#every time i come in he makes some sort of comment about liking the way i dress which is hilarious 2 me bc i . hate the way i dress

[amethystarachnid]

If you promise us a happy ending, I'm okay with a angst part 3 hahahahah a breakup would be nice. The boy needs to move into another place, Tony being the most supportive and cute dad ❤️

CHRISTMAS MORNING - part III

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.9k

ᯓ★ Summary: first love heart break is rough, but nothing a trip to Paris can't resolve

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ Part I | Part II

ᯓ★ Prequel

ᯓ★ maybe a prequel to let you know how Tony and y/n ended up with four kids? 🤭, just wanna focus some more on the two of them before the kids

ᯓ★ Tony Taglist: @groovy-lady

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Summer turns to fall, and Cora and Ryan’s relationship becomes a steady part of family life. By now, Ryan is a regular visitor to the house. Though Tony still maintains his “watchful dad” persona, he’s noticeably relaxed around Ryan, occasionally sharing a sarcastic comment or offering him a soda without much fuss. You’ve even caught Tony grumbling about the boy’s taste in music—not exactly glowing approval, but close enough.

Cora, meanwhile, is glowing in a way you’ve never seen before. She’s still her fiercely independent self, but there’s a new softness about her—she’s less quick to snap, more patient with her siblings, and her happiness is infectious. Except, of course, when it comes to Alex and Howard.

The twins, ever the chaos-makers, have taken their jealousy of Ryan to theatrical levels.

“Cora doesn’t love us anymore,” Alex announces one afternoon as you’re folding laundry in the living room.

“She just loves him,” Howard chimes in dramatically, lying face-down on the carpet like his world has ended.

You glance up from the socks you’re sorting and try not to laugh. “That’s not true, and you know it. Cora loves you very much.”

“Then why doesn’t she play with us anymore?” Alex demands, sitting up with a pout.

“She used to build forts with us,” Howard adds, now rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling like a tragic hero in a Shakespearean play. “Now she just texts him all the time.”

“Boys,” you say gently, sitting down beside them. “Cora’s growing up. That doesn’t mean she loves you any less. She’s just figuring out who she is and spending time with someone who makes her happy. But you’ll always be her little brothers, okay?”

“Yeah, but we don’t like him,” Alex mutters.

“You barely know him,” you point out.

“We don’t have to know him to not like him,” Howard says stubbornly.

Before you can respond, Estelle toddles into the room, dragging a blanket behind her. She climbs onto your lap without a word and leans against you, her thumb in her mouth.

“See?” you say, wrapping an arm around Estelle. “Even when Cora’s busy, you’ve got each other—and us.”

The twins don’t look entirely convinced, but they nod reluctantly.

Later that evening, while the kids are occupied with a movie, you and Tony find a rare quiet moment together in the kitchen. He’s leaning against the counter, sipping a glass of wine, while you finish tidying up.

“They’re really laying it on thick, huh?” Tony says, smirking as he recalls the twins’ earlier dramatics.

“They’re jealous,” you reply, rinsing the last dish. “They miss her, and they don’t know how to say it without turning it into a production.”

Tony sets his glass down and crosses the room, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “Well, they’d better get used to it. She’s not a kid anymore. And I’m pretty sure Ryan’s sticking around.”

You lean back against him, savoring the warmth of the moment. “You really think so?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I still want to give the kid the third degree every time I see him,” Tony says with a chuckle. “But yeah, he’s not bad. And she’s happy. That’s what matters, right?”

You turn to face him, resting your hands on his chest. “You’re a good dad, you know that?”

“Don’t let that get around,” he says, grinning as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Just then, Estelle toddles into the kitchen, clutching a stuffed animal in one hand and rubbing her eyes with the other.

“Mommy,” she says sleepily.

You scoop her up, kissing her chubby cheek. “What are you doing out of bed, little one?”

“Can’t sleep,” she murmurs, resting her head on your shoulder.

Tony reaches out to brush a strand of hair from her face, his expression softening in that way it always does when he looks at her. “Come on, princess,” he says. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

He takes her from your arms and carries her upstairs, humming a soft tune as she curls against his chest. You follow a few steps behind, watching the way he cradles her with the kind of tenderness that still catches you off guard sometimes.

Back downstairs, the twins are sprawled on the couch, fast asleep by the time the credits roll. Cora is in her room, probably texting Ryan, and the house feels peaceful in a way that’s rare but cherished.

Over the next few weeks, the twins continue to grumble about Ryan, but their protests lose some of their bite. They still don’t love the idea of sharing Cora’s attention, but they’re slowly coming to terms with it.

One Saturday, Cora surprises everyone by joining the twins for a game of basketball in the driveway. Ryan is nowhere in sight, and the boys are thrilled to have their big sister back, even if only for an hour. You watch from the porch with Tony, sipping coffee as the three of them laugh and bicker over the rules.

“See?” you say, nudging Tony with your elbow. “They’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, though his gaze lingers on Cora a little longer. “But I reserve the right to be overprotective forever.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you reply, leaning against him.

It’s late afternoon when the front door opens, and you hear the unmistakable sound of Cora’s school bag dropping onto the floor. Usually, this is accompanied by her calling out, “Hey, I’m home!” or the sound of her heading to the kitchen for a snack. But today, it’s eerily quiet.

You glance up from the stack of papers you’re sorting at the dining table, your instincts immediately on alert. Tony, who’s tinkering with something small and metallic at the kitchen counter, notices too.

“Cora?” you call, standing.

Then you hear it—soft, muffled sobs coming from the living room. You’re moving before you even think, Tony right behind you.

You find her sitting on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest, her face buried in her arms. Her whole body shakes with the force of her tears, and it feels like someone’s reached into your chest and squeezed your heart.

“Sweetheart?” you say softly, sitting down beside her.

Tony freezes for a moment, his eyes wide with panic as he takes in the sight of his usually strong, confident daughter falling apart. “What happened? Who hurt you? Tell me right now, and I’ll deal with it,” he says, his voice already edging toward anger.

Cora looks up, her face streaked with tears, and shakes her head. “No one hurt me, Dad.”

“Then what’s wrong?” you ask gently, brushing her hair out of her face.

She tries to speak, but her voice cracks, and a fresh wave of tears spills over.

Tony, clearly struggling to stay calm, sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “Cora, you’re scaring me here. Just tell us what’s going on.”

After a moment, she takes a shaky breath and manages to get the words out. “Ryan… Ryan’s moving to London.”

Your heart sinks. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Tony blinks, his initial panic giving way to confusion. “London? Like… England London?”

Cora nods, wiping at her eyes. “His dad got a job there. They’re leaving in a month.”

“And what does that mean for you two?” Tony asks, though he already looks like he knows the answer.

Cora swallows hard, her voice trembling. “He… He said we should break up. He doesn’t want to do long distance.”

Tony’s jaw tightens, his fists clenching on his knees. “That little—”

“Tony,” you say sharply, cutting him off. “This isn’t about you wanting to punch a teenager.”

“Why not?” he mutters under his breath, but he backs down.

Cora lets out a shaky sigh. “It’s not his fault. He doesn’t think it’ll work, and… maybe he’s right. But it hurts so much.”

“Oh, honey,” you say, pulling her into a hug. She collapses against you, her sobs muffled against your shoulder.

Tony’s expression softens as he watches her, and he reaches out to squeeze her hand. “He’s an idiot if he thinks he’s not going to miss you every day. You’re amazing, Cora. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise.”

Before she can respond, there’s a small sound from the hallway. You turn to see Estelle standing there, clutching her favorite plushie—a well-loved bunny with one floppy ear. Her wide eyes take in the scene, and she hesitates for a moment before toddling over to the couch.

“Cowa sad?” she asks, her voice tiny and uncertain.

Cora sniffles and sits up a little, trying to wipe her tears away. “I’m okay, Estelle.”

But Estelle isn’t convinced. She climbs onto the couch beside her sister, her little face scrunched up with concern. Without a word, she holds out her bunny.

“Bun-bun make you happy,” she says solemnly.

Cora’s breath catches, and for a moment, she looks like she might start crying again—but this time, for an entirely different reason. She takes the plushie with trembling hands and pulls Estelle into a hug.

“Thank you, Stellie,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

Tony watches the scene unfold, his usual snark and bravado nowhere to be found. He looks at you, and you can see the helplessness in his eyes. He hates seeing any of his kids in pain, and knowing there’s nothing he can do to fix it is clearly killing him.

Later, after you’ve managed to convince Cora to eat a little something and Estelle is back to playing with her toys, you find Tony in the garage. He’s pacing, running his hands through his hair, and muttering to himself.

“Tony,” you say gently, stepping into the room.

He stops and looks at you, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. “I hate this. I hate that she’s hurting, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I know,” you say, wrapping your arms around him. “But she doesn’t need you to fix it. She just needs you to be there for her.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” he admits, his voice quiet. “I’m not good at this kind of stuff.”

“You’re better at it than you think,” you tell him, resting your head against his chest. “Just keep showing up. That’s all she needs.”

Over the next few days, Cora starts to open up a little more. She talks about the memories she and Ryan made together, the inside jokes they shared, and the plans they’d dreamed of before the news of his move.

The twins, thankfully, are oblivious to the situation for the time being. They’re too busy with basketball practice and their latest obsession with building the tallest block towers they can manage. You’re grateful for the reprieve—it gives Cora space to grieve without their constant questions and commentary.

One evening, as you’re tucking Estelle into bed, she looks up at you with her big, curious eyes.

“Cowa okay now?” she asks.

You smile softly and brush her hair back. “She’s getting there, sweetie. Thanks to you and Bun-bun.”

Estelle nods, satisfied, and snuggles deeper into her blankets.

By the end of the week, Cora seems a little stronger. She still has moments where the pain hits her all over again, but she’s beginning to smile and laugh more often. Tony even manages to get her to join him for a round of Mario Kart, and the sound of her laughter fills the house like a balm for everyone’s hearts.

“She’s going to be okay,” you tell Tony one night as you’re lying in bed.

“Yeah,” he says, though his voice is still tinged with sadness. “But it’s going to take time.”

And so, as a family, you give her all the time she needs, surrounding her with love, support, and the occasional inappropriate dad joke to remind her that she’s never alone.

The chaos starts one evening during dinner. The twins are unusually quiet, their usual chatter about basketball, school antics, and random “fun facts” replaced by curious glances toward Cora. She’s sitting at the table, picking at her plate of pasta with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. The sparkle she usually carries has dimmed a bit since the breakup, though she’s been doing her best to mask it.

“Hey, Cora,” Alex pipes up, breaking the silence. “Where’s Ryan? He hasn’t come over in forever.”

Howard nods, his mouth full. “Yeah, didn’t he say he’d bring us that big bag of caramel popcorn? He never did.”

You can see the subtle flinch in Cora’s shoulders before she glances at you, silently pleading for help. Tony immediately stiffens, his protective instincts on high alert as he watches the exchange unfold.

“Guys,” you say gently, “Ryan… isn’t coming over anymore.”

The twins pause mid-bite, their synchronized reactions almost comical.

“What? Why?” Alex demands, his tone filled with disbelief.

Howard narrows his eyes. “Did he do something to you, Cora? Because if he did, we’ll—”

“No!” Cora cuts in quickly, setting down her fork. “It’s nothing like that. He’s moving to London, and we broke up.”

The twins blink, processing this new information. Then, as if on cue, they both push their plates away and hop off their chairs.

“Unacceptable,” Alex declares, his hands balling into fists.

“Totally unacceptable,” Howard echoes, his expression darkening. “He can’t just dump you and move to London like that!”

“It’s not his fault,” Cora says, though her voice is tinged with frustration. “He doesn’t want to do long distance, and we both agreed it was for the best.”

“That’s a bad excuse,” Alex snaps, pacing back and forth.

“He’s a coward,” Howard adds. “And cowards don’t deserve you, Cora!”

Before you or Tony can intervene, Estelle, who has been sitting quietly in her high chair, suddenly pipes up in her tiny, serious voice.

“Coward don’t deserve Cowa,” she says, mimicking Howard’s words almost perfectly.

Tony chokes on his water, and you nearly drop your fork.

“Estelle,” you say, trying not to laugh. “Sweetie, you don’t even know what that means.”

“Coward,” Estelle repeats, crossing her arms like her brothers, as if she fully understands the weight of her declaration.

“See? Even Stellie gets it!” Alex says, gesturing dramatically to his baby sister.

“We should punch him,” Howard announces, his face set in a grim expression.

“Punch him,” Estelle echoes, holding up her tiny fist.

At that, Tony finally snaps out of his stunned silence and stands up, waving his hands in front of him. “Okay, okay, let’s pump the brakes here. Nobody’s punching anyone.”

“Why not?” Alex asks, glaring up at his dad.

“And anyway,” Howard adds, “Ryan hurt Cora. Isn’t that worse?”

“Guys,” you say firmly, stepping in before this spirals any further, “violence isn’t the answer. And Ryan didn’t hurt Cora—he made a difficult decision, and sometimes relationships just don’t work out. It’s no one’s fault.”

“But Cora’s sad,” Alex says, his lower lip jutting out in a rare display of vulnerability.

“We don’t like seeing her like this,” Howard agrees.

Cora, who’s been quietly watching the whole exchange, finally speaks up. “I appreciate you guys wanting to defend me, but I don’t need anyone to fight my battles. I’m okay, really.”

“You don’t seem okay,” Alex mumbles.

“She’s just figuring it out,” you say softly, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “And the best thing you can do is support her and be there when she needs you.”

The twins exchange a look, clearly reluctant to let the matter drop.

“We still don’t like him,” Howard mutters as he sits back down.

“Yeah,” Alex adds. “And we’re never eating caramel popcorn again.”

At that, Estelle solemnly pushes her sippy cup away and declares, “No popcorn.”

Tony snorts, shaking his head as he sits back down. “You’re really digging in on this, huh?”

“Someone has to,” Alex says with a dramatic sigh.

The rest of dinner is a little quieter, though the twins occasionally shoot pointed glances at Cora, as if they’re still plotting how to avenge her heartbreak. Estelle, meanwhile, alternates between eating her mashed potatoes and mimicking the twins’ exaggerated arm-crossing stance, clearly enjoying the attention.

Later, as you’re tucking Estelle into bed, she looks up at you with her wide, innocent eyes and asks, “Cowa happy now?”

You brush a strand of hair from her face and kiss her forehead. “She’s getting there, sweetie. Thanks to you and your brothers.”

Estelle smiles, snuggling into her blankets. “Okay. No popcorn.”

You stifle a laugh and tuck her in, leaving her room with a heart full of love for your fiercely protective little family.

Downstairs, you find Tony sitting on the couch, staring at the wall with a contemplative expression.

“You okay?” you ask, sitting beside him.

He lets out a long sigh. “I don’t know how you do it. Keeping them all from forming a vigilante squad and storming London.”

You laugh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “It’s a team effort.”

Tony wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. “She’s going to be okay, right?”

“She will,” you say confidently. “She’s got us. And if that’s not enough, she’s got two little brothers and a baby sister ready to take on the world for her.”

Tony chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Yeah. That’s enough.”

It starts with little things, subtle and soft gestures to help lift Cora’s spirits. You and Tony both know she’s heartbroken—first loves are never easy to lose, and Ryan’s move to London had hit her harder than she wanted to admit. But you also know the kind of family she has. Stark resilience, wrapped in unconditional love, with just a sprinkle of chaos.

The effort begins the morning after the twins’ dramatic anti-Ryan declarations. Cora walks into the kitchen to find the twins at the breakfast table, uncharacteristically quiet. Estelle is perched in her high chair, clumsily holding a spoon as she tries to feed herself yogurt.

“Good morning,” Cora mumbles, still a little groggy.

“Morning!” Alex chirps, way too chipper for this early.

“Hi,” Howard says, looking suspiciously at his brother.

Cora narrows her eyes. “What are you two up to?”

“Nothing!” Alex says, but his grin gives him away.

Howard looks down at his plate, trying to look innocent but failing miserably. That’s when you step in from behind them, holding a plate of Cora’s favorite pancakes—chocolate chip, with extra whipped cream.

“We just thought you deserved a special breakfast,” you say, setting the plate in front of her.

Cora raises an eyebrow. “Okay, what’s the catch?”

“No catch!” Tony’s voice booms as he strides into the kitchen, dressed in a casual hoodie and jeans. “Just a family-wide campaign to cheer you up. Welcome to Operation Cora Smiles Again.”

Cora groans, though there’s a tiny flicker of amusement in her eyes. “You’re all ridiculous.”

“And you love us for it,” Tony says, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before grabbing his coffee.

Over the next few days, the “operation” goes into full swing. The twins take it upon themselves to invite Cora to all their activities, from basketball practice to board games, though their “invites” are mostly just them dragging her out of her room. Estelle toddles after her sister constantly, climbing into her lap during movie nights and insisting Cora help her with her coloring books.

Tony, of course, takes things to a whole new level.

One afternoon, he barges into the living room where you and Cora are sitting, her head on your shoulder as the two of you watch some feel-good rom-com. He’s holding his phone, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Ladies,” he announces, “pack your bags. We’re going to Paris.”

Cora sits up straight, her mouth falling open. “What?”

“You’ve always said you wanted to see the Louvre, right?” Tony says, grinning. “Well, I figured, what better way to distract you than with some world-class art and culture? Plus, croissants.”

“Are you serious?” Cora asks, still stunned.

“Dead serious,” Tony replies. “Private jet leaves in two days. Hope you’ve been brushing up on your French.”

“Dad, you can’t just—”

“Already booked it,” he interrupts, waving his phone. “Non-refundable. So you’re coming.”

Cora looks at you, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Mom?”

You shrug, smiling. “He’s not kidding. You might as well start picking out your outfits.”

She blinks a few times, then a slow smile spreads across her face. “Okay, fine. Paris sounds… amazing.”

Tony pumps his fist in victory, and you shake your head fondly.

When the day of the trip arrives, the excitement in the house is palpable. The twins are bouncing off the walls, thrilled at the idea of flying on the family’s private jet again. Estelle is too young to fully understand what’s happening but seems to pick up on the energy, clapping her hands and shouting, “Pawis!” every few minutes.

Cora, meanwhile, is quieter but visibly excited. She spends most of the flight flipping through a guidebook Tony had casually tossed her way, her mood lighter than it’s been in weeks.

Once you land in Paris, it’s like a whole new world opens up for her. The city is everything she’d imagined—bustling streets, beautiful architecture, and, of course, the Eiffel Tower. You and Tony make sure the kids experience all the highlights: boat rides along the Seine, macarons at a fancy patisserie, and a picnic at the Champs de Mars.

But the real highlight is the Louvre.

Walking through the museum, Cora is completely captivated. She takes her time studying each exhibit, her eyes wide with wonder as she absorbs the art and history. Tony stays close, his usual sarcasm dialed back as he watches her with pride.

At one point, she stops in front of the Mona Lisa, her expression thoughtful.

“It’s smaller than I thought it’d be,” she says.

Tony smirks. “Yeah, but it’s got personality. Kind of like someone else I know.”

Cora rolls her eyes but laughs, and it’s one of the first genuine laughs you’ve heard from her in a while.

By the time you return to the hotel that evening, everyone is exhausted but happy. The twins collapse onto their beds, and Estelle is already dozing off in your arms. Cora sits on the balcony, looking out at the city lights.

Tony joins her, leaning on the railing. “Feeling better?”

She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah. Thanks, Dad. For all of this.”

He shrugs, though you can see the emotion in his eyes. “Anything for you, kid.”

When you join them, Tony wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. Together, the three of you watch the Eiffel Tower sparkle in the distance, a quiet moment of peace in the midst of everything.

The Paris trip continues to unravel in a blend of heartwarming family moments and the kind of chaos only a Stark family vacation could produce. It starts innocently enough as you all wander through the streets of Montmartre, the cobblestone pathways alive with music, street performers, and the scent of fresh pastries. Cora has perked up considerably since the museum visit, her mood lighter, her laughter more frequent.

But then there’s him.

It happens as the family pauses near a small café. You’re distracted, helping Estelle adjust the straps of her sunhat while Tony orders espressos, croissants, and a ridiculously overpriced cup of hot chocolate for the twins. Cora’s off to the side, flipping through postcards at a nearby vendor stand, when you notice a boy about her age approaching her.

He’s tall, with tousled dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and a confidence that screams “Parisian charm.” He says something in French, his voice lilting in a way that immediately draws Cora’s attention. She blushes, brushing her hair behind her ear as she responds—haltingly but gamely—in the French she’s been practicing since she knew about the trip.

Tony notices it too.

“What’s happening here?” he says, his tone shifting to dad mode as he steps closer, coffee cup in hand.

“Oh, relax,” you say, biting back a smile. “He’s just flirting with her.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “Flirting? In broad daylight? In front of me?”

“He probably doesn’t know you’re her dad,” you tease, leaning closer. “She does have my genes, after all.”

Tony smirks but doesn’t lose his focus on the boy. “Well, he’s about to find out.”

Before he can make a move, the twins return, each holding a baguette that’s nearly as big as they are. Alex squints at the scene unfolding by the postcards.

“Hey, who’s that guy talking to Cora?” he asks, his mouth full of bread.

“Probably her new boyfriend,” Howard says, grinning mischievously.

“Not helping,” Tony mutters.

“Let’s just give her some space,” you suggest, tugging gently on his arm. “She’s allowed to talk to boys, you know.”

Tony sighs but relents, though he keeps a close eye on the interaction. Eventually, the boy waves goodbye and walks away, leaving Cora clutching her postcards with a dazed expression. When she rejoins the group, Tony can’t help himself.

“So, who’s your new friend?” he asks, trying (and failing) to sound casual.

Cora glares at him. “Nobody. Just some guy.”

“Did he give you his number?” Alex asks, grinning.

“Did he try to kiss you?” Howard adds.

“Guys, stop,” Cora groans, her cheeks turning bright red.

Tony crosses his arms. “Was his name Pierre? Because he looked like a Pierre.”

You smack his arm lightly, laughing. “Tony, let it go.”

Despite the teasing, the moment passes, and the family moves on to the next adventure. The twins, however, are not so easily distracted.

That evening, as you’re lounging in the hotel room, flipping through a travel guide, the boys march up to you and Tony with matching determined expressions.

“We want to go to Disneyland,” Alex announces.

“Disneyland Paris,” Howard clarifies.

“Please, Mom?” Alex adds, turning his best puppy-dog eyes on you.

Tony snorts. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We came all the way to Paris, and you want to see Mickey Mouse?”

“Oui, Mickey,” Estelle chimes in from her spot on the bed, clapping her hands.

You glance at Tony, who’s already shaking his head. But then Cora chimes in, a small smile playing on her lips.

“It could be fun,” she says. “And the twins have been really sweet to me lately. I think they deserve it.”

Tony groans. “You’re killing me, kid.”

The next day, you find yourself standing in the middle of Disneyland Paris, surrounded by excited children, cotton candy stands, and the sound of cheerful Disney music. The twins are practically vibrating with excitement, dragging Cora from one attraction to the next.

Estelle is equally thrilled, her eyes wide as she points at every princess she sees, babbling excitedly about their dresses.

“Look at her,” Tony says, watching Estelle hug a life-sized Winnie the Pooh with absolute joy. “She’s two, and she already knows how to work the system.”

“She’s your daughter,” you tease, linking your arm with his.

The day is a whirlwind of rides, character meet-and-greets, and an obscene amount of overpriced snacks. Tony tries to talk his way into a VIP area at one point, but you manage to reel him back before he starts name-dropping himself.

