#how she ''allowed'' her to grow up but also never let her move on

[afacelesschampion]

This is a cruel world, especially for the little things. Not all of them are allowed to live.

LONGLEGS (2024) dir. Osgood Perkins

[ellecdc]

Would you be willing write a Remus fic about that super blue moon that is supposed to be happening?? like maybe it’s so so bad for him and he takes it all out on reader and she’s really sensitive and you can go from there lol

that’d be great love but it’s okay if not, thanks!! <3

thanks for the request! decided to make this with our Black!sister reader since we've been having fun with her <3

Remus Lupin x Black!reader who he takes out his Super Blue Moon frustrations on [1.6k words]

CW: Remus was being mean/rude to reader but we don't really see the angst... just the consequences of the angst, hurt/comfort, big brother Sirius having absolutely NONE of the nonsense!

“Hey moons, have you seen my sister around lately?” Sirius asked nonchalantly as he entered their shared dorm room; noticing immediately the tension in Remus’ shoulders as he positioned his body away from the door. 

“How should I know?” Remus muttered darkly. “I’m not her keeper.”

And though Sirius had tried to be cool when he first realised his baby sister and best friend had less than platonic feelings for each other and vowed to stay out of their relationship, there were unfortunately some things that Sirius couldn’t let slide.

“Did she eat all of your chocolate?” He asked calmly, causing Remus to roll his shoulders in an attempt to pacify himself. 

“No?”

“M’kay.” Sirius agreed as he put his school books in his trunk. “Did she throw your books into the Black lake?” 

“Sirius.” Remus hissed warningly.

“Did she tell Snape to sneak out after curfew to the Whomping Willow one night so that he would come face to face with Moony, only for James to have to fight you off of him as Snape ran for his life? Oh, wait, that was me.”

“Fuck off, Sirius.”

“No thanks.” Sirius huffed as he closed his trunk with a thud. “Well, if she hasn’t done any of those things, why are you treating her like such an arse?” 

“I’m not treating her like anything, Pads. Stay out of it.” Remus nearly growled as he stood abruptly from his desk and moved towards his bed. 

“Shan’t.” Sirius refused, following his friend across the room. “You chose to date my sister, you have to deal with the consequences.” 

“Great bloody choice I made.” Remus muttered petulantly, yelping when a book hit him in the head.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He hissed as he looked at Sirius who was staring him down defiantly. 

“If you know what’s good for you, Rem, you will never speak about my sister like that again, got it?” 

Remus seemed to relent as he laid back on his bed and pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to bring his boiling anger down to a simmer. 

“I’m the first to admit that Black’s are not often a good bunch, but if a Black could be perfect, she’s about as close as they would come. And I don’t like seeing her this terrified.”

Remus sat up at that, narrowing his eyes at his friend in confusion. “She’s not terrified of me.”

Sirius shrugged in disagreement. “She tenses every time you walk into the Great Hall and can’t seem to make eye contact with you, which usually only happens after a crucio or two from mummy dearest.”

Sirius watched the fight leave Remus almost immediately as he looked down at his lap in shame. “She’s…sensitive, Rem. We all are, we-” Sirius cut himself off as he stared unseeingly at the stone wall behind his mates head. “We can’t handle these kinds of moods as well as some other people can; tension and anger always led to pain and punishment growing up.”

“It’s not her, Pads.” Remus whispered. 

“I know it’s not. Somewhere deep down she might know that too but…”

“I know.” Remus offered, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “It’s this…this fucking moon, I- it’s driving me barmy.” 

“I understand that, but you can’t take it out on her; it’s not her fault.” Sirius offered gently before retreating from the dorm to allow his friend to digest what he said; he may not like the fact that his best friend and sister found their way to each other, but he also knew that both of you deserved to be happy. If he could help you both achieve that by being supportive, well, supportive he would be. 

。.。:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。.。:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。:+*ﾟ

Remus felt shame course through his body as he walked through the library in search of you. 

Between his senses being heightened this close to the moon, the additional magic at play with the super blue moon, and the fact that he knew you were a creature of habit and had a table you often frequented, it didn’t take him long to find you. 

“Mind if I join you?” He asked quietly, feeling his heart crack painfully when you did, indeed, flinch at the sound of his voice and sat impossibly straighter in your chair.

“Okay.” You whispered in response, not looking away from your book as he moved to sit across the table from you, though he could tell you were no longer reading as your eyes remained glued to one spot. 

“I’m sorry that I’ve been such an arse, Dove.”

“It’s okay.” You said quickly, still not looking at him.

“No it’s not.” He argued softly.

He watched your jaw tighten as you repositioned yourself in your chair in obvious discomfort. 

“It’s this moon.” You explained breezily. 

“Which isn’t your fault, and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you- dove, can you look at me? Please?” 

He watched your throat constrict as you stole yourself and brought your eyes up to his. They were glossy, but not like you were about to cry - glossy like you were hiding, like you were occluding. 

He hated it; hated that you were hiding from him, hated that you felt like you had to hide from him, hated that he made you feel like you had to hide from him, hated that you even knew how to hide inside your own mind at all. 

“Dovey, look at me.” He repeated gently in hopes that you’d let the walls down, daring to reach a hand across the table in invitation. 

He watched as your eyes flit to his hand and back up again and he tried to keep his face neutral; no pressure or force as he let you decide if you were willing to trust him. 

You placed your hand in his, but kept your gaze pointed at your joined hands. 

“I know better than to let my moods affect you, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He pressed sincerely.

You scoffed and moved your gaze to one of the rafters above you. “I’m not some delicate flower you need to tiptoe around, Remus; I can handle a bad mood.” You shot back defensively. 

“I know…” He whispered as he rubbed circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

He knew you weren’t a delicate flower; on the contrary, you were one of the strongest people he’d ever met. 

You gave the entire Hufflepuff house a run for their money on who was the most loyal wix in the castle. You always looked out for your brothers, constantly playing referee, devils advocate, and a surrogate parent for the two young Black boys. You grew up making sure Sirius never acted too outlandishly or brought too much trouble onto himself, making sure Regulus wasn’t completely beaten down into nothing and grew up to be a semi-decent boy, and taking the blame when you were unable to do either of those things. 

And to top it all off, you put up with him; a foul-mouthed, poor, Welsh, anger-issue riddled boy who didn’t deserve you. 

“Baby, look at me, please.” He begged, reaching forward with his other hand so he was holding your one in between both of his.

You turned your gaze to him and it seemed to be taking everything in your power to hold his gaze.

“I’m so sorry, my love.” He whispered, bringing your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your fingers.

Your eyes tracked the movement before flitting back up to his.

You offered him a curt nod and chewed on your bottom lip. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” You whispered, eyes turning glossy for a whole new reason.

Remus made a pitiful sound from the back of his throat and stood to move to the chair beside you, never relinquishing his grasp on your hand. 

“You didn’t upset me, dove, I was just upset. And an arse; don’t forget the part about me being an arse.”

You offered him a wet chuckle at that as you sniffed, returning his hold of your hand and giving it a squeeze. 

“I hate not being able to…help, to take any of the burden off of you, to make it at all less painful for you.”

“You do, sweetheart, you do. By being here, and being with me, and being patient even when I’m an arse, okay?” He insisted, punctuating each reason he was grateful for you with a squeeze of your hand. “I don’t deserve it but I’m so lucky to have you.”

“You do deserve it.” You murmured, bringing your eyes back up to his.

And he couldn’t help himself, really; he had always been powerless against the pull you had on him and this time was no different as he closed the distance between the two of you to press a lingering kiss to your lips. 

“The point of all this,” Remus said as he broke away from you and bumped your nose with his, “is that you didn’t deserve to be treated the way that I treated you this week, and I won’t let it happen again, okay?”

You gave him a sad smile and gave his nose a bump in return.

“How mad was Sirius?”

“Fuming.” Remus admitted immediately.

“Did he throw a pillow at you?”

“A book.” He corrected solemnly, earning him an astonished look from you. 

“Oh…you crossed a line.”

Remus nodded abashedly. “Honestly? I think it might be harder to get him to forgive me than it was to get you to forgive me.”

Remus relished in the surprised laugh that bubbled out of you at that, and he vowed to never ever let another moon cause him to go this long without hearing it again.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

So in The Pro Art says something like “letting you go back to your husband every day isn’t going to be easy is it” - in your mind would he eventually try and convince the reader to leave her marriage for him or would he just kinda accept that she’s not his and keep it as a relationship of infidelity?

the pro

Notes: Got a long-winded answer for you, nonnie.

Warnings: Infidelity; married Reader; coach Art Donaldson

"You could leave him, you know."

It's murmured against your hip. You don't look at him for a few moments; you don't move, and for a few beats, you don't even breathe. It's not the first time he's said it to you, but it catches you off-guard every time.

The first time, he said it right in front of your husband.

The fact that Art had become a near-permanent fixture on your husband's party lists was a blessing and a curse. It was always tantalizing to have him around, but it was also torture. You didn't allow yourself to be drawn away or followed as Art had that first night together. The two of you had agreed after the fact that it had been a reckless act, and that there was too high a risk of getting caught when the house was full of people.

It didn't stop you from fooling around at the house after lessons. It was still reckless, but you'd won the favor and trust of the house staff. They steered clear when Art came to see you, and turned a blind eye if they happened to see him going up or down the stairs.

You came to know every inch of Art's body as well as you knew your own—every scar, freckle, slope—all of it. You learned the taste of salt by lapping a bead of sweat off of the swell of his Adam's apple. You memorized the way a blush spread across his cheeks when you took his cock into your mouth, and the flutter of his lashes as he struggled to against his pleasure to watch—because he liked to watch. You held the memories of his touch, his kiss, his embrace when you went on business trips with your husband, and savored the scant phone calls that you managed to take and make with Art when you were away.

It was enough to get by, and enough to sate you through those parties when he was so painfully close—especially when you were subject to Art palling around with your husband. It was worse still when you'd become the butt of your husband's jokes, though these days, it was about how focused you were on your tennis.

You could see the tightness in Art's expression, the growing cracks in his patience as you forced a smile through tease after tease. But Art had widened his own smile and barbed his words:

"Careful. She could leave you any time she wanted."

You were stunned, and you knew that you weren't covering it well. But your husband hadn't taken it seriously in the slightest. His laughter had covered your shock as he clarified:

"For tennis?"

Art's eyes held your steadily as he lifted his glass to his lips.

"Sure," He agreed after a sip. "For tennis."

--

The next time Art mentioned it, you chalked it up to the heat of the moment.

Art wasn't always mouthy during sex, but sometimes, he seemed unable to stop himself. You had been away from one another for nearly three weeks—no practice or meetings, nothing but a handful of phone calls and a string of texts a mile long.

When you'd returned from your trip, you'd had to wait another week before you'd been able to sneak away and go to his place. You'd hardly been a step inside the door before he was on you. You didn't make it past the front hall before he'd had your tennis skirt shoved up, your panties pulled aside as he drove into you. His body was flush against yours, his hands grasping your hips in a way that you feared would bruise.

"Never letting you out of my sight again," He groaned, "I want you to leave him."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding on for dear life as one of his harder thrusts made the table beneath you rattle, sending a stack of mail sliding to the floor.

But that had been months ago, and he hadn't brought it up since.

As you finally draw in a deep breath now, you force yourself to focus on his ceiling, your fingers tenderly combing over his scalp. You feel him shift against you, his chin resting on your belly.

"...D'you hear me?" He finally presses, and you sigh, knowing that you can't hold off any longer.

"It's not that easy."

"Sure it is."

"No, it isn't."

"You're making it difficult."

"Art."

"You could pack up your shit and walk out tomorrow."

"In theory, sure."

"And in practice. What the hell's stopping you?" Art pushes himself to get a better look at you.

"Besides the fact that I'd be broke?"

"I'll take care of you."

"...You already took care of me," You tease, letting your eyes lower between his legs, a teasing smile on your lips. But when you meet Art's gaze again, your find his expression hardened with annoyance.

"I mean it."

You roll your eyes, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and pushing yourself up.

"I don't have time for this."

"For what? A question?"

"It's not a real question, Art. You're being facetious," You insist, snatching your bra and underwear from where they've been tossed.

"I've never been more serious in my life—Hey, hang on a second," He pleads, taking hold of your arm. You go still, fingers flexing in the fabric of your clothing. Why does he have to do this now? The two of you are meant to be cuddling in your afterglow, not bickering like this.

"I am tired of sneaking around," Art presses closer, the heat of his body beginning to break down the icy wall that you're desperately trying to build up around yourself. "I hate seeing you fake smiles at those stupid parties, and I am sick of not waking up with you."

You squeeze your eyes shut as you force your upset down.

"Art."

"I'm tired of pretending that I don't think about you all the time—"

"Art, don't—"

"And I am tired of pretending that I don't love you."

It takes all of your strength to stay standing. You just manage to shake him off, lowering yourself to sit on the edge of the bed again as you try to keep your cool.

"Why would you say something like that?" You breathe. You feel Art's hands smooth over your knees and thighs as he kneels in front of you.

"Because I can't lie to myself anymore," He murmurs. "And I don't want to lie to you about it, either."

"Sometimes a lie can be a good thing." You scrub your hand across your face, trying to settle yourself. When you lower it, you find Art looking crestfallen. You shake your head, cupping his cheeks.

"I don't mean that," You insist. "I'm sorry."

"Tell me you don't feel it, too."

Sometimes a lie can be a good thing. But you know that if you manage it, you'll break this beautiful boy.

"You know that I do."

You watch Art's shoulders relax before he surges up for a kiss. You whine softly as he eases you back onto the bed, rolling his hips. You shiver as you feel his cock twitching and hardening against your thigh.

"You'll leave him?" He mumbles against your lips.

"Yes."

"Soon?"

"Yes."

"Promise me."

"I swear, Art."

"I love you."

You tip your head back, cupping his face and sweeping your thumbs across the swell of his cheekbones.

"I love you, too."

[ilovewomenfr]

just take your shit and go

click before reading

ex!abby, bottom!reader

men dni!!!! NSFW

cw: pretty vanilla, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), praise kink, make up sex, idk what else

a/n: yall i thought i would be done this on tuesday. ive been so busy this week w work and life ive barely had time to write. this one’s a bit short but i had to get this idea down. i might improve it some time in the future. not proofreading and i kind of dont like it but thats ok. also requests are open as always. AND THANK YOU FOR SM SUPPORT ON YOU ARE SUCH A NERD! I GENUINELY WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT. xx.

you and your ex broke up two weeks ago, a huge fight blew up between the two of you which is why abby is at the door of your apartment, backpack slung over her shoulder, to collect the rest of her things. when you answer the door, you see abby’s gaze rake over your body.

“seriously abs?” you scoff at her, looking down at your abby’s baggy t-shirt, “do i get my shirt back?” she asks as she rolls her eyes at you, gesturing to the band tee. “oh. uh. yeah. i guess” you respond in a quiet tone.

“do you want a drink or something?” you offer and abby shakes her head, her blonde braid moving along with. the braid she would only take out at home when she was with you. the braid you used to tug on when she was drunk off your pussy to see her half-lidded blue eyes. you lick your bottom lip at the thought before shaking it away.

“are you gonna let me come in?” abby asks in a slightly annoyed tone. you get out of the doorway and allow her to come into the apartment. “most of your stuff is on the couch,” you mumble as you point over to the piles of things you threw onto the couch in a blind rage the night she left.

“aw how sweet of you to put everything on the couch for me.” abby says sarcastically, resulting in an eye roll from you. “just take your shit and go.” you grab a couple boxes and put them on the coffee table. you watch as she starts packing away her clothes into the boxes, standing awkwardly. “so this is it then?” you ask,

“what do you mean?”

“all it took was a fight.”

abby walks over to you, crossing her arms and resting her weight on her hip, “you were the one who told me to get out and never talk to you again, if i remember correctly.”

“because i was mad. i didnt actually expect you to go.” you look up to her eyes, trying to find any trace of resentment, but you find none. instead you still find love, “why are you looking at me like that?” she puts her hands on your waist, instinctively your own arms wrap around her neck. “im not looking at you like anything.”

“you are.” you play with her braid, “you’re looking at me like you still care.” she leans in and kisses you, catching you by surprise. the kiss is full of longing and desire. the way she holds you makes you feel as though a fire is stirring within you. she pulls away and sighs, walking back to the couch and sitting down.

“youre so confusing. i mean you tell me to go then dont want me to go? then you dont even text me for two weeks and when you finally do its because you want my stuff out of the apartment.” you nod, knowing you’re in the wrong here. “but i still care about you y/n.” abby leans back on the couch, practically beckoning you to come and sit on her lap.

you make your way over to the couch, sitting in silence as the both of you look at each other, tension growing in the air. “im sorry. i shouldn’t have told you to go.” you apologize, breaking the silence. “i shouldn’t have left.” her voice is softer than before, her hand find its way to your knee and her thumb brushes soothingly along your skin. the apology hangs over the two of you, and once again your eyes meet. abby’s eyes have a look of desire in them, one you know all too well. that’s all it takes for you to climb over and straddle her.

her hands find your hips immediately, “i’ve missed you, ya know.” you say gently, “prove it.” your hands hold her face and you kiss her again, sensually and slowly. abby’s hands run up your back to your hair trying to deepen the kiss. you part you lips and your tongue meets hers. you almost moan at the familiar taste, but you pull away instead, “does that prove it?” she lowers you onto the couch so you’re below her, “haven’t proved it quite yet.” she murmurs as she captures your lips once more. her hands slide up under your shirt as your tongues dance together, palming and squeezing your breasts, the simple action resulting in arousal shooting down to your core. she captures your moans with her mouth, before planting kisses down your neck, suckling the sweet skin.

moments later both your clothes are on the floor as abby kisses your inner thighs, “abs please” you beg, “i need you.” she looks up at you, “mm look at you begging for me, so needy, huh?” she goes back to sucking and kissing your thighs and you push her head towards your soaked pussy, “abbyyyy please.” you beg, “hm? what do you need pretty girl? need me to eat your pussy?” she nudges your clit with her nose eliciting a needy whine from you. “fuck, just eat me out already! please!” your begs are desperate now, your aching cunt waiting for attention. she pulls your legs over her shoulders and laps your slick, the sensation drawing a shiver from you. your hands clutch her hair as she begins sucking your clit, “fuck abby yeah” the moan is involuntary and in response you feel the vibration of her own.

youre a complete mess under her by the time the knot in your stomach snaps, your release dripping out of you pussy and onto your thighs. abby just keeps going, lewd sounds leaving you and echoing around your living room. she slips her fingers into you and curls them, your back arches as she repeatedly hits your g-spot, “so fuckin pretty when you’re falling apart baby” she murmurs softly. she uses her thumb on your clit and it’s like you’re on top of the world, your cries are becoming pornographic at this point and it’s just egging her on, “yeah, you like my fingers filling you dont you?” she nips your hip, “mmhh yeahhh. fuck baby ‘m gonna cum!” she keeps hitting your g-spot and the pressure building up inside of you reaches its peak, you feel your legs shaking as you cum on her fingers, “youre doing so good for me baby.” she lets you ride out your high on her before sliding her fingers out, “fuck i missed you so much abby” you say, she kisses you, “i missed you too”

tags: @jamiesturniolo

[rubysunnday]

take my hand

summary: as much as y/n appreciates anthony's matchmaking efforts, it's hard to accept them when he's the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

a/n: 4.4k of pure angst/fluff and, yes, smut

Promenading was probably one of the most pointless endeavours the ton insisted on participating in. Miss Y/N Moore loved going on walks around the city. But when she was surrounded by the ton and their watching eyes and gossiping mouths, it was hard to enjoy anything.

"Stop glowering," her mother hissed, elbowing her in the side. "Smile."

Y/N sighed. But she raised her chin and smiled politely as they walked past the Featherington family.

There was only one reason why her mother had forced her out of the house: the Earl of Newburgh.

He'd been courting Y/N since the second week of the season. They'd danced together at almost every ball, gone to museum visits together and he'd had dinner at her house. Twice.

They were practically engaged in the eyes of the ton.

Yet Y/N wasn't happy. She liked the earl, there was nothing wrong with him. He was a lovely man. But there was no spark between them. Their relationship just felt like a good friendship.

She had never confessed it to her mother, however. If she did, Y/N was certain her mother would swoon.

"I do not see the earl anywhere," her mother muttered, rising up on to her tiptoes.

Y/N tugged on her arm and forced her back down. "He might not be here yet, mama."

"He did invite you to promenade with him, yes?"

"Yes -"

"Then why is he not here?"

Y/N kept quiet. Sometimes, when her mother got annoyed, she talked to herself, grumbling about anything and everything. It was easier to let her talk aloud and not acknowledge anything - otherwise they'd end up in a fight and Y/N knew how they always ended.

As her mother kept rattling on, Y/N gazed across the crowd gathered down by the lake. There were awnings pitched up along the edge of the clearing, providing shade to the families sitting under them. It was a beautiful day and the lake had numerous boats upon it, gently gliding over the water.

Y/N's roving gaze moved past and then came back to an awning nearest the lake. It, and the carriage, were both light blue. The carriage door boasted the Bridgerton family crest and Y/N's heart stuttered.

It was as if he knew she was looking.

