#Rare Pair Extravaganza | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sadnymi · 1 year ago

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「 ✦ cloud nine. ✦ 」

Mattheo riddle x reader [part2]

Summary: The "jinx girl," as they call her, is said to bring bad luck. However, when Mattheo Riddle decides to get to know the school's most neglected girl and takes matters into his own hands, Y/N's life is turned upside down in a mere night.

Warnings:fluff,smut, angst

Words: 11.2k

The whispers followed me like a shroud, a constant murmur that swirled around the edges of my existence. "The jinx girl ," they hissed, punctuated by snickers and pointed fingers. Bad luck, they believed, clung to me like a second skin, a misfortune I carried wherever I went.

Hogwarts, a place that promised magic and wonder, had become a labyrinth of avoidance. Empty seats flanked me in Potions, desks strategically moved away in Charms, and hushed conversations abruptly stopped when I entered the room. I was a pariah, a freak, the girl who supposedly brought misfortune upon anyone who dared come close.

Every dropped potion, every sprained ankle, every lost Quidditch match - all blamed on me, Y/N Y/L/N, the harbinger of bad luck. Hogwarts, once a dream, had become a prison. Even the ghosts seemed to cower at my presence.

Professor Flitwick, a whirlwind of energy and charm despite his diminutive stature, announced a project for our Charms class.

"Partnering up for a Conjuring Extravaganza!" he squeaked, his voice a high-pitched melody. "Showcase your enchanting skills with a partner of your choosing!"

The room erupted in excited chatter, students scrambling to find their partners. I, however, remained rooted to the spot, a familiar ache twisting in my gut. Who would want to pair up with the cursed child? As if sensing my despair, Professor Flitwick's bright blue eyes twinkled in my direction.

"Don't worry, Miss Y/L/N," he chirped, "there's always a perfect match for everyone!"

His words offered little comfort. The pairings continued, each giggling duo a stark reminder of my isolation. Just when I resigned myself to another solo project, a voice cut through the din.

"I'll pair with Y/L/N ."

The classroom fell silent. Heads swiveled in unison, disbelief etched on their faces. It was Mattheo Riddle, the Slytherin prince with a reputation as sharp as his intellect .

Professor Flitwick, however, beamed like a firework had gone off in his tiny fist. "Excellent choice, Mr. Riddle!"

My jaw dropped. Mattheo Riddle? Partnering with me ? the jinxing girl ? It was as unexpected as a dragon hatching a pixie. A ripple of surprised murmurs coursed through the class. Did he just volunteer? Was this a cruel joke?

stole a glance at Mattheo, half expecting a smirk or a sly wink that would shatter the illusion of kindness.

But instead, he met my gaze with a genuine, albeit hesitant, smile. It was a rare sight on his usually stoic face, a flicker of warmth that sent a jolt through me. He sauntered over, his confident stride somehow softened as he approached me.

"Fancy working together, (Y/N)?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. It was the first time he'd ever addressed me directly, to talk to , and the informality sent a wave of heat rushing to my cheeks.

"I... I uh, sure," I stammered, still struggling to process the situation.

Professor Flitwick launched into the specifics of the project, outlining the different magical creatures we could try conjuring. Mattheo, however, seemed more interested in me. He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper.

"So," he began, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "what kind of magic are you most comfortable with love ?"he said, pulling up a chair next to me.

My heart skipped a beat. No one had ever used that term – "love" – with me before. It was a small word, but in that moment, it felt like a lifeline thrown across the chasm of isolation.

A hesitant smile tugged at my lips. "I, uh, I'm actually quite good with summoning charms," I confessed, surprised by my own boldness.

His smile widened. "Excellent," he said, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "I'm more of a transfiguration specialist. We could combine our strengths."

Combine our strengths? The thought of working alongside Mattheo, of learning from him and maybe even teaching him a thing or two myself, sent a thrill through me.

A comfortable silence settled between us as we delved into the project details. Professor Flitwick's lecture faded into background noise . Mattheo surprised me with his easygoing nature, his sharp intellect tempered with a dry wit that made me laugh, a sound that felt foreign escaping my lips.

Finally, Professor Flitwick called out the end of class. "Alright, class! Dismissed! Remember, be creative, be precise, and most importantly, have fun!"

My heart still hammered in my chest, a mixture of trepidation and a strange, exhilarating thrill. Mattheo gathered his books, and as he turned to leave, he caught my eye “ see you around Y/L/N “

The crisp autumn air sent a shiver down my spine as I settled onto the worn wooden bench in the school gardens. pulled out the book I burrowed from the library earlier , determined to bury myself in its intricacies and forget the entire debacle.

The rhythmic crunch of gravel on the path drew my attention. I glanced up, bracing myself for another encounter with Pansy and her posse, only to find Mattheo approaching. His expression was unreadable, a mix of curiosity and something I couldn't quite decipher.

He stopped a few steps away, a silent question hanging in the air. Surprised, I stammered, "M-Mattheo? What are you doing here?"

A hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice softer than I was accustomed to hearing from him.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Was this real? "I, uh, sure," I managed, gesturing to the empty space beside me.

He sat down, our shoulders brushing slightly. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words. Stealing a glance at him, I noticed his gaze fixed on the book in my lap. "Studying for the Charms exam?"

I shook my head. "Actually, this is more of a personal read. It's about obscure magical creatures."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh? Intriguing. Anything interesting?"

Hesitantly, I explained the book's exploration of Fae lore, their connection to emotions and the delicate balance they maintained with the human world.

To my surprise, Mattheo listened intently, occasionally asking insightful questions that sparked further discussion. We delved into the complexities of Fae magic, debated the ethics of human interaction with these mythical beings.

A playful glint flickered in his dark eyes, and a hint of a smile danced on his lips as he listened to my passionate explanation of Fae lore.

"Why – why are you smiling like that?" I asked hesitantly

"You just look so passionate about it," he explained, a genuine smile gracing his features.

"Actually, it’s totally my uncle fault he was the one who got me into it," I confessed, a fond smile playing on my lips. "He used to read me Fae tales before bed when I was young. Now here I am, analyzing their magical properties."

"Are you close with your uncle?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, very close," I replied, then hesitated, a shadow crossing my face.

He picked up on the shift in my mood. "Everything okay?"

Taking a deep breath, I blurted out the question that had been gnawing at me since the library. "Why are you doing this, Mattheo? Is this a dare or something?"

He frowned, genuine confusion etched on his face. "Why would you say that?"

"You know," I rambled, gesturing at the empty garden around us. "Aren't you afraid?"

"Afraid of what?" He tilted his head, his dark eyes holding a hint of amusement.

My breath caught in my throat as he reached out, a playful glint in his eyes. He brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, sending shivers down my spine. "Me?" I whispered, barely a breath escaping my lips.

He smirked, amusement flickering across his face. "You look pretty cute to even scare a fly, love. Why should I be afraid of you?"

His words, laced with a hint of flirtation, left me speechless. His touch, light as a feather, lingered on my cheek, sending a jolt of electricity through me.

"You don't understand," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Look at the garden, no one is here because I'm here. They believe... they believe —"

He cut me off before I could finish my frantic explanation. "But I'm here, aren't I, love?" he said, his voice a husky murmur. My heart pounded like a drum solo, the world around us seeming to fade away.

"You shouldn't be," I managed, my voice small and breathless. "I don't understand why."

"I'm not playing games with you, I promise," he replied, his voice firm. I hesitantly nodded, closing my eyes as the weight of his words settled upon me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, a heavy sigh escaping my lips.

"Don't be," he said softly. "I understand. And you know what? I don't care what they say. And to be honest I don't even care if it was true..."

smiling , I looked up , meeting his gaze."So you're the first "

He leaned back, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "Let's just say," he began, his voice low and intriguing, "I know you weren't the reason Ronald broke his leg before the last Quidditch match."

A surprised laugh escaped my lips."And," he continued, his smile widening, "I also know that the explosion in Potions last year was entirely Harold's fault, not yours."

I burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet garden. The weight of the whispers seemed to lift with each peal, replaced by a lightness I hadn't felt in years

"You were just there, like everybody else," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "So why would you take the blame for that?"

He leaned forward, his face so close now that my laughter subsided, replaced by a nervous flutter in my chest. "You know what they say about what happened in first year," I began, voice barely above a whisper.

"It stays with you till your last," he finished the saying, his dark eyes holding mine. A grateful smile tugged at my lips.

"So when Charlie from down the street brought the rumors from our neighborhood to school, and then spread that story about me jinxing Seamus during his first Quidditch practice.. and let's just say Neville's unfortunate Gillyweed incident didn't help my case too so a that everybody seemed to believe it ," I explained, finally voicing the truth I hadn't thought anyone would ever be interested in hearing.

"That's not fair," Mattheo said, his voice firm.

"Yeah," I sighed, "but as my Nana always says, some children are born with tragedies in their hands." A bittersweet smile crossed my lips. "And by some children, she means me."

"She sounds like a cruel woman," he muttered.

I laughed, a touch brittle. "If you think my Nana is cruel, you should've met my mother then."

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, a confession I hadn't meant to share. My cheeks burned with a sudden, hot shame. Mattheo, however, didn't seem repulsed. In fact, his expression softened further.

My voice trailed off, the weight of the past suddenly overwhelming. Sharing a secret like that felt like opening a wound I'd painstakingly hidden for years. The air hung heavy with unspoken words, the setting sun casting long shadows across the quiet garden.

"I-I think I should get going," I stammered, pushing myself out of the chair, my resolve shaky at best.

A cool hand gripped my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. My breath hitched as I turned to face him , his gaze a storm of emotions swirling within its depths "Don't run away yet."

My cheeks burned even hotter, but I couldn't seem to tear my gaze away from his. "I'm not running," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't release my wrist. Instead, his grip softened, his thumb gently stroking a soothing circle against my skin. The simple touch sent a shiver down my spine, a stark contrast to the cold isolation I'd grown accustomed to.

"Then can I interest you in some Butterbeer tomorrow evening?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful charm. "Three Broomsticks, perhaps? We could continue our discussion about Fae magic, or maybe you could tell me more about your Nana and your… interesting family history."

A surprised laugh escaped my lips. The idea of spending another evening with Mattheo, outside the confines of a school project, sent a thrill through me.

A smile, genuine and unrestrained, bloomed on my face. "I'd like that," I replied, my voice a whisper against the backdrop of the settling evening.

Sleep that night was a distant dream. The events in the garden replayed in my mind on an endless loop. Mattheo's hand in mine, the warmth of his touch lingering like a phantom sensation, his unexpected concern for my story – it all sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

The morning sun filtering through my dormitory window found me wide awake, staring at the ceiling with a tangled mess of hair and a giddy smile plastered on my face.

But then came the most agonizing decision of the day – what to wear? My trunk overflowed with the usual witchy robes, all shades of black and grey. None seemed appropriate for a… date? Was it a date? My cheeks burned at the thought.

Finally, I settled on a compromise. A dark green skirt that swirled around my knees, a crisp black blouse , and my trusty black boots. It wasn't extravagant, but it felt… me.

The walk to the Three Broomsticks was a mess a disaster as I was trying to figure out the right direction . As I pushed open the creaky oak door,I tried to breathe and calm my self down, My eyes scanned the room, searching for Mattheo amidst the bustling patrons.

And then I saw him, tucked away in a corner booth, a solitary figure amidst the chatter and laughter. Relief washed over me, followed by a jolt of something warmer as our eyes met. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he gestured for me to join him.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I walked towards him, a self-conscious fluttering in my stomach. Reaching the table, I slid into the booth opposite him.

his gaze lingering a beat longer than necessary on my face. "you..," he finally said, a low whistle escaping his lips. "You look..." he trailed off, searching for the right word.

My cheeks flushed a rosy hue . "I look?"

A slow smile spread across his face. "Radiant," he finished, his voice a husky murmur.

My breath hitched. No one had ever used that word to describe me before. "Radiant?" I repeated, a nervous laugh escaping my lips.

"Absolutely," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Though, I have to say, for a second I thought you weren’t coming “

“ oh I’m so sorry I was just trying to find the way I, uh, I've never actually been to the Three Broomsticks before," I admitted, hoping to deflect from his unexpected compliment.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Never? But it's practically a Hogwarts tradition!"

. "I guess I've been more focused on the library and…avoiding crowds."

A flicker of understanding crossed his face. "Well, consider this your official initiation," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Prepare to be overwhelmed by sticky tables, questionable singing."

The waitress returned with our drinks, placing them carefully on the table.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, momentarily shattering our peaceful bubble. A boisterous group of students, their laughter echoing through the room, flooded in. My stomach lurched as I recognized them – Charlie Spinnet , flanked by his usual entourage of Crabbe and Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, her face twisted in a sneer.

Unlike the usual sneer of Pansy Parkinson, Charlie's expression was a confusing mix of anger and… was that a hint of disappointment ? He locked eyes with me, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of something more complex in his gaze before it hardened back into a scowl.

Before I could decipher the meaning of it all, Pansy spotted us. Her voice, dripping with her usual malice, sliced through the warm bubble we'd created. "Look who is there," she drawled, directing a flirtatious smile towards Mattheo. "Hello there, Riddle."

Mattheo responded with his trademark icy drawl, "Parkinson. Always a pleasure."

She gave a curt nod before returning to her group. Charlie, however, didn't follow. His gaze remained fixed on me, an unsettling intensity in his eyes. I met his stare, a knot of unease forming in my gut.

"He's jealous," Mattheo said casually, leaning back in his seat. My jaw dropped.

"Jealous? Of what?" I stammered, completely bewildered.

"He likes you ," he replied with a knowing smirk.

A bewildered laugh escaped my lips. "He likes me ? Mattheo, the boy ruined my life" I interjected, my voice laced with a sharp edge. In truth, life hadn't been a cakewalk before Hogwarts either.

Just then, a loud shattering sound erupted from our table, sending shivers down my spine. My cup of butterbeer, which Charlie had probably targeted with a stray jinx spell , lay in pieces on the floor. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the pub as everyone turned to stare

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to control the spike of panic rising in my chest. This was exactly what I'd feared. when I opened my eyes again, my gaze met Mattheo's.

Unlike me, he wasn't angry. Instead, a mischievous glint sparkled in his dark eyes. he was smirking.

"So, you said this is your first time at the Three Broomsticks, love?" he asked, a playful smile on his lips as he stood up. I felt a pit forming in my stomach, unsure of where this was headed.

"Yeah," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Then let's make it unforgettable," he declared, his smile widening. He turned towards Charlie's table, his gaze locking onto Charlie's. Pansy, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of amusement and apprehension, suddenly looked terrified.

Mattheo strolled over to their table, a confident swagger in his step. Reaching down, he casually lifted Charlie's untouched butterbeer He held it out to me with a charming smile. "Here, love," he said, not sparing Charlie a glance.

Charlie watched the exchange, his jaw clenched. "Is there anything you want to say, Spinnet?" Mattheo asked, his voice deceptively calm. Charlie just shook his head.

"Do you like toads?" Mattheo asked again a question so out of place it left us all speechless.

"S-seems like I do," Charlie stammered, his voice barely a squeak.

"Good," Mattheo said simply.

Then, in a blink, it happened. A blinding flash of light erupted from Mattheo's outstretched wand, enveloping Charlie. Before anyone could react, the speechless Charlie had vanished, replaced by a , green toad hopping comically on the table.

My scream was lost in the cacophony of shouts and gasps. Pansy let out a bloodcurdling shriek, scrambling back in her chair. Crabbe, for once, looked utterly bewildered.

Mattheo remained calm amidst the chaos, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Ignoring the stunned patrons, he reached for his pocket and placed a couple of pills on our table.

"I would take him back to the castle if I were you," he said to Pansy with a chilling smile. "Unless you prefer the company of amphibians."

Pansy was speechless, her face pale with a mixture of fear and fury. All she could manage was a strangled, "Merlin's Beard!"

Turning back to me, Mattheo offered his hand with his usual nonchalant charm. "Shall we go, love?" he asked, his voice a gentle contrast to the chaos he'd just unleashed.

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, following the familiar path towards the Black Lake. Finally, we reached the water's edge, the gentle lapping of waves against the shore providing a soothing counterpoint to the earlier frenzy. Mattheo gestured towards a large, flat rock nestled under a willow tree. "Mind joining me?" he asked, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

I nodded, still processing the events of the evening. Charlie's transformation, Pansy's terror, it was all a bit surreal. Sitting down on the rock, I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.

"So," Mattheo began, a playful lilt to his voice, "first date, and I turn your potential bully into a toad. Not exactly the charming introduction I was hoping for."

I glanced at him, surprised. "Date?" I stammered, a blush creeping up my cheeks.

His smile softened. "Well," he began, " we did ditch the project discussion for butterbeer and…, then turning someone into a toad… definitely not your typical Tuesday."

I couldn't help but laugh, My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "I… I never thought…" I stammered, completely flustered.

He reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch sent shivers down my spine. "Neither did I," he confessed, his voice surprisingly soft.

"Thank you," I said, taking a deep breath, " it's the first time anyone has ever defended me like that. Not since my Uncle."

Mattheo's smile softened. "Well," he said, his voice gentle, "consider me your knight in slightly-unconventional-Slytherin-armor then."

I laughed a blush crept up my cheek

Silence descended between us, broken only by the gentle chirping of crickets and the lapping of the lake.

"You mentioned your Uncle," Mattheo said, his voice curious. "Tell me about him."

"He's a bit of a character," I began, a smile playing on my lips. "He travels the world, studying ancient magic. He's probably in some remote location right now, chasing myths and legends he’s so brave ."

"Sounds fascinating," Mattheo commented, his voice laced with genuine interest. "But you're not close with anyone else in your family?"

The question hung in the air, and I hesitated for a moment, unsure how much to reveal. But something about the sincerity in his eyes, made me want to share a part of myself I rarely opened up about.

"Well, I'm not exactly their favorite," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "You see, my arrival wasn't exactly... welcomed."

Mattheo's brow furrowed in concern. "What do you mean?" he asked gently.

Taking a deep breath, I plunged into the murky waters of my past. "My mother ,she found out she was pregnant with me. At the same time, she learned about my late brother's… illness. He died tragically, just two days before I was born."

"She… she blamed me," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. "She believed I somehow took his place, that I was the reason he was gone."

He squeezed my hand gently, as if offering silent comfort.

"And your father?" he asked, his voice low and controlled.

"My father," I said, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "He said I stole his son's place. He never showed me any affection, always seeing a shadow of my brother instead of me."

My throat tightened, and I struggled to continue.

"But then there’s nana … well, she is a healer," I began, taking a shaky breath"She believed in a strange kind of balance. She used to say, 'A soul for a soul.'" A shiver ran down my spine as I recalled the chilling words. "'Sometimes,' she'd say, 'life takes one thing and gives another’. She just wished it had been my brother who lived."

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and serious. "That's a terrible thing to say to a child. None of that is your fault. You didn't ask to be born, and you certainly didn't cause your brother's illness."

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. The weight of their rejection, the constant reminder that I was somehow unwanted, had always been a heavy burden to carry.

Then, with a tenderness that took my breath away, he brushed his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. The simple gesture, so full of empathy and understanding, felt like a dam breaking inside me. The tears that I'd been holding back spilled over, flowing freely down my cheeks.

Mattheo didn't flinch. He didn't pull away. He simply sat there, his hand cupping my face, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that both scared and excited me.

In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "They don't deserve you , Not your mother, not your father, not sure your weird grandmother . They are blind to the incredible person you are."

His words, sincere and heartfelt, washed over me like a soothing balm.

"You are strong," he continued, his voice husky with emotion. "You are brave. You are kind. You carry the weight of their cruelty, yet you remain kind. That is a strength they will never possess."

His thumb continued to brush away my tears, his touch sending shivers down my spine.

As he spoke, the space between our faces seemed to shrink. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my lips, his gaze holding mine captive. The air crackled with a tension that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Then, before I could even think to stop him, Mattheo leaned in closer. The world around us seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his hand on my face and the anticipation building within me.

His lips met mine in a soft, tentative kiss. It was a fleeting touch, barely a whisper, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through me.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. A nervous smile tugged at the corner of his lips.," is this your first kiss? “ he murmured, his voice husky.

A slow nod confirmed his suspicion , he leaned in again, this time deepening the kiss. This kiss was different – moving with a rhythmic dance that spoke volumes of unspoken emotions.

When we finally broke apart, breathless and slightly dazed, a blush crept up my cheeks. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo echoing in the quiet night.The taste of his lips lingered on mine, a sweet and intoxicating sensation that left me craving more.

"So," he said, his voice slightly breathless. "Forget everything I said about first impressions being unforgettable. Maybe this is a better way to start things off."

