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1d1195 · 26 days ago

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Pucking Rookie I

~8.4k words

From me: here she is. gonna be at least one more part (probs 2) sorry. I didn't mean to do a series. I just can't shut up and I introduced too many fun characters. I don't know a lot about hockey so a lot of this is probably unrealistic.

Warnings: douchey ex-boyfriend, a little violent (it's hockey after all)

Summary: When the assistant coach's niece comes to take pictures of the team, her lens isn't the only thing capturing Harry Styles heart and soul on and off the ice. Harry wants to win her over more than he wants to win the entire league championship. (Although it would be nice to rub it in her ex's stupid face if he won that too).

The rink was chilly even with the appropriate clothes on. Despite the fact she practically lived in ice arenas for the two years, it never ceased to catch her off guard with how cold it was. To be fair, she was a lot closer to the ice this time around. Her camera pressed into the little glass cutout, her eye checking the visual before she clicked the shutter.

Quickly she pulled away as two of the guys pressed against the glass right next to her. “Hey Sweetheart,” Noah Ashford smiled briefly as he skated off in the other direction. She rolled her eyes. Uncle Charlie, assistant coach of The Arctic Chargers, warned the entire team that his niece was taking residence at the rink and would be part of media photos, headshots, and would be submitting to all major sport reporting outlets. The team was told without question, not to bother her in any way.

Naturally the group of twenty twenty-something year-old hockey players were going to do nothing of the sort.

Captain Evander Langston swished almost gracefully over to her. He stopped in front of her with a puff of ice at his feet. “Do you think I have a good side?”

She shook her head with a smirk and looked over the photos she just took in the last three minutes. “Probably not the left. You’ve been checked into the board over there about five times this practice alone.”

He put a hand on his chest. “Sweetheart, you wound me.” Sweetheart was the name Uncle Charlie called her in front of the whole team during the introduction and so it was the only thing any of them paid attention to from their coach. “Don’t say that in front of the others,” he pleaded quietly.

“I would never, Cap,” she smiled kindly.

He returned her grin with his own. “You call me Cap, and I’m going to have a problem with Coach’s rule, Sweetheart. But I know we’re all going to like having you around to keep us in check.”

“Lang, you better not be flirting when your technique needs work!” Kian Calloway shouted across the ice where he slapped a puck into the open net from the blue line.

“You better not be flirting, period, Lang!” Uncle Charlie called.

“Yeah!” Callie repeated to his captain. She had gone over the nicknames with her uncle before starting. Lang, Asher, and Callie were easy and as some of the major stars of the team, it made sense she would chat with them most. “If anyone is going to flirt with her, it’s going to be me!”

“I’ll sit you for less, Callie,” Charlie warned.

She couldn’t help but laugh. But she didn’t mind the attention nor care. It was adorable. Like a group of puppies looking for attention. With a shake of her head, she made her way around the glass and boards for another angle of the players on the ice. She wanted shots of the goalie. Niall Horan seemed much too nice to be a hockey player but perhaps that’s why he was the goalie. He was the first one to introduce himself and he didn’t seem to have the temper that the other players did over trivial things (like tying skates together or putting salt in someone’s Gatorade). Niall blocked shots from his teammates as if it was nothing but breathing. In a way it was stunning, nearly beautiful.

Hockey was violent, yes. But there was beauty in it, too. The way players skated backwards, cupped the puck on their stick. The speed, agility, and gracefulness required to stay standing. It was all really beautiful, and she was excited to be up close this time around. For the last two or so years she had been in a box cheering for her ex-boyfriend, right forward for the Glacier Wolves, Kael Crowe.

To be completely honest, she should have known it wouldn’t have worked out. Among the cheating, the belittling, and all the other things that were, in hindsight, an abysmal part of dating him, the orange and blue coloring wasn’t her favorite. The Arctic Chargers black and silver jerseys were much more her speed. Kael was her boyfriend of years and years but once he made it to the majors three years ago, things were very different.

“You can come on the ice, Sweetheart, we’re almost done!” Asher said.

Even though she had dated a hockey player for nearly a decade (most of which took place during college) she couldn’t skate. Uncle Charlie tried when she was younger to teach her, but the balance and coordination was not in her wheelhouse. She longed to skate better. Figure skaters were so dainty and beautiful as they glided on the ice. She was neither of those things and almost dreaded getting on the ice in the boots she was wearing. If she fell in front of her uncle, it was embarrassing. She could only imagine how embarrassing it would be in front of an entire professional hockey team.

“One second!”

She wanted to prolong the agony. Plus, with her fragile camera it seemed like a death sentence to send her out there. Even if it was what she was getting paid to do. It wasn’t the most lucrative job she had, but it was what she wanted to do most. She was grateful for the opportunity and hoped it would kickstart into something more. Photography was a major passion for her. Pictures of anything. Her computer was filled with pictures of the sun and sky from the summer. Snowy days in the winter. Pictures of her parents’ dog. Her uncle’s kids on birthdays. She was the official photographer of family weddings and more. But it wasn’t steady. A lot of her post-college young life had been put on hold to dote on Kael. Something she regretted but couldn’t do anything about now.

Uncle Charlie was kind to help her out and she thought starting now was better than never starting at all.

“Styles is that you?!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t piss yourselves in excitement,” the voice was right beside her.

“You better be fucking cleared before touching this rink,” Ray Wheeler, head coach and another surrogate uncle to her was a bit gruffer in his delivery to the players than Charlie most of the time.

The man beside her slapped his hand, paper held pressed to the glass. “Doctor-cleared for takeoff,” he called. A round of cheers went up and she snapped another picture of the excitement, ignoring the one and only Harry Styles beside her.

Harry Styles was Kael’s rival. The same draft class (although begrudgingly, Kael would admit Harry went first), and almost the same position—left forward. Fortunately, they were in different conferences, so they only ever played one another twice a season. Unless they made it to finals which hadn’t happened yet. But in her opinion, it was only a matter of time. Harry made headlines for his skill and ability, fitness, and overall dominance on the ice. He was protective of his best friend in goal—he and Niall were a pair like no other. Which meant when they did play each other, Kael knew exactly how to get under Harry’s skin.

“Who are you?” He asked.

Harry wasn’t here for her formal introduction to the team. Before she could open her mouth, Uncle Charlie was there. “That’s my niece Styles. She’s off limits so just make your way to the locker room.”

“Ah,” he smiled.

It should have been noted that in addition to skill and ability, fitness, and dominance on the ice, Harry was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. His eyes were green which sure as hell meant God was in fact a woman because no man would know to make Harry even more beautiful with forest green eyes. He was tall, even taller on skates. His skin glowed in a way that should have been illegal when she spent half an hour dousing her face in ten moisturizing products each night to achieve the same look and Harry spent most of his time indoors on an ice rink. Was it the chill that made his cheeks pinker? Would she get the same glow working here all season? She could only hope.

But it was that smile that did her in. His straight teeth peeking out from his lips. The dimples. The arrogance behind the expression. The pink curve of his upturned lips went right through her as he grinned at her.

“Nice t’meet you,” he held his hand out.

“Hands off!” Charlie shouted again.

Harry chuckled as she took his hand with an eyeroll introducing herself. “I’m your photo media specialist, if you will.”

“Excellent,” Harry grinned. “Let me know if y’need me t’pose a certain way,” he winked.

She shook her head and Niall skated up to the side. “Hey Sweetheart,” he said.

“Hi, baby, I missed you,” Harry answered with a grin. Niall shook his head flipping his friend off which made her giggle. Niall remained focused on her.

“Your Uncle said you might need help walking out here.”

“Oh, do we have a skating rookie on our hands?” Harry asked. Her cheeks felt hot under the assumption. Even though it was accurate.

“I suck at skating,” she shrugged. There wasn’t any use playing it off—they would know in a matter of seconds. “I get too nervous and lose my balance,” she admitted.

They both tilted their heads at her. She knew that vulnerability wasn’t something seen on the ice. It seemed almost trivial to admit, but she knew it clearly threw them for a loop. “I can walk you out,” Harry offered with that sinfully delicious smile.

“Coach said he was going to rebreak all of your fingers if you touch her."

“Oh, please let me walk you out,” Harry practically bounced with excitement.

She worried her eyes were going to remain in the back of her head from rolling them so much, but she supposed that would come with the territory with working for a group of boys. “Thank you, Niall. I should be okay. Just don’t let anyone laugh at me too much if I fall on my butt.”

“We don’t want you t’fall on such a pretty asset, Rookie. Are y’sure I can’t help?”

She ignored Harry, keeping her eyes on Niall. “No one will laugh,” he assured her, a smile toying at his lips as he slipped his helmet back on. “I offered, but she’s stubborn like you, Coach!”

The laughter that ensued was a good distraction for her to make her move. She unlocked the rink door and stepped onto the ice following behind Niall. Each step was carefully taken, knowing the traction of her winter boots were better than any other pair of shoes she owned but would never compare to the blade of skate.

Three little steps was about as far as she could go it seemed. Right as her footing was about to be lost on her and send her to the hard ice, a hand caught her elbow and kept her upright. “Rookie, love,” he tisked. “I told you I could help.”

She looked at him briefly knowing that his good looks got him any girl he wanted. She heard the rumors of the string of girls he had (perhaps one for every city he visited) and she knew of every bad thing that Kael had to say about him. But the kindness of him to catch her was sweet. Even she couldn’t deny that. Kael merely laughed each time she fell, it wasn’t mean spirited per se, but it was almost like he was glad she couldn’t skate. A way to be better than her.

God, she wished she had taken the hint a lot sooner.

Harry’s skates weren’t even tied yet. “Jus’ wait,” he said and knelt to lace them up. She had to imagine he rushed to get out here just knowing she wouldn’t make it across the ice.

Once tied, Harry held her elbow again and skated so effortlessly beside her barely moving as he glided alongside her. No one paid attention to her slow steps, and she could feel Harry’s grip firm but not hard on her arm. Almost sensing when she was going to misstep before she did. It made her heart skip a beat.

No. She couldn’t think like that. She wasn’t going to fall for another hockey player ever.

“M’teaching m’niece t’skate. I can teach you,” he shrugged. It wasn’t arrogant the way he said it. She was sure anyone else that knew she was in their mid-twenties (especially someone with a famous hockey player for an ex-boyfriend of eight years, and famous major league hockey coach for an uncle) would expect her to be able to skate. Instead, one of the top players in the league was at her elbow barely acknowledging that it was weird. Perhaps the vulnerability she mentioned to him and Niall really meant something to him. Or maybe she was just reading into it—which she definitely shouldn’t have been reading into it.

“It’s a real shame you won’t have that hand to play with after all, Harry,” Uncle Charlie shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Charlie, I can handle a group of boys,” she rolled her eyes again, earning a bout of laughter from the group. But she knew that Uncle Charlie was worried about Harry specifically. He was a lot like Kael. In another life, Harry would have been a weakness for her. But not anymore. She was done with hockey guys.

“M’jus’ making sure she doesn’t fall. Sad y’couldn’t teach her t’skate. Some uncle you are,” he shrugged casually.

The group laughed again, and she smirked. Charlie ignored the childish behavior of his players but rubbed his middle finger on his nose like he had an itch aimed for Harry “They’re all yours, Sweetheart. Just tell them where you want them. They’ve all been instructed to listen carefully unless they want to do suicides tomorrow at practice, so be honest if they don’t listen. Or lie if you see fit,” Uncle Charlie remarked making everyone groan. “Harry, go get your gear she needs individual pictures too.”

His eyes flickered to Niall for several seconds. Right as he released her arm, Niall now stood beside her and waited for direction. He didn’t hold her elbow like Harry did, but it was clear there was an unspoken message they shared telepathically. That little flutter in her chest made it’s appearance once more solely because Harry was kind to her about her inability to skate.

No, she wasn’t going to fall for it.

She wasn’t going to fall for the hot left wing of her uncle’s team just because he offered to teach her to skate and didn’t make fun of her because she couldn’t.

Nope. She wasn’t.

Not even a little.

Right?

The boys were decidedly sweet. Despite the fact it was like trying to wrangle a group of twenty toddlers into one spot. They sat nicely for their headshots individually, but once she tried to get them into various poses and group shots with their respective lines it proved a little more difficult. (Don’t even get her started on how the whole team shot went).

Harry stood beside her while she took pictures of everyone but him. His presence was comforting in a way she didn’t want to admit so readily. It had been less than an hour since she spoke to him. When he returned with all his gear in place, he held a small rug that the coaches often used to stand at center ice and call drills. He laid it before her feet, and she didn’t have to worry as much about falling. Niall was her test subject in front of the goal. When she wanted to get another angle, Harry scooped up the little mat and held her elbow and let her guide while he slid alongside her at a pace that was much too slow for a professional hockey player. But Harry didn’t seem to mind.

“Can I see?” He asked while the others skated around, messing around at the other end of the rink. She was now at the bench where she was safe from slipping. Harry leaned over the rail, dropping his gloves onto the wooden seat beside her. She offered her camera to him. Carefully he cradled it, like he knew it really was precious to her. Silently, he looked at the little screen. A smile grew on his face as he admired how his pictures came out. “These are awesome, Rookie.”

“Thank you,” did her cheeks feel warmer from the compliment? She smiled softly as he looked through several photos of himself. Harry Styles was lucky he didn’t have a bad side. Not that she would tell him that.

“How come y’didn’t do this for Crowe’s team?” He asked clicking through photos of his teammates.

She blinked, the smile melting from her face. “You know about me and Kael?”

“Well, yeah. S’the whole hands-off talk Coach gave us. Said you’re done with hockey players,” Harry shrugged one shoulder, his gaze focused on the lines and group shots on the screen of her camera. “Fortunately for me, I don’t consider your ex a real hockey player,” he smiled at the screen. “But I haven’t told Coach ‘bout that loophole jus’ yet.”

She snorted and shook her head. The flirty comment was cute. She could admit that. Plus, a dig at her shitty ex made her feel a little lighter. But she wasn’t going to fall for Harry’s easy-going charisma.

If she repeated it to herself enough, it would stick.

“I will not be dating real and-or imaginary hockey players,” she told him.

“At least give me a chance t’change your mind, Rookie,” he offered.

“No, thank you,” she shook her head politely. He frowned. She laughed softly. “You genuinely look down by my answer.”

“Hell yeah,” he scowled. “Y’take pretty pictures and y’wrangled this ragtag group,” he sighed almost dreamily. “And you’re absolutely beautiful t’boot.”

That made her smile, at least. He was an expert flirter. “Thank you, Harry. I appreciate that.”

“Enough t’let me take you on a date?”

“No.”

“Ugh.”

She laughed again. “Thank you for helping me around the ice,” she said graciously. “I’ll tell Uncle Charlie you were a perfect gentleman after he left.”

“Rookie, love, you’ll ruin m’reputation,” he called after her as she made her way around the rink toward the exit.

Her apartment was not in the nice part of town. To be fair, it was only just over the border from the nicer side. From her place she could see the bar she would be working at on the days she wouldn’t be at the rink. She hadn’t told Uncle Charlie about it because she knew he would be pissed if he saw where she lived. But it was the right price and honestly, the other tenants weren’t bad.

She suspected one of her neighbors on the first floor was... an entrepreneur... for his... small business. Michael was very wary of her at first, but she was lucky because he wore a hockey jersey the day, she met him, Callie’s number and name on the front and back. She hadn’t gone to the rink yet because she was getting a lot of her things and affairs settled. That evening she moved in, she got him tickets to a home game through her uncle (along with a dozen cookies to welcome herself to the building). To his credit, Michael looked weary that the tickets were fake, but the cookies were good. They weren’t special seats or anything, but they weren’t bad seats either. He knocked on her door the day after the game and it was clear she wasn’t going to have any issues with her neighbor. “That was cool. If you need anything, I got you,” he assured her with a grin. “That car you got, I’ll keep an eye on it for you when you’re not around... you’re too sweet to be living here.”

She smiled. “Thanks Michael.”

On the second floor lived an older couple. They kept to themselves, but she was sure to give them a dozen cookies as well and offered to shovel out their cars when it snowed. But once Michael saw her out there shoveling, he joined her as well. She brought a hockey stick autographed by the whole team for their grandson. She couldn’t wait to hear how he enjoyed that Christmas gift.

Her neighbor on the third floor just down the hall was Marcellus. He went by Marc and told her that he had a boyfriend and if she had an issue with that, it was too fucking bad. The previous tenant must have been a piece of work. She laughed at him, handed off her dozen cookies and shrugged. “If he breaks your heart, I have a team of hockey boys who can take him on,” she giggled.

So, Marc loved her too.

She wouldn’t be jogging around the neighborhood any time soon, but it was nice she wouldn’t have to worry about her car being stolen (although good luck to anyone who tried to get that piece of crap to start without a prayer), or getting robbed on her way into the building.

Inside her little studio apartment was a small kitchen. There was enough space for a small loveseat, a bed, and TV. She had a coffee table and a counter to sit at for breakfast. The bathroom was surprisingly spacious and modern for a rundown studio apartment building.

After a full day at the rink, she was chilly. A shower was just what she needed before she ventured into the cold again. Letting the hot water soothe her cold neck and back was so nice. While her hair air-dried, she transferred and then sifted through her pictures on her laptop. The edits she made were small. The lighting and shadows only needed to be adjusted a little. She loved the natural look of the of the players in their element.

She forwarded the photos to Charlie for approval, and he would send them to the higher ups for printing.

They look stunning, Sweetheart. Incredible job.

Grinning she looked over the photos she took of Harry again. He was by far the best-looking guy on the team (not that the others weren’t good-looking but alas). Even in the photos where you couldn’t see his pretty face, there was a presence that made him look more attractive. It was obvious he was a good player. His talent was evident in the photos, and she was proud of herself for being able to capture it.

There was a knock on her door. She padded quietly across the room, peeked through the peephole to see Marc, before she opened it. “Hi,” she smiled.

“You have to teach me hockey,” he said. “This man is obsessed, and I don’t even know what you call the ball.”

“Puck.”

“Exactly.” She laughed. He glanced around her apartment. “Your talents are wasted on this run-down place—holy hottie, who’s that?”

Her computer screen remained on Harry’s smiling individual photo. Dimples on full display and looking intense but happy. “That’s Harry Styles.”

“I think I’ll like hockey after all.”

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Listen, I have a shift I have to get to, but there’s a game on tomorrow afternoon, come over and we’ll watch it, and I’ll teach you,” she offered.

“Bring flashcards of the players. It’ll make me more interested.”

She tied the apron around her waist as he sifted through the photos. “God damn, is this what all hockey players look like?” He asked.

“Bye Marc,” she pulled his arm and pushed him toward her door. “See you tomorrow.”

The Locker Room was a local restaurant owned by Louis Tomlinson. It was a hot spot for the players to go to on off days and after a win (they refrained from going after a loss unless absolutely necessary). The fans that went were not allowed to be aggressive about the players, but after a while, they got used to seeing the players so often, it became a nice place to be themselves.

Asher and Lang were playing darts while Niall and Callie focused on a game of pool. Harry sat back sipping his beer analyzing his contacts looking for the hookup he wanted for the evening. They had curfew at midnight since there was a game tomorrow evening which left him with ample time to peruse his list, meet up with the girl, and get home by midnight before he turned into a pumpkin.

“Who’s the lucky lady tonight?” Louis asked clapping a hand on Harry’s back.

“Haven’t decided yet,” he chuckled.

“Well, when the new waitress comes over, you are not to make her uncomfortable. I already warned her.”

“I would never,” he rolled his eyes, still scanning the names.

“Uh-huh,” Louis nodded. “Of course. Tell your teammates too. She’s off limits.”

“What’s up with every new girl being off limits in our life?” Callie asked.

“Coach won’t let us date his niece and you won’t let us date the new girl,” Niall explained to Louis for clarification.

“Fortunately, it’s the same person, so you don’t have to lose out on two girls.”

Harry pulled away from his screen to admire the pretty girl he met at the rink earlier in the day. His grin grew. “Oh, Rookie, it’s you,” he cooed.

“Oh Jesus,” Louis sighed. “Watch out for that one, love,” he patted her on the back.

“So, I’ve heard,” she smiled.

“Is she ours?” Asher asked excitedly.

“As long as you don’t torture her,” Louis shrugged.

“We would never!”

“Eleanor refuses to set foot back here because of you all.”

“Hire meaner waitstaff.”

“Best of luck, love,” Louis shook his head.

“What can I get you guys?” She asked sweetly.

“Uncle Charlie doesn’t pay you enough that you have to slum it here?” Lang asked.

“I heard that!” Louis shouted.

Harry was...quite taken. From the moment he laid eyes on her. The concentration on her face as she took pictures, the way her hair was pinned up, how bundled she was. Her smile was sexy. The quips that spilt from her mouth perhaps even sexier. Harry was certain she was a dream because good things at the rink consisted of goals, interviews, and the pizza from the snack bar. Not a pretty girl with an expensive camera and his assistant coach as her uncle.

Now her hair was still pinned back, an apron tied around her waist, and the black and silver uniform as homage to his own. Harry wanted her draped in the number eleven and his name on her back ASAP.

It was cute she couldn’t skate. Cute how passionate she was on day one taking pictures. She wasn’t flustered by their rowdiness, or their annoying nature. Harry knew that she was used to hockey boys—had to be if her ex was one of the top forwards in the league (although Harry didn’t recognize that too often). He liked how she didn’t take shit from them but was still kind. She was funny, creative, and lovely.

And he only saw her in action for a short time.

But it was enough to make him put his phone away and not think about hooking up with someone tonight. His focus would be on her waiting on the team and (hopefully) getting to know her more so he could rationalize falling for someone so out of his league and someone so off limits.

“Hi Rookie, love,” Harry smiled as she approached his table. She took orders from the other four hanging around.

“Hi Harry,” she answered.

“M’happy to see you again.”

She nodded. “It’s only been a few hours, Harry.”

“S’too long t’go without seeing your pretty face,” he assured her.

She rolled her eyes, but Harry noticed how her cheeks flushed with color. “What do you want to drink?” She asked instead.

“Are you on the menu?”

“Does that work on other girls?”

“Yes.”

“It’s probably because of the hockey thing you have going on. I promise it wouldn’t work if you weren’t a professional,” she shrugged.

“Good thing m’very professional,” he continued, his voice flirty.

“I’m putting down whatever the other guys said,” she shook her head and headed off to get the drinks.

“Harry, don’t bother her. Coach said she’s off-limits,” Niall reminded him while Callie took his shot.

“Yeah, she doesn’t strike me as one-night-stand material,” Asher murmured focusing on his dart going directly into the board.

“Mmm,” Harry sighed. In the brief interaction he had with her, he kind of figured that too. In fact, given she had been with Crowe for nearly a decade, he imagined she didn’t have too much experience dating other than her ex. Not that he would force her—or any woman. Like he said they all knew what they signed up for. Harry wasn’t great at the whole relationship thing. He was constantly traveling with the team. Practice most days, games most nights. Relationships were often one-sided and tiresome. It wasn’t fair to expect someone to wait for five months of the year to have a relationship.

One-night stands were better for him.

But he could at least ask her if she was willing to try him out. God, knew he wanted to try her out the second he looked at her.

“Your drinks,” she announced setting them on Harry’s table. He eyed her as she set the drinks down from the little tray in her arm. “Do you guys want food?” She asked.

“Are you on the menu now?”

“Jesus Christ,” Lang shook his head.

“You’re embarrassing us, Styles,” Callie sighed.

“Chicken wings, you said?” She asked scribbling on the pad of paper in her hand. “Great choice. Do you want anything else?” Harry smiled, opened his mouth to speak but she turned immediately. “Not you,” she said over her shoulder and sauntered over to the pool table. Lang and Asher chuckled to themselves at Harry’s strike out.

“You’re our hero, Sweetheart,” Asher sighed dreamily.

When Harry was on the ice there were zero thoughts of anything but slicing up the ice with the blade of his skate. He thought about the opponent across from him. The puck sliding across the ice and into the net. Protecting Niall in goal if anyone dared to lay a hand on him.

But now when they had timeouts, or when he was waiting for the puck to come up to him, he saw the pretty girl with her camera lens pressed to the glass, or in the cut out for the press. Her little badge draped around her neck looked so cute. Everything about her was cute and dainty.

Crowe was a fucking idiot to let her go.

Which made him wonder why he chose to break up with someone so pretty and witty. Creative as well.

Fuck. Coach was going to kill him.

But she really stood her ground. In the month that she had been part of the team, she seemed damn near impervious to Harry’s flirting. Harry worked hard to make her blush (which he could see was easy) but it took a lot to make her speechless. It was obvious Crowe didn’t treat her well. It seemed like Harry’s attention to her was the only time she had been shown affection. That alone pissed him off and made him hate him more. It was like she had never been told how pretty she was. Even when Harry wasn’t actively flirting with her, when he complimented her hair or how her pictures came out, she seemed completely off-guard.

What a fucking dick.

Harry once more wondered why they broke up. He still hadn’t figured it out. There was no way she wasn’t the perfect girlfriend. Especially for a hockey player. For all the reasons Harry didn’t date, she knew precisely what she was getting into and did it anyway. But she doted on his teammates as if she was dating all of them (there was no other way to describe it.) She always had extra tape for sticks. She walked with her cross body filled with supplies for hangovers, minor injuries, and the like. When she waited on them at Louis’ place, she knew their orders and had them ready almost like clockwork for when they arrived.

“Styles!” Coach Wheeler called. “If you’re not going to practice, you can sit out!” He shouted.

Shaking his head, Harry tried to rid his mind of the team’s photographer. The coach’s niece. His pretty waitress.

The star of all his dreams as of late.

“Sweetheart, where do you want us?!” Lang called.

She was on the bench, waiting to take some gameday photos. Today she was wearing skates, which made Harry nervous. He knew if she went down, she would protect her precious camera and he didn’t blame her, but it he hated the thought of her getting hurt. “Just by the—” She sighed, closing her eyes mid-sentence and she put her phone to her ear. “Stop fucking calling,” she snapped and then put her phone in her pocket again. “By the goal,” she cleared her throat.

The team stared at her. “Do you have a stalker, babe?” Asher asked.

“No,” she snorted and looked at her camera. She took a test shot of the empty net to make sure everything was set. She stepped tentatively onto the ice, more graceful than the last time she did. But Harry glided over to her quickly. He didn’t touch her, but he was more than ready to catch her. She ignored his presence, not in a mean way at all. Not an ounce of her was mean. Which is why it was so surprising she had that much malice in her voice on the phone.

“Everything okay, Sweetheart?” Charlie asked.

“Yup,” she popped the ‘puh’ sound.

She slid forward very carefully. “S’kind of shooting yourself in the foot here, Rookie. Figure skates have a better blade for beginners. S’harder t’skate on hockey skates for what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I was always told a hockey blade was thicker, so it was better.”

Harry shrugged. “S’not really that big of a deal in m’opinion. Figure skates have a longer blade, better for y’balance. Charlie set y’up with those?” She shook her head.

“No,” her voice was quiet.

“You bought hockey skates on your own?”

“Can you go stand with your team?” She asked dodging his question. He frowned.

“Yeah, sorry, Rookie, love,” he skated off but whistled at his younger teammate, Garrett, the third string forward for his position. Harry tilted his head in her direction and Garrett went over to her, standing way too far away in case she did fall.

“Who got her the skates?” He mumbled to Charlie. He shrugged.

“Not sure. Probably Kael. I would imagine he got a deal from his sponsors.”

God Harry hated him.

Mila was someone he saw on a semi-regular basis. Which meant she knew the drill. After their win, they would do their thing. Harry would stay until she fell asleep—because he wasn’t an asshole; and he wasn’t too proud to admit that he liked cuddling. Even if it was only for a little while—and he would send a text the next day to make sure she felt okay. There was no breakfast, no awkward small talk. Just sex. There was no setup to get feelings hurt or hearts broken. Harry was too busy for a girlfriend, and he would make for a shitty boyfriend.

It was cold when he left her place, and he blew into his hands for warmth when he as he headed to his car. There was a text on his phone from an unknown number.

Thought you would want to see the picture that’s on the front page of the sports section for tomorrow :) There was an impressive picture of Harry’s game winning goal. It wasn’t time sensitive but it was the one that broke the tie. The rest of the team held off the offensive line for the remaining ten minutes of the game.

Thanks, Rookie. I’m going to send it to Mum. She’ll print it for the fridge. How’d you get my number?

Kian gave it to me. Is that alright?

Who?

Callie 🙄 You should really learn your friends’ names. Is it okay I have your number?

Of course it’s alright. Just surprised YOU asked for it. Didn’t know you would want to talk to me so bad. You could have asked me yourself.

Sorry, I think have the wrong number.

He chuckled to himself while his car warmed up. The seat heater was heaven on his stiff muscles. Harry liked the cold—he had to being a hockey player. But it was her funny wit that warmed him from the inside out. Are you all still at Louis’?

Yes. Niall and Noah are about to break the air hockey machine.

Who?

🙄 Asher. Sorry. Jesus.

I’ll be right there, Rookie.

The next time the team won, Harry looked at the message from Layla asking if he wanted to come over to celebrate. He didn’t really want to. The guys were headed home because they had an early flight and there was no celebrating. Which meant that the pretty girl he wanted to celebrate with wasn’t going to be out and about either. She wouldn’t be doting on his drunk teammates. Wouldn’t be stopping their stupid fights about who’s turn it was to play her in darts. She wouldn’t be making sure they all made it home safely in the Ubers she ordered.

But Harry couldn’t just hang out with her either. There was no reason. She was basically his teammate and he couldn’t figure why she was so guarded. At least not beyond whatever it was she was dealing with Crowe.

“Is he still calling?” Niall asked looking at her phone the bench while she looked at her camera. Her hair always fell so perfectly as she watched the screen.

“Who?” Lang asked.

She sighed. “It’s just Kael.”

“Why?” Callie asked.

She shrugged. “I would have to answer to find out. Which is the last thing I want to do. I need a new phone number; I just haven’t gotten around to it. My schedule conflicts with most regular business hours so I could go to the store.”

“Charlie, you can’t spare her to give her a day off?” Asher asked.

Her uncle rolled his eyes, flipped him off, and continued practicing with the second and third stringers.

Harry sat beside her and peeked over her shoulder at her photos. “Do y’have any non-hockey photos?” She nodded and picked up her phone that was still showing Crowe blowing up her phone with calls and texts. “Why don’t y’block him, Rookie?” She swiped his notification away and she opened the web browser. It was currently on a recipe for carrot cake cupcakes. “Those look good,” he smiled.

She smirked. “It’s Ray’s birthday next week. Carrot cake is his favorite. Figured I’d make you all cupcakes.”

Harry thought she was too sweet for him. Someone with a lineup of women didn’t deserve her sweetness. Someone who was meeting Arya at her place after practice because he could didn’t get a girl like her. Him meeting Nyla after tomorrow’s away game three states away didn’t get someone like the pretty photographer.

Kael’s name kept popping up. “Y’probably never had t’block anybody before,” Harry said quietly. “D’you know how?” He hoped he didn’t sound condescending. But he had the unfortunate pleasure of blocking someone every now and again.

“I know how,” she laughed softly. “It’s just... with Kael, it’s likely to be a thing, you know?” She shrugged. “It’s easier to ignore him.”

“It probably gives him hope,” Harry frowned.

She held out her phone to him and shrugged. “That’s not my problem. I’ll see him in a couple weeks when we’re up North,” she reminded him. “Hopefully by then he’ll get the message; or I’ll have to talk to him in person.”

Harry took her phone and admired the portfolio of photos she displayed for him. The website was all black making her images pop. She was so talented. There were babies and weddings. There were family portraits and just general landscape shots. All of differing but equal beauty and perfection. Natural. Lovely.

Harry swiped away Kael’s name again and clicked on the menu item of the about section.

Two side by side pictures of the pretty girl next to him were on the screen. One with the camera in front of her eye, the other a sweet smile on her face camera in front of her like a prop. Behind the Lens... Thank you for browsing. If you like what you see, I’d be happy to quote you for any need. I have experience in just about any area of photographing. Thank you for letting me part of you day!

Too sweet for someone who was going to never be able to settle down because of his job. No matter how much he wished she could be part of his day.

Kael’s stupid name popped up again. Without another rational thought, Harry answered the call, pressed the phone to his ear, and skated off knowing she couldn’t go after him.

“Finally, baby,” Kael groaned.

“STYLES HOW DARE YOU!” She screamed.

“Crowe, nice t’hear from you.”

“Who the fuck is this?” He growled.

“HARRY!” She was on the ice in her ever-present boots. They weren’t great for walking on ice. She slipped immediately but Lang was right nearby to help her up. Harry was going to feel guilty about that for ages.