Later, as the sun begins to set, the kids are busy chasing bubbles near Sleeping Beauty’s Castle, and you and Tony find a rare moment of peace on a nearby bench.

“Remember the last time we were in Paris?” he says, his voice low and teasing.

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “I do. And I remember how much wine we drank that night.”

Tony smirks. “It was a good night. A productive night.”

“Tony,” you say, laughing softly.

“What?” he says, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying, nine months later, we had Cora. Coincidence? I think not.”

You shake your head, leaning into him. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, the chaos of the day fading into the background. Tony takes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he says quietly. “Keeping this whole crazy family together, making sure everyone’s happy…”

“You help,” you say, smiling up at him.

He grins. “Yeah, but you’re the glue. The sexy, unstoppable glue.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mrs. Stark,” he murmurs.

The moment is interrupted by Estelle toddling over, holding a sticky cotton candy in her hands. “Mama! Dada!” she says, grinning. “Candy!”

Tony scoops her up, laughing. “All right, princess. Let’s get you cleaned up before you stick to everything.”

As the fireworks light up the night sky, you watch your family, your heart full. Cora is smiling again, the twins are their usual mischievous selves, and even Estelle is giggling as Tony pretends to “steal” her cotton candy.

It’s not perfect, but it’s yours. And in this moment, it’s everything you could ever want.

Returning to Miami is bittersweet. After the whirlwind adventure in Paris, filled with laughter, healing, and plenty of magical moments, the familiarity of home feels both comforting and a little dull in comparison. The private jet touches down mid-morning, and as you step onto the tarmac, the heat wraps around you like an old friend. Estelle claps her hands excitedly at the sight of palm trees, and the twins immediately begin discussing which of their toys they missed most.

Cora, however, is a little quieter than usual. She’s not sulking—in fact, she seems happy—but there’s something in her demeanor, a kind of soft distraction, that doesn’t go unnoticed. You and Tony exchange a knowing glance as you watch her scrolling on her phone, her thumbs moving quickly over the screen as a faint smile plays on her lips.

By the time you’re back at the house, it’s clear that whatever—or whoever—Cora is texting has her full attention. The twins bolt up the stairs to their room, racing to see who can dump their luggage the fastest. Estelle toddles after them, babbling about her stuffed animals and pausing halfway up to plop down and rest.

Cora lingers in the living room, dropping her bags by the couch and flopping down with a sigh. Her phone is still in her hand, and her fingers immediately start typing again.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “So, who’s the lucky recipient of all those texts?”

Cora doesn’t look up, but she does roll her eyes. “Nobody.”

You smirk, taking a seat next to her. “Nobody’s got you smiling at your phone like that? Come on, spill.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just talking to some people I met in France.”

Tony sits on the arm of the couch, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh, some people, huh? Are we talking guys, girls, or… Pierre?”

“Dad, seriously?” Cora groans, but she’s laughing despite herself.

“Wait, is it actually Pierre?” you ask, feigning shock.

“No!” Cora insists, finally setting her phone down and looking between the two of you. “His name is Louis. He was in line behind me at the Louvre, and we started talking while we waited. He’s cool, okay? That’s it.”

“Cool enough to text all day?” Tony teases, his grin widening.

“Cool enough to not break my heart, which is more than I can say for other people,” Cora shoots back, though her tone is light.

Tony’s smile falters for just a moment, and you place a hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Well,” you say, steering the conversation back to neutral ground, “I think it’s great that you’re making new friends. France clearly left an impression.”

Cora nods, picking up her phone again. “Yeah. Louis and his friends were all really nice. They even invited me to come back someday and visit.”

Tony stiffens. “Visit? Alone? Over my dead body.”

“Tony,” you warn, shooting him a look.

“I’m just saying,” he mutters, leaning back. “Paris is great and all, but it’s a long way from here. And I don’t trust teenage boys. Especially French ones. They’re too charming.”

Cora laughs, shaking her head. “Relax, Dad. It’s not like I’m packing my bags tomorrow. Besides, you liked Paris too, remember? You wouldn’t stop talking about the croissants.”

“She’s got you there,” you say, smiling.

The next few days pass in a blur of unpacking, settling back into routines, and adjusting to the Miami heat. Cora spends a lot of time in her room, but instead of sulking like she had after the breakup, she seems genuinely happy. You often catch her laughing at something on her phone, and her mood has improved so much that even the twins take notice.

At dinner one evening, Alex leans over his plate of spaghetti and asks, “Cora, why are you always on your phone? Are you playing games?”

“No,” she says, twirling her fork. “I’m talking to my friends.”

Howard squints at her. “What friends? You don’t have any friends here.”

“Not here,” Cora says patiently. “In France. Remember the trip we just took? I met some people there.”

“Like Pierre?” Alex asks, grinning.

“His name is Louis,” Estelle pipes up, repeating what she’s heard so many times over the past few days. She giggles as if she understands the joke.

“Okay, dinner table rule,” you say, holding up a hand. “No teasing your sister about her friends. Got it?”

“Yes, Mom,” the twins say in unison, though you can tell they’re not entirely sincere.

After dinner, as you’re cleaning up in the kitchen, Tony wanders in, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder.

“So, what do you think about this Louis kid?” he asks, leaning against the counter.

“I think he’s halfway across the world and just a friend,” you reply, rinsing a plate. “And I think it’s good for Cora to have someone to talk to who isn’t us.”

Tony sighs. “Yeah, I guess. But I’m not thrilled about the idea of her running off to Europe to visit him someday.”

“She’s not running off anywhere,” you say, setting the plate in the drying rack. “And if she ever did, it wouldn’t be without a lot of planning—and probably a chaperone.”

Tony smirks. “So, you’re saying I’d have to go too?”

“Obviously,” you say, smiling. “You’d hate to miss out on more croissants.”

As the days turn into weeks, Cora continues to text Louis and his group of friends, her phone buzzing at all hours with messages and pictures. You catch glimpses of their conversations occasionally—photos of the Eiffel Tower lit up at night, jokes about the Louvre’s long lines, and even a video of someone attempting to skateboard in a cobblestone alley.

The twins remain mildly suspicious of this new development, but their jealousy is quickly forgotten whenever Cora agrees to join them for a game of basketball or a movie night.

One afternoon, as you’re sitting on the patio with Tony, watching Estelle splash around in the kiddie pool, he leans over and says, “You know, I think she’s really okay now.”

You follow his gaze to where Cora is lounging in a hammock, laughing at something on her phone.

“She is,” you agree, resting your head on his shoulder. “And that’s all that matters.”

Tony wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. “You know, we’re pretty good at this whole parenting thing.”

“Speak for yourself,” you tease. “I’m the glue, remember?”

He laughs, kissing the top of your head. “Fair enough. But I’m the fun one.”

“Sure you are,” you say, smiling as you watch your family, your heart full.

[callme-holly]

I wanted to know how The Outsiders would feel if they brought the reader to Build-A-Bear might have to be like maybe a modern-day Outsiders or, like the reader asked, to go☺️

𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝-𝐚-𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫

a/n: this was so cute omggg. also just a heads up my masterlist is too long to add anything so i will need to make a new one eventually!! i will get round to it i swear

Darry Curtis:

Darry would be pretty confused when you first ask if he can take you; he’d always assumed Build-A-Bear was something for kids and that you were far too old to be going. But when he sees how excited you are, he can’t really say no. He’s mainly there to keep an eye on you and to make sure you don't spend too much money. He might make little comments on outfits, and if you insist, he might just get matching bears with you so that yours doesn't get lonely. Despite not having the money, he’ll still pay for everything, telling you not to worry about it and to consider it a date.

Sodapop Curtis:

Soda is totally down to go to Build-A-Bear with you and is probably just as excited to go. He’ll be bouncing off the walls, helping you pick out everything and treating it like it’s a much bigger deal than it actually is.  When it comes down to that silly ritual they make you do with the hearts, he’s encouraging you to do it with him so that the bear has just as much love from both of you. It pretty much becomes your guys’ child, and he will get a bear for himself so that it can match outfits with yours.

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony is pretty embarrassed about going at first, but he doesn’t turn down the offer of going. He’ll act all sheepish when you drag him inside, but the second he sees everything and just how bright it is, he relaxes and is thrilled to be there. He’s the sort to spend forever picking out the perfect bear and overthinking every single option. If there's a tiny loose thread, he’ll put it back. You need to have the best one there. He’s also a sucker for the little scents they do as well as the audio recordings. 

Johnny Cade:

He’s a little unsure at first, but he’ll agree to go nonetheless and actually adores it. He loves how excited you get the second you walk in, and he can honestly understand why. He’ll help you pick out the softest bear you can find (I'm picturing that little stuffed black dog) and is thrilled to help you pick out outfits. He doesn’t smile the whole time; it probably unlocks some sort of childish feelings in him because he never got to experience anything like it as a kid. Lets you pick the same and is happy with anything, but he’ll hold on to it forever. 

Dallas Winston:

Dallas is so against going at first because he thinks it’s childish and dumb and a massive bruise on his tough ego. When you eventually drag him along anyway, he’ll grumble and complain the whole time about how “damn expensive everything is”, but he will still help you pick out a bear if you ask. He’ll just sort of follow you around, offering half-hearted support and teasing you when you have to do the heat ceremony thing. If you want help picking outfits, the only thing he’s concerned about is the price of it. Don't ask him for name suggestions unless you want something utterly ridiculous. 

Steve Randle:

Steve is surprisingly way too excited about making a bear with you and makes it such a big deal. He’ll pick out cool outfits that are either sports or somehow car-related, helping you dress the bear and parading it around like a trophy.  He’ll tease you for all your choices but   thinks its cute and will insist on getting one of the little scented things. He’s all for going all out, but if you try to buy the bear an entire wardrobe, he’ll have to stop you and remind you that he’s the one paying for everything. He’ll give you ridiculous name suggestions and will treat the bear like his child.

Two-Bit Mathews:

He thrives in Build-A-Bear; it’s like taking a small child along. Everything excites him, and he’ll be all over helping you pick out a bear. He’ll consider every single option, and when you finally settle on one, he acts like he’s just completed a serious mission. Chooses mismatched outfits and ones that he considers “tuff”. Will probably get the bear sunglasses and a leather jacket too. He’s obsessed with the sound boxes, and you know for a fact he’s recording some stupid, secret message to hide in your bear. 

[dennisboobs]

i wrote another rambly dennis analysis and deleted it <3 y'all don't need that

[c0rpsedemon]

no one has my back the way the guy at the local boba place has my back

[requiemforthepoets]

the story we won’t tell is my greatest fantasy ⟢ LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: seven years. you and lando had been together for seven years, but it all went down the drain the moment he decided to come clean about the mistake that he did.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, breakup, cheating, cheater lando, pregnancy, secret child, mentions of nausea and vomiting, fainting, angst, open ending, math is not mathing (but i tried), some inaccuracies, named side characters (except for the reader), single!mom reader, and minor typographical errors

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic is inspired by niki’s song ‘apartment we won’t share,’ ik that we have diff interpretations for the songs, but i interpret it as the way how i wrote this fic. i’m not planning on doing a second part of this, and just leave it an open ending. but if someday i get inspired, i’ll try and make a part 2 for this, though for now, there will be no part 2 for this fic. i will be leaving the ending all up to you. you comments/reblogs is highly appreciated, and i hope that you’ll enjoy this one.

main masterlist | fic playlist

It had been a long and exhausting week. The lingering ache from your family emergency still tugged at your heart, so to keep off your mind from things, you had spent most of the day sorting through Lando’s things, folding clothes and making sure his suitcase was ready for his flight to another race weekend. It was the kind of task you had done so many times in the last seven years, but this time, it felt heavier, like there was something wrong that you couldn’t quite place.

When Lando returned to Monaco a few days later, you expected him to be his usual vibrant self, but something was off with him. Lando’s eyes seemed heavier, his posture slouched, and smile lacked the spark that you were used to.

“Hey, can we talk for a second?” he asked, voice unusually subdued.

You set down the shirt you had been folding, brows furrowing. “Sure, of course,” you replied, taking a seat on the couch. “What’s on your mind?”

Lando hesitated, hands fidgeting with the edge of his hoodie. He sat across from you, knees bouncing slightly as he stared at the floor. “You know I love you, right? More than anything.”

A faint smile crossed your lips. “I know, Lan, and you made sure to let me know everyday for seven years.”

He looked up briefly, gaze fleeting before dropping back to the floor. “I need to tell you something, I wanted to be completely honest with you…and it’s probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Lando’s tone, demeanor—it was all wrong, and you were getting really nervous by now. “What is it?” you asked, voice quiet, wary.

Lando took a deep breath, his hands now gripping his knees as if to ground himself. “When I was out for a night with the guys a month ago…I messed up.”

Your stomach churned. You didn’t want to interrupt him, waiting for Lando to continue, though every fiber of your being wanted to scream at him, to demand some answers.

“There was…someone at the club that night,” he said, words slow and measured, like he was forcing them out of him. “It was stupid, an honest mistake. I was so drunk, caught up in everything, and I wasn’t thinking.”

You felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. “W-What are you saying?” you managed, voice barely above a whisper.

Lando finally looked at you, eyes glistening. “I accidentally slept with her. It was a one-time thing, I swear, then she called me last week—I don’t even know how she got my number, but she told me that she’s pregnant.

Pregnant.

The words hit you like a freight train. You stared at him, mind completely blank, unable to process what he had just said. Tears began to blur your vision, but you didn’t wipe them away.

“Lando…” you tried to speak up, but your voice cracked.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said, voice shaking. “I didn’t know what to do. All I could think about was how much I’ve hurt you. But I can’t let my kid grow up without a family. I know how much family means to you, to me. I have to be there for them.”

Your heart shattered into pieces. You could see how much Lando was struggling, the guilt etched into every line of his face. But the pain of his betrayal was unbearable.

“I don’t…I don’t have anything to say anymore, honestly,” you said finally, voice trembling. “Because you had already made your decision—you’re choosing them.”

Lando shook his head vehemently. “No! No, I’m not choosing anyone over you. You’re the love of my life. That hasn’t changed and never will.”

“Lando, you can’t have both,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t stay here knowing all of these. I can’t be a part of this.”

He reached out as if to touch you, but you recoiled. You couldn’t bear his touch right now. “Please love,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I love you. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“You already have,” you said softly, standing up and wiping your tears. “I won’t hold you back, Lando. You need to do what’s right for your child. They deserve a family, and I will not be the reason why they don’t have one.”

You walked to your shared bedroom, your movements mechanical as you began packing your things. Every item you placed in your suitcase felt like a dagger to your chest. This apartment had been your home, your safe haven, and now it was just a place you needed to escape from. Lando just stood in the doorway, watching you pack all of your things, his face pale and tear-streaked. He didn’t try to stop you—he knew that he couldn’t.

When you zipped up your suitcase and grabbed your bag, you turned to him one last time. “Take care of both of them,” you said, voice barely audible. “Be the father they need.

With that, you walked out of the apartment, out of the life you and Lando had built together. You had loved him for seven years, trusted him with every piece of your heart. But now, all you had was the emptiness of what could have been.

The crisp night air bit at your skin as you stood by the entrance of the apartment building, clutching the handle of your suitcase. Your ride to the airport was just a few minutes away, but the wait felt eternal. You stared blankly at the sidewalk, mind is a chaotic mess, the weight of everything that had happened tonight pressing heavily on your chest.

You heard familiar voices approaching before you saw them, their cheerful tones instantly recognizable. Quickly, you wiped at your cheeks, hoping your red-rimmed eyes wouldn’t give you away. Plastering on a smile, you turned towards Max and Kelly as they walked towards the entrance, hand in hand, their expressions bright despite the late hour.

“Hey! What are you doing out here so late?” Kelly asked, brows knitting in concern as she noticed the two large suitcases beside you.

You hesitated, forcing your smile to stay in place. “I, uh, have a family emergency,” you lied smoothly, voice steady even though your heart was pounding. “I need to head back home for a bit.”

Max tilted his head slightly, sharp blue eyes scanning you with the protective gaze you had come to know so well over the years. “Two large suitcases for just a quick trip? That seems a bit much,” he remarked lightly, though his tone carried a hint of suspicion.

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “It’s just…really complicated right now. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, so I packed extra, just in case.”

Kelly’s hand tightened on Max’s arm as she stepped closer to you, her concern evident. “Is Lando not home right now? Why didn’t you tell us earlier? We could’ve helped you pack, we can drive you to the airport.”

You shook your head quickly. “Lan’s already sleeping and I hate to wake him up, he just recently got back from his trip. I also didn’t want to bother you, I’ve already called a car, and it should be here any minute.”

They exchanged a look, clearly unconvinced but respectful enough not to press you further. “Well, we’re not leaving you out here alone,” Max said firmly. “We’ll wait with you until your ride gets here.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the determined set of his jaw told you it would all be just pointless. Instead, you nodded, grateful for their presence even as it made it harder to hold yourself together.

Kelly gave you a warm smile, trying to ease the tension. “It’s late, but P was asking about you earlier,” she said softly. “She’s been begging to have another day with her favorite Auntie.”

Your heart clenched at the mention of Penelope, and you forced your smile to widen. “I’ll miss her so much,” you said, voice thick despite your best efforts. “Tell her I’ll see her soon.”

Kelly’s brow furrowed slightly at your words, but before she could say anything, your ride had pulled up to the curb. Relief and dread washed over you in equal measure. Max then stepped forward immediately, grabbing your suitcases with ease.

“I’ll load these up for you,” he said, tone gruff but kind.

“Thank you,” you murmured, watching as he placed your suitcases in the trunk of the car.

When Max turned back, Kelly pulled you into a tight hug, her familiar perfume bringing a rush of bittersweet comfort. “Take care of yourself, okay?” she whispered. “Whatever’s going on, we’re here for you.”

You nodded against her shoulder, your throat too tight to respond. When she pulled away, Max had stepped forward, wrapping you in a hug that was strong and protective, just like he always was.

“Be back soon, okay? P will be missing her favorite Aunt.” he said, chuckling. “If you need anything, you call me or Kelly. No excuses.”

“I will,” you promised, though you knew that you wouldn’t.

As you stepped back, Kelly offered you a gentle smile. “When you get back, P will be so excited to see you again. You know how much she loves spending time with you.”

The lump in your throat grew, and you could only nod in response. You managed a faint smile as you climbed into the car, giving them one final wave.

“Safe travels,” Kelly called out as Max closed the door for you.

You watched them through the window, standing together on the curb, their figures illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. They waved as the car pulled away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wave back again. Instead, you turned your gaze forward, the city lights blurring through the tears that silently slid down your cheeks.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

When you finally arrived back home, the weight of the long hour of flight clung to you like a heavy fog. You dragged your suitcases through the familiar front door, exhaustion etched into every inch of your body. The warm, welcoming scent of your childhood home did little to comfort you, instead, it only amplified the ache in your chest. All you wanted was to collapse into your bed and wake up to a world where none of this had ever happened—a world where your heart wasn’t shattered into pieces. But this was your reality, as cruel as it was.

You definitely hadn’t anticipated seeing your older sister, Noelle, and her husband, Mike, in the living room, seated across from your mother, their laughter filling the space. The sound abruptly stopped when they noticed you standing in the doorway, your pale face and tired eyes a huge giveaway of the turmoil you tried so desperately to hide.

“What are you doing here?” Noelle asked, rising from her seatc brows knitting together in concern. “You didn’t tell us that you were coming home.”

Noelle’s brows knit together as she took in your disheveled appearance, her sharp eyes catching every detail—dark circles under your eyes, stiffness in your movements, and the forced smile you mustered.

“Yeah,” you replied quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I, uh, needed to come home for a bit.”

Your mother rose from her seat as well, concern etched into her features. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, gaze darting between you and the suitcases you had left by the door.

You hesitated, throat tightening. You had been dreading this moment, knowing full well how much your family adored Lando so much. They had welcomed him with open arms from the start, treating him as one of their own. Now, you were about to break their hearts almost as much as he had broken yours.

“It’s nothing,” you said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I just needed a change of scenery, that’s all.”

Noelle stood, arms crossed as she gave you a pointed look. “Don’t give me that kind of excuse. You don’t just show up unannounced looking like this for no reason. What really happened?”

You swallowed hard, avoiding Noelle’s gaze. “Lando and I broke up,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The whole room fell silent, the weight of your words sinking in. Your mother’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide with shock. “Oh, my darling sweetheart,” she breathed.

Noelle, however, was not so subdued. “What?” she exclaimed, voice rising. “What do you mean you broke up? What happened? Did he do something stupid?”

“No!” you said quickly, shaking your head. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” she pressed, tone sharp.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed. “We just…fell out of love. The both of us,” you said, hating the words even as you said then. “We’ve been together for so long, and I guess we just realized that we weren’t the same people years ago anymore. It didn’t make sense to keep on pretending, we’ll just end up hurting ourselves in the long run.”

Noelle’s eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced. “That doesn’t sound like Lando at all. The man adores you so much, even worships the ground you walk on.”

“He did,” you said softly, chest tightening. “And I adored him too. But people change, feelings change.”

Your mother stepped closer, her hands reaching for yours. “Are you sure this is what you wanted?” she asked gently.

You nodded, the lump in your throat growing. “It’s for the best,” you lied, voice cracking slightly.

Mike, who had been silent until now, placed a hand on Noelle’s shoulder. “If this is what she’s decided, we should respect it,” he said quietly, giving you a small, understanding nod.

Noelle just sighed, clearly torn between pressing you for further information and letting it go. Finally, she relented, though her expression was still skeptical.

“I just don’t want you to regret this,” she said, voice more softer now. “You two were so good together.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep you from breaking down. “I’ll be okay, eventually,” you said, words hollow.

Your mother pulled you into a tight embrace, her warmth briefly soothing the ache in your chest. “Whatever happens, we’re always here for you,” she murmured.

“Thanks, mommy,” you whispered, blinking back tears.

As you pulled away, your sister gave you a long look, her expression unreadable. “If he hurt you—” she started, but you cut her off.

“He didn’t,” you said firmly, voice steady despite the storm inside you. “It just didn’t work out. That’s all.”

Noelle still didn’t look convinced, but she nodded, clearly sensing that there’s more to it, and you didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Alright,” she said quietly. “But if you ever want to talk, I’m here, okay? We’re all here.”

You gave her a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes like it used to. “Thank you,” you said, words barely audible.

Excusing yourself, you retreated to your old bedroom, closing the door behind you gently and sinking onto the comfort of your bed. The familiar surroundings brought no comfort, only a stark reminder of the life you had left behind. While you lay down, staring at the ceiling, the tears finally came, silent and unrelenting.

You had still protected Lando from your family’s anger, even though he did not deserve any of it, and now, you were left to pick up the pieces alone.

The Nausea hits you like clockwork every morning. You found yourself rushing to the bathroom, stomach twisting in protest against seemingly nothing. It had started a few weeks ago, and though you had initially dismissed it as a lingering flu or perhaps the stress with work finally catching up to you, it was becoming harder to ignore. Rest didn’t seem to help you, but you assured yourself that it wasn’t that serious. Besides, you have work to focus on, and that was enough to keep your mind occupied, most of the time.

Two months had already passed since you had left Monaco for good, and life had begun to settle into a new rhythm. Yes, the ache in your chest was still there, but it had been dulled into something manageable. You were slowly rebuilding yourself, piece by piece, though the nausea was an unwelcome distraction.

