, Your Highness, guess this is it." Han said, and Y/N and Leia turned to see Han now behind them.

"That's right." Leia nodded.

"We hate to see you go, Han." Y/N said, and Han shoved her slightly.

"Don't tell me things you don't mean." He smirked, before looking at Leia. "Well, don't get all mushy on me, Princess. So long." And then Han was out the door. Leia and Y/N shared a look before Liea was after him, leaving Y/N to wonder where Luke was.

~

"Han!" Y/N yelled, making the man stand up and move from under his ship.

"What now?" He asked, and Y/N shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

"Where's Luke?" She asked, and Han's face immediately changed to concern.

"What do you mean?"

"He hasn't come back yet. Leia and I don't know where he is, and the temperature is starting to drop and-"

"Hold on, honey. I don't know where he is." Han informed her.

"Nobody knows where he is." C-3PO informed them, and Y/N and Han turned to see the gold machine standing beside them.

"Nobody?" Y/N muttered.

"What do you mean, nobody knows?" Han asked, and Y/N's heart picked up its pace as if she was sprinting. "Deck Officer!" Han was yelling before 3PO could speak.

"Excuse me, sir, might I-"

"Shut it, 3PO." Y/N mumbled, following Han.

"Do you know where Commander Skywalker is?" Han asked.

"I haven't seen him." Y/N shut her eyes as the man spoke, trying to think of the best case scenario as stomach churned.

"Is it possible he came in through the south entrance?" Y/N asked, eyes still closed.

"Yes."

"It's possible? Why don't you go find out? It's getting dark out there." Han commanded.

"Yes, sir." The man responded, and it was quiet until Y/N felt hands on her shoulders.

"Y/N?" Han's voice cut through her thoughts, and she opened her eyes. "Are you alright? You're breathing really heavily." Han said, and Y/N nodded, although her breath intake increased.

"Hey, calm down. You're going to make yourself pass out." Han put a gloved hand on her face, and Y/N didn't react. "You probably need some sleep, I'm guessing. Are you tired?" Han had no idea what he was doing, but Luke's best friend was freaking out and normally he dealt with this sort of stuff.

"We need to find Luke." Y/N muttered, suddenly grabbing a helmet and scarf. She was putting them on, glassy look in her eyes.

"You need to stay here, Y/N." Han said, hands still on her shoulders. "Are you okay? You're shaking." Han was staring at Y/N, concerned. She was blinking rapidly and shaking behind the eye shield.

"I'm just cold. Come on, we need to find Luke." Y/N said, putting the helmet on.

"No, I'm going to find Luke. You're going to stay here." Han barely gave her time to finish her sentence. She began to walk away and he grabbed her, pulling her back. "Y/N, seriously. You're not going."

"Let go of me, Han, or I swear to-

"Stop fighting! You're not going!" Han yelled, and Y/N struggled in his arms weakly.

"I have to go! I have to help him!" Y/N yelled, but Han held onto her tightly.

"You can help him by staying here and working in the command center." He then moved to hug her, and she started to cry in his arms.

"Save him, please." She cried to him, and Han felt his heart break. Although Luke and Y/N never said anything about their relationship, Han knew there was something going on.

"I will. I promise."

~

"Sir, all the patrols are in." Y/N and Leia turned to hear the conversation between the two men.

"Still no-" Y/N turned her head as the man cut himself off, the pair obviously not wanting to say more because Leia and herself were there. "Still no contact from Skywalker or Solo." The man said quieter, and Leia grabbed Y/N's arm.

"Mistress Leia, Mistress Y/N, R2 says he's been quite unable to pick up any signals, although he does admit that his own range is far too weak to abandon all hope." 3PO informed them, and Y/N took a deep breath, wishing her emotions away.

"Your highness, there's nothing more we can do tonight." One of the men said to Leia, and Y/N turned her back to them, trying to clear her mind. It was going to be very cold at night, and Y/N knew it would be hard to survive.

"The shield doors must be closed."

"What?" Y/N cried out, spinning to face them.

"Y/N, we can't do anything until morning." Leia said, pain in her voice.

"They're going to freeze out there!" Y/N cried, and she heard Chewy let out a growl.

"Close the doors." Leia said, and Y/N felt her world collapse in on her, head spinning.

"He's going to die." Y/N mumbled, tears spilling out of her eyes. She looked to Leia, who had a sad frown on her face.

"We don't know that. Han and Luke are strong, Y/N, they can do this." Leia tried to comfort her, but Y/N just shook her head as more tears went tumbling down her cheeks. Just as she was about to fall, to let her body go numb, Chewy grabbed onto her, turning her to him and wrapping his long arms around her as she cried into his fur.

"R2 says the chances of survival are 725 to one." 3PO said, and then the loud clash of the door closing sounded, causing Y/N to cry out. 3PO kept talking, but Y/N drowned him out, sobbing into Chewbacca.

"I'm sure Luke and Han will be back in the morning." Leia's hand was at her back, and Y/N turned her face to see the princess, still holding tight to Chewy.

~

She slept the worst she has ever slept in her entire life, tossing and turning, her eyes not wanting to stay closed. Still, when she woke up, she was expecting to be in Luke's arms. Instead, she woke up next to a furball, and the pain of yesterday's events came crashing down. Y/N picked herself up, wiping a hand over her face. Her head was spinning, and her chest was hurting from her heart beating out of her chest for so long. She came out of the Millennium Falcon, which she barely remembers falling stumbling in and falling asleep, to see Leia pacing in the hanger.

"Did you even sleep?" Y/N asked, pulling her sleeves down.

"Did you?" Leia looked to Y/N, seeing the bags under her eyes, and then back to the open door. "They sent the rescue team out a little while ago. I'm waiting for word that they found them." Leia said over the irrelevant chatter of the rescue team.

"Hopefully they find something more than just frozen bodies." Y/N said, and Leia frowned at her.

"Have hope, Y/N. I'm sure they'll be okay." Leia put a hand on her shoulder, and Y/N smiled at her.

"Echo Base, this is Rouge Two. I've found them. Repeat, I've found them." Came through the comm, and Y/N and Leia both let out a sigh of relief, hugging each other. Y/N almost felt herself fall as her knees buckled, but Leia righted her.

Y/N and Leia awaited the plane that would be carrying Han and Luke, and Y/N rushed over to it as soon as they landed. Luke was being pushed on a medic carrier, and Y/N followed with it. He was pale, a black eye and cuts adorning his face. Y/N pushed the hair out of his face, feeling his cold skin.

"We need to get him into a bacta tank." Someone said, and Y/N looked up.

"Will he be okay?" Y/N asked, and someone in front of her stopped, making her stop. Luke kept going, and Y/N tried to get around the medic.

"He'll be fine, Ma'am. He will need to spend at least ten hours in the bacta tank, which is a hard sight to see. Are you sure you want to stay with him?" The man asked, and Y/N furrowed her brows in anger.

"Get out of my way." She said, pushing past him and running to keep up with Luke. She watched as he was hooked up to a breathing tube, and then stripped down. The droids slipped a machine over his arms before lifting him into the tank. Y/N made her way forwards toward the tank, placing her hands on the glass as she looked at Luke. He was completely unconscious, and every so often a droid attached to the tank would shock him, causing his back to arch and his body to tense.

Y/N stayed at the tank for twelve hours, sitting next to and leaning on it while watching Luke. She needed to make sure he was okay.

"You should get some sleep. He'll be pulled out soon." Han said, putting a hand on Y/N's shoulder. Han and Leia had been in and out with C-3PO and R2-D2, but Y/N had stayed the entire time, only eating a small portion of the food they had brought.

"I'm okay." Y/N said, smiling up at Han and wiping a hand across her face. He grimaced, and Y/N looked up at Luke, wishing he could just be close to her. Watching him float in the tank lifelessly was unsettling, and all she wanted to do was cuddle with him for an entire solstice.

"You need to sleep at some point. Chewy told me you barley slept on the Falcon last night, and it's getting late." Han told her, and Y/N looked back to him

"Exactly. I slept last night so I'm fine." Y/N told him.

"You need to eat and sleep, and then Luke will be out." Han pushed, and Y/N stood up.

"Why do you care? You were going to leave anyway." Y/N crossed her arms, and Han looked almost hurt.

"I was just trying to help you. Don't want you looking like more of a mess than normal when he comes out." Han said, and Y/N punched his shoulder.

"That's for leaving me here." Y/N seethed, and Han rolled his eyes.

"You would have died out there in your state. I was doing you a favor." He explained, and Y/N pushed Han. It wasn't hard, since she was so weak, but it still angered Han.

"Doing me a favor? I was trying to save him and you stopped me."

"You were going crazy, Y/N! You can't blame me for not taking you." He said, and Y/N frowned.

"I also promised Luke I wouldn't put you in danger if he were to go missing." Han said softly, and Y/N looked to her unconscious lover.

"Why?" She whispered, placing a hand on the tank.

"He loved you, ya know."

"Yeah, I do." Y/N let a tear slip out of her eye, and Han wiped it away.

"He'll be okay." He said, bringing Y/N into a side hug.

"I know, but I just want him to be okay now." She mumbled, placing her other hand on the tank, leaning against it.

"Will you rest now?" Han asked, hoping he'd get to her after that talk.

"I'm okay here." Y/N said, and Han sighed, but left to sleep anyway.