“None of your business,” he shook his head. “She doesn’t want y’calling anymore.”

“What the fuck? Put her on the phone!”

“No,” Harry said defiantly. “She doesn’t want t’talk t’you. Ever. Stop calling y’piece of shit.”

Lang looked at Harry wildly as he glided with the pretty girl clutching to his arm. She smacked Harry multiple times on the arm and chest making the coaches laugh. “Give me the phone!” She snapped.

“Give her the phone!” He repeated. “Listen to her!”

“No, y’don’t deserve her,” Harry stepped out of her reach where she lost her balance as she lunged for him. She fell again catching her hands. Thank God she didn’t have her camera. Lang helped her to her feet again and Harry felt a wave of guilt wash over him again. “Y’didn’t appreciate her, her talent, or anything. Y’didn’t get her the right skates, and I don’t know what y’did t’piss her off so bad, but y’not getting her back,” Harry said it so casually. But every word was meant for her.

“Is that you, Styles?” Crowe snarled.

“Bye Crowe, see you in a month!” He said cheerily handing the phone off to her.

She nearly fell again despite holding onto Lang. “What the hell, Harry!”

“I got rid of him,” he shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

Her face was beat red with embarrassment. Her hands had to be cold from the fall. But she still looked adorable as always. Even with a sour expression, she was sweet. Pretty beyond belief. Wide eyes, soft skin, even her nose was cute. She glared at him and spun on her heel. “Get me away from him,” she snapped.

Harry sighed, feeling bummed he pissed her off too much. Lang shook his head at Harry as he helped her back to the bench. She packed up her things and left.

But he couldn’t help but notice that her phone had stopped ringing.

She was still mad at him a week later. If she ignored his flirting before, this was an entire new level. She hardly acknowledged his presence. He missed her. In a weird way. He enjoyed bugging her, but perhaps it went to far. It was an invasion of her personal life that he wasn’t privy to, and he didn’t really have any right to deal with her ex-boyfriend.

That didn’t mean anything he said wasn’t anything but the truth.

“Hey Rookie,” he said as she entered the room to get their drink orders for the evening.

“Hi everybody,” she grinned at everyone in turn and glared at Harry.

“Boy you pissed her off,” Niall chuckled.

He shrugged. “Worth it,” because it was. He hated Kael before, he hoped he got the clue.

“You know she had to talk to him, right?” Callie asked. Harry’s head snapped up from his phone screen looking at his contacts once more. Harry wasn’t sure he could pinpoint it exactly but his evenings with the women in his phone were leaving him less and less fulfilled. He wasn’t looking for any grand pronouncements of love. That wasn’t his thing. But the idea of spending the evening with someone didn’t give him the same excitement as it used to.

It was probably the day he met her. But it was sinking in more over the week she had barely spoken to him. “What do y’mean?” He frowned.

“Crowe? She had to talk to him after that stunt you pulled.”

Harry glowered at the table. “Why?”

“Because he wouldn’t stop blowing up her phone and he was threatening to come to her if she didn’t just talk to him. Why do you think she didn’t come with us on the plane the next day?”

Harry felt like a jerk. “Oh.”

“She hates you,” Asher reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. “She could have told one of us,” he mumbled. Harry would have sat outside her apartment waiting for him.

“I don’t know if you noticed Harry, but she’s pretty private,” Niall sighed leaning on his pool stick. “I know you meant well, but it kind of fucked up her day.”

Harry pouted. He met her gaze as she brought their drinks out.

And if she spilled Harry’s on him, well, he supposed he deserved that.

Harry was a great hockey player, a great friend. A great brother and son. Not to toot his own horn but he thought he truly was the World’s Best Uncle like it said on the T-shirt Gemma had got him when she told him she was pregnant. He was still pretty humble all things considered; always looking to improve. Coach Wheeler was one of his favorite mentors (right after his mum) and he strived to do better by them.

He was bad at Chemistry in school. He wasn’t good at Sudoku. Most recently he felt like he was bad at having sex. The thing he had going with the women he knew didn’t seem to be working for him the way it used to. There was an awkwardness to the hookups when he left. He wasn’t mentally present in the moment.

Harry was pretty certain he would be a shitty boyfriend.

He needed her forgiveness, or the other remaining areas of his life were going to get worse too.

Most notably, he was shit in practice. He worried he was going to be demoted to second string.

Harry arrived early to practice, putting goals in the net two hours before everyone else arrived. He would have to pay to resurface the ice twenty minutes before practice officially started. But he hoped that she was going to show up early with her carrot cake cupcakes. He anticipated she would be just one short. Which Harry deserved on top of everything else too.

Fortunately, she did arrive early.

“Hey,” he waved.

She ignored him, set the cupcakes down on the bench and pulled out her camera. She fiddled with it, wiping the lens off with a cloth, and took some test shots of the ice.

“Rookie, love,” he sighed and skated over to the bench.

“Yes, Mr. Styles? Can I help you?”

“C’mon, Rookie, I’m sorry,” he frowned. “I was just trying to help.”

She rolled her eyes and ignored him. “You must get whatever you want all the time.”

He frowned. “No, I don’t actually,” although from her perspective he could see what she meant.

“Well, me either, so if I’m going to be miserable. So are you.”

He snorted, shook his head. He stepped off the ice and sat on the bench beside her. “I’m sorry, Bunny. Really. I hated that he was bothering you. I didn’t mean t’make it worse, honest. I would have done the same for m’sister or any one of the guys’ girls.”

“I am an adult Harry. I’m independent and I can handle my own shit. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I understand. M’sorry, really. I won’t do it again. But m’sick of y’being mad at me. S’been no fun this week without skating you around, grossly overtipping you jus’ so you’ll spend extra time with us,” he smiled shyly at her.

She sucked her lip into her mouth. For a moment she looked at her lap, obviously thinking something over. “How’d you know he bought me the wrong skates?” Her voice was quiet.

Harry blinked wondering how long she had that question locked and loaded. He shrugged. “I asked Charlie. He said he didn’t. So, I assumed it had to be him.”

She sighed and looked up. “He said figure skates would make me look like try-hard. Hockey skates would make me look more like I belonged on his arm,” she explained. “I didn’t know. I would have...” she shook her head. “It was eye-opening when you said that, and it hurt... and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry too.”

Harry sighed with relief. “You don’t have t’apologize,” he promised. “I’m sorry. Seriously.”

“Apology accepted.”

Harry grabbed her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Thanks Bunny.”

She wrinkled her nose at him in distaste. “I don’t like Bunny.”

“Oh...” his smile grew by the second. “Y’don’t Rookie, love?” He chuckled standing up and getting back on the ice. “Y’probably shouldn’t have told me that,” he winked and skated off.

“There’s no cupcake for you!” She called.

“That’s okay, Bunny!” He shouted back with a grin and sank a shot from half-ice.

Maybe Harry would be a shitty boyfriend, but he was going to be her best friend instead.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @boopookie @babegoals @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @mads3502

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl

@emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #hockey!harry styles #pucking rookie

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lex-the-flex · 8 months ago

Text

Come Back to Me

Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning(s): Basically porn with little plot. MEGA FLUFF, MEGA ANGST, MAJOR SADNESS + talks of character death, SMUT – 18+ oral (f! receiving), and precious aftercare + pillow talk.

A/N: No thoughts, just grieving smut with Jace. This CHOKEHOLD this character has on me and we’re only one episode into Season 2. I don’t know if I’ll continue to write for Jace, just wanted to share this idea.

He couldn't breathe no matter how hard he tried. The air just refused to enter and fill his lungs as the overwhelming scents of salt and snow continue to remain in his crimson cloak.

You somehow manage to take away all the pain and sadness of grief just by standing beside him. Joining Jacaerys Velaryon on the balcony of your shared room, he just can’t wrap his mind around a calm state amidst the chaos. Briefly touching his shoulder, a long awaited sigh of relief escapes his lips.

“You okay?” You ask.

“I’m fine.” He lies, turning to face you.

Leaning his forehead against your own, the overpowering scent of sea salt and the faint smell of lilies lingers on your skin.

Wrapping his arms around your frame, Jace holds you tight, never wanting to let go. Relishing in your presence, an unwelcome wave of emotions crosses over Jace. Something wild, yet filled with sadness takes over him almost instantly. However, instead of shedding tears, he acts on the other side of what he’s feeling. Jace slowly guides his lips against your earlobe, nipping at the sensitive skin.

“You truly are my guiding light in this world, Y/N. You are the one that I was thinking about when I was riding Bermax home. To have my lips on yours and my thoughts at the door while being lost in you. I want to fuck you until you scream so the whole Palace can hear. To let them know you’re mine.” Jace explains, pulling you closer.

Feeling your breath hitching in the back of your throat, Jace nibbles on your neck, and you surround your arms around his broad shoulders. Picking you up in a swift motion, Jace captures his lips on yours before walking back into the dark room.

Collapsing with the large desk, Jace gently sits you down, his dark brown orbs staring into your own, eager with lust.

“Enlighten me, my Prince. Let me know what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours.” You say, gasping as Jace unties the sash of your trousers.

Smirking in delight, Jace carefully undos the straps of your heels, and slides your trousers down your legs. Basking in your body, his once boyish eyes light up with a devilish intent.

“By the Gods… so sweet for me.” He states.

Running a series of hungry kisses along your legs, you uncontrollably shiver at the sensation. Gripping your hips in his fingers, Jace teases yours throbbing folds with his tongue, knowing how to get you numb.

“That’s my girl.” Jace whispers into your skin.

Closing his mouth around your entrance, Jace props your leg around his shoulder. Swirling his tongue past your opening, a ragged moan escapes your lips, and you run your fingers through his dark locks. Feeling your pulse rise in your fingertips, a strong growl emanates from Jace’s chest, allowing his hunger for your lust to break the very windows of the room.

Leaning your head back, multiple multicolored stars fill the darkness behind your closed lids. Briefly moving your hips against the wooden table, a tingling sensation starts to rise in your core, signaling that you’re reaching your end.

“Jace, please. I can’t…” You beg, scrunching Jace’s dark curls in your fingers.

Reaching up to cup your breast, Jace continues to venture deeper inside of you, determined to taste every inch of you. Suddenly, your legs spasm and you quickly reach your end.

“…Jacaerys…!” You gasp, not caring if anyone hears you.

Jace’s grip around your hips loosens and he crawls up your body, cocooning your shaking form in his arms. Burying your face in his neck, the collective scents of Vermax, water lilies, and the vast ocean being a wonderful distraction from the events going on outside your room.

Gazing at Jace, the two of you erupt in a small moment of laughter and delightful smiles that felt long overdue. Running your fingers through Jace’s locks, you bring his chin up to face you.

“I love you, Jace. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” You address, tracing the outline of his strong face.

“And I you.” He vows, covering you with his cloak.

a/n pt. two ~ oml this man.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon season 2 #house of the dragon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #hotd jacaerys #prince jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys valaryon x reader #jacaerys x you #jacareys x y/n #jacareys fic #jacareys velaryon smut #harry collett #george rr martin #game of thrones

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ptergwen · 1 month ago

Note

hi ! i had a dream like this so idk if its too specific or anything hut could u write a fluff/angst about reader being in a beach holiday with family/peter, theyre at the beach swimming and being all cute underwater and stuff- peter tries to hold/grab reader and accidentally hurts them bc of his super strength. theyre mad at him for a bit but they make up that night with heaps of fluff, cuddles, words of affirmation-ect. sorry if thats dumb fhdgdgf thank youuu <33

a boy who's jacked and kind

w/c: 1,109

warnings: a very sorry and sad peter, like two swears

a/n: peep the sabrina reference hehe i had a lot of fun with this one! decided to make it a beach day with friends, i hope that's okay & you enjoy <3

"marco!"

"polo!"

you and your friends scatter around the ocean while peter tries to catch you. you're at the beach for the day, which is exciting because you don't get to go often living in the city. peter pushes through the water with his eyes closed, hands outstretched in front of him. if he catches one of you, he wins.

"marco!"

peter is getting closer to you and ned. mj is the farthest away, deeper into the ocean. she silently signals for the two of you to swim towards her.

"polo!"

you all shout in unison. ned wades through the water frantically, mj continuing to swim in the opposite direction. you're not as quick to pick up on her guidance. you won't be able to make it to the two of them without peter catching you, so you keep swimming the other way.

"marco!"

"polo!"

ned and mj sound kind of far, but you seem to be close. peter follows your voice with a smirk, eyes still squeezed shut.

"marco!"

you can hear peter getting close from behind you.

"polo!"

you look behind your shoulder to see peter nearing you.

"go, y/n!" mj shouts. "run!" ned echoes.

"marco!"

you can't help but let out a giggle as peter gets closer and closer. you leave the water and start running on the wet sand, your boyfriend right on your trail.

"polo!"

peter tackles you from behind, pushing you down and landing beside you. you squeal and land in the sand, hard. it knocks the wind out of you. peter laughs softly and rolls on top of you.

"i win."

your lip quivers a bit, tears pricking your eyes reflexively from the pain of the fall. peter's cocky demeanor instantly changes, going into concerned boyfriend mode.

"baby, what's wrong?"

he catches a stray tear with his thumb, his lips forming a frown.

"why're you crying?"

peter's thumb caresses your cheek. you shoo his hand away.

"i’m not, that just fuckin' hurt. can you get off me?"

peter rolls off of you, watching you get to your feet with furrowed brows.

"oh no, baby, i'm sorry. i just got caught up in the game... i didn't realize how hard i pushed you."

"you have super strength, peter."

you brush the sand off yourself, sniffing back a mixture of salt water and snot. peter's voice quiets.

"sometimes i forget."

"yeah, i know. it's fine."

"but i feel bad." peter stands up. "are you okay?"

he reaches for your hand. you shrug and pull it away, crossing your arms over your chest.

"i'm fine, pete. just gimme a little while."

mj and ned meet you and peter on the sand. they form a circle with you, peter staying back. his eyes remain fixed on you, filled with worry.

"what happened, you let penis parker win? i thought we had a plan," mj jokes. "yeah, why'd you go rogue? we were supposed to stick together," ned agrees.

"i went the other way 'cause i wasn't gonna get to you guys fast enough, then peter tackled me."

their gazes shift over to peter, who sheepishly scratches the back of his neck.

"dude!" ned punches peter's shoulder playfully. "major foul."

"it was an accident," peter mumbles, rubbing his shoulder.

"sure it was," mj deadpans.

peter is looking at you again, but you avoid looking at him. mj picks up on the tension between the two of you.

"hey, you good?"

"i'm kinda annoyed at peter. it hurt when he pushed me. i know he didn't mean to, but still, you know?"

"what a dumbass. come on, let's go get ice creams or something."

you give mj a half smile, throwing an arm around her shoulders. mj flips peter off as you two pass by him. ned starts yapping to peter about building the perfect sandcastle, but he doesn't listen. he's too distracted by his guilt over hurting you.

you're sleeping over at peter's later that night. you'd gotten back from the beach a little while ago, and nothing sounds better than cuddling up in bed with him. he had been trying to give you space since the tackling incident, careful not to be too touchy out of fear of hurting you again.

you feel bad for being kind of cold to him. even though you were upset in the moment, you got over it. you miss him being his usual touchy self. it's peter who's been choosing to distance himself.

peter lets you shower first, then he takes one. he finds you waiting on his bed after. you're wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of boxers.

"c'mere, i wanna cuddle."

"you sure?"

"of course. why wouldn't i be?"

"i just wanna make sure you have enough space. y'know, after earlier."

you groan.

"i’m serious, y/n. i hate that i hurt you."

"peter," you stand up.

"and i’m sorry. really, really sorry. i’m never gonna let anything like that happen ever again, okay? i wasn't thinking."

"i know, peter. accident's happen, baby."

your arms circle around peter's shirtless torso. he doesn't trust himself to hold you just yet, so he keeps his arms at his sides.

"just because it was an accident doesn't make it okay."

you take peter's arms yourself and wrap them around you. his doe eyes meet yours. you hold his gaze reassuringly, an arm around his neck and a hand cupping his cheek.

"i like that you have super strength."

"you do?"

"yeah. it makes me feel safe, knowing you can always protect me. plus, you've got big arms. that's hot."

peter chuckles, perking up at that.

"sometimes you can't help how strong you are. i get it, pete. it's not your fault."

you nudge peter's nose with yours. peter moves in closer to you, letting out a sigh of relief. he kisses your forehead, lips lingering there for a moment.

"thank you. i love you."

"i love you, too."

you leave a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

"sorry i was kinda mean to you earlier. it was just my first reaction."

"no, no. it's okay, baby. i’m the only one who should be sorry."

"stop apologizing. you don't have to be sorry anymore."

"but i am. i’m still really sorry i-"

you shove at peter's chest, making him fall backwards onto the bed, mimicking the way he tackled you earlier. you straddle his lap and take his face in your hands, giggling. peter carefully holds you on top of him by your sides. you lean forward so you're face to face.

"i forgive you."

you connect yours and peter's lips. he happily kisses you back, smiling into it.

tags (old taglist y'all sorry, gotta make a new form!):

@idkeverythingistakennn @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @mystic-writings @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @elllebutnotwoods @magicalxdaydream @tayyx @parkerdadda @valluvsu @ronweasleysslut @peterficrecs @winchestersgirl222 @sunf1ower-vol6 @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @niktwazny303 @marvelgurl @thismessymasterpiece @alina02 @sapphic_romanoff @itsjanedeluca @lomlbuckyy @prancerrparkerr @urfayevorite @getwellsoontana

#peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic

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puck-luck · 3 months ago

Note

luke x older reader anon again! congrats on 1k! submitting the same request, with hearts and prompt 25 🫶🏻

warnings: unprotected p in v, age gap (not major.), religious themes & motifs, pining, childhood friends to lovers vibes, best friend's brother ofc, jealousy, occasionally insecure statements from luke, really just the sweetest sex you can imagine. i LOVED writing this. hence... the length.

WC: 4,351

You’ve been friends with the Hughes boys as long as you can remember. The first time you met Quinn, it was during your first pee-wee skate.

Your dad was a big hockey fan, so he wanted to teach you how to skate. The debate had been between figure skating and hockey– your mom loved gymnastics, dance, and figure skating, having been an artistic athlete herself. Your dad wanted you to skate regardless, but hockey felt more suited for your talents. You were a competitive child– and territorial over your toys– so your dad thought it would translate well into a hockey environment.

He took you to the Olympics in Salt Lake when you were three years old. You went to see figure skating and two of the United States hockey games– one for the men and one for the women. To your dad, it wasn’t a surprise how your eyes grew into saucers when you watched your first live hockey game.

He’d enrolled you in peewee skate the following week. There were no girls-only leagues, so you were put into a coed league. Quinn was in the same league. You became very fast friends– you liked to talk, your new little buddy liked to listen, and then you finally got him out of his shell midway through the season and your friendship was fully cemented. Actually, the second you learned his last name was Hughes– like Sarah Hughes, who won the Olympic Gold in single’s figure skating when you were in Utah– he was stuck with you. Just because you’d preferred hockey didn’t mean you didn’t love ice skating, too. It just wasn’t your passion.

You and Quinn stayed in touch after that peewee hockey season, enrolling in the same league and requesting to be on the same team until you both graduated into the boys- and girls-only leagues. You still remained friends, staying in contact as best you could when he moved to Toronto. You’d send letters back and forth and you became a pro at interpreting Quinn’s boyishly terrible handwriting. He’d tell you about his brothers, his parents, his school, and his hockey teams. You’d keep him updated on home, but then it stopped being home to Quinn. Soon enough, you were only talking about hockey and family. ‘Did you see that Crosby won the Hart Trophy?’ ‘Yeah! Ovi got the Calder though, so we’re still on even playing field. Canadian boy.’ ‘Hey, Ovi is Russian. Choose a real American and get back to me.’

It wasn’t long until you secured an invitation to visit the Hughes during the summer. You and your family went up to Toronto to visit them and you got to play with the Hughes boys for a whole week. It was so much fun, so the next summer, you begged to invite them to your place for a week.

The tradition continued for years, alternating houses and hometowns. You and Quinn both applied to Michigan– he played hockey, you did not. You were a good player, but you’re more of a beer league girl. You weren’t recruited to play college hockey– which, for a while, you thought was weird, because there are so few female hockey players in America. You’re hoping that your lack of recruitment means that there are hundreds of amazing women who are better than you at the sport, and that helped you accept your fate. After all, Quinn would sometimes bring you to the rink when it was empty. You’d get to play for a little while– and it was nice, in college, to have someone who knew you so well.

A lot of people assumed that you and Quinn were together, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Quinn was like your brother. There was that weird month when you were thirteen and you’d gone to visit him over the summer and you’d thought, maybe… but it turned out that you were just thirteen and confused because of your rampant hormones and puberty. Quinn is just your friend, your best friend.

All of the brothers were pretty off-limits. You’d seen the way girls had started flirting with Jack as he’d entered his teens. You’re able to admit that he’s a cute boy. Luke was an absolute sweetheart, always trying to play with Quinn (and, by extension, you) as you’d grown up. You felt so fond of Luke in a ‘look at how precious he is, I need to protect him’ sort of way.

And then, last night at the lake house, he’d helped you line up a shot in pool and kept his hand on the small of your back when you bent over the table, and your mind had been spinning ever since.

You can’t tell Quinn, obviously. That’s his baby brother. You’re not even sure how you feel about it– Luke’s always been your little buddy. Now, he’s over half a foot taller than you, so he’s not so little anymore. Still– he’s four years younger than you and Quinn. It’s the equivalent of a freshman hooking up with a senior and you feel icky.

Regardless, you can’t keep your eyes off of him. He likes to twirl his fork between his fingers when he’s done eating dinner. He’ll spread his legs and sit forward when he’s playing video games with his brothers. An absent-minded, crooked smile falls on his mouth every time he’s only half-listening to you or the other boys. It’s paired with a look in his eyes that you can only describe as warm and content. In twenty-four hours, you’ve noticed more things about Luke than you’ve ever seen before.

He’s grown up. It’s still a little weird to you, but he’s 21. You’re still 24, even though your 25th birthday is slowly creeping forward. You find yourself justifying the three year age gap, persuading yourself that it’s fine to look at Luke like that, but then you catch yourself and look away. You’re pushing the idea out of your brain.

But he’s goofy, and cute, and so sweet. He’s the same Luke as always, but you’re seeing him in a brand new way.

You’re able to keep yourself at bay for over a week. The boys throw a party and invite some girls over. Normally, you’re not jealous. You’re calm. You don’t care.

Across the room, there’s a girl flirting with Luke. She’s got a hand on his arm and you’re nursing a drink, seeing red. You’re using Jack as a shield, but you’re still able to look over his shoulder. You think you’re being slick, but it turns out… you’re not.

“What are you looking at?” Jack laughs, tilting his head at you exaggeratedly before turning.

Unfortunately, you know you’ve been found out. There’s only one thing that would have you glowering in such a way. Nothing else in sight is nearly as interesting as Luke and the girl beside him. Jack clocks it right away.

He turns back to you with a tight, knowing smile, like he’s trying to hold back laughter. He pushes his tongue into his cheek and quirks his eyebrows at you.

“Interesting,” Jack says, swirling his drink in his solo cup and then bringing the rim to his mouth. He maintains eye contact as he sips.

You pop the bottom of the cup, making the drink splash into Jack’s face. “Fuck off.”

He wipes his mouth and crosses his arms, cradling the drink in the pocket of his elbow. “You and little Lukey?”

You grind your teeth and glare at him in the most menacing way you can. Jack has known you for too long to be intimidated by your glares. He also never really cared that much in the first place– he’s too shit-eating to be concerned about the repercussions of his words.

Jack smirks some more. “Don’t worry,” he says, popping his jaw like he’s turning a piece of gum over in his mouth. “Your secret is safe with me.”

You clench your teeth and continue glaring. You suck your cheeks in and bite down on the inside of your mouth, lips curling with annoyance.

“You know, he wouldn’t mind if you went over there and staked your claim,” Jack says with a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t think he’d be upset at all.”

“Fuck off,” you repeat again.

“C’mon, Y/N.” Jack pushes your shoulder lightly, jokingly. “You’re being obvious.”

“Quinn’ll kill me. And– it’s Luke, Jack.”

“So what? It’s not weird. We all grew up together. We’re all around the same age. It’s not a big deal. He’s had a crush on you forever.”

“It’s different,” you sing-song. “He’s younger than me.”

“Let’s go, Cougar,” Jack teases, reaching up to high-five you.

You don’t take it, instead deciding to punch his stomach.

Jack doubles over like you actually wounded him, but straightens up smiling. “You oughta go make him jealous.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“Dude, I’m serious. Let’s go flirt with Trevor or something. Someone who Luke thinks you’re better than– I guarantee he’ll be over here in a second.”

Jack actually tugs you toward Trevor and explains the plan before you can even get a word in. So much for keeping your secret. Trevor, to his credit, is a very willing subject. He keeps a hand on your waist during the whole conversation and you do your best to ignore the niggling desire to look over your shoulder at Luke.

Turns out, you should’ve been worried about Quinn.

“Get your hands off her, Zegras,” Quinn snaps, pushing Trevor’s hand off of your waist and stepping between you. “You’re not allowed to fuck my friend.”

If that’s how he feels about one of his friends touching you, then you feel a bit faint at the idea of Quinn’s reaction to Luke getting together with you. That might seal the deal– you really can’t fuck Luke.

“I’m not fucking her,” Trevor says. “We’re working an angle here, Quinn.”

Quinn scoffs. “Yeah? What angle is that, Trevor?”

“We’re trying to make Luke jealous, hello?” Trevor says like it’s obvious.

“Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face in your hands. “Trevor, you fucking moron.”

“What?” Quinn demands, but his look turns into sheer bewilderment. “You’re doing this for Luke?”

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, stomping away.

Trevor, somehow, is free to follow after you. Quinn hasn’t stepped in to stop him. You wish he would. He’s probably too confused. “This is good,” he says. “He’s definitely going to see us going upstairs together. Hold my hand.”

“No.”

“Dude, it was working. Luke was looking over at us the whole time.”

“I don’t care, Trevor.”

“Don’t you want him?”

“Not like that,” you hiss between your teeth. “I don’t want to make Luke jealous. I want him to come to me because he wants to, okay? Go downstairs. I don’t want to be with you right now.”

Trevor holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright. I’ll go. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You disappear into your bedroom, changing into pajamas and climbing into bed. It’s nice to have your own bedroom in the lake house that Jack and Quinn bought with their NHL salaries, but tonight it’s bittersweet to be able to hear the party going on as you lay in bed. It’s not at all like when you fall asleep during a holiday party and your parents put you to bed, and you can still hear the laughter of the guests in your dreams. Now each bout of laughter reminds you of her, the girl whose hand was on Luke like she already owned him, and you wonder if he’s making her giggle with his stupid corny jokes.

God, last week you didn’t even like Luke. Now you’re burning with jealousy– or maybe it’s the fires from Hell, because you’ve got a completely inappropriate crush on your best friend’s little brother. You can never come back to the lake house like this, at least not until you’ve gotten over this shit. Why are you so affected? It’s Luke, for fuck’s sake.

It’s Luke again when someone comes knocking at your door. You thought it would be Quinn, ready to chew you out or question you extensively about this crush. To your surprise, the problem himself appears.

“You okay?” Luke asks, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. His silhouette is burly and big and you have to close your eyes to shake the pang of emotion that penetrates your chest.

“Just tired,” you reply quietly. “Couldn’t stomach the party anymore.”

“Did Trevor say something to upset you?”

Quieter: “No, Luke.”

He hovers silently. You can hear the cogs in his brain turning. His pitch matches yours when he speaks next, although his tone is much more melancholic than despondent. “Are you mad at me?”

You hesitate for a second too long. You’re not mad, but you’re certainly taken aback by the uncertainty in his words. “No, Luke,” you say again, but this time the pang that goes through your chest is more familiar. You don’t want to upset him. You’ve always wanted to protect Luke from the world, but now you’ve made him unsure and insecure. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Luke asks, and you have to take a shaky breath. He sounds so small. It’s like the time that you didn’t let him ride bikes with you and Quinn to the store, even though he begged, and then he cried and ran to his mom. After seeing Luke’s puffy red eyes and resolute determination to ignore you for the rest of the night, your soda and candy bar didn’t taste as good. In fact, they tasted a bit like cardboard. You ended up throwing half of the bar away and going home early. You swore you’d never make sweet little Luke feel that way again.

“You wouldn’t get it, I don’t think,” you tell him quietly, pushing yourself up in bed and resting on your elbows. You take a deep breath and look at him, sure that he can see the way your chest rises and falls.

Your eyes have adjusted enough that you can see the way Luke’s mouth opens, as if to say something, then closes with a shake of his head. You notice his eyes fluttering towards the corner of your room, removing you from his line of vision. “Okay. You don’t have to tell me,” Luke says, biting his lower lip in a dejected and heartbreaking way. “I get it. I’ll go.”

“Luke,” you sigh. “Don’t be like that.”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t wanna talk to me,” he says with a shrug. “We’re not friends like that. I’m not Quinn.”

“Luke.” You push yourself up further, pushing the covers down and criss-crossing your legs. “It’s not that.”

“It’s always that. And if it’s not that, then it’s that I’m not Jack. I just– I don’t want to hear that from you.” Luke shrugs again, always defaulting to that motion when he’s deflecting because he’s big and awkward and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. As if he’s thinking the same thing, you watch him shove his fists in his pockets and keep his shoulders tense.

“Come here,” you request, head tilted and mouth turned down with sadness. You shift your position so that both of your knees are under you and you’re sitting back on your heels. “Luke, please.”

You hold your arms out for a hug, not for the first time in your life, and Luke shuffles over. He takes his time and he refuses to meet your eyes, just stooping down so that he can wrap his arms around your middle. It’s a weird position, given that you’re kneeling on the bed and he’s half-bent over. You can feel the pout and doubt all over Luke’s face, so you reach a hand up to his curls and run your thumb over one of his more perfect spirals. He’s letting it grow out a bit and you like how messy it looks.

“Jack told me something,” you reveal softly, still petting through his hair. Luke stiffens in your arms, but doesn’t pull away. “He said you like me.”

Luke groans and struggles in your grip, even sinking to his knees to try and get out of your grasp. He’s kneeling beside the bed, and you bring your legs around so that he’s situated between them. You keep a hand on his shoulder, the other still playing with his hair. He’s evading your eyes again, looking stoutly at the floor.

“I have feelings for you, too,” you whisper, the admission feeling heavy and wrong and like a knife to the gut. Admittance is the first step, but you just feel silly. “And I don’t really know how to deal with those. You’re– I’ve known you since we were so little, Luke.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Luke says bluntly, a hint of a complaint in his sentence. “You’ve been acting weird because you like me, too?”

“I was upset that there was a pretty girl talking to you,” you say sheepishly. “And I just didn’t want to go along with Jack’s plan. He wanted to make you jealous. Thought that would work.”

“I’m always jealous when you talk to another guy,” Luke tells you like it’s obvious. “I just, kind of, gave up. I didn’t think you’d ever feel that way about me. I thought I’d get over it. Stupid childhood crush, you know.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding that you yourself just experienced a similar line of thinking. You said you’d get over it, but you don’t really want to. Not right now, at least, when Luke’s sitting in front of you and he’s got a tentative hand on your calf, rubbing his thumb over the muscle and staring up at you with big eyes. You bite your lip, trying to think logically about this, but all you can do is examine Luke’s features like you’ll never get to see them again. Maybe you won’t– not like this. Not in this liminal space between something and nothing. This is one of those moments that you know won’t last– because the next one will change everything. So, for a moment longer, you just reach out and run your thumb along Luke’s cheekbone, eyes flickering between his cheek, his lips, and his eyes.

“What do we–” Luke loses his words and presses his lips together, looking up at you, expression completely tortured. He turns his head and kisses the side of your knee, which makes your heart split a bit more.

“I don’t know,” you admit. You wish you had a better answer for him. You truly aren’t sure what you can do from here. There are too many things to consider– so you won’t consider them at all.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Luke asks.

A fond burst of laughter escapes from your chest. “Lukey, this is a twin bed. We can’t both fit.”

A pout comes over Luke’s face again. “We can too,” he insists, furrowing his brow a bit. “I’ll prove it. Move over.”

He’s climbing into your bed before you can tell him no. His long and spindly limbs are coaxing you to lay back, then warming you as he holds you tight. It’s a tight squeeze, but that just means that you’re touching him everywhere. It’s nice and you suddenly wish you were facing him, so you roll awkwardly in his arms until you’re face to face. Your noses are nearly touching and Luke is staring at you, really taking you in.