It was a normal afternoon, while you were curled up on the beanbag chair in your bedroom after a long and tiring day, your phone buzzed. The caller ID that was displayed on the screen made your breath catch for a moment—Kelly. You hesitated before answering, already bracing yourself for the conversation. Her face appeared on the screen, bright and concerned.

“Finally, I caught you!” she said with a smile, though her tone was tinged with worry. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

You shook your head, chuckling and offered her a small smile. “I’m so sorry, Kelly. Things have been so busy with me lately.”

Kelly’s brow furrowed slightly as she studied your face. “You look tired. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, it’s just a silly flu,” you said quickly, but the faint edge in your voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said gently. “Max and I found out about it already, about you and Lando.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “Oh.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked, expression softening. “We would’ve been there for you. You’ve been through this all alone.”

You sighed, your shoulders sagging. “I didn’t want to drag anyone else into the mess, and I didn’t even know what to say.”

Kelly’s voice grew firmer. “You didn’t have to say anything, we would’ve understood. Max is furious with Lando, you know. So is Carlos. I even have to break the two of them away from Lando.”

Your heart sank at the thought. “Please don’t be mad at him. It’s not worth it.”

Kelly shook her head, lips pressing into a thin line. “It is worth it. What Lando did to you was unforgivable. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured, though the words felt hollow. “I’ll move on, eventually.”

Kelly’s expression softened again, and she leaned closer to the camera. “I just wish you’d let us help you. You know we love you, right? You’ve always been family to us.”

“I know,” you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes.

Her face brightened slightly. “But speaking of family, someone’s been dying to talk to you!”

Before you could respond, the screen shifted, and Penelope’s little face appeared, her eyes lighting up when she saw you. “AUNTIE!” she exclaimed, voice high with excitement.

”Hi, P!” You said, heart aching at the sight of her.

“I miss you so much!” she said, pouting slightly. “When are you coming back? Mommy says you’re not in Monaco anymore.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain. “I miss you too, darling. I just…I had to be somewhere else for a while.”

“But you’ll come back, right?” she asked, her big eyes staring at you expectantly.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “We’ll see, P. For now, you have to be good for your mommy and Maxie, okay?”

“I’m always good!” she declared, puffing out her chest.

Kelly’s voice chimed in from the background. “That’s debatable,” she teased, earning a giggle from Penelope.

You couldn’t help but smile, even as your chest tightened. “You’re the best, P. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay!” she said brightly before turning to Kelly. “Mommy, can we call Auntie again tomorrow?”

Kelly returned to the screen, giving you a knowing look. “We’ll let her rest for now, P. But yes, we’ll call Auntie again soon.”

“Promise?” Penelope asked, her eyes wide.

“Promise,” Kelly said, smiling before turning back to you. “Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need anything, anything, just call me.”

You nodded. “Thank you so much, Kelly. I will.”

After ending your facetime call with Kelly, you stumbled into the bathroom, your stomach churning violently. The moment you stepped inside, you collapsed in front of the toilet, heaving uncontrollably. It felt as though your insides were twisting, every muscle tensing in protest. When it finally subsided, you shakily wiped your mouth, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You looked pale—paler than usual, and eyes were bloodshot from the strain.

It took you a couple of minutes to compose yourself before heading to the kitchen, hoping the water would help settle your spinning head. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, you poured the water, but as you lifted it to your lips, another wave of dizziness hit you. This time, it was stronger. Your grip faltered, and the glass slipped from your hand, shattering loudly as it hit the floor.

The sharp noise brought Noelle and Mike running into the kitchen. They froze when they saw you swaying on your feet, barely managing to stay upright. You blinked, trying to focus, but everything around you was growing hazier. Before you could say anything, your legs gave way beneath you, and you crumpled to the floor, your vision blackening as you began to lose consciousness. Noelle was by your side in an instant, her hands gentle but urgent as she checked your pulse.

“Don’t worry, she’s alive,” Noelle muttered, voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. “Mike, call an ambulance now!”

Mike didn’t hesitate, rushing to grab his phone and calling for help. You could hear Mike’s voice in the background, muffled and frantic as he spoke to the operator.

“Yes, we need an ambulance,” Mike said, tone clipped, almost too calm for the situation. “My sister-in-law collapsed, and we need help immediately.”

Noelle’s voice cut through your haze, trying to keep you steady. “Come on, stay with me, okay? Just hold on.”

You couldn’t respond, couldn’t even make a sound, but you could hear them both, voices blending with the rush of adrenaline in the air. Mike’s footsteps moved swiftly, his voice growing more distant as he spoke with the ambulance on the phone.

The minutes that followed felt like hours. The sound of the ambulance siren grew louder, and relief flooded Noelle’s face as the paramedics rushed into the house. They quickly assessed the situation, asking Noelle questions about your symptoms and recent health conditions.

“She’s been experiencing dizziness for weeks now,” Noelle explained. “She’s stubborn, didn’t want to see a doctor. This morning she was nauseous, and now she’s fainted.”

The paramedics nodded, lifting you onto the stretcher carefully. Noelle and Mike followed closely as they carried you out to the ambulance. “I’m coming with her to the hospital,” Noelle said firmly, climbing into the back of the ambulance without hesitation.

Mike stayed behind, watching the ambulance doors close with a worried expression. “Alright, I’ll be informing your mother when she arrives, but call me as soon as you know something,” he said to Noelle before they drove off.

Inside the ambulance, Noelle held your hand tightly, her fingers trembling against your own. “You’re going to be fine,” she said, though her voice was thick with concern. “Just breathe, okay? We’re almost there.”

You couldn’t focus on what Noelle was saying. The world had gone dark around you, only the pulse of your own heartbeat reminding you that you were still there, still fighting to stay conscious.

The steady beeping of the machines was the first thing you registered as you slowly opened your eyes, the sterile smell of the hospital room making everything feel surreal. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent light, your gaze landed on your sister, Noelle, sitting in one of the chairs beside your bed, her expression a mixture of worry and relief when she noticed you stirring.

“Noelle,” you croaked, voice hoarse from sleep and dryness.

She shot up almost instantly, coming to your side and helping you adjust into a sitting position in the hospital bed. Her hands were gentle but firm as she propped a pillow behind your back.

“Hey, take it easy, okay?” she said softly. She reached for a bottle of water on the bedside table, unscrewing the cap before handing it to you. “Here, drink up. Small sips.”

You followed her instructions, taking slow, careful sips, the cool water soothing your parched throat. “What happened? Why am I in the hospital?” you asked weakly, mind still foggy.

“You fainted in the kitchen,” Noelle explained, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You scared the hell out of us. Mike called the ambulance, and I came with you here. Mom and Mike are both on their way. They’ll be here soon.”

Before you could respond, there was a knock at the door, a doctor entered, her expression professional but kind. Noelle immediately stepped aside, letting her approach you.

“I’m glad that you’re awake now, my dear,” she began, smiling at you. “We’ve run some tests to determine the cause of your fainting and other symptoms.”

You nodded slowly, stomach churning with apprehension. Noelle moved closer to your side, her presence grounding you.

“We’ve reviewed your results,” she continued, glancing at her clipboard before meeting your eyes. “The dizziness, nausea, and vomiting you’ve been experiencing for the past weeks are all consistent with early pregnancy symptoms. Congratulations, you’re seven weeks pregnant!”

Pregnant. Pregnant.

For a moment, the words did not register. The hospital room seemed to grow impossibly still, the doctor’s voice fading into the background as you processed the news. Seven weeks. The timeline clicked into place, and your heart sank as realization hit. Seven weeks pregnant. You could hear the faint ringing in your ears, a sharp contrast to the quiet gasp from Noelle beside you.

“I…I’m sorry, what?” you managed to stammer, voice shaking.

“You’re pregnant, dear,” the doctor repeated gently. “Seven weeks along. Your vitals look good, but it’s important to start prenatal care as soon as possible. We’ve referred you to an OB-GYN who will guide you through the process and answer any questions you might have.”

You nodded numbly, unable to form any coherent response. The doctor continued to explain what you should expect in the coming weeks—dietary recommendations, plenty of rest, and the importance of regular check-ups. But her words felt very distant, as if you were hearing them through a fog.

When the doctor finally left, you were left staring blankly at the sterile white wall, the weight of the revelation crushing you. Seven weeks. You did the math in your head, mind racing. By now, you know that the woman Lando had gotten pregnant would be around three months into pregnancy.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, the enormity of the situation was starting to overwhelm you. You were carrying Lando’s child. That man had broken and shattered your heart into pieces, and who had chosen someone else, was now bound to you in a way that you could not escape.

“Noelle,” you whispered, voice breaking.

She knelt beside the bed, taking your trembling hands in hers. “I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m here, okay?” she said softly, her tone steady and reassuring.

“I don’t know what to do,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. How am I supposed to handle this?”

Noelle’s grip on your hands tightened slightly, eyes full of concern. “I don’t have all the answers,” she admitted, “but you don’t have to go through this alone. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be here for you—Mom and Mike, too. We’ll all figure this out together, okay?”

Two years had already passed, and your life was a world away from where it had been. Astrid, your little ray of sunshine, was turning two today. She was the center of your universe, your whole life, her giggles filling every corner of the house you had worked so hard to call your own. It was a beautiful home, just three doors away from your mother’s home, ensuring that Astrid was always surrounded by the love and warmth of your family.

Noelle and Mike, ever the doting aunt and uncle, spoiled her endlessly. They brought over toys, books, and clothes—sometimes more than you thought Astrid needed, but you couldn’t deny the happiness on Astrid’s face when they arrived with surprise in hand.

It’s true that your pregnancy and the early days of motherhood had not been easy, but you were able to survive. More than that, you thrived. With a promotion to a top position at work and a comfortable life for you and Astrid, you finally felt at peace. The past—Lando, was no longer a wound, but now a distant memory you had learned to accept. Your family also had long stopped asking questions about the details of your breakup, and while they knew Lando was Astrid’s father, they never dwelled on it. Astrid had all the love she needed, and that was what mattered most.

But there was one part of your life you had not reconciled yet—Max and Kelly. Despite keeping in touch with Kelly through regular facetime calls, you had managed to keep Astrid a secret. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, it was just too complicated to explain everything. It was already enough that they found out what Lando had done that caused your breakup.

However, when Kelly had mentioned that they would be spending their vacation in your home country and would be arriving the day before Astrid’s second birthday, you had a window of opportunity. It was time to take a step forward. So you had invited them to what you described as a simple gathering at your home. You didn’t explicitly tell them that it would be Astrid’s birthday party—just that it would be a chance to catch up and spend time together.

As the day drew closer, you found yourself torn between excitement and anxiety. What would they say when they realized the gathering that you had talked about was actually a celebration for your daughter? Would they feel hurt that you had kept Astrid a secret for so long?

These thoughts lingered as you finalized the decorations, baked Astrid’s favorite cake, and prepared the house for your guests. But when you looked at Astrid, happily playing with her toys in the living room, the doubt began to fade. This was your life now—a life filled with love and laughter, even if it was different from what you had once imagined.

The backyard was a colorful dream, adorned with streamers, balloons, and a banner that read, Happy 2nd Birthday! and Astrid’s favorite colors painted every corner of the space, and the laughter of children filled the air as they played games and ran around laughing. Astrid herself was the picture of happiness, twirling in her pretty dress, a bright smile on her face as she clung to her grandmother’s hand.

You excused yourself from the backyard, your hands brushing against your dress nervously as you stepped back into the kitchen to double-check the desserts. Rows of cupcakes sat neatly on the counter, each one topped with swirls of frosting and sprinkles. You picked one up, turning it slightly to make sure everything was perfect. Then the doorbell rang.

Your heart skipped a beat, a wave of nerves rushing through you. It had to be Max, Kelly, and Penelope. You wiped your hands on a towel, took a deep breath, and walked to the front door, steadying yourself before opening it. The moment you opened the door, cheerful shouts of ‘surprise!’ had greeted you. Kelly was the first to throw her arms around you, pulling you into a warm hug.

“It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed, stepping back as Max swooped in for a hug.

“You’ve been hiding!” Max teased lightly, squeezing your shoulder before stepping aside to let Penelope in.

“Hi Auntie!” Penelope chirped, small arms wrapping tightly around your waist as she hugged you with all her might.

You bent down to her level, pulling her into a proper hug. “Hi, darling. I missed you so much!”

Penelope pulled back, her face beaming. “I missed you too, Auntie! Can I see your house?”

Before you could respond, the sound of children’s laughter drifted in from the backyard, catching their attention. Kelly tilted her head curiously.

“What’s going on back there?” she asked, brows furrowed. “That sounds like a lot of kids.”

Max glanced at you, an eyebrow raised. “Is this the simple gathering you mentioned?”

A nervous smile tugged at your lips as you stepped back, gesturing for them to follow. “Come on, follow me.”

You led them through the hallway and out through the glass doors that lead to the backyard, where the yard was buzzing with activity. Children were playing games, some of them are having the time of their life on the bouncy castle, parents chatted near the tables of food, and Astrid was in the middle of it all, her laughter carrying above the noise.

Penelope gasped in delight. “Can I please go play?” she asked, bouncing on her toes as she looked up at Max and Kelly.

Kelly nodded with a smile. “Of course, go ahead.”

Penelope dashed off, her excitement blending seamlessly with the other children. Kelly and Max, however, stood frozen, their eyes scanning the scene. It wasn’t long before they realized that this was not just any gathering.

“Is this…” Kelly began, voice trailing off.

“A birthday party?” Max finished for her, tone laced with confusion.

You nodded slowly, your smile nervous. “Yes. Actually,” you glanced at Astrid, who was now in your mother’s arms, laughing as your mother tickled her sides. “It’s her birthday party.”

Their confusion deepened as they followed your gaze. Max opened his mouth to speak, but Kelly beat him to it. “Her?” she asked, voice soft, almost uncertain.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over to your mother and gently took Astrid from her arms. Astrid immediately snuggled into your shoulder, her tiny hands clutching at your dress as she peeked at the newcomers. Turning back to Max and Kelly, you smiled, though your heart was racing.

“Guys, this is Astrid,” you said softly. “My daughter.”

For a moment, there was only silence as Max and Kelly processed your words. Kelly’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide, while Max stared at you, his expression a mix of shock and something deeper.

“You have a daughter?” Kelly finally asked, voice trembling slightly.

You nodded, holding Astrid a little tighter. “I do.”

Max’s voice was careful, almost cautious. “Where’s her father?”

The question hung heavy in the air, heavy and unspoken truths lingering just beneath the surface. You looked down at Astrid, avoiding Max’s gaze as you shifted your weight uncomfortably.

“He’s…not in the picture anymore,” you said quietly.

Max’s eyes narrowed slightly, jaw tightening. It was clear he had pieced everything together, but decided not to press further. Instead, his gaze softened as he looked at Astrid, who was now peering curiously at him. Kelly stepped forward, her initial shock melting into warmth.

“Can I hold her?” she asked gently.

You nodded, carefully handing Astrid over. Kelly cradled her as if she had been waiting for this moment forever, her face lighting up as Astrid stared at her with wide, curious eyes.

“She’s so beautiful,” Kelly murmured, voice thick with emotion.

Max crouched down slightly to Astrid’s level, his serious expression softening. “Hey there, little one,” he said, playfully covering his eyes with his hands and then revealing them. “Peekaboo!”

Astrid blinked at him, tiny lips began curling into a smile as Max covered his face with his hand again and revealed it with a loud ‘boo!’ Astrid’s laughter was immediate and infectious, filling the air and making Max grin wider.

“She likes you,” Kelly said with a laugh, glancing at Max as she bounced Astrid gently.

Max looked up, his expression a mix of amusement and something more tender. “What can I say? Kids love me.”

Penelope had run up to you with little Astrid in tow, face glowing with excitement. “Auntie, can Astrid play with me? I promise that I’ll take care of her,” she said, her little hands clasped together as she gave you the most earnest look.

You smiled, crouching down to their level. “Alright,” you said gently, brushing a strand of hair out of Astrid’s face. “But remember, she’s still very small, so be careful with her, okay?”

“I promise!” Penelope chirped. “Come on Astrid, let’s play!” she took Astrid’s hand and led her back towards the group of children.

Once they were settled, you turned to Max and Kelly, who were waiting nearby, their expressions a mix of curiosity and seriousness. You gestured towards the patio table, and the three of you moved to sit down. For a brief moment, there was an awkward silence, only broken by the distant sound of children laughing.

It was Max who spoke first. “So,” he began, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “are you going to tell Lando about Astrid?”

“No.” you said firmly, meeting his gaze.

Kelly’s brows furrowed. “No?” she repeated, voice a mix of confusion and concern. “You don’t plan on telling him that he has a daughter?”

“Telling him that he has a daughter is not included in my plans,” you said quietly, glancing briefly at Astrid, who was now sitting on the grass with Penelope, giggling as they played.

Max exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “But why?” he asked, voice steady but tinged with disbelief. “Don’t you think he has the right to know?”

You looked at Max, expression calm but resolute. “He had already made his choice and I made mine,” you said softly. “By the time I found out that I was pregnant, he was already committed to building a life with someone else—for their child. I’m not that ignorant, I’ve seen the articles, Max. It’s clear as daylight that he’s happy with them, he’s being the father that the child needs.”

Max sighed. “This isn’t about the articles or public perception. It’s about Astrid. She has the right to know who her father is, and Lando has a right to know about her.”

Kelly nodded in agreement with what had Max just said. “And what happens when she grows up and starts asking questions?”

“I’ll tell Astrid,” you said. “I’ll tell her when the time is right, I’ll explain everything to her. But for now, I’m protecting her. I don’t want her to feel like she was a second thought or an obligation. I don’t want to make her feel unwanted.”

Max shook his head slightly. “It’s not fair to Astrid, or to Lando,” he said, voice low. “He deserves to know. He deserves the chance to be a part of her life.”

“And what if Lando doesn’t want to be a part of her life, Max?” you said, voice cracking slightly and gripping the edge of the table. “What if yes, I ended up telling him, and he rejected her? What if I ruin the good thing he has now, for nothing? I’m not going to be the person who will bring chaos to my daughter’s life by trying to force something that might not even work, and I most definitely won't be the one who will tear Lando’s life apart just to ease my conscience.”

Kelly reached out, placing a hand gently on yours. “I understand that you’re scared,” she said softly. “And I understand why you’ve made your choice. But you don’t have to do this alone. Whatever you decide, we’ll support you. But please, just think about it, okay?”

You nodded, though you knew that your decision was firm and wouldn’t change. “Thank you,” you said quietly, looking between Max and Kelly. “I just need you both to trust me on this one. Trust that I’m doing what’s best for Astrid.”

Max hesitated, then finally nodded. “We’ll be keeping this just between the three of us,” he said, though there was a note of reluctance in his voice. “But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find us.”

Kelly smiled faintly, her grip on your hand tightening briefly before she let go. “Astrid is lucky to have you as her mother,” she said, voice warm. “She’s amazing and gorgeous, you know. She’s already so full of life.”

You smiled softly at Kelly’s words. “She is,” you said. “She really is.”

Glancing back towards the yard, you watched Astrid and Penelope play together, the sound of Astrid’s uncontrollable laughter filled the air, warming your heart in a way that words could never even describe. Her happiness was infectious, an important reminder of everything good in your life despite the path it had taken to get where you are now. But as your eyes lingered on her, there was a familiar ache that settled deep in your chest.

You couldn’t deny it—Astrid’s features were very unmistakable. Her eyes, so full of wonder and innocence, were a mirror image of Lando’s. Every now and then, when she turned her head a certain way or smiled just so, it was like seeing a glimpse of Lando again. The resemblance was undeniable, and it only grew stronger as Astrid got older. It was a bittersweet reality you carried with you every day.

Yet, despite the pain that came with those reminders, you were happy. Truly, deeply happy. Astrid was surrounded by love—a love so abundant that it filled every corner of her little world. She didn’t need anything else, not when you, your whole family, and everyone who cherished her. That love was enough, it had to be enough.

Letting Lando go was not easy. It had taken every ounce of strength you had to accept that the life you once imagined with him was not meant to be. But you had done it, you had learned to let him go. You had made peace with the fact that you were not the one he chose, and the woman you would never be was the one who was not his.

Someday, you knew, the time might come when you were ready to tell Lando about Astrid, ready to introduce him to the child you both brought into this world. But that day was not today. For now, you would let him continue living the life he had chosen, with the person he had chosen. You wished him nothing but happiness, even if it wasn’t with you.

You also hoped that Lando would one day find everything he was searching for, that he would feel fulfilled and content in the life he was building. Even if it hurts, you wanted that for him, and while he was busy living that life, the daughter you both would not raise together would still be here—waiting for him, even if he didn’t know it yet.

The breakup, heartache, and the choices you made were not what you had wanted, but they were what you needed. Sometimes, it’s hard to accept the fact that love is not enough to keep two people together, and that’s okay. It didn’t make the love you once shared with Lando any less real.

But for now, everything else could wait.

[angelfic]

theodore nott x reader

warnings — kissing, kinda pg-13, mentions of drinking/smoking the usual stuff blah blah etc etc

a/n; truly thought another theo fic written by me would never see the light of day but here we are <3 this was meant to be a tiny drabble btw I hate myself!!!! NOT PROOFREAD!

THEODORE NOTT is shy.

he doesn’t understand why people find him intimidating. well, actually, that’s not completely true. he knows that people avoid him when he’s with his friends because they’re doing stupid shit like when enzo and draco are hexing each other for fun. or when mattheo starts scrapping out in the corridor because someone looked at him wrong and blaise is egging him on.

and, okay, maybe theo will jump in at some point too. in his defence, it’s only when the other guy’s friend starts in on him first.

but his friends aside, theo doesn’t understand why people think he’s intimidating when he’s by himself. it’s not his fault his resting face is daunting.

he wishes he could change it sometimes. girls will still come up to him at parties in the common room once he’s had a couple of drinks, but at the risk of becoming an alcoholic, he can’t be that loose all of the time.

theo wishes more than ever that he could cast some sort of spell on himself when you talk to him. you share a few classes, much to theo’s delight, but it’s not like he’s taking advantage of the fact.

every time you speak to him, his brain short circuits and he feels like a piece of muggle technology being fried by the wards of hogwarts. sometimes it’ll be something small like when you ask him to pass over the pot of lacewing flies in potions and he just stares at you.

“uhm, we’ve run out of them on our table,” you explain after a few seconds of silence, giving him a little smile. you point to the ingredients and raise your brows. “so…?”

he knows for a fact that his face is set in a blank expression that probably looks pissed off, especially when he catches sight of your friend at the table next door who practically looks concerned for your safety.

but his ears are burning and he feels like someone’s electrocuted him when he finally hands over the pot without looking at you and your finger brushes against his for a nanosecond.

