#and it just clicked this time and since i have so much time on my own with earbuds in...im just deep in it now

[tangerineastronaut]

can you do how they would be when your pregnant ot8

ATEEZ during your pregnancy ❤︎ ot8

Pairing: ot8 headcanons Genre: fluff, mentions of smut Requested: Yes w.c. 2.5k Warnings: pregnancy discussion, talk, sexual bits (not a whole lot of smut I promise) A/N: This took a surprisingly long amount of time I'm sorry!! I'm not sure if you meant ateez or not, I assumed so since that's what I've been posting recently. If not please send me an ask and I will do this for another group! Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

Taglist: @baby-stay92 @cozypaint If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please DM me or click here.

🔞Content Below the Break🔞

Hongjoong

The absolute worst (best)

Scolds you for "doing too much" aka walking up the stairs or picking up a gallon of milk.

Buys you the most expensive brand of prenatal vitamins despite your doctor insisting the cheap ones are fine

Checks on you via text every hour when he's not with you

^ and when he is with you

Is lowkey afraid of failure as a father, reads parenting articles

Sends you decaf coffee at work

Wants to feel your belly but won't unless you invite him to

Teary eyed when he feels the baby kick for the first time

Sampled the heartbeat at the ultrasound visit to use in a song

Writes letters to you and the baby and keeps them in a memory book for you to read later (but you don't know this)

Nursery is fully decked out and the baby already has a full wardrobe

Your crying makes him panic, he hates seeing you cry and will frantically try to soothe you every time

Is grossed out by your cravings but will get them for you anyway—why do you have to crave vegetables?

Sex is soft and lazy in the best way

Side sex (think sunday morning sex except any day) >>>

Like imagine his chest against your back, his cheek against yours, one of his hands keeping your leg up so he has room to fuck you, asking if it feels good and if you're comfortable, except he's kind of whining and breathless ~

No pregnancy kink but thinks you're breathtaking, as always

^ even when you haven't showered, your legs are hairy, etc. He thinks you're a work of art

Plays music for you and the baby, asks what he/she responds to and makes note of it

Overprotective, does not like it when people touch you in general, let alone when you're pregnant

Visibly dies inside every time someone's hand goes to your belly without asking you first—would scold people if you'd let him

Posts photos of you each month documenting your pregnancy and leaving a words of appreciation for you

Keeps a copy of the ultrasound photo with him

May not have his hands on you 24/7, but he makes sure you know you're loved as well as the baby

Seonghwa

So freaking soft for you both

Loves babies anyway but your baby??

Him leaning against the headboard so you can lean against him, he'll curl his arms around you and rub your belly while you talk

Talks to the baby, even when you're asleep

"I can feel you kicking in there. Let's let mommy sleep, hm? She gets cranky at daddy when she's tired."

Watches parenting videos

Loves showering with you since you can't take baths

When you joke that there's not much room anymore he'll say he knows that and pulls you closer

Shaves your legs for you when it gets too difficult, even if you're too shy to ask him

Buys you gifts every time he gets something for the baby

"The mom group says it's important for me to make you feel as loved and wanted as the baby."

^ has joined mom groups on social media, because "dad groups are just full of men complaining"

Calls him/her 'the little one'

"How are you? How was the little one today?"

Isn't overprotective but has moments when he hovers

You don't mind

Sex is always slow and full of giggles and him reassuring you when you're out of breath

He likes you on your back so he can kiss you and keep pressure off of you, arms on either side of you to support his weight

Likes taking naps with you even though you're always napping due to exhaustion

^ rarely actually sleeps, just wants to be near you and the baby

Knows your cravings by heart

"Pickle juice and french fries? That's a new one."

His nesting is as bad as yours if not worse; you both frantically clean the house months before the baby arrives

Loves when you send him selfies/belly pics

Isn't fazed by your emotions, helps you work through them and validates you

"Being pregnant doesn't mean you aren't allowed to have feelings, pretty girl. I'm here."

Yunho

Probably the most excited externally

Loves rubbing your belly and watching the baby kick his hand

Unironically purchased the "I'm proof daddy doesn't play video games all the time" onesie

Brings you ice cream even if you don't ask for it

"I'm telepathically linked with our baby, he/she said they want ice cream. I don't make the rules, y/n."

p r e g n a n c y k i n k

"Look at you, so fucking pretty and full."

Sex is unbelievably gentle despite his filthy words

Won't put you on your back, likes to have you in his lap so he can do all the work

Likes taking you out and showing you off, even when you feel like a mess

Posts pictures of you constantly to the point where people joke he's running a y/n maternity account

Foot rubs

Sympathy pains

"Our heartburn is bad today. I want a cinnamon roll. With sprinkles."

Teases you relentlessly

"I'll race you to the kitchen—oh yeah."

Handsy af but you don't mind

Walks up behind you to hold your belly

Sits up at night to rub it when the baby won't settle

He/she loves Yunho's voice and they begin kicking when he speaks

^ he uses this to his advantage

"Mommy's calling herself ugly again, I'm gonna need some backup from my internal ally."

Already 2 v 1 and the thing isn't even here yet

His google search history is worse than yours

^ "can pregnant women eat carrots"

"how long does pregnancy really last"

"how to make pregnant woman stop crying"

"why is my pregnant girlfriend crying"

"why am I crying"

"how to stop crying when your pregnant girlfriend cries"

Loves when people ooh and awe over you; beams and grins like an idiot bc you're his and he put the baby in you.

Yeosang

Seems calm

Is not calm

Is just as protective/concerned as Hongjoong but is so quiet about it you don't even notice

You haven't lifted a grocery bag since he found out about your pregnancy

Has the dates of your appointments memorized

No one touches the belly. He doesn't even say anything to anyone. They just don't.

Does little things to make sure you're extra comfortable, bought you a pregnancy pillow

Whispers to your belly

^ "I'm afraid my voice will scare the baby. I'll just whisper."

Pouts if the baby won't kick for him

You: "Please, Yeosang, for the millionth time fetuses cannot choose favorites! Our baby loves you, I promise!"

King of pregnancy cravings

2 a.m. runs to the convenience store because you want some strawberry milk

Forehead kisses with a hand on your belly >>>

Will literally get on his knees for a chat with him/her

Like imagine looking down and seeing this man smiling up at you, both hands on your tummy with so much love in his eyes I just—

His calm facade dissolves when you cry

It physically hurts him to see you break down and he will do all he can to help you

Talks about you nonstop and your symptoms, experiences, etc literally to anyone with ears

Signs you both up for a parenting class

Cannot believe how horny you are, but is happy to help

^ a little afraid of you tbh but still very much in love

Like Hongjoong, prefers side sex so he can still be close to you

Also loves foreplay/eating you out even more now because of how sensitive you are

Ultrasound visits/pics make him choked up though he tries to hide it

His brain has not processed the fact that his baby is literally inside of you

It isn't going to fully sink in until there's a baby in his arms

^ is never going to put him/her down

San

Proud Dad™

Is excited, but calm

Similar to Yeosang but not as intense

^ still protective, but doesn't mind when people touch your belly as long as they ask first

Buys two copies of baby books for you both to read at the same time

Posts pictures of your pregnancy journey with quotes or long paragraphs about how beautiful you are

lowkey pregnancy kink?

Cautious

Armchair sex/you in his lap - super slow and soft

Loves showering with you after to hold you and massage your back/shoulders

Doesn't necessarily treat you like you'll break but is still very gentle with you

Hugs are softer, he doesn't squeeze as tight, likes to hug you from behind and look over you to see what you're doing

Touches your belly in a reassuring way, likes to brush his hand against it and feel the baby's reaction

Does it in public probably the most of the members, though it's not really intentional

His hands used to go to your waist and now they go to your bump ~

Doesn't talk to the baby as much as he sings to him/her

Is way too excited to take maternity photos

Gets caught staring at you by literally everyone

Does not care

Thinks you hung the stars

Loooooves being snuggled in bed with you with your bump between you, rubbing your belly and whispering as though the baby is sleeping

Is very expressive about his fears/doubts and wants you to be as well

Blushes when people call him daddy

Blushes harder when you call him daddy

Pretty calm when it comes to your emotions, will just go with the flow and give you what you need, whether that's space, affection, or food

secretly hopes you want another one

Mingi

When I tell you this man is terrified

Does not think he can care for a baby despite your reassurance

Asks all the questions

"I mean, how do we know when it's done? You know, like, cooked all the way?"

Oddly protective despite his fears

Does not like anyone touching your belly

Any time someone comments on your size/roundness/etc he's ready to throw hands, does not care if it's the ajumma two doors down from you

You: "Mingi for the love of god, I have told you, you cannot threaten people."

"She threatened you first!"

You: "She just said I look ready to pop??"

Horny af and has a pregnancy kink but will not initiate sex

You have to beg, and even then it's like ~

"No I mean just stand there, and I'll hold you and put it in. Yeah don't move at all."

Will still eat you out daily

Treats you like a glass doll

Belly kisses >>>>>

Buys baby books, gets one page in and declares this is too much to remember and you both should get a refund

^ shrugs at your look of horror "obviously I meant a refund for the books..."

Raps??? at your belly? Like nursery rhyme raps????

Also talks. A lot. Not cooing or baby talk

"Today at practice I slipped and it sucked, kinda hurt my knee. I'm still a good dancer, definitely better than Yunho. I'll show you. But I mean like after you can walk and stuff, or maybe you'll dance before you can walk and we can win money or something. Do they have baby dance competitions?"

Doesn't post the pictures he takes of you and your belly, looks at them when he misses you and won't let anyone else see them

Unironically refers to himself as your baby daddy and changes his contact in your phone [proudly]

When you cry, he cries, so please don't cry

Asks if he can attend his own child's birth

^ is excited when you say "...yes, Mingi. You can attend the birth of our child."

Wooyoung

Knows all there is to know about babies??

Is not concerned at all

Reassures you constantly

You ask him questions

Will lay on your thighs and absentmindedly rub your belly while watching tv or scrolling on his phone

Actually, will rub your belly anywhere, and usually does it without realizing it

Refers to you as mama and himself as dada even out of context

"Do you want a drink, mama?"

Is completely unfazed by your weird cravings and will get them for you as long as it's not harmful

"No, y/n, you cannot have sushi with your oreos. Mercury levels..."

Not overprotective in the slightest

Your biggest advocate

The only member who would fuck you properly while pregnant, as he knows it's safe within reason

Does not have a pregnancy kink, but loves how sensitive you are, the changes to your body, etc and thinks you're a goddess

Loves going shopping with you

Will absolutely argue with you over nursery themes

Finds you adorable when you're emotional, but will still try to calm you down and comfort you

Loves talking about you nonstop

May not praise you to your face as much as the others but tells everyone else he's so incredibly lucky to have you as the mother of his child

He was so clingy before

It's worse

His camera roll is full of selfies with him and your bump

Imagine woo making bunny ears over your belly (and telling your unborn child to say cheese)

Has full on conversations with him/her

Baby talks and coos and informs them they have the best parents ever

Jongho

Probably the most genuinely calm member when it comes to your pregnancy

Still very excited

Does not know as much as wooyoung but is fairly confident, not terrified or anxious like some of the others

Touches your belly from day 1, even without a bump

Sings and hums to it

The baby LOVES his voice and always kicks when he's near

He finds this adorable and loves talking to him/her while touching your stomach

Massages >>>>

Your pregnancy aches are afraid of him

Is a little shaken by your emotions but handles them well

Not too overprotective but really hates it when people touch you

Won't say anything though unless you're uncomfy

Sex?

Dear god

2ho breeding/pregnancy kink is my headcanon and I am sticking with it

Do not make eye contact for more than a few seconds

Is unbelievably horny for you

Doggy style with pillows underneath you >>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Is extra gentle despite how badly he wants you

Takes care of you first also ^ he knows it helps you relax so that's always his end goal

Loves the way you look while pregnant

Thinks you're beautiful anyway but something about the fact that you're literally creating a brand new human being

When you wear his t-shirts and nothing else because your clothes don't fit anymore it makes him melt ~

^ he complains for the fun of it but would probably cry if you stopped

Brings you snacks/drinks/whatever without you having to ask

Is willing to try your cravings with you as long as it's nothing vile (frito chips + peanut butter)

Wants to do every social media pregnancy trend with you

*buys your unborn child soccer cleats*

Doesn't post photos of you often but when he does, they're tearjerkers

Wants more kids but knows how difficult pregnancy/motherhood is so ultimately it's up to you

He's the cutest - kissing your temple while snuggling on the couch and rubbing your belly

"Our baby bear"

[marvelstoriesepic]

Five days, Five bouquets

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Prompt: "Do I need to remind you that we're not actually married?"

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: talk of a fake marriage for the sake of a mission; fluffff

Author’s Note: This is written for the writing challenge of @elixirfromthestars ♡ I wasn’t planning on writing something so soon because I’ve still got a project going on right now, but your prompts and everything were just so alluring, I couldn’t help myself. I hope you enjoy this, my dearest. And I am almost entirely certain that this won’t be my only entry to your writing challenge, because I've got some more ideas lol

Divider by @saradika-graphics ♡

Masterlist

“Again, Bucky?”

You don’t even try to mask your breathless laughter, the warmth of it slipping through as you rise from your seat.

The front door clicks shut behind Bucky and he scuffs off his boots half-heartedly on the door mat. There is a bouquet of flowers in his hand. And an even larger grin on his face.

The table before you is still cluttered with the remnants of your cover - documents, notes, a meticulously crafted facade of a life together.

A life that isn’t real, except for moments like these, when the borders become smudged just enough to make you wonder.

“‘Course, sweetheart,” he says, still smiling so wide, but his tone does not hold a trace of irony. “What kinda guy d’you think I am? Four days in a row and I just stop?” He scoffs as if the mere thought offends him. His voice is honeyed.

He stalks over to you standing at the table and holds the bouquet out for you. It is an understatedly beautiful arrangement of dusky pink roses, fluffy ruffled carnations, ivory lilies with petals curling slightly at the edges. Wisps of silvery foliage peek through, adding a breath of frost to the warmth. And then there are the deep inky leaves interwoven among the blooms, like something divine pulled from the shadows.

You take them with fingers that begin to tremble just slightly. His hand brushes over yours. A blush makes its way up your face just like every time.

You have been undercover for five days, posing as a married couple by orders from Nick Fury. And every day, even though it’s not at all necessary for you both to keep your cover, Bucky brings you a bouquet when he gets ‘home’ from his fake job.

He is embedded in a high-profile consulting firm, shadowing a suspect deeply tangled in covert operations, while you take a closer look at his wife. She’s not at all innocent. She manages high-stakes charity galas, the kind that funnel money into places they shouldn’t be. You play the devoted wife, hosting brunches, attending yoga classes she goes to, letting cautious friendships lead you to the information you need.

Five days. Five bouquets.

Each one different, but all of them hold some unspoken thing. Something that makes you shiver.

The choking in your throat is disguised with a roll of your eyes. “You do know we’re supposed to be laying low, right? Kinda hard when you’re single-handedly funding the local florist,” you tease rather lightly.

Bucky chuckles, low but bright, and you swear you feel the sound more than you hear it. “Oh c’mon, doll. Long as we’re playin’ house, I gotta keep my wife happy.”

This is a joke. It is all a joke. But your pulse is not laughing, only speeding up, tripping at the way he puts emphasis on wife. As if the word fits too well in his mouth, as if he could get used to it.

Bucky has always been a gentleman to you. Even outside of missions. But since you started this one, moving into the same house on the outskirts of town for the sake of your cover, the grumpiness and stoicism that usually surround his aura at the compound are completely lost here with you. You’ve never seen him smile as much as you have in the last five days.

You clutch the bouquet a little tighter, take a closer look, and take in the many appealing colors and scents. “Thank you, Bucky. I love those,” you say warmly.

His expression falters just a fraction like it does every time, not quite knowing what to do with genuine gratitude when it’s meant for him. Although you show it to him all the time. A flicker of something unguarded passes over his features before he covers it with a scoff that only makes it out halfway. He looks off to the side, shifting his weight. “Well, can’t have my wife thinkin’ I'm slipping already now, can I?” he laughs a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, the tips of his ears just the slightest bit of pink.

You turn with a huffed laugh and perform the task of putting away the flowers. Shaking your head, you start to get highly aware of the wedding band around your finger, a piece of fiction Tony gave you to wear. It looks so real, yet it is a lie. And you hate it.

“Do I need to remind you that we’re not actually married?” The words fall with amusement but they sit heavier in the air than they should.

The ring fits perfectly, Tony made sure of that. But it still somehow presses against your skin. As if to remind you that Bucky is not truly yours.

Bucky doesn’t miss a beat. You see him tilting his head from your peripherals as you reach for a vase. His smile is softened. “Don’t matter, sweetheart. Might as well treat you like my wife.” His voice is quieter now, less teasing. But sure.

The kitchen and living room are already brimming with the past four days of his affections.

One arrangement graces the coffee table, another stands by the window, and two more are carefully nestled between books on the shelf at the wall to your left. A home suffused with color, with life, with something neither of you dares to call by name.

You feel the warmth of his gaze on you. He doesn’t say anything, standing there relaxed, still with that proud and fond smile on his face, watching you as if he is engraving in his memory the way you fuss over where to place this latest offering.

And maybe you take just a little longer than necessary because if you turn too soon, you’ll have to meet his eyes.

And you don’t know if you can right now.

You’re not sure if you’d be able to look away.

But you know you should. Because this is not real.

But maybe - and this is the hope speaking - it could be someday.

“Imagine someone thinking of you and buying you flowers.”

- sleepyurl

[l-starsz]

Billie sees reader doing yoga early in the morning and can't contain herself

a/n: this was actually quite fun to write even though i’m clueless about yoga😞 got a bit carried away writing it if i’m honest..

i turned over in bed and squinted as i opened my eyes. too early, but i needed to get up. i smiled as i noticed billie. her eyes were lightly shut, her mouth open the tiniest bit, and her hair messy around her face as she slept. she looked beautiful. with the small smile still on my face, i stretched, then stood up out of bed, heading towards the bathroom. i washed my face before heading downstairs for some breakfast. i wasn't usually a breakfast person, but i decided i needed some food in me since i was planning on doing some yoga. i'd recently started getting into yoga, and quickly discovered the hard way that i couldn't do it on an empty stomach no matter how much i hated breakfast. i didn't want to keep getting lightheaded halfway through..

i quickly made myself a bowl of cut up fruit with yogurt over it. it didn't take me too long to finish it, waiting for a little bit for my food to settle before going back to the bathroom to brush my teeth, changed, put my hair up, and then back downstairs to do yoga. i'd set my mat up, and began stretching, and doing different poses. i had gentle music playing through my headphones because i knew i wouldn't have been able to focus if i was doing it in silence. since my music was pretty loud, and my headphones were noise cancelling, i didn't notice at all when the door at the back of the room opened, and billie walked in. i had no clue how long she'd been in the room, but i only noticed when i saw a shadow nearby. obviously, i panicked, not expecting her to be in the room with me. i flinched and rushed to take my headphones out, looking up at her as my heart pounded in my chest.

i placed my hand over my heart, feeling how quick it was beating, and giggled as i spoke.

"billie, you scared the shit out of me."

she laughed and shook her head, then crouched down beside me. i was honestly still pretty confused about what she was doing, she never usually watched me, she only came in the room every so often to check on me and tell me how much she missed me, but she hadn't said a word yet. my eyebrows furrowed as i spoke again.

"how long have you been in here watching me, hm?"

"hmmm, not long." she smiled.

i reached over and grabbed my water that was nearby, taking a few sips and processing her words. i still had more poses i needed to do, but first had a question.