~

"Mistress Y/N?" Y/N woke up to 3PO's voice, and she looked around to realize she was still in the room they were keeping Luke in. She sat up, looking up to see Luke still floating in the tank. "They're taking Master Luke out now." 3PO informed her, and she stood to see Han and Leia also in the room. The droid detached from the tank, and Y/N stood with the others to watch Luke be lifted out of the tank. They set him on a bed, then toweled him down. They put new clothes on him and then whisked him away, Y/N in tow. Leia and Han met her on the way, and the three of them followed the bed until a droid stopped them.

"No humans allowed until Commander Skywalker is awake." The droid said, and Y/N scowled.

"I'm his girlfriend." Y/N explained.

"Doesn't matter. Commander Skywalker needs his rest." The droid responded.

"Well how long is that gonna take?" Han stepped up, defending Y/N.

"A least a few hours."

"What? No, I want to see him now." Y/N said, trying to get past the droid. It didn't budge.

"I'm afraid you can't. Please go to your room, and we will have you notified when he wakes."

"No! I'm going to be with him in there." Y/N tried to push the droid away, but he did nothing.

"Move, you big bag of bolts!" She cried, but the droid did not let her through.

"Y/N, it'll probably be good for you to get some sleep." Leia put a hand on her shoulder, but Y/N shrugged it off.

"I don't want sleep, I want to see him!" She yelled, but the droid still stood in her way. "I swear to the Imperial Army I will rip you apart piece by piece if you don't let me through." Y/N threatened, however the droid seemed uninterested.

"We'll get clearance from the General. This isn't the hill you want to die on." Leia said, and Y/N turned to her. She looked at Leia, and then at Han, and suddenly she deflated.

"I just want to be with him. Make sure he's okay." She said, crying for what seemed like the millionth time. Leia wrapped her up in a hug, and she let out a breath against her.

"He'll be okay. He's in good hands. You should get some rest." Leia pulled away and winked, and Y/N just nodded. It appeared that Leia had a plan, and knowing her it was probably a good one.

"We're terribly sorry about that." 3PO said as they walked away, and once they turned the corner, Leia began to talk.

"We're sneaking you in here tonight." She mumbled, and the group continued walking.

"How?" Y/N asked, looking at Leia, but she was looking straight ahead,

"It's cold enough at night that there aren't many alive rebels that work in the medical wing, and droids are charging." Leia explained, still looking ahead as they began walking.

"I'll come get you from your room in two hours." Leia finished as they came up to Y/N's room. She honestly almost forgot she had her own room, spending so much time in Luke's.

"Thank you." Y/N smiled at them both, hugged Leia and then went to her room.

~

She couldn't sleep. She knew Luke was perfectly fine, but not being able to see and feel him made her on edge. She almost fainted at the knock on her door. Y/N opened it way to eagerly, smiling at Leia.

It was cold in the hallways, since it was night now. Y/N shivered as she walked through the empty space, making her way slowly to where Luke was.

"Do you know which room he's in?" Y/N asked, coming up upon the many doors leading to rooms.

"While you were throwing your tantrum, I was watching to see which room they put him in." Leia smirked, opening the door to her right. Y/N smiled, hugged Leia, and then quickly went into the room.

"Oh, Luke." Y/N mumbled, seeing Luke laying on the bed asleep. His hair covered his closed eyes partially, and his skin was still pale, making his injuries seem worse. She pushed herself onto his bed, laying down next to him. "You dumbass." Y/N whispered, clinging to him. His body was warm, and Y/N kissed his cheek, hand going to rest on his chest and leg wrapped around him.

Finally, finally, she fell into a peaceful sleep.

~

"You're not supposed to be here." Y/N woke to the stupid droids voice, and she sat up.

"I'm sorry." Y/N mumbled, moving from Luke. She looked at him, and he was still sleeping. She felt like she hadn't gotten any sleep, and she realized she hadn't been asleep for long.

"I'm going to ask you to leave, Ma'am." The droid said, and Y/N let a little breath out.

"It's fine, Med. You can go to your next patient." A human said at the door, and Y/N smiled slightly.

"Thank you." She said to the man at the door, who nodded and turned the light off.

~

Lips on hers. That's what she finally woke up to.

Chapped, bruised, swollen lips, but they most definitely belonged to the one and only Luke Skywalker.

Y/N opened her eyes, pushing Luke away lightly. She was still in his bed in the medic wing, and when she sat up, she noticed Han, Leia, Chewy, 3PO and R2 were also in the room. Y/N blushed, and Luke brought her closer.

"What happened?" Y/N asked, and Luke shook his head, cuddling closer to her.

"I got taken by a snow monster, and it was really cold." Luke mumbled, and Y/N rolled her eyes, holding him close as well.

"Well, it seems you two get along very well. When did this happen?" Han asked, and Y/N sunk farther into the bed.

"A lot of things happen behind your back, Han." Luke said smugly, and Y/N smiled.

"It's cute that you think this was behind my back."

"I'm glad you're okay." Y/N said, looking up at Luke and pretending Han hadn't just spoke.

"I am too. I heard you went crazy and threw a tantrum without me." Luke smirked, and Y/N hit his chest, beginning to move away. "It's kinda cute." Luke said, pulling Y/N closer to him.

"You're about to die again, Commander Skywalker." Y/N threatened, and Luke rolled his eyes and brought her close up to him.

"I'm so glad you're not already crazy."

[jaesqueso]

A cheater’s punishment (m)

pairing: boyfriend!jeno x fem!reader x boyfriend!jaemin

summary: jeno thinks his girlfriend might be cheating on him and jaemin helps him found out and give her the proper punishment

word count: 1,548

warnings: mentions of cheating, fingering, oral sex (giving and receiving), protected sex, double penetration, threesome

a/n: loosely based off this ask, NoMin might be my favourite threesome pairing after JohnJae... anyway, do give me some feedback please! ❤︎

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

“Yo Jaemin, we gotta cancel again…” Jeno says sadly on the other side of the phone.

“Again?” Jaemin replies. “When am I ever going to meet that girlfriend of yours?”

“She says she wants to take things slow, I think she might be scared to start meeting my friends…” Jeno sighs. “Or maybe I’m not the only one in her life…”

“Hey, don’t say that, why would she ever cheat on you?”

“I don’t know man, but she’s always cancelling our plans.”

“We could try to find out…”

“What do you mean?”

“Come over.” Jaemin hangs up.

Jeno walks to the youngest’s apartment. Could it be that his girl is cheating on him? The thought went round and round in his head. Was he not enough for her?

As he walks through the door Jeno goes straight to the living room and sinks in the couch with a sigh.

“So what did she said she was doing that she couldn’t have dinner with us?” Jaemin asks sitting next to the oldest.

“She said she had a group project to do for one of her classes but either this is a big ass project or I don’t know what she’s been doing for the last few weeks.”

“That could be true though…” Jaemin takes his hand to his chin. “Any other things you’ve noticed?”

“Well, she’s always very protective over her phone, never replies to her calls or answers any texts around me.”

“Maybe she just wants your times together free of technology.”

“Yeah I thought that too at first but one time we were on a date and when I was coming back from the bathroom she was all giggly texting. Then when she saw me approach she quickly changed her expression and put the phone away.” Jeno takes his hands to his face. “Maybe I’m just overreacting, I don’t know.”

“It does sound a little suspicious but it doesn’t necessarily means she’s cheating-” Jaemin is interrupted by his doorbell.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Jeno asks.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s the girl I’ve been seeing, I forgot to tell her dinner was cancelled.” Jaemin says as he walks to the door. Jeno was supposed to meet Jaemin’s girlfriend today too, so he glances at the door to at least see what she looks like.

“Hey babe.” Jaemin says, opening the door and giving you a kiss.

“Hey.” You smile walking inside and closing the door.

“Look, I’m sorry I forgot to tell you, dinner was cancelled.” He apologises.

“Oh, really? That’s a shame.” You sadly say but then put a smirk on your face. “Does that mean I got you all to myself-”

“Y/N?” Jeno says approaching the doorway.

“Jeno?” You widen your eyes not expecting to see him.

“Wait, you guys know each other?” Jaemin asks confused looking between the two of you.

“Well Jaemin, this is my girlfriend!” Jeno almost shouts.

“What? No, this is my girlfriend!” The boys look at each other and then to you.

“I-I can explain…” You say as you step back to the door about to flee.

“Oh don’t even think about it!” Jaemin blocks the door. “You’ve been dating both of us?”

“Is this why you cancelled dinner? To be with him?” Jeno asked.

“I…” You look between them and then take a deep breath deciding it was time to end this. “Look, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I met you two around the same time and things started to develop and I couldn’t bring myself to choose between you-”

“So you decided to date us both?” Jeno yells in disbelief.

“To be fair I never agreed to be any of you guys girlfriend-” You stop as they glare at you. “I’m sorry, ok?”

“I can’t believe this…” Jeno mutters.

“What are we going to do with you?” You look up at Jaemin sensing a teasing tone on his voice. “You fucked up Y/N, now you need to be punished. Isn’t that right, Jeno?”

“W-What?” He looks up at Jaemin with widen eyes.

“She can’t just play with both of us like that.” Jaemin walks to Jeno placing his arm around his shoulders. “Maybe it’s our time to play with her now.”

You gulp as Jeno thinks for a while.

“You know what? Maybe she does need to be punished.” He looks at you, the anger in his eyes replaced by lust.

They both walk towards you and you back away until you hit a wall. The way they look at you automatically creates a pool in your panties. Each of them grabs one of your hands and they lead you to Jaemin’s room.

Once there, Jaemin sits on the bed pulling you with him so you’re laying across his lap. You yelp as he pulls your dress up exposing your damp underwear.

