#haven't thought of it besides in passing in years

[hatethysinner]

Okay, I have read No Ordinary Love and the Papa Remmick headcanons and my heart is just. swooning. at the idea of Remmick holding up his black daughter (His! The huband who walked could lay down a ditch! Maybe Remmick did it...) and letting her explore his vampiric features without any shame or fear. 🥹 Could there be a drabble where Remmick plays with his kid and realizes his baby is totally unafraid of his eyes and teeth and hands?

ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ

ᴡᴄ: 1.7k

ᴀ/ɴ: this is an official add-on to no ordinary love, so make sure to read that first if you haven't already <3! i am not shamed to admit i sobbed while writing this. i haven't revisited this little universe in almost a month and experiencing it all over again turned me into mush. plus, i needed a break from the nonstop smut. THANK YOU ANON!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: the sweetest softest domestic!papa!remmick fluff you'll ever read, memories of abandonment, lingering grief, light religious mentions, highly unrealistic public displays of affection in 1930s mississippi but i refuse to let my little family be sad

Three years had passed.

Three summers. Three winters. Three birthdays, each marked with a small cake and a quiet kiss on the forehead, candles flickering in the soft breath of dusk.

Three years of Remmick’s comforting omnipresence.

You hadn’t asked for him to stay that long. You hadn’t said the words. But you hadn’t needed to.

He stayed.

He stayed like the porch swing stayed. Like the old kettle on the stove. Like the sun that found its way through the lace curtains every morning, slow and warm and dependable. You woke with the shape of his presence already etched into the day—his boots left by the door, the scent of cedarwood and wildflowers, the rhythm of his humming from the backyard as he chopped firewood or stirred the oats or fed the hens.

The house didn’t feel big anymore.

Not empty.

Not abandoned.

Just lived in. Loved in.

And when you thought of your husband now—when some old church friend asked about him, or you caught sight of a man in town with shoulders like his—you found your mind jumping first to Remmick.

His hands. His voice. His quiet way of watching over the two of you like it was the only job he’d ever wanted

You didn’t forget the man who left you. Not entirely.

But when you reached for memories of a man in your kitchen, stirring soup, tucking a blanket around your shoulders, kissing the top of your head while you dried the baby’s hair with a towel, it wasn’t your husband who came to mind.

It was Remmick.

The ache had softened with time. The jagged part dulled to something manageable. But it was still strange, sometimes, to think how easily your life had reshaped itself around him. Not like clay molded under pressure—but like vines growing toward sunlight. Quiet. Natural. Irrevocable.

He didn’t replace what you lost.

He became what was missing.

And the baby—your baby—loved him with the certainty only children could have. Fierce and boundless and instinctive. She called him “Papa” now, no prompting, no correction. Just Papa. Like that’s who he’d always been.

Remmick hadn’t corrected her either.

Not once.

You’d seen the way his breath caught the first time she said it. The way his whole body stilled. Then softened. His face crumpled for a second like it was too much. Like it hurt to be loved like that.

But he hadn’t told her no.

He’d just scooped her up, kissed her cheek, and said, “Yeah, baby girl. I’m here.”

And he always was.

There wasn’t a scraped knee he hadn’t knelt beside. A nightmare he hadn’t banished with a murmur and a rocking chair. When her first fever hit, you found him sitting beside the bed, hand lightly pressed to her forehead like he could draw the sickness out by sheer force of will. He hadn’t left the room for two days. You had to coax him into sleep with your own hand on his back, your own head rested against his shoulder until he finally gave in.

Sometimes you’d catch them talking.

Deep in their own little world.

Her on his lap, chattering about fairies and frogs and what she wanted to be when she grew up. Him nodding along, eyes wide, responding like it was the most serious conversation of his life.

“D’ya think I could be a bird, Papa?” she’d asked once, and he hadn’t laughed.

He’d just said, “Sure, sugar. If y’ever turn into one, I’ll build you a nest.”

It didn’t matter what she asked. Remmick always found an answer that made her believe it was possible.

And she believed in him.

In the way he always knew when she needed a nap. The way he caught her when she tumbled down the porch steps, faster than you could blink. The way he crouched beside her now, in the long grass at the edge of the garden, his lean arms open wide as she toddled toward him on wobbly legs, shrieking with joy.

You stood on the back porch, hip leaned against the frame, mug warm in your hands.

Watched them.

The sun had dipped beneath the trees, but the sky still held the last sigh of daylight—long streaks of orange and violet curling over the rooftops, fading like bruises. The light wasn’t gone, just gentled, and everything it touched looked softer for it. The grass gleamed gold at the edges. The white sheets strung on the line were touched with lilac. And the porch, where you stood with your mug cooling in your hands, felt like a pocket of stillness the rest of the world had forgotten.

Down in the yard, Remmick crouched beneath the old oak, half in shadow, half bathed in amber. His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, collar open, hair mussed from her hands. He looked as he always did at this hour—unshaven, glowing faintly with the last color of the sun, and so completely fixed on her that he seemed unaware of anything else.

Your daughter was a whirl of energy in front of him. Her little arms flung wide, knees smudged with grass and dust, curls bouncing with every step. She’d sweated through the back of her cotton dress, little ringlets damp at the nape of her neck, and still she ran.

“Catch me, Papa!” she yelled again, laughter already bubbling up behind the words.

And he did.

Of course he did.

He always would.

He caught her clean and high, like it was nothing, like she was light as air. He spun her until the hem of her dress flared like a bell and her feet kicked at the purple-streaked sky. Her laughter spilled into the yard, sharp and bright and holy.

You smiled without meaning to.

But it wasn’t the joy that cinched tight around your chest. Not really.

It was what came after.

The way she slowed. Settled. Reached up with both hands and cupped his face like she was holding something breakable.

“Show me,” she whispered.

You couldn’t hear the words, but you knew them by now. She asked nearly every evening. Quiet. Curious. Never afraid.

Remmick hesitated, as he always did.

Then he smiled.

Not the modest, half-there smile he gave normally. Not the polite one he wore in town.

This one was full. Unapologetic.

Canines and all.

He opened his mouth wider, like a magician revealing the final piece of a trick. His teeth shone white in the dying light, longer than human, sharper than any father’s had a right to be. And his eyes—sea blue most of the time—flared with something warmer, something unnameable. A faint red shimmer, soft at the edges, like the glint of sunlight on water.

Your daughter didn’t flinch.

She never had.

She just leaned forward and tapped the tip of one fang, tilting her head like she was inspecting a seashell.

Then she giggled.

And kissed his cheek.

And Remmick—Remmick went still in that way he did when something mattered too much to speak on. Like his whole body braced to keep from shattering under the weight of it.

He closed his eyes.

Exhaled.

Then gathered her close.

Held her like she was the only thing tethering him to the world.

And maybe she was.

Her arms wrapped tight around his neck. Her little fingers curled into the back of his shirt. Her cheek pressed to his temple like she’d done it a hundred times before—which, of course, she had. Her skin, a deep brown kissed golden by the day, stood out against his pale hands. His thumbs rubbed circles on her back, and in the fading light, their contrast was clearer than ever.

Her soft black curls coiled close to her scalp. His hair hanging in faint waves. Her round cheeks and wide nose pressed against his sharp profile. They looked nothing alike. Not even close.

But no one watching them would’ve questioned that she was his.

And Remmick—he never saw the difference.

Because it didn’t exist to him at all.

Not when neighbors stared too long. Not when townsfolk stumbled over their words at the sight of him carrying her through the general store.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t explain.

Didn’t offer any correction when she shouted “Papa!” across the field with both arms raised.

She was simply his.

That was the start and end of it.

The world could gawk all it liked. Could whisper. Could blink hard at the white man with blue eyes and the little black girl who clung to him like gravity. Remmick didn’t care. He never had. Not about that.

He always chose her.

Every single day.

She’d never known anything else. Never had to unlearn fear or flinch from fangs. He’d been her safety from the moment he stepped into that house—quiet hands, steady voice, eyes that glowed but never glared.

She didn’t see a monster when she looked at him.

She saw warmth. And patience. And stories told by candlelight.

She saw Papa.

And that was all.

You leaned your shoulder against the doorframe, cradling your mug like a second heartbeat, and watched as he set her down gently in the grass.

She ran to collect her toys, then circled back to show them to him, one by one. He listened intently, nodding, asking questions, holding each worn figure like it was made of glass. The red shimmer in his eyes hadn’t faded. It never did fully around her.

She was the only one who brought it out so easily, so softly.

The night began to deepen, the orange bleeding to navy, the violets dimming to shadow. Crickets stirred in the brush, and fireflies blinked alive along the fence posts.

Still, you didn’t move.

Just watched them.

Your two miracles.

One born from your body. One who stumbled to your doorstep and never left.

They didn’t match.

Not by the eye.

But they fit.

Perfectly.

And as your daughter threw herself back into Remmick’s arms with another squeal, and he caught her like he’d been born to do it, you let the last of the day fade away.

Right here, where your heart was fullest.

Right here, where the hollowness had been filled not with noise or company, but with love—so quiet and consuming it could only be called home.

[rutadales]

people who participate in hate-fandoms need to get an actual hobby I'm so serious 😭 not to be a hater but for the love of God log off. genuinely humiliating to be spending that much time caring about something that makes you so miserable that is ultimately so meaningless

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument pt.3

pt.1 pt.2 character: Caleb note: not proofread. haven't played the game since he came out so he might be a little oc

Caleb’s mind is simple: you being away from him means he can’t protect you from any possible danger. He is overprotective to the point it disturbs you and sometimes you think if it was up to him he would tie you to his side so you never leave his sight. Because you’re the safest by his side right?

Considering his possessive nature towards you, you can imagine the intensity of arguments between you two. The problem is, he doesn’t see how he’s wrong. You’re a professional hunter? You’ve lived for years without him? You’re one of the best at your dangerous job? falls on deaf ears and right now you’re so so close to strangling him. Instead, you turn around and go to your bedroom to get a blanket and pillow, because sleeping beside this obstinate asshole is the last thing you want tonight. after a minute you can sense Caleb’s presence. He yawns as he leans against the doorframe

“Whatcha doin’ pipsqueak?” His question is playful

“Oh, I’m pipsqueak again”

Caleb laughs at your sarcastic answer which earns your glare, making him mumble “Still mad I see” under his breath. Silently, you wonder if he is bothered by the argument at all. You gather everything in your arms and walk to the door and as you pass him he grabs your shoulder from behind and drapes himself over you.

“A little bit dramatic don’t you think?”

“You’re heavy, you asshole”

You grumble as you try to shrug him off but he won’t budge. Quite the opposite actually, his arms are wrapped around your shoulders tightly with his face in your neck.

“Can’t handle it? I thought you were a strong girl.”

“Do you, really? Because you act like I’m made of glass”

“Well, not glass. More like-”

You try to smack him but he moves his head to avoid it and laughs, instead catching your wrist and placing a kiss on your pulse point. Even though the gesture makes you blush, you snatch your hand back and accidentally hit his metal arm, causing you to hiss at the pain. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow as if saying ‘See?’ which makes you more furious.

He starts to say something but you interrupt.

“Let me go, Caleb. I’m mad at you and don’t want to sleep in the same bed as you”

“No”

“No?”

“Gotta keep you away from your thoughts, pipsqueak. What if you decide you want to leave me or something because of this stupid argument, hm? What then?”

You fall silent for a moment because you need to get this straight. So, he thinks that after he ‘died’ and you mourned him, thinking about him almost every day, years later you find out that he’s alive and is doing everything to keep you close, you will leave him because of an argument? Now, you doubt his sanity. On the other hand, Caleb takes your silence as a bad sign and starts panicking.

“Pipsqueak? Come to bed, please. And we can do whatever you want tomorrow. I’m yours the whole day- Hey, I’ll make braised chicken wings. You still love them right? Or whatever you want, you name it…” When he gets no answer, he drops his head on your shoulder, giving up “Okay, if you really don’t wanna sleep beside me, I’ll take the couch, just, please sleep in the bedroom.”

Finally, you sigh and lean your head against his chest.

“You won’t drop this, will you?”

He smirks because he knows you. He knows you want to give into him but your pride won’t let you. So you try to blame him. Make it look like, you don’t have a choice, so you don’t feel bad about yourself. But he’ll take it. He’ll take all the blame and allegation if it means you’ll stay with him.

“Not a chance” his voice is muffled against your neck as he pecks it, before removing himself from you and leading you back to your bedroom.

“I don’t think you’re made of glass,” he tells you when you’re both lying down on the bed and you place your head on his chest, in return, he wraps his arms around you.

“Hm?” you’re confused before you remember your earlier statement

“I don’t think you’re weak. The opposite actually, I think you’re very strong I just… I worry about you, I can’t help it. So what if you’re one of the best hunters? you’re not immortal. And when I think that there’s even the slightest chance that I might lose you again… I won’t be able to take it. So all this overprotective act is also for the sake of my sanity.” He laughs humourlessly in the end.

You raise your head to look at him. He’s already watching you with adoration behind his purple eyes. You brush the strands of hair from his forehead and place a kiss on his lips.

“I won’t leave you” You kiss the corner of his mouth “You’re crazy if you think leaving you has even crossed my mind. Now that I have you back? You’re stuck with me as much as I am with you”

There’s a faint smile on his lips as his eyes run over your face.

“Goodnight, pipsqueak"

“Goodnight, Caleb”

You both fall silent as you lay back down on his chest. However, the silence is broken by you.

“You’re making braised chicken wings for me, tomorrow”

“Absolutely” he agrees with a silent chuckle.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

charles getting his four year daughter leo and leo is cutest puppy but someone even looks at her and the puppy is growling at everyone, leo lays on her protectively and won’t let her sleep alone, charles always finds them together

Leo, the bodyguard

Charles loved his daughter more than anything in this world.

Nothing brought him more joy than hearing her sweet laughter echo through their home or feeling her tiny arms wrap around his neck in an excited hug. At four years old, Yn was his entire universe, and Charles would do absolutely anything to make her happy.

So, when she had a bad dream, he immediately rushed to her side, brushing her tears away and whispering sweet reassurances until she fell asleep again. When she was hungry, he never hesitated to cook her favorite meals, even if it meant burning pancakes a few times before getting them just right. And when she had a wish? Well, Charles did everything in his power to make it come true.

And for the past three weeks, Yn had wished for one thing and one thing only.

"Papa, I want a puppy," she had said, her big, bright eyes shimmering with hope.

Charles had smiled at her request the first time she mentioned it, thinking it was just a passing thought. But when she brought it up again the next day, and the day after that, and every day after for three weeks, he realized this wasn't just a fleeting wish—this was a dream.

And if there was one thing Charles couldn’t resist, it was his daughter’s dreams.

Which is how he found himself standing in their living room one sunny afternoon, holding a small, wriggling bundle of golden fur in his arms. The tiny dachshund puppy tilted its head curiously, its long ears flopping as it let out a soft yawn.

"Yn!" Charles called, trying to keep his excitement in check. "Come here, ma chérie. I have a surprise for you."

It only took a second before the rapid sound of tiny feet echoed through the hallway. Yn came dashing into the room, her pink dress fluttering as her curls bounced with every step.

"A surprise?" she asked eagerly, her face lighting up.

Charles knelt down, revealing the little dog in his arms. "Meet Leo," he said softly, watching her expression carefully.

For a moment, Yn just stood there, her mouth slightly open in shock. And then, with a squeal of pure joy, she threw her arms around both the puppy and her papa. "A puppy! You got me a puppy!" she cried, her voice filled with wonder.

Charles laughed, the sound warm and full of love. "I promised I'd always listen to your wishes, didn't I?"

Yn pulled back, cradling the tiny dog against her chest like the most precious treasure. "He's so cute, Papa," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "I love him."

Leo, as if sensing her affection, licked her cheek softly before snuggling closer to her. Charles couldn't help but smile at the sight—his daughter holding her new best friend, her face glowing with delight.

From that day on, Leo became Yn's constant companion. Whether she was playing with her toys, drawing pictures at the kitchen table, or snuggled up on the couch watching cartoons, Leo was always right beside her. And Charles, despite having expected chaos from adding a puppy to the mix, found himself utterly charmed by the tiny dog.

It didn't take long for Charles to realize one very important thing: Leo was fiercely protective of Yn.

It first became obvious when a few of Charles' friends came over one afternoon. The house buzzed with laughter and conversation as the drivers settled into the living room, chatting about the upcoming season.

"Where's your little shadow?" Max asked, leaning back against the couch with an easy grin. "I haven't seen her all day."

Charles chuckled. "She's in the playroom with Leo. Probably making him wear another tutu."

Just as he spoke, Yn emerged, her small form half-hidden behind the doorway. True to Charles' words, Leo followed close behind, his tiny body nestled in her arms and wearing a sparkly pink bow around his neck.

"Papa, look!" Yn giggled, holding Leo up proudly. "He's a princess now."

Daniel let out a loud laugh, clapping his hands together. "I think Leo's the most patient dog in the world."

But as soon as the drivers shifted closer to get a better look, Leo stiffened. His little ears perked up, and with a low, rumbling growl, he flattened himself protectively against Yn's lap.

The sound wasn’t exactly menacing—coming from such a tiny dog, it was more amusing than anything else—but it caught everyone off guard.

"Is he… growling at us?" Carlos asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"I think he is," Pierre grinned, leaning forward slightly, only to be met with another determined growl.

Yn just giggled, stroking Leo's head gently. "He doesn't like when people come too close," she explained matter-of-factly, as if her little dog protecting her from a group of grown men was the most normal thing in the world.

Charles shook his head fondly, though he couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath. "Leo takes his job very seriously," he said, pride and affection mingling in his voice.

"Well, I wouldn’t want to mess with him," Max joked, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "He clearly runs this house."

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of warmth and laughter, with Leo remaining firmly planted on Yn's lap, keeping a watchful eye on anyone who came too close. Even when Daniel tried to tempt him away with a treat, the tiny dog refused to budge.

Later that night, after the guests had left and the house was quiet once more, Charles tiptoed down the hallway to check on Yn before heading to bed. The door to her room was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open gently, peeking inside.

There, nestled beneath a mountain of soft blankets, was his little girl, her face relaxed and peaceful in sleep. And right beside her, curled protectively against her chest, was Leo.

The tiny dog blinked sleepily at Charles as if acknowledging his presence before burrowing deeper into Yn's embrace. Charles felt his heart swell with warmth, the sight filling him with an indescribable sense of peace.

Quietly, he stepped back, closing the door with a soft click.

He knew, without a doubt, that no matter what, Leo would always be there to protect his daughter. And in that knowledge, Charles found a deep, abiding comfort.

Because if there was anyone in the world who deserved to have every wish come true, it was his sweet, precious Yn.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading my work. Mt requests are always open for you!

-💙🦋

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter thirteen

⭐︎ Then this heart would break and fall as twice as far

Warnings: hurt/no comfort? not here, sorry y'all. angst. injuries, mentions of death, blood, gore, not gonna spoil anymore

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Hope has always been a downfall hasn't it? This time it tears you apart completely.

Word count: 15k

Author's note: I'm cackling as I'm typing this, you guys have no idea what is about to hit you. The next few chapters are gonna be filled with so much evil shit. Someone go and pray for Dingus. @hellfire--cult we're at our favorite part now hehe

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

A miserable expression is lingering on Eddie’s face. He barely keeps his eyes open as he gets hit by waves of nausea every thirty seconds or so. He keeps an arm around his waist as his left elbow rests on the table. He is blinking, staring at you in confusion and awe. You drank more than him, even continued after he passed out, and yet you seem fine, more cheerful than ever. 

Your mouth is moving quickly, and you are waving around with your hands as you ramble about one thing after another. Eddie’s mind can’t even catch up, he is too hungover for this, which is surprising considering he never dealt with those, but the lack of alcohol in the past year, especially in that capacity, turned him into a wuss – at least that’s how he feels about himself watching you. 

You were the first one up, even, filling the generator with gas, just enough for everyone to have a warm shower. You cooked coffee and oatmeal with the supplies from the RV, and now you are sitting here, hair still wet from the shower, a new sweater, and a look of happiness and excitement on your face. 

Eddie thinks that it’s refreshing to see you this way, especially after the difficult days that you had, but his mind just can’t comprehend how you can feel so fine while he is suffering from the amount of whiskey he had last night. 

“How…?” He mumbles, cutting you off mid sentence. 

“Hmm?” You tilt your head to the side. 

“How can you feel so fine… You hadn’t had any alcohol in months, and you drank more than I did… How are you not hungover?” 

You shrug and bring your cup of coffee up to your lips, taking a sip. 

“I’m not a lightweight like you.” 

Eddie snorts at your words, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m not a lightweight usually, besides I had some a few weeks back and I felt fine…”

“Maybe that stuff was too hard for you.” 

Eddie frowns at your words and he shakes his head, “nope.”

“Take another shot and you will feel fine.” 

Eddie’s lips curl up in disgust, and he stares at you, bewildered. 

“I swear!” You exclaim, leaning forward. “My dad used to do barbecues a lot and he invited all his old buddies from High School and one time when they came over I was dealing with a major hangover cause I got drunk the night before for the first time ever… my dad got really mad at me – not the point of the story but his friend, this russian guy told me to take a shot of hard liquor, he said that it’s an instant cure… the thought made me wanna throw up but I tried it and guess what…? It helped!” 

Eddie looks at you like you have gone crazy. He slowly reaches for the coffee you have made him and takes a sip. 

“Yeah, uh… that’s crazy.” 

“But it helps!” 

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head, “I believe you, but god, that thought makes me want to throw up.” 

“I know, I know, but you should try it.” 

Silence fills the room for a moment. You lean back in your chair and look out the window, watching the snow fall just as it did the night before. The wind is still heavy and you know that you might have to stay here for another day or two. 

Eddie sips on his coffee, he keeps watching you, taking in the excitement that keeps flashing in your eyes, the way your lips twitch, wanting to curl into a smile. 

“What’s got you so hyper this morning?” Eddie finally asks. 

You look back at him and you press your lips together, looking around the empty room and out into the hallway to make sure that nobody is coming but Steve must still be in the shower, and Nancy is getting the RV ready. 

Only as you lean forward again and you wrap both hands around your mug, does he notice the slight nervousness. You are tapping against the porcelain, taking a deep breath as you lean closer. 

“I’m gonna kiss Steve.” 

Eddie forgets the nausea he was dealing with just now. He furrows his eyebrows as confusion hits him. 

“Hang on… wait…. you two didn’t kiss last night?” He murmurs, tilting his chin down as he stares at you with wide eyes. 

“Um no…” You shake your head, blushing under his gaze. 

“...But you two flirted all night…”

Your confidence slips away a little as you think about the previous night and how he hadn’t kissed you. You wanted him to, but he didn’t. There have been a few moments when you thought he would. 

“Do you think that maybe I shouldn’t…?” 

Eddie shakes his head wildly, his curls bouncing at the movement. 

“No! You should! Holy fuck, you should!” He almost yells.

You start shushing him, waving your hand at him as your cheeks heat up, “keep it down!” 

“Sorry, sorry!” He winces as he sinks back into his chair. “But I… I think you absolutely should kiss him. I just thought that he’d finally make the move, you know? I saw the way he acted around you last night.” 

The excitement returns in your eyes, he sees it in the way they light up, and the color in them lights up. You straighten up in your seat, your cheeks flushing as you smile. 

“Nothing happened at all?” Eddie whispers, tilting his head to the side. 

You shake your head. Your hair falls in front of your face as you look down. Your heart flutters in your chest as you think of the way he lifted you up to get the cowboy hat or the way he placed it on your head later, how he took your pictures, and how he held you when you lied in bed. You woke up on top of him this morning, his arms wrapped around your waist strongly, snuggling you. 

“No, nothing happened…” 

A smirk appears on Eddie’s lips when he notices just how flustered you are. Something did happen, he knows it, but you won’t tell him, not now at least, because he walks in. His hair is wet, his beard shaved off now, a spitcurl hanging in front of his eye. He is wearing a flannel, a pair of new jeans, and boots he got from the closet. 

Your lips part as you look him up and down, eyes glued to him. His cheeks are a little flushed when his eyes meet yours. He offers you a smile and even a wink, “Sunshine.” He greets you, tipping his head down even though he isn’t wearing the hat. 

“M-Morning.” You smile, huffing under your breath when Eddie kicks you under the table. 

“Morning, Eddie.” Steve greets him next before he walks over to the kitchen counter, reaching for a mug, he pours himself some coffee. 

“Good morning, Cowboy.” Eddie grins, completely forgetting about his hangover as he looks between you and him. “So uh… Nancy is getting the RV ready, but I don’t think that the storm will pass anytime soon.” 

Steve nods as he turns around to face you both. He leans against the counter and takes a sip of his coffee. He takes a moment to look at you, and his stomach flutters when all the pictures from the previous night start flashing in his mind. 

“Hmm.” He hums as he turns to look out the window. ��It’s safer to stay here for another day or two.” 

“I think so too.” You nod, trying not to stare at him, but it’s hard not to when he looks this good. His skin looks smoother, although you did like the beard and the subtle mustache he was sporting, but he looks so handsome like this too, clean shaven. He left the buttons at the top of his new flannel unbuttoned. You swallow as you take him in. You wish you could just say ‘fuck it’ and kiss him but this is not the moment, not here, not now. 

“We can get some wood later to make some fire, there’s a shed in the backyard, I’m pretty sure we will find some there.” Steve says, looking at you, his eyes connecting with yours. “You and I, Sunshine.” 

Oh, so he wants to be alone with you too. 

Hope awakens inside of you when he walks towards you and picks out the seat beside you. He flashes you a smile and for a split second, his eyes flicker down to your lips. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, and your heart flutters yet again. 

What if he has the same plans? 

Your eyelashes flutter, and your lips curl into a smile. 

Eddie snorts at your silent interaction, eyes moving back and forth between you two. The moment you both turn to look at him, he covers it up with a cough. 

"Oh, damn." He coughs, patting his chest. “That sip was too big,” he fakes a laugh and looks away, trying to hold back his smirk but failing miserably. 

“Why don’t you go take a shower, Munson?” 

Eddie looks back at Steve, holding his hand to his chest, offended. “Are you saying I smell bad?” 

Steve shakes his head, “No, but the shower is pure luxury, who knows when you’ll get that chance again.” He shrugs. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows, smirking as he looks into his eyes teasingly. 

Steve only shakes his head in response and looks down into his mug. 

“Alright, hot shower here I come.” Eddie chuckles as he gets up. He grabs his coffee and winks at you before he walks away, humming. 

“He was just complaining about his hangover, and now he is humming.” You mumble, confused. 

Steve chuckles as he turns towards you. He ignores the fluttering in his body, that electrifying pull he feels towards you, but it’s hard, even harder when you look into his eyes, when you are this close, when he smells your sweet scent, when he remembers how it felt to touch your bare skin. 

“That’s how he is.” Steve chuckles, his eyes lingering on your lips for a tad too long. 

“Yeah…” You whisper, noticing the way he looks at you. 

Your hope continues to rise, to build up, to spread inside of you.

Friends don’t look at each other like that, right? 

Friends don’t stare at each other’s lips. 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, reaching for your hand. “You’re not hungover, are you?”

You shake your head, looking at him dumbly. You curl your fingers around his hand, holding his. “No… no I’m not, I feel fine… good. And you?”

Steve squeezes your hand back as he lifts his mug to his lips with the other. He gives you a soft smile, “Yeah, I feel good too.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head at him, your lip curling into a smile.

His breath hitches in his throat. The way you are smiling at him, the way your eyes move across his face, like you are memorizing his features. No one’s ever looked at him like that, and it makes him nervous. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, letting go of your hand, he lifts it up to your face and tucks the loose strand of hair behind your ear before he brushes his knuckles against your cheek, his thumb lingering over the developing scar on your cheekbone. “I had fun last night.”

You lean into his touch. The happiness is trembling inside of you, his touch and his words only fueling your hope. 

“I did too,” you whisper, smiling. 

The tension between you both is just as strong as it was the night before. He looks at you just as he did the night before, nothing changed, except your heart beats even stronger now. 

You look at his lips, wondering if now would be the right time to try, wondering if you can just lean in and do it, but before you can dwell on it any longer, the door opens and Nancy walks in. 

“Hey.” She mumbles, shutting the door, and she rubs her hands together. “I was in the garage, not even outside, but it’s cold as hell out there!” She exclaims and tears her jacket off before she turns to look at you. Her eyes widen when she notices Steve beside you, close beside you. She looks between you both, eying his hand on your cheek, the flustered look on your face, the flustered look on his face. She bites the insides of her cheeks, trying not to smirk. She saw how you both acted around each other last night, how often Steve’s hand landed on your lap, how you kept biting your lip looking at him like you were ready to risk it all, how he kept looking at you like he was about to rip your clothes off and show you what you have missed. 

Nancy doesn’t know how far you have gone last night after her and Eddie passed out in the living room, but by the tension between you, she knows that something must have happened.

Steve pulls his hand away slowly, and you reach for your mug, bringing it up to your lips. You take a sip as you look outside. 

Her blue eyes flash with mischief. She clears her throat and looks at Steve, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you were about to have your breakfast, Steve.” 

Steve’s eyes widen, and his jaw falls slack at her comment. In all those years he has known her, she has never ever made any jokes or comments like these. If anything, she was always way too serious to even laugh at dirty jokes made by others. 

You start choking beside him, blushing furiously at her words. 

“Nancy!” Steve glares at her before he turns to you, patting your back softly. 

“I’m sorry,” Nancy chuckles, flashing you an apologetic smile when you calm down again. “Didn’t think you would choke so soon.”

Steve sees the way your eyes widen, the way you flip around, staring at her in disbelief, but the girl only hums to herself as she pours herself a coffee. 

Steve closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, shaking his head. 

“Can’t believe Munson is rubbing off on you, Wheeler.” 

Her shoulders shake as she laughs. She turns to face you both, smirking again when she sees how Steve is still rubbing your back. 

“Do you two want me to leave or…?” She points between you two, her eyes glinting as they lock with yours. 

A sigh falls from your lips, and you shake your head at her.

“Nope.” 

Steve stops rubbing your back but he doesn’t remove his hand, his palm slips down to your lower back and you aren’t even sure if he realizes that he did it because he starts talking to Nancy about the weather and about the change of your plans while keeping his hand on you like it’s the most normal thing. He did it last night as well, when you were all sitting in a circle and he was chatting to Eddie, keeping his hand on your knee or your thigh. 

You try to focus on the conversation, but it’s difficult when his touch sends jolts through your body, overwhelming your poor heart and heating up your skin under the layer of clothes. He keeps fueling your hope, pushing you towards the decision you made last night. 

You don’t know how much time passes while you sit there with his hand on your lower back. You don’t even know how much information you have missed on the change of plans they have decided on. 

But when he calls your name two times or so, he pulls you out of your little stupor, making you look at him. 

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, staring at him with burning cheeks. 

“I asked if you wanna go get the wood now?” Steve repeats his question that went over your head. He finds it endearing the way you look at him, eyes big and filled with confusion. “Think it’s best if we do it as soon as we can. The storm might get worse later.” 

“Oh.” You nod, licking your lips as you place your mug down. You avoid Nancy’s eyes, who is staring at you with a smug look on her face. “Yeah. I’m just gonna grab my jacket–”

“I got it.” Steve says, squeezing your shoulder when he gets up from his seat. “Finish your coffee.” 

“O-Okay.” You murmur, giving him a soft smile. 

Steve nods at you, smiling back at you. He leaves the room, leaving you alone with Nancy who is tapping against her mug impatiently. 

“So–”

“Nothing happened!” You whisper before she can even finish her sentence. You lean closer to her, finally looking at her. “Nothing happened last night, we drank more, took pictures with the polaroid camera we found, and then we talked and went to sleep.”

You see the disappointment flashing in her features. Her shoulders slump, and a pout appears on her lips. She leans back in her chair and sighs, “And here I thought he grew some balls, but hey, maybe he was just being a gentleman and didn’t want to make a move because you were drunk!” She shrugs with one shoulder, offering a supportive smile. “I kinda thought something happened though… with the way he acted around you just now…”

Your stomach flutters. He did act differently, more touchy than usual. You liked it, a lot. 

You breathe in and open your mouth to speak, but you quickly close it again when he walks back in, holding both your and his jacket in his hands. 

“Here.” 

You grab your jacket and get up, pushing the chair back into place. You put your jacket on and pull the hood over your head to protect your wet hair. 

“Be careful out there.” Nancy mumbles, looking out the window. 

“We’re just heading down to the shed, it’s like ten steps away.” You chuckle. 

“Still.” She shrugs. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll come back in one piece.” You smile at her, giving a small wave as she gives a thumbs up for good luck.

Once you and Steve are ready to go, you grab your gear and step out into the cold. He shuts the door behind you both. Shivers run down his spine instantly as the cold bites his skin. 

“Holy shit.” He murmurs as he turns around to face the backyard. He squints his eyes when the harsh wind hits him. 

“It’s so cold.” You murmur as you look around. You can barely see anything through the fog and the falling snow. All the trees are white, layer and layers of snow cover the ground you are about to step in. “I think we should have waited with the shower.”

Steve chuckles as he glances down at you. 

“Come on, let’s get this over with.” He reaches for your hand, taking hold of it with a squeeze. 

“Yes, please.” You whisper as you welcome his warm touch in this freezing cold. 

The snow crunches beneath your boots as you both start making your way down to the shed. You look around, making sure that nothing will sneak up on you while you are busy struggling with the cold, but the gated property seems as safe as it did the night before. The gate looks untouched, the wooded area around it looking empty as well, no sign of any unwanted visitors, no footsteps in the snow. 

“Goddamn,” Steve curses under his breath as the icy snow hits his cheeks. “I hate winter.” 

“Yeah, me too.” You nod, sniffling as your nose starts running from the cold. You sigh in relief when you make it to the door of the shed.

Steve pulls out the bundle of keys from his pocket, he found it in one of the drawers in the kitchen. “Alright, let’s figure out which one it is.” He murmurs as he flips through the keys. 

You cover his back, keeping your hand on your gun holster while he tries to unlock the door. 

A little ‘yes’ falls from his lips when it clicks open. 

“Come on, let’s get inside.” He reaches for your hand again, leading you into the shed, he steps in after you. 

It’s not much warmer in here, but at least the walls keep the wind away. You breathe heavily and rub your arms, looking around the darkened shed. Light seeps through the gaps on the ceiling, allowing you to see. 

“Bingo!” Steve snaps his fingers, smiling in triumph as he gestures to the wood in the corner. “See, I knew they kept their wood here.” 

You follow him, pushing the hood of your jacket off slowly. You bite your trembling lip as you keep your eyes on him, watching the way he brushes his hand through his hair before he reaches for the plastic cover on top of the firewood stack.

“Come on,” he looks over his shoulder, flashing you a smile that makes your insides tingle and your knees weak. 

Your heart skips a beat when you realize that this could be the moment. You’re alone with him and you don’t know when you will get that chance again, especially now that you are stuck in this house for another day or two. 