"what's up then bil? usually you come in and tell me you miss me, then go and wait for me to finish. what's going on in your pretty mind?" i smiled back as i spoke.

"well you just look so beautiful. look so perfect in that outfit. you look so perfect in everything. i couldn't help but watch." i saw a small smirk appear on her face while she spoke.

"oh really?" i raised an eyebrow, then sighed, "i need to carry on now, you can stay and watch if you want baby?"

she was very quick to nod at my suggestion, sitting herself down on the floor next to me. the whole time she was there, her eyes didn't leave my body. i could feel her eyes watching my every move, but i just continued. i knew why she was really there. i took another short break after a while and turned to face billie. she had a smirk on her face, and was making direct eye contact with me. i rolled my eyes and laughed, knowing exactly what that look meant.

"i still have a little more to do, baby. not long left now." i laughed as i heard her groan at my words, but something must've clicked in her head. she had a plan.

"can i at least have a kiss?" she smiled innocently.

"when i’m done. i have like ten minutes left."

"pleaseeee. pretty please with a cherry on toppp?" she whined.

i giggled at her words and shuffled a little bit closer to her, leaning in and waiting for her to kiss me. i couldn't say no to her. it obviously didn’t take her long to press her lips gently against mine. when i tried to pull away after a few seconds, i felt her hand come up the back of my head, deepening the kiss and causing me to let out a quiet moan into her mouth. i really didn't expect her to deepen the kiss. i felt her smirk against my lips as we began making out. small whines left my mouth before she pulled away, causing me to groan. i looked into her eyes, practically begging her just by looking at her.

"i thought you had ten minutes left, angel? what happened to that, huh?"

she was getting cocky because she knew she'd got her own way. she knew that it didn't take a lot to convince me to stop what i was doing and give her even more attention, and she knew her plan all along.

"please bil.." i whispered, my lips hovering over hers.

she didn't reply, just carefully laid me down against the mat on the floor.

"in here?" i mumbled.

"just for now, okay? are you comfortable, love? if not i'll take you to our room right now."

"please just touch me. i'm comfortable billie. i need you now." i breathed out.

she soon enough pulled my leggings down. she paused when she saw my underwear. there had to be a spot where i'd practically soaked through them, there was no doubt about it. i felt her fingers run over the damp no, soaked spot on them, lightly brushing over my clit, before pulling her fingers away. i glanced up at her, noticing that she looked mesmerised. i laid my head back once again when my underwear was being pulled off almost immediately. she wasted no time, leaning down, laying on her stomach on the floor, hooking her arms under my thighs and pulling me closer before diving right in.

her tongue separated my folds as quiet, breathy moans came from me. she made her way towards my clit, but then moved back down and pushed her tongue inside me. i clenched around her and moaned loud. whilst i was busy moaning, i didn't even notice her move one of her arms from uner my leg, allowing her fingers to find my clit. her movements were quick, and precise. we both knew i wasn't lasting long at all. i couldn't even stay still as both her tongue, and her fingers worked against me, bringing me right to the edge of my orgasm. my moans were more frequent and high pitched as i squirmed around, trying not to cum until she told me to.

conveniently enough, just as i was focusing on not finishing, she tapped my thigh with her free hand, signalling to me to cum. and best believe i did. all over her face, and her fingers, and the mat beneath me. hopefully it wasn't ruined.. but at that moment in time, i had no time to think about that, my mind was filled with my pretty girlfriend. as she carefully moved away from my pussy, and closer to my face, i took notice of my arousal that coated her lips and her chin.

"such a good girl for me, waiting for me to tell you to cum." she whispered against my lips, "upstairs now?"

i desperately nodded and tried to stand up, but stopped when i heard billie tut.

"ah ah, let me carry you, baby. cmon." she giggled, carrying my all the way up to our bedroom and laying me onto our comfy bed.

"just relax, okay pretty girl?" she whispered against my lips, placing a gentle kiss against them before moving towards my neck, and peppering soft kisses there too.

it wasn't long before my shirt was discarded on the floor, her lips all over my tits and working their way down my body. as her kisses trailed all over me, her fingers lightly pressed against my entrance, slowly pushing into me.

"still so wet and needy for me, hm baby?" i heard her mumble.

"yeah- yes. all for you bils. all yours." i whined.

"good girl." she praised me.

her fingers curled inside me, making my back arch. i was still so sensitive from my last orgasm, and was ready to cum again within only five minutes.

"that's it, my love. doing sooo good for me. taking my fingers so well, isn't that right?"

i moaned from the tone of her voice alone, my walls tightening around her fingers as i resisted the urge to cum already.

"what was that?" she spoke clearly.

"yes! taking your fingers.." i breathed, unable to think straight.

"that's right, baby. so well." she smiled, watching me struggling.

she knew how bad i needed to finish, how difficult it was getting to hold back, she just wanted me to ask her. to tell her. and of course, she got exactly what she wanted.

"please!! please- bil- billie. need to- for you, please. let me cum?" my words were broken, i could barely from a sentence, all that filled my head was how good billie was making me feel, and how bad i needed for cum over her fingers.

"there you go. just needed to ask me, honey. cum." she spoke in a soft tone, sending me further over the edge.

she sped up her fingers, resulting in my cum coating them, and dripping down her wrist, onto the sheets. broken moans and light sobs left my mouth as i started to get overstimulated. i grabbed her hand, urging her to gently pull out and place her hands against my waist. her fingers ran up and down, before she moved to lay against my chest. meanwhile, i was still trying to calm my breathing down.

her clean hand ran through the sweat covered strands of hair that stuck to my forehead. my eyes had been shut for a while, but as soon as i felt her hand on my cheek, i opened them, both of us smiling as my eyes drooped from how worn out i was.

"let's get you cleaned up, okay baby? then we can have a nap, and spend allll day together. how does that sound?" she ran her thumb across my cheek.

"perfect. thank you billie." i lazily smiled.

[iamhereforfunnzies]

I'm thinking that blind readers are developing their clicking to the point that they can ride a bike in the busy street of Gotham. And with how traffic is bad and how people don't respect the rules- haha Bruce having a heart attack.

Also think it will be cool if the Reader is in blind school and the Batfam found how the Reader acts more muter and relaxed around people who treat them like a person. It'd make them realize some things.

Also imagine if Reader and their friends made their version of Mores code, where they speak it in clicks and write it in brile.

Funny enough I imagine it was Jason who actually saw you ride your bike as he was also ridding his bike he had give you a Second look.

Like what the fuck. He snitched to Bruce and he wouldn’t have believed him if he didn’t check Gothams traffic light camera. He became even more overbearing now always personally driving you to school.

He started notice how your personality shifts every time your friends are near by. “CAN YOU NOT I WANT TO GO GET ICE CREAM IS THAT DO WRONG-“ a girl calls for you. “(NAME)! Something wrong?” Your face changed to a cute smile.”Omg hi girl just talking with my Dada” you say sweetly as Bruce cannot comprehend that you called him Dada you haven’t called him that since you were 4.

This cause him to always drag your friends everywhere just to see you behave. Since all of them are mostly blind it’s adorable to him how all of you interact and worst part. Your friends ADORE HIM. Like they see him (hahaha) as a kicked cat trailing behind you , even if he is a bit much.

Bruce see’a your friends as puppies that he hold everyone leashes to make sure no one is lost. If he could he would adopt all your friends.

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK LONG I WILL BE ANSWERING MY INBOX😭😭❤️❤️💕

[slight-gaming-addict]

Hello!! May i request for the headcannons twisted wonderland characters?

Where reader is very affecionate person and kinda clumsy whenever they are dating with them (nrc characters), YET they are very smart that every class lesson, they will write the note until it's full, since reader when they are at their world back then was always get the 2nd or 1st rank academic especially that relate to sciences.

(The characters in twisted wonderland is up to you, can be only housewarden, or vice housewarden or the first years)

Sorry if my grammar is bad, love your writting and hope you have a great day! ^^

sweetest devotion

masterlist | ko-fi

characters with a smart & affectionate reader

characters: leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, vil schoenheit

warnings: fluff, i accidentally made vil's slightly suggestive, not proofread

𝑳𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒂 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓

he isn't really aware of how smart you are, mostly because he never shows up to class to begin with

gets annoyed when you initiate a cuddle session, only to pull back a couple hours later when you insist on having to go to class

he'll grip onto you so tight that you struggle to push out of his grasp, practically falling off the bed in your attempts to free yourself

you just smile at him when he looks at you with that grumpy look on his face, but will always say no when you ask him if he's going to class that day

you come to terms with him never wanting to go to class early on, just settling on giving him the notes after it's done

it doesn't really click in his brain whenever you give him the notes that you actually enjoy the class and do well in it, just grumbly skims through whatever stuff he already knows and doesn't care about

it's when ruggie threatens him for the nth time that week about going to at least one class that he gets annoyed at him and eventually just agrees

but that doesn't mean he's going to be diligent about getting to said class

he gets to the class twenty minutes in, ignoring the rest of the students and just slumping in vacant chair next to you

you smile when you see him in class for once, even if he is just slouching in the chair staring off into space

you instinctively grab his hand under the desk as the lesson continues

the warmth of your hand is the only thing really keeping him there

is genuinely surprised when he hears how much you actually know about the information in the class

watches in awe as you jot down almost everything the professor is saying without a pause

he's learning something new about you every day

𝑨𝒛𝒖𝒍 𝑨𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐

gets so flustered every time you compliment him or hold his hand

tries to play it off but he's really bad at it

he's immediately captivated by you when he finds out how smart you are in the classroom

you'll find him just staring at you when you lift your head up from your paper

he'll turn away from you in embarrassment when he's caught

but he'll just go back to admiring you a couple minutes later

practically swoons if you offer to help him with any business related things

he'll be so excited to tell you everything about it, and let you help him out with things

it's all slightly new to you, so you'll feel bad if you make any mistakes

azul ensures you that mistakes are a given in the line of work and that it's a good learning opportunity

he prefers to work with you than the unpredictability he gets with floyd anyway

it helps when he's constantly getting complimented by you from the work that he does

he's ready to just permanently keep you apart of the team

𝑽𝒊𝒍 𝑺𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒏𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒕

he isn't one for much pda, he has a reputation to uphold after all

knows how affectionate you are and won't outright reject you, but the most he'll do in public is hold your hand

however, the first time he found out about how well you were in potions, he was taken off guard

he knew you were smart, but didn't know how much you actually knew

had to do a double take when he heard you answer the question in class effortlessly, hardly even glancing at your notes

had to stop himself from pulling you to him and putting his mouth on yours right then and there

instead, he scoots his chair closer to yours and grabs your hand under the desk

you're taken off guard by the motion, but you don't pull away

he stays close to you for the rest of the class, practically dragging you through the hallway after it ended

finally gets you alone and does what he's wanted to since the start of class

[youngsadlesbian]

hey! i saw you were taking requests so:

a fic where popular!wanda and popular!reader have always been rivals. they love eachother as much as they hate eachother because they were childhood bestfriends, not until wanda left without a word, leaving reader alone.

i think it would be great if they have a scene wherein they get stuck in a bathroom after a couple of friends locked them in there, and they start talking about what actually happened.

ANDDDDD wanda getting pissed at reader's boyfriend, even if she has one as well.

i hope you consider this, thank you!!

BETWEEN LOVE AND WAR

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: rivals since wanda left without explanation, you love each other as much as you hate each other. when you're locked in together, buried feelings resurface. between stolen kisses, jealousy, and secrets, you must decide—keep fighting or finally surrender to love.

a/n: thanks for the request hope u like it <3

word count: 2k

warnings: angst if you blink, enemies to lovers but mostly fuff.

Highschool hallways were your battlefield.

From the moment Wanda Maximoff waltzed back into your life years after disappearing without a trace, she had been nothing but a thorn in your side. The childhood best friend you had once adored had morphed into your greatest rival, someone who matched you in everything—popularity, grades, social influence.

If you threw a party, Wanda threw a bigger one. If you aced a test, Wanda’s score was somehow a fraction higher. It wasn’t just a competition anymore—it was war.

And she played dirty.

“Nice speech, printsessa,” Wanda cooed as she brushed past you after the morning assembly, the smug smirk on her lips igniting a fire in your chest. “Almost convincing. Too bad I wasn’t impressed.”

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to take a steady breath. “That’s funny, Maximoff. Because last time I checked, you were watching my every move like your life depended on it.”

Her green eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was something else lurking beneath the surface—something almost… regretful? You ignored the nagging thought.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she purred, stepping closer until you could smell her familiar vanilla perfume. “If I wanted to watch something entertaining, I’d look anywhere but at you.”

A slow smirk curved your lips. “Then why are you still here?”

For a split second, Wanda faltered. But before you could dwell on it, she rolled her eyes and spun on her heel, walking away as if she hadn’t just invaded your space like she owned it.

That was how it always went between you two—like a storm brewing just beneath the surface, waiting for the moment to explode.

But nothing could have prepared you for what happened next.

It was supposed to be a harmless prank.

The idea was simple—your so-called friends thought it would be hilarious to lock you and Wanda in the girls’ bathroom until you either killed each other or worked things out.

“You guys need to fix your tension!” one of them had laughed before slamming the door shut behind you. The sound of the lock clicking into place sent a wave of dread through your stomach.

You whirled around, heart pounding. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Wanda groaned, banging a fist against the door. “Let us out, idiots!”

No response.

You let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing your temples. “Perfect. Just perfect.”

Wanda turned to glare at you, arms crossed. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” You scoffed, incredulous. “How the hell is this my fault?”

“You have terrible taste in friends.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, and you would know all about loyalty, right?”

The second the words left your mouth, the air between you shifted. Wanda tensed, her expression hardening as if you had physically slapped her.

And maybe, in a way, you had.

A thick silence stretched between you.

Then, Wanda exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I had my reasons,” she muttered.

Your heart clenched. “For leaving?”

She didn’t look at you. “Yeah.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to stay composed. “You never even said goodbye, Wanda.”

The raw emotion in your voice made her flinch.

You hated the way your chest ached. Hated the way her absence had wrecked you when you were younger.

Wanda finally met your gaze, and for the first time in years, her walls cracked. “I was scared,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “My father got into trouble. My family had to leave town overnight. I didn’t have a choice.”

Your breath hitched. “You did have a choice. You could have told me. I would’ve understood.”

“I didn’t want you to understand,” she snapped, frustration laced in her voice. “I wanted to protect you. I thought leaving without a word would make it easier for you to forget me.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Well, congratulations, Wanda. It didn’t work.”

The weight of the past hung heavy between you.

Then, in the quiet, Wanda’s voice softened. “I missed you.”

Your heart clenched at the admission.

But before you could respond, a loud click echoed through the air, and the door swung open.

Your friends had let you out. But neither of you moved.

Because everything between you had just changed.

\*/

You knew something was wrong the moment you spotted Wanda at the party later that night.

She was standing across the room, her gaze locked onto you like a predator watching its prey. And she was pissed.

At first, you thought it was just the unresolved tension from earlier.

But then you followed her line of sight—straight to your boyfriend, who had an arm draped around your waist.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Wanda’s lips, but there was no humor in it. “Didn’t know you had such low standards, printsessa.”

Your jaw clenched. “Excuse me?”

Wanda stepped closer, her presence overwhelming as she tilted her head, eyes dark with something dangerous. “Your boyfriend. He’s a walking red flag, sweetheart. You can do better.”

You glared at her. “Oh, so now you care about my love life?”

Her expression darkened. “I’ve always cared.”

The words made your breath hitch, but you refused to show weakness. “Funny. You didn’t seem to care when you disappeared.”

Something flickered in Wanda’s gaze, but before she could respond, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Wanda.”

You turned just in time to see her boyfriend—a tall, broad-shouldered guy who looked like he had just stepped out of a magazine—wrap an arm around her waist.

Wanda’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t move away.

Your stomach twisted, but you refused to acknowledge the feeling.

So instead, you smiled, voice dripping with false sweetness. “Well, isn’t this adorable? You’re acting jealous while you have a whole-ass boyfriend.”

Wanda’s grip on her drink tightened. “It’s not the same.”

You scoffed. “Oh, so you can date whoever you want, but I can’t?”

Her eyes burned into yours. “I don’t want you with him.”

Your heart stuttered, but you masked it with a smirk. “And why the hell not?”

Wanda took a step closer, voice low. “Because he’s not me.”

For a moment, the world stopped.

Then, before you could process what was happening, Wanda grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the crowd, away from her boyfriend, away from everything.

Because this war between you and her?

It had never been about hate.

Wanda’s grip on your wrist was firm but not painful as she dragged you out of the party and into the cool night air. The music from inside was still pounding, but it felt like a distant echo compared to the erratic beating of your own heart.

“What the hell was that?” you snapped, wrenching your arm free the moment you reached the empty backyard.

Wanda didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she ran a frustrated hand through her dark hair, her green eyes flashing with something wild, something desperate.

“You know what that was,” she finally said, voice tight.

You let out a humorless laugh. “No, I really don’t. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re just pissed I’m not still waiting around for you like some lovesick idiot.”

Her jaw clenched. “That’s not fair.”

You scoffed. “Oh, now you care about what’s fair?”

Wanda took a step closer, invading your space. “I never stopped caring.”

Your breath hitched. The heat of her presence, the intensity in her gaze—it was suffocating in the best and worst ways.

“Then why did you leave?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and aching. “Why did you let me believe you just didn’t give a damn about me anymore?”

Wanda exhaled sharply, looking away for a moment. “I told you—I thought it would be easier that way.”

“For who?” Your voice cracked, betraying you. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t easier for me.”

Silence.

Then, so softly you almost didn’t hear it—

“I couldn’t bear to say goodbye to you.”

The confession landed like a punch to the gut.

For so long, you had convinced yourself that Wanda had abandoned you without a second thought. That she had simply moved on. But the way she was looking at you now—like you were the only thing in the world that had ever mattered—made that lie crumble to dust.

She took another step closer. You didn’t move away.

“I missed you,” Wanda murmured.

Your chest tightened. “Then why did it take you so long to tell me that?”

Her eyes flickered to your lips for just a second. “Because I was scared.”

Your pulse roared in your ears.

“And what about now?” you whispered.

Wanda reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, her fingertips lingering against your skin.

“I’m still scared,” she admitted, voice barely above a breath.

But she didn’t pull away.

And neither did you.

You weren’t sure who moved first.

One second, you were standing there, staring at Wanda like she was the answer to a question you didn’t even know you had been asking. The next, her lips were crashing against yours in a kiss that tasted like frustration, longing, and years of unresolved emotions.

It was messy, desperate—more of a battle than a kiss.

Your hands fisted in the fabric of her jacket, pulling her impossibly closer. Wanda’s fingers gripped your waist like she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go.

The intensity made your knees weak, made your mind spin.

But just as quickly as it started, reality slammed into you like a freight train.

You pushed her away, panting. “Wanda, I—”

Her expression was unreadable, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that,” she said, almost pleading.

You swallowed hard. “I have a boyfriend.”

Wanda flinched at the reminder. “You don’t love him.”

Your silence was all the confirmation she needed.

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Of course. Of course you don’t.”

You ran a shaky hand through your hair, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. “And what about your boyfriend, huh? What does this mean for him?”

Something dark flashed across Wanda’s face. “He was never you.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

The weight of her words settled between you, heavy and undeniable.

For so long, you had been fighting—against each other, against your feelings, against the past. But maybe… maybe you had been fighting for the wrong reasons.

Maybe you weren’t rivals. Maybe you were just two people too afraid to admit that you had never really stopped loving each other.

And maybe… it was time to stop fighting at all.

\*/

You ended things with your boyfriend the next day.

