#and i will forever be covering up until i lose this weight

[sobbingscripter]

𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌹wc. 5471🌹୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

“Yeah.” Your voice is soft, fingers carding through Mark’s hair, the silky feel between your fingers is the only thing keeping you from wearing your excitement on your fucking forehead.

“Wait, really?” He perks up, pretty brown eyes focused on your face, searching your expression for a hint of deception but all he finds are kiss swollen lips curled into a sheepish smile, fluttering lashes and a tongue that swipes across your bottom lip with the same fluidity he wants to feel against his leaky tip.

“Yes, really.” You snort.

And Mark’s excitement is palpable, lips curling into a wide grin, and he sits up, blankets pooling at your hips and you glance down at the very, very prominent shape in his boxers. The fabric pulled so taut that you’re beginning to think he might actually lose circulation and you watch as Mark reaches over, grabbing your phone from beside his and he unlocks it.

Fingers flying over the cracked screen guard, and he taps his fingers impatiently against your cover.

“What are you doing?” Your brows scrunch in confusion, thighs tossed over his ones and you feel the way warm muscles tense and twitch under the weight of your legs.

“Playlist.” Mark whispers, his fingers scrolling through your Spotify, adding just the right songs.

“Are you serious?” You groan, laughter tinging at the edge of your voice, as you stare at Mark. Clad in a President Nixon T-shirt and black boxers, raven strands tousled messily from the way your fingers carded through the strands so incessantly, a dopey grin formed by lips reddened from kissing and his fucking eyes.

So dazed, pupils blown wide and long lashes fluttering with each half-blink. Light reflects off the pretty brown of his eyes, and you could stare at him like this forever.

“Okay, done.” Mark whispers, setting your phone back down and he adjusts the sound just a bit until he’s hovering back over you, lips ghosting over yours. The ball of his nose bumping against yours in sweet butterfly kisses, his hand moving to rest on your waist while the other supports his weight above you.

“Do you have condoms?” Mark questions softly, lips pressing against yours in sweet, gentle kisses. Slowly trailing his lips along your jaw, his hips pressing into yours and you feel the way he grinds his clothed cock against your pussy, the flimsy fabric of your nightshorts doing nothing to obscure how you’re soaking through the cotton.

“I— hah…” A weak sigh leaves your lips when Mark kisses the hollow beneath your ear, and your thighs wrap around his waist firmly “I don’t think we wear the same condom size.”

A breathy laugh against your neck has your cunt oozing slick, a pool beneath your hips and you’re trying not to whine whenever his ridge catches at your sloppy folds. “Yeah.” Mark murmurs. “Your dick’s so much bigger than mine.” And he kisses the curve of your neck. “What size are you?”

“Magnum.” You whisper. “Extra large, with extra ribbing.”

And Mark laughs, his head lifting. “Why do you know so much about condoms?”

“I don’t.” You snort. “I pulled that out of my ass, but.” You hum. “How couldn’t you guess that? Don’t you know about condoms?”

And Mark shrugs. “No. I always thought that with the right person, I wouldn’t have to wear them.”

His voice is quiet as he looks down at you, pretty eyes roving over your features and he swallows, lips curling into a dorkish grin that has you weak, your belly clenching at the way he slips his hand under your shirt, giving your waist a gentle squeeze before his hand slides up further. Stopping until his thumb traces over the curve of the underside of your breast.

“Call it alien instincts.” He whispers, pressing another kiss to your neck and you sigh. “M’still waiting for you to dry out and get all gross.”

“I’m not like ET. I’m basically like… Kryptonian.” He answers softly, sucking a mark into your skin and you gasp at the sudden sharpness of the action. A slight pinch that makes your heels press into his lower back.

“And what’s your kryptonite?” You hum softly.

“I’d tell you to take a guess but that’s kinda cheesy.” Mark whispers against your skin. “So, it’s comic books.”

You let out a giggle, your lips parting to say something but Mark’s thumb brushes over your nipple, teasing the velvety soft bud until it stiffens beneath his grasp and you take a shaky breath, your lashes fluttering shut as you feel the way Mark’s kisses trail lower and lower, until he’s pushing your shirt up, past your belly and tucking it beneath your chin.

And he stares.

Unapologetically.

Muscular fingers flexing as they grasp at your hips, brilliant chestnut pools focused and trained on the way your nipples harden, pebbling under his gaze. And you swallow.

“Is something — bitch, wait, are you playing The Weeknd?” You attempt to sit up, shifting enough for your elbows to support your weight but Mark presses a hand on your chest, pushing you back down and he dips his head. His tongue’s hot as he drags along your nipple, eyes glancing up to watch your expression as his lips find purchase, tongue flicking and his other hand moves back to palming your unattended tit. Your body nearly leaves the surface of your mattress at the way Mark attends to you, pandering to your body and you whine.

“Are you sensitive here?” Mark breathes out, but it’s like you don’t hear him immediately.

Your fingers are raking through his hair, nails dragging along his scalp and Mark groans, eyes fluttering shut as he shifts his attention to the other.

He’s impeccably good at it.

But clumsy enough for you to know that this is his first time.

His hips rut against your thigh desperately and you let out a low sigh, your eyes rolling back.

“Shit…” You whisper, swallowing hard before you nod. “Apparently so.”

And he grins.

“Score.”

Mark tugs at your nipple with his teeth and he lifts his head to admire you.

Glossy, swollen nipples, a belly that’s dipping inward with every shallow breath you take and Mark’s hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling them down in one go and Mark tosses them aside. Before grasping at the edge of his shirt, pulling it overhead and tossing it aside.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect.” He breathes out, desperately as he shifts, kisses and hickeys scattering themselves across your torso with each desperate press of his lips, fingers wrapped around your thighs and Mark pushes your legs apart. His lips pressing a kiss against your fleshy, plump mound before guiding your legs to part comfortably.

And your hands immediately go to cover yourself, and he lets out a little hum, before shifting, peering at you with a confused expression. “You okay?”

And your lips purse as you try to find a way to say you’re a little nervous about that. “Are you like….” You chew on the inside of your cheek. “Does— do you have to like… do that?”

Mark lifts the covers, hands moving to support his weight as he stares down at you. “If you’re not comfortable with it, we don’t have to do that. It’d just make it easier for later, you know.”

“It’s not that I’m not comfortable, it’s like… You don’t have to, if you don’t like… wa—"

“I want to.” Mark interjects. “I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for me. I gotta put me first.”

You snort, loudly before looking at Mark. Your brows furrowing as you remember your anxiousness. What if it doesn’t… Like…

“What if it’s like not… You know?”

And Mark lowers himself back to between your thighs, his chin resting on your mound and he watches you with soft, empathetic eyes.

“The worst possible thing that could happen, is you tasting like pennies because you don’t drink water.” Mark deadpans. “But I like the taste of pennies.”

And your lips purse. “We’ll get back to the penny tasting part later but are you sure?” Your voice is quiet.

“I’m sure.” Mark whispers back. “Can I show you how sure I am?”

When you nod, Mark’s head dips and he sighs in delight

Thumbs move to spread your puffy lips apart, your glossy cunt being stared at so intently that you can feel it. But it doesn’t make you any less horny. And Mark groans quietly when he watches the way you twitch.

“Demogorgon.” Mark breathes out and you gasp. “Mark, you fucking asshole. That’s not fun—…nnyyyyy..”

You whine weakly when you feel the way his warm tongue drags through your sloppy folds, slick pooling on the wet muscle and Mark groans as your thighs press against his ears.

Mark feels the way your cunt twitches against his tongue, and he tugs a folds into his mouth, eyes focused on your chest and the way your breath stutters, rather than the whines you’re muffling with your hand.

You’re writhing. With the way you’re trying to simultaneously get away AND closer to his tongue, Mark’s finding it hard to keep the smile from his face. Your fingers sink into his hair, fisting the raven strands and he groans, tongue lapping needily at your dripping pussy and when Mark pays attention to your clit, you squeal. A hand on his forehead, pushing him away.

“Not there—!” You hiss, your voice a weak whine and Mark lifts his head, staring at you from beneath heavy lashes.

And Mark huffs. “Listen here,” He swallows, pushing the covers out of the way and ultimately, leaving them bunched at his waist instead, “I can lick a pudding cup clean in like, a minute. This, this is my calling.”

And you pant, bleary eyes glancing down at him, your cheeks flushed and hot.

“You’re a literal superhero.” You remind him. “I think that’s more … Your calling.”

“Well, lucky for me, I don’t pay you to think.”

“You don’t even pay me.”

And Mark lets out a boyish little giggle, peering up at you and this time, he can make out your features properly. So much better than when the covers were obscuring his vision.

“Shhhh.” Mark shushes you. “I’m busy eating.”

You roll your eyes, although it’s to the back of your head but you’re pretty sure your point is across. Fingers remain clutching your thighs, Mark’s lips find purchase around your clit and he’s suckling at the sensitive bud, only stopping to drag his tongue along the nerves and you whine.

Your body feels like it’s on fire.

“Is it good?” Mark whispers softly. “Do you like that?”

And you nod weakly. “Uh-huh, keep doing that. M’really close…”

Your belly dips in shock, lungs taking in deep breaths of air that just don’t seem enough when you feel his tongue drags along your slit, your toes curl and your brows bunch. And your hips jerk upwards.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” You pant. “Mark, m’gonna—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence when your orgasm’s ripping through you like a tidal wave, slick bursting from your gooey walls and trickling down your already sloppy cunt. Your body shivers, nerves wracking and you’re trembling with each swipe of Mark’s tongue. And he groans.

“Fuck, you taste so good. What are you eating?” And he peers up at you, his chin glossy and his eyes hazy.

“Uh— berries? I’ve been eating a bit healthier. You know, more juices, less soda.” And Mark nods his head, tongue out and dragging sloppily against your cunt, before he raises his head.

“Keep doing that.” And he buries his face back between your thighs, latching onto your clit and he shakes his head, hands shifting to the backs of your thighs, pushing your legs to your chest. And you’re spread out like a meal. Something for him to admire and feast on until either of you pass out.

And Mark drags his tongue from that furled hole, all the way up to your pretty, puffy pearl and you gasp.

“Way too close!” You huff. “You can’t go that close to my ass.”

And Mark groans against your pussy, looking up at your from beneath furrowed brows and his words are barely audible.

“Boo, tomato, tomato.” He slurps at your cunt, and the sound is loud enough that it drowns out your weak mewls. You’re a little bit oversensitive, your thighs still a bit unsteady and with the way Mark keeps prodding his tongue, you’re guessing he’s not stopping anytime soon.

“Have you ever been fingered?” Mark whispers, using one of his hands to push his hair out of his face, and he melts when your hand replaces his, fingers sliding through the strands and keeping them from falling to his face.

“Where would I have found the time to be fingered?” You breathe out, body twitching whenever his breath ghosts over the slick, a chill breeze that makes your toes curl in your socks.

“Your parents aren’t ever home, you don’t have any hobbies other than sleeping.” Mark shrugs.

“You described an extremely busy schedule to me just now, and I’d like for you to find fingering time on there.”

And he huffs.

“Yapper.” And his middle finger slowly pushes into your cunt, and gorgeous, blown out brown eyes focus on your face, watching every twitch o your brows, every part of your lips for even a lick of pain and discomfort. Your body shifting until your feet are planted on the bed, on either side of him.

“How does it feel?” Mark whispers, tongue tracing over your clit and you swallow hard.

“Like… a little uncomfortable but it doesn’t really hurt-hurt.” You answer softly.

“And if I do this?” Mark’s finger curls, the calloused pad of it brushes against that gooey spot you’ve never reached before and you gasp, nails dragging against his scalp when you fist his hair.

“Do that, please.” You sigh. “S’good.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Mark whispers quietly, his brows scrunching and he can feel the way his cock aches in his boxers, precum soaking through the fabric and he ruts against your bed like a fucking animal. But he’s subtle about it.

Mark sucks at your clit, finger thrusting and brushing along that gooey spot, pressing down until there are stars bursting behind your eyelids, and you squeal.

“Fuck, fuck, right the—!”

You’re coming around Mark’s finger, slick pooling beneath your hips, dripping down the crease of your ass. And you’re fine with it being there.

But Mark isn’t.

He forces your knees to your chest again, head dipping lower before he’s dragging his tongue from the edge of your spine, along your furled entrance, your oozing slit and all the way to your clit and circling it with the point of his tongue.

And you gasp.

“Mark. I swear to God. If I get an infection—”

“I’m not sticking my tongue in your ass, oh my God.” He groans. “But fine. I guess you’re just not about that life.”

And you giggle, bringing your hands up to your face to hide your blush. “You fucking dork.”

“Do— do you think you’re ready?” Mark questions, a hand reaching up to push your face slightly. “Look away.”

“I should probably be ready.” You murmur quietly, your gaze lifting to the ceiling but you can’t even deny that the back of your eyeballs are burning to catch a glimpse of what’s been causing the print you kept eyeing.

For the last couple of years.

And Mark peels off his boxers, before flinging them in your direction. And your mouth falls open. “Why are they wet?” You giggle, a snort slipping past your lips as you pick up his boxers, setting them to the side and you look down at where Mark’s hand is wrapped around the base of his cock, ruddy tip ghosting over your folds. You begin to fear for your organs.

“You know, now that I’m looking at it—”

“I won’t make it fit.” Mark deadpans, dragging his cock along your leaking slit, slick coating his cock and he lets out a shuddering breath when he aligns himself with your hole.

And he swallows heavily.

“Take a deep breath…” Mark breathes in.

And your brows bunch.

He looks… Stressed.

Eyebrows knitted, lips parted to let out calculated breaths, his chest heaving and— oh my god, his hand’s shaking.

“Mark?” You call softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.. I’m just like… hyping myself up— fuck, your hand’s so warm…”

Mark sighs, a whimper slipping past his lips when he feels the way your hand wraps around him, gently guiding his tip towards your fluttering cunt, peering down at you from beneath hooded eyes, his skin prickling and he swallows hard. His body shivering, and muscular hands move to rest on your knees, fingers digging into your flesh as he pushes forward.

Your hands are so much daintier than his, softer, smaller and he feels the way your walls clench, cunt snugly wrapping around his flushed and bulbous tip, and Mark’s brows furrow.

And you snort.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is a breathy giggle. “You know, seeing as you’re losing your womanhood.”

Mark’s scowl makes you laugh, your muscles clenching around him and Mark gasps, his hips surging forward a good 3 inches and your eyes widen.

“You motherfucker—!”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” He breathes out. “I’ll pull out.”

His cock drags against your soft, plush walls, him in that way that makes his lips form a pretty ‘o’ shape, brows raising.

“You’re so warm…” He sighs. “For a heart so cold.”

The laugh slips effortlessly from your lips, your lashes fluttering and one of your hands move to rest on his lower belly, fingertips ghosting over the muscles of his abs but the contact’s enough for his stomach to flex, the sight so painfully delicious that if you didn’t feel like you were being split in half, you’d have slid a dollar down his torso, and Mark leans over you, the silver chain dangling in front of your eyes.

Lips pressing against yours, and your arms slink around his neck, thighs parting to accommodate him better and you feel that uncomfortable burn as he slowly pushes into you. Your nails drag down his back, a satisfying purr slipping past Mark’s lips and he shushes you.

“It’s okay, its okay.” He coos. “It’s gonna feel better in a minute, yeah?”

A hand slips down between you, fingers gently circling your clit, the sensation makes your body thrum and Mark groans, face pressed into the curve of your neck when he hears the lewd way your pussy squelches around him.

“You’re so… Tight… Fuck, shit—” Mark swallows, “—I need to pull out.”

His chest heaves, and he lifts himself just a bit, hands shifting to your hips and your brows bunch.

“Now?”

“Yeah, right now...” He swallows hard, chest heaving and a sharp breath leaves his nose. “…s’too much. I’m gonna come.”

He looks down at where your pussy swallows him, plush and glossy lips busted open, slick trickling down the sides of him and he swallows, expression damn near pained and he lets out a whine.

“I don’t wanna.”

Mark leans forward, sweaty torso pressed against you, his face buried in your neck and you whine when he pushes deeper into you, mushroom-y tip pressing sloppy French kisses against your cervix, your fingers sinking into the hair at his nape and Mark whimpers when he feels the way you clamp down on him. Precum smearing against your slick walls with each shallow thrust of his hips, desperate humping as he whines into your neck, needy and his arms wrap around you, fisting the fabric of the shirt you have yet to take off.

He doesn’t mind it.

It’s his shirt.

“Don’t pull out.” Your lips brush against his ear, and Mark swallows hard. His heart beating against his ribcage, body prickling with nerves and he nods his head.

“Okay.” He breathes out.

Mark sits up, watching the way your thighs are strewn lazily across his, his cock buried deep enough that he can make out the little bulge just below your navel and he pulls out slowly. Watching as each inch of his cock emerges coated in a gloss that reflects the light that creeps through your curtains, before pushing back in.

Your body keens, nearly instinctively curling into yourself and he brings his hand back down, his thumb pressing tight circles on your clit and you gasp, nails digging into his forearms and your head tips back, your throat bobbing.

“Fuck, right there.” You pant out.

Mark’s slowly picking up speed, gentle thrusts that push him closer to the edge and when your body spasms, belly dipping inward and your knees pull themselves to your chest, he knows he’s a fucking goner.

Mark’s hands bracket the backs of your thighs, pushing your knees to your chest and he pushes into you, feeling the way your pussy clenches and Mark comes.

And God, he pulls you out of your reverie with the pornographic moan he lets out. Plump, pink lips parting, brows scrunching into a twitching frown, eyes squeezed shut and his hips keep moving. You feel the way his cum paints your insides, pearlescent droplets slipping out of you and pooling beneath you. His thumbs press into the fat of your thighs, pushing your legs just a bit further apart and he fucks into you deeper, faster.

“Fuck, you feel so good—” Mark gasps, peering down at you with hazy eyes and blown out pupils.

“Play,” he pants, head lolling and tipping back, moonlight dancing on the crown of his head, “play with it while I fuck you.”

Mark has your brain turning into mush, your fingers moving to lazily swipe over your clit, dainty fingers swirling over the bud and Mark watches the way your toes curl, pussy squelching and gushing around him as you come. Your legs shaking, your heart beating so much louder than he’s ever heard it before and you’re whining. Squealing, nails dragging at his forearms and leaving streaks behind in the flesh.

When your hand falls away, Mark simply takes over.

A true friend, pinching your clit between calloused fingertips, rolling it until you’re swatting at his hands, the overstimulated bud swollen and he groans when he feels you push at his belly.

“N-no….” You whine. “S’too much…”

“Move your hand.” Mark huffs, before he pins your hands above your head, leaning forward and you gasp when his hips grind against yours, his face pressing into the curve of your neck. He sucks marks into the flesh, sweet hickeys and his hips meet yours in a messy cacophony of plap! plap! plap!

“It’s too much…” You pant out.

“But you look so pretty, though.” He coos. “You can take it, can’t you?”

Mark kisses away the tears that roll down your flushed cheeks as you nod weakly, your chest heaving and glossy lips parting.

“You wanna switch positions so you can cry in peace?” Mark whispers and you nod.

“Mhm.”

You’re flipped onto your belly effortlessly, a pillow stuffed beneath your hips, and Mark slowly pushes into you. Your back’s arched so deeply, your face pressed into your pillow and your hair’s a bit of a mess as Mark gently tugs the T-shirt from your body.

“Shit, ‘s big.”

And Mark grins.

“I’m big, huh?” He taunts you, hand moving along the curve of your spine and he feels the way you clench down on him.

“Yeah, your fat head’s big.”

And Mark sighs. “Not fucked out enough to compliment me?”

You shoulders shake as you snort with laughter, lifting yourself just enough to peek at him over your sweat-slicked shoulder.

“Not even close.” You lie and he hums, his hands moving to palm the fleshy globes of your ass, spreading the fat and he watches your furled hole clench as a thick wad of saliva travels down the cleft of your ass.

“Guess I’m just gonna have to fuck the niceness into yo—”

“Want a break from the ads?”

Marks expression falls, his attention moving towards the illuminated screen of your phone, bright green on display and he swallows hard.