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton looked up. He was sat on a blanket, his youngest sister Hyacinth sat by him, tucked into his side. They were making a daisy chain together. It snaked down Anthony's legs, growing longer as Hyacinth added to it.

It was as if the world stopped for a moment, blurring everything out except Anthony.

"Y/N, darling!"

Y/N jumped slightly. She turned and saw the Earl of Newburgh walking towards her, her mother practically hanging off his arm.

"I found him!"

Y/N tried not to cringe. She kept her composure and smiled at the earl, curtseying as he approached. "My Lord."

"Would you care to promenade with me, Miss Moore?" He asked, smiling at her as he offered her his arm.

"I would love to," she replied, threading her arm through his.

Her mother giggled. Giggled. Y/N tried not to sigh but her composure must've slipped as the Earl patted her hand sympathetically.

They walked down the grass, past the families and toward the water. Y/N could feel guilt eating at her every time she glanced at the earl. She didn't want to inconvience him or hurt his feelings. But she also didn't want to trap him in a marriage that was one sided.

"Miss Moore -"

"My lord -"

They both stopped abruptly, hearing the other speak. The earl laughed, shaking his head.

"Please, go first, Miss Moore."

Y/N sighed. "My lord, I apologise but I... I would rather we remain friends than take this any further. I value you and our friendship," she added quickly, "but I just do not feel any..."

"Spark?"

Y/N smiled and nodded. "I know I am running out of time," she said quietly. "And any other woman would accept your suit and gladly become a countess. But I yearn for a love match, as foolish as that might seem. I want what so many of the ton have and I am not quite ready to give up on that idea yet."

"I do not think you should either," the earl replied. He took her hand in his. "We all deserve a chance at true love, Miss Moore. I can only hope you find it."

"As do I, my lord." She curtseyed. "I hope to see you around."

It was as if her mother knew what had just happened. As the earl walked away, Y/N turned, glancing over at her. She could see the fury on her face even from this far away. Y/N swallowed as she began to walk back to her mother, bracing herself for the fallout.

"Miss Moore!"

She stilled. The voice as achingly familiar. She could smell him and it filled her with a weird warmth.

Y/N turned. Anthony Bridgerton was standing there, hands clasped behind his back, wearing a dark blue jacket.

"Lord Bridgerton," Y/N said, curtseying.

Anthony smiled. "I was Anthony last week," he said, moving closer.

"My mother is watching," Y/N replied softly. She risked a glance over her shoulder. "I just ended things with the Earl of Newburgh."

"Why?"

Y/N turned back to face him. She shrugged. "There was no spark."

Anthony nodded once. He glanced over her shoulder. "Well, would you like to come out onto the lake with me?" He asked, extending his hand out. "To escape your mother for a moment?"

Y/N looked at his bare hand. Slowly, she placed her own bare hand in his, letting him guide her hand to the crook of his elbow. She could feel the warmth of his body even through the dark blue wool of his jacket.

They began to walk towards the dock set up on the edge of the lake. The sun emerged from behind the clouds, sparkling off the water for a moment before disappearing again.

Anthony held her hand as she stepped into the boat. He kept her steady as it rocked, not letting go until she did. Y/N sat down on the chair built into the boat. Anthony sat down opposite her, grabbing the oars.

One of the workers untied them from the dock and gave them a gentle push out onto the lake. Anthony began to row, the oars splashing in and out of the water. Y/N sighed, relaxing back against the cushions, grateful to have escaped her mother's wrath for a moment.

Anthony was quiet for a while. He rowed them away from the dock, weaving through the other boats on the lake.

"What made you deny the earl?" Anthony asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

Y/N exhaled softly, letting her hand trail through the water. "There was no spark," she replied. "I felt nothing but friendship towards him."

"What is it you look for?"

"A love match," Y/N replied, taking her hand out the water and shaking the droplets off. "Despite how foolish it may seem, I yearn for a love match. One that matches the stories I read when I was younger. Whilst I know it will probably never happen, younger me isn't quite ready to give up on the idea yet."

"I do not think it foolish," Anthony said softly. He slowed the oars, holding them loosely in his hands. "Nor do I think you should give up on it."

Y/N found his gaze. The intensity of it almost took her breath away.

"I must admit, however, that I do not think the earl would have made a good match."

His words snatched her out of her dream. Y/N stared at him, affronted.

"Whatever does that mean?" She asked.

"Well, he lives in Scotland -"

"Do you have some personal vendetta against Scotland?"

"Other than the bagpies and the tartan and the constant rain?"

"Anthony, have you ever been to Scotland in your life?"

"Colin has."

Y/N sighed. "Your brother does not count." She paused. "Is Scotland the only reason?"

"Oh, I have a whole list."

"Oh for goodness sake."

Y/N knew Anthony had a soft spot for her. They'd been friends since she'd come out two years previously. He'd been a desired match despite his whining about not wanting a wife. Her mother had forced them to dance together numerous times and soon a friendship had formed.

Even if that friendship sometimes comprised of a very judgy viscount who seemed to make who Y/N was courting his business.

"Anthony, when will you realise that you cannot control who I court?" Y/N asked softly.

Anthony began rowing them back to the dock. "I do not claim to try to."

"But you do."

"If you want me to stop, you need only ask."

"Anthony, that's not what..." Y/N sighed heavily. "I do not get a lot of choice in this world, please stop trying to control the one thing I do get to choose."

"I was not aware I was," Anthony replied, brow furrowing.

Y/N didn't want to say it. But she knew she had to.

"Well, you are," she replied gently. "I appreciate the concern but... I do not have long left to find my true love. And you, Viscount Bridgerton, are not helping things."

She knew it was a low blow. All Anthony wanted to do was protect her. But he kept scaring off countless suitors - sometimes before Y/N could even speak to them. It was a miracle the earl had managed to bypass Anthony at all.

The boat hit the dock. Y/N looked at Anthony and could see the muscles in his jaw clenching. He cleared his throat and stood up, pulling his jacket down.

Anthony climbed out the boat and crouched down, tying the rope back to the dock. He said nothing. Y/N hated the silence. She'd upset him, she knew that.

But she could not allow him to keep matchmaking for her when the only one she wanted was him. It hurt to see him try to marry her off to another man. All she wanted to do was be with him.

She'd denied it for months. The feelings that had begun to blossom inside her. They had become uncontrollable now, taking over her entire being whenever she saw him.

She was in love with Anthony Bridgerton.

The man who was against love, against marriage, against happy ever afters. He had made his intentions clear and Y/N knew he was not going to back down on them for her.

Her heart belonged to him and he didn't even know it.

Anthony held out his hand to her. "Miss Moore."

"Lord Bridgerton." She placed her hand in his.

Y/N stepped out of the boat and onto the dock. As she did so, she glanced down at their hands, fingers still holding on to one another.

Neither one of them wanted to let go. Even as the seconds ticked by. Anthony ran his thumb along her knuckles, hovering over the ring she wore on her middle finger.

Then, as if struck by lighting, they pulled apart. Y/N and Anthony both took a step back together, not realising another couple were directly behind them.

There was a yelp of surprise. It was a tangle of limbs and ropes and suddenly, Y/N found herself hitting the water. For a moment, she was blinded, but then she found her way upright and surfaced.

She turned her head, catching the splash as Anthony awkwardly surfaced from the depths of the lake, arms wheeling. The other man they'd knocked into the water was glowering at them but Y/N didn't care.

In fact, she was finding the entire situation highly amusing.

A crowd had gathered at the edge of the dock, her mother among them. Anthony was angrily shedding his jacket and cravat, slinging them into the water.

Y/N made the mistake of looking over.

His white shirt was near see through thanks to the water. It clung to his torso, highlighting the muscles and giving her a near clear view of everything.

Her cheeks began to burn and Y/N turned away quickly.

"Anthony, are you okay?"

Y/N looked up at the dock. Daphne Bridgerton, Anthony's sister, was stood at the edge, looking down at them, his brother Benedict next to them.

Benedict looked as amused as Y/N did at the whole situation.

"No," he grunted. "This idiot decided to tie his boat where there was no space!"

"You walked into me, my lord!"

Y/N rolled her eyes as the two man began to bicker. She half swam, half waded away back to the dock. The crowd moved back as she put her hands on the edge and pushed herself up onto it, gratefully accepting Benedict's help as he pulled her back onto dry land.

She knew she looked a mess. Her dress was covered in grime from the lake and there was a stray twig stuck in her hair. Yet she didn't seem to care.

Y/N shook her head, pulling the twig out. She looked up as Benedict straightened, giving her a smile. He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet

Y/N watched as Benedict crouched back down and offered a hand to his brother. Anthony slapped it aside, glowering at Benedict as he laughed at his brother's misfortune.

Anthony clambered back up onto the dock and snatched a towel from one of the workers hovering hesitantly nearby. He marched off, giving Y/N a tilt of the head as he passed by.

Y/N watched him leave. A shiver danced through her body and she wrapped her arms around herself. A warm jacket landed around her shoulders.

"So you have a reason to come by," Benedict whispered in her ear as he stepped back.

Y/N smiled up at him, pulling the jacket tight around her.

She knocked on the front door of Bridgerton house, Benedict's freshly laundered jacket in her hand. It wasn't long before the butler opened the door and ushered her inside, taking her calling card.

Y/N waited in the foyer for a moment, admiring the paintings and the walls. Then, the butler appeared again and guided her up the stairs to the drawing room.

"Y/N!"

She'd barely taken one step inside the room before Hyacinth came barreling at her, wrapping her arms around her waist.

"Hyacinth," Violet admonished, hurrying over. "Please do not ambush Miss Moore."

Hyacinth beamed up at Y/N before skipping away, back to her marbles.

"Miss Moore - Y/N," Violet corrected, seeing Y/N open her mouth to do so, "what do we owe the pleasure?"

Y/N held up the jacket. "I believe this is your son's." She paused. "The artistic one."

Violet chuckled, taking the jacket from Y/N. "Thank you," she replied. "I do apologise for what -"

"Oh, it was not anyone's fault," Y/N said, shrugging. "A funny accident was all it was."

Violet sighed. "I wish Anthony saw it that way. He is still rather angry at being pushed into the lake."

Y/N knew that, whilst he probably was angry at that, it wasn't the only thing. Yet, she did not say so aloud.

"I apologise for the lack of people here," Violet continued. "All of them are out. Bar Anthony, he's in his office."

"Not to worry, I only came to drop the jacket off," Y/N replied. She paused, hesitating to ask her next question.

"What is it, Y/N?" Violet asked, her mother's instinct isntantly reading the heistation on Y/N's face.

"I may have said some things to your son that upset him," she admitted softly. "I should not have done so but..." She sighed. "I cannot explain it myself, to be honest."

Violet nodded, eyes full of understanding. "You do not need to. Your relationship with Anthony is a special one. I do hope that this does not ruin it." Violet smiled. "I always think it best to be honest with someone, Y/N. Even if it's scary. It almost always helps things."

Y/N nodded. "Thank you."

As she turned to go, Violet called her name, halting her.

"His office is behind the stairs," Violet said.

Y/N smiled at the older woman. She turned and made her way down the stairs. As she got to the bottom, she turned to the right instead of heading for the front door.

It was easy to spot Anthony's office. The door was slightly ajar and she could see his jacket, abandoned on a chair by the fireplace.

Y/N knocked gently on the door.

"Just a moment, Hy," Anthony called.

Y/N stepped in, peering round the door, holding on to the edge. "Should I be flattered that you assumed I was Hyacinth?"

Anthony looked up sharply, his quill scratching along the parchment in one, thick, ink heavy line. "Miss Moore."

"I believe it was Y/N the other day," she replied, throwing his own words back at him, hoping to lighten the tension.

It didn't work.

"Why are you here?" Anthony asked, gripping his quill tightly.

"I came to return Benedict's jacket," she replied.

His reaction was obvious, despite how hard he tried to hide it. His shoulders slumped and his demeanour changed.

"Ah," Anthony replied, turning back to his papers. "Did you get lost?"

"I came to see you as well," Y/N replied. She was still hiding behind the door. "But only if you'll hear me out."

"I might."

"And if you stop being so rude."

At that, Anthony looked up again. He stood up, pushing back his chair. "What do you want, Y/N?" He asked, walking over to a cabinet and opening the doors.

"To apologise for what I said," Y/N replied, edging further into the room. "I was stressed amongst many other things and I took it out on you. Of course I value your opinion and I appreciate your assistance."

"You did not seem to the other day."

"Well, I was having conflicting feelings."

Anthony scoffed. Y/N watched him pour out a glass of whiskey and drink it in one.

Y/N sighed softly. She walked further into the room, pushing the door shut behind her. "The truth is, Anthony, that... as much as I appreciate your matchmaking skills and your assistance with this whole thing I..." Y/N trailed off.

She could still change her mind. She could still lie to him, claim innocence.

But she didn't want to.

Now was her chance to tell him. To let it all out. It would hurt. The denial would sting. But she would get over it. And then maybe, she could find another match.

"I cannot have the man I love trying to marry me off to other men when the only one I want is him."

Anthony's glass clinked against the bottle he was holding. He went very still, frozen mid-pour. Y/N let the confession settle, the silence grow. She moved closer to him, the heels of her shoes against the wooden floor the loudest sound she'd ever heard.

"I can’t get you out of my head," she admitted softly. "You haunt my dreams at night and in the day. I find myself searching for you where ever I go, yearning just to hear your voice, to feel your hand in mine… your lips against my skin.

"You torment my very being. Whenever I see you, whenever I hear you there’s a spark inside me that demands to be let out. A spark that doesn’t exist with anyone but you, Anthony."

Anthony set the bottle down and turned to face her. Y/N didn't know how she expected him to react but the tears brimming in his eyes was not high on the list.

"I know that this might not be what you wish to happen," she added quickly, stepping even closer, "and if that is the case, I will walk away right now and forget this ever happened." She paused, breathing deeply. "But I think there is something, deep down inside, that yearns for this too."

That god awful silence fell again. The clock chimed from the mantle place, indicating that it was inching close to six o'clock. Anthony stared at her. Y/N stared at him. She let her fingers grip her skirt tightly.

"I will admit," Anthony said softly, his voice hoarse, "that I have felt something too. For a long time I have denied it." He swallowed. "I loved my father deeply and his loss aches even today. I fear to love anyone else as much or to allow anyone to love me as much because I do not wish to inflict that ache on anyone else.

"But what I have discovered since meeting you, Y/N Moore, is that the ache means that the love was so great, it cannot be put into words. We know what happens in the end, yet we love anyway. It has taken me a long time to accept that. To accept that falling in love will only mean more pain, more heart ache. But for you, I am willing to accept that. For you, I am willing to love again."

Y/N couldn't breathe. At some point during Anthony's confession, her breath had been stolen away by his words.

Here they were, baring their open and broken souls to one another. It shouldn't have felt this good. It shouldn't have brought her the relief it was.

Anthony stepped closer. Y/N followed his gaze, never breaking away. He lowered his lips to hers. It was slow and delicate yet the desire was there, the need for more was there. He pressed hard, pushing her lips apart slightly, wanting even more.

Then, they broke apart. Anthony took a step back. Y/N looked at him, breathing heavily. Anthony looked at her, his dark eyes burning into her soul.

There was a moment of stillness. A moment of calm.

Then Anthony surged forward, as did Y/N. They collide. His hands wrapped around her waist as he captured her lips again. They were desperate to devour one another, to know each others bodies, to feel one another after denying their feelings for so long.

Anthony lifted Y/N up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, never once breaking their kiss. He walked back and sat her on the desk, knocking over trinkets and piles of papers. His hands were frantic, desperately undoing the hooks at the back of her dress as she undid his waistcoat.

Desire coursed through them. The need to hold one another overwhelming them both. Y/N's dress fell down from her shoulders and ended up on the floor, forgotten.

As Anthony stepped back, Y/N jumped off the desk and pulled Anthony forward by his cravat. She smiled, licking her swollen lips as she pushed him down until he was kneeling in front of her.

Anthony chuckled, his hands reaching up and pulling down her stockings from around her thighs. Her drawers followed next. Anthony's hands danced over her hips and upper thighs as he guided the material down.

Y/N's hands caressed his face and combed through his hair with her fingers as he undressed her and Anthony tried not to moan in delight. He paused as her hands came around his throat, undoing the cravat and then drifting down to his shirt.

Teasingly, Y/N pulled the edge up, letting her nail lightly drag across his skin. A tremor went through his body, desire flaring between his legs. The shirt landed on the floor next to her dress.

Anthony paused, looking at her. “I will stop if you want me to,” he said softly.

"Please don’t.”

Anthony realised just how much he liked her begging.

Y/N lowered herself to her knees, looking Anthony in the eye. He recognised the look in her eyes and he slowly lowered himself down to the floor, the rug brushing his bare back.

She knelt over him, fingers dancing over his chest. Her hands moved down, brushing between his legs. He nearly came undone there and then. Y/N undid his trousers, sliding the fabric down his legs until they were both exposed.

Y/N lowered herself onto him, a sweetness growing between her legs as she did so. She yearned to reach down and relieve it. Instead, she straightened up, resting on top of Anthony. He tilted his head back, a groan burning in his throat. He let her warm to him, to his touch, and then he arched up slightly, encouraging her movements. Y/N moved with him, their limbs becoming one, entangling with the other.

Anthony reached the horizon of his desire, feeling it's release all over. Y/N rested a hand on his chest, breathing hard. She leant down, kissing his lips, the space behind his ear, his collarbone. She brushed her hand along the side of his face, taking in every mole, every detail.

Anthony took her face in his hands. He gently guided her up, until they were both kneeling again. Then, he pushed her backwards, letting her lower herself onto the floor. Y/N laid on the rug, looking up at Anthony, her eyes caught in his gaze. He knelt over her, his knees either side of her waist, his knee brushing her bare skin.

He smirked as slowly lowered himself downward, caressing every part of her body as he went. His hands ran over her covered breasts, hovering for a moment, before moving down to her stomach. He paused at her thighs and then, when he heard her whimper, went down further, to the sweet spot that yearned to be touched.

Y/N splayed her hands out against the rug as the sweetness between her thighs was eased by hands that knew exactly what to do and a tongue that knew just where to touch.

She didn't even hear the noises she made, so absorbed in the feeling of Anthony's fingers inside her. Her hips bucked up and he pushed them back to the floor, resting his other hand against her abdomen.

Needing something to grasp onto, Y/N reached for his hand. Anthony found it and gripped it tightly, riding with her as each surge of breath came in quick succession.

Y/N arched up, her head tilted back, exposing her throat, as she crested the wave of her release. Anthony finished off as she fell back against the rug, her skin glowing with sweat.

He laid down next to her, his hand coming to lie against her chest. He could feel her heart beating through the corset she still wore.

Neither one spoke - they didn’t need to. Y/N closed her eyes and turned her head, nestling into Anthony’s neck and breathing in deeply. His cologne was stronger there, evidently where he’d rolled it on that morning. Anthony’s thumb rubbed back and forth along her back.

In stark contrast from the hunger and desire that had gripped them moments earlier, they were both settled now. Anthony’s kiss was soft on her cheek, his hands gentle as he caressed her bare skin. Y/N found herself drawing circles on his bare back, following imaginary lines along the divot of his spine.

She sighed softly and relaxed further into his embrace, closing her eyes as she listened to Anthony’s heart beating in time with hers.

She awoke hours later. The candles had burnt down and the sky was dark outside the window. She was still in Anthony’s embrace, his hand lazily flung across her stomach, fingers on her thigh. She turned her head to look at him and he blinked at her sleepily, his hair mussed.

“I suspect I might have to marry you now,” Anthony whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I suspect you might, Lord Bridgerton” Y/N replied, smiling back. She brushed her hand through his hair. “Luckily for you, I’m all yours.”

“Lucky for me indeed,” Anthony murmured, pressing his lips to hers once more. Slowly. Deliberately.

For they had all the time in the world now.

[missqhughes]

CAN HE GET YOU LIKE THIS? | Q. HUGHES43

-> quinn hughes x jacksgf!reader

-> contains: cheating, smut with plot , SLIGHT angst, and other sexual themes, oc’s created for tha plot, intended lowercase, use of y/n

-> IN WHICH: jack almost cant seem to control himself around another woman at the lake house; and to make it worse, in front of his girlfriend. when she cries her frustrations to her boyfriends older brother, he seems to have the perfect solution to her problems.

-> my first hockey fic! i spent so much time on it, and i’m pretty proud tbh. also, i’m so excited to post on this page, and as i always say on my other blog, hope you love it as much as i do!

*fic is not proofread

18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

y/n was never the jealous type.

she never needed anyone’s approval.

but god, what jack was doing was pissing her off.

for the first time, luke had brought his girlfriend april, to the lake house for the summer, and this week, y/n had the unpleasant company of aprils friend stampeding around the house for the week.

about 100% of the time, she could handle girls throwing themselves at jack at this point. she was used to it; jack was always a good boyfriend to her, and could always control himself with his endless female attention.

until today.

the july sun delivered a scorching heat down on the group as they conversed somewhere on the middle of the lake in the hughes family boat.

the typical casual conversation that y/n, jack, and his brothers had on their boat days were greatly interrupted by the ear piercing voices of april’s friends.

“jack, wanna let me drive the boat?”