It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t pretty. But it was necessary. Because Wanda had been right—your heart had never truly belonged to anyone else.

And as for Wanda…

Well, she wasn’t far behind.

She showed up at your locker that afternoon, her usual smirk replaced with something softer, something real.

“So…” she started, leaning against the lockers, “you free later?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why? Planning on dragging me into another emotionally charged confrontation?”

Wanda grinned. “Tempting. But I was thinking something more along the lines of an actual date.”

Your heart did a stupid little flip.

You pretended to think about it. “Hmm. That depends. Are you finally ready to admit that you like me?”

Wanda rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the blush creeping up her neck.

“Shut up,” she muttered before grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Maybe, after all this time, it finally was.

[celeste-clearwater-06]

The Kitchen Window (pt. 4)

Bayverse! Raphael x Fem! Reader

desc- (everything finally clicks into place when you're invited over to Vern's place. some new friends mean new experiences)

warnings - swearing

word count - 4.7k (I told y'allll)

READ PREVIOUS PARTS HERE - one - two - three

You’ve been brooding the past couple of days. Life has been sucker punching you in the gut, one insane, unthinkable blow at a time.

Work hours are getting ridiculously longer, April O’Neil hasn’t texted you back since the night you spilled all of your secrets. And you haven’t seen or heard Raphael around. Not that important, but it still contributes to the pile of miserable shit you’re handling. Thankfully, Vannie seems to be filling that lonely space in your flat. She’s a sweet relief to see at the end of each night when you get back from work, purring and content. You hadn’t realized how nice it was to come home to someone that’s so pleased to see you. She’s helping you cope, even if just a little. A cat tree now sits in the far corner of your living room so she’s not climbing all over the counters and scratching at your sofa. Though simple, it adds a new, homey addition to the space.

This night off is uneventful. Vannie sits in your lap, fast sleep, while you mindlessly scroll on your phone and sip on a glass of fruit juice that’s been sitting in your fridge for just a little too long. Hometown highschool friends with their engagement rings and college graduation posts. Not something that you particularly yearned for, but it still hurt a little. It was probably time to pick up a damn hobby. Vern texts you. What a surprise.

[Hey kiddo]

He hasn’t called you that in a long time. It makes your throat tighten up.

[what up big man]

It takes him a second to type out another text.

[I know we haven’t seen each other much. Figured you might wanna come see my apartment? it’s nice]

An invite to your older brother’s fancy new place is the last thing you’d expected in the form of a late night message.

[tonight?]

[tommorow]

[hell yeah]

Finally, a small start to getting better. Vannie stretches in your lap and you stroke her fur.

The subway ride uptown is weird. You forget that there’s literal trains running underground, after walking to and from work for so long. It would be more exciting, if not for being sandwiched between two total strangers and the silence of people kind of just looking around. The screech of wheels on the tracks breaks it every once in a while. You’re also not a fan of the shoving and pushing of total strangers through the way-too-small sliding doors when you reach your destination, almost tripping at least twice. Rude.

At the very least, Vern’s apartment complex was just two blocks away from the subway exit. You knew the upper parts of the city were nicer, but it doesn’t really hit until you’re walking on the wide sidewalks and passing restaurants and window shops that put your cafe to shame. Even the early afternoon atmosphere just seems less heavy. There’s more light. You catch just a few more passing smiles than you usually would, up the steps into the main building, where you have to press a button and announce you’re a visitor to your older brother.

The elevator takes you to the 11th floor of the nicest complex you’ve ever been in (not that you’d been in many anyhow).

The whole way here, you've been excited to see Vern, practically bouncing with every step all the way up to his door. But now your fist freezes right above the place where you’re about to knock. Something was so off about this. You rap your knuckles on the wood anyway.

Someone opens the door, after a few shuffling footsteps, and it’s not Vern. Your heart drops.

“April?” A voice crack slips its way through your dry throat.

Oh my god. She’s told him everything.

She told your older brother all of your insane ramblings, and now she’s greeting you with a friendly smile like it’s nothing. So this is what the invitation was all about. The both of them were probably waiting inside with a psychologist or a one way ticket to a padded room. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights.

“Oh hey!” April is warm with her greeting, but it does nothing to shake the spirit of your utter confusion. To add to it all, Vern’s head peeks over hers with a weak wave of his hand and a sheepish expression.

“Hey kiddo.”

You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between them. The reporter still holds that confident, close-mouthed smile, while your older brother is struggling to keep it together.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” it’s more of a question than a statement, “Are we having a little get together or something?”

Vern tries to speak, but April cuts him off.

“Yeah we figured it’d be good to talk here!”

You can’t protest when she grabs your arm and all but drags you through the doorway and slams it shut, leaving you in the entryway of a lavish, modern, way-too-white apartment. It’s hard to process anything going on. The scenery, Vern’s guilt ridden eyes and the millions of thoughts firing in your brain are all increasingly overwhelming. You're starting to get a headache.

“L-Look, April, about the other night-“

“You don’t have to explain anything.” She pulls you again, this time in the middle of taking your shoes off and past the coat rack. You catch your brother's eye and he looks nearly as lost as you feel. April continues.

“It’s about time we talked about this anyway.”

That makes you nervous. You’re being led into a nice kitchen, Vern at your heels and watching helplessly.

“We don‘t have to!” You exclaim and yank your wrist from her determined hold, “I was just-just tired! I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep, I know I sounded like a total maniac-“

She is completely uninterested in hearing your case, instead rolling her eyes and taking hold of your arm once again.

“We can just forget this whole thing! The loneliness has been getting to me, it’s really…not…”

When you step past the wall of the kitchen you trail off, dumbfounded to silence. All and any rational thought has fled.

Raphael, your savior, the giant fucking turtle, is standing, cross-armed, and a little nervous looking, next to three others that look eerily similar in their stature and green scales, though they all wear vastly different expressions that give away their thoughts. They’re all decked in various scraps of gear and oversized clothing, and like the one in red, have different colored bandanas over their eyes.

You look and feel like a total moron. Just standing there, mouth agape, only wearing one shoe and eyes flicking between the quartet of reptiles and your brother, who’s pinching his temple between two fingers in distress. The shortest of the four offers an over exaggerated smile and wave, before being kicked in the back of the leg, by another in a blue mask. He looks immensely annoyed. You have no idea what to say and when you open your mouth to speak, a flustered gasp squeezes its way from the back of your throat.

“I told you guys this was a shit idea,” Vern says. The tallest turtle shifts his weight from one large foot to another. It’s so quiet, so awkward, and yet you’re so discombobulated, your head starts to spin and you lean against the wall for support. You knew there was more than one night assailant. But four? And all nearly the same size and appearance? This was beyond absurd.

“Okay,” your voice is quiet, but it immediately captures the attention of everyone that’s standing in the room, “Can someone, genuinely, please tell me what the fuck is happening right now.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you right away.” April speaks up from behind you. You turn to see her apologetic eyes. Your silence prompts her to continue an explanation.

“These are my friends.” She sounds like trying to tame some wild animal, and her arm sweeps out to gesture towards the four, “I just wanted to see, you know… if it was really just ‘some guy’ that stopped whoever was grabbing you.”

Guess she was right. You rotate once again at Vern who is trying to avoid eye contact.

“You knew?!”

Everyone jumps at the sudden escalation in your shocked question.

“I didn’t know how to tell you!”

You scoff.

“What, am I supposed to just tell you I’m acquainted with four, crime fighting, ninja turtles?! I’d sound batshit crazy!”

It was only fair that he thought that way. Suddenly, your distant, uninvolved brother was in your exact shoes, and your shoulders slump downwards in exasperation.

“So would I, Vern! I knew- I knew-, I wasn’t insane, but this whole situation has been eating at me for fucking weeks!”

If not for the absolute shock running through you, you would have laughed at the way April and the vigilantes just stand there and watch your argument like it’s reality TV, turning their heads each time one of you speaks up.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? You should be glad we're telling you now!”

You throw your hands in the air and roll your eyes, once again rendered speechless.

A different voice pulls you from the confrontation. It’s the one in blue, now standing a little nearer to you. He’s massive, just like the others, even more now up close. You’re still not used to them talking in perfect, clear English. Or, really, at all.

“Sorry we had to meet this way.” His voice is deep, mature, and assertive. Surely the head honcho of the group. He’s smiling like it’s a peace offering, lopsided and gentle.

“I-I don’t-“ You search for the right response, but he does the talking for you and offers a calloused, three fingered hand.

“Leonardo.”

A long pause. Then an overtaxed sigh. You accept his introduction and awkwardly take it. You’re literally shaking a talking turtle's hand.

“I guess you already know my name.”

“We sure do, angel!” Leonardo is being shoved suddenly, quickly replaced with the energetic, shortest of the party. His bandanna is orange, and he’s puffing out his chest with confidence that out’s Vern’s ego to sorry shame. It immediately puts a curious smile on your face.

“I’m Michealangelo, but all the ladies call me Mikey.”

He grabs your hand delicately and places a cool kiss to the back of it while he bows toward the floor. You can’t do anything but awkwardly chuckle and watch as the others groan and cover their faces in embarrassment. This guy was pretty funny.

“Save some for the rest of us, Mike.”

You look to the tallest, who’s pushing the thick-lensed, tortoise print glasses up his nose. He opts to wave his hand from where he’s standing, seeming to sense the already overwhelming lack of personal space you have.

“Donatello.” It’s the voice you overheard on the radio last week, that accidentally gave away Raphael’s name.

Oh. OH. It finally clicks in your brain. Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello. Raphael.

“Renaissance artists, huh?”

April meets your face with a kind of look that reads, ‘now you get it’.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Mikey kisses his flexed bicep, “Works of art.”

You laugh.

“I named my cat after Van Gogh.”

Raphael, still standing back from the group, lifts his head and meets your eyes at the mention of her. He looks away again, but a little smirk breaks as he rolls a toothpick off his tongue and in between his teeth.

The sort of shared interest seems to break a little bit of the tension, and the other three smile.

”Damn, Raph,” Mikey grins over at the ray of sunshine, “Not even gonna come say hi to your girlfriend?”

Your face flushes lightly. It’s clearly just a little jab to get under his skin, but you’re caught slightly off guard. Thankfully nobody seems to notice.

The smile’s gone, replaced with a huff of his nostril and a flick to Mikey’s head when Raphael walks over to finally introduce himself.

“Hey.”

You realize, this is the first time you’re standing in front of him without a window in the way. He’s still impossibly large. But you’re just so close. It feels almost foreign, witnessing the broad shoulders and tough plastron that pairs with those intense, forest colored eyes.

“Nice to meet you. Again.” Is all you can say, through a warm smile.

He snuffs, a sort of amused laugh, that makes you smile widely.

“Yeah. Sorry this got turned into such a big ordeal.”

“I don’t mind. I’m glad I got to put a name to the face.”

You two kind of just stare at each other in silence. Mikey doesn’t let it draw on for long.

“You need to let me see this cat!”

“Oh, of course!” You don’t realize how warm your face is until you’re grabbing your phone from your pocket.

April and Vern are standing near each other again, now a little more relaxed seeing you warm up and pull up a photo of Vannie from your camera roll while the four look over your shoulder. Mikey coos at a video of her playing with the strings of your hoodie.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

So maybe it wasn’t ideal, the execution of their plan. Maybe you felt a little betrayed by your brother and his friend.

But.

You’ve made four new friends. And, as odd as they come (and intimidating as they look), they seem to like the way you welcome into your life.

The weeks flying by after you meet the four brothers have gone so much better than before. You’re getting sleep, still working your job up at the cafe, you’ve got Vannie. And that late-night sound of the manhole sliding against asphalt in the back alleyway begins once again. Now when you awake early in the morning to its noise, you just smile and snuggle further into your covers, with the reassurance that there are no scary monsters or felons that stalk in the night. Just four city-protecting vigilantes doing what they do best.

On the weekends, you stay up late to their frequent visits to your kitchen window. They usually swing by for a quick chat or check in on you. Most of the time it’s Mikey or Raphael. Or both. Sometimes the younger will tag along just to pay Vannie a visit while you and Raphael make playful small talk. Donnie will come through your area every once in a while, and though he doesn’t talk as much as his other brothers, it’s a refreshment to just listen to him talk about the state of the city and whatever new nerdy experiment he’s got going on. Leo rarely visits, unless you happen to catch them all leaving the sewer exit and he sticks around to hear you tell a crazy story about a rude customer or stupid order you’ve had to deal with during the week.

It’s so refreshing to have friends to talk to, even if it’s not every day.

Along with these pop ins, Raph’s been leaving things in your window on some of the nights you’re sleeping or coming home extra late from long shifts. Sometimes it’s a cool rock he found (who knows where), other times, an old abandoned action figure, or more recycled toys for Vannie. Your collection had accumulated on the dresser in your bedroom. It’s sweet.

Sometimes, you return the favor and leave him a cold drink you made at work by the open window before you flop into bed, exhausted. Summer’s rolling around the corner and even the nights get hot, especially considering moving around the city with all of his (badass) parkour. On occasion, you’ll make some for his siblings too, but the weird looks from your coworkers, leaving the shift with a cup holder full of unpaid drinks, limits this to every once in a while.

You don’t know it, but Raph feels so spoiled by your gifts to him.

Life is going so great, and you can feel the stone wall of his gruff exterior start to break when he chuckles at one of your jokes. Your heart warms when you think about him at work. As much as you enjoy seeing all of the brothers, it’s the red-banded one you’re drawn closest to. He makes you feel kind of giddy. It’s hard to put a label on it, but you’d love to call him your best friend, if not, one of your only.

It’s sticky and humid outside, on a late Saturday night in June. You’ve been watching a movie in your bedroom, with Vannie nestled beside you, sleeping, a bowl of microwave popcorn in your lap. The tv’s loud enough to almost drown out a little noise that comes from the kitchen. You barely hear it, but it catches your attention and you quickly snatch the remote to pause the movie.

Tap, tap, tap.

You smile. The shifting of the bed wakes up your cat, and she watches as you throw off the duvet and walk from the bedroom into the hall, bowl of popcorn in hand. When you pass the hall door, Raphael is grinning at you through the window and you fast-walk over to unlock the latch and slide it open. Humid air immediately flows in with his smug smile. Now you remember why the window was closed.

“Hey stranger.”

He snorts, and leans to rest his forearms on the sill.

“Whaddup, short stack?”

You shrug, and then offer out the bowl for him to take from. Raph grabs a handful and stuffs it in his mouth.

“What brings you to this part of town at…” you look at the stove clock, “3 in the morning.”

Raph talks while he’s chewing. A usually crude performance that you find kind of endearing.

“Slow night,” He swallows, and there’s a crumb on the corner of his lip, “Not a lot goin on for us out here.”

You nod, trying not to laugh at the leftovers that he clearly doesn’t notice. He quirks a brow.

“What?”

You reach out to try and swipe at it with your thumb but Raph flinches backwards.

“Come here!” Your laugh is soft, “You got something.”

He brings his face a little close and you wipe it away. It’s the first time you’ve touched his face, you realize. It’s cool, but there’s softer skin on his snout compared to the rest of his leathery scales. You try not to linger on it too much. He sees it on your thumb and playfully rolls his eyes. You can’t tell for sure, but there seems to be a little warmth creeping on his face. There’s tension.

“Yeah, I was savin’ that for later.”

Raph swats your hand away and you laugh.

“That hungry, huh?”

He nods.

“Actually yeah. We got leftover pizza at the lair, but I’m not supposed to be goin back for a while.”

“Want me to make you something real quick?”

He seems a little surprised at your offer (not like he’s gonna turn it down). You hear his stomach grumble.

“Can’t say no to that. How long you think it’ll take ya?”

“Probably a little bit. Do you wanna come inside?”

The invitation leaves your lips before you can think. None of the brothers had actually come inside your apartment before. It takes everything in you not to cringe and brace for the impact of his rejection while Raph looks at you with a perplexed glint in his eyes.

“Sure,” his answer sounds nonchalant, but his grin tells you a whole different story, “Dunno how you expect me to squeeze through this teeny little window though.”

You ponder for a second.

“You think you can sneak up to my front door?”

Raph shrugs.

“I can try. If I die, tell everyone it was your fault.”

You laugh.

“‘Vigilante turtle is found dead trying to get some of the worlds best chicken and rice.’ I can read the headlines now.”

He just shakes his head with a smirk, and then jumps off the fire escape.

“See you in a few.”

You shut the window, and in 45 seconds, there’s a knock at the door, and you rush over to open it and quickly let him in. Raph has to duck just a little to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe.

“Welcome to my crib.” It’s cringe, the way you lightly punch his shoulder.

“God, you sound like Mikey.”

“That was the goal.”

The turtle rolls his eyes, and then looks around the living room with a little smile.

“Gotta get you some decorations in here.”

You sigh.

“I know. I’m not here all the time. Plus I think Vannie would just knock shit over.”

Meow

“Speaking of.”

She’s already making her way over to him from your room, and rubs herself against his muscular calf.

“Hey kitty.”

Raph bends to give her head a little scritch, not following you over to the kitchenette where you’re pulling thawed chicken from the refrigerator.

“I think she missed you.”

He doesn’t respond, just looks up at your turned body, as you fill a small pot with water from the kitchen tap.

“You said chicken and rice, huh?”

You nod, looking back at him. He’s walking over to you, sandaled feet scuffing on the carpet.

“Small-apartment-owner staple. Plus it’s easy.”

He’s standing behind you now, arms crossed, and curiously watching as you turn on two of the stove burners.

“Probably not for me. I burn just about everythin I touch.”

You think quietly to yourself, the irony of such a hothead setting a bowl of cereal up in flames.

“This is super simple. I’ll teach you if you want.”

“Oh so you’re a barista and a culinary teacher

“This is one of the only things I can cook. You wanna cut up some of that for me?”

Raph sees you gesture to the unopened package of chicken, while you’re pouring a cup of white rice into the pot of slowly boiling water. Cutting, he could do.

The two of you work silently in the small space, ducking over and under each other to grab utensils and spices. You instruct him here and there, but still leave room for the comfortable quiet that’s settled in the air.

After about 15 minutes, you pour a bowl for each of you (his is filled just a little bit more than yours) and invite him to sit on the couch to eat together. The first bite he takes has his eyes rolling in the back of his head with a guttural groan. You flush from behind your fork.

“Good?”

“Fuckin good.”

Your giddy smile says it all. It’s flattering the way he eats without saying a word. You’re so at ease, sitting criss-cross on the couch next to this beast of a guy, both enjoying the comforts of a meal your mom had taught you how to make long before you had left for New-York. This felt so domestic. When he's done, Raph wipes his mouth and sets the bowl down on your coffee table, fork clattering against the ceramic, and leans back on the couch with a stretch. You’re only halfway through your dinner.

“That’s some Gordon Ramsey shit.”

You scoff.

“Hardly. But thank you.”

“Nah, thank you. I’m gettin tired of all that takeout Mike brings home.”

His eyes are closed, hands resting on his plastron, and feet kicked up onto the coffee table. Beautiful, you think, and you’re surprising yourself again with the thought. You take advantage of his relaxed eyes, eyes trailing up the long, muscular extent of his body. A weird, warm sensation trills its way up your body, when his broad chest moves with a heavy breath, stopping it’s way at your lungs to give them gentle squeeze. It slows your chewing. When Raph’s eyes open, you quickly focus your attention back down to the food that you’ve suddenly become full from. He says something that you have to ask him to repeat.

“Show me around?”

“O-oh. Yeah sure.” You stand fast, and clumsy, bowl taking its place next to his. You awkwardly adjust your shirt and wait for him to stand from the couch. He follows you down the short hallway.

