#and instead it's someone telling me that of course i can speak over anyone i want because i'm human

[halfwayhearted]

Maps — Jobe Bellingham.

Pairing: Jobe Bellingham x Fem!Reader

Summary: Noticing the not-so-subtle stares of the man you wanted but couldn’t have was something you despised.

Word Count: 775+

Disclaimer/s — Slight angst-ish… argument, that’s it.

A/N: The idea I originally had for this like, left my mind in the middle of writing so the ending is so ohr… rushed… hey. Hey!

Why couldn’t he make up his mind? Did he want you? Did he not? It was like holding a flower and delicately picking off the petals, playing the game of ‘he loves me,’ ‘he loves me not.’ It was tiring.

You didn’t know, nor could you tell. It was enough to make you lose it. Spending seconds, minutes, and hours on the situation only to push it aside. Telling yourself not to keep this going. But how could you do that when he always made you feel like you could actually mean something to him?

It pissed you off more than you cared to admit.

What pissed you off even more was the fact that Jobe was staring at you from across the room, his fingers running over his bottom lip and his eyes narrowed while the guy you were speaking to let out a laugh at something you had said. Seriously?

You told yourself that you were fine, you could do this. Don’t let him get to you. He wasn’t worth it.

Maybe you would have listened to your own advice if the man in front of you hadn’t stiffened and asked, “You know who that is over there?”

Already knowing who he was referring to, you refrain from sighing and instead excuse yourself. Wasting no time, you stride toward the man who slowly smirks up at you. Oh, you hated him.

“What the hell are you trying to accomplish?” You snap, your gaze never leaving his even when he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not trying to ‘accomplish’ anything.” Oh boy, he was insufferable! You couldn’t stand him at all.

Yet you still couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away when he gently grasps your forearms and guides you to a secluded area outside, thinking it was because your voice was raising and he didn’t want anyone to focus their attention on the both of you.

The second you’re aware that it’s just the two of you, you inhale sharply. “If you think you can just ghost me for days on end and then stare at anybody who’s even an inch in my vicinity the way you’re staring, then you’re wrong,” you snap, hands clenching. “Is it really that hard to make up your mind? I don’t—I don’t get you at all, Jobe!”

When he opens his mouth to speak, you quickly continue, “I will not wait for someone who doesn’t know what or who they want. I just won’t.”

After a few seconds pass, Jobe just simply stares at you, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, as if he’s contemplating how to handle the situation.

“Of course,” you scoff. “Whatever—I’m done.” Turning around, you’re about to walk away when he lets out a sigh and tugs you back toward him, making you roll your eyes and take a step back.

The man wets his lips, “I do know what I want.”

“Do you? Then tell me, what is it that you want?”

“You,” he responds almost instantly, making you suck in a breath. But you won’t give in that easily.

“Your way of showing it could use a little work.”

Taking a step toward you, he speaks once again, “Listen—I was… stupid before. I’m sure now.”

“You say you can’t be with me. Then you say that you won’t be able to be with me. Now I’m who you want? I don’t need you playing in my face.”

How did he go about this? You wouldn’t believe him. Rightfully so. Now that he was finally here and able to admit how he felt, he couldn’t help but feel that he was too late. Was he too late?

“What can I do?” He questions, his tone of voice quiet and soft. “Tell me what I can do; I’ll do it.”

Your eyes narrow. He was telling the truth, indeed he was. It didn’t even matter to you. Not anymore.

That’s what you kept telling yourself, but his next words changed your mind in an instant: “Will you have dinner with me? Let me just prove it to you.”

Let me prove it to you. All the resolve you had mustered up disintegrated into thin air and you found yourself letting out a sigh, “One dinner.”

“One dinner?” He echoes. “That’s—okay. Deal.”

Right, deal. You give Jobe one last look before walking past him. Once he’s alone, he starts coming up with different plans for your dinner. This is his one chance to prove to you that he’s, well, sorry and that you’re the one he wants.

And the man will make sure to prove both to you.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[shaunashipman]

(I would like to acknowledge that I myself am a queer woman, and if any queer men want to tell me to shut up and delete this, please do)

This line encapsulates everything that is wrong with your pov. Men and women are both humans at the end of the day. We are not at all incapable of understanding each other or judging portrayals of relationships that might not include our own sex. For example, there are obviously women who liked the dinner scene (such as yourself) but there are also gay men who did not like it. What does that tell you? You can't just say that the gay men who didn't like it are valid and the women aren't even when they have similar reasoning. The reasoning is what should be focused on. Making it about gender is so unnecessary and just boils down to telling women to shut up because you think they're too stupid to judge a scene that was written by women to begin with.

my pov is that queer men know mlm relationships better than me, because I will never be a man in a relationship with a man. and this whole thing is about gay men—yes, not all, but a fucking lot—saying what they felt about both bucktommy AND about how woman, who outnumber them by a lot in fandom, treat mlm men and ships in general, only for bunch of women to talk over them. to reply to their posts about their feeling as a queer man in fandom by saying "fandom's not really for men". so if queer men thought I was speaking over them in this discussion, yes I want them to tell me so.

sorry, but you can't fully understand something you will never experience. I will never fully understand being a queer man, I will never fully understand being a black woman, I will never fully understand being a physically disabled person. but what I can do is listen. something that specifically the women in this fandom have been refusing to do, to the point of doubling down on dangerous homophobic rhetoric.

as for the dinner scene, the dislike of it, at least from the women? is because they were putting themselves in buck's shoes, when they are not a queer man. multiple women saying the scene was mocking women's trauma is them putting their perspective over the perspective of the characters, neither of whom are women therefore no women's trauma is being mocked. but these women can't help centering themselves.

and I don't think these women are too stupid to judge it. I think these women are too wilfully blind to judge it, as they have been with every other bucktommy scene, because in addition to superimposing their own experiences over the characters, they go into each scene already hating it, and instead of acknowledging that, they twist and outright ignore parts of the scene to fit the view they already had.

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 2 masterlist

-

How am I hearing you?

That should be the first question out of your mouth, but instead what comes out is a meek trembling of words. “E-excuse me?”

His smile doesn’t waver. “Asked if you could let me in, love. I’m a bit turned around.”

You pause for a moment to take stock of the situation. A programming that has served your species since the dawn of time quietly whispers something to you, its voice unintelligible but meaningful. The instinct to help kicks in with the man’s plea, but your own confusion stays its corresponding response. 

There’s a man outside the ship knocking on the window and you’ve never seen his face before. 

“Where did you—where did you even come from?” you ask. 

He waves a hand and it drifts slowly beside his helmet, encumbered by the lack of gravity. “Around. Lost contact with my crew and I’ve been trying to get some help ever since.”

His tone is too blasé for the situation. You’d expect fear or urgency, but he speaks as though reassuring you.

“Was there another ship nearby?” You don’t remember Graves mentioning any other ships in this sector of the solar system. With many funded by private corporations or individuals, the team might not be always privy to all ongoing missions, but the commander would have known if there was a ship within a lunar distance. 

“At some point,” he says, still smiling. Too friendly. 

It’s been months since you spoke to a man your age that you hadn’t seen drink their own piss via the ship’s recycled water filtration system. Not to shame anyone—you’re part of that statistic too—but you’ve realized in the past few weeks how far that knowledge has gone towards dampening any burgeoning attraction to anyone.  

But it occurs to you again—a thought burrowing into the recesses of your mind, like a phantom of itself, a loon call over a still lake—that you are hearing someone from outside the ship. Sound traveling through nothing; the very absence of sound. 

The thought is too big for your head, but it fits itself in anyway. It stretches uncomfortably because material reality usually wins in the end. What you can see and hear, you can trust. You know the world through what appears in front of you; that's always how it's been.

This time though, there's something you can't quite fit in your head.

“Wait, let me…let me get some help,” you tell him, taking a step away from the window. Your stomach clenches when he frowns, brows pulled together in concern.

“You sure, love? I can walk you through opening the doors if you need help. Same as my ship, I bet.” He chuckles nervously. “Been out here awhile now; not sure how much oxygen I’ve got left in the tank, if I’m honest.”

That almost gets you, but you remember protocol. For all your shortcomings, you’ve never not followed protocol. Opening the airlock and letting anyone in or out is a process strictly monitored by the commander, and you have no authority to grant anyone access without express permission. You know the access codes, of course, for security and safety reasons, but despite the sudden urgency in his voice, you haven’t been authorized to let him in. 

And then there’s the matter of—

Again, though his frame fills up most of the porthole, when you look out into the depths of space around him, you see nothing out there. You wonder if perhaps Graves purposefully omitted any mention of receiving a distress call from a ship with a lost crew member. 

It feels less than likely. 

“I’ll be back.” You take another step back, heart fluttering in your chest. “Just…wait. I’ll—”

The rest of your sentence never comes, tucked beneath your tongue. Your feet are already taking you away.

The metal floor clangs under your feet as you stumble away and down the hall towards the cargo hold. You can hear the man yell after you, his voice growing more and more distant the farther you run, until its echo lingers only in your head. 

Down the stairs and through the main corridor, you pass the medbay on your way to the cargo hold, the room at the far end of the spacecraft accessible only by descending below the orlop deck. You come galloping down the stairs so fast that you nearly trip over the last one. 

The doors to the hold slide open at your approach. Though the cargo hold on the ship isn’t as gargantuan as some you’ve seen before, it’s still big enough for your footsteps to echo across the room when you make your way inside. Crates holding the ship’s sampling gear and equipment are tied down to the floor by fiber-reinforced polymer straps and covered by heavy-duty nets. The smell of fuel and ozone is pungent, thick in the air. 

The temperature in the hold is a degree or two hotter than the rest of the ship, putting you instantly on edge. Irritable; uncomfortable. Heat clings to the grooves of your skin, sinking past the epidermis. You tug your collar out with a finger. 

“Hello?” you call out into the hold, voice reverberating off the walls.

No one responds. Perhaps Farah did come for her brother, as she mentioned earlier. It wouldn’t do for you to linger in the empty hold then, the man outside the ship still a pressing concern. 

The ceiling is banded by metal beams, ferrous pipes running up the walls to the rafters, gurgling and whistling as water passes through. You can see the shoddy workmanship in the exposed scaffolding, areas that should’ve long ago been covered up or hidden away behind walls. A pipe in a far corner overhead drips onto the concrete below. 

“Looking for someone?” a voice asks from directly behind you, and your heart jumps into your throat at the sudden sound. 

When you whirl around, Hadir stands in the middle of the cargo hold, shoulders slouched and hands stuffed in his pockets. He lifts an eyebrow at the look on your face. Though he shares some features in common with his sister, his build is entirely different; stockier, slightly softer. Round jaw to her sharp. The same widow’s peak though, and the same nose. 

“Yeah, hi—morning, by the way.” You gesture with your thumb towards the door. “I, just…this is going to sound wild, but I think I just…I think someone’s outside the ship.”

The easy look falls off his face in favor of a more serious expression. 

“Outside the ship?” he repeats in disbelief. 

“Yes, I know, but I swear. Can you just—” Frustration makes you curt. Partial embarrassment too because you know how it sounds. 

There shouldn’t be anyone outside the ship because you’re in the middle of nowhere with no other spaceships around for hundreds of thousands of miles. There shouldn’t be anything other than carbonaceous and silicate asteroids drifting outside the ship. Rubble as small as grains of sand.  

He frowns. “Did someone get locked out of the ship? Why didn’t you go get Graves?”

“It’s not—” Again, you can’t seem to find the words, the right one getting lost in translation. “It’s not someone from the crew.”

Something shifts across his face, a micro-expression that makes your throat tighten involuntarily, but he nods and follows you out of the hold. 

Nerves plague you on the walk back to the porthole. Since you lead the way, you can’t look back and gauge Hadir’s expression, but you can feel his eyes heavy on your back. Skepticism still thick in the air, so rich you can almost taste it. You can hardly blame him. Were it anyone else, you’d think them delusional too. 

The walk back feels twice as long somehow. At the top of the staircase, you breathe quietly out of your mouth in order to catch your breath without letting on how winded you are. Hadir’s footsteps echo yours, a beat off the entire walk back to the corridor you left just a few minutes ago. 

When the porthole finally comes into view, you freeze, causing him to nearly walk right into you. Any apology for the sudden halt doesn't get off the back of your tongue.

A dark, empty nothingness perforated by light in the far off reaches of space. Your throat goes dry at the sight. 

“There was someone outside,” you say. It comes out whispery thin. 

You almost don’t need him to walk up to the glass and look out, knowing already what he’ll see. It’s immediately evident, the porthole free of anyone or anything obscuring the hazy band of stars off in the distance.

There’s no way to see Hadir’s expression as anything other than concerned. He peers out of the porthole again, twisting his head to the right and left in order to see as far as the view extends. 

“I, uh…I don’t see anything out there,” he finally admits, a tad awkwardly. He has a hard time meeting your eyes. 

“Oh,” you reply, nonplussed.  

You step up to the window alongside him. Stars leak out of the blackness of space; eternal night. It’s a long way from anywhere out here. 

“He might’ve gone to another window.”

For a beat, Hadir doesn’t respond. You’re both thinking the same thing. It’s unlikely that if anyone were out stranded in the middle of space that they’d float aimlessly around their only means of salvation rather than just wait for help. 

“Maybe you just saw your own reflection,” Hadir suggests. "It happens. Freaks me out too sometimes."

The tone of voice he uses irks you; it’s vaguely placating, like he’s trying to reassure you as well as himself.

There’s nothing wrong with you though. You saw what you saw and heard what you heard. There was a man outside the porthole hovering in space and he spoke to you. 

“Yeah, maybe,” you say instead. 

You stare at the faint, runny outline of your own face in the window. No matter how hard you stare, you can’t imagine her suddenly opening her mouth and talking to you. 

When the two of you finally part ways, you head for the medbay on autopilot. The mug that was in your hand is long gone—probably accidentally put down when you went looking for Hadir in the cargo hold—and you regret not stopping by the galley for a refill. 

It bothers you that Hadir went the other way, towards the cockpit instead of back to the cargo hold. You wonder whether someone called him up before you found him. 

The medical unit on this ship is smaller than what you’re used to for interplanetary travel. They’ve supplied you with the equipment necessary for simple surgeries and nothing more; anything more complex is left to chance and divine intervention. The operating table in the center of the room comes equipped with a scanner capable of medical imaging and diagnosing. 

It’s an incredibly insular room on top of that, having been designed without windows. Not atypical for a medical bay. Though bigger than your personal quarters, you often find yourself on edge when spending any prolonged amount of time in your work station. 

For all of its flaws, the ship is equipped with a rudimentary form of artificial intelligence. It mainly assists with performing diagnostics, assisting with determining the best trajectory for the spacecraft, and enabling autonomous navigation, the latter function being temporarily suspended after the impact from the day before, but it has some use. You’re especially lucky that every computer on board gives you access to the AI, meaning that you can stay cooped up in the medical unit rather than venturing back to the cockpit where your inquiry might wind up drawing more attention to you than you’d like. 

You lean forward in your chair, a leg tucked into your chest as you flip a switch on the dashboard on the wall behind the computer and then a button on the keyword, the familiar blip letting you know to speak. 

“Ship, please scan the perimeter for any nearby foreign objects.”

Chewing your nails and staring at the computer, you watch it light up, words and symbols flashing across the screen, buttons flicking on and off on the dashboard behind it. The ship rumbles around you as it scans the surrounding vacuum of space for anything with mass. The foot still touching the ground taps, a restless twitch running through your leg. 

The blip of completion makes you jolt in your chair. 

No anomalous objects detected around ship's exterior

You press the button again. “That’s—that’s not possible, Ship. I saw someone out the window.”

When you let go of the button again, the computer goes quiet, running through another round of calculations, performing the same diagnostic again. Another distended moment of anticipation. You hold your breath until the computer beeps, the perimeter inspection complete. 

Scan complete

No anomalous objects detected around ship's exterior

The secondary confirmation makes your stomach sink. 

It’s difficult to articulate the feeling in your chest. Halfway between disbelief and unease. Perhaps a simple error in judgment, but you can’t simply look past the voice you heard from the astronaut outside the porthole. In your life, you’ve made plenty of mistakes and bad calls; you’ve run the gamut of mistakes, everything from going back to old flings to nearly misdiagnosing a patient. 

You have never seen things that weren’t there. 

Still, the reading on the screen doesn’t waver. You stare at it until your watering eyes force you to blink. 

