#eichenhouseproperty

[pappydaddy]

made for loving you (s.h.)

a/n: we are just pretending that they had the ability to remotely check their voicemail systems in 1985, okay lovelies? awesome!

tv show/movie: stranger things | pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

requested by the lovely @echos-scomplink (ily lovely!)

synopsis: steve fears his chance with y/n is ruined leading to breathless proclamations in the rain. based on i was made for loving you by kiss.

taglist: @the-weeping-author | @lilypad-55449 | @popeheywardssecretgf | @smarie7547 | @eichenhouseproperty | @slytherinambitious | @k-k0129 | @ihatepeanutss | @moralina |  @poppet05 | @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @badass-yn |  @lexi-2004 |@i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo |  @savagemickey03 *line through your user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: depictions of being beat up | blood mentioned | fluff

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____

  King Steve never believed in the whole soulmate idea. He found it certifiably insane for someone to think that someone was made specifically for one person, it was baffling to him. Not only did the idea of commitment send a shockwave akin to the eight-point-zero magnitude earthquake through his body, but the idea of committing to one person blew his feeble little mind. How could someone become so in love with one person? Was it just that it is actually just socially acceptable to have affairs and simply never talk about it? He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t comprehend the rhotic lacing romance novels and movies. How could someone be so obsessed with someone that they devote their whole life to this one person? How could someone be so obsessed with someone that can be happy spending their whole life around someone? Because, certainly, his parents are not happy spending their whole lives together.

  It all fell into place like puzzle pieces in the Summer 1985 when he first laid eyes on Y/N L/N. She worked in the Ladies’ Speciality store on the same floor as Scoops Ahoy. He would see her going to the food court, passing by the Parlour on her way to her shift or leaving for the day. He hadn’t even talked to her and he was infatuated. Not a word was spoken to him from her lips and he was being driven mad by the thought. It wasn’t until Y/N came in to get some ice cream with Robin (the two forming a friendship from working so close together) on her day off before they headed to the community pool that he spoke his first words to her. 

  From there, he was entranced. It all made sense to him. Every poem ever written about the obsession of love. Every line of literature that oozed with the sense of pining. He knew that he was made solely for her. To love her. To hold her. To simply be with her. It was his higher purpose. His calling. He was simply there to be hers. Despite his fumbling attempts at talking to her, Y/N found his dorkiness endearing enough to take a chance on him by making the first move - asking him to call her.  

  Unfortunately, that’s as far as Steve got before getting trapped in a storage room and plummeting into a Russian Underground Base. Her phone number in his passenger seat and the suggestive words of a date hanging in the air of his car from where she uttered them two nights ago. If he hadn’t been trapped and, consequently, kidnapped by Russians, there would be no way in hell Y/N would be at the Fourth of July party with some jock who didn’t even know her favourite ice cream flavour. 

  “I’m sorry,” Steve blinked, a dumb look on his face as he looked at Robin. Robin cocked her head to the side with a roll of her eyes, waiting for Steve to speak as she still held the payphone receiver in the air. “I must have heard you wrong,” He continued, speaking with a chuckle, hoping she was wrong. “‘Cause it sounded like you said that Y/N left you a voicemail saying she was going out on a date tonight-”

  “It’s ‘cause of the giant flesh spider running rampant through Hawkins, isn’t it?” Dustin nodded as if he understood why Steve was so pale after hearing this news. Baffled, Steve and Robin both looked at him as he stood there, sweat staining through his graphic shirt. 

  Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, Steve shot a panicked look between Dustin and Robin. The three of them were off to the side, away from the rest of the scheming groups as Robin checked her voicemail, hoping to hear anything from Y/N to make sure she was okay. “No,” Steve nearly yelled, his voice impossibly high. “Well, now I’m worried about that.” 

  Robin, finally hanging up the phone, sighed. “She said he was taking her to the carnival,” Dread filled Steve. Obviously, Robin noticed since she continued on. “According to Hopper and Joyce, the carnival was untouched by the giant flesh spider-” She gave Dustin a pointed look for wording it that way. “And if this flesh spider is looking for this El girl, Y/N should be safe.” 

  “Again, not what I’m worried about,” Steve stressed, a hand coming up to run through his matted and grimy hair. Blood, sweat, and product weighed his normally fluffy hair down. “I’m more concerned about the fact that she’s out on a date with another guy because I was just trapped in a Russian Base for like three days!”

  Dustin scoffed, causing Steve’s eyes to point angrily at him. “Calm down, Drama Queen. It was like 48 hours,” Dustin looked between Steve and Robin, shrinking slightly as he took in the context of the situation. “Which clearly felt like three days and jeopardised Steve’s chances with Y/N. I can clearly see that now.” 

  Silence enclosed around the three as they stood there. Robin ran the voicemail over in her head, trying to decipher how her new friend felt about this date knowing her feelings for the floppy haired new graduate that currently stood across from her. Dustin, trying to gauge the situation, looked between Robin and Steve before slowly starting to back up in an attempt to remove himself. 

  Steve. Steve was a ball of anxiety. So much so that this made Robin realise that Steve had actually changed. King Steve wouldn’t have cared. King Steve would have just shrugged it off and went off to find his new conquest. She could actually see the doubts and insecurities bubbling to the surface of his mind. “Wow. Nancy Wheeler ruined you, didn’t she?” Robin whispered, but she wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that the words met Steve’s ears. His mind seemed to be screaming too loud for him to hear anything else. 

  “I should’ve just manned up and asked her out,” Steve was beating himself up. Literally. Robin watched, a look of pure shock and bafflement on her freckled face, as he beat a closed fist into an opened hand. Just enough for his already swollen, bruised, and cut face to wince but not enough for it to attract anyone’s attention. “Now, she’s probably having the time of her life with this quarterback who will get a full ride to the University of Alabama or something-” He muttered to himself, the punches continuing, concerning Robin slightly. 

  “Woah, woah, woah,” Robin’s voice cracked slightly as she lunged forward. Gently, her hands grasped Steve’s wrists, keeping him from hitting his hand again. Steve, eyes watering in sheer insecurity, looked at her. Her heart broke for both her new found friends. She knew Y/N wasn’t having the time of her life. A, she hated stereotypical jocks and, if memory serves Robin right, this guy was the quintessential quarterback. B, she wasn’t with Steve - her long-standing crush. Something she admitted to Robin drunkenly. “Go to her.” 

  “What?” Steve’s voice was wobbly. It was soft. 

  “Go to her, Steve. You remember where she lives, you dropped her off that one time when her car wouldn’t start,” She started to explain. “Go to her, tell her how you feel. Lay it all at her feet.” 

  “W-what about everyone else?” He stammered, wide eyes looking towards the cluster of people. Robin waved her hand dismissively, making him look back at her. Her blue eyes were so confident and sure. They were compelling him to listen to her. Confirming that everything will be okay if he just listened to her. 

  They stared at each other, locked in a kind of communication only people destined to be best friends could achieve. “We can survive. We will survive.” She urged him despite the fact that she didn’t believe those words one bit. Swallowing thickly, Steve slowly nodded. Brown eyes casting over the cluster of people. Some he fought side-by-side with for the past two years, some who just joined the battle. They were all probably more capable than Steve at everything. At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

  Squaring his shoulders, he stood to his full height. “I’m going,” He spoke with a firm nod. The kind of nod that sealed some of the best and worst plans in history. “I’m going to her.” Just as the rubber sole of his converse slapped the pristine tile as he started to move towards the exit, unsure of how he’s going to get to Y/N’s place with no car, Hopper’s sharp whistle of his lips stopped him. 

  Seeing a Walkie-Talkie flying through the air, landing right in the scrambling hands of a nervous Dustin, disappointment and dread filled him. He wasn’t going to be able to slip away that easily. He barely listened as Hopper, Dustin, and Erica bickered about how it was best for them to communicate, hoping that whatever the solution was could spare him. His body buzzed with the need to tell Y/N everything. The need to bare his soul to her. The need to be near her - nay. To be hers. 

  The jingle of keys brought him from his locked in zone, letting him catch the keys Hopper was throwing him in time. “Steve’s in charge.” Those words weighted Steve’s soul down to the depths of the bowls of Hell for he knew this night was far from over. 

  “Come on,” Steve gruffed, his drive zeroing in. His sole focus was simply on beating this shit for another time and getting to Y/N as fast as he could. “Let’s kill these bastards.” 

____

  By the time it all fell silent again, rain was pelting down. Once the paramedic’s gave Steve the okay to leave and the firefighters were able to retrieve one of his keys from the Scoops backroom (thank god for cold rooms), he didn’t waste any time speeding off. He knew he should probably change his clothes from something that bore his blood, sweat, and tears, but he simply couldn’t waste another moment. That’s how, after a bout of reckless driving and a few near-misses, Steve was parking on the street, peering into the darkened driveway of Y/N L/N’s house. 

  A moment of hesitation fluttered through him. One thought was about the possibility of her not being home. The other one being the very likely possibility of her being asleep given the late hour. Another thought was about her parents not appreciating a beaten and bloody person professing their love for their daughter. However, a warm glow emitting from an upstairs window and her car being the only one parked in the driveway reassured him enough for him to muster the courage back up to get out of the car. 

  “You just survived two days in a Russian base and an interdimensional creature made of human flesh. You can do this.” He breathed, pumping himself up. Shaking his limbs out, his eyes zeroed in on the front door of her house. Just like a magnet, his body started to be pulled towards her, almost as if it were sure that it was meant to be around her. With a determination greater than the determination he felt to get out of the Russian base, he started to move quicker up her driveway until he was practically running up the rather long driveway, rain pelting his shirt and hair. 

  Standing there, his chest heaved as his back tingled with a mix of excitement and nerves. Before his consciousness could catch up, his finger was jabbing the doorbell repeatedly - much to his own horror. Despite not wanting to continuously ring the doorbell, his finger couldn’t seem to leave it alone until she pulled the door open. It was like his eyes were desperate to see her and his body was doing everything in its power to do just that. 

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Even with the muffled voice barely making it through the wooden front door and the sound of socked feet rushing down the stairs, his finger never ceased to stop pushing the doorbell. Part of him hoped that if the Jock did accompany her back to her place, his incessant doorbell ringing was annoying him. The large majority of him, however, was mortified that he couldn’t seem to stop ringing the damn doorbell. Suddenly, the door was pulled open, the burst of air from the movement making her hair wisp back from her face perfectly and Steve was stunned into a stupor, finger pressing on the button. 

  “Steve,” A look of shock crossed her face before it deepened once she caught the sight of his face in the glow of the entryway light. “Oh, my god, Steve!” She breathed out, concern lacing her voice as her hand came up to delicately cover her mouth as she took in his nearly swollen shut eye. 

  He couldn’t muster up any words. Hell, he couldn’t even take his finger off the doorbell. Hesitantly, Y/N reached out. He wasn’t sure if she was scared of him or scared to hurt him, but once her slightly cold fingers met the wet skin of his wrist, he blinked out of the trace he had been lulled into. “I needed to come see you,” His voice was much more hoarse than what it had been earlier. His throat was dry from the lack of water, but his body was becoming more and more exhausted as the seconds ticked by, but he felt energy shooting through him now that he stood in her presence. “Robin told me about your date with the Jock tonight and I couldn’t lose you just because I was kidnapped by Russians for two days.” 

  “You were what,” Y/N blinked, expression dropping from shocked to horrified. “Steve! You need to go to the hospital or the police station! Not to my house! This is serious-” She started fretting, her hands coming up, looking like they were going to lay on his face. His skin tingled in anticipation of her touch on him and his chest heaved as he tried to control his breathing, his eyes darkening, but her hands stilled halfway there. “Does it hurt?” She breathed, hands slightly shaking as her own adrenaline coursed through her.

  Steve, with another surge of confidence, reached his own hands out to grab her wrists gently. Suddenly, as his fingers wrapped around the softness of her skin, he was all too aware that he hadn’t had a shower in two days and probably smelled horrible. On top of it, he was very much aware of the level of grime on his skin. But Y/N didn’t seem to care as her wrists seemed to sink into his hands, relief washing over her at the feel of his touch. “I’m fine. I got checked over by the paramedics, the Feds were there. I am fine,” He reassured her, noting the worry that still swam within the depths of her eyes. “But I needed to come see you. I would have ran here the second I escaped, but I was stopped.” 

  “Probably the paramedics stopped you because you were kidnapped, Steve,” She blinked and in a split second, guilt consumed him for not being able to tell her more. He was sure he would eventually tell her everything, but he didn’t want to scare her off. “But why did you need to see me so badly, you must be exhausted.” She furrowed her eyebrows, eyes flicking over his face. 

  “I needed to tell you how I feel, Y/N. Hearing that you were out with the Jock tonight, I-” He cut himself off, his throat swelling with emotion. “I couldn’t lose you. I couldn’t lose the person I was made for,” His words were like drops of blood dripping from his bleeding heart. “I can’t get enough of you, Y/N. I need to be around you and I’ve never understood the concept of soulmates until I saw you,” Shock crashed against Y/N like a tidal wave. Staring at the beaten and bruised boy, she could only manage to blink her eyes slowly as his words bleed with passion. “Y/N, there is no doubt in my mind that I was made solely to love you.” 