“jack, the sun is too bright! can i please wear your hat?”

jack let out low chuckles at the flattery delivered to him, and y/n was doing her usual job at ignoring them.

with her dark tinted sunglasses on and her head resting on the back seat of the boat, she saw her boyfriend place his white baseball cap on one of april’s god forsaken friend.

her eyebrows furrowed; jack never fed into anything like this. the pang of anxiety lowly rested in the pit of her stomach, but she chose to ignore it.

he knew better.

“jacky, how does it look on me?”

through her dark lenses, she witnessed the ratty girl in front of her spin in front of jack, pulling the sides of her bikini up while doing so.

he made no attempt to hide his gaze on the girl in front of him, or the comment that slipped from his lips afterwards;

“looks good,” he said lowly, probably thinking that his girlfriend mere feet away from him was fast asleep from the summer heat, unaware to his tease.

the anxiety in y/n’s stomach began to surface more, a jealousy and anger she hadn’t felt in a situation like this before arising. she thought whatever of it, that she was being crazy, that she could shove this feeling down.

y/n kept her gaze straight forward, blocking out any of the chatter coming from anyone in her vicinity; her eyes locked on luke’s slow speed on the boat, conversing casually with april, unaware of the drama brewing behind them.

god, can he not drive any faster? she thought to herself, the annoyance within growing deeper and deeper.

the boat rocked along with the motion of the water beneath it, but y/n did her best to sit completely still, feeling that if she moved, the her negative emotions would swirl harder.

after a grueling 4 minute ride back to the dock, luke had secured the boat,

“everyone’s good to get off now,” he told the group, grabbing april’s hand and towel, assisting her onto the dock.

the short haired girl, the one throwing herself all over jack, the one who’s name y/n didn’t even bother to remember in their introductions, was just about to take it too far.

she stood up first, jack and y/n following behind her.

the ratty girl “dropped” her towel, allowing the perfect opportunity to bend down in front of jack,

“woops! my bad,” her voice made an embarrassing attempt to be seductive to jack, turning her head to eye him up and down.

jack let out a deep inhale, just enough to set y/n off further on her silent rage.

“all good, let me help you out.”

the girl giggled as she took jacks hand, letting it linger on his skin longer than necessary.

he paid no mind to his girlfriend behind him.

the insatiable urge to strangle the two idiots in front of y/n was barely present on her face, as she decided to take back control of the situation, and remind both of them who his significant other was.

“babe, i’m tired, do you want to come up and take a nap?”

his conversation with the short haired girl was cut with y/n’s words, he looked back at the two, contemplation in his mind, before smiling at y/n.

see? nothing to worry about-

“i uh, i think i’m gonna stay down here for a bit, don’t want to go inside yet, it’s just a really nice day y’know?”

her ears began to ring with his words, cheeks growing red as she looked over at luke and april, who shifted uncomfortably, now aware of the drama upon the dock.

“uh, yeah… yeah that’s fine.”

“i’ll be up soon, promise,” jack said as he sat down with april, luke, and her stupid friend.

y/n ignored his words, turning on her heel to walk up to the house, pace growing as soon as she was out of sight from the dock.

now that she was alone, all the feelings the thought she was suppressing were now at the forefront of her body and mind. she ran her hands through her hair, almost ready to rip it out from frustration.

y/n stormed through the house, and as she passed the living room, she was met with quinn; who was quietly reading a book with his feet kicked up on the ottoman.

before he lifted his head, his eyes went up first, gaze met with y/n’s indignant expression,

“woah, you okay, something happen on the one boat day i miss?” he said light heartedly,

“quinn, not now,”

y/n snapped at him, before slamming her bedroom door, the action echoing through the otherwise quiet house.

——————————————————————————

dinner wasn’t any better.

y/n didn’t realize how much time had gone by as she was staring at the ceiling, recounting the events of the day. jack did not keep his promise about “coming up soon” which wasn’t to the shock of y/n, considering his behavior today. he did stop in her designated room, to give her a kiss on the forehead, and to tell that dinner was ready.

and that was it.

now, she was sitting next to jack at the table, his happy chatter with his brothers, april, and company sounding like mumbles in her ears. she felt a gaze on her, hoping it was jack, but when y/n turned her head softly to confirm, he was still smiling at his continued conversation.

like nothing was wrong.

there was only one other person who wasn’t talking, and her eyesight landed right on his.

quinn.

she shifted in her seat, quickly averting their eye contact, and picked at her quarter eaten meal with her fork.

“excuse me everyone, i’m gonna go lay down,”

jack looked at y/n, giving her a half smile and no thought to her abrupt departure, before returning to his seemingly endless conversation.

y/n began to pick her plate up to take it to the sink, when quinn’s voice spoke up,

“i’ll take care of it,” the tips of his fingers pushed down lightly on the edge of her plate.

“you sure? it’s fine i don’t-”

“just go lay down.”

y/n blinked at him a few times before nodding her head, setting her plate down and shuffling to her room.

she closed the door softly this time, letting out a shaky breath as she sat on the edge of the plush bed. her head was beginning to throb, not sure if it was from lack of food or just from the complete and total anxiety jack was giving her.

——————————————————————————

y/n scrolled mindlessly on her phone, again losing the track of time with the state she was in.

1:19am.

the dryness in her throat was becoming more present as she came down from her brain fog, deciding to clear herself with a glass of water.

y/n slipped into the kitchen, only the warm dim glow from the microwave light allowing her to see. the glass cups lightly clinked together as she pulled one out, then setting it down to fill up.

the refrigerator hummed softly, barely breaking the silence through the house. then, a raspy voice spoke behind her,

“what’re you doing up?”

y/n whipped her head around, almost dropping and shattering the glass of water in her hand,

“jesus christ quinn, you scared the shit out of me!”

she set down the glass to put a hand to her chest, an attempt to slow down the spike in her heart rate.

quinn let out a small, quiet laugh, “sorry, i thought you heard me.”

“no,” she let out a huff, “i didn’t,” y/n smiled back at him gently as the beating in her chest settled.

“so, what’s wrong?”

quinn was quick to change the conversation to put her on the spot, y/n’s lips parting as she thought of her next words.

“nothing, i don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“yes you do.”

y/n scoffed, “you really have a habit of interrupting me don’t you?”

“stop avoiding the question. what’s wrong? talk to me, y/n.”

the two stared at one another, having an unspoken battle with each other,

y/n broke first.

she swallowed, knowing the words about to spill out of her mouth were going to come shaky and scattered; she didn’t want quinn, or anyone for that matter, to know the state her mind was at. y/n hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter, retelling the day to quinn.

“it was… it was jack. today. he was just letting april’s stupid fucking friend flirt with him! and-”

“alana?”

she shot him a deep scowl, “don’t interrupt me to tell me what her stupid name is!”

quinn raised his hands in defeat, “sorry, sorry, keep going,”

“he let her wear his hat, she bent over in front of him and he said nothing, and as you could tell from earlier today, he didn’t even come up to the house with me when i asked…”

her words trailed off shakily, y/n felt hot, wet tears flow down her cheeks, slightly blurring her vision, she looked down, unable to meet quinn’s gaze she felt burning into her face.

“y/n… i’m sorry. he’s a shithead for that,”

he stepped closer to her, lessening the distance between them,

“y/n.”

she hummed in response, sniffles coming from her, still refusing to look up at him,

“y/n look at me.”

y/n knew how persistent quinn was, and he definitely was not going to let her get away with not looking at him. though it felt like lifting a ton of bricks, her glossy eyes looked up to meet his.

quinn’s eyes flickered all over her face, reading her sorrow expression. he brought his hand up to meet her face, gently using his thumb to brush away any fallen tears on her tinted cheeks.

“you know, i really hate it when you cry,” he cooed softly, still wiping away the spilling tears, paying more attention to her in these mere minutes than jack had been all day.

“i’m so mad at myself, i should’ve said something, i let it all happen in front of me,” y/n said, her quiet frustrations let out only for quinn’s ears to hear.

“hey, hey, no. you shouldn’t have even been put in that position, don’t blame yourself, okay?” he placed his hands on either sides of the counter, locking her in. his voice being stern but still soft, a tough love kind of talk.

y/n’s heart beated faster as she became hyper aware of how close their bodies were, feeling the warmth radiating off of him.

she wanted to knock herself in the head for feeling this way, but her heightened distaste for jack in the moment, quinn’s messy hair combined with his beard and tired eyes made him so sinfully appealing.

“you’re right, i shouldn’t have,”

y/n felt almost awkward in this moment, especially it being her boyfriends older brother. there was no way for her to move without being even closer to him.

“god, y/n… cant believe that… if i had you… i’d never let that happen,”

quinn’s tired eyes turned lustful by the second, going up and down y/n’s body before flickering between her own eyes and lips.

“quinn,” she let out with a breath, “you cant say things like that, you know you can’t,”

y/n couldn’t help herself from matching quinn’s motion, unable to tear away from looking at his full lips.

“after the shit he pulled today, i think i’m safe to do whatever the hell i want,”

the gentle demeanor in his voice was replaced with seduction, bringing his face closer to hers, close enough for their breaths to mingle.

“say the words y/n, i wont do anything you don’t want me to do. say the words and i’ll stop.”

she was between a rock and a hard place. it’s not like jack had outright cheated in front of her, and she would feel horrible doing something like that to him. however, his actions were inexcusable, and he saw not an inch of an issue with what he was doing. and at the exact same time, quinn was ready to be all over her. hell, he’s practically admitting to wanting his little brother’s girlfriend. in this moment, he could give her anything.

fuck it.

this is what he gets, she thought to herself. it’s not like he would find out anyway. no one would.

“i want you quinn.”

the words rolled off her tongue faster than her mind let her think about the consequences, and in no time, quinn captured y/n’s lips in his, securing his hands on to her waist.

the two kissed sloppily in the kitchen, out in the open, with too much opportunity to get caught. neither of them cared.

y/n’s hands found a home in his hair, quinn emitting a low groan as she gently tugged at his waves.

she felt a heat growing between her legs, and an attempt to close them for relief was blocked by quinn pushing them back open with his hips.

y/n gasped, allowing quinn’s tongue entry, and as he explored her mouth with his, she felt him growing harder against her core, making the wetness in her shorts more difficult to ignore.

quinn panted heavily as he pulled away, still gripping at her waist, fingers hugging the bottom hem of her shirt,

“can i take this off?”

she buzzed at his words, nodding vigorously. with her consent, he raised the shirt above her body, y/n lifting her arms in assistance.

quinn wasted no time to kiss down her neck to her now exposed upper chest, sitting perfectly pretty in her bra. he sucked and nipped at the bare skin, earning quiet moans from her soft lips.

“mm—fuck quinn,” y/n threw her head back in pleasure, giving more room for quinn to litter her chest with marks. she didn’t even care if they were going to bruise tomorrow or who was going to saw. everyone else was on the back burner of her mind.

her praise only made him rougher, sucking harder into her skin, feeling himself getting more and more rowdy by the second.

his lips went up to claim hers again, tapping her thigh as a signal to wrap her legs around his waist. she listened, hooking herself around him. quinn lifted her up effortlessly, their kiss not being broken as he peeked his eyes open in a tenth of a second to see their way to his room.

with one hand tucked under y/n’s ass, he turned the knob to his bedroom door, stepping into the room before closing the door behind him with a light kick.

quinn’s legs met the edge of the bed, and he threw her down before making himself pry his lips from her’s, plump and slick from his.

“you’re still okay with his?” he asked, his thumb drawing circles on her hips.

“more than okay, please quinn. i need more.”

he nodded, taking a step back to take all of her in with his eyes.

she looked at him confused for a moment, before he talked,

“strip.”

she swallowed heavily, ready to obey his words. y/n wiggled out of her shorts, leaving her skin only covered by a black bra and panties.

“i said strip. all the way.”

her heart was about to come out of her chest, all of it was beginning to feel real, and that she was about to be naked and on display for jack’s brother.

only hearing the beating in her chest, quinn watched as y/n unhooked her bra first, tits bouncing with the action, and he thought he could cum in his pants right then and there.

y/n sat down on the bed, staring deeply into quinn’s eyes, slipping her black panties down her half parted legs, pussy wet and glistening from the moonlight shining through the window.

“fuck,” he whispered, unable to control his hand from falling to his crotch, beginning to palm himself through his shorts.

with a single hand, quinn took his shirt off, dipping his head down to kiss her naked thighs. y/n shuddered at his action, his kisses being everywhere except where she desperately needed them to be.

he hovered just above her core, “can i?”

“quinn please stop fucking asking and just do it,” y/n begged, squirming under him, desperate for his touch.

he licked a long stripe down her wet folds, y/n unable to control the guttural moan that escaped from her lips. her back arched in pleasure at the feeling of quinn’s lips sucking on her puffy clit, aching for attention.

he couldn’t stop; he was devouring her like it was his death row and she was his last meal, already addicted to the taste of her pussy on his tongue.

quinn pushed her hips down, sticking his tongue in her and his nose bumping against her clit with each motion. y/n felt knots twisting and forming in her stomach, a strong release forming, one that jack had never even came close to making her feel.

“mmph, shit quinn— gonna fucking cum, oh— my fuck,”

profanities spilled out of y/n’s mouth, but her pleasure was cut short as his dripping lips pulled away from her aching core, craving his touch.

she whined at the loss of contact, only to be met with quinn peeling off his shorts and underwear, his throbbing dick aching with desire from his tip.

“when i make you cum, i want it to be on my dick, pretty girl.”

y/n felt like she could’ve exploded right then and there, but she bit her lip, moving closer to the edge of the bed, giving quinn better access to line up with her.

he ran his dick between her wet folds a few times before inserting himself in her, the two let out gracious moans at the mutual pleasure.

quinn started slow, hips rolling back and forth, before quickening his pace to a pornographic speed.

his lips hooked onto y/n’s once again, sloppy and wet, both groaning into each others mouths with delight. in the kiss he captured both her wrists, pinning them above her head.

quinn broke the kiss to look at her with his brows furrowed, concentrated on fucking y/n senseless. her bottom lip was between her teeth, tits bouncing with the speed of his thrusts.

“fuck y/n, you feel so good on my dick, can he ever get you like this? a moaning fucked out mess? hm?”

his words barely registered in her ears, body buzzing as his dick continued to destroy her pussy.

“no, no, mm— you fuck me so much better quinn,” y/n did her best not to scream it, still aware that the other people in the house had the potential to hear them.

“gonna— cum— y/n— shit,” quinn huffed out between thrusts. she also felt the now familiar knots forming in her stomach, her release about to come.

his movements became sloppy as his release coated her walls, and at the same time, she painted his dick with her own.

they felt euphoric, quinn pulled out of her slowly, groaning as his dick came out of her.

y/n laid out on the bed panting with closed eyes, hearing the light flicker on from quinn’s connected bathroom.

she felt a wet towel meet her sensitive core, hissing at the feeling.

“sorry, just wanna clean you up first,”

y/n looked at quinn while he cleaned her with concentration, his body glistening with sweat and his messy hair slightly sticking to his forehead.

“thank you, quinn,”

y/n was breathless watching quinn go back into the bathroom, her chest still rapidly rising and falling. she felt herself grow more tired with each passing minute.

quinn came back from the bathroom with a different pair of underwear on, holding out a pair of his boxers to put on. y/n gladly accepted, slipping them up her body. she grabbed her bra from the floor, hooking it back on.

after she was partly dressed, he delivered her a sweet, soft kiss to her lips. different than any kind of kiss they had so far, this one was deep and loving; his hands gently cupping her face.

“stay with me,”

quinn’s proposition took her by surprise, thinking he was going to send her back to her room after all this, but no.

“quinn, i really shouldn’t, it’s not a good ide-”

“you and jack can figure your shit out later. as of right now, you’re mine.”

he was right and she knew it. he claimed her, and there was definitely going to be some kind of consequence for this. either way y/n and jack were going to have to figure their shit out, but to her, that was an issue for the morning.

“okay, i’ll stay.”

quinn smiled at her, planting a kiss on her forehead. he peeled away at his thick blue comforter, leaving space for the both of them to crawl inside. y/n felt herself more comfortable falling asleep with quinn than she did with jack, whatever that meant. but she didn’t care. his body was tangled with hers, falling asleep to the soft beat of his heart.

pt. 2

——————————————————————————

© missqhughes

xoxo, kaia

[thewritetofreespeech]

kinktober: frottage

tags: frottage, making out, secret relationship, targaryen incest [aemond/rhaenyra's daughter], immense pinning by aemond

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

“Where is Aemond?”

“I do not know your grace,” Larys replied. Remaining calm in the Queens frustration. She had been hunting for her middle son for hours, and he was no where to be found. “I have checked with the guards and sentries, and no one has seen him leave by Vahgar or horse.”

“So, he must still be in the city.” Alicent deduced. Hoping he was still in the castle as well. “The conclave starts soon, and we need…a united front for the court.” The plan to weave her family’s place to the crown was to start today. First, but claiming Driftmark back from Rhaenyra's brood. Then, with them illegitimized, start making the case that Aegon should be king. “He knows how important today is. How could he do this to me?!”

“The prince is nothing but a servant to duty.” Larys assured her. He may not see eye-to-eye with the prince, at least with the one he had left, but the Lord did respect that he seemed committed to his family and their goal. “I’m sure he will come out of hiding eventually.”

In a further, deeper part of the castle, indeed hidden away from all those who had not truly explored it, Aemond laid sequestered with his maiden. Marveling at her beauty in the low light between kisses. Beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck from the warmth of the candles in the small space and their hot, panting breath. Bucking against each other with soft gasps & grunts in the nest he had built for them

“We have to go.” His lady insisted. For the umpteenth time, yet neither one of them had made a legitimate effort to move.

“No, no. Not yet.”

Aemond didn’t want to go back to the ‘real world’. A world where his family and hers were fighting. Where the rift between them seemed to grow every day. Separating them. Lines in the sand now a chasm that seemed impossible to overcome.

He also knew what was to happen today to Rhaenyra's bastards, and that she might not forgive him for his part in the plot of disinheriting her brothers. Aemond wanted to stay here a little longer, where she wouldn’t be mad at him.

“People will be looking for us.” She told him as he moved to her neck, which was freely given.

“They’ll never find us.” It had taken him years to find this place and even then it had been difficult to remember where the opening was until he had committed it to memory.

“Oh yes. Because you’re so clever. Ow!” His lady yipped but then moaned when he bit at her neck. A true Targaryen. Wanting a little pain with her pleasure.

“We should just leave and never come back.”

He’d made the offer before. To take their dragons and ride until they reach new land. Conquer it like their ancestors. Build a new kingdom, instead of being stuck in this conflicting one.

Yet, every time, she just laughed it off as a joke like she did now. Not realizing the seriousness of how much he wanted to leave, and never come back, and just be the two of them in the world. “You would miss the tarts too much if we left. Come on. Let’s get going.”

Aemond finally let her go, though disappointed about it, and let her right herself.

In the right light, her mused hair and clothes looked like she had been riding. No one would think where Rhaenyra's Targaryen jewel had truly been. In the arms of her scorned, much less beloved uncle. His cock throbbed in his breeches. Desperate to make her truly his, but he would not take such liberties. Aemond would not tarnish their jewel nor besmirch her honor. He loved her too much for that. That’s why he wanted her to run away with him, so they could be together. Growing up in a world beloved & adored, she does not see that her parents will never allow them to marry. Never allow them to be happy. Their jewel will be given to someone politically inclined to help secure her mother’s place on the throne, and Aemond would be unhappy & unfulfilled.

He would join the Watch before he call anyone but her wife.

Righted and upright, Aemond tucked a lock of silver behind her ear. Marveling at the affection reflected in her eyes. “Will you see me later? After the conclave?”

“Of course.” She told him. Her earnest something he wanted to hold on to. “Here, or somewhere else before dinner?”

“Here.” Where he could pretend. And if he spoke his words sweet enough maybe she would take him up on his offer to finally run away.

They exit their nook and depart. Her back to her family and Aemond to his. His mother found him readily enough, given how frantically at this point she had been looking for him, and asked where he had been.

“Day dreaming.” Was all he told her. It was a peculiarly enough answer that it halted all further questions from his mother and left him to get ready for the meeting.

After today, his daydreams where all he might have left. Let him keep them for a little while longer at least.

[theoldsports]

married.

Coriolanus Snow x reader | 5.5k words

alcohol makes consent messy, substance abuse, manipulation, arranged marriage, public humiliation, two-way abusive relationship <3

Coriolanus may well replace Lupin as my favorite guy to write for. he’s fucked up. i can’t fix him, but i could certainly make him worse.

As quietly as possible, [Y/N] closed the door to Coriolanus’s lavish new apartment behind her. She didn’t particularly want him to know that she had left the apartment in the first place. There were always too many questions.

[Y/N] had recently moved in with Coriolanus since their engagement. Her parents had arranged their marriage with his grandmother, affectionately called the Grandma’am not long before she passed. Coriolanus was about the most desirable bachelor in the Capitol. Not only was he an excessively handsome twenty-three year old, but he was also growing increasingly wealthy and had recently received his first assignment as a Gamemaker working on creating a new arena structure for the Hunger Games. Everyone who was anyone in polite society knew of Coriolanus Snow.

