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aboutcustardcreams · 12 hours ago

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Wake up call

Agathario x reader

Another scene I'm deeply in love with is Agatha and Rio's fight happening in the first episode. So, here it is what would happen with r joining it.

Rio leaned closer to Agatha with a lopsided grin, “I’ve missed you,” she purred, tracing her former lover’s jawline with the curved blade in her hand.

Agatha’s chest rose and fell, an expression of pure hatred flashed upon her blue eyes, mingled with a hint of something else, mabe fear. “I hate you.”

Rio lolled her head back and laughed bitterly, “course, you do.”

The day you and Agatha vowed to never see her face anymore, her heart shattered until nothing was left of it. But she was Lady Death, meaning that no matter what you wanted, someday your paths would cross again and that’s what kept her going.

You had just parked in the driveway, when an explosion coming from inside the house alerted you. On your way back from the grocery store, your memories came back one by one, and you almost hit a pedestrian or two at the realization that you and Agatha had been trapped under a spell for about three years. And now that you were ‘awake’, you were pretty sure she was too. You quickly got out of the car and stepped inside, silently praying that Agatha was okay.

Last person you thought you’d see was Rio.

“Drop the dagger now,” your voice came out sharp and dangerous.

Both witches snapped their heads towards you. Your eyes locked with Agatha’s first. She breathed a sigh of relief at your sight, her blue orbs filled with all sorts of thoughts.

“Hello, mi nena,” Rio quipped, tone softening at the sight of you. “Glad you’re awake too. Agatha and I were just.. catching up, right?”

You took a step closer, keeping your eyes on Rio. “I see– rude of you to start without me,” there was a hint of sarcasm in your voice, that both witches grasped. “Now, don’t make me repeat myself, you know I hate it.”

“Uhm, I don’t know.” Instead of listening to you, Rio pushed the blade deeper against Agatha. The witch struggled to keep the blade at distance, trembling while doing so.

Your hands turned into fists, a gust of wind rose up around you. Objects started levitating, the chandelier in the lounge room swayed and Agatha’s lips curled upwards, happy to realize your powers were still part of you.

The vibrancy of your magic brought back all sorts of memories of the time you three spent together. “Looks like our sweet girl over there is in control of her powers. How does it feel, Agatha?” Rio asked in a mocking tone. “Don’t you resent her like you resent me?”

The purple witch was quick to shake her head, scoffing to herself at the same time.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

When she looked at you, she saw one of the most incredible witches she ever had the pleasure to meet.

“You’re nothing like her.”

Rio let out a whiny sound, “why does she get special treatment and I don’t, huh?”

In the meantime, your irises turned the same color of your magic, a bright hue of silver and enveloped your entire body as well.

“She did everything she could, while you–” she winced when the tip of the dagger pressed further against her skin. “What, huh? What are you blaming me for? I’m the natural order of all the things baby, and you know it. You always knew it!”

When she pushed the blade further closer to her skin, Agatha’s grip on Rio’s wrists loosened and the dagger scraped her. While Rio grinned at the sight of Agatha’s blood flowing so deliciously from her collarbone to her chestline, you levitated from the floor and your palms opened wide, exploding with your magic.

“You’re nothing!”

Rio let out a strangled yelp, as her body was thrown on the other side of the corridor. Agatha let out a sigh of relief, mouthing a fragile thank you in your direction as you rushed towards her. You didn’t say anything at first and simply hugged her, your heart thumping in your chest at incredible speed.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, but you knew better. While that small cut wasn’t anything serious, you knew the pain in her heart was greater. You pressed your lips together, giving her a skeptical look. With a flick of your finger, you healed the wound on her skin, and for some reason, it made Agatha feel even worse, but she didn’t say anything to you.

Rio pulled herself up, stretching both arms and legs, “Ahw, did she make it better?”

Agatha growled, fingers wiggling as if she could actually summon magic.

You immediately stood in front of her, “don’t come any closer,” you warned her.

The Green Witch hummed and her brows knitted in a frown, “where did I see this scene before?”

You swallowed thickly at the painful memories she was able to bring back with such ease. You had so many questions going on inside your head, the most important would probably be, why? Why the betrayal, why the lies, why the pain?

“Cut the crap, Rio,” Agatha snapped, worrying about your sudden discomfort, “what do you want?”

She fake pouted at her angry tone, “you used to be much nicer to me,” with the tip of the blade, she moved a strand of hair from her face. And when you scoffed, a dark shadow passed through her eyes, “I’m just missing the old days. I want you back– in a way or another, meaning that if I have to kill you both, I will,” she added the last part with a strange look in her eyes. Almost hysterical. You only had a couple of seconds to react. Rio’s dagger flew in your direction, missing you and Agatha by a nose, as you shoved her to the side, shielding her with your body.

Agatha grunted at the sound of Rio’s giggles, “I’m gonna kill her.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, “it’s not possible, unfortunately.”

Propping yourself up, you helped Agatha do the same.

While doing so, you spotted the dagger behind you. You pointed at it to Agatha with a nod of your head. She was closer to the weapon so she lunged forward to grab it. Rio ignored her and focused on you. She gave you little time to anticipate her move and with a yelp she sprung forward, fuelled by her magic. Before you knew it, her fingers tightened around your neck and squeezed.

Her head lolled to the side, and watched you with a mixture of nostalgia and admiration, “naughty, naughty–”

“Let her go!” Before Agatha could even make an attempt to stab Lady Death on the shoulder, Rio sent her flying in the lounge room, her back hitting a cabinet that after the impact, crashed on top of her.

Your eyes snapped open, as you squirmed but to no avail, “Agatha!”

“Do you remember pain, my love?”

“I never stopped feeling it since the day you betrayed us.”

You still resented her for the things she did. And you probably would for the rest of your life. Her face dimmed and her lips pursed into a grimace; the grip around your neck loosened, but she didn’t let go. Was that disappointment settling in her chest?

“You’re so clueless about the things I did for you.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but despite them a choked chuckle slipped from your lips. She did nothing for you, nor for Agatha and even less for Nicky. She only took, betrayed your trust and hurt you in the most inexplicable way.

“All you did was make things worse.”

Rio snarled at your accusation,“you knew that messing with the Fates wasn’t without consequences!”

Your answer came out in a faint, yet determined whisper, “you were the one to send them my way.”

In the meantime, Agatha straightened herself out, wincing at the pain in her arms, as shreds of glass cut through her skin. She scanned the surroundings in search of something, anything that could be used against Rio. While her eyes landed on a wooden tray, Rio blasted you against the wall behind you with full demoniac force, her voice distorted as well, sounding deeper and animalistic, “I had no other choice!”

Agatha mentally screamed at the chunks of plaster coming down at you.

You whimpered, feeling Rio’s body towering over yours, “sorry, did it tickle too much?”

Despite the dizziness, you found the sassiness to roll your shoulders, “No.” With the corner of your eye, you spotted Agatha coming your way, holding something in her hands. Realizing what it was made you almost chuckle. “But I bet this will.”

Before Rio could ask you what you meant, the purple witch hit the back of her head with an angry growl and a deadly stare in the eye.

“Dark Mother, I’m so sick of her,” she muttered, glancing back at you.

You chuckled briefly, before erupting into a fit of coughs. Your throat felt on fire because of Rio. You were pretty sure it was bruising already for how much she squeezed. Agatha kneeled in front of you, her fingers hovering over your neck, but barely touching it, for fear of causing you extra pain, “I’m sorry about–”

“Don’t. The ‘s’ word isn’t allowed,” you chided her softly. She nibbled the inside of her cheek, blinking back the tears from her eyes. She hated feeling powerless, even more now considering you could really use some of her purple as backup.

Noticing the veil of sadness in her eyes, you tried to cheer her up, giving her a playful nudge, “what you did was rather hot by the way.”

She snorted out a laugh, “are you turned on, love?”

A playful smirk tugged at your lips, “maybe.”

She pulled you closer, tugging at the fabric of your blouse. Her forehead adhered against yours and you closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to inhale her sweet. Her hand ran from your collarbone up to your chin, her thumb gently grazed your bottom lip, pushing it down and making you smile. When you reopened your eyes, you took her hand in yours, and intertwined your fingers together in the attempt to brush aside all the worries you spotted in her eyes.

Rio let out a frustrated growl, “Good job, Agatha. I’m impressed. A little higher and that would have really hurt.”

On instinct, you tried to move Agatha behind you, but she resisted, making you frown.

“Ugh!” Rio swept her tongue over her lips, “the way she would throw herself in Hell for you really warms my heart.”

You said nothing because it was true. You would do the craziest things for her, just like you did for Nicky.

Agatha smacked her lips, almost laughing in her face. “Please, you don’t have a heart.”

Rio locked eyes with her, and for a moment you spotted a veil of hurt in her brown orbs. “Yes, I do,” she argued, before dropping her voice into a softer murmur, “it’s black and it beats for both of you.”

Agatha said nothing, while you couldn’t bring yourself to be quiet after that colossal lie, “you’re pathetic.”

Her gaze narrowed towards you; a flash of fury dimmed her features. “Madness turned you into a real brat. Perhaps you fancy another ride?”

You swallowed thickly and turned stiff. Those words stung painfully, there was no point in hiding it. You hated how easily she could bring back the memories of your trauma, making you feel as if you were reviving it all over again.

A single tear slipped from your eye, but you were quick to wipe it. Agatha’s hand found yours and squeezed; she felt your magic tickling her skin, it was mirroring your emotions and she knew it would burst soon.

“You’re a monster,” Agatha’s voice came out in hiss.

Then it happened. You let go of Agatha’s hand and tackled Rio on the floor. Her back hit the ground with force, and despite that, she laughed. You pinned her wrists above her head, digging your fingernails into her skin, wishing to hurt, to tear the skin apart, and make her feel even an ounce of the pain you endured because of her.

Agatha’s eyes widened both in shock and surprise at your outburst.

“My, my, aren’t you sexy when you’re mad?”

You smacked her across the face. Hard.

“Woah, okay girl–”, she conceded, calling a truce, “tell me what you want.”

“I want you to get the fuck out of my life.”

Rio lifted her chin up, a dark chuckle escaped her lips, “All roads lead to me, mi nena. Whether you like it or not, you’ll die. Why can’t we speed up the process?”

“You’re not allowed to kill us,” your voice dropped in an icy growl.

“I second that,” Agatha quipped.

Rio scoffed amusedly, “are you sure about that?” Before you could respond with another sassy remark, she headbutted you straight on the nose. You fell to the side, letting go of Rio’s wrists and allowing her to flee from your grasp. You groaned and cursed under your breath, when she kicked your side with the boot of her shoe. Agatha took you in her arms, as quickly as she could, then started crawling backwards with you firmly pressed against her chest, “you okay?”

“Fine,” you croaked out, in annoyance.

By the look on your bloody face, she realized you’d very well use a break.

But Rio seemed to have other ideas, the knife was back in her hand as she approached you.

“Wait, just wait a damn second–” Agatha held out a hand towards the Green Witch, while the other remained wrapped around your underarms.

Rio hummed and traced the tip of the blade with her fingertips.

“This isn’t what you want. Plus, I don’t have any powers so it’s not exactly a fair fight, is it?” She gave a nervous chuckle, hoping her words would buy you some time to recover. “Don’t you want us at our best?”

Rio grinned, with a devilish light in her eyes, “Horizontal, in a grave?”

“Not exactly,” she muttered, “I mean, in full control of our powers. Just let me get my purple back, let her recover and if you really want to– come back and find us.”

Your breath hitched, it was hard to breathe properly with the blood clogging your nostrils. You summoned your magic, and despite being a tad weaker, you knew it could heal you if given proper time.

“Why don’t you take mine?” Rio’s suggestion made your stomach lurch.

“That’s cute,” Agatha mused. “But you know that would kill me.”

“Then what about hers?”

It didn’t seem like a terrible idea to you. But Agatha’s answer was categorical, “No.”

You looked up at her, noticing the hesitation in her features. Maybe fear too. Truth was, she didn’t trust herself to do such a thing, not to you. You knew she found immense pleasure in sucking away powers from witches, she knew it was wrong, and for years the only reason why she did that was to keep Nicky alive. That’s the reason why you helped her do it. As a mother you could back up from your responsibilities and as a witch, you learned the hard way that in order to survive you had to do all sorts of things.

There was something about your magic that scared Agatha. You were the only necromancer witch she ever crossed paths with, so she wasn’t sure she would be able to pull away from you, once she got a taste of your forbidden magic.

Rio pursed her lips in a grimace, “you’re such a coward.”

“She isn’t,” you argued back.

When Rio finally put the dagger down, both you and Agatha frowned in confusion. “Show me, then. Blast her. Help her restore her purple.”

“We aren’t doing this, Rio,” Agatha insisted rather adamantly.

“I’d think about it before making a decision, my love,” Rio leaned closer, her voice soft and eerily calm. “You see, I'm not the only one that wishes you dead. I’d expect guests at sundown.”

You frowned at her words, “who do you mean?”

Rio’s eyes flashed with excitement. “The worst of them. The Salem Seven.”

For a moment both you and Agatha fell quiet. You felt Agatha turn still behind you, and your heart ached for her. You turned to face her, as the grip around your middle loosened.

“Hey, I’m here, Agatha,” your voice came out both firm and tender. “It’s going to be alright”

Rio laughed softly at that. She shoved your shoulder in a playful way, “I have a feeling we will meet again, very soon.”

She paused where once it stood the front door, “Hasta luego,” she waved her fingers before stepping out of the house.

You considered Rio’s words, and as much as you wished to find another solution, there wasn’t really another way to restore Agatha’s powers, especially not in such a short time.

“Maybe–”

“Don’t,” she cut you off, sharply.

You raised your hands defensively, “Fine, sorry. But I think we should at least think about it.”

When she didn’t respond, you decided to give her a moment. Pushing yourself up, your eyes darted to the mess around you. There were pieces of furniture pretty much everywhere, shreds of glass, plates and cutlery and even sections of ripped wallpaper, along with chunks of plasters, “this is not how I imagined to spend this Friday…” you hoped your little joke would put a smile on Agatha’s face, but she remained motionless.

Agatha started to regret having woken up by Wanda’s spell. Now not only was she awake, but she had no power, the Salem Seven and Rio wanted her dead, her house was falling to pieces, and on top of that, you were in potential danger because of her. The only reason why she survived the loss of Nicky was because of you. But if she lost you too…

She clenched her eyes and took a deep breath, refusing to dwell in such thoughts.

“Uhm, Agatha?” You were wrong to think nothing else could surprise you that day.

She made a hum sound, finally getting on her feet, face turned towards you.

“Why is there a gagged boy in our wardrobe?”

#agatha all along #rio vidal #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #wlw #lesbians #kathryn hahn #aubrey plaza #lady death

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brunchable · 2 days ago

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𝗠𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 [ 2 ]

Part One Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Sexual Innuendo/humour,Guy next door, situational comedy? Sexual Themes 18+ ONLY: fingering, cunnilingus, Bucky loves tiddies, dirty talk. Summary: Though you've become oddly close to SergeantBarnes, it's still difficult to act normal around him. A/N: I didn't think many would ask for a part two but here you go. divider by @cafekitsune

It was a peaceful evening in the apartment gym—or, at least, it was supposed to be. You had your plan: thirty minutes on the stair climber, some stretches, and you’d be out of there before any awkwardness could find you.

But then you heard it—the unmistakable sound of weights clanging, followed by a deep, low grunt that made your entire body freeze.

You glanced up, hoping against hope that it wasn’t who you thought it was. But, of course, there he was: Bucky, over at the hip thrust machine, setting up his weights directly in front of you. Perfect, you thought. Of all the machines in here, he has to pick the most… suggestive one.

Your eyes flicked back to the tiny screen on your machine. Stay focused, you told yourself. Don’t look. Just ignore him.

But the moment he started his set, you heard it—a low, powerful grunt that practically reverberated through the gym. You immediately bit down on your lip, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead, pretending you weren’t having flashbacks to his other kind of workouts.

Another deep grunt.

Your hands clenched the stair climber’s handles like a lifeline. Do NOT look, you told yourself, the mantra echoing in your mind. But your treacherous eyes slid sideways, just for a second, and you caught a glimpse of him, face focused, breaths heavy as he powered through each hip thrust. The guy was practically a one-man gym commercial.

You looked away, focusing on your steps—your very uneven, slightly panicked steps. It’s just a hip thrust, for crying out loud! Nothing unusual here, you told yourself, trying to stomp out the heat creeping up your cheeks. But every time he exhaled, your mind filled with images of… well, his other performances.

Then, in the middle of one of his reps, Bucky let out a particularly deep, guttural grunt that nearly threw you off balance. Your foot slipped, your rhythm stuttered, and in a moment of pure panic, you clutched the handles and stumbled forward, practically throwing yourself onto the machine.

“Shit!” you yelped, fumbling to regain your balance as your legs moved faster than your brain, desperately trying not to faceplant.

You heard Bucky chuckle, that low, infuriatingly amused laugh, and felt your cheeks practically ignite. You looked up, heart pounding, only to find him smirking in your direction, eyes dancing with mischief.

“Careful there, Y/N,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Stair climbers are brutal.”

“Oh, yeah, totally!” you squeaked, straightening up, trying to look like you meant to almost eat it. “Just… keeping things interesting. Got to keep the cardio exciting, you know?”

“Looks like it’s working,” he replied, wiping his forehead with a towel, his grin widening as he noticed your death grip on the machine. “You sure you’re good over there?”

“Oh, I’m… I’m great,” you lied, your face flaming as you tried to regain your composure. But he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Glad to hear it,” he said, voice way too smooth. He paused, then tilted his head, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Gotta admit, though… this machine setup does feel a bit familiar.”

Your brain nearly exploded. Did he just—? He couldn’t mean… But his eyes sparkled with that infuriating, knowing look, and you knew exactly what he was hinting at. Your face went beet red as your foot slipped again, but this time you managed to catch yourself, narrowly avoiding another disaster.

“Uh-huh,” you said, laughing nervously, desperately trying to hold it together. “Well, enjoy your… uh, workout!”

“Oh, I am,” he said, chuckling softly. “Especially with the view.” He winked, setting up for another set while you tried not to spontaneously combust.

With one final, mortified glance, you turned your attention back to the stair climber, mentally swearing you’d never step foot in this gym again after this.

Since you survived the stair climber ordeal without faceplanting (barely), you decided it was time to move on. Somewhere—anywhere—that didn’t involve Bucky’s hip thrusts or his incessant, maddening smirk.

You zeroed in on the bench press. Safe, you thought, relieved. Just a standard exercise. Nothing suggestive, no chance of stumbling, tripping, or looking like a klutz. You grabbed the bar, took a deep breath, and mentally prepped yourself. Easy-peasy.

And then—because the universe simply refused to give you a break—you heard that all-too-familiar voice right beside you.

“Need a spot?”

You looked up and almost swallowed your tongue. There was Bucky, looming over you with that same damn smirk, wiping his hands on a towel like he was gearing up for some personal training session from your worst/best nightmares.

“Oh, uh… I—” you stammered, already feeling the heat creep up your neck. You’ve got this, you told yourself. Just let him help you. No big deal. You’re a mature, fully-functioning adult.

“Yeah, sure!” you squeaked, trying to sound normal as he stepped closer, positioning himself behind the bench. You laid back, gripping the bar, and immediately realized what a horrible, terrible mistake this was. You were now lying flat on your back, Bucky leaning over you, his face far too close as he focused on making sure you could lift the weight.

“You ready?” he asked, his face all business, but his lips still had that mischievous curve.

“Ready,” you mumbled, eyes darting anywhere but up at him, trying to ignore how absolutely awkwardly intimate this felt. You started your set, breathing steadily as you lifted the bar, determined to act as if this were a completely normal workout.

But then, midway through the reps, he leaned down a little closer. “By the way, did you check out my new video?”

Your hands nearly slipped. You fumbled the bar, barely catching it as your brain short-circuited.

“W-What?” you managed, voice strangled, heart racing.

“My new video,” he repeated, casually reaching out to help guide the bar back into place as you struggled not to lose it. “Thought you might’ve seen it by now.”

Your cheeks flamed, but you somehow managed to choke out, “N-No! I… I haven’t seen it!”

Bucky chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow as he straightened up, his voice taking on a teasing, almost disappointed tone.

“Oh. That’s a shame,” he said, smirk lingering. “Didn’t have a costar this time—just me, actually. First time I’ve ever done that.”

Your mouth dropped open. Just him? Your brain skidded to a halt. Suddenly, you were far too interested in a video you’d just denied seeing.

“Oh, um… interesting?” you squeaked, trying to keep your face neutral but definitely failing.

“Yeah,” he replied with a shrug, looking at you with twinkling eyes. “Guess you’ll have to let me know what you think… whenever you get around to it.”

“Actually, I… uh… I kind of stopped watching… since we, you know… know each other. Just… feels awkward.”

Bucky’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up with amusement.

“Oh, so you’re telling me we’re too close for you to watch my work now?” He raised an eyebrow, looking mockingly offended. “I thought we were supporting local artists.”

Your cheeks practically combusted as he said it, and you fumbled with the bar, desperately trying to pretend you hadn’t heard him. Supporting local artists? Was he serious right now?

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, absolutely mortified. “This is not— You’re not— I mean…!”

But he just looked down at you, that smug grin firmly in place as he leaned in, clearly enjoying every second of your flustered state.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Don’t you believe in supporting the arts?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, words completely failing you. “This… this is not the same!” you finally blurted, clutching the bar like it was your only lifeline.

“Oh really?” he replied, chuckling. “Because it sounds like you’re saying we’re too close for me to keep doing what I do. You know, my passion.”

You practically choked, waving your hands around in frantic denial. “No! No! That’s not— I’m not stopping you! I’m just— I don’t know, maybe supporting from a… distant, supportive spiritual place?”

He laughed outright, shaking his head. “So, what—you’re like cheering me on… but from across the street?”

You nodded vigorously, still trying to save face. “Exactly! Just… supportive… but in a non-participatory kind of way.”

“Got it,” he said, smirking. “So, I’m officially your guilty pleasure now.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as he chuckled, clearly far too pleased with himself.

Note to self: Avoid all future conversations with Bucky Barnes for the rest of eternity.

× × × ×

That evening, you were finally settled at your dining table, a bowl of pasta in front of you, determined to put the entire gym disaster behind you. You’d survived another encounter with Bucky—barely—and now all you wanted was some quiet, non-embarrassing time with carbs.

But as you twirled your fork in the noodles, your brain betrayed you, replaying his words from earlier.

“Did you check out my new video?”

You paused mid-bite, the fork hovering near your mouth as you stared blankly at the wall, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and dread bubbling up. What could he have meant by “just me”? You tried to shake it off, forcing another forkful of pasta into your mouth. Nope, not going there.

But the thought lingered, nudging you, until you found yourself setting down the fork, fingers hovering over your phone. Just one quick search, you reasoned, glancing around your empty apartment as if someone might catch you.

You typed in the familiar site, thumbs hesitating above the search bar, nearly typing “SergeantBarnes new video” before you snapped back to reality, dropping the phone like it burned.

“Oh, no,” you muttered to yourself, horrified at how close you’d come. “Absolutely not. What am I, insane?”

You shoved another forkful of pasta into your mouth, shaking your head furiously. “I am not doing this.”