  Those words hung in the air like an anvil ready to squash Steve as his eyes burned into her shell-shocked ones. Her mouth hung open slightly as he could see her brain processing the words her ears just heard. Suddenly, she snapped back to reality, her jaw softly closing as she stood up, eyes as soft as a plush bed - making Steve want to lay within them for the rest of his life. “Oh Steve,” She breathed out, seemingly overwhelmed with the proclamation. Steve’s heart lurched, the anvil dropping an inch. An equally as soft smile as her eyes graced her lips, but it did little to ease Steve’s anxiety. “I thought you were never going to make a move. I thought you didn’t like me like that-” 

  Her words were cut off as Steve grabbed her face in his blood stained and, truthfully, grimy hands. In one motion, his lips nearly jumped on hers, kicking off a feverish kiss. His lips moved against her stunned ones as if she were the water he was so deprived of for two days. As if she were the thing he was derived from for so long. As if she were the air he needed in order to live. 

  He could feel the gentle touch of her fingertips ever so lightly touching his forearms as her lips seemed to match his speed, her body coming to life after falling into the shock of the sudden kiss. Goosebumps marked the trail of her fingertips as they made their way up to his hands. Soon, the warmth of her hands rested over his, just sitting there. Almost as if she was using them to tell if this was real or just a dream. Steve was worried about the same thing but the coldness of the pouring rain hitting his back as the wind blew it under the cover of her porch told him it was all reality.

  Their lungs ached, Steve’s bruised ribs pulsed from his lungs beating against them, begging for air, not realising the lips he was attached to were (in fact) his air. Their chests swelled with warmth, both from their hearts becoming electrified with love and from the burning of their chests screaming from the lack of air. Lips became feverish in desperation as they both realised that, soon, they would have to pull away. Steve hated himself as he reluctantly pulled his lips back ever so slightly, just enough for both of them to suck in air, chests heaving - panting as if they had just ran a marathon. 

  Neither of them opened their eyes, feeling the laboured puffs of breath against their swollen lips as shockwaves of tingles shot through their bodies as if they were still kissing. “Nope,” Steve shook his head. “Not enough yet.” Y/N’s eyes fluttered open out of an act of confusion just in time for Steve’s lips to pounce back onto hers, this time her feet stumbling back from the force, his body crashing flush against hers. A squeak left her lips as she felt like she was going to fall backwards but his hands immediately left her cheeks, flying to her waist to pull her against him even more. 

  “Steve-” She pulled her mouth back slightly, words muffled by his lips still, but the risk of biting either of their tongues lowered, but he shushed her, ready to let his lungs explode if that meant he could keep kissing her. “Steve-” She tried again with a giggle, hands coming up to his chest to hold him back slightly. Finally opening their eyes, Y/N was stunned for a moment as she saw Steve. His lip now swollen, the cut on his lip re-opened and bleeding slightly. His eyes (or the eye that wasn’t swollen shut) nearly blown out as if he were high. Regaining her thoughts, she cocked her head to the side, eyes softening from the heated pools they were seconds ago. “Do you need a place to stay tonight?” She asked, having only caught enough information about his home life to know his parents were barely around and when they were, they barely met the standards of parents, let alone supportive and kind parents.

  Suddenly, and if Steve wasn’t already sure, he knew he had finally found the place in the world he was looking for. He found the purpose of his life. He found the thing he would live and breathe. He found the thing he would even die for. “Actually, yeah.” He said almost sheepishly, realising his house key was on the set of keys the Russians took from him and his parents were away (shockingly). He felt scared, worried that she would think he came here and professed false feelings just so that he could have a place to sleep for the night. 

  His worries were eased with that soft smile slipping upon her swollen lips as she stepped back, Steve’s hands reluctantly letting go of her waist. “Come on in. I’ll even let you shower and sleep in my bed.” She winked, a giggle gracing the dimly lit entryway as she backed up, Steve following immediately - almost like she was luring him into a trance like state just with her beauty. In that moment, he knew he would never get enough of her and he will live everyday trying to give his everything to her.

[henqtic]

remus lupin loves the snow . wc: 249.

·:*₊‧ masterlist . taglist form . request works . ·:*₊‧✩

— Remus Lupin loves the snow.

— He loves how it gives him a reason to simply stay inside all day with his favorite people instead of being in the blazing sun, or the pollen, or the confusing state of autumn where he couldn’t decide if he should wear a light sweater a coat.

— He could just stay by the fire or under the blankets, just you and him with a book.

— He loves how it looks on you.

—He loves how the flakes get caught up in your curls, latching onto your eyelashes, and turning your nose a tint of red. He loves when it’s a must that you wear one of his sweaters before you go outside.

— And he loves the way it fits your body, how you still hug him, long and tight anytime you’re not walking to share his body heat.

— He even loves when the marauders force him outside, and they build forts and throw balls of snow at each other like little kids.

— Competitive, and borderline dangerous kids who wanted to win the dorm all to themselves for two nights while the losers had to sleep in the common room.

— What he loves best of all, is when the sun is no longer present, and the moon takes over. He watches from out of the window as all of the snow falls down on the castle grounds. It’s like a winter wonderland his younger self dreamed of before receiving his letter.

— He falls asleep wherever, in the library, in your lap, cuddled up in his bed with you, free of the nagging since his best friends are down stairs, all three of them cramped on the most comfortable couch.

— His smile is sweet as he closes his eyes for the last time that day, happily awaiting the next.

@iluvweasleys @alanniys @flourishandblotts-inc @luvvvjada @gwlvr @natashxromanovfreads @hogwarts-102 @redheaded-hobbit @mollysolo @haroldpotterson  @nicofiliac @bhavanaa @yiamalfoy @darklingbrekksov @jemimah-b99 @bookfrog242 @i-love-scott-mccall​ @velvetcloxds @havenchy @pinkcloxds @impulse-anchor @hemogloban @silverose365 @moonlitmeeks @uwiuwi @missryerye @siriuslysmoking @nyx2021 @valluvsu @bunnyweasley23 @mendesxruel @pagesofhistory @eichenhouseproperty​

thank you for reading, likes and reblogs are appreciated  🌷 !

[band--psycho]

Young!Remus Lupin x Reader-The Valentines Day Dance

My second drabble for my Valentines Daty writing challenge!

This one was requested by my dear friend @xacatalepsyx with the prompt "Will you be my valentine?"

I hope you all enjoy this!💛

Remus was pacing the common room, his anxiety building with every minute  that passed him by. 

This was a horrible idea.

The worst. 

If he left now, he’d be out of the common room before Y/n arrived; he could save both of them the embarrassment. 

But then he’d have to deal with his friends; James, Sirius and Peter.

However dealing with those three seemed more appealing than staying here, waiting nervously for Y/n's arrival. 

He liked Y/n. As a lot more than just a friend. 

That’s why his friends persuaded him to ask her to the Valentines Day Dance. 

A dance  that was based on the Muggle tradition, Valentines Day. 

But the dance was tomorrow and all Remus could think about was that he was too late. 

Y/n was beautiful, inside and out, so it certainly wouldn’t surprise him if someone else had already asked her.

That’s why he didn’t want to ask her; the fear of admitting his feelings to her only to have them rejected turned his insides upside down. 

He didn’t want to ruin their friendship. 

Eventhough James, Sirius and Peter had assured him that wouldn’t happen, the thought still lingered in his mind. 

“Rem?” Y/n asked, knocking Remus out of his thoughts and making his movements come to a sudden halt. 

It was too late to run away now. 

“Are you okay?” 

Remus simply nodded, ignoring the questionable look that was filling Y/n's eyes, casting his gaze down at his feet. 

“Remus? If somethings wrong you can tell me,” she said, her voice soft but full of concern. 

“I-I…” Remus stuttered out, as his eyes met Y/ns. 

He took a deep breath in, trying desperately to get a hold of his nerves.

He could lie, or just make a run for it. But the longer he looked at Y/n, the more he just wanted to admit to her how he truly felt. 

“Will you be my valentine?” The question slipped so quickly from his mouth; at first he wasn’t even sure he’d said them, until he saw a look in Y/n's eyes.

Shit.

He’d messed up. 

This was going to be the end of their friendship. 

He mentally prepared himself for the words of rejection that were about to come, but those words never came. 

“I was wondering when you’d ask,” she softly chuckled, a gorgeous smile growing on her face.

“What?” 

The shock was evident in Remus’ voice. 

“Of course I’ll be your valentine, Rem,” she beamed; wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. Instinctively, Remus wrapped his arms around Y/n's waist, pulling her closer to him. 

He thought this was a dream.

That was until Y/n's lips were on his; she was kissing him and after a few seconds he was kissing her back. 

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” she whispered against his lips.

“So have I,” he breathed, before closing the distance between them once again.

Tagging:

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[vendettaparker]

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Hi, I have a smtu request please🥺 So what if the reader wants to have a movie night with Peter but doesn't really want to "watch it". Peter will get all excited, trying to figure out what movie they're going to watch. Not understanding her at all and suggesting a bunch of rom coms, being his cute self. She'd try hinting it to him but oh innocent Peter 🥴

Movie Night [P.P]

warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, possible typos

a/n: i kinda changed this a little but in my defense i forgot what my prompt was like halfway through

[scvrllet]

Oh my good you actually saw my request😶

Okay, I meant the 1 prompt list, from the fluff genre, thank you soooo much!❤️

i did, i was just on hiatus while you sent it in so that’s why it took a while for me to answer lol

however i did accidentally forget to save the request so could you please just send it in again. sorry about that

[lotsoffandomstoimagine]

Hiii

Could I please be added to the atla taglist

Thank youuuuuu<3❤️❤️

absolutely! apologies for the late response but thank you for reaching out ❤️❤️

[s1ater]

peculiar creature.

pairings. lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

about. lorenzo meets a stranger in the forbidden forest.

warnings. 🤔🤔

ricky rocks. this was long awaited.

“you’re a peculiar creature, aren’t you?”

you stare back into the large, mischievous brown eyes of a boy who was crouched down at then edge of the cove, examining you with troublesome intentions.

“what are you doing here?”

“swimming,” you said bluntly, pushing further into the deep, dark waters. he still watches you carefully, leaning back to his feet where his height is fully extended. “what are you doing here?”

he scoffs, his head tipping back as if finding your question ridiculous, "awfully dangerous for you to be all the way out here by yourself. haven't you ever been warned to stay out of the forbidden forest?"

you narrow your look on him at the way he deflects your question, his head tilting as he begins to wander further around the lagoon, circling you now as he waits for you to speak.

"what's your name?"

"lorenzo," he speaks fast, expecting that, as if he was wanting and waiting for you to ask it. "and you?"

"y/n."

“strange name.”

“and yours isn’t?”

a hollow laughs comes from deep in the back of his throat at your retort but he doesn’t find it as funny as he makes it seem, “you’re quick, aren’t you?”

“but you like that, don’t you?” your eyes narrowed in on him, pushing out further into the water so your further from him just in case he were to reach for you.

“and you know what i like how?” he mirrors your tapered expression, leaning against a tree placed close to the water. he was interested, really interested in what you were.

“i know boys exactly like you.”

“oh, you do?” his lips twitch upwards, finding your proceedings amusing.

“they come here a lot,” you tip your head, now studying him better than ever and the way he held himself. “with girls and booze and their loud mouths.”

you looked annoyed in thought of this making him chuckle under his breath, “you don’t like the company?”

“not usually.”

“why come here then?”

“no where else better to go.”

lorenzo makes a closer speculation of your face now, realizing he had never seen you before—which he found very strange, “what year are you?”

because lorenzo knew all the pretty faces at hogwarts.

“who said anything about me being in school?” you smiled as his face swooped into a confused expression, watching you sink further into the water till you were no longer in sight.

navigation.

@sophiekay20@aliyahsutherland @myalupinblack @ishwiya @padf00ts-l0ver @thehuntress09 @Anushi @afidiofobia @black-rose-29 @i-love-scott-mccall @greengarsstuff @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @dayanaralight @sunsetcurve-95 @youdontlikethatdoyoucupcake @hopelessbutterfly @jameslover @colorfulpaperthing @therewillbedancing @lilytoyourjames @eichenhouseproperty @living-hell-7 @calums-betch @moonlighy @ancientimes @1Dcumslut @gabeisinluv @iluvt4ylorswift @liltimmyst @falcvns @alexxavicry @simars3 @grxcisxhy-wp @esposadomd @rmeddar123 @lupinsluvbot

[ynscrazylife]

Marvel Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @summerlovingbaby @ineffablebean @procrastinatingsapphictrash @prettysbliss @caseyfish-blog @sarahp-stan @basiclesbianbitch @mycosmicparadise @xtraordinaryfangrl @peggycarter-steverogers @ima-gi--na-tion @hi-i-1 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @mads-weasley @tenaciousperfectionunknown @lilclownx @acertainredhead @lilymurphy03 @thanossexual @avengersz-biotch @mjaudrey @un-name-d @leyannrae @buckyandstevesslut @kuzomekou-blog @nylevea @suckerfornatstits @bentleywolf29 @bunnyweasley23 @ss @pianogirl21x2-blog @beth-gallagher22 @pleasantbearscissorstoad @marvelwomen-simp @wandaswifeyforlifey @that-napa-know-how @wisteriaandauroras @mirakeul @eternallyvenus @thatoneshykid13 @jeminiepabo @skagelynn @redsakura101 @todaywasafairytale07 @yelenarmnv @lazyloki-blog @nerd-88 @fairydxll @v0idl1nq @inluvwithfictionalwomen @scarthefangirl @marie45019 @strangegardentaco @froufrousnowman @raajali3 @freyathehuntress @youralphawolf72 @otomefan @uwiuwi @princessprudy @ofherscarlettwitchways @liltimmyst @yoalchumly  @hlvstia @lovelyy-moonlight @wandsmxmff @nutellani​ @idkeverythingistaken-blog1​

Peter Parker Taglist: @eichenhouseproperty​

If requests are open, sorry its another long ass anon prompt, i should call my self sushi at this point.

