#all i ask is that it’s a one word prompt… or a group of one word prompts

[carpenoctxrn]

a bait, a hoax, a challenge (ominis gaunt x fem!reader)

Prompt: Ominis bets his girlfriend can’t go a week without his touch and she accepts with full intentions of winning.

Word Count: 6327

Disclaimer: The characters are close to 19 and in 7th year at Hogwarts. Has smut. I have read smut starting at age 13 so I’ll say please be mindful of the material you consume. also a lot of grammar errors, not proof read.

PSA: p in v, fingering, squirting, cockdrunk reader, fucked dumb Ominis, pregnancy mentions, boob job, giving head, unprotected sex, no spoilers for the plot, very little plot tbh, if you squint you'll see I am currently ovulating.

A/n: I despise J.K Rowling for what she stands for especially regarding her transphobic and sexist comments/ views. this work isnt to endorse her in any kind of way and is just a outlet for my writing. I bought the game for $18 a month ago and Ominis left an impression on me.

---

“I bet you couldn’t last a week without me.” Ominis’s smirk was almost audible to the girl below. She couldn’t see his face but she could just feel it. The challenge was a hoax, a bait, a dumb bet that really didn’t matter at the end of the day. But it was the way he said it. The taunt in his voice, the pride in his tone. It was all enough for her to take the challenge, and she fully intended on winning it.

That was yesterday half way during dinner, when she had snuck away with Ominis to the boat house. The gentle noise of water lapping at the wooden planks below them was enough to lull them into their own world where the only people who existed was the person in front of them. She doesn't remember if that's how it went but she was too tired and too giddy to care.

Today was a different day. It was breakfast and most students, except those who skipped breakfast, were in the great hall. Some were studying for their next class, some were trying to stay awake, and most were eating. Then there was the couple who were ignoring each other. Usually it would happen after a break up but this time it was between a very promising couple.

Ominis’s beautiful girlfriend was currently seated with her group of friends at the Gryffindor table. Natsai was pleasantly chatting and talking about her most recent grazing adventures. While on the other side of the room sat Ominis himself, his only friend Sebastian talking his ear off about every single thing that comes to his mind.

“Well, well, well…look what the cat dragged in.” Said the Scottish accent of Imelda Reyes. She sat down next to Natsai as her elbows supported the weight of her head in her arms. 

“Trouble in paradise, I see.” Imelda poked as she leaned in closer. 

Before Ominis sweet little darling said anything to direct the attention away from her, Poppy Sweeting came in and sat right next to the girl.

“What are we talking about, guys?” Poppy asked as she picked up an apple from a nearby bowl and began munching on it. 

Expecting her breakfast with a side of gossip.

“Just the obvious, why little Mrs. Gaunt isn’t sitting right next to Mr. Gaunt.” Imelda clarified as she stared intently at the girl she directed all her jabs at.

“Oooh yeah! Why is that Mrs. Gaunt?” Poppy asked innocently as she continued biting into her apple.

The poor girl looked at Natty hoping she would bring sense to their friend group however she just shrugged before saying a “Even I am curious, why aren’t you sitting next to Mr. Gaunt, Mrs. Gaunt?” 

‘Mrs. Gaunt’ groaned at her friend's persistent nature but decided that they were the ones who she would have told the entire bet about anyways. And if she didn't tell them today, she would have told them by tomorrow.

“Fine, but if word of this gets out, I will personally write a letter to Leander Prewett to inform him that not only all three of you stole his underwear last year but that you all use it to get off.” She threatened the three girls. 

It was a dare that the three girls lost against Y/n, and she dared all of them to go grab Leander’s dirty underwear. Unfortunately for the girls, practice ended early and they were caught brown handed by Leander himself.

“Oh, it's that serious.” Natty said with a smile, knowing whatever she was to tell them was definitely juicy.

“Ominis and I made a bet,” She started off, “of who can last a whole week without each other.” Her words emphasizing ‘without’ hoping that they understood the implication to be as indecent without her having to say the crude word out in public.

“Without as in platonically or without as in the mommy and daddies are?” Imelda asked with a smirk, loving how red her friend looked.

“Ohhhh..” Poppy and Natty said as they understood that bet was based around lewd acts. 

Sure, their friend would often share her dalliance with her perfect boyfriend but she was still a bit shy about it. Her red ears and cheeks were giving her away as she avoided eye contact while downing some strawberry lemonade.

The three giggled at her friend's predicament knowing that she is completely enamored by her boyfriend. So in all honesty they had very little faith in her.

“So how did it happen?” Natty asked genuinely wondering what could have led to such a bet being placed.

“Well….” The girl blushing red started off making sure to keep her voice as quiet as possible.

Ominis had long forgone his tie as his pretty girlfriend sat in his lap kissing him like a mad woman. Her lips trapped his own in a hot sopping kiss; her hands were on his neck or on his chest, while her body was grinding down on a very hard and prominent bulge.

“Please Omi,” she begged, as her boyfriend's hands that were on her waist made their way to cup her ass.

“You must use your words darling?” Ominis taunted with a chuckle followed by a groan as his girlfriend might have rubbed against him a bit too hard.

“What were you saying, Omi?” She teased with a smile as she continued to press her own wet sex and throbbing clit down on his bulge, a bit lighter tho.

Ominis opened his mouth to say something but his teasing girlfriend smirked before she pressed even harder on his length. The groan that left him made her chuckle lightly only to be stopped by Ominis mouth.

His teeth found her supple and slightly swollen lips and began biting on it. Making sure to suck the flesh while his hands squeezed and spanked the fleshy mound of her buttocks. Her breathless yelps and moans as she continued to grind on Ominis began to become heavier. 

Her body began to slow down a bit signifying that she was losing stamina but Ominis, ever so perceptive of his girlfriend, placed his hands on her soft plumpy hips. His grip left indents on her flesh as he began moving her body on his clothed dick. The pleasure he received was immense but the wet patch that he could now feel on his clothed sex, was a sign that the girl in his lap was far too close to her release.

“What’s the matter, love?” He asked, knowing she was too drunk on pleasure to talk, instead she whined in response to his question.

Her hands lightly placed on his shoulder while her head was thrown with her chest pushed against her love underneath her.

“Oh--omiii..” she whispered out as her body began to twitch ever so slightly. Telling Ominis that his precious girlfriend was mere seconds from exploding over him.

“Om--omii, imma. Cum.” She spoke in whispers and gasps as her body slowly began jerking much harder.

Then just as Ominis had predicted, his lower half had become wet in her essence. She stood up a bit, her feet finding the side bars of the chair as support as she tried to get away from the stimulation. Her boyfriend's hands are still on her hips.

One of his hands left their place on her side and began sliding through her now wet folds, glistening in the moonlight that seeped in from the cracks of the little boat house. He lubed his fingers up before putting in two fingers. His fingers couldn’t make it past her hole and he tutted.

“Tut-Tut, squirted so hard that you’ve made yourself too tight for me.” Ominis mused, but the girl in lap was still quivering while her jaw slacked.

He slowly began to unbutton her white long sleeve button up. However she held Ominis wrists, stopping his actions before bringing them to her lips and kissing her fingers before slightly sucking them. Ominis shivered at her tongue licking the tips of his fingers while the slight hollow of her cheeks sucked it.

An incredible image materialized in his mind. The silhouette of his precious girl in his lap, towering him just a bit, her eyes glistening in reflection of the moon as slight sheen reflected a path of tears cascading down her cheeks to her jaw.

Her mouth is adorned with puffy lips and her hair a beautiful mess. His hands still close to her face as she kissed it. She looked perfectly ruined by Ominis and he was so proud of what he made her.

“Your soo good to mee, Omi…” she whispered her words against the palm of his hands.

“Imma be good for you.” She spoke before kissing a path from his arms to his neck and finally his jaw. Hovering just over his mouth letting him open it, only to kiss his nose.

Giggling she got on her knees and took the hard length out. It was glistening in the moonlight the droplets of precum and the slight remnants of her own squirt making his pale thick shaft almost glow.

“So prettyyyy…” She slurred, already feeling cock drunk at the sight of Ominis in the chair. Him half exposed, his hair tousled from when she ran her hands through it, and his nick bruised with some light hickies.

“You should see yourself, my love.” Ominis whispered out as his pretty little girlfriend was on her knees slowly stroking his length.

She began with kissing the base of his engorged length, feeling the shudder that ran through his body and the slight twitch of his cock. As she peppered his shaft with sweet loving kisses Ominis couldn’t stop panting, his breath shallow and his mouth opened wide. It was his time to slack jawed.

A low hum left his mouth as his girlfriend kissed the top of his pretty head, the usual pink now replaced with bulbous glistening red. Her tongue making soft circles at the opening on his cock a hiss leaving his mouth. Her thumbs running against his ball sack, feeling it bob up and down at her ministrations.

She slowly took his head in her mouth feeling her tongue accept his weight and his taste. He tasted like an aftertaste of honeydukes. The thought made her smile before she felt her hands covered in saliva. Her own spit dripped down in strings, collecting beads of his precum and making a mix of salacious fluid.

She began to suck his head tasting more of the precum he produced as she felt his balls move a little in her hands as she continued. Feeling as if there was enough of her spit and his cum in her mouth she spat right on his balls. The crude action made Ominis jerk and as he opened his mouth to reprimand her for being so filthy. But her mouth was on his balls as quickly. 

The action made his back arch as his hands found themselves tangled in her hair or on her shoulder. He wasn't pushing her, he was just holding on to her. The sensation was so new and welcoming that he felt as if he may float away.

Her tongue licked and sucked at the stretchy skin like muscle of his heavy balls. She made sure to explore this new area of him, loving the way he whimpered and whined at the feeling. Letting one of her hands work on the middle of his huge length while the other worked top of his tip. Spreading his cum all over his length, keeping him lubed up for more.

“Oh- Merlinsss,” He hissed out, his parseltongue seeping out.

 “You're such a good little girlfriend for me.”  He confessed in parseltongue.

His low hisses echoed in the room, the sound reverberating against her skin causing goosebumps too form. Ominis was driving her crazy, every logical thought in her head disappeared, any shame or any restraint she had was no longer her concern. Consequences can be damned.

They were still in their attire on the off chance they might have to play off being in the boat house, after all it was public property. However she had a crazy idea in her head and no logic to stop her. She paused her assault on Ominis ball sacks. 

Her lower mouth was now covered in her saliva and his precum. Ominis was bleary eyed to even feel she had stopped, his body still coursing with happy hormones. The rustling of her clothes made him snap back to reality, the wand in his sleeves materializing the image of her basically naked now. Her cotton underwear was discarded and she was just in her corset. She hooked her hand to the lace in her back and pulled the material to loosen her corset. As it loosened it fell down on the floor along with her shirt, robe, tie, and skirt. 

Her breasts falling down in a bounce. She was just in her socks and Mary Jane shoes. 

“My love,” Ominis whispered out as his hands found her chin pulling her face to look at him, “You shouldn’t be so naked out in the open. Especially since the chill air of the lake may make you catch a co-” 

His words cut off as his darling girlfriend lunged at his lips trapping him in a kiss. As she kissed him, she wrapped her breasts around his thick dick. Smushing the flesh around him. The sensation of her supple and soft skin around him made him moan in surprise.

His mind lagged before he finally understood what she was doing. She was giving him a boob job. Half of his length was covered by her boobs, while the other half was out in the open. As they broke apart from the kiss she moved her body to sit back on her knees. His dick now at a perfect angle for her to swallow his tip in her mouth while her boobs caressed him.

“You're such a caring boyfriend Omi,” She slurred out before she went back to sucking his tip. 

“Let me take care of you.” She whispered as she used her body to jerk him off. 

Ominis could feel her body's warmth on her balls, on his shaft and on his tip. His heavy balls made a plap-plap sound as the wet skin hit her under breast. Her mouth still sucking and swallowing every little of his pre cume he released. 

She could feel him ready to cum, his balls began to jerk, his length twitched, and his tip released more precum. Ominis voice became raspy as he whimpered and hissed. His body arching more and more, offering himself to the girl below him.

And just as she was about to feel him cum in her mouth he pushed himself further down her throat. The action made her gasp before she herself moved closer to his length making her mouth take more of him. She swallowed around his length and that's when she felt him release. 

She let some of his cum in her mouth but she pulled him out and began jerking his shaft closer to her face. Wanting to feel his release on her face and chest. Ominis was so fucked out that he didnt even notice his dick was no longer in her mouth. Only when a particularly chilly breeze caused his sensitive tip to twitch did he use his wand to figure out what was happening.

The sight in his mind was one he would never forget. His girlfriend on her knees as she licked the cum off his dick. Her face was covered in clots of it and so was her chest. She took some of his cum on her chest and licked it off her fingers moaning at the taste.

“By merlins, you’re so perfect my love.” Ominis confessed softly as he helped her up before he pulled her into a kiss.

They stood up rather awkwardly. But Ominis wasn’t done. His mind only replayed the scene of his pretty little girlfriend sucking him off. The kiss itself was so hungry. His body coursing with dopamine and oxytocin wanted nothing more besides another round with his cute darling.

“Are you gunna fuck me Omi?” She asked so sweetly as they pulled apart from the kiss. Her hands slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

He just sighed at her question, feeling himself lose control, as he pulled her into his face for another kiss. His mouth was barely kissing; it was just a wild clash of sucking and licking. 

“Fuck me hard Omi,” She moaned out knowing exactly what was happening to her boyfriend, “I want to feel you deep in my be--” her words cut off as one of his fingers entered her slick hole.

“If you keep talking like that my love, I’m afraid I may lose control.” He confessed as he kissed her neck softly.

The girl in his embrace going limp and once again open mouthed at the feeling of his fingers stroking and stretching her insides. One hand around her waist while the other had it's pointer and middle finger stretch her out. He began scissoring his fingers, the squelch as he entered and left her sopping wet hole made him groan into her neck. 

Whispering in parseltongue at how obscene she sounded. Her head lolled back as he sped up his actions. 

“Imma cum oh- omi,” She squealed out as she felt the familiar feeling deep within her cervix, the familiar pull and tightening of her walls. Some of her cum already leaking down her hole, onto Ominis hands, and soaked right into his shirt.

Before she could cum or explode all over Ominis finger, he took his fingers out. His girlfriend teary eyed from pleasure, but now had furrowed eyebrows. Ready to tell him off.

“Om-Ah” Her words interrupted the feeling of Ominis pushing ¼ of his cock into her cunt. The sensation made her shiver.

Ominis placed both of his hands on her ass and picked her up. Her legs wrapped around his slender waist and her hands wrapped around his neck. He walked them both over to a marble table. The dust on it suggests it hasn't been used for anything in more than a year.

As he sat her down on the table, he leaned his taller forward to kiss her softly. He placed her feet on the table and spread her open by pushing her plushy thighs away from her core. He kept her figure closer to the edge. As they broke the kiss his girlfriend placed her hand behind her. The cool marble table made the heat in her hand obvious.

“You're truly insatiable, aren't you?” He asked rhetorically as the tip of his cock was still buried in her walls. He couldn’t see, but he could feel the juices of her welcoming slit flowing out. 

“Omiii~” She mewled as she pawed at the tall mens blazer. 

But he just stared at her dishevelled form. Her soaking heat releases her sweet nectar around his twitchy and desperate cock. Her soft mewls and her hands grasping at him, asking him to move. He couldn’t help the mused chuckle the vibrated through his chest, especially at the memory – that only a few hours ago she sat composed and poised at dinner – now she was unraveling in front of him.

“Fi- fine!” She grumbled before she steadied a hand on his chest as she began moving her hips just a bit. 

Her moan echoed in his ears as he felt more of him being consumed by her slick throbbing walls. She wiggled more of him inside of her before he pulled out all the way before slamming half of his lubed rod in her.

She groaned in both pleasure and surprise as he began a fast pace. Both her hands now stretched behind, finding stability on the cool marble table. Ominis rocked into her, working in more and more and more of him until he was snug inside of her.

Her moans were half mixed with whimpers and her body both convulsed and rocked at the sensation of Ominis, her loving boyfriend, fucking her mindless.

She tried saying his name but it came out broken, sounding more like a moan and less like a name. But Ominis knew what his girl was saying, that's why he stopped prying her thighs open and instead pulled her closer by her back.

The closeness makes the girl below him whimper in pure happiness. Then Ominis placed one of her legs on his shoulder and put one of his hands on the sides of her face gripping the back of her neck. His forehead pressed against his as he began a hard and deep pace. His other hand hooked her other leg over his arm while squeezed tightly on her thick hips.

She whimpered and moaned into his palm as he whispered how lucky he is to have and how proud he is of her. His words just left a flutter of butterflies inside her stomach and she felt so precious and cared about being his.

He was about to release his own juices into her salacious little hole, he pressed right at her cervix. He knew already the chances of her becoming pregnant weren’t slim , seeing as they have done so much without protection already within the past hour. However releasing his own load on her would surely get her pregnant.

And suddenly the logic disappeared from his mind when he realised he could get her pregnant. She could give him a child that was half him and half her. And the thought roamed in his head, especially when she began spasming her cum on his dick. The milky fluid of her release creates a vulgar ‘slush-slush’ sound. 

He was going to cum in her, he really was but before his senses snapped back as she wailed out his name. He pulled out just in time as he released a thick virile load on her tits. She jerked his length as she began kissing his neck whispering how good it felt. Whispering how much she loves, confessing how good he looked, and sharing how adored he makes her feel.

As the couple came down from their high they slowly began cleaning themselves and the room up. Knowing they will have to sneak into the prefect's bathroom to clean themselves up. Neither of them were prefects but no one would stop them. She was an ancient magic wielder and he was a Gaunt.

--- bath time --

The pair had decided on a bath together after showering. It was somewhere between midnight and 1am. Everyone had gone to bed and tomorrow (technically today) was a monday. 

The pair settled into the hot water as Ominis muttered “the water is so hot we may as well brew tea along with it.”

His girlfriend chuckled as she ruffled his wet hair before kissing the bridge of his nose. She relaxed against his chest, her naked back pressed firmly against him. His arms wrapped securely around her stomach as he rested his head on the top of his. His thumbs moving circles on her stomach.

“Omi, you're tickling me.” She said softly in a giggle as her fingers drew mindless patterns on his arms.

His pink lips broke into a smirking smile against the skin of her neck before whispering right at the lobe of her ears.

“Careful my love, accuse me once more and I may just prove you right.” He teased her. 

She just elbowed him in the chest, not hard to hurt but enough.

“You know what I meant, Omi.” She confessed as she continued tracing his hands thinking of how they were about two months away from graduating Hogwarts.

Her heart was beating in her chest rapidly and she was scared that if they stopped moving, the water would still rivet from the rhythm of her heart.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Ominis spoke as his eyes closed he could feel her thoughts.

“What will we do after graduation Omi?” She asked her body to turn a bit to face the boy she loves. Her hands now on his chest drawing mindless patterns.

He still had her wrapped in his arms as he ‘looked’ at her.

“Well you’ve had your dreams that I suppose you'll follow. And I guess I'll just follow where you go.” He said as a matter of factly.

“I know that Ominis, you’ve told me that a lot. I meant,” Her voice halting as her thoughts debated asking the question.

“You meant..” Ominis said, trying to get his girlfriend to finish her sentence.

“I meant us.” she spoke feeling timid at the question sounding so stupid.

“Hmm what about us?” Ominis asked, feeling as the question was too vague.

“I love you Ominis, as long as I live and breathe I know you are the one who I will spend years with. I want to grow old with you and I want to..” her voice faltered again.

Her cheeks grew hot as she felt herself become shy at voicing her question at him.

“You must stop with these incomplete sentences, love, I promise I won’t judge you my sweet little girlfriend.” He said while kissing her temple.

“I want babies.” She said with a bashful smile on her face.

“You want.. Babies?” He asked feeling a bit flushed at the thought and at what he was about to do an hour ago.

“Mhm!” She nodded as she excitedly explained.

“After we both settle into our lives and work, after marriage, I want us to have two kids. The gender doesn’t matter. I would love it if they were 5 years apart. That way the youngest would have an older sibling to look up to and oldest will have a younger sibling to love. Oh and when one of them comes to Hogwarts the other will be with us. And when both of them come to Hogwarts we’ll be empty nesters for two years which will give us a break and we could travel. Then when the oldest graduates, they'll probably stay with us for a while before they leave. What do you think?” She said with a smile on her face as her hands continued to trace patterns on his chest, not stopping once.

“I think the world you created for us is beautiful. And I can not wait to start it with you. I love you too.” He said as he pecked her lips.

“This may sound ridiculous, but I swore on Merlin that you were surely to get me pregnant today at the boat house.” His girlfriend chuckled at her thought. Remembering how deep he was in her and how he really showed no signs of pulling out of her until the end.

“I was thinking about it, and I swear on Merlin I truly thought I was going to get you pregnant.” He confessed as she began chuckling with him joining in.

“It’s a good thing we aren’t married,” his girlfriend spoke with a teasing tone in her voice, “it would have been very hard for you to keep those freakishly large hands off your wife, wouldn't you?” her playful words made one of his eyebrows rise.

Her lips curved into a smile as she thought of another possibility of them living together right after graduating Hogwarts. She knew in her heart that sleep would be few and moans would be constant.

“Me? I’m the one who can’t keep my hands to myself?” He asked his voice low in tone as he smiled at the absurdity of the thought.

“Yes.” His girlfriend replied clearly amused at him.

“Darling, I think you’re forgetting who’s clinging to whom this entire time.” His fingers brushing gently against her stomach as caressed the skin once again.

His girlfriend just rolled her eyes as she began to stand up, readying herself to turn into bed. Ominis stood up also, getting out the tub and helping her out, but as she moved away to grab the towels. He pulled her into his embrace, their wet body sticking to each other so easily.

“But if you’d like to prove me wrong… then by all means try keeping yours off of me for a moment.” He taunted as his arms hung by his side all the while hers were on his chest.

She pushed him gently before scoffing “Is that a challenge?” She asked as she grabbed a towel for herself and one for him, throwing the one for him at his head.

Obviously, the blind boy didn’t stand a chance of catching it. When the towel landed squarely on his face, a startled pause followed before his girlfriend’s laughter bubbled up from across the room, light and teasing.

“I could have helped you,” she called out, her voice dripping with mischief, “but I didn’t want to ruin the fun.” Her grin widened as she dried herself off, clearly enjoying his predicament.

“How original, making the blind boy catch.” Ominis deadpanned as he reached for the towel before wiping himself off. 

Tying the towel around his waist as he looked for his clean clothes that they transfigured out of their dirty, dusty, and wet clothes. The blame both his sweet little geyser of a girlfriend took bashfully and he pridefully accepted. From across the room he could feel her staring at him.

A low smirk spread on his lips as he flexed and moved his body. Giving his girlfriend a show of muscles as he moved around pretending to not know where his clothes were. After a few minutes of back and forth and deliberate stopping in her line of view she figured out his play.

She scoffed once more before she walked over to him. Her body clad in a white chemise that flowed with her body, in his black vision the flowy material of chemise’s flow looked like a glow.

“You’re ridiculous Omi,” She said as she handed her his clothes, “You need to start hanging out with more people besides me and Sebastian.” She added.

"To be honest, I’d much rather just spend time with you than him," he said smoothly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "But, as it turns out, once you feed a stray cat, it never leaves your side." His tone was light, but the subtle tilt of his head and the warmth in his voice made it clear he was just joking.

She laughed before helping him button his shirt up. A thing she did without him asking to, something that she loved to do for him. As she buttoned him up she stood on one leg as the other traced his calf up and down. A mindless act that she did whenever she was fixing his hair, straightening his tie, or buttoning him up like now.

Ominis wore a sly smile, the unmistakable kind that said, I’ve got you now. It was the same look he’d had when he caught Sebastian sneaking one of his dozen prized Honeydukes chocolates. At first, Sebastian had waved it off, calling him paranoid, claiming he was imagining things. “One missing chocolate? Really, Ominis, don’t be ridiculous,” he’d said with all the feigned innocence he could muster.

But the moment Ominis caught him red-handed—his fingers quite literally in the jar—there was no escaping the truth. Not even Sebastian’s silver tongue could twist the situation in his favor. Manipulating Ominis was one thing; doing it after being so clearly exposed was another entirely.

“May I ask what is the smile for Ominis?” The girl asked as she straightened up his collar.

Ominis leaned back with a knowing smirk, his pale eyes narrowing in amusement as he replied in his smooth drawl, "You, my love. You and your insatiable need to constantly touch me." He let the words hang in the air before adding with deliberate provocation, "If I were to accept this challenge of yours, you’d have already lost.” He paused again as if to strike the hammer on the nail with precision he said “Right now."

The statement was so utterly absurd to his girlfriend that a burst of laughter escaped her, but as she detangled herself from him, her expression shifted into something more serious—a flicker of offense that made Ominis sit up straighter.

"That’s it, Gaunt," she declared, crossing her arms and putting deliberate distance between them. "We’re doing this silly little challenge."

Whatever she thought she was proving, Ominis didn’t seem fazed. He tilted his head in her direction, his smirk unbroken. "Whatever you say, my love," he mused, clearly convinced she’d either forget about it or abandon it the moment it became inconvenient.

But he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Her voice took on a determined edge as she began listing rules, and Ominis’s smirk faltered slightly.

"No touching—only cordial hugs and hand-holding allowed. Playing with each other’s hair? Fine. Napping on the other person? Acceptable. Cuddling? That's fine too. Kissing on the cheeks and lips? Also permitted, but no funny business."

She was pacing now, counting on her fingers with military precision.

"No masturbation. For either of us. For a week."

Ominis raised an eyebrow, his composure slipping just a fraction. "A week? That’s absurd," he muttered, but she ignored him.

"No explicit letters," she continued, her tone sharp. "No flirty innuendos. And-" she turned, leveling a pointed look at him, "no avoiding each other to make this easier. We stay in close proximity. The whole time."

By the time she finished, Ominis was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, staring in her direction with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "You’ve put an alarming amount of thought into this," he said dryly, though there was no hiding the faint trace of nerves creeping into his voice.

She simply grinned, her earlier offense replaced with pure determination. "Oh, I plan to win this, Gaunt."

Ominis chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I think you might have just made this harder on yourself than on me." His voice was laced with amusement, but the flicker of hesitation in his expression hinted at the battle of wills that was about to unfold.

The warmth of the Great Hall lingered as the girls gathered their belongings, lighthearted exchanges filling the air. The girl, lost in her thoughts, trailed slightly behind, her uncertainty about Ominis gnawing at her composure. Imelda’s chuckle brought her back to reality, her friend clearly noticing the worry etched across her face.

“You’ll figure it out,” Imelda quipped with a playful nudge, but before the girl could respond, Poppy elbowed her with a subtle reminder to tread lightly, while Natty offered Imelda a reproachful glance.

As the group of friends exited the hall, chatting idly about their next class, the familiar voices of Ominis and Sebastian drifted behind them. Ominis’s distinct, calm cadence reached her just as he called out, "My love."

He gently pulled her aside, the briefest touch guiding her into his arms for a warm embrace. "How was your breakfast?" he asked, his tone genuine, though the faintest glimmer of mischief danced behind his milky eyes. It was a look that always left her guessing, and today was no exception.

“It was delicious, Omi,” she replied, her voice light and steady as she raised her hands in a mock shrug. "What about you? Did you enjoy the custard pie? They had that raspberry compote you always rave about."

A smile tugged at his lips as he nodded. "I did. It was delightful, thank you. But..." His voice softened, slipping into a teasing lilt, "why weren’t you sitting with me? You’re not avoiding me, are you?"

She laughed, brushing her fingers across his cheek in a gesture so familiar it was second nature. "You’re being ridiculous, Omi. I’ll have lunch with you, I promise. I was just catching up with the girls since dinner got, well... cut short yesterday."

His cheeks flushed faintly at her pointed reminder of why their dinner had ended early, the heat rising to his face unmistakable.

"Bye, Omi," she said softly, leaning closer to plant a feather-light kiss on his cheek. The tips of his ears turned crimson, his breath catching for the briefest moment as he held onto her voice like a melody.

"I’ll see you at lunch, darling," he replied, his tone soft yet tinged with affection. Taking her hand in his, he pressed a kiss to the back of it, a gallant and tender gesture that sent her heart fluttering.

She bit back a smile, her own cheeks heating to a soft pink as she hurried back to join her friends, their knowing glances waiting for her.

"You mustn't worry so much," Natty said gently, her warm smile matched by the soothing spring breeze that brushed past them, carrying the scent of blooming flowers.

"Why is that?" the girl asked, her cheeks already tinged with a soft pink.

"Because," Imelda interjected with her signature bluntness, a teasing grin lighting up her face, "you have a visceral effect on your big boyfriend."

The girl’s eyes widened at the choice of words, her blush deepening, but Imelda wasn’t done. She leaned in slightly, her voice dripping with mischief. "Honestly, I’d wager he was about three seconds away from pinning you to the wall and snogging you senseless."

"Imelda!" Poppy scolded, her tone scandalized as she shot the other girl a look. But even as she played the voice of reason, there was a knowing glint in her eyes. She turned back to their wide eyed, blushing friend, offering a reassuring pat on her shoulder. "She’s being obnoxious, yes, but she’s not wrong."

The girl opened her mouth to protest, but no words came. Instead, her mind spun with her friends’ observations, leaving her flustered and stammering as they strolled along, Natty’s soft laughter and Imelda’s triumphant smirk ringing in her ears.

The end...

You guys I need to go bed. I am starting my class techinally today and I decided to write this brain rot instead of doing lecture notes. But I have no regrets I just need sleep.

Also I am planning on writing four alternate ending. Two for reader when she wins and loses. two for ominis when he wins/ loses.

divider by: @pommecita

[paimonial-rage]

another random writing event

So I am currently in avoidance mode with my wips and i do t wanna look at them, so i decided to have another random writing event. Below I have a list of 40 random words. If you're interested, please feel free to send in a word and a character and I'll do my best to write a short fic centered around it! If there are any words that are not on the list, feel free to send in one of your own! I may not get to everyone's but I will do as many as I can.

Begrudging

Untruths

Opposites

Trembling

Expectations

Testing

Hypothesis

Indulgence

Recoil

Repose

Brazen

Consequence

Facade

Fragment

Echo

Contradiction

Skeptic

Enthralled

Ambivalence

Dissonance

Subterfuge

Glimmer

Obscured

Nostalgia

Fleeting

Desolate

Revelation

Intrigue

Zenith

Perplexity

Fathom

Resilience

Turbulence

Labored

Solace

Transitory

Temperament

Sway

Frivolity

Nonsense

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

[reidrum]

like i would | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: ok im gonna be honest idk how i feel about this one, i just wanted to finish it and put it out so apologies in advance if its not the best lol. this was requested with the prompt "i bet he can't fuck you like i can"! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated ! thanks for being paitent while i got this one out <3

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, fingering, munch!spencer, jealous!spencer, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you whack it), reader's bf has a name which i hate in fics but its so hard to write this trope without a name so, afab!reader,

summary: a confession about your sex life makes it's way to the one person you'd hope wouldn't hear, and now he's determined to rectify the way you've been wronged

wc: 4.5k

_____________

you were a great asset to the bau. it was why you were personally recommended by emily to transfer out of sex crimes, the skill set you brought alongside the field training you had proved to be vital for the team’s success lately. you were also a great asset to the team. the bau was notorious for having people turnover fast, and you knew they were apprehensive with newcomers. but you managed to hit it off with every single member, one more than others.

spencer reid did not expect someone like you to join the team. not that he didn’t have faith in your talents and skills, he’s read your file and obviously knows you’re more than qualified to be here. he just did not expect someone who looked like you to join the team, someone who didn’t look beaten down by the horrors of the world and still believed in pots of gold at the end of rainbows. 

it didn’t help that you were so beautiful he literally would feel his heart ache when you walked in. like literally, would have to rub his chest to soothe the pain. and as spencer would, he would logic out his feelings with science because that’s all they are, scientific chemical reactions in the body. but what he felt in your friendship, what he felt when he was lucky enough to be in your presence, was something no textbook, theorem, or equation could explain.

so imagine the size of the fucking hammer coming down on his head when he finds out you have a boyfriend who: 1. is not him, and 2. is an actual real life bozo.

apparently you’d been seeing damon from organized crime for about a month now, that’s what he heard from penelope, and you ‘claim’ to be super happy. 

spencer doesn’t buy it.

he’s seen the way your ‘relationship’ operates, and he’s got the facts to back it up. damon never lets you get a word in when you’re in group settings, even purposefully talking over you when you’re clearly attempting to speak. majority of the time he’s condescending about your job as a profiler for the bau, saying that him and his team bring down drug rings, but you guys ‘just read their horoscope or whatever and decide the killer.’

it made spencer’s blood boil hotter than the sun. he couldn’t figure out why you put up with it, and why you continue to.

the final straw that broke the camel's back about his disapproval on your relationship choices, is what he overheard on the jet one time on the way back from a case.

the girls were talking in the back of the jet, unaware of spencer’s very awake mind despite his visibly sleeping body.