But as you continued eating, your eyes kept darting back to the phone, the curiosity gnawing at you, leaving you torn between common sense and the very persuasive power of nosiness.

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists. “Get a grip, Y/N. You are absolutely not watching that video.”

...But maybe just a preview?

You groaned, stuffing your face with more pasta, determined to win this internal battle.

× × × ×

The next morning, just as you were heading out the door for work, you spotted something bright and obnoxiously neon-colored taped to the wall near the mailboxes. Curiosity got the better of you, and you stepped closer, squinting at the bold, glittery letters.

POOL PARTY THIS WEEKEND! it proclaimed. Food, drinks, music, fun! Don’t miss it!

You raised an eyebrow, debating if you’d actually brave a building-wide party when suddenly, the quiet hallway was shattered by a loud, unmistakably ecstatic moan. The kind that could only mean one thing.

From none other than Bucky’s apartment.

You froze, eyes widening in disbelief. Is that—? Is he—?

A second moan, even louder than the first, confirmed it. This wasn’t just any moan; this was the sound of someone—some woman—having the time of her life. At what had to be eight o’clock in the morning.

“Oh, seriously?!” you hissed under your breath, glancing down the hallway as if there might be witnesses to this auditory ambush. Just then, the woman’s voice hit a pitch so high it practically reverberated off the walls.

You winced, clutching your bag like it could somehow shield you from this. Who even has that much energy in the morning? You took a step back, hoping to escape the sonic nightmare, but the moans only got louder, each sound more animated than the last.

You threw your hands over your ears, eyes squeezed shut as you muttered furiously to yourself.

“Nope, nope, absolutely not. Not today, not right now.” You spun on your heel, practically power-walking down the hall, doing your best to drown out the soundtrack blaring from his apartment.

“YES, SERGEANT! OH MY GOD!”

You practically stumbled, muttering an alarmed, “Oh my god, stop!” as you picked up the pace, pressing your hands even harder against your ears. It was like some kind of cruel game—the closer you got to the elevator, the louder it seemed to get, echoing in your ears like a siren you couldn’t escape.

You winced, feeling your face burn as you all but sprinted down the hall, chanting, “Nope, nope, NOPE!” under your breath like a mantra. It was as if your feet couldn’t carry you fast enough, each step a desperate attempt to put some distance between you and… whatever was happening in that apartment.

Finally, you made it to the elevator, slamming your finger against the button with more force than necessary, glancing nervously over your shoulder as if the sounds might follow you. The doors mercifully slid open, and you dove inside, leaning back against the wall and pressing your hands over your ears one last time, breathing a sigh of relief.

But just as the doors began to close, one last triumphant shout echoed down the hallway, loud and clear, like the universe had decided you hadn’t suffered enough.

You groaned, staring up at the ceiling as the doors shut, wondering if this building had any quiet hours, or if you were doomed to start every morning with a full-blown soundscape of… Bucky’s extracurricular activities.

Note to self: Invest in earplugs. Maybe some noise-canceling headphones. Or a new apartment altogether.

× × × ×

You arrived at work looking like you’d barely survived a natural disaster. Traumatized, sleep-deprived, and still hearing the morning’s very loud soundtrack echoing in your mind, you slumped into your chair, hoping to quietly blend into the office scenery and get through the day in peace.

Naturally, that was too much to ask.

“Whoa,” Trish said, swiveling in her chair to eye you like you were a science experiment gone wrong. “You look like you just spent a night in a haunted house.”

“Or… like you had a wild morning,” Amy added, raising her eyebrows. “You okay there, Y/N?”

“Fine,” you muttered, barely making eye contact as you set your bag down, trying to erase the vivid flashbacks of Bucky’s… extremely enthusiastic co-worker.

Before you could even recover, Trish leaned in, her grin spreading like wildfire. “Sooo… did you finally get around to watching Sergeant Barnes’ new video?”

Your head snapped up, heart stopping in your chest. “Wha—no! Why would I… I mean… I—”

“Oh, come on,” Amy said, nudging you like she’d just caught you in a guilty pleasure. “You don’t know what you’re missing. He’s alone in this one.” She leaned closer, adding in a stage whisper, “The man has talent.”

“Uh-huh,” Trish agreed, nodding like a sage. “No costars this time. Just him, going all in. It’s… impressive.”

You clutched the edge of your desk, mentally scrambling for any kind of response that would shut them down without revealing the secret you swore you’d take to the grave: that Sergeant Barnes was actually your neighbor.

You swallowed, managing to squeak out, “You know we’re in an office, right? As in, the place we do work?”

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re all professional now!” Trish smirked, crossing her arms as she gave you a knowing look. “You were all too eager to do some ‘research’ when we told you about him the first time.”

“Yeah!” Amy joined in, her grin absolutely diabolical. “You should be thanking us! The way you’re looking right now, I’d bet you already took a look this morning.”

You spluttered, mortified. “No! I mean, of course not! It’s just—this is… inappropriate.”

Amy snorted, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh, sure. And here I thought you had a little curiosity.”

You glared, fully prepared to tell them off, but Amy cut in first, smirking as she leaned over your desk.

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s just us girls. Tell me you don’t have some curiosity about what the man can do when it’s just him and the camera.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, struggling to keep your cool. “No, I’m not curious! Not at all. And maybe you two shouldn’t be either, because, oh, I don’t know… WE ARE AT WORK!”

They both cracked up, sharing a delighted high-five as you buried your face in your hands, praying for the ground to open up and swallow you.

“Oh, we’re just messing with you,” Trish said, barely holding back laughter. “But seriously, girl… you look like you need to unwind. Maybe with a drink or… you know… a little quality screen time?”

“Or maybe someone live and in-person?” Amy chimed in, waggling her eyebrows.

You groaned, face down on your desk, cursing the fact that they would never, ever know the full story.

× × × ×

You stepped into the lobby, utterly drained from the day, just as the elevator doors began to slide shut. Without a second thought, you bolted, slipping in right before they closed. Only then did you realize the universe was playing tricks on you.

Because standing right there, with a half-smirk on his face and way too much knowing mischief in his eyes, was Bucky. Alone.

You froze, instantly regretting every choice that had led to this moment. But it was too late now, so you plastered on a polite smile and tried not to look like a deer caught in headlights.

Bucky’s eyes twinkled as he took you in, leaning casually against the side of the elevator as he said, “Tired?”

You laughed, and before you could stop it, the laugh turned into a borderline deranged chuckle.

“Oh, yes, thank you very much,” you replied, sarcasm slipping out before you could rein it in. Then, muttering under your breath but clearly audible, you added, “Maybe keep it down too… in the morning.”

He chuckled, looking way too amused. “Sorry about that. Work, you know? She, uh… went home right after, don��t worry.”

Your face went flaming hot, and you whipped your head to look straight ahead, pressing your lips together like that would somehow save you from this horror.

“Oh, you don’t… you don’t have to explain it to me,” you stammered, feeling like your cheeks were practically on fire. “I’m not worried.”

The smirk only widened. “Good to know.” He leaned in just a little, adding, “I wouldn’t want to keep you up… unintentionally.”

You choked, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as you let out a mortified laugh that you could barely stop from turning into a squeak. Just get to your floor, just get to your floor… you chanted internally, keeping your gaze laser-focused on the elevator doors.

But you could feel him watching you, could practically feel the amusement radiating off him as you tried to pretend that your life hadn’t just devolved into a rom-com nightmare.

Finally—finally—the elevator dinged at your floor. You stepped out, sighing with relief, only for Bucky to step out right behind you.

“Hey,” he called, making you pause and turn reluctantly. He was smiling, hands casually shoved into his pockets as he looked you over. “Are you coming to the rooftop pool party this weekend?”

“No,” you replied flatly, the answer escaping before you could even pretend to think about it.

He laughed, clearly not deterred. “Aw, come on. You sure? It’ll be fun.”

You shook your head vigorously, waving him off. “No, no, I’m good. I’m… not much of a party person.”

“Really?” he replied, stepping a little closer, his smile turning into something dangerously persuasive. “It’s just neighbors hanging out, not some crazy nightclub thing. Good music, food… probably no loud… work, either.”

You glared, suppressing an eye roll as he gave you a wink. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, still grinning. “If you don’t show up, who am I going to talk to about all the ‘work’ complaints?”

You stifled a laugh, trying to maintain your resolve. “Pretty sure there are other people you can bother with that.”

“But none of them have your… constructive feedback,” he replied, his gaze dropping to the floor as he pretended to look shy. “And honestly, I need someone to keep me in check. I’m a handful at parties. Who else is going to stop me from climbing onto tables?”

You snorted, crossing your arms as you tried not to crack a smile. “I highly doubt you’re a handful at a pool party.”

He raised an eyebrow, challenging you. “Come and find out.”

You looked away, shaking your head but feeling the corners of your mouth tug upward. “Bucky, I’m not going.”

“So, you’re saying you’ll leave me up there with all these people who… don’t know me as well as you do?” He tilted his head, giving you a mock-pout.

Your face turned red, and you sputtered, “I don’t know you! I barely know you!”

“Oh, so all those research sessions weren’t exactly getting to know me?” he replied, grinning as he watched you turn an even deeper shade of crimson.

“You—ugh, you’re impossible,” you muttered, finally laughing despite yourself.

“That’s what everyone says,” he said, his voice softening just a little as he held your gaze. “Come on, Y/N. I promise, no loud work. I’ll even save you a spot.”

You sighed, feeling the last bit of resistance crumble. “Fine. But only for an hour.”

He beamed, triumphant. “Deal. And who knows? Maybe we’ll find something to actually talk about… outside of work.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart did a little flip. This is going to be a disaster, you thought. But somehow, you didn’t mind as much as you thought you would.

× × × ×

The weekend took forever to arrive, but somehow, you survived it—mostly by avoiding Bucky and doing your best not to think about that ridiculously intriguing video he’d hinted at. Nope, not even a peek. It was your own personal victory, though it took every ounce of willpower you had.

And now, here you were, standing at the rooftop entrance, mentally psyching yourself up. You’d put on a two-piece swimsuit under a white sheer cover-up, feeling only slightly self-conscious as you stepped out. Only because you hated drawing attention to your body.

The party was already in full swing, a mix of upbeat music and laughter filling the air. You scanned the crowd for a certain troublemaking neighbor, but no sign of him. Great, you thought, rolling your eyes. Bucky drags me up here, then vanishes like an ass. Typical.

You made a beeline for an empty lounge chair, setting down your bag and towel, hoping you’d have a chance to relax before anyone else noticed you. But just as you were about to sit, a deep voice called out.

“Hey there!”

You turned to see an equally impressive figure—a tall, muscular guy with a sun-kissed smile, striding over with a confident swagger.

“I’m Johnny,” he said, flashing a grin as he handed you a cold glass of beer. “Welcome to the party.”

“Oh! Thanks,” you said, taking the glass, feeling only slightly overwhelmed by all the testosterone on this rooftop. “Nice to meet you, Johnny.”

“Likewise,” he said, eyes flicking over you with the appreciation of someone who knew exactly what he was looking at. “Didn’t expect to see a new face up here. I know most of the regulars.”

“Yeah, I… usually keep to myself,” you admitted, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze.

“Well, glad you’re here,” he said smoothly, gesturing to a chair beside yours. “Mind if I join you?”

Before you could answer, another familiar voice cut through the air, low and unmistakably amused. “Johnny.”

You turned slowly, bracing yourself for whatever cocky look Bucky had in store, but when you finally laid eyes on him, your brain just… stopped. No thoughts, head empty, because the second he strolled into view, you swore you heard the sultry opening saxophone of Careless Whisper start playing, echoing dramatically in your head like some corny, slow-motion rom-com entrance.

He moved in perfect sync to the imaginary music in your head, each step more absurdly cinematic than the last. This can’t be happening, you thought, but somehow, there he was—tan skin, swim trunks slung just right, and that damn casual shirt hanging open over his shoulders. The man looked like a vacation ad, except he was bringing you dangerously close to a heatstroke.

As he got closer, the sax solo in your mind reached ridiculous, life-altering levels of intensity. Why do you have to look like this? you thought, nearly choking on the vision before you. Bucky’s smirk turned into something almost smug, like he knew exactly what effect he was having, as if he, too, could hear the George Michael anthem of seduction playing in your head. You half-expected him to whip out an actual saxophone and start serenading you right there.

You swallowed, barely keeping yourself from drooling, and willed yourself to stay composed. Get a grip, you told yourself, though you were about 98% certain your jaw was on the verge of dropping.

“Sorry, Johnny,” he said smoothly, not even glancing at the other guy. “I think she already has company.”

You quickly tried to compose yourself, forcing a neutral expression as you willed your face not to betray the sheer catastrophe your brain was going through.

“Oh, hey, Bucky,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t sound as strangled as you felt. Inside, you were practically screaming. Why do you have to look like a freaking Greek god, Barnes? It’s rude, honestly.

Johnny raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking between the two of you, clearly picking up on the tension. “You two know each other?”

Bucky leaned casually against the lounge chair next to yours, flashing a grin that practically oozed mischief.

“You could say that. She’s my neighbor,” he said, his tone implying… well, all sorts of things. You immediately knew that everyone within earshot was definitely getting the wrong idea. “And I’ve been trying to get her to come out of her shell for a while now.”

Come out of her shell? You wanted to throttle him. But before you could retort, Johnny, ever the gentleman, just gave you a knowing wink and clapped Bucky on the shoulder.

“Well, guess I’ll let you take over, then,” he said, sauntering off with an amused smile.

You sighed, turning to face Bucky, who looked all too pleased with himself as he settled in beside you, stretching out like he owned the place.

“So, you made it,” he said, taking a leisurely sip of his drink as his eyes did a once-over that was a little too thorough.

“Yep,” you replied, your voice barely concealing your exasperation. “I showed up, just like I said I would. Where were you?”

He shrugged, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “Was just giving you a chance to make some new friends,” he said, his tone way too casual.

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of the beer Johnny had given you. “Please. You just love making an entrance.”

He chuckled, clinking his glass with yours. “Can’t say you’re wrong about that.”

As he leaned back, his gaze lingered a little too long, making your cheeks heat up.

“Nice cover-up, by the way,” he commented, smirk widening. “It’s… modest.”

You shot him a look, feeling suddenly self-conscious about the sheer fabric draped over your swimsuit. “Why, thank you. That was kind of the point.”

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice dropping just a notch. “Shame, though. Bet that swimsuit’s got a whole lot of personality under there.”

You practically choked on your drink, coughing as you glared at him. “You’re such a flirt, Barnes.”

He chuckled, clearly unbothered by your reaction. “Hey, just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

You settled back in your chair, determined not to let him get the upper hand. But as you sat there, pretending to ignore him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite everything, you were enjoying this game just as much as he was.

You took a deep breath, narrowing your eyes at Bucky, who was looking far too pleased with himself.

“Like I said, just one hour,” you told him firmly, crossing your arms as if that would somehow fortify your resolve against whatever mischievous plans he undoubtedly had.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning even more devilish. “Oh, I’m sure an hour will be more than enough.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “For what? So you can drive me insane and then sit back and enjoy the show?”

He chuckled, leaning a little closer, and you felt your heart rate spike. “Maybe. But I was thinking more along the lines of just… keeping you entertained.”

“Oh, I’m plenty entertained, thanks,” you shot back, trying to sound unimpressed despite the heat creeping up your neck.

He shrugged, unfazed, and settled back into his lounge chair.

“Good. Then let’s make it the best hour of your week,” he said, flashing you a wink that sent a new wave of exasperation—and, annoyingly, a bit of excitement—through you.

You huffed, shaking your head as you took a sip of your drink, determined not to let him see just how much that smirk was affecting you. Just one hour, you reminded yourself. What could possibly happen in one hour?

As you and Bucky settled into a strange, almost comfortable silence, you heard a booming voice from across the pool.

“CHICKEN FIGHT!” Johnny’s voice rang out, loud and enthusiastic, immediately grabbing everyone’s attention.

You whipped your head around, eyes widening. Johnny was wading into the pool, rallying everyone like some kind of pool party commander. “Come on! Everyone in! We need two teams!”

“Oh, no,” you muttered under your breath, instinctively shrinking into your lounge chair, hoping you’d be overlooked in the shuffle. Absolutely not happening, you thought, clutching your drink like a lifeline.

But Bucky, of course, was already grinning ear to ear. He turned to you, his eyes gleaming with excitement and mischief.

“You heard him,” he said, patting your shoulder like this was some team-building exercise. “We’re going in.”

“What? No!” you hissed, clutching your drink tighter as if that would save you. “I didn’t sign up for a chicken fight. I’m just here for moral support.”

Bucky laughed, standing up and stretching in that way that only he could pull off without looking ridiculous.

“Oh, come on,” he said, flashing you that smug, challenging grin. “Afraid of a little friendly competition?”

You shook your head, digging your heels in. “Nope. Not happening. And it’s not friendly—it’s dangerous!”

“Oh, don’t be such a chicken.” His smirk widened, and then, with a theatrical sigh, he added, “Guess I’ll just have to find someone braver.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh, you’re really going to play that card?”

He shrugged, glancing around with feigned disappointment. “Guess so. Shame though. I thought you could handle it.”

It was the final straw. With an exasperated groan, you threw down your drink and stood up.

“Fine! I’ll do it.” The second the words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them, especially as you saw Bucky’s smirk morph into full-blown satisfaction.

“Perfect,” he said, clearly thrilled with himself.

You sighed, slipping off your sheer cover-up, feeling a sudden self-consciousness as you stood there in just your swimsuit. Bucky’s gaze flicked over you with open admiration, his grin widening just a bit. You forced yourself to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, rolling your eyes at his blatant staring.

“Enjoying the view?” you deadpanned.

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat, his eyes twinkling. “But we’ve got a fight to win.”

Before you could second-guess your decision, he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the pool. Johnny spotted the two of you and cheered, pumping his fist in the air. “Yes! We got a team! Bucky and… Y/N, right?”

You forced a smile, giving him a thumbs-up while silently planning your escape route. But before you knew it, you were waist-deep in the water, Bucky hoisting you up with surprising ease, positioning you on his shoulders.

“Oh my god, this is insane,” you muttered, gripping onto his head for balance as he adjusted to your weight. “I feel like a five-year-old at a theme park.”

“Just hold on,” he chuckled, steadying himself under you. “I’ve got you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his hands firmly held your thighs, and suddenly, this was a whole new level of intense. Focus on the fight, not the incredibly attractive man holding you in the pool, you told yourself, cheeks flaming.

Johnny waded over with his partner—a muscular, tattooed guy named Jake who was definitely taking this way too seriously.

“Ready to lose, Barnes?” Jake taunted, grinning up at you.

Bucky chuckled, his hands tightening on your legs just slightly. “Not a chance.”

“Alright, you’re up top!” Johnny yelled, clapping his hands. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

You barely had time to brace yourself before Jake and his partner charged at you, water splashing everywhere as they made their move. Instinctively, you shrieked, grabbing onto Bucky’s hair for dear life as the force of the impact sent you both wobbling.

“Easy on the hair!” Bucky grunted, though he was laughing, his shoulders steadying beneath you as he held his ground.

“Oh, sorry!” you gasped, adjusting your grip. But before you could even catch your breath, Jake’s partner was lunging at you again, arms flailing as he tried to knock you off balance.

“Oh, no you don’t!” you muttered, your competitive spirit kicking in. You threw your hands out, grabbing his wrists and pushing back with everything you had, determined to hold your ground.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Bucky cheered from below, his laughter bubbling up as he shifted to help keep you steady. “Show ‘em what you’ve got!”

Fueled by his encouragement—and a surprising amount of adrenaline—you leaned forward, pushing against Jake’s partner with all your strength. The guy’s face twisted in concentration, but with one final shove, you managed to throw him off balance. He teetered, arms flailing, before finally toppling backward into the water with a massive splash.

“Yes!” you shouted, punching the air triumphantly as Johnny and Jake went down in a flurry of water and defeat. “Suck on that!”

The words had barely left your mouth when reality crashed back in. You blinked, suddenly realizing that maybe—just maybe—you’d gotten a little too carried away. Oh god, did I really just shout that? you thought, the heat rushing to your cheeks as your triumphant grin quickly turned into a sheepish smile.

“Well, look at you,” Bucky chuckled from below, clearly amused by your victory-induced outburst. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Yeah, well… neither did I,” you muttered, feeling the embarrassment settling in as you tried to slide off his shoulders, desperate to save whatever shred of dignity you had left. But as you started to wriggle down, you realized Bucky’s hands were still firmly gripping your thighs, holding you in place.

You froze, looking down at him. “Uh, Bucky… you can, you know… let go now.”

He glanced up, smirking. “Oh, but you’re comfortable up there. Why rush it?”

You huffed, your face going a deeper shade of red. “Because I’m very much done being the human flagpole, thank you very much.”

Bucky’s grin only widened as he kept his hold, clearly enjoying the situation far more than he should. “Nah, I think I like you right where you are. Adds a bit of… height to my reputation.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, feeling your mortification level spike. “If you don’t let me down, I swear I’ll—”

“Fine, fine,” he laughed, finally loosening his grip, letting you slide back into the water. But just as your feet touched down, he didn’t back away—instead, he shifted closer, his hands still lingering on your waist, his gaze locking onto yours with a look that sent your pulse racing.

You took a half-step back, but there was no real room to escape, not with the edge of the pool just behind you and Bucky’s broad frame in front, all mischief and steady, unbreakable eye contact.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low, “you could stay longer.”

Your breath hitched as Bucky leaned just the slightest bit closer, his hands still warm and steady on your waist, his smirk turning softer yet somehow more intense. Every nerve in your body seemed to jolt to life as he held your gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to find your voice amid the chaos of your thoughts.

“Uh… stay longer? For what?” you managed, trying to sound casual, though your pulse was anything but.

His smirk grew, the corners of his mouth lifting in that way that was dangerously charming.

“For the victory lap, of course,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper. “After all, we did just crush the competition. Wouldn’t want you running off too fast.”

“Oh, right, a victory lap,” you muttered, trying to regain your composure but finding it difficult with his hands still lingering on your waist. “But I think the whole pool just watched that ‘lap’…”

“Then they got a good show,” he chuckled, his voice warm with that teasing tone you were starting to know all too well. “But the best part of winning is savoring it… right here.”

Your face went hot as his fingers brushed slightly against your sides, sending a little spark of energy straight up your spine.

“Bucky,” you said, the word barely a whisper. “You’re… awfully close.”

“Oh, am I?” He didn’t back away; instead, he raised a brow, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “Didn’t hear you complaining when you were up there, champ.”

Your cheeks went impossibly warmer. “That was different. That was, you know… competitive. Strategic.”

“Competitive and strategic?” he echoed, his grin turning almost wicked. “Well, in that case…” He shifted his hands slightly, bringing you even closer as he leaned in. “Let’s see if you’re still competitive outside the game.”

He hovered just a breath away, his gaze flickering to your lips for a moment that felt like an eternity. You felt yourself leaning in almost on instinct, your pulse racing, and for one wild, heart-stopping second, it seemed like he might actually kiss you.

But then, as if on cue, someone nearby let out a loud, obnoxious cheer, snapping both of you out of the moment. The sound jolted you, and you quickly took a step back, breaking the tension as reality crashed in.

Bucky chuckled softly, looking slightly too smug as he let his hands fall from your waist.