Your eyes find his lips… and then he’s leaning in.

It’s charged with tension and electricity, but it’s soft and hesitant. Neither of you want to test the boundaries and you don’t think this feels quite real. Your stomach is swooping with bats, not butterflies, and it’s exactly what you wanted. This is what you expected when you found yourself imagining kissing Luke this past week, even if you shook yourself out of it because it felt inappropriate. Here, it feels so right that you swear you could start crying from relief. You’ve never felt that way before from just a kiss. Your chest could burst.

When he pulls away, you feel frozen in time. Your eyes are closed and his lips are right there, a hair’s breadth away. You swallow, touching his chest, palm flat.

“Was that okay?” Luke asks.

You nod, then slide your lips over his again.

You come together in a way that can’t be described as anything other than desperate. Your hands touch him in any way they can and Luke’s do the same. You move in tandem like you’ve got a language of your own– an indignant hum from you followed by a sweet “I know” from Luke before he touches you exactly the way you want.

Kissing the whole time, Luke gets you on your back. Your lips only part to remove your shirt, then his. Luke’s big hand cradles your jaw and neck, keeping your head and mouth exactly where he wants them. He guides you with a surprising amount of experience and sureness, although maybe he’s fueled by the same feeling of rightness as you are.

He opens you on his other hand, snaking his hand into your pajamas shorts because he can’t be bothered to remove them. His hips roll against your thigh, his long torso displacing your pelvis from his as he kisses you. He’s big– you knew it height-wise, but now you can feel him against your leg, and you want him to fill you. You want him to claim you, to take you– you want to give all of yourself to Luke. It’s madness and though you’re sure you’ve lost your mind, the crack in your chest that pours out love for Luke has taken control of your body.

After three fingers and a lot of whimpering from you, clutches at Luke’s hair and bruising kisses working in tandem with your noises, Luke works your shorts down. He breaks from your lips so that he can take you in beneath him. He touches your waist and the curve of your stomach, the one that you cringed at for so many years as a teen but finally accepted in your grown age.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says reverently, eyes portraying nothing but sincerity.

You can’t say anything to that, nothing that can match his utterly genuine sentiment or portray how grateful you are that he took the time to say those words, so you kiss him again. You muster up an embarrassingly wanton ‘please,’ which you draw across his lips like a paintbrush.

You can’t get enough of saying his name as he presses into you, his heavy body blanketing yours. You can feel his every muscle move as he works into you and you’ve never felt more like a masterpiece. There were times when you made fun of the phrase ‘making love,’ but sex with Luke feels intensely like you’re creating something tangible by coming together in this way.

The moans and cries that you’re trying to stifle so that no one comes barging in should be enough to convince Luke that this is everything to you. Sweet, sweet Luke– he seems choked up when he says, “They can’t fuck you like I can.” He says the sentence like he has to prove it to you, like you’re not falling apart under his touch. He pleads with you between the words, in the spaces where you can see his breath hitch in his throat.

You’re still not sure where this night will leave you tomorrow morning. Everything, everything has turned on its head. Somehow, you feel a bit like you’ve been leading up to this for a while, not just in the past week. Luke knew it before you did.

“No,” you agree, touching his cheeks and keeping his eyes on yours. “They can’t.” You kiss him briefly, feeling his tongue swipe into your mouth before you pull away. “I’m yours.”

Luke actually keens at that, his arms straining as he shifts his weight to fuck into you harder. Because you’re so close, the bed isn’t moving enough to bang against the walls or creak on its boxsprings, and you’re glad. This is a moment for just you and Luke– you don’t want anyone hearing. You don’t want anyone to be around. You hope that they’ve all miraculously disappeared and you and Luke are the last people in the house, maybe even on Earth.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” Luke repeats, his forehead meeting yours. You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale, his breath automatically syncing with yours. You’re overwhelmed, but deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice reminding you about an ancient tradition in Polynesian culture where forehead-to-forehead contact and breathing together is sacred, like you’re sharing the breath of life– like there’s some power in the universe, a god or many, clicking things into place.

He unravels first, fucking you through his release with urgence akin to the sentence he said before. Always trying to prove himself– but Luke has always been enough for you. Maybe not always in this way, but now, there’s nothing he can do to shake your favor. All of the feelings in your heart have been poured out, shared and mixed with his own, and it’s created a puddle– or a bubble– around the pair of you.

It’s been written that sex is when two people come together as one. You finally understand what they mean, joining Luke in the seas of ecstasy.

Sweet nothings and touches like worship follow. Your hands can’t get enough of Luke’s strong figure. He runs his fingertips along your body like he’s in awe of your figure, like he gets to touch a statue so lifelike and beautiful that he can’t believe it was ever a block of marble at all.

The concerns about what will happen tomorrow don’t exist here, in your dark bedroom with Luke stuck to you like glue. For now, it’s just you. Together, breathing, touching, loving– there’s nothing else that could matter. This is it.

note: i have to work on my grad school app in the coming days, so this will probably be the last blurb/oneshot until i finish the application. but, i might get bored of writing that and could pop in to do another smut piece here and there ;) hopefully i'll chat with y'all soon! but i don't want to rush this grad school app LOL

#puck-luck's 1k celebration #puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes smut #luke hughes blurb #lh43 #nhl #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #hockey smut

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millerscoffee · 2 years ago

Note

Hello!! 🤍 I was wondering if you could write something where Joel is the reader’s college professor, and then Prof. Miller INSISTS that reader comes over to his home for tutoring assistance, (because of failed tests or bad essays), and then finally coaxes her into letting him have his way with her.

hi nonnie! here it is! i hope you enjoy 💖

extra credit

6.2k | joel miller x afab!reader (professor!joel au)

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: professor!joel au, age gap (joel is 46, reader is 21), soft!dom joel, pining, consensual sex, pet names (darlin', doll, baby), oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, piv (unprotected, wrap it folks), squirting, joel spitting over the reader's ass for 0.5 seconds (OOPS IDK???), a pretty dress with easy access, hints of after care, spoiler: honestly prof. miller could've told reader to just do the paper in a different format but – that's the point 🤭

When you picked your major, English was a necessary credit needed to achieve your goals. It wasn’t your strong suit, but you weren’t one to quit just because you were bad at it. So far you were coasting through, getting a mix of good and bad grades in your English Lit class when the last essay before finals was presented.

Among the crowd in Professor Miller’s lecture hall, you typically sat in the front. He hands out papers, hovering by your desk. Giving you a look of disapproval, he places the grade face down. You peel the pages in anticipation, a sense of dread falling over you when you scan the big, red mark of failings. “Shit,” you say to yourself. That was it. That was the grade that was the defining factor of whether or not you had to retake this course. You use the side of your hand to wipe sneaky tears in falling. You failed. Doing your best to keep it together, you’re not sure you even heard the rest of the lecture from the possibilities running through your mind. What were you to do? How would you recover?

Class was over before you knew it. The sounds of bags zipping and feet stepping, you stayed seated until you were able to look over to Professor Miller. Dressed in black slacks, a brown button-up with leather shoes. His hair was slick, the slightest bit of salt and pepper patched at his sideburns. He looked like he had it all figured out, and that struck a nerve. A feeling of jealousy that he knew what he was doing, and you obviously did not.

Professor Miller calls your name when the class is emptied, and you sniffle, standing up to straighten your skirt. Your manicured nails pick up your essay as you walk over in an attempt to hand it to him. “I guess you want this back,” you hold your full bottom lip between your teeth.

“Did you read the material?” Professor Miller inquires, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His voice is so dark and honied in comparison to his scowl. Proving not to judge a book by its cover. The irony.

“Well, I did, but… I struggle with this stuff. Predicates and imagery? I’d rather be learning about biology. But I need this course, you know. And I…,” you swallow hard. God, the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of your teacher. He doesn’t know you, out of the hundreds of people he teaches – how could he possibly even remember your name?

“Hey,” Professor Miller takes his glasses off, putting them on the table. He looks as concerned as you are over it and crosses his arms. Keeps his distance. “It happens, you know. There are things we can do to accommodate. You’re very bright, I’d hate to see you fail. You have options. I can’t let you rewrite the paper, but I could tutor you for your final. Another option is getting a student tutor, but it’s rare. You know the workload of this university. Not a lot of people are willing to sacrifice their precious time.”

“And you are?” You look up at him with grateful, bright eyes and he loves it. The praise just from your stare alone is cause for him to clear his throat.

“Listen, for someone like you, I believe it is important to help. You just need a little more time understanding what you’re doing, is all. I’m not in my office for the rest of the weekend, though. You’d have to come by my house…,” he watches those pretty eyes widen again, and that makes a smirk fall over his greying features, “if that’s okay, of course. If it’s not, we could work something else out.”

You think about it. You’ve never had a teacher invite you over, much less someone who looked the way he did. Though, that was neither here nor there. His lips formed words you couldn’t even pay attention half the time in hearing. Maybe that was part of the reason why you were failing in the first place. But you needed to pass, and if he could help you – and was so kind enough to do it in the first place, you should jump at the first opportunity.

“Okay. Is there a particular time you’d like me to be there?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

What the fuck. That makes your heart race. Tonight? Tonight?! Ton–

“Tonight… tonight is good.” How did you even form the words?

“Perfect,” he started, bending down to write his address on a sticky note – his cologne wafts in your direction, and you clamp your legs shut reflexively. “Here’s my address. 7 o’clock.”

“Seven. Okay… thank you, Professor Miller.”

“Please, call me Joel.” His teeth gleamed in a smile, and his personality shined through it.

A personality you didn’t get to see too often from your position behind a desk.

Shit.

---

According to your phone, he didn’t live very far from campus, and you were able to walk to his house without breaking too much of a sweat. You decided on a black dress, although it was a casual one, that paired nicely with your sneakers. It had buttons down the front with a relaxed collar. Your bag slung over your shoulder when you knocked on his door, a nervousness fluttering in your stomach. It was such a weird thing, meeting your professor in his home. Much less having him request you call him by his first name.

Your knees all but buckled when you saw him on the other side of the door.

He looks… young in his jeans. His t-shirt stretched over the broadness of his shoulders, but it’s still loose enough that it doesn’t look ill-fitted. His stomach, soft at the bottom. You flash him a smile, but internally you’re reeling over how casual he looks. You’d never seen him like this, not even during those school meetings that were informal.

“Hey, you,” he’s bright, too. Charismatic as he invites you into his home. Takes your bag, lets you take your shoes off until you’re in your socks. His words hit your stomach, how easy it is for him to talk to you like you’re the brightest sunflower. What’d you even do to deserve it?

“Hi, Prof– uh, Joel,” you titter, taking in the curated decor of his home. It was sophisticated, yet a little cheesy at the same time. His alumni cover his walls and a mix of pictures. Some with a couple of young girls you assumed were his children. He has children, you swallow.

“Wasn’t too hard to find this place, right? When I moved here, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t too far – not much of a mornin’ person,” Joel laughs and you do, too. Fuck, this feels so easy. But it’s nothing – it’s nothing.

What you don’t pick up on right away is his open body language. He places your bag on his couch and you follow him like a puppy – he likes that. You look so soft under the sienna hue of his lights, your hair falling into place naturally. Plump and ripe for the taking. Of course, he meant it when he said he’d tutor you, but the air got thick the moment the door was shut behind the two of you. What were you doing to him?

Joel’s large frame walks over to his bar cart, turning on his heel to face you, “Interested?”

“Huh?” You blink and he laughs again at your deer caught in the headlights expression. You’re cute.

“Do you drink?”

“Oh, uh… water would be nice.”

“Water it is,” Joel’s pleasant, gesturing his hand for you to follow him. And you do – that puppy he was coming to know, right to his kitchen. You study the marble countertops, the farmhouse style kitchen sink.

“So, tutoring,” he starts, taking a glass from the cupboard, he fills it with filtered water before handing it to you – you thank him with a nod, “I was thinking we could look at your paper, and then go over how to fix things in the future?” When you take the water from him, your fingers graze. The first sign of contact, your head continues to nod unthinkingly, but all that scorches your mind is how his skin feels.

“That sounds good,” you overcompensate, shoving the ideas from your mind. He was your teacher, and it was easy to get back into the mode of why you were here.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change much, still the same grin with hooded eyes and wrinkles at his forehead. The two lines between his brow. “Alright, well I have it on the coffee table. Let’s get settled on the couch, and we’ll get started, okay?”

So you agree. You take your glass of water and follow him back to the couch where everything was set up – your paper, his laptop. All of the correction marks in your face as you sit down. You take another sip of water before placing it down on the coaster. You dread it, you really do. Going over your failures? You scrunch your nose up to yourself, but Joel notices when you’re both settled on the cushions.

“You know, Voltaire said, ‘perfect is the enemy of good’,” Joel bends his knee on the couch, thigh pressing into the cushion to turn to you and it causes the couch to shift. The quote makes you giggle a little to yourself, and you shake your head. “What?” His eyebrow quirks in curiosity.

“Voltaire also popularised the story of Newton’s apple, doesn’t make it true.”

“Huh…,” Joel trailed off, keeping his eye on you – his tongue skating over his bottom lip in thought. You were so quick all he could really do was laugh, and that made your shoulders relax. Makes you feel more in control and comfortable to laugh at yourself. “You got an answer for everything?”

“Not everything. See this,” you pick up your paper, thumbing over the ink of corrections the man on the couch made and you shrug, “I don’t really understand why this got marked wrong.” Joel’s gaze flashes over your mouth when your teeth press into the plushness of your bottom lip – he should be given some damn award for having so much self control around you.

“Wrong format. This citation works for your research papers, right?” He nods with you before leaning in closer, that damn cologne coming back in full force just like earlier in the day. You all but freeze when his warm touch graces you again – this time, fingers tracing over where you’re holding the paper. “Oh,” your voice is soft, a bit of disappointment pangs at your ribs. You were so busy you didn’t even realise that was the majority of the issues you had.

“So… it’s not really what I wrote, it’s how I wrote it? You asked if I read the material?”

“Exactly. If you read the syllabus, you’d see the required format. Listen, there are some ways for extra credit, I do think this is salvageable.”

You suddenly feel silly.

You did all that work, Professor Miller was kind enough to let you into his home, and it was all for some redundant formatting. An open palm curls over your chin as you look at the paper in deep contemplation.

“I really fucked up,” you say, hushed in the space.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” you manage an exhale of amusement at the sound of your teacher curse. You shift your gaze to look at him. The curls at the nape of his neck, the way his t-shirt dropped enough so you could see his neck, his chest. The freckles that splayed over his aged skin. “You just needed someone to tell you what to do.”

That was the loaded statement. And a pointed one, it seems. Someone to tell you what to do. And Joel wanted to be that person? Your eyebrows raise for a flash, thumbing over the paper.

“That would be too easy,” you scratch at your neck idly before going for the glass of water, sipping in contemplation. “...I mean, I should’ve known better.”

Joel takes the glass from you, offering himself a sip of your water and it stuns you speechless, doing your best not to convey it. Maybe he did that just because this was his house. That must’ve been it. He was comfortable, but goddamn – the eye contact he gave you when he swallowed the liquid.

It felt intentional.

He watches your features, vague as they were, in what to do next. He honestly wasn’t so sure what he was doing either. What? I know how to give you extra credit, sweetheart. Too forward, too boastful, too… cheap. You deserved better than that. He saw you in class, how hard you were on yourself. He talked to your other teachers, how well you were doing in your other classes. He felt for you. And he was a bit lost in your eyes. You were all too pretty, too brilliant to be dimmed down to a fuck for extra credit. Joel could see that. He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, you had him distracted. You threw him off without even trying. The plight within him grew stronger as he handed back the glass.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Joel straightens up, his hand cups over your forearm in a way that’s understanding, but also makes goosebumps rise. You look down to see where you connect and he pulls away slightly. “Sorry, I–,” “No, it’s okay,” you agree, “It’s okay. You’re right.”

“It’s just, I see hundreds of bright, beautiful young people every year, but none of them have stood out to me like you.” He can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. The candor, the nerve. A filthy old man, that’s all he was in the eyes of someone as sweet and innocent as you were. Even if you happened to be experienced – god, what was he thinking?!

Joel clears his throat, shifting a bit in his seat, but he sees the way your lips part, but your eyes don’t show an ounce of shock or distain. They look soft, and… willing. You know that is because the pull at your core feels too strong to think of anything else. You look down at his left hand, making sure you’re not dreaming. He’s not married? You’d casually look at his hands from time to time during class and ignored the ache it gave you, but this? So close? Backed by the glow of his house? It was so different from the boys you were used to. In their dorms or disgusting apartments. It smelled as nice as it looked. You realise you’re not speaking, but the way you lean into him says more than you really ever could.

“I don’t know what to say,” shyly, you touch your knuckles to your cheek, “you should teach the guys that go here how to chat with someone.”

It’s a mutter, but not to yourself. You drink one more mouthful of what you were offered before putting it back on the coaster. Honestly, any distraction was welcome to defer from the ever-present density in the room.

“Those guys don’t know what they’re talkin’ about anyway. I know I didn’t at that age.”

There. The topic right in front of both of your faces.

“How old at you, anyway?” You inquire, thumb mindlessly circling over your knee. Joel tracks it, licking over his lips as he answers. “Forty-six. You?”

“Twenty-one.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

There’s this standstill, as if you’re both in the air together looking at each other in slow motion. How will this land? What are you both even doing here like this?

“I’m sure your boyfriend takes good care of you,” Joel’s eyes, round and bright brown, get lost in yours – the way your breath hitches, the shift of your thighs on his sofa. He wondered what you tasted like, what sounds you make when these boys who don’t know what they’re doing with their tongue attempt to eat you out. Do you fake it? Do you give it to them straight? Neither of you had a drink from that bar cart in the corner of the room, but somehow you’ve become closer – and more intoxicated.

“Don’t have one,” you respond softly, orbs flickering to the set of plush lips that grow more red the longer you let the tension build, “what about you? N-no partner?”

Your attempt in confidence wavering the longer he stares at you. It’s like staring back into the sun and you have your brows knit together until the tug of muscle makes your forehead hurt – smoothing them apart with the twitch of muscle fibers.

“No partner,” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh and you can’t hold it back; you gasp. But you do something he doesn’t anticipate, or well, you don’t do something: you don’t pull away.

How did you two get to the topic, anyhow?

How did you end up straddling his lap, for that matter?

It’s within six eager seconds that his hand, hot and rough, touches your soft skin, and you – green, you – fervent, throw all inhibitions aside and lunge. It’s more fluid than you realise, and his hands (both now) grip the backs of your bare thighs and you whimper at the sensation of him squeezing you. Your wetness against your cotton panties grows from the kneading alone. No, absolutely not, the boys back in the dorms didn’t know how to do this.

It takes an even shorter time for your mouths to meet. He’s first to kiss, and he tastes like coffee and his dinner, and the faintness of a cigarette – maybe early in the day? You couldn’t tell, your head was swimming too deep in now to come back from.

And although his calloused fingers roll patterns into your soft skin, he’s just as willing. Just as desireful and you can feel it beg to be set free at the seam of his jeans. His tongue skirts against yours, hips rolling up the second yours tempt to roll down; causing you both to moan in each other’s mouths.

It gets feverish after that. All teeth, tongue, bite.

You don’t want to stop, you don’t want to take a moment to breathe because fuck, that could stop things. That could make him realise what is happening.

But that only is another item to your list of naivety.

Because Joel, he’s ready. His masculine arms wrap around your frame to lift you up just enough so he can get out of his fucking jeans that he now regrets wearing. Shoulda been wearin’ sweats, but it’s effortless… eventually. He hurriedly pushes the thick fabric down until they hit at his thighs and you’re pushed down onto his boxers that – holy fucking shit – leave nothing to the imagination. “Joel, J-,” you pant between kisses, fingernails digging into the base of his neck, he pauses. Pulls away, gets a good look at your face.

“Y’want this?” And goddamn, you can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look just as fucked out as he does. On the cusp of every little fantasy he’s had about you from the moment you sat down behind that desk.

“I want this,” you repeat. You weren’t sure exactly when the nerves subsided, maybe because all of the blood is now rushed at the apex of your thighs, but you mean it.

You want this. You want Professor Miller.

“You got me,” his breath dances over your lips before guiding you back a bit, “here… I’m going to lie back, I want you to– I’ll show you.” Your lips quirk up at the fact he’s so flushed he can’t even finish his sentence.

But that soon turns to you flushing when you realise his request. “I – what?”

“No?” Joel sits up on his elbows, looking over to you and you’re worried you’ve killed the mood. It’s just, straddling his face? Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“I’ve never done that… What if it’s bad?” His eyes, reassuring, but a deep shade of black now beckons you.

“Darlin’, I think you’ll be a natural. But I can teach you, if that’s what you want.”

You swallow, straddling his knees somewhere at the bottom of the couch and you think about it.

Joel, on the other hand, was living in a fantasy of teaching you things in and out of school. Showing you how to make yourself feel good on his mouth – make you forget all about the essay that caused you grief today. He leans over, pushing it under the couch out of view for good measure.

“Okay,” you agree, though nerves still flood you. “Okay, you wanna take your panties off?” You lick your lips at that, biting back another whimper that brought you to this predicament in the first place. And you did – you wanted nothing more than to slip your underwear off and give into your pleasures. His voice was deep, graveled with the prospect of him fucking you senseless on his couch and who were you to deny him that?

Who were you to deny yourself that, more importantly.

“Yeah,” doing as you say, you slip off your lace-trimmed undies and abandon them somewhere on your Professor’s floor. “Fuck,” you mutter. This was naughty.

“Already so good for me,” you weren’t even sure that Joel’s voice could get deeper, or more inviting, but it does. You bite your lip and oblige when he pats his chest. Going over to him, you straddle just above his broad shoulders, and he’s almost out of view with him like this – somehow making it easier to just feel what he could do to you.

Joel on the other hand? All he can do is see the outline of your glistening core from the shadowed tent you’ve made of your dress and his groans are muffled slightly from the fabric, “Fuckin’ Christ,” he wants to devour you, but he takes his time instead.

Peppers kisses along your thighs that make you claw the armrest, causes you shiver at the contact and you can’t believe this is happening. “J-Joel,” you hesitate, but his hands are wrapped around your hips now, fingers digging into the breadth of your ass.

“Sit.” Joel commands.

Oh, fuck.

You’re almost certain you’ll break skin at your lips from biting down so hard, but you do as you’re told. Anchoring down, it’s subtle at first – the brushing of his facial hair against your folds, his chin prying you apart. Then, it’s incredibly palpable. His lips are the first thing you feel as they press and kiss over your middle and as you shudder it only makes your muscles sink deeper on him. You’re the first to moan, and then Joel, and his mouth is open when he invites you inside it.

“Oh, my god,” thighs shaking, Joel flattens his tongue under the hood of your clit, a body part you were certain hadn’t been touched by anyone else but yourself. There was no time to compare, the white hot pleasure coursed through your veins and he took his time with it, too. Made sure he was teasing you, his tongue dipping inside your entrance, as sloppy as it felt. “Hmmn,” you can’t speak, forearms resting on the armrest now as your head hangs between your shoulders and his fingers make pliable work of your asscheeks. Pushing you down, using your hips to move back and forth against his mouth – like he’s using you while you use him.

The air is thick under your dress, sticky and humid, as Joel swirls this tip of his devilish tongue in the most astonishing circles you’ve ever experienced, and you know it’s because he has more experience than you do. Has so much to teach you, if you let him. Your mouth hangs open as you try to inhale, but it’s just too much. Especially with the way he thumbs into your stomach, then your pubic bone – lifting it just slightly to expose your clit to him. An angle, not even you have found yourself.

It almost feels like too much. It’s intentional, the way his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves right at the top of your cunt. Delicious, deliberate. Two fingers greet your entrance and it startles you, the way he’s rubbing your hole with his two fingers in slow circles before pressing them where you want them most.

“Tell me you want it,” you hear, muffled and fucked, and you shiver at the slightest bit of lack of contact.

“I want it, I want your fingers – please!”

And that seems to send him over the edge of how much he’s willing to hold back because he’s exactly where he was. Mouth on your clit, but fingers skillfully pressing inside of you and you don’t know how long you’ll last. Not with the pads of his fingers tapping in the perfect tempo against the ridged spot inside you.

That’s when a weird sensation comes over you. A pressure, you felt like you had to pee and your insides pulled in more trying to keep it all contained. “I–,” you start, but it happens so suddenly. Your orgasm rushes through you, convulsing and almost falling over the edge of the couch, you dig your fingernails into the upholstery. Your eyes roll back, and fuck, so are your hips. Unable to stop yourself using Joel’s mouth to keep you exactly right there. Pleasure pricks your skin, it feels like every cell is ignited – but you jump when you feel a rush of fluid come out of you. The pressure rebounding out, then rippling pleasure back inside you. Joel fucks you with his tongue and fingers until he feels you calm down.

“W-what, what… did I do?” You pant, and Joel is groaning, too. He lifts your hips to get lungfuls of oxygen, so dizzy on you and you notice how soaked his pair of fingers feel on your skin. Sits you down on his chest and you can see his face finally. Can see his mouth parting, gasping as his eyes are hooded and so gone. Curls stick to his forehead, his shirt a dampened colour at the collar. You blush heavily, embarrassed because you aren’t even sure what that was. Did he hate that, was that weird?

“C’mere,” he growls with gritted teeth and sits up, the tables turning instantly. Joel’s stripping his shirt off, kicking every last bit of the bottom half he had on to be abandoned on the floor. His fingers remove the buttons, but he can’t really get them – those fingers too big for the buttons. “Here,” you whisper, an intense feeling of lust falling over any self-conscious self talk you had. You undo the top of your dress one button at a time until your breasts are released from your bra – you moan when he has no problem spilling your tits from the satin, nipples in stiff peaks from your orgasm. And everything else.

“You know what you did?” Joel asks, taking both of your nipples between his fingers from each hand. You moan, lifting your hips and he bites his lip when he sees your cunt front under your dress. “What was it?” You ask, curiously. Innocently.

“You squirted f’me, baby,” he slurs, thumbing over your clit now as he gets a good look at you and he’s drunk on you. His cock throbbing against your thigh, he taps it against your skin before realising what he needed.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters and you can tell by the tone it’s not just at your appearance. “What is it?” You inquire, eyebrows knit.

“Gotta get a condom,” you hear him mutter, getting onto one foot and you stop him. “No. No. I want to feel you. It’s okay, I don’t get pregnant–” well that sentence isn’t exactly how you mean for it to come out, but your mind is mush, your body feels boneless underneath him, and he chuckles at that. At how gone your brain is. Here he was, thinking he was the only one. “Okay, okay, darlin’. I believe ya.”

And really, maybe he should be using more discretion. But he can’t get the feeling of you out of his head. You were everywhere. His mouth, his glistening chest and beard. He takes you by the hips then, sitting back to flip you on your hands and knees with your help and you moan at the sensation. Joel looks down at you, groaning of your ass in the air, pushing back for his cock. “Such a needy little thing, now,” it’s as if someone else is talking. This isn’t the Professor Miller you know. This man has layers and you’re first in line to know exactly what that entails.

Joel takes the base of his cock, bobbing it as it throbs alive in his hand and runs through your slick with the head of it. “So fucking wet. Beginning to think you’ve been wanting this for as long as I have.”

You bite a whine and he can see the back of your head nodding as you crane your neck back enough to make eye contact, but his eyes fall down to your ass pressing eagerly on his cock. Doing your best to press him inside yourself.

“Go ahead,” he slaps his cock on your folds and you mewl at the wet sounds coming from it. “Take my cock.”

And take, you do. Joel holds it out for you, keeps it steady and you push back slow on his cock. Clenching around the head and he growls at that. “You dirty thing. This how you fuck all your teachers?” It burns your skin, pushing your face into your arm and you shake your head.

“Words.” He warns.

“Just you! Just you, Joel!”

“Just me,” he parrots, hissing when you shift back and you both twitch and groan when you take him to the hilt of you. It was so thick, stretching you out until you felt split apart from him. “Just me, show me then. Show me how you fuck me.”

You bite into your arm then, choking on a sob as you push your ass back over and over. Your cunt taking him deep like this, it almost feels like too much and not enough at once. Torturously slow against the spongy spot again

It felt so amazing taking him yourself, but it was like an itch you couldn’t scratch on your own. The tapping of his balls against your clit was too far apart in tempo, his cock speared inside you at a pace that didn’t have quite the same leverage as Joel did behind you.

His hands busied themselves on your ass, peeling the muscle apart – pressing his digits to leave bruises and just when you think it’s too much to take, he gives you something else. His spit falling from his lips right to the velvet of your asshole. You shudder and flutter around him when it falls to where you’re connected. Your fingertips grip the other armrest now, cheek resting atop of your hand and you can’t do it yourself anymore. “Fuck me, Joel! Professor Miller, please!”

“Shit – you know where to push, don’t you?” Joel’s wide hands slide up your sides, keeping them locked in place as he pulls your hips to him at first. Using your whole lower body, your head hands doing your best to keep yourself up but you’re so close when he uses you like this. When he picks up the pace and you let your head fall on his throw pillow – your screams of desire are targeted into the plush cushion.

Joel is bound up in amazement behind you. How you feel around him, your gorgeous figure in front of him as he gives you every bit of power he can now. His hips hammering into you, but with the right amount of speed – not too fast, not too slow. The sound of his balls slapping against your clit is faster now, and the difference is what you focus on. The way it sounds. Joel feels you tighten, pulse around his own pulse and he has to say something to you. Has to talk you through it, even if he’s not sure you’ll like it.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he drapes his body over your back, huffing into your ear as the controlled weight of him pushes your ass down just enough to make your thighs shake. You are soaked, sticky against his abdomen, between your thighs. Over your own stomach. You move your face so you can feel his skin closer against your. His lips staying on your cheekbone, he grunts and nods.

“That’s it, fuckin’ take it. I know you can take it. Those shaky fuckin’ thighs better hold on.”

You feel yourself coil and he is quick to sooth over your hips with his palms.

“Relax, baby. That’s it, that’s good, darlin’. Shh, easy. Do you feel that heat?”

You nod hopelessly, the buildup was so strong you couldn’t do anything but curl your fingers into fists and whimper repeatedly.

“Give into that heat. Come for me, I know you can be so good for me. Good for – fuck – fuck. Good for my cock,” Joel groaning in your ear makes you flutter uncontrollably, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your front, rolling quick circles at the split of your cunt, right at your clit. “Milkin’ my fuckin’ cock like that, don’t stop. Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he grits, and you’re gasping.

Clawing at the pillow, head craning up and back as you come. Mouth gaped, Joel takes advantage – pouring his tongue into it, swirling and drinking you while his cock bottoms into you repeatedly until he can’t take it anymore. You feel too good. Perfect, even.

“Joel!” Your whine is high, as your wet folds take his merciless shoves. “You feel so good, youfeelsogood!” Your lip quivers, jerking in aftershocks that feel a lot like multiple orgasms. You aren’t even sure how you feel, but he knows he has to pull out. So he tells you, rough and pained against your ear. He doesn’t want to any more than you do. But as soon as he does, that reward feels just as sweet.

He exhales roughly through his nose, a popping sound filling the room when he pulls out. Not even needing to touch himself to spill himself over the small of your back.

“Fuck,” he’s out of breath, grunting, and doing his best not to collide into you. You’re still, the nape of your neck dews with sweat and you can feel it stick to your dress instantly.

“Stay there,” Joel pulls away, and you sit up on your elbows now that you’re fully flat and study his frame walk into the kitchen.

The back of him is just as irresistible as the front.

You hum hungrily at the landscape of his back. But you do as you say, you don’t move a muscle. When he comes back, you take note of the splotches of his chest, his neck red and sheened with sweat, too. He’s just as disheveled. The paper towel he comes back with is rough against your lower back, but tickles more than anything else.

Makes you wriggle and laugh.

“What did I say?” He threatens, but his voice is much more smoother and tender. More playful. More like what you’re used to.

“Tickles!”

“You must endure it if you know what’s good for you.” he’s finished enough for you to roll over. You pull your tits back into your bra with another low laugh, but to yourself at how exposed and a mess you’re sure you look on your professor’s couch.

“I think I like that threat.”

“No more,” and that makes your heart drop. He must be able to see the disappointed look on your face, so he rephrases his sentence in an instant. “No more tonight.”

“Maybe I should be teaching you the importance of ambiguity.”

“Next lesson.”

Your heart soars just as fast as it dropped.

---

While you slip on your sneakers, you turn your heel to him – bag in tow. “Listen, I don’t want this to be why I passed.”