And [Y/N] hated him with everything she had. She had to see his defiant smirk in school every day for years since they were twelve or so. She hid from him every chance she got at home. [Y/N] slept in another room away from him. The only advantage of their marriage were the politics and name recognition for the both of them.

���I didn’t realize you were going out.” Coriolanus said flatly, snapping [Y/N] from her thoughts. She hadn’t even realized he had been in the apartment’s common area. He was sitting calmly in an putrid-looking armchair, alarmingly still.

[Y/N] gasped and clutched her chest in surprise. “Is there a problem with my leaving?” She said quickly.

“No problem.”

[Y/N] looked at him curiously. “Okay.” She said and moved passed him to her bedroom.

After a moment of pause, Coriolanus appeared in her doorway. He leaned against her doorframe with a hand in his pocket. “Where were you, by the way?” He asked plainly.

“I don’t see how that’s your business.”

“It was beginning to get late. Our engagement party’s in two hours. I cannot very well attend an engagement event without my fiancée. So. Where were you?”

“Dry cleaner’s.”

Coriolanus let out a scoff. [Y/N] could see him get hot under the collar. “You expect me to believe you were—Where’s the laundry?” Coriolanus questioned.

[Y/N] reached into her coat pocket for the stub of her laundry receipt. “Dropping off, not picking up. You’re on Lucky Flickerman’s next week. Dropping off my dress ahead of time. Anything left you would like to accuse me of?” [Y/N] sighed, leaned against her desk chair.

“Do not speak to me like that,” Coriolanus begun, sighing. It was obvious that he felt undue humiliation from her response. “It’s childish and unbecoming.”

“So is your being a hypocrite.” [Y/N] snapped back instantly.

The pair fought daily. Never had Snow laid a hand on her, but it wouldn’t be surprising if he did one day. [Y/N] didn’t recall any particular fights he had been involved in at the Academy, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.

“Stop acting like a child!” Coriolanus repeated. “Are we not allowed one remotely pleasant moment together? You know I don’t want this just as much as you, but here we are. Can’t we be civil?”

“I am capable of civility, yes. You, on the other hand…”

“You’re disgusting. You don’t know how to listen. It blows me away. I asked you a simple question that a married couple should ask the other when one is gone. Now you’re screaming at me like a little girl. Grow up.”

“Grow up? You wanna talk about childish; you’re selfish, demanding, and cold. I’m scared to death of you. You make me feel like a toy, not a person, Coriolanus. I was always pretty fucking certain children had toys, not grownups.”

“Good gracious… Fine! Be that way. Cause a fucking scene!” Coriolanus screamed. His temper flared. He got that look in his eye that only men can get when they lose something they wanted. “My coat and tie are black. I’m assuming you’re not intending to clash or something, so just letting you know. Y’know. Communication. The polite thing to do.” He reported and stormed out of her room to his own. Her door slammed so hard behind him that she feared in may splinter off its hinges. What must the neighbors think of them?

[Y/N] resisted the urge to shout for Coriolanus to drop dead.

She was left to ready herself alone. As she pulled out her dress (that wouldn’t look foul against Coriolanus’s coat and tie) from the closet, she caught a glimpse of the engagement ring on her finger. White gold with a moderately sized ruby set in the middle. She was told both the gold and the stone were real, but she had her doubts to some extent. She found it was difficult to believe anything Coriolanus said. The ring made it clear that Coriolanus didn’t truly know [Y/N] because she had always worn silver jewelry. She felt isolated from all her prior jewelry pieces as now, none of them matched.

Then, [Y/N] stepped into her dress. A flowing black ballgown with a full petticoat and a glittery exterior over the fine satin it was made from. She couldn’t quite complete the buttons running up the dress’s back. She sat down at a small vanity Coriolanus had purchased her to do her hair and makeup. She assumed he would be hard pressed by the fact she couldn’t button the back of her own ballgown; that she was incapable or needy.

After dragging kohl and shadows over her eyelids, among other things, she set out to find the correct pair of shoes to match the dress.

The problem with dressing to match Coriolanus is that he was excessively tall. This meant every dress had to be accompanied by the tallest heels one could find. [Y/N]’s ankles ached just thinking about a night in shoes like that again. With her makeup done and her dress unbuttoned down the back, [Y/N] set out to find the red heels Coriolanus had purchased for her. She sat unceremoniously on the floor with her large skirt fluffed out around her to dig in her closet for the shoes.

Coriolanus was fastening his white gold and ruby cufflinks that matched [Y/N]’s engagement ring when he knocked at her door.

“Yes, what?” She shouted from the floor.

Coriolanus pulled the door open without asking if she was decent. “I was going to ask if you were ready, but I can see that you aren’t.” He sighed. Coriolanus never apologized after a fight, instead he tried to placate in whatever way possible. He was incapable of an apology, [Y/N] thought. Whether it was buying her something, taking her out, helping her find something she had lost, that’s what he would do to ease his own guilt. If he could feel guilt.

[Y/N] sighed as well. She was unwilling to engage in verbal sparring with him now. She lowered her head in a visual show of defeat. “I can’t find my other shoe,” She said weakly. “The red ones you got me.”

“The red heels?” He asked quietly. Coriolanus perceived she was not much in the mood for his attitude, and felt his residual anger cool off several degrees.

[Y/N] nodded hopelessly. She didn’t want to go to the engagement party. She didn’t want to be marrying Coriolanus under terms such as these. [Y/N] felt like property and everything hurt.

“Let me look,” Coriolanus said. What he meant to say was ‘I’m sorry for everything,’ but what he said was: “I’ll help you look. Don’t wrinkle your dress, alright?”

[Y/N] stood up awkwardly, holding the falling bodice of her dress up. She felt uncomfortable being so vulnerable in front of him like this. “Sorry, I couldn’t button the back.” She said. With her free hand, she reached around the back of the dress in an attempt to close it.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll get it. Turn,” Coriolanus commanded plainly. [Y/N] did as he said. He notched the buttons down her back with ease. “You should’ve called for help. I didn’t realize you were struggling.” He said. He patted her shoulder to signify he was done with the back of her dress. Coriolanus moved in front of her closet and bent down to find the missing left red shoe.

It was silent for a moment. “Of course you weren’t aware I was struggling.”

Coriolanus offered no reply. He understood what she meant.

“Aha!” He said after a few moments, holding up a matching set of shoes. Coriolanus placed them on the floor in front of her so she could step into them. He offered [Y/N] a hand for stability as she did so.

“Thank you,” she said. “Hey, Coriolanus?”

“Hm?”

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” he replied, standing up from the carpeted floor. “Are you?” Coriolanus’s blue eyes were piercingly inquisitive. Eyes that didn’t want to know you, but to consume you.

“Yes.”

“Really? Why?” Coriolanus asked. It didn’t feel rude or hot-tempered. It was merely a plain question. It made [Y/N] feel safe to answer, even though she remained guarded.

“I’m presenting myself as the soon-to-be wife of the most important thirty-under-thirty in the Capitol in an arranged marriage. And you hate me. You have hated me since we were children. My life is over, Coriolanus. This is for you and for my family’s honor, evidently. What do I have left?”

“You think I hate you?” Coriolanus asked, bending his neck to look at [Y/N]. “I don’t hate you.” [Y/N] wasn’t sure how truthful the statement was.

“Well, at least, you don’t like me.”

Curiously, Coriolanus placed a hand on her neck and dragged his thumb across [Y/N]’s jawline. “That’s such shit, [Y/N]. I didn’t realize you thought that of me. That you… Felt that way at all,” he started carefully. “Rather, and this sounds silly, I enjoy arguing with you. I sort of thought you did as well. You’re ruthless, I admire that,” He smirked and paused for a breath. “I do like you. Believe it, or not. I’ll just have to figure out a way to show you better,” Coriolanus’ hand slid from [Y/N]’s throat, down her side and back to eventually rest at her waist. She blinked up at him, surprised at the luxury of such unexpected contact from him. “Your life is not over. You wanna work, work. You want to not work, stay home. Please, allow me to do what I can for you. I can open doors. Whatever you want, name it. Things, opportunity,” [Y/N] nodded at the word ‘opportunity.’ “You’re meant to be my wife and I’m… really, I’m one of the best resources there is around here. Let me use that advantage. Had I known sooner, I wouldn’t have wasted all that time and money buying you things you hate.” He attempted a casual joke, holding her too close to him.

They were closer physically than they had ever been. Due to their proximity, [Y/N] had to rest her hands on Coriolanus’ chest as she stared up at him. She didn’t know what to say, so she nodded and straightened the red rose at his lapel. “You just might get yourself that unified front with me if you bring home your work…”

“You’re interested in Gamemaking? Since when?”

[Y/N] rolled her eyes. “We’re going to be late. We can speak about this later.”

“By all means.” Coriolanus leaned down awkwardly and kissed her. Maybe it was out of duty, maybe out of desire. Neither of them knew. They had shared the occasional peck on the lips for social reasons before, but this felt a bit different. It was charged somehow. A promise.

When they separated, [Y/N] stared at Coriolanus. He was all eyes - blue, blue, blue. He blinked at her. She blinked back. “Come on, we’ll be late to our own party.”

—

The whole ride to the event venue, Coriolanus had kept his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh. This was an unusual gesture. Normally, he didn’t chance touching her, even by accident. It was an unspoken agreement to keep their distance.

“I’m gonna be sick.” [Y/N] groaned into her palm as she exited the vehicle, led by Coriolanus toward the door of the event hall. The building had been destroyed when they were children in the war and had been recently restored to its former glory.

“Same thing as earlier, or did you decide I’m the worst person on earth?”

“Same as before. Haven’t decided about the second thing. My parents are going to be here too. You remember them?”

“Yes. I’ve met them… Twice, I believe—”

“Tread carefully.” [Y/N] said, offering no additional support.

Coriolanus nodded in solemn understanding. His eyebrows knitted together, knowing one more nasty, exhausting troublespot would be in his way tonight. He hated social gatherings as much as [Y/N]. With all the gentleness he could muster, Coriolanus took her hand. “Heading inside… Unified front?”

“If I must.” [Y/N] said.

With that, the night took off. Bright flashing cameras reflected off the black and white marble of the building, and applause rang off the large, cavernous walls. Everyone was shaking their hands, greeting and congratulating them, and stopping them for overly pictures at every turn. For a moment, [Y/N] truly believed that everything in her life was perfect, because everyone around her seemed to assume that it was. It made the pill of her future easier to swallow.

Coriolanus led her around the room with ease. He introduced her to many individuals whose names she would not remember tomorrow. She was beginning to develop a stunning routine of artifice with him as Coriolanus puppeted her around the room. Each interaction functioned with a greeting from Coriolanus to the stranger, he would remove his arm from [Y/N]’s waist and drag it down her arm into her hand in order for her to showcase her striking gown. Then he would say “isn’t my fiancée beautiful?” or “isn’t she just divine?” or “what a lucky man am I?” [Y/N] would chuckle and compliment him back with “my Coriolanus, ever the charmer!” or “isn’t he just divine?” or “what a lucky woman am I?” accordingly. They would smile sickeningly and pretend they were in love, he would lean in and kiss [Y/N] on the cheek, and she laugh warmly at his ‘spontaneity’ and place a hand on his chest, or straighten his tie.

After that, they would move on to greet the next poor sucker and repeat the process.

Eventually, [Y/N] dragged Coriolanus off to the side so she could relax her artificial grin. “Sorry, I need a moment. My face hurts. And that last man and his wife, was that his wife? They stunk. They smelled so foul it is unreal.”

Coriolanus smirked. “Those were my next door neighbors growing up. Vile. They’re very heavy morphling users, if you couldn’t tell with the glazed over look and twitchy eyebrow.” Coriolanus mocked.

[Y/N] laughed, hard. “Oh, you’re terrible!” She jeered. “Damn, what I wouldn’t give for morphling tonight…”

“Don’t tell me you’re a junkie, now.” Coriolanus pressed.

“Junkie is such a strong word…”

“Well, since I can’t get you high out of your mind at the moment, best I can offer is posca. I can grab you a glass and you can hide from the onslaught for a moment.” Coriolanus offered.

“Please. A particularly stiff glass if you can swing it. Or whiskey!” [Y/N] said. She watched Coriolanus turn to leave for the bar. [Y/N] tucked herself in a corner behind a noble Corinthian column for a moment of peace. A few people came and went that she greeted with that 1000-watt fake smile of hers, but she was mostly left unbothered. [Y/N] caught sight of a clock and realized Coriolanus had been gone for several minutes longer than he should have. She excused herself from talking to some old woman that claimed to be some distant great aunt or something of Coriolanus’ and set off to locate him and her posca.

Cutting through the crowd, [Y/N] spotted tall Coriolanus over most everyone’s heads, holding two glasses of posca, and speaking to her parents.

Fuck.

Her parents.

[Y/N] rushed sharply towards Coriolanus. She stopped short of approaching. She wanted to listen in for a moment to what they might be saying. [Y/N] knew her parents were of the socially treacherous sort. She turned her back to them and stood, pretending she didn’t know they were there.

“…Hasn’t given you too much trouble.” She heard her mother laugh.

Coriolanus laughed uncomfortably back. “Ha, not too much, no,” He said. “She’s quite fiery, for lack of a better word, though. Tough. She’s a tough woman.”

“You’re a strong young man, Coriolanus. I’m sure you’ll find a way to put her in her place. You can’t have her compromise your image and all that, you know. She can just be so destructive.” Her father said.

[Y/N] felt her heart sink. The positive interactions she had with Coriolanus were slipping out of her mind by the second in overhearing the conversation.

“Ah, yes sir,” Coriolanus said. “We’ve got a whole lifetime for—“

[Y/N] turned around and stomped over to Coriolanus. “There you are!” She said, returning that winning smile to her lips. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, dear,” [Y/N] the pet name coming from her mouth made her nauseous. She grasped Coriolanus’ arm firmly. “And you got me a drink? You really are a dear, aren’t you?” She smiled and turned to her parents. Coriolanus felt tense beside her; she could feel it in the muscles in his arm.

Both her mother and father embraced her lovingly. “Oh, [Y/N], you look beautiful as ever.” Her mother said.

“Thank you,” [Y/N] said flatly, not returning the compliment. “If you’ll excuse us, there was someone else I wanted Coriolanus to meet. We’ll be back around soon. Love you!” She muttered, pulling Coriolanus away from her parents.

“Give me that.” She said, as soon as they were out of earshot, taking the glass of posca from Coriolanus.

“They’re…” he started in reference to her parents.

“Dreadful. I know,” [Y/N] heart felt broken. She didn’t even have a chance with Coriolanus without their humiliating influence. She didn’t want to dive into rationalizing his overheard conversation. So she just morosely stared down at the floor.

“They’re cruel to you,” he remarked as [Y/N] drank. “They told me I should work on breaking your spirit.”

[Y/N] took a long drink from her glass. “Are you going to? Break my spirit, I mean.”

“Haven’t decided,” Coriolanus replied. “Is tonight terrible so far for you?”

“Absolutely and unendingly.”

“Shame, since it’s supposed to be for us,” Coriolanus frowned. “Here’s what we’ll do. Drink up and we’ll dance. You told me you liked to dance once. Still true?”

“Uh, yes. You remember that?” The truth was that Coriolanus forgot very little.

“Too much talking, not enough drinking.” He replied, reaching out to tip the stem of her posca glass up, forcing the drink towards her lips.

“You’re a dick.” [Y/N] snapped. Her voice echoed from the round glass at her mouth.

“Never heard that one before.” Coriolanus said sarcastically.

A total of five empty posca glasses were settled on a cocktail table between them after about forty-five minutes of chatter and drinking. Coriolanus seemed looser than before, but focused as ever. The third glass, and the last half of Coriolanus’ second, had sent [Y/N] over the edge into drunkness, however.

“Dance with me now?” [Y/N] slurred slightly.

Coriolanus held his hand out as an affirmative response. She took it and he led her towards the dance floor. “FYI, I’m going to lead. You’re falling apart.” He leaned in to whisper teasingly as they approached the shiny wooden floor.

“If you’re shit at this, I reserve the right to take over as lead.”

“You have zero faith in me,” Coriolanus said, grabbing her too firmly in a waltz hold. She placed her hand on his broad shoulder. “Don’t think, just follow. I’ve got you.” He said, staring at her. Blue, blue, blue eyes, completely unreadable. Coriolanus sloppily led her around the dance floor, keeping the spins to a minimum. Sober, he was probably a fairly decent dancer. [Y/N] was reflexively a fine dancer as well, but a bit sloppier than normal. The thing that was actually holding back her dancing abilities, were the damn red heels. Her feet ached and she didn’t think she would be able to keep up with much more than a waltz in them.

The next song began after only half the length she had expected from a waltz, [Y/N]. It was a brisk foxtrot; all reliant on footwork. As Coriolanus led her into the first sidestep, [Y/N] kicked off her heels without missing a step. She harshly kicked them aside, sliding them to the edge of the dance floor. [Y/N] found she felt tiny now in front of Coriolanus. His smirk doubled at the sight as well. “Better?”

“Much. How about you shrink six inches next time so I don’t have to grow six inches. Seems fair to me.”

Coriolanus laughed cordially. His laugh turned into a sigh when he noticed [Y/N]’s lack of reply. “Are you angry with me?” He was aware that she usually was angry with him, he was asking specifically she to the conversation with her parents.

“Yes, why?”

“Because you’re being extremely rude.” Coriolanus said sharply.

“And?”

“No reason, just making conversation.”

Coriolanus couldn’t figure out what [Y/N] was looking at over his shoulder, but he didn’t care enough to ask. “Wanna make it up to me?” [Y/N] asked. “Posca wasn’t enough.”

“I’ll consider it. The terms?” He replied, spinning her through a tempo change.

“I want to make my parents hurt. I don’t live under their roof anymore. She’s been staring at me since I took my shoes off. See? I’m embarrassing her. And you know how big you owe me.”

This gave Coriolanus pause. Really, he didn’t owe her anything worth a damn. She was as bad to him as he was to her. “Why?”

“You said you could grant me opportunity. Grant me the opportunity of making her feel a fool for making me marry you, Coriolanus. I’m drunk. This offer is only going to work right now.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Blowjob.”

“I have an idea,” Coriolanus said immediately. [Y/N] grinned. His job was having wicked, awful ideas, so it was nice when he delivered. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“By the end of tonight, you will,” Coriolanus grimaced. He rotated the pair of them on the dance floor so [Y/N]’s back was to them and he could keep eyes on her parents. “I’m going to touch you.” He whispered in her ear when the music shifted to something more akin to a rumba.

“What?”

In seconds, [Y/N] felt Coriolanus’ nose slide from where he had whispered in her ear and down her neck to above her pulse point. He planted one kiss to her throat. Coriolanus waited before kissing her again to make sure she didn’t throw him halfway across the event hall in rage first. After that, he felt he had the go-ahead to work more forcefully. Coriolanus sensually kissed hard up and down the right side of [Y/N]’s throat, while both of them tried to keep their fuzzy brains clear enough to keep dancing. He kept kissing and sucking at her neck until she let out a nice loud sound of pleasure. That was when he pulled away. He was happy to see a nice purple bruise starting to form on her exposed neck.

“How was that?” He asked dryly, trying to hold off a pending erection.

“You’re out of your mind. Do it again.”

“I’m pretty sure my boss is here, [Y/N]. That was… great, but unless there’s—“

“We got lectured our entire growing up at the Academy to make sure we were to be winners by any means necessary, Coriolanus. Push the envelope. It’s our night. We can do whatever we want. Let’s make it count, at least. With all these cameras here? You keep this up, and your face will be on every periodical in Panem.”

“Yeah, for terrible reasons!”

“Any press is good press and you know that. ‘TROUBLE IN THE ARENA?: GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE BREAKS DOWN AT PARTY,’” she said, showing a fictional headline example. “Below it, a nice picture of me crying and you dusting me off like a dutiful husband. Have your way with me and eventually I’ll snap and cry and accuse you of something you didn’t do, then you can ‘put me in place,’ so to speak. Control the fucking news cycle til everyone knows your name.”

[Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus had in fact agreed to gamble with his image when his hand slid down her back and grabbed her ass. His mouth ducked back into her neck as well, biting harder than [Y/N] expected. [Y/N] let out a painfully loud moan without meaning to.

“You want a show, let’s give ‘em a show.” He muttered against her skin. Coriolanus pulled his hips flush against his. The fabric of her ballgown being the only meaningful barrier between them. After a few moments, they had given up any chance at a rumba. Coriolanus stood over her, kissing her bruisingly hard anywhere we could reach.

“Coriolanus,” [Y/N] muttered. She gripped his shoulder tightly to steady herself. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Coriolanus took his hand out of the one that was clutching hers and slid it up to grab her face harshly between thumb and forefinger. “Can you shut up for a minute? I’ve let you run your mouth all day. It’s getting annoying,” He said, the mask of kindness slipping from his eyes. “You have had a complaint about everything. I put up with it, too. It’s getting… really,” Coriolanus’ hand gripped her ass harder over the ballgown. “Fucking annoying. You’re already making me do all this because I’m a dick. Stop being a brat. Please keep your mouth closed until I want it open, okay?”