“Guess that victory lap will have to wait,” he murmured, giving you one last look that promised he wasn’t quite finished with his teasing yet.

You swallowed, desperately trying to get your heart rate back to normal. “Yeah, guess so.”

As the night went on, you’d lost count of how many concoction drinks had been handed to you, and at this point, your usual sense of caution was practically nonexistent. The rooftop was a haze of laughter, lights, and music, and the whole place felt like it was buzzing with energy. Any embarrassment from earlier had dissolved into pure, uninhibited confidence, each drink making you feel bolder than the last.

One minute, you were in a drinking game, cheering Bucky on as he took down a round of shots like it was nothing. The next, you found yourself in a game of truth or dare that had somehow escalated into body shots. You’d laughed, nearly choking on your drink, when you saw Bucky sprawled out on a table, daring you with that infuriating grin to take your turn.

“Oh, come on, that's not fair,” you slurred, trying to wave off the dare as he raised an eyebrow, that smug look firmly in place.

“Back out now if you can’t handle it,” he teased, lying back and folding his arms behind his head, acting like he hadn’t a care in the world.

The crowd cheered you on, and fueled by liquid courage, you rolled your eyes and leaned down, pressing your lips to his abs, feeling his warm skin under your touch as you took the shot in a quick, heated moment. His laughter mingled with the cheers around you, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush from the attention, from his gaze, from the heat spreading across your face.

Before you knew it, you were in a round of flip cup with Bucky as your teammate, and he downed his drink, slamming his cup down with a victorious shout. He grabbed you by the waist, lifting you up and spinning you around, both of you laughing so hard you could barely stand straight when he finally set you down.

Somehow, you ended up on the makeshift dance floor, music thumping as the party around you roared on, the lights around the rooftop pool casting a glow over everyone. You’d danced with other people throughout the night, but Bucky seemed to have a way of drawing you back, his energy magnetic, his laughter contagious. It was like he was everywhere you turned, keeping pace with you, matching every laugh and smirk with one of his own.

The music thumped, lights flashed, and the DJ’s voice blared over the speakers, “Alright, party people! Here’s the deal—find someone you want to… get close to tonight and give them a kiss, a hug, heck, even a lick if you’re feeling bold!”

Everyone around you burst into cheers and laughter, the party’s energy wild and reckless. By now, you were buzzing on so much liquid courage that everything felt like the best idea ever, including the fact that you were swaying against Bucky, who’d somehow stayed by your side all night.

He leaned in, his smirk way too mischievous, and the alcohol made it feel impossibly close.

“Did you hear that?” he slurred, barely keeping the laughter out of his voice. “I think it’d be a shame if we ignore the DJ’s request don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off, but he just grinned wider, leaning in until his cheek was practically pressed against yours.

“Hold still,” he whispered, a laugh lurking in his voice.

Then, in a move so outrageous you could barely comprehend it, he dragged his tongue slowly from your chin up to your forehead.

“Bucky!” you shrieked, stumbling back and half falling over yourself, laughter bubbling out of you as you clutched your face in shock. “Oh my god, you did not just—”

He stepped back, looking beyond pleased with himself, the grin on his face pure, unfiltered pride.

“What? I’m just being… obedient,” he slurred, raising his hands in mock innocence.

“You are the worst!” you squealed, laughing so hard you could barely keep it together, grabbing his arm as you steadied yourself, still half in disbelief. He just chuckled, clearly reveling in your reaction as he pulled you right back into the rhythm, your laughter mixing with the cheers around you as the dance floor pulsed with music.

They cranked up the music, and suddenly, the beat was all around you, pulsing through the crowd, as if daring everyone to let loose. The energy was infectious, and you found yourself moving in sync with him, laughing as you danced together, every touch and sway between you crackling with a chemistry that had been simmering all night.

Without thinking, you stepped closer, your hands drifting to his chest, letting your fingers splay against the warm, solid muscle. Your movements grew slower, more deliberate, and his hands instinctively found your waist, pulling you against him until there was barely any space left between you. His gaze dropped, glued on your lips, and you felt a shiver run through you, your breath hitching as he leaned in, his face just inches from yours. His nose brushed yours, and you looked up to meet his gaze, seeing the same surprised intensity reflected in his eyes.

Bucky held your gaze, his breath mingling with yours, and you could feel the tension building, electric and undeniable. He was waiting—leaving the next move up to you. If you wanted him, you knew he’d let you take him.

🎶Just let me know, can you be the one to hold and not let me go?🎶

Heart pounding, you somehow managed to press yourself even closer, feeling the swell of your chest against him, igniting a flush across his cheeks. But it wasn’t embarrassment you saw in his eyes—it was heat, a look that sent a thrill down your spine. His hand shifted, his fingers tracing along the curve of your hip, and you could feel the strength of his grip as he held you.

🎶I need to know, could you be the one to call when I lose control?🎶

The tension was unbearable, and as you tilted your face up, your lips brushed his in the softest, most hesitant caress—a question, an invitation. His resolve crumbled instantly. His hand slid to your waist, gripping the flesh there as his other hand threaded into your hair, guiding your head back so he could kiss you deeper, tasting you with an intensity that left you breathless. You let out a startled, breathless sound, and he responded by pulling you closer, cradling your face as if you were something precious, something he couldn’t bear to let go of.

Your lips parted for him, and he kissed you with a hunger that had been building for some time. His tongue traced yours, swallowing your quiet moans, anchoring you to him as his hand kept you steady. It wasn’t forceful, just… tender, like he was holding something priceless.

Your breaths came heavy, your cheeks flushed, but you barely noticed; all you could feel was him, his touch, his heartbeat pounding against yours, and the fire in his veins matching your own. In that moment, propriety, the crowd around you, everything else faded into oblivion. If he wanted you to take him right there, you couldn’t even think of saying no.

Every nerve in your body was alive, tingling with an incredible sense of lust and need as his arms held you close. His lips pressed harder, deepening the kiss, his passion and intensity only spurring you to match it. You melted against him, completely consumed by the heat and need between you, and for those moments, it was as if nothing else existed. Oxygen became secondary; the only thing that mattered was the connection between you, growing more fervent with each second.

Finally, when the need for air became overwhelming, you both broke apart, gasping, your faces inches from each other, breaths mingling as you took each other in. His lips tingled, mirroring your own, and every beat of your heart seemed to urge you back into his embrace.

“Let’s get out of here… yours or mine?” Bucky stammered between breaths, his voice husky, his eyes still filled with fire. His body radiated heat, and he looked like he’d dive into the pool at any second just to cool down.

“Mine,” you whispered, your voice breathless, cheeks flushed, a shy smile tugging at your lips as you held his gaze.

× × × ×

You both barely made it down the hallway before the urgency hit, the tension that had been building all night finally snapping. Bucky’s hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, pulling you against him as you fumbled for your keys, the both of you practically tripping over each other in your haste. As soon as you managed to unlock the door, you pushed it open, stumbling inside, his mouth crashing into yours before it even closed behind you.

Wetness pooled inside you, the need for him overwhelming as you pressed back against the door, his body meeting yours in a frenzy of heat and desperation. His stubble scraped against your skin, rough and deliciously manly, a reminder that he was all raw power and intensity. You loved it, the way it scratched against your cheek, adding to the thrill and making your skin tingle wherever he touched.

His lips found the side of your neck, warm and insistent as he kissed his way down, nipping softly, each touch leaving you breathless. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, exposing the full length of your neck to his hungry mouth. His hands slid up your sides, his fingers pressing in firmly, possessively, as his teeth grazed your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“God,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

You could only gasp, clutching onto him as his mouth moved up to your jaw, his hands never stilling, gripping you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Bucky reached a hand up and placed it on your left breast, over the bikini top, and then brought his hand up to the back of your neck to pull you in closer to him. You undid the straps of your top, and down fell the top, exposing your naked breasts to him.

Holy shit—this can’t be real. Am I hallucinating? Is this actually happening? Wait—oh god, is he about to put my boobs in his mouth?!

Like a hungry child desperate for milk Bucky suckled on your nipple, squeezing the bottom of your breast passionately with one hand, and holding the other breast in his other hand. You looked down at him, licking, sucking, rubbing, and he looked as though he was transported to paradise.

He worked himself into a frenzy playing with your breast, until he wanted more. He lifted you up under your thighs, off the floor, and pressed your back against the wall.

Oh shit!

He kissed you again, his hand sliding down to press against you over your bikini bottom. With a quick, desperate motion, he tugged the fabric to the side, his fingers brushing bare skin, making your breath hitch.

As his hand cupped you, he began to move slowly, his fingers exploring, teasing. “Damn,” he murmured, his voice thick with surprise and satisfaction. “You’re so wet. Is this what happens every time you watch my videos?”

“M-maybe…” you stammered, cheeks heating, barely able to meet his eyes as a grin spread across his face.

His fingers slid inside you, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each motion sending sparks through your entire body. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he asked, “How many times have you touched yourself thinking about me?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan as he continued, each movement intensifying the heat pooling inside you.

“Mmmh—why would I tell you that?” you managed, trying to sound teasing but barely able to keep your voice steady.

His grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes as his fingers pressed deeper, his thumb brushing against you just right. “Because I want to hear every filthy detail.”

He kissed your other nipple, the one he missed when before. Bucky always gave equal time to the breasts. Suckling on one nipple, fingering you harder and harder, you were getting more and more excited for the moment he would penetrate you.

“Oh my god—” You swallowed, feeling your face heat up and you could feel yourself slightly sobering up. With a nervous laugh, you finally gave in, your voice soft but steady.

“Fine… sometimes, late at night—ah—I’d imagine you between my legs, devouring me like your life depended on it,” you whispered, feeling your cheeks burn. “I’d—fuck—I’d think about your hands, the way they’d feel inside me, moving exactly like this…mmmh,” you gasped as his fingers pressed deeper, your own words sparking the desire between you.

His fingers never stopped their steady, torturous rhythm, each movement deliberate, coaxing you toward the edge with a patience that was as maddening as it was intoxicating.

“And? That’s it?” he asked, his tone thick with amusement, daring you to reveal more. His thumb brushed against you in just the right way, as if encouraging you to keep talking, to give him every last detail he was craving.

“And—hah—I’d picture you… spitting in my mouth while you’re turning me on, you’d put your hand on my neck while I beg you to i dunno? reorganize my guts—because you’re so big Bucky. . . I don’t think you’ll fit inside me.”

“Oh the innocent looking ones are always the dirtiest.” Bucky’s smirk turned darker, his fingers pressing into you with a newfound intensity, his digits hooking and pressing into your most sensitive spot, causing your hips to jerk against his palm.

“And was I just as good in your imagination as I am now?” he murmured, voice low and rough, sending shivers straight down your spine.

“Yes… yes…” The words left your lips almost involuntarily, your hands gripping his shoulders as your nails dug in, grounding yourself against the overwhelming sensation. Your face twisted with pleasure, each stroke of his digits making it harder to catch your breath.

Bucky’s eyes darkened with a fierce satisfaction as he watched you, his smirk deepening. “Better than you imagined?”

"Mhhm," you tried to respond, but it came out more like a needy moan, your voice barely a whisper under the intensity of his touch.

Bucky's smirk grew at the sound, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he took in every reaction, every tremble. "That’s what I thought," he murmured, his voice dark and teasing.

Bucky carried you through the open door of your bedroom, his movements purposeful, every touch sending sparks across your skin. When he reached the edge of the bed, he lowered you onto the mattress, but before letting you go, he bent down to capture your lips in a kiss—a kiss that felt as intimate as it did electrifying.

You couldn’t help but notice the difference; this was something he never did in his videos. Bucky never kissed anyone on the lips on screen. But here, he kissed you slowly, deeply.

His hands moved to your shoulders, firm but gentle as he guided you back into the soft downy mattress. “There you go, baby,” he murmured, his voice warm and low. “Lean back.”

He knelt down at the side of the bed. He pulled off your panties, the final barrier to your sex. He pushed your legs apart and back, and gazed at your pussy, already wet for him.

He stared at your exposed pussy for ten seconds, admiring it like it was the greatest work of art he had ever seen.

"Your pussy," he said, his lips nearly brushing your sex. "It's beautiful.”

You lifted your head up and looked at him. Your jaw was dropped and you were already starting to feel tingles up your body, even though he hadn't licked you yet. You heard his breathing get heavier and heavier, he was so excited to put his lips on your pussy.

Two large fingers of his left hand spread your lips. Two large fingers of his right hand rubbed your clit in strong circles. Each circle sends a shock wave through your body.

"You smell fantastic," he declared, and he dove his mouth right on top of your wet and stimulated clit. Up and down he licked. Up and down, his mouth clasped tight against your pussy.

"Oh," you moaned, as your eyes rolled up to the back of your head. Your arms—with a mind of their own—grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted them back, presenting yourself to this man who used to be on the screen and was now bringing you to ecstasy. He'd only just started to lick you, but even so you felt ready for him to enter you and never leave.

As Bucky continued to eat you like you’re his last meal, each suction sending thrills through you, a sudden wave of doubt crashed over you, freezing you in place. Images flooded your mind—women he’d been with, all effortlessly beautiful, the kind who exuded confidence and allure. How could you compare? This had to be nothing more than another fleeting thing for him, a “friendship” that would end the moment the night was over.

You tensed, your hands moving to gently push him back. “Bucky… wait,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up from between your legs, his expression softening instantly as he met your gaze.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle, concerned.

“I… I just…” You stammered, the words getting caught in your throat before you finally managed, “I don’t want to be… one of your girls.”

Bucky blinked, taken aback, his expression shifting as if the words had struck something unexpected, almost offended.

“One of my girls?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you searched for the right way to explain. “I… I don’t do one-night stands,” you admitted, feeling vulnerable.

Bucky nodded slowly, his tongue pressing into his cheek as he rose to his feet. "Mhm—no, I get it... it's because of my job," he said, his tone carrying a hint of defensiveness.

You sat up, noticing the shift in his demeanor. "Are you mad?" you asked softly, uncertainty creeping into your voice.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not mad," he replied, though his clenched jaw suggested otherwise. "I just didn't think you'd see me that way."

"See you what way?" you pressed gently.

He met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "Like I'm some guy who just goes around collecting flings," he explained. "I thought you knew me better than that."

You swallowed, choosing your words carefully. “It's not that I think poorly of you,” you said. “It's just... your work makes things complicated for me. I don't want to be another notch on anyone's belt.”

He took a deep breath, his expression softening. “I understand where you're coming from,” he admitted. “But believe me when I say that this—” he gestured between the two of you “—is different for me.”

“How do I know that?” you asked quietly.

He stepped closer, his eyes sincere. “Because I don't share moments like this with just anyone,” he said. “You think I go around kissing people like that? Off-camera, in my real life?”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his brows knitting together as he crossed his arms, clearly growing more frustrated. “I thought you knew the difference between who I am on-camera and who I am off it,” he replied, his tone clipped.

You sighed, trying to hold your ground. “Bucky, you’re the one who kept teasing me to watch your videos, practically encouraging me to make it my new hobby—how am I supposed to ignore what you do?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair in irritation. “Because those videos aren’t me,” he said, voice rising. “You’re acting like everything I do there is just some extension of my personal life, but it’s a job, Y/N. I don’t go around living like that off-set.”

You crossed your arms, not caring that the blanket had slipped off, leaving you bare before him.

“And I’m supposed to just... pretend that all of it doesn’t mean anything?” you shot back, feeling a twinge of vulnerability but refusing to let it show. “You kept making those jokes, those comments—you have to see how confusing it is for me.”

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “And you think I just do that with everyone? That every person who walks into my life gets these... moments with me?” His gaze softened slightly as he gestured between the two of you. “If that were the case, do you think I’d be here, right now, trying to convince you?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat. His intensity was throwing you off balance, forcing you to question your assumptions. You’d expected him to brush this off or laugh, not take it to heart.

He shook his head, a frustrated laugh escaping him. “You don’t get it, do you?” He looked at you, his eyes full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I don’t have to be here, fighting for this. I could have walked away and yet here I am.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat as the weight of his words settled heavily between you. The intensity of his gaze, the raw honesty in his voice—it was all too much, too fast, and yet it tugged at something deep inside you, making it impossible to brush off. But your heart was pounding, confusion and vulnerability swirling together, and you weren’t ready to face everything his words were unearthing.

“I… I think we should call it a night,” you said quietly, barely able to meet his gaze, the words coming out softer than you intended.

For a moment, he looked at you, his expression unreadable, and you could see him processing your response. Then, with a quiet sigh, he nodded, stepping back to give you space.

“Alright,” he replied, his voice subdued. “If that’s what you want.”

The room felt suddenly colder, the tension between you now tinged with a quiet ache. You could tell he was holding back more that he wanted to say, but he respected your decision, his expression guarded as he looked away.

You bit your lip, your mind racing with things you couldn’t bring yourself to say, with emotions you weren’t quite ready to admit.

“Thank you… for understanding,” you managed, feeling the weight of your choice settle over you.

He gave a small nod, his jaw tight, before he turned toward the door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said softly, pausing for a moment as if hoping you might change your mind, before finally leaving your apartment, the main door shutting made you flinch even though Bucky closed it softly.

The silence that followed felt heavier than you expected. The tension that had filled the room moments ago lingered, and a wave of frustration washed over you, mixing with regret and uncertainty. You took a shaky breath, running a hand through your hair before letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow, buried your face into it, and let out a muffled scream, releasing all the emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. The pillow absorbed the sound, but it did nothing to ease the twist of emotions churning inside you. Finally, you pulled the pillow away, feeling just as conflicted as before, wondering if you’d made the right choice… or a terrible mistake.

tags: @bohoooitsme @barnescamboy @strangefunthornqueen @mayusenpai666 @seven0714

@rabbitrabbit12321 @alexsl-universe @xunquish-blog @hzdhrtss @winchestert101

@alyana-luvs-u @itsbuckysworld

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apoloadonisandnarcissus · 1 day ago

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Overall, I agree. Especially your first paragraph about how the “Rings of Power” fandom, in general, only thinks of Sauron's character as in “Third Age Sauron” and neglects his character arc in Tolkien lore. Thank you for these words. Preach it!

The part where I disagree is when you make the case it was in Eregion that Mairon fell back into his old ways and into evil (1x08). Mostly because of three reasons: the Three rings of power, the mithril and the visual clues. I already talked about this here, and here. Halbrand was "Repentant Mairon", as written by Tolkien.

Tolkien himself tells us Sauron’s character arc in Letters 131, 153, and 183; and that “Annatar” is the reformer, and his intention of rebuilding/healing Middle-earth is still genuine. So, he’s very slowly embracing his old ways and his servitude of Morgoth ("and he fell back into evil, for the bonds that Morgoth had laid upon him were very strong"; The Silmarillion).

Going back to Eregion: my theory is that what we saw in 1x08 was actually OG Mairon, the Maia of Aulë. Mostly because (as I’ve mention in my linked posts) the Three Elven rings, not only contain the qualities Mairon was created to have by Eru himself, but they also heal Morgoth’s corruption: which is Mairon’s goal. We see him handing the mithril, according to Elrond in 2x01 “for weeks”, and in 2x03 it was all that took for him to make the Seven rings of power.

And in 2x08, we saw that Nenya was able to heal the effects of Morgoth’s corruption on Adar. Which might indicate that the mithril could also return Mairon to his original self, and perhaps that’s what happened in 1x08. However, this effect is temporary (as we saw with Adar), and Mairon needed to be in contact with the mithril at all times, in order to work. Perhaps that’s why he wanted to forge the two rings, in the first place: one for himself, and the other to Galadriel, because he also recognized her desire for healing after everything she suffered on Middle-earth.

And then we have this visual clue: the Dwarvish-inspired necklace. As everyone must be aware by now, Mairon was a Maia of Aulë, and the Dwarves are the Children of Aulë.

I think the breaking point was when Galadriel rejected his proposal of servitude, in 1x08. This doesn’t mean she’s the one to blame, mind you. Mairon already made two major blows on his redemption arc by himself: when he chooses Morgoth (the pouch of the King of the Southlands who swore a blood oath to Morgoth) over redemption (saving Diarmid), in 2x01; and when he chooses deception (King of the Southlands) instead of redemption (staying in Númenor in servitude).

When Galadriel rejects his offer, Marion sees it as a rejection of his redemption, and believes he’s not worthy of redemption. But he tries again in Season 2 with the whole “rings of power” plot, but by then he’s already embracing his old ways of deceit and manipulation of others, and returning, even if unconsciously, to Morgoth.

Galadriel is not to blame because “free will” is a major theme in Tolkien legendarium. Each character is responsible for its own actions and choices. And even if he’s not fully there yet in “Rings of Power”, Sauron choses to believe he’s not worthy of redemption, and there’s no point on even trying anymore. This is his personal choice. This will be most likely in Season 4 and 5 (he probably will still believe in his “fair motives” in Season 3, in my opinion), and explode on the Third Age, when he claims to be “Morgoth come again”.

I feel like people try too hard to keep Sauron "in character", to the point that they super-impose the 3rd Age LOTR Sauron onto the 2nd Age TROP Sauron. To the point that people attribute everything he does to a manipulation, thinking that the guy does everything as planned, as if he can't do an action because he just feels like it, or make a decision based on emotions. That is just... Not how I saw even LOTR Sauron. Plus, a lot can happen to a guy in several millenia, yk? (And I believe we will even see this road of his in later seasons).

I will give you the scene where he apologises for killing Galadriel's brother, for example.

Rewatching it, you can absolutely tell that Sauron seriously intended to stay in Numenor and do nothing but simple smith work.

He wasn't lying later to Gal when he said he had all but given up at this time frame - he really did. In that moment, he believed himself to be a giant failure, all his plans had fallen through, even the orks mutinied against him and his close servant/friend (because it is obvious he and Adar were close - 1) how else would one disembowel fucking Sauron unless he trusted his back to that person? 2) he would NOT act THAT angry if that betrayal wasn't personal on some level) betrayed him and murdered him - so at this stage he is in the "to hell with it all, I give up, I am a loser, let me just smith cutlery and horse shoes in peace" frame of mind.

But then comes Galadriel asking him to help her take the Southlands, refusing to take "no" for an answer.

As a side note, I find this part of the scene interesting:

Love the actor's work as well here - how his stare becomes vacant as he loses himself in the dark memories.

(And he is turned away from Galadriel here. She doesn't see his face at all. At. All. So, unless he is trying to manipulate coals, the emotions on his face are. All. Real.)

"You don't know what I did. How I survived...

And, as he gazes into the fire, it's not his memories that come (as would be expected out of this cimetographic tactic), but the present scene of the villagers submitting and kneeling to Adar and the orks.

Legitimately, his words here are narrating over the people kneeling to Adar. Right over this moment. I kid you not, go rewatch it, if you do not believe me.

This, here, is a 100% tell that, at least in this story, as TROP authors intended it, the idea is that Sauron's continuous service to Melkor was a matter of survival. You don't make such an obvious parallel unintentionally.

So, while he came to serve him probably out of his young foolishness and ambition, but that, down the road, it became simply impossible to change sides, even if he wanted too, unless he was willing to sacrifice his life for it.

Going back to the point. So, Sauron, as Galadriel asks him to abandon his own plans and help her with her quest, demands that she gives him an honest answer why she pursues her goals.