“Here’s the bathroom,” you point to your right, and wait for him to kind of peek his head around for a moment, “And here’s my room.”

The movie on the tv is still paused, but it lights the room with a warm glow, along with the dim led lights strung up in the corners of the small space. A simple twin-sized bed in the middle, in between a matching bedside table and dresser. Raph steps into the room past you. It looks so cramped with his massive body in here. You can’t stop his eye catching the little collection of trinkets, lined up in a neat row, on top of the black dresser. His grin is small.

“Was wonderin if you kept all this shit,” He chuckles, picking up one of the little superhero action figures and admiring it. His whole hand engulfs the toy, which is covered in scuffs and scratch marks from years of play.

“Can’t see a reason why I wouldn’t.”

Raphael’s response is a relaxed smile when he looks over his shoulder at you. Your heart skips. He turns again and gently sets the figure in its place.

“This your family?”

He’s referring to the framed picture of you, Vern and your parents behind the line of his little gifts.

“Yeah. My mom and her husband.”

Raph lifts it and you walk over to look at it with him. It’s from a few years prior.

“Not your dad?”

You shake you head.

“Vern’s dad. But we’re close.”

The four of you are in mid laugh, in the selfie that you take with an outstretched arm. You remember taking it on a vacation in the mountains.

“Vern’s always got that stupid look on his face.”

You snicker, shaking your head.

“Yeah. Idiot.”

Once again, Raph places it in its exact spot. It makes your knees shake a little when he’s looking down at you, just centimeters away from your body. To ignore and prevent anymore weird and confusing tension to build, you flop backwards on your bed with a sigh.

“Whatcha bitchin about now?”

You smile up at the ceiling.

“Just don’t wanna go back to work.”

He sits on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah. Sounds boring.”

You nod, even though he’s not looking at you. You can feel the warmth of his leg bouncing next to yours.

“Whatcha thinking about, Red?”

“Nothin’ important.”

You tilt your head down just a little to see his massive shell facing you. He’s hunched over. You kick him lightly, and he knocks your leg away gently.

“Come onnn, talk to meeee.”

You go to kick him again, but Raph grabs your leg and tickles the back of it. You squeal.

“STOP,” the fight is useless, kicking and scrambling to get away, with an ornery grin on his face, “I’m gonna piss myself!”

With that he backs off, and you’re heaving through laughter.

“Mean.”

“Annoying.”

His smile is wiped away with another thought crossing.

“What time is it?” You both glance at the digital clock on the bedside table behind you.

“Shit. Almost five.”

“Yeah. I better get goin. Gettin’ late- or, I guess early.”

You follow him up to the front door, walking past Vannie who’s playing with that first cat toy he left on your window.

Raph reaches for the door handle, but stops.

“Thanks for lettin me in. And for the food.”

You smile softly.

“Anytime, Raph.”

You didn’t mean to stop so close to him, but here you are, smile slowly fading while you look up at his face. His eyes have got you in a strong hold, and he mirrors your expression, unintentionally. His nostrils flare with a breath outwards.

You want to kiss him, all of a sudden.

Kiss Raphael right on the mouth and not have a care about it.

But you don’t. He grins.

“Stay safe.”

“You too.”

The click of the closing door is your cue to slap your hands over your face in exasperation.

He’s left you with dirty dishes, an empty space, and flustered, red cheeks. You smile behind your hands hearing the scrape of Raphael heading back down into the sewers

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

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[distracted-milkshake]

Like ‘Em Weird - Steven Grant x reader

Warnings: bri’ish reader, non explicit sex, snogging tf out of Steven, general embarrassment, slight jerk Marc

Words: 4k

Rating: M

Summary: A fast moving relationship halts abruptly when the cute guy you met at a cafe wakes up a completely different person.

or

How you helped Steven figure out his body has multiple tenets, and that he doesn’t mind sharing it it’s you

I haven’t actually finished Moon Knight, so any inconsistencies or straight up false stuff is on me. Other guy isn’t here because I haven’t met him yet

Whipping up 1-5k oneshots while I can't get even ten in on my wip is such a me thing it's not even laughable anymore

Also! I have read a lot about DID and talked with friends who have it, and the portrayal of the reader does not represent kind or correct treatment of people with such issues at all, just wanted to be clear that I as the author know that and this isn’t any sort of handbook

AO3 link

“You gonna talk to me or just keep staring?” 

Steven blinks, immediately feeling his hands and cheeks go hot. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was staring–!” He quiets as you stand and drag your metal chair the few feet across the cafe patio to his table, plopping into it. 

“Hi.” He murmurs, eyes dropping to his lap as he wrings his hands. 

”Hey,” You reach your hand over the table, flashing a smile, introducing yourself. 

“Steven Grant.” He shakes it, adjusting in his seat.

“No worries, by the way. I never know how to start a conversation either.” 

“I am so sorry, really, I hadn’t noticed. I uh, I don’t do that, I swear, I was just sort of spaced out.” He sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, running a hand through his hair to get it off his face. “I don’t usually see a lot of pretty girls around, not ones that I find pretty– well, I mean there’re plenty of pretty girls, just not as– you just…” he swallows, wishing he could sink far enough into his chair to disappear from the face of the Earth. 

“God I wish I could start over.” He says. 

“This conversation, or since you started staring?” 

“My life at this point.”

“Take as long as you need.” You grin. 

“My name’s Steven, I work in a gift shop.” 

“At the museum?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, sitting up straighter. 

“I knew it, I’ve seen you before! I love that place.” 

“Ah! Me too! It’s ahm, probably about my favorite place in the world.” 

He goes off about something having to do with history, half of which you don’t quite follow, but you listen anyway. 

He tells you about several different exhibits from the museum he works at, stuff that isn’t on the little plaques, going on tangents here and there about the origins of popular misconceptions. 

“…and that’s just off the top of my head; numerous examples of it.” He takes a sip of his coffee, suddenly seeming to realize something. 

“Shit. Im sorry, I’ve been talking entirely too much. You want to tell me about you?” 

“No, it’s cool, I get it.” You laugh. “You read a lot.” 

“Oh loads, anything that interests me, I love books.” 

“Music's my thing.” You say. 

“Oh, do you play?” 

“Nah, I collect. CDs mostly, vinyl sometimes.” You finish your drink, setting your cup aside. 

“I’d love to get into it, but I should be going. Do you wanna get dinner sometime?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” he nods and you pull out your phone, handing it to him to put his number in.

“I’m vegan, but anywhere you like is fine though. Saturday work?” He says. 

“Saturday’s brilliant.” You click your phone closed when he turns it back to you, tucking it back in your pocket. 

“Brilliant.” 

“I’ll call you with the place. See ya then.” 

“See ya.” 

Saturday rolls around, and you get off the bus to a lovely little Indian place with a bounce in your step. 

You had double checked thy had plenty of vegan options, spending the last few days trying and failing not to text Steven every half hour. 

“Sorry! I got put on inventory again.” Steven huff as he bounds up to you, making you feel a little silly as he’s all dressed up. 

“You’re right on time actually. I just came early.” 

“Oh, thank goodness.” He says, exhaling heavily and straightening his back. 

He holds up a “Um, these are for you.” 

“Oh my God.” You smile, taking them from him and turning them over. 

“I hate flowers, but that has got to be about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” 

“Sorry, I’ll uh, I’ll remember that.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about, I appreciate it. Shall we?” You gesture to the restaurant door. 

“Oh– Of course,” Steven sidesteps to hold open the door for you, and you both head in. 

Seated with your food on the way, you look your date up and down expectantly, to which he sets his drink down and explains. 

“I am keeping my mouth sealed unless spoken to. Even if it means I’m staring.” He jokes at the end with a smirk. 

“Sure you’re going to be able to stick to that?” You tease, taking a long sip from your mango lassi. 

“Sure am. Talk to me.” 

So you do. 

You tell him all about where your from, your favorite band, the kinds of movies and shows you like, and he chimes in with his own, careful not to dominate the conversation with his preferred topics, which as much as you love the sound of his voice, you’re grateful for. 

“You know there’s something special about you maybe.” He says when you’re about finished with your meal. “I feel like I just click with you. Is that weird?” 

“No, it’s not weird.” You shake your head, meeting his eyes. “That’s not weird at all.” 

You walk with him down the street, hands in your pockets from the slight chill, but keeping close enough your arms are almost touching. 

It’s quiet, and it’s a comfortable quiet, but you can’t help but feel nagged at by a lack of something. 

You come to an intersection, and Steven turns to you. 

“Well, thank you, for going out with me.” You take him in, framed in the streetlight, messy hair and nice clothes, pretty eyes catching the light. 

“I hope you have a great rest of your night–” 

You push him against the brick wall of the building closest and catch his lips in a kiss, startling him as his hands hover over your shoulders, then your arms, before finding your back and waist, pulling you close. 

He kisses back confidently at first, then out of sync, then trying to pull away, saying something muffled. 

“Good?” You break the kiss to ask, wetting your lips. 

“Yeah. S’prised me’s all.” He says, breathing heavy. “I just wanted to say I think you’re gorgeous.” 

You pull him back into it with almost feverish urgency, pushing your tongue past his lips and to the roof of his mouth where you find his and press and move against it roughly, hand finding the back of his head to tilt just enough to have the perfect angle to explore. 

You recede to let him breathe and Steven catches a dribble of spit with the back of his hand, looking mortified as he having no where else wipes in on his coat. 

You bite your tongue to keep from laughing, wiping his bottom lip with your thumb. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sorry that’s gross, I dunno if I’ve ever been kissed like that, I’ve no idea how,” he wipes his lips again. 

“It’s not like movies. Very, very wet.” 

“You talk a lot for someone who stares.” 

“In the restaurant. Out here I’ve dropped it now. You know I don’t know if I want to be remembered as that guy in your head.” 

“Something else, then?” 

“I’m cool with gift shop guy.” He says as you give him lighter pecks on the mouth. 

“Much better than spaced out Steven.” You giggle, tracing his cheekbone around back to his ear and down his beck, letting your thumb slip under his collar as you press your forehead against his. 

“Yeah well, I find it hard to get a good night’s sleep.” 

“I’d like to get a good one with you.” 

“Hmnn?” His eyes flit to your lips and then back up to yours, bewildered. 

“Oh, oh you mean!” He pulls back and gives an enthusiastic nod, a wide smile on his face.

“Hells yeah.” 

“I like your apartment,” Steven says under his breath between dizzying kisses in your entryway, watching you alternate between his throat and kissing him with utter fascination, unsure how to keep up or what to do with just how expertly you’re making him fall apart. 

“You haven’t seen it yet.” 

You pull him by the wrist through your living space, past the couch to your bedroom, where you shut the door and shuck off his jacket. 

“Do you have a condom?” He asked before you can devour any attempts he has at talking again with your mouth. 

“Yeah, one sec.” You dig around in your nightstand drawer, pulling one out and turning back to give Steven a gentle shove onto the bed, climbing atop him and undoing his buttons with your free hand. 

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Steven says when you finish with his top and strip off your own, tearing the condom open and sitting back on your haunches. “This is unbelievable.” 

You grab him by the chin, making his heart skip a beat. “Let’s aim for unforgettable.” You say. 

Steven lays on his back, hands on his chest, having finally caught his breath. 

“That was lovely.” He says. 

“Lovely?” You repeat, stretching your spine, side eying him. 

He turns on his elbow you look at you. “Lovely. Amazing. Mind blowing. All of the above.” 

“Been awhile?” You chuckle, tracing his collarbone to his shoulder before hooking your arm over it. 

“You have no idea.” As lost in your eyes he is, he pulls away to check the time, sitting up. 

“I um, I should get back to my apartment,” he moves to get off the bed, and you sit up after him, catching his wrist. “Hey wait. Don’t be ridiculous, stay.”

“No, I uh…” Steven stops himself, not wanting to mess this up. If he told you he had some weird sleep condition, that he literally bolted himself to his bed to sleep every night for fear of missing hours or waking up places he didn’t recognize, he was certain that was the kind of thing that would scare you off. 

That look you're giving him, that half lidded, cocksure smile, still topless and not even trying to cover it, it’s convincing enough on its own. 

“That’d be just fine. Yeah. Yeah okay.” He relaxes back into the bed and you lean up and kiss him. 

“Great.” You murmur, pulling him in and tugging the covers back over you. 

Maybe just one night would be fine. 

Marc wakes up in an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar woman in bed next to him.

You stir, burrowing your face into the pillows before you feel the bed spring back, blinking your eyes open and pulling yourself up just enough to see him retrieving his clothes from the floor. 

“Hey, no rush, it’s Sunday, come ‘ere.” 

“I’m sorry, you seem nice and all, but I was not supposed to wake up here.” 

“What happened to your accent?” You laugh humorlessly, brow knitting. 

“Accent? Jesus, I don’t have time for this, I’ve got to be in Madripoor in like two hours, that idiot was supposed to be back at his apartment.” 

He gathers up the rest his things as he mutters to himself. “Yeah yeah I know, I can get to the justice after I get back to his apartment and sort things out there. I swear if this is what gets him… yes. Of course I’m grateful. I will handle it.” 

“Hey, wait!” You pull a t-shirt and pajama pants on, following him into your living room, but by then he’s already got his shoes on. 

He opens and struts right out your front door without another word, slamming it behind him. 

Monday afternoon you take your lunch break to head down to he museum, stomping right up and into the corner gift shop, where sure enough, Steven sits twiddling a pen while he reads. 

He sets aside both when he sees you, smile falling when he sees your face. 

You plant your palms and lean directly over the counter, huffing. 

“Hey, you know I really can’t believe I fell for your shy soft boy act, you pull that on everyone? Or was I just ‘special’ enough to catch your attention?” 

“What? I– what are you talking about– hey!” He jumps up from his seat as you push back from the counter, folding your arms. 

“I mean what on Earth is wrong with you!” You stare him down as he rounds his station to speak with you. 

“Hey, whatever I said, I’m sorry? I don’t– I didn’t mean it– will you please tell me what you are talking about?” 

“You jerk. Can you go one minute without lying? Rhetorical, because you obviously can, if it’s convenient to getting in my pants. God! I can’t believe I slept with you.” 

“You slept with me?!” He exclaims, hunching over as a couple passerbys give him looks, making you roll your eyes. “Holy shit, I thought I dreamt that.” He says mostly to himself, tugging at the hair behind his ear. 

You look at him, jittery, wrinkled clothes, chewing at his thumbnail. 

“Are you high?” You ask, tilting your head to get a better look at his face, trying to make out if it’s a bruise or just bags under his eyes. 

He quickly shakes his head. “No, no-no-no, I-I don’t do pills or anything. I mean, maybe I should, to be honest– but I’ve never done drugs of any kind.” 

You throw up your hands. “Why would I believe you after yesterday!” 

“Yesterday? Why– What happened yesterday.” 

“Unbelievable. You know, you aren’t worth this. Don’t text me anymore.” You turn to the door, but his whirls around you in a panic, blocking you. 

“Wait! Wait, please. Look I don’t know what happened the other night, but I assure you that's not me, I’m not like that, I would never say stuff like that, I’d never use you, I like you! I really like you, and I don’t want to never see you again.” 

You study his expression, torn between how completely devoid of any sort of dishonesty it looks, paired with how desperate his tone is, and just who you remember walking out of your apartment. 

“You’re acting completely different now.” You shake your head, hanging it and letting out a long sigh before looking back up at him, which you immediately regret because he has the saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “I have to get to work. If you think you can explain to me just what the hell is going on with you, meet me at the park at six thirty, I’ll… I’ll hear you out.” 

“Thank you,” he folds his hands, needing to shout after you as you make to leave. “I won’t let you down, I promise!”

You give a dismissive wave as you head out museum's front doors. 

“…and that’s all I know, I swear.” You’re seated on a bench in the park. By now the sun has set, and the lights are the only illumination with a cloudy night sky. 

“I believe you.” You sigh, letting the leg you’d been sitting on down from the bench to stretch. “How often does this happen?” 

“Most nights. I’ve been trying not to sleep because of it.” 

You shake your head. “Why the hell haven’t you gone to a doctor?” 

“Because I can sort it, it’s fine. You go to a doctor if you're sick, I’m not sick.” He fiddles with his hands, realizing your looking at them he smoothes them down his pants and keeps them on his knees. 

“Sleepwalking isn’t sick. It-it’s just like, stress, or something.” Even saying it aloud he didn’t believe it, but what was the alternative? That he was legitimately mad? 

“Steven, look at me. You need to get help for this. That's mental. It’s not normal. Tell me you’ll get help.” 

“I’ll look into it.” He scratches at his 

You frown. “And mean it. You need help.” 

“I mean it, I will get help.” He nods when you put a hand over his, pulling him into a side hug. 

“Thank God.” You murmur. 

Two months later, you and Steven are kind of dating. 

Though your relationship had taken a big step back, you still texted and called him frequently. You didn’t feel like you could bring yourself to getting any closer, not when you still didn’t know who you had woken up in bed with. 

Today he’s over for tea, on your couch with his hands folded, helping himself to the biscuits you put out. 

You come back from putting the water on, stuffing a couple cookies in your mouth before he can eat them all. 

“Oh! I erm, I got you a copy of that new CD from that band you like.” Steven digs around in his bag, pulling out a still wrapped album, handing it to you. 

“Holy cow.” You scoff as you take it. 

It was the newest release from your favorite band, and had been sold out everywhere for more than two weeks. 

“I can’t believe you remembered. I’m putting this on right now.” You pop on the stereo, slow rock jams filling the apartment as the water boils and you bring the pot to the table, filling Steven’s cup. 

“So how are you doing?” You ask. 

“Oh, mostly good. I still haven’t figured him, Marc, out much, but I am sleeping better.” 

“You figure out just what ‘he’ is yet.” 

“No, still no diagnosis. I’m having trouble finding a therapist I like. I also, you know, not keen on institutionalization.” 

“Right. Well I mean so long as he doesn’t decide to go on some break.” You grimace, wondering what the hell he could’ve had been up to in Madripoor of all places, if he’d even been serious. 

“Beg your pardon?” 

“Never mind.” You give your hand a wave.” I still can’t believe I’m how you found out.” 

“Hey now hang on, I knew, I just didn’t know why.” He stands up to be at your height, annoyed. 

“Or how, or what.” You give him a look. 

“Yeah. But I did know.” He shrugs. “Even though he was trying to keep it from me.” 

“Well yeah, probably because you’re the nice one. Marc is a prick.” 

“The hell did she just say about me!?” Marc growls, catching his eye in his reflection in your tea kettle. 

Steven blinks. “He didn’t like that.” 

You draw your brow, frowning. “He can hear me?” 

“Apparently? I don’t get most of it myself, I didn’t think he could hear me till like last week.” 

You push off the back of the couch. “Tell him to come out here and talk to me right now.” 

“Uh, right, sure, yeah. Marc, you heard her.” He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

When he opens them again, you slap him across the face. 

He cups his cheek, turning to look at you. “Still Steven!” 

“Shit– I’m sorry!” You cover your mouth. 

“You were going to smack him? But that’s me!” 

“I thought– I didn’t think it through, really. Is he not there?” 

“I can’t really make him come out, he just kind of does it if I let him.” 

“I’m sorry I hit you.” You say. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “He totally deserves it. Prick is right on the money.” 

“Even so, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Already better.” He smiles. “Though a kiss wouldn’t hurt…” 

You raise a brow and smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

You hang out a while longer before heads home, leaving you to think. 

“I want to date her too.” 

“What?” Steven looks up at his mirror from across the room. “You won’t tell me where you’ve been pissing years of my life away, what you’ve been doing, but now you want to meddle with the one good thing that’s happened to me, after you nearly screwed it all up? That’s rich.” 