He was holding her face so tightly that she couldn’t even nod. That’s when she saw the cameras start flashing, as Coriolanus gripped her by the face like a spoiled child and rubbed her ass in front of everyone she knew. “Yes.” She tried to mumble, but it came out squished.

“Great, then, we’re clear. Don’t think, just follow.” Coriolanus leaned forward and kissed her blazingly. That’s around the time [Y/N] could hear her mother in hysterics stomping to the bathroom. She sighed with relief, but also burned with humiliation. It felt like Coriolanus was practically trying to fuck her with her clothes on.

[Y/N] couldn’t believe this. This wasn’t brutally argumentative Snow, this wasn’t pseudo-gentle Snow. Who was this? What the fuck was he doing? Why did it feel good? [Y/N] felt a shiver tingle down her spine as he kissed her. Aggressively, she kissed back in an attempt at delivering that ruthlessness Coriolanus said he prized. He squashed that quickly and leaned her back, almost knocking her off her feet. She pulled back breathlessly.

[Y/N]’s eyes were darting around the room, watching everyone watching her. She was the show tonight. For the first time in her life, someone had made her the real center of attention that she always craved to me. Coriolanus granted her opportunity. It fucking worked. Her gaze shot back to Coriolanus, looking down at her possessively. He was mouthing something to her, but her intoxicated brain couldn’t signal her eyes to focus enough to piece together his words.

“What?” She whispered, leaning away from him.

More clearly this time, Coriolanus mouthed. “Hit. Me,” He leaned in close to her ear and whispered. “I told you. I’m leading; I have an idea.”

[Y/N] started to shake her head ‘no’ at her insane exhibitionist fiancé, but she remembered she was the one that had asked for a show. Without asking why, [Y/N] feigned disgust and stepped away from Coriolanus. She raised her hand and sharply slapped him across the face. This elicited gasps of shock from their guests. She could see a red mark beginning to develop on Coriolanus’ fair cheek.

Violence like this is what people in the Districts did. This was not what well-bred, promising youth from the Capitol did. The chatter in the room grew in the form of prying hushed whispers. The band stopped playing. This was not how beautiful young girls behaved at their engagement parties. [Y/N]’s stomach dropped. She looked angrily between her vile hand and the mark on Coriolanus’ face. Both of their expressions showed that she had hit him harder than they expected.

“How many men, [Y/N]?” Coriolanus asked, forcefully.

“What?” [Y/N] asked, shocked. She had no idea what he was talking about.

“How many men have had you behind my back?”

It was a fucking act. No truth to it at all. He wanted a rise out of her and so did the cameras. This was exactly what she had asked him, she didn’t realize how seriously he would take her.

[Y/N] sighed. She understood her role and she was going to play it perfectly. “One. Only one, I swear. None since you caught us in bed.” Lie. “Stop. We’re…” she glanced around, playing ashamed of the cameras. “We’re in public, Coriolanus. Please. Don’t cause a scene.” She said, parroting what he had said to her that morning.

That line did the trick. She saw the vein in his forehead pop out. “Don’t cause a scene? You struck me!” Coriolanus roared. “That’s unfair, and you know it.” The ghost of a smirk played on his lips while he clutched his face.

“You wouldn’t hear reason! The accusations you made of me, Coriolanus. You—You—“

Coriolanus surged forward and grabbed her by her forearms. “Accusations that are warranted. I don’t know how you expect me to trust you after something like that! Do you think I’m made of stone?”

“Yes!” [Y/N] yelled truthfully.

Coriolanus paused. “[Y/N], I hurt just as much as you do. You’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight,” He placated. “I just can’t stand to see how these men look at you like that, knowing you would trade me for them in a heartbeat.” He brought the tempo of their fight down with his false melancholy.

“Coriolanus…” [Y/N] said tentatively. “I wouldn’t… Not now. We’ve put that behind us. I-I’m yours and—“

“I made this whole night about you. I…” Coriolanus swallowed dramatically. “I love you.” Lie? “I love you, I spend all night trying to show you that I don’t want anyone but you. I try to make you feel special so you won’t stray again. And you, you hit me… I can’t do anything right enough for you.” He turned his face away, feigning hiding tears and released her arms.

Without the stabilizing touch of Coriolanus, [Y/N] was starting to feel uncertain on her feet from the alcohol. Far from gracefully, [Y/N] sank to the floor, her skirt fanning out around her as it had when she was searching for her shoe earlier that evening. From the drink, the tension and the state of her shambling life, [Y/N] let out an unexpected sob. Coriolanus turned his head in genuine surprise at the sound. “I’m sorry, my love,” she started through sniffles. “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” She looked up at him as her mascara began to drip down her cheeks. “Please forgive me. You have every right to leave, but please, Coriolanus, you’re all I have left.” That part was true. It was all gone. Her childhood home, the security of her parents, university and the Academy were behind her, taxing relationships with friends she had outgrown. Coriolanus was all that remained. [Y/N] cried harder. “I made a mistake.” She howled.

Coriolanus was impressed, to say the least. Cautiously, he knelt down in front of [Y/N]. He would remember this image of her for his whole life. With her mascara running, her stockings ripped, her shoes long missing, the top of her extravagant dress sliding too low for public consumption, she was divine, truthfully. That was her. That was how he would always want to remember her. “Darling?” He said quietly.

Now, the bastard was left open to play the dutiful savior, just as she had teased earlier.

[Y/N] started to twist the engagement ring off of her finger, theatrically. Coriolanus took her obvious bait and took her hand to stop her. He slid the ruby ring back down her finger calmly. “Darling, I’m not going anywhere. You’re drunk. You just need a little help, right? You mustn’t drink so much. It breaks my heart to see you like this,” Coriolanus squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “You need me. I’m not going anywhere. What kind of husband would that make me if I did?”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re a good man, Coriolanus,” LIE. “You’re too good to me.”

“Come on,” Coriolanus rose from the floor and extended a hand to her. “Let’s get you home, huh?” He said condescendingly.

[Y/N] took his hand carefully. He pulled her up and she stumbled to her feet. Coriolanus wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and pulled her closer. He glanced around in surprise to address the crowd that had gathered in front of them. “I’m sorry for everything you just had to see. Please be kind to my fiancée; she’s had a lot to drink. Posca, right?” Coriolanus darkly attempted a somber joke. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on her. We’ll be getting home. Thank you all for coming out to celebrate us tonight.” Sorry to call it a night with so much night left.” He said softly.

Coriolanus led her to the edge of the dance floor where he had spotted her shoes. He grabbed the red shoes from the floor and carried them dangling from his free hand as he walked her to the door and down the stairs to the sidewalk. [Y/N] had a vague memory of Coriolanus summoning their driver via the valet at the door. She was too busy noticing how her stockings caught on the sidewalk with every step.

“Darling?” Coriolanus whispered, leaning down to whisper to her. “You were brilliant.”

“Really?” She sniffled hesitantly. “Because I’m fairly certain that everyone in that room hates me.”

“Any press is good press.” Coriolanus reminded her with a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“For you, maybe. I made a mistake asking for that…” she kicked at a stray stone on the sidewalk. “I am probably the biggest villain in Panem right now.” [Y/N] said, shaking her head a little with a sad laugh.

“Not a villain,” Coriolanus scoffed. “A star.”

PART II HERE

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @ndycrls @arminsarlerts @catlover420sstuff @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @watermelonharry @ohantonia @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @nananarwhal @taykorsyogurt

sorry - some of them would not process and actually tag! i tried!!!!! non functional tags indicated with strikethru

[halfmoonaria]

when she lied

pairing: g!p sam carpenter & female reader

summary: your relationship with sam takes a turn when it’s supposed to be perfect.

word count: 4.5k

author’s note: based on the scene from the last kiss. my posts are flopping so bad its ridicilous, so if this does i wont be surprised.

Dating a professor was never in your plans growing up, let alone one tangled in rumors of being a serial killer.

But despite the unsettling rumors about Sam, you found yourself getting pulled in; as if she was a magnetic force.

You first met Sam at a local bookshop's author event, a quaint spot filled with the scent of old books and freshly brewed coffee.

The moment she walked in, you immediately thought she was the most breathtaking woman you'd ever seen. Her presence commanded the room, and you couldn't take your eyes off her.

It was no different for Sam. She thought you were straight-up gorgeous from the moment she saw you.

However, with her troubled past and a promise to only trust Tara and the twins, it was hard to break through her defenses. But your persistence and genuine care slowly chipped away at her walls.

You showed her kindness and understanding, proving that love and trust were still possible.

Over time, she began to let you in, sharing parts of herself that she had kept hidden for so long. Your patience and love helped her believe in a future where she could trust someone new.

Sam allowed you to take her out on dates, cautiously at first. You spent evenings at cozy restaurants, weekends exploring the city, and quiet nights at home, gradually building a bond that felt unbreakable. Each date brought you closer, and before long, you couldn't imagine life without each other.

It wasn't until Sam had built a solid trust in you that she felt comfortable introducing you to Tara. She was an important person in Sam's life, and she wanted to be sure you were someone who could truly be part of their family.

Tara was skeptical, her protective nature making it difficult for her to warm up to you.

However, as she observed your genuine care for Sam and saw how well you fit into their lives, her perspective softened. Tara eventually grew to appreciate you and welcomed you into the family with open arms.

Eventually, you both had decided on taking the next step and move in together. It was a big decision, but it felt right. You found a charming apartment that was perfect for starting your life together.

During this time, Sam transitioned from being a high school teacher to a college professor. She was passionate about her work and excelled in her new role, gaining respect from colleagues and students alike.

Her career move not only marked a professional milestone but also brought a sense of stability and accomplishment to your shared life.

In your own professional life, you worked as a child psychologist, helping kids navigate their emotions and overcome challenges.

And even though both of your busy occupations demanded a lot of your time, you both cherished the moments you could steal away together, whether it was meeting up after work or spending hours of love making past midnight; not caring if you had work the next day.

And you always made an effort to prioritize each other. Often, Sam would come to meet you after work, witnessing your interactions with the children.

She admired the ease with which you connected with them, the patience you showed, and the gentle way you guided them through their struggles. Seeing you in your element, she felt herself  being moved by your compassion and dedication.

It was in these moments that she became even more eager to start a family with you, convinced that together, with your nurturing nature, you could offer a child a truly loving and supportive environment.

She never said or mentioned it to you, afraid you'd find it too soon and leave her because of her sounding too pushy or desperate.

However, when you showed Sam a positive pregnancy test, beaming with joy and excitement. She failed to keep the thoughts inside her.

She couldn't wait to have kids with you. It was all she ever wanted, it was going to make everything even more perfect.

It was all perfect.

You had everything. Everything you could've asked for.

A wonderful girlfriend, a job you enjoyed and cherished, and now; a growing life inside of you.

You were going to be a mother, alongside the love of your life.

In your mind you had it all. And Sam had not yet to disagree.

Until you started to question everything you have.

Cracks began to appear as reality set in. With your pregnancy, you knew that your stomach would soon begin to grow, and you would have to make significant changes.

As your pregnancy progressed, you faced the undeniable truth that you would need to quit working soon. The physical demands of carrying a child meant that your ability to balance work and personal life was diminishing.

More troubling was the fact that the time you once spent with Sam seemed to evaporate.

She had begun to claim she was "working late" or "staying at the office," but these excuses were becoming increasingly frequent.

You started to notice that instead of spending evenings together, Sam was often absent, and it became clear she was spending her time elsewhere.

You had never had second thoughts or hesitation about you and Sam, but as the dinners alone and nights that was spent waiting for her to come home increased, you were starting to.

The life you had envisioned seemed to be disintegrating, replaced by an unsettling uncertainty about your future together.

It was a damp and dreary Thursday, the kind that soaked through your shoes and lingered in your bones.

The clock was nearing midnight, and Sam had yet to come home.

You sat alone in the couch of the living room, remnants of a cold dinner in the kitchen waiting for her just as much as you were.

The clock ticked louder with each passing minute, amplifying your growing concern as Sam continued to miss your text messages and calls. Your anxiety was palpable.

Finally, the front door finally creaked open, and Sam walked in, her face looking weary and her clothes slightly disheveled. You rose from the couch, feeling the weight of your pregnancy more acutely with each movement. Though your belly was still modest, the curve was noticeable.

You walked over to her, standing firmly in front of her, trying to meet her gaze. "Where have you been?" you asked, struggling to keep your voice steady and calm.

Sam seemed momentarily taken aback before she quickly tried to mask her discomfort. "I was at work," she said, though her eyes avoided yours.

You shook your head, hurt seeping into your tone. "You weren't at work until eleven o'clock at night." Taking a deep breath, you added, "Please, don't lie to me."

Sam's shoulders slumped, and her gaze fell to the floor. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken truths, and you could sense the growing distance between you. The warmth and closeness you once shared seemed to be slipping away, replaced by a cold uncertainty that left you questioning everything you had believed to be true.

You watched her closely, noticing the disheveled state of her clothes—her shirt slightly untucked, her hair a mess. Something about her appearance didn't sit right with you. The scent of an unfamiliar perfume lingered faintly in the air, a detail that only heightened your unease.

"Who were you with?" you asked, your voice tinged with a mix of fear and suspicion. The late hours, the unanswered messages, and now this—everything pointed to something being terribly wrong.

"I was at work," Sam insisted, avoiding your gaze. "There was no one else. I was the only one who had work and essays left to correct."

You stepped closer, your heart pounding, your voice trembling. "Who were you with, Sam?" Tears threatened to spill over as you thought about all the nights she'd been late recently, all the missed dinners, and the growing distance between you.

You needed to hear her say it, to confirm the gnawing doubt that had been eating at you.

Her eyes flickered with panic, her facade starting to crack. The room fell into a heavy silence, the tension thick and suffocating.

She looked down, unable to meet your eyes.

"This girl I met it was nothing," she blurted out, her words rushed and desperate.

Your heart sank, the weight of her betrayal crashing over you. And without thinking, you raised your hand and slapped her across the face.

The slap wasn't hard, it didn't physically hurt her. She just felt the contact, her reaction one of pure shock. Her eyes widened more stunned by the act than the impact.

You were shaking so badly that the force behind the slap was minimal, driven more by your emotional turmoil than any physical strength.

Sam's expression shifted from shock to a mixture of guilt and sorrow, her shoulders slumping. She knew she deserved it.

Trying to calm yourself down, you took a deep breath, but your voice still quivered with anger. "Did you fuck her?"

You didn't care about the specifics—who the girl was or how Sam had met her. "Tell me, did you cheat on me?"

Sam's face was a mask of regret, her eyes pleading for understanding that you couldn't give. She took a deep breath, as if trying to find the right words, but there was nothing that could make this right.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The silence stretched between you, heavy and oppressive.

Her shoulders slumped further, her body language betraying the truth before she even spoke. She took a deep breath, as if trying to find the right words, but there was nothing that could make this right.

She nodded slowly, whispering, "Yes."

The single word struck you like a physical blow, knocking the breath out of your lungs. It was as if the ground had been pulled out from under you, and you were falling into a bottomless pit of despair. The room blurred as your eyes filled with tears.

A searing pain tore through your chest, unlike anything you had ever felt before. It wasn't just the pain of betrayal; it was the shattering of dreams, the destruction of trust, and the end of the future you had envisioned together. Your heart, which had once beat with love and joy, now felt like it was being ripped apart.

You turned around, walking away, your hands in your hair as you struggled to contain the flood of emotions. "Oh god, you make me sick," you almost screamed, the pain and anger tearing through your voice. The tears flowed freely now, blurring your vision as you tried to make sense of the reality that had been thrust upon you.

Sam's eyes followed your every movement, filled with regret but devoid of tears.

She had felt a gnawing disgust with herself both before and after sleeping with her. The guilt had been a constant companion, whispering in the back of her mind and tarnishing her thoughts.

But seeing the raw pain and heartbreak in your eyes now, the depth of your betrayal laid bare, was a torment far beyond anything she had imagined.

The reality of what she had done, the gravity of her actions, hit her with an overwhelming force. Her own self-loathing was nothing compared to the devastation she had caused you, and the weight of that realization made her feel truly sick to her core.

Yet she seemed unable to cry, as if knowing her tears would do nothing to soothe the hurt she had caused.

The tears continued to fall, each one a silent cry of your broken heart. You had given Sam everything, your love, your trust, your future; and she had thrown it all away. The realization was almost too much to bear, the pain so intense that it felt like you were being torn apart from the inside.

As you moved through the house, Sam followed, a sense of desperation in her steps. She knew she had to say something, anything, to try and fix the situation.

"Wait, please," Sam pleaded, her voice breaking. She reached out but didn't touch you, afraid her touch would only make things worse.

You walked into the living room, your mind racing, needing space to think, to breathe. Sam's presence was suffocating.

You began to pace, your movements erratic, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Sam stood a few feet away, wringing her hands. "It was one time," she began, her voice trembling. "And it meant absolutely nothing."

You stopped pacing but didn't turn to face her, your eyes filled with hurt and disbelief. The reality of her words only made the pain sharper, cutting deeper.

"It was a stupid thing, baby" she continued, her tone pleading for understanding. "Just a stupid thing." She repeated shortly after.

"I'm so sorry." Sam tried.

Her attempt at an apology only left a more bitter taste in your mouth.

How can she apologize when she had been keeping this hidden from you for weeks, months even?

Just then, Sam's phone buzzed, the sound cutting through the heavy silence like a knife. You glanced at the phone in her hand, a sudden, cold suspicion gripping you.

Without thinking, you reached out and snatched the phone from her. Sam's eyes widened in shock, but she didn't stop you. She knew she couldn't.

You looked at the screen, and there it was; a name you didn't recognize, but the message was clear: "Had a great time tonight. Can't wait to see you again." You read the message aloud, your voice dripping with disgust.

Sam's face crumpled, the regret etched deeply in her features. She stood there, the weight of her actions crashing down on her, unable to do anything but watch as the person she loved crumbled before her eyes.

Your heart sank, the final piece of evidence falling into place. You turned the phone towards her, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. "Who is she?"

Sam's face paled, her eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and fear. "Her name is Lily," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Lily." You repeated.

"How old is she?" you demanded, your voice barely holding back the fury and disgust. The interest of who was worth ruining your whole future together growing.

Sam hesitated, avoiding your gaze. "Is she your colleague? Boss? Student? You've always liked them younger."

"Stop," Sam pleaded, her voice barely audible.

"How old is she, Sam?" you pushed, your desperation breaking through.

"Nineteen," Sam blurted out. "She's nineteen, alright?" The moment the words left her mouth, she seemed to regret it, her shoulders slumping further under the weight of her confession.

You felt a wave of nausea wash over you, threatening to make you sick. "She's nineteen, Sam? You slept with a fucking nineteen-year-old?" you screamed, the reality of her betrayal hitting you with full force.

She didn't answer, her silence only deepening the wound. She stood there, her eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and self-loathing, knowing that nothing she could say would make this right.

Sam had always been the most confident and strongest woman you had ever known. She had faced down her own demons and the judgment of the world, standing tall when people whispered about her being the daughter of a serial killer.

She had protected Tara fiercely, fought off threats both physical and emotional, and had always seemed unbreakable.

You remembered the times she had confronted dangers head-on, her bravery almost intimidating. The way she took charge during crises, her unwavering resolve, and the sheer force of her willpower. Sam had always been a rock, someone who never showed fear or doubt.

But now, as she stood before you, she looked scared. Her eyes, usually so steely and determined, were now wide and pleading. She seemed small, fragile, a stark contrast to the woman who had faced down killers and public scorn without flinching.

As you looked at her, you saw something you had never seen before—pity. Pity for herself, and maybe for you too. Her gaze was filled with it, and it made your heart ache even more. Sam had never felt pity for anyone before, not in the way you had seen.

She had always been the strong one, the protector. But now, she looked at you with eyes that seemed to say she was sorry for everything, for every ounce of pain she had caused.

Although her puppy eyes and guilty stare didn't help. In fact, it made you even more furious. And the rage was starting to boil over.

Your head felt like it was pounding, and you felt sick of the thought that Sam had let somebody else touch her. And you wanted to know why.

"What's so wrong with me then?" you technically shouted, your voice breaking. "Am I too old for you now?"

Sam flinched at your tone of voice, her eyes filling with tears, threatening to fall when she shook her head as soon as the question left your lips.

"No, it's not like that" she whispered.

"Does she have a better body?" You continued, voice breaking.

"No, Y/n please, it's not about that." Sam pleaded, but you were relentless.

"Did I not fuck you good enough?" you demanded, the hurt and anger making your voice tremble. "Is that it?"

Sam's face crumbled, and she shook her head desperately. "It wasn't about you. It was never about you"

"Then what is it, Samantha? What's so fucking special about her? Is she prettier than me?"

"No!" she replied as soon as the words left your lips, the answer immediate and forceful. Sam's eyes locked onto yours, filled with a raw honesty.

Your looks had always captivated Sam, from the way your eyes sparkled with emotion to the way your hair framed your face perfectly. She loved the way your smile could brighten a room, the way your presence brought her comfort.

You were everything she had ever dreamed of having in a partner when she was little, and she hoped you knew that.

She used to tell you all the time, to remind you how much you meant to her. But she had stopped when Lily started showing interest.

