#I’ve never seen a supporter bite someone and they didn’t bite me

[shewantsitall]

HELLO FRIENDS THIS IS YOUR REMINDER TO DO THINGS EVEN IF YOU DO THEM ALONE! DOING THEM ALONE IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN JUST NOT DOING THEM!!!

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

young ladies shouldn’t waltz with vampires

a/n: happy halloween!!! here's the fic you guys voted on and shaped a few weeks ago

polls for this fic: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

summary: “so, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…” 

warnings: vampire!bucky barnes x innocent!reader x vampire!steve rogers, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, historical au (1840s), mind control/vampire compulsion, blood, biting, age gap, ball, dancing, polyamory, threesome, first kiss, kissing, loss of virginity, somno, cockwarming, dirty talk, size kink, pain kink, pussyjob, overstimulation, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, unprotected sex

word count: 3511

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“I have to admit, out of every rose here, you’re the most breathtaking.” 

Glancing up from the table before you, cluttered with crystal glasses brimming with refreshments, your eyes flickered to the man now standing beside you, his own piercing blue stare firmly directed at you and no one else in the buzzing ballroom. 

Your stunned lips parted slightly before the gentleman boldly spoke up again, “how come I’ve never seen you before?” 

Feeling your breath hitch, you managed to babble, “oh, it’s probably because this is my first time at a proper ball. I haven’t really previously been allowed to come stay at my family’s London estate and–, I’m sorry…” you swiftly stopped yourself, sensing the heat that had ridden in your cheeks, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this…”

“Well, lucky us that you got let out of your cage and the rest of us finally get to gaze upon your beauty,” he flashed you a dazzling smile before his eyes flickered to someone behind you, “if you’ll excuse me, I see someone I recognise, but would you perhaps grant me the pleasure of a dance a little later?” 

Averting your gaze, a smile tugged at your lips as you uttered, “you’d have to ask my brother.” 

“But I’m asking you,” he dipped down to catch your vision, “would you care to dance with me?” 

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but let out the truth.

“Y-yes.” 

As a smile swiftly tilted his lips, the gentleman then bowed slightly before you as he plucked up your gloved hand and pressed his lips to the back of it before disappearing into the merry crowd. 

Feeling slightly dizzy, you finally snatched up the drink you’d originally wandered to this corner of the chamber to fetch. 

Though as you granted yourself a small sip, fingers suddenly grasped your arm and yanked you deeper into a corner. 

“Sister!” you blinked up into your brother’s eyes as he’d evidently spotted you from across the ballroom and, judging by his tone, not approved of what he’d seen, “what in the world do you think you’re doing?”

Ripping your arm free, you furrowed your brows, “what are you talking about? I was just getting some punch.”

���No,” he hissed at a hushed volume, “why were you talking to him?”

A confused scoff then bubbled out past your lips, “I’ve talked to plenty of men at this party, with and without you at my side, so why is he any different?”

“Because, sister,” he leaned down a bit further, “he’s not a man. He’s one of them,” his eyes scanned your own before he spelled it out, “a vampire.” 

Though you’d never previously encountered one yourself, you still weren’t so naive to not be aware of the known influential status such creatures of the night had in the society you lived in. Them being in attendance at a fine ball was nothing compared to the other privileges they had achieved over the centuries. 

“Really?” you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder, though didn’t spot the bloodsucker again. 

“God,” your brother groaned quietly, “I know mother and papa have kept you rather sheltered compared to myself, but trust me, you have to stay away from them. They’re monsters, killing is in their nature,” with a hand on your cheek, he guided your gaze back to his, “promise me you won’t speak to one ever again.”

Blinking back at him, you then uttered sincerely, “I promise.”

“Good,” a visible weight then faded from his shoulders as he let go of you and straightened back up to his full height. 

As you stayed on the outskirts of the party, one of your fingers curved to trace the lines of the fine glass still clutched in your grasp. 

Soon your eyes flickered up from the liquid remaining in the goblet and landed on the other guests. Elegant crinoline gowns swooshed and swayed to the music emanating from the small string quartet in the corner, acting as a heartbeat for the lords and ladies of London as they danced the night away. 

“Well, as I live and breathe,” a voice then found not only your brother’s ears, but yours as well. 

Twisting slightly, you watched as a wide grin swiftly stretched your brother’s lips, “Thomas!” he spread his arms out for the redheaded man nearly within his reach. 

As they pulled each other into a tight hug, your brother’s friend chimed in his ear, “how you doing, old chap?” before withdrawing from the embrace, though still kept one palm fast on your sibling’s shoulder. 

“Not bad, not bad–, oh, Tommy,” your brother then suddenly glanced back at you, “this is my little sister,” gesturing betwixt you both, “sister, this is Thomas, we went to boarding school together.”

Extending a hand, you smiled politely, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he shook your palm before casting his gaze back upon your chaperone, “would you mind if I stole your brother for a moment?”

“Uhm,” you glanced to your sibling before uttering, “no, of course not. Go, have fun, catch up.”

And before the pair slipped away, your brother leaned down to whisper in your ear, “be good till I get back,” to which you offered him a nod in return right before they both vanished from your sight and left you alone at the edge of the dance floor. 

Though as you slowly began to wander along the perimeter, your gaze once again affixed upon the sea of swaying pairs in the centre of the ballroom, your gentle stride then abruptly halted as a bulky figure shifted to pass you, though as the stranger attempted to, the two of you collided and the remainder of the drink in your hand splashed across his jacket.

You both froze as you slowly peeled your wide eyes up from the stain of your drink, that lightly dripped from his clothing, and instead flickered up to find the stare of the aristocrat you’d accidentally bumped into. 

“Oh god…” your heartbeat swiftly hammered in your ears, deafening out the elegant music that filled the chamber, “sir, I am so sorry, I-I wasn’t looking at where I was going and–”

“It’s alright,” he hastily put an end to your blubbering as he eyed the soaked patch, “it’ll dry,” he uttered, running a broad palm down over the wetness. Though as his gaze flickered back up to find yours, a slight smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he then said, “well, spilling your drink on me, the least you can do is offer me your name so that I know who to warn about to the people who actually are precious about their attire.”

“Lady Y/n Y/l/n,” you averted your gaze as your knees bent in a gentle curtsy, “delighted to make your acquaintance, even under the circumstances–, again, I am so incredibly sorry…”

“You’re a lady but with such lack of grace? Well, now I understand why you aren’t on the floor dancing with someone,” he jested in a teasing tone. 

The heat that had already crept up in your cheeks fiercely worsened, “I am a great dancer, I’ll have you know!”

“Oh really?” a smile dazzled his features, “I think I’ll have to see that to believe it,” he spoke as the current song came to an end and he extended a hand out to you, “shall we?”

For a moment, you let your glance flicker about the chamber in search of your brother, though when you couldn’t spot him, you found your own palm thinking for itself and gliding into the man’s standing tall before you. 

Once he’d led you out onto the floor, the palm he slid across your waist, and used to guide you a smidge closer to his own frame, caused a shy gasp to slip past your lips long before your feet began to shift below your poofy plum coloured gown. 

“Well, I guess you weren’t lying after all,” you soon heard him note after you’d danced for a minute, your movements having been nothing short of perfection since the very first step. 

Blinking up at the blonde man holding onto you tight, you finally asked, “what is your name, sir?”

“Lord Steven Rogers,” the title rolled off his tongue as his own gaze kept yours captive, “at your service, my lady.”

“Are you from here? You don’t sound it,” you commented on his accent, “but are you?”

“That’s a good question,” a slight tilt found his head, “London is one of my favourite places and I have spent many of my years here, but it’s not where I’m from, no.”

“So, you’ve travelled a lot?” you asked as he spun you an arm’s length away from himself. 

“You could say that…” he smirked as he twirled you back into his hold, “are you?”

“Am I what?” you found yourself slightly dizzy, though not from the dancing. 

“From London?”

“Well, my family does have a place here, but I haven’t spent much of my time in the city. At least not yet, I’m hoping I can begin to now that I’m grown, though to be quite frank, I have no idea where to start.”

“I could be your guide,” his offer caught you off guard, “it might have been a few years since I last called this city my home, but I still know it like the back of my hand.”

Mouth shyly agape, you simply blinked back at him a second before uttering, “perhaps if my brother came along as a chaperone.”

“I thought you said you were grown,” the tone he used to deliver his teasing seeped directly into your bones and made you thankful of his firm grip on you as the pair of you continued to sway to the music, “a girl asks for permission and can’t be trusted on her own, but a woman however, takes exactly what she desires and doesn’t let anyone or anything stand in her way…” his smouldering stare then briefly dipped before you heard him murmur, “so, what are you? A little girl or a woman?”

“I–…” you blinked back at him, struggling to navigate the exhilaratingly foreign situation you found yourself in. However, before you could stammer any further, the song came to a close and the surrounding couples parted ways. 

Though before you could take even one step back, his hand kept you close a moment longer as he dipped down for his breath to tickle the shell of your ear. 

“Meet me in the garden,” he whispered, causing even more goosebumps to erupt across your skin, “then you can give me your answer...” 

The cool night air kissed your cheeks as your glance flickered away from the candlelit terrace you’d abandoned only moments prior in order to stand beside the bushy mouth of the dark hedge maze further down the expanse of the estate’s garden. Faint music still found your ears as it echoed out the open windows of the grand manor where the ball still boomed. 

Then suddenly, as you were lost in your thoughts of disbelief at what you were doing, just before you could talk yourself into returning to the party, you felt your hand be grabbed before your eyes fluttered up to find the lord you’d been awaiting, his arrival haven been so sudden that it nearly caused you to jump straight out of your skin. 

Without a single word, Steve began to drag you into the maze, far away from any prying eyes and where the darkness could swallow you both whole.

“Where are you taking me–,” you attempted to ask, though as the man then abruptly stopped, what he did next stunned you to your very core. 

Pulling you close, closer than you’d ever been to any man before, he then pressed his lips to your own, sufficiently shutting you up before you could elaborate your question any further. 

The kiss was abrupt, fevered and entirely your first, leaving you dazed and reeling to catch up to the reality, to the dream you were finally expecting.

When Steve finally felt you relax into him, his feet began to shuffle and shift you back till your spine was pressed up against the denseness of the hedge behind you. 

But just as a shy whimper from you vibrated against his tongue and your fingers drifted up to whisper around his silky necktie, the snapping of a twig suddenly found your ears and caused you to jump away from your dance partner. 

Casting your glance over Steve’s broad shoulder, you spotted as the dark-haired gentleman, that your brother had so fiercely warmed you about, slithered out from the embrace of the shadows. 

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” the man smirked, folding his arms across his wide chest as he continued to stare. 

Eyes wide, you then began to stammer, “Steve,” lightly patting your partner’s arm as he hadn’t yet shifted to protect you with an air of understanding, “h-he’s a–” 

“A vampire?” the aristocratic creature raised an eyebrow, “how about you take another look at the lord that just had his tongue down your throat.” 

Your panicked glare then fluttered back to Steve in front of you, however, before you could manage to push him away, his hands flew up to either side of your face and he dipped down to stare into your eyes with an intense you’d never witnessed before, somehow locking you up in his gaze as he then compelled you, “don’t scream,” and under the moonlight, you swore you saw his pupils briefly dilate as his wish slithered into your soul, “stay calm.” 

Continuing to cup your cheeks, Steve then kissed you once again. Even though his previous words had turned you completely docile in his hold, the sensation of his lips as they soon pecked away from your own, on a determined journey down over your jaw, caused you to melt away that much further.

The neckline of your deep purple gown was so wide that it exposed not only your shoulders, but also crept down scandalously low on your chest. 

Your eyes fluttered shut once more as his kisses tickled in their path down your neck, the sensation shooting straight down between your thighs. However, as soon as Steve’s lips were devouring the tender spot where the base of your throat blossomed into your shoulder, a sharp pain suddenly caused your eyes to snap back open as the vampire had sunk his teeth into you. 

You winced slightly as blood began to trickle free, your gaze locked with the other man’s as he took a step forward and closed the gap. Standing directly behind Steve, his hand then raised up to stroke your hair.

“So, here’s the thing,” his ocean eyes then flickered in the same manner Steve’s had, mystically bending your mind to his will, “you’re gonna come with us, be ours to play with for the night. You can go home when the sun comes up, but without remembering the time we shared…” 

Though you’d barely gotten to sleep an hour, you began to stir as the vampire sprawled out in front of your slumbering form kissed down your neck and swiftly sank his fangs into your shoulder. 

Wincing awake and still weak from the blood the two lords had already drained you off, your hiss soon faded into a mumble, “Buck…”

Tilting his chin back a bit, Bucky lapped up the crimson that trickled down from the bite before he whispered, “shh, you can just stay asleep…” and you noticed his hardness straining against you below the covers, “it’s okay, I don’t mind…”

You couldn’t fathom how the vampire still wasn’t satiated after everything that had happened that night, things a lady such as yourself had never dared to even imagine possible. Even now, you were still slotted in between the two naked men under the canopy of a bed in the grand estate they’d taken you to, your virgin blood still staining the sheets, or the little of it that they hadn’t lapped up for themselves to savour. 

Though the restless one before you had stirred you for another taste, Steve was still sleeping like a rock. He was laying directly behind you, his burly chest still pressed up against your spine as earlier, when he’d impulsively tried to stretch out your ass, made the decision to do something about that impossible tightness and have that little hole warm his intimidating girth while he slumbered. It made it difficult, to say the least, for rest to come to you as the sensation of his fat cock plugging you up was nearly too much for you to bear. 

“Oh, what is it?” Bucky chuckled lowly at the wince you let out as he began to nudge his dick against your puffy pussy, “are you sore?” he asked in a mocking tone, grinning wider as you nodded hazily in response, “but you like it, don’t you?” he torturously tapped the weight of his length against the creamy mess between your thighs, the sensation causing both your holes to throb and clench, making Steve’s cock still embedded deep within you seem that much more enormous, “you like it when it hurts, when the sting of pain mixes with pleasure…” he then caught your eye and compelled you, “tell me that you like it.”

“I like it,” you hear the desperate word flow out your lungs, “please don’t stop, please keep hurting me, keep biting me, drink every drop of my blood, use me however you wish, it all feels so good–, ah!” the pleas he’d made you utter were then cut off by a rippling moan as his bulbous tip suddenly caught your entrance and greedily slid back into your warmth. 

The fierce rhythm Bucky swiftly found rocked you so roughly that the movements didn’t just split your poor pussy open as he bucked up into you, but it also caused your frame to shift back against Steve and sink you down that much further on his cock, letting his heavy sack nuzzle tightly against your slick skin. 

As your whimpers filled the room and mingled with Bucky’s own grunts of pleasure, you felt the girth in your ass twitch and rapidly grow painfully hard before the arm the slumbering bloodsucker had slumped around your waist tightened as he stirred with a low rumble directly in your ear. 

“Mmm… having a little midnight snack, are we?” Steve groggily hummed from behind you as he nuzzled his nose into your tousled hair, “you know she’ll pass out soon if we keep drinking like this.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Bucky then slid his palm down the length of your arm, plucking up your hand till his lips ghosted against it. However, just as you let yourself hope that he’d just plant a peck upon your palm, his teeth instead pierced the flesh, right below your thumb. Although, the vampire did show some restraint as he only offered you a little nip before ripping your hand away from his mouth and holding it out for his partner to grasp, “here, you look parched,” blood already began to pool like a little puddle in your palm from how it slowly oozes out of the wound. 

Accepting the delicacy, Steve first dragged his silky tongue over the bite, before he let his fangs sink into you with a deep groan, the taste of you only making him harder. As he began to drink from your palm, his hips greedily began to rock, making you tremble between the two lords of the night from the dizzying manner they both now fucked you. 

As your moans filled the night air, Bucky’s fingers found your face in a caress before he leaned in to snuff out your sounds and let you taste the tangy iron of yourself on his tongue. Soon, his kisses began to dance down over the column of your neck, till his face was buried in your heaving tits, leaving a blossoming trail of hickeys to mark his path as he moved down to capture your nipple between his lips.  

“I know we usually only keep our dinner till the morning comes,” Bucky muttered as he nipped at your boobs, only pausing to briefly glance over your shoulder at the man behind you, “but there’s something different about this one, don’t you agree, Steve?” 

“She’s fucking delicious…” you heard him purr in your ear, “maybe you could be more than just a quick bite to eat…” both of their cocks continued to rock in harmony, filling your holes up to more than the brim, “maybe you can be our girl…” 

Sucking in a shaky breath, you tilted your head to catch both of their eyes, “for how long?” 

Keeping his neck tilted, Bucky blinked up at you and uttered, “…forever,” before he buried his teeth into the soft peak of your tit.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[thebigbiwolf]

Spittle - Part 2/2 (Astarion/F!Reader)

Summary: The chocolate seems innocent enough - if you look past the Infernal writing on the wrapper, and with so few pleasures in the wilderness, you all but jump at the chance to sneak yourself a small treat.

Unbeknownst to you, the bar is infused with succubus spittle. Just one square is rumored to contain enough potency to send a mortal into the throes of ecstasy.

This is what happens when you eat half the bar.

Fic Tags: Sex Pollen (kinda), aphrodisiacs, a bit of dom!Astarion, unprotected piv, overstimulation, he talks you through it (iykyk),

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, No use of Y/N, magical influence

Read Part 1: Here

Read on AO3: Here

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Wow. I'll try to make this brief. First of all, I just want to say thank you all so much for your continued support. I know this took me forever to write, but I've been going through a lot of emotional turmoil with school and some health issues with my animals. Your patience means so much to me, and I can only hope this lives up to everyone's expectations! This is my first time writing smut, and ngl I feel a bit like Icarus, so let me know if y'all liked it. Last, but not least, thanks again to my bestie/beta @imaginarydromedary for holding my hand through the shame.

Astarion sits quietly beside the fire, absently picking the dirt from beneath his manicured nails. The night had unfolded like countless others before it: boring, mundane. Uneventful.

Perhaps he should retire early. The Realm According to Bumpo sits patiently atop the desk in his tent, and if he heads to bed now, he could potentially finish a chapter before his watch begins.

He stands, patting the dust off his trousers, just as Shadowheart emerges from your tent. He initially doesn’t pay her any mind - fails to notice the concern etched across her face. 

“Astarion.” 

He snaps to attention, recognizing the fear in her voice.

Astarion’s stomach sinks when their eyes meet. Shadowheart isn’t normally one to succumb to panic, but she looks as though she’s just stumbled out of a wolf’s den.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. She - I’ve never seen…” Shadowheart pauses, taking a steadying breath. “She’s feverish. She was fine only hours ago. I heard a cry from her tent and feared something was amiss. When I found her, she…” The cleric hesitates, eyes contemplative - as if weighing exactly how much she wants to reveal. 

“Out with it, damn it!”

“Is there any chance she’s been poisoned? You two stayed behind, back in the village. Did she come into contact with anything that might have pierced her skin?”

“Poisoned? No, she -” Astarion retraces the events, turning over your brief conversations in his head before landing on the only noteworthy detail he can think of.

He taps a finger on his chin, a thoughtful smile creasing his face. “Unless, of course, the Infernal chocolates didn’t agree with her.”

“I’m sorry, the what?” 

“The chocolate she found at the apothecary. I assumed she hid it away so she could enjoy her little treat, unbothered. There was Infernal text on the wrapper.”

She stares at him with wide eyes, jaw slack with disbelief. “And you didn’t think to mention this earlier?”

Astarion shrugs, unfazed.

“Where’s Wyll?”

He rolls his eyes. “How should I know? I’m not his keeper.”

“Astarion!” 

“Oh, come on. That chocolate must have been at least a decade old. Are you certain this isn’t just some sort of stomach bug?”

The cleric shoves past him, groaning in exasperation. She shoots him a glare and mutters, “I’m certain,” before jogging in the direction of Wyll’s tent. 

“Infused with succubus spittle. Just one bite will have you and that special someone rolling around for hours. Consume responsibly." 

Astarion giggles boyishly. “An aphrodisiac? How fun.”

Wyll squints as he silently reads the next bit to himself, fingers tracing the text. He turns to Shadowheart, jaw tightening, "How much of this did you say she ingested?"

"I only found half the bar."

Wyll’s expression grows more serious. "This says the recommended serving size is one square… How many squares were left?"

“Oh, gods…” she breathes, "Six."

The three exchange silent, worried glances.

“Could she die from this?” Shadowheart asks, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Wyll’s lips press into a thin line. In truth, he doesn’t know the answer. He could ask Mizora for guidance, but the devil’s been awfully silent after his recent failures. He isn’t sure she'd be willing to answer him, let alone grant any favors. Still, it may be worth a call.

Just as Wyll’s about to suggest it, Astarion heaves a deep, dramatic sigh, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, I know what we’re all thinking. I’ll take care of this.”

The other two regard each other, thoroughly confused.

“Look," Astarion explains, I may not be well-versed in magic, or magical remedies, for that matter, but now that we know what’s causing this… I think it’s obvious what needs to be done.”

“You’re joking.” Shadowheart laughs, incredulously.  

“No,” he continues, “We can’t just sit here and hope for the best. We need to act quickly, and let's just say, this fits into my... skill set.”

“So, you’re going to, what? Have sex with her? You think she’ll be capable of saying anything but yes, given the state she’s in?”

Astarion shoots her a glare. The mere thought that he’d ever so much as suggest doing something like that - bedding you when you’re too weak to reject him - the very idea of it makes him sick. 

He isn’t that evil. 

“Watch your tongue,” he spits at her, “before I do us all the favor of removing it.”

“Hang on, you two,” Wyll interjects, “Astarion, I think you might have a point. You would know better than anyone whether she’s in a right enough state of mind to… consent to this. You’re closest to her. She trusts you.” 

He turns to Shadowheart, “It’s worth a try.”

Astarion notices two things as he pulls back the flap of your tent.

The first is that it is unseasonably warm. Scorching hot, like summer. A stark contrast from the welcoming cool of the early spring night behind him. 

And second, that the air in the tent is heavy - heady with the scent of sweat and something else he can’t quite identify. It's clouding his senses, making his head swim. The taste of it settles on his tongue, like salt on the rim of an otherwise very sweet drink.

The moonlight at his back casts a dark shadow over your sleeping form. Astarion hesitates for a moment, taking in the sight of you, vulnerable and oblivious to his presence, feeling too much like a wolf looming over a snared rabbit.

You twitch, grimacing in pain. 

He frowns. This wasn’t the way he wanted to go about seducing you. His plan was much more sophisticated: a carafe of wine, a few honeyed words leading to a night of passion, your endless thanks, all culminating in some well-earned release and his assured protection.

A mutual exchange.

But, this?

He’s roused from his thoughts by another grunt, escaping from between your clenched teeth.

Whatever you’re going through, it looks like hell.

Ugh. You know what? Fine. Maybe this isn’t the way he envisioned it, but when has life ever blessed him with a perfect scenario? He’ll offer his… services, and respect whatever answer you give him. If you refuse him now, he can always try again later. Under less perilous circumstances, provided you survive the night.

And if not, well, he's never been one to play the hero, but at least he tried. 

He steps further inside, closing the entrance behind him. The moment he seals the tent shut, there is a palpable shift. The space feels infinitely heavier, laden with unnatural energy, reminiscent of anticipation, but just slightly… off.

He breathes, trying to focus on anything but that intoxicating scent. The haze of it is maddening.

The elf sits on his knees beside you, hands resting in his lap. 

He clears his throat, hoping the sound would be enough to wake you.

There’s no response. 

He whispers your name.

Nothing.

No choice, then.

He drums a finger against your bare arm.

The cleric was right. Your skin is so hot, it borders on scalding.

Finally, you begin to stir.

-

Again. It happened again. 

As soon as you closed your eyes to rest, you saw him - That thing that wore his skin. You felt his hands and mouth as he ravaged you until you fell apart beneath him, above him, wrapped around him, like he was everywhere all at once. 