“i don’t know guys,” you had started with a sigh, “you think it’s weird right?”

“that your own boyfriend won’t go down on you? yeah hon, that’s fucking weird.” emily strikes.

“what did he say exactly?” jj asked.

“he said it increases the risk of STIs on the mouth? and doesn’t like the feeling of thighs crushing his head? and that even with all the … grooming … it’s still unnatural ?”

emily gagged while jj continued, “um…but do you like…on him?”

“yes! he literally won’t touch me unless i do!” you rage whisper.

“i am about to give him an organized crime to deal with,” emily half jokes, “what an asshole, why are you still with him?”

“i don’t know, he’s still nice to me i guess, and maybe i’m just being dramatic. or maybe i’m just not someone people go down on, who knows.” you sigh.

spencer stops listening, he can’t hear you talk so poorly of yourself. not when it’s so far from the truth yet you’ve been indoctrinated to think it’s accurate. how anyone could take advantage of you like that is beyond him, but it did light a fire inside of him and made him determined to help you realize you deserve so much better. if that happens to be him, then who is he to fight that?

—

spencer doesn’t get his chance to prove it to you for another two weeks, when you’d come over to his apartment for a movie night after getting in a fight with damon, your date night being canceled and leading you to spencer’s doorsteps, all dolled up with tears lining your eyes asking to come in.

he doesn’t even have time to be mad at your shithole boyfriend when he’s ushering you inside, offering you to sit on the couch while he goes and put a kettle on the stove for tea.

“i’m really sorry to just show up like this, spence.”

he doesn’t even blink before calling out from the kitchen, “don’t apologize, i’m always here for you. anytime and anywhere.”

you give him a soft smile before returning your gaze to the soft glow of doctor who.

he returns cradling two mugs in one hand and a pack of haribo gummies in the other. spencer doesn’t care for gummies, he’s more of a chocolate guy, but he knows it’s your favorite. so he makes sure to keep a couple bags in his apartment for you.

“my favorite!” you gush. his heart warms at your smile as he sits next to you on the couch. you naturally gravitate towards him to lean your head on his shoulder, and it’s automatic for spencer to wrap an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

the whirs and whooshes of the tardis fill the silence for the next hour as you visibly become calmer than when you first arrived. he decides this is a good time to ask, “do you want to talk about it?” as he turns his head to look at you.

“i don’t know,” you say quietly popping another gummy in, “i’m starting to believe it's just a me problem. like, maybe i’m just objectively not a great partner, and that’s why we keep getting in these fights. you know this time, he said i’m not worth all the effort and stress i bring him and that because of me he’s gonna bald at 29? i’m not a scientist like you or anything but even i know that, at least, can’t be my fault.” you end with a chuckle.

spencer knows he should probably comfort you in this time of honesty you’ve graced him with, squash your insecurities like a pesky bug on the windshield, and tell you how beautiful you are in as many words it’ll take for you to believe it (and he knows a lot of words).

but right now? he’s just fucking pissed.

not at you, never at you. at your situation, yes. at that sorry excuse of a partner let alone agent, immensely.

so he can’t help what escapes his mouth next, “why do you let yourself get treated like shit?”

you look up at him in surprise, at both the cursing and what he said, “what?”

“you’re constantly talking about how awful he treats you, and yet everyday you still go back to him knowing it’s going to repeat the next day. i just want to know why you don’t respect yourself enough to not let that happen to you.”

pulling away to sit far from him on the couch,  you start letting the annoyance show on your face, “spencer, that’s not fair at all. you think it’s my fault? do you really think i want to feel like this?”

“yes!” he shouts, “you seem like you do with how much you crawl back to him everytime, and everytime you let him back in.”

“okay, i think i should go,” you stand up and grab your things, “it was a mistake to come here, goodbye spencer.”

he grabs your wrist before you can get too far, “i just have to know, what is it?”

“what’s what spence, let me go.”

“what keeps you going back to him, it can’t be because you love him. it’s obviously not because you’re happy with him,” he lets out.

“you don’t know anything about me or my life, spencer!” you snatch away your arm and start heading towards the door.

“it’s definitely not because the sex is good, because i know it’s not.”

any emotion you had on your face wipes away like an etch a sketch, staring blankly at the door, hearing the man you’ve harbored a crush on since you started at the bureau years ago, telling you he knows your sex life is abysmal.

your voice comes out small, “h- how would you know that?” you don’t dare to turn around, knowing that if you did any resolve you held onto, any denial of emotions you’ve stripped from yourself would come pouring out like a broken dam.

the couch groans at a loss of weight, and the floorboards creak closer and closer to you.

“i heard you, on the jet.”

you’re especially glad he can’t see the blood draining from your face. if your heart already wasn’t at your feet, it’s most likely six feet under at this point. 

he heard you?

“when you were talking with the others about how he doesn’t reciprocate, and won’t sleep with you unless you get him off.” he continues.

the room is getting hotter by the millisecond, temperature about to be comparable to the sun’s core. it’s one thing to have just anyone hear the intimate details of your life, but spencer? the man to which you’d been using damon to get over?

the only sound that can be heard is your increasingly heavy breathing, and spencer feels like he’s caught a fish on his line and is ready to reel you in as he inches closer to you.

“you’re okay with that? not being taken care of in the way you deserve?”

his presence is merely nanometers behind you, the ghost of his fingers looking for landing on your hips. when you don’t move away, and he hears your breath hitch at the contact, he sets his hands more earnestly on your curves as he leans down to the nape of your neck.

“just don’t know,” kiss, “how anyone,” kiss, “wouldn’t want,” kiss, “to give you everything.” kiss.

your head lolls back onto his firm chest as he whispers in your ear, “cat got your tongue, sweetheart? you were so mouthy not even five minutes ago. be honest with me, has he even ever made you come?”

the whimpers escape you without warning and you find a single decibel of voice to speak, “spencer…” hoping the whine would dissuade him to let it go.

“uh uh, i asked you a question,” his arm tightens around the front of your waist to press back and fully feel him, “answer me.”

your lexicon has depleted except for the one word you know he’s desperately waiting for you to say, and the one he knows is the answer. yet you know the second it leaves your mouth, everything changes. and maybe you’re okay with that.

“no.”

spencer hums lowly, “has anyone made you come?”

“no.” you say again, softer this time.

“should we change that?”

this was not what you expected when you came to see him after your failed night out. the amount of processing you’d done in the last year to essentially not be thinking about spencer 24/7 was extensive. and you were ready to render it all useless in a matter of seconds.

so you let the strap of your bag fall down your arm and hit the ground with a thud, and finally turned around to look the good doctor in his eyes. while his voice held traces of anger and frustration, you came to see his eyes were full of reassurance and comfort, the spence you always knew to prioritize your wellbeing more than anything.

he looked down at you and slid his hand to up to cup your jaw, and he hears the smallest murmur, so delicate yet so full of want leave your lips.

“yes.”

that was all spencer needed to catch your lips in a heated kiss, moving your body to the closest wall as he places a hand behind your head to protect you from the wall’s impact while the other pins your waist to the wall.

you move your arms to wrap around his neck and keep him pinned to you with no escape, like he’d ever want to. his lips detach from yours and make a descent towards your neck again, taking deliberate effort to locate the sensitive spots.

he finds one just behind your ear and spends time sucking and bruising up the spot, relishing in the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. while you’re lost in the sensation on your neck, you don’t notice spencer move one of his hands closer to the button of your pants, effortlessly (and impressively) opening it up.

detaching from your neck with a heavy pant, he moves back to lean against your forehead with his own and look you in the eyes to ask, “is this okay? we can stop if you want, i didn’t mean to be so forw-“

“please don’t stop.”

he searches your eyes for any conflict and finds none, considering it the okay to continue his downward descent. he returns his lips to the second home they’ve made on your lips and starts to push your pants down over the curve of your ass, leaving your panties on.

the flash of purple lace underwear glares at him when he glances down, and suddenly he remembers what got him in this position in the first place.

“were you wearing this for him?” he lets out condescendingly, “you really think he deserved to see you like this?”

spencer’s fingers brush against your front, leaving your heavy breaths hitting him in the face. you can’t think of anything to say. hell, you’re not even sure if you know any words right now. all you can offer is a pathetic moan, and spencer doesn’t think that’s enough.

“come on, don’t get all shy now. what were you expecting him to even do, hm? thought you said he didn’t care about making you feel good.” he taunts as his middle finger traces the outlines of your cunt through your panties.

you shudder at the contact, leaning your head back against the wall as he refuses to break eye contact. he’s waiting for you to say something, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he’s slowed down his movements on you. taking a shallow breath you open your mouth, “h-, he didn’t care, just thought if i ke-, kept looking nice he’d wanna, fuck, do something.” you moan out.

“and did he?” he moved his hand back up to slowly slip into your panties.

his finger dips all the way down to your entrance to gather your wetness and spread it all the way back up to your clit, your mouth dropping open as you let out a whiny, “no.”

“what a shame.” he dips a finger into your hole and you let out a pornographic moan.

he drags his finger in and out slowly making sure to watch your face as it contorts in pleasure. once he feels you’ve gotten used to it he slips in a second finger, increasing the pace and moving his thumb to circle your clit again.

“oh fuck,” you cry.

“baby, you’re so tight.” he whispers. the way you clenched around his two digits made feel almost pussy drunk, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. he starts to wonder if damon was doing anything really to prioritize your pleasure, and it only just worked him up more. he felt more determined to bring you to finish, so he picks up the pace and increases the pressure on your clit.

you drop your head to his shoulder no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore, the sensation of his fingers on you taking over, loose whimpers and moans falling out of your mouth every other second.

“spencer…shit, i’m gonna come…”

“let go for me, baby.” he whispers in your ear.

the pleasure barrels through you like a wrecking ball, knocking the wind out of your mind and body. your legs turn into jelly and you almost fall before spencer holds you up. you try to regulate your breathing into his shoulder, hoping to calm down before you look up and meet his eyes again.

he makes that choice for you when he gingerly lifts your head up, his eyes silently asking if you’re okay. you don’t even bother responding before softly pressing your lips to his again, hoping he can feel your response to his silent question.

the kiss picks up in urgency, and soon his hands are back to exploring your body again. they slide down to the backs of your thighs while he murmurs a small, “jump.” and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. without breaking the kiss he walks you both to his bedroom and places you on his bed with care.

his fists flank you on both sides as he leans down to kiss you, and he moves further down kissing along your neck and chest. you reach down to the bottom of your top to pull it over your head, leaving you in the purple lacy bra that matches your panties.

he detaches from you and stands at full height, gazing at the sight of you spread out on his bed with your hair framing you like a halo. he can’t even help himself when he says, “you look so beautiful, angel.” the blush rises to your cheeks, and you beckon him to come back down to which he happily obliges.

spencer moves down further towards your hips, and his lips ghost over the lace band spreading along your waist. his fingers play with the fabric and he moves his face to be directly in line with your clothed cunt. your breathing gets heavy, and you anticipate what he’s about to do.

“wait, you don’t, you don’t have to do that, spence. i already came.” starting to feel a bit guilty at the man above you potentially feeling obligated to do this, as you realize that if he heard you on the jet, he heard about the one thing damon refused to do for you.

“sweetheart, i’d love to keep making you feel good as long as you let me, okay? you gonna let me make you feel good?” he breaths, pressing chaste kisses to your inner thighs.

you give a slight nod and he gently pulls your panties off your legs, marveling at the light glistening off your cunt. he kisses up the plush of your thighs before pausing right where you need him the most. you look down at him and meet his unwavering eyes full of love.

he places a long kiss to your core before licking a long stripe. you moan out languishly, the euphoric feeling taking over every sense in your body. you’re unable to comprehend how you went so long without feeling this, it almost feels criminal. and the way spencer was eating you out, felt like this was doing it for him too even though you were the one getting pleasured. 

it turned you on even more to know he was getting off on how much you were enjoying this. your head was spinning off into another realm, and the only thing tethering you to this reality was the grip of your hands in his hair. his tongue made circles and shapes all over your cunt before dipping down to thrust into your hole.

your thighs shake and threaten to clamp shut on his head, and he uses his wide hands to wrap around your thighs to hold them in place. “oh my god fuck, that feels so good…spence…please..” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but of course, spencer does when he adds a finger into your hole and moves his tongue to focus back on your clit. the combined sensations were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time tonight, your release glistening on his chin as he moved back up to kiss your lips again.

your heavy panting tries to bring you back down from your high, a mix of sweat and the taste of you lingering everywhere. 

spencer smooths your hair back as he moves his body to lie next to you, “i think, damon’s a fucking loser, if he doesn’t think that’s worth doing.” he says between pants.

you hum in agreement, or just in acknowledgement at whatever he said since you’re still reeling from the endorphin release. hiking your leg over his body to straddle him, you clumsily reach for his belt and attempt to undo the clasps to reach his growing member. you pull his pants down and palm him through his boxers, reveling in the broken moans falling from his mouth. you start inching downwards when spencer grabs you by the forearms and flips you over so you’re back on the bed staring up at him.

“not tonight, sweetheart. it’s about you right now, wanna make sure you know what you deserve.”

“but…” you pathetically respond.

“i don’t know what that neanderthal tells you, but sex is not transactional. i think if i ever see that guy again, i’d punch him for making you think otherwise.”

the words go straight to your core, turning you on even more. spencer takes note of how your pupils widen and your chin tilts up towards him.

“besides,” he presses his crotch to yours, “the sex wasn’t even that good with him, right?”

you moan out again, unable to find words to satisfy his question. he leans back up and off the bed to fully remove his boxers and you finally get a good look at what was underneath.

holy fuck, he was huge. you propped yourself on your forearms to get a better look at him, and watched as he lazily stroked himself while he sauntered back over to you. the image was so lewd, you hoped you could borrow some of his eidetic memory so you could hold on to this moment forever.

his face held a smug smirk at your awestruck one, and he felt his ego inflate even higher, “by the looks of your reaction, i’m guessing he’s never been much of a, challenge, for you in bed has he?”

you dumbly shake your head no, “definitely not as big as you.” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

his smirk grows wider, “don’t worry, baby, i’ll take real good care of you.” he says as he climbs over you to line himself up to your entrance.

you feel him slowly start to push in, the sensation of being split open growing bigger by the second. your brows furrow and your eyes are shut tight as you wait for the pressure to turn into pleasure.

if spencer thought you around his fingers had him pussydrunk, what he’s feeling now has to be close to pussy poisoning or something because he cannot think of anything in existence that feels as good as the walls of your cunt clenching around his cock. it’s taking everything in him to not break, to just fuck you senseless and reach his peak.

once his hips are flush with yours and he’s fully settled within you, he waits for you to give him the okay to move.

you, on the other hand, have never felt more full ever. damon was not nearly this big, nor has any other guy you’ve been with. it’s a bit of a miracle on how it fit inside you, and how it felt better than anything you could’ve imagined. the pressure and slight pain subsides, and with a slight nod spencer takes the cue to start moving.

the first thrust has you both moaning out in harmony together, and he sets the pace nice and slow so as to make sure you’re comfortable.

but it's not enough for you, you need him to fuck you.

“spence…harder.”

he stills at your word, leaning up so he’s perpendicular to you.

“whatever you say, princess.”

and he starts pounding into you, hips rutting at a pace you can’t even keep up with. the whimpers and moans gush out as the familiar coil begins to build within you. he taps your leg to lift it up over his shoulder to allow him deeper access, and he’s able to reach that one spot you’d heard about from all your friends, on reddit, in movies. you had no idea this type of feeling even existed, and spencer was hitting it with precision every single thrust over and over.

“fuck,” you whine.

“that feel good, baby?” he teases, “the way you’re squeezing my cock so tight, i doubt that fucker ever made you feel like this, huh?”

your tits bounce with every thrust, and the deepened angle has you reaching your climax fast. spencer feels it too and drops his head to whisper in your ear.

“i bet he’s never fucked you like this,” he continues his taunt, “he’d never be able to fuck you like i can, make you come three times in one night like i can.”

you whimper, “spencer,”

“say it, sweetheart. say no one’s ever fucked you like me.”

he was trying to kill you, death during intercourse would be a crazy way to go out but it’s a fate you’d be willing to accept. nonetheless, you comply.

“never ever, fuck, been fucked like you, baby.”

spencer has never felt more satisfied, “good girl, now come.” and with a final thrust he lets you reach your peak as he releases himself into you.

in the midst of groans he gingerly pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

the next few minutes are just filled with the sounds of yours and his heavy breathing, before spencer leans over to you, “was that too much?”

still in your daze you let out a soft giggle, “spencer, i think you’ve ruined all men for me.”

he smiles back, “i meant what i said, damon’s really stupid if he’s not willing to do all that for you.”

you intertwine your hand with his, “you know, i never really liked him anyway. i was just using him to get over you.”

“me?” he says incredulously.

you nod, “i didn’t know if you would’ve felt the same so i just tried to move on to someone else, stupid i know, but i don’t know it made sense then.”

he pulls you closer to rest in the crevice of his chest, “i have been into you since the day you walked into the bullpen, and letting you slip through my fingers is a mistake i will never make again.”

you hug him tightly before groaning out loud, “shit, i have to tell damon it’s over now don’t i.”

“i mean, i could tell him if you want.”

“spence, no. i think you might kill him.” you laugh, “i can do it, i just don’t want him to get all ‘organized crime’ on me.”

“just tell him i have a gun.”

“so does he?”

“mine’s bigger.” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “well, yes.”

[spatialwave]

just one more.

➸ ask: “Hey! How about “one more kiss, please” from the prompt list for Jayce. I just need him desperately yearning for reader” – ➸ pairing: jayce talis x gn!reader ➸ word count: 1.3k ➸ tags: mdni! fluff, kissing, yearning, mutual pining, gender-neutral reader, no mention of y/n. ➸ notes: tysm for asking! ask came from this prompt!

You couldn’t count on ten fingers how many nights you dreamt of Jayce Talis, the Man of Progress himself. The image of him rattled through your mind at every waking hour, that stupid smile you always wanted to wipe from his lips with your own. 

What you hadn’t known was how he reciprocated the sentiment. Jayce would find you at your workstation, dirt on your face and welding goggles on as you carefully put together pieces that would host the hextech gemstones for further research. You had become a treasure to him, someone he could rely on when his days were busy, which were more often than not.

There were plenty of times you hadn’t been aware of his presence, he would stand in the doorway watching you work. Hearts for eyes and forcing himself to turn away before his heart ached too much, knowing that you weren’t his.

He yearned for you each day, staying up into the late hours, wondering if you felt the same.

How could you? You were too…perfect. 

It was the night of one of Piltover’s illustrious charity events that brought in only the richest of citizens. Any and all who put in their well-earned money for the academy, and you, had been invited by Jayce himself. Viktor had decided against it, not so much inclined to spend his night at another event when he could be spending his evening in the lab with Sky.

So, you took his spot – and you did not belong.

With your hand wrapped around an empty glass which once held a darkened liquor, you stood off to the side in the large area that had been decorated so elegantly. The tunes of the live music and sounds of chatter filled your ears, eyes looking amongst the swarm of rich Piltovians sharing conversation about gods knows what.

Jayce had been everywhere and nowhere, the Golden Boy was easily the most important icon of the evening. Everyone wanted to talk with him, ask about his research and his plans for improvement of the city. 

It was irritating to be stuck alone, but at least the invitation filled your stomach with top-shelf food and liquor you wouldn’t be able to afford yourself.

There Jayce stood amongst a group of rich folk, eating him up, just like you knew they would. He was surrounded, a big smile on his lips as he moved his way through each conversation with his natural knack of charisma. You wondered what he was talking about, watching his lips move as he spoke so goddamn passionately, hands flying with each word. 

His eyes connected with yours at one point, lingering on you for a quick moment with that stupid smile, before his attention was enraptured by another generous donor.

After a few more minutes of watching, you gave up. There was nothing else for you here.

Footsteps clicked along the surface of the tiled floors, the empty halls more inviting than the gala ever was. Your fingers dragged along the surface of the brick walls, the liquor having left you in just the perfect amount of bliss as you made your way home, knowing you could sleep the next day away.

“Hey!” A voice called from behind you, startling you with a soft gasp.

You snapped your head around, eyes widening when they settled on Jayce hurrying down the hall behind you. He wore a smile, wearing too fancy of clothing to be chasing you down.

“Why are you leaving?” He asked once he reached a few steps away of you, breathing a bit heavy, “Sorry… out of breath,” he chuckled through deep inhales, “I didn’t think I’d catch up to you.”

The thumping of your heart against your rib cage didn’t go unnoticed, stilled in silence over the fact that he chased after you. A tiny smile spread across your lips.

“It’s not really my style,” you finally replied, hands landing on your hips, “why do you care if I leave?”

“Why do I care?” Jayce’s eyebrows furrowed together, “because I invited you here. I… I want you here.”

You hated how sweet he was.

“You’re a busy man, Jayce,” you smiled, offering a slight shake of your head as you stepped toward him, better seeing him under the dim lighting of the empty hallways, “I’m not too fond of just standing around watching you get swarmed by every wealthy person from Piltover. As inviting as that sounds.”

He snorted out a laugh, eyes watching you closely as you stepped directly below one of the overhanging lights. It illuminated your features perfectly, made you appear like a glowing angel.

“So, you’re just going to leave me here by myself?” He asked, those big eyes of his making you want to melt right into the floor beneath you.

You laughed in disbelief, raising an eyebrow, “you’re not alone.”

“But I want you here,” he was adamant, eyebrows furrowing again, “come on. It’s not that bad.”

“You’re annoying,” you groaned, trying to act like this was worse than it was. You had a flair for the dramatics when you needed to pull something out from your sleeve, “I’ll see you tomorrow anyway, it’s fine,” you brushed him off with a wave of your hand, “plus, you’re going to be busy all night, so if I stay, I’ll end up getting drunk by myself and that’s never turned out well for me.”

Jayce’s eyes flickered over your face, studying your expression carefully. Neither of you had realized how close you had gotten, close enough that he could tuck back some of your hair behind your ear. The movement of his hand made you both tense up, a fleeting touch that he hadn’t realized he’d done. Fingers brushed against the shell of your ear as he pulled his hand away, redness tinting his cheeks.

“Oh, uh–” he forced out an awkward laugh, eyes now looking anywhere other than your face, “you had some hair… in your face.”

Lips parted, but you couldn’t speak. His touched left you stunned in place, eyes big as you watched him. You watched as his eyes focused somewhere along the walls, hands balling into tense fists and teeth biting at his lower lip.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the late hour of the night, but you hadn’t the slightest care in the world anymore. All you wanted was Jayce, and it was his fault that he made you feel this way, so you were going to pull him into the mess that was you.

Even if it ruined the friendship you worked so hard to maintain, all these years.

His amber eyes landed back on you when he felt your hands reaching to his cheeks, cupping his face oh-so delicately. They widened as he watched you lean closer, noticing the way your gaze flickered down to his lips he’d been habitually chewing on all evening.

Jayce’s heart fluttered, and he acted on what felt right. Meeting you halfway and sighing when your lips touched after years of imagining what this would feel like. 

Both hands reached out for you, resting on your waist as he pressed forward. The kiss developed slowly, lips moving together a bit clumsily as your patience wore thin. Hands explored each other, touching hips and shoulders, and your tongue slipped from between your lips, and that’s when you froze.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you pulled back, taking a slight step away, “sorry–”

“No, don’t,” he whispered, closing the distance with a forward step until your chests were pressed together. He stared deep into your eyes, his own full of love as his gaze continued to flicker down to your lips that he needed to taste again, “one more kiss… please.”

You smiled like an idiot.

“Just one more,” you murmured, rolling your eyes affectionately, before he pulled you back into another kiss that took the breath from your lungs.

Jayce would be the death of you.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Jaehyun ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Jaehyun x f!famous!reader

summary: you and Jaehyun are paired up for an interview. You should know what texting your boyfriend is like, right?

(cw: f!reader, famous!reader)

"Hi," Jaehyun greets the camera, "this is the perfect opportunity to catch up on some music." He settles into the plush pink chair while he fits the headphones over his ears.

His music begins to play while you enter the set and greet the camera which prevents him from hearing who his mystery partner might be. You pop your earbuds in and explain your screen name, "I chose Cupid because I like to set my friends up and help them in their relationships."

The camera cuts to Jaehyun who stares blankly at the camera, "I choose Valentine, because I was born on Valentine's day."

You settle into the chair and make yourself comfortable while your partner for the video begins messaging you. Whoever it is is very proper, uses all the right punctuation and is straightforward. Your eyes widen at the camera, speaking through the music playing through your earbuds, "is this an old man? Am I texting someone's grandpa?"

The staff bursts out laughing and you decide to text your exact question. Jaehyun's eyes widen and he can feel his ears heat in embarrassment beneath the head phones. He texts back with a slight pout on his face, "No, I'm not a grandpa."

You text back and forth for a while, talking about your hobbies, your MBTI, and just trying to make small talk. When you make a joke he doesn't respond with any laughs or emojis, when you try to make more conversation, he responds with short answers. You lean back in your chair, with a huff, "this person is not very fun. It has to be an old man. He doesn’t get any of my jokes!”

The staff prompts you both to send a picture of your home screens. You had recently updated it knowing that you were doing the interview and you and Jaehyun liked to keep your relationship private. Yes, it was known and public, but that didn't mean you were both open to sharing every little aspect, or really any details. Maybe one day you would both be open to sharing everything, but that day was not today.

You quickly take a screenshot of your screen which happens to be a couple folders of your apps and a widget of some picture you had found on Pinterest against the background of some flowers outside your favorite cafe.

Jaehyun perks up a little bit, "I think this looks familiar. I recognize the chairs and words on the wall, even though I can't really see it. Maybe it's one of the members?"

You study the picture sent to you with your brows furrowed as you zoom in and study the apps and the picture, "this looks so familiar to me. It looks like a restaurant in Jeju I was at a few weeks ago, I could be wrong. Let me ask."

The staff struggles to muffle their laughs at yours and Jaehyun's joint confusion. Of course, the pictures looked familiar to each of you, you were together, and had been to these places together.

You continue to text back and forth for a while, finally getting somewhere when he starts to show a little more personality and send some memes in response to your texts. He seemed to be a pretty funny guy, ultimately making you decide it was not an old man you were texting, just someone more proper and maybe old-er.

When it comes time to have you both send your recent food orders, Jaehyun pouts and furrows his brows as he studies the recent orders you'd sent him. There were 3 recent orders, 2 were for 2 people, and the last one was for a larger group. The orders looked familiar, one order for pizza and the other for ramen. It was food he had recently eaten and as hard as he tried to remember he couldn't remember who he had eaten the food with. His schedule had been so packed lately, everything was jumbled up in his head. "It has to be one of my members," he decides out loud.

You study the screenshot sent by "Valentine" while biting your lip, one of the orders was what you had eaten yesterday. A small voice in the back of your head was telling you it was your boyfriend, but he told you he was doing talk shows and variety shows today. This wasn't considered either right? Does he really text like this and you’ve never noticed? Surely, you know what your own boyfriend texts like, right?

You both continue chatting and whoever it is makes you laugh pretty hard at some points when your partner says something stupid or sends a dumb meme. You laugh especially loud, choking on your spit when he sends you a drawing of what he thinks you look like.

You have tears in your eyes and warm cheeks as you stare at a poor drawing of what looks like a boy, freckles, huge eyes, big smile. Your eyes dart from the screen of your phone to the lens of the camera, “wh- he thinks I’m a boy? This doesn’t even look like a person who actually exists!”

Jaehyun on his own side bursts out laughing after zooming in and looking at every detail of the picture, “there are wrinkles on this drawings face. And it’s bald. He thinks I’m an old man, so weird.”

As the time winds to an end you look at the staff behind the camera, somewhat shocked and saddened by the end. "Time flew by!" you scrunch up your face as you think, "I don't think I have a really good read on who it is. I think it's a man that's older than me and probably someone in the music industry since he related to so much. Maybe he's a dancer or producer of some kind."

On the other side Jaehyun is set on who he thinks it is, "it's one of my members, I know it. I think it's Jungwoo or Haechan."

You both stand and turn to face your partners. Upon catching sight of Jaehyun, you immediately scream and run behind the set laughing while screaming, "you told me you had variety shows today! Go home!"

Jaehyun bursts out laughing, hunched over as his cheeks flush, "you didn't tell me either! Get back here!"

Your voice comes out loudly paired with your surprised and embarrassed laughter, "No! I'm so humilated!"

The staff manages to get you both together for the ending conversation. The cameras start filming and you smack Jaehyun's forearm lightly, "you are a horrible texter."

"What did I even say?" He laughs in shock.

"I never realized how boring you are through words, you text like an old man."

Jaehyun answers the staff as they ask how you both possible couldn't pick up on each other through the texts. Jaehyun looks at the camera while he answers, his hand holding yours beneath the tall table, "I think texting is so boring and annoying. We call each other or video call. If we open our messages we use voice notes, we very rarely actually text each other.

You squeeze his hand under the table, eyeing him with a mischievous look, “who did you think I was? You thought I was a boy, who did you have in mind?”

Jaehyun rubs his free hand over his face, already regretting his guess, “before I tell you, you have to understand my thinking. Jeno and Chenle did one of these interviews together so I just figured it could be another member. I thought you were Jungwoo or Haechan.”

You guffaw, a shocked laugh leaving you as you pull your phone out and pull up the drawing he had sent you, “this is what Jungwoo or Haechan look like to you?”

“I’m not an artist! Well, not that kind of artist, but I think it’s pretty good. I even added teeth in the smile.”

“Babe, that’s creepy.”

“Who knew you were such an art critic all of a sudden?” He playfully asks with a bobble of his head.

The staff subtly tell you both to wrap it up, reminding you to take a selfie before ending the video. You catch the cues and smile at Jaehyun, “we’ve been together for a while now but I feel like I learned a lot about you today. You text like an old man, you can’t draw, and you have a horrible memory.”

“Hey! You didn’t know who I was either! The food orders didn’t give anything away?”

“We’re talking about this later,” you decide to reply as you lift your phone to take a selfie.

“Wait, lift it to this angle,” Jaehyun instructs as he gently moves your arm.

“Wow, so bossy,” you mumble jokingly as you snap the picture.

The screen goes black with the selfie of you and Jaehyun with matching bright smiles on your faces as yours and Jaehyun’s laugh transition into the ending of the video.

[lightseoul]

16 please 👀

Congrats btw for your 2K milestone!! 🎉 WAHOO

number 16, coming right up! thank you for playing and for the congratulations, lovely <3 i hope this one makes you laugh!

(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)

16. "I WANT TO GO HOME TO MY WIFE." (0.7k)

it’s probably by the tenth sigh of the night—not that anyone’s counting—that poor kaminari finally snaps.

“seriously, dude?”

bakugou, who’s seated across from him with kirishima and sero adjacent to the both of them, only lazily raises an eyebrow in question.

at that, the electric hero pouts. “at least try to pretend you’re having fun.”

a few feet ahead of them—the men collectively chose to be seated at the back of the small dive bar despite kaminari’s protests—the stand-up comedian currently doing a set cracks another joke. an undercurrent of laughter flows across the room, but none of the four contribute to that.