She wished more than anything that you could see yourself through her eyes, to understand the depth of her admiration and love for you. But now, as she stood there, seeing the heartbreak in your eyes, she realized she had ruined everything. Her betrayal had shattered the trust and love you had built together, and she feared she had lost any chance of you ever believing in her again.

"Liar!" you screamed, the fury in your voice reverberating through the room.

You knew something had pulled her to Sam, some inexplicable attraction that drew them together, but it only made the betrayal sting more. The knowledge that she had chosen someone else, even for a fleeting moment, was unbearable.

You pushed Sam, your hands hitting her shoulders with desperate force. She stumbled back, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and regret. Her back hit the lamp on the drawer, the shade tilting precariously before falling to the side.

"What am I supposed to do now?" you demanded, pushing her again. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" Each shove punctuated your words, your voice breaking with anguish. "You've ruined everything!"

Sam flinched with each push, her hands raised slightly as if to steady herself, but she didn't try to stop you. She knew she deserved every bit of your anger, every word of your pain. Her eyes filled with tears she refused to shed, her heart aching at the sight of your devastation.

"Will you listen to me, Y/n? It meant absolutely nothing!" Sam pleaded, her voice breaking as she tried to reach out to you.

You stopped pushing her, your hands trembling with a mix of rage and sorrow. The room seemed to close in around you, the weight of her words and the betrayal pressing down on you.

"Nothing?" you echoed, your voice filled with disbelief. "You slept with her. You were out with another woman all night. I'm pregnant, is that fucking nothing to you?"

"Yes! I mean, no," Sam stammered, her voice cracking under the pressure.

"How many times did you fuck her?" you demanded, your voice icy and resolute. "And don't you dare lie to me."

Sam's face went pale, her eyes pleading as if begging you to retract the question. She hesitated, her gaze flickering between you and the floor, clearly struggling with the weight of her confession. Each second felt like an eternity as she fought to keep her composure.

You remained silent, staring at her with a mixture of anger and heartbreak, your eyes unyielding. The room seemed to grow colder with the intensity of the moment, the air thick with tension.

Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, Sam looked up at you, her voice barely a whisper. "Three times," she said, her tone cracking with guilt.

You turned away, unable to bear the weight of her confession. Your heart felt like it was being crushed under a mountain of stress, shock, and disgust. "I think I'm going to throw up," you said, your voice barely a whisper as you walked toward the kitchen.

You needed to get away from Sam, to escape the suffocating reality of her betrayal. The sight of her was too much, her presence a painful reminder of the lies and broken trust.

But of course, she followed you, her footsteps echoing in the silence that hung heavy between you.

"But it didn't mean anything, baby," she rambled, her voice trembling with desperation.

"She made me realize I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know that now." Her words tumbled out, as if saying them repeatedly would somehow make everything right.

You stopped just short of the kitchen entrance, turning to face her with a look of fierce anger and hurt.

"I'm five months pregnant, and you're already out trying to fuck other women!" you screamed, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions.

The words hung in the air.

Sam stood there in silence, the weight of her actions pressing down on her like a ton of bricks. She knew there was no justification, no excuse that could make this right.

The realization of what she had done washed over her, leaving her feeling hollow and regretful. She had always prided herself on being strong and confident, but now, faced with the consequences of her betrayal, she felt weak and powerless.

The sight of you, the person she loved and admired most, looking at her with such hurt and anger, made her stomach churn. She wanted to speak, to beg for your forgiveness, but the words caught in her throat, tangled in her guilt.

You stared at her, waiting for something—anything—that could make this less painful. But her silence only deepened the wound. "Fuck you, Sam. It's over."

You turned away from her, walking into the kitchen with a sense of finality. Sam followed, her voice trembling as she called your name. "Y/n..." she started, her tone almost pleading as if she couldn't believe this was happening. You walked further, needing to put distance between you and her.

"Get out right now," you commanded, turning around to face her, your voice filled with a quiet threat. "I'll tell you when you can come and get your shit. Maybe Lily can help you pack." You spat the girl's name like a curse, the mere sound of it making your skin crawl.

Your head was pounding, the pain intense and unrelenting, threatening to explode. The pressure of trying to hold back sobs was almost unbearable, and the anger in your voice was the only thing keeping you from breaking down completely. You stood there, trembling, every muscle in your body taut with the effort of keeping it together.

Sam took a hesitant step forward, her voice trembling but attempting to remain calm. "Y/n, we're having a baby together," she reasoned, her tone a poor mask for the panic bubbling beneath the surface.

She knew deep down that her words wouldn't reach you, that her calm facade was crumbling. Her mind was spiraling, grasping at any hope to salvage what was left.

You turned around sharply, your eyes blazing with anger. "No," you snapped, your voice cutting through the air like a knife. "I'm the one having this baby. I'm the pregnant one. Not you."

Sam opened her mouth to say something, but you cut her off, your voice rising with each word.

"Get the fuck out, Sam, or I swear I'll call the police," you threatened, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and desperation. Sam's eyes widened with shock, and she took a step back, realizing the gravity of your words.

You didn't know what you would say to the police, or if you'd even call them to begin with, but you saw how she looked at you as if you were ready to do whatever it took to get her out of there, so she believed you would actually do it.

"Y/n, please..." she started, but the look in your eyes silenced her.

"Leave," you commanded, your voice steadier now, but no less fierce. "I can't stand the sight of you right now."

But when Sam didn't move, you realized you no longer had the strength to scream at her.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You needed her to understand, to listen to you just one last time. "Will you just get out, please?" you said, your tone softer now, almost pleading.

The exhaustion was overwhelming, making your limbs feel heavy and your vision blur at the edges.

You felt like you might faint from the sheer emotional toll of the confrontation. Sam hesitated for a moment longer, her eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness, but finding none.

With a resigned nod, she turned and walked out, leaving you standing there, the silence of the room pressing in on you, suffocating.

Your thoughts swirled in a chaotic mix of anger, sadness, and disbelief. The betrayal felt like a raw, open wound, each memory of Sam's deceit a fresh stab to your heart.

The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing in as if to suffocate the last remnants of your strength. You reached out for something to hold onto, trying to anchor yourself in a reality that felt increasingly surreal.

The silence now felt deafening, a stark contrast to the heated exchange that had just occurred. It was a silence that spoke of a fractured future, of dreams and trust irrevocably shattered.

When you two first met, Sam was the one who struggled to trust strangers or new people.

Now, you were the one left with the painful understanding that even those you've loved for years could betray you.

[michelle-is-writing]

Prom Night, Eddie Munson

Word Count: 1.2k~

Dustin loved hearing Eddie Munson’s stories. He had countless stories about anything and everything, none of which were ever boring. In his mind, Dustin could only hope he’d be as cool as Eddie with his guitar and never ending knowledge over dungeons and dragons one day. Because of his love for the man, Dustin imagined how prom must’ve been for Eddie, and with one question, he got Eddie to recall the entire night.

“How was prom for you?”

Eddie had been putting off anything that involved prom. He didn’t even care to look at suits or ties as he had already decided he wasn’t going to go. He didn’t have a girlfriend, and the girl whom he wanted to go to prom with was way out of his league, according to him. She was his best friend, and everyone knew that, but they also saw the longing look he had in his eyes every time he looked at her. Eddie felt like he loved her like no other - but how could he tell her that?

The day of the prom, most of the girls were absent toward the end of the day as they were all allowed to leave early to get ready. However, there was one girl Eddie was surprised to see still at the school. As much as he loved spending time with her, he questioned her as to why she was still there and not using the time the school had surprisingly allowed them.

“Why not?” She retorted, leaning back in her chair with a small shrug. “No one asked me, so why bother.”

Her words made his eyebrows quickly go down in confusion. How could no one have asked her out?

Instead of asking her exactly that, he sat back in his chair. “I’m not going either,” he sheepishly admitted, rubbing a hand against his arm as he bit his lip nervously. In his head, he pondered if he should just ignore his hesitation and worry, and just go for it? He always tiptoed around letting (Y/n) know about his true feelings for her, but there would be no tiptoeing now.

“Hey,” her voice broke him away from his anxious thoughts, causing his head to snap to hers. Immediately, his eyes were locked on how pretty she looked at that moment, making his mouth move before his thoughts.

“Yes, pretty girl?” Eddie asked her, making her cheeks turn to a deeper red as her lips unfolded into a huge smile. He had never called her that before, but she liked it - she liked it a lot.

“Why don’t we go to the prom tonight? And see all the moron football players try to bust a move to Madonna,” (Y/n) suggested to Eddie, making him laugh loudly in the school’s library they were sat in. No one was around to care though, and (Y/n) certainly wasn’t going to complain about Eddie.

“I would love that.”

Eddie’s response to her invitation to prom would leave a forever lasting mark on their relationship, a good mark though. Before picking her up, Eddie sat in his van, clad in an old suit of his uncle's while anxious thoughts raced through his head. "A beautiful girl going out with the weirdo, what could go wrong?" he questioned himself, the worries of other people's reactions to seeing them together flashing through his mind.

However, once he arrived to her home and went inside (with a hastily made-corsage he put together with a rose and couple strands of baby's breath, no less), all of his fears and worries simply disappeared after seeing her in the (f/c) dress she wore that night. Sure, Eddie had seen her dressed up a few times for picture day at school, but this was a sight he never witnessed before. Her hair was pinned and curled, her dress looked perfect, she wore makeup that only enhanced her features, but most of all, Eddie couldn't look away from the bright smile she had while staring back at him. In that moment he knew he would never regret his decision.

“I wasn’t going to go,” Eddie explained to Dustin, leaning his head back against the chair with a small huff. “I was very anti-prom since I couldn’t grow a pair and ask a certain pretty girl out,” he further added, a smirk curling at his lips as memories of him and his beloved before they started dating flashed through his head.

“What pretty girl was that?” Dustin asked, making Eddie throw his head back in dramatics and roll his eyes. However, just as he did that, his brown orbs caught sight of the woman he loved walking toward him. Taking the opportunity laid out before him, Eddie quickly leaned up from his slouching position before throwing his arms around (Y/n) as she came up beside his chair and pulling her to sit sideways on his lap. His actions only made the girl giggle as she situated herself in his hold, used to her boyfriend’s antics by now.

“This one right here,” Eddie pointed out to Dustin, his arms now wrapped around her waist. To get more comfortable, she reciprocated his actions and wrapped her arms around his neck, causing their gazes to meet each other. Eddie’s smile only grew at the sight of her (e/c) orbs shining back at him as he lifted a hand to push her hair back, something he often found himself doing out of habit. “but thankfully, she came and asked me out.”

Before she could ask what their conversation was about, Dustin quickly interjected with a question of his own. “You asked him out?!”

Immediately, realization flashed across her face as her mouth formed a small 'o' shape. “Oh, are you talking about prom?” She reaffirmed, turning back to face Eddie. Still smiling, he nodded dopily at her as he remained entranced by the way her hair happened to fall that day.

Now smiling warmly, she turned her attention back to Dustin. “Well, technically, yes,” (Y/n) explained, letting out a small laugh afterward. “but it was more of a ‘hey, you wanna go crash the prom with me?’ kind of deal, and he totally went for it.”

“I couldn’t have asked for a better prom date,” Eddie stated, making (Y/n) giggle once more while she leaned farther into his hold.

“I think I’m more than just your old prom date at this point, right?” she murmured to him, making him flash his teeth at her with a bright grin. In front of them, Dustin turned away from the sight of the two as a warm feeling spread over him. He wondered if he had that same lovestruck look on his face when he gazed at Susie, or vice versa.

“Oh, most definitely, love of my life,” Eddie clarified, leaning down to press a kiss to her arm currently resting against his shoulder. At the same time, (Y/n)'s grip on him only tightened as she moved forward to connect their lips in a slow, small kiss, still careful not to do too much in front of the kids. Pulling away after a few moments, the same entranced look came over Eddie’s face as he spoke up once more. “You are so much more than just an old prom date.”

With that, (Y/n)’s smile only grew more before she moved to rest her head on his shoulder, looking up at him. “I’m glad,” she murmured, their eyes remaining locked on each other as giggle fell from her lips. “Because you're so much more than just a prom date to me, love of my life.”

[ellecdc]

babe I recently discovered ur account and now I'm obsessed!!!!! I have devoured ur masterlist! Also I'm new to tumblr so I'm sorry if I'm doing or saying anything wrong pls correct me! I just wanna hype u up queen! Also ok fic request! It's not smut it's smut adjacent! I imagine this with Remus but u can totally change it if u want! Imagine reader whose boobs get super sore before her period and may be Remus is trying to initiate sex like they r making out and he goes to touch her boob and she winces and he's like did I just hurt u? And she's like no no it's fine and may be he believes her but he touches her again and she flinches and he's just like what is wrong don't lie and it's that her ex never cared if her boobs hurt or sex sad painful before her period and just Remus love (sorry it's so long def self indulgent bc my boobs r super sore and sex kinda hurts leading up my period and I just want someone to understand and not make me feel guilty about it)

aawweeee so glad you found me! and thanks for the prompt, lovie <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader whose boobs are sore close to her period [1.4k words]

CW: things get sort of steamy/lead up to smut with no real smut, sexual & non-sexual nudity, mature themes, 18+

You couldn’t help the smile that took over your face when you heard Remus navigating the hall in a way you could tell he thought to be quiet before his head of messy, tawny brown curls appeared in the crack of your bedroom door.

“Hi dove.” He murmured softly as if still unsure if you were asleep or not; his eyes were warm and sweet as honey as he smiled widely and unbiddenly at you.

“Hi handsome.” You greeted in return as you put your book down and invited him in which he accepted eagerly.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He moaned as he crawled up into the bed and melted into you; arms weasingly around your middle as he shoved his face into the crook of your neck greedily. 

“Missed me?” You laughed as you threaded your fingers through his hair. “You were hardly gone three hours.”

“S’too long.” He mumbled, earning him a giggle as you tried to pull away at the tickle of his breath against your neck.

He groaned somewhat hungrily as he pulled you in tighter, beginning to trace kisses up the column of your throat.

You tightened your grip of his hair which only seemed to spur him on as he shifted so he was hovering over half of you. 

“Didn’t you miss me?” He asked under his breath before bringing his lips to yours for an agonisingly long and slow kiss. “Hm?” He continued as if he hadn’t just impeded your ability to answer him. 

“I always miss you, Rem.” You murmured back as he began marking kisses along your jaw and trailing towards your chest. 

He made a sympathetic sound as he got to the top of the tank top you usually slept in, hooking his finger along the neckline and pulling it out of his way to expose your - quite swollen, actually - tits. 

“Neither of us should ever be allowed to leave.” He concurred, switching between wet, open mouthed kisses and sucking love bites into your exposed skin. 

“Don’t you think your friends would miss you?” You asked then, thoroughly enjoying the show as you continued to mess with his hair. 

“Tough.” He said simply before moving his hand to cup one of your breasts to lift it into his mouth, causing you to suck in a pained breath.

All movements stopped and Remus seemed to be holding his breath as his eyes flit up to yours. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asked cautiously.

You let out the breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding and nodded at him. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” You agreed, trying to ignore how painfully sensitive your boobs were this close to your period as you encouraged his face back down to your chest.

With only a little hesitation, he continued his ministrations before moving over to your other to bestow upon it the same amount of care. 

You could feel him growing hard as he repositioned himself in your lap, and you tried to focus on that slightly warm feeling trying to grow between your legs (though not nearly as effectively as it had been the week prior) and his pleasure as you allowed him to take from you what he pleased.

But one more firm grasp of your tit had you wincing with a small whine and a flip was switched.

Remus was kneeling; his hands no longer on you which only made you wince in embarrassment rather than pain as he scrutinised you.

“What happened, dove? What’d I do?”

“Nothing, Rem, you didn’t do an-”

“Don’t fib.” He interrupted, his tone stern but his lip jutting out in a very dramatic pout. 

“I’m okay.” You murmured, though you did attempt to sit up and replace your boobs into the confinement of your tank top. Remus watched the action with rapt attention. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asked then, and his voice sounded so small that you actually wanted to cry.

“No! No, baby, I’m- ugh, I’m sorry, you didn’t hurt me, I’m just hurting.” You appeased, reaching out to stroke his arm in a manner you hoped to be soothing. 

He seemed to consider your form again as his shoulders sagged. “You’re sore.” He concluded. 

“Yeah, I… well, I get a little sore around this time of the month, you know?” You admitted, watching as Remus’ expression shifted from one of worry to one of abject horror.

“Dovey.” He chided as he stared at you wide eyed.

“It’s okay! I’m fine, we can keep going if you want, I-”

But you only seemed to horrify him even more as his head reared back in shock. “Keep going!? Baby, you are sore to the touch and you were just going to let me maul you?!”

You found yourself very much ill-prepared for this conversation as you shook your head in confusion. “Well, I just meant, if you wanted to we-”

But Remus was scoffing and waving you off before standing abruptly and moving towards the attached bathroom, scolding you along the way.

“Bollocks to what I want, dove. My desire doesn’t come before your comfort.” He explained before you heard water running and him muttering something in Welsh under his breath. 

You were having a hard time understanding whether you were in actual trouble or not before he came padding back out of the bathroom - still muttering to himself in Welsh - with a divot between his brows and a damp washcloth in his hands.

“Take this off, dove.” He directed; tone now soft and alerting you to the fact that there was no real heat behind his chiding.

You obediently shed your tank top and tossed aside as Remus guided you to lay back onto your pillows and placed the cold cloth on your chest.

“Poor girls.” He cooed as he situated himself beside you. “Was being s’mean to them, too.” 

“Rem-”

He simply shushed you and placed a quick kiss on your nose before dotting a gentle one on each of your tits. 

“They’re gonna hate me; they’re gonna think I’m a monster.” He lamented woefully before standing up to change into his pyjamas. 

“They don’t know a damn thing.” You laughed as you let out a breath, relishing in the ease of your banter with Remus.

You weren’t used to it; things being easy, that is. Relationships always felt like hard work before.

Your relationship with Remus still required work, mind you, but it wasn’t hard; it was comfortable and patient and flexible and understanding.

There was no forcing puzzle pieces to fit when their edges didn’t match, there was no walking on eggshells wondering what sort of mood he was going to be in, and there was no stewing on conversations as you tried and failed to fall asleep at night wondering what in the hell you’d manage to do wrong this time.

No, Remus was easy; he was easy to get along with, easy to live with, easy to love.

He was just so easy.

You hoped he thought the same of you.

“Dovey.” He murmured quietly, now apparently kneeling on the floor on your side of the bed as he rested his chin on his forearms. “You know that, right?” He continued when you opened your eyes to look at him.

“Know what?” 

His mouth pursed again in a small pout before he leaned forward to press a kiss to your shoulder. 

“That what I want should never come before what you need; that my desires are nowhere near as important as your comfort.”

His eyes moved to watch as you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. “Okay.” You whispered.

He let out a sad breath as his brows twitched in sympathy, but you were thankful he opted not to comment on it. 

“I love you.” He offered then, eyes moving back up to yours as he used one of his knuckles to rub at your upper arm affectionately.

“I love you too.” You answered readily. 

He seemed appeased by that and stood to press a more assured kiss to your lips. “Do you want me to run this under cold water again? Or would something else help?”

You pretended to think about it before looking back up at him through your lashes. “Think we could cuddle?”

Remus let out a chuckle as he pressed another kiss, this time to your forehead, and pulled the cloth off of your chest. 

“It’s like you read my mind, sweetheart.”

[aphroditelovesu]

Valyrian Heritage | Yan!Mom Rhaenyra Targaryen, Yan!Dad Laenor Velaryon

— summary: Being the only legitimate child of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon is not an easy task and you have learned the truth the hard way.

❝warnings: is not compatible with canon, Reader is referred to as having classic Valyrian characteristics, mention of violence, insults to the Velaryon brothers, and yandere platonic relationships, messy writing.

❝ 🐉 lady l: I don't know if it was good and I apologize for that. This imagine focuses more on the drama and I would love to write a sequel if anyone wants! Good reading and drink plenty of water. Love you all.

❝word count: 1,877.

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen's screams could be heard throughout most of the Red Keep.

The princess had gone into labor over two hours ago and everyone was looking forward to the birth of Rhaenyra and Laenor's first child. Even though some had different motives and some were more selfish than others, anxiety could still be felt.

After what seemed like days of excruciating pain, a loud sound of crying was heard inside Rhaenyra's room.

''Shh...'' Rhaenyra whispered to the crying baby in her arms, trying to calm them down. She had no experience with this, however, this was her first child.

But she loved them. Oh, and how she loved them. Rhaenyra never thought she could love someone as much as she loved her child the first moment she held them in her arms.

She knew she would do anything for them.

Laenor entered the room at the exact moment the baby finally stopped crying and was about to fall asleep. Rhaenyra looked at him sternly and her husband was silent.

He approached silently and Rhaenyra handed him the baby.

''They are beautiful.'' Laenor whispered, moved. They looked exactly like their parents, the very definition of a valyrian. A few silver strands, its father's nose, its mother's skin, and beautiful dark purple eyes when they opened their eyes for the first time.

''They are.'' Rhaenyra confirmed, sitting down again. She was very tired and wanted to rest for a while.

''What's their name?'' Laenor murmured, looking fondly at the baby in his arms. So perfect, his child was so perfect.