“Wow, is the thought of being punished by your two lovers getting you this wet?” You bite your lip realising what Jaemin said is true.

“Answer him.” Jeno says sitting next to Jaemin and pulling your head up by your hair. “Does it turn you on that you’re about to get destroyed by the two guys you’ve been deceiving?”

“Yes!” You almost scream as Jaemin removes you panties and gives a strong spank to your butt.

“Such a bad girl.” Jaemin says as you feel another spank.

Jeno starts to unbutton his pants to take out his half hard dick. You grab it with one of your hands and stroke it slowly as Jaemin keeps spanking you, his fingers lightly touching your folds each time.

Every time his hand lays on your ass you let out a quiet moan that Jeno is quick to cover as he pushes his member past your lips. You bob your head as best as you can and Jaemin stops spanking you to ease two fingers inside your pussy.

“Jeno do you see this? She’s so wet they slide right in” Jaemin grins as he pumps his fingers in and out.

“Fuck, I gotta taste that.” Jeno gently pushes your head off him and pulls you up to remove your clothes and his own.

As Jaemin gets undressed too, Jeno lays you on the bed spreading your legs wide in front of him.

You let out a loud moan as he starts licking and sucking your clit. In the meantime Jaemin leans over your chest sucking one of your nipples while massaging your other breast.

You feel a wave of pleasure running through your body and soon you cum in Jeno’s mouth. As you ride off your high Jaemin moves his mouth to your lips. You take his cock in your hand and stroke it as you hear Jeno go to the bedside table to pull out a condom. He lays down next to you and rolls the rubber down his length.

“Come here.” He kisses your shoulder and you let go of Jaemin’s mouth to look at him. “Ride me.”

You move to straddle him and ease yourself slowly down his member. You both moan as you take in all is length. You then start to bounce on him as he lifts his hands to massage your breasts.

Jaemin goes to the bedside table and takes out a bottle of lube coating two of his fingers. He gently pushes you to lay on Jeno’s chest and the oldest holds your hips pounding into you instead. Jaemin teases your butt hole with his lubed fingers then pushing one of them inside. You whimper as another finger slides in your back door stretching you out.

“Are you going to be a good girl and take us at the same time?” Jaemin leans over you and whispers in your ear.

“Yes…” You moan. You never took two guys at the same time but just the thought of it was getting you closer to another orgasm.

Jeno ceases his movements remaining inside you as Jaemin removes his fingers and aligns his dick, that he also covered with a well lubed condom, in your empty hole. You squirm as he pushes himself inside you and Jeno gives you a passionate kiss to distract your pain.

Jaemin massages your back biting his lip and once he feels you relax around his length he starts moving in and out. The pain quickly turns into pleasure as Jeno resumes his movements in your other hole.

You are a moaning mess as they pound into you and soon enough your reach another orgasm. As you clench your walls, Jeno soon follows you spilling his seed inside the condom. He remains inside you holding you steady as Jaemin keeps slamming into your ass. A few more thrusts and he too cums inside his own rubber.

As breaths get steadier and highs come down, they remove themselves from you discarding the condoms. You three lay in bed side by side looking at the ceiling.

“Maybe you don’t have to choose between the two of us,” Jaemin tells you and then turns to the other boy, ”what do you say, Jeno?”

“I guess I’m ok with sharing if I know I’m doing it.” You all chuckle.

“Well if I knew this could happen I would’ve came clean a lot sooner!” You giggle as they both nudge your shoulders.

[sweetberrysmooch]

HC: And There Was Only One Bed (Affectionate) [pt. 1]

(Zzzzzzz.....)

(This is unfortunately gonna have to be in several parts, mainly so I can get something out to you guys while still being able to work on the rest ^^)

Basic sleeping hcs with ya boys, and sort of... smell hcs? Idk, I got into a mood and couldn’t stop writing about smells so here it goes lol.

Characters: Dream, Techno, Wilbur.

Warnings: There’s mentions of nightmares in Dream’s and a emotional breakdown in Wilbur’s, but that’s it.

Song Recommendation: Dream A Little Dream Of Me- The Mamas & Papas.

Up Next- Quackity, George, and Bad. [pt. 2]

Hope you have nice day today <3 Enjoy!

Dream:

Depending on where you’ve fallen asleep, Dream will kind of work with your position before he lets himself relax.

He prefers it when the two of you are in your bed, with him near the closest door and on his back and with you sleeping against his side, arm stretched over his middle. It’s a good way for him to be between any intruders that may come and to still have you close. But no matter where you are, he has to make sure that he can protect you before he lets his guard down.

Another position he likes is when you’re tucked against his chest under his chin, sitting on his lap or curled up together in bed. Being tall with a broad chest means he makes a pretty good pillow, so use those puppies when you can 👀👀

Smells like a forest, most times. Almost like wild honey, but it’s a very delicate smell. You don’t notice it until your first hug, when you were upset and crying and he pulled you to into his arms so you could hide your face. Now you smell it everywhere he is, in your house, on your bed, even your clothes smell like him. Neither of you say anything, but he slowly begins leaving his soap at your house. Just in case, y’know, if you ever run out.

Other times, when he seems a little more... off, he smells like the beginning to a storm, like ozone and petrichor. Those days he doesn’t speak that much, and keeps you at arms length. He sits quietly and watches your doors and windows with obvious intent, and is gone before morning. You don’t think he even moved from his spot throughout the night, much less slept there. You don’t see him for a few days afterwards.

Usually he remains as still as a log, but sometimes he has fidgeting fits where he twitches and grumbles to himself. Sometimes you’ll even catch him speaking full-on sentences, though they don’t make much sense. Mostly normal out of place stuff, but once you heard him talking about someone called DreamXD, and figured you’d ask him about his oc the next morning.

He has nightmares often too. It’s hard to tell when he’s asleep but he’ll wake up sweating and trembling and lean over you to check you’re still breathing. He won’t ever tell you what they’re about, but it isn’t hard to guess when he buries his nose into your hair and holds you tightly like you might leave him.

If the two of you aren’t sleeping in your house or completely alone, he won’t sleep until you are. Sleep loss doesn’t quite affect him like it does others until after a pretty long time of not doing it, to which he’ll become surlier and more angry until he eventually just clocks out. He wakes up extremely well rested 2 days later and the process repeats. Sleeping at your house is the closest he gets to proper sleeping, and it’s the only time he can ever feel truly relaxed when doing so.

When he can’t fall asleep, he goes straight to watching you. He gently plays with your hair and fiddles with your fingers, relishing in how unmarred and soft they are in comparison to his much rougher, bigger ones. It’s a sure fire way to get him to mellow out and relax, and he finds that sleep ends up coming much quicker.

(Dream wakes up in warmth one night, with rain knocking on window panes instead of what ever shelter he could scrape together and a fire crackling far off. He deduces immediately that he’s in someones house, and it doesn’t take long before he notices the owner, asleep in his lap. 

Your legs are slung over the arm of the padded chair he’s sitting in, a book (one of his own, he acknowledges, an older version of a well known storybook that he has memorized already) loosely held onto in your hands, and your head rests on his shoulder. 

He expects to feel worried soon, the fear of you getting close to him reappearing to ruin another close moment. But it never comes. All he can feel is the safety and comfort you always emanate, driving away his tension and soothing his mind. He closes his eyes, and falls back asleep.)

Techno:

Techno is very very touch starved ^^; While he may not be the only one on this list that is, Techno is definitely the most…. shy about it. He won’t ever directly ask to sleep next to you, and will actively try to avoid that. He’s afraid of making you uncomfortable but also of being close to you in general? It’s an odd mix of emotions, like eating mints and a hot pepper at the same time and then feeling hell fire burn inside of your body. Anytime the two of you have to sleep in the same room as each other, he will immediately offer you the better spot and go find a chair to sleep in, and he won’t accept a no.

The most you can do is make the choice to go sleep next to him. It’ll weird him out a little before becoming overwhelmingly endearing when he processes the fact that you would rather sleep next to him than somewhere more pleasant. When you’re asleep however, he’ll pick you up and move you to the place where he wanted you to be. He’ll drape his massive cape over your body and (after assuring himself six different times that you are in fact asleep) softly press a kiss to the crown of your head. If he runs his thumb over your cheek once, then thats his business.

Later on in your relationship though, after he relaxes and settles a bit, it’s pretty unusual if you don’t fall asleep next to him. He still won’t outright ask for it, but he kinda just hopes that when he starts his nightly routine before bed that you’ll just join him without needing to be asked. Having you there helps him sleep better, you act as both a silencer for the voices and someone to hold close when he’s at his most vulnerable.

When sleeping in bed together, he prefers to pull you close and curl around you in a half pulled fetus position. He’s usually a heavy sleeper, and actively clings on to you when asleep. It's an impressive feat if you can break free from his strong arms while they’re wrapped around your middle, and you leaving inevitably wakes him up. He’ll go searching for you then, barely awake, just to pull you back to bed to be his teddy bear again.

And speaking of the voices, while generally they’re loud and insistent, occupying his mind more than he does at times, their reaction to you baffles him so much. In place of the usual screaming is gentle mumbling, quiet whispers about how nice you look today or how pink and soft your cheeks look. It’s a welcome relief, and no matter how he hard he ignores the fact that he’s wrapped around your finger, he’s glad to know they care for you as much as he does.