She turns away from him in tears and:

"The company I led mutinied against me"

Mmmm?🤔

"My closest friend conspired with the King to exile me"

MMMMM?🤔🤔🤔

(what could it be reminding me of I wonder??)

What? What is it, Sauron? Why are you making this sad version of a surprised Pikachu face?? And to her back no less, where she can't even see you doing your obviously manipulative surprised sad faces😆

(Seriously, guys, he even does a small gasp here)

And Galadriel's next words:

"Because they could no longer distinguish me from the evil I was fighting"

...beyond being a hilarious irony (because, yk? said evil is standing right behind you, Gal), are supposed to clarify for those that didn't get it from his shocked face what exactly ran through Sauron's mind at that moment, that surprised him so much:

"We are alike".

Bingo. So there you have it. What made Sauron change his mind and follow Galadriel was not some masterplan where he decided that her quest to the Southlands would be very beneficial for him - but simply he recognised a kindred spirit and he felt he could understand what she was going through and empathised with her, decided to help her.

Bonus - after he just discovered for himself that they have much in common and apologised for killing her brother, she says:

"Your sorrow cannot ease my pain.

And nor will a hammer and tongs ease yours.

There is no peace to be found for you here.

And nor for me.

No lasting peace in any path, but that which lies across the sea.

I have fought for centuries to earn mine.

This is how you earn yours."

(even her words here are perfectly paralleled, casting them as mirrors of each other)

And after saying this she leaves. And he stays looking like this:

- which, again, no one is witnessing, except the empty smithy.

So, in conclusion, Sauron follows Galadriel because: a) he feels a sense of guilt towards her; b) he cannot ignore it because he understands her and he feels they are alike; c) a person he feels they have a lot in common with is sure that "there's no peace to be found for the likes of us here", so yes, it makes him first hesitate and then change his mind about staying in Numenor and living a simple ordinary life; d) while he did plan to just live as a simple smith in Numenor, it was never what he actually wanted for himself. His failures together with his guilt made him give up, but Galadriel gave him hope that he could be something more and do something good. And that was always his dream and his ambition.

I believe it's not before they came to Eregion and he heard about the mirthril and the Elves' plight that it all came to him how he could restart his previous plans that he had abandoned because of continuous failures (and Adar physically banishing him from existence).

PS: and no, it is not Galadriel's fault, because nothing she said here was wrong. Sauron stood on a crossroad and he had a real chance here - where he was wrong-footed and doubted all his previous beliefs - he had a chance to choose the right path. But instead he chose subjurgation of others (and I do not believe it was because of his nature as Dark, but because of his previous experiences, what they shaped him out to be). If anything, the one to blame is Adar with his untimely volcano show, because - who knows? - had they had more time, maybe Sauron could have found the right footing. Instead, before he could unlearn his worse life lessons and learn new better ones, he, sort of, came to the Tree of Knowledge in Eden.

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shalomniscient · 3 days ago

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nightmare. || various x reader

Sometimes pasts have difficulty staying buried. You help her through it all the same.

cw. allusions to childhood trauma/abuse, descriptions of nightmares

notes. in a hurt comfort kinda mood. also look she's formatting

ARLECCHINO

She's back there again.

The walls are cast in shadows, and there is not a single candle to light the darkened halls, making it seem as if it stretched on endlessly. The curtains are drawn shut, thick velvet suffocating any sliver of light. All along the halls are closed doors. The air is thick and stagnant, resting heavy on her shoulders like a blanket. Arlecchino— no, Peruere, takes a step forward. Then another, and another. She passes door after door after door. They seem more like headstones than anything else, and the house almost seems like a corpse itself.

Almost.

Because for as much as the house is still, it is not silent. Behind each door she hears the cry of an agonized child; the clash of steel on steel; the crunch of a shovel on dry earth. The sound of blood dripping onto wooden floorboards echo in time with her beating heart. With each step, another door carves itself out of the smooth walls. Doors, doors, doors all the way down, endlessly. She feels the urge to burn rise inside her—oxygen and a spark, with only herself as kindling.

Red explodes the corners of her vision. Red, like blood. Pristine white walls turn black, and the wailing only grows louder, a cacophony of pain and misery and anguish. Smoke bleeds from beneath the door frames like dragon's breath. They remain shut. She claps her hands around her ears—it burns, it burns, it burns—and smoke settles in her lungs—it burns, it burns, it burns—and then the flames swallow Peruere whole—

Arlecchino wakes up.

Her back is uncomfortably damp, and she sits up slowly, the blankets falling from her chest down to her waist. Her heart rattles in her chest, and she has to blink several times to clear the redness from her vision. Her forearms feel painfully hot, as if she'd been standing far too close to a fire. She breathes in slowly—in, out, in, out. She tells herself she is not there anymore, that she is safe, that she is home.

Tonight, however, it doesn't seem to work. Arlecchino sighs, running a hand through her mussed hair. But then she regrets it immediately—because the sound causes you to stir, a slow yawn escaping you as you blink your eyes open, squinting up at her from where your cheek is pressed to your pillow. She can see the haze of drowsiness still covering your irises, and the way your hair is ruffled from moving in your sleep, and the tiny trail of dried drool from the corner of your mouth. You’re still waking up, but the haze clears the longer your gaze lingers on her.

"Bad dream?" you mumble groggily, not pushing up from the pillow but nonetheless lifting an arm to cup her jaw in your palm. Your touch is cool against her heated skin, and she leans into it almost instinctively. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, and the most she can manage is a wordless nod. You hum at that, your thumb stroking the arch of her cheekbones. "Guess you won't be going back to sleep, huh?"

She shakes her head. No.

"Well," you yawn again, "I won't be letting you do paperwork either at this hour."

She opens her mouth to protest—then closes it immediately following the very stern look you shoot her. You lie still for a moment, contemplating what to do with her, and Arlecchino takes the time to trace your features, noting the drowsy slope of your eyes and the relaxed lines of your face. Your chest rises and falls slowly with each breath, and before she knows it she’s breathing in time with you and calming her racing heart.

"You know, I could do with a cuddle buddy," you say eventually, rolling over and spreading your arms wide. "I’ve never done well with the cold."

Arlecchino rolls her eyes at your shameless wheedling, but she doesn't refuse. Instead, she shifts and gently lays on top of you, her arms looping around your back as she holds you to her chest. Her face finds the delicate slope where your shoulder meets your neck, and she breathes in deeply again. A cool night breeze slips through the slight opening of the window by the bed, tossing the curtains and letting a pale sliver of silver moonlight dance on the lines of your bodies, pressed close enough they may as well be one. You press a kiss to her temple as your hands splay over her broad back.

She still doesn't sleep that night, but she rests, and the fire in the back of her mind is now nothing more than a softly crackling hearth.

KUJOU SARA

Sara sighs as she sits on the engawa, one leg tucked beneath her and the other hanging off the edge. Her yukata is loosened and rather mussed from the way she’d been tossing and turning in her sleep, crumpled in a way that her father would’ve once disciplined her for. Sara squeezes her eyes shut at the thought, a strained, bitter laugh slipping from her lips. Even though he is long gone, rotting in some jail cell beneath Tenshukaku, she will never truly escape him.

In the end, she is Takayuki’s daughter, through and through.

The tense line of her shoulders falters, and her head drops. The water in the pond by the engawa ripples, distorting her reflection into unrecognisable waves. Without her consistent control, her wings slip open, unfurling slowly, the joints creaking from disuse. They ache, and her expression twists from the discomfort—intense enough that she doesn’t even notice the door sliding open until your gentle touch brushes her back.

She startles, jerking forward and spinning around only to meet your concerned eyes. When you note her surprise, you tilt your head and offer an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” you murmur, shifting forward slightly to kneel behind her, “I should’ve said something first.”

Sara breathes in deep, letting the air expand her lungs, then shakes her head. “No, no, it’s alright… I was just, ah— lost in thought.”

“Mhm,” you hum, clearly not convinced. Your hand drops, instead reaching for her own on the engawa. You intertwine your fingers with hers with a softness she never really felt before you, and Sara has to fight the urge to draw back like some frightened animal in response. Instead she swallows thickly as your thumb brushes ever so gently over her knuckles. “Nothing pleasant, I assume.”

There’s no accusation in your tone, only a quiet factuality. Sara’s wings twitch, involuntarily, before any resistance she might have had withers away. She squeezes her hand around yours, leaning forward ever so slightly to rest her head against yours. You don’t pull away, remaining right where you are and letting her seek the comfort of closeness from you. The frightened animal in her heart presses up against you, and you hold it tenderly, smoothing down those ruffled feathers.

“The usual,” she says, a little hoarsely. “About my father…”

Your expression darkens just a fraction at the mention of Takayuki. You’ve hated him ever since you found out what he’d done—and sometimes, Sara thinks you hate him on her behalf as well, since she can’t seem to be able to. Not yet, at least. Before he was a traitor, he was the man who took her in from the streets, the man who gave her direction and purpose and a name, and she would not be the person she is today without him. It is not love, most certainly not—but it clings to her all the same, and she has not yet learned how to shed this weight completely yet. But you kiss her temple all the same, and her heart feels a little lighter as well.

“You don’t have to continue,” you say softly, and Sara slumps against you further. Your free hand rises up to gently press along her spine, between her wings, massaging the tense muscle there. Sara breathes in shakily, and you pause. “Too much?”

“No,” she says quickly, shaking her head against you. “No, no, it’s— it’s good. Don’t stop. Please?”

You chuckle softly, then nod, resuming your touches. You continue until Sara feels the drowsiness start to return to her, creeping up her spine from the pads of your fingers to the back of her eyes. Her head slips down to your shoulder, and from there she can see the pond by the engawa. The water has calmed, and in the mirror-like reflection she sees herself again, but she also sees you.

In the end, she is still Takayuki’s daughter—but she is, learning, one night at a time, that she is also more than that. When she falls asleep, she dreams of a clear blue sky, and the wind in her feathers and in her hair sings a song of freedom in your voice.

#sev.writes #arlecchino x reader #kujou sara x reader

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shiggyhatesme · 19 hours ago

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smiley

chapter 1

pairings & cw: prohero!katsuki x fem!reader, following after timeskip, kat is early 20s, language, ushy gushiiinesssss, oh also dad!bakugo

monday 9:05am

it was your favorite time of year. soon after the silly tradition of the groundhog coming up, and to your liking, not seeing his shadow, spring had arrived. that meant gentle breeze’s whispering sweet songs through your hair, warmer temperatures, and blooming flowers.

you walked through the doors of your flower shop and set your bag down on the counter, turning the lights on as you walked through.

vibrant colors of all your favorite flora surrounding you, filling you with warmth.

you began to prepare the flowers, processing some of the new shipments, watering the array of different options, and submitting orders before eventually opening the store.

it was a small quiet shop in the middle of Musutafu, though as quiet as the inside was, you had your fair share of seeing the pro’s outside at work. you didn’t mind though, it kept you entertained throughout your days. business was also never a problem.

you were in the middle of arranging a bouquet for a wedding when you heard the bell on the door ring.

back facing whoever had entered, you spoke “welcome in! how can i help—“

you cut yourself off as you turned around, not expecting to see the no. 2 (or no. 1, it changed often) pro hero, dynamite standing in your entryway.

he quirked a brow at you, “‘fuck’s that face for?”

you realized that you more than likely looked like an absolute idiot with your mouth agape and eyes wide. you cleared your throat as you became a normal person again, throwing him your best attempt at a smile.

“sorry! how can i help you?”

the pro scoffed as he inched forward, meeting you at the front counter. he looked, sort of, uncomfortable. his hand reaching around his head to scratch his neck.

“i was in the area and remembered that my brat is having her kindergarten graduation soon, so i uh,” he trailed, looking away from you as he spoke “need ya to make a stupid small bouquet for her.”

you almost exploded right there from cuteness, but you figured that wouldn’t be a great second impression.

you clasped your hands in front of your chest in excitement practically gushing, “oh how sweet! congratulations to your little one!”

katsuki let out a huff before rolling his eyes, hopefully the mask did enough to cover the subtle rose tinting his cheeks.

you chuckled at him for a moment before speaking, “did your wife leave you with this errand?”

you watched as he tensed, his ruby eyes looking at the counter beneath his hands. “i uh, i’m not married.”

your face fell and you slapped your hands over your obnoxiously loud mouth, “oh my god! sorry that was personal! i’ll shut up now god wow i’m so—“

his eye began to twitch as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“stop yer rambling woman, it’s fine. just help me here.” he interrupted, leaving you to mentally facepalm with cherry red cheeks.

you straightened your posture before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “did you have anything in mind? any colors or specific flowers?”

the spiky haired male shook his head while waving a gloved hand at you, “nah, i don’t know anything about this shit. the brat loves yellow and blue, do with that what you will.”

you nodded excitedly and jotted it down on a notepad.

“now i know you go by ‘great explosion murder god dynamite’, but is there a better, or perhaps shorter, name and number i could put you down by?” you joked, clicking the top of your pen as you looked to him.

he scoffed, crossing his arms, “tch, just put katsuki down. my number is xxx-xxxx, and if you leak it i’ll kill yer ass.”

you snorted as you wrote down his name and number, sticking it on the order wall for future reference. you walked back over to him as you brushed your hands against your apron. “alrighty! i’ll give you a ring when it’s done, which will more than likely be in the next two days.”

he grumbled a quick ‘thank you’ before turning around and heading back out. you watched as he slid his gauntlets back on, finding it sweet that he took them off before coming inside.

as you worked on your unfinished orders for the rest of the day, the sun beginning to cast a warm glow on the pastel walls of your shop, you found yourself thinking of katsuki. you didn’t keep up with the hero world much, but you had seen him in bits and pieces before. and boy was he much more dreamy in person.

a small tinge of excitement wavered throughout your body as you planned out his daughter’s bouquet, questions that weren’t any of your business, flashing through your mind.

you didn’t even know he had a daughter, you thought he was around your age, early 20’s. did he have a girlfriend? was the mother present?

why are you wondering these things when you’ll only ever see him once more out of your entire life?

you shook those thoughts away as the night grew older, eventually closing up shop and heading home, the remnants of winter blowing against your cheeks as you began your trek.

wednesday 11:02am

you didn’t hear the jingle of the doorbell behind you, your mind wrapped in god knows what as you watered the plants behind the counter.

katsuki took this as an opportunity to drink up the sight of you, the same sight that he was unable to shake from his mind the day he met you. your sickeningly sweet nature that complimented your soft features, your hair tied up in a knot behind you.

he cleared his throat before throwing a quick ‘oi’ your way.

you jumped at the sound, almost dropping the hose before turning your head towards the front, spotting that all-too-familiar face. turning off the hose you walked up to the front, looking at the watch on your wrist with furrowed brows.

“s-sorry i wasn’t expecting you this quick! i swear i just called you 5 minutes ago.”

katsuki looked away abashed, knowing full well that as soon as he got your message he flew here as quickly as possible. would he ever admit that? no.

he let out a scoff as he crossed his arms, looking out the window. “tch, i was patrolling over here. figured i’d just pick it up now.”

he was in fact not patrolling over here. he was indeed about a 25 minute walk away.

your mouth formed an ‘o’ as you took in his words, clasping your hands in front of your chest in excitement to show him what you made. “well i guess it worked out perfect then! the bouquet is ready, let me grab it.”

you walked to the back where all of the finished orders were and smiled to yourself, grabbing your creation that you were in fact, very proud of.

it’s totally not like you put 100% more effort into this one than the others because it was katsuki, no way..

you walked out with a big smile on your face, hiding the bouquet behind your back as you neared him. “okay…tada!”

you placed it on the counter in front of you for him to observe, holding your breath as he looked it over, pleading it would be to his liking. you took your craft seriously, so this meant a lot to you.

you watched as he fought back the tiniest smirk looking down at it, taking in the array of hydrangeas, blue roses, brunerra, mixed in with the golden yellow daffodils, tulips and marigolds. and in the center of them all sat a cute ‘congratulations’ card, poking above the flowers.

you broke the silence, it becoming too much for you, “please tell me you like it. i can’t quit my profession right now.”

katsuki’s red orbs found yours as he rolled his eyes and let out a small chuckle, “don’t be an idiot. they’re nice. i think the brat will love ‘em.”

you released the breath you had been holding and relaxed, silently celebrating.

“thank god! i’m so happy i was able to do this for you guys. i hope her graduation goes well.”

he waved you off before reaching in his pocket for, what you had assumed, was his wallet. you quickly grabbed his, muscular as fuck, arm before he could pull it out.

“please don’t worry about it! on the house, it’s the least i can do, you’re out there kicking ass all day. just tell the little one i said congrats.” you smiled, noticing him looking at you like you belonged in an asylum.

“listen smiley, it’s really not—“

you cut him off as you grabbed the bouquet and shoved it in his hands, walking around the counter to grab his shoulders and guide him out the door.

“nope and nope! go back to kicking ass and maybe come back one day to tell me how she liked it. ciao, katsuki.” you blurted before shoving him out of your glass doors and locking them behind him, watching as he turned around absolutely dumbfounded. you waved him a ‘goodbye’ before turning around and getting back to whatever work you had left.

a couple minutes later you heard a soft knock at your front doors, forgetting that you had locked them. you walked out of the back to see katsuki standing there, an unreadable expression on his face.

you cocked an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms, causing his eyes to roll as he pointed at the lock.

you huffed as you unlocked the door and slowly opened it, poking your head out.

“i already told you, you’re not paying.”

he grumbled in response before meeting your gaze, his brows furrowed, a seemingly common expression for him.

“not that, dumbass. i’d be an idiot if i left here without taking the opportunity to ask, so—“

you looked up at him as he took in a breath, your heart pounding in your chest.

“would you…want to go on a date with me?”

#AHHHHH #firstchapterdone #i’msoexcitedforthisseries #ilovewritinghim #anime #bnha #mha x reader #x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader

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purplecoffee13 · 2 days ago

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NFWMB - PART FIVE*

Summary: “Y/N hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what happened, but it seems like she is not the only one overthinking this time…”

Tropes: innocent!reader x boxer!harry

Wc: 3k

Warnings: smutty scenes, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, teeny tiny bit of angst ig

A/N: I AM BACK! I finished my exams today and I hurried home to write the rest of this chapter bc I have been itching to do so for the past weeks. I will try not to put as much time in between the next chapters, sorry about that! Love you all and enjoy!!!

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It had been three days. Three entire days since the kissing-in-the-car debacle that Y/N had participated in, and she still wasn't over it. How was she supposed to act normal at their class tomorrow? It had plagued her mind ever since she walked into her apartment that Saturday night.

All weekend, she had been contemplating different things. Saturday and Sunday, she was sure she wanted to never see his face again because she couldn't stand the embarrassment. But when Monday rolled around and re-thought everything after coming back from work, she realized that she should probably be mature and talk to him.

However, that resulted into her pacing around her room like a maniac with the phone in her hand, his number ready to dial. For the past twenty minutes she had been trying to convince herself to just press that call button and get it over with.

"C'mon..." Y/N growled to herself. She stopped in her tracks, took a deep breath, and finally called him. Her hands were sweating as the dial tone sounded over and over again, and the nerves she felt were sure to explode her stomach, but she kept breathing and waited for Harry to pick up.

The distant sound of a phone ringing took Y/N’s attention away from her own attempted call. Her heart began beating even faster as she walked towards her front door, and sure enough, when looking through her peephole, she saw Harry standing in front of her door.

As she took the lock off, Y/N broke up the call and putting her phone in her pocket. Harry's eyes were wide at the door opening all of a sudden, but he still managed to muster an awkward smile amidst his shock before he greeted her.

"Hi." He said quietly.

"Hi." She greeted back, unsure of what to do or say or feel. "uhm, what are you doing here?"

The question came out so soft, as if she was scared to ask it, not ready for the consequences his answer may bear. Maybe it was true; she had always had the feeling that her body was better at communicating her true feelings than her brain was.

"I need to talk to you." Harry said, his tone serious enough for Y/N's chest to start pressing on her, but a soft edge to it nonetheless. "Can I come in?"

She nodded, opening the door wider and letting Harry inside her apartment. He walked in and silently observed the place. Y/N felt oddly tense as she waited for him to take it all in, but he was quite quick to turn around. In the seconds that he stood there, entirely quiet, Y/N deduced the obvious: he was awaiting some instructions from her.

"Go sit on the couch, do you want something to drink?" She asked, already heading for the kitchen. Harry sat down like she told him to, but shook his head.

"No thank you, just wanna talk. Can you... sit down?" His difficulty to meet her eye and the apprehension behind his words had Y/N immediately head for the couch and sit down next to him.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asked innocently, like she wasn’t the reason this awkwardness existed in the first place.

"About last Saturday." He answered. You began to shake your head, cheeks already reddening from the shame that washed over you.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Just— hold on," He interrupted her. "I said something, that night, I can't help but think that you didn't take it how I meant it. And it has been eating at me all weekend because I'd hate to be the fool who accidentally rejected you."

Harry's eyes bored into Y/N's until she couldn't take the intensity of it anymore and looked down. He leaned forward, putting his hand on her leg. She studied his fingers as they slowly caressed her skin.

"Harry, it's okay. I misinterpreted it, you don't have to make excuses to make me feel better." She shrugged her shoulders, hoping to prematurely dodge any bullets that might have ended up with her crying otherwise.

"I'm not!" He protested. "I— Y/N, look at me."

When she didn't instantly comply, Harry's fingers traced up to her chin and redirected her face towards him, forcing her to meet his gaze. His thumb slowly stroked her chin as he took in every inch of her face.

"I wanted it." He said slowly, making sure she heard every word he says. Slowly leaning in, he added: "Really bad."

His lips hovered near hers, so close it was nearly sending her into a frenzy, but far away enough for him to assess her reaction on his movements. But Y/N was an open book, a reactive person when it came to these desires. She couldn't feign disinterest as she had never felt this strongly about someone in such a perverted manner before. Harry mouth slowly curled up into a smirk.

"Can I show you how badly I wanted it?" He asked, the heat of his breath reaching her face and making her core pulsate. The only thing Y/N could do was nod, and before she knew it, Harry's lips closed in on hers.

A soft whine escaped her throat as he kissed her, the desperation of her body unshielded under his roughly delicate touch. Nothing seemed to make sense as he slowly slipped his tongue into her mouth and pushed her back on the couch, nothing but him.

Harry leaned forward, not taking his mouth off Y/N as she sat against the armrest. He hovered over her, his body between her spread legs. One of his hands was holding onto her waist, while the other one kept him up by holding onto the armrest.

As their tongues danced around each other, Harry's hand slipped down from her waist towards her inner thighs, and Y/N felt her panties getting wet at the suggestive caresses of her skin. She put her hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed him back a little bit, their lips now apart. Still caught up in the heat of the moment, Harry mindlessly trailed his kisses down her jaw and then onto her neck.

"Harry." Y/N tried to get his attention, but his name sounded more like an erotic plea, and caused a growl to sound from his lips, followed by a rougher treatment on her neck. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as his lips sucked at that sensitive skin of her, and a small whine fell from her as he bruised her neck.

"Ha— hmm... Harry!" She exclaimed. "S— stop."

Within a millisecond, or at least it felt like that, Harry's hands and mouth were removed from her. His face was filled with worry as he took in hers.

"Are you okay? Did I go too far?" He began asking, but she was quick to shake her head.