“Maybe we can make a fire for us in the bedroom; that fireplace should be used as well.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat, and heat rushes through you when he indicates that he wants to spend another night in that bed with you. His words from last night echo in your mind, ‘our bed’. 

The bile rises in your throat, and suddenly you feel your heart beating harshly. Your cheeks heat up despite the coldness in the air. You don’t even need any more encouragement, you have made your decision already. 

You never thought that you would even consider that, to try, to make a first move. You were never one to risk anything, let alone anything like this. But you are sure, you are so sure of it, so filled with hope. 

He has to feel the same, right? 

All these signals, all these signs, it can’t be just platonic. 

Even Eddie and Nancy see it, their teasing has to mean something. 

You take a deep breath, and before you can ponder and contemplate, you take a step forward and then another until you are standing next to him. 

His words pushing you to what you’ve wanted to do since last night, you decide to not waste anymore time and just do it now, knowing you might not get him alone again after this. 

“I… I really had fun last night… It’s been a while since I got to feel carefree like that.” You kill the silence between you, bringing back the conversation from the kitchen. 

A smile appears on his face, he takes the plastic cover off and throws it on the ground before he turns to face you, looking down at you. 

“Yeah, me too… and with great company at that.” He murmurs, his voice still raspy so early in the morning.

You bite your lip when his hazel eyes stare into yours. Your heart starts racing, the anticipation mixed with nervousness and vulnerability all crashing over you at once when you take a step closer to him. 

“I had fun spending time like that with you, Steve…” You say, trying not to expose the shakiness in your voice. 

You forget about the cold, not even feeling it on your skin anymore. You don’t hear the howling of the wind anymore either, only the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears. 

Steve notices the different emotions flickering in your eyes, the way your chest starts rising up and down faster, heavier. He senses the change of air, the tension moving into a different direction now. 

“Drunk?” He chuckles nervously when you move closer to him. His lips part, breath getting caught in his throat when you shake your head and reach your hand out to grab his bicep. 

“No… alone.” You whisper, gazing into his eyes now. 

Steve stops breathing, and his heart stops beating too. 

He looks into your eyes, into the eyes he had found so much warmth, so much comfort in. They are shining just for him. Your breathing is heavy, meaning that your heart is racing… just for him. 

He had wondered… He had thought about this so many times, dreamed about it even. His heart beats strongly every time he allows his mind to explore those thoughts. He dreams about how different things would be if you had met in a different world, in one where you would both be safe, in one where he wouldn’t have to fear losing you every second of every goddamn day. 

Things could be different. Things would be different if you weren’t here. 

“What…” He whispers, unable to keep his body from leaning down towards you. 

“I want to spend more time like that with you, Steve…” You whisper, blinking up at him in a way that nearly brings him to his knees when you confess. 

You take in his rosy cheeks, the moles on his skin you want to kiss, that strand of hair that keeps falling in front of his eye that you want to brush back for him so badly. 

With every inch you move towards him, closing the gap between you both, you feel your heart beating stronger, making it feel like it will rip through your bones and your flesh. You close your eyes and you take the leap. 

Steve’s eyes threaten to close when he feels your breath on his lips and your body pressed against his own. Everything he had longed for is in reach. Everything he wanted, you want too. It wasn’t just him. You want it too. You want it. You want him. He feels the brush of your lips against his own, and everything he had already suspected aligns inside of him. Everything inside of him yearned for you, not just his mind, not just his body but his heart and his soul. 

And he wants it so badly. He wants it. But even with the feelings inside of him, with the longing that will burn him alive in the long run, he can’t because this will only make the world a worse place for you both. If you both take this step, if you both give each other your hearts it will only kill you both if something happens to the other. 

So he closes his eyes, going against his own heart, and he softly pushes you away by your shoulders. 

“No, Sunshine.” 

It pains him physically to the point where he can’t even open his eyes to look at you. 

Everything inside of you stops. Your heart. Your lungs. Your mind. Everything. 

“I–I didn’t mean drunk… I meant–” Your voice is shaky, desperate, and yet still hopeful.  

“No, I know what you meant. But it’s not a good idea.” Steve clenches his jaw, hating how much his heart is screaming at him, even more so when he opens his eyes again and looks down at you. 

Your lips are parted, eyes wide and filled with confusion. Not yet registering the pain he had caused. You tilt your head at him. 

“I-I thought…I thought we…” Your voice breaks when he shakes his head at you. The back of your feet touch the ground again, and you take a step back from him, hand falling off his bicep. The back of your eyes start burning as it begins to sink in. The knife in your chest was twisted. 

You misunderstood. You misunderstood again, except this feels worse than anything ever has before because you were so sure. You were so sure. And you misread the lines, you misread everything. 

Steve’s eyes are filled with desperation, and he can’t mask that. He can’t hide that, and if you weren’t so shocked, so hurt, you would see it. 

His heart is aching inside his chest, his stomach is twisting as the fear grips at him, knowing that this just changed everything. 

But it’s for the better. 

It’s for the better for the both of you. 

“No…” He whispers, twisting the knife deeper. “I’m sorry if my actions showed something that wasn’t there.” 

You feel sick. You feel like throwing up. You feel like screaming at yourself for believing, for being so naive again. 

“Oh…” You whisper, unable to look at him, you lower your head and stare at the ground beneath you. “I… okay, I-I understand…” Except that you don’t. You don’t understand because you thought that he gave you all the signs, all the right signals and you thought that you were reading them correctly. It turns out that you didn’t because he never saw you as anything more than a friend while you were slowly falling. 

Steve just stands there, staring at you, watching the way you slowly crumble before him, and it hits him harshly. Guilt, regret, sadness, and anger rush through him, knowing the damage he caused to your heart, knowing that he is responsible for the pain flashing across your face as you wilt before him. 

The urge to grab you, to pull you into his arms, to fix this is so strong, but he can’t, he can’t, and it makes you both ache. 

“I’m sorry…” You whisper. 

You look so small before him, your voice weak and trembling. He broke you. He feels like he broke you, and it tears his heart apart.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out. Nothing will fix this now, nothing. He knows he should tell you the truth but if he does, it will only keep your hopes up so he says nothing and watches with saddened eyes and a pained heart how you turn away from him, your eyes blinking quickly as you reach for the wood, gathering as much as you can carry before you turn around without glancing at him. You walk away from him, and you walk out the door. 

And Steve, he stands there staring at the door you have walked through. He is now left alone with his thoughts, left alone with his aching heart, and it all overwhelms him. He crouches down, clenching his eyes shut as he holds his head tightly. 

“Fuck…” He whispers, pained. 

You don’t feel the snow on your skin, you don’t feel the coldness clinging to your body, you don’t even hear the howling wind as you make your way back towards the house. You don’t even know what you are feeling because you wish this moment wasn’t real, that it didn’t happen, that it was all just a dream. 

But it’s not. 

The door slams shut behind you after you make your way back inside. Your body moves on its own accord, walking into the living room, and you throw the wood down next to the fireplace. 

Your frown deepens as you look down, confused as to where you went off the path, where you had misunderstood. 

Footsteps echo in the hallway, but you don’t register them. 

Eddie comes rushing in, hair wet from the shower he took, a livelier look on his face before. A smile appears on his face when he sees the wood on the ground. He claps his hands together, rubbing his palms, “oh yeah, let’s get some warm stew started with this–” His smile slips when he notices the dissociated look on your face, “Sunshine?” He whispers. 

You snap out of your thoughts and turn to look at him. 

Eddie frowns when he notices the lost look in your eyes. He takes a step closer, worriedly placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“I-I uh… what?”

“Are you alright?” 

You open your mouth but flinch when the door opens and Steve’s footsteps fill the silent hallway. 

Eddie notices the way you duck your head, nodding at his question. 

“Yeah… Yeah.” You mumble softly before you walk away, practically rushing out of the room and up the stairs, leaving him standing in the middle of the room. 

Eddie stares at the doorway for a moment. His eyebrows are furrowed, and the confusion is evident on his face. 

“Huh…?” 

You are not okay. It isn’t hard to figure that out when you were cheerful and excited this morning. He follows you out, walking through the doorway, and he doesn’t even notice Steve standing by the door with a hollow look on his face and glassy eyes when Eddie follows you up the stairs. 

Steve doesn’t even know what to do with himself now, knowing that this just changed everything. He looks down at the wood he carried inside. Blinking away the tears, he doesn’t allow himself to cry. He carries the wood into the living room, dropping it next to where you had placed it. 

It overcomes him suddenly, the anger – the anger towards himself, the anger towards this world, the anger towards you. You did something he wanted to do for so long, but he kept holding back, he kept pulling back because this just can’t happen for so many reasons. He pulled back by making himself believe that you aren’t on the same page as he is, but you are, clearly you are, and now there is no denying left to do anymore, and it angers him. 

Steve clenches his fists as he stares into the fireplace, not yet lit. Irritation sparks in him as the boy inside of him, who once begged for love, is yelling at him; ‘why why why!’ 

He feels it so deeply inside his chest, as though someone is pounding against his ribcage from inside, letting him know that he just made the biggest mistake of his life, that he is gonna feel regret and guilt. 

And he will, it’s close by, all those emotions are waiting right around to corner, waiting for the perfect moment to land the strongest blow to his heart. 

And you, you shut and lock the door in the first room you could find privacy in. You press your back against it and slide down until you are sitting on the floor. You prop your elbows on your knees and close your eyes, taking deep breaths. 

You ignore the pounding on the door and Eddie’s concerned calls; you are too focused on your breathing, on calming down. 

Unwanted tears well up in your eyes. The rejection stings deeply in your chest, spreading like a virus inside of you, infecting your heart and all your organs with a sickening sadness. 

For once in your life, you thought that you could try, that you had a chance, that the hope you felt wasn’t born from silly delusions. You thought there was something. You really thought he wanted you. 

You were so sure that he wanted you. 

But he didn’t, of course he didn’t, how could he? No one ever did; he was no exception. 

A soft sob falls from your lips as the first tear cascades down your cheek. You bring your hand up to your lips, cupping it to muffle your cries as you can no longer hold it in. 

The realization begins to sink in that you have ruined something special, that you didn’t only lose this delusion you had of him, but that you also lost a friend because you couldn’t control your feelings. 

He won’t ever look at you the same again. 

And you won’t either. 

-

The wood crackles in the fireplace, the flames paint the room golden, the wind is still howling outside, no sign of it stopping any time soon. 

There is an awkward silence hanging over the room. Nobody is speaking, Eddie isn’t rambling, Nancy isn’t asking questions, Steve is staring into his bowl, not feeling the appetite to eat at all. And you aren’t there, you haven’t come out of your room since you locked yourself in there after coming back. 

Nancy’s blue eyes move across Steve’s face curiously. His expression is stoic, his jaw is clenched, and if she didn’t look into his pain filled eyes, she would have believed that the old Steve made a comeback. The angry, hateful one he was before you came along. 

It isn’t hard to figure out that something happened between you two because this morning you both looked like you came back from your honeymoon and now you are hauled up in your room while he is glaring at his soup like he is trying to make it explode with his mind. 

Nancy glances at Eddie, who is already looking at her. He knows as much as she does; nothing. He tried to make you talk, he tried knocking on your door a few times, but you kept lying to him, telling him that you had a headache and that you wanted to be alone. 

Nancy tried as well, but she had no luck either. 

And neither of them want to push him, not when he looks like this. 

When the time is right, he will speak up for himself. 

And he does, when he and Eddie are the only ones left awake. The two couches in the living room are occupied by them. Eddie is staring into the small flame in the fireplace, hand behind his head, and the other tapping against his chest. 

Steve is lying on the opposite couch, staring up at the ceiling. He is wide awake, exhaustion somewhere far away. He feels empty and cold without you in his arms. He doesn’t remember the last time he had slept without you. He had become so used to it, it turned into something normal. 

Is this his new normal again?

His eyes burn, and the coil grows in his throat as the sadness spreads inside of him. 

“She wanted to kiss me.”

Eddie freezes at Steve’s words. 

His hand freezes too as he stops tapping. His dark eyes move away from the fire, and he turns to his side to look at the brunette. He doesn’t speak, waiting for him to continue. 

“I pushed her away.” 

Steve’s voice is pained, Eddie can tell that much but it’s confusion that ripples through him. His eyebrows crease together as he pushes himself up on his elbow, staring at him intently. 

“What?” Eddie whispers, shaking his head. “W-Why?” 

Eddie knows how he feels about you, without having talked much about it, he knows. It’s in the way he looks at you, it’s in the way he smiles around you the most, it’s in the way he only allows you to get so close, it’s in all his actions that have to do with you. 

Steve is silent for the longest time, just staring up at the ceiling, blinking. He can’t hide his tears, not when he keeps sniffling as he thinks about you. 

“I don’t understand, Steve–”

“It just can’t happen.” He says bluntly. 

Eddie stares at him, eyebrows still pulled together, lips parted in confusion. His chest aches a little as he thinks about you and how you must have felt when he pushed you away. Guilt sparks inside of him as well because he had encouraged you. 

His eyes saddened, knowing the heartbreak you are feeling now. 

“But you…” Eddie murmurs, not understanding him. 

Steve turns to his side, turning his back on him. 

“It’s better if we stay friends and if we keep our distance.” Steve mumbles, like his own words don’t break his heart more. 

Like that’s possible after everything you have been through. 

Eddie feels a sliver of anger for him, but also pity because something is clearly holding him back. 

“But you can’t… you can’t sleep without each other.” Eddie whispers, knowing that this is the least of the problems, but it is a fact that Steve cannot deny. 

“Well, I have to get used to it, don’t I?” Steve snaps and pulls his blanket closer to his chin, sinking deeper into the couch as the first tear rolls down his cheek and soaks the pillow beneath his head. 

Eddie stares at him for a while, not knowing what else to do or say. All he feels is confusion and sadness for both of you, but especially you. 

A sigh falls from his lips, and he falls back on the couch, staring into the fire again. 

He knows that things are about to get messy. 

At that point, he just didn’t know how messy. 

-

By the time you walk into the kitchen the next morning, Nancy and Eddie have already eaten their breakfast. The latter is flipping through a magazine he found somewhere in the house while she is cleaning her gun. Steve is standing by the window, looking out with one hand on his hip and the other holding a freshly brewed cup of coffee. 

He is standing with his back to you, not yet noticing you. 

Your heart freezes still at the sight of him. You knew he would be here, of course you did, where else would he be? Yet you can’t stop yourself from feeling this way. 

Almost as though his body can sense your presence, his heart starts aching more painfully than before. He knows you are there before he even turns around to look. 

“Morning!” Nancy smiles at you, though it quickly fades when she notices how red your eyes are and how tired you look. 

“Morning, Sunshine.” Eddie says softly, eyes filled with pity as he looks you up and down. 

You braided your hair and showered, you made sure you looked fine, but you can’t hide the hours of tears you have shed, because your eyes are still puffy and red. 

“Morning,” you force a smile, which comes out looking like a grimace. You keep your eyes away from him and make your way over to the pot of coffee; at least the smell of it is welcoming. 

You can feel their eyes on you, Nancy’s confusing stares, and Eddie’s pitiful, sad ones. 

He feels guilty, you know he does. You don’t blame him for anything, though. He was just being a good friend, trying to encourage you to go after something your mind was already set on. 

The steam rises from your mug as you pour the coffee in. 

The silence is almost deafening, and you tense up a little when you feel him watching you too. 

The sadness is still deep inside of you, your chest still aching in pain, but there is also something else now that it all settled in. You feel humiliated and embarrassed and that feels worse somehow because you can’t avoid him. You can’t keep your distance the way you would be able to if the world weren’t like this, but then again, if the world hadn’t changed, you would have never met him, and maybe for the better, even if the thought breaks your heart. 

Nancy opens her mouth as her concerned eyes stay stuck on you, but before she can even ask if you are okay, Eddie kicks her under the table, shaking his head at her with big eyes. 

She presses her lips together, shutting her mouth. Her eyebrows furrow as she reads his eyes. It isn’t difficult to figure it out, especially when she takes a look at Steve who is standing there with tense shoulders and a look of guilt and desperation on his face as he watches you. 

Oh.

“I’m gonna check out the basement, see if they’ve got a secret armory somewhere.” Eddie murmurs, pushing back his chair as he gets up. His eyes are still on Nancy, motioning for her to come with him. 

“Yeah…” Nancy mumbles, eyes flickering back to you. Without even having to see your face, she can sense your sadness. “I’ll go with you.” 

Eddie looks over at Steve before he leaves, trying to make the man come to his senses, to fix this mess. He knows it’s probably too late but he won’t stop, not until Steve pushes his worries aside and goes for what he wants. 

You look down into your mug after pouring some sugar in. You are alone with him now, their footsteps echo down the hallway. You want nothing more than to turn heel and run, you don’t want to have to look at him, you don’t want to talk to him either; you need time. 

Time he won’t give you. 

He starts moving towards you, and you tense with each step that he comes closer. You are frozen in place by the time he is next to you. 

“Sunshine…” 

Steve is looking down at you. The guilt inside of him is eating him alive, seeing the pain etched into your features, the puffy red eyes that indicate the hours you have spent crying last night. His fingers curl into his palms, nails digging into his skin as he fights the urge to pull you into his arms the way he normally would, but he can’t, not now. 

He sees the tears that well up in your eyes because of him.

If only you looked at him, you would see the pain in his hazel eyes. The sadness, the aching, the yearning. 

“I’m–”

“It’s okay, Steve.” You whisper and turn away from him, not wanting him to see the tears in your eyes. “Please just… I need time, okay?”

Time. You need time to move on from him. 

Steve swallows the painful lump in his throat. The thought sickens him even though he knows that this is what’s best for you. 

He should shake his head. He should apologize for being such an idiot. He should tell you what worries him, what is holding him back. He should pull you into his arms. He should hug you. He should hold you. He should…

“Okay.” 

He should’ve. 

The silence becomes too loud when he leaves you standing there alone. 

Everything becomes too loud again. 

-

The days that follow after this are filled with a heavy tension that Eddie nor Nancy can explain. You avoid Steve, you avoid him as much as you can in the cramped up place once you are back inside the RV after four long days in the mansion. 

You steal Eddie’s spot in the passenger seat. He doesn’t mind it, but it is a little obvious, considering you never cared for it before. You want to avoid him at all cost, and everyone notices it, even the man ignored. 

Your cold shoulder begins to frustrate Steve after another two days pass. Almost a week of your silence now and it begins to drive him crazy. All you do is spare him glances, answer with ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to any of his questions. 

You asked for time, and he understands it; he gives it to you, but he starts getting irritated. He feels tired, he feels angry, and the guilt lingers in him when he begins to snap at Eddie and Nancy, sparing you because you don’t even pay attention to him, and that begins to sting. Your cold shoulder hurts, the stoic tone in your voice hurts too, when all he’s used to is your warmth and the smile you greeted him with every morning. 

He is tired, so tired now that you don’t sleep in his arms anymore. Every time he closes his eyes now horrifying pictures flash in his mind, and every time he falls asleep, he wakes up minutes later, plagued by nightmares he hasn’t dealt with in so long. It’s just like before you, except now the nightmares are even worse because it’s not Robin getting ripped away from him anymore, it’s you now. All he can do is watch how you get torn apart while screaming his name,. He is frozen in place every time, watching the life drain from your eyes, but never looking away from him. He wakes up in cold sweat every time, heart pounding and chest heaving, and even though he knows it’s only a nightmare, he still has to get up to check on you.

He wonders if you are on the same page, if you struggle just as much as he does now that you don’t share a bed with him anymore. The tired look in your pretty features tells him that you do. 

The more days pass, the more distance grows between you. You are right there, and yet it feels like you are far away. You refuse to get paired up with him, asking for Nancy or Eddie instead whenever a run into a town is planned. 

He is being punished, he tells himself. 

It’s not you needing time anymore, it’s you punishing him, he is sure of it. That’s what the anger is telling him, at least. 

“I think you should talk to her.” 

Nancy’s voice sounds irritated, her face looks like it too. 

Eddie narrows his eyes at him, getting fed up with the both of you too but especially with Steve, knowing that things could have been different if he hadn’t been such an idiot. 

“Not like she’s gonna talk to me,” Steve murmurs as he runs a hand through his messy hair. “She’s just gonna stare and scoff as always.” 

Nancy rolls her eyes at him. You filled her in on everything, told him how he rejected you, how he told you that he doesn’t feel that way for you. And she would have understood it, if he told the truth, but he lied to you and now he is acting like a dick after tripping over his own mistake. 

“Can’t blame her, you’re an idiot.” She mumbles under her breath as she turns around to check on you. You are sitting on a bench, enjoying the lake view. 

Eddie asked for a break from driving, in need of fresh air and a cigarette. 

“What did you just say?” Steve glares at her, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You heard me.” Nancy challenges him, crossing her arms over her chest as well. Her protectiveness over you fueling her anger towards him. 

“Okay, okay.” Eddie takes one last drag of his cigarette before he throws it into the snow. He takes a step towards Steve, holding both hands out. “Not you two as well now. I’ve got enough of you and her,” he points his fingers to where you are sitting. “I don’t need any more drama, that RV is too small for that.” 

Steve takes a deep breath, opening his mouth to speak, but Eddie shakes his head at him and holds his palm up higher. 

“Nah, I’m speaking. You go and figure this shit out. You go and talk to her even if she doesn’t talk back, just go and fucking talk to her, it’s been a week and I can’t take this shit anymore.” Eddie exclaims, his eyes burning with despair. “I am not leaving until this tension is cut, alright!?”

Steve draws his eyes down, staring at the ground instead. He clenches his jaw and nods. 

“Alright.” He murmurs softly. 

“And you,” Eddie turns around to face Nancy, “you sit your ass down on this camping chair and eat your goddamn oatmeal.” 

Nancy raises her eyebrows at him, huffing as she uncrosses her arms. She takes another moment before she sits down, not without giving him another eye roll. 

Steve takes a deep breath, not even needing any encouragement from Eddie. His frustration is strong and the need to talk to you too. He glances at the metalhead, sighing before he starts walking away from him and towards you. 

He walks down the little hill, careful not to slip on the snow. He glances over his shoulder to see Eddie watching him, and this time he can’t help but roll his eyes. 

You hear the footsteps, the crunching snow beneath boots. You don’t turn around to look who it is but your heart senses him and you instantly tense up, unable to continue enjoying the sun shining down on you. 

Steve stops before you, looking down at you with hints of despair and anger in his hazel eyes. 

“Sunshine.” 

The tone in his voice makes your eyes snap open. You furrow your eyebrows, irritation building up in you already. 

You look up at him, raising your eyebrows in question when you find him glaring at you. 

“What?”

His throat bobs and his eyebrows crease together, lips curling into a frown. It feels so foreign to hear you snapping at him, to see you glaring at him. It makes him feel small and vulnerable, yet also angry. 

“I gave you time, it’s been a week… and we… we still don’t talk.” He starts, voice sounding tense. 

You push yourself up from the bench, standing before him now. 

“I don’t want to talk, Steve.” You mumble, ready to step around him and walk away, but he steps before you, blocking your way. 

The exhaustion in him, the irritation and the anger is only fueled by your words. He is desperate to go back to normal – as if that could ever be. 

“You don’t want to talk to me, is that it?” Steve asks, tilting his head down as he glares into your eyes. “Because I see you talking to them.” He throws his arm up in the direction of the RV. “And you seem fine when you talk to them.” 

You open your mouth but close it again when you can’t find the right words to say. Your throat tightens the longer you look at him. 

Humiliation runs deep inside you; that is the reason why you can’t talk to him, why you can’t even look at him. Because, how embarrassing and pitiful is the thought of him knowing how you feel about him yet not feeling the same? 

You shake your head, taking a deep breath. 

“Steve… That’s different–” 

“Different?” He scoffs and takes another step back, bringing his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it. “I didn’t think that a stupid mistake like this would ruin our friendship.”

Stupid mistake. 

Another blow. Another slap in your face. 

A stupid mistake? 

By now, you know that you got all these signals from him wrong, that you saw something that wasn’t there, that you mistook his affection for something more, something you would never share with just a friend. 

Your shoulders slump as you blink, staring up at him, only now really taking a close look at him, enough to see the tiredness in his eyes, the exhaustion in his features. 

“That’s not fair.” You mumble, frowning at him. 

Steve nods, clenching his jaw as his eyes flash with anger. 

“You’re right, it’s not fair, Sunshine. We’re adults, and you can’t just act like a pouty brat because things didn’t go like you planned! I gave you time, I did as you asked. I want to keep being friends, I want to go back to how things were before because you mean something to me, but you are completely ignoring my feelings, acting childish!” His words are guided by all those negative emotions that boiled up inside of him, caused by the frustrations, the lack of sleep, and the anger that grew within himself. 

You drew back, like you had actually been slapped in the face. Your eyes flash with disbelief. The sadness that spread inside your whole body already was now burning but especially in your eyes. 

Your lips curl downwards, and tears well up in your eyes. You wish you felt anger instead; it would make things easier. 

Steve blinks, seeing clearer now after the anger wore off with the words he just threw at you. He takes a deep, shaky breath. The guilt punches him in his gut when he notices how hurt you look, and he wants nothing more than to slap himself. 

“I– Sunshine, fuck… I-I didn’t…” He pauses when you draw back further after he takes a step forward. 

You nod, blinking rapidly as you try to get rid of the tears in your eyes. 

“I see how you feel about me now…” You whisper, understanding now why he didn’t want you. 

Just like you had once suspected, he would never want someone like you. He made sure you knew beforehand, and yet you still fell. He called you immature before, more than once. And he was right, because maybe if you weren’t such a naive, childish woman, you would have taken a step back a long time ago and seen things for what they were, but instead you relied on your hopes and dreams, the way a child would. 

Steve shakes his head, his hazel eyes flashing with the need to explain, but you aren’t even looking at him anymore. 

“No, Sunshine… Please–”

A bone chilling scream cuts him off, echoing through the trees around you both, followed by a gunshot that you know is loud enough to lure anything close by in. 

“Eddie!” Nancy’s scream leaves shivers running down your spine. 

Your head snaps up, eyes locking with Steve’s in horror. Both of you push the fight aside, forgetting everything for a moment as you both turn around and start running up the hill, back to your friends. You reach for the gun in your holster, clicking the safety off. 

Your heart begins to pound in your chest, ringing in your ear, and tightening your throat as the shots keep going off. This moment reminds you too much of the attack not too long ago, and you aren’t ready, you aren’t ready to kill again. 

But it’s not people being a threat this time, no, it’s monsters, too many at that. The dog-like creatures that Eddie calls demodogs. Nancy keeps reloading her rifle, shooting the ones charging at her as her panicked eyes keep flashing back to Eddie who is swinging the axe around. 

There is so much blood, red blood in the white snow, both from the demodogs and from Eddie. You don’t have the time to look at where his blood is actually coming from because a demodog charges right at Steve, not even giving him the time to react as he reaches for his bat, which he left leaning against the RV. 

You raise your arms up, aiming at the demodogs’ head, taking the shot before it gets the chance to jump at him.

Steve flinches, turning around with wide eyes as he looks down at the twitching demodog at his feet. His eyes meet yours for a brief second, nodding at you. 

“Eddie, watch out!” Nancy screams. 

It all goes too fast, before you can even move, before you can even blink, you watch Eddie getting tackled to the ground, his head crashing against a tree root. 

Steve’s eyes are wide with horror, just like your own. He charges forward, swinging his bat against the demodog, who was ready to turn Eddie into its lunch. 

You start shooting at every demodog charging at you and your friends. The adrenaline kicks off inside of you. 

“Where are they fucking coming from!?” Nancy yells as her rifle clicks empty. You cover her back, aiming at the creatures coming from behind the trees. For the first time, you regret stopping by the forest. You don’t know where to look, where to aim at, too many for your liking, emerging from the woods. 

“Eddie! Eddie, don’t do this, man!” Steve’s desperate voice echoes as he crouches before his friend, who is fighting his consciousness. His eyes were opening and closing. Blood is oozing from his head and his leg. Dead creatures lie around him. 

Your heart drops when you see Steve shaking him, slapping his cheek as he tries to keep him awake.

Your breath gets caught in your throat first, Eddie’s name falling from your lips as you stare in horror. And then… the wind suddenly gets knocked out of you, the gun drops from your hand and into the snow, claws digging through your thick jacket as your body hits the cold ground. 

Your hand falls into the icy snow, your head hitting the harsh ground beneath it. You blink in pain as the world becomes blurry before you for a split second. You breathe in deeply, hand patting the ground in search of the gun that slipped from your hands. 

You hear your name being called. His voice calling out to you. 

And as you come to your senses again, your eyes widen in fear when you see the opening head, charging down at you, ready to feast on your flesh. 

For a split second, you see death welcoming you. The darkness ready to claim you, ready to take you into its cold embrace, to take your soul sooner than it was meant to. 

Everything flashes before your eyes. He flashes before your eyes. 

And then… it’s gone again, just like that. 

You scrunch your eyes shut as the body flies off you, slammed away with the nailed bat. You hear the flesh being teared open, the squelching as the bat repeatedly slams into the body. You open your eyes again, turning to your side as you try to catch your breath, watching Steve kill the creature that attacked you. 

Blood drips from his bat, and he only steps away once the body stops moving. His chest is moving up and down heavily, his dark eyes flashing with concern as he looks back down at you. He steps towards you, eyes moving up and down your body, fear flashing across his face. 

He almost forgets your surroundings, ready to drop to his knees before you and pull you into his arms but Nancy’s scream pulls him back onto the field and you both turn towards her, her rifle aimed at the demodog charging at her as she covers Eddie’s body with her own, but before she can even pull the trigger, a loud shot goes off, taken from a different direction, its head blown off and blood splattered across her jacket now. 

You look around, eyes wide and heart jumping to your throat when you see the men, four of them on horses, heavily armed. 

Nancy looks down at herself, watching wide eyed as the blood runs down her jacket. She glances only briefly at the men, before she drops her rifle on the ground beside her and crawls towards Eddie. 

“Eddie…Eddie!” Her panicked voice echoes. 

You push yourself up, searching for your gun in the snow as your hands begin to shake. The moment oh too familiar, the panic rises inside of you, stinging in your throat as breathing becomes a struggle. 

You find your gun and pick it up, holding it tightly as you step in front of Steve. 

“Sunshine…” He murmurs from behind you, taking a step closer, and he curls his hand around your wrist. His eyes flicker back and forth between his unconscious friend and the men moving closer to all of you, noticing how the demodogs start retreating, running back into the woods. 

“Steve! He is losing blood!” Nancy’s panicked voice finally gets to you. 

You blink, forcing your eyes away from the group moving towards you. You keep your finger on the trigger, ready to shoot if anything goes sideways again. You step over the dead bodies, stepping over the blood as you and Steve rush over to Eddie. 

Concern rushes through you when you take in the sight of him. He is out, unconscious, and barely breathing. Blood is coating his cheek and his ear, oozing from the wound on his head. You forget about the panic inside of you, about the group of strangers coming closer, about everything. Your heart is pounding strongly, and the despair inside of you is growing. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the paralyzing fear takes hold of your body. “Eddie…”

Nancy already tended to the wound on his leg, but she looks a little helpless as she stares at the wound on his head – it’s not that she doesn’t know what to do, it’s the fact that the panic inside of her makes her unable to work. The logical part of her brain is shut off, the emotional part stronger now as she cries for her best friend. Her hands shake terribly as she stares at him, her blue eyes filled with tears as she keeps repeating his name. 

Steve stares down in horror, frozen and paralyzed. The sight before him reminding him too much of the day he lost her. He doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know how to move. 

He wishes it were only one of his nightmares. 

“Hey.” The stranger's voice makes your head snap up, hand holding onto the gun tightly. The man holds his hands up after he gets down from his horse. He takes no step forward yet, trying to show you that he means no harm. His blue eyes move across your little group before they settle on Eddie. “Mind if I take a look? I can help.” 

Nancy looks up before you can say anything. She nods, without even taking a look around first, without making sure that they aren’t bad people, and it only shows you just how desperate she is to save her friend, not caring about the potential danger. 

And you know that you can’t care about it either right now, not when Eddie is bleeding out in the snow. 

The man crouches down before Eddie, eyebrows furrowing as he leans down and carefully picks his head up. 

He eyes the wound, touching around it before he checks for a pulse. “Weak pulse, but it’s there.” He looks up, eyes moving back and forth between Nancy’s panicked ones and Steve’s frozen ones, finally they lock with yours. “He needs medical attention… immediately. He’s got a concussion and an open wound,” he pauses, glancing at Eddie’s leg, at the makeshift bandage around it, blood oozing through it too. “He definitely needs stitches, maybe even surgery.” 

You look back and forth between him and his men who are still on the horses, watching out for any incoming threat.

“We got a little community down the road, we got doctors and all medical supplies necessary–”

“Okay, okay!” Nancy nods, wiping away her tears. “Take us there!” 

Under any other circumstance, she would have never reacted this way, neither would Steve or even you, but you have no choice at this moment. All you can do is get up and take a step back, watching the strangers carry Eddie into the RV after wrapping up his head. 

Nancy follows inside right away, taking a seat beside Eddie. 

Steve is staring at the blood in the snow, Eddie’s blood. He is barely blinking, barely breathing. His body is frozen. 

“Steve!!!” Her voice echoed in his head as if she were there on the floor again, getting dragged, her hand reaching out for him desperately.

Your chest aches, eyes softening as you see the state he is in. The fear of losing another friend set so deeply inside of him. You take a step towards him after putting your gun back into your holster, reaching out to take his hand, “Steve?”

The touch of your hand, the softness in your voice calling out his name, instantly grounds him, pulling him back to here. He blinks as he stares into your eyes. 

“Come on…” You whisper, squeezing his hand. 

He curls his hand around your own, holding on tightly, like he is scared you were gonna let go again. His heart warms at your touch, at the caring look in your eyes. 

“Eddie’s gonna be okay.” You mumble softly. “But we need to go now…”

You try to let go of his hand as you guide him towards the RV, but his grip on your hand only tightens, not letting you let go. 

“Okay.” You whisper, taking one last look around before you step inside the RV, pulling him in with you. 

The man tending to Eddie’s wound, steps away when you walk in. The guy beside him, looking no older than seventeen, gives you a nod before he walks past you and out of the RV. 

“I’ll stay with you, guys. Either of you wanna drive, or do you want me to?” The man who took care of Eddie asks, looking between you both. 

You glance at Steve, who drops the bloody bat on the ground. He fishes out the keys from his pocket, handing them to the man, “you can drive, doesn’t matter anymore.” 

The man gives him a curt nod, understanding what he means by that. He grabs the keys, wasting no time to get into the driver's seat. 

You close the door behind you and lead Steve towards the bench, sitting down with him, you glance at Nancy, who is sitting beside Eddie, holding his hand. 

“I know it ain’t mean much in this world, but I promise we’re good people.” The stranger you have yet to learn the name of speaks. 