“thanks,” you say, sincerely, a smile still gracing your lips as he offers you a stiff nod. you act as though you just had a completely normal interaction and it has theo stressing out because what if you see right through him?

another time, you’re late to history of magic and there are two seats left. one near the front and the other next to theo. you rush over and take out your things, barely registering who you’re sitting with, but theo is hyper-aware. no one ever willingly sits next to him aside from his friends.

once you’re settled, it appears that the rush of being late has left you quickly due to the monotone voice of professor bins and instead you’re fighting to stay awake. theo would know, since he keeps throwing glances your way.

at one point professor binns drones on about known cases of dragon pox and when he starts to list the symptoms, including a green and purple rash, theo mutters under his breath to mattheo, “much rather that than having to sit here for another bloody hour.”

his eyes flick over to you, surprised when you let out an unexpected snort of laughter. mattheo, having fallen asleep on his desk unbeknownst to theo, is oblivious to theo’s comment. instead, you’re the one covering your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing too hard and theo physically can’t stop his lips from quirking up. he made you laugh.

later that day, he overhears your friend apologising for not saving you a seat in class. “i can’t believe you went and sat next to nott. i’m surprised he didn’t tell you to piss off.”

you immediately shush her, and your next words make him feel like he just ran a marathon. “i still don’t know what you mean. he’s nice… and funny,” you say simply, shrugging.

he repeats the words in his head over and over until the next time you talk to him, which happens to be at a party in the slytherin common room.

outside the party, actually. theo goes to sit right outside the common room entrance with his cup and a cigarette, partly to smoke and partly to get away from some of the girls who were flocking to him and his friends after they had all had a few drinks.

he’s exhaling a puff of smoke right as you’re quietly exiting the party to take a seat next to him and as soon as he spots you, he accidentally inhales the smoke the wrong way and coughs.

“sorry,” he mutters, waving the smoke away before it can go near you. he feels stupid and decides to just dump the thing into his cup before setting it aside. alcohol makes him looser, but it doesn’t make him completely immune to you.

“it’s fine,” you smile, crossing your legs as you settle on the ground next to him. “how come you’re out here every time there’s a party?”

“too loud,” he explains, letting his head rest against the wall as he starts to feel the buzz kicking in. “that, and to get away from all my adoring fans of course.”

this makes you laugh and theo, in his tipsy state, adorns a lazy grin at the sound, not bothering to hide that he’s looking at you.

“i don’t think there was a single girl who didn’t try chatting you or your friends up in there,” you shake your head, amused.

theo swallows, noticing the way you’re fiddling with the hem of your dress and he wonders if it bothers you. he blames the vodka for making him so bold when he says, “you and your friends didn’t.”

“my friends are scared of you,” you reply, raising your eyebrows as if to ask him if he’s surprised. “they think you’re always glaring at me.”

“nah,” he mumbles, looking at you through slightly hooded eyes. the dimly lit corridor makes your skin glow in a way that has him feeling a bit in awe, and he finds himself blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “have they considered i’m staring at you because i think you’re fit?”

he promptly wants to punch himself in the face.

weirdly enough, you don’t look taken aback. you tilt your head as if pleasantly surprised, and your lips quirk up into the ghost of a smirk. “i have to say that explains a lot.”

“how so?” he asks, hesitant to know your answer. his heart stutters when you move closer to him and get up slightly to crouch beside him. your fingers reach out to tuck some of his hair behind his ear and he freezes, utterly still.

“well,” you say softly, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. “every time you speak to me the tips of your ears turn pink.”

and then you get up and leave and theo thinks his face has gone numb. he doesn’t remember much else from that evening, but the next morning his friends are asking him why he looks like he wants to kill someone.

he doesn’t know how to tell them that the someone he’s wanting to kill is himself for telling you he thinks you’re fit.

channeling the embarrassment into something useful, he tries to focus all his energy on the quidditch match he’s in against ravenclaw.

it goes by in a blur and somehow they’ve won, and theo thanks his lucky stars that they have because draco would surely have killed him for throwing the match due to being distracted.

the others run off quickly to the common room to celebrate, and theo tells them he’ll be right there, allowing himself to linger in the changing rooms for some peace and quiet before the inevitable celebrations.

“hey.”

he spins around, still in uniform with sweat dampening his hair and his green eyes fall on you in surprise. “uh. hi. what are you doing here?” he asks, uncertainly after the events of the night before. he hopes to Godric his ears are covered right now.

“just came to congratulate you,” you say with a playful smile.

theo’s brows furrow and his shoulders involuntarily slump slightly. he isn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. “oh.”

you push yourself off the doorframe and enter the room, slowly walking closer to him. he’s never been more grateful for deodorant in his life.

“and one more thing,” you add, inching closer still.

“mhm?” theo is practically holding his breath in anticipation, and when you reach out to gently touch his arm, he stiffens for a second.

“i think you’re fit too.”

a startled laugh leaves him at your whispered words and instead of saying thank you, he finds himself stepping forward to clear the air and say what he’s been thinking since the party.

“i don’t think you’re fit,” he starts, face dropping when your smile falters. “shit, no, i mean you are. fuck,” he breathes out, dragging a hand down his face.

you take in the faint blush creeping up his neck that definitely wasn’t there right after he finished the match and allow him a second to gather himself.

“you’re beautiful,” he stammers, closing the gap between the two of you in earnest. he faintly registers the fact that he’s practically towering over you and leans down in an attempt to be less intimidating. “like, crazy beautiful. i meant to say that yesterday instead of sounding like an absolute twat, but i mean, what else is new when i’m around you-“

you cut him off by grabbing him by the collar of his quidditch jersey and pulling him down to press your lips against his in a firm, unyielding kiss. he stiffens, hands hovering uncertainly at his sides for a moment as though he’s frozen, but it isn’t long before he’s reacting, as though he’s suddenly woken up.

his hands find your waist immediately, pulling you into him and straightening up slightly to deepen the kiss, pulling you up slightly to stand on your tiptoes as your lips slot against his.

theo breaks the kiss to meet your eyes with his own wide ones, rushing out words between kisses. “i don’t think you understand just how long…” he exhales into your mouth, kissing you firmly. “i’ve been wanting to do…” he nips at your bottom lip, making you gasp. “this,” he finishes, grinning into the kiss when you melt against him.

theo takes the opportunity to reach his hands down to your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you over to the wall where he’s suddenly kissing you with a new confidence, moving to pepper kisses down your jaw and onto your neck.

you tuck a finger under his chin to lift his face up to yours where you match his grin, your lips swollen and eyes glazed over. he’s never seen a more beautiful sight.

“took you long enough.”

a/n cont.; I hate this soooo bad it was meant to be a silly little drabble and now it’s a block of uncapitalised mess but I’d put too much time into it (less than a day) so here u are I GUESS. take a shot every time I write a kiss that starts exactly that way

[ravenslvt]

fucking your ex boyfriend in the bathroom of a party.

☆ multiple x f!reader ☆

cw: smut, mirror sex, public sex, rough sex, hate sex (sort of), tension, alcohol, oral f! receiving, v fingering, spanking, pet names, praise, sex with feelings, unprotected sex

you don’t know how your bestfriend managed to rope you into coming to this party, all you did know is you wanted to get plastered while she found someone to hook up with.

you held onto her for dear life as you made your way through groups of people. mostly strangers, but you saw some familiar faces. you started to feel a bit nervous when you noticed some eyes roaming your outfit. maybe you should’ve worn a longer skirt…

your bestfriend’s eyes immediately spotted a pretty girl across the room, she gives you an apologetic smile. you roll your eyes.

“just go” you sigh. at least someone would be getting some action tonight. you make your way to the kitchen where there were bottles apon bottles layed out on the counter. you grab one of the disposable cups, pouring yourself a mixed drink before downing it. the liquor bringing a comforting burn down your throat.

suddenly, you felt a cold chill in the room. you look around, there were no windows or doors open. until finally, your eyes immediately draw to a pair of familiar ones. oh great, he’s walking over. you turn around, pretending you didn’t notice him, hoping he’ll walk past you.

“oh, c’mon. acting like you didn’t see me?” he leans against the counter next to you, a drink in his own hand. fuck, he still wore the same cologne. the smell almost made you dizzy. he was wearing an unfamiliar jacket, it looked new.

his name rolls off your tounge in a harsh greeting, taking another swig of your drink. he gives a lopsided smile. “still mad at me, pretty?” he takes your empty cup, refilling it for you the way he knew you always liked it. you give him a glare. he puts his arms up in defense. his body looked bigger, more defined. he was clearly working out more since you two broke up.

you snatched your cup back. if you were going to be forced into this conversation, you might as well be drunk.

“why are you here?” you ask, your eyes never leaving his own. he was drawing you in without even trying.

“i was invited. why are you here?” he pokes your shoulder with his pointer finger.

you just point to your best friend across the room, who was now making out with the cute girl from earlier. he huffs out a small chuckle. “that girl never rests, does she.” he comments. you just shake your head, “no she does not.” you sigh, another swig.

his eyes go back to you. more specifically, your outfit. you had a new top on, he’d never seen it before. he’d have remembered seeing such a pretty shirt on you before. and of course, you wore your favorite mini skirt. the one he always loved you wearing.

“this is cute, wear this for me hmm?” he smirks, his fingers playing with the bottom hem of the skirt. you swat his hand. he was the one who bought it for you. almost fucking you in the dressing room when you tried it on after doing a little spin for him.

“no… i just had nothing else to wear.” your face flushes. you didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or from the fact you were both thinking about the times you’d sit on his lap in this skirt, panties off while you bounced on his cock.

god, he loved that skirt.

you could feel yourself clench around nothing just thinking about it. he gets a little closer when he notices your flushed state, his fingers drumming against the table filled with alcohol. his damned fingers that knew every part of your body.

ok, you were definitely a little drunk, or maybe you were just stupid.

your back slams against the door of the bathroom, the blasting music muffled from the small enclosed room.

your lips met in a hungry, bruising kiss, tongues fighting for dominance. his large hands gripped your waist, your head forced against the wood. he moves one of his hands to shove between your thighs under your skirt, his fingers digging into your panties, making you whine into his mouth when he pinches your clit.

“fuck, this wet already? missed me that much, sweetheart?” he mumbles into your mouth, pulling away to pull the flimsy fabric down your legs with his free hand. of course you wore your favorite panties, the ones he bought especially for you. the sight made him groan.

“i’m not your-“

“i wasn’t talking to you.” he stares directly at your slick pussy. great, now he was talking straight to your cunt.

you look at him with glossy eyes as he kneels down, kissing down your thighs. you hook your fingers into the waistband of your skirt, but he gives your thigh a slap. “keep it on. i wanna see you get fucked in this pretty little skirt again.” he practically growls as he gives your thighs a few more kisses and bites, marking you up.

“want everyone to see you still belong to me.” he sucks marks into your upper thighs, placing a few where your little skirt couldn’t cover.

you mewl his name when his tounge delves into your sopping pussy, his fingers pulling your folds apart to get more access. your hands grip his hair for some stability as he laps you, his tounge switching from flicking your sensitive clit to prodding at your tight hole.

he replaces his mouth with his fingers, pumping two into your cunt as he suctions his lips onto your bud, making you bite your lip to prevent yourself from screaming out, almost drawing blood.

“fuckk!” his long fingers hit deep inside of you, his digits shifting between thrusts and curling inside. your legs shook, hands gripping his hair for dear life. giving him a particularly hard tug, he groans into your cunt, the vibrations making you let out a moan.

the mixture of stimulations had you on the edge, he knew you were about to cum.

time almost seems to slow as he feels you clench around his fingers, your eyes flutter shut, gripping his hair for dear life as pools of fire seep low in your abdomen. his fingers continue to pump into you as you cum, wetness dripping down his chin and wrist.

it was probably obvious you hadn’t fucked anyone since you two broke up the way your pussy responded so well to him.

still, he doesn’t pull away, addicted to the taste of you. he was completely lost in your cunt until you pushed at his head, whining his name. he reluctantly pulls away, giving your cute clit a few more kisses before parting.

you both pant, his face glistening in your slick. you almost moan at the sight.

“you taste even better than i remember, baby.” his hands sooth down your thighs.

“don’t call me that.” you heavily breathe. he just chuckles, standing up. his firm hands grab your ass, giving it a firm smack, making you yelp.

“face the mirror. wanna watch you take my dick.” he pats your hip, encouraging you. you obligated, finally seeing yourself in the mirror. your lip gloss was completely smeared, making you pout a little. until your ex boyfriend comes up behind you, his hard on pressing against your ass. his hand wrapped around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder as your eyes meet in the reflection.

his other hand reaches to wipe the smeared lip gloss, cleaning it up for you. his fingers tap your lips impatiently, seeking enterence. your eyes never broke contact. you open your pretty little mouth, his two fingers sliding in. you groaned as you tasted yourself on them. he grinded himself against your rear, hiking your skirt above your hips.

“gonna let me fuck this messy pussy?” his fingers enter deeper into your mouth, almost making you choke. you nod, swirling your tounge around his digets.

“mhmph” you mumble around them.

“gotta tell me how much you missed me first.” he teases, removing his fingers to slowly undo the button of his pants. you roll your eyes.

“just fuck me-“

smack

your ass stings, you were sure there was gonna be a red mark the size of his hand. you whimper.

“what was that, pretty? use your words.” he purred into your ear, biting your earlobe gently, nibbling marks down your sensitive neck.

“fuck, i missed you so much, i need your cock so bad-“ you whine his name. “-i touch myself thinking about it- but nothing is as good as you.” you shamelessly confess, a smirk growing on his smug fucking face.

“good fucking girl.” he growls, taking his raging cock out from his briefs, his hand pressing down on your back so you bend over the sink to give him easier access.

you mewled as his leaking tip pokes through your enterence.

he slowly sheathes himself in, savoring the feeling of your hot walls contracting needfully around his cock. “god, it’s been so fucking long. it’s like she’s sucking me in.”

your fingers gripped the counter in front of you, your eyes focusing on his own. the way his face scrunched once he was burried balls deep inside of you. his deep breaths, the way his hair slightly stuck to his forehead from how much he was sweating.

you’re about to speak, but your words turn into moans of his name as he thrusts in and out of you, his hips slapping against your ass. your head rolls down to rest against your arms on the counter, but he doesn’t allow that.

his hand that isn’t wrapped around your waist goes to grip your throat, pulling you back against his chest.

“watch yourself get fucked by your future husband.” he grunts, his thighs burning from all the rutting, but he’d feel that pain forever if it meant he could be able to fuck you like this again.

you watch as your tits bounce through your shirt in the mirror, drool threatening to spill from the corner of your mouth. the mirror was big enough that you could see his dick pumping into you. obscenely wet sounds coming from where you two meet.

“o-oh fuck, feels s’good, don’t stop!” you moan out, staring at him in the reflection. he was so focused on the way you felt around him, he had almost forgotten you two broke up.

“oh god, baby. i fuckin' love you, need your pussy every day, can’t live without it.” he bites your shoulder, hard, making you groan. his hand moving from your throat to grope your tits through your top. his hips only slapped into you harder and harder, your vision going blurry when the head of his cock hits your soft spot. you let out chants of his name, your arms reaching back to grip his hair to bring him impossibly closer.

you stared at yourself in the mirror. the way he slid in and out of you with ease made you squeeze around him, prompting a groan from him. your hair was out of place from his rough treatment, marks down your neck and thighs. you couldn’t even think about having to explain this to your friends later.

“squeezing me so good. so perfect for me. gonna let me fill you up, hmm? walk around with my cum dripping out of you, let everyone know you’re fucking mine.” he thrusts with a bruising pace, your whole body rocking with the rolls of his hips.

“p-please yes! need it so bad!” your mind starts to blank, the only thing you could think about was the way he was pulsing inside of you, threatening to spill at any minute.

“touch yourself, baby.” he pants, his thrusts getting sloppier. he was so close, but there was no way he was going to cum before you. you nod, bringing a shaky hand to your ruined pussy, rubbing and pinching your clit the way you liked it. your mouth fell open at the overwhelming pleasure taking over.

“m’gonna cumm!” you whine until the only thing you can say is his name, over and over. just how he always loved it. he whispers dirty praises into your ear, talking you off the ledge. you force your eyes to stay on his own in the mirror. you hated how fucking hot he was.

waves of intense heated pleasure start to roll over you, moaning as your vision gets blurry with tears of ecstasy. “s’good!” you scream, tightening around him, making it hard for him to move. he curses as you grip his cock so tightly, milking him so hard he cums inside of you.

you pant as his thrusts get lazy and eventually slow to a halt. he didn’t want to pull out, but he knew he couldn’t just stay in here with you forever, no matter how much he wanted to.

he pulls out hesitantly, the mixture of your release dripping out of you making him let out a harsh breath.

you finally come down from your orgasm, completely fucked out. oh how much you missed his cock. and him too you guess.

he turns you around, giving your cheeks kisses before enveloping his mouth with your own. your tounges gently roll over eachothers, contrasting in comparison to how he was just fucking your brains out.

your phone lights up on the counter with a text from your bestfriend. you squint, reading the message.

‘bitch i’m leaving. don’t think i didn’t see you guys btw -_-‘

he wraps his arms around your middle, seeing the message.

“gonna come home with me?” he leaves even more love bites down your neck, making you sigh.

“…yea”

GETO, gojo, SUNA, atsumu, leon kennedy, toji, kuroo, dick grayson (sorry not sorry), your fav ;)

masterlist

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Spring (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Slightly less unreliable narrator (Cregan has come to his senses, reader is on the way) Mature language.

A/N: I really thought these two would get their mess sorted out in nine scenes, but I was far too optimistic. Lucky me, I had one season as backup! Also, thank you so, so much for continuing to read this series and your kind comments!

IT IS FUNNY, how wrong can Cregan be about people. He is no longer afraid to admit it. He had been mistaken about you. 

The utter viciousness you had displayed, bringing up his dead wife, had only been a source of anger for him at first. He had thought you an evil little bitch, unafraid of exploiting weak spots to hurt him. 

Then, he had seen you with Rickon. And his world had just… Shifted. As if every piece of furniture in Winterfell had been moved exactly one inch to the left, and no one had told him, leaving him stumbling around in his own home.

You weren’t evil or jealous. Or, more likely, you were, but not because of some petty reason, it was because you were insecure. The mere idea was laughable, why would a Princess of the Realm be insecure? But it made too much sense for him to ignore. 

Each time Cregan had cracked a joke that compared you to Arra, like commenting on the number of packages and dresses you had brought from the South, you had taken it as a personal criticism. You felt unappreciated, so you lashed out and avoided him at every turn. 

You were kind, smart, and capable. Just not in the way Cregan was used to women being capable. The northern women were considered capable because they were physically strong, able to wield bows, ride hard and long or withstand the terrible weather. 

You, instead, shared Prince Jacaerys’ strength. You were honorable, unable to leave a child in need, and kind, enough that you would comfort them until their parents reached them. But most of all, you had a brain suited for politics. 

Cregan had never noticed before because he had never bothered to truly look at what you were doing, but your charities were to make your mother’s cause more popular with the smallfolk. He had heard your mother was doing a similar thing in the capital, delivering food to the starved population due to a blockade of the own Blacks’ making. Not that the commoners cared about the last part. They only cared about those who put food on their bellies. 

And perhaps the Queen dowager and Princess Helaena were popular in the South because of their involvement in the Septs, but you were exploiting the lack of those here. Without Septs, there were no Septas or Septons tending to the sick and poor. You were. And the North would remember, when it came time to march for your mother’s banners. 

Cregan would bet Ice that you were having tea with the northern ladies not to gain friends. The Old Gods knew you were an introverted creature, painfully awkward at niceties, much like he was. It explained why the two of you were so uncomfortable with each other. You were probably entertaining the northerns to win their loyalties, knowing the combined pressure of Cregan’s oath and their wives would make his lords more eager to drop coin and men for your war. 

Oh, if Cregan got you on his side, the two of you would be a force to be reckoned with. He could already see how much security you could bring to the North, how well fed you could be during winter, if you decided to work with him and not behind him. 

You were a wonderful woman. Kind and tender to his son, smart as a whip, utterly terrifying when crossed. You would make a fine wife to any lord, and Cregan couldn’t believe how stupid he had been not to see it. You just needed to be encouraged, and Cregan, dumb as a rock, had been doing the exact opposite. 

While you hadn’t exactly been trying, Cregan was man enough to admit that part of the blame laid on him. He had been pushing you away without even realizing it, comparing you to Arra at every turn, without considering how that might come across to you. 

That ended today. He would prove himself worthy of your love and loyalty, and win you over. Cregan wasn’t a man of half measures. He would woo you or spend the rest of his life trying. 

Set in his decision, Cregan walked to your chambers. He waved off the guard’s attempt to announce him, casually strolling in. 

You were seated next to the fire, the leather-bound book you usually carried around spread over your lap. It was a heavy tome, bound in brown leather with golden engravings. It was written in High Valyrian, a language for which Cregan had little use, so he had never learned it beyond recognizing the alphabet. 

There was a striking beauty to your expression when you were at ease, the peaceful expression you wore becoming you much more than the usual frown you directed at him. Cregan found himself wondering how beautiful you must look smiling, if you looked this radiant when at peace. 

You had the sort of face to be lit up with happiness, he could already tell. His heart ached to be the one that finally coaxed it out of you.

“Princess,” Cregan calls, softly. You set your book aside, ready to get up and curtsy, but he halts you. “No need for that, wife. My ego is not so fragile I need my woman to bow to me.” 

“Lord Husband.” You reply, for once not frowning. Your face remains carefully neutral, which Cregan considers a victory. He would attribute it to his remark about his ego, but it is more likely due to guilt. He will take it regardless. 

“No need for that either, much less today.” Cregan smiles at you. “You may call me Cregan, if you wish. I am here to thank you for caring for my Rickon while I was away.” 

You look far more confused than you did before. You look like you want to approach him and run at the same time, your wool gown fluttering as you squirm in place, undecided if you are approaching or not. 

“I simply did my duty, my lord.”

Cregan’s smile widens, amused by you. 

“Singing him was part of it? By the Gods, I thought I had a wife and not a minstrel?” And the dry, northern humor doesn’t seem to suit you because you frown slightly. Cregan fights the urge to curse, instead making a mental note. You dislike being mocked, even in jest. He wonders what sharp words you had to endure in the South to be like this, and feels a wave of pity. Dark of hair and no dragon to shield you? Perhaps that was why you were far kinder to Sara than to him. He gives a tasteful cough. Or at least, his attempt at it. 

“I only meant to say you went beyond your duties, and I thank you for it. You didn’t have to, but it meant the world to him.” Cregan tries again, and you blink at him, as if he were unable to understand anything at all. 

“He is a child.” You say, slowly.  “No person would leave a child in need.” 

“You would be surprised.” Cregan thinks of how his own mother had treated Sara when she had arrived at Winterfell, treatment that hadn’t improved when his aunt took on as the Lady of the household. His sister had only known freedom after Cregan had taken over his seat, and she was still judged by the rest of the North, even though in a much subtle manner. 

“Mmm.” Your reply is noncommittal. 

“He has been asking me lately why he doesn't have a lady mother.” Cregan attempts again. He is not above using Rickon to have an excuse to spend time with you. And to his amusement, it does work. You pity his son more than him, it seems because you begin to pay him more attention.  

“What did you tell him?” You tilt your head to the side, curious. It’s a surprisingly cute gesture for the unshakable princess that you are. 

“I do not know. I have not answered him.” Cregan searches for somewhere to sit, but apart from the loveseat in which you are soaking up the warmth of the fireplace, there is none. He grabs the stool by your writing area, and brings it over. 

He sits on the stool across from you, wiggling a bit with how uncomfortable it is. It feels like his knees are on his chest, by the Gods. It’s clearly meant for a shorter person. Your rooms are not made for receiving visitors, he should have thought of that earlier. You need a space to receive people that isn’t the sitting room. What if you wish to have more private conversations?

“Surely he knows she is dead?” You are too caught up in your disbelief to protest that he is rearranging your furniture. Good. 

“He does, but doesn’t quite grasp what dead means.”  Cregan is being honest. Whoever has the heart to explain to a child of two namedays what death is, is a braver man than him. 

