#effortless leap

[90smisaki]

ten Disney-style cartoon animals, each with their own unique personality.

[kruemel8]

X.

[faebled-stories]

Turbulence

Kinkvember Day 16: Mile High Club

Nmixx Oh Haewon x Male reader

“Hello, everyone! Welcome back to WORKDOL!” Haewon’s voice rang out with a contagious spark of energy, her words riding the crisp autumn breeze that teased strands of her dark hair across her face. She tucked them back with a practiced flick of her fingers, her radiant smile lighting up the screen. The sunlight played across her features, a golden halo highlighting her natural charisma as she gestured toward the sleek entrance behind her.

“I’m your beautiful and loving host, Haewon, and today’s challenge is taking me to new heights—literally.” Her laughter carried an edge of anticipation, and her enthusiasm practically leaped through the camera lens. The airline training facility behind her loomed like a modern cathedral of glass and steel, its polished facade catching the sun in a dazzling display that mirrored both her energy and the grandeur of the setting. The gleaming reflection framed her figure, a dynamic blend of her bold personality and the facility’s imposing elegance.

Spinning back to face the entrance, her boots clicking smartly against the pavement, she spread her arms in an exuberant gesture. “I’ve done some pretty wild stuff on this show, but today, I’m stepping into the shoes of a flight attendant. And trust me, there’s a lot more to it than just handing out snacks at 30,000 feet.” Her grin widened as she took a confident step forward. “Safety, service, and smooth skies—I’m going to learn it all. Let’s see if I can keep up!”

The automatic glass doors slid open with a whisper, releasing a wave of cool, conditioned air that carried a faint hint of jet fuel and a clean, soapy freshness from the nearby uniforms. Pausing inside the cavernous lobby, Haewon drew a steadying breath, her chest rising and falling as she absorbed her surroundings. The space was vast yet orderly, sunlight pouring through towering windows onto sleek tiled floors. The low hum of conversations mixed with the soft beeping of security scanners, a quiet symphony of activity that spoke of precision and focus.

It was then that she saw you.

Standing near the check-in counter, your presence immediately commanded attention. Your tailored navy-blue uniform was impeccably pressed, each detail from the sharp creases of your slacks to the polished silver wings on your chest exuding professionalism. Yet, it was your demeanor that truly captured her focus—a calm, collected confidence that made the bustling environment seem to orbit around you. When your eyes met hers, there was something both grounding and electric in your gaze, a quiet assurance paired with a welcoming warmth.

“Welcome aboard, Haewon,” you said, your voice low and steady, carrying an effortless blend of authority and approachability. Extending a hand toward her, you added with a faint smirk, “Ready for a crash course in being a flight attendant?”

She took your hand, her grip firm yet lingering just a beat longer than necessary. “Oh, I think I’m ready,” she replied, her tone light with a teasing edge. A playful glance back at the camera crew underscored her words. “The question is—are you ready for me?”

The faintest flicker of amusement crossed your face, softening your otherwise composed expression. “I’ve trained a lot of people,” you said smoothly, your tone betraying nothing but cool professionalism. “But I have a feeling you’re going to be... different.”

Her laugh rang out, light and musical. “You have no idea.”

Falling into step beside you, Haewon matched your calm stride, her eyes occasionally flicking toward you as if trying to decipher the layers beneath your poised exterior. The hallway stretched ahead, its polished floors gleaming under the soft glow of overhead lights. The distant hum of simulators grew louder with each step, a low, almost hypnotic vibration that thrummed through the air.

“So,” she began, her voice playful, “do you always keep it this formal, or are you saving the charm for later?”

You glanced at her sidelong, the corner of your mouth twitching in the faintest smile. “Let’s focus on the basics first,” you replied, your tone both firm and teasing. “Charm might come later—if you earn it.”

She let out a soft laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she shot you a challenging look. “Challenge accepted.”

When the training cabin came into view, Haewon slowed, her steps faltering ever so slightly as she took in the scene before her. The replica interior was a flawless facsimile of an airplane cabin, every detail meticulously crafted to mimic reality. Pristine rows of fabric seats stretched into the distance, their neatly aligned headrests giving an air of almost military precision.

Overhead compartments gleamed under the soft fluorescent lighting, their edges perfectly contoured. At the far end, emergency equipment was arranged with a precision that exuded both order and a subtle, sobering weight.

For the first time, Haewon felt the enormity of the task ahead. Her playful energy wavered just a touch, replaced by a flicker of trepidation. This wasn’t just another challenge for the cameras—this was about responsibility. Lives could depend on what she was about to learn.

“We’re starting with the safety demonstration,” you said, your voice calm but carrying a note of gravity that pulled her back into the moment. “Passengers rely on flight attendants to guide them in emergencies, so this is one of the most critical parts of the job. You’ll learn how to operate the oxygen masks, life jackets, and cabin doors.”

“No pressure, right?” she quipped, her grin returning, though there was an edge of nervousness beneath it.

You gave her a reassuring smile, stepping forward with practiced ease to open an overhead compartment. The soft click of the latch released the panel, and you retrieved a bright yellow oxygen mask. The tubing coiled slightly as you held it aloft, the rubberized surface gleaming under the lights.

“Step by step,” you said, offering the mask to her. Your hand brushed hers briefly, the contact fleeting yet charged enough to make her pause. Haewon quickly recovered, mimicking your demonstration as she secured the mask over her face. Her movements were careful, deliberate, though she couldn’t help but notice how your steady gaze stayed on her, assessing, encouraging.

“Not bad,” you remarked, a flicker of amusement in your eyes as she fumbled slightly with the straps. “You’re a quick study.”

“I’m great at learning... with the right teacher,” she replied, her smirk returning as her confidence steadied.

Your expression didn’t waver, though there was an unmistakable warmth in your tone as you handed her a life jacket next. “We’ll see if that holds true,” you said. “Let’s keep going.”

The training session continued with a steady rhythm, each task blending professionalism with an undercurrent of tension that simmered just below the surface. As you demonstrated how to secure the life jacket, Haewon’s focus wavered. Her attention was drawn to the way your hands moved—precise, confident, every gesture purposeful.

When you stepped closer to adjust the straps on her shoulders, your fingers brushed against her collarbone. The contact was fleeting but sent a ripple of heat through her skin, as if the touch carried an unspoken promise. Her breath caught for just a second, and a soft flush crept up her neck before she quickly composed herself, hiding her reaction behind a practiced, teasing grin.

“There,” you said, stepping back to assess your work. A faint smile played at the corners of your lips, a mix of satisfaction and subtle amusement. “Now you’re ready.”

“Think I’ll pass the test?” she asked, her tone light, though a slight waver betrayed her lingering nerves.

“You’re doing well so far,” you replied, your voice low and steady, the warmth in your tone an unspoken reassurance. The way your gaze lingered on hers for just a moment longer than necessary sent her pulse racing. Then, as if sensing the shift, you turned away smoothly, giving her the space to collect herself.

When the meal service portion of the training began, Haewon found herself walking a fine line between playful confidence and distraction. Carrying the serving tray through the narrow aisles of the mock cabin was surprisingly challenging, especially with you standing close. Your quiet observations, both grounding and unnerving, felt like a spotlight she couldn’t escape. She could feel your presence even when you weren’t speaking, your calm authority acting as both a guide and a silent challenge.

By the end of the ground training, Haewon was beaming with pride. Her earlier apprehension had melted into a palpable sense of accomplishment. She straightened her posture, adjusting the collar of her uniform as she turned to you. “Not bad for my first day, right?” she teased.

“You’ve done well,” you admitted, a hint of warmth softening your typically composed demeanor. But then your expression shifted, a spark of anticipation flashing in your eyes. “But we’re not done yet. In about an hour, you’ll put everything you’ve learned to the test—on a real flight.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, though excitement quickly replaced any hesitation. “An actual flight? Already?”

You nodded, your faint smirk returning. “No pressure.”

Her laugh was bright and full of confidence, though a nervous energy buzzed beneath the surface. “Bring it on.”

-----

The short break passed in a blur, and before Haewon knew it, she was standing in the aisle of an actual airplane, her hands clutching a laminated safety demonstration card. The hum of the engines filled the cabin, a low, steady vibration that thrummed through her feet and echoed in her chest. The lighting overhead cast a warm glow, softening the sharp lines of the space and lending it a strangely intimate atmosphere.

You stood nearby, your posture relaxed but your gaze sharp, watching her every move with quiet intensity. Despite the weight of your presence, Haewon felt a thread of camaraderie growing between you, a subtle shift in the dynamic that had begun during the ground training. She could see it in the way your gaze softened when she stumbled slightly, and in the faint curl of your lips when she recovered with a self-deprecating joke.

The flight was already underway, the cabin filled with the faint murmur of passengers chatting, flipping through magazines, and settling into their seats. The scent of coffee brewing in the galley mingled with the sterile metallic tang of the recycled air, creating a distinct atmosphere unique to being miles above the earth.

Haewon stood near the forward galley, her hand resting lightly on the counter. She adjusted her uniform self-consciously, keenly aware of your steady presence just a few steps away.

“Ready for service?” you asked, your tone calm, with just enough of a challenge to make her lift her chin confidently.

“Born ready,” she quipped, grabbing a tray from the counter with a playful flourish. Her confidence faltered slightly when the tray shifted awkwardly in her hands, but she recovered quickly, shooting you a grin. “No big deal—I’ve got this.”

Your lips twitched in the faintest of smiles. “Let’s hope the passengers feel the same.”

Haewon stepped into the aisle, her posture straightening as she approached her first task: offering drinks and snacks to the passengers. The tray was heavier than she anticipated, the weight testing her balance as she maneuvered through the narrow space. Her heart beat a little faster when she caught you watching her, your gaze steady, assessing, and just a touch amused.

As she handed a cup of coffee to an elderly passenger, she glanced over her shoulder. “See? Flawless,” she said lightly, her grin widening.

“Not bad,” you replied, following her at a measured pace. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

“I’m more than getting the hang of it,” she retorted, her voice playful as she breezed past you to the next row. “I’m a natural.”

The subtle challenge in her tone drew a soft chuckle from you, though your expression remained composed. The exchange felt like a dance, her energy bouncing off your calm reserve in a way that kept her sharp and on edge.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you said, your voice low enough that only she could hear. “The day’s not over yet.”

By the time the aisle service was complete, Haewon’s steps carried a bit more confidence. She returned to the galley, her tray empty, and set it down with a triumphant flourish. “Mission accomplished,” she declared, turning to face you.

“You’ve done well,” you acknowledged, a note of approval in your tone that made her pulse quicken. “But the real test is consistency.”

“Oh, I’m all about consistency,” she replied, tilting her head challengingly. “Care to test me?”

Your gaze lingered on hers for a moment longer than necessary, the tension between you thickening with every second of silence. Just as the moment threatened to stretch into something unspoken, a chime from the cabin interrupted. You glanced away first, your professionalism snapping back into place like a shield.

“Passengers first,” you said, your tone lighter now, though the flicker of warmth in your eyes remained.

Haewon followed your lead for the rest of the flight, her confidence growing with every completed task. Yet, no matter how routine the work became, she couldn’t ignore the charged undercurrent in your interactions. Every time you brushed past her in the galley or caught her gaze across the cabin, her heart skipped a beat. The professionalism you maintained only heightened the tension, leaving her thoughts spinning and her pulse racing.

-----

As the plane leveled out and the hum of the engines steadied into a calm rhythm, the cabin lights softened, casting a warm, golden glow over the space. The passengers had settled into a quiet lull, the initial excitement of the flight giving way to a tranquil, almost meditative calm.

Haewon stood near the galley counter, her hands loosely gripping the edge as she exhaled, letting the whirlwind of the day finally catch up with her. Her body hummed with a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration, the tension of performing ebbing away to leave a buzz of satisfaction.

A few steps away, you leaned casually against the galley wall, your posture at ease but your gaze sharp, still assessing her as though the challenge hadn’t quite ended. The subtle intensity in your expression made her pulse quicken, though your silence carried no judgment—only a quiet, thoughtful admiration that sent her nerves fluttering.

“You did well,” you said finally, your voice low and steady, breaking the stillness like the first ripple in calm water. “Better than I expected.”

Her lips curved into a playful smile, the rare note of praise filling her with a quiet thrill. “Was there ever any doubt?” she teased, tilting her head as she leaned back slightly against the counter.

The faintest chuckle escaped you, soft and warm, like an echo of her own energy. “Maybe a little,” you admitted, the flicker of amusement in your expression lighting your features.

The honesty caught her off guard, her grin faltering for just a second before returning with a bolder edge. For a fleeting moment, the dynamic between you shifted, the playful air giving way to something deeper. Your expression softened, the lines of your usual composure blurring into something unguarded. The change drew her in, the hum of the plane fading into the background as the tension between you thickened—unspoken but palpable.

“You know,” she said, her voice light yet laced with teasing, “I think I’ve earned a little celebration for surviving my first day. Don’t you?”

Your brow arched slightly, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “What kind of celebration are we talking about?”

Her response caught in her throat for a moment, and the faint heat that bloomed in her cheeks only added to the weight of her words when she finally spoke. “Something… exclusive,” she said, her voice steady but rich with a daring undertone.

The meaning behind her words hung in the air, unmistakable and electric. Your gaze deepened, amusement giving way to something more deliberate. You leaned in slightly, your voice dropping to a quiet murmur that seemed to wrap around her. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Her heart thundered against her ribs, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she stepped closer, closing the space between you with a confidence that surprised even her. The smile on her lips grew, soft yet determined, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’ve been ready all day.”

For a moment, the cabin around you seemed to fade. The muted golden light cast soft shadows across your face, highlighting the quiet intensity in your gaze as you studied her. Neither of you moved, the charged silence between you tightening like a drawn bowstring.

Then, with deliberate calm, you extended your hand toward her. Your touch was firm yet gentle, grounding as you guided her away from the galley. She followed without hesitation, her pulse racing as you led her toward the back of the plane.

At the rear, you pushed open the small lavatory door, the soft creak of its hinges cutting through the hush. Your hand lingered at the small of her back as she stepped inside, the warmth of your touch sending a shiver up her spine. When the door clicked shut behind you, the energy that had simmered between you all day finally erupted.

The confined space sharpened every sensation—the soft rustle of fabric as you turned to face her, the faint scent of her perfume mingling with the sterile metallic air, the heat radiating from your bodies in the tight quarters. Her breath hitched as your eyes locked, the tension that had stretched between you snapping in an instant.

Your hands found her waist, pulling her to you as your lips claimed hers in a kiss that was both searing and deliberate. Her gasp was muffled against your mouth as her fingers threaded into your hair, drawing you closer. Her body arched into yours, every inch of her responding to the intensity of the moment.

Your lips trailed from hers to her neck, lingering along the sensitive skin as you placed slow, deliberate kisses. Each touch drew a shiver from her, her breath catching when your teeth grazed her pulse point. “Are you sure about this?” you murmured against her neck, your voice rough with restraint.

Her reply came shaky but resolute, her hands clutching your shoulders like an anchor. “I’ve never been more sure,” she whispered, her pulse hammering beneath your lips as she tilted her head to give you better access.

The cramped space seemed to vanish as the moment consumed you both, the world outside forgotten in the wake of the energy unleashed between you.

The space was impossibly small, the metallic walls almost brushing against your shoulders, and the occasional jolt of turbulence only heightened the intensity of the moment. The space smelled faintly of disinfectant, mingled with the subtle trace of Haewon’s perfume—a delicate floral scent that teased your senses.

As you leaned back slightly against the narrow counter, Haewon knelt before you, her movements deliberate, her gaze unwavering. Her eyes, dark and filled with a mix of longing and playful confidence, locked onto yours, and the weight of her focus sent a shiver down your spine. Her breath was steady but quickening, her lips parting slightly as she settled into position.

The rustle of fabric was almost deafening in the otherwise quiet space as you undid your belt, the metallic clink of the buckle punctuating the silence. Haewon’s hands moved lightly to your thighs, her touch sending an electric jolt through your skin. Her fingers curled slightly, their delicate pressure grounding you even as your pulse quickened.

Her lips parted with deliberate intent, her breath warm against your skin as she began, her tongue tracing the underside of your length in slow, purposeful strokes. The first touch sent a shiver through you, your breath catching as she took her time, savoring each movement. Her tongue flattened against you, the slick glide paired with soft, teasing flicks that made your pulse pound. The confined space seemed to amplify everything—the wet sound of her tongue, the low, needy hum vibrating in her throat, and the sharp inhale you couldn’t suppress as her mouth enveloped you.

She started with an almost agonizing slowness, her lips forming a tight seal as she slid over you, her cheeks hollowing slightly as she sucked with increasing intensity. Her tongue danced in deliberate patterns, tracing every vein and ridge as if committing them to memory. Each time she withdrew, she paused to press soft, open-mouthed kisses along your length, her lips lingering as if savoring your taste. The contrast between the wet heat of her mouth and the cool air when she pulled away only heightened your sensitivity.

Her arousal became evident as she worked, her thighs pressing together as if seeking friction, a faint sheen of moisture beginning to darken the fabric at the apex of her legs. She shifted slightly, her hips grinding subtly against the floor as if responding to the growing heat building within her. A quiet, breathy moan escaped her lips as she took you deeper, the vibration against your skin sending a wave of pleasure surging through you.

Haewon’s movements became more confident, more urgent, her lips sliding over you with a rhythm that left no room for hesitation. She adjusted herself, her knees pressing firmly into the floor as her fingers dug into your thighs, holding you steady. Each time she took you into her throat, her muscles relaxed just enough to accommodate you, her moans growing louder as her arousal deepened. The faint scent of her arousal mixed with the confined air, a subtle but intoxicating reminder of how much she was enjoying this.

She pulled back slightly, her tongue flicking against your sensitive tip before she plunged forward again, her pace quickening. Her movements were fluid yet hungry, her cheeks flushed with exertion and desire. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple, catching the dim light, her effort and arousal written across every inch of her face. Her thighs shifted again, the friction of her movements drawing faint, involuntary gasps from her lips. You could see the way her body responded, her nipples pressing against her shirt, and the faint wetness between her legs growing more pronounced with each passing moment.

Reaching down, you tangled your fingers in her hair, guiding her rhythm as she moaned around you, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. She glanced up, her eyes glassy with desire, locking with yours as her lips stretched around you. That single look—filled with submission, need, and the unmistakable hunger to please—nearly undid you. Her mouth worked with a relentless precision, her tongue swirling in ways that left you gasping, her moans becoming increasingly desperate as if her own pleasure was tied to yours.

Her free hand slid up her own thigh, disappearing beneath the fabric of her shorts. You could see the subtle movement as her fingers pressed against herself, her hips rolling slightly to meet her touch. The sight of her pleasuring herself while her mouth remained focused on you sent a fresh wave of heat surging through your core. Her moans grew louder, muffled by your length, the vibrations intensifying as she worked herself closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Haewon,” you groaned, your voice thick with desire. She responded by taking you deeper, her throat relaxing as she let out a low, guttural moan that sent your head spinning. The slick heat of her mouth combined with the knowledge of her growing arousal pushed you closer to your breaking point.

As you felt the tension cresting, you tugged her hair gently, guiding her upward. Her lips released you with a wet, lewd pop, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and glistening, and her eyes dark with lust. Her thighs pressed tightly together, her arousal evident in the way her breath hitched, the damp spot on her shorts impossible to miss as she rose to her feet.

You tilted her chin upward, your thumb brushing along her jawline as you gazed into her eyes. “You’re fucking perfect,” you murmured, your voice thick with need. Her lips parted, her breath quick and shallow, as she leaned into you. The heat radiating from her skin matched your own as you claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, your hands sliding down to grip her hips, pulling her flush against you.

Haewon’s breaths came faster now, shallow and uneven, her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips betraying the storm of emotions building within her. The vibrations of the plane beneath your feet, steady and unrelenting, seemed to mirror the pulse racing through her body, each tremor adding fuel to the fire already burning between you.

As you lifted her onto the counter, her body trembled beneath your touch. Her thighs pressed against your hips, her wet heat already evident even through the thin layers of clothing. The way her legs instinctively wrapped around your waist made your heart pound harder. Her hands gripped your shoulders for support, her fingertips digging into your skin as though anchoring herself to you. Her chest rose and fell in uneven rhythms, her breath catching with every soft, involuntary sound that escaped her lips.

Her arousal was undeniable in every movement, every soft gasp and whimper filling the small space. Her hips shifted forward to meet yours, the friction building with every press of her body against yours. The scent of her, faintly sweet and musky, mingled with the sterile air of the lavatory, creating a heady atmosphere that heightened your senses.

When your hand slid beneath her skirt, brushing against the damp heat of her panties, her body jolted at the contact. She let out a shaky moan, her hips arching instinctively to press herself closer to your touch. Her wetness had already soaked through the fabric, clinging to her folds, and as you slid the thin material aside, your fingers were met with slick, yielding warmth. “Please,” she gasped, her voice trembling, her thighs quivering around you as you teased her.

You lined yourself up, the heat of her body radiating against you as you pressed the tip of your length against her entrance. Her breath hitched sharply, her nails digging into your shoulders as she gazed into your eyes. There was a flicker of vulnerability in her expression, one that gave you pause, but when she nodded, her lips parting to whisper, “I want this,” it was all the reassurance you needed. Slowly, carefully, you began to press into her.

Her body was tight—almost unbearably so—and the resistance you felt made you move even slower, your hips advancing inch by inch. Haewon’s lips trembled as her hands clutched at your back, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. “You’re so tight,” you murmured, your voice soft as you paused, letting her adjust to the intrusion. She nodded faintly, her eyes fluttering closed as you sank a little deeper, her slick heat enveloping you inch by inch.

Just as you were making progress sheathing yourself inside her, the plane lurched violently, a sudden jolt of turbulence rocking the small room. The unexpected motion drove you completely into her, the force of it pushing past the last barrier. Haewon cried out sharply, her back arching as her hands flew to your shoulders, gripping you tightly. Her cry wasn’t just from pleasure but something deeper, more visceral. You froze immediately, your heart pounding as you registered the slight quiver in her body.

Something felt different—there was a heat, a tightness, an overwhelming sense of newness that struck you all at once. When you pulled back slightly, you caught a glimpse of a faint sheen of blood on yourself. Your eyes widened in shock, and you instinctively met her gaze. Tears shimmered in her eyes, from pain and something softer, more emotional. “Haewon…” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly. “Are you… were you a virgin?”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushed as she nodded, her thighs still trembling against you. “Yes,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But… It's okay. I wanted this. I wanted you.” Her words were firm despite the tears in her eyes, her expression filled with trust and desire. “I knew it would hurt a little, but I didn’t care. I wanted you to be my first.”

Her confession hit you like a wave, a mix of emotions flooding through you—pride, awe, and a deep, possessive protectiveness. “Are you sure?” you asked, brushing a hand along her cheek, your thumb wiping away a stray tear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She smiled faintly, her hands reaching up to cradle your face. “You’re not hurting me,” she said softly. “I’ve never wanted anything more. Please… don’t stop.”

Her reassurance steadied you, her soft, trusting smile anchoring you in the moment. You leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was slow but deeply charged, your tongue brushing against hers in a rhythm that matched the gentle rocking of her hips. Her breath hitched as you trailed kisses down her jawline, your lips mapping the contours of her skin with deliberate precision. When you reached her neck, you paused, your breath warm against her pulse point, feeling the rapid flutter beneath her skin.

Your teeth grazed the delicate flesh there, and she let out a soft, startled gasp, her hips pressing forward as though urging you on. You closed your lips around the spot, sucking gently, your tongue soothing the faint sting as your teeth pressed into her again, deeper this time. Her fingers tightened in your hair, her quiet whimper sending a jolt of heat straight through you. The small bruise that bloomed against her skin was a mark meant only for the two of you, a memory hidden in plain sight.

She shifted against you as your lips moved lower, trailing across the sensitive curve of her neck. Each press of your mouth drew a soft moan from her lips, her body responding instinctively to your touch. The marks you left were subtle but unmistakable, scattered along the line of her neck with care, the kind of marks that would be easy to conceal yet impossible to forget. She shivered beneath your touch, her skin warm and slightly damp, her arousal palpable in every movement.

“Hold me,” she gasped suddenly, her voice raw and trembling with need. Her arms wrapped tightly around your neck, pulling you closer as her fingers tangled in your hair, gripping you as though she couldn’t bear to let go. The way she clung to you, her nails digging gently into your scalp, sent a wave of possessive desire surging through you.

Her hips began to move with more urgency, grinding against you with an unrestrained eagerness that left you teetering on the edge of control. Each thrust drew her closer, her moans growing louder as the rhythm between you became chaotic, driven by both the unpredictable sway of the plane and the unrelenting heat building between you. Her breath mingled with yours, her cries becoming softer, more desperate, her body melting into yours as she surrendered to the moment completely.

The sensation of her trembling against you, the heat radiating from her skin, and the intimacy of the marks left on her neck—all of it combined to push the tension higher, until every movement felt like a tidal wave, crashing through both of you.

Just as her moans reached a fever pitch, a loud knock on the lavatory door broke through the haze. “Is everything alright in there?” came a muffled voice from outside.

The sudden interruption sent a shock through both of you, and Haewon’s eyes snapped open, wide with surprise. The tension in her body, already at its peak, pushed her over the edge. Her inner walls clenched around you violently, her body trembling as the rush of adrenaline mingled with the overwhelming pleasure. “Oh god,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as her head fell back against the wall, her lips parting in a strangled cry.

Her release was sudden and explosive, her moans rising uncontrollably as her entire body shook. “I can’t… it’s too much,” she gasped, her nails raking down your back as her hips bucked against yours. The act of nearly being caught seemed to strip away the last of her restraint, her climax crashing over her with unrelenting intensity. Her wetness flooded over you, her thighs tightening around your waist as she rode out the waves of her release.

“Occupied!” you barked, your voice rough and commanding, echoing in the small space. The sound of it seemed to ripple through Haewon, her body jolting at the force of your tone. Her legs locked tighter around you, her inner walls fluttering as the vibrations of the plane and the moment’s urgency drove her deeper into ecstasy.

Her eyes met yours, glazed with pleasure and slightly dazed, her lips trembling as she tried to catch her breath. “I… I can’t,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. The sight of her—flushed, trembling, her neck marked with faint hickeys, her body still quaking with aftershocks—was enough to push you past the brink. Your thrusts became erratic, each movement driven by instinct as you chased your release. A guttural groan tore from your chest as you buried yourself deeply inside her, your climax hitting with a force that left you shaking.

The warmth of your release filled her, the intimacy of the moment heightened by the chaotic rhythm that had brought you both to this point. Your breaths mingled, the two of you clinging to each other in the aftermath, your bodies still pressed together as the world outside seemed to fade away.

The plane seemed to hum in harmony with the beating of your hearts as you held her close, your forehead resting against hers. The world outside the door ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in the aftermath of your passion. Haewon’s breathing was still uneven, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen from the force of your kiss. Her hands slid up to cup your face, her eyes searching yours as a lazy, satisfied smile played on her lips.

You stayed like that for a moment, savoring the closeness, the intimacy of being completely wrapped up in each other. Outside, the distant murmur of passengers and the steady hum of the engines reminded you that the world hadn’t stopped for your moment, but inside the small lavatory, it felt like time had paused just for the two of you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies pressed tightly together as you caught your breath. The confined lavatory felt even smaller in the aftermath, the walls seeming to hum with the warmth of your shared passion. Slowly, you pulled back, your hands still resting on her waist as she leaned against the wall, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

Your eyes softened as you took her in—her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her lips swollen and glistening, and her hair slightly tousled. She looked utterly radiant, the glow of satisfaction mingling with a soft vulnerability in her expression.

“You okay?” you asked gently, your voice low and filled with concern, though the satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth betrayed your lingering exhilaration.

Haewon nodded, her lips curling into a lazy, blissful smile. “More than okay,” she whispered, her voice still breathless and soft, tinged with the lingering traces of pleasure. Her legs trembled slightly as she shifted, her body still adjusting to the aftermath of what had just transpired.

As her gaze dropped briefly, you reached up, your fingers gently brushing a few strands of her tousled hair away from her face. The gesture was soft and unhurried, your touch lingering as you tucked the wayward strands neatly behind her ear. Haewon’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and when they opened again, they were filled with something deeper—an affectionate warmth that made her cheeks flush anew.