Rhaenyra thought for a few minutes and then smiled, ''(Y/N) Targaryen.''

Laenor faced his wife and smiled in agreement, ''(Y/N) Velaryon.''

Rhaenyra smiled at her husband. Yes, Velaryon and Targaryen. It didn't really matter as this child was the product of both sides and she knew she would care for and protect them no matter what.

It was with these thoughts and the comfort in knowing that her child was being well looked after by the drooling father who cooed lovingly at the baby, that Rhaenyra finally allowed herself to fall asleep.

Later that day, Rhaenys and Corlys went to visit (Y/N). Laena could not be present, unfortunately, but she had sent a letter congratulating her brother and cousin on the birth of their child. Rhaenys had this letter with her when she entered the room with her husband.

Rhaenyra was holding her baby protectively and Laenor was glued to her side, arms crossed and staring at Alicent suspiciously.

Alicent had also entertained the idea of meeting her grandchild and Rhaenyra didn't seem willing to let her stepmother get her hands on her child.

''Let me see my grandchild!'' Corlys said excitedly and approached the protective mother. Rhaenyra looked at him for a few seconds, sighed and handed the baby to her father-in-law.

''They look like you, Laenor.'' Rhaenys commented after picking up her grandchild. Laenor smiled proudly.

In fact, (Y/N) looked like him even though they were so young. Laenor was sure that when they grow up they will be just like him. A powerful feeling took over Laenor's body. And he smiled even more at that.

Pride. He was completely proud.

Alicent approached Rhaenys, ''Let me see them.'' She said softly but firmly. Rhaenys hesitated a little, but let Alicent take her grandchild.

Rhaenyra was alarmed and Laenor placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her.

It's okay, Alicent would never dare do something with so many witnesses. Rhaenyra's shoulders relaxed a little but there was a tension present.

Alicent rocked the baby in her arms lovingly, smiling at them. They were beautiful, she thought. A pang of envy rose within the Queen. She wanted (Y/N) to be hers.

She blinked in surprise. That was it? But it was and Alicent knew it. Part of her knew that Rhaenyra wouldn't be a good mother to (Y/N) and she wanted to prevent future disappointments for them.

"They need to sleep." Rhaenyra said suddenly, standing up with her husband's help. Alicent looked at her skeptically and reluctantly handed (Y/N) over to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenys watched Alicent carefully and Corlys looked suspicious. The Queen was forced to retreat.

For now.

"I need to go see Aegon." Alicent stated to no one in particular, "But I will visit (Y/N) again with Viserys later."

Rhaenyra's only response was a slight nod, but she wasn't really paying attention.

Under the watchful eyes of the three Velaryon's present, Alicent left the room with hesitation and disgust.

As you grew, everything changed and it wasn't just your growth.

But family intrigues.

You had been the only legitimate child of the marriage of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon.

Everyone knew that Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey were bastards and sons of Harwin Strong. There was no denying it, not when you were Laenor's legitimate child, not when you looked exactly like him.

Not even Viserys had any arguments for that. And Alicent, Criston and Otto always made sure of reminding Rhaenyra about this.

Jacaerys' birth was a stab in the chest for Rhaenys and Corlys. And a triumph for Alicent.

You were only a year older than Jace, but you loved him deeply. It didn't matter that Jacaerys was different and this difference became even more visible after he grew up.

It didn't matter because you loved him. You loved Jace, you loved Luce, and you loved Joffrey. You loved all of your younger siblings and defended them fervently when their appearance was brought up. You constantly fought with Aegon and Aemond about it.

You got along well with Alicent and Viserys' children, your aunt and uncles. Mainly Helaena. You adored her, so sweet and so kind and she loved you fervently in return. It was very common for you to be together.

One day, you were in your room reading a book that Rhaenyra gave you and Aemond ran into your room. You dropped the book and got up in a hurry.

''What happened?'' Your voice was serious and Aemond blinked and pulled you into a hug, seeking comfort.

''They gave me a pig!''

You frowned, ''W-What?''

''Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys!'' Aemond held you tighter and every word that came out of his mouth was full of hatred. ''They said they were going to give me a dragon and they brought me a pig!''

Oh. You squeezed him back, trying to comfort your uncle.

''I'll talk to them.'' You stated and Aemond muttered a thank you under his breath, squeezing you as if his life depended on it.

When you scolded Aegon and your younger brothers, Aemond could be seen smiling creepily in the background.

You loved your entire family, your paternal and maternal grandparents, your parents, your uncles, your aunt, your brothers, all of them. And being a Velaryon and a Targaryen was amazing, but you felt trapped sometimes.

Trapped by your family.

You were often seen as the anchor of your family. What held them all together.

And you always agreed with that. Many of the fights that occurred you had to get involved in to separate both sides and as you grew up, you noticed it even more.

You realized that your family would never truly be reunited. And you found that out the hard way.

It was during the funeral of Laena Velaryon, your late aunt. You didn't spend much time with her but you felt sad. You stayed close to your grandparents and your father the whole time, trying to comfort them for the loss of their daughter and sister. They felt immensely grateful to have you there.

You have finally met your great-uncle, the infamous Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince.

He was everything the stories said. You felt uncomfortable with his strange looks in your direction and clung even tighter to your father who noticed Daemon's looks.

Laenor looked at Daemon suspiciously and pulled you away. Neither you nor your father noticed Daemon's eyes darken.

You lay in your room, trying to fall asleep when you were called to Driftmark's main hall after an accident involving your uncles and brothers. It wasn't until you found out what happened to Aemond that you knew all was lost.

You gasped in horror when you saw Aemond's face. Mutilated and missing an eye.

You approached him, under the burning gazes of those present. Alicent was furious and Viserys did nothing.

Your heart skipped a beat when Alicent stole Viserys' dagger and stormed off to try and gouge out Lucerys's eye in revenge. Your mother got in front and she was cut off.

You watched in horror at the cut and the way the blood dripped onto the floor. Aemond hugged you tighter and said everything was fine for his mother. It had been a fair exchange, he had lost a eye but had gained a dragon.

You knew the eye story wouldn't end there and you had confirmation years later.

You were stroking your mother's hair while she was being stitched up by the maester. You agonized every time the needle penetrated her soft skin and did your best to try and ease her pain.

Rhaenyra appreciated your concern and kissed your cheek after scolding your brothers.

Laenor entered the room and you hugged him, ''My child... I'm glad everything is okay with you'' He whispered against your hair, squeezing you tightly.

''I'm fine, dad. Mom is the one who's hurt.'' You mumbled. Laenor hugged you for a few more minutes and let you go, he turned and looked at Rhaenyra.

''I'm sorry for what happened to you and our children.'' Laenor took a deep breath and took a chair next to her. You stayed silent watching your parents interact.

Rhaenyra shook her head, ''It's not your fault.''

''No, it's not but I can't help but feel guilty. I've been neglecting you and Jace and Luce and Joffrey. And I regret that.''

Rhaenyra reached out and touched his arm, ''It's not your fault.'' She repeated again, with more firmness in her voice.

''I hate that I'm not the husband you needed, the father our children need.'' He whispered, ''I hate the way the gods made me.''

Your heart sank and you went to your father's side, hugging him. He smiled weakly at your affection.

''I don't hate.'' You mumbled.

''Neither do I.'' Your mother stated, ''You are a good and honorable man. That's something rare.'' They smiled and you felt lighter on that tragic day.

''I'm going to change. I will become a better husband and father.'' Your father said and pulled you into his arms, you smiled and hugged him back. Rhaenyra got up from her chair and walked over to you. She wrapped her arms around you and hugged you too.

You stayed for a while hugging your parents, feeling grateful for the peace that dominated your heart for a few minutes.

Because you knew it wouldn't last. Not when the next day a tragedy involved your entire family.

Dragons roared and storms broke out in the tragic night.

[xoxoavenger]

Can I request wolverine x reader where both of them were madly in love with each other, but reader was unfortunately by one of the sentanails (mutant killing robots), absolutely wreaking him. Then, he went back in time and when he gets to the mansion, and meets past reader (let’s say she also have longevity like Logan) who doesn’t know him at this point and taken of guard. When he’s trying to convince Charles that he’s from the future and needs his help and Charles is being stubborn and gets a little heated, reader is trying to calm things down and try to get everyone on the same page

so sorry this took literally forever. it was partly bc of how busy I was and partly bc I was afraid to write it, having such a popular dofp fic already (literally my fic with the most notes 😅)

Missing

pairing: Logan x Fem!Reader

word count: 2719

warnings: major character death (in the request but just in case), cannon typical violence and talk of violence

masterlist

Logan should have known this was coming.

His luck is shit. It always has been. For a hundred years now, he's felt like everything he touches goes to shit.

And then met Y/N.

She she wasn't shit. She was kind, smooth where he was rough, fitting him in all the right places. He was scared for awhile, afraid that it was too good to be true - her mutant ability being the projection of light. This power, the power of light, caused her to age slower. Charles had tried to explain it, multiple times in fact, but Logan was so lost every time that he just gave up eventually on trying to understand. All he knew was she aged slowly, just like he did, which means they could be together without him having the ever-present fear of watching her grow old.

He just never expected her to die.

He had known this was always a risk. She knew it too. And he also knew that they could have lived together, pretending like they weren't mutants, hoping from town to town, but she would never allow that. Him? He would have ran to that in a heartbeat, because he was selfish enough to want her to himself. To want to live, for the first time in two hundred years. He tried to fool himself, but how could he ever forget that he would always survive, while she simply didn't age as fast.

And that's how he should have known that everything was about to go downhill.

It happened in slow motion. But even then, it was 'unpreventable', as Charles would say. Logan knew the truth, though. It should have been him. He should have been the one to be hit with the laser. He should have been the one to have the hole inside him.

"No!" He screamed, running to her and sheathing his claws. He slides to catch her before she falls, but she's already dead in his arms. Her eyes are wide open, mouth paused in shock. Her body is limp, neck snapped back. And there's the four inch hole in her stomach, which he can see right through.

But he can't help but scream for her, calling her name. He shakes her, as if she's just asleep. As if he can fix this.

"Y/N," He cries softly, not moving as he's being pulled back. Suddenly he realizes his whole team is around him, trying to move him away from of his love. From his dead love. They're all screaming at him, and he knows that he's putting everyone in danger. But he can't let go of her. He can't bring himself to move. He closes his eyes, and then he lets out a guttural scream.

The next thing he remembers is being in a shelter, back against a wall and knees pulled against his chest. He blinks, realizing that he has no idea what happened after Y/N -

He doesn't want to think about that.

Everyone is under the shelter, talking and bandaging each other up. Logan wishes he couldn't heal, wishes he still had the marks on his body. But instead, he's left with just blood and and an empty chest.

"I can't send someone back that far. It would kill them." Kitty says, and hey, dying sounds exactly like what Logan wants right now.

"Send me." He speaks up, causing everyone to stop talking and turn to him.

"Your healing factor would help. As long as Kitty can keep you in the past that long." Charles says, and Logan remembers that his healing factor will keep him from dying. He thinks maybe he just hasn't tried hard enough to die. He's never wanted to more than he does right now.

"I can try." Kitty says with a nod. They all seem to know that if they don't do this, there is no future. They do this, or the Sentinels kill them all. They're at the end of the line. So they explain the plan, how Logan needs to get Charles and Erik on speaking terms again and stop the government from getting Mystic's blood. They think this will do the trick, that they may not be able to stop the downfall but they can stop the Sentinels. Logan realizes, then, that if he does this and it actually works, Y/N doesn't die. It reinvigorates him, starting his heart again.

They get into position, Logan laying on the makeshift table with conflicting emotions. He's mourning his lover, but he has some hope at least. He feels Kitty's hands by his head and before he knows it he's screaming, but it's not too long before he's in a bed, the bright sun beating down on him. He's with a girl - not Y/N, he didn't meet her until he met Charles, unfortunately - and he feels a little gross for it.

He gets into a fight immediately, and when his claws come out he realizes he doesn't have the metal that usually protects him. Shit. This stupid mission just keeps getting better and better. He gets shot, always a fun time, then starts the fight, just wanting to get it over with. He forgot how sensitive his stupid regular claws are, and he's tired of it by the time he makes it through the three guys. Now he needs to go to the mansion, which he has no idea what to find there.

~

He knocks on the door, sunglasses still on. It looks different, and not just because of the time, so he waits outside for a couple seconds for someone to answer the door. He can't even hear any kids running around, which is weird. He's so focused on this, he barely realizes someone answering the door.

"Hello, sir. We're closed, unfortunately, but I can give you directions to the nearest gas pump." She says with a smile. She's got a yellow shirt and jeans on, and Logan is pretty sure he doesn't know how to speak.

"Y/N?" He gets out, eyes clouding with tears. She looks taken aback, which shakes him up a little. He forgot that she wouldn't know who he was, of course.

"How do you know my name?" She asks, trying not to sound too skeptical. Her skin is glowing slightly, and Logan pulls his sunglasses off. It's all he can do not to cry,

"You're not gonna believe me." He chuckles, instantly feeling more at ease. How could he have forgotten that she would be here? He's never been more grateful for anything ever.

"Try me." She says, crossing her arms. He smirks and makes his way past her and into the mansion. "Hey! I didn't say you could come in!" She yells, and he looks around and his home, glad to see it standing.

"Where's the professor?" He asks, knowing it'd be easier to speak to Charles, who could read his mind.

"There is no professor. You must have the wrong place." Hank says as he walks down the stairs. Y/N turns and has a panicked look on her face, and Logan knows he needs to smooth this over.

"Listen, if you just let me talk to him, he'll know who I am. You won't believe me if I just tell you." He repeats, and Hank looks at Y/N before looking back at Logan, his face set.

"Like I said, there is no professor here. I think you should leave." Hank walks to be in front of Y/N, who looks conflicted.

"Who are you?" She asks, and Logan's heart skips a beat as he realizes that she's sticking up for him. She always said it was love at first sight, and maybe this is proof.

"I'm Logan." He says, and then he thinks about if he's actually going to tell them the next part. "And I'm from the future."

"Are you, now?" Charles is at the top of the stairs, and Logan startles when he sees that his friend doesn't have a wheelchair.

"Your legs," Logan starts, not sure what to say. He's caught off guard by a lot right now.

"Perceptive." Charlies says with a smirk as he walks down the stairs. Logan turns to Y/N, whose brows are furrowed.

"How did you know my name?" Y/N is still stuck on it, but it's almost like she's looking through him. She knows something is up.

"I'm from the future." He says, and the rest of the mutants in the room just stare at him. He looks at Charles, who is smirking. "You can read my mind. You know I'm telling the truth." At this, Charles' smile drops and his eyes squint.

"You have the wrong guy." His voice is low, and Logan shakes his head.

"No," Logan says, and Y/N tilts her head. It sounds crazy, someone from the future, but why would he lie? "I know who you are, Charles Xavier. So, read my mind, tell everyone I'm telling the truth, and can get on with what I came here to do." The room is silent as Logan and Charles stare at each other.

"I'm not that man anymore." Charles insists. Y/N knows he's not going to help, but she needs to know what this guy's deal is.

"What exactly is it you came here to do?" She asks, drawing his attention. He stares at her for a moment, making her a little concerned, but he looks lost and hurt, so she feels bad for him.

"In the future," Logan starts to get choked up, not able to look at any of them. He clears his throat, then continues. "The government was able to get Raven's blood. Because of you and Erik's feud. And they make these killers, called Sententials. Mutant killers." He can't look at them. Something happened, something bad. Clearly, if they're mutant killers, but this seems to be cutting Logan deep.

"How far in the future?" She asks, and it unsettles Logan. It's almost as if she knows, as if she's asking how long she has. He tries to remind himself that if he succeeds, she'll be okay. But will they still bet together if he changes the future? He has to hope. It's better for her to be alive, even if they aren't together. Everyone will be saved.

"Far." He answers, because he doesn't know how to tell her it's 50 years, doesn't want them to worry if they can't figure this out.

"How is this Erik and I's fault?" Charles asks, starting to get worked up. "If anything, it's solely his. I had nothing to do with this." He starts to leave, and Logan doesn't know what to do.

"You and Erik sent me from the future." Logan answers, causing everyone to pause. "You sent me because you need to work together."

"You're lying." Charles accuses.

"Well if you had your powers, you would know I'm not." Logan is starting to get worked up. This is harder than he thought it would be.

"I think you need to leave." Hank says, stepping forward. Y/N surprises them all by stepping forward as well.

"I think he's telling the truth." Y/N says, her gaze finally moving from Logan to Hank. "I think we should listen to him."

"Raven will die." Logan says, looking at Charles. "She's going to be experimented on and die. You can prevent this." Logan tries, hoping this will work. Charles glares at him, clearly not convinced.

"What about you?" Charles asks, lifting his chin. "What do you lose?"

"Did you miss the whole part about the mutant-killing machines?" Logan scoffs. Unbelievable, this young version of Charles. He'll take the old guy any day.

"No, no, no." Charles walks toward him, vacant look in his eyes somewhat clearing. "I may not be able to read minds anymore, but I know that you're in it for more than that."

"That's my business." Logan resists looking at Y/N, instead staring Charles down.

"And this is mine." Charles huffs. "I asked for your help years ago, and you told me to fuck off. I don't know what happens in the future, if you're telling the truth or not, but I do know that Erik will not be the one to stop it." He turns, and Logan knows he's losing him. He sighs, looking away from the small group.

"I lost Y/N." He says quietly. Somehow, the room goes even more silent as everyone stares at him.

"What?" She asks, barely able to breathe. He looks at her, face full of emotions she doesn't know how to decipher. She just met this man, but clearly he has known her for years.

"I found the school in 2000. You and Charles ran it, and I only stayed because of you. In my timeline, in 2023," He chokes up as the images of her flash through his mind. He wants to erase it, but it's there every time he closes his eyes. "The Sententials kill you. And they're going to kill all of us in the future, if you don't get your head out of your ass and make up with your boyfriend." Logan snaps the last part at Charles, who starts to get angry.

"Listen here-"

"Charles," Y/N starts, hand on his arm to stop him from walking even closer to Logan. She's glowing softly, emitting a calm, soothing light that even Logan can't help but admit makes his pulse slow. "Logan is giving us a chance to change the future. To save Raven."

"You're just saying that because you die." Charles lashes out, and that's how Logan knows he's not okay. He would never do that to her.

"We're all going to die!" Y/N yells. "Are you listening to him? You're probably dying in his timeline as we speak." She looks over to Logan, who is staring like she is the only person in the room.

"This is Erik's fault." Charles says, as if that made a difference.

"And it's going to be your fault if you don't listen to him." She softly speaks, and finally Charles sighs. Logan is grateful for Y/N; who knows how he would have convinced Charles without her.

"What do we have to do?"

~ When Logan wakes up, he's disoriented. The last thing he remembers he was being in the river, a rebar stuck through him and his brain shutting down from lack of oxygen. He can hear people outside his room, but what gets him to actually leave is the laugh that rings out through the hallway.

He sees her as soon as he opens his door, her smiling brighter than the sun. His heart pounds as he wonders if they're together - they didn't exactly get together in 1973, but she had helped him and believed in him when literally no one else had.

"Hey, baby," Y/N says when she catches his eyes, and he can't help the sound that escapes him. Her eyebrows raise as she realizes something is different. "What's going on?" She asks, leaving the group of people - mutants, kids, that had died, but are now here.

"Am I dead?" He asks, head reeling. She tilted her head with a small smile.

"What?" She asks, grabbing onto his arms gently. He doesn't have the same self control, however, and pulls her in. She sighs, and seems to understand. "You just got back."

"I thought I lost you." He admits, pulling back. "I at least thought we weren't going to be together." It's a hard thing for him to say out loud, but she just pulls him in for a kiss.

"James," She whispers as they pull apart, and he feels like no one has called him that in so long. She is the only one who is allowed to, the only one who won't get their throat ripped out for even thinking of uttering his real name. "There is nothing you could do to keep me away." She kisses him softly again, and he tries not to let the tears fall.

"I love you." He tells her, resting his forehead against hers.

"I love you too." She responds, giving one last peck before pulling back. "Now, I'm sure a lot has changed, so how about I catch you up on the last fifty years as we take a walk." She grabs his hand, and Logan swears he's never been happier.

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler

[awkward-walking-potato]

Heyo! I love how you write stories with Logan with animals because they’re so beautiful!! I was wondering if you’d write another one please? The reader is a shy mutant with nature powers (grow all kinds of flora, manipulate the elements, live harmonious with any kind of animal), she’s basically like Mother Nature. She has a big secret place where she often goes to. She created it to keep all kind of creatures save from humans and mutants, especially exotic ones, and are very dear to her. He tried to follow her once, but others cannot find the place except for her or if she allows them in. One day, she wants to show it to him and have him meet her family and one of her oldest family members, a gigantic dragon. The dragon is quite intelligent and doesn’t seem impressed nor does he seem to like Logan and constantly tries to kindly kill him/play pranks on him whenever she’s not looking (e.g. pushing him into a pool of mud, taking up all her attention for him, etc.). You can also add Wade to the story if you want to. Thank you so so much and hope you’ve a beautiful day!! 💙

The hidden Sanctuary

Wolverine had always been a lone wolf. Even as part of the X-Men, he kept to himself, preferred the company of silence, and embraced the solace of solitude. But there was something about Y/N that intrigued him. Maybe it was her shyness or the way she melted into the background, rarely speaking unless spoken to, or perhaps it was the powerful, almost mystical energy that seemed to ripple off her in waves whenever she was around nature. Whatever it was, Logan found himself drawn to her in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Y/N was a mutant with powers unlike any he’d seen before. She could grow entire forests with a wave of her hand, manipulate the elements like it was second nature, and animals of all kinds flocked to her as if she were Mother Nature herself. Logan had seen her turn a desolate wasteland into a thriving ecosystem in seconds, and yet, she remained so modest about her abilities.