Steve nods, not saying anything but squeezing your hand – a silent promise to protect you if it comes down to it. 

For a moment, whatever happened between you two before all this, vanished. You keep holding his hand, and he keeps caressing your knuckles the way he did before, when things were still okay between you. 

Steve’s eyes move back and forth between his friend and you, while you look out the window, preparing for whatever is about to come. 

You shift in your seat, eyes flicking back and forth between the window and the man driving the RV. He has a gun in his holster, a belt around his waist, knives, and an axe secured in it. His clothes are clean, cleaner than those of the people who attacked you on the street. 

You don’t know how long it took you to get there, but it felt like hours, the more you looked at Eddie, just laying there without any movement. Steve’s hand tightens around you, and his back straightens when he sees the gates that keep the community safe from the outer world. 

The man opens the window, waving at the guard on one of the towers who is holding a rifle, looking down at the RV with a skeptical look on his face. 

The sudden crackling noise of a walkie startles you a bit. 

“Open the gate, it’s me.” The man grumbles into his walkie. “Tell Charlie to be ready, we've got a code one.” 

“Copy.” The man on the tower nods, signaling with his arm towards someone standing on the other side of the gate. 

You lean forward as you watch the gate open, you keep holding onto Steve’s hand as the RV starts driving again slowly. Your body is restless, heart pounding in your chest, nerves running high as your eyes take in the sight before you. 

There are guards, four of them, two on each tower, two by the gate. They nod at the driver once the RV passed the gates, all of them are armed with rifles. They all look like military minus the attire. 

As you drive further into the community that looks like a small town, you notice people walking down the street, others standing by a building that looks like an old bakery, chatting and laughing with each other. You see a playground and children playing there, throwing snowballs at each other. 

This place looks like it has been untouched by the outer world – it looks odd compared to what you have seen all these months. 

You and Steve turn to look at each other, your eyes sharing the same emotions. 

Once the RV stops in front of what you assume is the infirmary, you and Steve get up. You let go of his hand, placing it over your gun instead, just in case. 

The man driving the RV, kills the ignition and removes the keys, handing them back to Steve with a nod. 

“I’ll get some help, y’all stay here.” He mumbles before he brushes past Steve and opens the door, leaving it open as he makes his way into the building. 

Your heart is still pounding both in fear for Eddie and in anxiety of being stuck in a place you know nothing about. You just hope that you didn’t walk right into a trap. 

Eddie’s unmoving body makes you feel sick, the thought of losing him crossing your mind when you see just how much blood he has lost. You aren’t sure if and how you would keep going if it happened – let alone how they would keep going. 

Steve can’t even find it in himself to care about the potential danger you are all in. He is staring at Eddie, still frozen in place, hand searching for yours again. You won’t deny or reject him now, you slip your fingers through his and give his hand a squeeze that says ‘I’m here, no matter what, I’m here.’ 

“Howdy.” A man wearing a white coat greets you, clearly the doctor. He offers you a kind smile as he brushes past you and Steve, already having noticed Eddie on the bed. “Let me take a look.”

You and Steve step aside when two other men walk in, carrying a stretcher. 

“Alright, let’s get him inside.” The doctor orders. 

Everything moves quickly after, a blur thanks to the adrenaline and worry. The men carry Eddie outside of the RV and into the infirmary. Nancy follows first, her panicked look never fading. You and Steve follow, his hand still clinging to yours as you step into the unfamiliar place. 

The smell of disinfection hangs heavy in the air. The place looks clean, spotless. You pass by a few rooms, noticing the medical equipment in all of them. 

“You guys can wait here, Aaron will be right with y’all.” The doctor explains, looking mostly at Nancy, who doesn’t want to step away from Eddie. 

She nods, blinking away tears that still linger in her eyes. 

“Here.” The doctor gestures to the chair behind her, “take a seat, I’ll update you in a minute, alright?”

“Alright… Alright.” Nancy murmurs and sits down, breathing shakily. 

The doctor looks up from her, glancing between you both, “you too.”

“Yeah, okay.” You nod at him, assuming that Aaron must be the guy who drove the RV. 

The doctor walks into the room where Eddie was carried into. He closes the door behind him, leaving you all in the quiet hallway. You take a deep breath, noticing how much your heart is still pounding, how much your hands are shaking, even with the touch of his hand. 

You turn to look at him, his eyes are so hollow, and he looks so lost. It hurts to see him like this. 

“Come on,” you whisper as your eyes trace his features. “Let’s sit.” 

Steve nods, agreeing almost robotically. He sits down, and you follow, taking the seat between him and Nancy. You glance at her, your heart clenches in your chest. You reach your hand out and squeeze her forearm. 

She nods at you, trying to smile, but you can see how much she is struggling to, how scared she is. 

You want to assure her, to tell her that he will be alright, but your words are caught in your throat. You don’t know how much time passes as you sit there, but it feels like forever. The clock on the wall across from you is ticking. Nancy is bouncing her knee beside you, unable to find rest. You are on the same page, and Steve is too, but his eyes are frozen, stuck on the ground. 

It seemed as if the people here knew not to offer anything until you all had a bit more trust in them. Maybe waiting for the leader or the head of the community to have a word with you all first, which made sense. 

The door at the end of the hallway opens, making you all straighten your backs. The man who brought you here, Aaron, you assume, steps in. He closes the door and makes his way over to you. 

“Hey guys.” He nods at you all, rubs his hands together, and leans against the wall across from you, crossing his feet. “Charlie’s a good doctor, your friend will be alright.” He starts, assuring you. 

Nobody speaks. No one even knows what to say. 

“Are y’all looking for a place to stay or just passing through?” He asks, looking between all of you. 

“Passing through.” Steve mumbles from beside you, eyes hard as he looks at the man. 

“Where’s your destination?” 

Steve falls silent again, clearly not trusting the man despite the help he’s provided so far. 

And you might not be the best judge, but you can tell that he is harmless, at least if he wants to be. His stance and his body tells you that he is trained, years of military experience probably. Even with the thick jacket on, you can tell that he is muscular. He surely doesn’t need the weapons on him to do some damage. Besides, this place wouldn’t be filled with people and children if they had ill intentions. 

“California.” Nancy says, surprising both you and Steve, earning a glare from the latter. 

“Oh?” He pushes himself off the wall, eyes sparking with interest. “The beach?” 

“Yeah.” She nods. 

He hums, nodding as he looks between you all, eyes lingering on you for a moment. 

“You guys from Hawkins?” 

Steve tenses up beside you, eyebrows creasing together as his lips part. 

“We had a little group passin’ through a while back, probably a year back by now,” he explains. “They were from Hawkins, heading to California as well.”

Nancy and Steve share a look before they look back at him, eyes sparkling with interest now. He straightens up beside you, still holding your hand. 

“One of the teens got sick, so they had to stay here for a week. We gave them medicine and recipes in case of any sicknesses in the future–”

“Teens?” Steve asks, leaning forward. “Which one?” He asks, hope rising up inside of him. 

The man before you furrows his eyebrows, “curly hair, lisp, he uh had cleidocranial dysplasia–”

“Dustin.” Steve sighs, worriedly to find out that he dealt with a sickness, but relieved to know that he is alright. 

Nancy sighs beside you, her eyes widening in relief. 

“Yeah, that was his name. We’re still in contact with them, if you want to, I’ll take y’all to the radio station tomorrow morning. I’m assuming your friend will need to stay in the infirmary tonight, maybe tomorrow too. You guys will get a place to stay–”

“I don’t wanna leave Eddie.” Nancy shakes her head. 

“I understand. You can move into one of our cabins tomorrow morning, after you talk to your friends.” 

You and Nancy nod, feeling more comfortable with that. 

Steve doesn’t seem fond of the idea, but he doesn’t argue against it, knowing that Dustin and the others were here shows him that he can put aside his distrust. 

The door opens before any of you can speak up again. The doctor walks out, causing all of you to tense up, Nancy especially. 

“He’s got a mild concussion, head injury looked worse than it actually was, but he lost a lot of blood on his leg. The cut was pretty deep. We stitched it up, but needs a blood transfusion.” He explains, looking down at Nancy. “You know his blood type?” 

“He’s a type B.” She says, voice filled with anxiety because she can’t help.

Steve huffs beside you, worriedly. 

“I’m type B too.” You speak up, letting go of Steve’s hand, you waste no time getting up and take off your jacket. “You can take my blood.” 

Steve leans forward, looking up at you with wide eyes. 

The doctor nods, he opens the door to the operating room, and gestures for you to step inside. You do, stepping forward and towards the room, you look back at him one more time. He is staring at you, eyes filled with emotions that could have fooled you. Soft and filled with something that you swore wasn’t just platonic. 

Were you really so far off? 

Or was he just giving the wrong signs? 

A soft touch on your hand pulls you back, and you look down, meeting Nancy’s eyes and her sad smile, “thank you,” she whispers, squeezing your hand. 

“Of course.” You squeeze her hand back before you let go and walk into the room. Eyes falling on Eddie’s body on the bed right away. Your heart clenches in your chest at the sight of him, face falling. The machines are beeping loudly beside him, his body still unmoving. 

“Aaron.” The doctor calls for the blue eyed man, motioning for him to follow inside. “Set the IV will ya?”

Steve tenses up, not wanting to be without you, not wanting you to be left alone with a stranger. He refuses to move away from his spot, refusing to walk into any other room and further away from you. 

The door closes behind you, and the man, Aaron, takes his jacket off, hanging it on the hook on the door. He walks over to the sink and washes his hands, glancing at you. 

“Take a seat, ma’am.” He gestures to the chair beside Eddie’s bed. 

You nod, making your way towards Eddie. You eye him, your eyes filling with sadness as you take his state in. 

You sit down without tearing your eyes away from him. The thought that you couldn’t protect him, that this happened again, sickens you. Guilt sparks up inside of you. If you hadn’t been so busy arguing with Steve, this wouldn’t have happened. 

Oh, Eddie. 

“You okay?” The man asks as he steps up before you, two needles and an IV line in his hand. 

“Yeah.”

“You’re not afraid of needles, are you?”

“No,” you shake your head. 

“Alright,” he nods, smiling softly at you. “Take your sweater off, please.”

You reach for the hem of your sweater, feeling glad for the tank top you have on underneath. You throw the sweater over the chair and lean back. 

“I’m Aaron, by the way.” 

You raise your eyebrows and look up to find him looking at you already, getting the IV line ready after injecting the needle into Eddie’s arm. He leans down before you, moving closer, and he sprays some disinfectant on your arm before he checks for a vein. 

You give him your name, offering a kind smile when his eyes meet yours.

“Nice to meet you,” he smiles, tilting his chin down. “You’re from Hawkins too?” He asks, distracting you from the needle he injects into your skin. 

“No,” you shake your head, ignoring the sting. “I’m from Nevada.”

“Oh, you’re a long way from home then.” 

You nod, eyes following the tattoos on his skin that disappear under the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Yeah, I was in New York for college when all this started…” 

He raises his eyebrow, not looking away from the IV until it starts drawing blood and flooding through the line. 

“You found your way to Indiana?” Aaron asks, eyes meeting yours again. 

“Yeah, stumbled right into Hawkins,” you say, smiling at the memory. 

“You were on your own before?” 

You nod, avoiding his eyes as he stares at you, his blue eyes moving across your face. It isn’t difficult to see how handsome he is, even in this state you are in, troubled by worry and anxiety, you still see it, you would have to be blind not to.

“Brave girl.”

You cast your eyes on the ground, blushing. 

He smiles to himself when he notices your reaction, and he takes a step back, checking on Eddie. 

“Alright, I’m gonna get you something to eat, you’ll need it after.”

“Okay,” you nod, giving him a small smile before you look over at Eddie. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, ma’am.” 

You are left alone with silence and your own thoughts after he leaves the room. You sink into the chair, keeping your eyes locked on your friend. The exhaustion of this day is catching up to you slowly, tiredness taking over you, and sleep envelopes you quickly, welcoming you with open arms. 

-

“Psst.” 

You feel something poking your arm, shaking you. 

“Sunshine.” 

Your eyebrows crease, your mind still hazy, feeling far away somewhere.

“Don’t die, you’re still a virgin.”

You open your eyes, frowning in confusion, needing a moment to take in your surroundings. Eddie’s kind eyes meet yours, a loopy smile on his face. 

You look down at his arm, the needle and the IV gone, a bandaid covering the spot the needle poked through. 

“There she is,” he grins. 

A groan falls from your lips, your back hurting from falling asleep on the uncomfortable chair. You don’t even register the comment he made. You blink, needing a moment to fully wake.

“I was kinda hoping the pain meds would get me high but I don’t feel shit.” Eddie frowns, pouting as he looks at you. 

You eye him up and down, moving closer, something falls off your shoulders and you look down, frowning when you notice a blanket that wasn’t there before. You glance at the bedside table, a chocolate bar and a glass of orange juice standing there for you. 

“Can’t believe you gave me your blood, we’re blood sisters now.” Eddie grins, trying to make you smile. 

You look up, shaking your head at him. Is he really not high?

“Come on, I’m trying to make you smile.”

“I appreciate that,” you mumble, tilting your head to the side. “I’m happy you’re back. Are you okay?” 

Eddie’s smile curls into a softer one, his brown eyes flashing with sympathy, knowing you feel guilt for not getting to him sooner. “I’m okay. Can’t believe they got me twice.” He murmurs. “Also, can’t believe I got Nancy Wheeler crying over me, she was full on sobbing when she and Steve came in before.” He chuckles, like they aren’t best friends. 

Was Steve the one who put the blanket around you? 

“I’m sorry, Eddie…” You whisper, reaching for his hand as you eye the bandage around his head, the bruise forming on the side of his head. 

The anxiety, the anger from the day before has passed and left your body. All that is left now is the sadness and heartbreak, mixed with guilt from not being able to protect him. 

His painful screams echo in your mind just like Steve’s hurtful words dawn on you again, repeating themselves in your brain over and over again. 

You rarely cried before, you never cried when you were on your own, you found it hard to. But now tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t push them away. 

“Hey…” Eddie whispers, his smile falling when he notices your face crumbling. “Sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper weakly as the first tears begin to fall, rolling down your cheek before you can even stop it. “If I hadn’t done anything, or tried anything at all with him, I wouldn’t have asked to stop for some air because the RV suffocated me with him in there and–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie shakes his head, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer, trying to hug you. You welcome it, lying your head on his chest carefully. 

He knew it was bound to happen, he knew you were gonna break down sooner or later after Steve’s rejection. 

“I got you.” He whispers, running his fingers through your hair as cry softly. “Please tell me that idiot apologized.” He mumbles, remembering how he sent him to talk to you. He didn’t have the chance to ask him before, one of the male nurses came in and asked them to follow him for a general checkup. 

You shake your head, keeping your eyes closed. 

He looks down at you, and the pain is written across your face. 

“What happened…?” He whispers, frowning. 

You shrug, not wanting to tell him. 

“Sweetheart–”

The door opens, and someone steps in, making you pull away from Eddie. You quickly wipe your tears and turn around. 

“You alright, Honey?” Aaron asks, looking at you. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows as he eyes the man, head tilting to the side in curiosity when he notices the way he looks at you. 

“Yeah,” you nod, sniffling as you glance at Eddie. “I’m just happy this moron is awake.” 

“Hey, I have feelings!” Eddie gasps, acting offended. 

Aaron chuckles as he walks over to him, checking the vital signs on the monitor. 

“You’ll be fine in a week or so. Gotta keep the injury in check, Doc had to give you some stitches.” He explains. 

“Oh man, a scar no one can see?” Eddie whines.

You giggle at him, shaking your head. 

Aaron looks at you, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Eddie. The man clears his throat and steps back, “alright, whenever you are feeling like you are ready to walk again, I’ll show you to your cabin.” He explains, nodding at you. “And you should eat something, you gave a lot of blood.” 

You nod, casting your eyes down shyly. 

“I’ll come check on you in a few hours again, but for now, you should rest some more, Eddie.” Aaron says as he makes his way to the door. “Your friends are outside, I’ll send them in.” 

Eddie nods at him, waiting until he is gone. He clears his throat, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. 

“Sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” You mumble as you take a sip of the orange juice. 

“Found you a Cowboy.” 

You almost spit out your juice, coughing loudly as you punch your chest in order to push the rest down. Eddie chuckled but winced as the action made the stitches move slightly. 

“I’m– Not interested.” You say, and Eddie sighs, shaking his head at you.

“Have you seen that man? I’ll be forever pissed at you if he makes a move and you don’t take it.” You blink a few times, surprised by Eddie’s words and– You have seen him.

You took notice before of his features, his eyes, his beard, his clothes, and the roughness of his voice. It was hard not to, even in the situation you were all in. Yet–

“Eddie?” Nancy rushed in, a smile on her face as Steve breathed heavily, right behind her. They both rushed to Eddie’s side, and you could only see the brown haired guy that was smiling with relief, as he hugged his friend after Nancy had her share.

Your heartstrings tugged at you, painfully so. Your fingers wrapped around the blanket again as you felt a shiver run down your spine. Yeah, Aaron was handsome, as Eddie put it. 

But those blue eyes had nothing against hazel ones.

Not even close.

☀︎

welp I am sorry. here is Aaron for y'all (face claim. not the actual actor, they just happen to have the same name lmao)

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx @bananasplits-world @myharrington

[nanamiskentos]

PLOT — Gojo wrote everyone letters before the Shinjuku Showdown, and it's time you finally opened yours.

CREW'S NOTES — disregarded working on a full fic rn in terms of some quick angst that actually did sober me up a bit 😁

You stare at it, the same letters sloped in scrawled, quick handwriting. Your name, scribbled on the front, and the paper is soft. What little choice do you have but to open it with careful fingers?

The moment the paper unfurls, you know.

He knew. Gojo must have known what the fight with Sukuna would entail. You look past his iteration of your name, the strokes heavy as if a hand had hesitated and allowed ink to pool underneath.

I thought about saying this in person. But you know me, always showing off when I should be serious, and being serious when I should be joking. Besides, if I looked you in the eye and said this, I think I'd lose my nerve.

I'm sorry.

I think I'm going to die.

Maybe not. Maybe, I'll win and we'll laugh about this, and you'll tease me for being overly dramatic. (Please go easy on me, I'm very fragile).

But if you're reading this, I guess I didn't make it and that bastard got the best of me, and I can only hope he didn't mess up my pretty face too bad. Sorry, I guess you're not laughing.

There's a lot I could say. A lot I should say. But none of it matters more than this: You made me so happy. God, you made me the happiest man on earth.

I don't know what it says about me that I was a sudden fool for Cupid, I fell in love with your quick, clever mouth and your eyes, and that spine made of steel that got into my bones so deep that I couldn't breathe sometimes.

You always looked at me like I was someone. Not just the strongest, not just a weapon. You touched me like I was worthy of love, and held me like I was yours. And I was, I am and I think I always will be. And when we next see each other again, I would still be yours.

If I could have built a world just for us, I would have. A stupidly big estate with ceiling windows for days, a dumb house that hates me, silk sheets you'd complain about, and a kitchen you would never use. I would love to introduce everyone to the new head of the Gojo clan, though you wouldn't have to take my name if you didn't want to. I wanted to see you, pretty in blue and silver silks, and I'd kiss your ring like a priest in love with his god, and scandalise all those fussy elders.

I wanted to grow old with you. Can you believe that? Me. Old.

White hair, back pain, stealing kisses from you like teenagers in love. I would have watched you glow in the sunlight, and watched you live besides me. And you would probably outlive me by a hundred years.

So, if I haven't come back, if this is truly it, then please remember me not for how I died (I'm actually a bit squeamish, so I hope it wasn't too messy), but for how I loved you. Because I did. I do.

And if there's any kind of after, I'll be there and I'll wait for you. Please don't forget to look for me, no matter how many years pass. Just remember to look for the smiling lovesick fool with snow in his hair, and hands in his pocket.

I love you.

Forever your idiot, Forever yours, Gojo Satoru

[astraljedi]

Dirty Laundry (Joaquin Torres)

Summary: You ask your roommate Joaquin for a favor—but when he finds your little secret friend, he decides to return the favor. Just you, him, and your favorite toy… turning a shitty night around.

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Female Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), masturbation, oral sex (f and m receiving), use of vibrator, light restraint, overstimulation, mirror sex, soft aftercare, established sexual tension, strong language.

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: I got inspired because I saw a clip from the movie heart eyes of the female character throwing her vibrator in the closet. I haven't scene this movie but I saw a second of that scene and I was already typing this fic. Enjoy!

Read part 2 here

- “You have a date?” Joaquin leans against the laundry room doorway, sipping a beer, wearing his football jersey and a backwards hat. His favorite team must be playing tonight.

“Yeah,” I say, pushing my bulky comforter into the dryer. “Dean’s in town for a few days.”

“Ah, the Navy pilot.” Joaquin rolls his eyes and steps aside, letting me pass him in the hallway of our shared apartment.

“How do I look? You think this is too much?” I ask, standing in the middle of the hallway. I smooth the hem of the new dress I bought earlier this week—a midnight blue mini that hits mid-thigh, with long sleeves hugging my arms and a square neckline dipping low enough to push my boobs up just a bit. The dress is flirty—the perfect thing to do what I want it to do tonight: get Dean and his marvelous self into my bed after months apart.

I really like Dean. He’s charming, smart, always takes charge when it comes to planning our dates and those spontaneous little trips to another state—usually to one of his family’s vacation homes. It’s been over a year since we started dating, but his Navy schedule was hard to get used to at first.

Joaquin clenches his jaw, scanning me from head to toe. “You look way out of Dean’s league.” He pushes my shoulder playfully and heads toward his bedroom. I follow, my strappy heels clicking against the floor, making me feel taller—sexier.

“Can you be the best roommate ever and make sure my comforter dries, then take it out of the dryer?” Joaquin sits on the edge of his dark blue comforter, and I stand close, looking down at him with my hands on my waist.

I notice him staring, his eyes focused on my cleavage.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on bringing Dean over,” he groans, throwing himself back onto the bed dramatically. “Doesn’t he have a hotel room he can take you to instead?”

“Can you just do it, please? For me?” I pout, sitting beside him. The dress rides up a little as I do. “I’ll make you lunch for work for a whole week if you help me out.”

He looks at me, debating if it’s worth his time. “Fine. But it better be your carne guisada with white rice,” he grumbles, sighing. I pat his thigh and stand up, feet firm on the wooden floor of his bedroom.

“It’s a deal.” I head to the doorway but pause in the frame and look over my shoulder. His eyes dart from my ass to my eyes quickly, thinking I didn’t notice him checking me out. “I’ll text you when I’m like ten minutes out. Wear your noise-cancelling headphones.” I wink at him and walk toward my bedroom to grab my bag.

I hear my phone ping and suspect it’s a text from Dean telling me he’s outside. I spray a little perfume and make sure my hair isn’t a mess from wrestling with the comforter earlier. I leave my bedroom door wide open and head toward the stairs. I shout back to Joaquin, telling him I’m leaving, and open the door expecting Dean waiting for me by the car—but he waves from inside the car instead.

That’s weird. He always waits for me outside his door and helps me into his expensive car. I shrug it off, locking the door behind me and pushing the thought to the back of my head.

The restaurant Dean chooses is nice. It usually is. Dean always picks somewhere new—somewhere a little over my budget—but he always insists on paying, and I don’t argue with a man who likes to treat his date.

“Do you like the wine I picked out?” Dean asks. He picked it for me, like he usually does.

“I do. It’s soft for a red,” I say, though I’m usually more of a white wine girl. He nods, taking a sip of his own drink. My phone lights up on the table and I glance down at the screen—Joaquin. Dean’s eyes catch the notification and I quickly turn it off before he starts with his insecurities about my boy roommate.

“Congrats on making Lieutenant, by the way. How do you feel?” I ask, trying to shift the conversation.

“Not a big deal. I already knew it was happening,” Dean says with a shrug, eyes skimming the menu, uninterested in keeping the conversation.

My brows knit together. Dean’s been acting off since picking me up. Usually, he waits by the passenger door and opens it for me, but this time he just sat in the car. When we got to the restaurant, he didn’t grab my hand to lead me to our table like he usually would. And he hasn’t said anything about my dress—he always has something to say.

Maybe I’m reading too much into it. “Oh.” That’s all I can say. My eyes fall to the menu in my hands, scanning the main courses even though I’ve lost my appetite. Maybe he’s just hungry. He did just arrive from the airport a few hours ago.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Dean says, reaching across the table to gently push my menu down so I’ll look at him.

“About what?” I tilt my head, leaning in.

“You’re amazing and gorgeous—I mean, look at you tonight.” He smiles, taking my hands into his. “This past year has been fun, but I’m ready to settle down somewhere. Start actually building the life I want.”

“Dean...” I blink, stunned. I wasn’t expecting this tonight, not even this year. We’ve talked about marriage, family, and the future before—but this feels so sudden.

“I’m engaged,” he says, still smiling. The words make my stomach drop. “I proposed a few weeks ago in the Hamptons. I’ve been meaning to break things off with you, but I didn’t want to do it over text or a phone call. You don’t deserve that.”

He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. I yank it away immediately.

“So calling me earlier this week and inviting me to dinner to tell me you got engaged to someone else was your idea of what I deserve?” I raise my voice, and a few heads turn our way.

“Can you lower your voice, please?” he whispers, glancing around.

“Oh, you don’t want the whole restaurant to hear me call you a fucking dick for dumping me after leading me on for a whole year—all while you were with someone else?” I shoot up to my feet, my chair screeching against the expensive marble floors. I grab the wine glass by the stem and toss the deep red liquid onto his pristine, expensive shirt. “Your wine selection sucks, by the way.”

Dean gasps, scrambling to stand. “You’re a crazy bitch! This is Armani!” His eyes bulge like I’m the insane one here.

“It’s worthless now—just like you, asshole,” I snap, spinning on my heels and marching out. The restaurant falls into stunned silence behind me. The hostess by the door hangs with her mouth agape while the room starts to murmur.

Fuming, I stomp down the sidewalk, heels clicking hard against the pavement. I walk a few blocks away before ordering an Uber—I refuse to be anywhere near that restaurant when Dean leaves. I won’t give him the satisfaction of a last word after what he pulled.

I’m not even heartbroken. I’m just fucking pissed. This man has been seeing someone else all this time, lying to me. Telling me about our future plans. Maybe all this time, this was his plan with me.

When the sweet woman Uber driver drops me off at home, I storm up the small stairs on the porch and unlock the front door. I slam it behind me and toss my bag onto the little entry table. I don’t even bother texting Joaquin that I’m home early. I head straight for the kitchen and grab the sealed bottle of white wine Joaquin bought me a few days ago.

Screw the glass—I take a long sip straight from the bottle. Then I head upstairs, passing Joaquin’s closed door, and go straight to mine. I leave the door open and throw myself face-first onto my bed. The comforter is laid out—nicely. Not the way I would’ve done it, but the effort is there.

At least I can count on my roommate for something.

God, this is not how I imagined tonight going. How pathetic.

Still wearing my dress and heels, I lay back and sip the wine again, trying to erase the whole disaster from my mind.

A soft knock at my open door pulls me from my thoughts. I glance up, propping myself on my elbows, and meet Joaquin’s eyes. He looks at me first—his gaze lingers at my chest before flicking to the bottle in my hand.

“You okay? Did something happen?” he asks. He doesn’t step inside, but the concern in his voice is clear.

I let out a laugh—a small one at first, then louder, almost unhinged. “Dean’s fucking engaged,” I finally manage between fits of laughter.

“Engaged?” Joaquin’s face contorts in confusion, mirroring my own earlier.

“He took me on a date to break up with me because he got engaged a few weeks ago,” I explain, taking another sip.

“What a fucking asshole,” Joaquin mutters, shaking his head. “I never liked him anyway—he was always too cocky.”

“You never like the guys I bring home,” I say, smirking despite everything. “But hey, if you see a video floating around of someone tossing a glass of red wine at a guy in a restaurant with marble floors? That’s me.”

“Good for you. I’m proud.” He chuckles, leaning against my door, still watching me.

“I’m just going to take this amazing dress off, take a shower, burn it, and call it a night.” I rest the wine on my nightstand but don’t get up yet. “Thanks for taking this out of the dryer,” I say, smoothing the comforter.

“You know, you should be careful with what you throw in with your comforter,” he says, a small smirk on his lips. I scrunch my nose, confused. Joaquin doesn’t move, but he pulls out my light blue bullet vibrator from behind his back. “I was about to throw the comforter on your bed when this little guy fell before my feet.” 

My eyes go wide and I jump toward him to take it, but he grabs my wrist and hides it out of reach. “Joaquin, come on. I’ve already been embarrassed once tonight.” I try to break free from his grip, but my eyes land on his—dark and filled with something I’ve only seen once before.

My insides flip. The heat of his chest against mine makes my nipples harden beneath the lacy material under my dress.

“I don’t want to make fun of you, I promise.” He leans down, close enough for me to feel his rapid breathing. Jesus. I swallow the whimper in my throat as he pushes me against the door. “You don’t have to spend the rest of the night alone with your toy.” His lips brush my jawline, and I arch my back, bumping my hips into his.

“I don’t want to be alone,” I whisper, my voice small. He shoves the bullet into his pocket, pulls my face close with both hands, and crashes his lips onto mine. I moan into his mouth, my hands sneaking up to his waist and under his shirt, running along the muscles of his toned back.

He pulls me off the door and leads me to my bed without breaking the kiss, his tongue meeting mine. His hand lands on the back of my neck, deepening the kiss even further. The back of my knees hit the mattress, and we fall to the bed. He uses one hand to hold himself up while the other glides over my smooth calves and up the side of my thighs.

I lift my hips, my dress riding up as I grind against his now growing bulge. “Joaquin,” I breathe out. His lips pull away from mine, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck. He bites and licks the swell of my breasts, tugging the material of my dress down to expose my breasts.

I’m grateful I matched my lingerie tonight. 

Joaquin bites the lacy material and pulls it aside, freeing my nipple to the cold air. He licks the stiff peak with one slow stroke before pulling it into his mouth. He twirls his tongue around it, sucking hard before releasing it with a pop, then blows cool air over it, smirking as I squirm beneath him. He lifts himself up, kneeling on the mattress. He removes his shirt over his head, and I stare at his perfectly tanned, muscled torso.

I look at him and lick my lips, drinking him in—his lips red and swollen, pupils blown wide, and his cock straining against his grey sweatpants. 

Fuck, why haven’t we done this before?

Joaquin grabs my waist and flips me, stomach down onto the mattress. I brace myself on my forearms and arch my back, pressing my ass up for him to use me however he wanted. His fingers trace a slow path along the backs of my thighs as he keeps me spread open with one leg. I glance over my shoulder the moment I hear a low buzz. I bite my lip, watching him trail the cool vibrating bullet over the same path as his fingers. I gasp as he presses it to my lace-covered clit, trying to grind against it, but he holds me still with a firm hand on my hip.

“You’re under my care, baby. Let me praise you.”

Joaquin hovers over my trembling body. The hand on my hip moves to the zipper on the back of my dress. His lips brush behind my ear, pressing wet, sloppy kisses as the zipper slides down with torturous slowness.

He keeps the bullet on the lowest setting, circling my soaked clit slowly, teasingly. He removes the vibrator and peels the dress from my body, tossing it aside. The fabric brushes my sensitive nipples, and I whimper, aching for his touch—but his hands are nowhere on me.

“Patience,” he murmurs against my skin, his lips trailing down my spine. He lowers himself to my core, squeezing my ass cheeks as his nose brushes the lacy fabric covering my wet heat. Joaquin presses his nose against me, inhaling deeply. I fist the pillows, barely holding myself together.

“You smell divine,” he growls, hooking a finger into my lingerie and sliding it down. Cool air hits my exposed sex. Before I can catch my breath, his lips crash into my folds. He spreads me wider, eating me from behind. I moan loudly, my eyes squeezing shut, legs trembling as his tongue sucks my clit, then teases my soaked entrance, pushing inside me.

He turns the vibrator back on and presses it to my clit as his tongue works me open.

“I’m not going to last,” I gasp, my voice catching. I glance at the mirror behind us and see him between my legs, grinding his hips into the mattress, his face buried in my sex. The sight alone makes me shudder.

“Joaquin.” I chant his name, my knuckles turning white around the pillows. He doesn’t stop. He increases the vibrator’s speed, sucking me dry. The sounds—the wetness, the panting, the desperate moans—blur my vision. It’s too good. Too much.

“Baby, too much, please,” I gasp, trying to squirm away.

He pulls back and flips me onto my back. The toy still buzzes against the bedding. He kneels between my legs, his knee digging into the mattress to keep me open. My chest heaves, trying to steady my breath. His lips are wet with me, and he smiles proudly.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re a dream.”

I lean forward, desperately grabbing the waistband of his sweats. I need him now—need to feel him stretch me, fill me, cover me. I free him, stroking his length as he looks down, lips parted, sighing at the sensation.

I bring my mouth to his tip, pressing a kiss to it before taking him in. I flatten my tongue to the slit, tasting the salt of his precum. I slide him deeper into my mouth, the tip hitting the back of my throat, my nose brushing his skin.

He fists my hair, holding me in place. I breathe through my nose, one hand bracing on his hip for balance, and suck him slowly. I pull back halfway, wrapping my hand around the rest of his shaft, stroking and licking his cock. He throws his head back, moaning my name.

“You love sucking my cock?” he groans, bucking into my mouth, forcing me to take more. I nod, moaning, cheeks hollowing as I suck harder. “What beautiful noises you make. Look at you—soaking the bed.” He chuckles breathlessly, his knuckles brushing my cheek as his eyes flick to the wet spot behind me. I grind my hips against the sheets, needing friction.

He pulls me away from him, leaving me gasping, teary-eyed. “So pretty.”

This time, I grab his shoulders and shove him onto the bed. I straddle his lap as he watches me. I grab the vibrator from the bed and turn it up a notch. I trail it down his chest slowly, circling a nipple and dragging it to his waist, where my wetness coats his skin.

Now it’s my turn to play.

I do the same to myself—trailing the toy down my chest, teasing each nipple. My walls clench with anticipation. I shiver as I press it to my clit, grinding against him. Joaquin grips my waist, his fingers digging into my skin.

“Fuck,” he swears.

I’m close again, but he grabs my hand and steals the orgasm from me. I cry out in frustration. He switches the toy off and tosses it across the room.

“I’m the one who’s allowed to make you come now. Enough playing.” His voice is rough, commanding.

He lifts my hips, and I line him up. I try to slam down, but he stops me. He keeps full control.

“Please,” I whimper, my hands over his, trying to wrestle control back. He chuckles wickedly—it’s no use. He lets me sink down slowly, the pace killing me. I open my mouth to complain, but he suddenly thrusts upward, leaving me gasping.

I brace my hands on his chest.

“All this for me,” he moans, brows furrowed with restraint. “Jesus, baby.”