“sorry, denki,” sero starts, a not-so-apologetic expression plastered on his face. “i’m with bakugou on this one.”

the slim, ebony-haired man glances at the stage, “the jokes aren’t landing for me either.”

“aww, come on, you guys!” kirishima, the ever-unfailing saint that he is, pipes up with a borderline overcompensating grin. “let’s just stay for a while longer for denki, alright?”

sero shrugs in response, but turns in his seat toward the stage anyway. bakugou, on the other hand, only grumbles before reaching for his phone in his right pocket.

thumbing his password under the table, his fingers click on the messages app, then to his number one favorite contact.

for a second, he debates whether or not to shoot you a text. you were so excited to finally get started on that anime you’ve been meaning to watch, that you almost seemed like you didn’t care that he was leaving you home for the night to hang out with the guys.

biting on his lip, he absentmindedly goes through your last exchange before finally deciding fuck it.

while typing out a well-crafted message, his eyes dart between his screen to his friends then back down again, trying to seem inconspicuous.

the last thing he needs is for the bored tape hero to tease him with that annoying ass shit-eating grin of his.

reading through it one last time, bakugou finally presses the send button.

much to his delight, it doesn’t even take you a minute to reply.

(8:43 PM) baby 🧡: heey! i’m still watching—am on episode 5 now. hbu? aren’t you busy with the boys?

the smile he wasn’t aware he’s been sporting immediately drops when he’s reminded of the predicament he’s in. peering back up at the front, he has to fight the groan that threatens to bubble from his mouth when another performer goes up.

oh, well. at least you’re texting him right now.

he quickly types out his response.

(8:45 PM) me: Busy being fucking tortured. This is the worst night ever.

“yo, bro, who got you smiling like that?”

bakugou whips to glare at the culprit, who’s now wearing the very same shit-eating grin he’s just been thinking about avoiding a few moments ago.

pocketing his phone, bakugou snarls at the man. “shut the fuck up. all that doom-scrolling is rotting your fucking brain.”

“i think you getting the reference says something about you, too, bakubro,” kirishima offers from beside him.

bakugou shoots the redhead a menacing scowl, which the unbreakable hero accepts in stride.

“are you guys even listening?” comes kaminari’s whine.

“sorry, denks,” sero replies, before turning to regard the rest of the group. “i thought we agreed to stop doing these guys’ night outs? none of us are as good at planning get-togethers as mina.”

at that slightest bit of opening, bakugou takes the opportunity and moves to stand up, grabbing his wallet and car keys before inserting them in his back pocket, surprising the three men.

before any of them can say a single word, though, bakugou tries to shrug nonchalantly, muttering his simple explanation.

“what was that?” came sero’s teasing tone.

“i want to go home to my wife, idiot,” bakugou barks before he can stop himself.

at that, kaminari finally throws his hands up in defeat.

kirishima only shrugs himself, “that clicks.”

while the menace snickers. “simp.”

[elixirfromthestars]

A Night of Frights & Delights

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)

Summary: It’s Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can’t stand is also there?

Word Count: 7k

Warning(s): slight horror themes / suggestive tones + implications / mentions of a past murder (not in graphic detail just campfire storytelling) / slow burn / suspense + other elements of spookiness / touch starved elements / be prepared for lots of back and forth + tension

Prompt: Campsite + forced proximity + “ It’s not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we’ve gotta have a full moon too?”

a/n: here’s my entry for @witchywithwhiskey ‘s summer slasher writing challenge. Any chance to celebrate summerween and I’m there 🤭✨ I got carried away with the spooky element of it and this ended up longer than expected. Thank you for reading! 🧡 Feedback is always appreciated!! 🎃🧡

a steamy part two ❤️‍🔥

“ It’s Friday the 13th! Gather ‘round, for some good ol’ scary campfire stories!” Sam Wilson called out to anyone who would listen. A task that wasn’t the easiest thing to ask for when all the college students in the area were trying to have their last bit of fun before fall semester started. Amongst the ones that weren’t already drunk or passed out, a few were trying to find the perfect opportunity to sneak away into the night.

You on the other hand sat near the bonfire, appreciating the warmth it provided on this chilly night. Your back was resting against a log. The scratchy surface grazes against your black sweater at the slightest movement. Camping wasn’t your ideal choice for a weekend getaway, but when your best friend Jane insisted on you coming along it was hard to say no. Especially, since you had already said no to multiple get-togethers throughout the summer. 

It’s not like you didn’t want to hang out with her. The issue was that wherever she was her boyfriend was—and wherever he was his friends were. And his friends included one smartass star pitcher for your university’s baseball team who made it his life’s mission to be a thorn in your side. 

Needless to say, you couldn’t stand the man.

“ It was actually 1982, not 1985,” Jane whispers her comment to you, nudging your arm lightly. You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at her, your clueless eyes meeting her amused ones. 

“ You’re not paying attention to Sam’s story, are you?” She quietly calls you out, leaning slightly closer. You shake your head sheepishly,“ No. Kind of got lost in thought,” you admit. Jane nods in acknowledgment,“ You’re not missing much. He’s just telling the story of the murders that happened here in ‘82,” she explains. You nod slowly, an eerie chill creeping up your spine. Everyone within fifty miles of the town knew of the horrific crime. It was the worst the town had ever seen. 

A group of teenagers had snuck off into the woods to party a week before their senior graduation. They brought their camping gear to spend the night under the full moon to celebrate the milestone. They had gone so deep into the woods no one heard their music blasting all night. 

No one heard their screams either as their life was taken from them. 

You took a shaky breath, your fingers tracing random patterns into the dirt beneath you. Even though you could recite this story from memory it was different hearing it told in gruesome detail. Something Sam was not shying away from doing. 

“ Don’t let Sam’s story get to you—here have a s’more,” Thor spoke up, handing you a small disposable plate with a freshly assembled s’more. His way of trying to comfort you. 

“ Thanks,” you shot Thor an appreciative smile, taking the sweet treat. Jane’s boyfriend had always been kind to you and you got along well. The mutual friendliness extended to all of his baseball friends.

Well, the friendliness extended to all his friends except for one.  

“ He’s telling it wrong anyway, so don’t pay it any mind,” Jane says causing you to let out a small laugh. Leave it to Jane to alleviate your nerves by just being herself. 

You try to drown out Sam’s true crime retelling and focus on the sugary gooeyness on your lap. Jane and Thor snuggle into each other beside you and a small smile appears on your face at the sight. You take a bite of the s’more, letting the flavors melt into your mouth. 

“ The next morning the cops led a search party into these very woods. Everyone searched day and night for three days straight. Scouting every inch, no stone unturned, to find them. And then one day, one member of the search party found something. That member being my Titi—so listen close,” Sam sets up the big reveal. 

“ Wanna know what they found?” A voice you know all too well whispers into your ear from behind. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as his breath fans your ear. 

“ I already know,” you grit out, turning your head to glare at him. Bucky can’t help the cocky grin that overcomes him when you look at him like that. He makes his way over the log and sits right next to you. You don’t hide the displeasure on your face. 

“ Couldn’t find anyone else to annoy, James?” 

 “ None worth my time, sweetheart—and it's Bucky.” 

You roll your eyes biting back a snarky comment. No matter the number of times he insists on you calling him by his nickname, you refuse to. Only his friends call him Bucky, and you're not friends—far from it. So to you, he’s James and nothing more. 

“ We’re not friends, James. Friends don’t make you miss your biology final,” you remind him bitterly. He looks at you with slight disbelief,“ You’re still stuck on that? How is it my fault the party went until four in the morning?” You bristle at his defensiveness. 

“ I don’t know. Maybe by not kicking everyone out of your apartment?” you retort, taking another bite of your s’more. Hoping to lose yourself in the sweetness of it before the distaste of his presence taints it. 

“ At least the professor let you make it up…” he mutters under his breath. 

“ That’s not the point,” you snip, unable to let him have the last word. You pretend to focus on Sam’s story, but really your attention is on the flames in front of you. The way they dance and crackle as if telling their own story alongside Sam’s. 

Bucky stares at you, his eyes scanning every detail of your face. His favorite pastime is finding all the ways to push your buttons. There’s something about your reactions that he can’t help but want to see more of. He openly enjoys being the only one who can elicit such responses from you. Hell, you could say he was proud of it. 

“ Stop it.” 

“ Stop what?” 

“ The staring.” 

“ Don't want to.” 

You turn to give him a piece of your mind but abruptly stop when you see the way he’s looking at you—or more so the way he’s examining your lips. His eyes reflecting more than just the golden flames in the bonfire. There was something deeper and not entirely unfamiliar. He had looked at you this way before, and yet it was still unrecognizable to you. An emotion you couldn’t pinpoint, but that was heartstopping nonetheless. 

His hand lifts to your face, his thumb brushing away at something on the corner of your mouth. Your tongue instinctively darts out to lick your lips and remove whatever remnants of the s’more are left. Something unreadable flashes in his eyes. You wonder what he must be seeing in yours when his eyes drift from your lips to your gaze. 

“ You had a little something there,” his voice has a deeper cadence to it, contrasting the cheeky grin plastered on his face. That damn grin. It’s all you need to snap out of whatever trance you were just in. 

“ You’re insufferable,” you hiss out, getting up from your spot on the ground and stepping away from the bonfire. You hate how he does this—how easily he’s able to mess with you. It’s like it's his second nature to know exactly how to get a reaction from you. Almost as if he knew you better than you knew yourself.

The vulnerability of it all is what ground your gears the most. Bucky was used to this. The flirting, the back and forth, the teasing, and having girls wrapped around his finger. The last time you were in a relationship was your freshman year of college—a few years ago. It had been too long of being touch-starved that the slightest of touches or gazes brought about a yearning deep within you. One that you swore Bucky could see right through and it made you detest the man more. 

You hated feeling like you were being toyed with. But above all, you hated how much you actually didn’t hate the attention he gave you. 

You make your way over to one of the many trashcans around the campsite and dump the last bits of your s’more in along with the disposable plate. Your appetite for the treat long gone after his little stunt. 

You use your phone as a flashlight as you walk over to where all the tents are stationed. It’s not too far from the bonfire, but far enough that the voices of everyone drown out into a low hum. A few people are already in the tents enjoying the night without the warmth of the fire. 

“ Y/n! Hold up!” Jane calls out to you from behind. You face her confused expression, “ Everything okay?” You nod, your hands hiding in the pockets of your grey sweatpants,“ Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna call it a night,” you say tiredly. You don’t want her to worry or keep her from enjoying her night. 

“ Okay…Are you sure? Because you seemed off after Bucky—” 

“ Please for the love of everything don’t mention him.”

Jane drops the subject entirely, “ Okay, okay. I won’t,” she assures you and pauses for a moment before she adds, “ By the way, I’ll be staying with Thor tonight, so you have our tent all to yourself.” 

“ Oh? Oh…behave yourself, Foster,” you warn her playfully. She rolls her eyes waving off your tease,“ No promises.” You laugh together—the exchange alleviating the heaviness in your shoulders.

After a light farewell, your best friend retreats to the bonfire. You find your eyes drifting from her figure to the back of Bucky’s head. He’s still sitting in the same spot, right next to where you had sat. He was drinking away at a beer as Sam continues his story. You look away, ignoring the way your heart feels a small pang as it wonders if it would have been so bad if you had stayed.

Only Bucky had this way of infuriating you, but enticing you at the same time. A magnetic push and pull that tugs at you whenever you’re near him. 

You crouch down and unzip your humble abode for the night. Gazing up at the sky before heading in. The moon is bright and full amongst the dark hazy clouds. 

“ It's not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we've gotta have a full moon too?” you grumble before entering the tent. The knowledge of being in here alone all night sounds less appealing now. You wish Sam had told a different story to set the mood for tonight. 

For the next couple of hours, you lose yourself in your sketchbook. Every corner of the tent became your makeshift desk as the soft scratches of graphite filled the air. A small LED lantern casting just enough glow to guide your intricate curves and shadows across the paper. At first, you were sketching a flower you had seen earlier in the day along a trail. You don’t recognize the species, but the cluster of pretty violet petals vividly lived in your head and you wanted it forever memorialized in your sketchbook. 

At some point, however, the petals turn into doodles and then unrecognizable scribbles. The creative flow taking a life of its own. You soon find yourself drawing a pair of eyes on another page. Giving them a space of their own. These eyes you recognize deep down, but they still have the same unreadable expression from earlier. Almost as if you hoped to decipher it by putting it on paper. 

Maybe then it would be easier to look at them without being affected—without feeling that pull. 

There’s a loud thump that echoes close to your tent. You freeze at the sound. By this point, everyone had called it a night and retreated to their sleeping arrangements. It had been at least half an hour that you hadn’t heard a single sound except for the chirping of crickets amongst a chorus of other creepy crawlers. 

When no sound followed the thump you decided to ignore it—acting like you hadn’t heard a thing. And yet, your fingers swiftly moved to turn off the lantern and close your sketchbook, neatly tucking it beneath your pillow. 

Another noise rang out—the skidding of dirt. And this time it was closer to your tent. Not directly outside it, but almost. You don’t know why your heart dropped or why your fingertips went cold, but they did. You tell yourself it’s probably just someone going out to use the bathroom or some other related activity. 

Your body betrayed your mind as it started to feel enclosed in the tent. Like a prey caught in a trap. Hopelessly awaiting the moment the predator decided to take them out. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and with numb fingers, you grab your phone. The tent shrinking around you as your heart pounded in your chest. Going out to investigate the source of the noise wasn't the smartest idea. However, continuing to be a sitting duck in the tent was distressing you more—and that helpless feeling overpowered anything else. 

You slowly unzip the tent, trying to make as minimal noise as possible. You slip on your moccasins, putting one foot in front of the other as you step out into the night. Your surroundings are cast in shadows as the moon seems to be hiding behind a gloomy cluster of clouds. You look around and notice no one else is awake. Only dormant tents with sleeping residents inside accompany you in the night. 

You scan the area, training your ear to see if you can pick up any noise. 

That’s when you hear it—a rustling in the bushes. 

You peer into the woods, your eyes narrowing hoping to center on something, but you can’t see anything. There’s a slight fog that encases the lines of trees encircling the campsite obstructing your view. 

You take a few steps forward, hugging your sweater closer to your body. The outside air catches you off guard with its falling degrees. The shadows at every corner of the woods become creatures of the night if you stare at them for too long. 

Why were you doing this? Why had you decided this was a good idea? 

You questioned yourself. An unpleasant shiver goes up your spine at the thought of you walking straight into a creature’s claws. Your footing stumbled, and yet you found yourself walking further in the direction of the sound, the faint glow of your phone illuminating your path. You decided against using the actual flashlight on your phone as it could easily alert whatever was hiding in the foliage of the woods. 

You don’t go too far from the campsite. Your legs only take you a few feet away from the perimeter of it before tensing at the way the hoot of an owl cuts through the stillness of the night. Your breath caught in your throat, and you gripped your phone tighter. The edges of it digging into your skin. 

“ What are we looking for?” A voice too close for comfort whispers behind you and it causes you to shriek, your phone tumbling to the ground as you jump away from the source. Your eyes zero in on the culprit—your blood boiling when your gaze meets his ceruleans. 

James Buchanan fucking Barnes.

A deep chuckle erupts from Bucky at your reaction. Not only at the way you jumped, but also at the way you’re now seething. He stands there in a basic white tee and black joggers, his hair slightly unkempt from lying on it earlier in the night. 

“ What the hell is wrong with you?” You hiss, bending down to pick up your phone from the ground. The anxiety from before dissipating into irritation. 

“ Me? What’s up with you? Sneaking around in the woods at night. That’s kinda creepy, sweetheart,” he jabs with a smirk. You roll your eyes, exhaling to steady your breath,“ Stop calling me that. And I'm not sneaking around—I heard something.” 

“ And you came to check it out?” 

“ Yeah.”

“ You have no survival instincts, do you?”

“ And you do? You're out here too.”

Bucky crosses his arms, his eyes roaming over your figure. He’s thoroughly entertained by your attempt to catch whatever is out there in your cozy outfit. It’s not exactly monster-hunting material. 

“ I let my buddy have the tent for the night. He’s got a girl in there. Thought I'd sleep under the stars like nature intended,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. A wry smile appears on your face,“ Aren’t you a great friend,” you reply sarcastically. He’s about to give you a snippy retort when a branch breaks ahead of you, causing you both to snap your attention to it. 

You both go silent—wondering if you’ll hear anything more. Bucky takes a few steps forward to stand in front of you. Positioning himself between you and the unknown noise. 

“ Is that what you heard earlier?” He asks, his voice a hushed whisper. Your eyes drift up his form and the way his arm is slightly outstretched in your direction in a protective stance. He’s looking in the direction of where the sound came from, but then his head turns back to look at you. 

It takes you a second to gather your words,“ Sort of. At first there was like a loud thud by my tent and then some rustling—and now this,” you describe the unfolding events thus far.

He frowns,“ Is your tent the one by Wanda’s?”At his question you nod,“ Yeah…why?” He tilts his head slightly as he tries to recollect something. 

“ The two-person one with the purple edges?” 

“ Yeah…” 

His features soften, dawning on a sheepish expression. His protective stance faltering as he scratches the back of his neck,“ The noise was me then—sorry. I tripped over something while looking for a place to piss.” 

“ Oh…” Is all you manage to say. Feeling utterly foolish for getting so worked up over nothing. What you had thought was something going bump in the night ended up being Bucky stumbling to relieve himself. 

Another branch cracks in the murky fog. Reminding you that although the noises you heard outside your tent were explained, the ones here, not too far from you and Bucky—weren’t. 

“ I’m gonna go check it out,” he takes a step forward, but you stop him. Your hand shoots out to grip the hem of his shirt,“ Don’t! Are you crazy? You’re going to get yourself killed or something!”

His eyebrows raise, not expecting you to have that reaction.“ Are you worried about me, sweetheart?” A smirk spreads across his face, a twinkle in his eye.“ As if—screw you,” you deny harsher than you intended, removing your hold from his shirt. This only provokes him more, his smirk turning into a cheeky grin,“ You wanna?” 

“ You know what? I hope whatever is out there gets you.” 

“ Oh, you’d miss me if it did. But don’t worry—if it gets me, I’ll make sure to let it know you’re the one worth chasing." 

Bucky doesn’t give you a second to process what his words really mean. Instead, he takes out a small flashlight from the pocket of his joggers. He turns it on, shining the area ahead of him. A brazen expression is the last thing you see before he wanders into that direction of the woods as if there wasn’t potentially something dangerous up ahead. 

You wanted to protest, but you didn’t. Rather, you end up standing there amongst the wilderness, watching as his form gets smaller and smaller until it disappears into the haze of the fog. 

You feel uneasy as soon as you don’t see him. Your chest feels heavy with the unknown. You call out to him. Thinking maybe he’s doing this to prove something or to mess with you. When he doesn’t call back you find apprehension in the sinking pit of your stomach. 

Behind you, the campsite is still in sight. The smart thing to do would be to go wake someone up—like Thor—to go after Bucky. However, your feet work faster than your mind does, pushing you to follow after him. 

This time you use the flashlight on your phone to light your path. The luminescence cuts through the fog as you trudge through it. Leaves crunching beneath your feet, and hands outstretched lightly to use the passing trees as support to persist onward. 

You walk for a good few minutes before you finally spot him. He’s standing by a tall pine tree, his right hand tracing over something etched into the bark. 

“ James! Come back to the campsite!” You whisper yelled, approaching him. He hummed,“ So you are worried about me,” the smugness in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you. When he turns to face you his eyes tell you he was expecting you. Like he knew in the end your stubbornness and pride wouldn’t matter because you’d end up following after him after all.

You are worried about him. He needs no further proof than your actions. 

There was a prickling of annoyance building up in your system. More than anything, you wanted to get out of the woods as soon as possible. The campsite feels like a haven awaiting your return. 

“ Can you stop being so insufferably cocky for one second and just come back to the camp before I drag your ass back?” You say through gritted teeth. You wanted to have more bark to your bite, but the inkling dread of what could be out here stopped you from crossing that line. 

He stepped closer to you, the glow of his flashlight reflecting in his eyes in tiny glimmers,“ Why? I thought you didn't care if ‘whatever is out there’ got me.”

“ I don’t—but I’d hate to be an accomplice to that thing.” 

“ Admit it. You’re worried about me.”

By now Bucky was mere inches away from you. Having slowly sauntered right up to you. His eyes were daring you to speak the truth—his arrogant smile tempting you to do even more. 

“ I came to get you back, but if you’re determined to stay here then stay,” you huff, spinning on your heels to storm off. 

Bucky’s hand reaches out and encloses your wrist gently. Just enough to keep you from walking away. He sighs with defeated ire. 

“ Sweetheart, why won't you admit—” he’s cut off by the swift movement of something dashing past the both of you. He immediately pulls you in closer, his arms encasing you protectively—his body a shield. One arm is wrapped around your waist while the other holds your head. Your own body leans into his as if bracing for impact. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see the culprit of the racket. A deer dashing through the woods like it had somewhere to be. You held back a laugh at the revelation. 

This is what had you so worried this whole time? A deer? 

Even so, your heart races in your chest. And Bucky has you so tightly pressed into his that you can feel the way his own heart is thrumming rapidly. Both of your breaths work to steady from their instability as you realize there is nothing truly to be worried about. 

You stay like this for what seems like an eternity. Finding comfort in each other’s arms. The fog dances around your figures as if pushing you closer. The tips of your fingers tingle from where they’re pressed at his chest. 

When you finally register whose touch it is, you pull away. Bucky reluctantly lets you go. His arms awkwardly falling to his sides. You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t know where to start.

Why was his instinct to protect you? To keep you from harm’s way? 

And why had you felt the safest all night in his arms? 

You swallow the questions that desire to escape. There’s a part of you that feels like you should thank him, but then the other part feels stupid for wanting to do so. Knowing how much it would feed his ego to vindicate him as a hero. 

“ Guess it was just a deer, huh?” Bucky tries to cut through whatever tension is starting to build. 

“ Yeah…silly us…” you reply, half-heartedly. Your mind still reeling from his touch. 

You both go quiet again. The silence welcomes you where words fail to. 

Out of nowhere, you feel a tiny bead land on your head. Followed by one on your hand and then your cheek. It's beginning to drizzle. The rain cutting through the trees and promising to kiss every inch of your skin. 

“ We should get going,” Bucky says, his palm cupped to catch a few droplets. 

“ Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you agree, clearing your throat. In other circumstances, Bucky would rejoice and point out how, for once, you aren’t arguing with him. But not right now—not at this moment. Not when the memory of holding each other stirred something within you both. 

No, now instead you walk back to the campsite in silence. You’re a few steps ahead as Bucky decides to tow along at a slower pace. Seemingly lost in thought. 

When you’re back at the campsite your eyes dart to your tent. It’s within reach. A safety you can hideout in until the emotions Bucky arose in you fade away.  

“ Can I chill in your tent for a while? Just until the rain stops,” Bucky surprises you with his request. Until you remember he gave up his tent to his friend for the night. 

“ What? No,” your response is immediate. The thought of you and Bucky alone in your tent causes many scenarios to run through your head. You didn’t think you’d make it through the night with him in it. You were barely hanging on as it is. 

“ I just saved your life.” 

“ You did not.”

“ Did too.” 

“ James, you absolutely did not–” 

“ Please,” his soft plea tugs at the very part of you that wants to say yes. He’s not the kind of guy to beg, but he’ll do anything to not stand out in the cold rain. You being in an enclosed space with him was just a bonus. 

An extremely tantalizing bonus. 

“ Fine…but only until the rain stops,” you concede. You weren’t heartless enough to leave him out in the rain. 

You zip open the tent and climb inside. You remove your moccasins and leave them by the entrance. The inside is spacious enough for the two of you, but you still find yourself going into the furthest right corner of it. You sit crossed-legged as you turn on the small LED lantern to illuminate the tent with its muted glow. He makes his way inside, his hair glistening from the rain. He leaves his muddied slides by your moccasins. 

“ This tent is way nicer than the one Sam and I got,” he comments, running a hand through his hair to dispel the droplets. He’s trying to make light conversation, keeping his distance as he sits in the corner by the entrance diagonally from you. 

“ Jane’s family is really into camping so she had this one laying around…” you mention. The oddity of small talk between you fills the space with a foreign dynamic. The rain goes from a sprinkle to a pour. Hitting the top of the fabric cacoon in harsh strokes.  

He chooses to pivot the conversation.“ Do you have everything ready for fall semester?” He asks you, maneuvering to sit with his knees bent, his shirt hiking up the smallest bit to expose the skin at his hips. You avert your gaze when your heart does a little flip. 

“ Almost. I still have one or two textbooks to get,” you reply, playing with a few loose threads of the blanket beneath you. Anything to not have your eyes wander back to him. 

He scoffs lightly,“ You already got your textbooks? There’s no way. I always get ‘em after the first week.” Unlike you, he can’t seem to keep his pretty blues away from you. Your features heightened in the gentle sheen of the lantern. Intricate shadows scattered across your figure that made you look ethereal. The way his heart hammered in his chest romanticizing the sight of you.

“ That's because I’m responsible and you’re not.” 

“ I am responsible. As captain of the baseball team—”

“ Spare me the team leader speech, please,” you groan, stopping him from continuing. There’s only so much you can take for one night. And hearing Bucky light up as he talks about the one thing he’s passionate about—the one thing that humanizes him to you beyond his usual cheeky self. It would do more to you than just make your heart do a little flip.

You’d end up saying or doing something you wouldn’t be able to take back. 

“ Look, Y/n, I’m just trying to make conversation here. You don’t have to be so difficult all the time. Just talk to me,” Bucky brings you out of your thoughts not only by his exasperated tone, but by the way your name rolls off his tongue. He so rarely calls you by it. He’s called you sweetheart endlessly—and he’s even slipped a few sunshines in the mix—but your name was foreign to his vocabulary.  

 Bucky is usually good at dealing with your constant back and forth. Some days it's the only thing he looks forward to. However, right now it was irritating him how much you pushed back. He wanted you to give in. To what, he wasn’t sure. But he wondered what normalcy felt like with you—what just a damn friendly conversation felt like. 

You sigh, meeting his eyes.“ I don’t want to talk. Sorry, I think I’m just tired. Maybe we should go to bed,” you suggest, hoping that if he says yes you can sleep away the bubbling of emotions in your chest. 

You can see the way he contemplates something, biting the inside of his bottom lip. Now he’s the one holding back. A beat passes and you nervously wonder if he’ll turn down your suggestion. 

“ Fine—it's late anyway. But only if I get to sleep next to you. I promise I’ll keep my distance. It’s just there’s water leaking through the zipper at the entrance,” he mentions, his hand motioning to the entry. Your eyes dart to where he’s pointing and sure enough there’s a small puddle of water pooling by it. Not knowing how long the rain would continue, you knew you had to deal with the issue.

You grab Jane’s camping gear that holds numerous amount of supplies in all of its various pockets. She always came extra prepared no matter the occasion. You take out a washcloth, scooting over to the entrance to soak up the forming puddle. You decide to leave it there neatly tucked underneath where the water was finding its way in.

“ Alright, but if you snore I'm kicking you out,” you warn, but it’s more playful than serious. Something to lighten the mood before you go to bed. A way to dissipate whatever tension’s built up so you'd be able to fall asleep. 

It’s hard to cut through the tension and alleviate its symptoms when your shelter from the storm seems to shrink the more you chat with Bucky. And now sitting right next to him—shoulder to shoulder—it seems like a damn near impossible task. 

" I’ll take my chances. But just so you know, I don’t go down without a fight,” he winks at you, your shoulders brushing. Your heart rate picks up and it takes everything within you to stare into his eyes and not focus on the way that simple contact sent a shiver down your spine. 

His eyes drift to your lips causing your breath to hitch. The implications of where this could go are enough to pull you away from his spell. 

“ Goodnight,” you choke out. Subtly rushing over to your sleeping bag and settling into it. You don’t see when he shakes his head, but you do hear how he chuckles lowly. He mumbles something under his breath, but you can’t pick it up. 

He makes his way over to Jane’s sleeping bag, but lays on top of it instead of nestling into it. Choosing to cover himself only in the maroon fleece blanket that was draped over your body too. 

“ Goodnight,” he finally says, his body turning to face away from you. You respond by turning off the lantern. The space is now engulfed by darkness. Only the faintest of light shines in from the outside, letting your eyes trace the outlines of objects. 

 You turn to your side. Your back facing his. You take a deep breath, concentrating on the sound of the rain to hopefully lull you into a slumber. But the air felt too thick and your body was burning up from the heat radiating under the blanket. There was a good foot or so separating your body and Bucky’s. And yet, you could feel the heat radiating off of him as if he was pressed up right against you. 

It was too much. You swore you started sweating, so you shuffled under the covers and out of the sleeping bag. Every movement slow and deliberate as if to not snap the rope keeping the palpable tension in place. 

When only the plush fleece covered your body, the heat radiated less. But the fluttering of the blanket caused Bucky’s cologne to waft your way. A pleasant scent of musky woodiness with a hint of something that was entirely him. You gripped the cover tightly and counted to ten in your head. You were going mad. 

“ Would you stop hogging the blanket? ” Bucky muttered from beside you. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell you to stop doing. Because you and your constant fidgeting were driving him crazy. Every fiber of his being holding back from doing something to snap that rope. 

You didn’t realize you had been pulling it your way until he mentioned it. Your grip on it loosened,“ Sorry. I wasn’t hogging it though,” you argued for no reason other than to fill the silence. 

“ Yes, you were.” 

“ No, I wasn’t.” 

There was something about the proximity of your bodies that made the blanket seem smaller. Like there was no possible way it could equally cover both of your sleeping forms. Maybe this is what caused you to then tug at it, however, he holds it firmly to himself too.  

Persistently you pull at the blanket again. He pulls back—a tug of war ensues between you. You can hear him huff in the darkness, but you're not letting up. Bucky couldn't care less about the blanket. He only cared about not letting you get the upper hand. His competitive streak showing.  

While you solely really didn’t want to let him win. 

You wrap the end of the blanket around yourself—almost like a cacoon. The delicate fleece encases you. Leaving the bare minimum amount for Bucky to cover himself with. 

“ You have got to be one of the most stubborn people I have ever met in my goddamn life,” he practically growls as he yanks forcefully on the blanket. A tiny yelp escapes you as you get pulled along with it. 

You underestimated the strength of the star pitcher. 

You end up on top of him. The blanket now an extra cushy barrier between your bodies. In the dim light, your eyes lock, and you can faintly see the outline of a boyish grin on his face. You don’t move away. There’s like an invisible force that keeps you there. Your body pressed against his feeling his warmth tenfold. You can’t tell if either of you are breathing because all you're aware of now is how his heart beats in time with yours. 

“ You’re insufferable you know that?” you swallow hard, your voice lacking its usual bite.

“ You sure about that, sweetheart?” he challenges, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips brushing against yours with feather-light contact.

When had your lips gotten so close? 

You don’t know who leans in first. The one who finally breaks the standoff because your lips seem to meet at the same time. The kiss is sweet, but with a slight hesitance to it. As if neither of you are completely sure the other wants this. Or more like neither of you believes this is happening. However, when his hands grip the back of your thighs, sliding your legs from on top of him to his sides so you straddle him—you believe it. And when your hands find themselves threading in his hair—he believes it. 

One kiss that tests the waters turns into one that slowly sinks into the feeling. Until the two of you fully submerge into the depths of whatever has been simmering between you for what seems like too long. Delicate kisses that get more heated—more intense as your lips continue to meet. Bucky beams at the fact that you’re no longer pushing, but pulling into him. His craving for you only increasing now that he’s had a taste. 

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, slow and gentle. Asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Bucky Barnes isn’t the type to be slow and gentle—but when it comes to you he finds himself wanting to relish every second he gets. Not knowing when he’ll get another moment like this with you again. 

Your lips part enough for him to slip his tongue in to truly kiss you like he wanted to. As soon as you grant access he takes full opportunity to explore every corner of your mouth. His tongue molding with yours in fervor. Your fingers lightly tug at his hair while his hands roam your body memorizing every curve and dip. Wherever he gripped and caressed, his touch left heat in its wake. 

A heat you had to contain before it consumed you both. 