He was demanding as he took pleasure from you. Ravenous. Mocking your cries, your begging.

The hours stretched into what felt like lifetimes, and you’d nearly given up hope, resigning yourself to the idea that this was your new, endless reality. 

Until suddenly, you hear a voice that pulls you from the dark recesses of your subconscious-- the very voice being used to torture you

Your name, uttered quietly by Astarion. Just Astarion. No second, more sinister layer beneath it.

Your eyelids flutter, then widen as a chilling realization washes over you. 

He’s touching you. The pads of his fingers are both a balm and an irritant, soothing and igniting the flames licking at the corners of your mind.

“You look like you’ve seen better days.” He teases. 

You recoil from his touch, sitting upwards and crawling back away from him. 

He can’t be here. He, of all people, can’t be here.

And yet, something within you is screeching in delight.

'That’s him, isn’t it? The object of your desires? How fun!’

You swallow. Hard. 

“Astarion, I -” 

He holds up a hand, silencing you. “I’m aware.”

“Shadowheart informed us of your… predicament,” he continues, “I can’t help but feel partly responsible, seeing as I was there when you found the chocolate -”

“The chocolate? Is that - wait, what?” 

Shit. Your head is pounding. 

You press your palms against your eyes and groan. 

“I’ll spare you the details, but that chocolate was laced with succubus spittle - a highly potent aphrodisiac - and you, my dear, have consumed enough to bring an entire brothel to its knees.”

Your eyes snap open, meeting his own. There isn’t an ounce of humor in his tone. No sign of his usual mischief.

Gods, he’s being fucking serious.

“Now, as amusing as this might be if it were anyone else, I’d prefer it if our party’s leader made it out of this alive, and that leaves us with a choice."

You gaze at him silently, waiting as the candlelight paints his sharp features in warm hues of amber and honey. 

'He’s quite handsome. I see why you like him.’

“You can ride this out alone,” Astarion explains, “Shadowheart will return with her best salves and more potions for the fever. We’ll hope this passes quickly, but Wyll’s translation suggests the amount you consumed could leave you in this state for up to a week.”

Your stomach churns. You’re going to be sick.

“And the alternative?” you manage to ask.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining with your own. Your skin prickles at the contact.

“The alternative is that you let me help you through this. Consider it a repayment, of sorts, for gifting me your blood. I’m somewhat of an expert on… well,” he lets out a humorless laugh, “let’s just say, I’m the best chance you’ve got.”

Maybe it's the blood roaring in your ears, or maybe you’re still dreaming, but it sounds like Astarion is offering to… fuck you?

“I’m sorry, what?”

He groans, visibly frustrated. “Sex, my dear. If the magic is compelling you to have it, I think we should listen.”

‘Handsome and smart.’ 

You hiss, “Would you please shut up?”

Astarion squints. “What was that?”

“Nothing, sorry.” You clear your throat. “Listen, I - I get what you’re trying to do. I appreciate it, really, but -” 

Pain lances through your abdomen, a sharp, icy shard that interrupts your words. You clutch at your side, releasing Astarion’s hand before falling helplessly on your back, twisting in agony.

He inches closer, voice tinged with urgency. “We’re running out of time. If you want my help, it's best to ask now, because as much as I love the idea of you begging for me to bed you, I won’t be comfortable doing this unless you agree to this while you’ve still got your wits about you.” 

Tears sting the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision at the edges. He’s right. You don’t think you can endure this alone, and as much as you fucking hate to admit it, the damned succubus magic - that thing - is right.  

You do desire him. You’ve wanted him since the moment you met beside the nautiloid. Now here he is, offering to alleviate your suffering.  

There’s just one part of his offer that you can’t quite come to terms with.

“I didn’t let you drink from me because I was hoping you’d repay me.” Your voice warbles, wet and stressed, “I can’t have sex with you if it’ll just be part of some ridiculous transaction. Not with anyone, and certainly not with you.” 

His expression softens as your words sink in. It’s a confession, of sorts. The kind he’s wholly unfamiliar with. It stuns him almost to the point of speechlessness.  

“My apologies. Believe me, it was more of an excuse than anything. I didn’t mean to suggest…” He lets his words trail off, shaking his head. You two can revisit this conversation later, when time isn’t of the essence. “It doesn’t matter. I want to do this. Let me help you.” 

The sincerity in his voice sends a shiver up your spine.

It’s clear he means this.

He means every word. 

You nod. “Okay.”

Astarion clears his throat, rolling the tension off his shoulders. 

“Good. Now that we’ve got that taken care of,” he says as he throws one of his legs over your waist, straddling you, “Why don’t you lie back and let me take care of this, hm?” 

His posture is relaxed. Confident. He regards you with hooded eyes and the faintest hint of a smirk. It’s quite the sight, one you’d enjoy significantly more if your body wasn’t busy screaming for his attention. 

His deft hands make quick work of the laces of your shirt, and with every string that loosens, your composure unravels further. You squirm, unable to resist the heat that teases your skin and the growing itch beneath it. 

As if Astarion can sense your rising panic, he places a cool palm against your burning cheek, his touch both gentle and practiced as he rubs smooth circles at the dip of your temple. 

“Relax, dear,” he whispers, both a request and a command. The gentle lilt in his voice masks the underlying authority, but your body obeys all the same, tension releasing from your muscles. “I’ve got you.”

Astarion quickly rids you of the offending fabric, chest and stomach now bared to him. His eyes scan over your form with focused intensity, lips pinched between his teeth, like an artist deciding what to make of their blank canvas.

“Normally, I’d take my time with this,” he admits, “but given the circumstances…” He swiftly undoes the buttons of your trousers before yanking them off along with your smallclothes. One single, fluid motion. 

He can’t hide the mild shock that follows when he sees the state of you - dripping wet, red and pulsing with need. 

He dips the tip of his finger between your folds. It glides over velvet skin, coating the digit in warm, wet slick. A strangled, pitiful noise escapes from your throat.

For a moment, Astarion’s calculated expression falters, surprised by the rate at which your body opens itself up to him. A glint of hunger lurks beneath the surface.

“This may be easier than I thought.” He says with a smirk, more to himself than to you. 

He presses two digits in, slow and intentional. There’s no resistance; A knife through warm butter. You’re dripping down his knuckles, gripping around him like a vice. He slides all the way in until the heel of his palm meets your clit. 

“Breathe.” 

Not even realizing you’d been holding your breath, you release it with a shutter.

“Very good.” He punctuates his words with the slow drag of his fingers. Long, languid movements. He’s taking his sweet time with you, pulling scandalous little cries from your lips. It’s like he’s toying with you - seeing how long you can hold out before breaking. 

It doesn’t take much time at all.

“Astarion -”

“Yes?”

“Please.”

“Please, what? What do you need, darling?” His eyes are fixed on your own, grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. A cat playing with a cornered mouse.

“More. Anything.” 

He hums in approval, then wets the pad of his thumb on his tongue before drawing circles exactly where you need. Heat coils at the base of your spine, forming a ball of tension that threatens to snap. 

The sheer intensity of it is enough to scare you, caught between the urge to chase the sensation or flee from it. “Astarion, I -” 

He ignores your warning as if he hadn’t heard it, plunging his fingers into your heat and curling them - expertly caressing a spot that threatens to shatter you. Your hands fly out, gripping the fabric of his shirt, the sheets beneath you, anything in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

“Go on, love. Let it out. I’ve got you.” 

Your body seizes as your orgasm tears through you, igniting every one of your oversensitive nerves. Back arching off the bedroll, several strangled sounds - almost pained - rip from your throat. The pleasure threatens to tear you apart, but the thick fog of lust occupying your mind begins to subside, offering the slightest bit of clarity as you twitch beneath him. 

Astarion grabs you by the jaw, tilting your head this way and that, admiring his handiwork. He's quite pleased with himself, with the mess he's made of you - jaw slack and brows pinched. He coaxes out the aftershocks, watching you squeeze around his fingers.

"There,” he gives you a playful pat on the cheek, "You're looking better already." 

"You're - agh - enjoying this too much."

"I never said I wasn't going to enjoy it." 

A beat of silence passes between the two of you as he allows you to catch your breath. For a moment, you think the coast is clear - that maybe, this was as far as things had to go. This was what the magic was compelling you to do, or at the very least - it was close enough. You fulfilled its wishes. Surely.

But then he pulls out of you, and the second you feel the vacuum of emptiness where his fingers once were, that voice in your head is screeching like some sort of petulant child. It pouts, waggling its non-existent finger in your direction. The demanding bitch. 

Part of you, instinctually, realizes that this is just the beginning - that you’re simply at the edge of the shore watching the tides recede while a devastating wave builds somewhere in the distance. 

“What is it? Does it still hurt?” Astarion asks, breaking the silence, and you realize that no, it doesn’t. Not like before, at least. 

You shake your head.

“Good. I’d wager that means this is working.” He smiles triumphantly, working the laces of his own clothes, and ridding himself of the final layers between you, revealing an intricate network of muscle beneath. For a man who’d supposedly been starved for the last two centuries, he certainly doesn’t look the part.

Astarion nudges your legs apart with his thigh, then settles between your knees, dragging the head of his cock between your folds. He hums in approval, admiring the sight as he coats himself in your slick. It practically drools out of you.

There’s no resistance when he dips himself into your entrance. 

His eyes scan over your face, searching for any discomfort, but all he finds is need. 

So, he presses in further. 

“Shit, you -” 

He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath as he bottoms out, then takes a moment, eyes pinched shut, collecting himself. 

He slides out, just an inch or so, before plunging back in, buried as deeply as he can reach. It’s so damn easy, the sinfully wet mess you’ve left all over his cock allowing him to glide in and out, tilting his hips with each thrust.

The stretch of him is perfect, like you were made for this - made to take him. His length rubbing and dragging against your walls acts like a balm, relaxing your body as you swallow and grip him in scorching heat. 

He grabs one of your thighs, pressing it into your chest - the new angle allowing him to sink even deeper into your core.

It isn’t long before you’re begging him for more, digging your heels into the curve of his back.

Astarion starts pounding into you - a new, brutal pace spurred on by your encouragement and the wet, filthy slap of his skin against yours. The sounds reverberate off the canvas of your tent, blending with your choked sobs. You just know your companions are going to have something to say about this in the morning, but you honestly can’t bring yourself to care. 

The only thing that matters now is the man above you - his nails digging into the flesh of your ass, whispering how good you feel. How well you’re taking him, “Like you were made for this - for me.” His grunts are like music to your ears, drowning out all other thoughts as his chest vibrates against your own.

It’s all too much. 

Your orgasm sneaks up on you before you have a chance to warn him, but he feels the way you flutter around his cock and acts on instinct - snaking his fingers between your bodies and rubbing your clit in quick circles. 

You throw your head back with a cry, shaking beneath him, and grip him like a vice as you come. The force of it slams into you, hot and devastating, tightening every muscle within its wake. You wind your limbs tightly around the hard planes of Astarion’s body as he rolls his hips into you, slow and deep. 

You can feel him twitching inside you, his rhythm suddenly stuttering with each thrust. Something tells you he’d come now, if you’d allow him.

But where?

'Where else?'

The very idea of him not spilling every drop he has inside of you disturbs you nearly to the point of panic, and with that, you finally understand what this damned succubus has been demanding of you this entire time.

“Astarion, please. I need you.” 

“Where?” he asks, voice muffled, panting hot and open-mouthed against the swell of your shoulder.

“Inside,” you beg, “Please. Please -  It’s alright.” 

He shudders, surging up into you one last time with a strangled grunt. Holding onto your hips, he pulses within you, the warmth of his release filling you to the brim, until a thick white ring of come forms at the base of his length. You can’t help but clench around him, moving to match his previous pace and trying desperately to wring as much out of him as you can, until it begins to seep out onto the sheets beneath you.

It isn’t until he stills inside of you that you release your hold on him. The two of you take a minute to collect yourselves, waiting for your heart to settle and listening to Astarion’s ragged breaths. 

He lifts his weight off of you with a grunt, settling back on his knees. 

“That was - agh,” he shivers as he pulls out of you. You don’t even want to look at the mess.

“I’m going to have to burn these sheets, aren’t I?” you ask, sitting up on your shoulders.

He throws his head back with a genuine, hearty laugh, and cards his fingers through his dampened hair. 

This is the most relaxed you think you’ve ever seen him - not a scowl line in sight. He rolls his shoulders, and sighs at the subsequent pop before turning his focus back on you.

“I’ll have you know,” Astarion muses, “I’ve done this more times than I can count— but this, my dear,” he chuckles, “This was one for the books.”

“So, was sleeping with me everything you could have possibly imagined?” It’s an obvious joke, given your tone. An offer to squash any chance of this happening again, should he wish to. An exit. 

He hums playfully. “Well, next time I think I’d prefer the subtle influence of wine over a mind-altering aphrodisiac, if it's all the same to you.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

Did he just offer to do this again? Well, not exactly, but -

“And how are you feeling?” Astarion asks. 

Better, is the honest answer. Slightly confused and deeply embarrassed, but better. 

The apologies you’ll have to make after the night’s over seem endless, both to him and to Shadowheart for all the trouble you caused. Not to mention the others, who’ve probably had the sound of your squealing burned into their memories forever. The idea of it is daunting.

“Because if you’re still reeling from any nasty, lingering effects,” he continues, “I’m sure I could be… persuaded to help again.”

Oh.

Hm.

“Well, now that you mention it…”

-

Tag List (sorry if I missed anyone! I only added you if you explicitly asked to be tagged): @daedriclys @captain039 @sushiumex @sugasweettea @marauders-moon @starlightelegy @ablxssm @the-lake-is-calling

[gucciwins]

something new

wembley brings love and celebration 

Word count: 5190

A/N: posting something for the first time in months (since april) and I am very excited for you to read.  please let me know what you think. I enjoyed writing and promise I'm already working on the next thing 💜 asks

_____

Wembley Stadium.

It’s a place you had heard many stories about and even attended a show in 2019 as a gift for your father to watch his favorite band, Fleetwood Mac. This entire week has been remarkable, but tonight is the final night. You are here supporting your boyfriend, Harry, and because it’s the last night, there will be a celebration after with the attendance of everyone who knows Harry from family, friends, and workers.

When you first met Harry, you didn’t know he was Harry Styles. Many people would ask how you could not recognize the Harry Styles, but when you met him, he had a full beard and hair full of messy curls. He was dressed in mini running shorts wearing a black jumper and bright running shoes. The reason you spoke to him was his shoes. This brand is known for its style of color combination and lightness in weight, making it the running shoe. You had been debating buying a pair, and his looked well-loved. It wouldn’t hurt to hear an opinion from someone who wasn’t an online user.

“Excuse me,” you called out softly behind him.

He jumps and moves away from the counter. “Sorry, was I in your way?”

You do your best not to melt hearing his deep voice; it was comforting for some odd reason. You smile and shake your head. “No, uh, actually. I’m sorry to bother you. This is actually such a silly question now.” You pause, debating walking away while you can, but he encourages you to continue. “It’s about your shoes. Are the Hoka’s worth it? The online reviews have not been able to convince me, and I’ve read too many articles at this point. Yours look like they’ve seen a few miles,” you point out.

Harry looks down at his shoes and laughs, “so they do.” He meets your eye, stepping closer and away from the counter. “I’m on my fourth pair,” he confesses sheepishly.

You wince, knowing the price for these shoes is not cheap. “Are you constantly running? Are they easily worn out?”

His face reddens, and he fiddles with his necklace. “No, uh…I like having more options to match my outfits.”

You laugh, “that makes sense.” You pause. “Does that mean picking my first pair will be harder? I saved for one pair, and my pocket will hurt if I decide to bite the bullet.”

“I debated a few choices at my computer and ultimately bought two pairs. They were orange and yellow. Bondi are a good first choice.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You notice the barista, Lily sliding a coffee on the counter and gesturing it’s his, meaning it’s time for you to go. “Sorry for bothering you, but this was very helpful. Sorry, I never got your name. I’m Y/N.”

“Harry. It was no bother.”

You doubt that.

“Bye, Harry.” You collect your bag and walk out, knowing you were going to overthink buying these shoes, and Harry would never leave your mind.

To no surprise, you’re back at your favorite coffee shop the following day, but this time dressed in your favorite jeans and a cardigan your grandma helped you knit over the summer last year. It’s pastel pink with flowers placed randomly all over. You didn’t dress cute for a guy. You dressed cute for yourself. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Lily is a good friend, and after walking your iced latte to your table, she sat down for a moment.

“Nice conversation yesterday?” She ponders.

“Mhm…nice fellow.”

“Was surprised you bothered him?”

You look at her, confused. “Was it rude of me?”

“Some would say so.”

“I’m confused. We talked about shoes. What did I do wrong?”

Lily stares at you, trying to see if you’re joking. “Y/N, be serious.”

“I am.”

She looks around, leaning closer. “You spoke to Harry Styles. Popstar sensation. Most loved man on the earth.” Lily sees you processing her words, and before you can make rebuttals, she pulls her phone out and shows you a photo of Harry, the guy you met, under a Harry Styles update page.

“Well, shit!”

“Yeah, he at least looks interested in your conversation.”

You roll your eyes, “geeze, Lily, thanks for making it seem like it’s awful to talk with me.”

“Not what I meant,” she apologizes.

“It’s fine. The beard threw me off.”

“He’s a regular here. Comes every other day.” Lily excuses herself needing to get back to work, and with that reassurance, he wouldn’t be coming in; you enjoy your coffee.

You took out your laptop and began to work while keeping an eye on the door. Pretty soon, you got deep into your research and didn’t even notice when the door chimed, signaling someone knew had entered.

“You look really focused. Are you working?” Harry had walked up to your table, startling you.

The truth was you were not working, although you should have been; it was a Wednesday morning. You feel your cheeks warm up, knowing you’ve been caught. “Won’t lie to you, Harry. I’m looking at shoes.” You turn your screen to let him see you have a page pulled up for running shoes with multiple open tabs.

Harry laughs in surprise and gestures to the empty seat to join you. You move your bag, and he happily slides in. You move your laptop closer to him, giving him a better view.

“Those are cute.” You had been looking at a lilac pair.

“Right! But look at these.”

Harry frowns when you switch the screen to display a cherry-pink design. “Now, that’s a tough choice.”

“Ugh…I know. I’ve been alternating back and forth.”

“Okay, close your eyes,” he orders.

You look at him skeptically but do as he says.

“It’s a sunny day which is just a miracle here in London,” you laugh, and he continues. “You’re out on a walk deciding where to go for the day when a stranger points out your shoe is untied. You bend down to tie it. Now what color are your shoes?”

“Purple,” you answer without thinking.

“Well, there you go.”

“That was helpful, Harry. Thank you. Are you a therapist or something?”

“In another life, I would be.”

“Well, what do you do now?” You ask, genuinely interested.

Harry looks at you, confused as if you’re really asking the question. “I sing for a living. Uh…” he feels embarrassed sharing this for some reason. “I go on stage and perform.”

You frown, looking at him closer. “From my eye level, you look like a rugged Harry Styles.”

Harry looks amused. “Rugged. Huh, I thought the beard was good.”

“It is,” you quickly agree. “Sorry, I’m used to seeing videos of him—well, you clean-shaven.”

“I’m on a break. It’s a nice way to let go.”

Right.

You were at a crossroads now because you liked Harry. He was friendly and easy to speak with, but would this new information change everything for you?

“Maybe we can go on a run when your shoes arrive?” Harry suggested.

Your eyes lit up, “really?”

“Mhmm…I like running around the park.”

“Oh, I love finding new trails,” you gushed. “I bet you have found the best-hidden roads.”

Harry shrugs, “we’ll have to see.”

“Uh… I’m sorry for not recognizing you. I don’t know if that was weird or not.” You decide to apologize.

“You’re fine, Y/N. When you came up to me, I thought you wanted a photo, but clearly, my shoes were more interesting,” he teased. “It was nice being just Harry.”

You smile sheepishly at him, “you’re still Harry to me. Feel like you’ll turn into Harry Styles when you’re clean-shaven on stage.”

“Not for a few weeks, then. I have shows in Los Angeles at the end of January,” he tells you because he wants to bask in being just Harry for a few weeks more.

“Oh, fun,” you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

“Mhmm…” Harry waits for you to ask more, but instead, you turn the conversation to his workout routine.

From then on, conversation flows easily. You tell Harry you’re the oldest of three. Two younger brothers who live to embarrass you whenever they get the chance but love when you drive them around. You tell him about your job in publishing and that you worked your way up to being an editor. It’s a job you love dearly. Harry lets you ramble on, asking questions and wanting to learn more. He learns you’re allergic to mushrooms. Your first tattoo was a cherry you got at eighteen on an impulsive night out. That you’re the only family member in generations to be born left-handed.

Harry shares that he loves to travel because it gives him a place to miss and come home. He loves his sister and calls her his best friend. That he’s too competitive and loves a long game of Scrabble. He dreams of having a pet dog but does not want to commit when his life is on the road. You mention your family dog, Woodstock, named after the iconic yellow bird from the Peanuts comics. A yellow Labrador who runs up to strangers, always asking for belly rubs. You promise to take him to visit.

Your friendship with Harry grew from there. You would meet most mornings outside the coffee shop for a run and then for a coffee that turned into hours of conversation. You liked Harry and reckoned you liked him more than a friend, but there was no way you would change that dynamic and instead settle to be his friend. When Harry showed up one day clean-shaven, you were taken aback because it made him look younger, and it was as if you were seeing him for the first time.

“Don’t recognize me anymore,” he teases.

“I could spot those green eyes in a sea of people,” you promise him.

Come April, a shift in your dynamic happened. Harry wanted you to work out with him and his trainer. You thought he was crazy, but really Harry was dying for you to meet his friends. They couldn’t stop teasing him that you were made up.

“Harry!”

You both turned and found a man in a white shirt and shorts, similar to Harry, approaching you. Harry welcomed him in a hug before going to stand next to you. “This is Y/N. Y/N, Brad.”

Brad shot you a smile, “pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well.”

“It’s nice to put a face to a name. He can’t shut up about you,” Brad confesses.

“Oi! Stop that.” Harry frowns, but you can tell he doesn’t mind.

You end up having the worst workout of your life. Brad, not taking a moment of pity for you until he finally called it quits an hour later. You threw yourself on the grass, closed your eyes, and took slow breaths. You heard Harry laughing above you but did not acknowledge him.

“Come on, petal. I’ll buy you a coffee,” Harry offered.

You peeked one eye open, “and a scone?”

“I’ll get you all the goods you want,” Brad chimes in. “You were a trooper out there.”

“Fuck, I never want to work out with you again,” you huff.

“Don’t think we will if he has a say,” Brad points to Harry. “Never seen him so angry.”

“She’s my friend. Didn’t want to explain her death to her parents.”

After that, it seemed you only saw more of each other until one night at your home, Harry made a move you didn’t see coming. After the film finished, Harry turned serious.

“Y/N?”

“Harry, what is it?” You ask, concerned.

“I like you.”

You sigh in relief, “gosh, you scared me. I like you too, silly. You’re my best friend.”

Harry shakes his head. “You’re not listening to me.”

“Heard you loud and clear.”

He sighs, frustrated. “These last few months as your friend have been amazing. I feel so lucky you approached me to talk about shoes. While I enjoy being your friend every time we get together, these feelings I have continue to grow, and I can no longer keep them to myself. I like you, and I want to see where this goes.”

You sit there shocked because you never expected Harry to reciprocate your feelings, but he is pouring his heart out for you. “Harry,” you breathed out. “I-I-I like you too. I have for some time, but I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Me either, but Brad said a person as amazing as you would not wait around for me.”

You laugh, “tell him I’m a fool because I think I would have waited a lifetime for you.”