He lifts me again and slams me back down. I let him use me, meeting his thrusts mid-air. “I’m not going to last,” I mumble, high on sensation. My eyelids flutter, my legs trembling, the coil inside me about to snap.

Joaquin flips us over and I squeal as my back hits the pillows. He slams into me harder, lifting one leg over his shoulder to spread me wider. I throw my head back, the new angle brushing against a deep, dizzying spot inside me.

His hips snap against mine, the pace relentless. My skin radiates heat and sweat sticks on my skin. I grab the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss, I need to feel him everywhere. 

He braces one hand on the headboard as it creaks against the wall. I slip my tongue between his lips—I taste myself on him, and I moan. His hand slips between us and circles my clit while he pounds into me.

And I fall apart without warning, gasping his name and my body convulsing. His forehead presses to mine, our breaths uneasy. I clamp around him as he thrusts sloppily, then groans into my neck as he comes deep inside me.

We lie there panting, his face buried in my neck while I stroke his hair. I feel our mess leaking out as he pulls out and I wince when he gently lowers my leg from his shoulder.

“God,” I pant, my legs trembling. Joaquin slips out of the room and returns with a warm towel. I didn’t even notice he’d pulled his sweatpants back on. He sits at the edge of the bed, spreading my legs and carefully cleaning the mess between them.

I whimper, overstimulated even by his gentle touch. When he’s done, I sit up and rest my chin on his shoulder, his hand on my knee.

“You okay?” I ask. For once, I can’t read his face, and it makes me nervous. Did we just mess everything up?

“Yeah. Are you?” He brushes his thumb across my knee, a touch so soft it makes my heart skip.

“Fuck, why haven’t we done this before?” I blurt and he laughs. “You’ve been hiding this from me,” I tease, dragging my nails down his back.

“I’m sorry for what happened with Dean tonight.” He leans in, pressing a kiss on my cheek.

“It’s okay. I’m out of his league anyway.” I laugh softly.

I stand up from the bed, and my jello legs almost betray me, but Joaquin keeps me balanced on my feet with a steady hand on my waist.

“We should order in. I’m starving.” I pick up his jersey from the floor and throw it over my body, too lazy to grab something from my closet.

Joaquin licks his lips, looking at me. He stands up from my bed, and his chest meets my back. A hand roams from my chest up to my neck. He leans my face back and catches my lips for a slow tongue kiss.

My hand lands on top of his, the one holding my neck, and if he didn’t have me pressed against his chest, my legs would’ve given out. He pulls away and looks down at me, and I smile already tipsy from him alone. 

“Yeah, let’s fuel you up, because I’m not done with you,” he says, smacking my ass and leading me downstairs to the kitchen.

[naomi-nana]

Firstly, your writing is amazing!! Secondly, this idea has been marinating in my head for weeks- Could you write how the housewardens would react to reader taking extra classes to get enough credits so they can graduate with the housewardens, so that they won’t be alone? Sorry if this doesn’t make much sense, English is not my first language. Thank you!

✎ᝰ. just a little longer . twisted wonderland

in which you take extra classes to skip grades so you can graduate with them, but you ended up getting sick instead. how would they react?

featuring : housewardens (vice housewardens)

cw : gn!reader, might be ooc(esp vil, azul n idia because idk how to write for them), bad grammars, hurt/comfort angst

a/n : thank you, anon!! that means a lot to me T^T i changed it a little bit to reader becomes sick after all of that, if that's okay. thank you for the request! i enjoyed writing this!

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

while he respects your diligence, riddle also knows where the limit lies.

when he saw how sick you were on his way to go to the headmage's office to submit a paperwork, riddle almost dropped everything to the ground.

immediately approaches you in full panic but also trying to stay composed housewarden mode.

"you look unwell. is it because of all those extra classes? i understand that you want to broaden your knowledge, but you mustn't pass your limit. it will not help you in any way. it will just burden you."

but when you tell him that it's all because you want to graduate with him, so you don't feel lonely? riddle breaks. he feels something in him starts to melt, but he doesn't know what it is. you're telling him that you did all of this for him? he feels tears starting to swell in the corner of his eyes, but he composes himself.

"don't ... don't say things like that. i'm not gonna leave you, love. even if i graduate first, that won't mean i won't contact you at all after that. so, there is no need to push yourself so far, okay? i still have around a year and a half here, too. so we'd have plenty of time to spend, and you won't feel lonely at all. i promise you that."

but if you insist on doing all those extra classes, riddle won't stop you. just expect him to offer to help you in your studies and also to check on you each time to make sure you have your studies and rest well balanced.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

he probably already knows what you're doing and what your goal is by accidentally eavesdropping on your conversation with one of your friends.

would say something like, "what makes you think i'll graduate this year?"

but if you actually come back looking all exhausted from all the extra classes you took, expect to have meals already served by the time you got to your dorm room. also, a little note beside it that says, "i ordered ruggie to do this but be ok"

that man ... be ok? seriously? even cockroaches can write better love letters. you sighed, sitting on the couch. and that's when you suddenly feel a random pair of hands sneaking up your waist. "what the-" it's leona.

"heh, you thought i didn't do jack shit didn't you? well, guess what? yours truly bought the ingredients himself and delivered it here. walking. where's your thanks, hm?"

you smack his hands away with a frown, but you did thank him in the end. how did he even know you haven't eaten at all? and did he seriously wait for you to come home for like, an hour? also, what the hell did he use to camouflage so easily with the couch?

"i appreciate your effort, but no need to worry your pretty lil' head over it. even if i graduate, you think i'll leave you alone?"

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

this man is both happy and worried sick at the same time. it's the first time someone made such a huge effort to stay by his side forever, since people usually go out of their way to not be acquainted with him back then.

but he's also very worried if one day you come back late, hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled, and eyebags so visible even floyd can see it from five nautical miles. he'd ask what the hell you did to have such a messy look and also have a mild fever at the same time with a really shaky voice.

would order jade to make you some tea and begged floyd to go outside to buy some medicine, any medicine, from sam's shop. "oh, thank the seven it is only a mild fever. what did you do for this to happen?! i didn't know that taking extra classes could result in ... ugh, but i guess if you don't take proper rest, it is bound to happen."

when he hears that you did this all for him, he absolutely breaks. "what ...? you shouldn't have ... look, listen, i- i'm not gonna leave you even if i graduate first, you know? i'll stay by your side, no matter what happens. so, don't do this again, okay?"

if you really want to, he'd offer to persuade the headmage to give you higher grades so you can easily skip grades, but of course, you refused. that same night, azul will stay by your bed until you fall asleep first. (he slept first instead)

KALIM AL-ASIM

almost stumbles and falls to the ground running towards scarabia's entrance when jamil says you're waiting for him there. how could he not? earlier today, you had texted him that you feel as if you're having a fever from the amount of studying you did. reading that text alone almost made kalim faint.

he was about to come and escort you to scarabia himself using his magic carpet, but jamil stopped him, saying that flight would worsen your condition. so kalim waited in the lounge, pacing around the room impatiently and also worryingly.

"name!" almost tackles you to the ground but stops himself and slaps his own face for almost making your condition worse. "oh, god! i was worried sick when you said you have a fever! let's come inside, okay? jamil already cooked hot soup for you!"

if you decided to tell him about your reason for studying and began to cry while doing so, kalim almost falls to his knees. "hey, don't cry ... i'll cry, too! hiks ... i'm sorry for making you feel so lonely ... i'll make it up to you somehow, so stop pushing yourself, okay?"

would feel really bad and also overthinks where he made you feel so lonely to the point you have to literally push your limits just to spend time with him. if you assured him it's not your fault, he'll hug you. "i'm sorry ... please don't scare me like that again."

VIL SCHOENHEIT

immediately knows because rook probably knows about it first somehow and couldn't keep his mouth shut

he would invite you to his dorm room and lightly scold you about it. "i understand you want to have better grades so you can skip grades, but seriously ... there is a better way to do it rather than throwing yourself to random classes that don't align with your interest." he sighed while applying his newly bought eye cream to your eyebags.

he would give you tips while scolding you to also take better care of yourself. but when he notices you're starting to frown at his words, his eyes soften for just a moment.

"name ... i do love you, you know that, right? i am telling you this because i care for you. i don't want you to become sick just because you don't want me to graduate first. i'm sorry if i ever made you feel lonely in our relationship to the point that it makes you do something like this."

he'd caress your face, run a hand through your hair, and kiss the top of your head. "the last thing i would want to do is for me to make you feel lonely, my dear."

IDIA SHROUD

what? you're kidding, right? you're getting extra classes for him? an antisocial weirdo like him? this is like, a super rare event that happens once in a lifetime!

all jokes aside, he'd be worried (and shocked) if ortho came barging into his room with you behind him while yelling, "big brother! name is sick because they've been taking extra classes!", then throwing you—gently—on the ground.

"w-w-what the?! ortho! d-don't just leave them here!" genuinely nervous and doesn't know what to do. but if he notices that your breathing started to become quicker and unstable, and you also looks like you're about to faint, he'll (try) to calm himself down.

then, he'll offer his bed for you to lay on. "d-do you feel better now? i can ask ortho to make tea ... if u want. uh, i heard from the headmage you've been taking extra classes. why tho? that's like, throwing yourself into a scary hard mode dungeon. i appreciate the dedication, tho."

if you told him it's because you don't want him to graduate first and leave you alone, he'll feel terrible. he feels bad that he's the cause of your suffering, and he's immediately convinced why someone like him doesn't have that many friends because of that.

"calm down, i didn't mean it that way. i just don't want to feel lonely, that's all. i didn't say that you were the one at fault." you'll have to reassure him over and over that this is all your wish and not his fault at all. he's also probably the type to stay by your bed while playing games until you feel better lol

MALLEUS DRACONIA

this man was absolutely mortified(and touched) when he finds out that you've been secretly taking extra classes just to skip grades and graduate together with him. not only that, you also get sick because of those extra classes. that's what makes him mortified.

when he first saw how weak and frail you become after a week of extra classes, he thinks that humans are so fragile and easy to break. but he also feels bad and would offer you to sleep in his dorm for the time being until you feel better.

malleus would also be the type to confront crowley directly just to ask some questions. even if this isn't connected to the guy at all, he just wants to hear answers from the headmage himself.

anyways, expect him to ask you questions too. like: "are you still having a fever? would you like me to make some tea for you? is this bed comfortable enough, dearest?" and so much more. he would also be running around in the kitchen by himself if you said you were craving for some soup.

(sebek would want to yell at you for ordering malleus around, but holds himself back because he doesn't want to make malleus even more stressed.)

he would often ask lilia what he should do when this or that happens, and of course, being the kind man he is, he answers the question thoroughly(not without a little bit of teasing, of course). malleus would also want to put a stop to your extra classes.

"beloved, i understand your desire to stay by my side, but i won't tolerate it if you become sick just because of that. if you do not wish to become lonely, you can tell me, and i shall be by your side the moment my name leaves your lips."

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use (with or without permission), do not recommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[cosmal]

beer pong — send me a lyric + a character n i’ll write u a blurb

ok soo this line from means something by lizzy: ‘I felt the way that you kissed me, when we got too drunk that night, and that has to mean something’ with remus perhaps!!!

drunk mistakes

content remus lupin x reader

summary you kiss remus, drunk, at a party. the next time you see him you have some things to say.

note okay cocky remus is my fav remus im sorry!!!! But also thank u for Remus n Lizzy mal omg rahhhhh

You can hear Remus laughing from the kitchen.

You sit with Lily and Mary but you're not really listening. You hope they're not talking to you, Remus's laugh is like music to your ears.

"Hello?" Mary waves her hand infront of your face and you blink. You have it in you to look embarrassed but you don't feel it.

"Sorry," you clear your throat. "What did you say?"

"We're going to the kitchen to do shots." Lily says, smiling, "You're coming."

"I've had four margarita's," you tell them, but still let them lift you from the couch. "One more drink and I might end up in the peonies like Frank did last time."

"Lucky its not a drink," Mary says and takes you by the hand, "it's a shot!"

You let them guide you into the kitchen and you can't help but look for Remus immediately. You feel a little silly when he's not looking back.

You stand back as they fill glasses with way too much black sambuca. You hope if you stay behind them, they won't even remember to pour you a shot.

You look up from the mess of liquour on the bench top and watch Remus turn and make his way to the front hallway. You think about following him and can't find the courage to move your feet. But then James is trying to pass you a shot and you move without thinking.

Remus is sitting in one of the balcony seats when you find him. The warm light from the bulb above him casts him amber where looks down at the drink in his lap.

"I was hoping you'd follow me out here," he says. He doesn't look up from his glass.

You want to laugh. "Am I supposed to be a mind reader now?"

"No," Remus is stern. "I just know you too well."

This time a snort makes it way from your nose and you tamp it down. "You've known me a month, tops."

"I've known my friends since first year, they've never had their tongue down my throat." He turns to look at you finally, there's a glint in his eyes you haven't seen yet. A month, you remind yourself.

You choke. You don't know what to say, partially because he's right. "I know for a fact, Sirius Black has had his way with you."

He laughs into the tequila-soda he has pressed against his mouth and shakes his head. You don't know what to do with yourself, you didn't think about what you'd do once you were out here — you never even thought you'd be left alone with Remus again.

"Are you gonna sit down?" Right, yeah.

You sit beside him, and you're painfully aware of how close you are —close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, but not close enough to bridge the ache growing in your chest.

You want to lean in, just enough to feel his breath stir against your skin, to know if he’d flinch or freeze or maybe, just maybe, lean in too.

But it's like he's afraid of being known too well or touched too deeply. He holds himself in quiet tension, a soft-spoken mystery wrapped in secondhand sweaters and lingering glances that say nothing and everything all at once.

You haven’t spent much time with him — less than you’d like to admit, given how often he slips into your thoughts, uninvited but never unwelcome. Still, every moment near him feels like a held breath, like something on the edge of becoming.

"Not drinking anymore?" He asks. He presses the bottom of his glass against your bare thigh, leaving a line of condenstation up against your skin.

"I don't want a repeat of last time," you laugh. You're covered in goosebumps — from the cold drink or his presence, you're not sure.

"Last time was fun!" You know what he means. "I like drunk you."

You sometimes wonder if Remus will only ever kiss you when there’s just enough liquor in both your veins to kill a horse. Not because he doesn’t want to — no, you feel it in the way his eyes linger, in the quiet moments where his hand almost reaches for yours. He's doing it right now. But you don’t know what hurts more, that he might only reach for you when he's not entirely himself, or that you’d still let him.

He's staring at the side of your face and it burns. You can't bring yourself to look at him. Not when you can picture the way he's looking back at you. With soft eyes and an even softer smile. A boy with a face like that might kill you if he tried hard enough.

"Drunk me does dumb shit."

He turns away and you're half relieved, half disapointed. You're not sure if liquid courage is a bad thing or not. One more margarita and you might have enough confidence to at least look him in the eyes. You hate him for making you so nervous.

"Kissing me was dumb?"

You blink, and then swallow so hard that it hurts. "No," you mumble, and then, louder, "No, kissing you wasn't dumb. Me falling asleep on Mary's bathroom floor, that was dumb."

Remus chuckles. "Right. Okay, good."

"You were drunk too."

There's a beat of slience, only laughter from inside, and the crickets in the grass are to be heard. "I'm not drunk right now."

You're not exactly sure when Remus ended up so close. You’d been so careful about keeping your distance, watching where you sat. Maybe you were too focused on staying away to notice him getting closer.

"I'm not going to let you kiss me again just to end up drunk at another party, right back in this same situation."

Remus is already leaning in, his hand is already reaching for your face. "I'll kiss you whenever you want me to." His hands are cold, you don't care. You wonder if his lips are the same. "Tequila or not, I'll kiss you whenever."

[crescenthistory]

Hello, may i request a prompt "are we friends?" between f!reader and the slytherin skittles? Where the reader used to attend Ilvermorny but had trauma from it (like bullying and fallout with friends). So she doesn’t want to intrude on the friendship that the skittles already have. Oh and they’re all in their sixth year. Thank you 🙏

hi lovely, thank you for this cute concept<33 i didn't explicitly emphasise what your past at ilvermorny was to leave it dubious and open to every reader

Prompt: F.3 "Are we friends?"

Words: 2.2k

Warnings/tags: gn!reader, use of y/n, ilvermorny!reader (no specified nationality), implied troubled background at ilvermorny, mental illness/insecurity shown through reader's pov, odd friendship dynamics, found family, intended as platonic!slytherin skittles x reader but can be read as romantic if you want<3

You weren't entirely sure what happened.

One day you were being thrown into what felt like a wild zoo filled with any and every kind of person you could possibly imagine, clad in dark robes and chattering around in hundreds of different accents, and you were decidedly determined to isolate yourself away from the masses and live a solitary life at Hogwarts.

The next, you were sitting in the library and the same group of Slytherins that sat with you yesterday – and strangely the day before that, and the day before that – plopped down around you and made themselves at home. As if this was simply the norm, as if it was a given that their seat was the one beside you.

You weren't offended or uncomfortable, necessarily, but you were certainly... confused. You didn't mind them being there, yet their presences were strange to you and you could not make sense of this disconnect in your mind.

When you arrived at Hogwarts a month ago, you had felt nothing short of publicly humiliated when you were brought up to the Sorting Hat after the ocean of 11 year-olds had been passed through it for the past hour. It was apparently not a common occurrence that students transferred in from other schools, especially not Ilvermorny, and there was no protocol for how to handle it. Instead of taking your Ilvermorny house into consideration and putting you in the Hogwarts house that most closely resembled it, Dumbledore himself had decided that this jittery 7th year student go through the same process as everyone else.

McGonnagall had pitied you enough to grab your shoulder before you went up to whisper to you, "The hat is your friend, not foe, Mx. L/N. Do not fear it."

With entirely too many eyes on you, you climbed the steps and gingerly sat down on the seat. Unlike with the kids, the Sorting Hat fit you rather snuggly, leaving you unfortunately without the much sought after shelter of the brim.

You solved the solution by looking down in your lap, trying not to visibly startle when a voice spoke in your mind.

Transfer student, huh? Haven't had one of you in a while. Most certainly interesting...

You reminded yourself friend not foe and closed your eyes, trying to will the hat to be merciful and grant you reprieve. To put you in a house where you can get what you need – solitude, privacy, quiet. It was just a year. You could go through a year if you were just left alone.

To your shock – though perhaps it shouldn't have been – the hat responded to your thoughts.

What you need, you say? Well, I do believe I can help in that regard. Keep your mind open, dear one.

The next word the hat spoke was out loud, not in your mind – it yelled out "SLYTHERIN". At the time, you didn't know whether to be relieved, confused or terrified. Unbeknownst to you, a certain group of 7th year Slytherins sitting at the end of the long table had shared curious looks and wide grins upon the announcement.

Those Slytherins were the very same strewn around you today, on various furniture all surrounding the same large oak table that was almost invisible beneath all your parchments and books.

You were sitting on one end of a settee, legs crossed and wrists resting on the table, somewhat jittery. On the other side sat Regulus Black in a similar position, his face as impassive as ever and turned down into a book that you were quite confident was not in the curriculum. Opposite you on a similar sofa, Barty Crouch Jr. laid upside down, with his legs thrown over the back of the sofa and his neck craning in a way that simply could not be comfortable where it rested on the seat. Pandora Rosier was sitting cross-legged on the ground beside Barty's head, braiding a dozen tiny braids into his hair, mixing black and acid green strands together absentmindedly. Her twin brother Evan Rosier was pretending to ignore whatever Barty was talking about as he did his homework, but you could see how his ears were perked up. Lastly, Dorcas Meadowes sat on an armchair beside the settees, twirling her wand and looking every bit like she was thinking of something she shouldn't.

You would be the first to admit that they were interesting people. In another life, perhaps you would even spend time together on purpose – but now, above all else one might want to know about them, you wanted to know why they were here.

It had started by them making space for you on the Slytherin table that first day, and afterwards they always left an open space there. Not asking, not demanding; it was as if they were just assuming you would sit there. And you didn't know where else to sit, so you did. Then the same thing happened in your classes – you sat down at an empty table, and before you knew it, one of them was taking the empty seat beside you.

There was never any proper introductory conversation, never any invitation into a friendship, yet they found you everywhere. It was not as if they didn't talk to you when they were there, though; from the very beginning, they were cracking jokes with and around you and roping you into their odd conversations. Learning more about you as you went instead of interrogating you on the spot.

It was sudden and unexpected and you didn't know what to do about it.

"Then I told him precisely where he could shove it and– are you even listening to me?" Barty cut himself off to look accusatory at Evan, whose eyebrow was now quirked up while his eyes remained trained on his parchment.

"Hm?" Evan asked absentmindedly, though you were almost entirely sure it was just to rile the other boy up.

Evan was usually successful in such endeavors, and this was no exception, judging by the shrieking gasp that escaped Barty. "You absolutely bloody wanker, how dare you– this is a good story!"

"Maybe," Evan drawled. "But it lost its charm around the third time I heard it."

Barty whipped his head sideways to stare daggers into Evan. "Salazar's soggy balls, this is a new story, I swear." He then rolled his head backwards to look at you upside down, pinning you to the seat with the same accusatory tone. "You were listening to me, right, Drâga?"

You made a reluctant face. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were talking to me."

Barty let out a theatrical huff and threw his hands up in the air for effect, nearly hitting Pandora on the way, causing Evan to give his wrist a slap, still without looking. "Of course I was talking to you – I'm talking to you all. By Merlin, you're all awful friends."

Though Barty continued on with his grumbling, you felt frozen in place by his last word. Before you could think more of it, the words tumbled out of your mouth. "We're what now?"

Dorcas tilted her head to the side, looking between you and Barty. "Oh, he didn't mean it Y/N, he's just a loudmouthed arse. You're still getting used to it."

"I resent that." Barty pointed at Dorcas as he spoke before he grabbed one of Evan's parchments, curled it up into a ball and threw it at her. "I'll have you know, I'm a fucking delight."

You were unaffected by their banter, eyes still narrowed at the lot of them, trying to decipher and understand what the hell was going on.

"You're thinking hard." Regulus remarked from your right, finally looking up from his book. At his rare contribution to conversation, Evan and Pandora seemed to perk up as well, and you suddenly felt entirely too much like you were being stared down. It was worse than the Sorting Hat.

"I–" you began, but cut yourself off and pressed your lips together with furrowed brows. "You think we're friends?"

Whatever they expected your answer to be, that did not seem to be it, based on their empty gazes. Dorcas reared her head backwards just a little, while Barty did a full body spin to land him in a mostly-upright position on the sofa – this time Evan yanked Pandora out of reach of Barty's swinging legs.

"What do you mean, do I think we’re friends?" Barty questioned then, almost offended. "Don’t pull my leg, why else would we be here? Either way, what I was trying to say–"

Barty's rant was once again cut off, this time simply by Dorcas holding up one hand in his direction while her eyes remained dutifully trained on you. "Love, did you not think we're friends?" she asked. Her voice was so painfully gentle, so caring, that you wanted to shy away from it, to pack up your bag and run and hide.

You realised that that was not a possibility. Instead, you tried to shrug as casually as you could and not let your emotions show. "Well, why would we be? We don't know each other, do we?"

You dared a glance sideways to see Regulus looking at you with a seemingly unimpressed expression, but you saw the twitch in the corner of his mouth. Evan opposite you, though, was not hiding his wide grin whatsoever. "Don't we know each other, love?" he asked then, seemingly partially smug.

"Yeah, if you don't know me, that is because you lot of wankers never listen. But I most certainly know you, L/N." Barty gestured with his finger in your general direction, as if he was preaching, which Evan yet again slapped away – though in favour of pulling Barty closer into his side.

"You don't know me," you tried, voice shaky yet growing somewhat frustrated with the situation.

"Of course we do," Dorcas intercepted. "I know you loathe breakfast but adore dinner. I know you prefer tea over coffee, I know that you like the sweets from back home better than those from Honeydukes."

"And I know that you're ridiculously patient, both with randos you're paired up with in class and with us, your friends," Barty added with a deadpan. "I know your real laughter is a very cute snort. I know you dislike being pranked but enjoy watching them play out, which is why we never play them on you but always around you."

"You're kind and you're bloody bright," Evan said with a nod, as if this was a natural conclusion. “Your best subjects are all of my worst ones, which is a joy. Watching your passion for them is the most enjoyable, though.”

"And you're peculiar just like us." Pandora finally spoke up with a smile on her lips and a glint in her eye. "That's why we go so well together – we're the same."

At some point in their conversation with you, your mouth fell open as you listened to them recount everything they had picked up about you over the past few weeks. The moment didn't feel real, it felt fabricated by some awfully optimistic and naive six year old still living in your mind, one that was readily crushed long before your transfer. You didn't realise they had noticed you so much.

You're brought out of your stupor by Regulus' quill being poked into your side, demanding your attention. You turned your head to find the twitch of his lip had turned into a small, knowing smile. "Even if we don't know everything about where you've been, we know who you are. You don't need to tell us anything for us to understand that."

"Yeah, what he said!" Barty exclaimed with glee, kicking his feet up onto the sofa as he leaned his entire weight on Evan.

“Even before we knew anything about you, we were friends.” Pandora was looking out through a window, seemingly in thought and awfully happy at being so. “In a way, we’ve always been friends, I suppose. When it just works like this.” 

You weren’t always sure you understood what Pandora meant, but this time, you felt it in your heart.

"Sorry love, but you're kind of stuck with us now. Should have sat with someone else on your first day." Dorcas shot you a wink at that, and something in your chest seemed to snap into place.

Even when you were asking an awkward question, the atmosphere never changed – there was no pity here, no judgment, just... kinship.

Friendship.

At last, you let a smile begin to bloom from within you, one which you immediately saw reflected back at you in your five new friends.

"No, actually, I don't think I should have."

[dcxdpdabbles]

Any chance on an update for passion for fashion? The more I read it the weirder I get about my own fashion, and I'm excited to see where I end up lol

Dan's spine jerks into a straight line as if someone had pressed a buzzer to it, sending shockwaves of unease throughout his body. The startling shock is so severe that he drops the needs he holds in his mouth. The metal clacks softly against the kitchen tile, echoing in the silence of the house.

He stands perfectly still, straining his ears for any hints of a threat. His hands are still poised to lift the fabric, but he hears nothing besides the steady bump of his heart, the soft noise of passing cars, and his own breathing. He starts to relax his muscles despite his instincts screaming that something is wrong when he realizes what the silence also means.

The brat wasn't in the house.

Dan knew Danny had been a little upset about the bomb in their chests, starting to become more active, but there wasn't much either of them could do. They haven't found Batman, much less save his humanity, and it seemed that Clockwork would finally end his little game.

Dan hadn't told Danny, but from the very beginning, he knew neither of them would survive this mission. There was no situation in which they would be successful.

How could Dan, a being that has long ago forgotten to be human, save someone's humanity? How could Danny, a child in the eyes of many, know what was needed to keep someone from becoming a monster?

Danny thought Clockwork was a kind god who only wanted the best for the multiverse. Strapping a bomb to their core, non-standing, the boy thought of Clockwork as good. Dan had enough years under his belt as an all-powerful ghost to know not to look at beings of Clockwork's level with expectations of human concepts such as morality.

Yes, Clockwork had stepped in to preserve the timeline, but if he had genuinely cared about the lives lost and the pain Dan had caused, he would have stepped in from the beginning. Even with nearly all life on Earth wiped out by Dan, Clockwork had not moved from his Tower because, despite what humans believed, time did not need them.

Clockwork had been seen before and during humans and likely already knew what life would be like after humans. If he cared about the value of preserving life, he would have never allowed other animals to go extinct, would have stopped tragedies, and maybe would have created a task force to keep others from feeling harm.

But he doesn't.

It's simple; Clockwork was a god of time, not life, and time is never a kind thing. It's not even a cruel thing. It's just...is.

That's why Dan hadn't taken the mission seriously from the very beginning. While Danny was out and about exploring, trying to gather information and leads, he let himself sink into his role as a fashion designer. He devoted all his waking hours—and wasn't that a pain? Having to sleep, eat, and shower again—ugh—to researching, designing, and crafting everything this world had to offer in fashion.

He knew his expiration date was likely coming soon, so Dan chose to use it on something that brought him joy. It's been a long time since he felt ecstatic about anything. He felt an Obsession take root in his soul, and Dan felt content with his impending end.

Why fight for a world they would never see? Dan's family's survival had created a time paradox, wiping his crimes from existence. That was true, but the fact that he remained was a problem. Clockwork had already pulled him out of time, keeping him locked up in the Fenton Thermos for two years, waiting for Dan to vanish.

When he failed to do so, Clockwork realized that the time paradox would be permanent, and if left unchecked, it would slowly grow into a black hole. The Ancient hated dealing with black holes. In Clockwork's own words, they were such a bother to clean.

Dan had to live with the fact that he now knew every black hole was an entire world that had collapsed due to time and that the being of time regarded it with the same importance as mud tracked into his house. He may have destroyed his own world, but at least he cared when he did it.

Danny didn't know that, though. The kid was still too young to really understand how the Ancients worked. He never even questioned what the being had been doing when the last king was running around bringing everything under his tyrannical rule.

Dan hadn't been human in a long time. He had forgotten what it felt like to need to eat, drink, sleep, and, most of all, protect a child's innocence from the reality of war. With each passing day in Gotham, he felt himself reminded, like a forgotten song from his childhood, and the more effort he watched Danny put into finding Batman, the more he realized time was almost up.

He threw himself into this fashion contest because he wanted his last few days to be happy.

Clockwork had even been thoughtful enough to send him an attractive EverBurning, despite nothing coming about it because of his new age. (Though that just made Killer hotter. A man who wasn't a creep with kids was so attractive). Dan hadn't dated much when he went mad, and it would have been nice to explore the options of the Realms, but he was a dead man walking.

He was a bomb ready to explode.

tic tic tic tic

He grimaces, placing a hand over his chest. The timer was reaching its end, and he knew that somewhere out in the city, Danny realized he was in danger, too.

The ticking sped up. It moved so fast against his core that his chest physically ached with each slight twitch. Breathing through his nose- what a gross feeling he can't believe he needed it to survive again- Dan works through the pain.

He stumbles away from the mannequin. It was supposed to be his final piece for the contest. A circus theme.

Something extravagant that you couldn't wear out in the street. He took this to mean more of a costume, like what he saw in those Miss Universal culture costumes.

Dan had been making it a suit, using the iconic circuit red and white pattern with wings. Danny was going to strut to the end of the runway, hold up his wings to display acrobats, and when he moved, it would appear as if the preforms would be flying across his back.

It involved a lot of carefully placed reflect threads and tricks of the yes, but he managed to pull it off; it would be perfection. He had been excited about the big reveal

Dan glanced around his home, his eyes ranking over the fabrics and hastily drawn designs tapped to the walls. It had become a safe haven, a comfortable nest that he knew would one day be a grave, but now that the time had come, he was sad this would be his last sight.

tic tic tic tic

Danny was likely out there trying to run from the inevitable. Dan could picture him grabbing his chest and begging the bomb to stop. He would tease the boy if it wasn't in such poor taste.

Dan looks back at his unfinished masterpiece. A sense of dread and regret pools in his stomach, making his arms feel heavy. He still forces himself to pick up his needle and goes back to threading.

His fingers were no longer steady; they shook far too much, but he pushed through the sluggish feeling and carefully added more lines to the little boy he had added. He heard the final judge was once an acrobat with his family.

He figured he could use some personal points with him. A sad smirk graces his lips as the ticking gets louder and louder, drowning out the sound of his human heart. A wave of fear rocks him nearly off his feet.

Only when the screaming starts does he realize it wasn't just his human body being annoying and inconvenient with its emotional outburst. Instead, the feeling of his legs trembling was due to his house being rocked as someone had broken his door by smashing through it.

Whoever they were also seemed to have gotten a good chunk of the wall. It left a massive hole in his home, which he just knew Danny would find a way to blame him for.

Hey, at least avoiding the stupid lecture from the actual kid was one positive of his pending death!

Dan doesn't bother waving away the dust that kicks up, even if his human eyes burn with the urge to slam them close.

He stays rooted to his spot, half glancing over his shoulder as a tall, muscular man stands from the rumble. Besides the dust that covers him, the stranger doesn't seem to be affected by running through solid walls- Dan was pretty sure the house Clockwork gifted them was so old that it was built of pure bricks.

Or maybe his luchador mask was hiding a grimace of pain.

He's standing in the kitchen, meaning he has a perfect view of the living room and the stranger glancing around. Dan could keep watching him, rush out, and fight the idiot disrespecting their haunt and him, but what use would that be? There was no need to follow ghost traditions.

He was dying very soon, and he wanted to finish the suit's wings.

Dan turns back to his work, ignoring the approaching footsteps. There is a soft gasp as the home invader stands behind him, saying nothing as Dan carefully threads one, two, or three more lines. The silence is loaded, heavy with an emotion he has no mental capacity to understand.

The silence stretches on for a few minutes as Dan threads more until the stranger clears his throat pointingly.

Without turning around, Dan scoffs, "Unless you're about to apologize for breaking my house, shut the hell up."

"I thought you were in danger," the man huffs as if embarrassed and amused in equal parts. "I wasn't really thinking when I broke down the wall."

"Makes sense. You look like the kind of man that doesn't think too often." Dan acknowledges with a head nod.

The luchador laughs heartily. "You have your mother's sharp tongue."

"What do you know about my mother?"

Another long pause, just enough for Dan's chest to ache with another tidal wave of ticking as if the bomb wanted him to know it was attached to his very soul. He rocks slightly to the side, his vision going blurry, but he snaps his head back to his work. He needs to finish.

"I know she was the only woman I ever loved, and I should have gone back for her."  The Spanish catches Dan off guard. He's gotten so used to only speaking that language with Danny, as he rarely left his house, and at the Fashion competitions, they were the only Spanish speakers.

Pausing in his work, he twists around to study the Luchador, only to realize the man has walked closer. He was unnecessarily close, and if Dan were a lesser man, he would have stepped back.

But Dan hadn't been a mere man in the last two decades, so he stood his ground. A hint of pride blooms in the masked man's eyes as he frowns at him.

He tilts his head back, staring upwards at the man towering over him, at least three heads taller than Dan—though that would have been different if he were still in his original body. The stranger would only be one head taller.

"Who are you?" Dan demands.

"My name is Bane." The man reveals with gusto that hearing a four-letter name was a great honor. "And I am your father."

Dan stares momentarily, thinking the words are so stupid that he doesn't know what else to do. Bane mistakes his silence for a shock because he starts telling an insane story of being born to serve his father's life sentence in prison, growing up in prison, and being forced to undergo experiments with a drug called Venom.

How Bane broke out of the prison and killed anyone in his way on the way out in his late teens. He survived on the streets, dodging bounty hunters and the poison of Santa Prisca's general populace.

Until he encountered a young, untrained witch who could take him down with her pitiful spells that relied on death magic. She only had one spell book and half the time, the spells didn't even work, but she never let that stop her, using her fists and metal pipe when her spells failed. The two join forces to take down the prison and their labs permanently.

