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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 days ago

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Happy Public Domain Day 2025 to all who celebrate

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/17/dastar-dly-deeds/#roast-in-piss-sonny-bono

In 1976, Congress set fire to the country's libraries; in 1998, they did it again. Today, in 2024, the flames have died down, and out of the ashes a new public domain is growing. Happy Public Domain Day 2025 to all who celebrate!

For most of US history, copyright was something you had to ask for. To copyright a work, you'd send a copy to the Library of Congress and they'd issue you a copyright. Not only did that let you display a copyright mark on your work – so people would know they weren't allowed to copy it without your permission – but if anyone wanted to figure out who to ask in order to get permission to copy or adapt a work, they could just go look up the paperwork at the LoC.

In 1976, Congress amended the Copyright Act to eliminate the "formality" of copyright registration. Now, all creative works of human authorship were copyrighted "at the moment of fixation" – the instant you drew, typed, wrote, filmed, or recorded them. From a toddler's nursery-school finger-painting to a graffiti mural on a subway car, every creative act suddenly became an article of property.

But whose property? That was on you to figure out, before you could copy, publish, perform, or preserve the work, because without registration, permissions had to start with a scavenger hunt for the person who could grant it. Congress simultaneously enacted a massive expansion of property rights, while abolishing the title registry that spelled out who owned what. As though this wasn't enough, Congress reached back in time and plopped an extra 20 years' onto the copyrights of existing works, even ones whose authors were unknown and unlocatable.

For the next 20 years, creative workers, archivists, educators and fans struggled in the face of this regime of unknowable property rights. After decades of well-documented problems, Congress acted again: they made it worse.

In 1998, Congress passed the Sonny Bono Copyright Act, AKA the Mickey Mouse Preservation Act, AKA the Copyright Term Extension Act. The 1998 Act tacked another 20 years onto copyright terms, but not just for works that were still in copyright. At the insistence of Disney, Congress actually yanked works out of the public domain – works that had been anthologized, adapted and re-issued – and put them back into copyright for two more decades. Copyright stretched to the century-plus "life plus 70 years" term. Nothing entered the public domain for the next 20 years.

So many of my comrades in the fight for the public domain were certain that this would happen again in 2018. In 2010, e-book inventor and Project Gutenberg founder Michael S Hart and I got into a friendly email argument because he was positive that in 2018, Congress would set fire to the public domain again. When I insisted that there was no way this could happen given the public bitterness over the 1998 Act, he told me I was being naive, but said he hoped that I was right.

Michael didn't live to see it, but in 2019, the public domain opened again. It was an incredible day:

https://archive.org/details/ClosingKeynoteForGrandReopeningOfThePublicDomainCoryDoctorowAtInternetArchive

No one has done a better job of chronicling the fortunes of our fragile, beautiful, bounteous public domain than Jennifer Jenkins and James Boyle of Duke University's Center for the Study of the Public Domain. Every year from 2010-2019, Boyle and Jenkins chronicled the works that weren't entering the public domain because of the 1998 Act, making sure we knew what had been stolen from our cultural commons. In so many cases, these works disappeared before their copyrights expired, for example, the majority of silent films are lost forever.

Then, in 2019, Jenkins and Boyle got to start cataloging the works that were entering the public domain, most of them from 1923 (copyright is complicated, so not everything that entered the public domain in 2019 was from that year):

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/publicdomainday/2019/

Every year since, they've celebrated a new bumper crop. Last year, we got Mickey Mouse!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/15/mouse-liberation-front/#free-mickey

In addition to numerous other works – by Woolf, Hemingway, Doyle, Christie, Proust, Hesse, Milne, DuBois, Frost, Chaplin, Escher, and more:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/20/em-oh-you-ess-ee/#sexytimes

Now, 2024 was a fantastic year for the public domain, but – as you'll see in the 2025 edition of the Public Domain Day post – 2025 is even better:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/publicdomainday/2025/

So what's entering the public domain this year? Well, for one thing, there's more of the stuff from last year, which makes sense: if Hemingway's first books entered the PD last year, then this year, we'll the books he wrote next (and this will continue every year until we catch up with Hemingway's tragic death).

There are some big hits from our returning champions, like Woolf's To the Lighthouse and A Farewell to Arms from Hemingway. Jenkins and Boyle call particular attention to one book: Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury, its title taken from a public domain work by Shakespeare. As they write, Faulkner spoke eloquently about the nature of posterity and culture:

[Humanity] is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance…The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.

The main attraction on last year's Public Domain Day was the entry of Steamboat Willie – the first Mickey Mouse cartoon – into the public domain. This year, we're getting a dozen new Mickey cartoons, including the first Mickey talkie:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mickey_Mouse_(film_series)#1929

Those 12 shorts represent a kind of creative explosion for the Disney Studios. Those early Mickey cartoons were, each and every one, a hybrid of new copyrighted works and the public domain. The backbone of each Mickey short was a beloved, public domain song, with Mickey's motion synched to the beat (animators came to call this "mickey mousing"). In 1929, there was a huge crop of public domain music that anyone could use this way:

Blue Danube, Pop Goes the Weasel, Yankee Doodle, Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush, Ach Du Lieber Augustin, Listen to the Mocking Bird, A-Hunting We Will Go, Dixie, The Girl I Left Behind Me, a tune known as the snake charmer song, Coming Thru the Rye, Mary Had a Little Lamb, Auld Lang Syne, Aloha ‘Oe, Turkey in the Straw, My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean, Habanera and Toreador Song from Carmen, Lizst’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2, and Goodnight, Ladies.

These were recent compositions, songs that were written and popularized in the lifetimes of the parents and grandparents who took their kids to the movies to see Mickey shorts like "The Barn Dance," "The Opry House" and "The Jazz Fool." The ability to plunder this music at will was key to the success of Mickey Mouse and Disney. Think of all the Mickeys and Disneys we've lost by locking up the public domain for the past half-century!

This year, we're getting some outstanding new old music for our public domain. The complexities of copyright terms mean that compositions from 1929 are entering the public domain, but we're only getting recordings from 1924. 1924's outstanding recordings include:

George Gershwin performing Rhapsody in Blue, Jelly Roll Morton playing Shreveport Stomp, and an early recording from contralto and civil rights icon Marian Anderson, who is famous for her 1939 performance to an integrated audience of over 75,000 people at the Lincoln Memorial. Anderson’s 1924 recording is of the spiritual Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen.