“ If you think you’re getting lucky tonight—think again. This is the most you’ll get,” You say breathlessly, pulling away to help your lungs remember what oxygen is. 

He groans, breath panting, the outline of his pout evident in the dim light,“ Don’t do this to me, sweetheart. Can’t leave me like this.” His voice a desperate whine that allured you to keep going. 

“ Too bad. You're dreaming if you think this is going any further.” 

“ God, you don’t wanna know what I've dreamed about.” 

“ Shut up,” you cut off his groan with another kiss. Fierce enough to silence him immediately. He hopes you shut him up like this more often. 

Your lips meet again in a hasty lock. No hesitation now as your tongues meet quicker. You seem to be obsessed with his hair as you run your fingers through it again. He shivers at the touch. His hands slide under your sweater to trail along your soft skin. Keeping his hands along your back and waist. Teetering around the boundary you drew, so he didn’t get carried away. But it was hard when kissing you felt as good as throwing the perfect game—maybe even better.

He realizes the emotions you bring out of him are worth a lifetime waiting for.

He pulls away this time to catch his breath, his hands sliding up your body to cup your face,“ I’m in no rush, sweetheart. I’ve got all the time in the world to take it all the way—make you fall for me.” 

You hum, leaning into his touch,“ You seem sure of yourself. ”

His voice is rough yet affectionate when he speaks,“ I’m sure of you, sweetheart. You’re worth every second, and I’m not stopping until you see it too.” 

He gives you one final tender kiss. One that's full of promise for the future. You weren’t sure if it was his words or the meaning in the kiss that stole your breath away. 

After a few seconds, you both pull away. Separating your bodies from each other to provide that much-needed space before lines were crossed.

“ Goodnight, Bucky,” you say, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how you would keep your hands and lips to yourself come tomorrow. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when you called him by his nickname. Bringing a genuine smile to his face, loving the way it sounded coming from you. 

“ Goodnight, Y/n.”

Even after saying goodnight, the two of you can’t fall asleep immediately. You try to, but there are small moments in the night where you drift back to each other. Where in the darkness your lips meet again and again—satiating the tension in parts. Where your hands find themselves under the covers and layers of clothing. Flaming the fans of desire just enough so it doesn’t completely burn out, but smoldering to be reignited at any moment’s chance. 

You don’t realize when you fall asleep. Your eyelids growing heavy at some point tangled up in his body under the covers. Your face in the crook of his neck. His head resting on top of yours. Your bodies fit like puzzle pieces like they were meant to be connected in every way. 

It’s not until that morning when you wake up and find yourself in his arms, snuggled into his side, that the events of last night sink in. You pull away the tiniest bit. Merely enough to be able to get a look at him. The brown strands of his hair tousled and clinging to his forehead. The slope of his nose, his dark lashes fanned delicately against his skin, and the tiniest parting of his lips. He looks peaceful—almost angelic as he slumbers. 

You’re itching to sketch the image in front of you. 

You can’t stop yourself from reaching out to touch the strands at his forehead. It’s enough to have his eyes flutter open, their color brighter in the daylight. He gives you a lazy smile the instant he realizes last night wasn’t a dream and you really were here, nestled in his arms. 

No words were exchanged, but both of you were conscious of the line you had drawn last night. And yet, you both also knew that in time, that line would be crossed again and again. Until the line blurred into oblivion.

[g0dlyunsub]

for the night.

the flight back from a case gets delayed and the team’s forced to book rooms for the night. what a coincidence that you’re paired with spencer.

pairing :: s5!spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: fluff, flustered spencer, this is literally just an excuse to write about spencer with crutches

word count :: 1.7k

author’s note :: one of my favorite tropes asfdfafssfsd we all know where this is going right ;)

accompanying song :: let’s fall in love for the night by finneas

“i have to admit, i am quite surprised. engine failures are extremely rare — statistically, they only occur once every 1.4 million flight hours.”

“uh-huh, very interesting.” you roll your eyes, but the smile that tempts to play on your lips is too overpowering to withhold. 

“it is!” spencer excitedly flashes you a smile. “we’re actually incredibly lucky to avoid an in-flight shutdown, which typically happens once per million flight hours-”

“reid, i think our luck might be running dry here. it’s 1 a.m., the jet’s engines are acting up, and we can’t leave portland.”

you take both of his crutches in your hands with an exasperated sigh. it’s not his fault, and you know better than to project your annoyance at him, but the disappointment of not being able to enjoy a nice, hot shower in the walls of your home has you uptight.

with an apologetic smile, you extend your shoulder to spencer; slowly, he places his hand on you, and you help him carefully descend the jet’s stairs.

the two of you are the last to join the rest of the group on the ground, and hotch sends an acknowledging nod in your direction once he sees that you’ve been assisting spencer. 

“l/n, reid, you guys okay with rooming together for the night?”

the words don’t initially register, and it’s only until spencer speaks up that you realize hotch isn’t asking – he’s confirming.

“we’re rooming in pairs?”

hotch nods, and his sidelong stare roams over spencer’s face like he’s challenging him to continue, to contest his proposal.

“emily? jj?” you pipe up this time, sending a pleading glance at both of them. they look back at you with sheepish smiles. 

“it looked like you guys were having a really good conversation back there. didn’t want to disturb you,” emily returns, slowly raising her shoulders and mouthing sorry.

spencer clears his throat and leans into your ear. “i can probably book a room at another place-”

you widen your eyes and immediately shake your head. “no, that’s not necessary, i’m completely fine with it! unless you’re… not?”

this time, spencer’s the one shaking his head fervently. “oh no, i’m entirely comfortable, perfectly content, uh- sharing a room with you.”

you display an awkward grin. “alright then, perfect.”

—

“i’ll set your bag on the table, is that okay?”

“yeah, thanks a lot.”

you heave a sigh of relief as you close the door behind you and rest spencer’s bookbag on the wooden table. spencer slowly lowers himself into a chair, and you gently lean his crutches against the walls near the door. 

you’re pleasantly surprised by the room’s decor; its soft carpet floor and mahogany picture frames hanging from the walls easily exceed your expectations for a traditional hotel room.

you’re about to make a comment commending the room’s quality when your eyes zero in on a terrifying sight.

there’s only one bed.

you do a double take, circling around the bedroom once more to check if there’s an extra mattress lying around somewhere – at this point, you really wouldn’t mind if the bed has a trundle.

“fuck me.”

“what?” 

spencer’s eyes immediately divert to you, and he stifles his reaction to your comment with a hasty cough.

you point to the bed, which prompts spencer to crane his neck to get a better view. 

“there’s only one bed.”

spencer’s eyes widen, and his gaze snaps up to your face so fast you wonder if you’ve just made a grave mistake of telling him. 

he was bound to find out anyway.

“it’s okay, i’ll take-” you start, but he cuts you off short.

“the floor? not a chance.”

you press your lips together tightly and gesture to his leg. “please, take the bed. your leg… you’re injured.”

spencer looks down at the floor briefly, a light shade of pink spreading across his face. “no, we can… we can share the bed.”

you feel your cheeks grow hot at his suggestion, but a refusal fails to surface on your lips. 

moving your hands to your hips, you nod slowly. “only because you’re insisting,” you murmur.

a brief silence veils the air, and the two of you have utterly no idea what to do next — neither of you wants to be the one to crawl into bed first.

but the clock’s hour hand had just moved past the two, and you know your eyelids aren’t going to stay open for much longer.

with a weary sigh, you gesture towards the lightswitch. “do you mind if we dimmed the lights a little?”

spencer turns, almost hobbling on his leg, and flips the switch for you. the room turns dark almost instantly, but a faint light emanates from a lamp on the nightstand.

“are you, um, going to sleep soon?”

you hate to be the first one to bring it up, but you have to — you can practically feel the tiredness tempting you like a fuzzy blanket.

“uh yeah, we should sleep.” 

you watch as spencer grabs a pillow from his side of the bed and positions it near the edge of the mattress. you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he props himself onto the bed and rests his leg on top of the pillow, elevating his casted knee.

oh. as the realization hits you, you reach for your own pillow and gently place it next to his head. “here, use this.”

“that’s your pillow.” 

“i know.”

a soft chuckle sounds from his throat as spencer raises his head ever so slightly, allowing you to tuck the pillow beneath him.

“thanks,” he murmurs, and pats at the space next to him, urging you to join him on the bed.

once you’ve slipped your feet into the blanket, spencer stretches his arm to turn off the lamp and moves back to whisper a hushed good night into your ear.

you turn to say it back. “good n-”

his hand gently starts to wedge under your neck, and as he moves, strands of your hair coil around his fingers. 

he’s offering his arm as a pillow.

you lie frozen, your breath hitched in your throat, as his arm extends fully beneath you. 

“spence,” you exhale, caught off-guard by the sudden move.

“it’s okay. don’t worry about me,” he softly whispers, inclining his head towards your face.

you smile, though you doubt he can see your face in the pitch-black darkness. 

“sweet dreams,” you hum, and close your eyes to let sleep overtake you.

—

you wake up not to the sound of your alarm, not to the birds usually perched on the tree outside your window, but to the sound of spencer clearing his throat.

you think it’s a dream at first, but you can feel everything — the vibrations coming from his throat like he’s talking to you, his hands stroking a pattern on your back, his breaths tickling your hair.

you open your eyes to see spencer staring back at you with flustered cheeks, his eyes flickering back and forth between your face and… 

you follow his gaze and look down, only to see that your leg’s wrapped casually around his hips, anchoring him to the bed. with a panicked yelp, you immediately retract your leg and leap out of the bed, frantically apologizing to him over and over again.

“i’m so sorry about that, d-did i hurt you?”

your voice sounds scratchy from your parched throat, but how you sound right now is the least of your concerns.

spencer chuckles softly before slowly sitting up. “no, you didn’t do anything.”

you let out a relieved sigh at his response.

spencer grunts as he lifts himself up, tenderly listening to your continued apologies with a warm smile.

“by the way,” he starts, fixing his tie and reaching for his suit jacket, “we're a little late.”

“what?” you gasp, hurriedly tucking your dress shirt into your trousers, “fuck. how late?”

a pause, and then: “five minutes and twenty seconds.”

“oh my god,” you squeal as you fling your and spencer’s bag over your shoulders, “they’re probably all waiting for us.”

quickly turning the doorknob and making way for spencer’s crutches to move past the door, you rush to the elevator and hit the juddering call button.

“next time, you’re-“ you cough out as you try to catch your breath, “-you’re welcome to just push me off the bed. it’s guaranteed to wake me up instantly.”

spencer looks at you questioningly, a small grin spreading across his lips. “next time?”

you clasp a hand over your mouth. “wait no, i meant – hopefully we’ll never have to sleep in a room together ever again, but i’m saying in case-“

spencer tilts his head and lets out an amused laugh. thankfully, the elevator doors open just in time, and you’re spared the trouble of having to explain yourself further.

you bite your lips as the image of his lopsided grin lingers in the back of your mind, and the fresh regret of your words burns your face like a hot fever.

the embarrassment doesn’t end, however, as the doors open once again to reveal your team standing right outside. when the elevator’s chime echoes throughout the lobby, everyone’s heads turn to you and spencer.

you walk out with nervous steps, grimacing when hotch merely nods and announces that the plane is ready for takeoff. spencer makes his way over to derek, who tousles his hair teasingly.

“so, how’d you sleep last night?”

you freeze when rossi’s husky voice drifts into your ears.

you force out a smile. “i definitely could’ve slept better.”

“really?” he hums with a smirk, “i slept like a baby.”

“yeah, you upgraded your room, we get it, you’re rich,” you sigh, eliciting a hearty chuckle from the older agent.

once seated in your usual seat on the jet, you’re accompanied by spencer and morgan, who slump into their seats across from you.

you watch suspiciously as morgan wiggles his eyebrows at you and nudges his elbow into spencer’s sides. “so, late night, huh?”

spencer looks at you briefly, flushed cheeks failing to suppress the smile splaying across his face. 

“shut up.”

[pedgito]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | you've got an issue and joel's willing to solve it. after all, what are neighbors for?

author's note | this was a prompt from a meet-weird thing i saw ages ago that was originally supposed to be javi, but jo (@undercoverpena) gave me the beautiful idea of making it joel and it spurred this monster.

content warning | established friendship, caught during sex, does the apocalypse having working appliances? probably not, but for the sake of this fic distend belief i beg. oral (eating out from the back), unprotected piv, subtly cocky!joel miller, he's a good ass neighbor, okay?, unbeta'd.

word count — 5.6k

Joel’s fixed this damn machine seven times, convincing himself every time that it was the last time. Shocker, it wasn’t. This time didn’t even last a month. He’s desperate now.

He would usually haul the load all the way to the communal laundry house closer to the group of joined townhomes that housed most of the younger adults—the spry and bright-faced ones who sprung up at the mention of patrol or work, any prospect of toting a gun around with any sense of leadership. They were eager, he couldn’t say the same for himself.

He was old, weathered—years of routine he had created to get the job done and get the hell home.

And truthfully, as he tapped the wrench against the metal machine, chin tucked into his palm as he scratched at his beard, he almost complied with the idea that he would just have to tough it out. Scrounging for parts was nearly impossible—dumb luck, really. In the past several years they’ve picked this town clean, bone-dry.

He’s elbow deep inside the barrel of the dryer when he hears the knock at his door, bumping his head against the rim of it as he exits and cursing under his breath as he pushes to stand, joints creaking and popping in disapproval. 

He can smell you before he sees you, the familiar scent of fresh-baked goods following you everywhere—Joel couldn’t feel guilt for being one of the folks addicted to your cooking. 

Grains had been hard to come by since the epidemic hit, everything was tainted on a global level. It took years and years of Jackson growing its own stock of wheat for things like pie or a nice, gooey cinnamon roll to even be plausible anymore. But, they were managing well so far.

“Saved ‘em for you and Ellie,” You tell him, a small plate of still hot brownies covered with parchment paper, dawning that trademark smile that Joel has come to love, tapping his fingers against the door frame as he passes the plate off to a quickly approaching Ellie.

“Girl’s got the nose of a basset hound,” Joel looks on in amused bewilderment as Ellie throws a mouth-stuffed thanks over her shoulder, “sorry ‘bout her.”

You wave her off whole-heartedly, taking in his sweaty appearance and casual attire. You were used to him in jeans and thick flannels, not a graphic tee and pair of sleep pants. He’s almost always dressed like he had to run at a moment's notice, you weren’t even sure he owned anything different until now.

“Everything good?” You question him, a small laugh escaping your throat.

“Damn washer and dryer is out again,” Joel explains, throwing a hand vaguely over his shoulder.

“Both of them this time?” You ask, “Damn.”

“I can fix ‘em, just a matter of finding the right parts,” Joel tells you, “ looks like I’m gonna have to hand wash again.”

Joel was a friend. You helped friends. It seemed like a no-brainer really, opening your mouth without thinking it through, the kindness tumbling out despite yourself.

“Oh, you’re welcome to load yours up at mine,” You offer and Joel looks immediately apprehensive, the southern charm and well-mannered tone gearing to creep up on you.

“Now, I don’t mean to make you feel like you have to—”

“Joel, I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t feel comfortable with it,” You remind him, “seriously—anytime, just try and bring your own detergent—and for the love of god, empty your pockets before you put ‘em in.”

Joel chuckles tiredly at that, rolling his eyes as he nods in agreement.

“Got it, of course, sweetheart.”

“I leave an extra key under the rug, so if I’m ever not home just come in,” Given that Joel was Tommy’s brother, you knew he wouldn’t be up to any trouble, “sound good?”

“Yep. Anytime—just make myself at home.” Joel confirms and you nod with an even wider smile, waving a pleasant goodbye as you trailed down the stairs and made your way to the house you inhabited next door.

Right, anytime.

Unfortunately, Joel took that a little too literally.

-

Joel managed to scrounge up the courage a day later, tumbling into his house on tired legs after a lengthy patrol up at the cabin lookout, scooping the basket up in his arms and heading out his front door, taking the short walk to your house.

The lights were off, but that wasn’t unusual. Joel knew you liked to stay late nights in the town’s mess hall, often working on prep for the following morning to make the load a little lighter and sleep in a while longer, so when he fishes under the doormat for the key he thinks nothing of it.

And as the door swings open, it is still fairly quiet. Though, he can hear your own dryer running upstairs. He’s got the layout down too, having shared more than a few nightcaps with you. Friend to friend and nothing more, even if you had always felt a little more strongly toward being affectionate. A hug or a kiss on the cheek from time to time, he never pushed you away. Joel never seemed like the type of man who openly showed affection, even toward a friend. But, he was good, reliable–most of the time.

He reaches the stairs with trepidation as the sounds grow louder and part of him wonders if by some uncanny coincidence your dryer might be growling and rumbling on its own final leg. 

The moment his hand reaches that doorknob and turns he realizes he’s made a mistake.

He’s caught you at a…bad time. Head thrown back with your mouth hung wide, whatever noise you’re making was mostly drowned out by the nagging sound of the dryer as it tore through the spin cycle but he hears the tailend of it, a soft moan of pleasure from the man who’s buried inside of you right now, both of you naked from the waist down but your breasts on full display with your shirt tucked under your neck.

“Benny?” Joel asks, slightly amused.

You lift your head at the sound and spot him, your feet nearly slipping out from under you as you scramble to push Benny away, who perks with an even more perplexed, “Joel?”

“Goddamn it, Joel,” You curse behind gritted teeth, furiously readjusting yourself, pulling your sweats back on and over your ass and your shirt down, “What are you doing here?”

Joel looks down at the basket still clinging to his hip before back up at you, wordlessly.

You sigh through your nose with a tight lipped frown, cheeks puffing out as you brushed your fingers through your hair and down—Benny was still scrambling to redress behind you, unable to pull his gaze away from Joel.

“Benny?” Joel mouths at you quietly, eyebrows raised curiously.

You walk toward the now open door slowly as Benny buttons his pants and you shoot Joel daggers with your stern gaze.

Cut it out.

Joel smirks slightly, cheek dimpling with the action as he side-steps Benny, who leans around you and kisses your cheek—it was a kind gesture but given the situation, in horrible taste. You force a polite smile and once Benny is a far enough distance you hit Joel firmly in the arm as he passes by you and into the laundry room.

You walk Benny to the door with a million thoughts racing through your head, offering a distracted goodbye before you’re locking the door and racing back upstairs with determined footsteps and Joel has already loaded his clothes in the washer, turning the knob to set the load size and time.

“Benny?” He echoes his earlier questions, “Really?”

“What? Are you judging me?”

“No—just, that kid’s had quite an obsession with you for some time now. Just…surprised is all.”

Your lips pull together in a disapproving but nonchalant frown, taking his words for the bullshit they are.

“When I said anytime that did not extend to the middle of the night, Joel.”

“You’re usually still at work,” He supplies—and really, he’s not wrong, “M’sorry. I mean that.”

“Well, now I’ve gotta deal with the fact you’ve seen me naked,” You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe and Joel’s eyes track you for a moment, smiling with amusement at the thought.

“What? You want a fair trade?” Joel teases, “‘Cause, darlin’. I don’t mind—but it was an accident. Besides, ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

He means it in a broader sense, but you can’t help the eye roll it induces. 

“No, no,” You chew at your bottom lip, watching Joel place the empty basket on top of the washer, “I can finish that up if you want to get some sleep. I know you had a long patrol today.”

“Oh, did you?”

He’s teasing you.

“Don’t push it, old man,” Joel shakes his head at that jab and chuckles, “Ellie clued me in when she picked up some sandwiches for her and Dina earlier.

He’s not going to pass on the offer, though. He nods, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Jesus—just…Benny?” Joel reiterates again, “Didn’t think the kid had it in ‘em.”

“Out,” You say with an over-pronunciation as you drag his slow and progressive steps further out of your laundry room and into the hall, “or you’re off my dessert list for a month, Miller.”

Joel smiles at you knowingly, “You wouldn’t dare,” He retorts, knowing you too well.

You wouldn’t make him suffer like that. Or Ellie, who wouldn’t hesitate to murder Joel if he robbed her of that pleasure. Not literally…but, she would carry a few choice words for him.

“Seriously, though, thank you,” He nods, leaning down to press a kiss into the crown of your head—an often familiar gesture when you parted after a long night of nonsensical talk and a couple glasses of wine or whiskey, depending on how hard the day had been, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah—”

“And I do apologize for…not knocking and showin’ up at such a weird time.”

You shrug, “You’re forgiven. Just…don’t give Benny a hard time. He’s a good guy.”

“You’ve got my word, darlin’.”

Joel was determined to be on his best behavior, clearly.

-

It takes Joel a couple weeks to find the parts he needs and luckily there are no more run-ins on your midnight sex-scapades, still feeling the embarrassment from the first one. Joel doesn’t even seem to remember it after a couple days, thankfully. He was bypassing it for your own benefit, truthfully. And you knew that.

Selfishly, you're glad to have your appliances back to yourself. 

They’re good, solid, reliable—until they aren’t.

Your washer shits itself mid-load and you can hear it from downstairs. A loud screeching noise before an even louder pop that has you groaning loudly because you know. You can feel it.

You can’t even bring yourself to go check, peering through the window of your kitchen and catching a fresh pot of coffee in the house across from yours, a man coming into view and his stark white shirt contrasting the black coffee cup in his hands. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and looks at you with a quizzical amusement, smile tugging at his face.

Joel was always up before the sun rose, so with the sun just creeping into the sky you’re sure that’s his third or fourth cup of coffee. He reaches over his sink and fiddles with the latch on his window before heaving it up, watching as you struggled to do that same but eventually managed.

“You run outta coffee again?” He asks, sipping at the bitter, black coffee in his mug.

“No,” You reply quickly, slightly exasperated as you chew at your bottom lip, debating how to pop the question and feeling nervous under Joel’s intense gaze, curiously wondering if he’s still picturing you naked. He’s never explicitly mentioned it since, but you have caught him in the act.

Wandering eyes, gazes catching when your back is turned for half a second as you bend down or move in a way that exposes too much skin.

“My washer broke,” You cut to the chase and Joel chuckles at how comical it is, in hindsight.

Was this karma? It was definitely karma. 

You’ve never asked Joel for anything—despite your often bouts of kindness toward him you never expected anything in return, not even a favor.

“Doors open,” Joel nods toward his front door out of view, an invitation like you offered him.

You didn’t even hesitate, pushing the window close and bounding up the stairs.

-

You’re already loading your things into his washer before he appears around the corner, peeking his head in, coffee cup still in hand as he takes a few more steps and leans against the wall beside the washing machine and your eyes glance at him briefly before you continue moving the clothes, watching him watch you from behind the rim of his mug.

“I can start them and come back,” You tell him, “so I won’t be lingering around here all day.”

“No Benny?”

You stand up as you close the washer, deadpan stare pointed in his direction.

“You can be such a nosy neighbor, you know that?”

Joel shrugs, a smug smile covered behind his sip of coffee.

“It was just a few times. Besides he’s…too much for me.”

You turn the dial to start the load and it rumbles to life with a simple press of a button.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It wasn’t completely unnatural for you two—you knew quite a bit about Joel now: his life before, his work, his daughter…all things that come with trust and time. He’s waited patiently for you and you’ve given him peeks into your life, but nothing like this.

“It’s a long story, Joel.”

“Got time,” He smiles slightly, “I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee—sit down.”

You look around briefly, not a chair in sight. So, you raise yourself up just enough that you can slide your ass over the top of the washer, bare feet dangling off the floor and you wait, the subtle and quiet shake from the beginning of the load process keeping the awkward silence at bay.

Joel turns the corner a few minutes later with your cup, made up just to your liking and you nod with a gentle smile, taking the cup from his hand and allowing yourself a few generous sips.

“So—that night, you caught us,” You can laugh at the instances now, so you do in a soft, clipped manner, “it wasn’t the first—it had been a month by that point and he just caught me by surprise, showed up that night and things just got a little out of hand.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in interest but he urges you to continue, leaning against the wall in front of you now, resting his mug on the shelf just above his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong—but I don’t do serious…I can’t, now with how things are. And I know a lot of people think the opposite, seize the moment and all that shit,” You sigh, a deep and heavy sound that expands and releases from your chest, “he was already talking about moving in, the idea of us having kids—so that night I just tried to distract him.”

“With sex? Seems a little…counter-productive, don’t you think?”

“Don’t judge me, Joel,” You warn him but it’s edged with a playfulness that Joel recognizes. You didn’t have a mean, deceptive bone in your body and Joel knew that from the first conversation he had with you.

“I needed him to shut up,” You groan at the thought of the conversation as it replays in your mind, “I’m trying to wash my clothes, he’s talking to me about babies. I do not want kids, Joel. Ever. At least none that are biologically mine. Who would want to bring a kid into this world?”

Well…Tommy. The thought comes to you after the words have already left your mouth and your heart sinks into your stomach, looking at Joel apologetically.

“Sweetheart, don’t even try to apologize. Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

“It makes me sound horrible, I know but—”

“I’ve done my time—it’s none of my business how others choose to live. Besides, I’m pushing sixty, I don’t have to worry about all that…sorry, I’m not trying to be crude here.”

You nod knowingly with a smirk tugging at your lips, taking another sip of coffee before handing the mug off for him to place it next to his own, ready to slide off of the washer before Joel interjects with another question that catches you off guard.

“He treat you right, at least?”

You tilt your head with that same knowing smirk, pushing Joel away at his hip with your foot as he leans up from his position against the wall—Joel’s never flirted, always promptly skirted around the issue and went about it more gentlemanly. He’s not abrasive and straightforward like most of the men in Jackson, but damn did he know how to make you feel special.

Undivided attention, constant subtle compliments, giving up some much-needed sleep for a simple late night drink with you—part of you was too terrified to make your own move and make it clear just how badly you wanted just a small taste of him.

You’ve heard whispering, minimal talk from a few of the women in town. Joel didn’t often make his rounds but when he did, he left an impression. And you had every right to be jealous, because with him standing in front of you now—you knew it would be easy to say no and he would fix you right up, finally crossing that line that he’s been carefully dancing around for a few years.

“He’s a bit…timid,” You shrug, “and he doesn’t really…”

The air lingers and the side of Joel’s mouth pulls up—you don’t have to say it.

“Joel, don’t do that,” You shove at his shoulder as he approaches you, his hands pressing into the contraption you’re on, curled around the metal, “—he’s just…eager, but not in a good way.”

There’s a glint in Joel’s eye that leads you to believe he’s not thinking about Benny’s less than experienced sex life, feeling the sudden jitteriness from the coffee as your chest rises with a deep, shaky breath and Joel eyes the time over your shoulder.

Forty-five minutes and some change, plus the time to dry because Joel already knows you aren’t going to trouble yourself with walking the damp laundry through this cold, muggy weather.

“So, no then?” Joel asks.

He could have treated you better, sure. But, he wasn’t the worst.

But, the way Joel is staring at you knows makes everything and everyone dull in comparison.

You shake your head in agreement, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as your hands fall to your lap, his hands ncreasingly closer to the tights covering your legs, suddenly feeling his thumb graze your hip. You both glance down at the action and your breathing halts, watching as his right hand slowly engulfs your thigh, fingers digging into the soft material and dimpling your skin underneath, his thumb only a few centimeters from dipping into the inside of your thigh.

They part on their own, welcoming Joel in wordlessly and his left hand echoes the other. His face is level with your own, staring down at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes and you’ve seen that look before—the adoration when he thought you weren’t watching, secretly you had become good at catching those glances, but Joel wasn’t trying to hide it now.

And it quickly dawns on you in the moment—he was jealous. Of Benny. Or really, any man that had come before him. But, he was using him as the scapegoat.

Honestly, you couldn’t even care.

“You want someone to treat you right?” He speaks softly and if you weren’t so close you wouldn’t have heard him, “I got you, sweetheart. I swear.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, eyes dragging down the bridge of your nose to your lips again. But, you are looking at him, flooded with that tricky feeling that creeps up on you when you want things you know you shouldn’t.

“Joel, I told you—I don’t do serious,” And you hold your breath for the response, wondering if that would send this moment crumbling to dust, but Joel doesn’t miss a step.

“Good for you,” Joel dotes, “neither do I.”

Then he’s on you, the press of his lips in a heated kiss sends you tumbling back, caught by the warm slide of his palm over your back to pull you in, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he pulls back briefly, just enough for you to open your mouth to speak, but his tongue finds its way inside and the words fade away.

Just friendly, my ass—you think.

If you had known he kissed like this—you would’ve jumped at the opportunity months ago; a night spent drinking too many glasses of wine and laughing over some movie far before your time, but not his. 

He was so entranced, giving you all the details, but you couldn’t help giggling over it, too touchy to be considered friendly.

You’d both cut it short quickly when Ellie popped in halfway through the movie, and beyond that, it never grew.

Until now.

“Sweet,” Joel notes with a subtle smile, his hand dwarfing the size of your neck as his fingers wrapped around the column of your throat, holding you firmly in place as he maneuvered you toward and away from the kiss as he pleased, swallowing every tiny moan that escaped your lips when his other hand squeezed at your thigh just a little too hard.

“All that sugar,” In your coffee, the taste lingering on your lips and he licks around them teasingly, pulling away briefly to look at you, your eyebrows raising in question as the gears turn in his head, “—you still with me?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if you’re okay with this,” Joel speaks candidly, his eyes trained on his thumb as it rubs against the middle of your throat, traveling up under your chin and tipping your head up slightly, watching as you swallowed, “before I take this further, jus’ need to know.”

You nod jerkily, not even a second of hesitation. 

“You would have known the moment you kissed me, Joel.”

In turn, Joel nods slowly before he speaks, stealing the air from your chest.

“Alright then, pull these down for me,” He tugs gently at the material clinging to your thighs before both of his hands find the spot behind your knees and tug until your feet hit the floor, “and push that pretty little ass out for me.”

The absurdity of this language on his tongue makes you giggle but abide in an instant, struggling slightly as the material bunches at your ankles and Joel helps you the rest of the way, tossing your pants aside before he’s kneeling despite how his body protests, too eager to give you a taste of the pleasure you deserve and he’s grabbing the cheeks of your ass and squeezing them between his hands before he’s leaning up to bite playful at the soft flesh.

He groans quietly against your skin, the press of his aquiline nose against your ass as his fingers fold around the string of your underwear and pull, dropping them down to your ankles and off and then his tongue is flat against the seam of your cunt, gasping as you fall forward and your own fingers clawing against nothing.

“Joel!” You squeak out as his fingers dig hard into your ass, forcing you up on your tiptoes as devours, licking into your cunt as it quivers around his tongue. 

Your hand pressed against the wall in front of you to keep your chest from hitting the washer, feeling your pussy tighten around the finger that enters alongside his expert tongue, a soft groan erupting out of him from behind you. That smug motherfucker was attempting a teasing huh under his breath as he busied himself with the task of eating you out from the back and you couldn’t even think straight. 

‘C’mon, baby,” He coos between his alternating licks and slurps of the heady slick that dripped from your cunt, “come all over my mouth, let me taste that sugar.”

It’s absurd, the way he’s speaking to you now. Your eyes squeeze shut as his thumb finds your clit amongst the chaos of his tongue and fingers, face heating up at how noisy your cunt sounded over the dull shake of the washer and Joel’s satisfied moans, occasionally massaging at the back of your thigh when your legs shake with the creeping feeling of your impending orgasm.

“Oh,” You squeal, reaching behind you to dig your fingers into his hair, panting out in desperation, “—fuck, don’t stop! Joel, right—right there,” and then glance you take back at him, his eyes peeking open from his position below, on his knees and dutiful to you and you alone, well…

It sends you tumbling over the edge as his thumb rubs over your clit quickly, soothing you through the aftermath as he laps up the mess you’ve made all over yourself, dragging his tongue along the inside of your thigh because if you knew anything about Joel, he didn’t waste a meal. 

And you were just about the finest he’s tasted.

You clear your throat as you rest your feet flat on the floor, feeling the faint quake in your legs as Joel rises slowly, forcing you to swallow down a giggle as he winces and he can see it on your face.

“Worth it,” He excuses himself, “don’t look at me like that.”

“No old man jokes?” You sound sad and Joel can’t believe it.

He shakes his head.

