#but anyway i had never thought of receiving a letter as being something that could provide safety!

[caxde]

drunken confession | steve harrington x reader

summary you're Dustin's older sister, a night out with you're friends makes you see that here might be more between you and Steve (7.5k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff (a lot), mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn friends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, mentions of alcohol use, tabacco and anxiety (briefly). and eventual smut (p in v, hj unproteccted) english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 

“So, are you going out tonight?” Dustin asked once again, making you center your attention on him, you stop daydreaming. 

“Um, I dunno. We’ll get some drinks, better if you don't wait up I think.” You answered, looking at him. Your brother always seemed like he had more to say, like there was always a puzzle, or an equation that he had to solve in the back of his mind. 

“You’re gonna have to talk to mom.” He scuffed, almost like a laugh. 

“What? Why?” Your eyebrows scratched as you asked, your shoulders got high, and so did your voice. 

“She’s not letting you the car again if you’re out drinking.” 

“Well, I’m not driving so…” You finished, letting the fork in your plate, the clinking of it ending the conversation briefly. 

It seemed like it was going to be a quiet night anyway. Just you, and your friends, nothing unusual. Though you still didn’t know if you’d be drinking in someone’s house or out out. 

Because those are two very different things. 

If you were in someone’s house, you’d be calm, the lights won’t annoy you, the music won’t be too loud, and there won’t be too many people. 

And you’d promised yourself that even if that happened, you weren’t going to overreact, because these things are normal, and it is okay. You're safe, in someone's house, and out in a club or bar. 

- 

Thankfully the bar was still empty when you arrived. 

And the first round of beers went down pretty quickly. 

So did the second one. 

Nancy was excited. You could tell she was really happy, finally having received her acceptance letter to the college of her dreams. She couldn’t stop blushing every time somebody new walked into the bar and said congratulations. 

Robin was as chatty as ever, as she normally was to be honest. You’d found out that Robin gets excited over other peoples’ excitement, and you often thought to yourself what a good cheerleader she would make if she wasn’t as clumsy as she is. 

Eddie was quiet. It wasn’t unusual, not this early in the evening. He always gets more comfortable once he gets used to the people that are wherever you guys end up, and once he realises that nobody looks at him like he’s a freak anymore, in fact, since Corroded Coffin was gaining a bit of a reputation people tried to get close to him, talk to him. He’d never say it, but he loved it. 

And, Steve. 

Well, he was just electric. Something happened whenever you two were in the same place. He’ll participate in whatever conversation is going on at the table, but for a moment, however brief, he’d look at you, and you swear time would stop. 

You didn’t know why that happened, you just enjoyed it. 

And it was happening right now, as you were finishing your second beer, and he was already asking for the third round, his hand up with the empty bottle, once the barman saw Steve, he putted five fingers up, Steve nodded. 

And as it always happened after two beers, you needed to go out, get some air and smoke. And as always, Eddie walked out with you. 

“You doing okay Henderson?” Eddie muttered as he offered you his lighter, smoke already escaping his lips as he talked. 

“Yeah, just thinking.” You answered quickly, just before lighting the camel you had in your pocket. 

“You need to stop doing all that thinking.” He laughed, trying -with no success- to make you at least chuckle. “You wanna talk about it?” 

“I think you already know if I’m being honest.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, pleading that he won’t make you actually say it. 

“For what it’s worth, I think he’s just as much in his head as you are.” He admitted, as he took one long drag of his cigarette, almost gone now. 

“You’re only saying that because you’re my friend.” You brush it off, not really ready to believe that he might be right, not wanting to believe him, in case he was actually right. 

“And I’m also his friend.” He added, looking into your eyes, a soft smile in his face, and something else that you can’t recognise now. “And honestly, you two… something’s going on, it’s not hard to see it.” 

“Nothing has happened. Nothing can anyway.” You add, as you throw your cigarette to the floor, stomping on it so it’s definitely put out. 

“Why would you say that?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows raised, curiosity filling his voice. 

“Because he still likes Nancy.” 

-

Everyone had paid for one round. And you were now debating if you should go home or stay for a little longer. 

Nancy wanted to leave, and so did Robin. 

Eddie didn’t mind.

Steve wanted to stay. 

And you weren’t sure why but so did you. 

So, the table only had three new beers now, and a louder conversation. 

The bar had filled up, and the music was louder now. So of course you needed to scream a bit to hear each other. Again you weren’t really talking about anything important, just enjoying the company they provided, and the warmth that you felt being in a space with your favourite people. 

“Edds, I’m going out for a smoke break, wanna come?” You asked softly, the yellow packet already on your hand, trying not to feel nervous as you feel Steve looking deep into your eyes. 

“Um, not really… I really need to take a piss.” He laughs a bit more than necessary, the alcohol finally taking him over. 

“I’ll come.” Steve's voice finally could be heard. That stupid smile in his lips anytime he gets to spend quiet time with you. 

“Come on.” You smiled shyly as you stood up, a bit too fast, feeling the alcohol all at once once you finally were out of your chair. 

The cold air was the first thing that you felt, hitting you right in the middle of your chest, though you did not feel its coldness, at least not now. Not when he was right there beside you.

You’ll deny it every time somebody asks, but the way he lights the cigarette was hypnotizing. 

His long fingers curving to stop the wind from blowing away the flame, his lips holding it tightly, his eyes looking down carefully so that he does not burn himself. And just the way his nose and parted lips would shine in a soft orange light once the flame was ignited, it made him look both peaceful and angelic. But honestly, that wasn’t the best part. 

The best part of his little ritual came when he’d scooch over you, his face still -even if it was soft enough that he wouldn't notice- scrunched up, concentrating so that the flame wouldn’t disappear. His hands covering the end of your cigarette now, and he would look at you attentively, holding the lighter until smoke came out of your lips. 

You didn’t pay attention to him in that moment -you never could if you didn’t wanna burn yourself- but if you did you’d see the way his eyes couldn’t stay away from the way your lips look. 

And then, he’d always say and do the same thing. 

First, he takes a step back, so he’s not actually so close to you in case it would annoy you, but his feet would stay pointed at you, just like his attention was fully with you, and the way you look up at him. her and her dove eyes. He thinks he could see them even if he closes his eyes. 

Then his free hand would travel to the top of his head, retouching his hair once again, he does that right before he tilted his head to the left.

Then he always asks the same thing. 

“So, how are you doing?” 

And you’d always say the same thing. 

“Good, I’m doing good.” 

But really, you wanted to say. 

“I’m always good when I’m with you.” 

But it didn’t matter how much you'd drink, you never find the courage. 

But for some reason, today, after he asked you how you were doing he kept talking. 

“I’m not gonna lie to you Henderson, I’m getting pretty drunk today.” And he laughed. I could listen that laugh forever, you kept thinking. Though you didn’t need to say it, he knew it as soon as you smiled up at him and bite your lower lips as you looked at him. 

It drove him mad. 

“Honestly?” You asked as he kept laughing. He nodded and scratched the bridge of his nose with his thumb, cigarette still in his hand. “I’m getting drunk too.”

“Can I tell you something else?” He demanded, his eyebrows raising for just a second, your cheeks starting to hurt from just how much you were smiling. As soon as you nodded he lowered his head, and his voice. “It’s a really stupid thing.” He added, his words slurring a bit. 

“It’s never stupid if you say it.” You say back. It always happened, when you were drunk you could not lie, and with that, you’d say things more sincerely, calmer and softer. Even more when Steve was the one listening to them. 

“You look really pretty today.” 

You were expecting everything but that. Your face lighted up, your eyes shined brighter and you didn’t even know your smile could grow wider. You shook your head and scoffed. A friendly and shocked reaction over such sincerity. 

“You’re an idiot.” It’s the only thing you managed to say back. 

But he knew you were happy. Just as much as he knew his heart had skipped a beat as soon as he saw your eyes squint for a second. It was becoming impossible to act normal around you, he realised. 

You stayed there, under the cold starry sky, not saying anything, and it didn’t matter. You didn’t need to. 

Once you finished smoking in such a comfortable silence it was hard to go back inside, but even if you wanted to stay in that quiet moment, you headed back, only to find Eddie deep in a conversation with a girl you didn’t know. 

Well, it wasn’t really a conversation, more so he had his arm around her waist and was following her out. 

Steve laughed in shock first, after looking at you. 

“Guess that means we’ll have to drink his beer.” You add in a chuckle. 

- 

Your body was all warm and fuzzy. You weren’t going to drink anymore. 

But Steve seemed to keep going, you weren’t sure why, probably just the habit, oblivious to you, it was to calm his nervous thoughts. 

The bar was about to close, and that meant that it was getting quiet again, no need to scream anymore. 

“Your ears get red when you’ve had enough to drink.” You point out touching the tips of Steve’s ears, brushing his hair behind them. You were giggly and touchy, even more so now that no rational thought was in your brain. 

“Well… so does your nose.” He replays back, his eyes softer, as he lets his index finger touch the tip of your nose. “bub.” He adds. You’re not sure if he says it as a reaction to touching it or as a pet name, but you don’t care either way. 

“You’re wasted Harrington.” You giggle as you say his last name, your hands travelling down his neck, into his chest, falling clumsy -but softly- into his lap. He loses his breath for a second as he lets himself enjoy the way your skin feels against his. 

“Like father, like son, right?” He half jokes as he raises the beer he still is working on finishing. 

“What?” You shake your head at him. “No, no way. You look just like your mom.” You add. Your voice feels like a soft song to him at that moment. People never tell him that he looks like his mom, even if he always wanted that. 

“You’re the first person to say that, y’know” He confesses, his hand now resting on his hand, his eyes looking deep into yours. 

“Well… It’s true. Your mom’s beautiful, and so are you.” Your cheeks go red as soon as you realize what you just said. Though you mean every word of it. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” He asks, for a second it seems like he’s mocking you, but you know him well enough to know that he’s just shocked at the way you say things, so truthfully, so honestly. You always have the ability to leave him speechless. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” You sound more sure of yourself now, as you snatch a little beer from his bottle, he looks at you with his eyebrows raised, surprised and in absolute awe of you. 

“Not handsome?” You shake your head no as you giggle a bit at him, “Beautifull” He elongates the last L, a grin appearing on his lips. 

That stupid Steve grin. 

“Beautiful people are soft and kind. Not just on the outside, but all of them. That’s you.” His whole expression softened, even more if it was possible. His eyes were a pool of honey and coffee, and they could not stop looking at you, with pure adoration. 

“You’re the one being an idiot now.” 

You giggled as you felt the last sip travel down your throat, you nodded before looking back at him. 

“They’re closing, we should go.” You point out once you see the lights of the bar light up. The universal sign that the night had come to an end. 

-

The ride home was always fun, and worth remembering, every single one. 

This one however, was special. 

Your hand rested on the back of his head, playing with his hair lazily, not really thinking about it. It felt nice, and it was the closest you could be to him. 

That’s what you thought anyway.

What you didn’t expect was Steve deciding to let his hand rest on top of your thigh, not striking it, not squeezing it, it just rested there. His thumb drew a repetitive pattern, a kind of gesture that to you meant I’m here, but to him it screamed I don’t wanna leave.

Once he stopped the car in front of your house, he whipped around to look at you. Once again, he said nothing. He just looked at you. You knew what Robin would say if he saw that, probably something like stop admiring at each other and go to bed, please?. Eddie would probably just laugh and give you a little shove. But right now, the only thing that escaped your lips (that might be trembling because of your nervous heart, or maybe it was because his hand was still in your thigh, and yours was still on the back of his neck) was a soft “Thank you” And he just shook his head, a its nothing gesture. 

Though you weren’t ready for him to get out of his car once you were already on the steps of your house. 

“You okay Steve?” You asked as you saw him approaching. 

He didn’t say anything. 

He just hugged you. 

It had never felt like this. His hands holding you closer than ever, his head resting on the nape of your neck. Of course you returned the feeling, holding him thigh, not wanting to let go. Your head rested on his chest, and you could smell every inch of him. Aftershave, a deep cologne, the beer that you had drank and cigarette smoke. You closed your eyes for a second, trying to memorise how it all felt, how his respiration slowed for that moment, how he took a deep breath before letting you go and how he looked down at you, his honey eyes shining. His cheeks a bit flustered, and you're guessing that yours are too. 

“Yeah. Good night honey.” 

honeyhoneyhoney. 

-

“It would just be a quick drop, you wouldn’t even be five minutes late I swear!” Dustin whined again. He knew he was getting you annoyed, and frustrated, he could tell by the way your eyebrows were scrunched up and your nails were getting buried into your waist, holding tight onto something so you wouldn’t snap at him. 

“It’s not about dropping you off, it’s just…” You always had trouble communicating when you were like this, when your thoughts were going faster than your actions, when you got overwhelmed by things that nobody seemed to get overwhelmed by. “I’m supposed to go to Edds show, and I really don’t want to be late, because if I am, I might not find them and then that would mean I-”

“They’ll wait for you.” He looked down at the floor, his hands had his fingers intertwined, the same anxious tick you had, it looks like he inherited that too. “Please? Will goes back to California in a couple days and we really want to finish his campaign.”

You nodded, you understood the need to see someone, a friend. You know how much Dustin misses Will when he’s not around. He nodded back, and he sat on top of your bed. Happy. Calm, not pushing your buttons anymore. 

“So… Who’s going?” 

“Where?”

“To Eddie’s show.” He gestured with his hands, a weird look in his face that you had no time to get into. 

“Um, Robin and Steve.” You add back, your voice a bit higher in pitch, turning your back so you can look into your closet, hoping to find something that might work. Your indecision -you often think- is the worst thing that happens to you. “Nancy was supposed to come but she said something came up, so…”

“She didn’t tell you?” The tone of his voice made you turn fast to him, a shocked honesty that makes you wonder. 

“Tell me what?”

“Her and Jonathan got back together.” 

“Oh.” oh. “How do you know?” Your ears were ringing, poor Steve you thought. Poor heart-broken Steve, the only thing you ever wanted for him was for him to be happy, it didn’t matter with who, as long as he actually loved the person and was loved in return. 

“Steve told me.” Even if your little brother’s voice was calm, he was still looking at you with that same look. The one he uses when he’s trying to gather information, seeking a reaction, and if you were being honest, he was getting one. 

“Is Steve okay?” You needed to know, because right now it was all you could think about, about the kind boy that deserves to be loved, even if it can’t be by you. 

“You’re kidding? He helped Jonathan get her back!” That confused you even further, why would Steve help him get the girl he’s in love, get together with someone else. You turned back and started grabbing different tops and shirts and laying them above the bed. 

“Why would he do that? Isn’t he like, in love with Nance?” The way he started laughing made your shoulders tense for a second, jumping at such a reaction. “What are you laughing for?”

“He’s not in love with her! Jesus, you can be blind sometimes…” The palm of his face brushes his face as he looks at you, a puzzled look still on yours. 

“I don’t know what you’re on kid, but I need to get ready and have no clue what to actually wear so…” He picked up the white tank top and threw it to you. 

“You’re an idiot sometimes, you know that?” Dustins i’m much clever than you tone came back as he stood up. You rolled your eyes at him and gave him a petty smile. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told.” 

-

As you parked outside where Eddie was playing, a few minutes late, you grew nervous. The parking lot was full of cars, and finding a spot took longer than you anticipated, so by the time you found a spot and got to the entrance, the queue only seemed longer and longer. People standing in a not-so-neat line, chatting amongst themselves, shivering away the coldness of the night. Cigarette smoke and off-key lyrics filled the ambient of the people pulled away. 

You realise at that moment, you didn’t have a ticket. 

Steve and Robin had gotten in with Eddie. 

And you had no idea how to get in, so you took a quick lap to see if you found someone, anyone. 

Thankfully for you, Steve was by the entrance door, chatting away with one of the security guys. Even if Steve was tall, and had a wide back, the man talking to him toward over him, it almost made you giggle, seeing him as someone smaller, when he usually was the one that filled the room, even with just his presence. 

As you walked to him, smoke escaping your lips and a scent of burnt smoke following you, you remembered the conversation you had with Dustin. And still, you didn’t believe him, at least not until you saw the way his demeanor changed when you approached him, and a relieved “Steve” came out of you. 

Steve lost his breath for a moment. 

You looked truly angelic, and you didn’t even need to try. You in that white tank top that made your breasts appear larger, more exposed than they’re usually are, your hair down, letting the left side of your neck free, as the wind blew, and your jeans hugging every curve of your body. It drove him mad. Even worse, he always loved when you wore red lipstick, like tonight. 

Of course he wasn’t in love with anyone but you. 

But you didn’t know. 

The same way he didn’t know just how much it drove you crazy when his shirts hugged his arms like that, his veins more prominent when his arms were crossed on his chest. His hair always seemed to float, like it had a gravity of his own, but that single strand of hair that felt in between his eyes made you focus on him more. His soft honey dark eyes that were only looking at you, half lidded and full of adoration. It drove you crazy.

Of course you weren’t in love with anyone but him. 

But he didn’t know. 

Just like you had thought until a few hours ago that he still loved, or liked Nancy, it wasn’t until he had picked up Robin a few minutes ago that he didn’t find out that what you had with Eddie was purely platonic. Robin had laughed just as much as Dustin did, and called him an idiot all the same. But still, you both thought that your feelings weren’t returned, because that would be too perfect to be real. Impossible, just a dream. 

However, the way your name sounded when Steve said it made you forget about everything else, and just focus on him. 

A quick hug, not like the one he had given you that night he had driven you the night after you’d spent your entire night in a bar. You had come to realise, he became braver once some time had passed, and so did you. 

So you headed inside, where Robin was waiting for the both of you in the bar, a warm welcome and a big cheers with some beers that you grabbed as you moved further into the pit. 

The crowd was electric, everyone cheering for the show to start, eager to sing along with the band. You followed along, screamed when Corroded Coffin finally came on stage, whoo’d Eddie when he asked How are you doing Indianapolis and laughed when he admitted that he missed saying how are you Hawkins. 

Robin cheered the loudest and it made Steve laugh. One of those authentic, closing your eyes and holding your stomach kind of laughs. You thought that it was one of the highlights of the night already. 

But as these things often go, once Eddie’s band was over, and the next one came, the bar got even more crowded, and the lights felt brighter, and everyone seemed to be looking at you, judging or god knows what. Everyone seemed to bump into you, and you had already pulled the glue out of your empty cristal bottle on both sides. Breathing was becoming a hard task, and so did hearing anything that was being said to you. 

“Honey” You heard Steve as soon as you felt his warm hand on your shoulder. You looked up to him, a haze in your eyes.”Are you okay?” He halved screamed into your ear, his breath lingering into your skin. 

You pull him closer for a moment, afraid he might not listen. 

“Too many people.” You’re not sure if he could hear you, or what he could do. You try even harder to relax your breathing, to stop looking around. But it all ends when you feel his fingers intertwined with yours. 

You look up to him, he just nods to Robin who nods back at him, and he starts walking to the back of the pit, the lights seem to not burn anymore, and the people are few and far between. He just stays there, with you for a second before he opens his mouth. Looking at you and the way your eyes are scanning every single person in the room, looking for something that you don’t know what is.

“Honey?” There it is again, the soft worried Steve voice, his attention only on you. 

You look back at him, as you feel his hand grabbing yours thighter. He’s the only thing you’re looking at now. 

“Do you need to get out? Get some air?” He knows you won’t actually answer, but takes the nodding that you do as a clear enough sign. 

The creaking of the door and the friendly doorman brings you back down to earth, and so does the wind hitting your chest. 

“Better?” He asks again, desperate for some sort of confirmation from you. 

“Yeah, I just- Sorry…” You sort of mumble, more to yourself than to him. 

In that moment you realise that your hands are still tangled together, and the blood rushes to your cheeks as soon as you look down at them. They fit together so naturally, you think. Like a missing piece of a puzzle. 

“Don’t apologize. We’ll stay here as long as you need, ‘s fine.” You instinctively bite the inside of your cheek as you nod at him, a soft smile, a thank you of sort appears on your face, as does a grin on his. 

Without letting go of you, he reaches down into his jeans front pocket, and takes out a box of Camel, offering you to take one. Smoking might be bad for your lungs, but it does help with regulating your breathing, and he knew that’s just what you needed, and honestly, you were craving one, so you nodded again, searching for a lighter with the cigarette already in between your lips. Before you even find it, you feel the warmth of fire close to your mouth, and you just inhale the smoke. 

“Thank you…” He shakes his head, as he inches closer to you, the same strand of hair falling between his eyes again. 

“There’s no need for that.” He whispers, his words just as sweet as he is. His free hand pushes your hair behind your ear, and falls slowly to the nape of your neck, letting it rest there for just a second, his thumb stroking the end of your jaw in soft short motions, holding you up so you look at him, your doe eyes looking deep into his, he swears he could melt right here and there. You were driving him crazier everyday with the way you looked at him. 

For a second there, he thinks you might even love him back. 

“I just don’t know why I get like that, when there’s so many… I dunno” you scoff off, as your shoulders shrug ever so slightly, enough for him to catch, enough for your hair to move again and let the smell of your shampoo reach him. “I’m okay, don’t worry.” You say with a smile. 

He looks deep into his eyes, looking for any sign that you might be lying, he doesn’t find any. And he likes to think that you’re better because of him. It's funny how right he is. 

“We can stay here as long as you need.” Steve reasures you once again, getting closer again. Your body and his only a push away from touching. 

“You’re always so sweet to me.” You’re thinking out loud now, you bite your lower lip as soon as you see him mask his blush with a soft chuckle, as his grin deepens, and you stop for a second to look at his pretty pink lips. You even let yourself imagine what it would be like to kiss them. 

Steve debates what to do next. He knows you’re not lying, he knows that you’re being sincere and truthful. He can tell by the way your eyes are half lidded, looking at him like you’re in the safest space possible -even when you’re actually outside downtown Indianapolis- so in the end, he just wraps his arms around you. And he holds you even tighter when he feels you wrapping your arms behind his neck, and the way you stand on your tiptoes so you can hold him closer, your leg between his, his hands playing with the ends of your air. He breathes you in, intoxicating himself with the way you smell. You’re worried he’ll feel just how fast your heart is beating. But you’re too occupied smiling deeply and sincerely. 

He feels safe. 

Yes, there might be some butterflies, but they’re not nervous ones, it’s all just calmness. Love even. 

-

He ends up paying for your drinks, and you spend the night dancing at the back of the pit with Robin and eventually Eddie joins you. You laugh, and dance around, sing the songs off key with Robin making Eddie laugh as he joins you. Admiring the way Steve covers his face embarrassed, that the idiots causing the whole club to cheer you on as you move are indeed his friends. But what makes you have the deepest smile is everytime you catch Steve eyes, thay always seem to be on you. He even dances with you a couple times when Robin or Eddie go away to the bathroom or to grab more drinks. 

You don’t care because he is here and everything feels right. 

But the night was coming to an end, and you still were buzzing with energy. 

Even outside, where the cold wind wrapped around you you were still singing and dancing until Eddie started speaking. 

“Steve, can I take your car?” He asks, and it makes you all turn around and look at him. 

“What for? Where’s your van?” Robin followed, her voice raised a little too loud. 

“I think Gareth might have taken it.” Eddie explains as he points at his van driving away, with Gareth in the driver’s seat. You can’t help but laugh a bit, stopping slowly as you feel Steve laying his arm around your shoulders, you let yourself think of it as an embrace. Or maybe he was just cold. 

“Who’ll drive me home?” He mutters as he searches for the keys in his pocket. 

“I’ll drive you.” You say, looking up at him. Steve’s eyes shine brighter, with that look. A look you have only seen in him once before, long ago. 

“Sure.” He mutters, a grin in his face. “You won’t kill us?” He jokes as he pushes some hair away from your face with the hand that rests right where your neck meets your shoulder.

“I’ll come with you” Robin mumbles as she approaches Eddie, her eyebrows raised. 

Steve knows that if Robin could talk to him now she would plead with him, to actually make a move. He decides that she’s right. 

“Alright, let’s get home.” Eddie winks at you, a look that begs you to be careful. He grabs the keys that Steve throws him, the jingle of them making you realise that this was actually happening. 

You blame it on the alcohol. But you have to admit that holding his waist was something you have wanted to do for so long its feels fucking angelic once your fingers touch his skin, under his shirt, right above the seam of his jeans. 

Steve chews gum when he’s nervous, and the minty flavor, or maybe the amount of beer inside his system makes him say the most stupid thing ever. 

“Do you like gum?” 

“Yeah” 

“You want some?” 

“Sure.” You stop, expecting him to reach down his pocket and grab the small packet. You part your lips open expecting him to do so. Instead, Steve in a bold move opens his mouth and pulls you closer. 

Before you can even process what he’s doing, his thumb reaches your jaw, opening your mouth a bit more for you, and you see the way his tongue places the minty gum on your lips. You had closed your eyes. Thinking he was going to do something else. 

It had made you nervous and weak all the same. You can’t help but think, as you take a few steps, your hand holding even tighter onto him, that was one of the hottest things you had ever seen. 

It got better. 

After a few steps he talked again. His voice sultier, deeper. His eyes somehow were darker, but still looked like they were full of adoration for you. 

“Does that gum still have some taste on it?” 

“Yeah, minty” You manage to say. 

“Can I have some?” 

This time around, it's you who grabs him. And you can feel the way he smiles at that, and the way his fingers hold your face up again to meet him. This time it’s you who gives him the gum back. 

Only, you place it between your lips, and it's his tongue that gets it. 

In that moment you know, you’re fucked. 

And so does he. 

-

“Honey?” He asks as he sees you pulling into his street. 

The whole drive back home had been exactly like the last time. Except this time the way he would caress your leg felt hungry for your touch back, and your fingers would end up intertwined, singing the songs that came into the radio, not really paying attention, all of it focused on the way he was playing with your fingers. 

“Mmmh?” 

“My car keys may have been chained to my house keys.” He admits, embarrassed, as he covers his face. You can’t help but look at him and laugh a bit. 

“S’okay, you can sleepover.” He nods and you change directions. 

And before you know it you’re already parked, and he’s already following you inside. 

That’s when it hits you. 

Steve is in your room. 

Steve is sleeping over in your bed. 

Steve had practically kissed you. 

whatthehellisgoingon

You shake your head, not wanting to read too much into things that haven’t and might never happen. 

“I uh… I’m going to change.” You whisper, a bit of shame could be felt on your words, and Steve just nodded, lost in the sight that was you in your room. “Do you need anything?” 

“No, I… Usually just sleep with my boxers on.” That confession made you blush and bite your lower lip as you nodded. Not really knowing what to do or say. 

So you just turned around, you took off your bra, tossing it on the floor before you took off the white tank you had. You reached for your sleep shirt. An old grey shirt that was way overdue to throw away, but it was long enough and soft enough that you felt it was perfect for sleeping in. So, Steve just enjoyed the show. 

He stayed there, watching the way your body moved. He was the one that had his eyebrows raised, his chest racing and his cheeks flushed. He was lost in you. And you were painfully obvious that he was looking, maybe that’s why you take a bit longer to take off your tank top before putting on the gray shirt. Maybe that's why your heart skips a beat when you hear the sound of his belt hitting the ground at the same time that his jeans did. While you took your own jeans off, he took off his shirt. 

You knew you had to turn around now. 

And as you did you go lost in him. 

Him standing there, in nothing but his black boxers, framing all of him. Him and his chest with some hair, trailing all the way down to his waistband. That was an image you probably would never be able to forget. 

He took the first step. A soft grin appears in his lips once again. As he pushes the same flock of hair behind your ear, you can't help but tilt your head into his touch. He takes another step forwards, and just looks at you, deep into your eyes. You both chuckle, nervously at the situation, and like before, he holds you. Thight. Only this time, you can feel him against your leg. It makes you press your own legs together a bit more. 

Once he lets go, you slide into the bed, and he closes the lights, following you closely. 

“Is it okay if you hug me?” You ask. 

“Mmh.” He’s at a loss for words. 

He cuddles you, feeling you closer than ever before. And one of his hands gets lost into your thigh, right where your waistband meets your skin, tracing it. Softly. It drives you insane. Steve’s breathing into your hair, and you can feel how his breathing is fastening, just as much he can feel yours, by the way your stomach goes up and down. He can’t help himself anymore. He leaves a wet kiss on your neck. 

That’s all it takes. 

You turn around and you know you’re fucked. You can’t hold yourself anymore. You explote. 

You kiss him. 