The next weeks unfolded like a whirlwind. Mattheo became a constant presence in my life, his shadow seemingly falling across mine with an uncanny frequency. Whether it was bumping into him "accidentally" on my way to Herbology, finding him "coincidentally" seated across from me in the library buried in the same obscure text on Fae magic, or him "miraculously" appearing just as I was leaving the Great Hall, it was clear he was making a concerted effort to be around me.

His tactics, though slightly obvious, were nonetheless charming. He started leaving small gifts on my desk – a fascinating book on Veela lore, a single perfect white rose

No one had ever gone out of their way to make me feel special before. Mattheo was doing just that, chip by chip, breaking down the walls I'd built around myself.

His "accidental" helpfulness extended to academics as well. He started leaving me beautifully illustrated books on ancient magic, conveniently "forgotten" on my desk. During Potions, he'd mysteriously materialize behind me just as I was about to accidentally add Flobberworm mucus to my Amortentia potion (a near disaster that could have had…interesting consequences).

One afternoon, while struggling with a particularly complex Transfiguration spell, Mattheo walked in on my frustration. He didn't laugh or poke fun,Instead, he sat down beside me, his patience as impressive as his knowledge. He explained the spell with a clarity I hadn't experienced before, his hand brushing against mine as he pointed something out on my parchment.

By the end of the week, I'd not only mastered the spell but found myself drawn to Mattheo in a way I hadn't before.

Mattheo's efforts extended beyond "accidents." He started introducing me to his friends. Theo and blaise ,Then there was Enzo, Mattheo's half-brother. With his playful demeanor and infectious laugh, Enzo made me feel welcome within their circle. I found myself enjoying their company, their camaraderie a stark contrast to the loneliness I had grown accustomed to.

One evening, while studying in the common room, , Enzo, sauntered over , He slid into the seat next to me, ignoring Mattheo's glare.

"Hey there, love," Enzo said, his voice dripping with a flirtatiousness that made me feel uncomfortable. "Studying hard?"

Before I could respond, Mattheo spoke up. "Enzo, perhaps you haven't noticed, but Y/N is busy."

Enzo simply chuckled. "Relax, brother. Just trying to be friendly." He leaned in closer to me

Enzo whispered, "He can be quite possessive, don’t you agree?" I couldn’t help but laugh, which was Mattheo’s last straw.

"Back off, Enzo," the words laced with barely contained anger , Enzo smiled and with a shrug and a playful wink at me, he sauntered away.

The most surprising consequence, however, was the complete absence of whispers. The rumors that had plagued me since childhood seemed to vanish overnight. Not a single snide remark, not a single pointed finger. The silence was deafening, and yet, strangely comforting.

Was it fear of Mattheo, or something more? Either way, I didn't question my newfound peace.

The stolen moments with Mattheo became a cherished secret language.

One particularly rainy evening, after a long and tedious double Potions lesson, Mattheo found me huddled in the deserted library, desperately trying (and failing) to decipher a particularly cryptic passage in a dusty old tome.

"Having trouble with the love language of Goblins, love?" he drawled, his voice a welcome sound in the quiet of the library.

I looked up, startled, my cheeks flushing at the sight of him. "Mattheo, you scared me!"

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Just offering my expertise in the finer points of ancient languages," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

He pulled up a chair next to me, the scent of his cologne filling my senses. As he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as he attempted to translate the passage, a spark ignited between us.

Emboldened by the privacy of the deserted library and the frustration of the Gobbledegook text, I turned to face him, my lips brushing against his ear as I pointed to a particularly confusing line.

Suddenly, the air crackled with unspoken desire. Mattheo's hand cupped my cheek, his thumb gently tracing the line of my jaw. His gaze held mine, a storm brewing in its depths.

"There's another way to learn this language," he murmured, his voice husky with suppressed longing.

Before I could respond, he closed the gap between us. The kiss was different this time. It was slow, searing, filled with a raw emotion that sent shivers down my spine. It was a kiss that spoke not just of affection, but of a growing possessiveness, a silent claim on my heart.

We pulled away breathlessly, foreheads resting together. The quiet of the library thrummed with the intensity of the unspoken words hanging in the air.

"Maybe Gobbledegook isn't so bad after all," I finally whispered, a shy smile playing on my lips.

Mattheo chuckled, a deep sound that resonated within me. "Perhaps not," he agreed, his eyes lingering on mine for a beat longer than necessary.

One blustery afternoon, while seeking refuge from a sudden downpour in a hidden alcove near the greenhouses, we found ourselves alone. The air crackled with unspoken tension as we stood shoulder-to-shoulder, the rain drumming a steady rhythm on the stone walls.

He cleared his throat, his gaze flickering from my face to the storm raging outside. "This weather is something else, isn't it?" he said, his voice barely a whisper above the wind.

"Unpredictable, like magic itself," I replied, my own voice barely a murmur.

Suddenly, he turned to face me, his eyes a storm brewing within them. Before I could react, he cupped my face in his hands, his touch sending shivers down my spine. The space between us evaporated as he leaned in, his breath warm against my cheek.

"You're unpredictable too, Y/N," he murmured, his voice husky with something raw and primal. "In the best way possible."

And then, he kissed me. It was a kiss unlike any I'd ever experienced. It was fierce and passionate, filled with a yearning that mirrored my own.

I was hunched over a particularly dense text on Herbology, wrestling with the intricacies of magical plant growth, when a shadow fell across the page.

Looking up, I met Mattheo's gaze, a teasing glint in his dark eyes. "Lost in the world of Venomous Tentacula again, love?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.

I swatted playfully at his hand, a smile tugging at my lips. "These Bulbadox Bulbs are more stubborn than they look," I grumbled.

He chuckled, leaning closer. "Maybe they just need the right touch," he murmured, his breath warm on my ear.

Before I could react, he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against the offending passage. A jolt of electricity shot through me, my heart skipping a beat. He lingered for a moment too long, his touch sending goosebumps erupting across my skin.

"See?" he said, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Sometimes understanding comes from a different kind of connection."

His words were a playful jab, but the intensity of his gaze held a deeper meaning. I felt my cheeks flush, a secret smile spreading across my face.

"Maybe," I replied, unable to tear my gaze from his.

The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken emotions. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Mattheo leaned in further. His lips brushed against the sensitive skin of my neck, sending a wave of warmth cascading through me.

It was a soft, lingering exploration. He trailed a finger down my neck, sending shivers dancing across my exposed skin. My breath hitched in my throat, and I leaned back into his touch, a helpless moan escaping my lips.

He chuckled against my skin, a low, throaty sound that sent a delicious tremor through me. "You should see the way you blush, Y/N," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

My cheeks burned even hotter. This wasn't the stolen kiss under the moonlight, this was something more intimate, more raw. It was a secret shared between us, a confirmation of the growing connection that thrummed beneath the surface.

Suddenly, the library door slammed open, shattering the intimate moment. Madam Pince, the stern librarian, swept in, her beady eyes scanning the room. Mattheo and I both straightened up, a sheepish grin on his face.

"No hanky-panky in the Restricted Section, young man," Madam Pince barked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Mattheo, ever the charmer, flashed her a boyish grin. "Just helping a friend with her research, Madam Pince," he said, his voice dripping with mock innocence.

Madam Pince narrowed her eyes at us for a moment longer before muttering something about "frivolous students" and disappearing behind a towering bookshelf.

As soon as she was gone, Mattheo let out a low whistle, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Looks like we've been caught," he said, a hint of regret in his voice.

I couldn't help but laugh, the tension broken. "Maybe we should stick to the Herbology section next time," I teased, butterflies still fluttering in my stomach from his touch.

He took my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. "Maybe," he agreed, his eyes holding mine. "But who knows what secrets lurk in the Restricted Section?"

Suddenly, a voice broke through my concentration. "Y/N!"

I looked up to see Charlie Spinnet standing awkwardly in front of me, a hopeful smile plastered on his face. My stomach lurched, a flicker of unease coursing through me.

"Charlie," I stammered, unsure of what to say.

"Hey," he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Before I could answer, mattheo’s voice cut in, laced with a dangerous edge.

"Actually, she can't," Mattheo drawled, His eyes narrowed at Charlie, a dark glint flickering within them.

Charlie gulped, his hopeful smile faltering. "M-Mattheo," he stammered. "I just wanted to…"

"Whatever it is," Mattheo interrupted, his voice low and cold, "it can wait."

The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. My heart hammered against my ribs, caught between the awkwardness of Charlie's unexpected presence and the possessiveness radiating from Mattheo.

"But—" Charlie began, but Mattheo cut him off again.

"No buts, Spinnet," Mattheo said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Now, if you'll excuse us,"

He took my hand possessively, his fingers wrapping around mine with a force that left no room for argument. Before Charlie could stammer another word, Mattheo practically dragged me away.

We walked in silence for a moment, the only sound our hurried footsteps echoing through the empty corridor. My cheeks burned with a mixture of annoyance and a strange sense of… satisfaction?

"Mattheo, that was a bit harsh," I finally said, breaking the silence.

He stopped abruptly, turning to face me. His gaze was intense, a storm brewing within its depths.

"He shouldn't have bothered you," he said, his voice low and possessive.

"He was just trying to talk to me," I pointed out, a hint of defiance creeping into my voice.

"And what exactly did he want to talk about?" Mattheo challenged, his jaw clenched.

"I don't know," I admitted, shrugging my shoulders. "But I should have been allowed to find out, shouldn't I?"

Mattheo seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment, his emotions flickering across his face. Finally, he sighed, the tension slowly ebbing away.

"Look," he said, his voice softer now, "I just… don't like the idea of someone else getting close to you."

My heart skipped a beat. Was he… jealous?

"Why not?" I couldn't help but ask, a teasing smile playing on my lips.

He hesitated – a rare sight that sent a thrill through me.

"Because…" he stammered, searching for the right words. "Because maybe you mean more to me than I care to admit."

The words hung in the air. A smile bloomed on my face, wider than it had in weeks.

"Is that so, Riddle?" I said, my voice barely a whisper.

He met my gaze, his eyes filled with a newfound vulnerability. Leaning in closer, he brushed a stray strand of hair from my face with his thumb.

"Maybe it is," he murmured, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to mine.

Before we could explore that maybe any further, a loud cough echoed through the corridor. We sprang apart, startled, to see a smirking Enzo leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed.

"Oh please don’t let me stop you ," he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Mattheo scowled, his usual bravado returning. "Get lost, Enzo," he snapped.

Enzo, unfazed, simply chuckled. "Just making sure you're not neglecting your studies, brother dearest," he said, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Professor Flitwick wouldn't be happy if he caught you missing his lecture because you can’t keep your hands to yourself those days "

My cheeks burned even hotter. "We weren't… ," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Enzo chuckled. "Whatever you say, sweetheart . But don't worry, your secret's safe with me." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Though, if you're looking for a more private place next time, I know a few hidden alcoves that are perfect for… well, you get the idea."

"Thanks, Enzo," I said smiling trying to get away from this conversation as fast as possible .

"Anytime," he replied, throwing a playful two-finger salute before disappearing back down the corridor.

Mattheo and I stared at each other for a long moment, the tension thick in the air.

"I think I need to go …" I began, unsure how to proceed “ see you at ummm….”

"...Great Hall," Mattheo finished my sentence, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment. Though his earlier possessiveness had surprised me, I couldn't deny a flicker of warmth at his reluctance to see me go.

"Yeah, the Great Hall," I confirmed, unable to meet his gaze for too long. The lingering confession, the stolen moment almost-kiss, hung heavy between us.

As I sank deeper into the worn armchair, a group of giggling Gryffindor girls approached, their chatter drawing my attention.

"Y/N!" Lavender Brown announced, her voice bright with excitement. "Did you hear? There's supposed to be a total lunar eclipse tonight!"

My heart skipped a beat. A lunar eclipse? A shiver of excitement ran down my spine. For the first time in years, I hadn't even been aware of such an event. But more importantly, they were inviting me.

Parvati Patil chimed in, her dark eyes sparkling. "We're all planning to gather near the lake to watch. It's supposed to be incredible! Are you coming?"

"I…" I stammered, unsure how to respond.

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Padma, Parvati's twin, nudged me playfully. "It'll be fun! We can all gossip and make wishes under the moonlight."

A lump formed in my throat. It was a simple question, but it felt monumental. An invitation to not just witness a celestial phenomenon, but to be included, to be a part of something.

For a moment, I simply stared at them, my mind struggling to process the shift. Was this real? Did they genuinely want me to join them?

"I don't know," I mumbled, looking down at my shoes. "Maybe…"

"Don't worry, Y/N," Lavender reassured me, sensing my hesitation. "It's up to you. But if you do decide to come, we'd love to have you."

With a warm smile, they turned to leave, their excited chatter fading as they descended the stairs. I watched them go, a wave of indecisiveness washing over me.

The rest of day went by quickly as I was still thinking about the invitation then mattheo I looked around searching for him

I spotted him by the courtyard, leaning against a stone pillar, his usual air of nonchalance masking a hint of concern. As I approached, he pushed himself off the pillar and met my gaze.

"Hey," he said, his voice laced with a question as his eyes scanned my face.

"Hi, Mattheo," I replied hesitantly.

"Everything alright?" he asked, his brow furrowed. He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my eye with a gentle touch .

Taking a deep breath, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "There's a lunar eclipse tonight, did you know?"

He blinked, surprised by the abrupt change of subject. "A lunar eclipse?" he echoed.

"Yeah," I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Apparently, it's supposed to be the biggest one in years. Everyone's going down by the Black Lake to watch it."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Everyone, huh?" he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Well," I admitted, feeling my cheeks flush, "not everyone. But some people. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil invited me, and…"

I trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. Did I dare ask him to join me?

"And?" Mattheo prompted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"And," I mumbled, looking down at my shoes, "I was wondering… would you maybe want to come with me?"

The playful smile vanished, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. "With you?" he echoed.

I looked back up at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "Yeah," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "If you want to, of course."

He held my gaze for a long moment, the silence stretching between us. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, warm and genuine.

"I'd like that very much, love ," he said, his voice a low rumble.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange and pink, I made my way towards the Black Lake. The crisp autumn air buzzed with excited chatter as students from all houses gathered, blankets and snacks in tow, eager to witness the celestial spectacle.

A warm hand brushed against mine, sending a jolt through my system. Turning, I met Mattheo's gaze, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. He wore a casual smirk, but the way his hand lingered on mine spoke volumes.

he breathed, taking in the scene before him. "Didn't expect the whole school to be here."

I chuckled. "Apparently, lunar eclipses are kind of a big deal."

We weaved through the crowd, Lavender and Parvati waving to us over Theo , Enzo even Blaise was there too that was really unexpected . We settled in, surrounded by the cheerful chatter and laughter.

As the moon began to cast its silvery glow, a hush fell over the crowd. Everyone turned their eyes skyward, captivated by the gradual darkening of Earth's natural satellite. Mattheo, however, seemed more interested in me than the moon. His hand brushed mine again, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

Leaning closer, he whispered in my ear, his voice husky and warm. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

I nodded, unable to tear my gaze from his face. "It is," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

He tilted his head slightly, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to mine. Just as I thought he was about to kiss me, his voice dipped even lower.

"come with me. "

The surprise on my face must have been evident. "Where?" I stammered.

he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "Trust me, it'll be worth it."

We walked for what felt like an eternity, the only sounds the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional rustle in the bushes. The air grew thicker the deeper we ventured, and a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of my excitement. Just as I was about to voice my concerns, Mattheo came to a stop in front of a section of gnarled oak trees, their branches intertwined in an almost unnatural way.

"Here?" I asked, eyeing the dense foliage with suspicion.

He smirked, his eyes gleaming in the faint moonlight that filtered through the canopy. "Here," he confirmed, stepping forward and pushing aside a thick curtain woven from the very leaves themselves.

To my astonishment, a hidden passage unfolded behind the makeshift doorway. A narrow path, barely wide enough for two people, stretched into the darkness, illuminated faintly by glowing mushrooms that dotted the damp stone walls.

My initial apprehension warred with the budding trust I felt for Mattheo. Taking a deep breath, I gripped his hand tighter. "What is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Just trust me," he murmured, his touch surprisingly gentle.

We walked in silence, the air growing colder and the earthy scent more pronounced. The path eventually led to a sturdy wooden door hidden within the rocky wall. Mattheo pushed it open, revealing a sight that took my breath away.

It was a small, circular room, but its crowning glory was a large, arched window that took up most of one wall. Through it, the eclipse was on full display, the shadowed moon hanging in the inky black sky. But unlike the darkness of the forest, here, the view was clear and breathtaking

I breathed, my surprise echoing in the stillness of the night.

Mattheo chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. "Told you it was worth it."

"This is…" I stammered, searching for the right words. "Amazing."

Mattheo smiled, his hand moving to brush a stray curl from my face. “We found this place a while back," he explained. "It's kind of a secret."

He pulled me towards the window, his arm wrapping around my waist, stood behind me , gazing up at the celestial phenomenon unfolding above us. The darkness, once menacing, now seemed like a vast, inky canvas upon which the eclipse played out.

"It's even more breathtaking from here, isn't it?" Mattheo whispered, his voice warm against my ear. , his words laced with something more than just the wonder of the eclipse.

I could only nod, my throat suddenly dry. The beauty of the celestial spectacle was undeniable, but it paled in comparison to the feelings Mattheo was stirring within me.

A warmth bloomed in my chest, a response that surprised even me. Mattheo's presence, so close and unexpected in this hidden haven, sent a delicious shiver down my spine.

As if sensing my shift, his arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the backdrop of the crackling fire.

Then, his lips brushed against my ear again. This time, the words were different. Softer, more intimate. "You're even more breathtaking," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down my neck.

My eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze reflected in the moonlight filtering through the window. The eclipse, forgotten for a moment, seemed to cast an ethereal glow on his features, highlighting the intensity in his eyes.

Before I could form a coherent thought, his lips met mine. The kiss was tentative at first, a soft exploration that sent a wave of warmth through me. Instinctively, I reached up, my fingers finding purchase on his arm.

A contented sigh escaped his lips as he deepened the kiss, his hand finding mine and intertwining our fingers. The touch sent a jolt through me, a current of electricity that ignited a fire within.

When he finally pulled away, a breathless gasp escaped my lips. My cheeks burned, my heart hammered a wild rhythm against my ribs. A shy smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

His gaze never left mine.He leaned down again, his lips trailing a path of fire down my neck. He paused at a sensitive spot just below my ear, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

Unable to hold back a moan, I arched my neck into his touch, a silent plea for more. His hand reached down, skimming the curve of my hip before settling lightly on my lower back as I felt the wall behind us

He was going to stop I know that he was going to hold back again "Wait," I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. Looking into his eyes, I saw a storm of emotions – frustration, amusement. It was a look that made my heart skip a beat, a look that made me feel a dangerous mix of power and surrender.

"I want to " I stammered, unsure how to articulate the jumbled mess of emotions swirling within me.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice husky with suppressed desire.

Taking a deep breath, I blurted out, "I want this, Mattheo. I mean…I've never done this before, but I trust you. And I want it."

"Let's take things slow, alright?" He whispered softly in my ear and i nodded, his lips finding their way back to my neck, tracing over the mark he had just left behind.

"Mattheo," I moaned when he nipped at the same spot again, his teeth sharp and his lips unyielding.

"God my name sounds like heaven from your lips" he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

"Have you ever touched yourself, love?" His question caught me off guard, my breath catching in my throat as I shook my head. I had wanted to try but never mustered the courage.

"It's okay, my love," he reassured, his hands sliding under my top, caressing my skin with a tender touch that sent shivers down my spine.Then he gently pushed me up, settling me on the nearest table. "I'll take care of you."

Pressing more kisses to my neck, his hands moved to my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he lifted my skirt slightly. "Is this alright?" he asked, his breath hot against my neck.I smiled at him and nodded again

“I’m going to touch you now, Just tell me when you want to stop, and I promise I’ll end it,” said with determination, his fingers brushing my cheek i nodded leaned forward to kiss him instead of just responding.

He did as he told , his fingers sliding into my pants proceeded slowly, finding my most sensitive spot, eliciting pleasurable sensations that made me arch my back and cling to him.

slowly rubbing circles around it. He used light pressure, but it felt amazing. His gaze intently watched my response, figuring out what i like.

He picked up the pace and pressure, sending pleasurable shocks through my body. my back arched as the ache between my legs increased.

“God you’re so wet for me." he whispered, his voice filled with awe and desire. "Does it feel good?"

“ Yes , it feels so good.” I moaned softly, my voice barely audible as waves of pleasure washed over me.

"Can I?" he asked, seeking my consent.

"Yes, please," I begged, my desperation evident in my voice.

"It might feel strange at first, but I promise it will get better quickly," he reassured, and I nodded in agreement. With my consent, his finger slid between my folds, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. My hands found their way to his shoulders as I rested my head against them.

"Breathe, my love," he whispered, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of pleasure. I obeyed, inhaling deeply as a symphony of moans escaped my mouth, each one a testament to the pleasure coursing through my body.