“I didn’t want much of anything to do with her until I saw the way she slapped you, I mean, that was unexpected.”

“She’s for sure, isn’t she? All the more reason you will not seeing her unless she asks.” 

“Let me talk to her or I’ll break up with her.” 

“We’re not together…ish. I don’t know, it’s not the simplest.” 

“I’ll ghost her. Delete her contacts. You know I will.” 

“Alright! Okay, fine. Jesus.” 

He picks up his phone. “Don’t you negotiate in anything but threats?” He starts to dial your number, then stops. 

“Hang on… you’re jealous, aren’t you?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You're jealous I have a girlfriend and you don’t. And she doesn’t talk nicely about you.” 

“I’d stop talking now.” 

“Holy shit, that’s hilarious. You act like you think my life is boring, but you envy it.” 

Marc glares at him, jaw working. 

“I’ll tell you what, I will set you up, but you have to tell me what you’ve been doing, and where you've been taking me.” 

“Khonshu’s not gonna like that.” 

“Again with bloody Khonshu. You’re flipping bending over backwards for that fool. Figure it out, cause that’s that.” 

“Fine.” 

“Perfect. Done deal.” 

He hits dial. “Hey so uh, Marc wants to meet you. Properly. I’ve told him he needs to apologize.” Marc rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. “Right. Yeah. Can you meet me?” 

“This… Marc the Merc, the pissy one?” You say, looking him over. You’d met Steven not far from the museum, and held his hand while he relaxed and let Marc take over. 

“Yes, it’s me again. Hi.” You meet his eyes, feeling oddly bothered by just how the same they look. It’s Steven, but it’s not. 

It’s painfully not him, and yet you can’t put into words how. 

“Hey,” you say, not sure what else you’re supposed to. 

“Let’s get this part out of the way: I’m sorry I walked out on you. It’s Steven’s fault we were there at all, and I had shit to attend to, but I was less than curt about it.” 

“Accepted, if that’s the best I’m going to get.” You nod, and he gestures for you to walk with him, so you do. 

“I haven’t been keeping tabs. What’s he been telling you about me?” He says. 

“Not a lot. I mean, he barely knows you, and neither do I.” 

“There’s not a lot to tell. He’s not supposed to be tangled with my life, but, since he is, I figure we might as well share.” 

You stop, and he does too. 

“What?” He says. “I’m willing to be more open if you are.” 

“What are you talking about? Are you saying you want to get with me?” 

“Would you like to?” 

He looks you right in the eyes, catching you off guard. Before you can answer he cups your face and kisses you, arm around your lower back, nearly lifting you off the ground. 

You pull away, eyes wide, breath ragged, trying to get your brain to catch up with your body, realizing you're right in the street where everyone can see you. 

“Too much?” He asks. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Just– just surprised me.” It’s quiet for a moment. 

“His apartment’s not far,” he finally says. “If you wanna see just how much of a prick I am.” 

You stare up at your boyfriend’s apartment ceiling, wondering what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. 

You turn when you hear footsteps coming back to the bed. 

“Hi,” he gives you a little wave, holding out a cup of tea. 

You sit up on your elbows, slowly taking it. “Steven?” You say tentatively. 

“Yep, it’s me.” You stand up, throwing back half the cup and setting it aside, swallowing. “Everything go okay?” He asks.

You nearly knock him over in a hug, burying your face into his shoulder. 

“Better than okay,” you say, smiling against his bare skin. 

“Really? Oh, Gods, that's a relief.” He wraps his arm around you, pressing his nose to the top of your head. 

“Marc was different than I thought.” 

“Now we’re even, he said he’d cooperate with me some more, so I think it all works out?” 

“I love you. Both of you.” 

“Really? It’s not too weird?” 

“Hey,” you press a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “I like ‘em weird.” 

Even though you had next to no idea what was to come, between you, Steven, and Marc, you were confident you would figure it out.

[just-a-creep-babe]

Hiiii! I see that your requests are open for Valentine's day? I hope I can still request nsfw for Ben 💙 Maybe friends with benefits that could lead to more? Thank you so much!! 💕

Not me accidentally writing angst for Valentine’s Day 😭😭

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Check out my ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

Masterlist: x

The night starts off like it usually does; with a text

It's the typical "you up" kind of message, and it's loaded with so much stereotypical fuckboy intention that, in any other context, it'd have you rolling your eyes

But it's not just any other context; it's BEN

You don't even have to turn the idea over in your head to know that you'll be going

You tug your shirt up over your chest to reveal your bra—a decently comfortable lacy white thing with no underwire—and snap a pic to send to him

He hearts it almost immediately, and his response is fast enough to make you wonder if he's not in your phone right now, doing god-knows-what he usually does when he's haunting tech

The three bubbles pop up, disappear, then pop back up again

It brings an involuntary smile to your face, like those kind of dumb, lovestruck smiles people get when they're hopelessly head-over-heels for someone

The realization, though it isn't the first time it comes to mind, is enough to sober you

You text him that you'll meet him in his room in 30 after you shower, and then you toss your phone onto your bed and leave without waiting for his reply

You take your time in the shower

You stand there, basking in the hot water thrumming against your skin, until the room's thick with steam

Your thoughts keep falling into the same loop; you think about your feelings for BEN, you think about the agreement you had when you first started sleeping with him, you think about the time you've spent with him since having that agreement, and you think about what he might think of the whole thing

And then that loop restarts over and over again

Even when you step out and dry yourself, you're still thinking about it

There's no answer to the mess, it seems, no solution to the hole you keep digging yourself deeper and deeper into

And that’s what bothers you the most about it

You fix your hair up, put on whatever scandalous bits of lingerie look nice, and then you're making your way out the hallway and to his room

You knock on his door using your usual code, and then you let yourself in and firmly click the lock shut behind you

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room, but as soon as they do, you see him

He's lying back, one hand behind his head while the other lazily strokes over the bulge pressing up against his boxers

He's in nothing but his underwear, and the sight of his bare skin is just as alluring as ever

That sardonic smile you've come to adore slowly finds its way to his face as he looks up at you

He tilts his head to the side, his pointed ears twitching, and with a hum, he speaks

"I was gonna return the favour," he grins, "but you threw it away too quickly"

You feel his eyes track your every move as you walk up to him

And when you're standing right in front of his bed, you undo the knot of your night robe, and the fabric parts to reveal your own underwear

"Threw what away?" you ask, though it seems he's in no rush to answer you as he takes in everything you've just revealed to him

He fists the shape of his cock through his boxers, and you watch as it twitches in his hold, and he juts his hips forwards as it does, like he can't control the movement

It reminds you of the way he pushes himself deeper into you when he's cuming, and the memory has you squeezing your thighs together as something molten stirs in your core

"Your phone," he eventually answers, his eyes slipping over the curve of your tits before finally resting on your face

"I was gonna give you a sneak peak too, you know," he teases

"That so?"

You get on the bed, straddle him so that his bulge is right between your thighs, and slowly rock your hips down against him

He hisses—the sound low and needy and entirely too addictive—and throws his head back as his hips wriggle up to meet you halfway

You have to mention it, you think

You can't keep pretending it's not happening

You can't keep lying to yourself, lying to him

You need to confess—and let whatever happens happen

You open your mouth, the words just at the tip of your tongue

But right as it's about to spill out, his hands find their way to your bare skin, and it seems all you can do is suck in a breath through your teeth as electricity dances from his fingertips and up your spine

You arch up, yielding to his silent command, and all you can think about is how you need him inside of you

You need him to satiate you

He purrs—and you swear the bastard knows the effect it has on you, judging by the glint of mischief in his eyes

And when he tells you to take your bra off, you give in without a second thought

He runs his hands up to your chest like second nature, like it’s where his hands belong

When he thumbs at your nipples, you breathe out a sigh and roll your hips over his bulge

You feel him—hard and eager against you—and it has you clenching around nothing

All you can think about is more

He hums in approval, his gaze fixed on your tits while he greedily gropes and squeezes at your flesh

You return the favour by indulging in the feeling of his skin beneath you

You trace from his chest, down his torso and abdomen, until you eventually reach his pelvis

His skin is soft, but it isn’t warm like a normal living body

And something about that, something about how different he is, how special—it has you digging your nails into him and scratching possessive red lines into his skin

He groans, head falling back to reveal his neck, and you take the chance to lean in and bite at his throat

He chokes out a moan, his hands flying down to your hips like he’s trying to grasp onto something to steady himself

“(Y/n)—“ he practically hisses your name, and when his thumb digs harder into your pelvis, you whine and jerk on top of him

But you don’t let it distract you from littering his neck with marks

You savour the taste of his skin, licking and sucking and biting him—hard—because it feels like one of the only ways you can alleviate your longing for him

And it’s only when his thumb ghosts over your clit above your panties that you finally relent

You pull back to admire your work; he’s flushed and panting, his neck bright red, and he has that look in his eyes that you know means he’s getting impatient

Good, you think

But it’s like he knows you’re getting cocky and he doesn’t like the control you have, so in retaliation, he sends mini shocks up through your clit

Your body seizes with the feeling, back arching up again, and with his free hand, he returns to lather your tits with more attention

You squirm on top of him, and it has his cock grinding between your puffy folds through your underwear

“You want my dick, baby?”

He has this grin on his face as he says it, because both of you know he’s just asking to hear you beg for it

And you do want it—and you want so much more than just his dick, too

So it doesn’t bother you to beg

It doesn’t bother you to bounce on him so that your tits jiggle from the motion, and it doesn’t bother you to beg and stick your tongue out like a desperate little slut for him—just the way he likes it

His cock twitches in reaction at the sight of you, and when he pushes your underwear to the side and strokes his fingers up and down your dripping slit, you shudder

He sinks his middle finger between your swollen folds, curls it up, then adds his ring finger

It’s bliss

You grind down to meet him for every thrust, and every time he curls his finger, your body sings for more

You ride his fingers, hands touching anywhere and everywhere they can reach, searching for more—always more

You arch your back again and bring his free hand to your chest, and he rewards you by thumbing at your clit

It has your arousal gushing out with some indignant whimper

As he’s slowly pumping in and out of you, watching your every reaction, your every little moan and gasp and shudder, the hand at your tits moves down to find its way to his dick

“I want it,” you breathe, “let me have it”

Let me have you, you think, but you don’t say it out loud because you don’t want to ruin the moment

“Then sit on it,” he groans

He pulls his fingers out, and you immediately miss the contact, but the disappointment is dulled by the sight of him finally exposed

You bite back a moan as you wrap your hand around the base of him

He twitches again, precum beading up his tip, and you have to resist lapping it up while he watches

Instead, you line him up and ever so slowly sink down onto him

You savour it—savour every inch of him spreading you open, stretching you out and grinding right where you need him

He watches you with lidded eyes, and when he has your attention, he makes sure you see the way he sucks on his two fingers that were previously buried in your cunt

You squeeze him involuntarily, and he groans with a smile

“B-BEN, I—“

Your confession threatens to overwhelm you

It threatens to bubble out your throat and past your lips, because it’s like having him inside of you like this makes the longing all the more unbearable

But then he pushes his hips up, and it has his dick nudging up against something so deep inside of you that your toes curl and your cunt squelching around him

So all that escapes is a whimper and a moan, and you’re back to moving your hips up and down to ride him

The slightest movement has your body burning for more

He’s throbbing inside you, and every time he thrusts up into you, you clench around him and waves of slick make a mess between the both of you

Your thoughts turn to mush as your brain’s overridden by the feeling of him

Up and down, you bounce on him, driving him harder, faster, deeper inside of you with every thrust

And when he brings his hands around your hips to guide you, to help you fuck yourself along his length, it has you mewling for more

Over and over again, you drive yourself up and down

And every time you tighten around him, he jerks inside of you and tiny shocks course up your body

The familiar rush of pressure builds, your body screaming for more

And every time you move, your arousal sticks between your thighs and his, and it leaves a ring of your slick at the base of his cock

But all of it just makes it easier to ride him, to use him until you’re both panting and you’re steadily losing your grasp on the pace you’d set

“F-fuck—atta girl~ So fucking good for me~”

The way he praises you between moans coaxes you to keep going faster

His hands keep flitting between your hips and your tits, like he doesn’t know which to choose

But he eventually settles on your hips and keeps his gaze on your face, on your lips as you bite them back to stop yourself from screaming his name out

“You close, baby? C’mon, be a good girl for me. Be a good girl and cum all over me”

His praise threatens to push you over the edge

You dig more possessive marks into him, fingers clutching him tight for all he’s worth, and his eyes roll back and his hips push up into you at the feeling

You moan his name like a wordless plea for him to cum inside you

You want him to fill you, want him to claim you

Your cunt sucks him in, tight and wet and all-too inviting, and he hissed at the feeling as he flexes his hips as deep into you as possible

Your name escapes him, and the sound of it resonates within you, and if it weren’t for your orgasm taking the breath from your lungs, you’re not entirely certain you’d be able to stop yourself from confessing right then and there as you cum around him

Everything inside your body tenses, and then all at once, your high hits you, and next thing you know, you’re lurching forward and shaking and crying out for him

He presses you closer into him, but his hips never once relent as he chases his own high

Your nails dig into his hair, pulling it back so that you can bite into his neck again

And it’s like that’s all it takes for him to get over the edge as well

He fucks himself as deep as he can possibly reach, and then his cock stiffens and twitches, and you feel him spill the entirety of himself inside you

It feels so, so fucking good

Your eyes roll back, jaw going slack to release a pathetic moan against his skin

He doesn’t stop grinding up into you until he’s completely spent, and even once he stills, you don’t move off of him

You’re panting against him, sweaty body on sweaty body, and his hands are stroking up and down your back, his cock still twitching occasionally as you squeeze him involuntarily every now and then

You don’t want to move off of him, but you know you can’t stay linked forever

So you reluctantly get off, and lie down next to him

He grins and pulls you close to his chest

If you close your eyes, you can pretend it’s an act of love, of devotion, but you know it’s just the result of the after-bliss making him seek the comfort of another body

Your confession finally dies on your tongue as you realize you shouldn’t say it—not right now, anyways

Next time, you finally settle, your body feeling at peace, there’s always next time

[ironinc]

Hey heyyy! Love your fics 🫶🏾. Can we get a stripper x Tony Stark story? After reader finishes dancing, she takes Tony to a private room and they do more than dancing if you know what I mean 😉

The Private Room.

Tony Stark x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ Tony Stark enters the strip club, his friend's bachelor party having led him to this realm of forbidden cravings. There you are on stage, mesmerizing him with your captivating allure and elegance. He can't take his gaze off you, and the tension between you two is palpable. Will he give into his desires, or will he resist the allure of the private dance and the world it could lead him into?

⤷ Oneshot, smut, very detailed so here’s the warning! But it’s worth it. 

⤷ A/N: YAYY I LOVE REQUESTS SO MUCH!! This is my first one so thank you for your request and I hope you like it. Thank you for requesting something, it really makes me so happy.

⤷ Word count: 3,303

⤷ Special song to add spice: Wine Pon You by Doja Cat

⋆˙⟡

The bass thrummed through the floor, vibrating up through the soles of Tony’s Italian leather shoes as he stepped into the dimly lit strip club. 

The air was thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and something distinctly sinful. His tie felt too tight, his collar too constricting, and the whiskey in his hand wasn’t doing enough to dull the edge of his thoughts. 

He hadn’t wanted to come tonight—Happy’s bachelor party was supposed to be a low-key affair—but here he was, surrounded by flashing lights and the intoxicating allure of forbidden desires.

“Come on, Stark, live a little!” Happy’s voice boomed over the music, slapping Tony on the back with a force that nearly sent his drink flying. Tony shot him a half-hearted glare, but his eyes were already wandering, drawn to the stage like a moth to a flame. 

And there you were.

You moved like a predator, all grace and purpose, your body swaying to the rhythm of the music. 

The spotlight caught the shimmer of your skin, the curve of your hips, the way your eyes seemed to lock onto his from across the room. It wasn’t just a dance—it was a performance, and Tony was—pitifully—enthralled. He couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to, which he didn’t.

Your lips curled into a knowing smile as you descended from the stage, your heels clicking against the floor with each deliberate step.

The crowd parted for you as if they could sense the magnetic pull between you and the man who hadn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you appeared. Tony’s grip tightened on his glass, the ice clinking as his throat went dry.

“Tony Stark,” you purred, your voice low and sultry, like the hum of a luxury engine. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, but the way his pulse quickened betrayed him. “All good things, I hope.”

You laughed, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “Oh, I think you know the answer to that.” You leaned in, close enough that he could smell the faintest hint of your perfume—something dark and forbidden, just like the thoughts spiraling through his mind. “You look like a man who’s used to getting what he wants.”

Tony’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, his own voice dropping to match yours. “And what if I want you?”

Your smile widened, and you took his hand, your fingers cool against his skin. “Then maybe you should see what’s behind the curtain.”

The private room was more opulent than he’d expected, all velvet and gold, with a plush couch that looked like it had been designed for sin.

You guided him to it, your touch soft yet commanding, and he sat without protest. 

The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly, the world outside didn’t exist. It was just you and him, the air thick with anticipation.

You didn’t waste time. The music was softer here, a sultry beat that matched the rhythm of your movements as you began to dance. Your hips swayed, your body undulating in a way that made Tony’s mouth go dry. He leaned back, watching you through half-lidded eyes, his hands itching to touch, to claim, to possess.

“You’re not like the others,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper but somehow cutting through the music like a knife. “You’re not here to lose yourself. You’re here to find something.”

Tony’s jaw tightened, his fingers flexing against the couch. “And what do you think I’m looking for?”

You stopped dancing, stepping closer until you were standing between his legs, your eyes locking onto his. “Control,” you said, and the word hit him like a punch to the gut. “You’re a man who’s used to being in charge. But here… you’re not the one in control, are you?”

His breath caught as you leaned down, your lips brushing his ear. “Let me take the reins, Tony. Just for tonight.”

The dam broke. His hands were on you in an instant, pulling you onto his lap, his mouth crashing against yours in a kiss that was all heat and hunger. You moaned into it, your hands tangling in his hair as you rocked against him, the friction driving him wild.

“Fuck,” he growled, his voice rough with desire as he pulled back just enough to look at you. 

“You’re dangerous.”

You smirked, your fingers trailing down his chest. “And you like it.”

He did. God, he did. His hands slid up your thighs, the fabric of your dress soft against his palms as he pushed it higher, his breath hitching when he found nothing underneath. “No underwear?” he asked, his voice thick with lust.

“I didn’t think I’d need it,” you whispered, your lips brushing his as you ground against him, the heat of you driving him to the edge of madness.

His fingers delved into you, finding you wet and ready, and you moaned, your head falling back as he worked you with practiced precision. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, his eyes dark with need. “I want to ruin you.”

You laughed, a breathless, broken sound that only fueled his desire. “You can try, Tony. But I think I’m the one who’s going to ruin you.”

Before he could respond, you were on your knees, your hands working his belt with practiced ease. He barely had time to process what was happening before your mouth was on him, hot and wet, and all coherent thought fled his mind. 

His hand tangled in your hair, his hips bucking as you took him deeper, your tongue swirling around him in a way that had him seeing stars.

“Jesus,” he groaned, his head falling back against the couch as you sucked him off with a skill that bordered on obscene. “You’re going to kill me.”

You pulled back, a wicked smile on your lips as you looked up at him. “Not yet, Tony. We’re just getting started.”

And then you were on your feet, pulling him up with you, your hands pushing his jacket off his shoulders before you reached for his tie.

“I’ve always wanted to see you like this,” you murmured, your fingers deftly undoing the knot. “All that power, all that control… and here you are, naked for me.”