"No! It's just— I haven't really, done much of this before. I don't have a lot of experience and uhm, I just wanted you to know that before we... proceeded." Y/N explained, voice near trembling as she spoke. Harry's eyes softened, and his face pulled into a soft smile.

"Thank you for telling me." He said, leaning forward and giving her a kiss before pulling back, sitting up straight. "I just have one question, though."

Y/N nodded, big doe eyes staring right at him as that innocent smile transformed into a smug grin.

"Can I show you what I actually wanted to do last Saturday?" He asked, stroking her already spread legs. Before she knew it, the answer fell from Y/N's lips.

"Yes."

He let out a satisfied hum before his hands grabbed at her shorts and pulled them down along with her underwear, leaving her bare cunt to be exposed to him. Y/N blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed at how exposed she was, but the fascination that twinkled in Harry's eyes washed most of her insecurities away. She watched carefully as he leaned down and his fingers began stroking her folds.

Y/N held her breath in anticipation, curiously waiting for Harry to continue, and when he finally put his hands on her clit, she couldn't help but shift in her seat a bit at the tingling sensation.

"O— oh!" She shrieked when she felt Harry's tongue attached itself to her clit, his middle finger now paying more attention to slowly beginning to slide in and out of her. Y/N tried to control her breathing to the best of her abilities as Harry explored her sopping and pulsating core.

Y/N's mind had gone all fuzzy from the sweet feeling of his touch on her sensitive parts. It was impossible to focus on anything else than Harry, and even if it was, she wouldn't dare take her eyes off of him anyway. It was addictive, the way he was ravishing her like she was a culinary meal, and it felt glorying.

Harry temporarily removed his mouth from her heat, and looked up at Y/N before saying: "C'mon, angel. Tell me how it feels."

Her heart skipped a beat at the nickname she'd grown to love ever since the first time he said it, and she tried to control her whines as she responded.

"So— ah! So good..." She managed to reply, her knuckles turning white from balling up her fists in an attempt to not come too early. Harry's tongue swept over her clit in such an intoxicating way, and his now two fingers pumping in and out of her was only getting her closer to her inevitable climax.

Harry moaned at her verbal approval, and picked up the pace of both his mouth and his fingers, leaving her nothing but a whimpering mess under him. This was surely going to be the death of her, wasn’t it?

"Harry— I think I'm going to..." She ran out of breath before she could finish your sentence, and she began convulsing around him, legs trembling as her orgasm began to reach her like a wave building up. And then just like that, it crashed.

With a cry of his name and a few profanities that followed, the sensual waves of her release hit Y/N. The release was slow and long, and one of the most satisfying ones she'd ever had. Harry's touch stayed on her skin, helping her ride out her high.

When he finally backed away, Y/N was still breathing heavily from what she had just experienced. Wide eyed, she observed how he licked his lips before he looked up at her. She could've come again from the sight of that alone.

"D'you want some water?" Harry suddenly asked, getting up from the couch and walking over to your kitchen. She followed him with her eyes, mouth agape as he went through her kitchen cabinets until he stumbled upon two glasses and filled them with water. As he returned to the couch, he raised a brow, indicating that he was still waiting on an answer.

"Uhm, yes, thank you." Y/N stumbled as he handed her the glass. She took a few sips, scanning him while she drank. He was so casual all of a sudden, leaning back against the couch with his legs spread like that... there was something cocky about it and Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted to roll her eyes at it or jump his bones.

Possibly both, at the same time.

Y/N put her glass down and slowly crawled over to Harry, who sniffed a laugh at her wobbly movements on the way too squishy couch. She hoped it would at least come off as cute, now that her attempt at being sexy had been trampled by her own furniture.

As the laughter from both parties died down, Y/N took it upon herself to slowly start kissing Harry's neck. Her heartbeat rose when she felt him shifting in his seat, a pained sigh escaping his throat. Meticulously, she dragged her hand down his chest until it reached his pants, and she began unbuckling his belt.

She was surprised when she felt his hand pull hers away, and stopped her actions to see what was going on. When she saw his clenched jaw, she frowned.

"Are you okay?"

"You don't have to do that angel." He said, tilting his head a bit. She slowly shook her head.

"Oh, alright." She said, and felt a pang in her chest at the idea that she could've done something wrong. Harry took both of her hands, cupping his over them.

"I’d like to save it for next time." He suggested, the slight raise of his brow adding a certain playfulness to his reply. The hint of a smile on his face filled her with a warm feeling, and she quickly found herself nodding at what Harry had said.

“Plus, I have to get my beauty rest… I’ve got a long day tomorrow. I teach this private self-defense class, client’s got me working till late.” He joked, eyes beaming when a giggle fell from her lips. Y/N took her bottom lip between her teeth, stomach fluttering as she took in the painfully beautiful, funny, charismatic man in front—or well, under her.

“Really? Is she any good?” She teased back, brows raising in surprise when Harry nodded.

“Difficult to teach tho.” He responded.

“Why’s that?” Y/N questioned, genuine curiosity dripping from her tone. Harry took his eyes off her and shamelessly lowered his gaze to her body as his hands, that had dug into her waist, slowly began to trail down to her ass.

“‘S just so hard to concentrate…” He said lowly, and she felt her core heating up again at the sole sound of Harry’s voice. Her cheeks flushed alike at what he was implying, and she felt like an animal with the way her body reacted to him.

Y/N remained as quiet as she could, savoring Harry’s touch on her bare skin. She would have closed her eyes, had she not been too mesmerized by her face to do so.

Nerves swirled in her stomach as she watched Harry’s stare trail upwards again, only to stop at her lips. Gradually, he leaned forward, closing the gap between the two’s mouths. Y/N couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her when Harry put his lips on her again, and much like the touch of his hands on her, she relished in the way his tongue circled around hers, and she was surprised at how well their bodies captured the connection that she had been unable to explain in words.

It was safe to say that Y/N was disappointed when at last Harry pulled away, but she couldn’t be mad at him, not with that face of his.

Her eyes widened when he got up all of a sudden, hands still holding up her thighs in the few moments before she wrapped them tightly around him in response to the sudden movement. He sniffed a laugh, which Y/N was only able to hear because her arms were locked around Harry’s neck and her face was only a few centimeters away from his. The urge to smile almost prevailed over her shock.

Harry’s hands let go of Y/N’s thighs, and she lowered her legs in response, putting her feet on the ground again and removing herself from his touch completely.

As they walked towards the front door, Y/N found herself to be a bit gloomy. She didn’t want him to leave, he was so fun to be around. He made her not worry, which was a miracle because Y/N always worried. And she knew she’d go back to worrying and overthinking the second she’d be alone again, so the prospect of Harry going away was not the most fun. She had to remind herself that she’d see him tomorrow, though.

Y/N opened the door, waiting as Harry put on his coat. When he finally had, he turned to her one last time.

“Sleep tight, angel.” He said, and with that, walked right out the door. Y/N croaked out a weak ‘bye’, but she was pretty sure she’d heard the elevator ding by then.

It took her a minute to recover physically before turning off her lights in the living room and floating towards her bathroom, where she smiled like an idiot all the way through brushing her teeth.

It wasn’t until her head hit the pillow that what she dreaded came along again: that tiresome worry. Thoughts and scenarios filled her head as she lied in bed, watching the ceiling as if it would grant her answers, or peace.

It was as if, with Harry, nothing else truly mattered. Not necessarily in the corny, dramatic way, but rather in the sense that it felt like the outside world wasn’t that much of a factor in Y/N’s decisions, nor did she have the feeling that it should be whenever she was around him. But when he was gone, it would all start to matter again and suddenly she found herself doubting whether dating Harry would even be a good idea.

What would her parents think? What would Sophie think? Would she be viewed as less professional by her co-workers for dating her trainer? Would it impact Harry’s reputation—

She stopped herself. Probably not, considering Harry was a man.

It was with a frown that Y/N eventually dozed off into a deep slumber. Not even in her dreams she was safe from the anxiety that plagued her, a nightmare about being fired stirring her awake at around four in the morning. She was more exhausted when she woke up than when she went to bed.

But despite all of it, her body still buzzed in anticipation of tonight’s class…

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east @mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah @kierramcduffie @harry2121 @babegoals @hermionelove @bitchidontpost @lomlolivia

#harry styles #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #blurb #harry #one direction #one shot #smut #excerpt #harryedwardstyles #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles

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simplygojo · 2 days ago

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Haunted Party - Nanami Kento

Author's Note: Hey gang, I have FINALLY finished all my kinktober fics (do not expect any smut from me anymore LMAO) and have finished it off with an entry for @fizee's Fic-Or-Treat event!!! I HOPE ONE OF YOU LIKE THIS I GOT HORRID WRITERS BLOCK <3

Fic-Or-Treat

Spooky Szn Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x f!reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Kinktober Taglist: @nanamisrighthand @simplyyyuji; @megumisdivinedogs; @lovleyredheadfairy

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, fingering, semi-public sex, haunted encounters.

The insurance company you worked for had a reputation for hosting some of the most extravagant Halloween parties.

Every year, they outdid themselves, turning lavish venues into eerie, haunted wonderlands filled with masked guests, dark costumes, and enough mystery to last until the next morning. This year was no different.

The theme was a "Haunted Royal Court," and the moment you arrived at the grand mansion, you could feel the weight of the night—luxurious yet unsettling, the perfect setting for an evening that would inevitably end in indulgence.

The chandeliers in the dimly lit entrance hall flickered ominously as you stepped inside, your heels clicking softly on the marble floor.

Cobwebbed tapestries lined the walls, the candlelight casting ghostly shadows over the guests mingling in their regal, haunted costumes.

A subtle sense of unease lingered in the air, but you knew that wasn’t just because of the atmosphere. It was because of him.

Kento Nanami.

Last Halloween had been the first–and last–time something had happened between you two.

The party that year had been just as extravagant, and after hours of drinks and stolen glances, the tension had exploded in a way you hadn’t expected.

By the end of the night, you’d found yourself in the parking lot, pressed up against his sleek black car, Nanami’s hands gripping your hips while his lips claimed yours in a moment of raw desire.

His usually composed demeanour had crumbled as the two of you fucked right there, under the cover of darkness, driven by alcohol and an unspoken need that neither of you had ever acknowledged.

But after that night, things had gone back to normal.

You didn’t talk about it. Neither of you had brought up the rushed, heated encounter that left your skin tingling for days. In fact…you practically never saw him in the office after that.

Maybe you both had reasons to pretend it didn’t happen, but the memory of his hands on you, his voice strained with lust, had never left your mind.

And now, at this year’s Halloween party, the tension between you was back—stronger than ever.

You adjusted the delicate lace sleeves of your gown, the dark fabric clinging to your curves in a way that felt both seductive and spectral.

The plunging neckline and sheer accents added a haunting allure, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit dangerous tonight.

A part of you wanted to see if Nanami would react the same way as last time, if the restraint that held him together would snap again.

As you stepped fully into the grand ballroom, you felt the weight of gazes tracing over you, lingering with curious admiration.

But one gaze felt different—intense, familiar, like a charged current that sparked every nerve ending to life.

You didn’t need to look to know it was him.

Even without meeting his eyes, you could feel Nanami’s attention on you, piercing through the other looks, as if he alone saw through the elaborate dress, the poised demeanour, right to the anticipation simmering beneath.

Adjusting the delicate lace sleeves of your gown, you let your fingers trail along the fabric, subtly drawing attention to the plunging neckline and the way the dark fabric moulded to your curves.

The gown was intricate yet daring, the sheer lace accents and shadowy hue creating an otherworldly allure that left you feeling more alive than you had in weeks.

You couldn’t help the shiver of satisfaction as you caught the faintest glimpse of Nanami’s gaze darkening from across the room.

The way his jaw clenched, the subtle tightening of his grip around the glass in his hand—it was the only confirmation you needed.

You moved with graceful ease, mingling through the crowd, chatting with a few coworkers who complimented your costume or shared a laugh over the elaborate decorations.

But even as you kept the conversation light and easy, your senses were hyper-focused on him, tracking his every move through the room, waiting to see if he would approach.

You could’ve sworn that you saw a few of your female coworkers throw subtle glances in Nanami’s direction—though whether out of respect for his commanding presence or curiosity about the mysterious aura he carried, you weren’t sure.

Eventually, you found yourself near his group, standing with a small cluster of colleagues by the dimly lit bar where he was seated.

The moment stretched taut as you casually joined their conversation, exchanging pleasantries and soft laughter with the others.

Your body hummed with awareness, every fibre of you attuned to his presence. Yet neither of you acknowledged the other.

The deliberate silence was its own kind of foreplay, unspoken and electric, drawing out the tension until it felt almost unbearable.

Every now and then, as you sipped your drink or listened to a story from a coworker, you’d feel his gaze drift in your direction, lingering just a second too long.

You swore you could feel his eyes trailing over the slope of your neck, the bare skin exposed by the daring cut of your gown, down to the curve of your waist.

And each time, your pulse quickened, your heartbeat echoing loud enough that you were sure someone nearby might hear.

The memory of that night in the dark, pressed against his car, his hands possessive on your body, his breath hot and ragged as he murmured your name—it was all there, simmering beneath the surface.

And as you laughed at a joke someone told, you sensed him shifting closer, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a magnetic pull.

You dared a sideways glance, catching a glimpse of the way his eyes roamed over you, his expression unreadable but filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without a word, Nanami’s hand brushed against yours—a feather-light touch, barely noticeable to anyone else, but enough to send sparks up your arm.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you forgot the others around you, lost in the silent promise that lingered in his gaze.

He stood beside you now, stoic in his ghostly nobleman’s attire, the sharp lines of his suit tailored perfectly to his broad frame.

His pale makeup gave him a haunting, refined edge, and despite the eerie theme of the evening, Nanami still exuded his usual calm intensity.

You hadn’t spoken much since you arrived, but his presence was enough to stir the familiar tension. You could feel his gaze on you occasionally, lingering, just as it had last year.

It was almost as if you were playing a game—seeing who would break first.

By the time you needed some air and a break from the meaningless small talk, your heart was already pounding with anticipation.

You excused yourself from the mingling crowd, stepping toward the grand staircase that led to the quieter, upper levels of the mansion.

The dim lighting cast long shadows over the bannisters, and the flickering candles added an almost supernatural glow to the space.

As you ascended the steps, you heard the familiar, steady sound of footsteps behind you.

You didn’t need to turn to know it was him.

Nanami’s presence filled the stairwell as he caught up, his larger frame moving with quiet determination.

He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel the tension building with each passing second.

"You left without saying anything," he finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the stillness.

It wasn’t accusatory, but there was something heavier beneath the words, something that made your pulse quicken.

You stopped on the landing, leaning against the banister with a teasing smile. "Didn’t think you’d notice."

As his steady footsteps echoed closer, your pulse quickened, and you couldn’t resist a sly smile.

You tilted your head, watching the flicker of something guarded—yet unmistakably intrigued—in his gaze.

Nanami stopped a few steps below, just close enough that you could see the subtle shifts in his expression, the guarded way he held himself in check.

His presence filled the narrow stairwell, quiet but commanding, and though he didn’t say anything right away, you felt his gaze take in every detail—the curve of your lips, the way the dark lace of your dress clung to your body.

His mouth quirked as his eyes snapped back up to yours, almost imperceptibly. "I notice plenty."

The words were simple, but the way his gaze swept over you made them feel like a confession.

He took another step forward, and the dim lighting cast shadows that accentuated his strong jawline, his broad shoulders filling the space with an effortless elegance.

His suit jacket cut perfectly to fit him, every inch of his appearance meticulously sharp, and for a moment, you almost lost your train of thought watching him approach.

He took another step, and then another, each movement careful, deliberate, like he was savouring every second of closing the space between you.

His eyes never left yours, and you could see the way he drank in every detail—how you stood just above him, the way your gown framed your silhouette against the stairwell’s low light.

It was almost like he wanted to memorize the sight of you, his stare unwavering, intent.

"You’re making it pretty damn hard not to notice, y/n." He said, his tone low, soft but with an edge that sent a thrill down your spine.

There was something dangerous in the way he looked at you now, the restraint in his gaze barely holding.

Your lips curved in a teasing smile as he drew closer, the heat in his gaze kindling your own excitement.

"Funny, I didn’t think you were paying attention."

Nanami’s lips parted, just the slightest bit, and his eyes narrowed, his expression still calm but undeniably intrigued.

"Is that what you want to believe?" He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over your form one more time before returning to your eyes.

Every step he took up those marble steps sent a wave of tension curling through you, the anticipation building to an unbearable peak.

And then he was only a step away, his gaze still locked with yours, his figure looming with a quiet authority that made the stairwell feel impossibly small.

A soft chuckle slipped past your lips, and you couldn’t help but lean in just a bit, closing the small space between you.

"You know," you said, your tone laced with challenge, "I almost thought you were avoiding me tonight."

Nanami’s gaze held yours as he finally reached you on the landing, and the corners of his mouth turned up in the slightest of smirks.

"Avoiding you would be the sensible thing to do," he murmured, the faintest trace of dry humour slipping into his voice.

"But you’re not very good at doing the sensible thing, are you?"

He let out a soft sigh, but his eyes betrayed him, lingering on the curve of your neck, the lace edging that skimmed over your collarbone before returning to your eyes.

"With you," he replied, the restraint in his voice palpable, "it’s difficult."

The confession, quiet yet so unmistakably Nanami, made your heart beat faster.

You couldn’t help but lean closer, the anticipation thrumming between you both like a live wire.

"I don’t mind making things difficult," you whispered, your voice just for him.

His fingers brushed along your waist, steady yet unmistakably possessive, as he looked at you with that same intense gaze he wore in the field—sharp, unyielding, and thoroughly focused.

"I know you don’t."

His words were soft, almost indulgent, but his hand tightened ever so slightly, as if warning himself not to give in.

You let your fingers lightly graze the lapel of his jacket, watching as his focus flickered to the touch, his own calm facade beginning to show cracks.

For a moment, the air felt thick, every shared glance and whispered word drawing you further into his orbit.

The faint lights of the stairwell cast a warm glow, leaving the world outside forgotten, as if you two were the only ones here.

Nanami's hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, his fingers firm and confident as he pulled you flush against him.

His gaze held yours with a powerful intensity, and the way he looked at you now was entirely unguarded—no walls, no restraint.

The flickering tension in his eyes had morphed into something resolute, an unspoken promise of what was about to unfold.

Without a word, his hand found the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair with a possessive strength that made your breath hitch. He leaned down, his mouth inches from yours, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, the air thick with the silent demand.

His lips brushed your ear, his voice low and commanding.

"You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?" His words weren’t a question but a statement, one that sent a thrill through you as his grip tightened ever so slightly.

Before you could answer, his mouth met yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. His lips moved with a hunger you hadn’t seen before, a raw, undeniable desire that left you breathless.

His other hand slid up your waist, his touch heavy and possessive, fingers digging into your hip as he drew you closer.

Your breaths became shallow, and you kissed him back desperately, going up on your tippy toes just to get a mere few centimetres closer.

When he broke the kiss, his gaze was darker, the restraint that usually tempered him nowhere to be seen.

His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his grip firm as he tilted your head to look up at him, his own eyes narrowed in focus.

His voice was a hushed growl, each word laced with an intensity that made your pulse race.

"God, you are the most beautiful living thing I have ever laid my eyes on," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek, rough and deliberate.

There was a fierce possession in his gaze, something raw and electric that left you feeling completely at his mercy.

Without another word, his hand slipped beneath the fabric at your waist, fingers splaying across your hip as he lifted you effortlessly against the wall.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around him, and he pressed against you, his touch steady yet undeniably commanding, his body anchoring yours in place.

His lips found your neck again, marking a trail along your skin as his grip tightened, each kiss firm–posessive.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.

His hand slid higher along your thigh, fingers gripping firmly, as if he were staking his claim on every inch of you.

The last shred of restraint slipped from him as his hand found its way under your dress, and he hooked his fingers around the fabric, shifting it aside gently only to insert his fingers in you with such dominance.

As soon as you felt his fingers stretch you out, you let out a loud gasp into the echoing hallway.

His other hand cupped the back of your neck, drawing your mouth to his in another searing kiss, one that left you breathless and desperate for more.

You could feel the controlled power in every movement he made, every flex of his fingers, his touch radiating an intensity that made you feel alive, like you were the center of his world in that moment.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He muttered, his voice a quiet, fervent rasp as his fingers attempted to memorize the feel of your warmth, his restraint slipping more with every word, every touch.

With a low growl, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you feeling momentarily empty until he undid his belt, his movements steady yet purposeful, his gaze dark with intent.

The sound of the buckle hitting the floor sent a thrill down your spine, and as he freed himself, the anticipation pooled hot and heavy in your core, building until it was almost unbearable.

His hand slipped up to the back of your neck, threading through your hair before giving a firm tug, tilting your head up so you had to look him in the eyes.

"You want this?" He muttered, his voice a rough, intense whisper that sent a shiver through you.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, laced with all the want and need that had been building up between you two for so long.

And then, with a slow, deep thrust, he entered you, filling you completely.

The sensation was electric, sparking along every nerve as he began to move, each thrust measured but intense, the pressure building with a relentless rhythm that had you clinging to him, gasping his name.

The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming, each stroke reaching deeper, grounding you even as it felt like you were unravelling.

Your body become hypersensitive, alive to every rough brush of his fingers, every scrape of fabric against your hot skin.

The sensation built up in waves, crashing and receding, leaving you on edge, breathless, yet craving even more.

Each time he pulled at your hair, a sharp spark ignited deep in your core, a flare of pleasure that spread outward, filling you up until it was all you could feel. You arched into him, mouth parting as a moan escaped you, your body yielding to every movement, every rough, deliberate stroke.

His name slipped from your lips like a prayer, your hands tangling in his hair, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you steady.

Each sound you made seemed to spur him on—his movements gaining intensity, each thrust deliberate, meant to leave you aching in the best way.

He tightened his hold on your hair, tilting your head back to expose the curve of your neck, and his mouth found the sensitive skin there, adding another layer of sensation that left you trembling beneath him.

The roughness, the unrestrained way he claimed you, made every nerve feel alive, sparking with pleasure until it was almost too much.

"Look at you," he rasped, his voice dark, almost reverent, as his gaze raked over you. "So beautiful…"

Every word, every thrust, pulled you closer to the edge, and as he continued, the pleasure reached a fever pitch, winding tighter until there was nothing but him, the feeling of his body against yours, the raw intensity of his movements.

And as he drove into you one last time, the release hit, crashing over you like a wave, leaving you breathless, clinging to him as the pleasure pulsed through you in endless, dizzying waves…

—

The next morning, you sat at your desk, barely focused on your work.

Memories of the night before were still fresh, each one laced with the lingering intensity of every look, every touch, every whispered word.

You couldn’t shake it—not that you wanted to.

Lost in thought, you glanced across the room at your coworker, Shoko, sitting a few desks over. Gathering yourself, you leaned in her direction, trying to sound casual as you asked, “Hey, Shoko. What do you think about Nanami?”

Shoko looked up, brows furrowed in confusion. “Nanami Kento?” she repeated, a curious edge in her voice. “The company’s old owner?”

You blinked, the words not fully registering at first. “Yeah, I mean… the guy from last night,” you said, a little thrown. “Wait—old owner? How old is he?”

Shoko’s confusion only deepened.

She tilted her head, clearly wondering if you were joking.