“It’s not – it won’t be,” Joel chews up the space between you – his hand pressing against the doorframe that your delicate hand adorns at the knob, fully dressed himself, now. “You will pass by your own volition. I meant it – you are bright. You won’t let anybody take that from you, will you?” You knew that wasn’t a question as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you still swayed your head ‘no’.

“Not even me.” He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead before dropping his arm – allowing you to leave. And that’s exactly what he’ll let you believe.

“Especially not you.” You smile, leaning up to kiss his lips – your flavour lingers over his facial hair and tongue. Your panties in his pocket.

“Goodnight, Professor Miller.”

“Goodnight, doll.”

taglist: @cool-iguana – comment to be added!

#bee's requests #professor!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou smut #joel miller requests #soft!dom joel #softdom!joel #professor au #professor joel miller au #tlou au #joel miller au #by bee

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st6rly · 2 months ago

Text

❛ love me like how only you do. ❜

synopsis : 　 through every universe, every cycle of rebirth, he will always find you. in which kazuha loves all versions of you; in every timeline, every universe, every breath or non-breath he takes. 　 ╱ 　 word count : 　 1.7k

characters : 　 kazuha x gn!reader

categories : 　 fluff. mild angst. yearning. royalty au. country x city trope. hospital au. modern au. apocalypse & post-apocalypse aus. idol au. inanimate object / nature au?? lot's of aus. 8 + 1 fic.

warnings : 　rusty writing (it's been a hot minute my bad-). brief major character deaths. mention of blood / injury / violence / drowning. illness in characters + family members. fire. zombies. mentions / vague descriptions of death in general.

dedicated to : 　 @yuomizuu, from your stellaronhvnter secret santa :3c when i saw kazuha on your list, i jumped for joy; he’s one of my top genshin characters & im so happy to have an excuse to write for him! // playlist i was listening to while writing // art by @.mayu_mey on twt

In one universe, Kazuha bumps into you on the street.

Bundles of scrolls and parchment spill from your arms, delicate writing muddied with dirt as the commotion on the street barely comes to a halt. Onlookers scowl and grumble, moving past without a second thought as you scramble to collect your things from the footpath, movements hastened by the spear-tips aiming your way.

Cape a deep crimson with delicate fur trim, the Kaedehara family crest is embroidered on the back in gold thread. Kazuha always thought it was unnecessary to flaunt his status, preferring respect of the family name over awe of his wealth. But being a gift from a dear friend, he wears it more often than not. In cases like these, he wishes he hadn’t. Your eyes catch the glint of his garments, and you freeze, petrified.

Lowering to a crouch, Kazuha waves away his guards with dimmissive hand, gloved hands working to collect fallen sheets.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice kind and with a smile. He holds out a scroll for you to take back. Your fingers brush his.

“Yes…” you mutter back, somewhat sheepish. You quickly rise to your feet and offer him a bow. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

“No need for it.”

He offers to walk you to your destination. You decline. He insists. The two of you both make it to the library in quick succession, the others on the road making way the minute the red of his cape is seen.

“This is quite unnecessary, Your Highness.” Kazuha looks over at you. You smile when he meets your eyes. “It was I who bumped into you. There was no need to escort me back.”

“Ah, but I wanted to.”

It’s when you’re inside, the door closed behind you, that Kazuha stops to stare at where you’d once stood. His cheeks are rosy with warmth.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” one of the guards prods, hesitant. “You seem a bit… flushed.”

“I’m more than alright.”

The kingdom falls before he can see you again.

Flames engulf houses and shops; fire starved and ravenous, it becomes a glutton as it licks up the side of the library. His horse whinnies and backs away when the heat gets to be too much, but Kazuha can’t seem to pull himself away from the sight. He needs to leave. He needs to leave. Run. Run. Run. Run—

Some part of him hopes you made it out unscathed, heart heavy as the shouts of enemy troops chase after him. You would’ve liked the palace archives, he thinks, salt trailing down ash-stained cheeks as the ruins disappear in the distance.

—

In one universe, you’ve just moved from the city to the countryside.

As your new neighbour, Kazuha took it upon himself to welcome you. The rest of the area had heard about your reasonings: a relative of yours who owned the house you’d be staying in has fallen ill. You’re here to keep things in order while they receive treatment.

Basket full of fresh fruit from his own farm, he stands outside your door with a nervous frown. His heart beats erratically in his chest, pulse ricocheting off the bones of his ribs. It’s never like him to be so jittery when greeting others. Readjusting his grip, Kazuha sucks in a breath and knocks.

You shout back, “Just a sec!”

There’s a brief moment where Kazuha debates leaving, dropping the basket and running. He digs his heels into the ground. The door opens with a click. You smile and—

Oh.

He’s been here before, hasn't he?

Cheeks turning a soft pink, he grins back, holding out the basket.

“A little welcome gift,” he says, “from your new neighbour.”

You take the basket from him; your fingers don’t touch his. Is it weird that he wishes they did? Kazuha comes back the next day, handing you a bunch of mail and a package. You invite him to stay this time.

Kazuha swears he’s seen you before, that you moving wasn’t a coincidence judging by the butterflies that eat at his stomach lining. Whatever it is, you don’t remember him like how he thinks of you.

You return to the city months later, leaving the confession on the tip of his tongue.

—

In one universe, you are the wind that greets him every morning.

The hospital room is stuffy, void of colour except for the stack of “Get well soon!” cards and deflating balloons shoved by his bedside. He misses the farm, he decides, the vast openness of the trees and fields. The smell of medicine had stung his nose at first; now it’s barely there. Kazuha stares out at the sunrise, smiling to himself when a familiar breeze slips through the crack of his window. Bathed in gold with the sun speckled in his hair, he strains an arm and grasps onto a well-loved notepad and pen.

“One day,” he murmurs, voice airy as he jots down the date, “I’ll be out there too.”

—

In one universe, you’re a birdhouse and he’s the bird.

The seeds are kept well stocked; the shelter you provide is always dry. You both get swept away in a windstorm.

—

In one universe, he is a star.

Rubble and debris from what were once towering builds block any type of path you may have been able to venture. Despite the lack of them, the stench of walking death still permeates the air.

“Shouldn’t have taken that shortcut,” you mumble, grunting when your foot catches on another root.

The trees grow thicker and you swear you’ve passed this part of the woods already. You grumble a string of profanities, plopping down to the forest floor and leaning against the bark. You look up.

“You’re here at least.” The words are soft, much too gentle for the atmosphere. Kazuha doesn’t respond. Can’t respond. “You’d scold me for scavenging this late. I know it.”

The star grows brighter, as if laughing.

—

In one universe, Kazuha’s flesh can be tasted on your tongue.

Tied up in the corner, your arms pinned behind your back, he sits about two metres away in front of you on a broken crate. The gun lays loaded in his lap. Eyes closed with his head down, fingers resting on the cool metal, Kazuha’s lips stretch into a thin line.

“It’s not right,” he mutters, mainly to himself as you thrash in the corner, desperate to reach him. “It’s not my right to rob you of life.”

You snarl in response. Eyes bloodshot and crazed, he wonders if you can still understand him. Would you plead for him to shoot you? Would you beg to be spared? Could he bear to do either? He’s going to be sick.

“It’s not right,” he repeats, shaky hands curling in his lap. “It’s you and me. We haven’t come all this way just to end.”

The world has taken enough from him. Kazuha refuses to let it take you too; not without him.

He stands in front of you. The gun lays off to the side.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice screams at him not to fold. They wouldn’t want this, it wails, clawing at the walls of his skull. Another tells him, Do it. And so Kazuha undoes your binds, kisses you, smiles tearfully when your nails claw into his skin. Blood runs down his back, stains his tattered clothing. He hugs you. Your jaws clamp down on the junction of his neck and shoulder. His nose brushes against your jaw.

“It’s ok,” he whispers to ears that cannot hear reason, hold tightening, “we’ll be ok.”

—

In one universe, you two never meet. Not face-to-face at least.

Kazuha smiles at the camera, holding up a peace-sign, before the view switches to another member on stage. The clip goes viral very shortly after its creation. You come across it one day.

“An idol, huh…” you mutter.

You scroll away.

—

In one universe, he’s stuck behind a screen, a watcher to your world as you go through the motions of life.

Fate isn’t his, but he can’t seem to mind. When his splash art first coloured your screen, when he first witnessed that giddy look in your eyes, Kazuha knew he was smitten.

Even if you ult at the wrong times, run out of stamina in the middle of climbing, skip dialogue, Kazuha is there beside you. For every beginning, end, every plotline in between, he’s a staple of your team.

One day, you stop logging in. It was gradual at first; daily tasks, some resin here and there, you’d skip a day then come back the next. A day turned into two. Then three. A week. A month. Kazuha still waits. It’s funny how his world comes to a standstill when you do. He hopes you’re doing well.

—

In one universe, he is a leaf and you are a river cutting through the forest.

He drowns in your embrace, waterlogged and swept away as you carry him down stream. If he had a conscience, Kazuha would do it again.

—

In this universe, it’s finally Kazuha and you. (There is no need to say he loves you when his name is already beside yours.)

Kazuha watches as you pack up your things. He stands from his spot next to you, bag slung over his shoulder as he waits. Other students are already leaving the lecture hall, milling about as he admires you from this short distance.

In this universe, it’s been Kazuha and you since birth. Friends since forever, it surprised no one when both of you confessed. It would be nice if every universe were like this.

“You’re staring.”

He blinks, hand finding yours automatically. You squeeze back.

“It’s hard not to when you look like that,” he teases back.

“C’mon, the winter festival is starting soon.” You roll your eyes.

Foot catching on the chair, Kazuha steadies you before your books can fall out of your hands, giggling when you’re quick to apologize.

“I had a weird dream last night,” he blurts out once you’re back to standing.

“About me falling?”

“More than that.” He traces your skin with his thumb, lost in thought before speaking again. “I’ll walk you back to your dorm. Drop off your stuff and all.”

“Nah, I can just meet up with you.”

Would it be nice if every universe were like this? That’s silly, he thinks with a smile. No world could make me love you less.

“I insist.”

notes : 　inspired by multiverse concepts, including “everything, everywhere, all at once,” arcane, the "do you think we're together in every universe?" trend, and this one poem i read that i can’t remember. this ended up being shorter than i thought it would be, but there are a lot of parallels between scenes and such so i hope those were caught! apologies if the prose doesn't flow too well TwT

#hvntersecretsanta #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha x gender neutral reader #! notepad.txt #genshin impact scenarios #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin impact x gender neutral reader

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peterm4rker · 5 months ago

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¿DÓNDE ESTÁ LA BIBLIOTECA? ── a zhong chenle smau

In which SMU’s star basketball player zhong chenle is threatened to be benched for the season because of his failing spanish grade, marking the end of his life as he knows it.

In which SMU’s resident spanish tutor y/n l/n is suddenly being harassed by a random dance major, begging her to tutor his best friend before he spirals further into depression (or finishes the third tub of cookie dough ice cream he did not buy.)

ᯓ pairing ;; basketballcaptain!chenle x spanishtutor!reader

ᯓ genres ;; social media au, written parts, college au, slowburn, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers.

ᯓ featuring ;; ph1, aespa, bnd, riize, other nct units.

ᯓ warnings ;; profanity, sexual jokes and innuendos, death jokes, alcohol use, maybe weed consumption, let me know if theres more!

ᯓ status ;; completed!

ᯓ playlist ;; here

ᯓ taglist ;; closed!

ᯓ blue's corner ;; so, i can't say im not absolutely terrified to post this, but im also sooo excited to share it! i think the lack of chenle content in this app is criminal, so i wanted to put my own little grain of salt to change that. i do want to say that this is totally self indulgent since i'm a native spanish speaker and because of that i ask you to be patient with me if you notice a lot of spelling mistakes or a sentence doenst really make sense, but i appreciate if you'd let me know if that happens!

ᯓ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

YANGYANG HATE CLUB || markhyuk fanclub😍😍|| pro ballers

zero. I DO NOT??

one. 𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚

two. LOW BLOW

three. oh !

four. ha... haha... ha

five. matate

six. what the fuck was that (written)

seven. debby downer

eight. what does my asthma have anything to do with this

nine. sorry pookie🙏

ten. chat am i cooked?

elven. WHOS THAT GIRLLL

twelve. oh?

thirteen. i think i fucked up

fourteen. missing ludovica hours

fifteen. critical thinking skills

sisxteen. where the fuck did alberto come from? (half written)

seventeen. cry about it

eighteen. not the despair slide...

nineteen. are you jelly?

twenty. seek help

twenty one. i need to leave (written)

twenty two. word

twenty three. good kitten

twenty four. are you shitting me? (written)

twenty five. oh hey

twenty six. VOLDEMORT DOESNT LIKE YOU

twenty seven. girl…

twenty eight. were you silent or silenced

twenty nine. PRETTY IS BACK

thirty. the og friend group combiners

thirty one. lowkey......

thirty two. hola linda, (written)

thirty three. this psycho

thirty four. just for me

EXTRAS

who is jisung reading fanfiction about?

#chenle #zhong chenle #chenle smau #nct dream #nct dream smau #kpop #kpop smau #nct #nct smau #chenle texts #chenle x reader #wayv #chenle social media au #nct dream social media au #nct social media au #🕸🕷✮⋆˙ peterm4rkerswrld #🕸🕷✮⋆˙ ¿dónde está la biblioteca?#🕸🕷✮⋆˙ chenle

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swaqcenix · 1 year ago

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The Devil was an Angel First | N. Romanoff

Natasha Romanoff x fem!stripper reader

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

Summary: It was a risk and a job worth taking, simply use your ability to seduce to earn enough money to get you your university degree. Yet you didn't anticipate the owner of the strip-club to take a significant interest in you, but what can she do? As soon as Natasha saw you, you were hers.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x!fem stripper reader, employee x boss, forbidden romance

Warnings: 18+, slight dark!natasha romanoff, manipulation, strip-teasing, lap-dancing, pole-dancing, fingering, semi-public sex, oral (n to r), mommy kink, strap-on, choking,degrading, over-stimulation, handcuffs and toys, reader is easily manipulated!

Word Count: 9K

AN: This is heavily inspired by the song Pray by Xana, you could listen to it while reading this to get an extra bit of the atmosphere ;)) Also I wil be taking small requests or drabbles for this specific fic/pairing as I'm secretly addicted to this concept.. (not so secretly.)

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

Slipping amongst the crowds, your eyes dart around the room as the sounds of the club itself echo through your body. The lighting was illuminating each corner of the room, but stopping in certain bleak shadow's contrasting well with those who put on a performance.

The smell of slick sweat and hot bodies mingling through the room made your nose twitch through instinct and it was around this time your mind was wondering whether this was the right call.

University had been always your major goal in life, pass through High-school get your qualifications and your grades, just don't fuck up. For most of your life you'd remained hidden in the shadows, contempt to live life remaining hidden away while the flashlight of beams hit the sky's ground touching everything but yourself.

Yet apparently life deemed it not apparent that this was the case for you. Instead when your family collided into debuts and the household becoming a simply standing memory of what once was and never could be's you knew the longing for snatching your degree's up in higher education was slipping like fog and air through your fingers.

Would that be a common knowledge concept and reality to turn towards darker paths? Well, darker in regards to your family's eye-line anyway. You simply saw it as an opportunity for people who enjoyed doing things their own way, their own style and didn't wish to follow into the lights of the sky like others we're unique.

Your family wouldn't be appreciating your actions but it didn't matter. It realistically couldn't no matter how much they perhaps frowned at the idea. You could perhaps go into depth of how it wasn't selling your body but allowing it to be seen, allowing others to get a taste of the salt and the the aroma of flavours their hearts desire, but never fully satisfied.

Pole-Dancing wasn't something you'd be opposed to doing by any means. Watching the way they drift through the air, holding onto the bar with such pristine confidence and high agility hit your stomach in all the right ways. Nimble and soft fingers holding onto the pole with such grace their body's dancing into the fire of the night, other's moving with grace and affirmation.

The men and women watching their every action their every step with such a wide eye their lustful thoughts screaming with such a power your own ears rang. Black stiletto's clinging to the poles with a strength that made you doubt your own abilities despite having the darkest of secrets lingering on thoughts.

Quiet girls always tend to have the deepest of desires, the fieriest of personality. The set determination on being quiet, being forgotten and not wanting to be seen always portrays just how difficult life could dance around in a sea of wonder and mystery.

The air smelt so much of blood sweat and tears, the smoke driving the fuel into everyone's body, an ignition lighting up. You turned towards the bar deciding to opt on a drink, probably a hardcore whiskey if you wanted to get through this alive and sane, the burning feeling would ground you heavily to reality.

Turning on your heels, your contrasting deep-blood heels clacked heavily on the floor, treading with a walk that helped you do the one thing you'd avoided doing. Being seen.

Eyes watched, heads tilted and words of whisper drifted across the room as you brought the attention away from the other worker's sensing some hard glares and other longing looks. It was no secret you had the looks, it was just never in your cards, not your line of sight, but the devil didn't always play with fire until pushed within the flames.

"Whiskey neat please," your voice was firm and held no conversation for an argument.

The barman glanced at you and you simply watched as his eyes glanced at you, looking you up and down. You could practically feel the budge in his pants grow from here and the self-refraining you were doing from rolling your eyes was repulsing.

You weren't about to start off your first time in this place by pissing off the men you could encounter more often in telling them you not into indulging in their acts. Explaining to men who couldn't understand the word no when it comes to simply not being interested in them was not a path you cared to go down for the time being, instead settling on biting your tongue.

Sure, it didn't mean you couldn't make some impressions around here though. You'd already made a rather splendid entrance by sauntering around capturing lingering eyes of the men and women which allowed your red tinted lips to tilt upwards.

The barman worked nimbly, his hands being heavy but not without meaning as he flipped bottles around like he was performing an act. Normally this would entice most women to jump for joy and use some ogle eyes towards him. However, you were in fact not most women, you simply walked through the world of shadows until you decided to finally allow the light to kiss your skin in all the right areas.

He slowly slid the drink down to you as you tossed him the dollar bills owed and sauntered off in means to find the owner of this establishment. The music moved above you like puppet's on a string as you did your best to try and move through the blinding strobe lights and bodies mingling into one.

Guessing that the owner would find you before you found them, your body decided to make it's way over to a table waiting for them to arrive with introductions, you crossed your legs simply playing with the bottom of the whiskey glass, swirling it around for play as you chucked it down your throat.

The feeling of the burn hit you instantly and you squinted for a moment before a heavy sigh escaped the opening of your lips leaning back in the chair once again becoming one with the shadows. Besides the demons in everyone else's heads seemed to be having their own rituals one of which you weren't enticed on indulging in such acts.

The approaching sound of heels made your body almost churn with anxiety for reasons currently unknown to you.

The approaching sound of heels made your body almost churn with anxiety for reasons currently unknown to you. Doing well to not attract attention you glanced through your glass trying to picture who was approaching and a flash of red curls took through the reflection.

Your lips tilted upwards in a mischievous smirk as you leaned back in your seat, a feeling of excitement coursing through your veins. Your mind wandered as you presumed the mystery woman was approaching ready to allure you into sinful acts of seduction and dance through desire into the night.

Instead, what was not predicted was the black stiletto heels coming to a stand still right behind your table, a hot and heavy breath lingering in your ear. Your body tensed and you felt the smirk dripping from the woman behind you as you tilted your head turning around to be met with someone who should be the devil in disguise, one to lure you entirely out of the shadows and touch the fires to ignite you entirely.

"You must be Y/N. Y/LN. I am Natasha Romanoff, Miss Romanoff to you. Owner of Desiring ignition. I will interview you in the back rooms if you don't mind?" her voice asking a question but orders slipping from the sinful tongue.

Your body moved before your lips did and you found yourself following after the redhead like an obedient dog, for a minute forgetting yourself entirely and not thinking, just acting like a string was tugging you along.

Her red hair was distinctive even against the darkened tone of the room, the lights dimming in and out didn't affect it as it shone like fire and ash, the devil reincarnated you knew. Her hips swayed with an intent to drive a man wild but in a way she didn't wish for any of them, simply alluding to her own intoxicating beauty, poison and toxic.

The eyes followed you both and you scampered after her down a neon-purple hallway, the colour's almost blinding you within a trance. Finding your bearings you knew you'd need to pull yourself together if you wanted this job so decided to play in the same game, the same chess board. Play with the devil.

Her hands clasped tightly around the handle as Miss Romanoff lead you into what you presumed to be her office before shutting the door behind her. The noise seemed to almost be drowned out now, as though she'd installed noise cancellation into her office.

Your eyes scanned the room trying to analyse and get anything you could on this woman. You'd always liked to get to know someone through their surroundings and what that said person associates themselves with, especially if it works in your favour.

The office itself was dimly lit but well cleaned and decorated minimally. To your left there was a desk, mahogany coloured with 2 chairs on ether side, the desk holding files that your eyes couldn't capture from the distance you stood. A solemn picture held itself strongly on the desk of what you could make out to be a younger blonde woman, perhaps the same age as you or a couple years older.

The redhead nodded her head towards the chair on the other side of her desk, before sitting down on a black leather one herself. Even sat down in the dimly lit office you could tell she was a woman of business, not one to be meddled with nor to cross without paying the price which for yourself was bad given your track record of loving to stir the pot.

Her eyes lingered over your own for a while examining you, looking you up and down in a way your body almost jolted at the sheer intensity of her gaze. Not wanting to keep the older woman wanting any longer, your feet moved on the own accord sitting down on the chair opposite of her. Her posture was still up straight, impossibly held and elegant opposite of your own.

"So," she began by looking through your files as though you'd be arrested under a warrant issued for the most wanted criminal.

"You've got good grades from schools, a track record of not seeming to show herself within public eye and even held debates and meetings within clubs. Your jobs previously consist of coffee shops and waiting so what exactly is it you have to offer here," she stated her voice was laced with disdain and annoyance.

"Well that's correct yes, but I have goals in life and things I need to achieve. I can't get there without doing this first, trust me it's a last resort," you replied cringing inwardly at your response.

It was a stupid mistake you'd created by saying this job was a last resort. That would be the last thing this goddess of a pain was waiting to hear, especially when wanting to employ you. You'd fucked up royally but like she stated, you had a tendency for debate clubs and there was nothing better you were good at than worming you way into or out of situations.

Her eyebrows shot upwards at your response and you watched with fear as the redhead perused her lips together eyeing you once again with a look of utter irritation.

"So you see us as a last resort?" She asked stiffly.

"No, nothing like that-" you tried to reason but her hand waved in the air dismissing your comment before you'd began.

"Y/L/N. Do you know how many people come here asking for jobs hm?" Her head titled to the side lips twitching while watching you squirm.

"No..."

"Over 200. How many do you reckon we employ exactly?"

The venom and toxic poison in her voice almost sent you spiralling you couldn't help but feel entirely hooked on it. Yet the feeling in your mind told you to run, leave before you headed down the road of embarrassment and utter danger.

"I'm not sure, Miss Romanoff," you voice was surprisingly even for someone being scolded in a private office room.

"The answer is 4% out of those 200 get employed. Yet, a silly girl like you walks along struts in like she owns the fucking place and says it's a last resort," she taps her finger on the side of her face mockingly.

"No.. I can dance and I'm incredibly talented on a pole," you tried to reason but she once again shushed you in a dismissive tone.

"You're dismissed off you go," she shooed you off and your legs stood by themselves your mind no longer in control of your body.

As your body walked towards the door head daring not to look back your hands went towards the door handle, before lingering on the metal for a moment. Your mind danced away thinking of thoughts and how you couldn't give up so easily. You came in this bar, this strip-club looking for a job and you'd be damned to go without one. Sure the woman behind you was a stole cold bitch, but she came with fire. You had the gasoline to set this place alight.

Turning on your heels, you faced the older woman who went from looking down at her files with disinterest to whipping her head up. Miss Romanoff tilted her head to the side as you approached with a surge of confidence that you didn't know you had running through your veins setting your blood alight. Your body leaning over her desk you smirked as she watched and you could sense her tense beneath you.

"Let me show you what I can do," your voice was whispered with sultry and laced with such confidence that was missing moments ago.

The redhead thought for a moment, her lips twitching ever so slightly at the sides before tilting up. She removed herself from her chair carrying her composure elegantly as ever before entering your personal space.

"Be my guest, show me what you can do," she smirked.

Before you could even blink, Miss Romanoff snatched your hand and lead you out of her office towards one of the unoccupied rooms. The sparks you felt when her hand clasped your hand and rising towards your wrist jolted your stomach giving you somersault's.

She on the other hand, snatched her hand away as quickly as she took it and you weren't sure why that caused such a sting within you. The older woman wasn't required to touch you in any way, but her response was as though she'd been burnt in opposition to your own body's reaction wanting to feel her touch ignite you more.

Suddenly the vast realisation of reality crashed down on you and your stomach churned in thought. Your mindset couldn't be thinking this type of way in any shape or form towards someone who could perhaps be your boss. This wasn't about to become some cliche film style where you fuck your boss, you couldn't give her that style of power.

Yet, as you let your mind indulge further in thoughts, she wasn't your boss. Not yet and not now, besides if you wanted this job a thirst to prove yourself to the flames of hell as she was, you were going to have to join the game.

Heading further down the hall, Natasha stopped at the door to her left and you titled your head in anticipation. The feeling of not knowing what you could possibly find was always thrilling yet had an edge of dread that filled your lungs and ran through your veins.

Observing her silently, you watched the redhead slip out a singular key from her pocket before slipping it with ease into the lock and turning it. Her hand which you tried definitely too hard to not focus on wrapped around the handle turning it before standing to the side awaiting you to head inside.

Silently entering the room, you found yourself coming to a sudden halt at the sight that stood before you. A singular pole stood in the middle of the room, tall and with a bolden look about it almost calling to you begging you to dance upon it. Towards the corner of the room lay what you predicted to be a lot of BDSM toys ranging from handcuffs and blindfolds to nipple clamps and leg spreaders.

Your cheeks flushed heavily at the sight as heat ran through your body and you found yourself turning away from the toys, eyes instead landing on a chaise lounge. The furniture was a deep red, crimson in fact darkened like the blood flushing heavily through your veins, perhaps darker than Ms Romanoff's hair. Turning your head in her direction you realised she'd been watching your reaction as you absorbed and gawked at the room, causing you to flush even further.

The older woman simply smirked at you before making her way over to the chaise lounge, looking you up and down in what you originally thought was a judgmental look now seemed otherwise, before sitting with determination down onto the chair.

For a moment it was silence as she only stared at you examining you for a mere moments that felt like hours before rolling her eyes and scoffing. Her hand raised upwards as her index finger- that looked incredible you might add- came out and directed at the pole giving you a pointed look. Realisation hit your face and you realised what the redhead was asking of you, which caused all sorts of emotions to run through your head.

She was asking you to to give a full example of how you'd dance within her club, within her line of work and show yourself. Normally this wouldn't be a bother as you'd come to a damn strip-club for god sake, but it was the idea of dancing alone with her that sent your nerves spiralling and your body shaking beneath you.

Still, there was no point in arguments, you'd been the one to suggest showing her, but in hopes of a more lively atmosphere. Instead Miss. Romanoff had lead you to a secluded room one of which held what you predicted secrets hiding within the 4 walls for you to dance in.

Sucking in a tight breath you closed your eyes tightly shut counting to 3 before opening them once more. Getting your bearings around you, you strutted to the pole making sure to remove the jacket that clung tightly to your skin hugging you in all the right places. The jacket was placed to the side of Natasha and you tried not to smirk too much at the feeling of her eyes travelling over your form.

Her body stood up, walking over to a speaker in the corner causing you body to tense up slightly. If it was too loud it was sure to cause an uproar of attention that in this current moment you didn't want. Your mind was too focused on earning the approval and the full attention of the redhead selfishly to yourself despite wishing that you didn't indulge in such sinful acts.

You removed your pants, leaving yourself in only your polo shirt and underwear, trying your best not to make any sort of contact with her. You could have done pole-dancing in your pants but it wasn't a risk worth taking if you didn't want any slip ups and needed the grip. Instead you walked over to the pole closing your eyes tightly before opening them and glancing over at Miss Romanoff.

Her head was tilted to the side and you were almost convinced her eyes that you noticed earlier were the shade of emerald green like the piercing ground of earth were almost charcoal now, luring you into the mist of hazing sinful creatures and touching the igniting flame. Instead of contemplating thoughts any longer you let out a mere nod towards the older woman and she smirked turning on a song that widened your eyes as, girls girls girls by FLETCHER began to echo through the room.

Trying to once again ignore the intriguing implications behind the song you stepped forward flexing your hand back and forth continuously before gripping onto the pole tightly with your left hand. Your fingers curled instinctively around the metal bar and you cleared your mind. One of the first things you'd learnt about dancing and when understanding how to use the effective ways of pole-dancing was don't think just act.

You let your mind carry through the music eliciting the illusions of thoughts and song's as your body carried you through. You started off smoothly, swinging your way seductively around the pole keeping your outside leg straight before pivoting your inside foot at the same time.

Your mind carried through song as the beat's began to pick up, your outside foot worked through muscle memory hooking around the pole before your other joined gripping tightly.

As soon as you felt your body securely fitted on the pole your hips moved in ways of wonder as though art itself couldn't touch through paintings of masterpieces. Your back arched and your hip swayed in beat swinging yourself around the pole before your body flipped itself in ways of wonder, dancing and spinning with everything it had.

The song slowly began to draw to a close and it was then your eyes chose to linger from being shut as you made your distinctive signature move, swinging yourself around with a grace you didn't know was within you. Your body swung from the top to the bottom of the pole in the most seductive way possible as your fingers crossed over, before your eyes drifted to the red head.

It took everything within you not to let out a shit-eating grin when you noticed the gawking from Miss Romanoff who looked like she was ready to eat you up whole. Given any other circumstances you would have flushed or felt self-conscious, but instead you embraced the feeling of confidence as you gently slithered off the pole a laugh almost sliding past your lips.

You sauntered over to the older woman, teasing leaning over her body to grab your jacket only to be yanked down onto the couch. You felt the blood run course through your body you heart pounding so loudly you'd not be surprised if she could hear it herself. The room came to a heated silence, the tension thick and easily cut with a knife. Natasha's hand came up to cup your jaw tilting it to the side almost as though she wanted to judge that part of you too, or better yet distract herself from what she was initially going to do.

"Tomorrow, 8:30pm your shift will begin. I recommend not arriving late, or better yet arrive earlier to prepare yourself. You work hours will differ but tomorrow you'll be finishing at 3:30am. Understand sweetheart?" Her voice husked out and you were almost putty in her hands once more.

Your head nodded unconsciously, the primal instinct in you roaring to obey your now boss's instructions. The feeling of disgust ran through your body at the realisation of what you'd just performed despite it being your job area now. It wasn't the fact you'd pole-danced it was the secluded room and the song that made your body squirm.

The redhead seemed to thrive in amusement on that power and you weren't sure whether the heat that ran to your core was feelings you wished you didn't have or anger that turned into the feeling of lust, perhaps both. Her hand tightened on your chip ever so slightly to the point you thought her nails may cause intends within your skin, marking like a hot poker within it.

"Oh no, none of that. You use words to me okay? So do you understand dorogaya?" her tone showed no time from you for disagreement.

"Yes, I understand Miss. Romanoff," your voice was strong and assertive despite inside your body was a mess of sweat and utter chaos.

Natasha leaned back, stretching her arms across the couch staring at you for a moment before taking her lip between her teeth, clamping down hard. The sight was enough to send a hot gush of wetness between your legs and your mind screamed at you in retaliation, she was your boss. Her teeth gently let her lips go with a pop before standing up and walking up to the door, swinging it open with ease staring back at you with an expected look.

"Good girl," she whispered out her lips tilting up dangerously as your fixed your tousled hair that had become slightly damaged from dancing.

Your body reacted once more to the words almost jolting in response, but you did well to keep yourself refrained and intact. Instead you simply grabbed your belongings nodding towards the woman and headed straight for the main exit. Perhaps the acts you were prepared to partake in was deemed as sinful and immoral, you wouldn't give so much as a glance if they were. It felt like the devil was standing their glaring into your soul and you didn't care for anything else other than entering the gates and feeling the flames wrap around your body.

The next evening went as smooth as it could, the blasting of the music as your body danced in between of time to the tunes. Your personal favourite was the one's that went sensual before picking pace as it allowed you to do your signature moved before flaunting around people in a seductive manner. You'd thrived on how the men and women gawked at your, eyes popping out of their heads, drooling from the mouth like you were a treat they had to have.