How about Yn, Stark try to help out on a mission but her dad says its to dangerous. The thing they are working on could kill someone, and yn wants to make sure everyone is safe. She can help, she knows she can. But Stark asks Peter Parker to get her out of there and then he is placed on "baby sitting duty" even though they are both in High school.

Cue yn trying to get back to help using any means necessary and peter trying his best to keep her away from something dangerous. He's trying to calm her down from the incoming panic attack, but she cant seem to breathe. Can't Peter see that her dad is probably going to die? She loves peter but she cannot lose her dad. Everything fades to black.

Yn wakes up in her room after passing out from The panic attack. The whole team is fine, they saved the day. Yn is crying from all of the stress of suddenly being awake after that event when peter cuddles her.

Basically all the angst, with all the fluff right after.

Thanks again 🍣🍣🍣

To be a Hero

Summary: Peter comforts you when your dad and the Avengers are in danger.

Authors Note: I’ve never had a panic attack before so I’ve tried to write it as accurate as I can. Please let me know if I’ve made any mistakes!

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me firstand b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

“You know, this feels like our first Avengers mission all over again,” Tony said in a dramatic voice as he fires his repulsers.

“If only it was because we were getting shawarma and not fighting another one of Thor’s murderous siblings,” Natasha deadpanned.

You bit back a small laugh as you entered the fight. Thor’s sister Hela had made her presence on Earth with an army of horrid creatures at her beckoning and the Avengers were there to do what they do best, defend and avenge. While the whole team, including your boyfriend Peter, had suited up at the tower, Tony had specifically told you not to get involved. You were only a few months in to being an Avenger and he thought it was too dangerous for you.

But, it took was one override code of FRIDAY’s system to get out of the tower.

“Hey! Technically, Loki was mind-controlled by Thanos,” Thor grumbled.

You smiled, sneaking around a city block before hitting one of the creatures square in the chest. You had a suit that you had designed with your dad along with some pretty cool energy powers.

Unfortunately, the creature didn’t go down with just one blast. You frowned as it growled and turned towards you, starting to advance. The team continued to chatter on comms, trying to keep on joking in order not to think about all the damage Hela was doing. It was nearly getting to be worse than the damage Loki once caused.

It wasn’t letting up, despite your continued blasts. It’d get hit in the face and shake it off (quite literally with a shake of its head). Your heartbeat went off the charts as you stumbled back, panic rising in your chest and your mouth going dry. Shit. This wasn’t going to be the end, was it? That stupid thing wasn’t letting up! It was getting far too close now and you were a second away from going on comms to admit defeat and call for help when suddenly, a blur of red flashed in front of you and then, strong arms wrapped around you.

You let out a shriek as your feet left the ground. “Shh, shh, it’s me,” the familiar voice of Peter soothed you and you calmed down instantly, your arms wrapping around him as he swung onto the rooftop on the nearest building. When you landed, Peter rubbed your back and held you close as he waited you to calm down and get your bearings.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your cheek pressed against his chest, a little embarrassed that he had to come and save the day.

“You know there’s no need to thank me,” Peter assured you in a warm voice, lightly chuckling. After a second, he pulled back and lifted up his mask for a second. “Babe, what are you doing here? Your dad told you stay in the tower.”

You pouted at him. “I want to help, Pete! The whole team’s here, I don’t want to be stuck in the tower,” you said, wanting him to understand.

And oh, he did. He had been unable to attend a lot of the missions when he first started out as an Avenger. He had been annoyed much like how you were now, but he had grown to see that it was for the best. “Y/N, you know we have to tell your dad,” he told you.

Your jaw dropped. “What? No!” You exclaimed, trying to stop Peter from telling KAREN to alert Tony. “What are you doing?!”

Peter finished speaking to KAREN and gave you a knowing look. “Tony would find out sooner and later and I’m not taking the fall,” he said.

You opened your mouth to protest even more, but was cut off by the sound of your dad’s voice. “Y/N Stark!” Tony said, his voice vibrating through both yours and Peter’s comms. “What were you thinking? You know you’re not trained enough to come on this type of a mission.”

“Dad—” you began, not even sure how you were going to defend this.

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” Tony snapped, catching you off guard. Damnit, he really was not happy. Peter squeezed your hand comfortingly. “I’m taking away your ability to override FRIDAY’s codes for now. Peter, please take Y/N back to the Tower. You can return to the fight after.”

You looked away, hot tears of frustration pooling in your eyes. Deep down, you knew that he was justified in this decision, but that didn’t take away your anger or your want to help. “You’re going to take me back to the tower, aren’t you?” You muttered. You didn’t mean to take this out on Peter, but this was one of the times where his loyalty to your dad was working against you.

“Hey,” Peter said gently, grasping your chin in the palm of his hand turning your head so your guys’ eyes met. He titled his head to the side, giving you a knowing but loving look that never failed to make your heart melt. “You know I have to take you back. But you can go to the lab, work on upgrades for your suit, and I promise the fight will be over in no time.” You nodded slowly, not quite believing him even though you wanted to.

Smiling at you, Peter wrapped his arms around you and lifted you into his arms. Usually, his words always did the trick to calm you down, and while he did help to prevent your tears from falling, you couldn’t shake the storm of anger and helplessness that was brewing inside your body.

You were almost like a rag doll in his arms, for once not terrified of Peter swinging you through the streets. Instead, you zoned out, unable to stop the scenarios of your dad and the Avengers getting gravely injured or killed from flashing through your head. You imagined your dad dying and the last thing you said being an argument. It wouldn’t stop and the more the images came, the more tense and frightened you became.

//

It was blatantly obvious for Peter that something was off, something was different. The only time he heard Tony speak like that was when the man had taken his suit away. Plus, when he carried you through the city with his webbing, you were usually clinging to him and letting out squeaks of exhilaration and nervousness. Now, you are still holding onto him tightly, but had gone silent.

He landed on the balcony outside your room, opening your door and leading you inside with his hand bracing your back. He could see clearly that you were deep inside your thoughts and it sent a ripple of pain through him. When the two of you got to the lab, Peter maneuvered himself to stand in front of you, his hands on your shoulders.

“Do you want me to get you water or something? I don’t want to leave you yet,” he said, biting his bottom lip in obvious worry for your state.

The switch from silence to hysteria stunned Peter for a second, but he snapped out of it when your panic didn’t cease. You struggled to control your breathing, body beginning to shake. A sob escaped you and you covered your mouth with your hands. “Y/N, take a deep breath for me,” he said firmly but kindly, mimicking one.

You shook your head so quickly and strongly that it made you dizzy. “I can’t—I can’t—” you wheezed, nearly choking on your sobs.

"Yes, you can. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you can," Peter said, but when he started to see that this wasn't working, he switched tactics. "Come on, let's sit you down."

He tried to maneuver you to the couch, but that backfired almost immediately. Your nails dug into his suit so forcefully that it was enough to make him pause and look back on you. The color had drained from your face and you looked absolutely terrified, a dazed over look in your eyes. "Y/N? Y/N!" He exclaimed, panicking.

You opened your mouth, and that gave Peter hope, but only a small noise, almost a whimper, left your lips before you were falling. What Peter didn't know was that when he tried to move you, he had unintentionally made the dizziness so much worse. That, combined with all five of your senses feeling like they were on fire, was too much for your body to handle at the moment.

Peter's eyes went wide as you dropped quite literally into his open arms. With one hand cradling your head, pressing it against his shoulder, he half-pulled, half-dragged you over to the couch. "Sorry," he couldn't help but apologize, seeing your feet drag.

He got you over to the couch and laid you down, brushing your hair out of your face. At the very least, you looked calmer now, but Peter would much rather you be conscious than unconscious. "FRIDAY, what do I-?" He started to ask, but the A.I was already ahead of him.

"While I cannot diagnose anyone, it appears that Y/N was displaying symptoms of a panic attack and lost consciousness as a result. The best course of action would be to monitor Y/N closely," FRIDAY said.

Peter was no fan of hearing the words panic and attack together, but it did soothe him to know that he didn't have to call 911 or bring you to the hospital. "Thanks," he murmured, watching you for a second. He let out a shaky breath, running his hand through your hair and his thumb over your forehead and cheeks like he knew you liked. A smile came to his face when he remembered how you'd blush normally.

He considered having FRIDAY tell Tony and the team that he wouldn't be going back to the fight, but that would just mean that he'd have to explain and he knew that everyone would be distracted and too worried about you (especially Tony). He sat back, trying to wait as patiently as he could, but couldn't shake the feeling of the need to do something to help or comfort you.

Eventually deciding that you'd be more comfortable on your bed than the touch, Peter scooped you up in his arms again. He tried to pretend that you were just sleeping in his arms, not unconscious, and that brought another soft smile to his lips. He tucked you into bed, not caring that he very much resembled a mother hen right now.

Once he deemed you all cozy, propped up by an absurd amount of pillows and wrapped in fuzzy blankets, Peter decided to change out of his suit. He made FRIDAY swear to alert him if anything about your condition changed, though. After switching to an Avengers sweater and grey sweatpants, Peter made a quick detour to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water and your favorite snack.

As he was walking back into your room, though, Peter saw you start to stir. He quickly put down the water and snack, hurrying to your side and taking a seat on your bed. He placed his hand over yours, smiling as he watched you wake. You looked around, a bit confused at first, before your gaze settled on your boyfriend.

"Peter?" You mumbled, starting to feel a bit nervous as your head was all foggy from fainting.

"Hi," he said sweetly. "You're okay, babe. We're in your room. You fainted. Take a deep breath with me, okay?"

You managed to do that. Peter drew back the covers and slid into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you as he held you.

"You-you shouldn't be here. My dad-" you began to say.

"-Will be fine. So will the team. I'm right where I need to be, darling," Peter said, keeping his voice calm, gentle, and smooth.

You let out a small puff of air, pausing before speaking again. "He's so mad at me. I-I wanted to help. I'm supposed to be a hero, but I'm not even good enough to stop some creature on my own," you whimpered. As your tears started to come, Peter didn't try to stop them. He knew you needed to let it all out.

Rubbing your arm soothingly. Peter waited to speak. "It was a misunderstanding, Y/N, and you are a good hero-" he began.

"You have to say that, you're my boyfriend," you pouted.

Peter chuckled lightly. "It's true. You are the kindest hero I've ever seen. Some missions just require a little more training and that's okay, it doesn't make you any less of a hero," he said.

You nodded, leaning your head back against his chest. Peter happily continued to rub your arm and hold you.

"I'm still worried about my dad and the team," you whispered.

"I know," Peter whispered back, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "But if something happened, we'd have heard right now, so try to rest your head, m'kay?"

You nodded again, even if you weren't quite certain that you'd be able to do that. Peter grabbed the water and the snack, passing it to you. That instantly made you smile and you thanked him before practically devouring it. Peter put the glass back on the table when you were done.

The two of you sat there for a while, both happy and content to enjoy each other's presence. After a bit, Peter glanced down and grinned when he saw you asleep. This was like heaven to him, with how cute you were and how he was able to hold and cuddle you.

He ended up losing track of time but soon enough. FRIDAY was quietly alerting him that the team had returned, unharmed.

"Can you tell Tony to come up to Y/N's room?" Peter asked.

A couple minutes later, the man was walking in, still in his suit but without his helmet. "I know you're probably still mad-" he began, running a hand through his hair, only to be cut off by Peter's "shh". He glanced up, not expecting to see the sight he saw. He walked over. "What's going on?"

"Y/N's asleep. Had a panic attack and fainted earlier. Y/N was really scared that something would happen to you and the team," Peter explained.

Tony softened and with a small sigh, sat down. He looked at his sleeping teen, smiling warmly. "Alright. We can talk later. Take good care of my kid, alright Parker?" He whispered, slowly rising from the bed.

"You got it," Peter promised. He'd always take good care of you.

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[pinkykitten]

Hiiii

Can I please be tagged in all Aang (ATLA), HP, Marvel, It Chapter 1, Stranger Things, TMR, TUA one shots <3 ❤️

sure thing! sorry for the late response but i gotchu 😉

[pappydaddy]

sorry about the shirt (f.w.)

a/n: now that i named this fic this, now i have an idea for another fic with this as a prompt.... ugh my mind, curse my cognition! also, i have deleted this and reformatted this like six times and the title is still not saving as a god-damn title anymore. ugh. tumblr (pls don't shadowban me again)

tv show/movie: harry potter | pairing: fred weasley x fem!hufflepuff!reader

requested by the lovely @readingfan  (hope you enjoy it💛!) | my little pea-sized, fred-lane brain made this a fred x reader without me realizing it until seconds before posting this

synopsis: fred and george getting a summer job in a coffee shop where a pretty girl frequents. said pretty girl seems to have fred in a trance. what could possibly go wrong? well, fred knows what could now that an innocent shirt has been ruined.

taglist: @frederickandgeorge-weasley | @lilypad-55449 | @popeheywardssecretgf | @eichenhouseproperty | @slytherinambitious | @onyourgoddamnleft *line through you user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: reader is described to wear sundresses | mentioned of negative thoughts about oneself (reader has negative thoughts about herself) | fred and george being teens (aged to be 18, idc if it's not canonically plausible) working in retail).