"Mattheo," I moaned, his name a mantra on my lips.

"Yes, love. Talk to me," he encouraged, his movements slowing to allow me to catch my breath.

"There's something..." I tried to say, but pleasure engulfed me, leaving me speechless.

His lips found mine, his kisses distracting me from my thoughts as I succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure he offered.

"Just let go for me," he whispered against my lips, his breath igniting a fire within me that sent me spiraling into bliss.

His thumb applied pressure to my clit, sending electrifying waves of pleasure through my body. I gripped his shoulder tightly as he carefully added another finger, causing me to close my eyes in ecstasy.

"Don't close your eyes, love. Look at me," he urged, his voice filled with desire and a hint of command. I obeyed, locking eyes with him as his fingers found that specific spot inside me, unleashing a sensation I had never experienced before. It was so intense that I couldn't contain my scream of pleasure, feeling like I was soaring among the clouds.

He continued to target that spot, his gaze fixed on me as if he could read my every reaction. With a satisfied smile, he spoke soft words in my ear , reveling in my response.

His touch remained gentle yet firm, guiding me through the waves of pleasure until I reached the pinnacle, my body trembling in his embrace as I experienced a euphoric release unlike anything before.

"It's alright, I'm here," he murmured, his words a soothing balm as I surrendered to the pleasure that consumed me.

As I floated back to reality, I found myself in his arms, his gaze filled with tenderness and adoration. He leaned in, capturing my lips in a deep, passionate kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken emotions.

"Maybe you mean more to me than I care to admit too , riddle," I repeated his earlier words. But what I truly wanted to express was that, ,I think I'm in love with you, Mattheo Riddle.’

From that night onward, everything shifted, and my life transformed into a fairy tale. The intensity of my feelings for him grew so profound that a day without seeing Mattheo felt like an eternity, leaving me yearning for his presence. He cherished me as if I were the most precious gem in his life, and to say that I loved him would be an understatement; my emotions ran deeper than mere words could express.

Despite our unspoken declarations of love, we refrained from exploring further sexual intimacy after that intense encounter. However, the desire and longing between us only grew stronger, leaving me yearning for more moments of intimacy with him. Each kiss, touch, and gaze across the room spoke volumes of the love we shared, even if the three words were never verbalized.

The end-of-year party hosted by Slytherin was a legendary affair, whispered about in hushed tones by those who had attended in previous years. Despite hearing countless tales about the extravagant festivities, I had never been tempted to go, for me, it had always been an off-limits fantasy , one I didn't dare to try and make true.

As the "jinx girl", stepping foot into such a renowned event felt like a risky move. The thought of facing judgment, scrutiny, and potentially being ostracized by my peers held me back from even considering attending.

However, in those few months everything changed. I found myself shedding my inhibitions and fears, stepping out of my comfort zone and embracing new experiences. The bonds I formed with other Slytherins grew stronger, and I even made friends outside of Mattheo's circle, feeling more at ease and confident in social settings.

The Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was as legendary as the end-of-year party itself. This year, however, a shared misfortune had united the two houses in a grudging camaraderie. Professor Flitwick, bless his innocent heart, had stumbled upon Blaise Zabini and a very surprised Gryffindor tangled together in a rather compromising position in a dusty basement corridor. Let's just say, both houses lost a significant number of points, paving the way for Ravenclaw to snatch the coveted House Cup in a landslide victory.

So, as the day of the party approached, a thrill of anticipation danced in my stomach.

"Mattheo," I said, catching his attention as I approached him and his friends. He gently guided me to sit next to him, holding my hands with a tender touch

“ yes love ? “

"Are we… are we going to the party tonight?" I asked, trying to gauge his reaction.

He looked up, surprise flickering across his face. "The party?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "You… you want to go?"

I felt a flicker of self-consciousness, but I held his gaze. "Yeah," I admitted.

“Honestly, Y/N," he said, "it's a bit… childish."

"Childish?" I repeated, surprised. "But everyone says it's a lot of fun!"

Enzo, chimed in with a shrug. "He has a point. It's mostly just first years causing mayhem."

There it was , that hesitation. Mattheo rarely said no to anything I asked.

He studied me for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. He glanced at Enzo, exchanging a silent communication that left me puzzled.I don’t really understand I know they used to go every year .

He looked at me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine. Then, a slow smile spread across his face.

"Alright then love ," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "If you want to, then we'll go."

The Slytherin common room was a whirlwind of emerald and silver. Green streamers snaked across the ceiling, enchanted banners proclaimed Slytherin victory in various forgotten contests, and a cacophony of music and laughter filled the air. My heart pounded with excitement, a delightful mix of anticipation and nerves.

The atmosphere was vibrant, filled with laughter and music. Everyone seemed genuinely happy to have me there, chatting and mingling as if I had been a regular attendee for years.

However, what struck me as odd was how Mattheo and Enzo never left my side. It was as if they were guarding me, anticipating something that I wasn't aware of. Despite their usual easygoing demeanor, there was a sense of alertness in their actions that left me curious and slightly uneasy.

As the night progressed, I couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched, not in a malicious way, but more like a protective gaze. Mattheo and Enzo's constant presence by my side felt both comforting and unsettling at the same time.

I tried to brush off my unease and enjoy the party, engaging in conversations and joining in on the festivities. However, the nagging feeling that something was amiss lingered in the back of my mind.

It wasn't until later in the evening, when Mattheo and Enzo exchanged a meaningful glance, that I realized there was more to their protective behavior than met the eye.

Chaos erupted in the common room as Charlie Spinnet, stormed towards Mattheo. "Get her out of here now ," he growled, jabbing a finger in my direction. "Or I'll do it myself."

Before Mattheo could respond, the room fell silent. A Slytherin seventh-year, Adrian Pucey, stood on a nearby table, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hold on there, Spinnet ," he boomed, his voice cutting through the tension. "This year, we're doing something a little different… a play!"

A cheer erupted from the Slytherins, many of them eager for a change from the usual prank wars. Mattheo , however, remained unconvinced. He narrowed his eyes at Adrian, suspicion etched on his face.

As the play began, I couldn't help but notice the similarities between my name and the name of the girl portrayed in the story. It didn't take long for me to realize that the play was about a jinxing girl, and it described in vivid detail everything I had confided in Mattheo about my family and my troubled past at the lake that night.

Panic clawed at my throat. I stole a glance at Mattheo, but his face was a mask. He reached out a hand towards me, but I flinched back instinctively .

The room fell silent, every eye glued to me and the unfolding drama.

Onstage, the actress portraying me continued, her voice dripping with drama. "…driven by ambition, she stole her brother's place, but a terrible curse followed. Wherever she goes, misfortune befalls those around her. She's the jinx girl, a harbinger of bad luck!"

A collective gasp rippled through the room. Whispers erupted like flames, spreading fear and suspicion. I felt them scorching my skin, their judgment a suffocating weight on my chest.

Suddenly, a new scene unfolded on stage. A group of actors, portraying Hogwarts students, stood center stage. "Here's the dare," boomed one, a mock sense of bravery in his voice. "The boy who approaches the jinx girl and brings her to the party… wins!"

Suddenly, a commotion arose from the back of the room. Enzo and Theodore Nott , their faces grim, pushed their way through the crowd towards the makeshift stage. "Stop this!" Enzo said, his voice laced with fury. "This is out of line, Pucey!"

The actors scrambled off the stage, bewildered and slightly scared. The common room dissolved into chaos. Accusatory whispers turned into heated arguments. Pity and fear flickered in averted gazes. I even overheard someone mutter, "Did she really kill her brother?"

The roar of the party faded behind me as I sprinted down the Slytherin common room's hidden corridor, tears stinging my eyes despite my desperate efforts to hold them back. Mattheo's voice calling after me, pleading, only fueled my desperate need to escape.

"Y/N, please!" he shouted, but I ignored him, my feet pounding a relentless rhythm against the cold stone floor.

"Y/N!" he called again, his voice closer this time. Panic surged through me, lending me fresh bursts of energy.

Just as I reached the portrait leading out to the dungeons, a strong hand clamped onto my arm. I spun around, ready to lash out, but it was him – Mattheo, his face etched with a desperate worry I'd never seen before.

He tried to reach for my hand, but I recoiled violently. "Don't you dare touch me!" I screamed, my voice raw with hurt and betrayal.

He flinched, his hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. "Y/N, love, just hear me out," he pleaded.

"Love?" I spat the word back at him, incredulous. "Don't call me that." The weight of everything that had just happened crashed down on me. The staged play, the public humiliation, the sickening realization that it had all been a dare.

"It's not what it seems like," he stammered, trying to explain. "I—"

"You what?" I interrupted, my voice rising. "It was all a lie, wasn't it? "

"No, no, I swear," he said urgently. "Everything that happened between us was real. My feelings for you…" His voice trailed off, his eyes pleading for me to understand.

But the damage was done. The carefully constructed trust – it had all crumbled to dust in the face of this cruel betrayal.

"Don't," I choked out, tears finally spilling down my cheeks. "Don't lie to me anymore."

A sob escaped my lips, and despite the anger burning within me, a part of me ached for the connection I thought we shared.

"Just give me a chance to explain," he pleaded, but I shook my head, unable to bear the sight of him anymore.

The truth, however distorted, was clear. "Wouldn't you deny it was a dare?" I challenged him, a flicker of defiance sparking in my tear-filled eyes.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. For the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine pain cross Mattheo's usually guarded features.

"No," he finally admitted, and I felt a wave of numbness wash over me.

As I turned to walk away, he continued, "It was at first, but I swear that from that night at the Broomsticks, everything was real. I even forgot about that stupid dare. Everything that happened between us was real, you know that."

I scoffed, wiping angrily at my tears. "I don't know anything anymore," I said.

"Foolish me. That's why you didn't want Charlie to talk to me that day, wasn't it? Because he was going to expose you?"

""No, Y/N, I just didn't want you to get hurt __“

"You what?" I cut him off again, my voice trembling with fury. "How generous of you," I said sarcastically. "But look, you win now, Riddle. Won't you go celebrate? It was their dare,"

"I don't care about anyone else but you," he said fiercely.

I stared at him, incredulous. "Then why does it feel like you care about everything else more than me right now?"

He took a hesitant step forward, but I didn't back away this time. I met his gaze head-on, my heart a tangled mess of emotions.

"I can't lose you," he whispered, his voice filled with desperation.

"You already have," I said, the words like shards of glass in my mouth. I wanted to hurt him, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain I was experiencing.

"I ___ i love you," he confessed, the words hanging heavy in the air.

Love. The very word felt like a mockery.

I looked him straight in the eye, my voice surprisingly calm despite the storm raging within me. "And I hate you, Mattheo Riddle," I said, each word laced with the bitter taste of betrayal.

With that final declaration, I turned away, leaving him standing alone in the darkened corridor, the portrait swinging shut behind me.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle angst

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anika-ann · 1 year ago

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Sweet and Ours, Tonight - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, domestic... filth

Pairing: Steve Rogers x wife!reader Word Count: 5,8k

Summary: You and Steve had a long, long week.

You both deserve a reward. Perhaps an evening with undivided attention to each other... and maybe to end the endless week with a bang.

The thing is, Steve has no idea about what’s awaiting him at home. Yet, you have a feeling he will like it - and he'll be happy to show you.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, praise kink, slight authority kink, soft dom/sub elements (with a tad dominant Steve), a sprinkle of possessiveness, potential blasphemy, lingerie kink, marriage kink (if that's a thing), mention of (tender) hair pulling, mention of semi-public sex if you squint really hard, language, FLOOF

A/N: At the time of Cum Together: Community Revival Extravaganza hosted by @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420, there were two potential stories on my mind – the soulmate AU one, which I ended up writing, and this one, which fulfils multiple prompts from the list (see the end). The extravaganza is long over – but hopefully, you’ll enjoy 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @saradika; enjoy, but it's smut y'all - read at your own risk and responsibility

Setting the half-full glass of water on the counter, you smiled to yourself as you heard the keys rattle in the lock. The sound meant one of your favourite things in the world: Steve was home.

‘Home’ was your spacious shared apartment near the new upstate Avengers facility, one you and Steve had chosen not because the large complex hadn’t included living quarters, but because you had wanted a place that was truly your own.

On days like this, you were more grateful for that decision than ever. Here, the work and the weight you carried from it could be left at the doorstep, and you could enter a truly safe space, shielded by your love from the outside world. World which could be loud, overwhelming, and at times, evil.

Today, it meant that Steve would try to leave behind the exhaustion and frustration of a week-long conference of the United Nations and adjoined organisations. You, you had left behind the very same sentiments lacing the endless week of extra shifts. Sometimes it felt like the work was never done; be it patching up international relations or patching up the dumbass of the day. Be it dealing with diplomats who barely even listened, let alone acted on their empty promises; or be it repairing damage to human body made by another supposedly human being, battling to keep alive agents who not so rarely held zero regard for their own safety in the process of saving the very world for whose safety Steve was advocating in DC. You wondered where the agents could have possibly got the inspiration for their reckless behaviour – but that was not the kind of thoughts you wanted to entertain tonight, especially since you knew the answer all too well.

Tonight, you wanted to cherish your husband’s company.

You had missed Steve; even when swamped with work, you both took care to stay in contact, confiding one another on as much of your longing for each other’s company as on feeling drained.

You were glad for having had enough wits to plan ahead and be able to come home before him.

It had been no surprise to you that Steve had called you that he was about to arrive home as scheduled, but crankier than planned despite finally leaving the self-contained self-important jerks behind. The relief in his voice had been palpable; and his voice had only grown warmer when he learned you were to already wait for him at home. Your lips had twitched at the guttural sigh he released upon learning, whispering he was really happy to hear that; as were you to hear that he was coming home in one piece, which was unfortunately not a rule.

He loved you, he had said too. So damn much.

You had told him the same, wondering if that was what would leave his lips when he’d see you. Especially since he had no idea what coming his way, should he want it.

The lock barely clicked open and you were already on your way. A rapid carpet-muted staccato of your heels welcomed Steve as he entered, his curiosity clearly piqued in an instant.

He had but a second to take in your appearance – the bloody red pumps, the peek of nude nylons, the beige trench coat reaching just above your knees, your simple but effective hairdo and make-up, dominated by berry-red lipstick – or get his suitcase through the doors and close them. Before he could say as much as hi, you were already cupping his face and kissing him softly, for once not having to stand on your tiptoes too high.

There was a significant part of you which was dangerously close to jumping on him with enough force to slam him against the door and pour all your enthusiasm at seeing him into the kiss. It had taken all your willpower not to do so since your body throbbed with the need – but you didn’t want him to feel ambushed, unsure about his mood. So you revelled in the precious opportunity to touch him, in the feel of the figurative and literal warmth he was radiating, in the taste of his lips you had missed so viscerally; and with the minute mental capacity left, you tried your best to read his reaction.

It would be a shame for your plan and efforts to go to waste; but the last thing you’d want was to push thoroughly exhausted Steve who’d just want some peace into something he’d… be willing but not excited to do.

Your worries were fruitless, however. Steve’s hands came to life immediately, one reaching for your waist, the other to cradle your cheek. His lips responded in kind, even as his smile tasted of surprise. The tension you had got a brief glimpse of melted away from his shoulders, fingertips caressing your skin, nose gently nudging yours as your lips parted, forehead to forehead.

“Hi,” you breathed out contentedly, feeling the tension leaving you as well, warmth spreading through every vein and nerve in your body at Steve’s gentle chuckle instead.

“Hi, love.”

“Welcome home.”

His smile was as nothing short of blinding when he retreated just a bit to look at you and grace you with a shining gaze roaming your face, as if taking in every feature, every line, every arch, every last eyelash for the first time. Your heart thump-thumped in your chest happily as your hands slid to his neck, unable to tear your gaze away from the beautiful image he made.

A man with love.

Your man.

Your husband.

Your extremely handsome husband; every suit, be it a formal wear or his tactical one, accentuated his wide shoulders and sharply cut jaw you couldn’t but run your fingertips over, marvelling at the pure delight in his face.

“I feel very much welcomed, sweetheart,” he assured you, squeezing your waist. Despite being clearly exhausted, his smile was radiant; until it fell a fraction. “Are you going out?”

Your heart hummed with a soft ache; it was impossible to miss his effort not to look disappointed as not to make you feel guilty for having a social life outside your marriage, even if rather inconveniently timed. Bless his good, good heart.

You shook your head with your smile lingering, barely hiding a smirk. “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Rogers.”

His expression perked up again, his arm sneaking further around your waist as he observed you with playful curiosity. “Oh? Are we going out? Did you plan something, Mrs. Rogers?”

To highlight his indulgence in calling you that – and god knew hearing him say that still sent butterflies to your stomach even after months of that being a reality – his hand moved from your cheek to take you left hand, fingers interlacing; your wedding bands made a soft clinking noise as they met, Steve’s gaze flickering to their combined light with such undiluted joy in that little action you couldn’t but brush your lips over his again, something deep inside you trembling and preening at once.

Your husband.

“Would it be a bad thing? If I did plan something?” you asked, part coy, part genuine. “It’s okay if you’re not in mood for that.”

Steve only smiled wider, dropping a kiss to your knuckles and then your lips, before pulling back just a fraction. He observed you silently and almost absently, yet seemingly with mission-level intent.

The silence stretched as you awaited his answer, encouraging him – and yourself, because the silence was growing louder with every beat of your heart – with a suddenly unsure smile.

“Steve? Love?”

He blinked, shaking his head lightly. Before you could feel your stomach drop in disappointment at this being his answer, he spoke up.

“Sorry, you… you look beautiful. Got a little distracted here.”

Your belly did a funny flip-flop that had no right to be so deep within; but this gorgeous man had no right to be so perfect either. And you loved him for it.

“I don’t mind going out or staying,” he said softly. “I’m honestly just glad to be home. With you. That’s my favourite thing in the world. Being with you… here, in the home we made together.”

Tremble. Something within you trembled and it was almost comical how those words shook and soothed your soul, a sharp contrast to how very non-poetic your intention to seduce his body was. But that was how you seduced each other the first time and did so over and over again; body, mind and soul alike, tipping the scales in favour of one and then the other and back as the situation allowed.

It was your turn to blink now, fighting the burn of tears in your eyes, threatening to spill at the profound sincerity in Steve’s voice and the adoration in his beautiful blues; they turned all the prettier as a spark of mischief lit them up and he stepped back, releasing you from his warm embrace.

“But, since you got all dolled-up and clearly made plans, it would be a waste. Want to tell me what my orders are, ma’am?”

Excitement lighting up your nerves anew, you stepped back with a hum.

“Well… actually, I made plans to stay in…” Steve’s eyebrow arched a bit, but something beautifully dark flashed in his eyes – a mute understanding that whatever you had planned, you had dolled up for him. For him and him only. “And since you said those people there were all talk, no listening, no action… I thought that maybe you’d a like a change of scenery.”

As you took another step back further into the apartment, Steve discarded his shoes in a lightning speed, his gaze never leaving your face, hanging on your lips for every syllable.

You bit back a satisfied smile, something hot stirring in your belly. “That maybe, you’d like someone who can listen very well, and is willing to… act? Would you like to tell me my orders, Captain?”

His gaze went to roam – from the top to bottom, drinking in your attire, a perfect trap you had set for both of you to tangle in. The tall red heels. The coat for him to untie. The nylons – which Steve at this point must have understood were, in fact, thigh-highs, perhaps strapped to a garter belt. The hair. That lipstick. That damn lipstick that turned his eyes a shade darker and hungrier, his voice dropping two octaves.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?”

You raised a challenging brow, a coy smile adorning your red red lips as you toyed with the hem of your coat; Steve knew you well-enough by now to know that you wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble if you hadn’t wanted that. You wanted.

You wanted him, with every fibre of your being, lit alive and reborn divine under his searing hot gaze. You longed to be his, however he pleased. To please him however you could.

At last, he got the message. He seemed to very much revel in that message, in fact.

“Let’s go to the bedroom then.”

He led you by the hand, even though you both knew the way and had walked it many times before, even when blinded by desire, with lips never parting, frantic stumbles and wandering impatient hands. Tonight, there was no rush; steps deliberately slow, you followed his lead, standing still by the doorway when he let go of your hand in favour of stripping his suit jacket as soon as you entered.

Your eyes followed his every move, indulging in the sight of his muscles rippling under the smooth fabric of his white shirt; indulging in the shudder of realization running down his body, coming after his brief confusion of finding you obediently exactly where he had left you.

You barely bit back a smirk at the way his breath hitched.

“Alrighte,” he breathed out as he walked to the foot of the bed, turning his back to it to look at you.

You had never had a man to look at you like that before; his gaze was like the most delicious shockwave igniting every cell in your body with desire and pride.

His. You were your own woman, but goddamn, were you his.