Fellow colleague's had taken up on asking advice, specifically your new favourite Wanda who you added on further inspection was quite a looker. The way she'd bounce her brunette curls around her face as she danced into the night like nobody was watching always had you admiring her.

She herself had wanted tips from you, always seemingly interested by your dancing to the way you move on a pole, her eyes always lingering in sheer awe and amazement as though you personally had placed each star drifting through the sky. Yet, you always felt another pair of eyes, heavy and dark lingering in the shadows.

It was the type of shadow you'd spent your whole life hiding within but this aspect was dangerous. It felt cold mixed with fire alike, bonding in ways it shouldn't mix. The soul being ice and chilled to the bone with fire in the centre waiting to burn itself from the ground up. You constantly sensed the lingering eyes on your body but chose to ignore it, for you knew the consequences of the danger, you knew who those eyes belonged to you just couldn't face them to admit it.

It continued for the next week until Saturday came faster than anticipated. Your legs carried you through the building with ease and a sense of calm now almost as though you'd been there for years. In reality you'd become rather content with the building of Desiring ignition. You'd scarcely interacted with Natasha though, (thank god.)

It wasn't the exact concept of fearing the woman, no it wasn't that. It was the way she made you feel. It was like feeling towards the devil, it's forbidden you see red with anger, lust the picture painted of danger and intoxicating aroma.

You'd done well in avoiding the older woman but she did appear to be making it easer than anticipated, despite knowing the one hiding in the shadows, lingering not wishing to be seen but knowing you felt her presence seemed to enough for the older woman.

You had settled on something different this time, usually not opting for dresses preferring to dress loose but certainly stylish all the same. However this time, you'd decided to rock the boat and you weren't sure why.

Instead you'd settled on a deep emerald green, darkened than usual but curved around your body clinging in all the right ways. The anticipation and adrenaline of the reactions you'd receive left your mind racing, despite not wanting to show anything off entirely. Definitely not for her..

Directing yourself towards the bar, you walked over greeting who you'd now become accustomed to know as Bucky. He actually was opposing to what you expected after your encounter on the first night, he was just hesitant of newcomers. Instead now you'd become close to the man always offering a term of greeting.

"Same as usual?" He questioned winking as you both knew it was wrong to drink on the job.

Albeit it was hardly your fault, when it came to this job and work environment you'd hardly be faulted for having the odd drink to get by. Most days we're enjoyable, the women ogling over you and many wanting to touch what their desired hearts couldn't reach, like seeing a pebble in the ocean before the sea carries it out, perfectly sculpted but not yours to own.

Your lips curved up into a smirk filled with fire and mischief, the look of mystery plastered all over your face. Not a word spoken, your head nodded into his direction and Bucky nodded once in return. His body moved swiftly, preparing a small yet rather what the average person would deem an intoxicating strong drink for yourself as he slid it over.

Taking your drink you sipped away at it as you made your way onto the floor, seemingly into the sea of people. It was busy & you only knew it was going to get busier. Besides; you had an hour to kill before even remotely starting your shift so you might as well busy yourself.

It started simple, sitting down mingling with guests, eyeing up who was necessarily your desire for the night. All you needed was the money, even with the weighing guilt that sometimes poured over your head you needed to make your way into the world.

God only knows how you'd found yourself onto the dance floor, one moment you were sipping on your drink waiting for the beginning of your shift the next you were dragged onto the dance floor by a taller and seemingly older brunette. Her hands were dragging across your waist causing your face to flush.

Were you sure you were entirely within protocols here? Not at all, yet there was no rules you couldn't dance with the paying guests before your own night began. Though you were indeed certain Miss. Romanoff may cause some issues with this.

Alcohol wasn't even the reason for your confidence, it felt like something was drawing you to push boundaries that night to tempt yourself into desired that you shouldn't cross. You could say you don't bring your guests into the bedsheets like you do your demons but as the brunette's hands grazed across your stomach for a moment you short circuited.

You found your head tilting an angle towards Bucky's direction who was eyeing you with a concerned expression painted upon his face. His frown that narrowed through his forehead, eyes giving a dangerous tone, almost trying to warn you.

Still, you shrugged it off instead allowing the touch of another burn your skin though whether it was a burn of desire or the burn of hell you weren't sure. You were playing with the fires of lucifer here & partially enjoying yourself. Lips grazed slightly over your neck, almost allowing you to loose yourself instantly without a sudden care or thought.

People were silencing around you within beats of the music, like a chill had passed down from a frost bite. They were parting like royalty had arrived themselves, but you were completely unaware in your own mindset in your own thoughts.

Lips grazed your neck sloppily, yet it burnt like an ignition hell fire in your skin. Yet your mind was dancing somewhere else or better yet, someone else. It was like someone snapped a finger, as within a second like you'd blinked an eye and the warmth from behind you disappeared.

Widening your eyes, you opened them but a hand snatched you spinning you straight into a body. You stumbled forward legs like jelly, hands still shaking with adrenaline as their perfume invaded your senses. It was a sexy perfume smell no doubt, the aroma making it's way into your nose poisoning you. You'd almost breathed in, wanting more of the intoxicating taste of it, yet that wouldn't be ve-

Shit. Shit, shit shit.

If your suspicions were correct, which you were highly convinced they were then the perfume and the person you'd been dragged into was someone you dreaded finding you in that compromising position. A whisper drew you from the dread in the pit of your stomach and your stressing mindset as they leaned towards you.

"Enjoying yourself darling?" The voice carried the familiar edge you dreaded.

The feeling of bile rose in your throat from sheer anxiety and you gulped hard to keep yourself at bay. Slowly looking up, your eyes met the all too familiar green ones.. One's you could get lost in and fantasise about consi-

No, not to be thought of right now.

Her eyebrows were arched consistently and the familiar look of a stern facial expression was painted on your Boss's, Miss. Romanoff's face. Her lips were painted a blood deep red and the blush on her cheeks were making your legs like jelly, let alone your stomach's feeling of somersaults.

"I..." Stuttering voices was all you could muster right now.

A swift finger placed on your lips was all it took for your cheeks to hear up and you were certainly an embarrassing jumble of mess in front of her and everyone around you.

"Shh," her voice carried an authoritative tone but you were almost certain you could sense a lace of.. jealousy?

Surely that was an impossibility; she had nothing to be jealous about besides she was your boss, albeit a damn sexy one. Reality hitting back to you slowly you sensed the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and wanted in that moment for the ground to swallow you whole.

Gone was that confident attitude you easily found yourself mustering up to her, instead replaced with a timid jealous woman wanting nothing more but to run for your life. Your eyes didn't dare leave hers despite their sea of pure intensity and fire, though you didn't think you were capable of looking away even if you tried to.

A quick flick of her hand could be seen from your peripheral vision and as if someone had press play on a remote, the crowds resumed. Colleagues danced on laps, poles and bar stools while the noise resumed like they'd been frozen in time.

Before you even had the chance to speak, you were spun back around rather forcefully. However rather than letting you go, her hands yanked you flush against her chest, allowing you to feel her radiant body heat and the heat to come back to your cheeks once more.

Hands roamed over your body while her lips moved to your ear, a sultry almost lustful voice following suite.

"Well well, what was that little stunt hm? Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for private shows not giving a full on public display of borderline sex," she snapped though her hands still cupped your hips.

"I.. I can explain..."

Her hands cupped your clothed cunt causing you to cut your sentence off and gasp out. Embarrassingly, your body jerked forward into her hand showing how putty you were, easily giving into your boss.

"No, no I don't think so. You wanted a public stunt like that hm? Who's breasts are these?"

Her hand moved up to cup them, needing them through your dress causing you to almost cry out. You couldn't lie, you were grateful for the atmosphere being so loud and disoriented otherwise you'd have cried out from sheer embarrassment.

"M-Mine," you whispered through a half gasp earning you to feel her knee rub you subtly once more in your lower region.

"Wrong answer, don't get it wrong again hm?" She said through semi-gritted teeth and your body melted back into her.

Unsure of the adrenaline you had coursing through your veins you spun around and found some form of confidence in you to cup her own lower region.

"Yours," you whisper-shouted back due to the strength of the music, though your voice partially wavered.

It was obvious she was caught off guard through the sheer surprise that danced like the force of nature the wind dancing with the trees on a stormy night. Miss.Romanoff's lips tilted upwards into a smirk and without a word or a warning her hand clasped onto yours and you were being pulled swiftly down corridors.

Everything seemed to pass you buy in a blur as you had no recollection of one door to the next, nor did you dare to look at any faces glancing and gawking your way. Simply you decided to be an obedient little thing and follow Miss. Romanoff towards wherever she was leading you.

Suddenly, you came to a halt in front of a locked door slowly coming to the realisation this was Miss.Romanoff's personal room; no one was ever allowed to enter. A surge of some sort of excitement flooded the course of your veins in some way as she led you through.

Locking it behind her she pointed to her own personal chaise lounge and you obediently followed her instructions like a lost puppy, almost falling over your own feet to get to it. A low chuckle left her lips sending chills upon chills down your spine and embarrassingly hitting your core (that was probably now soaked.)

"Miss Romanoff I don't know if this is-"

"Natasha," she cut you off instantly smirking at you.

You gawked at the older woman like she'd just spoken in a foreign language. However she brushed it off, slowly approaching you like an animal would it's prey. Lifting your chin up she grinned down at you like a cheshire cat before huskily speaking.

"Call me Natasha. Though I'd also prefer to be called a different name, can your pretty little brain think of what that is?" She asked lustfully.

Gulping you had a smart idea, but didn't want to ask a stupid question. So you kept your mouth shut but apparently Natasha had other idea's towards your 'misbehaviour.'

"Colour," her voice was softer for a moment only by a slight tone but you sensed it.

It almost made you crack for a moment and come to your senses. An employee couldn't- shouldn't sleep with their boss. Yet, as you believed earlier the devil was technically an angel first and you wanted to touch the fire, you wanted her to touch you. However, it was evidence you were taking too long as you'd received an arched eyebrow and she grabbed you firmly by the chin awaiting her answer.

"Green but.. this is wrong you're my.."

A gasp cut you off as she placed her lips instantly on your neck biting down hard before sucking. You felt Natasha's lips trail up and down biting an area she could, knowing instantly it was going to leave a mark. Moans elicited past your lips as you found your head slowly adjusting to give more access.

She sucked and nipped at your skin like her life depended on it, it was intoxicating. She was starting a fire within you no one else could ever ignite. Natasha kissed her way back up to your face before whispering sultry into your earlobe.

"Now you want to keep your job don't you, you want to be a good girl for me?"

"Y-Yes I do Natasha," you went to move your hands in her hair when you felt something restrict you.

A deep blood red-handcuffs the same shade as her hair was holding you back and your eyes widened in realisation. The demon's in your head were fighting with each other as you felt her clamber her way into your lap.

"Now.. you're going to behave for mommy aren't you?"

She grinned at you arching an eyebrow while her plump red lips glistened under the dim lights. You couldn't bring yourself to respond to Natasha, you felt your stomach twisting in knots at the word and your brain go fuzzy.

Restriction on your neck caused your airways to tighten slightly, not too much but the pressure sent a heat to your core you didn't know could happen. She frowned at you sternly, a small crease of annoyance in between her forehead that you found dangerously hot and cute at once.

"Don't make ask twice detka, you should know in the time you've worked for me I hate repeating myself. Now be a good slut and respond."

Not wanting to face the consequences of hell knows what she'd do you nodded instantly a feeling of nervousness that was fuelled by desire and lust rising within you.

"Yes mommy, I'll behave. I promise!"

Your response pleased her, yet your brain didn't have much time to respond as a loud groan escaped your lips. The buzzing sensation pressed against your panties sent you spiralling into oblivion. Natasha captured your lips with her own, red lipstick smearing your own with a kiss, sealing your fate. Signing your soul to the devil seemed like a fate that could send anyone into a panic, but when it was Natasha Romanoff, it was pure bliss.

"Your moans are a delight to my ear sweet girl," her whispers against your lips only spurred you on further.

You found your hips grinding down against the toy your bottom lip become broken and bruised from how hard you were biting it. A small slap to the thigh sent you jolting as you looked up to see Natasha's stern look.

"You move when I tell you to move slut," she slurred out high on lust and desire and you felt a spiral of wetness shoot down to your glistening pussy that was most definitely dripping with desire.

You felt the pressure of the toy increase levels and it took you everything not to cry out in absolute ecstasy but the overwhelming stimulation, it was so intense your toes could curl.

"You're already coming undone are you for your mommy?" Natasha bit down slightly on your ear lobe her fingers trailing up to your throat once more as she whispers into your ear.

"When you lay down on the chaise lounge you'll be screaming my name tonight darling. Yet, did you honestly think that you could get away with that game Y/N?" Her voice dragged down your body as quickly as possible.

Teeth sunk into your skin, nipping sucking and licking into the depths of every single area Natasha could reach. You hands tried to fling over your mouth to muffle your moans, yet your restraining handcuffs brought you back to reality.

"They'll hear Na- Mommy," Your slip-up didn't go unnoticed as a slap to your thigh and a hard bite on your chest caused a cry out from your lips.

"Let them hear you. You wanted a show, I have every intention of giving you one."

Before your thoughts could catch up to your lips a rip echoed through the room as a strength had come from the redhead herself. Gasping as she put some pressure on your clit the intense feeling driving your body into an overwhelming feeling.

As her fingers pressed against your puffy lips you knew instantly you were getting addicted to the feeling; the ignition pushing you towards Natasha's capture. She was easily trying to capture her pray within you and you'd stupidly let her.

"Please.. I need more," You pleaded your brain foggy with lust and utter craving for Natasha in every way possible.

With a single flick of a switch you felt her turn the toy to maximum levels before her fingers were swiftly replaced with a lapping tongue. The cuffs that felt like chains kept to a wall yanked down as you tried to touch.

She spat on your clit and you felt the shit eating grin pass her lips as Natasha heard the familiar sound of tugging from them. Instead she tutted and her eyes grazed up connecting with your own, purposely dragging her tongue up your slit making you cry out from the intensity.

"You're a good girl aren't you hm? Taking your boss so well. Imagine if I got to do a public show with you.. God the way the crowds would go wild as I fucked you over and over again," Natasha lulled against your pussy.

The images dancing through your brain was sinful, absolutely disgusting to others but for some reason like you were trapped in a cage of sex you didn't care. Magic was a dangerous power and a dangerous curse yet she wheeled it all within this room, your body and your mind, your essence and soul.

As she shoved her tongue into your entrance another cry of intense joy, you weren't sure lust most definitely past your lips. Her free hand moved up to your breasts massaging the buds between her tips, sending you without permission releasing your juices all over her tongue.

Ms. Romanoff pulled back and the look on her face was not one of an impressed look, though that didn't stop her tongue swirling around her mouth getting the remaining taste left. That action alone sent another wave to your core despite the overwhelming feeling and you felt your legs like jelly simply from one round.

"Did I say you could cum?" Her voice was stern, boomed against the contrasting atmosphere of what the stench danced with sex, and sweat, desire and fire.

"I.. I didn't me-"

"Did. I. Say. You. Could. Cum?" She repeated her voice was filled with such an authoritative tone sending your mind back to your original meeting.

Had it not been for the handcuffs and the familiar stern look and not wanting any more disapproval from Natasha, you'd have coward away from embarrassment. Instead you shook your head wondering what on earth you'd gotten yourself into it wasn't like you were bound together but.. part of you lived from the excitement; she was a devil, demon of angel and hell with the need to feel her touch.

"No.. No Miss.Romanoff, you did not." Your voice rasped out exhausted from screaming already.

She stood up no word uttered and she disappeared around the back, leaving you to your thoughts for a moment. It felt like you were fucking with the goddess herself, but was it sanity? Was it safe to be sharing sheets and secrets behind closed doors? Possibly not, but her blood-red lips and curves of her body made it impossible not to fall into. A trap of love or lust, it wasn't even known to you within that sight, just the devil herself you'd taste it every-time.

A song brought you from your dancing curious thoughts, one that sent your body ice-cold and your eyes widening instantly. A song called 'Pray' You'd become one to recognise. It was a favourite with your regulars at the club. Except you hadn't quite realised Natasha herself had noticed, but you'd been proven quite wrong.

On the contrary, Natasha walked in with a thick deep red strap-on, one that was already wet ether with her spit or something else it was unknown. But, she knew and had seen it caused a rage in her she hated herself for. Yet, she had to have her way with you.

"Sit back," she ordered pleased instantly you'd complied with no sudden refusals or hesitation.

Without a warning she flung one leg over your body joined by the other leg, until she was sat in your lap straddling you. Instantly, a gut feeling surged through your veins flying through every pulse point sending a fire and ice in one through your very skin. Your suspicions were confirmed when she slowly started to move her hips on you with the strap on.

A lap-dance. A lap dance by Natasha Romanoff, your boss the fucking owner of Desiring ignition. Better yet it was with a strap on.

Her hips moved in a motion not even the most poisonous temptations of the world could, but Natasha out-beat them all. Her hands moved down her body over her hips and you watched in amazement as she began to thrust onto your leg while dancing like a majestic queen. Her moans spilled past her throat, giving you everything you desired sipping her up.

Your hands begged to move and your pussy pulsated allowing some juices to spill out. Your eye's pleaded with her to undo the cuffs but all you'd received in return, was a tut and a small pressure to your throat.

"You can touch soon detka. I'd like to have my fun now. Do you know how long I've waited to have my way with you?" She whispered her hips shaking and thrusting to the beat of the music.

"N-No," you answered honestly to mesmerised by her movements to figure out an answer.

"Since you first walked into that door. I needed you away so I didn't tempt myself with the cup of sinfulness, one that I shouldn't lead by. Yet, when I saw you dance.. Oh my sweet little slut. You were perfect. I needed to ruin all of you," she husked out shaking her strap slightly.

You almost came right from the scene in front of you, gaining your own kind of friction from her strap. However while the music beat sped up one lyric spurred her over the edge and caused her to break the chains of control, fly up from hell and take her prize.

'When she lays down to pray at night.. She'll be screaming my name.'

Something about that song lyric sent Natasha spurring forward and her hips bucked against your lap causing her to cry out in ecstasy. Her hands reached up undoing the cuffs breaking the barrier as your hands finally touched her hips, her olive silky skin feeling beautiful under your finger tips.

Her fingers suddenly managed to make their way underneath her body with a precision that seemed impossible to you and slammed themselves into your now over-stimulated pussy. You cried out in part-pain and mainly bliss the coil in your stomach building up.

She worked you like wonders themselves couldn't work the song blaring in the background. Natasha still continued to give you a lap-dance of sorts but mainly focused on getting the two of you off and fingered you hard and fast, her hips meeting some sort of thrust.

"Scream my name," left her lips and that's all it took.

The coil in your stomach snapped and you came once more all over her fingers, legs shaking and your eyes pooled with tears of joy from how incredible it felt. Natasha followed suite from the sight and the friction cumming all down her strap and some spilling onto your lap causing yourself to groan.

However, she had an ungodly amount of adrenaline pounding through her system as she clambered of your body leaning over your lips and throat demanding one thing of you.

"Suck."

Her voice was raspy sending a pool of wetness shooting down once more and you felt yourself let out some dripping juices by accident. You instantly took the strap on gagging on it as she shoved it deeply in your throat. Looking down, the sight was enough for Natasha to cum right there and then but she held it.

She wanted you to gag on her strap, shut your pretty little mouth up as she took in the sight of what was hers. Her sinful prize, her desired need was sucking her cock so well it was a bliss to see. Hearing you gag she rubbed your pussy once again causing you to cry out the stimulation being too much, yet Natasha ignored you.

She ignored you until your hips jerked up once more being greedy and desperate for her fingers or strap-on and she smirked in sheer delight. She'd made you putty in her hands. You didn't care anymore the manipulation of her job had worked wonders in your mind making it hazed with fuel of her touch and knowing only she could make you like this.

Clambering down, no warning was given as her cock suddenly found your puffy and over-stimulated entrance and her eyes drifted down. Natasha groaned at the sight, how ruined and how messy you were, wetness seeping down your thighs.

Not wanting to waist another minute, her cock slammed into you thrusting hard not giving you any time to adjust. Her lips moved fast and at a ferocious pace causing animalistic like grunts to leave your lips. Your mind danced with her and only her, it was like she'd made her mark engraved her and only her within it and you'd take it all, drink all of her and whatever she'd give you.

Sloppy slapping sounds hit the four walls of the room and her lips slammed into yours as she bit on your bottom lip. Your now free hands, moved into her hair tugging lightly causing a growl fit from an animal that could kill within seconds. Natasha kissed harder, hips slamming down without a single care and you felt yourself becoming close.

"Please.."

She grinned against your lips and you knew what was going to happen then and there. Your boss had won the game of the life time, her prize possession and puppet.

"Cum on mommy's cock like a good little stripper hmm? Let me take all of you," she husked out giving a particular hard thrust.

With that your juices hit her strap-on hard, flowing out of you like a river itself your mouth screaming her name while your body shivered. Hands clawing at her back now the sight was enough to send her spiralling, leaving you just enough time to recover to see the sight.

Her back arched, releasing her own as she had her eyes closed lips partially opened and skin slick with sweat and cum mixed from both of your spots.

Your eyes shut themselves sheer exhaustion taking in and all that could be heard was panting breaths in the room. It was as she leaned down you'd known how badly caught in the trap of lust you were with your own boss, her whispers filling the room.

"I've caught my own trap now, the devil got her prize. And I am far from finished with you yet, mommy's little stripper slut."

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#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #dark!natasha romanoff #stripclub owner!natasha romanoff #marvel fic #marvel

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angorwhosebabyisthis · 8 months ago

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tfw you write up meta posts about something that hits home hard for you for Personal Trauma Reasons, and your experiences are very relevant to explaining and discussing that dynamic, but you're also just like. okay how much of this do i want to include without dropping a Huge Trauma Bomb in the middle of a fandom essay lmao

(see: it is really upsetting to me how so much discussion of hermes' situation ignores, glosses over, or straight up mocks how incredibly traumatizing his situation with the animals would be, and not just for 'unfortunately not cut out to work in that job' reasons. the dynamic and attitudes are painfully familiar to me, and i've spent my entire life trapped in or trying to avoid them; it's fucked me up so bad that i do not own, care for, or cohabitate with animals by choice, and my mental health plummets when i have to do it anyway. it's not a janky empathy or bleeding-heart animal rights activist thing, it is awful to be in that position and it is awful because people involved are being pieces of shit, not because you Just Can't Handle It.)

[major cw: irl pet death, abuse, ableism, animal abuse, neglect, and cruelty. just absolutely serial killer shit]

(all of which is probably not too obtrusive of an I Have a Personal Bone to Pick Here to include in a fandom essay. 'this subject is especially raw to me because my piece of shit stepdad killed my elderly cat in an exceedingly cruel, drawn-out way, over the course of late fall up to now, because he knew i couldn't stop him. he has been openly happy to be rid of her, while talking cheerfully about how she's probably dead somewhere by now. he did this because he was annoyed that her litterbox stank when he didn't feel like stepping up to take care of it after i became too physically disabled to do it anymore' is mayhaps a bit much though lmao)

#whosebaby talks #ffxivtag #FF tag #cws in post #generally though major warnings for irl animal cruelty because boy is my meta colored by the fact that i have seen some shit lmao #the salt files #personal stuff #warning: worm grass

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storiesoflilies · 1 month ago

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the devil waits on the shore

synopsis: she was born with the mark of the devil of the sea on her wrist. everyone knew that he would come for her one day. she should be afraid… shouldn’t she? w.c: 1.3k.

pairing: pirate!toji fushiguro x f!reader

warnings: mild description of someone being touchy feely and gore, but otherwise sfw and no major warnings.

series masterlist / ao3

ACT 1

the sea knew her name.

it had known it even before she was born, whispered it into the curves of cliffs battered by salt and time. it would sing her name sometimes too, humming it along the hissing foam cradled by the shore. it was something soft, something like a prayer held within the crystal water cupped between a child’s palm.

she heard it call to her in her dreams too, as she stood someplace so far out that even the world had forgotten it was there. and the ever restless sea, whispering still, would stretch on forever and ever before her very eyes.

watching, yearning.

waiting.

for she carried its mark of blackened salt, and he was coming for her.

the devil of the sea.

her father once told her how the midwives had screamed the day she was born.

“m-marked,” one of them sputtered, falling over, a clattering pebble tumbling toward the sea. “marked by the devil she is.”

her parents hadn't understood what it was they meant, but her mother, soaked in the icy tendrils of a cold sweat, believed it in the way only a mother could. the hairs on the back of her neck clenched, a ferocious and violent itch burrowing its way into her scalp and mind. she clutched the fabric of her husband's worn coat, fingers tightening and tangling in the loose threads, desperately clawing at him with ragged nails like he was able to save them from this doom.

he couldn’t.

fathers, husbands – they are only men.

and what can a man do against the sea?

it was only when they had listened at night to the songs of the sailors, drunk on their lies and rum and whiskey, that they understood why the midwife had been so frightened.

oh, the girl with skin kissed by salt.

the sea devil’s love – he’ll come for her.

to claim her heart, her fate is drawn.

she’ll be lost to the tides before the break of dawn.

it wasn’t a song they sung often. but the legend of that pirate, that devil of the sea, was something they all knew far too well.

“she is cursed,” her mother gasped with dried, cracked lips burning from her falling tears. “and yet, she does not cry.”

(never.

to lose salt is a sin, a tragedy.)

her mark was blacker than coal, suffocating and and heavy against her skin like the legend it was bound to. it curled around her left wrist like a sleeping serpent, its surface rough and raised like an old scar, waiting to sink its teeth into her. once, she had held a friendly sea captain’s hand with that very hand, babbling at him to promise he would return soon to tell her stories of his all his adventures.

but he never did.

he was lost to the tides, along with all his crew.

word quickly spread amongst the patrons of the bars and brothels of the town, seeping between the cracks and crevices of rotting boards like burrowing mites. they all said her fingers were dipped in death, that she was not to be touched by any living being. the sea devil would hunt anyone that did the moment they went out to sea. in a fit of blind, superstitious rage, her mother wrapped her hand and wrist in many layers of thick bandages and clutched her shoulders with that same desperate hold she had on her husband all those years ago.

“you never take them off, you hear me?” she hissed, her gaze wild, the milk of her eyes split with raw lines of red.

it somehow reminded her of the preacher at the church, with his shaking, swollen hands stained with wine and holiness, who dreamed of something more than all… this.

she was shaken again, her head bobbing back and forth.

“do you hear me?”

could she?

above the call of the tide in the curl of the world, her fingers thrumming and throbbing beneath her tight wrappings, could she ever hear anything at all besides him? it was only by the gloss in her eyes and the little pout on her lip that her mother knew she had listened at all.

such was her life.

but she still had a naive, childish acceptance that this was just the way of world. a doom that was far off into the future that it would be a hundred years before it even came to fruition. it wasn’t really going to happen to her at all. her parents would make this all go away, and she would live her life and live in a castle, dressed in pearls and opulent silks.

it was the brashness of youth, a foolish belief that she was immortal, and that her soul wasn’t really tied to–

she didn’t even know his name.

the good, god-fearing sailors and her parents never spoke it aloud. to say it is to be cursed, they’d say, eyes dipping to the floorboards like they were afraid to even think it. but the pirates did. they spoke it into the curve of their tankards, muddled with frothy spit and toothless grins, or into the dark pocket of a coin purse, clinking with little riches. she finally heard it one day while passing by a brothel, watching a pirate bury his face into a barmaid’s bent, inviting neck.

“you know i’ve seen his ssssails today, don’t ya?” he slurred with a pop and a smack of his lips. “aye, the sea devil’s sails. i seen em’, i did.”

the woman only giggled. it was pretty, airy, like the song of a tiny little bell.

she always remembered that.

the pirate gripped a fistful of her red curls, strands of fire spilling from his rough hands. “c’mon, sweet thing. it’s my last night alive, toji fushiguro’s comin’ for me.”

a great gust of wind howled through the hooded street, sweeping through the woman’s lashing curls of fire and over her skin, like it was looking for something.

or, rather, someone.

(i see you,

i know you.)

the woman gasped, and so did she.

“see,” the man whispered, his bottom lip trembling under the weight of his fate. “he’s coming for me.”

toji fushiguro.

it was like the floodgates had opened, and now, she couldn’t stop hearing more and more about the devil she shared a red string with. the man who could never die, though was he ever a man to begin with? he was more of a god, really. a calamitous god of salt and smoke and bone who sailed a ship made from shadows. he had haunted the oceans for hundreds of years. the pirates would whisper among themselves at the docks, scraping away at barnacle infested wood. he’s what’s rotten with the world, they all said. a calamity that blows through entire fleets and sea villages to leave nothing but corpses and crabs, their chests carved out and bones glistening in the light of a red dawn.

all their hearts missing.

she wondered if her devil ate them, and if he would eat hers too when he came for her.

and yet, there was still that fragile sense of youth desperately clinging to her, begging her not to give in and believe a single word about devils and gods and death. but it wasn’t until sometime later, when she saw that barmaid with her hair of molten rubies tumbling down her bare back, staring out toward the ocean, that she knew the legend of the devil of the sea was real.

“he didn’t come back, did he?” she asked before she could stop herself.

the barmaid turned, her cheeks hollowed and sunken, staring at her and her wrapped hand like she wasn’t sure if she was an apparition. and then, she only shook her head, before walking back into the brothel that was her world in a haze of desire and pipe smoke. whatever youth she had left died that day, disappearing along with that woman and her pirate.

her dreams that night were plagued by the sea, still beating, bloody hearts washing up pathetically on a red red shore. and, of course, the song of her name played on the lips of the sea.

it felt like a prayer.

(you are mine,

of course.)

𖤓

#toji x y/n #toji x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fic #jjk au #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fic

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yaniluvs · 1 month ago

Text

wings of a broken heart, fly away 日 ── stranded human falls for the faerie who heals him, but love masks a cruel fate.

𓍯 prince!hyunjin ʚଓ fem-faerie!reader ：（ 𝒾 ） 14k ── ༯ ONESHOT, fantasy, mystical, skz ensemble, humor, romance, gore, fluff, flirting, kisses, open ending, hurting, faerieland, royal au, mystery, clean, heartbreak (if it wasn't obvious from the title.. ><), cliffhanger, major plot twist, blood, betrayals. ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY. /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ yani's active era now in action. y'all are not gonna like this one.. correct me if i'm wrong in the comments ;) !! a warning, hope you're mentally prepared for this, and please reread the info. so that you don't come attack me after.. !! i don't think it really came out as i wanted it to, but well, it's out anyway. i could do better, sorry if it wasn't to your expectations !! kinda different from my usual works :<. please note this is all out of my mere delusions and imaginations ; nothing relates to the idol irl, and it’s all fiction, so take it with a grain of salt. comments, requests, asks, likes, follows and reblogs are always appreciated ! comment/ask if you want to be added to my mastertag ! happy reading <3

the dewmist woods were alive with a thousand shades of green. sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the moss-covered ground in soft gold. the air carried the mingling scents of wildflowers, dew, and the sweet aroma of nectar. this wasn’t an ordinary forest—it was an untouched realm, brimming with magic and mystery. trees towered into the heavens, their trunks wrapped in glowing vines, while exotic fruits of every imaginable hue hung from branches. the fruits shimmered like jewels—pearly white starfruits, golden berries that sparkled like fireflies, and plum-sized fruits that emitted a soft lilac glow.

outside of the woods, by the shore, a clearing bustled with activity. a makeshift boat, carefully pieced together over years of labor, rested on a carpet of moss. it was a beautiful thing—its base carved from sturdy driftwood and reinforced with planks salvaged from shipwrecks found near the island's shores. the sails were stitched together from woven leaves, strengthened with threads of a fabric that resembled a bit with silk, with a hint of magic. the boat’s elegance was matched only by the bittersweet air surrounding it.

y/n stood a few paces away, her light brown hair catching the sun as she watched her friends—family, now, make the final preparations. she wore a flowing dress of woven golden petals, its edges fluttering like butterfly wings with each soft breeze. her wings, radiant and white with streaks of yellow, were hidden for now, as they often were when she felt nervous or uncertain. and today, she was both.

“y/n, stop fidgeting,” came a teasing voice.

she turned to see one of the eldest in the crew, adjusting the strap of a small pack slung across his shoulder. his raven hair gleamed, and his sharp eyes, though calm, held a glimmer of warmth. he looked like he always did—steady, dependable, and just a little smug.

“i’m not fidgeting!” y/n shot back, crossing her arms but unable to suppress a smile. “i’m just… making sure everything’s okay.”