He also smells pretty nice, it’s this natural musk he has mixed with a muted minty scent. The mint smell comes from this fancy soap Phil had gotten him a while back that he hadn’t given much thought about until you said something. Techno’s already a clean kind of guy, but after hearing your praises of his smell he almost begs Phil to get him more.

Snores, but in a quiet reserved way. Sometimes he makes soft cute noises, like little happy sounds when you snuggle into him more, or bashful grumbles when you kiss him before bed.

(Sunlight flickers through the blinds of Techno’s room, streaking across your face and waking you from sleep. Sighing quietly, you lift your head a little and stretch as best you can while being held in place at his side, before snuggling back into your spot, fully content to stay there for the rest of the morning. 

As you enjoy the moment, you savor the gentle snores that rumble in his chest, his strong heart thumping beneath your ear, and the way his hand kneads your hip as he wakes. 

‘It’s a good morning to sleep in.’ Your mind says quietly, and with how he rolls over to face you and kiss your forehead, it seems Techno thinks so too.)

Wilbur:

The way Wilbur sleeps really depends on what Wilbur it is.

To start off though, a few general things. He’s a neat sleeper, doesn’t snore, doesn’t move a whole lot, and smells pretty nice too. His smell also came from a fancy soap he got from Phil, but it smelled like sugar and lemons and it was a lot heavier than Techno’s. He would always take showers before bed because he knew you liked how it smelled, and often he would offered to share it with you (so that you would smell like him). Once he was exiled, he didn’t have the liberty of bathing as frequently as he used to, and he stopped using the fancy soap because he thought it felt tainted. He’d end up smelling like stale air and gunpowder, though he’d never tell you what the smell was from.

With sleep, if it’s pre-Pogtopia Wilbur, you get a fairly standard sleeping arrangement of him crawling up into between your legs to flop down on your stomach with a sigh, waiting impatiently for you to get comfortable and curl around him like you usually do. Your hand comes to cradle his head closer to your chest and he nuzzles into your collarbone before falling asleep near immediately. The two of you wake up tangled completely together and immensely comfortable. Wilbur used to sleep in on days like that, quietly savoring the peace that came with you and your generous hands that would slowly brush through his sleep-messed hair. Even after the election, when he starts descending into madness, the memories serve as a final comfort to him.

Post-Pogtopia Wilbur (Vilbur, if you will) is a stark contrast to his old self. He’s more bitter, more reserved, and even more paranoid. He doesn’t sleep with you anymore, at least never consistently, and the only times he does is when he’s so emotionally fraught that he passes out from the stress and lack of sleep midway through you trying to calm him down. You usually end up just kind of holding him close, praying that when he wakes up you can settle him before he works himself up again. You fall asleep like that, tired and restless.

(He rouses from sleep a few hours later, curled up in your arms and still exhausted from the breakdown. Your chest rises and falls slowly behind him, face smushed into his hair and completely relaxed. 

For a moment, all is calm again. He can pretend that it’s just how it used to be before the election had happened, that the two of you are back at home, happy and stable. 

His hands tremble when they reach for yours, and he grants himself the freedom to cry while you’re still sleeping, ignoring the fact that the next day will be just like the last, and that nothing has changed.)

See you next time :D

[twistedmusings]

Vil Schoenheit: After VDC Results

“I’m going to ask again, Prefect.”

“Are you going to walk me out?” 

A/N: Only thing I learned from this Chapter is to not trust a Stan kids, because they will ruin the even for the rest of us. 

Needless to say I have now officially began to simp for Vil, happy to find myself among you, Vil stans. 

If you haven’t read part one, here it is! 

Warnings: Chapter 5 spoilers, Lime soda (implied sexy times!) and de-stressing makeout session for Vil.

Vil had almost tried to kill someone today. 

It seemed strange to say, since it was somebody’s life at stake, but he had come to terms that he had shown everybody in his team a side of himself he hoped they would never see. 

He had shown you a side of himself he hoped you would never see. 

After the ‘incident’, you two had barely talked. You weren’t necessarily avoiding him and he wasn’t avoiding you either. There were just a few moments before the VDC officially started and despite the pain in his body telling him to at least sit down, the need to make it to the end of the stage triumphed as he gave it his all out there. 

Blood, sweat and tears. He had shed them all with no regrets. 

So as he stood there, confetti raining down as the people cheered in the grand coliseum for Neige’s song and not his, he was slowly coming to terms with another realization. 

That he wouldn’t let Rook participate in anything he ever did again…ever. 

Two years. Two YEARS he had known this mysterious man and yet there was NOTHING that had tipped him off to Rook being a fan of Neige. Oh no, not just a fan. 

An extremely devoted fan. 

“...Roi de Neige...it really is such an honor!” 

Neige’s laugh was still like metal against a chalkboard to Vil’s ears, smiling as he held Rook’s hand as the other waxed poetic about his performance. He had to turn away, tears still pricking at the corners of his eyes as he wiped them away with Rook’s handkerchief. His life was just one ironic twist after another, wasn’t it? And how frustrating, to be so close to standing first and to be betrayed by someone who he thought he could trust--! 

“Stand proud and say that you are the fairest of them all, Vil! And I am sure that even the Magic Mirror wouldn’t be able to deny it!”

He chuckles as the fanfare continues, looking down at the offending piece of cloth before shaking his head and going over to his friend, handing him back the handkerchief. 

“Go on, wipe your tears. It is your handkerchief after all.” 

Rook’s surprised face was a sight for sore eyes as he dried his tears. “Thank you, Roi de Poison.” 

“Hehe~ There is Vi-kun’s usual smile~!” 

Enjoy it while it lasts, bastard. The moment we get back to Pomefiore you are going to regret not drinking that juice and melting from the inside out because I am going to make you WISH that you were nothing but a puddle of boiling goop after I am done with you, you son of a bit--

“Vil-senpai!” 

His head turns around slowly, watching you run towards the stage before flashing your staff pass at the bodyguards trying to stop you, just like how he taught you. He clears his throat as he straightens himself out, turning his whole body towards you as the stadium quiets down around him. 

Or maybe he was just paying attention to your voice only. 

“One vote.” you give him a forced smile, “Just by one vote, huh?” 

Vil points a thumb at Rook, “The guilty party is over there.” 

You peek behind him, eyebrows shooting up when you see your other upperclassman holding the hand of the team’s supposed rival and silently crying. 

“...that...the VDC really is full of surprises…” 

You both look at each other before smiling as you share a giggle, your hand going to Vil’s arm and giving it a soft squeeze before letting go.

He doesn’t want to think about what he would have done if you had been the one deciding vote. For a brief moment while the announcement was being made he thought that you had been that person, the one person he wished to curse and hate. Vil tried to imagine it, imagine directing all his anger towards you and promising you that every single day you remained at Night Raven College would be hell because of what you had taken from him. 

Would he have gone through with it? Who knows? 

Vil is a lot more relieved about the fact that you placed your trust in the team he had created and voted for him. 

“How annoying.” 

“Truly.” 

“There goes our heater money.” 

“I agree--what?” 

You turn to him, smiling as you gesture down to the hiccuping Grimm in your arms. He had tired himself out from crying and the headache that followed after had kept him glued to your arms. 

“I know he said that he was going to buy tuna with the money we would have gotten but I was thinking of buying a heater for Ramshackle.” you pout, “You guys were all complaining about how cold it was before using magic to make the entire dorm room cold proof. For a brief moment my dream of having heated floors came true.” 

Vil catches you staring at Neige, your stare not one of admiration but of clear frustration and annoyance. 

“And it wasn’t like his song was that good. It was catchy. Catchy turns straight up annoying in a few days. Watch people complain about how they wish it wasn’t stuck in their heads all the time, I give it a week.” 

Maybe it was the strong emotions he was feeling right now, or the fact that he had come to terms with another set of emotions that were directed towards you a long time ago but Vil immediately grabs your hand and holds it close to his heart, your eyes turning to look at him as he stares at you with fierce intensity. 

He wanted you to feel it. Could you feel how fast his heart was beating? 

“Potato, no, Prefect--” 

Your eyes widened, it was the first time he had referred you with that title. 

“I want you to know that I--” 

“Vi-kun!” 

The Pomefiore dorm leader can feel the vein in his head beginning to throb as he hears his rival’s voice, the Royal Sword Academy student smiling as he came up to him and grabbed his hand. 

“Let’s sing together! If we all sing together I’m sure it would be a lot more fun!” 

Neige smiles as he grabs Vil’s hand, quickly interlocking their fingers together as the other complains about the distance. His eyes meet yours before he grins and gives you a peace sign. 

“I’m going to steal him away real quick, I hope you don’t mind!” 

“Neige!” 

You blink before smiling as you wave goodbye, hugging Grimm close to you as you watch Vil be dragged away by Neige to the center of the stage. The small familiar in your arms groans as he hears the music start up again. “Not agaaaaain. Make it stoooop. My tunaaaaaaa!” 

With a giggle, you scratch the top of his head as he buries his face in the crook of your arm. 

“Go back to sleep, Grimmy. Let’s go back home.” 

The music blares behind you as you hum along to the song, bobbing your head to the beat as Vil’s voice comes through loud and clear despite the cheers and the fanfare. 

“See you guys again!” 

You smile and hug Grimm close, walking towards the exit of the Coliseum.

What a bummer. Guess you couldn’t work up the courage to tell him after all.  

--------

“You guys got everything?” 

“Ah wait!” Kalim rushes back into Ramshackle as Jalim pinches the bridge of his nose, “I forgot Vil’s face stuff!” 

You smile at Jalim, “You always seem to have your hands full.” 