“I know it’s too soon to ask you to be my girlfriend seeing as we haven’t been on a date, but—”

You interrupt him. “Why can’t we say this is our first date? If we think about it, every time we have spent together could be considered a date.”

“Do you end a first date with a kiss?” He asks sheepishly.

“Only if it’s you,” you promise him.

When your wine-stained lips meet his, you feel a wave of peace surround you knowing that it might be soon, but the universe sent Harry to you. He was your other half. He made you better. You pulled him closer, loving the closeness this kiss brought you. Harry sighed, ending the kiss. You went in for a second kiss needing more of him for a little longer.

“Petal, baby. I’m here,” he spoke against your lips.

You giggled out of breath. “Sorry, I think I like you a little too much.”

Harry leaned his forehead against you. “I feel the same.”

“Good, let’s kiss some more and then have a sleepover.”

“Don’t you think it’s too soon, petal?” Harry asked.

You frowned, “you slept here two nights ago.”

Harry sighed, “you’re right.”

It wasn’t until a week later you made it official. Life was perfect, and you were happy. Harry knew starting a relationship as he began touring wasn’t the smartest option, but he was close to home and promised to check in at every chance. In each city he visited, he picked up a souvenir for you as a reminder he was thinking of you. It was cheesy, but he wrote you postcards from each city because even though they wouldn’t arrive quickly, they would remind you of him when you did receive them. It only made you like him more and knew you were falling in love quickly. There was no stopping it.

While you joined him at his special show at Slane Castle, you didn’t have the chance to meet many of his family, mainly only the band. They welcomed you with open arms, and how Harry never stops talking about you. It made you nervous. You hoped to live up to his words because these people and his band members meant the world to Harry.

____

Now being here to celebrate four sold-out nights at Wembley, it felt overwhelming knowing Harry’s entire family and friends from his childhood would be here. You’ve known Harry for months but loved him like he’s always been yours. It was a joyous day, but even that wouldn’t take away your nerves for the final night of seeing Harry shine on stage.

“No one is going to believe I didn’t recognize you when we first met,”  you tell him as the driver drove down a road that arrives at the back of Wembley, away from the crowd.

“Course they will.”

You give him a deadpan look, “you’re basically the face of the UK. A prince, some would say.” You sit up and clear your throat. “Oh, how’d we meet. Well, I met him at a coffee shop and asked him about his shoes.” You rolled your eyes, “sounds fake to me.”

“Good thing it’s the truth. Plus, I thought you were cute. Would have never worked up the courage to walk up to you, though.”

“Stop. You’re only saying that.”

“Nope, I mean it. Brad and the band like you.”

“I hope they do,” you muttered. “Only people I’ve met now. I’m meeting everyone.”

“You met Mum and Gem,” Harry reminds you. “Spent time with them for three nights.”

You sigh because, for a moment, you feel Harry doesn’t understand how overwhelming this is. Everyone here knows Harry. They know Harry from Holmes Chapel, and they know the amazing person he is. You feel happy to know and love him, but they’ve got a lifetime of Harry, and you’ve got months. It differs for everyone because you would move mountains to ensure he was happy. Except, everyone doesn’t know that. They don’t know you.

“Y/N, petal will you look at me,” he begs softly.

You take a deep breath and allow yourself to meet his emerald eyes. Harry takes in the worry shining bright, and smiles. “Petal, I love you. I know you love me. You remind me every moment we’re together and when I’m away. I don’t doubt it. My family knows you, maybe not your physical form, but they have heard stories and seen endless pictures. They will love you because I love you. If you get overwhelmed, you can always sit back and watch, they’ll understand. Most importantly, I will understand. I wish I could hold you as Mum introduces you to everyone. I told her to hold off, but she’s excited. Brad will be on the floor, and I know you enjoy that. You’re in safe hands.”

“I love you. Thank you. I know it’s your day, and I’m making it all about me.”

Harry shushes you, “hey, hey. We’re a team. Your feelings are just as important as mine. Now give me a kiss.”

You loved him, simple as that. He was the missing piece in your life.

___

The show was like no other. Harry, from the moment he got on stage, radiated happiness. The fans were the loudest they had been all week, filling you with so much joy. Anne told you to join her at the family box, but you decided to be on the floor as close to Harry as possible by the Jonny pod; you noticed Harry favored the side more, knowing his dear friend was in the audience tonight. From surprise songs to dancing and Mitch receiving his Grammy, you knew it would be a night you would never forget. As Harry began his encore with “Sign of the Times,” the rain started falling, and so did your tears. The fact that over 90 thousand people were here for Harry said enough. They chose to spend their evening with him, and he delivered to make it memorable.

You didn’t even notice that Brad captured a photo of you staring at Harry on stage with a giant smile and hands over your heart you would only see later when Harry made it his lock screen. Harry thanks the crowd for a magical night stating over and over again that he’s never been happier.

Brad wraps an arm around you and walks you towards Harry, who’s sharing long hugs and meaningful words with his bandmates. This is the man you love, and there’s nothing you’d change about it. You followed Harry to the dressing room, wanting a moment alone before the madness. Harry bounces around quickly to change, removing the overalls and shimming them down his waist. He slips on shorts, throws on a random shirt, and puts on his new Adidas Love on Tour sweater with his initials.

You lean against the door admiring him in all his glory. He didn’t bother for a shower, too eager to see everyone.

“I’m proud of you,” you whisper. “I know it might not mean much, but I am.”

Harry pauses, finishes tying his shoe, and walks over to you. He stops before you, his hands finding a home on your cheeks. “It means the world. Don’t ever think it doesn’t. We might only have been together for two months, but my heart has loved you my entire life. You being here is enough. I could feel your love from the stage.”

He connects your lips together, and you melt against him. Harry breathes life into you, and you never want him to stop. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Harry. So much.”

“Good. Let’s go mingle.” You move away from the door and make your way outside when he tugs you back in. “Forgot one last thing.”

He hurries over to his bag, pulls out an identical sweater, and hands it to you. You accept it moving and look it over. Your eyes quickly find your initials on the right side, similar to his.

“Harry—this isn’t necessary.”

Harry shrugs, “it was your idea.”

You don’t fight him as he slips off your red leather jacket and helps you slip on the thin material. He fixes the collar making sure none of your hair is tucked under. Harry decides you look good, giving you a pat on the butt. “Now we can go.”

Harry held your hand as you walked over to the area Jeff had set up for the celebration. He mentioned there would be another location later in the night, but it would be good to let the crowds outside die out. On your walk over, Harry told you about outfits and signs he saw in the crowd. How overwhelmed he came when the rain came down. He felt at home.

You expressed how much fun you had, told Harry how Jeff and Tommy taught you the boot scoot during “Treat People,” and assured him many videos of your failed attempt were taken. Harry paused outside the door where you could hear the loud chatter, and you knew what was waiting for you behind those doors. Harry shoots you a look, and you give him a reassuring smile letting him know it’s okay to go in.

The cheers are loud when the man of the hour walks in. Everyone was quick to gather around him. You try to sneak away, but his grip on your hand stays tight. Every person who thanks him, he makes sure to introduce you.

“Love, go celebrate. It’s alright. I’ll be fine,” you tell him in a low voice.

Harry shakes his head, instead kissing you and pulling you along to meet and chat with new people. You felt a bit overwhelmed, but everyone has been so sweet. They asked where you were from? Scotland. What was your job? An editor. How did you meet? Coffee Shop. How proud were you? Immensely.

You kept trying to hang back, but Harry seemed to notice when you drifted away. He would kiss you and ask for your input in the conversation. You told him you were getting a drink and would be back momentarily, except you got a vodka cranberry and hid in a corner. Harry found you when your drink was half gone.

“Babyyy,” he called out. “Missed you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as he wrapped himself around you. He moved you away from the wall, making you face the crowd, his hands around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You lean against him, happy to be wrapped in his arms, feeling safe. “I love you, bub.”

Harry takes a sip of your drink and hums at the bitterness of the cranberry. He knows you’re a social drinker because it allows you to relax and not be as anxious. You and Harry get lost in your world as you let him talk your ear off. He tells you about people around the room, who they are, and how they’ve helped them. Surprisingly, Harry can name everyone in the room, though it shouldn’t shock you much. It’s just the type of person he is.

Your boyfriend is an affectionate person. He loves having a hand on the small of your back or your hand in his. He wants to be close because he says he wants makeup when he’s away. Some would say it makes him look clingy, but lucky for you, you love his touch; it’s comforting. You could feel his smile against your skin as he planted kisses on your face.

Even while in your corner, people come up to you. When they see Harry begin to kiss your shoulder or whisper in your ear, they excuse themselves. You can’t help but feel you are keeping Harry from celebrating with everyone, not realizing he’s happy to celebrate with you in his arms.

“Harry! Sue!” Is yelled from across the room. You see a short, dirty-haired blonde yell and wave for him, but Harry is too busy peppering kisses all over your neck to realize.

“Bubby, love. They’re calling for you.”

He hums against your neck. “I’m perfect here.”

You sigh because the yelling continues, and you’re starting to feel overwhelmed because he’s not celebrating. Instead, Harry is ensuring you’re not nervous, which seems like the most boring job in the world. He should be taking shots with friends and telling stories about the last four nights.

“Go on, I’ll be right behind you,” you promise him.

Harry tightens his hold on you, “baby, you sure?”

“Yes, no go. I’ll even bring you a drink.”

“Te–”

“Tequila neat,” you tease. “I know you.”

Harry pecks your lips once, twice, and a third time before making his way across the room, but not before looking over his shoulder one last time at you. You shoot him a wink and exaggerate, looking at his bum and making him laugh. He moves his hips a little extra just for you. As Harry easily falls into the conversation, you use this moment as an opportunity for a breather.

You were alone for around five minutes when you heard footsteps coming your way. You were in a corridor that led you out to the stage if you continued walking down but stopped halfway, knowing no one would come this way. You were wrong.

Harry is who you expected to see, but to your surprise, it’s Gemma, his older sister.

“Hi,” you greet softly. The conversations with Gemma have been short, but from what you can tell, she’s wise beyond her years and always ready to listen.

“You okay?” She asks, straight to the point.

“A bit loud,” you gesture towards the hallway where the music can still be heard.

She nods, “I get that.” Gemma looks around before moving to stand next to you shoulder to shoulder. “Are you okay?” She asks again.

You sigh, “I—i-i.”

“A bit much for a family gathering.”

“A bit,” you exhale, knowing Gemma understands what you might be feeling.

“It’s the perfect opportunity, I feel. I did forget how overwhelming it was. I don’t even remember my boyfriend’s first family gathering.”

“Are you saying I won’t remember this in a few years?”

“Oh, you’re never forgetting tonight.” She smirks, “unless you keep drinking.”

You scrunch your nose at the thought. “Better not.”

The two of you stand in silence, and you know it’s because Gemma is giving you a minute to gather your thoughts.

“I just—I love Harry. I do. I hope you don’t doubt that, but I don’t know how to celebrate when you’ve all been here for him every step of the way. Year after year.”

Gemma deflates, “oh, Y/N.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—” Gemma cuts you off.

“It’s okay,” she assures you. “It’s difficult because of his job, not because of who he is. But trust me when I say he loves you.” Gemma’s words are firm, and you believe her. As an older sister, you would do anything to protect your siblings but never lie to someone important.

“Harry talks about you every chance he gets. Did you know Y/N ran a marathon? She’s swam with sharks in a reservation center. Y/N’s CPR certified. She edited and helped publish five number-one books this year,” Gemma rambles off. “We all know so much because he’s proud and wants to share it with those close to him.”

“I-I didn’t know.” You let all of this process, but it’s a shock because some of the things Gemma listed mean nothing, but clearly, to him, mean everything.

“Everyone in that room,” Gemma points over her shoulder, “knows who you are and what you mean to him.”

“Everyone?” You whisper. It doesn’t feel real. You’d never been so loved, and it might be why you’re feeling overwhelmed because he wants to bask in your love. It’s not a show; it’s simply his way of showing he loves you in front of everyone he cares about.

“Celebrate how you want but know all we want is to see him happy. It’s clear as day that you make him happy. This is the happiest I’ve seen him, and it’s because of you. Maybe even happier than selling out Wembley.”

“Thank you, Gemma.” She hugs you tight, and it’s so familiar yet different from Harry’s. His is light and full of love, while Gemma’s is tight and warm. “He wrote you a beautiful song.” You’re referring to “Sweet Creature,” which he dedicated to her tonight.

“It’s a special one. Don’t worry. I hear you’ll be getting yours soon enough,” she teases. “I’ll see you inside.”

A few seconds later, someone else joins you. It’s as if your body knows who it is without seeing them because you feel the familiar flutter in your stomach as his smell wraps around you.

“Baby, where did you go?” Harry whines. Baby is a term of endearment that comes out a lot when he’s had more than one to drink. It’s your favorite during these times.

“I’m here,” you open your arms, and he happily falls in your embrace. “I’m proud of you, love.” You run a hand through the back of his head, keeping him close.

“Thank you, baby.”

“Like really proud. You’re so loved. What you do is incredible. I feel so lucky to be able to love you.”

Harry pulls back, and you see his beautiful eyes glistening with tears threatening to fall soon. “I love you.”

You press your lips against his and put all your love into the kiss. You wish you could spend the rest of the night kissing him, but there is more celebrating to do. Harry doesn’t let you pull away, instead deepening the kiss. You melt against him, forgetting your worries and enjoying this moment with him. A moment only for the two of you to remember.

“Let’s keep celebrating, my love,” you whisper against his lips.

“Still nervous?” He checks.

“Only a smidge.”

Harry smiles, “that’s okay. I’ll hold your hand.”

“You won’t let go?”

“Never,” he promises.

As you return to the party holding tight to his hand, he asks an important question. “Can I keep kissing you?”

Your laugh rings loud, echoing through Harry’s heart. You bring your hand up to rest at the back of his neck and pull him down for a kiss. “As much as you like.”

[trapastrology]

Venus-North Node Synastry

~Using Jamie and Landon from "A Walk To Remember"~

Song that corresponds- Teach Me by Musiq Soulchild

Venus-North Node synastry is without a doubt one of my most favorite synastry placements. Especially when it’s sextile! Jamie and Landon show how this synastry plays out very well. Jamie is Venus while Landon is North Node. As we can see they come from two different worlds, have 2 different mindsets, morals etc. Jamie is still in his South node when he meets Jamie so he exhibits those traits. In the beginning of this synastry the venus person is unknowingly helping the north node person get closer to where they need to be simply by saying/doing things that they normally do. At first, the NN person is pulling back a lot. Like him not wanting to be seen with her, calling her interests stupid, and hanging with the popular crowd etc. But that soon changes the more her venus influences his NN. Venus unconsciously inspires the NN person to want to be a better them and often pick up a lot of hobbies/interests that Venus is interested in. Venus exposes them to new things that they never knew of that’s a part of Venus's daily life. North Node becomes more artistic and peaceful, less stubborn, improving oneself and realizing that they have someone they can be vulnerable with. Venus has the natural ability to put NN at ease, they’re like the breath of fresh air that nn so desperately needed. They’re like the missing component to life that nn didn’t even know they were missing. As a result of Venus’s presence, NN person now has more self-confidence and believes in themselves and what they can do. A creative bug they’ve never had suddenly won’t stop biting them. Usually picking up the exact same or similar hobby that venus has and loves. Their life that once had no direction becomes very clear now and Venus is usually in the center of it. There’s mutual support, great communication, shared values (that were once very different), personal growth and great conflict resolution. Here the North Node person and The Venus person evolve together! The Node Node is usually more drastic and apparent to others. However, Venus’s perspective on love and relationships changes a lot here and they feel very fulfilled by the person the NN has changed into. This is a love that stands the test of time more often than not. I’d say their Venus & NN was in earth signs being that they both brought each other a sense of comfy stability and helped each other complete their life's goals. 