“everything is fine, little fae,” the actual oldest called from the other side of the clearing, his blonde hair catching the light like spun gold. he was carrying a barrel onto the boat with ease, his strength making the task look effortless. “we’ve triple-checked everything. right, yaena?”

the lilac-haired elf nodded as she secured her quiver of arrows onto the side of the boat. her voice was calm and steady as always. “yes, but that doesn’t mean you get to slack off now, chris. we still need to balance the supplies better.”

“i’m not slacking off! i’m just saying y/n doesn’t need to worry so much,” chris replied with a playful grin.

“she worries because she cares,” rina interjected, her brown hair tied back in a braid adorned with small, glowing flowers. she was arranging bundles of food—berries, fruits, and enchanted nuts—into small satchels. “and honestly, we could use a little more care sometimes.”

“stop babying her,” minho said, though there was no bite to his words. he glanced at y/n with a smirk. “you’ll have felix here. if anything happens, he’ll just turn invisible and scare away whatever comes your way.”

felix, who was leaning against a tree with his silver hair catching the light, gave a soft chuckle. the younger one's deep voice carried effortlessly. “i don’t think that’s how invisibility works, but i’ll do my best.” he looked at y/n and added, “don’t worry, y/nnie. i’ll make sure nothing happens while they’re gone.” he pat her head, exaggerating his words.

“i’m not a kid, you know,” y/n protested, pouting slightly, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. “and i don’t need protection.”

felix raised an eyebrow. “right. because you’re going to take down a wild boar with your healing magic?”

y/n stuck out her tongue at him, and the group burst into laughter. “if i have to, i might!”

the humor did little to mask the weight of what was happening. this was the day. after years of dreaming, planning, and building, chris, minho, yaena, and rina were finally leaving dewmist woods in search of their kind. it wasn’t an easy choice—they all knew the island was a haven, and the outside world was an unknown. but the island had once been filled with faeries, elves, and other magical beings, and they couldn’t ignore the call to find out what had happened to them.

“alright, everyone, gather up!” chris called, clapping his hands.

the group formed a loose circle around the boat. the atmosphere shifted, becoming more somber.

he spoke first, his voice steady. “we don’t know how long this journey will take, but we promise to come back. and when we do, we’ll bring answers—maybe even more of our kind.”

yaena stepped forward, placing a hand on y/n’s shoulder. “take care of the forest while we’re gone. it’s our home, and it’s still full of magic. protect it, and protect each other.”

rina gave y/n a tight hug. “we’re going to miss your singing. don’t let felix teach you any bad habits while we’re gone.”

“i heard that,” felix muttered, though his tone was fond.

finally, minho crouched slightly to look y/n in the eye. his expression softened, something rare for him when he's with others; but definitely usual when he's with his favorite younger—who was more of a little sister . “stay safe, y/n. and don’t forget—you’re stronger than you think. even if you’re not out there fighting, you’re the heart of this group.”

y/n blinked quickly, trying to hold back tears. she nodded, her voice small but steady. “you all better come back. promise me.”

“we promise,” chris said, placing a hand over his heart.

the group exchanged final hugs, their voices overlapping with goodbyes, reassurances, and half-teasing remarks to lighten the mood.

as the boat finally pushed off, its sails catching the gentle breeze, y/n and felix stood at the water’s edge, watching it grow smaller in the distance.

“you okay?” felix asked after a moment, his deep voice breaking the silence.

y/n nodded, though her chest felt tight. “yeah. i just.. i hope they find what they’re looking for.”

“they will,” felix said confidently. “and until then, we’ve got this place to take care of.”

y/n turned to look at him, her wings fluttering briefly into view before disappearing again. “you’re right. dewmist woods is still our home.”

and so, as the boat disappeared beyond the horizon, y/n and felix turned back toward the vibrant, magical forest. they were the last guardians of dewmist woods, and no matter what came their way, they would protect it.

the forest hummed with life, but y/n couldn’t shake the ache of loneliness in her chest. it had been days since the others had left, and though felix was nearby, she still felt the absence of their vibrant presence—chris’s booming laugh, minho’s sarcastic quips, rina’s soft encouragement, and yaena’s calm reassurances. the hut, usually filled with warmth and chatter, now felt quiet and hollow.

after pacing around the home for what felt like the hundredth time, she decided she couldn’t stay cooped up any longer. she slipped out, leaving the hut behind.

bare feet kissed the earth as she stepped into the sun-dappled clearing, her delicate wings unfurling behind her. a cascade of soft yellow and white shimmered in the light, their glow akin to moonbeams caught in the gossamer threads of a spider’s web. her wings were as ethereal as a dream, a living tapestry of light and silk, yet they carried the ghost of an old wound—a wound from a time too distant to remember fully but too near and painful to ever forget.

a long, jagged tear marred the right wing’s perfect symmetry, a place where once, sharp brambles had cut too deep, too unforgiving. even now, the slightest brush of wind or a careless twig sent tendrils of pain radiating through her, a reminder of her fragility. her wings, though lovely, were a burden as much as a gift.

her fingers trembled as they hovered over the scarred place. she felt the familiar sting of weakness simmering beneath her skin. she could fly—but the price was always too high. every lift of her body into the air drained her strength, left her breathless and trembling until her feet longed for the solidity of the earth once more.

and so, she avoided the skies.

with a deep breath, she let her wings droop gently, their glow dimming like a waning candle. the ache in her heart remained, but she pressed onward. the soft grass curled around her toes as she wandered further into the woods. each step was slow, deliberate, but there was a kind of power in that slowness, a quiet strength in choosing to walk when the world expected her to soar.

so yes, she was a faerie—but one who trusted the ground beneath her feet more than the sky that whispered promises her fragile wings could not keep.

— ༊ ࿐

the walk to the shore was peaceful, the sun filtering gently through the canopy above, painting the mossy ground with golden light. she stopped to talk to a cluster of butterflies, their wings shimmering with iridescent hues, their tiny, fluttering voices soothing in her mind. a few pixies, no taller than her hand, flitted by, laughing as they danced in spirals around her.

when she reached the shoreline, the world opened up. the sea stretched endlessly before her, glittering like liquid sapphire. the waves lapped gently against the sand, the soft breeze carrying with it the salty tang of the ocean. y/n sat down near the water, her wings catching the sunlight and casting a warm, ethereal glow around her. she drew idle shapes in the sand, humming softly to herself.

but then, something unusual caught her eye.

at the far edge of the shore, where the coastline curved sharply and jagged rocks jutted out into the water, there was something out of place—a wreckage. a small, broken boat lay partially submerged, its hull splintered and leaning against the rocks. the wood was dark, soaked with seawater, and the sails hung in torn shreds.

y/n froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. the sight was foreign to her; her mind raced with questions. what could it be? who could it belong to?

slowly, curiosity overtook her hesitance.

she rose to her feet, brushing the sand off her dress, and made her way toward the wreck. her wings shimmered faintly as they fluttered behind her, reflecting her rising nerves.

when she reached the boat, she noticed the strange objects scattered around it. bits of metal tools, a shattered lantern, and a few soaked, crumbling scrolls were strewn across the sand. everything seemed alien, unfamiliar—nothing like the natural world she’d always known.

and then she saw him.

lying on the sand, just beyond the wreckage, was a figure. a human..?

y/n’s breath caught in her throat, and her wings instinctively folded tighter against her back. she had never seen a human before. the stories, paintings, and faded memories left on the island described them as strange, otherworldly beings. her friends had always debated what humans might be like—dangerous, kind, curious—but none of them had ever expected to see one.

her wide eyes scanned him cautiously. he was motionless, his body partially turned on its side, one arm sprawled out in the sand. he was tall, much taller than she’d imagined humans might be, and his frame seemed strong, even though his posture was limp with unconsciousness.

for a moment, she hesitated. should she approach him? what if he woke up and harmed her? but then her gaze shifted to the dark stain of blood seeping through the sleeve of his shirt and the jagged wound on his thigh. her heart pained.

steeling herself, she stepped closer, her bare feet sinking into the cool sand. she crouched down beside him, her dress fanning out around her. his face was obscured by long, damp strands of black hair, clinging to his skin from seawater.

she reached out hesitantly, her hand trembling as she brushed the hair away from his face.

and then she saw him.

his face was… unlike anything she had ever imagined. his features were sharp and elegant, almost unreal in their beauty. his skin was pale, almost translucent in the sunlight, with a soft sheen from the water. his jawline was defined, his lips pink and full, parted slightly as he breathed shallowly.

but it was the small details that captivated her most. a single mole rested beneath one of his closed eyes, adding an endearing softness to his otherwise striking face. his long lashes lay against his cheeks, dark and feathery, as though they held secrets of faraway lands. he wore a loose white shirt that clung to his chest, now torn in places, the sleeves folded halfway, right above the elbow, and black ragged pants that had seen better days. the fabric was unlike anything on the island, both strange and fascinating.

y/n’s heart raced as she took in his appearance. she had never seen a face other than her own reflection in the crystalline water, or her friends’ familiar features. although there were plenty of similarities, this was entirely new—entirely human. his curved ears, unlike hers that were edged and pointy at the top, his body slightly larger than hers, and hair midnight.

she reached out again, her fingers hovering near the mole under his eye, but she drew back before touching him.

he was hurt. the blood on his arm and thigh stained the sand beneath him, the red a stark contrast to the pale gold of the beach. the wound above his elbow looked deep, the torn fabric of his shirt revealing raw, jagged skin.

y/n’s instincts kicked in. as a faerie whose ability was healing even the deepest wounds, you could say that she could never try to hurt a singular ant, let alone, a bigger.. being. the sight of blood and pain made her heart wrench with emotion, tears pooling her eyes.

she glanced around the shore, her mind racing for a solution. but the wreckage held no answers, only more questions. how had he ended up here? where had he come from?

for a moment, she faltered. what if she wasn’t ready to face this? she was the youngest, the least experienced. the others would have known what to do.

but as she looked back at his peaceful, unconscious face, her resolve hardened.

“i can’t just leave you here,” she murmured softly, her voice barely audible over the waves. her wings flickered faintly, as if agreeing with her decision.

she placed a hand gently on his shoulder, her fingers brushing the wet fabric of his shirt. “i’ll help you. somehow.”

and with that, she made her choice.

the rhythmic crashing of the waves faded into the background as the faerie focused on the unconscious human before her. her hands hovered hesitantly over the wound on his arm, her breath unsteady. the dark red gash seemed deep, the skin torn and swollen. blood had soaked through his torn sleeve and pooled on the sand beneath him.

she glanced at his face again, his sharp features softened by unconsciousness. despite his unfamiliarity, her heart ached to see anyone in such a state. he must’ve been through something terrible, she thought.

taking a deep breath, y/n closed her eyes. her wings began to glow faintly, an ethereal yellow-white light that grew brighter with every passing moment. she moved her hands closer to the wound, and as she did, a soft golden light spread from her palms. her wings radiated energy, filling the air around her with warmth and calm.

the wound on his arm began to close, the torn skin knitting itself together under the glow of her touch. she moved her hands to his thigh, repeating the process. her aura shimmered brighter now, wrapping both of them in a cocoon of light. even the faint scratches on his face faded under her care, leaving only smooth, pale skin behind.

her energy pulsed gently as the last of his injuries disappeared. the light dimmed, her wings flickering faintly before the glow receded entirely. y/n exhaled, her hands trembling slightly from the effort. he was still unconscious, but his breathing was steady, no longer labored or shallow.

“i-i did it,” she whispered, relief washing over her. “you're not hurting now.”

but now came the next challenge: she couldn’t leave him exposed here on the shore. the sea breeze was cool, and the open beach left him vulnerable. she couldn’t risk felix finding him either; she knew her protective friend would forbid her from getting involved.

y/n crouched beside him, her small hands hooking under his shoulders as she tried to drag him toward the trees. despite his lean frame, he was heavier than she expected, his boots dragging lines in the sand as she pulled with all her strength.

“why are humans so big?” she grumbled under her breath, her voice light but strained.

finally, she managed to get him under the shade of a large tree near the edge of the forest. the area was secluded enough to hide him from prying eyes but close enough to the beach that she could keep watch. she laid him down carefully, brushing sand off his clothes as she straightened his arm.

“stay here,” she murmured softly, glancing at his still face. she bit her lip, debating for a moment before turning and heading back to the heart of the forest, to their hut.

... minutes later.

the walk back was nerve-wracking. every rustle of leaves made her jump, every shift of the forest’s shadows made her glance over her shoulder.

what am i even doing? she wondered, her fingers clutching the edges of her glowing dress. felix would never approve if he knew.

thankfully, the hut was empty when she returned. she quickly gathered a basket of fruits, her hands trembling as she selected the ripest ones. mango-like pulms, plump red sunberries, and a handful of yellow starfruits were arranged neatly. she added a flask of fresh water and some bread they’d made the day before.

by the time she returned to the tree, the human was still unconscious, his chest rising and falling steadily. she set the basket down beside him and crouched behind a nearby bush, her wings tucked tightly against her back as she waited.

she didn’t have to wait long.

a soft groan broke the stillness, followed by a faint rustle as the human shifted. y/n’s heart leapt, her hands clutching the hem of her dress as she peeked out from her hiding spot. his hand moved first, his long fingers curling slightly before his eyes fluttered open.

dark, almond-shaped eyes scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, confusion clouding his expression. he sat up slowly, his brows furrowed as he looked down at his arm—and froze.

the blood was gone. the wound was gone.

he lifted his sleeve, examining the now-smooth skin with wide eyes. his hands moved to his thigh, finding the same result.

“what…?” he muttered, his voice low and soft, tinged with disbelief. his gaze darted to the basket of food nearby, and then to the surrounding forest.

a sudden rustling noise drew his attention, and his sharp eyes snapped toward the source—y/n.

great job, self.

she gasped softly, realizing she’d been seen. his dark gaze locked onto her, his posture tense but not hostile. he didn’t seem frightened; if anything, he looked protective, his hands poised to defend himself.

but then his eyes widened slightly, his gaze dropping to the soft glow of her wings, which she hadn’t hidden in her nervousness.

“you…” he breathed, his voice a mixture of awe and confusion.

y/n’s heart raced. she scrambled back a step, her fingers brushing against the sand until they found a smooth stone. she snatched it up, holding it in front of her defensively.

“w-who are you?” she demanded, her voice trembling slightly but carrying a strength that surprised even her. her usual gentle tone sharpened into something firm, her wings flaring slightly behind her.

the human raised his hands in a placating gesture, his gaze never leaving hers. “i’m not here to hurt you,” he said, his voice calm but steady. “i… i don’t even know where i am.”

y/n narrowed her eyes, gripping the stone tighter. “that doesn’t answer my question.”

he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “i’m… a traveler. my ship—it crashed in a storm. i don’t know how i got here.”

y/n tilted her head, her curiosity beginning to outweigh her fear. “you’re human,” she said softly, more to herself than to him.

he blinked. “and you’re..” he replied, his gaze flickering to her glowing wings.

she spoke again, not wanting him to complete his sentence. “you shouldn’t be here. no one should be here,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered at the edges. her grip on the stone loosened slightly, though she didn’t lower it.

“i didn’t mean to,” the man replied. “i didn’t even know this place existed.”

y/n studied him for a long moment, her amber-brown eyes searching his face. he didn’t seem dangerous—just lost, confused, and maybe a little awestruck. but the stories she’d grown up with still lingered in the back of her mind, warning her to be cautious.

finally, she lowered the stone, though her wings remained flared, a faint glow surrounding her. “stay where you are,” she said firmly. “i’ll decide what to do with you.”

his lips twitched into the faintest smile. “you saved me, didn’t you?”

y/n’s cheeks flushed faintly, but she ignored his question, turning her back on him as she hid her trembling hands behind her.

what am i doing? she thought again, her heart pounding as she tried to keep her composure. y/n stepped back a little farther, gripping the smooth stone tightly in her hand as the human tried to shift into a more comfortable position. she studied him closely, every detail of his movements, unsure if he might suddenly become hostile. her wings glowed faintly behind her, an unintentional show of her nervousness.

"don't come close to me—" she said sharply, her voice firm despite the slight quiver in her tone.

he froze, lifting his hands again to show he meant no harm, once again. “i won't— i'm saying it again, i’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, his voice calm and reassuring.

her eyes darted to his hands and then back to his face. “you shouldn’t even be here. you don’t belong here.”

he tilted his head, his gaze flickering briefly to her glowing wings. “are you.. human?”

y/n blinked, startled by the question. “human?” she mumbled the word she'd known for long, but it still foreign on her tongue.

she looked at him more closely now, studying the odd cut of his clothes, the dark fabric layered with gold-threaded details. his boots were worn, his hair tousled and damp from the sea, yet he carried himself with an air of elegance. he was undeniably different—alien, unfamiliar.

“no,” she replied quietly. “i’ve never seen a.. human before.”

a faint smile tugged at his lips, though he quickly masked it. “well, now you have,” he said lightly.

she stiffened at his tone, her grip on the stone tightening. “don’t mock me.”

“i’m not mocking you,” he replied, his voice still soft. “i’m just… surprised. i didn’t expect to find anyone here.”

her eyes narrowed. “you shouldn’t have found us. this island—it’s forbidden. you need to leave as soon as you can.”

the man leaned back slightly, his gaze flickering around the shaded forest. “i would if i could, but i don’t think i’m in any shape to build a boat and sail off, do you?”

y/n bit her lip, unsure how to respond. she had to admit he had a point, but she didn’t like the idea of him staying here. her friends had always warned her about outsiders. they’d said humans were dangerous, unpredictable, and greedy.

“where am i?” he asked suddenly, his tone curious but calm.

“it’s none of your concern,” y/n said quickly, her voice defensive.

“it kinda is if i’m stranded here.”

she shook her head. “you don’t need to know. it won’t help you anyway.”

“talk about honesty.. alright, this will be hard.”

he studied her for a moment, his gaze steady but not intimidating. “are you a faerie?”

y/n froze, her wings flickering faintly. she didn’t know how he knew about faeries, but his question struck a nerve. her first instinct was to deny it, but the way he asked—gently, without any trace of malice—made her pause.

after a long moment, she gave a hesitant nod.

his expression softened, though he kept his features carefully neutral. he didn’t want to scare her away or reveal how much he already knew about her kind. growing up in the palace, he’d been taught about faeries, elves, and other mystical beings—legends passed down through generations. he’d always thought them to be myths, mere stories to entertain and educate. but now, seeing her standing before him, her glowing wings and angelic presence so very real, he couldn’t help but marvel.

“don’t stare,” y/n said, her voice snapping him out of his thoughts. she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look intimidating.

“i’m sorry,” he said quickly, though there was a faint amusement in his tone. “i just didn’t think i’d ever meet a faerie.”

“well, now you have. so eat,” she said, shoving the basket of fruit toward him.

he glanced at the basket, then back at her. “you brought this for me?”

she frowned, looking away. “i… figured you’d be hungry.”

“thank you,” he said sincerely, picking up a piece of fruit.

“don’t thank me,” she muttered, her cheeks flushing slightly. “i only brought it so you don’t cause trouble.”

the man bit into the fruit, the sweet juice bursting on his tongue. “trouble? i’m sitting here with a bruised ego and no boat. what kind of trouble could i possibly cause?”

“you’d be surprised,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

he smiled faintly, taking another bite of fruit. “what’s your name?”

“that’s none of your business,” she shot back, her tone defensive.

“fair enough,” he replied easily, leaning back against the tree. “i’m hyunjin, by the way.”

y/n didn’t respond, though her eyes flickered to his face. he was so strange, so unfamiliar, yet she couldn’t deny that he was… beautiful. his delicate features seemed carved by the gods themselves, and the mole beneath his eye only added to his charm.

“you’re staring,” hyunjin said, his voice teasing.

y/n snapped out of her thoughts, her cheeks burning. “i wasn’t staring!”

“you were,” he said, smiling softly.

“stop talking,” she muttered, flustered.

hyunjin chuckled, the sound low and warm. “you’re not very good at being intimidating, are you?”

“i am so!” she retorted, her wings flaring slightly in defiance.

“you’re more like an angry butterfly,” he said, his tone playful.

y/n glared at him, though she couldn’t entirely suppress the small smile tugging at her lips.

after a moment, her curiosity got the better of her. “you said you’re a traveler. where are you from?”

hyunjin hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “a kingdom far from here.”

“kingdom?”

“aestheria,” he said simply.

y/n’s eyes widened slightly. “aetheria? the kingdom of golden spires?”

he nodded, a small smile on his lips. “you’ve heard of it?”

“only in stories,” she said softly. “i didn’t think it was.. real.”

“it is,” hyunjin said, his tone gentle. “and i’m a prince.”

y/n’s jaw dropped, though she quickly shut it, trying to compose herself. “you’re a… prince?”

“yes.”

she crossed her arms, trying to appear unimpressed. “you don’t look like a prince.”

hyunjin laughed lightly. “what does a prince look like, then?”

“not like… that,” she said, gesturing vaguely at him.

“ouch, way to add to my already broken ego.. but anyway, i really am,” he said with a faint smile, watching her reaction with amusement.

y/n tried to appear unaffected, but her wide eyes betrayed her awe. she turned away, her wings folding neatly against her back as she muttered, “i don’t care if you’re a prince. you still don’t belong here.”

hyunjin smiled to himself, leaning back against the tree as he watched her with quiet fascination.

a soft, shimmering light caught y/n's attention as a tiny butterfly-like pixie fluttered toward her. its delicate wings shimmered with hues of lavender and gold, leaving a faint trail of glittering dust in the air. y/n froze, her heart racing. pixie butterflies only showed up when something urgent needed to be said.

“y/n!” the pixie squeaked in a high-pitched but anxious voice, hovering near her shoulder. her tiny frame quivered nervously as she glanced back toward the direction of the hut.

“what is it, lunis?” y/n asked, her voice low, her eyes darting briefly toward hyunjin, who was still leaning against the tree, his sharp gaze quietly observing the interaction.

lunis hesitated, wringing its tiny hands as it hovered closer to her ear. “who is this? who is this man?!” she whispered frantically, though her voice carried enough for hyunjin to catch the distress in her tone.

y/n stiffened. “lunis—please—don’t be loud!” she tried to wave the pixie off, hoping to calm her nervous flurry.

the pixie ignored her, her tiny eyes wide with panic. “you know how felix will react, y/n! he’ll—he’ll lose his wings if he finds out!”

y/n winced, her heart sinking at the mention of felix. she knew exactly what lunis meant. felix’s overprotectiveness was both his strength and his flaw. he’d do anything to keep the place safe, even if it meant being harsh.

“i know,” she whispered, her voice tight. “but i couldn’t just leave him. look at him!” she gestured at hyunjin, who raised his eyebrows but said nothing, his gaze flickering between y/n and the panicked pixie.

lunis turned to hyunjin, her tiny hands clutching her head dramatically. “a human?! a human! on dewmist woods? this is—this is—”

“calm down!” y/n snapped quietly, her wings flickering in agitation.

“i can’t calm down!” lunis hissed. “felix will see! he’ll know! he always knows!”

hyunjin, sensing the tension, decided to interject. “i’m not here to hurt anyone, little one,” he said softly, his deep voice carrying an almost soothing quality.

the pixie froze, her tiny wings fluttering erratically.

“it talks..” lunis whispered, her voice dripping with suspicion. “humans talk. humans lie!”

“lunis!” y/n scolded, turning to face the pixie fully. “he’s injured. i healed him. what was i supposed to do? let him bleed out on the shore?”

“so you did heal me.”

“you, stay quiet!”

“yes!” lunis shrieked, then immediately clapped her hands over her mouth, looking horrified at her own words. “no! i didn’t mean that, but—oh, y/n, you don’t understand! felix will scold you! he’ll never trust you again!”

y/n flinched at the thought, her heart heavy. she loved felix dearly—he was like an older brother to her—but she couldn’t ignore how overbearing he could be. he’d never let her out of his sight again if he found out about this.

“be quick, y/n!” lunis pleaded, tugging on her sleeve with her tiny hands. “get him away from here before felix sees! he’s out gathering wood, but he could come back any moment! please, please! go home before it’s too late!”

y/n’s mind raced. she glanced at hyunjin, who was now watching her with a strange mix of curiosity and concern. his dark eyes bore into hers, and for a moment, she felt a pang of guilt.

“i can’t just—” she started, but lunis interrupted her.

“you can,” the pixie insisted. “you must. or felix will—” she stopped mid-sentence, her tiny frame trembling.

“felix will what?” hyunjin asked suddenly, his voice calm but firm.

lunis let out a tiny squeak and darted behind y/n’s shoulder, clearly intimidated. “none of your business, human!”

“god forbid a man is curious.” hyunjin sighed, his gaze flickering to y/n. “you’re not very good at hiding things, are you?”

y/n shot him a glare, her cheeks flushing. “quiet,” she muttered.

lunis tugged on her sleeve again. “y/n, please! you’re my friend, and i don’t want felix to yell at you. he’s so scary when he’s upset!”

“i know,” y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. she felt torn, her heart aching under the weight of the pixie’s fear and her own guilt.

hyunjin leaned back against the tree, watching her with a thoughtful expression. “i take it this felix person isn’t very fond of strangers,”

y/n’s wings flickered again, betraying her nerves. “that’s putting it lightly,” she muttered.

“then perhaps i should leave,” hyunjin suggested, though his tone lacked conviction.

“bingo! so, the human thinks too-”

y/n hesitated, her gaze flickering between him and lunis. “you can’t leave!” she said finally. “not yet. you’re still weak- and you don’t have a boat.”

there was a faint smile tugging at his lips, as if he knew she wouldn’t let him go so easily.

lunis groaned, flitting in front of her face. “y/n, think about this! felix—”

“i’ll handle felix,” y/n said firmly, surprising both lunis and herself.

hyunjin’s eyebrows rose, and lunis blinked at her, her tiny mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“you… you’ll handle him?” lunis stammered. “y/n, you can’t even argue with a butterfly!”

y/n crossed her arms, her wings glowing faintly with determination. “i’ll figure it out! trust me!”

hyunjin watched her, a flicker of admiration in his dark eyes. “you’re braver than you look,” he said softly.

y/n shot him a look, her cheeks warming. “don’t push your luck, human.”

lunis groaned, throwing her tiny hands in the air. “fine! but don’t say i didn’t warn you! if felix catches you—oh, it’ll be awful! just awful!”

with one last worried glance at hyunjin, the pixie flitted away, her shimmering trail disappearing into the forest.

y/n let out a shaky breath, her wings drooping slightly. she turned to hyunjin, who was still leaning casually against the tree, his expression unreadable.

“you really do have a lot of secrets,” he said, his voice quiet but teasing.

“don’t get used to it,” she replied, her tone sharp. “you’re not staying forever.”

y/n watched lunis disappear into the forest, her stomach twisting with anxiety. she turned back to the human, who was still leaning casually against the tree, his dark eyes now focused on the soft glow of her wings.

he tilted his head, clearly curious but not prying.

“you’re making this very difficult,” she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms as she tried to figure out what to do next.

“i don’t think i’m the one sneaking around on my own island, trying to hide a human.”

y/n glared at him, though her wings gave a faint flicker of nervous energy. “you’re not helping.”

“i wasn’t aware i was supposed to,” he replied smoothly, his tone carrying just enough teasing to make her grit her teeth.

with a frustrated sigh, the faerie glanced toward the forest path leading back to their hut. felix could be back at any moment, and if lunis—or any of the other pixies—decided to snitch, things could spiral very quickly.

“alright,” she said firmly, snapping hyunjin out of his casual amusement. “you’re coming with me.”

he blinked, straightening up slightly. “i am?”

“yes,” she said, grabbing the leftover food and tucking it into a small woven pouch at her side. “you can’t stay out here. if felix sees you…” she trailed off, her wings giving an involuntary twitch at the thought.

he raised an eyebrow. “this felix must be quite terrifying.”

“considering you're a human, you can say that.”

“he’s not terrifying,” she replied quickly, though her voice wavered slightly. “he’s just… protective. and if he sees you, he’ll—” she paused, wringing her hands nervously. “you'll probably have a death wish.”

hyunjin’s lips twitched as though suppressing a laugh. “sounds like someone i’d love to meet.”

“you’re not meeting him!” she snapped, flustered. “now, come on. and be quiet.”

without giving him a chance to argue, she tugged at his arm. to her surprise, he followed her without complaint, his long strides making it easy to keep up.

“where are we going?” he asked, his voice low enough not to echo through the forest.

“somewhere felix won’t look,” she said simply, her eyes darting around nervously as they walked.

“do you even know where that is?”

“yes!” she said quickly, though her voice lacked conviction.

hyunjin chuckled softly, the sound warm and surprisingly comforting. “you’re terrible at lying.”

she shot him a glare over her shoulder. “quiet.”

eventually, they reached a small grove not far from the hut but hidden enough by thick vines and towering trees. y/n pushed aside some of the greenery, revealing a small hollow nestled against the roots of a massive tree.

“here,” she said, gesturing for him to duck inside.

hyunjin looked at the hollow, then back at her with a raised eyebrow. “you want me to hide in there?”

“did i ask you to argue?” she said, exasperated. “ it’s temporary, just until i figure out what to do.”

he sighed dramatically but crouched down, squeezing into the hollow. once inside, he leaned back against the tree roots, his legs stretched out awkwardly.

“comfortable?” she asked sarcastically.

“very,” he replied, though his tone was more amused than annoyed. “the best in town.”

y/n rolled her eyes and began to pull the vines back into place, ensuring the hollow was completely hidden. “stay here. don’t make a sound. and if you hear anything—”

“run?” he offered, his lips twitching into a smile.

“hide,” she corrected, giving him a stern look.

hyunjin chuckled again, resting his head against the tree roots. “yes, ma’am.”

y/n sighed, stepping back to inspect her handiwork. it wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. she turned to head back to the hut, but as soon as she stepped out of the grove, she froze.

felix was standing a few feet away, his silver hair glinting in the sunlight. he held a bundle of firewood in his arms, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as they locked onto her emerald ones.

“y/n,” he said slowly, his voice calm but laced with suspicion. “what are you doing out here?”

y/n’s heart skipped a beat, and she forced a smile onto her face. “oh, just… exploring!”

felix tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “exploring? near the grove we’ve told you a hundred times to stay away from?”

y/n faltered, her wings fluttering nervously. “it’s not that dangerous…”

felix stepped closer, his gaze narrowing. “what are you hiding?”

“hiding?” she repeated, her voice going an octave higher. “i’m not hiding anything!”

felix raised an eyebrow, his eyes scanning the area. “y/n.”

she opened her mouth to respond, but a sudden rustling from the grove behind her made her heart stop.

“what was that?” felix asked, his eyes snapping to the source of the sound.

“probably just a squirrel!” she said quickly, stepping in front of him to block his path.

felix’s gaze darkened. “move.”

“felix—”

“move, y/n,” he said firmly, his voice low but commanding.

before she could argue, another rustle came from the grove, followed by a soft, muffled curse. y/n’s stomach dropped as she recognized the voice.

felix’s eyes widened, and without another word, he pushed past her, shoving the vines aside to reveal hyunjin crouched awkwardly in the hollow.

for a moment, there was silence. felix stared at hyunjin, his expression unreadable, while hyunjin blinked up at him, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“well,” hyunjin said casually, leaning back against the tree roots. “this is awkward.”

y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. “oh no…”

felix slowly turned to look at her, his expression a mix of disbelief and fury. “y/n.”

“felix, i can explain—”

“explain?” he repeated, his voice rising. “you’ve been hiding a human?!”

“it’s not what it looks like!” she said desperately.

felix gestured wildly at hyunjin. “it looks like there’s a human sitting in our grove!”

hyunjin raised a hand in a mock wave. “pleased to meet you too.”

felix ignored him, his focus entirely on y/n. “do you have any idea how dangerous this is? what were you thinking?”

“i was thinking i couldn’t let him die!” she shot back, her wings flaring slightly.

felix opened his mouth to argue, but hyunjin interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “if it helps, i don’t plan on hurting anyone.”

felix turned to glare at him. “you’re not helping.”

hyunjin shrugged. “didn’t think i was.”

“you just said you were.”

“details.”

y/n groaned again, pulling at her hair.

hyunjin glanced at y/n, who looked like she wanted to sink into the ground. “looks like i’m staying,” he said with a small smile.

felix stood between y/n and hyunjin, his shoulders squared, his blue eyes ice-cold as they bore into hyunjin's. his usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced with sharp intensity, his protective instincts flaring like a storm.