The way his lips press against yours feels like he really wanted this, maybe even as much as you did. Your body pulls him closer, and his leg finds itself tangled in between yours. He’s lost in you and the way your mouth feels. He bites your lower lip, softly. And as soon as you feel the tug a soft whimper escapes your lips. Steve melts into you even more, his legs putting pressure in that spot between your legs that is already throbbing for him. Your hands find the back of his neck, and become buried into his hair. His soft chestnut hair. His hands begin to train up, inside your shirt. Holding your waist harder than before. Another moan escapes your kiss swollen lips, and he grunts in return. 

He tries to memorise you, and the way you look like now. To him, you’re a goddess fallen from the sky, and he’s the lucky one. 

He climbs above you, tracing kisses down your neck, as his hands travel up, up enough to meet your breast and press down, even carefully he’s strong enough and skilled enough to pinch your nipples, making them hard. And your legs wrap around him, and you can’t quite believe just how big he’s gotten just from kissing you. 

His hands take off your shirt and as soon as he looks at you he’s a goner. 

“Fuck, you’re beautifull honey.” He groans. A deep voice you’ve never heard from him. 

It makes you pull him closer. And he starts to move, his cock and your clit being only separated by the small fabric between you both. 

“Can I-” He cuts you off as he looks up at you, stopping the trail of kisses he wanted to finish on your left breast. 

“You can do anything you want to me honey” 

You can’t help yourself. The wetness patch only growing on your thong. You needed him, but you were so desperate to touch him, to see him. 

You flipped him around, leaving him laid on your mattress, his hands up in shock. He’s surprised by you in the best way possible. 

You were the one kissing him senseless now, as you grind on top of him. HE grew harder and stiffer with every time your clit pressed against him. His hands grabbed your ass in that moment, hard and burying his fingers as deep as he could. You wasted no time kissing every beauty mark that you could see, slowly going down his stomach, his breath shortening, sucking in and groaning your name in the most delicious way you have never heard anyone say it. 

Your hands found the hem of his underwear and pulled it down. He was so big. His pink tip already wet with pre-cum, and it was all because and for you. Your eyes widened with desire, you had to taste him. 

So you did. 

It only took a lick for Steve to shiver, and that made nothing but turn you on even more. His hand had now started to press on your clit through the fabric. It didn’t matter, it felt too good. 

So, as you looked deep into his eyes, you wrapped your lips around him, and you went down. 

Steve had never been more desperate, the eye contact, you and your pretty doe eyes looking at him like he was the only thing in the world. 

His fingers had pushed your thong to your side, and started messing around your entrance, it wasn’t until his waist flinched forward, making you swallow him whole, that he didn’t actually finger you. 

But once he did, he couldn’t stop, and neither could you. 

The way you moaned, with him still inside you, the way your waist moved, letting him get more aces into you, it drove him mad, he needed you, like really needed you. 

“Steve, please” You begged. 

That’s all it took. 

His hands took off your thong and pulled you up, he kissed you deeply, his tongue getting lost with yours. Your soft lips fit perfectly with his, and the wetness of his cock still in them. 

He was above you again. Three fingers in, your legs already up, he had you prepared you enough for him to enter, but anyway, when you felt the way his cock slided into you, your walls tensed up for a second, and you both moaned as soon as you felt each other. 

“God, you feel so nice honey” He whispered into your ear before biting it. 

Your legs wrapped around him, tightly, and your hands were on his back, pushing him deeper. He wanted to go slow, but seeing you so helpless, so needy for him, made him pick up the pace. With every thrust, your eyes rolled deeper into your head, your muscles relaxed, and your feet were pointed. 

The warmth of his skin felt so good against yours you felt as if it would never be enough, even if you wanted to scream his name, you couldn’t. Everyone was sleeping. So you did the only thing you could.

“I’ve wanted you for so long Steve '' You whispered into his ears in between thrusts. You felt how his head hangs lower after that, his back arched so he could reach even lower. And when you thought he was as deep as he could, he placed an arm behind you, reaching that place that even you couldn’t. 

“So have I honey.” He admitted before kissing you, a deep, wet kiss. Followed by many more repressed moans and loud groans. “I’m all yours.” 

“I’m all yours” You repeated. 

He grabbed your leg and pushed it up, he was so deep now you could feel him everywhere. You were lost in him. The way his hair bounced, the way his eyes looked at you, his lips swollen because he couldn’t and wouldn’t stop kissing you. 

He was a goner. And so were you. 

You hadn’t come this hard in so long. 

You melted into eachothers arms. 

You had a silent moment, where it was all soft kisses and caresses. You couldn’t quite believe that that had just happened. 

Or how good it had been. 

“I meant it.” You heard him whisper, his lips pressed against your ear. 

“What?” 

“I’m all yours.” He repeats. Leaving a kiss in your hair. “I’ve always been.”

“I mean it too.” You let him know, your nose brushing his, your fingers tangled with his. “I’ve liked you for so long, my love.” 

He laughs a bit. Maybe it was the confession he had just got out of you, maybe it was because you had just called him my love. 

“God, me too.” He finally admits, a weight being pulled away from his chest. “But I thought you had a thing for Eddie.” 

“And I thought you still loved-” He shuts you up with a kiss. 

“We broke up because I was falling for you.” He finally admits. 

You can’t stop smiling or kissing. 

You don’t think you ever will. 

-

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

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[gabriellessworldd]

Never get yo bitch back!

☆ Part one ☆

plug!connie x black fem reader

wc- 2.3k!

☆ warnings ☆: this is part 2, if you haven't read part 1 you should read that first. Not proof read! this might be a lil longer than i intended. mdni! small small time skip (3 weeks since the party, fb is included), mentions of guns, smut again lol i'll write some fluff soon maybe angst who knows 😜, pnv, degradation, oral (f&m receive), choking, spanking, praising, Connie get a lil mad

"what..what the fuck is wrong with y'all?"

The seven letter question still fresh in your mind 3 weeks later. Sure what you and Connie did was wrong, but what Eren did was way worse.

(fb to party night)

Connie stood there tying his sweats nonchalantly while you fumbled to put your clothes frantically. Eren looked heated, his fists clenched while he poked his tongue at his cheek. "One of y'all fucking say something." Eren's eyes darted between y'all, "Oh cállate perra, no actúes como si te importara ahora." oh shut up btc don't act like you care now Connie started walking towards Eren and he stood up straight looking Connie in his eyes "Whatchu gon do bitch boy? You can have the slut I don't care" Connie chuckled and punched Eren in his jaw. Eren grabbed his face and swung at Connie's nose, leaving a trail of blood running from it.

The boys traded hits each of them landing until Eren paused and spoke, "You know what, ion even know why I'm fighting about this shit, I cheated on yo ass wit Annie anyways." He looked at you with a smug grin on his face. That's when Connie finally had enough, he pulled his gun from his waistband and pointed it right at Eren. "Say some dumb shit to her again and I swear to god ima shoot you bitch." Eren then pulled his gun out and pointed it right back at Connie "Cmon then pussy you ain't gon do it." You watched the situation unfold, stunned by Erens words. Neither Connie or Eren was backing down and all you could do was watch. No one was still at Jean's house besides Ony, Armin, and Jean. They all decided to come upstairs after hearing the commotion and were shocked to find Connie and Eren pointing guns at each other.

"You wanna know something else Y/n, I fucked her a month ago nd her pussy was wayyy better." Eren looked at you over Connie's shoulder, making sure you heard him, and at that moment you realized that you meant nothing to him at all, the year of unconditional love and being his #1 supporter meant nothing to him. 'pop!' You looked around in horror when you heard the sound of a gun go off, you never expected either of them to actually shoot each other. You looked at Eren and watched him clutch his side, blood staining his pure white tee.

"damn Connie what the fuck bro" Ony was shocked "I mean at least ian kill him" Connie said slipping his gun back in his waistband and popping his blood stained knuckles "We gotta get him to the fucking hospital" Armin sighed and rolled his eyes before speaking again, "Y'all couldn't just talk this shit out like normal people?" Jean looked at Armin puzzled "Y'all worried about them fucking talking it out, he just shot him in my damn house man" He started pacing back and forth while clutching his head, slightly tugging at his hair "Got his ass gushing blood on my carpet." Eren looked at Connie "Fuck you bro. you deadass shot me" None of them were taking this serious at all, this felt so normal like it didn't phase any of them.

Armin and Ony helped Eren get in the backseat of Armin's car, "Sorry man but he ain't fucking up my nice cream seats." Ony said shrugging. Connie grabbed your hand and lead you to his car, while Jean stayed at home to clean. Connie hasn't said a word to you or looked you in the eyes since he shot Eren, just staring into the distance, deep in thought. It wasn't like he had never shot anyone before, this was his lifestyle, he was used to it at this point, and after being involved in this shit for so long, all of them were. He was scared that you would think less of him, that you wouldn't want to be around him, that you would find someone else who wouldn't shoot his homeboy for you. But honestly when you saw how far he'd go for you, it made you crave him even more.

"Thank you, Constance" you looked at him with a peaceful expression on your face, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and his face softened when he heard you speak, "Anything for you, hermosa"

(back to present)

"Y/nnn I'm back" Connie yelled, coming in through your front door sliding his yeezy slides off while setting down a bag of cfa and a bouquet of beautifully arranged roses. You'd given Connie a key to your apartment 2 weeks ago after he started visiting you everyday. Something about you made Connie feel at peace, the way you smile at him, how your eyes light up when talking about your interests, the way your face tells how you're feeling, even the way you would glare at him for not cleaning up after himself. Maybe it wasn't just something, it was everything about you. He loved being able to visit you anytime, you'd always make him feel cherished, like you cared for him so deeply.

"Hola mi hermosa, how you doing?" Connie walked towards you and wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you softly. "Hi Con, I'm good. What'd you get to eat?" You stretched, body feeling stiff after laying in bed most of the day. Connie went and grabbed the stuff from the table by your door, "Here, also these are for you princesa." He handed you the roses and you looked at him with teary eyes, "Con, these are so beautiful. What are they for?" You grabbed them from his tattooed hands "Damn I can't just do something nice for you" He chuckled wiping the small tears from your tanned cheeks.

You both finished eating and were laying in your bed when you heard the front door open. You and Connie both got up, he grabbed his gun from off the nightstand and walked in front of you. Standing in your living room was none other than Eren Jaeger with the box in his hands you'd labeled 'trash', it was all his belongings that had been left in your house, and after that night you stuffed it all lazily into the large box. "Just came to get my shit, ian looking for y'all asses." Eren chuckled to himself and looked at you and Connie, a large scar across his left cheek from when Connie punched him with his rings on, a reminder of that night.

"Hurry up and get the fuck out my house." You spat out looking him up and down "Damn Y/n, you so rude to me now. Can't even answer the phone for me no more" Eren looked at you smugly, he knew you had him blocked, he just wanted to fuck with you. "Shut the fuck up bro just grab yo shit nd dip" Connie crossed his arms and leaned back on your counter "Can you mind yo fuckin business?" Eren rolled his eyes and picked up the box. "Give me yo spare key too" Connie didn't want Eren coming back again. Eren threw the key at Connie and walked to the door, "Y/n, you know what my number is, let me know when his bitch ass ain't home" He winked at you and closed the door behind him. "The fuck?" Eren's lil comment made Connie's blood boil.

Connie grabbed you by the throat and pulled your head towards his. The kiss was anything but sweet, it was so sloppy, so nasty, it put french kissing to shame. He sucked and bit on your neck leaving marks behind, "You look so pretty like this mama". Connie picked you up and carried you to you bedroom, he dropped you on the bed "you know I love you, right?" Connie looked at you with a cold stare, "uh yea, why Con'?" you grew anxious and shuffled on the bed. "Cause im finna fuck you like I don't."

Connie stood over you, pulling your small pj shorts down revealing that you didn't have on panties. You laid back on the bed as Connie got on his knees and fixed himself between your legs, resting them on his shoulders. Connie spread open your soft folds with his middle and index fingers coating them in your slick, "So wet for me mami, ay dios mios" oh my god You let out a soft gasp when his fingers grazed over your clit. Connie dived in, sucking on your clit, starting off fast in hopes of you becoming a wet mess quickly. He pushed both fingers in, pumping slowly. "mm Con' faster please" He listened and picked up the pace drastically, curling his fingers hitting that soft, spongy spot "a-ah! fuck Con' right there!" You cried out feeling him lick and suck on your clit again. His left arm was keeping you secured so you wouldn't move your legs. Your hands were tangled in his short hair, gripping as much as you could. "Cmon mami, I wanna taste you" Connie continued the rough pace making your legs gently shake. You could feel the familiar tingle in your lower stomach, Connie noticed you were close, feeling you slightly tighten around his fingers. "Ah! Con' Fuck! 'm gonna" Your words were cut off when a final pump of his fingers clouded your vision. Connie lifted his face, entire bottom half covered in your wetness, "Tan deliciosa, como siempre" so delicious as always

Connie relentlessly fucked your face, his heavy balls slapping your chin with every thrust. His fingers were buried in your hair, keeping your head in place. "Ah fuck mami, feels so good" Your teary eyes looking up at him as he continued his brutal pace, gagging you. Connie paused giving you a false sense of relief, "t-take it all ma" He pushed your head down, forcing you to take all his length. "mm fuck ma i'm cumming" You felt the hot spurts travel down your throat and swallowed, leaving behind a slight burn. "Such a good slut for me hm?"

You were currently on your back, legs pressed next to your ears as Connie fucked you nice and slow, one hand stabilizing himself while the other was pressing on your stomach. "a-ah Con' please, go faster" You knew saying this was like a challenge, but still you wanted to feel the sweet sting of him stretching you out. "hm princesa, you gon be a good girl and handle it?" Connie sped up just a bit, pressing on your stomach harder. You nodded your head, "Use your words, you a big girl right?" The condescending tone of his voice made the statement bittersweet, "fuck! yes Con' i-i can" He laughed at your eagerness "alright mama, get on all 4's f'me"

Connie pressed on your back, deepening your arch. "Stay just like that baby." He rubbed his tip down your folds collecting the arousal, and pushed in without warning. "Ah!" You jumped from the sudden intrusion, "unh uh you said you was gon be a good girl" He smacked the fat of your ass, the sound echoing. Connie started thrusting, going fast just as you had previously wanted, but this pace was nothing like you imagined, "Fuck mami, throw that shit." He smacked your ass again and you obliged, "C-Con' s'too much, I can't" Your right arm went out behind you, trying to push Connie "Nah mami, t-thought this was what you wanted, right? Gimme yo other arm." You leaned forward on your chest giving Connie the left arm, he held them both tightly behind your back with his left hand. "Oh fuck Con'!" He smacked your ass again before snaking his right hand around your throat, squeezing, and pulling you up. "Fuck ma, take all this shit. Keep goin" Connie never let up his pace, fucking you dumb. "Ah Con' Fuck pleasee" You whined out, throat feeling tight from the lack of steady air. "Such a good slut f'me. You wanna cum?" His words made you tighten around him and you nodded your head as best as you could with his hand still around your neck, "What I say about that shit?" Connie sped up, "Mm yes Con'! fuck let me cum please!" Your whole body was tingling at this point, and all you wanted was to cum. "Work for it then, 'm almost there mama just wait a lil bit" Connie rutted his hips into you chasing his high, "F-fuck mami" You were desperately trying to hold off, feeling that knot continuously tighten with every thrust. "Go ahead mama." His words were like music to your ears. You finally let go, the last thrust sending you toppling over, Connie right behind you. The warm liquid filled you up, and he pulled out, spilling some out of you "Mm princesa, hiciste un desastre." you made a mess

Connie helped you shower, and changed the sheets on your bed after putting the old ones in the washer. Connie wrapped your hair up and put your bonnet on, "yea ima have to get you a new wig" Connie giggled making you look at him and roll your eyes "Alright my bad, but for real ima send you some money so you can go get all gorgeous nd shit" You looked up at Connie's face "You bein for real?" You never had somebody offer to take care of your beauty needs. "Hell yea mama, nd I'm hoping that you gon be so excited wit me that you'll dye my hair after." Connie smiled, then he started laughing, "Awl shut up Connie, matter fact get out my bed." You rolled your eyes and soon ended up laughing too. Connie kept his arms around you tightly as y'all drifted off to sleep.

☆ taglist ☆: @universal-s1ut @luccis-coochie @mccookiemonster @taylarxse @empressdede lmk if you wanna be added!

Hi lovebugs!! did I feed y'all well? 😉 I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter, what y'all wanna see in part 3? Also I appreciate all the notes, especially y'alls comments cs y'all are so sweet! Also can we talk about me reaching 100 followers and all the likes cs I never expected any of this, it's very crazy to me nd I'm so glad for all the love and support! (I said "y'all" wayyyy too much lmfao, it's the country girl in me 🤠)

-with lots of love, gabrielle <3

[megwritesriddles]

Sweetest Nectar ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Being at Hogwarts at university-level had it's perks, such as unsupervised days in the greenhouse with Neville. Reader finds herself in an unfortunate position thanks to a flower in the greenhouse and Neville has to figure out how to help while being a gentleman and preserving their friendship.

Tags: Sex pollen, Mildly dubious consent, Fingering, P in V, Unprotected sex, Begging, Friends to lovers, Minor yearning, HogwartsUniversity!AU, Post-war/Eighth year, Virgin!Neville (he just is, I don't make the rules), Too much backstory, Sentient Hogwarts, Silly fluffy ending.

Word count: 11.1k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Can you see why I've been gone so long??? This had zero business being 11k words but I'm a chronic overexplainer so here we are!! Skip the first 9 paragraphs if you don't care about any worldbuilding. Continuing my 'Neville gets muscular as he gets older' agenda as per. The last line is so dumb... Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

P.S. this is technically day 23 of my kinktober but it's january so lets not talk about that

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Hogwarts worked in mysterious ways, with its own indecipherable motives. This much had always been true but was especially recognised lately. Once rebuild efforts had concluded after the war, Professor McGonagall, like every headmaster before her, bar Severus Snape, had sent out invitations to recent graduates to join the Higher Education program, a two-year program that would prepare its students to become a professor in any chosen field, subject to meeting entry requirements of the course. Demand for this program was higher than it ever had been, so many recent Hogwarts graduates felt like they had missed so much time at Hogwarts, that they were willing to come back on the program just to make up for lost time. At first, McGonnagal thought of shutting the whole thing down or at least raising entry requirements for joiners; there wasn’t exactly enough room in the designated Higher Education quarters for all the applicants. And though the regular student population had dwindled significantly over the course of the war (best not thought about too hard), it seemed wrong to try and room adults with 15-year-olds just to fit everyone in. The night before she intended to send out the letters of amendment to the required marks, McGonagall felt bizarrely compelled to go on a stroll around the castle, feeling drawn down a route she didn't often find herself going. There, she found a brand new door, behind which were brand new living quarters, just big enough for all the applicants. Although she should have been relieved, McGonagall was initially rather frustrated by this. Why now did the blasted old castle decide it could build, when nearly all summer long volunteers had been slaving away to restore the castle? The windows glittered as if to wink at her, she decided that the daft old thing must have liked the attention. McGonagall found herself relieved, she too felt that the recent graduates were not ready for the career world quite yet, having had not only their final year of study lost to the war, but the years before that tarnished by looming threats and incompetent bumblers. Also, there was an urgent need for qualified teachers of magic, so the more the merrier, even if most of them would only use it as a springboard into something else. 

You had always been a shoo-in either way, although you never got to sit your NEWTs, the honourary grades you were given were stellar, supported by fantastic results in your OWLs and overall fantastic conduct in class. The blemishes on your record from the Carrow's note-taking were wiped, leaving your record squeaky clean. You received your acceptance letter and list of supplies and felt like you were eleven again. Everyone was required to specialise in a subject, and while you'd had a couple in which you had adequate grades which you might have chosen, you went for Herbology in the end, as it was something you loved.  In all honesty, you liked Professor Sprout the best and were eager to train under her. 

As soon as you received your letter, you wrote to Neville. There was no doubt in your mind that he would be studying under Professor Sprout alongside you, despite not even knowing if he had applied to the program initially. He quickly confirmed this suspicion when he wrote back to you, saying he had a sneaky feeling about you as well. The two of you had become fast friends in the sixth year, both being in Advanced Herbology. You'd known each other a little here and there before that, but in this class, your friendship truly formed. The class was very small, as the interest in Advanced Herbology was low, most careers only required a decent grade in standard Herbology, so even those with interest had to prioritise other things for the sake of their future, such as Potions or Charms. There were only the two of you and a pair of Slytherin girls who, despite seeming genuinely very passionate about the subject, refused to converse with the two of you and whispered amongst themselves all the time. This was fine with both of you, as you had each other, taking time to study together, walking to and from class, and working efficiently during any pair work. The two of you had been ripped apart during the war, you had to steer clear of Hogwarts for your safety, and Neville, being intensely monitored by the Carrows at the time, refused to write to you and risk revealing your location to them, so you had been out of contact for quite a while. You wrote to him again on his birthday and had been corresponding a little since, but things felt slightly stunted. You hadn't seen each other in so long and Neville was never the best when it came to socialising. 

Arriving at Hogwarts once again had been intensely bittersweet. So many good and bad memories to try and process all at once, it felt overwhelming. You'd had to step outside during the sorting but found yourself far from alone out there. So many people were broken. You apprehensively made your way over to Hermione and said hello. She pulled you into a tight hug, as you hadn't seen her for a long time either. You listened as she explained about Harry and Ron, that they didn't want to go into teaching, and though she'd explained over and over that most people that do the program don't end up teaching, they'd still refused to come. Trying to make the most of it, she tells you it'll be nice to spend time with other friends for once and you nod along. She is somehow specialising in three subjects, she'd wanted to do more of course, but it hadn't been allowed. Trust Hermione to work herself to the bone happily. You'd made it to your room later that night, a private room with an en-suite, which felt awfully fancy for Hogwarts, and settled in. Being back was an odd feeling, you could see the cracks in the stone everywhere you looked, there was pain everywhere, yet so much good to try and find.

To your complete relief, when you started your first day in the Greenhouses, things fell back into place with Neville instantly. At first, you'd greeted him with a hug, which had been awkward as he hadn't been expecting it, but very pleasant once he figured out what was going on. Soon after this though, as Professor Sprout set you her first task (to prepare some plants for her third years), things were back to as they were, perfect. You worked together well, talking and laughing easily, and though occasionally the chat went sour and the mood fell, this was happening with everyone lately, a byproduct of the war, there was so little to talk about that wasn't tarnished that it was a wonder the two of you were able to laugh as much as you were. Neither of the two girls from advanced Herbology were there, and although this initially saddened you both, you conceded that there could be many reasons for it. There weren’t many Slytherin returners, there never had been, but after the war especially, the turnout was pathetic. Most Slytherins avoided their peers after the war for fear of ostracism, which was fair as people had some pretty bad opinions on them but sad because there were several Slytherins who hadn’t been on the wrong side of history who were still facing hostility. 

The course was a lot of independent study of assigned texts and essay-writing, but all day on a Tuesday and half a day on a Thursday, the two of you were in the smaller greenhouse behind the ones for teaching, working on various projects, which also sometimes required your attention out of teaching hours. This greenhouse was set aside initially for research purposes at Sprout’s predecessor's request, but now was being used to train those in the higher education program. Despite this greenhouse being smaller than the two nearer the grounds, it was still fairly large and complex. Upon entering, you came into a little cloakroom, where you would have to don your aprons and gloves before entering, with a sink in the corner for washing up when leaving and entering. The next room was the main growing area, growing various plants that weren’t dangerous but were still perhaps best kept out of the reach of the younger students. There was a long wooden workbench in the middle of the room for potting and taking notes and whatever else you might need to do. Off of the opposite end of this room, there were three doors, one that led to a small room which was always kept humid and at tropical temperatures, one which was always kept cool and dry and one lockable room in which more dangerous plants were kept, such as venomous tentacula or fanged geraniums, only to be accessed with Professor Sprout supervising. 

Professor Sprout would only tutor the two of you on Thursday, so with the exception of the first few weeks, the two of you were entirely alone from 9 am to 4 pm on a Tuesday. Although it sounded a little salacious when you told friends, the truth was that most Tuesdays you were both too busy for anything to happen. Not that anything would of course, but certain assumptions were made when people heard you were alone together for hours with what they assumed was an easy subject. Mostly your days were full of tending to the plants, having to frequently refer to your notes for how each should be cared for (how much water? what temperature should the water be? do they require singing to?), observing any plants that were the subjects of your essays and preparing plants so they would be safe for lessons with younger year groups. 

It’s a Tuesday like any other. Neville is carefully planting some seeds across the workbench from where you’re delicately pruning a particularly active flitterbloom bush, setting the clippings aside to send to the potions department later. One of Neville’s research subjects is observing what methods of growth acceleration work the best and cause the least damage to the plants they’re applied to. He has been planting, growing and replanting dittany over and over for weeks now, but was still gathering more data as he came across more and more methods to test, and each had to be tested several times over to rule out external factors. 

Your research was on the merits and drawbacks of pruning, and which plants took best and worst to the practice. Pruning was useful as it allowed more ingredients to be obtained from individual plants for potioneering purposes, but generally was thought to be harmful to the overall health of the plant. You were attempting to write a definitive list of which of the 25 most common plants used in potions could be pruned and which couldn’t, which to your surprise had hardly been researched before as the belief of its harmfulness had permeated the field since 1870 and most Herbologists had steered clear of it since. Your research seemed to be proving it wasn’t nearly as harmful as thought.

The two of you chat idly as Neville uses a pipette to apply various growth potions to the soil of his newly planted seeds and you carefully measure the regrowth of a stem of the flitterbloom bush that you pruned a few weeks ago, struggling as the stem swayed about. 

“I can’t believe Hermione talked Ron and Harry into actually joining the course next term,” Neville hums, extracting exactly 5 millilitres of potion from a bottle with his pipette. You scoff. 

“For real this time? They keep saying that yet nothing ever comes of it,” you shake your head, scribbling down your measurement on the parchment beside you.

“Yes, really, two new rooms have appeared in the boys' dorms with their names on them, if Hogwarts knows, it must really be happening,” his tongue sticks out slightly between his teeth as he concentrates on dropping the liquid right in the middle of the little pot. Not wanting to throw his research, you wait until he’s done to reply.

“Perhaps Harry and Ron don’t even know it themselves,” you joke, making Neville chuckle. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the castle decided it for them,” he carefully pushes the cork back into the top of the potion bottle. “The castle is quite odd lately, perhaps it has whatever its equivalent of brain damage is from the war, it’s acting much more blatantly,”

“How so?” you tilt your head in his direction, soothing your finger over the agitated stem that you just had to hold taut for measuring. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories of people getting stuck in rooms with the people they like, doors literally disappearing until they confess or otherwise!”  Neville laughs, carefully moving his pots back to their designated spot on the windowsill. With his back turned, you can’t help but glance at the door despite yourself, wondering if it’s still there. It is. You quickly avert your eyes from the door as he turns back toward you. “It’s why there’s suddenly all these couples popping up, sure the castle has always been a little cheeky, but never so obvious before, it all started with the higher education wing appearing overnight and it’s seemingly been madness since,” he shakes his head, picking up another batch of pots containing little sprouts at various heights that he has to measure. 

“It’s sweet how many people have liked each other and not even known… has it always been people who like each other stuck together?” you ask, stroking your quill, feeling the soft tufts beneath your fingers. 

“As far as I’ve heard, each time it’s happened it’s ended well,” Neville shrugs, rifling through his bag for his measuring tape. You glance at the door again, seeing it still there. Unrequited, you figure, that door will stay right where it is. 

“I wonder where the brain of the castle is if it even has such a thing… it is sentient in some ways, so there must be an equivalent right?” you ponder as he loudly removes his books from his bag and thuds them onto the workbench. 

“The room of requirement? For some reason that comes to mind… a fire in your brain can’t be good,” he chuckles, his voice slightly strained as he peers under the table for the offending measuring tape.

“You can borrow mine,” you suggest softly as he comes up with nothing. 

“No it’s fine, you need it,” he waves his hand dismissively, standing up from his stool. “I’ll fetch mine from my room, I’m fairly certain I know exactly where it is on my desk, can’t believe I forgot it again,” he grumbles the last part to himself. “Be back in 15, watch my plants,” he smiles, although you can tell from his sheepish look that he’s embarrassed to have forgotten something yet again. Luckily, you could head back to fetch things at any time at your level, no longer having to ask to go to the toilet or anything like that. There was no one here to ask. You smile back, watching as he enters the cloakroom. A few moments later, you see his heavily blurred figure heading up the hill through the heavily rippled glass of the greenhouse windows. In the newfound quiet, you return to your work, hearing only the spray of simulated rain in the tropical growing room. 