Quotes from the Movie that are true to this synastry… 

~~~~~~~

“Landon, look, I thought i saw something in you, something good, but i was very wrong” -Jamie This is usually how the Venus person feels when the NN person isn’t accepting but instead afraid of the change they feel venus invoking. Causing them to act out in many ways then hurting the venus person. 

“You don’t know what you want” -Jamie In the beginning the NN person actually is clueless as to what they want in life and the direction they're going to take. 

“She makes me want to be different, better” -Landon Venus, without trying, inspires the NN person in many ways to want to be better and improve themselves. They may also look up to the Venus person in some way or want to know that they are proud of them and who they’ve become. 

“Maybe you inspire me” -Landon 

“She’s the best person I’ve ever known” - Landon More often than not and depending on other aspects, the north node person feels this way. 

“Jamie saved my life. She taught me everything. About life, hope and the long journey ahead.”- Landon

“I hadn't done any of the things that I normally did with girls, yet somehow I'd fallen in love.”-Landon This is very common in this synastry. Even down to venus not being NN’s type. Yet somehow the north node feels things for this person they’ve never felt with anyone before. 

“Listen, I’m sorry I haven’t treated Jamie the way I should’ve. She deserves more than that. I’m just asking you for the same thing that you teach us every day in church. And that’s faith.” -Landon The response I wrote for the first quote applies here. As well as NN realizing their mistakes and wrong doings from embodying their SN and doing the best they can to do right by the Venus person. 

Thank you for reading, if you’d like to book a reading, join my Patreon or know more about my e-book, “Written in the Cosmos” check my pinned post!

[zer0pm]

Imagine being an undercover agent who once infiltrated Umbrella and grew close to Luis Serra. You were forced to separate from him, never telling him why and broke his heart in the process. When you thought that you have finally moved on, you find him again. Tied up in a sack.

“What’s in Spain?”

“My home. A village, to be exact. And remote. The people there could use people like us to help them. No one would be able to find us there. Not even Umbrella. There, we can disappear.”

“…I’m sorry, Luis. I can’t.”

.

“You seem distracted.”

“What?” you blink, immediately biting your tongue after. But it was too late, you were caught red-handed.

“Case in point,” your partner Leon sighs. “So, what is it? What’s on your mind?”

You reply with a frown, “I’m wondering how deep these tunnels go. Must have something important down here for these… villagers to go through the trouble of trying to lock it up inconspicuously.”

It was such a blatant lie, the blond’s stony expression showed that he wasn’t buying it at all. But Leon doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leads on with his gun and flashlight pointing forward in the darkness. You were relieved that he didn’t press further.

But he’s also right. You were distracted and on a mission where a steady, focused mind is imperative at all times. Mulling over the past on things that were best laid forgotten is meaningless and offered no benefit to the task at hand. So why bother even allowing it to weigh so heavily in your thoughts?

Because what are the odds that this is the same place that he mentioned? The one that he wanted to hide away with you within? Given everything you’ve seen so far, with all these monsters roaming about, you sincerely hope not. Surely this is all coincidental and that he is in some other part of Spain.

.

“You mentioned that you grew up in Spain, right? What was it like there?”

“Oh? For once you don’t want to talk about work or whatever ingenius discoveries I’ve made recently? Pero, you actually want to engage in small talk? It must be a sign!”

“Answer the question or I’m requesting a department change.”

“Calma, calma. I only tease. Hmm… The weather can be unforgiving, especially during the rainy season. The people live day-to-day on whatever resources that can grow or be found under the constantly harsh conditions. Sickness often spreads and the treatment is… archaic.”

“This all sounds awful.”

“It wasn’t all bad. Everyone in our small community had someone to support them. I had my grandfather. He helped shape me to be the man I am today. A very handsome man at that, with both brains and brawn. In case, you didn’t notice already.”

“He must be very proud of you.”

“I hope so...”

“You don’t keep in touch?”

“So interested in my life story all of a sudden. And yet I still know so little of yours.”

“What’s there to know? There’s not much to tell.”

“See, that is where you’re wrong, my friend. A key to a great story is time to gather your thoughts. And I wouldn’t mind making time to listen to yours. How does after work sound? There’s an excellent coffee spot around the corner.”

“…You know what? A drink sounds great.”

.

You should have rejected him then and there. The task was only to gather information and find evidence of the production of biochemical weaponry. Forming attachments was not part of the job. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him then, convincing yourself that it was necessary to reinforce your cover. You were seen as just a researcher forging deep interpersonal relationships with your fellow coworker and not at all a spy for the government sent to infiltrate a pharmaceutical giant for secrets that could topple a nation.

No one suspected a thing- not Umbrella, not your handlers, not even him. It worked. But it didn’t make you feel any less guilty about it, especially when you developed real feelings for him and he reciprocated them earnestly and affectionately. At first, you meant to play along with no intention of taking him seriously. The Spanish researcher expressed himself as a man who talks a big game but settles down or folds over for no one. He had a reputation within the labs as a serial flirt after all.

However, the day he casually asked you out, he surprised you. Beneath all the playful, charming remarks and practiced come-hither smirks belied a genuine romantic. He was a man passionate about his work, driven by a real desire to help others. He cared about other people, evident at how intently he listened to you when your shared bits of yourself to him. Granted, much of what you said then was fabricated to uphold your secret identity, but he showed unwavering interest in you and the image you created as if you two were only people in that coffee shop that mattered. After one date came another, then another, then another until you lost count. You fell for him and you fell for him hard. And before you knew it, at his suggestion, the two of you moved in together.

It was a dream. A wonderful dream. You couldn’t remember the last time you lived a normal life, let alone someone to come home to. It was such a domestic feeling. To go wit him to work by day then go home together by night to fall asleep in each other’s arms and do it all over again the following morning. To fall into a routine was strange and something you grew affectionately accustomed to. And it was all because of him. He made you feel safe. He made you feel loved. He made you feel normal. But it was only a dream. And all dreams eventually come to an end.

It got to a point where you dug yourself so deep that by the time you had to shed your identity and leave him, it left scars that neither of you would ever recover from.

.

“¿Qué? What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I can’t go to Spain with you.”

“Is it the location? We can go anywhere you want,l, but we have to make sure we hide our tracks from Umbrella-”

“I mean that I can’t go with you. Anywhere. Period.”

“¿Mande? Why.”

“I want to tell you, I really do.”

“…Tú no me quieres.”

“No! Of course I do.”

“Then why? Why can’t you run away with me? I can protect us, you just have to trust-”

“This isn’t about trust.”

“Then tell me what it is!”

“…This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“L-Lo siento, mi corazon. I didn’t meant to shout. We can work through this-”

“Just please remember that what we had was real.”

“¡Amor!”

“Goodbye, Luis.”

.

That was the last time you saw him. You broke his heart, the pieces of yours shattered away with every step that you took away from him. Revisiting those memories all caused a single tear to fall down your cheek.

You have to move on. It’s been long enough. It was all to protect him, you told yourself countless times. In your line of work, attachments just do not (and cannot) stick. And you stuck with that choice without an ounce of regret. You only hope that wherever Luis is now, he’s happy and safe. That alone kept you going.

When you finally broke yourself out of your daze, you found yourself facing a wall. You quietly berated yourself for your absentmindedness again and were grateful for the darkness. Luckily, your fellow agent didn’t notice you or your inner turmoil, something else catching his attention at the end of the tunnel.

“Over here. I found someone.”

Your head snaps towards Leon’s direction, your heartache momentarily dulled and set aside. “Ashley Graham?”

“Don’t know yet,” Leon replies, crouching down. “Here, hold the light.”

You hurry over to the blond’s side, taking the flashlight from him and directing it towards his finding. A large sack, big enough for a person, was flailing about. The sound of muffled struggling reaches your ears. Leon unties the top of the thick cloth before pulling it down. You almost didn’t believe what, or rather, who you were seeing. But your eyes were blown wide in recognition before Leon rips the tape off of their mouth. There was no mistaking those rugged features, that dark hair, and those grey eyes that you fell in love with helplessly so long ago.

It was him. The man that haunted your every thoughts and dreams. The man that dug his way into your heart and made a home there.

Luis Serra Navarro.

“Oh no, not you.”

The man merely gazes back at you, momentarily stunned before chuckling in that husky voice of his that you thought you’d never hear again.

“I’ve missed you too, mi corazon,” he says. His eyes glide over your form lasciviously, uncaring that you (and your partner) can see him staring shamelessly. He looked and smiled at you as if the years spent apart never happened. “Te ves bien.”

You had so many questions.

.

.

.

A/N: Part Two can be found right here~

[lafleshlumpeater]

can you do an ethan nakamura x reader pls 🥺

If you can't it's okay ❤️

i hope you werent looking for anything specific but this is what i came up with<3

(i tried to make this as gn as possible- lmk if theres anything wrong w it)

Warnings: ethan is a bit (a lot) in love, unbelievably cheesy plot, gn reader

(im sorry for tsitp reference i had to okay- also for the plot we’ll just pretend ethan is the only nemesis child)

ethan nakamura masterlist

To say Ethan was infatuated was an understatement.

The few who knew him well had never seen him like this before. Jaw slack, eyes wide and blind to the rest of the world every time you walked past.

He wanted to talk to you. If only his voice didn’t fail him every time you offered him a courteous smile, asking how he was and if his day was going okay.

He was torn- between wanting to be bold, asking you out with an air of confidence he didn’t care to admit his lack of, and admiring you from a safe distance, sighing wistfully with want.

And one day, the opportunity to be bold was granted to him, although seemingly insignificant-  teasing him, forcing him to make the decision between taking his chance or letting it fly past him.

“Ethan,” you greet, awfully chirpily, Ethan thinks, for a cold Sunday afternoon. He can’t help but love it, though.

“Hey,” he responds, feigning at indifference. Really, his heart rate sped up a notch and he could feel his face grow warmer, and just knowing that fact painted his cheeks a more prominent red. You don’t seem to notice, and he thanks all the gods (bitterly) for your oblivion to his adoration.

Kicking the cabin door shut behind you, you hold a clipboard and a pen in your hands. “Cabin inspection,” you smile smugly, eyes honing in on every detail of the room which made it an utter mess. Ethan cringed.

“That was today?”

“Unfortunately for you.” You smirk. With a facade of innocence, you bat your eyelashes and Ethan’s stomach flips. “I assume someone… forgot?”

He bites his lip, indiscreetly kicking rubbish under the bed. “Uhh…”

You shrug, scribbling on your clipboard. “Cabin Sixteen… stable duties.”

“No!” he exclaims in protest, louder than he meant to. You look up at him through your lashes.

“No?”

“Can- can we forget about this, just for once? For one, there’s no- one else to help me clean, and this is the first time I’ve…” Ethan falters once he realises you’re teasing, lips quirked up into a playful smirk.

“What’ll you give me if I do?”

His racing mind slows.

What?

Was this you flirting with him?

With him? Of all people?

After a tense pause, he slowly rises to his feet, taking a small step towards you, letting out a highly intelligent, well- deliberated: “Huh?”

You giggle coyishly. “I said, ‘what’ll you give me if I do’?”

Ethan swallows.

He’s never been the most outgoing of people.

Taking another step towards you, pauses for a second. His decision could mess everything up, but better to mess everything up rather than to have the regret eating away at him for ages to come, right?

Wetting his lips, Ethan walks slowly to stand in front of you- leaning in slightly. When you don’t pull away, he takes it as encouragement.

With a deep breath, he reaches out, gently tilting your chin to face him and presses his warm, soft lips to yours.

This wasn’t proofread at all so… please lmk if it doesn’t make sense anywhere before i re read it one day and cry <3

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

[laiiaaa]

ONE NIGHT ONLY — JJ MAYBANK

summary: JJ has never really liked your boyfriend, but you're not all that fond of him either.

contains: angst, substance use, smut, unprotected sex, cheating, a teeny tiny smidgen of fluff that is quickly destroyed

length: 5.6k

note: Be advised that both Reader and JJ are...pretty terrible! I do not condone their actions—I just live for the drama!

Three shots deep, what’s the worst that could happen? You’re perfectly tipsy—lights just a little brighter, music just a little louder, a buzz thrumming through you that makes everything fun again. Bonfire air warm against you, somehow not enough to fight off a chill that keeps JJ at your side. His body molded to yours, spilling open a pool in your gut you know you’ll mull over when tomorrow comes, tank top disheveled and hair tangled.

Sarah takes a sip of her beer and nods in your direction. “I’ve been wondering, where’s Noah tonight?”

You’d been hoping his name wouldn’t come up.

“Hm, funny that that little boy toy didn’t show up—we scare him off or something? So fast?” John B seems smug at that, maybe a little resentful for your attempt at bringing someone new into the loop.

You fumble over your answer, hoping to piece together something half coherent. “He had to work tonight, I think—or maybe it was babysitting?” You’re halfway to biting your tongue when you let it slip: “Not like I’m missing the company.”

You can feel JJ peering down at you, the way his body freezes. 

Kie’s eyebrows shoot up on instinct. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, glancing at JJ to your left. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Never said it was paradise,” you shrug. You’re almost glad JJ’s so close to you, because it lets you speak freely to him without having to look at him as you do it. “I like him, I really do, but he’s just—I don’t know. I think he thinks you guys don’t like him.”

JJ scoffs.

“And that makes him all awkward when we’re all together,” you continue, ignoring him and trailing off. Your buzz is starting to make you ramble on, and the rest of the pogues look from one another as if they’ve already come to their own unanimous conclusion about the boy.

“I think he’s sweet,” Sarah says, smiling in support.

Pope adds more wood to the fire. “He’s a decent guy. He’ll come around. You’ve been together, what, two months now?”

“Almost three,” JJ cuts in, bitter as the beer he’s been downing since before the sun set. His arm stays warped around you, but his fingers have stopped tracing patterns into your skin.

“Almost three,” Pope continues, “And that’s not a lot of time, right? It’ll work itself out.”

You wish you could say you were content with Pope’s conclusion, but you give him a thankful smile anyway. 

No one else seems to have anything to add until JJ throws his empty bottle off to the side, ignoring the table. He huffs, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve seen him surf, though. Now that, that will never work itself out. The guy looks helpless out there.” He nods in the general direction of nowhere in particular, and you know he means more than he’s led on. 

The others look at one another. John B sips slowly from his bottle in silent communication with Sarah; Pope and Kie exchange a knowing glance. 

Yet he continues, “And I just don’t like the guy. What does he know about our lives?”

You sit up as his arm slips from its position on your shoulder, and you turn to face him. “JJ,” you interrupt, guilt bubbling in your gut as your throat runs dry.

“As far as we know, he’s an almost-kook just looking for pathetic pogue life to make him feel better about himself.” He turns to you directly, and if that weren’t a big enough knife to your chest, he drives it deeper still. “He’s full of himself, Peach, and nobody’s gonna tell you that but me. To him we’re filthy, and so are you—”

“JJ!” John B snaps, trying to salvage what he could of your dignity.

Try as he might, that couldn’t stop a near-silent cry from slipping past your lips. Tears welled, your vision fuzzed, and a hand shot to your mouth, shakily, as JJ stared back at you, his lips in a taught, indignant line.

You swipe tears from your eyes before they can fully realize. “I think I’m gonna…” you start, not even fully aware of the best way to exit. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick, get some water…” You stand up from your chair wearily, turning your back on the group as you walk toward the Chateau.

Sarah mutters an Oh, shit under her breath as she discards her beer and stands up, Kie right in front of her calling out your name.

You slam the door shut behind you, sobs fully escaping you now. You’ve never known this side of JJ—at least not personally, with his vitriol aimed at you. Funny how things have unfolded this way. And to think how not even half a year ago you’d shared a bed with him, barely clothed with tangled limbs and fleeting kisses to exposed skin, his lips against yours as you drank from one another all you had to give and then some more for good measure. To think how that tight-lipped stare was once a contagious smile in the crook of your neck, muttering sweet nothings of your beauty and his adoration. To think how that elation was short-lived beyond comprehension, all that ecstasy in just one night only.

It doesn’t take long before you find the proper stash of the hard stuff and start sipping it straight. The burn down your throat has never felt so good, cathartic even. Sarah and Kie find you in the kitchen, back turned before bottoms up, and they rush over to you, Kie slipping the bottle from your hands.

“Hey,” Sarah says, taking your face in her palms, thumbs brushing tears from your cheeks. “You need to stay as sober as possible, okay? Because we both know JJ well enough to know he’s gonna come in here, and you’re gonna have to talk to him.”

You brush her hands away from you. “Fuck off,” you start, and you wince at your tone. She can smell the alcohol on your breath. The bottle clanks behind you as Kie stows it away once again, and you curse the two girls for only letting you get another shot and a half in your system.

You settle yourself on the couch, Sarah and Kie sitting on either side of you. The room is dark and quiet and for just a moment you feel your head clear up, the only sound you hear being the bass from the music outside and what might as well be no more than laughter among the boys.

“JJ sucks,” Kie sighs, plainly.

“Yeah.” You feel her turn toward you before you answer, “He can be a real dick.”

“What he said to you was terrible,” Sarah adds, brushing your hair out of your face. “I’m sorry we didn’t say anything to shut him up.”

You lend her a smile, as if it could repair everything. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not,” Kie insists. She hugs you to her chest for the first time in a long time. “We shouldn’t have let him go so far with it. He was mean, really mean, and—it shouldn’t be that way. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I feel bad for Noah. How am I supposed to look at him again knowing that’s how people think of him?”

“JJ’s the only one who hates him.” Sarah piles herself onto the hug and in that moment, the three of you know you’ll be okay. “The rest of us like him, and I promise you that. John B seems to approve.”

Kie laughs quietly. “And I can assure you, Pope is glad to have someone else around with at least half a brain. We just want you to be happy, okay?”

“JJ doesn’t seem to agree,” you huff.

“Well—” Kie starts, struggling to find the words— “He doesn’t like change.”

“He’ll come around,” Sarah sighs. “He just needs a minute to act like a brat for the time being.”

The three of you stay that way—a pile of subtle tears and breathless giggles—until the squeaky door cuts into the conversation. With it comes John B’s voice: “Can we interrupt?”

Sarah lifts her head and sees first John B, followed by a now quiet, more timid JJ, and Pope left in the doorway. She glances at you and stands while motioning for Kie to follow, and the two girls gather at the door. Everyone in the room except you and JJ can’t help but notice the way his attention gravitates toward you, the way his body flows closer to yours without him giving it more than half a thought. 

“Can we talk?” he asks, and he says it like it’s taboo: eyes pointed at the ground, hat in his hands.

He cuts into your chest once more, but you shift toward one end of the couch anyway to welcome him in. The others take their cue to exit, leaving you and JJ alone again, unfortunately not for the first time. The couch cushion sinks under his weight. You start to follow suit under the weight of your shared silence.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally, and it doesn’t even begin to be enough.

You tuck your knees to your chest, your whole body turned toward him as he only keeps facing forward. It’s always been like this: you, giving him your all; and him, fighting not to do the same. You stay silent, more as a result of your inability to respond than an active choice.

“I went too far, and I—it was fucked up.”

When you take a deep breath, you’re wobbly in your chest. The moonlight slipping through the windows lets you see his face just enough to remind yourself of the curve of his nose, the soft skin of his cheek—as if you hadn’t already memorized it by now. 

“What did Noah ever do to you, Jay? He’s only ever been kind to you, I—I thought you would’ve at least tolerated him, but—” You stop yourself before tears start to spill.

JJ finally turns to face you when he thinks you’ve started to cry. He’s got a new shiner now, you realize, a busted lip. If you weren’t part of the reason behind it, you’d ask whether John B’s left hook has gotten any better. Maybe it hasn’t, and he only thought he deserved a beating.

“He didn’t do anything, alright—he’s just—I just don’t like him, I don’t think he’s right for you.” His hands fidgeting, his eyes dancing everywhere but in your direction, tell you he isn’t giving the full story.

“Then who is? I’m not even asking you to love the guy, or care about him like you care about John B or Pope, or hang out with him in your free time—I just want some basic respect.”

He looks at you, confused, brows furrowed together as if you’ve misheard him. “I know that, Peach—”

“Then why can’t I at least have someone? You don’t get to fuck with my love life just because you don’t like the guy—you don’t like any guy, JJ.” 

You’re breathing heavier by the end of it, and maybe it’s the fact you’ve spilled it out as you have, or it’s the pleading look he’s burning into you with, but you’re finally starting to get it. The lingering glances he lets slip by whenever you bring Noah around, keeping track of the fleeting touches JJ hasn’t been able to give himself; the way he’s attached to your hip the moment you’re alone, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, keeping you tethered to him; the comments here and there from Kie and Pope about some secret admirer, some undercover lover in disguise who will emerge eventually from the shadows.

JJ looks guilty, it’s melting off his skin like acid. He brings his eyes to yours, a knowing look to condemn you both. “I still think about that night, y’know—”

“Please, don’t.”

“And I haven’t been with anyone else since, you know that—”

“JJ, you know we can’t—”

“Am I really that bad?” he asks, tears in his eyes that call for your own. “I mean, we can’t even talk about it now.”

You take a deep breath once more. “I tried, when it happened, remember? To talk? But you left me alone, all high and dry and in your bed.”

“I know, and that was wrong, but we can try again,” he pleads, and you can nearly taste the satisfaction in slapping him across the face just by picturing it. “I can be better.”

“I want to believe you, Jay—”

“Then believe me—” he shifts toward you, leaning into your space with one shoulder grazing yours and the opposite hand cradling your jaw, hesitantly— “I want to try again, we can do things slow, I promise.”

You close your eyes as you breathe deep, relishing in his touch once more. Yet the deeper you breathe, the harder you feel him, the harder tears pool and fall into that touch. “You were so mean, I don’t understand—you keep hurting me.”

“I know,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I know, baby. And I wouldn’t blame you for hating me—”

“Stop it, Jay—” you push his hands off of you, standing instead, a foot from the couch and burning from his touch— “I have a boyfriend now, we can’t just try again because you’ve finally come around. I’m over it now, I…”

Standing taller than him now, he looks like such a battered little boy. It’s almost a shame he’s just as stubborn. 

“Listen, Peach,” he starts, reaching for your hands and intertwining your fingers loose enough to break free. “I was pure stupid back then, and I was terrible to you just now because—because I know now, that I was stupid.” He pulls you closer to stand between his legs, his neck craned to see your face. “And I’m sorry for being so stupid. I fucked up, but I want to fix this. I want to fix us.”

You shake one hand free to wipe a tear that’s fallen to your cheek.

“I want us back to normal, Peach.”

 “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“It’s okay.” He guides you gently into his lap, and you know before you settle that this will be something you regret. Your stomach churns and your heart races yet you make no move to quell it. You link your hands at the nape of his neck to steady yourself while he takes purchase of your hip, your waist, relishing in your weight against his one more time. 

You’re already leaning into his warmth when he mumbles, “I can smell the vodka on your breath,” tracing his eyes along the gentle curves of your face, landing on your lips.

“Sorry,” you say. You don’t quite mean it, not when his fingers brush against the skin beneath the hem of your tank top. His golden locks between your fingers feel too familiar and you're fighting the feeling in your chest—that yearning, that belonging, that buzz that tells you this is right even though it is anything but.

He pulls you closer still, oh so natural as he does it even though he’s suffocating. 

“Should we be doing this?” you whisper, and you already know the answer. You cradle his jaw in your hands and he nearly melts into you, brows furrowed and jaw slackened.

“I said I want us back to normal,” he croons, pressing his lips to your pulse. “Is this not normal for us?” He drags his breath down your neck to your collarbone, leaving another kiss and lulling your eyes closed. 

“JJ, I—Noah—”

“I don’t give a damn about your boyfriend.” He waits for you to look at him again before he begs the question, “Do you?”

“I—” 

No, you think, but you can’t tell him that, can you? Noah is sweet, he really is, all smiles and daisies and See you laters, all gentle and kind and so unlike JJ, one has to wonder how you made the switch. The last thing you want to do is hurt him. Well, you know what they say: What he doesn’t know… 

“I don’t know,” you answer, facing anywhere but the boy before you.

“Then come back to me.” He kisses your jaw carefully, all-parts loving no-parts lust. Glancing up at you with those pleading eyes, he’s even harder to resist, and as if he knows this, he huffs, and lifts his hands from your waist, keeping them at his sides. “You can say no, and we’ll act like this never happened.”

“Really?” Maybe he’s just playing coy. “You’d just—just forget? About everything? Even before?” You’re asking for reassurance, of course, but unsure why. Maybe you’re the one playing coy, deep down wanting to be wanted by him—wanting him to remember, to keep remembering you—because in the end you want to taste him again, to have him wrapped around your finger. 

“Say the word and I’ll try my hardest.” 

He does exactly that—try, that is—to keep his composure, with your hand brushing from his jaw to his hair, tugging it just right, then slipping back down his neck to his chest, teasing at the fabric of his muscle tee. His skin is aflame and you’re just playing with him as he burns.

Admittedly, you shouldn’t. Infidelity is a terrible, terrible thing, for terribly dishonest people who lead immeasurably misguided lives. Noah doesn’t seem the type to cheat, or lie for that matter, nor would he ever hurt you. He’s the last person to deserve that. He’s crisp, clean-cut, careful. Plays two sports, has a golden retriever, owns his own car. Will probably go on to be respectably wealthy, owning a family business or something related to it. JJ’s prior judgment could’ve been right, and you’d be none the wiser.

And maybe that’s the problem, after all—not enough bumps in the road and you’re bound to fly off into a chasm. It’s not what you’re used to, and, surely if you’re in another boy’s lap, for God’s sake, it’s definitely not what you deserve either. 