“inside,” felix said, his voice low but unyielding as he gestured toward the hut.

y/n hesitated, her wings fluttering nervously behind her. “but—”

“now,” felix interrupted, his tone firm and final.

y/n frowned, her voice rising slightly. “felix, we can just sort this out tog—”

he turned to her sharply, his frustration evident. “y/n, he could be a monster for all we know!”

that was the breaking point. her wings flared, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “i’m sick of you trying to protect me as if i’m some fragile kid! i know how to protect myself!”

felix’s jaw tightened, but his expression didn’t soften. instead, his voice grew quieter, steadier, but still firm. “this isn’t up for debate. go inside.”

y/n’s lips pressed into a thin line, her fists clenching at her sides as she glared at him. for a moment, it looked like she might argue again, but she sighed heavily instead. her wings drooped slightly as she turned away, her voice quieter but still laced with frustration. “you're being unreasonable.”

without looking back, she made her way to the hut, her footsteps heavier than usual. the door shut behind her with a soft thud, leaving an uncomfortable silence between felix and hyunjin.

hyunjin, still seated near the hollow, raised an eyebrow as he observed felix. “that was… intense,” he said, his tone light but not mocking.

felix didn’t respond immediately. he crossed his arms, his posture rigid as he looked down at the stranger. “who are you?” he asked, his voice cold and unyielding.

“i told her already,” hyunjin replied evenly, though there was a flicker of tension in his voice. “my name is hyunjin. i’m—”

“i didn’t ask for your name,” felix interrupted, stepping closer as he pulled out a dagger from his satchel. “i asked who you are. what are you doing here? where did you come from?”

hyunjin’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his composure. “i was shipwrecked. that’s all.”

felix narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping lower. “and yet you just so happened to wash up on our island? a place no human has ever stepped foot on before?”

hyunjin met his gaze, his dark eyes steady. “it wasn’t intentional, i assure you. my ship was caught in a storm. i didn’t even know this place existed.”

felix tilted his head slightly, studying him with an almost predatory sharpness. “convenient, isn’t it? that you just happened to end up here, on an island full of creatures you filthy humans only tell stories about?”

hyunjin’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “you seem to think i had a choice in the matter.”

felix took another step closer, his voice sharp. “i don’t trust you. we don't trust you. and if you so much as look at y/n the wrong way—”

“i won’t harm any of you,” hyunjin interrupted, his tone firm but calm. “i swear it.”

felix’s eyes narrowed further. “words mean nothing. especially from a human.”

hyunjin sighed softly, running a hand through his hair. “you’re protective of the island. i understand that. but i have no intention of hurting her or anyone else here. i’m just trying to survive.”

felix didn’t respond immediately, his sharp gaze lingering on hyunjin as though he could see through him. the tension between them was thick, the air charged with unspoken threats.

finally, felix stepped back slightly, though his posture remained tense. “if you’re lying—if you’re here for anything other than survival—i will find out. and you won’t like what happens next.”

hyunjin nodded once, his expression serious. “understood.”

felix’s gaze lingered on him for another moment before he turned toward the hut. “stay here,” he ordered. “don’t move until i say so.”

as felix walked away, hyunjin let out a slow breath, leaning back against the tree roots. he glanced toward the hut, where he could faintly see y/n’s silhouette through the window.

the evening sun painted the sky with shades of amber and pink, its warm glow spilling through the trees and casting dappled light onto the forest floor.

y/n approached hyunjin cautiously, her small frame barely making a sound as she stepped over roots and leaves. her hands clutched a wooden tray of food she’d carefully prepared—fruits, nuts, and a bowl of fresh water gathered from the spring. her wings, brighter now in the fading light, folded neatly behind her, their tips brushing the sides of her flowing dress.

hyunjin sat by the same tree, his legs stretched out and his arms resting on his knees. he looked up as she approached, his dark eyes catching the golden light. a faint smile curved his lips, the kind that felt like a secret shared only between the two of them, though she wasn’t in the mood to reciprocate.

“you again,” he said lightly, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the tense energy she brought with her. “i thought your guard dog would’ve chained you to the hut by now.”

“don’t,” she cut him off sharply, her voice firmer than he’d ever heard it before. she stopped a few paces away, her fingers tightening around the tray. “i didn’t come here to exchange jokes.”

his smile faded slightly, replaced by an expression of mild surprise. he sat up straighter, sensing the shift in her demeanor. “alright,” he said carefully, leaning back against the tree. “what d-”

“you need to leave, hyunjin.”

the words hung in the air, heavier than the twilight. hyunjin’s eyebrows lifted, and he tilted his head slightly, studying her. “so you agree now?”

“yes,” she said, stepping closer and setting the tray down on the ground between them. she straightened, her arms crossing over her chest as she stared down at him. “felix is right. lunis is right. you shouldn’t be here. you don’t belong here.”

he raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing despite the weight of her words. “harsh. you’re not exactly rolling out the welcome mat, are you?”

she didn’t respond to his humor, her face remaining serious. “this island is not meant for humans like you. it’s dangerous—for you and for us.”

“dangerous?” he echoed, his voice softening slightly. “i don’t see anything dangerous about you, though.” his gaze flicked to her wings, his expression unreadable.

her wings twitched slightly, a reflex she couldn’t suppress, but her face didn’t falter. “that’s exactly the problem,” she said quietly. “you don’t understand. you don’t know what you’ve stumbled into.”

hyunjin leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked up at her. “then explain it to me. help me understand.”

“no,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “it’s not for you to know! it’s not for you to be here. you need to leave.”

he let out a soft sigh, leaning back again. “i need to.. but how do you expect me to leave? swim?”

“i don’t care how you leave,” she said, her voice harder now, though there was a tremble beneath it that betrayed her emotions. “you just… you can’t stay. we don’t know you. we don’t know what you’ll bring here.”

hyunjin was silent for a moment, his eyes searching her face. when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “you’re scared of me.”

her jaw tightened, and she looked away, her wings fluttering slightly behind her. “i’m not scared of you,” she said, though the words sounded more like a defense than a truth.

“you are,” he said softly. “not for yourself, maybe. but for the others. for the island.”

her gaze snapped back to him, her eyes narrowing. “don’t pretend like you know me. you don’t know anything about me or why i’m asking you to leave.”

he raised his hands slightly in mock surrender. “alright, fair enough. i don’t know you. but i do know one thing—you healed me.”

her breath hitched slightly, and she looked away again. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“yes, you do,” he said, his tone still gentle. “i woke up, and the wounds were gone. that wasn’t an accident. that was you.”

“you quite almost admitted it to your little.. pixie back at the shore, you know.”

her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and her wings twitched again, a faint glow pulsing through them despite the dim light. “you’re hearing things,” she said, her voice quieter now.

he didn’t push her further, sensing the walls she’d built around herself. instead, he leaned back again, his head resting against the tree trunk as he let out a soft sigh. “alright, i’ll leave. but let me ask you something first.”

she looked at him warily, her wings settling behind her. “what?”

“if you were so certain i shouldn’t be here,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, “why did you save me?”

the question hit her like a gust of wind, stealing the breath from her lungs. she opened her mouth to respond but found no words, her voice lost somewhere in the turmoil of her thoughts.

“i…” she began, but the sound of felix’s voice calling her name from the hut cut through the air like a blade.

her wings snapped shut against her back, and she took a step away from hyunjin. “i have to go,” she said quickly, her voice unsteady.

“of course,” he said softly, watching as she turned and hurried back toward the hut, her wings shimmering faintly in the fading light.

as she disappeared into the trees, hyunjin leaned his head back against the trunk, a faint, bittersweet smile playing on his lips. “you're scared,” he murmured to himself, “but not of me.”

and that's how their story began.

the soft babble of the stream echoed through the forest as y/n crouched by the water’s edge, her wings glimmering faintly under the dappled sunlight. she was humming a soft tune, her hands carefully filling a large, carved wooden bowl with the crystal-clear water. hyunjin approached quietly from behind, his presence as calm as the gentle breeze.

“you hum a lot,” hyunjin said, crouching beside her. his voice was low but playful, laced with the kind of teasing she’d grown used to over the past two months.

y/n glanced at him, her brown eyes sparkling. “and you sulk a lot.”

hyunjin chuckled, dipping his hands into the stream to feel the coolness of the water. “i don’t sulk.”

“oh, you do,” she replied, lifting the bowl and standing up. she turned to him, her wings fluttering slightly. “you sulk when felix doesn’t trust you, you sulk when i win an argument, and you definitely sulk when you get caught staring.”

he froze mid-motion, his dark eyes widening slightly before narrowing into an embarrassed glare. “i do not—”

“do too,” she cut him off, sticking her tongue out playfully before turning to walk back toward the hut.

hyunjin stood there for a moment, watching her retreating figure, her light brown hair catching the sun and her wings shimmering like they were spun from golden silk. he let out a soft, defeated laugh before following her.

the hut was filled with the earthy scent of freshly picked mushrooms and herbs. y/n stood at the small wooden counter, chopping the ingredients with quick, precise movements. hyunjin leaned against the wall nearby, watching her with an amused expression.

“are you going to help, or are you just going to stand there and look pretty?” y/n asked without looking up, her voice sweet but teasing.

“you think i'm pretty?”

“everyone's pretty.”

“fine then, i’m more useful looking pretty,” hyunjin quipped, crossing his arms. “besides, last time i tried to help, felix nearly threw me out for ruining the stew.”

y/n giggled, her wings twitching slightly as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “you can’t ruin this one. it’s just mushroom soup. even you can’t mess that up.”

he pushed off the wall and came to stand beside her, his shoulder brushing hers lightly. “fine. tell me what to do, boss.”

“start with these,” she said, handing him a bundle of herbs. “tear the leaves off gently. don’t crush them.”

hyunjin took the herbs and began working, his fingers surprisingly deft. for a moment, they worked in comfortable silence, the sound of chopping and the crackle of the fire filling the room.

“you’re getting better at this,” y/n admitted, glancing at him.

he smirked, meeting her gaze. “careful, y/n. if you keep complimenting me, i might start thinking you like having me around.”

“don’t push your luck, prince.”

the night was calm, the sky above them a tapestry of stars. y/n and hyunjin sat on a log near the edge of the forest, the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore in the distance.

y/n hugged her knees to her chest, her wings tucked neatly behind her. “do you miss it?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“miss what?” hyunjin asked, leaning back on his hands as he looked up at the stars.

“the kingdom. your home.”

he was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the heavens. “sometimes,” he admitted. “but it’s not like the stories, y/n. it’s not all grand halls and royal banquets. there’s… a lot of pressure. expectations.”

she looked at him, her eyes filled with curiosity. “but you were a prince. isn’t that… amazing?”

hyunjin turned to her, his expression soft but serious. “it sounds amazing until you realize you don’t get to choose your own life. you don’t get to be free.” he paused, his gaze dropping to her wings. “here, it’s different. you’re free.”

she blinked, taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice. “but we’re not free either. we’re trapped on this island, waiting for something we’re not even sure exists anymore.”

hyunjin reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. “you don’t seem trapped to me,” he said softly.

her cheeks flushed, and she quickly pulled her hand back, breaking the moment. “you’re impossible,” she muttered, standing up.

“and you’re adorable,” he called after her, earning a glare that was more flustered than angry.

the three of them sat around the fire in the hut, felix sharpening a knife while hyunjin and y/n bickered about something trivial.

“i’m just saying,” hyunjin argued, leaning forward, “if i were in charge of gathering berries, we wouldn’t have run out last week.”

“that’s because you’d eat them all before we even got home,” y/n shot back, her wings twitching in irritation.

felix snorted, surprising both of them. they turned to look at him, and he shrugged, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “she’s got a point, hyunjin.”

hyunjin gasped in mock betrayal. “et tu, felix?”

“don’t push your luck,” felix said, though his tone was lighter than usual. he glanced at y/n, his expression softening. “you two are loud enough to scare away every creature in the forest.”

“as if we're not all friends with them.” y/n stuck her tongue out at him, but the warmth in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. despite his cautious nature, felix had grown used to hyunjin’s presence, even if he didn’t fully trust him yet.

“hold still,” hyunjin said, stepping closer.

she froze as he reached up, his fingers gently pulling a vine free from her tangled brown hair. his touch was careful, almost reverent, and when he looked down at her, their faces were inches apart.

her breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath with her. his dark eyes searched hers, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a faint smile.

“you have the worst luck with plants,” he murmured.

“and you have the worst timing,” she shot back, though her voice was soft.

his smile widened, but he didn’t move away.

“y/n! hyunjin!” felix’s voice called from inside the hut, breaking the moment.

she stepped back quickly, her cheeks flushing as she turned toward the door. “we’re coming!” she called, her voice higher than usual.

hyunjin watched her retreat, a small, bittersweet smile playing on his lips. “saved by the guard dog,” he muttered under his breath, following her inside.

the day began like any other. the sun rose over the island, golden light cascading through the trees, and the morning was filled with the soft hum of the forest’s life. y/n fluttered about the hut as usual, her wings shimmering faintly in the light, while hyunjin watched her with his usual soft amusement. felix was out gathering supplies, leaving the two alone.

by midday, y/n had gone quiet. she drifted to the shore after lunch, her head low, her shoulders slumped. hyunjin watched her go but didn’t follow right away. she often needed time to herself, especially when the weight of their missing friends grew heavy in her heart.

she sat near the edge of the water, her wings folded tightly against her back as she drew aimless patterns in the sand with her finger. the gentle waves lapped at the shore, and the sound, usually comforting, only reminded her of the emptiness she felt. the pixie butterflies, always fluttering nearby, hovered uncertainly.

“y/n,” one of them chirped, its tiny voice tinged with concern. “you shouldn’t be sad. they’ll come back. they always come back.”

she gave the butterfly a small, weary smile. “i hope so,” she murmured. “but it’s been so long. what if something happened to them? what if they can’t find their way back?”

another pixie, its glow faint in the daylight, landed on her knee. “you’re not alone,” it said, its voice soft. “you have us. you have felix. and… you have him.”

y/n blinked, her gaze lifting toward the trees. she could see a figure approaching, and her heart sank slightly. she didn’t want him to see her like this.

but it was too late. hyunjin was already there.

“hey,” hyunjin called softly, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves.

she quickly wiped at her eyes, pretending she hadn’t been crying. “what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to sound annoyed, but her voice cracked, betraying her.

“looking for you,” hyunjin sat beside her, his dark eyes scanning her face. he frowned. “you’ve been crying.”

“no, i haven’t,” she lied, turning away.

“y/n,” he said again, his voice gentle but firm. he reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm. “talk to me.”

for a moment, she didn’t respond. the silence stretched between them, filled only by the rhythm of the waves. finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“i miss them,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “felix acts like everything’s fine, but what if it’s not? what if they’re hurt? or… or worse?”

hyunjin’s chest tightened at the sight of her distress. he’d seen her cheerful, teasing, radiant. this version of her—fragile and vulnerable—pulled at something deep inside him.

“they’ll come back,” he said softly. “they wouldn’t leave you behind. not forever.”

she shook her head, her wings trembling slightly. “you don’t know that. you don’t know them.”

“no, i don’t,” he admitted. “but i know you. and i know your love for them. and that you’re strong enough to wait for them. strong enough to hope.”

her lip trembled, and she looked away, but he wasn’t going to let her retreat.

he shifted closer, sitting beside her in the sand. he didn’t speak right away, giving her the space to gather her thoughts. slowly, hesitantly, she leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

he froze for a moment, startled by the sudden closeness, but then his body relaxed. his arm came up around her shoulders, holding her gently.

“i don’t want to be strong all the time,” she confessed, her voice muffled against him.

“you don’t have to be,” he said quietly. “not with me.”

the pixie butterflies fluttered around them, their tiny voices whispering reassurances, but neither y/n nor hyunjin paid them any mind.

“you’re better at this than i thought,” she muttered after a moment, her voice tinged with the faintest hint of her usual teasing.

hyunjin chuckled softly. “at what?”

“at… comforting,” she said, her wings twitching slightly.

“i’m a quick learner,” he replied, his tone warm.

the sun had soon began to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange. the golden light bathed them, and y/n finally pulled away, just enough to look up at him. her eyes searched his face, taking in the softness of his expression, the way the light danced in his dark eyes.

“why are you always here when i need you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“maybe because i need you too,” he said simply.

her breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them moved. the world seemed to hold its breath with them, the only sound the gentle crash of the waves.

hyunjin’s hand came up, hesitating for a moment before brushing a strand of hair from her face. his fingers lingered, and his gaze dropped to her lips.

“y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and full of emotion.

she didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. and that was all the invitation he needed. slowly, carefully, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was soft and hesitant but full of unspoken feelings.

his breath was warm, tasting faintly of honey and wild berries as it mingled with hers, soft and trembling against the curve of her mouth. the kiss was delicate at first, like a whispered secret, but it deepened with the gravity of unspoken longing — slow, careful, reverent. his hand rose instinctively to cradle her face, the pad of his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek as if to memorize the contours of her fragility.

her wings quivered behind her, the faint luminescence pulsing in rhythm with her heart, each beat a spark of life tethered to his touch. as the kiss unfolded, her fingers knotted into the coarse fabric of his tunic, grasping as if he might vanish like a dream. a small sigh escaped her lips as his kiss became more certain, a tender pressure that spoke of yearning held back for too long.

there, between them, time stretched and blurred. every fleeting caress of his lips on hers sent a warmth spiraling through her chest, a fire that burned but did not consume. when they finally drew apart, breathless and trembling, their foreheads touched, the world around them silent but for the echo of their shared heartbeat. neither dared speak, afraid that words might shatter the fragile, aching beauty of the moment.

“thank you,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed.

“for what?” he asked, his voice equally soft.

“for being here.”

he smiled, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “always.”

and as the first stars began to appear in the night sky, they stayed there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the rest of the world forgotten.

the sun was low in the sky, its warm hues bleeding into the deep green of the woods and the soft blues of the shore. y/n and hyunjin walked side by side, the sand beneath their feet cool as the tide ebbed and flowed. felix had stayed behind at the hut, muttering something about needing to sort the herbs and supplies, though they both knew he was giving them space.

hyunjin held a woven basket filled with fruits they’d picked from the trees near the shore. it wasn’t heavy, but he made a show of carrying it with exaggerated effort.

“oh no,” he groaned dramatically, his knees bending as if he might collapse under the imaginary weight. “it’s just… so heavy. i’m not sure i’ll make it.”

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “you’re insufferable,” she said, plucking a bright blue fruit from the basket and taking a bite. its juice stained her lips, the taste sweet and tangy.

“i’m the one carrying the basket, y/n,” he shot back, smirking. “the least you could do is thank me.”

“thank you, oh mighty prince,” she replied, her voice dripping with mock reverence. “how ever would i survive without your unparalleled strength?”

he laughed, the sound light and genuine, and y/n felt her heart flutter. she looked away quickly, pretending to focus on a tiny cluster of pixie butterflies that flitted nearby.

as the day stretched into the golden hues of the late afternoon, they moved into the woods. the canopy above was thick, filtering the sunlight into soft beams that danced across the ground. hyunjin reached up to pluck a low-hanging flower with petals that shimmered faintly, handing it to y/n with a flourish.

“for you,” he said with a grin, holding it out dramatically as if offering her the most precious treasure.

y/n accepted it with a small laugh, tucking it into her hair. “do you do this for all the ladies you meet?”

“just the prettiest ones,” he said, winking, and she smacked his arm lightly.

they walked further, hyunjin listening intently as y/n pointed out different plants and their uses. he was fascinated by how much she knew about the forest, about the life that thrived here.

“you know,” he said, leaning against a tree, “i used to think the stories about faeries and magical islands were just that—stories. something to entertain bored princesses.”

“and now?” she asked, tilting her head to look at him.

“now i think the stories didn’t do you justice,” he said softly, and her cheeks flushed.

by the time night fell, they were lying on a patch of soft grass beneath the open sky. the stars were brilliant, their light scattered like diamonds across the dark canvas. fireflies danced in the air, their glow adding a soft warmth to the cool night.

y/n lay on her back, her wings spread out behind her like a shimmering halo. hyunjin lay beside her, his head propped on one arm as he watched her.

“you know,” he said after a moment, “i think i could stay here forever.”

she turned her head to look at him, her brows furrowing slightly. “you say that now,” she said. “but what about your kingdom? your life there?”

he shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “what about it? it doesn’t feel like my life anymore.”

y/n was silent for a moment, her gaze drifting back to the stars. “you don’t miss it?”

“there are things i miss,” he admitted. “my mother, for one. but most of it? no. i was born into a life that was decided for me. here, with you and felix… it feels like i’m finally making my own choices.”

y/n smiled softly at that, her heart warming. “i’m glad you feel that way.”

he shifted closer, his arm brushing against hers. “what about you?” he asked. “do you ever wish for something more than this island?”

she thought about it, her eyes fixed on the sky. “sometimes,” she said honestly. “but then i think about how much i love this place. the forest, the creatures, felix, our friends… it’s my home.”

“it’s a beautiful home,” hyunjin said softly.

they talked for hours, their voices soft and steady as the night deepened around them. hyunjin told her stories of his childhood, of the palace gardens and the books he’d read. y/n shared tales of the forest, of her first flight, and the mischief she’d gotten into with felix.

at some point, y/n’s eyelids began to droop, her words becoming slower and softer. hyunjin noticed and smiled, his heart swelling at the sight of her peaceful expression.

“sleep, y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle.

“i’m fine,” she mumbled, but her wings gave a small, sleepy flutter.

he shook his head, chuckling softly. “come here,” he said, reaching out to pull her closer.

she didn’t resist, letting him wrap an arm around her and pull her against his chest. his other hand rested lightly on the edge of her wings, careful not to disturb them.

“you’re warm,” she muttered, her voice muffled against him.

“good,” he said, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. “now sleep.”

her breathing slowed, and soon she was asleep, her body relaxed against his. hyunjin stayed awake a little longer, his eyes fixed on the stars above. he didn’t know what the future held, but in that moment, with y/n in his arms and the forest around them, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

the forest was deathly quiet under the pale silver of the moon. the fireflies were gone, the night was still, and the warm hum of life that usually enveloped the woods felt like a distant memory. y/n stirred, her face pressing against the grass as her eyes fluttered open.

a searing, unbearable pain jolted through her entire body. it was a sharp, raw agony that made her gasp, her hands scrambling to her back. her heart stopped when her fingers brushed against the sticky wetness of her blood, now pooling and staining the grass.

she tried to sit up but collapsed back with a cry. her breathing was shallow and frantic as her mind tried to make sense of what was happening. her wings—her beautiful, radiant wings—were gone. all she could feel was the torn flesh of her back, blood trickling down in rivulets.

her trembling gaze darted around the clearing, searching, desperate. feathers. blood. emptiness. the pain was unbearable, but the hollow ache in her heart felt worse.

“w-where…” she rasped, choking on the words. tears blurred her vision as her fingers clawed at the ground, pulling herself forward.

and then she saw him.

in the distance, just beyond the trees, hyunjin stood. his figure was shadowed under the moonlight, but she could make out the shape of her wings in his trembling hands. they drooped lifelessly, their glow gone, coated in her blood.

her breath hitched. a wave of disbelief and nausea overtook her as her eyes trailed to the dagger in his hand, its blade glinting with crimson.

“hyunjin…” her voice broke, barely above a whisper.

he flinched at the sound of her voice, his whole body stiffening. slowly, his head turned toward her, his face pale and twisted with torment.

“hyunjin!” her voice was louder now, raw and filled with anguish. she clawed at the grass, dragging her weakened body toward him. “w-what… what did you…?”

he didn’t move. his grip on her wings was trembling, his eyes wide with tears. “y/n,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “i—”

“you… you c-cut them?” she stammered, her lips quivering as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. her body was shaking violently now, both from the pain and the heartbreak. “m-my wings… why?”

he didn’t answer. he couldn’t. his jaw quivered, and his knees threatened to give out.

“i trusted you,” she choked out, her voice rising with each word. “i… i loved you, hyunjin. and you—”

“i love you,” he interrupted, his voice cracking. tears streamed down his face, but his hands gripped the wings tighter, his knuckles white. “i… i’m so sorry, y/n. i… i had no choice.. i had t-”

“no,” she screamed, her voice breaking into a sob. “no, you didn’t! you didn’t have to—” her words dissolved into cries, her body collapsing to the ground as her strength gave out.

“i’m so sorry,” hyunjin whispered again, his voice trembling. he took one faltering step back, then another. “i didn’t… i didn’t want to…”

“don’t go,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible now. her hand reached out weakly toward him, blood smearing the ground beneath her. “pleae, don’t…”

but he was already backing away, his expression twisted with anguish. “i… i can’t stay,” he said, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry…”

and then he turned, running toward the shore.

“hyunjin!” she called after him, but her voice cracked, her throat raw. she collapsed again, her vision swimming as the edges of her world began to darken.

the pixies found her first, their tiny voices shrill with panic. “y/n! oh no—oh no, no, no…”

they fluttered around her, their delicate wings buzzing frantically. one of them darted off into the woods, heading straight for felix.

felix burst into the clearing moments later, his eyes wide with horror as they landed on her crumpled form. “y/n!�� he shouted, rushing to her side. his hands hovered above her, trembling as he took in the blood, the missing wings, the lifeless feathers scattered around her.

“who did this?” he demanded, his voice sharp with fury and heartbreak. “y/n, tell me! who—”

she couldn’t answer. her lips moved, but no sound came out. her eyes, filled with pain and betrayal, flickered toward the shore.

felix followed her gaze, and his heart sank. “no,” he breathed, his voice low and dangerous. “no. it couldn’t be…”

but deep down, he knew.

his hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as rage overtook him. he stood abruptly, his eyes narrowing in the direction of the shore. “stay here,” he said, his voice trembling with anger. “i’ll get him. i’ll make him pay for this.”

“felix…” y/n’s voice was barely a whisper, but he was already gone, running toward the shore.

hyunjin was by the boat when felix arrived, frantically shoving supplies into it. his hands were shaking, and his face was pale, streaked with tears.

“you fucking bastard,” felix roared, his voice booming across the shore.

felix lunged forward, but before he could reach him, hyunjin pushed the boat into the water and jumped in. felix tried to grab him, but the boat was already drifting away, carried by the tide.

“coward!” felix shouted after him, his voice filled with rage and despair. “you’re nothing but a pathetic coward! all of you humans are the same,”

felix stood on the shore, his chest heaving as the weight of what had happened settled over him. slowly, he turned back toward the forest, his heart breaking all over again at the thought of y/n lying there, broken and betrayed.

the forest felt heavier than ever, suffocating under the weight of y/n’s broken sobs. the pixies fluttered around her in disarray, their tiny voices trembling with fear and sorrow. they tried their best to help her, but their small hands could do so little against the open wounds where her wings once were. blood soaked into the grass beneath her, and her body trembled violently as she tried to sit up.

felix was kneeling beside her, his hands trembling as he carefully inspected the jagged, raw flesh on her back. his breath hitched, and he bit down hard on his lip to keep himself from breaking. he had always been her protector, her shield. but now, seeing her like this, so shattered and vulnerable, he felt utterly helpless.

y/n clutched at the grass beneath her, her nails digging into the dirt as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. her sobs were wrenching, filled with a pain that cut deeper than anything felix had ever heard before.

“my wings…” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “they’re gone,” she choked on her words, her whole body shaking as tears streamed down her face. “he took them, he took them,”

felix clenched his jaw, his heart splintering into a thousand pieces. he carefully leaned closer, his voice soft but thick with emotion. “y/n, don’t… don’t try to move. please,” he begged, his voice almost breaking. “let me, let me take care of you.”

she turned her tear-streaked face toward him, her eyes filled with devastation. “felix, it hurts,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “it hurts so much…”

“i know,” he said, his voice shaking. he reached out to gently brush her hair away from her face, his touch tender and careful. “i know, y/nnie, i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry. i couldn't protect you from that-”

the pixies flitted closer, their tiny hands trying to staunch the bleeding with makeshift cloths woven from leaves. their voices were small and filled with sorrow as they worked together, murmuring apologies and soft reassurances.

felix’s hands were steady despite his own breaking heart. he pressed a clean cloth—one the pixies handed him—against her back, trying to stop the bleeding. she let out a pained cry, her body arching slightly from the sting, and felix froze. “i’m sorry,” he whispered quickly, his voice trembling. “i’m so sorry, y/n. i have to stop the bleeding. i know it hurts. please don't leave me,”

her cries softened into whimpers as she buried her face into the crook of her arm, too weak to fight back. tears streamed freely down felix’s cheeks now, but he blinked them away, focusing entirely on her. “you’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his voice thick. “i’ll make sure of it. i promise.”

y/n’s voice was a broken whisper, her words catching on sobs. “he said he loved me, i trusted him, felix, i trusted him.”

felix felt something in his chest shatter entirely. he paused for a moment, his hands hovering above her wound as he struggled to compose himself. “i know,” he murmured, his voice barely holding together. “i know you did. and he… he didn’t deserve that trust. he didn’t deserve you.”

her crying only grew louder, her entire body trembling as she tried to speak but couldn’t find the words. felix couldn’t hold back anymore. he wrapped his arms around her gently, pulling her fragile, trembling form against his chest. “it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soft but shaking. “it’s okay, y/n. let it out. i’ve got you.”

she sobbed against him, her fists weakly clutching his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. felix held her tighter, his chin resting on the top of her head as tears slipped down his own cheeks. “you’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “you’re safe. i won’t let anyone hurt you again. i promise.”

the pixies buzzed around them, their small hands still trying to help where they could. one of them placed a tiny hand on felix’s arm, their voice trembling. “we’ll take care of her, too,” they said softly. “we’ll stay by her side.”

felix nodded, his throat too tight to speak. his fingers gently combed through y/n’s hair, his heart aching with every broken sob that escaped her lips.

“it’s okay to cry,” he whispered after a moment, his voice soothing and steady. “you don’t have to hold it in, y/n. i’m here. i’ll always be here.”

her sobs began to quiet after what felt like hours, her body still trembling but her breathing slowing. felix stayed with her, his arms wrapped around her protectively, his heart breaking with every tear she shed.

when her voice finally came, it was barely audible, a fragile whisper in the dark. “what am i without my wings, felix?”

“you’re y/n,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet strength. “you’re the strongest, kindest, most beautiful soul i’ve ever known. wings or no wings, you’re still you. and that’s all that matters.”

her tears came again, but this time they were softer, quieter. felix didn’t let go, holding her close as the night wore on. and in that moment, under the pale light of the moon, he silently vowed to never let anyone hurt her again.

y/n felt as though her soul had been torn in half, a gaping void where her wings once rested. the pain was not merely physical—it radiated deep into her core, an anguish that transcended her body and seeped into her spirit. it was as if the very essence of her being, the part that connected her to the skies and the world she loved, had been ripped away, leaving her hollow and unmoored.

the raw, jagged ache on her back was relentless, burning and stinging with every shallow breath she took. but it was nothing compared to the agony in her heart. her wings had been more than an extension of her body; they were her freedom, her identity, her connection to the magic of her world. without them, she felt like a shell of herself, reduced to something fragile and incomplete.

she could feel the emptiness, a haunting absence where her wings had once stretched, catching the sunlight and fluttering in the breeze. they had been a part of her, as vital as her heartbeat, as natural as her breath. now, she felt severed, unwhole, like a bird stripped of its feathers and cast to the ground, unable to fly, unable to soar.

the betrayal was a sharp, cutting ache that rivaled the physical pain. her mind replayed the scene over and over—the dagger glinting in the moonlight, the blood staining the earth, and the face she thought she could trust standing in the shadows. it was a cruel twist of fate, a nightmare come to life. she had let him in, let him see her, the parts of her that she guarded so carefully. and he had taken it all, with a single, merciless act.

tears poured down her face, each one heavy with grief, anger, and confusion. she didn’t understand. how could someone who had once spoken to her so tenderly, someone who had looked at her as though she were the most precious thing in the world, do this? how could he hold her heart in his hands and then shatter it so completely?

her chest heaved with the weight of her sobs, the sound raw and guttural, torn from a place deep inside her that she hadn’t even known existed. she felt like a child again—small, vulnerable, and helpless. her wings had been her strength, her shield against the world, and now they were gone, leaving her exposed and trembling.

she couldn’t stop the spiral of despair that consumed her. what was she now, without her wings? how could she face the world, the skies, her friends? she had always been the one who shone, who lifted others up with her light and laughter. now, she felt like nothing but a shadow, dim and fading.

the world around her seemed to dim as well, the colors muted, the sounds distant. the stars above, once her constant companions, felt cold and far away, as though they, too, had turned their backs on her. she felt untethered, adrift in a sea of pain and loss, with no anchor to hold onto, no way to find her way back.

every inch of her body ached, but it was her soul that bore the brunt of the pain. it was a grief so profound it swallowed her whole, leaving her gasping for air.

she was broken, utterly and completely, and she didn’t know if she could ever be pieced back together.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger

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utterlyotterlyx · 9 months ago

Text

Written In The Stars

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - As Azriel prepares himself for your wedding day, he recounts the moments where all of his dreams came true.