“How fucking cheap— Just get premium!”

“Premium’s expensive!”

“I’m not even kidding right now, I’ll give you my actual bank account if you get premium.”

“I’m not getting premium. That’s like, the ultimate final boss of consumerism.”

Mark groans loudly when the ad finishes, and he lets out a breath. Before he waits, impatiently tapping at the base of your spine, eyes narrowing at the back of your head the longer it takes. And then, something plays.

“What shit is this?”

“No, no, leave it. I like this.” You swat his hand away, your head moving to the stupidly catchy tune and Mark shuts his eyes.

“I’m actually gonna choke you out. What is this?”

“It’s ‘Year of the Ca—’ mmph! ”

You’re interrupted when Mark pushes your face into your pillow, hands gripping the fat of your hips and he shifts closer, cock churning your insides with each thrust he gives, cum leaking down your inner thighs and he groans. The lewd squelch of your cunt nearly drowns out the soft voice of Al Stewart, but not enough. Mark’s brows are furrowing, swallowing hard as he feels another coil begin to form is belly. Aggressive and fiery, Mark’s snapping hips have the fat of your ass recoiling of the sharp angles of his hips, one hand moving to grasp the back of your neck while the other clutches at your headboard.

His hips are unforgiving, brutal thrusts that has your walls spasming, nails clawing at the sheets of your bed, your back arching and you’re pushing back against Mark, ass flush against his hips and you’re letting out weak, muffled whines into your pillow. Drool, and tears mix and you raise your head, looking over your shoulder at Mark.

“Mark…” You complain, your body breaking in a cold sweat when he pulls out of you, leaving your drooling pussy to clench around. And your expression falls when you watch the way he picks up your phone, swiping through the various musical options.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” You hiccup.

“I cannot fuck to this. I’m so sorry, it’s just—”

“Markus!”

“Fine!”

Mark’s shoving his cock back into you, the warmth is inviting and that fucking stretch has you gasping, eyes rolling back in your head and you whimper.

You don’t know how long you’re gonna last with his hips thwacking into you like you owe him money.

You probably do, but you have no intention of paying him back.

Your belly’s coiling, your toes are curling and your body’s threatening to go slack and Mark leans forward, pressing a kiss against your back.

“M’gonna come inside, yeah?”

“Uh-huh….” You nod weakly. And a pitchy sound rings out when you feel the way his cock pushes out thick, pearly ribbons that leave streaks across your gooey walls, and your body goes limp, his following and you’re grasping at your pillow. Letting out panted breaths and he kisses along your shoulders, warm and affectionate presses on his lips that have you sighing.

And his hips roll against yours. Slow and deep, and you’re whining weakly.

“It’s too—”

“You can give me one more.” His breath ghosts over your ear, arms wrapping around your midsection and he pulls you closer to him. He can feel your heart beating as erratically as his, your body warm and sweat, skin flushed. “I’ve heard you come 5 times, back to back. You can do it for me.”

And you whine, pressing your face into the sheets as his hips roll against yours, grinding into you and fucking his cum deeper.

“You wanna get on top?” Mark coos softly and he watches as you shift almost uncomfortably, raising your hand weakly and you flip him off.

And Mark hums, a snort of laughter slipping past his lips and he lets out a soft moan at the way your fleshy cunt squeezes him, before he pulls out of you, flipping you onto your back.

“You’re so pretty.” Mark coos, hands brushing along your hips and belly, sliding up to your chest and he ghosts his thumbs over your perky nipples, still oversensitive and he watches the way your body twitches.

Big doe eyes are tear-filled, your lashes fluttering and your lips are swollen. And Mark glances down to where your glossy pussy remains unattended and he sighs softly, biting his bottom lip as he pushes back into you, inch by inch. Watching the way your back arches off the bed.

“Can you put your legs on my shoulders?” Mark speaks softly, hands massaging along your thighs and his gaze flicks up to yours, and the way you’re staring at him makes him smile, dimples deepening in his cheeks.

He looks…

'Radiant', as zesty as it is, is the only word to describe him.

Muscled body coated in a thin sheen of sweat, droplets traveling down the delves of his muscles, broad chest heaving, a thin silver chain glittering in the faint light. His hair falls over his face, a few strands stuck to his forehead and his eyes. They’re glittering like ponds of honey, framed by dark lashes and his lips curl so deliciously into a grin.

“Right.”

He murmurs, before guiding your legs onto his shoulders, leaning forward to press a kiss against your lips as he sighs when your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. He purrs when your fingers disappear into his hair, sweat-slicked strands moving between your fingers as his hips grind against yours.

That scratchy tuft of hair above his cock tickles at your clit, overstimulating the bud even more, his chest presses against yours and he keeps his eyes on yours.

“Why’re you —hah— looking so deep into my eyes?” Your voice is soft, and Mark lets a breathy giggle fan across your face, his hips pressing into yours, timing each of his thrusts with one of your perfect, rhythmic pulses that slowly speed up.

Your orgasm impending.

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re as in love with me as I’m in love with you.”

Mark’s voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it. His lashes fluttering as his lips keep ghosting over the apples of your cheeks, pressing sweet kisses to your rosy and flushed face.

And you swallow.

“I am.”

It’s the first time you’ve admitted it to anyone without there being a comedic undertone, without some… Discrete joke of self-loathing because Mark was looking in every direction except yours. And you swallow, your gaze focused on his.

“Really?” He whispers softly, a hand cradling the side of your face, and he’s drinking in every sensation you have to offer. And you weakly nod.

Only snorting when he presses his rosy face into the curve of your neck, his knees causing the bed to dimple and you feel the way his arms wrap around you, forcing your hips to angle a bit more upward.

And his hips rut.

Hard.

Mushroom-y tip pummelling against that spongy spot, your toes curling and your nails scratching at his back. You’re effectively folded in half, folded in a way that would have lawn chairs jealous because of how much space you’re saving but you can’t even think of that.

Not with the panted praises in your ear, the flurry of “you feel so good” and “fuck, you’re so pretty like this”s making your mind melt. Your body's pliable and weak, electricity pulsing just beneath your skin and your cunt’s oozing, wet shlick! shlick! shlick! sounds accompanying the sounds of his thighs slapping against the fat of your ass.

And you tuck your face in Mark’s neck, nails digging into his skin, biting down on the muscle of his shoulder as you stifle the scream that threatens to tear your throat as you come, gushing and soaking the tops of his thighs, his pelvis and tightly toned lower belly.

Mark wrings you dry. Fucking into you until you’re a weak, trembling faucet and he pulls out, looking down at the creamy mixture that trickles out of your gushing cunt.

And he swallows, panting just a bit.

“Are you okay?” Mark coos, his thumb tracing over your swollen clit, peeking out from between velvety folds and you nod weakly.

“Mhm…” You breathe out, your body prickles with goosebumps, your sheets soaked and you look like deflated sex doll.

“You wanna go again?”

And you stare at him incredulously.

“No.”

T🌹A🌹G🌹L🌹I🌹S🌹T

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[rafes-slut]

Making It Better

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pregnant!You

Summary: You were almost at the end of your third trimester, and the hormones were making you insatiably needy. No matter what you did, you just couldn't get the relief you so desperately craved. With Rafe out of the house, you tried to take care of yourself, but nothing worked. Frustrated and on the verge of tears, you were ready to give up—until he came home. And when he saw the state you were in, there was no way he was leaving you unsatisfied.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, gentle pregnancy sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, mild frustration, Rafe being extra attentive, soft!Rafe moments, mild language.

You let out a frustrated sigh, your head dropping back against the pillows as you stared up at the ceiling. Your skin was hot, your thighs clenched together, and no matter how many times you tried, you just couldn't get yourself off. It wasn’t for lack of trying—your fingers had been between your legs for what felt like forever, rubbing, pressing, circling, but nothing was working. You were desperate, needy, and irritated beyond belief.

The hormones were ruining you.

Your belly was swollen, stretched with the life you and Rafe had created, and while the idea of being this close to meeting your baby should’ve been the only thing on your mind, all you could focus on was the throbbing between your legs.

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes as you let out a small whimper, rubbing your thighs together. It was killing you.

Where the hell was Rafe?

You reached for your phone, checking the time. He said he wouldn’t be gone long, but it had been over an hour. You considered calling him, but what were you supposed to say? Come home and fuck me because I’m about to lose my mind?*

You sighed again, tossing the phone aside and shifting on the bed, trying one more time. Your fingers slipped between your legs, pressing into your soaked heat, but it still wasn’t enough. Your body craved something more—stronger, deeper, something only Rafe could give you.

And as if the universe had heard your plea, the front door opened.

You barely had a second to react before you heard his footsteps, heavy and sure, making their way toward your shared bedroom. You quickly pulled the covers up over your body, biting your lip, but it was too late. Rafe pushed the door open, stepping inside with a cocky smirk.

“Hey, pretty girl—” He stopped mid-sentence, blue eyes narrowing as they swept over you. His gaze flicked from the slight flush on your cheeks to the way you shifted under the blankets. His smirk widened, and you knew immediately that he knew.

Rafe knew you too damn well.

His head tilted, eyes darkening as he walked closer, dropping his keys on the dresser. “What were you doing, huh?” His voice was teasing, but there was an edge of amusement there too. “You look a little… frustrated.”

You turned your face into the pillow, groaning. “Rafe—”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” The bed dipped under his weight as he crawled onto it, pulling the covers down before you could protest. His gaze dropped to where your thighs were pressed together, and he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Poor baby,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke a hand over your belly before trailing it down between your legs. “Can’t get yourself off, can you?”

You whimpered as his fingers pressed against your soaked panties, teasing you through the fabric. Your hips lifted instinctively, chasing the touch, and Rafe let out a low groan.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he muttered, pulling your panties down in one swift motion. “Been laying here like this all by yourself? Getting all worked up with no one to take care of you?”

You nodded weakly, already panting as his fingers slipped through your folds, spreading your wetness. “It—it wasn’t working,” you admitted, voice shaky.

“Mm,” Rafe hummed, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. “Good thing I’m here, huh?”

You barely had time to respond before his fingers found your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. A gasp tore from your throat as your body jerked, relief crashing over you like a tidal wave.

“That’s it,” Rafe murmured, watching you closely. “Feels better when I do it, doesn’t it?”

You nodded frantically, hands gripping the sheets as he worked you over with practiced ease. His fingers dipped lower, slipping inside you, stretching you gently as he curled them just right, hitting that spot that had you seeing stars.

“Rafe—oh my God—”

“That’s my girl,” he praised, pressing kisses along your jaw as his fingers moved faster. “So fucking tight. Can’t wait to be inside you.”

The build-up was fast—faster than it had ever been when you were trying to do it yourself. Your body was desperate for release, and Rafe knew exactly how to push you over the edge.

And when he did, when your orgasm finally hit, it was like a dam breaking. Your body tensed, then shattered, pleasure washing over you in waves as you cried out his name.

Rafe groaned, pulling his fingers from you and sucking them into his mouth, his eyes dark with hunger. “Fuck, baby, you taste so good.”

You barely had time to recover before he was positioning himself between your legs, gripping his cock and running the tip through your soaked folds.

“Think you can take me?” he murmured, rubbing the head against your sensitive clit.

You whimpered, nodding. “Please, Rafe.”

That was all he needed.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you in the best way possible. You gasped, back arching, and Rafe groaned, gripping your hips.

“F*ck, you feel so good,” he muttered, pressing kisses along your throat. “So tight—taking me so well.”

He kept his movements slow, deep, making sure not to put too much pressure on your belly. His hands caressed your body, soothing and possessive, holding you close as he rocked into you.

You clung to him, moaning into his shoulder, your body already on the verge of another orgasm. The pleasure was overwhelming, heightened by how desperate you had been, and it didn’t take long before you were falling apart again.

Rafe groaned at the way you clenched around him, his movements faltering as he reached his own peak. He buried his face in your neck, letting out a low, breathless moan as he spilled inside you, holding you impossibly close.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then Rafe lifted his head, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Feel better now, pretty girl?”

You let out a contented sigh, nodding as you nuzzled into his chest. “Much better.”

Rafe smirked, brushing a hand over your belly. “Good. ‘Cause next time, you call me before you get all worked up like that, got it?”

You laughed softly, already feeling sleep creeping in. “Got it.”

Rafe kissed your forehead, pulling you close. “That’s my girl.”

[heliosunny]

My little sunny apple

Yandere!Caleb x Reader

I had one fic for Yandere!Xavier inspired by sleeping beauty. So why not Yandere!Caleb with Snow White. -There are details that are different from the game-

Growing up in a world devastated by the monstrous Wanderers, Caleb and you clung to each other like survivors in a storm. The orphaned boy you met at the shelter became more than a companion; he became your family. To you, Caleb was a brave, kind older brother, someone you could rely on. But for Caleb, you were so much more—his light.

When Caleb first arrived at the shelter, he was distant and bitter, carrying the weight of loss and distrust. At first, he resisted your attempts to befriend him, brushing off your kindness with scorn. But when he hit rock bottom—sick, starving, and too proud to ask for help—you were there, offering medicine and food, staying up through the nights to cool his fever. When the other children bullied him, you stood by his side, fighting battles that left bruises on your skin but pride in his heart.

It was your unwavering presence that sparked a change in Caleb. He vowed to be strong, to grow into someone who could protect instead of being protected. Despite the world’s chaos, the ancient apple tree in Linkon City—one of the last remnants of beauty—became your sanctuary. Under its shade, Caleb called you "Little Sunny Apple" a nickname that carried the hope and light you brought into his life.

But fate was cruel. During a catastrophic attack by the Wanderers, the shelter fell. The world you had built together shattered as the ground caved beneath your feet. Caleb was dragged from the rubble by strangers, unconscious and broken, while you were left behind, believing he had perished.

---

Caleb’s rescuers were not saviors, they were the Farspace Fleet, a militarized faction bent on survival at any cost. They took Caleb in, reshaped his broken body and fractured mind, and turned him into a weapon. His right hand, once warm and steady, was replaced with a high-tech prosthetic covered in synthetic skin. Under their harsh training, Caleb rose to power, becoming a feared colonel renowned for his ruthless efficiency. But despite his transformation, one thing remained unchanged: his obsession with finding you.

Years passed before Caleb discovered you were alive. The revelation filled him with a manic joy and a burning resolve to never lose you again. But Caleb was no longer the boy you had known. His love, once pure and selfless, had curdled into something darker. Like the wicked stepmother from a fairytale, he became consumed by his need to craft the perfect version of you—one who would never leave his side.

Through years of research into the Wanderers, Caleb had uncovered their secrets. Beneath Linkon City lay their cores, strange organic artifacts that, when harvested and refined, could create a serum granting extraordinary abilities: superhuman strength, longevity, and immunity to the Wanderers' powers. Yet the process was gruesome, requiring the deaths of countless Wanderers and innocent civilians caught in the crossfire.

From this research, Caleb created his masterpiece: a shimmering, otherworldly apple infused with the essence of dozens of Wanderer cores. He believed this "perfect apple" would make you immortal, tying you to him forever.

---

Unaware of Caleb’s transformation, you continued your dangerous work hunting Wanderers, finding solace in quiet moments at the ancient apple tree. It was there, on a rare day off, that you saw him. The man before you was a stranger, his features hardened by years of war, but his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Do I know you?" you asked, skepticism in your tone.

"It’s me... Caleb," he replied, his voice trembling. "Your Caleb."

You were ready to dismiss him as an imposter until he uttered the nickname only one person could know: "Little Sunny Apple."

Tears blurred your vision as years of grief and longing crashed over you. You threw your arms around him, clinging to the boy you had thought you’d lost forever. The reunion was bittersweet—a balm for your broken heart, but beneath the surface, something felt off.

---

At first, Caleb’s gestures seemed loving. He brought you baskets of apples, listened intently to your stories, and promised to protect you from all harm. But his care soon became suffocating. He insisted you quit your job, claiming he could provide for you. When you tried to cook, he took over. When you wanted to explore his ship, he forbade it, urging you to stay in your quarters for your own safety.

One day, curiosity led you to a hidden lab aboard his ship. What you found left you breathless: the glowing apple, its unnatural light casting eerie shadows. Files revealed the truth of its creation—the slaughter of Wanderers, the sacrifices of innocents, all to craft a fruit meant to bind you to Caleb.

"You weren’t supposed to see that." Caleb’s voice cut through the silence.

Horrified, you turned to face him. "How could you? All those lives… for what?"

"For you" he said, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. "To keep you safe. To make sure no one—not the Wanderers, not anyone...could hurt you."

He held the apple out to you like a sacred offering. "Eat it. Please. It will make you stronger. You won’t need to risk your life anymore."

You backed away, shaking your head. "This isn’t love, Caleb. This is control."

---

Caleb’s obsession reached its breaking point when he locked you in his quarters, convinced you would eventually "see reason." Days turned into weeks as you planned your escape, aided by Kevin, Caleb’s adjutant. Kevin, unlike his commander, treated you with kindness and respect. His gentle demeanor and steadfast loyalty reminded you of the princes from forgotten tales—a quiet hero in a story overshadowed by darkness.

Caleb noticed. His jealousy burned like a wildfire, consuming what little restraint he had left. "You still see me as your brother" he snarled one night. "But I’ll show you. I’ll make you see me as more."

Your chance to escape came during a Wanderer attack on the fleet. As chaos erupted, you and Kevin made your way to the lab, determined to destroy the apple. But Caleb intercepted you, his powers—gained from the very serum he had created, rendering him nearly unstoppable.

"Don’t do this" he pleaded, his voice breaking. "Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you."

"You don’t understand, Caleb" you said, tears streaming down your face. "Love isn’t about control. It’s about freedom."

In the struggle that followed, you and Kevin managed to destroy the apple. But Caleb’s fury was swift and brutal. With a single shot, he ended Kevin’s life, his eyes wild with grief and rage.

"You chose him over me" Caleb said, his voice trembling with betrayal. "But it doesn’t matter. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix you."

Caleb’s control tightened after that day. He kept you close, his obsessive love morphing into a gilded cage. You became his "perfect apple" a treasure to be admired but never freed. Yet even in captivity, your spirit remained unbroken. You vowed to find a way to escape—to remind Caleb of the boy who had once valued your freedom as much as your life.

[jasntodds]

Scars [J.T.]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason lets you trace over his y scar

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, scars, mentions of death, bruises, cuts, general minor injuries, hurt/comfort

Words: 1,765

A/n: I just wanted something a little soft for once. If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

Jason carries the weight of every horrible, traumatic, and agonizing event that’s ever happened to him across his body, etched in pale and raised lines across him like a used roadmap. He wears them as cruel reminders that this life is unfair and unjust, even when he tries his hardest to make it so. There are some he pays no mind to, and doesn’t even really notice most days because they are there. That’s that. But, there are others…there are others he looks at as a punishment for everything he’s ever done and everything he never was and could never be. They’re reminders, laughing back at him every day, a sinister echo of his mistakes.

Most days, he tries to pay them no mind, either.

You’re sitting on your knees right beside Jason, his side pressed against the bare skin of your calf. Your eyes are trained on his exposed abdomen, showcasing the scars and cuts and bruises he’s collected over the last few years.

It wasn’t that seeing his body covered in new and old injuries was jarring. That was mostly fine. After the first few weeks of being friends, it stopped being jarring because that's just how it is with Jason. He gets hurt sometimes. It comes with the job and you accept that part of him. The bruises and cuts were very rarely ever jarring. The other scars were never really jarring because of course he has them. That always made sense to you. It's the autopsy scar that is jarring.

With the others, he'd told you it comes with the job and then he'd watch your face contort into a scrunch of worry and paranoia over his well-being, something he doesn't think he deserves most days. When the comment didn't ease your worry, he'd kiss you and give his signature cocky grin, a silent promise that he's fine and the conversation would end. The autopsy scar conversation is never so simple.

You knew he died because he told you not long before you made things official. You knew the story about the Joker and his mom. He told you of the horrid night and bits of pieces of the after. But this is your first time seeing the physical damage of the night that still wakes him up in the middle of the night. Your chest aches for him and it's jarring because he did die and he has to carry that kind of weight forever, something you'll swear until the day you die he doesn't deserve.