Besides, you’ve already screwed up too many times to count. Why stop now?

JJ’s been more patient than you’ve ever seen. His hands stay still, his eyes attentive, smile stifled for the most part. You indulge yourself and trace his arms with the palms of your hands, feel up the muscle beneath them, fight off the urge to bite at your lip. He keeps his face still, a challenge. They say good things come to those who wait.

“Oh fuck this,” you curse to yourself, and you swear you see JJ crack a smile before you take his face in your hands once more and take back ownership over his mouth. 

He nearly groans at the release, the two of you a mess of spit and teeth and tongue with no time to waste, and his hands are caught suspended in the air before holding you again, encouraging an arch in your back with a moan. He doesn’t kiss you like he did before, unsure and gentle; he’s hungry for you, insatiable, wrapping one arm around your waist as the other snakes up your back to grip the back of your neck, keeping you tethered to him as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. 

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so much of JJ at once: the smell of marijuana that seems to follow him wherever he goes has never been so intoxicating; on his tongue is the beer he’d been drinking by the bonfire; and his skin is still warm to the touch from the sun, smooth and sweaty and addictive beneath you.

You press your hips into his, throbbing where you want him, and he answers you with a moan and his hands gripping your thighs as he hoists you against his waist. He kisses at your neck, biting at your pulse and smoothing over with another press of his lips, and carries you into his bedroom, kicking the door shut before carefully placing you on the bed. 

“Gentleman, huh?” you murmur against his lips. You sit on your heels, nearly kneeling in front of him as he stands before the bed.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.” He’s breathless, so hard it hurts, and the way you’re dragging your hands from his waistband up to his chest isn’t doing him any favors. Looking down at you, he grips your jaw in his hand and leans down to kiss you again, giving in effortlessly when you tug on his waistband and pull him into bed. 

You straddle him as you play with the hem of his tank, pressing at the skin concealed beneath. “Take this off?” you nearly beg.

He shucks the material off, mumbling a Yes ma’am, pliant beneath you. He has to close his eyes, tilt his head back, and breathe deep to stop himself from coming undone just from your touch against bare skin. 

To make things even, you peel off your tank top and toss it back at him to get his attention. When he opens his eyes he groans, almost pained, and pulls you further on top of him, not letting his hands leave your body. “Oh, baby—”

You kiss him quiet and press your hips against him harder, exchanging moans into the other’s mouth. You start to lose yourself in it, you realize—the throbbing in your core, the almost-soreness in your hips matched with all the pleasure. Another minute and you could be coming undone, untouched.

“Jay,” you whine, “I—mmh—I want it.”

With the look on his face you’d think you’d asked him to marry you. “Already?” he asks, more satisfied than shocked. He sits up, that stupid grin smacked on his face, and you nearly pounce on him to feel his touch again. He soaks it in, for he knows this is all he’ll get until who knows when—and he can’t help but think about if you were really his. 

He flips you onto your back and trails open-mouthed kisses from your neck, to your collarbone, to your breasts, moaning when you tug on his hair. “Goody two shoes doesn’t touch you like this, does he?” He presses himself between your thighs, leaving you keening and arching your back into him. “That why you’re so sensitive, hm?” Biting at your neck, he doesn’t let up as he trails his fingers by the waistband of your shorts. “Come on, baby, answer me. When’s the last time he made you come?”

“Fuck you, JJ,” you hiss, despite how good he’s making you feel.

“Trust me, Peach, I’ll let you if you’re honest.” He casts you that stupid, terrible, charming smile and pecks a kiss against your lips.

You catch him off guard when you keep him there, encircling him with your arms and deepening the kiss, pressing your tongue against his and begging for more. Yet he keeps giving into you, letting you flip on top of him again as you slip your shorts down and let them land somewhere on the floor. You start tugging at his shorts but somewhere in your tipsy haze or lust-filled nerves you fail to manage the button.

He gives you a knowing look. “You need help down there?” Before you can snap back at him something vulgar—as if he, of all people, could criticize you for speaking that way—he takes his shorts off to match your attire, locking lips before you can move further. “I want to go down on you,” he says, holding your face in his palms much gentler than you’ve been handling him. 

“No time,” you explain between kisses, though the excuse holds no water. And you know you should let him—he knows what buttons to push, where to touch, the sensuality of it all—but there’s a blaring, nagging sound in the back of your mind telling you he cares more about this than you do. “I want it, JJ.”

“I know, baby, I want you, too—” he placates you with another kiss and pulls you to straddle him again after both of you slip the last of your clothes off, a collection of garments accumulated on the floor. “I don’t have—”

“I don’t care,” you interrupt, lining him up with your entrance and letting the pain mix with pleasure. 

“Fucking hell, Peach, are you trying to kill me?” He lets his head fall to the pillow, one hand covering his eyes in shock while the other keeps hold of your thigh. 

You keep your hands on his abs as your head rears back, drinking in the feeling of him inside of you, grinding down on him. “Could be. Problem?”

Stars in his eyes when he opens them. The curve of your waist. The plush of your thighs. The scratch of your nails down his stomach. The hum of your moans as you lean down, kissing him and swallowing his pleasure like you own him. The rush of adrenaline through his veins when you take his hands in yours and pin them above his head, using his body like you own it and the boy attached to it. Ask JJ yourself and he’ll tell you that you do.

He can barely breathe when you let up. “Not at all,” he huffs, voice hot and forehead sweaty. There’s a fatigued lull in your hips that lets him regain control over his body, tugging his lips into a smirk as he lifts himself up onto his elbows. “ ‘Specially if it means you’re this desperate for my dick.”

You scoff. “Not desperate, I just know what I want.” Someone who isn’t my boyfriend, you think, and the guilt pangs at your chest for a split second before you start to move your hips again, pleasure humming in your core. “And I want you to fuck me,” you almost whisper, “Please, Jay?”

Such a fucking minx. But he can’t resist. He gives you a once-over, and quicker than you can protest, he’s sitting fully upright, leaving wet kisses up your sternum as he grabs your waist and flips you on your hands and knees. He soaks in the sight in front of him—your ass splayed out for him all pretty, the curve from your rib cage to your hips too delectable not to touch—and slips a pillow beneath your stomach. 

His body hunched over yours, he grinds himself against you, sending you pushing back against him as you arch your back and drop your chest against the bed. His mouth hovers at your shoulder, and he takes hold of your jaw to keep you sober. “You said you want it?”

You don’t think you’ve ever been so needy for something in your life. “Yes, JJ—mmh—”

“How bad?” He’s merely playing with you now, too much power than he knows what to do with. He takes his dick and rubs it against you, nearly losing composure when his tip dips into you. “Come on, Peach, you can beg a little.” Though he’s the one who seems to be doing that for you. 

It’s a shame, how a lust like this can grow animosity on its tail. 

“Fuck you,” you spit back, and you don’t know whether you’re cursing him for being him or for being something you want when you shouldn’t. Maybe you’ve started to hate him for trying to love you all of a sudden; it conjures up a bitter taste in your mouth to consider it, how he only ever seems to want you when he knows he can’t have you. “I’m already cheating on my fucking boyfriend, at least do me a favor and make it worth my while.”

He lets go of your jaw in favor of pressing himself inside you again, groaning into your ear and leaving you keening. “You’ve got a mouth on you, I can tell you that.” Lifting himself back up, he grabs your hips and fucks into you, relishing in the feeling of you wrapped around him—at least physically. “Has he even fucked you yet? You’re so—shit—so tight—”

He waits for an answer that never comes out as anything more than heavy breaths and broken moans, and he’s satisfied, but not nearly enough. He slows down his movements, and for a second you think he’s starting to go easy on you. Rubbing your back with one hand, he pushes his hair out of his face with the other. “You all fucked out now, baby? Don’t tell me you can’t—” you bounce back against him, hard, just to spite him— “Mm, fuck—”

You giggle to yourself with your face leaning into the mattress because you already know this is how he is: he likes to talk big, but can’t back it up when it comes to you. You’re happy to let him ride out his pleasure a little longer—placate him, even—soaking up his touch and his groans and just feeling good for once.

JJ leans over you once more and licks the plane between your shoulder blades, and you moan at the chill in your spine when he breathes heavy against you. “Jay, I’m close.”

“I know, I can feel it, baby.” He sucks at your shoulder before looping his arm underneath you and holding your neck, pulling you with him as he shifts upright and pushes into you at a newer, deeper angle. You stumble out another moan and he smiles into your neck. “You like that?”

With one hand you reach up and behind and tug on JJ’s hair. His hands, one at your neck and one at your waist, are burning into your skin. “You feel so good—”

He leaves sloppy kisses on your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, and he’s almost convinced this feels too good to be true. He has you in his bed again, moaning his name, aching for him for what could be the last time. Yet what he can’t shake from his mind is the fact that you still aren’t his: he can’t kiss you just to kiss you, he can’t hold your hand like he sees you do with him, he can’t call this rendezvous anything but something to be forgotten about in the morning.

So when you start panting heavier, crying out his name a little more desperately, he makes sure to hold you tighter and kiss your lips that much harder. When you come undone around him, he drinks up your moans and keeps you grounded against him, letting you lay back down as he pulls out and moans into the open air, which he swears will smell like you for a month.

You lay limp in his bed and groan quietly at your sore muscles, letting your eyelid drift close. JJ rubs your back and kisses your shoulder blades, just barely there, as if he wasn’t just fucking you, moaning into your neck, cursing out confessions.

“Just stay there,” he whispers, and he’s hoping you’ll reply with something smart—Not like I can do anything else, comes to mind—but accepts your silence for the fact you’re too tired to bite back.

You hear the zip of his fly behind you, followed by the door opening and closing, then the faucet running. The bedsheets smell like JJ. When the door opens again, you open one eye to see him, only half-naked now, with a dampened rag which he uses to clean up your back. Your body is jello as he flips you off your stomach, and he smiles to himself as he watches you rub your eyes and yawn, your hair now a mess. He cleans you off for another minute, handling you as gently as he can physically manage, before shuffling through his drawers and emerging with a clean tee and a pair of shorts. He peels your back from the bed. “Up you go,” he mumbles as he helps you fight your arms through the fabric, even gentler so when he helps you into his shorts.

Your head goes hazy, and you think JJ’s left to sleep on the couch until the bed shuffles again.

“Wanna smoke?” he asks, a lighter and joint in his hands. From where, you’re not sure, though you’re not surprised. He situates himself in bed with his lips hugging the joint. You realize that you could describe how they taste from vivid memory again.

You resign yourself to your fate and lean into his chest. “Can’t say no to that, can I?”

The lighter flicks above your line of vision and you feel JJ’s deep inhale beneath you, lulling you further into exhaustion. You see the smoke that left his mouth. His hand moves toward your face and lifts the joint to your lips; you inhale from his fingers, wordlessly, and are pulled deeper and deeper into sleep with an exhale and JJ’s free hand rubbing your back. You see one last puff before your eyes finally close for the night, the warmth of his sun-kissed skin against your face.

JJ lets a few minutes pass after your breathing becomes slow and steady, joint glued to his mouth, before reaching ever so carefully to his nightstand and putting it out in the ashtray. The air is still too full of you for his liking, too much to forget. He lets his mind wander as it begins shutting down, kissing the top of your head as if it’ll keep you in bed long enough to see him wake. Closing his eyes, he knows that by morning, your clothes will be gone, the room will be that much cleaner, and you’ll no longer be his. He wonders whether being the one who waits has brought about any good after all, or if it has left him to cherish fleeting nights he’ll never see again.

[munsonhoneybaby]

my love!!! That final part 🥹 you are a STAR! so good. the way you write dialogue, your Eddie especially... he's so so so lovely to read. somehow you keep his edge but all the while he's the nicest fucking guy to ever walk the earth!!!

if one day you're feeling a blurb about them or something, I'd love to read the first meeting with Wayne - I think it could be so funny and sweet. and honestly I just need an endless stream of that version of Eddie and his sweet nothings and his fondness 🥺 obsessed with everything u do WOW

you’re so sweet !! i'm so happy you enjoyed, thank you so much for reading and sending in this ask !!

series masterlist

“Are you sure about this? I feel terrible taking up his day off with this, he should be enjoying his free time.” Frowning nervously, you picked at a string on your jeans. Though you’d been to their trailer three more times since the first, you’d yet to run into his uncle Wayne. It wasn’t necessarily intentional, but you didn’t particularly want to meet him the morning after sleeping at his home unannounced. So, after making a few passive comments to Eddie about wanting to meet him, you were pleased when Eddie told you Wayne wanted to have lunch with both of you. But now, the nerves were starting to settle in.

“He will enjoy this. He’s been dyin’ to meet you, baby, believe me. I already told you, he’s gonna love you.” Taking your hand over the console, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Besides, we’re just goin’ to lunch at the diner. It’s not a big deal.” Pulling into the open spot next to Wayne’s truck, he put the van in park and looked over at you. “Ready?”

You blew out a breath, “Yeah, I think so.”

As he always did, Eddie got out first and opened your door for you. When you went inside, he instantly spotted Wayne, standing from the booth to greet the two of you. “Hey, Wayne.”

“Hey, kid,” He replied, pulling him into a solid hug. With a subtle yet warm smile, Wayne said your name. You held out a hand to shake but instead were given a fatherly embrace much more careful than the one he’d given his nephew. “I’m glad I could finally meet the young lady makin’ this troublemaker so happy.”

“It’s great to meet you, too. I hope you didn’t have to cancel any big plans to make time for me today,” You jested politely.

He gave a quiet laugh in response and said, “Of course not. Sleepin’ on the couch in the living room ain’t more important than this.” The waitress came to take orders, service coming quick due to the few customers in the diner. “I hear you listen to the same kind’a music as Eddie,” Wayne chimed amiably. “You like his music, too?”

“Of course,” You smile, “I think he’s incredibly talented. I love seeing him perform.” The rockstar in question was embarrassedly hiding his flushed face in his hands.

“I’d come to his shows if I could, but I’m always at work,” Wayne expressed regretfully. “I hear him in his room all the time, but I’ve only seen ‘im on stage once or twice since that middle school talent show. I’m glad he’s got someone he cares about there to support him all the time now.”

The food came, saving Eddie from any further spotlight, and you did your best to continue making conversation between bites. “So, did Eddie get any of his music taste from you?”

“Oh, he’d never admit it, but he tolerates some old country music thanks to me. All that metal and rock stuff is good ‘n I like that he likes it, but it’s not really my speed.”

“I’ve gotta say, it’s a little hard picturing Eds listening to country music,” You chuckle.

“Just when I’m with him,” Eddie specified.

“I’m keeping him open-minded.” The waitress placed a single check on the table and Wayne was quick to open his wallet.

“No, please– let me,” You tried to stop him.

“I would never let a lady pay for a meal. This is my treat, darlin’.” It was becoming clearer and clearer how much of an influence your boyfriend’s uncle had had on his upbringing. Handing the cash and the bill to Eddie, he nodded toward the register. “Go take care’a this.” Eddie looked over at you, but you just smiled reassuringly, so he headed for the counter. Before you could start into another line of polite conversation, Wayne spoke. His voice was gruff, quiet. There was sentiment in his tone, though he tried to hide it. “I really am glad you and Eddie found each other. I’m sure you know by now that not many people in this town give ‘im a chance. I would never wanna embarrass the boy, but he hasn’t exactly introduced me to many girls in his life. I’m glad he’s found one that’s a little more like him– that understands him.”

After glancing back at Eddie, handing over the money for your meal with a kind smile, you gave Wayne a fond look. “He cares a lot about you too, you know. It means the world to him that you took over when his Dad went to jail. And I don’t know if it means anything coming from me, but I think you did an amazing job with him.”

You could’ve sworn you saw a tear well in his eye, but he looked away briefly before you could see for sure. It didn’t seem like people acknowledged his parenting effort often.“You’re a sweet young woman. You’re real good for him.”

“I appreciate that,” You responded honestly.

You both started to box up the leftover food and– just before Eddie came back to the table– Wayne added, “I’ll have to show you the few baby pictures I’ve still got around of ‘im,” making you chuckle.

Eyes narrowing slightly as he gave Wayne his change, Eddie asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” You answered playfully as you stood from the booth. His uncle did the same after leaving a generous tip for the kind pregnant woman who’d waited on you. The three of you headed for the parking lot, stopping briefly to say your goodbyes before you split up. “You’ll have to let me cook for you sometime,” You insisted. 

With another one of those barely-there smiles, Wayne clasped a hand over Eddie’s shoulder paternally. “You’ve got a good one here, boy, you’d better take good care’a her.”

Before he could respond, you assured him, “He does, Mr. Munson.”

“Oh, please, never call me that. It’s Wayne. It was nice meeting you. Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

“Of course, I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

Once you were back in the van with Eddie, he put the key in the ignition before pausing and looking over at you. “So, what did you two talk about while I was gone?”

“None of your business, nosy.”

Dramatically starting the van, he backed out of the parking spot as he replied, “Y’know what? Fine. Now I’m not gonna tell you about Jeff’s date with that chick from his calc class.”

“Hey, wait, c’mon–”

<3

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[foolforharrry]

Cactus Mug - Harry Styles Oneshot

Summary: After being away from each other for so long while Harry is on tour, y/n finally decides to go surprise Harry.

2.5k words

Any support is very appreciated. And if you have any requests feel free to send an ask, comment or a direct message

Also let me know if you guys want a part 2

Here's my masterlist if you want to check out more of my stuff

Harry has been on tour for months now. Waking up to a cold bed alone every day is something he’s made known he absolutely despises. As much as he loves performing in front of his fans every night, touring can get lonely. And some days are harder than others.

Today has been one of those days.

The first thing I did when I opened my eyes was to check my phone for a text message from Harry. 

And like almost every single morning, there it was. The notification bubble with his contact name in.

H: Missing you extra tonight. I can’t wait to finally kiss you and have you in my arms again. This house doesn’t really feel like a home without you. So I might have tried out that new recipe you sent me the other day. The mushroom risotto. Not sure where I went wrong, but it didn’t taste very good. So you’ll have to show me how to make it when you get here. Only one more week, yeah? Goodnight, my love.

Reading it, all I could think about was the disappointed frown he must’ve had on his face when he realised that he had messed up the food. Knowing him, he would have eaten as much of it as he could stomach.

It was then I decided to call my boss and ask her if there was any chance that I could work from home. I wasn’t 100% sure if she would grant it, but she must’ve heard the desperation in my voice and decided to show me mercy. 

Before Harry, I’d never seen myself as someone who would be able to be in a long-distance relationship. In the past when situations where a relationship would’ve become long distance, I was always the one to end it, not being able to stand being away from the person for that long.

But with Harry it was different. With him, it’s worth it.

That doesn’t mean I’m not counting down the days until we can be together again from the minute he leaves.

Which is why I didn’t think the flight through enough and ended up having to sprint through the airport to make it to my gate in order to not miss my flight, knowing I definitely forgot to pack something I’m going to need but it’s too late to worry about that now.

The second I’m squeezed between a teenage girl and a middle-aged man on the plane at 12:05 pm, I fish my phone out of my pocket again with hands shaky from excitement and nerves. Both over seeing Harry again and the sneaky element of flying to him without him knowing I am.

Me: Morning, Angel. I’ve got a really busy day at work today, so I’m sorry if I don’t get back to you before late. And of course, I’ll teach you how to make it (what would you do without me?). I love you higher than the sky xx

I’m hoping he won’t ask me any questions about what I’m going to be so busy with since I’m a horrible liar, especially under stress. 

My prayers are answered when his reply comes almost immediately. The text message attached to a photo of his sleep-puffed face with his eyes closed, pink lips puckered and his hair wild and curly from sleep.

H: Sending all my love and kisses to you baby. Good luck with your day. If you’re not too tired when you get home, we could facetime? I miss your voice so much.

Me: It’ll be nice to see your face again. I miss it.

H: If you miss it too much you can always just look at your lock screen, you know.

Me: Yes. This solves all of my problems! Bye now, my love.

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from smiling like a psychopath as I type out one last text message and attach a photo I know will hurt his ego a bit before I set my phone to flight mode.

There hasn’t gone a week since the photo was taken where I haven’t reminded him of its existence. If I can’t share it with anyone else, I’m gonna share it with him.

It was taken almost a year ago in the hotel room we were staying in. Harry had demanded that I take a photo of him with his new cactus mug. The mug was adorable and literally looked like a cactus. He had been posing by the sofa when he forgot that tea is hot. The sip of tea he’d just taken had been sent flying everywhere as well as all the tea that was still inside the mug. 

I thank the lucky stars every day for live photos.

While he had been panicking about burning his tongue, he had ended up dropping the mug to the floor. Something he says he’s still upset over.

So last week, when I saw a mug almost identical to the one he broke, I had to buy it for him. It’s safely tucked in my bag. My favourite hoodie of Harry’s is wrapped around it to keep it from breaking. Hopefully.

“You need to put your seatbelt on, miss.”

The polite voice snaps me out of my thought, turning my head to look at the flight attendant. It takes me a second to comprehend, what she says, but when I do I thank her quickly, offering her a small smile before fastening my seatbelt.

When I’m secured, I plug my wired AirPods in, and try my best to get comfortable for the six-hour flight ahead of me

-

I’ve never really been a fan of flying. 

The idea of being crammed in a metal box with a bunch of strangers high up in the clouds for a longer period of time just never appealed to me. Especially not with the occasional screaming baby.

But this might have been one of the least uncomfortable flights I’ve ever taken.

Sleeping for most of it might have a lot to do with it, but oh well.

I’m not gonna lie and say that it wasn’t a relief to finally exit the plane and stand in a building that doesn’t lift off the ground either.

However, that relief doesn’t even get close to the feeling when I finally lay eyes on my final destination.

When the driver finally stops the car, I’m quick to pay before I’m hauling myself and my bag out of the cab while thanking him over my shoulder. He drives off immediately, leaving me alone in front of the house I’m starting to think is empty.

The lights are all turned off and Harry’s car isn’t parked in its usual spot. He only ever parks it in the garage when he’s leaving LA.

A bit defeated, I take my keychain out of the outer pocket of my bag as I step up the few stairs leading to the front door. Finally, after fiddling with it for way too long, I find the right key.

Like I thought, the house is empty. There is no music playing anywhere. The TV is off and there is no sign of life as I drop my bag by the staircase. 

Still, just the faint smell of him feels like a warm, much-needed hug.

Not wanting to spoil the surprise, but also wanting to know what he’s up to, I get my phone out of my back pocket and dial Harry’s number on my way up the stairs to the second floor.

He picks up before I’ve reached the top.

“Hi, love.”, Harry’s voice has a smile forming on my face within seconds.

I stop in my tracks, willing my heart to slow down again half convinced he’s able to hear it through the phone from how hard it’s beating. Even after all this time, just hearing his voice makes my stomach fill with butterflies. “Hi, baby. I only have a second. But i wanted to hear your voice. what are you up to?”

That’s a good lie, right? 

“I’m on my way to the shop right now. I was craving grapes. Are you ok, though? You sound a little out of breath.” 

“I just ran up the stairs.” Not a complete lie. “But anyways. I have to go again.”

“Already?”, he asks, his voice sounding sad. 

“I’m sorry, my love.” I genuinely am. “But hey. We’ll see each other so soon, yeah? Can’t wait to see you.”

He hums, “One more week.”

After saying goodbye, I hang up, doing some quick calculations in my head that I do have time to shower the icky feeling of flying off me before he gets back home from the store if I’m fast.

Not wasting any time, I speed walk to our bedroom, making a beeline for Harry’s side of the closet so I can grab one of his hoodies. I settle on a pastel yellow one with a big kawaii drawing of a pug on the front before shuffling to grab a pair of grey sweatpants and some underwear from my own side of the closet.

Since I’m not entirely sure exactly how much time I have before Harry is going to be back home, I decide against music. I can’t let myself get carried away and take too long.

But before I strip out of my clothes and hop in the shower, I run downstairs, pull the cactus mug out of my bag and set it on top of the kitchen island next to the plain black one with a used tea bag that was already left there.

Just in case.

As much as I love our home in New York, it just hasn’t felt the same while he’s been away. The only mess in the apartment was made by me and me alone.

And I’m not gonna lie and say that I haven’t missed the way Harry always leaves a mess behind throughout the week. Whether that be a towel on the floor or a heap of clothes left slung over a chair. Or the way he would vow to get better at tidying up after himself every Sunday only to never follow through on it.

So seeing all the different products and stuff scattered all over the dark grey bathroom countertops brings me a sense of peace I didn’t know that I needed.

I make quick work of my shower, even turning the water off while washing my hair and body to force myself to be more efficient. But even with that, I wasn’t fast enough.

While in the process of pulling the soft hoodie over my head, my breath gets caught in my throat when I hear footsteps just outside the bathroom door.

They’re very quiet. Almost as if the person is trying to keep themselves from anyone hearing them. I wouldn’t even have caught them if it weren’t for the fact that I didn’t close the door all the way.

“Fuck.”, I curse, scrambling to loop my arms through the sleeves just as the door swings open fully to reveal a sight that has me torn between whether to laugh or cry from pure happiness.

Harry is holding a frying pan up in defence, clutching it with both hands as if his life depends on it. And I can’t decide whether he looks terrified or surprised.

I clear my throat, not even caring about the whole plan I had been ruined. “You just gonna stand there, Rapunzel?”