“Alright. Come here, sweetheart.”

You did. Hooked on his burning gaze as he seemed hypnotized by your every step, by every inch erased between you, you walked to him, only stopping when he settled his wide palm over your hip, his other hand soon joining on the other side.

For a moment, he simply observed you, your parted lips, your eyes blown wide, just as aroused by the dynamics as he was. Then, a warm yet mischievous smile lifted the corners of his lips, hands squeezing your hips.

You weren’t sure what you had expected – a kiss, a toss on the bed, his hands ripping the fabric, all things you had encountered and more – but of all options, he chose the one your mind had not offered at the moment. His hands slid lower, inch by inch as he kneeled in front of you, sitting back on his heels, the heat of his skin seeping into yours the second his palms slipped past the edge of the fabric of your coat.

Sensual. Steve was most definitely in mood for sensual tonight and you were not going to complain if for nothing else than for having trouble breathing as his fingertips traced the thin ankle strap of your shoe, warm fingers delicately circling your ankle, cupping your calf, sneaking past your knee to spread over the back of your thigh, inching your legs apart so he could move the coat out of the way and press a lingering kiss to your where the lace of your thigh-high met bare skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched in your throat when his free hand reached for the loose knot on your coat, dextrous fingers undoing it with ease and tugging, all while his lips brushed over your sensitive skin higher and higher towards the apex of your thigh.

“Take it off, love,” he whispered into your heat, tugging at the hem of your coat, the index finger of his other hand slipping under the strap of your garter belt, nosing along your inner thigh and inhaling deeply.

A shudder ran down your spine at the huskiness of his voice, leaving you with no space to even consider embarrassment at your husband’s need to drown himself in the scent of your arousal; you busied yourself with stripping the coat in five seconds flat and dropping it on the floor, rewarded by his warm breathy chuckle.

“So good for me…” He looked up from his spot, caressing along the line of your panties, feasting his eyes on the delicate lace hugging your breasts, at the elaborate but feather-light pattern on your garter belt, at the barely-there panties covering your sex. The smoulder in his pupils as his gaze zeroed on his price was almost too much to bear. Whether you were shy or impatient, you couldn’t tell, but your chest was heaving with every breath, your back arching just a bit at the praise that stroked something deep within you. “My beautiful, irresistible wife…”

“Steve-“

He returned his attention to your thigh, sucking a lovebite just above the hem of your stocking, soothing the offended spot with a butterfly-soft kiss you couldn’t help but sigh his name at again.

He hooked his fingers at the front straps of your garter, urging you forward, closer, as he sat on the floor, back leaning against the foot of the bed, tilting his head back and resting in on the mattress; a content smile played on his lips as if it was the most comfortable spot in the apartment, his hands roaming appreciatively. Over the curve of your hip. Following the pattern of the lace. Along the straps, along the hem. But never, never where your need for him burned, soaking the excuse of underwear over your sex.

“Didn’t have such pretty view in D.C.,” he mused, gaze trailing over the thin fabric already shining with your arousal, trailing all over your body to your face, to your red lips painted just as you knew he loved them. “Never ceases to amaze me. Like a piece of art. So damn perfect… mine to touch.”

You didn’t have timefor body insecurities with Steve. Any imperfection you saw, it didn’t bother him; he’d kiss you everywhere, claiming and loving every piece of your body and soul and mind, as he hadn’t forgotten to mention when he proposed; and then followed up with proving the first part of his claim with intense but the softest damn loving.

The memory of him getting on one knee with a glimmer of tears in his eyes quickly dispersed when his maddeningly delicate touch finally brushed over your slit, your hips instinctively bucking forward; Steve instantly used the opportunity to spread his palms under your bottom, urging you closer and closer until the front of your thighs met the mattress, effectively caging him in, mouth not more than an inch from your mound. He smiled up at you wickedly, forefinger drawing nonsensical patterns over your clothed sex.

“Steve, love-“

You lost your voice when he guided your knee to prop on the mattress next to his head, a violent tug of desire gripping at your core at the implication of what he wanted – stirring as much want as insecurity and hesitance.

You voice was shaky as your gaze found his, the question on your lips so quiet he might miss it hadn’t it been for his enhanced hearing.

“Steve, are you… sure?”

One glance into his eyes told you was more than that.

And the mere thought of him doing what he was leading you towards felt like molten lava poured into your veins, nothing but smouldering heat left behind.

You had never done that. Not with him, not with anyone else.

It was true that Steve could get rather intense when it came to love making – or shameless fucking – but he always drew significant amount of his pleasure from your own. Your husband was but a giver, even as he always coaxed you to give it to him. He had sure been far from shy or prudish in the privacy of your quarters – or in certain cases no one must ever learn about, elsewhere – and he enjoyed all kinds of things, his mouth on you among them. You had explored together, dived into depths of pleasure you hadn’t thought were possible. But you hadn’t---not like this.

Not with you basically on top of his goddamn face.

“Are you?” he asked, pressing a brief kiss to the juncture of your thighs, looking at you from under his eyelashes with a challenge and a plea.

In your exploration, he had pushed your limits; but never you. He’d never do anything that seemed even tad too uncomfortable for you. As of consequence, there was virtually nothing you wouldn’t let him do, because you trusted him to stop at the first sign of your protest.

Okay. Okay. The utter wanton in his eyes shining through the sincerity was melting your brain. No choice to make.

You nodded, rewarded by a satisfied smirk that would have earned anyone else a smack to their face. But with Steve, there was something dangerously alluring about that instead; that smirk meant paradise aligning with hell awaiting you, whispered of you soon begging him – to stop or to continue, you’d never quite know yourself.

“Well then, remember you promised to listen… and do.”

Little shit, was as far as you got in your thoughts.

Because then he was wrapping a firm arm around your leg on the bed and pushing your panties aside and after a few teasingly careful licks, he began his feast like a starved man seated at the royal table.

Your hands found purchase on his hair and the bed, knees nearly buckling under the assault of pleasure, burning through your body like a wildfire. The way his wicked tongue played with you had you gasping his name in need bordering on desperation, chest tight as you were forgetting to breathe, core clenching so soon you couldn’t quite believe it as the tidal wave of bliss washed over you, hips rocking in aftershocks, knees eventually giving out.

It was only for a split second that you worried you might smother Steve or splatter ungracefully on the floor; because Steve had you. He always had you. His supersoldier part undeniable, he caught you, manipulating your body so he could cradle you protectively as you came from your high and literal height, holding you against his chest as you straddled him with seemingly boneless legs.

You were hyperaware of every bit of praise spilling from your lips, whispered to your skin warmly, but you couldn’t form words.

Not until his lips found yours, meeting in a soft kiss spiced with the tang of your essence, the most intimate kiss between lovers. He pushed the hair from your face tenderly, eyes both hungry and soft as if you weren’t soaking his dress pants where your core met his evident arousal and you weren’t both panting as if you had just run a marathon. His hand caressed up and down your spine, over and over, as if to ground you in reality.

A peck to your cheek. To your mouth. Your lips coming back to life at least, pressing to his jaw, to his smile.

“Could stay like this forever,” he whispered, nose trailing along your cheek, leaving a kiss under your ear, drawing a breathless chuckle from you. “With you in my arms, your taste on my lips, head swimming from your sweet perfume and everything that’s you… my wonderful wife… “

Blinking owlishly, you met his gaze as he cradled your cheek, hair a beautiful messy hallo from where you had tried to hold on when he was devouring you. His lips found yours again, a gentle murmur.

“You’re my everything, you know that?”

You did. By god you did. It was impossible not to, even as that fact was but a pure stroke of a miracle. He was your everything too. Your alfa and your omega. Your weakness and your strength. Your love, unshakable foundation even on days when everything including his own hands did shake. Your home, whenever you’d go.

You ran your fingers through his golden locks, expression nothing short of tender, touch nothing short of reverent – as one should be when in face of a miracle.

“And you’re my home,” you whispered back.

Seconds ticked by in soft silence, pleasure still tingling all over your body, but it was the overwhelming love and need in Steve’s gaze that consumed you completely.

You didn’t dare to blink. You didn’t dare to breathe. You simply watched him living through a moment as precious to him as he was to you, electric tension rising and almost audibly crackling in the air.

And then he was gripping your nape, mouth claiming and devouring, one hand sliding under your bottom to lift you in a display of strength that never failed to make you dizzy and blinded you with desire unmatched despite having just come down from your high. You returned his kiss with the same fervour, hands grasping at his shirt, frantically searching for buttons to undo and then simply tugging hard until the thread gave out and sent the buttons flying, a nip of teeth to your lips accompanied with Steve’s dark chuckle like the sweetest song of victory.

He sat down at the bed with you still straddling him, helping you strip the shirt without your lips ever parting, his hands leaving you but for the fraction of second necessary to get rid of the fabric in your way and then you were both sighing in relief when your palms met the burning skin of his sculptured chest, his wide shoulders, his clenching abs.

“Need you,” you confessed as soon as you got to breathe in, back at his lips the very next second, Steve’s large palm kneading your bottom, hips thrusting into yours and eliciting a wanton moan from you both. “And I want you in my mouth-“

A delicious growl rumbled in is chest, fingers tangled in your hair pulling just a little, tipping your head back to give him access to leave a string of kisses down the column of your throat, the deliberately slow bucks of his hips into yours never ceasing.

“You’re a wicked little thing.”

You chuckled, a cheeky remark on your painfully free lips, the delightful friction between your bodies not nearly enough to sooth your thirst.

“You do say I’m wicked smart. Why this time?”

The nip of teeth on your collarbone and the way his fingers dug into your flesh had you barely stifle a gasp, but his answer was a reward for a work well-done.

“Goddamn you, woman, you know what you do to me, especially that lipstick-”

“I know what it does to you to see it smeared in certain places,” you breathed out, silenced by a bruising kiss to your lips and a light sting on the back of your thigh as Steve pulled at one of the strings of your garter and let it snap against your skin. Your wandering hands reached for his belt, almost tasting the salty tang of him already as you’d get on your knees for him.

“Wicked,” he grunted against your mouth, lifting his hips – with you still on top – to help you strip his pants, “I thought I was giving the orders tonight.”

“Oh you do, Captain,” you assured him, revelling a little too much at the twitch against your core as you blatantly used his title against him. “Just informing you I’m willing.”

“Driving me crazy. Want you to want me just as much, to need me-“

“I do. Need to taste you-”

“Jesus Christ-“ he choked out, releasing you so you could press one last thorough kiss to his mouth and then slide down to your knees, grateful for the soft carpet.

Ridding Steve of the last piece of clothing, you took great care to maintain eye-contact as you stroked him, feather-light, and licked at the tip. The breathy sound resembling your name that left his lips when you wrapped your lips around the head sent a jolt of heat down your spine, hot satisfaction pooling in your belly and making your heart thunder in your chest.

Nothing had ever made you feel more powerful and treasured than Steve looking at you with half-lidded eyes, groaning as you took him deeper and bobbed your head, closing your lips tight around him as you pulled back to smear as much of the sinful red colour down his cock, his hands gripping the sheets so hard the fabric might tear.

God, he was gorgeous; a wrecked angel-like figure made for worship and sin, they only deity you needed, sculpted to divine perfection.

His fingers tangled gently at your hair, only to twitch repeatedly as he was holding back the strength he wanted to use keep you right there, always making you want to swallow around him harder to make him lose that control; the curses, the deliciously prolonged fuuuck tasting like a victory, the fuck-- sweetheart, you feel like heaven a blessing that stirred pure lust deep within your core.

He was done for almost too soon; a little work, a hint of a sinful smile in the corner of your lips as you watched him lose layer after layer of control to reveal the primal drive that made him just as human as any. Once your hands joining your efforts, he was spilling down your throat, eyes squeezed shut in an image of absolute heavenly ruin.

You waited for him to flutter his eyes open; not having even gone soft in your mouth, you dragged your lips down his length to leave the last red and glossy mark, the string of blasphemy leaving his mouth telling you he didn’t give a damn thing about your tear-smeared mascara but cared a whole lot about the prettily ruined lipstick. When you licked your lips as if he had just given you your favourite treat, he practically dragged you back to his lap, seemingly torn between proposing all over again and lamenting you were going to be his death.

Yet, he kissed you tenderly like a precious porcelain doll and reached for the wet wipe in the nightstand drawer to gently clean the black smears down your cheek. The smudged lipstick he indulgently wiped with his thumb before his mouth slanted over yours again, the thrumming passion between you growing louder again; you were dripping down your thighs from the appreciative gaze and the taste of him alone and Steve was rarely ever sated with climaxing just once. Especially after a week apart.

With his most acute hunger sated, however, he took time to admire the view again, even with your shoes finally discarded, indulging in the delicate lace instead, in the warmth of your body, in your perfume and the scent of your skin. His voice dropped low in volume, intimate whispers of how he wanted to see you take him deep and make you his, fingers gently stretching you to accommodate his impressive size before he led you to sink down on his length at last, filling you up so deliciously and completely.

With bodies stilled, the time seemed to slow down too. Eyes blown wide and dark, but with a sweet curl to your lips as you tasted each other over and over again, you both revelled in the sensation of being connected; brushes of fingertips, kisses to your lips, to your neck, to your sternum and breasts; to his chest, to his shoulders, to his kiss-swollen lips, wherever you could reach.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he confessed between encounters of lips, the softest voice with a husky aftertaste. “Missed this. Never going to another conference again.”

You almost chuckled at the unrealistic prospect, touched all the same.

“Missed you more… might go to a conference every once in a while. For science.”

Steve grunted in protest, palms framing your face as he observed with a slightly amused pout to his kiss-swollen lips.

“Hm. Sounds like your argument contradicts your hypothesis there, Doc.”

This time, you did chuckle a bit, raising an eyebrow even as you caressed his cheek, index finger tapping the pouty lower lip. “Well sue me, I’m a little dazed. I’m allowed. I finally have you for myself after a week, Steve.”

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to the pad of your finger, something devilish flashing in his eyes.

“That you do. I’m all yours. My smart, beautiful wife…” he coaxed with a kiss, hand landing lightly on your waist, hips thrusting up to encourage you to roll yours. There was no need to do so twice. You rocked your pelvis, jaw falling slack at the delightful sensation. A single movement and pleasure was spreading to every nerve ending, coil in your belly forming; Steve responded in kind, urging you on to keep going and set a pace.

“So good to me, sweetheart… so precious.”

“That’s it. So damn gorgeous like that--- look at me, love.”

“Making me feel so good… love having you like this. Never gonna get enough of this, of you…”

Golden. You felt so damn golden under his touch, from inside out, caressed with every single appreciative word spilling from his lips so naturally.

God, you had needed that. You needed that more than you had realized, having pushed down all the unpleasant interactions that had piled up during the week, interactions that made you feel everything but good, precious, brilliant or gorgeous. With every word, Steve poured his faith and love into the cracks in your being and healed them, silencing every doubt, grounding you so profoundly in the pleasure you shared that every single cell in your body ignited with something divine. The coil in your belly was strung so tight you almost felt yourself falling, if you’d only--- if he’d-

“Steve, please, I need-“

“I know what you need, love. I’ve got you.”

Your climax erupted through your body with Steve’s mouth wrapped around your nipple, his dextrous fingers digging into your ass and playing with your clit.

He found his release as he kneeled behind you and caged you to his front, one hand around your throat to angle your head for a sloppy kiss, the other spread wide over your lower belly, sneaky fingertips having coaxed another Earth-shattering orgasm from you.

Somewhere along the way, your lacy attire had ended up in shreds where Steve pulled a little too hard; the remnants of garter belt and stockings were carefully stripped by Steve’s tender fingers as he cleaned you up with a warm cloth before covering you with several kisses and only then with the comforter.

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to his side and simply holding you as close as humanly possible, living and revelling in the moment just until his stomach growled.

After a semi-serious joke about taking you as a dessert for the second time, you lazily ordered take-out for three since you had worked up an appetite, moving to the couch. A movie in the background, Steve shared some of the highlights and escapades of the past few days from the conference and DC – as much as he could anyway. In return, you shared your own – as much as you could anyway. When in each other’s embrace, the trouble seemed far away; and what had felt like a path to the next Armageddon suddenly appeared considerably more manageable.

You were practically asleep, half-sprawled over Steve’s chest, when he pressed another kiss to your scalp, this time lingering.

“I love you… and thank you. That truly was a nice welcome home,” he said, bringing a ghost of a tired smile to your lips.

“It’s our home, Steve… You should always feel welcome. Loved.”

“And I do. Coming home to you is the most precious thing,” he mused, caressing your hair when you snuggled impossibly closer to him, inhaling the comforting scent of all that was him. “But you walking the extra mile… that truly makes me the luckiest guy in the universe.”

You hummed, his words warming you more thoroughly than his body and the blanket combined. You pressed a kiss to his sternum over his sleepshirt.

“And I’m the luckiest woman. I love you, Steeeve… I’m sorry-”

His chest shook under your cheek softly as your confession turned into a yawn, but he took it as a sign. He half-carried you to the bathroom and carried you entirely by the time you were done with your nighttime routine.

You murmured another love you, sleep well as you laid your head on the pillow, cradled in Steve’s protective embrace, his words reaching your ears from a terrible, terrible distance, but tasted just as sweet as ever.

“I will, love. I most definitely will.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Aren't they just sweet? 🥺 Happy belated birthday, Stevie 💕 I hope you enjoyed - feedback is always welcomed💕

Prompts, as promised:

Pouncing on your partner as soon as they arrive home from a trip away

“My favourite thing in the world is being here with you.”

Kinks: praise, soft!dom, oral

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go bath in holy water and pray to my muse that she'll let me write longfic too 🤭

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #sweet and ours tonight #anika ann

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austinbutlerslovers · 3 months ago

Text

Wear You Out Label Mature 18+

*Three Fiction Series*

Summary: Three fics in one, all fashion related based on Austin being your love/hate boyfriend.

Co-written with @peggyao3

Faux Pas Austin invites you into his world after hiding you for months in the shadows—however things don’t turn out as planned when you realize you do not fit in. ⚠️Hardcore/Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Mean Austin • toxic relationship • Love/Hate Relationship • public anxiety reader • insecure reader • mild public humiliation • dacryphilia • kiss it better • edging• oral on fem • clitplay• p in v hidden at a party • orgasms• creampie • aftercare

Dress You Down Austin books a private room at a luxury boutique to have you fitted for his upcoming red carpet event. He doesn’t seem to like any of the choices you put on, until you wear one he immediately wants to take off. ❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Moody Austin • distracted Austin• reader affection starved• vying for Austin’s attention •Austin’s approval • p in v in a dressing room• orgasm •cream pie• after care

Try on Haul Gaining fame as a fashion vlogger intimidates Austin, especially when he sees what they send you to wear, making him immediately want to ruin you in the outfits. ❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut ❤️‍🔥 Austin jealous • brooding• reader gaining confidence • flaunting status • toxic relationship dynamics • Austin dominating • manhandling • put in place • nipple play• rough p in v on the floor• after care • slight career change

✨ Inspo: Austin w long hair phase 🔗 Masterlist

Summary Austin invites you into his world after hiding you for months in the shadows—however things don’t turn out as planned when you realize you do not fit in. ⚠️Hardcore/Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Mean Austin • toxic relationship • Love/Hate Relationship • public anxiety reader • insecure reader • mild public humiliation • dacryphilia • kiss it better • edging• oral on fem • clitplay• p in v hidden at a party • orgasms• creampie • aftercare

Faux Pas

The night air hangs heavy as you step out of the Uber, your strapped heels catching slightly on the uneven cobblestones of the chateau’s drive.

The sprawling estate glows against the evening sky, its ivy-draped walls and arched windows a testament to old-world decadence.

As you approach the entrance, a pair of security guards in sleek black suits stand vigilant. One of them fixes you with a vacant stare.

“Card.” He demands, and your fingers fumble as you pull out your ID, heart thudding as he takes it skimming the iPad in his hand. He finds your name and hands it back waving you in with a lazy flick of his light.

You let out a sigh of relief as you follow the golden lights lining the path to the garden party where Young Hollywood glitters like rare gems tonight.

Austin’s text from earlier keeps replaying in your mind “Dress nice. 1423 Château Drive. Big reveal.” Your heart had soared when you received that text. After months of secrecy, dodging paparazzi lenses and stealing moments in the shadowed corners of his life, he’d finally hinted at going public.

You’d spent hours in front of your apartment mirror, tugging at the hem of your black spaghetti strap dress, convincing yourself the simple cut was chic and timeless, paired with strappy heels borrowed from a friend.

Now, standing at the edge of this brand-hosted extravaganza, you feel like a moth fluttering toward a flame you definitely won’t survive.

The garden party thrums with energy. A DJ perched on a platform spins tracks that pulse through the night. Laughter rings out, sharp and bright from clusters of impossibly beautiful people, actors, influencers, models all clad in designer threads that shimmer under the string lights.