With delicate fingers, you trace over the long line of the autopsy scar, Jason’s eyes glancing from your hand to your face. His stomach tenses with the movement and you can’t tell if it’s because your hands are cold, it tickles, or he’s uncomfortable. If you know Jason, you’re kind of figuring it’s the third option. So, you glance back to him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“This okay?” You ask softly.

“It’s fine.” Jason answers, his thumb lightly brushing over your thigh furthest away from him. “Bother you?”

Jason has been cautious not to show you because he knows how he feels about it. He knows that you worry. Seeing some sort of proof of death seems like it might send you spiraling into some sort of tornado of worry until you spin too far away from him. He's been cautious because he adores you and he doesn't want to lose you and he doesn't want it scare you.

You look back to the scar, tracing over it again. “No.” You answer quietly. It hurts your chest because it happened to him. It happened to him and nothing in this world could ever justify the torture and pain he's been through. It doesn't bother you because it is a part of him and you adore him with every beat your heart drums. “Bothers you though.”

Jason’s brows pull together. “How’d you figure?” There’s the slightest bit of a bite in his words like a scared puppy, a default reaction to being seen.

“Why wouldn’t it?” The question leaves your lips freely with unfiltered candor.

Seeing it for the first time, yeah it bothered him. It bothered him because what was the point? It wasn’t some mystery how he died. Maybe it was just legal reasons bullshit that Jason doesn’t care about. Though, he does fully understand that maybe if he hadn’t come back, he wouldn’t care. Or if it had healed, he wouldn’t care. So, that’s something he can’t really blame Bruce for. Instead, it’s that it’s there. Looking back at him in the mirror. Staring up at him when he looks down. It’s always there. It’s as if he was cut open and the weight of death and punishment and regret scattered over his organs and bones, making sure he understands the weight of his own consequences. He just can’t quite shake it and the scar is the reminder.

"I guess." Jason lets out this shaky breath as his stomach tenses below your fingertips.

"It's okay if it bothers you, Jay." You assure him. "I'd bother me if I were you but..." You pause for just a second, pressing an open palm over some of the raised edges of the scar as your eyes are locked on his. "I hope it doesn't bother you too much because you got to live and I don't care what the other bats thought about it at first because I'm glad you got to come back. And you deserve to let the weight off your shoulders for once." Your eyes go back to the scar and trace up the line from the center of his stomach up to the right side of his chest.

Jason's thumb is rubbing lightly against your skin and he wonders why you make it seem so simple. No part of him thinks you believe it's simple but there's something in the way that you say it that almost gives Jason some sort of faith in the idea of it. That maybe there is a day where it won't feel like he's carrying the weight of the world. Maybe there is a day someday where he won't feel the aching and longing of his bones. You offer him tenderness and kindness when the majority of his life has been nothing but skinned knees and broken hearts.

That feels terrifying, too but...maybe he's tired of running away from things because they're good for him. And good to him.

Seeing the autopsy scar for the first time bothered him. Seeing it yesterday bothered him. But, at this exact point in time with your fingers running along the tattered edges, it doesn’t bother him so much.

“Thank you.” Jason holds his words steady with a sort of caution at the edges. "It's not bothering me now." His voice is quiet as his eyes glance to you and then back to your fingers on his skin.

He is entirely exposed to you now. There’s no going back even if that is absolutely terrifying. Jason keeps himself guarded to protect himself and protect everyone else around him. But, you make letting the guard down a little bit easier. You’re tender and delicate with him, two things no one ever is. At no point have you ever thought less of him for the things he’s done and things he’s seen, or the things that rip his body to shreds. You take him as he is and offer him understanding and kindness, two things Jason has been desperate to get from anyone. And he is so thankful for you.

“Good.” Your voice is quiet before your stare goes back to the scar. “I hope it never bothers you again.”

Jason sits up, closing some of the distance between you while you rest your hands in your lap. His eyes run over your face slowly while the corner of his mouth is pinched barely upwards. He looks content. He looks comfortable. His heart is beating a mile a minute as it’s about to run through his ribs. There’s something fluttering against it, something that feels warm and welcoming in the beating of his heart. There’s something that makes his breathing unsteady without ever sucking the air from his lungs. There is something that feels comfortable and like a home he didn’t think he’d ever find.

Jason leans forward, resting his forehead against yours and your entire body relaxes in that instant. He pulls away, pressing a kiss to your nose and then to your cheek before he rests his head in the crook of your neck. You turn your head and press a kiss to his temple before your hands come to his cheeks to pick his head up.

His eyes lock on your eyes and you adore him. You adore him for all that he is today. The scars never really bothered you because they hold him together. All of them have a story that has led Jason Todd to who he is today. They are proof that he is alive. They are proof that even when he was hurt, even when he was murdered, he is alive. The air can be pulled into his lungs and oxygen will circulate through his cells again. He is alive. The autopsy scar is just further proof to you because he shouldn’t have been brought back but he was. And that was for a reason. That scar is just another piece of proof he is meant to be here. It is another mark of how he got here today and you, for one, are eternally thankful that he is here today.

Your thumbs are running over his cheeks and Jason swears he has never felt so wanted by anyone. And he doesn’t feel so damn alone in the world anymore. He feels important and he only hopes he makes you feel the same way. He can only hope you understand how much you mean to him and that he is just as important to you.

Your lips come to his and he melts into your touch as he kisses you back. His hand comes up to the back of your head to pull you in closer. And he thinks he might do everything in his power to have more moments like these with you. You can trace his scars and he can tell you about them and you can exist in the bubble where it is only the two of you. You can trace his scars and he can run his fingers along your thigh and you both can feel wanted and important. And loved.

Tag List: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz // @achromaticerebus // @lovefks // @kolpvii

[22ayla21]

This topic is a bit dark and quite sad, so I can understand if you don't want to accept this request.

But I like how you usually cover a little bit of everything in the scene of your posts (apart from some reactions that are really endearing on the part of the boys of the hsr of those you currently write, and that make you feel happy about how good companions they are):

The scene was how they would react/encourage their wife in case she had had an abortion/loss of the baby (It would be the first pregnancy she had, before the little ones they currently have)

The Weight of Loss

Nothing can compare to how a mother loses her child.

An unnatural silence hung over the palace. Even the guards, usually clattering their boots through the corridors, stepped softer, as if afraid to disturb the quiet. Servants whispered among themselves, and courtiers tried to stay out of sight altogether.

Mydei sat by her bedside, holding her cold hand in his. The room was dim, thick curtains blocking out the light, but even the sun couldn't dispel the chill.

She lay motionless, eyes closed, but he knew she wasn't asleep.

She hadn't uttered a word since it happened.

Mydei looked at her pale, waxen face and felt something inside him tear apart.

He always knew the world was cruel. He had seen cities fall, people die, betrayal corrode souls. But never before had he felt so powerless.

Her shoulders trembled, but there were no tears. Only this frightening, icy silence, devouring her from within.

He didn't know what to say. What words could comfort in the face of such loss?

He simply slowly raised her hand and gently pressed his lips to her fingers.

He wanted to say that the pain would pass, that time would heal the wounds, that they would still have a future. But that would be a lie.

Some wounds don't heal. They become part of a person, changing them forever.

So he remained silent.

Just sat beside her, warming her hand with his own, running his fingers over her skin, letting her know she wasn't alone.

Someday she would smile again. Someday this pain would subside.

But until then, he would be there. Always.

The house was deafeningly silent.

Anaxagoras sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed. His hands were clasped, and a dull, aching pain pulsed in his chest. He had never been good at comforting, and now... Now he simply didn't know what to say.

His wife lay facing the wall, her shoulders barely moving. She wasn't crying aloud, but he knew the tears were there, deep inside, burning her from within.

The child was gone.

He would never hear his voice, never feel his tiny hand in his own. He would never know what color his eyes would have been—hers or his?

But she... She had lost more. Hope. A future she had already begun to build in her heart.

Slowly, carefully, he lay down beside her, not touching her, just feeling the warmth of her body.

"I'm sorry," she whispered after a long pause. He wanted to shout. How could she think she was to blame?

"No," his voice was hoarse but firm. "No, don't you dare apologize."

She didn't answer, just curled up tighter, as if trying to dissolve into the air.

Then he carefully reached out and hugged her, pulling her close. She tensed, but then the trembling of her body intensified, and finally, she broke down in tears. Her fingers dug into his shirt, and his arm tightened around her shoulders.

"I'm here with you," he whispered. "Always with you."

This wasn't the end. It was pain, but not the end.

Silence.

It was everywhere. It filled the space, stretched like a sticky shroud, as if muffling even the quietest sounds. He sat beside her, holding her cold fingers in his hands, but she didn't respond to his touch. Her gaze was empty, staring into nothingness, as if she was trying to find an answer in the air to why it had happened this way.

He didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to break the silence without causing her more pain. Any words seemed inappropriate, false. "Everything will be fine"—a lie. "We'll get through this"—too simple.

And yet, he had to say something.

He gently ran his hand over her back, feeling the tension in every muscle. She sat motionless, but he felt the storm raging inside her.

"I'm here," he breathed. Just that. No extra words.

She flinched. Slowly turned to him, and he saw her eyes—red, dull, full of emptiness. Then her lips trembled, and she whispered, barely audible:

"I failed you."

He had never felt such pain from someone else's words. As if something fragile and precious had shattered in his chest.

"No," he said sharply, louder than he intended. He took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "No. Never. You didn't fail me."

She didn't answer, just lowered her gaze, then buried her forehead in his chest. And only then did he feel her shoulders shake.

He didn't know how to heal this pain. No one did. But he knew he wouldn't leave her alone.

When the tears finally broke through, he didn't pull away. Didn't say everything would be fine. He just held her, stroked her hair, letting her cry.

This pain wouldn't go away immediately. But he would stay by her side. Always.

[rafesbabygirlx]

Rafe loves to taste you

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

Any day, any time Rafe’s mouth is on you. He loves breathing in you in. Kissing you, licking you, biting you. You’re pretty sure your scent is half perfume, half his saliva.

It doesn’t matter if you’re sitting in his truck, in the middle of a party, or curled up in his bed while the rest of the house sleeps. Even out to eat, at some point he ends up on your side of the table face deep in the crook of your neck. He does it like he needs it to live. Like the second his lips aren’t on you, something inside him starts to unravel.

Tonight, it’s late. The island’s quiet, lit up by streetlights and the distant sound of waves. You’re both half-drunk on shitty beer and each other, sitting on the hood of his car in that field that faces the ocean he always drives to when he wants to escape. You’re mid-sentence, something dumb about one of your friends, you’re not even sure anymore, because he suddenly pulls you into his lap and begins nibbling on your earlobe. Swirling his tongue in every crevice of your ear.

You lose your train of thought at the feeling. It’s invigorating. It’s made you stop wearing earrings daily just at the hope he’ll do it. And he always does. His tongue trails down your neck leaving love bites on the back of your shoulder before moving back up where he reaches your mouth.

His hand slips around the back of your neck, thumb brushing against your jaw as he deepens it like he’s got a point to prove. You swear, with Rafe, there’s no such thing as a casual kiss. It’s always a hungry, possessive thing. Like he’s trying to brand the lines of his lips onto yours.

When he pulls back, just barely, his breath fans across your cheek and he whispers, “I love kissin’ you, you know that?”

You laugh, because yeah, you do know. He kisses you like it’s the one thing in his life that makes sense.

✧༺♥༻✧

His mouth moves rough and slow, then fast, then slow again, like he’s trying to mess with your head. His tongue licks into your mouth, deliberate and teasing, like he wants to taste every sound you’re trying to hold back. And then he bites your bottom lip, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp against him. That cocky little smirk spreads across his face before he drags his mouth down your neck again.

“You drive me insane,” he mutters between kisses, tongue tracing the spot he just bit, teeth grazing your skin like he’s deciding whether to mark you for real. “You know that, right?”

You arch against him as his hands slide under your shirt, palms hot, fingertips rough from weight lifting and fights and whatever else he gets into when you’re not around. But here? Like this? He’s focused on one thing only.

“I could kiss you all night,” he says, lips brushing your collarbone, voice low and raspy. “Lick you till you forget your name. Leave you covered in me.”

And the way he says it, like it’s a promise, not a threat, you know he means every word.

✧༺♥༻✧

His mouth drops to the tops of your breasts. He sucks on them roughly leaving a few bruises behind. You let out a moan, alerting him.

“You like when I do that?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper as he moves back in. His breath is warm, and when his tongue flicks over your skin there, you shiver, you can’t help it.

You nod, and that’s all the answer he needs. His laugh is low, cocky, but not mean. He’s proud of himself, proud of how easily he can unravel you.

“I could stay here forever,” he murmurs, tugging your shirt down a little more. “Just kissin’ and bitin’ and makin’ you squirm.”

His fingers press into your hips to keep you still, like he’s the one losing control, and you’re the only thing grounding him.

Then he pulls back, eyes locked on yours, lips shiny and swollen from everything he's just done to you.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he says again, almost like a confession. Then, softer, “But I’m not done with you yet.”

And you believe him because with Rafe, the heat never really dies down. It just simmers until the next spark.

tags <3

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slurpdew @alphabetically-deranged @whydoesthemirrorhateme @currentresidentinhell @slut-4-rafey @akobx @rafesheaven @laniirackssss @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4you @nemesyaaa

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the heavy weight of guilt (part two)

words: 700

warnings: 18+ only, smut, cheating, p in v sex, unprotected sex

part one / part two

“what the fuck did you do?” rafe growls.

“what?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him. “you would never leave her unless she found out, so i made it so you have to be with just me.”

“you're fucking crazy if you think im going to stay with you after you destroyed my family.” rafe grunts out.

“destroyed? you did that by cheating on your wife. don't blame me for exposing the truth.”

“the truth is that you came into me, practically forced yourself onto me.”

“yet you were completely willing. don't be ridiculous rafe. you don't even care about your dumb kids or stupid wife anyways. all you care about is fucking young pussy.”

“aren't you worried ill leave you some day then? get with someone younger as you grow old and wrinkle.” rafe tilts his head to the side, trying to anger you even more.

“oh rafe” you laugh maniacally. “i will never let you leave me. i wont lose you like your wife did.”

“goddamn it.” rafe grunts, bending down and picking you up, slinging you over your shoulder like you're just a sack of flour.

“damn, you're strong when you're pissed.” you chuckle, which just makes rafes hold on you tighten further.

“shut up, please.” he begs. he needs to get his anger and frustration out, and since you're the cause of his guilt, it's going to be by using you.

“fine, we can talk about our new living arrangements after you fuck me silly.” you know you're only antagonizing rafe further as he tosses you onto the bed, throwing you so hard you bounce against the mattress.

“i hate you.” rafe says before smashing his lips against yours, dominating your mouth as his hands begin to strip you of your clothing, pulling it away until you're naked.

“get undressed, let me see you.” you say, trying to unbutton rafes shirt, but he just pushes your hand away.

“im gonna fuck you how i want to fuck you. you're not in control anymore.” 

you're surprised by his sure dominance. he's always been on top before, but he's never disobeyed you.

you keep quiet, lips practically sealing closed as rafe undoes his pants, tugging his zipper down just to pull his cock out, already hard like it always is whenever he's around you.

“god, look at you.” rafe groans when you spread your legs, pussy blossoming open for him like it always does. “such a little slut. my slut, and now im yours too. you made sure of that, huh?”

you're not sure how to respond, but rafe barely gives you any time anyways as he pushes forward, plunging his cock inside of you in one smooth motion.

despite his size, he gives you not even a moment to adjust as he begins to fuck you without a care, snapping his hips forward, focused solely on his own pleasure.

you try to keep your body relaxed as you watch rafe above you. his eyes are on you but they're glossed over, like he's in another place.

you sit up rapidly, tapping your palm against his face. “hey.” you grunt. “you're not thinking of someone else right?”

“what, like my soon to be ex wife? so what if i am? you ruined that already.” 

you move quickly, pulling your body away only to grab rafe and bring him forward onto the bed. he's so surprised by your sudden show of stretch that when you flip him over onto his back he doesn't question it.

“it's only me. you're mine forever.” you sink your pussy down on rafes cock.

his moans betray him as his head tilts back, mouth wide as you ride him, moving your hips quickly and aggressively to spur him on, not caring that your pussy is already sore.

“mine.” you growl as your hands attack the buttons on his shirt until you're able to pull the two sides open and reveal his bare torso, muscled and covered with a faint dusting of hair.

“i know, shit.” rafe knew he was yours from the moment your lips met, cementing the end of his marriage and end of the good guy streak he had going for many years.

“and you're going to cum in me and actually get me pregnant.” you already stopped taking your birth control the day after you sent that video to rafes wife. “and you'll like this kid and raise it how you want and never leave them or me.”

“god, you're fucking crazy.” rafe says, hips rising up to meet yours.

“and that's why you'll be mine forever.”

[lucy-literates]

The Prank

A/N: my first formula fic!! My requests are open if you have someone you want me to write for!

Arthur Leclerc x Norris Reader

Trope: Dumbasses (best friends to lovers)

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, nothing else really

This is based of something I was on Twitter (I refuse to call it X): person a says “I came up with a good prank”. Person b asks what it is, a says “we should kiss”. B says “I don’t get it”, a says “imagine them walking in to see us kissing and just being like “WHAAAAAT??” B says “oh, that’s hilarious. We totally should”

Synopsis: You and Arthur have been best friends since he saved you from a bully when you were kids. You grew up in the Leclerc household, so they knew you very well. You followed Arthur around the world for his racing career. You guys had been given the nickname "Terrible Two's" for all the pranks you pulled around the paddock. Sometimes you pulled them on each other, sometimes you teamed up and pulled pranks together but there was one prank that really topped off the rest of your pranks.

"Y/N!!!" Arthur shouted from the shower in your shared bedroom. He walked out as you hit record on your phone, filming as he appeared. He had his towel wrapped dangerously low around his waist, his hair was dyed a deep red with remnants of the dye dripping down his chest. "Seriously?" he scolded "I have to go to the Ferrari pit tomorrow and my hair is bright red!" You could see the fury in his eyes as you laughed. "Yeahhhh, you're gonna be matching the cars". He crossed his arms over his muscly chest and scowled "Stop filming me, idiot" you rolled your eyes and chucked "Whatever, moron" you said as you stopped recording. You posted it to your story, with the caption "Ready for @ scuderiaferrari tomorrow!" and tagged him in it.

You heard Arthur's phone buzz from the vanity in the bathroom as he headed back in to dry off. You stood up to pack up a bit from your day, getting as ready as you can for tomorrow. This time he came out in a pair of checkered sleep pants, saw you stand up in front of your suitcase and lunged at you, tackling you into the bed. You shrieked as he started assaulting (tickling) you. "St-st-op Art- arty" giggled out. "You turned me red, then posted it for the whole fucking world to see. You deserve this" After successfully kicking him onto the floor, you noticed your phone vibrating in your pocket.

You swiped accept on the call as you answered "Ah, my favourite Leclerc brother. What can I do for you Charlie?" You heard Arthur shout and "Oi" from the floor, making Charles laugh. "I just needed to see Arthur's hair" he grinned. You flipped the camera around and showed a Shirtless, red-haired Arthur lying on his back on the ground. Charles burst out laughing "good to see the support, brother" he got out in between laughter. "I'll leave you to whatever you're doing, y/n. Thank you so much for Arthur's hair" he chuckled as you said goodbye and he hung up. You leaned over the side of the bed, making eye contact with the boy on the floor "wanna get Charles tomorrow?" you asked him. "The day I say no is the day the world ends" he replies. You laughed as you rolled under your covers, Arthur standing up and getting into the bed next to yours, agreeing to come up with the prank tomorrow.

I was lying awake in bed, I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was how Arthur came out of the shower earlier, his glorious torso on display, towel so low you could see his v-line. All I wanted to do was go over and kiss him silly, he’s so hot when he’s cranky. My crush on his has lasted years and he has no idea. I couldn’t ever tell him, it would ruin our friendship and I don’t ever want to lose him. If we’re friends forever then so be it. I put my earbuds in and put on a good playlist, drifting off to my favourite song.