Finally finished with the flitterbloom, you stand to retrieve your next plant, a valerian bush, for pruning. As you move to stand and step forward, you feel an odd pressure at your ankle. Stepping forward anyway, you realise too late that your foot is hooked on a support between the legs of your stool, sending both you and the stool off balance and toppling over toward the room-length counter that holds all the various plants. Reflexively, your body twists and your arms come up to shield your head as you thud loudly into the solid wood surface, causing a choir of wobbling pots, luckily with no ensuing crash of broken terracotta, you had to count your blessings somewhere. A dull pain throbs through your body, starting from the side that crashed against the counter. Thud! A yelp rips from you as the stool, still twined with your leg, falls onto your thigh. Luckily, it is only light and will leave a small bruise at most, your side colliding with the counter on the other hand…. You shut your eyes tight, feeling utterly embarrassed about what just happened despite being alone. You weren’t normally this clumsy and you were sure you looked a mess, an undignified heap on the floor, too shocked to stand up or even open your eyes yet. In the permeating silence, you sit on the cold stone floor and try not to cry, from the shock more than the pain. 

A violent sneeze overtakes your body, the action of it hurting your side. You sniff and cough, dust seemingly surrounding you. You must have jostled some old dusty plants that hadn’t been touched in a while when you collided with the surface. Surrendering to the coughs and sniffs that wracked through your pained body, you wait it out until the dust subsides, grabbing your bruised side as you double over with violent sneezes and sputters. Finally, a deep breath of clean air, you sag against the counter and try to gather yourself now you can breathe properly once more.

“It was exactly where I thought it was…” The door from the cloakroom creaks open in the silence as Neville enters, clutching his measuring tape. “I can be so scatterbrained,” he huffs, his eyes sweeping the room at the height he expects you to be. In embarrassment your eyes squeeze tighter, not wanting him to see the mess you’d gotten yourself into. Upon not seeing you, he glances around for any evidence you might be in one of the back rooms, though not thinking of a reason you would be. 

“Down here,” you squeak, your voice hoarse from coughing. The words itch your throat and you splutter slightly once more as he rounds the workbench and spots you on the ground. You give a sheepish smile, finally having opened your eyes. It’s painfully obvious from your stool-adorned leg what happened, you just hope he doesn’t think any less of you. He shouldn’t, he has a reputation for being clumsy himself, but you can’t help but worry. “I fell,” you rasp pathetically. 

“Are you alright?” he surges toward you and kneels, immediately examining your head for any bumps, rubbing over your scalp gently. The action makes your cheeks heat up, but you try to ignore it. 

“I’m okay, I landed on my side,” you reply as he carefully removes the stool from around your leg and stands it back up beside the workbench. His arms wrap around you and he carefully lifts you to stand, you yelp as the movement stretches your side and he shushes you gently. 

“It’s alright, there we go… just—,” he holds you steady until you’re stable on your feet. When he lets go of you, it feels oddly painful deep in your stomach, but you brush that off. 

“Thank you,” you whisper shyly. 

“Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?” he asks, bringing his hand up to feel your skull once more, worrying over whether you might have been badly injured. You lean slightly into his hand without meaning to.

“No I promise, it was just my side and my thigh,” you insist, inwardly wishing he’d brush his hand against those spots to check them. For a moment his hand moves like he might, but he stops himself. 

“If you’re sure,” he inspects you once more, hovering behind you as you sit back down on the stool, trying to brush past this whole incident. “Can I grab your plant for you?” he offers. “Which were you going for?” you want to complain, but his eyes are wide and earnest and you know he wants to help.

“The valerian… and could you pop the flitterbloom back for me?” you request, hesitantly testing the tender skin where the stool collided with your thigh, wincing at the throb of pain that followed your touch. Neville dutifully returns the flitterbloom to the counter, then places the valerian bush before you. Behind you, you hear him gently pushing some of the pots that had moved when you smashed into the counter back into place. You flush and keep your head down, pretending to inspect the valerian bush but not being able to focus. Your brain feels a little fogged up, you assume from the shock of the fall. Not wanting to alarm Neville in any way, you grab your tape measure and pretend to measure the leaf regrowth. He quietly moves around the workbench, bringing his pots over to your side of the bench and sitting down beside you to resume his work, his brows furrowed in concern for you. “Really, I’m okay,” you chuckle, but the weakness of your voice does little to reassure him.

“It’s better if I sit here, just in case something happens,” he says, more firmly than he usually says anything. That side of him was new since the war, this ability to stick up for himself in smaller situations. He’d always known how to stick up for the greater good, but little things like this, he would allow himself to be walked all over, too scared of losing a friend. Now that he has more confidence, he’s not so afraid to dispute his nearest and dearest, knowing you’re unlikely to end your friendship with him over this. And if you did, it would be weird and not his fault anyway. The tone of voice is also on the newer side and it stirs something in your belly.

You sit side by side working on your respective projects. Well, Neville is working, you’re more just going through the motions while your mind hovers elsewhere, not allowing you to focus on what you’re meant to be doing. Maybe you were concussed… but you hadn’t hit your head during the fall, so what was wrong? You take a few deep breaths, trying to slow your heart which still seems to be beating slightly fast. Slowly but surely, your body starts to feel a little warm. You glance to make sure the door to the tropical room hasn't opened as your cardigan starts to feel a little stuffy. No matter where you look in the room, you can’t find any source of excess heat. A puff of breath breaches your lips, you’re growing uncomfortable now, the heat only seems to rise and rise. With great unnecessary difficulty, you wrestle yourself free of your cardigan, throwing the wretched thing on the ground beside you with a grunt. Neville gives you a confused look, but not yet seeing anything obviously wrong with you, returns to his measurements. There is relief from the warmth that was engulfing you, but only for ten minutes at most, as soon you are sweltering once more. An awful voice at the back of your head tries to convince you to throw off all of your clothes, but you keep it together, merely squirming in your seat, rubbing your thighs together to try and quell the growing ache in your belly that your mind isn’t quite registering yet. In a last-ditch effort, you sip some water from your lukewarm water bottle, the relief it provides is even shorter than before. Your head whips around now, searching fruitlessly once more for the source of this despicable heat, but finds nothing. Neville is unfazed beside you, still wearing his sweater and looking perfectly comfortable. The only thing you can think of is that Neville must be radiating the heat, as nothing else could explain your sudden discomfort. You reach your hand out toward him, trying to gauge if it gets warmer the closer it gets to his side. This finally catches his attention and when he looks up, he’s met with your flushed clammy face and dilated pupils.

“Whoa! Is everything alright?” he sputtered, leaning back slightly as if worried you’re contagious. This upsets you and you let out an unseemly whine.

“I’m hot,” you huff, pushing your hair back from your face to get more cool air on your skin. “Really hot,” Neville’s eyes brush over you for a moment as he considers just how hot you are, before promptly snapping himself out of it.

“You do look a little… feverish,” he agrees, reaching out and touching the back of his hand to your forehead. You lean forward into the touch, moaning softly. Your skin is burning and slightly tacky with sweat, which makes Neville frown deeply. How could you have suddenly developed such a terrible fever? He pulls his hand back, but you immediately whine and claw at his arm to pull his hand back. Too baffled to protest, he lets you pull his hand to your cheek and watches you lean against it happily. He gently runs his thumb over your cheekbone before catching himself. “Are you alright?” he enquires once more, keeping his voice soothing.

“Don’t stop touching me,” you pout, looking up at him through your lashes with a look that is wholly inappropriate for an academic premises. He swallows.

“Wha-what?” he stammers, watching as you nuzzle against his hand.

“It helps the heat… don’t stop,” you whimper, reaching out to try and pull him closer by his sweater, but not being strong or focused enough to do it. This failure pulls another whine from you. Neville’s mind reels completely and he has to look away from you to compose himself, though he keeps your cheek cradled in his palm. What was going on with you? Were you ill? His eyes find the spot where he’d found you on the floor just earlier in his attempts to avoid the sultry unexplainable look you were giving him. “I need you to touch me,” you mewl, making him shiver.

“I’m not sure that’s–” he cuts himself off when his eyes land on the plant on the counter above where you fell. Lamprocapnos libidinosus, also known as the dripping heart, a magical relative of the bleeding heart flower in the muggle world. A common ingredient in lust potions and aphrodisiacs, highly dangerous in the wrong hands due to the potent amorous effects of its spores. Neville vaguely remembers Professor Sprout's warnings that one of the PhD students was being allowed to grow it for research and to steer completely clear of it. A warning he’s sure you would have headed if you hadn’t been tumbling toward it. Even from afar, he notices a couple of burst spore pods. “Oh no…” he mumbles to himself, dropping his hand from your cheek. You immediately protest but he stops you short. “When you fell… you didn’t happen to breathe in any dust, did you?” his voice shakes slightly, this cannot be happening to you. He always thought they shouldn’t have the plant growing in this greenhouse, even if only experienced herbologists were allowed in. Accidents happened as he knew all too well, and now his vague fears had become a biting reality.

“Yeah, why?” your voice is soft and sweet as you paw at him, trying to get him to hug you, or presumably something more. Neville flushes brightly and shoots upright, making a mad dash for his textbooks, still on the workbench from when he’d been searching through his bag. You wail at his absence, feeling the heat that had reduced to a low simmer return to a full boil. “Please…” you sob at him, not even knowing why you want what you want. “Just hold me, comfort me,” The look in your eye has him breaking, and if he remembers what little he’s read about the plant, you must be rather uncomfortable right now. He returns to your side and allows you to cling to his arm, bumping your head into his shoulder like a loving cat, while he frantically searches for the information he needs to help you. After several panicked flick-throughs, he locates the page.

Lamprocapnos libidinosus; also known as the Dripping Heart or the Flower of Lust.

At the top of the page is information entirely useless to this cause, the best season to plant, how much light is needed, etcetera, but finally Neville finds what he’s looking for under the ‘uses’ section. It’s tough to focus on reading when you’re practically trying to get under his sweater with him, pushing the knit material slightly up his side, your fingertips brushing his abdomen and making him jolt. He pushes your hand away but pulls you into a hug to silence your outcries, which you’re more than happy to sink into. He’s hugged you plenty of times so he pretends this is perfectly normal as he wills his brain to digest what's in front of him on the page. It’s hard to keep this pretending up as he can hear you sniffing him and moaning deeply at the smell of his shower gel, mixed with just a hint of sweat, which in this state only fuels your arousal, acting as a pheromone, worsening your need.

He skims the section frantically. Inhalation of the spores will lead to overwhelming feelings of lust even in small doses, however, the dose may affect who this lust is directed toward. Smaller doses will only worsen lust toward people already lusted after by the infected person, while larger doses will cause these feelings of lust to latch onto whoever is around, no matter prior relationships. The infected person will pursue their object of affection at any cost, they will be unable to focus on anything but the lust that has overtaken them. These feelings of lust, if left untreated, can cause extreme discomfort in the infected person, high fevers, intense symptoms of arousal (such as fluid secretions), shivers, brain fog and other symptoms varying by person and dose. The only way to cure the infected person of these symptoms and return them to full faculties is to have them reach climax.

It seems that you have chosen him as the object of your affections. Neville looks down at you as you hug him tight, continuously trying to slip your hand beneath his jumper. Out of selfish curiosity, he heads for the plant to try and determine how large of a dose you got and whether you may have already experienced feelings of lust toward him before the effects of the plant. When he moves away, you practically sob.

“Please don’t!” you wail, diving for him and into his arms once more. For now, you seemed to be mostly content just being held in his arms, and it’s clear you find it painful when separated from him for even a moment, so Neville has to relent. He delicately lifts you, and although having you wrap your legs around his hips hadn’t been a part of his plan, he supposes it does help keep you steady. He blushes brightly as he walks over to inspect the flower. He’s never held anyone like this, so intimately. Your skirt rides up where your legs wrap around him and he has to tear his eyes away before his thoughts become too inappropriate. You like the sight as much as he does. “You’re so strong,” you purr in his ear, your voice much lower than normal. He shivers and you feel it, the knowledge you’re having some effect on him overtakes your lust-addled brain. 

“Th-thank you, I’ve been exercising a lot since the war,” he mumbles, counting all the burst pods on the plant. He counts five, but he’s not sure if that’s considered a large dose or not. Probably, but the pods do look rather small.

“Mmm, it’s so hot…” you purr, trying to wriggle against him. Neville’s face turns red and he practically drops you, but holds you steady so you don’t fall once more once your feet touch the ground.

“Don’t say stuff like that!” he yelps.

“It’s true,” you pout. “I need you,” you try to hop up into his arms again but he holds you firmly on the ground, practically shaking. Really, this should’ve been a dream come true for him, he’d had feelings for you practically since the day the two of you met, but he felt disgusted with himself for every wave of excitement that passed over him. You were burning up, your cheeks brightly flushed, a deep ache at the pit of your belly and an ever-growing wetness in your underwear. All you could think about was how it might feel to have Neville soothing the fire inside you with deep strong thrusts, you moan aloud, if you focus enough you can almost feel it. “I bet you’re big, I bet you’d fill me up so well,” you murmur, looking up at him seductively.

“I- Merlin…” Now Neville feels overheated, he tries to push you away a little but you aren’t letting him. The image of filling you up won’t leave his head no matter how much he commands it to. It doesn’t help that you’re now trying your best to reach his jaw to kiss it. 

“Please…” you beg once more. “I need it so badly…” his resistance crumbles for a moment and his hands drop from your sides, allowing you to rush forward and attach your lips to his jaw. His eyes slip shut and he whimpers as you hold him close and lavish his neck and jaw with attention. His arms wrap around you, hands gently skimming your back as you continue to pepper him with kisses. “Please,” you whisper against his skin, your hand dropping to the buckle of his belt. The feeling of you tugging at his belt makes his eyes shoot open. He realises in a sudden flood of shame what he’s allowed you to do. You’ll hate him for this once you’re back to normal. He grabs your shoulders harshly and pushes you away. You squeak as he sits you on one of the stools, your eyes filling with tears at the rejection. You’d been so close to what you needed, and now with this newfound distance from him, you were in pain once more, a horrible throb in your stomach. 

“Listen to me,” he breathes shakily. “We can’t do this, you’ll regret it as soon as it’s over,”

“No, I–”

“You’re not in your right mind, you don’t know what you actually want,” he asserts again, reminding himself more than anything. He takes a deep breath and thinks. The only way to cure you according to the textbook was for you to reach climax. In colloquial stories about the plant, he’d always heard that orgasm would have to be reached with the help of another person, but the book didn’t stipulate this, maybe this was the answer. You could do it alone. His cheeks were flushed bright red as he opened his mouth once more. “What you need to do is… er… I’m going to take you into the cloakroom, alright?” he swallows, cautiously pulling you up from the stool onto your feet. You would need to sit somewhere to do this presumably and sitting on the stool or the workbench in here could lead to falling and disaster all over again. The best place he could think of was the bench in the cloakroom where people could sit to remove their shoes. You would have the wall to lean against and wouldn’t be sitting on the cold stone floor. Beneath you, he lays out a towel and then helps you to sit down on top of it. The towel was intended to make you more comfortable, but he considers with a blush that it might be necessary for other reasons also. He clears his throat. “Now, you have to… er… get yourself… uhm…” he can’t seem to make himself say the words. With a soft tug at his sleeve, you pull him to kneel between your legs, your faces nearly level given how much height he has on you. 

Before he can stop you, you kiss him. His brain stops functioning for a moment, all he can do is wrap his arms around you and kiss back, so intoxicated by the way your lips move against his. He didn’t have much experience with kissing, but there was no doubt this was the best kiss of his life. You moan against his mouth and it sets all his nerve-endings alight, making him push even closer to you in desperation. For you, the kiss is a sweet relief, cool water washing over your overheated body, but even so, you need more. There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs, a horrible feeling of emptiness that you know only Neville could fill. Trying to urge him on, you brush your tongue against his lips, hoping for entry. You’re allowed in for one tantalising moment before he pulls away with a start when your tongues graze against each other. The whine that rips from your throat is downright pathetic, but you don’t have the faculties to care at that moment. You look at him through your lashes, watching as he fights to regain his composure, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Never in his life has he felt as weak as in this moment, rendered so malleable by his desire for you. The two of you are friends. How will you react when you come back to normal and discover he let you kiss him in this state? That he’s allowed his selfishness to get in the way of what’s right? He jumps to his feet, ignoring your cries and protests as much as it pains him to do so.

“Look, the textbook says that the only way to cure you of this is… a uh… a climax,” he blushes and chokes on the words slightly. “I’m going to keep watch outside that nobody comes in, all you have to do is… you know…”

“Get myself off?” you supply in a sultry voice. 

“Yes, exactly,” he clears his throat, turning to leave you alone.

“Nev, please… I need your help… I don’t want to do it alone,” you plead, your voice soft and needy.  

“No, you can do it alo– oh… wow,” he exhales heavily as his eyes reach you once more. In an effort to persuade him, you’d pulled up the hem of your skirt and spread your legs, revealing your thighs and your soaked panties to him. The cold air makes you shiver but doesn’t actually cool you down in the slightest. It takes a great deal of strength to keep Neville from lunging himself at you. You look positively delicious, the wetness of your panties allowing him an outline of your most intimate areas, the skin of your thighs soft and plump and enticing. If he was even a slightly feebler man, he’d already be on his knees, devouring you through the thin, damp fabric. Just imagining how you might taste has him weak in the knees. “Oh Merlin…” he breathes, feeling his erection, which has been slightly present for the last half-hour or so, straining painfully against the zip of his jeans. The needy seductive look on your face almost breaks him, he takes a step toward you, causing you to light up, before he stops himself and just stares. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, unable to help himself. He watches you squirm in response. 

“Please, I need you,” you beg, unbuttoning your shirt as he observes. The garment falls to the ground, leaving you in your plain bra. Neville doesn’t seem to mind how simple the garment is in the slightest, his breath hitching as you reveal yourself.

“I really shouldn’t” he tries again, but he cannot rip his eyes from your body.

“I can’t do it alone, I feel so empty,” you whimper, spreading your legs further. “Please, fill me, I need your cock,” Neville nearly faints at those words, at the pleading way you say them, at how desired you’re making him feel. His legs carry him forward before his brain can catch up and he sits beside you on the bench. His brain finally does catch up just in time to stop you from sitting in his lap.

“Maybe I can help a little, but we can’t… I can’t uh… I can’t ‘fill’ you,” he gives in, despite knowing he probably shouldn’t. He had heard many times that another person was needed to reverse the effects of the Dripping Heart, so it was likely he did have to help, given the fact you hardly seemed satisfied with the idea of getting off alone. He could still be as much of a gentleman about it as possible. He knew the both of you had limited sexual experience, he himself was a virgin and though he wasn’t sure about you, he would guess you were in the same boat or had only had one partner before. With both of you having so little experience, he didn’t want to go all the way, as for you it would likely be regrettable. You plead with him softly, trying to climb into his lap still, despite his strong arms holding you at bay. Each plea weakens his resolve and he knows you know it because you’re babbling now.

“Please, please Nev, I need you inside me, to fuck me, I’ve never needed anything so badly, please, I know you want me too,” he deserved a medal for being able to resist you for this long, most other boys would have given in the second the girl of their dreams said something even remotely flirty, but he was somehow just barely resisting your pleas to have sex with him.

“Sit down,” he implores you, and you quickly obey, batting your lashes at him. “I’m going to help you, okay? But you need to stay still and just… take what I give you, don’t ask for more, okay?” These words seem to excite you, you squirm and nod, eagerly allowing him to spread your legs. His shaking hand rests on your bare thigh for a moment as he takes a few composing breaths. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do, it was something he had dreamed of incessantly, but now it felt like it could ruin his life if he wasn’t careful. You tug softly at his arm, trying to get his hand where you want it, bucking against the air.

“Please…” you sob, clenching around nothing as you look at his large hand against your thigh. He shushes you gently.

“I’m about to, just give me a second,” he stammers, trying to sort through his brain for any information he has on how to do this. He averts his eyes, figuring you wouldn’t have wanted him to see you so intimately, even if the damp fabric of your panties had already given him a pretty good look. Slowly, he places his hand on the apex of your thigh, shivering at the damp warmth he can feel radiating from your core. You mewl. Despite the pain in his neck from the position, he keeps his eyes locked on the wall behind you, pointedly ignoring how arousing the sounds you made were. Gathering his courage, he carefully slips the tips of his fingers past the fabric of your underwear and groans aloud at how wet you are. Your nectar gathers on his fingers and for a moment he just gently swipes them up and down to gather as much as possible, hearing your desperate moans as you lean your head on his shoulder. He never knew a woman could be this wet, and sure perhaps the flower was exacerbating it, but the thought still had him unendingly aroused. The angle wasn’t quite right, so he removed his hand, whining in unison with you at the separation. Your essence dripping down his fingers was like a siren song, trying to lure him to lick his fingers clean and finally get a taste of you. How could he ever explain that to you later? To his infinite regret, he doesn’t bring them to his mouth, sliding his hand into your panties once more, now from the top. This angle works a lot better, your hips immediately buck as his fingers slide over your clit.

“There, please, right there,” you beg, and he’s glad for the advice. A little unsure but determined (no point backing out now, at least he might be able to cure you), he relocates the spot that makes you shiver and whine. Your reaction tells you exactly when he’s found the little bundle of nerves once more and he takes a deep breath, before gently beginning to circle his fingers around it. It’s something he remembers hearing in the common room, and it seems it was good advice as soon you’re panting in his ear like a dog in heat, mewling his name softly. He can’t believe the noises you’re making, the sinful way you’re saying his name, it’s like perfect torture, it takes a lot out of him not to look. “Yes, fuck… Nev…” you whine, feeling the syrupy pleasure coursing through your body. “Yes, yes! More!” 

“More?” he croaks, unsure what you mean by that. As a guess, he tries circling faster, and though you definitely seem to like it, your hips canting up into his touch, he can feel you shaking your head against his shoulder.

“Need you inside,” you cry, making his cock twitch in his jeans.

“We- we can’t do- that,” he stutters, although he’s never wanted to more in his life. He wholeheartedly agrees with your pained sob in response, but he knows it’s for the best. “How about… er… my fingers? Inside?” he gulps, flustered that he’s even in a situation where he can ask such a thing. 

“O-okay,” you whimper. Neville fumbles around for a moment, trying to figure out where to put his fingers. It would be much easier if he could see what he was doing, but he’s already decided he shouldn’t. The fact that he touched you will no doubt be mortifying enough once you’re back to normal. With a little guidance from you, he very slowly and cautiously presses two fingers into you, making you gasp in pleasure. You’re wet and warm and tight around his fingers and he practically drools imagining how you might feel around his cock, almost cumming on the spot just thinking about it. Merlin, he was such a pathetic virgin, maybe he should be taking the chance and losing his virginity now, but it just doesn’t feel right when he doesn’t know how you’ll feel about it afterwards. He presses his forehead to the cool wall to calm himself down and prevent him from looking at how you took his fingers in, withdrawing them just slightly and then pressing them back in. The sound that comes from you makes Neville’s heart skip, so lewd and sinful and full of ecstasy. He wants desperately to kiss you, but he knows he shouldn’t. 

At your renewed pleading, he starts up a steady pace, thrusting his fingers in and out the way he wished he could with his cock, feeling filthy for even thinking it. The wet sound that each thrust made, accompanied by your wanton moans makes him feel like he’s the one who has been infected by the flower, so crazed with desire. Could there have been some pollen on you that he inhaled when he helped you up? It didn’t seem impossible, but he was also a young man, they weren’t exactly notorious for being level-headed when it came to sex. You lean heavily against him, gasping against his shoulder at each press of his fingers, the coil in your belly twisting tighter than it ever had before. You mumble incoherent pleas and he simply shushes you, not trusting himself not to give in to you if you keep talking. 

“Thumb,” you breathe between vulgar moans and though it takes his sluggish brain a moment, he realises what you want. He presses his fingers deeper, fumbling a moment before his thumb grazes your sensitive bud, making you sob in pleasure. His large deft hand pleasures you like it was made for it, all you can think of is the bliss he’s giving you as he hits all the right spots over and over. Your hand flies up, nails digging into his arm as you realise you’re dangerously close to exploding, despite the bite of your nails, he doesn’t let up his pace, too addicted to the sound of your moans to slow down now. “Nev… I’m–” you cut yourself off with a shout, pleasure shooting through your body like you were struck by lighting. Your muscles tense and tremble, your eyes rolling back in your skull, walls contracting around his fingers hard. The pleasure goes through you in strong waves, drowning you in it, not allowing you respite from shivers and moans for even a second as it wracks through you. You’d never felt anything so intense and all-consuming before. Neville feels your essence gush onto his fingers and though he should be relieved it’s over, he finds himself disappointed that he has to stop doing this, hearing those bewitching sounds. Gently, he removes his hand from you and guides your skirt back down your thighs so he can finally look toward you again. His fingers are covered in your essence, creamy and mouth-watering, the only thing that’s able to stop him from having a taste is your hand still clinging to his arm. He waits for you to gather your breath, silently smug he was able to help, but also petrified of what happens next. 

“Are you alright?” he asks delicately, shifting his erection away from your back now that you might actually register it. You open your eyes and look up at him, which immediately makes him frown. Your pupils are still almost comically dilated, your cheeks still pink and clammy, and though it could just be from the aftermath of your orgasm, he immediately knows something is still wrong.

“I feel better… but not entirely,” you whisper and Neville bites his lip. Great. He stands to wash his hands in the sink, and during that brief period of absence, he watches you become consumed by the effects of the flower again, pleading for him to come back. He splashes water on his face and takes a deep breath. You had reached climax, he may not be an expert in female orgasms but he knew what he just saw and felt, so what was wrong? Was the plant in the greenhouse genetically modified in some way? Would he have to call Professor Sprout to ask for help? How exactly could he explain that he’d already given you an orgasm and it hadn’t worked? Looking back, he should have taken you to Madam Pomfrey the second he’d realised what had happened to you, but he thought you would have found it too embarrassing. Now things would be infinitely more embarrassing for the both of you if you sought out help. Lesson learned, just because he’d survived a war it didn’t mean he could deal with anything life threw at him alone. He feels you approaching from behind and turns around, allowing you to sink into his arms. “Stay with me,” you plead, holding him close.

“Okay,” he sighs, because what else can he do now? “I’m here,” He caresses your bare back and tries to forget what he just did to you, but he can’t. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, kissing your forehead without thinking. “I’ve made a mess of things, we did all that and you’re not even cured,”

“Why won’t you fuck me?” you whimper. Your boldness doesn’t even surprise him anymore.

“Because it’s not what you really want, you’d never forgive me once things got back to normal, I was just the only person around for the pollen to latch onto,”

“But that’s what the pollen wants, maybe that’s the only way to cure it, I don’t just want an orgasm, I want you inside me,” you suggest. He’s glad you’re slightly more lucid from the relief of your climax, but you’re still not entirely yourself, your voice slow and sluggish like wading through water when trying to formulate logical thoughts. He can’t deny the way his cock, which had softened slightly, was coming back to life at your words. “Please…” you nuzzle against his chest. “I promise you, I want this even when I’m not… whatever I am right now,” you chuckle. He sighs. He doesn’t quite believe you but he’s running out of ideas of what to do, and your friendship is presumably ruined anyway. Maybe he’s making excuses for himself, but it feels more and more like there’s only one thing for it. He prays you’ll remember how much you begged and how hard he tried to be a gentleman and not hate him, even if you avoid him for the rest of your life after this. “I need you,” you whisper and he gives in.

“Forgive me for this,” he pleads, before lifting you into his arms and moving back over to the bench, sitting down and letting you straddle his lap. You smile at him softly, fluttering your lashes. At least the orgasm before made you a little calmer and more agreeable. If nothing else, if he gets you to orgasm again, you might be even closer to normal. He pulls you to his chest taking a moment to embrace you for what he worries may be the last time. You nuzzle into him eagerly. “I’m a virgin, you know?” he mumbles into your shoulder, not knowing why he feels the need to say it. Those words seem to embolden you, you paw at his chest.