Champagne flutes clink, and the air buzzes with the casual arrogance of young fame. You smooth your dress, nerves rising as you scan the crowd.

Then you see him, Austin Butler, your secret boyfriend, your obsession, standing in-front of a marble fountain. He’s a vision of high fashion, dressed in a black suit tailored to perfection, the jacket slung open to reveal a sheer silk shirt that clings to his lean frame, hinting at the toned muscles beneath.

A thin silver chain gleams at his neck , catching the light as he tilts his head back to laugh with his pack of model friends. He’s untouchable, a golden god in a sea of mortals.

Then his eyes lock on yours, and your breath catches. His friends turn and one by one, their gazes slice through you like scalpels. The women tall, angular, draped in slinky Dior gowns and dripping with Cartier, sneer in unison.

The men, in their avant-garde Balenciaga and Rick Owens, tilt their heads with pitying smirks, as if you’re a thrift-store knockoff stumbled into their boutique.

Their collective stare is a judgment: you’re a tacky interloper, a girl who’s wandered into a Gucci runway show wearing a gas station T-shirt. Your dress feels flimsy now, the straps digging into your shoulders, the hem too short, too plain.

Your heels wobble as you freeze, rooted to the spot, your heart plummeting into the pit of your stomach.

Austin’s lips twitch into a smirk, his blue eyes glinting with a dark, amused edge as he strides toward you. “Awww, you look so cute in your little outfit,” he says, his voice a velvet blade as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. “ What is this H&M?” He whispers his arm sliding around your waist in a performative hug.

His friends snicker, a chorus of polished cruelty, and your face heats. You can’t move, can’t speak, your throat is in a vise as he pulls back, his grin widening.

He watches you, his stare intense, almost captivated, every squirm, every falter seeming to amuse him even more.

The willowy brunette in a metallic Gucci dress laughs, sipping her rosé. “Seriously, Austin, where’d you dig her up? She looks like she got lost on her way to a Forever 21 clearance rack.” She taunts, as they all laugh in unison.

Your eyes sting, and you bite your lip hard enough to taste copper, willing the tears to stay back.

Austin’s hand lingers on your waist, a touch of comfort in the mockery of it all. “Oh, come on, babe, don’t look so serious,” he says, pinching your chin. “This dress is a mess, you know better.”

His remark is a fresh wound, and his friends’ laughter is the salt rubbed in.

You’ve spent months clawing your way toward his approval only to feel like a fraud now, and your anxiety, a constant companion with him, rises up full force drowning out the music.

You can’t breathe. You can’t think , and finally, you break, shoving past Austin with a sob tearing from your chest, rushing through the crowd.

You can hear Austin’s voice behind you feigned and dismissive, “Let me go take care of my little mess” he says, and the laughter follows you into the chateau, the garden’s party music fading as you stumble deeper through the dimly lit halls, tears blurring your vision.

You find a bathroom a cavernous retreat of black marble and gilded mirrors, a chandelier hanging with crystals like frozen tears, and you slam the door and lock it, collapsing onto the cold polished floor as sobs tear through you.

Your reflection in the wall mirror is a wreck, mascara streaking your cheeks, lips trembling, the dress a sad, wilted thing under the glamorous lighting.

You’ve cried like this before, too many times, curled up on his chic sectional couch or sprawled across his king-sized bed after he’s dismantled you with a casual jab. “You’re so fragile, it’s kind of pathetic.” Or “If you can’t handle me, maybe you don’t belong here.”

But always, after you’ve fled to your own cramped apartment, he’d call, his voice low, coaxing, reeling you back like a fish on a line.

You hate how much you love him, how his cruelty only fuels your desperation to prove yourself.

Tonight, though, it’s different. He’s humiliated you in public, in front of his glittering world, and you want to vanish, to live in this bathroom forever.

The door handle rattles, snapping you out of your spiral and you choke back a sob, pressing a hand to your mouth. “Baby,” his voice comes smooth and dangerous through the wood door.

Your heart beats faster, a traitor even now but you don’t move, don’t answer, praying he’ll think it’s someone else.

But then he speaks again, sharper, laced with that twisted delight you know too well. “I’ve heard you cry so many times, I’d recognize it anywhere. Don’t make a scene, open the door.”

You stay silent, your breath hitching as you wipe at your ruined face. He rattles the handle harder. “Come on, don’t be dramatic. You know I hate it when you sulk like this.”

He pauses, then quieter, “What you want me to put another sticker on my boyfriend is an asshole card c’mon baby open up for me.”

Your stomach twists, a sick cocktail of shame and longing swirling within as you ache for him to pull you close, to whisper that you’re enough.

You rise slowly, your steps unsteady as you approach the door, and with trembling fingers you unlock it.

He comes in without hesitation, as breathtakingly devastating as ever. His blue eyes shimmer beneath the chandelier’s glow as he locks the door behind him, his gaze sweeping over your fragile form.

Your eyes are wet with unshed tears as you tremble forcing back a sob.

“Still so easy to make you cry,” he says, his voice laced with mockery and a shadowed edge, a thrill flickering in his tone as he drinks in the sight of you so broken.

His long blonde hair falls across his face as he tilts his head studying you and a twisted spark flickers in his expression. His eyes darken with a perverse fascination as he lingers on the tears that spill down your cheeks.

“Crying in the bathroom like some pitiful little heroine, it’s almost too perfect.” he says, his voice low, taunting, savoring the way your vulnerability unravels before him.

Your sobs catch in your throat, and his gaze sharpens, fixated on the tremble of your lips.

You turn your face away, but he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, his firm grip sending a shiver through you despite everything else.

His thumbs slide up, brushing over your cheeks, tracing the dampness there with a slow, tenderness that contrasts the mockery in his stare.

“Let me go,” you whisper, voice shaking, but your weak, and he knows it as his lips curve into that smirk, the one you both love and hate.

“Oh, babe, you don’t mean that,” he says, his hands trailing over you now, his fingers brushing down your arms, lingering at your waist.

He, pulls you to him, your heels scraping the tiles as you stumble and his hands guide you backward, steering you toward the sink.

Before you can protest, he lifts you effortlessly onto the cool marble, the chill seeping through your thin dress.

He steps between your legs, his body pinning you there as leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re so fucking hot for me when you cry.” he whispers his voice a low confession that sends a jolt through you.

His lips find your neck, kissing up the sensitive skin, slow and delicate, each press of his mouth igniting a fire beneath your shame.

He moves higher, his kisses trailing to your jaw, then your lips, and as he kisses you, you taste the salt of your tears mingling with the heat of his mouth.

Your broken sorrow shifts, twisting into something else, a dizzying realization that he wants you, craves you, even at your worst…especially at your worst. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer, and for a moment, the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in this gilded cage.

His hand dips lower, rubbing between your legs as you gasp against his lips, torn between the undeniable pleasure and the fleeting urge to push him away.

“What is it, babe?” he whispers, his fingers sliding up and down, teasing your slickness beneath his touch. “You can’t resist me, can you?” he says with dark intent.

You glare at him, anger simmering beneath your silence, but the heat between your legs betrays you, a frustrating ache that only he seems to ignite.

“I’ll make it right for you,” he says, his voice a smooth promise as his eyes lock on yours with a knowing glint.

He places his hands on your thighs, lowering onto his knees, his tall frame positioning his face just between your legs, and pulls you forward until your hands brace behind you on the sink. He hooks his thumbs into the bands at your hips sliding your panties down your legs, letting them drop to the floor.

He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes fixated on how wet you are, “Always such a mess for me baby,” he whispers, his voice low and taunting, and his mouth dives in, his lips pressing against you with a heat that sends a shockwave through your core.

You watch in the wall mirror as his shoulders flex, holding you steady, savoring every second of pleasuring you, knowing full well how much he’s screwed up.

His tongue moves with a sloppy, desperate edge, lapping at you hungrily, humiliating himself in the mess of it all as he buries his face deeper, sucking and teasing you until your resentment starts to blur into forgiveness.

His nose brushes against you as he presses deeper, inhaling you like he’s addicted. His hand guides yours to his hair, urging you to push him, and you give in, letting the wet, fervent strokes of his tongue unravel you as he moans into you, the sound raw and needy.

He eats you like he’s starving for you, dragging his tongue with every greedy swirl and pull of his lips until soft moans fall from your lips, the first shudders of climax coursing through you.

His hands lock around your thighs, keeping you spread wide as little whimpers escape your throat, his relentless assault on your clit devastating as you come undone. Your hips rock helplessly with every surge of his tongue, your walls throbbing painfully around nothing as the pleasure crashes over you.

“I…..I need you,” you whisper , your voice hesitate and trembling, entirely desperate to feel him deep inside.

He pulls back, still holding your thighs, wiping his mouth along your dress, smearing your slickness across the fabric. “I know you do,” he says, with an edge in his tone as he stands, “You always do,“ he confirms, unfastening his pants and shoving his boxers down to free his cock, thick and hard.

You part your legs wider, glistening for him as he nudges his tip against you, then pushes in, the rush instant as he sinks deep inside until he fills you completely.

Shock and bliss collide within you, your mind reeling as he takes over, each thrust pulling you to him, hitting that perfect depth that leaves you gasping, your hands clutching at his neck letting every rational thought slip away.

He thrusts harder, tugging at your dress, and with a sudden, sharp thrust, one of the straps snaps, the fabric sliding off your shoulder as he drives himself deeper, raw, relentless, the cold marble a stark contrast to the heat of him.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of his movements, the way he takes you like no one else can, the way he consumes all of your senses.

His hand slides down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing with just enough pressure as he whispers, “You’re mine, aren’t you?” The sensation building, as you near the edge, and with a firm pinch, he takes you over.

You come as a wave of release crashes through you, your body trembling against his as you moan in pleasure. He releases his hold on your clit, his own climax hitting him hard, as a guttural, “Fuck Babe…that’s it, take it all,” falls from his lips, rough and unguarded, his thrusts surging between your legs as he finishes.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of your ragged breaths filling the space, his chest rising and falling as he slides out of you, leaving you trembling on the marble.

He steps back, tucking his cock away and zipping up smoothly, fixing his suit with a few casual flick of his hands. “Feel better now that I fucked you in this hideous dress?” he says, his tone cutting through your lingering haze.

You reach for the broken strap, fingers fumbling as you glance at the mirror behind you, your reflection a tangle of flushed skin and torn fabric.

Before you can dwell on it, he takes your chin, turning you to face him. “You’re my girl now,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “I can’t have you wearing rags like this anymore.” He says, hi thumb sliding against the tears staining your cheek, “My girl needs me to get her something that elevates her beauty, hm?” he confirms, a soft grin tugging at his lips.

You manage a weak smile, your heart fluttering at his compliment -that you’re beautiful, that he cares, but as his grin widens, a cold realization settles in….he just doesn’t want you to embarrass him again.

END ⛲️

Summary Austin books a private room at a luxury boutique to have you fitted for his upcoming red carpet event. He doesn’t seem to like any of the choices you put on, until you wear one he immediately wants to take off.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Moody Austin • distracted Austin• reader affection starved• vying for Austin’s attention •Austin’s approval • p in v in a dressing room• orgasm •cream pie• after care

Dress You Down

The air in Los Angeles shimmers with that golden haze, the kind that makes everything feel like your in a movie scene.

You adjust your sunglasses as Austin pulls his black Audi R8 into a discreet parking lot off Rodeo Drive.

The neighborhood screams wealth, palm trees sway lazily, storefronts gleam with perfection, and the faint privilege from people walking by fills in the air.

Austin booked this shopping trip weeks ago, some ultra-exclusive boutique that doesn’t even have a sign out front, just a matte black door framed by frosted glass.

They don’t let just anyone in, and Austin makes you hyper aware of that fact. He always has a way of making everything feel like a favor he does for you, even when it’s his idea. ..even when it’s his film event at Cannes you’ll be attending for your first red carpet debut.

The door buzzes open, and a tall slender attendant with a slicked-back bun greets you, her voice smooth as silk. “Mr. Butler, welcome. Your room is ready.” She leads you through a marble hallway, past racks of clothing so pristine they look like art installations, to a private suite at the back.

The room is obscene, a plush velvet couch in deep emerald, a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, a silver bucket of champagne sweating on a glass table, and a heavy velvet curtain that hides a changing area.

A rack of dresses stands waiting, every piece already in your size, hand-picked by some stylist you’ve never met. You run your fingers over the fabrics, silk, cashmere, chiffon and freeze when you see it, a sapphire blue gown, floor-length with delicate straps and a subtle shimmer. You brush the hem, and the richness of the silk sinks into your skin, smooth and cool. You’ve never touched anything so beautiful.

Austin flops onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, legs sprawled, already deep in his phone. His black shirt clings to his shoulders, his blonde hair pulled in a low bun, just enough to look effortless. The attendant opens the champagne with a soft pop, pouring two flutes before handing them over. “Anything else?” she asks, her tone polite.

“Nah, we’re good,” Austin says without looking up. She nods and slips out, leaving you alone with the faint hum of the TV playing some ambient fashion reel.

You sip the champagne, bubbles fizzing against your tongue, and set the glass down to grab the sapphire dress. “I’m gonna try this one,” you say, more to yourself than him, slipping behind the curtain.

The fabric slides over your skin, hugging your curves just right. You turn to the full-length mirror, and your breath catches, you look stunning.

The deep blue makes your eyes stand out, and the cut flatters every inch of you. You feel like someone else, someone worthy of this room, this moment.

You pull the curtain back with a little flourish, expecting… something anything but Austin hunches over his phone, thumbs flying across the screen.

You clear your throat. “Ahem.”

He glances up, eyes flicking over you with a quick flash of appreciation, his lips twitching into a half-smirk.“Have you seen yourself in it?” he asks, his gaze dropping back to his phone.

Your stomach sinks. You poured yourself into this dress…the dress, the one you already decided is your favorite…and he barely gave a reaction to it.

You retreat behind the curtain, peeling it off with a lump in your throat, and grab the next one, a slinky black number with a plunging back that ties in a delicate knot at the base of your spine. It’s sexy, daring and maybe will even get his attention.

You step out again, smoothing the fabric over your hips. “What about this?”

He barely looks up. “Let me see the back.” You spin slowly, and flicks his eyes up for half a second. “Nah.” Back to his phone.

You huff, louder than you mean to, and storm back behind the curtain your cheeks burning.

You yank the black dress off and grab the third option, a skin-tight crimson see-through gown with a fitted bodice. It’s bold, almost too bold, the sheer fabric clinging to your body and transitioning from opaque to sheer, but you’re past caring. You step out, head low, and give a half-hearted twirl. “Well…?”

Your met with silence, and when you look up, for once, his phone is down and he’s staring right at you, his eyes dark as he stands.

“I fucking like this one,” he says, his voice low and measured. His hands settle on your waist, firmly pushing you back and pinning you between him and the mirror.

“Austin, what—” you start, but his mouth is on yours, cutting you off. His kiss is deep, consuming, leaving you stunned with your back pressed against the cold glass.

“You get me so fucking hot,” he whispers against your lips, his voice heavy with need. “Anything you wear…anything…it’s too much. I can’t fucking stand it.” His fingers fumble with his jeans, a wild, frantic edge to his movements as he free his cock, and you gasp as he hikes your leg up, hooking it roughly around his waist.

The dress bunches around your thighs as his fingers find your panties, rubbing them with a possessive pressure that makes you squirm.

He kisses you harder, tongue sliding against yours with a hungry edge as his fingers stroke your clit, coaxing a slick heat that floods your body with desperate need. Before you can even catch your breath, he hooks your panties aside and thrusts in with a slow, deep stroke that stretches you, the pressure making you gasp as he fills you completely.

You whimper, a jolt of shock and pleasure tearing through you as his eyes wander your body with lust in the crimson dress. He’s fixated, tracing the way it clings to your curves, the way it shifts with every brutal thrust.

“Fuck,” he groans, head dipping to your neck, lips brushing your skin as he breathes you in. “You look too fucking good in this.”

Your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging in, as your mind spins. You’re in a store…a public store, with an attendant who could walk in at any second, and Austin doesn’t even care . He wants you just like this, getting off on the risk, and it drives you insane.

“Austin, please,” you whisper, his full attention and raw passion making you fight to keep from moaning. He knows it, and as his eyes lock with yours, his thrusts hit just right, causing a delicious ache to bloom low in your core with every move.

You begin to moan loudly and his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your mouth to his and silencing you with a deep claiming kiss. Your hesitation melts away as he fucks you faster, pressing you against the mirror with a rhythm that’s relentlessly satisfying making your walls flutter on his cock with every thrust.

His hand slides up, caressing your throat, squeezing just tight enough to dizzy you as you surrender, nails digging into his shoulders. Then his hand moves higher, covering your mouth to muffle the moans as he drives faster, deeper, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, white-hot spasms crashing through you with every thrust.

A sudden knock on the dressing room door makes you gasp. “Is everything to your satisfaction Mr. Butler?” the attendant calls out, her voice muffled but curious.

Austin doesn’t stop, his hips slam into yours even harder, one hand tightening on your waist as the other pressing harder over your mouth, silencing your moans.

“Everything’s …coming together ….perfectly,” he chokes out, his voice strained as he grinds deeper, relentless, and your orgasm crashes through you, eyes fluttering and rolling back as the mirror rattles with a few more savage thrusts. His hips slow down, pressing into yours as he groans, low and restrained, finishing with a shudder.

He pulls out, leaving you both gasping in the small space, your legs trembling, the dress still tangled around your hips. He steps back, zipping up his jeans with a shaky hand, “Get the first one,” he says, sweeping his hair back. his voice rough but firm. “This one’s coming too…but I can’t let you out in it, or I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

END 👗

❤️‍🔥Try on Haul Gaining fame as a fashion vlogger intimidates Austin, especially when he sees what they send you to wear, making him immediately want to ruin you in the outfits. ❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut ❤️‍🔥 Austin jealous • brooding• reader gaining confidence • flaunting status • toxic relationship dynamics • Austin dominating • manhandling • put in place • nipple play• rough p in v on the floor• after care • slight career change

Try on Haul

The bedroom is a chaotic swirl of tissue paper, cardboard boxes, and brand logos, all scattered across the floor like the aftermath of a fashion tornado.

You stand in the center of it all, adjusting the tripod with practiced ease, pretending not to notice Austin sitting on the lounger in the corner.

His presence is impossible to ignore, his sharp blue eyes tracking your every move, his lean frame sprawled out with a casual arrogance that makes your pulse race.

He isn’t supposed to be here, watching you film your latest try-on haul, but there he is, arms crossed, silently judging your every move.

You know he’s trying to rattle you, but you aren’t about to let him win, not with thousands of followers waiting for your next post.

Ever since you started dating Austin, your online presence has exploded. Overnight, your follower count skyrocketed into the tens of thousands, and the brand deals followed like a tidal wave, each company desperate to have you in their latest designs, knowing you’d be seen next to him.

The thrill of it is intoxicating, a rush you can’t get enough of, and luckily you have a natural ability to keep your audience entertained with your bubbly charm and effortless updates.

You flick on the camera, your voice bright and giddy as you gesture to the mountain of packages behind you.

“Okay everyone, I am so excited for this haul! Look at all these boxes! I can’t wait to rip into them and show you everything!”

You can feel Austin’s gaze boring into you, but he stays silent, so you click off the camera and start unpacking, pulling out silky fabrics and structured cuts with a grin.

As you strip down to your bra and panties, Austin finally speaks, his voice low and edged with something you can’t quite place. “How many times do you have to try things on?”

You glance over at the huge pile of freebies, smirking as you toss a cashmere shirt onto the bed. “Hmm, like, a lot,” you tease, knowing it gets under his skin. He hates how much attention this gets you, even if he’d never admit it outright.

He scoffs, leaning forward slightly. “Who’s watching this?”

“Thousands of people,” you shoot back, keeping your tone light.

“Men?” His voice sharpens, jealousy flashing in his eyes.

Your eyes widen, caught off guard, because Austin is hot… ridiculously hot, so that possessive streak still surprises you sometimes. “My fans are female,” you say, fighting a grin at his misjudgment.

He rolls his eyes, muttering, “Sure,” as he sinks back into the lounger, clicking away on his phone, clearly unconvinced.

Undeterred, you begin tearing into more packaging, piling clothing on the bed and letting them spill onto the floor.

The first piece you chose is a soft pink dress, form-fitting with a deep V-neck and a hem that grazes your thighs. You slip it on, the fabric hugging your curves like a second skin, and turn on the camera.

“Okay, this dress is everything. It accentuates my waist perfectly, and the hem is just low enough not to be daring, but still flirty, right?”

You give a little jump for the infamous bounce test, the skirt flaring slightly, and you hear Austin make a low sound behind you, but you shrug it off, stopping the camera recording and peeling the dress down.