I woke up the next morning with a crushing weight on my chest and hair tickling my nose. It wasn’t until I felt the fingers tickling my ribs thats I started wriggling around, trying to get the giant on my body. “Arty what the fuck” I grumbled “I was having a really good sleep you prick”. He chuckled and rolled off me, lying next to me a pulling me body into his. I looked up, nearly bumping his nose with mine. I was really hoping he couldn’t feel how fast my heart was beating. “We have a prank to plan”

After you finished getting ready, you hopping in the car with Arthur and headed towards the paddock, brainstorming pranks in the car. “I came up with a brilliant one” Arthur tells you. “Ooo what is it?” My curiosity peaked. We haven’t been able to think of any good ones for Charles all morning. “We should kiss” he said nonchalantly. If I had a drink I would have choked on it, instead I stuck to internally freaking out while my heart started beating out of my chest. “Umm what? I don’t get it. How is that a good prank?” I stutter.

Arthur laughs “just think about it. He walks into his drivers room to find his younger brother and childhood best friend making out, our hands all over each other. You could sit on my lap and we could really go to town, Charles would walk in and freak out. He might even faint!” It hurt a little to think that Arthur only wanted to kiss me for a pranks, but there ain’t no way I’m passing up and opportunity to kiss my crush, even if it isn’t supposed to mean anything.

“Ohhh I get it, that’s would be fucking hilarious. We just have to time it really well and make sure no one sees us go in there” I add on. Arthur agrees “that’s it then, the perfect prank” I chuckle at his declaration. We pull up the paddock, scan our passes and make our way in, making small talk with people but never straying too far from each other.

We saw Charles doing some media before he needed to go in and change into his fireproofs and race suits. I tapped on Arthur’s and should and pointed at his brother, explaining my thinking. I agreed and we rushed inside the Ferrari garage, making our way to the drivers room. I hung around the front of it, keeping an eye out Charles so we could start making out at the perfect time.

A huge group of people made their way, signalling that Charles was moving closer. You could hear him and Carlos talking about the track as they came closer. I quickly slipped into his drivers room, finding Arthur already sitting on the bench. I walked over to him as he patted his lap, “hang on” I semi whispered. I could hear that Charles and Carlos had stopped walking, they couldn’t have been too far from the doors. Once I could hear Charles getting louder I looked back at Arthur, “you ready Arty?” I asked. He nodded and pulled me into his lap.

I moved me knees to go on their side of this body, my right hand slide to the back of neck, sliding my hand though his hair and I grabbed a handful of his fluffy hair. My left hand sling around his broad shoulders. His left hand dipped under my shirt to hold my waist, his other hand wound around my neck. He offered me a kind smile as he used the hand around my back to guide me towards his lips.

It started with small pecks, quickly moving to Arthur slipping his tongue into my mouth, exploring while he got the opportunity. Moved myself closer to him, gripping his hair harder which caused him to let out a low moan. I heard the door to the driver room open as I kept making out with my best friend. The hand around my neck moved to ass, moving me to grind on him a bit.

Charles and Carlos stood in the doorway, dumbfounded before Carlos turned to Charles and said “told you they had a thing for each other, cabrõn” and walked off. Charles stared at his friend as he walked off. He looked back at us, still making out as he walked in. He slammed the door shut, making us jump. “What the fuck is going on? Why are you making out? Why are you doing it in my drive room? Oh my god I need to sit down” he rambled.

I got off Arthur as we started cackling, Arthur turned to me and said “told you it was a good prank, he’s absolutely freaking out” I laughed and looked back at Charles. He looked at us like we just old him Santa wasn’t real. “Wait, this is a prank?” He asked as we nodded “I thought I wouldn’t have to listen to Arthur whine about you anymore y/n but this is going to make it so much worse” I was about to ask something when Arthur grabbed my arm and dragged me out.

Once we got outside the garage I stopped Arthur. “Hang on, Arty. Just stop for a second” he stared at the floor. “What did Charles mean when he said you were whining about me?” I asked him. He tried to deflect the question and walk off. I grabbed his hand, turning him to me and lifting his head the make eye contact with me, asking my question again.

Arthur sighed, putting his hands on either side of my face and kissed me. It wasn’t desperate like the previous make out. It was slow and loving. “I don’t really know to say this, now that Charles has outed me, but I’ve liked you for years. The more than best friends kinda like. The reason I came up with that kissing prank was to get the chance to kiss you, even if it is supposed to be to mean nothing.”

Arthur kept rambling, struggling make eye contact. He looked at him, then smashed your lips into his “I like you more than I best friend should too. I have for years” you smile against Arthur’s lips as he kissed you.

[xoluvx]

lunch; b.eilish .˚₊✩ part six ✩₊˚.

and i could never get enough

part five

If there was something you knew for certain, it was that she fit into the curves of your body so perfectly. She fit like the missing piece of your puzzle. Almost as if god handcrafted her and sent her straight from heaven, just for you. As if you were meant to be so much more than friends who occasionally fucked - for research purposes.

What you didn’t know, was that there was no easy way out of this now. No matter how hard you tried to bury that annoying little feeling that was festering in your heart after last night, you couldn't. You couldn't just bury it so deep that it could live with your haunted thoughts.

You. Were. Fucked.

But you were also stuck in denial. Denial that this could carry on for longer. Denial that you didn’t feel used. Denial that this wouldn’t end in complete heartbreak; that you might lose your best friend. Forever.

To say you’d slept was a flat out lie. Maybe you closed your eyes for a total of one hour for the duration of the entire night, but you could hardly sleep with your mind raising, your heart beating, your eyes watering. She was right there. She’d been there the whole time, yet it felt like she was worlds away.

Glancing at her with swollen red eyes, you leaned your body back down on the mattress bringing the covers over your body nuzzling your face into the sheets. The uneasy feeling soothed with the warmth of the blanket and the heat radiating from her body as she stirred again. She turned, eyes closed, and laid flush against your body. Arm wrapping around you so naturally yet so foreignly. It didn't matter that you'd done this so many times before, it was impossible to count on your fingers. But this time felt different.

Billie groaned, a soft whiny groan, as her hips molded into the curve of your ass and that was the only thing you needed to feel at ease. To feel safe and kick that thought deeper until the only thing you could think about was the warmth of her body pressed so close to yours, you could almost feel her heart beating.

Shifting your weight, you carefully turned to look at her. Careful not to wake her. Careful not to disrupt this moment. Bodies nuzzled. Arms at your sides. You watched her. You took her in. Combing through every curve. Tracking the way her lids fluttered even while closed. The way her lips parted slightly as she breathed softly. The adorable little freckles scattered on her face like constellations in the sky.

Swallowing the tight feeling in your chest, you wrapped your arm around her slowly like she was a frail thing made of glass. Like you weren't the one crumbling on the inside. She nuzzled closer, cheek pressed to your side. Arm limp around your body, but warm. So warm and comforting and you were back. You were back in that moment and nothing else mattered. Just your naked bodies intertwined in bed, inhaling the smell of her tangled hair.

It felt like an eternity before you felt her move. Body waking up. Lids fluttering open. Small noises filled the room. Arms stretching and yawning and eyes meeting. And laughter. Oh my god, the sweet sweet sound of soft laughter.

"Good morning," her voice raspy, eyes still tired and half open.

"Morning," you whispered like you were afraid of your voice. Like it'd disrupt the dynamic. Your arm was still wrapped around her. Her face still resting in the nook of your arm. Goosebumps coated her arm and you instinctively rubbed them. The action was so intimate, you drew your hand back quickly and soon after she was pulling on the sheet covering her partly exposed chest.

"So last night-" she started talking sitting up slightly, hand clinging to the cover. Your heart stopped. You weren't expecting to talk about it. You didn't want to talk about it. It needed to stay buried. Blame it on the contract, where the fuck that was.

"-was really good," she finished smiling small. A hue of pink coating her cheeks as she bit her lip without thinking.

The flashbacks came rushing back. Hands on her body, lips on her skin, tongue on her clit. Fingers in your pussy, mouth on your nipples, eyes burning into your soul whenever you made eye contact.

There was something about the statement that calmed your raising thoughts. That drew you closer. That had you focused on her lips. She felt it too as she eased herself closer. With your body propped on your elbow and her hand still clinging to the sheet, she leaned down. Lips softly touching yours.

If you weren't so fucking desperate to feel her touch again you would've been worried about your morning breath. But she didn't seem to care as she leaned down pulling the cover over your bodies as you giggled like a fucking school girl.

She wedged her thigh between your legs. It pressed on your pussy eliciting a soft whimper. Your arms wrapped around her shoulders pulling her closer, her breasts pressed against yours, hands on your waist, fingers digging into your skin.

You were suffocating under the covers, and if you died you'd do so happily in her arms.

It didn't take long for her to slither down your body placing kisses on your skin. So soft almost phantom-like. It made you question if this was actually happening. If this was real.

"Oh my god," you hummed when her tongue ran between your folds. Eyes rolling to the back of your head when her finger entered your pussy. Everything she was doing to you right now was heavenly and fuck, she was getting good at it. And oh god, you never wanted it to end.

Her tongue pressed on your clit, head moving side to side. Eyes closed. She was so lost in your pussy. That only made your insides churn, your legs weak, your heart throb...among other things. Your fingers dug into her already messy hair pressing her face closer to your pussy as you swayed your hips. You were in control. You were the boss.

She hummed in delight grabbing your ass pulling you down on her tongue. It dipped so far up your pussy, her nose was pressed on your cunt. Her breathing tickled your clit. Fuck, it was so glorious. Grinding against her face. Using her for your own guilty pleasure.

You uncovered yourself pulling the covers down and around your torso. You'd been suffocating under the fabric. The noises that left your body were pure filth. Heavy breathing and moaning. Fuck. So much moaning as you ground your hips on her two fingers and her flicking tongue.

You fisted the sheets feeling your legs shake. You were close you could almost hold it in the palm of your hand. But that was physically impossible, so you held hers instead. Fingers interlocked and resting on your thigh under the fabric as you shook and cried out her name.

"Billie, Bil-" you choked gasping for air. Mouth wide open, brows furrowed. Body convulsing. Thighs closing around her head as her fingers slowed. Your fingers still locked, grip tight. She rested between your thighs for a few seconds until they relaxed. Only then did she pry them open, coming up from under the sheet and to your spent face.

"Fuck," you breathed closing your eyes trying to collect yourself.

"How was that?" she asked only half joking. Your eyes fluttered open, brows raised in delight.

"Incredible," you gasped feeling her thigh brush against your sensitive pussy. When she bit her lip and smiled, you lost it. God, she couldn't just do shit like that. It drove you crazy. Absolutely fucking crazy.

Raising your body, you clung to her shoulders kissing her hungrily. Your lips desperate for hers. Teeth tugging at her bottom lip. She matched your energy digging her fingers in your skin as you pushed her back while straddling her waist. The fabric bunching between your bodies.

You pushed her down completely. Her hair fanning out on the bed. Her mouth open, eyes devouring the sight of your body hovering over hers. Your hands roughly pulled at the fabric until her naked frame was completely exposed.

"We're trying something new," you informed and she nodded, eyes big like a lost puppy as she looked up at you. She was wrapped around your finger. Right where you wanted. No thoughts. No feelings. Just touch. Burning, flaming touch.

You raised her arms up, caressing her warm skin along the way until you were clasping her wrists with your hands. Lips melting together as your legs intertwined, thighs pressed on each other's pussies. It was you who started moving first. Grinding yourself against her thigh as your lips moved in sync.

"Move," you instructed bringing a hand down to her hip urging her to sway. She hummed against your lips swaying her hips. Each time she moved, she rubbed against your thigh and there was something about those combined movements, your pussy on her thigh and your thigh on her pussy, that was making her see stars.

When she tossed her head back in bliss, she gave you full access to her neck. You pressed your tongue to her skin, feeling her rapid pulse. You gripped her waist aiding her body in her now ragged movements. Your own hips faltering when you felt the coil winding so tight you were sure to snap at any moment.

"Please-" Billie choked swallowing. Your bodies shifting on the bed, as you used each other for your own selfish reasons. Her head almost hung off the edge of the bed. Your face buried in her neck as your teeth nipped at her skin. Fingernails leaving crescent moons on her raw skin.

"I need-" she cursed and cried swallowing her words. "-I need to cum."

Moaning in her ear, she flinched and twitched. Her movements sporadic.

"Please, please I need to-" she was begging and that was music to your ears. It was the only reassurance you needed. This wasn't over. You weren't over. There was more to learn and explore and feelings was not one of those things. And you didn't care.

God, you didn't care as long as you felt her cum now, tomorrow, and possibly forever.

•

•

.˚₊✩ taglist ✩₊˚. @rockyourworldcc @be3flow3r @crazyoffher @lulukings92 @iknowhowtobend @ash198458 @delusional-4-fake-people @dandelions4us @jollyreginaldrancher @chrissv4mp

.˚₊✩ masterlist ✩₊˚.

[valentine-cafe]

hi hi!! may I request for affogato, croissant, churros, key lime pie, and revani?

just them having to deal with a male reader who gets absolutely clingy when they’re tired. like oh hey you got work to do or have to get up? nah there’s just a starfish clinging on to you for dear life. trying to pry them off will result in whines of protest and weaponized puppy eyes. (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

˖⁺. “ don't go ! ” : 

﹙ various monster boyfriends x male reader ﹚.𖹭

. . . various monster boyfriends x male reader !! 🍒 : 

characters dealing with a male clingy ready

﹙ cws ﹚: none ! | wc : 1.2k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: this is soooo cute 🥺

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

﹙ vespasiano 781. ﹚. . . maybe a few more minutes aren’t too bad. . . !! 🍒 :

“Non puoi aggrapparti per sempre, tesoro, devo alzarmi.” ( You can't hold on forever, honey, I have to get up. ) Your husband grunts quietly, rolling over so that his weight is all put on down on you.

A soft puff of air leaves whining lungs and arms cling tighter around the warm torso they’d been holding onto for the entire night.

“Stay with me. . .” Emerald eyes pan over to pool into the pair below them. While rough but gentle hands squeeze at the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Can’t.” Vespasiano grunts back in response. Looking away to avoid the puppy eyed stare you give him.

Oh you persist, do you not? Like the strong winds by the shorelines of his hometown.

“. . . Alright maybe just a few more minutes then.”

“The whole day!”

“Now you’re stretching it.” He laughs and pulls the covers back over the both of you, his lips against your skin like the leaves of the magnolia trees outside

﹙ jìngyí 209. ﹚. . . takes you to work !! 🍓 :

Your husband just went to put his coat on, readying himself for work. Yet before he knew any of waltzing out of the ornate mahogany door of the herrera manor, black fabric was pulled off of broad shoulders for sneaky little hands to grab onto a red silken shirt.

“Baobei.” He warns you gently and looks back with raised brows, unimpressed at your little attempt of keeping him away from patients.

Yet how can he keep the cold heart of his from beating and going warm when you look up at him with big eyes and a sigh of defeat and sorrow riddled across your handsome features.

“Oh. . . But there are so many doctors, surgeons and nurses at your clinic. . .” You murmur, blinking your eyes a few times to persuade him a little more to stay.

“Can they not wait, gege?” You leave him between a rock and a hard place, don’t you?

He knows very well how addicted you know he is to your clingyness.

Half and half, you win, you lose. He takes you with him to work and settles you with him in his office to help assist him with some of the work. At the promise you get to cuddle, cling and kiss him as much as you want to when the both of you are sitting alone and nobody is inside of the office.

For professionalism’s sake.

﹙ alessio 1311. ﹚. . . drag me onto the stage with you !! 🍒 :

“Mi corazón.” He protests lightly, though love is ever as evident in his voice. Feathery lashes tickle at your cheek when your boyfriend comes down to press kisses down against your jawline and neck, grinning at your little complaints.

“I gotta get on the stage in 30 minutes. . .” You look up at him with despair in your puppy eyed expression. His words make your heart stutter in excitement and sorrow at the same time.

You adore watching him perform his gigs, and you love watching having fun and sing his heart out but. . . It’s only 30 minutes. He could stay with you for 10 or 20 and have 10 to get on.

“But. . . amor,” you attempt, tightening your grasp on his arm, while your brows furrow in dismay. “Can’t you stay here for 10 or 15? Please?”

Oh who is he to deny your request when you need him so badly? He knows you’re not letting go until you’re ready to. So he might as well.

A little chuckle vibrates through his chest and against yours, while a large pair of hands wrap around your waist and pull you closer.

“Alright then, pretty boy. I’ll stay. Just for you.”

﹙ alessio 164. ﹚. . . making soup for the sorcerer grove !! 🍓 :

The smell of the basement full of herbs and rocks fills your senses.

Since you refuse to get off of your husband’s back, clinging onto him like you never have. What other option did the sorcerer god have to simply take you down into the cottage basement and continue his work?

Your puppy eyes tend to do the trick, and there’s no more discussing on the matter after such. You will be coming down there with him.

“What’s that book for?” You ask, tilting your head over his left shoulder.

“Medicinal remedies.”

“For?” His exhausted emerald gaze moves over to your curious eyes, almost answering the question for you before he does verbally.

“My sorcerers.”

You sigh and lean over him, hugging close once more, your face nuzzled into the corner of his neck where you can simply rest for a little as he brews his soup for the sickly in one of the groves.

Some had come into contact with a human that had been sick and were now also affected by it. Though they weren’t supposed to be.

“You’re making soup for your kids.” You tease.

“I shall gladly make some for you, if it makes you so jealous.” He chuckles, receiving a little tap on his elbow from the same clinging hands that immediately wrap around his chest again.

﹙ rasui 9948e. ﹚. . . i shall take you to work then !! 🍒 :

“Habibi!” You call out to him with a frown, your arms remain wrapped around his middle as he practically drags your body with him. Unbothered and making his way to the door step to get his coat.

“Habibi,” he counters, looking down at you with a slight eyebrow raise. “I must go work, you cannot stick to me like magma all day.”

You feel yourself get removed from his middle and lifted up to meet his eyes with your own.

“Oh don’t look at me like that.” He chuckles and tilts his head to the side. Yet your puppy eyed stare remain the same, staring into bright glowing eyes of flame.

“Stay hooome. . .” You beg, arms and legs trying to reach out to hug and cling onto your fire-elemental boyfriend once again.

“I cannot, darling. I have to go.”

“Then take me with.” You whine and press kisses all over his hands and face, giving him the extra special treatment of a few more soft noises and coos for him to let you come with and cling for the entire day if he so insists going to work.

At the end of the day you win, regardless of how many times he denies you that you won. Who takes you with him to work after enough begging, after all?

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Breeze 8

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You leave your dad as the doctor goes through some tests with him. You sit out in the hall and stare at the panted brick. It’s so bad. He looks so vacant. He recognises you but he didn’t even remember the cottage. It took him a while to pick out Andy and he just called him the new neighbour. 

Your chest feels constricted and your head pounds each time you catch yourself holding your breath. A gentle weight on your leg startles you. You didn’t even realise Andy was sitting right there with you. 

“You okay?” He asks. You’re getting tired of that question. You’re not. 

“Yeah, uh,” you shake your head and swallow, “I... should call the insurance. The nurse mentioned something about it.” 

“Sure, sure, well, we can go grab your phone and I already gave all your dad’s info at the desk. His wallet’s in the room.” 

“Okay, yeah, I... need all that.” 

You’re just moving through the motions. Those walls are maddening. It’s all you’ve seen for the last day, almost two. You’re going to go crazy from the noise of alarms and call bells and beeping and whirring and everything. 

When you have your dad’s wallet and your phone, you leave Andy. It’s as good an excuse to have some space as it is to actually do something useful. You sit outside on the curb and breathe in the open air. It doesn’t taste like sanitizer and latex. It’s refreshing but chilling. 

You dial out to the number on the back of your father’s insurance card and smooth out the first night’s invoice. You wait on hold, the droning music itchy in your ears. When at last an agent picks up, you answer their questions. 

“Mm, yes, I see here the hospital submitted the claim. The admitting paper work is here on file,” the agent says, “it says the patient had a blood alcohol content above the legal limit. Some sort of motorized vehicle accident?” 