But, the smile that breaks out on your face quickly diminishes any comeback he has.

You begin to push him away with a hand gripped in his shirt, carefully avoiding the obvious bulge in his sweats as you reach for your tights, ready to redress and drop to your own knees as a favor but his fingers are wrapping around your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

“I meant it,” Joel tells you, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You smile wide and tilt your head to mirror him, “I think you proved your point—Benny is a pathetic man who doesn’t know how to make me come, blah blah…”

“My job ain’t done if you’re still thinkin’ about him, darlin’.”

His eyebrows raise in challenge.

Okay, you’re game.

Wordlessly you allow the hands at your hip that guide you toward the front of the joined appliances, his fingers sliding under your top until you get the hint to pull it off, your breasts bouncing free from the shirt—the few bras you had were already in the wash, big deal.

Joel chuckles and stops for a moment, admiring the sight of your breasts for the second time that month, albeit more openly this time. He reaches forward and rubs his thumb along your nipple, watching the nub harden under his touch and you bite at your bottom lip, eye fluttering closed at how sensitive they were to touch, something other men never took the time to notice.

“You like that?” Joel asks with a creeping grin.

You nod, watching as he squeezed your tits in his hands, showing your nipples ample attention as he circled them with his thumb before leaning down slightly and swiping his tongue over the hardened nubs, sucking your breast into his mouth and his eyes peer up, gauging your reaction which quickly developed from a soft giggle to a loud moan.

“Clothes,” You breath out, “off—if you still have a point to prove.”

A point that you wanted proven. Hard.

Joel pulls away and yanks his shirt over his head, allowing you an unobscured view of the mix of muscled shoulders and his softened stomach, running your hand over the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, right along his hips until his own fingers hook around the fabric and pull his sweats and boxers down in one motion, his cock catching against the edge of his waistband before it bobs back up toward his stomach.

You find yourself smiling despite yourself, forgetting for a moment that Joel was standing there and watching you, feeling your mouth water at the sight of him hard and leaking at how just getting a small taste of you had turned him on that much, precum leaking slowly from the tip and he wraps his hand around himself, other hand tapping at your chin to drag your attention back up to his face, reminding you he was still there.

“Got somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”

You shake your head furiously, “No, no—no, nothing. Just, uh—”

“I’ll start slow,” He tells you and with the size of him, thick and girthy in ways you’ve only imagined or pictured in your head, it’s daunting, “are you still alright with all of this?”

Your face softens and you nod, appreciating the repeated check-ins, the need for confirmation, but it pulls at your heart as you wonder why he feels the need to ask so much. As if he was fearful you would change your mind on a dime—Joel was fine with that, but he was more worried about the change in dynamic. Thankfully, you were determined for that not to be the case.

“I’m pretty tough,” You shrug, a playful smile gracing your face.

Joel nods absently as his fingers drag along your waist before catching behind your knee and pulling it up over his hip, both of your eyes dragging down to his cock as he tugged at himself a few times, his brow furrowed as he spread your lips apart with the head, dipping his hips down slightly to catch against your hole before he pushes in slow, one solid stroke that steals the sound from your throat and transfers to his own. Joel groans out softly as he pushes into you, his hands gravitating toward your face and wrapping around the sides of your neck, tilting your head back to mouth at your skin, his tongue dragging along your collarbone before sucking and nipping gently at your skin.

“Don’t I know it,” Joel responds after a while, “find something to hold onto.”

Your soft giggle of excitement shoots down to your core and your fingers wrap around the edges of the washer and Joel pulls back swiftly before he’s snapping his hips back into you before repeating the process several times, the jolt of the machine hitting the concrete wall behind you drowned out by your loud moans, quickly swallowed up by Joel’s lips as he pulls your mouth to his, breathing into it with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Harder,” You beg, biting at his bottom lip as he groans, using his fingers intertwined into the hair at the nape of your neck now to pull your head back and he pulls his hips back quick, bottoming himself out inside of you so forcefully you feel like your legs might give out, his cock rubbing against your already too sensitive g-spot and continuously finding a way to bring you closer and closer to the edge, “fuck—yes, yes. Joel, oh my god—”

“Yeah,” Joel goads you, his eyes drawn closed as he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay, “give it to me, baby—wanna watch you make a mess on my cock, alright?”

Easy, you laugh airily and feel the instinctive squeeze of your walls around Joel’s cock as he pulls your face to his, foreheads pressed against each other as he angles his hips back and slams into you one last time before you come undone, head falling back in a similar position to how he caught you a few weeks ago, this time for him. 

Your grab for his shoulders suddenly, blunt fingernails digging into his skin and he takes a few harsh breaths through his nose before he’s pulling out, hand grasping his cock as he jerked himself a few seconds before he comes in thick, short spurts against your stomach, squeezing at the head of his cock as he drags it through the mess he’s made.

His expression is nothing short of mesmerizing, mouth hung open just enough that his tongue can drag over his bottom lip before his teeth are taking its place, eyes drawn to your skin.

Wordlessly, he pulls away on his own pair of shaky legs as he reaches for his wrinkled, worn shirt and brings it to your stomach, cleaning up the mess with a faint smile on his face.

“You know, I think it might take me a bit to fix my washer,” You tease, “so—I might be over here bothering you for a while.”

Joel peers up at you, his head still tucked down as he wiped at your stomach.

“Fine with me.”

Then he’s peering over your shoulder, watching as the washer time inched toward zero, dinging behind you. You turn around, letting your leg fall from his hip finally, ass brush against him in the process and Joel can’t help the way his eyes refuse to leave the sight of it.

Only feeling slightly guilty when you catch him this time, not giving him the pass you usually do.

“We’ve still got about an hour left if I dry them here,” You tell him, “anything else you wanna prove?”

Joel’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, eyes dragging up toward the upper level of his house before flicking back toward you, a smile plastered on your face.

“I can think of a few things.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[thewanderingconstellation]

Dimensional traveling Prince!Danny Fenton & Obsessed but still somewhat sane and logical! Damian Wayne

Just a random DeadSerious prompt I thought of at like 2am :>

Clockwork stumbled upon a peculiar universe where a group of humans had been engaging in bizarre activities. Recognizing the need for investigation, Clockwork assigned the newly announced Prince Phantom, a 14-year-old named Danny Fenton, to venture into this realm. It was a training opportunity for Danny, preparing him for his future role as King. Through a portal, Danny found himself suspended above the Lazarus pit, with Ra's al Ghul standing below him. Fortunately, Danny was dressed in his regal attire, which inexplicably aged him to 18 years old, sparing him from too much embarrassment. Ra's began questioning him, leading to a discussion about the potential dangers of the pit.

During his stay, Danny crossed paths with Damian, who was in the midst of his training. The 8-year-old assassin-in-training wasted no time in challenging Danny to a duel. As expected, Danny emerged victorious, leaving a lasting impact on Damian. Danny revealed that he too was an heir to a throne, possessing strength, power, and a tolerable personality, as Damian had previously remarked. These qualities managed to thaw Damian's cold and unyielding heart, finding a special place within it. From that moment on, Damian began courting Danny using the rituals he had learned from secret books in the league's library. He showered Danny with small gifts, heartfelt letters, acts of service, and even presented him with his second favorite knife.

In the meantime, Danny had been well aware of the situation right from the beginning, and he wasted no time in creating distance between himself and the child. Forget about it! Sure, he might be clueless at times, but he's not foolish! When a child hands you a thornless Rose and affectionately calls you 'Habibi', 'Rohi', 'Hayati', 'Albi', and/or 'Ya Amar'—even though he may not fully understand the meanings behind those words, he definitely knows what 'Habibi' means—you can't help but have doubts, you know?! So Danny tried his best to keep the kid at arm's length, not wanting to give him false hope. After all, the kid was only 8 years old for crying out loud! But you have to give it to the kid, he was incredibly stubborn and persistent.

As time went on, two whole months flew by, and Clockwork finally informed Danny that there was no longer any need for him to investigate or keep an eye on the pit. When Danny asked for an explanation, the old man, true to his cryptic nature, simply delivered a mysterious message and left, much to Danny's annoyance. All he could do was leave a letter of explanation for Damian. Damian's heart shattered into a million pieces when he read the letter, realizing that he would never be able to see or even meet Danny again, as they belonged to different dimensions.

Time flew by and it was finally the moment to reveal his secret identity to his parents as Phantom. Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned and he ended up being captured by the GIW, strapped to a surgical table for three days. After escaping, he made a quick exit from home, promising his friends and sisters that he would keep in touch. Clockwork then whisked Danny away to another dimension, sensing that he needed a change of scenery. Dropping him off in a crime-ridden city with just a backpack of essentials, including a dagger from Damian. As he transformed back to his human form in Gotham, he pondered his next move. Suddenly, a young vigilante? Hero? appeared and whisked him away through the city with a grappling hook. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse!

Damian, now taking on the role of the vigilante Robin, was out patrolling alone. His father wanted him to gain more experience on his own. As he made his way through the city, he noticed a faint but distinct bright light coming from one of the nearby alleys. Curiosity piqued, he decided to investigate.

To his surprise, he saw his beloved from years ago emerging from a strange green portal. Gone was the royal attire Damian was accustomed to seeing him in. Instead, he was clad in a black and white HAZMAT suit, with a symbol in the center. And astonishingly, he even held the second favorite knife that Damian had given him all those years ago.

In a matter of seconds, his beloved transformed into what Damian believed to be a Wayne adoption bait. Without hesitation, he sprinted towards them, landing in front of them and carefully assessing the situation. In one swift motion, he slung his beloved over his shoulder and shot his grappling hook, swiftly taking off with them.

Damian wasn't sure what he would do next, but one thing was certain - he would never let his beloved out of his sight again. He had lost him once, and he refused to lose him again. His possessiveness over the things and people he considered his had grown stronger.

Perhaps he would find a way for them to sign marriage papers, or at least become engaged, despite their young age. Of course, it would only happen if his beloved, Danny, agreed to it. Consent and trust were crucial in any relationship, after all. If Danny disagreed, Damian would resort to the courting rituals his mother had taught him. The conventional methods from books hadn't worked, so he would try his mother's unique approach. Granted, he was technically kidnapping him, but it was only a few steps ahead. Damian was determined to win his beloved's heart, no matter what it took.

[ylangelegy]

i’m actually obsessed with your jealousy prompts…. what’s better than the most jealous mf around???

seungcheol + “they did that on purpose”

★ seungcheol x celebrity!reader ┆ word count: 970 ┆ part of my closed jealousy drabble game.

ⓘ established relationship, secret relationship, pet name ['baby'], angst [if you squint]. combined with another prompt c/o anon: "i'm going to scream."

"I'm going to file a complaint."

Seungcheol is being dead serious, and yet you laugh at him. You laugh!

"Baby," you start to say, your tone edged with that familiar exasperation you take on whenever you think he's being silly. He's having none of it tonight, though. He knows his theory is one hundred percent correct.

And so he juts his lip out in a pout, crosses his arms over his chest, and whines out his next words like he's some teenager instead of a 29-year-old man. "They did that on purpose!"

That, being the recent announcement of who would be the special hosts of MBC's year-end music show. When Seungcheol first caught wind that a member of SEVENTEEN might have the chance to share a stage with you, he had been ecstatic. While your relationship wasn't public knowledge yet, he was ready to make it glaringly obvious should he be chosen to be your co-host.

He's had whole daydreams about the moment. The hand he'd casually rest on the small of your back. The smile he'd give you that would have Twitter speculating for weeks. Maybe he could even post something vague on Weverse afterwards, some cutesy message of I'm so happy~ ❤️

Alas, all his hopes were dashed when the memo about the hosts went out this morning.

"They put you with Jeonghan on purpose," Seungcheol grumbles.

Jeonghan— the one person Seungcheol wouldn't be able to openly go up against. The company must've known Seungcheol would throw his idol image out of the window, must've known that there was only one person who Seungcheol wouldn't pick a fight with.

The fact that Jeonghan is being extra annoying— relentlessly teasing, calling himself 'Mr. Steal-Yo-Girl'— has only added insult to injury.

You reach out to tug Seungcheol into your side. Even though he's technically supposed to be upset, he can't help himself; the leader leans into your touch, draping himself over you.

Your couch has always been way too small for the two of you, even though Seungcheol insist it's a 'perfect' fit. He considers it perfect because he can always pull you into his lap and bury himself in you, which is exactly what he does now despite his sullen mood.

When your fingers instinctively entangle in his hair, a part of him relaxes. That very part bristles just as quickly when you quip, "Well, Jeonghan is the pretty one in the group."

"I'm going to scream," Seungcheol threatens.

You know your boyfriend enough to understand that he's at least half serious. "Alright, alright," you huff, giving his hair a light, reprimanding tug.

Seungcheol hisses at the sensation. You appease him by pressing your lips to his cheek.

You shift in his hold so your gazes can meet. The look on your face only makes Seungcheol's frown deepen. You're enjoying this. You're amused. You're not taking his predicament seriously.

"If he's so pretty," Seungcheol starts, ignoring the way you begin to roll your eyes as you anticipate what's to come.

"If he's so pretty, why don't you date him, then?" he asks, punctuating his words with a dejected sniffle. Seungcheol looks the part of a wounded puppy.

Eyebrows furrowed? Check. Lips pursed? Check. Boba-like eyes, meant to tug at the heartstrings? Check, check, check.

Unfortunately for him, your long-term relationship has steeled you to his petulance. You take his attempt at moping in stride, opting to press another kiss, this time to the corner of his mouth.

"Because I don't want him," you say patiently. "I want you, baby."

The words still manage to make Seungcheol's heart soar. He tries not to let it show on his face. He's trying to prove a point here. He refuses to be won over by sweet nothings, even if you're so lovely as you say them.

"You're going to be on stage with him instead of me." Seungcheol's arms tighten around your waist, his expression darkening slightly. "People are going to ship you."

A surprised bark of laughter escapes you. "How do you know what shipping is, huh?"

"You're changing the subject."

"Baby—"

The words come out of Seungcheol in a rush, fueled by his gripe with management's decision. "I want people to ship us," he grouses. "I want them to look at us and think, 'They look like they'd be the perfect couple,' because we are!"

Something softens in your expression, then, and Seungcheol knows exactly why. Promises of going public have been made since the beginning, but now it's several years in and there's no relationship announcement in sight for either of you.

Seungcheol's voice is quieter, a little more even, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

"I just want everybody to know that I love you," he says, the words muffled against your skin. "And that you love me, too."

You stroke Seungcheol's hair soothingly. He relaxes at the familiar ministration, letting his breaths even out.

"Soon," you mutter. "I promise, baby. We'll get that really soon."

Seungcheol bites back the urge to say that it's been soon for the past three years. This is something beyond both of your control. He's not about to make you feel guilty for something neither of you can change.

He settles for the next best thing. He tilts his head just so, allowing him to catch your lips in a kiss. It's sweet and unhurried. His favorite type.

It's the kind of kiss that makes the endless 'soon's worth it.

When you pull away for air, he wordlessly reaches for his phone. You're a bit out of breath as you watch him angle his screen away from you and type something out.

"What're you doing?" you ask, craning your neck to try and catch a glimpse.

"E-mailing the CEO of MBC," he says matter-of-factly. "To make me your co-host instead of Hannie."

"Choi Seungcheol!"

[swordgrace]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 — 𝐈𝐕.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader.

SYNOPSIS: you and jacaerys go to claw isle, the ancestral seat of house celtigar, to treat with your brother. needless to say, tensions are high.

part of a series, read part three here.

{ FORMAT: one-shot, part of a series.

{ WORD COUNT: 11.7K (another long one).

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), creative liberties taken with claw isle & house celtigar, reader has a poor relationship with her brother, canon-typical misogyny, little bit of plot, lots of smut, overprotective jacaerys, p in v sex, unprotected sex, missionary position, mild breeding kink, first time oral sex (m!receiving), handjobs, cunnilingus, oral sex (fem!rec), body worship (f&m receiving), hair pulling kink, multiple orgasms, making out, lots of love declarations, jace only makes love, everything is extremely gentle, very soft aftercare

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: Finally, it’s here! I’m really trying to get this series squared away before the season ends, but that’s definitely not going to happen. 😭 Nonetheless, I’m going to keep pushing for weekly to bi-weekly uploads with this and work on requests! As always, thank you all so much for your continued love and support! It means the world to me! I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

𝐀 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐞𝐚, 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦, 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭.

Something about it seemed ominous and dark, as if there was an unseen presence lingering in the fog. The thick scent of saltwater stung your nostrils as you flew above the dark waters. It was not ideal weather for travel, especially upon the back of a dragon.

Vermax maintained a steady pace as you and Jacaerys flew to Claw Isle. The journey was lengthy, but the both of you were filled with an inner fire and determination to subdue your brother and bring the Celtigar fleet into the fold. It had been a handful of hours since your departure, growing closer and closer to your home.

If it weren’t for the constant feeling of peril and dread, you would’ve fallen asleep on the saddle, slumped against Jacaerys as he steered the dragon over a vast plane of coastal cliffs. He seemed quiet, contemplative — you assumed he thought of his mother.

Her disappearance to King’s Landing for reasons unknown had put a stressor on the War Council, all in complete disarray. Rhaenys was at the helm in an attempt to steer what was now a rudderless group, and Jacaerys could think of no better person suited to bring a gaggle of old men to heel.

It was important for you to maintain your resolve, support Jacaerys in whatever he needed. He was going to help fight your battles, but you wanted to help him, too. You couldn’t imagine the inner turmoil he was experiencing, calm on the outside. He was so selfless, rarely placing his own needs before your own, and if he did, it wasn’t done willingly.

The view of the ocean from the back of a dragon was enchanting — dark waters stretching as far as the eye could see, a thick haze hovering above, salty droplets of mist peppering across your cheeks as you flew. You neglected to inform Clement of your presence, preferring the element of surprise.

A serpentine cry escaped Vermax as he swooped over a line of trees atop a peninsula, prompting you to gasp and hold on tightly to the saddle. This was only your second time on dragonback, and thankfully, it wasn’t as frightening as the first — even then, they were unpredictable creatures.

“Are you alright?” Jacaerys asked, chest snug against your back, face nearly brushing your shoulder as he guided Vermax away from any cliffsides — for your sake, mostly. Despite the dire situation of the Council, he was more determined than ever to placate your brother. They needed the Celtigar fleet if they were to win the war.

You nodded, grip beginning to slack upon the saddle as the fog of misty clouds began to break, revealing an island in the distance. “We’re nearly there.” You replied, brows furrowing together as you came upon the island. It was strange to be home under such circumstances — you wish it were different.

Claw Isle was somewhat larger than Dragonstone, and Celtigar Keep rose high above the clouds, appearing in all of its glory. It was carved of white stone, turned gray and dark in coloration from many decades of weathering at seaside. It was pointed and arching with high, spindling towers, much of the castle was built in and around the rocky mass it sat atop.

The coastlines were clear, grayish shores that seemed to match the pallor of the Celtigar stronghold. Crackclaw Point, the peninsula, was more inhabited with towns and fishing villages, able to be spotted from where you flew. A lone fisherman on the beach stared overhead at the sight of a dragon making its descent somewhere far from the citadel walls.

A massive bridge connected Claw Isle to Crackclaw Point, an impressive contraption of thick stone that ferried denizens above the violet swell of the ocean’s tides. The banners of crimson crabs against a field of white fluttered in the distance, and you had to steel yourself from becoming trapped within the past.

The memories you held of home were not all bright and mirthful — some were horrible, others good, others muddled somewhere in between. You wondered how Clement would feel about your intrusion, answering his stubbornness and pride with that of a dragon, and then you realized that he would have no choice in the matter.

“Land far along the beach,” You instructed, feeling the steady beat of Vermax’s wings crawl to a halt as he descended. Jacaerys guided him to the shore, and the landing was hard, causing you to lurch forward within the saddle. “We will walk the rest of the way.”

Jacaerys dismounted first, sliding along the olive-and-sienna wing of his dragon, extending his arms out to you. As you moved down, albeit sluggishly, his hands circled your hips, grabbing you and placing you down onto solid ground.

A crack of thunder resonated overhead, accompanied with the swirling, ominous skies of an encroaching storm. Jacaerys held you still, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “If anything happens, you stay by my side.” He murmured, somewhat afraid that it would come to a fight. As long as he could reach Vermax, the odds were exponentially in his favor.

“Of course,” You reassured him, giving his forearms a gentle squeeze on either side of you. “If Clement is willing, we should have our fleet and be off by tomorrow. Though, I fear it might not be such an easy feat.” With a soft sigh, you stretched up upon your toes, kissing Jace with a brief flutter of passion.

It was soothing, being in the presence of one another. Jacaerys found it easier to simply exist with you without worrying about wandering eyes and being caught. You were somewhere unfamiliar, but he did not let his guard down. He reciprocated your kiss, keeping it chaste before the both of you began to walk down the strand.

Vermax paced along the coastline, flying from the wet sand toward the driftwood-strewn inclines and hills, blending in against the backdrop of tall pine trees. The dragon stayed close to Jacaerys’s side, but away from the wandering eyes of any potential hostilities.

Jacaerys felt your hand slip into his as the two of you made your trek to Celtigar Keep. You regailed him with tales of your home, from the massive stone stronghold to the vast amount of treasures that resided within. The dour curtain of veiled clouds hung low upon the strand, covering some of the Keep’s spires in a hazy fog.

It was not unlike Dragonstone in terms of intimidation — any fortress of such a grim caliber was sure to strike fear into those who saw it. Jacaerys found it to be beautiful, but not when an idiotic ruler sat inside of it. He didn’t want to cast judgment upon your brother so quickly, but he was doing very little to garner any sympathy.

“What is your brother like?” Jacaerys questioned, idly tracing his thumb over your knuckles. He wanted to prepare himself for whatever happened — and he had a hunch that he and Clement would butt heads like two rearing elk. “You rarely speak of him.”

There was a good reason for it, given your strained relationship. You hesitated, casting your forlorn gaze towards the beach instead, deciding on how to proceed. “Clement and I have not always had a good relationship,” You confessed, brows furrowing together. “He is stubborn and arrogant, but my father’s enablement of him simply worsened any negative qualities.”

Jacaerys listened closely, recognizing the frustration etched into your features. Whenever you spoke about Clement, it was never anything good. Your voice was often laced with irritation or a subtle pain. “Do you think he will listen to you?” His voice softened at his inquiry.

“I am unsure,” Admitting the bitter truth of the challenge that this mission presented was a hard pill to swallow. “I don’t think he will, but I must persuade him to listen and do what is right. It will be comforting to have you here with me.” You replied, offering Jace a threadbare smile.

“I wouldn’t have let you go alone,” Jace murmured, a tender smile tugging at either corner of his mouth. He feared becoming tempestuous in your brother’s presence — if hostilities or insults were hurled, there was no telling what he would do. “Is this the Keep where you grew up in?” He asked, motioning to the castle ahead.

The ocean lived within your blood just as much as that of Old Valyria — saltwater and the tides, intermingled with that of ancient ancestry. “Yes,” You replied, gaze drifting toward the scaling fortress of naval power, its walls and towers decorated with some oceanic motif. “It looked much brighter when I was younger.”

Jacaerys could envision you, a wide-eyed child, with a love of the sea, playing somewhere along the coast with the overbearing ire of your father. It was much like Driftmark, only Celtigar Keep was thrice the size and more like some dour mausoleum than a true castle.

“Should I worry about any hostilities from your brother?” Jace questioned, keeping one palm atop the pommel of his blade. The sword had been a gift from Daemon — despite the rift, it was an item of sentimental significance.

“My brother is half the fighter that you are, so I suspect not. His tongue is sharper than his blade — he wields insults instead of a sword.” You explained, and as you walked along the strand, the Keep became close and closer, coming into your focus. “Do not give him any satisfaction, or he will use it against you.”

It was good information to have, and Jace nodded, resolute and stalwart as his gaze turned from Celtigar Keep to you. There was a softness that found his features whenever he glanced at you, and he wanted nothing more than to steal you away and shower you with his affections.

Perhaps, if you were to stay at Celtigar Keep, he would be presented with ample opportunities.

It was foolish to think that way given the dire nature of your mission, providing his mother with an army and a fleet. The excitable, amorous nature of youth prevailed, but Jacaerys had other motives that offered some context to his desire. He’d been mulling it over for some time now, and the way forward had never been clearer.

As the both of you made it to the bridge, you crossed until you were faced with the bolted Gate of the Crab, a massive stone-wrought wall armed with crossbows and footsoldiers bearing the Celtigar tabard. They blocked your path, looking between you and Jacaerys with an air of concern and bewilderment.

“Who goes there?” A guard questioned, extending a polearm to bar your path.

“Lady Celtigar, daughter of Lord Bartimos, and Prince Jacaerys Velaryon of Dragonstone, son of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and heir to the Iron Throne.” You announced, happening to earn a brief smile from Jace’s end. He thoroughly enjoyed the way you introduced him, regal and with a lengthy list of titles and accolades to reinforce his position, and yours.

Both of the guards appeared shocked, glancing between one another before looking at you and Jace. He stood with his hands interlocked atop the pommel of his sword, crimson cape billowing in the wind. It bore the black-and-red Targaryen sigil, doublet stitched with silver dragons and intricate patterns.

“What business does the Prince have with Lord Celtigar?” A guard piped up, demanding a suitable answer before allowing either of you inside. He addressed Jacaerys with a certain level of sternness, as if it would intimidate him — it didn’t in the slightest.

“It does not matter whether or not I have business with your lord. What matters is that Lady Celtigar is here to treat with her brother — why deny her that satisfaction?” Jacaerys quipped, brows furrowing together. His abilities in diplomacy and action had improved greatly since his time with Lord Cregan Stark in the North.

A wariness grew between the guards, who looked to the crossbowmen supplanted along the walls, and the back to the both of you. Still, they hesitated on letting either of you inside — until Vermax appeared. The dragon let out a screech, flying right over the bridge you stood upon before circling around into the thicket of pines.

Jacaerys smiled triumphantly, head canting to one side. “Surely, you will not deny us now.” He quipped, hovering protectively at your flank, curls billowing with the saltwater breeze. The guards swallowed whatever fear had risen into their throats, and promptly stepped aside, opening up the gates.

You fought to withhold the look of amusement upon your face, passing through the Crabgate with Jacaerys. Having Vermax at your side was an excellent idea, and you had to credit Jace for his ingenious use of dragons. Diplomacy wasn’t something either of you were used to, but it was a role worth growing into.

The grounds of Celtigar Keep were vast, an oceanic aesthetic interwoven into the architecture. The sigil of the red crab was everywhere you looked, repeated again and again. Jacaerys appeared perplexed, brows furrowing together as he observed his surroundings. It reminded him much of Driftmark.

The castle now seemed aware of your presence, the Lady Celtigar and the Heir to the Iron Throne, walking in-tandem toward the Great Hall. The guards allowed you passage through the courtyard and the grounds of the Keep, the hall looming in the distance, wreathed in a shroud of gray mist.

Jacaerys steeled himself for what was to come, meeting your brother head-on in his own home. From what little of him you’d described, he was his own age, nine-and-ten, bullheaded with little knowledge of how to truly rule. A challenge that he welcomed, truthfully — if he was to one day ascend the throne, he would need to know how to deal with unruly subjects.

A set of stairs ascended towards the Great Hall, marked by braziers, crabs holding large bowls with still-smoldering embers inside. The hour was beginning to grow late, sometime in the evening, and you and Jacaerys were both weathered from the journey.

As the guards opened the doors to the Great Hall, it was nothing more than a large room, dome-shaped with windows above, allowing for natural light to trickle through. Each column that held the hall aloft were wreathed in stone motifs of crabs and seaweed, winding down toward the floor.

In the primary seat of House Celtigar, a throne fashioned from the very rock that the Keep stood upon, sat your brother, Clement. He seemed less than enthused with your presence, but perplexed nonetheless, gaze drifting between both yourself and Jacaerys.

“You could’ve sent a raven, sister. I had no idea of your coming to Claw Isle,” Clement sat slumped within his supposed throne, one hand tucked into a fist beneath his chin, the other tapping against the stone arm. “It seems you’ve brought a guest.”

“In your colorful missive to me, you implored me to not send any more ravens,” You retorted, folding your hands together. “I did what anyone would do — came to see you in-person.” It had been two years, and Clement seemed older in the face, but his demeanor hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Clement scoffed, brows furrowing together at your snide comment. You were determined and ambitious, he would give you that, but he was prepared to turn you down immediately. “You’ve come here to do what, exactly? Demand half of my fleet? Admonish me for sending our father away? What outcome did you expect from this?”

Jacaerys answered instead, his tone steely and measured, the kingly voice of a man striving to fight for his mother’s claim and his own. “We expect half of your forces, as promised. Your house swore an oath to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen — do not make your family look foolish.” He retorted, visage one of stalwart composure, a glare thrown in Clement’s direction.

“Remind me — who are you?” Clement questioned, his tone tinged with an edge of mockery as he looked upon Jacaerys with disdain. Two young men of different morals and caliber preparing to butt heads — you couldn’t imagine that this would go well.

“Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, son of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne,” He declared, hands interlocked atop the pommel of his sword. “Ensuring that you hold your oath fulfilled.” Jacaerys did not like your brother — there was an arrogance there that irritated him.

Clement scoffed, turning his attention to you again, hands folding together within his lap. “Brought your Prince with you, did you, sister?” He sneered, his expression sour before he shook his head. “Where is that dragon of yours? Shall you burn me where I stand if I do not do as the Queen demands?”

“My Lord, your house is pledged to Queen Rhaenyra, surely you will not —” One of Clement’s advisers, Lord Mydas Smythe, an older man with a rather bushy set of brows, implored your brother to listen to reason.

“The fleet is needed here, in the defense of Claw Isle and Crackclaw Point. Ser Criston Cole is parading through the Riverlands, unchecked and unchallenged. Soon, he will turn his sights to us. Though, I will show you kindness and give you two ships — for your troubles.” Clement snapped, waving a hand dismissively at Lord Smythe.

“You seem very worried for a man cowering behind his castle walls,” Jacaerys relented, shoulders squaring up against Clement, dark brows furrowed together in a look of complete and utter spite. “Since you have your armies and acclaimed fleet, why not ride out and meet Cole yourself?”

Clement’s mouth twitched, throat growing thick with rage as he was put in his place before his Court, by a boy with little experience of anything. “I cannot say I’ve heard much of your valor either, Prince of Dragonstone. Instead, you’ve come to play politics with my airheaded sister.”

“Mind your tongue before Lady Celtigar.” Jacaerys’s voice was sharp and smoldering with rage when Clement so blatantly insulted you, and he nearly retorted again if it weren’t for you. He bristled, jaw unnaturally tense as he prepared to fight for your honor.

Your hand slyly tugged upon the sleeve of his doublet, urging him not to act just yet. He remained quiet, adhering to your advice as he silently fumed, glaring at Clement with all of the tempestuous ferocity of a young dragon. If a look could burn one where they stood, your brother would’ve been ash and bone.

“I would ask you to reconsider,” Your voice subtly quivered, anxiousness beginning to get the better of you. “Please, Clement. This is the cause our father pledged to — and it is a worthy one. We cannot have our house branded as oath breakers. Do not throw everything away for the sake of your pride.”

Your brother’s nostrils flared, fingers clenching together into a tight fist as he fought to maintain his composure before his small court. “My pride?” He quipped, tone harsh and unyielding before he exhaled, turning away for a brief moment. “I will have my answer for you on the morrow. For now, you are guests in my Keep — do not take advantage of my hospitality.”

Perhaps, you had gotten to Clement, even if it was for the briefest of moments. Your father had always favored your brother, but pushed him too far — excelling in everything, shoved to the very edge of greatness at the cost of his own sanity.

Lord Smythe seemed rather disappointed in Clement’s lack of action and propriety. The older man looked to you with a withering expression, visibly apologetic before he bowed and took his leave. You offered him a thin smile, one of subtle reassurance.

The halls remained eerily quiet, thick with a strained tension that threatened to erupt between Clement and Jacaerys, in particular. You wanted to avoid a physical confrontation — and you knew that Jace wouldn’t shy away, being twice the fighter that your brother was.