Next up is a tie-up crop top in creamy ivory, paired with a frilly mini skirt that swishes as you move. You unclasp your bra and lace up the crop top, then you pull on the skirt twirling in front of the mirror with a delighted squeal. “Obsessed,” you murmur to yourself before flipping the camera back on.

“I’m in love with this set! The cut is so cute, and the design, look at these little ties! And the skirt length!” You turn to the side, showing it off, unaware that the curve of your ass peeks out just enough to catch the light…and that’s it for Austin.

His phone hits the lounger with a dull thud as he stands, closing the distance between you in two strides. Before you can react, his hand is on your ass, squeezing firmly. “Will showing this get you more views, hm?” He teases, and your face flushes red, panic surging as you fumble to shut off the camera.

“Austin!” you scoff, spinning to check the footage. “You ruined my take! That was such a good take, nothing was showing!” Your voice spikes, uncharacteristically sharp as you glare up at him. “Honestly how dare you, you’re just jealous aren’t you!” You snap.

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he snatches your phone from your hand and tosses it onto the bed, taking you down to the floor, and pinning you on a pile of clothing in one fluid motion.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, his voice rough as he hikes up your skirt. “I’m not letting my girl try on all this shit for views.” He says, his cock pressing hard against you, and you exhale feeling a shiver race down your spine.

His fingers tug at the ribbon of your top, letting it fall open as your breasts spill free and he groans, sucking one nipple into his mouth, then the other, his breath hot against your skin.

“Fuck the take,” he says, fumbling with his pants as he pulls out his cock heavy and hard. “Fuck your followers.” He grunts yanking your panties aside, pressing his tip against you, his voice dropping to a rasp. “You’re mine, fuck everything else.” He thrusts into you hard, his cock thick and unrelenting, filling you in a way that makes your head spin.

You moan loudly, sparks igniting behind your eyes as he decimates you right there on the pile of your own clothing haul.

His thrusts are deep, deliberate, each one stoking the fire you crave, his attention, his need, his everything and you arch into him, gasping, “Oh, please, oh, yes,” your body singing with how perfectly he unravels you.

He fucks you harder, grinding against your clit with a relentless rhythm that sends jolts of pleasure sparking through your core. His hands squeeze your breasts, fingers kneading the soft flesh as he revels in the feel of you until you’re out of control, teetering on the brink, about to come.

He leans down, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “You think they’d watch you without me? You’re Austin Butler’s girlfriend, that’s why they care.” His words are degrading, laced with possession, but they light you up, sending you right over the edge as you came hard, trembling beneath him from the humiliating truth of it.

He thrusts against you deeper, grunting as the pleasure surges through him, your walls pulsing as he comes, and his release floods through you in a rush. His final thrusts are jagged, desperate, pushing in deep and sending aftershocks rippling through your body.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you stunned and breathless, sprawled across the clothing. Sitting back on his heels, he rakes a hand through his hair, still panting. “I have an idea for your content…”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, sarcasm lacing your voice. “Let me guess, OnlyFans?”

“What?! no,” He says shooting you a look. “You’re my girl. I was gonna say I’ll pull you into my deals. So you don’t have to do all this.”

You blink still, processing. “You and me together in luxury brand photo shoots?” You say the idea sparking a thrill inside as you grin eyes lighting up.

He smirks, as cocky as ever, climbing over you and leaning in to brush his lips against your forehead. “They’ll lose their minds seeing us together,” he whispers, lowering his face to press kisses along your jaw. “And I’ll make sure every shot screams you’re mine.”

END 👗 📦 📱

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List @purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff @laurenmcquilty

#austin butler #austinbutler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #fanfic #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #smut #austinbutler x #austin butler reader #austin butler one shot #one shot fanfic #one shot smut #rough smut #austinbutlerslovers

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ivymarquis · 9 months ago

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Ivy's Kinktober 2k24 Extravaganza

The Proposal

Day One - Dirty Talk Gaz x Reader WC: 1085 Content: ONS, condom usage, dirty talk, overstimulation, feelings

Kinktober Masterlist Day Two: Risky Place

You know enough by now to know that the men who ooze that calm, quiet confidence are the ones that are the most promising in bed. The ones drooling over you and promising a good time rarely deliver the goods, and while nothing is a guarantee you’ve gotten better at sussing out who is a suitable prospect to scratch this particular itch, and who is best tossed back into the pond.

If you were looking for the long term, then perhaps his other qualities would hold more weight with you. But given what you’re looking for- a distraction for the night- Kyle might have several positive attributes but you’re only worrying about the promise of getting folded like a piece of paper.

He’s a charmer without being overly slick- lacks the cloying sweetness of a man laying it on too thick because he’s not confident in his ability to deliver the goods. He knows what he can do, and is perfectly content to let you sort out for yourself that you want to bite.

Like a cat being promised a chin scratch and stroke down your back, Kyle lets you know his interest without being overly demanding and is rewarded for his discipline with you crawling into his lap.

He’s less passive with you perched on top of him, the make out session hot and heavy. One hand cups the back of your head, the other gripping your hip. Who started grinding on who first is a question that may never have a definitive answer, but either way the result is the same.

“You like grinding on my cock, doll?” he teases as the pair of you break for air.

“Yes,” you pant your response, like the growing wet spot in your panties isn’t answer enough.

“Good. Can’t wait to see what you look like bouncing on it.”

Oh.

Closed mouths don’t get fed, and Kyle seems insistent on gorging on you.

It’s been so long since anyone has touched you like this. He seems absolutely enchanted with your body, like he can’t believe his luck that he’s managed to sweet talk you into his flat for the night. Requests and demands fall from his lips as easily as praise does, something you become familiar with once you’ve shed your clothes.

Kyle gets his wish of seeing you bouncing on his cock (after putting the rubber on, thank you!), and you’re more than happy to set your own pace to ensure you get yours.

God his cock is just perfect. Enough size to it without being overwhelming and daunting to take. The shaft has a bend in it that’s hitting that one spot in you, making your legs shake and your eyes cross.

“Oh my God it feels so good,” you whine, fingers digging into his shoulders for purchase and traction as you ride him like your life depends on it. You’re almost proud of yourself that your voice is steady and not warbling from the ecstasy.

“Found the spot huh?” he teases, one hand teasing your nipple as the other helps guide you up and down out of his lap.

You whine wordlessly- high pitched and desperate- and nod, feeling out of breath as you chase your high.

“You close, doll?” he asks, his question answered with another nonverbal response as you nod.

“Think that clit of yours is just begging for some attention, pretty girl,” he tells you before dropping his hand to lightly tease you with two fingers.

You feel like you’re going to go insane, actually. Everything is building, winding tighter and tighter and-

“Like that?” he questions, as if the way your cunt clenches down on him isn’t proof enough that he’s figured it out.

“Yes,” you pant “Don’t stop. Please- fuck!- Just like that!”

“Come on, doll- give it to me. Want to feel you cumming on my cock,” he demands, and you’re not in any position to refuse him, are you?

Your climax hits like a bus as you chant Oh my God, oh my Go- with a particularly unlady-like grunt escaping as Kyle doesn’t break rhythm or tempo once. He works you through your orgasm almost to the point of overstimulation before finding his own end, filling the condom.

The room is silent save for the pair of you trying to catch your breath- You still haven’t loosened your hold on his shoulders yet, clinging to the stability he’s providing at the moment. His hands roam your back in broad sweeping motions up and down, and distantly you’re aware that he’s sweet talking in your ear- low and soothing, coaxing you back down to earth while you put your head on straight.

Kyle’s a gentleman and gives you first rights to the shower. The time alone gives you time to think.

Most of your one night stands have you wet and desperate for more- in a lackluster “he didn’t do his job right” way. Right now you’re speed running all the stages of grief because you know that when you get your clothes and leave this man’s flat, odds are good you’ll never see him again. Which is a tragedy, because he’s quite possibly the best lay you’ll ever have.

When you feel like you can get your legs under you and your knees don’t threaten to collapse, you decide to rip the bandaid off. Better to get it over with now.

You order the Uber while he’s in the shower. It doesn’t take long to arrive, but you also have underestimated how quickly a military man can take a shower.

You’re caught red handed- literally, with your hand on the knob- just moments before you would have disappeared into the night.

“Running out on me, are we?” he asks, and you know despite the joking, light tone there’s an edge there- surprise and disappointment rolling together.

“I didn’t want to overstay my welcome,” you answer amicably, fingers still wrapped around the door.

“No such thing,” he assures you, “besides, after that performance you earned yourself breakfast at the very least.”

You see the offering for what it is, and hesitate.

Things in your life are messy right now and you just wanted a distraction. Kyle had delivered in spades of being the charming date for the night, and you certainly didn’t find him bad company but you’re also not sure how this ends.

“I’m just offering food and maybe a round two, doll. It’s not a marriage proposal just yet.”

You let go of the door.

#kinktober 2024 #my writing #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #dirty talk

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medusapelagia · 9 months ago

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Other events: General, Rare Pairs, Character Centered Events - October Update

Stevie-ween Three dialogue prompts and the a month to post them. All Stevies are welcome! Event Info

Eddie Munson Big Bang ( @eddiemunsonbigbang) Sign ups are close but you can still join as a pinch hitter! Event info

Metal Sandwich Bingo ( @metalsandwichbingo) Bingo card have been sent and the bingo will take place 1 Oct - 31 Dec, 2024 Event Info

13 Days of Hellcheer (@hellcheerweek) A mix of romantic, spooky and one word prompts for each one of the 13 days of Hellcheer! It starts on October 19th! Event info

Strangetober 2024 (@strangetober) 31 Halloween prompts! Event info

Corroded Coffin Fest (@corrodedcoffinfest) Corroded Coffin fest will host a pop-up event from October 25th-31st based around the 7 Deadly Sins! Mandatory Word Count: 331, 666, 1031 or 1313. Event Info

Billy Hargrove Big Bang ( @billybigbang2024) Teams were made and posting season will start in November! Event info

Spicy Six -ber month challenge 🍂❄️ (hosted by @thefreakandthehair) Lex is hosting another event soon! And the prompts were finally revealed! Find them here. Event Info

Metalsandwich Movie Mania ( @now-showing-at-the-hawk-events ) Pre-2000s Metalsandwich Movie Mania will take place November 10th-23rd! Event Info and prompts

Demo Week December (on Twitter @/TwistedTwink69) A monsterfucking week from the 2nd to the 7th of December (event +18) Event info

Steve Harrington Big Bang ( @steveharringtonbigbang) Finally we have some info about this Big Bang that was postponed to 2025! Sign Ups Open -- January 01, 2025 Sign Ups Close -- March 21, 2025 Event info

The Monster Hunting Mini Bang (@stoncybangs) Opening in 2025 if you ship Stoncy, Stonathan, Jancy or Stancy this is your moment! More info coming soon Event Info

Stommy Minibang (@stommybang) Teams were made! Get ready for posting season in February 2025! Event info

StrangerThings Reverse Big Bang ( @strangerthingsreversebigbang) This year Big Bang was such a huge success that I can't wait for the next one! Sign-ups opening September 2025!

As always feel free to reblog and add other events!

Under the cut the past events masterlist or AO3 collection if you want something to read!

Stranger Things Sapphic Mini Bang ( @sapphicstevents) Here the AO3 Collection!

September Stobin Extravaganza (@sept-stobin-extravaganza) Find the AO3 Collection HERE

Corroded Coffin - Get a Job Masterlist (@corrodedcoffinfest)

Hellcheer Anniversary week (@hellcheeranniversaryweek) find the entries on their blog!

Stevie week ( @stevieweek), here the AO3 Collection

Stranger Things Big Bang ( @strangerthingsbigbang), AO3 Collection

Corroded Coffin Fest ( @corrodedcoffinfest), AO3 Collection

Summer Things Fest ( @summerthingsfest) Event info on AO3

Sapphic Summer- August Prompts (@sapphicstevents) Here the AO3 Collection

A Stranger Summer ( @astrangersummer) Here the AO3 Collection

#stranger things event #general stranger things events #rare pair stranger things event #rare pair #signal boost #general events #character centered big bang #eddie munson #billy hargrove #steve harrington #sapphic #corroded coffin #stobin #platonic stobin #robin buckley #hellcheer #chrissy cunningham #demo week december

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yicityrarepair · 4 months ago

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Are we getting closer? So close we can taste it? In just TWO-ISH WEEKS we will have a xue yang rare pair EXTRAVAGANZA I’m so excited I’m wheezing.

are you like me, friend? Come. Take my hand. Let’s ship our favourite candy loving gremlin with unconventional people together. Let’s be the change we wanna see in the world.

feel free to post on tumblr with the tag #xueyangrarepairweek2025 or on ao3’s collection.

all ships, het, slash, poly, are welcome. All ratings, all takes. Any medium is welcome as well with no minimum. See the pinned message on this blog for details, or feel free to ask questions!

excited to announce i added some nsfw prompts as well just for some extra spice. A Full Prompts list will be posted on March 9! stay tuned!

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jbaileyfansite · 7 months ago

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Interview with Wo What Wear (2024)

It feels like the tornado at the beginning of The Wizard of Oz, and if I've still got my ruby slippers on at the end, I'll be happy," Jonathan Bailey says, flashing that famous grin. The actor and current internet boyfriend is, of course, referencing the whirlwind that has been the Wicked press tour—a three-week-long global extravaganza where many (happy) tears were shed, memes were born, and the fashion, including a special pair of short shorts, had everyone talking. I'm catching Bailey on a Friday afternoon during a rare bit of downtime en route to JFK Airport. Destination: London for the film's final stop and premiere. For this Brit at this moment, there's no place like home.

He's exhausted—rightfully so—but still in great spirits, and I can happily say at the time of writing this article that all the promotional hustle and bustle from the cast has paid off dividends. Jon M. Chu's big-screen adaptation of the wildly popular 2003 stage musical is a certified hit with audiences, generating over $350 million globally and becoming one of the year's most successful debuts. The soundtrack is also smashing records.

Wicked is the finale to what has been a banner year for Bailey, which kicked off with an Emmy nomination for his spectacular performance in the historical miniseries Fellow Travelers. It also saw his return as Viscount Anthony Bridgerton in the continuous hit machine that is Bridgerton; the launch of his LGBTQ+ charity The Shameless Fund, which supports the community through global creative collaborations; and the filming of his next movie project, 2025's summer blockbuster Jurassic World Rebirth.

For the moment, Bailey is fully in what he tells me is his "Winkie era"—a nod to his Wicked character Prince Fiyero, who will leave you swooning with one bat of the eye or, at the very least, breaking out into song and dance. I can attest that the actor is every bit as charismatic and charming in real life as his on-screen counterpart, so it's easy to see why Bailey was a shoo-in for the film's lovable heartthrob.

Bailey's excitement for playing Fiyero was twofold. While the character is inherently lean on the page, there was a lot of complexity for Bailey to discover within the lyrics of his two musical numbers, "Dancing Through Life" and his duet with Elphaba later in part two. It was also an opportunity to come back to his earliest passions in life—singing and dancing—which he gave up on at a young age to pursue sports. Growing up, the actor was struck by iconic male dancing in film, naming Fred Astaire, John Travolta, and Patrick Swayze as big inspirations. There's no denying Bailey's talent as he performs "Dancing Through Life," a remarkable sequence of vocals and acrobatics that required bootcamp-level training from the actor. That, combined with the more emotional moments with Cynthia Erivo as Elphaba, leaves you wanting more. His performance even earned a special stamp of approval. "Norbert Leo Butz, a hero of mine, sent me a text saying that I'm very much welcomed into the brotherhood of Fiyero, which I'm very, very proud of," Bailey shares.

Reflecting on the entire experience, Bailey is feeling eternally grateful and lucky for the opportunity to be a part of such a big cultural moment. "I probably wouldn't have been able to do it 10 years before, and obviously because of Bridgerton, I think it was the perfect time for me to be the right person for the job," he says.

Now, what's next?

I ask if he has a strong desire to run in the opposite direction after doing a big-budget movie like Wicked. Bailey's answer? "Yeah, definitely!"

Looking ahead to February, Bailey is set to play the titular character in Nicholas Hytner's stage production of Richard II. "I thought maybe Richard II onstage felt as far removed as you could go," he laughs. Theater is where the actor got his start, and it continues to be a grounding place for him. "Going back to the stage always feels, to me, like a creative reset because you are going back to the craft, and it's a very honed and creative adventure where you have to guide your body through it, and it's academic," he says. Bailey is the consummate student, always learning, nipping, and tucking his craft.

Richard II not only marks Bailey's highest-profile Shakespeare role to date but also reunites the star with Hytner, whose 2013 production of Othello at the National Theatre featured the actor as Cassio. "Him offering me the part of Cassio in Othello in the room was, for me, my big break," Bailey says of the theater director. "At that point in my life, I definitely thought I was more of a Roderigo, so to be offered Cassio was an example of [how] you have to learn what other people see in you."

Following Richard II, Bailey will return to the big screen with Scarlett Johansson and Mahershala Ali in Jurassic World Rebirth, playing paleontologist Dr. Henry Loomis. A passing of the torch from Wicked co-star Jeff Goldblum, perhaps? We'll have to wait and see, but Bailey does call Goldblum's Jurassic Park character Dr. Malcolm the "rizz king" and credits the actor's performances for keeping him "enthralled and titillated." "If I can achieve half of what he did in the original Jurassic, I'll be very happy," he adds.

What Bailey can say about his own experience at this time is how excited he is to be joining the major franchise given how deeply nostalgic it is for him. Jurassic Park was the first film Bailey saw in the cinema with his family. He gets goosebumps thinking back on that time. "I just remember feeling so alive," he says. "It's a bit like Wicked [and] going back to singing and dancing. [I'm] now going back to one of these iconic experiences that I found so inspiring then, to be able to infiltrate that world." To say Bailey is excited about this movie would be an understatement. "The idea of the John Williams theme playing under trotting through some grass fields chasing a dinosaur, you can't get more mind-blowing and eye-popping than that," he says.

It suddenly dawns on Bailey that he's in his 30th year of acting. The 36-year-old has been performing for the majority of his life, and considering all that he's done in his career thus far, it feels like the world is his oyster in terms of what he can do next. So what strikes his fancy these days? "Honestly, it feels like romance. You get butterflies or something happens, a little twinge. I just can't put my finger on it," he says. Swoon.

Bailey circles back to an earlier comment about Hytner seeing something in him that he didn't see himself. That's what he's constantly chasing. "To be scooped up by someone who can see a performance in you that you're not really aware of and to be guided by them in their own world and in their own vision excites me," Bailey says.

Reading a part he hasn't seen before or seen an actor like himself play before, filling those spaces, and finding those cubby holes—that is the genius of Jonathan Bailey. With each new project, he continues to surprise and delight.

Source

#jonathan bailey #jonny bailey #interviews #interviews:2024 #wicked #jurassic world rebirth #richard II #who what wear interview #NEW!

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ann-ndsims · 2 years ago

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Seasons of Love Challenge

If you want a mini-challenge that centers on romance, story, and gameplay, then this might be the perfect challenge for you! I introduce to you, the Seasons of Love Challenge! Pair up or create four pairs and be the matchmaker and the writer of their destiny. Get indulged with their story and help them find love by the end of the season!

For each season, we have different couple that may or may not fall in love before the season ends. I recommend that you edit the in-game season length, it can be up to 7, 12, 21 or 25 days per season, depending to you. This challenge can either be rotational or generational, it’s completely up to you.

Feel free to remove and add some more activities to the following. These are not really rules, but more like guides or checklist that you can do so that you won’t run out of ideas to do for each round, and hopefully, help progress the relationship of the each pair.

For those who prefer slow-burn romance (like me!) there’s a Slowburn Romance Edition by the end with some set of rules, be sure to check that out! This is supposedly a personal challenge for my game, but I thought it would be nice to share it with the community. If you do this challenge, please don't forget to add the hashtag #TS3SeasonsofLove and mention me, I would love to see other simmers enjoy this little challenge that I've created 💖

Note: You may play this in any order.

SUMMER

trope: enemies to lovers

backstory:

- sim A is demoted from her work because of her hotheaded nature, and was assigned in this town where her grandparents/(or) sister live. She absolutely hates that, she wants to go up the ladder and build her name, but how can she do that now that she's demoted and stuck in this town?

- sim B is carefree and enigmatic, living his life to the fullest. He used to get sick a lot when he was a child and now that he's a teen and rarely gets sick anymore, he wants to break free from those restrictions and do the things he hasn't done in his childhood.

how things started:

~ Just few days before his birthday, sim B is feeling rebellious and wants to spend the best of his teenage days, even if that means breaking the curfew. So, he stayed out late with his friends to party and even went to the beach and lit some fireworks just before he go home. But, on his way home, the police patrol saw him! He knew he's so screwed, but what can he do? He plead with the cop, which happens to be Sim A, but she don't take any of his bullshit. Which eventually leads to some misunderstanding, fight and disliking each other. Guess the last of his teenage day is remarkable afterall, especially if you're being escorted back to your house in police car.