A small, shy smile tugged at her lips, and she couldn’t help but whisper, “You’re so gentle.” Her voice was soft, barely audible over the low hum of the plane’s engines.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering there as if to seal the quiet moment between you. “Only with you,” you murmured, your voice low and filled with meaning.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment longer, her hands resting lightly against your chest as she savored the intimacy of your touch. But as the seconds ticked by, her gaze flicked to the small mirror on the wall, and her expression shifted. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her hand flying to her neck as she caught sight of the faint bruises left by your lips. “Are those…?”

You followed her gaze, your eyes catching the small, dark marks scattered along the curve of her neck. Her cheeks turned crimson, and her hand trembled as she traced the marks. “People will see,” she muttered, her voice rising in a soft panic. “What am I going to do? I can’t—”

“Haewon,” you interrupted softly, your hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “It’s okay. Look at me.” She hesitated, her breathing uneven, but when her eyes met yours, the panic began to ebb. “I’ll fix it. Trust me.”

You glanced toward her flight attendant scarf, folded neatly on the small counter. Picking it up, you unfolded it carefully and turned back to her. “Here,” you said gently, moving to drape it around her neck. Her eyes widened slightly as your hands brushed against her skin, adjusting the fabric with deliberate care. You knotted it carefully, the silk falling into place perfectly.

“There,” you murmured, stepping back slightly. “No one will know.”

She turned toward the mirror, her fingers brushing against the scarf as she inspected it. The marks were completely hidden, and she let out a soft, relieved breath. “Thank you,” she said quietly, turning back to face you. Her voice was filled with gratitude, but there was still a hint of vulnerability in her eyes.

You reached out, brushing your fingers along her jaw, your touch light and reassuring. “You don’t have to thank me,” you said softly, your voice warm but tinged with something more serious. “But, Haewon… earlier…” You hesitated for a moment, searching her gaze. “I didn’t know it was your first time.”

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing deeper as her eyes dropped briefly before meeting yours again. “I know,” she admitted softly. “I didn’t tell you because… I didn’t want it to change anything.” Her voice wavered for a moment, but she steadied herself, her gaze unwavering. “I wanted this. I wanted you.”

Her words hit you hard, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest—pride, awe, and an overwhelming protectiveness. “Are you sure?” you asked gently, your thumb brushing against the side of her face. “I just… I don’t want you to regret this. Not here, not like this.”

Her lips curved into a faint, reassuring smile as she shook her head. “I won’t,” she said firmly, her voice soft but resolute. “I knew what I was doing. I wanted this moment with you. And I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”

Her sincerity left you momentarily speechless, the weight of her words settling deep in your chest. You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was tender and deliberate, lacking the earlier urgency but brimming with something far deeper. Her lips parted softly beneath yours, and when you pulled back, you rested your forehead against hers, your hands steadying her trembling frame.

Her brows furrowed suddenly, and she crouched slightly, glancing around the cramped lavatory. “Wait…” she muttered, her voice tinged with embarrassment as her hands brushed over the floor and edges of the counter. “Where are my panties?”

You leaned back against the door, crossing your arms with a teasing smirk. “How could you lose that?” you asked, your voice playful but low, watching her as she searched.

Haewon shot you a quick glare, her cheeks burning brighter. “They were here! They couldn’t have just disappeared!” Her tone was exasperated but softened by the lingering flush of earlier.

Her hands continued to skim over the limited space, but after another minute, it was clear they were gone—lost somewhere in the heat of your earlier passion. A nervous laugh bubbled up from her as she stood, smoothing her skirt down again. Her hands paused against the fabric as she realized there was no time to keep searching.

“I guess I’m going without them,” she admitted in a quiet voice, her cheeks glowing as she avoided your gaze. The mix of embarrassment and exhilaration in her expression made you grin.

“You’ll be fine,” you reassured her, your tone warm but teasing as you placed your hands on her arms. “Besides,” you added with a smirk, “it’ll be our little secret.”

Haewon rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. She adjusted her hair again with a shaky hand, though your earlier touch had already smoothed it into place. Her eyes flicked toward the door, her nervous energy returning as she cracked it open.

Just as she was about to step out, she hesitated, turning back toward you. Her cheeks flushed deeper, her lips curving into a shy, almost hesitant smile. You reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before leaning in to press a quick but tender kiss to her lips. It was brief, yet filled with warmth and reassurance, a silent promise that lingered as her lips parted slightly beneath yours.

When you pulled back, her eyes softened, the nervous energy in her frame easing slightly. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice quiet and filled with meaning.

“Always,” you replied just as softly, your hand brushing against her arm before she turned back toward the door.

She peeked out, glancing left and right to ensure the coast was clear, before stepping out into the aisle. Her stride was careful and measured, though her legs still trembled slightly beneath the polished professionalism of her steps. Her face was flushed, her hair still slightly a mess despite your attempts to fix it, and her lips retained the faint swelling of your kisses. Beneath her composed demeanor, the absence of her panties and the slickness between her thighs teased her with every step, a constant reminder of the intimacy you’d just shared.

You lingered for a moment, adjusting your cuffs and belt before stepping into the aisle yourself. Your gaze immediately sought Haewon, who was already walking ahead with a subtle confidence that belied the faint tremor in her legs. Her eyes met yours for the briefest of moments, a knowing spark passing between you that only deepened the warmth lingering in your chest.

As you resume your duties, the hum of the cabin returns to fill the air, but the quiet connection between you remains, a secret woven into the fabric of your stolen moment in the skies.

-----

After the plane had landed, Haewon moved to her place by the exit, ready to thank the passengers as they deplaned. It was a routine she had done countless times before—bowing, offering polite words, and smiling—but today, every movement carried an undercurrent of thrill. With each graceful bow, she became acutely aware of the warmth between her thighs, the undeniable sensation of your essence still inside her. Each slight pull of gravity as she bent forward sent a slick, teasing reminder of your earlier passion, and she fought to keep her expression neutral.

The sensation was impossible to ignore. As she straightened each time, she could feel it shift within her, threatening to escape, a subtle but constant tease that made her cheeks flush and her steps slightly more measured. The absence of her panties only heightened the awareness, the cool air beneath her skirt brushing against her skin, amplifying the delicious sense of exposure.

Each “thank you” and polite smile was laced with the secret she carried—the memory of your hands gripping her waist, your lips trailing over her neck, the way her body had clung to yours in the cramped lavatory. Her heart raced as the passengers filed past, oblivious to the intimate connection she now carried. The sensation of your lingering presence made her hyper-aware of every subtle shift in her body, each movement a vivid reminder of what had transpired.

Finally, the last passenger stepped off the plane, leaving the cabin quiet save for the soft shuffle of the crew tidying up. Haewon exhaled deeply, a faint sheen of sweat glistening at her brow as she leaned briefly against the wall to steady herself. Her knees still felt weak, her legs trembling slightly beneath her polished composure. She pressed her thighs together, trying in vain to quell the sensation that only seemed to grow stronger in the silence.

You approached her then, your expression calm and professional as always, though the teasing glint in your eyes spoke volumes. As you drew nearer, Haewon’s breath hitched slightly, her body betraying her despite her best efforts to appear composed. The memory of your touch, of the closeness you had shared, was written in every glance, every subtle tilt of your head.

“You did great,” you murmured, your voice pitched low, meant only for her. The rich timbre of it sent a fresh shiver coursing through her. “Though I couldn’t help but notice that extra sway in your step.”

She turned to you with a playful smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief despite the warmth creeping into her cheeks. “It’s a bit hard to focus,” she replied, her tone laced with sultry teasing, “when I’m walking around with a little… souvenir from my favorite instructor.”

Your grin deepened, the heat behind your gaze barely masked by your composure. Leaning in slightly, your breath ghosted over her ear, warm and intoxicating. “You’ll have to come back for more lessons sometime,” you whispered, your words curling through her like a spark igniting.

“Oh, I plan to,” she said smoothly, her voice steady despite the fluttering excitement in her chest. Turning away, her hips swayed ever so slightly, a calculated movement that let you know she was fully aware of your lingering gaze.

The conclusion of the episode approached, and Haewon effortlessly shifted back into her on-camera persona. Her radiant smile lit up the space as the crew positioned the camera for her signature closing moment. It was time for her to receive her payment for completing the challenge.

You stepped into frame, handing her a sleek black envelope. The thick paper was cool against her fingers, and as they brushed yours in a fleeting but electric touch, her pulse quickened. Your eyes locked with hers briefly, and the subtle curve of your lips—a barely-there smile—made her heart skip a beat. It was a silent reminder of the secret only the two of you shared.

Turning to the camera with her usual playful grin, Haewon slipped her fingers into the envelope, preparing to retrieve her reward. But as her hand delved inside, her breath caught for just a fraction of a second. Alongside the crisp weight of folded bills was something soft and unmistakable: her panties. Still damp, intimate, and undeniably deliberate.

As she pulled the panties slightly closer, the faint but unmistakable scent of the money mingled with hers, wafting subtly into her senses. The blend of clean linen bills and the warm, musky reminder of her own arousal sent a fresh wave of heat racing through her. Her eyes flicked briefly toward you, catching the faintest curve of your lips, the smallest glint of mischief in your gaze.

She noticed, stuck to the crotch of the fabric, a small sticky note that had absorbed some of her arousal. The faint ink of your handwriting was still visible, the note bearing nothing more than your phone number. Her cheeks flushed deeper, the intimate touch making her heart race, though her composure didn’t falter. With a practiced ease, she slipped the envelope—and its contents—into her pocket, her movements fluid and confident.

“Well, this was definitely the most fun I’ve ever had earning my paycheck,” she quipped to the camera, her voice steady even as her pulse raced.

The crew chuckled at her lighthearted remark, none the wiser to the true weight of her words. She turned back to the camera for her final moment, flashing a grin that was equal parts charm and mischief. “Looks like I’ve learned more than just safety procedures on this flight,” she said with a laugh, her delivery flawless, leaving the audience to wonder what secrets lay behind her words.

As the crew called a wrap, Haewon turned, stepping gracefully down the aisle and off the plane. Her pace was poised, her smile intact, but inside, her mind was a whirlwind. Every subtle movement reminded her of your hands, your breath, and the fire that had burned between you in the cramped lavatory.

Each step was a vivid reminder, the absence of her panties adding to the thrill as the sensation of your essence still inside her teased her with every bow and motion. She could feel it shift subtly, a lingering heat that made her cheeks burn and her chest tighten with the memory of your closeness.

As she descended the jet bridge, she slipped her hand into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the damp fabric tucked alongside the envelope. Her fingertips grazed the sticky note, the faint smudges of her arousal making it more intimate than you likely intended. A rush of heat coursed through her at the tangible proof of your connection. She withdrew her hand, carefully adjusting her uniform as she glanced around to ensure no one was watching.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted you off-camera, leaning casually against the cabin doorway. Your calm demeanor belied the glint of mischief in your gaze. When her eyes met yours, you gave her a subtle wink—a fleeting gesture that sent her heart racing all over again.

Once she was alone in a quiet corner of the terminal, Haewon exhaled deeply, her thoughts still spinning from everything that had happened. She glanced around to ensure she had privacy before stepping into a staff lounge to change out of her uniform.

Peeling off the polished exterior of her flight attendant persona, she let the neatly pressed pieces fall away, leaving her bare under the soft light of the room. Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye, her cheeks still flushed, her hair slightly tousled. As she stared at herself, a glimmer of boldness sparked in her mind, her heart pounding at the thought that took hold.

Her fingers brushed over the scarf that still hung around her neck, the same one you had adjusted for her earlier. Loosening it slightly, she let the ends drape down over her chest, framing her bare skin in a way that felt both daring and intimate. The soft fabric teased the curves of her breasts and the line of her hips. The undone scarf added an air of playful confidence, the perfect balance of teasing and boldness.

Reaching for her phone, she pulled out the sticky note with your number, her lips curving into a small smile. Entering the digits carefully, she paused for a moment, considering what to name the contact. After a brief flicker of thought, she added: ✈️🥵.

Lifting her phone, she angled herself in the mirror, capturing every detail. The undone scarf hung loosely on both sides of her neck, framing the faint marks you’d left on her delicate skin. Her bare shoulders, the curve of her waist, and the contours of her breasts and lower section were bathed in the soft light of the room. Her expression tied it all together—a sultry, mischievous smile, her gaze filled with an undeniable spark of boldness.

Her heart raced as she typed out a message.

See you soon

She hit send and let the thrill of what she’d done wash over her. With a deep breath, she reached for a soft hoodie from her bag. Pulling it over her head, she felt the fabric settle against her skin. Tugging the hood up, she let it fall around her face, a subtle shield for the marks on her neck.

Satisfied that her secret was safely hidden, she took one last look in the mirror. Her reflection, now casual and relaxed, masked the fire still smoldering beneath the surface.

As she stepped out of the lounge, her strides were steady, every step carrying a sense of empowerment. When she exited into the warm afternoon air, she smiled to herself. The message had been sent, the connection made. Whatever came next, she was ready.

[xo100]

Coffee - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando Norris visits a coffee shop every day after his run, mainly to see the barista—you. After some playful conversation, he finally asks you out.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1318.

୨ৎ

The familiar chime of the bell above the door rang softly through the cozy coffee shop, signaling the arrival of another customer. It was still early, and the usual bustle of mid-morning crowds hadn’t yet begun. The only sound besides the quiet hum of the espresso machine was the faint tapping of your fingers as you wiped down the counter, your mind only half-focused on the task at hand. It was quite in here at his hour, which meant you could almost always expect a familiar face to appear any minute now—his face.

—

Lando Norris had a routine, and his routine involved this little coffee shop on the corner. Every morning, after his early run, he would show up in his running gear, hair tousled from exertion, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and order the same thing: a simple black coffee. It wasn’t the most complex drink on the menu, not by a long shot, but somehow, you had found yourself looking forward to it every time. Because when he walked in, it wasn’t just the coffee that caught your attention.

From behind the counter, you’d noticed him the very first time he walked in. How could you not? He was handsome in that effortless, boyish kind of way, with soft brown curls that always seemed to be perfectly messy, and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that gave the impression he was always one joke away from making you laugh. He was the kind of customer you wanted to chat with for longer than just a few minutes it took to pour a cup of coffee.

And Lando had noticed you too.

At first, he had been shy about it, his glances from across the counter lingering just a second too long. He’d fumble with his card or take an extra moment to say thank you, just so he could meet your eyes. Each time, his heart would do a funny little leap in his chest. Maybe it was the way you smiled at him—genuine, warm, the kind of smile that made him forget how could it was outside. Or maybe it was the you’d always remember his order without asking, your quiet kindness making the simple act of buying coffee feel personal.

Whatever it was, he found himself coming back every day. And today was no different.

—

As you wiped down the counter, you caught the familiar sight of him jogging up the street through the large glass window, his hoodie pulled over his head to keep out the chill. Your heart skipped a little beat, as it always did when you saw him approach. You quickly turned back to the coffee machine, pretending to busy yourself, though you knew it was useless. The chime above the door rang again, and you felt a flutter in your stomach as Lando stepped inside.

“Morning,” he said, his voice a little breathless as he tugged his hood down. He flashed you that lopsided grin that always made you want to smile back.

“Morning,” you replied, already reaching for the cup. “The usual, right?” He laughed softly, nodding. “Yeah, you know me too well.”

You gave him a playful glance as you worked, pouring the dark liquid into the cup with practiced ease. “It’s hard to forget when you order the same thing every day.” Lando leaned casually against the counter, watching you with an almost lazy kind of interest, as if he had all the time in the world to stand there and chat. And, well, maybe he did. “Maybe I’m just predictable,” he teased, eyes twinkling.

You shrugged, handing him his coffee. “Predictable can be good sometimes.”

Their fingers brushed slightly as he took the cup from you, and you felt a jolt of something—something warm and sweet—shoot through you. Lando seemed to feel it too, because his hand lingered for just a second longer than necessary before he pulled away, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “What else have you figured out about me then?”

You blushed at the question, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. He had this way of looking at you, like you were the only person in the room, and it made your pulse quicken in a way that was both exciting and nerve-wracking.

“Well,” you started, trying to sound nonchalant as you wiped your hands on your apron, “I’ve figured out you like to run, considering you’re always showing up in running clothes. And you’re not too fond of sugar, since you never ask for it in your coffee.” You paused, glancing up at him. “Oh, and you’re a fan of coming in right after your run. Probably so you don’t freeze out there.”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Guilty,” he admitted. “But maybe I just like the coffee here.”

“Is that so?” You asked, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a few other coffee shops on your way here.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t make it like you do.” His voice was soft, the teasing edge still there, but laced with something a bit more genuine. His gaze lingered on you a moment longer, and you felt your face grow warmer under his attention. There was a beat of silence, one that neither of you seemed in a rush to fill. The morning light filtered through the window, casting a golden hue over the small shop, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you. No rush, no distractions—just you and Lando, standing there with his cup of coffee between you.

Finally, Lando cleared his throat, breaking the spell but not the connection. “You know,” he began, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “I was wondering… if you ever get a break?”

You blinked, not expecting the question. “A break?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, a touch of nervousness creeping into his usually confident demeanor. “You know, like… a break durning your shift. I thought maybe, if you’re free sometime, we could, I don’t know, grab a coffee? Well, not here, obviously,” he added quickly, grinning sheepishly.

You felt your heart skip again, this time harder, and you bit back a smile as you looked up at him. “You want to get coffee? With me?”

“Yeah,” Lando said, his eyes locking into yours. “I mean, I’ve been coming here for the coffee everyday, but honestly… I think it’s you I’m really here for.”

The words hung in the air between you, soft and sincere. For a second, you thought you might have misheard him, but the look on his face—hopeful and just a little bit vulnerable— told you otherwise. You felt a smile tug on your lips, warmth blooming in your chest. “I’d like that,” you said, your voice soft but sure.

Lando’s grin widened, the relief evident on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling the butterflies in your stomach dance widely. “Maybe after my shift? I finish around two.”

“Perfect,” he said, his excitement barely contained. “I’ll be here. I’ll vene let you choose the place.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you teased lightly. “Please do,” Lando shot back with a wink. He stood there for a second longer, as if he didn’t quite want to leave just yet, but eventually, he pushed off the counter, taking a step back. “Alright, I should probably let you get back to work. But, um… I’ll see you later?”

You nodded, feeling like you were floating on air. “See you later.”

He gave you one last smile before turning and heading to the door, the bell chiming softly as he left. You watched him walking down the street, the same way he always did, but this time, it felt different. You felt different.

Because today, nothing was really the same after all.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟNotes; thank you for reading my first story! Hope you enjoyed it! Also is there anyone who can tell me how to make a masterlist?

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

☒ Summary: Sure, he owned you. But just because you were contractually obligated to him didn't mean you had to play nice. Alastor couldn't force you to reciprocate those strong desires of love. No matter how hard he tried.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader she/her pronouns used, hurt with comfort! call back to some scenes from part three, crying, hugs, kisses, slight toxic themes, lovesick!alastor, happy ending, different pov's and scene jumps are separated by the boarders to make it easier to follow!

☒ Word Count: 2,672

You stumbled back to your room with an uneasy feeling pooling in your gut. Alastor wasn't a man who portrayed such extreme emotions the way he just did right before your very eyes. The sight of his smile melting off his face felt immoral. 

Your mind lamented with turmoil. 

Everything Alastor said to you was outlandish, far-fetched. Yet he spoke with such conviction, such desperation. 

This man was nothing more than a stranger to you, yet some of the things he recounted filled in those blanks you harbored through life and death.

You had been drawn to Alastor's voice since day one. Something about him did feel... nostalgic.  

And when you danced, it was effortless.

But could that just be chalked up to a coincidence?

You shook your head to rid yourself of those pestering contemplations. There was no point in dwelling on it now. At the end of the day, Alastor was a ruthless overlord. He wasn't capable of love. 

Sure, he owned you. But just because you were contractually obligated to him didn't mean you had to play nice. Alastor couldn't force you to reciprocate those strong desires of love. 

No matter how hard he tried.

And after the show he put on only moments ago... you felt more terrified of him than ever before. 

There is nothing more merciless than a man crazy in love.

Alastor stayed up all night mulling over all that transpired. He thought and thought and thought until his mind went numb.

What could he do to make you remember him?

It's not like he could leap back to earth circa 1933 with you and retrace your steps. That world he knew was long gone. 

Love is patient but waits for no one. 

Alastor lifted himself off the carpet on shaky legs. He haphazardly smoothed out his coat and tidied his bowtie. His shadows enveloped him within a moment, ferrying him to the bar located in the foyer. 

Husk jumped when he heard the radio warble in Alastor's voice. Demanding a tall glass of rye. The fluffy fellow knew better than to involve himself in Alastor's business. Husk poured his boss a fine glass of whiskey before turning his back. Continuing to scrub the pile-up of glasses. 

"Husker. Let's say you wanted somebody to remember something that was once near and dear to their heart. What do you presume would be the best possible antidote to bringing that fond memory back to life?"

Husk turned to face Alastor hesitantly. Taking note of the empty glass sitting in front of The Radio Demon. "Well, shit, I don't really know about that," Husk paused, refilling his Boss' glass. "I mean if I were the one who forgot, I guess a solid reminder of that missing somethin' would get the gears turnin'." 

Alastor's gaze was pointed, crimson eyes swirling with a sadness Husk had never seen from the feared demon. Husk cleared his throat before adding, "Like a photo or... an heirloom? Get what I mean?" 

Husk watched as Alastor's shoulders rose from their slumped position. His cynical grin morphed into something sharper, and his eyes now had that familiar gleam of assuredness. "Husker, my good man! You're not as witless as I thought. Thanks for the perspicuity and rye!" And just like that, The Radio Demon was gone. Whisked away by those ghastly shadows of his. 

Husk wasn't sure what he just unlocked for that evil man, but he hoped that whatever it was, it didn't involve him.

Husker's words replayed in Alastor's mind.

"A photo or... an heirloom?"

Husker, you mindless genius.

Alastor knew now what the key to unlocking your memories would be. 

And it was in the shape of a heart, threaded on a silver chain with a photo of him and yourself nestled inside.

The locket he gifted you for your one-month anniversary. The treasure that was wrongfully swiped by that bitch, Elaine. 

It was the catalyst for your first murder. The reason you probably sunk to hell, to begin with.

Alastor had no doubt that Elaine burned in hell along with the rest of them. She was a wretched wrongdoer. Now all he needed to do was locate her. 

Alastor had his fair share of connections in hell. One simple lift of his cane and the miserable sinners were coughing up information. A timid soul mumbled about hearing of an Elaine that fit Alastor's description. Fearfully pointing The Radio Demon in the right direction. 

Alastor chuckled to himself when he realized Elaine was shacked up at Valentino's studio— of all places. He recalls you telling him how Elaine boasted about one day becoming a picture star. 

Guess that little dream of hers came true in the most unconventional fashion. 

Alastor grimaced as the smell of sex and booze wafted past him the moment he stepped foot in the studio. Most of the bystanders turned to get a good look at The Radio Demon. Their pitiful faces were riddled with fear and awe. Probably wondering what an overlord like him was doing in a place like this. 

Alastor scanned the room begrundgly. Scrunching his nose in displeasure from the lewd displays surrounding him. Suddenly, a blonde broad caught his attention. She was sitting across the room, smoking a cigarette in her delicates. Presumably waiting til her shoot began. 

Her features were pouty and more pig than woman, but he was most certain that she was Elaine. 

Alastor approached her without hesitation, slamming his cane harshly against the dirtied floor to grab her attention. "Elaine! Oh, how unpleasant it is to see you again!" Alastor's voice was laced with faux excitement. He crossed an arm behind his back, puffing out his chest with pride. The surly woman glared at him while taking a drag of her cig. "Who the fuck are you?" 

Alastor placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "How could you forget the face of the man who corroborated your murder? I know you weren't always the brightest bulb in the box, but I mean, come on now, Elaine..." Alastor clicked his tongue in disapproval, relishing in the fear cascading over her face.

"Look, I don't want no trouble, mister." Elaine flicked her cigarette to the side, not caring where it landed, before putting her hands in front of her chest. Her own way of waving the white flag. "Well, that's great news! Because nor do I! However, I do want my darling's locket back."

Alastor's voice became low at the end of his sentence as his irises morphed into radio dials. Elaine leaned back in her chair, trembling like a leaf, as she brought her shaky hands up to her neck. She looped her fingers around the chain adorning her throat, untucking the locket from her delicates. Alastor's eyes widened at the sight of his beloved's heirloom in the hands of this wretch. 

"Look, I didn't mean anything by it when I swiped it from your little princess. I was just jealous, alright? Now, just— take it and go!" She tugged at the chain, breaking the locket off her neck before shoving it in front of herself. Dangling it right before Alastor's very eyes.

Alastor studied the piece of precious metal before flickering his gaze back to the cowering woman. "Tell me this, Elaine. Why did you keep the locket all this time, going so far as to bring it to hell with you after death?" Elaine looked taken aback by the inquiry. She scoffed, face turning red. 

"I wanted her life, okay? She had everything I wanted. The beauty, the brains, the beau. I knew if I had this locket and had it on me always, your little princess wouldn't have been able to find it if she went snooping through my things. If I couldn't have her life— then I had to have something of hers. Something that I knew would devastate her if she lost it." Alastor let out a wicked chuckle from Elaine's confession. He swiped the locket out of her grubby paws. 

"Elaine, you... could never be her. And you are quite lucky that I have better things to do today than waste another second on you. If that wasn't the case, I would have taken great pleasure in killing you myself this time." Alastor turned on his heel, shooting her a hostile glare from over his shoulder before taking his leave. 

"Bye-bye now, Elaine! Glad to see your aspirations of becoming a picture star finally came to fruition for you. Ha HA!"

The atmosphere in the room shifted the second Alastor stepped past the Hotel threshold. You were at the bar with Angel, having a well-needed drink, when a commotion at the front doors stole your attention. You nearly gave yourself whiplash with how quickly you turned your head in his direction. Already dizzy enough from the alcohol coursing through your bloodstream.

Alastor lit up when your eyes met his. He rushed over to the bar, wasting no time placing his hands on the stool you were perched on. He spun your chair, forcing you to face him, smiling with more excitement than you'd ever seen from him. "Alastor- what the fuck are you doing?" 

You peered up at him, eyebrows knit in annoyance from how he rudely pulled you away from the drink you were nursing. Alastor fell to his knees and leaned forward, face only centimeters from yours. "On our one-month anniversary, I gave you a locket..." Alastor's voice was laced with merriment, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Not this again- Alastor, please! Give it up." You pleaded, not noticing how Angel and Husk began to back away from the scene. Not wanting any involvement in this lover's quarrel. 

"But your bitch of a friend Elaine stole it from you, and you never ended up getting it back from her." You watched Alastor stuff a hand into his pocket, pulling out a shiny heart-shaped necklace. "So, I took matters into my own hands and got it back for you."

Alastor's free hand reached for yours. He flipped your palm to face the ceiling before placing the locket in your hand. You examined the piece of jewelry carefully, lifting it closer to your face to get a better view. "Open it." Alastor sounded positively impatient with excitement.

You gave him a weary look before thumbing over the clasp that kept the two metal hearts conjoined. You opened it slowly, and your breath hitched from what the tiny heirloom revealed.

It was a photo of a man and a woman. They appeared to be dancing in the photo. Limbs intertwined, both smiling from ear to ear. 

You weren't sure why, but the photo made your heart stutter. And the longer you stared into this moment forever captured in time, the blurrier it appeared. 

The feeling of Alastor's thumbs swiping along your cheeks broke you from your daze on the aged sentimental photo. He cooed at you, with much gentleness pooling in his crimson orbs.

Oh... you were crying? 

Alastor slowly took the locket from your grasp. You watched him expectantly as his hands reached beyond your shoulders, delicately wrapping the chain around your neck. Alastor skillfully clasped the necklace shut, restoring it to its rightful place against your sternum. 

The moment Alastor secured the clasp, you felt a surge of euphoria. A vermillion aura surrounded you, and your heart began to pound fiercely against your ribcage, echoing in your ears. That hole you had in your center for all these years began to flood.

You were motionless as your eyelids fluttered shut. In your mind, your life began to play out before you; like one of those old-timey picture shows. 

Moments from when you were alive and well flickered in your subconscious. All the pleasant memories and promises for the future were with him; With Alastor. 

In a wink, it all came back to you. Every touch, every laugh, every dance- every kiss. A groove in your heart that was wholly irreplaceable; you finally felt it again. 