“A jet-ski, yeah,” you answer, blinking as acid brews in your stomach. 

“Right, right, so reviewing everything, the details we got from the healthcare provider and yourself, the cost of the room will be covered up to sixty percent and any diagnostics and testing do not qualify for coverage.” 

“What?” You puff out, “that doesn’t make sense. He has insurance.” 

“His insurance doesn’t cover injuries sustained under the influence of intoxicating substances. It’s typical insurance policy. You can access the terms under his account number through our app. If you have an email, I would be happy to forward a copy--” 

“No, no, this can’t--” You press your palm to your forehead as panic swirls in your chest and chokes you, “how... how are we going to pay for all this?” 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, I wish I had an answer for that, but I can only speak on eligibility--” 

“I know,” you cut off sharply, “I know. I’m not—I'm sorry, I’m upset. Thank you. Thanks. I... have a good day.” 

You hang up and have to keep from throwing the phone. God, you always knew your dad’s drinking would get him hurt and now it’s going to bankrupt him. You nearly keel over at the thought of your tuition washing down the drain. It’s a selfish concern but you have three years behind you, you’re so close to the finish line. 

Who cares about a degree. You can’t lose your dad. You rub your eyes until they stop tingling and get up. You tamp down your distress and head inside. 

You approach your father’s room and find Andy waiting outside. He sits up as you near. He gives a tight-lipped expression, somewhere between a frown and a smile. You fold up the bill and and your dad’s wallet and clutch it against your phone. 

“Everything okay?” He asks. 

You’re so tired. You blow out between your lips. He’s done enough. He doesn’t need to worry about this. 

“Yeah, uh, yeah, just sitting on hold forever,” you grumble. “How’s dad?” 

“I think he’s doing alright. They said they need to do a bit more. Do some scans. X-rays, MRI, stuff like that. He’s going to be here for a while.” 

“Oh, I... makes sense,” your lips trembles and you make it stop. Each night is more money. You tuck the wallet and phone into your pocket. “I’m going to check on him.” 

“Okay, want me to come?” 

“No,” you say abruptly. “No, I just... want a moment.” 

“Sure, sweetheart, whatever you need.” 

You go inside the room and find your dad with his eyes closed. You stop beside his bead and stare. The large bandage around his head reminds you of the damage done. Damage that likely can’t be undone. 

“What’re you staring at?” He opens his eyes. 

You give a start and cough, “sorry, dad, I... I was checking on you.” 

“You look like crap,” he says in his blunt way. That makes you laugh. “Andy says you been chasing your tail all around.” 

“I... I’m worried.” 

“I hit my noggin, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, I’ll have you back in time for prom.” 

You shy away as if you’ve been slapped. You search his face. He’s not kidding. 

“Dad, I... I finished high school three years ago.” 

His face slackens and fear ripples over him, “three years?” 

You touch his arm, “it’s okay. The doctor said it will take you some time to get back to normal.” 

“Mmm,” he hums, “yeah, I don’t feel very normal.” 

You’re quiet. What can you say? You’re as scared as he looks. 

“You gotta go,” he says suddenly, “get some sleep.” 

“What? No, I’ll stay and sleep here.” 

“On the floor? Nah, don’t be dumb,” he looks towards the door. You follow his gaze and find Andy watching, “Andy, you take her and make her get some sleep. You can come back tomorrow, kiddo.” 

“But--” 

“Now don’t be stubborn. You get that from me,” he points at you but his hand is weak and shaky. “’sides, I’m tired.” 

“No problem, Doug,” Andy says as he breaks the threshold, “we all need to rest up, huh?” 

You look between them and hide your chagrin. You don’t appreciate Andy listening in like that. You’re sure he’s just concerned but his help is starting to turn suffocating. 

[sneakylilbartender]

Hehehehehehe heywood 👋👋👋🌱🌱🌱✨️✨️✨️ Is it okay for me to request Aventurine x chubby wife reader who is trying to lose weight, please?

I'm always a sucker for marriage content, and I haven't found much work in aventurine with a chubby reader 😭,

Omg okay queen I got u!!

Kakavasha x chubby!wife! Reader who wants to lose weight

A/n: Minors DNI, fem reader, established relationship, slightly comedic ending I guess?

T/w: Weight insecurity(?)

“If I had to bet every single one of my chips, that I’d find you in here once again, trying to lose all that sweet weight, oh I’d be a poor man by dusk.”

Kakavasha’s smooth, sly voice rang out from behind you, his equal-toned footsteps sounding until you could feel his presence behind you. Before you could even utter out a response or protestation at his statement, you felt his lean arms wrap around your soft, cushy waist, the dips of his elbows gently squeezing in to feel the plushiness of your waist.

“Kakavasha- I didn’t notice you before, how was work?” You could only ask politely, a means to at least try and divert the situation into a more positive light. At this, an ungloved hand reached towards the pudge of your tummy, giving it a slight squeeze and pinch, making you flinch ever so slightly, the coldness of his jaded, platinum ring rolling against your skin only serving to further enhance your sense of touch.

“Hmm.. oh it wasn’t too bad. You know what it’s like having to work alongside those stone-cold Stonehearts of mine. Crude remarks, rude glares, same old, same old. “

You internally sighed a breath of relief, having finally felt a weight upon your shoulders being lifted.

“But you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart. Why am I finding my darling wife eating things that look.. er.. far from appetizing?..” He asked, a tone of disgust and apprehension laced in his velvety voice, as you could sense his eyes on the strange food in front of you on the perfect marble kitchen counter. It was a steak, that looked quite dirty, and some very odd looking eggs, some mushed up avocado all served on a wooden cutting board. Kakavasha wouldn’t mind the appearance, as long as you liked it. But he knew you didn’t like food like this. Especially of such low quality.

“Oh, I was trying out something new! I’m not trying to lose any weight, I swear”

You turned around in Kakavasha’s grip, now facing him with your pretty face, trying to cover up the strange mess of a food behind you. Kakavasha took his other hand, adorned with many other rings, and took a small chunk of your chubby cheek, pinching it softly, a look of loving admiration in his face, before suddenly gripping the skin roughly, and shaking your head with the pad of his fingers.

“I know that’s not the truth, [Name]. You can’t fool me, these eyes see through everything and you know that well.” His voice was now devoid of that playful, but nonchalant tone, now replaced with a colder, slightly intensified one instead.

A hesitant, quiet sigh left your full lips as you averted his intense gaze with your eyes, which proved futile as he took two fingers under your chin and tilted your head back slightly, coaxing your eyes to look back into his otherworldly ones yet again.

“Look. You know I’ve been meaning to lose weight. And I know, I know, you aren’t supportive of that. But, Aven, please just understand that I can’t keep living like this..” Tears began to prickle at your eyes, bringing a hand up to wipe your tears away quickly.

“I-I just-“ Yet again, your response was cut short as you felt him bring your form into his embrace, squeezing at it gently, as if to keep it in his memory forever.

“Shh… just relax and keep quiet.” Kakavasha knew you’d only call him by that shortened version of that IPC alias, Aventurine, whenever you were upset, either at him or yourself. His hand could only tuck your now dampened face into the crook of his neck with his hand, before slowly combing it into the expanse of your soft locks of hair. His other arm was still around your gorgeous waist, but it slid down to one of your full, wide hips, cupping it with his palm. He then gently lowered your head, so your ear was pressed against that gap of his clothes, that lay right above his ever beating heart.

“Do you hear that?” He inquired softly, his tone now taking up a more demure and careful, more kind one.

“That’s how quickly my heart beats for you, angel. It once pumped blood as cold as a snake’s, as Lady Bonajade would say. But now it pumps blood as warm as the summer’s on Sigonia when I’m around you.” Hearing this, made your cries and sniffles die down a little, and at this, Kakavasha gently leaned down, to whisper sweet nothings into your ear to calm you down.

“I love you..” He brings your face back up, which was now redder and more puffy from your crying, and intimately crashes his lips against yours, pinning you to the kitchen counter.

Hopefully you were distracted enough to notice that your “cutting tray” of food was now in a better place, the trash.

[loving-daisy]

Drinks or Coffee? | Draco Malfoy x Reader

loving-daisy masterlist

Words: 9k

Summary: Y/N Greengrass was standing in the corner of a crowded place. 'This is boring', she thought. Until she heard his name, and now she’s staying for him.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Y/N Greengrass leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and eyes scanning the crowd. The voices around her blended into a dull hum, nothing worth her attention.

The event was dragging on forever, and she contemplated leaving early.

Today was the annual Black Summer All-White Party. Every year, the Black family would throw an all-white party during the summer, where all guests are required to wear nothing but white from head-to-toe, shying away from their usual color theme for every other pureblood gathering.

But then, amidst the buzz of conversations, she caught a familiar name just as she was catching up with Blaise Zabini.

“Well, I gotta go. I promised Draco I would meet him at the Malfoy Manor and come together.” 

“Draco?” 

Her heart skipped a beat.

Blaise gave her a smirk. “Surprised, Greengrass? But yes, he’s coming today.” 

Y/N Greengrass had always considered Draco Malfoy, her closest friend. 

Through thick and thin, they had been there for each other, quietly supporting one another when the weight of their worlds seemed too heavy to bear.

Their friendship had started when they were just children, each caught in the turmoil of their families’ expectations, their lives shaped by a rigid path they had little control over. Draco, the Malfoy heir, and Y/N, the middle child of the Greengrass sisters.

And through all of it, they had found refuge in one another.

Y/N hasn’t seen Draco in years.

In fact, she has not heard from him in years. 

But despite how time led for them to drift away, her interest was piqued, and suddenly, the dull event became something she wanted to stick around for.

“We’re just friends. It’s okay.” She mumbled, waving a quick goodbye to Blaise as he walked away.

Y/N's lips curled into a subtle smile; her mind focused entirely on the Malfoy heir. 

She wasn’t leaving. Not now.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Y/N and Draco’s playful rivalry wasn’t just the typical banter of two people who were constantly at odds—it was the dynamic of best friends who knew each other inside and out, and loved pushing each other’s buttons.

It wasn’t about winning or losing; it was about the fun of the challenge and the unspoken bond that held them together, no matter how much they teased one another.

At Hogwarts, their rivalry had been the talk of the school. From the moment they met, there was a spark between them, something that made it impossible for either of them to ignore the other.

They were always in the same circles, always fighting for attention, always daring the other to be the best. But at the end of the day, they were inseparable.

They would spend hours in the library, not really studying but throwing jabs and teasing one another about their differing methods—Draco with his sarcastic flair, and Y/N with her quiet but sharp wit.

One afternoon, Draco and Y/N found themselves on the Hogwarts grounds, sitting under a large oak tree as they watched the students practice for the upcoming Quidditch match. As usual, Draco had his broomstick beside him, looking like he owned the entire field.

“Seriously,” Y/N said, crossing her arms as she looked over at Draco. “Do you ever stop staring at that broom? It’s like you think it’s your only personality trait.”

Draco shot her a look, his lips curling into a smirk. “I’m just waiting for you to admit that I’m better than you, Greengrass.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Better at what, exactly? Looking ridiculous in front of everyone? You’ve got that covered.”

“Touché,” Draco said, laughing. “But admit it, you’re secretly impressed. I’m the best Seeker this school has ever seen.”

“Oh, I’m impressed,” Y/N replied sarcastically. “Just like I’m impressed every time you do something that requires minimal effort, and then act like you’ve invented the concept of skill.”

Draco grinned, leaning back against the tree, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I’m not going to pretend I don’t enjoy the attention. But let’s be real—you love how much I shine. It’s part of the charm.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “You really are insufferable, you know that?”

“And you’re just jealous because I’m better at everything,” he teased, giving her a pointed look.

“Better at everything?” she repeated, raising both eyebrows in mock disbelief. “I don’t think so. You may be the best at bragging, I’ll give you that.”

“Bragging is an art form,” Draco said, sitting up and brushing imaginary dust off his robes. “It’s about making people believe you’re the best, even when they know you’re not.”

Y/N laughed and nudged him with her elbow. “You really think that works on me, don’t you?”

Draco grinned, his eyes softening for a moment. “Maybe not. But it works on everyone else.”

Y/N paused for a second, her smile faltering slightly before she quickly masked it with a shrug. “I suppose it does. It’s always been your thing, hasn’t it? The charm, the confidence. I’m just happy you’ve got at least one thing going for you.”

Draco looked at her for a long moment, the playful glint in his eyes softening. “And what do you have going for you, huh?”

She shot him a look of mock indignation. “I have the brains, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, but no one cares about brains when they’ve got my charisma,” he teased.

“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes again. “Charisma doesn’t help when you’re constantly surrounded by people who don’t even know who you are underneath it all.”

Draco’s grin faded a little at the honesty in her words, and for a moment, the teasing banter was replaced with something more meaningful. “You think that’s true?” he asked quietly.

Y/N gave him a soft smile. “No one really sees the real you, Draco. But I do.”

His expression softened, his smirk vanishing as he met her gaze.

It was a rare moment between them, one where their playful rivalry melted into the truth of their bond. No matter how much they joked, how much they poked fun at each other, there was no doubt in either of their minds that they were best friends—always there for each other, always willing to call each other out, but never letting anything truly break their connection.

Draco looked away, breaking the moment with a laugh. “You know, you’re far too sentimental for your own good. You’d be better off just admitting I’m always right.”

Y/N smirked, leaning back against the tree. “Maybe you are right for once, but I’ll never admit it.”

Draco grinned, and they both settled into their usual comfortable silence, the easy camaraderie of best friends restored.

There was always more to their rivalry than just competition—it was the foundation of a friendship that had lasted through thick and thin, and neither of them could imagine life without it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Y/N found herself drifting back to the memories of their quiet conversations in the dimly lit hallways of Hogwarts, a place that had always felt like a refuge from the chaos that surrounded them. It was in those corridors, hidden away from prying eyes, that she had first found a comfort in Draco that no one else seemed able to offer.

Their conversations would often start with the usual banter—teasing each other about class, about their peers, about the ridiculous things their families would say. But as the hours passed, their talks would slip into something deeper, something more real.

One evening, she remembered particularly well, they had found an empty classroom after a particularly intense dinner with their families, each filled with pressure to maintain their bloodlines’ legacy, expectations hanging over their heads like heavy cloaks. 

Y/N had been tired of hearing the same old arguments at the dinner table. Draco, with his usual aloofness, had been the same, but when they found that quiet, empty space together, the air between them shifted.

“Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever get out of this, Draco,” Y/N had said quietly, her voice tinged with exhaustion. “Out of the constant need to live up to what they want from us.”

Draco, who usually preferred to keep his emotions under wraps, had leaned back against the wooden desk, his eyes slightly darker than usual. “I don’t think they’ll ever let us escape, Y/N,” he had replied, his voice heavy with an unspoken truth. “I mean, we’re supposed to be the heirs of this legacy, the ones who keep everything intact. It’s like we’re stuck in a never-ending cycle of pretending.”

Y/N nodded, her hands clenched in her lap. “It feels like we’re trapped, doesn’t it? As if everything we do, everything we say, has already been decided for us. It’s suffocating.”

For a moment, they had both sat there in silence, the weight of their shared reality hanging between them.

But then Draco, ever the one to find humor in even the darkest of situations, had broken the tension.

“You know,” he had said with a sly grin, “I think I’d be a far better Dark Lord than my father could ever dream of being. I’d have the best robes, for one. And an army of house-elves to clean up after me.”

Y/N had laughed, a deep, genuine laugh that had lifted the heaviness from her chest.

It was one of those rare moments when Draco’s humor—sharp and biting as it was—offered her a release from the crushing expectations they both faced.

“An army of house-elves, huh?” she had teased, wiping away the laugh that had escaped her. “Maybe you should start with that. No need for world domination when you’ve got all the laundry done for you.”

Draco had smirked, leaning in with a twinkle in his eye. “Hey, if I ever did decide to take over, I’d at least have my priorities straight. First things first, I’d need a custom-made broomstick. You know, to keep my status intact.”

“You and your broomstick obsession,” she had grinned back, shaking her head. “But you’re right, we all need something to hold on to. Even if it’s just the small stuff, like your ridiculous broomsticks and your even more ridiculous sense of humor.”

And in that moment, Y/N had realized how much Draco’s presence had become her anchor. He didn’t offer easy answers or comforting words, but he had a way of making her feel less alone in the chaos.

It wasn’t just the laughter, though that was a big part of it. It was the unspoken understanding between them—the way they both knew what it was like to feel overwhelmed by their family’s expectations, by the weight of their bloodlines. In those quiet conversations, they shared their frustrations, their fears, and sometimes, their dreams of a different life—one where they could be free from the constraints that defined them.

They never spoke about those dreams aloud, never acknowledged how badly they both longed for something more. Instead, they teased and joked, hiding their real emotions behind sarcasm and wit. But underneath the playful jabs, there was always that understanding.

Y/N could still remember the way Draco had looked at her that night, his eyes softened by a mix of affection and quiet sadness. He hadn’t said much, but in that moment, she had known that he, too, felt the weight of their shared history. 

It was then that she had realized how much she relied on him—how much they had become each other's anchor in a world that often felt too overwhelming to face alone.

It wasn’t perfect. 

There were moments of tension, times when their differences felt too vast to bridge. But those quiet, unspoken moments in the dimly lit hallways were where their friendship had truly taken root—where they learned that, despite everything, they could always find each other in the silence.

And that, in itself, was enough to keep them going, even when everything else felt out of their control.

And then there were the moments of silence, where simply sitting together, not speaking a word, was enough to understand what the other was feeling. They didn’t need to explain themselves; they never had to. They had an unspoken bond, a silent understanding that ran deeper than words.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

From the days of sneaking out to the restricted section of the library to late-night walks through the castle corridors, their bond had always been one of mutual understanding. 

They had seen each other at their best and their worst, and yet, through it all, they remained side by side, never once crossing the line between friends and something more. 

Or at least, that’s what Y/N had convinced herself.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about it. Over the years, there had been moments—tiny, fleeting moments—where she’d caught Draco looking at her a little too long or laughing a little too hard at her jokes. 

And there were those times when she’d catch herself thinking that maybe, just maybe, something more could come from their friendship. 

But each time she did, she’d push the thought away, reminding herself that what they had was special because it was just that: friendship.

They had both been shaped by their families, by expectations, by the heavy burden of living up to legacies. The idea of changing the dynamic between them felt almost like an impossible risk. They had been through so much, survived the pressure, the chaos, the fights, the misunderstandings. 

It felt safe, comforting, to stay in that space of mutual respect and camaraderie, where no one’s heart was on the line.

One evening during winter break, Y/N found herself in the gardens of the Malfoy Manor, having a picnic with Draco as they observed the stars that shone above them.

It was one of those rare moments where his parents weren’t home, and the house was quieter than usual. They’d both been a year older, a little wiser, but still, that spark between them remained—a friendship that couldn’t be broken by time or distance.

As they sat together in the drawing room, sharing stories about their new lives and the bizarre people they had met since leaving Hogwarts, there was a tension in the air, one that neither of them acknowledged out loud.

“You know,” Draco said, his voice a little quieter than usual, “I never thought I’d miss Hogwarts as much as I do. It was... simpler, I guess. Even with all the drama, it was still home.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze fixed on the fire crackling in the hearth. “Yeah, I get that. It was... a world of its own. Even with all the pressure, the rivalry, the constant ‘this is what you’re supposed to be’—it felt like we could escape from everything for a little while.”

Draco was silent for a moment, his eyes studying her, as if weighing something in his mind. “You know, you were always the one who kept me grounded,” he said, his tone more serious now. “When things got crazy, or I started getting caught up in all the nonsense with my family... you were the one who made sure I didn’t lose myself.”

Y/N looked up at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. “I didn’t know you thought of it that way,” she said softly.

He shrugged, his usual confident demeanor returning. “You always acted like you had it all together. Like you didn’t need anyone. But the truth is, you were always the one who understood.”

The room felt still, and for a moment, it was just the two of them—two people who had shared so much, yet still hadn’t fully understood each other’s unspoken thoughts. There was a moment’s hesitation before Draco spoke again, his voice lower than before.

“Do you ever wonder... what would happen if we weren’t just friends?”