While the compositions include Singin' in the Rain, Ain't Misbehavin', An American in Paris, Bolero, (What Did I Do to Be So) Black and Blue, Tiptoe Through the Tulips, Happy Days Are Here Again, What Is This Thing Called, Love?, Am I Blue? and many, many more.

On the art front, we're getting Salvador Dali's earliest surrealist masterpieces, like Illumined Pleasures, The Accommodations of Desire, and The Great Masturbator. Dali's contemporaries are not so lucky: after a century, the early history of the works of Magritte are so muddy that it's impossible to say whether they are in or out of copyright.

But there's plenty of art with clearer provenance that we can welcome into the public domain this year, most notably, Popeye and Tintin. As the first Popeye and Tintin comics go PD, so too do those characters.

The idea that a fictional character can have a copyright separate from the stories they appear in is relatively new, and it's weird and very stupid. Courts have found that the Batmobile is a copyrightable character (Batman won't enter the public domain until 2035).

Copyright for characters is such a muddy, gross, weird idea. The clearest example of how stupid this gets comes from Sherlock Holmes, whose canon spans many years. The Doyle estate – a rent-seeking copyright troll – claimed that Holmes wouldn't enter the public domain until every Holmes story was in the public domain (that's this year, incidentally!).

This didn't fly, so their next gambit was to claim copyright over those aspects of Holmes's character that were developed later in the stories. For example, they claimed that Holmes didn't show compassion until the later stories, and, on that basis, sued the creators of the Enola Holmes TV show for depicting a gender-swapped Sherlock who wasn't a total dick:

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2020/dec/22/lawsuit-copyright-warmer-sherlock-holmes-dismissed-enola-holmes

As the Enola lawyers pointed out in their briefs, this was tantamount to a copyright over emotions: "Copyright law does not allow the ownership of generic concepts like warmth, kindness, empathy, or respect, even as expressed by a public domain character – which, of course, belongs to the public, not plaintiff."

When Mickey entered the public domain last year, Jenkins did an excellent deep dive into which aspects of Mickey's character and design emerged when:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/mickey/

Jenkins uses this year's entry of Tintin and Popeye into the public domain to further explore the subject of proprietary characters.

Even though copyright extends to characters, it only covers the "copyrightable" parts of those characters. As the Enola lawyers wrote, the generic character traits (their age, emotional vibe, etc) are not protected. Neither is anything "trivial" or "minuscule" – for example, if a cartoonist makes a minor alteration to the way a character's pupils or eyes are drawn, that's a minor detail, not a copyrightable element.

The biggest impediment to using public domain characters isn't copyright, it's trademark. Trademark is very different from copyright: foundationally, trademark is the right to protect your customers from being deceived by your competitors. Coke can use trademark to stop Pepsi from selling its sugary drinks in Coke cans – not because it owns the word "Coke" or the Coke logo, but because it has been deputized to protect Coke drinkers from being tricked into buying not-Coke, thinking that they're getting the true Black Waters of American Imperialism.

Companies claim trademarks over cartoon characters all the time, and license those trademarks on food, clothing, toys, and more (remember Popeye candy cigarettes?).

Indeed, Hearst Holdings claims a trademark over Popeye in many traditional categories, like cartoons, amusement parks, ads and clothes. They're also in the midst of applying for a Popeye NFT trademark (lol).

Does that mean you can't use Popeye in any of those ways? Nope! All you need to do is prominently mention that your use of Popeye is unofficial, not associated with Hearst, and dispel any chance of confusion. A unanimous Supreme Court decision (in Dastar) affirm your right to do so. You can also use Popeye in the title of your unauthorized Popeye comic, thanks to a case called Rogers v Grimaldi.

This all applies to Tintin, too – a big deal, given that Tintin is managed by a notorious copyright bully who delights in cruelly terrorizing fan artists. Tintin is joined in the public domain by Buck Rogers, another old-timey character whose owners are scumbag rent-seekers.

Congress buried the public domain alive in 1976, and dumped a load of gravel over its grave in 1998, but miraculously, we've managed to exhume the PD, and it has been revived and is showing signs of rude health.

2024 saw the blockbuster film adaptation of Wicked, based on the public domain Oz books. It also saw the publication of James, a celebrated retelling of Twain's Huck Finn from the perspective of Huck's enslaved sidekick.

This is completely normal. It's how art was made since time immemorial. The 40 year experiment in life without a public domain is at an end, and not a minute too soon.

You can piece together a complete-as-possible list of 2025's public domain (including the Marx Brothers' Cocoanuts, Disney's Skeleton Dance, and Del Ruth's Gold Diggers of Broadway) here:

https://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/cce/

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niennanir · 1 year ago

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Listen to your elders

So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.

So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.

But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?

In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.

Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download

Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title:

No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.

Now you’re going to need some materials: 8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife

You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.

Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:

use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.

Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.

Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.

You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.

Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour

In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock

Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)

Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.

Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine

Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.

Voila:

I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.

The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.

If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders.

#fanbinding #fanfiction #Nir paperback

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vunblr · 6 days ago

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The Recipe for Us

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: Bucky sets out to surprise his girlfriend with a simple yet meaningful gesture, but quickly learns that some things are easier said than done.

Word Count: about 9k.

notes: Second Christmas story for the Roots and Branches AU

The hot water streamed over Bucky’s shoulders, washing away the day’s grime and easing the tightness in his muscles. Sawdust and sweat swirled down the drain in pale rivulets, a tangible reminder of the hours spent at Sam’s workshop. He reached for the long-handled loofah hanging on the wall, pausing for a moment as a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Seven months ago, he’d never have imagined himself using something like this. Hell, he hadn’t even known such a thing existed. But she’d gifted it to him after he’d grumbled too many times about sawdust getting into places it had no business being. “Just try it,” she’d insisted, eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and determination. “It’ll make your life easier, I promise.”

At first, he’d been reluctant, because why did he need a fancy shower tool? But now, as he scrubbed his back with the bristled brush, he had to admit that he couldn’t shower without the damn thing. It worked like a charm, reaching spots his stiff shoulders couldn’t. Another one of her small but thoughtful gestures that made his life just a little better, a little easier.

That thought lingered as he rinsed off, the scent of pine-scented soap filling the steamy bathroom. Christmas was coming up fast, and he hadn’t figured out what to get her yet. She was always cooking for him, spoiling him with meals that somehow tasted even better because she’d made them. Maybe it was his turn to return the favor.