“What do you mean?” she said slowly, almost cautiously. “Nanami… he’s been dead for, like, twenty years.”

Your stomach dropped, a chill washing over you.

“Dead?” You managed, your voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” Erin continued, oblivious to the shock freezing you in place.

“Apparently, he was murdered. People say his spirit haunts the office building.” She paused, her voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper.

“And that old mansion where they host the Halloween party every year? He used to live there.”

Your breath caught as the room around you seemed to spin, last night’s encounters replaying in your mind with an entirely new—and chilling—clarity.

You tried to keep your expression steady, but your mind was racing.

Shoko had already turned back to her work, unaware of the spiral she’d just set off inside your head.

You took a steadying breath, trying to make sense of what she’d just said.

Did I just… fuck a ghost?

The absurdity of it clashed with the vivid, undeniable reality of what you’d felt last night—the warmth of his hands, the low rasp of his voice, the possessive way he’d held you.

Everything about Nanami had felt so real, so solid.

You could still feel the ghost of his fingers on your skin, the way your heart had raced when he whispered against your ear.

Your pulse quickened again, and you stole a glance around the room as if everyone might somehow know, but no one was watching you.

The memories replayed in your mind, each one taking on a new edge as you recalled his almost otherworldly intensity, the quiet way he’d moved, how he seemed to always appear exactly when you wanted him to… or perhaps, when he wanted to be seen.

You swallowed, trying to shake the thoughts out of your head, but Erin’s words echoed persistently. ‘Murdered twenty years ago. His spirit haunts the office building…’

And then, a detail you’d brushed off last night resurfaced.

He’d told you that ‘you are the most beautiful living thing he had ever laid his eyes on,’...that phrase had seemed flirtatious then, but now, it felt loaded with an eerie truth.

ty for hosting @fizee ur the best sorry I was so delayed LMAO

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brainworms-all-night-long · 2 days ago

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Oooough so um. You know the "Eggman finds and raises tails instead of Sonic" AUs and how that usually fucks up the little guy in a special way? Haha so I had an idea like that but with Nine

(Bear with me this is like half the shit my brain came up with on a 30 min car ride there's already so much abt this in my head help)

So a scrawny kit without a Denizen number was detained in Dr.Babble's district due to repeated offenses of wandering off the path and also under the suspicion of stealing and repurposing council robot parts (all strictly prohibited)

After some back and forth and confirmation that he has no affiliation with the resistance, or even a family house to be sent back and locked up in, the Council concludes he could be useful to them. The little thing is smart, knows his way around machines (if the reports are to be belived), is quiet and no one would miss him if things went wrong. He was a freak snatched off the street anyway.

Of course, their first thought was to fully robotize him, and have him do some basic maintenance or reconnaissance alongside Rusty, one of their only actual still standing successful robotized projects, but Mr.Dr. objects, saying it would be a waste if they turned him into a mindless drone doing basic work. So they agree (to disagree) to give it some time and let them see what they're working with, it's not like the little guy is expected to be somewhere else.

After a few days of not-so-subtle emotional manipulation and observation of the fox at work, it's concluded (albeit very begrudgingly) that he has the skills and intellect to match and even surpass all five members of the council.

Of course, that's a threat and a very high liability if the the little freak gets any funny ideas, so the council actually has to play smart instead of brute force their way to subjugation like usual.

A deal is proposed.

If the little fox, now their ninth robotization project in wait, agrees to pledge his alliance directly under the thumb of the council and is fine with the loss and metallic replacement of just a few body parts and vital organs, in turn, he doesn't have to mingle with the measly and pathetic citizens bellow ever again, gains full reign over all of the resources available (with strings attached of course) to keep the five men at full power and finally destroy any resistance once and for all.

The kit, now marked 09 (or simply 9 for colloquial convenience) accepts the deal without much hesistation, the loss of his vital organs seemed to spook him the most, but it's not like he cares about anyone in the city, or vice versa. As far as he sees it, losing his biological arms and jaw is hardly a difficult deal for being sound and secure, fed and housed, protected from any and all elements, and left alone for most of his days. He now lives in the walls of the Tyrants' castle yes, but it's not like he has any reason to feel bad or like he betrayed anyone.

Not like he ever knew anything else but cold pavement and eye-blinding xenon in a city where you can only trust yourself. It's either dying under the suffocating regime or taking any chance given to swing above it. He just got lucky, and it was about damn time he did.

The resistance is nothing but a desperate cult of people deluding themselves with unreachable fantasies and sending their followers on suicide missions. The citizens nothing but ants there to keep the machine running and make all the infrastructure around them useful, and 09, finally, stood above both.

#sonic prime #dhdgdhfg so yea yea I had an idea like so way back when #basicaly thinking abt why there isnt any actually threatening robo tails #and its just cuz his strongest suit is his brain that is on par to Eggman's #so it would be realy dumb to enhance it. just to have a super genious robot mechanic rebel and take you over #or of you do just make him a mindless robot executing orders again. his brain is lost. so tehres no point #exept what if #what if it was the body he controled. while his mind was broken and working for him [eggman]#so yea I took that and slapped it onto nine #you know Heimdal deom gow: ragnarok?#yea yea thats basically 09 here exept he thinks too much but lacks perception #if you know you know Ill explain his shitty personality later because Im about to explode #uuguhh I want to weite it all down immiditely but thers stoo muchh #miles nine prower #nine the fox #project 09 #<- theres a lot to this ong #silly brainworms #sonic au

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tanjamikaelson · 1 day ago

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BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 3

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 3: | RUMOUR |

You sat cross-legged on your bed, earbuds in, music playing softly as you replayed the events of last night in your mind. Every time you thought about Rafe, a heat crept up your cheeks. The memory of his touch lingered, the way his fingers had moved against you, sending shivers through your body. It was intoxicating, the way he made you feel—wanted, desired. You had never felt anything like it before. The thought of it stirred something inside you, something you hadn’t been able to shake all day.

You were so lost in the memory that you didn’t hear the door burst open until Sarah’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “Y/N, is it true?”

Startled, you pulled out your earbuds, eyes snapping up to meet hers. “What?” you asked, still caught between your thoughts and the sudden reality of her presence. The look on her face—disappointment, anger—hit you like a punch to the gut.

“You slept with Rafe?!” The words exploded out of her, each syllable laced with betrayal.

Your heart dropped. “No, I didn’t,” you said quickly, shaking your head, but the hurt in her eyes didn’t waver.

“Then why is everybody talking about it?” Sarah’s arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her posture defensive and hurt. She wasn’t just your best friend—she was like a sister. And now, standing there, she looked at you like she didn’t know you at all.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “My ex showed up at the party,” you began, your voice steady but laced with frustration. “I told everyone what he did to me... how he cheated. And Rafe—he stepped in to protect me. My ex was jealous and started spreading rumors.”

Sarah’s expression softened, the anger fading just a bit as she processed your words. “And Rafe broke his nose,” she said, piecing together the bits of information she must have heard throughout the day.

“Yeah, he did,” you confirmed. “He didn’t let him disrespect me like that, in front of everyone.”

You could see the tension leaving her shoulders, the rigidness of her posture easing. “I guess it’s nice of Rafe to do that,” she muttered, almost begrudgingly.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest, unexpected and light. “Oh wow, I never thought I’d hear you say something nice about your brother.”

Sarah rolled her eyes but smiled, the last of the anger melting away. She sank onto the bed beside you, a sigh escaping her lips. “Hey, I didn’t say he was nice, just that what he did was.” Her tone was playful, but you could hear the undercurrent of relief.

You nodded, smiling at her. “Yeah, okay.”

But even as you joked, a small knot of guilt tightened in your chest. You hadn’t lied to Sarah, not completely. You and Rafe hadn’t slept together, but what had happened between you was still real, still intimate. And you couldn’t tell her, not yet. Maybe one day you’d find the words to explain, to make her understand, but not now. Now, the truth would only hurt her more.

“So, you want to go dress shopping tomorrow for midsummers?” Sarah asked, her voice casual, as if she was trying to push past the tension that had filled the room moments ago.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, grateful for the change in subject, and for the opportunity to move forward.

Sarah smiled, the kind of smile that lit up her whole face, and for a moment, everything felt normal again. “Can’t wait.”

•°•°•°•°•°•

The next day, you arrived at Sarah’s house, excited for a day of dress shopping and distractions. You had spent most of the morning thinking about what you wanted to wear for the midsummer event, picturing yourself in all sorts of dresses, each one more beautiful than the last. But when you reached Sarah’s room, she wasn’t there. You called out her name, but the house was unusually quiet.

Confused, you made your way back downstairs, pausing when you saw Rafe lounging on the couch, his expression unreadable. “Hey, where’s Sarah?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, though the disappointment of not finding your friend was creeping in.

Rafe shrugged, looking genuinely clueless. “I have no idea.”

“She told me yesterday to come so we could go shopping...” You trailed off, glancing around, wondering where she could be.

“Well, I haven’t seen her either,” Rafe said, then paused, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip. “Can we talk? Privately?”

Your heart rate picked up, but you nodded. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Without another word, Rafe stood and grabbed your hand, pulling you gently but firmly up the stairs and into his room. The door clicked shut behind you, the sound somehow final, sealing you both in. He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours, his expression serious.

“About the other night...” Rafe began, his voice careful, as if he was testing the waters. “If I made you feel uncomfortable...”

You shook your head quickly, the words tumbling out before he could finish. “No, Rafe. You didn’t.” You took a breath, trying to find the right words. “I just don’t want Sarah to know. She almost found out the truth after my ex spread that rumor.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening. “I know. He got what he deserved.”

You smiled, the memory of your ex writhing on the floor, blood streaming from his nose, bringing a dark satisfaction. “He did. I loved seeing him like that.”

Rafe’s lips curved into a smirk, his eyes lighting up. He was glad you felt the same way, glad that he hadn’t overstepped. Your gaze drifted around his room, and you noticed a baby blue suit hanging on the closet door, pristine and elegant.

“Nice suit,” you remarked, nodding towards it. “Are you wearing that to midsummers?”

Rafe glanced at the suit, then back at you, nodding. “Yeah. What are you wearing?”

You shrugged, the truth still hanging in the air between you. “I don’t know yet. I was supposed to go dress shopping with Sarah...” But as you said the words, an idea sparked in your mind, a way to match, to be connected without anyone knowing.

Before you could finish the thought, Rafe closed the space between you, his presence overwhelming. You felt the door press against your back, his body inches from yours. His gaze was intense, his voice low and steady as he spoke. “So... I would like that to happen again...” His words hung in the air, charged with the memory of what had transpired between you both at Kelce’s party.

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew exactly what he was referring to, and the thought of it made heat pool in your belly. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “But not right now.”

Rafe cocked his head to the side, his eyes darkening with something that made your pulse quicken. “When?”

You shook your head, feeling the frustration build. “I don’t know. When Sarah’s not around.”

Rafe’s hand brushed against your arm, his touch featherlight, sending shivers down your spine. “She’s not here right now,” he reminded you, his smirk almost teasing.

“But she could come back any minute,” you countered, your voice a whisper, but filled with urgency.

Rafe sighed, the sound heavy with disappointment. “So you want us completely alone? We’re never completely alone.”

You sighed too, mirroring his frustration, feeling it thrum between you like a live wire. “I know, but we can figure something out.”

Rafe stepped back, his eyes narrowing slightly, his voice laced with annoyance. “Well, let me know when you do.” He turned away, his shoulders tense, his disappointment palpable.

You stood there, your back still pressed against the door, your heart racing. The tension between you was almost unbearable, and as he turned his back on you, a mix of emotions swirled inside you—desire, frustration, and the nagging guilt that came from keeping this secret from Sarah. You had to find a way to make this right, to figure out what you really wanted before everything spiraled out of control.

You fled from his room, your heart pounding, the walls feeling like they were closing in on you. You needed air, space—anything to clear your head. The intensity of Rafe’s gaze, the weight of his words, and the way your body responded to him had all been overwhelming. You could barely think straight as you made your way down the hallway, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts.

Rafe stood there, stunned, watching as you hurried out. He hadn’t expected you to leave like that, so abruptly, without a second glance. He felt a sharp pang in his chest, a strange mixture of frustration and confusion that he couldn’t quite place. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he tried to process what had just happened. He hadn’t meant to push you away. Hell, he hadn’t even realized how much he wanted you to stay until he watched you walk out the door, leaving him alone with nothing but the echo of your presence. A bitter taste settled in his mouth as he replayed the last few moments over and over in his mind.

Why did you leave?

Rafe felt a surge of anger—at himself, mostly. He had been so close, so close to having you again, to feeling your warmth, to experiencing the high of being near you. The memory of the other night, the way your body had responded to his touch, was still fresh in his mind, burning like a brand against his skin. And now, standing alone in his room, he felt that heat turning into a gnawing ache. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, trying to shake off the tension that coiled tightly in his chest. His thoughts were a chaotic mess—part of him wanted to chase after you, to drag you back into the room and make you stay until you understood how much he needed you. But another part, the one that knew he had already pushed too hard, told him to let you go, to give you the space you were clearly asking for.

Rafe’s jaw clenched as he replayed the conversation in his mind. He knew he could be intense—too intense, sometimes—but he couldn’t help it. Not when it came to you. There was something about you that drove him crazy, made him feel things he didn’t understand, things he didn’t want to admit even to himself.

He turned and punched the wall beside him, the sharp pain in his knuckles a welcome distraction from the turmoil inside his head. He didn’t know what to do with all the emotions swirling inside him—frustration, desire, a strange sense of vulnerability that he wasn’t used to feeling. You had gotten under his skin, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

Rafe let out a low, bitter laugh. He was angry—angry at himself for scaring you off, angry at the situation, angry at everything that kept him from having what he wanted. And what he wanted was you. Completely, without hesitation, without hiding.

He knew you were scared—scared of what being with him would mean, scared of how Sarah would react, scared of how this would change things between all of you. But he was scared, too, even if he’d never say it out loud. Scared of wanting you this much, scared of what it meant if you didn’t want him the same way.

Rafe stared at the door for a long moment, his chest heaving as he tried to rein in the storm of emotions crashing through him. He wanted to run after you, to pull you into his arms and tell you that he’d wait, that he’d do whatever it took to make this work. But he knew that right now, that wasn’t what you needed.

With a deep, shuddering breath, he turned away from the door, the frustration simmering under his skin like a live wire. He needed to cool off, to clear his head, to figure out how to fix this. Because he wasn’t ready to give up—not on you, not on what you could be together.

But for now, he’d have to let you go.

For now.

•°•°•°•°•°•

The warmth of sunset had started to settle over the open field, casting long shadows and soft light over everyone who had come out for the outdoor movie night. You found a spot on the grass with some friends, surrounded by laughter and the quiet hum of conversation as the film began. But as the movie dragged on, you found yourself losing interest, your thoughts drifting.

A glance around the crowd was all it took to pull you from your thoughts—you spotted Rafe a few feet away, sitting with Topper and Kelce. He didn’t look like he was enjoying the movie either, his elbow propped up on his knee, his cheek resting in his hand as he pouted at the screen. His presence seemed to fill the air around you, sending a small thrill through your chest.

You couldn’t help but notice when he eventually got up, his broad shoulders and confident stance drawing your attention like a magnet. Without really thinking, you rose to your feet and decided to follow him, weaving through the crowd.

Rafe led you around the back of the movie screen, and it didn’t take long to see what was happening. Rafe, Topper, and Kelce had cornered JJ and Pope, the tension crackling in the air. Before you could even process what was happening, punches were being thrown, and a brutal fight erupted between the kooks and pogues.

“Don’t do this, guys!” you yelled, but your voice was lost in the chaos, falling on deaf ears.

Suddenly, a flash of movement caught your eye. Kie appeared from nowhere, gripping JJ’s backpack with both hands as she swung it at Topper, landing a blow square against his back. “Let go of him, Topper! Fascist asshole!” she shouted, her voice carrying a mixture of fear and fury. Topper, unfazed, turned on her, yanking the bag out of her hands and tossing it aside as he tightened his grip on Pope.

Your gaze shifted to Rafe, who was busy landing a punch on JJ, while Kelce held him firmly, keeping him from fighting back. Kie, seeing this, leaped onto Topper’s back, clawing at him, trying desperately to pull him away from Pope.

The sight must have caught Rafe’s attention because he turned and immediately moved towards them. He grabbed Kie around the waist, pulling her off Topper effortlessly, her legs kicking out as she fought against him.

“Let go of me, Rafe!” she screamed, writhing in his grip.

“Stay out of this, Kiara. Okay?” Rafe’s voice was low, and cold, as he tossed her aside, sending her stumbling to the ground.

Your heart pounded as you watched Kie rummage through the backpack, her fingers closing around something. Your eyes widened as you realized it was a gun.

“Kie!” you called out, rushing over to grab her hand, panic filling your voice.

She looked up at you, her expression wild and unyielding, yanking her hand away. “Don’t!” she snapped, her tone sharp with desperation and anger. Then, without missing a beat, she stuffed the gun back into the bag, her hand now pulling out a lighter.

“Kie, stop!” you pleaded, but she pushed you back, her eyes blazing with a resolve you hadn’t seen in her before.

“Stop being on their side!” she shouted, her voice echoing over the scene. Without another word, she flicked the lighter and held it to the screen, setting it ablaze.

The next thing you knew, flames erupted, consuming the movie screen and casting an orange glow over the chaotic scene. It was a bold, desperate attempt to end the fight, and it worked.

The sudden blaze shocked everyone. For a moment, all movement stopped, the fire commanding everyone’s attention as it leaped and crackled against the night sky. The Kooks froze, stunned by the unexpected turn, their faces illuminated by the flames.

Rafe let out a dark laugh, the flicker of fire reflecting in his eyes. “Let’s go, Kelce,” he muttered, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. His gaze landed on you, still crouched on the ground, and his expression hardened slightly. Without hesitation, he strode over, reaching down to grab your arm, and pulling you up to your feet.

“You shouldn’t have tried to stop us,” he said, his voice laced with annoyance, though a flicker of something softer lay behind it.

“I don’t like it when there’s a fight,” you replied, brushing the dirt and grass off your clothes, but he wasn’t listening.

“They sank Topper’s boat and held a gun to his head,” Rafe explained his tone a mix of frustration and something darker. "We’re supposed to just let it slide?”

You stayed silent, knowing that arguing with him now would only make things worse. He nudged you forward, a light push urging you to start walking with him. As you moved forward, you felt his hand smack against your backside, making you stumble slightly in surprise.

When you glanced over your shoulder, he smirked, feigning innocence. "Your butt had dirt on it," he chuckled, but there was a gleam in his eye that suggested otherwise.

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, Rafe’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm and pulling you aside, away from prying eyes. You barely had a second to process before your back was pressed against a wall, his face inches from yours.

"Don’t roll your eyes at me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

"You’re annoying," you shot back, trying to mask the thrill that raced through you at his closeness.

A smirk spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, am I?” he murmured, his voice dripping with a playful edge. “Was I also annoying when I gave you an orgasm without asking for anything in return?”

Your pulse quickened, and you struggled to keep your composure. "No. You’re just annoying now," you muttered, trying to ignore the heat pooling inside you.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You’re annoying too, you know that?"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “How so?”

His face darkened slightly, the playfulness turning into something more intense. “You rejected me earlier today when I wanted something more to happen,” he said, his tone holding a hint of frustration.

“It wasn’t like that—” you started to explain, but he cut you off, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

“But I bet you’d want another orgasm. wouldn’t you?” he whispered, his voice rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you were speechless. Unable to hold back, you nodded slightly, the admission causing a flicker of amusement in his gaze. His hand slid along your thigh, pressing just enough to make you part your legs in response. He chuckled softly, his fingers skimming over the edge of your short dress, teasing you with a touch that was both gentle and maddeningly slow.

“Is that why you’re wearing this short dress?” he murmured, his fingers brushing along the edge of your panties. “You knew I would be here.”

“Rafe—” you breathed out, your voice shaky as his touch ignited a fire inside you.

He grinned, a smug glint in his eyes as he continued teasing you, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. “Shit. Does this turn you on?” he asked, his voice low and amused.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the moan building in your throat. His hand shifted, moving your panties to the side, his fingers slipping through your wet folds, making you whimper.

“Are you turned on because anyone could catch us?” he questioned, his voice rough, “Or do I just have that effect on you?”

“Both,” you answered quickly, barely able to contain yourself.

Rafe let out a quiet laugh, pleased by your neediness. His fingers moved with more purpose, sliding over your sensitive skin, his touch driving you closer to the edge. You clutched at his hand, desperate for him to keep going.

“This is the last time I’m giving you an orgasm without getting one in return,” he warned, his tone dark and possessive.

Rafe’s lips found your neck, and he began to leave a trail of heated kisses, making sure to leave a mark. You clung to him, your need for him overpowering any sense of caution. His hand moved expertly, and you felt yourself melting under his touch, gasping as he continued.

"Do you ever touch yourself while thinking of me?" he murmured, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Yes," you admitted, barely able to form the word.

He groaned softly, his own desire evident in the way he pressed against you, his breath hot against your skin. “I’d like to see that,” he murmured, his fingers speeding up, the pressure driving you closer to the brink.

The intensity in his gaze made your cheeks flush, and you could barely meet his eyes as he looked at you, his own filled with a fierce longing. You felt your resolve crumble as he kissed your neck again, his fingers working faster. The familiar tension built in your core, your breaths coming quicker as he guided you toward the edge. When your orgasm hit, you bit down on your lip to muffle your moans, your body going limp as the pleasure overtook you.

Rafe held you steady, his grip strong, and as your legs threatened to give out, he kept you from crumpling to the ground.

TAGS: @wearemadeofstardust0 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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fall0utmind · 23 hours ago

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Gattino - Rosquez One shot (~2k)

Oh hey, did someone want a stupid one shot where Marc gets a helmet with cat ears?? No? Have it anyways :)

As per usual, come talk to me xx

It had been a hot summer so far, the sun beating down on the dirt track during the day; the atmosphere was oppressive with no breeze to break it. The evenings brought cooler air which was beautiful to sit out in, but the nights were unpleasant, too hot for even a sheet. Even so, the academy rode, and Vale watched them. He advised them on their water breaks, which were more frequent at this time of the year, telling them where they were losing time and how to improve. Afterwards, they scrambled inside, racing each other and laughing like schoolboys rather than fully grown adults. Valentino wasn't sure where they got the energy from.

The evening sun was slanting through the big windows, casting the room in hues of gold. Valentino was sitting on one of the comfy sofas writing up notes from the track session. It had been a long day at the ranch, full of motorbikes and joy. The boys were changing and getting sorted for dinner, their chatter drifting down the hallway. It was comfortable, having his house full of laughter over the summer; sometimes it felt too lonely when they weren’t here.

Luca was the first one back downstairs, his hair still slightly damp from the shower. He smiled at Vale before heading into the kitchen, mind already set on food. Valentino rolled his eyes fondly and watched his brother disappear, knowing the other boys would come down soon, clamouring for a meal. They usually took turns to make dinner, fostering a sense of comradery that he was immensely proud of in his academy. Tonight was Pecco and Luca's turn; he had heard them conferring over lunch. Valentino was just thankful it was not Bez or Cele, or the kitchen might not be standing by the night’s end.