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- not my gif -

GIF by fgweasley

Summer was supposed to be a time of freedom, long nights, and recklessness and there was nobody else who knew this more than Fred and George. Unfortunately for them, it appears that their summer was going to be nothing but seeing the inside of that damn coffee shop. Fred and George rarely ever regretted a prank, but right now, they were starting to think that perhaps slipping Malfoy that candy that made his skin turn Gryffindor red and his hair a golden snitch gold wasn’t worth this. It also taught them that when Malfoy said his father would hear about this, he actually means it - sometimes.  

  However, no matter how funny the prank was and how much it was worth all the time they spent planning and agonizing to create the final product, it was not worth this. Not worth the wrinkled fingers that lost all feeling after wiping down every single table and counter in the cafe. Not worth the skin of the heat from the coffee machines. Not worth the horrible experience of dealing with customers. Not to mention uncomfortable uniforms. Forced to wear black jeans, black dress shirts, and a ratty old apron ten other people wore before them. 

  While George grumbled everyday, hoping and wishing for their return to Hogwarts (something nobody expected to hear), Fred’s summer was not a complete waste. He did not realize this when they applied for their job, but this coffee shop tucked into a hidden alleyway of Diagon Alley was often frequented by a rather pretty girl. In her flowing sundresses, her hair cascading down over her shoulders in soft waves. When he first saw her his knees nearly gave out. Then when she turned to leave (lemonade in hand - it was a hot day) and he caught a glimpse of the white ribbon tying her hair into a half-up, half-down style, George had to catch him because his knees did give out. She looked vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t exactly place her. 

  “She’s in our year, a Hufflepuff,” Hermione had told him one day when she and Ron had visited them. They were out gathering ideas for a present for Harry. “She’s quiet, likes to stick to her routine but doesn’t shy away from new opportunities. She’s in my book club and study club. She has such a beautiful voice but she thinks it's horrible - that’s why she is so quiet.” She revealed after Fred pressed her for more information. 

  Unfortunately for Fred, he has yet to hear that beautiful voice since he never seems to be on the cash when she comes in or someone beats him to it - usually George as a form of twisted amusement. “Hermione was right. She does have a beautiful voice.” George blinked after the first time he took her order. It was later discovered that the reason she hates her voice was because some Slytherins had poked fun at her in First Year, leaving her with an ugly taste in her mouth and horrible self-confidence. Fred could wring their necks, every last one of them. 

  Anytime Fred had any downtime, he found himself thinking of her. He knew nothing of her but, yet, she consumed every thought and every dream of his. Such as today. It was a horribly humid and dreadful day. Every door to the coffee shop was open, a cooling spell was placed on the shop but it was barely fighting against the stickiness, and the owner even found some muggle fans and set them up. It was slow, barely anyone wanted to leave their houses and if they did, they surely couldn’t even think about sipping on a coffee - even one of their iced ones since the ice would probably melt before they even took their first sip. 

  But here was Fred, elbows digging into the counter as he hogged one of the fans. His back was facing the entrance as he moved with the fan which was oscillating. George was in the back, doing work back there but Fred was sure he was just sitting in front of that fan. “Bloody hell.” He groaned, pinching his shirt and pulling it away from him. This was torture. 

  “Excuse me,” A soft, hesitant voice called to him over the rattling of the fan, startling him. Turning around, his eyes widened when she saw who stood at the counter. Hair pulled up into a high ponytail, bangs hanging around her face from where the shorter strands fell out of the ponytail. Even looking right at her, he saw the ribbon she usually wore in her hair. Today’s was a pretty yellow shade, matching the sundress she wore. It was a pale yellow, nothing that jumped right out at you. “Could I get a large lemonade?” She asked him, blinking sweetly as she rolled up to the balls of her white converse. That voice. He was blown away. He was never going to be the same after hearing that beautiful sound. How could he go on with his life knowing that that voice exists and he isn’t hearing it every second of everyday.  

  “Yes, of course,” He nodded, rushing to the counter, nearly tripping over himself. “George, can you make a large lemonade?” He yelled out back as he typed away on the till. Instantly, George emerged, a large lemonade in hand. 

  “Here ya go, Y/N. I knew you would be wanting one of these today. Made it once I heard your voice.” He winked at her and Fred contemplated murdering him right there. He actually considered it when she giggled at his twin, but the sound made him stop. Everybody said her voice was the most beautiful sound, which he could agree with all his heart on now that he heard it, but her giggle. Just thinking about making her laugh made him want to lay on his stomach on his bed and kick his feet like Ginny does whenever Harry says hi to her. 

  “Thank you, George,” She smiled thankfully, holding out her hand. Almost as if under a spell, Fred reached his hand out, palm facing up. With her sweet smile turning to Fred, she dropped a handful of sickles in his palm. Her fingers brushed against the palm of his hand, sending shivers and sparks running through his nerves. “That’s enough for the lemonade and ten sickles for you guys to split for a tip. Thank you, Fred.” 

  The shock sent to Fred’s system was immense when she said his name. She knew his name. She knew his name. He opened and closed his mouth as she turned on her heel, her skirt flaring up adorably, her ponytail and ribbon flaring up as well and off she went into the dreadful heat, making Fred’s day so much better. 

____

  It was a rush. Possibly the biggest rush Fred and George have ever experienced at the shop. The queue was running out of the door. Perhaps everyone just now realized that summer was coming to a close and just now decided to emerge from their lazy, hazy, summer daze to enjoy the days. This, of course, made Fred miserable. 

  Instead of enjoying their time, patrons were making their lives a living hell. And for what? Amusement? What was the reason he had to get yelled at by a man because his coffee was too hot to drink? He questioned if it was possible that these people got some sort of happiness from throwing adult hissyfits and yelling at underpaid, overworked employees. Did they have some sort of odd kink? Did it fill a missing void? Whatever it was, Fred quite frankly did not want to be part of it.  

  However, when he saw that shining face in the queue, her nose buried in her book as she read so intently. She wore her hair down aside from two locks of hair tied back into a braid, secured by a light blue ribbon today. When he saw her, he froze for a moment. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way the sun burned through the dirty windows (that seemed to have fingerprint smudged permanently tattooed on it) and hit her like a golden spotlight. The way her finger absentmindedly stroked the cover of her book as she read. 

  “Excuse me,” The customer in front of him barked. He jolted back to reality. Frankly, he already was in reality since Y/N was completely gorgeous. There was no fantasy about that. She was perfect. The fantasy was that she had feelings for him or at least thought he was cute. “Did you get my order?” The man, a short, plump man with an angry red nose despite the beautiful summer day they were having, grumbled. 

  “One medium coffee. Would you like that iced or with anything in it?” Fred asked the normal questions, bracing himself for the normal response he usually received from people with certain mannerisms. 

  The man’s nose seemed to get even more red. “Of course I don’t. If I wanted it another way, I would have ordered it another way. What do I look like? An idiot? Rowena, you kids these days, needing to have things iced and sweetened. Whatever happened to the good British taste? Black coffee. That is what I want-”

  “That will be 3 sickles, Sir.” Fred read the total off, noticing how Y/N glanced up, rolling onto her tiptoes to take note of what was taking so long. He wanted to get this nasty old man out of his line so that she could get on with her day. Her day shouldn’t be wasted in this shop waiting in line. 

  “Here, keep the change.” The man basically tossed the sickles at Fred. Four sickles. 

  “Some change,” Fred whispered under his breath, putting three sickles in the till and dropping one in the communal tip jar. That naked a total of five sickles in tips. “Have a nice day, sir,” Fred faked a smile as the man waddled off to the pick-up area, barking at George to hurry up. “I can help whoever is next.” “Two people until her.” Fred thought. 

  “Hi, could we get two lemonades? Mediums please,” The teen girl giggled, eyes staring up at Fred sweetly. Fred nodded, writing the order down and sliding it along the counter. Harrison, the manager, grabbed it to start making it. “So, we’ll be seeing you at Hogwarts in a couple of weeks, right, George?” She asked with a bat of her eyelashes, still getting his name wrong despite his name tag being basically eye level with her. He could see Y/N look up from her book, snickering slightly behind her book. 

  “I’m actually Fred. And yes. That will be seven sickles today.” Fred read off their total, holding his hand out for their money. 

  “Oh, sorry. You both are so handsome, it’s hard to tell you apart.” She flirted with a wink, dropping exactly seven sickles in his hand. 

  “Have a nice day,” He nodded to them as they wandered off with linked arms to bother George. “Next please!” He just needed to take care of this one customer and then she would be at his cash. Evidently, she noticed this as she was tucking her book into her bag and pulling out her coin wallet. He watched her intently, somehow managing to take the customer’s order and recite the amount of money he needed. 

  He watched as she counted the sickles she had pulled out before pulling out two more coins before doing some math in her head. He could tell since her eyes flicked around and she used her free hand to wiggle her fingers as if counting on them. “Have a nice day.” He wasn’t even sure what that customer ordered, but he must have done it right. 

  And up stepped the person he was waiting for. Y/N stepped up with a bounce, smiling brightly at him. He wanted to faint right there. There she was, standing there and it overwhelmed him so much that his nervous system was going haywire on him. “Hi, Freddie!” She seemed to have gotten much more comfortable. She was more bubbly and talkative with him and his brother. She even started to call them by nicknames. It warmed Fred’s heart to the point it might burst. 

  “Hi, Y/N, what can I get for you today?” He asked, trying to calm his racing heart and malfunctioning nervous system. He was in fight-or-flight with the secret third option: faint. 

  “Just a large iced coffee. I am trying to finish off the last book on my book club’s summer reading list and I decided I might as well change up the scenery.” She explained, her voice much more even and comfortable. Not the same reluctant, soft voice she had when she first talked to him. And if he thought that voice was beautiful, then this voice was perfect. Alluring. Charming. Cute. Marvelous. Dazzling. Delicate. Stunning. Splendid. Gorgeous. Lovely. Any synonym there was for beautiful because this voice was so much better. 

  Before he could even tell her the total, she handed him the sickles she had counted out prior to the interaction. She always did it. “Three sickles for the iced coffee and how many for the tip?” He asked, knowing exactly how she worked things. 

  “Fifteen. Five for everyone who worked today,” She smiled as she rolled up to the balls of her feet - something he found that she did often. The line was gone aside from her and part of Fred wished it would stay away so she could stand there talking to him, but unfortunately someone walked in. “I’ll leave you to it, Fred.” She smiled at him. It appeared sad and part of him hoped that she felt upset about having to part from him. 

  He watched her walk over to George who held her coffee out to her. Sharing pleasantries, she headed off to one of the many tables. Taking her normal table by the window. “Alright boys. I am heading out, I’ll be back in two hours to close it down.” Harrison told them. That was most likely the last rush of the day. People didn’t tend to frequent the coffee shop near close. They gave him nods as he left. 

  Thirty minutes and they hadn’t stopped. Anytime they saw a lull coming, once they served one customer, two more would come. Just as Fred turned his back, taking a deep breath as the attack stopped, he heard the approaching footsteps of someone. He wanted to roll his eyes and outwardly show the resentment he had felt, but he didn’t feel the same hostility he had felt with the last few customers. Part of him should have known why before he turned around, but sometimes he isn’t always on the ball. 

  As he turned around, he was pleasantly shocked to see Y/N standing there at the counter again, her head down as she inspected the wet patch on her blue sundress. After a few seconds of silence, she looked up, hand hovering over the patch on the center of her torso. “Hey, Fred, again,” She smiled, a bit awkwardly as she didn’t usually come up after she got her order unless it was to say bye to the boys (something rather new after she got comfortable with them). “Do you think I could get a napkin? That last customer who left kind of knocked into me a bit and I got the last bit of iced coffee on me-” She cut herself off as Fred reacted without thinking, grabbing the back of his brother’s black shirt and ripping it off of him.

  “Here you go, Y/N.” He handed it to her. Shocked, she took it from him. George just stood there, blinking at his brother as if he had gone completely mad. Fred considered this a sign that perhaps, working nearly every single day of the summer had made him cracked in the head. Slowly, looking at the face Y/N was making, he came back into his body. It was as if seeing Y/N in need made him go into autopilot, doing whatever he needed to to resolve the issue Y/N was facing. 

  “Fred, what in Godric's name?” George questioned, still a bit shocked that his brother completely ripped the back of his shirt off, leaving just his sleeves and the front. It was silent as the three of them all looked at each other, trying to make sense of the situation. Fred couldn’t even remember his brain telling him to do that, let alone any thought of ripping his brother’s shirt. 