His brow furrowed as he stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and scrubbing it over his damp hair. Cookies, he thought, wrapping the towel around his waist. How hard could that be?

The bell above the library door gave a soft jingle as Bucky stepped inside, shaking off the chill of the late morning air. The faint scent of old books and polished wood greeted him, a familiar comfort. He adjusted his jacket, glancing around until he spotted Martha at the front desk.

The elderly librarian looked up from her paperwork, her face breaking into a warm smile. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite mystery man,” she said, setting her pen aside. “You’re just in time, I was about to set aside a copy of All the Colors of the Dark for you. Brand-new, hot off the presses.”

Bucky cleared his throat, his fingers brushing the edge of the counter. “Not today,” he muttered. “I, uh, need something else.”

Martha tilted her head, eyebrows rising in surprise. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Cooking books.”

There was a beat of silence before her expression shifted, amusement crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Cooking books? My, my, that’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming.”

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, suddenly regretting his decision. “Yeah, well… I just need something simple.”

Martha leaned forward slightly, curiosity sparking in her gaze. “Simple, huh? Expanding your repertoire, are you?”

“Not exactly.” His hand tugged at his jacket zipper, his eyes fixed on a spot just past her shoulder. “It’s for… someone. A gift.”

Martha chuckled, her gaze warm and knowing. “A gift, huh? Have you already decided what you’re making, or are you here to brainstorm?”

Bucky hesitated, his ears tinged pink. “Cookies,” he admitted finally.

Her face lit up, and she clasped her hands together. “You’re an absolute sweetheart, you know that? She’s lucky to have someone as thoughtful as you.”

He fumbled again with his jacket, the zipper slipping through his fingers as he looked anywhere but at her. “Thanks,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t worry,” she said kindly, moving to the shelves. “I’ve got just the thing for you. A beginner’s guide, easy recipes, step-by-step instructions. You’ll do great.”

As she handed him the book, Bucky accepted it with a quiet nod, clutching it like it was a secret dossier. “Appreciate it,” he said gruffly before turning toward the door, his heart thudding a little too fast as he stepped out into the crisp afternoon.

Sitting in his truck, he flipped through the pages of the brightly colored cookbook, furrowing his brow as he skimmed the recipes. The instructions seemed straightforward enough, at least none of them required anything he couldn’t pronounce. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he realized he had just enough time to swing by the general store before heading back to the workshop.

The bell above the store’s door jingled as he stepped inside, the warm air carrying the faint scent of cinnamon and pine. He grabbed a basket and made his way through the aisles, collecting the essentials: flour, baking soda, vanilla essence, and a few other things he didn’t recognize but trusted the book’s guidance on.

As he reached the seasonal display near the front, he paused in front of a rack of Christmas-themed cookie cutters. There were stars, trees, and even a set of reindeer shapes. He frowned, holding up two options and debating which would look more impressive.

He was still deliberating when the familiar sound of the doorbell chiming caught his attention. His stomach flipped as he saw Y/n walking in, her coat and hair dusted with snowflakes.

Panic shot through his brain. Without a second thought, he shoved both sets of cookie cutters to the bottom of his basket, quickly covering them with the flour and sugar. He angled himself away from the entrance, his heart pounding as if he’d been caught committing a crime.

He took a steadying breath and glanced at his basket. The cutters were well-hidden, but now he was hyper-aware of the faint clinking of metal every time he moved. Muttering to himself, he steeled his nerves and started toward the checkout, keeping his head low and his focus on not drawing her attention.

And that might have worked if Bucky’s frame didn’t stand out so much. The low shelves did little to hide him, and before he could edge toward the checkout, her gaze landed squarely on him.

Her face lit up with that familiar, heart-stopping smile, and she made a beeline straight for him. He froze, gripping the handle of his basket like it might somehow shield him.

“Hi honey,” she said warmly, slipping her hand into his free one. Her touch was light, and casual, but it sent a wave of nervous energy coursing through him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Hey,” he managed to squeak.

Her eyes dropped to the basket with curiosity as she leaned closer. “What do we have here?” She peeked in, eyebrows lifting as she spotted the ingredients nestled at the bottom. “Flour? Sugar? Vanilla ext-

“It’s for Sam.” he cut her quickly, too quickly. “He asked me to grab some stuff for… for the shop. I needed to come here anyway to buy something for lunch.”

“For the shop?” she echoed, tilting her head.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “He forgot to pick it up earlier.”

Her eyes darted back to the basket. “Okay, but what about you? What are you grabbing for lunch?”

His chest tightened. He should’ve thought this through. “I’m not hungry,” he muttered, his voice clipped.

“Not hungry?” she asked, her smile fading slightly. “You’ve been working all day, Bucky. You should eat something-”

Her genuine concern made his shoulders tense. He didn’t want her prying, didn’t want to screw up the surprise. “I said I’m fine,” he replied, harsher than he intended.

She blinked, taken aback. “Okay…”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the guilt creeping in as he saw the shift in her expression. Still, the panic swirling in his chest made it impossible to backtrack. “I just… I don’t have time to explain, alright?” he said, in a hurried tone. “I need to get back to work.”

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, but he didn’t give her the chance. “I’ll see you later,” he added, moving past her with a quickness that felt borderline rude.

“Wait, Bucky-”

“I’ll call you,” he said over his shoulder, already heading for the register. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, avoiding the weight of her gaze as he paid and left the store, the bell above the door jangling behind him.

Outside, the cold air hit his face, but it didn’t ease the heat of frustration prickling under his skin. He hated how his tone had come out. Too rough, too abrupt, but he was incapable of handling it differently.

She stood by the shelves long after Bucky had hurried out, the bell above the store’s door still faintly ringing in her ears. She replayed their conversation, or lack thereof, in her mind. His curt tone, the way he barely looked at her, it was unlike him. Maybe he was just having a bad day. She hoped that was all it was.

But then a few days passed, and she didn’t see him, and the messages were almost nonexistent.

What she didn’t know was that Bucky had been using every spare moment to tackle the recipes in that cookbook. Each attempt ended worse than the last: a disaster of burnt edges, underbaked centers, or cookies that crumbled to dust at the lightest touch.