“Isn’t that an understatement.” he smiles, “Are you that eager to get us out of here, Prefect?” 

“Not at all. I’ll be really lonely once you guys leave.” 

Jalim stares at you before looking back at the Ramshackle door, his actions making you laugh as you pat his back and head inside. Guy wasn’t used to people being that honest, was he? You smile when Kalim meets you at the bottom of the stairs, hugging you close and saying quick goodbyes as Jamil called out to him for the second time. 

“There they go…” 

You whistle a low tune as you head upstairs, letting out a huge sigh as you flop down on your bed.

It was the most perfect opportunity...and you blew it. 

Vil had been living with you for almost a whole MONTH and you only managed to have a decent conversation with him maybe three times. And you weren’t going to count that awkward moment you two shared that night. 

Probably the reason he didn’t talk to you at all after that! 

He had been concentrating so hard to win this competition and all you needed to do was just give him some good words of support, not go off about how you thought he was the ‘fairest’ in all of the school! What kind of STUPID confession was that! You wanted to be smooth about it and maybe ask him if he wanted to come with you to the Monstro Lounge after all of this was over. 

At least you had gotten some decent words through. It had been inspiring to watch him work. You didn’t really have an opinion on him when you two first met but watching him put his everything into this one competition made you want to put everything into finding a way back home. 

And like always, feelings of admirations grew to something else. 

Something annoying and unnecessary. 

Vil probably saw right through you, the way you would wake up early to catch him humming in the showers as you brushed your teeth. No, he probably caught on when you complimented every single meal he made when it was his turn to cook. Or maybe he caught on when you straight up admitted that you thought he was the most beautiful person on campus. 

You laugh as you sling your arm over your eyes. 

“I’m so messy.” 

A knock on your door bolts you up from your bed. You knew it wasn’t Grimm since he had taken dibs on the bath first and was probably enjoying the hot water you wish you could enjoy as well. Amethyst eyes meet yours as Vil stares at you, bag on the floor by his side as you two stare each other down.  

“...should I just leave?” 

“No!” you immediately get up and walk over to him, “Let me walk you out. It is the duty of a Prefect to see all the guests out, after all~” 

“You only have one other member living in your dorm, potato.” 

“Doesn’t mean I should ignore the title given to me. That’s what Riddle taught me.” 

You make a move to walk out into the hallway but his arm stops you, blocking your way as your eyes look into the deep purple linen. It must be really soft to touch-- “Oi.” 

Whoops, lost in thought again. 

“You say something?” 

Vil sighs and you were expecting the usual disappointed look but your heart nearly beat out of your chest when you saw him smile, your hands clenching into tight fists as you step back two steps. 

“You were talking about responsibilities of a dorm leader, so I’m doing my responsibility as well. I’m thanking you.” 

“Ha! Vil-senpai you shouldn’t be thanking me, it was the Headmaster’s decision after all.” 

Even then he shouldn’t be thanking you, if anything you should be thanking him. 

“So you’re just going to refuse my gratitude?” his fingers brush away some strands of your hair, “Did Riddle only teach you one thing?” 

You try to count by 5’s in your head as your face heats up, how were you still standing up? 

“Sorry. You’re right.” you take a deep breathe, “You’re welcome. I’m glad my dorm could be of some service.” 

It was a good idea to leave out the ‘to you’, it would probably creep him out. 

Silence hung heavy in the room as the two of you heard the clock tick away at the minutes, Vil’s arm still blocking your exit to the hallway. 

“Uhm...Vil-senpai?” 

“I want to have no regrets for this VDC, potato. As frustrating as it is...I gave it my all and I lost.” 

You open your mouth to try and console him but he stops you with just a stare. “But I have no regrets on how I approached this. The method was perfect and the song was perfect. I even managed to shape some rough looking potatoes into decent enough students.” 

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and picking his words carefully. 

“But I intend to leave this experience with no regrets whatsoever. Both on and off the stage.” 

You tilt your head, “As in?” 

The ticking of the clock stops for a moment as your chin is tilted upwards, starts up again when you feel a hand on your cheek pull you close and stops entirely when a pair of lips press against your own. 

Your arms hang uselessly at your sides as Vil kisses you, his lips unmoving while the hand holding your cheek slithers all the way down to your waist. A shiver runs all the way from the soles of your feet to the top of your head, the sudden rush of warmth making you pull away. 

Yet he selfishly clung to you. 

“Are you going to walk me out, Prefect?” 

The answer is quick as you wrap your arms around his neck, quickly pulling him down for another kiss. His heels click harshly against the wooden flooring as you two walk backwards and fall on your bed, the purple linen you had admired earlier now caressing your arms as you pull away for a quick breather. 

“Vil--” 

He takes advantage of your open mouth, tongue pushing inside and pressing against yours as he pulls your arms away from his neck and pins them to the bedding. You want to keep your eyes open, want to see Vil in ways you hoped nobody else had seen before. The circlet on his head probably disheveled from the rough tumble you two had, the eyeliner pressed so neatly against his eyelid, the way his fingers so delicately kept you from moving as his thumb caressed your wrist. 

You can’t help but whine as he pulls away, trying to follow his lips but being kept in place by those hands on his. Vil watches you take deep gulps of air, his hands squeezing your wrists to keep you in place before moving away to  take off the circle on top of his head as he laid it gingerly on the pillow next to your head. 

“I’m going to ask again, Prefect.” 

Vil presses a kiss to your eyelid, moving down to your cheek and finally your chin as his fingers toy with the first button of your pajama shirt. 

“Are you going to walk me out?” 

He smiles when you hold out your arms open for him, your eyes begging him to not leave you alone. 

Tongues meet before lips as Vil shrugs off his robe and makes himself comfortable in your arms, grabbing his magic pen and flicking his wrist in order to shut the door to your room and locking it. 

Obviously he would have to leave before the raccoon was done with his bath, but he was intending to finish this VDC with no regrets. 

So the little furball could wait. 

--------

Omake: 

“Oi!!! Why did you lock the door!” 

“Grimm don’t come in here!” 

“Hah? You know this is my room too!” 

“I know but right now I’m-ah!-busy! I’m busy!” 

“With what--!” 

“Grimm I’m just busy! Ace left a bunch of his snacks down in the kitchen! I’ll let you take dibs on whatever you want!” 

“....no take backsies?” 

“No--oh Great Sevens--no take backsies!” 

“Fgnaa! I’ll dig in then~!” 

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 10: On The Line

Pairing: hitman!jungkook x female reader

Genre: romance, drama, angst, fluff

WC: 4k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, a gun, everyone is confused about their feelings and oblivious

Tag list; @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @teresaisla @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @scuzmunkie @jaebeomsblackgf @sugaslittlekookies @moon-asia @bangtannie7 @yoonchrisgull @njkbangtan @higashikatasgf @jksbbyfacebunny @kookiesxbananamilk @voidswan @sadxaries @bts-junseagull @jinfused @taehyungiev13 @jadethd @kimnamjoonluvbot @jungkooook @mutterseelenalleinnn @surilirani @patpus @yukiehyukie @crypticsabbat

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Previous > Next

Jungkook likes you?

The events of today won't stop going around in circles in your head. 

You clutch the giant octopus stuffie close to your chest, your legs wrapping around it. Your face is a bright red as you try to calm your breathing. 

The more you think about it, the faster your heart races. 

You need to calm down. 

Mina was mistaken. 

Yes, that's all it was. 

Mina is always trying to tell you that guys like you, but they never actually have.

She was always trying to boost your self-confidence.

That thought makes you frown. 

You don't need or want the approval of a man to boost your self-worth and confidence. 

You hug the octopus even tighter as your brows furrow in thought. 

A sigh leaves your lips as your heavy eyelids start to close slowly, sleep creeping up on you. You blink your eyes open again. For some reason, you don't want to fall asleep. 

A few minutes later, no matter how hard you try to fight it, you inevitably fall asleep, your lips set into a small frown as the worries in your mind find their way into your dreams. 

____________________

"So, why weren't you able to kill her yet?"

Tae asks in disbelief as he sits on the couch, watching Jungkook pretend to read his book. Jungkook bites his lip but ignores Tae's question as he flips the page and gets more comfortable on his bed. 

Tae glowers at his friend, "I really thought you had a good reason somewhere in that minuscule brain of yours. Apparently, you just have a death wish."

"Can you please be quiet? I'm reading."

"As fucking if you're actually reading!" Taehyung exclaims in exasperation, "Answer me. Why haven't you finished your hit yet?"

"You know why," Jungkook mumbles, his face still in his book. 

Taehyung scoffs and leans back, crossing one leg over the other, "Enlighten me."

Jungkook looks at him from over his book, "I already told you why."

"Uhm, no you didn't."

"Yes, I did!" Jungkook exclaims, "I told you I need to know why she's a target!"

"But why??" 

"I don't know!"

Taehyung looks at Jungkook like he's got two heads, making the younger squirm under his gaze. 

"So, let me get this straight," Tae coughs and points at Jungkook for emphasis, "You, an infamous hitman that has never failed a hit since he was fifteen years old, is hesitating because one stupid little bitch is confusing you-"

"She's not a stupid bitch."

Tae looks at Jungkook in surprise when he comes to the target's defense. He chuckles darkly, "You did not just interrupt me and defend your target at the same time. I know you didn't."

Jungkook swallows thickly, surprised at his own words. But, he can't back out now. So, he clears his throat and sets his book down, "Just because she's a target doesn't mean you can call her a stupid bitch."