“Perhaps you could say she is in the Seven Heavens?” Your frown comes back, but this time it isn’t angry. Instead, it’s puzzled. You are trying to help him, and it makes him fight the urge to smile. He doesn’t want you to think that he is mocking your suggestion. 

“We do not believe that here.” 

“Neither do I.” And this time, there is the barest beginning of a playful smile on your lips. Oh, you minx! Cregan smiles to himself, charmed. It emboldens him to continue. 

“Just, I would like it if you saw him more often. With me. Perhaps… He has asked about you, and I am not asking you to replace her but I… He sometimes needs a more feminine touch.” 

“Of course.” You agree. And he can see in your eyes you think he might be trying to use you as a stand in for Arra, not truly believing his words, but that is alright. Cregan will show you. Or at least, he is going to do his very best attempt. 

YOU MAKE SURE there are enough pastries and hot water available before you stand up.

“I am afraid I must leave you, my ladies. But you are welcome to continue enjoying the hospitality of Winterfell.” The sitting room is filled with northern women. You have begun inviting them for tea twice a moon, trying to ensure your mother will have all the support she needs when she takes King’s Landing. 

It has proven to be quite the difficult task. Northerns are often suspicious of outsiders, and from what you have learned through these gossip sessions, they rarely marry southrons. The only ones who do are the most important Houses, like the Starks or the Boltons. It means that most of your ladies are northern by birth, and not through marriage as you are. 

“This early?” Lady Mormont asks, bluntly. Her bluntness had discomfited you during your first meetings, but you have come to find it refreshing. “Princess?” She tacks on, remembering she is supposed to mind her courtesies with you. 

“This early.” You confirm, with a smile. You have planned the time of this tea with precision for this same motive, knowing it will appeal to their loyalty, but also allow you to escape the socializing. “I have a play date with my Lord Husband and little Rickon.” 

One of the ladies coos. Lady Mormont barks out a laughter. 

“Ah, to be a young woman with that many suitors.” 

“Only the very best.” You smile, and leave them to feast on the pastries. 

You make your way to Cregan’s solar at a leisure pace. The crushed velvet gown you are wearing is in a blue so pale it almost looks like the gray of House Stark. It is one of your old ones, meant to evoke House Velaryon’s colors. It fits you again, having gained a bit of weight during your time in the North. You hope it is a gown suitable for playing with a toddler. 

As you enter, you notice Rickon is arriving as well, tugged along by a maid. He chirps a greeting to you, a mix of your name and title that sounds more like gibberish. Yet, you are helpless to him.

“Rickon!” You kneel by him, as he runs to be picked up. You indulge him, smelling his hair as you lift him. He smells of sweet innocence, and a bit like Cregan. You hate that you cannot hate him or be indifferent any longer. The little boy has stolen your heart. 

Rickon gives you a toothy smile, his hands clumsily going to cup your face. Who can resist him? Not you. 

“I see you found each other.” Cregan leans against the door, smirking. He holds two cups. “Warm milk with honey. For the cold.”

You cannot help but smile a little. 

“Our knight in shining armor!” You tease, more for Rickon’s benefit than him. “Let us in, good Ser. So I can place my little wildling down and he can drink it.” 

Cregan laughs and moves aside to let the two of you pass. As you do so, you cannot help but notice how much space he takes up, tall and wide. Your eyes linger on his shoulders. You have not seen him wield Ice yet, but you have seen the sword. He has to have considerable strength to do so. 

The thought is strangely thrilling. Your stomach does a somersault, but before you have time to analyze it, Rickon begins to squirm in your arms. 

“Down! Down! Doggie!” He pleads. You look to see what has caught his attention and notice that Cregan has moved the rug so it lays by the fireplace, and placed some of Rickon’s toys there, including his more favored one: A soft cotton white wolf. 

You set Rickon down and take one of the cups from Cregan. Both of you sit down on the rug as well, and watch Rickon play with his wolf, ignoring his cup of milk. You have come to learn that playing with an only child is much different than playing with your younger siblings, Rickon mostly plays alone and wants you there to show you things. 

It forces you to keep conversations with your husband, if only because the silence would be too awkward otherwise. 

“I have arranged for us to have tea when Rickon tires.” Cregan informs you, a bit stiff.

“Oh, I already had tea with the…” You start, before Cregan interrupts you. 

“You are far too thin still. Besides, I know your tea spreads are made of mostly northern sweets. I asked the cooks to make one of your favorites, Prince Jacaerys was kind enough to set up correspondence for me with the cooks of Dragonstone.” 

It’s awfully thoughtful of him, and you will examine it later because your mind is still stuck on one tiny detail. One that infuriates you. 

“You are corresponding with Jace?” You ask, trying hard not to sound violent. After all, he has been very kind to you as of late, and guilt has begun to creep in for your careless words about his late wife. Not that you will apologize or anything. You intend to pretend nothing happened and be extra nice to Cregan, indulging Rickon and him on all the tea and play dates in the world. 

“I am. He would be very pleased if you stopped burning his letters.” His tone is chiding, though gentle. You take a deep breath in. Jace, the traitor. Cregan keeps his tone kind. “He still grieves your brother, Princess. Do not make him mourn a sister in life.” 

“Does he think I shall never forgive him?” You ask him, baffled. Rickon begins building a tower with blocks on the rug, insisting that the two of you aid him in building Winterfell, so Cregan’s answer is delayed. As you place some blocks to make the entrance, you have time to think over his words. 

All alone in Dragonstone, Jace must be feeling as lonely as you are. Only more because he has no Cregan and Rickon to stand with him. 

What he had done was a deep betrayal in your eyes, but was it truly? You had known you would have to marry eventually, and it probably wouldn’t be a love match. Jace had done the best he could in the terrible circumstances you were in. Moved by his fear of losing another sibling, he had entrusted you to Cregan because he thought you could be happy here. Safe. 

And you were. There was no fiercest protector for you apart from your husband. After marrying him, no one had dared even to breathe the rumors of your bastardy, and he even worried about what you ate, by the Gods’ sake!

“You can hold a grudge.” Cregan says, cautiously, when Rickon is distracted by his cup of milk and begins to attempt drinking it. Usually, drinking his milk is followed by passing out, so he is careful to support him in his lap. The sight makes your chest feel oddly warm. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

This was bad. 

You were falling in love with Cregan. 

“Perhaps I don’t want to any longer.” You say, looking into his eyes. You are no longer speaking of Jace. 

Cregan seems to catch on your meaning because he reaches forward and takes your hand in his. Fixated on how big and warm his hand feels against yours, you almost miss his soft words. 

“Neither do I.”

SARA’S EYES, GREY and so much like his father’s, are fixed on him. Cregan tries to ignore her, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of appearing uncomfortable. But before the hour passes, he is squirming in his chair, unnerved by her silent stare. 

Sara continues to stare. Cregan refuses to speak to her. After a while, she sets down the book she has taken from his shelves, a dreadfully boring account of the battles fought by the Kings of Winter, and perches her chin in her hands. 

That way, her staring is much more obvious. She is comfortably laid back in one of the armchairs he has in his solar. Cregan likes company when he works, and it’s easier to ask for her opinion if she is right there. Unfortunately, it also means she can stare at him for hours on end if she so wished.

“What?” Cregan asks, when he can’t take it any longer. He pushes away the reports about the safety of Wintertown and how prepared they are for winter, and looks up at her. She still doesn’t speak. “Sara!” 

“Apologies, brother.” By her smile, she is anything but sorry. “I just find it fascinating.” 

Cregan sighs. He doesn’t really want to bite, but if he doesn’t, Sara’s teasing will get worse and worse.

“What is fascinating?” 

“How you have managed to turn into a spineless southron in less than two moons.” Cregan can only gape at her. What is she going on about? “Not only have you turned timid, you are also a moron. And cunt struck. Well, are you? I know you are not getting any, does one need to actually be bedding the woman to be cunt…” She doesn’t even finish her words, cackling with laughter.

His face grows hot, burning with embarrassment. 

“I should have married you to an Umber and be done with it.” He mutters, under his breath, which only makes her cackle further. Both of them know that Sara would never be married off as if she were some cattle. Cregan loves her too much for it, and she is a deeply independent woman. 

“Who would advise you, then?” She asks him, brazenly. “Your sweet little wife? While she is great at wrangling lords and ladies, I doubt she has the stomach for warfare.” 

“There is a certain innocence to these Velaryons, yes.” At his words, Sara glares. She hates to be reminded she had not been as immune as she liked to think she was to Prince Jacaerys’ charms. “But if the worst comes to pass, I actually intend to have her hold Winterfell alongside you and Rickon.” 

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” Sara approves. “Shall you march south, Rickon and I will suffice.” 

“I wish to begin teaching her, when she no longer seems willing to murder me.” 

“I think she isn’t willing to murder you any longer.” And it is as good of an endorsement he will get from Sara. 

“She still seems to think I do not love her.” Cregan whines. 

“Because you mention Arra all the time. I have heard it’s in bad taste, but what would I know?” Sara rolls her eyes. “I am just some bastard girl.” 

“Are you simply going to complain or will you help me?” Cregan looks at her and tries giving her his best pleading look. Then, he decides to stroke her pride. “You know I always seek your council, even above other lords.” 

“Even above Lord Cerwyn?” Her mouth purses in a dubious pout. Fuck. His sister or his best friend? In the end, the choice is easy. Sara is here now, after all. 

“Of course.”

Sara positively beams. 

“You should tell him so.” Her rivalry with him had never made any sense to him, they had known each other since childhood, too. The man didn’t even care about who her mother had been and never took insult with her… Well, insults. Plural. Always thrown at him by Sara. Now that he thought of it, his friend always sought excuses to see Sara. Odd. “Loudly. But I am feeling generous and not demand that you do so immediately. I shall gloat in my victory, and it will be even sweeter if he doesn’t know.” 

“Your advice?” Cregan asks, tiredly. The Gods knew that she would talk circles around him if he let her. She was honest, but she also had a gift for courtly speech that Cregan despised. 

“Women like gifts. Or I do. And I am a woman.” Sara shrugs. “She is a Princess, of course she does too. And don’t just gift her anything.” 

“I would never be…” That stupid, Cregan wishes to add, but Sara is still speaking. 

“Gift her something special. Something unique, tailored to her. And especially, something that you wouldn’t gift practical Arra.” 

Cregan stares at Sara. Sara stares back. Then, very pointedly, she picks up her book and continues to read. The message is clear. He will not get any further help. 

Still, her advice lingers. In the coming days, Cregan cannot shake the thought, regardless of what he is doing. As he inspects his men, as he reads during his spare time, even as he bathes. All Cregan thinks of is you, and a gift that would please you. 

He even dares ask Rickon. His suggestion of a direwolf isn’t exactly bad. It’s just difficult on its execution, and not something Cregan would choose when thinking of a gift for you. 

He discards many more ideas, from rolls of myrish lace to donations to your charities. You ran far too cold to wear the former, and the latter wouldn’t truly be a gift to you. He wastes nearly a week coming up with a suitable idea, and two more corresponding with the Prince, the Maester at Dragonstone, and securing the goods he needs. 

It’s all worth it, when he takes a look at the finished present and can know that you will love it. 

[retrosabers]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬.

FICMAS DAY ONE- MISTLETOE

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: marie is determined to get logan to kiss you under the mistletoe

contains: cute holiday fluff, marie and bobby being little shits, established relationship, swearing, teasing

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this was not supposed to be almost 2k words but i have a very bad habit of getting carried away when it comes to logan so…let’s hope i can actually commit to writing all these holiday blurbs! in the meantime, enjoy some wolvie sweetness <3

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

holidays at the x-mansion meant a few things.

helping put up the largest christmas tree you’ve ever seen, and decorating it from head to toe. each student and professor responsible for placing their favorite ornament on a branch.

spending your weekends cozying up by the fireplace with hot cocoa and your colleagues. basking in the warmth that had nothing to do with the glowing embers, but the company seated around you.

and last, but most importantly, less kids. since a fair amount of them returned home to spend time with their families, that meant fewer heads to keep track off, and less stress on your plate.

but of course, things could never be that easy.

the ones who remained, usually the older students, always tried their luck to see just how much they could get away with, under the guise of “being in the christmas spirit.”

last year it was the snowball fight that somehow made its way into the foyer. the year before that there was a wrapping paper prank that covered all four walls of the professor’s office with obnoxiously printed gift wrap.

both of which were unnecessary messes that irked logan big time. and yet, this year’s ordeal got under his skin in a way that was unparalleled to those prior.

and it’s all your fault, really. well, sort of.

somehow an innocent comment made in passing about always wanting to be kissed under mistletoe turned into a personal mission for marie. she was determined to help make your dream come true, and while the kindness of it all is incredibly sweet and heartwarming, she’s starting to get a little carried away.

logan liked the young girl. he really, truly did.

but if her and bobby didn’t stop this little charade, he was going to lose his mind.

all damn day the pair of teens were following him around every corner. whispering and giggling under their breath, forgetting that he could hear them from a distance away. he knows exactly what they’re up to, judging by the faux leaf decoration marie is doing a very poor job of hiding behind her back.

they’re trying to play matchmaker.

it’s something that would be the slightest bit endearing if he wasn’t already involved.

that’s what made the situation ironic. funny even. watching them scramble around to place the mistletoe whenever you and logan were in the same room. thinking they were single handedly going to be responsible for a love match that was already underway and had been for months.

you weren’t purposely keeping your relationship a secret. you just didn’t feel like it needed to be divulged to the team just yet. anyone with eyes however, could clearly see there was something going on between you and the wolverine.

hence the two young mutants trying their hand at playing cupid.

“you can’t keep barking at them all day,” you scold logan, who was shooting the iceman a warning glare over his shoulder. the blonde looks like a deer caught in headlights as he darts down the hall. “they’re just being kids.”

“gettin’ on my goddamn nerves is what they’re doing,” your boyfriend grumbles. his hard expression melts a bit when you affectionately card your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“i think it’s sweet.”

logan scoffs with a roll of his eyes, but it's clear he’s mostly messing around. he’s got a soft spot for the kids whether he wants to admit it or not, and he most definitely has a soft spot for you, which he’ll scream loud and proud. his eyelids flutter shut at the soothing scrape of your nails against his scalp.

“i’m waiting for you to starting purring one of these days,” you tease him in a low whisper. logan opens one eye, unimpressed. still, there’s a faint tug on the corner of his lips.

“whatever,” he retorts weakly, relishing in the peaceful moment. knowing you don’t get many of those around here, his hand stays snug against the small of your back, hoping he can keep you anchored for just a little while longer.

as much as you want to stay like this all day, both of you have things that need to be taken care of. logan deflates slightly when you pull away, hands ghosting around your torso before limply falling at his sides.

“duty calls,” you groan, as you look down at your watch to check the time. your next class started in five minutes, and you’d be setting a bad example as the teacher if you were late. “i’ll find you after?”

logan nods, debating on whether or not he should do what he’s thinking. you’ve shown affection around the mansion before, but with bobby and marie sneaking around, he didn’t want to give them a front row seat, especially considering no one really knew you were together yet. the last thing he needs is those two running amuck telling everyone his business.

although logan would be a liar if he said he could go without your kisses. because he couldn’t. not by a long shot, regardless of the circumstance.

just as he’s about to lean in, a loud noise sounds from the hallway. you exchange glances for a split second, protective instincts kicking in before you rush out of the room in a panic.

in a flash, you’re standing in the mansion’s entryway, logan with his claws out and you with your fists up ready to face danger. except there wasn’t anything alarming to be found. not a knocked over vase. not so much as a fly in the wall.

“what the hell was that?” you breathe, surveying the hall for any sign of what could’ve caused a ruckus.

“probably those damn kids again,” logan huffs exasperated, giving the room another once over before his claws retract.

you can’t stop the bark of laughter that makes its way out of you. logan looks back at you confused, but with a hint of a smile on his face.

“i’m sorry,” you snort, covering your mouth at the sound. “it’s just, you sound like such an old man right now.”

unamused, logan offers a blank stare, though you know there’s no real irritation behind it.

“i’m not sure who’s worse,” your boyfriend groans as he makes his way back toward the living room. “you, or the kids.”

“you know you love me,” you joke, following close behind. logan hums sarcastically, but deep down he knows it’s the complete and utter truth. he doesn’t have to say it out loud for you to know, and somehow his coyness about the subject manages to make you even more smitten.

your heart flutters from that notion, in addition to catching a glimpse of the mistletoe that’s now mysteriously pinned above the corridor.

it definitely wasn’t there two seconds ago.

a quick flick of your head back and forth to double check and make sure there wasn’t any prying eyes. bobby and marie weren’t very good at hiding, so when you’re not met with a chorus of stifled giggles, you know you’re in the clear.

a smug grin accompanies the airy call of logan’s name.

the man gives a sideways peek over his shoulder before spinning around completely, eyeing you with tender curiosity.

you stand in the doorway, teetering back and forth on your heels, and nod your head up in the direction of the ever dreaded mistletoe. an innocent flush on your cheeks that signals to him just how giddy you are over something so small.

and as much as logan can’t stand the cliche-ness of it all, he has no choice but to oblige.

because who would he be, if he didn’t do everything in his power to keep you this happy?

with faux annoyance, he stomps over to you, dragging his feet across the floor for dramatic effect. it only adds to your amusement, the sound of your laughter the most delightful noise he wishes he could bottle up and keep forever. when his large hands find their familiar place wrapped around you, any facade of indifference crumbles.

“m’gonna get those little shits if they’re lurking,” logan mutters playfully, your lips mere inches apart with how closely he leans in.

“just shut up and kiss me already howlett,” you whisper in protest, and that little hint of bossiness is all logan needs to surge forward and close the gap.

it felt exactly like something out of those cheesy christmas romance movies, but in the best way possible. the scent of vanilla and pine occupies your senses as logan’s lips move in tandem against yours. delicate and slowly, an always dizzying contrast to the brooding and rugged exterior of the wolverine. you melt like putty into his touch, arms encircling the back of his neck naturally.

there’s something sweet and syrupy that logan feels between his ribs when you shuffle around onto the tips of your toes to deepen the kiss even more. to find a way to get even closer, an impossible feat that physics won’t ever allow but you try anyway.

the only thing that could ever pull you away from this bliss, was the need to come back for air.

the sight of you, blushed and breathless, was always sure to make him swell with pride. in true hallmark fashion, a piece of hair falls in front of your face, and logan tucks it behind your ear without second thought.

“that live up to the hype?” logan teases, raising a brow up towards the ceiling, that sly smirk of his making you flush even more.

“maybe,” you quip back, pretending to mull things over in your mind before ultimately nodding your head enthusiastically.

and even when logan can sense the presence of bobby and marie looming nearby, he doesn’t fly off the handle with a string of swear words like he wants to. he can’t bring himself to rain on your parade just yet. though he should’ve known you’d beat him to the punch.

“they’re standing in the hall aren’t they?” you grumble against his lips, a hint of annoyance lacing your otherwise cheery tone.

“yup,” logan pops the last letter, shifting to give the pair a look that screams “i’m giving you a five minute head start before you get an earful.” they cartoonishly scamper off, the sound of bounding footsteps up the staircase filling the room.

you pinch the bridge of your nose, the bubble of this perfect moment popping at the thought of what the rest of your day was going to entail now that the mansion’s biggest blabbermouths caught you kissing.

“we’ve got about 10 minutes before the entire state of new york knows our business.”

logan’s laugh rumbles against you, sending delightful vibrations throughout your body. even with the irritation that pricks at the both of you, there’s an underlying sense of content that can’t be ignored.

“i say it was worth it.”

“yeah?” you whisper, eyes searching logan’s for some sign of jest or sarcasm. surprisingly, they’re full of sincerity, and it only adds to the warm and fuzzy feeling spreading across your skin.

“yeah,” he hums, gingerly cradling your face as he presses your lips together once more.

later, after you scold marie for being a meddler, you’ll be sure to thank her for helping give you one of the most memorable kisses in your entire life.

thanks for reading! <3

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[navybrat817]

Out of My Head

Pairing: Chubby Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky feels a bit insecure during a romantic evening and you do your best to get him out of his head.

Word Count: Over 2.6k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, dirty talk, possessiveness, a/b/o dynamics, insecurities, self-doubt, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's crazy about you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. @missvelvetsstuff, @honeyglee (chubby!Bucky), and @bucksbabee (rose petals) all requested for alpha!Bucky to Go for a Swim (smut) with prompt #27 and #32 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wanted tonight to be romantic. Candles, rose petals, the works. Not for any sort of special occasion, but because his omega deserved only the best. Day in and day out. He hoped it was enough to make you feel loved and adored. It was a wonder that you were with an alpha like him.

If you looked inside his head, you’d tell him there was no reason for him to think he wasn't the perfect man for you. That he was a good partner and alpha. Had been from the start. That you loved him. And you did. You never once gave him a reason to doubt that.

If only he could push away the negative voice in his mind that seemed determined to bring him down tonight.

“Bucky?”

Tilting his head, everything around him became muted as he focused on you. Laying on your side with your naked body exposed to him, he watched the candlelight cast a glow upon your skin. Both of you lost your clothes earlier in the evening, content to lay beside each other for the time being. He wished some days that you didn't have to wear clothes at all. You and your body were made to be worshiped.

Unlike him.

Bucky almost covered himself up with the blanket. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but he was soft in places where he was once firm. While he had been on the thicker side for years, he now had some pudge to go along with it. Handsome or not, he just wasn't in the same shape he used to be when he was younger. What if one day you didn’t like that? What if you wanted someone different? Stronger?

Better?

“You're thinking too hard again,” you said, picking up one of the rose petals to brush across his forehead. He smiled when he realized you traced a heart. “I can feel it.”

He inhaled your scent to ground himself. Orange, cinnamon, honey. The aroma of you made his mouth water. It comforted him, too. He hadn't associated any kind of smell with a sense of home until you.

“I’m thinking about you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smiled, nuzzling into your pillow more as you gazed at him. “What about me?”

“Just how amazing you are,” he answered.

When he looked into your eyes the first time, he expected to see his imperfections staring back at him like they had with so many others. But the way you looked at him with kindness, acceptance, and want, everything fell into place. Pieces of himself he didn’t know were missing found their way back to him and made him while again. His heart didn't stand a chance.

It belonged to you.

Beautiful. Perfect. Mine.

How is that possible? How does a goddess want me? What the hell is wrong with me tonight?

“You know you look at me some days like I'm not even real?” You asked, reaching over to run your fingers through his hair. He moaned and turned his head to nose along your wrist. He craved your touch and scent like nothing else. “Like you're in some sort of a dream and you're afraid you're going to wake up if you look away.”

“Because you’re everything I could ever want. You occupy every single thought in my head, and every single dream,” he whispered. Even his dreams couldn't come up with someone as amazing as you. “And maybe I am afraid that this isn't real.”

Your brows pinched. “Why is that?”

He leaned over to kiss your forehead, wanting to ease the worry from your face. “I’m not sure. You just seem too good to be true and it feels like I might wake up to find you gone. Or that one day…” He rested back, swallowing hard. “You’ll decide you just don't want me anymore.”

You whined, a distraught sound that broke his heart. He wanted to take back those words, but he didn’t want to hide his feelings no matter how much it hurt to talk about them. “Bucky, I’m not going anywhere.” You shook your head vehemently as you sat up. “And I want you. I always do. Why would you ever think I wouldn't want you?”

“Because look at me.” He waved his hand over his torso, averting his gaze as if to hide his vulnerability. “How can someone like you want someone like me?”