The question hung in the air, and for a brief second, everything in the room felt suspended in time. 

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she could feel her breath catch in her throat. She had spent so long burying any thoughts of them being more than friends, not allowing herself to imagine what that could mean, what it could risk.

But now, faced with Draco’s vulnerability and the openness in his gaze, she couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread through her chest, the yearning that she had been suppressing for so long.

She knew she felt it, too—an unspoken connection, a closeness that went beyond anything she had ever shared with anyone else. But the fear of losing what they had kept her from crossing that line.

"I don't know, Draco," she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It feels like we've been through so much together that I can't imagine changing it. We’ve always been... this. Friends. It’s safe that way, isn’t it?"

Draco’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he nodded slowly, as if he understood. “Yeah. Safe,” he echoed, his voice a little quieter now. “But sometimes, safe feels... too comfortable. Like there’s something more we’re not seeing.”

Y/N felt her heart race, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything more. 

The silence between them was heavy, thick with unspoken feelings and words they both knew they couldn’t say. 

Not yet, anyway.

And so they sat in that silence, the weight of their past and their present hanging between them, knowing that what they shared was something rare, something worth protecting. 

But still, the question lingered: could they ever be more than friends? Or was it simply a risk neither of them could take?

In the end, neither of them had an answer, but they both knew one thing for certain: whatever happened, they would face it together—just as they always had.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Casual touches or near-misses between Y/N and Draco had become so frequent that they barely even noticed them anymore.

It wasn’t intentional—at least, they hadn’t meant for it to happen this way—but the simple, almost unconscious gestures had woven themselves into the rhythm of their interactions.

There were the times when Draco’s hand would rest lightly on her back, guiding her through a crowded room, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her clothes with a gentleness that spoke volumes. He never lingered, never pressed too hard, just a soft touch meant to direct her, to make sure she was beside him as they moved through the crowd.

But each time it happened, it left a small spark between them, like an unspoken promise in the air.

And then there were those near-misses. The times when they would both reach for the same object at once—a book on a shelf, a glass on the table, a quill in the ink pot—and their fingers would brush against each other in the briefest of moments. They’d glance at each other, and for a split second, the world around them would fade away, leaving just the feeling of skin touching skin, the sensation lingering like a soft pulse that neither of them was ready to acknowledge.

Neither of them said anything about it.

In fact, it was as though they both pretended it didn’t happen at all.

The unspoken rule between them was that they wouldn’t address these small gestures. After all, they were just that—small gestures. Nothing to make a fuss over, nothing to read into. It was just part of their dynamic, part of the comfortable, easy way they had always been together.

But the weight of those touches carried more than they realized.

One evening, after an intimate dinner at Draco’s family estate, they were walking through the darkened hallways together, the silence between them filled with the weight of the night’s conversation.

It had been a peaceful evening, with little of the tension that usually came when his parents were around. Still, Y/N could feel the familiar sense of pressure building in her chest, the constant expectations that never seemed to fade no matter how far they tried to distance themselves from it all.

As they passed an archway, Draco’s hand brushed the small of her back again, guiding her effortlessly through the narrow space. She felt it—his fingers just barely grazing the fabric of her dress, the lightness of the touch sending a ripple of warmth through her. It was so natural, so casual, that she almost didn’t think anything of it. Except this time, there was something different.

Her heart seemed to beat a little faster, and she couldn’t help but glance up at him.

Draco didn’t seem to notice, or at least, he didn’t acknowledge it. He just kept walking, his steps steady and confident. But Y/N couldn’t ignore the way his hand felt against her, how it lingered just a fraction longer than usual.

They didn’t speak as they walked. The only sound was the soft click of their footsteps on the stone floors, but even that felt like an echo in the quiet of the hallway.

Y/N’s mind raced, the near-miss of that touch replaying in her head over and over again.

When they reached the end of the hallway, Draco paused, turning to face her. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft, but the concern in his eyes was unmistakable.

She nodded, trying to push down the sudden flutter in her chest. “Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long day.”

Draco studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering longer than usual. 

Then, without saying another word, he gave her a small smile and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he reached out to adjust the collar of her coat, his fingers grazing the curve of her neck for a brief moment before he pulled his hand back.

It was another simple touch. Another casual gesture.

But Y/N could feel the weight of it.

She didn’t say anything, afraid that if she did, the moment would slip away. Instead, she smiled back at him, her heart still racing, and nodded. “Thanks.”

Draco smiled again, his usual smirk returning, and with that, they both turned and walked off into the night, side by side, neither of them acknowledging what had just passed between them.

But both of them knew, deep down, that something had shifted.

The weight of those small, casual touches had grown heavier, and the space between them had suddenly felt a little smaller. Neither of them was ready to address it—not yet—but it was there, lingering in the silence, in the unspoken moments. 

And neither of them could ignore it for much longer.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The halls of Hogwarts were as bustling as ever, with students rushing to and from, the sound of footsteps echoing against the stone walls. 

Y/N was walking briskly, lost in thought, her mind replaying the events of the day. She was so caught up in her own world that she barely noticed the small stone in her path until it was too late.

With a sharp gasp, her foot caught the edge of the stone, and her balance faltered. She was about to crash to the ground when, out of nowhere, a steady hand reached out to catch her arm. Y/N stumbled slightly but didn’t fall, and she looked up, surprised to see Draco standing beside her, his hand still hovering near her.

His reflexes had been fast, instinctual even, as he steadied her effortlessly. The brief contact sent a spark of awareness through her, but it was the look on Draco’s face that made her pause. 

His usual cool composure seemed to have faltered for just a moment, his eyes widening slightly as their fingers brushed together.

For a split second, the world seemed to slow down around them, the noise of the students fading into the background. They were both frozen in place, the tension hanging thick in the air. Neither of them moved, as if the casual touch had meant something more, something neither of them was ready to address.

Then, as quickly as it had happened, Draco pulled his hand back, his usual smirk returning to his face. Y/N straightened herself out, trying to play it off, though her heart was beating just a little faster than usual.

"Nice reflexes, Malfoy," she said with a sly smirk, her voice light and teasing, trying to break the tension.

Draco raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "I’ve always been quick on my feet," he replied smoothly, his voice laced with playful arrogance. "You should be more careful, Greengrass. One of these days, you’ll trip over your own ego."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was an unmistakable warmth in her chest at his words. She had to admit, it was nice to see him look out for her, even if he was too proud to admit it. "I’ll be fine," she shot back, brushing herself off nonchalantly. "You don’t need to babysit me."

Draco chuckled, stepping back and giving her a mock bow. "As if I would. Just trying to keep you from embarrassing yourself in front of the entire school."

"Ha, as if anyone could embarrass me," she replied with a smirk. "But I appreciate the offer, Malfoy."

They continued walking side by side, the brief moment of contact between them still lingering in the air. Neither of them mentioned it again, but the unspoken tension remained, a reminder of the thin line between friendship and something more. 

Their rivalry, their banter, was always the mask they wore to hide anything deeper, but in that split second, they both knew—just for a moment—that the mask was a little more fragile than they cared to admit.

But for now, they were content to continue the game, each pretending the moment hadn’t meant anything more than it appeared.

And yet, as they walked together down the familiar Hogwarts corridors, their steps almost in sync, the unspoken understanding between them grew just a little more complicated.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The hallway was filled with chatter as students gathered, most heading to their next class or lingering in small groups.

Y/N stood with Blaise, her laughter ringing out easily as they shared a joke, her hand casually resting on the top of her book. They spoke with an easy camaraderie that came from years of friendship, but to anyone watching, it might have looked like something more.

Blaise had always been charming in his own quiet way, and as he leaned in just a little too close to make a point, Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She tilted her head, replying with her usual quick wit, completely at ease in his company.

Across the room, Draco stood alone, leaning against the wall with a rigid posture that spoke volumes. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were locked on Y/N and Blaise, his gaze following every movement with an intensity that was almost too deliberate to ignore.

Draco wasn’t the type to show obvious signs of jealousy—he was far too composed for that. He’d never been the kind of person to let anyone see that sort of vulnerability, especially when it came to someone as important to him as Y/N.

But there was something in the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes narrowed just slightly when Blaise moved in closer to Y/N, that betrayed him.

For a brief moment, Draco felt something stir inside him—an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He tried to dismiss it, telling himself that it was nothing, that he had no reason to feel that way. After all, Y/N and Blaise were friends, just like he was. But the way Blaise stood there, so effortlessly close to her, made Draco feel something he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit.

His eyes flicked to Y/N, watching as she laughed at something Blaise had said, completely unaware of the way Draco was watching them. Her smile was radiant, lighting up her face, and for a moment, Draco felt a pang of something—something akin to possessiveness, though he would never admit that aloud.

He forced himself to look away, clearing his throat as he adjusted his posture, trying to regain the control he was known for. But the feeling lingered, gnawing at the edges of his mind.

Blaise’s hand brushed Y/N’s shoulder in a gesture that felt too familiar, too intimate, and Draco’s gaze flicked back to them almost instinctively. He clenched his fists, his fingers curling into the fabric of his robes, but his face remained unreadable.

Y/N caught his eye from across the room, sensing something was off. She tilted her head slightly, a silent question in her gaze. Draco quickly masked his expression with a smirk, pushing the feeling deep down as he casually straightened up.

“Is something wrong, Malfoy?” Blaise’s voice cut through his thoughts, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Draco didn’t miss a beat. “Nothing,” he replied smoothly, his voice cool, betraying no emotion. “Just making sure you’re not getting too comfortable, Zabini.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, not quite buying the casualness in Draco’s tone, but he said nothing. He returned his attention to Y/N, who shot Draco a playful look, clearly noticing his shift in demeanor.

As Blaise bid his farewell, Y/N turned to look at the Malfoy heir who seemed to be seething from his smirk.

“You’re acting strange today,” Y/N remarked, arching an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “Something on your mind, Malfoy?”

Draco, his arms crossed, stares at Blaise’s retrieving figure, visibly annoyed. “Are you trying to make me jealous?” he asks.

The girl raises an eyebrow, grinning as she shows clearly how she’s enjoying the boy’s discomfort. “Is it working?”

“I don’t get jealous,” Draco retorts, though the slight twitch of his lips betrays him.

It wasn’t jealousy, he told himself. But deep down, he knew better than to believe that.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The tension between Draco and Y/N had been building for days, an almost palpable weight hanging between them. It wasn’t just the usual banter or playful rivalry anymore. 

There was something more, something unspoken that neither of them could seem to shake off.

Draco had been distant, keeping to himself more than usual, his usual teasing remarks replaced by cool detachment. 

Y/N, in turn, had grown unusually cold, her sharp wit and warm smile absent when they were in the same room.

The easy camaraderie that once defined their interactions had all but vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable silence that neither was brave enough to break.

It wasn’t until they found themselves alone in a quiet corner of the castle, away from prying eyes, that the walls they had carefully constructed around themselves finally began to crumble.

Draco stood by the window, his posture rigid, his gaze lost in the distance. 

“You’re marrying Nott, I see,” Draco said, his voice unusually calm, but there was an edge to it that betrayed his thoughts. 

He didn’t turn to look at her, but Y/N could feel his eyes on her, even without seeing them.

Y/N didn’t flinch. She had known this day would come eventually, but hearing it spoken out loud still sent a pang through her chest. 

She crossed her arms, her gaze focused on the floor, as if avoiding his eyes would make the reality of it all easier to swallow.

“And you’re betrothed to the youngest Greengrass,” she replied coolly, her words laced with a sharpness that mirrored his own. There was no anger in her voice, no bitterness. Just the truth, as blunt and final as the stone walls surrounding them.

For a moment, the air between them hung thick with unresolved feelings. The words they had both avoided, the unspoken truths they had kept locked away for so long, were finally out in the open. Yet, neither of them moved, neither of them spoke again for what felt like an eternity.

Draco exhaled slowly, his eyes finally flicking toward her. There was something in his gaze—something vulnerable, something raw—that made her chest tighten. “You know, I never expected it to be like this,” he said quietly, his usual bravado replaced by something softer, more uncertain.

Y/N looked up then, meeting his eyes for the first time since the tension had settled between them. She could see it in his face—something she hadn’t expected: regret. She wasn’t sure if it was for the betrothal, for the way they had drifted apart, or something else entirely, but it was there, in the flicker of his gaze.

“I didn’t expect it either,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But we don’t always get what we expect, do we?”

Draco’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“No,” he agreed softly. “We don’t.”

Y/N stepped a little closer, though the distance between them still felt immense, despite being in the same room. 

“So, what now?” she asked, her voice steady but with a hint of something uncertain. “Do we just go on like this? Pretend we don’t know what’s been between us all this time?”

Draco’s eyes darkened, a flicker of emotion passing through them that he quickly masked.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N? That I wish things were different?” His voice was low, almost bitter, but there was an underlying pain in his words that he couldn’t quite hide.

But Draco did wish that things were different.

The Greengrass that Draco wanted to marry was Y/N Greengrass. Not her younger sister.

He couldn’t understand why their parents betrothed him to Astoria and not Y/N.

He always had the impression that he would end up with Y/N. 

The silence stretched again, but this time, it wasn’t comfortable. It was heavy, charged with the weight of years of friendship, rivalry, and everything that had come with it.

“Well, I’d say congratulations, Greengrass. Theo’s a decent bloke—quiet, but smart. Better than some options, wouldn’t you agree?” Draco said, his voice barely audible.

Her throat tightened, and she struggled to find the words, her mind swirling with confusion. “Oh, don’t act so smug. You’re no better off. You’re betrothed to Astoria, my younger sister.”

Draco groaned. “Don’t remind me. She’s sweet, but she’s... well, she’s still practically a child.”

Y/N displayed a small smile. “She’s only two years younger than you, Draco.”

The boy shook his head. “That’s not the point. I’m not ready for all this. Marriage, responsibility—it’s too soon.”

“Don’t you ever wonder if it’s worth it? Sacrificing happiness for duty?” 

“I do. More than I’d like to admit. But what choice do we have?”

Draco walks over to her without saying another word, and the atmosphere between them suddenly shifts. The usual banter feels irrelevant. 

Y/N reaches out, her hand brushing his. Neither of them says anything, but their unspoken understanding is enough. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Y/N Greengrass stood at the edge of the crowded room, feeling the weight of her boredom settle in. She had been to enough events like this to know that they all blended into one—people chatting aimlessly, the hum of idle conversation, and the clink of glasses.

Y/N shifted through the crowd; her curiosity piqued as she heard the people welcoming the Malfoy heir. 

She wasn't leaving now, not when the possibility of seeing Draco again hung in the air. 

The memories of their shared moments at Hogwarts rushed back—those secret meetings, the quiet conversations that had carried weight even when the world outside seemed intent on pulling them apart.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she stayed, watching for the figure of Draco Malfoy to appear. 

She didn’t know what she expected, but she knew she was staying for him.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The grand ballroom was a sea of glittering lights and laughter, filled with elegantly dressed witches and wizards. The music floated through the air, setting the mood for the evening, though Y/N hardly noticed. She moved through the crowd with practiced ease, her polite smile in place, her attention scattered as she greeted acquaintances and exchanged pleasantries.

But no matter how much she tried to immerse herself in the party, her thoughts kept drifting to him.

She had told herself she was over it, over him, over the impossible longing that lingered every time she thought of him.

But she couldn’t. 

And yet, as her eyes scanned the room, searching almost unconsciously, she felt it—the moment their paths crossed again.

Draco stood near the edge of the room, his silver-blond hair catching the soft glow of the chandelier above. He looked as composed as ever, his sharp features set in that familiar expression of cool indifference.

But Y/N knew him too well to be fooled by his exterior. There was a tension in the way he held his glass of firewhisky, the way his eyes darted subtly across the room, as if searching for something—or someone.

Their eyes met, and time seemed to stop. The noise of the party faded into the background, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of them, standing on opposite sides of the room.

Draco’s posture stiffened slightly, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place.

Y/N took a deep breath, forcing herself to move. Her feet carried her toward him before she could second-guess herself, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know what she was going to say or what she expected to happen, but the pull between them was undeniable.

“Malfoy,” she said when she finally reached him, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

“Greengrass,” he replied smoothly, his tone cool and detached.

But his eyes—those piercing grey eyes—were anything but indifferent.

“It’s been a while,” she said, folding her arms in front of her, her voice lighter than she felt.

“Has it?” Draco asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I hadn’t noticed.”

She rolled her eyes, a small smile breaking through despite herself. “Of course, you haven’t. Too busy brooding, I’m sure.”

Draco’s smirk grew wider, but there was a softness to it that made her heart ache. “Brooding? Me? Never.”

The playful banter felt like slipping into a familiar rhythm, a brief reprieve from the weight of everything unsaid. But the tension between them remained, humming just beneath the surface.

“An auror, huh?” Y/N said, tilting her head slightly, her lips curving into a sly smile.

Draco leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make her heart skip a beat. “And you, a healer. Who would’ve thought.” 

The girl grinned. “I better not see you at work, Draco. I don’t want to see a single scratch on you.” 

The boy smirked. “But what if I want you to take care of me?” 

Y/N laughed as she shook her head at the boy’s words. 

“So,” Draco’s voice cut through her laughter, smooth and controlled as always. “How’s Theodore Nott these days?”

The girl furrowed her brows at the inquiry. “How am I supposed to know?” 

“Aren’t you getting married?” he asked, his tone casual but edged with something she couldn’t quite place.

She turned her head to look at him, her expression calm but guarded. “No.”

Draco blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of her response. “You aren’t?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he stepped closer.

“No,” she repeated, her voice steady but soft. “We called it off a couple of months ago. Haven’t you heard from Astoria? Theodore is in love with my older sister, Daphne. They are to be wed next year.”

He stood there for a moment, processing her words, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his face before he masked it with his usual cool demeanor. 

“Well,” he said slowly, his tone carefully neutral, “I could ask you the same thing, Greengrass. Haven’t you heard from your youngest sister? Astoria called the wedding off a few days ago. She fell in love with a Quidditch player.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across her face.

“You’re not marrying her?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

He shook his head, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting hers again. “Astoria and I… it wasn’t right. We both knew it.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of their words settling between them. The cool night air seemed to carry away the noise of the party, leaving only the sound of their breathing and the unspoken truths lingering in the space between them.

“So,” Y/N said finally, her voice barely audible, “here we are. Both unpromised.”

“Here we are,” Draco echoed, his tone soft, almost wistful.

She studied him for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. “And what now?” she asked, her voice trembling just slightly.

Draco stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. “That depends,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that made her chest tighten. “Do you think it’s too late for us?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words. 

But then she shook her head, a small, tentative smile breaking through the tension. “I don’t think it’s ever too late, Malfoy.”

“I’m happy that you’re here tonight,” Draco said, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. She searched his face for a moment, as if trying to determine if he was being genuine or teasing her. But the way he looked at her—steady, unguarded—left no doubt.

A small smile tugged at her lips. “That’s a rare thing to hear from you, Malfoy,” she said lightly, though her heart betrayed her with a flutter.

Draco smirked, but it lacked his usual sharpness. “Don’t get used to it,” he quipped, though his voice was warm. He looked down briefly, almost as if gathering his thoughts, before meeting her gaze again. “It’s been… different, without you.”

Her smile faltered slightly, the weight of his words settling in her chest. “Different good or different bad?” she asked, tilting her head, her tone laced with curiosity.

“Just different,” Draco said, his voice quieter now. “Empty, maybe. Less… tolerable.”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Less tolerable? High praise, coming from you.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. “You know what I mean.”

She did. She always did.

And yet, hearing him say it—hearing him admit, even in his roundabout way, that he’d missed her—sent a warmth spreading through her that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Well,” she said after a pause, her voice softer, “I’m happy I came tonight too. Even if the company is a bit insufferable.”

Draco laughed, a rare, genuine sound that made her heart ache in the best way. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he said, shaking his head.

“So are you,” she shot back, her smile widening.

For a moment, they stood there, the playful banter fading into a comfortable silence. The tension that had hung between them for so long seemed to dissipate, replaced by something calmer, something that felt a lot like hope.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The room seemed to shrink, the hum of conversations and clinking glasses fading into the background. Y/N stood in front of Draco, her head tilted slightly as she spoke, her words flowing effortlessly. He should have been paying attention—he really should have—but instead, he found himself utterly distracted.