“I promise it’ll be good, please…” you purr. He wonders how you might have reacted if you were your regular self. Would you have found it sweet? Would you have pitied him? You probably knew, everyone knew, but you never mentioned it to him. He allows you to pull off his sweater, lifting his arms and watching you discard it across the room. When you lean in to kiss him, he doesn’t even pretend to put up a fight, holding the back of your neck and kissing you back, pouring all his unspoken feelings into it. He tries to keep it slow and gentle, but you’re far too eager, and the heat starts mounting fast. He pushes away all his doubts, telling himself he can enjoy this, or else it would be even more of a waste. The t-shirt that was under his sweater is next to go, as he pulls away to allow you to rid him of it, he studies your face, still flushed and feverish, but so beautiful, full of lust. His hands fall, one to your waist and the other to your cheek, pulling you back in, pressing his lips to yours and sliding his tongue between them. You moan against his mouth, whimpering a soft sound, a thank you or a plea for more, it’s unclear. He groans back in agreement with whatever it was you intended to say. Your tongues languidly swirl together, caressing one another affectionately. Feeling your warm hands on his bare chest makes him shiver, feeling as you explore the newfound definition of his abdomen, only light, but still a change. In turn, he presses a few kisses to your chest, shakily reaching up to rid you of your bra. It falls away and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare breasts, his breath hitching. He could have never hoped he could see you like this, could have never hoped for any of this, and yet here you were, whining and guiding his hands under your skirt. He runs his hands up and down your thighs as he kisses and sucks at the supple skin of your breasts, giving himself some time to enjoy this despite your hurry. Under different circumstances, he would have liked to have left a mark and asked you to give him one in return, but he knew this was crossing a line as if a million lines hadn’t already been crossed today. At this thought he changes his mind and sucks a tiny mark into the centre of your chest that he’s sure will fade in a few hours, staring at the light pink mark a little wistfully. “Need you inside…” you whine, despite enjoying his affection. There’d be time for that later, but right now it felt completely imperative for him to be inside of you, fearing you might explode if he didn’t give you what you wanted.

“Alright, I get it,” he sighs, placing a few more lingering kisses on the swell of your breasts. Your hands find his belt buckle and without him stopping you this time, they make quick work of it. There’s an awkward shuffle as he helps you lower his jeans around his ankles, but once you’ve settled back in his lap, you take in the sight before you. He looks big even through his boxers, just like you predicted, thick and slightly longer than average. Just the thought of him inside you makes you moan and claw off your skirt with no regard for whether it survives the encounter. Neville’s overheated back presses against the cool wall as he leans back to watch you. He doesn’t bother feeling insecure, as you look like you’ve struck gold as you drool over his length, he supposes in this state you would have been happy with anything. His hands slide up and down your sides, being gentle, taking in the sight of your body, so perfect. He wishes in the back of his mind that this won’t be the last time he sees it, but hope feels too dangerous given the circumstances. He helps you slide your panties down, groaning softly as he spots a string of arousal fluid connecting you and the fabric for a while. You want him so badly. His boxers soon follow and he hisses loudly as your hand wraps around his length. “Oh Merlin…” he whimpers, bucking his hips into your hand. “Fuck, I need you,” he parrots. The ghost of a smile crosses your face as you recognise the words as your own.

“You have me,” you whisper, shifting your hips so you’re above his cock, holding him steady as he twitches. Deep brown hooded eyes stare into yours, he can’t believe his luck. Unable to wait any longer, you sink down onto him. Neville’s eyes squeeze shut in pleasure and he grabs your hips to slow you. You feel perfect around him, warm and silky and inviting, engulfing his whole being in sickly-sweet pleasure. He pulls you close, embracing you as you moan in his ear. Slowly, he lowers you down the rest of the way until your hips are flush with his. For a moment, he simply hugs you and kisses your neck. 

“Feels so good,” he pants in your ear. “So good,”

“You fill me perfectly,” you whine, squirming in his lap for friction. “So big…”

“Yeah?” he coughs, trying to sound smooth but failing, causing him to chuckle nervously. “I won’t last, I’m sorry,” he rubs his hands up and down your spine. “I wish this could last forever,” He lets go of you and leans back against the wall, his hands settling on your hips, taking a moment to admire the sight of you on top of him, him inside you. You feel him twitch within you. “Take what you want, love,” he encourages you to move. There’s no point in him trying to remain in control, all he cares about is that you reach climax, he’s bound to anyway. The nickname makes you even needier somehow, the way his voice is deep with desire. Your hands find his shoulders for purchase, eyes meeting for a moment. You’re both flushed and blissful and the look in his dark eyes shoots a jolt through you. He’s always been attractive, but to see him like this, vulnerable, needy, chest-heaving, it was something else. On his advice, you begin lifting yourself up and lowering yourself down onto his cock, moaning unabashedly with each motion. He stretches you open in the most delicious way, exactly how you’d been picturing all day, or for several years really, perfectly endowed. He relaxes and closes his eyes, groaning and whimpering as you move. Every rock of your hips stokes the flames in the both of you, sending you both toward a common end faster than you regularly might. 

“Thank you,” you purr between moans. “I’ve needed this so bad,” 

“I know,” he chokes out with a tired smile. “I’ve needed it too,” he gently massages the fat of your rear as you ride him, watching in bliss as he disappears inside of you over and over. Your moans rise to a fever pitch, your pace faltering slightly as your climax approaches.

“Yes! Yes!” you practically scream, all your senses heightened as you slam your hips down against him. His face scrunches up in pleasure.

“I’m going to– Ahh!” he grunts, body trembling as he releases thick ropes inside of you, whining with the aftershocks as you continue using him to chase your high. It’s so close, you can’t give up now. Neville’s hands weave into your hair, pulling your face down to his to kiss you. Your tongues meet messily as you struggle to focus on the kiss, preoccupied with your orgasm that is on the tip of your tongue. Heat pools strongly in your abdomen, and you feel the familiar ecstasy of the coil snapping in your belly. Your movement immediately ceases, walls spasming around his length as you moan loudly into his mouth, grabbing him and holding him as close as possible. Your vision whites and your brain goes blank, your whole body twitching violently. He tries his best to soothe you through it, but the pleasure isn’t allowing a single thought to form in your mind for several moments. Finally, your muscles relax and you collapse against him heavily, chest heaving with effort, skin slick with sweat. You vaguely register him removing himself from you and wiping you with a towel, but the corners of your mind are fuzzy and you just cuddle closer to him. You sit in silence for a long while and you nearly fall asleep against his shoulder when he speaks up. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you hum. He tilts your chin up towards him.

“Open your eyes, love,” he implores softly, to which you flutter them open. He sighs a great sigh of relief, seeing your pupils shrink as they react to the light, dilated now a regular amount, and the flush on your cheeks is much less than before. “Do you still need me?” he asks.

“Don’t go,” you panic, holding him closer, but then you realise what he means. “Oh… no, all I want is to maybe have a nap,”

“Thank Merlin, I couldn’t have gone for another round,” he jokes stiltedly. You giggle, cuddling closer once more. “You don’t hate me then?” he mumbles, as if worried he will have reminded you to hate him, gently pushing some hair from your face. 

“No, you… saved me,” you shrug.

“Saved seems dramatic,”

“Well, who knows what would have happened to me if you’d just run away and left me alone? You didn’t have to do what you did, but you did it for me,” you lean up to kiss his cheek. “You gave yourself to me completely, just to save me from discomfort,”

“Trust me, it was my pleasure,” he laughs nervously and you gently swat his chest. “I’d do anything for you,” he whispers, kissing your forehead with a barely contained tenderness.

“Yeah, you’ve proved that,” you grin, kissing his cheek again. “And I for you,”

“You’d have had sex with me if I’d been the one to bump into the plant?” he prompts, sliding his hand up your bare side affectionately. 

“Of course, I’d have done it way sooner too, not wasted time being a ‘gentleman’,” you tease. “Thank you for that though, it was sweet of you, even if it was unnecessary because I don’t regret it one bit,” you promise him, kissing his lips tenderly. He embraces you tighter for a moment and then loosens his grip. 

“We should probably leave, I bet it's past teaching hours now,” he sighs before helping you up and to dress. Your panties are well and truly ruined, so you’re forced to go commando under your skirt. Neville wraps his sweater around your hips to help prevent it from flipping up as you walk through the grounds back to the dorms. He finds it difficult to dress himself as you keep eagerly kissing him, but finally get himself presentable, only to be pulled into another kiss. It’s not desperate or lustful like before, more playful and excited, and he’s happy to accept them. “I take it you like me,” he chuckles as you hug him tight, his arms around you in return.

“Loads,” you sigh into his t-shirt.

“I do too,”

“My room? I promise we can just cuddle and sleep,” you suggest, smiling up at him.

“Hey, give me a few hours, I might be raring to go again,” he jokes.

“Well then definitely my room so I can help you out, I owe you one, don’t I?” you giggle and wink. He blushes slightly and shakes his head. 

“That plant has made a monster, come on,” he takes your hand in his. “Let’s go before someone notices and starts asking questions,” he opens the door into the greenhouse, accio-ing both of your bags over, as well as the open textbook from the workbench. “Stupid inaccurate thing,” he grumbles, stuffing it in his bag. You merely giggle at his frustration. As you turn to leave, you’re met with a gleam of magic, the door to the outside of the greenhouse rematerialising. The two of you exchange a look, neither of you had realised the door was even missing amidst the whole debacle, but it must have been, or else it couldn’t have reappeared. Hogwarts had forced the two of you together, it was likely your fall hadn’t even been organic in the first place. You knew you weren’t usually so uncoordinated.

“Huh,” Neville blinks, checking that the door now works, wondering when exactly it disappeared and how he had missed it. You scoff and shake your head in disbelief before the both of you laugh earnestly.

“Hogwarts is a total perv,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[cellophanejpeg]

hold me down (and make me scream) | s. hanta

s: Sero wants to explore his quirk in bed. Or: the one he convices you to let him tied you up and use you however he wants.

w: bondage, kinky shit, use of vibrators, overstimulation, smut, sero is the king of aftercare, this is my kinkiest yet lol

n: hehe, tape quirk comes in handy. betaread by @jemifis ❤️ read on ao3

previous | next | start here

There's a package waiting for you on your door when you get home. Usually, you'd be suspicious of something like that. Being a well-known pro-hero has its disadvantages, such as people who don't like you and that would do anything so you disappear. However, it intrigues you.

The box has your name and your address on it, and it's from Amazon. You try to remember if you ordered something and forgot about it, but nothing comes to mind. You quickly pick it up, enter your apartment and go to the kitchen to get some scissors to open it up.

There's another box inside, covered in silver wrapping, the standard Amazon one. So someone bought you a gift from the site. Not a big deal. Impatient, you tear the paper and quickly open the box.

The contents of the box make your eyes widen in shock, a gasp leaving your lips as you cover your mouth in disbelief. Inside, there are several different vibrators of assorted colors and types. Your first thought is that some internet troll had pulled a prank on you, but then again, how did they get your personal address? Fanmail and letters are always sent to the hero agency you work at – not that you get many, anyway.

A card in the box catches your eye and, curious, you flip it over to read it:

Remember your promise, angel. – S.

Immediately, you grab your phone and look for Sero’s contact.

“Hey, angel–” he picks up after three rings.

“Hanta, what the fuck?!” you interrupt him, and he just laughs. You can practically picture his stupid grin as the sound comes through the receiver.

“So you got my little gift.”

“Little is an understatement.”

He scoffs, “Just thought we could have some fun tonight. You, me, some toys, and…”

“And?”

“Some tape.”

You pause, and Sero can practically hear the gears turning inside your head.

Truth is, he never actually thought about tape bondage until he was guts deep inside you, making you promise you'd let him do it. And he wasn't going to insist on the subject, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to try it. This agreement between you and him has only been about you – with the exception of that one time you went down on him –, so is it wrong for him to have a little fun?

“You mean…?” You trail off, unable to even voice it.

“Yeah.” You can hear him breathe out through the receiver. He really wants this, doesn't he?

You've never given it any thought, but the image of you tied up as he does whatever he wants with you… It kinda turns you on. Knowing he'd never hurt you, you don't see why not.

Sensing your hesitation, Sero speaks before you can answer,

“Why don't you test some toys first? Then let me know.”

“A-alright,” you reply, after another moment of silence.

“You should try the rose one. Mina said it was the best one.”

“You told Mina Ashido about this?!”

“Relax!” He laughs. “I just asked about some toys, didn't mention you at all.”

“Gosh, you're so embarrassing.” You roll your eyes, but also laugh with him.

…

“Is it too tight?” Sero murmurs in your ear as he wipes a drop of sweat from your forehead.

You’re laying down on the bed, legs spread wide, and ankles tied to your thighs, while your hands are secured together on the bedpost above you. You feel so vulnerable, so helpless, and it turns you on how he’s the only one who sees you like this.

“Hanta…” you whine, sweat dripping down your temples.

Turns out Sero was right – not that you’ll ever admit it to him –, the toys were amazing. It didn’t take long for you to agree to his proposal, but you did make him work for it. You were already convinced when he tried to talk you into it, showing positions you’d might like and ways to make you come while tied up. When you said yes, he let you choose the position you liked the most and that’s where you are right now.

The tape digs a little on your skin, but it doesn’t hurt as much as being denied yet another orgasm. You think your best friend is a little sadist, with the way he presses the vibrator with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. He also knows you a little too well, now that you think about it. You don’t even have to tell him you’re about to come, he just knows. He just won't let you.

“Yes, Angel?” he grins maliciously, swiping his thumb on your sensitive clit. You whimper, closing your eyes and throwing your head back on the pillow.

“Please…”

“Please what, baby?” Sero pushes two fingers inside you. You're so wet that they slide in easily, making embarrassing sounds.

“Please,” you whine again, breathing heavily.

“Use your words.” He teases, pressing the vibrator against you again. You groan, toes curling tightly, hands closed in fists so tight you almost draw blood from the palms of your hands.

It just feels so good when he's curling his fingers inside you, hitting that spot you'd never thought it was reachable with just his fingers. And when the vibrator puts pressure on your clit, it's heaven.

If only he'd let you have your orgasm.

“Please let me come,” you finally plead, once he denies you again, “please, please, please let me come, Hanta, I'd do anything!”

Sero laughs, pulling his fingers out of you and setting the vibrator’s intensity up, 

“What's our safe word again?” He asks, taking his time to walk around the bed until he lies beside you, leaning his head on his hand, supported by his elbow.

“T-tape dispenser.”

“Good girl.”

Sero then presses the toy once more against your clit, applying more pressure this time. A moan escapes your lips as your legs tremble; you feel another orgasm building in your lower stomach, but this time, Sero doesn't immediately remove the vibrator from you. He lets you come, watching as you roll your eyes back, and let you an almost guttural whine.

You don't come off your high, because he pressed the toy even further against you, having you twitch and tremble as yet another orgasm rushes through you, with no warning.

“H-Hanta–” you try to speak, but the way the vibrations send sparkles throughout your entire body has you losing your breath.

“You wanted to cum, didn't you?” he says, leaning towards you to lick a stray tear that slips down your temple. Then, he whispers in your ear, “use the safe word, if it's too much.”

You think you black out for a second between your third and forth orgasm, the safe word on the tip of your tongue, but you endure it. You want to believe you can take it, but the tears streaming down your face tell otherwise.

“Can you take one more, angel?” Sero coos in your ear, using his free hand to pet your head. You nod as you feel another wave of pleasure building inside you.

It takes everything in you to hold it in, but you eventually let go and then everything goes black for a moment.

“You okay?” he asks, turning the vibrator off and using the nail of his index finger to rip the tape bonding your hands.

You murmur something even you don’t understand while Sero grabs a bottle of massage oil to remove the tapes off you. Maybe you black out, because next thing you know, you’re being carried in his arms and gently being lowered down to a bathtub filled with warm water. You hum, leaning your back on his chest when he slips in the tub behind you.

For a moment, you both soak in silence. Sero hugs your torso, rubbing his thumbs on the skin of your waist, and leans his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling his nose on your hair. Slowly, you come down from your high and recover your senses.

“I don’t think I’ll ever come again,” you break the silence, making him laugh.

“Only one way to find out.” He slips his hand down, with the intention of touching your clit again, but you slap him away.

“Not right now!” You cry out, as he laughs louder.

“How did you like it?”

“It was fun. Maybe a bit too much,” you admit, “but I liked it.”

“Next time, don’t be afraid to use the safe word.”

You pull away to look at him, “you seem oddly experienced at this.”

Sero gives you one of his shit eating grins, but you can see a faint shade of pink on his cheekbones. “I did my homework.”

You hum, leaning onto him again and sighing. The silence takes over again and with it comes the overthinking.

“We’re still friends, right?” You say, before you can stop yourself.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” His voice sounds sleepy now.

You shrug. “‘Cause we’re doing all this crazy shit.”

“We can have sex and still be friends, right?”

Can you? Can you keep doing this knowing he doesn’t feel the same as you? Is it really just sex when every time you’re with him, you feel like heaven?

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, swallowing down all these questions.

Because you don’t think you’ll like the answers.

@lousypotatoes @ibby-miyoshi-nerd

[kneelingshadowsalome]

König is, obviously, a big little freak. Do you think he'd feel flattered/lovestruck if a cute girl stalked and was obsessed with him or would he be weirded out? I think the first: for once he gets pussy and love without having to do anything. Also it'd be kinda funny if he didn't even notice his little admirer at first cause she doesn't register as a threat and he's too busy being broody and depressed cause he's so alone (while reader is in her apartment fantasizing about their future kids and drawing little hearts on a pic of him)

Ohhh yes. König being oblivious af, thinks this is simply a joke.

It started out in school: cute little postcards that had bunnies or kittens or flowers or hearts on them, delivered to him by his mom who was smirking about how her boy had a secret admirer. There was nothing fancy scribbled on the other side, just soft, silly messages like: "I like you!" or "Your cute" or "Luv u ♡", and König saved them all.

…Until he showed the postcards to the wrong “friends”, who only made fun of them. One of the boys told him they sent those cards to him as a joke because no girl could ever want him, and König believed them. Allowed himself one, maybe two tears in solitude before he threw those cards away.

What was odd, though, was that the cards still kept coming. He always threw them in the trash, and at some point while growing up, they stopped arriving. No cats or hearts or cute mice illustrations for him anymore, just loads of video games and internet and a growing interest in war history and gym.

He didn’t think much of it after the age of 17, just went to the army to make a man out of himself. Got laid for the first time, got bullied some more, grew some muscle and grew some balls. Got kicked out of sniper training, his one and only dream, and went back home to brood for a few weeks.

That’s when he received the letter.

A 5 page love letter, written in beautiful, whimsical handwriting, smelling of something so angelic that it drove even the eternal stench of gunpowder and rust and military storage away.

König gets plunged into a whole world of soft feminine attention without even asking to, the letter now placed on his old desk that’s too small for him to sit at anymore. The fragrant sheets of paper are filled with confessions of adoration and love and… it would be a little bit creepy, were he a man who fancied so-called normal women.

He goes to the attic, searching his old cardboard boxes for the postcards to compare the handwriting, but can’t find none, remembering that yeah… he threw all of them away, didn’t he? The handwriting wouldn’t match anyway, that much he can remember, but then again it was a kid who wrote to him back then. Now, his admirer is a grown woman who apparently got back on her obsession train once he visited his childhood home after years of living abroad.

The hair on his shins, arms and at the back of his neck shoots up as he realizes some woman has a crush on him, some cute girl has been watching him since day one. Those postcards weren’t a joke, so she must have gone to the same school as him… She might be the daughter of some of their neighbors, living right next to him even now.

König goes door to door in search of her, but only wrinkly elders arrive to tell him that no, they never had a daughter or granddaughter or if they had, they have long since moved out to some big city.

He goes through the letter once again but finds no clues to who she is or where she lives. It’s just pages and pages of flattery about how he’s still the man of her dreams and so much more. How he’s even cuter now that he looks like someone pissed in his cereal. She wonders if he’s built the same everywhere, and if he is, then she should say her evening prayers… Too many impure thoughts going through her head already, why does he have to be so handsome?

König is in hell, as always, desperately trying to look for his admirer when he goes out to take the trash. Visions of some girl touching herself at the thoughts of him pester him from sunrise to sunset, and he has to take a cold shower every morning simply because one wank doesn’t seem to be enough to tame the big fellow downstairs.

He hugs his pillow and dreams of his girl, someone sweet to wrap his arms around and to protect. He fantasizes of someone cute waiting for him, someone he could surprise every time he gets home, someone adorable to eat out until they sob and squirm. Until he gets the stench of death out of his mouth…

A message arrives on his phone from an unknown number, and at first he thinks it’s spam.

But when he opens the message, he’s met with two perfect bare breasts. So fucking cute, especially when they’re accompanied by a set of fingertips grazing her soft skin; König even notices she has red nail polish on. So adorably, incredibly cute…

There comes a text that says: “I thought of sending you another postcard, big boy… But perhaps you don't care for kittens anymore. Hopefully this will do? ❤️”

There’s no face reveal, just tits and a cute female hand laid out there before him. Just a text that confirms that she’s the one. Typing a quick reply, he sends it to the unknown number: “This will more than just do 😳❤️❤️❤️”

Without thinking, like, at all, he pulls out his already hard cock and takes a hurried picture of it with a trembling hand. He usually knows better than to send a dick pic to a girl, especially after exchanging less than two sentences with them. But hey, she started this. The least he can do is give her something to pray about (and for)..

So he sends that horrid picture of his ugly cock to his cute mystery girl before she can even type a reply to the first message, and asks: “Are we praying tonight, my lady?”

[sutorus]

BUY ONE GET ONE FREE

DESCRIPTION: gojo satoru and geto suguru are the jewels of your university. glued at the hip, you have your eyes set on one of the best friends, but you should already know to expect double the trouble with this packaged deal.

PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader

WC: 3.8k

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, some derogatory terms like s!ut :c), university!au, frat!au, characters are in their 20s, oral (fem receiving), gojo is a douche (sorry!) with a soft spot for you, gojo and geto are both taller than reader, gojo wants you sooo bad you don’t even know, dubcon if you squint, annoyances to… something else!, implied 3sum but that’s for part 2 ig bc i got tired. enjoy!

A/N: first fic here yayyyy pls support (kiss kiss

they were those boys in your campus. every university had them, or so you’re told. the ones to be proud of, but also weary of. the ones who could show you a good time you’d probably regret the next morning. the ones you’d tell stories about and never really forget.

at your school, that was geto suguru and gojo satoru. you heard they knew each other since high school, best friends back then and best friends now. they were part of the most infamous party house, the most awarded college teams, the most scandalous groupchats, the most torrid bathroom stalls conversations. everybody knew them, every guy wanted to be them, every girl wanted to be with them. you know the drill.

and although this was only your second year, you’d had enough run-ins with them to know exactly what they wanted — and what you wanted, too.

the two were truly inseparable despite not being all that similar, just like brothers. considering the stories you’ve heard, that proximity would be almost weird if they weren’t so hot. but that’s a can of worms you don’t want to open and, most importantly, don’t need to open in order to sit on geto suguru’s dick.

because of course it’s geto. 

sure, gojo is hot — in a really fucking annoying way. in a way that makes you want to slap that stupid grin off his face every time he ogles you and your friends at a party. you’d go for it, really, if you didn’t have to live to see the next day. you knew gojo would never let you act like it never happened, and not in a romantic way, but in a disgusting braggy way. 

gojo satoru is hot as fuck but you’re not built to handle him, if you’re being honest. not innocent enough, not devoted enough, not googly-eyed and pink-glossy-lips-drooly enough. gojo satoru was complicated like that. he came with a warning label as big as a cvs receipt in which big bold red letters warned DO NOT TRUST. and you knew better, anyway. 

but geto? geto was pretty much perfect. his looks were sweet, dark and kind of edgy, like a black kitty with really sharp teeth. he had really cute fuck me eyes and really big veiny hands and a really cool manbun and you wanted to sit your ass on his fat sick. it was simple math. 

the only thing that preoccupied you, though, was his reputation. and not his manwhore reputation or his party animal reputation or his fucks-hard-and-doesn’t-cuddle-after reputation — no, who cares about that. what worried you was his reputation with his best friend gojo satoru. 

ever since you enrolled at your university you’ve been hearing rumors. apparently, the two of them were so close that they shared everything. everything. 

would never let a brother go hungry and all. 

so yes, there was the slight possibility (only corroborated by, i don’t know, the hundreds of girls you’ve heard the same story from) that geto would want a threeway. 

you, having sex with gojo satoru? you can’t say you’ve never thought about it. you did have that one class together, your freshman year. in retrospect, the fact that he was your senior and taking the same elective as you should’ve been enough of a red flag. 

by the end of the first lesson he came up to you and told you to text him if you ever needed any materials for the class, almost sounding sincere before shrugging and saying, “i’m just on top of things. by the way, would you like to be one of them?”

and scene. 

that was your first impression of gojo satoru. 

if you two fucked a year after that initial offer of his, would it be comical or tragic? he’d never look at you the same way — that is, he’d stop looking at you like he can see your tits through your shirt with x-ray vision and start looking at you like he has seen your tits because he will have. and that sounds annoying. 

but whatever. you’ve heard the stories of how gojo fucks, after all. it’s not like it would be a bad time. 

and tonight seems like the perfect night to make a stupid decision like that because geto looks so fucking delicious in a hawaiian shirt (how is that even possible?) leaning against his yucky frat’s wall and sipping a beer. 

god, you want to bite him. is that weird?

“is that weird?” you turn to shoko, who so kindly accompanied you to another house party with the promise of free, gojo-sponsored liquor. “i want to bite geto.”

shoko looks disgusted, all too acquainted with your ramblings about the guy. her eyes scan around the room before settling towards the kitchen. “i’ll leave you to it, then, and go get a drink. do not abandon me until i’m drunk enough to be by myself in this shithole.”

you nod to her before she’s off to get her fix. and you’re gearing up to get yours, adjusting your skirt and correcting your posture until a too familiar, grating voice yells out from behind you:

“yo!” 

you sigh, rolling your eyes before turning around. 

“gojo.”

he throws one of his long arms over your shoulders, pressing your sides together. your fingers absentmindedly go back to your skirt, pulling it down. 

gojo has to lean down to talk to you, his face hovering over yours. you can feel how hot his torso is against you, his white shirt already completely unbuttoned. it sends a shiver down your spine. 

“long time no see, cutie,” gojo’s breath is warm against your ear, his voice high to be heard over the music. he gestures with his solo cup, “how are you finding the facility?”

you look up and give him a tight smile. “gross as always! is there something you want, or…”

he laughs heartily, and you feel his whole body rattle against yours. you huff in annoyance, antsy to get a word in with geto before he’s occupied. 

“so mean to me!” he looks down at you and if it weren’t for his sunglasses, that he wears indoors at nighttime like a dick, you’d be able to see his eyes looking right down your cleavage. “just when i was coming here to do you a favor.”

you can’t help but laugh at that. 

“what in the world could you possibly do for me?” he lifts an eyebrow and your finger flies up in between your faces. “don’t answer that, actually.”

“i came here to tell you a very interesting secret,” he sing songs right into the shell of your ear, earning another shiver from you. you take the cup from his hand and sip, too distracted to know what it tastes like. nibbling on the plastic rim, you gesture for him to go on. 

gojo’s smile grows that much darker, that much more sinister, a dimple appearing on the side of his cheek. 

“a little birdie told me suguru’s dying to screw you tonight.”

your demeanor must visibly brighten at that information because gojo lets out another lurching laugh. your eyes instinctively zero in on geto, across from you, who’s either doing a really good job of pretending he doesn’t hear the two you talking in the doorway or is genuinely clueless as to what his best friend is saying about him. 

you force yourself to regain your composure, shoving gojo’s solo cup into his bare chest and wiggling out of his hold. “and you care because?”

but you suspect you already know the answer to that. he puts his hands up in mock surrender, and god, your height difference is kind of reeling. 

“like i said, ‘s just a favor,” you eye him suspiciously. he continues, “he wants to fuck you, you want to fuck him. i’m just being a nice guy.”

right. nice guy. 

“and who says i want to fuck him?” you try to play it cool, even though you probably know as much as satoru knows as much as suguru knows that you’d crawl on your knees towards geto right now if that meant you could put his cock in your mouth. 

and who could blame you? 

“playing dumb?” gojo pokes your cheek. his voice grows thicker, “cute. look at you,” and he does, hungrily, eyes scanning your entire form and making you feel oddly self conscious. 

he snakes a hand around your waist and leans in close again, whispering into your ear, “all dolled up just for him. in class with me you show up in other dudes’ hoodies but for darling suguru you dress slutty. everyone knows.”

you inhale sharply. what is he playing at? is he trying to get into your head or what? people dress up at parties, people want to fuck people, it’s a thing. god, gojo is so unbearable. 

you scowl up at him. 