Bane did it for revenge for his childhood they stole from him, and the witch did it to try and find her brother, who went missing years ago. They found him before Venom could be pumped into his system, and the three lived together for a few years until the brother escaped to America after they got into trouble with someone far more dangerous than a corrupted scientist and prison.

Bane followed a few years after, breaking the young witch's heart in a foolish effort to make something bigger of himself. He had asked her to marry him and go with him to America, but she had refused because she had learned he was going to the States to create a crime empire. She was tired of evil men bringing their crimes into her life.

He found out much later he left her alone pregnant with a bounty higher than anyone else on that island. To protect her children, she vanished.

"I tried to go back," Bane whispers. "I tried to find her, make it up to her. Even if she would not marry me, at least bring her somewhere safe. By the time I was able to pick up her tail, it was too late. She was gone. All that was left of her were her two twin sons. She gave her life to make sure you got here safely. I didn't approach you because she also didn't want my dirty work to ruin your lives."

Dan holds up a hand, voice in a flat, deadpan, " Wow, that's so sad. You have the wrong pair of twins."

Bane shakes his head. "I understand you find it hard to believe. But I know your mother was Marina, just as you are mine."

"Her name was Madeline." Dan corrected with a scoff, "She wasn't some damsel in distress that you're painting her out to be. She could kick your ass."

Bane laughs almost sadly. "She always did."

Right.

"Look, I have a suit I need to finish, so unless you have a DNA test to prove your story, I'm going to-"

"I already checked our DNA." Bane cuts him off, stepping closer. "I can show it to you later. But for now, we have to go. Your brother was taken this afternoon, and it's not safe-"

Dan reels back a fist, letting it fly straight into Bane's chin. The man flies back, releasing a grunt of pain when he slams against another wall- causing it to crumble. Good thing he was dying. It would be such to be homeless. He huffs out a breath, twisting back to his suit.

He should include more metallic shimmering red fabric instead of a bright shade of red. He pinches a roll between his fingers, squinting down at it when he feels something stab him in the neck.

"I'm sorry. I failed Marina once. I won't do it again." Bane says somewhere to his left. Dan doesn't have time to respond before he feels a liquid fire pushed through his veins.

He glances at the needle sticking out of his neck with eerie calm. "Rude."

His world turns black as the ticking in his chest comes to a scorching stop. Somewhere, an Ancient smiles as his game pieces fall into place for the final curtain call.

[kikixreverie]

Your boys

Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x Female reader

Summary - The war has been a brutal reality check for you in more ways than one, the first being that life is far more fragile than you thought, and the second that you were deeply in love with not one… but both of your best friends.

Word count - 8k

Warnings - (18+) Smut, threesome, oral sex, handjob, mentions of war and homophobia.

A/N - Hi, im still here kinda. Suffered a pretty rough, year long writers block and then was finally able to edit this one shot I wrote ages ago. I hope you enjoy it and all its filth.

________________________________

The half-empty bar rings with laughter and the clinking of glasses as its patrons drown out their sorrows with liquor, a temporary haven for those seeking distraction from the heartlessness they've seen in the past few years. The smoke in the air was thick, but better than what you were used to, the scent of tobacco, not fire out on the field, though it lingers in your nose all the same. 

The music, a familiar jazz tune carries through that thickened air, paired with deep laughter from rowdy men trying to ignore the sickening sense of dread they all pretend not to feel. Your attention however, is divided. Humming softly to the tune you can only half remember, your focus stays fixed on him—Bucky Barnes, gazing from afar at his wide, mirthful grin, those blue eyes of his reflecting the low lighting of the bar as he sips at yet another beer. 

You watch as Steve walks over to rejoin them, more drinks in his hands which he passes to the surrounding men with a nod, which they each take from him, too distracted with their chatter to thank him. Bucky chuckles, shifting back from the group to say something to Steve, a sly grin gracing his lips, smirking as Steve laughs softly at his joke, sadly too far away for you to be in on it.

You get lost in the sight of the men you've known far longer than you haven't, and have seen sink into themselves more and more in recent years, weathered by war, and yet, beneath the surface, your heart can still manage to find a lesser problem to dwell on—feelings you never even asked for becoming even more known to you the more you watch them, both so pretty. They’d always been pretty.

"Come here often?" 

You sigh at the unexpected voice, an instinctual reaction at this point, and regretfully you looked away from the two men, staring down at your glass for a moment before you tilted your head to the left and eyed her with fake annoyance, staring deadpan at the mischievous smirk playing on her red lips. You both know she caught you staring.

You look down at your drink again, watching the amber liquid swirl in the glass as you lift it to take another sip and wince, "No, should I?" 

Her smirk grows wider, resting her elbow on the sticky bar top. She shrugs, "Depends what you're here for."

You pause for a few seconds, squinting at her as if flicking through the possible reasons to be in this dingy bar, other than an easy escape from the war outside. "Alcohol?" You ask, raising a brow. The only reason you were in this bar would be for Bucky and Steve. 

"Ah, well in that case, no. The beer here is watered-down and overpriced." She quips, clinking her glass with yours before taking the seat beside you.

"Oh, that explains it." You respond, sighing dramatically as you take a swig from your glass. Peggy hums softly, her fingertips drifting over the lip of her glass. You can feel her eyes on you, as usual, watching, assessing the situation, and you take a risky glance at her, slightly apprehensive, not looking forward to the way she's going to read you like a goddamn book. "What?"

"Why are you over here, all by yourself?" She asks, her head tilted with curiosity.

You take pause at her question, setting your drink back down with a sigh, gaze drifting back over to the group of men talking loudly with warm grins on their faces, all the happiest you'd seen them in weeks if not months... actually years. 

"I don't know, I just needed some time alone I guess." You shrug, which immediately earns you a disbelieving scoff.

"Bullshit, the one thing no sergeant would want at a time like this is to be alone. It's a tough job, we all survive on these rare few moments when we get to feel some resemblance of normal. Now tell me why you're sitting here alone."

You don't respond for a long moment, eyes flicking over to your childhood best friends again, as they often do when you find yourself in any room with them. "I'm just in my head. I can't stop thinking about what could happen... and what will. I just- I wish I could go back just for a moment, just to remember what it was like before everything went to shit. I'm sick of thinking the worst every time it falls quiet." 

She listens quietly, then nods, her hand moving to your arm to give a reassuring squeeze, "I think we all understand that feeling." 

You nod too, chewing nervously on your lower lip, feeling that sinking feeling like you've ruined the small moment of fun you’d been granted by taking notice of those anxious thoughts. Bucky's hand rests on Steve's shoulder as he talks into his ear, his lips curling up as he laughs through his own words, Steve blushing beside him, shaking his head and looking down at the floor.

"I'd give anything to go back." You whisper, eyes glued to them, thinking about the times Bucky would drag both you and Steve out dancing with him, and Steve would always step on your feet, and then apologise with pink cheeks each time as you reassured him you lost sensation in them two songs ago. 

"I'm guessing you're talking about your boys." Responds Peggy and you nod before your eyebrows furrow, turning to her quickly with a confused frown on your face.

"My boys?" You repeat, ignoring how the notion of it makes you feel, because it just sounds completely ridiculous - and yes, they are your boys.

"Yes. I mean, they are your closest friends, aren't they?" She laughs, and you give your sad attempt at a normal laugh back to her. 

"Yeah, of course. We've been best friends since we were kids." You say back, cringing at your awkwardness and sipping on your drink to try hide it. 

It falls silent for a moment, which was a nice respite to the conversation that was making you anxious enough. Peggy obviously breaks it again. "You miss them." 

It wasn't a question, so you don’t answer, just stare down silently at your glass, swallowing the lump in your throat, that anxiety just getting worse, weighing you down onto your seat. You nod because it's true. With how hectic and scary the past few years have been, all three of you have changed in some way, and you've not had time to get to know those differences. You'd barely spoken to them about anything other than mission plans in weeks, everyone just more than eager to win this war and get home.

"Go talk to them, I'm sure they miss you too." Peggy offers softly, patting your shoulder again before giving you a smile. She slips off her chair, finally leaving you with your thoughts, walking across the bar to sit with the howling commandos with a half-empty drink in her hand, saluting the very boys you were just talking about, and you fight to ignore the stupid jealousy you feel when they both return the gesture to the gorgeous woman.

You’re in way over your head.

You’d hate to admit it, but she’s right, you miss them, very, very much. Things haven't been the same since the war started, and you know it'd be naive to think it will ever go back to how it was. You feel that breath-stealing sadness whenever you look at Steve, a feeling you know is mutual for Bucky too. You still don't always recognise him when he's facing away from you, searching in a crowd for a small, delicate Steve that no longer exists, before you remember the beast of a man he'd become and feel a different kind of warm flutter when you see him. 

Bucky is different too, quieter, rougher around the edges, darker. You miss that boyish charm of his, the easygoing, easy-loving James Barnes everyone knew. He always wore his heart on his sleeve, but he guards it now, keeps it locked away for safekeeping. He barely spoke for weeks after Steve got him out of that place, barely ate. You haven’t seen him cry in months either, which is somehow much more worrying than if he were to break down into tears each night like a lot of the boys do in secret. 

It hurts when you think back to before, a time when the three of you were so close you spent most nights sleeping at each other's houses, a time when your biggest worry was that the neighbours were gossiping about your 'morals', despite how many times Bucky reminded you that the old lady next door's opinion shouldn't matter to you. 

But it did. Sometimes even you worried about your 'morals', a socially-expected guilt clouding the thoughts you'd have about them, both of them. It's always been more. A part of you always knew there was a deeper understanding the three of you had for each other, like how soulmates would be described in the romance books you had read, only it couldn't be so easy that you were in love with one of your best friends, it had to be both.

A person sits beside you again, and you roll your eyes with a small smile, turning towards them and expecting it to be Peggy back to drag you over to everybody else, but you quickly drop the expression at the sight of a man you had never seen before, smiling at you as if you'd invited him to sit there.

"Come here often?" The man asks, not sounding the slightest bit ironic, as amusing as that is for you. You hide your laugh behind your almost empty glass, which doesn’t help you one bit seeing as the glass is clear. You resort to biting your cheek when he just stares back expectantly, apparently waiting for you to swoon and faint into his arms. 

You shake your head, reminding yourself to definitely not come here often. "No, sorry." You respond, mentally scolding yourself for apologising for no reason, and then scolding yourself for scolding yourself. Can he just fuck off maybe?

"That's okay. Pretty dame like you in a bar like this, you here with anyone?" He sounds like Bucky, you think to yourself, only its not charming one bit when this stranger calls your a ‘dame’. He moves closer to you, his arm almost touching yours, which was immediately enough for you to shift away, feeling uncomfortable and annoyed that he was in your space. You scoff, deciding you've seen far too much to give a shit about upsetting some creepy guy in a bar. You open your mouth to shut him down.

"Yeah, she's with us." 

For fucks sake why can't I do the fun part? 

You already know it’s Steve's voice, strong with that Brooklyn accent, even stronger with the distaste in his voice. You don’t turn to look at him, still trying to keep the distance between you and the guy who’s staring wide-eyed up at Captain America.

"Maybe go and bother someone else." Bucky adds, moving in behind the guy, his tone much less polite than the Captain's.

The man doesn’t say a word, much to your amusement, just puts his head down and stands, walking away, probably going to find some other poor woman to bother, or nurse a stronger drink and lick his wounds.

They sit either side of you, Bucky's hand moving to your back. "You alright, doll?" 

You sigh and nod, rubbing your forehead and smiling softly at him "I'm fine, Buck. You know I could've easily scared him away." 

Bucky nods, smirking softly. He's seen you shut down many a guy before the war,

"I know, just making sure." 

It falls silent for a moment, Bucky doesn't break eye contact with you and you can't bring yourself to do it for him, his gaze soft and inviting, almost as distracting as the way he wets his lower lip the way he often does. 

"Why are you sittin' over here?" Steve asks, and it finally draws you to look away from Bucky, clearing your throat before turning to Steve on your left.

"Just lost in thought I guess." You respond with a shrug, deciding not to disclose the fact that you were lost in thought about them, as per usual.

Steves cheeks remain a little pink and you don’t get why, wondering if he had noticed the weird staring going on between you and Bucky, which only makes you blush just the same in embarrassment. 

"Thinking 'bout what, doll?" Bucky presses, his warm breath brushing against your shoulder. You don't let yourself look at him again, staring straight ahead as your stomach flutters with nerves and something else you don't want to think about yet.

You shrug, breathless as Steve inches slightly closer to you too, as if he and Bucky had some nefarious plan to make you want them impossibly more, his shoulder pressing against yours. 

"I don't know. Just lost in thought about... how bad the beer is." You say, sheepish at your stupid response, but Steve laughs sweetly, which only makes you smile. 

Bucky only hums in response though and you look over at him again, that enticing look in his eyes, "How about we get out of here? Just us three, we can swing it like old times, got a fairly decent bottle of whiskey in my room that's waiting to be drank." 

You inhale softly in surprise and excitement. It certainly wouldn't be the first time the three of you had gotten drunk together alone, but it's been a while, and for some reason, it seemed like something different now, something new.

You glance over at Steve to see him waiting for your response, seemingly already aware of Bucky's idea, so you nod, not trusting yourself to speak and not look stupid.

You all leave the bar together after gathering your things, purposefully ignoring the smirk Peggy gives you as you walk past, just wanting to get out of the stuffy bar and away from the noise for a while.

It was a silent taxi ride the whole way back to the hotel you were all currently staying at, though not awkward. You sat between the two men, Bucky's thigh pressed against yours while you and Steve sit shoulder to shoulder. 

You'd always thought that taxis were fairly spacious until you had to share one with a super-soldier and James Buchanan Barnes.

Steve pays the taxi driver with the best tip he can afford and soon enough you were all piling into Bucky's room. 

You sigh when you walk through the door, not giving a second to hesitate to go to the bed, falling forward with another sigh as you stretch out across the mattress, kicking off your uncomfortable shoes and letting them hit the floor with a soft thud. It wasn’t often you had access to an actual bed.

You can hear Bucky and Steve laughing as they take off their jackets, which you didn't have the nerve to watch them do.

"Comfy?" Steve asks, walking over to the small radio on the bedside table and switching through the channels till he found some decent music to have on quietly in the background. 

You nod, humming softly and closing your eyes, "You try wearing heels for a whole night only 3 days after getting off the field." 

Bucky sits beside you on the bed, looking down at you as you hesitantly peek your eyes open to look at him.

"Can't imagine the pain, doll. Want a foot rub?" He teases, a lopsided smirk playing on lips.

You scoff in response, laughing softly and definitely not considering his most likely joking offer. Instead of putting your sore feet on his lap, you just blush and sit up, shoving at his broad shoulder. "Shut up. Where's that decent whiskey you promised, hm?"

He laughs, picking something up off the floor from beside the bed and holding up a full bottle, passing it to you as he takes a glass from the bedside table near him, holding it out for you to pour the liquid into it. 

"Hey guys, I'm gonna go change, then I'll be back, okay?" Says Steve, a smile on his face as he walks back towards the door, and you and James both nod, watching the tall man duck slightly through the doorway and leave room gently shutting the door behind him.

Its comfortably quiet in the hotel room, though the atmosphere slightly different. You sip at the strong-tasting, barely decent whiskey, the liquid burning its way down your throat to settle in your stomach, warm and familiar.

Your gaze again drifts to him, watching over the rim of your glass as Bucky moves to sit against the bed frame after pouring his own drink, shoes kicked to the floor, watching you right back, his head resting against the dark wooden frame, a soft look on his handsome face. A strand of his dark hair falls onto his forehead, and you follow it like an arrow pointing down to the white shirt he's wearing, the top few buttons undone as some sick way to punish you even further.

"You're always so sweet on him." He murmurs quietly, breaking the silence. He doesn’t sound one bit jealous, only fond, his head tilted slightly, his tongue casually dragging across his lower lip.

"Aren't we both?" You tilt your head at him as you ask the question. It feels serious, despite the sweetness of his smile, theres something more hidden in the words, but neither of you are ready to say something like that out loud, the denial comfortable for a moment longer.

He goes quiet again, chewing on his lip as he stares down at the bed sheets, sighing softly. "I guess it's hard not to be. I know he's all tall and macho now," He pauses to huff a laugh, you watching and listening quietly and intently, him looking up to the ceiling as he continues, the smile fading to something softer, "But he's still Stevie."

A hint of a smile pulls at your lips, and you nod, holding your drink up to not spill anything as you shuffle over on your knees to sit beside him against the headboard, huffing softly at the movement, then propping up pillows behind you to be more comfortable as Bucky watches with an amused smile.

"And you're still Buck." You add once you’re settled, looking at his gorgeous face, your chin tilted upwards, and his down. He swallows softly, and you notice the movement of it, his adams apple moving in a distracting way that you swear makes you feel thirsty, so you take another sip of your drink, hoping it will settle the feeling it obviously wont.

"You sure about that?" He asks, his eyes flicking down, watching the whiskey swirl in his glass, lips set in something closer to a frown now. You know he's hurting, even if he hasn't felt ready to confide in you about it yet.

"Very." He looks at you when you say it, and you hold his gaze this time, his stare so intense, eyes so blue, lips so pink. 

It takes your dumb, denial-stuck mind a moment longer to realise that you were looking down at his lips and that he was looking at yours at the same time, and there was no actual effort to either of you leaning closer, just a magnetism and a feeling spreading through your chest and butterfly filled stomach that you don’t even question it, don’t think once about the consequences, and technically its Bucky that ends up closing the tiny gap you’d made for him to do so, putting his glass down at the bedside table closest to him as his soft, warm lips make contact, eyes drifting closed,his hand then reaching across you and taking your glass too placing it down.

With his hands free, they move to cup your face, lips moving against yours, the kiss soft and sweet as your fingers drift up to the nape of his neck, his right hand reaching down for your thigh, grabbing flesh and trying to pull you closer as your lips move faster, a realisation that this kiss can’t last forever and you both swear you need it to.

It shifts from sweet and soft, to passionate and fast-moving, an almost desperate feeling urging you to press closer, your lips coaxing Bucky's to open as his hands grip your skin, your hips, waist, thighs. You just want to taste him, just like you'd always dreamed of doing. It barely feels real, but you barely think about it when you slide your tongue against his lips and earn yourself a soft, heated groan in response.

The booze doesn’t matter, you were drunk on him, butterflies in your stomach, heart hammering in your chest, an ache forming between your legs.

You'd never experienced a kiss like this before, never this intense desperation, so needy for more, clutching at eachother and shifting on the bed, breathing against his cheek.

Time is far lost to you both, only warm skin and hot mouths and soft lips, but the noise at the door breaks through the goodness of the moment, and you and Bucky quickly pull away from each other, panting for air as your heart hammers in your chest. Steve stands at the door wide-eyed.

Bucky licks his lips wordlessly as he tries to calm himself down, sighing and pushing his hair back, looking down at the bedsheets. 

"Steve?" You ask when he doesn’t say anything, anxiety clouding the heated memory replaying of the kiss, as you wait for any reaction from Steve.

Steve couldn’t look more shocked, unable to look either of you in the eye, standing sheepishly at the door as he flushes pink.

"Sorry." He mutters, reaching for the door handle and making his turn to leave, and your heart lurches, sitting up to stop him, but Bucky speaks up before you can remember what words are. 

"Steve." He says softly, and the blonde pauses, looking over at Bucky and waiting to be chastised for entering the room without knocking, but Bucky only offers a small, hesitant smile, "C'mere." 

Poor Steve stands frozen for a while, face only getting redder as you and Bucky stare back at him, the image of the two of you kissing, Bucky's hand squeezing your bare thigh under your dress, yours tugging on his hair, its heavy in the forefront of his mind, and it sets something off in his stomach, something he likes the feeling of.

Bucky gesturesfor him to sit on the bed with them and slowly, Steve does. 

"I didn't mean to-" Steve begins, but Bucky cut him off and you watch dumbly as he handles the situation.

"It's okay." He assures, falling silent for a moment as he tries to find the words to say what he really wanted to, "We're all friends, right? It shouldn't be awkward." 

It’s actually incredibly awkward, but denial was a much easier option, and so you simply avoid eye contact with either of them as you think you’re so good at doing, as you reached over Bucky for your drink again, taking a long sip of the alcohol, focusing on the burn in your throat rather than the ache between your thighs.

"Yeah," Steve responds, sounding as breathless as you feel.

"Maybe-" Bucky stops himself, and you lookover at him, waiting with bated breath for him to say 'Maybe we should just forget it ever happened' but his mind goes elsewhere, "Maybe you two should kiss. You know... make it even." 

The tension in the room couldn’t be any thicker, and so completely silent, not a breath between you. You chance a risky glance at Steve and he stares straight at Bucky, mouth agape, eyes wide.

You feel like you need to say something, feel like you’re fighting between your mind, your heart, and your… The nerve builds up quick and words rush out of your mouth, just needing to escape this awkwardness, "Bucky, I don't think Steve would-" 

"C'mon, I'm not blind, I see the way you two look at each other. You're telling me neither of you is at least a tiny bit curious what it would be like?" Bucky cuts you off, looking between you and Steve with a raised brow, "Don't feel forced to do anything, of course. Just... I don't know... Think about it?"

Oh, you’re thinking about it, you have been thinking about it, for years, in fact you’re imagining it in way too much detail, but acting on it like this, rather than a random, heated frenzy like with Bucky, is much more nerve-wracking.

Its when you risk a glance at Steve that the doubts starts to slip away slightly. its so painstakingly obvious, the blush on his face, the way he can’t look you in the eye and he seemed just as deep in thought as you. You remind yourself who you're with, though much taller now, he’s still Stevie. Your teeth catch your lip, nerves fading enough that you feel less awkward and more anticipating. It already feels like it's the end of the world anyway, actions tend to feel much less consequential. 

"I don't know, Steve..." You start, watching with rising butterflies as he looks over at you, his lips parted, "Maybe he's right."

James grins like you’ve joined the dark side, smirking down at his glass, just listening to you shift into a second devil on Stevie’s shoulder.

"P-pardon?" He almost whispers, and you smile softly, still polite Stevie.

"Maybe we should kiss." You manoeuvre onto your knees, and James wordlessly takes your drink again, placing it back down and inhaling softly, leaning back against the bed frame again and just watching quietly. Steve breathes in, watching you move closer. "Only if you want to, of course." You add for good measure, and Steve gulps, lips parting as he looks over at Bucky, as if for reassurance, Bucky just stares back. You crawl over, settling in front of him, "Do you want to?"

He takes another moment, before softly, he nods, taking a deep breath. 

You look into his eyes, scooting close enough for your thigh to touch his, and you reach for his broad shoulders, biting your lip softly. You can’t quite wrap your head around the idea of kissing either of them ever, especially not both... in front of each other in the time span of five minutes... but there’s no room for regret, just you and your boys...

Your hand glides over to his face, holding his jaw softly as you tilt his head down to you, pressing your lips against his.

This kiss was softer, slower. You knew Steve had kissed before, you were the one who heartbreakingly caught him with not one, but two USO girls, but hes certainly not as experienced as Bucky, nervous and shy, so you stay as gentle as possible, not pushing him to go any further than the gentle touch of your lips until he presses for more, tentative, but he follows your lead, his right hand hovering over your waist before he pulls it away, and you kiss him once more before breaking the contact. You can tell how nervous he still is. 

The room is still as you and Steve pull away from each other, Steve's focus stuck on you as you sit back slightly, looking over at Bucky, as your lips tingle from the kiss, curious to see his reaction, and the sight of him makes your stomach flip.

He sits rested back against the headboard again, legs splayed out in front of him as he watches the two of you with a clearly lustful gaze, his lower lip caught between his teeth, this dark desperation in his eyes, and its like you can read the dirty thoughts clouding his mind.

You don’t think at all when the words left your mouth, but they do, "Your turn."

Buckys lips part, eyes widening slightly and Steve takes an audible breath from beside you.

"What?" The blonde gulps.

You swallow your nerves again, Bucky was right, he could see the way you and Steve look at each other, because you've always looked at each other that way, just like you and Bucky look at each other, just like Bucky and Steve.

It's something that none of you had ever addressed until now, something you'd never let yourselves act upon, but who cares what people think at this point, who cares where this could lead you. If the war has given anything but trauma to you, it's shown you how fucking fragile life is, how much you'd regret it if you never acted upon these feelings, how much they'd regret it.

"You two should make it even, right?"

Steve stares at you, not letting his gaze drift to Bucky, but Bucky stares right at him, something intense in his eyes, something between realisation and surrender, and its clear that he’s waiting for Steve to reject it, to reject him, to wrinkle his nose at the disgusting notion of a man kissing another man, just as everybody else would do, but Bucky knows that wasn't a fair assumption to make about the golden-hearted man he knows their Stevie to be. He still waits though, preparing himself to have to have to take the rejection.

"I-" Steve starts, the very same worries as Bucky filling his head.

"Steve, aren't you at least a tiny bit curious?" You ask gently, using Bucky's previous words in hopes of lightening the mood slightly, which seems to work when Steve huffs a small laugh, though he gives no response. 

You look at Bucky, seeing the heartbreaking disappointment and acceptance in his eyes. You nudge his foot, giving him a soft smile of encouragement when he looks up at you.

He gives you a small smile back, before looking over at Steve, wetting his lips.

"Stevie." He almost whispers his name, and his gaze is soft when it meets Steve’s, "Come here." 

Steve decides not to give himself the chance to hesitate, moving towards Bucky before he can think about what he’s doing, and Bucky leans forward to meet him halfway, his palm sliding across his cheek, thumb smoothing along the skin before he closes the space and Bucky and Steve are kissing right in front of you. 

Its gentle for a few seconds, hesitant on both parts before Steve’s reaching out, hands clutching the material of Bucky's shirt, pulling him forward, pulling him closer. 

Their kiss was rougher, all tongue and teeth and the sight was a lot to try to handle, all you could really do was squeeze your thighs together and enjoy the sight of your two favourite boys, enjoying how eachother kiss. 

Bucky detaches his mouth from Steve's to meet your eye, pulling you closer as his hand holds the side of your neck.

He kisses you, open-mouthed and needy as his tongue glides across your lip, steve groaning softly at the sight, his hand once again hovering over the curve of your waist.

"It's okay, Steve." You murmur against Bucky's lips before you pull back to look at Steve, gripping his hand with your own and guiding him to touch you where he had wanted to, "You can touch me. You can touch me anywhere you'd like. Both of you." 

"Fuckin’ Christ, doll." Bucky sighs, lips mouthing across your jaw, his head dipping lower to kiss your neck, "You want that huh? Want both of us to touch you?" 

You nod as you kiss Steve, Bucky giving you a hickey just below your ear like a goddamn teenager. Bucky makes his way to Steve's neck then, curious to what noises he could pull from Captain America himself, and he chuckles against Steve's neck when he sighs softly into your mouth, as sensitive and worked up as Bucky had always wondered he'd be. 

When Bucky and Steve start kissing again, you take the opportunity to catch your breath, sitting back for a moment to watch the way Bucky pushes Steve down against the mattress, everything escalating so quick and yet feeling exactly like the way it should be. He adjusts his hips over Steve, pressing against him, and Steve groans softly, his rising up to meet bucky’s.

You bite your lip at the sight, your hand almost subconsciously sliding between your thighs, applying slight pressure against your underwear as your thighs squeeze together again. 

It just feels so right, and your body is reacting like it never has before, all reservations out of the window when you fingers press against your clit ever so slightly, breath catching when Bucky starts talking.

"Y'see that Stevie? Look how desperate our girl is for us. She just has to touch herself, doesn't she? Think we should help her out?" He murmurs, speaking the words into Steve's ear, though saying them loud enough for you to hear them too, and Steve nods quickly, no more hesitation, panting for breath, lips a pretty shade of kissed.

Our girl. 

"God, yes." Steve answers.

Their attention turns to you, Bucky with that mischievous, knowing glint in his eye, "Why don't you help her out of that dress, Stevie."

Steve nods, following orders like this was a part of his training, moving closer towards you, more confident though a bit sheepish.

"Go on, honey." You say to him, kissing his jaw as his fingers brush against the zipper at the back of the dress. He somehow manages to unzip you as slow as physically possible, fingers dusting along your back in a way that brings on a shiver. He finally pulls the dress off over your head and Bucky gives a low whistle at the sight of you, their pretty lady just in her undergarments.

Your head tilts back when Bucky leans towards you and kisses your collarbone, the kisses trailing lower and lower until he was kissing across the tops of your breasts. You sigh at the sensation, loving the attention on you but it doesn’t seem vert fair you’re in your bra and panties only and these two were fully dressed. You tug at both Steve and Bucky's shirts until they get the hint and both start pulling them off, Steve's going over his head while you help Bucky undo the buttons on his. 

From then on the clothes seem to keep coming, and you chuckle softly as Steve helps Bucky unbuckle his belt and pull his pants off. It doesn't take long before they're both left in only their underwear, and neither you nor Bucky give Steve the chance to blush or second guess anything when you lean towards him, kissing his shoulder and Bucky kissing his lips. 

You'd think it would be overwhelming, but god it just feels so right. 

You hum as fingers drift across you back to the clasp of your bra, Bucky looking at you, waiting for your permission, which you quickly give, nodding your head breathlessly before he quickly undoes the clasp, helping you out of the straps and then finally pulling the bra away. 

"Fu-" Steve stops himself, staring down at your uncovered breasts, your peaked nipples, soft pretty skin, waiting desperately to be touched and he forces himself to close his eyes, convinced for a second that that was it, he was going to come right here and now in his briefs. Bucky chuckles, that cheeky grin on his face as he dips his head and kisses his way across your now bare chest, cupping your left breast gently and mouthing over your nipple, smirking as your fingers thread through his hair, swirling his tongue.

"I think we're corrupting our sweet little Stevie, love," Bucky murmurs, and you hum back at him, looking over at the blonde who sits in amusing deep concentration, trying desperately hard not to lose himself. 

"I don't know, Buck. I reckon Stevie's much less innocent than you think. Plus, he's not so little anymore..." You tease, knowing he’s listening, so you reach over, your palm against Steve's thigh, "Why don't you show us, honey? Get out of that head of yours, and come play with me and Buck."

Even Bucky groans at that, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as he continues to kiss you with a bit more hunger now.

Steve looks wrecked already, opening his eyes to look down at the two of you, skin against skin, waiting for him to come back to you. 

"Why don't you tell us what you want, Steve?" You ask him, moaning softly when Bucky rubs his thumb over one of your nipples.

"I want.." He licks his lips, looking down your body, eyes lingering on the one place you’re still covered, "I want to touch you." 

"Then touch me, Stevie." You respond and his hand drifts slowly to your thigh, Bucky still busy paying attention to your chest.

Steve's fingertips brush against the edge of your underwear, looking up at you for reassurance, "Even here?"

You sigh when Bucky grazes his teeth across your skin, tugging on his hair, "Especially there."

"Go on, Steve, I think she's still a bit overdressed," Bucky adds, encouraging him to strip you of your final layer, and Steve does so, feeling his cock throb as your bare pussy comes into view. 

You part your legs for him, your inner thighs already showing how wet you are, waiting patiently for someone to finally touch you where you needed most, and when Steve brushes his fingers through your folds, tentatively exploring, nudging against your swollen clit as he did so, you moan openly. 

Bucky leans back, looking down at you laid out across the mattress, completely bare beneath them as you lift your hips to meet Steve's hand, needing more pressure. Bucky reaches down for Steve's hand, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth as he assists him. 

"Touch her right here with more pressure. Make small circles." Bucky directs, and Steve gladly follows the instructions given, watching as you get more and more breathless as he touches you, his fingers getting covered in your slick as you whimper softly, "Just like that, Steve."

Steve bites his lip at Bucky praising him like that, his cock throbbing so hard in his briefs as he focuses on trying to make you feel good, before Bucky takes a hold of Steve's fingers, guiding them lower and lower until they were sliding into you. You gasp softly, head tilting back at the slight relief of no longer being empty, but you’re still no way near full, needing more and more, still, you enjoy this, shifting your hips as Bucky instructs Steve to curl his fingers. 

A pretty sounding moan slips from your open mouth when Bucky really starts participating, leaning on one arm as the other hand moves down to you, his thumb almost softly rubbing over your clit, watching in gentle awe and focus as him and Steve’s hands take good care of you, Steve's two fingers fucking into you as Bucky builds a steady rhythm on your clit. It doesn’t take long of the repeated pattern before your hips roll forward unknowingly, getting closer and closer to coming, the heat in your body rising, every nerve tingling... so close.

"James, I'm-- Fuck, Stevie." You moan, enjoying having two names to beg to, feeling your body tighten up as they both continue until you’re over the edge, coming on your best friend's fingers, your body vibrating as they ease you through the strong orgasm, Bucky not stopping until you reach down and gently move his hand away, bordering on overstimulation as your body becomes overly sensitive. 

"Holy fuck." Steve murmurs, and Bucky laughs at him, nudging his arm.

"Language." He teases. 

"Shut up, punk." Replies Steve, pushing Bucky’s shoulder back. You lay there catching your breath, humming with a gentle smirk as you watch them act so casual after both giving you the best orgasm of your life, so far.

"God, just make out already." You joke, grinning at the two, your body relaxed, and Bucky gives you a look as you sit up. 

"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you." He nips at your shoulder, and you roll your eyes playfully, enjoying seeing him like this again, the happiest and most like himself you'd seen him in weeks, "Good, thing I'd like that too. Steve?" 

Steve looks over at Bucky, nodding and moving closer to him, kissing softly.

You give yourself a moment to gather yourself, catching your breath, relaxing in the afterglow of the first orgasm you’ve had in a while, admiring them for a short while, and then eventually joining them, kissing across Bucky's shoulder, raking your nails through Steve's hair. 

"Think Stevie's ever had someone's mouth on him before?" You murmur into Bucky's ear, feeling pride in the sigh he gives in response, pulling away from Steve's mouth, humming against your skin as he leans into you, head laid back against your shoulder, nose tucked against your neck.

Steve just couldn’t stop staring, his erection straining against his underwear, both of you watching him with those eyes. None of it feels quite real, like it’s all too good to be true, yet so much better than he imagined. He groans softly when Bucky moves his hand down, watching him as he presses his palm against his cock over the fabric.

"How 'bout it, Stevie? Think you could handle someone's mouth on your cock?" God, the words are so obscene, yet so natural as they fall from Bucky’s lips, Steve all but whimpers when the both of you start kissing on his neck, "Ever done that before, Steve?"

He shakes his head, hands reaching to touch both of them in any way he can, "God, please."

"Not God, angel." Bucky starts, the pet name rolling off his lips, smooth as butter, sweet as honey, "Just us."

His briefs were off, his cock springing up when it was finally released from the far too tight confines of his underwear. Bucky leans forward, kissing Steve as he guides him to lay back on the mattress, hovering over him. 