"Look," Tae says while he rubs his temples as if Jungkook is giving him a headache by just existing, "If it was that hot Mina girl we were talking about, sure, I'd cut you some slack. But _____? Really? What about her makes you hesitate?" 

"I don't know," Jungkook chokes out. 

Tae's eyes squint as he watches Jungkook closely, "You make no sense. Your life is on the line, JK. Get the hit done...please."

Jungkook lies down, turning so that Tae can't see his face, "I'm going to get it done."

_____________________

The next morning, you're woken up by a loud knocking sound. 

You sit up and rub your eyes, blinking in confusion as you look around your room. 

The knocking sounds again and you realize it's coming from outside your room. 

"Huh?" 

You stumble out of bed, grabbing your starfish plushie and plodding your way to the front door. You open it without looking out the peephole, assuming it would be Mina. 

When you see Jungkook standing there, your heart leaps to your throat. 

The second the door opens and Jungkook sees you, he feels his heart pinch in his chest. Your hair is a mess, in your face and sticking out every which way. You're still in your pajamas if the long tattered t-shirt that goes to your knees is anything to go by. At first, your eyes were squinty as you looked him up and down, then they widen when you realize it's him. 

You let out a tiny gasp and clutch the starfish plushie you're holding to your chest.

Jungkook swallows thickly, "Uhm, hi. I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" 

You shake your head, unable to form any words. 

Jungkook's face relaxes and he lets out a little laugh, "Ok, good. I wanted to take you somewhere today if you want to?"

You stare at him for a second, Mina's words replaying in your head. 

Jungkook starts to shift his weight, wondering why you're just staring at him and not saying anything. He's just about to take back what he said and say he'll come back another day, but then you nod, "Uh, y-yes. I'd l-like that."

"Ah, cool," Jungkook sighs in relief, "Well, I'll let you get dressed. I'll be downstairs when you're ready."

You nod, willing your cheeks not to turn red as you close the door and lean your back against it for a moment. 

Once your brain catches up with the rest of you, you head to your room to get dressed. You grab a short white skirt from your closet and pull it on quickly, then you snatch a baby blue sweater and put it on. 

After pulling on a pair of white socks, you're about to run out to put on your shoes when Mina's words pass through your brain when you see the make-up on your bathroom counter. 

"Jungkook would fall head over heels for you if you did."

"Boys like it when girls try to get fancy for them."

You pout at the make-up for a second, trying to decide if you want to put it on or not. You eventually settle for grabbing the hairbrush and running it through your hair a few times before pulling it into a high ponytail and leaving the make-up where it is. 

You smile at your reflection and turn to hurry and get your shoes. 

-

Jungkook looks at a text from Taehyung as he waits for you downstairs. 

I hope you're getting it done. 

He sighs and puts the phone back in his pocket, then he looks up when he hears the sound of someone coming down the stairs.

You're running down the steps, your hair bouncing up and down and the smile on your lips lighting up your whole face. 

Jungkook swallows thickly when you stop in front of him, a small giggle leaving your mouth at the distant look on his face. 

She remembered to brush her hair today...

That's the only thought that Jungkook can process at the moment. 

Then he notices that you have small dark circles under your eyes, causing him to frown. But he covers it up a second later and gestures towards the black car in the parking lot. 

"Oh!" You exclaim when you realize he's going to drive you somewhere, "Where a-are we g-going?"

"It's a surprise," Jungkook mumbles, then he turns and heads for the car. 

You go to the passenger's side and climb in, buckling up as Jungkook starts the car. 

"I d-didn't know you h-had a car," You say with a laugh as Jungkook pulls out of the parking spot. 

He sends you a tightlipped smile, "There's a lot you don't know about me."

That makes you curious. 

You turn to him, "Ok, w-what's your favorite c-color?"

"What?" 

"Your f-favorite color."

"Uh, why?" Jungkook asks uncertainly. 

You look out the front window, "I d-don't know. I always a-ask people that."

"Is it that important?"

"It is t-to me."

"Ah, ok well...I guess my favorite color is red," Jungkook says, keeping his eyes on the road even though he has a sudden urge to turn and look at you, "What about you?"

"I l-love yellow."

Jungkook finds himself smiling softly, then he wipes the smile from his face and clears his throat, "And why is that?"

"I d-don't know. It just m-makes me happy," You say dreamily, looking out the passenger window now, your chin in your hand, "Why d-do you like r-red?"

"I'm not sure. I guess I associate the color with passion and doing the things you love," Jungkook muses as he takes a right turn. 

You turn and look at him, watching him closely for a minute before you whisper, "And? A-Are you doing w-what you love?"

Jungkook swallows and glances at you before fixing his eyes on the road again, "No, no I'm not."

You're about to ask him why, but the look on his face makes you hesitate. He looks upset, so you decide to leave it at that. 

"Ok, w-what's your f-favorite food?" You ask instead. 

That gets a laugh out of Jungkook as he gets into the left lane, turning onto the highway. 

"I feel like you're interrogating me," He chuckles. 

You laugh, a sound that makes Jungkook's chest feel warm. 

"W-Well? Do you h-have a favorite?"

Jungkook smiles and shakes his head, "You're not gonna stop until you know all about me, are you?"

You send him a toothy grin and shake your head, "N-Nope!"

Jungkook sighs, "Well, I don't have a favorite. Honestly, I like anything with flour in it. I like pizza, noodles, churros." 

You laugh and Jungkook finds himself fighting another smile, "Ok, well what about you, ___?"

You shrug, causing Jungkook to protest. 

"Nuh uh! You have to answer the questions too, missy. You can't just ask me and not have to say anything yourself!"

You laugh again, reaching a hand up to cover your mouth, "But I d-don't have a f-favorite."

"Well, do you like salty, spicy, or sweet the most?" Jungkook insists. 

"Sweet!" You shout, making his chest tight with an emotion he doesn't understand as he laughs, "Well, ok then."

A few minutes later, Jungkook pulls into a parking lot where there are a lot of cars. 

You hop out of the car and look around in confusion, "W-Where are we?" 

"The train station," Jungkook says simply, "We need to take a train to get there."

"Ohh, w-wow," You whisper in awe as you follow Jungkook inside the station, "I've n-never been on a t-train before." 

"Really?" Jungkook looks at you in surprise. 

You nod, "Mmhm." 

You continue to follow behind Jungkook as he moves through the station. 

He goes up to a little window and purchases two tickets, then he turns to you, "Our train leaves in ten minutes, we need to hurry." 

Jungkook turns and starts walking briskly through the crowds of people, making you almost have to jog to keep up with him. 

"J-Jungkook, w-wait up!" 

But it's so loud in the station that he doesn't hear you. He's almost out of your sight. 

The amount of people crowding around is making your heart beat faster as you start to hyperventilate. 

You can't see Jungkook anymore. He's gone. He's gone. He's left you all alone. 

"J-Jungkook?" You shout, getting a few judging looks from the people around you. 

You turn in a circle, now completely lost. 

You don't even know where the entrance is anymore, let alone where your train is. 

You're about to start crying when someone touches your arm. 

"Hey, sweetie. You all right?"

You turn to see a young man that looks to be about your age smiling down at you. Your heart slows down considerably to see a friendly face, even though you've never met him in your life. 

"I'm l-lost," You say with a shaky voice. 

The man nods sympathetically, "I could tell. What train are you supposed to be on?" 

"I'm n-not sure, m-my friend has th-the tickets."

"Ah, I see. And where did your friend go?" He asks kindly. 

"I d-don't know. I lost h-him."

The young man nods again, "Well, I'll help you find him. Come with me," Then he takes your arm gently and leads you through the crowd of people. 

"Oh, th-thank you," You say shyly, relieved someone has offered to help you.

"It isn't a problem at all, hun." 

When the man leads you to a train with people getting on, you look around in confusion. 

Where is Jungkook?

"Uhm," You aren't sure what to say to the man as he starts pulling you towards the open doors of the train. 

"I'm sure he's on this train," The stranger says when he sees you hesitating. 

There's something in your tummy telling you not to follow him, but he's been so kind...

You decide to look for Jungkook yourself, so you try to pull away from the man, but he holds onto your arm tighter. 

"E-Excuse me, I'm just g-going to go this w-way," You tell him with a smile as you point in a different direction.

"No, I'm sure he's on this train-"

"It's o-okay, th-thank you-"

"Look, sweetie. You need to trust me." 

"Uhm, p-please don't c-call me that," You try to pull away from him again. 

The man holds on tighter and a desperate look comes over his face, "Please, ____. Listen to me-"

"H-How do you know m-my name?" Alarm bells go off in your head as you try once more to pull away from him. 

The man lets go of your arm to grab both your shoulders and shake you a little, "He's leading you away. He's going to ki-"

"____?"

You both turn to see Jungkook heading towards you. 

You step away from the stranger just as he pulls away from you and runs in a different direction. 

Jungkook walks up to you, his brows furrowed, "____, where on earth were you? And who was that guy?" 

"I g-got lost. That man s-said he would h-help me," You say tearfully, moving so that you're next to Jungkook. 

Jungkook sighs, "You can't just trust anyone ____."

He takes your shoulders and gently turns you to look him straight in the eyes, "Promise me you won't trust anyone. No one."

Your brows furrow but you nod anyway, "Ok, I p-promise."

"Good, now we have to go, our train leaves in two minutes."

Jungkook turns to hurry to your train, but stops in his tracks when he feels a small hand grasp his. 