He stood in his kitchen, staring at the latest batch, which somehow managed to be both rock-hard and sticky at the same time. He rubbed a hand down his face, the other gripping the counter as frustration curled tight in his chest. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

It wasn’t just the cookies. It was the nagging feeling that he was failing at something so simple. The harder he tried, the worse it seemed to get. Maybe there was something wrong with his brain. He threw himself into fixing it, retreating further into his house and unintentionally pulling away from her.

Each time she asked to meet, he had an excuse ready.

“I’m exhausted, darlin’.” he’d said one evening.

“Not feeling great, the migraine came back,” he told her the next day.

“Now’s not a good time,” was the worst.

When she offered to bring him lunch at the workshop, hoping for at least a few stolen minutes together, he deflected. “Shop’s too busy these days,” he had added gruffly. “Wouldn’t look good.”

Her chest tightened every time he brushed her off. She tried not to take it personally, but the doubt crept like frost on a windowpane. Had she done something wrong? Was she being too pushy? Too clingy?

Sitting at home with her phone in her lap, she stared at his last message. The usual warmth in his words was absent. She bit her lip, scrolling back through their conversations, searching for some clue as to what had changed.

Eventually, Bucky grudgingly texted Sam's sister to ask for help. He stared at the phone screen, his thumb hovering over the send button. Every fiber of his being wanted to delete the message, but he was out of options. His fingers itched to toss the phone onto the counter and forget this ever happened, but instead, he hit send.

The reply came quickly:

Sure. Meet me at the diner during my break. You’re buying lunch.

The last part made him groan, but at least Sarah had agreed. She was the only person he could think of who could help him without making it a big deal. He’d dreaded this conversation from the moment he realized he couldn’t pull off the cookies on his own.

When lunchtime rolled around, Bucky made his way to the diner, his stomach twisting with nerves. He slid into the booth across from Sarah, his shoulders tight and his hands fidgeting on the table.

“All right,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table. “You dragged me out here, so spill. What’s going on?”

Bucky shifted in his seat, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “I need help,” he muttered.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “With…?”

He sighed. “Cookies.”

“Cookies?” she repeated, clearly holding back a laugh.

“Yeah, cookies,” he grumbled, lowering his voice. “I’ve been trying to make them for Y/n. It’s supposed to be a Christmas gift, but I can’t get it right. Every batch is worse than the last.”

Sarah tilted her head, her expression somewhere between amused and concerned. “Wait a second. How many batches are we talking about here?”

Bucky hesitated, his gaze dropping to the table. “A lot,” he admitted reluctantly. “I’ve been working on it for… a few days now after work.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “A few days? What, have you just been locking yourself in your house this whole time? Baking?”

The remnants of his grilled cheese sat on the plate in front of him, barely touched. she, on the other hand, was halfway through her fries, a teasing smirk playing on her lips as she listened to him stumble through his explanation. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks heat. “Maybe. You know already that when I’m fixated on something I can get-”

“So let me get this straight,” Sarah interrupted, crossing her arms and leaning back in the booth. “You’ve been holing yourself up in your cabin, failing at baking cookies, and ignoring your girlfriend because you’re too proud to ask her for help?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, no? Then what is it like?” she questioned, crossing her arms.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heavy weight of her stare. “I just… wanted to surprise her. She always does so much for me, and I thought I could do something nice for her for once. But nothing’s working, and-” He stopped, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

Sarah softened, her teasing giving way to something gentler. “Look, Bucky. It’s sweet that you want to do this for her. But you’re overthinking it. Cookies don’t have to be perfect; they just have to come from the heart, she would love them anyway.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he muttered.

Sarah laughed. “You think I was born knowing how to bake? Trust me, it took plenty of trial and error. And maybe a few smoke alarms.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, almost a smile.

“Okay,” she said, brushing her hands off on a napkin. “Let’s start with the basics. What recipe are you trying to use?”

Before he could answer, the bell over the diner door jingled, drawing both their gazes to the entrance. It was just a regular patron, and Bucky’s attention began to shift back to Sarah. But then, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her. Y/n stood just outside the window, frozen mid-step, a paper bag from the bakery clutched tightly in her hands.

Bucky’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t hear them through the glass, but the scene must have looked... bad. Him sitting with Sarah, leaning casually across the table, her easy smile lighting up the booth, while his phone sat untouched, the unanswered messages from Y/n still lingering in his inbox.

He swore under his breath.

Her lips parted slightly as if she was about to say something, but then she looked away.

He could see the shift, the moment her walls went up. She adjusted her grip on the bag, straightened her posture, and turned on her heel, walking briskly down the sidewalk.

“Uh-oh,” Sarah muttered, her gaze flicking between them. “Good luck with that,” she added dryly, biting into another fry as he scrambled out of the booth.

His long strides closed the distance quickly, but as he reached out to touch her shoulder, he hesitated. His hand hovered for a moment before dropping to his side. Instead, he called her name.

She didn’t stop right away, her pace faltering for half a second before continuing, though slower this time.

He tried again and she finally stopped, turning around slowly, her eyes bright with unshed tears. That sight hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, the words he had lined up fled his mind.

“I can explain,” he said, stepping closer but keeping a careful distance.

She made a small motion with her head, a tilt that told him to continue. She didn’t trust her voice to speak just yet, her grip tightening around the bakery bag.

“I was talking to Sarah,” he began, his voice low and uncertain. “About... about a problem I’ve been having.”

Her brows furrowed, and he stumbled over his next words. “It’s-it’s nothing serious, just something I needed... advice on.”

“Advice?” she repeated, her tone soft but tinged with something sharper.

He nodded, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah.”

She exhaled, and when she spoke again, her voice trembled but held firm. “You know, I always thought I was the person you’d turn to if you needed help.” Her gaze locked on his, vulnerable yet unyielding. “It seems like it's not the case lately.”

“That’s not true,” he stated quickly, words rushing together. “I… God, I’m sorry if I’ve been... distant. Absent. It’s not you, it’s-” He paused, groaning softly as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I have my reasons.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her next words were calm but carried an edge. “We’re grown adults, Bucky. This isn’t one of those predictable novels where the characters dance around their miscommunication until everything blows up.” She crossed her arms, the bakery bag crinkling slightly. “If something’s going on, I expect you to be concrete with me, not feed me veiled comments or excuses.”

“I know,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping slightly. “You deserve better than that. I just... I didn’t want to mess this up.”

Her eyes softened, but she didn’t drop her stance. “Then stop treating me like I’m someone you could mess things up with, and just talk to me.”