  The silence was broken by the sweet giggles of Y/N. Fred nearly gave himself whiplash turning his head to look at her. There she stood, on the other side of the counter, one hand holding the tattered shreds of George’s shirt, the other one hovering over her mouth as her giggled turned into laughter, eyes crinkling closed. “Oh my Helga,” She pressed her lips together, her purely magnetic eyes opening and meeting Fred’s with a zing being sent through Fred’s body like electricity (which this summer, he discovered was pretty dangerous). “I needed that, Freddie. That guy who bumped my arm as a complete arse-” Fred blinked, that might have been the most foul he had ever heard her talk, though Hermione had told him she had said much worse about some of the guys in their year. “You know exactly what to do to make people laugh, it’s an amazing gift,” She nodded at him, a large smile hanging off her lips. “Thank you, see you at Hogwarts if I am not in next week.” She whispered as she rolled onto the balls of her feet. 

  Before Fred could react, she was pressing her lips against his cheek. Her sweet looking lips felt even sweeter against the now burning flesh of his freckled cheeks. He knew that now he felt her lips, he wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about how they would feel against his own lips, but right now his brain was empty. He couldn’t function as she pulled away, heels crashing to the ground. A bashful smile stayed on her lips as she waved to the pair of them, Fred so far gone he barely even registered the fact that her lips were no longer touching him - probably due to the fact that the tingling he felt was still there.    When he finally came back into his body again, Y/N and her bashfulness had left with her book tucked under her arm for almost five minutes. Blinking around, Fred saw the basically empty shop, the only person lingering being someone who had been there for two hours now. Looking to his side, he felt George’s “what the hell” look before he saw it. Winching, nervous about his brother’s wrath. “Sorry about the shirt, George.”

[henqtic]

magic it made . george weasley x reader . wc: 484.

authors note: unedited . a little summary is that the reader and george have moved into a flat in a muggle neighborhood and attempt to make the bed without magic.

·:*₊‧ masterlist . taglist form . request works . ·:*₊‧✩

“this is so hard,” george huffed as he flopped down on the bed — the fitted sheet snapping from the two corners it had finally stuck to and curled over his face.

you’d finally signed the lease to the flat this morning. it was in a nice muggle town, the ones that you see on the television with trimmed bushes and picketed fences.

you needed a break from the wizarding world after everything had happened. losing life long friends, family members, and having your lives be at risk themselves, it was all too much.

he especially, being around his childhood home knowing that some of the most significant people a part of it could have been missing out of the frame.

it had been a month or two since you’d come to the consensus to finally move in together, and three hours since the weasleys and your friends left after helping you move everything in.

the nap you’d taken on the floor in a pile of blankets and pillows had been more unpleasant than being exhausted — so you decided to get up and get the sheets on your actual bed.

which proved to be harder than you thought without magic.

george sighed, pushing the sheet off of his body and sitting up. his legs still touched the floor even with the platform of your bed.

“can’t we just magic it made? that was the first thing mum taught me and siblings because it would never look just the right way if we did it by hand,” he took you by the hips and placed you right in between his legs.

“but honey, we’re living in a muggle neighborhood for a reason — these people do muggle things all the time and i think the least we can do is learn how to make a bed properly,” you reasoned with a slight whine in your voice.

it was sheltering to be a part of a pureblood family, yes. but you had come to terms with that and worked to integrate different ideas into your lives. the last thing you were gonna allow was you and the love of your life to be a grown man and woman who couldn’t make a bed.

“it would be so much easier though love, and then we’d be able to actually use our new — king sized bed, without our families being within earshot. doesn’t that sound good?” he hummed, hooded eyes wandering down your figure like a fox.

he always knew how to steer a conversation.

“i thought you were tired. remember?”

you placed your hands around his neck, giving him an inquisitive look as he found something to answer with.

“i can preserve my energy for. . . better things.”

you hummed long in thought before he interrupted.

“it’ll just be this once, we can ring hermione tomorrow and ask her to teach us.”

“promise?”

“cross my heart and hope to die.”

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[strawberrysodaslut]

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@sofiacblair

idk if you can do this but can you do a poly!marauders x gn!reader, and the boys’ reactions when yn wears a binder one day.

i'm not trans nor have i ever worn a binder, so i hope this is an accurate portrayal!! feel free to correct me on anything i've messed up.

Getting a binder was a long time coming. After months of research, hesitations and all the time spent waiting, going to the store and getting one, you never thought wearing something to bind would make you feel so damn free. Finally, understanding what people meant when you heard about gender euphoria.

You hadn’t told the boys about your latest purchase. In fact, you hadn’t brought up the concept to them. Not that they hadn’t been supportive of you, they really were. In a world of magic, pronouns were something that hardly needed grasping, and they would correct anyone who messed up politely, sending you a soft smile as they did. But- you couldn’t help but be anxious about them finding out. What if this was too much? What if they get freaked out?

So, you kept your binder to yourself.

At first, you didn’t think they had noticed. You wore looser clothes or sports bras earlier, so it probably wasn’t as big of a difference to others. It wasn’t until dinner that night where you noticed Sirius staring at you from across the table.

“What?” You said, chomping down on a bread roll to hide the way self conciousness ebbed in your chest.

Sirius squinted his eyes, looking like James when he tries to read without his glasses. “You look different.” He says. “Did you do something to your face?”

James laughs from next to you. “Did they do something to their face? What kind of question is that, Padfoot?”

“Well, I don’t know!” Sirius exclaims, “Admit it though Prongs, something about them is different!”

You find it hard to not instinctively crawl under the table to hide. So you curl in on yourself, pressing your chin to your chest to calm the heat across your cheeks. As if he can sense your anxiety, Remus places his hand on your shoulder.

“Guys stop.” He says, light concern lacing his voice, but he’s clearly trying to hide it. “Obviously they’re just relaxed now that the holidays are coming, isn’t that right?” He says to you, giving you a slight smirk and raise of his eyebrows that only happen during his most devious pranks. ‘go with this’, he silently urges you.

You smile, nodding your head. “Yeah, I’m glad classes are almost over.”

“Well,” Sirius starts, “We should have holidays more often then. Haven’t seen you this confident in- I don’t even know.”

“I’ll start the petition!” James pipes.

You smile, glad to be supported by your boys, but still relieved that your secret remains yours.

Little did you know later that night, the boys had a plan to throw a movie night with you in the common room. So at nighttime, when you had changed out of your binder so you wouldn’t sleep in it, James surprised you by barging into your room.

“Oi! It’s movie time- oh sorry.” James said, cutting himself off to cover his eyes as you put on your sweatshirt.

Remus followed him, quickly closing his eyes and turning around when he saw you, “Jeez Prongs! They’re changing!” He scolded.

“I know! That’s why I’m…” He trails off, gesturing to the hand that’s covering his eye- going completely unnoticed to Remus with his eyes shut tight.

You shake your head, a soft giggle escaping from your lips. God, they’re dramatic. “It’s okay guys, don’t stress.” You throw your sweatshirt over your head. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

James makes a soft grunt, before removing the hand from his eyes and taking you in. “Well, sorry again.” He says. His eyes slowly drift behind you to something on your bed, and tilts his head. “Hey what’s that?”

You almost jump, turning behind you to see your binder laid out on your bed, ready to be put away. You shudder a deep breath before trying your best to gesture nonchalantly. “It’s uh-” It’s hard not to cringe at how your voice trembles. Okay, nonchalant isn’t working. So you instead opt to be candid. “It’s my binder.”

James looks between you and the binder, his brows furrowed. “Binder…?” He questions before his eyes go wide. He paces towards you in a frenzy. “You’re not binding your magic, are you? Listen, you shoul-”

A giggle almost slips out again as you interrupt him before he explodes, “No Prongs! It’s for my chest. It binds my chest.”

Despite the reassurance that no, you were not binding your magic, James doesn’t look any less confused. If anything, he looked even more. “Why would you want to bind your chest?” He asks, his brows furrowing as he makes his way from you to the binder.

Candid, you remind yourself. You’re being candid. “So it would be flatter.” You say.

A beat passes before James replies, still looking down at the material.

“Oh.” “Oh?” You ask. Your heart thumping in your chest with anticipation.

He makes a small squeak as he turns back to you, “I-I just didn’t realise that was something you worried about.” He says, his voice sympathetic but laced with concern. “It’s not…” He pauses, “Is this where we’re supposed to say something to make you feel better? Because you don’t have to do that for other people you know...”

“No, I get that.” You say, a small smile making its way to your face. “This isn’t for other people, it’s for me. I’m more comfortable with myself when I wear it.” You gesture to the binder, as if it hasn’t been the subject of the past couple of minutes.

With that, James’ whole demeanour changes. The tension in his body disappears as he smiles wide. “Well then, we’re thrilled for you. Aren’t we moony?” He says, nudging Remus who has just been staring at you since the conversation started.

As if he has just awoken from a nap, Remus startles to attention. “Oh- uh yes! I’m supportive of whatever you choose as long as you're happy.” Remus replies, smiling at you before chuckling “Sorry it’s just- I knew that’s what was different.”

“You staring at their chest are you?” James teases Remus. “Perv.”

“No! I-” He exclaims, a red tint painting his face.

You smile at him, about to reassure the boy, when a crashing sound comes from downstairs before a yell echoes through the hallway. Remus mutters a small ‘fuck’s sake’ as the cause of the noise comes bounding towards your room.

“Sorry gentlemen- gender neutral, of course. The popcorn has burned.” Sirius announces before he’s entered the room, reeking of burnt popcorn with a few pieces lodged in his hair. Sharing James’ nosiness, his eyes quickly fixate on your binder. “Hey, what’s that?”

James scoffs before turning to Sirius. “It’s a binder, Padfoot, and they’re very happy.” He says with pride, his chin lifting. “Catch up.”

Remus’ attention, however, has drifted away from the binder and he asks the real important question, “How the hell do you burn magic popcorn?”

Sirius jumps to the defensive, “Hey! I’m the one who told you not to put me in charge of food!” He says, throwing his hands up. “I’m obviously more suited to the pillow gathering region.”

With a dictionary worth of swear words, Remus stomps down the hall to make some unburnt popcorn. James quickly following behind, arguing why him being the pillow gatherer was the best choice.

With Sirius and you alone, he turns to you. “Hey, it’s cool that you have that now. Reg used to use one a while ago.” He says, before grabbing your hand, “Now, let’s watch some movies on a subpar pillow arrangement.”

You laugh as you both go to follow the other two boys. “Sounds good.” You say, feeling more secure with them than ever. Your binder sitting blissfully on your bed, ready to be used again tomorrow.

poly marauders masterlist

[band--psycho]

Steve Harrington x Reader - An Ugly Knitted Sweater

My first story for my Christmas Writing Challenge!

And who better to begin it with than the wonderful Steve Harrington!

I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Prompt - Please don't make me wear this, I look ridiculous

“Baby, you know I love you right?” Steve began; from behind the bathroom door, “And you love me?”

“Of course,” Y/n replied simply, leaning against the wall opposite, waiting curiously to see what Steve’s Christmas jumper looked like. 

“Then please don’t make me wear this,” he continued, opening the door to reveal him wearing the latest Christmas jumper Y/ns nana, Rose, had created

“I look ridiculous,”

It was a tradition in Y/n's family to wear Christmas jumpers all throughout the festive period; some were purchased from the shop and some were made by Y/ns nana. 

Most of the ones her nana made though, were not the most stylish type of Christmas jumpers around; but this tradition had been going since Y/n was a very young child so she was used to not wearing the trendiest of jumpers, as were the majority of the family.

But the jumper that her nana had made for Steve was certainly one of the most…creative jumpers she’d made in a while.  

The top half of the jumper was a bright green while the other half was ruby red; very in with the festive period. But, the sleeves of this jumper were covered in blue and white  tinsel, while tiny gold baubles descended down the center of his jumper in the shape of a Christmas tree. 

“But baby, it’s so stylish,” Y/n sarcastically stated, trying her hardest to hold back a laugh. 

“Haha, very funny,” Steve replied dryly, rolling his eyes, as he pulled Y/n into a tight hug. 

Did he want to wear the jumper? No. 

Was he going to wear the jumper regardless? Yes, of course he was. 

Because it was Y/n's family tradition; and her nana had gone to the trouble of making him a jumper to fit in with their tradition, so there was no way he was taking it off.

“We better get going,” Y/n mumbled against his chest, before standing on the tips of her toes to place a soft kiss on Steve’s cheek. 

~~~~~

The evening had been absolutely amazing. 

Y/n had had boyfriends spend time with her family before but Steve was certainly the one that all of her family got on with the best. Steve and nana Rose had practically been inseparable since they arrived. 

And it was heartwarmingly adorable, to see two of the people she was closest to, getting on so well just made Y/n smile. 

“I think this one’s a keeper,” Nana Rose whispered in Y/n's ear, patting her hand sweetly as she glanced over at Steve, wbu was playing a quiz game with Y/n's dad. Steve was losing. 

“He most certainly is,” Y/n whispered back.

“And he’s still wearing the jumper,” nana Rose beamed, the prideful smile that grew on her lips whilst she said those words just made Y/ns smile grow. 

She loved how happy her nana was. 

And it was all because Steve was wearing her jumper. 

~~~~~

“Having a good evening, princess?” Steve asked, wrapping an arm around the top of her shoulders as she sat down next to him on the sofa. 

“It’s been amazing,” Y/n breathed, leaning into Steve’s side, “the best Christmas Eve ever,”

She wasn’t lying. 