The tears continued to trickle past your lashline as the sequence of core memories coursed through your head. Distantly, you could hear that familiar radio static hum. 

Your eyes flickered wildly back and forth behind your closed lids as your personalized picture show slowly came to an end. As you flitted yourself back into reality, the radio static warble grew louder. Overpowering the sound of your heartbeat; that thumped in your ears. Unhurriedly, your eyelids fluttered open.

Your world was smiling at you, and you smiled right back. 

"Hi..." You muttered weakly, laughing through the quiet sobs. Alastor continued to thumb away your tears. Crimson orbs softened as they met yours.

"Hello, my darling." His voice sounded better than it did moments before he bestowed the locked upon you. But maybe that's because you finally knew why his voice reminded you of home. 

It was because Alastor was your home.

"You waited for me all this time? Even after I was so cruel to you- why?" You brought your hands up, cupping his cheeks with care. The feeling of his cold skin underneath your fingertips was electrifying. Your body and mind had been deprived of him for far too long; each touch pleasantly overwhelmed your senses.

"Because, my dear, you are everything to me. I would have waited a century more for you if need be. Your cruel behavior only ignited my desire to reclaim your memories further. Nothing you do could ever make me stop loving you."

A lump formed in your throat from his admission. He spoke with such devotion. Alastor gazed at you; as if you hung the stars in the midnight sky. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, sliding yourself off the bar stool. Opting to find comfort beneath Alastor's embrace.

He wasted no time pulling you into his chest, cradling you in his arms as your knees collided with the floor. Alastor nestled his nose into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his smile against your skin. "Oh, how good it is to be home." He mumbled against the base of your throat. 

You pulled back to admire his countenance, arms still weaved around his shoulders. Alastor's eyes flickered from yours to your lips. You took the hint, bearing the initiative in closing the gap. You felt heat surge through your chest when your lips touched his. Alastor's mouth moved in tandem with yours. The kiss was tender and needy; as if it was the first and last embrace you ever shared. 

Alastor's hands explored lower. Large palms smoothing down the sides of your arms, then your waist. Only pausing in his exploration when his hands met your hips. Alastor squeezed them firmly, pulling your body flush against his as he deepened the kiss. Your body felt light and airy, and it wasn't from the alcohol you indulged in tonight. 

The kiss felt like it lasted for an eternity. You only pulled away from your lover when your lungs began to scream for air. "I'll never let you out of my grasp ever again. I plan to keep you close for the rest of eternity. Just as I planned all along, my darling." Your heart lodged itself in your throat from his words. You nodded fervently in agreement as a chuckle escaped you.

"I'll hold you to it, my love." Alastor's grin softened the longer he gazed into your eyes. Slowly, he rose to his feet, lifting you to yours by the grasp he had on your hips. You let out a gasp as Alastor hooked his arms under your thighs, lifting you off the ground. He held you bridal-style, making quick strides through the foyer and up the stairs. 

"Al! What are you doing?" You giggled, holding onto his shoulders tightly as he skipped two steps at a time, all thanks to his long legs. You admired his visage from this angle, enjoying the cheerful glint that swirled in his eyes. "Taking us somewhere more private, darling. We have a lot of lost time to make up for!"

yall want smut for the next part or..............

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts @villxinmiixx @persephoneblck @maxlynn17 @littledolly2345 @karolinda007-blog @falling-endlessly @greekyoghurtwithberries @bladeismine @aloraaaxcrystalzx @doctorswife221b @scaramoochiie @fairyv-ice @chirikoheina @veroneverleft @tired-of-life-86 @saccharine-nectarine @c-thegingergirl @tsunaki @geminixbunny @softangxlicss @alleystore @sirens-and-moonflowers @fairyv-ice @honey132 @alastorsaries @zenix108 @michi-keinz @fokrilove @yourdoorisunlocked @willowshadenox @izakyun @fangirlbitch02 @kyana-chan @aquariaries @sincerely-lorely @maxlynn17 @ivebeenthearchersstuff @kurinhimenezu @memospacexx @night-shadowblood-writes2 @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 @uhhhimbored @chaotic-smol @shoyosdoll @alitaar @resident-cryptid @nijiru @sunshinesetsstuff @toby33b @th3casscad3

[crushmeeren]

Hi, I know you aren’t taking requests right now but I didn’t want to forget it so I’m sending it now for Whenever you open request again.

How do you think the MHA boys would react to your new mom body and “you” being unsure about it. If can be fluffy and/or NSFW

Thank you! 🙂

hi anonnie! sorry for leaving this in my inbox for so long, kinktober was a BITCH. anywho, hope you enjoy and that I included the characters you wanted!

master list link

༝ ᭝ ༝ katsuki ༝ ᭝ ༝

Katsuki’s tired. His bones ache with exhaustion, and he wears dark, bruise like marks underneath his eyes that seem to weigh a thousand pounds. The bright light of his phone screen burns his eyes when he checks for the time.

03:30 a.m.

Katsuki moves gently as he sways back and forth in the rocking chair, his three month old furnace of a son snoozing peacefully on his chest. Finally.

One hand rubs up and down his baby’s back, the other arm supporting his butt. His son babbles softly in his sleep, and Katsuki tilts his head to press a kiss to soft wisps of blonde hair, lingering to deeply inhale the scent of new baby and lavender lotion. Red eyes start to droop, the flutter of his son’s heartbeat and his constant warmth lulling Katsuki to sleep.

His head jerks up with a start, desperately trying to stay awake, and so he rises to his feet, sweatpants falling a bit lower on his hips. With a quietness he’s never possessed before, Katsuki delicately lays his baby down without waking him. He pauses in the doorway, smiling tenderly in the direction of the crib before padding to your bedroom.

Katsuki’s ears perk when muffled sniffling greets him. Alarm bells ring in his head and he all but leaps into the bed, yanking the covers down to stare at you with wide eyes. The soft light of your bedside lamp exposes your tear stricken cheeks.

His stomach drops and then he’s crowding you, shoving himself into your personal space. “Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” He asks gingerly, brows furrowing as stretches his tank top to wipe your tears away.

Your lower lip wobbles when you bite down on it, and you launch yourself into Katsuki’s chest, knocking him onto his back with an “oof.” You shove your face into the side of his throat, arms curling as you cling to him.

“I can’t stand the way I look!” You sob, lips tickling his skin as you speak. Katsuki wraps you up in a tight hug, heart continuously splintering with each one of your labored sobs. “I love our son, so much, but looking in the mirror hurts.”

“Oh baby.” Katsuki’s voice cracks, firm hands framing your wet cheeks and guiding you to your elbows. He needs you to see the serious look his eyes. “Change is hard, but change is so fuckin’ good. You may not look exactly the same as before, but there’s not a damn thing wrong with that. You created our fuckin’ son. There’s nothin’ more beautiful to me in this world than that.” There are stars in his eyes as he gazes at you, cementing his belief in his own words.

Your expression crumples and you collapse onto his chest, soaking his shirt in tears as you hug him. “You promise?” You sniffle, tone a bit more hopeful than before.

“I swear on my fuckin’ life.” Katsuki secures you in his hold and rolls the two of you, hovering on one elbow as he pushes loose hair off your forehead. “Please, will you let me show you?”

The flush on your face forces a familiar honeyed heat to pool low in Katsuki’s belly, your sheepish nod all the permission he needs.

You gasp softly when his fingers slip your panties to the side, fingers barely touching your clit. It’s effortless for him to fill you completely with his thick cock, to press sweet words into your throat as he makes love to you. His chest is sticky with sweat, and you can’t get enough of the way he whines high pitched each time your pleasure overwhelms you and your pussy squeezes him.

Katsuki quite literally shows you how beautiful you are to him, and when you’re cradled on his chest afterwards, you start to believe that you are.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

༝ ᭝ ༝ shouto ༝ ᭝ ༝

“Will you shower with me?”

The lingering memories of warm water raining down on his skin, steam curling up into the air and your naked body run across Shouto’s mind. You raise an eyebrow in return, lifting your daughter from her high chair when she reaches for you.

“I don’t know, Sho.” Your gaze flickers to the side, avoiding direct eye contact. Shouto’s brows pinch together, frowning at your uncharacteristically shy response.

“Why?” It’s been ages since you’ve showered together. Since you’ve had sex, really. Not that he’s upset, he’s enamored with your daughter, but he misses you. A lot.

“I just don’t want to,” you say sharply, turning your back to him and walking towards your kitchen sink. Your tone doesn’t sit well with Shouto and he follows after you. He places a hand on your shoulder, hurt welling in his chest when you stiffen at his touch.

He lets his hand fall limply to his side. “Please, tell me what’s wrong. I want to understand.”

You sigh almost imperceptibly, slowly shifting to face him, and you hike your daughter further up on your hip. She giggles when she spots her daddy, little hands grabbing for him, and Shouto scoops her up with a loving smile.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” you mutter, eyes trained on the back of your daughter’s head, softly brushing white hair behind her ears.

Shouto blinks a few times. “What do you mean?”

“You know, with the hideous scars and all.”

“Oh.” The silence is deafening. You freeze, eyes widening as your head snaps upwards with a horrified expression. Your jaw opens and closes as you clutch his forearm in a death grip.

“Sho, no — wait, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry—,”

“Do you believe that I’m ugly? Even with my scar?” He asks, not unkindly.

You shake your head vigorously. “No, of course not! I think you’re beautiful the way you are.”

Shouto hums, hugging your daughter tightly to his chest. She grabs his shoulders, nuzzling her face into his neck. “So what leads you to believe it’s any different for me?”

“I didn’t think of it that way,” you admit, shrugging lamely, unable to come up with an answer. Shouto wordlessly laces his free hand with yours, and after settling your baby down for the night, he ushers you to your bathroom.

There’s no need to speak when Shouto helps you strip out of your clothes, goosebumps littering your arms when the fingertips of his left hand chill involuntarily and tickle your ribs. He’s bare within the minute, leading you under the hot spray of water in the next.

Shouto walks you backwards and presses you to the cool tile of the wall, steam circling upwards and suffocating the two of you. You grasp at his slippery shoulders, tilting your head while he leaves biting kisses along your throat. Shouto traces the c-section scar along your belly as if it’s something precious, touch featherlight before guiding you to flip and brace your hands on the wall.

The initial stretch of his cock sends a shiver of heat down your spine. The humid atmosphere making everything that much slicker, that much hotter. He places his hands over your scar to steady himself and holds you close, rolling his hips steadily until you’re crying his name and pushing at his belly because it’s too much.

Shouto’s determined to show you everyday that scars are to be cherished. They’re apart of you, and not a single inch of you could ever be ugly to him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

༝ ᭝ ༝ eijirou ༝ ᭝ ༝

It’s date night, and your fingers twitch with nerves as you finish putting up your hair. The two of you haven’t been able to go out alone for the past several months. Having a new baby is ruthless. It’s not for the weak, but you love every second of it, and you’re certain Eijirou does too.

It’s just…. You look different, now. Your body’s shifted and changed in ways you never imagined, but you wouldn’t trade your son for the world. It’s just taking more time than you expected to get adjusted in your new body.

Eijirou’s bright voice echoes in the living room, and your son’s echoing delighted peal of laughter warms your chest. With a defeated sigh, you glance at yourself in the mirror and smooth your hands over your stomach, tugging at your shirt.

Eijirou calls out to you and you tell him you’re ready, slipping on your shoes and mustering up enough fake confidence to fool your husband for the evening. When you round the corner, he’s pretending to toss your son up into the air, little happy squeals filling the air. You lock eyes with your husband and genuinely smile, halting next to them and kissing your baby all over his face.

Eijirou kisses him too, reluctantly handing him over to his mother, who graciously volunteered to be on babysitting duty for the night. Once you’re out, Eijirou’s positive energy is infectious, fueling all of his actions and tainting yours too.

Still, a voice in the back of your mind nags at you about your appearance, and gradually your demeanor wilts. Eijirou notices, but he tries to lift your spirits anyways, wanting to save the serious conversation for when you get home. He wants you to enjoy yourself for the time being.

Eijirou gives you space when you return home. He gives you space when you bid his mother goodbye and when you put your son down for the night.

But as soon as you’re alone, Eijirou’s holding your hands and walking backwards until he lands on the edge of the bed, guiding you to sit in his lap and straddle his thighs. He stares up at you, settling his hands on your hips with a puzzled look.

“What’s on your mind my love? You seemed distracted tonight.” He squeezes your hips encouragingly. You purse your lips together, squeezing your eyes shut in the face of your self loathing as you confess how you’ve been feeling.

“So yeah, it’s just been a struggle recently. I’m worried you won’t love me the same because of how different I look now.” You bite the inside of your lip, waiting on edge for his response.

“Look at me,” he demands, gentle yet firm, as always. Your eyes flash open and he places a large hand on your cheek. “Sweetheart, you’ve changed multiple times since we’ve met, and I’ve only ever thought you’ve gotten more beautiful. It’s no different this time. Your feelings are valid of course, but just know you’ve always been, and always will be, the stunning woman I fell in love with. Until death do us part, right?”

You’re can’t be held responsible for the bruising kiss you startle him with. Warm lips and the faint hint of Eijirou’s cologne filling your head with cotton and making your heart thunder. Actions mean more than words, and your husband demonstrates the truth of that statement.

He manhandles you to the side of your bed where a mirror rests on the wall across from you, bending you into some half form of a full Nelson to force you into a front row seat of your pussy swallowing his cock. Eijirou hooks his chin over your shoulder and the heat in his eyes burns you alive. He whispers filthy praise into your ear, sending you over the edge in record time.

Eijirou will remind you of your beauty each day for the rest of your lives, if that’s what it takes.

[bunny-1111]

I can hear the bells TN x reader

Theo Nott Oneshot.

...

There he was in all his glory, smile beaming, hair slicked back with that effortless elegance that made your heart flutter. A vision of what you’d always yearned for: Theodore Nott, standing at the altar, looking as if he’d just stepped out of your wildest daydreams.

You inhale deeply, the air thick with the scent of roses and whispered promises. This is it—you’re really getting married. It felt so surreal.

As you glance around the room, the soft glow of candlelight dances on the polished wood, casting a warm hue over the gathered friends and family, their smiles like sunshine piercing through clouds. Each face reflects the joy of the moment, but all you can focus on is him. Your heart pounds in your chest as you look down at your bouquet, a cascade of white peonies and deep crimson roses, the perfect contrast to your dress.

Finally, you lift your gaze, locking eyes with Theo. In that instant, the world falls away, and it's just the two of you. His deep-set eyes glimmer with unshed tears, his expression a mixture of awe and love. As you begin to recite your vows, emotion swells in your throat, choking you up. You can’t help but tear up as you promise him forever, your voice thick with emotion.

Theodore’s voice wavers as he speaks his vows to you, each word heavy with sincerity, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. It’s perfect; he is perfect.

“Now, you may kiss the bride,” a voice rings out, and you feel your heart leap as you lean into him. The kiss is electric, sweeping you off your feet and igniting a spark deep within. You melt into him, the world around you fading as the bells start to ring, echoing joyously through the air, a symphony to mark your union.

Chime, chime, chime.

You pull back, breathless and beaming, your hands entwined with his as you walk down the aisle, the bells ringing louder, enveloping you in their sweet sound.

But then—

“Shouldn’t they have stopped playing those bells by now?” you laugh, turning to Theo, whose smile is contagious.

He only grins, leaning in closer, but your vision starts to blur, and the sweet sound of the bells is still there, persistent, relentless.

Chime, chime, chime.

“Turn off the alarm, darling,” Theodore murmurs, sleep heavy in his voice as he turns over, arms wrapping around you tighter.

“Hmmm,” you respond, half-asleep, trying to shake the haze of slumber from your mind. The dream had to be real—the bell’s chime still reverberating in your ears, a lingering memory of what you had just experienced.

“Baby, the alarm,” Theodore repeats, his voice a gentle rumble as he leans over to turn it off. Reality crashes in, and you realise you’ve dreamt it all. It wasn’t wedding bells; it was your fucking alarm.

With a groan, you rub your eyes, staring at your surroundings—the familiarity of your room and the warmth of Theo beside you, warm and bare.

“What’s wrong?” he growls, pulling you back against his chest, his voice laced with sleep.

“No,” you whine, a small cry escaping as the weight of disappointment settles in your chest. You can almost feel the dream slipping away like sand through your fingers. It had been so perfect; you really thought it was real.

Theodore senses your distress, feeling your face scrunch against him. “Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is soft, laced with sleepy concern.

“I was having the best dream—we were getting married and—” you begin, the memory washing over you like a warm tide, bittersweet and beautiful.

“Oh, hunny,” he coos, his voice soothing as he runs a hand through your hair. ���Go back to sleep and dream on. It will happen, alright?” He tightens his hold around your waist, grounding you in the moment.

“Let’s just finish school first, alright? Go back to sleep,” he mumbles, his breath warm against your neck, pulling you closer as the remnants of your dream linger in the air.

You huff, shutting your eyes tightly, desperate to conjure the enchanting imagery of your wedding day once more. You long to drift back into that blissful dream.

[onyourhyuck]

EXCHANGE LESSONS | L.MK

Pairing: mark lee x fem!oc

Summary: You’re the top student in every subject and your classmate!mark asks for your help in science and you offer the unprecedented exchange lessons that leave him off guard.

genre: smut, tutoring, classmates, inexperienced female oc, the concept of virginity being taken (it’s a social construct but you get it) and dominant!mark. minor groping, pussy eating and penetrating sex. Releasing on stomach, unprotected sex (please use a condom irl)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You’re at the top of the food chain in every subject. Your desolated heart and effortless mind astounds the entire community around you. Since you’re such a smart and passionate individual, people doubt you have any flaws.

But that’s not so true. You do suck at one subject; Sex. Your body and mind leave your soul every moment you tried doing the most remote action like making out — you suck at it.

Perhaps it’s because you’re not comfortable enough with the person? Or maybe the idea of being sexually active is a new concept to you. This puts you at a frustrating disadvantage. You want to experience what it is like to be held by another person, to be worshipped and loved by every curve you have. You really want to experience intimacy. Someone’s hands holding your waist with fingers scrolling circles on your bare skin. Dancing out in heavy rain? Angry makeouts. Jealousy. You want to experience those rollercoasters of emotions. But you can’t because you’re missing the second person. This was no way a one man action.

That was until an opportunity arises. The boy in your class that wasn’t so good at any of his classes, barely scraping by. He had a thick foreign accent - and he never stops boosting about how he’s from Canada. He was visibly attractive. Most girls in your class fancy him.

Mark never really spent his day alone. Ever. There will always be people surrounding him. It’s like this was his world and we’re all just living in it you know?

“Hey Y/n,” A voice strikes up from behind. The boy standing only few inches from your height with a beige cap on backwards. It gave him a real bandboyish look today.

Your eyes dart to him. At first you look visibly confused but you manage to respond with a very soft greet. “Hey what’s up?”

You guys barely talk so this was all very new. The most talks you ever did was a simple ‘good morning’ to each other and never speak again. In fact this felt very awkward on your end.

Mark’s eyes look on the very left end of the lockers. The built tone body wearing these very baggy clothing press up on the metallic doors. Voice trailing off in an obvious direction. “Uhh, you know nothin’ much. The usual you know how it is.”

‘Yikes why does he look suddenly so guilty and suspicious?’ You question in your own mind. What was this strange feeling in your stomach? Like a hollow pit about to explode.

You mumbles quietly. “Right…”

Turning around your locker slams shut. The stuff you needed was carried by your arms. You thought this conversation had ended considering Mark wasn’t spitting out anything he wanted to say but the moment your back had turned on him, the boy quickly leaps in front of your path.

“Wait!” Mark stops you with two hands urgently.

You stop now with a small shock spread on your eyebrows and a visible streak of annoyance in your eyes.

“Tutor me! I want you to tutor me,” Mark said with a little pant to those syllables he stressed out with a stretch. Those hands come down and it really looks like for a moment he was embarrassed to ask. As if he had no idea how to ask you.

That’s all he wanted from you. It was a tutoring lesson so he could boost his grade up. Because lord knows he needs a good number. Otherwise he is finished with this class.

Your eyes line themselves on the boy. “You want me to tutor you?” You repeated back, Mark gave a simple nod. “Why me? You could have asked someone else.”

He furrows those eyebrows. “You seem- cool enough.” Mark then paused and panicked. Your expression seems unhappy by that anticlimactic response. “I mean! Your notes are cool and easy to understand. You explain things well.”

Well that came out wrong, what he wanted to say is you’re cool enough and you’re the smartest in the class. He doesn’t think he ever saw you get a bad grade.

Deep in your heart you couldn’t say no. Mark seems to be desperate for your help and you technically had an alternative motive. As bad as that sounds you can actually imagine losing your first deed to Mark. He was handsome, without a doubt you maybe fantasised getting off to him before. You don’t want to admit it but you did it more than once.

He was the new boy, wild and bright. Radiant and sweet. He was respectful, popular with everyone he hardly has any enemies. No one could hate a guy like Mark. He was a foreign exchange student from Canada and what more, he was an amazing soccer player last year. He won for your school club a trophy. He’s done pretty remarkable things.

Except his classes, which he severely needs your help with.

Sitting down in your bedroom, you constantly glance over to Mark who was sitting on the other end of your bed writing down on his notebook. To which your mind was at a war between asking him if he wants to do something else or if you should leave your stupid idea behind.

You are lost on how to approach the idea to him. You can’t just say ‘Hey let’s sleep together!’ And look like a sane person. Because that’s the opposite of normal. You barely know the guy too.

Your body lifts up your sweater and you nervously laugh it off. “Ahh it’s so hot, right? I should take this off.” Your hands pull off the warm fabric off your limbs and Mark looks up from his notes to glance at you. He looks at you for good three seconds.

The good look on your visible black tank top and cleavage exposing caught his eye but not enough for him to grasp your intentions. Instead Mark continues his work like the champ he was. Unbothered and gullible.

“Yeah? I feel normal.” Mark relies obliviously. You furrow your eyebrows and feel your stomach clench. Why was it so hard to ask Mark to have sex with you? It’s like the most difficult question for you.

And you never struggled with math questions before. You can’t believe it. Why was a simple risky move harder than school work.

He went back to doing his work. Thankfully you’re an amazing tutor so far your explanations did wonders for Mark. But you’re sat there staring at him with your eyes gawking.

You’re like an eagle pouncing, but you’re hesitant at the same time.

The boy did take notice of your stares and very acknowledged presence. But he didn’t know why and he doesn’t quite want to ask you, because what if that makes you pressured and embarrassed? Mark felt however very watched. Every movement of his pen. Every step of his breathing he makes on the same bed you’re sitting with him on.

It felt discomforting almost?

You clear your voice. “Mark have you ever had…” you pause because you’re suddenly getting to know how intrusive you are being. The boy’s head lifts up and he waits for you to finish.

“Have you ever had sex?” You begin again. You bite on your inner cheek which starts to make Mark flustered. From such a smart and disciplined girl you really have a way of starting conversations.

Mark nodded. “Yeah. Did you?”

Even if it was an inappropriate comment, Mark didn’t lie about it and he answered you truthfully. The boy didn’t know what to say at first. But what’s the harm in saying yes?

You don’t reply and you move a little closer to Mark holding your knees against your chest. Wearing shorts came in handy because Mark can see a full outline of your beautiful legs.

“What was your first time like?” You ask without answering him. Mark raised up his eyebrow thinking to himself. “Uhh,” he sits up on the mattress.

Mark brushed the pen down on the notebook. “I think it was with my girlfriend at the time.” You fully expected him to say some chick at the party but knowing his ex girlfriend was his first time, made this somehow really sweet and romantic.

Mark mumbles. “But what was your like?”

Your lips fell in a thin line. In an embarrassing way you turn away your gaze when your reply hits the taller quick.

“Mark I am a virgin,” You said it with a moment of clarity. He wasn’t sure why you’re still a virgin when you’re decently attractive and hella smart.

It somehow doesn’t make any sense.

Mark’s mouth drops like an umbrella sheet. “No way.” And you nod to show its the truth. Mark laughs a bit not in a mocking way but in a sense of disbelief to lighten up your mood.

He could tell you’re almost ashamed but he didn’t think that’s anything to be ashamed of. In any case he wonders if that’s a positive more than a con.

“Hey Y/n that’s not a bad thing you know that right?” He nudges your arms with his elbow with a smile.

You sigh a little. “I know but I want to experience it. I don’t really care about my virginity that much.”

“So how come you’re still a virgin? You’re pretty and smart.” Mark chuckles, he didn’t quite understand it. If you wanted to lose your virginity card so badly how come you still have it?

Your eyes look at him, your chance to tell him how clueless you are when it comes to sex arises. A part of you don’t want to tell him you’re bad at sex because that’s really embarrassingly stupid. Or the fact that you have no idea how to do anything. You can’t even figure out how kissing goddamn works!

You swallow down your own emotions. “I have no idea how to have sex.”

Moments later your eyes have glued together in what seems to be a staring competition. Mark didn’t think you’d be completely clueless. It came so naturally to him when he was about to do it for the first time. To you this was like a big deal.

Mark comes forward mumbling nervously. “You don’t know how to kiss either?” You shake your head a no.

The boy was silent until his eyes fell down to your lips. They look pretty, they seem very red and plum. He couldn’t grasp it but the guts clench in a sudden contraction.

“Do you want me to teach you?” Mark starts to ask you. Your face fell to the ground or it rather feels like it. He read your mind.

He was so nervous about it, he didn’t want to come off like a freaking creep to you. Little does he know you were begging for this offer.

He trails. “You know — like exchange lessons? You helped me with science and I can help with sex lessons.”

That doesn’t sound too bad to you. The deal was appealing. Your eyes sparkle up and come forward to kiss his lips. When you did the first gesture this said a lot to the boy before you. You were agreeing. You didn’t back away, your eyes were glowing at the idea of him teaching you what to do during sexual encounters. And thus, he opens his mouth slipping in slowly his tongue. Caressing your soft untouched mouth was like a dream come true. You were like melting ice the moment your mouth felt the warmth of the salivas mixing in as one. The kiss was slow at the beginning but occasionally you got the hang of the pace and Mark decided to spice it up.

He had to spice it up for you. Mark wanted to show you how it really is. What it really awaits you. The kiss springs from the bottom, a sudden piercing movement shocks you causing your moans to fall off.

Did he just bite your bottom lip? He smirks at your reaction and pulls you down on the bed. Hovering above your lean shoulders those grabby hands touch on your waist to position you a little downwards to his liking.

Mark kissed your neck, your jawline, down the side to your ears and your shoulders once your top slips off leaving you in your bra.

Your bra was a pretty blue colour. Mark smiles at your chest in slight adoration. Your eyes took a glimpse of his eyes and his lips have small kisses to your chest, to the cleavage. In between your breasts he brushed his face into the softness of your pillows.

“You know I’m surprised you’re a virgin.” He begins quietly, travelling his mouth down to your stomach till your navel touches.

Your feet curl up. This was somehow nerve wrecking but it feels good? But it’s so slow and it’s like he’s bringing you to rest.

“Why?” You ask out quietly.

Mark mumbles when his fingers reach the very entrance of your panty lining. He stops at your abdomen monitoring the shorts he took off. Your panty matches the colour to your lovely bra. You feel so warm between the flat stomach, his fingers slip your panties down to your legs half way.

Eyes look up to see your face. “You strike me as someone who knows everything.” He might be right. You come across as reliable person.

But you don’t know everything unfortunately, you’re only human and you doubt that Mark knows absolutely everything too. You smile shyly and close your thighs together.

This was embarrassing. You never really went further than kissing someone badly before. He could see everything but the moment your legs shut him off Mark gave a small nudge with his hands to pull your thighs apart gently.

“No hiding Y/n come on? Open up for me.”

Your hands cover your face as your legs open up like two doors. Mark smiles in awe but you couldn’t see that. The boy kissed your entrance, like a peck to the lips until those same lips kiss the inner thighs. He loved seeing your legs trembling from nothing but nervousness.

You really are a small ball of wreck.

He quietly says. “You’re pretty down there why are you so worried?”

He didn’t quite understand what was making you this anxious and you shudder when his tongue does kitten lick motions to your pussy. You’re unable to make any sense of what just happened, but all you know is that this feels too good to stop.

Tongue traps at your nub flicking his motions in left and right directions: your pelvis subtly lifts off the bed to roll back. Mark hums against your entrance, he was devouring you as if it’s his first time too. It feels too good for you and that’s what’s making him get off the whole idea: You feeling good.