One second later and he’s dropped the frying pan, the sound of it clattering to the ground echoes around the bathroom. But I don’t get to even look at it for more than just a moment before I’m engulfed in one of the tightest hugs I’ve ever gotten.

Harry’s arms go around my waist, burying his face in my neck when I hug him back. I have to stand on my tippy toes to loop my arms around his neck, feeling my eyes start to well up with tears. It’s only now that I’m back in his arms, feeling his chest move with every breath he takes and the puffs of air fanning out over the soft skin of my neck with each exhale.

He’s so freaking warm too. Not just physically. But just the feel of being close enough to smell his cologne and the faint remnants of his body wash makes a warmth spread through my whole body. It’s like taking a sip of hot tea when you’re freezing cold. The heat slowly expanded from my heart to my fingertips.

It feels like home.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”, Harry mumbles, forcing a choked chuckle from me as I hug him tighter. “I can always go back to New York if you don’t want me here.”, I joke without meaning it one bit. You’d have to knock me out and drag me along the floor for me to leave.

Pulling back enough to look me in the eye, Harry takes my face in his hands, “If you even think about leaving me alone again, I’m going to follow you. And then when I’ve caught you. I’m gonna throw tomatoes at you.”

The more he speaks, the more he squishes my cheeks, making my words partly slurred which only makes it that much harder to keep a straight face. “What if I want you to throw tomatoes at me?”

He tilts his head to the side with a chuckle, dimples indenting his cheeks. His green eyes look like they’re sparkling from the way the light reflects in them and blush has painted his cheeks pink.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know.”, he breathes out with a laugh.

I run my fingers through his hair, getting distracted momentarily by how soft his curls are. “You still love me, right?”

Instead of answering me with words, Harry ducks down, pressing his lips against mine in a way that has me losing my breath as my eyelids fall shut.

The way he kisses me turns me into putty in his arms. Both from how gently his hands hold my face to how soft his lips are as he mumbles ‘I love you' against my lips between kisses until I’m giggling too much to kiss him back and he just starts peppering kisses all over my face.

I tug lightly on his hair to get pull his face back a bit when I hear a sniffle, frowning when I see his eyes watery with unshed tears. the tip of his nose is a bit red and his lips turned into a pout.

It’s when I ask him what’s wrong, a single tear starts rolling down his cheek quickly followed by another.

Harry blinks rapidly, looking up at the ceiling as he sniffles again but doesn’t tell me why he’s crying.

Wiping his tears away with my thumbs, I kiss his moist cheek tenderly, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Tell me what’s wrong, Angel.”

“I just missed you.”, Harry sniffles. “They’re happy tears though.”

“I missed you too.”, I admit. Whispering it to him as if I haven’t told him that I miss him every day we’ve been apart.

“Now really. How are you here, baby?”, Harry asks seriously, sliding his hands from my face down my neck. “I thought you couldn’t get away from work for another week.”

“Well.”, I start, already feeling my cheeks heat up, “Asking your boss very nicely with a drop of desperation seems to work wonders.”

Harry smirks, “Desperation huh?” Even his chest puffs in pride.

“I had to give you your belated birthday present.”, I explain to him, feeling giddy as I remember the genius purchase I made.

“My birthday is in February, love.”

I roll my eyes at him, grabbing his hand before dragging him with me. Careful to step over the pan he dropped.

“Where are we going?”, Harry asks. He still laces our fingers together, giving my hand a squeeze. It might as well have been my heart he had his hand wrapped around with the jump it made at the gesture.

“To get you your present.”

-

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #228

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

I awoke with a start from yet another of those dreams. Those dreams, unyielding, in which he is with me. I have always hated those dreams.

Whether I find myself in a diner, or a grocery store, or strolling about my home town, he is always there, whether overtly or lingering in the shadows, hiding beneath the mask of someone else. He relishes being an unwelcome guest in my subconscious, drawing me to his flying monkeys and wannabes.

Long since incapable of finding pure love, I lay alone in my bed, groggy, having slept the night before to the sounds of YouTube on autoplay. Perhaps the only white noise worse than silence. My eyelids are heavy with the burden of lost rest, never to be clawed back from the unmerciful crawl of time.

I force myself out of bed and peek through the curtains. Orange-tinted storm clouds fill the sky. It must be Halloween. I yawn and head for the kitchen to boil a kettle.

I pour my cup of tea when suddenly the doorbell rings. What time is it? I ask myself, to which I reply, time to get a watch. The microwave clock reads half-past four PM. I suppose I slept in.

I look through the peephole and don’t see anyone. I figure it might be neighborhood children playing a prank, but it could be a package I ordered and forgot about. I unlock the door and open it, but it takes a moment to register what I see: my father, in the flesh.

I rub my eyes. This can’t be happening, this can’t be real - but when I open them again he still stands before me. He’s not supposed to be here, not even in my dreams. I pinch my arm, I bite my tongue, but nothing seems to wake me up. I am already awake.

“Trick or treat!” He says, holding out his arms, waiting for a hug.

“How did you find this address?”

“It’s almost my birthday! Didn’t you want to see me?”

“No. You aren’t welcome here. Please leave.”

I close the door but he sticks his foot in it, the sole of his open-toed shoe only barely damping the hit. He doesn’t flinch.

He pushes the door back open and leans inside. “Do you know what it took to get here? I’m not going back.”

Part of me is afraid of what he’ll do if I let him in, but the other part is afraid of what he’ll do if I try to keep him out. That’s the part that wins the argument. I open the door again.

“I’ll make dinner.” He says, as he looks around inside, scoping out a place to turn into a nest. He sets his backpack down on the couch, and I can smell sulfur on it from all the way over here by the entrance.

“I just woke up, actually, so dinner seems premature.”

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll make pancakes for dinner. You’ll love them, I promise.”

This is an uncharacteristic sort of compromise from him, and I get to wondering if this really is my father. After all, I haven’t seen him in five years, and he seems to look exactly as I remember him. The thing is, I’m not sure I remember what he looked like last time I was in the same room with him. He almost looks more like he does in that photo I keep stashed away at the bottom of a drawer, the one we took when I was ten. He doesn’t act much like I thought he did, either, but I suppose I haven’t known him for some time. Maybe he changed?

We stopped talking for the obvious reasons (those are the ones I can tell people who ask): he didn’t support me going to college, or my transition, or any of my passions beyond making him happy. But there were also the less obvious reasons: The chill I felt down my spine when we were alone, a sense of unease to hear his voice, fear when he was even slightly angry. The little reminders of childhood that I’ve learned draw me to other people who end up hurting me. Battle-worn red flags of heritage.

My teenage memories are molded swiss cheese, incomplete and green with envy of the children who were allowed to grow up without a father like him. Whether their father was a good man or a dead man or both, they were better off. I knew even then that the most I had to look forward to was writing and delivering the eulogy.

And now here he was, a trespasser in my home, standing at the stove, burning vegetable oil onto my carbon steel pan. The fishy stench of it chokes my uvula. I want to vomit. He always told me he’d haunt me after he died and here he was, haunting me not only in my dreams but in waking life as a shambling zombie of a parent that never was.

Was… was he?

I ran to my computer and checked the local obituaries of my home town. I scrambled to find anything, anything from the past year, then the past two, desperately searching my brain at the same time to try to recall when it was that via text he threatened (no - ‘promised’) to keep his death a secret from my mother and I. Then I came across the name. There it was, the obituary.

He was presumed dead on his birthday four years ago. The body was never found. There was no service. Nobody would have come anyway. And something - be it a mischievous fae or a demon or the man himself - was piloting his decaying body to make a pancake dinner.

He pushed open the bedroom door and presented the plate. “I hope you like them. I made them with love.”

“I’m not hungry,” I replied, sick to my stomach at the mere suggestion of more of what he called love.

He looked at my monitor and the smile melted off his face. “I keep my promises.”

Please comment, reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed - I'd love to know what you think! Happy Halloween!

[niragisimp]

The Pain Before (Niragi x Reader) Part 12

Part 11, Series Masterlist, Part 13

(** Smut w/ “plot”)

Kuina tapped harder on the door, its inside echoing with the rhythm of her knuckles. She huffed in the empty hallway, biting the candy stick she had in her mouth. She stood listening to the silence before rolling her eyes, letting herself in, and closing the door behind her. 'If he gets upset, he would just be upset,' she thought. "I've been standing outside your door for close to five minutes--" She stopped before the bed as she looked on questioningly, staring at his back.

"Uh... Everything go alright last night?"

She began to fidget with the candy stick more as her question was met with more silence. She gave Chishiya another moment before pressing further, "Did everything... Not go alright last night?" She observed him as his head seemed to drop, his back hunched over. Kuina had seen many defeated people in the Borderlands, but never Chishiya. He would be the last person she would ever expect to be in this position at any given time. If something goes wrong, he always has another card up his sleeve.

"Hey, Chishiya..." She slowly walked alongside the bed and around, carefully sitting next to him. "Where's (Y/N)?" He shifted at the question, his eyes planted on the ground in front of him. "... I don't know." He stated bluntly. Kuina held back the urge to shake him senselessly as she tried to pull more out of him, "... What? What the hell happened Chishiya? Did you find out what you needed to?"

He stayed silent for a moment before slowly licking his lips, carefully contemplating his next words. He sighed and lifted his head, his eyes briefly looking over at Kuina, "Yeah. I did. Maybe more than what I wanted to." She gave him a curious look before looking down at her hands resting on her knees. "I don't feel great about my part in that... Getting a girl drunk and having someone drug her just... Gives me the ick."

Chishiya turned his head to look at her as she wiggled, his brow raised slightly. "You say that as if I'd take advantage of her."

Kuina sighed and stood, taking the candy stick out of her mouth for a moment to speak. "There's more than one way to take advantage of someone, you know. I'll be by the pool until game time." She didn't wait for a response before leaving his room, closing his door behind her. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, forcing the thoughts of you out of her mind. Her loyalty was with Chishiya, but she knew as well as he did, that she also wished to be loyal to you as well.

You opened your eyes to the sun already towering in the sky, your head throbbing at the sight. You grimaced at the light and turned your head down, opening your eyes to see Niragi laying peacefully under you. The heat rose to your cheeks quickly as you took in your positions. Both hands rested carefully on his bare chest, one of his arms wrapped around your waist, the other of his supporting his head under the pillow. The pain seemed to disappear without another thought as you unknowingly took in his sleeping face.

Niragi looked so peaceful, so at rest under you. You could feel your body slowly rise and fall with his chest, the sun highlighting his features so effortlessly. "Enjoying the view?" Your eyes snapped to his as he murmured, barely opening an eye to look up at you. Your words escaped as you studdered over them, your thoughts not forming correctly. It felt like you'd been caught as you felt your face flush.

You went to push yourself off him as he laughed, wrapping his hand tighter around your waist and holding you to him. "I... I should get back to my room, Niragi," He sighed heavily and closed his eyes again, "... No." You tried to hide your fluster even though he wasn't looking at you, "I still need breakfast, and to shower--" He silenced your protests rather quickly, meeting your lips with his own, his tongue forcing itself through. Your heart quickened as his hand wandered under your shirt, going up and down your back while drawing light circles on your skin.

Niragi reached up to cup the back of your neck with his other hand, pulling you down into him. You closed your eyes as his tongue swirled around yours, the cold metal gently gliding across the roof of your mouth briefly. Your mouth opened in a gasp as Niragi rose his knee in between your thighs, his hand that made gentle circles now moving downward to firmly grab your waist. His lips turned upward into a smile as he took in the soft moan that escaped you, pushing himself into you.

You let out a yelp in surprise as Niragi hurriedly flipped your body underneath him, his hand running along the outside of your thigh. Your body squirmed under his gaze, and you could see his prideful smile as he watched your reaction. He lowered himself down to your ear, carefully whispering to you, "You'll shower here... With me." He could see the embarrassment creep up, washing over you. Niragi smiled and let out a soft chuckle as he swept strands of your hair away from your neck, gently sucking the skin under your ear and slowly leaving trails down your neck.

He felt you squirm under him, your arms splaying down his back, ushering him closer. Niragi roughly dug his fingers into your skin, knowing for certain you would have bruises later from it. He couldn't help but let his pride show as his wet tongue ran along the side of your neck, lifting his face to press his forehead against yours. He lifted your leg and wrapped it around his waist, lowering himself to grind against you.

Niragi watched as your eyes fluttered against the sensation, your chest rising and falling heavily with your breath. He examined your face carefully, taking in every small involuntary motion you made. His lips came down to linger above yours, exchanging his breath with your own. You caught his eyes in yours as you felt your breath hitch in your throat, Niragi stopping suddenly. You looked at each other carefully, his eyes darting between yours, his tongue slowly wetting his lips.

He cupped the side of your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek in his hand. You leaned into the warmth, his fingers carefully massaging the back of your head as your hand overlapped his. Niragi dipped his head into your neck, his breath tickling your ear as he gently tugged on the lobe, stopping only to sink his teeth into your neck as his hips gently bucked, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Niragi could feel the irritation as his pants tightened, shoving his hand down to unzip his pants, kicking them off hurriedly as he repositioned himself between you. He stole a quick glance, checking for any sign of discomfort. He leaned in close for a moment, his voice low as he whispered, "... Do you want this?" You could feel your cheeks flush as you slowly nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

He stared at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment. "Say it."

"I... I want this, Niragi." You watched as he grinned, quickly pushing his lips into yours hungrily, breaking to travel down your neck, dipping his tongue into your collarbone as your soft breath turned into music to his ears. Niragi couldn't help but smirk as your back arched slightly, reacting to his touch. His hands began wandering down your side as you grasped his bare shoulders, feeling your eyes roll back as Niragi's hips thrust into you. His hand grabbed and dug into your thigh as it explored upward, his fingers pulling at the bikini strap that covered you.

You gasped at another sudden thrust, your eyes meeting Niragi's as he grinned at your reaction. The metal tongue piercing gleamed off the sunlight illuminating the room as he ran his tongue over his teeth. You felt a shiver run down you as he lowered his head into your neck, sucking the skin forcefully, his body weighing on top of you as his hips bucked in rhythm. Your leg pulled him in closer, making him shoot you a surprised look.

Niragi watched you carefully as he untied your bikini, making quick work of your top as well. He leaned back for a moment and stared at you, moving his shirt that still covered you to the side as his hands wandered, gripping your thigh around him tightly. He leaned in, running a hand through his hair quickly to push it back as his lips crashed into you, his tongue swirling around yours. You pushed yourself up against him as your hand wandered down to his briefs, sinking your hand into them.

You heard him groan into your mouth as you stroked his erection, his tongue becoming more forceful. Niragi hurriedly pushed his briefs down and broke away from you, frantically throwing them to the side. He could feel his heart speed up at your touch, grabbing your wrist and pinning it above your head. His free hand reached down to your core, his fingers gently gliding across your entrance. Your body jolted suddenly as two fingers entered you quickly with ease, a moan escaping your throat.

Niragi caught your gaze with his, a grin on his face as he teased you, "Fuck... You're so wet..." He chuckled lowly, planting light kisses across your jawline. Your non-restrained hand grabbed onto his onyx hair, giving it a light tug as his fingers began pumping into you slowly. Niragi savored the sounds emanating from you, taking in every soft whimper you released as his fingers curled into you rhythmically.

"Ni-Niragi..." He looked up as you murmured his name, relishing the way his name spilled from your lips. His rhythm slowly increased as he watched your face carefully, observing every time your breath hitched. He placed his thumb gently on your clit, rubbing small circles as he felt your pulse on his fingertips. Feeling you tense he released your wrist, cupping your cheek in his hand as he pulled his fingers from you, positioning his member at your entrance, taking in the warmth coming from your core. He leaned into you slowly, gently guiding his tip further in carefully as his lips eagerly brushed against yours, releasing a moan into your mouth as he felt himself disappear into you.

The sound you made at that moment drove him near crazy. He clenched the sheets as he sunk himself into you completely, his mind going blank as he inhaled sharply at the feel of you surrounding him. You could feel yourself adjusting around him as he began pacing himself, grabbing his shoulder to steady your body as his pace quickened. He brought his head down to your shoulder to sink his teeth into your skin, making sure to leave an obvious mark for all to see.

Niragi groaned in your ear as he heard your soft moans, trying to stop himself from getting too rough. "Ni-Niragi," you studdered over your own words as you tried to speak, "Th-that feels so... So good," your voice shook as his hips snapped into you, unable to contain his want any longer. Your fingers dug into his shoulder roughly, trying to hold yourself still. His hand grabbed onto your thigh, pressing it against him as his hips bucked.

"Oh, fuck..." He muttered into your ear, his voice low. "You're so fucking perfect (Y/N)," his breath on your ear sent a shiver down your entire body, your insides clenching around him as he thrust himself into you. Niragi pulled back for just a moment, his hips continuing their rhythm as his eyes took in the sight before him.

"I could've had this before," his mind taunted him. His hand wandered down to play with you once more, making light circles on your clit, watching as your back arched in response. Niragi watched as you moaned quietly, your eyes starting to glaze over. He gripped your thigh and lifted it onto his shoulder, planting light kisses up and down your leg as he pumped into you.

Leaning down, he could feel himself starting to lose his rhythm as he met with your lips, his moans melting with your own. You grabbed onto his hair, gently tugging as you felt your abdomen pool with heat. Your name echoed from his lips as he snapped into you roughly, soft grunts releasing into your mouth.

Niragi grabbed hold of the hand in his hair, pinning it above your head as his other tightened on your thigh, his hips sloppily thrusting into you roughly. His eyes wandered in search of yours as you stared into the ceiling above you, the walls growing darker as you could feel yourself falling into your release. He felt your body clench under him as his pace increased, slamming his lips into yours, breaking only to mutter curses mixed with moans into your mouth.

Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulder as you felt yourself come undone beneath him, the fire building finally being released through your body. Niragi watched as your face relaxed, admiring the way your mouth moved when you cried out his name, knowing he was the one that made you like this. His hips slammed into you as he felt himself about to reach his own peak, your soft breaths quickly pushing him over the edge.

His head rolled as he grunted in your ear, "Oh fuck, (Y/N)..." Your legs shook at the continued movement, your vision slowly returning to you. Your eyes wandered up to Niragi above you, his bare chest now slick with a thin layer of sweat. His hips jerked into you roughly as he cursed, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he groaned, feeling himself burst into you, leaving his final mark.

Your breaths mingled together in the silence, filling the room. Niragi released your wrist, his head leaning to rest on your chest. Your hand stroked his hair, gently weaving in between the strands as his back rose and fell with his breath. He looked up at you slowly, grasping your chin and tilting it down to look at him.

"(Y/N)..."

"Y-yeah, Niragi?"

He stared silently for a moment, licking his lips carefully. His voice was soft and gentle, the opposite of his words. "You're mine. And only mine. Nobody is ever gonna lay a hand on you again... I'll make sure of it."

You swallowed a lump in your throat, unable to look away from his gaze. The words felt more like a threat than a promise, you thought. Seemingly noticing your unease, he lifted himself up off you and cupped your cheek, kissing you roughly. As he pulled back, his thumb ran over your swollen lips, his eyes tracing their outline. Releasing a slight groan as he pulled out of you, Niragi grabbed his briefs, pulled them on, and made his way for the bathroom.

You sat up on the bed, your eyes searching for your top that was discarded earlier. Clothing yourself, you buttoned up Niragi's shirt that still adorned your shoulders. You jumped as you felt a pair of hands wrap around you, quickly realizing who it was when he chuckled.

"Did I scare you?"

Even though you couldn't see Niragi, you could hear his grin. "I didn't hear you..." You felt instant relief as he pulled you into his chest, the warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt. His scent overtook your senses as you leaned your head back into his neck, his hands creeping under your shirt to rest on your bare skin.

You closed your eyes as you felt his lips against your neck, planting gentle kisses on every spot he marked, almost acting as a physical apology. "I hope it didn't hurt too much," he chuckled. You hummed at his words, trying not to become embarrassed. "I-it was... Good... I liked it," you pursed your lips together, hoping he couldn't see your cheeks flush. You could hear his breath in your ear as he whispered, "Gotta let everyone know who you belong to."

Chishiya tried not to pace in the lobby, his hands firmly in his pockets. He was certain his physical demeanor was on point; cold and distant, unapproachable by most. But mentally, his mind was driving him crazy. He wasn't used to this feeling, whatever it was. He had studied medicine for years and could handle nearly any physical diagnosis. But mental? It was still quite a mystery to him, much to his displeasure. Kuina stood near him, not making eye contact. He could tell she was still upset, another thing that irked him at this particular moment.

Chishiya withheld himself from looking over when he felt eyes piercing into his back, knowing full well who those eyes belonged to. "Niragi," he thought. His mind was overcome with memories of the night prior, his mind finally putting two and two together as he placed this overwhelming feeling, guilt, is what most would call it.

His breath hitched as he heard your voice from behind him, his eyes just barely wandering over to Kuina nearly lunging toward you. He hid his concern as he took notice of the marks and bruises covering your neck and legs. Kuina blocked his sight of you, or perhaps she was blocking your sight of him. He didn't care for it either way.

"Are you alright? What happened? Did..." Kuina's voice grew quiet, though not quite enough for Chishiya not to hear. "Did Niragi do this to you?" He felt his heart skip a beat as he turned his full attention to them, his breath held in his throat, unable to come out. As you opened your mouth to speak, the crowd erupted as Hatter took his place on the balcony. All eyes were on their leader, all eyes except for one.

"The games are upon us again!" Hatter started his speech as normal. Chishiya's eyes wandered over your body worriedly, his final thought from yesterday playing over and over again in his mind, this time accompanied by an afterthought.

"Shit, shit, shit...  This is all my fault."

Chishiya looked to the balcony, trying to maintain his composure. His eyes stopped on Niragi, smugly looking down at him from above. He felt his fingernails dig into his palms as the two held gazes. Niragi's eyes said one thing, "I won."

[randomstufs-world]

Hands Off

Just a random piece I threw together after seeing this video 😝

Explicit content 18+

Lewis always prided himself as someone who could keep his emotions in check no matter the situation. Through years in f1 he’s gotten good at keeping his composure and not reacting to the people trying to provoke him. Even now as Lewis was standing in the Mercedes garage he was keeping his cool as he watched his wife Maya chatting with all the special guests.

Maya always drew attention and crowds with her beauty, fame, witty remarks and her radiating kindness. Right from the beginning Maya made her mark as one of the most loved wags in all of f1. Maya always stayed real with the fans, showing her humility and grace over the years. Maya loved coming to race weekends not only to support her husband but to also network and have fun. That’s how she found herself chatting with Neymar before the start of the Monaco gp. Maya met Neymar a few times since him and Lewis had a lot of mutuals in the same social circle. As a soccer fan Maya had always loved watching the Brazilian footballer so when she first met him she fangirled a bit.

‘Hello beautiful it’s nice to see you again’ Neymar said as he leaned in for a quick kiss on Maya’s cheek

‘Neymar it’s nice to see you again, are you here with Mercedes or a different team?’ Maya asked

‘I’m here with Ferrari, I couldn’t get passes this time for Mercedes. I’ve never had issues in the past but apparently this year they ran out or something’

‘Hmmm that’s weird, did you ask Lewis about it? I’m sure he could help you out? Do you want me to see if I can get you passes?’

What Maya didn’t know was that Lewis secretly despised Neymar. Especially after last year when he overheard Neymar talking with his buddies about Mayas big tits and round ass and how he’d love to just have one night with her to do as he pleases. Lewis had never been so angry in his life. It took everything Lewis had in him to not punch his face. Since then Lewis has made it his mission to keep Neymar away from his woman. He thought blocking him from Mercedes would be enough but as he watched Neymar chatting up his wife he knew he would need to handle things himself. Lewis trusted Maya through and through but he definitely didn’t trust Neymar.

‘It’s okay sweetie, I’m already with Ferrari plus at least I get to see and chat with you now’ Neymar said

‘okay well maybe the next race you come to I can help make sure you get passes’

‘You’re sweet’ Neymar said while smirking. ‘Do you wanna go grab a bite to eat while we wait until the race starts?’

Maya knew that Lewis was always busy before the race so she figured she’d have enough time to grab food and then head back to the garage for the race ‘sure why not I’m kinda hungry’ Maya responded

Neymar gently put his hand on Maya’s lower back to guide her to the food. As his hand started wandering a bit lower he felt a strong almost painful grasp around his wrist

‘Hand off now’ Lewis’s commanding voice unmistakable

‘Dude chill I’m just helping Maya get some food’

‘She doesn’t need your help’ Lewis said as he stared Neymar down. ‘come on babe we can get you some food from the Mercedes hospitality’

Maya had never seen Lewis act like this before, he wasn’t much of the jealous type. Often times it was Maya who was the jealous one.

‘Babe it’s okay we are just going to quickly grab food and then I’ll be back in time to watch you race’

‘Ya no you’re not going to eat with him. I’ll explain later after the race. Now let’s go get you food’

Maya was about to fight it cause she did enjoy chatting football with Neymar but she saw and heard how her husband was acting and knew that this was not one of the times to push back. It would definitely be a discussion for later though because in her eyes Lewis had no right to be so controlling