This was by far the best Christmas Eve she’d ever experienced; and she just hoped that she would continue to have even more amazing Christmas Eves with him. 

“By the way, you can take the jumper off now, if you want to Y/n added, dusting some of the loose tinsel that had fallen onto her arm, off of her. 

“Nope,” Steve answered simply, looking appalled at the idea of taking the jumper off.

His answer shocked Y/n, and the confusion in her eyes was evident enough of that. 

“I’m not taking this jumper off for the rest of the evening," he whispered placing a soft kiss on the side of her head.

Tagging:

@instabull @xacatalepsyx @simonsbluee @yn-ymn-yln @pappydaddy @rafecameronswhore @elliewigginton20 @eichenhouseproperty @drabby-abby @poisxnedmind @scarletnighttt @xxemberlights @akshi8278 @mosthatedrenyjia @ofherscarlettwitchways @book-dragon03 @bookworm1767 @babygirl8900 @ddejavvu @munsinner

[ptergwen]

Idk why but I always thought a cute concept would be like: Peter and the reader are just making out like usual but the lose track of time and realize that they’ve just been kissing eachother for hours and just joke about it. Idk but I always thought that was a cute concept lol

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w/c: 459

warnings: swearing and making out

a/n: sorry for the wait i needed a lil break but i’m back and working on all ur requests so please be patient! this was adorable i hope you enjoy

you hover over peter on his bed, your lips on his. you’re wearing a new lip gloss today, and he’d wanted a taste of it. the kiss naturally lead to a make out session. your gloss is now smeared all over peter’s lips as they mold perfectly with yours. his hands slide under your shirt, warm palms resting on the skin of your upper back. you hum contentedly.

you place your hands on peter’s chest, leaning into him further to deepen the kiss. peter rubs your back gently and smiles against your lips.

“i love kissing you.”

he talks between kisses.

“i could kiss you all day.”

you giggle in response. you cup peter’s jaw, guiding his lips to yours. peter parts his lips and lets your tongue enter his mouth. your tongues move slowly together, keeping the kiss soft. your lips are practically attached at this point.

“dinner, you two!”

you hardly hear aunt may over the sounds of your kissing.

“come on, before it gets cold! you know that doesn’t take long with my cooking!”

you pull back first.

“did she say dinner?”

“yeah, but we must’ve heard wrong. it can’t be dinner time already.”

you check your phone for the time and gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth. peter sits up, brows furrowed.

“oh my god, peter! we actually have been kissing all day!”

“wait, what?”

he realizes you’re in darkness, crickets chirping outside his window.

“holy shit. the sun was still out when you got here.”

“that was… hours ago.”

peter wipes his lips with the back of his hand. his eyes are blown wide.

“have we really been making out that long? without any breaks? that’s a new record for us.”

“damn. gonna be hard to break it.”

“i’m up for the challenge.”

peter puckers his lips. you put a hand out to stop him, nose crinkling as you grin.

“after dinner maybe. my lips are sore.”

“want me to kiss them better?”

“ugh, peter.”

“alright, alright. hint taken.”

peter kisses the tips of your fingers.

“now that you mention it, my lips kinda hurt, too. i think you might’ve bit them by accident.”

“it wasn’t an accident. i thought it was hot.”

“a little more gentle next time, babe.”

“next time? so you liked it?”

“i like everything you do.”

you nudge peter’s cheek with your nose, nails lightly scratching at his chest. he fixes your shirt and gives your hips a squeeze.

“c’mon, may’s waiting for us.”

the two of you climb off the bed and make your way to the kitchen, where three places are set for dinner. may perks up when you enter the room.

“there you two are, you’ve been in there all day. what’re you up to?”

tags: @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @jenoslov @kayasholland @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy

[m4nd0l0r]

Angelic Lips.

Description: A fixation bleeds through him: he catches himself always glancing by.

Ship: Five Hargreeves x GN! Reader

Word Count: 860+ (this is more of a drabble tbh-)

Author’s Note: writer’s block is a bitch and i fought it off with horniness so ig this is a lime (or lemon/smut?? genuinely idk)— i mean it deals with mouths, making out and what i thought oral fixation meant before taking a google search at 1am and becoming so aghast (basically i thought it was a mouth fetish or smth rather than a keen liking to biting and sucking cos of childhood shenanigans—) so it seems accurate, this also is just pure filth n’ brain rot of five, with that said i hope you enjoy reading and pls interact for a little boosting!! <33 (i’ll be posting more five content soon once i get a little more inspo/motivation!!!)

(Five’s body is aged up, and his consciousness ranges from 25 to 50 in my works for him from now on— However you decided which age you want for your experience/comfort!!)

Five Taglist: @ells-graveyard @noahspector @aelinismyqueen @sunweee @fivelegance @ne0boss @twauna00 @placidpluto @eichenhouseproperty @heartsforsuyin @ghostlywavelengths @ghostlycherryblossomwonderland @seconds-not-decades @coolcatlover4 @emotionally-unstabel @peachy-wolfhard @its-loki-bitch @raven-fandomtrash @theilliterateskankula @magicstrange @venusrambles @whereintheworldisspencerreid @honeycombdumbass @kazuive @oscarisaacsleftballsack @zenithinthebin @peachteeaaa @rchaoz @wickedmystery @wordsandnerds @umbrellatte @666abby6666 @iameddiemunsonshair @starlightinhumanform @vennythearsonist @trashmouthsahra @crinklypink @halfumbrella (if you want to be removed/added, pls tell me via pm!!)

This started all because of your damn mouth.

Five keeps, no- always finds himself watching. He feels as if he can’t turn away- that it pulls him back into this tight spot he can’t crawl out of. 

And he never tries to get out. 

Half of the time, he was sure you’ve catched him looking— it wouldn’t surprise him if you have. He feels- knows that he was too obvious, that he was becoming so perverted- that his eyes shouldn’t dare to look at you ever again. 

And yet each time he can- he dares. He feels vulgar, as if he has sinned, but when he sees your lips quirk up into a smile, your canines, molars form a smile that you think shows a little too much gum to the point you try to hide it— he likes it- he can’t help but look. 

He looks at you as if he’s seen an angel. 

His eyes travel down to the curve of your lips- noticing your cupid’s bow accentuating the shape. He takes in every smile, every frown, every time your mouth gaped open and shifted close. How it flattens as you purse your mouth out of frustration. 

He likes how red— angelic, your lips are— how soft it is when you kiss him- when you leave crimson kiss marks on his cheek- neck— even in his own mouth, he loves it. 

It always starts small- so sudden at first. A stolen moment in time, you both grasp unto it. 

His face pressed up on your cheek, and he breathes. He draws you in- the scent of laundry and other sorts of chemicals flood his senses- but it sets him a reminder- to know again that he was not dreaming. 

That he was not creative enough to imagine you and your lips right next to his.

He plants a kiss— it was almost.. sweet- unlike the bitterness of cold coffee, the same one he loves to take in- much to your disdain. It was one that lingers through your skin like a spark. His fingers hold you near, and you could feel the desperation for closeness through his palms.

You push back, returning the gentleness. And yet he strays away, making you want to chase him but he comes back for more— like a starving man- knowing the pleasure is finally in his reach— the desperation clings as his lips push in- His lips smile against yours as he takes you in, his tongue on yours, teeth clashing. 

His viridescent eyes watches you, the glint in his look could eat you alive- consume you like fire to wood- turning your vigor into smoke— it was obscene- your chest felt stuffy as you could feel his heart beat so furiously just inches away from your own. 

His fingers tracing over your hip bone up to your sides. Your hands hold on his upper arms— his again on your hips- sliding across your back, his thumb rubbing shapes, leaving feathered caresses down your spine. 

You were aflamed- burning under his touch, his skin— his lips trailing down your neck- his weight pressing onto your body, molding you both like clay risen from the earth’s mass ever so perfectly. 

You both needed to breathe— gasping unto each other- But if he were to pull away, he’d feel as if he stopped being alive— that he couldn’t be away. He wants- needs to further feel you- taste you. His hands grabbing you everywhere- his tongue briefly touching your lower lip— he breathes, takes you in like the air he lacks itself. 

“Five— Five, shit—“ Left your swelling lips. He only rasps ‘fuck’ before wrestling away, letting your blood rush somewhere else- not on your cheeks- your lips— the crimson merely pumps swiftly in your chest- adrenaline swimming in your veins. 

Silence fills the space between you. As you breathe in and out, hands on the sides of his arms— all he does is stare at your red lips- all swollen up, glistening with a vermillion glow, because of him. 

It was tantalizing.

Impulsivity floods his thinking: and he is a drowning man.

“Open your mouth.” His voice strungs you out of your daze— making you blink. It surprises him too- he shouldn’t.

And yet. 

You slowly part your lips— his thumb coaxes you, further separating them. Your pupils watch him as he finds himself staring on the inside of your mouth. All teeth and gum- supple skin— Enough of that, he tells himself.

There was no point in this- he knows how you feel— how you taste- what was the point of checking the source? But he continues- an urge sinks in deep his fingertips— it was not enough. 

“Wider.” 

His knee shifts, now resting between your thighs- he jerks his clothed thigh up, causing you to let out a small throaty gasp. He only takes this opportunity- slipping his finger in. And just as he was about to move away— He felt your tongue slide on the pad of his thumb and your lips quirk into a mischievous smile. 

He only broadens his shit grinning grin even further. 

“Atta, angel.”

[tiredmamaissy]

i have a lot of tags for this so i'm doing a tag reblog loool :) sorry if you're tagged and don't want to be - just lmk! and sorry if you weren't tagged and wanted to be 😭 also consider this the announcement that the tag list is closed guys 😂😂

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Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Chapter Three

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, ptsd/ flashbacks, profanity, age gap, sexual tension, size difference/kink, praise kink, jealousy, scenting, fingering, recollection of non-con trauma (for the plot), alcohol consumption/drunk character, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 6.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Sorry this one took a while, been a hell of a week. It's got a lot of angst, so prep yourselves guysss. Ends with smut, ofc. I hope you guys enjoy 🤍

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

<- Previous Next ->

“Y/n. For the love of Christ, you better tell me that the storm held ya up last night.” Jakes voice rings in your ear, waking you up.

Oh shit.

You look to your left to see the first rays of sunlight shining on Ralak’s sleeping, naked body, chest heaving slowly from his unfaltering breaths. Perched on his side, his face sits in his palm, as if he’s fallen asleep partially sitting up. Two fingers still nestled inside you, his facial muscles are slightly tensed, like he’s ready wake up any minute and tend to your every need, just like he’s been doing all night long. 

“Get your ass home. Now.” Jakes irate voice brings you back to reality.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

What were you going to tell Jake? That the storm did keep you up? He’d never believe that. Not for a second. Either way, if you didn’t go now, this man would skin the love of your life. Unmated, in his bed, all before your second iknimaya? He’d try, at least.

“Sst-ah.” you let out a shaky breath, grimacing as you pull his fingers out of you. They’re covered in your cum, so much so that a thick string of slick connects you to his fingers when you pull your pelvis away. You scramble to your feet, wiping yourself up with the already damp cloth next to his bed.

I’ll be back, my love. You think, looking over at him one last time before rushing out of his marui.

On your way to the cave, you try to assess your state. It’s hard to tell, given the fact that your heart is pounding at a speed only an ikran could attain. Anxiety streams through your veins, but otherwise, you feel fairly normal. Maybe a little bit like you did after your first iknimaya, when you passed your dream hunt and had one too many glow worms. But nothing unmanageable.

Guess it’s over.

Finally arriving at the cave, frantic eyes search the body of water for your loincloth. It’s floating at the far end of the lake, so you dive in. As you’re swimming, you catch a whiff of your own scent, mixed with Ralak’s. You bring your arm to your nose and take a deep breath. “Fuck.” you curse under your breath, submerging your entire body in the water, trying to bathe his scent off you.

You knew you scented each other, but you didn’t know that it would linger this long. You scrub your body, paying extra attention to your chest and neck. Time is going faster than you can move. But it’s like the more you scrub, the more you rub it into your skin – into your essence.

“Forget this.” you huff, grabbing your loincloth and swimming back to sand. You wring it out, slip inside and tie the knot hastily. One last look back on his marui pod, and you’re gone like the wind – quick and silent.

The trek back home is nerve-wracking, you feel so uneasy that you could feel something in your throat. A lump. You swallow repeatedly, trying to get rid of it, but it grows a little bigger for every step you take. By the time you’re at your marui door, you feel like you can’t breathe.

Neteyam smells you first, wreaking of a male na’vi, nose scrunching at the odour. He huffs a harsh breath through his nostrils, attempting to rid the lingering scent from of his lungs. He examines your condition – clammy skin with little colour left in it. Eyes trailing up to your face, he could see the fear written all over it, along with something else. Something like –

“Jesus, what the hell were you thinking?!” Jake hisses through clenched teeth.

“D-dad. I-I can explain.” you stutter, throat so tight you can barely speak.

Jake pulls his head back, eyelids blinking furiously. It’s as if the scent quite literally hit him, square in the jaw. With his suspicions confirmed, his lips stretch into a thin line, his go to expression of disapproval. The type that makes your ears lay flat against your skull, and bottom lip jut out.

“I can smell him on you.” Jake brushes past you. “Stay with your brother.”