He turns to see you holding onto his hand, your huge eyes looking up at him. 

"What are you doing?" He asks, his voice shaking a little. 

"I'm s-scared to g-get lost again," You whisper. 

Jungkook swallows thickly, then you feel him squeeze your hand and hold it tightly as he pulls you through the station to the train that's just about to depart. 

-

You and Jungkook don't talk much during the ride, Jungkook mostly looking out the window and fiddling with his fingers, occasionally looking at his phone, only to roll his eyes and put it back in his pocket. 

You keep thinking about what that strange man said. 

"He's leading you away. He's going to ki-"

Who? Who was leading you away? 

Jungkook?

You look over at him, watching as he looks out at the trees flying past the windows. 

Then you shake your head, Jungkook wouldn't ever do anything bad to you. 

An hour later, the train stops and after the location is announced through the speakers, Jungkook stands up and forces a smile onto his face. 

"We're here."

You get up and follow him off the train, squinting in the sunlight. 

Jungkook leads you out of the station and hails a taxi. 

He says something to the driver that you don't hear, then he opens the back door for you and you climb in. 

Jungkook slides in next to you. 

"W-Where are we g-going?" You ask quietly, still feeling a bit awkward after the train ride. 

"You'll see," Jungkook says, and that's all you get. 

Fifteen minutes later, the taxi driver pulls over and Jungkook thanks him as he opens the door and climbs out. You step out of the taxi and gasp when you see the ocean sparkling in the sunlight. 

"Oh," You breathe, shutting the car door behind you. 

You follow Jungkook over to a little area where there is sand and rocks. 

Then you break into a run, making your way to the water. 

Jungkook watches as you start taking off your chunky tennis shoes and pulling off your socks. You tuck your socks into your shoes and go straight for the waves coming up on the sand. 

The second the cold water touches your toes, you squeal and jump back, laughing and turning to Jungkook. 

"It's c-cold!" You shriek in delight. 

Jungkook walks up to the edge of the waves, not making a move to remove his shoes, so you pout at him and point at his feet, "Take off y-your shoes, s-silly!"

Jungkook shakes his head, "No, thanks."

You shrug, then you turn and run into the water until it's up to your knees, then you shriek again and run back, laughing your head off. 

Jungkook purses his lips as he watches you run in and out of the water. 

Then he calls out to you when you run out of the water for the hundredth time, "You act like you've never seen water before!" 

You smile at him, "I n-never been to the o-ocean!"

After an hour has passed and you're tired of playing in the water, you walk up to Jungkook, who's sitting on a big rock. 

"Where a-are all the p-people?" You ask curiously. 

Jungkook flips his hair back with his hand and looks at you, "This is a more secluded spot. People prefer to be where there aren't many rocks and stuff."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Jungkook looks out at the water, "Are you having fun?"

A smile breaks out on your face and you nod happily, "Y-Yes! Thank y-you for taking m-me here."

"Of course." 

A moment of silence passes, then Jungkook looks over at you, "Can I show you something?"

"S-Sure."

Jungkook leads you over to a bunch of rocks that lead up to a cliff. 

He starts to climb them and you feel your stomach flip over with anxiety.

Jungkook turns to look at you when he senses that you're not behind him.

"What's wrong?" He asks. 

"I'm s-scared of h-heights," You say in embarrassment. 

Jungkook laughs, making you pout. 

He stops laughing and climbs down to stand next to you, "It really isn't that high or steep, ____. I'll help you, come on," He holds his hand out to you and you take it cautiously. 

Jungkook starts going up the rocks again, keeping your hand in his, which causes your cheeks to burst into flames. 

Jungkook himself is fighting the weird feeling in his chest when he feels your sweaty hand holding tightly to his own. 

"We're almost there."

A minute later, you've made it to the top. 

A few feet away to the right, there's a drop-off that's much higher than where you just climbed up, a straight drop down to the ocean below. 

Behind you is a bunch of grass and a pathway leading down the hill to where you just were. 

"H-Hey!" You exclaim when you realize something, "We d-didn't have t-to climb that!" You point at the path and Jungkook shrugs while chuckling. 

"Don't even say you didn't enjoy it. It was exciting!"

You roll your eyes playfully and walk over to the edge to look over, watching the waves crash around. 

"Careful," Jungkook warns, "Don't fall."

"I w-won't," You step back and walk over to sit on the ground next to where Jungkook is standing. 

You pat the ground next to you and Jungkook takes a seat. 

You two sit there for a long time, just enjoying the scenery. 

"Let's c-continue," You eventually say, making Jungkook laugh. 

"Continue what?"

You look at him seriously, "W-What is your favorite a-animal?" 

Jungkook gives you a half smile and turns to look out across the ocean. 

"Uhm, I'm not sure."

You sit there in silence for a minute, then Jungkook lays back on the grass and sighs, "Bunnies are pretty cute." 

"Th-That's my f-favorite!" You exclaim. 

Jungkook looks over at you as you lie down next to him, "Really?"

"Y-Yeah!"

"Weird."

"W-Well, now y-you have to a-ask me a q-question."

Jungkook looks at the clouds, his mind racing. 

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

You look over at him to see if he's serious, and see that he looks over at you at the same time, his face far from joking. 

"Uhm, one t-time I didn't t-take my medicine for a f-few days...I l-lied to the doctor th-that I took it."

Jungkook looks at you, his brows furrowed. 

"That's it? That's the worst thing you've ever done?"

You turn to look at the clouds and think as hard as you can, "Oh, o-one time I accidentally th-threw out a p-picture that one of m-my students d-drew for me."

Jungkook sees a little tear slip down your cheek at your words. He stares at you in disbelief. 

"And o-once I didn't listen to m-my mom wh-when she told me to take our d-dog out p-potty. He peed on th-the floor."

"Seriously?" Jungkook asks as he sits up on one elbow. 

"I know, I'm h-horrible," You say as you wipe the tears from your cheek and eyes.

Jungkook bites back a laugh, "You're not horrible."

"What a-about you? What's th-the worst thing y-you've ever done?"

Jungkook bites his lip and lays back down, "I'm an angel, I've never done wrong."

"L-Liar," You pout, crossing your arms. 

"What do you think is the worst thing I've ever done?" He asks you seriously. 

You put a finger to your chin, "Hmm, l-let me think."

A minute later, you speak up again, "I th-think you've p-peer pressured someone t-to do something. But y-you regretted it l-later."

Jungkook looks at you with wide eyes, then he swallows thickly and turns away again, "You're wrong."

Except you weren't. 

Jungkook isn't going to tell you that though. 

You can get his favorite color and food and animal out of him, but you'll never know him for who he really is. 

"Then, w-what is it?"

"Never mind, it was a stupid question. You ask one now."

"Ok...what d-do you love?"

The silence that follows is deafening. 

Then a loud ringing sounds and you both jump. 

Jungkook grabs his phone out of his pocket and sighs when he sees Taehyung's name across the screen. 

"Sorry, I have to answer this." 

"Go ah-head."

Jungkook stands up and moves to the side before answering it, "What do you want?" He growls into the phone. 

"Did you do it?"

"I fucking swear, Taehyung. If you don't shut the fuck up and let me do my job I'm going to kill you next," Jungkook whispers fiercely. 

"Whatever. Just get it done."

Before Jungkook can curse him out some more, Tae hangs up, making Jungkook growl again in annoyance. 

Then Jungkook turns to see you standing by the edge, looking out over the water. 

He swallows the lump in his throat, Tae's voice finding it's way to his mind as it whispers, Just do it, push her off...

Quick and easy.

He walks over, his hands out and ready to get this hit over with. 

He notices his hands shaking uncontrollably.

Then he decides against it and reaches into the back of his pants, pulling out a small gun. 

One shot and you're done, Jungkook. 

You're done. 

"J-Jungkook..."

He hides the gun behind his back, but you don't even turn around. You just keep looking out at the water, your arms crossed over your chest. 

"I h-hope one day, th-that you f-find what you love. I hope y-you can do wh-what you love," You turn and smile at him softly, your hair blowing in the gentle wind as you whisper, "I hope you c-can live for w-what you love."

Jungkook sucks in a breath as the image of a woman appears next to you at your words. 

"Live for me and do what you love, please. Whatever happens, Jungkook, don't let them change you..."

Jungkook's lip trembles at the woman's words, the ones he could never hear before. 

"Don't let them ruin you."

You watch Jungkook as he seems to have some kind of internal struggle, then he walks close to the edge and throws something as far as he can as a broken scream leaves his throat. 

All you see is a small black object fall into the ocean.

When you turn to Jungkook, he's on his knees, his head hanging as he breathes shakily. 

You say nothing. 

After a minute, Jungkook looks up at you, and you feel your heart break at the agony in his eyes, "____," He whispers. 

"Y-Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

_________________________________

a:n im back :)

[poormeowmeowcollector]

Black And White And Shimmering Blue Under The Sun

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: language, some whump here and there and a little bit of implied naughtiness.

Summary: Gods have wings, and you get peculiarly curious about a specific one's.

Notes: The legends are correct and the rumours are true, I'M WRITING AGAIN!!!

Read On AO3

On your first day at work on the Tower, you noticed Thor. Well, the god himself didn't impress you so much, not as much as the owl wings slapped on his back. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you asked about them, literally a week after.

"Oh, every god has them, and they're designed to match the personality of the bearer," he explains, a kind smile on his face.

"What about Loki? I haven't seen theirs," you ask. Thor's smile fades.