Bucky let out a heavy breath, raking a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said, with a low but resolute voice. "I’ll just… come clean."

Her expression stayed guarded, but he could see a flicker of curiosity as he shifted his weight, looking anywhere but directly at her. "I don’t… I’m not great at this kind of thing. Talking, explaining. But I know this. You, us… this thing doesn’t mean anything if it’s making you upset." She blinked, her features softening just a fraction. He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for the right words. "I’ve been working on something. For you."

“For me?” she asked, brows raising slightly.

“Yeah.” He looked at her briefly before glancing away again, his lips twitching with nervous energy. "Cookies. I’ve been trying to bake cookies for you. For Christmas. I thought… you’re always cooking for me, always doing things to make my life easier. I wanted to do something for you. Something meaningful." He exhaled roughly, the words spilling out faster now. "But I’m awful at it. Every batch gets worse, and I’ve been so damn focused on trying to get it right that I didn’t even realize how I was shutting you out."

As his story progressed, she could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed and fidgeted at his sides, and his eagerness to make things right even as he stumbled over his words. Her expression shifted, the initial frustration melting into something gentler as she bit her lip, her emotions caught between amusement and tenderness.

“Bucky,” she murmured, stepping forward before he could say more. She dropped the bakery bag and hugged him tightly, her arms wrapping around his waist.

He froze for a moment before leaning into the embrace, his arms hesitantly circling her back. They stayed like that, wrapped in silence, until she broke the quiet.

"You could’ve just bought me a can of cookies, you know. Then I could’ve used it to put my sewing supplies in there.”

He let out a low laugh against her hair. "Yeah, but what kind of gesture would that be?"

"A less stressful one," she teased, pulling back just enough to look up at him, with a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Maybe," he admitted, his blue eyes searching hers. "But it wouldn’t have been the same."

“How about this,” she began, her voice soft yet playful. “We make them together.”

Bucky blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Together?”

“Yeah,” she said, her smile widening. “I’ll teach you how to make them. We’ll turn it into a little… date. You’ll learn how to do it right, and my gift will be spending time with you.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a raised brow. “Before you argue, think about it. I don’t need some perfect Christmas cookies, Bucky. I’d much rather spend time with you, and make sure you don’t burn your kitchen down in the process.”

He hesitated, then gave her a slow nod. “Alright. We’ll make ‘em together.” Then a determined smile played on his lips. If learning to bake with her would give him another shot at perfecting those cookies on his own later, it was a win-win. And this time, he wouldn’t mess it up.

That afternoon, as planned, Bucky arrived at her house. When she opened the door, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him standing there with two overstuffed grocery bags in hand.

“You didn’t have to bring everything-,” she started, stepping aside to let him in.

“I did,” he cut in firmly, gripping the bags. “I’m the one learning here, and I’ll be damned if you’re the one paying for my mess-ups.”

She chuckled. “Don’t sell yourself short just yet. You might have a hidden talent.”

He gave her a doubtful look but didn’t argue. Turning fully to her, he gave her a quick, self-conscious smile before she leaned up to kiss him, a soft, reassuring press of her lips against his.

“Come on,” she said, pulling back and taking his hand. “I’ve got everything set up.”

She led him to the kitchen, where bowls, measuring cups, and utensils were neatly arranged. A checkered white-and-blue apron lay folded on the counter, which she promptly picked up and handed to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the apron like it might bite.

“Your apron,” she said simply, unfolding it and holding it up to him. “It’s going to save you from ruining that nice shirt of yours. Plus, it suits you.”

He muttered something under his breath about dignity, but he didn’t resist when she slipped it over his head and tied the strings at his back. She stepped back, tilting her head as if admiring her handiwork.

“There. Perfect,” she said with a grin.

He shook his head, but his lips twitched in a faint smile. “Alright, what now?”

“Well, first,” she began, pulling out a notebook and pen, “which recipe were you trying?”

Bucky hesitated, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… if you’ve got a favorite, we could try that instead.”

“Nope,” she replied, crossing her arms with a playful smile. “This is your project. I want to see what you picked.”

His ears turned red as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled recipe card with his handwriting, handing it to her.

She smoothed it out, scanning the list of ingredients and instructions. “Alright,” she said, looking up at him with an amused and encouraging smile. “Let’s see if we can make some magic happen.”

Bucky grabbed an elastic band from his back pocket, pulling his hair back and tying it into a short ponytail. His movements were quick and practiced, but to her, it was a sight worth pausing for.

“You know,” she said, leaning against the counter with a teasing grin, “you look ridiculously handsome like that.”

He glanced at her, his cheeks warming as he muttered, “It’s just a hairdo for workin’. Nothin’ fancy.”

“Still counts,” she replied with a shrug, stepping closer to nudge his arm.

He ducked his head with a quiet huff but didn’t say more, focusing instead on the task at hand.

When they started reading through the recipe together, Bucky's brow furrowed in concentration. “Okay,” he muttered, “this part says a cup.” As he spoke, he reached for a mug she hadn’t even noticed sitting on the counter, a large, oversized thing that looked more suited for a vat of coffee than precise measurements. She blinked, then glanced up at him.

“Bucky,” she said gently, pointing at the mug, “what have you been using for this?”

He hesitated, shifting his weight. “Uh… one from my cupboard,” he admitted, his tone almost defensive. “The grey one with the red star?”

Her lips twitched, and she pressed them together to suppress a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Not all cups are the same, especially when you’re baking. It’s not about a drinking cup, it’s about measuring cups.”

She picked up her set of cups, holding them up for him to see. “These are what you use for recipes. They’re standardized so everything comes out the way it’s supposed to.”

Bucky looked between the measuring cups and his oversized mug, realization dawning on his face. “So… that’s why every batch turned out so bad,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Baking is like chemistry.” She added with a chuckle, “The right proportions make everything work smoothly. I guess you didn’t differentiate the size of the spoons either.” When she saw his disappointed face she reached up to gently pat his shoulder. “You’re not alone. A lot of people make these mistakes when they start. That’s why we’re doing this together.”

They moved through the recipe step by step, she perched beside him, offering quiet guidance while letting him take the lead. Bucky tried to focus on the instructions, but each step felt like a puzzle missing a crucial piece. As he measured out flour and sugar, he couldn’t help but second-guess every motion, leveling off scoops with exacting care that bordered on obsession.