~ If things aren't already worst as they are, he, unfortunately, bumped with the same cop again when she joined the surfing/scuba diving club. Oh well, guess they have to see each other a lot now. Will this be the perfect summer as he imagined, or will it be totally ruined because of that one hot-headed cop?

traits:

childish, athletic, loves the sea

grumpy, natural cook, snob

skills:

Athletics, martial arts, logic

Diving/surfing/swimming, fishing, charming

jobs:

Police

Lifeguard/Scuba diver

misc:

pull booty traps and bicker

prank each other

activities:

scuba dive/surf together

play water balloon fight and pillow fight

throw a pool party and receive positive moodlets. you may do the following:

* Perform Fireworks Extravaganza (Having three large fireworks i.e. Golden Dragon/Facemelter) during party * Play in the sand * play and swim in the water together * skinny dip together

Try water balloon arena

Spend the summer festival together, join these activities and win Summer Festival Ticket:

* get holiday greeting card in photobooth * buy a snow cone * Get Face Painted * Skate together * Soccer Shootout * HotDog eating contest * Water Balloon Fights

date idea:

Beach date, skinny dip, windsurf, and go boating together, take pictures!

Compete in a bowling alley

Watch a live show performance

Watch a band performance

Recommended Mods:

Social Club Mod by @phoebejaysims

Surf's Up Sun & Fun Wave store content

SPRING

trope: distant childhood friends to lovers

backstory:

~ Sim A and Sim B where inseparable when they're kids. They spent afternoons playing video games, playing with their toys and painting together. But things changed when they entered High School. Sim B moved to a different part of town and became more distant as she found new circle of friends, and eventually, had a boyfriend. She thought it was forever! Only to find out that she's pregnant with someone who totally, totally dislikes children. So, she runaway from home and found herself back to the small apartment where she was raised, back to where sim A lives just next door.

~ Sim A was surprise to see Sim B again. He always wanted to make up and be friends with her again, but he always felt shy and small when he sees her with her new set of friend and popular boyfriend. Now that she's back, will he finally have the courage to talk to her again?

~ Moreover, can Sim B raised this child alone? And will she find comfort again with the boy next door?

traits:

artistic, dramatic, friendly

socially awkward, artistic, handy

skills:

handiness, inventing, video game

painting

activities:

play video games together

go to karaoke and have a duet

play hopscotch together

compete in darts

visit each other's house and chat

Attend Spring Festival/Love Day together and do the following activities:

* send love letters * Slow Dance during Spring Festival * Spring Dance Queen and Spring Dance King (optional) * Hunt eggs * Try kissing booths! * Try the Love tester machine * roller skate together * Play horseshoes together

sim A must make a portrait of the other

sim B must make a toy for sim A's child

misc:

they must be distant friends at start

let Sim A go to parenting classes

let sim B know about the pregnancy before they start dating

Date idea:

~ Park date, cook the dishes that you will bring, and watch the sunset/sunrise

~ Go to greenhouses and take pictures together in flower fields

~ Amusement park date

AUTUMN

trope: Second chance romance

backstory:

~ Sim A and Sim B are highschool sweethearts. They dreamed of living together and building their family when they were teens. They thought it was forever. But things took a drastic change when Sim B suddenly disappeared when his father died, leaving him to live with his mother in France, leaving sim B behind. Sim B never expected this, she never expected to bear a child with Sim A as well. She can't seem to find him anymore, but still, she decided that she will raise this child.

~ Years later, Sim B discovered that their child was sick and only had a few months left. Pile with grief, the kid is constantly looking for his/her father as well. Sim B doesn't want to let her child rest without seeing his/her father. So, again, she tried to look for him. And she found him! Turns out that he's now a rockstar in France, with a name and career. After knowing all of this, he quickly booked the ticket back to their town.

~ Will him coming back after years of disappearance mend their broken hearts and finally build the family they've dreamed? Or will they stay together just for the sake of their dying child?

traits:

green-thumb, nurturing, coward

virtuoso, charismatic, materialistic

skill:

Guitar, drums, bass, charming

Cooking, canning, gardening

job:

Music career: Rockstar

Gardener

activities:

take care and grow a plant together

catch butterflies and fireflies on the cottage

play in the pile of leaves

Attend Fall Festival together (with their child). Join in activities and actually have fun!

* Apple Bobbing contest * Pie Eating contest * Enter Haunted House

- Throw a costume or feast party during or before Spooky Time Holiday. You may do the following for the party:

* Plant and grow pumpkins ~ make Jack-o-lanterns, or; ~ bake pumpkin pies (or both) * wear costumes for the party * cook and bake the dishes for the party * Let their child do trick-or-treat

must spend time as a family every weekend together and go out of town

must teach the child and help with his/her homework

must accomplish every child's wish

must be a good parent to the child

Both must be best friends with their child

must not argue or fight in front of the child

the child may or may not die

misc:

sell harvestable or jams in the market

Sim B must play for tips on the park

optional woohoo spot:

woohoo in pile of leaves

date idea:

~ Coffee Date with just the two of you wearing couple outfits, take pictures!

~ Watch a horror movie together

~ Watch in theater

~ Go to a dive bar or lounge

recommended store content:

Canning Station (store content)

Produce Stand Mod

WINTER

trope: force cohabitation

backstory:

~ After getting tired of the big city, Sim A decides to travel, and he happens to land in this very town and rent in Sim B’s place. He’s a successful author, but he’s very shy and introverted and all the socialization and parties of the big city aren’t for him. He find this new town peaceful and gives him more inspiration to write. Perhaps, he can spend the winter holiday here, or will he decide to settle down in this quiet little town?

~ The death of her mother brings Sim B so much grief. Now that she’s just living on her own, she decides to open again their old bakery and let travelers rent her place. She’s a loner, more now that her mother, her only bestfriend died. Now she just spends her time baking and selling and knitting to ease her mind, will this new traveler who stays with her bring some color in her dull life?

traits:

shy, brooding, bookworm

loner, perfectionist, unlucky

skills:

Knitting, baking

Writing

job:

Author

Bakery Owner

misc:

- Hang Holiday Lights

- Buy a mistletoe

activities:

- must give gifts to each other

- Attend Winter Festival Together

~ Snowflake Day is held last Thursday of Winter ~ don't do any work. make sure to have positive moodlets and enjoy the festival. * Take greeting card photos * snowboard together * ice skate together

attend (or hold) a gift-giving party

* give gift to each other ~ gift idea: a book written by him, and a cloth knitted by her

make snowmen together

build an igloo together, sleep there

Make snow angels

Have snowball fights

Swim in cold water

kiss under the mistletoe before the season ends

optional:

the author can sell his book in the bakery itself, or make a mini library space (You can use this mod from nraas)

Sim B can sell the knitted products she did in the bakery

they must work together while the other is writing and the other is knitting

the author must finish at least 3 novels before winter ends

sim B must make at least 2000 simoleons from selling bake goodies

optional woohoo location:

woohoo in igloo

woohoo in sauna

date ideas:

~ go ice skating together, have some cup of cold choco, make snowmen and snow angels, take pictures!

~ have a sauna date!

~ watch a musical performance

~ Library date!

~ Spend sometime outside by the fire at night

recommended mods:

Knitting Mod

Savvier Seller Mod (for the bakery), or

SimState Business Mod, or;

The Merchant Mod by @anitmb

Baking Station (Store Content)

A useful thread on setting up a home bakery

notes:

i know that setting up a home business can be a bit complicated, so you can have 2 alternative options, 1) you can just purchase another community lot near your house and have the bakery there; or, 2) just drop the bakery all at once and you may find a different job for sim B.

ADD-ONS

Of course, this challenge wouldn't be as fun if you didn't share your gameplay and screenshots with the community! So, here are additional things that you can do for all rounds:

Take a screenshot of every activity that you did.

Pick your favorite memories and you may edit them as Polaroid pictures.

Make them do couple poses and take amazing photos of them together!

For each round/season that you finish, edit the photos that you had like a scrapbook, photo album or whatever creative idea you can think of.

Upload them and don't forget to put the hashtag #TS3SeasonsofLove and mention me so I can reblog it!

SLOWBURN ROMANCE EDITION

Now, if you’re like me who likes to take things slow, this rules are for you! You may or may not apply them, just an extra challenge for those who wants slower romance to this challenge.

You must only force up to only 10 romance interactions, the rest will be up to the sims autonomy and wishes

You can not force them to kiss and woohoo, it will only depend on the sims wish and/or autonomy

You can only force atleast 3 dates, the rest will be up to the sims autonomy/wish

This challenge is made by ann-ndsims. Huge thank you as well to @frostedshore for giving me the idea for the Summer prompt and helping me come up with ideas for this challenge💕 If you like to modify it, convert it or have some suggestions and/or mod recommendations, feel free to send me a message! Don’t forget to mention me if you do this challenge and use the hashtag #TS3SeasonsofLove, I would love to see other simmers enjoy this little challenge that I made. Enjoy and happy simming!

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cailynwrites · 5 months ago

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In doing my HP Birthday podfic extravaganza of 47 unique pods last year (see the whole collection HERE), I came across quite a lot of rare pairs. I'm an equal opportunity shipper and variety truly is the spice of life, so I wanted to share some of my fave rare pairs that I read last year. In Part 1, I will share some rare pairs that I read or listened to and in Part 2, I will share some rare pairs that I podded myself. Enjoy!

Part 1, in alphabetical order, below the break ...

dispersion point by SchrodingersHalfling, podfic by ambivalently_certain (G, 5k, 40 minutes, Harry x Ron)

“Harry, when it happened… I was thinking of you.” Harry swallows thickly. Sometime in the future Ron gets hit with some unknown magic and with no way of knowing he would survive, his last though had been of Harry. It makes him wonder what Ron had been about to say in the forest. (or, Harry has known Ron his entire life; it doesn't change much, but it's enough that he's there)

The Favourite by @mallstars (E, 17k, Draco x Harry x Ron)

On a throne of glitzing clutter, Draco Malfoy sits like a degenerate prince. His robes are the colour of sour champagne, celestial patterns stitched across the sweeping silk where it drapes over sharp shoulders and cradles a spindly waist. A rain of glitter dangles from one of his ears, and his expression is nauseating. The curl of his lip, the upturn of his pompous nose. Draco is a criminal. Harry and Ron are the Aurors who arrest him.

Hear Me Out by @rainstormradish (E, 5k, Draco x Harry x Ron)

“I know this is all just a big joke to you,” whispered Draco, his lips inches from Ron’s ear, his breath on his neck, his hips pressed against him, Merlin, “but I need you to fucking commit to the bit here, Ron.”

ink and paper prayers by @kitsunerei88, podfic by @juuls (T, 11k, 1.5 hours, Cedric x Cho)

It’s OWL year, and Cho Chang has too many things on her mind. She needs top grades, especially because she didn’t make prefect, and no Quidditch this year only means one less thing that can go on her Healer applications. On top of that, she has her traditional Chinese paper magic exams in the summer, and therefore absolutely no time for bullshit. Enter Cedric Diggory: seventh-year, Hufflepuff prefect, and Triwizard Champion.

Lost and Found by @jetainia, podfic by JocundaSykes (G, 2k, 13 minutes, Kingsley x Sirius)

Despite losing the one thing that could lead them to each other, they still managed to come together.

Molly Weasley and the Second Cousin by ZebJeb, podfic by TheLastVoice (T, 2k, 17 minutes, Arthur x Molly)

Molly's children do not know much about her second cousin, besides him being an accountant or something. She has a good reason to keep her family in the dark.

Ron Weasley and the Clothes of Doom by Liesha130 (E, 33k, Blaise x Ron)

Do the clothes make the man? Ron Weasley thinks he has no chance, until one night when he dresses up and Blaise Zabini can’t take his eyes off him. The solution is easy, then, right? Ron just has to keep dressing up, and Blaise will keep wanting him. But every time Ron puts the new clothes on, he’s sent spiraling off into a past filled with insecurity. Will he really be able to keep this up without going completely bonkers? And what does Blaise actually want from him, anyway?

The Taste of Țuică by @fluxweeed, podfic by @lastontheboat (E, 15k, 1.5 hours, Draco x Harry x Ron)

It’s quite one thing for your best mate to casually tell you about all the sex his boyfriend wants to have. It’s altogether another to have him bring up the time you snogged him in a shitty Central London park.

Vigil by kelly_chambliss, podfic by JocundaSykes (T, 4k, 25 minutes, Minerva x Severus)

On the night after the Battle of Hogwarts, Filius and Minerva sit with Severus.

why not both by varnes, podfic by @blackestglass (M, 14k, 2 hours, Hermione x Ron x Viktor)

“Small baby,” Krum diagnosed, sounding delighted by this. “World too big, yes? Wants back in small, warm place, yes?” Ron realized that he was holding his breath. He glanced over at Hermione, who was looking at Krum like she was definitely, absolutely going to leave Ron for him, and honestly, at this moment, Ron felt that was fair. Ron was going to leave himself for Krum. Ron was going to rob all the banks in the world to get Viktor Krum back his money as long as it meant he’d keep their beautiful, perfect, angelic monster of a screaming baby quiet. “I want to be in a small, warm place,” Hermione muttered, and then squeaked a little realizing she’d said it out loud. Rose giggled. “Shidole,” she whispered, looking pleased and interested, smacking at Krum’s chest. “Rose, don’t call our guests shitholes,” Hermione scolded, and then said, “Viktor, you can stay as long as you like.” - Or: The Ron/Hermione/Krum fic that absolutely nobody was hankering for in the year of our Lord 2020.

BONUS CROSSOVER - I'm not usually a fan of crossovers, but this one is particularly adorable.

Fireworks by @copperbadge, podfic by @tinypinkmouse (T, 2k, 15 minutes, Remus (HP) x Angua (Discworld))

Remus Lupin gets a little lost in the Discworld, and meets someone who really gets him.

#hp rarepair #rarepair podfic #hp rare pair #cailynwrites recs #ronarry #harry x ron #dronarry #draco x harry x ron #cedric x cho #kingsley x sirius #arthur x molly #blaise x ron #minerva x severus #hermione x ron x viktor #romione + viktor #discworld

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bucksbelly · 2 years ago

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HP Rec Fest - Part 1 (Days 1-16)

Boy, has it been a moment since I've gone through my fanfic bookmarks. Thankful that @hprecfest has given me a reason to do so and rediscover some old gems!

Anyways making this list made me realize that I'm a connoisseur of explicit content so most of these are smutty and I'll leave that up to you to decide whether that's good or bad

(These are almost exclusively post-war fics where everyone is an adult, unless otherwise stated!)

1. A favorite fic under 5k: If We Lie Like This by everythingokay

(Harry x Charlie Weasley, rated E, 4.1k)

Harry/Charlie is one of my absolute favorite ships of all time, and this is one of the sweetest pwps I've ever read of them, so you know this had to be my first rec.

2. A comfort fic: Lumos by birdsofshore

(Drarry, rated E, 41.5k)

This is one of my oldest bookmarks, and still one of the best. I love, love, love eighth year fics, in no small part because of this one. The summary really says it all:

"Harry never expected to spend eighth year listening to Draco Malfoy wanking."

3. A podfic

I've truly never listened to a podfic in my life, I just prefer reading I'm sorry

4. A fic with art: What Have You Been Hiding Under Those Robes, Professor Malfoy? by Booktopus

(Drarry, Rated E, 15k - art is NSFW!)

Finding art in my fics is such a rare, exciting surprise, especially because I rarely go looking for them. Now, a GIF? And a smutty gif at that? Of tattooed professor Draco? What. A. Find.

5. A non-AO3 fic: The Lust of Gryffindors by Fearful Porpentine

(Harmione + so many pairings/groupings, rated M, 381.5k, aged-up during canon)

Yeah, I'm pretty much exclusively an AO3 girlie, so I don't have many options for this one. Still, this is a standout as one of my favorite smutty extravaganzas.

6. An unreliable narrator fic: Touch by bixgirl1

(Drarry, Rated E, 45k)

I had this fic on my TBR for so long before I actually read it, and when I finally did, I was KICKING myself for waiting so long! I love touch-starved characters finally getting what they need (is it self-fulfilling? perhaps), and I never thought a sleep-deprived Harry could be so funny.

(I'm aware this is an unreliable narrator in the loosest sense of the word but I'm sticking with it because it NEEDS to be recced)

7. A canon-compliant fic: With the Edges Worn Down by MayatheBee

(Harry x Ron x Hermione, rated E, 13k)

By "canon-compliant," we mean "takes place so far in the future that canon can't disprove it," right?

If so, then here's my pick. After Ginny's death, Ron and Hermione decide to finally act on feelings that have been ignored for their entire friendship. It is so, so sweet and so, so hot.

8. A canon-divergence fic: Safe Word is Devil's Snare by ShayaLonnie

(Neville x Hermione, rated E, 97k)

Hot Neville Agenda? Hot Neville Agenda.

Neville is fast becoming one of my favorite characters in fic (both in reading and writing). I'm a sucker for him growing into his self-confidence after the war while still being the same loveable plant guy we know. And a forced marriage with hyper-competent Hermione? Get ready for the spice, y'all.

9. A rare pair fic: 93 Diagon Alley by Schmem_14

(Harry x George, rated M, 30k)

I'm quickly realizing that most of the fic I consume (outside of drarry) is rare pairs, but this is one of the best. Harry and George leaning on each other through their grief, and realizing what they need to get through said grief is, in fact, each other? Sign me up. I usually avoid stories that feature Fred's death as a significant plot point, but this is too well done to ignore.

10. A fest fic: Beware: Naked People Ahead by SonnenFlower

(Lots of pairings, rated M, 6.6k)

I’m recommending this fic not only because of the absolute hilarity of the premise, but because it is a part of one of the best fests I’ve ever come across — the Hermione’s Nook Naked Weasley Fest! This fic had me laughing the whole way through (and crying when I wasn’t.)

11. A dark fic: Whore by orphan_account

(Harry x Fred x George + noncon, etc, rated E, 141.6k, takes place during canon)

Listen, I don't read dark fics very often. They tend to crush my soul and spin me out. This is my "I want to hurt" fic — SO MIND THE TAGS.

12. A WIP you're following: New Blood by artemisgirl

(Pairings still evolving, rated M, currently 1.3 million words, takes place during canon)

As a general rule, I don't read many in-progress fics (this is a personal fault because I get too impatient and invested). But when I started this fic, it had over 1 million words and didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon, so I took the plunge. It features a Slytherin, overpowered, badass Hermione, deep fae/wix lore, and a unique twist on all our favorite characters!

13. A fic with over 100k words: Finding Sophrosyne by mlfoyskhione

(Drarry, rated T, 136.5k)

An eighth year fic where everyone in Hogwarts falls into an unwakeable sleep...except Draco and Harry. Absolutely delectable.

14. A favorite series: Harry Potter & Seven Years of Chaos by Severitus812

(Harry x Fred + Severitus, unrated, 1+ million words; takes place during canon)

When I started this fic, the first six parts were published and part of the seventh. I DEVOURED them in a week, and I still haven't gotten around to finishing it because I'm positive it's going to break my heart. Still, an absolute beast of a story that is so, so fun to experience!

15. The most recent fic you bookmarked: The Best Laid Plans by Drarrymadhatter

(Drarry, Draco x George, Harry x Fred, rated E, 6.6k)

Okay, I’ve bookmarked entirely too many fics since the start of this fest, so to avoid repeats, I’m recommending the last fic I bookmarked BEFORE then. Based on my url, it couldn’t be more perfect — Draco, George, Harry, AND Fred? Absolute perfection. Sexy, sexy perfection.

16. A fic that made you laugh: I WANNA SEE SOME ARSE by thefrancakes

(NottPott, rated E, 10.5k)

From the title of this fic through the end of it, I was laughing. And where I wasn’t, I was fanning myself because. Hot. Damn. I’d never shipped Harry and Theo Nott until reading this.

So many excellent fics here...and yet I'm even MORE excited about the next set of prompts! Until then!

#hprecfest2023 #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #charlie weasley #george weasley #fred weasley #neville longbottom #hermione granger #ron weasley #theodore nott #ao3 #fanfic

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hprarepairshorts · 2 years ago

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Announcing Winter Prompt Extravaganza 2023!

We are pleased to announce the RPS Winter Prompt Extravaganza! For December, January, and February, we will provide daily prompts to inspire all your wintry rare pair creations.

You may use the prompts however you choose. If you want to challenge yourself, write a few words a day for the daily prompt. But if you want to opt for a more lax approach, the prompts don’t need to be posted in order or even posted on the assigned day. You can combine them into one creation for a rare pair, or post separate prompts for separate pairings.

Like always, the rules are to keep your creations under 2000 words and avoid using the banned pairings.