He let you undress him, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you peeled away layer after layer until he was bare before you. Your hands roamed over his chest, your nails scraping lightly against his skin as you kissed him again, your body pressed against his, driving him to the brink of insanity.

“Tell me what you want,” you whispered, your lips brushing his as you ground against him, the heat of you driving him wild.

He groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust against you, the friction maddening. “You. I want you.”

You smiled a slow, predatory thing that sent a shiver down his spine. “Then take me, Tony. Take what you want.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. In one swift move, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the wall, pinning you there. Your eyes locked, the tension between you crackling like a live wire as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“Last chance to back out,” he muttered, his voice rough with need.

You grinned, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Make me regret it.”

He did. With a growl, he slammed into you, the sensation so intense it stole the breath from both of you. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fucked you against the wall, each thrust driving you both closer to the edge. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, all he could do was feel.

The sight of him moving in and out of you sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making the experience even more intense and euphoric.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and possessive, and you moaned, your body tightening around him as he drove you to the brink.

“Yours,” you gasped, your head falling back as the pleasure consumed you, and with one final thrust, you both came undone, the world-shattering around you.

For a short moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, your bodies still pressed together as you both came down from the high. 

Then you looked at him, your eyes dark with something he couldn’t quite place.

“What now?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

Tony Stark, the man who always had a plan, found himself at a loss for words. Because at that moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d just found

something he wanted—or something he needed. And he wasn’t sure which was more dangerous.

── .✦

Tony’s breath was still heavy as he pulled back, his eyes locked on yours. The heat between you hadn’t dissipated—if anything, it had only intensified. His mind raced, though not with the usual clarity of a man who had a plan for everything. No, this was different. This was raw.

“What now?” you repeated, your voice low, sultry, and laced with a challenge. Your fingers trailed down his chest, nails scraping lightly, sending shivers through him.

He caught your wrist, his grip firm but not harsh, and brought your hand to his lips. His kiss against your palm was slow, and deliberate, as if he was savoring the taste of your skin. “What if I told you I didn’t want this to end?” 

His voice was rough, edged with a hunger that surprised even him.

You tilted your head, a sly smile playing on your lips. “End? Honey, you’re in a strip club. Everything here is temporary.”

“Not everything,” he countered, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer, his body pressing against yours again. He could feel the heat of you, the way your breath hitched just slightly as he leaned in. “What if I made it worth your while? Morethan just a private dance. More than just tonight.”

Your eyebrow arched, your lips curving into a smirk. “Oh? And what exactly are you proposing, Mr. Stark?”

He hesitated for a moment, but only a moment. Tony Stark wasn’t a man who second-guessed his decisions—he made them. “A partnership. A… mutually beneficial arrangement. I’ll take care of you. In every way.”

Your laugh was low, almost a purr. “A sugar daddy, huh? Bold move. And what do you get out of this little arrangement?”

His hand slid up your arm, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. “You. All of you. Whenever I want.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear. “And what if I want more than just your money?”

His grip tightened slightly, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way his breathing quickened. “Then you’ll get more.”

The air between you thickened, the unspoken promise of something deeper, something more than just a transaction. But before either of you could say another word, there was a sharp knock on the door, followed by Happy’s booming voice.

“Tony! Are you alive in there, man? Come on, the party’s not over yet!”

Tony stiffened, his jaw clenching. “Give me a minute, Happy,” he called back, his voice strained.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes gleaming with mischief. “Your friend’s impatient.”

“He’s not my friend,” Tony muttered, though the annoyance in his voice was mixed with something else—something that almost sounded like possessiveness. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer again. “Forget about him. We’re not done here.”

You laughed softly, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “Oh, I think we’re very much done. For now.”

Before he could protest, you stepped out of his grasp, moving across the room with a fluid grace that left him mesmerized. You picked up your discarded heels and slipped them back on, the click of the heels against the floor echoing in the small room.

Tony watched you, his eyes dark with desire and frustration. “You’re just going to leave? After everything?”

You turned to him, your smile teasing. “Oh, don’t worry, Tony. If this arrangement of yours is as tempting as you say it is… you’ll see me again.”

The door handle jiggled, and Happy’s voice came through again louder this time. “Tony, I’m coming in!”

Your eyes met Tony’s one last time, and you winked. “Better make your move fast, sugar daddy.”

And with that, you slipped out the door, leaving Tony standing there, his mind racing and his body aching. Happy burst in a second later, his face flushed with excitement.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. What’s the holdup, man?”

Tony turned to him, his expression unreadable. “Nothing. Let’s get out of here.”

But as they left the club, Tony couldn’t stop thinking about you—the way you moved, the way you’d challenged him, the way you’d left him wanting more. He wasn’t used to being the one left hanging, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it… or if it only made him want you more.

Later that night, as he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, he pulled out his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before he typed out a message.

I meant what I said. Let’s make this official.

He hesitated for a moment, then hit send. For the first time in a long time, Tony Stark wasn’t in control. And part of him wondered if that wasn’t exactly what he needed.

The screen lit up with a response almost immediately.

We’ll see.

Tony’s lips curved into a smile. The game had just begun, and he had no intention of losing.

But just as he was about to type out another message, she sent another text.

He glanced down at the screen, a slow smile spreading across his face.

‘Meet me tomorrow, the same place so we can discuss an arrangement.’

── .✦

The neon lights of the strip club pulsed like a heartbeat as Tony stepped inside, the bass from the music reverberating through his chest. He adjusted his cufflinks, the tailored suit hugging his frame as his eyes scanned the dimly lit room. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and sweat, a heady mix that only heightened the sense of anticipation tightening in his gut. She was here. He could feel it.

Happy clapped him on the back, his booming voice cutting through the thrum of the music. "You sure about this, Tony? I mean, I’m all for living it up, but this… this feels different."

Tony smirked, his confidence masking the flicker of doubt that had been gnawing at him since her message. "When have I ever been unsure, Happy? Relax. It’s just business."

"Business, huh?" Happy raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Since when do you do business in a strip club?"

"Since it involves a woman who’s worth every penny," Tony replied, his gaze locking onto the stage as the music shifted. The spotlight illuminated her, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

She moved with a grace that was almost hypnotic, her body swaying to the rhythm like it was an extension of the music. Her skin glowed under the lights, her curves accentuated by the sheer fabric that clung to her like a second skin. Her eyes, dark and knowing, scanned the room until they landed on Tony. A slow, sultry smile played on her lips, and she tilted her head, beckoning him silently.

Tony’s breath hitched, his pulse quickening. She’s playing with fire, he thought, though he couldn’t deny the thrill it sent coursing through him.

"Go on, man," Happy said, his tone more hesitant than encouraging. "But remember what I said. Be careful."

Tony nodded, his focus already on her as he made his way to the edge of the stage. She descended gracefully, her movements deliberate as she approached him.

"Mr. Stark," she purred, her voice low and velvety, sending shivers down his spine. "I was hoping you’d come."

"The pleasure’s all mine," Tony replied, his voice steady despite the heat pooling in his abdomen. "Shall we?"

She tilted her head, her smile widening as she traced a finger along his tie. "So eager. I like that. Follow me."

She led him through a discreet door, the noise of the club fading into a muffled hum as they entered a private room. The space was lavishly decorated, with plush velvet chairs and low lighting creating an intimate atmosphere. She turned to face him, her gaze piercing as she stepped closer.

"Let’s talk business," she said, her voice a dangerous mix of sweetness and challenge.

Tony’s lips curved into a smirk. "Business, huh? I was hoping we could skip the formalities."

She laughed, a rich, melodic sound that made his chest tighten. 

"Patience, Mr. Stark. If this is going to work, we need to set some ground rules."

"Rules?" Tony arched an eyebrow, his hands sliding into his pockets. He was used to being the one in control, but with her, it felt like the power was shifting. She’s good, he thought, too good.

"Yes, rules," she said, stepping closer until they were inches apart. Her scent, a heady mix of jasmine and something distinctly her, filled his senses. "Rule number one: this isn’t just about money. If I’m going to let you take care of me, I want more than just your wallet."

Tony’s eyes narrowed, intrigued. "And what, exactly, are you looking for?"

She reached up, her fingers brushing against his jawline as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "I want someone who can keep up with me. Someone who’s not afraid to take risks. Someone who sees me as more than just a fantasy."

Her words sent a jolt of electricity through him, and he couldn’t help but pull her closer, his hands gripping her waist. "And if I’m that someone?"

She pulled back slightly, her eyes locking with his. "Then we’ll see where this goes. But remember, Mr. Stark, I’m not just some girl you can buy. If you want me, you’ll have to earn me."

Tony’s smirk widened, his confidence returning. "Challenge accepted."

Her lips curved into a smile, but before he could say another word, she stepped back, her movements fluid as she began to dance. Her hips swayed to the rhythm of the music, her hands sliding up her body as she peeled off the sheer fabric, revealing the lace beneath. Tony’s breath caught, his eyes devouring every inch of her as she moved closer, her body pressing against his.

"You’re not the only one who can be persuasive," she whispered, her lips brushing against his neck.

Tony groaned, his hands tightening on her waist as his body responded to her proximity. "You’re playing a dangerous game."

"And you’re not playing hard enough," she replied, her voice teasing as she pulled back, her eyes challenging him to take control.

Tony’s restraint snapped. He pulled her back, his lips crashing against hers in a heated kiss. She moaned into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair as their bodies pressed together. The world faded away, leaving only the two of them, consumed by the intensity of the moment.

When they finally broke apart, her lips were swollen, her breathing ragged. "Looks like you’re finally catching on," she murmured, her eyes dark with desire.

"Only because you’re impossible to resist," Tony replied, his voice rough with need.

She smiled, her hands sliding down his chest. "Good. Now, let’s see if you can keep up."

And with that, she turned, leading him further into the room, into the darkness where the line between business and pleasure blurred, leaving Tony to wonder just how far he was willing to go for her...

JUST GIVE ME ONE CHANCE TONY PLSSSSSSS!!((#(#)#)#

(Credits: str5kk on TikTok)

Let me know if you have any other requests pls ‹𝟹

[aunicorn97]

The Winter Palace

okay this is smut. I don't write smut so enter at your own risk. but for sure the first time they smashed is at the winter palace right

She leans against the balcony as Morrigan walks back inside. She’s tired, she’s anxious, she’s not nearly drunk enough to spend any more time there. Rubbing her forehead, she sighs loudly, looking out at the night sky. Someone else is behind her, she nearly deflates. His hand is on her back before she sees him, she relaxes.

“If it were anyone else but you, I think I would’ve jumped.” She says quietly, her head hanging. Solas laughs softly, rubbing her back.

“I’m not surprised to find you out here, thoughts?”

“I… I think it’s finally hitting me.” She starts, his head tilts slightly. “My role, I mean. The influence I have. It’s…” she looks off. “It’s a lot.” He’s behind her, his arms around her waist. She smells the wine on his breath as he speaks.

“It is a lot,” he nuzzles her softly. “The weight you carry is not something I can say I'm envious of.” He leans into her, “but watching you play the game like that and win was…” he kisses her neck, “intoxicating, Aurya.” He turns her to face him, holding on to her. “You are magnificent. I haven’t seen someone play like that since…” he doesn’t continue, just stares at her.

She sees the heat in his eyes, flushed cheeks. The energy radiates off him, electricity, he looks hot to the touch. He’s relaxed, as he gazes at her, more relaxed than she thinks she’s seen him yet. She’s jealous. Her hands toy with his sash, her fingers twisting and smoothing it as she thinks.

“This feels like a temporary victory.”

“There’s much, much more trouble ahead.” He smiles softly at her. “For now, focus on what’s in front of you.” He lets her go, stepping towards the doors as the world around them suddenly fades back into the forefront. The music. “Come, before the band starts playing, would you like to dance with me?” He bows slightly, his hand extended to her. She reaches out and takes it, letting him spin her. She smiles.

“How do you do that?” “Hm?”

“Just keep a level head, through everything.” She leans into him as they dance, his eyes slightly crinkled as he looks down at her.

“Years of practice,” he replies loudly over the music. “I wasn’t always like this. I was more hot blooded, more eager for action.”

“I can’t picture that.”

“I can’t either, now.” He holds tightly to her, spinning her to the music. His hands drift so slightly lower down her back, she almost doesn’t notice, until he squeezes. Her hands tighten their grip on his shoulders as she looks up at him in surprise, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t move his hands. They continue dancing.

She listens to his breathing, getting heavier as they continue to move. She looks at his eyes, his nose. His lips. Slightly parted, his tongue flicks out to wet them. She’s staring. He notices. He pulls her closer to him, not saying anything. As the music stops, they stay close, holding each other. Another song starts.

“Would you like to keep dancing?” His face is impossibly close to hers, his tone level, except for something she can’t place. She looks at his lips again, then back up to him.

“No. I don’t want to dance.” They stare at each other a moment as the music picks up. Standing still surrounded by others dancing and swaying around them.

They’re in the servants’ quarters. She can’t even remember getting there. The door closes quietly and a lock clicks. She’s wrapped around him, kissing him, pushing him against the door. She can hear him grunt softly in surprise, but composing himself quickly, hands grabbing her sides, clinging to her. Their lips movie eagerly, his tongue hot against hers as he wastes no more time. He needs to taste her. 

She removes his hat first, eagerly tossing it to the other side of the room. Her hands rest on his chest as she continues kissing him, unwilling to break away from him unless necessary. Her hands work at the belt around his waist. Step by step. The belt falls away, then the sash, then the jacket.

“Why are there so many layers,” she nearly whines. He laughs, loudly, his head leans back, his hands moving to help her as she moves to kiss his neck. Kicking her boots off, she watches him undress as she does herself. Anticipation builds in her stomach, she can’t stop looking at him.

“Patience is a virtue,” he mumbles, his gaze never leaving hers as he undresses.

She’s laying back on one of the servants’ beds as he stands over her, admiring her. She beckons for him. She takes one of his hands, pulling him onto her. Kissing him again. She’s on fire, she thinks. She’s pretty sure he’s ignited her completely. 

His fingers trace down her skin slowly, his lips moving against hers at a pace that shocks her. His tongue can’t seem to stay still as he nearly devours hers. She moans, and that sets his own fire in his stomach. He sits back and grips her thighs tightly, his eyes scanning down her body, resting at her underwear, and the small circle of dampness on them. He sighs heavily, reaching out a single finger to trace the circle.

She watches his slow movements, her impatience bubbling inside of her, she bites her lip and looks at the ceiling. She snaps back to him when she feels his fingers hook in the waistband, and slide them off her in one movement. A quiet sound comes from the back of his throat as he takes her in. 

“Aurya…” He can’t say anything else. He takes a moment. He thinks, assures himself. Once he goes down this path there’s no going back. He’s gotten too close, he’s in too deep. He looks at her, spread out before him. For him. He could still leave, he could save this. Save her from him. Him from her.

“Solas?” Her voice is hoarse, sweet, gentle, for him. She leans up to touch his cheek, bringing him back to her. “There you are.” She smiles. His resolve crumbles, disintegrates.

He moves to kiss her again, pushing her back down. His hand finds her, feeling how soft and wet she is, he groans into her mouth as his hand moves. She’s shaking, moaning happily as he finally touches her. His hand moves firmly against her as he watches her reactions to him. He dips his face down to her chest, his tongue makes small circles around her nipple. She arches, trying to press further into his mouth, into his hand. She wraps her arms around him again, the sounds coming from her making him lose his train of thought.

He moves her thighs apart and moves between them, taking her in again, trying to compose himself. His head is hazy from the sight of her, the smell of her, the wine, everything. His hand moves up her stomach slowly, his thumb rubs over the same nipple that’s slick with his spit. She whimpers, he nearly comes undone.

“You’re being so patient,” he says quietly, smiling as his thumb continues. She groans softly.

“It’s a virtue, I’ve heard.” She smirks as she looks up at him. He’s gripping her thighs, massaging her warm, soft skin. And then he’s inside her. “Oh finally” she nearly cries out, her hips moving to meet his. His grasp on her is firm as he holds her down, shaking his head, laughing. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing…” he says quietly as he thrusts into her, his hands moving up to her breasts again, squeezing and rubbing her as he moves eagerly against her. “You’re so beautiful.” His movements are gentle, meaningful as he lavishes her with his hands, kissing her neck, her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. The sounds she’s making underneath him making his ears ring, he’s dizzy, and can’t shake it. He’s keeping his pace, anything to keep those sounds coming out of her.

As he kisses her, as he’s deep inside of her, holding her to him, not close enough as he tries to get deeper, it occurs to him. He’s past the point of no return, and he’s taken her with him. He sighs and shakes his head again, trying not to think about another person he’s pulled down farther than he anticipated. Her hands are on his face, she’s bringing him back to her, she looks worried. He kisses her, his pace quickens as she throws her head back onto the pillow, crying out for more.

Watching her under him, around him, here, for him, making him feel like this, making those sounds because of him, is enough. His hands are on the back of her thighs, bringing her legs around his waist as he moves, watching her face, waiting for the moment. The moment he’s been thinking about all night. Her legs lock around him as he continues to drive into her, his breath coming out in short quick bursts. She reaches for him, he leans to meet her for a kiss, she holds him to her. Her tongue in his mouth as he swallows every moan he makes for her, and every gasp she breathes for him.

He can feel her trembling around her, he smiles against her lips, the feeling bringing him closer to his own release. His thumb is circling her slowly as he thrusts, she’s gripping the sheets on the small mattress, looking like she wants to speak but has unfortunately been rendered speechless.

His mouth is back on her nipple, licking and sucking as she whines and moans louder for him, her body moves as close as she can get it to him, his hands around her back as he holds her to him, his mouth works slowly around her breast as she writhes in his arms. Her nails are in his back as her legs tighten around him, she tightens around him as he thrusts slowly, the loud groan from her, the obscenities falling from her mouth as she grips tightly to him.

“I don’t think–” and it takes her by surprise, her whole body tightens, she buries her face in his neck as she groans for him loudly, shivering against him as she comes. He feels her breath as she pants against as he’s holding still, still comfortable inside her, feeling her come undone brings him to his own climax, much more subtle than hers. He almost doesn’t want to miss watching hers as he rides out his own.

He’s kissing her as she still trembles slightly, smiling against her gasping lips. He’s breathless, resting his forehead against her chest as he steadies himself. She pulls him back up to kiss her, she’s smiling, beaming, looking up at him. He rolls on his back, the pair looking up at the ceiling, panting.

Outside they hear the bell ringing again. The Inquisition is officially ready to leave. She sits up quickly, looking at him. She almost jumps out of the bed, throwing her clothes on, her eyes wide, anxious.

“Shit, shit.” She tosses his own clothes at him, he dresses with her, his head finally clear, the sound of the bell almost deafening to them, they know people are searching for them. She scrambles trying to retie her sash, his hands are over hers, he looks at her patiently, tying it for her slowly. She smiles up at him. “There you go again, calm and collected.” He reaches to smooth her hair for her, turning her around to place it up for her, his hands lingering, tracing down her neck slowly, he places a small kiss under her ear.

A knock at the door, they share glances as she shrugs, trying not to laugh. She opens the door to Cullen about to knock again. He looks between the two, then looks down.

“Right… well…” he rubs the back of his neck. “Right. It’s time to go.” He turns quickly, they follow. As they finally leave the palace doors and join the others, everyone’s eyes are on them. She looks down, noticing how visibly disheveled they still both look, she casts a glance to Solas, who is just smiling smugly at them.

“Oh… ew” she hears from Sera, a choked back laugh from Dorian as they walk past them. Aurya waves her hand dismissively, looking at everyone. 

“Well, let’s head out, shall we?”