You chew the nail of your middle finger until it tears. Sweat slicks the small of your back and the soft skin under your arms. 

“Okay,” you whisper to yourself. “Okay.”

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ so, you've been isekai'd into a romance novel...

type of post: blurbs characters: trey, vil, lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, kissing in vil's part, lilia's is a little suggestive, I can't help myself, not proofread author's note: I've wanted to do an isekai thing for a while, and I do love a good plot twist ;3

So, you've been isekai'd into a romance novel.

The only way to get home? You have to play the part of the protagonist until the novel ends.

There's just one problem, though: you're not into the love interest.

Not at all.

What's worse: you're starting to fall for a side character.

➼ His Best Friend

You started dozing off while your friend was helping you write an essay.

It was for one of those old romance novels about rich people in the English countryside, and you couldn't stand it. You knew you were going to fail when you fell asleep in your chair, thinking that you'd just cram the next day, except...

...Instead of your room, you wake up on a picturesque hill, inside the book you'd been studying.

You hear someone shouting, and you stand. There's a boy coming towards you, yelling a name you don't-

Oh, oh no.

That's the protagonist's name. Which means that can only be-

"There you are!" Riddle Rosehearts, the love interest of the novel, storms up to you.

"Your friends have been worried sick, you know! We've been looking everywhere! You've embarrassed me in front of the entire county!"

You blink, trying to remember what your friend had told you about this book:

The shouting boy, Riddle, is the love interest. Your love interest.

But it doesn't start out the way- in the beginning, he and the protagonist cannot stand each other. He's hotheaded, strict, and has no interest in love. Over the course of the book, the protagonist teaches him to let go and enjoy life, and blah blah blah...

...Yeah, you have no interest in doing any of that. "Enemies to lovers" isn't really your cup of tea.

But if it's the only way out... you can pretend.

"I... fell asleep," you say. This only seems to make Riddle more frustrated.

"You will come back at once, and apologize to my house and to my guests. Else it'll be off with your head!"

He turns and begins marching back to the estate. You roll your eyes and follow him. You're going to have to put up with this for months?

Well... maybe not.

He leads you through the back door, not wanting to "upset the guests any further", and tells you to wait for him in the kitchen.

Great. Just great.

You watch Riddle straighten his tie and walk into the parlor to speak with the guests, prim and proper as ever. Eye roll.

The door opens- not the door to the parlor, but the one you'd just come from. You turn with a curious look.

"Oh!" another boy says. "I apologize, I wasn't... expecting anyone."

After a moment, it hits you- this is the love interest's sensible childhood friend, so unimportant in the plot that he was cut from the movie adaptation entirely.

You raise an eyebrow. "No, it's alright. Beats getting yelled at,"

He blinks, confused by your wording, and then smiles. You know you shouldn't be thinking these things, but it's sort of cute. What was his name, again?

"Ah... I suppose Riddle found you, then?"

"You suppose correctly,"

"Heh," he crosses his arms. "I apologize on his behalf. He was just... worried."

Wonderful. This is the part where he tells the protagonist about the love interest's sad backstory, isn't it?

"I don't really want to talk about him right now," you say. "Honestly, I'd rather hear more about you."

His smile falters, and he seems a little... well, taken aback. As if no one has ever asked him about himself.

"I... I suppose we haven't been properly introduced, have we?" he mutters, adjusting his glasses in nervous habit. You remember reading that. It was cute.

"My name is Trey Clover. My family owns the bakery in town, but I'm afraid it's not as glamorous as this."

He means the Rosehearts' manor. You could care less about that.

"You bake?"

"...I do," Trey says. "You eat?"

It's a stupid joke, but it makes you smile.

You nod, and he goes back outside, returning with a basket.

"These are for the guests..." he says, taking a pastry out of the basket. "...But they won't notice if one is missing."

You accept the treat. "Rulebreaker, are you?"

Trey's face flushes, but he laughs it off.

"Certainly not. Rule-breaking is a dangerous pastime in this household,"

And yet, he did it for you.

You smile back.

Suddenly, Riddle's temper isn't going to be the only difficult thing about playing this part...

➼ His Rival

With a movie adaptation on the way and a permanent spot on the bestseller's list, you had great expectations for this little book.

You'd heard nothing but praise. Even your family members had recommended it to you, saying that it was right up your alley, and they thought you'd love it.

So, finally, you buy the book (which is WAY too expensive), make yourself a warm drink, get cozy in bed, and...

And... it's terrible. It's completely unrealistic! It's downright boring!

Disappointed, you put it down, turn off the light, and try to sleep it off.

Try to, because you wake up disgruntled and groggy, and not in your bed. In fact, you're not in a bed at all.

"There you are!" a voice comes from above you.

You look to see a short, panicked lavender-haired boy. "Where have you been?! You're on in five!"

You rub your eyes. "Huh?"

"Didja hit your head or 'somethin? If we don't get you back on stage, my boss is gonna-"

"Going to what, Epel?" a colder, stronger voice carries across the hall. You both turn to see a meticulously dressed man with a stern look on him, and not a single hair out of place.

...Shit. You know where you are.

This is the romance book you'd been reading!

"S-sorry, Mr. Schoenheit," Epel says. "But it's their fault! They're the one who ran off!"

"I know that," Vil Schoenheit, the antagonist of the story, says. He narrows his eyes. "I'm not surprised our little potato has already quit. Couldn't handle the pressure, hm?"

You blink- oh, no.

You're the protagonist- the normal, nobody student who was ~randomly~ chosen to be the lead in a romantic drama, even though they've never acted a day in their lives.

"I-I just-"

"Enough of that," Vil says sternly. "Now, get up. These costumes aren't cheap, and you're dirtying yours on the floor."

He escorts you out of the hall and back onto set, Epel not far behind.

"Places!" someone shouts, and Epel nudges you into position on the sound stage.

"Remember, you don't say anything in this scene," he whispers, covering his headset mic. "Just look like you're in love. And make the kiss believable!"

Your eyes widen. "The WH-"

"Quiet on set!" the director yells, and Epel hurries away. "Action!"

You stand, dumbfounded, as the doors fly open and the book's love interest, actor Neige Leblanche, runs on set. His outfit is simple but glamorous, his eyes wide with emotion, his dark hair lightly tousled.

Horrifically, he's wearing a generous amount of lip gloss. So are you.

"My love!" he cries out, running up the steps toward you. You watch in horror as he gets closer and throws his arms around you, and just as you're about to have the dramatic, impassioned kiss the book has been leading you to, you push him off.

The director stares. Neige's eyes widen. Epel smacks his forehead.

The rest of the set is silent.

Finally, you feel a cool hand wrapping around your wrist, and suddenly, you're outside again.

"Have you lost your mind?" Vil hisses, his grip on you tightening. "You are making a fool out of all of us. You're an embarrassment to this production, and you should have never even..."

He stops, mid-rant, when he sees your eyes watering.

"...Don't you dare make me feel sorry for you,"

You sniffle, and he sighs. He pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at your eyes, careful not to smudge the stage makeup.

"You're going to ruin someone's hard work like that, you know," he murmurs. "Now, what are you crying about? Isn't this what you want?"

You shake your head. You must look absolutely miserable, because he isn't even a little mad anymore.

"...You're ridiculous," he mutters, tucking the handkerchief away with a faint smile. "But I can't say I blame you. I wouldn't want to kiss him, either."

You take a deep breath, and then return his smile. How can someone so sweet be a villain?

Vil lets the moment linger. His eyes dart to the stage doors behind you, then back to you, and then he holds your chin between his pointer finger and his thumb, and then he kisses you.

It doesn't last for long, but it's enough to leave you dazed when he pulls away.

"...Your lip gloss is smudged," he comments, and then he walks back to set without another word.

...Perhaps this book is more interesting than you'd thought.

➼ His Father

When your friend started gushing about this new dark romance book she finished, you thought she was just reading a bunch of tropes off a page.

Fae court? Handsome, mysterious, brooding princes? A tall, dark, possessive love interest? Sure.

You promise you'll try it, and she takes that as a "yes", leaving the book on your desk. It goes untouched.

You wake up in a dark forest. For a moment, you think you're still dreaming- until a thorn pricks your finger, drawing blood, and you realize this is very, very real.

You can see a medieval castle off in the distance, and to your horror, you realize where you are.

"No... this isn't happening..." you mutter to yourself.

"What isn't happening?"

You jump at the sudden noise, and turn on your heels to see someone behind you. How you missed him, you're not sure. He's pale, his hair is striped pink, and his eyes are almost glowing.

"Not from here, are you?" he says with a smile. "You must be tired. Come, Lord Malleus' home is always open to guests."

This is the weirdest stranger danger situation you've ever been in. This small gentleman has fangs.

He chuckles. "Don't let appearances fool you. We're quite hospitable!"

You think about it- you could stay in the forest, and die of a slow and agonizing death, either by starvation or mauling, or you could play the part, return to the castle, fall in love with the tall love interest, and have his babies.

...Honestly, hypothermia doesn't sound too bad.

But you also know that the book has to end eventually. And when it does, you'll get spit out. Maybe.

You're in the mood for taking chances.

The castle is just as grand and old as your friend had described it. The food is just as strange, the court just as intimidating.

Strangely, though, she never mentioned any short, pink-haired fae, apparently named Lilia Vanrouge.

"Enjoying the view, are you?" he asks, having caught you staring.

You quickly look back at your own plate. "It's just, um... well... I was wondering about your relationship to the prince,"

He winks, as if to say "nice save".

"He's... well, a foster son, of sorts. Think of it however you'd please,"

"Are you comfortable?" the prince in question asks, his eyes showing genuine concern.

You shrug. "...I guess so,"

"How does one get so lost they end up in Briar Valley, anyway?" one of his knights, Silver, asks in a soft tone.

"AND HOW CAN WE BE SURE THEY AREN'T AN ASSASSIN SENT TO HARM OUR LIEGE?!" the other, Sebek, says in a less-soft tone.

"Oh, nonsense," Lilia says. "Malleus likes them. Don't you, Malleus?"

The prince nods. Oh, brother.

"How nice. Perhaps you two should rendezvous after dinner? To get to know each other better, hm?"

You stare down Lilia, practically begging him to shut up. You want to shake him and shout "Stop trying to set me up with your weird kid!!!!!"

Sebek looks appalled at the very idea. "BUT- MASTER LILIA- THEY CANNOT BE TRUSTED! I CANNOT ALLOW THIS!"

Thank you, Sebek!!! you think.

"Yeah, um... you know, I'm kind of tired, so..." you say. "Maybe tomorrow? Or next week? Or, um, whenever. You know."

Sebek visibly relaxes at that, and Silver raises an eyebrow.

"Of course," Malleus says. "I will have the finest room arranged for you at once."

And he did. This world may be stuck in ye olde medieval fantasy times, but man, what money can't buy...

As you look around the exquisite room, you hear a knock at the door.

Lilia comes in without waiting for an answer. "Enjoying the room, I hope?"

You sigh.

"Did Malleus send you?"

He chuckles, and takes a seat on your bed. "I am his keeper, he is not mine. I just wanted to see how you were faring,"

"I'm fine," you turn back to the wall, pretending to look at a tapestry. The sight of him on your bed is... distracting, to say the least.

"Hm..." Lilia hums. "...I would like to apologize for overstepping at dinner. I did not mean to imply anything. We're rather isolated here, and Malleus has been lonely..."

It makes sense, of course. He's only looking out for his... strange, sort-of son. Still...

"And you're not?" you ask.

Lilia doesn't have a response for that. You turn around to gauge his expression, and he's smiling.

"Khee hee. You're a clever little thing. If I didn't know any better, I would think you were flirting,"

Now, it's your turn to not respond. He's caught you, and he knows it.

Your heart beats with something like excitement as he stands and closes the door.

"But I suppose I have all night to figure it out,"

[p0orbaby]

Little fic where is alexia dating an English player who finds it difficult how affectionate Spanish people are with each other. Alexia having to reassure her that it’s a Spanish thing and she’ll try to be less touchy etc.

-

You’re not sure when exactly it starts to get on your nerves, but by the time you notice, you’re on a sun-bleached terrace in Barcelona, watching Alexia kiss three people hello in under five minutes. It's an odd thing to obsess over, and yet here you are, eyes narrowed as you sip on an overpriced cortado that tastes like dust and regret. You’re not jealous. Of course not. That would be absurd. You’re simply... perplexed by the excessive touching, the relentless stream of hugs, kisses, and arm squeezes that seem to form the bedrock of Spanish existence. Everyone’s always touching someone.

In England, a handshake is intimate enough, and in London, where you’re from, if anyone dared speak before your tea even cooled, you’d probably alert the authorities. But here? It's practically a greeting card in motion. You’ve seen grown men embrace in the street like they’ve just survived a shipwreck. It's baffling.

Alexia sits down across from you, smiling in that way that makes you feel foolish for being annoyed by anything. She’s impossibly beautiful, and the knowledge of that fact gnaws at you constantly. She’s all golden skin and nonchalance, legs casually crossed, one hand fiddling with her sunglasses as if she’s in some sort of commercial for ‘cool.’

“Are you okay?” she asks, her accent making every word sound softer than it should be, like it's wrapped in velvet. She’s genuinely concerned, or she’s pretending really well. You can’t tell which.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fine”

And then, because you’re not actually fine: “Do you have to kiss everyone?”

She looks at you like you’ve just asked if the sky is blue. “It’s how we greet people here”

“I know that,” you say, setting your cup down with more force than necessary. “But does it have to be every time? You’ve kissed three strangers today already, and it’s not even noon”

Alexia blinks at you, then laughs. “It’s just being polite”

Polite? You're thinking. In England, you say "hi" and move on with your day. No one has to swap saliva to prove they like you. But this? This is something else.

“Well, it’s... it’s excessive.” You try to explain, gesturing vaguely in the air like you can catch the sheer madness of it all. “People just... touch all the time. And I’m not used to it”

Alexia’s mouth twitches, trying to suppress a smile. “We’re just more affectionate”

“Affectionate?” you say. “It’s like a plague of hand-holding and cheek-kissing”

She finally lets out a laugh, full-bodied, the kind that makes her eyes crinkle. “You sound like an old lady”

“Maybe I am,” you mutter, trying to keep a straight face. “Maybe England has made me emotionally unavailable”

Alexia reaches out to touch your arm, then stops, hesitating, her hand hovering mid-air like she’s not sure if it’ll set you off again. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no,” you sigh, waving her hand toward you, now feeling like the crazy one. “It’s fine. Just... give me a heads-up before the next 12-person cuddle fest”

She grins, leaning back. “I can try”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “You’re so annoying”

“And you love it

You do. And you hate that you do, which is probably the worst part of all this. She knows you’re wound too tight for your own good, and she’s infinitely more relaxed about everything, like the world bends to her will instead of the other way around.

You finish your cortado, now cold. “You realise you kissed the barista on the way in, right?”

Alexia nods, grinning wickedly. “She made my coffee right”

You groan, but you’re laughing, which only encourages her. “I’m never letting you set foot in the UK again”

“That’s fine,” she says, leaning in, all confidence. “Spain suits you better anyway. You just don’t know it yet”

[juletheghoul]

greedy

a/n: I cannot be stopped at this point, this man brings out the WHORE in me and I have happily accepted my fate lol. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for being a constant source of love and support and for contributing so much to this world, thanks my love! 🩷Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus being a total glutton for your greed over him, creampie, heavy possessive feelings from you because lets be REAL, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.4k

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

His house was in order, and that was mostly thanks to you. 

Since your return to Rome, and the villa, he has been busy. Mostly, it’s been a parade of high ranking officials, members of the noble families making their pilgrimage to pay homage to the ‘Saviour of Rome’.

He despised it.

With all of the ferocity within him, he despised it. You could see it in his visage, in the clench in his jaw when they’d come to call. The way the normally confident expression in his eyes, faltered and focused on his sandaled feet. If he hadn’t been the person he was, you might have laughed. But he was, and so you didn’t. 

After a few weeks it inevitably died down, and the whole house seemed to take a deep breath, it wasn’t to last though. Just as the air seems to settle, someone comes calling, someone very important. 

“Lavinia–” She is a true beauty, of high Roman birth and the daughter to one of the most influential men in Rome, just a step below the Emperor himself. “You honour me…” He is at a loss for words as she floats into the halls of his house. His eyes find yours but you don’t need him to say a word, within a moment you’re flitting towards the other attendants, and within the span of a few breaths, his table is laid out with enough food and wine to impress even one as fine as her. 