It wasn’t just the baking, it was her watching him. Her eyes followed his hands with a soft patience that should’ve soothed him, but instead left him hyper-aware of every move he made. He could feel her gaze like a weight, one he didn’t know how to carry. His shoulders stiffened further when he noticed a bit of flour scatter onto the counter.

When he started mixing the dough, frustration began to creep in. “This stuff doesn’t want to combine,” he muttered, glaring down at the stubbornly clumpy mixture.

She leaned closer, brushing her hand lightly against his back as she peered into the bowl. Her touch sent a jolt through him, not unpleasant, just… distracting. “It takes a little patience,” she said softly. “You’re doing fine, Bucky. Really.”

He wanted to believe her, but self-doubt crept intrusive inside him. What if I screw this up? The thought lingered on a loop, heavy and unwelcome. He worked the spatula harder, tension tightening his jaw and making his movements stiff.

She noticed, of course she did. She always noticed. Setting her utensils aside, she slipped an arm around his waist, pulling herself close to his side. Her nose brushed against his chest as she nuzzled him gently, the warmth of her body cutting through the wall he didn’t even realize he’d been building.

“Relax,” she murmured, looking up at him with a soft smile. “You’re not dismantling a bomb here. No one’s born knowing everything, and you came today to learn. That’s already the hardest part.”

He let out a breath, her words chipping away some of the tension clawing at him. “Yeah,” he muttered, though his movements were still careful and deliberate as if the dough would mock him for messing up.

She tilted her head, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes. He recognized that look and braced himself, but nothing could have prepared him for what she did next. Without a word, she grabbed his hand, still sticky with half-mixed dough, and brought it to her mouth.

His eyes widened as two of his fingers disappeared between her lips. The room stilled, and his focus narrowed to her. Her tongue swirled over his skin, warm and deliberate, as she sucked the dough clean. His heart thudded against his ribs, his breath catching somewhere in his throat.

“What… what are you doing?” he managed, his voice raspier than intended.

She released his fingers with a soft pop and a smug expression. “Waking you up,” she teased. “And there’s no way you could disappoint me anyway. I’ve barely been paying attention to the recipe.”

His brow furrowed. “Why?”

Her lips curled into a grin as her gaze swept over him, slow and deliberate. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “Big guy in my kitchen, wearing my apron, looking way too good with his hair pulled back. Take your pick.”

Heat crawled up his neck, but he couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to the bowl.

When the time came to cut the cookies, Bucky rummaged through one of the bags he’d brought and pulled out a set of festive cookie cutters. He laid them on the counter, and she squealed in delight, clapping her hands together.

“These are so cute!” she exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over.

Bucky’s half-smile turned bigger. “Yeah?”

She nodded enthusiastically, picking up one of the cutters shaped like a snowflake. “Good choice, honey.”

His chest warmed at her praise, and for once, he didn’t feel quite so out of his depth. They worked side by side together, cutting the dough into cheerful shapes. She was quick, deftly pressing cutters into the rolled-out dough and transferring each piece to the baking tray with practiced ease. He followed her lead, slower but methodical, determined to match her precision.

In what felt like no time, the oven was full of cookies, their sweet, buttery scent already starting to fill the kitchen. Bucky leaned back against the counter, pulling her into his side with one arm. She nestled into him, her head resting against his chest as they both stared at the timer ticking down.

“You’re getting pretty domestic.” she teased, tilting her head up, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, her lips lingering there for a moment. “So,” she began, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “how are you planning to decorate these?”

He froze. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. His brow furrowed as he glanced at the trays, panic flickering in his blue eyes. “I, uh…” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t… I didn’t think that far ahead.”

Her laughter was light but not unkind. “It’s okay,” she said, patting his chest reassuringly. “I’ll take care of it.”

“That wasn’t the idea,” he protested, frowning. “This is supposed to be my thing. For you.”

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll teach you how to make royal icing, and then you’re on your own.”

The timer dinged, and they set about transferring the cookies to cooling racks. Once the cookies were ready, she walked him through the steps of making royal icing, from mixing the powdered sugar to coloring small batches with food dye.

At first, his hands were clumsy, unfamiliar with the delicate work of piping, but soon enough, Bucky found his rhythm. He focused intently on each cookie, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he carefully outlined a reindeer’s antlers or added intricate snowflake details.

She stood back, watching with growing amazement. “You’ve got a steady hand,” she remarked, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter.

He shrugged, still concentrating. “I’ve had practice. Just… not with this.”

By the time he finished, the cookies were nothing short of impressive. Each one was decorated with precision, from cheerful Santas to elegant wreaths. He turned to her, brushing a streak of flour from his cheek with the back of his hand. “Well?”

She grinned, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. “They’re perfect, Bucky.”

The sky was painted in soft strokes of pink and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. Bucky stretched his arms above his head, his joints popping after hours spent hunched over the kitchen counter. “I’ll leave the cookies here to set overnight,” he said, glancing at the rows of perfectly iced cookies spread across her counter. “But I need to head over to the workshop. Got some decorations to drop off.”

“Decorations?” she asked, tilting her head.

He nodded toward the door. “Yeah, Sam thought it’d be nice if everyone pitched in this year. Made something personal for the display. I’ve got mine in the truck.”

Her face lit up. “Can I come? I’ll help you set everything up.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, but the warmth in her gaze was hard to resist. “Alright,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “Let’s go.”

By the time they reached the workshop, the place was dark and locked up for the evening. Bucky fished his keys out of his pocket, the metal jingling softly in the quiet air. “Here we are,” he muttered, unlocking the door and holding it open for her.

The workshop smelled faintly of sawdust and varnish, even in the chill of winter. A few decorations already hung from the rafters: wooden stars, garlands crafted from pinecones, and even a clumsily painted reindeer that had Sarah’s handiwork written all over it.

She wandered further inside, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she took in the holiday cheer. “This is so cozy,” she said, her voice echoing softly in the empty space.

Bucky stepped past her, setting a large box on the workbench. She peeked inside, her grin widening as she spotted a tangle of string lights. “Oh, these are perfect! Did you really make these?”

“They’re just lights,” he replied with a shrug, but the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed his modesty.

She picked up a strand and held it aloft, the tiny bulbs catching the last traces of daylight filtering through the workshop windows. “No, I can tell you put effort into this, they are gorgeous.”

Her words made his chest tighten, and a mix of pride and awkwardness settled over him. “Come on,” he said, reaching for the box. “Let’s get these up.”