"He's hiding them behind magic, says they're too messy to be around all the time. But you should ask them," he answers and quickly vanishes. Of course, your brain declared Loki's wings a touchy subject, and you never mentioned it again.

The odd thing is that, even when fighting or training, Loki stubbornly refuses to show the wings or fight with them, even if Thor uses his. Still, you don't ask.

The mystery is solved during Loki's birthday. Well, the day after, to be exact. Thor had brought Asgardian mead, getting everyone drunk during the small party. You were sitting in the kitchen, enjoying your coffee, when someone walked in.

That someone being Loki, slowly making his way to the coffee machine. But, this morning, two magpie wings resting sloppily on their back. You stay silent, watching the wings to spot what's not sitting right with them.

You realize it when Loki stretches. Bones have been broken and healed wrong, deforming the wings, and there are patches of baby feathers where grown ones should be, as well as holes and bald spots. One thing is sure, it's impossible to fly with these.

Then, Loki turns around and spots you. His eyes go wide, and he hides the wings behind his back, inspecting you for a reaction.

"Are they magpie ones?" you ask, simply for confirmation. Loki blinks a few times and nods. "I think they suit you, they're pretty," you smile, trying to compliment them.

"Thanks," he nods, sitting in front of you and relaxing the wings slightly before he makes them vanish, right when Steve walks in. Neither of you talked about it again.

~~~

A few weeks later, Tony asks you to fetch something from Loki's room, who is supposed to be reading there. Instead, Loki's laying on the bed, the wings spread out in a way impossible to be painless. You knock on the door, Loki just turns their head slightly.

"I just came for the thing you borrowed from Tony last week," you explain, keeping your eyes off of the wings; or Loki's naked back. Both of these are pretty hard to do.

"Top shelf on the left," he hums and goes back to looking at the floor. You nod and make your way to the drawer, careful to avoid touching the wings in case they're sensitive. You find the tool with ease, and place it on top of the drawer.

"Are you okay? I mean, this looks painful," you comment, not hiding your concern.

"Cramps…" they murmur, not even looking up.

"Can I help?" Loki stays silent for a little, then nods a yes.

"Just rub the back around the wings, don't worry about force," he elaborates after a sigh. You nod and, once again careful to avoid the wings, make your way behind them until you have access to the base of the wings.

The moment you start massaging the area, Loki grunts a little. You're about to stop, but a purr that reminds you of "go on" changes your mind.

Just as you add pressure, the left wing flaps, making several papers fall down from the air. "Wow, they're strong" you think out loud.

Instead of accepting the compliment, Loki sighs. "They used to be stronger, they're just painful now," he answers, the sad tone in his voice is uncharacteristically easy to spot.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you guess. Another moment of silence and another sigh, before Loki finally nods.

"On Asgard, magpies are not in a good light, so Odin was not so satisfied with my wings and demanded that I hide them. I did the exact opposite," they chuckle. "And they were always strong and with impressive stamina; soon after I learned how to fly, I was doing flips and tricks in the air. It was liberating. And then he…" he shakes, holding back sobs. You stop the massage, only to hold Loki from behind.

"It's fine, you don't have to elaborate on this part," Loki nods at your whisper, tries to take a few deep breaths and then goes on.

"They weren't the same afterwards… they hurt, no matter if I rest them or not, they cannot support my weight any more and… they're just a liability. So, I hide them…" they sigh, closing the wings and turning around to face you. There's still tears in his eyes, and you can feel the heartbreak. You dare to ghost your hand above Loki's, a blanket covering your hand and giving them some privacy. He twitches a little, but relaxes to the touch.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you… you really didn't deserve this kind of pain…" you trace lines on the hand, hoping you can somehow comfort them.

"Thank you," he whispers, giving you a small smile. "I… I never had someone to talk about this before, and it helped…" they elaborate.

"Of course, any time," you smile kindly. Loki nods, and hides back the wings before dressing up and escorting you to the living room.

~~~

"You called me?" you walk into his room. Well, more like run in. The message was only an "I need your help", and the lack of input kind of worried you.

"Yes. So, I did some research and I think I found a way to make them less painful. But I can't do this part alone," they explain, their hands fidgeting with the sheets to cover up the shaking. You nod and sit down by his side, careful to avoid the wings.

"Of course, what is it?" you ask. Loki looks down and lets a long sigh.

"I want you to break them on the parts that healed wrong. I don't know if I'll be able to heal them afterwards, so, if you don't mind, I can transfer the suitable amount of spells to you, and you can heal them, this time correctly. Can you do it?" they turn to you, eyes huge. You nod, ask for a moment and walk out.

Less than five minutes later, you're back, this time equipped with a blanket, a bottle of water, a hard pillow, an even harder belt and with the kettle in the small kitchen already preparing the tea. "Alright, so… can you transfer the spells real quick?"

Loki gestures to you to sit in front of him, to which you obey. "It's supposed to glow and tickle you when working. And, you do know how to do it, right?"

"I know what shape wings should have, and I've broken badly healed limps before, but it was mostly arms and legs, so…" you squirt.

"Better than nothing…" they sigh, yanking your hand and holding it for some seconds, forcing a light into your hand. "Please make it quick" he orders. You sit behind them, watching as they bite the belt and squeeze the pillow. The first spot is easy to find, and you firmly hold the wings.

"On three. One, two, three," you quickly snap the limp upwards, and immediately bring it where it should be and heal it. Oddly enough, Loki doesn't make a sound, but quivers like a leaf. He stays just as quiet on the other snaps, but doesn't stop shaking or drumming his foot on the floor.

"It's over," you whisper and cover them with the blanket, patting their shoulder before leaving to finish up the tea. Loki hasn't moved; even the wings are just the way you left them. You take the muzzle and pillow, gently laying Loki down. You softly call his name, moving some hair away.

"I'm here, don't worry…" they mumble and sit up again, taking the cup. You sigh in relief and move away to give him space, in case he needs some. They gather the wings and tighten the blanket. "And, thank you, for the help… they already hurt less," he gives you a weak smile.

You nod, catching the "leave me alone" message and smile back before walking away and closing the door behind you.

~~~

It takes a few weeks for Loki to grow fully comfortable with the wings, as well as being able to move them without being in pain or growing the missing feathers back. But he still manages and, in a little more than just a month, he pops up in the living room with them exposed and fully healed.

You give them a proud smile as they sit by your side, and you swear Thor is about to start crying. Loki smiles and wraps one wing around you, bringing you close and striking you with the realization.

You've never touched anything softer.

Your eyes immediately go wide, and you smile at Loki like a toddler high on sugar. He softens and wraps you closer, urging you to dig in. And that's exactly what you do.

At first, Loki is staying still, and slowly relaxing as you play with the feathers. And then, they tense and twitch. You immediately stop. "Fuck, did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine, go on if you want," he does try to sound relaxed, but you can spot some fear in his voice. But the wings are too soft to resist, so you go on.

Loki twitches again, and this time you hear a snort coming out of them. As you register why, your excited smile turns into an evil grin, dripping with sadism. And so does everyone else in the team, apart from Loki, who's now showered with cold sweat.

"Guys, please… Steve? Come on, you're the reason here" Loki bargains. But Steve has already made a call.

"Team attack!" Tony declares.

Everyone leaps towards Loki and starts tickling him in every part of the wings until the god is panting on the couch and everyone is covered with glossy black and white feathers. And everyone is smiling.

~~~

It takes even more time for Loki to grow fully comfortable with the wings again, but they slowly start to train and fight with them included.

And then, one day, he texts you to go to the tower's roof. You go, mostly curious on how Loki, who once got a panic attack over standing on a chair to change a light bulb, is on the roof of a skyscraper.

They're waiting for you in the edge, smiling nervously, the wings exposed and resting on their bag.

"Do you trust me?" He asks immediately. Curious, you nod and get closer.

"Loki? What is it? Are you okay?"

"I want to do this with you, but do you trust me?" They ask again, their hands picking on each other.

"I do," you sigh, growing more and more curious. Loki smiles.

"I will use magic to secure you, but don't let go, okay?" he warns you. You nod and hold onto him as tight as possible. They wrap their hands around you as well, then secure you with a spell.

"On three," he whispers and walks towards the edge. But instead of counting, they say "three" and jump, giving you five heart attacks as you scream and hold them for dear life.

He chuckles and leaps up, hovering over the city at first. "Open your eyes, you're safe," they smile, watching you open your eyes and look at the city below you.

"That's fucking awesome!" You smile at Loki, who's slowly turning into a tomato.

"No, let me show you something fucking awesome," he smirks, and covers you with the wings, letting both of you fall down. You nearly scream your soul out before they open up the wings again and regain the lost height, laughing as you pull their clothes.

He keeps flying around, making flips and loops and whatever trick you could think of for what seemed like hours, smiling as your scared screams turn into screams of excitement. Even after you land on the roof again, you keep bouncing and squeaking.

Loki gives you a tired smile, holding your shoulder as they take you back to the common rooms. "So, I suppose you had fun," he purrs.

You give them an excited nod, and before you can think, you also give them a fleeting kiss for a “thank you”. His cheeks go immediately red, and he curls up in the elevator floor, the wings wrapped around him as he mutters incoherently with the highest pitch imaginable.

"What happened?" Tony asks when the elevator opens.

"We flew, I kissed them because I was high on adrenaline," you explain.

"You broke him, you idiot! Whatever, I'm calling Thor," he sighs and walks out. But when Thor comes to fix Loki, they may or may not already be making out with you, a few floors down for privacy.

~~~~~

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