The sight couldn’t be more mouth-watering, his cock a deep shade of pink as he leaks pre-cum onto his stomach, so desperate, kissing Bucky back like his life depended on it. 

His stomach tightens when you start kissing your way down his chest until you finally reached the tip of his cock, wrapping a hand around the base, kissing the tip, hearing Steve moan into Bucky’s mouth.

You lick along the underside of his shaft, swirling your tongue over the head and liking the salty taste it left you with. Steve’s an utter mess, bucking his hips and squirming beneath you and Bucky when you finally put your mouth around him, no longer having the focus to continue kissing Bucky, instead just letting his head fall back against the pillows, breath laboured and heavy as you start to suck. 

"C'mon, sweetheart. You can go deeper than that." Bucky purrs, tilting his head as you look up at him through your lashes, and you pull off of Steve, using your hand to make lazy strokes up and down his cock, shaking your head at the brunette.

"He's so big, Bucky," You bite your lip, and Steve whimpers softly at your compliment, watching as you fake a look of innocence, giving Bucky those doe eyes as you brush your thumb across the tip of Steve's cock. "D'you wanna taste him, Buck?"

Bucky already knows the answer to that, his cock was throbbing at the sight of you and Steve alone, but he glances up to Steve, meeting his distracted gaze and waiting for some sort of permission, which was given almost immediately, Steve frantically nodding his head. 

Bucky smirks, winking at you as he adjusts himself on the bed, moving beside you, giving your lips a chaste kiss before lowering his head, your hand still holding his cock for Bucky to enjoy, his tongue circling the head just as you were doing only seconds ago, as you continue to stroke Steve's remaining length while Bucky starts to take him deeper into his mouth. 

Steve couldn't hold back on the sounds he’s making, he's never been so vocal, never been so sensitive to touch, but he can’t help himself, Bucky's mouth felt so warm, so wet, and when he opens his blue eyes to look down at the two of you, he know he wont last much longer. 

You bend your head down when Bucky comes up for air, tracing your tongue against Steve's cock as you meet Bucky's eye holding his heart-stopping gaze as Bucky started doing the same, both of your mouths on him at the same time. 

It’s filthy, an act of sin no doubt you'll never come back from, but you wouldn’t want to anyway, humming when Steve starts panting, his abs constricting, you wrap your lips around the tip, pumping his cock with your hand until his cum filled your mouth, hearing the deep groan that reverberated through his chest as he came.

You swallow as you pulled away and a hand finds its way to your neck, Bucky pulling you closer. “No fair, you’re supposed to share, sweet girl.” He chastises softly, almost pouting, before he closes the gap to capture your lips with his own, his tongue sliding into your mouth. He moans softly at the taste of Steve's cum on your tongue, the pretty sound so perfect on your ears, only reminding you that Bucky was yet to be touched, focusing on yours and Steve's pleasure instead of his own. How very like him.

You rest your hand on his stomach as you kiss him back, gliding your fingers lower and lower until you reach the waistband of the underwear that he was still somehow wearing. You ping the elastic against his skin, smiling into the kiss when he only leaned closer. 

He shudders as your hand finally slides past the band, wrapping around his cock and pulling him out. Neither of you made any move to remove his underwear, you both knew he was far too gone, too desperate to wait any longer, so you squeeze the base of his cock, pulling away from the kiss only to look at him.

Hair mussed, light eyes the darkest you'd ever seen them, as he watches every little move you make for him, his lips red and swollen, cheeks flushed pink. He finally looks as wrecked as Steve, who was still getting over the fact that he just came in his best friend's mouth. 

You move your hand slowly at first, stomach fluttering with every strangled moan that caught in Bucky's throat, "You're all talk, ain't you Buck?" 

"Fuck, doll- please- I need to come." He groans, eyes fluttering shut when you kiss his neck, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, arm wrapping around your waist.

"You look as desperate as our Stevie right now, James." You tease, but still speed up your hand for him, swirling your thumb across the slit to hear his breath hitch in his throat. 

Bucky looks over at Steve then, giving a light-hearted scoff at the sight of him rock hard again, stroking slowly at his cock as he enjoys the show in front of him. 

"Fuckin' super soldier." Bucky laughs, laying his cheek on your shoulder, groaning softly as his eyes flutter closed.

You can tell how close he is, moving his head to tuck right into the crook of your neck, talking himself away like he tends to do, "Fuck, feels so good, sweetheart. 'M so close- Never felt this good before, doll." 

You were used to his nicknames by now, years of him calling you 'doll' more than he used your actual name usually had you rolling your eyes, but now, like this, it makes your stomach flutter. 

It wasn't much longer till he was coming onto both of your stomachs, hot spurts painting your skin as Bucky's hips twitched forward with every second he comes, groaning as you continue to stroke him.

Steve follows yet again not long after, and a glance over to him laid against the headboard with his abdomen covered in his own spend has you blushing, never mind the fact that he'd just had his fingers inside you, and his cock in your mouth. 

Bucky quickly cleans up your stomach with his discarded shirt, along with his own before he tosses it to Steve with a chuckle. 

You’re all glowing, surprised by the complete lack of awkwardness despite all the things that had just happened in Bucky's hotel room. Instead, you all huddle together on the bed, your head laid on Steve's shoulder as Bucky rested his on your stomach, your fingers naturally finding themselves threading through his hair. 

"Well, that was fucking amazing," Bucky murmurs, a content smile on his face as he looks over at you and Steve, his arms around your waist.

"Yeah, it was." Steve agrees, moving one of his hands through Bucky's hair too, before draping his arm above your head. 

You go quiet for a moment, the afterglow not quite enough to keep the anxiety at bay anymore, "I just wish we'd done this earlier."

They know what you mean, they know what you’re insinuating, and the room falls silent. None of you could deny the dangers, the uncertainty ahead of you, but that didn't mean you couldn't enjoy the time you had up until that moment you’d all have to risk everything again.

"We can't think like that, baby," Bucky speaks first, his voice soft, gentle and yet serious, "I know it's hard not to, but we can't focus on the regrets. If anything, we just need to live the best we can with what we've got... and if I've got you two, I don't need anything else."

You nod, pressing your face into Bucky’s hair, although you can’t see Steve's face, you know that he agrees, his fingers brushing against your arm affectionately. 

"Bucky's right. Let's just enjoy this, lord knows we've all been pining for each other for years." 

You chuckle softly, having needed this soft moment for a long while, feeling warm and loved between them, hoping they feel it too.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

night out

a/n: we back babyyy!!! i haven't been able to stop thinking about these two for fucking months, so i wrote both this aaaaand another part to wrap up their story and get it out of my system.

summary: “I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader x ex!peter parker, light smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, bffs kate bishop and yelena belova, french rave, dancing, kissing, over-the-clothes fun, foreplay, references to public sex, choking, manhandling, jealousness, possessiveness, angst, arguments, brat mode activated (though its totally justified), these hoes are not dealing with their emotions in a healthy way but it's just for the sake of yummy drama

word count: 1993

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“I thought we were just going to a cute little wine bar, not a fucking rave,” you yelled over the music as your friends dragged you further into the warehouse. 

“Oh, come on, babe,” Yelena boomed, slinking her arm around both yours and Kate's neck, “don’t be a chicken now.”

“Yeah,” your brunette friend on the other side of Yelena tilted her frame to catch your apprehensive eye, “you already sneaked out, so you might as well make it count.” 

“I hate it when you’re right,” you groaned, your gaze narrowed to a squint as you got used to the warm flashing lights that dully illuminated the club. 

“Then you must always hate me,” a smug smirk spread across her features before the trio of you ventured further into the crowded space. 

As the night faded away, you found yourselves bathing in the strobes of neon light as your bodies moved on their own accord, like you were all part of a hive, buzzing together in harmony.

But then when you tapped both of your dancing friends on their shoulders and ushered their ears to lean in close to your lips, you told them, “I’m gonna go get some water,” receiving two thumbs up before you made your way through the crowd to the curved bar in the corner. 

However, after the bartender handed you a plastic bottle and you tilted your head back to take a much-needed sip, a familiar voice found your ears from across the bar. 

“As I live and fucking breathe,” you tipped the bottle back down and glanced down the way at the unexpected figure moseying closer to where you stood. 

“Peter!” a surprised smile couldn’t help but spread across your features, “what are you doing here?” 

Settling in beside you, he said, “it’s a Saturday night, where else would I be?”

“No, I mean, what are you doing in Paris?” 

“Oh, what, am I not allowed to be in your city anymore since the breakup?” he joked.

“No, of course, you can be here.” 

Leaning in even closer so that he didn’t have to yell as loud, he asked, “so how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m good, yeah,” your head bobbed in a nod, “how about you?”

“Can’t complain,” his gaze washed over you as if no time had passed at all, “so… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you shifted the water bottle to your other hand. 

“You seeing anyone?” 

“Oh, wow,” you half coughed, “Peter Parker, king of subtlety.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count, so I figured subtlety went out the window a long time ago,” he smirked, “so, are you?”

“I–, uhm…” your eyes averted a moment as you uttered, “no.” 

You weren’t, it was true. Though the reason for why you’d sneaked out in the first place did have to do with a matter of the heart. 

You’d asked your friends what their advice would be if you hypothetically needed to get over someone. They both of course assumed that you were referring to the man standing before you in the disco and not the person who watched you like a hawk every minute of every day. The method they had suggested wasn’t a sound one, though one that still found you desperate enough to try. 

To go out, meet someone else and bang the dude out of your system. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Peter asked again, ripping you out of your thoughts, away from your bodyguard and back in the moment. As you offered him a nod, he smiled brightly, “you wanna dance?”

And that’s how you found yourself in the middle of a crowded dancefloor, plastered against your ex.

It didn’t take long before your lips reunited as well, staying locked as you both let your hands wander, though for you it wasn’t entirely in the spirit of rekindling something that you’d missed, and more to help you forget about the person who you truly wished to lose yourself on a dancefloor with. 

“Fuck,” you heard Peter groan in your ear and his desperation poked your lower abdomen for the attention you used to give it, “you wanna go slip into the bathroom?”

“Uhh,” you giggled as his lips tickled the side of your neck, “what kinda woman do you take me to be?”

“Mine,” he smiled, “that’s who. I know you. A club bathroom is nothing… remember Amsterdam?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” your body tingled at the thought. 

“That’s also an option, if that’s the kind of mood you're in,” he winked. 

Chuckling as he squeezed your tit, you shook your head lightly, “I’m not fucking you here on the dancefloor.” 

“Oh, come on, it–”

But the rest of your ex’s sentence was cut short as a figure forced itself between you two and pried you apart.  

Instinctively reaching out for Peter as he was forcefully pushed back, your arm then faltered as you blinked up to discover who had shoved him. 

“Barnes,” a shiver ran down your spine at the stormy expression plastered all over his face, a side of him you’d never witnessed before, “I–”

But he cut you off, only to bark, “out, now.”

“But I–”

“Do you wanna walk on your own or should I just toss you over my shoulder?” he glared down at you just before you watched Peter’s hand plant itself on Bucky’s broad shoulder. 

“Hey, dude, don’t touch her, back off,” your ex tried to square up to the intimidating guard dog. 

“No, no, Peter, it’s alright,” you rushed to explain, knowing full well that your bodyguard could and would put him in the hospital, “he’s–…” your eyes briefly flickered up to Bucky’s steely blue eyes, still directed at you, “he’s my bodyguard,” before you let your touch graze Peter’s forearm, “I’m so sorry, it was great seeing you again, but I have to go.” 

Getting dragged out of the club like a perp from a crime scene was not the way you’d imagined your night would wrap up. 

After he’d virtually tossed you in the back and slammed the car door shut behind you, you fished out your phone and swiftly sent your friends an explanatory text while you half-watched Bucky march around the vehicle to the driver’s side. 

The silent treatment he then served you nearly felt worse than the heated words you imagined tumbled around in his head as he fumed, his knuckles nearly turned white from how fiercely he was gripping onto the steering wheel. 

But when you finally mustered the courage to break the eerie silence, your words came out just above a whisper, “I’m sorry…”

“Are you?” his eyes snapped up to find yours in the review mirror, “really? Because I don’t fucking buy it.” 

“Well, I am!” you threw up your arms, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Not sneak out like a fucking teenager to get drunk with your little boyfriend,” 

“I’m not drunk and he’s not my boyfriend!” 

Not taking any of your words to heart, Bucky went on, “you know how stupid this was, right? What if something had happened, huh? I know you didn’t personally read the threats you got back when I first got this job, but trust me when I tell you that if any of those fuckers had gotten their hands on you tonight, you’d be lucky if you were still breathing when the sun rose. This is exactly the sort of reckless behaviour that caused you to need my help in the first place.”

Your mouth then fell open, utterly stunned at his audacity, “oh my god… you’re unbelievable…” you uttered breathlessly before hazily commanding, “stop the car…”

“No–”

“Stop the fucking car!” you roared, casting your gaze to him once more till you felt his foot step on the break. 

As the car screeched to a stop, you wasted no time ripping the door open and storming out. 

Though you didn’t dare to look back, you still heard him exit the vehicle as well and shadow you as you wandered a few paces away, just far enough for you to be able to get some air. 

“Y/n,” you heard him from just a few meters behind you, “get back in the car–”

But you didn’t shift your feet as you then interrupted, back still turned to him.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

“What?”

“Well aren’t you?” you heatedly twisted around to face him, “because it sure fucking looks like it. Getting all fucking possessive, ripping me away from my ex before I can crawl my way back to him, before I get the chance to feel anyone inside of me but you–”

“Stop–”

“Is that it? You just want me all to yourself?” you kept on poking, too blind by your fury to consider the consequences, “you want it to be you that I’m so in love with that I’d make you personalised porn, which would consequently ruin my life and cause me to have a babysitter essentially stalking me.”

“Stop!” he took a step closer as he barked.

“Unless you’ve already seen the tape,” your feet shifted back, keeping him at a distance, “fantasising that it’s for you, getting yourself off to the image of me bouncing on that pretty pink dildo–”

Your sentence then crumbled into a shrivelled yelp as you felt his cold metal hand seize your neck and push you the last few inches up against the brick wall behind you. 

His fingers didn’t squeeze you in the slightest, though you still knew just how easy it would have been for him to tighten his grip and turn it into more than just a raging warning. 

“You done?” he spat as his eyes pieced directly into your soul, “or do you wanna give me more reasons why you’re nothing more than a spoiled little brat, why I should just quit now and not have to deal anymore with what a fucking pain you are in my ass?”

For the life of you, no attempts at offering him an answer were successful on your lips. 

He scared you. 

He’d never scared you before. 

Both because of the explosion you’d undoubtedly made even worse than it had to be, but also his fleeting threat of leaving you for good. 

It all terrified you… 

Though, there was also a different sensation that it awoke within you, one that caused your eyes to flutter down towards his lips, an action that your bodyguard surprisingly mirrored as well as your heated breaths synced up. 

You had no idea who moved first, if it was you or him, but the next thing you knew, you were kissing him.

With adrenaline still pumping in your veins, you clawed at his broad frame as you let your tongue flicker out and flutter against his own. The steely hand that had locked itself around your neck softened and whisked down your form, mirroring your own starving touch as he securely held you like you were about to fall. 

However, just as your palm slid down to find the bulge in his pants, rubbing it needily before your fingers tried to seize the short zipper, Bucky took a large step back, snapping to his senses and creating a wide distance between him and your melted form against the brick. 

His eyes refused to meet your foggy ones as he held them to the ground, slowly catching his breath before uttering, “get in the car,” defeat shining through in his low tone.

“Bucky–,” you tried, but without success as he then cut you off. 

“Please, just–…” his gaze fluttered shut a moment as you then heard him sombrely promise, “look, I’ll make sure your mom doesn’t hear word of what happened tonight. If we go now, then we’ll arrive before any of the staff wakes up, no one will notice.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[umamaki]

to you and caleb, the summer months only mean being stuck at home—exceptionally bored and finding ways to combat the mid-year heat.

though just to you, summer means that at any and all times, caleb is a very, very, disposable subject for your relentless teasing.

this week's heatwave has been the worst one in a while, the frustration growing between you and caleb over your current conditions is almost palpable in the living room. his especially, as he was using every ounce of strength to not look over at your flushed, half dressed, figure next to him right now.

"'m getting a drink."

the way he abruptly stands from the opposite side of the couch startles you from your spaced-out state. though you don't miss the way he chokes out his words, or his continuously reddening ears. he's still avoiding looking in your direction, back turned to you.

"want anything, pips?"

"yes, please!"

he barely reaches the kitchen before you start trailing right behind him, suddenly struck with an idea.

"on second thought, i can just get it myself."

you walk right past him. going and holding the refridgerator open for a moment, savoring the cold air pouring out and pretending to weigh your options. you feel caleb's eyes scanning your body from behind you back. you couldn't expect him not to. all you're wearing besides your underwear is a plain white tank top. 

you finally remove a bottle of apple cider, turning back to caleb with it resting on your cheek. 

"oh my god, this feels so good." you let out a moan of relief. the cold glass moves down to cool your neck, and further to your chest. caleb doesn't hide the fact as he watches the separated drops of condensation slide down your skin and soak into your top.

you're absolutely going to be the death of him. 

still acting clueless, you begin "d'you want one? trust me, it helps—ack!" 

caleb had snatched the bottle from your outstretched hand, sliding it away on the counter. your back is against the cool metal surface of the fridge, caleb keeping you in place with arms on both sides of your head.

"walking around the house with barely anything on. making a whole show out of getting a drink. why, just to taunt me? is that what you're trying to do? that's what you've been doing all summer, huh?"

he closes the distance between you with each word, until he's only a breath away from pressing his lips to yours.

"s' hot outside, is all."

he grabs your chin in place before you could look away, suddenly shy. "don't pull that on me. don't think i haven't been noticing you all summer. you are all i notice these days." his voice becomes desperate, ragged.

"waltzing around in just your lace panties..." he hooks a finger through the waistband of your underwear, tugging and releasing it to snap your hips.

"...in your flimsy little clothes..." next he grabs your tits, with both hands, thumbs swiping over your nipples to watch them harden through the thin fabric of your tank top. "it's torture, you know."

"haah—caleb!" he had barely touched you but you already feel out of breath. you press your legs together, trying to relieve some of the pressure building up in your heat. he notices. 

"gonna ask for my help?" his fingers travel downwards, cupping your pussy and giving you a moment of relief. "want me to help you get off, baby?"

caleb's proximity to you, in addition to the heat and humidity, was overwhelming. you felt yourself becoming dizzy with each passing second, but you couldn't find it in you to say no.

"please caleb..."

"yeah? then get on the counter."

it's safe to say that you and caleb found... new things to indulge in during the heat of this summer.

[prael]

Day 4: A Two-step Problem

Nmixx Sullyoon & Kiss of Life Belle x male reader smut

words: 9,667 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"She's coming here? This weekend? To this house?" The concoction of shock and confusion, topped with a little bit of annoyance, is in both Sullyoon's tone and expression. "This house!? This same exact house that I am sitting in!?"

Her outburst quickly settles into a sulk as she slouches in her dining chair. Her father turns to your mother for help that she doesn't offer. He's on his own with this one.

"Look," he starts gently. "She's my daughter too and I want to get to know her. I haven't seen her in years."

"You barely talk about her." Sullyoon counters, arms folded defensively across her chest. Her tone is laced with accusation. "I don't know anything about her."

Your mother shoots Sullyoon a glare, one that causes Sullyoon to step well over the line.

"Why are you okay with this? Another daughter that's not even yours coming into our home?"

You stare at your food, praying for the ordeal to be over.

"Stop being silly," your mother reprimands. "You are my daughter, and I'll treat Belle as my own too."

Sullyoon gives you a side-eye, and while she doesn't say anything else, you can see how desperate she is for you to take issue with it too. While you may not be as opposed as Sullyoon, you do have a reservation. "Where will she sleep?" You finally speak up, looking at your mother.

"Sullyoon, can she stay in your room?" she asks.

"No!" Sullyoon snaps. It's clear that she's still processing her frustration.

"It's fine." You turn to your mother. "She can take my room, I'll take the couch."

Sullyoon goes quiet for a moment, her mouth falling open in shock. She looks almost offended that you're not fighting by her side. Then she asks, "What's wrong with you?" and rolls her eyes when your answer comes in the form of an innocent shrug.

"Thank you," your stepfather says, shooting you an appreciative smile. Sullyoon's chair scrapes the floor as she stands up abruptly.

"I'm done." After a curt announcement of departure, she's already headed to her room.

Her father sighs. "Let her go," your mother advises. "She'll come around."

-

A few hours have passed since the revelation and you're in your room. Soft pillows beneath your lower back and slouched against the wall. The soft tones of music from the speaker across the room fill the air.

"Can you believe that shit?" Sullyoon curses the whole idea. "Belle, my long-lost sister, is coming to live here. What are we, some kind of 90s sitcom?"

"Can we not do this right now?" You respond, struggling to focus on both her and her words at one time.

"I thought you were on my side." She pauses for a moment and lets out a soft sigh. "You didn't even argue it."

"It's not that deep, Sullyoon," you grunt out the words, as her hot breath hits your face.

"Yeah well..." She falters. "...It is to me." You feel her fingers thread through your hair before finding a handful of the short strands at the base of your skull. You hiss, feeling her pull on them lightly, but you don't fight back. "Do you think she'll be annoying? And say loads of weird American things?"

"I don't care," you dismiss, putting your hand on her thigh and holding the flesh tight.

"Oh." She clears her throat and adjusts her position. "Well, I do care."

"You might get along." Your tone lacks commitment. It's almost impossible to focus with the smell of her perfume filling your nostrils. You bury your face into the crook of her neck. "You smell so good."

"I bet she thinks she's better than us."

"Sullyoon!" you snap. "For fuck sake!" You put your hand on her waist and lift her off your lap, letting her naked form fall lazily onto the bed beside you. "Conversation or sex, choose one."

"Hey!" She exclaims, annoyed about being pulled free from your cock.

Your irritation quickly fades away as you turn your head to look at her. Her dark hair spills out beneath her, messy, wavy and soft. Her smile is mischievous while her dark eyes sparkle with humour and intrigue. A million thoughts cross your mind but none of them can beat out the singular reminder that she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. Her features are uniquely hers and yet, they seem perfectly matched to your taste.

"Okay, I'll stop talking about her then."

There is a shift in the energy of the room. She turns away from you, positioning herself on her knees and resting her cheek against the pillow below. There she lies in wait, ass on display for only you. You bite down on your bottom lip as you clamber behind her.

You reach out and wrap your hands around her hips, squeezing her flesh in between your fingertips. "Sullyoon." The syllables roll off your tongue. "Sometimes, things are hard." You press your cock, still coated in her slick juices, against her waiting cunt. "But you have to just take it."

You push into her pussy from behind. You watch the way the hole expands and stretches around you. The soft, pink walls give in to your intrusion. You hear the little gasp and moan that Sullyoon releases upon feeling you enter her again. You keep going until her round little ass is flush against your hips and the full length of your cock is buried inside her pussy.

From this angle, Sullyoon can do little more than submit. And so she does, allowing you to hold her by the hips, dragging her body back and forth until it moves in line with your rhythm.

"See?" you tease. "Feels better this way, doesn't it?"

"Fuck..." Sullyoon whines. "I hate when you do that."

"What?" You chuckle and spank her across the ass before grabbing a handful of her flesh once again. "When I talk down to you like that or when I make you feel like a little slut?"

"Yes." She squeezes her eyes shut. You listen to every pant and every moan. You feel her thighs shake and tremble against your skin. You know she loves this; there's no other reason why else she would allow you to take over her body and treat her this way. The two of you may bicker and argue and fight, but none of that matters when you're alone together in your bedroom, exploring one another. For all your arguments, you know there isn't another person in the world that feels as perfect wrapped in your arms.

As taboo as it may be.

She looks at you over her shoulder through misty brown eyes with pouted lips, looking all too delicious to touch. "Please," she begs in a small voice that sends a chill up your spine. "Harder. Faster."

"Good girl." The words flow seamlessly from your lips. You hold tighter onto her ass, for fear of the pleasure making her collapse against the bed. You start pounding into her from behind. Each slap of your hips connecting against her ass rings out against the silence of the room.

Sullyoon's hand grips the pillow beneath her head, squeezing it tight as her outlet for her building pleasure. It becomes too much, and she lets out a long moan. You're quick to lean in, take hold of her head and bury her face against the pillow.

"Quiet," you scold. You slide your fingers into her mouth and let them rest against her tongue. She welcomes you in, letting her lips seal around your digits. Her tongue runs laps across the tips of your fingers and the sensation causes an involuntary twitch of your hips.

"There we go," you coo. You can tell by the way she squeezes down on your length that she likes it when you praise her. She might try to play tough and cold, but you've learnt exactly what buttons to push to get her melting at your touch.

You can feel yourself edging closer, and so you reach down further. Sullyoon's clit is sensitive when you press your finger against it, judging by the way she bites down on your fingers. It takes only a few gentle rubs to bring her to the same point as you.

She whimpers softly against your fingers. You can almost feel the muffled cries vibrating against your skin as the knot of pleasure in her tummy begins to unravel. "That's it," you whisper. "Be a good sister and cum with me."

Sullyoon bucks and thrashes in pleasure. She reaches her orgasm at the same time as you and the two of you ride out the waves together. With each throb, you fill her up until she's practically overflowing. Finally, she collapses against the bed and you follow her shortly after. Her chest heaves against the bedsheets, tired and worn, and finally satisfied.

"You can't call me that," she complains, voice strained. "It's not cute, it's gross."

"And yet every time I do, you seem to cum harder," you respond simply. She rolls her eyes and scoffs, before shuffling into your embrace and resting her head against your chest. You both lay in silence, spent bodies wrapped up in each other's warmth. You absent-mindedly draw circles along her bare arm while she draws in deep breaths against your chest.

"I'm serious about this Belle thing." She breaks the quietude, her voice soft. You sigh heavily. "I don't want her here."

-

And yet, Saturday comes around just like clockwork.

The five of you sit awkwardly in the living room. A tray of drinks rests on the coffee table, untouched, and Sullyoon keeps shooting you pointed glares. The situation could be cut with a knife.

"It's such a long journey," Belle explains, talking fast and with a certain chirp in her voice. "We had to leave at five AM for the airport. It was still dark!"

"Oh my!" Your mother gushes. "So you must be tired." Sullyoon rolls her eyes hard.

"A little," Belle admits. "But I slept most of the flight so it's okay."

"Don't worry," you add politely. "It's a quiet area, you'll be able to sleep in tomorrow." She has only been here an hours but it's impossible to deny how charming Belle is. She's got a wide smile and sweet expressions—just a natural aura about her that makes her easy to speak to. It doesn't hurt that she's pretty, with large, dewy brown eyes, and soft hair resting on her shoulders. She wears a pair of jeans that hug her legs tightly and a top that's tied above her belly button.

She gives you this wide smile, that she's already given countless times, and thanks you, adding, "That sounds like heaven." Sullyoon's scoff catches everyone's attention. Four pairs of eyes fall on her and she squirms, hating the spotlight.

"Something wrong, dear?" your mom asks. Sullyoon shakes her head and reaches forward to grab her glass of lemonade. You can't help but let out a tiny laugh. Your mother shoots you both a suspicious glare but doesn't say anything.

You hadn't even noticed that Belle had been looking at you, but when you turn to meet her gaze you feel your stomach flip upside down. It could just be your overactive imagination but something in the look she's giving you has you flustered. Then she laughs too, albeit nervously. Your cheeks warm up and suddenly you have to look away.

"It's almost lunch, how about you help us in the kitchen, Sullyoon." Then your mother looks at you, "and you can show Belle where she'll be sleeping."

"Uh, sure," you reply, your words being met by Sullyoon shooting daggers with her eyes. Once your parents and your stepsister are out of sight, you gesture to Belle and she stands.

"The house is huge," she remarks, following you out of the room. "My old place was basically a box compared to this."

"Well, we live in the suburbs." You shrug. "I can show you around town later if you want." The two of you head up the staircase to where the bedrooms reside.

"You'd do that for me? Really?"

"Of course," you chuckle. Her giggles send goosebumps across your flesh. You pause for a moment and point down the hallway, "Mine is this way."

"This is so cool," Belle whispers. Really? A house is cool? "I always lived in this little studio apartment. My bed was right next to my kitchen."

Her casual remarks about her life, however mundane they are, are captivating. It's nice to meet someone so different from your usual friend group. "What was it like in the city?"

"Different from here," Belle responds. "It's loud all the time and the streets are busy, no matter the time or day." You push open the door to your bedroom and she follows in while she continues, "It was exciting but also way too much, you know? The parties were crazy—like movie-level crazy."

You gently nod as her thoughts trail off and she starts looking around the room. You watch as she takes it all in. Having made at least half an effort to clear some space for her, it looked kind of bare, compared to usual anyway. "Here," you offer, leading her over to your wardrobe. You slide open a couple of doors and explain, "This section is empty and you can hang your clothes up here."

"You didn't have to. I've lived out of my suitcase before when I travelled."

"No bother. You're a guest, make yourself comfortable." You gesture around the room. "I cleared the desk in case you need it and the sheets are fresh." (Which is good, after what you and Sullyoon had been doing the night before.)

"Thank you. This is already better than I could have ever hoped." When Belle smiles again, you feel a little flutter in your tummy. "Sorry about earlier," she adds. "Was your sister mad because of me?"

"She'll come around." You give a half-hearted assurance. Sullyoon's feelings aren't yours to share, but Belle does deserve some peace of mind. "Don't worry about her."

"I always wanted a sister, I hope she likes me." Belle nods gently, a faint expression of disappointment flashing across her face before fading back to neutral. She pauses and purses her lips together for a second. "And...you? Are you happy I'm here?"

"I've had to put up with one annoying step-sister for a long time, a second can't be much worse," you joke. A laugh leaves her lips and the tension dissolves instantly. The two of you stay silent for a few moments before you notice Belle starting to squint. "What's wrong?"

"It's really hot in here." She places her hand on her forehead as if checking her temperature. The thick beams of sunlight that are streaming in through the open curtains highlight her point. Sweat has started to gather on her neck and brow.

"Lemme fix that." You push open a window and draw a blind down. Belle waits patiently behind you as the bright morning sun vanishes into a muted grey. "There we go," you announce, turning around—and coming face-to-face with her. You freeze as if trapped by her intense gaze.

Her cheeks are flushed and her skin is hot. Beads of sweat shimmer in the sunlight. She stares at you, silently saying something that you can't quite decode. She smells sweet, like vanilla.

"Thanks." Her voice is soft, almost as delicate as the moment itself.

"You're welcome..." You say back, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

"Uh, how about the rest of the house?"

"What about it?"

"Aren't you supposed to be showing me around?" She laughs and her soft tone breaks the tension. You shake the daze out of your mind and clear your throat.

"Of course. Let's go."

You point out the rest of the rooms, and then show her the bathroom, explaining, "My parents have their own so this is basically ours." As you head downstairs, you let her know, "Just try not to take the world's longest showers like Sullyoon." Belle laughs, which gives you the chance to admire how cute she looks when she's smiling.

-

It's been a low-key couple of days. Belle spent the whole time fawning over how cool it was to live out in the suburbs and subtly cursing how she had grown tired of the city—though half it felt like a sly brag. You had taken her into town the day before last, and while you're sure she would have been fine going back alone, she's asking you to take her.

Much to the annoyance of a certain someone.

"But Sunday is movie night," Sullyoon complains, lying on her bed. You're standing in the doorway, arms folded, telling her about your plan to accompany Belle.

"I'll be back in time and we can watch whatever movie you pick this week," you dismiss, already knowing she isn't going to listen to any attempt of yours to compromise. "Also, you could come with us."

"If I did come, then I would be hanging out with her, and I don't want to hang out with her." Sullyoon states blankly.

A quick glance to your side and you see Belle, standing in the hallway, hearing everything that Sullyoon is saying. There's a small pout that forms on her lips. A glimmer of sadness in her eyes. You feel a pang of sympathy. While Belle tries to smile as if it's nothing, you see right through the facade.

"Don't worry," she says. "I can go on my own." And with that, she heads off downstairs. You turn to your stepsister and shoot her a harsh glare.

"C'mon! Don't give me that look." Sullyoon pouts dramatically. "She's a big girl, she's used to being independent."

"Would it kill you to at least get to know her?"

"You're busy doing that for the both of us." She shoots an accusatory look. "Is one step-sister not enough?" Her words drip with insinuation, and you feel your face flush at what she's implying. You roll your eyes and curse at her, which makes her stand and walk towards you. Before she speaks, she pulls you by the arms and closes her door. "Oh come on! Admit it," she presses. "You think she's cute, huh?"

"So what?" You shrug and avert your gaze, cheeks red.

Sullyoon pauses, processing your answer. "Do you wanna fuck her?"

"Sullyoon!" You snap, feeling the blood rush to your head.

Her grin is devious, "You want her to replace me? Huh?" She teases. "Get a brand new stepsister who sucks your dick extra well?"

"You're sick."

"Oh, please. I've seen the way you two look at each other. Don't be surprised if she offers to top and tail with you tonight." Sullyoon smirks, "The couch must be so uncomfortable." Her voice is laced with sarcasm.

-

She said it was just going to be for essentials. A few shops to pick up items that didn't fit in her bags for the plane trip over. Yet, somehow, you find yourself browsing designer dresses for sale.

"It's my first weekend in a new country," she explains, pulling a silk purple dress free and pressing it up against her body. "Don't I deserve to treat myself?"

"I guess, but dresses like this? When are you planning on wearing them?"

"To dinners. To a club. On a date?" She cocks an eyebrow. "Who knows?"

"Wouldn't it be better to make the plans and then buy the dress?" You suggest with a laugh. Though you hate to admit it, the sleek material would look great on her.

"You hungry?" she asks. "How about dinner?"

"We should wait until we're home. Mum is expecting us both."

"Do you always do what you're told?" Belle pries.

"No...I—" You hesitate. She tilts her head to the side and flashes you a mischievous grin.

"Great. I'll get changed into this, we can dump the bags in the car and find a nice restaurant." She declares decisively. After rummaging around her bag for her wallet, she turns to face you. "Wish me luck, it's probably expensive."

"Wait—"

She's walking away before you can protest. You watch as she goes up to the woman running the place and pays for the dress. After that, Belle disappears behind a dressing screen. All the while, you're standing there, holding bags and looking confused.

There are a few silent moments. Ones where you try to formulate an excuse to turn her down; but just as quickly as they appear, the arguments vanish. In reality, the idea of a nice meal with Belle isn't exactly unappealing.

The curtain is drawn back, and she appears.

Wow.

It takes less than a second for your eyes to land on her waist. How the deep purple fabric hugs her figure so nicely, wrapping tight around her curves and squeezing her form. It's strapless and plunges into a v-neck that shows off so much skin. The hem stops mid-thigh and swishes with the movement of her hips.

"So? How do I look?"

You swallow, clearing a lump in your throat. "Incredible."

"That means you're paying for dinner then."