[runecatwrites]

Hello! Your LU analyses are delightful to read, thanks for sharing them! I had a fun question for consideration, if that's okay! Previously, we've examined and gushed over the Links' bonds with each other and who gets along best with who. We know that each of them are brothers and would die for each other. But I was curious: What's your take on which Links get along the *least*? E.g. If you were to list out each of the nine, which Links don't tend to click as well with each, and why? (At least at this point we're at in the comics.) Love to hear your insights about that if you're up for it! :D

Oooooh! Thank you for the ask, this is a really fun thing to think about! Here are my takes…

Sky: Time

Four: Wild

Time: Legend

Legend: Sky

Hyrule: Wild

Wind: Wild

Twilight: Warriors

Warriors: Wild

Wild: Warriors

Explanations under the cut!

Disclaimer: I do not hate Wild! In fact, he’s probably my favorite Link. Wild is a compelling character and I love him very much. Read the whole post for elaboration on him.

Second disclaimer: I truly don’t think that any of the members of the chain strongly dislike any other members (even though they may have spats from time to time). Just because one person might not get along with another as well as they do with everyone else, that doesn’t mean they hate that person.

And now for the explanations!

Sky: this guy is so sweet that it’s hard to see him not getting along with someone. The obvious answer here would be Legend, but as we’ve seen, Sky doesn’t seem to mind Lege’s “bullying” at all and actually seems to think it’s kind of endearing. I bet he’s used to that kind of behavior from Groose and therefore easily looks past it. No, as weird as it may sound on the surface, I think the person Sky would have the most trouble getting along with would actually be Time. I don’t think he’d have a hard time getting along with him in a professional sense (they work and fight well together) but rather in a personal sense. Sky and Time have very different histories with the Master Sword and with the whole “call of the hero” experience. Whereas Sky has a very close and positive relationship with Fi and willingly went on his adventure to save his beloved, Time got thrown into his first adventure, yanked around, and aged up pretty much without his consent. Lacking the perspective to understand this, I think Sky might be offended by Time’s complicated feelings towards Fi.

Four: this guy holds practically everyone in the group at arm’s length, so this one’s difficult too. But based on what we’ve seen in LU, I’m going with Wild. These two have clashed several times, most notably over Wild’s supposed impulsiveness. I think the underlying cause is that their brains work so differently at a fundamental level. Wild is a black-and-white thinker, while Four has a much more colorful (heh) mindscape. He views the world around him as a complex one that should be met with open-mindedness, and strives to understand it using his critical thinking skills. Even while merged, his colors probably play into this way of thinking. Wild, on the other hand, has a very narrow worldview and becomes distressed - sometimes even angry - when something doesn’t fit into it. Four sometimes seems to get frustrated by that rigid thinking of Wild’s.

Time: now this is an interesting one. Time is the oldest of the group and regarded as one of the most if not the most mature. Legend on the other hand, while not the youngest, is still an immature kid. Now there’s some nuance there and there are a lot of factors that feed into that immaturity (like the fact that he’s dealt with a lot of trauma and hasn’t had a parental figure since he was like 10) but the point still stands. In recent updates especially, we see that Time appears to have a short temper when it comes to Legend’s behavior. Why? Well if you look past the obvious reasoning of the group being in a dangerous situation and Legend’s antics being ill-suited for that, personally I think that Legend is a lot like Time was in his younger days. You know how sometimes parents say “my kid got their attitude from me and now I’ve gotta argue with a younger version of myself every day!” That’s exactly what’s going on here. Time was an absolute menace as a kid and teenager, and now he’s being faced with the exact same energy and has a hard time dealing with it.

Legend: as explained above, Legend has a bit of a reputation for immaturity and an attitude to go with it. Sky, on the other hand, is the one of the most easygoing, self-assured, approachable people you’ll ever meet. Legend is used to eliciting strong and/or definitive reactions by his behavior. People get angry with him (Time), match his energy (Warriors), or redirect him/calm him down (Hyrule). But Sky? Sky just… doesn’t seem to have much of a reaction at all. He might respond with some light teasing or a halfhearted protest, but nothing beyond that. That confuses Legend, and that confusion leads to anger. No matter what he does, he can’t get a good read on Sky, and that’s very frustrating for Legend.

Hyrule: I think this is going to surprise a lot of people, because Hyrule and Wild are often depicted as twin chaos gremlins by the fandom. But if you actually go through the LU canon (both main story and bonus material), you’ll see that these two actually rarely interact with each other, and on one of those rare occasions, they argue to the point of blows and have to be broken up. Much later, Wild describes Hyrule as “stubborn”, albeit in a positive way. Now, this is where I think the fandom seeing these two as twin chaos gremlins does bear some merit: the two are so alike in many aspects of their personality, notably their stubbornness, that they struggle to get along. A similar situation as with Time and Legend, but in this situation, they’re about the same age and with the same level of maturity. Hyrule and Wild even think the same way, too. During the battle with the Iron Knuckle, Hyrule wanted to rush right in and attack the big guy head on too, but was held back by Legend. Among his companions, though, Hyrule is reputably non-confrontational, which makes the fact that he got in a fight with Wild surprising. Wild is more used to getting into disagreements, so I think that fight would have affected Hyrule emotionally a lot more than Wild.

Wind: I had the hardest time with this little guy. Despite being the youngest, he’s surprisingly emotionally stable and mature, and he gets along with everyone! Literally the only reason I chose Wild is because Wind has snapped at him a few times, examples being for treating him like a kid and for not following his advice for how to take on the Iron Knuckle. That’s literally it. Wind is a perfect ray of sunshine.

Twilight: our rancher is gregarious and gets along with everyone pretty well, but he’s not shy about calling out things that tick him off about others. He rebukes Legend for his immaturity, challenges Time on his overbearing nature, and tries his darnedest to instill some self-restraint in Wild. He’s also very protective, though, especially of Wild. He’s well aware that Wild often has difficulties getting along with others (more on that later), but since he knows Wild better than all the others, he understands why Wild has those difficulties. And right now especially, he very obviously thinks that Warriors is being way too hard on Wild. This is a tricky situation. These Links are all notoriously bad at communication, and with extremely different backgrounds, Twilight and Warriors have even more of a disadvantage. Twilight doesn’t understand Wars’ motives in this situation and thinks he’s being unfair, when in reality Wars is just trying really hard to understand Wild better (explained in my analyses). Despite that, Twi and Wars are still good friends; they were just rubbing shoulders and bantering at each other a few parts ago after all. Twilight just isn’t afraid to openly disagree with one of his friends.

Warriors: yeah, if you’re familiar with my analyses (here and here) you know it’s Wild! I won’t rehash it in this post since I’ve pretty much said everything I can think of on Wars’ point of view in the situation lol

Wild: and conversely, Wild is having a really hard time with Wars specifically right now. That situation is outlined in my previous analyses too. But for this post, I wanted to elaborate more on Wild. Although all of his fellow Links obviously love and accept him, the poor guy has drawn the ire of practically every member of the chain at some point in time. In fact, personally I think that if not for his close bond with Twilight, Wild would have an extremely hard time getting along with the group as a whole. That doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. No, he’s a character with a very unique and compelling past, and that past makes it very difficult for him to successfully engage in teamwork. He’s also dealing with amnesia, imposter syndrome, and an inferiority complex, all of which take a huge toll on his mental health. When your mental health isn’t so great, you often have a short fuse and it can also be hard to maintain healthy relationships. Trust me, I know - I’ve been on medication for depression for 15 years. It’s a real struggle. In spite of this, we have seen significant character growth from Wild recently. He’s begun acknowledging his difficulties and owning up to his transgressions, which shows that he really does want to make things work with everyone. He feels bad for clashing with people and wants to do better, but unfortunately he appears to have very low confidence in himself. His current mindset seems to be “I’m trying really hard not to mess things up, but I’m probably just going to mess it all up anyway.” The thing that matters, though, is that he is trying. Ah, I love Wild so much. My precious blorbo. If he can rid himself of that crippling self-doubt, he can make even bigger strides in improving his relationship with everyone!

[dewdwrite]

A perfectly normal Dungeon Meshi fiction

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63104998

It seemed like every day they traveled in the dungeon it got more precarious. Traps were frequent and they ran into monsters nearly every other day. Laios was over the moon getting to fight and then babble on about the monsters they found for hours after the encounter. Senshi didn’t care as long as they could eat it. Marcille and Chilchuck on the other hand were less than excited at the thought of fighting monsters as well as eating them. If it wasn’t for bonds they forged together this party would have split long ago.

They had spent hours in a labyrinth that Chillchuck insisted needed to be searched for traps at every step. Progress was incredibly slow much to the satisfaction of his nerves and the disappointment of everyone else. It had been over a day since the last meal they shared and it was making them restless. Marcille was having a particularly hard time. After hours of tip toeing where the halfoot told her to, her knees were shaking and she was leaning heavily on her staff. She didn’t always eat her fill every night, despite how much energy she needed for traveling and spell casting. Her taste buds were fickle and if she couldn't get past the taste of something she couldn’t force herself to eat it. Combine her picky eating habits with Laios and Senshi’s nature to cook everything in sight and you got an underfed elf.

Marcille had been hungry for hours, since she woke up in fact. She only managed a few bites of last night's dinner, a questionable curry that had god’s know what in it. “Right here next, once I open this gate we should be in the clear.” Chillchucks voice brought Marcille back to reality. She looked where he was pointing and stepped carefully. Laios and Senshi followed one step behind mirroring the path. Chilchuck was preoccupied with a lock, the only sounds in the room were the clicks and clacks of his thieves' tools fiddling with the tumblers.

Another sound filled the halls of the labyrinth. A low droning growl that echoed off the floor and halls. Its point of origin was the stomach of a very exhausted Elf. This wasn’t the first time the entire party had heard Marcilles obnoxious digestive system, In fact it was a sound that they were so accustomed to they instantly recognised.

“Sounds like it's time to make camp Senshi.” Chillchuck said as he got the lock off and pushed the gate open. Marcille clutched a hand over her stomach as she followed behind the half foot with Laios and Senshi following close behind.

Marcile felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger. She felt like she was always the reason they were stopping just because her stomach was the loudest. She took a moment to tighten the thin belt on her robe and compress her hollow stomach. “But we’ve hardly made any progress. We’re never going to find Falin if we keep traveling like this!” She said dramatically.

“Marcille, I want to find my sister just as bad as you do. Part of doing that is staying safe and well fed.” Liaos said

“We’re never going to find her if all we ever do is make camp and cook!” She replied, continuing to whine. Tears were starting to form in her eyes. “All we ever eat is gross food anyway.” she said, starting to sniffle.

Laios was a bit taken aback at her reaction, luckily Senshi stepped in before he could put his food in his mouth.

“Marcille, you didn’t seem to enjoy our meal much last night. Is there anything I could do to make this one more palatable for you? If you don’t eat you're going to get weak and that's bad for all of us.” Senshi said as he dug through his pack checking his ingredients.

Marcille sighed. Senshi was observant and blunt, but he was right. That curry was thick. All the odd ingredients were cut too small and the texture ended up like a spicy porridge. “I'd really like some soup.” She said, clutching a hand over her stomach. Another wave of hunger pangs gnawed at her insides as she thought about what she'd like to eat. “Not a stew. Something with a thin flavorful broth with lots of herbs and vegetables.” She was practically drooling as she spoke and she felt her insides undulating excitedly at her description.

Chillchuck groaned as she spoke. Marcille was the pickiest one out of the group and this wasn't the first time she described her ideal meal. She reminded him more of one of his daughters than a full fledged mage.“Will be able to make a safe camp in one of these passages. There should be enough space for us to fit and enough ventilation for a fire.” He said still focused on finding a place to actually make camp. The group, only partially distracted, managed to follow the halfoot and soon enough find an acceptable place to settle down.

Senshi was deep in thought as the others made camp. He spent the entire time muttering to himself and taking things out of his pack and pouches. “I think I can make you what you’re craving, Marcille.” She turned to him looking up from her spell book she was struggling to study. “Really Senshi?” she asked nearly in disbelief.

“Mhmm.” He nodded and set out a pot over the fire. “I've still got some of that meat from the Basilisk and the bones. I could make soup in just a few hours.

Marcilles eyes lit up at that promise and her stomach clenched with aching hunger. “You can?”

Senshi nodded and got to work.

First take the leftover Basilisk bones and put them in a pot to boil with all your spices. Chop your vegetables, leaving them in large pieces so they'll still have some crunch. Take the Basilisk breast and fry it in a pan with a little oil on both sides. Take it out early so it can finish cooking in the broth later. Strain the bones from the broth and toss them into the fire for good luck. Deglaze the pan with a bit of that bone broth. Stir it to get all the fond off the pan, then add your vegetables.Toss them in some more herbs and spices then add them to the pot with the meat. Let it simmer for a few hours and….it's done.

Marcille took a deep inhale of the steam coming from her bowl. It smelled exactly like chicken soup. Heavy on veggies, herbs and spices. Her stomach growled from the mouthwatering aroma and she brought a spoonful up to her lips trying the broth first. Her eyes went wide before closing in pure bliss. It was exactly like what her mother would make for her. She moved the spoon aside and took two big gulps of the rich broth. She felt it land in her empty stomach and it gurgled joyfully. “This is just what I wanted, Senshi , thank you.” She said as tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

Senshi gave an appreciative nod as he spooned out portions for the rest of the party as well as himself. “I’m not used to cooking elven style cuisine so I'm not as practiced. I’ll try to keep your palette in mind more in the future.” As he spoke Marcille could barely hear him, she was so enthralled by the act of eating a meal she actually enjoyed.

She was the first to ask for a second helping which Senshi happily obliged. The meat was soft and broke into strands and the veggies were large with just a bit of crunch, she couldn’t stop eating. It was after her third bowl that the feeling of fullness actually hit her. She could actually feel her upper stomach pressing against the inside of her robe. The thin belt that she tightened around herself hours earlier was digging into her midriff and she subtly loosened it.

After a few minutes she excused herself to her bedroll. She frequently felt self conscious being the only woman in the party. She was given space whenever she asked for it. Which she was always grateful for, especially now as her stomach groaned ominously. Her insides were churning the massive amount of food she crammed into it. It didn't quite hurt, not that she was familiar with the sensation of a stomach ache from overeating, but it felt…taxing. The suddenness of going from absolutely starving to full happened much too quickly.

Laying on her back she tried to distract herself from this foreign sensation by reading her spell book once again. Similar to last time her stomach was too vocal to be ignored, but for a much different reason. The weight of it pressing down on her thin frame was enough to force her to turn on her side. She could feel the contents of her stomach shift with her entire body and it produced another wide array of noises as she did.

Despite loosening her belt earlier her robes still felt tight and restrictive. She glanced back over at the party for a moment before starting to remove her outer layer of clothes. Her robes alone were three layers of warm cotton fabric to keep herself warm. Underneath it was another layer of fine white cotton she typically slept in, It was much looser, hanging on her body slightly. A wave of relief washed over her as her midriff had room to breath. Satisfied she carefully folded up her robes and took her spell book back out.

Her guts worked overtime to break down her meal, churning audibly. It was an odd sensation to be so focused and intune with your body. She put a hand over her mouth to suppress a hiccup, another clear sign she ate too fast. Reading was a struggle, her eyes wouldn't stay open. The exhaustion of the day caught up with her and her body was begging to do nothing but digest. Closing her spellbook she finally gave in with a sigh. She was already fading in and out of consciousness sitting up. After laying down she was out in minutes snoring softly.

As she slept her soft snoring was overshadowed by her tumultuous insides. The soup was being boiled all over again making her body warm content. The sounds were audible all through the camp but it was preferable to the usual discontent growling of her stomach going underfed. If anything these sounds were a soothing white noise that lulled the entire party into a proper slumber.

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 13

Harlow

I’M SHAKING when I sprint into my residence hall and up the staircase. I can't get away from Noah fast enough. My heart is still pounding as I make my way up the stairs. This shit with him is too much. I just want to be left alone and fade into the wallpaper, but he’s making that impossible.

And then there’s this shit with Talia . She seemed a bit down this morning when I saw her, and it occurs to me she might have intentionally fallen off the map for a while. She’s done this before. Once, when we were sixteen, and she’d just broken up with her boyfriend, she ran off for two days. Turns out, she was crashing in her cousin’s basement and had sworn that cousin to secrecy. And she did go back home eventually.

But what could have happened in the last day or two to make her want to go off-grid? It’s possible, I guess, but still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

Before going to my room, I head to Talia ’s room and knock on her door. It’s late, and I feel bad for disturbing Talia 's roommate, but I have to see if she popped up at some point.

I hear rustling on the other side of the door a few seconds before it’s pulled open. My heart leaps into my throat, and I pray it’s Talia on the other side, in her pajamas, looking annoyed.

It isn’t.

“What’s up?” Talia 's roommate asks, bleary-eyed like I just woke her up from a dead sleep.

I try to peer over her shoulder at Talia 's bed, but it’s pitch black inside the room. “Hey, sorry to wake you. I know it’s late. Did Talia make it home?”

She glances at the bed behind her and shakes her head. “Doesn’t look like it.”

My heart sinks. “Did she mention where she was going, or if she was planning on staying somewhere else tonight?”

She blinks at me like she’s trying to clear the sleep fog from her brain. “Shouldn’t you know? Aren’t you her best friend?” She doesn’t sound accusatory, just genuinely bewildered by my question.

I push out a breath. “If you see her, tell her to come see me. Doesn’t matter what time it is.” I pull her phone out of my pocket and hold it up. “And tell her I have her phone.”

The roommate holds her hand out. “You want me to give it to her?” “No, thanks. I’ll give it to her when I see her.”

If Talia is deliberately avoiding me, then I want a reason for her to come see me. And I know she can’t live without her phone. She’ll come looking for it sooner or later.

The roommate's hand falls to her side, and she’s already shutting the door. “Okay, cool. I’ll tell her you came by. ”

“Thanks,” I say just as the door clicks shut.

As I walk to my room, my stomach tightens, and I start to feel sick. If I don’t see the whites of Talia 's eyes by tomorrow, I’m going to the police. Period. I can’t do this on my own, and I now I know I can’t count on Noah’s help–he’s so damn unpredictable, I don’t know from one minute to the next what mood he’ll be in. Besides, his help comes with strings–strings that look a lot like chains.

I unlock and open my door quietly, so I don’t wake up Emily, but she’s not here. She must still be at the sorority party. I strip my clothes off and find my sweatpants. I don’t even bother brushing my teeth or washing my

face. I just crawl under my covers, and lie there, staring up into the darkness.

My mind immediately wanders to Talia —wondering if she’s safe, wondering if she’s okay—but I push those thoughts aside. Worrying going to help anything, and honestly, it’s just as likely she’s sleeping off a bender on someone’s couch. I mean, that’s what college is about, right? Making questionable decisions.

My thoughts shift to Noah. He’s such a mystery—and despite the serious ick his personality is giving me, I can’t help but be curious about him. He’s like a puzzle I’m itching to piece together.

I’d be better off not knowing what makes him tick, and just walking away—which, to be fair, is what I’ve been trying to do since the second I met him. Maybe I just need to try harder and be more forceful.

The guy is determined, though, and maybe that’s part of the appeal for me. His relentless pursuit. God knows I have a weakness for that quality in a guy. And look where that got me. Some serious emotional trauma, and hundreds of hours of therapy. Not to mention a seriously fucked up view of Noahtic relationships.

I manage to get a few hours of sleep, somehow, and when I wake up, my roommate is already gone, her bed made. Damn, I must have been dead to the world when she came back last night. And I know she came back because her computer and backpack are gone.