They worked side by side, untangling the string lights with care. She gently teased him when he accidentally knotted a section tighter, but as they kept at it, she couldn’t help but praise him again.

“You’re so good at manual labor,” she said, handing him the next strand. “Carpentry at Sam’s, the cookies earlier, fixing things around my place... and now these lights? Is there anything you can’t do?”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile, but her words stirred darker thoughts within him. Oh, if she only knew what else his hands were good at. Things that involve a knife, a rifle, or worse. The memories flickered like a shadow across his mind, a sharp contrast to the festive glow they were creating.

“Bucky?” Her soft voice pulled him from the spiral.

“Hm?” he mumbled, blinking as he looked at her.

“Maybe you could make some lights for me next year,” she suggested.

He exhaled softly, forcing the tension out of his shoulders. “Sure.”

Sensing the remnants of whatever had crossed his mind, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her cheek against his chest. Her embrace relaxed him, the warmth of her touch chasing away the cold corners of his thoughts.

“You still have the ponytail,” she pointed out, glancing up at him with a grin. “I love it.”

He rolled his eyes, though a faint flush touched his cheeks. “It’s practical,” he repeated, focusing on arranging the next strand of lights.

“It’s sexy,” she countered, her grin turning mischievous.

As he worked, her eyes fell on the remaining strand of lights still in the box, and a mischievous idea sparked in her mind.

“You know,” she began, picking up the last strand, “these could do more than just decorate the workshop.”

He looked up at her, brow raised. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

She shrugged, holding the strand up and letting it dangle between her fingers. “I don’t know. They seem sturdy enough to, I don’t know... tie something up?”

His head tilted, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he caught the teasing edge in her tone. “You mean like a post?”

“Sure, Bucky. A post,” she replied, her lips quirking into a smirk.

He took a step toward her, his broad frame closing the gap between them. “Or something else?”

Her grin widened. “That’s up to you, isn’t it?”

He didn’t say anything, but the shift in his expression was unmistakable. Without a word, he plucked the strand of lights from her hands and looped it loosely over her wrist. Her heart skipped, as he moved with the careful, deliberate precision she’d just been praising. Before she could react, he had her wrists gently bound together with the lights, tying them off to the sturdy handle of the workbench vice.

“Bucky,” she murmured, tugging lightly at the restraint, “I didn’t mean... here.”

His brow quirked, as he leaned back, casually admiring his handiwork. “Oh, didn’t you?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she squirmed a little, testing the hold. “What if someone comes in?”

“No one’s coming in,” he said, his voice calm and confident.

“You don’t know that,” she countered, her eyes darting toward the locked door as though willing it to stay closed.

He stepped closer, crowding her space in that way that always made her pulse race. “Well,” he drawled, one hand tracing the strand around her wrists, “you should’ve thought about that before suggesting this creative use for my handiwork.”

Her lips parted, a retort bubbling on her tongue, but it fizzled under the weight of his heated gaze. “I didn’t think you’d actually... do it,” she whispered.

“That so?” His voice was low, teasing as he leaned in, his breath brushing her ear. “Then maybe you shouldn’t dare me next time.”

Before she could muster a reply, his free hand cradled the back of her neck, pulling her into a rough, searing kiss. He took full advantage of her startled gasp to deepen it, lifting her effortlessly and laying her back on the workbench. Her arms were stretched above her head, her wrists binded to the workbench handle, a tether she couldn’t help but tug against instinctively.

“Bucky,” she breathed, her voice laced with a mix of arousal and reason. “We can’t... not here.”

“Can’t we?” he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive skin beneath her jaw. His hands, strong and sure, settled on her hips as he positioned himself between her legs.

Her protests faltered as his mouth found the hollow of her throat, trailing wet, deliberate kisses down to her collarbone.

“This is insane,” she whispered, though her fingers flexed against the strands holding her wrists.

“Maybe,” he rasped, his voice rough with need. “But you don’t seem to mind.” Her body betrayed her, arching toward him, inviting his touch as he continued his slow, torturous path down her neck.

As he spoke, his hand traced up her thigh, slipping beneath the woolen skirt she’d worn to keep warm in the crisp winter air. His fingers traveled with deliberate slowness, brushing over her stocking-clad legs until they reached her mound, cupping it through her already damp panties. She gasped, tugging against the makeshift restraint at her wrists as his touch sent a jolt of heat through her body.

“In fact,” he murmured, pressing his fingers more firmly against her, “you’re enjoying it.”

Her breath hitched, and she couldn’t summon a denial, not with the way her body was reacting. He smirked at her silence, leaning back slightly to survey the sight of her stretched out on the workbench.

His hands shifted to her hips, sliding her skirt up higher, bunching it around her waist. His gaze darkened as he poked at her clothed entrance, watching the way she arched toward him, needing more. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he let out a low groan.

“The jacket stays on,” he growled, commanding. She blinked at him, a question forming at her lips, but he shook his head. “It’s cold, and I’m not letting you freeze on me.”

Before she could respond, he shrugged off his own jacket, tossing it onto a nearby stool. His hands moved to his belt, fumbling with the buckle and zipper in his urgency. “I was gonna take my time,” he admitted, his voice rough with restraint, “but seeing you like this…” His gaze raked over her, taking in the flush on her cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath her jacket, and the way her legs spread just enough to accommodate him. “I need you now, sweetheart.”

Her lips parted softly “I want you too, Bucky.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he tugged them down her thighs, the damp fabric clinging stubbornly before he discarded them onto the floor. His own pants and underwear followed in quick succession, pooling around his boots as he climbed back over her.

The heat of his body pressed against hers was a stark contrast to the chill in the air. His rough hands held her hips as he shifted between her legs and captured her lips in a deep, consuming kiss, grinding his cock against her slick folds. She moaned into his mouth, her body instinctively lifting toward him, chasing the friction.

“Fuck,” he rasped against her lips, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. “You feel so good, sugar. So wet for me.”

Her only response was another needy arch of her hips, and he growled softly, gripping her thighs as he lined himself up with her entrance. The tip of his cock teased her, as though he was savoring the moment despite his earlier haste.

“Bucky,” she whimpered, her voice raw with need, “please.”

His jaw tightened, his resolve barely hanging by a thread. “Don’t be impatient” he murmured, his voice a rough, gravelly tease. “I want to-” He broke off, swallowing hard as his cock pressed against her entrance, her heat almost enough to make him lose control. “I want to just fuck you right now, but I didn’t prep you. I’m not risking hurting you.”