“I have caught you unawares have I not?” She giggles and the sound is almost calculated to ensnare, the jewels at her throat and dangling from her ears glinting almost as brightly as her eyes “I am glad to see I am not vying with anyone else for your attention, I wanted you all to myself this day.” He leads her to his table, and sends everyone out of the room but you. 

“Yes, well.” He clears his throat, and already you can feel him closing up, hiding behind his mask of courtesy. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

You stand behind his chair at the ready, and watch her cast her spell on him, silently. 

“Does one such as me need a reason to visit with you General Marcus? Surely with your victory you’d have a steady parade of young, quite available women marching through your halls, fighting tooth and nail to catch your eye.” She shook out her long blonde waves, subtly, but not so subtly angling herself in the most flattering way. “You are unmarried and unattached as of yet, all of Rome knows it.” She bites her lip, appealing to him in the way beautiful women always appeal to men and it shocks you to feel the unfamiliar stab of anger in your belly. 

He grunted, noncommittally. 

“I have come to…speak of such things.” She stretched towards him like a cat, picking a grape from the platters on the table, and nibbling at it softly, her lips the colour of ripe pomegranates. “If you would care to hear them, of course.” 

He has no interest in marriage, he cares too much for his time alone, he will tell you to leave–

“I will, of course, listen to whatever you have to say, Lavinia.” If you hadn’t been as experienced with him, you would have gasped. Instead, you stood there, trying with all your might to keep the shock off your face, and the tremble out of your hands. “Wine.” He spoke the word clearly, and it pulled you out of your shocked anger behind him. With a practiced hand, you poured for him, and then moved quickly to pour for her. 

You don’t catch his eye, but you feel it on you, no doubt noting the furrow in your brow,  tracking you, as you make your way back to your place behind him. You let go of a deep, steadying breath and for a moment you could swear on all of the Gods you see him smile over his shoulder. In the blink of an eye, it’s gone. 

“Let us speak of them then.” She claps her hands together happily, “My father would have come to speak to you sooner or later, but I thought it best to test the waters myself, without the scrutiny of his eye.” She leans towards him again, elbows on his table, holding her delicate face in her hands and even you have to admit, it’s masterful. The jewels on her fingers only enhance the hue of her eyes. She takes advantage of the cut of her dress, the calculated pieces of flesh she has on display, and how cunningly she uses them is something to behold. You look down at the simple tunic you wear, the uniform of your station and all at once, you feel beneath her, beneath everyone. 

“And what would your father have to say to me, I believe you are more than capable of making a case for yourself. You strike me as the sort of woman that gets what she wants.” His tone is different, he sounds almost interested and it’s a dagger through your heart. 

Steel yourself, you are nothing but a slave, no matter how many times he buries himself inside you. You are what’s available, until he finds another, equal to him. 

She giggles, tickled, but unsurprised that he seems to be responding to her charms. 

“I do get what I want, in the end.” She smiles, and it is truly lovely, “and what I want is you.” 

“Shall I fetch more wine Dominus?” You step beside him, whispering with a tremble in your voice, hoping, wishing, praying to all of the Gods that he’ll spare you from this torment. 

“No.” A soft word, and your stomach turns. You step back silently. “I am surprised you have come to me, I am sure there are armies of men ready to fight to the death for you, why am I the one you want”

“Oh come now Marcus, you have just led our army in a great victory, the streets cry out your name, the Emperor himself has thanked you for your service, you are the most desired man in all of Rome, you know this.” She brushes his question off, “I can raise you up higher still, to the very halls of the Senate, should you wish it.” 

“The Senate? And what would I do in the Senate? I am no politician, I am quite content where I am.” He smiles for her benefit, and you do your best to remain impartial, and invisible. 

Unfeeling. Unmoving.

“It is an option, should you want it.” She reiterates, “Now, what do you say of this match? What are your thoughts?” She picks more food off the plates, completely confident. 

“I will say this, you honour me greatly,” She smiles, licking at the tips of her delicate fingers, “It is a lot to consider, and I would be grateful if I could have some time to think, send you word of my final decision once I’ve had time to settle back into civilian life.” He bows his head to her and she responds in kind, seemingly pleased with his response. 

She stays longer than the others, and he entertains her to her heart's content, sharing the less violent stories from the war he’d just won and letting her have her fill of his food and hospitality, and you stand behind him. Listening to it all. Until she grows tired and tells him she must depart. 

“I look forward to hearing your answer, don’t make me wait too long.” She smiles, pressing forward and kissing his cheeks boldly. 

“It was lovely to see you, please give your father my greetings. Be safe.” 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, the air in the room felt thin and for a moment, your thoughts clouded your awareness. 

“You are angry.” His voice cuts through your reverie, making you jump where you stand at his table, setting it to rights. 

“Dominus?”

“Speak plainly, girl. You are displeased with Lavinia coming here, offering herself to me.” He stares at you, his eyebrow raised from his place on his favoured chair. 

“I, I have no cause, no reason–” You stumble over your words, wringing your hands to stay obedient.

“Yes you do. She comes into this house, this house that has been your home for a long time, and asks to make it her own. She would be your Domina, and that angers you.” He speaks with a smile in his voice, his eyes shining with the novelty of your misplaced, and maybe grossly inappropriate anger. 

“I, Dominus–your will is my will, whatever you command–” He raises his hand and for a moment you see a flicker of anger. 

“Speak truthfully now, girl. I see the rage on your face. I feel it in your gaze. I will hear the truth, tell me how you feel.” He narrows his eyes for a moment, and you know he wants to hear the truth. 

“I hate it.” You let go of a deep breath, steadying yourself for the wrath of insolence but it never comes, instead, he smiles. 

“I would hear your reasons.”

“I–I would not have her come here. I would not have her marry you. I have no wish to call her Domina or have her order me away from you. I… I would keep you all to myself,” his smile widens, “Dominus.”

He gestures for you to come closer, and you do, until you stand before him. 

“Would you now?” You stand in the space between his legs, watching the way his eyes dilate to hear you speak of keeping him. 

“Yes Dominus, I would have you all to myself, I would not have her keeping your bed warm.” You seethe at the thought of it, to hear him having her, the way he has you makes your blood boil and he smiles bigger still, his eyes crinkling with the mirth of it. 

“Tell me, my fearsome girl, how greedy you are that you cannot share your Dominus with another.” His hands slide up the backs of your legs, slipping up to cup your backside while your hands land onto his shoulders. 

“I am greedy, I cannot share you Dominus, I will not.” You press yourself closer to him, your fingers threading through his graying curls. “I could not bear to hear you with her.”

“Hmm. You want my cock all for your own, is that it? Only you are fit for the gift of my seed? Tell me.” He pulls your tunic up, and off, stripping you of everything until you stand bare before him. “Only you, and this sweet little cunt, hm? Is that the way of it?” He presses kisses to your belly as he speaks and all at once the anger is gone and replaced with a hunger that only he can satisfy. 

“Yes Dominus, only me-” You pull his face up and claim his mouth, moaning into it at the feeling of his hand cupping your sex. 

“Take it then, girl, take what so clearly belongs to you, what you would keep all to yourself.” 

You waste no time in stripping him bare, relishing to see the way his cock stands at attention for you, and not for the other woman. You ache at the sight of it, the proof of your desire for him dripping onto your thighs in your haste to mount him and when you finally feel him notch his cock at the mouth of your cunt, you practically drop yourself onto it. 

He groans to feel the way you clench around him, the two of you breathing heavily into each other's faces, adjusting to the way his cock seems to kiss your womb. 

“Is this what you wanted, girl?” He bucks up underneath you, and your breasts bounce in his face, mesmerizing him enough to make him do it again. “To claim me like this? Tell me–is this cock yours? Am I yours?” He bounces you again and it’s hard to focus on anything but the fullness of him, the way you feel the pleasure of it lights up every nerve in your body. 

“Yes, yes Dominus, mine–” Your fingers grasp his hair tightly and with every flex of his hips, you roll yours, grinding the pleasure center of your universe against the coarse hairs at the base of his sex. “Your cock is mine, only mine.” he lets out a filthy moan to hear it, and your nipples harden. 

“It is yours, take it, Gods, take it all–” He cannot seem to control himself, quicker and quicker he flexes, until your arousal drenches his lap and the sounds between your legs are wet and obscene. 

“Harder please Dominus, I want it harder–” You hold onto his shoulders, rolling your hips faster and within a moment, he moves forward, placing you on the plush carpet at his feet. Once on the floor, his hips piston and the sounds of your coupling ring out through the room. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, your legs seizing up on his hips, and pulling a scream from your throat. He groans, feeling the way you squeeze around him, the force of your climax milking his cock dry. 

“God's girl, you have knocked the wind from me.” He breathes hard in your ear, pressing his lips to your mouth before moving his kisses down your throat, peppering them across your chest. His tongue licks at one nipple, then the other, making you flutter around him. 

A few moments pass, and although you are comforted by his weight, you don’t want to overstep. He forestalls you though. 

“Come girl, I would have this place set to rights, and retire to bed.” He pulls out with a hiss, moving up and away, “I would have you tell me of your anger, in depth, in my chambers.” He holds out his hand to help you up, and you take it with a smile. 

----

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[moonlit-heartbreak]

Love Languages

Xaden, Liam, Bodhi, Garrick x Reader Warnings: Slight spoilers for FW and IF, some suggestive comments and themes but nothing too explicit a/n: I love these men a little bit too much, so now you all get to enjoy my takes on each of their love languages for my first post🤭. It’s a little short and all over the place, but once my finals are over expect some longer works. Definitely let me know what you all think!

Xaden - Acts of Service

Listen, he's an important guy both as wingleader and a lieutenant and now in being on the front lines of a war, so he has to make sure to keep everyone's respect, and of course keep them all a little scared of him, so he can't get all lovey-dovey with you in public

Instead I see him being big on acts of service. Leaving you an extra piece of bread he grabbed at breakfast that morning, sharpening your swords/daggers so you're set to go for training, things of that nature

He would want to be there for you and let you know that he's looking out for you and acts of service is the perfect way for him to do that subtly but still being more involved in directly making you happy

Don't get me wrong though, when you're alone the acts of service definitely don't stop and he's good at what he does. With this I don’t mean JUST sex (even though it’d be amazing), but he would also love to brush your hair, give you a massage, whatever he can do to make you feel loved and cared for after a long day of classes and training

If there’s something specific you liked back home like a specific snack or item just know that once he finds out he’s going to be bribing one of the fliers to get it for him during a supply run so he can surprise you with it just so he can see your face light up

It works out perfect for you because not only is he making you feel like the most special person in the world with everything he does for you and how well he knows you, but getting perks like him keeping you off the schedule for your least favorite chores doesn't hurt either

The moral of the story is that he would literally do anything to make you happy, and despite how tough he acts you've got him completely wrapped around you finger

Liam - Words of Affirmation

For someone who's experienced so much loss before, he still manages to be SO kind and caring and this would 100% come through in the way he acts with his significant other, especially in terms of how he speaks to them

In public this would probably come off more as supportive and encouraging comments, helpful tips for training, or even just a quick compliment thrown in here or there. He's one of the more laid back out of all of the guys, but he still knows not to let his kindness be mistaken for weakness or allow anyone to try and use you against him, so he's careful to keep a good balance of keeping his guard up and being sweet with you

With that though, neither of you really have anything to worry about. He's the strongest cadet in his year and he trusts that you can hold your own so he'd still be pretty open with you in public

He's the type of guy who would never want to say goodbye without an 'I love you" thrown in there, even if you'd had a disagreement or you're (somehow) upset with him. Words are so important to him and he's going to make sure to tell you how he feels no matter what

I mean think about it, with all those letter he wrote to Sloane this man is a master at communication and he knows how to do it well

SO good at reassuring you. Ever doubting yourself or your abilities? Worried you’re not being a good enough partner? Nervous about opening up to him about something? He knows exactly what to say to calm you down or make you feel better every single time without fail. He just has such a way with words, and when he speaks to you in that soft "everything's going to be alright" voice there's no way you wouldn't feel at least a bit better

I have no doubt in my mind that he would have the sweetest nicknames for you and know exactly what to say when you need it, he’s just the sweetest thing to grace the continent and you’ll be reminded of that every time he speaks his sweet words that make your heart flutter

Bodhi - Physical Touch

This man... I definitely see him lovinggg physical touch. He needs you like he needs air to breathe and he isn't afraid to let the rest of the world know it

He's a confident guy so naturally he'd love to show off his significant other; walking with an arm slung over your shoulder or around your waist, sitting right next to you during meals so that your arms and legs brush against each other, holding hands or even just loosely linking your fingers together while you study, he loves it all

You two have definitely been told to get a room once or twice during training when your sparring sessions get a little too intense (gods bless the innocent bystanders who have to bear witness to that, especially the poor boys who are practically his brothers)

Obviously he knows how to balance his leadership responsibilities with spending time with you so he knows when he has to take a step back and get serious, but trust me, every chance he gets he's finding a way to be right next to you

When you guys are alone... oh boy get ready to be next to him all night long. Whether you’re laying together on one of your beds just talking before you settle in to sleep for the night, sitting on his lap while you both work on your own assignments, showering together, he’ll find a way to make everything a team effort just to be as close to you as possible

Don’t worry though, he knows when to give you your space so if there’s ever a day where you simply want a little alone time he would never push any boundaries and would respect whatever you wanted. However, if you’re trying to avoid him because you’re upset or anything of that nature he’s going to figure out what’s wrong and make sure you’re alright

Bodhi Durran the man that you are... At the end of the day he would be such a sweet partner to you and all of his actions, from full on cuddling to just brushing past each other briefly in the hallway, proves to you every day that he adores you

Garrick - Quality Time

Garrick is definitely more on the serious side, especially in public, but don't underestimate him as a partner because this man knows how to make you feel loved

Being close to you serves multiple purposes for him; it lets him keep an eye on you to make sure you're safe, and it simply brings him the sense of comfort he always gets from being near you

He’s super secure in himself and you, not doubting either of your abilities or your love for one another but just getting to be around you makes him happy. Whether it be sitting together to study, you talking his ear off about whatever antics you and your squad got up to that day, or even just training at the same time even if you’re on opposite sides of the gym sparring with different partners. Spending time with you or just being near each other is how he shows that he's there for you and that he loves you so he'll take whatever time he can get

With spending so much time with you and the fact that he’s a very observant guy, he would be able to read you like a book. There’s no hiding how you’re feeling because he’ll pick up on all of your little tells and know exactly how to go about making you feel better

Along with how observant he is and how deeply he knows you, I also feel like he would give amazing advice too. Disagreement with a friend? Not able to get the hang of a new weapon you’ve been training with? Stressed about an exam and not sure how to study? He has advice for all of it, and he knows when to step in and help you but also when you’ll want to be left alone to figure things out yourself

Whenever you both get a day off (which wouldn’t be often, I mean you have a war to prepare for) it’s always spent together. When you’re able to get some time together in Aretia, he’d take you to some tucked away corner of Riorson House him and Xaden would hang out in as kids just so you could get a few uninterrupted moments alone together, which you both cherish more and more as you inevitably get busier

He might be one of the most intimidating out of all of his friends and arguably out of most other riders as well, but underneath that sexy muscly exterior, he’s got a crazy soft spot for you; and while it might not be fully apparent to anyone who isn’t looking closely enough, you know just how much he loves you and that’s all that matters to the two of you

[annwrites]

⸻ one in the same. part one. ⸻

· pairing: otto hightower x bastardtargfem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: after aemma's funeral, you wish to go to the sept to grieve alone, but otto offers to come with you. &, for once, you actually wish for his company—or, rather, just the simple company of another. · word count: 2,322

"I wish to offer you my condolences, My Lady."

You tighten the clasp of your hands around one another, digging your nails into your tender skin. You stare over his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. "Thank you, Ser Otto. For your kind words."

You make to turn, to go somewhere else—anywhere else—until he, too, turns to begin walking alongside you. You roll your eyes upward, merely glancing at the large expanse of clear blue sky above you momentarily, before looking forward once more.

He gently takes your elbow in his grip, then, and you clench your jaw at him touching you so forwardly.