“first of all,” you rip his hand from your waist and he lets it fall limply by his side. “second of all, again, how is that any of your business? salty you can’t get laid without the hotter best friend’s help?”

gojo just smirks, huffing out a chuckle through his nostrils. “you don’t have to worry about me, sweetheart. although i have to say, i do worry about you…”

“what? why?” you can’t help sounding sincere at his words. he twirls a piece of your hair with his index finger. 

“‘m just saying, what kind of best friend would i be if i handed you off to suguru without taking you for a test drive first?” gojo’s disgusting, he’s audacious and cocky and it’s doing something to you. you find yourself uncharacteristically quiet as he continues, “i mean, for all i know, you just might break once he gets inside.” 

“you’re ridiculous,” you manage to utter, feeling too small and too warm. geto is no longer in your line of sight and neither is shoko and you rapidly start to feel like you’ve fallen into the lion’s den without realizing. 

“you know i’m right,” and you don’t, really, you don’t think he’s right at all but why do you want to prove him wrong so badly? “c’mon, baby, lemme break ya in a little.”

that seems to snap you out of it. “ew. you’re disgusting, where is—“

“ugh, i love it when you degrade me,” he groans sardonically, hand leaving your waist and grabbing your hand instead. “come on. i’ll take you to him.”

whatever that feeling was just then, you shake it off and relunctantly let gojo guide you through the sea of bodies in his living room, the two of you earning some whistles from his friends. eyes too busy scanning for geto, you’re surprised when you suddenly end up in front of the bathroom. 

“quick pit stop!” gojo tries. you roll your eyes. 

“you won’t even try to take me to your bed? like, you live here,” you say. 

gojo is grinning. “nah, nah. room’s for the main attraction,” he winks and turns the doorknob, letting you go inside first. what a gentleman. “this shouldn’t take long.”

the bathroom door muffles the loud music outside, leaving your ears ringing in the silence. gojo looks like a douchebag, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, shirt unbuttoned and wet with some sort of liquor, and your eyes do not dare scan any lower than that. 

you suppose he is a douchebag.

but he sounds so painfully sincere when he whines low in his throat, “wanna kiss you so bad.” 

you laugh at his face, pushing yourself up to sit on the counter. 

“i’m serious,” he says, taking a step forward. you instinctively open your legs a little to make more room. 

“you want to what, ‘break me in’, you said?”

gojo laughs and that doesn’t sound sincere at all. he takes another step towards you, slotting his hips in between your thighs. 

“suguru’ll like it sloppy,” and that’s all the explanation he gives you before he’s closing the distance between you two, crashing your lips together. 

you should be feeling ill at his words. you should be pushing him away. if you had any self respect, you would. 

but his hands on you feel so good, he’s kissing you like, yeah, he wanted to so bad. his grip on your hips is almost bruising, pulling your body closer to his so he can grind against you. 

you moan into his mouth and he’s quick to return it, tongue pushing up against yours hungrily. you feel like you’re being devoured, the kiss all encompassing, but it’s not bad, it feels so so good and gojo is so good and—

he breaks your kiss to command, “wrap your legs around me,” and you do so immediately. 

his hands push your skirt up, grabbing your ass and pulling you that much closer to him. you tug on his hair, grinding down hard against him, and he lets out the sweetest, most pitiful moan that sends your head reeling. 

“gojo…” you say his name but you don’t know what for, don’t know what you want or what to ask or what to say, all you know is yes and good and more. “satoru—“

gojo whines and presses his lips to yours desperately, grinding his hard on against your clothed pussy. he’s big, you can feel him all over your cunt, and you suddenly need all these layers between you gone. 

“fuck, let me see,” he swallows hard, pushing your shirt up fully. “lemme see those tits baby, that’s it—”

you puff your chest out when gojo pulls your bra down. you expect him to go for your boobs but instead he goes back in for a kiss, panting into your mouth. 

god, it’s too much. for how collected he acts one hundred percent of the time, seeing gojo satoru disheveled is a power trip. 

“touch me,” you mumble against his lips. 

he gives you a few pecks, nibbling your bottom lip before pulling away. 

“fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” gojo says, one hand grabbing your tit and another pulling your panties to the side. the cool air on your dripping core makes you shudder, and you feel yourself gush at the slightest brush of his fingers against you. 

he bends down to pop a nipple into his mouth and you arch your back, gripping his hair hard, ‘cause apparently he likes that. you both let out a unison moan as he sucks, saliva audibly swishing inside his mouth. 

you know it’s gonna leave a mark, he’s gonna leave a lot of bruises as he bites and sucks and keeps you distracted while he slips a finger into your wet core. 

you suddenly regain conscience and remember the man working your body with nothing more than his hands and mouth probably has a pretty painful big hard cock inside his pants, so you reach out to help him. 

“wait,” he says, mouth popping against your breast, “wait, you can suck it, i just wanna—i gotta do this first, lemme—“

that’s all he says before giving you another kiss and dropping to his knees. 

you’re obviously not going to complain, you can neglect his dick just fine, nevermind the fact that you want it inside you immediately. but in the meantime, gojo’s got two fingers pumping in and out of you and he’s about to put his face between your legs. 

it’s beautiful, it’s a lot, you want it so fucking bad and it shows. 

“so fucking wet, all f’me” he lays his tongue flat against your clit and licks a fat stripe up your pussy, making you groan in anticipation for what’s to come. “been thinking of this pretty pussy for so long.”

“yeah?,” you whine, brushing some hair away from his face before coaxing his head closer to where you want it. gojo moans in response and starts working his tongue in tight circles over your clit. 

fuck, is gojo satoru in a frat bathroom the best head you’ve ever had? he might be, with the way he expertly rubs his fingers against your walls, instantly finding that spongy patch that makes you jut your hips out. 

“fuck, right there,” you grind against his face, delighting yourself in the debauched moans he makes against your cunt. not only does it feel good, it looks so fucking hot and you can’t tear your eyes away. “stay right there, you’re so good.”

the way he eats it like he needs to, like it’ll save your life, like this alone is enough to make the both of you cum, you can’t help the too-honest praise tumbling from your lips. 

“yeah? tastes so fucking good” he mumbles, rubbing a thumb over your clit. you nod, bottom lip held tightly between your teeth. “play with your tits, baby, those juicy fucking tits, do it for me.”

you obey, head hanging back in pleasure. you keep one hand anchored firmly in his hair, your fingers gripping so hard they start to tingle. 

you shove his face closer, earning a deep groan from him. he noses at your pussy, replacing his fingers in your entrance with his tongue, fucking in and out of you. your breathing has lost all rhythm, your chest feels tight and on fire and a bead of sweat rolls down your back. 

you can faintly make out gojo asking do you like this? just like this baby? and all you can say in response is a string of “yeahs” and breathy little moans. they almost sound surprised, and they might be, because every twist of his tongue and every brush of his fingers knocks the breath right out your lungs. 

it’s so much pleasure that it doesn’t make sense. you think, suddenly, this is why people do drugs, this is why people develop addictions because you have no fucking clue how you’re supposed to live without gojo satoru between your legs from now on. 

“satoru. i wanna cum,” you whine, mind to mouth filter completely obliterated because all you want to do is fucking cum for gojo satoru. message relayed. 

“fuck yeah, baby, you wanna cum? i’m gonna make you cum?” he’d sound pathetic if you didn’t know how much of a whore he was. his fingers go back inside you and speed up ever so slightly, his lips wrapping around your clit. gojo’s tongue works you over and over and over and all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and the sound of gojo swallowing every few seconds. 

he doesn’t stop, mumbles his dirty talk right into your pussy, like fucking cum for me baby cum all over my face yeah do it i’m gonna make you cum so hard god you look so fucking sexy wanna fuck you so bad, and you don’t want to know why but it makes you all the more intent in coming the hardest you ever have. 

you grip gojo’s hair and grind into his face mercilessly, revelling in the gurgling sounds coming from between your legs. 

“ohhh fuck, fuck, satoru i’m so close, just keep doing that, yeah just like that—“ gojo groans, using his free hand to play with your nipple. 

it’s too much, it’s too good, the coil in your belly that’s been building up since you started entertaining the idea of maybe getting laid tonight finally snapping. 

you’re sure you’ve never been this loud as you cum, hard, you can feel it gushing out of you and right into gojo’s awaiting mouth. with ringing ears and trembling legs, you find purchase in his hair as you keep cumming for him. 

the muscles on your thighs seize up as you ride out your orgasm against gojo’s face, your feet trying to find any sort of balance or solid ground. but you wiggle desperately in his hold, the man below you fulfilling his promise of drinking every last drop of you until the two of you are satisfied. 

you’re catching your breath when gojo finally pulls away from you, his face and neck flushed as you’re sure yours are. your back falls against the foggy bathroom mirror, chest rising and falling dramatically as you catch your breath. 

he finally stands up, sneaking a very obvious hand down his pants to readjust his erection. once he catches your gaze, he smirks at you. 

you try to roll your eyes, you really do, but what comes out is a slow, languid blink. you’re completely fucked out and he loves it, leans in to kiss you so fucking deep you taste yourself all over his mouth.  

before you can do anything else, anything more or less than kiss him back, you hear three knocks on the door. 

they’re gentle, nothing like the sound of a pissed off college student, murderous because you’re hogging the bathroom. 

gojo pushes himself away from you, grinning. “right on time.”

he grabs both your tits in his hands and plants a wet kiss on one, then the other, before pulling your shirt back down. 

you’re still dumbfounded, your overworked body slumped against the bathroom counter. 

before you have time to react, gojo’s opening the door to let geto suguru in. 

your body jolts, legs closing shut in what’s almost abject horror. you nearly forgot he’s what you came to this party for. 

it feels like you got caught red handed, and it must show on your face because geto shakes his head and laughs that pretty, sexy laugh, waving a hand around to tell you it’s okay. 

“please, don’t stop on my account,” are his first words to you tonight. 

you would say something if you weren’t sure your voice would fail you. but like usual, gojo satoru can’t stay quiet for too long.

“all done. she’s too easy” he announces cheerily, but the funny thing is, he doesn’t leave. instead, geto lets the bathroom door close behind him as he crowds in. 

you realize this space is far too small for two very tall men, most definitely far too small for whatever is about to go down between the three of you, and your calming heart starts to race again. 

“hey, pretty,” geto reaches out and wipes the side of your lip. “having fun?”

you can only nod, looking at gojo satoru of all people for answers.

he looks at you like he hasn’t just eaten your pussy with the intensity of a starving man, like he wants to do it again, right now. 

geto is sporting a similar look of hunger, looking between you and gojo and quickly assessing the situation that just happened here. 

this is weird. this is so fucking weird and so stupidly hot. 

“wanna take her for a ride next?” gojo asks geto like he’s not talking about a person, like you don’t have a say in it, like you belong to the both of them to play with, and it turns your brain to mush. 

geto smiles, handsome and dangerous. 

“what do you say, honey?” this time he addresses you. you swallow hard, looking between the two men in front of you. gojo grabs the outline of his hard cock through his pants, a reminder that whatever this is, it isn’t over just yet. “down to have double the fun?”

[transformation4life]

Army, Man

Juan was your average guy before his life was changed forever. Decent grades at his dream college, but no friends to speak of. So when he received a letter to join the US army in his assigned mailbox Juan was very confused. "The army? They must joking." Juan spoke as he looked at the recruitment flyer in his dorm room.

Juan and being enlisted in the army sounded like a twisted joke to him. He was scrawny and could barely do one pushup in gym class. Either way, Juan noticed a number at the bottom of the flyer in big bold letters and some voice in his head was nagging at him to call it.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt. Maybe it'll be fun! Who knows!" So Juan grabbed his phone and dialed the number.

Some rings later and it sounded like a guy picked a phone. "Hey there, Name's Gruff, I'm assuming you're calling cause of the flyer you got in the mail, yeah?" Gruff's was deep and masculine. Definitely Juan's type but I bet he was straight.

"Y-Yeah! I thought I'd give it a shot since it's not like I got anything better to do!"

"That's the spirit man! Our army count has been real low due to... events so even one guy joining is great! But first I just need to ask you a few questions..." "A-Alright. Go on ahead..." Juan had to wonder what they would ask. "First question! Are you sure you want to join the army?" Gruff's tone was dead serious on this one and it shook Juan up a bit. "U-Uh... Yeah!" Juan was too far in to quit now at least that was his reasoning.

"Wonderful! Next question. How muscular are you?"

Juan frowned. As mentioned before, he barely had muscle and never went to the gym. Still, he felt the need to answer honestly.

"N-Not really sir. Sorry." "Haha don't worry about it! Alright that's all see you soon!" Gruff hung up before Juan could even say bye.

Juan was a bit shaken but that wasn't too bad. Juan pondered the interaction and something hit him. "Wait... I didn't tell him my address and he said he'll see me soo-" A wave of pain immediately hit Juan and he fell to the floor.

It wasn't before long Juan's body began to grow and get more muscular. Juan's arms became much beefier as his biceps were the size of sports balls. Six perfect abs popped onto Juan's stomach as his nonexistent chest began to inflate and become thick poppable pecs as his back expanded to support his new musculature making his tshirt real tight. Soon after, Juan's neck got thicker as his adam's apple was now ever more prominent than before as he gained some facial hair around his mouth. Juan's legs were next to grow as his thighs became much larger and his legs more defined as feet increased some sizes. Luckily Juan wasn't wearing any shoes but Juan's socks definitely didn't survive the growth. Some more minor changes appeared like a bigger dick and Juan's body aging physically. It's a miracle none of Juan's clothes ripped apart but it's not like it mattered anyway as Juan's apparel began to change.

Juan's graphic tee became more tough material and more generic as it became a dark green. It was still tight around Juan's figure though. Next up was Juan's pants as it gained a camouflage pattern and became cargo pants. A belt magically appeared and looped around the belt holes of his news pants as well as an army hat wrapping around Juan's head. Juan's socks were stitched back together and went a dark black and suddenly army boots were now being worn by Juan. The last change was an army tag appearing around Juan's neck saying "Juan Graham". Juan was now the definition of a buff army man.

Once the pain subsided and Juan regained his bearings he readjusted his glasses and looked at the mirror nearby. "What the- WHAT THE FU- Oh god, my voice... my EVERYTHING!" Juan was amazed but also scared. He gained muscles in seconds but how?

And before Juan could question things further, Juan's phone rang once again. Juan saw that it was the army recruit number. He concluded they must be involved so he answered the call.

"Hey Juan, ready for your first day?" It was Gruff again "First day? You did this to me, didn't you?"

"Not sure what you mean, but you agreed to join the army and we need you now." "But I don't even know anything about how to do anythin-" One more sound of pain hit Juan as memories of years of military training and gym workouts filled his mind. Everything he could ever need to be in the army was now in his brain. Juan now much more confident started a new sentence. "Nevermind. When does the car get here?"

"That's our Juan! Should be there soon. You can walk out and wait already." "Perfect. See you soon." Juan hung up and left his dorm and old life behind. It was probably for the best anyway. He much preferred being a beefcake army man than some twink in college.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- Apologies for not posting for a couple months. I got major writer's block but here's a story for you guys hope you like it!

[yuriisclumsy]

I'm so excited that more people started taking cale request!!!✧\(>o<)ﾉ✧

Anyway hiii! Can I have an enemy to lovers with cale henituse and fem.reader idk something cliche like a dance scene or one gets protective of the other or maybe a cute "oh shit I'm actually in love moment"

Sorry I'm bursting with ideas rn.~

Love's Dance

Part 1 (You are here) | Part 2 | Part 3

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2,729

Authors note: You ask, and I shall deliver. PS. why did you give me such a good idea? like, I'm at 5k word for the overall thing, and I am not even done yet... (send help)

The streets of Roan Kingdom's Capital were bustling like usual. The vendors selling their goods, children running around carelessly, mothers screaming at them to not get dirty, and the usual underground activity Arm did. 

I strolled through these streets, thinking of nothing and relaxing ‘til I get another mission. 

“That reminds me…Arm has been quiet as of late. Sigh…they are up to no good…” I spoke to no one in particular, walking back to the Quiet Isle lodge. 

Quiet Isle is an inn in an area a little off the center of the Capital. I stayed there for the past three weeks after finishing my last mission. The price to stay is cheap, while still being comfortable. It has comfortable rooms, a clear view, free breakfast, and most importantly, it wasn’t noisy at all! Bonus points for the innkeepers, as they have been nothing but sweethearts.  

All-in-all, a good Inn if you’re looking to get your coins worth. 

I went through the inn’s doors, a sweet aroma of lavender hitting my nostrils as I neared the front desk.  

The Innkeepers were an old couple, and the misses genuinely enjoyed the smell of lavender. That is why, as you walk through the inn, you’ll be met with an influx of light purples from the flowers. 

Reaching the desk, I was greeted by a senior woman whose smile could cure all kinds of child injuries. 

“Oh! Why if it is the youth I’m all too familiar with!” The old granny said, delighted to see me. 

 “Greetings, Granny Fes,” I vowed curtly with a small smile. “Have there been any new guests at the inn?” I asked as she extended her hand to give me a piece of candy. 

Receiving the small candy, I offered a small ‘thank you.’ She said a quick ‘You’re welcome!’ before responding to my question. “Yes, yes! I welcomed a few new guests shortly after you left this morning for a stroll!” she excitedly told me. 

“Two of the five I welcomed are a couple expecting a child! Isn't that exciting? Ouu, to be young again…” 

“Oh, please. I say you are still quite young!” I say to get her head out of that cloud. 

“Fufufu, you are too kind [Name].” Granny Fes pinched my cheek as she got a bit flustered. “I believe one day you’ll meet a handsome young man that is suited just for you.” She added. 

I blushed a little, “Oh no, I don’t think that will happen…” I pause for a second. “Do you really think I’ll get lucky enough to have that...?” I asked, not believing I would get someone special to spend my days with. 

“Don’t give me that!” Granny Fes yelled, as if scolding one of her own. “You are beautiful! Which man wouldn't dream of having a wife such as yourself!?” 

All I could do was smile in response. This is how I want things to always go. Living in a peaceful area, sharing memories with people I meet along the way, even starting a family. Arm is nowhere near that picture. And it will never be. 

But alas. Good things always end. 

“Ah! That reminds me. [Name],” she called my name and handed me an envelope, “You received mail from a young lad. He said it was urgent.”  

Looking at the envelope as Granny Fes left to continue her job, I had an ominous feeling, yet I couldn’t pinpoint what it was.  

I turned it around only to see Arm’s seal stamped on it. Arm only sends letters if it is an important mission, and based on the color of the seal, it is of utmost importance.  

I am already not liking this I thought, refusing to open the letter. Maybe if I were to pretend its existence was nothing but a useless paper, it would disappear. But alas, I needed to open the envelope. With worry present in my face I opened it with the seal. Inside was a letter addressing Agent White Gold.  

That code name. It is the thing I despised most in this world. 

To Agent White Gold, 

Play time is up, White Gold. You have been assigned a mission in the Henituse Territory. We have discovered the traces of the leader of the organization known as ‘True Arm.’ Your mission is to go there and find out who the leader of the organization is, dead or alive. It is your choice which one you pick.  

A carriage will come to pick you up at sunrise, so don’t miss it.  

Once you arrive at your destination one of our men will greet you and guide you to your resting location and hand you an envelope. Inside, you will find descriptions of the one we are looking for, alongside a list of individuals that we found to match the description of our target. 

Remember, Agent, we are counting on your success. 

Don’t disappoint us, 

Arm 

Dammit… The moment I receive some peace after working for them like a slave…! I angrily store the letter to shreds, as if it were them instead of the letter. All I wanted was to disappear from the eyes of those bastards. They took me from my home, changed me to fit in an identity they made…they just can’t leave me alone, can they? 

 

I wanted to say no. To be able to run away to a far corner of the world so they would never be able to find me. But it is impossible. No one leaves. Rather, they die. Dying was the only way out. 

Yet, I want to live. 

I looked at Granny Fes as she talked with a few guests that were checking out. At that moment I knew that if I tried to escape, they would get everyone I was surrounded by. She doesn't deserve that. Neither does her husband, or her children and grandchildren. 

It is best I comply. 

“Sigh…Once you're in, there is no escaping their grasp…”  

The sky was tainted in hues of blues, purples, and oranges. The sun was rising from the nap it took, and fully ready to greet us. 

A carriage arrived early at the Quiet Isle Inn. Inside stood Granny Fes and Gramps Liy right next to me. Their eyes expressed sadness when looking at me. 

“Why so sad?” I asked the couple. 

“Oh, it’s just…it’s just that we’re both sad you’re leaving so soon.” Granny Fes confessed. Her husband, a bit more stubborn, only scuffed. Granny Fes elbowed him hard with a smile still shooting at me, gaining a small scowl from Gramps Liy. 

“AGHEM,” he raised one hand to fake a cough, “I guess you will be missed.” 

I laugh at his antics. Deep down he cares, he just has an unconventional way of expressing his feelings. 

“I’ll miss the two of you.” I looked at them with a small hinge of sadness but kept a smile to reassure them. I looked outside to see the coachman wave his hand signaling that he was ready for departure. “It seems I must go,” I turned to them, “see you later?” 

“Yes, yes. Goodbye little lady.” Gramps Liy ‘shud’ me to the carriage as he and his wife stared at me opening the door of the carriage. 

“Farewell, sweetheart. Make sure to take good care of yourself. And remember to look out for good lads while you’re traveling!” Granny Fes nagged me like I was about to never come back. Although, she was right about that. I don’t think I will be able to come back if I want to protect them. 

I laughed and said a small ‘I will!’ as I climbed into the carriage. Closing the door the carriage started moving. I waved to the couple one last time before I could not see them anymore. 

Sighting, I took out the map I packed. Looking at my destination, it was a few days from the capital. “This is going to be a loong trip…” I commented, making myself comfortable for the journey ahead. 

I hope I get this mission done quickly, so I can get another vacation from Arm. I looked up at the ceiling. I mean…how hard could it be to find this ‘leader’ anyways? 

… 

An old butler walks dutifully around the state halls. In hand, he holds a tray with a fancy tea set with a steel dome keeping the food inside warm; its aroma could be smelled by the passing housekeepers with wet laundry. 

The butler knocked at a door, he did not have to wait long, as he got an immediate response from the person inside. Opening the door he says his greetings. 

“Good morning, young master. I brought breakfast along with your favorite drink.” He says as he places down the tray on the table close to the window. 

“Ah, thank you, Ron.” A male voice thanked the butler. 

“It is my pleasure, young master Cale.” The butler, Ron, bowed. 

The man, who is now identified as Cale, sat down on the table to enjoy his breakfast. 

“Young master, if I may…” Ron waited for permission to continue speaking. 

“*Sight* Just spit it out.” Cale said in an uninterested voice. This is another one of his tangents. Drinking the lemonade that Ron made as he thinks of Ron’s earlier endeavors. 

Ron smiled, “I have detected Arm activity within the city.” 

“PFF–” spilling all the lemonade on the cup, he looked at Ron with widened eyes.

What is Arm doing here?! They have more pressing issues to deal with! Like, figuring out who Real Arm is! Cale’s thought went haywire.

 

Ron took his handkerchief out and gave it to Cale to use. 

“What do you mean there is Arm activity in the city? Is it more bombs?” He asked while using the cloth given to him to clean the mess he made. 

He shook his head, “no, at least not yet. I have seen them snoop around the city for information. It would seem we left them a small lead.” 

“Not good…” 

“If you’d prefer, young master, I could go rabbit hunting.” 

Looking at Ron with a drop of sweat evident in his forehead, he reluctantly answered. “...do whatever you want.”  

“Hehe. Then I will take my leave.” He bowed before leaving the room without making a sound. 

Scary old man. He looked outside pouring more lemonade in his cup. It’s not a good sign if Arm is here. I need to prepare in case they strike. 

… 

“Hey, wake up! We’re almost there!” 

“WHAT? HUH–huh?” I got up from my seat at lightning speed, looking around in a daze. As I scoot closer to the window, I see the giant walls looming overhead. On top of one of the towers built in the wall was a flag. It was the Henituse’s family crest imprinted on it.  

I’m already in the Henituse territory! 

Getting closer at the entrance door of the city, the carriage stopped, as they had to do a check before letting anyone in. 

“Execute me, m’lady. May I have your identification paper?” A soldier asked me. 

Security check? When I traveled to other places, they didn’t ask for my identification but the coachman’s. 

I handed him the paper without complaint, receiving it right after he checked that everything was good. The other soldiers gave him a thumbs up after checking the carriage and the coachman. Without further interruption they let us through, wishing us a happy stay. 

“That was…something.” 

The coach man dropped me off at a tavern near the city square. Going upstairs to the second floor of the establishment, I sat down at a table near the edge of the balcony. Waiting for the man that was supposed to give me the information mentioned in the letter I looked out into the streets, I could see the liveliness of the people.  

They were too lively in my opinion. 

Hearing footsteps approaching my table I diverted my attention to them. I was greeted with a man wearing a hat with fancy clothing. 

“Hello, m’lady,” the man greeted by taking his hat off and vowing curtly. 

Didn’t know Arm also had rich allies. I thought, seeing the man's mannerisms. 

“Good evening,” I vowed slightly, “are you the one mentioned in the letter?” 

“Eager now, are we?” He sat down in front of me with a smug smile. He placed his hat down before taking out an envelope. He slid it across the table. As I grabbed it, I took out its content.  

It was a list of suspects. They all had red hair and were male. And that was it. No underground activities, no records, nothing. 

“That’s…it?”  

This is the only information they managed to find…seriously? I thought. Was someone able to sneak past Arm’s noses? How is that even possible? 

“Unfortunately, it is.” 

“Ha...!” I laughed at the absurdity of the situation. I looked up at the man after reviewing the list of suspects.  

“This is the only description we managed to find,” the smile on his face dropped into a frown, “only at the low cost of our scouts: a single spy was able to escape long enough to hide a piece of paper in a tree trunk…” he said. 

“....” I looked down at the list.  

To be able to kill all of our scouts…this is no meek foe. Just thinking of how strong they are sends shivers down my spine…  

“I have arranged a small room at an Inn close by here. I have left some equipment at your disposal. The location is on one of the papers in the envelope.” The man stood up and put his hat on, adjusting his suit a little before looking at me.  

“If you need anything else, I left a card at your place with instructions as to how you can contact me. Remember I’m at your service m’lady, Tata! ~” 

“I will keep that in mind.” 

Watching as he disappeared behind the doors of the second floor, I decided to order something to eat before heading to my fixed place. 

…

 

“…a festival?” Cale looked at the flier given to him. 

“That’s right,” Count Deruth, Cale’s father, said nonchalantly, “the festival will brighten the people's moods, as well as show that we are financially good.” 

Politics…. 

! 

“Wait, here it says the ‘Henituse’s’ are attending…I don’t have to attend…right?” 

Deruth raised an eyebrow in question. “You don’t have to go.” 

“...” 

I must go. *Sight* My well-deserved rest has been postponed once again… can’t I catch a break for once? 

“On that note, I have reserved a spot on the city square where we will be presiding during the time,” he said as Cale gave him back the paper.  

“You don’t have to talk–or better said–you don’t have to even move. Just sitting there is enough.” 

Cale smiled at this I don’t have to move? Seems perfect to me! 

“I’ll be attending in that case.” 

“The festival will start in a few days. Be ready.” 

Cale exited his father’s study, walking back to his room. 

I need to tell Ron about this. It’ll be no surprise if Arm takes advantage of the festival. There stands a man with black hair waiting outside Cale’s room for him to come. 

“!” 

“Young master Cale!” The man runs towards him with puppy-like energy. 

“Choi Han, is there something you need?” Cale asked. 

“I heard from Ron that there have been suspicious activities happening in the city. So, I came to ask for permission to investigate.” Hans explained. 

Cale hummed. Strange. Usually, you would do these types of things without letting me know. Perhaps he thinks this is a bit dangerous and if he doesn't return, we know where to look? 

“You can do as you please, no need to ask for my permission.” 

“I see…thank you young master,” Han vowed, “I will report back immediately once I find anything!” As he said that, he began to leave. 

“Oh, and, Choi Han?” Cale spoke before he could fully leave. 

“Yes, Cale?” 

“If you find anything, make sure to report first. Don’t go around making havoc, got it?” Cale instructed. 

“...yes” he responded with a bit of thinking, knowing it was the best decision. 