He wanted to take the words back the moment they left his mouth when another wounded whine spilled from your lips. You placed your hands on his cheeks and brought his gaze back to you. There was mist over your eyes like you were going to cry and he wanted to chase that look away. “How can I want you? Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are? How wonderful you are?” You kept a hand on his face as the other slid down to his neck. “Bucky, look at me, please.”

His eyes slowly opened. He hadn't realized he shut them. “Doll, I’m sorry. I-”

“You're perfect. Inside and out. And don't say you aren't because you're perfect to me.” There was a hint of a growl on your tone as your hand moved lower. Well, as much of a growl as an omega could muster. You defended him so fiercely. “No one takes care of me the way you do. No one loves me the way you do. I’m the luckiest person in the world because I get to call you my mate.”

A strangle moan escaped when your hand brushed along his stomach. He never thought it would feel so sensitive, but no one else has really touched it since he got bigger. Except for you. “Omega.”

“You think you aren’t everything I want?” You tilted your head so he could see the mark he left. His chest swelled with pride. You never covered it up or put a collar over it, wanting everyone to see that you were claimed. He had a mark, too.

He was yours just as much as you were his.

“I know in my heart that you want me, I know that. I can feel that. But my head keeps reminding me tonight that I’m just bigger than I used to be and I have no idea why,” he said, shutting his eyes again. “It’s stupid.”

Why was his body such an issue this evening? This was supposed to be romantic, not a time to pick at his inner wounds. Maybe there was a reason he wasn't aware of. Maybe he needed to cut the wounds open so the warmth of your bond could slowly heal them.

“It isn’t stupid. Your feelings are never stupid, do you hear me? And you being bigger? Isn't that just more of you that I get to love?” There was no disgust or judgment as you rubbed his stomach again. Your sincerity almost made him choke up when he opened his eyes to gaze at you. “Bucky, believe me when I say that this isn’t a dream. This is real. I'm real and I love you. I’ll love you no matter what. That is never going to change.”

His chest rumbled at your declaration and he couldn't help but reach for you, needing to feel your body close. “I love you, too.”

He closed his eyes again when you pressed your lips to his. The bond crackled with your affection and care before his tongue slipped past your lips. The crackling intensified, your desire and need flowing into him like molten lava. It was going to burn him alive. He’d gladly perish that way.

Thank you. I love you. I’m sorry.

“Feel this,” you urged when you broke the kiss, putting his hand over your heart.

“Is that for me?” He asked as it raced under his touch.

“It’s only for you, Bucky,” you promised, slowly guiding his hand down your body. “Now feel this.”

You didn't stop until his hand rested between your thighs. “And that’s for me?” He growled as he touched your pussy, your slick coating his fingers.

You gasped and he half expected you to agree that it was, but you pulled away. He tried not to let his insecurities bubble back up and hoped his scent didn't change to something unpleasant. You assured him that he was perfect in your eyes. That you wanted him. And loved him. But it didn't mean you had to-

“It’s for you. Only you,” you said, turning toward the front of the bed to press your chest against it. “See, alpha?”

Bucky sat up as you raised your hips higher and presented yourself to him. He growled softly as he licked away the wetness from his fingers and eyed your twitching, slick-drenched hole. The blood that roared in his ears quickly rushed south and the beast inside snarled at the insecure voice to not say another word. You wanted him. Would always want him. You assured him of that with both your words and your body.

“Take a good look. It’s such a pretty hole for you to ruin. You want to ruin it, don't you? Ruin me?” You asked sweetly, briefly lifting your head to look over your shoulder. The blue around Bucky’s pupils shrank to a small ring, barely visible from how aroused he was at the sight of you. “Please, wreck me. Make me say your name.”

He had a hand wrapped around his cock, the alpha within him clawing to break through the surface. Biology would've screamed at any alpha to take you. Knot you. Breed you. But you didn’t want just any alpha. Wouldn't beg for just any alpha.

He was the alpha you chose.

“And you know that isn’t my instinct talking since I’m not in heat. This is me wanting you, Bucky Barnes,” you said as if you read his mind, snaking a hand between your legs. He almost wished you were on your back so he could play with your beautiful breasts, but he had all night to do so. “I’m so wet for you and so empty. I’m aching. You don’t even have to prep me. Just get in me. Take me.”

You gasped when he was suddenly behind you, his large body draped over yours. “That’s my pussy you're touching, omega,” he growled, pinning you down by the neck. “And I’m the only one getting you off tonight.”

“Yes, alpha,” you purred.

His belly rubbed against you as he raised your hips an inch higher and he tensed up only for a moment before he realized you pushed back against him, trying to take him in. He growled as he sat back and looked down at you, your body quivering from the low and feral sound. Deeply inhaling, he could taste your lust and love on his tongue from how strong it was. As much as he wanted to dive down and devour you, he needed to fill you up and leave his mark inside you once again.

“Not just gonna ruin you with my cock,” he said, brushing the thick head of his cock between your folds. “Gonna ruin you with my mouth after. Make your flood it with that sweet slick and drink it down ‘til you scream how much you love me.”

“Yes. Please, alpha. I want your cock. Your mouth. Anything,” you begged, keeping your head down when he folded over you again. You didn’t fear his size or weight crushing you. It excited you. He could smell it.

“You need me?” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Say my name.”

You whimpered when he pressed himself against your entrance. He tried to go slow since he hadn’t prepped you, but you could take him. “I need you. Only you, Bucky,” you sighed, trembling as he pushed in an inch more.

He gasped out your name, powerless to resist the pull as he sank as deep inside you as he could. His eyes fluttered when you clenched around him. Nothing felt as good as your slick cunt. Tight, but opened up for him so beautifully. And nothing else mattered or existed outside of you.

“Move, please. Don’t hold back,” you moaned.

Overwhelming pleasure flowed through him as his body blanketed yours. You embraced every part of him and he wanted to smother you with his scent. “Remember, omega, you begged for this.”

Whatever sense of control he had disappeared as he thrust, the slapping sound of skin on skin and his grunts a stark contrast to the romantic setting of the room. You couldn't push your hips back, but your pussy welcomed each movement as you cried out. Even with his vicious thrusts, it was somehow sensual when he nuzzled your neck.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Yours,” you moaned.

He hadn't known he said the words aloud, too lost in his primal haze. By the sounds of your moans and feel of your clenching walls, you were close already. It pleased him knowing how much he pleased you. He wanted to draw it out, make it last. He also wanted to bring you over the edge again and again.

“Does that feel good? You love getting fucked by your big, strong mate?” He grunted, heat pulsing through his veins.

“Yes. So strong,” you whimpered, reaching back to grip his hair. “So big.”

He groaned, raw pleasure bubbling through every part of his body. “Yeah, I'm big and you love it. And you love my cock ruining your pretty hole?”

“Yes, Bucky. I, hmm, love your cock.” You mewled when his teeth scraped along your skin. “Love you.”

He nosed along your neck again, slipping a hand beneath your body. “Then show my cock how much you love me,” he ordered, teasing your swollen clit. “Come all over it.”

You screamed his name as promised, slick gushing as you spasmed around him. He didn't stop, his hips snapping faster and harder as you shook through it. To feel you let go and hear those sounds of ecstasy as you rode out the waves was an honor. He needed to join you on the ride.

“Such a good omega. My omega. Gonna fill you up. So. Fucking. Good.” He growled the last word as he spilled inside you, panting with his release. The sensations blended with your earlier words, surrounding him in bliss. You were bliss.

Careful not to crush or jolt you, he rolled to his side and took you with him as he stayed nestled inside you. He murmured praise against your skin as you snuggled back against him. He didn't want to leave your body just yet. Not when you felt so good. Not when the terrible voice remained quiet.

About time you shut the fuck up and let me enjoy the evening with my mate.

“Better?” You breathed, looking over your shoulder with hopeful eyes.

Both of your hearts racing still, your purr mixed with his rumble, he wondered why he was so bothered before since his insecurities weren't a constant thing. Everyone had their off days though, including you. Sometimes for no concrete reason at all. That was life, but he couldn't ask for a better partner and mate to help him through the ups and downs, big or small.

“Much better. Thank you,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours. “But one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

He wrapped his arm tighter around you and didn't flinch as his stomach pressed more against your back. “I love you, too.”

Always, my sweet omega.

And should you ever doubt his want or love for you, he’d be sure to assure you the way you did for him.

Lovelies, I was TERRIFIED to post this, but I'm in love with them. Maybe we'll see them again? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[acmeangel]

Levi always cut his own hair. Always. Over the bathroom sink, the door open just a sliver, a crease between his brow, his lips set in a straight line.

You knew this about him. You figured it was just another one of his habits and particularities, like how he has to brew his own tea. You tried once, and when he took a sip, his nose twitched and he asked “How did you make this?” — not quite an insult, he couldn’t bring himself to be completely rude to you, but you knew what he meant. You haven’t made tea since.

But the hair cutting. He’d never announce it, never make a comment about it after. If you told him it looked nice, he’d simply make a noise of acknowledgement and move on.

You’d simply find him, in the bathroom, door cracked open, while he leaned over the sink, snipping pieces of hair with practiced precision. The muscles in his neck, shoulders, and back would flex and move with every motion, the tension lingering within them obvious. The irises of his eyes looked cloudier, distant, and that crease between his brow persisted. Always.

You push the bathroom door open, slowly, soundlessly, as if a sudden movement would make him disappear into thin air. Sometimes, you thought it might.

You lean against the doorway, watching him — he catches your gaze in the mirror for just a second, his eyes locking onto yours with a fleeting vulnerable intensity, before he focuses on himself again.

You just want to help. It’s all you ever want to do, really — to take over some of the tedious little things he does by himself every day, just because he’s always done them by himself. Bit by bit, you want to show him that the weight he carries on his shoulders is something that can be shared, that you’d carry it with him, happily.

“You know, there are these things called barbers that are pretty good at this sort of thing,” you tease, gently, a faint smile curling onto your lips. You knew a groan was coming, but you also knew he appreciated your teasing. It made him feel more grounded.

Groan. Tch.

“Why would I pay someone to do a shitty job?” His eyes flicker to yours in the mirror again, a touch softer this time.

“Want help with the back?” you ask, your eyes lingering on the strands of hair that have begun to grow down the curve of his neck. “I’ll do it for free. It’s really quite a steal.”

“No,” he says. Instantly, flatly.

You walk over closer to him, as he snips the hair in front of his face.

“I won’t mess it up. I can handle trimming a few pieces of hair.” You smile at him in the mirror, and your hand finds its way to rest on the nape of his neck, gently.
He flinches, slightly. He never moved away from your touch anymore — not since the early days of your relationship, where every affectionate touch was foreign to him. In fact, now he usually leaned into it, wanted it.

“I can do it myself.” His voice comes out a little lower, a little rougher this time. His eyes don’t find yours in the mirror.

“Okay, Levi.” Your hand retracts from his neck, and you exit the bathroom. You didn’t want to push, you never did. You learned that with Levi, things had to progress a little slower. It had been like that since the first time he kissed you — his lips had been so light against yours, his hands just barely cradled your face. He’d never admit it out loud, but you knew he was afraid — afraid to let himself care about something precious, afraid that you’d leave him one way or another, afraid that he’d never be able to give you what you deserve.


You knew none of it was true. You loved him, and you weren’t going anywhere, and you loved the way he loved you. Quietly, subtly, through actions and small gestures, instead of words and big romantic displays. It was all you’d ever need.

You didn’t need him to sweep you off your feet or tell you that he loved you every day. You were just as happy waking up every morning to a warm cup of jasmine tea on your bedside table, in your favorite mug that he had once spent hours fixing after the time you had dropped it. It was always made perfectly — something he’d learned just for you, despite calling it “that herbal crap.”

Seeing the way your lips curved into a smile after taking a sip was really the only thing he ever needed.

So, you leave the bathroom and you get into bed, and you wait for him to join you.

A short while later, he does. He slides into the bed beside you, his head finds the place on your chest that it always does. His head turns away from you, the back of his neck a faint red from rubbing it with a towel, tiny drops of water glistening in his hair.

You reach out and stroke his hair — while he doesn’t let you cut it, he will always let you run your fingers through it. You’ve found that it soothes him, that it helps him relax at night.

He makes a noise of approval, of affection.

“I’ve never let anyone cut my hair,” he says after a while, a hint of apology in his tone.

“Levi.” Your hand continues to stroke his soft hair. “You don’t need to explain it to me.”

“My mom was the only person who’s ever cut my hair.” His voice is low, a rare softness to it, as he admits this, his face turned away from you. “I don’t want…” His voice trails off.

He doesn’t need to continue. You know what he means. He’d told you bits and pieces about his mom, about his childhood, and you’d been able to put it all together. You could tell, by the way he talked about his mom, that his memory of her was starting to slip through his fingers — and now, it seemed, the way she cut his hair is one of the few memories left.

“I know,” you say, your voice soft. “Don’t worry. But, at least let me get you some better scissors for it.”

A long, gentle silence falls between you two. Your eyes trace the slope of his shoulder, the slow rising and falling of his breathing.

He turns over, his head faces toward you. Your fingers drift from his hair to the curve of his cheek.

“Maybe… next time, you can help.” His voice is a slight, relaxed mumble, and his eyes search yours. “With the back. It’s a pain. Practically break my damn neck doing it.”

Mmm, you hum, nodding softly. “Alright, I will.”

“Just don’t make it uneven. Or I might have to leave you for a shitty barber.”

You laugh, and you smile. This is all he ever needs.

The corners of his lips twitch into a faint smile. His hand reaches up to capture yours as it gently caresses his face, and he presses a soft kiss into your palm. You know what this gesture means.

“I love you too, Levi.”

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Masterlist

Requests are open!

[snickerdoodlebaby]

She Likes Them Mean - Namgyu x reader x Minsu [SMUT]

Warnings: SMUT (between you & Namgyu), dark themes, cuck Minsu, exhibitionism, voyeurism, degradation, choking, slapping, you & Namgyu are exes

Basically sweet innocent Minsu has a crush on you & is forced to watch you get fucked by Namgyu. I’m shocked I haven’t seen a fic of this yet & couldn’t get this idea out of my head, it’s way too hot frrrr enjoy <3

Minsu is always so nice to you. That pretty much sums up how you feel about him — he’s nice. You can tell the shy boy feels more for you though. The way he stares at you when he thinks you won’t notice, looking down quickly when you turn to meet his soft eyes. Choosing to be by your side in every game and sitting close to you at lunch time. The weak smiles he sent your way and how his face would turn red when you accidentally brushed up against him.

The feelings would never be reciprocated, but you enjoyed being friends with him, his quiet presence was somewhat soothing in this godforsaken hellhole. You felt pity for him, especially when he was bullied by Thanos and your ex-boyfriend.

The bullying seemed to increase dramatically once you joined their team.

Any quiet comment or slight touch between you and Minsu was immediately followed by a brutal shoulder-check or insult from Namgyu. “Fucking pussy.” Namgyu spat as his shoulder bump nearly threw Minsu to the ground.

The two of you had dated for over a year before things got messy and fell apart. And when shit hit the fan, it got ugly. The departure was far from civil, you leaving his apartment in a rush of back-and-forth yelling with suitcases full of your stuff after another fight — not uncommon with you two.

It seemed like Namgyu thought he still had some sort of weird ownership over you. This time you had enough — it’s not like he had any say in what men you spoke to or interacted with.

“Leave him alone, dickhead...” You’d say under your breath, glaring at the back of Namgyu’s head as he stopped in his tracks. You hear him curse under his breath, recognizing the korean word for “bitch.”

He didn’t hesitate to turn back around, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, and walk directly up to you. His black eyes narrowing as he searches your face. “Huh?” His eyebrows raised, “Why are you standing up for this dork? You like him or somethin?”

A short breath leaves your nose in a humorless laugh. You didn’t justify his questions with an answer. The close proximity of Namgyu’s body to yours almost had you dizzy, reeling from the memories the faint smell of his cologne brought back.

Namgyu’s eyes flicked to Minsu sizing him up, who was cowering and making himself as small as possible next to you.

“If you think being nice and sweet is gonna get her to spread her legs, it won’t.” Your mouth dropped open at his lewd words, he said it low enough so that only you two could hear.

“She doesn’t like weak pussies like you. And don’t think I didn’t see you take the bed next to hers.” He nodded in the direction of your bunks. He looked back down at you and leaned forward with his lip curled in a sneer, enjoying how uncomfortable Minsu was getting and the incredulous look on your face. “Bet this bastard jerks off to your sleeping face every night.”

The vulgar words made Minsu visibly flinch and he couldn’t look anywhere but his own shoes. Hearing Namgyu make these crude accusations so openly made his face burn. He had never thought about you in such a filthy way, truly! He was petrified in embarrassment.

You were fuming, astounded at the audacity of this man. Namgyu has always been a sleazy asshole so you should’ve seen this coming. Of course he would try to put poor Minsu in his place while claiming his stake on you. Minsu would probably be too terrified to even glance in your direction now.

Namgyu went further than that, of course. He had a point to prove to this pathetic loser who had no chance in hell of getting with you.

That same night Namgyu had you face down and ass up in your bunk, his favorite position to take you in. Your sweatpants were pulled messily to your ankles along with your panties, your shirt bunched above your tits as they bounce with each rock of Namgyu’s hips against your ass. “Yeahhh…that’s how you like it huh? Bet you’ve missed it.”

His veiny ringed hand was threaded through your long hair, pushing your face into the thin mattress below. Your eyes fluttered and rolled back into your head, your cunt squeezing the life out of your ex’s cock you missed so much.

The two of you weren’t the only ones awake. There was a third — Minsu, the next bunk over, frozen. His blanket was pulled up to his chin, his eyes wide at the debauched scene happening in front of him. The girl he had a crush on getting absolutely railed by the guy who constantly bullies him. The darkness did little to hide the two of your activities, your bunk squeaking and bodies rocking together in a lewd slapping sound disrupting the silence.

Namgyu suddenly wrenched your head up by your hair, making you cry out. He was forcing you to look at Minsu a few feet away, the two of you making eye contact as you moaned and panted. Guilt mixed with pleasure surged through you in waves.

You thought you saw tears well up in the quiet boy’s eyes. He was such a sensitive soul, you didn’t want to hurt him… Namgyu’s next words were venomous as he uttered them.

“Yeah, look at ‘er…” He directed at Minsu. “She’ll. Never. Want. You.” Each word was punctuated by him jackhammering roughly into your abused cunt.

His hand comes up to grip your throat tightly, cutting off your moans and pulling you tight to his chest against your back. “Yeahhh fuck. Y’ always come crawling back, need your cunt fucked nice n’ hard n’ I’m the only one who can do it right, huh?”

You couldn’t breathe and you swear you’ve never felt so good, you couldn’t tell what planet you were on or what nonsense was babbling out of your mouth. Namgyu always had a way of making your head empty and your pussy full, so fucking full.

He released the hold on your throat, a huge gasp of air rushing into your lungs and he’s at the nape of your ear, breathing you in deeply like he was trying to savor the scent of you after being away from it for so long. His hand came up to your cheek in a sharp slap. “Fucking freak can’t get off unless I slap her around.” You moaned loudly at that. Your brain could barely comprehend what he was saying to Minsu. You couldn’t deny the way the extra pair of eyes sent more slick seeping out of you.

You think Minsu really might be crying now, confirmed by what Namgyu said next. You feel his sadistic snicker against your ear, his breath hot. “What? Sad your crush turned out to be a nasty shameless whore?” Namgyu couldn’t stop running his mouth when you were under him.

With blurry half-lidded eyes you glance at Minsu. His gaze was locked onto your bouncing tits squished against the bed. “He can’t look away. Fucking pervert.” Cold fingers clamp down on your clit, pinching it in rapid vicious pulses. A choked scream left your parted lips, quickly muffled by two ringed fingers. Namgyu wanted to make sure you came hard while the shy boy was watching.

“Tell him I own your pussy.” Namgyu’s words were gospel when he was fucking you, and you couldn’t do anything but follow.

You hadn’t been fucked — no, you hadn’t been fucked like this in so long. None of the guys you slept with after the breakup compared, none of the orgasms even came close to how easy Namgyu had you shaking and creaming. At least that’s what you told yourself, to justify why you were about to cum so hard and easily around him.

“Namgyu owns my pussy! Namgyu owns my pussy!!!” The chant left your mouth in a desperate mewl over and over.

Clear liquid gushed out of you, spraying Namgyu’s thighs and dripping down his balls that were still slapping against your ass.

Namgyu cursed when he realized what was happening, rutting his cock into you a few last times before he stilled as deep as he could and came. God, it felt like he was trying to push into your womb. You felt shameful that Minsu had to see you like this, in this debauched state.

He couldn’t bring himself to talk to you or look you in the eyes for the rest of the games. Especially because he came twice in his sweatpants watching you get fucked that night.

[teeskzagain]

Anonymous asked:

so i’ve been thinking about how people think san’s a bit scary and intimidating while he’s an absolute sweetheart on the inside. imagine dating him and everyone around you being a bit intimidated by him, thinking he’s a rough guy and even being slightly worried…

what they don’t know is that you have him wrapped around your finger, that he’d worship the floor you walk on and that he’d simply do everything just to see you smile.

i wonder how this would translate into situations in the bedroom 🙂‍↔️

also!! i hope you get account back soon 💗

no because let’s talk about it!! the duality of choi san is actually INSANE (like his twink era??) mans could go from radiating dom energy out in public but once those doors close??? oh he would be ON HIS KNEES FOR YOU 🙌 whew, i’m in lofe with this scenario

and thank you for that, you’re too sweet🤍

wc: 3k

warnings: face riding, neck kissing, praises, dry humping (san cumming in his underwear) a shit ton of dirty talk, use of nicknames: baby, sweetie, sannie, 18+ MDNI

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starting now, you make the executive decision that absolutely no one is meant to truly understand the relationship between you and your boyfriend, choi san. this is proven true at the formal get together you and him were currently attending, with your two friends making him a topic of conversation on numerous occasions.

like, at this moment.

“just look at him,” yena gawks from across the room, cup swirling in her hand, “i don’t know how you even had the balls to go up to him…”

“let alone date him.” suiji finishes as she eyes your boyfriend up and down. he’s currently standing stoically in the corner, chatting up the birthday boy, kang yeosang. your lips curl fondly at the interaction, knowing well just how excited san was about seeing yeosang this evening.

you allow their little comments to resonate in the air before giving your two friends a look and then a soft laugh, “how come you guys say this every time we go out?”

“because it’s still insane!” yena throws an arm out as if to prove her disbelief, “how can you not just shrink under his gaze?”

suiji does a dramatic shudder at the remnants of his presence, “i’m serious y/n, he’s so scary looking.”

“there’s no problems with the relationship, right? anything i need to know? are you feeling safe?” yena’s rapid fire of questions and sudden concern makes you want to roll your eyes straight out of their sockets.

it’s been four months of dating san at this point, and one would have thought that the acceptance stage surely should’ve passed by now. however, for some reason, these two just can’t fathom the idea that choi san is ‘datable’. actually. it’s not just them, but the general public appears to fear san like some sort of bad omen. from the barista at your local coffee shop, to your favorite cashier at the grocery store; somehow, this negative stigma seemed to have developed around your poor, clueless boyfriend.

they should all be ashamed of themselves, you think with a frown, almost about ready to scold the girls when the tall, broad man himself waltzes straight into your circle. the way yena and suiji immediately clasps their lips shut at his entrance, you want to laugh, but quickly are captivated by your boyfriend who’s stopping right in front of you.