His tongue went inside your small hole giving it a few thrusts of his tongue. His nose pressed right against your clit. Your burning hot skin flushes his face and your thighs squeeze when your stomach clenches so tightly. Without a warning you slip into oblivion.

Mumbling out highly. “Fuckfuckfuck m’gonna cum.”

Striving to give you the best orgasm of your life, Mark feverishly sucks on your edging pearl, your clit was practically swollen and this pushed you right off the edge just as he wanted you to. He was watching up at you from down there seeing your spine arch and your moans hit the back of your throat, so hoarse and sore. The way your eyes shut and your hands grip at anything nearby: the bed sheets, your breasts, his thick hair.

Pulling out of your wet slimey pussy from all the coating of saliva. You take a deep breath, Mark positions him above you he saw your bright reddish cheeks and your sparkling wet eyes. You look beautiful like this.

He whispers. “Do you still want to continue?”

Your mind was a fog but you never hesitated to reply to your classmate. “Yes, please.”

It��s definitely a sight to see. You’re being so adamant about it. Mark leans down and pulls down his rock solid crotch out. Those jeans slipped off and it leaves an ugly feeling when you’re hard in jeans.

It feels like a big weight lifted from him when it comes off. The boy sits back and gave you a glance as if he is telling you to come forward.

“Do you want to take the boxers off?” You heard him ask you. Your eyes light up and with your small hands pulling off his boxers. Mark gave you a dark gaze when his large cock springs up against his stomach. Your mouth waters just looking at it.

Your stomach made a small butterfly clutch too. You look at him in panic. “Whoa wait, will that fit?” You sound so dumbfounded. But Mark grinned and he rubs your thighs reassuringly.

“It can, it will. Trust me on this I’m the teacher here.”

He was right he was the teacher here and you’re just a mere helpless virgin. You lay down on the bed sheets when Mark moves on top of you his hard tip had to do a few teasing streaks on your entrance. You were anticipating him to just ram it in — but he wasn’t.

You were just impatient and Mark was a very patient guy who didn’t want to rush a process like this. At least for now he doesn’t have anywhere to be, what’s the rush right?

The tip was pushed out and back in, it was like a car reverse and driving forward. Your entrance was locked tight so Mark wants to stretch you out with just the tip. He had a feeling he might have to use two fingers before anything else is to happen. The boy pressed his thumb and rubs your clit. You mumble out a whine, and then his singular finger goes inside you just to do a little stretch here and there. The second finger was when it starts to feel too good for you. Your eyes shut and your voice starts to feel good.

He made his hand shake a little and then come out. Only for his tip to slip in fully in you and then gradually expand his shaft inside your pussy. You feel good, Mark was addicted to the feeling of his cock buried in your velvety new walls.

He grunts, his breath shaking. “Ah fuck Y/n, you feel better than i thought you would.”

It took every ounce of his body not to rut against you like a wild fucking beast, Mark moves up against your stomach. Your hands tremble upwards to hold his forearms.

“Mh! Fuck, it kind of hurts.” Your voice murmurs and the boy had his attention all on you. He was watching only your face when his body did the moving thing. When you told him it kind of hurts, Mark had a feeling the pain will turn to pleasure soon for you. All he could do was give a small ‘shh’ and a kiss on the forehead for you.

You’re kind of glad Mark is your first. He seems to be gentle and loving enough for this. If it was anyone else you don’t think they would be as supportive as he was to you.

A simple kiss on the forehead made your worries disappear. And you let him rut against your pussy that squelches on his shape, taking every single inch of his cock until he was balls deep.

He was right, the pain did turn to pleasure real soon.

He brushed some of your hair back from your face as his thrusts connect to his pivoting muscles and hips. Mark admires your honesty expressions too, he couldn’t help himself. You were pretty even in this state.

The boy brushed down your jawline, he leans to capture a kiss on your lips. Your voice slips off like a breathy breeze. “Mark — feels too good.”

He smiles down at you. “I know,”

Your thighs wrap themselves on his waist and that brought him deeper in a whole new position when he is pushing in your loving arms. And then you feel a strong urge in the stomach, something that’s about to explode.

Your eyebrow ends connect, furrowing. “M’think I’m gonna cum…”

You didn’t exactly know but the feeling was so intense it overlaps your hearing and your brain goes back moments later after the surging sensation washes over you.

Mark feels you cumming right on his cock, he grits his teeth together jawline attached with his remaining strength.

“Me too, I’m close, hold on.” He mumbles lowly until he fucks himself just enough to pull out of you and then flick his wrist down the shaft to paint you of his cum on your bare stomach.

Deeply breathing the boy pulls back on the bed, you achingly sit up with a small groan. You never felt your body become this sore.

Your eyes watch Mark as the boy brushed back his hair with his hand. You both look like visible messes. Sweating and panting.

Your lips curve into a small smile. “So, do you need help with anything else in your classes?”

Mark gave a visible chuckle somehow it feels like you’re going to be more of a distraction when you’re going to tutor him than he likes to believe.

“Uhh, let’s see.” He replies, looking at the studying materials you guys left unattended on the floor. Scattered is the right word more like.

“I think I prefer to Exchange Lessons.” He admits, causing you to chuckle.

Mark thinks you do too, considering you’re not disagreeing.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you!! Follow my blog for more and reblog it helps a girl out<3 ily

[justlemmeadoreyou]

intertwined* (hockey player!harry x figure skater!y/n)

summary: harry practices at the local ice rink every night, but lately, all he can think about is a specific figure skater that he admires from a distance. when she asks him for some "private" lessons on ice, will they give in to the stolen glances and undeniable tension?

words: 6k

warnings: smut, fluff. p in v sex (on the ice rink 🤭), kissing, dirty talk, cursing, creampie.

Harry tied the laces on his hockey skates tightly. His fingers were rough and calloused from years of practice. He could hear sounds coming from the rink - ice being scraped by skates, pucks hitting the boards, the coach's whistle. Harry gave his laces one final tug before grabbing his stick. 

He paused for a moment, taking in the familiar sights, sounds, and smells. The chilly air made goosebumps form on his arms. The rink was like a second home to him. Hockey wasn't just a sport - it was a huge part of who he was.

"Harry! Get out here!" one of his teammates yelled from the rink. They had already started drills.  

Harry grinned and headed out of the locker room. The cold air hit his face. He breathed it in deeply. The icy smell, the rubber pucks, the sweaty aroma - it all felt comforting to Harry. To others it might smell bad, but to him it smelled like the game he loved.

Harry stepped onto the ice and immediately relaxed. Gliding across the smooth surface, he fell in line with his teammates. They were doing intense drills - racing across the ice, passing pucks back and forth. Harry focused hard, practicing his puck handling, skating agility, and wrist shots.

"Keep it up, Styles! Work hard and you'll make it to the big leagues one day!" Coach Bradford yelled from the bench in his gravelly voice.

Motivated, Harry accelerated with a burst of speed. He weaved through cones and ripped slapshots on goal. By the end, he was drenched in sweat, hair matted to his forehead. 

Finally, the coach's whistle blew, signaling the end of practice. Harry stayed out, picking up scattered pucks, while his teammates headed off the ice. Their skates dug trenches as they went.

"Coming for pints later, Styles?" one of the guys called out to him with a grin.

"Think I'll stay and get some more practice in," Harry replied, already lining up pucks.

His friend chuckled and shook his head. "Course you will, ya hockey nut!"

Harry smiled to himself as he readied his stance at the face-off circle. He took some calming breaths, then launched slapshot after slapshot. Hockey was his happy place.

Suddenly, the sound of classical music echoed through the rink. Harry looked up, distracted, and saw a figure gliding onto the ice. It was Y/N, looking like an ethereal vision in her shimmery white skating outfit.  

Harry had seen Y/N around the rink before, but had never really paid attention. Now, he found himself utterly transfixed as she began gracefully spinning and leaping across the ice. Her every move was mesmerizing.

From his side of the rink, Harry gaped at Y/N in awe. He gripped his stick tightly as she performed effortless jumps and intricate spins. Her dance across the ice was like a carefully choreographed masterpiece.

Harry couldn't take his eyes off her. He watched, slack-jawed, as she launched herself into a triple lutz, rotating three times in the air before landing smoothly. Her practice was spellbinding.  

Y/N finally caught Harry staring at her from across the way. A flush spread over her cheeks, obvious even from a distance. She looked surprised to have an audience.

The tension broke when a rogue puck trickled across the ice, coming to a stop by Y/N's skates. She glanced down at it, then back at Harry.

"S-Sorry, didn't mean to bother you," Harry called out, feeling sheepish.

But Y/N just gave him a shy smile that dazzled him. "No worries, the rink's for sharing."

And just like that, the Hockey stud and the figure skating beauty shared their first interaction and smiles across the expanse of frozen ice.

Over the next few nights, Harry intentionally stayed late after hockey practice. Sure enough, Y/N was always there too, gracefully practicing her routines to soaring instrumental music. 

At first they kept their distance, staying on opposite sides of the rink. They exchanged polite hellos and "excuse me's" anytime they ventured close.

But Harry couldn't resist furtively watching Y/N whenever she attempted a jump or spin. The way she commanded the ice captivated him. Her movement was powerful yet delicate, athletic yet graceful. 

For her part, Y/N tried not to overtly gape at Harry as he drilled his hockey skills. But it was difficult to ignore his intensity and ferocity as he powerfully strode across the ice, ripping slapshots or stickhandling between cones.

Little by little, over those next evenings together, Harry and Y/N started making small adjustments. They angled their practices closer and closer to the center of the rink. Neither commented on it, but some unseen force seemed to be drawing them in from opposite ends.

One night, as Y/N spun directly in front of where Harry prepped pucks, he gasped audibly. "Wow..."

Y/N looked up, making accidental eye contact. Their gazes locked and she couldn't help but give him a tiny, coy smile before whipping around seamlessly into her next spin sequence.

Mesmerized, Harry felt his heart thump in his chest. He knew firsthand how much work went into athletic excellence like Y/N's skating. But there was also an indescribable artistry to the way she moved in tune with the music. It was spellbinding.

Harry was shaken from his trance by a puck smacking his shinguards. "Earth to Styles! You still with us, mate?" one of his teammates chirped with a grin from the bench.

Embarrassed to be caught ogling, Harry just sheepishly rubbed his neck. Over the past week of sharing the rink with Y/N, he had definitely lost some focus during team practices.  

He took a steadying breath and refocused on drills with renewed intensity. But even as he rejoined his linemates, he couldn't stop sneaking peeks through the corner of his eye at the lithe figure skater.

Later, just as the music crescendoed to a finish, Harry heard the distinct whisper of skates approaching him. He turned to find Y/N gliding to a stop nearby, cheeks delicately flushed from exertion and wispy hairs stuck to her neck with perspiration.

"You have really great puck control," she remarked shyly.

Harry's mouth went a little dry at her proximity and floral scent mixing with the icy air. "Th-thanks. And your skating is just...amazing."

Y/N let out a tinkling laugh at his flustered words. "Actually, I was going to ask if maybe you could give me some hockey tips sometime? It could really help with my edgework and connecting to the ice."

"Yeah, seriously? Of course!" Harry eagerly agreed before she even finished asking. He would've said yes to virtually any request to spend more time around this entrancing girl. "But uh, I should warn you...I'm a pretty intense coach," he added with a lopsided grin.

Y/N just playfully rolled her eyes. "I can definitely handle you."  

She skated backwards a few strides, flashing him a brilliant smile that made his heart flutter. "So I'll see you out here again tomorrow night then...Coach?"

Harry nodded, unable to contain his own wide smile. "It's a date."

A strange new energy seemed to crackle between them in the cold rink air. Harry's gaze lingered on Y/N as she glided off elegantly, unable to tear his eyes away from the hypnotic sway of her hips beneath her gossamer skating skirt.

As soon as she disappeared into the locker room, Harry let out a long exhale he didn't realize he'd been holding. He felt completely bewitched by this girl - her beauty, her talent, her effortlessly disarming presence.  

For years, hockey had been Harry's sole obsession, his all-consuming priority. But in this moment, he could feel another obsession taking hold - one with this sublime, mysterious figure skater who had seemingly materialized into his life. 

Gathering up the scattered pucks, Harry definitely sensed that tomorrow's "hockey lesson" was bound to be interesting...

***

The next evening, Harry arrived at the rink extra early, feeling uncharacteristically anxious. His stomach was doing bizarre somersault twists - an unusual sensation for him before stepping out onto the ice. Normally the rink was his haven, the one place he felt most at home and at peace. But tonight, he was practically vibrating with nervous anticipation.

Harry had been distracted all day, struggling to focus during classes and his morning workout at the gym. Tonight's private "lesson" with Y/N kept replaying over and over in his mind like a maddeningly catchy song stuck on repeat. He couldn't quite put his finger on why the prospect of helping her with hockey drills made him so jittery. It's not like he'd never tutored teammates or younger players before. 

But something about the thought of being alone on the ice with the lithe, beautiful figure skater sent Harry's heart fluttering in a way he'd never experienced. Usually so self-assured and confident, Harry was uncharacteristically self-conscious as he laced up his skates tonight. He fussed over making sure his wild chestnut hair didn't look too disheveled, and discreetly applied some of his musky cologne before leaving the locker room.

Stepping out onto the dimly-lit rink, Harry gave himself a little pep talk to quell his inexplicable nerves. "Come on, Styles, get it together. It's just a bloody skating lesson, for fuck's sake. You've been playing hockey since you could walk! What's there to be nervous about?"

But then his breath hitched as he spotted Y/N already out on the ice, gently coasting along with her arms hugged around herself. She seemed to almost glow in the soft lighting, a breathtaking vision in her sleek athletic attire that clung to every tantalizing curve. Her lithe form effortlessly flowed with each stride across the smooth ice.

Sensing she wasn't alone anymore, Y/N slowed to a stop and turned to face Harry with a shy smile. "Oh! Hey there, Coach. Shall we get started then?"

"Y-Yeah, of course! Let's do this," Harry replied with an overcompensating bravado, giving his head a little shake as if to dispel his nerves.

Y/N giggled at his awkward bravado, the tinkling sound making Harry's heart skip a beat. "Don't look so tense! It's just me."

Her teasing only made Harry feel more flustered as a smile tugged at his lips. "Exactly. It's...just you."

They both let those words hang there heavy between them for a moment, their eyes locked together across the wide ice. Then, as if through unspoken agreement, they simultaneously broke into laughter at their own silly tension.

"Right, okay then! Let's start with some basic stickhandling and power skating drills," Harry finally announced in his best "coaching" voice, scooping up a few pucks.

"Lead the way, Coach Styles!" Y/N gamely agreed with a grin.

For the next little while, some of Harry's nerves settled as he fell back into that familiar pattern of running drills, feeling assured and authoritative in his element. He put Y/N through a series of intense stickhandling routines - dribbling the puck between complicated cone patterns, making tight turns while handling the puck in circles, deking around obstacles with fast crossovers.

To her credit, Y/N worked diligently and didn't complain once, even when sweat began dampening her brow. Her exceptional skating prowess and coordination definitely helped her pick up hockey skills quickly. But the occasional fumbles and slips still drew some gentle teasing from Harry.

"Not quite, figure skater! You've got to keep your edges lower on crossovers," he tutted, flashing her a smirk as she wobbled slightly after messing up a pivot.

"Oh do forgive me, your Highness! Some of us don't have as much practice making aggressive cuts back and forth, you know!" she shot back with a laugh, planting her hands on her hips.

"No excuses, no excuses! How else are you gonna improve?" Harry quipped, skating lazy circles around Y/N while she caught her breath. His gaze kept drifting down to the sheen of sweat glistening along the graceful curve of her neck.

They fell into an easy back-and-forth banter, with Harry analyzing her form and gently course correcting when needed. For her part, Y/N chirped right back and seemed utterly unafraid to get a little sassy with her "coach."

At one point, after completing a rapid succession of puck handling sequences, Harry noticed a few loose strands of Y/N's hair had escaped her French braid to stick damply against her flushed face and neck. Before he could even really process the impulse, Harry found himself reaching out to gently brush the damp locks behind her ear.

Both of them froze at the sudden intimate gesture. Harry opened his mouth to quickly apologize for the overstep. But the words died in his throat when he glanced up and found Y/N gazing at him through hooded lids, her coy smile and flushed cheeks making his heart restart with a hard thud.

"I, uh...think you're ready to move on to some shooting drills now," Harry rasped in a low tone, reluctantly taking a step back and scooping up a few pucks.

They settled into the familiar rhythm of Harry rapidly feeding Y/N pucks while she whipped shot after shot towards the empty net. Her skating power and edgework were superb as she leaned into the lightning-fast wristers, putting her full body weight behind every blistering attempt on goal.

But as the drill progressed, Harry could see Y/N's form gradually getting sloppier as fatigue set in. Her shots lost some of their zip, her tight core beginning to hunch over. When one weak wrister fluttered harmlessly wide of the net, Harry blew his whistle to pause the action.

"Take a break for a minute, get some water," he urged in a tone much gentler than his usual coaching bark. Harry skated over to the bench and grabbed his own water bottle, downing a long pull. He watched Y/N do the same out of the corner of his eye as she bent over, those same wispy strands of hair falling to curtain her flushed face once more.

As she straightened back up, Harry felt his breath catch in his throat at the way Y/N's tight athletic top clung to her curves, damp with perspiration. He subconsciously licked his lips, feeling his mouth go dry with a sudden burst of dizzying arousal. Quickly looking away, Harry scrubbed a hand through his wild locks and cleared his throat roughly.

"Not bad at all for your first go with hockey drills. You've definitely got the fundamentals down pat."

Y/N shot him a radiant smile, seeming utterly unaware of the effect she was having on her coach as she smoothed back her sweaty hair. "Well, I do have an awfully good teacher pushing me hard."  

"Don't sell yourself short," Harry countered, feeling his pulse spike at her playful flirtiness. He tried to keep his tone casual, but his voice still came out a bit lower and rougher than intended. "Your strong core, killer edges, and flexibility from skating give you a really solid base for hockey skills."

"Why Coach Styles, are you saying I have...a killer body?" she teased, enjoying how flustered she could make the supremely confident hockey stud.

Harry's jaw dropped open, her boldness utterly disarming him. "I-I, well I didn't...that's not exactly what I-"

But Y/N just giggled and skated backward, waving him off. "I'm just joking around! Let's keep going, yeah? But maybe take it a little easier since it's my first time handling your...stick."

She drew out the last two words with a salacious wink, throwing Harry completely off his game. His face reddened instantly, sputtering incoherently as an entirely different kind of tension suddenly clung thick in the air between them.

Seeming to realize she'd flustered her coach a bit too much, Y/N reigned in her playful teasing with an apologetic smile. "Too far?"

"No! No, it's...it's all good. Just caught me off guard is all," Harry said quickly, giving his head a little shake to clear it as a lopsided grin formed. Two could play at this flirtatious game. "Let's just say I'm happy to give you a few pointers on stick handling whenever you need it."

Y/N sent him an exaggerated wink, taking her position again. "Looking forward to it, Coach."

And just like that, the heavy undercurrent of sexual tension dissipated again as they refocused on their drills. But it was like a lingering spark had been lit between them, little flirty moments flickering to life occasionally as the practice session wore on.

At one point, Harry skated past closely behind Y/N to scoop up a rogue puck, making sure his firm chest brushed along her back ever-so-slightly. He definitely didn't miss the shiver that licked down her spine at the brief contact, even in the chill of the rink.

Another time, as he demonstrated a proper shooting stance with a high wrist shot, Y/N sidled up to his side. "Like this?" she murmured huskily, purposely pressing her lithe body flush against Harry's sculpted torso as she mimicked his firing motion.

Harry gulped thickly at their sudden intimate proximity, feeling his breath quicken. "Y-Yeah, just like that..." he rasped out, unable to tear his gaze from the delicate slope of Y/N's neck just inches away.

Oh, the smell of ice mixed with her intoxicating perfume, all he wanted to do was take a bite.

With a wicked grin, Y/N slowly extracted herself from Harry's personal space, leaving the poor guy almost dizzy and aching for her warmth again. This girl was going to be the death of him.

After nearly two hours of rigorous back-and-forth drilling, skating lap after lap across the rink, they were both finally drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Y/N paused for a long pull from her water bottle before tossing it aside carelessly and gliding right up to Harry with a gleam in her eye.

"I've got one last request for my hockey tutor..." she said in a low, sultry tone as she drew closer and closer until the heat of her body mingled with Harry's.

He swallowed hard, feeling his heart thundering beneath his sweat-soaked jersey. "Y-Yeah? What's that?"

With a sly grin, Y/N reached out and boldly rucked up the hem of Harry's jersey until it bunched up beneath his armpits. Then she openly raked her heated gaze over every toned inch of his sculpted abdomen and chest now deliciously exposed.

"I want you to show me..." she purred in a low, gravelly tone, "how you celebrate after scoring a big goal."

Harry felt like all the air had been punched from his lungs as her words and blazing look washed over him. He stood there frozen, abdominal muscles twitching beneath her roaming eyes. When she slowly dragged her tongue across her plump lower lip, Harry was utterly undone.

In one swift motion, he grabbed Y/N by the hips and hauled her flush against his body as he crashed his lips onto hers in a searing, desperate kiss. She gasped in surprise against his hungry mouth before instantly melting into the embrace, her fingers fisting into his damp hair.

Their kisses were immediately messy and uncoordinated, all instinct and pent-up longing as they finally gave in to the thick tension that had slowly simmered during their private lesson. Harry angled his head, deepening their liplock as his hands gripped Y/N's lithe waist almost punishingly. She rolled her hips shamelessly against the unmistakable bulge in his athletic pants, earned a guttural groan from Harry.

"Fuck...you're going to be the death of me, you bloody tease," he growled against the sleek column of her throat as his lips blazed a hot trail across her overheated skin.

Y/N laughed breathlessly, the sound shooting straight to Harry's groin. "I'd say I'm sorry...but I'm really, really not."

Growling again at her cheekiness, Harry abruptly spun them both and shoved Y/N up against the dasher boards, pinning her there with his body as his large hands roamed greedily over her petite frame. Bunching up her sleek workout top, he leaned down to trail openmouthed kisses along the soft swell of her belly and up between the lace-capped valley of her breasts.

Y/N squirmed and writhed shamelessly against Harry, little whimpery pants escaping her bitten lips as his calloused hands roamed every inch of her overheated skin finally bared to his wandering touch. Threading her fingers through his wild hair, she tugged his mouth back up to hers for another messy clash of dueling tongues and harsh breaths.

"Harry..." she whined out between electrifying kisses. "I want...I need..."

"What, love? Tell me what you need," he rasped against the swell of her parted lips, hips rutting shamelessly against her core as he pinned her harder to the unforgiving boards.

She gazed up at him through heavy-lidded, lust-darkened eyes, chest heaving. In answer, Y/N boldly reached down and cupped the  bulge tenting the front of Harry's pants. An audible groan punched out of him at her touch, his forehead thudding weakly against the brows by her head.

"Jesus...are you sure? Here on the rink like this?" he questioned, even as his hips grinded shamelessly into her exploring palm.

"I've never been more sure of anything," Y/N whispered urgently. She nipped at his kiss-swollen lower lip, peering back at him through dense lashes. "I want you so fucking badly right here, right now. Please, Harry...I need you inside me."

That was all the encouragement Harry needed before crashing his lips back to Y/N's in another messy, fiery kiss. One large hand slid around to cup her arse, grinding her core more firmly against the rigid length of him. She rewarded him with a broken whimper into his mouth.

With his free hand, Harry blindly tugged Y/N's leggings and knickers down in one impatient tug until they were a rumpled pool around her ankles. She quickly kicked them aside, spreading her thighs wantonly as Harry settled in the cradle of her hips.

They both groaned in unison as the their centres made contact, Harry's clothed length nestling snugly against Y/N's slick, molten heat. Reaching between their flush bodies, Y/N deftly freed Harry's straining cock to spring free from the confines of his pants. She traced the plump velvet head teasingly, drinking in Harry's desperate whine against her lips.

"Fuck me..." Harry panted, rutting shamelessly against her hand. "Y/N, please let me fuck you, baby."

That was all the encouragement she needed before guiding his broad tip to her entrance. They both cried out in unison as Harry bottomed out in one slick thrust forward, his thick cock fitting snugly inside her with a soft punch of air. The thick length prodded into her deliciously, kissing the back of her damp cervix. They stilled together for a wild heartbeat, trembling mouths and sweat-dampened foreheads pressed flush as they adjusted to the heady feeling of being so intimately connected.

Harry was the first to move, withdrawing his hips in a slow grind before slamming back home, driving a guttural moan from Y/N's parted lips. He set a punishing pace, his strong arms and thighs flexing with the effort of moving them both against the rigid boards. Y/N wrapped her toned legs high around his flexing hips, nails raking down his rigid back as he jackhammered into her welcoming body over and over.

“Oh fuck, Harry-just like that, like that, yeah–” Y/N moaned once more, grinding her hips against his pelvis, his cock twitching isnide her cunt at the sensation.

“Oh Jesus, you’re so damn hot, you know taht?” he panted into her mouth, their damp clothes sticking togtehr in a sweaty mess. But the way they made each other feel, it was all worth it.

They panted out harsh, shuddering breaths, slick skin slapping together obscenely in the silence of the empty rink. Y/N babbled out breathy moans and curses, struggling to muffle the loud echoes with her face buried in the sweaty curve of Harry's neck. She bit down on it occasionally, earning a groan from him as she paired it with desperate clenches around his length.

But her unraveling cries only spurred him on, his cock driving into her with rougher, more frantic strokes until they were both hovering right on the edge.  

With a few more powerful snaps of his hips, Y/N’s back arched like a bow and screamed out her climax, creamy inner walls fluttering spastically around Harry's thick length. The sudden gripping contractions yanked Harry's own orgasm from him in hot bursts as he brokenly shouted out his release, teeth sinking into the supple juncture of Y/N's neck and shoulder, something he had been waiting to do since teh night they met.

They clung together in a sweaty, panting jumble of sated limbs, chests heaving as they slowly drifted back to earth. Little aftershocks still rippled through them both until finally Harry drew his head back, blissfully dazed as he gazed at the thoroughly rumpled and glowing girl in his arms.

"Well...I'd say you definitely scored one hell of a goal," Y/N panted out breathlessly after a moment, trying for a coy smile despite her wild disarray.

Harry tipped his head back and laughed, the sound bright and carefree as he peppered fresh kisses along Y/N's heated cheek and jaw. "Lucky shot, beautiful..."

They held each other for a long stretch, neither willing to break the intimate embrace just yet despite the chilled rink air now raising goosebumps across their sweat-slickened skin. Harry nuzzled deeper against Y/N's neck, breathing in her lingering floral scent heavily tinged with sweat and arousal.  

Eventually though, Harry reluctantly eased Y/N's trembling legs back to the floor, steadying her with a firm arm around her waist. Looking around the dim rink with a lopsided smile, he gave a low chuckle at the state of complete disarray - sopping workout clothes, towels, and water bottles strewn everywhere around them, plus a naughty new addition of Y/N's lacy panties lying crumpled against the boards where their heated frenzied began.

Y/N looped her arms loosely around Harry's neck, her coy eyes sparkling with mirth as she gazed back at him adoringly. Harry leaned in again to capture her lips in a sensual, unhurried kiss, reveling in the taste and feel of her. When they finally broke apart again, he pressed his forehead to hers with a contented sigh.

"Fancy grabbing a pint with me when we're done cleaning up this unholy mess?" Harry murmured, pressing his forehead to Y/N's with a contented sigh. "I'll even let you order me around a bit more."

"Is that supposed to be an incentive?" Y/N countered with a throaty chuckle, lazily trailing her fingertips through the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. "Because I was rather enjoying calling the shots just now."

"Oh you cheeky minx," Harry growled playfully before surging in to capture her lips in another heated kiss. He walked them backwards until Y/N's back hit the boards again with a dull thud, caging her in with his body as his large hands roamed eagerly over her bare curves.

Y/N mewled softly into his ravenous mouth, welcoming the slide of his tongue stroking intimately against her own. Her limbs felt heavy and lax, muscles still tingling from the mind-blowing release mere minutes ago. But she could already feel a new ember of need beginning to stoke low in her belly as Harry's sweat-slicked skin glided feverishly against hers.