Despite Jace’s desire to continue pressing him, he yielded, hands gripping the pommel so tightly that it threatened to snap into two. He hated the way Clement treated you, as if you were insignificant and unimportant, more of a nuisance than true family.

One of the guards stepped in as Clement stood from the Celtigar seat, giving you a disparaging stare before he disappeared, slipping through one of the crab-adorned doors. Knights in his service followed dutifully, leaving you and Jacaerys in the Great Hall, save for the presence of guardsmen and a handful of advisors.

The halls of Celtigar Keep were incredibly familiar to you, and the guard inevitably escorted you and Jacaerys to your chambers, your quarters down the corridor from his own. Yours happened to be the very same you stayed in for most of your life, until you were made to become Rhaenyra’s lady-in-waiting.

Your chambers were far more lavish than your humble accommodations on Dragonstone, but you much preferred it to Celtigar Keep. Here, everything seemed hollow, and memories stirred with you — most of them evoked a sense of melancholy. You hoped that your time here was short and fleeting, if it all went in your favor.

𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

You had barely touched your food, pacing your newfound surroundings, studying the old decorations you had scattered about your chambers.

Many fixings had belonged to you since childhood — relics of your youth scattered atop the mantle above the hearth, gowns tucked away that you hadn’t worn since your teenage years. It evoked a strong sense of nostalgia, perhaps a yearning for the past.

Jacaerys did not want to stay put in his assigned chambers for long. With haste, he stealthily moved through the door and made for your room, unseen and filled with a sense of excitement.

Before you could leave to sneak away to Jacaerys’s room, he was already at your door, quietly slipping inside with his belongings, silvery platter of seafood included. “Are you going somewhere?” You questioned, watching as he hastily stepped across the room to set his meal beside yours.

“No,” Jacaerys replied, facing you with a soft expression. “Just here,” He hesitated, searching your face for any sign of discomfort or protest at his subtle request. He cared very little for the repercussions or consequences — you were no longer on Dragonstone, and the scrutiny of your relationship wasn’t something that worried him. “If you are agreeable to it.”

A smile spread across your features, vibrant and uplifting despite the charged, dour situation earlier that evening. “There is nowhere else that I’d want you to be,” You replied, heart stirring within your chest as your stomach filled with the excitable churning of butterflies. “If you didn’t come, I would’ve found my way to you eventually.”

Content and warmed by your words, Jacaerys found it difficult to suppress a grin of his own, mirth twinkling within his eyes. “There aren’t as many wandering eyes here,” He mused, placing his knapsack on top of your footlocker. “I thought perhaps, I could stay this time — until the dawn.”

A semblance of delight rippled through you, accompanied with your still-flourishing love for him. Jacaerys being here meant a great deal to you, more than he would ever realize. To have him insist that he share your bed until morning made you most elated. “Please stay.” You insisted.

He made himself comfortable, careful gaze absorbing each and every detail of your chambers. The relics and trinkets organized on shelves intrigued him, some of them being handmade dragons and knights. Jace picked up one of them, crafted from stone, turning it over within the light.

“I am sorry for my brother,” You sighed, shrugging your overcoat aside, draping it over the foot of your bed. The gowns you wore beneath were tattered and muddied at the ends, used for traveling and practical purposes. “I did not want you to be the subject of his ire.”

Jacaerys’s jaw tensed slightly at mention of your brother, whose tongue would be cut away if he made another insult against you. “He sullies your good name,” He murmured, brows furrowing together as he studied the intricacies of your chambers. “I apologize if I lost my temper. I loathed the way he spoke to you.”

Admittedly, you felt quite the opposite — his protectiveness over you was incredibly attractive and gallant, qualities that you adored about him. “I do believe that he needs to be humbled, and you do it so brilliantly.” You replied, fidgeting with the ends of your sleeves. It was an old dress made for travel. “Thank you for defending me.”

His brown hues softened once more, dancing with an immeasurable amount of affection for you, a bright ardor that refused to be snuffed out. “You needn’t thank me,” Jacaerys stepped closer, lips briefly pressing against your forehead. “I will always protect you, until my last breath.” His words were a solemn vow, not easily broken.

With a soft exhale, you squeezed his hand, careening into his warm embrace. “Are you hungry? We could eat, if you’d like. I suspect that nothing will come of this evening until we treat with my brother tomorrow.” You sighed, knowing that waiting would make everything worse.

“Plenty of time on our hands,” Jacaerys chimed, yet his honeyed words seemed thick with implications of how to fill your unoccupied time. It was on your mind just as heavily, yet you pretended to be clueless, canting your head to one side. “Let’s eat.”

It would give the both of you ample time to figure out some play or strategy when it came to Clement. You knew that with enough pressure and whittling, he would finally obey your demands. Nevertheless, you didn’t want to plague your mind with doubt — not now, anyway.

Lukewarm seafood sat piled upon porcelain plates, accompanied by generous helpings of roasted vegetables and hunks of half-stale bread. It was better than scraps or rations, and you led Jacaerys toward the small, ornate table situated within your quarters.

It felt so blissful like this — alone with him, basking in the moment, enjoying a meal together without fear of interruptions or speculation. You sat diagonally from one another, candlelight dancing atop the driftwood table as you cut into your filet of fish.

“If we cannot convince your brother to deliver on his oath, what then?” Jacaerys asked, jaw tensing. He didn’t want to fight your brother, but if that’s what was needed of him, he would do it without question. “We cannot return home empty-handed.”

Your shoulders sank in a brief sigh. “Clement is foolish, arrogant, and stubborn — but he knows when to give it up. This is all some display and spectacle meant to goad me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.” Glancing at Jace, you seemed more determined than ever. “And neither should you.”

That would be a difficult feat, biting his tongue while your brother assailed you with bitter, venomous words. Jacaerys would sooner cut his tongue for it than sit idly by while you suffered. “I won’t let him tarnish your honor, and I will not sit by while he insults you. I cannot do it.” He replied, shaking his head.

“Sometimes, that is what you have to do, Jacaerys. I promise that I can handle it. I just — I don’t want you to fall prey to his viciousness, that’s all.” You loved all of Jacaerys — everything about him was good, even his sharp tongue and quick temper.

Jace stared at you, love burning within his eyes, coupled with that of an unwavering devotion. “I wouldn’t stoop to that level,” He reached for your hand, digits tracing across the ridges of your knuckles. “Not with you.” Solemn and stalwart, he squeezed your fingers, and you returned the gesture.

“You’re a good man, Jacaerys.” You crooned, steadfast in your belief in him, in your own devotion. Part of you always feared that the fantasy would fade and duty would pledge him to another, but so far, it hadn’t happened yet. You hoped that it stayed that way. “I am fortunate to keep your company.”

He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss atop your knuckles before he released you, returning to his food with disinterest. “My heart is yours,” It was the same, saccharine assurance he’d stated time and time again. “Until the end of my days.”

Jacaerys wanted this for the rest of his life — and he could have it. He was going to ask you. Perhaps not now, but the moment felt right, and it could be upon him instantaneously if he wasn’t prepared. The idea of you being his wife, enjoying meals like this in the sanctuary of your chambers together, unperturbed by prying eyes — he wanted this, and he wanted you.

Through deliberate bites of sautéed seafood, Jacaerys gazed at you with a doe-like expression, studying your beautiful features, the way you treated him to a smile when you caught him staring. He was the fortunate one, the luckiest man alive in the realm to have fallen in love with you, and with every breath he drew, he only loved you more.

When you caught his smoldering gaze, you felt a familiar warmth dance along the length of your spine. Smitten, you absentmindedly dabbed at the corner of your mouth with your cloth. “Do I have something on my face?” You questioned, feeling gluttonous for consuming your food so quickly.

Seafood was a commonality on Claw Isle, but it tasted wonderful each time — perhaps it was the familiarity of it and the warmth of home that made you feel this way. Nonetheless, you sat back within your seat, feeling undeniably hot beneath Jacaerys’s tender stare.

“You’re incredibly beautiful, that's all.” He hummed, heart swelling tenfold when you began to giggle. Jace wondered if it seemed too silly, doting on you during dinner, but you didn’t protest whatsoever. “You have nothing on your face, if it makes you feel better.”

His sweetly-spoken compliments made your insides melt, turning to a pool of heat as you played with your fork. You smiled at Jacaerys as if he were the sun itself, warm and vibrant, keeping you in his orbit. “I love you.” You hummed, and as you finished your meal, you gently stood up, pressing a kiss against the top of his head in-passing.

Jacaerys felt his features turn warm with a rosy coloration, though he wondered what you were doing, watching as you paced across your chambers. You knelt beside the hearth, adding more kindling and wood onto the fire before you dusted your hands off on your skirts.

“These chambers were my home for the longest time,” You sighed, peering over the gray walls, decorated in plenty of your own furnishings and personal touches. “It is strange to be back here, but having you with me makes it all much more bearable.”

Removing himself from the table, he joined you in touring your quarters, following you past the small set of doors into the sanctity of your bedroom. It hadn’t been used in years, everything perfectly in-place, the same as you left it. You opened up your wardrobe with a huff of laughter.

“What is it?” Jacaerys asked, head canting to one side as you removed one gown in particular. It was resplendent and beautifully-made, handcrafted with silver embroidery against fields of cream and crimson — the colors of House Celtigar.

“My father had this made for me when he attempted to find me suitable marriage prospects,” You explained, chewing at the inside of your cheek. Thankfully, you were sent away before you could be married to some middle-aged man from the Stormlands. “I never did get to wear it.” You mused.

He envisioned you in it so very clearly — perfection incarnate, in his eyes. Jacaerys’s gaze softened at the sight of you, exuberant and smiling at him with affection interwoven into your features. “You would look beautiful in it,” He murmured, lips twitching into a soft smile. “Though, you look enchanting in anything and everything.”

You loved him so deeply, letting it seep into your bones, filling you with an insurmountable feeling of ardor. Being alone with him without fear of intrusion was a wonderful feeling, something that you wished you could have more of — on Dragonstone and everywhere else.

With a soft exhale, you stowed the dress aside, gently shutting the massive, gilded doors to your wardrobe before peering to the window. It was nearly sundown, the sunset hidden behind darker sheets of gray, thick clouds, but nighttime was close on its heels.

“Did your father ever succeed in finding you a suitable betrothal?” Jacaerys inquired, picturing you in that gown, standing by his side when he asked your father for your hand. The question was innately harmless, perhaps his own curiosity getting the best of him, but he needed to know.

The question blindsided you, filling you with a sense of mild bewilderment as you cleared your throat. “No,” It was better that way — if you had been betrothed, you might’ve never formed the bond with Jacaerys that you had. You wouldn’t trade it for anything. “He did not, and I am thankful for it — I met you.”

Jacaerys gazed at you with true love, brown hues swirling with tenderness and an adoration that drowned out everything else. He could no longer imagine his existence without you in it, and he loathed to think what could’ve happened had you already been promised to another.

Now, that possibility to become a union seemed very real, a reality that was just within his grasp, so visceral and raw that even he could see it in his mind’s eye. Jacaerys smiled at that, briefly pressing a kiss against your temples before he settled down. “I am thankful for it, too.” He confessed, voice soft and assured.

“I’m going to change out of this dreadful thing,” You mumbled, pinching the muddied fabric between your fingertips as you cleared your throat. “Are you tired?” Admittedly, exhaustion hadn’t gripped you yet — you were somewhat awkward, having Jacaerys here in your chambers.

There was no need to hurry, no suspicions, nothing to rush — it was just the both of you until tomorrow. Of course, there were always certain proclivities on your mind, but you held your tongue, for now.

“Not entirely,” Jacaerys replied, removing his leather belt and scabbard, placing both beside the foot of your bed. It was beautiful, with four towering posts draped in a curtain of cerulean silk. Even he felt the unusual tension, attempting to alleviate it with a smile. “I suppose I’ll join you.”

Something gnawed at him — the very same question he’d been mulling over within his mind for a week now, perhaps even before then. Jacaerys observed in rapturous silence as you removed an embroidered evening slip from your wardrobe, the silk nearly translucent, the color of sage.

He swallowed the growing lump within his throat, attempting to quell his nerves, but to no avail. Jacaerys had never known fear quite like this before — there were different shades of terror. The fear of death and loss, a fear of war, perhaps — but none so great as a fear of rejection.

You sluggishly peeled away your coarse dress, tugging at the leather ties as it loosened, slack upon your body. It was tattered and trimmed with mud at the edges, prompting you to toss it somewhere onto the floor. The smallclothes you wore were much of the same, common garments crafted for travel.

A semblance of sweet warmth and ardor seemed to make a permanent residence upon Jace’s features as he watched you disrobe. Those brown hues of his traced over your delicate curves, every facet of your physique committed to memory.

Your beauty was one only described in fairytales and the ballads written by wayward poets — a beauty that Jacaerys often found himself in awe of. As you carefully pried away your smallclothes to put on the silken slip in its place, his breath caught within his throat.

This could be his life — he could not picture it without you anymore. It all seemed so gray and lonely without you by his side, without your steadfast support and belief in him, without your love. If the future was as bright as he imagined it to be, he could see you as his Queen, his wife, his equal in all things.

Perhaps it was his duty to make his intentions known — to have his mother’s blessing before swearing an oath, to have the favor of your father, but it all seemed inconsequential. He no longer feared consequences, no longer feared the brashness of such a decision.

War would continue to ravage the Seven Kingdoms, consuming all with it, perhaps his own life, should it go in such a route. If he perished, what then? The love he had for you would endure, the mark he left upon your life would endure, but what of your bond? What of marriage, of your union?

Jacaerys could not continue on without asking you the most important question he would ever ask.

“Be my wife.”

Time stood still, and you swore that your heart exploded within your chest. You couldn’t believe it, unsure if you had heard Jacaerys right or if it was all a very wonderful fantasy. Turning upon your heel, you faced Jacaerys with a bewildered, shocked expression.

“What?” With your voice barely above a whisper, you felt your stomach swirling with butterflies, an incendiary heat licking across your spine with a fervor. Your hands wrung together, folded across your midsection.

Jacaerys’s lips parted as he stood taller, shoulders squaring as he approached you, hands seizing yours as he reaffirmed his love for you. “I am so desperately in love with you,” He whispered, attempting to catch his breath, thumbs tracing across your knuckles. “I cannot imagine a life without you, and I cannot imagine continuing to go on knowing that I am not your husband.”

“Jacaerys.” You gasped, unable to withhold the swell of emotions that stirred within you. Tears pricked at your eyes, a byproduct of the onslaught of sentiment you felt, all hitting you at once. It was an amalgamation of adoration, devotion, love, passion — it all seemed to wash over you immediately.

“I would ask you to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms — together, with me. I would ask that you marry me upon the shores of Dragonstone, amongst fire and brimstone, salt and sea,” Jace murmured, gently pressing his forehead against yours for a brief moment. “I would ask that you allow me to hold your heart forever.”

Disbelief rippled through you, the initial shock dissipating into the unbelievable love you had for him — an ardor that transcended any bonds of propriety. You loved him fiercely yet gently, loved him for everything he was and everything he would be. You lifted your joined hands to your chest.

“There is no one else for me in this world, Jacaerys Velaryon,” You crooned, pressing your lips against his palm. “I am yours, until my last day — and I will love you forever.” You felt his breath hitch slightly as you drew closer, snug against his chest as you gave him a rather exuberant smile, eyes sparkling with tears. “Nothing would please me more than marrying you.”

Relief flooded through him, and the weight of fear lifted from his shoulders. It was enough to make him audibly sigh with joy as he reached to cup your face, swiping away at the singular tear falling across your cheek. He was smiling so much that it almost made his chest burst with happiness.

“We are betrothed,” The overwhelming excitement that crept into your tone was difficult to miss, and you wanted to kiss him a thousand times over. “I cannot wait to refer to you as my husband.” An ebullient giggle escaped you when Jacaerys picked you up, spinning you in a circle as he caged you in against his chest.

His mouth sought yours, the kiss charged with an excitable passion as he held you close, hands kneading at your curves through the thin silk. “My wife, the most perfect woman in all of the realm,” He mused, thumbs drawing slow circles into your hips. “You are mine, and I am yours.” Jace whispered.

Again, you clamored for a kiss, turning the joy of your shared moment into passion, manifesting into the first inklings of desire. He was quick to reciprocate, continuing to gently feel along your body, your perfect curves hidden beneath such sheer fabrics.

You kissed him hard, hands dragging towards his tunic, tugging at the collar of it as your kiss melted from sweet and innocuous to passionate. The feeling of not having to limit yourself or fear intrusion was exhilarating — and you hoped that it meant there would be plenty of time for exploration.

It was only when he pulled away just slightly to gaze at you did you realize how much this meant to you, how much you loved him. You wanted all of him — his heart and his intellect, protective nature, his body and soul. Your hands continued to trace across his clothed chest, lips parted slightly.

“I want to take my time with you,” Jacaerys murmured, fingers gently sweeping across the now-faded cut upon your brow, tucking hair behind your ear. “If you’ll allow me the pleasure.” He never proceeded without your consent, gazing at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

The familiar sting of arousal pooled between your legs, accompanied by a wave of heat. He spoke so tenderly, digits continuing to caress along your brow, swiping down towards your cheek. “Of course.” You whispered, hands skimming beneath his tunic. “As long as you’ll allow me to return the favor.”

A pang of exhilaration rippled through him as he nodded, lips twitching into a smile. He didn’t know what you meant by returning the favor, but it intrigued him. There was nothing that could stop either of you — and he intended on savoring every moment with you.

You gently coaxed him toward the plush armchair near your vanity, easing him down against the cushions. Jacaerys sat upright, hands moving toward your hips again, kneading into your pliant flesh. It allowed you to stoop down, lips molding against his as your fingers found the hem of his tunic again.

Clothing shuffled against eager hands as you removed Jacaerys’s tunic, graced with lean, pale muscle and a canvas of freckles beneath your palms. You planted your hands against his chest, fingertips dancing over every freckle, every line of taut muscle.

Jace shuddered at your exploratory embrace, savoring the feeling of your fingers tracing every inch of him, committing his musculature to memory. “I wanted to try something, if you’ll let me.” You murmured, lowering yourself to your knees before him.

There was an instantaneous notion of shock, Jacaerys’s eyes widened in surprise as he swallowed the growing lump within his throat. “What — What are you doing?” He asked, throat hoarse with desire. “You do not have to, never feel obligated to do such things, I —”

“Jacaerys,” You interjected, ensuring that your voice was barely above a whisper. Your palms soothingly caressed along his thighs, and his cock immediately roused, stirring within his breeches. “I want to please you. I would like to try, that’s all.” He still seemed apprehensive, but obliged nonetheless.

He preferred to serve you, face between your legs, tongue savoring your sweetness. He imagined that it was something he could do after this, but for now, he simply tried to relax and let you try something new. Goosebumps coalesced along his spine as your digits reached for the ties of his trousers, loosening them up.

A sliver of him couldn’t deny the thrill and exhilaration that coursed through him, the excitement. You were breathtakingly beautiful, ethereal and everything he had ever wanted, there in the flesh. “You are beautiful.” He whispered, staring at you with doe-like eyes.

Warming beneath his softly-spoken compliment, you preened, lips twitching into a comely smile. “As are you.” You assured, feeling his lips find yours for a brief moment as you freed his cock, taking his hardened length into your silky palm.

Jacaerys sat back as best as he could, lips parted, visibly flustered as you began to stroke from base to tip, thumb tracing over the flushed head. He groaned, hands gripping the back of the settee with all of his strength. It felt incredible — you only enhanced everything.

Your palm spread out against his thigh, giving you a perch, something to brace yourself against as you wrapped your mouth around the head of his cock. A sharp exhale escaped Jacaerys, whose body trembled from the foreign sensation, hand suddenly reaching down to find yours.

It was intimate, a sweet gesture despite the lewd act, digits twining together atop his thigh. Your mouth was soft and incredibly gentle, exploratory at your core as you bobbed your head in sluggish, rhythmic motions. Jace felt hot, unable to focus, but he did not force you to do anything more.

“Gods, you are incredible.” He breathed, stomach churning with a fiery heat, a sensation that mirrored your own. Molten liquid pooled within the pit of your belly, coalescing between your thighs at the sound of Jace’s pleasure. Instead of tugging on your hair, he simply caressed your cheek, watching for any sign of discomfort on your end.

With Jace’s fingertips carefully tracing across your face, you continued to tease his cock, hand stroking in sure movements as your mouth did the rest. It was brief, fleeting laps of your tongue across the head of his cock or suckling upon it altogether.

It felt strange and slightly sloppy, as if you weren’t doing something correctly, but instinct guided you. Jacaerys seemed to enjoy it regardless, hips occasionally jolting forward, followed by a soft, mumbled apology. He held himself in-check, squeezing your hand when you kissed along his length.

There was a vast amount of tenderness between the both of you, allowing for everything to be handled with gentleness and care. He didn’t push you or coax you further, simply relaxed and allowed you to do however much or little you wanted.

Between the shy laps of your tongue intermingled with the ministrations of your hand, Jacaerys worried about how long he would last in this state. Your mouth was divine, bringing him closer to a blissful beyond, abdomen tightening with a flurry of arousal.

The bitter slick of precum oozed along his length, but you paid little attention to it, continuing to pump your hand along his cock. Instead, you peppered sweet kisses against his thigh and hips, causing him to seize up and groan.

His countenance was one of beauty, contorted into a look of sheer bliss, eyes closed, mouth agape as his head rolled back against the lounge. Your fingers remained interlocked, his thumb occasionally grazing your knuckles as you kissed towards his abdomen.

Your hand remained steadfast, caressing his cock, allowing your fingers to stroke from base to tip. Jace let out a husky moan, hand involuntarily reaching for your hair. His grip was delicate, digits gingerly kneading at your scalp. The sensation was incredible, and even you felt some satisfaction from it.

The suddenness of his release seemed to catch him off-guard, muscles tense and seizing, pleasure unfurling within his stomach like a wildfire. Jacaerys moaned your name, a sound so divine coming from his mouth. He trembled in the aftermath, visage flushed with embarrassment.

He felt pitiful for this, but he couldn’t help himself, shaking from the intensity of it all. “I did not mean to …” Before Jacaerys could speak another word, you pressed your hand against his mouth.

“It was perfect.” You corrected, palm slick with his seed as you stood to clean yourself, finding a towel sitting along the edge of your vanity. You returned to do the same for him, dutifully cleaning the sticky spend from his stomach.

Visibly flustered, Jace cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter as he attempted to compose himself again. He wanted to give you more — everything, if he could. “I do not want to stop.” He whispered, gazing at you with a look of desire, hand reaching to cup your face.

That alone was enough to make your insides melt, lips parting as you nodded several times over. “Neither do I.” You breathed, and with that, your mouths collided in a fury, ardor and want bleeding through, consuming the both of you in a tidal wave.

His cock twitched again, lust renewed, yet his love for you seemed to outweigh everything else. He made sure to loosely tie his breeches up again — not that they would be on for much longer, at this pace. Jacaerys kissed you again and stood, offering you his hand.

You took it, as a lady would a prince, and he immediately pulled you into his arms, sweeping you right up off of the ground. He carried you gallantly, cradling you to his chest as you smiled, coaxing him in for a sweet kiss. Jace carried you to your bed, placing you down against the silken sheets and feathered duvet.

“I love you,” He murmured, finding his footing between your legs, the silken slip coming to gather around your hips. Despite the sensuality of it all, the lust and carnal appetites you held for one another, love conquered it all, and tenderness prevailed. “Ñuha hūra embar.”

My moonlit sea — the love of his life.

A gentle fluttering stirred within your chest, the sound of your heart calling his name — you would never love another. It was Jacaerys’s name upon your mind, emblazoned into your very bones. You kissed him, the fire stoked, even if it wasn’t a raging one.

As he neared you, your fingers found their purchase within his mane of thick curls, tugging on them incessantly, mouth tangling with his. A breath apart, you held him close, feeling the chill of saltwater air brush along your legs.

“I love you, Jacaerys.” You whispered, allowing it to slip from your lips a few times more, and he was lost in you. Jacaerys’s hands moved to the hem of your nightgown, aiming to rid you of the thin fabric, exposing yourself to him completely.

Each time he saw you bare, it was like the first time all over again — in-awe of your beauty, completely and utterly unparalleled. His mouth found the delicate curve of your jaw, kissing you in a slow, steady trail down your neck, and then to the hollow of your throat.

Every kiss was warm and lingering — he took his time with you, finding no reason to rush. His lips felt like hot brands, emblazoning themselves upon your flesh. Jace kissed across your collarbone, and you began to shift with anticipation. You wanted his face between your thighs, his hands interlaced with yours.

Jacaerys found the plush swell of your breasts, mouth kissing along each one, over your nipples, and through your sternum. He was careful, intentionally savoring each and every kiss, drinking in your presence as if it were his lifeblood.

He delved lower, shuddering when he felt your fingers find his crown of tousled curls, mouth embracing your stomach until he found your hips. The moment was incredibly intimate, with Jace kissing wherever his mouth could reach, ensuring that you received every last drop of his affections.

You were a goddess — perfection incarnate, breathtakingly beautiful beneath him. Jacaerys’s mouth graced your thighs, shoulders spreading them apart as he kissed his way down to your slick core. Heat washed over him in the wake of discovering how aroused you already were.

This was something he’d sorely missed, the taste of your cunt — his patience certainly paid off. You watched with wide, doe-like eyes as Jacaerys’s head buried itself between your thighs, the rest of him flattened against the feather-bed. His hands carefully traced along your thighs before they held your hips in-place.

“Jace,” You moaned, craving the sensation of his mouth against your core. His tongue raked hot embers over your cunt, deliciously slow, ensuring that he took his time with tasting you. Your hand flew to his curls, eliciting a soft groan from him, too. “Gods, don’t stop — please!”

He was insatiable, hunger swelling within him as he took to lapping at your cunt, tongue splitting past your folds. Your thighs twitched and trembled even now, digits coaxing him in for more, to which he gleefully obliged.

His eagerness was palpable through each flick of his tongue, lost within the oasis between your legs. A myriad of soft whimpers and whines escaped you, hand gingerly tugging on Jace’s hair as he showered your cunt in an alternation of steady licks to lingering ones.

Bathed in pools of silvery moonlight that trickled in from the windows, Jace appeared more ethereal than ever, the muscles flexing within his back. If it were up to him, he would’ve been content to stay here forever, pleasure you over and over again until you shook.

The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit. The continued sensation of your digits carding through his curls made him sigh with elation.

He brought you closer, heart leaping into his throat when you began to writhe beneath him, hips tilting forward into each stroke of his mouth. “You are perfect.” He assured, his resonance little more than a needy whisper, a groan stifled within his throat.

Blossoming beneath his sweet compliments, your fingers curled against his scalp, unable to lay still as Jace resumed his previous ministrations. The warmth of his tongue left you with a blistering want, stomach churning with a wave of arousal.

At last, his tongue found your neglected pearl, tracing around your clit with a gentleness. Jacaerys’s tender expression also bore a great deal of concentration, dark eyes flickering toward you. “There?” He uttered, hoping that you would guide him to where he needed to be.

Your head fervently bobbed up and down, wanting him to stay rooted there. “Yes,” You whimpered, nearly shaking when his lips gingerly pursed around your clit, suckling upon the clutch of nerves until your body became tense. “R—Right there, Jacaerys, please!”

Everything felt feverishly hot, as if you would be turned to ash where you laid, bones trembling with desire. His hands kneaded into the swell of your hips, digits drawing soft patterns into your flesh, drawing you closer into his smoldering embrace.

Jacaerys was attentive and loving, following your breathy plea as he pursed his lips around the pearl of your cunt again, alternating between that and greedy, excitable laps of his tongue. Even he allowed himself to be lost within bliss and pleasure, arousal mounting from pleasuring you.

He shivered at the noises you made, sounds that took residence within the recesses of his mind, made for sweet torment. You weren’t shy about your own delight, moaning again, interwoven with breathy sighs and chants of his name until it was the only word you knew.

You reached for his hand, fingers interlocking atop the swell of your hip as he continued to lap at your aching core. He squeezed your hand as a sign of reassurance, buried deep within your sweet cunt, something that he hungered for.

Your back arched off of the blankets, hand pushing through Jacaerys’s disheveled curls, finding their anchor against his scalp. He groaned whenever you tugged upon his tresses, only serving to coax him further into your cunt.

Arousal rushed through you, molten heat oozing from between your thighs, a nectar as sweet as honey. “I—I’m close,” You whined, beginning to lose yourself to the throes of pleasure. “Jacaerys, please!” A throaty moan tore past your mouth, hips jolting forward.

Gods, he ruined you — made a mess of you in the best way possible, tearing down all bonds of propriety. Knowing that he was to be your husband, that you and him were twined together as one — it only sweetened your mounting release.

Writhing beneath him, you squeezed his hand, stomach sloshing with liquid heat, a heat that continued to devour you, making you feel unbelievably hot. You melted within Jace’s hands, reduced to nothing more than a moaning, whimpering mess.

With another barrage of his tongue assaulting your cunt, you whimpered, turning malleable, body trembling with your encroaching release. He knew that you were on the verge, and so he pursed his lips around your clit once more, and that was more than enough.

His name emerged from your lips like a reverent prayer, the only name that you knew in that moment. Your release was hot, like a rush of fire that refused to simmer, unable to be quelled. The residual sensation lingered, and Jace helped you through it.

Your thighs twitched, absentmindedly attempting to clench together, but Jace held you apart, soothing you with kisses along your thighs. The blissful, contented expression that soon followed was a beautiful one — Jace was shocked to know that he could do that to you, bring you to ruin.

It was a white-hot release, one that set your body ablaze, made the tight coil within your stomach unfurl. Your breathing was labored, still wrought with excitement as you steadily climbed down from your pinnacle, grip beginning to loosen upon Jacaerys’s tresses.

“I will never tire of that,” Jace confessed, his voice sweet against the inside of your thigh. Your slick glistened upon his chin, yet any remnants that remained, he quickly lapped up. He needed a moment to recuperate, crawling forward to rest his head against your chest. “The Gods have made you incomparable.”

Preening beneath his delicate praise and soft spoken compliments, you brought your fingers to his hair, gently raking through, correcting the dishevel you’d caused. You kissed his forehead, palm stroking along his broad, freckled shoulder.

Your lips twitched into an amiable smile, and he happened to crane his neck, peering at you with those warm, earthen-colored hues. “My heart calls your name,” You whispered, noticing the way his lips parted, a subtle exhale escaping him. His hands held you close, bodies flush against one another. “I am yours.”

Jacaerys could not wait for each day to be like this — no longer separated by duty or strife. You would be his wife, and he would be your husband, no room to be left to your own devices. The gods fashioned you both for love — and it would be as beautiful as it would be perilous.

“Calling you my wife certainly has an appeal,” Jace mused, crawling forward again until he was fully on top of you, propped up by his elbows, both of which had sunk into the pillow beside your head. “My heart belongs to you, now and forever.” He murmured.

It was difficult not to smile, bright and pearlescent, thighs still shaking in the aftermath of your release. He had made everything so perfect — steadfast by your side, supporting you in all endeavors, just as you would with him. He was your Prince, the future King of the Seven Kingdoms. You would follow him anywhere.

Part of him had always struggled with identity — who he was, who he was supposed to be. It was still a point of contention and deeply-rooted insecurities, but they all seemed to diminish in your presence.

You loved Jacaerys for his heart — blood never mattered.

He moved to kiss you, soft and lingering, allowing you to taste yourself upon his tongue. Jacaerys found his sanctuary between your legs, one hand moving to tug at the leather ties of his breeches. He had no desire to move quickly, delighted to be as slow as he could.

There would be time for haste, but this wasn’t one of those times. Instead, he cupped your face, kissing you again and again, seeking to feel your mouth and commit it to memory, memorizing every delicate feature you possessed.

“I want to be your wife,” Now, if you could. Part of you wanted to drag yourself from your bed and dress, Jacaerys in-tow, and find a septon — be wed and declare yourselves for all to see. “I would wish it into existence this very second, if I could.”