He looks down at you, while you look to the side. "My Lady, if there is something I can do—anything—so as to...ease your pain, as she was your mother, too—"

You swallow down the lump in your throat, shocked to hear him say such things—even more-so that he's speaking properly to you in general. "Forgive me, Ser Otto, but I wish to go to the Sept," you glance up to him, ready to tack on 'alone', but your chin suddenly wobbles, eyes growing glassy, and a small sob escapes your lips.

You quickly reach up, cupping your hand over your mouth, trying to swallow it down—telling yourself: not here, not in front of him—but it's too late. The waves take you under as the tears continue to fall—slipping down your cheeks—your shallow breaths causing your chest to heave as your sorrow escapes you.

"Oh, My Lady," he says softly, not even hesitating as he takes you in his arms, pulling you against his chest.

You have half-a-mind to shove him away, ask him how dare he touch you without permission, but you instead remain quiet, unable to do naught else but cry and grieve and drown in your tears.

You bury your face in his chest, which smells of mint and parchment and rain, fisting the material of his cloak in your small fists—trying desperately to quiet yourself—but when you feel his gloved hand cup the back of your head, the comforting gesture only serves to make you weep harder.

Eventually, you begin to quiet, feeling so tired now. Not that you hadn't already felt weary—you'd not slept the night before; had hardly slept since her passing in general, especially with knowing the gruesome circumstances of it.

Whenever you imagined her lying there at the maester's mercy—your father's mercy—being cut open as she cried and bled out...it always brought you to tears. Made you feel sick.

You pull away from him, quickly wiping your cheeks, trying to gather yourself—even if you feel wholly unraveled now—as you stand straight, smoothing your skirts before clasping your hands in front of you once more. "Forgive me," you start again, but he interrupts you.

"May I accompany you, My Lady?"

You look up to him. He wants to come with you? In what lifetime would he ever willingly ask to spend time with you—be near you by his own want; accord?

"Unless, of course," he continues. "You wish to be alone."

You shake your head, too tired to keep up this game of pushing him away at every turn out of spite. For today, you can allow his company at your side. Not because it is his company that you desire, specifically. Rather, that it is someone's. Anyone's. Even if he sits silently beside you, it will be enough.

"No. I do not wish for that."

He nods once, then gestures toward your waiting litter.

While you kneel before rows of burning candles that cast a soft orange glow upon your face, Otto seats himself upon the surface where it is clear of wax and flames, knowing kneeling would be a foolish thing to even attempt with his old knees.

He looks down to you and you merely stare at the dripping wax before you, not bothering to fold your hands, or close your eyes, or speak to Gods that do not listen. Not that you believe them to exist in the first place.

You then glance up to him, wondering if he does.

"Would you like for me to step away, to give you a moment of privacy as you pray, My Lady?"

You consider him for a moment, then shake your head. "I did not come here to pray."

He turns more toward you.

"I came here to grieve in silence. Away from watchful eyes. I..."

You consider telling him the truth, then. One you've kept hidden—locked away inside of you, out of fear of punishment or judgement—for years, since the death of your birth mother. For him to be the one person you tell it to...

At one time, sharing such a hard-to-speak truth with him, of all people, would've been unimaginable. Today, you find you care very little for what he may think. What anyone may. About anything.

Your faith, or lack thereof, is not what matters. Not right now.

"Go on," he encourages gently, wondering what truths lay hidden inside of you.

Ever an enigma to him as you've grown older. Into a woman, that is.

It would be a falsehood for him to claim that he's never had you followed—watched—or spied on.

He'd done it, at first, primarily as a safety measure. Not for you, but, rather, for the King—House Targaryen, which you had become a legitimate part of at such a young age, despite his protests otherwise, which had fallen upon deaf ears.

He'd been most-certain, for such a long while, that you would grow into a duplicate of your mother: a wanton whore after gold, even if Viserys had claimed she had been good to him; kind.

Otto knew the ways of such women, however. Knew the follies of men when it came to falling into their arms—their beds.

And, in time, she had given him a daughter—her birthplace being that of a brothel upon the Street of Silk. The King, fearing he would never have another child, as Aemma had repeatedly miscarried heir after heir, had legitimized you at the age of five. Not quite a year later, however, Aemma had become pregnant with the young Princess Rhaenyra, but the title could then not be rescinded. Not that Viserys would've had it any other way.

Viserys had doted on you, and then Aemma as well, after your mother's passing.

He'd not understood it himself: the affections they held toward you, but it was not his place to question it. It was his place, however, to keep a watchful eye over you, ensuring that you kept yourself in-line. Exhibited appropriate behavior, befitting that of a young, titled lady of a great house.

And, much to his surprise, you had and did. You were dutiful in your lessons: reading, writing, and historical studies. Singing, dancing, playing the bells and the harp. Painting, drawing, sewing, dress and jewelry-making. The list went on and on.

Your septa had shaped you well, and you had grown into an excellent example of what a young lady should be. Often-times, even more well-behaved than that of the Princess herself.

He'd always anticipated a slip-up, though; some dangerous or careless decision made by you, which would bring shame upon your house. Instead, however, you were rather the introvert. No late-night escapades into the city, or untoward interactions with young knights or lords for you.

You merely kept company with yourself, and occasionally your half-sister, your step-mother, and your father. He had made clear, very early-on with Alicent, though, that she was to stay away from you. And she had, thankfully—for the most part, at least—honored such demands.

Now, he wonders, if you would not have been a better companion to his daughter than the rebellious Rhaenyra.

You sigh. "I do not...believe in them. After my mother died..." You grow quiet, taking calming breaths, not wishing to cry yet again. "I was angry with them. For a very long while. And then I began to tell myself that I did not believe at all. It was only out of resentment initially. But, somewhere along the way, it became true: my loss of faith. I do not believe that, even if I tried, I could ever get it back. I don't think I would want to."

You look up to him, fearful that he will tell your father. That you will be punished for this most unspeakable truth. You are meant to worship the same Gods as your king. At the very least, a God. Whether Old or New, the Drowned, or the Merling King. Something. Anything.

He considers what you've said for a moment, his eyes trailing along the statues of the Seven, which surround the both of you, before meeting your gaze once again. "You and I, it seems, are one in the same, in more than just loyalty to your house."

Your brows furrow.

He leans down toward you, forearms resting atop his thighs. "My late Lady wife, and my daughter, were and are devout believers. I, myself, however, cannot say the same, I'm afraid."

You blink up at him. "You...you do not believe in the Gods?"

His eyes stare into your own. "No. Not for some time now."

You rise then, seating yourself beside him, looking upon the statue of the Mother. "I don't even remember what she looked like anymore."

He knows it is your birth mother that you refer to.

You decide to change the subject—not wishing to hear him speak ill of her—knowing his feelings toward the woman you came from.

"Why join me?"

He turns his head to look at you. "My Lady?"

You shake your head slightly. "You've always held me in contempt. Even as a little girl; an innocent child. Even then I earned your ire." Your eyes meet his own. "I used to fear you, you know."

His jaw feathers.

"I could never understand what it was that I had done wrong. To deserve such treatment. Leering glares and being chastised for...for just...having fun."

You look away, tears stinging your eyes. "I tried once to mend between us whatever I had broken at the tender age of eight-years-old. Do you remember?" You look to him again.

He remains silent, waiting for explanation.

"I made you a doll. It looked like you. I thought..." You look down to your hands in your lap, remembering its small tunic that you'd perfectly embroidered the Hightower heraldry upon in emerald green thread, hoping it would please him.

"I later found it discarded in the hall. That was the same day I grew to hate you in return. The day I decided that I did not need your approval any longer." You swallow. "I had sought it for so long, for whatever God's-forsaken reason. Someone who never deserved it in the first place."

He clears his throat. "My Lady—"

"Why? Explain it to me." You state, tone demanding.

He sighs. "I had...disagreed with your father—the King's—decision to legitimize you. I disapproved of the circumstances of your birth, most certainly. I'd always anticipated less than comely behavior from you. I'm afraid I resented you simply on principle."

He rests his hand atop yours. "I see now...that it was a mistake. Of all days, this is the one where you most deserve an apology. And I do apologize, My Lady. Truly."

He removes his hand then, leaving your own cold.

You blink back tears. "Thank you."

He was one man in all the realm who seemed least like to ever admit fault—to you of all people. An apology uttered from his lips for only your ears to hear in private...it leaves you without words, unsure of how to further reply.

"What came of it?" He asks.

You look to him, brows knitted together. "Hm?"

"The doll," he says, lip twitching.

You grin, smoothing the skirt of your dress. "I threw it into the hearth in my room. I had hoped you would feel it, perhaps." Your cheeks warm.

"Ah, so that was where the burning had come from all that time ago. Quite an uncomfortable night, as I recall. My chambers far too warm to find sleep."

You laugh quietly, as does he. You're surprised he knows how to do such things: jest and smile. He always seem so incredibly serious at all times. Like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. Though, you suppose, in some ways, he does. At the very least, the Realm.

He speaks again. "Do you forgive me?"

"Do you truly care whether I do?"

He shrugs. "I suppose it is little late now for me to ask for such things. So, let me instead make you a proposal."

He stands and you lean your neck back, staring up at him.

He holds out his bare hand to you, his gloves now tucked away into his pockets. "Let us start anew. You are a lady now grown. We may, if you are agreeable, begin again. As a repentant man, and, if I am fortunate: a clement woman."

You take a moment to look at his large hand, his outstretched palm, and you consider.

He has shown you a different side of himself today, for reasons you are unsure of. Perhaps it is out of kindness—sympathy—for your loss. Perhaps it is to get in your good graces, now that you truly are a lady, and at times have your father's ear. Perhaps it originates from something else entirely.

Perhaps...you will have to accept his offer to find out his motives, if he indeed has any. As Hand of the King, you imagine he must. Even if he does seem sincere.

You slide your delicate hand into his own, standing before him. "To starting anew," you say softly.

[clockwayswrites]

Cozytober Day 14 & 15: Unexpected family gathering Getting comfort after a bad day at school

masterpost CW: referenced abalism

It was a Bad Day.

It had started as a so-so sort of day. The sort of day where words were a little slower and harder to find. Danny could work through those days, he always had to, after the accident. But then, of course, it had been a day that his sociology professor had actually shown up instead of just leaving the teaching assistant to do his work for him.

Of course he had called on Danny. And being a so-so sort of day, Danny had fumbled through the answer. Apparently, that meant the fucking jack-ass decided to use Danny as ‘an example’ right there in front of the whole class. As if public speaking was Danny’s issue. As if sometimes struggling with words meant that he couldn’t do social worker. As if he was worthless.

Danny made himself close his eyes and just breathe. He’d contact his ADA rep tomorrow. There were avenues to deal with this. It was just… it was so much effort and was probably going to be a fight over it. The professor as there for research reason, he didn’t actually care about teaching. Danny would probably have to go in front of a committed and tell his side and—

Tomorrow.

He’d deal with that tomorrow.

Right then Danny just wanted Jason.

Uncovering the hidden panel, Danny typed in his code, popped open the covered door, and swung himself down through it and onto the steal beam.

“Who the fuck?”

Danny froze. Very slowly he looked down. Below him, Jason’s table was expanded out into an oval and surrounded by people. People who were looking up at Danny with a frankly frightening amount of attention and suspicion.

The person closed to Danny stood. Their hand went to something on their belt in a move that Danny was sure was intended to be casual, but wasn’t actually. It made the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck stand up. That person was dangerous. All these people were dangerous.

“So who exactly are you?” They asked.

“Jay wasn’t inviting anyone else, right?” Someone at the table asked rest of of the people.

“Jason didn’t even invite us,” one of the other redheads answered.

“Oh, right.”

“Hey,” the redhead glaring at Danny barked. “I asked who you were!”

He was Jason’s boyfriend. He was allowed to be there. Jason had given him the code. Jason wanted him there! Words that Danny couldn’t manage to speak piled up in the back of his throat.

The redhead’s hand tightened around something.

Danny leaned back.

The rest of the table tensed.

“I swear to fuck Roy, if you throw something at my boyfriend you are not welcome back here!”

The room froze and slowly all eyes shifted to look towards the bedroom where Jason was walking out of it and into the main space.

“Boyfriend?” Someone at the table repeated in a near squeak.

Danny ignored them. Jason was there. Jason was there and knew who he was and that he was welcome even when he didn’t have the words for it. He dropped to hang of the edge of the rafter for just a moment before he flung himself at Jason, trusting the other to catch him.

And Jason did. Jason wrapped Danny up in one of his warm hugs and spun them so that his back was to the group and Danny was hidden.

“Hey, boo,” Jason said and pressed a kiss to Danny’s temple. “They sort of all just showed up. Apparently they decided to have a game night and that this was the place to have it. I was going to text you a warning later. I thought you still had class right now?”

Danny scowled and tapped a sequence against Jason’s hand. S.O.S. Something that Jason had suggested they use as a sign for when Danny was having a Bad Day.

“Shit, yeah?” Jason dropped his voice to keep his words more between them. “What do you need? I can kick them all out if you need me to.”

“Hey!” Someone at the table protested, followed shortly by a omph and a wheeze. “Ow! Fuck, keep those elbows to yourself.”

Danny quirked a little bit of a smile despite himself and shook his head. He pointed over his shoulder before running the same hand through his hair as if washing it.

Jason nodded. “Okay. You know where the bath salts and things are. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

Danny pressed a grateful kiss to Jason’s lips and practically dashed to the bedroom without a single glance towards the table full of Jason’s friends and maybe even family. That was… it was just too much right then.

-

By the time that Danny was settled into the warm, scented water he had managed to calm down a great deal. He still couldn’t find his words, they were still stuck down deep under his ribs, but he wasn’t in a panic anymore.

(Not having someone about to attack him helped with that, go figure.)

Danny sunk a little further into the luxuriantly large tub and rolled his head slowly this way and that. The rest of the world could wait until tomorrow. All that mattered was what was inside of Jason’s apartment.

Of course, inside the apartment meant Jason’s friends right then, but Danny knew that Jason would let him hide in the bedroom if he wanted to. For the moment, Danny tried not to be worried with figuring out what he wanted. Right then was about relaxing.

[almond-tofuuu]

The one who holds his heart

Zayne x reader

Summary: The new nurse is flirting with Zayne but his heart already belongs to someone else....

Warnings: none, reader is jealous, Zayne and reader are friends, confessions of love, friends to lovers, fluffy ending, possibly ooc Zayne (I just needed to feel happy) not proofread

You weren't jealous.

After all, why should you be? It's not like you and Zayne were anything other than friends, even if it sometimes felt like there was something more between you both. So logically, seeing the new nurse cosying up to Zayne, hand resting on his arm as she batted her eyelashes at him shouldn't have affected you in the slightest. But you couldn't stop the rage bubbling up inside you, knuckles turning white as your grip tightened around the plastic bag in your hand. You and Zayne had agreed to have lunch together today, and you'd even stopped at the bakery he likes to pick up some desserts as a surprise for your hardworking doctor. However, seeing the way this new nurse was flirting with him so blatantly, you'd lost your appetite.

As if sensing your gaze, Zayne's eyes met yours, and he swiftly excused himself from whatever conversation he and the nurse were having, making his way over to you. "You're here, I was beginning to wonder if I was going to be eating alone" his usual teasing did nothing to subdue the jealousy that was clouding your mind, instead it only made things worse.

"Oh really? Cause I'm sure that nurse you were talking to would've been more than happy to keep you company" you huff angrily, tone dripping with sarcasm. Of course, you shouldn't really be taking you're frustration out on Zayne, he didn't actually do anything wrong, but you were too wound up to care.

Zayne's brows furrowed slightly in concern at your comment, but he didn't question it, instead choosing to place a hand on your lower back, lightly guiding you towards his office "come on, let's go eat in my office"

Reluctantly you followed his lead. The walk was short and awkward, neither of you speaking until you arrived at his office, where Zayne was quick to close the door behind you both. With a heavy sigh you turn to face Zayne, tempted to make up an excuse so you could leave and avoid having to be alone with him, but before you could speak, Zayne was already staring at you. Carefully, he approached you, the way one would approach a frightened animal, as if he felt any sudden movements from him would make you bolt. Now standing in front of you, Zayne gently took your hands in his, the coolness of his touch was soothing and you could feel the jealousy from earlier melt away with every stroke of his thumb over your knuckles.

"Now, will you tell me what inspired your little comment earlier?" His was smooth as honey, a tone he reserves only for you, his eyes are focused on yours, his gaze so tender that you have to look away, embarrassed about you're behaviour.