One of his big hands boldly slid down to cup her arse, hauling Y/N's pliant body flush to grind against the feel of his new arousall. She gasped at the electrifying friction, breaking their liplock on a broken whine.   

"Harry...already? I can barely feel my legs!"  

"Sorry love, what was that?" he rumbled right back, swirling his hips in a deliberate grind to drag his impressive length along her drenched folds. "Did you want me to stop?"  

"No! God no, please don't stop," Y/N hurriedly corrected on a breathless keen as Harry sealed his mouth over her thundering pulse point. His other large hand boldly palmed her breast, callused thumb rasping over her peaked nipple until she shuddered.  

"Good girl," he praised in a gravelly tone before biting down sharply on the tendon at the base of her throat.  

Y/N jolted with a strangled cry at the tantalizing sting, her back bowing sharply away from the unforgiving barrier at her spine as her legs instinctively scissored wider around Harry's hips. Lust roared through her veins again, thick and heady as their slick skin slid together with the beginnings of a fervent grind.  

Lips and teeth clashed in a heated duel once more, the rink filling with harsh pants and whines muffled against sweat-dampened skin. Harry was already throbbing and more than ready to bury himself back inside Y/N's snug, fluttering heat. But he purposefully held off, delighting in slowly winding them both into a lascivious frenzy with nothing but sinuous rolls of his hips and fervent caresses.  

"Need you inside me," Y/N groaned at last, using her heels to dig into Harry's firm arse and pull him infinitesimally closer until his rigid length prodded against her drenched entrance. "Harry please, I can't wait anymore. Fuck me again, love."  

He gave a gruff sound of approval at her shameless pleading, the authoritative command fueling his already ravenous lust into an outright inferno. Capturing her mouth in another seering kiss, Harry easily hitched Y/N's leg up over his hip before finally sheathing himself inside her with one powerful snap of his hips.  

They both cried out in unison at the feeling of being so intimately reconnected, Y/N's sweet whimper swallowed by Harry's desperate groan. He set an immediately brutal pace, pulling nearly all the way out before pounding back in with punishing strokes, letting the delicious tension coil and crescendo.  

Y/N's broken whimpers and moans filled the rink, echoing back at them from the vacant rafters as her petite frame was pinned and jolted by Harry's fervent tempos. One hand scrabbled at the abused boards behind her, trying in vain to find purchase as the other fisted and yanked wildly through Harry's sweat-dampened locks.  

"Yes! Yesyesyes..." she babbled mindlessly on each jarring upstroke that grinded deliciously against that molten front wall of nerves. "Oh fuck, Harry...just like that, god yes!"  

Harry only growled in response, using his bulk and powerful thighs to hammer into her molten core with somehow even more brutal strokes. His teeth found purchase on the feverish juncture of Y/N's neck and collar, sucking a blossom of arousal to the surface as his hips snapped forward in a punishing grind.  

It went on that way, the only sounds filling the rink their harshly mingled cries and the thunderous squelch of flesh meeting slickly in an unforgiving, wild rut. As they spiraled ever higher towards their mutual crescendos, Harry and Y/N's movements turned almost frenzied and animalistic in their unbridled need.  

With a few more piston thrusts of his hips, Y/N detonated first. Her eyes rolled back and mouth dropped open on a guttural, sobbing cry of rapture. Every muscle in her lithe body locked up in an archway of pure ecstasy, inner muscles fluttering as she fell over the sweet euphoric release, her stomach tingling with adoration as he looked at her like she was the oly woman in the world.

“Fuck me…” she giggled, but it was immediately transformed into a broken moan as his hips snapped into her quivering entrance once more, her back arching towards his mouth as he latched onto her swollen nipples once again.

His hips snapped inside her–once, twice, thrice–before he was spilling himself inside her, her warmth clinging to him like a comforting embrace that made both their hearts skip a beat.,

***

After their intense intimate encounter on the ice, Harry and Y/N took a few moments to catch their breath and bask in the afterglow. They held each other close, exchanging tender kisses and caresses as their rapidly beating hearts eventually began to settle.

Looking around at the state of disarray they had left the rink in - scattered equipment, towels, water bottles strewn about - Harry chuckled softly against Y/N's tousled hair. "I'd say we've properly christened this ice in a completely unholy way."

Y/N laughed lightly, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. Even amid the chill of the rink, she felt deliciously warm and content cocooned in Harry's strong embrace. "Well they do say no place is too sacred for certain activities."

"Cheeky thing, you are," Harry murmured affectionately, trailing his knuckles along the gentle curve of her flushed cheek. He dipped his head to capture her lips in another lingering kiss, savoring her taste and the feel of her body melting against his.

Eventually they knew they should disentangle and start cleaning up the rink before someone came across the incriminating scene of their tryst. With some reluctance, they separated just enough to hastily redress in their rumpled athletic wear.

As Y/N shimmied back into her leggings, she sent Harry a coy look from beneath her lashes. "So...did I pass my hockey training with flying colors then, Coach?"

Harry snorted at her playful quip, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I'd say you earned an A+ for effort...among other things," he replied with a lopsided smirk.

They fell into an easy back-and-forth banter as they straightened up the rink, tossing towels and equipment into haphazard piles. Every so often, their gazes would meet and linger with a lingering heated undercurrent simmering between them.

Once they had restored some semblance of order, Harry tossed his duffel over his shoulder and took Y/N's hand, lacing their fingers together. "C'mon, let me buy you that pint to celebrate your...excellent performance review."

"Mmm, I do love a good performance incentive program," Y/N quipped, falling into step beside Harry towards the exit. 

An easy, companionable silence fell over them as they made their way out of the deserted rink and into the crisp night air. Stealing a glance at the beaming beauty beside him, Harry felt a contented calm settle over his usual manic hockey intensity.

He wasn't sure what this new...relationship?...with Y/N would hold. But in that moment, just reveling in her presence and their newfound intimacy, Harry found he didn't really care about the future. He was happy to just bask in the feeling of her hand in his and the memory of her cries of pleasure echoing through the rafters.

As they strolled along, their joined hands swung lightly between their bodies. Harry grinned to himself, already wondering if he could convince Y/N of a repeat "lesson" very soon...

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[writerfromshikahr]

I want to state this is not a "hate Neve" piece. I wrote this originally as a bit of a tongue in cheek nod to players (perceived) frustrations about the flirting between Neve and Lucanis if you're romancing him. It was a one off piece originally and then a friend of mine encouraged me to write the whole damn thing. It's silly and probably not the best writing I have ever done, but it's a fun read (oh and long)!

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First Cut - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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It had been a mistake to stay in the room earlier, to stand there and watch Lucanis and Neve exchange flirtatious banter.

Neve had laughed, bright and melodious, and Lucanis had responded with a smile that seemed to light up the whole damn Lighthouse. Right in front of her. In front of her. The pang in her chest had been immediate and deep, leaving her breathless and struggling to maintain her composure.

Now, as she stood in the quietest corner she could find, away from everyone else, the hurt replayed itself over and over, accompanied by the cruel voice of self-doubt that she couldn’t quiet. What did you think would happen, Rook?…she chided herself. That he’d notice you when someone like Neve exists?

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the familiar burn of embarrassment. Of course, Lucanis liked her. Why wouldn’t he? Neve was stunning, with her sleek, sophisticated appearance and the grace of a refined Minrathous mage. She always had the perfect thing to say, remaining calm under pressure and exuding an effortless charm that captivated everyone. Neve was flawless. Neve was everything a woman should be.

Rook, on the other hand, was… well, she let out a humourless laugh. She was “pleasantly plump,” as one Crow had called her, with thick thighs and a belly she had long since stopped trying to hide. Her Crow leathers had to be adjusted to fit her more comfortably around her hips and legs. Where Neve embodied elegance, Rook was simply Rook. Awkward, self-conscious, and hopelessly bad at saying anything clever, she always seemed to trip over her words or, worse, blurt out something completely foolish at the worst possible moments.

You thought he felt the same way about you, didn’t you? Her heart twisted painfully at the realization. What a cruel joke. The way he had looked at Neve today was proof enough, wasn’t it? She wasn’t his type. The message was received—loud and clear.

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Rook had become a master at avoidance over the past few days, though it was starting to wear her thin. Every time she caught a glimpse of Lucanis, her heart clenched painfully, so she did what she could to keep her distance. She slipped out of rooms when he walked in, buried herself in tasks that required her full attention, and, when it came to conversation, she only offered clipped, polite responses to Neve, refusing to engage in anything more. It hurt to keep her walls up, but it was the only way she could cope.

Instead, she found herself spending more time with Davrin and Assan, grateful for the easy friendship they shared. Davrin, with all his swagger and occasional theatrics, had a way of making her smile even when her heart felt heavy. He was like the big brother she never had, someone who made her feel safe and seen without any of the complications that seemed to swirl around Lucanis. And with the added charm of Assan, Davrin’s adorable toddler griffon companion, there was always something to laugh about.

Today, they’d ventured out to the Arlathan Forest, a welcome reprieve from the Lighthouse and all the tangled emotions that currently lived there. The forest was peaceful, a canopy of golden leaves rustling overhead, and Rook felt some of her tension ease. She and Davrin found a small clearing atop a rocky outcrop, perfect for Assan to practice his flying. The young griffon flapped his wings with eager determination, making little leaps and swoops that brought a genuine smile to Rook’s face.

They settled on the smooth granite, sharing a simple lunch of bread and cheese, and conversation flowed easily between them. Davrin regaled her with tales of growing up in Arlathan, his voice full of life and humour, and she listened, fascinated by his stories. In turn, he asked her questions about the Crows, and she answered as best she could, occasionally making light of some of the darker aspects of her life. They even exchanged stories about their respective fights—the Grey Wardens and their eternal struggle against Archdemons, and the Crows with their endless contracts and rivalries. Despite Davrin’s opinions about her line of work, he respected her. They had built a solid friendship, and she had come to value it deeply.

He could tell she needed this time away, and so he did what he did best: kept her entertained and laughing. Still, even with all the humour and warmth between them, Davrin wasn’t blind. He’d noticed that something seemed off, that Rook was more distracted than usual. And, more curiously, he’d noticed the absence of Lucanis. Usually, the two were practically joined at the hip, their bond undeniable. But now… there was a definite shift, and he wasn’t sure how—or if—he should bring it up. As he watched her thoughtfully, he finally spoke up, trying to sound casual.

“So… you gonna tell me what’s got you all twisted up, or are we just gonna pretend you haven’t been acting like your mind’s somewhere else entirely?”

Rook looked at him, startled by the question, but then she sighed, her shoulders sagging. She had hoped that spending time with Davrin and Assan would make her forget the pain, but there was no escaping how deeply it cut her. “It’s nothing,” she said softly, but even she could hear the lie in her voice.

Davrin didn’t push. He knew her well enough to know when to leave things be. Still, he reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze, his usual cheeky grin softening. “Well, whatever it is, you know I’ve got your back, right?” Assan warbled in agreement, flapping his wings like he was seconding the sentiment.

Rook’s lips twitched into a small smile. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough to have someone who cared, someone who could make the world feel a little bit brighter. Even if she couldn’t outrun her feelings, at least she had friends who made the burden easier to carry.

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Lucanis’s gaze lingered on Rook, his expression dark with confusion and frustration. She had gone out of her way to placing as much distance between them as possible, choosing the spot farthest from him at the table, right between Davrin and Taash. She occasionally spoke, and her lips curved into a soft smile when Davrin leaned in to whisper something that made her laugh. The sound, bright and genuine, only twisted the knife deeper into Lucanis’s chest. She hadn’t even spared him a single glance.

He took a sip of his soup, the taste barely registering, and let out a sigh that was loud enough to draw Lace’s attention as she grabbed seconds and plopped down beside him. “This is one of the best meals you’ve cooked, Lucanis,” she said with a grin. “Seriously, it’s delicious.”

He mustered a small smile at the compliment, but his eyes drifted back to Rook. He missed her terribly—her company, their conversations, and, most of all, the way her laughter used to be directed at him. Now, it was as if he had become invisible. What did I do? he thought, trying to piece together where he’d gone wrong.

Neve, who had also taken a seat nearby, picked up on his brooding mood. She arched an eyebrow and gave him a teasing smile. “Don’t tell me my assassin is feeling broody this evening?” she asked, her tone playful.

Lucanis’s eyes flicked over to her, unfocused. “What?”

Neve rolled her eyes, grabbing a piece of bread and dipping it into her soup. “I said, you seem broody tonight,” she repeated, though she didn’t seem all that concerned about it.

He nodded, distracted, and looked back at Rook, who was still doing her best to ignore him. “Perhaps I am, Neve,” he replied, the words tasting bitter. It was infuriating how Rook refused to acknowledge him as if he’d become a ghost. He had replayed every conversation and every moment from the past few days, trying to figure out when he might have crossed a line, said something careless, or given any reason for her to pull away. Yet he kept coming up empty.

Spite, normally full of commentary and sass, had fallen unusually silent. Then again, Spite tended to grow quieter whenever Neve was around.

Neve leaned closer, trying to pull his attention back to her. “Do you want to catch up this evening?” she asked, eyes sparkling with interest. “I found a book I think will be right up your alley.”

Lucanis had barely registered her words, his mind too full of the ache that was Rook. He blinked at Neve, his expression blank. “A book?” he echoed, his voice distant.

Neve, clearly unimpressed, shook her head. “Yes, Lucanis. I have one for you,” she repeated, with a touch of exasperation.

“Oh,” he said, realizing he’d made her repeat herself. “Sure, I’ll swing by later and get it from you.” His reply sounded mechanical like he was going through the motions. But then, out of nowhere, Rook’s laughter cut through the air, loud and free, a burst of joy that caught everyone’s attention. Even Taash choked on her drink, snorting with amusement.

Lucanis felt his heart sink further. Yeah, he thought miserably. I hate it here. Watching Rook smile at Davrin felt like punishment, and not knowing how to fix things between them was driving him mad. He had no idea how to bridge the growing distance or why he had ended up here in the first place, and that, more than anything, was the most frustrating part.

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Rook’s heart hammered in her chest as she froze in the hallway, seeing Lucanis waiting for her. Every instinct screamed at her to turn around and walk the other way, to avoid whatever painful conversation was about to unfold, but she knew she couldn’t keep running. You can do this, she told herself, her throat tightening. She drew in a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and forced herself to speak.

“Lucanis,” she greeted, her voice carefully cool. “Is there something I can do for you?”

His brow furrowed, confusion and frustration warring on his face. “What is happening, Rook?” he asked, a hint of exasperation leaking through. “Why are you avoiding me?”

She looked away from his gaze, her eyes fixing firmly on the stone floor. If she looked at him—into those deep, dark eyes that always managed to see straight through her—she knew she’d cave. She wasn’t ready for that. For once, she was determined not to fold, to hang onto her anger, even if it pained her. “I’m not avoiding you,” she replied, her tone clipped. “I’ve been busy, you know, saving the world, fighting ancient gods… that kind of thing.”

Lucanis regarded her quietly, the weight of his gaze like a physical thing pressing down on her. “I see, have I said something or done something?”

Rook forced a smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “No, I’m fine,” she said, her voice flat and devoid of the warmth she usually reserved for him. The fine was a lie, but she clung to it desperately. It felt safer than admitting how badly he’d wounded her. And it gave her a semblance of control over her heart, a way to shield herself from the crushing weight of feeling like she wasn’t enough.

Lucanis tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Fine?” he repeated, scepticism heavy in his voice. “Hmm. It doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing.”

He took a step closer, and Rook instinctively backed up, keeping the same distance between them. She wouldn’t let him close, not when her heart was so fragile. “Perhaps you should go pick up that book from Neve,” she shot back, “I’m sure she’ll have your favourite coffee brewed and waiting.”

Lucanis’s eyes widened a fraction, the hurt flashing across his features unmistakable. Before he could respond, she brushed past him, retreating into her room and closing the door behind her. She leaned against it, breathing hard, fighting the urge to cry.

In the hallway, Lucanis stood in stunned silence, the shadows around him deepening as he tried to piece together what had just happened. His head tilted slightly, confusion etched on his face. Was this about Neve? The question churned in his mind, sending him spiralling back through every conversation, every interaction with Neve, searching for any clue. Why would Rook mention her?

It was then that Spite finally spoke up, his voice echoing in the corners of Lucanis’s mind. “Tastes like… envy,” the demon mused, each word slow and almost thoughtful. “Yes. Bitter. Sharp.”

Lucanis’s eyes widened in sudden realization. Envy. Rook was jealous? His heart lurched at the thought, a mix of confusion, guilt, and something else he couldn’t quite name. Jealous of what? That was the bigger question, but he had a place to start, which was more than he had moments before.

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Lucanis listened to Neve, his gaze thoughtful as he leaned back into the couch, sipping his coffee. The cozy yet refined atmosphere of her room couldn’t fully soothe his restless mind. "Jealous? Of me? Odd," Neve mused, sounding genuinely perplexed. "We aren't exactly bosom buddies, but we've always had a good working relationship. She's a capable mage, highly recommended if you listen to House de Riva. And she’s... well, sweet. Maybe a little too sweet at times. The world can be harsh, and people like Rook don't always make it out in one piece."

Lucanis tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Sweet? Yes, she is,” he agreed, but there was more to it. “there’s strength in her, too. The kind that can get us through this, no matter how bad things get.” He paused, searching Neve’s eyes. “You know why Viago sent her out of Antiva, right?”

Neve nodded, her brow knitting together slightly. “I got the gist from him. He seemed… displeased.”

Lucanis’s smile widened a fraction. “Viago is always displeased,” he said with a hint of humour, “but he does have a soft spot for Rook, even if he won’t admit it. She climbed the ranks fast. Full membership with the Crows at a young age. Orphaned and taken in by House de Riva when she was around eight. But what got her exiled was taking initiative where she shouldn’t have.” He swirled his coffee, his eyes reflecting a complicated mix of pride and sadness. “She has heart—a soft one, maybe—but she freed a group of prisoners and slaves one night, prisoners the Antaam would’ve had executed. Varric was among them. You know that part.”

Neve leaned forward, her interest piqued. “Yes, but?”

“But,” Lucanis continued, “her actions derailed a much larger operation. She saved lives, but it cost the Crows.. That’s what led to her downfall.” He stared into his coffee, the steam curling up like ghostly whispers. “She’s got a good heart.”

Neve considered his words, sitting beside him and absorbing the weight of what he’d said. “A good heart that ultimately got her kicked out of her city,” she pointed out, “But that doesn’t explain why she’s jealous of me.”

Lucanis gave her a wry smile, one brow lifting slightly. “I figured the renowned Minrathous detective might have some insight to bestow upon me.”

Neve laughed, the sound warm and clear. “Oh, sure. Because I’m great with people, right?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Tell you what: maybe I’ll have a word with Davrin. They’re close. Leave it with me, and I’ll get back to you.”

Lucanis's smile softened, but his heart felt heavy with uncertainty. "I appreciate it," he said, though the thought of Rook feeling hurt, even if it was out of jealousy, left an ache in his chest that he couldn't quite shake.

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“Jealous?” Davrin echoed, his eyebrows rising with genuine surprise. “Of you? Hmm... nope. She hasn’t said anything to me, but she has been distracted. Yeah, that’s the right word.” He set down his latest whittling project, a small wooden figure of what looked like a griffon, and studied Neve with his usual thoughtful expression. “But she hasn’t said anything to you?”

Neve shook her head. “Nothing, I’m afraid.”

Davrin let out a sigh, leaning back. “Look, Rook is a good person, but even I know some people need space from time to time. I’m not going to pressure her into telling me anything she doesn’t want to share. But...” he trailed off, tapping his chin, “she and Lucanis used to be practically joined at the hip. Wherever he was, she’d be right there. If you ask me, she’s sweet on him, and it’s not just that whole Crow loyalty thing.”

Neve’s eyes widened slightly. “She has a crush?”

Davrin shook his head with a small smile. “No, not a crush. She likes him. I can see it in the way she is around him, and I know her pretty well.”

Neve frowned, her mind racing. “So... what do I have to do with all of this? Seems a little strange that I’d be involved.”

Davrin tilted his head, smirking a little. “Well, who told you she was jealous?”

“Lucanis,” Neve replied, sounding almost exasperated.

“But who told him?” Davrin shot back, a knowing grin on his face.

Neve paused, then rolled her eyes. “Spite told him,” she admitted with a touch of reluctance.

Davrin’s laughter burst out, loud and unapologetic. “Oh, so we’re taking the word of a demon now?” He shook his head, clearly entertained. “This is hilarious.”

Neve threw her hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, Lucanis takes him seriously! And to be fair, that demon has never led us astray.” Her lips twitched with a hint of amusement despite herself.

Davrin exhaled, the humour fading to something more contemplative. “All right, leave it with me. Rook and I are heading out to Lavendel together soon. I’ll have a chat with her, and see if I can make sense of this mess.”

Neve nodded, a small smile of relief crossing her face. “Thanks, Davrin. Just... tread carefully, okay? Whatever’s going on, it matters a lot to her.”

Davrin gave her a mock salute. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” But as he picked up his whittling project again, he couldn’t help but wonder if his friend was ready to admit the truth to herself.

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"What the fuck, Davrin? Who told you that?!"

Davrin blinked in surprise at Rook's outburst. "Who told you I was jealous of Neve?!"

"Hey, I’m just asking for interested parties. They figured I’d know what’s up with my friend," he replied, holding his hands up defensively.

Rook turned away from him, her fists clenched at her sides. She was too angry to speak—not at Davrin, no. Davrin could annoy her, sure, but Lucanis? He could make her seethe. And knowing that this line of questioning was coming from Neve of all people made her want to throw herself straight into the Fade, never to return.

"Rook," Davrin said quietly, his tone unusually gentle, "I promise, I won’t breathe a word if you tell me what’s bothering you. Warden’s honor."

Rook glanced at him, catching the earnestness in his expression. For once, he wasn’t cracking a joke to lighten the mood. She let out a sharp exhale and looked away again, debating whether to open up. Finally, she gave in.

“I swear to the Maker, if you report back to them, I’ll take out a contract on you,” she grumbled before the words burst out of her. “It’s the fucking flirting! Neve and Lucanis flirt all the fucking time, and I’M RIGHT FUCKING THERE! They just flirt like I’m invisible. I—well…” She hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I like him, and he never flirts with me. Never mentions anything about buying me something at the markets, or, ‘Hey, Rook, here’s a flower I picked for you,’ or anything like that. Nothing! I get nothing. It’s infuriating. What is wrong with me? Well, I know what’s wrong with me. Look at me. Look at this!”

She grabbed her thigh angrily, gesturing in frustration.

Davrin didn’t interrupt. He just listened, his expression calm and steady, letting her vent it all out.

“She’s perfect,” Rook continued, her voice shaking with anger. “Perfect hair, perfect outfits, perfect everything. And then there’s me—always saying the wrong thing, always crumpled. And he’s all, ‘Wow, Neve, great shot,’ while I’ve just literally slaughtered ten thousand darkspawn and not once does that man say anything.”

Davrin waited a beat to make sure she was finished before speaking. “I see. Well, thank you for finally telling me. I feel like we’re making progress here.”

Rook shot him a sharp look, her frustration now turning toward him.

“So, you like Lucanis,” Davrin said with a knowing smile. “I thought as much. I mean, it was obvious to me—everyone else seems to be walking around with blinders on.”

Rook groaned, dramatically flopping her head into her hands. “Don’t tell me that, Dav. It’s not making me feel any better. I already feel like the biggest idiot alive. I guess Viago was right.”

Davrin slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in, his tone soft but firm. “That’s my friend you’re talking about, and I don’t take kindly to people putting her down. Question is, where do you go from here?”

Rook let out a long, exhausted sigh. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m so angry at him right now. And unfairly pissed off at Neve. But I can’t forgive him yet. I’m far too in my ‘petty era’ right now.”

“I can tell, Rook,” Davrin began, his voice steady but not unkind. “Thing is, he doesn’t know what he’s done. Not sure how the man is supposed to make amends if he isn’t told.”

Rook stared off into the small village that Davrin and her had spent the last two days protecting from the Blight, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. “How does he not know? The man is a walking romance novel with her! Why doesn’t he do that with me?” She paused, her voice dropping into something quieter. “I know I’m not like her… I get that…”

Davrin cut her off before she could spiral any further. “For the love of the Maker, Rook, you’re gorgeous. Why do you keep comparing yourself to her? Sure, you’re nothing like Neve, but you’re you, and that ain’t bad.”

Rook gave him a deadpan stare, one eyebrow arching. “Really? Now you’re hitting on me?”

“Fuck no,” Davrin shot back with mock indignation. “I know who your boyfriend is... and he terrifies me.”

Rook snorted, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “He’s not my boyfriend. I have no idea what we are. At the moment, he just annoys me.” She let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I’m going to have to talk to him, aren’t I?”

There was a note of defeat in her voice, like she was resigning herself to some inevitable punishment.

“Fuck… why do I have to be the one to do it? I want him to apologize. I want him to beg for forgiveness.” She groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Wow, I really am being petty.”

Davrin grinned, his expression both amused and supportive. “Yes, but it suits you.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you want me to say something to him? Informing him of his gross oversight of sneaking around trying to find out what’s wrong with you and then maybe steer him toward an ‘ah-ha’ moment?”

“You’d do that for me?” she asked quietly, her voice softer now, vulnerable.

“Of course,” Davrin said with a mock-serious nod. “Killing darkspawn, being a baby daddy to Assan, and sorting out budding romances at the Lighthouse? Those are my specialties.”

Rook rolled her eyes and playfully swatted his arm. “Dumbass.”

Davrin grinned, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way. “Maybe so,” he said, leaning back with exaggerated confidence, “but I’m your dumbass. And where would you be without me?”

----------------------------------------------------------

Lucanis had been quiet all day. Davrin knew he was a man of few words, but today’s outing with him and Lace had been decidedly less chatty than normal. Now, they sat around a tavern table, finally letting some warmth soak into their bones. The Lighthouse’s perpetual twilight made it easy to forget the biting cold of Thedas, but the roaring fire beside them was a rare luxury this evening.

Davrin watched Lucanis as he stared into his coffee mug, the steam curling up like ghosts between his hands. Lace was busy chatting with the patrons at a nearby table, her laughter carrying faintly over the hum of conversation.

“So, Lucanis,” Davrin said casually, breaking the silence. “You’ve been a little quiet today. Anything amiss?”

Lucanis looked up, his dark eyes sharp as they met Warden's. “I’m not in the mood.” His tone was flat, cold.

For a moment, silence hung between them, but Davrin wasn’t one to back down so easily. He leaned back in his chair, watching Lucanis carefully. “I see that,” he said finally. “Wondering if I can help you out with that?”

Lucanis sipped his coffee, his gaze distant, and he could tell he was mulling something over. “You know Rook well,” the assassin said after a long pause. “Probably better than I.”

Davrin shifted in his chair, not entirely sure where this was going. He prayed to the Maker it didn’t involve knives. “Ahhh, yes,” he replied cautiously. “Though I’d say you know our fearless leader pretty well too.”

“I’m not so sure of that.” Lucanis’s words were quiet but firm, his eyes flicking back to him for a moment before returning to his coffee cup.

Davrin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m guessing you’re looking for answers,” he said lightly, nodding toward the mug. “Doubtful you’ll find them in there, my friend.”

A faint, almost reluctant smile tugged at Lucanis’s lips. “Perhaps not,” he admitted. “But coffee is good for reflection.” He paused, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him visibly. “I’ve done something. I know I have. But she won’t tell me what it is, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Well, I know what you’ve done.”

Davrin smiled slyly, taking a sip of his beer like he wasn’t about to drop a bombshell. “It’s your lucky day, Crow.”

Lucanis stared at him, his mouth slightly agape. “You know?”

The Warden nodded, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Sure do. And I can’t say it’s an easy fix—for you, at least. But,” he added, setting his mug down with a heavy clink, “if you applied as much effort into correcting your mistake as you do into flirting with a certain detective, you might just win her heart back.”

Davrin punctuated his sentence with a deep, exaggerated gulp of his drink, clearly pleased with himself.

Lucanis just looked at him, his face blank, and said nothing for the longest while. The lively chatter and laughter of the tavern seemed to fill the silence as Davrin waited, unsure if he had heard him.

“Flirting?” Lucanis repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and offense. “With Neve? Flirting, as in me being suggestive with Neve?”