“baby…” his voice starts off somber and low, and he regards you with an expression that’s seemingly all too familiar, “it’s time to go.”

hmm? instinctively, your head tilts slightly as you sport confusion, “already? but, weren’t you just talking with-”

“y/n. let’s go.” he’s firmer in his tone, a hard face planted on. you blink before giving him an understanding head nod. you understood quite well what his authoritative stature indicated, essentially making it pointless to argue back with him.

when san whips around towards the girls, ready to begin your goodbyes, they seemed to have crowded together out of fright. the slender, narrow eyes that have proven to instill fear glower onto yena and suiji and you’re almost positive you see one of them trembling. oh, please.

“i’m sorry to cut the pleasantries so short, but it’s getting late for us. we’ll see you around though?” he quips off the question with an eyebrow raise, and by now you’ve huddled closer to him.

yena could only stumble out, “y-yeah, see ya later.” while suiji waved him away frantically, both trying their damndest to avoid eye contact with him.

he takes off while you offer your own smile and a curt wave. and even as you happily catch up behind the brooding man, your two friends are still left puzzled as to what exactly it is you see in him. both you and san make a few more rounds of goodbyes, some of the guests sharing their own inquisitive gaze at the impassive male in comparison to your gleeful smile. but neither of you paid attention to that.

no, the only thing present in the two of you’s minds was the anticipation of what was going to happen later tonight. like for when you step foot into your apartment approximately 10 minutes later, his eyes glossy as they tediously watch you, with yours trailing the outline of his delicious outfit.

the car ride over had been filled to the brim with unspoken thoughts, asses shifting and squirming in their seats, and a swirl of low breaths emitted by you two. san’s never been one to demand control over the relationship, him hardly every seeing the need to command anything out of you. he’s always been perfectly contempt with you taking the reigns while he sits back and enjoys.

and you were well aware of that.

but in a moment like that, a circumstance where his head became heavily engrossed with conceptions of you, well, he couldn’t help if a more stern tone slipped out of him. he just had to get you to recognize what it was he was yearning for. what it is he needs from you.

“sannie..” your head’s tilted down so you can peer up at him through your eyelashes, making a slow trek towards him as he stood idly in the living room, “are you in a mood?”

in a matter of seconds, you can physically see the changes your boyfriend has. his usual, cold face soon melting into an intense cry of plea. of course you knew the answer. you can read him like book by now.

you stop in front of his body, a hand pressing into his chest while the other raises to graze the side of his face, “oh, you poor thing. i know it must’ve been difficult at the party for you.”

as if you’re a magnet, once you let up on san, your hand dropping to his arm, his head shoots down into the exposed part of your neck. he’s feverish in the way he immediately starts to kiss on your skin, with in between pecks he starts to speak.

“fu-uck…,” he lands a rather large kiss smack dab in the middle of your throat which leads you to buzz out a soft whimper, “i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

he travels around your sternum, making sure to mark up any unclaimed spots, “couldn’t stop picturing you…” he nips at your skin this time, “us getting home tonight and me making you cum so fucking hard.”

your eyes are fluttering from a combo of both his words and his lips, your hands moving on their own to explore the brawniness that is choi san, “yeah…is that right?”

he lets out a strained groan as he begins to work his way down to your cleavage, “ah- my cock’s throbbing so bad right now.” the words topple from his lips an octave higher than you’re used to, and it’s clear just how turned on he is. which in turn makes your own panties dampen at the realization.

“sannie…” you gasp, feeling his mouth trailing down the fabric of your dress with some of his spit sopping through, “you know- you have to please me first. me first, then i’ll take of you, sweetie.”

he’s on his knees for you by now, staring up at you with the biggest doe eyes you’ve ever seen on a man. your head droops to meet his gaze right as his hands grip the hem of your dress. he lifts it up past your hips, revealing your cotton underwear which sports a wet spot clear as day.

“i know. i know, baby. i’m gonna make you feel so good. don’t you worry.” he ducks his head in between your thighs in preparation for licking your pussy through the soft material, a motion he does in a clean swoop. it only amplifies the extreme sensation you’re experiencing, “you won’t have a single thought in your head when i’m done.”

your body stirrers at the contact, “oh! oh my god.”

san is absolutely in love with your reactions, watching and hearing how horny you are because of him. it fuels him. he repeats his licking action, this time stopping at the top of your cunt to suck on your sensitive bud. you register his saliva permeating through your underwear, a squelching sound now filling the air, and your face contorts.

“mmm, sannie i’m gonna ride your face,” your eyes are crinkled, no longer able to hold his eye contact, as involuntarily your hips buck against his head, “fuck. just wanna grind my pussy deep into your perfect face.”

he squeezes his lips around your skin. it doesn’t even matter to him how your harsh rocks causes his face to rock along side with you. he’s ravenous. hungry for you. eating you out like he’s been deprived of your sweet cunt for days.

after a low rumble, san guides a hand to your clothed sex and pushes away the fabric. swirling, lapping, fiending into your naked core, you’re hit with double the intensity than you had previously, and you nearly squeal. he circles his head all around your thick pussy, wanting to bury his face deeper into your skin, which makes your eyes roll back.

the direct stimulant makes you see stars, him taking in pieces of you within his mouth and supplying a great deal of pleasure to those areas. your own moans fight for dominance while san’s squishy munching competes for which noise is the loudest, yours gradually getting louder and higher the more he devours you.

“i feel close,” it comes out more breathlike as you interlock your fingers into his hair for balance, “fuck- fuck- i think i’m gonna cum soon.”

with that, san offers no mercy. he wants to see you cum, needs to feel your orgasm hit his face. he quickens his pace with his wet tongue, before moving into more swift and timely sucks. the mixture of stimulants has your eyelids glazing, and it doesn’t help how occasionally san would mewl straight into you. he finds this so incredibly arousing.

you dig your hips further into his nose, you full on grinding against him by now, and you can’t even think straight. everything is pushing you closer and closer and closer-

“shit! i’m cumming! i’m cumming!” when your boyfriend nicks that spot, that spot with his driven hunger solely focused on it, your orgasm rushes through your body and out of your cunt, you yelping aloud in the process. it spritzes and coats san in a spit/cum mix, his face becoming sickly wet as you draw out your blissful high.

not once does he move to detach himself. he eats you out all during the duration of your orgasm, and when you finally have the strength to look at san again, you see his large, puppy-esque eyes just entranced with you. he watched you cum all over his face, just like he wished to before.

at the end of it, your chest heaves up and down as you attempt a small smile for him. aside from the minor spasms, you had gained some sense of awareness again.

“i’m so proud of you. you made me feel good, just like you promised.” you speak with nothing but gratitude, your hand easing up the grip in san’s hair as you transfer it into a light stroke, “you ready to be taken care of now?”

he parts your cunt with spit strings attached, his lips and face utterly covered in your moisture. he looks about ready to combust on himself, the way his eyes are hazy and low, his breathing irregular, “i’m ready. need a release so bad, i can’t take it anymore.”

sweetly, you reach down to help him up, “i hear you. come on, let’s go to the room.”

you lead the way as he follows you back into the bedroom, you instantly ordering him to strip from his pants once inside, “since you did a such a great job, i wanna treat you to something.”

a look of relief washes over san’s face. while still in his underwear, you direct him towards the head of the bed frame as you hook your fingers on the band of your panties to slide them down and off your legs. you meet him on to the bed, and right off of the bat, you can see a noticeably large bulge, poking out the material of his dark blue briefs.

if someone were to mistaken the expanding wet spot as san just having came on himself, you wouldn’t be surprised. but your boyfriend produces large amounts of arousal on the regular, so this is nothing new for you. if anything, you can start to feel yourself get horny all over again.

when directly in front of him, you bring one knee over so you’re straddling him, your pelvis just barely hovering over his lap, “just sit back for me, okay?” you eye him sincerely, “im gonna take care of you.”

right as you start to lower yourself on to his covered length, a sharp inhale from san has you pausing briefly, “baby, i don’t know how long i’ll be able to last. feel like i’m gonna explode any second.”

with a tiny laugh, you continue downwards till you make contact with your core and his cock, “it’s okay. don’t want you holding back either, i want you to enjoy this.”

and just like that, you allow your cunt to spread flatly against his erection, then ever-so leisurely, you start to roll your hips. you purposely begin with a slow pace, wanting to build up the intensity as time progressed, and judging by the facial expressions he wears, this seems to do the trick for him as well. even through the sensitivity, you push through.

“i knew you’d like me rubbing myself against you,” your hand clashes with the headboard as you steady yourself, digging your core deeper into the hard surface, “you liked it when i grinded on your face, i just had to give your poor cock the same treatment.”

inaudible moans fall from san’s throat, him now throwing his head back on the board, “sh-shit. it feels so nice, too nice.”

“i can feel you twitching below me,” you hip, your eyes becoming more hooded by the second, “are you really that close to finishing?”

“nrgh- yes.” he groans and you can see his stomach begin to convulse, his panting growing more prominent within your ear.

at this prospect, you dish out a hushed mew yourself, fastening the thrusts into his own clothed sex. your pussy acts as a stimulant for san, sending blips of pleasure through his aching dick the more you continue your rubbing.

you make sure to work every section of his length, running and dragging your glistening pussy lips against his wet fabric. you’ve suctioned yourself so far into him, that right now, you can distinguish which is his base and which is the head of cock. your cunt does a slightly bump whenever you find yourself running against the tip.

it’s euphoric the pleasure he’s having right now. never having been this turned on before, he basks in the feeling brought upon by you. how you know just when to squeeze the right amount of pressure onto him, or when to simply grind faster and harder on to the cock that won’t make it for much longer.

leading you to a point of where you’re full blown humping san into oblivion. the creaky noises of the bed acts as evidence of your hard work, along with the not-so-subtle whimpers that he buzzes out every chance he gets. he’s lost in heaven.

“you’re gonna make me cum on myself,” he follows that up with a louder groan, “fucking- i’m so close to cumming, ’m so close.” he even tries to match your rhythm but even that prove to be difficult with just how mindless you’re about to leave him.

“let it all out, sannie. come on, i know you’re almost there.” you reply back with an equal amount of desperation in your voice.

a string of ‘please’ leaves his mouth, his eyebrows scrunched inward with his troubled face. he’s so far gone, he isn’t sure that he’ll even survive the orgasm he’s about to have. when you buck particularly hard into his sensitive head, a wave of pleasure hits him and his cock relinquishes his stored up cum.

“hmm, y/n- i’m cumming!” a guttural moan overtakes the room as san releases all over himself, and you, his underwear now soiled to a point of no return. his cum leaks through and even form to mix with your previous liquids. it awakens something within you and soon the feeling of his orgasm is causing a surprise one for yourself, your eyes vibrating and a whiny shriek spilling out.

you quiver harshly on top of your boyfriend as his body twitches sporadically, the two of you somewhat finishing in sync. a few spurts of your juices seep down into his briefs, vice versa for you, and then next thing you know you’re both catching your breaths after the intense session.

“you’re so fucking hot.” he murmurs, eyes dazed and throat bobbing, “left me soaking in my underwear.”

“i love you,” you whisper back as your bring your forehead to his, still relishing from your second orgasm tonight, “you’re so good for me.”

“i love you too, baby.”

see, many question what it is about your boyfriend that you love so much. in their eyes, he’s nothing more than a fearsome man, threatening the innocence of a poor, girl like you.

but if there’s one thing you could never deny, was that your (in reality) sweet, puppy of a boyfriend knows just how to give you the actual best orgasms of your life. and luckily for him, you know how to give it right back to him.

your guys’ relationship is perfect as is. regardless if others can fully comprehend it or not.

[missqhughes]

HATE TO WANT YOU | Q. HUGHES43

-> quinn hughes x fem!reader

-> includes: smut with plot, dom!quinn, fingering, unprotected sex, sexual themes, use of y/n, intended lowercase, platonic fem!reader x luke & jack

-> IN WHICH: y/n loves her best friend luke with all her heart, but there’s one person she can’t stand; his brother. she can’t take it anymore; in a confrontation with quinn, he can’t help but drop his facade and give her everything he’s always wanted to.

-> sexxxxyyyy request anon thank you! i too want quinn to hate me and then fuck me senseless. drooling. love it as much as i do! mwah

*fic is not proofread

18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

this wasn’t y/n’s first summer with the hughes brothers.

and it wasn’t her first at the lake house.

ever since they bought it, she’d been there every summer since.

she loved the hughes family, especially her best friend luke. all of them treating her like their own, all except quinn.

and now she stood in the living room, leisurely on her phone, when a rough shoulder shoves past her,

“can you not stand in the middle of hallway? always in the fucking way…” quinn mumbled, ruffling his hair whilst disappearing into the pool room.

y/n scoffed, trying to appear unphased by quinn’s attitude.

quinn had it out for her for so long she couldn’t even remember a time he didn’t act like he hated her. shoving her roughly whenever they all would play together, putting spiders on her body in the summer when he knew she was afraid, and god, all his rude comments galore.

she shook out of her thoughts, making her way to luke’s room, knocking five times to signal to the other that it was them.

“come in!”

she didn’t bother creaking open the door, luke was sitting on his computer playing video games, her flinging herself onto his bed. y/n sighed, causing him to pause his focus and face her,

“what’s wrong? you never just dramatic sigh for nothing.”

she sat up, scrunching her nose before answering, “have you ever noticed… that like… do you think quinn hates me?”

luke gave her a look, “hates you? like genuinely?”

“yes.”

for some corrupt reason in her mind, he started laughing at her question,

“luke! it’s not funny! i’m being serious.”

luke held is stomach, his laughter dying down a bit, “he just treats you like a little sibling that’s all. plus why do you care what quinn thinks? you’ve never brought it up before.”

his words stirred in her brain. sure, she had never mentioned it, but deep down it bothered her and she couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.

because it was just plain rude?

because she couldn’t stand up for herself?

because she found quinn attractive?

thinking about it all made her chest feel weird.

“i don’t care. i mean, i guess i do, i don’t want my best friends brother to hate me for the rest of our lives,” y/n sighs, laying back down on luke’s messy sheets.

he removed his headset and sat next to her, patting her leg affectionately,

“dude you’re fine, i promise he doesn’t hate you, lighten up okay? you’re freaking me out,”

the two giggled softly at his comment, y/n feeling better with luke’s reassurance but not quite. nonetheless, she decided to ignore it.

“sorry, sorry, can’t be mopey here. let’s go down to the dock yeah?”

luke’s smile grew, “race you down there?” he lightly shoved her off his bed, out of his bedroom,

“i’ll beat you to it lukey!”

——————————————————————————

y/n did beat luke down to the dock, only to be met with quinn.

and only quinn.

not even picking up his head to look at her, quinn continued to scroll on his phone as y/n laid her towel down.

“y/n.”

“hello quinn.”

the awkward silence sat between them per usual when this sort of thing happened, when they were finally in a weird position of being alone together. y/n put her sunglasses on, feeling quinn’s glare branding her skin every time he looked at her.

in time to save her, luke ran down, towel and speaker in hand.

“damn it!” he huffed, completely out of breath and throwing his things down next to hers in defeat. she giggled, and saw quinn rolling his eyes out of the corner of hers.

quinn cleared his throat, getting up off the chair, “well now that the peace and quiet is gone, i’m going up. see you guys for dinner.” and with that, he disappeared up to the house.

luke waved off his brother, focused on his phone picking a song. y/n watched until she knew quinn was out of sight, then shoved luke hard in the shoulder,

“shit y/n, what the hell was that for?”

“i told you he hates me. he literally just went up as soon as i came down!”

“dude, he went up because he knew we’re gonna play music and you know how he is. seriously what’s up with you? you’re way too bothered by this.”

she rolled her eyes at him, not really being able to exactly articulate why she felt the way she did. at least not to him.

“i told you already i just don’t want him hating me for the rest of our lives,”

“want me to ask?”

y/n’s eyes widened, shoving luke once more, “no! that’s so embarrassing luke don’t,”

he shoved her back, “then YOU ask him, jesus! ask him after dinner or something,”

she laid on her side, facing him with contemplation in her eyes, he shrugged in response, “doesn’t hurt to say somethin,”

“okay fine, but if i’m totally right then i’m blaming you.”

after soaking up the hot summer sun, y/n and luke retreated back into the house. both exhausted, they parted their ways until dinner.

not another body was sighted in the house, and thinking quinn and jack went to the store, she went down to the kitchen to get a drink, restoring the energy the sun brought out of her.

she grabbed a coke from the fridge, hearing footsteps behind her she turned her head around, and there was quinn.

she all of a sudden felt very exposed in front of him her small bikini, especially alone in the kitchen. it’s different on the dock, you’re not supposed to be wearing barely nothing inside.

she turned her head back, hearing quinn let out a long exhale as he slipped past her, likely annoyed by just her simply being in his vicinity. the tension still stood thick between them, and in the discomfort y/n made a break for her room, not looking back.

——————————————————————————

she tried to get through dinner as normal, but y/n couldn’t control the bouncing in her leg, the anxiety of asking quinn the dreaded question manifesting through the rest of her body.

after everyone was done, her and luke stood beside each other doing dishes, him giving her a slight nudge when quinn left and settled with jack in the living room.

“so are you gonna say something?” he whispered, barely loud enough for her own ears to pick up,

“yeah i will, just not right now. not when there’s an audience,” she said wiping her hands, waiting for luke to finish up.

“you guys wanna watch a movie?” jack’s voice echoed,

“yeah we’re coming!” luke replied, waving her over to walk with him. they sat on the two available chairs, while jack and quinn occupied the couch.

jack had already picked something out, and even though it had just started, she felt eyes peering at her. y/n continued to look over at luke, who was focused on the screen, thinking it was him. she looked over at jack, who was in the same boat as his younger brother, then eventually landing at quinn.

his jaw ever so slightly squeezed tighter when her eyes met his, wandering his piercing eyes to the tv. she shuffled in the chair, attempting to mend the discomfort she felt.

——————————————————————————

with about an hour left of the movie, jack stretched, yawning as he sat up from the couch, “i’m gonna go to bed, i’m exhausted, night everyone,”

everyone said goodnight back as he left, leaving just the three of them behind.

this time, luke was looking over at y/n, and when her glance met his, she saw him looking at the situation in front of him, seeing the idea formulate in his head.

y/n looked at him with a pleading face, begging for him not to put the pressure on her right then and there, but he ignored,

“you guys can finish the movie without me, i’m lowkey really tired too.”

“luke,” y/n began, slightly weary,

“goodnight,” he said quickly, jogging to his bedroom, as fast and as least suspicious as possible. she fell back in the plush chair gently, avoiding even looking in quinn’s direction.

they sat there, she was sure neither of them were even watching, and decided that it was enough,

“can i ask you something?” she breathed out, feeling like the air from her lungs came with her words.

quinn turned his head to look at her, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, not expecting her to say anything,

“what?”

“why do you not like me?”

the questioned lingered in the air for far longer than she felt okay with. feeling frustrated, she got up, cursing at herself internally for even asking him such a question,

“wait,”

she doesn’t, instead marches straight to her room, not stopping when she hears footsteps behind her.

she gets halfway down the hallway just at the staircase before a gasp leaves y/n’s breath when she feels herself be spun around and pinned onto the wall.

quinn pins her by the hips, eyes staring deep into her own, an unreadable expression on his face.

“you didn’t let me finish.”

“then finish.” she spat back, done with his antics and still embarrassed about leaving her hanging in the living room.

“i was going to say i don’t hate you, before you ran away like a scared little kid.”

she scoffed, not believing a word he said when he just had to throw in an insult in.

“you really expect me to believe that? you’ve done nothing but torn into me since the day we’ve met. i don’t get it, i’ve done nothing to you quinn. nothing.”

he let her words soak into him, taking in all of herself in front of him, admiring it internally.

“it’s not you as a person i hate.” he said, the placement on her hips unwavering,

“so you do hate me,” she kissed her teeth, “then what is it quinn? what do you hate about me that isn’t just me?”

his breathing was hard yet steady, thinking over his next words,

“for one,”

his grip tightened,

“i hate that you’re talking back to me right now,”

y/n’s heart rate picked up,

“i hate how fucking hot you look when you dance around in practically nothing all day,”

his hands moved up slightly,

“i hate how much lukey loves you, how you’re all his and-”

“-luke and i will never be that,” she stopped him, not wanting him, or anyone for that matter, to think her and luke were anything more than friends.

“not what i meant. he gets to spend all this time with you, here there everywhere, and it makes me hate you.”

she felt her heartbeat everywhere in her body, ears hot and arousal seeping through her with his words.

y/n swallowed, “why does that make you hate me?” she whispered, falling into this version of quinn right before her eyes.

“because i hate that i want you, you of all people,” he said lowly, face moving close enough to where their breaths could mingle, crossing territories neither of them have dared to even look at with each other.

“if you don’t like this, tell me. if it’s too much, tell me to stop,” his hands felt around her waist, a different kind of tensions between them now, with only air and opportunity separating them.

“don’t, don’t stop,” she let out, closing her eyes in anticipation for him. and boy, did it come.

quinn’s lips hooked on to hers, primal and eager to explore her mouth. his lips spoke louder than his voice ever could.

y/n’s hands worked their way up from his shirt covered abs to his face, holding it in her hands while he kissed her in a way that told her it wasn’t just her lips he was going to be tasting.

he savored every time his teeth sunk into her plump bottom lip, gently tugging and feeling himself grow harder with the soft noises she let out whenever he did so.

quinn walked them to the couch, and he pulled away to push her down softly, y/n looking at up at him, needy and wanting more. he wasted no time in diving down to kiss her again, his hand finding its way down her shorts.

he smiled devilishly when he was met with a damp spot in her underwear, knowing she was fully soaked underneath,

“already fucking dripping for me huh? m’sure you’ve wanted this,” he mumbled against her lips, feeling her moan on his when he started rubbing her clit through her clothed core.

he pulled away, wanting to see how she looked withering under his teases. y/n’s bottom lip was between her teeth, one of her hands gripping onto quinn’s tshirt,

“mm, quinn, need your hands inside me,”

he knew it too, craving for his fingers to fuck her pussy and make a mess on his hand.

he peeled off her shorts, mouth almost watering seeing her pussy drip through her panties. he moved them to the side, running his ring and middle fingers between her folds before plunging them into her.

y/n covered her mouth, knowing the guttural moan that was going to escape her lips was uncontrollable. her back arched as he curled his fingers, using his thumb to circle her clit at a pace soon to send her over the edge.

her grip on his shirt caused her knuckles to turn white, and he felt her clench around his fingers, close to her release,

“yeah that’s it… cum for me, y/n,”

she panted, legs shaking slightly as the tightness in her stomach loosed, her juices glistening all over his hand as he pumped into her through her high.

quinn brought his hands up to lick his fingers, cleaning her off of them,

“you taste so fucking good, god i need you,”

y/n grabbed the nape of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss, drunken off quinn making her cum so quick.

“fuck me, quinn hughes. fuck me like you hate me.”

those words were enough for him, effortlessly he threw her over his shoulder, grabbing her shorts and carrying her up towards his room, the one place in the house she had never been.

he put her down on his bed, y/n taking in every part of quinn’s room, a sight she had yet to look at.

he was sure as hell neater than luke, little canucks things here and there as well as small things he’s collected over the years. it was cute to her to see the difference in how he acted vs his safe space, even a small teddy bear resting on his dresser.

her mind went back to reality when she heard the door click, quinn turning back to crawl on top of her on his bed.

he slightly pushed her legs apart, y/n hooking them around his waist instinctively, his mouth trailing hot kisses down her jaw and neck.

y/n felt her core growing burning hot, squeezing her legs tight around his waist, desperate for friction on her core.