Please post your creations to the AO3 collection. Posting to Dreamwidth/Tumblr is optional.

Below are the 31 prompts for December. Happy Creating!

1. Decorating

2. Fireside

3. Snowstorm/blizzard

4. Baking

5. Sledding

6. Time-traveling for Christmas

7. Hanging Christmas lights

8. Secret Santa

9. Brightening a stranger's day

10. Christmas tree

11. Making amends

12. Reindeer

13. Cozying up in a remote cabin

14. Caroling

15. Elves

17. Wizarding holiday traditions

18. Train ride

19. The magic of Christmas

16. Owl post

20. Window shopping

21. Christmas at Hogwarts

22. Warming up from the cold

23. Holiday parties

24. Snowball fights

25. Presents

26. Boxing Day

27. Spreading the holiday cheer

28. Remembering/mourning past loved ones

29. Mistletoe

30. Reunions

31. New Year's Eve

#hp fests #hp rare pair

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1863-project · 2 years ago

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NJ Transit 40th Anniversary Weekend Extravaganza!

Pay your engineers and give them a contract.

Okay, now that that's out of the way...

This weekend I got to spend some time with my dad aboard NJT's 40th Anniversary Express, a special train they put together in conjunction with the United Railroad Historical Society of New Jersey to commemorate 40 years of NJT's rail service. Normally I'd have just been content to watch, but they hooked me with a GG1 reference so naturally I had to go because I will do anything for a GG1.

The URHS of NJ loaned the Hickory Creek out for the event, along with a few other passenger cars they own. It was weird to see it at Penn Station instead of in Grand Central Terminal, but they still rolled out the red carpet for it as if it was attached to the 20th Century Limited. (This is where we get the phrase "red carpet treatment" from, by the way. It has nothing to do with Hollywood and everything to do with one crack passenger express train.)

I did not ride in the Hickory Creek itself because I do not have that sort of money, but Dad and I were in the Tavern Lounge No. 43, another New York Central car. It was a lovely ride.

The highlight of the trip was in South Amboy. Historically, electrification of the North Jersey Coast Line ended here. Today, it ends in Long Branch. Here's where the GG1s come in. There would be an engine change at South Amboy. The GG1s, electric locomotives, would be switched out for other locomotives to go further south. It was steam at first, and sadly became diesel later. Yesterday, they recreated this engine switch for us, complete with an NJT heritage unit painted to look like a GG1. This is the closest I'll likely get to seeing one running within my lifetime, so I'll cherish it.

The engine change. NJT 4636 stood in for my beloved GG1s, and two of the first locomotives built for NJ Transit, a pair of F40-PH2s (4119 and 4120), took over. You rarely see the latter in passenger service these days because they usually pull work trains, but they're the last two members of their class in NJT service.

Much to everyone's delight, we got to watch some brakeman work in action, because they manually flipped the switches. Note the heavy-duty gloves the conductor is wearing for this purpose.

It takes quite a bit of setup...

All clear!

Once the locomotives were swapped, we all boarded again and went on down to Bay Head. Since it was cold and rainy out, a few of us had some hot chocolate, which hit the spot and was incredibly wonderful.

Eventually, we made it to Bay Head. This is how I found out the president of NJ Transit was on the train with us, because the NJT engineers are ready to strike because there's no contract right now, and a group of them were protesting down at Bay Head because they knew he'd have to see them. Excellent move.

At Bay Head, we got to go around the loop in Bay Head Yard, something passengers don't normally get to do.

So we had views that most people don't get to have, and that was really cool.

At Bay Head, they fed us and gave us NJT swag. There were also some vintage buses from Public Service there, which was great because nobody stopped me from getting into the driver's seat of them.

My right hand is on the gearshift in this photo - it was huge and came out of the floor. Neither bus had power steering - that's a relatively new feature in motor vehicles.

I can and will attempt to drive anything.

Back to trains - after lunch, everyone got back aboard and the 40th Anniversary Express made its way back up north to Newark Penn Station. Whilst we were at Newark, we were allowed to get out and take some photos, so I investigated the staff car and was delighted to see that it had a conference table with a PRR K4 pictured above it.

You know me, I love my 4-6-2 Pacifics.

Eventually, the train came into Hoboken Terminal, and that was the end of day one.

Today, the entire heritage fleet was on display at Hoboken Terminal, so I made my way back for more photos.

I love GG1s and wanted to thank my new friend for giving me the opportunity to come so close to that experience yesterday.

4101 and 4109 are the surviving sisters of NJT 4100, a locomotive I'm rather attached to. It was nice to get good photos of them instead of the ones I usually have to snap through the window when I'm actually out on the rails!

Erie-Lackawanna 3372 is a labor of love for the URHS of NJ. They've done a beautiful job restoring her so far, but there's still a lot of work left to do.

The thing that really did me in was this old Pennsy diesel here, an E8A numbered 5711. She's in incredible condition for something built in 1952, and they had a cast of an old Penn Station eagle next to her, too, just to break my heart into a million pieces because I'll never be over what happened to Penn Station.

In all, I had an amazing weekend, and NJT and the URHS of NJ knocked it out of the park with this. It was just wonderful to be surrounded by other railfans for a couple of days.

Some other highlights:

Talked about trains the entire ride with the folks in our car. At one point we all got to sharing cat photos. An older couple had a cat named Lake, short for Lake Shore Limited. I cannot tell you how much that delighted me.

I love being around other railfans. It's one of the rare places I can be myself, since there's inevitably going to be a lot of other autistic people there besides me so I don't have to mask. I cannot even begin to articulate what it means to me to be in a place where I don't have to mask.

The hobby has actually changed a lot since I was a little kid - and in a good way. I wasn't the only woman there, for one. I was still greatly outnumbered gender-wise, but there are a lot more women in the hobby now, and it's also a lot more racially diverse than it was back then. Additionally, I saw a LOT of young people - it's going strong! It doesn't feel like it's being gatekept by the old white men anymore. It's really wonderful. Trains are for everyone. They always were, but now you can visibly see it.

When we were on the platform at South Amboy getting set up to take photos, someone yelled "Everybody smile!" behind me and I nearly died. Because, you know:

Whoever you are, give me your phone number.

As a final addendum, of course I brought them with me, as per usual when I go out to do railroading stuff. Here they are seated in Tavern Lounge 43!

This was just an absolute banger of a weekend and I hope more events like this happen because it's so fun to engage with history hands-on and see other people who care about it as much as you do. It's the best! Perfect!

#I like trains #NJT #NJ Transit #New Jersey Transit #also tangentially #Pokemon #Submas

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imma-dragon · 2 years ago

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Octavia X Henrietta (WLW sickfic)

Word count: 2.7k

It was a blase October day; rainy and slightly foggy out. The wind was sharp and cold, dropping the overall temperature by at least ten degrees. It was all anyone could do, with the worsening weather, to not catch some sort of bug. It was going around the office like wildfire. Some had mild symptoms; a runny nose, a sore throat, or even none at all. Take, for example, Henrietta Davis. The office mom. She had wonderfully poofy, curly hair that went just above her shoulders. The natural honey blonde hue and freckled ivory skin earned her a lifetime of goldilocks jokes, but she just let them slide. She had a kind smile and a warm personality. She was the caretaker. The one to remember things such as birthdays and allergies when nobody else was bothered to. Unlike some in the office, Henrietta considered herself an open book; she would always say she’s got nothing to hide. But there was one thing nobody could figure out. Throughout every flu season and mid-summer cold extravaganza, almost every employee fell victim to whatever ailment made itself prevalent in the town– except for Henrietta. She liked to joke that germs just naturally avoided her out of respect.

But others weren’t so fortunate. Those ‘others’ in particular being one Octavia Reynolds. Her deep brown skin paired beautifully with her maple-coloured eyes, making her a force to be reckoned with. She had such a potential to be quite popular, if she wanted. But things…didn’t really work that way. Similar to Henrietta, she rarely showed any symptoms. Maybe the sniffles, a light cough. But nothing too extreme. She was, in her humble opinion, just too cool for the germs to touch her.

Several employees stood around the only working water cooler in the place, just gossiping as you’d expect. One leaned in, a cocked eyebrow and a smug smirk.

“You all coming to the bar tonight?”

Everyone in the circle agreed.

“You think anyone’s going to beat Octavia tonight?”

A man scoffed, shaking his head.

“She may be a bitch, but she’s damn good at pool. I don’t think anyone could beat her.”

“I think that’s the only reason she stays in this crap hole. Just to rub it in our faces every week.”

The first woman added on, a bitter shake of her head. They would’ve continued talking, but the woman of the hour showed up.

Octavia had on one of those scowls that meant business. She said all she needed to without saying a word. She didn’t need to. It was all over her face. Everyone previously surrounding the cooler moved, as if the red sea parting for Moses. Octavia moved with purpose; not a single sway of her hips or crack of her knuckles were frivolous. She meant business. Even if it were just for something as small as getting a cup of water.

Normally, Octavia was as silent as a mouse. Her footsteps rivalled that of a feather in the wind. She was frequently startling her coworkers with the swiftness of her movements. But not today. Her steps fell heavy, and you could hear an occasional congested sniffle coming from the woman whilst she waited for the bottle to fill up.

She was simply getting water to warm up. For tea. It was embarrassing. Luckily, nobody dared question her as she walked away, rubbing at her nose as soon as she was out of sight. It didn’t help, unfortunately, as just a moment later,

“K’huttsu! Hh-httsh!”

She sighed impatiently. This was already getting annoying. Octavia sniffled harshly, exhaling through her mouth. It wasn’t like she could breathe much through her nose anyway.’ God, what elementary bullshit.’, she thought to herself, pouring the water into a kettle and rummaging through the cupboards for any resemblance of good tea.

Luckily, there was a small packet of blueberry tea left over from…god knows where. But Octavia was desperate for any sort of remedy to soothe this…gunk she had in her system. After all, she still had a few hours before it was time to go home. Just as she started the kettle, her thoughts were interrupted. Quite suddenly, too.

“Bless you! Are you feeling okay, Octavia? I know there’s a bit of a bug going around.”

Octavia cringed, cursing under her breath. Of course it had to be Little Miss Perfect to find her in this state. Octavia wiped at her nose with the edge of her sleeve, turning a little with the same scowl on her face, but even more displeased, knowing that Henrietta definitely saw what just happened.

“I’m fine. Mind your business.”

She turned back around, hoping that was the end of the conversation.

“Oh..well… if you want, I have some Cold & Flu meds in my desk drawer… I keep it stocked during times like these.”

Henrietta offered a bright smile, even though it was to Octavia’s back. Octavia could just hear the smile in her voice. How frustrating.

“I said, I’m- hhih!- f-fine.”

Octavia pressed the back of her wrist to her nose, aggressively quelling the itch that suddenly made itself known. What an inconvenience.

Henrietta pursed her lips momentarily, looking over Octavia’s shoulder.

“You’re making tea? I love tea. It’s always good on a rainy day like this. My favourite type of tea is-”

“Hh’ttshu! E’tshoo!”

“Oh-! Bless you again. You’re…sure you’re alright?” She asked again, sounding a little dubious. Octavia kept silent, nodding. Only a small sniffle could be heard. She wasn’t fine. Octavia felt like shit. She knew she was burning up, her throat hurt like hell, and whatever the hell was happening with her sinuses was just the icing on top.

Just as Henrietta was about to continue with what would surely be an incredibly boring lecture about health and safety, the kettle whistled.

‘Saved by the kettle…’ Octavia thought derisively, rolling her eyes to herself and picking up the kettle off the stove and pouring it into the mug next to it. Steam billowed up from the hot drink, making her nose run. She sniffled, running the edge of her sleeve under her nose again. It was damp from the day’s events. Mainly doing exactly what she just did. Getting a box of tissues would be like shouting from the rooftops that she was sick. And Octavia Reynolds did not get sick.

She turned, half leaning against the countertops as she sipped her tea. Henrietta raised an eyebrow. Octavia just looked sick…The half-lidded eyes, the slightly pink nose…it all didn’t bode well for Octavia’s case.

“Let me go and grab that cold medication…I’m sure you’ll feel a lot better, really!”

Most would have jumped at the offer. Whether it was because she was just a good caretaker, or really just being taken advantage of, was anybody’s guess.

“I don’t. Need. your pity.”

Octavia growled, sipping from the mug and looking just past Henrietta, as if off in the distance. She was thinking about the blissful sleep she’ll get as soon as the work day’s over. Octavia completely forgot about the weekly bar night the office held.

Henrietta smiled sadly at Octavia.

“Oh, come on, Octavia. You don’t look well–”

“You sayin’ I’m ugly?”

She snapped, her sniffles increasing in frequency. Henrietta’s eyes widened.

“Oh-oh no! Not at all! You’re- you’re quite pretty….actually..”

If Octavia was paying attention, she’d notice that a blush crept up Henrietta’s neck, creeping up onto her cheeks. How embarrassing. Octavia just shook her head, pushing past her and out of the kitchen. A couple of muffled sneezes could be heard from the other room. Henrietta just sighed and shook her head. There was just no getting through to her.

Henrietta returned to her desk and continued her work, but at a slower pace than normal. But it wasn’t her fault! Octavia never returned to her desk after their little interaction… That’s it!

Henrietta stood back up, collecting a couple bottles of cold medicine, some tea, and a couple of soup cans and saltines in a small bag. She deposited it off at Octavia’s desk and waited. And waited. And… waited.

Almost two hours later, Octavia still hadn’t been seen. Henrietta was beginning to get really worried! She stood up, walking out of the bullpen and down the hall, where a few conference rooms sat.

She was beginning to think it was a dead end, looking down here was a mistake. That was, until a giant, congested sneeze came from the only room she hadn’t examined yet. Then another. Then a sickly noseblow. Henrietta cringed at the sound. Yikes… that did not sound good. She approached the door, knocking gently and peeking her head in. What met her sights was not a promising one.

Octavia had paled quite a bit, her nose looked constantly runny, and she was slumped against the table. The light of her laptop only illuminated the bags under her eyes and the fatigue written all over her face.

“Oh, Octavia, hun.”

She said sympathetically, sitting down next to Octavia, who immediately sat up. Sluggish, but quick, nonetheless. With a congested sniffle, she rubbed the sleep out of her face.

“Mmm…what do you want…”

Octavia stretched, groaning quietly. Henrietta reached out a hand to put on Octavia’s shoulder, but Octavia pulled away, stifling two snotty-sounding sneezes into her wrist.

“H’Kutshh! H’eettssh!”

Henrietta pulled back, a little surprised.

“Oh- bless you.” She looked a little pensive, choosing her next words carefully. “Do you… need to go home?” She asked gently, as Octavia, (somehow, grumpily), blew her nose, a sick, gurgling sound escaping her.

“Ndo…Go away…” Octavia grouched, too tired to even properly insult Henrietta right now.

Henrietta was not convinced. She leaned forward, shutting the laptop.

“Or we can pack up…go home and get some rest?”

Octavia snatched back the laptop, shaking her head.

“Stop- I’b fide.” She insisted, sniffling and rubbing the palm of her hand against her reddening nose. Octavia stood up, though slightly swaying, and pushed past Henrietta again.

“Oh! Uhm- or - or maybe, you know–” She looked around, spotting a clock hanging off the wall. “It’s almost time to go home…you could just sit and wait for the day to be over?”

She knew that her propositions fell on deaf ears as Octavia walked out of the room. Her head felt like it was full of cotton, and her nose felt just as plugged. She was borderline mouth breathing at this point, and she didn’t even care. Octavia left Henrietta in the doorway of the conference room, watching as Octavia stumbled away.

She shook her head, sighing. Maybe this was a matter better left alone…

A couple hours later, the work day was done, and all of the employees filed out, each headed to the local bar for a few drinks and games. The most popular one was a simple game of pool. For months now, Octavia was the reigning champion. Nobody could beat her, despite their best efforts.

But, as it seemed tonight, Octavia wasn’t up to the task. As soon as she got to the bar she grabbed a beer and started drinking, alone, in a corner booth. She watched as her coworkers laughed and mingled about, played darts, watched football, and made stupid little drunken bets throughout the night. Nobody ever really came up to Octavia during these outings. And she was generally fine with that. Especially today. Everybody avoided her especially today, except one brave soul who asked her if she was competing today in pool; to which she hastily snapped that she wasn’t, and stalked off to get another drink.

Drowsy and now tipsy, Octavia sat alone, contemplating whether or not she should go home before she gets too drunk, sleep whatever this is off before tomorrow. She lurched forward , for what felt like the millionth time tonight, cupping her hands over her mouth.

“H’kittsh! E’kkktshu! Heh-Hettch!”

Her hand dropped immediately, and she leaned back against the wooden back of the booth. She ran out of bar napkins in the nearby vicinity to use, so she resorted to the heel of her palm, rubbing at her itchy nose. The alcohol didn’t help with the sneezing, either. Octavia sighed, resting her head in her hand, letting her eyes close for just a moment. Was she drunk? Perhaps. Too sick to stay awake? Entirely probable.

From across the bar, Henrietta was in a large circle of her coworkers, laughing and watching them all drink themselves silly. Henrietta and a couple others were usually the designated drivers, just to keep everyone safer.

But this time, things were a little different.

Henrietta had been watching the other woman from across the bar all night. Sneezing and drinking seemed to be the activity of the night for poor Octavia. When she gave up and just closed her eyes, Henrietta decided it was probably time to check up on Octavia again.

She grabbed a glass of water and hauled herself over to the booth, sitting next to Octavia, who didn’t even bother to look over at Henrietta.

“Hey, Octavia. Fun night so far?”

She asked, sliding the water over to the other woman. Octavia just sniffled again, sounding terribly congested… Henrietta fished through her purse, pulling out a little to-go package of kleenex. She came prepared, opening it and offering a tissue over to Octavia. She had to nudge the woman’s arm to get her attention.

Octavia sluggishly looked down at the tissues, then back at Henrietta with a confused expression. She didn’t take a tissue. Instead, she leaned closer towards Henrietta with a sly grin on her face.

“You’re pretty…why don’t you have a boyfriend yet, hmm…?” She asked, her words slightly slurred. She sniffled again, rubbing her nose in an attempt to quell the itch. She was always more sensitive to alcohol’s effect than most. “Like…hhihh- what’s thHhih-the d-deal?” Octavia continued, a terrible itch taking over her senses for a torturous few seconds before, “Hhh’Tshh! K’iitshew! E’Eettshhu!” She snuffled wetly, giving in and taking the tissue, grateful for the softer fabric of the tissues compared to the bar napkins, as she blew her nose. It didn’t do much except create a sad, snotty gurgling sound.

Henrietta’s eyes widened, blushing a little. “Uhm…I’m not…I don’t want a boyfriend…” She trailed off quietly. While she was advertised as an open book, there was one thing she seldom shared in her professional life; Henrietta Davis was a lesbian. She always knew she was. But nobody else did. Not even her family.

Octavia frowned at Henrietta. “Whaatttt? You’re so pretty…and nice– I - I know so many guys, in the- in the office… they’d looooove to jump those bones-” She had a mischievous grin on her face, waving her finger in an up-down motion, while Henrietta’s blush only increased.

“I- uhm…” She looked around, making sure nobody was looking at them. “Octavia- I’m…I’m gay..”

Henrietta scrunched her eyes shut, prepared for the worst. She was fully expecting the other woman to react negatively. Throw water in her face, yell, something. But no. there was just silence. She slowly opened her eyes, surprised by the warm smile that was on Octavia’s face.

“So you’re telling me…” Octavia started, scooting a little closer to Henrietta, “That I actually have a chance?”

She leaned forward, surprising Henrietta with an, admittedly sloppy, kiss. It set off fireworks in her, until she came to her senses and pulled back. Wistfully, she looked down at Octavia.

“You’ve been drinking, Octavia…” Henrietta murmured, a hand on the other woman’s cheek.

Octavia’s face was flushed with a light pink; whether that was from the illness, alcohol, or from the situation at hand, it was anyone’s guess.

“And?” She sniffled, bringing her hand up to her nose again, lurching forward. It was so sudden, she barely had time to cover it up, and some of it landed gently on Henrietta’s arm.

“H’uttshuu! Ee’etssh! Sorry-”

“You’re also sick. You need some rest, hun. Not a one night stand with a coworker.” She laughs softly, her voice dipping to a low tone, “As much fun as that would be…” Octavia noisily blew her nose as Henrietta talked.

“How about I drive you home, get you better, and then we could talk, okay? You look exhausted, dear.”

Octavia sniffled, letting her shoulders drop a little. She was exhausted. Today had been a long day, trying to act like she was fine. She eventually nodded in agreement and Henrietta smiled, happy to have finally won her over.

“Let’s go.” And with that, the two left the bar together, unknowingly marking the beginning of what would become a lifelong relationship.

#wlw #gay #lesbian #sickfic #snzfic #snzfics #snzfucker #wlw sickfic #wlw snzfic

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