Davrin smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you need to say it a third time, Crow? Whatever way you cut it, it still sounds a bit... shit.”

Lucanis blinked, his mouth opening slightly as if to argue, but Davrin pressed on, clearly enjoying himself.

“I guess Rook just got fed up with hearing about you wanting to buy Neve fresh fish and flowers at the market.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Oh, and I think she said—” Davrin cleared his throat for dramatic effect—“and I quote: ‘And he’s all, “Wow, Neve, great shot,” while I’ve just literally slaughtered ten thousand darkspawn, and not once does that man say anything.’”

He leaned back with a satisfied grin, taking another sip of his beer. “Yeah, I think that about covers the gist of what she vented to me for a solid 45 minutes.”

“Mierda,” Lucanis muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

Davrin waved at the serving girl over with a grin. “Yes, you’re screwed, Lucanis,” he said cheerfully. “But, as I mentioned, you can make this better… I think.” He ordered another beer for himself and a fresh coffee for his brooding friend.

Lucanis’s brow furrowed, his voice low and resigned. “What else did she say? I need to know just how much of a gilipollas I’ve been.”

Davrin laughed, the sound loud enough to turn a few heads nearby. “I’m assuming that’s something bad—and if it is, you deserve it.” He leaned back, his grin widening. “Let’s see… what else did she say? Oh, right!”

Davrin sat forward, lowering his voice to mimic Rook’s, exaggerating her frustration: ‘Nothing! I get nothing. It’s infuriating. What is wrong with me? Neve and Lucanis flirt all the fucking time, and I’M RIGHT FUCKING THERE! They just flirt like I’m invisible.’ He leaned back with a satisfied smirk. “And, of course, more liberal usage of the word ‘fuck.’”

“I don’t know what to say,” Lucanis muttered, his voice low. He slumped back in his chair, looking more defeated than Davrin had ever seen him. “I’m not sure what I’m meant to say. I don’t mean anything by it—the flirting. I never thought…”

“No, you didn’t,” Davrin cut in sharply, holding up a hand to stop him. “Why would you? You ask her for advice on gifts for Neve, buy her nothing, and expect everything to be fine?” He shook his head, leaning forward. “Shit, Lucanis, you could pick Rook a flower off a random bush in Arlathan, and she’d be insufferably happy for days. I do it all the time for her, and I don’t even want to fuck her.”

Lucanis’s brow furrowed deeper, but he didn’t interrupt.

Davrin leaned back with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bare minimum, my friend. Bare. Minimum. And you’ve somehow managed to fall below that. Impressive, really.”

He punctuated his words with a long swig of his beer, shaking his head as he set the mug down.

“So, this is how you’re going to fix this,” Davrin began, pointing a finger at Lucanis for emphasis. “After we’re done at this outpost, we’re heading home, and you are going to beg for some kind of forgiveness. Kneel if you have to. Hell, throw in a prayer to the Maker while you’re at it and hope that gorgeous woman decides to give you another chance.”

Lucanis stared at him, his mouth opening slightly, but Davrin didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And keep your damn mouth shut around Neve,” Davrin continued, leaning forward for extra emphasis. “I get it—Neve is damn fine to look at. But those thoughts? Inside thoughts, not outside thoughts, Lucanis. And for the love of everything holy, make sure your demon is on board with this too.”

Lucanis fiddle with the handle on his cup, guilt practically radiating off him, but Davrin wasn’t done.

“She likes you, I know she does. But she’s hurt, and a woman scorned is a terrifying force of nature.”

Davrin sat back, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “So what’s the plan, Crow?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Lucanis muttered, running a hand down his face. “I’ll think of something. I’ll fix this.”

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Davrin.

“It better be good,” Davrin said pointedly, leaning back in his chair. “Because she is pissed, and I don’t blame her. And for the love of the Maker, can you tell her that you like her? It’s clear as day to me, but she has no idea. She thinks you don’t even see her.”

Lucanis opened his mouth to retort, but Davrin barreled on.

“This whole ‘I’m possessed by a demon and I can’t love anyone’ trope is old, Lucanis. If you can charm Neve halfway around Minrathous, you can bloody well lavish some of that charm on Rook.”

“I’ll fix it,” Lucanis said firmly, though the conviction in his voice wavered just slightly. “And… thank you, for letting me know.”

Davrin gave him a hearty pat on the back, his grin equal parts teasing and supportive. “I don’t envy you, Lucanis. I thought fighting the ancient Gods was going to be tough, but this? Seems like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Lucanis let out a quiet breath, half a smile tugging at his lips. He knew Davrin was right.

----------------------------------------------------------

He found her up on the balcony, as he expected. Rook often went there to read when she needed space from everyone else. Davrin slid onto the bench beside her, and they sat in comfortable silence, the quiet of the moment broken only by the rustle of pages and the distant sounds of the Lighthouse.

Assan nuzzled his head against Rook’s arm, demanding pats, which she happily obliged, scratching behind the young griffon’s ears.

“It’s good to have you back,” she said finally, her voice soft but genuine. “I missed you. Did it go well?”

Davrin smiled, leaning back. “Of course it did. Harding is a terrible cook, though... but apart from that, we got the job done.”

Rook huffed a laugh, but before she could reply, Davrin added, almost too casually, “Oh, and I spoke to the Crow.”

Rook froze for a moment, her smile faltering. “Oh, Maker, how did that go?” She waved a hand before he could answer. “You know what? Don’t tell me. I’ve been perfectly happy here without him.”

Davrin turned his head, giving her a pointed side-eye. “Sure, sure... you’ve been perfectly happy.”

Rook glared at him over the top of her book, but he wasn’t done.

“He knows what he’s done wrong now,” Davrin continued with a shrug, “and is, and I quote, ‘formulating a plan,’ whatever the fuck that means.”

“A plan?” Rook repeated, her gaze drifting off into the endless expanse of the Fade sky. She hesitated, her fingers absently scratching Assan’s feathers as she gathered her thoughts. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want complete honesty. Even if it’s not what I want to hear.”

Davrin tilted his head, his smile softening. “Always.”

Rook turned to him, her voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “Does the man even remotely like me?”

Davrin’s grin widened as he leaned back against the railing, taking a moment before answering. “Rook,” he said slowly, “I watched the blood drain out of the his face when I laid it all out on the table for him. I have never seen such a sorry sight.” He paused, his tone turning more sincere. “If that’s any indication of what he’s feeling, I think he’s sweet on you.”

Rook’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression unreadable.

“He’s clueless,” Davrin added with a shrug. “I doubt he’s ever had a relationship before. Doesn’t excuse what he did, but I know he’ll fix it—or at least try to.”

Rook leaned her head on his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why is life so hard? Everything feels so complicated, and I’m so tired. I know you said I shouldn’t compare myself to anyone, but… I don’t always feel strong, you know?” She paused, her fingers idly stroking Assan’s feathers. “Have I blown this all out of proportion? I think… I think I need to speak to Neve. She’s lovely—I know she is.”

Davrin stayed quiet for a long moment, his usual humor replaced by a thoughtful stillness.

“I think, sometimes, Rook,” he said softly, “you don’t see yourself the way the rest of us see you. At the heart of it all, you’re a good person. And yes, you’re beautiful too.”

Rook shifted slightly, about to protest, but Davrin pressed on.

“People come in all shapes and sizes. That doesn’t make anyone worth less than the next person. Maybe instead of comparing yourself to what you’re not, you should take a hard look at all the amazing things you are. All the shit you’ve accomplished under impossible odds. Hell, you’ve even put Solas in his place a few times—and that guy’s a dick.”

“That’s a weird way to ask me out on a date, Dav,” Rook said with a small smile, her eyes glinting with playful mischief.

Davrin laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the balcony. “You wish, de Riva. You and me would never work out.” He leaned back, grinning. “Besides, I come with a kid in tow—parenthood is tough.”

Rook chuckled, scratching Assan under the chin as the griffon chirped contentedly.

“Nah,” Davrin continued, “I think you’re more suited to the stabbity-stab life of Crow intrigue. I’m just a simple man, a Grey Warden with modest needs. You’d outlive me, no doubt, and I can’t have you being all mopey about the charming and heroic warrior you once knew.”

----------------------------------------------------------

She heard the faint rustle of a note slipping under her door just as she was drifting off to sleep. For a moment, she considered leaving it there until morning, her exhaustion tugging at her. But curiosity got the better of her.

Pulling the blanket tightly around her shoulders, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, shivering as her feet touched the cold floor. With a quiet sigh, she padded across the room, picked up the envelope, and sank into the worn couch by the window.

The candlelight flickered softly, casting long shadows as she slid her finger under the seal. The handwriting inside was instantly familiar, and her breath caught as she unfolded the letter.

-----

Rook,

I have thought about what to write in this letter to you for days as we made our way back home. I am usually good at making plans and coming up with solutions to any problem. Unfortunately, in this case, I am the problem, and I don’t know how to fix the hurt I’ve caused you.

That being said, I will try to make this right. If you decide not to accept my apology, I will understand. But if you can find it in your heart to let me make this up to you, I would be grateful.

Meet me in Treviso tomorrow evening at my favourite café—you know the one. We went there not long after I joined you at the Lighthouse.

I will wait for you.

—Lucanis

-----

Rook sank back into her couch, the letter still clutched against her chest. Stupid Antivan man, she thought, her lips twitching into a faint smile despite herself.

She couldn’t deny it—no matter how frustrated she was, no matter how much she wanted to stay angry—she was willing to hear him out.

----------------------------------------------------------

There was a knock at the door.

“Can I come in, Rook?” Neve’s voice was soft but firm.

From inside, she heard a flurry of shuffling, a thud, and several muffled expletives. Finally, the door creaked open.

“Yes, come in,” Rook said, rubbing her toe with a wince. “I’m just getting ready to…”

Neve smiled knowingly. “Meet Lucanis in Treviso. I know.”

Rook sighed, slumping back slightly. “Of course you know. He probably told you.”

She moved to the couch, sitting down to pull on her boots, her movements stiff with nervous energy. Neve stepped inside, her gaze drifting to the window where the shimmering fish swam lazily outside.

“You really do have the best room at the Lighthouse,” Neve remarked, her voice distant. “No wisps, just the fish.” She turned back to Rook, her expression softening. “No, he didn’t tell me. Davrin did.”

Rook paused, her hands hovering over her laces.

“I wanted to stop by and tell you to enjoy yourself,” Neve continued. “If I know Lucanis, he’ll have a wonderful evening planned for you.” She hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, her tone quieter but no less sincere. “And I also wanted to tell you... I envy you.”

Rook’s head snapped up in surprise. “Envy me?”

Neve gave a small, bittersweet smile. “He’s a good man, apart from the whole abomination thing he’s got going on.” Her smile widened slightly, a hint of humor in her voice. “I’ll admit, I entertained the idea of him and me once. But it was clear his heart had already chosen another.”

Rook opened her mouth to respond, but Neve cut her off gently.

“Like all men, he’s a bit of an idiot, and he’s made mistakes,” Neve said, her gaze steady. “But if you let him, he’ll spend the rest of his life making it up to you.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Rook admitted, her voice quieter now. “I do feel stupid for being unkind to you. I’m sorry about that.”

Neve waved the apology away with a small smile. “No need for deep and meaningfuls, Rook. We’re both busy women with jobs to do. But tonight?” She stepped closer, her expression softening. “You have a date with a Crow.”

Rook shifted awkwardly, Neve’s eyes scanning her as if assessing her readiness. “I know,” Rook said, glancing down at herself. “I’m in my leathers. I probably should have dressed—”

Neve cut her off with a laugh. “I saw Lucanis leave for the Eluvian. He was dressed in his too. Are you Crows ever not on the clock?”

Rook chuckled despite herself. “You’ve met my boss, right? Viago?”

Neve grinned. “Point taken.” She reached for the door, her hand hovering for a moment before turning back. “Anyway, enjoy your evening. I hope it’s everything you need and want.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Davrin had insisted on accompanying her through the Eluvian to Treviso, despite her protests.

“You didn’t need to escort me, Dav,” Rook said as they stepped out into the bustling city. She smoothed down her cloak, her tone exasperated but affectionate. “I’m more than capable of navigating a city I’ve lived in most of my life.”

“Yeah, I know,” Davrin replied with a casual shrug. “But I did need to come here. Lucanis has me set up with his blacksmith. And, well…” He paused, glancing sideways at her. “I wanted to make sure you got here okay. If things go south, you know I’m around.”

Rook nudged him with her elbow, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve never had a brother, but you are bordering on the whole ‘protective big brother’ vibes right now. And I have to say, it suits you.”

Davrin smiled shyly, looking away as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know you’re pissed at Dellamorte,” he said softly. “I get it. But let him speak. Give him a chance, Rook.”

She sighed, her gaze dropping for a moment. “I’m not that angry anymore. I spoke to Neve before heading here—she came to my room.”

Davrin raised an eyebrow, his expression suddenly amused. “Please tell me she left said room. I know what you Crows are like,” he added with a chuckle.

Rook rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “She’s very much alive, thank you. And she said something… odd. Something I wasn’t expecting.”

“Oh?” Davrin leaned in, curious.

“She said she was envious of me,” Rook admitted, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Davrin stopped in his tracks, raising both eyebrows now. “Well, well,” he said with exaggerated flair. “It seems we’ve come full circle. Now she’s jealous of you! I believe I’m experiencing whiplash.”

As they walked along the bustling streets of her hometown, Rook couldn’t ignore the faint queasiness in her stomach. She wasn’t angry anymore—not really. More… disgruntled. But there was no venom behind the feeling now. Lucanis had made a mistake, and, if she was being honest with herself, she’d probably blown it out of proportion—a tendency she sometimes leaned into more than she should.

At least she’d managed to entertain everyone at the Lighthouse with the intrigue and drama.

“Ahhh, I love it here,” Davrin mused, breaking her train of thought. His eyes roamed the lively street, the laughter and chatter of the city swirling around them. “Great atmosphere, excellent food, and some rather beautiful distractions for the taking.”

Rook rolled her eyes, her nerves briefly forgotten as she fought back a smirk.

“And it seems,” Davrin added with a dramatic flourish as they neared the café, “I have delivered you to your destination, my Queen.” He swept into an exaggerated bow, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Maker, you’re an idiot,” Rook said, shaking her head with a smile. “But I love you despite it.”

Davrin grinned and placed both hands firmly on her shoulders, leaning in just slightly. “You’ve got this, Rook. Go forth and get your man and—let him speak. He can actually be pretty good at it, you know, when he’s not saying all the wrong things.”

Rook took a deep breath, her nerves settling just enough to nod. “Wish me luck?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Davrin shook his head, his grin softening into something more earnest. “Nah, you don’t need it. You’ve got this, girl. No luck required.”

He stepped ahead and held the door open for her. She squared her shoulders and walked through, the warm hum of the café greeting her as she crossed the threshold.

Davrin lingered outside for a moment, watching her disappear inside. He knew, deep down, it would all be okay. But still, a small pang of worry tugged at him—for his friend, for her heart, and for the man she was about to face.

----------------------------------------------------------

The café was empty.

Anxiety, her old and unwelcome friend, crept up her spine as she glanced around the dimly lit space. Had she gotten the wrong day? The wrong time? Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she dug into her bag, pulling out the note Lucanis had sent. She unfolded it with shaky fingers, scanning the words again, double-checking that she hadn’t misread anything.

No. She was in the right place.

But as her eyes flicked to the counter, the absence of anyone behind it made her chest tighten further. The café felt eerily quiet, the usual hum of conversation replaced by the soft ticking of a clock.

Now she felt like the idiot. Where was he? And why was she standing awkwardly in an empty coffee shop at eight o’clock at night?

As a Crow, this screamed assassination attempt, and the thought made her pulse quicken. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but her hand instinctively drifted to the hilt of the blade hidden beneath her cloak.

Not that she’d ever killed anyone with a dirk before—magic was her usual go-to—but the weight of the blade under her fingers offered some small comfort. Her unease grew as she wandered further into the café, cautiously checking dark corners and peeking around the pillars.

She moved closer to the counter, her nerves prickling with every step, when suddenly, Lucanis popped up from behind it.

“Maker’s breath!” Rook yelped, jumping back, her heart hammering as she glared at him.

Lucanis stood there, his dark eyes warm as they met hers, and a small, gorgeous smile spread across his lips—the one that always managed to disarm her.

“Rook,” he said softly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “You came.”

“Why were you hiding behind the counter?!” Rook exclaimed, her voice sharp with surprise.

Lucanis straightened, brushing imaginary dust from his leathers. “I was looking for sugar,” he said matter-of-factly. “I know you like your coffee sweet and hot. Good news: I found it.”

He turned his attention to the coffee pot, busying himself with making their drinks as if nothing about this was out of the ordinary.

Rook crossed her arms, glancing around the empty café. “And you now own this place?” she asked, her tone tinged with amusement.

Lucanis smirked, glancing at her over his shoulder. “I asked the owner for a favor and promised to pay him back with a free contract.”

Rook blinked in surprise before letting out a laugh. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not,” she said, shaking her head. “You never work for free.”

“Sometimes I do,” Lucanis said with a small smile, handing her the steaming cup. “Let’s sit… the table over there.”

He gestured toward a cozy corner, and Rook’s gaze followed. The table had been set perfectly, a small display of her favorite desserts arranged neatly on a plate, waiting for her.

Her lips twitched in a faint smile as she followed him. They settled into their chairs, and for a moment, a comfortable silence fell between them as they both enjoyed the first few sips of their drinks.

Lucanis leaned back, cradling his cup in his hands. “Good coffee...And yours?”

Rook took another sip, savoring the warmth and sweetness. It was perfect—just the way she liked it. “You know it’s good,” she replied, glancing at him over the rim of her cup. “If there’s one thing you never fail at, it’s making it exactly the way I like it.”

A satisfied smile spread across his face, lighting his dark eyes.

Setting her cup down, Rook slipped off her gloves and laid them neatly on the table, the nervous energy in her hands too much to contain. Lucanis noticed, of course—he always did. He knew her tells. Whenever she was anxious, she’d fidget, her fingers tracing the stitching of her coat over and over again or right now, fiddling with her gloves,

“Rook…” he began, his voice soft, testing the waters, “I’m sorry—” , but Rook cut him off.

“I know I’m an idiot,” she blurted, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I should have just told you, and instead it became this whole thing involving everyone, and I didn’t mean for it to get so... big. It was stupid of me.”

Lucanis watched her for a long moment, his gaze steady and unreadable. Then, without a word, he placed his hand gently over hers.

“Rook,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what? I’m not doing anything,” she replied, immediately defensive. She picked up her cup again, taking a long sip—anything to avoid his gaze.

“Blaming yourself. Apologising for things you don’t need to apologise for,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. “I am the one to blame for your worries. I was the one who hurt you.”

“Yes, but you didn’t know,” Rook said quickly, her words tumbling out before she could think better of them. “And if I hadn’t been so damn stubborn—or dare I say petulant—I could have just told you. But I felt… well, I did feel stupid.”

Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, her voice softening as she admitted, “You were an arse though.”

A faint smile flickered across his face, but he stayed quiet, waiting.

“Why did you do it?” she asked, her eyes meeting his briefly before darting away. “It’s okay if you want to—”

She stopped herself mid-sentence, before her mouth could betray her further, she grabbed one of the neatly arranged cakes from the plate and shoved it into her mouth.

It worked—a bit too well. She sat frozen for a moment, cheeks puffed with cake, as the realisation of what she’d just done hit her. Across the table, Lucanis raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching as he tried not to laugh.

It took forever to get through the sugary treat—she’d completely forgotten how chewy they were. Looking effortlessly graceful with a mouthful of cake was not the impression she’d been going for.

Lucanis, ever observant, seized the opportunity to speak before she could finish. It might be the only way to get a word in.

“Yes,” he began, his tone quiet but deliberate. “I fully accept your blunt observation of myself.”

Rook raised an eyebrow at him, still chewing, but didn’t interrupt.

“Why I did it?” Lucanis continued, his gaze dropping briefly to the table. “It’s… was easy to flirt with Neve. A distraction from what’s in my mind, who shares my body, and everything else—fighting Gods, dealing with the Blight…” He paused, his voice softening. “But, also, it means nothing. And when it means nothing, there’s no possibility of consequences.”

“Consequences?” she managed, still chewing, her words slightly muffled.

“Yes,” Lucanis replied, his voice steady but quieter now. “If I don’t say those things to you, it’s not because I don’t notice you, enjoy your company, or desire someone else. It’s quite the opposite.”

Rook froze mid-chew, her eyes widening slightly as she watched him, his gaze fixed firmly on her.

“But how would you know this?” he continued, his tone filled with a rare vulnerability. “I’ve never told you. And I have never reciprocated any of the affection you have so generously given me.”

“But you said consequences, and I’m still not following,” Rook said, finally finishing her cake.

Lucanis sighed, frustration flickering across his face. Maker, he wished he were better with words—like his cousin Illario. “Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck I’m trying to say right now.” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away before meeting her eyes again.

“I’m not good at this, Rook,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “But I struggle with you because… because you mean something to me. You’re not just a distraction. You’re something that has—” He hesitated, the next word slipping out before he could stop it. “...weight.”

He saw her gaze drop instantly to her coffee, her expression unreadable.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Lucanis’s stomach dropped. Why the fuck did you say that? Davrin had specifically told him not to mention the word weight.

“Yes, I’m aware I have ‘weight,’” she replied, her tone dry as she raised an eyebrow at him.

Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, gesturing to the plate. “Thank you for highlighting that right after watching me devour at least three of these cakes.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a mock-serious expression. “And for the record, they were delicious, and I have zero regrets eating them.”

“What I meant is… you’re special to me,” Lucanis said, his voice quieter now, his dark eyes meeting hers. “To Spite, as well. And that’s dangerous to admit. It’s information that could be used against me—or you. And Maker knows Viago will not be pleased.”

He paused, frustration clear on his face. “I never flirted with you because… because I care for you. More than a friend.” His voice softened, the words weighted with sincerity. “Hopefully, I get to be more. But I’m the most foolish of men when it comes to matters of the heart. I’m not good at… any of this.”

Rook’s gaze shifted, taking in the café around her. The warm, romantic glow of the lights, the beautifully laid-out table, the intimacy of the setting—it all seemed so deliberate, so unlike the Lucanis she thought she knew.

Her eyes landed back on him, and she arched an eyebrow. “You’re not good at being romantic? Or apologies? Because, by the way, you still haven’t said sorry.”

“Despite my Antivan heritage, we aren’t all blessed with my cousin’s gift for romance,” Lucanis said with a wry smile. “But I’ll try—for you.”

He stood, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape against the floor, and stepped around the table.

“And this,” he continued, his voice dropping to something softer, almost reverent, “is where I kneel at your feet and beg for your forgiveness.”

Before Rook could react, he sank to one knee before her, taking her hand gently in his. His eyes lifted to meet hers, his expression utterly sincere.

“I am sorry,” he began, his voice steady but weighted with emotion. “For any hurt I caused you. I am sorry for my misplaced charm. I am sorry for letting you think you are anything less than breathtaking to me.”

Her breath caught, the words hitting her like a wave.

“I am sorry you ever felt you were not enough,” he went on, his thumb brushing softly against her knuckles, “when you are—more than enough in every way a woman can be. I am sorry. Truly sorry.”

He paused, his voice softening even further as he added, “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I swear to you—you will never doubt my affection for you for as long as I breathe.”

Rook sat in silence, her gaze fixed on the man kneeling before her. She turned her hand slightly in his, lacing her fingers through his as she searched for the right words.

“How am I supposed to stay angry at you now?” she said finally, her voice soft but tinged with exasperation. “The cakes, the candlelight, and that—” she gestured toward him with her free hand—“what you just said… Maker’s breath, you’re impossible.”

Lucanis’s lips curved into a hesitant smile, hope flickering in his eyes.

She sighed, shaking her head slightly. “And… I forgive you,” she added, her voice steady now, but her cheeks flushed.

“But I swear,” Rook continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, “if you ever make me feel that way again, I’ll take a contract out on you. Better than that—” she leaned forward, her tone dropping for emphasis—“I’ll kill you myself.”

Lucanis tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he rose to his feet.

“I’d like to see you try,” he replied smoothly, settling back into his chair across from her, “Promise me there will be lots of struggling,” Lucanis added, his voice dropping into a playful drawl. “Rolling around, grabbing for each other’s daggers…” He leaned forward slightly, a wicked glint in his eyes. “And sweaty. It’ll be sweaty, right?”

Urrgghhhh. She hated it when he turned it back on her like that.

Rook crossed her arms, trying to maintain her composure, but she could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks. She wasn’t nearly as good as he was at making death threats sound… sultry.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, grabbing her coffee and taking a long sip to avoid saying anything else that might give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d flustered her.

“Are you flirting with me, Dellamorte?” Rook asked, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “I thought you didn’t do that.”

Lucanis leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “First time for everything, de Riva,” he replied smoothly. “You could say I’m making up for lost time.”

“I’m not sure if I should say yes or no,” Rook admitted, a nervous smile playing at her lips.

Lucanis leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady, his voice soft but teasing. “Say yes. Take a risk. See what happens.”

He could see the conflict in her eyes, the struggle between protecting her heart and giving in to her curiosity.

“Yes,” she said finally, her voice quiet but steady.

Lucanis half-smiled, standing as he offered his hand. She took it, and together they walked to the balcony overlooking the canal. The soft light reflected off the water below, casting shimmering patterns onto the stone railing.

He leaned against the cool stone, his hand still firmly holding hers.

“So… I said yes, and now we’re looking at…” Rook began, her voice tinged with nervous humor.

“For the love of the Maker, Rook,” Lucanis interrupted, turning to face her fully. “Shut up and let me kiss you. Just stop… talking.”

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, his mouth brushing against hers in a soft, deliberate kiss. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, and Rook melted into him, her heart racing.

He was a good kisser.

Cliché as it was, she slowed time around them with a spell, savoring the moment as the rest of the world blurred into nothing.

Lucanis smiled against her lips, not breaking the kiss, his voice low and warm. “I know what you’re doing, Rook,” he murmured, his lips still grazing hers.

And she didn’t care.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

“Only for Coffee”

Ex-girlfriend Ellie Williams x Fem! reader mini-fic

Content: Angst and no comfort, based off of Chappell Roan song "Coffee", established plot, short fic, break-up, mentions of break-up sex, second-person perspective, this is rlly just a blurb with decorations and pictures

You were reluctant to, but you had to “sort out the final details” of the break-up.

Ellie didn't call you. She sent a short text asking to meet her for coffee a block away from your apartment, the very apartment she used to live in with you. You didn't blame her for the short text; if she called you, it'd lead to actually talking. And if you talked, it'd lead to you blurting out that you missed her. The two of you had to keep things short, you couldn't afford another relationship relapse. So here you were, waiting in your sweatpants and a hoodie. You didn't bother to really get ready, didn't care how she perceived you anymore. It hurt, but you had to block out any affections for her.

This wasn't even the first time the two of you had agreed to meet up. The first time was to share some wine, but that only led to hungry kisses in the bathroom, which then only led to ending up back at your place, having sex in the same bed you had shared countless memories in. The bed you recalled her laying on top of you in, listening to your steady heartbeat as you fell asleep with the comfort of her embrace as if she was your own personal weighted blanket.

People come and go, but Ellie was once someone you couldn't imagine losing. That's why the second time you met up, at the park at night, you poured your heart out to her. Told her how much you still loved her, how the break-up was a big mistake. Even with all of the issues you two had, you wanted to make it work.

It lasted for two weeks before you realized why you split up in the first place.

Sometimes, it's inevitable. Heartbreak, loss, grief. It's something that obviously nobody wished for, but you could learn from it. But why was it so hard to accept that you and Ellie were memories?

It was almost comical how the two of you just kept meeting up, trying to sort out the details only to end up in each other's embraces once more. The cheap Italian restaurant you'd met her family at, the jazz-bar on Maryann Street, all of the places you once remembered spending hours at together. The way life was so easy back then, and it was effortless that you were able to love her. Now, it feels like a knife plunging into your heart every time your lips meet, but only because you know it's a temporary Band-Aid for you.

Ellie didn't show up for coffee this time. She probably knew how it'd go. Hell, you knew how it'd go. You got a brief raincheck text, and you didn't cry about it this time. You decided to take the next leap and block her number, and it felt kind of numbing for it to finally be over. However, memories would remain pristine and sweet. You wished her the best, overall.