‘Hmmmm okay I guess. Bye Neymar I’ll see you later at the party!’ Maya said as Lewis started to guide her back to the garage. Lewis remained quiet as he led Maya to the Mercedes hospitality.

‘Babe what was that about, Neymar and I were just chatting’

‘I’ll explain later, can you just trust me on this one please and not try to push it?’

‘Hmmm okay but you better explain later or I’ll beat your ass for acting like a caveman’

‘Yes my love’ Lewis said as he leaned in for a sweet kiss

‘Good luck in the race, kick some ass and remember you’re the GOAT’ Maya said as she hugged her man tight and gave him another kiss for good measure

~after the race back at their Monaco home~

After an exciting Monaco gp with Lewis finishing on the podium both Maya and Lewis were in good spirits as they got dressed for the big after race party.

‘Sooooo babe are you gonna tell me why you went all protective hubby mode earlier when you dragged me away from Neymar?’

‘Ya he was touching you, I didn’t like that’

‘But why we’ve known each other for years and have always been friends! It was just innocent babe. No need to be jealous’

‘I’m not jealous I was just being protective of you. I’m your husband and I won’t ever let anybody disrespect you’

‘Lewis Neymar didn’t disrespect me though’

‘Yes he did! Look I didn’t want to say anything since I know you’re such a big fan but last year after the race at the party as I was heading back from the bathroom I heard Neymar chatting with his buddies. They were talking about you. I heard Neymar talking about your tits and your ass and how he dreamed of fucking you and making you his woman. I almost punched him’

Maya was stunned by what Lewis was telling her. She hated when men talked about her like that and she hated that she had trusted Neymar and had thought that he was being a good friend

‘I’m sorry my love. I know you’ve always been friends with Neymar but I just don’t trust the dude nor will I allow him to disrespect you like that. You’re my wife and I will not allow anyone to talk about you in such a crass manner’ Lewis hugged Maya tight reminding her how much he loved her

‘Well I guess it’s a good thing then that I have a strong sexy intimidating powerful man to keep me safe’ Maya said with a smirk and flirtatious wink

‘You bet. Don’t forget you’re mine and only mine for life’

‘All yours? Why don’t you remind me of what it means to be yours’

‘Baby girl if we start we’re not making it to the party’

‘I don’t care about the party, I want my sexy husband to own me and remind be that I’m his. So sir why don’t you mark your territory. Make sure everyone, especially Neymar knows I’m yours’

‘This is what’s gonna happen. We will go down to the party. We will mingle for a little bit and then I’ll drag your ass back to our bed and fuck you until you’re full of my cum. How does that sound?’

Maya squeezed her legs together trying to give herself some relief as she got turned on by the thought of getting dicked down by her husband. Lewis was an amazing lover and when he was in a spicy mood like tonight he always delivered something special

‘Babeeee I want you now though! I want you so bad’

‘Ya well you’re gonna have to wait. Let’s go baby’

They made their way over to their private elevator and just as Maya was about to press the button Lewis pinned her up against the wall. Lewis pressed his body against hers as he kissed her hard. Maya was so distracted that she didn’t notice Lewis’s hand sneaking underneath her dress. Maya gasped as Lewis pressed his fingers over her panty clad clit that was already so sensitive.

‘Baby girl you’re already so wet’

‘Babe please don’t tease me’ Maya panted as she tried to catch her breath from the kiss and from being so turned on

‘ I just want a quick taste’ Lewis said as he slipped two of his finger into her panties and right into her dripping wet hole. Maya moaned so loud as Lewis’s thick fingers stretched her pussy and got so deep with just one thrust. Maya tried to grind her hips down but Lewis pulled his hand back and held it between their faces making sure Maya saw how drenched his fingers were. Lewis locked eyes with Maya as he licked his fingers clean one by one. Maya blushed so hard as she watched her husband suck his fingers clean.

‘Perfect that should be enough for me until we get back and I have the time to lay between your legs and eat you out until you soak my beard’ Maya could only moan in response and close her eyes thinking about all the times Lewis has eaten her out to the point where she can barely feel her legs let alone form a coherent sentence.

‘Let’s go babe, time for me to show off my wife and remind people that you’re all mine 😙’

[swan-of-sunrise]

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (Part II)

Summary: In the wake of the announcement that John Walker would be the new Captain America, (Y/N) lends a patient ear to both Sam and Bucky, and an open-minded Steve gets an important and well-meaning lesson on modern forms of discrimination.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Disclaimer for a frank discussion of racism/bigotry

A/N: Writing more Sam and Bucky and their constant squabbling was so much fun, and it really did wonders counteracting how sad it was writing Steve’s emotions about Walker becoming Cap lol thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (Part II) May 2024 Rockport, Maine (Previous Chapter)

Two weeks later, (Y/N) was sitting alone on her wraparound porch and fiddling with Natasha’s old red hourglass-shaped belt buckle, her lost friend’s treasured memento unable to give her its usual sense of comfort as she listened to Sam talk. He’d filtered through a wide range of emotions in the days since Captain John F. Walker had been named the new Captain America – shock, anger, sadness, outrage – before finally settling on heartbreak. Seeing a white man with the same blonde hair, blue eyes and chiseled physique that the country had come to expect in their Star-Spangled-Man-With-A-Plan did nothing short of break Sam’s heart and – although she was nowhere near a trained psychologist – she suspected that it only served to validate his intrusive imposter syndrome. She’d made it a point to call and check in on him every day since, and she was happy that her best friend hadn’t shut her out; just as he’d been there for her during so many difficult times in the past, she was giving him the strength and support that they both knew he needed.

“I decided not to watch that GMA interview that aired this morning,” Sam sighed over the phone. “I mean, why put myself through all that?”

“Believe me, you didn’t miss anything you couldn’t just find out with a quick Google search. The guy’s like a walking slice of plain white bread.” (Y/N) smiled to herself as her best friend snorted in amusement at her joke. “Scott was blowing up my phone throughout the entire thing; Walker had better watch himself, because he’s only been on the job for two weeks and he’s already got Ant-Man pissed off at him.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tic-Tac angry before and now I kinda don’t want to; all the shrinking and growing still freaks me out a little, and I haven’t forgotten how that little shit deactivated my wings like it was nothin’.” Their laughter faded away into a heavy silence that was eventually broken by Sam. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

She frowned in confusion. “For what?”

“For not trying to convince me to talk to Steve about all this. I love the guy, I really do, but with all this that’s happened…it’s somethin’ that he can never really understand. Maybe he will someday, but it’s not up to either of us if he does or doesn’t.” Biting her lip, (Y/N) struggled to think of how best to respond to his statements but he continued on before she could say anything. “So, how’s everyone doing today? Enjoying the warm weather up there?”

“Well, Steve took Carina and Indy for a walk after the GMA interview, so it’s just me holding down the fort; I tried working a little on the first draft of my book but I couldn’t get Walker’s annoying mug out of my mind, so I decided to sit out here and give my best friend a call. What about you? How’s your search for these Flag Smashers going?”

A few days after the new Captain America was announced, Sam told her about the emergence of an anti-nationalist group that aspired to return Earth’s governments and society to how it was after the Snap and before the Battle of Earth: a united world without borders or patriotism that cared about helping each other in times of need. As someone who lived through those turbulent five years and who didn’t necessarily agree with everything the Global Repatriation Council was doing, their initial mission statement sounded appealing to (Y/N); however, their methods were violent and destructive and most concerning of all, they were comprised of suspected super-soldiers and possessed a replica of Doctor Erskine’s serum. An Air Force friend of Sam’s had a close call with the group in Switzerland and for the past two weeks, they’d both been tracking their whereabouts to try and apprehend them.

“Pretty good, actually. Torres managed to track them to Munich and Redwing picked up some aerial footage of their suspected base just outside of the city, so we’re flying out of D.C. at oh-nine-hundred.”

“In that case, I should probably let you go so you don’t miss your flight…” (Y/N) twisted the belt buckle around and around in her grasp and tried not to think about the last friend she’d said goodbye to before an important mission. “Good luck out there, Birdbrain.”

Sam chuckled and replied, “Thanks, Booksmart. I’ll give you a call as soon as I can, okay?”

They both said their goodbyes and after hanging up, (Y/N) sat back in her rocking chair and held her belt buckle to her chest as she closed her eyes. “Keep an eye on him for me, Nat.” Her eyes flew open when her phone rang again and she scrambled to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hey, doll, it’s Bucky. Where the hell is Sam?”

(Y/N)’s shoulders sagged in sudden realization. “Oh, shit. I take it that you watched the GMA interview…”

“Yeah, I did, and it’s about time that he and I discussed how he just threw away that shield.” The super-soldier’s voice was filled with ire and she could hear his agitated pacing in the background. “I’m at your guys’ old place in D.C. but he’s not here, so I thought you might know where he’s at.”

“Bucky, none of this is going to change what’s happened-”

“Do you know how much it hurt to hear a total stranger sit there with that shield and call himself a brother to Steve? Do you have any idea how it feels to have Steve’s legacy tarnished by a guy who would’ve gladly kicked his pre-serum ass if we were back in the 40’s?”

Clenching her jaw in growing irritation, (Y/N) stood and started pacing across the porch. “Believe it or not, Bucky, I do. You think I didn’t try everything I could to get answers for what they did? It took threatening to go to the press for Senator Smith’s office to return my calls and when they finally did, I got an incredibly condescending explanation about what constitutes as government property. If I went any further than that, then I’d risk my family’s safety and privacy, so now I’m forced to sit by and watch a man who I know isn’t worthy of the shield parade around as Captain America while all those asshats on Capitol Hill congratulate themselves for preserving the so-called sanctity of a mantle that they’ve never understood.”

She could hear Bucky sigh. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to accuse you of not caring or anything. It’s just…that shield, Steve’s legacy…it means a lot to me. And to see Sam just throw it all away for no reason…”

“You want answers? Sam’s scheduled to fly out of Joint Base Andrews at 9 o’clock for an overseas mission, so if you want to talk to him then you’d better make it quick.”

“Thanks, (Y/N). I owe you one.”

“It’s no problem, but can you do me a favor and actually listen to what Sam has to say? He’s really been beating himself up over what’s happened, and you coming in hot with angry accusations isn’t going to make him or you feel better.”

“…Okay, okay, I’ll try. For you.” Bucky’s pacing slowed and she could tell he was weighing his words. “How’s Steve handling all this?”

(Y/N) leaned a hip against the porch railing and looked out at the gentle waves in the distance. “When I figure that out, I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I should probably let you go now; by the time I drive across D.C. and talk my way past the MP’s, it’ll be time for Sam’s flight to take off. I’ll call you soon, doll. Give Carina a kiss for me, okay?”

After they exchanged their goodbyes and she tucked her cell phone back into her pocket, (Y/N) looked down at the belt buckle in her hand and gave it a small smile. “Could you keep an eye on Bucky too while you’re at it, Nat? Something tells me that Sam won’t be traveling to Munich alone…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dinner was delicious, sunshine,” Steve commented later that evening as they cleaned up the kitchen together; there was a mischievous twinkle in his azure eyes when he spared her a brief glance and continued drying the dishes she’d finished washing. “You know, you’ve come a long way from only knowing how to make spaghetti, tacos and scrambled eggs.”

Narrowing her eyes, (Y/N) playfully flicked some soapy dishwater at her chuckling husband. “This coming from the guy who used to boil all his food and who never touched hot sauce until he was ninety-seven.” They finished washing and drying the dishes in comfortable silence, and it wasn’t until after they checked on Carina fast asleep in her crib and made their way back out to the living room that she decided to bring up the subject of the new Captain America. “Sweetheart, if I ask you a question will you promise to give me an honest answer?”

Steve’s brow arched but he nodded all the same. “Of course. What is it?”

“What was going through your head when you saw the announcement naming John Walker as the new Captain America?”

They sat down on the couch and Steve’s hand automatically found hers, his thin fingers intertwining with hers as he considered her pointed question. “Honestly? For a split second there, I thought that I was seeing a ghost on the television screen.” (Y/N)’s brow furrowed in confusion and he continued. “When I was accepted into Project Rebirth and sent to Camp Lehigh, I joined an entire regiment of potential candidates and over the course of a week, we were ordered to complete training that would determine which one of us would be chosen as the SSR’s first test subject. Doctor Erskine made it pretty clear from the beginning that he wanted me, but Colonel Phillips was gunning for a guy named Gilmore Hodge.” He huffed out a quiet chuckle. “Talk about a horse’s ass. Hodge was a bully; he fought with the other guys in the barracks, he cheated during training to get higher scores and he hated that a woman was the one personally overseeing our training.”

“Wait a sec, was he the soldier that Peggy told me about once, the one she knocked onto his ass with just one punch?” Steve nodded and (Y/N) grinned appreciatively. “Peggy Carter was such a bad-ass. So, Walker reminds you of Hodge?”

“Mm-hmm, right down to the blonde hair and blue eyes. Everything I’d read or heard about him since paints him as the perfect soldier, and it was all summed up in that GMA interview this morning.” Steve bit his bottom and looked over at the wall beside their small piano. He’d spent their first month in Maine framing and hanging some of the sketches he’d completed over the years; scenes of his childhood in Brooklyn featuring his mother Sarah and Bucky, portraits of his fellow Howling Commandos and everyone he’d worked with at the SSR, doodles of the laid-back days spent with the Avengers and more drawings of (Y/N) throughout the years than she could count. Doctor Abraham Erskine’s portrait hung proudly towards the center of the wall, a place of honor for the man who changed Steve’s life in more ways than one, and Steve’s eyes softened a little as he continued. “Doctor Erskine came to the barracks to see me on the night before the scheduled procedure. He told me about the time Schmidt took an unfinished dose of the serum and how he became the Red Skull, but then he said something I don’t think I’ll ever forget: ‘The serum amplifies everything that’s inside, so good becomes great and bad becomes worse.’” His azure eyes flicked back over to (Y/N) while the corner of his mouth lifted into a humorless smile. “The second thought that ran through my head after seeing that broadcast was ‘Thank God that they didn’t get their hands on Erskine’s serum too.’”

Sensing his pensive mood, (Y/N) draped her legs over his lap so she could cuddle up against him and rested her head on his shoulder. “The government did what the government does best: purposefully overlooked the accomplishments of a Black man in favor of maintaining the status quo. It’s a tale older than America itself.”

“But…” Steve’s voice was filled with an uncertainty that she’d come to associate with him being a man out of time. “Sam was the one who decided to give the shield to the Smithsonian. Unless…did he mention if someone contacted him and convinced him to hand it over?”

“No, no one convinced him. Sam doesn’t talk about it much, but he suffers from something called imposter syndrome; it’s when you believe that you’re less capable than those around you, that any success you’ve had in your life is only the result of luck and that at the end of the day, you’ll be outed as a fraudster. Many, many people of all walks of life struggle with imposter syndrome but it particularly affects the BAME – Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic – community.”

The thumb that had been caressing her knee slowed as Steve carefully asked, “So, when Sam said that he felt like the shield belonged to someone else, what he really meant was that it belonged to someone who looked like me?”

(Y/N) nodded. “To you, you were only passing along a superhero name and a vibranium shield to the person you believed was meant to have them but to Sam, he was faced with accepting a mantle that reminded him of the atrocities of our country’s history and a future where he’d be the first and only Black man ever named Captain America. It’s a heavy burden to bear and in the end, Sam chose to put his well-being first.”

“I didn’t think that…I-I should’ve known…”

Sitting up, (Y/N) cupped Steve’s face and gently coaxed him to look at her, her heart breaking a little as she looked into his distraught eyes. “Sweetheart, none of this is your fault. You only did what you thought was right, and there’s no way that you could’ve known any of this on your own. Sam doesn’t blame you, so you shouldn’t go and start blaming yourself.” She gave him a sad sort of smile. “If only there were more people like you and Sam in the world…I guess I should count myself lucky that I have the both of you in my life.”

Her husband’s expression softened and he shook his head. “Nah, we’re definitely the lucky ones, baby.” His thumb and forefinger lightly grasped her chin and held her steady as he leaned forward to capture her lips in a loving kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, (Y/N) spent the morning and much of the afternoon on a conference call with Greg and the editors going over the first draft of Assemble: The Unabridged History of the Avengers and while a freshly-inspired Steve worked into the evening on the cover art, (Y/N) set up Carina’s playpen in the garage and kept an eye on her daughter while she worked up a sweat with their suspended punching bag. Her time with the punching bag was when she allowed herself to reflect on the nightmares she experienced as a result of her PTSD; they were usually memories of all the losses she’d suffered at the hands of Thanos, playing over and over on a constant loop in her mind, but exercising helped her acknowledge and slowly push through them.

While she was taking a quick water break and checking Carina for signs of sleepiness, her cell phone began to play the tell-tale tune of Sam’s ringtone. “You hear that, Cari? Uncle Sam’s calling!” The infant clapped her little hands together and (Y/N) grinned as she reached for her phone, but she arched a brow in surprise when she saw that it was actually a FaceTime request; with a shrug, (Y/N) answered and was met with the sight of Sam’s withdrawn face. “Sam? What’s wrong, Sam?”

“It’s probably easier to tell you what isn’t wrong,” Her best friend sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bucky and I went to Munich yesterday and got our asses handed to us by eight super-soldiers, he took me to Baltimore to meet an old man named Isiah Bradley and I got to learn that the Army once experimented on Black soldiers while trying to replicate the serum, Bucky got himself arrested because he missed a therapy session, and I was forced into an uncomfortable couple’s counseling session with Mr. Stares-A-Lot himself.”

“Wow, that was…a lot.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting your workout, (Y/N), but after the day I’ve had, I just really needed to see a friendly face.” Sam’s expression relaxed when he caught sight of Carina playing with her stuffed white wolf. “Two friendly faces, actually. How you doin’, cutie-pie?”

“Say ‘hi’ to Uncle Sam, lemon drop.” (Y/N) helped the infant wave her chubby hand at the screen and grinned when her best friend chuckled. “Hey, that got you to smile! Did you want to talk about it?”

Sam shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m too tired to go through it all again.”

Before (Y/N) could reply, Bucky appeared from behind Sam and gave her a half-wave. “Nice to see you again, doll. Is Samuel here tellin’ you all about my time in the slammer?”

“Bucky, are you all right?” She ignored the glares that both men were shooting one another and waved her hand in front of the camera to grab their attention. “Hey, if you guys stop doing that weird macho shit, you’ll realize I asked you a question.” Carina let out a particularly loud coo and (Y/N) glanced over at her with an apologetic smile. “Yes, Cari, that was a bad word that Mommy shouldn’t have said, but your uncles are driving Mommy insane right now.” She looked back at the screen and raised a pointed brow. “How are you feeling, Bucky?”

“Well, I feel better,” Sam interrupted as they walked out onto a sidewalk.

Bucky sighed in annoyance. “I feel awful, (Y/N), but thanks for asking.”

A police car’s siren blared through the phone’s speaker, ending as soon as it began but replaced with a familiar boastful voice. “Gentlemen! Good to see you again.” Instead of hanging up the FaceTime, Sam switched to a normal phone call after exchanging a look with Bucky and although (Y/N) was confused by his action, she listened closely as they approached John Walker. “Who were you talking to? Your girlfriend?”

“My best friend, actually. She was checking in on me, but she had to go.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), right?” (Y/N)’s brows rose in surprise but she remained silent, mindful that the phone was on speaker. “I’ve studied the files of all the Avengers in preparation for taking up the mantle, in case I ever have to work alongside them. I sent her an email, you know, giving her my condolences and asking for her personal blessing to carry Steve’s shield, but I guess it must’ve gotten lost somewhere ‘cause I never heard back.”

“That’s because I sent that unopened email directly into the goddamn trash,” She muttered under her breath and heard Bucky cover his snort of amusement with a small cough.

“Look, if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance and you guys know that.”

Sam sighed. “So, what do you got?”

“Well, the leader’s name’s Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place.”

A new voice spoke up, and (Y/N) quickly recognized it as belonging to Lemar Hoskins, Walker’s partner known as Battlestar to the public. “They geo-tagged a location, then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe.”

“We think she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of those camps.”

Bucky snorted in derision, and (Y/N) could very-well imagine him rolling his eyes in plain view of Walker. “Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since the Blip, so I guess you’ll have to look real hard.”

“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?”

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?”

“No, we don’t know, Bucky. It’s only a matter of time before we find out.”

“Things are really intense for you, aren’t they, Walker?”

(Y/N) listened to the heated exchange between Bucky and Walker with growing concern, and she was thankful when Sam interrupted them before they could escalate. “Take it easy. Look, Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them, but you guys have rules of engagement and all kinds of authorization you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible, so it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.”

There was a moment’s pause before Walker replied, “A word of advice, then: Stay the hell out of my way.”

She could hear footsteps walking down the street and after a minute, the phone call was switched back to FaceTime and she saw Sam and Bucky’s concerned faces on the screen. “So, what do you think of the new Captain America?”

“I think that you two need to be careful around him,” (Y/N) answered honestly, perching herself on the garage’s workbench and shaking her head. “Something seems off with him. I mean, ‘targeting civilians’ was concerning enough, and then he basically threatened you both when you wouldn’t agree to work with him? I don’t know about either of you, but I’m even more grateful that he doesn’t have the serum than I was before.”

“Yeah, me too. Speaking of the serum, it looks like we’ll have to start there if we wanna gather more intel on these Flag Smashers.” Sam glanced over at Bucky walking beside him. “What are you thinkin’?”

“Well, I know what we have to do. When Isaiah said ‘my people’-”

“Oh, don’t take that to heart, that’s not what he meant.”

“No, he meant Hydra.” At Bucky’s statement, (Y/N)’s jaw dropped as she slowly realized what he was intending on doing. “Hydra used to be my people.”

Sam scoffed at Bucky’s implication. “Not a chance.”

“Walker doesn’t have any leads-”

“I know where you’re going with this, no.”

“He knows all of Hydra’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia?” Bucky shot an imploring look at (Y/N). “C’mon, doll, back me up here.”

(Y/N) bit her lip and carefully thought their less-than-ideal situation over. “It sounds like you don’t have much of a choice in the matter, but you need to make sure you’re mentally prepared to face him again. I remember Siberia, Bucky, but I also remember how he took control of you in Berlin.”

Sam looked over at Bucky with concern in his dark brown eyes. “So, you’re just gonna go sit in a room with this guy?”

“…Yes.”

With a slow nod, her best friend glanced between the super-soldier beside him and his phone screen. “Okay, then. We’re gonna go see Zemo.”

Despite the seriousness of their situation, (Y/N) couldn’t contain her huff of laughter. “Look at you two, already starting to work together like a team. Keep it up and you’ll figure all of this out in no time. Hey, maybe you’ll even end up becoming real friends!”

“You’ve got some imagination, doll; it’s no wonder why Steve fell head over heels for you,” Bucky remarked but managed to give her a half-smile. “Take care while we’re gone, okay?”

“I’ll give you a call as soon as we know more about what we’re dealing with.” Her best friend’s assured tone and the look of determination that was written across his features helped to ease some of her worry for the pair, and he smiled a little when she finally nodded. “We’ll see you soon, Booksmart.”

“Good luck, Birdbrain,” (Y/N) replied and when the FaceTime ended, she sighed and stared at her concerned reflection in the phone’s screen. “And stay safe.” She pocketed her phone and lifted Carina out of her playpen, giving the giggling infant a kiss on the forehead and tickling her stomach before handing her the stuffed white wolf. “You’re absolutely right, lemon drop. Your uncles are going to be okay because they’ve got each other’ backs. C’mon, let’s go check on Daddy and make sure he hasn’t fallen asleep on one of his easels again…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: The next chapter takes place in Delacroix, so buckle up for more angst and shenanigans! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (Part III)

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist

Stumblin’ In Book I: “The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

Tagging:  @mrs-obrien​​​​​​ @lahoete​​​​​​ @awkward117 @cminr @natdrunk​​​​​ @momc95​​​​​​ @savedbystyle​​​​​​ @miraculouscloud @awkwardnesshabitat​​​​​​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​​​​​ @mangosandmimosas @supersouthy @benakenalove​​​​​​ @brooke0297​​​​​​ @hufflepeople​​​​​​ @becausewelie​​​​​​ @outoftheregular​​​​​​​ @junipermurdock​​​​​​ @ladydmalfoy @mads-weasley​​​​​​ @username23345 @crist1216​​​​​​ @capswife​​​​​​ @lilmschild​​​​​​ @avngrsinitiative @crowleysqueenofhell​​​​​​ @y-napotat​​​ @mary1raven​​​​​​ @groovy-lady​​​​​​ @ljej95​​​​​​ @innersublimefury​​​ @prettysbliss​​​​​​​  

[sevenate-9]

Lily coming out as trans to James

“If you could have any name, what would it be?”

“Oh. I guess I’d stick with James.”

“Really?” She made a face.

“Hey! I take offence to that,” James said, knowing his smile betrayed him.

“No but, seriously though, like, you don’t have any nickname you wish had stuck around, or- like you’ve never thought about it?”

James, seeing how this seemed to genuinely matter to his friend, thought about it. “I guess not. I mean, my uncle used to call me Jamie?“

“That’s cute.“

“Cute?” James teased, raising his eyebrows. Flirting as a joke was still okay, right? Just sort of bros being sort of bros. The eyeroll and hint of a blush high on her cheekbones answered for him. As long as he didn’t make things weird. He relented.

“But I’m fine with James. Why do you ask?”

“Oh.” The playfulness suddenly dropped from his friend’s countenance, she seemed to be second guessing himself. “No reason.”

“Well obviously there is, you’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“The-” James mimicked her ducking her head. “You do it when you’re hiding something.”

She met his gaze, covertly biting her bottom lip, uncertain. 

Softly, painfully gently in true James Potter fashion, he tried again. “What did you really want to talk about? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to now, but you can tell me anything.” 