Warnings - fluff central, slight touch of angst, pining Az, lots of love all round

If there was anything that Azriel was sure of, it was you. It would always be you.

That morning had started the same as any other, although, there were two key differences. The first difference was that his mate hadn’t woken up beside him, and he walked through his memories and smiled at the one where Nesta, Feyre, Mor, and Elain had coaxed you out of the house whilst Amren sternly told the three Illyrians to not interrupt your last night as an unmarried woman or else face her wrath.

Azriel recounted the innocent terror in your eyes and chuckled roughly as the sun warmed his skin, urging him to wake.

Then he noted the second difference to his morning, it turned out that the day ahead wasn’t going to be like any other, and that no day would ever compare to what was to come. It was his wedding day. The day that he married the love of his life, his mate, his reason for existing.

His y/n.

Remembering the past 400 years, it dumbfounded Azriel how the bond hadn’t snapped sooner considering he had spent the better part of those 400 years pining after you, hopelessly in love with you and growing increasingly frustrated at your unawareness toward his affections.

There was no one in the world that was as bright and perfect as you.

They had met you in Windhaven, on a night so brutal that you had never nor ever would speak of it, and it was the only place you could go where your light would blinker. It flashed on your face often. Being the daughter to an Illyrian general meant that you had unfortunately fallen victim to the barbaric act known as wing clipping, and it was something you had worked your entire life to destroy.

Despite it all, you were as radiant as the sun, you were gifted that from your mother, she was the most beautiful person you'd ever think you'd see. Until Azriel that is. There was a certain warmth about you, a gut-wrenching scent of home that Azriel could never quite explain, an aura that pulled everyone around you into serenity and soothed any of their pain.

The day Rhys had figured out that you were an empathic healer was the day he knew that you and Azriel were meant to be. No one could soothe his pain more than you, and when he slept next to you he actually slept. No demons haunted his dreams, every villainous thought evaporated from his mind, and he felt peaceful. Truly peaceful.

Azriel remembered the moment the bond had snapped as if it had only occurred yesterday. It was one of the warmer days of the year and you had insisted upon a family day out, they were too rare even though you all spent the majority of your time together; you had leveraged Tarquin's adoration of you in your collective favour and bagged the family a day on the beaches of the Summer Court, promising that you'd keep a strict eye on Cassian and personally tie him to a pole if he stepped one toe out of line. Azriel had simply chuckled at your might as the words left your mouth.

Summer had always called to you, perhaps it was the sound of the waves, maybe it was the sand between your toes or the salted breeze that drifted by. Whatever it was, it moulded with you. Azriel had never seen you happier actually. The moment the bond had snapped had taken him by complete surprise, you were walking through the water with Nyx in your arms, occasionally dunking the babe in the water and smiling at his wild laughter as he emerged; when Nyx had resurfaced and grabbed your face in his little hands, staring at you like the brightest star in the sky, did the bond snap for Azriel.

Since that moment all he could ever imagine was the image of you with your own child, his child.

Frustratingly, the bond hadn't snapped for you in that moment, which was annoying as it was the perfect setting for it. Azriel dreamt of it when you had all returned home that evening, he dreamt of you feeling the snap and turning around with Nyx bundled up into your arms, he dreamt of your eyes connecting across the beach and the most serene smile etching its way onto your lips before the most joyful giggle passed through them.

But no, the Mother had decided to drag it out for as long as she possible could.

The entire of the Inner Circle had figured it out long before you did, only, you didn't figure it out. Azriel had pretty much screamed it at you after seeing you getting a little too up close and personal with another male during Starfall.

No one could have even tried to compare to your beauty that night, you wore a sheer dress embellished with a thousand crystals, priceless jewels that had been crafted just for you. The Star of Velaris. No one could shine brighter, not if they even wished it, and all eyes were on you and the silhouette of your figure the moment you stepped into the hall that was dressed to perfection at the House of Wind.

All air had left his lungs when his eyes found yours twinkling in the faelight, constellations inking your irises, and he knew then that no matter what he was going to tell you that he was your mate. Azriel was nervous, it was very well known that no one could ever be good enough for you, and he was terrified that you wouldn't accept it; and even more than that, Azriel was afraid that he'd lose you as a pillar in his life altogether.

Rhys had instructed the quartet to play your favourite rendition of your favourite song, it was slow and romantic, a flurry of alluring strides from the violins and crashing crescendos, if you could be a song then it would certainly be that one. Though, before Azriel could ask you to dance with him to the sweet melody, another male had swept in and taken you, curling his digits around the curve of your hip in a way that was meant to be his to do and his alone.

Azriel watched from the side-lines, itching to cut in and bring his plan to fruition, but he couldn't ruin a night made for you, not when you'd gone through so much effort to be the most spectacular thing in the room. Not that you needed to try by any means.

The moment you smiled at the male, so sultry, exposing all of your gleaming white teeth into a smile that could only be described as captivating, did Azriel completely lose his mind. Azriel crossed the dancefloor, gripping your wrist just as you were about to expose your neck to the male who believed he was righteous enough to have you, and dragged you from sight leaving behind the Inner Circle who all exchanged smug knowing looks to one another at the situation at hand.

"Azriel! What are you doing? Will you just stop for one pissing second?!" Your voice reverberated against the walls, you were struggling to keep up with his stalking, the effortless curls Mor had spent the better part of two hours styling whipping past your face in the breeze he was creating. "I swear to the Mother, Azriel. Will you please just slow down?"

It seemed as though Azriel had heard the request and cut his speed by a third, making it easier for you to scramble after him. You had continued to ask him what his problem was as he dragged you through the House of Wind, all up until he pushed through a familiar set of looming doors and pulled you in front of him, taking the opportunity to close the doors upon his own exit onto the balcony.

Looking at you in the moonlight despite your fury made him forget the reason why he dragged you from the party that you had helped Feyre to arrange, the way your dress sparkled in the light made him lose all sense entirely. "Did you drag me out here to say absolutely nothing? If so, I'll just head back to the party," you went to move past him, your fingers barely grazing the doorhandle before he wrapped a strong arm around your midsection and lifted you, setting you onto the ground on the other side of the clearing, "What is going on with you? Did something happen?" When he said nothing you took a step backward, the small of your back colliding with the stone railing keeping you from toppling over the edge, "Az, you're scaring me."

He'd never want to scare you, he fumbled with his words, stuttering out what he needed you to hear, and upon the sound of his insecurity your eyes softened. Tilting your head to the side gently to inspect him further, you hadn't noticed your hair sweep across your back, exposing the skin of your neck to him which almost sent him into a frenzy right then and there.

"You were dancing with him."

Furrowing your brow, you asked incredulously, "Am I not allowed to dance with a male now?"

"No. I mean, of course you are. Just not him."

"Then with who?"

That usual wit was prominent in the way you popped your hip to the side, hand resting on the bone as your temper rose, "You're meant to dance with me."

Scoffing, you turned around to face the open air, noting the flurry of gold from the valley below, turning your head to the side you smiled at the music floating from the ballroom in the grand hall, "I always dance with you, Az."

It wasn't a lie, you always sought Azriel out at these kind of events, even in the comfort of the River House it wasn't odd for Rhys or Cassian to return home to see you and Azriel dancing in the living area to some serene folk melody. The two were the first to know of the bond, Azriel had told them one evening when you had padded off to bed in one of his jumpers that drowned you, a ghosting grin tugged at his lips and he said, "Isn't my mate the most perfect creature you've ever witnessed?"

"It's not enough," Azriel approached you, admiring the way the breeze floated by your figure, sending the tendrils of your curls dancing in the wind that his shadows immediately shot out from his shoulders to waltz with.

A gentle chuckle rolled from your tongue at the act, you had always adored them, and they always found a certain level of peace when with you, just like everyone did. Turning back to him, you leaned against the railing, your fingers curling around the hem, "Dancing with you isn't enough? How about all the nights we've fallen asleep next to one another reading? Or maybe all of the dinners we've been out to? Or the thousands of evenings where we've gotten drunk off our asses and gossiped? What about the countless missions we've been on together?"

The ignorance was making his blood boil with need, and he couldn't stop the words from flying from his mouth, "I'm your mate, y/n!"

Your body stilled, your eyes widened in shock, and the tether of your soul swam out to greet his own, curling around it and shuddering in untold delight but you didn't move at the sensation, you hadn't even let out a breath, "I have loved you for 400 years regardless of it, I've loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you all those years ago in Windhaven. I love everything that you have become, everything that you have grown into. It snapped the day we went to the Summer Court, the day you told Cassian that if he misbehaved that you'd tie him to a pole?" A huff of amusement flew from your lips at the memory, Cassian had never been so terrified of you in that moment.

"I was content in waiting for you no matter if it took 4 months or 400 years, I was happy to sit a watch you live your life whilst waiting for it to snap, but I can't stand by and watch another males hands roam all over you. It makes me think the most violent things I have ever thought in my entire existence."

"I didn't want to ruin it for you, but I can't watch another male hold you when I know that it should be me," Azriel strode over to you, cupping your face in his hand whilst his other wound around your own, pulling it your chest and resting your palm over your heart, "I'm yours y/n. Completely, utterly, hopelessly yours. So please say something, anything."

A moment passed, a moment that felt like an eternity to him as he waited for those beautiful lips to make a sound, "You've loved me for 400 years?" Azriel barely heard your question, he lowered his gaze to meet yours, brushing a stray stand of hair behind your ear and grazing the shell of it.

The gates of the bond had flung right open, and all you felt was the pure adoration and certainty of his feelings for you flowing down the tether tying your souls together, it made you feel as though you were floating. Azriel nodded, "And I know that it's impossible to love you more than I do right now, but I know that tomorrow I will, and each day after that."

Furling your fingers into the lapels of the jacket you had picked out for him, you pulled Azriel down to meet your lips in a clash of desperate nips and teeth; his hold strengthened around you, leaning you back into the stone railing and allowing his hands to rest on your neck and the small of your back as he deepened the embrace, moving his lips against yours in a way he was only able to dream of. Parting for air, you smirked against his lips, "I love you too."

Then the skies opened, streaks of starlight soured across the blank canvas of the night, like they were waiting for you both to finish until they put on their show. The citizens of Velaris couldn't stop talking about how it was the most magnificent Starfall they had ever witnessed, and both of you were inclined to agree.

It had made complete sense that the balcony where Azriel had confessed his feelings to you was the same place where you had decided to get married a year later to the exact day.

Mor and Nesta had made sure that the balcony was covered in faelights, Elain had designed a beautiful flower arch of orchids and freshly bloomed cala lilies that Lucien had been instructed to erect that morning, and Feyre was in charge of everything else. Bestowing the title of maid of honour to Feyre was the smartest decision you had made in the entire process, Cassian pouted for three days after she had accepted, but then you had asked Rhys to officiate the ceremony which meant that by default Cassian became Azriel's best man.

The fact that Azriel hadn't seen you for almost a day was driving him insane, he had to be near you each moment he was in the city, and even on missions he would constantly flood the bond with his love for you so that you'd know that he was alright and that he was just as obsessed with you as he was the moment he would leave. Every second you were with one another meant that he had to be touching you, whether it be his fingers grasping the skin of your thigh or pulling you onto his lap so he that could be as entwined with you as possible.

Even when he was meant to be readying himself for his wedding, all he could think about was you, he sent a flow of love and unwavering certainty down the bond and smirked to himself like a bashful schoolboy when the same flood was sent back to him.

"Are you ready to get married, Az? You can still run, no one would judge you," Azriel sent Cassian a warning glare, earning him a small apology in return for the stupid remark. There was no reality where Azriel wouldn't choose you, your bargain tattoo was proof of that fact, a promise you had both made the night you had solidified the bond, a promise that you would always find one another in any lifetime, in any world. One would not exist without the other.

Azriel's suit was impeccable, just how Feyre had ordered it to be, a black open collared shirt and form fitting pants, and a slightly oversized midnight blazer made that way because Feyre knew you'd be asking for it at some point during the course of the night. If Azriel looked this good then he could only imagine how other-worldly you would appear at the end of the aisle.

You had both decided on an intimate ceremony, the Inner Circle only, it meant more to you both that way. But the party afterward would be packed full of friends from across the continent, a rare allowance from Rhys for such a special occasion. Which meant that all of the High Lords were to be in attendance, which meant some very luxurious gifts for you and your to-be husband.

The night was perfect, a soft summer breeze floated through the city from the west, the warm faelights sparkled against the backdrop of the night sky and the golden valley of the city below, illuminating the pristinely bloomed flowers in their collective hue.

Azriel awaited you at the end of the aisle patiently, stood between Rhys and Cassian who were beaming with pride, the latter doing his best to contain his tears. Mor, Amren, Elain and Lucien found their places on either side of the makeshift aisle and all looked back as the door opened to reveal Feyre wearing a beautiful blue-grey gown adorned with crystals embellished into the skirt; she had clearly been crying, and that fact made a silent sob catch in Azriel's throat.

The High Lady approached the arch, smiling brightly at Azriel and blinking away her tears before kissing Rhys on the cheek and stepping off to the side. A gentle song consumed the small quartet that you had insisted upon having at the ceremony, playing the most beautiful rendition of your favourite song, a song that meant a great deal to both of you.

Inhaling deeply, Azriel watched the doors open once more, revealing Nesta with your arm linked through hers, she was wearing the twin dress to Feyre, her hair was unbound down her spine, and she had began crying before the doors had even opened by the way she dabbed a tissue against her cheeks.

Then he found you, your skin shimmered in the faelight, like a star had floated from the sky and brushed against your skin. The dress threatened to make him crumple to his knees, a white long-sleeved off-the-shoulder garment that accentuated every single curve and angle of your form; a thigh high cut in the fabric exposed your calf and that bargain tattoo on your thigh. Then was the matter of the veil, intricately crafted so that the hem resembled tendrils of white shadow, his own shadows reacted instantly, flowing from his body and pecking the hem of it as you drifted up the aisle arm in arm with Nesta.

Nesta hugged you tightly before finding her place beside Feyre, and you turned to Azriel, taking his outstretched hand and stepping up to the dais, "I told you that I'd love you more today," he spoke lowly, just loud enough for you alone to hear.

This time the stars didn't wait for the descent, the moment your lips touched one another, the stars unleashed their joy across the night sky, casting their glow across the entire city and dragging themselves right across the balcony where you stood, showering you and your husband in their love and happiness.

The entire of the Inner Circle danced well into the early hours of the morning, and you were right, inviting the other High Lords did have it perks considering the gifts you had received. But when the party began to die down and the last few souls dwindled in your presence, did Azriel whisk you away back to that balcony where you had both confessed your love a year prior, pulling you close to his body and ensuring that the night at the House of Wind ended doing the thing you loved doing most. Dancing in one another's arms until Azriel scooped you up and carried you back to your shared home on the bank of the Sidra.

It was safe to say that the Inner Circle didn't dare to contact you for an entire month afterward.

Author's Note

Just a little one from me x

524 notes · View notes

ninii-winchester · 6 months ago

Text

Lie to me

Pairing : Dean Winchester X reader

Word count : 4k

Warnings : angst, hurt/no comfort, Major character death, depressing thoughts, canon violence.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Dean was tossing and turning in his bed in the motel room. Sam was soundly asleep on the other bed. The two of them had just burn the bones of an old lady who was haunting her old house after she'd committed suicide. Dean was tired but he couldn't fall asleep. He quietly left the room and made his way towards Baby. He knew he shouldn't disturb Y/n this late but he knew she barely slept herself. It was two in the morning and he texted her asking if she's awake and she called him instead of answering.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Was the first thing she asked as he picked up.

"I could ask you the same thing." He retorted settling in the front seat of the Impala.

"I'm not the one who came from a hunt." She replied and he chuckled. He loved how she reprimanded him for the exact same thing she does herself. He knew she wouldn't let it go unless he turned the conversation around, so he filled her in all about the hunt and how she should've joined them for this one.

"It was literally just a ghost. Salt and burn. It didn't even need two people and you're saying I should've came along too." She replied sassily. They talked for a while when she suddenly asked, "why didn't you find someone to entertain you for the night?" Dean shrugged even though she couldn't see him.

"Why would I need to find someone else when I could easily call my sweetheart." He replied with a smirk and she could hear it in his voice. This was something she hated about Dean. He constantly flirted with her and called her nicknames but never went further. She knew she had a small crush on him, who wouldn't. But he never showed any interest in her other than his incessant flirting. He hooked up with women left and right. He never even bothered to react when she was approached by guys or even if she left with one, once in a blue moon. She wasn't the type to sleep around but a girl has here needs, and finding a partner in this type of lifestyle can be a hassle. She knew Dean wouldn't turn her down if she made a move but she didn't want to be just another woman in Dean Winchester's bed so she never acted on her feelings. But his behaviour made it harder for her to keep her feelings at bay.

"I think you should've." She replied try to keep the bitterness out of her tone but it didn't go unnoticed by Dean.

"Why should I have?" He questioned curiously. He couldn't quite understand why she became so dismissive when the two were having a great conversation.

"I'm going to sleep, Dean. You should too." She faked a yawn and he could tell something was off. She was his best friend and he could tell she was hiding something. But at the same time he knew she wouldn't tell him no matter how hard he tried to get it out of her. That's just how she was. He let out a sigh and said goodbye hanging up. Dean wondered what made her cut the call short. He recalled the whole conversation hoping he could remember if he said something to upset her. But nothing came to mind. He let out another sigh before getting out the car and going back to his motel room.

Y/n dropped onto the mattress of the motel room she was staying at. She herself had finished a salt and burn two days ago in a town in Michigan, but she didn't leave because she liked this place. The motel room wasn't as bad as the others she'd been to and the people were nice. And there were no other hunts that she knew of. She didn't like the research work to find hunts so she mostly relied on Bobby to send cases her way. Or any other hunter who needed backup.

She laid on her back and stared up at the ceiling. She wasn't aware of the supernatural and she lived a normal life. John Winchester once saved her from a Wendigo in the woods and she'd been grateful to him. When she had another run in with a supernatural creature, a ghost in her apartment, she called John but he didn't answer and she found his son's number from his voicemail. And that's how she met Dean. He was a flirt, she gathered the minute he walked inside her apartment and confirmed it when she cheekily asked her if she wanted to thank him some other way. She remembered the way she rolled her eyes at him and told him off and how he chuckled, sending a wink her way, telling her to call him if she changed her mind. But she also remembers how she found him extremely attractive.

Knowing about the supernatural and running into trouble twice she decided to learn to defend herself. She called Dean and asked if he could teach her. Luckily for her, he agreed saying how he didn't have anything better to do since his brother went to college and his father left him on his own. She learnt stuff quickly and after a hunt with Dean, she knew she wanted to help save people for the rest of her life. He introduced her to Bobby and Sam, when he came back and the rest was history.

Her phone rang and she groaned not wanting to deal with anyone at the moment. Calls with Dean often mess with her and she had a hard time convincing herself that it's just how he is and it's nothing serious. She looked at the caller ID and furrowed her brows.

"Do you ever check the time before calling?." She spoke into her phone.

"Good morning your highness, my apologies. Did you have your tea yet?" Bobby sassed from the other side of the phone and she rolled her eyes.

"I drink coffee. Keep up old man." The man grunted in response and she chuckled. He told her he found a case and its a huge vampire nest, with probably fifteen vampires and they're causing trouble in Rockford, Illinois. "Are you really so tired of me that you're sending me there by myself?" She joked making Bobby roll his eyes to the back of his head.

"I've called Sam and Dean too. They'll meet you there." He replied. She affirmed that she heard him. Saying their goodbyes she hung the phone.

Just what I need.

She met up with the Winchesters the next day. Dean tried to get her to talk to him but she brushed him off, not bothering with him unless it was hunt related. Sam furrowed his brows at the interaction clearly baffled as she's never dismissed Dean before. The hunt went pretty well and Y/n finally let loose. She went to her friendly self as they hit the nearest bar for celebratory drinks. Her mood instantly dampened when a pretty brunette walked up to Dean and he flashed her his ever so charming smile. Y/n frowned as Dean let the woman whisk him away for the night. She'd expected him to stay but it was just wishful thinking. She knew he would never refuse a good time.

"Why don't you just tell him?" Sam quipped from beside her as she peeled at the label of her beer bottle, fingers picking at the edges absentmindedly. She sent him a glare but he didn't waver, and shot her a look.

"It's Dean. The chances of him cutting me off are far greater than him wanting anything real with me." She replied taking a swig of her drink.

"That's not..." Sam tried to defend his brother but then he stopped himself mid sentence. He knows Dean wouldn't want to risk getting close to anyone, even if it's Y/n.

Y/n patted Sam on his arm, reassuring him that she's fine and he doesn't have to make excuses for his brother. Surprisingly enough, Dean left the Impala to Sam so he left early and since she had her own car, she took her time going back. She arrived at the motel but she didn't want to go inside their room, not yet atleast. She noticed a swing set right outside the motel which was unlikely for places like these. She made her way to the swings and sat down on one. Self deprecating thoughts thoughts swarmed inside her head as she looked up at the sky.

It's her own fault she fell for the hunter anyways. She should've known she wasn't someone he'd want to be with. She's not the ideal woman one would want. At least not someone like Dean would want. She doesn't have the perfect curvy figure or any specific features that make her stand out. Her hair's unkept most of the time and she's got scars all over her body. She's not desirable.

She didn't know how much time had passed but she could see the darkness fade around her. The sun wasn't up yet it wasn't dark anymore. With a loud sigh she continued to stare ahead to figure out a way she could get out of this mess without a heartbreak. She heard the familiar thump of boots against the pavement and looked up to see Dean walking towards the motel. He had his jacket in his hand and he was whistling as he walked.

At least someone had a good night.

Dean noticed a figure perched on a swing and recognised the silhouette. With hurried steps he approached her and took a seat beside her on the swing. She turned to look at him and immediately regretted seeing the red and purple hickies that lingered on his neck.

"What're you doing out here?" Dean asked staring at her face.

"Just thinking. Did you have a good night?" Y/n replied, she wondered if she's some sort a masochist who finds pleasure in inflicting pain upon oneself.

"Yeah it was good. What're you thinking about?" Dean was curious, she'd been acting distant and he wanted to know why. She's even sitting out here in the early hours of the day when she should've been sleeping. "You're distant." He added like a child who lost his toy. He missed his best friend if he was being honest.

"Really Dean? I wasn't the who one left my friends for sex." She didn't intend to snap but his words struck a nerve and she felt the need to defend herself.

"You say as if you've never done that before!" Dean replied sharply. "Something is going on with you that you're clearly not telling me." He was getting frustrated with her behaviour and he needed to know.

"Well maybe I don't like watching you go off with women all the time." She answered harshly and he flinched at her tone. He could only managed to choke out a 'What?' not getting what she meant. She stared ahead keeping quiet.

"What's the supposed to mean?" Dean asked again.

"You're really gonna make me say it, won't you?" She scoffed and he shook his head in confusion. "I like you Dean, more than a friend." She said quietly, hoping he didn't hear her but the silence enveloping them made it left no doubt that he heard her loud and clear. She had prepared herself for his rejection but she didn't think his silence would hurt this bad.

"Y/n I, I've never-..." he stuttered not knowing how to get his point through without breaking her heart. "I've always thought of you as my best friend, is all." She looked down at her lap, nodding her head in understanding. There we no tears however her heart was being ripped apart inside.

"Why'd you always make me feel special? Constant flirt with me and gave me those nicknames. Why'd you act like you cared?" Dean rubbed a hand over his head. "Why'd you lead me on?" Her voice was small and accusing.

"It wasn't an act. I do care about you. I didn't mean to. I thought..." he trailed off not wanting to hurt her any more than he already did.

"I get it." She cleared her throat. What else was she supposed to say or do? Throw a fit? The option she had was to accept the fact that he wouldn't love her ever.

"I do love you, Y/n/n. Just not the way you-" He started but she interrupted him.

"I said I get it, Dean." She nodded again. "I think we should go inside." She said standing up from her place and heading towards the room. Sam was fast asleep when she entered the room. She sat on the pullout couch when Dean entered the room and settled on the other bed. They would usually share the bed since they'd been best friends for years but now it all seemed too awkward. Even being in the same room as him was suffocating her.

After hours of tossing and turning Dean finally slipped into a deep slumber and Y/n took it as a chance to grab her stuff and slip out of the room, and their lives. For good.

When Sam woke up he noticed Y/n was gone. Her was not in the parking lot and her bag was gone too. He shook his brother awake notifying him of her departure. Dean knew she would want to have some time apart but he didn't expect her to leave without as much as a goodbye.

"Why'd did she leave without saying goodbye?" Sam wondered out loud and Dean looked at his feet. He knew the reason she left, he was the reason she left. He shouldn't have been so careless with his gestures that gave her the wrong idea. Sam recognised the look on his brother's face as guilt. "What did you do?" He asked and Dean looked up.

"What makes you think I did something?" Dean felt offended at his brother's accusation.

"Because it's written all over your face so fucking spill." Sam glared at his brother folding his arms across his chest.

"I just told her the truth." Sam raised his brow, gesturing him to continue. "She told me she liked me and I told her I don't feel the same. It's not my fault she couldn't be an adult about it." Dean snapped, his anger flaring up as he felt unfairly portrayed as the villain.

"You told you her you don't reciprocate her feelings?" Sam asked incredulously. "Dean are you insanse why would you say that?"

"Because that's the truth!! I told her I loved her as a friend, not in the way she wants me to." Dean snapped back. Sam shook his head at his brother's stupidity. Sam knew deep down Dean loved Y/n more than anyone. She was his best friend but most of she was that one person had made a special place in his brother's heart.

Sam didn't say anything instead he went out to call Y/n. She didn't any of his calls and it went straight to voicemail. She didn't want to talk to anyone. All she wants is to deal with her heartbreak once and for all. And then she'll go back to her friends, to Dean. And they can pretend it never happened.

Four months passed without any contact with the boys and Y/n was nowhere near getting over Dean. She'd assumed hearing him reject her would get her the closure she needed to get over her crush it seemed to be more than a crush. Over the four months Sam continued to call her and leave messages for her and she would always just send him a little text telling him alive. Nothing other than that. He was atleast greatful that was alive.

Y/n had found a ghoul case in Ohio and as much as she hated those awful creatures she decided to go. The ghoul had been digging up graves to feed on the dead, so she made her way to the cemetery, a molotov cocktail and lighter safely tucked in her jacket and a machete in case something goes southways.

With a flashlight tightly gripped in her hand she entered the cemetery. It was late and she could she a silhouette a few feet away from where she stood. It was hunched over something and she could tell he was feeding off of a dead body. She grimaced as she neared the creature. The crunch of leaves beneath her boot resounded in the otherwise quiet cemetery making the ghoul turn to look at her. The ghoul hissed at her and jumped at her before she could react. With a swift motion she dodged it and moved aside kicking it away. The creature seem to grow angry and lurched towards her, it managed to hold her arm and bit her forearm. She screamed in agony as it’s sharp teeth dug into her flesh. She took a deep breath before she pushed at his chest, the ghoul taking it as an opening to dig its claw in the side and rip a patch of flesh from her body. Y/n headbutted it and the ghoul went barreling straight into a tombstone. She fell to the ground and quickly took out the Molotov cocktail and lit it up before throwing it at it, burning it alive.

Now that the ghoul was taken care of she moved backwards until her back hit one of the tombstones and cradled her side. She was bleeding profusely and she knew she couldn’t make it out of here on her own. She could call for help but she wasn’t sure who to call. She was too prideful to call the boys. She dug out her phone from her jacket and called Bobby. He grumbled as he answered the call.

“This better be good.” The old man said over the phone. Y/n let out a chuckle at his words.

“Heya Bobby. Ran into a bit of trouble.” She said sheepishly.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

“Ghoul ripped my side if that’s your definition of trouble. And he bit my arm.” She scoffed followed by a chuckled.

“Where are you damnit?”

“Ohio.” She breathed out feeling herself getting tired. Bobby cursed under his breath. Ohio was a good hundred miles away. It would take him hours to reach her.

"Ohio? Damn, y/n, that’s a long way. How you even end up all the way out there?" She didn’t answer, instead she coughed, spitting the blood beside her. Bobby sighed knowing he couldn’t get to her in time. “Hey keep talking. Describe your surroundings to me.” He put her on speaker as he called Sam from his other phone. He didn’t answer so he left him a voicemail.

“Its a dark cemetery, trees are pretty though.” He heard her voice becoming quiet. “Not bad for a last view huh?” She chuckled and Bobby took in a sharp breath. He really wanted to reprimand her not to say things like that but at this point he wasn’t even sure if she’d make it. “Hey, can I call you back?” She asked randomly. The old man frowned asking her why but she didn’t respond. Instead she hung up on him. With her vision blurred she managed to call Dean. The phone rang for a few seconds and to her surprise he answered.

“Y/n?”

“Dean.” She mumbled. “I didn’t wake you up did I?” breathing was shallow and irregular, each breath coming in ragged gasps as if the air itself was slipping away.

“Y/n? What’s wrong? You sound-” She interrupted him.

“You have pretty eyes. They’d make good for a last view.” She chuckled. Dean's heart skipped a beat at her words. There was something in your tone, something that made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean, ‘last view’?" Dean clenched his jaw, a sense of dread building in his gut. Something was wrong, very wrong. He quickly woke Sam and filled him in on the situation.

“I’m sorry I walked out.” She coughed up more blood and sputtered, choking on it. “I’m sorry for ruining….our friendship.” Dean shook his head already making his way towards his car. Sam following behind.

“Where are you? What happened?” Dean was now getting anxious. She sounded so fragile, as if she was on the verge of her end. God—he didn’t even want to think about it.

“Ohio Cemetery, Ghoul.” She heard him open his car door and slamming it shut. “I just wanted to….. I love you Dean. Tell Sam I’m sorry.” She could feel her tears builidng up as hot white pain surged through her body.

“No…no no, don’t you dare die on me.” He growled stepping on the gas. “I’m coming to get you.” She smiled wistfully, knowing it’s futile. She’s not going to make it.

“Hey Dean.” Her breaths came in faint, uneven whispers, barely rising above the sound of the surrounding silence. “Do me a favour?” Tears sprung to Dean’s eyes and he nodded his head even though she couldn’t see him.

“Anything. Just please hold on. I’m on my way.” He begged, his heart felt like it was being crushed under a weight of helplessness.

“Lie to me.” She whispered and Dean’s foot stepped on the brakes making the Impala swerve a bit. Sam looked at his brother as the car came to a halt. “Lie to me once please.” Dean knew what she meant, he knew what she wanted him to say. But he couldn’t lie to her. Not when she’s taking her last breath. And because it wouldn’t be a lie.

“I can’t.” He whispered and she sucked in a sharp breath. “I can’t lie to you. But I can tell you I love you. It’s the truth.” Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the overwhelming sense of grief, sorrow and regret. “I love you so much it hurts.” He cried. Sam patted his brother on the back, unable to hold onto his own tears.

“You sound pretty convincing.” Y/n chuckled feeling the strength in her limbs drain with every passing moment, and her once-strong grip had become weak and feeble.

“It’s the truth, I just didn’t want you to be in danger because of me. I wanted to protect you. I pushed you away. When all I wanted was to hold you close to me. I do fucking love you.” Dean said angrily. Not angry at her but with himself for being a fool, for letting her go. For not being there to protect her.

“It’s okay.” She whispered. The atmosphere around her felt heavy and somber, marking the approach of an inevitable end. “I love you.” She felt the phone slip from her grasp as she took in her final breath. The phone fell to ground with a thud, and Dean panicked.

Dean’s desperate pleas through the phone fell into a haunting void, the line now carrying only the echoes of his sorrow. The sudden, silence left a heavy, unspoken grief that seemed to linger, a stark reminder of a love that was cut short by the cruel hand of fate.

“Y/n? Sweetheart? C’mon please talk to me.” He begged through the phone but all he got was silence from the other end. “Baby please.” Dean was overwhelmed by a crushing sense of guilt, his chest tightening with every recollection of what had transpired. He was the reason it ended like it, she left him twice, all because of his own cowardice. He was scared to love her and she left him forever. His every thought was consumed by the desire to undo the harm he believed he had caused. But it was too late now and he’s left behind to bare the consequences of his own actions.

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