“you needy huh? turn around.”

y/n obliged, but not before taking off her shirt, whilst facing quinn, seeing his adam’s apple shift when she was left in just a bra and underwear.

she turned around, sticking her ass high in the air for him, quinn admiring her arch pulled her panties down her legs, a bead of arousal following with.

he couldn’t wait any longer, he stripped off all his layers of clothing, pumping his stiff dick leaking with precum before aligning himself with her.

at first he pumped slowly, just to get himself fully inside, but after that he slammed into her, erotic noises emitting from the muffled sheets whilst he fucked her senseless.

quinn groaned at the feeling of y/n around his dick, squeezing it perfectly every time he pounded her in just the right spot.

she gripped his sheets hard, feeling herself come undone underneath him, whimpering into the bed with pleasure.

quinn snaked his around her neck, pulling her up by it and fucking her harder,

“you like it— shit, when i fuck you like this?”

“fuck oh my god, yes quinn, mm,”

he pushed her back into the bed, his thrusts become sloppy and untamed, dick twitching as he let go inside of her, warm release coating the inside of her pussy.

quinn flipped her back over, kissing her cheek before collapsing next to her on the bed, both still buzzing from sex.

“quinn?”

“yeah?” he replied, still trying to catch the rhythm in his lungs,

“i don’t think you hate me anymore,” y/n said, breathlessly laughing as she closed her eyes, also trying to regain herself.

he chuckled softly, handing her clothes back to her before putting on his own.

“as much as i’d like you to stay,” he said, running a hand through his now messed up hair, “you should go back to your room, wouldn’t want lukey having a heart attack seeing you come out of my room in the morning huh?”

she shuddered at just the thought of it, “absolutely not,” she stood up, shaky legs carrying her to his door, quinn right behind,

“but between us, you’ll be back in here tomorrow night.”

——————————————————————————

© missqhughes

xoxo, kaia

[ladybyakuya]

are we still friends? + (ren kaji, hayate suo, umemiye hajime, sakura haruka)

cws. | gn!reader, headcanon + scenarios format, sorta character study, fluff, angst, comfort. | redirect to blog navigation.

syn. | How do they react to confession when the feelings are mutual?

notes. | Will there be part two? who knows? but for now please have these. I forgot how to write smut so I'm writing fluff. 

☆ Ren Kaji: Ren does not like talking or listening so he pretends that he can not hear and with his headphones on it's easier to convince but when you specifically ask him to take it off so that you could talk it annoys him. He rarely takes his headphones off since it was a gift from someone. So all he does is to take the lollipop out of his mouth and say, "You can talk. I am not listening to anything," It really irritates you but you do not wish to act on it right now. He has started to grow a little too comfortable with your presence around him and maybe. . .just maybe it's time to create a ripple in his stagnant heart. At the rooftop of the school, where gentle breeze and sunlight prevails you say you like him and watch his eyes go bigger. He takes off his headphones with utmost haste demanding, "Say that again," but now it is your turn to annoy him. All your comebacks are full of: "no." , "Did you not listen when i said once?" , "This is why i told you to take your headphones off," and so on. You are so engrossed in conversing with him that you fail to notice his swift motion of leaning and planting a kiss on your cheek. Your lips cease to move for a while yet it is ever so quick and swift that it happens within a blink of your eyes. "Okay, I'll say it for you then," Ren says. Gulping and continuing, "Y/n likes Ren Kaji. and I like you too." in one breath and just vanishes out of your sight. The next few days he is spotted sleeping at unusual times because he has spent sleepless nights regretting why he did not take his headphones off.

★ Hayate Suo: Suo has known for a while that you like him. Well, he is not too sure but he always had a pretty good idea when it comes to emotions. He has probably known even before you that you could harbor feelings for him so when he hears the rumors from other students he does not react much except with some snarky comments to shut those rumors with his sickly sweet saccharine smile. But hearing it from you, at some secluded place near the bike stand of the school is certainly is out of the syllabus for him. At first, he does not know what to say, what to do, or how to react but when your eyes slowly look up to meet him the first thing he thinks if you did it because of rumors or some sort of dare. If so, then both are wrong. He thinks confession should come when it's time not when it is influenced by others. So, all he says is: "I know." eyes blinking a little too much, unable to consider you as his focal point. " I've known for a while." And then, he asks for some time to think about it which is unexpected because from what you have heard he has rejected every other proposal that came his way. You came prepared to be rejected when you decided to confess but this goes out of the syllabus for you too. So, you end up thinking if this is his new way of tormenting people who like him but he really needs time to properly think because he thought there is no way he thought you would like him back. He does not want to hurt you. That goes against his morals. He could feel his cheeks being warm, ears too, palms tucked behind his back cold, and rapid heart rate. "So, this is how it feels to be confessed."

☆ Umemiya Hajime: Being an older brother to everyone has never been a bother until he developed a gut wrenching crush on you or that is how he would like to put it. Not only that, you have developed quite a friendship with Kotoha ever since you started helping her out in her resturant. You are probabaly same age as her which makes things a little more complicated. Was it not enough that you might be under the impression that Kotoha is his girlfriend? Like most other people; But thanks to Sakura for clearing that confusion up. Still. . .still he feels his heart twist whenever he visits the resturant. All he does is to silently watch you. He could have easily creeped you out if you had not developed a crush on him. When Umemiya's visits became you became a little bold, like talking to him, asking about his day, exchanging numbers but never have been alone with him. He always comes with his band of boys. It denifitely nice to hear him laugh, talk and sometimes steal sneaky glances but it does not help with the wave of emotions he makes you feel. So, one day when the door bell chimed and as usual you said, "Welcome" looking in the direction of entrance ceasing your chores all you could do is stare for a moment since the customer is none other than Umemiya Hajime and he is all alone. So, you repeat again, "Welcome Umemiya-san." tearing your gaze away from him. "Kotoha is busy. Should I let her know that - he cuts you off with," i'm not here for her today." sipping water ever so slowly from the glass you just served on the coaster. Is he nuts? is he really doing this? Right now? why is he not freaking out? or maybe he is, internally, just like you. "I'm here for you today." And, when he confirms you turn around to get a proper look. 

"I see," you say.

"You didn't answer my call so i had to come here," Umemiya remarks. 

"so, you are here to scold me?" Umemiya's heart drops in some bottomless pit. He did not mean it to come out this harshly. He is just tensed, especilly after how you texted last night : "I like you Umemiya-san." 

"did you check your phone after last night?" and to that you just nod. You do not want to and who honestly would after confessing to the brightest star. You are so out of league from him. Umemiya smiles. "I see," he speak softly. He gets up and then he is about to leave but just before exting the door he says, "Please, check you phone."

★ Sakura Haruka: Sakura has a habit of talking, and going on and on about it unless someone interrupts. If possible, he would talk in one breath. So, when you say that you like him he dismisses it as a joke. "quit kidding. Nobody likes me. y'know that. . ." And there goes your probably hundred-and-fifth confession. He never takes it seriously no matter how serious you try to be Sakura manages to bungle up your intentions so quick yet you can not seem to blame him. If anything he is too honest, so often he comes as rude and obnoxious but his intentions are so pure that sometimes it makes you think can a person be this stupid? But this time when you confessed you thought this would go in the usual direction; him dismissing it as a joke but this time when he looks at you he is faced with something new, something he is not good at handling. "you. . . are you crying?" And it dawns on you how heavy your heart has become with his oblivious nature. all those "I like you-s." never reached his heart, only his head. You quickly wipe away your tears and try to cover it up with the most brilliant lie ever to exist. "It's just dirt." given his oblivious nature he is supposed to buy but he is asking questions again. "You. . . all these time. . . were serious?" Yes, you absolute dimwit. You can not even nod to confirm his thinking. You swallow hard trembling lips parting to speak and you are met with his chest with his arms wrapped around you. " I-I ... was told that if you like someone...you can hug them... y'know when they ...say they ...like you," he starts to stammer and it creates a swarm of laughter arises from your stomach. "Whoever told you that must know a lot about dating," you say having a fair idea who it might be.

[alchemistc]

Part One

The loft is sadly undecorated. He'd tried, is the thing. Gone to the same novelty store they'd found on a random walk after a date, in late September, where Tommy had spent twenty minutes worrying a foam pumpkin in his hands while Buck tried to decide what sort of decor would fit his utilitarian loft.

They'd spent so long lingering over the sculpted white candles, Buck thrilled because Tommy's straight face broke every time Buck pointed out which ones looked like incredibly expensive dildos, that he'd felt bad enough to buy a whole set of them just to appease the girl at the counter who'd been watching them with a half annoyed, half wistful expression while Buck made a comment about dragons that had had Tommy biting his lip so hard he'd actually gone red in the face trying to hold the laughter in.

But every time he'd picked up a glass tree and thought how much fun it'd be to try to make Tommy go full Tik Tok Paramedic on him, every time he'd found something soft or plush enough that Tommy wouldn't have been able to resist running his fingers over it, plucking it up to toss it between his palms - well.

It wasn't like there'd be anyone in his loft long enough to really appreciate his decorations.

"Why'd you kiss me?" he asks, rounding on Tommy as Tommy takes a tentative step towards the kitchen.

"You were being annoying." At Buck's look, he elaborates. "Force of habit."

The finger comes up without any input from Buck, his voice tipping into that same flirty, bickering rapport he'd always pushed as far as he could. "I knew you did it to shut me up."

Tommy expression shutters. He recognizes Buck's tone. A few months ago that tone would start with a round of banter that usually ended with at least one of them with their pants around their ankles.

He looks spooked. He's staring at the island stool closest to the door like he's replaying the last conversation they had here, and Buck feels all his ire rear back up.

"You promised me clarity, Tommy." It's an accusation, and they both know it, because he looks ready to fucking bolt.

Slowly, he steps in. Half a yard closer to Buck, close enough to curl his hand over the island, and Buck is struck again by how goddamn unfair it is that Tommy looks this goddamn good in a suit.

"I did."

Buck's pretty sure he has some muffins he hasn't frozen yet that wouldn't actually damage Tommy, if he threw them at him.

"Can we...?" He gestures, vague as his half a question, and Buck wants to throttle him. Or kiss him again, which is -

"I need a beer. You?"

Tommy sighs. His grip on the corner of the island makes his knuckles go white. "Evan."

"No beer, got it." He swings the door open and doesn't wait for the reaction to either his snippy little rejoinder or the stacks and stacks of baked goods filling up the shelves of his fridge. He pops the cap with his back still turned, let's the fridge door fall closed. "Not like you drove here, but sure. One of us should be sober, I guess."

The switch back to Evan doesn't do anything for him at all.

Buck leans back against the counter and tries not to think about how he'd had this half formed idea of getting a real tree this year, finding some novelty kiosk that made those hokey ornaments for people to mark the years they'd been a family. He'd thought -

Tommy blinks guiltily when Buck catches him eyeing the way he fills out his slacks, a toe to groin drift of his gaze that makes Buck ache for when he could respond to that by dropping to his knees.

"That's a lot of bread," Tommy notes, eyes focused somewhere over Buck's shoulder.

"Why'd you break up with me, Tommy?"

Tommy freezes. Shifts from foot to foot. Sighs, and takes a few steps to the fridge, swings it open to grab a beer of his own. It's still the stuff Tommy likes. Buck's not picky, really, and it'd been habit to grab the six pack he always kept for Tommy.

The last five times he'd restocked.

Tommy takes half a step back to lean against the island, just off center from Buck, so they both have to twist their necks just a little to actually look at each other.

"You terrify me," Tommy murmurs, a few swigs in, when the silence is just starting to make Buck's skin itch. "Evan, I'm not -." He grimaces, frustrated. "I'm not some Super Gay who fights for justice and equality and the ability to make horrible television with Hummel doll sopranists."

"I don't know what that means."

Tommy's smile is wry. He'd had a running list of movies Buck's never seen on a note on his phone - every time Buck missed a reference, he'd added it to the list. They'd gotten through maybe twenty before -

"I led on a good woman for years because I convinced myself I could live my life ignoring a huge piece of myself. I hurled slurs with my buddies just to make sure no one noticed me. I fed into every toxic stereotype I could just to avoid anyone realizing I wasn't one of them. I'm not - I'm not some Gold Star Gay, paragon of the community. I didn't do shit. And even when I made the decision to let myself just be who I always was, I waited until no one in my life was close enough to me to question that I hadn't always been this way. I -." He winces. Shakes his head. "I run instead of fighting. I hide every time someone tries to see me. I'm not - this comfort you're so convinced I have I took at the cost of other people who were braver and stronger than I could ever be. Do you - is that an admirable quality, to you?"

Buck wishes they'd sat, like Tommy seemed to have been hinting at. He wishes he'd spent the ride over preparing himself for this, instead of stopping himself from crawling into Tommy's lap and getting a horrible rider rating for his trouble. He wishes -

"Do you think I don't already know all those things about you?"

It's - actually, it makes him a little furious, to think that Tommy spent six months thinking he'd successfully hid all those things from Buck. And - sure, he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about more than a few of those things, but like -

It wasn't like Buck didn't actively find ways to pry stories from Howie and Hen, even Bobby on occasion. It wasn't like Buck hadn't noticed the clipped way Tommy spoke of his past, his family, always tucking away more than he revealed. It wasn't like Buck wasn't well aware that Tommy Kinard had the capacity to be a total fucking asshole, if he wanted. Just because he'd kept it cool around Buck, made it just flirty enough for plausible deniability -

"You deserve better than that. Than me."

"Then be better than that, Tommy." It's not the best way to get his point across, but... "I've had multiple serious relationships, Tommy. I'm - I've been in love, before, and I've had my heart broken before, and I've had my trust broken before, and I've made people I love feel like shit. You weren't new and exciting, Tommy, we were - we were boring and domestic and it was the best six months of my life. It was what I -."

And this, of course, is where the words start to crest over, too many at once while his mouth tries to keep up and his throat is too tight to -

He swallows. Stares at his toes until his vision swims. Maybe those are tears, or maybe he's just stared long enough to go cross-eyed. His throat feels like he might be able to scrape a few words out

"I go too fast sometimes. I - I get scared I'm falling behind and so I clear a few hurdles too fast to catch back up and it -." Frustration rises through him as he remembers the way Tommy had levered himself up, spun away, broken things off without even a hint of the careful consideration Buck had grown so used to. "And you just - you tell me you want more than anything to be my last but you can't even give me the closure of a clean break! What the hell was that about?"

"Evan, I -."

"No! Okay, no. It's my turn to - it's my turn to be mad. It's my turn to - do you know how lonely I've been? How - how much I'm in my own head about where I went wrong, and what I could have done differently, and why you won't just fucking text me when you clearly want to? Do you know - do you know what it's like to think you've finally found something worth the humiliation of being known and then have it vanish in a single night? Over - you never talked to me about any of the shit you brought up that night, Tommy! You never - if you were so scared of not being enough to keep me interested, or so sure you weren't a good enough man, or so sure I couldn't possibly know what I wanted out of this, you could have saved us a hell of a lot of time and - and hurt by not being exactly the person I thought I could spend the rest of my life with! If that was all a - a smokescreen, some act, then why did you - are you actually so cruel that you convinced me we were falling in love while you had one foot out the door the whole time?"

Tommy's grip on the bottle looks painful.

"It's your turn to talk," Buck snipes, and he takes a little satisfaction in the way Tommy blanches. Just a little. Just enough to ignore how much he wants to rip Tommy's suit jacket at the straining shoulder seams and bite a bruise into that spot below his collarbone that even Tommy's undershirts hid well enough to keep the team at Harbor from putting him on blast for coming to work covered in hickeys.

"Six months with you was more devastating than two decades of hiding who I was, Evan," Tommy says, and it's a horrible opening that makes Buck feel like he's being drawn and quartered but he'd given Tommy the floor, so -

Tommy's eyes are a little too misty to call them anything but welling, and Buck hates it as much as it satisfies the pieces of himself he's spent weeks trying to pick up and glue back together.

"Evan, I lived with Abby for years and I don't think I saw her as much as I saw you. You -." He swipes a hand through his hair, and rustles one of his Superman curls loose to drape tauntingly over his forehead. Buck wants to bite him. He wants it to hurt. "You burrowed in and you just kept digging and I didn't take a second to question it until it was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"For me to take the cowards way out and leave before it hurt."

"Maybe I should have dug further," Buck snaps, and Tommy's gaze flits to his. Holds, for the first time all night. He's breathtaking in the best and worst way possible. He's spent weeks now trying to imagine anyone else ever making him feel the way prolonged eye contact with this man makes him feel.

"You did," Tommy admits, a confession that sounds like it's been gut punched right out of him. "You still -." Another grimace, Tommy pulling back, pulling away, hiding, running, and Buck can't -

"So what is this, Tommy? Is this - are you -?" He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs. Rears up, pushes off the counter, and Tommy's eyes widen like he's just now realized he doesn't have an easy exit. Buck just stands there, though. "If this is it, let this be it. If you don't want - if you're not willing to fight for this with me, tell me now. I know I'm - I know I'm a lot. I know I push for more when I'm scared. I know I'm overwhelming, and I sometimes can't stop talking to save my life, and I know I'm jealous and petty and - I know I'm not perfect."

Tommy sets his bottle on the counter beside him. Worries his lip between his teeth and rolls his jaw.

"You snore. You're a bitch sometimes and every once in a while it's not even charming. You hog all the covers and then you complain that it's too hot. You're vague about every single thing in your past that you think makes you seem like a bad person. You always think food needs more garlic and sometimes you're wrong. Sometimes when I spiral you just give me that stupid indulgent smile of yours and I know you stopped listening two reddit threads ago. When you're grumpy sometimes it takes everything in me not to pick a fight because you're such an asshole. You get cagey every time I pick at a thread you don't want to unravel and I - I hate it. I wanted a life with you and you couldn't stick around long enough to tell me why you were too afraid to go for it. So if - if you think I'm seeing you with rose colored glasses, or whatever. If you think I'm not - if you think being the first guy makes you too special for this to be real then just..." He sucks in a breath. Blows it out through his nose and feels the ache in his chest that's half remnants of his earlier panic attack and half fear that Tommy will actually turn and walk out at the end of this. "If you don't wanna fight for this I'll fill in the hole I dug as best I can and I'll leave you alone, okay?"

The look on Tommy's face is one he's never seen before. They've done this dance, or parts of it, at least. Tommy'd left him outside Micelli's, breathless and confused and aching, before he ever knew what it was like to hold his hand, to press his nose into the join of his neck and shoulder, to curl a hand in his hair or be filled by him - with attention, with affection, with the weight of his body and the stretch of his cock. Even then, this had felt different. Real, in a way the misty edges of his time with Abby, or the way Buck's puzzle pieces had never quite fit with Taylor's had never been. Even then, he'd just wanted so desperately to know and be known by Tommy that he'd taken his second chance and run with it.

"I don't snore," Tommy says, when the silence gets too heavy, and Buck - god, Buck has missed that tone, the snappy little tilt of his head, the blatant lie that passes over Tommy's lips so smoothly it's hard to tell sometimes that he's not being serious.

"I have audio proof," Buck says, and then doesn't immediately admit that he'd played it on a loop two nights into the breakup when he'd wrapped his entire body around the spare pillows on his bed and still hadn't been able to sleep alone in his bed.

"It bugs me that you spent days following scraps of information about a dead outlaw you convinced yourself cursed you, but you didn't even know what a Kinsey scale was."

This is - progress. This is... not Tommy bolting.

"I'm a two. If that's - is that, like, gay enough for you, or...?"

"You go too fast for me, Buckley," he says, and Buck knows that's a fucking reference to something he doesn't have context for just as well as he knows he's willing to spend the next decade waiting for the reference to pop up on Tommy's list. It's a terrifying, exhilarating thought and it's probably exactly what Tommy means.

"I can slow down," Buck says, and he tries to mean it. Nothing about how he feels about Tommy is slow.

"I don't want you to," Tommy admits, and then lets the silence stretch. They're two and a half feet away from each other and the distance feels like the farthest he's ever been from Tommy and the closest he may ever be again. "Living together, making a life together..." He swallows. "Marriage." That stops him short just long enough to recall how he'd blazed right past the I love you and straight into how he could keep Tommy. "You scare the shit out of me every goddamn minute of every goddamn day and I've never missed being terrified as much as I have since I walked out that door."

"I'm in love with you," Buck tells him, and Tommy blinks back tears. Takes a shaky breath and nods.

"That's what scares me. It's never - it's never been enough, before."

He'd sort of expected this to end with either the echo of his KitchenAid or a frantic rush up the stairs, but when Tommy meets him halfway all he does is sink his nose into the curls behind Buck's ear and breathe.

His arms drag Buck closer, his feet shuffle beneath them, his chin hooks over Buck's shoulder and he breathes, and breathes, and breathes.

---

"Your morning breath is rancid," Tommy tells him, palm centered on Buck's nose when he leans in for a kiss, pads of his fingers curled just slightly so that his hand is nearly encasing Buck's entire face. He wants to be annoyed but it's mind numbingly hot and Buck has missed it. Missed the snark, and the comfortable way Tommy will shoot him down when his head is in the clouds, and exactly how fucking large Tommy is.

"I'm so tired of avocado toast," Buck bats back, and Tommy is distracted enough by his need to make a face at that for Buck to swoop in and press a kiss to his cheek. He makes sure to make it a little wet just to watch Tommy's face crinkle in mock disgust.

He's in one of Buck's hoodies, is wearing the pair of his own sweats Buck had buried in the back of his closet in a fit of pique three days post breakup. He still looks properly debauched and Buck wants to drag him right back to bed.

Except -

"You don't have to go," Buck repeats, for the fifth time since he brought it up somewhere between peeling Tommy out of his suit pants and rolling out of bed to warm a hand towel under the sink so that Tommy could clean the cum off his abs. "But I need to shower and leave in like - twenty-seven minutes."

Tommy catches him by the waist and drags him in. "I won't be able to stay. You baked and I took as much holiday overtime as I could, but if you seriously want me there -."

"I seriously want you everywhere."

Tommy raises a brow.

"I mean that in a horny way and a codependent way."

Tommy snorts. "Good to know we're approaching this in a healthy manner."

"You told me not to slow down," Buck reminds him, and he gets a smack to his ass for his trouble.

"When Maddie pulls me aside, do you think she'll just slip me a poisoned glass of wine, or is she gonna get up on a step stool and make me stand there while she strangles me to death?"

"She won't do that." Buck leans in again, rolls a loose curl between two fingers. "She'll just stab you in the middle of the kitchen and warn my parents not to step in the blood."

"That's comforting."

Tommy takes a utilitarian shower in the downstairs bathroom and doesn't let Buck join him, and then rifles through Buck's closet until he finds all three of his button downs Buck had tucked away.

He has to borrow a pair of Buck's slacks and Buck absolutely does not mind that his ass is definitely gonna stretch them out.

With about seventy seconds to spare, Tommy presses Buck to his front door and kisses him just long enough to screw up Buck's meticulous timing - by the time he pulls back and gives Buck enough room to glance at the time on his stove, Buck knows they're gonna hit just enough red lights to make them late.

"I love you too, by the way," Tommy murmurs, and just this once, Buck decides not to be a brat about being five minutes late.