“Dad, please.” your voice is strained, fighting against the lump in your throat. “Where are you going?”

He stops dead in his tracks, back still turned to you, a hand flying up to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. “To Tonowari, kid. Tsireya will teach you from now on.” He heaves a heavy sigh and walks away.

The anxiety quickly morphs into anger, bubbling in your veins and sizzling your skin. Your short fuse blows. How could he take this away from you? You weren’t a ‘kid’ anymore. You had passed your iknimaya back home, and you’re on the brink of passing it here, too. Despite that, he always treats you like this, like the late bloomer you are. He didn’t even care to know what really happened.

“Not a fucking kid!” you shout after him, only for him to shake his head and continue walking.

“Sis.” Neteyam mutters, gently guiding you into the marui pod by your arm.

You shrug him off, storming past him to dive into your bed, burying your face into your pillow – damp from last night’s tears. It only becomes wetter as your fresh tears stream down your face. You couldn’t help it, you cried whenever you felt overwhelmed with anything. Sadness. Happiness. Anger. Frustration.

The sound of your privacy curtain being drawn back snaps your head up from your pillow. It’s Neteyam, standing over you with a face of concern, a bowl of steamed fish in one hand and a cup of water in the other. He sighs quietly, crouching down to come eye to eye with you. “You were in heat, weren’t you?” He states, already knowing the answer. “You should eat and drink something.” He places the bowl and cup on the floor next to you.

You sit up, supporting your torso with your arms behind your back. Neteyam. The older, caring bother, always looking out for everyone but himself. Of course, he would be the one to care enough to find out what you’ve been through the past day. “Yup. Late bloomer finally got her heat.” you speak of yourself harshly, taking the cup of water and chugging it.

“You smell gross.” he chuckles breathily, nudging the bowl of fish closer to you.

“Thanks, big brother. Appreciate it.” you giggle between cries, nudging it back to him. “Not hungry.”

His arms rest on his knees, braids swaying in his face as he looks behind him before dropping his head. “Agh.” he lifts his head, staring at you for a few seconds, as if he were contemplating something. “You should not have done that. Not before your iknimaya.”

“I didn’t! Nothing... like that happened, Tey. Ralak isn’t like that.” your head hangs low as you utter the words. “He’s... a gentle giant.”

Neteyam scoffs, straightening his spine. “Gentle giant? He looks like he eats na’vi for breakfast.”

“Hey –” you sniffle, glaring up at him, “I like him, Tey. A lot. He’s good for me.”

Neteyam’s features soften. As if hearing your words plucked a string of sympathy in his heart. As much as he wants to help you, he can’t. Not with a direct order from his father. He shakes his head, eyes closed, and brows furrowed.

That’s his way of saying, ‘Sorry. Can’t’.

You sigh, bringing your knees to your chest to hide your face. You can smell Ralak’s scent now that your nose is near your thighs. It fills your lungs with every breath you take. His pheromones. His aphrodisiac. His arousal. He left it all on you, rubbed into your skin so deep it seems to have altered your own scent.

Is this what scenting does?  

Soon you’re breathing heavily, trying to savour what left you have of him – of last night. It makes you heavy in the head, like all the strength has left your body. You feel your face warm up, the heat spreading to the tips of your ears. You’re tired. Defeated.

“Neteyam! Neteyam!” Lo’ak’s faint voice sounds frantic.

You hear Neteyam shuffling to his feet to go and check what his brother is on about. “Stay here, got it?”

“Mhm.” you hum, too tired to even lift your head.

The sound of Lo’ak yanking back your privacy curtain makes you jump out of your skin, nearly knocking over the bowl of steamed fish. You stare up at him wide eyed, to see him motioning over to the door of your marui. Your brows kiss in confusion, unsure of what’s going on.

“Heard you were in... hea-a situation. Just gonna borrow big bro for a second, cool?” he raises his brows, nudging his head towards the door in an emphasized manner.

A smile pulls at your lips once you realize what he’s doing for you. You wipe your puffy eyes with the back of your hand and shuffle to your feet. “I owe you, Lo’.”

Ralak’s POV

Ralak rouses to an empty bed. He sits up quickly, scanning his marui for any sign of you. Nothing. The only thing that remains is your potent scent flooding the room. The only proof that you were ever here. “Oh, y/n.” he groans, head slumping into his hands.

You were gone. Gone like you were never here to begin with. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he tried not to assume the worst. But what if – what if it was the worst? To be used and discarded like an object. All over again. Surely, there’s no way that you would do this to him, not after opening-up to you like that. Not after last night. Not after the words you uttered to one another before going to sleep –

‘I love you’.

But why does it feel the same? The same as that day. The day he was in a marui pod like this one, young, bare skinned and short haired, kneeling before his own karyu. His chest tightens, the walls of his throat closing in on one another. He can feel it creeping up his spine. The flashbacks. The tremors. The nausea. Rushing to his feet, he makes his way over to the shelf well-stocked with bottles of ‘fermented fruit’ – pxir [beer; alcohol].

A poison to many, but an antidote to him.

Dust had settled on the bottles since the last day he reached for them. The day you became his tanhì. That’s why he had never brought you up here, he never wanted you to see the truth. The way he copes with his emotions – bottling them up and then chugging it down when they became just too much.

The bottle opens with a pop, strong, bitter scent wafting up his nose, replacing the scent of you in his lungs. He takes a quick swig, baring his teeth from the sting of it trickling down his throat. “Ahh.” He sighs a breath of relief, feeling the alcohol already taking effect, loosening his chest, and clearing his throat.  

Yet he can still feel the shiver of his spine, and the churn of his stomach.

“Shit.” he curses, taking another swig. Cursing himself for trusting another after he made the vow to never trust again. Another swig. For facing the part of him that he’s denied since he came into adulthood. Another swig. For letting someone in. Another swig. For allowing himself to love you.

Alas, a clear mind and body – rid of the memories of his past.

He readies himself for his bath, something he often did to relax. Just like he did last time you left him.

----

Time is of the essence. With no idea of when Jake will be back, you move quickly. You weave through the webbing of the mangrove roots, ducking and dodging those that jut out. You take a short cut, bouncing over the netting of a cluster of marui pods on the way to Ralak’s.

Eyes guardedly stuck to your feet, you bump into Ka’ani, the man who replaced Ralak’s role as fisherman – faceplanting into his bare chest. Arms instinctively wrapping around you, he holds you close until you regain your balance. Admittedly, he’s a little too close for comfort, his face nestled in the crown of your head. You hear quick, nasally breaths, muffled by your hair.

Is he... sniffing me right now?

You shove him off you, probably a little too rough to be considered friendly, and take a few steps back. “Sorry, Ka’ani.” you mutter, gingerly walking around him.

“No problem, at all.” he smirks, raising his hands and making space for you to leave.   

With a quick shake of your head, you continue making your way to Ralak. The closer you get, the more a giddy smile spreads across your face. Though you were the bearer of bad news, you can’t ignore the flutters in your stomach. The same flutters you had when you first laid eyes on him – the day Eywa herself told you he’s the one.

Your mate.

Your legs move faster, as fast as they can go, until the sand slackens your steps. Silky, fine sand – always the first thing to let you know that you’ve arrived. You can’t help the excitement bubbling from your tummy and up your throat. “Ralak!” you blurt out, eager to find your love.

A tall figure in the distance catches your eye, it looks as if he were going into the cave. You wave your hands above your head, shouting his name as you lope towards him. “Ralak!”

The figure stops, turning around to acknowledge your calls. He stands still for a minute, before walking towards you with a stagger in his step. Tail perking up instantaneously, your hand flies to your bare hip, searching for your medicine pouch. You’re running on the tips of your toes again, concern and worry replacing the flutters low in your belly.

“Wha-t is it?” you shout, voice wavering as you close the distance between your bodies.

You crash into him with a smack, making the typically sturdy giant wobble. Now your ears art alert, perturbed by his odd behaviour. Gently pushing you away, his large hands grip your upper arms, fingertips touching once another. Blue, hazed orbs peer down at you, extra glossy and lidded.

“Are you sick? Wounded?” you question, resisting his gentle pushes to search his body. 

Nostrils flickering above his pursed lips, he leans into your neck. He pulls back with a huff, blowing hot air through his nose, onto your face. Your eyelashes flutter, face of concern quickly morphing into one of confusion.

Everyone is sniffing me today.

Head snapping to the left, his eyes search the webs of the mangrove roots off in the distance. A guttural growl rumbles deep in Ralak’s chest, thinned lips curling over his canines, flashing them before your eyes. You watch in awe as his brows lower, knotting together to turn his eyes beady. Ears flat against his skull, the scent of another na’vi scrunches his nose.

That’s a new look.

“Ralak.” your voice is breathy and small – laced with fright.

His growl grows louder, coming from the pit of his stomach, deep and powerful. Lengthy fingers tightening around your arms, he spins you around and tucks you behind him in one swift move. His name slips off your tongue once more, quick, and unsure. He has one hand perched on the dip of your waist, holding you close behind this towering frame.

“Come out.” he growls gruffly, straightening his spine to present at his full height.

The two words double-knot your stomach, sending you wiggling into the sink of his back, face peeking through the crack of his arm and side. Your eyes flicker from side to side, looking for whatever – whoever he’s talking to. Meanwhile, your fingers grip the band on his loincloth, the only thing available on his body to hold.

Silence.

“Or I make you.” He rasps the warning through his four, pointed fangs.

Perhaps if Ralak wasn’t here the knots in your belly would have tightened by now, to the point where you would feel queasy. But the hiss fizzling from the back of his throat puts your nerves at ease – your body sensing its safety in his presence.

Out comes a brawny, wide na’vi, from behind the large, thick roots of the mangroves. His hands are splayed out, representing something of caution. No – surrender. He approaches Ralak slowly. Warily.

“Sorry, brother. I did not know she was yours.” Ka’ani says impishly.

Jaw snapping open, his hiss comes out full force. It’s loud and thick, almost grating. Much like a roar. Though you knew it wasn’t for you, it shook you up, tugging at the string in your grip as your body jolts forward into his.

“She belongs to no one.” His top lip twitches as he spits the vile words, stinging your heart in the process. Am I not his? What about last night? You think, tightening your grip on the band of his loincloth.

“It looks as if she belongs to you, Tak.” Ka’ani leans to the left, chin jutting out as he tries to catch a glimpse of you. “Look at her, holding on to your –”

“Lewng! [shame]. Tracking her scent.” Ralak hisses, turning his body to hide you from his predatory eyes. “Leave.”

“Ah. Come on now, brot-” He spreads his arms wide, walking around Ralak towards you.

Ralak takes a step forward on his last word, nearly coming chest to chest with the shorter na’vi. A moment of silence passes between the two, as Ralak stares him down with vengeance in his eyes. A hand flies up to his hip, gripping the knife sheathed in its casing. “Now.”

Ka’ani straightens his back, eyes flickering between Ralak and yours that peek from behind him. His hands retract, hovering either side of his head as he retreats. Ralak maintains his position, with a hand keeping you tucked away whilst the other rests on his hip. Once Ka’ani’s figure is no longer visible, Ralak sighs, and turns his heel to make his way back to his much-needed bath.

“Thanks...” you huff, walking close behind him.

“You women and your heats.” he mutters as he walks faster, ripping his loincloth out of your grip.

“Ex-cuse me?” your words bounce as you try to keep up with him. “You have no –”

“Do you understand what would have happened had I not been here? Do not be so reckless.” He tsks, as his feet come to a halt, balling his hands into fists.

“Reckless? All I did was walk here!” you shout, almost bumping into him again.

“Because you left to begin with.” he whispers through clenched teeth.

“What?” the question is breathy, hands perching on your knees to rest.

He turns around quickly, prompting you to stand at full height. Breathing heavily, he presses his warm body against yours, chin tucked into his chest to peer down at you. Instinctively, you perch on the tips of your toes, eyes lidded in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, he brings your wrists up to his nose, heated lips pressing against your supple skin.

“He scented you.” he mumbles quickly, lips pulling into a thin line before letting go and backing away.  

“Why? How? I only bumped into him.” you walk towards him, watching him turn his heel again. “Hey –” you reach out for his arm to pull him back around.

First you leave him this morning, then come back scented by another na’vi. He shrugs you off, hands now fiddling with the knot above the base of his tail as he nears the entrance of the cave. The knot of his loincloth comes undone, heavy, sheathed hunting knife silently making impact with the sand.

“Because he wants everything that’s mine.”

So, I am his. You think, one corner of your mouth curling upwards into a smirk.

“Oh, Ralak.” You stand at the cave’s opening, waiting in silence for a response.

He continues to keep his back turned to you, dips of his clenched glutes on full display. Despite last night, seeing him naked still makes you shy, cheeks turning red and hot from the blood that rushes to them. You watch him hastily put his hair in a sloppy bun as he submerges himself in the water.

“I need to speak with you about this morning” you mumble, eyes locked onto the ripple of his back muscles.

“No need. I understand.” he answers lowly, shimmying over to the bottle of fermented fruit propped on a rock in the cave.

“Understand what? It’s about –”

“You made a mistake. It was your heat. It is fine.” he mutters quickly, taking a swig at the last word.

A mistake? My heat?