The memories used to hit you, from the first gentle kiss to the argument that caused it all. There were times you'd be cooking dinner when she would come home and you swear even now you can still feel the fading warmth where her hands grabbed at your waist, a touch that used to be less greedy than it turned into. Like you had all the time in the world and she could afford to be slow with you.

With a weary sigh, you stood up and walked out of the coffee shop back to your apartment. The shut of the door felt like the soft thud of closing a book that didn't have a proper sequel.

[froggibus]

Boned - Leon S Kennedy

Pairing: Leon S Kennedy x gn! reader

Genre: fluff, comfort

Word Count: 700

Summary: after a horror movie marathon with your boyfriend, you find yourself a little jumpy

CW: ambiguous but i imagined re4/re6 leon while writing this, established relationship, pet names, horror movies, scaredy cat reader, guns (Leon has a pistol), paranoia/fear, Leon makes dumb jokes, mostly fluffy i swear

our first little break from kinktober writing + first little dive into fall fest! i really enjoyed writing this and think if i keep it up maybe im gonna do it again next year! i was giggling to myself making these jokes so i hope yall find them funny ^^

masterlist | kinktober/fall fest masterlist

You flinch as a scream rattles out through the speaker, echoing in your ears. Leon’s grip around your shoulders tightens, his jaw set firmly.

He sighs. “Why do you insist on watching these when they scare you every damn time?”

You nuzzle your head into the chest, the scent of his cologne soothing your nerves. “They excite me.” You glance up at him through your lashes, “why’re you complaining, huh? You scared?”

He rolls his eyes at you, chuckling at your antics. Your attention goes back to the tv, focusing on the third consecutive horror movie of the night. Leon’s never enjoyed this style of movie—too close to what he’s done for work and seen from Umbrella—but he always sucks it up for you.

The thought makes you cuddle closer into the warmth of his body.

—

You’re half changed into a pair of pyjamas pants and one of Leon’s old shirts when you hear the scraping at the window. You stagger backwards, the t-shirt catching on your head and blocking your vision. You strain against the cotton, tugging it the rest of the way over your head and squinting towards the source of the noise.

You let yourself relax when you see there’s nothing outside, the room so quiet it’s as if you imagined the noise. Settling in on the side of the bed, you tuck yourself in and wait for Leon to finish brushing his teeth.

You glance away for one second and suddenly there’s another bang outside. You flinch, leaping to your feet and making a mad dash towards the bathroom. You shove the door open, staggering towards Leon with wide eyes.

“What is it?” He frowns, “what’s going on?”

You wrap your hand around his bicep, gesturing to the closed bedroom window. “I think,” you say quietly, “there’s something outside.”

Your boyfriend is dropping his toothbrush on the counter and shoving his way through the door without another word. You shuffle behind him slowly, following him to the vault in the closet where he keeps his pistol and then towards the front door.

You watch his fingers flex as he loads the gun, the motion smooth and effortless. He keeps the gun tucked against himself, his other hand reaching to make sure you’re a safe distance behind him.

He opens the front door and cold fall air blows over the two of you. Pumpkins and decaying leaves line the streets, the pavement wet and dark beneath the street lights.

Leon shuffles along the side of the house, cautiously turning corners until he has a clear sightline towards your window. You hold your breath, expecting some horrible BOW sent to kill you, or even Ada fucking Wong to come out of the shadows.

What you don’t expect is a dorky Halloween skeleton hanging from your neighbours tree, blowing in the wind and slamming into your window.

Leon cackles before you can even react. He spins around to face you, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Is this guy bothering you, babe?”

He puffs out his chest, glancing over his shoulder and fixing the decoration with a scathing gaze. You sigh at his antics but relief washes over you all the same.

You’re back in the house a minute later, warm in bed and waiting for Leon to finish locking his gun away. “I could’ve sworn there was something out there,” you call out to him. 

“It’s all those horror movies we watched.” He tugs his shirt off as he comes back into the room, peeling away a corner of blanket to join you in bed. “Rotting that pretty head of yours.”

“Sorry I made you go all the way outside.”

He tugs you into him, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t be. You know I’ll always protect you.”

You let yourself relax against him. The comfort of having him so close has sleep heavy on your eyes, silence overtaking the room as your breathing starts to even out.

You’re almost asleep in his arms when he chuckles lightly. “Besides,” he says and you can hear the smirk in his voice, “I had a bone to pick with that guy.”

masterlist | kinktober/fall fest masterlist

[writingforstraykids]

I love you - I doubt it

Pairing: Chan x gn!reader

Word Count: 1571

Summary: Chan gets a message that would've made him the happiest man on earth only a while ago. Now, he doesn't know what to believe anymore.

Warnings/Tags: angst, chan centered

A/N: This is for you, pretty @zehina, my fellow angst lover🤭 Hope you like it🖤🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Chan sat on his bed, staring at the glowing screen of his phone. His room was dimly lit, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound filling the silence. He had just finished scrolling through the usual notifications, his mind dulled by the routine of checking emails, missed calls, and scattered messages. But then, amidst the noise of daily communication, one message stood out, its simplicity pulling him out of the monotony of his scrolling.

I love you.

It was from you. He blinked, momentarily frozen. The words, clear and concise, hung there in the quiet air, reverberating in his mind. There was a time when those words would have lit up his world. He could still remember the first time you’d said them—how his heart had leaped, how his breath had caught in his throat. The flood of warmth, the feeling of being seen, of being valued. But now, as he stared at those three words on the screen, something had shifted.

He didn’t feel the familiar rush of emotion. Instead, his first thought was cold, dispassionate, and bitterly practical.

I doubt it.

He immediately regretted thinking it, but it was the truth. He couldn’t escape the gnawing doubt that had been creeping into his mind for months now. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to believe you still loved him. It wasn’t that he wanted to give up on the idea of you and him. It was just that, over time, something had changed. And he wasn’t sure if either of you had noticed it, or maybe you were just better at pretending it hadn’t.

He sat back against the headboard, his fingers grazing the side of the phone absentmindedly. The message stayed on the screen, taunting him with its simplicity. I love you. Those words should be enough, shouldn’t they? They should fix whatever invisible distance had begun to stretch between you. They should have the power to pull him back into that feeling, that intoxicating sense of connection. But they didn’t.

Instead, they felt like a promise he wasn’t sure you could keep anymore. Or maybe it was a promise neither of you had the energy to uphold.

It wasn’t like this before. There was a time when you two were inseparable, emotionally intertwined in a way that had felt so natural, so effortless. You had shared everything, from the smallest, most insignificant details of your day to the deep, raw vulnerabilities that you hid from everyone else. He had loved you for that – how you trusted him, how you opened yourself to him completely. And he had given you the same in return, never hesitating to share his fears, his dreams, his uncertainties.

But life has a way of complicating things. Chan found himself thinking back over the last year, the slow, almost imperceptible drift that had started to happen. It wasn’t a single moment, not a dramatic argument or a hurtful betrayal. It was more like the erosion of a coastline, gradual and unnoticed until one day you look up, and the shore is so far from where it once was. That’s how it felt between you two now. The connection that had once felt so solid, so unshakeable, now felt fragile, like it could break with a single careless touch.

It was little things at first. The missed calls, the forgotten details, the way you had started to prioritize other aspects of your life over time spent together. He had noticed it but hadn’t wanted to make a big deal out of it. Everyone grows and changes, right? People have different needs at different times in their lives. He had convinced himself that it was just a phase, that soon things would go back to the way they were.

But they hadn’t.

The silences between you had grown longer. The once easy, flowing conversations had started to falter, punctuated by awkward pauses where neither of you seemed to know what to say. You both tried to fill the gaps with reassurances, gestures of affection, but they felt forced, like you were trying to recapture something that had already slipped away.

And now, here was this message. I love you. The words felt like they came from a different time, a different version of you. The version of you that still shared everything with him, that still looked at him with that unguarded expression of trust. But that version had faded, hadn’t it? Replaced by someone more distant, more distracted. And maybe, just maybe, he had changed too. Maybe he wasn’t as attentive as he used to be, wasn’t as present.

Chan sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. He wished he could just respond the way he once would have—I love you too. It had been automatic, instinctive before. But now, it felt like a lie. Not because he didn’t care about you, not because he didn’t want to love you. But because there was something hollow about those words now, something that didn’t ring true.

He wondered if you felt it too. Did you send that message out of habit? Was it a routine? Or did you still mean it, deeply, truly, the way you had when you first said it? He couldn’t be sure. And that’s what scared him. The doubt, the uncertainty. How had it come to this? How did something that once felt so right now feel so wrong?

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in love anymore. He did. But he wasn’t sure if what you two had was still love, at least not in the way it had once been. Maybe it had transformed into something else—something more complicated, less romantic. Something more like mutual obligation, or familiarity, or a kind of quiet companionship. But love? That passionate, all-consuming feeling that had once defined your relationship? He wasn’t sure if that was still there.

He put the phone down on the bed beside him, leaving the message unanswered for now. He needed time to think, to sort through his feelings. He wasn’t ready to respond until he could figure out what he truly felt and what he wanted. Maybe you two were just going through a rough patch. Maybe this was something you could work through if you both put in the effort. But then again, maybe this was the beginning of the end.

The thought made his chest tighten with a strange mix of fear and resignation. The idea of losing you was painful, but there was also a part of him that wondered if letting go would be a relief. The constant questioning, the persistent doubt, the weight of a love that no longer felt easy—it was exhausting. Could you two really go on like this? Or was it time to face the truth that something fundamental had changed between you, something that might never be the same again?

Chan leaned his head back against the headboard, closing his eyes. He replayed your relationship in his mind, the early days when everything was new and exciting, the middle years when you had settled into a comfortable rhythm, and now, this period of uncertainty. He realized that love wasn’t just a feeling. It was work. It was commitment. It was choosing each other, every day, even when things got hard. Lately, he wasn’t sure if either of you were still choosing each other the way you once did.

He didn’t want to admit it, but part of him was angry. Angry that you had let things slip, that you hadn’t fought harder to keep the connection alive. But then again, he knew it wasn’t fair to blame you entirely. He was just as responsible for the distance that had grown between you. Maybe he hadn’t been paying attention. Maybe he had let himself get too caught up in his own world, in his own doubts.

Still, the message lingered. I love you. It was such a simple phrase, but it carried so much weight. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to trust that it was still true. But the doubt remained, like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

“I doubt it,” he whispered to himself again, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated feeling this way. He hated that he couldn’t just accept your love at face value anymore, that he had to question it, analyze it, pick it apart. He missed the days when love felt simple, when it was just you and him against the world.

But those days were gone, weren’t they? Now, it felt like it was just him, sitting alone in his room, staring at a message that should have meant everything, but instead, left him feeling empty.

Chan wasn’t sure what the future held for you two. Maybe you could work through this, find a way back to each other. Or maybe this was the beginning of a slow, inevitable drift apart. Either way, he knew one thing for sure—something had changed. And once change happens, there’s no going back to the way things were. Not really.

For now, all he could do was sit with the uncertainty, with the doubt. And as he lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t help but wonder if love, a relationship, friendship, was supposed to feel this complicated, this fragile. Or if maybe, just maybe, it was time to let go.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @dis-trict9 @minh0scat @jinnie-ret

[victoria-daydreams]

The Winner Takes It All||Challengers

AN: So, I finally I got to see Challengers yesterday and boy do I have thoughts that may or may not be weaved into the story, things still might be ooc or wrong. Also, I'm warning y'all now, I know absolutely nothing about tennis/college and partook in half ass research on how the sport functions.

Based this fic off the most gut wrenching ABBA song because it fits so well with the story. I hope you all enjoy this mini series, don't know if I did it justice from translating this from my head onto Tumblr, but we move. And hopefully there aren't any spelling or grammar errors, but if there are, we die like men.

A playlist for this series is coming soon!

Word Count: 3.5k

Trigger Warnings: mentions of colorism and racism

Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kailkailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everydayimagineer @pnkstalli @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey

I tried to tag everyone who commented, but tumblr is being weird so I don't know if you'll get the notification.

Part One: Sugar & Spice

With her arms folded across her chest, Gianna's eyes were glued to the TV screen in front of her as two male sports analysts began to discuss their pick for match of the day.

"Oh man, this right here was my favorite today!" one analyst stated excitedly.

"For sure! It was the match to watch as the tennis world bore witness to the next up-and-coming tennis star," the other commentator agreed.

The camera cut away from the men and to the highlights of the mixed doubles championship match.

"Out the gate Gianna Langdon, ranked number five in girls singles, set the the tone for the day with a powerful ace to start the match,"

A clip of the opening minute of the match is put on the screen with Gianna throwing the ball high in the air for the first, and perfectly executed serve, followed by her pumping her fist in triumph with a grin.

"From there, she and her partner, Max Sullivan, kept their opponents, Roy Christians and Marie Riviera on the back foot for what seemed like the entire match,"

Gianna studied the way she nimbly moved around on the grass court, her swift volleys, sharp serves, and effortless backhands left no room for doubt that she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Play of the match goes to none other than Gianna Langdon, with this volley to put the nail in the coffin of this championship," the analyst reported, as the final moments of the match popped up on the screen.

With a powerful strike, the tennis ball was slammed back over the net by Roy onto Gianna's side of the court. Roy's hit lifted the ball high into the air forcing Gianna to reposition herself and backpedal to the spot to return it. Leaping up, Gianna smashed the ball down with force, out of reach from both Marie and Roy, the game winning hit. The clip replayed, but only this time in slow motion, so viewers at home could properly admire the athleticism on display. ESPN then did a jump cut of Gianna and Max both dropping their rackets simultaneously before rushing towards each other to embrace. Max even lifted up her a bit, twirling them around as they celebrated their victory.

The camera panned back to the two commentators who were wrapping up their coverage of the tournament.

"Honestly, Gianna Langdon just dominates the tennis field for her age group whether it's single or doubles," the commentator complimented, gathering his papers up in his hands and tapping it against the desk.

Gianna's lips lifted at the praise, its rare she gets her flowers as a tennis player.

"She's a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about that. If she keeps playing like she is now, she can easily break into the top three, but she's no Tashi Duncan," the other commentator corrected.

At this, her smile instantly fell off her face. Since freshman year of high school, Gianna has forever lived under the inescapable shadow of the phenomenal, powerhouse that is Tashi Duncan. Because Tashi wasn't just some athlete, she was the athlete. The next Serena Williams, as some people taken to calling her. Gianna might as well been chopped liver.

The girls have been thick as thieves since Gianna moved to the same school as Tashi and was paired up by their coach to be doubles partners. The duo were unstoppable on the court, as Gianna was a tennis prodigy in her own right, but often was relegated to just being known as Tashi Duncan's partner. A repeated slight which didn't go unnoticed by her two strongest supporters, her parents. They made it their mission to drill Gianna with an unshakable sense of self confidence in not only her skills with a tennis racket, but also her appearance.

"Don't you ever let the media or naysayers play in your face about your talents, Gianna," her father's words echoing in her head. "You already know, you have to work twice as hard to get half the recognition compared to others," he went on.

Gianna recalled the exact day, he gave her this speech. She was probably fifteen and won a match against some Eastern European girl, it was an upset, and boy did everyone make it a point to tell her so. It ranged from backhanded compliments to outright slurs lobbed at her.

"Oh, so when Tashi pulverizes her opponent on the court who's ranked higher than her it's admirable, but when I do it's a problem!" she complained.

"Competing against Tashi, you need to be prepared that narratives are going to be formed and pushed from factors beyond your control," her father warned. "She's lighter, you're darker. She's thin, you have curves. You're both confident, but only one of you is going to be labeled as arrogant," he listed.

"It's a shame we didn't get to see Duncan and Langdon compete together in girls doubles this year," the analyst said, snapping Gianna out her thoughts.

"Agreed, the best girl duo in juniors we've seen in years,"

Images of Gianna and Tashi materialized on the screen, some were from the last two Junior US Open Championships; both of the, proudly beaming and holding their trophies high above their heads and kissing each other's cheek. But, the one picture that stood out the most to Gianna was their cover on Tennis. Both of them had their arms folded and their game faces on with the headline emblazoned below them.

“Sugar & Spice”

~~~x~~~

Rounding the corner of the hallway, the doors where Tashi's party was being held outside came into Gianna's view. Music and the low murmur of voices floated out of the room, bouncing off the walls as she drew closer. From the corner of Gianna's eyes, she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror promoting her to stop. A pair of eyes, identical to color of rich, molasses stared back at her. Carefully, Gianna studied herself in the mirror from every angle. The healthy glow of her golden, deep brown skin made the light dusting of freckles decorating her upper cheeks and nose more prominent.

"She's no Tashi Duncan,"

It only took those four, little words to dampen Gianna's cheery demeanor and leave her brooding since the afternoon.

Lips pursed, she shook her head slightly, "No, no, no," she whispered to herself. "You're still a champion, Gianna. Fuck that ESPN analyst," she said lowly, smoothing out the pale yellow halter dress she wore.

Letting a lopsided grin grow on her lips, Gianna moved away from the mirror and entered into the ballroom where the party was in full swing. She weaved her way through the crowd to find Tashi, but found herself stopping repeatedly to smile and shake hands as people crowded round her to congratulate her on her match. Gianna couldn't help but feel smug. For once, people were basking in her presence and enjoying the chance to meet a future tennis star in person. It boosted Gianna's ego—a pure, bone-deep satisfaction that something in the air was beginning to shift.

She was starting to be seen as a standout player, not just an extension to Tashi.

Thanking her last well wisher, Gianna's eyes met Tashi's who was a few feet from where she stood. A flicker of recognition flittered across her face and she smiled a tiny smile. Tashi was not alone though, two boys were standing in front her and seemed to be having a very lively conversation.

"What's this I see?" Gianna wondered aloud, brushing past one of the boys. "I'm gone for a minute and you're already making new friends without me," she joked, dropping into the empty chair next to Tashi.

Across from her, both boys were slack jawed and unable to tear their eyes away Gianna. Pride simmered in her chest, Gianna already knew that she was beautiful, but it was nice to be reminded of that fact every now and then. Especially, when there's two boys ogling at her looks and treating her like a divine being.

"You boys gonna stop staring and introduce yourselves, or what?" Gianna questioned, her words flavored with a lulling Louisiana drawl and the boys snapped from their stupor.

"Let me, these two seem to be malfunctioning," Tashi cut in, with a smirk.

"They keep on drooling any longer, they'll catch flies," Gianna quipped, her nude colored lips curling upwards.

Tashi motioned to the dark haired boy with sharp features, "This is Patrick Zweig," she introduced, as Gianna's eyes met Patrick's gray ones, holding her stare and grinning widely. Confidence that bordered on cockiness practically radiated off him. "And this is Art Donaldson," Tashi continued, gesturing to the boy next to Patrick.

Art only allowed himself a small, shy, smile when her eyes shifted over to him. Unabashedly, Gianna let her eyes roam over Art's features. Those blond curls, those blue eyes.

God, they're both gorgeous.

Tashi placed her hand on Gianna's knee, "Patrick and Art, this is my best friend—" she started.

"Gianna Langdon," Patrick and Art interjected simultaneously, causing a Cheshire grin to form on Gianna's lips.

"Well, well, my fan club only continues to grow this tournament," Gianna joked, playing with the curly ends of her pick and drop braids.

"Deservedly so, you were absolutely amazing this tournament," Art complimented, a breathy chuckle leaving him.

"That play when you landed a split after playing a return," Patrick mentioned, beaming at her. "And you still got the point, fucking incredible!" he praised, shaking his head.

She smiled, "Oh, so you two have been avidly watching my matches then?" Gianna questioned, playfulness in her voice while slightly leaning forward in her seat.

"Ashamedly, not initially," Art admitted, and Gianna quirked brow. "But after your storybook comeback in Round 4, we knew there was no way we couldn’t stop watching you," he added quickly.

"Singles or doubles," Patrick chimed in.

"Did you by chance watch any of our matches, Gianna?" Art asked timidly, staring at her with hopeful eyes.

She smirked, "Singles or doubles?" Gianna asked back, smoothly echoing Patrick's words.

"Either," Patrick responded, his eyes drinking her in.

They both seemed mesmerized. Leaning in closer, as if they were going to learn her with their close proximity. Gianna hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair and raising a finger to her chin to mull over the question. She glanced over to Tashi, who was already watching her with an amused expression. Embarrassingly, Gianna kind of forgot her best friend was literally sitting next to her, she had become too engrossed in her conversation with the newcomers.

"No, can't say that I have," Gianna answered finally, with a shrug.

Art deflated, his face falling as the tips of his ears went fiery red, while Patrick's shoulders sagged a little.

"O-Oh," Art breathed.

There was a silence. Gianna looked off to her side again to see a ghost of a grin threatening to appear on Tashi's face. When the two girls' eyes connected with each other, they burst out laughing at the same time. Both boys looked at each other wordlessly, both speechless by this.

"Gia's just fucking with you two," Tashi explained, in between laughter.

Relief couldn't have been written across their faces more clearly.

"Yeah, I actually watched your championship match while I was in the recovery room," Gianna informed, her giggles subsiding. "Your between the legs shot was very inspired, Patrick," she remarked, with a smile.

At this, Patrick puffed out his chest a bit.

"You know, they're playing against each other tomorrow in the boys singles championship match," Tashi mentioned, her eyes bouncing between the boys.

"Are they now?" Gianna responded, an intrigued smirk gracing her face while crossing one leg over the other.

"We are!" Art blurted out, almost too eagerly.

"You both should come and watch," Patrick suggested.

Gianna cocked her head to the side, "Hmm, maybe," she answered, having a little fun toying with them.

Tashi rose from her chair, reaching her hand out for Gianna's.

"Come on, my dad is waving me over to come take pictures," Tashi informed.

"This is a group activity?" Gianna questioned, her brows furrowing.

"No, but the demand for Gianna Langdon is ever growing," she reminded, her eyes filled with mirth.

"It sure is," Gianna agreed, taking her hand as her friend helped her to her feet. Gianna looked over to Patrick and Art. "Well, ciao. It was nice meeting y'all," Gianna said, waving goodbye as Tashi led her away.

"Goodbye?" Patrick jokingly scoffed. "We'll be here all night!" he called out after her.

~~~x~~~

True to their word, Patrick and Art were in the same spot where Gianna and Tashi had left them earlier and they were more than willing to continue hanging out with the girls. Which is how the group of four found themselves on the beach, slowly treading along the sand, the dark blue sky and millions of stars above them. Naturally, Tashi had found herself in the middle of the group with Patrick flanking on her left and Art on her right.

Gianna was next to Art and as they walked, their arms would accidentally brush against each other every now and then. Both of them exchanging shy smiles at the fleeting contact that sent butterflies fluttering in Gianna's stomach. She secretly relished the contact from Art, he radiated warmth similar to that of a dryer-warm blanket; a nice contrast to the cool sand between her toes.

"You know earlier, Tashi asked us who was fire and who was ice," Patrick spoke, looking over to Gianna. "I figured I should return the favor, between the two of you, who's sugar and who's spice?" he asked, his eyes bouncing from Tashi to her.

"Tashi, is definitely 'spice'," Gianna answered, and Tashi rolled her eyes with a smile. "She's more fiery than me and has a more aggressive play style than I do," she explained.

"Making you 'sugar', of course," Art reasoned, the two staring at one another. "You are the perfect mix of deadly grace and effortless balance on the court," he described, going in an almost dreamlike trance.

"Why, thank you Art," Gianna said, bumping her arm into his.

"If Tashi is 'spice' and your 'sugar', why does the media switch it around?" Patrick wondered.

"Preconceived notions, methinks," Gianna replied, simply shrugging her shoulders.

They wandered along until they settled on a spot to hang out at. Art and Patrick both sat in deck chairs while Tashi and Gianna perched themselves on a large rock. Conversation flowed between all them on a myriad of topics ranging from college, life in general, and of course tennis.

"So Gianna," Patrick began, a small curious and mischievous glint in his eyes. "Your doubles partner Bryce—"

"It's Max," Gianna corrected flatly, with a laugh.

He smirked, "I was in the ballpark," Patrick argued, throwing his hands up. "Anyways, you and Max, you two a thing?" he asked curiously, before taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Eww, no!" Tashi exclaimed, her nose twisting in disgust. "You think Gia has such low standards?" she asked back, clearly offended on Gianna's behalf.

"Tashi, come on, Max is not that bad of a person," Gianna stated, lifting her hand up to tell her to calm down.

"Honestly, I don't know how she does it," Tashi went on. "It's a miracle she can still walk after carrying Max through this entire tournament," she sneered.

"Look, Max is not someone who I would consider as an ideal mixed doubles partner," Gianna conceded, her gaze meeting everyone's. "He's mediocre actually," she said bluntly, making Patrick and Art both snicker. "However, Max as an individual and not as an athlete, he's a wonderful guy," she said, with a slight shrug. "Us dating has never once crossed my mind," she finished, waving her hand dismissively.

"So it sounds like you'll be in need of a new partner soon," Patrick hinted, a hunger in his stare.

"Hmm, I guess I will," Gianna agreed, letting a coy smile grow on her lips. "You know anybody?" she asked, tilting her head a little.

"I can think of two people off the top of my head," Art responded, taking a drag of his own cigarette and blowing it out slowly.

"Oh, is that so? And who just—" Gianna started.

Suddenly, Gianna's phone began noisily vibrating in her lap, putting an end to the playful between the boys and Gianna. She picked up her phone and flipped it open before exhaling heavily, it was her dad texting her.

"Shit, fun's over guys," Gianna announced, with another sigh. "My dad wants me back in my room," she explained, unfolding her legs.

"Your won a championship today, and you're father won't let you stay up late to celebrate?" Patrick asked in disbelief, leaning forward in his chair.

"Obviously, you don't know my father if you think a single championship win is going to get him to loosen his reins on his regimented schedule for me," Gianna stated, grabbing her sandals and letting them dangle from her fingers.

"You're about to be off to Stanford, it's insane your dad is giving you a curfew," Art chimed in.

"Well, I'm not at Stanford yet," Gianna pointed out. "And also..." she trailed off, turning to Tashi who had a knowing look on her face. "His roof, his rules," they both said in unison, after hearing those words countlessly over the years.

Finally standing up from the rock, the boys followed suit. Both of their gazes traveled the length of Gianna yet again, as if they needed to commit her to memory.

"I can walk you back to the ferry and to your hotel," Art offered kindly.

"We both could," Patrick volunteered.

"As much as I am flattered that both of you want to walk me back, I can manage just fine," Gianna assured. "Plus, we're all going to be playing an unwanted game of 21 questions if my dad sees two, random white boys walking me to my room," she remarked, with a chuckle.

Tashi pushed herself up onto her feet, "I'll come with you, Gia,"

"No, no stay, Tashi," Gianna encouraged. "Don't end the fun on my account," she insisted. "Another time will come about for all of us to hang out again, right?" she questioned.

A toothy grin broke out on Patrick's face, "There's gonna be another time?" he asked

"I don't see why not," she answered, mirroring his expression. "The three of us are going to be at Stanford together, and I'm sure you come visit from time to time. It all works out so well!" Gianna said excitedly.

Art opened his mouth to speak, but the shrill ringing of Gianna's phone silenced him. Looking down at the phone, she grimaced slightly.

"Shit, I really have to go, my dad is calling now," Gianna stressed.

"Then get going," Tashi prompted, playfully swatting her bottom.

A surprised whoop escaped Gianna's lips before morphing into a giggle as she began to half-walk, half-jog away from the group. She spun around to face them, continuing to walk backwards.

"This was really fun y'all, we should do this again, yeah?" she yelled.

"I look forward to it!" Art yelled back.

"Me too!" Patrick shouted.