Right on cue, Bez screeched from somewhere in the house, the sound of heavy footfall following. It stopped suddenly before a round of obnoxious later exploded from the direction of the bedrooms. The running started up again, multiple people this time.

Bez came rushing through the door, clutching his phone and shouting as he did so, "Luca!! LUCA".

Pecco and Franky rushed in after him, Franky was laughing hard, whereas Pecco looked torn between confusion and amusement. Luca popped his head out of the kitchen, frowning at the commotion, "What is It Bez?", he asked. Valentino heard a harsh cuss before a thump as Bez smacked into the kitchen doorframe. It prompted the others to burst into giggles, used to Bez's clumsiness.

Bez simply thrust his phone at Luca as he pouted and rubbed his head. Valentino honestly began to consider babyproofing the house if his boys continued to act like children. As if to prove the point, Cele ran through the door at full speed, almost colliding with Pecco. He steadied the younger gently and grinned at Cele’s embarrassed smile, "Watch it piccolo", his voice was tinged with amusement as he chided him. Cele scowled at the nickname, unimpressed. Vale shook his head at them, trying to suppress his overly fond grin.

Bez was practically jumping up and down as Luca took the phone, almost yelling at him in excitement. Luca shushed him, and Bez quietened down enough that Valentino could hear rapid-fire Spanish playing from the phone’s speaker. Luca’s cheeks began to turn pink, his mouth agape as he stared at the phone in his hands. When the video ended indicated by the lack of Spanish, the whole group dissolved into laughter. Every time one of them looked back at Luca’s stunned face, they doubled over once more. Bez was gasping around his words, "fuck that's so funny. Luca’s face. Jesus, of course, he posted it like a thirst trap, classic Marquez".

Vale froze. Which brother were they talking about? And what the hell was a thirst trap? And why the hell were his boys so invested in it? His interest was piqued; he needed to see the video. He stood up and strolled into the kitchen, aiming for casual despite his racing thoughts. When he approached the group, Luca and Pecco both shot him panicked looks, the former even stepping away from Valentino. He frowned in confusion, cocking his head slightly. Well, that answered the question of which brother. Pecco had grown surprisingly close to Marc since they had been teammates, and he now avoided all conversations about the Spaniard with Valentino. It made sense, although Valentino had stopped being so publicly anti-Marc, he certainly wasn’t fond of the man. Not at all.

(Definitely not)

Valentino held his hand out to Luca, who shook his head frantically in response. It made Valentino feel like he had missed something important. Anger bubbled inside him. The others were looking between the two brothers now, uncertainty radiating off them. Valentino arched an eyebrow at Luca, who sighed but passed him the phone with a look that told him he wouldn’t like what he saw.

On the screen was a video from Alex Marquez's Instagram story. It started with Alex laughing hard with a friend, talking in rapid-fire Catalan; the only bit Vale understood was Marc’s name. The next frame showed Marc, standing shirtless as Alex gave him a box from behind the camera; the younger could be heard laughing in the background as Marc opened the gift. A rapid series of emotions crossed his face: confusion to shock, to embarrassment, before finally settling on a cocky smirk as he lifted a helmet out of the box. At first glance the helmet was normal- sleek glossy black with a dark visor. Until Marc spun it in his hands, revealing two little pieces on top. Valentino flicked his eyes up to Luca, wondering why it was so funny. He realised before Luca could say, it was funny because the helmet had cat ears. Alex had brought Marc a helmet with little ears on it as some kind of stupid joke. The Marc in the phone lifted his head to look directly at the camera, trailing his hands over the ears as he winked and simply said, "For Luca".

Valentino stared at the screen for so long that it turned black. He vaguely remembered a promotional video Luca had done for Honda last year- one where Luca had said that he would like Marc to wear this helmet. Something hot pulled in his gut. He tried to ignore it.

The boys had fallen into an awkward silence, waiting for Vale to make a move. He could not stop imagining Marc in the helmet. Marc's sharp grin when he won His eyes dark as he flipped up the visor.

Fuck.

Valentino’s voice was a little too deep and gravelly when he spoke, "he will look ridiculous". He could only hope they didn't notice. He almost chucked the phone back at Luca, fleeing the scene. Behind him, the boys stared in bemusement, only Luca looked on with a knowing look in his eyes.

By the time dinner was ready, Valentino had firmly pushed all thoughts of Marc to the back of his mind. He steadfastly ignored the looks Bez and Pecco shot him throughout the meal, focusing the conversation on tomorrow's training plan instead. He spoke to Cele about tucking tighter in the corners and told Franky about the areas of the track where he was losing speed. He saw Pecco and Luca conversing quietly out of the corner of his eyes and had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that they were talking about him.

Once the dishes were washed and put away, the whole group settled in the living room, sprawled out across furniture and the floor. Valentino had cracked out a bottle of wine; it was summer break after all. Pecco was second in the championships, just behind Marc, who had gone from strength to strength on the Ducati. It was, admittedly, rather impressive, and Marc looked good in red. He paused, wondering how he had yet again begun thinking about Marc. He cursed himself for his weakness.

The buzz of a phone was loud, even above the murmurs of conversation and hushed music that Vale had picked out. A choked-off noise ripped him from his musings and he raised his eyes to look at the source. Luca was staring at his phone again, eyes like saucers. The boys closer to him clambered over to see what he was looking at. Bez and Cele started cackling immediately; even Pecco was smirking, rolling his eyes fondly. Bez turned to Luca, "Ah, I think he liked your idea", he said in a teasing voice. Luca chuckled, slightly far away, "fucking hell, clearly. Is this on his public?". The other boys laughed harder at the comment. Vale felt lost. He tuned them out as they continued to joke around, unwilling to be drawn into Marc Marquez once again. Instead, he ran through the mental imagery of every corner in the 2006 championship.

He tried to follow the conversation after that, but he was far away for the rest of the night. His glass of wine had been finished and refilled a few times over. Valentino refused to give in to the temptation. He didn't care about Marc. He didn't want to know what the hell he was doing. And yet, as the night wore on, Valentino’s mind kept drifting to him. Marc smiling underneath him, his eyes crinkled and fucked out. Marc, shirtless, on his sofa at the ranch. Marc wearing the helmet as he sped around Valentino’s track, on one of Valentino's bikes. The possessive part of him was very pleased by the idea. It was a heady thought, addictive in the way that only Marc could be. It led his brain down a path that he tried not to tread. Not anymore. It was only once the boys had all headed to bed that Vale gave in. It was slightly embarrassing to unblock Marc on social media for this.

(But so worth it.)

His most recent post was a series of five slides, the caption simply read “Meow” and tagged Luca. Something akin to jealousy burned inside of him. The photos were various shots of Marc in the helmet. He was shirtless, standing outside by a pool, sweat trailing down his bronzed skin. The Spanish sun was lighting him up like some kind of Greek god, carved from marble and made to be worshipped. Valentino licked his lips subconsciously, enraptured by the flex of his abs and pecs. He had the helmet on, it made Valentino freeze like a rabbit in headlights. In the first two photos, the visor was down, hiding his facial expression, but Marc had flipped the visor up in the others. He was laughing in the one, crinkles in the corner of his eyes which were honeyed in the sunlight. The second one was straight out of a wet dream. Marc looked hungry, as he did when he raced. His eyes were hard and determined - deep pools of molten fire. Valentino shifted in his seat. He flicked to the final slide, a video this time. Alex and Marc were dirt biking, the younger chasing Marc around the track, following a black helmet with little pointy ears. Marc was riding like a maniac, his cackle heard over the roar of the bikes. The video ended when he skidded to a stop, flipping his visor up and smiling widely at the camera.

Valentinos heart was beating out his chest. He can't remember the last time he was so turned on. Over a goddamn Instagram post of all things.

Maybe he was getting old.

Maybe it was just because of Marc.

But when he finally dragged himself to bed, he dreamt of the younger man. It came in flashes of golden skin, dirty smiles, and hot nights. But somewhere, deep in his dreams, he was chasing Marc around the track, his cat ear helmet hiding his bright grin.

#motogp #marc marquez #rosquez #motogp rpf #my fics #cat coded! marc #valentino rossi #pecco bagnaia #new fic???#cant even finish the others #lol #i really enjoyed this though #wrote it in an hour #no beta #lets gooooooooooooo

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svsss-brainrot-blog · 24 hours ago

Note

Luo Binghe and Shen yuan interaction where Luo Binghe can read Shen Yuans thoughts.

It comes with the dusk, after a long day handling strange flowers for trade, when Shizun deigns to allow his humble and devoted husband to bathe him, and run the teeth of his ivory comb through long, dark tresses.

“Ah, Luo Binghe,” echoes in the back of his mind, like a sacred whisper, something warm flowing within it. “You are far too good to this old man.”

His hands still for a moment, halfway through a stroke of devotion. With a curious hum, Shizun’s eyes open, catching his in the mirror, and a trace of confusion slinks through that place behind his own thoughts.

“Binghe? Is something wrong?” His eyes search over him in that way they always have, but there is nothing to see when his mind is where the curiosity lays.

The thing is, Luo Binghe is not unused to having another’s thoughts in his mind. But he has never had Shizun’s. Even more so, it seems his revered master and husband has no idea that he’s doing it. Perhaps one of the Tethered Thought Lilies from earlier had managed to cling some of its pollen to the demon’s sleeve without notice. A careless mistake, he ought to know better. He’ll have to scour the room to make sure he didn’t track anything else in by accident.

“Nothing is wrong, Shizun,” Luo Binghe assured him, resuming the task at hand. The lilies were not very potent, and with the level of cultivation he and his husband possessed, they could not garner an effect for more than a few incense sticks’ worth of time, if that. “This humble disciple was only admiring the beautiful view.”

Right on cue, a fetching trace of pink races to color the fine, soft pale skin of Shen Qingqiu’s face.

“I swear he’s trying to get me to explode some days! What shameless words! How much more must I be expected to endure before he makes his move?”

“Shizun must know,” Luo Binghe continues, setting down the comb in favor of nosing along his husband’s neck. “That he is the best sight this unworthy one could ever see, in any lifetime.”

“This is it,” come Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts, trilling with something like anticipation. “The part where he kisses me and whisks me away...”

Luo Binghe smiled, and, just to be contrary, pulled back to pick up the comb once more.

“Huh? He didn’t…?”

Luo Binghe twisted the long, luxurious hair into a simple braid. “May this lowly one accompany Shizun to rest?”

“What. The. Hell.” His Shizun’s voice nipped at his mind, filled with a buzz that the demon lord could only identify as the beginnings of irritation. “Where the fuck is my kiss, Luo Binghe?! All that talk all day of love and devotion and you aren’t even going to kiss your one and only fucking husband goodnight?! What was all that buildup today for if you were going to back off at the last moment?!”

“If it pleases Binghe, this master will permit it,” is what his husband actually says with grace and elegance, but Luo Binghe is struck dumb for a moment by the sheer intensity and vulgarity that just swept through his mind. Something sharp and unpleasant digs into his consciousness where he can feel their short, unplanned bond.

With a smooth motion, Shen Qingqiu stands from the vanity and slips away, and as soon as his hair leaves Luo Binghe’s hands, the thread that binds them snaps.

“Shizun wait,” the demon calls, quickly moving to hold the other around the waist, nearly melting as the feeling of connection returns.

“Stupid.” Shizun’s voice cuts through at the first brush, cold and cruel. “What idiotic thing was I thinking? He had his fill just this morning, he would not care enough for it again so soon. And why should I care? Not every word is meant to ply my willingness. Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

And then, a thought so quiet, it barely registers under all the other cacophony. “Did I do something to displease him? Is that why?”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe calls, once more burrowing into his neck. Guilt cut thick through his heart, making the scar on his chest ache. Shizun would fret, and undo all the effort Luo Binghe had put into his relaxing bath, but he could not bear to let his most beloved think he was unwanted. “…Shizun could never displease this lowly demon.”

“What.” Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts echo his words.

“Forgive me, Shizun,” Luo Binghe asks, tightening his hold. “It seems this unfilial one had some pollen left on his sleeves from the Tethered Thought Lilies. I should not have pried.”

“FUCK,” his inner thoughts declare as he abruptly pulls away.

“Luo Binghe!” his master chastises with a scandalized expression. “You-!”

“Shizun’s thoughts are so straightforward,” Luo Binghe says, bowing his head. “And this one did not think the short duration would be of consequence. But this Luo Binghe was wrong.” Still, he reached out, pulling the other close once again. “But this one did not mean to upset his husband, whom he loves dearly and longs for with great affection.”

With as much repentance as he could muster, Luo Binghe laid a chaste kiss at the corner of his husband’s lips. The immortal master simply stared at him for several long moments, tumultuous emotions flittering through the back of Luo Binghe’s mind faster than he could decipher.

“Take me to bed if you’re truly so sorry, you foolish thing.”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe purred, lifting the other easily into his arms for a proper kiss as he carried them to their chambers. “I love you.”

“Fool,” Shizun sighed, acting put upon even as a trill of pleased satisfaction rumbled through Luo Binghe’s thoughts.

“I love you too.”

#writing prompt #svsss #mxtx svsss #shen qingqiu #mxtx #shen yuan #luo binghe #bingqiu #svsss ficlet

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hiddenzev · 2 days ago

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Take A Shot : Chapter 1 [ Kick Off ]

Pairing: Joel Miller x soccer player f!reader

Chapter Summary: You return to your hometown where your history with Joel started.

Chapter Warnings --- no beta, fluff, light angst, Idiots in Love, childhood friends

WC: 7.7k

series masterlist, AO3

A/N: Finally another fic is out! I've been busyyy and I know this is not going to be a consistent updating as my previous fic but I will try my best because this was more fun to write. Also, my favourite football (soccer) team is not performing well since a few weeks ago and it's been depressing yall...im not okay...fuckkk Hope yall enjoy this one even tho yall may not be soccer fans.

— May 2024 —

"Dad! Let's go!"

9-year-old Sarah stood by the truck, waiting for her dad to get out of the house. She tapped her foot restlessly, annoyed that Joel was taking longer than expected to get ready to go. She was excited to watch her favourite soccer team, Austin Violet Football Club, play the first game of the new season. She was dressed in the home jersey and shorts, pairing them with the team's scarf around her neck, hair styled as space buns with the help of Joel. The club director invited her to watch the game after signing a 2-year contract for the Austin Violet Football Academy—a part of the Austin Violet FC consisting of both men and women.

Sarah was an aspiring soccer player. She fell in love with the game at 6, when her great-grandmother played it on TV while she was babysitting her. Since then, she had been going on and on about soccer, and Joel signed her up for a youth soccer club nearby that honed her soccer skills to be selected for Austin Violet Football Academy. It was the most ecstatic she had ever felt in her 9 years of a lifetime when Joel told her that she was selected to join the youth academy. Nothing could compare to the endearment in his heart when he witnessed Sarah explode with joy.

"The game ain't going nowhere, baby girl. We still got time." Joel said over his shoulder as he locked the door.

Sarah groaned loudly, exasperated, seeing her dad taking the whole time in the world as if he were doing it intentionally. Her shoulders slumped forward, the AVFC scarf around her neck swaying slightly at both ends to her movement. With keys dangling in his hand, he opened the passenger door for Sarah, and she side-eyed him before climbing into her seat, complaining under her breath. Joel sighed heavily, having to deal with her daughter's attitude again.

-----

The Violet Crown Football Stadium was almost packed with thousands of supporters from the home and away teams. Everyone was hyped with the anticipation of the first game, chanting endlessly, as loud as they could. The setting sun painted the field orange mixed with the green grass, blanketing it with warmth. The smell of summer is swaying to the beat of the surrounding air. Sarah looked around in awe, watching the fans around her cheering for the team. She could not help the smile appearing on her face as she immersed herself in the moment.

They were seated in the suites section, which was where other VIPs, players not in the squad, players' family members, or other relevant individuals were seated. The suites were at the middle level, where the game could be clearly viewed. While Sarah was busy scanning everything around her, Joel was on his phone, talking to Tommy about work.

Even though Joel was supportive of her passion for soccer, he did not take the time to be fully invested in AVFC. He knew the rules of the game and only of her favourite player at the time, Kiara King, the striker for Austin Violet women's team. He supported the team in his own way. Without Sarah's love for soccer, he would not have watched soccer but be indulged in baseball instead. There were underlying emotions and memories stuck deep inside him that he did not want to resurface again whenever soccer came to mind.

"Enough about work; Sarah must be real excited about the game," Tommy said.

"Tell me about it," Joel sighed. "She was rushing me until we got in the stadium today."

Joel turned his head to look at Sarah, whose eyes were sparkling with admiration as she watched the players walk out of the tunnel. The whole stadium roared with claps and howling cheers. It was getting harder to hear Tommy through the phone, with the loud noises filling the stadium.

"I know you don't follow the team that much but they signed a new player at the end of the summer break," Tommy updated him with the news.

"Oh, really?" Joel said in a disinterested voice as he looked down on the field. Due to the distance, he could not see the players' faces.

The display screen started to show each player of the home team while the announcer introduced them one by one, starting with the goalkeeper and slowly progressing to the attackers. The stadium erupted with cheers for each of the players that had been introduced.

"You won't believe who their new signing is," Tommy's voice sounded distorted in Joel's ear.

"I'll call you back later! I cannot hear you right now! The game is starting already. Bye!" Joel shouted into his phone before ending the call without waiting for Tommy's response.

Sarah stood in her seat, jumping up and down, shouting excitedly with the rest of the supporters while Joel stared at her lovingly. The announcer started to announce the midfielders and the name he had long forgotten blasted through the stadium speakers, catching his attention back to the screen and confirming his doubts.

There you were, waving to the crowd that welcomed you with big arms and a smile on your face. The smile that played a significant role in his childhood was now back in town. He was confused with the longing he did not expect to feel as he looked at you, guilt on his face. Suddenly, the noises around the stadium died down—muffled in his ears—the long lost memories with you that he continuously tried to lock away flooded his head. He could not erase the image of you, eyes brimming with tears as you turned to leave him 12 years ago. Out of his life. Now, you were back to haunt him.

"Dad! Look! She's wearing my number!" Sarah shook him out of his thoughts, pointing at your jersey number—20–the same as her birthdate.

What kind of a sick game is the universe playing with him, seeing the coincidence of you wearing Sarah's favourite number on your back.

-----

23 years ago, your family moved from Dallas to Austin due to your father's job, and moving into a new home brought you a lot of emotions. You were excited to live somewhere new but also sad to be unable to be with your friends anymore.

It was the first day of school. You were sitting at your table, waiting for someone to sit beside you as your table partner. The kids in the class looked wary as they came in, not knowing what to expect for the first day. A few kids had reddish eyes because they were crying and were not emotionally ready for 1st grade. You were not one of them.

Your father had already trained you to be tough from the get-go. He was teaching you soccer right when you started learning to walk. Little did you know, he did it to live his dream through yours. He was the definition of tough love. He did not go easy on you during his home training. Sometimes, losing his patience, hurling insults and hitting you, but you took everything like a champ because if not, the anger in him would be thrown toward your mom.

Growing up, you witnessed the treatment that your mom got from him. You got in between them most of the time, wrapping your body around your mom to protect her, but what can a small and frail kid like you could do compared to the tall and big figure of your father?

"Hi! I'm Joel. What's your name?"

A voice beside you brought your mind back to the classroom. You turned your head to find a boy with a smile that could light the whole classroom brighter than it already was. His hand is out towards you, expecting a handshake.

"Hi, Joel." You replied, taking his hand as you gave him your name.

"That's a pretty name," he said, his dimples on display as he smiled, which rendered you speechless. Your heart stopped for a beat at that moment, and it felt very strange because it was the first time you had felt that way, especially by a boy.

"Thank you." You thanked him with a shy smile sent his way.

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. He followed you everywhere you went, and you did not mind him at all, enjoying his company. He talked to you about everything, be it his favourite TV show, his favourite animal, or even his embarrassing moments. He was not afraid to tell you about his grandma, who was taking care of him and his baby brother once his mom left after their dad's death the previous year.

You saw his forlorn eyes as he told you the story. You empathised with the amount of hurt in his voice as you listened. In return, you confided in him about your parents. About how strict your father was towards you and how it pained you to see your mother's suffering, not being able to stand up for herself.

You were surprised when he pressed himself against you, arms circling your body. He was hugging you, and you learned that it was his way of comforting not just you but himself as well.

The two of you bonded through the traumas and the amount of time you spent together during and after school. Although, most days after school, you couldn't play with him and the other neighbourhood kids due to your father's intense training sessions, he always filled you in on the things you missed. He always welcomed you like no other kid does. He did not judge you because of the circumstances that you were living in.

Even though he lived at the other end of the street, he would cycle past your house just to see how your training was going in your front yard. Your father had noticed him cycling past a couple of times, but he did not say a word; he only sent his hardened glares towards Joel, which the brave 7-year-old did not cower away from.

There were times when you got distracted by Joel, which resulted in you receiving harsh punishments for not focusing on your training. Tears formed in your eyes from the pain in your body whilst you carried on with the punishments, but that didn't stop you from secretly waving at Joel as he passed by, smiling at you.

On days without training, you joined Joel and the other kids cycling and exploring the neighbourhood. Not afraid to get dirty, you found yourself rolling around in the grass field as you looked at the boys who were playing fights or flying kites. Joel never left your side—always making sure you were taken care of, not wanting you to get in trouble with your father if you got injured while messing around.

Sometimes, he can be too much about the little things—constantly wiping dirt off your face and other parts of your body as if you are not used to it, trying to carry you when you were perfectly fine with walking, or even worse, covering your ears whenever the boys said a bad word which didn't even come close to what you have already heard from your father. You were an independent kid, so you were annoyed when Joel started to treat you like a baby, but you didn't call him out on it, knowing that was just his big brother instincts.

You shared everything about school with your mom whenever you reached home. It was the only time you could comfortably talk with her without Dad's presence in the house. She would coo when you told her about the things Joel did for you, finding it sweet that there's a kind boy out there taking care of you. You complained to her about how Joel was treating you like a baby, thinking she would take your side, but you found her laughing softly at your annoyance.

"I like Joel. He sounds like a good friend, " your mom said softly, caressing your head.

"He is." You nodded your head, looking at her with your big round eyes.

"I'm happy you found a good friend, bubba." She kisses the crown of your head, lips lingering there for a while.

"He found me first, mama." You innocently corrected her, and she just smiled to herself, hugging you tight.

-----

— June 2024 —

Players were lined up in the tunnel, getting ready to get out to the field for the match. According to the positions you play, you were standing in the middle of your team's line, shaking your limbs to rid the nerves away. Each player was allocated a child mascot to walk to the field. There was a girl around the height of your chest, standing beside you. You noticed her staring at you with admiration in her big, round eyes. You instinctively smiled as you bent down to meet her eyes.

"Hi! What's your name?" you asked her in a higher-pitched voice, similar to that you used when talking to kids.

"Sarah," She meekly replied with a bashful smile, still maintaining eye contact with you.

Her smile reminded you of someone, but you could not put a face on it. You ignored the thoughts of her looking familiar to you for some reason.

"Is this your first time being a mascot?"

"Yes," Biting her lip out of being scared.

"You don't have to be nervous, okay? You got me." You reassured her, seeing how nervous she looked.

She nodded her head slowly, trusting you with your words.

"I like your hair, Sarah. It's pretty." Pointing at her space buns as you compliment her, trying to distract her from her overwhelming feelings.