She still seemed hesitant. “Like, even if you asked me about names because you’ve freshly murdered someone and we’re going on the run. I could be John, and you could be... August. Or Cedar, that’s nicer. Or whatever name you’d want! It’d have to be a common one though, we wouldn’t want to alert-”

“Lily.”

“No-- James, who’s-,” James choked out in confusion.

Then: 

"Oh. Oh."

“Yeah. Oh.” He’d never seen his friend look less self-assured, downright nervous.

“You- you want to be called Lily? Like, without the murder?”

Lily fiddled with the edge of her shirt but looked James straight in the eye. “Yes.“

“In a- I mean that’s a-  you’re-”

“I'm a girl, James,” Lily clarified. Then, she visibly let go of something to speak. “I've always been one, it's just that I got tired of waiting for the world to catch up with that.”

Before James had a chance to react she continued, faster and faster. “And I know there’s a lot of stuff out there about people like me, but all of it is just ignorant hateful bullshit, and I figured since you were raised in a city and you're nice and kind and one of my best mates maybe you'd be the first to understand, I mean, not the first, since you don't know what it's actually like, but, oh my god please say something.” She inhaled sharply, breath catching up with her.

“Lily. Like the flower?”

The worry melted off her like snow, her shoulders dropping.

“Yes. I figured if being trans wouldn’t get me disowned, dropping the family theme would.”

“Lily,” he said again, trying out the vowels like a new shoe. He scooted forward to grab her hand and smiled meaningfully. “That’s a beautiful name, it suits you. And of course I support you.“

Sunshine breaks out on her face. “Thanks, Potter.”

“A lot of things are making sense now, actually,” James said without thinking, because of course he did.

Her eyebrow made a light crease. “Like what?“

Like how I only identified as bi so liking you would make sense. Like how I’ve weirdly thought of you as a girl from the moment I met you. “It has always felt kind of weird for you to be in the same locker room.” is what he decides on saying out loud.

She chuckled ruefully and dropped his hand to fidget with her ring. “For you it’s weird, for me it’s terrifying, it’s why I’ve started changing in the bathroom.”

James couldn’t contain his reaction. “That’s why? We all thought you had a weird birthmark you were embarrassed about or something!,” he said, because of course he did.

They sat with those confessions for a moment before bursting into laughter. “That’s- so - that’s so fucked- up,” Lily managed to get out between bouts of laughter. James was doubled over, head buried in his hands. “We didn’t know! We didn’t-”

 The patter of rain on the window had slowed. James, catching his breath, was about to comment on it when they heard the sound of keys turning in the door and startled.

“I should probably-” Lily started. “You could stay if you-” James began at the same time. Neither continued.

Then Remus was pushing the door open and their eyes shot to him. He was looking worse for wear. His short curls were darkened and plastered to his forehead, his mouth hanging slightly open so as not to breathe in the rainwater which was dripping a decent sized puddle onto their floor from his very much non-water-resistant sweater and pants. James cringed.

Remus, or the soaked sweater cosplaying as him, just stared into the middle distance with a slightly lost expression. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He then promptly peeled off his sweater to toss it on the floor with a thud and disappeared with a towel, presumably off to the showers to warm up.

“Poor sod.”

“He’ll dry,” James said. Lily turned back to him.

“I really ought to go now.” She got up and James belatedly copied her, following her the two metres to the door. “Oh, one more thing.” She turned around, James awkwardly bumping into her. They apologised at the same time and stepped away.

“Right, er, just, please don’t tell anyone else about. You’re the first person I’ve told, like, ever.”

James the hand not holding the doorknob and swiped his thumb tenderly over her freckled knuckles. 

“Thank you for telling me, Lily. Really. I’m honoured. And I won’t breathe a word.”

She smiled before kissing him on the cheek. While she was walking down the hall towards the staircase, James was left in the doorframe, his face still feeling the brush of her skin against it as if it’d left a mark. 

[lexyleblancc]

Sea dragon {Aegon Targaryen}

Hi all! I’ve never written about this fandom before so this is new for me! It went longer than i expected so part 2 will be out in a little while now :) Let me know what you think!

Warnings: Nothing really? If I missed anything let me know! I mean, she’s marrying her cousin so red flag in itself. 

summary: The daughter of Daemon Targaryen is to be married to her cousin prince Aegon. Her free spirit needs to be tamed, and the king hopes that this will ease his issue with his first born son as well.  word count: 4.8k

“Naejot se jēdar, Ayniss!” - To the sky

The daughter of Daemon Targaryen was something that will forever loom over her, heir to the Rogue Prince, and in return something rogue herself. A princess, that of self interest and brood for wars that have yet to come knocking on their doorstep. The young girl was one spitfire like her father, much to the dismay of the King who tried so hard to indulge his niece in the ways of being a lady. The Targaryen blood runs thick through her veins, she was all too stubborn to listen. She did not wish to be prayed upon by Lords and suitors who wished nothing more than to have Targaryen blood run through their bloodline. The dominant genes of silver hair and violet eyes that shone like amethysts in the sunlight. Her father, although aloof with most, would always hold his daughter to the highest regard. He never wished to marry, and yet he did because that was his birthright. His daughter longed for the feeling of the sea, and the scales of her dragons back. She was known through the realms as a sea dragon, one that never wished to marry. Any and all suitors that set Daemon requests for an audience were denied, he sent men running away in hopes his daughter would make the decision all on her own. 

“You must marry (Y/N)! If not to a lord, many of which have left the regard of your father and come to me, then to your blood!” Viserys exclaimed through the room. Yet she never faltered at her uncle's yelling, she stood tall with her hands held in front of her. 

“I do not wish to marry!” She yelled back, biting back all the words she wished so desperately she could say instead. 

“You wish to be what? A warrior? Women do not wager in wars!”

“This one does! I may have the dragon's blood in my veins, you may be my King but you are not my father!” She knew this would become more of an issue as time went on, she was now of the age of 6 and 10. She should have been married off years ago, promised to someone when she was born. She should already have borne a child or two by this time. Yet her father has let her run free through the realms, wager in petty battles and lead her own men into them. She had been named a great warrior in these years, and yet her King, her own uncle, would refuse to acknowledge it. “I will not be married off to some man who offers this house the highest bid. I am not a prize so easily won! I have led men through the battles of the Stepstones, I am the reason men get to go home to their loving wives and awaiting children! I have fought your battles for you and yet you give me no regard!” 

“(Y/N) that is enough.” Daemon finally said, pushing himself from the wall he used for support and walked to his daughter. “I have let you live your life in any way you have seen fit. Gave you men to lead and open skies to fly upon. My daughter, it is time you uphold your duties.” She allowed her father to cradle her face between his hands, bringing their foreheads to meet as she let his words settle around her. 

“You want me to marry, father?” (Y/N) questioned, searching her fathers eyes for the denial of these accusations. 

“I do not wish for you to be unhappy, my little sea dragon, but it is no longer in my hands.” Daemon whispered. “Your King has decreed it.” He spoke with regret. He had wished that he could avoid this, allow his daughter to wed as she saw fit. The girl’s step mother, Princess Rhaenyra was one of the same. She didn’t wish to marry, not for the politics of such a thing and much less for the riches of some lord. 

“Who?” her voice was small, as she looked from her father to her uncle. “Who is this man you wish to force me to marry Uncle? I assume I have no choice in the matter any more.” 

“My son, Aegon. Helena took to Aemond before we could betroth her to Aegon.” Viserys told her. “The wedding will be held in three weeks time, a grand royal wedding for my first born son and my only niece.” She found her fathers eyes, hoping he would say something but he remained silent. Silent during a time she so desperately needed him to defend her. She wished he would speak on this act, protest her marriage and let her live her life with her dragon. She wished to adventure, and see the world while she was still young. She did not wish to remain in the stonewalls of the Keep, her dragon kept in a pit far out of her reach. 

“Very well, Uncle.” She spoke quietly, turning out of her fathers grasp and leaving the chambers of her Uncle. She did not wish to stay in the insufferable room any longer, she needed to get out of this castle, away from the prying eyes that begged for her to let slip as to what had just happened in that room. She darted through the halls, cursing herself for the hair she possessed, if it were darker maybe the maids would pay her no mind as she ran through the halls. Outside in the courtyard, knights and handmaids alike shot her way but the princess took it to no mind. “I will need a horse.” She said to one of the stable boys, who nodded and left quickly to fetch her a horse. 

“Princess, you must not leave without an escort.” One of the Kings knights said, approaching her from the side. 

“I do not require an escort to go see my own dragon.” The princess spoke, thanking the stable boy who provided her with a white horse for her to use. “Tell my father not to worry himself with the likes of me. I will return by sundown.” She told the knights, before leading the horse out of the courtyard, dirt kicked up behind them as her horse galloped away. The dragonpit wasn’t far from the Keep, although it was far enough for her liking. With her dragon, Ayniss, was one of silver and blue scales. When the sun caught it in certain lights, her glimmering scales looked like those of the ocean waves. The sea that she would always long for. Her father used to joke, saying she had the soul of a pirate and all those that came before her. Her heart belonged to the waters and the smell of sea salt clung to her hair like the finest of perfumes. 

The dragon keepers were quick to fetch Ayniss for princess (Y/N). Although muttering about how they wished she had provided them with more warning. They could have had the dragon outside already and waiting for departure. “I apologize for the lack of warning my friends, if anyone should come looking for me… tell them I have taken to the sky.” She climbed to her saddle, made for her to sit comfortably and with ease. “Naejot se jēdar, Ayniss!” The girl called, which was all the dragon needed to take flight. Her reins in hand, (Y/N) took a deep breath inhaling the crisp air around her. 

She truly could allow herself to feel at peace in the sky. The wind was sharp against her face, but her blood was warm. It didn’t matter how far she flew, it never would. Ayniss was young, and (Y/N) was much too stubborn to admit defeat. She was and always will be a dragonrider by birthright, and although most Targaryen’s undeniably cared for their dragons, they used them as a tool of power. (Y/N) and Ayniss were one of the same, the bond was strong and the blood thick. The girl did very little to aid the dragon into obeying her, it was more than respect between dragon and dragonrider. (Y/N) loved Ayniss, like she was her own family.

Ayniss flew above the ocean, wings hitting the water in order to splash it up which made (Y/N) let out a laugh. They flew together until (Y/N)’s eyes landed on a cliff on the coast, covered in lush green grass. She called to Ayniss, guiding her to land on top of the cliff. When the dragon landed, (Y/N) jumped off the dragon’s back and instead settled into her side. They would be safe here, from wandering eyes and eavesdropping ears. 

“I am to marry.” She sighed, her head resting against the scales of her dragon’s side. “I do not wish for it, but I have run out of time my friend.” (Y/N) didn’t know how many riders spoke to their dragon like a friend. How many of them treated them like a friend, but it brought her peace of mind. She was able to work through her issues easier this way, and was able to voice her concerns to a creature that would always be on her side. 

She stayed there for a few hours more, and when her feet landed back on the soil of King’s landing, her father was there waiting for her. “I went looking for you.” Daemon said, holding back his grin as he spoke. He was sent out by Viserys to find her, but the prince knew that it would be no easy task. There were corners of these lands anyone could hide away in, never to be found. 

��I told the knights I would be back.” She told her father, taking his arm as they trekked back to their horses. “I assume we are to have dinner with the prince and my other cousins.” 

“Try not to look so upset by this daughter. Just because you have to marry him doesn’t mean-”

“I am entering into a loveless marriage, father. I will carry his children as it is my duty. I will grow old with a man I do not love, I will never know freedom again. I will never go anywhere without someone by my side, watching me. The life of a quiet wife, a woman who holds no power because women are only meant to keep a man’s bed warm.” Daemon sighed, grabbing (Y/N)’s arm to stop her from walking. 

“Aegon is a drunk, he is lazy. Not ideally someone I would have matched to my first born heir, but it is one I have little say in. After the wedding I will return to Dragonstone and will see you only for meetings, dinners, whenever the King wishes. I do not wish to leave you here (Y/N), but we waited too long and it is out of my hands. The king can not have someone in his line unwed, unclaimed. Let alone two of you.” Her father explained. (Y/N) only nodded her head, climbing onto her horse without a word. Daemon sighed, doing the same as his daughter so they could make their way back to the Red Keep. 

When they had arrived, handmaids were quick to take the girl away from her father, leading her to her chambers for a quick wash. “The king requested you be bathed and given new dressings for your dinner tonight, princess.” She could only nod her head as the ladies let her scrub herself clean quickly, her hair being kept up and away from the hot water. She was dressed in a royal red, one of the true colours of the house of Targaryen. Escorted to the dinning hall, she was pleased to find her step brothers and half sisters sat around the table, her step-mother present as well. 

“Princess.” (Y/N) greeted, pushing past everyone and into the waiting embrace of her step-mother princess Rhaenyra. 

“Oh sweet girl, look at you.” Rhaenyra hummed, pressing a kiss to the girl’s forehead before admiring the dress she adorned. 

“You look beautiful sister!” Lucerys said with a grin, which made (Y/N) smile and bring him into her arms, kissing the top of his head. He was not her brother by blood, neither was Jacaerys but (Y/N) had accepted them as such when they most needed her. 

“Thank you, dear brother.” She grinned, taking the boy into her arms and guiding him to the table that sat in the middle of the room. Her uncle, and his wife Alicent sat side by side. Her cousins, Aemond, Helena and Aegon all stood talking to one another in quiet whispers. “Would you like to sit with me tonight, dear brother?” (Y/N) asked Lucerys, to which the boy was happy to agree. 

Everyone had settled around the table, Aegon being ushered to sit beside his betrothed. (Y/N), upon her better judgment allowed her eyes to wander from the younger boy beside her, and to the man on her other side. His eyes were tired, and he smelt strongly of wine. Despite this, she could not deny him being handsome. At the age of 8 and 10, Aegon should have been married off years ago and yet he remained unpromised all these years. 

“Let us all settle, we are here to celebrate the unity between two of our very own tonight!” Viserys called through the room, making everyone fall silent. All eyes were on Aegon and (Y/N), which made the girl fidget in her seat as the silver haired man beside her took a long sip of his wine. 

“Yes, thank you Uncle.” (Y/N) spoke, bowing her head with a tight lipped smile. The girl had no idea what Aegon thought of the marriage that was to take place, but she could only assume he was just as disappointed as herself. At least she wasn’t being shipped off to an unknown land, she at least was able to stay close to home. 

The night carried on, everyone talked amongst themselves throughout the night while (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself from picking at her plate of food. She didn’t have an appetite tonight, being pawned off probably had something to do with that. She didn’t notice Alicent urging her son to speak to her, begging her son not to run off yet another lady. Aegon grunted, downing his wine and standing from his seat. “A toast,” Aegon said, grabbing a pitcher and filling his glass once again. “To my betrothed (Y/N), I look forward to spending these upcoming years with you.” The prince said, forcing a smile while he locked eyes with the girl. Everyone raised their glasses, coursing with congratulations, while (Y/N) offered a small smile. 

“I look forward to it, my prince.” She said softly. 

The next few weeks (Y/N) and Aegon would be forced to go on walks through the gardens, take meals together, and even have their lessons intertwined with one another. The Queen was making various attempts to put her son’s endless affairs to an end. He was to be married in a week now, and although a small friendship had formed through their forced proximity, there was yet to be any actions made to acknowledge their engagement. The pair had known each other briefly in childhood, but (Y/N) was never in one place for long. Whether she was off with her father, fighting in the Stepstones, or on a ship to explore the wonders of the world. 

“Princess.” The voice greeted her while she stood in the gardens. A simple rose was toyed between her fingers before she turned to face who had called her. A small smile in greeting as she bowed her head slightly in greeting. 

“My prince.” Aegon offered his arm to her as they began their walk through the grounds of the Red Keep. More often than not, the pair were found to be talking quietly amongst themselves, (Y/N) telling him about her adventures through the lands fondly. Today was different though, and although the prince didn’t mind the peace and quiet, it was out of the ordinary for her to be quiet. She wasn’t known to be timid, or to hold her tongue when something displeased her. 

“You’re unnervingly quiet today cousin.” Aegon commented, looking down to the girl in confusion. (Y/N) looked up, offering a small smile before a sigh slipped past her lips. 

“Would you like to go riding?” (Y/N) asked him, the pair had never gone riding together. The King wanted them kept on the grounds until their wedding, but the girl was getting antsy from being on the ground for so long. She longed for the feeling of the wind against her skin, and the small of the sea. She no longer smelt of it, and maybe that was by design, but she hated it. 

Aegon’s eyes looked around them, they were always being watched but it seemed everyone around them was distracted enough. “Let’s go.” Aegon found someone to ride ahead and prepare the dragon keepers for their arrival. While the carriage was prepared for the two to take to the dragon pit. When they were safe in the enclosure, (Y/N) rested her back against the wall and sighed. 

“Do you ever wish the dragon pit was closer to the Red Keep?” She asked quietly, which made Aegon look at her curiously. 

“I don’t think the people of Kings landing would appreciate it much.” He told her quietly, which only caused the girl to cross her arms over her chest. 

“I don’t like being so far from Ayniss.” She told him, her eyes peering out the small cracks of the carriage. There was little room to look out at the world passing them by, but she supposed that was the whole point. It kept the royals separate from the commoners and prying eyes. “I also don’t like not being able to see where we are.” 

“It’s so they don’t see who’s in here.” Aegon reminded her. “Some people who ride in carriages aren’t well liked, it’s for your safety.” 

“I can properly look after myself.” She told him. “I don’t need a false window to do it for me. The people like me well enough as it is.” She informed, and it was true. The people adored the young dragon rider, and she liked them as well. Her entire family wouldn’t be a royal worth remembering if it wasn’t for the people who loved them so. 

“It isn’t you they don’t like.” Aegon said with a chuckle. “You’re marrying the most hated of my siblings.” He reminded her. (Y/N) would be arrogant if she turned a blind eye to Aegon’s nature, she was well aware of his extracurriculars. The prince was a playboy through and through, he took whatever maids he deemed worthy in his drunken haze, would wander to the street of silk during the night to find solitude in sex workers who never questioned why one of their princes were paying for their time. The women in those pillow houses weren’t paid to ask questions, but to perform a service for the royal. 

“Yes well, I haven’t heard of you scaring off any more maids as of late.” she commented when the carriage came to a halt and the door was opened for them. (Y/N) took the arm of the waiting knight as she made her way down the carriage steps and into the fresh air around them. She couldn’t help but grin when her eyes landed on the familiar silver scales. 

“I have never seen Ayniss in person, she is more beautiful than the stories say.” Aegon told the smaller girl, a gleam in his eyes as he watched her eyes dance with excitement. 

“So is Sunfyre… he truly is gorgeous.” The stories of Sunfyre the golden dragon were known even in distant lands. The dragon was said to have scales that shimmered as bright as mounds of gold. Fortunately for the dragon riders, the two dragons seemed to not mind the other’s company. It normally took a lot of time and patience for dragons to get acquainted with each other, but if there was already a bond between (Y/N) and Aegon, it may have made it easier. “Are you ready?” The girl asked, smiling like a small child would, before running up to greet her companion. 

“I have missed you, my friend.” She cooed, running her hand along the warm scales of the silver dragon, before stepping up onto the small platform and climbing onto her saddle. Aegon followed her actions, climbing onto Sunfyre. When they were both settled into their handmade saddles, (Y/N) looked over to the silver haired man and smiled. “Naejot se jēdar, Ayniss!” The girl called in high valyrian, before the dragon let out a loud roar and took to the sky. She looked over her shoulder to find Sunfyre behind her, Aegon didn’t know where (Y/N) was going, but he followed behind her anyways. 

“Try to keep up!” (Y/N) called over the wind, making Aegon shake his head as he rolled his eyes. She directed Ayniss to the cliff she had discovered two weeks prior, somewhere the two could be away from the prying eyes of the Keep. The flight was short, but the smell of the sea was strong. The joy she felt, her eyes closed as the wind wisped past her ears loudly. The air was growing cold as the seasons started to change, but that wasn’t going to bother the spirit of (Y/N). 

When the two dragons landed on the clearing of the cliff, (Y/N) was quick to allow her feet to meet the ground, Aegon copying her actions. “If you wanted to get me alone princess, you could have just asked.” Aegon teased which made the girl roll her eyes. 

“You forget yourself, my prince.” (Y/N) quipped back. “I needed to get away from the Keep for a moment. All anyone talks about anymore is the wedding.” She sighed, sitting on the ledge of the cliff. Her legs dangled over the side, the sound of waves crashing underneath her enough to calm her nerves. 

“I know you never wished to marry.” Aegon sighed, joining her to sit. “Trust me when I say, I truly do not intend to hold you from the life you desire.” 

“I just - I always thought I would marry for love. Not that the love for family doesn’t run deep… I long for adventure Aegon and I will not find that here.” 

“We can call it off.” Aegon said without thinking. He knew they truly could never call off the engagement, it was put in place by the King himself, his own father. Maybe it was a final attempt to lay to rest Aegon’s ways, and (Y/N)’s loud spirit. Whatever the reason, somewhere along the way the pair had found a middle ground, a way to coexist together despite the differences they truly held. 

“Your father would have our heads for treason, kin or not.” (Y/N) laughed. “I do not mind the fact that we have to marry you know… after this short period of time you have truly become my closest friend.” Aegon never had any friends. He had his brother and sister, but Aemond and himself never got along for longer than a few minutes in passing. Helena always spoke in riddles, dragon dreams clouding her mind between prophecy and reality so it was hard to talk to her sometimes. A friend, a foreign  word to him. Aegon liked the sound of it though, his first friend, his only friend (Y/N) Targaryen. 

“We could have… rules set in place? A guideline for what we expect from this marriage so no one has any expectations not met.” Aegon suggested, to which the girl nodded in agreement. Neither of them knew how long they stayed on the cliff side away from everyone. Instead they discussed their new arrangements, talked about where they would like to see their marriage go one day. The smallest things they wished for the other to uphold. “Everything you have said is very fair princess, yet you fail to mention my drinking or my personal endeavors.” Aegon reminded her, he figured she would have something to say about the way he had lived his life up until her. 

“I do not wish to control you, Aegon. You’re drinking is your own business until it affects me. When that time comes we will discuss it. The woman you choose to bed is your own business. Although I ask you to keep that away from me and our chambers, I do not wish to have every woman in the kingdom in my space… I can not ask you to forget your ways just that you uphold our marriage respectfully.” 

The week had gone by quickly after their day-long escape. When they had landed back in King’s landing the King had been furious with the two, despite the joy Daemon had found in the situation. He had lectured his daughter about running off with a man before her wedding, being alone with him in such a way was frowned upon by the people. Daemon couldn’t care less about who she decided to be alone with, he knew his daughter better than another soul. If she had bed someone before she was married off, Daemon would be the first to know about it. Just as she was the first to know about any marriage he had after her mother. Her mother's passing had caused the pair to grow close, a trust filled bond growing in its place. They confided in one another, Daemon would not marry another if his daughter wished it. Yet, (Y/N) approved of every woman that sparked Daemon’s interest and she had earned herself many siblings through her father’s marriage to his past and current wives. 

The first day of the wedding ceremony was upon her. (Y/N) had seen very little of Aegon since they had left the Red Keep that day. The Queen figured if they spent less time around each other, there would be less cause for another random disappearance. They saw each other for dinners the week leading up until the wedding, then ushered away from each other once again. Due to this, dinner had grown longer between the two. So the friends could discuss their days, the troubles they were having and any concerns they felt obligated to share. The wedding ceremonies were set to take place across several days, as was custom for royal weddings. 

First would be the welcoming feast, greeting lords and ladies from various lands across the realm. Then would be two days for the tourneys that (Y/N) despised so much. Then the pair would indulge in a royal ball before holding the wedding ceremony in front of the realm, where they would finally be mad husband and wife. 

The days would be long, but she found comfort in knowing it wouldn’t be just her that had to endure this torture. She had wondered how Aegon felt through all of this, they wouldn’t be allowed a moment together to talk over the next few days until they were finally married. They would eat with every lord and lady in the great hall, would sit in the booth with their family while watching the tournaments take place. They would dance through the ball, surrounded by hundreds of people and their houses, before finally being made a spectacle while they were married in front of those same hundreds of people. 

The knock on her chamber doors made the girl sigh, her maids had finally left her alone for a moment, and now they were back. “Come!” She called, sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace. This would be one of the last few nights in her own Chambers, before she and Aegon were moved into a shared royal apartment in the castle, where they would be expected to raise a family. The door opened, a pair of feet making their way to where she sat. The girl looked over her shoulder lazily, before her eyes landed on the man himself. 

“Aegon!” His presence was almost comforting. She rushed to stand, moving around the couch and into his arms. “You shouldn’t be here. If anyone sees you-” 

“I had to see you first. These next few days will be busy princess.” his hand brushed along her cheek as he smiled. “I was doing some thinking this past week-”

“Uh oh.”

“Oh shush.” Aegon couldn’t help the laugh that slipped past his lips. “I want this to be real (Y/N).”

“How real can we get besides marrying Aegon?” (Y/N) teased, stepping away from him, but remaining in his arms nonetheless. 

“I mean, I want to do this right. You said it yourself, we are friends, but I have grown to care for you. I do not wish to have any maid or pillow girl, just you dear princess.”