"...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, I just-" you hesitate slightly, unsure whether to tell him the truth, but a reassuring squeeze of your hands gives you the courage you need. "I didn't like the way that nurse was talking to you..." Your cheeks burn and you keep your gaze locked on the floor, too embarrassed to look at Zayne.

For what seems like an eternity, neither of you make a sound, and just as your about to try and leave, the tension becoming too much for you to bear, a light chuckle catches you off guard.

"I thought it was fairly obvious by now, but it would seem you still don't understand. In that case..." Zayne gently tugs on your wrist, pulling you closer until your chest is flush against his, you can feel the hammering of a heart, but it's difficult to tell whether it's yours or his. "Allow me to make it more clear." Zayne softly holds your face, thumb brushing over your cheek before moving down to trace your bottom lip. "I have no interest in that nurse, nor anyone else for that matter. The only one I want is standing right in front of me." His whispered confession leaves you in stunned silence, mouth opening and closing as your short-circuited brain struggles to form a coherent thought. Zayne let's out a soft chuckle, seemingly amused by your reaction, "it would appear my confession has rendered you speechless. Is it really that much of a surprise?"

His light teasing is what finally snaps you out of your trance, clearing your throat in an attempt to lessen your embarrassment, "erm well.... I guess I just never thought you would feel the same way as I do, that's all." Your cheeks burned as you averted your eyes, wanting to hide your flushed face from Zayne, but he was quick to stop you. Hand tilting your chin upwards, your eyes locked with his, their usual icy intensity now replaced with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

"Darling, I've harboured these feelings for you for so long now my heart doesn't know how to love anyone else. As a doctor, I know a great deal about the human body, especially the heart..." Zayne brings one of your hands to his chest, placing it directly over his heart that is pounding just as fast as yours. "But even I can't explain the effect you have on me. I can no longer function without you, your touch is the only thing that can soothe me after a rough day, your voice has ruined even the most beautiful melodies as nothing can compare. I don't just want you. I crave you. My heart belongs to you. In this lifetime and every other. It will always be yours."

[zeltqz]

blackout (nsfw)

In which eren and his ex reconcile during a power outage.

The abrupt knocking on his dorm door startled Eren slightly. He removes his headphones, sliding them down his neck, groaning as he heads towards his front door. He has to use his phone flashlight because there was a power shortage in the university tonight. 

The announcement said that the outage would last the entire night and the head of school “advised” everyone to use the lack of phones, tv etc to their advantage and get a good night’s rest.

Nobody listened of course. But Eren was still confused as to who could be knocking on his door this late. His friends were out for the weekend, renting out a rental to stay at but Eren declined the invite, wanting to study for his exams instead.

The last person he’d expect to see knocking at his door at 10PM was you. He opens the door and greets you with his usual charismatic smile, despite the situation being totally awkward. “Hey……what are you doing here?”

You clench your jaw and close your eyes, as if the question were about to ask was physically painful to ask. Technically it was, but you had no other choice. “...May I sleep over tonight?”

Eren brings a hand up, cupping his ear and asks you to repeat. You glare, telling him to knock it off.

Despite being broken up for almost two months, Eren still won’t ever miss an opportunity to tease you for literally anything. He crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe, “Why do you wanna sleep at mine?”

“Well—you’re the only person I know in this block…so.”

“Hm, or you could just sleep at your own place?”

You look down and scratch your arm, raking your nails along the skin. Eren notices the subtle action, but doesn’t comment on it—only now realising how nervous you look right now.

It’s honestly out of character for you, usually someone that has such a bold mouth, especially around Eren, not afraid to speak your mind and call him out on his bullshit. 

The most Eren has seen from you since the break up was the occasional glare and whenever he does see you smile, it’s not directed at him. So to see you acting this way feels vulnerable almost. 

“This is so embarrassing,” A nervous smile graces your lips as you fiddle with your fingers. “Don’t repeat this to anyone—and don’t laugh when I tell you.” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, already ready to laugh. “Seriously Eren, or I’ll break your toe.”

He chuckles, nodding his head, waiting for you to reveal your super top secret. 

You exhale through your mouth, almost snapping your fingers with how hard you’re gripping onto them right now. “Hey…” Eren reaches out and grabs your hands, separating them from each other before he has to take you to the hospital. “Seriously, what's up? You’re sorta scarin’ me.”

“I’m—I’m sorta…scared of the dark.” You divert your gaze past Eren’s face, finding a sudden interest in the wall instead.

Feeling a little bit relieved it wasn’t something genuinely upsetting and your nervous behavior was only a result of your phobia, he brings a hand up to his mouth, splaying it across his mouth in an obvious attempt to try and stiffen the laughter bubbling in his throat.

“Eren! I wasn’t lying when I said I’d break your toe.” You poke your finger at his chest.

“What if I just blindfold you? What will you do then?” He leans forward to tease you before you shove him away from you, creating a reasonable distance between you two. 

You stare up at him for a second, fighting the mental battle in your brain to slap his stupid face. The only thing stopping you from doing so is the fact you currently need refuge in his dorm because you’re too afraid to go back to your own. 

“Can I stay with you? Just for tonight, please?” You repeat, voice much softer and gentle. His eyes softened for a moment, remembering the other times you’ve spoken to him in that tone was during the happy moments in your relationship. 

He ignores the weird feeling and sudden urge of uncomfortable memories racing through his head and simply steps aside to let you inside. It’s just as dark in his house as it is at your place but due to him having more windows in his place, the darkness isn’t as uncomfortable as your own. 

“Did you eat anything today?” Eren asks, digging through his fridge ready to make you something to eat till he remembers that the stove wouldn’t be working anyway.

“Yeah, I ate like a sandwich for lunch, that’s about it.”

“I have some marshmallows left over from last night if you want some?”

“Marshmellows?” Your laugh is right behind him and he almost jumps a little, not expecting you to be that close. 

“Yeah, uh, Armin got high for the first time and craved marshmallows so—”

“That’s cute.” You smile to yourself, picturing Armin high, “how—um, how is he by the way? Mikasa too?”

Ever since you broke up with Eren, you barely spoke to them despite seeing them almost on a daily basis throughout your two year relationship. 

It was hard not being able to talk to Mikasa for the first couple weeks after the breakup. You’d been going to her for advice because she was the most honest person you’d ever met. She won’t be afraid to tell you what she’s thinking, almost being straight up with you, not caring if the truth hurts your feelings.

Her words did hurt, yes, but it was better than being told lies.

Armin was like your best friend. He was so helpful and whenever Eren fucked up and you both got into an arguement or a disagreement, giving the two of you the best of advice that always got you back together.

“They’re good, yeah.” Eren hands you the bag of marshmellows and you follow behind him as he walks over to the couch in his living room. 

You take a seat on the far edge of the couch, wanting to create some space between you two. Propping your legs up to sit cross legged with the packet between your legs, you struggle to find the opening due to the darkness.

Eren laughs when he hears the packet scrunching around, a clear indication that you’re struggling. “Need help?”

“No—I don’t.” 

Eren shifts a bit closer and you freeze when his thigh brushes against your knee. “Give it here.” You hesitate before complying, handing the box, using what small light your eyes can produce to see him fiddle with it for a moment, then finding the opening easily.

He digs his hand through, pulling out a handful of marshmallows for himself before handing the packet back to you.  “Thank you.” 

The two of you sit and bask in the silence of the room. You try to chew extra slowly, not wanting to make any unnecessary chewing sounds by eating it too fast. 

Eren seems to notice and he snorts into his hand. 

You glance towards him, sending him a look that he can’t see because of two reasons in particular.

One: it’s dark as shit.

Two: his gaze is directed towards his phone.

From what you can see, his brightness is low, but his hands are typing at his keyboard so he must be texting someone. The nosiness inside you builds up and you use the lack of light in the room to your advantage, leaning in slightly just to see who’s he’s texting.

Not that it matters anyway. He can text whoever he wants, you don’t care.

But reading the name, you realise it’s a girl’s name and a part of you instantly regret looking. You’re not even sure why it’s bothering this much, but you shift away from him and divert your attention back onto the candy.

Chewing the soft candy, you silently pray for the power to come back on before tomorrow morning. Being stuck inside with him was driving you literally insane. 

Eren looks up from his phone minutes later, shifting to rest his head on the couch's backrest. He lazily turns his head to face you. “You’ve been hella silent, you alright?”

“‘M fine.” You feel a little sick stuffing your face full of this many marshmallows and the taste is starting to piss you off. Closing the packet, you hand it back to Earen.

He simply looks at it, then raises a brow gently, “What?”

“I’m not hungry no more.” 

Eren nods, taking the box from you then leaning to the side to put it on the other edge of the couch. He sinks back into the couch, bringing out his phone again. 

You can’t help the way your face tightens up, can’t help the press of your lips together as you watch him divert his attention back to that fucking phone. 

A sudden wave of fatigue hits you at that very moment and you hope the marshmallows were laced because that way you could blame your next actions on marijuana. 

You lift his hands up from were they were seated on his lap to free up space, ignoring the confused look on his face when you shift on the couch to lay your head down there. 

Despite the fact that there’s cushions right next to you, something just possesses you to do that. Eren uses one hand to type, subconsciously drumming his fingers along the side of your head, scratching at your scalp gently in a way he used to.

Maybe it was just muscle memory for him, but he remembers your special  spots, the way you tilt your head back to lean further into his embrace.

Eren looks down at you on his lap, he can’t see what facial expression you’re wearing because of the way you’re facing, but from the low hum of your voice, he can tell you enjoy it. “You tired?”

“ Exhausted .” You sigh, shifting onto your back so you could look up at his face. “Why do you still remember that spot?” You groan when he scratches that spot near your baby hairs. 

“How could I ever forget?” He laughs, cautious not to mess up your hair because he knows how much you hate that. “You still got that hair-pulling kink, huh?”

You instantly sit the second he reminds you of that awful moment when he tugged on your hair a little harshly and you moaned. He never let you live that down. “Don’t ever bring that up again.” You point your finger in his face, threatening to poke him in the eye.

He laughs and pushes your hand away from his face. “Okay, I won’t. Just lay back down.” He uses the grip on your hair to push you back down onto his lap but you shake your head and resist, sitting beside him instead. 

“I missed you.” He says after a short moment.

Those words make your throat tighten up. You swear you could feel your heartbeat hammering in your chest, a thump booming against your ear drums. You’d never think three words would affect you this much.

You look away, unable to look him in the eye, not ready to see if his expression was just as soft as his voice. 

You weren’t sure how you felt. The breakup was mutual. Ended on good terms, but you couldn’t help but hate him for how much he affected you. He was on your mind for a good two months after the break up.

Whenever you saw him in public, at the back of your classes, in the cafeteria—your eyes naturally gravitated towards him, like some sort of impulsive reflex.

Two fingers hook onto your chin, turning your face towards him. Your gaze is still looking down, now your eyes are staring at his lap instead of your own. “Can you look at me?” 

Call yourself crazy, but you swear you could detect a slight hint of desperation in his voice, masked off as nonchalance. You shake your head almost too quickly, removing his fingers from your chin. “Don’t try to reel me back in, Eren. It’s over, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” How could I forget? Eren misses when just moments ago, you were willing to fall down that memory train. It’s awkwardly silent now as the two of you sit there. “You still tired?”

“Yeah.” You slide off the couch, dusting off your clothes. “Could I take a shower and…sleep over if the power doesn’t come back tonight?”

Eren can’t help the way his mind wanders back to your naked body, even in the darkness of the room, he can still see your figure perfectly, outlining and blending in with the shadows.

“Eren?”

He blinks twice, realising he hadn’t answered your question yet. “Yeah?”

“I asked if I could sleep over if the power doesn’t come back on.”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t mind.”

The confirmation was all you needed to get out of this tense awkward situation. You made your way down the hallway, hands out around you to touch any surrounding objects that might be blocking your path.

He watches you, eyes half lidded, lips curling up into a mischievous smirk as he hears your footsteps half at the end of the hallway, phobia of the dark coming into high gear when you realise he wasn’t accompanying you to the bathroom like you’d hoped.

The footsteps start up again and before he knows it, you’re back in front of him in record time, tugging at the hem of his shirt while looking down at the floor, embarrassed that it has to come to this. You mumble something under your breath, voice sort of meek and shy, one that you used to use on him back when you were dating and you needed something.

“Hm, what’s the matter, baby?” He faux pouts, grabbing your hand tugging on his shirt and pulling it away from him. 

“Could—” You pause, thinking of a right way to word your sentence without indirectly stroking his ego, “May you please accompany me to the bathroom?”

“You’re such a baby,” he states, playfully wrapping his arms around your shoulder, tugging you close to his chest in the process as he proceeds to lead you down the hallway to his bathroom. “Want me to stay in the bathroom while you shower too?”

“No, you perv.” You push him away from you and enter the bathroom. Halfway through taking off your pants, you realise you didn’t have any pyjamas. You would have brought some too but wanted to save the humiliation in case Eren didn’t allow you inside.

You wander over to the shower, turning it on for a couple seconds and running your fingers through the shower head water. It’s cold. “...Hey Eren, how long does it take for the water to turn hot?”

“The shower’s been pretty janky lately, I think Mikasa broke it actually. Anyway, you gotta jiggle the thingy and push.” 

“...What?” You blink at the wall for a couple seconds, trying to understand what the ‘ thingy ’ you’re supposed to jiggle is. You laugh to yourself, wondering why you even thought Eren was a reliable source for information.

Eren, who was just about to lay down on his bed, sighs and stands up. The bathroom door opens abruptly and you yelp and scream in surprise. “Eren?! Ever heard of knocking!?”

“Shut up, nothing I haven’t seen before. Oh wait, I can’t see shit.” 

You roll your eyes at his horrible attempt at a joke. Your cheeks heat up at the realisation of the first part of his sentence, mind automatically registering all the mind blowing astronomical sex the both of you used to have. 

“Okay, whatever, just jiggle the ‘thingy’ and let me take a shower.” Before you could step aside and let Eren do all the jingling, his chest is against your back, his hands holding your wrists firmly to guide you on how to fix the showers.

Your face feels hot as he’s telling you the instructions, hands pressing into yours as he pushes the—to be fair you have no clue what you’re currently pushing because one, its dark and you can’t see jackshit, and two, you can’t focus on anything because of how close he is right now.

His voice is going in one ear and out the other, your mind nodding and humming ‘mhm’ despite you not understanding anything. Eventually you snap out of it and actually focus on what he’s saying. 

You lean forward a little bit to jiggle the knob whilst the other feels the temperature of the water, waiting for it to turn hot. 

“‘Kay, now push in.” You do as he instructs and the hot water almost burns your hand. 

“Ow, shit!” You pull back abruptly, bumping back into Eren whilst flinging your hand to try and air dry it.

Eren’s hands land on your waist to steady you. “You good?”

“Yeah, just burnt the shit out of my hand, fuck.” It stings whenever you apply pressure to it and it’s making you squirm. 

Unbeknownst to Eren, he has no clue that you’re currently naked in front of him until he digs his fingers harder into your waist to steady you.

“Stop moving, wait, c’mere—” He tries not to focus on your ass currently pressing back on his dick and leads you towards the sink to run your hand under cold water. “You’re so stupid sometimes.”

“Says you! Who even showers at that temperature, who do you think you are?” You elbow him in the ribs, basking in his choked laughter. 

“I thought girls love hot showers?”

“Oh, so you intentionally made it super hot to get girls? Never thought you’d stoop that low Eren—ow!” You yelp when he switches taps, turning the cold one off and the hot one on. “You’re such a dick!”

“Just to you.” He leans down to whisper it in your ear before getting elbows in the ribs again.

“Now get out, you tormented me enough, I need to shower.” 

“If you need company—” Your vision is blinded when he covers both your eyes with hands, “just call for me, kay?”

“Eren, get out.” You elbow him once more in order for him to get the message to leave. You don’t hop in the shower till you hear the door shut. With your newfound knowledge on how to work his mystery shower, you hop inside. 

Eren lays down on his bed, enjoying the darkness in the room as his mind wanders. He can practically hear his heart pounding through his chest and eardrums. To confirm his suspicions, he places a hand down on his heart.

“Fucking hell.” He groans into his pillow, hating how his heart is currently beating fast as if he’d just ran a marathon, simply because he got to touch your waist. He’s acting like a goddamn virgin and he needs to accept the fact that you two are over. 