Sitting up, I rub the sleep from my eyes. My head hurts, like I’m hungover. I didn’t drink nearly enough to be truly hung over, so it must be from all the stress about Talia , and Noah, and just…everything.

I fish my phone out from under my covers and unlock it. No text from Talia . Though I don’t know how she’s supposed to text me without her phone—I don’t even know if she knows my phone number by heart.

I stick my phone on the charger while I hurriedly get ready, going down the hall to brush my teeth and take care of all my bathroom stuff in record time. Back in my room, I throw on some jeans and a T-shirt and put on some deodorant.

I grab my phone, Talia 's phone, and my backpack, then fly out the door. But I don’t go to my first class. Instead, I head straight to Talia ’s room. No answer. My next stop is the student services building. Inside the registrar’s office, a middle-aged woman is sitting at a desk, and I walk straight up to her.

“Hi, excuse me.” She looks up from her computer with a smile, and I continue, “I’m looking for my friend, but I don’t have her schedule. Can you tell me which classes she has today?”

I obviously know her major, but we hadn’t yet shared our schedules with each other. I could call her mom and ask if she knows, but I don’t want to worry her parents. It’s better if I just handle this myself, for now.

The woman’s smile falls. “I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to share another student’s schedule. Is everything okay?”

“It’s just….she didn’t come back to her dorm room last night,” I say. “And I was hoping to find her in one of her classes.”

The woman shakes her head. “Sorry, I can’t help you. Is she an undergrad?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you talked to the Undergraduate Dean?”

I shake my head. “No, not yet. This was my first stop.”

“Okay, well, try that route first. If she needs access to your friend’s schedule, then we can pull it up at that point.”

I flash her a tight smile. “Okay, thanks.”

But as I’m walking out of the registrar’s office, I wonder if Noah could have gotten her to bend the rules and give him that schedule. Maybe I should have name-dropped him? He has an unbelievable amount of influence and power over the student body, but does it extend to the staff, too?

Outside the student services building, I pull my phone out of my pocket and stare down at it. I have Noah’s number. Shit ended badly between us last night, but he might still help me.

I suck in a breath and mentally shake myself. No. I’ll handle this through the proper channels. I’ll go to the Undergraduate Dean, or campus security, and see if they can help me.

My phone pings and I glance down at the screen. It’s Noah. Of course, it is .

Campus coffee shop. Five minutes.

It’s not even a question or a request. It’s a demand. Fucking asshole. I shove my phone into my back pocket without responding. Noah can go fuck

himself.

I head over to the Undergraduate Dean’s office to talk to her about Talia

, but she’s not in her office, so I end up having to leave a message with her assistant. I try to convey the urgency of the situation, but the assistant doesn’t look overly concerned. Still, she assures me Ms. Ramirez will get back to me as soon as she’s back in the office. I have my doubts, but I thank the assistant anyway.

My next stop is the campus security office. Again, I explain everything

—Talia acting weird, not texting me back, her phone found in the sand, and the security guy writes it all down, then adds the paper to a pile on the corner of his desk.

I blink at him. “So what happens now? Are you guys going to look for her? Ask around?”

He folds his hands in front of him. “Listen, students go missing all the time—they get stressed, and disappear for a couple of days. I’m sure she’ll be back. But in the meantime, I’ll get your note over to the head of security, and he’ll be in touch.”

That’s it. No sense of concern. No urgency. Just…we’ll be in touch. Wow.

Feeling defeated, I don’t know what else to do but head to my next class, and just pray someone calls me back. I’m five minutes early and find a seat near the door. As I’m pulling my laptop out of my backpack, someone slips into the empty chair next to me. I recognize the scent instantly. That fresh, masculine smell that can only be Noah Sabastian .

When I look up, he’s staring down at me, an amused smile stretched across his beautiful face. “Ignoring me, Little Rabbit?”

Fuckity-fuck-fuck. I should have known he would show up here, to my class. Following me around is his thing, apparently.

I put my laptop on the cracker-sized table in front of me, and push out a frustrated breath. “I thought I was clear last night. Stay. Away. From. Me.”

He ignores my statement, as usual. “I heard you were over at the student services building.”

For fuck’s sake.

I roll my eyes. “Let me guess, you have spies everywhere.” His smile broadens. “How’d you guess?”

I shrug one shoulder and open my laptop. “Having me followed is peak villain energy.”

“I don’t need to have you followed–I have people crawling over this campus.”

“Great,” I say with a frustrated breath. There’s no sense getting into all of this with him. “Why don’t you just tell me what the hell you want so you can leave?”

He leans across his micro-desk, and I swear to God, my heart actually skips a beat…or three. His intoxicating scent wraps around me, and I can’t help it, I suck in a deep breath. “Oh, baby,” he whispers with that devilish smile. “I love it when you play hard to get.”

This guy takes every ounce of patience I have.

“I literally hate you,” I say flatly, logging into my laptop, trying my best not to look at him. “Leave now, or I swear to God…”

From my periphery, I see him hold up a folded piece of paper. “You want me to leave? Really? Because…I have something you want.”

If he mentions his dick, I swear I’m going to punch him right in that perfectly sculpted jaw and take whatever consequences come. I’m so over this hyper-masculine show he puts on for everyone. It’s gotten really old, really fast.

I turn my head toward him slowly. “I highly doubt that.”

“Oh.” He pulls back, that cocky smile still on his face. “Okay, so you don’t want this class schedule for…” He unfolds the paper and glances down at it, reading. “...Miss Breanna Langley.”

The fuck?

I try to take it out of his hand, but he’s quick, and snatches it away, holding it just out of my reach. “Ah, ah. You want this, you come with me.”

I swallow and glance up at the front of the class, where the professor is unpacking his laptop. He has his back turned away from us.

“I can’t, I have class,” I say, hoping he’ll take pity on me, and just give me the schedule.

Noah turns his attention to the professor. “Yo, Prof.” To my amazement, the professor straightens and turns around to face us. “I need to borrow Harlow . Email her the class notes for today, yeah?”

The professor doesn’t even look bothered. “Sure thing, Noah. Say hi to your dad for me.”

“Cool.” Noah turns back to me with a self-satisfied smile. “Fixed.

Let’s go.”

The entire class is watching us at this point, including the professor, so I shove my laptop back into my backpack and stand up, sheepishly squeezing past a couple of people to get to the door with Noah right behind me.

Once we’re out in the hallway, and out of earshot of the class, I whirl on Noah. “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have everyone in your fucking pocket?

He shrugs one shoulder. “My dad pays Professor Birk’s salary.” I blink. “What?”

“Well, I mean, not directly. My dad funds the grant that pays his salary.

Same difference.”

“Good God,” I breathe, exasperated. “Is nowhere safe around here?”

He leans against the wall, all casual strength. “I told you I own this university. I wasn’t exaggerating.”

I lift my arms, then let them fall in defeat. “Okay, here I am. You have me. Can I have the schedule now?”

“Coffee,” he says. “Everyone needs to see us.”

Welp, now I have nothing else to do. I might as well let him buy me a coffee. “Fine. This doesn’t mean you’ve won, though. I just like coffee.”

“Sure,” he laughs, and that laugh makes me want to punch him in that beautiful face. “Whatever you say.”

When we get to the campus coffee shop, it’s crowded, but our table is vacant, and already laden with pastries. It’s a little over the top, honestly, but I didn’t eat breakfast, so I’m not complaining. I grab a croissant and sit down.

Not three seconds later, someone brings lattes in mugs to our table. “I hadn’t even ordered yet,” I say between bites.

Noah just shrugs and watches as I finish off my croissant in two bites, then immediately tuck into a cheese Danish. He looks amused by my gluttony.

“I’ve informed food services that all your meals are to be charged to my account.” He pauses like I’m supposed to thank him or something, but I just blink at him instead.

“So, what, is this the treatment you give all your girls? Free meals and an excuse to ditch class?”

He’s watching me closely, and it makes me twitch a little. “Among other things.”

I hold out my Danish-free hand. “Well, I’m here, having coffee with you

—against my will, I might add. Hand over the schedule.”

He hands it over without an argument, thankfully. At least, he keeps his word. One very small point in his favor. I open the schedule and make note of her next class. “Three o’clock,” I say. “That’s her next class. Edmund West building.”

“Great,” Noah says dismissively like he doesn’t give a damn. And I guess he wouldn’t. Talia isn’t his friend, so why would he care? Whatever. I’m just glad I got Talia 's schedule.

What this does prove, though, is that finding Talia will be a whole harder without Noah’s help. So, fuck, I guess I need to play along with this consort shit for a while.

Still, it doesn’t mean I need to hang out with him for any longer than is necessary, so I suck my coffee down as quickly as possible .

Noah is leaning back casually, his arm slung over the chair next to him, watching me intently. And if I didn’t know better, I’d think he hated me. The look on his face is pure contempt, the edges of his lips curled up, his brows pinched. But a second later, it’s gone, replaced by that cold indifference I’ve come to know so well.

“There’s a get-together tonight. I want you there,” he says evenly. He hasn’t touched his coffee or the pastries, and I wonder why. Maybe he already ate? But then why invite me to what amounts to an entire continental breakfast buffet? I mean, damn, everything on this small table could feed at least fifteen people.

I take another sip of my coffee. “I’ll have to check my schedule,” I say evasively. I have to play nice with this guy, for now, but that doesn’t mean I have to be his puppet.

Besides, shit might be going on with Talia that I need to be available for. I mean, hopefully, she’s fine and just hungover somewhere, but…I have no real idea, so I don’t want to make any promises.

“I want you there,” he says flatly, another command.

Everything in me wants to get up from the table and tell him to fuck off, but he was able to get his hands on Talia 's schedule when I was told that it was impossible just minutes before. He has the connections I need.

I smile tightly. “Where?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’ll pick you up.”

I push out a breath–and search my brain for any possible excuse I can throw out there that he would accept. But, I’ve got nothing. “What time?”

“Eight.” He pushes back from the table and stands. “In the meantime, don’t go to the police about your friend. That would be a bad idea.”

I don’t even have a chance to ask him why, because he’s already out the door. He just left me here alone at the table, so I do what any starving

student would do, I flag down a barista and ask for baggies to go—then I pack all that shit up and head back to my dorm room.

But the whole time I’m walking, one question keeps circling in my mind like a record on a turntable—why shouldn’t I go to the police about Talia ? What does Noah know that he’s not telling me?

[kathlare]

opposite

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Feeling hurt and betrayed, Amelie struggles with the emotions that resurface, realizing how much their past still affects her. In a moment of impulse, she decides to block Lando on social media, attempting to sever the last ties to their complicated history.

Wordcount: 1.4 k

Warnings: none

January 4th, 2022 - Riviera Maya, Mexico

liked by luisinhaoliveira99, carlossainz55, and others

landonorris: My sunshine 🌞

View all 5,423 comments

carlossainz55: Ah, young love. So cute. 🤠 → landonorris: @carlossainz55 gracias, viejo. 😂

maxfewtrell: oh we’re HARD hard launching huh 👀 → landonorris: @maxfewtrell go big or go home, mate 🤷‍♂️

mclarenfan99: Hard launching like you weren’t just “keeping things private” a month ago?? 😂 → f1tea: @mclarenfan99 Lando moves faster than Red Bull’s pit stops. 💀

landomegafan: I fear this won’t age well. 😬

chilisgirl55: MY MAN IS GONE. THE GRIEF IS REAL. 😭 → fastlanefan: @chilisgirl55 We lost him, ladies. It’s over. 💔

landoobsessed: I mean… happy for you or whatever. 🙂

danielricciardo: Can I still call you sunshine or is that off-limits now? 🤔 → landonorris: @danielricciardo you’ll always be my sunshine, Danny. 🌞🥹

f1tea: i just know somewhere out there, an Amelie fan just threw their phone across the room 💀 → f1gossip: @f1tea multiple phones have been sacrificed today

mclarenfan99: "My sunshine" oh he’s in deep

papayafan4: i mean... happy for him but lowkey feels weird idk 😬 → fastlanefan: @papayafan4 nah fr it’s like we time-traveled to an alternate reality 😭

f1_memes: wonder who’s NOT double-tapping this one 😬 → hotlapqueen: @f1_memes WHOEVER COULD IT BE?? 🤔💀

charles_leclerc: cute. 😊 → landonorris: @charles_leclerc thanks, mate 😁

notoverit: idc what anyone says, he will never have chemistry like he had with Amelie again → girlmath: @notoverit the way they’re not friends anymore makes this hurt more 😭

-------------

Amelie lay sprawled out on one of the luxurious lounge chairs by the pool, basking in the midday sun. The warmth of the Mexican coast was a welcome change from the gray skies of London, where she had spent months rehearsing Wicked before taking a break to come home for the holidays.

—Why can't we just be on a permanent vacation?— she muttered under her breath, closing her eyes and letting the moment wash over her.

But soon, her phone buzzed on the table next to her. Not once, but twice. Three times. She squinted, peeking through the sunglasses resting on her nose, and saw that she was being tagged repeatedly.

Rolling her eyes, Amelie picked up the phone, fully expecting one of her friends to have posted something ridiculous on Instagram or for it to be one of her brothers sending memes. But as she swiped through her notifications, her heart dropped into her stomach.

Lando Norris.

She didn’t even have to open the post fully to know what was happening. Her finger hovered over the notification for a moment, and then she clicked it.

Lando.

The photo that appeared was one that made her chest tighten in an instant: it was a picture of Lando and his new girlfriend—none other than Luisinha Oliveira—standing together in what could only be described as a "hard launch" to their relationship. It was a clean, crisp shot that screamed intimacy—Lando’s arm around her, their faces close, an undeniable chemistry that Amelie recognized all too well.

It was exactly what she had feared. They had gone public.

A harsh laugh escaped her lips as she stared at the photo. She felt something sickly churning in her stomach, like she’d swallowed a rock. She hadn’t heard from Lando in over seven months, hadn’t seen him since their last bitter interaction. And now here he was, moving on, with someone else.

Amelie’s fingers trembled as she scrolled down through the comments, each one filled with praise, support, and excitement from his fans, who had clearly been waiting for this moment. "Finally! They're official!" one comment read. "Lando and Luisinha are goals!" another added. It felt like the whole world was cheering for them.

But Amelie wasn’t part of that world anymore. Not after everything that had happened.

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort to calm herself. Her thoughts spun in all directions, and her emotions ran wild. Anger, sadness, disbelief. She tried to remember the last time she had seen him, the sting of their last words still fresh in her mind, the silence that followed when he had started talking to someone else. She had been so focused on her own career, her own healing—but seeing this, seeing him so happily posted with her, made the distance between them feel painfully real. The gap between who they were, and who they’d become.

Amelie stared at the picture for a few seconds longer, her finger hovering over the screen, unsure if she wanted to keep looking or throw her phone into the pool.

Why does it hurt so much? she wondered. She hadn’t even considered what would happen if Lando ever moved on, and now it was right there in front of her. The fact that he had done it so easily, so publicly, it was a slap in the face. It felt like she wasn’t even a part of his world anymore—like their shared past meant nothing.

She forced herself to look away from the screen, swallowing the tightness in her throat. This is stupid. You’re stupid. The words came like a rush of bitter thoughts—her own inner voice mocking her. She thought she had been over it. Thought she had come to terms with their fallout. But there it was. His smile. His arm around her. Her, not her.

Amelie sat up, her eyes glued to the photo once again. The comment section filled up with the same messages. “I knew they were meant to be!” “Lando found someone who truly gets him!” It was all so perfect.

Perfect for him, not me. She scoffed, letting out a dry laugh that didn’t feel like her own. The envy burned. And it wasn’t just because he was in a relationship—it was because he was happy with someone else. And that someone else wasn’t her.

Amelie took a long, shaky breath and felt the sting of rejection all over again. It was like she was back in that moment when Lando had started pulling away, when she was too busy, when he decided to talk to Luisinha instead. She hated herself for not noticing the signs sooner. Hated herself for thinking that it would work out, that they could pick up where they left off, even when it had been so messy.

But now, seeing him here, so openly with someone else, it made her realize that he had been waiting for this. He’d been waiting to find someone who fit his image of happiness, who could be the opposite of whatever they had. He was holding out for someone who didn’t feel like home, like she had.

You knew I would see that. You knew I would notice.

He wanted someone who was nothing like her, someone who wouldn’t remind him of the complications. Someone who wasn’t Amelie.

Amelie dropped her phone onto the lounger beside her, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel the heat of the sun on her skin, but it felt distant, almost suffocating now. A wave of nausea hit her, as if the air itself was suddenly too thick to breathe. Her mind raced with a hundred conflicting thoughts, but one thing was crystal clear: she couldn’t just let this slide. Not this time. Not after everything.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. Another notification. Another mention. Another reminder that the world was watching him and not her.

She wasn’t sure what triggered it—whether it was the way his arm was so possessively wrapped around Luisinha, the gleam in his eyes as they stared at each other, or the overwhelming flood of emotions that came with it. All of it felt like a slap, a reminder of their messy history, the broken pieces of what they used to be.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t expected it. She had prepared herself, sort of. After all, Lando had moved on from their casual situationship months ago, found someone else, and she had gone on with her life. She had dated other people, had buried herself in her career, and for the most part, it had worked.

But this? Seeing it like this, so out in the open, so clean and neat, hurt more than she cared to admit.

—Fuck this.—

She reached for her phone again, her fingers suddenly steady as she unlocked it. She didn’t even think twice. She tapped into his Instagram. The account was full of posts from his racing life, photos of the McLaren garage, his fans, his travels. Everything about it screamed success.

But today, there was a new post. A post that was now all over her feed.

She stared at the photo once again, the face of the girl who was now his. His.

Her stomach churned, and without any hesitation, Amelie hit the three dots in the top right corner of the post, then scrolled to "Block." A rush of anger surged through her, and her thumb pressed down firmly on the option. It wasn’t a calculated decision—it was impulsive. A reflex. She didn’t want to be reminded of this. Of them. Of what they had been.

She blocked him from her main account. Blocked him from his photography account too. That account had been a quiet thing for them, something they had joked about, something personal—before all of this.

As the confirmation appeared on her screen, Amelie felt her chest tighten. It felt like an odd mixture of relief and guilt, as if the decision was both a form of self-preservation and a declaration of something darker. The past was gone. She was cutting it off completely. She didn’t want to look back anymore. Not at him. Not at them.

A few minutes passed in silence, and she simply stared at her phone, feeling the weight of the action settle in. But the hurt was still there. A lingering ache that wouldn’t go away just because she blocked him from her Instagram.

Amelie stood up and walked over to the edge of the pool, staring down at the deep blue water. It looked peaceful, undisturbed, just like how she wished she could feel.

But no amount of blocking, no distance, could block out the memories of what they had shared. What they used to be.

—You’re doing the right thing.— Her inner voice tried to reassure her. But it felt hollow. Because in the end, it wasn’t about being right. It was about feeling something, anything, that could break the grip the past had on her.

Behind her, she heard someone calling her name. Her mom. Victoria, always so serene, always so poised, calling her to come inside.

—Amelie, dinner’s ready, cariño. Come on, don’t sit there alone.—

Amelie took a deep breath. She wasn’t alone. She had her family. They had always been her anchor, and right now, it was all she had.

With one last glance at the pool, she turned and walked toward the villa. The weight of the decision still clung to her, but for the first time in what felt like a long time, she was doing what she needed to do. She was moving on. She was choosing herself. And maybe that’s what it took to finally start letting go.

Lando had his life. He had found his happiness, his new world.

And Amelie? She was figuring out how to rebuild hers. Without him.

For the first time in a long time, Amelie felt something shift. Not a big change, not a life-altering decision—but something small, something real.

[weaselmcdiesel]

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