"Hey!" You start to protest. But it's no use, she's already laughing, slipping on a pair of white heels that pull the outfit together perfectly.

The restaurant she chose is tucked away from the main street. The soft yellow light glows through a window pane, casting a warm haze onto the sidewalk below. She holds your arm as she walks, using you for balance. The smell of her perfume hits you just as hard as her outfit does, sweet like vanilla.

"This place looks pretty fancy, right?" she asks with a cheeky smile. "You won't mind treating me, will you? After all, I have moved halfway around the world."

You roll your eyes and follow her in. A waiter welcomes you both, and seats you at a small booth in the corner of the dining room. A candle flickers in the centre, between glasses and cutlery. Belle scans the menu and occasionally takes sneaky glances across the table.

"So, how often do you take girls on dates?" she pries. "Not counting me."

"It's not that often, really."

"Then I must be special," she remarks playfully. "But don't worry, you're pretty cute too."

"Oh yeah?" You decide to play along. "Enough for a second date?"

"Hmm... maybe." The conversation is light and easy and just seems to flow naturally without needing any prompts or effort from either end.

Once you've ordered, Belle sips on a glass of wine, staring at you intently, her gaze unwavering, "I wish Sullyoon liked me as much as you do." Her statement catches you off-guard.

"I'm sorry for the way she's acting," you apologise. "She's probably fearing being replaced. She has always been a bit of a daddy's girl."

"I guess I can understand where she's coming from," Belle concedes, swirling the drink in her glass, watching as the crimson liquid swirls around gracefully. "I would be hesitant too. Change can suck sometimes, especially when it's unexpected." She takes a sip and then continues, "I was talking to my dad for a while, about coming over. And you know what he would talk to me about, every time?"

"Sullyoon."

Belle chuckles lightly and puts down her drink. "Yeah. He couldn't help himself. Always talking about the things she was doing. The friends she had. All those clubs she took part in. Made me so excited to meet her."

"Oh..." Now you understand.

"When I got here and realised that I wasn't gonna get a warm reception, it kinda hurt."

"Yeah. I know she can be...stubborn. Sometimes." You sigh. "Don't give up though, I know you'll get to know each other eventually."

She looks at you with hopeful eyes. "You really think so?"

"She warmed up to me eventually." You shrug and take a bite from your food.

"And how long did that take?" Belle asks, her tone playful once more.

"A couple of years."

She laughs again. "Ah, shit." She sits back in her seat, and then looks at you, intrigued. "What changed?"

"Maybe we realised we have stuff in common, or that we were more similar than we thought."

Belle tilts her head to the side, seemingly mulling over what you said. She purses her lips and squints her eyes like she's trying to connect invisible dots. She stabs at her pasta and silently returns to her food.

"What was that?" you ask.

"Nothing," she dismisses. "So, I heard you mentioning a movie night."

"Yeah," you reply. "It's kind of a tradition. We pick a shitty movie, order some pizza, and make fun of it."

"Guess I'm ruining that now?" she suggests.

"It's just one time, we've missed it before and I'm sure we'll miss it again."

"Maybe next week I can join you?"

You think about how movie nights usually end. Sullyoon, spread across a bed, with your head between her legs. You remember the feeling of her soft skin and warmth, the sound of her moans filling the air. And now that memory includes Belle sitting beside you both.

You choke on your drink slightly.

"Oh God." Belle gasps. "What did I say?"

"Nothing, drink just went to the wrong place is all." You cough. "Yeah, sure, you can join us."

Time passes so easily. The conversation is nice, and she's such an interesting woman. She talks about her life, the places she has been and the people she has known. And you reciprocate. By the time the check arrives, you feel like you've known each other for much longer than four days.

"You know, my dad talked about helping me find my own place. I can't keep your room forever," she admits as she's finishing up her last drink.

"That's fine, I can survive on the sofa."

Belle chuckles at that. "I feel bad for putting you out like this." Her fingers reach out to brush yours, lingering there momentarily before retracting. The contact sends a shiver up your spine. "How about we share the bed?"

"Excuse me?" you say in shock. She laughs again.

"Not in that way. I mean, we can put pillows between us or something. It wouldn't be weird, just two siblings sleeping in the same room." She pauses and chuckles. "Unless you snore."

"I don't!"

"Well, I guess we'll find out."

-

When you finally return home, the house is eerily quiet. Both your parents' cars are missing and Sullyoon has retired to her room. Belle carries her purchases while you follow close behind.

As you step onto the landing, Sullyoon's bedroom door opens. She's dressed in one of your shirts. The light that floods out highlights how long her legs are, with her toned thighs in full view. She stands and watches Belle walk into your shared bedroom, before turning her attention to you. "So?" She asks, arms folding.

"So, what?" you counter.

"You going to apologise for ruining my weekend?" she huffs, arms crossing defensively. Her pouty expression almost tempts you to bite back.

"You were invited."

Sullyoon scoffs. "Oh yeah. So that I could third-wheel. No thanks."

You pause and chew your bottom lip. "Did you get to watch the movie at least?"

"Yes, alone." Her frown intensifies. You try not to laugh at how adorable she looks. "Goodnight."

She stomps back into her room and closes the door behind herself. You bite back an amused smirk. Sullyoon has the tendency to be petty, but you never seem to realise how far she'll go until she does it. Still, you decide not to dwell on it, knowing that Sullyoon would rather ignore the problem than confront it directly. She'll forgive you when she decides to.

You round the corner into your room, bags in hand, and that's when you see her, pulling down the zipper that runs along her spine. The fabric falls in ripples and reveals her back. From the arch between her shoulders down to the dimples in her lower back, the milky skin is exposed. Your throat dries up instantly.

"How am I supposed to feel about you ogling me like that?" Belle jokes, glancing at you over her shoulder. Her eyes shimmer with intrigue.

"Sorry." You quickly spit and then turn around. She doesn't say anything but you hear her light steps over the carpet as she rounds you and closes the bedroom door.

"I was joking," she says while facing you. Her hair falls over her shoulders and ends right above the cup of her bra. She looks like a model straight out of the pages of some lingerie catalogue. You struggle to stay composed.

"So was I," you reply, pretending to be cool while you turn away again to set the bags down in the corner of the room. Belle laughs under her breath.

"I've gotten used to living alone. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can put something on, but I'm used to sleeping in nothing but the covers." she offers. "But I don't mind, honestly."

The silence settles between you two and becomes deafening. You let out a nervous sigh. "It's okay," you finally state, grabbing shorts and a shirt and heading to the bathroom to change. "Just give me a moment." Once inside, you strip yourself of your clothes and run the water from the tap. You cup your hands together and fill them before splashing the cold water onto your face. You stare at yourself in the mirror.

This isn't a big deal. It doesn't have to be. You're going to be cool about the whole thing. You can handle having another gorgeous stepsister lying beside you in bed. It won't be hard at all.

You put your clothes on and march out of the bathroom. Belle has made herself comfortable in your bed, laying back against the pillow with her phone in hand. Her eyelids are half-open as she scrolls through social media apps lazily. The bedsheets cover her up to her shoulders.

"I've always slept on the left," she states absently, eyes still glued to her phone screen. You gulp. She pats the empty space beside her, invitingly. "That means you're on the right."

She turns off her phone as you enter the bed. As you slide under the covers, she turns and slides away to give you room. Your legs brush against hers by accident. Her smooth calves rub against yours and you freeze up. Then you feel her hand reaching out, touching your arm gently before drawing away again.

"Are you shy?" she asks with a tiny giggle.

"No," you lie, hoping that your cheeks aren't too flushed from embarrassment. The room goes pitch black when she flicks off the lamp. Only the distant glow of a street light shines through the curtains. Your eyes adjust and you make out her silhouette against the bedsheets.

"Just relax." Her voice echoes softly in the dark. She places her hand atop yours and squeezes firmly. She brushes her fingertips up along your forearm, stopping briefly near your elbow before trailing them back down again. Each stroke sends little shivers shooting up and down your spine. The effect of her touch is hypnotising; a powerful yet delicate combination of warmth and tenderness.

The movements continue for a while, in silence, as your eyes grow heavy.

"Sweet dreams," she whispers.

"Night Belle," you manage to mutter. Before you know it, you drift off to sleep.

-

At first, you don't even register the sensation, as if you are in a dream. First, it's the tickling of her hair in your face, followed by the feeling of her soft skin in your hand. Then it's the warmth, all along the front of your body. Belle is pressed against you tightly and your arm is around her. Holding her as the little spoon.

Your eyes flicker open.

You lay there in shock, unsure what to do, but also unwilling to move. The warmth radiates off of her, soothing every inch of you that she touches. Her breathing rises and falls slowly, as though she hasn't stirred yet. Her fragrance surrounds you, intoxicatingly sweet, leaving you lightheaded.

You try to adjust the arm that's trapped under her but she threatens to stir awake, mumbling unintelligibly against the pillow, as she shuffles around to get comfortable against you again. She moves her body against yours and presses harder.

Suddenly, you become very aware of exactly which parts of your bodies are making contact. Her ass grinds up against your crotch and the sensation causes a wave of heat to course throughout your entire core. Panic kicks in as you will your morning wood to retreat as quickly as possible. Yet no amount of willpower can stop the natural reaction to her plush butt cheeks.

You focus your attention elsewhere, trying to distract yourself by thinking of mundane tasks to pass the time—anything to prevent yourself from acknowledging your growing arousal. You count the speckles on the ceiling and list off ingredients of your favourite foods.

It doesn't work.

You have to get out. You start by pulling away your body, minimising the contact and creating separation. But then there's your arm, still stuck under her. Gently, ever so gently, you lift yourself away, trying to drag your limb free.

"Leaving already?" comes Belle's question. Her tone drips with mock offence.

"What? Uhhh.." you stutter. Shit. Not good.

Belle flips around to face you. In the morning glow, she's positively radiant. A beautiful angel bathed in warm sunlight. Her silky hair flows delicately as she turns. She flashes a devilish smile and says, "Look at that, our first night sharing a bed and you're already cuddling with me."

You're speechless. Blood rushes to your cheeks and you feel your heart beat faster in your chest.

"It was nice," she smiles. "Even if you were poking me in the ass."

Your jaw drops. Shame bubbles in the pit of your stomach and causes your skin to prickle. She laughs and pushes the sheets down to your waists. She's fucking topless. Your eyes widen as you catch sight of her breasts, perfect teardrops that hang deliciously against her chest, crowned by erect pink nipples. The sight sends you reeling into total disarray.

"You can't help it, I know." Her voice cuts through your dazed thoughts like a blade slicing through butter. "All guys wake up horny." She shuffles a little closer. "I can help it, though." Her hand snakes down beneath the sheet, into your shorts, and suddenly there's the unmistakable sensation of her fingers wrapped around your cock.

"Belle—" Her name leaves your throat weak and cracked. Heat envelops you and your brain goes into overdrive. No way is this real.

"Shhh," she whispers, leaning in until her lips are hovering close to yours. "I want to help," she says with a mischievous smirk.

She starts slowly stroking your dick. At first, it feels strange and foreign, but gradually melts into pleasure as the friction increases. Belle continues to stare, watching as the corners of your mouth twitch and twist, as if studying her own effect on you. Every time your breath hitches she seems to gain more confidence. She grips tighter and works her wrist faster, building up a steady rhythm.

"See, we can share this room." She keeps moving her hand up and down in perfect strokes, varying the pace every few seconds. Sometimes fast and firm, then slow and gentle. It's enough to drive anyone mad. "Isn't it great?"

"This is so messed up," you manage to groan out as your hips lift involuntarily.

"Is it?" She kisses the corner of your mouth. "Doesn't seem that bad to me."

She's right. It feels incredible. Despite everything, you don't want her to stop. You lean into her, desperate for her to kiss you, but instead, she pulls away, giggling softly. That only serves to frustrate you further, which seems to encourage her even more. She quickens her pace and leans closer to you again, stopping inches away from kissing distance once more.

Your eyes grow heavy again, but this time it's not sleep that overtakes you. Instead, it's bliss.

"Belle, what the fuck..." you whisper. Pleasure is burning hot in the base of your gut. Her wrist rolls as she jerks you off harder. "Why..."

She lets you go, hand slipping out of your shorts as quickly as it entered. "Here." She cups your hand in her own and pulls it towards her chest. "Feel free to touch." You know what happens when you allow temptation to guide your actions. Sullyoon is a case and point.

Despite that, you're unable to resist.

Her breast fits perfectly in your palm. So soft. Your fingers graze over the sensitive nipple. The moans that follow sound heavenly, even more so when accompanied by her coy smile. Without warning, her lips press against yours, sealing off any sort of protest. Her tongue dances across your bottom lip and into your mouth. Soft. Wet. Hot.

Heat pools between your legs. Her hand returns to its former place around your cock. She's so slow now, achingly deliberate. Your mind spins endlessly; overwhelmed by desire.

When you pull back, she gives a sly wink, "Tell me what you think, hm?"

"It feels so fucking good," you sigh. She responds with another kiss. The room fades to silence beyond your muffled moaning and wet kissing sounds. Time itself seems to grind to a halt.

"I knew you'd enjoy it," she murmurs into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe before continuing, "Now...how about you return the favour?" Her words trail off as she lifts one of your fingers into her mouth. Her tongue twirls around it for a moment and then releases it with a wet pop.

"Sure," you mutter, too distracted to care about anything else. You slip your hand beneath the duvet and then push at her hip, turning her onto her back. You admire her upper body. From her chest to the curve of her hips, to the dip of her waist, she looks divine. Belle lies back and spreads her legs. And when your hand snakes between her thighs, she raises her arms above her head and grips the pillow tight.

"Fuck," she gasps as your fingertips run along her slit gently, enjoying how she bucks upwards to meet your digits.

"You're soaked," you marvel.

Belle grins wickedly and exhales slowly. "Mhm," she agrees. "And who's fault is that?"

"Me," you respond quickly.

You brush up and down her pussy with agonising slowness, revelling in how her slick fluids cling to your fingers, and coat them in their essence. After a few seconds of exploration, you circle her clit slowly with two fingertips. Her eyes snap shut instantly and she whimpers softly under her breath. It's mesmerising. She squirms wildly, biting down hard on her bottom lip to stifle her squeals of ecstasy.

Then she lets out this long drawn-out moan while she squeezes the pillow tight against the back of her head. "Fuck," she curses.

Your finger sinks inside of her effortlessly.

"T-that feels..." she whimpers between staggered breaths. You pump in and out of her, curling upwards against her walls every single time. Her hips sway to meet your thrusts, matching them perfectly. The sight drives you insane.

You withdraw your finger from her depths and circle it across her folds. Her legs tremble in anticipation.

"Please," she begs. Your cock throbs painfully.

She tilts her head backwards, baring the pale skin of her neck to you. An offering. One you take happily.

You press your lips against her soft flesh, savouring her taste. Her scent overwhelms you. You can feel her pulse thrumming frantically just beneath the surface of her skin. There's something intensely primal about being able to feel someone else's heartbeat racing against your own.

Your teeth clamp down on the area between her jaw and collarbone, holding her securely as you explore every inch of her sex with newfound fervour.

It isn't long until she writhes beneath you, panting heavily while clinging desperately to the bedsheets around her. Your movements grow faster, more frantic. Hungry even.

She threatens to get loud, and you know how bad that could be. There's a reason Sullyoon always comes into your room, it's the furthest from your parents, and even then you find yourself putting a palm over her mouth. Now it's just one thin wall. One thin wall separates Belle's moans from Sullyoon's ears.

So you shut her up the best way you know how.

She seems surprised when your mouth crashes against hers, silencing her squeals with your tongue, but the feeling is fleeting. Her arms wrap around the back of your neck, pulling her closer towards you. She tastes like strawberries and smells faintly of vanilla.

You absorb her moans into your mouth as she cums on your hand.

Her thighs tighten around you, locking your fingers deep within her core. She shudders violently as waves of pleasure wrack through her frame. Slowly but surely she relaxes again, letting out contented sighs mixed with tiny giggles of delight. When she opens her eyes again, her pupils are dilated and wide, shining brightly. She stares up at you dreamily. Her cheeks flushed red. Lips plump from kisses.

"Holy shit." Belle exhales hard before speaking again. Her voice still shakes with euphoria. "Good morning indeed."

"Yeah," you chuckle, rolling back to give her space.

"No," she stops you by placing a hand on your stomach. "We haven't finished."

"We haven't?"

"You haven't." She runs a hand down your body until it's back to how all this started. This time, she pushes your shorts clear of your hips and lets your erection spring free. She's climbing up and over you as she speaks, "Let me return the favour. We're family now."

Then she takes you into her mouth. Your thoughts blur together into a haze of lust and arousal, blinding your vision temporarily. Everything else fades away except for this girl who sucks your dick like she needs it to survive. Her tongue swirls around the crown of your tip teasingly while she bobs back and forth steadily. She hums around you, sending vibrations reverberating throughout your entire length, sending tingles shooting up and down your spine.

As her effort rises, so does she. Onto all fours and swinging a leg over yours. She's giving you this look—this hungry stare. You're hers now. Totally at her mercy. She keeps eye contact as she sucks you deeper than before. Then, without warning, her head lifts away from your cock completely, leaving behind a slick trail of spittle dripping down her chin. She wipes it away with her knuckles nonchalantly. Still wearing that predatory expression. Something about the action, the confidence of it, it makes you shiver.

She starts to stroke you, right before she dips her pretty face down to place her lips on your balls. Then it's her tongue, warm and wet against the sensitive skin. She alternates between tender kisses and loving licks all while staring up past your cock to meet your gaze. It's unbelievably hot.

"Don't cum yet," she whispers sweetly before returning her mouth around your length again.

"Can't promise anything," you groan back.

"Cute," she murmurs around your shaft.

Belle works you for a while. Those smokey eyes watch your every involuntary reaction while she worships your cock. Every twitch gets a quiet giggle. Every choked moan is met with a little lick across the tip.

It doesn't take long until the fire in your belly begins to spread.

"Belle," you strain, barely keeping a hold of your composure. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

"Not yet," she says with a smirk. "Here."

She shifts ever so slightly again, pushing her chest towards her pumping hand. She presses your tip against the hard nipple and jerks you off, alternating between the stiff buds. All you can do is watch, totally transfixed by what's happening before you. Her movements grow quicker and more frantic. Until it becomes almost too much.

You let it out, right onto her pretty little tits. Thick ropes across her flawless skin, painting her while she smiles. Even after you've been spent, she keeps working your shaft until it becomes painful. Oversensitivity has never felt sweeter.

"Oh god." Belle looks down at the mess you've made on her chest. Her grin is devious. She slips off the bed, taking a spare towel from underneath it and wiping at her chest and your crotch. Once you're both clean, she tucks you back in and crawls onto your torso. With a small bounce, she nestles down and lays on top of you. Her chest presses against yours.

"So," she coos, resting her chin on your sternum. "That happened."

You laugh and she quickly joins you. There's a feeling of shared exhilaration hanging between you both. A giddiness that comes from knowing you have just crossed an invisible boundary together.

"That was so fucking hot." Belle brings her palm up to cradle the side of your head affectionately. Her thumb brushes small circles against your temple, tracing patterns along the outline of your cheekbones. After a few seconds, her smile starts to fade. "Do you hate me?"

"Why would I?" You ask sincerely.

"I don't know. You're my step-brother. And I just..."

Her tone makes your heart ache ever so slightly, causing you to reach out for her face and cup her cheek in your palm. "If you hadn't made a move, I would have anyway," you confess.

"You're as messed up as me, then."

She has no idea.

-

Towel and a change of clothes in hand, you start to open the bathroom door when you hear your name. Sullyoon's distinct voice. You hesitate, halfway through the threshold, and turn back to see her walking down the corridor. "So, what, you don't like me anymore?"

"What are you talking about?" You retort defensively.

She puts on this mocking voice. "'Yes Belle, I'll take you to town.' 'Yes Belle, I'll take you to dinner and stand up the sister I actually know.' You've known her for two minutes! Two!"

You feel shame rising inside your chest. It's a weird feeling that just trying to be a good brother (or a bad one) has driven some divide between you and Sullyoon. You try to explain, "She's flown to a whole new country. It's difficult. We have to welcome her. If I didn't have to do it alone then we could see each other more." You sigh, "She really wants to hang out with you, you know."

Sullyoon crosses her arms, looking smug, "Oh, I bet."

"She does," you insist, trying your best not to appear too frustrated with her. "She was excited about movie night and she wants to join us next week." To this, Sullyoon simply scoffs.

"Yeah, right."

There's a pause where neither of you knows what to say. Eventually, it is broken by your stepsister's words.

"Doesn't change the fact that you left me alone on our night." She pouts dramatically, her bottom lip sticking out adorably. You roll your eyes at her antics. Sometimes, her stubbornness can border upon childishness.

"Sullyoon," you say flatly. "Come on. That's not fair."

She shrugs dismissively, clearly unconvinced. "What's not fair is that we haven't done it in almost a week."

You drop your towel and clothes on the bathroom floor and step out quickly towards her. You quickly hold your palm against her plump lips to silence her. "Not so loud."

She grabs your wrist, pulling her mouth free. "Our parents are out, calm down." But then she uses the leverage to yank you forward, right into her arms. "Maybe you should make it up to me."

"Sullyoon." You chastise. Boundaries exist for a reason, and doing this out here in the hallway is not what you agreed. You pry her away and walk back into the bathroom.

She follows each step, and as soon as you turn back to close the door, she's already slipping through and closing it herself. Before you have a chance to protest, Sullyoon's hands grab your face and bring you into a fierce kiss. She wastes no time sliding her tongue between your lips, demanding entry. You resist for only half a second before giving in fully, allowing yourself to become consumed by her passionate embrace. Her fingers grasp tufts of your hair tightly, tugging at the strands gently enough that it sends pleasant shivers running down your spine instead of hurting.

"The hell are you doing?" You eventually ask when she breaks away from your mouth, albeit reluctantly.

"Making up for lost time," she whispers as she slips down to her knees, grabbing the sides of your shorts.

You panic. "Hey, hey—" you exclaim as you stop her. She looks at you confused as to why you aren't happy with getting blown. She furrows her brows and then forcefully tugs them down. Your soft cock springs free, hanging mere inches from her waiting lips. Sullyoon licks them in anticipation while keeping her eyes trained solely upon yours.

But that's when she notices something.

There's a brief moment where the two of you lock gazes; where there should be nothing but lust swimming amidst those hazel irises, there is concern. She inhales sharply, catching a scent which throws her into alert mode. You can practically see the gears turning within her brain.

She stands up immediately, stares you dead in the eyes and says, "What the fuck is that?"

"What?"

"Don't play dumb with me, dumbass. You smell like sex and there's lipstick on your cock."

Shit.

"Belle!" Sullyoon calls as she marches back down the hall, bursting into your bedroom. You almost stumble over your shorts and rush to pull them back up to your waist. You dash behind her, terrified at what will happen next.

You round the corner into your room and Sullyoon is standing at the foot of your bed. Belle has her phone in hand, still lying in bed, with the covers up to her chest.

"Slut!" Sullyoon snaps.

"Excuse me?" Belle sits up straight, clutching the duvet to cover herself up properly, glaring back at your sister angrily.

"You heard me. Stay the fuck away from him. He's mine. My brother."

You wince in the silence. Belle just stares at the furious Sullyoon while the gears turn in her mind. Glancing back and forth between the two of you, she's clearly piecing it together. She smirks and then chuckles. "Oh my god! You're fucking him!"

"That's none of your business." Sullyoon retorts sharply.

"Now it all makes sense," she says while pointing her finger and waggling it between you and Sullyoon. "Do I threaten you?"

"No." Sullyoon lies, rather poorly.

"That's cute," Belle laughs. "So, what, you're in love with your brother?"

"No!" Sullyoon snaps, more assured of herself that time. "That's gross."

Belle gives you a look. "So it's just about the sex? What's the big deal?" She asks bluntly. "Clearly he has a type." She gestures to you and smirks again. "There's enough of him to share."

Sullyoon scoffs at her proposal. "Share?" she repeats incredulously. She glances back at you and you offer nothing but a shrug in reply. "Absolutely not," Sullyoon responds firmly.

"Why?" Belle questions innocently.

"I don't wanna."

"Come on," Belle whines, letting her frustration show for once. She throws up her hands dramatically as she argues passionately, "Look, I understand wanting to keep him all to yourself, believe me! He's adorable." As she speaks, her eyes rake up and down your body appreciatively, making heat rise to your face rapidly. "I'm not trying to steal him or anything. Actually, we might just have more in common than you think."

Sullyoon rolls her eyes. "Unbelievable," she sighs.

"Just picture it," Belle insists. "The three of us, here, together."

"What are you suggesting, exactly?" Sullyoon crosses her arms. She isn't going anywhere.

"A threesome."

"Belle..." you caution, but it goes unheard.

"You can even go first," Belle offers casually.

This is ridiculous. Completely absurd. You watch the scene unfold in disbelief. Sullyoon appears to mull the proposition over, her foot tapping impatiently against the carpet as she thinks. There's no way she will agree. Not in a million years would she even consider such a thing... Right?

Sullyoon closes her eyes briefly and inhales deeply through her nose before exhaling slowly. She looks between both of you several times until she finally meets your gaze again and nods decisively. "Fine. Let's do this. Right here, right now." Her tone has turned resolute, decisive, confident, and bordering on cocky.

Your mouth falls agape. Is this really happening?

"Wait. Really?" Belle seems equally shocked by this sudden change. Apparently neither one of you expected her acquiescence quite this quickly or easily.

You look between the two girls. Back and forth. They're doing the same. It's this strange triangle of hesitancy and confusion.

"So how do we...?" Sullyoon trails off, obviously unsure as to how things work from this point forward. She's used to your shared normal, your routine; just the two of you having sex. Spontaneity demands creativity.

"I don't know. It's kinda..." You chime in but don't know how to explain it.

Belle rolls her eyes at the two of you. "Oh my god. Come on." She scoots closer toward the edge of the bed, pulling the duvet away. It slides off her shoulders revealing the perfect curve of her bare breasts. It's not like you've forgotten the sight of them not long ago (nothing about Belle is forgettable) but it sure does hit differently under the context of the situation. She gestures to the bed behind her. "If you two want to fuck, just fuck."

Sullyoon shoots daggers at Belle but still decides to approach regardless. When she reaches you, she grabs your hand roughly and drags you onto the mattress with her. It's all so easy, so natural, falling into a tangle of limbs with her. Even if Belle is watching, even if she's sitting right there. None of that matters anymore because once your mouths collide, everything else fades into insignificance.

You taste the sweetness of her saliva. Feel the warmth radiating off her skin. Smell her familiar perfume, lavender and honey. She's all around you, encasing you completely and enveloping you entirely until all that remains is her. The kiss grows more intense, tongues wrestling as she straddles your lap and grinds her crotch down onto yours eagerly. Desperately seeking relief from the throbbing between her legs.

Then her fingers snake beneath your shirt and lift it over your head, breaking contact. She flings the clothing across the room carelessly before returning the attention to your lips once more. As she leans in for another embrace, you remember exactly where you are, who's there with you, and why they're here.

"Belle—" you start, breaking away mid-kiss. You gesture to her awkwardly as Sullyoon starts mouthing at your neck.

"Mmm?" She answers as she crawls towards your outstretched hand.

"Are you okay with this?"

She takes it upon herself to grab hold of your wrist and guide your palm right onto her naked breast, guiding it around with her own grip. She holds you there until you get the memo, massaging it gently between your digits whilst rubbing her fingertip atop your finger delicately, coaxing you to tweak her erect nipple. "Very," she finally replies.

"This is so weird," Sullyoon remarks, lifting away from your shoulder as Belle moves to her side and perches on her knees.

"It was already weird before I got involved," Belle jokes back, giving you a mischievous grin. She brings her free hand up to cup Sullyoon's cheek.

Sullyoon shies away, "I won't kiss you."

"I wouldn't expect it."

They look at each other for a moment, as if silently coming to some kind of understanding that transcends verbal language altogether. After a few more seconds pass by without further incident, you see them exchange conspiratorial smirks, as though they were sharing some hilarious joke at your expense.

Sullyoon pulls her top over her head, while Belle makes a move at your shorts. For the second time this morning, she's pulling your cock free from them, only this time, she's presenting it to Sullyoon. Her hand wraps around the shaft and starts to jerk it up and down, eliciting a low moan out of you which catches their collective attention. Belle smiles slyly.

In her delicate lace bra, Sullyoon lowers her head, opens her mouth and presents her tongue. Belle presses your tip onto her tongue and Sullyoon is quick to lap at it hungrily. She slides her hands up along your thighs, gripping firmly as she takes you deeper.

"That's hot," Belle murmurs softly, still pumping you.

All you can do is bite your lip and watch as your stepsisters service your length together, competing for its pleasure and attention. They swap turns, passing you back and forth while occasionally meeting in the middle, sucking along either side. It's a little awkward, the way they get in each other's way, but somehow that makes it hotter. Seeing their cheeks squish together, heads bump and lips brush accidentally while fighting for dominance over your dick.

At one point, when Sullyoon has sucked you all the way to the hilt, you notice Belle burying her fingers into Sullyoon's hair. Then the hand slides further, until it cups the back of your sister's head. Then she pushes, holding her in place while she swallows your entire length. Sullyoon panics at first, spluttering slightly against your shaft before she relaxes, settling into the gag, taking it for a bit longer before Belle releases her.

"Fuck!" Sullyoon gasps once she has the freedom to breathe. Strings of spittle connecting her open mouth to the tip of your cock. "Why?"

"Because it's hot," Belle shrugs.

"She's right," you manage to groan out. "Very hot."

"See?" Belle states triumphantly. She places her hand behind your sister's head again, "So do it again."

Sullyoon doesn't put up any resistance. Belle pushes her down, holding her down again as you enter deep into the wet confines of her throat. Sullyoon grips tightly at the flesh of your thighs and tries to relax her body. Despite the initial discomfort, there's no denying that having someone else dictate the terms of her oral servitude adds another layer of eroticism to the whole affair. Belle lets her resurface with a deep gasp for air, spit smeared across her chin, a thin strand dangling precariously between the underside of your erection and the tip of her tongue.

"Look at how pretty you are like that," Belle coos condescendingly while stroking Sullyoon's hair affectionately, almost lovingly even. In spite of everything else, the humiliation of being reduced to such an object, you catch Sullyoon blushing at the praise. Even more shocking, Sullyoon seems to lean into her caresses willingly.

"You've made her blush, Belle." You joke lightly, breaking some tension. It earns a glare from Sullyoon. The humour is short-lived.

After another couple of rounds, during which you have to fight every instinct within yourself not to cum in either of their mouths, Belle asks, "Can I see you ride him?"

One thing is becoming clear: Belle loves to watch.

Sullyoon sits up and wipes the excess saliva from her jawline with the back of her wrist, still panting slightly from being choked so thoroughly. After regaining some composure, she merely nods her consent. There's an underlying tension, however subtle, woven throughout their interaction now but a hint of mutual respect borne from seeing the other's ability to please you so well.

As Sullyoon stands, Belle seems to ponder. On her knees, staring at her sister's body, as if admiring every aspect of her figure; slender legs, tight waist, and cute ass. You get it. You've been there. Gawking at Sullyoon from afar, stealing glances while nobody notices, fantasising about those very curves. And yet it's surreal seeing somebody else experiencing it in front of you.

When Belle speaks up, she points to Sullyoon's shorts. "May I?"

"Go ahead," Sullyoon mutters nonchalantly, almost absentmindedly. Her full focus seems to revolve around climbing onto your lap. Meanwhile, Belle carefully peels away the fabric that clings to Sullyoon's lower body, easing her out of them until her legs come free. In a series of graceful motions, Belle has exposed Sullyoon down to nothing—helped because Sullyoon never wears underwear in the house.

As Sullyoon settles over your hips, resting on her knees, Belle crawls up next to you, positioning herself comfortably alongside your body. She props herself upright, leaning sideways against your torso for support. With a finger, she traces shapes across your chest, drawing abstract patterns into your skin idly while keeping her eyes locked exclusively forward, entranced by Sullyoon above you.

She takes hold of your dick at its base. Taking her time to drag both it and herself against each other, exchanging spit and slick fluids that coat them. There's a little sway and rotation to her hips, teasing incessantly until the anticipation threatens to drive you mad. The soft skin of her tummy looks so tasty from here, rising and falling slowly as she breathes and moving as she rolls her body.

There comes a point where enough is enough.

Just as you reach to grab yourself and guide it inside of her, Belle stretches her hand down between Sullyoon's legs and takes hold of your cock instead. She slaps your tip against your sister's swollen clit. Up and down, hitting the sensitive button repeatedly. All it takes is one errant flick downwards, however accidental (or not), and now your cockhead is nestled snugly into Sullyoon's entrance.

Belle draws her palm back up over your body. "Sorry, my bad," she giggles. Except you know better, seeing the smug twinkle that sparkles behind her irises. Before you can say anything more, Sullyoon succumbs to gravity and the pleasure it brings. Her hips sink down. Accepting inch after inch of you inside of her welcoming pussy until every last bit fits snuggly within her walls. She groans quietly.

It's all so familiar—the sensation of being enveloped by her velvety folds—but still wonderful nonetheless.

The shift of pressure when she begins to grind on top of you reminds you of those many times in the evening darkness, those instances when all that mattered was staying silent. Now you have an audience. Somebody watching intently from your side.

Belle watches the action unfold, a gasp here and giggle there. Sullyoon's body arches back subtly whilst she rocks her pelvis back and forth rhythmically atop yours. Her eyelids droop heavily as ecstasy surges through her veins, causing goosebumps to prickle over her smooth flesh as she rides.

"You like riding your brother's dick?"

"Y-Yes," Sullyoon stutters out, too preoccupied to register fully what she said. This sets off the deviant in Belle. You sense her growing bolder, more confident with her lecherous remarks knowing they'll be met with little to no resistance.

"You gonna cum on it?"

"Yes!" Sullyoon cries. Every downward motion presses her clit against your pubic bone, sending waves rippling through her petite frame. You grip her waist firmly, helping her. Her ass collides loudly against your thighs when she bottoms out each time. There's hardly any need for you to buck your hips and meet her.

"Yeah, you love fucking your stepbrother, don't you?"

Sullyoon only whimpers. Whatever argument or shame she might muster has fallen prey to her own desires. Now that she's been given permission—to indulge these fantasies openly with others—it appears as though she'll never go back. How can anyone turn away from such bliss?

And to your own amazement, neither of you seems fazed by the fact Belle bears witness to everything transpiring before her eyes.

"So dirty. Such a bad girl." Belle's tone is sultry sweet like honey dripping off a spoon. She leans closer and plants her lips against yours softly. It takes a second, a single heartbeat passing in silence where your tongue darts forward to greet hers. Suddenly the kiss has become something fierce and passionate—an exchange filled entirely with unbridled hunger that knows nothing besides passion itself. Nothing exists beyond its carnal needs right now except for maybe one thing...