The water stops running and he’s too deep into his thoughts to hear you call his name, asking for spare clothes. It’s not until you open the bathroom door, padding towards him with wet feet and a towel on, then he looks up.

“Eren, I said I need clean clothes.”

Thanks to the window inside his bedroom, the darkness is alleviated slightly, making it very obvious you’re in just a towel. “Can’t you just wear this to sleep?” He tugs on the tip of your towel, tugging it slightly whilst rubbing the soft material between his thumb and index finger.

“Stop…you perv.” You tug his hands off, “Give me clean clothes.”

“My clothes won’t fit yo—wait, gimme a spin.” 

You raise your head to shoot him a withering glare, then decide the only way you’re going to get clothed is by doing as he says, so you comply, giving him a slight 360.

“Yeah, they definitely won’t fit you.”

“Shut up, give me the clothes. I’ll manage.” You rub your wet shoulders with your palms as you watch him retreat over to his closest, then before you know it—or before you could dodge it, a plain black t-shirt is being thrown at your face.

“Thank you.” You say with a blank face, trying to hide the fact that you’re never going to give him the shirt back.

Ever .

It smells way too good.

Using the darkness to your advantage, you strip the towel off almost immediately and quickly change into the shirt. “I need pants.”

“You definitely don’t.”

“Eren.”

He clicks his tongue at the stern tone of your voice and tosses a pair of shorts in your direction. It falls somewhere on the floor and you kick around to feel for it, then put them on. You climb onto the bed, making sure to sit at the far end of it to create some distance between you both.

You hear Eren’s footsteps pad around the room, then the sound of the door opening. “Hey wait, where are you going?”

“Downstairs?” He says it like it was obvious, “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“No.”

No? Eren tilts his head confused, “What?”

“No, I mean…stay—” you pat the spot on the bed next to you, “please?”

Fuck, how could he resist that?

He climbs onto the bed next to you. You’re both facing opposite directions and a cold draft might’ve slapped you in the fact with the sudden coldness in the room. 

Eren’s a little shocked when he feels your body press up against his own, but doesn’t complain. Why would he? He wraps his bicep around your body, pulling you towards him. 

You’re grateful for the darkness for once as you smile into the pillow at the feeling of his hands tracing shapes into your stomach, as if to help you relax and get to sleep.

His fingers test the waters, seeing how far he can take this before you snap at him, dipping his fingers even lower, brushing against the waistband of the shorts he lended you, a single finger dipping inside.

Eren waits for you to snap at him, or nudge him with your elbow, telling him to knock it off…but it doesn’t come. Maybe you’ve fallen asleep?

He keeps his hands there for a moment, retreating after around thirty seconds of leaving it there, not wanting to touch you while you’re asleep.

Your hand darts out to stop him before he could fully remove his fingers from your shorts. “Don’t tease me like that, Yeager.”

“Oh? You want it?” He’s pressing up against you again, not shy in how close he can get to you this time. He enters his hand inside your shorts to realise you’re not even wearing panties. 

These shorts officially became his favourite pair of shorts.

Your grip on the pillow tightens when he brushes your folds with a rough yet gentle touch, placing his chin on your shoulder so he can hear the way your breathing speeds up.

Biting back a moan, your fingers dig intoo the fabric of the pillow when he rubs your clit in smooth circles. “F—fuck—” 

“Hm, you like that? You want more?” He whispers directly into your ear, breath hot and ready by your eardrum, tickling you.

“Y-yes please—fuck—” Your erratic breathing turns into soft moans when he dips a single finger inside, stroking against your walls. 

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

“...Kiss me, please.” You manage to choke out when he curls his finger inside you.

Using his spare hand, he grips onto your chin and pulls your head back so he can slot his mouth against yours. You almost crack your neck with how far you’re leaning back in order to kiss him, but you don’t care. 

He smiles because he knows you’re just as desperate for this as he is. He pulls away from the kiss, moving hair out of your face and watches the way your eyes linger a little too long on his lips. 

“Staring won’t solve anything y’know?” He mutters the words against your lips, piercing green eyes staring into your own as if he’s hypnotising you to initiate the kiss this time. 

He looks down at the sheets where his hands are moving inside you, making sure he curls his fingers just the right way to have you clinging to his shoulders, wrapping your arms around him tighter as you melt against him. 

“I missed you s’much—” You mumble as you tip forward to kiss him, which takes no effort at all, not when he’s already ready and waiting for you.

His lips are soft and plump, the way they always were. He moves with confidence, moulding your lips so consistently against yours, licking into your mouth with the surety of someone who knows how to make people into putty with his kisses alone.

He laughs when you squirm, melting into the pillow, dragging him down with you, subconsciously spreading your legs wider to give him room to slot himself between.

“I fucking knew it.” 

“Knew what?” You peck him, looking up at him in confusion.

“Knew you wanted me all along,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, all wet and messy, “Knew that whole angry ex girlfriend thing was just a faux,” he sloppily sucks your neck, making obnoxious noises and lifting your his shirt up along the way.

You run hot all over, angry that he saw right through your act. “Shut up.”

“You embarrassed?” He bites the skin above your breast and you moan, hand holding up the shirt high enough to give him more access. “Shy cause I saw right through you—”

He groans when you tug his hair as a response, trying to get him to shut up. “If you keep talking, I will leave—”

“And go where? Hm?” He runs his nose against yours, brushing it ever so slightly. You curl your lip up in annoyance, hating how he got you beat right now. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, bending down to kiss you again, trailing his lips down the length of your jaw, nipping and sucking along your throat recklessly.

You bunch his hair up to avoid it falling onto his face as he marks up your chest, sucking along your breasts with ease. He reaches your nipples and tugs on it with his teeth before looking up at you with a sheepish smile. “Did that hurt?”

“No.”

“Still no pain tolerance I see.” He licks a nipple, sucking on it ever so gently.

“It’s been like two months since we broke up, ‘Ren.” You look down and wonder if he’s even listening to you right now, mind elsewhere as he licks down your stomach, slowly making his way between your legs. 

“Didja sleep with anyone else?” He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if kissing you is the equivalent to exercise right now. With how fast his heart is pumping right now, he might as well be working out.

“I don’t see how that's your business.” 

“You did, didn’t you?” He looks back down at your stomach, pressing open mouthed kisses to your skin. His grip on your thighs tighten with your silence as a dead giveaway. “Well how was it then?”

You decide to just tell him the truth, knowing that you staying silent with fuel into his ego regardless. “It wasn’t good.”

“Mmm, and why is that?” He spreads your legs wider, sucking on the fat there all the whilst maintaining eye contact with you. 

He knows the answer, and you know he knows the answer. With a sigh, you begin, “...because they couldn’t make me cum.”

He snickers against your thighs, digging crescent shaped moons into your skin. “And who could make you cum?”

“Eren, can we not have this conversation right now?” You’re distracted momentarily when he tugs your shorts down hastily, using two fingers to spread your folds apart. Even in the dark, he can see the glistening shine of your slick and runs a finger through it, brushing your clit with the tip of his nail.

You shiver on impact, moaning when he slides his finger into your mouth, sucking on it as he lifts himself up from between your legs. He pops his finger out before slotting it inside his own mouth, enjoying the taste of your saliva mixed with your own juices. 

“You’re so nasty.” You mutter watching the filthy act, hiding your embarassment by the fact it turns you on seeing how much he loves your taste. 

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it, babe.” 

You hate how he can see through you so easily despite even trying. “Don’t call me babe.”

He smiles, bending down to your ear as he whispers, “My bad babe.” His tongue darts out, licking at your earlobe, enjoying how you shudder underneath him, tugging on your ear with his teeth.

“Stop it…” You push at his chest in a desperate attempt to get him away from you. He’s slowly messing with your emotions with all these nicknames and you aren’t sure if you’re even going to be together after this. “Just fuck me, please. Before I change my mind.”

“I finally got you back in my arms and you think I’m not gonna take my time?” He chuckles, sliding back down the bed and pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. “You’re fuckin’ soaked .” He dives his finger back inside you, twisting and feeling every inch of your walls clamping down on him. 

He looks fascinated, watching his finger knuckle deep between your legs, leaning forward to snake his tongue out to clean up the mess sliding down your slit the harder the fucks you.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, hand sliding down your body to grip at his hair. He grunts when you tug at it with no regard for his pain scalp, muttering ‘ohmygod’ under your breath the longer he flicks at your clit with his tongue.

“Taking my fingers so well, babe.” He mumbles, kissing at your clit, stretching you effortlessly whilst simultaneously sliding your legs inwards to lift your lower body a little higher. “You want another?” He tickles your hole with a second finger, waiting for the go.

“Yes please.” You moan into your palm, using the tips of his hair to push his head further into your pussy. “Eren—” you pant, wiggling your hips to the side, arching your back off the mattress, body melting into the pleasure.

“Yeah?” He sucks your clit, enjoying watching you squirm underneath him. “What’s up?” He says so casually as if he’s not drinking your juices from your pussy.

“I want—mmm—please.” You know your words are not even audible right now, non translatable to his ears. 

“What’s mmm?” He mocks your incoherent vocabulary and if he wasn’t the cause for your pleasure right now, you would’ve knocked him in the head with your feet. 

He groans when you clench around his fingers, realising your about to cum, he pulls his fingers out, using the wetnress to rub against his red throbbing cock. You watch, hynoptised and vision hazy as he fists at his cum, squeezing precum from the tip with each stroke. Flicking your eyes up to his face, he’s watching your pussy flutter, too eager to take his cock. “You want it?”

“Yes.” You whimper, hooking your feet around his legs to pull him closer. “Please.”

“Fuck—” He groans again, rubbing his cock against your cunt. Eren slicks his cock through your folds, smiling when he sees your eyes squeeze shut upon stretch. “What? Can’t take it?” He hovers over you, holding himself up with his arms on either side of your head, “Is it too much for you?”

You shake your head, counting to five in your head before slowly opening your eyes, slightly startled because you didn’t expect him to be this close to you. “No, no—I can take it, just please don’t stop.”

His hand smacks against your thigh, relishing in your yelp as he smoothes his palm along the red sting. “Stay still, it’ll be quicker.”

“Okay.” You swallow, trying your hardest to stay completely still as he moves his hips forward, sheathing himself inside your warmth slowly. 

“Shit, you feel so fucking good.” He shifts his hips, making his cock twitch inside you. You can feel it, feel every inch of him the further he sheathes himself inside. 

He hooks your legs over his shoulder, sliding himself deep enough that you almost scream and grab onto the headboard of his bed. “Eren—I—” Biting your lip, you roll your eyes back, leaning further into the pillow.

There’s something about the darkness of the room that makes the experience even more sexier. He looks down at his cock disappearing between your legs and gives a soft experimental thrust just to see how you’ll react. You moan, of course, loudly. That’s always something he loved about you, how you were unable to control yourself around him, especially your volume whenever he fucked you.

“Oh my g-god.” You whisper when he starts his thrusts, hitting inside you so deep it’s overwhelming. 

His grunts only turn you on more, splaying his hand out on your stomach as he fucks into you, not caring about how loud the two of you are being. He knows his fellow classmates next door are gonna yell at him in the morning for the volume but he can focus on that later.

Now? All he cares about is you. He presses down on your stomach, making sure you feel his cock driving into your walls, making sure its extra sensitive for you, just so he can hear your moans even louder.

“So—fuckin’ —tight,” he mutters, eyes straight to the sight of his dick fucking in and out of you at a rapid pace. He wishes the lights were on right now so he could see how your slick clings to his shaft. His eyes land on his phone by his pillow next to your head and grabs it without thinking, turning on the flash and shining it at the scene below him.

“Look how fuckin’ wet you are, baby.” 

You use the little energy he hasn’t fucked out of your body yet to sit on your elbows, eyes narrowing in on the sight in front of you, how your slick coats his cock with each thrust. You knew you were wet, after all you could feel it and hear it, but to see it? Damn.

“Eren—I wanna cum—” You toss the phone away, both of you not caring how it tumbles to the floor, and wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down to kiss you, “please let me cum, need it Eren, please.”

“Shit,” he licks into your mouth, wrapping his lips around your tongue and sucking obnoxiously, “Cum for me baby.”

You scream his name, voice shaking as your walls cling to him desperately, milking him for all he’s got. He buries himself deep inside you, rolling his hips ever so slightly and swears as he empties his cock in you, fucking a wet mixture of both your cum back inside you with short thrusts.

Your legs are so sensitive that they shake, twitch and spasm with each thrust he gives. “Eren—I—” 

“I know baby, I know.” He kisses your forehead as he drops to your side, making sure he doesn’t fall on top of you. He wraps his arms around you, bringing you to rest on his chest. “Get some sleep, ‘kay?” 

“Okay,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and closing your eyes before drifting off to sleep.

When the two of you wake up in the morning, the lights are back on. The ceiling fan spinning around and Eren’s desk light on and bright. You rub your eyes with the heel of your palm, lifting yourself off his chest. Eren is sleeping soundly underneath you, his eyes closed shut, lips slightly parted and nose wrinkling every now and then.

You lean forward, flicking some hair strands away from his face to get a better view. He’s so beautiful, honestly. You’ll never get tired looking at him.

His dorm door opens but you don’t hear it because your senses are all busy scanning Eren’s face from head to toe. Armin enters the room, rubbing his eyes exhaustedly, only to freeze when he sees a half naked you on top of his half naked best friend. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” 

You turn your head to the left to see the door instantly slam shut. The noise causes Eren to wake up, sitting up abruptly and you almost fall off him. “What was that?”

“I think Armin’s back…”

Eren yawns, shrugging his shoulders and rolling his neck to the side to get rid of that morning tension. “The lights are back.”

“I can see that.”

“You’re not gonna leave?”

“What if I don’t want to leave?”

The two of you stare at each other for what seems like ages. Eren can’t help but wonder if your question has multiple implications behind it, meanwhile you wait for him to get the reference but when it looks like he’s struggling you sigh and roll your eyes. “It means I want to get back together, stupid.”

“I fucking knew it.” He grabs onto you, pinning you back down onto the bed. He kisses your forehead, rubbing his thumbs along your cheekbone. You smile up at him, leaning forward to press your forehead against his own. “This time,” he starts, brushing his thumb against your lips, “I won’t fuck up.”

“I know.” You kiss him, just a peck before pulling away. “I trust you.”

You’re about to kiss again when you hear claps from the other end of the doorway. 

“Armin get the fuck out!” Eren yells.

“Sorry!! I’ll leave you two alone” Congrats, by the way!!” He yells out before hurriedly rushing out of the dorm.

Eren rolls his eyes, bringing his attention back to you. “Sorry about him.”

“It’s fine.” You run your eyes down your boyfriend's face and body, just now realising he’s shirtless. “...Wanna go for round 2?

[gunnerfc]

Stuck | Alexia Putellas x Barça!Reader

summary: you get stuck in an elevator with your ex-girlfriend who you haven't spoken to since the break up

warnings: a tad suggestive and angsty

wc: 1352

author note: all translations are from google, sorry if they aren't 100% accurate!!

You sighed as you slammed your car door, the exhaustion from training having affected you more than normal. Perhaps it was because your mind was busy racing with thoughts of your ex-girlfriend and how upset you were with her rather than football. Entering the lobby of your building, too engrossed in responding to a text message from Patri to see you weren’t the only person waiting for the elevator.

“Tienes que estar bromeando. (you got to be kidding me.)” you heard a familiar voice huff as the elevator arrived. 

You glanced up from your phone, coming face to face with the person who's been clouding your thoughts. You rolled your eyes at the midfielder, moments like these are the downfalls of living in the same building as Alexia.

You ignored her comment as you both entered the elevator, hitting your respective floor numbers. The two of you stood as far away as you could in the enclosed space, both still too pissed at the other to even make small talk about training or the upcoming weekend game. 

The elevator made it seven floors from the lobby before you felt it jerk and halt in its place. The lights flickered off before coming back on. You and Alexia shared a concerned glance as you both realized the elevator got stuck. Of course, you would get stuck in an elevator with your ex-girlfriend who refused to even talk to you after the breakup.

“ay dios mío. (oh my god.)” you heard the blonde mumbled, irritation laced her words.

You mocked her words quietly already over your current predicament. From the corner of your eye, you saw Alexia look your way, anger written all over her face.

“¿Tiene usted un problema? (do you have a problem?)” Alexia growled, not wanting to be here anymore than you do. 