Jacaerys pressed a kiss against your brow, his countenance one of tenderness as he shook his head. “You already are,” He insisted, gazing down at you with such mesmerizing ardor, stars within his eyes. “A septon does not have to say the words for it to be true.”

You couldn’t have loved him more if you tried.

A soft giggle escaped you as you sought his lips for another kiss, even if it happened to be brief, shorter than the last. “Gods, I love you.” You beamed, and Jacaerys smiled too, pressing his forehead against yours. You had taken enough time to recuperate, and he was far from finished.

Desire took hold, and before you could manage to speak, your lips were on his. Jacaerys groaned — a low, pretty sound that made your stomach swirl with heat. You watched in silent rapture as he removed the last of his garments, breeches and smallclothes gone until he was all that remained.

Through the moonlit haze of your chambers, you fell in love with him again — each glance felt like the very first, heart stirring with a raging ardor. There was no one else like him, and there was no one else for you.

Your hands reached for him, loosely looping around the back of his neck, fingertips dancing across the valley between his shoulders. Jacaerys pressed closer, gaze half-lidded and heavy with desire and love, above all. His lips graced your forehead, breathing becoming a touch heavier.

The swell of his cock nestled against your stomach, hardened again, growing with mounting arousal as he kissed you again. You were swift to reciprocate, mouth desperately seeking him as he repositioned himself, hips adjusting to align himself with your entrance.

“Are you comfortable?” Jacaerys inquired, voice a gentle hum through the onslaught of kisses. He watched as you nodded, signaling for him to continue — he did without hesitation, cock pushing past your folds as gently inched forward.

It was a mutual blossoming of elation, with your breath hitching within your throat, a moan escaping from your lips as it tangled with Jace’s breathy groan. Your digits grasped at the nape of his neck, back arching slightly as he pushed into you, inch by agonizing inch.

It was perfection, the way the both of you melded together, two pieces of a puzzle, connected and joined. His cock filled you with such gentleness — Jacaerys never dared touch you with a rough hand. Instead, he found himself slipping into a familiar rhythm, that of lovemaking, hand finding the swell of your haunch.

He gripped you there, other palm splayed out beside your head, lips parted and visage flushed with ecstasy as he sluggishly rocked in and out of you. His countenance flourished with delight, curls framing his cheekbones, brown eyes finding yours.

The tension of his gaze bored right into you, and you happened to lock eyes, a gasp stirring within your throat when he bottomed out inside of you. “Jace,” A needy whimper escaped you as he began to find his pace, adopting a passionate constancy. “Don’t stop.” You sighed, and it only served to spur him on.

The sensation of your cunt clenching around his cock made him groan, belly filled with a fire that demanded to be extinguished. It was divine, something that he savored — and time moved slowly in your presence. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Despite the tame nature of his pace, it was wrought with passion, ensuring that he hit that spot inside of you, over and over again. His wanton groans seemed to caress along the shell of your ear, filling you with a desire that swallowed you whole.

He was lost within you, drowning himself in your beauty, in your radiance — everything he had, he would give to you. Jacaerys surrendered it all — his heart, body, soul, anything you wanted, he belonged to you.

His mouth moved to pepper kisses all along your face, moving towards your neck. It was growing hot, unbearably so, reaching a fever pitch as he deepened each thrust of his hips, cock throbbing inside of you. Jace was becoming desperate, movements somewhat erratic as he fisted the sheets.

Some sliver of him desired to see you with his heir — a child of Old Valyria, a babe to sit the Throne after he passed, and you with him. It wasn’t something he was accustomed to, feeling this way, yet it fueled him with such desire, like the swell of a tidal wave coming to crash against him.

Jacaerys groaned into the hollow of your throat, savoring the sensation of your fingers digging into the curls at the nape of his neck. Your back arched slightly, legs shifting further apart to give way to his thrusts, lulled into submission by the steady repetition of his cock sliding in and out of you.

You rolled forward, creating a delicious friction that brought the both of you to heel, causing Jace to grit his teeth together. He showered your body with kisses, wherever he could reach, continuing to rock into you with a smoldering passion.

The volume of your lovemaking only intensified, between the breathy groans and blissful whines, the squelching of your cunt, the gentle glide of flesh against flesh. It was a cacophony of desire that only made you shiver, hand reaching for his shoulder, fingers brushing across the smattering of freckles there.

It was breathtaking to see you this way, countenance contorted into a look of sheer ecstasy, eyes closed, mouth slack — you were exemplary. Jacaerys could find no flaws with you, awestruck by your beauty in the moment, and he pushed forward once more.

He was disarmingly gentle with each and every thrust of his cock, burying himself within your cunt with such tenderness. Even if he wanted to be rough, the mere idea of it was too off-putting and strange, as if it disgusted him to no end. He enjoyed this, the revelation within each snap of hips, the enthralling charm of your physique.

“Jacaerys,” You panted, leg lifting into his hand as you moaned, face nearly nestled against his own. “Jace, I — Gods, I’m close!” Reduced to a whimpering mess within the hands of your capable husband, you felt him groan with you, cock throbbing violently inside of you.

A sharp exhale left him as he continued his steady pace, never allowing himself to grow erratic or sluggish. He stayed the course, pressing a kiss along the delicate curve of your jaw, hand kneading into your thigh. It was perfect — you were perfect.

That tight coil within his stomach began to wither, unfurling with ecstasy as he joined you in your peak, shuddering when he felt himself release. It was sudden again, seed filling your womb as he neglected to remove himself, chest heaving with breathy pants.

You followed suit, tugging at his curls, hand clamping into his shoulder as you reached your peak. It was all white-hot and blistering, like the lick of an open flame dragging all along your body.

It was akin to soaring high above the clouds, even if the moment was fleeting and brief. You composed yourself through the heaving of your chest, cunt slick and oozing with your arousal as Jacaerys remained still. He pressed his forehead to yours, mouth slowly curling into a warm smile.

Pressing a kiss against your temples, Jacaerys shifted, hips recoiling as he pulled himself from you. A sticky mess of his seed and your slick coated your cunt, causing you to press your thighs together. “Are you alright?” He murmured, swift to ensure your wellbeing.

“Wonderful,” You hummed, dimples forming at either corner of your mouth as you smiled. “I am perfect.” There was a feeling of complete and utter bliss in the aftermath, knowing that you would be wed, that he was by your side for all eternity.

“Good,” Jacaerys hummed, kissing your brow as he moved to lay beside you, pulling you into his arms. “I could draw us a bath.” He proposed, catching your attention as you nodded.

“That would be suitable, I think. I am something of a mess.” You confessed, warmth crawling along your spine as Jace held your hip, digits dancing all along your plush physique. He enjoyed everything about you, every detail, every curve and blemish — it all belonged to him.

“That would make two of us,” Jace mused, sluggishly moving from your warmth to make for the washroom. Handmaidens had filled the basin with water before you arrived, the water lukewarm, having lost its steam and heat. “Seems there isn’t a need for it.” He remarked.

You joined him, fingers reaching for your robe as you draped it over the plush chair sitting beside your vanity. Dipping two fingers into the water, you seemed unimpressed with the temperature, but it was better to be clean instead. “I suppose we do not have a choice.”

As you stepped inside, you shivered, disgruntled by the water, now somewhat cold and devoid of warmth. You sank down into the basin, with Jacaerys following suit as he sat behind you, chest pressed snugly against your back, arms looping around you.

“I’ll keep you warm, my Lady.” He hummed, eliciting a giggle from you as you happened to recline against him, head craning to press a kiss against his jaw. Jacaerys could not imagine a moment sweeter than this, basking in your presence in a blissful aftermath, holding you close against him.

With an amiable smile, you moved into his embrace, hands stroking along his taut forearm, cheek buried against his shoulder as he held you. You felt his lips grace the hollow between your neck and shoulder, mouth blazing as hot as dragon’s fire, a token of his ardor for you — his love was unwavering.

And you were warm.

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not steal or claim my work as your own. please do not copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Eyes on Me

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Luke being a whiny possessive baby, but actually this is all silly fluff and he's just a silly boy who wants all your attention.

Summary: Your relationship with Luke is as serious as it gets and your relationship with his family is as close as they come. Luke can't help but love it, even as he jealously wants all your attention especially whenever his brothers seem to hog it

Notes: Request for @toasttt11, I hope you enjoy it, I went a slightly different route with it but I hope its okay! 🥰

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You never had a particularly close family. Your family was small, and while you loved them, your family was one of those more aloof types, not so emotional or as close as typical families. The type of family you worried about telling things to in case they made fun of you or told you off or simply didn't listen. A family where they gave presents that were relatively generic because they didn't really know each other. A family where cousins didn't regularly see each other. Luke's family was the complete opposite. Warm, welcoming and large, even his extended family of cousins and aunts and uncles were close. It was a whole different world, but it showed you what family could really look like and what it could feel like.

At first it had been intimidating. To come into this family unit where everyone was so close, where everyone talked and shared their thoughts and feelings without fear of judgement. Where gifts were thoughtful and meaningful and everyone knew what everyone had been up to lately and no one forgot a birthday. At first you'd been scared you simply wouldn't fit in, that you'd make mistakes, forget to do something, offend someone.

Luke had been insistent that you'd fit in perfectly and he'd been absolutely right. His parents loved you, Jim and Ellen immediately treating you like a daughter. Ellen was more excited to see you than her own sons at holidays, always rushing to be the first person to wrap you in a warm hug and bring you inside. Ellen regularly talked to you over the phone and sent you whatsapps to see how you were doing. Jim always had a word of wisdom or a reassuring wink on hand if the boys were getting rowdy and out of pocket. Then there was Jack and Quinn, Jack and Quinn who were the epitome of what brothers should be. They were the first to step in and help you if Luke wasn't around, the first to make fun of you light heartedly for something silly you'd done and the first to add you to your very own group chat with the brothers, Luke not invited, because often you used it to discuss what to buy the impossible to buy for boy. They made you feel settled in the family unit, they felt like real brothers to you, as much a part of your life as Luke was.

Luke was happy about it, of course he was. You were it for him, he was 99.9% certain he was going to marry you, the 0.1% being the off chance that you decided you didn't want to marry him. So naturally seeing you fall in so perfectly with his family, seeing you grow more and more comfortable, the closeness of your relationship with all of them it made him ache with warmth and affection. But, he hated sharing you. He couldn't help it. He'd always shared things with his brothers, clothes, jerseys, toys. Not because he had to, but because that's just what they did. But, you were the first thing in his life that he didn't want to share.

Even now, watching from the doorway of the lake house kitchen as you laugh with Jack and Quinn, there's a sense of jealousy that your attention isn't on him. It's stupid. He doesn't have any worries about you not loving him or preferring his brothers, but he can't help but want your attention on him, can't help but want you to smile and laugh at him, for his brothers to be background noise. It's cave-manish and stupid and he'd never admit to it because Jack and Quinn would make fun of him for the rest of his entire existence...but it's there.

"You're ridiculous, Jack. If you were a worm, Luke would not keep you in a terrarium. He'd throw you out a window, while screaming!" You laugh at Jack, shoving his shoulder as he glares you. He's been adamant for the past 3 minutes that his brother would care for him in sickness and in worm and while sweet, you both know that Luke hates insects, he absolutely hates anything wriggly and crawly, a worm is no exception. Even if that worm was his brother.

"No, no, see my brother loves me and he would keep me in a little terrarium until the day I or he dies and you would have to watch as he gave me all his attention!"

"I'd throw you out the window. Let some bird eat you." You smile as you say it, the bite not there. You both know you wouldn't but the offended gasp Jack lets out is enough to make it appealing to say.

"You wouldn't." Jack's blue eyes narrow on you and you stifle your laugh, arms crossing as you glance at Quinn who's shaking his head at the both of you refusing to get involved.

"You're right, I'd hand feed you to a bird."

"Quinn?!" Jack looks to his older brother, eyes wide like he expects him to intervene and put you on the naughty step or something equally as comical. Instead Quinn simply holds his hands up in surrender.

"I'm not getting involved. This is a ridiculous argument because we all know I'd be the one who'd end up taking care of you."

"Quinn has a point-" You stop yourself short as you feel strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you back against a warm chest. Luke's chin coming to rest on top of your head as he crushes you against him, his fingers slipping under your hoodie to rest on your waist.

"What you talking about?" It's mumbled into your hair, a quick kiss pressed there. He knows he's glowering at Jack and Quinn, mostly Jack. Jack who's gotten that teasing glint in his eyes at the realisation that Luke's scowl is because his girlfriend is focused on his brother, his stupid, pretty boy brother that all the girls seem to want. You are oblivious to this, leaning back into Luke like its second nature.

"How you would throw Jack to the birds if he turned into a worm."

"Mmm, true." His voice is short, shorter than normal and it makes your ears perk up as does the way he pulls you even tighter against him and a little bit further from his brothers like he's trying to pull you away. You wonder if maybe something had happened that's put him in a grumpy mood even as you look between Quinn and Jack who both seem to smirk at their brother standing behind you.

"Lukey, I'm your brother!" Even as Jack pretends to be offended he's grinning. His little brother is practically glaring at him, eyes just visible above your hair where he's burrowed his face.

"And?"

"Luke!" You turn in his arms, forcing him to look at you and for the first time you see the glower on his face, the sort of look you've seen only a handful of times. The same look you've seen him direct at men in bars who bother you, except this look is very much directed at Jack.

"What? I hate worms!"

"Mm, okay, what if I turned into a worm?" You pout up at him, wide eyes focused on him and he can't help but lose a bit of the glower because your attention is on him now and not on Jack.

Luke's hands find their way to your back pockets, pulling you close against him even as his brothers groan at the unnecessary PDA between their baby brother and his girlfriend.

"I'd keep you in my pocket wherever I went until I could find some scientist to turn you back." He smiles down at you sweetly, all traces of the former scowl removed now that his attention is on you and you brush some of his curls from his face as he does so. His smile only grows warmer at your attention, a sense of puffed up pride that he's got all your attention now, and his brothers have none of it.

From behind you you hear Jack whine, "Why am I thrown to the birds but sunshine over here is kept in your pocket?"

"She's my future wife?" You can't help the bashful sort of smile that overtakes your face and forces it to scrunch up and grow warm at his words. You hide your face in his chest, giddy at him calling you his future wife even when you're not even engaged and unlikely to be engaged any time soon given where you both are in life.

"Oh and I'm just chopped liver?" Jack doesn't even get a response, Luke's too busy staring at you, smiling down at you with lovesick little grin he gets. His hands are still in your back pockets and yours have migrated to hold him around the waist as you look up at him, chin leaning against his sternum.

"Talk to your boyfriend." You look over your shoulder at Jack, who's scowling at his brother like he's been betrayed. You suppose in a sense he has, seeing as Luke has decided you're more worthy of pocket worm privileges than his older brother is.

"Lukey, baby, you can't throw your brother to the birds."

"Why not?"

"Because he's your brother." He's pouting at you like a five year old and it really shouldn't be cute, it should be so annoying that he's acting like this but its not. It's cute, it's playful and you can't help but find everything Luke does endearing.

"But, he's taking all your attention away from me..." His voice is whiny, drawn out and annoyed as he frowns down at you, his hands pulling you even tighter to him like Jack might physically pull you away.

"Is that what this all about? Are you jealous of your brother?" You can hear Quinn and Jack sniggering at the background, you know they'll never let him live this down not until the day he dies.

"No..." Luke looks away from you, a bright red flush crawling up his neck, to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He can hear his brothers making fun of him, but he can't help it. He wants your attention all the time and he hates that Jack had it, even as much as he loves that Jack and you get along.

"Baby, Oh, baby...you know I only want you, right?" You cup his cheeks in your hands, tilting your head right back to look at him. He flushes further, cheeks so warm under your palms that you're a little worried he might grow lightheaded. Made only worse by your sweet voice and softness with him, "Jack's nowhere near as pretty as you."

You giggle at the offended, "Hey!" behind you. But, you know Luke needs to hear it, know he compares himself to his brothers even if he tries not too. He knows Jack has a reputation as the fan favourite with women, the pretty boy, but, God, Luke is so pretty to you.

"Really?" His grin that begins is the one you love most, where his teeth peek out and his cheeks dimple deeply. It crinkles his eyes and for anyone looking from the outside in it is so obvious he is absolutely in love with you, smitten, whipped, completely taken with you. If you were in an episode of Tom and Jerry his eyes would be hearts popping from his head.

"Mmm, no one is prettier than my future husband, honey." You're pandering to him and he knows that, he doesn't care though. Revels in it when you lean up on tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, grins at Jack over your head like Jack even cares because Jack most certainly does not care that his brother's girlfriend doesn't find him that pretty. In fact, he's glad. How awkward with family dinners be if you did think Jack was prettier?

But, Jack draws the line at the PDA you're starting to display. He draws the line when Luke crashes his lips down on yours in what can only be described as an 'eating faces' sort of kiss, the sort where you're a little worried for each participants health and ability to breathe.

"Eww, c'mon Quinn, lets get out here. Ew." Jack grabs Quinn by the arm and pull him outside, but you're not really focusing on that, not when Luke is ushering you to a kitchen counter and up so that you can wrap your legs around his hips and kiss him easier.

Yeah, he's jealous sometimes that his brothers get along so well with you, but he knows that you're it for him and he's it for you. He doesn't mind feeling a little jealous, not when you remind him so thoroughly that you could care less about Jack or Quinn in anyway that isn't entirely brotherly.

[makeitmakesomesense]

A Second Listen

Natasha Romanoff x SuperShy!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Day 4: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely friend with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 4th of January, which is 'January'.

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Natasha didn’t look at you twice when you were introduced to the team.

It was one of the most embarrassing moments of your life but it was always going to be. Standing in front of a group of intimidating strangers was your worst nightmare.

You didn’t even have to speak. Agent Hill walked you into a boardroom and all you had to do was stand there and wave. 

Instead, you could barely glance up from the carpeted floor.

They’d been told, you could tell. They’d been told that you were very shy. Everyone looking back at you gave you a polite smile. 

No one seemed to expect anything more from you. 

You wished that they could expect more. That you could be someone more confident. You moved to sit in the nearest seat. 

It was January, the start of a new year. It was the perfect time to become someone new. You didn’t have much hope.

.

‘What’s that noise?’ Natasha asked suddenly. You flushed, trying to be subtle as you turned down the volume on your headphones.

Steve’s head turned obediently as he surveyed the room. 

‘I don’t hear anything.’ 

You pretended to focus on the laptop in front of you, wishing you could sink into the sofa cushions.

‘Y/N?’ Steve called, and your heart sank. ‘Did you hear anything?’ 

You opened your mouth feeling put on the spot. Nerves bubbled up horribly.

Natasha interrupted. 

‘Don’t worry Steve, I must have imagined it.’ 

Her gaze met yours knowingly and you could tell that she had guessed that you were the source of the sound. She gave you an encouraging smile before returning to her plate of pasta. 

You still felt mortified. Your cheeks burned as you turned the song off all together.

.

Natasha could hear a thumping noise. Erratic and varying in volume. It definitely wasn’t music. It didn’t sound dangerous, just strange. 

She followed the noise instinctively, moving along the hallways of the Compound as the strange rhythm continued. 

She stopped in front of your room. You’d left the door wide open. You had your headphones on. Chunky purple ones that made Natasha smile every time she saw you wearing them. Now she was closer, she could hear a small tinny noise that must be the music playing inside them.

That wasn’t the sound that had brought her here.

Natasha watched as you bounced mindlessly from your bed to the ground, twirling and skipping from one end of the room to the other. Your arms moved dramatically in the near silence. Your eyes were scrunched closed and you were mouthing along to your own silent disco. 

Natasha leaned against the doorway with her arms folded. Her head tilted as she watched.

You turned at last towards the doorway, opening your eyes as you mimed the final part of the song. You froze in place. Your eyes widened with panic. You whipped the headphones from your ears, letting them hang around your neck. 

Natasha could hear the music louder now but she still couldn’t figure out the song. 

When you met her eyes, clearly mortified. Natasha gave you a gentle smirk.

‘I loved the performance.’ She promised you. 

You couldn’t think what to say. You never could, not in front of her. 

You covered your face briefly instead, indicating your embarrassment. 

Natasha took a few steps forward, she touched your shoulder and you felt yourself go still with anticipation. 

‘If I leave now.’ She assured, eyes still sparkling with a warmth meant for you. ‘Will you promise not to stop?’

You nodded obediently, wondering if she could hear the sound of your favourite song ending and starting again from around your neck. 

Natasha looked pleased. She gave you a thumbs up just before she left the room. Embarrassingly, mortifyingly, you copied the action. Her small laugh matched her soft smile. 

You waited ten seconds and silently hurried to shut the door. 

Then, you slipped your headphones back on, pressed your forehead against the wood and smiled harder than ever before.

.

The team was celebrating. It was only surviving the scariest missions that earned a group dinner out at a restaurant. Natasha had explained the tradition to you on the quinjet flight back to the Compound.

This time it had been Natasha’s choice. She’d picked a Pho place that the others were excited by. You followed along with your usual quietness, happy just to be included. 

The song was playing. Your song was playing. 

You tried not to smile automatically, instead you kept your head down as you focused on your noodles.

‘Oh god. Is this even music?’ Natasha commented dryly. The group laughed.

You tried not to flinch as a strange hope inside you started to deflate. 

‘Who knows? I never understand modern music.’ Steve added half jokingly. 

You watched Tony roll his eyes. 

‘This isn’t modern music’ He corrected. ‘It’s just modern noise.’

Embarrassingly, you felt your eyes well up with tears. You’d been trying to be braver, more yourself around the others. You felt stupid. You were suddenly grateful that you’d always played your music with headphones. 

You kept your head down, letting the conversation around you move onto other things. 

When you finally had the courage to glance up, Natasha was already looking at you. Her eyes were full of silent apology. 

You dropped your stare back down to your empty plate, filled with miserable embarrassment.

.

Natasha was moving back and forth in the kitchen. This was not her usual style. Her hand rubbed her neck absentmindedly. This wasn’t her style either. 

You paused unsurely and worried if she was okay. 

Typically, you only came into the common areas when you had your headphones on. It had been an easy way to reassure yourself. No one expected you to talk with them on. But, after the meal yesterday, you couldn’t find the courage to put them on. It would be too embarrassing if someone heard the music you liked to play. 

You took a step into the kitchen, hoping to get away with a polite smile and your container from the fridge with leftovers in it. 

Natasha turned immediately as you approached. You froze in place automatically. She smiled brightly at you, nervous but excited. You didn’t know what to do. You waited for her to speak, to give you some kind of direction. 

Natasha’s head tilted and for a moment you could see her thinking. Carefully, with an assessing stare, she tucked her hair behind her ears.

The wireless earpods revealed themselves.

For a moment, you were too distracted by the glittering ear piercings that surrounded them. Natasha noticed your attention and her hand absentmindedly rubbed her neck again. You realised that the gesture was her way of being shy. 

You gave her a small smile and Natasha beamed.

She tilted her head again as she took out one of the earpods. Slowly, she offered it to you on her palm. You picked it up, understanding the silent cue. You held it to your ear and heard your favourite song playing loudly. Your small laugh was automatic. Natasha grinned victoriously. You offered her the earpod back and she took it. 

Then, Natasha nodded her head towards the door. You understood her cue again, following her as she led you out of the main Compound building and into the garage. You watched silently as she unlocked a car that must be hers. 

You observed the vehicle interestedly. It was jet black, sleek and expensive looking. It was intimidating. You glanced over at Natasha with her shining ear piercings and leather jacket. She gave you a soft smile and your heart raced instinctively. She opened her car door and nodded for you to do the same with yours.

You opened the opposite door and slid obediently into the leather seat. Your fingers tangled and untangled themselves in your lap as nervousness overwhelmed you slightly. After a moment, you looked over to Natasha. 

She cleared her throat.

‘I thought maybe we could go somewhere and get lunch?’  She offered simply. 

You bit your lip. Indecision warred on your face and Natasha looked suddenly deflated. You hesitated before you spoke at last.

‘You don’t have to be nice to me. Just because of yesterday. I’m not upset with you.’ 

You tried to smile reassuringly. 

Natasha’s mouth twitched as she hid her own secret smile. It was the first time you'd talked to her directly. She hadn’t realised it at first. You’d been so quiet, trying to fade into the background of every moment. 

She hadn’t realised and then she hadn’t been able to see anything else. 

Even your smallest smiles made your eyes sparkle.

‘I really do want to go to lunch with you.’ Natasha answered you simply. ‘If that’s what you want.’

She watched your fingers untangle themselves decisively. 

‘I do.’ You smiled nervously. Your eyes sparkled.

.

As she drove out of the garage, Natasha half-turned to face you again.

‘I did end up really liking that song, you know.’ She said carefully. ‘After yesterday, it got stuck in my head. It’s been playing on a loop in there ever since.’ You watched her tap her forehead. 

She glanced back to you unsurely. You knew she was still hesitant because of yesterday. You braced yourself automatically.

‘It’s really okay.’ You tried to reassure her again, not quite believing her words.

Natasha’s brow furrowed quickly and she looked like she was thinking hard. She chewed her lower lip and then she looked down to the music system installed in her car. 

Her fingers moved suddenly as she pressed various features on the touchscreen. Your stomach squeezed uncomfortably. You didn’t want her to play it now, just to try and prove a point.

A different song began to play. 

Your mouth twisted in automatic distaste at the sound. 

Natasha laughed. 

‘This is my favourite song.’ She told you, clearly pleased by your expression. You covered your face embarrassedly for a moment and Natasha laughed again.

‘You have to give it a chance.’ She said, her voice deepening slightly as her tone walked the line of playful and serious. ‘Some things get better the more time you give them.’

Your breath hitched and you nodded. Natasha turned to focus properly on the road ahead. You watched her mouth along to the lyrics. 

She was right. By the time the song was nearly over, you were starting to like it. 

You watched Natasha’s fingers move back to the touch screen, ready to switch the music to something else. 

Without thinking, you touched her hand with your own. 

Natasha froze at your touch. 

‘Can I hear it again?’ You asked shyly. 

Natasha beamed. 

.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[zoofzoofxx]

—The art of eyecontact—

Pairings ; Axel Kovacevic x fem!reader

Summary ; Upon arriving in Barcelona with your group, Miyagi-Do, to participate in the prestigious Sekai Takai tournament, you encounter a tall and formidable opponent. Your initial meeting is less than ideal, leaving both of you with a poor first impression of each other. However, everything changes when you uncover a surprising secret about him. This discovery shifts your perspective entirely, prompting you to confront him. What begins as a tense interaction unexpectedly evolves into a deeper understanding, and the two of you gradually grow closer in ways neither of you anticipated.

Trigger warning ; Physical abuse, violence, emotional abuse.

Pt. 1

୨୧・・・・♡・・・・୨୧

After arriving at the hotel, exhausted and looking as though I haven’t slept in weeks, I pick up the key to my room, which I’m sharing with Sam. I give her a quick nod to let her know I’ll head up to the room, and she simply nods back, already engrossed in a conversation with her boyfriend, Miguel.

With my suitcase in one hand and my bag in the other, I put my AirPods back in and turn on my music before stepping into the elevator. The ride is quiet, and I find myself zoning out until the familiar ding signals that I’ve reached my floor.

Pulling the handle of my suitcase, I step out of the elevator, scrolling through my phone without bothering to look up. Before I know it, I collide with someone and fall to the ground, one of my AirPods tumbling out in the process. Startled, I look up, ready to apologize for not paying attention—but before I can say a word, he beats me to it.

‘Watch where you’re going,’ he says, rolling his eyes in obvious annoyance

‘I’m sorry,’ I say quickly, standing up and grabbing my fallen AirPod.

He sighed, his gaze feeling as though it pierced directly into my soul. He appeared cold and tense. ‘Just don’t let it happen again,’ he said, not giving me a chance to respond before walking away.

I exhaled slowly, gathering my belongings and glancing at my hotel card to find my room number. As I looked around, I realized I had ended up right in front of my hotel room. With a soft sigh, I stepped inside, taking a moment to settle myself. I reminded myself that I still had two hours to prepare before we needed to leave for the city tour. The quiet of the room allowed me to relax for a brief moment, and I moved calmly to unpack and get ready, focusing on the next part of the day without letting the earlier encounter distract me.

—

As I stood in the bathroom, the cold water from the shower running over me, I couldn’t help but think about the guy from earlier. He was likely my opponent. He was tall, with striking blue eyes and brown hair. There was something about him—he seemed unbothered, almost arrogant, yet calm and tense all at once. The mix of qualities made him difficult to read.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I heard a knock on the door. It was probably Sam, letting me know she had arrived back at the hotel as well. I turned off the shower, quickly blow-drying my hair before slipping into a simple white long-sleeve shirt and grey Nike sweatpants.

Walking out of the bathroom, I grabbed my makeup kit and sat down, ready to get prepared for the evening. The calm of the moment allowed me to focus, shifting my attention away from the earlier encounter and onto the night ahead.

—

‘Team events will begin tomorrow,’ Sam remarked as she adjusted her outfit in the mirror. I sat quietly, scrolling through my phone, waiting for her to finish and let me know when she was ready to head out. After a few moments, she signaled that she was all set, and we made our way to the lobby to continue with our plans for the evening.

‘So… are you feeling a bit stressed?’ Sam asked, her tone casual as she glanced at me. ‘With the fact that Tory is now in Cobra Kai and you’re the captain?’

Tory had left right when she was about to win against Samantha, which led to me having to compete against Sam for the captain’s position. In the end, I came out on top.

‘No, I’m just worried about Tory, that’s all,’ I replied, stepping out of the elevator. As soon as I did, I felt a pair of eyes boring into me. It was the guy from earlier—the one I had bumped into. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I quickly looked away, feeling a sudden wave of discomfort wash over me.

I turned to Sam and told her about the encounter, and she glanced at him quickly before nudging me with her elbow, a playful smirk crossing her face.

‘Ow,’I exclaimed, flinching from the sudden nudge, and Sam responded by wiggling her eyebrows mischievously.

I raised an eyebrow, giving her a look that silently reminded her she had a boyfriend. Sam simply raised her hands in mock surrender, grinning, and then walked off toward the bathroom. I waited outside, shaking my head.

—

The photographer announced that he wanted a group photo with just the captains. I stood next to Robby, both of us smiling for the camera. The photographer then said something about the guy in the back, urging him to smile as well. I glanced over, and there he was—smiling at the camera before his gaze shifted to meet mine. A sigh escaped me as I quickly looked away, a familiar nervous feeling creeping up once again.

—

The next day, I felt the weight of stress settling on my shoulders—today was the first day of the tournament, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Wanting to shake off my nerves, I left the hotel early to give myself a chance to warm up. As I made my way toward the locker rooms to drop off my things, a voice suddenly interrupted my thoughts. I turned, and there he was—the mysterious guy from yesterday.

He was training with his sensei, who was urging him to move faster. The guy struggled to keep up, failing repeatedly, much to his sensei’s frustration. Unexpectedly, the sensei struck him multiple times, demanding he try again. The guy made another attempt, but once more, he failed and took a few more hits. As he turned to face me, our eyes locked for a brief moment.

I quickly looked away, eager to leave without drawing attention. I hurried into the locker rooms, hoping he hadn’t noticed me. The encounter left me unsettled, and I stood there in silence, trying to process what had just happened. I didn’t know how to feel about the situation.

—

The first competition ended in a swift, crushing loss. As I left the court, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on me. I kept replaying the match in my mind, second-guessing every decision and wondering if I had let my team down. It felt like the entire tournament might slip away because of me. Despite my best efforts to stay calm, the guilt and stress gnawed at me.

I was the first to retreat to the locker room, hoping to find some solace and a bottle of water to clear my head. But as I opened the storage, I saw that all the bottles were empty. I sighed, trying to steady the nervous energy bubbling under the surface. Deciding to head to the canteen, I reminded myself that there were still two hours before the next event. That gave me time to regroup and pull myself together—or so I hoped.

As I entered the canteen, my eyes landed almost immediately on him. He stood near the fridge, tall and poised as ever, with his hair styled perfectly, as if he hadn’t just come from the chaos of competition. My stomach tightened, and my heart began to race, though I desperately willed it to stop. Of all people to see right now, it had to be him. I didn’t want to face him—especially not now, when I felt like a failure. My shoulders tensed as I resolved to stick to my plan: grab a bottle, stay invisible, and leave as quickly as possible.