He stared, unable to stop himself.

The way her eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and warmth as she recounted a story. The way her lips curved when she smiled, a smile that always seemed to carry a secret only she knew. Her hands moved as she spoke, animated and graceful, and Draco couldn’t help but think how natural it all felt—how natural she felt.

“What?” Y/N’s voice pulled him back to the moment, her brows lifting in mild amusement. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/N asks. 

He blinked, realizing he’d been caught. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture, willing himself to focus.

With a raised brow, he replied, “Just wondering how you manage to make everyone else in the room look so dull by comparison.” 

She smirked, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Still a flirt that you are, Malfoy.”

Draco chuckled, shaking his head. “Only to you.” 

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

Draco’s smirk softened into something more genuine as he watched her. He hesitated for a beat, then took a step closer, lowering his voice slightly. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Tomorrow?” she echoed. “Why?”

Draco shifted, suddenly feeling a flicker of nerves he wasn’t used to. “Because I thought we could get drinks. Or coffee. You know, catch up properly. Away from… all this.” He gestured vaguely to the room around them.

Y/N’s eyebrows lifted in mild surprise, but her smile grew. “Are you asking me out, Malfoy?”

Draco’s lips twitched into a smirk, though there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “Would it be so terrible if I was?”

She pretended to consider it, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… I suppose not. As long as you don’t monopolize the conversation with quidditch stats.”

He rolled his eyes, the smirk turning playful. “Deal. So? Drinks or coffee?”

“Coffee,” Y/N said after a moment, her smile warm. “You’re more tolerable when you’re not a few firewhiskies in.”

Draco chuckled, nodding. “Fair enough. Coffee it is.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a sleek card and jotting something on the back with a flick of his wand. Handing it to her, he met her gaze. “Meet me at this café. Noon?”

Y/N glanced at the card, her heart giving an unexpected flutter. She tucked it into her clutch and looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “I’ll be there.”

Draco smiled, a real, unguarded smile that made something in her chest tighten. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The small café Draco had chosen was nestled on a quiet cobblestone street, its charm understated yet inviting.

Y/N arrived a few minutes early, the soft chime of the doorbell announcing her presence. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the sound of gentle conversation and the occasional clink of cups.

She spotted Draco near a window, already seated. He wasn’t dressed in his usual immaculate robes but instead wore a simple, tailored shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearms. It was a casual look that somehow made him even more disarming.

His grey eyes lifted from the menu as she approached, and for a brief moment, he seemed to forget himself, caught up in simply watching her.

“You’re early,” she teased, sliding into the seat across from him.

“You’re late,” he countered with a smirk, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if suppressing a real smile. “By exactly thirty seconds.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, setting her bag down. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” Draco quipped, signaling to the server. He glanced at her. “What’s your poison? Cappuccino? Latte?”

“Flat white,” she replied, studying him. “And you?”

“Black coffee,” he said simply, placing their order before turning his full attention back to her. “I like my coffee strong.”

“Of course, you do,” Y/N said, her tone teasing. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from the great Draco Malfoy.”

He chuckled, leaning back slightly. “And here I thought we were starting fresh. You’re already resorting to sarcasm.”

“Old habits die screaming” she said with a grin.

Their drinks arrived quickly, and for a while, they simply sipped and talked. It was surprisingly easy, their conversation flowing effortlessly between reminiscing about Hogwarts and discussing their current lives. Draco found himself relaxing more than he’d anticipated, the usual guardedness he wore slipping away under her warm gaze and quick wit.

“So,” Y/N said, setting her cup down after a particularly animated story from Draco about a disastrous attempt at cooking. “Why this café? It’s nice, but it doesn’t exactly scream Malfoy.”

Draco shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I like the quiet. And it has the best coffee in London. Thought you’d appreciate it.”

She raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’ve been thinking about what I’d appreciate?”

“Don’t read into it,” he said, though the slight flush in his cheeks betrayed him. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t regret saying yes.”

Y/N leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “And here I thought you were only tolerable after coffee,” she teased softly. “Turns out, you’re not so bad.”

Draco smirked, but there was a warmth in his eyes that softened the expression. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, his voice low.

They fell into another easy silence, the world outside the café fading away. For the first time in a long while, it felt as though they weren’t just catching up—they were finding each other again, piece by piece.

Y/N stirred her coffee absentmindedly, her mind wandering, when she felt a brush of air by her ear. 

She turned instinctively to see Draco leaning a little closer than usual, his eyes watching her with a look she couldn’t quite place.

“What?” she asked, half-laughing, a bit self-conscious. She was certain he’d noticed her sudden tension, but he only raised an eyebrow.

“You’re distracted,” Draco remarked lightly, though there was something different in his tone. “You always get like this when something’s on your mind.”

The girl smiled, shaking her head slightly. “Just thinking about work. Nothing important.”

Draco leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, but his gaze never left her. “You’re a terrible liar, Greengrass.” His lips curled into a smirk, but there was something warmer in his expression than she was used to seeing.

She chuckled, trying to dismiss the tension she felt. “And you’re a terrible observer,” she replied, though the words came out a little quieter than intended.

Their eyes locked for a moment, and she felt her heart beat just a little faster.

Then, without warning, Draco reached forward, his hand brushing a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. The simple action sent a jolt through Y/N’s entire body.

She froze, her pulse spiking at the closeness of him. His fingers lingered for a second too long, his touch almost tender, as if he was savoring the moment.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and she instinctively pulled back slightly, though she wasn’t sure why. 

He noticed. The corner of his mouth quirked up, but his eyes had an edge of uncertainty now. “You okay?” Draco asked, his voice softer than usual, almost careful.

Y/N swallowed, trying to find her voice again. “Yeah, just… surprised.”

Draco’s brow furrowed, and he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “Surprised at what?”

She was staring at him now, searching his eyes for the familiar Draco Malfoy she’d always known. But there was something new there, something she didn’t want to acknowledge yet. Something that made her want to close the distance, even if it terrified her.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’m feeling right now.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The table between them suddenly felt too small, the distance too vast, though they were physically closer than ever. Y/N’s eyes flicked to Draco’s lips, then back to his eyes, her chest tightening.

Draco leaned in further, his gaze intense but searching. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice hushed as though they were sharing a secret. “About this… about us.”

The girl blinked, her heart racing. She felt as though time had stopped. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

He saw her hesitation and let out a small sigh. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, Y/N,” Draco continued, his voice steady despite the vulnerability that now hung in the air. “And I think it’s time I stopped pretending I don’t.”

Before the girl could respond, Draco’s hand moved to touch hers across the table gently. It was slow and deliberate, and the sensation felt electric when his fingers brushed against hers.

“I think I’ve always known,” Draco whispered, his gaze never leaving hers. “And I’m pretty sure you have too.”

The girl’s breath hitched in her throat. Her pulse hammered in her ears. Was this really happening?

And before she could stop herself, before the rational side of her brain could catch up, she leaned forward, her lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss.

The moment their lips met, the world outside the café disappeared. There was no more pretending, no more uncertainty. Everything she’d been holding back rushed forward, and she couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, the years of friendship between them now giving way to something more profound, more raw.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless and wide-eyed, Draco smirked, his eyes still locked on hers.

“I think I made a pretty good decision,” he murmured, his voice teasing but with a hint of seriousness beneath it.

Y/N laughed softly, her heart still racing. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that.”

Draco’s smile softened, and for once, he didn’t seem like the cocky, arrogant Draco Malfoy she’d known for so many years.

At this moment, he was just… Draco.

And he was hers.

[skellseerwriting]

Bleeding Flowers Part 1

Soulmate!Hook x GN!Reader

Flower scars soulmate AU

Premise: When your skin gets marred, tattoo-like red flowers appear on your soulmate’s skin. As the wound heals, the adjacent flowers fade to an inky black color

Word Count: 2k

Content & Warnings: Fairly angsty ending, Hook bullies Bridget, Hook implies that Bridget needs to lose weight, Hook threatens reader, Hook doesn’t respect reader’s personal space, Hook (accidentally) hurts reader, The warning in this fic is basically just Hook lol

Summary: After telling Bridget and Ella why you wear gloves, you go to the courtyard and get confronted by Hook; who is more than willing to be cruel to you and your friends

“What are the gloves for?” Ella asked you. “You don’t have to answer.”

Looking up at your friend, you looked down at the things in question. Black gloves concealed both of your hands. You’d only known Ella a few days since school started, so it was nice -and a bit surprising- that she hadn’t asked about them until now.

“I uh…” you began, never sure how to answer that question. The truth was a sensitive thing to give, but lies were just as difficult.

“Do you have scars?” Bridget (your other friend) questioned.

“Don’t assume that.” Ella politely chastised. “The gloves could be for any reason, and it could be personal.”

“No, it’s okay.” You told her. Both her and Bridget had been polite enough to not bring it up when you met, so you were more comfortable now with satisfying their curiosity. “I don’t have scars. It’s the opposite, actually.”

“Your soulmate has scars.” Ella declared for you.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t understand why some people don’t like how they look though.” Bridget said lightly, not meaning any disrespect. “Flowers are beautiful. If mine were in more visible places I wouldn’t mind showing them off.”

Wincing, you held your tongue over your personal reasons.

“I just- I just don’t like mine, okay? They look different from most.”

Nodding, Bridget said: “Of course! I understand. I’m just used to the customs back home, where it’s normal to flaunt your flowers and scars; makes it easier to find your soulmate too.”

You did want to find your soulmate. However, you knew that you’d know without a doubt once you saw the person fated for you. It would be unmistakable.

Later that night, you headed to the restroom to clear your head a little.

Sighing, you pulled off your right-hand glove and splashed some water on your face. Then, you let your sights focus on your left hand; The reason for the gloves. With tentative fingers, you slowly pulled the black fabric off, and looked at the reason for your insecurity.

It was red.

Your whole left hand from fingertip to wrist was absolutely covered in blood red flower markings. It almost looked like you dipped your hand in a bucket of blood and had floral patterns etched into the matte color. Only the small ring around your wrist that connected to the rest of your skin had faded to a black color. It signified where the scarring was on your soulmate.

Red flowers mean wounds. Black flowers mean scars. Anything in between is during the healing process. There’s only two reasons for them to stay red, and they both stem from the same thing; the wound couldn’t heal.

If someone dies with an injury, then that injury will forever stay as a red mark on their soulmate. However, you’ve gotten new, tiny flowers that have turned black since the time your hand turned such a vibrant color, so your soulmate was very much alive.

That just left one thing.

Your soulmate lost their hand.

Losing a limb or piece of yourself is an injury that can never fully heal (minus the area that scars over), so the flowers on your soulmate will forever stay that bright scarlet color.

You had no such issue with this, of course. It’s just that you’ve learned the hard way that people react weirdly when they see your hand. So, you’ve just went with the easy route of covering it up.

You don’t have any defining scars on your person, so it’s up to you to recognize your soulmate when you see them for the first time.

You will find them; without a doubt.

Sitting at a picnic table in the courtyard with Bridget and Ella, all three of you ate lunch and chatted about your interests.

“Careful.” Ella warned you both. “Villainous Kids are here.”

Lo and behold, they were.

A dozen or so teenagers arrived into the space; dressed rather alternatively compared to the rest of the preppy kids at Merlin Academy.

You shifted your gaze away. They were trouble, all of them, so you found the safest option was to not engage; not even look at them. You didn’t even know most of their names (let alone attach those names to a face). The less you knew about them the better.

School started a few days ago, but that group has been making trouble since day one, and definitely makes sure that everybody knows to be afraid of them. Unfortunately for Bridget, they’ve already made a target out of her. You’ve managed to steer clear so far, however.

“That one’s the meanest?” Ella said in surprise at something Bridget was saying. “I think Uliana’s worse.”

“Yeah,” Bridget shrugged, smiling sweetly. “She is the loudest, but it’s mostly empty threats. She just gets irritated by positivity. Hook’s actually threatened to hurt me.”

“Excuse me?” Ella sounded offended at those last words. She started standing up “I’m going to-“

“No, no.” Bridget pulled her down. “Don’t, it’s fine. He’s not even looking at me right now. Don’t worry about it.”

Ella seemed peeved, but listened. Meanwhile, your curiosity that you tried to hold down kept growing.

“Which one’s Hook?” You asked, finally daring to look around at the large group that was hissing, snapping, and… barking? at a gaggle of students.

“The one with the red coat.” Ella grumbled, arms crossed.

“It’s actually maroon!” Bridget corrected cheerfully, but you barely heard her as you focused on the person that was apparently the meanest student in school.

He had lustrous brown hair that accompanied his “maroon” coat, a half-done button up, and black accents on the end of his sleeves. Your eyes trailed down from the sleeves.

You froze.

You strained your eyes harder to make sure they weren’t playing tricks on you.

Right there, where a left hand should be, was a shiny metal hook in its place.

No. Oh please no.

“…What’s wrong?” One of your friend’s voices broke through your sudden daze. You forcefully creaked your head back around to them.

Do you tell them?

“I think-“ you swallowed your suddenly dry throat, then lowered your volume. “I think he’s my soulmate.”

Both of their jaws dropped.

“No.” Bridget gasped.

“Hook?” Ella gaped.

You weakly nodded your head.

“But your hand…” Ella trailed off. You lowered your gaze.

“The flowers are red.” You whispered just above a breath. It was a lot to take in. You just wished it could be under better circumstances.

“Oh no.”

“What is it?” You looked up at Bridget, worry filling you at her tone.

“It’s Hook,” she looked pale with horror. “He’s walking over here.”

It took all your willpower to not turn around and look behind you.

“What do I do?” You desperately asked, fear spiking through you.

“Just stay still and let us talk to him.” Ella hissed under her breath.

A few moments later, you felt a presence loom behind you. You hoped the slight shaking of your hands weren’t too visible as you took another bite of your sandwich. Maybe you should just not move to avoid drawing attention to yourself.

“Well, well, well.” A suave voice in an English accent said tauntingly. It caused goosebumps to run down your neck. “Look what we have here; Princess and Patches.”

“What do you want Hook?” Ella spat, looking like she was ready to throw her sandwich at him. You knew without a doubt she would. Still, the fact that you were closer to him than you were to your friends made you feel like a cornered animal. Hook seemed to step closer; almost like he didn’t even notice you were there. Your muscles went rigid nonetheless.

“Just wanted to remind you both that you don’t get any peace during your lunch.” He said, accent doing numbers on your ears. After hearing some shoes shuffling, he seemed to begin to turn around. “Oh, and Cupcake.” Hook called out to Bridget with a laugh. “Might want to start skimming the frosting off those treats you’re eating.”

Bridget gasped in shock. Anger coursed through you.

“Don’t you dare speak to her that way.” You stood up, turning around to face him. Hook looked at you, amused, with a wide smirk on his face. Then, he walked forward and invaded your space; looking you up and down and taking you in like an animal to be hunted. You couldn’t keep the shiver from running through you.

Maybe you should have just kept your mouth shut.

“And just who are you?” He inquired in a tone that seemed just a little too cheerful and a little too flirtatious, as if he never noticed you before.

“Nobody important.” You said a little more meekly, wishing you could just disappear already under his predatory gaze. What you said what technically a lie, however. At least depending on Hook’s point of view.

After taking in your appearance, his eye caught on your hand.

Oh no.

Without so much as a question, Hook grabbed your left wrist and yanked it up to eye level; looking at it with confusion and a type of curiosity filling his eyes. The action left you motionless despite your brain screaming at you to stop him. To pull away.

With a slowness that surprised you, he stuck the sharp end of his hook onto the tip of your gloved finger, before slowly pulling it off your hand. Then, your senses returned to you.

You slapped him; hard.

In an instant, his attitude switched up and he had that sharp piece of metal pointed against the curve of your cheek. His breath fanned your face, and it was hot with anger that seared like the blooming red handprint on his face.

“Wrong move.” He breathed, and you had never felt more threatened.

And then a blonde boy bumped into him.

Hook jerked forward.

His metal hook sliced along your cheek; growing a deep gash that stung like a hot knife.

Tears stung your eyes at the pain and you pushed him away. Bridget and Ella started saying things but you could neither hear them nor know who they were directed at, but they followed you nonetheless as you sprinted to the nurse’s office.

How did I end up with him as a soulmate? You anguished.

Lightly prodding a finger at his cheek, Hook hissed at the feeling. How dare you touch him like that.

He almost went running after you to torment you and get revenge, but Morgie grabbed him by the arm.

“Sorry for bumping into you man.”

Hook shrugged him off. “It’s no issue, but now I might get punished for an injury I didn’t even cause.” He said bitterly.

“Well you did have it right up against the skin…” Morgie said, moving both hands to Hook’s shoulders. “But if you-“

“Forget it.” Hook pulled away from his touch. Then, he dusted his coat down with his arm. “I don’t care if-“

“Uhh… you should see your face mate.” Morgie interrupted, now staring at his best friend. Hook glared at him fiercely.

“Yes I know I got slapped-“

“No not that.” Morgie shook his head quickly. “You uh… Uli do you have a mirror?” That last part was more of a squeak.

“And what do you need it for?” Uliana inquired, walking over with grace and dignity. She held a small makeup mirror poised in one manicured hand. Morgie didn’t even wait to answer her question before yanking it out of her grip. “Hey!”

He lunged it towards Hook and into his hand.

Giving him a weird look, Hook took it and raised it to the cheek that was just slapped. It was red, but one particular spot was-

He dropped the mirror.

It hit the ground with a crack.

The only way to describe his face was “mortified”.

“James, you okay?” Morgie asked wearily.

Hook finally focused on him; horror covering all of his features. If Morgie didn’t know better, he’d say it looked just like regret.

“I’ve just hurt my soulmate.”

Part 2

Taglist: For James Hook

@lesbpotmurdocklokistan @little-teacupss @mushroomdemon9 @leoisbabygirl

@brokenmilkcrates @eretsupremacy89 @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @elltheawkward

@sessa23

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 protector: chapter four

synopsis: " you were supposed to stay a crewate, just another back to watch, " he tightened his hold, " i didn't even notice the change until i woke up one day and realized i'd take a bullet for you "

cw: violence, gore, fighting, mature themes, profanity, MAJOR/MINOR ANIME SPOILERS, follows the plot of the anime, slowww burn.

a/n: reposting from another account

The explosion decimated Buggy's ship and currently, you and Zoro were trying to carry Luffy, still in his cage, away, so you both could find something to get him free.

"You okay, Zoro? How bad are you injured?" Luffy asked.

"Just shut up and don't worry about what I'm doing. I need to concentrate if I'm gonna get us outta this," the man strained, trying to take most of the weight of the cage.

"You should let me patch you up. That wound is bad and you're losing a lot of blood," you stated seriously, tone laced with concern.

Something about seeing him hurt made you feel weird pain in your chest.

"We don't have time for that. We gotta find a way to get Luffy out of this cage and get the hell out of here," he dismissed.

Just then, the redhead girl walked over to you, a confused look on her face.

"I don't get it. Who are you guys?" she asked.

"Hey, Luffy? Who's this? Who's the girl?" Zoro asked.

"Oh, right. She's our new navigator," Luffy answered.

A squirt of blood suddenly shot from Zoro's wound and he groaned in pain.

"That's it," you said flatly, taking all the weight of the cage and throwing him on top of it, making your wings carry it down the steps.

"H-How are you carrying it?" Zoro strained, holding his side.

"My wings are really strong," you grunted as you slowly made your descent, eventually making it to the bottom.

Once you did, you put down the cage and started dragging it instead.

You dragged it about six feet before stopping, catching your breath and furling your wings.

You grabbed Zoro off the top of the cage and put him down on the ground, sitting next to him.

"Take off your haramaki. And your shirt, too," you ordered, grabbing some bandages.

"Huh?!" he exclaimed, blush rising to his cheeks.

You lit up as you realized what you said.

"Get your mind out the gutter! I'm trying to cover that wound before it bleeds anymore!" you exclaimed, embarrassed.

He grumbled something under his breath before he took off his haramaki and his shirt, leaving his chest exposed.