“Sí, estoy atrapada aquí contigo. (yeah, I'm stuck in here with you.)” You responded, your words coming out harsher than you meant, but you didn’t care how they affected Alexia.

The two of you have yet to have any sort of conversation post break-up unless it was on the pitch, but even then it was never more than what was needed. Alexia wouldn’t give you a chance to ask why she had broken up with you, which just added to your anger towards the captain. Alexia had decided to break up with you on what seemed like a whim, ending the two-year relationship like it meant nothing to her.

Alexia didnt respond, instead making an effort to call the lobby to let them know the elevator was stuck. The quicker it gets moving again, the quicker she can get away from you. She knew it wasn’t fair to at least give you an explanation for breaking up with you, but even she knew her answer would be stupid. Alexia was nervous about people potentially finding out about your relationship and thought the best thing to do was just end the relationship. She knew it was dumb but she couldn’t tell you that. Instead, she let you hate her.

You, in your best effort to ignore the blonde, went back to the conversation you were having Patri. It wasn’t helping though, hearing Alexia angrily talk to the man on the other end of the phone was doing something to you. You hadn't been with anyone since the breakup and it was starting to mess with you. Maybe had you taken Ona’s advice of hooking up with someone one time, you wouldn't be so affected by your ex-girlfriend.

Alexia huffed as she hung up, clearly in a worse mood after the call. You tried to keep your eyes locked on your phone and not Alexia’s clenched jaw. You gave her a good two minutes, thinking she would at least tell you what was said, but it never came.

“Well?” you broke the silence, seeing as the midfielder was not going to.

Alexia turned her head slightly towards you, an eyebrow raised as if she wasn't expecting you to speak, almost as if she had forgotten you were also stuck in the elevator. 

“Están trabajando en eso. No saben cuándo se solucionará. (they are working on it. they do not know when it will be fixed.)” the blonde stated, the anger ever present in her voice. You roll your eyes, though not directed at her but at the lack of information surrounding your situation.

“Si sigues haciendo eso, se quedarán atascados. (if you keep doing that, they will get stuck.)” Alexia chastised, eyes focused on the door of the elevator.

“¿Te importaría? (would you care?)” you shot back, irritation starting to grow the longer you stand in the unmoving elevator.

“Y/N…” the blonde groaned, knowing that the two of you could go on for days arguing with each other. 

As frustration grew between the two of you, so did the pent-up tension of not speaking and unanswered questions. You went back and forth in your mind, debating if you should ask Alexia why she broke up with you now that she had no way of leaving.

"seeing as we have nothing else to do, will you finally tell me why you broke up with me?" you didn't bother switching languages, knowing the blonde would understand what you asked.

"¿Podemos por favor no hacer esto, y/n? (can we please not do this, y/n?)" Alexia said, throwing her head back with a groan. 

"¿por qué no? No es que tengamos nada más que hacer. (why not? It’s not like we have anything else to do) " you quickly responded, fully turning to face your ex-girlfriend. 

Alexia lifted her head back and turned to face you and it seemed like the walls were closing in the longer the two of you held eye contact.

"no." 

"sí."

"no!"

"ye-" You weren't able to keep the argument going as your back was suddenly up against the side of the elevator. 

Alexia's hands were tightly holding your waist, keeping you locked between her body and the wall of the elevator. you struggled to control your breathing, having missed having her hands on you. 

Alexia's lips moved closer to yours, giving you time to push her away if you wanted to. Instead, you moved a hand to the back of her neck, pulling her into a searing kiss. The weeks of being apart evident in how heated the kiss was. The grip Alexia had on your waist tightened, pulling a small moan from your lips. 

Alexia’s lips moved their way over your jaw and down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and small nips as she went. Your head was tilted back against the siding you pressed against, small pants leaving your mouth as Alexia left love bites wherever she wanted. 

Just as she pulled her away from your back, the elevator jolted to life, but neither of you made an effort to move away from each other. Alexia’s hands remained on your waist, your hand that was around her neck moving to rest against her chest. You could feel how fast her heart was beating under your palm. You could feel your own heart beating just as fast and you sure Alexia was aware as well.

The elevator dinged as it reached Alexia’s floor, she lived two floors down from you. As the doors opened, the blonde made no effort to detach herself from you. Alexia had taken too long to exit the elevator as the doors started to close again. 

Before they could fully close, Alexia moved to stick her hand in between them, forcing them open once more. Now standing in between the doors, halfway in the elevator, halfway in the hallway, the blonde stuck her hand out for you to take.

“¿quieres seguir? (do you want to continue?)” Alexia offered, a small smirk gracing her lips.

You took her hand without thinking letting her lead you down the familiar hallway, you could be angry at her the midfielder tomorrow. Right now, you were more concerned with the ache between your legs and how Alexia was going to take care of it.

[evera-era]

heal me. (pt 3)

ellie williams x f!reader pt 1, pt 2

warnings: nervous/cutesy ellie, fluff, yearning, eventual kissing !!

a/n: no mentions of medic stuff this time bc i wanted reader to enjoy life outside of that. also i’m sorry for putting this off, i just wasn’t sure how i felt ab it </3 but here’s the final part !!

“Wow… you really do have the whole collection.” You murmur, lightly grazing your fingertips over the spines of Ellie’s comics.

It was the first time you had been to her house. Well… garage. She wasn’t exactly proud of it either, but it was homely.

“Pretty cool, huh?” She says, watching you. “I’ve probably read it about a dozen times already.”

You smiled, turning and looking at her over your shoulder. She shifts on her bed.

“Didn’t know you were a geek.”

“A- A geek?” She stutters, raising her eyebrows. “Wow, okay. Ouch.”

You both laughed, and you bit down on your lip. “It’s not a bad thing. Geeks are cute.”

You turned to look back at her bookshelf as Ellie’s face flushes. She knew you were flirting with her — it was obvious you were flirting with her — but she didn’t know what to do next.

“Mind if I read the second one while I’m here?” You ask, pulling the sandwiched comic out of its spot.

“Go for it,” She says, pulling her converse off her feet. “You can come sit over here. I mean — if, if you want.”

You grinned, spinning on your heel before plopping yourself on her bed. It was soft, and surprisingly comfy.

“Hey, this isn’t fair.”

“What?” She says, eyes widening.

“Your bed. It’s so nice,” You comment, looking up at her. “How do you just casually have the best bed, like, ever?”

The redhead laughs. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“I’m not even kidding,” You sigh. “God. I could sleep here forever.”

As you turn the page and begin reading, Ellie can’t help but look over at you. You were inches away from her, on her bed, in her bedroom. And you said you wanted to sleep next to her. It felt surreal.

She swears she could probably die happy right about now.

About ten minutes pass, and Ellie clears her throat. “So, uh, how are you liking it so far?”

“It’s really good,” You say, still holding the book up. “I think I could get into this series… if you’ll let me, of course.”

“Y-Yeah,” She says quickly. “Yeah, of course. Uh, whenever you want.”

You smiled gently before looking over at her.

“Hey, Ellie?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask. “Or… boyfriend? Sorry. Should’ve asked.”

Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. “G-Girlfriend. And uh, no, not currently.”

“So you’re seeing someone?” You question.

“No— No, sorry. I meant… that I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh.” You say simply, before returning to the comic. Her head swarms as she tries to figure out your intentions.

Was that was your way of telling her you liked her? Shit, or were you just being friendly? She couldn’t tell. She didn’t wanna read into it wrong.

A few more minutes pass as she looks down at you. “Um… and you?”

“Huh?” You say, looking up from the book. “Me?”

“Y-Yeah. Do… you have someone?”

“No,” You say. “I’d be surprised if anyone even liked me. I mean… I’m not all that. But you? You get to go on patrol and look all badass and stuff.”

Ellie blushes, looking down at the ground. “You— you look good, too. Better. I meant… better.”

She wants to kick herself. Why does she sound so stupid when she wants to flirt back?

Nonetheless, you took the compliment with a smile. “Thanks, Ellie.”

Ellie gives a thin-lipped smile, desperately hoping she was better at putting her thoughts into words. And that she wasn’t a total dork.

The two of you had spent the next few hours in her room. The sun slowly began to lower in the sky, painting her window blinds a pale shade of gray. You had gone through two comics at most, as you had spent half of your time speaking to her instead of actually reading.

“Alright,” You nudged her knee. “It’s your turn to tell me a story.”

“Alright, alright.” She pauses. “I have a good one. It’s about my friend Jesse.”

“Okay. Shoot,” You reply, looking up at her.

You realized that you enjoyed watching her. More than anyone you had ever met.

There was a sparkle she got in her eyes when she was excited about something, and her nose would scrunch whenever she described something she didn’t like. It was cute and adorable and god, you wanted more of her.

“…And so while me and Dina were sledding, he slips and absolutely busts his ass.” At this point, Ellie’s smiling, making grand hand gestures as she explains.

“I’m talkin’ full on, face first into the fucking snow! It was hilarious, and—“

She notices your staring, and immediately clears her throat. “Uh... are— are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You say, pushing yourself up from the position you were laying in. You scoot closer, so you’re hovering over her face.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, looking into her eyes. When you’re met with silence, you close your eyes, mentally scolding yourself.

“Sorry… was that awkward?” You cover your face with your hands. “That was awkward, wasn’t it? N-Nevermind. I swear I was listening—“

For a moment, you were worried that maybe you had come on too strong. That just as you began to make a new friend, you had pushed her away, in a rather embarrassing manner. But your fears dissipate when you feel the warmth of her hands on yours.

She peels your hands away from your face, holding them gently. Her fingers were nimble, and rather coarse, but her touch is near electrifying.

“Please,” She whispers, barely audible. And before you have the chance to lean in, her lips have already hit yours.

Ellie’s kiss is desperate; it was something she had been wanting to do since she had first met you. And inside, she’s ecstatic, because she never thought you’d ask her to.

Her lips are warm, and encompassing, and her breath is shallow against your face. She goes slowly as to burn this memory into her brain.

When the two of you pull away, it’s quiet. You were worried if maybe you had changed the dynamic too quickly, but then she speaks.

“I… I really wanted that.” She says softly. You smile, nodding.

“Yeah. Me too.”

You turn your head away in an attempt to ease the fluttering in your chest. Ellie’s eyes are still on you, and she reaches out to brush a stray piece of hair away from your neck.

Your eyes land on the comic cover, and you laugh halfheartedly.

“I, um, barely finished it.” You utter. “The book.”

“Oh,” She says, raising her brows. “You… you can take some more with you, if you want. So you can read them.”

You shrug, looking back over at her.

“Or maybe I can just come back over here.” You add. “So I can read them with you?”

Ellie’s heart skips a beat, and she quickly nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s— great.”

You got up from her bed, putting the comics back. When you turn around, you press your lips together, looking off to the side.

“One condition, though.”

“Hm?” She says, looking back over at you.

“I come over as your girlfriend… not your friend.” You say shyly. “It’s my only rule.”

Ellie grins, standing up from the bed as well. She approaches you slowly.

“Well… you’re leaving as my girlfriend… aren’t you?”

“Am I?” You smile coyly, putting your arms around her neck. “This your way of asking me out?”

Ellie nods, face flushed. She thought it was cute, and a little funny, that you had casually assumed she went around kissing people she wasn’t into. She considered herself way too much of a loser to accomplish something like that.

You giggle a bit.

“Okay, then. Yeah, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Her girlfriend. Her girl. Ellie can’t help but feel fuzzy at the thought of it.

It sounded good — it sounded right, rolling off of your tongue. She truly couldn’t wait to have you around her arm, walking with you around town.

Ellie doesn’t say anything else, merely smiles bashfully as you lean in to kiss her again.

And even though she couldn’t be sure of the future, she’s sure that in this moment, she wouldn’t wanna be with anyone else besides you.

[such-expensive-mistakes]

Superpham AU (part 7)

Masterpost

A short one today, but I thought this section was funny (until it got sad again).

-----

It’s a quiet evening in the Lane-Kent household: Lois is trying to turn her notes into an article, Clark is going over Jon’s math homework, and Jon is watching a show Lois is only half-following.  It features lots of gunfire and explosions, though Lois’s— unfortunately extensive— experience with witnessing real violence makes the version on TV look cartoonish.  She suspects that is part of the show’s appeal.

Danny is paying about as much attention to the TV as Lois is, engrossed in something on his phone.  At least he’s in the same room as the rest of them, instead of sequestering himself away.

“Hey Lois?” Danny suddenly asks.

Lois looks up from her work.  “What’s up?”

“Did you know the internet thinks you’re Superman’s girlfriend?”

Lois knows that if she looks at Clark, he’ll be turning red, the way he always does whenever this particular subject comes up.  Lois herself is barely holding back a laugh.  Jon’s wrinkling his nose, looking thoroughly embarrassed by his parents.

“Well, I am,” she says, barely keeping herself composed.

“No, I mean—” Danny begins.

“You mean people say that I’m dating Superman and married to Clark?”  Lois glances at Clark, who is now hiding his face in his hands.  “Someone forgot to check for cameras after rescuing me a few years back, and we got caught kissing on film.  It was let people think Superman is a homewrecker or let them think I’m in a polyamorous relationship with my husband and his alter ego.”  

“That’s… really weird.”  Danny is giving her the kind of judgmental look only teenagers can give.  

Lois does laugh at that.  “It is, a bit.  But it helps protect Clark’s secret identity, so I don’t mind.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Clark finally says.  “There were other ways to handle that situation; she just thinks this is funny.”

“Even your parents think it’s funny,” Lois says.  Clark just sighs, faux-aggrieved.  

“It’s not even the weirdest thing on the internet about Superman,” Danny says.  “It’s just the weirdest thing everyone agrees is true.”

“Please do not tell me what else you’ve found,” Clark says.  

“You can tell me,” Lois says.  “We can just make Clark leave for a bit.”  Reading conspiracy theories about Superman is her guilty pleasure, though if anyone asks, she does it to keep tabs on anyone who might have a viable way of hurting him.  

Danny just laughs, and something in Lois’s chest seizes up.  Is this the first time she’s heard him laugh since he came back?  She thinks it might be.

She doesn’t want to call attention to it; like as not, that would just make him pull away again.  Instead she says, “Superman doesn’t even get the best conspiracy theories.  Those are all Batman.”  That’s because Bruce purposefully cultivates them, of course, but that’s not important.

“Which one is he, again?” Danny asks.  

It’s not that Lois ever forgets that Danny has spent most of his life in another dimension.  But little offhand comments like that… they really drive it home.  There are plenty of superheroes, even Justice League members, that most of the general public has never heard of— but Batman is not one of them.

She's saved from answering by Clark.

"You'll meet him eventually," Clark says.  "He's a good friend of mine.  And Jon and Kon are close to his two youngest sons, Robin and Red Robin."

Danny nods thoughtfully.  "Right.  I think Red Robin's in the group chat Kon added me to."

Lois reminds herself to thank Kon next time she sees him.  He and Danny seem to have connected, and Kon seems to have made it his personal mission to keep Danny from slipping too far into one of his funks again.

"Speaking of Kon," Clark begins.  "Ma and Pa want to know when we'll be able to make it to Smallville to visit."

They've been trying not to overwhelm Danny by introducing him to too many new people at once, but maybe that was the wrong choice.  Maybe they should be pushing him to get out more, to connect with this dimension.  Besides, Kon spends most of his time in Smallville, and they already know that he and Danny get along.

Lois re-evaluates the article she’s been working on.  Perry would probably appreciate it sooner rather than later, but if she turns in a smaller article this week, she can probably swing a weekend off.  If not, she can always work on it from Kansas.

“This weekend should work,” Lois says.  “If that’s alright with you, Danny.”

Danny looks a little surprised to be consulted.  “I— yeah, that works.  Not like I have anywhere else to be.”  He laughs a little, but the joke falls flat, and Lois resolves to double down on helping Danny connect with more people here in this dimension.

[shovellyyy]

Uncle Sukuna, aka Mr Billy Badass of the Itadori family, hates when people mess with his family.

He'd never admit it out loud, though. He'd rather choke on a nail than tell anyone.

He teased and proded at Jin's patience since day 1. In high school, never hesitating to leave puffs full of glitter in his locker, or draw on his face in his sleep.

If anyone else were to do those things, or dare say a word about him, he wouldn't hesitate to do even worse. He'd throw their textbooks over the roof of the school and fill their lockers with slugs.