Let’s see what they have in store for us. Cale entered his room, he’ll laze around until the festival actually begins. What a bother… 

… 

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Master-List

[faefictions]

Snow in Indiana

Eddie Munson x Reader

5.7k words

Eddie has spent the past decade thinking about the pen pal he lost touch with, but fate has a funny way of bringing people back together when they need it most

Warnings: family death (unedited bc it is 3am and I have been working on this for hours)

“Dear Eddie, 

Does it Snow in Indiana?” 

He had read the beginning of the note hundreds of times by now. He had memorized how each individual letter had been written and slightly smudged. He knew the entire contents of the letter by heart, but that never stopped him from coming back to it from time to time. 

“My grandma hasn’t told me much about Hawkins, just that it’s just like home. Except it’s on the other side of the country. Grandma likes the snow, so I hope you say yes.” 

Something about the innocent nature of your writing calmed him down when things got rough. He had received the note in the middle of August at the beginning of 6th grade. Your grandmother had just moved across the country, and she just so happened to be the Librarian at Eddie’s new middle school. She had told both of you that the other could use a friend, even if you were thousands of miles apart. She also insisted that being pen pals would improve both of your lackluster reading and writing skills. She meant well. 

“Can I tell you the truth? I didn’t want to write you a letter when grandma called and told me I should. My teachers say I’m not good at writing anyway. But Grandma also said maybe you and I could be friends. And I think I would like that.” 

Some of your words had been crossed out with pen, either from misspellings or second thoughts on phrasing. Eddie had stared at the paper for so long that he even knew what was underneath those scribbles. 

When the snow started coming down each winter, it was hard for him to not want to keep the letter on him at all times. The opening line of your first letter to him always floated into his head with the first snowflakes. 

He had written you back to assure you that it does snow in Indiana, that he too had troubles with pleasing his teachers with his school work, and of course, that he too would like to be friends. 

That was over 10 years ago now. He had never met you, never heard your voice, never learned what you looked like (besides the poorly drawn picture you had included for him one time) but you had been a part of him for his middle school years. 

The letters started slowing down in the 8th grade. You had told him you were nervous for high school, that you’d heard that kids were meaner there. The last letter he had sent you was in the summer before both of your freshman years. He hated that he couldn’t remember what he had said, what his last words to you were. All he knew was that he wished you luck for your first day. 

Then the letters stopped completely. After months of checking mailboxes impatiently, he got the hint and gave up. 

At the age of 24, he wishes he sent another letter. He wishes he got some closure on why you stopped writing. He had always wondered if it had been something he had said, or maybe you had just found new friends in high school and decided you didn’t need him anymore. 

He was embarrassed to admit that it was his first heartbreak. So he refused to admit it even happened to anyone he knew now. 

He tucked the old letter in his pocket as another patron entered the diner. He had picked up a second job as the night cook in hopes of saving up enough to to move out of the trailer with Wayne. It had been months of helping Wayne with bills now, and he was just barely starting to see the hard work pay off in his savings account. 

He peeked out the pass through window to get a glimpse of the first customer they’d had in the last hour and a half. The snow had been coming down hard, and it was preventing the already few people who would be coming in to the diner at this hour from showing up. He wasn’t surprised to see the young woman, somewhere around his age, follow the waitress quickly to the booth in the corner and sit down. He was, however, surprised to see no new car in the small lot outside. He hadn’t seen headlights arrive or depart to drop her off. The snow that has accumulated on her hair, even thought it has been covered with a hood, was making him think she had walked a distance to get here. If the counter hadn’t been blocking his view, he would have seen the bottom of her pants completely soaked through from the snow piled outside to confirm his suspicion. 

“Can you start on a stack of pancakes, Ed?”

He nodded at the waitress, Judy, who wasn’t usually one to whisper like she was now. She rushed off to the phone in the back office, which did nothing but pique the interest in Eddie’s under stimulated brain. 

Curiosity got the best of him, so he made his way out of the kitchen quickly, grabbed a mug from the counter and the full coffee pot, and made his way over the girl in the corner. 

You had been staring out the window, and Eddie recognized the look as he approached. You were doing your best to hold yourself together. He was used to this kind of customer at this time of night. People who really needed the company, who had nowhere else to go, often found their way here after midnight. But there was something different about you, and it wasn’t just that he had never seen you around town. No matter how hurt he could tell you were inside, you did your best to keep up a facade when you saw him approaching. 

“Coffee?” he offered, less poised than he had intended.

“Please,” you smiled up at him as he set down the mug and poured. He allowed himself to take you in, and that’s when he saw the snow still caked on to your sneakers, and the damp cloth stretching from the hem above your ankle nearly up to your knees. There was snow yet to melt from head to toe, and you were trying your best not to shake from the cold. 

“You walk here?” He tried to make light conversation as he chuckled, but you weren’t as chipper. 

“My car broke down about a mile up the road. Walking was my only option,” You tried to keep the smile on your face, but Eddie saw the look, almost like a shunned child. As if you were embarrassed by what you had done, preparing for the lecture or consequence coming your way. 

Before he could say anything, Judy returned from the back office. 

“Tow truck won’t be running ’til morning, darlin’. But I left a message telling them you’d call first thing,” Judy gave you a halfhearted smile, before turning to Eddie, “Where’s that stack I told you to start on?” 

“Right, sorry,” he quickly excused himself back to the kitchen, but did his best to listen for the conversation you were having on the other side of the room. 

“Where are you staying tonight? I can try to get you a ride there.” 

“My grandma’s house, well it used to be I guess. I think it’s just a few more miles into town, I’m not a hundred percent sure though, I’ve never been out here.” 

“Used to be your grandma’s house?”

“Yeah, she, uhm… passed away not long ago. Hard to own something six feet under,” you tried to joke, but failed to make either of you laugh, “Funeral service is next week, I came early to pack up her things. Guess I chose the wrong day to drive in though.” 

“I’d say. Well let me see what I can do, do you have the address?” 

“Yeah, it’s right…” you trailed off as you checked your pocket, slowly coming to realize that you had left the torn piece of paper with the address written on it on your passenger seat, right on top of the map you were struggling to follow in the heavy snow. “Guess I left it in the car.” 

Just as the realization was threatening to break you, Eddie came and set a fresh stack of 3 pancakes in front of you. 

“You eat up, it’s on the house. And let me know if you remember any of that address,” Judy smiled at you and walked into the back before you could refuse the free pancakes.

Eddie watched you for the next hour through the pass through window. No other customers came in, so he didn’t exactly have anything better to do. It was nearing 4 am, the end of Eddie’s shift. He had cleaned his station in the kitchen faster than he ever had and made his way out to your table to check on your before he left. 

“Any luck with that address?”

“Don’t think I’d remember it with a gun to my head. I might as well walk back and grab it.” 

“Not a chance. My shift is over in a few minutes. Why don’t I drive you back to your car, you can grab it, and I can get you there.”

“I couldn’t possibly-“

“No need to be polite. You’ve had a rough enough night, let’s just get you home.”

You didn’t correct his phrasing. This was the furthest you had ever been from home, and you were sure as hell feeling that in this strange diner with barely a concept of where you were. The snow falling outside only exacerbated your feeling of being out of place. 

Eddie rushed to the back to grab his belongings and wish Judy a good night, letting her know he was going to get you out of there, before he made his way back out to you. You had brought the hood of your sweatshirt back up, and were staring out at the snow silently. He approached cautiously and gently spoke, “Let’s get out of here,” before guiding you through the door. 

“I’m Eddie, by the way. Sorry I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier.” 

You paused at his name, but he was too busy trying to find his van through the wall of snow to notice. 

“I’m y/n, thanks again for helping. You and Judy are both angels.” 

He smiled at your name for a moment, but kicked the idea from his mind. 

Both of you thought of the letters you had sent all those years ago, unaware that the person climbing into the same car as you was in fact the person you were reminiscing on. 

Eddie shook the snow out of his hair like a wet dog before starting the van. 

“Left out of the lot?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled. 

“You know, I’ve helped fix up a few cars in my day. I could take a look under the hood for you when we get there if you’d like.”

“You’re already helping enough, thank you though.”

“I really don’t mind. Can’t hurt just to take a look.” 

The glance and smile he shot you made your stomach do flips. In the low light of the passing, sparse streetlights, he looked incredibly handsome. Your mind wandered back to what you thought your Eddie looked like back in middle school. You had sent him a drawing of yourself, mostly as a joke since your drawing skills as a 12 year old weren’t amazing, but you were also trying to send him the message that you desperately wanted to know him better. Of course, when your grandmother had insisted you become pen pals with a strange boy, you weren’t too happy about the idea, but as time went on, the sound of a friend sounded too nice. You hadn’t had many of them in elementary school, and it concerned your family. But as your friendship with Eddie grew with each letter, you found yourself hoping for something, anything, more. Now, as an adult, you blame your adolescent brain for the silly crush. But that didn’t stop you from thinking about him from time to time, still wondering what he might be doing in that moment, or if he is happy. But most of all, you wondered if he missed you as much as you missed him. 

“You doing alright over there?” he asked you over the quiet metal playing over the speakers. He was playing it at about 1% of the volume he usually listened at, in an attempt to not scare you off just yet. 

“Yeah, just a long night,” you smiled back at him. He nearly assured you that you could be real with him, that he could tell that something more was bothering you, but he worried that would be coming on too strong. And before he could find a way to say it without sounding creepy, you pointed out your car on the side of the road with a sigh. 

It had only been a couple hours since you had left it, but it was nearly buried in the snow. 

“That’s a little more difficult to check out,” He chuckled as he pulled to the side of the road, lighting up your car with his headlights. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just go grab the address and we can get going,” you tried not to sigh as you opened the passenger door. 

“Wait a second,” Eddie reached for your hand before you could make it out of the car, “I’m fine with taking a look, and I can grab the address too. No need for you to get cold again.” 

“I already walked a mile in the snow earlier, I don't think a minute out there will kill me.”

“All the more reason for you to stay in here if you ask me.”

“Fine, but skip looking under the hood. I can call the tow truck when I wake up, it should be fine until then. Even if you could fix it with nothing, I don’t think I should be driving any more today.”

“Long trip?”

“Since 8 am. I really just want to get to sleep.”

“Deal,” he smiled again before stretching his hand out to you, “Keys?”

You reluctantly let him have the keys to go grab the paper, but not before trying to assure him you were capable of grabbing it yourself. You watched him as he rushed as fast as he could through the near foot of snow, grabbed the address, and rushed back to the van. 

“You didn’t lock it,” you stated, nervous to not to sound nagging. 

“I know, do you have a bag or something I can grab for you?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, where is it?”

“It’s in the back seat on the passenger side. It’s a small black suitcase.”

“You got it, here, take this,” he handed you the torn paper with your grandmother’s previous address written on it in a handwriting that would have been familiar to him, had he glanced down at it. 

He ran back to grab your suitcase, and made sure to double check that the doors had locked after he shut them before he rushed back to the van. He threw your suitcase in the backseat before jumping back into the drivers seat. 

“I don’t know how you lasted a mile in that, I’m already freezing,” he complained, but his smile still refused to leave his face. 

“I’m sorry,” you tried yet again to apologize. 

“Don’t be,” he paused to look you in the eye to assure you that he wasn’t upset in the slightest, “Now let’s see that address. Hopefully I actually know where it is.”

You handed him the paper, and even in the low light, you couldn’t miss the way his face fell, even for a millisecond. He hadn’t seemed to stop smiling all night, but the second he saw the paper, it faltered for just a moment. 

“Everything ok?” 

He looked up at you, and you could tell he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. 

“Yeah, uhm, this is on the other side of town though. It’s a bit of a drive, is that ok?”

“I’d rather drive a little further than stay in my car tonight. So yeah, it’s fine,” you giggled, relieved that he didn’t seem angry or annoyed with you like you thought. 

But he had seen the handwriting. He would know it anywhere, yet he still wouldn’t let himself get caught up in the coincidences. You were just a girl with similar handwriting, and the same name. You weren’t his y/n. He could never be so lucky. 

“So, what brings you to town?” he asked after a moment of driving. 

“It isn’t the happiest story, and I don’t want to be a bummer.” 

“I’m nosey, and that does nothing to curb my interest,” he joked. He just needed to prod, he needed to know if he was being crazy. 

“My grandma passed… about a week ago now. Her funeral is next week, but someone needed to clean up her house for the service, and no one else wanted to make the drive out.” 

“Do you have any other family in the area to help out?”

“No, she only had 2 sons. My dad and my uncle, and they’re both back west. She moved here, like, 12 years ago now I think. Maybe 13.” 

Just another coincidence. He’s not this lucky. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eyes. You hadn’t heard that yet. Just stressed adults complaining about how traveling in the winter was too much of a hassle. Hearing those words, from a near stranger no less, was enough to make you tear up. And Eddie could hear that in your voice when you thanked him, but he chose not to comment on it. 

“So,” you began after a moment of awkward silence, “How long have you lived in Hawkins?”

“My whole life.”

“Do you like it here?”

“Uh… It has its moments,” he tried his best to hide his discontent with the town. If it weren’t for his uncle, his band, and his small group of friends, he would have ran for the hills by now. He was too attached to them to run… and also lacking the funds to do so. 

“That good huh?” you laughed. 

“Hate to sound like an ass, but there are definitely plenty of cons that outweigh the pros for me half the time. But that’s not everyone’s experience.”

“Grandma seemed to like it, but she also liked it back home, and it’s no cake walk back there.” 

You almost spat the end of your sentence, and although it wasn’t spoken explicitly, Eddie understood. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to keep bringing the conversation down. It’s just been a really long week.”

“I believe it,” He paused, “So how long are you going to be staying in town then?”

“I have no idea. Rumor is Grandma left me the house. And even if she did…. I’m sorry, I’ve been awake for almost 24 hours now, and driving for over 15 of them. I know you really don’t need to hear any of this.” 

You started to make your body as small as possible, hyper aware of how loudly you had been speaking, and how riled up you were getting. Your father would have hated to see it. But not Eddie. 

“No, keep going. Like I said, I’m nosey, and it sounds like you could use someone to talk to about this.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agreed nonchalantly, unaware how much it meant to you. 

“My grandma and I were really close before she moved. She didn’t get along with either of her sons, but she was the world to me as a kid. And my dad put up no effort to even reach out to her in the past decade, but he expects all of her stuff to be left to him, and my uncle wants the same. But my mom told me that one of them had reason to believe that she left it all to me. I don’t even know where they heard it, and don’t get me wrong, I’m not ungrateful, I promise. I just don’t know what to do about the two grown men that she apparently left out of the will if that’s true, and how mad they’re going to be at me.” 

“They wouldn’t be mad at you.” 

“You don’t know my dad,” you scoffed. You knew damn well that the man wasn’t afraid of throwing a tantrum, especially if it came to money. And he wouldn’t care if you were the one getting hurt in the process. 

“What would they have to be mad at you for though? For your Grandma loving you enough to leave you something to start your life on? How is that your fault?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s my fault, they just care that they get their share. If it’s left to me, I might as well just divvy it up before they say anything.”

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

“I just don’t want to have any issue with them.” 

“I’m sorry, that’s not fair to you.” 

“You really need to stop being so nice, you’re going to make me cry,” you chuckled, genuinely fighting back the tears as you spoke. 

“Sorry,” he chuckled back. He took a subject before continuing. “Have you seen the house? Like have you ever visited?”

“No, actually. Who knows, maybe it’s a real fixer upper and I’d be better off passing it on to my uncle,” you giggled, and that put the smile back on Eddie’s face. 

“If I didn’t mess up the address, it should just be in this next neighborhood.”

You kept saying that all you wanted was to get some rest after your long day, but now that you were talking to Eddie, you didn’t want the drive to end. The disappointment hit you like a rock as he pulled into the driveway of your grandmothers old house, but the feeling quickly turned to something else as you looked out the window to see the beautiful 2 story house with large trees on either side. 

“So much for the fixer upper theory,” Eddie said with a whistle, but you were speechless. This was much more than you had been anticipating, much nicer than you had spent your younger years picturing every time you missed your grandma. 

“You ok?” he asked after a moment of silence. 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just taking it in,” you chuckled nervously, still staring at the house. 

“Why don’t we get you inside?” He said, reaching in the back for your suitcase. You put a hand gently on his arm to stop him, and he looked up to see your nearly empty stare, still on the building in front of you. 

“Can you give me just a minute? I’m sorry, I know it’s late.” 

“No, it’s fine… Are you ok?”

“Yeah…Yeah, It just,” you trailed off for a moment, “I hadn’t seen her in years. Had no idea what her house looked like, or what she looked like anymore. I got letters, I got calls, but… Part of all this didn’t feel as real. Going in there, that’s real.” 

“Want me to come in with you?”

“No, that’s fine. I just need a second.” 

“Have you ever lost anyone before?”

You didn’t answer, just shook your head as you moved your eyes from the house to him. 

“Let me walk you in. You shouldn’t be alone for that.” 

You looked back at the house for a moment, took a deep breath, and nodded your head. 

Eddie carried your suitcase through the front door, and you both kicked off your shoes before stepping on the carpet. You took a deep breath before reaching for the light switch. Eddie sensed your hesitation as your fingers hovered. He took the opportunity to grab the fingers of your other hand. It gave you enough courage to turn on the light in the entry way. 

The furniture was mostly unfamiliar. You could see a few pieces in the living room that you had remembered from your childhood, and the sense of nostalgia calmed you. Eddie let you walk ahead of him, letting go of your hand as you ventured further into the room. Slowly but surely, you made your way to a wall on the other side of the room. It was covered in pictures, new and old, of your grandma with family and friends. You recognized yourself in plenty of them, but the newer ones were the ones that you couldn’t stop looking at. She looked so much older that you had remembered, but still had the youthful glow to her that you had attributed to her mischievousness. No matter how old she got, how wrinkled her face grew, or how gray her had and gotten, you still recognized her. Part of your heart began to ache for not knowing her as she was before she passed. It had been so long. 

You felt Eddie approach you from behind, and you expect him to say something nice, or encouraging. But he didn’t. He was surprisingly quiet. You turned to make sure he was alright, but he didn’t seem fine. He was staring at one of the photos on the wall, and he looked like he was about to be sick.

“Are you ok, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, still white as a sheet as he tore his eyes from the photo to look at you. He barely shot you a half smile before looking back up at the pictures. You took a step back to stand next to him. 

“I just remembered that she worked at the middle school when she moved here. Did you know her?”

“Yeah.”

“…Did you like her?” you tried asking after waiting for him to say anything more. 

“Yeah, she introduced me to my best friend.”

“Me too,” you smiled at the memory of your old pen pal. 

“Someone back home?”

“No, actually. I probably shouldn’t refer to him as that still. We haven’t spoken in… years actually.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, finally peeling his eyes away from the photos on the wall. 

He should have said more, but he didn’t know what else to say. This was her. He was in shock. The girl he had spent the last decade wondering about had wandered into his diner. His thoughts were moving a mile a minute, he felt like he could physically hear them, and it was hard to focus on anything you had possibly said. But luckily, you weren’t saying much. 

He followed you like a ghost as you explored the first floor of the house. You were happy you had arrived before anyone else. You had the chance to see the house how she had left it, how she had lived in it. It gave you a sense of closure you weren’t going to get otherwise, it felt as if you were getting a sense of knowing her once again. You were caught up in it until you saw a clock on the wall, reading nearly 5 am. Realization hit you that you were keeping Eddie, and a sense of guilt washed over you. You turned to find him, with a bit of color returned to his face. 

“It’s really late, I’m sorry I’ve kept you. You can go home if you’d like. I’m sure you want to get some rest too after your shift.” 

He took a second, before asking, “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” And you hesitated before nodding. 

“Honestly, the roads are pretty bad out there. I could stay on the couch, help you figure out your car in the morning. How does that sound?”

He way have been a complete stranger just hours ago, but you really did feel like you could trust him. So you smiled and nodded. 

“I’ll go find some blankets for you,” you smiled before disappearing up the stairs. Eddie didn’t expect you to come back for a while. You were bound to find your grandmothers bedroom and need to look around for a while. He made his way back to the living room while he waited. He stared at the wall again, but not in shock this time. Now that he knew was 24 year old you looked like, he desperately want to see what 12 year old you looked like. He found a picture near the middle of the wall, of a young girl smiling at the camera. It was the only photo on the wall without your grandmother in it. She had your eyes, had your smile, but most importantly, she actually looked like the drawing he had received all those years ago. You weren’t as bad of an artist as you’d thought. Eddie tried not to grow emotional staring at the photo. He only tore his eyes away from the picture of younger you when he heard you making your way back down the stairs.

Before you could reach Eddie, you paused by the window next to the back door, blankets in hand. The snow coated the back yard, reflecting the light from the back porch into the sky. You began to tear up, just as Eddie approached to take the blankets from you. He saw one of the first tears fall down your cheek, and quickly, but gently put an arm around you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just… Is this what it looks like every winter?” you asked, looking up at him with misty eyes. 

“For parts of it, yeah. Why?”

“Grandma loved the snow,” was all you could reply before looking back out at the yard. 

He contemplated it for a second, fought himself on whether or not this was the right moment to say it, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“I told you she’d like it here” 

A moment passed as you processed what he had said. You gasped quietly, quickly turning your head to face him. He looked nervous, as if he had just handed his heart to you on a platter, waiting to see if you would reject it. 

“Eddie?” you asked cautiously, and you both knew what the question really was. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, still nervous and unable to read what you were thinking. 

“You stopped writing,” was all you could get out before another tear dropped. 

“What?”

“Y-you stopped writing,” you repeated, beginning to choke on your breathes as you spoke. 

He nearly panicked as he tried to reply. 

“Y/n, w-what do you mean? I only stopped writing when you stopped replying.”

“Oh my god, it’s really you,” you couldn’t stop looking at him, another tear dropping down your cheek. Your exhaustion was exaggerating your emotions, but you may have felt the same regardless. You had waited 12 years for this moment. 

“Yeah. Why don’t we go sit down,” he smiled at you, before herding you towards the couch. 

“Y/n,” he spoke softly as he crouch in front of you, one hand resting on each of your knees as you sat on the couch, “What do you mean I stopped writing?”

“I sent you a letter, you never replied.”

“That’s impossible, I waiting for months to hear back from you. There’s no way I missed a letter from you.”

“No, I sent one, and I waited, but you never replied. You broke my heart Eds,” you quietly began to sob, filled with too many mixed emotions. 

Eddie quickly sat next to you on the couch and pulled you to his chest to comfort you the best he could, but he was still confused. He had checked his own mailbox, his neighbors mailboxes, other houses in town with the same street number as his trailer. This didn’t add up. He quietly shushed you as he thought. 

“What did the last letter say?” he asked as you began to calm down just slightly. He had half the collection of your letters memorized, but especially the first and last. He would know if he had read it if you described it. 

“It was before Freshman year, I told you how scared I was that all the kids were going to be mean. I was so afraid that I was going to get singled out for still having no friends, and I waited for months to hear back from you. But you never wrote back. You were my only friend, and you stopped writing.”

“No, sweetheart, I would never,” he sighed as his heart dropped. He got that letter, he replied to it. Which meant that she never got his last letter. Neither of them had stopped writing on purpose, they had both assumed the other had given up. But he had sent out one last letter that was unaccounted for.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me,” he gently guided you to look up at him, “I promise you, I wrote back. I don’t know what happened to it, but I never would have stopped writing like that. I thought you had just ignored my last letter.”

“You wrote,” you said quietly, and Eddie couldn’t tell if it was a question, or if you were trying to reassure yourself. 

“I did, I promise,” he whispered as he swept a tear off your cheek with his thumb. 

And though you still needed to know what happened to his letter, and you had had one of the longest days of your life, nothing mattered more to you in that moment than leaning in, slowly. You took a second, pausing right before reaching his lips so he could pull away if he wanted, but he didn’t. It was a quick kiss, but it was gentle and sweet. Eddie didn’t try to pull you in for another, but he didn’t want to part as you pulled away. 

It took him a second to open his eyes again, but when he did, he was smiling just as big as you. 

“You ok?” he asked for what must have been the hundredth time that night. But unlike every other time you had answered, this time you told him the truth. 

“I am now.”

(may or may not be already trying to figure out a part 2 for this, depending on if people like it <3 )

@embrace-themagic @fanficparker  @heartbeats-wildly @saturn-aka-six @calum-hoodwinked-me @peterplanet @mischiefmanaged49 @nicotine-sunshine820 @itsjusttor @emistrash @thenoddingbunny-blog @sovereignparker @raajali3 @eddielives1986 @eddieswifu @chickpeadumpsterfire @fluffybunnyu @panagiasikelia @canthavetoomuchchaos @whenshelanded @starlitlakes @witchwolflea @ali-r3n @g0thdraculaura @celestcies

[rhenuvee]

Table for Two [Alhaitham x reader]

Summary: Alhaitham receives a love letter from you, and after reading your words he tries to find you, except you seem a little shy to come face to face with him...

Warnings, A/N: reader is gn and portrayed as shy/anxious, this was written on a whim because I literally had a dream about this... ANYWAY-

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

"Hi, um- excuse me... Alhaitham?"

You have just entered the cafe where he would be relaxing while drinking his coffee. Alhaitham feels a light tap on his shoulder, and he looks up from his book. He sees you; a familiar Akademiya student by your attire, and nervous from the way you're avoiding eye contact (but still trying to maintain it) and the slight quiver of your lips.

Oh how you wish you could just disintegrate right here and now. You've been harboring a bit of a crush on the Scribe, or Acting Grand Sage now. It's a bit silly when you think of it, though... because you most definitely are catching feelings over miniscule things that Alhaitham probably doesn't bat an eye to.

The word "crush - romantically " doesn't exactly exist in an Akademiya student's vocabulary. If anything, that word would be used to describe what they wish a giant boulder would do to them before an exam.

You were working with other Ksharewar students on a project, when the renowned architect Kaveh came by to give suggestions. A while later, Alhaitham came by and it didn't take long for them to start bickering. Nonetheless, you and the other students continued to work on your parts. It wasn't until a shadow was looming over you, and by the shape of the cape you started sweating, already knowing who it was.

"Did you make this?" Alhaitham says while crouching down to your level to meet your gaze. Your eyes widened, being so close to the Scribe (who not to mention, is quite good looking as well).

"Yes... right now we're testing different methods of insulation since the location in Sumeru is closer to Fontaine, so the air is more moist..." You try to give a confident answer, while Alhaitham has a thinking face.

"Hmm, I'll admit this is impressive." The Scribe says quietly. Your heart fluttered at the compliment, even if it was directed to the whole group, but it made you glad that Alhaitham is not as stoic as he is said to be. It wasn't long until a voice interrupted your thoughts.

"What was that Alhaitham? Speak up I couldn't hear you." Kaveh says with his arms crossed. It seems he secretly heard the comment Alhaitham said and wanted him to admit this project he was leading was good. Alhaitham stands up and leaves to bicker with Kaveh some more.

"The only reason you can't hear me is because of all that hammering you do every night."

"Why- you!"

And a few days after that, you leave the Akademiya to go to the nearest river to dunk one of your industrial projects to cool it down. Suddenly you take notice of a figure sitting nearby, which turns out to be Alhaitham when you give him a second glance. To your surprise, he looks up from his book and gives you a small wave. The Scribe? Waving? At you? Clearly Teyvat is an upside-down world. You ended up awkardly waving back, then realizing how embarrassing it was wearing all your safety gear from before and being covered in dirt.

He looks at you and points at his forehead. Forehead? What? You look at him confusedly until he beckons you to come over and you do. He stands up, leaving his book opened on the ground. Then he reaches his hand towards your forehead and brushes some scraps that have been dusted onto your hair.

“You’ve got wood dust on your hair. You must have been working hard.” he says casually. You are taken aback again as he says something you never thought he would, and you manage to utter out an “I guess so” and “thank you” before he has a small conversation with you, then both of you going back to what you were doing.

Point is, there have been interactions with him like these in the past few weeks have been making you all lovey dovey. You’re hoping that Alhaitham will at least be willing to go somewhere with you even if he doesn’t return your feelings.

"Thank you, I'll... take a look at it." Alhaitham says with a slight suspicion in his voice. You nod and quickly run to exit the cafe. Oh god oh god oh god… you may just have to pay a visit to the statue of the seven to pray to Lesser Lord Kusanali to summon something to eat you alive. Oh but as if that would help you. Even in the afterlife it would come haunting. What were you thinking?