An explosion erupts deep within Sullyoon; an eruption so violent that it causes her entire form to shake uncontrollably atop you. Her moans fill your bedroom, and her whole body draws tense before collapsing limply upon you like a marionette whose strings had just been cut loose by some unseen force. She quivers and writhes atop your throbbing shaft.

"Must be one hell of a ride," Belle comments through laboured breaths.

"Find out for yourself," you respond, matching her energy.

"Mmmm," she purrs thoughtfully whilst absentmindedly tracing circles across Sullyoon's exposed backside. "Let's switch, 'kay?"

You're quick to respond. Grabbing onto Sullyoon's ass cheeks, digging your fingertips firmly into each supple mound as you hoist her upwards. Your cock slips effortlessly free, causing a shudder to run through you both simultaneously before pulling apart completely. A mixture of sexual fluids oozes messily down her thighs when you set her aside on the mattress.

Now it's Belle's turn.

The atmosphere shifts drastically as she straddles you. Where previously things had taken on this languid dreamlike state—with Sullyoon's gentle undulations atop your cock, punctuated by moans echoing throughout the room—now the urgency returns anew.

Once Belle has mounted you correctly, sinking down until she reaches hilt-deep within herself, then she starts gyrating wildly. Hips rolling furiously fast and grinding her sex hard against yours, driving you deeper than ever before.

Her tits bounce deliciously from the impacts and her lips purse prettily with exertion. From nothing to everything in the blink of an eye. She's leaning over you, pressing her forehead against yours and staring right into your soul as she rides your cock mercilessly. And those eyes—those beautifully smokey eyes—are burning with lustful fervour.

Belle's hot breath mingles sweetly together amidst the haze surrounding you two. Then her lips crash against yours in a searing kiss that steals away whatever remaining oxygen you have left within your lungs. Tongues dance between teeth, entwining passionately against one another until you're forced apart by necessity.

"How is he?" Sullyoon speaks up. She sounds remarkably coherent despite appearing like a spent mess lying sprawled out beside you two.

"Fucking huge," Belle gasps in response without breaking stride. Her pace doesn't slow at all, if anything she speeds up even more in defiance to accommodate your size better. Her voice wavers slightly when she speaks again. "He feels so good," she murmurs softly against your earlobe.

"Give me his face," Sullyoon demands, crawling closer to you, propping her body upright next to your head. Once her hands cup your cheeks and tilt your face up, she swings a leg over your head and positions her snatch directly above your mouth. Then she descends downwards gently, pressing herself flush against your lips.

As soon as contact occurs between tongue and slit, Sullyoon jolts upright suddenly as bolts shoot straight towards her core. Eagerly lapping away at her glistening cunt causes a ripple effect throughout her whole physique, making her hips gyrate involuntarily against your open mouth.

Belle continues slamming herself down hard atop you, rocking your entire foundation relentlessly. She throws her head backwards as the momentum builds steadily higher and higher. Unrestrained groans spill freely from her throat unchecked as pleasure overwhelms every other rational thought inside her brain. Meanwhile, you feast on the nectar that flows forth copiously from your step-sister's pussy, savouring the ambrosia coating thickly around your tongue as you slurp it greedily down.

Time loses meaning while submerged beneath the sea of sensations cascading over you ceaselessly—nothing existing beyond the confines of flesh pounding against flesh nor the taste saturating every inch of your being.

You claw for some sort of respite, finding your fingers digging into Sullyoon's ass as a makeshift warning of the feeling in your body. You're close but they won't stop, in fact, Belle works harder.

Everything escalates tenfold. Everything gets faster; harder; wilder.

It drives you absolutely insane.

Your cock spasms violently inside of Belle's convulsing sex. Simultaneously, she's screaming something incomprehensible—not quite words necessarily but definitely conveying something meaningful nonetheless. The surge of euphoria crashes through you like waves crashing upon the shore during a stormy night—ferociously crashing through every fibre of your being with unrestrained vigour. Cum floods her depths in hot thick spurts and her body tenses rigidly, shaking fiercely whilst gripping tightly onto you for stability. Sullyoon trembles too, twitching sporadically and squealing loudly through clenched teeth before eventually slumping forward once again, collapsing heavily upon your face while riding out her orgasmic peak alongside yours.

Seconds feel like minutes, minutes seem like hours.

Eventually, the intensity fades, replaced instead by gentle numbness which fills the void afterwards. You lay there, breathing raggedly—heart hammering heavily within ribcage and sweat trickling down skin dampened thoroughly, amongst bodily fluids staining sheets soaked in evidence of prior debauchery. Eventually, your sisters roll off of you.

Silence prevails for several long moments afterwards. No sound penetrates beyond shallow breaths. Nobody says anything; no words need be uttered aloud to express emotions present right now anyway.

***

Three days later, you wake up in bed, sandwiched between your sisters. Legs intertwined, warm skin brushing against one another and soft chests pillowing against your sides. Asleep.

This isn't unusual—not anymore. How quickly it has all become routine to sleep squished between them.

It's also not weird or uncomfortable. At least, you try to convince yourself of that. Because otherwise...well...

You decide not to finish the thought. Instead, you opt to focus solely on enjoying the sensation of having both beautiful girls wrapped snugly around you. Revel in their warmth and breathe deeply their scent. Cherish this dirty, taboo arrangement for all it's worth. There will surely come a day when everything falls apart; when reality inevitably comes knocking at the door. But until then, why not indulge? 

[thekinslayed]

The Ails of a Cup of Red

summary | Aemond's esteemed visitor on his coronation day falls ill, and he has a way to make her feel better.

pairing | king!aemond targaryen x foreign princess!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, oral (f), nipple orgasm, dubcon, use of aphrodisiac, dark!aemond, multiple orgasms, manipulation, gaslighting, thoughts of incest, aemond thinks all siblings fuck, mentions of pillow humping, breeding kink, babytrapping, this is so filthy u guys idk

wordcount | 6.5k

note | still on vacation and haven't been in the headspace to write so this might not be the best, but i wanted to get something in before the new season!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

(divider by @zaldritzosrose)

Your nose scrunched in disgust at the smell of manure that wafted through the slits in the carriage. A sigh left your lips at the image of the Red Keep growing bigger as you passed through the Kingsroad. You wished your brother didn’t have to bring you on this diplomatic visit to Westeros, but alas, there was a new Targaryen king who was to sit on the Throne, and as the king and princess of your kingdom, you were expected to show a gesture of good faith to your house’s longstanding friendship with the dragonlords. Your family’s friendship with the Targaryens ran centuries deep. The dragons may have thought themselves mightier than men and equal to none, but they bore respect for your family. After all, your kingdom was prosperous long before Valyria had been reduced to ashes, longstanding on its own as it continued to be. 

This respect had saved you from being conquered by Aegon and his sisterwives but instead had welcomed them as friends of the kingdom. It had protected your lands from being rained on by dragonfire, and from fighting the war where the dragons had danced perilously and ended with a one-eyed Kinslayer emerging as the sole victor of the crown.

The last time you were in King’s Landing, you were only a girl, eight years of age. Your late father had been good friends with Viserys the Peaceful, the two men finding an acquaintance in each other with their shared interests. You remembered that visit quite vividly, especially the cold hostility in the air within the castle, one that seemingly did not affect their king. It was visible in the sharp stares between princes and princesses, the queen and the heir. It permeated the pliable minds of the children, making way for an unnurturing environment no child should find themselves in. Those blurring memories made you dread the moment your carriage stopped at the gates of the Red Keep, though there was little you could do. You slumped back into the plush cushion of the seats, covering your nose with a handkerchief.

“Do remember to be nice to them, Aemond.”

Aemond gritted his teeth when the tailor poked him again. He stood as still as a statue in the middle of his chambers, while his mother made some final adjustments to the future king’s garments for his coronation. He nodded obediently at his mother’s instructions, ever the dutiful son. 

“Have our guests docked into the bay?” he asked, earning a nod from his mother. Aemond was made aware that their esteemed visitors were on their way through the Kingsroad and would soon be welcomed.

“You remember your time with the princess, don’t you? You both seemed quite fond of each other,” Alicent mentioned, to which Aemond responded with another nod and a hum. He remembered you, not much, but he did. In his youth, the royals from the far east of Westeros had visited as a gesture of good faith with the Targaryens. His nephews had pestered the young princess with wanting to show off their mounts, but you had been petrified by the prospect of coming face to face with their beasts, falling into tears of fright. Instead, you had stuck by Aemond, who had been dragonless and quite apprehensive about babysitting a little girl around. Still, you had been good, sitting quietly beside him whilst you read peacefully in the Keep’s library and eagerly following him around his home. Overjoyed with having found a companion in Aemond, you had given the young prince a big hug upon your departure, as well as the promise of reuniting.

“She had even written to you when you–”

“I remember, mother. There is no need to remind me.”

Alicent cut her words short from Aemond’s sharp tone. The Dowager Queen could feel the impatience emanating from his rigid form the longer the tailor took to adjust his doublet. Her son had no patience in being fussed over, especially not when he was to be king. Alicent could only sigh, and let silence encompass the ever-growing space between them.

There was a sense of familiarity as another one of Alicent Hightower’s sons was to be crowned king of the Seven Kingdoms. Her second son, her favored one, and the last of her babes left alive. The sharp tension in the air felt like an odd moment of deja vu. When Aegon had been crowned, she feared for the war that was sure to come, and now with Aemond soon to be crowned, she feared him. The war had changed her son, had taken away any ounce of tenderness her sweet boy once held. He had become the terror of the realm, the Stranger descended upon earth with nothing but death following his trail. When Aemond took to the God’s Eye, Alicent prayed. She prayed for the battle to end the bloody dance they had found themselves in. She prayed that the gods take the biggest threat to the realm away from them; whether she meant Daemon or Aemond, she dared not speak. 

The pit in your stomach grew into a clammy flutter in your chest once the carriage stopped right at the foot of the steps of the Keep. You were announced with a thunderous boom in the vast open yard, which made you let out a nervous sigh and run a hand through the ends of your hair.

“I still do not see why you had to bring me, brother,” you mumbled, looking at your lap when your king fixed you with a pointed stare.

“You know why. We have to keep ourselves in good faith with the Targaryens, even more so now than ever. Now, no more frowning,” he commanded, just before the door of your carriage was opened. Your brother climbed down the steps first, before holding out his hand for you to take. You took another breath to calm yourself, before plastering a bright smile on your face and stepping out of the carriage.

“Not a very warm welcome, is it?” your brother commented. To even call it a welcome was an understatement. The only people around were the Kingsguard lining the steps, and the two members of the royal family stood on the top. From the distance, the silver-haired, one-eyed Targaryen stood out like a beacon of light against the drab red bricks of the castle. Your eyes couldn’t help but immediately cast to him once your feet touched the pebbled ground. Their future king stood tall, with his hands crossed behind his back and his chin held high. The green of his leather doublet appeared a darker shade in contrast to his silver mane, which billowed in the light breeze of the late spring air. The most striking feature of all was the strip of leather fastened around his head, covering his left eye.

He looked so different, in every sense of the word.

You could scarcely see the young boy you sat in the gardens with–– no, this was a new person altogether. His gaze was prickly, causing gooseflesh to rise on your skin as you took careful steps towards him and his mother. His tall, rigid figure made for an imposing presence, and as you took the last step towards him, you had to crane your neck to meet his eye. You greeted him with a smile, yet his face remained unchanging while he put out a hand for you to take.

“Princess, welcome,” Aemond greeted, with a kiss to your knuckles. His lips were soft against your skin, a stark contrast to his otherwise harsh demeanor. A heat tingled on your flesh in his hold, one you ignored as you bent to curtsy.

“Prince Aemond, it is wonderful to be in your presence once more,” you responded. Aemond’s lips quirked up in response to your words, which you figured was his attempt at a genuine smile, though it looked somewhat more like a grimace. You turned to the Dowager Queen, dropping into another curtsy before kissing both of her cheeks in respect.

“It is an honor to have you here for Aemond’s coronation. I hope your travels have been easy,” Alicent said. She looked older than you remembered, much older than she actually was. The war had definitely taken its toll on the Hightower queen, cementing its place on her conscience in the form of the crease between her brows in a persistent worried look on her once plump face. Still, she regarded you with a comforting downturned smile, motherly and warm. You were always fond of Alicent, her presence reminding you of your own late mother’s. She gifted you a pretty dress once, you remembered, and had let you play the harp in her chambers while Helaena watched on in amazement.

Helaena. The loss of the queen’s only daughter was a loss you felt that still hung heavily in the air. You had heard of the atrocities inflicted upon her and her babes, the news bringing you to tears when you had heard of her passing. You missed her, Aegon too, in all of his frivolities and drunkenness.

“The travels are of no worry, your grace, we wouldn’t have missed prince Aemond’s coronation for anything else. Isn’t that right, sister?” your brother replied, turning to you with a raised eyebrow. You nodded in agreement, turning to the prince before you, whose stare upon you was unwavering. A tingle in the back of your neck rose to your occiput, one you ignored with another smile to the dragon prince.

“It shall be quite a momentous day on the morrow, I am glad to be present for it, your grace,” you said, to which Aemond responded with his word of gratitude. He intimidated you, he always had, but even more so now. His gaze alone had you flustered, his towering presence making you want to shrink in your skirts, and as you were led inside the Keep, you clung to your brother’s arm before the silver-haired prince could offer his.

You have always considered the court of King’s Landing quite dreary, lacking any lively splendor and charm that decorated the halls of your kingdom. The air in the Red Keep was thick with a rigid tension, the prickling heat of the south and the constant stench of shit and decay making you wrinkle your nose and shift uncomfortably in your garments. To rule with terror was never the way of your kingdom. Respect was never demanded, it was earned, so as your father said, but Aemond, he had earned the respect in the darkest of ways. The home of the dragon lords and its constituents had grown dourer upon your second visit, only ever heightened by the imposing presence of the man walking beside you. Where your people greeted you in the halls with genuine cheerfulness and adoration, there is more fear in the eyes of this kingdom’s people when they come across the Kinslayer, casting their quivering eyes to the floor lest they catch his sharp gaze. It interested you, albeit terrifying. 

You are pulled from your thoughts upon hearing Alicent’s words. Aemond remains unmarried, she said, and she hoped he would find his queen soon and perhaps have his heir.

“Mother, please,” the crowned prince grunted, throwing her a stern look. You accidentally caught his eye, but you quickly trained your gaze back to your feet. “Our guests have no interest in hearing of such matters.”

“Oh, hush, Aemond. The princess has been welcoming suitors herself, haven’t you, sweet girl?”

A warm flush rose on your cheeks once the attention was turned to you. A gaze on your left burned the side of your face, the expectant look on their faces flustering you.

“Yes, I have, your grace. Since I have come of age, I have had the pleasure of meeting many noble lords from across our land,” you responded.

“Have any of them caught your eye, princess?” Aemond asked, much to your surprise. Up until that moment, it seemed he barely gave you an ounce of his attention, and his sudden interest in the conversation was quite unexpected. Before you could respond, however, your brother had spoken up.

“I have given my sister the privilege of choosing her own husband, one that would please her, but she has been quite meticulous in the process thus far, not one of them has passed her standards,” he said, teasing. You nudged his rib, which only made him snicker. The silver-haired man beside you found no amusement at the young king’s words, his face still as stoic as ever. It almost seemed frozen in place, like a mask.

“My brother hasn’t been too keen on sending me off either, your grace. We are all we have left of our family, after all.”

Your words piqued Aemond’s interest. The young king had always been harshly protective of his sister, this Aemond knew.

Viserys had once tried to offer a betrothal between the princess and Aegon but had fallen through when your brother had caught the king’s first son feeling up a maid at the dinner table, already drunk on wine before the main course had been served. Next, it had been Jacaerys, but the sight of the princeling training with a burly knight who looked too much like each other had concerned your brother, who then informed your father, which ended in no marriage pacts being formed.

Aemond observed how you exchanged a warm look with your brother, how you clung to his elbow. You were kept close to the king’s side, and farther from the dragon prince. This made for a curious sight in Aemond’s good eye. Affairs between kin were part of the queer Targaryen customs, with marriages between siblings a normal occurrence in their bloodline, but yours?

Aemond couldn’t deny your beauty. The first glimpse of you stepping down from the carriage had all but knocked Aemond off his feet. The wind had shifted when you had stepped into his midst, almost akin to the way it had slapped his face when he was falling from the heavens beneath the God’s Eye. He had to will himself to remain unphased in your presence, with your bright eyes and radiating smile. You were beautiful, utterly so.

Was the future king’s blackened heart beginning to beat once more? Perhaps it was. Perhaps it was never capable of doing so, but only to pulsate desire. He couldn’t deny the news of your unclaimed hand intrigued him. He kept a close eye on you at the feast preluding his coronation on the morrow, how you glided through the tunes of the harp in a graceful dance, how you smiled at every noble who had the gull to think they were worthy of such beauty.

You had felt it throughout the night. His gaze burned like droplets of wax upon your skin. You felt it despite being away from him, in the halls, in your own guest chambers. You thought it best to shake off the feeling as much as you could. Perhaps it was the ghosts of the Keep playing its tricks on you, making a prey out of an unassuming guest. As the night grew dark, you willed yourself to lay your mind off thoughts of the one-eyed prince, descending into slumber after a week’s worth of travel, ignoring the creak from a wall panel in your chambers.

Aemond’s coronation was barely a grandiose affair, at least not as grand as your brother’s when he took the throne after your father died. It was rather solemn, rigid, and tense as the people watched with bated breath when the crown of the Conqueror was placed upon Aemond Targaryen’s head. It was heavy, perhaps even heavier than the first time he had carried its weight when he became Regent. The sight of him upon the Iron Throne was menacing, the melted swords beneath him were uncomfortable, but as they all knelt before him, Aemond was pleased. His chest swelled with an oozing pride. This was his place, his crown. He had always known he was suited for it, had fought for his seat with fire and blood.

There was little merriment in the people’s spirits, though it cannot be blamed. The repercussions of the war were still well felt, even more so when the man who had drawn first blood was now their king. The celebratory feast was livelier, at least. It was obvious his mother had taken charge of the preparations, with the extravagant decorations, performers she found from gods know-where, and an endless flow of wine. It seemed like a desperate attempt at normalcy, as though his reign wasn’t permanently tainted with darkness. He wouldn’t have stayed for the celebrations if it were completely up to him, if it weren’t for a presence beside him.

“Are you enjoying the celebrations, princess?” Aemond asked, urging you to turn to him. You took a small sip of your wine, before giving him a nod.

“It is quite wonderful, your grace,” you responded. It was rather drab in your opinion, but you held your tongue. The sweet wine made for a better experience. You didn’t drink much, but something about their liquor made you reach for your cup often. It didn’t take long for you to start loosening up, the warm buzz making you feel more at ease. “The wine is delicious!” you commended, making the man beside you smirk.

“Arbor Red from the Reach, one of the very best we have to offer,” he informed you, a dimple on his cheek deepening when you took another gulp. Aemond was rather handsome like this, you realized, with his thin lips lifted, his purple eye sparkling under the dim flames. His hand rested a hair inch away from yours, the warmth from his flesh radiating into your own. You watched as he took a sip from his own cup, his throat bobbing when he swallowed. Gods, what was happening?

A warmth began to pulsate through your body, making you start to sweat in your dress. You felt an odd throb in your core, your hands growing clammy. You tore your gaze away from Aemond’s, clearing your throat. “Are you alright, princess?” you heard him say, before touching your arm. It left a searing burn on your flesh, and your chest started to heave as your pulse started to rise.

“I... I don’t…” you stammered, though it felt impossible to get the words out. Beside you, you, Aemond looked at you in concern, his voice muffled by the thunderous thrumming in your ears. The rest was a blur, your mind barely registering what the king had said.

Maester… unwell… chambers…

A hand on your forehead, another on your waist, all leaving its mark on your flesh.

In the dead of night, a panel in the princess’ guest chambers opened, revealing a head of silver hair. Aemond stepped into your accommodation, his eye immediately catching your writhing form on the bed. The sheets were crumpled and damp from your sweat, the furs kicked to the floor. You were only clad in your nightgown, which had grown sheer as the sticky cotton clung to your form.

“Princess,” Aemond whispered, making you turn to him. He loomed over your figure like a shadow, with the threat of taking you into his darkness. Your hazy mind could barely comprehend when he had gotten here, or how, too muddled by the burning throb deep within you.

“Aemond,” you whined, pressing your thighs tight as you lay on your side. “I-It hurts…”

“What hurts, beautiful? Hm?” he asked, tone much too soft than you were used to. His fingertips trailed on your calf, but you had jerked away. The slightest touch left your skin tingling, the dampness in between your thighs only growing with the scent of smoke and sage that engulfed you.

With a hand on your thigh, Aemond urged you to lay on your back to face him, despite your protests. He shifted his weight on one knee to lean over you, his fingertips pushing the sweaty strands of hair away from your face. Your nipples pebbled painfully against your nightgown, and you had moaned wantonly when Aemond had accidentally brushed his knuckles over your chest, skimming your overly sensitive buds. Seven Hells, what a delectable morsel of flesh you were. Aemond could start salivating with how irresistible you looked, with your flushed, teary face, plump bosom, and the curves he traced under his palm.  

Gauging your reaction, he cupped your breast, squeezing the supple flesh in his palm. Your jaw fell slack, a whine falling from your lips. Your thighs squeezed dangerously tight as slick gushed from your cunny at the slightest touch.

“Does that feel better, princess?” Aemond prodded, but you could only moan in response. Slowly, his other hand made its way up your garments, trailing his fingertips up your thigh. His brow raised as his hand met your weeping center, pulling away to show his coated fingers. They shone from the dying embers of the hearth, your juices thick and stringy as the silver-haired man scissored his fingers to show you. Your eyes squeezed shut in shame, unwilling to look as Aemond put his fingers in his mouth to get a taste, groaning. His fingers returned to your slit, tracing and massaging your entrance.

“This is where it hurts, hm? Poor you,” he tutted. His good eye fell upon a pillow thrown to the side, smeared with your arousal. You must have tried to relieve yourself with it, he assumed, and the thought of you humping a pillow made his cock jump in his trousers. He grabbed the cushion, pressing it to his nose to smell your essence. “Gods, you smell heavenly. This wasn’t of much help, was it, darling? You need more.”

Humiliation filled your veins, rendering you unable to look at the man before you. You fisted the sheets tight into your palms, your conscience fighting through the thick cloud of whatever curse was making you feel this way. “Please… I-I need…” you whimpered.

“Tell me,” Aemond urged. You bit your lip harshly, tears streaming down your temples. You need not say it, he knew, he had put you in this predicament after all.

“Help me, please… just help me. I can’t take it, Aemond,” you sobbed, pulling on his cotton undershirt. He only hummed, pressing his aquiline nose against your cheek as he breathed in the sweet smell of your damp flesh.

It was quite a pitiful sight to see you like this, and perhaps he should feel a small bit of remorse, but it was all for a reason. The empty vial in his pocket was a burning reminder of why you had ended up like this, of what he had done.

He had to thank Alys, really. The bastard witch, once he had seeded her, was as eager as he to place the Kinslayer on the throne. Her hopes of putting their offspring on the Iron Throne after Aemond were too obvious. It was all too easy for him to bend her to his will, make her procure any tincture he asked, and slither into his enemies’ minds upon his bidding. She was a good fuck too. It was a shame he had to gut her after his victory above the Gods’ Eye. He had no trust in the dark magick, nor for Strong bastards. Alys Rivers was a cunning woman, but a fool to think the prince king, would take her as his wife. No, Aemond now had someone else in mind.

It was all too easy to slip the witch’s tonic into your cup of wine, which you had drank eagerly. It was easy to blame it on exhaustion from your travels, on the heat in the Great Hall. You had been escorted back to your chambers, the maester unable to do much for your condition, and that was that. You were all his for the taking.

He tore your nightgown off your body in one, exposing your bare form to the night. Aemond’s good eye darkened at the sight of you, his gaze hungry as it ran down your naked body. You had crossed your arms over your chest, the other over your sex, but the king had pulled them away with a tsk.

“None of that now. You need my help, don’t you?”

You let out a sob, shaking your head. Aemond mimicked your refusal, cooing with a sticky sweet tone painting his motives.

“What is that? You do not want my help? Shall I leave you alone then?” he asked, a devilish smirk rising on his lips when you shook your head again, more profusely this time, when he started to pull away.

“No! No, please! I beg of you, do not leave me like this!” you wailed, pulling on any part of him you could reach. Aemond looked at you with a dark satisfaction, one that only grew when you had spread your legs for him, giving him a perfect view of your weeping cunny as you caged him with your thighs.

He had muttered something in mocking, something about helping his most esteemed guest, but the cloudy haze your mind was lost in made it difficult to comprehend anything. All you could feel was his touch on your waist, another on your jaw, and the softness of his thin lips when he smashed them against yours. He swallowed down your whimper as you engaged in a clash of teeth and tongue, his eagerness almost equaling your desperation.

He trailed his lips down the column of your neck, leaving his mark on your flesh. A deep sigh of relief left your lips when he enclosed on one of your stiff buds, rolling it with his warm tongue. It felt utterly delightful, like a poison finally being sucked out of your wound. Aemond gave the other breast the same amount of attention, massaging its pair with his calloused hand. A heat steadily rose from deep within your belly, and with a nip of his teeth on your sensitive nipple, you came undone with a moan of his name.

The one-eyed Targaryen pulled away with a look of amazement on his face. He looked at the mess in between your thighs, where the evidence of your climax mixed with your slick. His throat felt dry, like he had been walking aimlessly through the deserts of the Red Waste before stumbling upon the water that shall fill him with life.

“You are divine,” he exhaled, his good eye still trained on your pulsating core. They clenched around nothing, beckoning him to taste. He looked at you, evidently still overcome with the need for more. He knew you wanted more, needed it. You wouldn’t be better from one release alone, no, Alys’ tonic did not work that way. You needed an antidote, one only Aemond could give you. He shall end your suffering soon enough, but first, he had to get a taste of you.

He wasted no time, licking a hot stripe up your slit. Aemond groaned in delight, the sweet taste of your essence coating his tongue. He devoured you like a man starved, slurping up the tears your cunt had wept in its despair.

“Hells… you taste of the most delightful ambrosia, princess. So sweet, so wet… all for me,” he praised, his voice coming out muffled from the apex of your thighs. You were long lost, moaning unabashedly like a wanton whore. Your grip on your morals had been weakened by the slippery trail of carnal desire.

Aemond’s silver tresses were clutched tight in your hand, a pain the king revered. You ground your hips against his face, the tip of his nose rubbing on your pearl deliciously. He held your thighs in a vice grip, and he shook his head from side to side, making you whine in delight. Shifting his thumb to rub on your clit, Aemond began to fuck you with his tongue, the hot, wet muscle darting in and out of your walls rhythmically. Sparks of pleasure ran from your bundle of nerves wildly up your veins, spreading into a speckled flush across your chest. With a shudder, you released all over the king’s tongue.  Your eyes rolled back as you came once more, your chest heaving up and down from the weight of your second undoing.

Your pulse still buzzed with desire, and you cursed the gods on whatever it was they had inflicted upon you. You whimpered when Aemond pulled away to stand, a panic rising within your chest when he looked to the door. He wasn’t leaving you, was he? Your blood still ran hot with need, and you needed him to take you, take all of it away.

“Don’t go, please,” you begged, reaching out for him. You scrambled to rise to your knees, pulling Aemond in by his trim waist. The cotton of his undershirt was gripped tight in your fists, and his neck grew damp when your teary face buried itself in the junction between his shoulder. “My king.”

Aemond’s chest grumbled from your words, his cock now throbbing painfully, begging for its release. His arm wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against him, his stiffness poking your hip. With a hand on the base of your neck, he urged you to look at him.

“Say it again,” he growled, nipping your ear with his teeth. He squeezed the flesh on your hip tight, making you whimper.

“Aemond, my king! I need you; I need you to take all of this pain away,” you sobbed, hot, desperate tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. You grabbed a hold of his hand, urging it towards your center, but he was stronger. Aemond pulled his hand away, cupping your jaw in his calloused palms to make you look at him.

“The only way for your pain to subside is for your maidenhead to be taken, princess. There is no other way. Are you sure of this?” Aemond asked, looking to you for confirmation. Your mind barely regarded the implications of what was to occur, of what he was taking from you, nodding eagerly without any doubt. You rambled a series of yesses to him, and then he was pushing you to lay on your back once more. The king before you was never one to dally, evident in the way he wasted little time in baring himself. His stiff length slapped against his stomach when his trousers dropped, the mesmerizing sight making you trail your fingers down to play with your cunt in impatience. He was a sight to behold, with well-defined form, and the scars that littered his milky skin; the remnants of war had cemented itself on the king’s physical form.

Aemond grabbed hold of his cock, stroking it while coming to kneel before you. He slapped your hand away from your center, taking hold of your thigh to spread them wide. He couldn’t deny the spark of anticipation in his chest, and if he were a lesser man he would’ve plunged himself into your walls in one push. Instead, he lined himself with your slit, before looking to you for one more confirmation. Your brows were adorably furrowed in frustrated desperation, a small whisper of ‘please’ falling from your pouty lips. With your hand pushing on the base of his spine, Aemond breached your walls.

Your previous releases and the copious amounts of arousal the aphrodisiac had produced from your body made for little hindrance. There was only a mere sting at his initial thrust, but it required little effort for him to bottom out. His pace was relentless from the start, clearly as overcome with desire as much as you were. The slick pooling on the back of your thighs made a wet slap, slap, slap with every thrust of Aemond’s hips.

You gripped the sheets to ground yourself as your body jerked in rhythm with his thrusts, your legs wrapping around the silver-haired man’s trim waist to keep him close. Your jaw fell open, moans freefalling with no regard for decency. Aemond fared no better, growling in your ear and delivering a harsh bite to your shoulder. It was animalistic in nature, something primal and heavy. The bedframe thudded against the wall, and you could only hope no soul would happen upon the halls outside your chambers at this hour.

“This is what you wished for, was it not? You wanted my cock, you needed it,” he groaned, letting out a dark chuckle against your skin when you nodded fervently, followed by a chorus of whiny yesses. He left his mark on your breasts, tugging and sucking on the supple flesh to claim you as his. “Taking me so well, my princess,” Aemond rambled on, muttering dirty nothings into your skin as his thrusts stayed unrelenting.

“Aemond, oh, Aemond!” you cried out, gripping his broad shoulders tight. Your nails dug themselves into his sculpted back, making him hiss in delight. Your core spasmed with your impending climax, massaging his length as it drove into the rough spot within your walls.

“Perhaps I should put a babe in you, hm? Make you mine, all mine,” he taunted in your ear. Perhaps you should be more concerned with his words, but the wave of pleasure threatening to take you over robbed you of your sense and wit, reducing you to nothing but a moaning mess. Aemond’s thumb found its place on your pearl once more, rubbing tight circles into the nub that threatened to send you into overdrive. With another thrust, then two, you fell apart on Aemond’s cock, spilling your white, hot essence all around his length. He followed soon after, painting your walls with his seed in a couple of spurts.

The cloudy haze that had impeded you reduced to a pleasant buzz in your fingertips, your head lolling to the side as your eyes closed in utter bliss. You felt Aemond pull out of your walls, whining when he pushed your combined juices back into your cunny. He laid beside you, pulling you into his chest with his arms wound around your sweaty form. A delighted sigh left your lips when he cupped your jaw, then bestowed a kiss on your forehead, and the tip of your nose, before capturing your lips. Pulling away, Aemond leaned his forehead onto yours, the tip of his aquiline nose nudging slightly against yours. It was pleasant, the way he held you like this, almost more intimate than your coupling.

“Marry me,” he whispered against your lips.

Your eyes opened while your brows furrowed in confusion at his proposition. Your mind lagged to follow along, the remnants of the aphrodisiac’s heady swirl still tainting your better thinking. “W-what?”

“Be my wife. Together, we shall forge the legacy our ancestors have strived to achieve. Our kingdoms shall unite in power, our houses would be formidable allies, and more. This would all be possible with our union,” he explained eagerly. His grip on your face had grown tighter and tighter, his pupil widening, making him look almost crazed. You were starting to grow wary, if it weren’t for the ache in your muscles, you would have dashed as far away from him as possible. Perhaps this was the Targaryen madness everyone said, but in the darkness of your chambers, you could hardly consider him madder than you were.

“I-I don’t…” you stammered. The haze that had clouded your conscience was starting to lift, making you think more clearly. You tried to pull yourself away from his grasp, but his firm hold on your cheeks and your trembling limbs rendered your efforts futile.

“After tonight, you will no longer be untouched, and your future husband will know. A princess who will not bleed on her marital bed,” Aemond iterated sternly, his brows raised. Your lower lip trembled with dread, your hands pushing on his chest–– closer or away, you couldn’t decide which.

You squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to tune him out, but he was everywhere, from his hot breath on your face, his seed in your womb, his curse tainting your spirit.

“You are being cruel,” you whispered, turning your face away. When you had shifted to lay on your back, he had risen to lay on his side, his silver mane framing his face ever so beautifully.

“I am showing you mercy,” he contradicted, cupping your face, softer this time. His thumb caressed your cheek tenderly, and if you had known less the gesture might have brought you comfort. “You needed me, I did what you asked me to, princess. Would you have rather I left you writhing in pain?”

You were starting to grow muddled. He was right, you did need him, had begged for him like a desperate harlot. Humiliation coursed through you for having debased yourself like this, unabashedly so. You think of the shame this would inflict on your name, your brother’s. Gods, what have you done?

“What will they say when my seed takes? Hm? What will your brother think of his sweet sister?” Aemond taunted, rising to loom over you. A curtain of starlit hair enclosed around your head, making you see only him. He was tantalizing, with his sharp stare and a face sculpted by the gods’ own hands. Your resolve was starting to crumble as you pondered on his words. “They need not question your honor when you shall be my wife, my queen.”

You, a queen. It would be a lie to say you had never imagined yourself crowned as such; you have done so all your life. In time, you had learned it would never be, your brother was king, and you were to be married off, reducing your worth to a lord’s wife, but Aemond wanted to make you queen. It was a daunting prospect; you had never thought to become queen of Westeros. Hells, you had no wish to come here in the first place! But the seed had been planted, a dragon’s seed, nonetheless.

The corners of your eyes stung with a fresh wave of hot tears. Aemond had caught them when they started to fall, planting his lips on your cheeks, his tongue darting out to taste the salty fluid. It was reverent, almost in adoration, and when he pulled away, you gave him your answer.

“I will marry you, my king.”

A wicked smile lifted the corners of his thin lips, his dimples making an appearance. Satisfaction painted his good eye, and you realized what you had done. You resigned yourself to your fate, and you could only pray he would be tender with you, like the kiss he planted on your hair when you shifted back to lay on his chest. Aemond let out a deep sigh, thoroughly pleased.

“Sleep, my queen, we shall make our plans for marriage known on the morrow.”