He felt insatiable pleasure in watching their faces contort in agony or fear while they lived through what's the most embarrassing moment of their high school careers.

He just didn't expect his protectiveness to grow in tenfold when he got a nephew.

Yuuji was a child too good for the world, truly. He was nice to everyone, albeit as naive as a 5 year old is of course. Even as a baby, he was as jolly as one could be.

When he started kindergarten, Yuuji unfortunately learned that not other kids were so nice. It was a lesson for Sukuna too.

As he was picking Yuuji up from school one day in place of Jin, he noticed Yuuji had unusual scuff marks on his face.

"What happened, brat?" Sukuna asked after he buckled Yuuji into the bumper seat.

Yuuji was silent, but before he could speak, he began to sob. "Y-yoshino hit me because I asked him t-to play catch!"

Sukuna prided himself on his control. He was an adult, of course.

He had just never experienced the amount of rage as he's feeling now.

He tells Jin what happens when he gets home before dinner, and Jin talks to Yuuji about it. They decide to talk to the principal the next morning. Sukuna insists on going no matter how much Jin tells him it's unnecessary.

Unfortunately, the principal is a tad less than helpful. Sukuna would've preferred more flare, but instead he just calls this Yoshino kids parents for a meeting.

In an instant, Sukuna sees where the brat gets it from. The kids dad and mom both showed up, and yet only the dad is speaking.

"I doubt he meant it. I mean, why should he play with someone who's not as skilled as him?"

Really? All that confidence in a 5 year old over one fucking game of catch?

Sukuna let his body speak for his brain. He remembers it in flashes:

1. He's standing up.

2. There's screaming.

3. The guy is on the floor with a busted nose. (Probably broken)

4. Sukuna's being dragged out by Jin.

He comes to when they're in the car. It appears that Jin decided to pick Yuuji up early from school while they were there.

Yuuji's babbling happily over something he and his friends Megumi and Nobara crafted during art time.

Jin, on the other hand, is glaring out the windshield.

"You can't just do that, Ryomen." Jin mumbles quietly enough so only Sukuna can hear.

Really, he doesn't give a fuck.

"I'd do it again."

[latoyalestrange]

hi! i love your writing! 🖤 could you do one where sebastian is all jealous when f!mc starts spending a lot of time with another boy, seb says he’s a “bad influence” and she says something like “you taught me all three of the unforgivables seb, if you’re jealous you can admit it” just calling him out

accidentally escalated things near the end. oops?

green is for envy

s. sallow x f!reader

yes i'm using this gif again what about it

summary: you'd been friends with sebastian since your first day at hogwarts. during your seventh year, professor weasley assigns a project to complete alongside garreth, thinking you would be a good influence on him. you only thought of him as a friend, but sebastian didn't see it that way.

words: 3.1k (longest one to date oops)

warnings: aged up seb and mc, pining, jealousy, swearing, smut, unprotected sex pinv, soft!seb, virgin!reader not edited!

when professor weasley said you'd be partnered up with garreth, you were annoyed at first. he had a reputation of putting off assignments that didn't interest him. that of course wouldn't make professor weasley change your partner, so you had to persist anyway.

sebastian was distracted the entire study hall that day. you'd decided to sit with garreth instead of him, wanting to discuss the project. he sat on the opposite side of the great hall to you, your back facing him. he had a clear view of garreth as you talked. he scoffed as he saw the sly expression on the gryffindor's face.

"just look at him, trying to flirt with her. pathetic." if looks could kill, garreth would've been on the floor minutes ago. a searing scowl replaced his normally handsome eyes.

"merlin, i knew this was going to happen." ominis instantly rose out of his seat, closing his book and taking it in his arms.

"where are you going?" his tone was harsh, his mind still on you.

"i'm not going to listen to you mope about this. you've had plenty of chances." he started to take his wand out to light his way out, but sebastian placed his hand on his wrist, halting his movements. if it were anyone but sebastian or you, he would've blasted them with his wand.

"what's that supposed to mean?" his voice softened, almost sounding hurt. ominis sighed and retired his wand back to his pocket.

"i mean you've fancied her for two years and have avoided every possible opportunity to make a move. i wouldn't blame her if weasley was winning her over right now." sebastian's shoulders slumped at his words, looking more defeated than angry.

"i try flirting with her, but it doesn't seem to phase her. what am i supposed to do?" he let his head fall into his hands as he rested his elbows on the sturdy wooden table. ominis rolled his eyes dramatically and returned to his seat.

"you're oblivious, aren't you?" he asked, his voice hushed. sebastian peeked at his friend from behind his hands, his face feeling suddenly feeling warm.

"probably. to what?" ominis bit his lip, trying so hard not to laugh when he was supposed to be annoyed at him.

"she flirts back, you git. she's just not as arrogant as you, she's more shy. when she gets you little sweets from the kitchen, asks you to walk her to hogsmeade, or asks you for help on assignments, she's flirting with you." sebastian looked away for a moment, contemplating what ominis was saying.

"for merlin's sake, has she ever picked someone other than you to duel with? do you notice her doing those things for anyone else? no."

"bloody hell, ominis," he turned to face his friend and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, pleading with him. "how do i fix it?" ominis rolled his eyes once more.

"send her an owl. tell her to meet you in the undercroft tonight." sebastian quirked his head to the side, expecting more.

"yes, and then what? fall to my knees and beg for her hand?"

ominis shrugged, "sure, i don't care. just don't break the couch. i like that couch." sebastian shoved him where he sat, withdrawing his hand back to his lap.

"don't speak of her like that. she's a lady." ominis stopped himself from chuckling, but his cheeks flushed a bright red as a knowing smile still shined through. "what's that face for?"

"you should hear some of the things she's said about you in confidence." sebastian's eyes went wide as his friend allowed himself to laugh. he swallowed down hard, his tie feeling much tighter than before. "don't ask, because i won't tell--"

"right, right, of course." sebastian wiped his brow with the back of his hand-- was he sweating? why was it suddenly so hot? and just his luck, you had turned around to check on your friends in that moment. you smiled sweetly at him and waved. with his jaw clenched tightly shut, he painfully waved back at you. you turned back just in time to miss garreth mocking sebastian by waving his fingers and batting his eyelashes. he didn't have the heart to fight him right now, he was already so distraught. he could've had you this entire time.

Undercroft tonight. Urgent.

S

seeing his lettering on the page made you feel like a giddy schoolgirl. maybe because you were one. you practically skipped down to the undercroft once the common room was clear and your roommate was asleep. part of you knew he was just going to ask for a favor or needed council on something, but another part of you hoped so badly that he just wanted to see you. to be in your presence.

your heart was racing as you were anticipating your answer, the door to the undercroft letting out a series of mechanical clicks as it opened. you stepped through, slowly advancing into the dimly lit room with anticipation. about half of the candles that were usually lit were put out, creating a gloomy orange hue. perhaps he wasn't there yet?

"sebastian?" you looked over the room once more, unable to spot his familiar figure. then, just as you relaxed as you knew you were alone, a pair of firm hands gripped your waist, startling you out of your skin. you gasped instinctively and forced yourself out of their grip, turning around as fast as you could. you let down your defenses as his eyes met yours.

"you have to stop doing that, sebastian. one of these days i'm going to blast you on accident." you placed your hand over your chest that was still heaving from the adrenaline. he was unphased, chuckling at the sight of you. he quickly stopped to place a comforting hand on your arm, rubbing circles with his thumb.

"okay, okay, i'm sorry." a pleased smile still remained on his face as he allowed you to regain your composure.

"you better hope that's not why you sent for me," you teased, fixing your hair slightly, which sebastian took note of.

"absolutely not." there was something behind his eyes that you were trying to decipher. something you'd never seen before. the smirk, sure, he looked at you like that every day, but you could tell that his mind was somewhere different. it made you feel like his prey as he towered over you.

"well go on then, i don't have all night." you folded your arms, but your face was anything but intimidating.

"i'll get to that in a minute. first," he took a small step towards you, his muscular hand still gently resting on the back of your arm. "how was your day? haven't seen you since you ditched me for weasley in study hall." his hand shifted upward and ghosted over your skin until it met your cheek as he delicately brushed the stray strands of your hair behind your ear. you tried to suppress the rouge that unfortunately persisted to your cheeks.

"yeah, i'm sorry about that. i was worried he was going to leave all the work for me, but he actually seems very interested in the project. he even offered to work on it after class with me this week." his hand fell to his side as he rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"of course he did." you furrowed your brow at him as he grimaced.

"what does that m--" you cut yourself off as it all started to click in your head. the lighting, the urgent letter, the attitude, everything made sense. "i can't believe it. sebastian sallow is jealous?" to your surprise, he didn't defend himself. in fact, his face was entirely confident.

"so what if i am? he's a bad influence on you."

"really, sebastian? you taught me all three unforgivable curses, the worst that he's done is procrastinate." he took a few steps forward, returning to your comfortable proximity.

"it's not what he's done, it's what he'll do. or rather, what he can't do." you found his hands palming the sides of your arms again, squeezing gently.

"yeah? and what's that?" you pushed through the sickening feeling of your stomach fluttering and looked up at him innocently, something you knew for a fact affected him. he met your gaze hungrily, then shifted down to your lips.

"there's absolutely no world in which garreth weasley can treat you better than i can." your breath stalled as he loomed over you, unable to find your words. it felt like he moved in slow motion as he brought his hand up to your cheek, palming your blushing skin. his amber eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation. when he found none, he still waited for a moment, just breathing heavily with you. unable to hold back any longer, he connected your lips in a firm, but romantic kiss, tangling his fingers in your hair and letting his other hand pull you in by your waist. your arms eventually settled around his neck when he didn't pull away. he greedily snaked his arm around your back, bringing you further into him.

when you finally came up for air, he only trailed his lips further down until they were attacking the crook of your neck. you lips flushed and swollen, you still had the mind to tease him.

"is this what was so urgent, sallow?" he paused, and you could feel his devilish smile against your skin.

"maybe." he straightened his spine and composed himself a bit. "is that a problem?"

you shook your head, "not at all." you found your hands grasping at his neck and hair, desperate for contact. he obliged and pressed a gentle peck to your lips before retracting once more.

he sighed, "i want to do this right. come here." he directed you to the couch and sat opposite to you with your hands in his.

"are you sure this is what you want?" he didn't have to say it. the both of you knew exactly what was on the other's mind. you nodded softly, your doe eyes making him feel guilty for ruining such a pure thing with his touch. "i need you to say it."

"yes, sebastian, i'm sure." he returned the nod, looking as if he were going to burst at the seams if he didn't get some kind of release.

"okay," he breathed out heavily. "if you want me to stop at any point, just tell me."

he knew you were a virgin. there was no way someone had touched you and he didn't hear about it. you told him everything. so to say he was nervous was an understatement. perhaps more nervous than he was during his first time. he couldn't take something so precious and mess it up in the process. he needed this to be perfect for you.

he started with another gentle kiss while he refrained from letting his hands roam your body. you were disappointed when he stopped to fidget with the buttons on your uniform vest. he took his time, unhooking each one and licking his lips as he watched you toss it to the floor and start on your blouse underneath. he helped you shimmy out of your skirt and you were suddenly entirely exposed for him.

"lie back," he shifted, facing you as you let your head rest on the couch arm behind you. "just relax, okay?" he sensed tension in your stomach as he allowed his hands to needily search your body, wanting to memorize every dip and curve. he peppered loving kisses all down your stomach, stopping at the hem of your underwear. your skin felt like it was burning underneath his lips, sending electricity through your legs. he hooked his fingers under the band and slowly pulled down. you lifted your bottom half to aid him, your legs shaking as you did so. you felt so vulnerable as he took in the sight of your naked body. his eyes devoured you as he bit his lip desperately.

you let your gaze drift to the ceiling as he trailed kisses along the inside of your thigh, leaving purple marks with every few. you couldn't contain your voice, feeling so incredibly sensitive.

"probably never been touched like this, hm?" his mouth was still buried in the plush skin of your thighs.

you shook your head, "nuh uh." just as you answered, he dove straight into your core, gently circling your bundle of nerves. your back instantly arched into the couch and he forced your hips back down with his hands. your own clenched tightly at your sides, unsure of where you should put them. he noticed and placed them in his hair, encouraging you to grip onto the strands. you followed, using some of the pent up tension on his locks. he groaned, the vibration overwhelming you further.

"oh, sebastian!" your eyes screwed shut tightly as you tried your very best not to scream. everything felt so good, too good. your knees clenched around his face, which seemed to just encourage him. luckily, he came up for air, but only for a moment before he slowly pushed a finger into your heat that was already dripping. you stretched around his digit, making his pants even tighter than before. you let out a guttural moan, throwing your head back into the cushions.

"fuck, you're so tight." he couldn't help but grind his hips into the couch in search of some for of relief. after a few pumps, he added another and he could feel you starting to come undone around them. in hopes to not overwhelm you further, he retracted both of his fingers and began trailing kisses up your tummy, in between the valley of your breasts, all the way up to your lips. you could taste yourself on him, unsure if you should find it as attractive as you did. he paused to half-undress himself, leaving him in an unbuttoned dress shirt and disheveled tie. you took the opportunity to pull him toward you, connecting your lips in a heated exchange.

"eager, are we?" he teased, going back to kissing your neck. you nodded, biting your lip as you looked up at him. "don't tempt me. i don't want to hurt you." you blush deepened at his caring words as you felt his hardness press in between your legs. almost as an instinct, your back arched against him as you lifted your hips to meet his. he growled in your ear, sending a chill down your spine. he quickly planted a hand next to your head to hold himself up as he rubbed his tip against your slick entrance. you could feel the nervous pit in your stomach return as you looked down to watch.

"eyes on me, love. eyes on me." you felt his hand force your gaze upwards to meet his own. he placed one last gentle kiss on your lips before letting himself sink into you. keeping eye contact, he watched you unravel beneath him, unable to contain your moans any longer. he slowly bottomed out inside of you and stopped there, letting you adjust to his size.

"i know, i know. you're doing so good, darling," he cooed sweetly in your ear, a complete contrast to the sounds coming from you. he finally found his pace, an agonizingly slow one at that.

"sebastian, please!" you could feel tears start to brim your eyes from the frustration.

"please, what? tell me, princess." his sultry tone could've drove you mad.

"more, seb, please-- i want more!" he chuckled mischievously in your ear, lifting himself to face you again. the look in his eyes was almost scary. he quickly snaked an arm under your hips to angle them upwards, and placed his other hand on your lower stomach, pressing down gently. unsure but trusting, you closed your eyes as he aligned himself again. his pace wasn't rough by any means, but it was firm, and your cries were louder than ever before. you'd never felt anything like it before. your stomach felt like a spring that was so tightly wound that it could burst at any moment.

"oh, yes!" with each thrust you felt closer and closer to euphoria, all of your senses were drowned out by what he was doing to you.

"it's okay, i got you. let it happen." his voice was broken as he was close to his own release. he dipped his head down to push through it, sending the two of you over the edge and then some. warm tears finally fell down your cheeks as you let go, a blur of his name and other curses falling from your swollen lips. with one last go, he emptied himself inside of you.

"feels so fucking good...fuck." he fell into a heap on top of you, his warm body trapping you on the couch. not like you could move anyway. you felt stuck, your chest heaving with his.

"i'm sorry i didn't do that earlier." he admitted, his head resting on your torso. you were finally able to giggle, smoothing his disheveled hair down.

"it's okay." he sighed at your words, it wasn't okay. he placed another gentle kiss on your chest before pulling himself off of you to remove his dress shirt and tie entirely, leaving him in his shorts.

"can i get you some water?" he rose to his feet and trailed off to a dark corner to retrieve a blanket.

you shook your head once more, "nuh uh. can you just hold me?" he smiled sweetly at you as he returned, unfolding the blanket to drape around his shoulders before he sat on the couch again.

"of course." he opened his arms for you as he stretched his legs out next to you. you happily accepted the offer and found yourself engulfed in his warm, muscular arms with the blanket trapping the heat in around you.

"it's not okay, y/n." you quickly looked up to analyze the expression on his face. he looked remorseful.

"i could've said something too. i just had no idea you thought of me that way-- this way."

"that's my point exactly. i was sending mixed signals. but no more of that, okay? we tell each other absolutely everything from now on." you chuckled and nestled into him, feeling more comfortable than ever before.

"agreed."

you spent the rest of the night wrapped up in his arms on the couch.

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