“Wait.” Alhaitham calls out and you stop in your tracks and look back. “You’re (y/n), right?” You nod slowly, then he nods signalling he’s got your confirmation and you scurry out the cafe and quickly to your next class.

To be honest, Alhaitham was confused when he saw you approach him and give him a letter, sealed and signed and everything… a bit fancy for an essay isn’t it? He finishes his coffee quickly, pays his bill and goes on a walk around Sumeru to read it.

Dear Alhaitham…? Soon enough, he realizes it’s not an essay you wanted him to review. He reads through your words and can sense how you were probably nervous to write your feelings out.

Suddenly he sees Kaveh approaching him who has an insult ready to hurl at him. After reading the letter, he makes a note to quickly find you to respond. But first, he had to get away from his roommate.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

More than half the day has gone by and you’ve been on edge the whole time. You were shuffling so fast between classes, it probably looked idiotic from other people’s point of view.

“Hey are you okay?” Your friend whispers who is sitting beside you. You clear your throat before answering.

“Yeah… why?”

“You seem tense… but I think I know why.” Oh no, has your friend found out about your love letter to Alhaitham?! “It’s because the Scribe has been looking for you.” What?

“The- looking for me?” You say in shock.

“Yeah, I’ve seen him going around and asking students if they’ve seen you.” This sends you into a panic as it gets you thinking about the possibilities. He is probably going to reject you right? And with his piercing glare and cold tone. The thought of this makes you zoom out of your last class once it was dismissed, knowing the Scribe was looking for you.

“(Y/n).” You stop like a deer in headlights, and see Alhaitham standing outside near the one of the Akademiya walls, with your letter opened in hand.

“Al-Alhaitham!” You blurted out.

“I read your letter.” He says flatly, and it sucks because you wish you could tell how he’s feeling by his tone. “And I'm flattered. I appreciate your courage for telling me this. If I’m being honest, I enjoy your company as well. You are one of the few people who is able to talk to me normally.”

What does this mean? Is he friend-zoning you? Did he not understand your message?

“If you’re free now, we can go to Puspa Cafe, my treat.” At first your mouth falls at an O-shape, shocked that he's inviting you for a meal. (You wrote the letter expecting good things, smart one!) His offer still makes you unsure whether he meant this as a platonic thing, but nonetheless you smile and nod your head eagerly. Your assignments and projects can wait.

“Hold on…” Alhaitham says before you both set off to eat together. He bends down to your height and his right hand brushes the side of your face- a familiar feeling like that one time. But it’s different this time, because he leans closer and gives you a soft kiss on the cheek. You blush and he pulls away a little, enough for him to get a full glimpse of your face and look in your eyes. You don't think friends do this.

“I understand I’m still a little intimidating to you, so that’ll have to do for now.” He says quietly. With the warmth, still in your skin, you nod shyly and Alhaitham gives what you think is the slightest smile, pats your cheek and pulls away completely. He offers his hand out, and you put your hand in his. Then he closes it, his large hand engulfing yours, and leads you to Puspa Cafe.

“Ah Acting Grand Sage, come for your usual coffee?” The manager of the cafe calls out to him as you both enter.

“Thank you, but not this time.” There’s a pause, in which he takes to look at you while he says this. “Table for two please.”

And oh, how that makes your heart flutter even if it was a small thing. You could only wonder what would happen after the “for now” Alhaitham said.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Bonus:

“Well how was it, did you give them that winning smile I told you to give?” Kaveh asks while lounging on one of the seats as his roommate comes through the door, letter still in hand.

“No.”

“…you- do you even like this person?! This student has either got to be the most boring or the most charitable and tolerant to like you.” Kaveh is having a crisis over Alhaitham’s lack of romantic behaviour, especially now when it’s necessary.

When the architect ran into the Scribe earlier today, he got excited and thought he’d be nice and help him respond to this admirer. However to Alhaitham, Kaveh’s instructions probably sounded more like blabber, because he couldn’t bother to listen to him.

"Did you at least say something romantic? Oh- Archons, Alhaitham. You really know how to woo someone don't you?" Kaveh says sarcastically to express his disappointment. “Can you at least tell me their name? Or what they look like? Because I want to find them and tell them how stupid you looked pacing around the Akademiya today asking students if they’ve seen them.” Kaveh snickers to himself.

"Even if you did approach them, I doubt they'd respond to a weirdo like you. They're too smart for that."

"You're one to talk!"

However, Kaveh stops shooting the many quips he has prepared for Alhaitham being dense once he catches the slight pink dusting his roommate’s cheeks before entering his study. He'll most likely find out himself sooner or later.

Plus, he can’t deny he loves a good romance, even if one of the characters is his hopeless, stubborn, and aloof roommate.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Part 2??? Update: Part 2 here!!!

Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this, and follow me if you'd like to see more of my works!

[seraphicsage]

Hi!

If you haven't already written one x fem!reader fic with Colin with the "I miss you" scene from one of the teasers, could you do one then and have him call on her in a few days groveling or smth like that.

Anyway, no pressure to write it

A/N i’ve been fantasising about this since the teaser came out, absolutely I will write this thank you very much for the request!!

Spiteful

“The truth is, I miss you y/n.” He says, towering over me, it makes me scoff and roll my eyes. In truth, there is a part of me that wants to just give in and forget what happened, but the bigger -and more spiteful- part of me isn’t going to let that happen.

“You miss me but you would not court me is that correct?” I snap back, watching as it takes him by surprise and he looks at me confused. “I heard you at the end of last season, at my mama’s ball, saying you would never court Y/F/N.” Now he looks regretful but I’m taking none of it, I’ve had enough of being treated this way by him and the rest of the ton. “I am the laughing stock of entire ton no matter what lengths I take, it just never occurred to me that you, of all people, could be so cruel.” I practically snarl, something I never thought I was capable of, before turning and walking off to my carriage to take me back home.

I spent the next day as expected, waiting around for all of zero suitors to call on me. This season is shaping up to be just as the last, no prospects whatsoever. Looks like I will be a spinster as Cressida always said. I really had hoped to prove her wrong.

I didn’t even bother preparing myself for a potential suitor calling on me the day after, I knew it was pointless. I saw the lines of men pouring out of the houses surrounding mine, the most exciting part of my day was when breakfast was served. What? We have a great cook.

It’s the late afternoon now and I’m playing a game of chess with my papa, I’ve much improved recently and it looks like I might even win this time. Then I’m told I have a visitor, and my mama gets much too overexcited. I insist it is probably just a friend, a suitor would not come this late in the day surely?

Colin Bridgerton. Stood in my hall, looking like a puppy that’s been kicked rather brutally. Perhaps he feels like he has. He asks to take me to promenade and insists that he has brought his own chaperone. Honestly I think he’s acting rather strange. He had his opportunity to stop playing the pitying friend so why didn’t he take it? Why is he here?

He leads me to his carriage and, the gentleman he is, helps me inside. When we’re in the carriage I quickly realise that there is no chaperone. “I know how this looks but I swear I mean nothing untoward.” I level him with a glare, waiting for some kind of explanation for hiding wildly inappropriate behaviour. “I needed to talk to you in private and this was the only way. I- I need to apologise. I was wrong at your mama’s ball, I shouldn’t have been so cruel. It was unfair and- and it wasn’t because I think badly of you.” I raise an eyebrow, wanting to interrupt his ramblings but allowing him to continue. “I spent all of yesterday pacing around trying to figure out why I did it, why did I act that rash and respond the way I did. And I figured it out!” He looks at me almost excitedly. I gesture for him to continue.

“Go on then, why did you say what you did?” I ask flatly.

“Because they were right! Or at least I wanted them to be. Y/n I would be lucky if you allowed me to court you, I just had no idea that that was even what I wanted. The whole summer I was away I was consumed with thoughts of you. Every letter I wrote to you I prayed that you would respond, every day I didn’t receive a letter from you my heart would ache, and I had no idea as to why. Why it felt as though my very soul was missing you, needing you. I tried to ignore it, convincing myself I was merely homesick.” He scoffs at himself, he’s so far forward he’s barely on his seat anymore. “I have never wished to be home the way I have wished to be with you. You took over every part of my life, so much so it was inescapable, and truly, it became addictive.” He stares me dead in the eyes now and takes my hands in his. When did I stop breathing? “I know I have been cruel, I know I am not deserving of your forgiveness, let alone your love, but I beg you. I beg you take pity on me, let me try to make it up to you. I would give you the world if you asked for it, I would grovel at your feet in front of the entire ton if that is what you wished, you’ve become my reason to breathe, my reason to live, my everything. I could not carry on knowing I had hurt you so without paying penance for what I’ve done. Please, allow me to make it up to you.”

A pull in what air I can manage, trying to stop the tears streaming down my eyes. Even the most spiteful parts of my mind do not speak. Only a small part of my mind, one I have pressed down for many a year now whispers, ‘kiss him’. But I won’t, I won’t take that risk. What I do do though, is squeeze his hands gently. I try to muster up some kind of coherent sentence but I don’t think anyone could after that. I nod. “Okay.” He looks almost shocked, as if he didn’t just recite the most beautiful love confession I’ve ever heard to me. “Just, take it slow, okay?” I manage to get out.

He laughs, triumphantly, and squeezes my hand even tighter, thanking me far too much and swearing he will be the best suitor ever known. I believe him.

He does take me promenading, his mama chaperoning. It’s one of the nicest days I have. Now a part of me is really glad that the spiteful part of my mind couldn’t let it go.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Dear John | Part 2

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways. Right? Right.

Warnings: suggestive language, crass vocabulary, the vintage form of sexting -honestly this is mostly fluffy in reply to his more overt letter

Author’s note: after episode four I’ve got feelings and fics for this universe that are far ahead of these establishing pieces. So I’ve gone ahead and tossed this preliminary one out but I may very well skip around and ahead to October next. At least now y’all know: she wrote him back. Hehe. If it’s of interest, I’ll probably end up writing John’s reaction to receiving this response as well as Gale’s response to realizing his friend actually went and sent that awful thing.

Date: Early August, 1943

Dear John, (I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to)

Thank you for your kind letter of the 18th. It’s been many years since I received so delightful a correspondence or so candid an expression of admiration. And you should know I keep most of the letters the sweet people of this country send me. They’re stacked in quite an orderly fashion in my various garages, kept for the rainy days to peruse and keep the blues away and also so I might try very hard to reply. I don’t take such affection for granted. It’s humbling really, always has been, to be so loved by folks but it’s another level entirely to be singled out by someone as brave and impressive as yourself.

I found your letter to be heartfelt and wonderfully brave and in an effort to be equally transparent, you should know that when I finished it I clutched it to my breast and whispered half a dozen prayers for you. Or as you might say, I held it to my knockers.

That’s an awful word, you must know that Major.

As is “rack”, for that matter, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion that you would make it sound charming as even your blotted paper was electric. How could you dare to praise my film set flapjacks and mention making babies? I’m fizzing just glancing at it. You really must be quite the fella and I’m terribly sad now that our rendezvous, such as you say it was, got cut short. You must reprimand your friend -Buck, is it?- and tell him he did an bad deed that night. There’s nothing I like better than duets and hamburgers, we might’ve been one of the great loves by now if he hadn’t meddled. But don’t be too hard on him, if he’s the sort to take it well, kiss him for me, after you chide him.

But since we are being honest, I must admit, reading your letter, being privy to your thoughts, seeing myself through your eyes as it were - dear man, I feel rather riled. Quite riled, in fact. Why, I haven’t felt riled in a while, not like this. Not like an ordinary girl with an extraordinary boy. Do you know what I mean?

Maybe you don’t.

I mean regular, old fashioned flustered. That’s what you’ve made me. And thank you for that, John. Can I call you Johnny? I wonder if you’re the nickname sort, or if you’re real stern and serious, a real John-John. Not a Johnny at all. But either way, I think you deserve a treat, for being so nice, Major Egan. For reminding me I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists before a show -and for all you’re doing in the war, besides. There seems to be no safer hands to trust this to, you do seem so very fond of them, I am led to believe you’d be protective of them, too.

Enclosed is something for the personal morale, I hope you’ll think of me nightly with it at hand, in fact, I’m so excited about it I’ve taken this ill advised measure to insure you do. I’d very much like a report, do they live up to your expectations? They’re homegrown, after all, I hadn’t much say in them but now I’ve got them, I don’t see why they shouldn’t do their bit to keep you alive. A small sacrifice.

One of those reasons you mentioned, John, you’ve so many of them, more than you know. A million souls over here rooting you on, insisting you make it out the other side.

I’m forefront among them, I’ll be scanning the crowd when I come to Europe -because I will, at your invitation. Perhaps if you send me a picture of your own mug I won’t be looking a fool asking every man in uniform if I remind them of an acorn. Are you going to tell me what on earth that means? I’ve tried to work it out but I always end up with some mathematical conundrum and I just know in my heart of hearts you wouldn’t let me down like that, would you Major? It’s something awfully salacious, isn’t it? Please let it be!

I’m a vain little thing and I can’t deny the way this poor heart of mine is all pitter pattering at the thought of you being so awful while also so nice. It’s a strange blend, and rather like my coke, I do prefer my men mixed.

Best wishes, may you have cloudless skies and fresh coffee to your heart's content. My sources -and I’ve excellent ones, an upside of working the war bond circuit- tell me you’re airforce. I think that’s remarkable and I hope you give that picture some thought. Mine, and yours.

Your vain little friend,

Julia Jean Turner

P.S.-I’m only ever ‘The Lana Tierney ‘ to strangers, and we aren’t strangers now, are we? not if you’re to take my picture to your bunk. i suspect you may have already taken that liberty. who’s to say I did not take similar liberties upon reading certain stirring passages of your letter? Xx 💋

__insert vintage titty pic__

Whew this week was a doozy wasn’t it? Here’s some fluff for those of y’all who needed it, and I can promise angst soon for those who want to stay in the soul shattering mood. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, let me hear your screams.

Drop a comment to let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my MOTA fics. Xo

Taglist:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

[empressgetou]

A LIFETIME

shinichiro x girlfriend reader

at the age of 25, shinichiro still feels like a highschooler whenever he's around y/n. he gets shy by the thought of her and sweats like buckets when she's near him. can y/n really blame him though, she is his greatest love or what he says.

today, however is just a bit extra for shin, he had thought about it for days. he thinks it's finally time for him to man up finally and propose to his one true love after all these years of being a wimp.

he couldn't even understand himself why he still feels this way towards her, they have known each other when they were still little kids and yet his feelings is just as the way it was since then. he was just too whipped.

it was any normal day in highschool, shin with his 3 trusted friends and y/n currently having their lunch at the rooftop.

"i'm definitely gonna ask that girl on a date in the other class." shin decided to break the glass earning snickers from his friends while y/n just listened to their conversation.

"that's literally the 20th girl you've tried to date over our highschool years. there's no way she's even going to talk to you." waka jumps into conclusion.

"one more strike and you're out man." takeomi added.

"graduation is just around the corner shin, who knows maybe after this, that girl s'gonna go somewhere far away or something, you never know." benkei reasoned.

"somewhere far away from him that's for sure." again, waka teased his friend and they all laughed again earning a pout from their leader.

"yeah, you laugh your hearts out idiots. i'm gonna be laughing at your face once she says yes. and besides i'm pretty confident about this one. just the other day, i saw a letter at my locker and i tell you man, she was their looking at me holding the letter. i'm sure it was her." that made y/n stiffened but pretended to be normal still eating her lunch.

"just because you saw her doesn't mean it was actually her who wrote you the letter."

"besides since when did you get letters anyway???"

"you guys are too much for me. leave a man and his future love blossom be alright? and duh it's not only you who receives letter waka!"

"so, where'd ya wanna go after shin?"

"ahh... sorry y/n i thought well maybe you should go home first?"

"hmm, why– oh you guys having a meeting? i could wait for you."

"uhmm actually i was going to meet maya, you're classmate, who sent me letters, you remember?"

yeah, no that wasn't maya who sent the letters. she thought.

little to shinichiro's knowing, those letters were actually from y/n. well y/n isn't going to tell him that sooner, she just recently realized that she have feelings for his best friend. for years of being in denial, she finally accepted how she truly feels. but like an idiot he is, he thought it was someone else's letter of confession for him.

"uhuh yeah that girl hehe. okay, i'll see you later?"

"uhmm then after that i'm also having a meeting with the guys, sooo tomorrow?" he sheepishly said rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh yeah it's cool. it's the weekend anyway, i'll bring dorayaki for manjirou." she says sweetly and bid her goodbyes.

"you can take care of yourself on the way home right?" he asked worriedly and catches up to her holding her elbows that sparked her heart with the sudden touch.

"mmm yeah, i'll be fine. s'not like i'm gonna get in trouble while walking or anything." they both laughed.

"sure. i'll see you tomorrow. text me when you got home, sweet!"

"i will! and tell me all about your date after!"

y/n went to get ice cream before she sulked into her bedroom at home and when she's about to turn into their street she heard some thugs calling out to her.

"hey you!" she whipped her head to where the noises of bikes came from.

"you're with that black dragons leader?" asked the man who seems to be annoyed and is with a few bunch of men behind him giving lustful looks that made y/n cringe at that sight.

is he tryin to insult me? if i were shin's girlfriend, i wouldve cried myself out every time. she thought pasting an annoyed look to the guy.

"yeah no, if i were, i would've told everybody i met on the streets"

"fiesty one eh, boys? that's what we like, a little challenge." they all snickered.

she was about to go on her way when she was pulled back suddenly by the man making her look up to him.

"it's best if you release me before i do something unbearable to you." making her glare at him and made the men bursted into laughter as if they were being threatened by a kitten.

he was about tighten his grip onto her when a loud roar of engine was heard and stopped right in front of them.

she saw a familiarity of the wheels and a figure of a man, who looks exactly like her in male version, got out of it making her sigh thinking it'll be a full of scolding later back at their home.

"why don't you scumbags scram before i crack your heads?"

the man holding the woman seemed to saw the tattoo by the neck of the man who just parked.

"it's a red spider lily gang." whispered the other men at the back.

"let's go." he unhanded his grip onto the woman and ran to his bike and drove away without looking back.

when they were out of sight y/n look back at him again only to see meet his glare towards her.

"get in the car." said the man, his brother called out and without any other word she went inside and went home.

the next day, y/n found herself walking up to her neighbors house. holding a few snacks which is mostly dorayaki and few strawberry flavored juices for the kids, specially mikey since he's a hungry kid.

stepping up inside their gates she heard a few voices by the dojo hall, she then went straight ahead and jirou, keisuke, and emma already seeing her figure making them shout.

"y/n you're here!"

"hiii y/n!"

"y/n did you bring dorayaki?"

she smiled and greeted the kids back as well as grampa who is busy teaching the other kids.

"is shin here?" she asked curiously not seeing the teen inside the dojo.

"he's probably in the garage again ditching my class." grampa grumbled.

she bid them goodbye as soon as possible since she doesn't want to bother their class and went to the garage. nearing the location she can already hear a frustrated clanking of the tools.

"keep that up and you're gonna ruin it." her sudden voice was heard making shin jump to surprise and whipping his head at the back making y/n giggle.

ah that laugh. he thought.

"watcha doing?" leaning to his side a little too close making shinichiro a but weird to his feeling.

"a-ah. you know just tampering here and there hehe." rubbing his nape

"or maybe sulking?" she teases.

"hey! yesterday was actually embarrassing you know! she told me it wasn't even her who sent me those letters."

"maybe because it was actually another person and you just assumed it was her." she suggested.

silence.

"are you suggesting that you knew who sent me those?"

"well i kinda have an idea who might be."

he stopped working and raises his head towards her urging her to continue.

"it was. it was me." she whispered so quietly just enough for the both of them could hear.

and now 7 years have gone by and shinichiro and y/n's relationship had never been better. emma, baji, and manjirou are already in highschool and has formed a gang, and their friends come by at their house every time.

he also met izana along the way and convinced him to stay and is now living with them for almost 3 years now. shin already retired from being a black dragon's leader but is still famous and well respected around. he already put up his motorcycle shop just around the block and is doing pretty good.

shinichiro would initiate to have a day out or a trip to the beach once every month and ends up everyone going with them. the girls are pretty close with y/n considering the girls either don't have an older sister, is the only girl or the youngest in their families. the boys too are head over heels for her making shin envy most of the time since she give attention more to the high school kids rather than him.

it's true that it was stressing managing to have a day out since y/n has to take care of some babies with him (mainly shinichiro ft. manjirou and izana bantering every now and then) but at the end of the day she would be looking at them happily and delightedly since they get to bond with everyone.

now back to their house, everyone is excited. emma and hinata are in charge of the food in the kitchen. yuzuha, senju, luna, and mana on the decorations.

mitsuya and draken on the grill outside and the others are just being a nuisance honestly. rindou on the other side of the house preparing for the music to be played later while his brother and their friends tryna distract him.

takeomi, waka, and benkei already started their drinking session but not too much for them to get drunk for later's main event.

shinichiro already instructed baji and was on his was to fetch y/n from the mall around 10 minutes ago. baji was told to act as if izana and mikey fighting again and ruined their beloved kitchen that made y/n worry.

shin looking at his surrounding seeing everyone having fun and getting ready for everything they needed swells his heart. he had been preparing for her birthday, he wouldn't let anything ruin this perfect day now. all he has to do now is actually prepare himself.

hearing a loud roar of engine signals baji and y/n's arrival making everyone stop what they were doing and going into their places switching off all the lights.

manjirou and izana can be seen outside because of the moon's shining, holding each others neck as if they were to kill each other at any point.

"guys seriously, i don't wanna deal with this right now. why don't we head inside and sort this out." y/n already annoyed and separated the two and proceeds inside the house.

darkness was the first thing she sees and nagged the three boys again.

"if the kitchen were burning why did you actually even bother to switch the light off and where's grampa?" already smelling the burnt food that emma had to prepare to make it believable.

she was about to flip the switch on when they all shouted.

"happy birthday y/n!!!"

"surprise!!!"

shock was all over her face and before she could utter a word, luna and mana already walking towards her with a cake in their hands that says, "happy birthday and congratulations y/n and shin!" that made her confused.

"huh?" looking around for her lover who was already kneeling behind her. surprised and her eyes are on the verge of tears at this point.

"make sure you make it short! we're already starving here!" manjirou butted in that made everyone laughing while shinichiro just ignored not letting him ruin his mood and proceeded his speech.

"to be honest, i'm really nervous that i already forgot what was i supposed to say here." staring into her eyes that earned a few chuckle from her and the others.

"y/n i never would've thought that my best friend since i was a kid would end up being my girlfriend as of today. i was always looking for a missing piece not knowing it was you all along that completes me. i'm thankful for you, for being there for me, by my side, supporting me, and helping me whenever i need. for always patching me up whenever i'm covered in bruises, but you scolding me is much more painful than those bruises i earned. y/n you are the love of my life, and because of you, you made my life a living fairy tale in this world full of nightmares and i'm talking about those two boys." he stopped for a moment and looked at his two brothers and they all snickered.

"y/n i promise to love you a bit more every single day of my life and take care of you and our family. it sounds cliché, but i want to spend the rest of my sunrise and sunsets with you, if you'd let me... y/n, sweetheart, the love of my life. will you mar-"

"yess!!! oh my god yesss!!" she hugged him while he was still kneeling making them plop down.

"you didn't even let me finished" they both laughed.

"i couldn't wait any longer. i will marry you shin." she smiled so sweetly and shinichiro insert the ring that fitted perfectly into her finger.

everyone clapped, shouted congratulations to the couple and confetti's popped all over the places. she look all over the place and saw grandpa sano and y/n's family in the back also mingling and clapping for both of them.

the three teenage sano's went forward and hugged them both tight congratulating and teasing their older brother making y/n laughed.

they both sure do have a lifetime to spend this fairy tale of a life with their little nightmares.

masterlist

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

A flame for going home.

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

______________________________________

A/N: This thought invaded my mind this morning and I couldn't function until I wrote it down.

I should work on other things but this was everything I could think about the whole day.

Join the taglist here

Word count: 1.2K

Pairing: Jake x female!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ONLY, graphic sexual content, oral (f!receiving).

Summary: Frustrated Jake needs you more than he needs air.

________________________________

It was the middle of the night when he finally came home.

The alarm clock on your bedside table signaled it was 3:25 AM.

And oh, you could tell he was pissed.

But you already knew that.

You knew that because, when you had texted him asking if he was coming home for dinner, he had replied with a single word.

No.

Usually, he never replied like that.

His love for unusual eccentric words often translated into long elaborated texts that sounded more like intricate handwritten letters from a lost time than quick words that traveled through the ether at the speed of the light.

This time it was different.

And, of course, you knew better than pissing him off even further by calling him.

You knew he wouldn't answer anyway.

So you ate what you had cooked alone and put his portions in the fridge, ready to be reheated for him when he finally came home.

Hours upon hours in the studio often resulted in him coming home frustrated beyond belief, often upset with himself or his brothers because something hadn't turned out as perfectly as they wished. So you didn't worry too much about it.

You had settled up everything for a relaxing bath for him too, in hopes to soothe his sleep.

He always had so much trouble sleeping when he was frustrated like that, even if he was really tired.

A hot bath usually calmed his nerves and helped him lull himself to sleep.

The sound of the front door slamming shut was what roused you from your slumber, along with a loud thud, probably caused by his guitar case being abandoned rather violently on the entrance floor.

You swore to yourself you'd stay awake to wait for him, but sleep had the best on you.

You heard him make his way up the stairs without a single word.

You tried to untangle yourself from the mess of blankets to stand and greet him with a sweet kiss.

You managed to sit on the edge of the bed but before you could stand he was already by the door.

Even in the low light of the room you could see that his jaw was set, his mouth a straight line.

“Hey baby, how are you? Dinner is in the fridge, let me get it ready for you.” You said, slowly peeling the covers from your body, your voice raspy and filled with sleep.

“I don't need that right now” he said, his voice was so razor sharp and harsh that you felt a pang of hurt in your chest.

He moved. His long strides brought him closer in a second. His sulken eyes rounded by dark circles pierced your soul and made you shiver.

You saw as his eyes darkened even more as his gaze traveled to your exposed legs.

Your heartbeat picked up.

Suddenly he dropped to his knees right in front of you using the covers that had slipped off the bed as a pillow and buried his face in your lap, inhaling deeply and holding his breath for a few seconds.

The sudden contact of his freezing skin with the hot one of your bare thighs made you gasp and shiver. Your hands buried into his hair and started massaging his scalp.

His hands grasped your hips and squeezed them so tightly you were sure he was leaving marks in their wake.

He tugged you swiftly towards the edge of the bed and his deft fingers hooked into your panties.

Then his eyes met yours from below silently, pleading with you to end his misery, pupils blown out and lips swollen from a day of biting and torturing the skin there waiting for this moment that had seemed every second farther from his grasp.

You knew what he was asking you and you nodded.

He needed it.

As soon as you nodded your head, he tugged at the fabric of your underwear, bringing it down your legs at record speed.

When his tongue finally made contact with the warmth between your legs, he groaned loudly and you gasped.

His hands tightened on your hips as he brought his face impossibly closer to you, inhaling deeply and humming at your taste. Your hands tightened in his hair.

“Jake” you whispered but he didn't separate from you. If possible, he pushed himself even further against you.

You didn't know how he managed to breath, but in all honesty it looked like breathing was the last thing on his mind at that moment.

His warm tongue never ceased to stroke your heat, paying close attention to your clit and drawing mindless shapes against and around it.

The hint of his mustache was driving you crazy.

The whimpers leaving your lips mirrored the little breathy moans and groans he let out against your damp skin.

When his scorching hot tongue slipped inside of you and his blunt nails dug into your skin, you came with a sweet tired chant of his name on your lips.

But he didn't stop.

His eyes flicked briefly upwards but he didn't even come up for air.

He delved right back in with no other care in the world that wasn't to feel you, taste you and breathe you in for the rest of his life.

Your body fell backwards on the bed and he moved closer. He moaned softly against your skin as your legs instinctively closed around his head, the vibrations of it making your back arch and your grip in his hair tighten.

You couldn't see it but his eyes rolled back the more you tugged at his hair and the more your cunt gushed for him. He drank you in relentlessly like he was trying to quench a never ending thirst.

He gifted you three orgasms that night, one more mind blowing than the last.

Then when he had had enough and you were trembling and had tears of pleasure streaking your cheeks, he slumped on the bed and wrapped you in a much awaited hug, breathing heavily.

“I needed that so bad, angel. Thank you” he whispered against your neck.

You didn't have words to answer him. His talented tongue and mouth had erased every little bit of sanity you still possessed.