Laughing, Gianna spun around and jogged away, all too aware of the three pair of eyes boring into her back.

~~~x~~~

Propped up against the hotel bed headboard, Gianna was tucked underneath the blankets with a well-worn copy of Baking with Julia in her hands. If tennis was her first love, then baking was her second. There was nothing more relaxing than to Gianna than being able to slow down and just allowing herself to focus on precision, without any of the heightened stakes that came with tennis. Not to mention, beating eggs or whisking a cake were great ways to rid herself of any frustration she may be feeling.

A series of rhythmic knocks on her door pulled Gianna from her musings. She didn't even have to ask who it was, she could tell by the pattern of the familiar knock.

"Just use the card I gave you, Tashi," Gianna called, her voice just loud enough for her to hear.

There's a quiet click of the door unlocking before the door opened a crack and Tashi's head popped into her room, a shit eating grin on her face.

"Hurry up and get in here, before my dad sees!" Gianna ordered, with a laugh.

Closing the door behind her, Tashi pranced over to Gianna and sat beside her on the floor on the edge of her bed.

"Tell me everything! What happened after I left?" Gianna asked, a smile of her own on her face.

"They invited me to come up to their room,"

"And you went?"

"I did," Tashi answered, a smirk on her lips.

Gianna landed a playful hit on Tashi's arm, "No fucking way!" she whispered, her eyes wide. "You hooked up with both of them?"

"I didn't sleep with them," Tashi corrected. "We only made out, and then they made out," she added, smirking proudly.

Gianna raised an eyebrow, "They made out? Patrick and Art?" she questioned.

"Yep," Tashi grinned.

"On their own or did they have some help?" Gianna asked, arching a brow.

Wordlessly, Tashi plucked Gianna's book from her hands and she straddled her, resting each leg on either side of Gianna.

"They did most of the heavy lifting, I just gave them the push they needed," Tashi explained, looping her arms around her friend's neck.

"Now, I'm a little jealous. I missed out on all the fun," Gianna complained, sticking out her lower lip in a mock pout.

"Gia babe, don't worry, I did not forget about you," Tashi reassured, as Gianna hands came to rest on Tashi's thighs. "Remember their match tomorrow?" she reminded.

"Yeah,"

"Winner gets my number…." Tashi trailed off, removing her right arm from around Gianna's neck. "And yours," she finished, lightly tapping the tip of her nose.

A slow smile spread across Gianna's lips as Tashi's words sunk in. She knew exactly what her friend was up to, especially if it meant Tashi could watch some "real fuckin' tennis".

"Tashi Duncan, the girl that you are," Gianna praised, letting out a chuckle.

Leaning forward, Gianna planted a soft kiss on Tashi's lips. It was only meant to be a quick peck, but as Gianna went to pull away, Tashi held her face, keeping their lips connected.

Tashi withdrew herself from Gianna, "Tomorrow is gonna be so fucking good," she grinned, her eyes twinkling at the thought. "And guess what is the best part about all of this, Gia?" she questioned, their forehead resting against each others.

"What?'

"We already have them wrapped our fingers, without even trying," Tashi answered, sending the girls into a fit of giggles.

Part II: Maneaters

[misshoneyimhome]

For Dad!Willy X reader can we get one where his family/teammates meet the baby for the first time 💙

Honestly, I can’t even put into words how much I’m loving all the dad!Willy content we’ve been diving into lately! I’m in such a mood for it, and if I’m honest, I’ve got a ton more thoughts and ideas—but I’m keeping it short and sweet to make it an easy read 😉 Absolutely obsessed! Hopefully, you’re enjoying it as much as I am, babes 🤗

Tropes & warnings: no warnings, except once again overload cuteness! Dad!Willy x reader, baby!Eliot, meeting family and friends

Word count: 1K

➼｡ﾟ

First Impressions and Family Ties I dad!willy x reader ✐

The condo buzzed with a palpable mix of excitement and nerves as you cradled Eliot in your arms, your gaze flicking over to William. He stood leaned against the kitchen counter, exuding a level of calm that felt borderline infuriating given the storm brewing in your chest. His easy smile didn’t match the worry swirling in your head—a chaotic blend of pride, anxiety, and a desperate desire to make everything perfect.

“What if he cries the whole time?” you burst out, pacing the living room while Eliot nuzzled against your chest, utterly unbothered by your spiralling thoughts. “What if someone holds him, and he poops everywhere? Or—what if he spits up on your mum?”

William’s chuckle rumbled softly, a sound that somehow made you want to both relax and glare at him. Pushing off the counter, he crossed the room in a few casual strides, radiating an effortless confidence you couldn’t wrap your head around. “Babe,” he said, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you close, “he’s a baby. That’s literally his job. And my mum raised five of us—trust me, she’s seen worse.”

You shot him a look, your nerves clinging stubbornly. “You’re seriously not nervous at all?”

“Not even a little,” he replied without missing a beat, his fingers brushing over Eliot’s downy-soft hair. “They’re going to love him. And he’s got you, so what’s there to worry about?”

Before you could muster a response, the faint ding of the elevator reached your ears, followed by the telltale sound of footsteps approaching. Your heart immediately leaped into overdrive.

“They’re here,” you whispered, clutching Eliot just a little tighter.

William’s hand slid to your shoulder, his thumb drawing soothing circles against your skin. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “We’ve got this.”

The door swung open, and Camilla Nylander was the first to step inside. Her warm smile reached her eyes as she immediately spotted the two of you. “Oh, there you are!” she exclaimed, wrapping William in a quick, affectionate hug before turning to you. “And you,” she said, her tone softening as she kissed your cheek. “It’s so good to see you again, sweetheart.”

Her gaze shifted down to Eliot, and her expression melted into one of pure adoration. “Oh, my sweet boy,” she breathed, her hands coming up to her chest as she took in the sight of him. “He’s even more beautiful than I imagined.” She hesitated, her eyes meeting yours. “May I?”

You nodded, your heart easing as she carefully gathered Eliot into her arms. The practised ease with which she held him—gentle yet confident—was enough to make some of your tension dissipate. Watching her coo softly to him, her face glowing with pride, you felt the tiniest spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

Michael was right behind her, his broad smile as easygoing as his gait. He clapped William on the shoulder before leaning down to get a good look at Eliot. “Got that Nylander charm already,” he said with a knowing grin. “Though I’ll say, he’s a lot calmer than you were as a baby.”

William smirked, his arm still firmly around your waist. “I’ve mellowed out.”

“Oh, sure,” came Alex’s voice as he strode in, Danielle and Stephanie in tow. “That’s why you once tried to use my hockey gloves to fish a puck out of the toilet.”

“That was one time!” William groaned, though his sheepish grin betrayed him.

Danielle leaned in close to Eliot, brushing her fingers lightly over his tiny hands. “Wow,” she said, her voice tinged with awe. “He’s already got more hair than Willy.”

“Okay, what’s with the hair comments today?” William demanded, running a hand through his blond locks for emphasis.

Alex smirked, leaning against the couch. “We’re just saying, enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Michael warned, lifting a hand in mock solemnity. “You two could end up bald like me in ten years. Genetics doesn’t play favourites.”

The room erupted in laughter as the Nylander siblings took turns doting on Eliot. Stephanie cradled him with a quiet confidence, her expression soft as she traced the tiny curve of his fingers. “He’s perfect,” she declared, grinning. “Don’t worry, Eliot. Aunt Steph’s got you. I’ll protect you from Uncle Alex’s terrible jokes.”

The doorbell rang again, cutting through the playful chaos, and William crossed the room to answer it. His teammates filtered in, their familiar banter filling the space.

Rasmus Sandin was the first to approach Eliot, his grin wide and mischievous. “Look at this little guy,” he said, crouching beside Camilla. “Eliot Nylander, already cooler than his dad.”

“Careful, Sandman,” William retorted, his grin mirroring Rasmus’s. “You’re not safe on the ice or off.”

Matthew Knies followed close behind, his towering frame somehow softened by the awe on his face. “He’s amazing,” he murmured, crouching slightly as Eliot let out a soft yawn. “So, when’s his first skating lesson?”

“He’s already better than Willy,” Rasmus quipped, dodging the playful shove William aimed his way.

The condo filled with laughter, warm chatter, and the occasional sound of Eliot’s soft sighs as he was passed from one adoring pair of arms to the next. When John Tavares finally stepped forward to hold him, the room grew momentarily quiet. His steady presence radiated calm as he gazed down at the baby. “Future captain material,” he said with a smile, glancing up at William.

William laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “One step at a time, Johnny. Right now, we’re just trying to keep the pacifier in.”

As the evening wore on, the space felt warmer, filled with the unmistakable hum of love and connection. You caught William watching you from across the room, his eyes soft and full of something unspoken. When he finally made his way back to your side, his hand rested at the small of your back, his touch grounding you as his lips quirked into a soft, knowing smile.

And in that moment, with Eliot nestled safely, surrounded by laughter and love, you realised this wasn’t just a gathering. This was family. This was home.

[lila-lou]

✨Youth✨

Summary: After another argument with his wife, Jensen ends up alone in a bar. When he meets you, he is quickly drawn by your carefree youth.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, dirty talk, rough sex, language, age gap, cheating

Word Count: 4597

A/N: No hate towards anybody. It's just fiction.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

It was some Thursday evening when Jensen was sitting alone in a bar in the middle of Austin.

He sat at the counter, nursing a drink, his mind consumed by yet another argument with his wife. For over four interminable years, the thought of divorce had lingered like a shadow at the edge of his consciousness, but the specter of his children and the looming threat of financial ruin held him captive in a loveless marriage.

Lost in his thoughts, he was jolted awake by the approach of a young woman, her youthful allure a stark contrast to the turmoil that churned within him. She flashed him a dazzling smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she slid onto the stool beside him.

"Rough night?", she asked, her voice sweet as sugar.

Jensen couldn't help but return her smile, captivated by her radiant presence. "You could say that", he replied, his voice tinged with wistfulness.

Undeterred, the woman leaned in closer, her laughter like a melody in the air. "Well, how about we make it a little less rough?", she suggested, her words laced with a tantalizing promise.

As they bantered back and forth, Jensen found himself drawn to her effortless charm, the weight of his burdens momentarily forgotten in her company. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy of a life unencumbered by responsibility.

As the night wore on, they laughed and flirted, sharing stories and secrets as if they had known each other for a lifetime. And in that fleeting moment of connection, Jensen felt a glimmer of hope stirring within him, a whisper of possibility amidst the chaos of his crumbling marriage.

As the bar began to empty, Jensen reluctantly prepared to bid farewell to the captivating young woman who had momentarily lifted his spirits. With a heavy heart, he watched as she gathered her belongings, preparing to leave.

"Leaving already?", he asked, his voice tinged with regret.

The woman flashed him a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "I'm afraid so", she replied, a hint of disappointment in her tone.

But before she could slip away, Jensen reached out, his hand gently clasping her arm. "Wait", he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Surprised, the woman turned back to him, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Everything okay?", she asked, concern coloring her words.

Jensen hesitated, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. "Do you have any plans for the rest of the night?", he asked, his voice tentative.

The woman regarded him for a moment, uncertainty clouding her features. "Not particularly", she admitted. "Why do you ask?".

"How about we grab another drink? Somewhere a little quieter?", he suggested, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.

The woman studied him for a moment, her gaze searching his face for any sign of insincerity. But finding none, she returned his smile.

"Sure", she said, her voice filled with newfound enthusiasm. "Lead the way".

With a renewed sense of purpose, Jensen rose from his seat, a surge of anticipation coursing through his veins. And as they stepped out into the cool night air, he allowed himself to forget everything except the girl next to him.

Side by side, they walked through the deserted streets, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the silence.

"So, tell me about yourself", Jensen began, his voice tentative yet eager.

You glanced at him, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "What do you want to know?", you asked, your tone teasing.

Jensen hesitated, unsure of where to begin. But then, emboldened by the anonymity of the night, he decided to take a leap of faith.

"I want to know about the real you", he said, his voice low and earnest. "The parts you don't usually share with strangers".

You regarded him for a moment, your gaze softening with understanding. "Alright", you said. "But fair warning, you asked for it".

As you walked, your conversation drifted effortlessly towards more intimate topics, your words a tapestry of shared confessions and unspoken desires. With each passing moment, Jensen felt himself opening up in ways he never thought possible, the barriers he had erected around his heart slowly crumbling in the presence of you.

And then, your conversation took an even more intimate turn, the topic of your own miserable sex lives hanging heavy in the air like a forbidden fruit waiting to be plucked.

Jensen couldn't shake the feeling of nostalgia that washed over. Your youthful exuberance and carefree spirit reminded him of a time long gone, a time when the world was filled with endless possibilities and the future stretched out before him like an open road.

"You know", he began, his voice tinged with a hint of longing, "I used to have a lot more fun before I got married".

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Tell me more", you teased.

Jensen chuckled, the memories flooding back with startling clarity. "Back then, I didn't have a care in the world. It was all about living in the moment, seizing every opportunity that came my way", he explained, a smile playing on his lips.

"And the sex", he added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Fuck, the sex was wild. No rules, no boundaries, just pure, unadulterated passion".

"Sounds like you had quite a few adventurous years", you remarked, a hint of admiration in your voice.

Jensen nodded, a nostalgic twinkle in his eye. "I did", he admitted. "But then life happened, and before I knew it, I was knee-deep in responsibilities and obligations".

As you walked on, Jensen couldn't help but admire your youthful beauty. In your presence, he felt a sense of longing stir within him, a yearning for the carefree days of his youth when the world was his for the taking.

Jensen's voice, low and tinged with longing, broke the silence. "You know", he began, his words carrying a weight of confession, "I miss the thrill of a more adventurous sex life. The… rough stuff".

Your eyes sparkled as you turned to him, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "Oh, I know exactly what you mean", you replied. "But do tell me more".

Jensen took a deep breath, emboldened by your encouragement. "I miss the excitement, the unpredictability", he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "And the way younger girls bring a certain... something unused to the experience".

"I just want a man who knows how to take charge", you confessed.

You continued and told Jensen what you liked in bed and how no one had really managed to do it for you before

Jensen found himself growing increasingly aroused by your confession, his thoughts consumed by fantasies of fulfilling your deepest desires. Feeling a stirring of nervous excitement, Jensen’s heart raced as he struggled to contain the torrent of desire that threatened to consume him. Yet, emboldened by your candidness, he couldn’t resist the urge to flirt back, his words dripping with innuendo and suggestion.

“You have no idea what your words do to me”, he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

His words, laden with longing and need, sent a shiver of excitement coursing down your spine.

A nervous giggle escaped your lips as you met his gaze, your own desire mirrored in the depths of his eyes. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea", you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to hear you say it".

Jensen's breath hitched at your response, his heart pounding in his chest. "I want you", he confessed, his voice raw with need. "I want to fuck you so good until you beg me to stop”.

Your pulse quickened at his declaration, your body thrumming with anticipation as you felt the heat of his gaze upon you.

Feeling a surge of excitement, you took Jensen's hand in yours, your touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through his veins. You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "Follow me".

Jensen's heart raced at your command, his desire for you reaching a fever pitch as he eagerly complied. With a sense of urgency, you set off through the streets, as you made your way towards your apartment.

And as you finally reached your building, the air hummed with the promise of what was to come.

With a sense of urgency, you led Jensen inside, your movements confident and sure.

With a seductive smile, you shrugged off your jacket, letting it fall to the floor in a silent invitation. Your movements were fluid and graceful, each sway of your hips sending a surge of desire coursing through Jensen's veins.

As you moved towards the kitchen, you cast a playful glance over your shoulder, catching Jensen's eye with a knowing smirk. Without a word, you reached into the fridge, retrieving two ice-cold beers and popping the caps off with a deft twist of your wrist.

Jensen couldn't tear his gaze away as you bent down to grab the beers, the curve of your ass accentuated by the tight fabric of your dress. His pulse quickened at the sight.

With a saucy grin, you straightened up, holding out one of the beers to Jensen with a playful wink. "Thirsty?", you purred.

Jensen nodded, his mouth suddenly dry as he accepted the beer from your outstretched hand. "You have no fucking idea", he replied, his voice husky with desire.

Your fingers brushed for a fleeting moment, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you both. You settled onto the couch, your bodies inches apart.

Jensen´s heart raced with anticipation as he shifted closer, his body instinctively drawn to yours like a moth to a flame.

Feeling your presence beside him, Jensen's senses heightened, every movement and gesture amplified by the intoxicating allure of your proximity. He licked his lips nervously, his gaze flickering to your face as he struggled to contain the desire that burned within him.

Meanwhile, you sat nearby, your gaze fixed on Jensen with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Your face rested in your hand, your arm casually draped over the back of the sofa as you observed the unfolding scene with keen interest.

Jensen's breathing grew heavy as he felt your eyes on him. With a shaky breath, he turned his face towards you, his lips parting in a silent question.

"What do you think about?", he asked, his voice husky.

Your lips curved into a knowing smile as you met his gaze. “I think", you replied, your voice low and sultry, "that you're thinking about the same thing I am".

Jensen's pulse quickened at your words. With a hungry look in his eyes, he leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, "And what might that be?".

Your smile widened into a playful grin as you also leaned in closer, your lips tantalizingly close to his ear. "I think", you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, "that we're both thinking about how good it's going to feel when you finally bury yourself deep inside me ".

With a primal growl of need, Jensen closed the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss.

Your mouths moved together in a heated dance of tongues and lips. Jensen's hands roamed eagerly over your body, tracing every curve.

Feeling you respond to his touch, Jensen's desire intensified, his need for you becoming a relentless ache deep within his core. With a bold move, he pulled you onto his lap, the heat of your body pressing against his.

As you continued to kiss, Jensen's arousal surged, his erection straining against the confines of his now uncomfortably tight jeans. The ache between his legs only served to fuel his desire, his need for release.

With a low groan of frustration, Jensen shifted uncomfortably, the pressure of his arousal pressing insistently against your body. He could feel the heat of you through the thin fabric of your clothing, each touch sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through him.

But even as his desire threatened to consume him, Jensen couldn't tear himself away from your lips. With each kiss, each caress, he felt himself falling deeper under your spell, lost in a whirlwind of passion and longing that left him dizzy with need.

As you pressed yourself tighter against Jensen's throbbing arousal, a low growl of desire escaped his lips.

With a husky voice, Jensen whispered into your ear, his words dripping with desire. "You feel so good against me", he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "I can't wait to make you feel even better".

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver of anticipation running down your spine. You leaned back, exposing your neck to him. Unable to resist the temptation, Jensen trailed kisses along the curve of your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He savored the taste of your skin, the sweetness driving him crazy.

As he kissed your neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer with a sense of urgency. Your nails grazed lightly against his scalp.

As Jensen's hands moved to pull off your clothes, a surge of primal desire consumed him. With each garment removed, he admired the youthful beauty of your body, his gaze lingering on your curves with a hunger that bordered on obsession.

"You're so beautiful", he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "I could spend hours touching every inch of you".

Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of excitement and anticipation as you met his gaze, your eyes smoldering with desire. "I want you", you confessed, your voice breathless with need. "I need you".

With a hungry look in his eyes, Jensen continued to admire your naked form, his hands tracing the contours of your skin

"Fuck, you're perfect", he breathed, his voice husky with longing.

As Jensen's lips trailed down your neck, a soft moan escaped your lips, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. With each kiss, each suck, you felt yourself growing more and more aroused.

"Oh, Jensen", you gasped, your voice thick with desire. "That feels so good"-

Encouraged by your response, Jensen continued his ministrations, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of your exposed skin. The softness of your flesh driving him wild with desire.

As he reached your breasts, Jensen's mouth watered at the sight of them, their perfect shape and form calling out to him like a siren's song. With a sense of reverence, he took one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling gently as he teased it with his tongue.

Your breath hitched at the sensation, your hands tangling in Jensen's hair as you arched your back, offering yourself up to him completely.

"Jensen", you moaned, your voice a breathless plea.

Without a word, Jensen scooped you up into his arms, carrying you towards your bedroom with a sense of urgency. He stumbled through the darkness, your bodies pressed together in a frantic embrace.

Finally, you reached your bedroom.

You knelt down before Jensen. With shaky fingers, you reached for his belt, your movements slow and uncertain as you struggled to control yourself.

Jensen watched you with a mixture of amusement and desire, his ego swelling with satisfaction at the sight of your submission.

With a deep breath, you continued to undress him. As you pulled down his jeans to reveal the full extent of his arousal, your breath caught in your throat at the sight, your eyes widening.

"Come on, sweetheart", he murmured. "I know you can handle it."

Your heart raced at his words, a shiver of fear running down your spine as you gazed up at him. His size intimidated you, but a part of you craved the challenge, the thrill of pushing your limits and surrendering yourself completely to him.

Jensen smirked at your reaction.

With a newfound determination, you reached out to touch him, your fingers still trembling as you wrapped them around his throbbing length.

His size was more than you were accustomed to, and you struggled to take him fully into your mouth. With each attempt, you bobbed your back and forth, your lips stretched tight around him as you tried to accommodate his girth.

Jensen groaned in pleasure as he felt your warm mouth enveloping him, your efforts to please him driving him wild with desire. He watched with a mixture of arousal and amusement as you struggled with his size, your determination to please him evident in every movement.

"That's it, baby", he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Take as much as you can".

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your inability to fully satisfy him, but you refused to give up. You redoubled your efforts, your tongue swirling around him as you tried to find a rhythm that worked for both of you.

Jensen's pleasure intensified as he felt your efforts, your dedication to pleasing him.

As Jensen's desire reached a crescendo, he felt a surge of primal instinct take hold. With a commanding grip, he gently guided your head, urging you to take him deeper into your mouth.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt Jensen's firm hand guiding your movements. Despite your initial apprehension, you surrendered to his touch, allowing him to take control as you continued to pleasure him.

Jensen groaned in pleasure as he felt your lips tighten around him, your mouth stretching. With each thrust, he felt himself growing closer to the edge.

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as you struggled to keep up with Jensen's pace. Your throat constricted around him as you fought to take him in, the sensation both overwhelming and exhilarating.

With a gasp for air, you pushed against his thighs, desperately trying to free yourself from his grasp.

Sensing your distress, Jensen quickly stepped out of his jeans, releasing you from his hold. With a swift motion, he pushed you roughly onto the bed, his movements fueled by a desire to claim you completely.

You lay beneath him, your chest heaving with exertion as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes widened in anticipation as Jensen spread your legs apart, his gaze fixated on your glistening folds with hunger.

Jensen's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him, the sight of your young and glistening pussy filling him with an overwhelming sense of desire. "You're so beautiful", he murmured, his voice husky with lust. "So perfect".

Your cheeks flushed with arousal at his words, your body quivering with anticipation as you awaited his touch. Jensen leaned in close, his lips grazing against your inner thigh as he teased you with his proximity.

As Jensen's lips met your delicate skin, a shudder of pleasure ran through your body, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. With each gentle kiss, each teasing caress, you felt yourself melting under his touch, your arousal building with every passing second.

Jensen's tongue traced a path along your inner thigh, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through your veins. You arched your back, your breath hitching in your throat as you yearned for his touch, your body trembling with desire.

Jensen closed the distance between you, his lips finding your glistening folds. He savored the taste of you, the sweetness of your arousal.

Your moans filled the air as Jensen's skilled tongue danced across your sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you in relentless waves. You clung to the sheets beneath you, your fingers digging into the fabric as you surrendered yourself completely to the ecstasy of the moment.

With each flick of his tongue, each suck, Jensen brought you closer and closer to the edge, his expert ministrations pushing you to the brink of ecstasy. And as you teetered on the edge of oblivion, you gave yourself over to the pleasure completely, your body trembling with the force of your release.

But before you could catch your breath, Jensen was upon you, his desire for you burning like a wildfire. He positioned himself between your trembling thighs, his throbbing length poised at the entrance to your tight, quivering heat.

Your eyes widened in anticipation as you felt Jensen's hardness pressing against you, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You were so tight, so achingly perfect, that Jensen found himself completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

With a primal growl of need, Jensen pushed himself inside you, his cock sinking into your depths with a force that took both of you by surprise. You gasped in pleasure as you felt him fill you completely, your body stretching to accommodate his size.

Jensen's breath came in ragged gasps as he began to move, his hips rocking rhythmically against yours as he plunged deeper and deeper into your warmth. With each thrust, he felt himself growing more and more lost in the heat of their passion.

As Jensen surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure of your union, he couldn't help but marvel at the tightness of your young body.

"You're so tight, baby", he groaned, his voice thick with lust as he buried himself deeper inside you. "So fucking tight".

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, a shiver of pleasure coursing through you as you felt him filling.

“Bet you wish your wife was as tight as me, huh?”, you teased, moaning.

"You think you're tighter?", he growled, his voice low and husky with desire. "Let me show you how tight you can be".

With a hungry gleam in his eyes, Jensen's thrusts grew more forceful, his need for you pushing him to new heights.

"Is that all you've got?", you taunted, your voice laced with desire as you egged him on. "I thought you were supposed to be a real man".

Jensen's grip tightened around your throat, his dominance asserting itself as he pressed you into the mattress with a primal force. "You have no idea what a real man can do", he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You gasped as Jensen's fingers dug into your skin, the mixture of pleasure and pain driving you wild with need. "Show me", you whispered.

You moaned loudly as the intensity of Jensen's thrusts grew, the force of his movements bruising your delicate flesh and causing you to wince in discomfort. But even as you struggled to catch your breath, your desire for him burned hotter than ever.

Feeling your resistance waning, Jensen's grip tightened around your throat even more, with a force that left you seeing stars. The sensation of his hands around your neck sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, the line between pain and pleasure blurring into a haze of desire.

Your body trembling with the force of your arousal. With each thrust, each choked gasp for air, you felt herself teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"You're such a slut for me, aren't you?", he growled, his voice thick with lust as he pounded into you relentlessly. "You love it when I treat you rough, don't you?".

Your breath hitched at his words, a flush of arousal spreading across your skin. Despite the growing ache in your body, you couldn't deny the electric thrill of the intensity.

"Yes", you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

Emboldened by your response, Jensen's movements grew even more aggressive, his hands gripping your hips with a force that left bruises in their wake.

With a rough shove, Jensen you onto your stomach, his desire to dominate you overpowering any concerns for your comfort. As he pushed into you from behind with even more force, you cried out in ecstasy, your body quivering with pleasure.

"You're just a little whore, aren't you?", he snarled, his voice low as he pounded into you relentlessly. "You love it when I use you like this, don't you?".

"Yes", you moaned.

Jensen´s hand coming down in a sharp slap against your exposed flesh.

You gasped as the sting of his hand sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your skin tingling with the sensation. Despite the pain, you found yourself craving more, your desire for him overwhelming any concerns for your own comfort.

"Such a naughty little slut", Jensen growled.

“I want more", you gasped.

Jensen continued to deliver sharp slaps to your ass, each one sending you closer to the brink of ecstasy.

As your orgasm washed over you in a tidal wave of pleasure, your body clenched around Jensen with a newfound intensity, driving him to the brink of madness. Every muscle in your body tensed with the force of your release, your inner walls pulsating rhythmically around him as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

Jensen groaned as he felt your tightness envelop him completely, the sensation driving him wild with desire. With each pulsating throb of your inner muscles, he felt himself growing closer and closer to the edge, his need for release becoming almost unbearable.

But even as he teetered on the brink of ecstasy, Jensen refused to let himself succumb to the overwhelming pleasure. With a low growl, he continued to pound into you with force.

"You like that, huh?", he growled. "You like feeling me deep inside you, filling you up?".

"Yes", you gasped again. "I want you to fuck me harder. I want to feel you deep inside me".

His grip on your hips tightening with each rough thrust

As your passion reached its peak, Jensen and you surrendered yourselves completely to the fiery intensity of your desire. With one final, primal thrust, Jensen buried himself deep inside you, his body trembling with the force of his release.

You cried out in ecstasy as you felt him pulsating within you, another climax crashing over you in a tidal wave of pleasure.

With a guttural moan of satisfaction, Jensen collapsed against you, your bodies entwined in a tangled mess of limbs and sweat.

You couldn't help but grin as you watched Jensen catch his breath, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. With a playful glint in your eyes, you reached out to trace a finger along the contours of his face.

After a while, Jensen rose from the bed and began to dress, a sense of bittersweet reality settled over the room.

You watched him with a mixture of longing and resignation, your heart heavy. As he buttoned up his shirt, Jensen turned to face you, a hesitant expression on his face.

"Can I... can I get your number?", he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. You paused for a moment, your gaze meeting his with a mixture of sadness and resolve.

"I'm sorry", you replied gently. "But that was my last one-night stand. I'm looking for something more serious now".  

Jensen's heart sank at your words, a pang of regret coursing through him. "But", you continued, your voice tinged with warmth, "if you ever decide to truly make a change and get a divorce, hit me up”.

With a nod, Jensen absorbed your words, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. He gathered his belongings, a sense of longing tugging at his heart as he made his way to the door.

As he stepped out into the night, the cool air washing over him, Jensen couldn't shake the feeling of hope that stirred within him. Perhaps one day, when he was truly ready to make a change, he would find his way back to you.

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A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