"Thank you. My dad helped me with it." Her eyes widened. She tilted her head towards you to show the work of art her father had created.

"Your dad?! Wow! He did a pretty good job." Your smile grew wider, and you adored how she was bragging about it.

The image of your father crept up in your mind. You cannot help but compare your father to hers. From just hearing that Sarah's father did her hair, you knew that he must be a wonderful dad to her. He definitely adores her so much, even to master the hairstyles for his daughter.

Meanwhile, your father was still psychologically and emotionally abusing you at 30. You were glad to be able to make it to pro, leaving the house, away from his grasp. He will call you after every game—whether your team loses or wins—he will criticise your mistakes. Not once has he said that he was happy and proud of you despite your achievements. After some time, you don't even expect or want to hear that from him. There were times you purposefully ignored his calls, but a few hours later, your mom would be calling as she sobbed, begging you to just listen to what he had to say.

After you left Austin at 18, you told your mom that you would do whatever it took to let her be free from your father. However, she insisted that she loved him too much and could not bear to leave him alone, knowing he would suffer from the fallout. You get that he is the love of her life, but it hurts so much to see the relationship infested with so much toxicity that she thinks it's better to hold on to it instead of letting go.

"Does your dad do your hair, too?" Sarah pointed at your hair, which you had braided.

"No, I did it myself. Is it nice?" You let her touch your hair as you answered her.

"It's so beautiful!" She adoringly exclaimed.

"Aw, thank you!"

You heard the shuffling of the players at the front of the line, starting to move out of the tunnel.

You held out your hand for Sarah to take. "Are you ready to make your dad proud?" You raised your eyebrows expectantly.

She nodded her head vigorously, moving along by your side. The cheering slowly got louder as you walked out, and when you finally stepped into the field, you felt Sarah's hand gripping you tighter. You placed your other hand on hers, caging her hand between both of yours to let her know that you were there with her. You know it's not easy for a kid to walk out to a full stadium that is overwhelming with shouting and cheering.

Eventually, everyone was lined up perfectly, side by side, facing the cameras. The children were standing in front of the players, and you placed your hands on Sarah's shoulders, ensuring she was okay. You noticed her looking up towards the suites section when you followed her gaze. She was probably looking at her father, you thought. However, there were so many faces everywhere that you could not search for and focus on just one person. Hell, you did not even know what her father looked like.

After shaking hands with the opponent team, Sarah and the other kids had to return to the tunnel. Before she went off, she turned to hug you.

"Thank you!" she said while her cheek was pressed in your chest. Her eyes closed as she embraced the moment. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, swaying her from side to side.

"Well, aren't you our lucky charm? Just watch because we're gonna win this game for sure."

She grinned from ear to ear, slowly letting go of you. Ugh, it's annoying that she looked so much like someone you know, but you don't know who exactly it was.

"See you around, you lil angel" You pinched her cheeks before returning to your starting position.

Sarah must have been your lucky charm because your team won that game. Since then, she has always been in your mind whenever you stand in the tunnel before a game. She had quite an impact on you. You never figured out why she looked familiar to you until the day you met her again.

-----

Joel and Sarah were walking hand in hand through the hospital corridor, the unmistakable sterile scent present in the space weighing heavily on their shoulders. The floor was quieter than usual—visiting hours were finishing in a few hours. Sarah was still in her soccer fit from earlier training while her bag was swaying along on Joel's shoulder. Trudging into the wardroom at the end of the hall, Joel let go of Sarah's hand, who ran inside as soon as she saw her great grandma, Nana.

"Nana!" She shouted, rushing towards the bed.

"Look who it is! My bunny!" Nana excitedly opened her arms, waiting for Sarah's hug.

They stayed embracing each other for a period of time—Sarah pressed her cheek on Nana's shoulder while Nana slowly stroked the back of Sarah's head. Joel witnessed the moment that had been a usual occurrence for him recently.

The first time when he got the call from Tommy on the day Nana was admitted to the hospital, he had almost forgotten how to breathe. His stomach plummeted to the ground-hearing the trembling in Tommy's voice saying Nana could have died if he had been late to come back home from work. He did not know how he got to the hospital with Sarah when his head was clouded with worry. He carried Sarah on his back when they got out of the car and went inside as fast as possible.

It was as if someone had ripped his heart out and left him to bleed out alone when his gaze landed on Nana's lying form on the bed with tubes sticking to her body. Nana was his grandma who literally raised both of the Miller brothers—single-handedly—after her daughter left them in her care. So, to see the person who was very dear to him go through something that horrible—heart failure—altered something deep in him for a while.

It had been a week since she was admitted, and Joel was still processing that. This was the second time she had to go to the hospital because her condition seemed to worsen over time. He knew he had to prepare for the worst scenario sooner or later, but he was still in denial about it all—he didn't want to let go of his constant. In a way, he didn't want to face his abandonment issues from the women in his life—his mom, you and Talia.

"How are you, Nana?"

"Never been better." Nana gave Sarah a cheeky wink.

"I saw you on TV yesterday. I'm so proud of you, bunny." Nana leaned in to kiss Sarah on the crown of her head.

"Did you see her? She was standing with me." Sarah was elated to share her experience as a child mascot with you.

"I did! Did you talk to her?" Nana asked.

"She was so nice, Nana. I like her. I think she's my favourite player now." Sarah's eyes were dreamy as she gushed about you to her great-grandma.

"C'mon now, you change your favourite player every month." Nana's voice was flat as she rolled her eyes jokingly at Sarah

"No I don't," Sarah argued, lying through her teeth. Nana was speaking the truth. Sarah changed her favourite player almost every month according to her mood, but this time it was different. To be physically in the presence of the team and the good impression that you made on her struck a chord in her to choose you as her number one player no matter what.

"Whatever you say, bunny."

Joel was already sitting beside the bed, listening to his daughter talk about his childhood best friend. For the past 12 years, he had reflected on what had happened throughout high school. It was a terrible experience for him when he looked back on it—chasing popularity, peer pressure, toxic masculinity, and, for the worst part, leaving you alone in your misery when you needed him the most. His apology was long overdue, and he thought he had already lost the chance to speak to you until you returned.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Nana lowered her voice, which made Sarah lean in slightly, curious about the secret. "I've met her as a kid before." This fact made Sarah part her lips in shock, and her eyebrows shot up fast to her forehead.

"Really?" Sarah's voice was barely louder than a whisper while she stared at Nana.

"Nana—"Joel spoke for the first time to interrupt Nana. He was slightly afraid to let his past and current life crash, not knowing how to handle it if it came to light.

"She is a friend of your father." Nana ignored his warning and continued to tell Sarah the facts about the past.

"She is? You didn't tell me." Sarah swiftly turned around to Joel, furrowing her brows, feeling slightly betrayed that her father had known you personally all this while and kept it a secret.

Joel gave Nana an annoyed look, disappointed that she told Sarah about his connection with you. His jaw tensed before he opened his mouth to explain himself.

"That was a long time ago. We are not friends anymore." That was the best he could say, and he could tell from Nana's expression that she was disappointed in him as she recalled the time she had heard what had happened to you.

"What happened?" Sarah questioned him, paying full attention to him, hearing the story for the first time.

"She left Austin to play professional soccer, and we didn't talk anymore." He shrugged his shoulders as he explained to Sarah in the simplest terms. If it was laid out on the table, the truth was that he fucked up. He did not want Sarah to know that because he wouldn't be able to handle his daughter's disappointment in him.

"Was she a nice person back then, too?" Her big round eyes were still lit with curiosity as she learned new facts about her favourite player.

Joel reminisced about the time he spent knowing you with a longing look in his face. His eyes looked out the window by the bed, absentmindedly, as your face came into his mind, hitting him with all kinds of emotions. Your petite hands were in his as the two of you walked together after school, the soft glow on your face from the warm sunlight and your hair flowing tenderly with the breeze.

"She was," he whispered. A slight curl on one side of his mouth appeared that was not unnoticed by Nana. She had been holding on to the hope that the both of you would make amends someday, and it warmed her heart that the time had finally come closer for it. She missed you a lot. You were like her granddaughter that she never had, not like her mischievous grandsons that gave her headaches. You brought a different kind of joy to her life, and when you told her that you had to leave, both of you were crying in each other's arms. She knew she did not have much time left in this world, and she hoped it wouldn’t be too late to see you again.

-----

— July 2024 —

"You know the drill, right? Just interact with the kids. Watch how they play, give them some advice, and remember to smile. The cameras will follow you around during the shoot." The team's social media manager, Emma, briefed you again as you came into the facility centre to prepare yourself for the shoot.

Filming with kids has always been your favourite. It allows you to stay in touch with your roots and serves as a reminder that there are kids who look up to you, so you have to always set a good example for them.

"I heard that their parents are here too?" You looked at Emma for confirmation.

"Yes. They are sitting in the stands. It will be a surprise appearance for them as well. After the filming, you will take pictures with the players and their families. Got it?"

"Okay, got it."

You got mic'd up while the filming crew settled everything else. Once they were set, you moved quietly to the training field where the young academy players were having a small match amongst themselves. It stroked a sense of nostalgia in you, seeing them running and kicking with their little limbs. Your heart warmed with the memories of you being in a young girl's team, dreaming of being a soccer star.

You heard some murmuring when you walked past the stands where the parents were, but your focus was fixed on the young players. Walking faster as you neared the sideline, one of the girls spotted you and squealed, causing them to stop their actions.

You continued walking towards where the coaches were standing, trying to hide the excitement on your face.

Some of them gasped, covering their mouths, not believing that the first team player had come to watch them.

"Come on, girls! Keep playing!" You clapped your hands, signalling to them to continue playing.

They looked at each other with smiles still stuck on their faces as they slowly moved their bodies again.

You shook hands with the academy team coaches and manager, who were also glad to see you. They talked to you about the players and the drills they went through, so you got the gist of how they ran things. You did a quick scan of all the players, and one of them stood up to you. That player was Sarah. It had been a few weeks since you met her, and you thought about her more than you know. You were enamoured by her innocence that you don't experience in your daily adult life. Wearing the same hairstyle, the blurry mystery face you cannot put together to match her face appeared in your head.

Sarah was playing as the right winger. You were impressed with her movements, especially for someone that young. Both of her feet were well balanced; one leg was not significantly stronger than the other, which meant that she had more of an advantage in her dribbling skills. Her focus on the ball once she got the ball controlled was unwavering, and she was not afraid to take her chances at shooting. You saw the massive potential of a player in her and hoped to see her grow as time went by.

As the game continued, you tried your best to watch the other girls, but your eyes followed Sarah. Compared to the rest, she was significantly versatile—being able to defend as well as her attacking skills. Unbeknownst to you, she was slowly gaining your heart even though you had only met her once.

After the game ended, the girls sat together for debriefing; exhaustion was evident on their faces flushed, strands of hair sticking to their sweaty faces, and eyes fixed on the grass below them. The team's manager and coaches said a few words before letting you take the stage. When it was your turn, the girls turned their heads to you as if they forgot you were there momentarily. Having their full attention, you started talking.

"What do y'all feel about the game?" You asked them.

"Bad." One of the players in the front spoke up, and you later found out that her name was Ellie.

"Why do you feel that way?" You raised an eyebrow at her, not expecting the quick acknowledgement of your question.

"Because Sarah overtook me a few times, and that means I sucked at defending today." Her eyebrows furrowed as she explained—displeased with her own mistakes.

"We all make mistakes sometimes; of course, we feel disappointed when they happen. Even a professional player—like me—makes them. But the mistake is what make us strive to be better. We reflect on it and improve from there." You explained to all of them.

"And the fact that you are aware of your own mistakes tells me that you are one step closer to being a better player than you were before." You smiled reassuringly to Ellie, liking her boldness in speaking her mind.

It's ironic that when you were around their age, you were very critical of your own performance—beating yourself up over something so small because you knew your father would never let it go. You never come around to look at things positively until you meet the other professional players—who became your good friends—during your career.

"Now, tell me what you did good in the game?" You squatted down to be at the same eye level as Ellie.

Ellie opened her mouth but closed it instantly, unable to think of an answer. Her eyes darting around, away from making eye contact with you.

"You've had a couple of good long passes to the forwards, and your tackling form is pretty great,"

"Really?" She said softly—not believing what you said.

"Absolutely! Why would I lie?" Cocking your head to the side, with one brow raised.

Her cheeks raised slightly, tugging the corners of her mouth into a small smile that she tried to hide from you.

You spent another 20 minutes answering the girls' questions—how you first started soccer, how you recovered from your bad injury, and even what boots you wore for your games. You took a group photo together before they dispersed to their parents, waiting for you to take pictures with each family.

You were already halfway done with the team when you spotted Sarah among those in the queue, and you noticed two men standing by her, but it was a quick glance before you were able to take a long look at their faces. The line of players you were taking photos with kept moving slowly as you took your time to get to know each of them properly.

Once you said goodbye to one of the girls, you saw a small figure rushing towards you in the corner of your eyes. As soon as you turned back around, you felt a pair of arms encasing your waist. You looked down and recognised the same space buns that Sarah had when she was one of the child mascots. She looked up at you, chin resting on your stomach while she portrayed a big grin. You cannot help the adoration that came into view on your face while you hugged her back.

"Hi, lil angel!"

"You remember me!" She looked with a mix of surprise and joy on her face.

"How could I forget our lucky charm with this pretty face?" Sarah stared at you with her big, round eyes sparkling with so much admiration that you almost felt guilty for being the subject of that look.

Her grip on you loosened when she turned around, gesturing for-you assumed-her family members to come closer.

"Come and say hi!" She moved away from you to let the two men near you.

Maybe it's the athlete in you that made your eyes move towards their physique first. You noticed they were both almost the same height, taller than you by a couple of inches. Their toned muscles, which were on display for you, seemed to be earned from hard labour instead of the gym. Catching you, scanning their bodies, one of them cleared their throat, making you shift your focus towards him.

He looked way younger than you—clean-shaven with curly, medium-length hair, passing his ears. You sensed that he had an easygoing and friendly demeanour when he introduced himself.

"Hey, how r' ya?" He sounded nervous but still was able to confidently reach out to shake your hand, with an unexplainable look on his face.

You returned the handshake with, "Hi, nice to meet you." You cocked your head slightly to the side, sensing the weird awkwardness coming from him.

You pulled back and looked at him for a moment before glancing at the other man who was standing beside him. You had to do a double take when your gaze landed on that man for a few seconds longer. Your heart suddenly picked up its speed from the recognition. Unexpectedly, a face vaguely reminiscent of your time back in Austin was here.

Joel fucking Miller—the reason for your happiness in Austin, but he was also the one that injected bitterness in your heart in the last few years in it.

His face was different than the one you tried to erase 12 years ago, to no avail; you didn't succeed. Time clearly had worn out his face a little bit—the clean-shaven face back then had been filled with scruffy facial hair, creases on the forehead, and noticeable crow's feet by his eyes. Even so, it only enhanced his features to be more attractive than he already was before.

Joel could not maintain eye contact with you like he used to. You noticed his tensed jaw and darting eyes towards everywhere else except you. He seemed like he wanted to hide in a hole somewhere. Seeing him not in the slightest bit happy to see you again stung you a little. You could not blame him for how he was acting, knowing how bad things were left between you.

You had long moved past it after going to therapy. As time went by, you saw things from a different perspective, in a more mature way, to understand his position at the time. You took the fact that you won't see him again and did your own healing by trying to forgive him for his immaturity back in the day on your own terms since you were not able to talk openly with him.

Now, he was standing before you, and somehow, you felt relieved to see him after all those years.

"Do you recognise me?" The younger man asked you, giving an expectant smile as he waited for you.

You turned your head back to him, still speechless from seeing Joel. He could only be that one person.

"Tommy?" You asked with one brow raised at him.

"Oh! I thought you wouldn't remember my name!" His jaw dropped, and he slowly crept up to a broad smile, a result of the fact that you remembered his name. His hands were rested on his chest from the shock.

"Of course, I remember you. It just took me awhile to recognise you because you look different," you looked at him up and down. "Look at you! You're taller than me now." You gestured at him with your palms opened, waving your hands over his grown body.

"More handsome now, am I right?" He struck a pose, hands bending upwards to point at himself with both thumbs. He sneaked a wink at you, making you jog down memory lane, remembering how his brother winked at you during your younger days.

You huffed a laugh at his boldness, "I see that you never change." You smirked at Tommy, who had just shrugged his shoulders at your remark.

Your ears perked up when you heard Sarah giggling as she watched your interaction with Tommy. For a moment, you had totally forgotten where and what you were doing while talking with Tommy. You glanced at Sarah briefly before looking at Tommy again.

"She's your daughter?" You asked Tommy.

"Ew, no." Sarah scrunched her face in a disgusted way at Tommy. Tommy rolled his eyes at Sarah; you could tell they had a slight sibling-like relationship. From the realisation of their age, you knew that Sarah could not have been Tommy's daughter.

"This is my dad!" She told you proudly as she slid her hand into Joel's.

Your eyes slowly moved up to see Joel staring at you with an unreadable gaze. You used to be able to tell what he was thinking just by looking at him, but the time apart had faded your ability to do so.

You did not know that he had a daughter. You wouldn't have known because you had cut off contact with him and the people who had wronged you after you left. After a few years, when you had moved on with the past, you were tempted to know how he was doing, but you did not bother to do anything about it, afraid of what feelings might come to the surface.

You wondered who Sarah's mom was, and guessing her age, you assumed that Talia might have been the one. Talia was the cause of your nightmare in high school. Thinking about what she did always made your blood simmer with hatred. You could forgive Joel, but Talia was that mean bitch that would take you so much longer to make peace with. With Sarah coming around, you assumed that Joel must have made her his wife, and it almost made the food that was processed in your stomach come back up your throat.

"I-I didn't know that," you tried to hide your surprise but the way your voice strained at the start was obvious to anyone. Your eyes went back and forth between him and Sarah. Finally, you could see the unmistakable similarities between them as they stood side by side.

You squatted down in front of Sarah, gazing up at her with newfound adoration. "So you're a Miller, huh?" A soft smile on your face as you stated the information that you had just learned.

"Sarah Miller," she nodded her head.

"Well, I should have asked for your last name. You looked so familiar when I saw you that time," you tilted your head as you slowly traced her face with your eyes.

"I did?" She looked up at Joel for a few seconds, and you followed her gaze. Joel was standing still, eyes darting between you and Sarah.

"I'm way prettier, though." She blurted out after turning back to you.

You involuntarily snorted, hearing her comparison with Joel. "Of course you are," you beamed at her confidence which she definitely did not inherit from her dad, "but you both have the same distracting smile."

"What does that mean?" She furrowed her brows.

"It means that you have a beautiful smile, just like your dad when he was your age." You gently poked her cheeks with your index fingers, which made her smile.

Both of you were smiling to each other when Emma reminded you to quickly take the pictures. You stood up and held your hand out at Sarah, who gladly took it to follow you, standing in front of the camera.

"Okay, what serious pose do you wanna do?"

Sarah crossed her arms without hesitation and puffed out her chest as best she could. She lifted her chin up, pursing her lips with knitted brows to seem fierce. You smirked at her actions, finding her adorable, before striking the same pose beside her.

The second one was a fun pose. She had you piggyback her, and the two of you were laughing as the photographer caught the moment. Your eyes flicked at Joel and Tommy, who were looking on behind the photographer. Joel was staring at you with a forlorn look, which you did not miss before he tensed up when he caught you looking at him.

"Good. Now, with the family." The photographer said, turning to Joel and Tommy.

The Miller brothers stepped forward to stand beside you, one on each side. Sarah was standing in front of you with your hands on her shoulders. Your heart started to beat faster as Joel came near you. He put a certain distance between you both when he stood beside you.

"Closer, please." The photographer gestured with one hand at Joel and ordered him to stand closer towards you.

Joel reluctantly took a step closer, which resulted in his arm brushing against yours. That made you stand still as you felt tingles running up your arms to your neck. Sarah turned her head slightly from the instinctive tightening grip of your hands on her shoulders. You relaxed your hands in a flash when you realised that you could have hurt her.

"One, two, three!" The photographer raised his voice slightly, and you heard the camera clicking away. He stopped and lowered the camera, not satisfied with your expression.

"You gotta smile," He portrayed his own smile, looking at you and Joel.

You turned your head to glance at Joel, and you saw him looking at you from the corner of his eyes when he noticed your movement. In an instant, you looked back at the front to see that the photographer was ready to continue taking photos. This time, you smiled without fail.

Once it was done, Sarah turned around to say goodbye. You bent down slightly with open arms, and she gladly reached around you to snuggle against your chest. With warmth enveloping your heart, you closed your eyes and rested your chin on her head, taking in the sweet moment with her.

Tommy looked at both of you with eyes representing relief. He remembered you fondly because he regarded you as his older sister. You had come over to the house often to play with him and, oftentimes, look after him when Joel was not around. Unlike his older brother, you were gentle and kind to him. He was 11 when you left, and it broke his heart that his caring older sister was moving away. He blamed Joel for it for a while and showed resentment towards him. He heard rumours about what had happened from the kids in the neighbourhood who went to the same high school as you and Joel. He didn't know the truth of it all until he was grown enough to learn about the whole story from Joel.

Tommy took a peek at Joel, who was standing beside you. He could tell that Joel had missed you too, even though he had not said it out loud for the past 12 years. He did not have to because with one look in his eyes, Tommy could feel his longing. He knew that his brother still felt guilty about what had happened, but all that he wanted was that the both of you could make up for it because he missed his family before the emotional hurricane happened.

You cleared your throat from the awkwardness after Sarah held her dad's hand again.

"So, y'all heading straight home after this?" You tried to find the courage to look at Joel, who was already staring at you but failed to do so, finding comfort in Tommy instead.

"We're going to the hospital to visit Nana," Sarah blurted out which made you snapped your head towards her with a frown on your face.

"Sarah—"Joel quickly

"Nana is in the hospital?" Your voice was high-pitched when you took in the new information. You were still frowning when you shifted your gaze to Joel.

"You don't need to worry about it." Joel tried to dismiss it, but you were obviously not satisfied with his answer.

"What happened to Nana?" You took a step closer to him, which caused him to instinctively move a step away from you.

"Nothing." He avoided looking at you and gripped Sarah's hand tighter, pulling her away to escape. You stood there, watching him leave.

Tommy hesitated to move as he witnessed what had just happened. He touched the side of your arms to lessen your worry. Then, reaching into his pocket, he took out a folded piece of paper and handed it to you.

"There's my number in there, so feel free to call anytime. You can ask me about anything, and I will try my best to answer it. I miss you, sis. It's great to see you again." Teary-eyed, Tommy opened his arms slightly, wanting to hug you after 12 long years.

You welcomed him by wrapping his neck with your arms, tip-toeing slightly from his height. His grip around you was tight as he swayed you from side to side.

"I miss you too, baby boy," you whispered in his ears, tears lingering on the edge of your eyes.

"I'm not a baby," he argued with an annoyed tone, just like when he was younger, fighting that he was just a boy and not a baby.

"You're still a baby to me." You pulled back with a tight-lipped smile, not wanting to cry, while you looked at his 24-year-old face.

Tommy let you go and returned to a mischievous look, "Call me, okay?" You nodded. "I'll see you around." He winked before jogging away to catch up with his brother and niece.

next part

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