The realization hits you, hard. You’d been so out of it, so delirious from your heat you hadn’t given a second thought about his confession. His trauma that he confided in you, in this very cave. It’s like stones in your heart – no, boulders. Weighing it down so heavily that it feels like there’s a pulse in your stomach.

How could you be so cruel? So thoughtless? So insensitive? To not even wake him and utter the words to his face. To allow him to wake up to an empty bed after letting down his walls and being so vulnerable to you. To be so caught up in your own head you couldn’t even bat an eye at the man who helped you through your first heat.

“Oh. Oh, Lak. No. No, it’s nothing like that.” you sputter out a trembling voice, sliding into the water to rush over to him. You rest your hand on his upper back, taking in the warmth of his skin. He feels feverish – hot to the touch.

What is he drinking?

You rub his back gently, bioluminescent freckles dancing from your caresses. Yet, he’s rigid. Cold. Distant. He’s not the Ralak you know, swaying side to side as he brings the lip of the bottle to his mouth.

“Stop, my love.” you coo, sliding your hand up his raised arm as you walk around him.  Pulling the bottle away from his lips, you cautiously place the pxir on a nearby ledge. “Ralak.” you whisper, staring up at him with worried eyes.

The sound of his name falling from your lips tilts his head back ever so slightly, like it pained him to even look at you. Curly, loose stands of hair frame his face, accentuating his angular features. He attempts to fix his mask of indifference to his face, but you can see through it. You see the anguish glossed over his lidded, inebriated eyes.

Ocean blue eyes.  

tw: flashback

His mind is elsewhere, dissociating back to the day of the incident. The night of his iknimaya celebration, where his own karyu cornered him in his family marui, engulfing him with her pheromones. Manipulating him with her heat to take care of her. To touch her.

He can hear the waves crashing into the shore, the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof of the marui, the roll of the thunder – her whispers in his ear, ‘I’ve been waiting too long for this. You are officially a man now. Make your karyu feel better, right here...’.

The smell of her pheromones is suffocating, more potent than any fermented fruit he’s ever had. It frightened him, feeling like he had no self-control. No way to stop his movements, no matter how much he screamed at his body to move, run – anything.

It is what made him vow to never lose control of himself. His composure.

He can feel the heaviness of his body. The lethargy. The way his lungs refused to fill, no matter how hard he tried to breathe. When he woke, he was alone, sitting in the corner in a pool of his own sweat, curled in on himself. His karyu left, to never return. Leaving nothing but the lingering smell of her heated scent behind. 

tw: end of flashback

“My karyu” you hum softly, placing his hand on your chest.

When you first called him that, he almost grimaced. But as time passed, you made the word bearable. You gave it a new meaning, a new feeling. Eventually filling him with eagerness to hear it fall from your flushed lips. In tones of excitement, frustration... pleasure.

You hold his thumb, and give it a squeeze, trying to bring him back from wherever he is. Your heart weighed even heavier, seeing him drift away and detach when he’s right in front of you. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. Feel me. Feel my heartbeat. Focus on it and come back to me.”

The words echo in his skull, reverberating between the thick bone. He can hear you, feel you. With each thump of your heart, the heaviness of his body lifts, the scent of her fades, the pitter-patter of the storm subdues until nothing, but that thump can be heard. His eyes finally flicker down to yours, ears and brows twitching at the pulse of your heart.

Only a bottle could do that for him. Bring him back. Yet, you did it with the mere sound of your heart.

“I’m sorry, Lak. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I was so thoughtless. I’m sorry... that happened to you.” the words are shaky, flowing over your quivering bottom lip. “I would never. Ever. Ever. Ever –” you blubber, shaking your head, “Ever, do that to you. I-I had to leave because of my father. He’s punishing me. Forbidding me from seeing you. Having Tsireya teach me instead. I should have woken you.”

Another arm snakes around his waist, bringing him in closer to you. You slump your head into his chest, letting the tears flow and stain his skin. “I don’t regret a thing. I meant everything I said. I-I see you, Ralak” you sputter, breath hitching from the crying.

“Tanhì” he croaks, kissing the crown of your head as he wraps his arms around you to hold you closer.   

“I love you” The three words are said in unison as you cling onto one another.

Alcohol still coursing through his veins, Ralak’s heavy body slumps into you, slowly shifting you both against the cave wall. He presses your back against the rocky surface, unwrapping his arms from your waist to support his body weight with a hand on the wall. He leans in, brushing his cheek against yours.

“I will miss you.” he whispers huskily next to the shell of your ear.

“I’ll miss you, too.” you whisper back, head pulling back to meet his gaze.

Your eyes lock for a moment, an undeniable tension now budding in the air and making your breaths quicken. He inches even closer, lips brushing against yours as you exchange the same hot breath until you’re light in the head.

He kisses you roughly – sloppily.

Tongue slipping into your mouth, you get a taste of what he’s been drinking all day. It’s a little sweet, with undertones of various fruits native to the reef people. But once the sweetness wears off, the bitter aftertaste makes your brows gather. He pulls away, revealing heavy-lidded eyes with thin blue rings for irises, flickering side to side as they stare into yours.

Chests heaving in synchrony, you both struggle to catch your breath. Hands cupping each other’s face, your lips crash into one another again, body language hungry and desperate for each other’s touch. Ralak shoves his knee between your legs, providing you with the friction your body has been begging for. Your body moves on its own, humping at his thigh as best you can in the water.

“I-I want... you.” The desperate words part your bruised, flushed lips, hand sliding up his back to caress his kuru [queue].

He shakes his head, brows gathering tightly. “Not now. Not here. We do it the right way.”

“Then...” you pant, voice laced with desperation as your hands make their way to his hips, dainty fingers wrapping around his hardened girth, “...give me something else.”

Breath turning raggedy, he struggles to maintain his composure. The influence of the alcohol surging through his body proves it to be an even more difficult task. He takes a deep breath, withdrawing his knee from your legs to spin you around in one quick motion. Ralak tries his best to be gentle with you, shoving you into the wall to press his aching cock against you.

A soft moan parts your lips; thin, fuzzy tail wrapping around his thigh in attempts to bring you closer. Eywa, did that push him closer to the edge. Your tail had been one of his favourite things about you from the day you first locked eyes, so slender and delicate. Nothing like his. It not only fascinated him. It aroused him.

It makes him push into you even harder, tip of his cock throbbing against your lower back. He craves to be even closer to you – to be inside you. To rut into you until your voice becomes so hoarse from screaming his name. Over and over. Again, and again. Fingers hurriedly fiddling with the knot of your loincloth, he pants a few greedy, rough kisses along your upper back.

“Oh! Ralak, I-I think –” you moan lowly, his touches throwing you into a daze.

“What?” he huffs, fingers coming to a halt in fear that he’s being too rough with you.

“I think I’m still in heat.” you lie, or maybe it wasn’t a lie. You feel so woozy in the head that you’re not even sure what’s going on anymore. All that sits at the forefront of your mind is him claiming you as his.

“Is that so?” he lets out a breath of relief, a chuckle if you will.

“Yes. Can you help me?” you pant, trembling voice feigned with innocence.

“Ah. Let me check, little one.” He buries his face into the nape of your neck, pulling back with a loud sigh through his nose. A growl rumbles in his chest and up his throat. “I can still smell him.” The scent of another so deep into your skin makes him want to mark you. To sink his lengthy canines into your neck for the smell to seep out, only to be replaced by his.

“Then fix it.” you breathe, head dipping forward to open yourself up to him.

“Oh?” he smiles open mouthed, brushing his pointed fangs against your silken skin, making your back arch on instinct. Submitting to him and his touch. Open mouth lingering over your neck, his jaw closes to graze his teeth against you. He sucks lightly on your skin, puckered lips pulling off with a pop.

Of course, he’d make you wait for that too. He was only ‘helping’ you, right now.  

He kicks your feet apart, spreading your legs for him to settle in closer behind you. A string of your slick connects your thighs together, breaking apart when he rubs his cock against your bare cunt. He begins rubbing his face into the back of your neck, scenting you as his.

“Mine. Yes?” he growls, thrusting himself against your slippery slit.   

“Yes.” You spread your legs further apart, standing on the tips of your toes to provide him with better access. “Please.” You let out a pathetic mewl.

He grunts in frustration. He wants nothing more than to thrust himself inside you, stretching your pussy out with his huge cock. And with those little, sweet pleas, it’s almost too hard to resist. But he does. He pulls away, gaze snapping down to the rope of wetness connecting your most intimate parts together.

Cocking a brow, his hand comes between your sticky pelvises, fingers coiling around the string of slick before they glide over your pussy and spread your folds. Your wetness drips down his digits, pooling in the palm of his hand. “So wet. Maybe you are in heat.” he mumbles, pressing his lips against your back, peppering kisses down the curve of your shoulder.  

Ralak fondles with your puffy clit, rubbing tight circles into it with his slickened fingertips. Your hips squirm around from the white-hot pleasure tightening your core. It’s just not enough. Perhaps it’s just residual heat, but you feel so, so empty. A yearning deep in your womb, to be filled and stretched. Your hips buck forward, slipping his fingertips to prod at your entrance, before pushing back on him to try and sink them inside you.

Needy body language riling up the giant behind you, his harsh kisses move their way up to your ear. “Say it, tanhì.” he groans lowly, positioning his finger at your tight hole.

“I n-need you inside of me!” you cry desperately, shoving yourself back into him.

“You listen so well, paysyul.” he exhales a hot breath into the shell of your ear, sinking his thick finger inside you, twisting his wrist so that he can curl it right into your sweet spot.

“Oh, shit.” you moan breathily, cheek pressed firmly against the rocky wall.

“That is why you learn so quickly.” He fingers you roughly, expertly working out a squelch with each curl of his digit.

The feeling is like heat, shooting down your spine and pooling in your pelvis. It makes your hips spasm, chasing the fiery sensation in hopes to put it out. His finger brings relieve, satiating the itch as your sweet spot swells from pure bliss. He knows exactly where to touch, and how to touch.

Yet, it still isn’t enough.

“More! ‘ts not enough!” you cry, writhing underneath him.

He finds your little cries amusing, letting a chuckle evade his lips. How could something so small act so mighty? He slides another digit in, feeling your tight pussy walls stretch to accommodate him. He hears the little whimper bubbling up your throat, letting him know you need a moment to adjust.

“Taking my fingers so well, hm?” he praises you with a shaky voice, planting a gentle kiss behind your ear.

“Mmmn! Please!” Another plea falls from your lips, a plea for him to move – to make you cum. He sets a relentless pace, stimulating the sensitive spot in your gummy, hot walls, working lengthy moans and mewls from you.

With the way he’s fingerfucking you, it feels as if your nerves are on fire. The coil tightly wound in your core ready to snap any second now. Your brows pinch together in fervour, mouth falling open to allow heavy, hot breaths to escape.

“Close! So close! Gonna! Gonna –” Your words catch in your throat, leaving you breathless and tense around his fingers.

“Make yourself cum.” he orders gruffly, stopping all movement once he feels you tighten around his digits.

You gasp, hips moving on their own to chase the orgasm he just took away from you. “No, no. You know I can’t. Please.” you sputter, pushing against the wall to ride his fingers.

“You can. And you will.” he growls, bending his fingers as encouragement.

You quickly accept your fate, holding on tightly to whatever pleasurable feeling remains and running with it. You push back on him, squirming around as you try to make yourself cum. Closing your eyes, you tune into your body, feeling what feels good and where. But the position that you’re in makes it even harder to do it yourself.

“Just fuck me!” you cry desperately, frustration so pent up you couldn’t help the outburst.

“Language.” he hisses, shoving his fingers so deep inside you that your slick coats his knuckles.

“Fuck! Please.” you beg, reaching behind you to grab his wrist.

“No.” he smirks, looking down at how your cunt sucks in his digits, listening to your pleading and begging.

He just wants to hear a little more. To hear how badly you want him. He loves the way you squirm around, sputtering nonsense from being so fucked out by just his fingers. He loves the little noises your pussy makes for him and can’t wait to hear how they’ll sound once his cock is stuffed inside you.

“Ralak. Please. Please make me cum!” you cry, using his wrist as leverage to fuck back into him.

He slides his hand down your stomach, fingers playing with your swollen, neglected clit. He’s pumping his digits in and out of your dripping cunt, feeling your slick dribble down his hand. It doesn’t take long for you to near your climax, pussy walls clamping down around his fingers.

“Let go. Cum for me.” he groans, swollen tip of his cock oozing beads of precum onto your lower back.

“Oh, fuckfuckfuck!” you let out a hoarse cry, entire body shuddering underneath him “Cumming! Cumming!”

“That’s my girl.” he hums proudly, scissoring his fingers open to stretch you out.  

You let out a high-pitched whimper, hint of pain making your eyes water. Then a wave of ecstasy ripples through you, leaving your legs trembling beneath you. He snakes his arm around your waist, holding you up while you ride out of your high, sprinkling your shoulder with kisses.

Once you come down from your high, you lean back into him, resting your head against his chest. Huffing and puffing, you try to catch your breath as you turn around to cup his swollen balls. “My turn to make you feel good.”

To your surprise, he rests a hand on your arm, pulling it away from him. He looks down at you through blown pupils, arousal plastered all over his face. Beads of sweat trickle down his temples, wet strands of curled hair stuck to his cheeks, he sighs the words. “Not today, tanhi. I must get you back, now.”