He had tried to follow her once when she snuck out of the mansion, curious as to where she went when she thought no one was watching. But no matter how closely he trailed her, she always managed to lose him, disappearing into the forest like a whisper on the wind.

Eventually, he let it go. If she wanted to keep her secrets, he wouldn’t pry… too much. But the more time they spent together, the more Logan found himself wanting to know everything about her. He wanted to protect her, keep her safe, and though he’d never admit it out loud, he wanted her to trust him enough to let him in.

One evening, as they sat on the mansion’s roof, watching the sunset, she turned to him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of anxiety and excitement. “Logan, I… I want to show you something. It’s important to me, but you have to promise not to tell anyone about it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, surprised by her sudden openness. “You know you can trust me, darlin’. I won’t say a word.”

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Okay… follow me.”

The journey was long and winding. They traveled deep into the forest, far from the mansion and any sign of civilization. The trees grew denser, the air richer with the scent of pine and earth. Logan stayed close, his senses on high alert, but Y/N moved with a confidence that made him feel oddly at ease.

After what felt like hours, she stopped in front of a large, ancient tree with sprawling roots. She placed a hand on the bark and whispered something he couldn’t make out. To Logan’s astonishment, the tree seemed to shimmer before it slowly began to part, revealing a hidden pathway bathed in golden light.

“This way,” she said softly, taking his hand and leading him through the opening.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as they stepped into a paradise beyond imagination. It was a hidden sanctuary, a place untouched by the modern world. Lush, vibrant plants of every color covered the ground, towering trees stretched high into the sky, their branches heavy with fruit, and a crystal-clear waterfall cascaded into a sparkling pool surrounded by delicate flowers.

Exotic creatures roamed freely, some so rare that Logan had only heard about them in legends. There were unicorns grazing by the water’s edge, phoenixes perched in the trees, and even a small family of griffins playfully wrestling in the distance.

“This… this is incredible,” Logan breathed, his voice laced with awe.

Y/N smiled shyly, a blush coloring her cheeks. “This is my sanctuary, a place where all creatures, mutant or otherwise, can live in peace. I’ve spent years creating and protecting it. It’s… it’s my home.”

As they walked deeper into the sanctuary, Logan couldn’t help but notice the way the animals greeted Y/N as if she were their queen. She interacted with them lovingly, whispering words of comfort, stroking their fur, and laughing when they nuzzled her affectionately.

But then, they reached a clearing, and Logan’s senses immediately went on high alert. A massive shadow passed overhead, and he looked up just in time to see a gigantic dragon circling above them, its scales shimmering in the sunlight.

The dragon landed with a thud, the ground shaking beneath its weight. It was an ancient, majestic creature with eyes that glowed like molten gold, and it was staring directly at Logan.

“Logan, this is Drakon. He’s one of my oldest friends,” Y/N said, her voice filled with affection as she approached the dragon without a hint of fear. “He’s been protecting this place for centuries.”

Logan nodded, trying to keep his cool, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that Drakon was sizing him up, and not in a friendly way.

“Nice to meet you,” Logan said gruffly, extending a hand. The dragon huffed, a plume of smoke curling from its nostrils, clearly unimpressed.

Y/N laughed, completely oblivious to the tension. “He’s just being protective. Drakon, Logan is my friend. You can trust him.”

The dragon narrowed its eyes, but finally gave a reluctant nod. Still, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that the dragon didn’t like him very much.

Over the next few hours, Y/N showed Logan around the sanctuary, introducing him to all the creatures and explaining how she had come to find and protect them. Logan listened intently, more captivated by her passion and love for this place than the creatures themselves.

But every time Y/N turned her back, Drakon would make his displeasure known. The dragon would nudge Logan toward a pool of mud, causing him to stumble and fall face-first into the muck, or he’d suddenly swoop down to land between Logan and Y/N, cutting him off and demanding all of her attention.

At one point, Drakon even “accidentally” knocked Logan off a ledge into a thorny bush, earning a surprised laugh from Y/N when she turned around to see Logan tangled in the branches.

“You alright, Logan?” she asked, rushing over to help him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Logan grumbled, glaring up at the dragon, who looked away innocently, a satisfied smirk in its golden eyes.

Logan wasn’t easily intimidated, but this dragon was really starting to get on his nerves.

As the sun began to set, Y/N and Logan sat by the edge of the pool, watching the sky turn shades of pink and orange. Drakon rested nearby, keeping a watchful eye on Logan, though he pretended to be dozing.

“I’m glad you brought me here, Y/N,” Logan said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “This place… it’s a part of you. I can see why you wanted to protect it.”

She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’ve wanted to show you for a while now. I trust you, Logan. I know you’d never hurt this place or the creatures here.”

Logan felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. “I wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’. I’ll protect it just like you do.”

They sat in contented silence for a few more moments, but then a voice broke through the peaceful atmosphere.

“Hey, lovebirds! Mind if I join the cuddle fest?”

Logan groaned as Deadpool suddenly appeared from behind a tree, his red and black suit standing out starkly against the natural beauty of the sanctuary.

“What the hell are you doing here, Wade?” Logan growled, his patience wearing thin.

“Oh, you know, just following you guys. Figured you’d need a chaperone. And what do I find? A magical Disney wonderland! Seriously, you guys have been holding out on me!” Deadpool exclaimed, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the sanctuary.

Before Logan could retort, Drakon let out a deep growl, his eyes narrowing at Deadpool. “Oh, big guy, relax! I’m just here for the hugs and maybe to steal a unicorn for my apartment.”

The dragon let out a jet of flame that narrowly missed Deadpool’s head, causing him to dive for cover behind a boulder. “Yikes! Tough crowd! Guess I’ll stick to pestering Wolverine.”

Logan sighed, rubbing his temples. “Y/N, I think we’ve got enough trouble with the dragon. We don’t need him making it worse.”

Y/N giggled, watching as Drakon continued to eye Deadpool suspiciously. “I think Drakon likes you more than Wade, at least.”

Logan let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, well, I’ll take what I can get.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sanctuary glowing in the soft light of twilight, Logan realized that, despite the dragon’s antics and Deadpool’s unwelcome appearance, he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Here, in this hidden sanctuary, with Y/N by his side, he felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known in a long time.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to get along with that damn dragon too… as long as it stopped trying to push him into the mud.

As Logan and Y/N prepared to leave the sanctuary, Wadw trailed behind them, trying to coax a reluctant phoenix into his backpack. Drakon, still suspicious, hovered nearby, ready to intervene if necessary.

“Come on, little birdie, you know you want to—ow! Okay, okay, no stealing the mystical creatures,” Deadpool muttered, nursing a singed hand.

[bellaireland1981]

Babymoon

Summary: You and your husband take a quick beach vacation before becoming a family of three.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female! Reader

Warnings: Illusions to smut, heavy making out, pregnancy, fluff, Jake being adorable. UNDER 18 DNI

Word Count: 2231 (look at me keeping it quick!)

A/N: Written for @thedroneranger 's Pick Your Poison writing challenge. Inspiration for the fic was Sex on the Beach As always, I do not own the Top Gun Maverick characters but all OCs and Reader insert concepts are my own and storylines are mine. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied, reposted to other sites, used in AI generators and sold on any platforms.

Masterlist

“Angel, are you sure you’re not overdoing it?” Jake asked as the two of you made your way down to the beach from your hotel room. “We can relax in the room for a bit or sit by the pool if that’s better…”

At 7 months pregnant, you were getting close to the point of no travel and Jake had surprised you with a last minute “babymoon” down to Mexico. He wanted the two of you to have one last opportunity to be spontaneous and fly off for a romantic getaway before you become parents. 

“Jake, I love you, Stud…” You said, looking up at your husband, a coy smile on your face, “I promise I’m not overdoing it. I just really want some time on the beach with my sexy husband and baby daddy…maybe some sexy time on the beach with my husband.”

“You’re a menace, Angel.” He chuckled, pausing your walk to the beach to steal a quick kiss. “But anything for my sexy pregnant wife” kissing you again, “Beautiful mother of our daughter.”

“Our daughter is going to have her daddy wrapped around her tiny little finger.” You smirked, as you continued toward the beach. 

“Just like her Momma.” He replied, chuckling. “Wouldn’t want it any other way, Angel.” 

He led you to a cabana area he’d rented for you for the day. There were beach loungers set up in front, where you could lay in the sun and soak up the warm rays, but there were also loungers in the cabana to allow you to lay down out of the sun and rest without having to leave the beach. It came complete with full food and drink service from the resort. Your amazing and perfect husband had thought of everything. 

“Before you get all comfortable out there, darlin’ you need sunscreen.” Jake reminded you. 

“Are you worried about me burning…or do you just want a reason to rub your hands all over me in public without the threat of getting arrested?” You teased him. 

“A little of both.” He admitted with a smirk, “I’ll always take any excuse to get my hands on my wife, Angel, you know that… it’s why you’re currently pregnant.”

“Does this mean I’ll be spending a lot of time pregnant over the next five to ten years of our marriage?” You laughed.

“I will happily give you as many babies as you want Angel.” He said, pulling you close, one hand naturally finding its home on your swollen belly, the other behind your head, tilting your head back before capturing your lips in a tender kiss. 

“Let’s see how things go with our daughter first.” You suggested, “So far, she’s a handful just like her daddy.”

“The morning sickness finally eased up.” He reasoned, “And after several talks recently, she’s no longer using your bladder as a punching bag.”

“True.” You acknowledged, “Now she’s using my kidneys and rib cage for soccer practice and I swear she takes joy in giving me major heartburn.”

“I’ll have another talk with her.” He smiled, “But you’re not fooling me. I see you when you don’t think anyone is watching… or listening. You’re loving every moment, kidney shots and all.”

“I really am.” You sighed happily, rubbing your hand over your belly where your daughter was safely growing and developing. “I can’t even describe the feeling… knowing a part of you and a part of me…growing inside me. Getting to feel her move and being this close to her… knowing that once she’s born, I’ll never be this close to her again… I’ll have to share her, I’ll no longer be able to protect her from the world… It’s an incredible thing.”

“It’s pretty damn amazing from this side of things too, Angel.” He said gently, his hand joining yours on top of your belly, “Watching our little girl grow inside of you, knowing I helped put her there… seeing you literally grow a human, OUR human… protecting her, nourishing her, loving her… it about brings me to my knees. You’re already the most amazing momma in the world, Angel. Our little princess is so lucky she gets to have you as her momma. As for protecting her once she’s on the outside… I have zero doubts you’ll be fierce and badass at that. I’ve seen you in action protecting those you love. She’ll have us, and a squad full of uncles and aunts to keep her safe. Our little girl will be just fine.”

“You’re gonna make me cry.” You sniffled, tears threatening to spill over. “Not like it’s hard to do… it’s kinda low hanging fruit.”

“You said it, Angel.” He laughed, “But you’re adorable when you’re all emotional.” 

“I love you, Stud.” You said,  snuggling into your husband.

“I love you too, Angel.” He replied, holding you close. 

After a moment, once the emotions had calmed down you pulled back a bit, “Can you put sunscreen on me now?”

“Absolutely,” He agreed, grinning, “Let me grab the bottle. Sit down on the lounger and I’ll get you all sorted.”

The two of you spent time laying in the sun, you reading a steamy romance novel, Jake reading an updated manual for new equipment to his jet. 

“You know, My Love,” You teased him, “We’re on vacation, you shouldn’t be working.”

“I enjoy learning about my jet, Angel.” He defended himself, “Besides, wouldn’t you rather I know everything there is to know about it so I can be extra safe?”

“You already know that jet down to the last screw.” You laughed, “And I love that you’re thorough, Babe… it makes it a little easier to send you off on missions and deployments because you tackle those the same as your jet and you learn every detail given to you. I love that about you.”

“I will always do everything in my power and control to come home to you and our little girl.” He promised. 

“I know.” You smiled, “And I know that you have amazing squadmates who have your back.”

“They’re alright.” He laughed playfully. Truth was, you knew he loved all of the Daggers and would do anything for them. He’d already been best friends with Javy coming into the Uranium mission that had formed the Daggers, but afterwards he and Bradley had formed an unbreakable bond and a strong friendship. Bradley had even asked Jake to be his best man in his wedding the month before.  “Feel like getting in the water?”

“I could cool off.” You replied, “Going to need help getting up though.”

He set his manual down under his towel so it wouldn’t blow away and reached for your book so he could set it next to his before reaching out to lift you up. You swayed slightly into him, the change in position causing you to feel slightly lightheaded. 

“Easy does it, Angel.” He said, “Are you ok? Do you need to go inside to rest for a bit?”

“No, I’m ok.” You replied, “I just stood too fast. Let’s go into the water, then we can cuddle in the cabana for a bit.”

“Cuddle?” You asked, smirking.

“Behave.” He chuckled, playfully swatting your butt. 

You laughed, taking his hand and the two of you walked to the water. There were some waves but the surf wasn’t overly active. Jake still made sure to keep you close and his hands on you at all times while you were both in the water. You waded out until you were mostly past the break, the water to your chest, but barely above Jake’s belly. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in as close as possible with your very pregnant belly between you. 

You leaned up on your tiptoes, your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you could kiss him. You didn’t hesitate to swipe your tongue over the seam of his lips, seeking entrance into his mouth. His own tongue came out to meet yours, the kiss deepening. He let his hands wander down to your butt, rubbing over your bikini clad cheeks. 

“What are your thoughts on sex on the beach, Angel?” Jake asked, his head dipping down to kiss over your neck and shoulder. 

“Oh my God.. I MISS those amazing little cocktails.” You sighed, “Penny makes the BEST Sex on the Beaches.”

“Angel, I was talking about literal sex on the beach.” He groaned, still trailing kisses over your collarbone, tasting the salt from the ocean water. 

“Pretty sure THAT is how I ended up pregnant, Stud.” You teased him.

“The night after the bonfire?” He asked, lifting his head to look at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “Seriously?”

“The timing is perfect.” You shrugged, “Lord knows I DRANK enough of those sneaky little cocktails that night…”

“I remember.” He said, his voice going husky, dropping deeper, “You suggested we do an experiment to see if actual sex on the beach was as good as the drink.” 

“Well, it looks like it exceeded expectations.” You giggled, pulling his head down to kiss him.

“So, how about round two?” He asked, his hands wandering back down to your butt. 

“I’m way too pregnant to end up with sand in unfortunate places, so how about sex in a cabana?” You compromised, smirking. 

“I think it’s time to head back to shore, Angel.” He replied, scooping you up bridal style and carrying you in towards the shore. 

“Jake!” You squealed, “Put me down! I am way too heavy!” 

“Angel, I can handle carrying my girls just fine.” He promised, “I would never let anything happen to either of you.”

“Such a softy.” You said, letting your fingers run over the wet hair at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t let that get out.” He teased, “I have a reputation to uphold.” 

“The gig is up, Babe.” You laughed, “Everyone knows you’re not really an asshole. As soon as they saw you with Ruben’s kids it was all over.”

He carried you out of the water and over the sand back to the cabana before setting you back on your feet. It had shades that could be pulled down for privacy and to block out more sun, which Jake took advantage of as soon as you got inside the cabana. There was a large sun lounger that looked more like a bed, in the middle of the cabana with small tables set up on each side. With the shades pulled on the sides and the light weight material used as a curtain in the front of the cabana let down, it gave you a little privacy from prying eyes of other resort guests. It was at least a private beach, only open to those staying at the resort. 

“This might have been easier before we were all wet.” You said, winding your arms around his neck as he came back to stand in front of you. “Now our suits are all clingy”

“Hmmm,” He hummed, leaning down to nibble at your jawline before working back towards your ear, whispering “I prefer my wife to be wet and clingy.” 

A shiver ran through your whole body, arousal flooding your system, soaking your already wet bikini bottoms.

“Jake” You moaned, trying to push up against him, as much as your very pregnant belly would allow, “I need you to fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command, Angel.” He replied, guiding you back towards the lounger. He untied your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor of the cabana, making sure to block you from view of the outside world. “Fuck, I love your boobs.”

“Thought you were an ass man, Stud.” You smirked, knowing that your husband had been infatuated with your boobs since you’d become pregnant. They had increased two cup sizes by this point in your pregnancy, and you were told they’d get even bigger once you were breastfeeding your daughter. Jake was intrigued by it. 

“When it comes to you, Angel there’s not a part of your body that doesn’t get me going.” He admitted, flashing his dimpled smile. He helped you to lay down on the lounger. He made sure you were propped up on the many decorative pillows and comfortable, leaning in for a quick kiss, before running his hands down over you, pausing to rest his hands on and gently kiss your bump, before continuing down, pulling your bikini bottoms off on his way.

The look of pure lust and adoration on your husband’s face was enough to give you confidence in your own body and not give in to the negative thoughts that tried to permeate your brain when you looked in the mirror. Your OB said it was normal as your body was rapidly changing, to have the negative feelings or insecurities but reminded you to be kind to yourself and if the thoughts became too intrusive to let her know so she could set you up with someone to talk to. Jake had been at that appointment and had made it his mission afterwards to make sure he knew how absolutely beautiful he found you and how incredible it was that you were growing an entire human. 

“I think you’re overdressed.” You smiled, allowing your eyes to hungrily track over his sun kissed body. “And I believe I was promised Sex on the Beach.”

A/N: There it is! My second ever Jake fic! What do you think??

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[d4yl1ghts]

After I read unfair i thought you could make a “second part” as to where reader takes Anthony to her old house to show him where she lived and what she used to do throughout her days 

unfair (2)

anthony bridgerton x wife, fem!reader

summary: you take anthony to the house you grew up in and he sees how those who aren’t so wealthy live

part 1

-

Specks of yellow and gold breached into you and your husband’s shared bedroom as you slowly awoke from your slumber. Anthony felt you moving and brought you closer to him, snuggling into you. “Stay.”, he spoke with his morning voice, you always loved that voice. He sounded much deeper than usual. “I have to visit my mother, Tony.”, you replied, attempting to ignore the feeling of his rough hands around your waist. “I do not want you to leave me.”, he responded. You rolled you eyes with amusement. “Fine, you can come with me then.”

The eldest Bridgerton then hastily removed the sheets from his naked body and started to pick out his clothes for the day. You stared at him for a second before picking out yours too. “Do you like what you see?”, he questioned teasingly with a smirk on his face. “Of course, my Lord.”, you answered with a hint of cheek in your tone. “We must get ready, my love. You can look forward to that later.”, he winked.

The both of you had finally gotten changed and had begun the ride in your carriage. You gazed at Anthony’s perfect face, sensing his nerves. He has met your mother before of course, but he has never gone to your old house and he has heard many things about it due to your background. You were from a poorer family so he didn’t know what to expect. You gently grabbed his calloused hands gaining his attention. “What is wrong, my love?”, you cautiously asked. “I do not know if I even want to see this place you grew up in if it is so bad.”, he answered with pity in his voice. “It is not as bad as you may think. I managed to live there and look at where I am now.”

“Yes, I must be overthinking it.”, he added, placing a chaste kiss against your temple.

After an hour in your carriage you had reached the edge of London. The carriage halted suddenly. “We are here.”, you stated. Anthony, ever the gentleman, ran out of the carriage and took your hand, placed his lips on it, and guided you out of the vehicle. “You do not even know where you are going.”, you giggled slightly at Anthony’s charming nature.

You knocked on the door three times before your mother answered. “Oh, hello, dearest.”, she replied cheerfully. Anthony peeked his head in and saw how small the house was. There was a tiny kitchen with barely enough space for all the appliances and there was no maids anywhere to be seen. He could see a bit of the upstairs and make out that there were only two rooms up there. “After you.”, he said gently as your mother opened the door wider to allow you both in.

“So, are there any maids here, Lady Y/L/N?”, he hesitantly enquired, he had already assumed the answer. “Ah, no, my Lord.”, the older woman responded. “We do the work ourselves here.”, she added. “Oh.”, he awkwardly rocked on his heels. “Come on, my love.”, you grabbed his hand and guided him into the living room that had one sofa. It also looked slightly dusty. That was probably because there were no maids, he thought.

After an hour of talking and catching up with tea, you and Anthony started the journey back to your manor. “My love, you look a bit out of it.”, you stated as you took in his widened eyes that were staring out the window of the carriage. “Dear, I’m fine.”, he said. He paused, then added: “How did you grow up there?”

“It was alright, I had shelter and was provided food and water.”, you answered. “Well, I love you so much and I’m so proud of you.”, he tenderly replied. You stared at the man in awe of how you had gotten so lucky before you kissed him with such passion that he was left speechless. Let’s just say that you didn’t make it back on time and you got your treat earlier than you expected.