You simply kissed him and tried to fix his disheveled hair.

An indefinite amount of time later you detangled yourself from him with a quick peck on his lips and a smile that he mirrored. You slowly made your way downstairs on wobbly legs, ignoring his grumbling about staying there with him.

You got him some snacks and a bottle of water and returned upstairs.

When you rounded the corner and entered the bedroom you were met with Jake’s sleeping form sprawled underneath the covers, his breathing deep and even and his face buried in your pillow.

He had the most beautiful and peaceful smile on his face as he slept soundly with your sweet taste still on his lips.

_________________________

Taglist: @gvfpal @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jessicafg03 @doodle417 @hellowgoodbye @ejoygvf @jaketlover @jakekiszkasbabymama @objectsinspvce @indigostreakmorgan @witchofendora @myleftsock @gretavanshmeat @gretasfallingsky @giraffehippy @jennasometimesreads @katiegvf @sinarainbows @laney_gvf @themorningbirds @starcatcherchords @lipstickitty @meetingthestardust @joshskittytickler @livkiszka @twistedmelodies @ignite-my-fire @gvfmarge @writingcold @brujamagik

[mariaofdoranelle]

Stay a Little Longer - part 4

Fic masterlist

Written for @tomtenadia for our Rowaelin secret Santa

Guys… I can’t believe I’m saying this but… I don’t think I’ll be able to update this fic (or any other) until next year 😔

Heheheheh Happy New Year y’all!! 🥳✨

Warnings: idiots in love

Words: 3,2k

TWO MONTHS LATER

Aelin received her last letter from her mother yesterday.

In a week, she’d be getting on a boat with Aedion and the few guards and servants that followed along by her parents’ demand.

Weirdly enough, as much as she loved her home, Aelin didn’t anticipate this moment as she thought she would—it felt like an eternity when she settled on a three-month trip, and now it felt like not enough time.

It hurt to think of the reason why.

Aelin sighed, willing her body to melt on the bath water she heated herself. The taut support she rested on was as comfortable as ever, though Rowan’s body wasn’t exactly pillow-like.

He he drew her closer with one arm around her waist, water sloshing around the bathtub. Aelin leaned the back of her head against his shoulder and sighed.

“You’re worried,” he said. Not a question.

“I think we should join the others soon,” she lied.

There was no such thing as hiding a lover among the Fae. They’d never acted on their affections in public—he’d been flying in and out of her window to avoid the sentries outside her door—but every creature with Fae blood in this castle could scent Rowan in Aelin and vice-versa.

“And you haven’t thought about what I said last night?”

Looks like Rowan had his mind on the same things.

He continued, “You should stay another season. What’s there to do when Orynth gets buried under snow, anyway?”

She chuckled. “I’m a crown princess. I can’t disappear for half a year to gorgeous-Fae-prince-land.”

Rowan grunted and wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, his chin on top of her head.

Aelin pointed at their breakfast tray. “Would you…?”

He absentmindedly levitated a croissant from their breakfast tray nearby, and Aelin heated her hand until it was dry to catch it.

She pouted. “This wasn’t the one I wanted.”

He chuckled, already knowing what she meant. Aelin heated the croissant for him and dried his fingers when he extended his hand.

Rowan wasn’t a pastry devotee like Aelin, but he always appreciated the food she handed him.

Once the simplest of croissants had a proper owner, Aelin demanded the croissant she was meant to have—one of the few stuffed with chocolate hazelnut ones.

“Any plans for the day?” she asked.

“Fenrys requested my company today.”

“Oh?” Aelin twisted her body to face him as much as she could. “What are you two up to?”

The stillness of her heartbeat was as far as she’d let her apprehension go. Aelin liked Fenrys, but he was a known rake and a wild card. Rowan had never came back with someone else’s scent, and they haven’t discussed the nature of their relationship, but—

“But” nothing. They haven’t discussed it, and they wouldn’t now, one week before she parted.

Two months ago, having any claim on Rowan was the last thing she wanted.

But two months is quite some time, isn’t it?

“I didn’t ask,” Rowan replied. “He’d convince me to go either way, and I don’t wanna torture myself with the knowledge beforehand.”

Aelin nodded. She leaned her body on his further and toyed with his fingers. Slid her thumb along the palm of her hand.

Would she ever feel ready to test if they were carranam? Because they were certainly something, and Aelin’s mind was endlessly wavering, torn between both options.

It certainly wasn’t both. The likelihood of having one of these bonds was incredibly low—both, between the same creatures, with one of them being demi-Fae was downright impossible. No sane Fae would consider such a thing.

Rowan kissed the crown of her head. “I’ve lost you to your thoughts again.”

“Do you still think we’re mated?”

Rowan tensed. He placed his hands on Aelin’s shoulders, both in a soothing motion, and said in a too-quiet voice, “I think we’re whatever we want to be.”

A far cry from the prince who walked into that library demanding to get to know better his “mate”.

His reply was no answer at all, yet all the answer she needed.

˜˜

“Do you think it’s too much?” Aelin asked, biting her nail.

“I absolutely think it’s too much,” Aedion replied.

Aelin sighed. “You weren’t supposed to be this honest.”

At her antechamber, the two cousins stared at the table that laid all the gifts she bought for the cook: a knife made of ungodly expensive steel that’s allegedly unbreakable and always sharp, a chest of rare ingredients and herbs, and spidersilk gloves so she never injures her hands at work. Along with a note thanking her for the cooking.

And a request for a couple of his recipes, such as the hazelnut tarts she’d eaten every day.

Aedion shook his head. “You should’ve known better after Eyllwe.”

That cook from Eyllwe’s castle. The only one Aelin could never get a recipe from, no matter how many lavish gifts she showered him with. He said he wouldn’t give the fruit loaf recipe so Aelin would visit more often, but she knew it was because he’s stingy—his tactic worked either way.

“What else do we need to sort out before we leave?” Aelin asked mostly out of curiosity for Aedion’s plans. With one exception, everything she needed was at least half-ready.

“I need to visit my mother’s grave one last time, and I’m still wondering if I should bring Rhoe a bottle of that Fae scotch.”

“Oh, gods.” Aelin shook her head. What a terrible idea. “Dad can’t handle scotch for humans. Mom will kill you—you know she will.”

Aedion’s smirk was fiendish before he let it go and said, “What about you?”

“I’ve got everything sorted out. Except maybe for the cook’s gift, and I’m still wondering if I should see the healer before departing.”

He frowned. “Are you unwell?”

“How much do you want to hear about the malfunction on my lady parts?”

His face twisted into the most tortured grimace. “None, please. I’ll get the healer before you delay it further.”

Forever the mother hen, her cousin left to send for the healer before she could protest and say it wasn’t that much of a big deal.

Aelin’s monthly cycle was supposed to come days ago. It had gotten irregular in the past out of stress or overexertion—it wouldn’t be a surprise if it happened again, but it was better to have it checked now that she was spending the next few weeks on a boat.

“The steward is summoning her,” Aedion said as he re-entered her antechamber and closed the door. “Now tell me, what are you doing about Prince Rowan?”

“What about him?” Aelin frowned. As close as they were, they never meddled in each other’s affairs like this.

“I don’t know. You smell different.”

“Different?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop repeating my questions with a question.”

“I’m doing that because I’m confused! Rowan and I are companions in merriment, not matrimony—my departure won’t hurt his feelings.” Though Aelin couldn’t say the same about herself. “And how can someone smell different?”

“I don’t know. You smell different, and I don’t know what that is—I’ve never smelled it before, but it’s similar to how Rowan smells.”

“He asked me to stay here another season.”

Aedion’s brows shot up.

“I know,” she said. “I thought of inviting him to Terrasen since he has a whole season to spare, but can you imagine the scandal? Me coming back with a Doranellian lover—gods.” Aelin threw herself on the divan. “And I’d do it, but for what end? I’d buy this endless fight with my parents and the council for a match that won’t even last.”

Aedion sat on the armchair before her, seemingly thinking hard on the subject. “Didn’t he practically demand to marry you or something? Doranelle could be a powerful ally if Queen Sellene and your dad are willing to mend that bridge and find some common ground.”

“Rowan wants the stars to align into an arrow shape and point at someone for him to love, not a regular wife.”

Besides, did she want to marry Rowan? Aelin hadn’t even considered it could get that far.

“He wants a mate, you mean?”

“Exactly. That was his premise when he suggested we would eventually marry, and if he hasn’t married in the last three hundred or so years, I doubt he’ll want a wife now.”

If Sellene was anything like Maeve, she’d hand Rowan on a silver platter for a chance to get closer to Aelin. But as someone who’s dreaded a political marriage her entire life, Aelin didn’t want it like this. Not for Rowan.

“Well, cousin.” Aedion reached for a cigar and wiggled it between his fingers so Aelin could light it for him. “After a through assessment, it’s safe to say that you’re fucked.”

Aelin had as long as a deep breath to take in the amount of shit she was in before the healer knocked on her door.

“Don’t leave,” she told Aedion on her way to the door. “If I had to sit through this, you have to tell me about Fenrys as well.”

“It’s an uncommitted affair with sporadic encounters,” her cousin said, pink tinging his cheeks.

Aelin chuckled and opened her door to greet the healer holding a small case, and gestured for the female to follow her into a more private room—one Aedion wouldn’t listen even if he wanted to.

When they were settled and Aelin explained her what happened, she showed the healer the little calendar she tracked her monthly cycles in and the questions started.

Yes, she’s had irregular cycles before, though it was unusual.

Yes, she’s feeling stressed out.

No, she hadn’t gained or lost weight recently.

Yes, she was sexually active.

The healer pointed to the bed and said, “If Your Highness doesn’t mind.”

After Aelin laid down for a proper examination, the female’s hands hovered over Aelin’s body to assess it, and touched it a moment or two. When it landed on her lower stomach, the healer said, “I think I know what’s going on.” Her face remained impassive throughout the rest of her examination. Soon enough, she told Aelin to sit back at her armchair.

“Your Highness, you’re with child.”

The entire world spun.

Aelin’s with what?

“You mean…” Aelin trailed and pointed at her belly. “Little heir?”

“Exactly.” The female sent her a warm smile. “Only healing magic can detect it so far, but the baby will develop its scent and blend into yours soon enough.”

“How soon?”

“Any time now.”

Aelin nodded, her mind blank.

“Your body seems to be healthy enough for childbearing, but you should…”

The healer went on with a million recommendations about her expecting, plus lists of foods, herbs and tonics to use so the baby grows properly. Good thing she was writing it down, because Aelin was barely listening.

She was having a baby.

One that might have turquoise or green eyes and fire or wind magic and a human or hawk animal form.

One that will either reunite two opposing kingdoms or initiate a war between them.

Holy rutting Mala. She was so screwed.

The healer cleared her throat, and that’s when Aelin realized she was gawking at a blank point rather than pretending to be attention.

“Your Highness, if you don’t mind me saying…”

“Please, go ahead.”

The healer set aside the list of recommendations to say, “Fae children are rare, even more so when one or both of the parents is full-blooded. In my hundreds of years working as a healer, I’ve never seen the Fae reject their offspring the same way humans do—babies are often cherished despite the circunstancies in which they were born.”

The healer was engaged with castle gossip, then.

“You see…” Aelin leaned forward, eyes intent on the healer’s. “It is of our best interest that your knowledge of my condition stays confidential. I’m sure I can compensate you for the good work—and discretion.”

˜˜

Aedion was still on her antechamber when Aelin walked the healer out.

“How was it?”

Aelin blinked. Gods, how was it? “I’m…” Aelin trailed, struggling to find her words in this dazzling state. “Baby.”

Aedion’s full body stiffened. “You’re loud like one, yes. Now be serious.”

“You know…” Aelin frowned at her stomach. “She said I’m with child.”

He was in front of her as quick as his Fae speed could muster, sniffing her harder than a dog does to a new acquaintance.

“You don’t smell like it.”

“It’s too soon to scent it. I wouldn’t have known without a magical healer.”

Aedion paced. And paced. And paced. So much he would’ve cut a hole into the floor were his shoes sharp.

“Did you bribe her?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s concerning how that was my first instinct once she gave me the news.”

Castle gossip—Aelin had mastered the art of controlling what was said about her as much as possible.

“We must leave—immediately.”

“I agree.” She needed the family’s trusted healer to oversee this bearing and, all of a sudden, Aelin’s chest ached for her mother. “Rowan and Fenrys must be arriving back at the castle soon. As soon as I tell him—“

“No!” Aedion interrupted. He placed both arms on Aelin’s shoulders so she could sit on an armchair, then kneeled before her and said, “I admire you so much for wanting to do the right thing, but that’s too dangerous. You’re carrying a Whitethorn. Doranelle finally has a claim on you.”

Aelin nodded. He was right. This was the fulfillment of Queen Maeve’s dreams, and they didn’t know Queen Sellene enough to risk it.

“Aelin, we’re alone in a foreign land that neighbors Doranelle. We’re closer to their army than ours. You’re in a vulnerable position.” He held her face with both hands, maintaining strong eye contact as he said, “We need to go home. We’ll need an entire team to come up with a proper agreement between kingdoms, and…” Aedion swallowed. “We may or may not need an army.”

˜˜

It was the second time Aelin tried to get on a damned ship.

The salt air reeked of fish, and that alone was enough to make her queasy.

When Aelin first got on the ship yesterday, she retched her guts out before it even departed—which she was glad for, because they got to leave before being trapped in that vomit-inducing monstrosity for weeks.

After that, they stayed in an inn overnight and Aedion bought a month’s worth of everything anti-nausea that healer—Mala bless her—wrote down, and a few things more.

Now, Aelin was safely tucked into her room in the ship, near the stern where the motion of the sea is less noticeable. Even with the thick wood between her and the harbor, she could still make out the sound of the gulls’ cries, slap of water against the shore and people calling to one another all added to the mayhem that was Varese’s harbor. She’d be watching it, but her window faced the sea, and Aelin wasn’t in a lively mood today.

She missed Rowan.

It was true that carrying a child left mothers-to-be moody, but it’d be unfair to blame it for the full extent of her feelings—she blamed Rowan as well.

Rowan and his dry humor and hard muscles that felt soft when cuddling—every time her chest ached with longing for him, it was absolutely his fault.

The only thing Aelin didn’t blame him for entirely was for his seed taking root inside of her. After her mother spent her entire fertile life trying to conceive and ended up with only one child, Aelin vowed to never take a contraceptive tonic—facing the judgement of bearing a child out of marriage was better than leaving Terrasen without an heir.

And that reminder only made her more eager to go home. The lords will be livid that a decision about Aelin’s own body escaped their control, but that might be overshadowed by the fact that they’ll be dealing with Doranelle soon.

It would be chaos in every scenario Aelin tried to predict, and she just wanted it to be over with.

Aelin got up and met the sentries outside her door—one of her father’s requirements for her trip.

Gods, her dad will be so proud when he gets to see what she can do with her flames now.

The thought made her think of Rowan again. She was doomed.

The sentries jumped, wide-eyed when she opened her door.

“Why is it taking us so long to leave?”

One of the males glanced at the narrow hallway before he said, “There’s an issue with a stowaway. Word is that he’s been raising hell in other ships too.”

Aelin frowned. “So he’s a bandit?”

He shrugged. “That’s all I know. We’re under strict orders that no one other than Prince Aedion should get in or out of your room for now.”

She closed the door, laid back on the bed and grabbed a book. There were plenty of people outside dealing with the bandit, and Aelin couldn’t put Terrasen’s heir at risk by engaging in fights she could avoid.

She didn’t think Aedion would find a ship with a room this nice at the last minute, but Aelin was grateful for it—if she was going to be miserable, she might as well be doing it in a comfortable, spacious room.

For a moment, Aelin heard shouting outside. She straightened herself into a seating position at the bed and willed her flames to stay ready to attack. It was gone soon.

They must’ve caught him—Aelin’s side of the ship was filled with guards.

She focused back on her book and throughly judged the fictional princess’ choices. Gods, who wrote this thing?

A loud crack stole her attention as the glass from her window shattered under the wind’s strength.

That wind she knew too well.

Aelin’s entire body tensed. As she got up, a hawk flew past her broken window and into her room.

He shifted into his Fae form at the same time the guards burst into her room.

“Your Highness, are you—THE BANDIT!”

Aelin grew a wall of flame between them and the guards before another fight could ensue.

“That’s not a bandit,” she shouted, “that’s Prince Rowan of Doranelle!”

To be fair, he didn’t look princely at all. With clothes torn at the seams and a frazzled expression of somber eyes and disheveled hair, Rowan looked like a tramp or a drunk rather than a prince.

Aelin shooed away the guards before she could fully focus on him, but Rowan had barely noticed them, holding her closer without caring about their privacy.

“How dare you,” he murmured against her head. “How dare you leave town with just a goodbye letter thanking me for the orgasms.”

In that moment, all Aelin knew was the swell of warmth she felt on her chest when he was near—if she had any problems before this moment, it was lost to her.

She chuckled and nipped his chin. “You knew I’d be leaving either way.”

“And you should grant a male his time to fix that.” Rowan kissed her cheek, jaw, nipped her neck. “How are you—“

Rowan sniffed along her neck and froze. All warmth was gone when he took a step back from her.

Nothing could’ve prepared her for the betrayed look in her lover’s eyes.

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[charliedawn]

Hiya Charlie! I missed ya! I’ve been busy with college. I finally changed my major to American history and I’m happier.

Anyway I have a request for you! Idk if you do AUs or anything, but I thought it’d be fun. How about a Hannibal royal family au? I’ve been reading a lot about knights and princes and princesses lately, and this idea wouldn’t leave my brain!

have a lovely day Charlie!

ROYAL HANNIBAL FAMILY AU:

You were but a villager.

In no way were you expected to attend any royal ceremony or to even set foot into the palace…but, you had still received a letter one morning—inviting you to the castle. You had believed in a hoax at first—a joke. Or maybe even a mistake. But, the letter had your name on it—written in pretty cursive.

You were hence invited to the castle of the royal family. Once confirmed, you began to be frightened. Many rumours went about that place…And some of them were gruesome.

Tales of man-eating monsters and bloodthirsty creatures hiding within the castle.

You didn’t know why you had been invited—but you knew that you had no choice but to accept the invitation or some misfortune might befall on you. You hence stepped within the walls of the dark castle where many had stepped in before—only to never return…

You knew you ought to bring a gift for the family, and hence chose to pluck flowers from your garden and bring them with you—hoping they would be enough to change your destiny.

HANNIBAL SR. THE KING:

Fleur de Lys.

For the king, you had brought magnificent fleurs de lys—the royal flower. It was said to bring peace and prosperity to a kingdom. You entered the throne room and sure enough, here was his majesty the king. Your knees started shaking as you made your way into the throne room and bowed deeply before none other than King Hannibal Lecter. His eyes seemed to bore into yours and he didn’t talk for a moment—until his eyes landed on the flowers.

"…Are those for me ?" He asked and you nodded before taking a step forward.

"Yes, my king." To your utter surprise, king Hannibal himself stood up and walked down the stairs of his throne to you. He then took the flowers in his hands and smiled.

"…Ah. Fleur de Lys. How thoughtful. A worthy gift. Such a lovely one at that." His eyes looked down at the unfortunate creature who had come into his castle for the sole purpose of being hunted.

"Tell me, my dear child. Why bring me flowers ?"

He was genuinely curious and you smiled before slowly looking back up at him.

"You and your family have been protecting this land and our way of life for as long as I can remember. And I knew that if I was to meet a king, then I was to bring a gift to show my gratitude as to this unexpected invitation."

Hannibal Sr looked at the villager curiously. It was rather odd. No villager had ever brought a gift with them before…But, it wasn’t unwelcome. He smiled. It was even quite touching in a way…He gave the flowers to a servant for them to put them in a vase. He then looked back down at the villager.

"What is your name, child ?" He asked—his voice authoritative and loud enough to echo all around the throne room like thunder.

"…Y/N. My king." You replied before looking up at him and he smiled as he looked at you curiously. You were intriguing. He hummed before returning to his throne to sit back down.

"How about I offer you a job, Y/N ? Would you like that ? Would you consider to work under my service ?" He asked and your eyes widened at the offer.

"Sir…I would love nothing more."

And just like that, you had now been hired by the royal family as a servant. And for the first time, the villagers saw one of their own return to the village. You quickly packed your bags and left—unaware the fate that you had miraculously escaped.

HANNIBAL JR. THE PRINCE REGENT:

Roses.

When you approached the gates, you could already see the guards staring at you with knowing smirks. You gulped. They seemed to know something about the purpose behind your visit and the way they looked at you made you involuntarily shiver…You looked at the roses in your hands. Perhaps your gift would spare you punishment, or even death ? You shook your head at the dark thoughts plaguing your mind before stepping inside and making your way to the throne room…You were expecting to meet with the king.

But instead, the Prince Regent was sitting there—his piercing gaze staring at you intensely as you approached.

"M-My prince…" You greeted him politely before bowing respectfully before him.

"…I was made aware that you had a gift for me, is that correct ?" He asked and you bowed your head deeply before offering the roses to his gaze.

"Yes, my prince. Roses." He scoffed before standing up to look at the roses closely.

"I have many roses within my kingdom, why would you bother bringing me such a gift ?" You stayed completely still and didn’t know how to answer.

"I…I just thought that his majesty would appreciate them. I have grown them myself and I thought that you would be able to appreciate a gift as this one because I heard you valued hard work and dedication. I only wished to prove myself to you."

Hannibal Jr smirked before grasping your chin and slowly tilting it up to look into your eyes.

"Very well…And what can you do for me then, little flower ?"

You started thinking about it before replying confidently.

"…Anything you want, my prince."

He studied your answer and smiled as his eyes didn’t leave yours for a second. He finally released your chin and seemed pleased by your answer.

"Anything you say ? Interesting."

Maybe…Would he keep that one ?

MORGAN HANNIBAL THE FIRST PRINCE: Pansies

Once you had entered, you followed your instincts to give you the path to the throne room, as no one seemed to be around to guide you. You started walking until you reached a magnificent door with lovely gold patterns. You thought it was the throne room and opened the door—only to end up in a library. You looked around curiously. The village didn’t have books such as these—not as many anyway…And besides, only a lucky few knew how to read. And they didn’t share their knowledge unless they were paid…

Then, your eyes landed on a book that was open on the table. You knew you better haste and find the throne room before your time was up but…Curiosity got the best of you and you slowly made your way to the book. You hoped there would at least be pictures for you to look at…Once close enough, you looked at the pages and found it rather curious to find the illustrated representation of a rabbit wearing a waistcoat and holding a pocket watch…How curious.

As the pages were flipped, more incongruous and confusing characters came in, all the more interesting as the pages went along…You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of a smiling purple cat. You then wondered who that book might well belong to ?

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you and before you could turn around—you felt the hand of a stranger at the back of your neck and forcing you to remain in the same position…bent over the book.

"…Do you like it ?" He asked—his voice merely a whisper in your ear and you gulped as you started becoming nervous.

"I…I didn’t mean to look at it. I am sorry, sir. Please. Forgive me."

He tsskd in disapproval before digging his fingers into your skin.

"Answer my question, little mouse…or your last words will be the apology."

And with that threat, your tongue started working on its own.

"Y-Yes. I like it. I love the pictures and the funny animals. I just…I would just like to understand more. I have trouble understanding the story. I am sorry."

He hummed behind you before sitting down next to you. That is when his face came into view and your eyes widened as you recognised the first prince…You wished to escape—but his grip hadn’t loosened as he took the book and opened it on the first page.

To your utter shock, he started reading it to you. His voice was cold, but poised and rich like cinnamon and melted sugar…After a while, you decided it was best to just listen and enjoy the privilege of being read to. You didn’t even notice when his grip on you finally loosened completely and he instead started circling the side of your throat with his thumb—seeking your pulse and wondering if you were afraid.

He searched for fear. He found none…His eyes settled on the flower pot you had brought with you…pansies. You had brought pansies to the castle and he held back a laugh before continuing reading to you.

You had no idea of the fate awaiting you.

KEVIN HANNIBAL THE MIDDLE PRINCE: Daffodils.

"HELLO, PRECIOUS !" You were stunned when the doors of the castle opened wide and none other than Prince Kevin came out with a big grin on his face. "Come in, luv’. Make yourself at home !"

He took your hand and before you could as much as let out a squeak of protest…You were already in. He dragged you all the way to—what you assumed to be—his bedroom. It was a great room with all the luxury one could afford…but what truly struck you wasn’t the fine furniture and incredible gold, silver and emerald green designs worthy of such a man…No.

It was the paintings.

Hundred of them. They were covering the walls and for a simple villager, it was like walking inside a great museum. You had never seen so many paintings, or even held a brush before. But, you couldn’t but to marvel facing all those reproductions of people you had met, people you had never met, places you had seen and other unseen…It put into perspective all the things you knew and didn’t in such a beautiful way.

The prince remained silent—observing you with a slight tilt of his lips. He was holding back a smile as he saw the admiration in your gaze…The middle prince was foreign by what the rumours said about him—from a country far away surrounded by water and where dark creatures resided. But, his smiling face was a complete contrast with what you thought your first meeting with royalty would be.

"Not bad, eh ?" He asked and his accent rolled off his tongue in such a way that it inwardly made you smile for some reason.

"Those are…incredible, my prince." He chuckled at your compliment before looking down at the flowers in your hands.

"Are those for little old me ?" Before you could answer, he took the flowers from you and smiled at the daffodils. He then did something unexpected and threw the flowers on his bed. You were about to ask the reason before he wordlessly guided you to the bed and laid you down carefully. He then started placing the flowers all around your head—as if putting together an art piece. When he was finished, he smiled.

"Don’t move." He then quickly grabbed brushes, colours and a canvas to start painting. You didn’t dare move as he put himself to work and silent fell all around you—except for the occasional sounds of the careful strokes of his paintbrush on the canvas and your breathing. After a while, you dared to glance at the prince and observe him as he worked. He was…quite handsome. His eyelids lowered and his eyes focused on his work. You didn’t know the reason for your summoning, but you would have never thought it was to be the model for the prince’s next art piece.

Suddenly, his eyes met yours and he smiled knowingly—for a moment resembling his own art in the perfection of his traits.

You smiled back.

PETER HANNIBAL. THE YOUNGEST PRINCE: Sunflower.

Peter was bored. His father and brothers were all busy with their duties and he wasn’t allowed outside the wall of his room. He sighed and was staring out his window. He wished for a friend…a friend to come and cure his boredom. And as if his prayers had finally been answered, someone entered his room—someone new. He had first expected Morgan or Kevin, but his eyes lit up when he realised that it was someone he had never seen before…

"Oh. My apologies. I…I am afraid I am a bit lost."

His mouth was about to speak up when they landed on the sunflower in your hand instead. A sunflower ? You had brought a sunflower ? He stared at it and you noticed. You smiled before giving it to him. He was surprised, but smiled at the gift that he eagerly received and stared at…

"Could you please tell me the direction of the throne room ?" They asked with an incredibly sweet voice and Peter was stunned for a few seconds. The throne room ? No…So, they were the next meal ? The next one to be served as dinner for his family ? He looked them up and down and in a matter of seconds—took a decision. He stood up and went to the door to lock it. He then remained with his back facing you for a while before slowly turning back towards you with the biggest grin on his face.

"C-Could you play a game with me ? Just the two of us ?" You blinked twice in astonishment at his request before chuckling nervously.

"Hum…I am not sure, my prince. I think I ought to go to the throne room now before I arrive late…"

"Just one. PLEASE !" He pleaded and you knew that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you smiled and nodded in agreement. "Sure. What is the game then, my prince ?"

He giggled and his face got closer to you before he replied:

"Listen to me and do everything I say or…you die." You were taken aback for a moment before you huffed a nervous laugh.

"…What ?"

Suddenly, his jovial smile disappeared—replaced by darkness in his eyes.

"You heard me. Do as I say or…my papa and my brothers will find you and eat you. But, I can keep you safe. I can help you. All you have to do is promise to be my friend !" At that last part, he grinned again and you knew better than to ignore such words. They were no laughing matter—especially that you knew you hadn’t been the first to be summoned and to never return. You realised that he wasn’t kidding and you gulped. What choice did you have ?

You bowed.

"Yes. Thank you, my prince."

His grin widened before he hugged you tightly.

"You and I…we’re gonna be best friends. You’ll see. And I’ll love you and you’ll love and it is gonna be so great ! You’ll see…"

Indeed, you would…

You thought before a petal of the sunflower fell to the floor.