I moved swiftly to the fridge, avoiding eye contact and keeping my head down. My thoughts were a swirl of self-consciousness and unease. Did he notice me? Was he going to say anything about the match? Every moment I spent near him felt like an eternity, but, to my relief, I managed to grab the water and make it to the line without incident.

As I stood waiting my turn to pay, I tried to focus on anything but the awkwardness still lingering from the match. My hands were fidgety, and I shifted my weight slightly, anxious to get out of there. Then, as if the universe had decided I needed one more challenge, my opponent from the earlier competition lined up behind me. I could feel his presence without even turning around— it was palpable, a stark and unwelcome reminder of the loss I was already struggling to push from my mind.

When it was finally my turn to pay, I reached into my pocket and froze. My wallet wasn’t there. A cold wave of panic swept over me as I realized I’d left it in my bag back in the locker room. Feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment, I quickly turned to the cashier and asked if she could give me a moment to retrieve it. Her response was curt and final: the line was too long, and she couldn’t wait.

Humiliated, I had no choice but to leave the canteen empty-handed. The sting of rejection added another layer to my already fragile mood. I stepped outside into the crisp air, taking slow, deliberate breaths in an effort to calm myself. I stretched, more out of habit than necessity, and tried to regain a sense of control.

Even as the fresh air began to soothe my nerves, the doubt lingered. It felt like everything was spiraling, and I couldn’t help but feel that it was all my fault. Still, I reminded myself that there was time to turn things around. The tournament wasn’t over yet, and I couldn’t let this moment define the rest of the day. Though the insecurity remained, I resolved to keep pushing forward, however shaky my confidence felt.

—

After returning to the locker room, I sat down quietly next to my bag, letting the silence of the space settle around me. As I unzipped the bag, my eyes were drawn to two ice-cold water bottles lying inside, their surfaces glistening faintly. I paused, blinking at them in mild confusion, trying to piece together how I hadn’t noticed them earlier. I looked up, my thoughts momentarily scattered, unsure whether to feel relieved, amused, or simply puzzled by the discovery.

‘Was anyone here?’ I asked Demetri, holding up the bottles of water and glancing at him with a mix of curiosity and confusion. My voice was calm, but my mind raced slightly, trying to make sense of their sudden appearance.

‘Yeah, the girl from Iron Dragons, Zara, I think,’ Demetri explained quickly. ‘She said you needed some water but forgot your wallet, so she brought these for you.’

The Iron Dragons—that was the team the tall guy was from. From what I knew, Zara was their captain. I hadn’t expected her to do something like this, but I couldn’t help feeling a slight wave of gratitude. I decided I would thank her later, once the next competition was over. For now, I just needed to focus on what was ahead.

I grabbed the water bottle, a quiet wave of gratitude passing through me. It was a small gesture, but it made a difference in that moment. Taking a deep breath, I decided to search for my teammates and gather them together. I needed to rally them, give them a motivational speech, even though, deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the loss in the first competition was mostly my fault. Still, I knew I had to set that aside and focus on getting everyone back on track for the next round.

—

It was time for the next event, and the pressure was mounting. There were different categories, but we lost almost all of them. The only victories came from the 2vs1 match, where Miguel secured a win, and the Bojutsu (staff technique/ art of stick fighting), where I managed to come out on top.

The following day brought a small victory—we won once, but it came with its own challenges. Our task was to force the opponent to fall from the podium, and only Miguel managed to win and stay on it. The weight of it all hit harder when I saw our team nearly at the bottom of the standings. The stress was becoming overwhelming; we were running out of time, and the gap between us and the top seemed to grow wider with each passing moment.

The next event was the elimination phase of Sakai Taikai, and as the moment drew closer, an overwhelming sense of anxiety crept back into my mind. I couldn’t shake the thought that I might lose because of my own small mistakes, and it was a nagging feeling that seemed to grow stronger with each passing second.

It was a 2v2 on a high platform, a challenging setup that added to the pressure. The Iron Dragons went first with their demonstration. The tall guy—who I knew to be an exceptional competitor—was flawless. He moved with such grace and precision that he wasn’t even touched once by his opponent. I couldn’t help but watch in awe as he maneuvered effortlessly across the platform, his every movement exuding confidence and skill. Before I could think much more about it, I overheard Demetri and Hawk talking nearby. Their conversation snapped me out of my thoughts as they referred to the tall guy as a “monster” because of his skill. The words hit me differently than I expected—guilt crept in. It didn’t feel right to hear them speak about him behind his back like that, especially when he was right there, demonstrating his abilities so effortlessly. I felt a pang of discomfort, as if they were undermining his talent. I couldn’t let it slide.

‘Don’t call him a monster,’ I exclaimed, my voice firm. ‘You don’t know him or what he deals with.’

They exchanged glances before looking at me, their expressions softening. I could see the apology in their eyes, and for a moment, the tension in the air seemed to ease. They nodded slightly, acknowledging what I had said, and I felt a small sense of relief. It wasn’t right to judge someone so quickly, and I wasn’t going to stand by and let it happen.

They announced that it was our turn. Roby and I were the first to step onto the podium to fight. As I climbed the stairs, the height of the platform hit me all at once, and my knees felt like they might give way, soft as cotton. Despite the flutter of nerves, I focused on doing my best, trying to shake off the unease.

Then, suddenly, our eyes met—the tall guy again. For a brief moment, I froze, distracted by the connection. My opponent saw the opening and almost pushed me off the platform. Just as I was about to lose my footing, Roby took a risk and managed to eliminate two opponents at once. The crowd erupted in cheers, and I heard the rush of feet as the other competitors came charging in, with Sam joining me on the platform.

Time passed, and it all came down to the final two opponents. Now, it was Miguel’s turn to step in and help me finish it. As we worked together to eliminate them, I felt a small surge of pride. I hadn’t fallen once, and that, in itself, was enough to bring a little bit of happiness in the midst of the chaos.

—

Everyone in our group was cheering after the competition. We were relieved and excited that we hadn’t been eliminated and that we still had a chance to continue in Sakai Taikai. But amidst the celebration, Miguel was nowhere to be found.

Just as Robby and I were catching our breath, we were called to the side by our Senseis. Their faces were serious, and I could feel the shift in the air as they delivered the bad news. One of our Senseis, along with Miguel, had to leave immediately. Miguel’s mother had been hospitalized, and there were complications with her pregnancy.

The weight of the situation hit me hard. Not only were we down one Sensei, but we were also losing a teammate. I couldn’t help but feel a deep concern for Miguel’s mother. I hoped she would pull through and that everything would turn out okay. It was hard to focus on anything else when I knew Miguel’s family needed him, and I hoped she’d recover quickly.

—

While everyone else was out partying at some random club in Barcelona, I found myself binge-watching a film series. After a while, I decided I needed a change of pace and thought a walk along the beach might clear my mind. I threw on a white hoodie and some black leggings, grabbed a bottle of water for the walk, and headed out. The evening air was cool, and I was ready for a little solitude by the ocean.

—

I walked for a moment, my thoughts still lingering on the events of the day, until I found myself at the beach. As I looked around, my eyes landed on someone standing nearby, shirtless. I blinked, and as I drew closer, I realized it was the tall guy from earlier.

The brown-haired boy was diligently practicing a series of movements, each one executed with remarkable precision and fluidity. Despite my exhaustion and the haze clouding my thoughts, I couldn’t seem to pull my gaze away. There was something captivating about the way he moved, as though every motion was deliberate and purposeful. My fatigue seemed to fade into the background as I became mesmerized by his focus and technique. It was almost as if everything around me disappeared, and I was entirely absorbed in watching him. I couldn’t help but wonder about the discipline and dedication that went into mastering such skills, but at the same time, I felt too drained to even process the thoughts fully. But then, my attention shifted when I noticed some red marks on his back. They stood out against his skin, drawing my gaze away from his fluid motions, and I couldn’t help but wonder how they had gotten there.

Suddenly, he executed a move that caused him to turn and face me directly. His expression shifted from focus to surprise, and for a moment, he froze, caught off guard by my presence. It was as if the sudden shift in direction had momentarily thrown him off balance, and we stood there in an awkward silence, both taken aback by the unexpected encounter.

‘Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,’ I exclaimed, taking a step closer. As I moved, the cold wind hit me, sending a shiver down my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill, but my attention remained on him, feeling the awkwardness between us linger in the air.

‘Uhm… I’m Y/n, by the way,’ I said, tilting my head to the side, feeling a bit shy and insecure. My voice was soft, unsure of how to break the silence. I couldn’t help but feel a little awkward standing there, hoping my introduction might ease the tension, even though my nerves made it hard to feel at ease.

‘Axel,’ he said, his voice a little stiff as he shifted slightly, looking tense and uncomfortable. I could tell he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation either, and his unease mirrored my own. The air between us felt a little thick, and I found myself wishing I could think of something to say to make it less awkward.

‘That’s a pretty cool kata. What’s it called?’ I asked softly, hoping to break the awkward silence. My voice was tentative, but I genuinely wanted to know. It felt like the right way to ease the tension between us, even if I was still a little unsure of myself.

‘I’m not supposed to talk to the opponents,’ he exclaimed, his tone a bit stubborn. There was a hint of defensiveness in his words, as if he was trying to set a boundary, but it only added to the awkwardness. I could tell he was trying to stick to some kind of rule, and I immediately felt a bit embarrassed for having spoken up.

‘We’re not on the mat,’ I said with a small smile, feeling the blush creep up my nose. I wasn’t sure if it was the cold, the embarrassment, or my own shyness causing the heat to rise in my cheeks, but I tried to brush it off. The awkwardness was still there, but I hoped my attempt at humor might ease the tension just a bit.

‘It’s pretty late for training,’ I exclaimed, sighing as I tried to warm up my hands by rubbing them together. The cold was starting to get to me, and I couldn’t help but feel the discomfort in my fingers. I glanced at Axel, hoping to ease the awkwardness with a casual comment, but the tension still lingered between us.

‘Always time for training,’ he said, his tone firm and matter-of-fact. His words carried a quiet determination, and for a moment, I felt like I was glimpsing a side of him that was completely focused, almost unshakable.

After he said that, he reached down to grab his shirt from the sand. As he moved, the red marks on his back became more visible, standing out sharply against his skin. I couldn’t help but notice them, the vividness of the marks raising questions in my mind.

‘Whoa, whoa… what happened to your back?’ I asked cautiously as he pulled his shirt over his head, my voice filled with concern as I took a few small steps forward. I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I was overstepping, but the marks were too striking to ignore. My curiosity and worry outweighed my hesitation.

‘Uh, from the bo staff competition,’ he answered quickly, his tone dismissive as he avoided meeting my concerned gaze. It was clear he didn’t want to dwell on it, brushing it off as if it were nothing, but the marks told a different story.

‘Nobody’s been able to land a point on you yet,’ I said, my tone light but observant. His reaction was immediate—he shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze even more than before. The tension in his demeanor made me pause, debating whether or not to bring up what I had seen earlier during his training with his sensei. The memory of those moments weighed on my thoughts, but I wasn’t sure if addressing it would make things better or worse.

‘I saw what happened with your sensei,’ I said softly, breaking the silence. My tone was careful, not wanting to sound intrusive, but I felt the need to acknowledge what I had witnessed.

‘My sensei wants me to be the best. It’s because of him I never lose.’ he said coldly, his sharp tone cutting through the air as he looked directly at me. His gaze was steady, but there was an edge to it, as though he was daring me to challenge his words.

‘There are other ways of teaching,’ I said, my voice laced with concern. I couldn’t help but feel worried, sensing that his sensei’s approach might be pushing him too hard. I wanted to say more, but I wasn’t sure if I should press further.

‘I mean, I got to admit, your dojo’s pretty great,’ I exclaimed, offering him a friendly smile. I hoped my words would ease the tension, acknowledging his dedication while keeping the conversation light. Despite my concern, I didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.

‘Thank you,’ Axel said, his tone softer, looking a little more at ease now. ‘You’re pretty… Your… Your dojo’s pretty good too.’ He added quickly, a small blush creeping onto his cheeks, though I suspected it might have been as much from the cold as from his sudden shyness. His words caught me off guard, and I couldn’t help but smile, feeling the tension ease between us.

‘We try,’ I said with a small smile, hoping to reassure him. I could see the tension easing slightly, and I wanted to keep things light. The moment felt less awkward, and I was relieved for it.

‘Mind if I join?’ Axel asked, and the question caught me off guard. I hadn’t expected him to ask, but there was a hint of curiosity in his voice that made me pause for a moment.

‘You want to switch dojo’s?’ I asked, raising my eyebrows in shock. The idea hadn’t crossed my mind, and I was curious about why he’d bring it up. It seemed like a bold move, especially given how dedicated he was to his current dojo.

‘Your walk. I was going back to hotel.’ he said, pointing towards the route I was supposed to take. It took me a moment to process what he meant, but then I realized he was offering to join me on the walk back, which felt unexpected but kind.

‘Oh, yeah,’ I laughed awkwardly, caught off guard by the offer. ‘Yeah, sure,’ I added quickly, hoping to reassure him. As we started walking, I couldn’t help but notice the height difference between us—he towered over me, and I felt a little small in comparison, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just another thing that made the moment feel a little surreal.

As we walked along the beach, the soothing sound of the waves crashing in the background, our conversation turned to travel. We began talking about the countries we had visited, sharing stories of our experiences in different places. The gentle breeze and the calming rhythm of the ocean made the conversation feel easy and natural, and for the first time that night, I felt completely at ease. From what he mentioned, it seemed like he had traveled to every country in Europe. He shared details about different cities and cultures he’d encountered, his experiences coming across as both vast and fascinating. It made me realize just how much he had seen and done, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at his travels. He also asked me a few questions, curious about my thoughts on Barcelona. He wanted to know what I thought of the city, what I hoped to visit, and what I wanted to do while I was here. His questions felt genuine, and I found myself sharing more than I had planned, enjoying the flow of our conversation. It was nice to talk about my plans without feeling rushed or pressured.

We laughed and enjoyed the moment, the conversation flowing easily, until one of our opponents from Tory’s team approached us with a few of his friends. The sudden interruption broke the easy atmosphere, and I could feel a shift in the air as they came closer.

‘How cute!’ Kwon exclaimed, tilting his head in sarcastic awe. His tone was playful yet teasing, as if he was trying to get a reaction from us. It was clear he wasn’t just making a casual comment, but rather trying to stir things up a bit

‘Little rival team play time, huh?’ he said with a grin, his words slurring slightly. It was clear he was definitely not sober, and his carefree smile made the situation feel a bit awkward. His tone was light, but there was an edge to it, as if he was trying to provoke something.

‘Just ignore them,’ I said with a sigh, glancing at Axel. I could feel the tension creeping in, but I didn’t want to let it ruin the moment. I hoped Axel would let it slide too, as it was clear Kwon’s words were meant more to tease than to start a real confrontation. I tried to walk past them, but they shifted right in front of me, giving me a big, smug smile. It was like they were blocking my path on purpose, clearly enjoying the chance to get under my skin.

‘Say the magic words,’ Kwon laughed, raising his eyebrows playfully. His grin widened, clearly enjoying the situation more than he should.

‘Move aside,’ I said, my tone laced with clear annoyance. I wasn’t in the mood for their games, and I made sure they knew it as I stood my ground.

‘Wrong,’ he said sternly, his playful demeanor shifting into something more confrontational. The tone in his voice made it clear he wasn’t going to let me off that easily.

‘Just leave us alone,” I sighed, frustration creeping into my voice. I was done with their teasing and just wanted to move on, hoping they’d finally get the hint. Kwon kneeled to my height and smiled, his expression mocking yet somehow amused. It was as if he thought the whole situation was a game, and I was the one missing the joke.

‘Only if you say please,’ he laughed, getting uncomfortably close, his face now just inches from mine. The mocking tone in his voice made my irritation grow, but I stood my ground, refusing to let him get under my skin.

That was the final straw for Axel. His expression darkened as his fist clenched tightly at his side. One of Kwon’s friends caught the movement and took it as a signal to strike, delivering a swift kick to Axel’s stomach. To my surprise, Axel barely even flinched, standing firm as if the attack hadn’t phased him.

At the same moment, the other friend of Kwon lunged toward me. Axel reacted immediately, dealing with his opponent effortlessly, his precision and speed almost intimidating. Inspired by his confidence, I focused on my attacker, countering their moves and managing to take them down just as effectively. The entire exchange was over in moments, leaving Kwon’s friends clearly outmatched.

Axel and I turned our attention to Kwon, who stood his ground with an overly confident smirk. ‘Come on, I’ll take you both. Let’s go,’ he taunted, his bravado thick in the air. But before he could make a move, one of his friends grabbed his arm and urged him to stop.

‘Let’s get out of here. The cops are coming,’ his friend said, the urgency in his voice cutting through Kwon’s bravado.

Sure enough, the faint wail of police sirens echoed in the distance. Without hesitation, Axel and I exchanged a quick glance and bolted in the opposite direction, heading back toward the beach.

By the time we stopped, both of us were out of breath, the cool ocean breeze offering some relief as we tried to collect ourselves. The tension of the moment slowly gave way to exhaustion, the sounds of the waves a stark contrast to the chaos we’d just escaped.

‘Cobra Kai… those assholes,’ I muttered between breaths, my frustration evident as I leaned forward, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. The adrenaline was still coursing through me, but the tension was beginning to ebb, replaced by a simmering annoyance at what had just unfolded.

‘Nice round kick,’ he said, his tone genuine as his eyes stayed fixed on me. There was a flicker of admiration in his gaze, and it caught me off guard for a moment. I straightened up, still trying to steady my breath, feeling a mix of pride and self-consciousness under his watchful look.

‘Nice counterstrike,’ I said between breaths, managing a small smile.

Axel returned the gesture with a genuine smile of his own, his gaze never wavering from mine. There was something steady and unwavering about the way he looked at me, and it made me feel oddly at ease despite everything that had just happened.

For a moment, the only sounds between us were the crashing waves in the distance and our labored breaths as we worked to steady ourselves. The adrenaline was beginning to fade, leaving behind a strange sense of calm in the cool night air.

I exhaled deeply, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear. My eyes scanned the area cautiously, the sound of the waves in the background grounding me. After another moment, I sighed again and checked once more before turning to Axel.

‘I think the coast is clear,’ I said softly, breaking the silence.

When I looked at him, I realized he was still watching me, his expression unreadable but intent. There was something in his gaze—an almost admiring quality—that made my heart skip for a moment. I quickly glanced away, unsure of how to react to the unexpected attention.

I took a quick glance at Axel, my heart racing when I saw he was still looking at me. Our eyes locked, and something shifted in the air between us. Feeling the pull, I couldn’t look away and decided to meet his gaze.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between us. I had to tilt my head up to meet his eyes, the height difference suddenly feeling more pronounced. He gently cupped my cheek with one hand, his touch warm and reassuring. With the other, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing lightly against my skin. His expression softened, his eyes flickering between mine and my lips.

The closeness was intoxicating, and before I knew it, he began to lean in, his face inches from mine. My breath caught in my throat, and for a split second, I was ready to give in. But then, a sudden rush of doubt and hesitation swept over me.

‘Woah, no, no…’ I stammered, taking a few quick steps back. The air between us suddenly felt thick with tension, and I could feel the familiar rush of awkwardness creeping back, just like it had at the beginning of our conversation.

I avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the ground, unsure of what to do next. The moment that had felt so intense just moments ago now seemed like a mistake. Why had I pulled away? I had no idea, but the uncertainty left me with a knot in my stomach. Axel didn’t say anything right away, and for a second, the silence stretched between us like an unspoken question hanging in the air.

I tried to steady my breathing, hoping the moment would pass quickly, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had just made things even more awkward.

‘I-I’m sorry… I thought-‘ Axel started, his words trailing off as he struggled to find the right thing to say.

He seemed just as uncertain as I was, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and embarrassment. I could see the hesitation in his eyes, and it made me feel even more guilty for pulling away.

I bit my lip, unsure of how to break the silence. The tension hung thick between us, but neither of us seemed to know how to ease it. It felt like everything had shifted in an instant, and now I wasn’t sure how to fix it without making it worse.

‘It’s already after curfew. We should get going,’ His voice was cold, the warmth from earlier now completely gone.

The shift was immediate. The tension between us that had been so palpable moments before evaporated, but not in a way that made me feel better. Instead, it felt like we had just snapped back to some kind of awkward normalcy—where he was distant and aloof again, and I was left fumbling for the right words.

I couldn’t tell if he was still hurt by my reaction or if he was simply shutting himself off, but either way, the walls between us were up once more, and I wasn’t sure how to bring them down.

—

The walk to the hotel was silent—so silent it felt suffocating. Each step felt heavier, the air thick with unspoken words. The usual ease between us was gone, replaced by an awkward distance I couldn’t seem to close.

I stopped abruptly, feeling a knot tighten in my chest. Axel walked a few steps further before halting, turning back to look at me, his expression confused.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice softer than it had been since… well, since everything had changed.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know what I was feeling anymore. But I could tell that whatever had just happened between us—whatever I had done—had shifted something. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it felt like the space between us had grown wider than it had ever been before.

I grabbed my phone and glanced at the clock—it was 5 p.m. In an hour, the sunrise would begin. A sudden urge to be by the ocean took over me, the need for some space, for clarity. I sighed quietly to myself and turned to Axel.

‘I’m going back to the beach,’ I said softly. ‘You can head back to the hotel. Goodnight.’

I gave him a small wave and started walking away, my footsteps steady, but my mind still racing.

But then I heard them—footsteps. I stopped, turned, and looked back. It was Axel, walking a few paces behind me. We locked eyes, and for a moment, everything else faded. His gaze was soft, unreadable, but it felt like there was so much unsaid in the space between us. He didn’t say anything, not a single word, but his presence spoke louder than anything could.

I stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Neither of us moved, but neither of us looked away either. The silence lingered, heavy and familiar.

I smiled softly, then turned back and began walking toward the beach. By the time I arrived, the air was colder than I expected, A crisp chill in the air made me pull my hoodie tighter around me, trying to keep the cold at bay. I sat down, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to find warmth in the stillness of the night.

Without a word, Axel appeared beside me. He gently draped his jacket over my shoulders, the warmth of it wrapping around me, offering more comfort than I realized I needed. I looked up, my breath catching for a second as I met his gaze, but he was already taking a few steps back, distancing himself.

He sat down a bit further away, his eyes fixed on the beach and the waves rolling in under the dark sky. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting a soft glow on everything, but I found my attention drifting back to Axel. I couldn’t help it. His quiet demeanor, the way he observed the world around him—it was like he was in tune with everything. For a moment, I caught myself admiring him, his profile soft in the moonlight, his posture relaxed yet strong.

The silence between us felt comfortable, not awkward. It was as though, in this moment, there was no need for words. We just existed together, the sound of the waves, the chill in the air, and the quiet understanding between us.

The sun was about to rise any minute, and I glanced over at Axel, who looked like he was on the verge of falling asleep. I felt guilty for dragging him out here. Standing up, I walked over to him and handed his jacket back, noticing how cold it was and how he only had a sleeveless shirt on. Without saying anything, I sat next to him, gently placing his head on my shoulder, offering him the warmth I could.

I heard Axel sigh softly, and when I looked over at him, he seemed lost in thought. My gaze drifted to the waves, and just then, the sun began to rise, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. The sight made me straighten my posture, while Axel stretched and yawned, still staring at the horizon in silence. I couldn’t help but smile at the peaceful moment, before standing up and grabbing my phone to capture a photo of the sunrise.

I gently patted Axel’s head, feeling his messy hair beneath my hand. He looked so relaxed, yet on the verge of falling asleep. He looked up at me, and I gave him a soft smile, an unfamiliar flutter starting in my stomach. He slowly stood up, taking a few steps back before raising his phone. I turned to look at him, and to my surprise, he was taking a photo of me with the sunrise behind me. I couldn’t help but smile wider, feeling a faint blush creeping up my nose as I realized how much I enjoyed this moment.

As Axel put his phone down, I walked over to him, unable to resist the urge to give him a big hug. There were no words exchanged, just the sound of silence, the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore, and the warmth of the moment. As we pulled apart, the sunlight hit Axel’s face, casting a golden glow. He squinted slightly from the brightness, but the way the light accentuated his features made him even more captivating.

Without thinking, I reached out, cupping his cheek gently. He looked down at me with a soft, almost questioning gaze, and I couldn’t quite place the feeling swirling in my chest. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the long day, the weight of everything that had happened since the Sekai Taikai, or maybe it was just the way Axel made me feel like I was losing control of my thoughts.

I leaned in, my hands cradling his face, giving him one last, lingering look. His breath caught slightly, and for a moment, I hesitated, unsure of what was driving me. But the pull between us was undeniable. Without thinking further, I closed the space between us, pressing my lips to his.

The moment our lips met, everything seemed to pause. It wasn’t forceful or rushed, but rather soft, tentative—like we were both unsure yet certain at the same time. The warmth from his skin, the faint scent of the ocean mixed with the remnants of his cologne, surrounded me. I felt the gentle press of his lips against mine, a quiet reassurance, as though he was waiting for me to pull away if I needed to.

I didn’t.

Instead, I leaned into him just slightly, feeling the way his hand hesitated at my waist before it gently rested there, steadying both of us. His lips moved slowly, carefully, as if savoring the moment. There was a vulnerability in it, an unspoken question, and it made my heart race in a way I hadn’t expected.

Time seemed to stretch, the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore fading into the background as everything else became a blur. It was just the two of us, caught in this quiet, intimate exchange that somehow spoke louder than any words could.

When we finally pulled apart, my head rested on his chest, breathless. My heart was pounding, my body still humming from the kiss. His hand gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, his eyes soft with something that felt like understanding—maybe even a little awe. Neither of us said anything, but in the silence, there was a shared certainty. It had happened.

—

Walking back to the hotel was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. It was that kind of silence where everything felt right, where words weren’t needed to fill the space. We just enjoyed each other’s company, the soft rhythm of our footsteps in sync.

When we reached my hotel room, I turned to face him, my hands resting gently on his shoulders. Before either of us could say anything, he leaned in, and we kissed again. This time, it was different. It was deeper, more intense, as if we were trying to memorize every sensation in case it was the last time. The kiss held a sense of urgency, an unspoken longing. Even though we both knew we’d see each other again that evening, in that moment, it felt like saying goodbye.

We pulled back reluctantly, but neither of us wanted to let go. Axel gave me a quick, soft kiss on the lips before stepping into the elevator. As the door began to close, I waved at him, my cheeks flushed with a mix of warmth and the excitement of the moment.

The elevator door closed with a soft ding, and I turned to face my room, my heart still racing. I knocked on the door, hoping Sam would be inside, but there was no response. No sign of life from the other side. Sighing, I leaned against the door, feeling a little deflated but still smiling, the feeling of Axel’s kiss lingering on my lips.

—

I leaned against the wall for a few minutes, the silence of the hallway around me, letting my mind replay the moments with Axel. Then, my phone buzzed, snapping me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen, surprised to see a notification: Axel had followed me on Instagram.

A smile tugged at my lips as I quickly tapped the follow button to return the gesture. Right after, I saw the message pop up from him. My heart skipped a beat as I opened it.

‘Have a nice sleep. Thank you for today,’

I sighed, smiling to myself as I replayed the events of the night in my head. The warmth from our kiss still lingered, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of happiness that was hard to shake. But then, suddenly, a thought hit me—I didn’t have a room to go to.

My heart skipped a beat as I realized that Sam was probably still out and I hadn’t made any arrangements for the night. I glanced at the empty hallway, feeling a little lost. The idea of wandering around the hotel wasn’t exactly appealing

‘Axel, could you do me a favor?’ I typed, my fingers pausing before I hit send.

‘Of course, what is it?’ The text said and I sighed.

‘I seem to have forgotten my room key, and I don’t really want to wake up Sam. Could you help me out and let me crash in your room for the night? Just until morning,’ I texted, hitting send before I could second-guess myself.

I smiled, feeling a mix of relief and excitement as I read his message. Room 415. I quickly grabbed my things and made my way to the elevator. My heart raced a little faster than usual, but this time it wasn’t from anxiety—it was more of an anticipation.

As I stood waiting for the elevator doors to open, my phone buzzed again. Another notification from Axel.

‘Don’t worry, the bed’s big enough. You can relax.’

I chuckled softly to myself, feeling even more at ease. With a quick breath, I stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed behind me. It wasn’t much longer before I reached his floor.

I walked down the hallway, my footsteps almost echoing in the quiet of the night. When I arrived at his door, I hesitated for a moment before knocking softly.

The door opened almost immediately, and Axel stood there with a relaxed smile on his face, clearly having been waiting for me.

‘Hey,’ he greeted, stepping aside to let me in. ‘Make yourself at home.’

I stepped inside, feeling a warm sense of comfort wash over me. The quiet intimacy of the room felt calming, and I couldn’t help but feel a little more at peace.

I looked at Axel, taking in his casual yet somehow perfect appearance: a black hoodie, a white shirt underneath, and grey sweatpants that somehow made him look effortlessly handsome. There was a comfort in the way he stood, relaxed but confident.

I walked up to him, my heart pounding a little faster, the distance between us growing smaller with each step. Standing on my tiptoes, I gently cupped his face before leaning in and kissing him softly. The kiss was light at first, tentative, but as I started to pull away, he caught me by the waist, pulling me closer. His lips met mine again, this time with more urgency, more passion. The kiss deepened, our connection intensifying, as if neither of us wanted to let go of this moment.

My hands found their way to his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his hoodie, while his arms wrapped around me, holding me close. The room around us faded away, and all that mattered was the feeling of his lips on mine, the way his touch made my heart race. It was a kiss that said more than words could, a kiss that made everything else feel insignificant.

After some time, we reluctantly pulled away, the lingering warmth of the kiss still filling the air. I yawned, suddenly feeling how exhausted I was, the weight of the day catching up to me. Axel, noticing, gently handed me some clothes, and I smiled gratefully at him before heading into the bathroom.

The shower was quick but refreshing, the hot water washing away the tension and fatigue. I quickly braided my hair, feeling a little more awake as I stepped out of the bathroom. When I emerged, I saw Axel lying on the mattress on the floor, his eyes closed, clearly trying to get some rest. His posture was relaxed, and he seemed so at ease in the room, even though the circumstances weren’t ideal.

I paused for a moment, watching him. There was something so comforting about how he looked there, in his own little world, yet still so present with me. With a small sigh, I walked over to the edge of the mattress, sitting down beside him. He opened one eye, glancing up at me before offering a sleepy smile.

‘Getting some sleep now?’ I asked softly, trying not to disturb his calm.

‘Yeah, just waiting for you,’ he murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness. ‘But, I’m not going to last long.’

I smile. ‘Why are you on the floor?’ I ask softly, gently caressing his cheek. ‘You can sleep with me if you’d like.’

Axel hesitated for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked up at me. The offer hung in the air between us, quiet but filled with unspoken understanding. He blinked slowly, clearly processing my words.

‘I didn’t want to make things awkward,’ he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. ‘I figured you’d prefer your space.’

I smiled, brushing my thumb across his cheek gently. ‘It’s not awkward,’ I reassured him. ‘You’re always welcome to be close. Don’t worry about it.’

He looked at me for a second longer before giving a small, almost shy smile. ‘Thanks.’

Without another word, he shifted, moving toward the bed, his body still tense but clearly relieved. He laid down next to me, a little awkwardly at first, but then his body relaxed as he settled in.

I pulled the blanket over both of us, my hand finding his, squeezing it gently. The warmth between us was comforting, and for a moment, everything felt right. We both closed our eyes, the silence between us now peaceful and easy, as we drifted off to sleep together.

A/N; hiii everyone, just finished watching cobra kai part 2 and I LOVE ITTT! I have such a MASSIVE crush on Axel :p I wanted to apologise for my spelling mistakes 😓 have a nice day further! love yourself and drink a lots of water :)

love ya

xoxo Z.S.