It took everything in you not to gawk.

He wasn't bulky with muscle because of his lean figure, but he was toned. And the faded scars only added to it.

You wrapped up his wound as quick as you could before you embarrassed yourself, then helped him put his shirt back on.

Just then, you noticed a small dog staring at the three of you from a few feet away.

"What's with this dog?" Zoro asked, turning to look at it.

"Doggie," Luffy smiled, inching his cage closer to the animal.

The dog deadpanned.

He tried making funny faces at it, stretching his skin, but the dog still kept on its emotionless face.

"Guys, it looks like this dog is frozen," Luffy smiled at us as you two got up and sat down near the store, our backs against the porch.

"I don't give a damn. He could sit there forever, for all I care," Zoro brushed off.

You sighed as you sat down next to Zoro.

"Thank you," he muttered, looking down at the ground, "For patching me up."

You smiled.

"Don't sweat it. It's what I'm here for," you playfully punched him in the arm, earning a chuckle.

"I wonder if it's dead," Luffy smiled again, reaching out his finger and touching the dog, the animal responding by clamping it's jaws on Luffy's face.

You and Zoro watched wide eyed as the dog attacked Luffy.

"Luffy, please! Quit goofing around and get serious!" Zoro exclaimed.

He suddenly passed out, his head landing in your lap.

You blushed dark red.

"Damn. You lost a lot more blood that I thought. I knew I should've put the bandages on sooner," you scolded.

"I don't feel so good," he deliriously groaned.

'Great. I got a caged Luffy and a loopy Zoro. This situation just went from bad to worse.'

Just then, redhead girl walked over to you.

"Oh, hi, Navigator," Luffy smiled.

"I guess you can have this. You got me out of a pretty sticky situation," the girl stated, throwing a key next to Luffy's cage.

"Great! The key to the cage! Did you go and steal it for me? Thanks, Nami!" Luffy thanked.

"I only did it so we'd be even. And now I don't owe you anything. So we're square, okay?" she smirked.

Luffy was about to grab the key when the dog got to it first, swallowing it.

You eyes bugged out of your sockets.

"You've got to be kidding me," you exasperatedly groaned, throwing your head back.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, dog! Give it back! That's not food! Gimme my key! Give it, give it, give it, give it, give it, give it, give it!" Luffy shouted, grabbing the dog's neck and shaking it.

"Hey! Stop that! Stop picking on poor Chouchou! Leave him alone!" an old man shouted at Luffy, walking over.

"And who might you be, old man?" Zoro asked, sitting back up and leaning against the porch.

"Old man? Why, I'm the mayor of this town! Who are you and why are you hurting Chouchou? Huh?" The old man glanced at Zoro's blood stained haramaki.

"My, my, that's quite an injury you have there. I take it that ya had a run in with Captain Buggy. We need to get you to a doctor."

"You have a doctor in this ghost town?" you asked, cocking an eyebrow as you rested your head on the pillar.

You were exhausted, and your ever-growing hunger wasn't helping.

"I don't need a doctor. I'm fine," Zoro declined.

"No, you're not. Go to an inn and take a nap or something," you ordered. 

You were laying down on the roof of a building, trying to get some rest, but couldn't.

'I can't sleep at a time like this. I need to plan. Luffy's stuck in the cage, Zoro's in bad condition, and I can't take on an entire pirate crew by myself, let alone Buggy. I gotta find us a way to escape.'

Suddenly, you heard a whooshing noise.

You got up and saw a Buggy Ball flying straight for the building Zoro was sleeping in.

"CRAP!" you shouted, making your wings spread and jumping off the building, but the explosion went off.

You flew straight for the inn and stood in front of the wreckage.

"ZORO!" you frantically shouted.

You heard voices getting closer as the dust settled and saw Zoro sit up from the rubble, yawning as he pushed the boards of wood off himself.

"What happened?" he groggily asked.

You took a deep sigh of relief before smacking him upside the head.

"STOP SCARING ME LIKE THAT, YOU BASTARD! I THOUGHT YOU DIED!" you shouted. 

"STOP HITTING ME!" he shouted back.

Luffy laughed out of happiness.

"How did you survive that blast?" Nami asked, a slight fearful expression on her face.

"All right! You're alive!" Luffy smiled.

"I refuse to let him get away with this. I won't stand for it. I can't let this scumbag destroy all that my townspeople worked for these last forty years. I am the mayor of this town! I will protect it and its inhabitants! I swear...to my dying breath!" The mayor shouted, Nami having to hold him back.

"Stop! You can't defeat Buggy!" she exclaimed as he struggled.

"Perhaps, but there are some fights that a man can't run away from! Isn't that right?!" the mayor asked.

"That's right, old man!" Luffy smiled.

"Shut up! Don't egg him on, Luffy! It's dangerous for him to fight Buggy!" Nami scolded, straining to keep him from moving.

"I know it's dangerous! I'm coming for you, Buggy the Clown!" the mayor shouted, breaking free from Nami's grip and running off.

"Looks like the party's getting more exciting," Zoro smirked.

"Sure does," Luffy laughed.

"This is no time for laughter," Nami sighed.

"Don't worry. I started to grow fond of that old man. There no way I'd let him die," Luffy assured.

"Well. In that case-." "You're gonna go, too?! You're wounded!" Nami frantically interrupted Zoro as he got up and walked over to you and Luffy.

"Yeah, so what? The injury to my reputation's a lot worse than the injury to my gut," he smirked again, tying his bandana.

You smirked, giving the green head a lightly punch in the arm, him giving a light chuckle.

"Well, if we want to get to the Grand Line, we better go steal that chart back. Are you gonna join our crew or what? Huh? C'mon," Luffy smiled, holding his hand out to the redhead.

"I'll never sink so low as to become a pirate," she started, playfully smacking away Luffy's hand, smirking

"But, I suppose we could team up, in order to achieve our common goal."

You all had gotten closer to where Buggy's ship was and Luffy had stopped Clown Face from strangling the mayor.

"I'm here to kick your ass. Just like I promised I would, Buggy," Luffy smirked as he held Buggy's severed hand.

Clown Face strained to pull it away from him but Luffy let it go, the hand flying back over to Buggy and reattaching on his wrist.

"Damn you, Straw Hat! How dare you! You can't just waltz up to me and treat me like this! I'm Captain Buggy and I won't stand for it!" Clown Face yelled from the rooftop.

"God, you're annoying," you rolled your eyes.

"Listen to me, all I want is the chart and the treasure, then I'm out of here, you got it?" Nami stated, turning to you and Zoro.

"Yeah, I got it," Zoro rolled his eyes.

"Get outta here. Why'd you follow me? You're outsiders, leave this to me," the mayor weakly asked from his spot on the ground, groaning in pain.

"This is my fight! I need to be the one to protect my town! Buggy is my fight!"

He got up and grabbed his spear, so you drew your mace and threw it at him, the butt of it hitting him in the back of the head and knocking him out.

Nami's mouth gaped while Zoro and Luffy chuckled.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Why'd you knock out the mayor?!" she shouted in your face.

"I admire his want to fight for his village, but we're doing him a favor. We'll take care of Bozo and his men," you stated, walking over and grabbing your mace, tucking it back into your holster.

"That's not a bad idea. If the old man had continued to fight he would have died. That's for the best," Zoro shrugged, looking down at the unconscious mayor.

"You didn't have to hit him! I'm sure we could have thought of a more humane way to deal with the situation!" Nami shouted in your face again.

"You got a faster way to knock out a riled up old man? I'd love to hear it," you sarcastically asked, rolling your eyes.

"Here goes... BIG NOSE!" Luffy shouted, pausing to inhale in the middle.

"That's the worst thing you could've said to him!" Nami exclaimed, her hands on her cheeks.

"Oh, you damn flashy idiot! I won't stand for this! Take aim and fire the Buggy Ball!" Buggy yelled.

His henchmen aimed the cannon.

"Why'd you have to say that?" Nami uneasily asked, running away.

"C'mon, we gotta go," Zoro said quickly.

"You guys go ahead. I'm fine. Just watch," Luffy smirked.

"Time to die!" Buggy shouted, the cannon firing.

Zoro quickly grabbed your arm and pulled you off to the side with him as Luffy inflated himself, catching the ball in his stomach and shooting it back.

"He coulda warned me," he grumbled as the pirates screamed in fear from the incoming cannon ball.

You blushed as you looked down at Zoro's hand.

It was still holding tightly onto your arm.

"Um, Zoro? I think you can let go now," you said awkwardly, trying your best to suppress the stirring in your stomach.

"Huh? Oh! Sorry," Zoro said quickly, letting go of your arm and looking away from you, but you could've sworn you saw something red on his cheeks.

The explosion rang through the air with the pirates screams.

"All right! I got 'em!" Luffy smiled.

"What the hell kinda monster are you?!" Nami exclaimed.

"I think you freaked her out," Zoro chimed as the two of you walked back over to Luffy.

The house they were on was reduced to boards of wood and dust, with a few pirate limbs sticking out.

"I knew that something was weird after you survived the fight with a lion!" Nami continued.

"You fought a lion?" you asked, cocking a brow.

"No human being can do what you do! Now explain yourself! What the hell was the balloon inflate-y thing that you did just now?!" Nami demanded.

"That was the Gum-Gum Balloon," Luffy cheesed.

"I don't care what you call it, just tell me how you did it! What are you some kinda freak?!" Nami shouted again.

"How dare you try to flashily do me in?" Buggy growled, standing from the rubble and throwing down two sot covered members of his crew.

"What in the world just happened here? No! It's you!" a man with bear ears exclaimed once he caught sight of Luffy.

"Hi!" Luffy smiled.

"It's that damn Straw Hat! Captain Buggy! We have to be careful! He has Devil Fruit powers, too! He's a rubber person! I saw it myself!" Bear Man fearfully told Buggy.

"Rubber person?" Nami confusedly asked.

"Yeah. See," Luffy nodded, grabbing his face and stretching it, earning a yelp from the girl.

After talking to each other, Bear Ears lunged at a guy with a checkered scarf, but was kicked over to you. 

"OUT OF MY WAY!" he shouted.

"How about out of my way?!" Luffy smiled, kicking him into a building.

You turned back to Checker Scarf and saw him jump in the air, landing on a unicycle and peddling towards your captain.

"You may call me Acrobat Cabaji, Captain Buggy's chief of staff. You will pay for your insolence!" he exclaimed, drawing his sword.

He went for a jab at Luffy but Zoro blocked it. 

"I'll clash swords with you," he spat.

"It's an honor, Roronoa Zoro. As a swordsman myself, I relish this chance to slay you," Cabaji narrowed his eyes. 

"Arsonist Technique!" he shouted, spraying fire at Zoro and kicking him right in his wound.

Zoro yelled in pain, dropping to the ground. 

"What's wrong? I didn't kick you that hard, did I?" he taunted. 

"He fights dirty! Going after his injury like that!" Nami exclaimed. 

"Acrobat Technique: Murder at the Steam Bath," Cabaji said in a low voice, swirly his swords around to kick up the dirt.

"Acrobat my ass. That's just an ordinary dust cloud," Zoro growled, quickly blocking Cabaji's attack that followed, but not the second kick to his wound. 

Zoro groaned in pain again as he tried to get up. 

"It's such a disgraceful sight to see a grown man moaning. I suppose now you can see how foolish it was to make an enemy of the Buggy Pirates," Cabaji spat.

"Why are you two just standing there watching him?! He's gonna get himself killed, you know!" Nami shouted at you and Luffy.

"A warrior's fight is sacred. We have no business interfering," you stated.

Back at your village, if two warriors were fighting and someone interfered, the interloper and the warrior would both be shamed.

"Roronoa Zoro... is finished!" Cabaji smirked, peddling straight for him again. 

"You annoying little bastard. You havin' fun pokin' at my wound? Then go ahead!" Zoro smirked back, not making a sound when Cabaji's sword grazed his wound.

"Ouchie!" Luffy grimaced.

You kept your arms cross and didn't flinch.

'A warrior's battle is scared.' 

"Is that enough of a handicap for ya? And now let me show you just how superior my skills are to yours," Zoro smirked, turning around and drawing his swords.

"Yeah, Zoro! Get 'em!" Luffy cheered. 

"You fool. You've made a vast error in judgement. I won't be mocked," Cabaji glared.

"My swords aim to be the world's greatest. I refuse to lose even once to anyone who calls himself a swordsman," Zoro smirked again, placing his third sword in his mouth. 

"I see. A strong resolve keeps you going. But have no fear. Wounds as bad as yours will be more than enough of an excuse for losing to me!" Cabaji got into a fighting stance.

"To hell with that. If I lose to someone like you, even with these minimal injuries, then I don't have a very bright future ahead of me, do I?" 

"Yeah!" Luffy cheered again.

"I won't stay and watch this. You pirates can stand around for the rest of time and kill each other for all I care. I mean it doesn't matter to me whether you guys win or lose! I'm gonna take this opportunity to swipe their treasure and get outta here. Maybe we can team up again if we ever get the chance. See ya! Good luck with the fight!" Nami rolled her eyes, wishing you all goodbye before running off. 

"Yeah! Thanks! See ya!" Luffy smiled, waving goodbye.

"Here's a taste of my ultimate acrobatic move. Acrobatic Technique: The Dance of a Hundred Kamikaze Tops!" Cabaji shouted, throwing a bunch of spinning tops at Zoro.

Zoro quickly cut them in half and Cabaji smirked, turning and riding the unicycle up the front of a house. 

"Acrobat Technique: A Hike in the Mountains! Fireworks in the Cool Summer Breeze!" 

'What are these names?'

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Buggy shoot his hand at Zoro.

You quickly flew over and slammed the hand down, pinning it to the ground as Buggy screamed.

"(y/n)," Zoro panted.

"You bitch!" Buggy growled.

You twisted your mace and he screamed again.

"Cabaji must be really damn weak if he needs the help of his captain to win a fight," you spat. 

"If you really wanna fight someone... fight me," Luffy smirked, walking over. 

That's when you noticed Buggy's other hand was behind his back.

Your eyes went wide.

"LUFFY, W—!" 

You were interrupted by the sound of two gunshots, one going through your wing and the other in your side.

You yelled out in pain and dropped to the ground.

"(Y/N)!" Zoro and Luffy exclaimed.

Buggy used a severed hand to shoot you from behind.

"Onigiri!" Zoro shouted, quickly finishing Cabaji before running over and kneeling next to you. 

"Crap. I got distracted," you winced, moving your hand from your wound to see it covered in blood.

"Here," he said weakly.

He dropped to the ground and looped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him so that if anything were to attack, it would get him first.

"Luffy, I'm goin' to sleep," he groaned.

"Good. I'm looking forward to this," Luffy smiled.

Luffy cracked his knuckles and you felt everything begin to darken.

[06sunnybunny06]

The lights go out (Diluc)

The moment Diluc appeared in your life did not portend anything bad. A respectable gentleman with a rich history and a business of creating high-quality wine. As a man, he was quite gallant. It seemed that the red hair could flare up like his eyes. Always neat clothes, even in the role of a bartender, looked gorgeous, hugging a muscular body. His calm character gave his appearance a bit of mystery. In general, any lady will lose her head for such an enviable bachelor.

What else can I say about someone who treats your drunken nonsense with understanding and calmness. Which made you feel ashamed afterwards. As an apology, you could only cook some kind of dish. With your modest budget, you won't be able to keep up with gifts. Especially for a man who has everything. There was still some way to survive until the next paycheck. Diluc politely refused, but your persistence did not give him a chance. The guy was embarrassed, but also grateful. It was not uncommon for him to skip lunch because of his busy schedule.

Over time, a good friend of the bartender turned into a good friend. Your conversations have become more open. Sometimes you were invited for a little walk. Which is surprising, considering his busy schedule, but how can you refuse your friend? Recently, parcels without the sender's name began to be delivered to your doorstep. They contained small gifts. Your neighbor, when she saw another box in your hands, sighed languidly. "It looks like our t/i has a secret admirer. How romantic!"

You were awkwardly scratching your head, knowing who the sender might be. Your friend only apologized for not giving his name to this suspicion, since he has many enemies. And that could be a problem. He didn't hear you at all awkwardly mention that it was too much and too expensive to give something in return.

You liked Diluc, I don't look at his slight detachment. It seemed that the man was carrying more weight on his shoulders than could be seen from the outside. It didn't interfere with your friendship in any way. All people have secrets. There is no person who would not hide skeletons in the closet.

It seemed like your relationship was more like a couple in love than friendship. But the thoughts in your head kept nagging at you, because you didn't match his status in any way. An ordinary person with ordinary problems….Jean could be suitable for this role. She not only occupies a high position, but is also strong, intelligent, and also perfectly beautiful. It is rumored that she and Diluc often played together as children. An ideal candidate for the role of his wife…

Such thoughts could drive you crazy, but reality is completely different from fairy tales. Every relationship can end before it even starts. And feeling that my heart involuntarily begins to flutter at the sight of a red-haired man. You decided to stop it before the feelings tore your heart into small pieces.

Lately, Diluc has stopped observing your presence. It seemed like forever since you greeted him with a bright smile after working days. The man wondered if he had done something wrong the last time you met. You were just acting weird. No, rather detached. He decided to find out about it face to face. His concern for you has become almost the norm in everyday life.

Unfortunately, the weather foreshadowed a thunderstorm. Huge black clouds covered the sky like a blanket. Diluc already wanted to go home until he met the little owner of a small flower shop. You were just working for her. What was his surprise when Flora told him that you went in search of wind asters in the direction of the Valley of the Winds. Your absence meant that you hadn't returned yet.

I hope she will come back soon or she can hide somewhere. It's going to rain heavily. No matter how it gets to the storm. Even the flowers have closed their buds.

The girl left Diluc in a hurry, completely not noticing his dumbfounded face. The body did not move arbitrarily in the right direction. There was only one thought in my head: "You're in danger." He wanted to scream, knock down the first tree he saw, or hit someone. He couldn't stop. Fear has already clearly painted every case of your death. Now his visions could become reality.

Damn it. The first drops were felt on the skin. There were more of them with every step. A few minutes later, a clap of thunder hit my ears. It's bad. You're afraid of a thunderstorm. It was only by a miracle that through the haze he could see the overturned basket on the ground. Asters are scattered around. After walking a little further, he found a small depression between the stones. Your body was huddled there. Like a squirrel in a hollow tree. At that moment, a sigh of relief escaped from Diluc. You're alive.

You couldn't figure out how you got home. I remembered how Flora had talked about the lack of asters. You decided to go in search of them in order to somehow distract yourself from thoughts of Diluc. A thunderstorm came by the way, and it seems that you even found a place to hide and maybe fell asleep. But there are no memories left in my head of how you came home. Although it doesn't look like your house.

Are you finally awake?

That voice made you jump. The man you were trying to avoid was sitting on a chair next to the bed. Fatigue and lack of sleep were clearly visible on his face.

Diluc…

The guy sighed heavily, hiding his eyes in his palm. "I almost lost my mind while I was looking for you. Plus you were down with a fever for four days and I panicked even more when I couldn't wake you up. Why did you even go to the devil knows where before the storm?"

It's just that Flora needed flowers to sell, so I decided…

What the hell kind of flowers?!

It was not a scream, but the roar of a desperate beast. He literally made your body freeze. Diluc has never been so scary before. He was scared of his own voice when he noticed the fear in your eyes.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you…. but the fact remains. You put yourself in danger. Is it worth risking your life for such pennies? How can I leave you if you can't even take care of yourself?

He scolded you like a strict parent for a little, wayward daughter. But he wasn't your parent. This is a person you may love, which makes you blush even more on an already red face.

I'm sorry…- that's all you could say.

It seemed like an eternity had passed when the heavy wooden chair creaked. Diluc stood up, heading for the door. You couldn't leave it like that again. Maybe this will be the only chance to confess to him.

Diluc….

From today on, thisplace is your new home. He said it without even turning around, causing your body to freeze on the spot. Diluc went out, letting the light from the corridor into the room. You managed to make out his serious face and completely extinguished eyes. "I'm sorry, but it's for your own good..

And the door closed, taking away the last bits of light. At that moment, my heart sank…