She groaned in frustration, her head tipping back against the workbench. In her heated state, her filter was long gone. “I don’t care, Bucky. I want it all, right now.”

His blue eyes snapped to hers, darkened with lust but narrowing with a hint of reproach. “Don’t say things like that,” he growled with a strained voice. “You’re making this harder for me.”

Her lips curved into a sly smile, even as she squirmed beneath him. “Good.”

Bucky let out a low, frustrated groan, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though there was no real heat in his words. She could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, even as he fought to stay focused.

He shifted, one hand moving between them to guide himself, his other hand keeping her firmly in place. Slowly, carefully, he began to push inside, stopping to let her adjust with each inch. Her walls stretched around him, the delicious burn making her moan, her bound wrists pulling reflexively against the lights as she arched her back.

She whimpered his name, her legs wrapping around his hips to pull him closer. “More,” she pleaded, her breath coming in short, needy gasps.

“Darlin' I’m trying,” he rasped, pausing to catch his breath, his forehead pressing against hers. “But you gotta let me take care of you.”

Her head tilted, her eyes locking with his, and there was so much trust and desire in her gaze that it almost undid him. “You are, Bucky,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “But I need it now.”

His restraint cracked, and with a low groan, he pushed deeper, sinking into her inch by inch until he was fully seated inside her.

Bucky groaned as her walls clenched around him. She mewled softly, tilting her head back, her bound wrists tugging at the lights as she instinctively moved her hips upward, desperate for more.

“See?” she murmured, her lips brushing his, her breath warm and teasing. “I told you I could take it.”

His jaw tightened, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. “You’re gonna drive me crazy,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to thrust forward again, deliberately slow despite the tension tightening every muscle in his body.

Her whimper sent a jolt of desire straight through him, her legs tightening around his hips as she arched up to meet his shallow movements. “Please, baby,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “I need you to move.”

“Just… wait,” he ground out, his jaw tight as he tried to keep himself in check. His restraint was hanging by a thread, but he was determined to go slow, to make it good for her despite the fire licking at his nerves. The way she shifted beneath him, her hips rolling against his, hot, wet, and utterly desperate, was unraveling him inch by inch.

And then she did it, arching her back, her chest pressing into his, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip before her tongue darted out to soothe the sting. “Please,” she whispered, her voice sultry, pleading, her eyes locking onto his with wild abandon.

He snapped.

With a guttural groan, he slammed into her, hard and deep. She cried out, a sharp sound that made him freeze with guilt.

“Shit,” he muttered, his body taut with tension. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head furiously, her eyes glassy with need as she squirmed beneath him. “No. God, no,” she whimpered, her voice broken. “Don’t stop. Please, Bucky, don’t stop.”

He exhaled slowly, rough and ragged as he fought to steady himself. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, with a strained voice.

He started again, his movements slow at first, but the way her body responded to him, -arching, trembling, pushing- had his resolve crumbling all over again. He tried to quicken his pace, thrust harder, deeper, but the workbench beneath them was unforgivingly hard, and he growled in frustration, halting mid-thrust. With a muttered curse, he pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach in one swift motion. His hands gripped her hips, lifting them slightly as he pushed her skirt higher and entered her again, this time setting a punishing pace, the new angle pulling a sharp cry from her lips.

“Better?” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “You just couldn’t wait, didn’t you?” he grunted, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he drove into her.

Her only response was a desperate moan, her hips rolling back against him as though to urge him deeper.

The sight of her body rippling down his, her restrained hands trying to hold onto something, and her flushed face pressed against the wood was enough to drive him wild. “Look at you,” he muttered. “So perfect like this, all laid out for me.” He pulled back, straightening, and gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks as he plunged into her with renewed force. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as he pushed her higher and higher.

Every time she gasped his name, every shudder that ran through her body, spurred him on. He felt her tense and start to tremble, and he knew she was close. His fingers slid down to where they were joined, brushing against her clit, and she nearly screamed, trembling and spiraling closer to the edge.

“Come on,” he murmured, rough and coaxing. “I know you’re close. Give it to me, sweetheart.”

Her body obeyed before her mind caught up, crying out his name, dragging him into his own release with a hoarse groan as he buried himself deep inside her one last time.

They stayed like that for a moment, his body draped over hers, ragged breaths mingling in the chilled air of the workshop. He pressed a soft kiss at the back of her neck, and gently napped the sensitive skin peeking through her jacket.

As the heat of the moment faded, a flicker of practicality broke through the haze clouding Bucky’s mind. His gaze drifted to the polished surface of the workbench beneath her, and a realization hit him like a bucket of cold water. If he weren’t careful, they’d leave an undeniable -and very permanent- mark on the wood.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, pressing another soft kiss to the nape of her neck.

Her head turned slightly. “What’s wrong?” she asked, voice soft and hoarse from her cries moments ago.

“The bench,” he grumbled, his hands steadying her hips. “I didn’t think it through. If we…” He hesitated, the thought of explaining a stain on the workbench’s varnish almost as mortifying as the act itself.

Her chuckle was low and warm. “Are you serious?” she teased, her body still pliant under his hands.

“Very. Sam’ll notice, and I’m not about to answer questions about this.”

“Fine,” she giggled, smirking over her shoulder. “So, what’s the plan?”

First, he tugged at the string to sever it and free her from the handle, then, instead of pulling out abruptly, he eased back, his hands steady on her hips as he helped her shift, guiding her carefully to sit on his lap. Her knees wobbled, still weak from the ordeal

“Bucky,” she began, her voice playful but still breathless, “if this is your way of sweeping me off my feet-”

“Shut up,” a soft laugh rumbled from his chest. He adjusted his grip, shifting slightly until he was closer to the edge of the workbench. With a deliberate steadiness, he leaned forward and gently lowered her until her feet touched the cold floor.

She gasped at the chill against her bare toes, instinctively leaning back into his warmth as she steadied herself. “Not exactly a graceful dismount,” she quipped, her lips curving into a smirk as her hands found his forearms for balance.

Bucky winced, a hint of pink creeping up his cheeks. “I can’t believe you just said that,” he muttered, half under his breath.

She grinned, brushing back a stray lock of hair. “You can thank the Wild West novel I’m working on for that one.”

His brow arched as he helped her steady herself. “Oh, so you traded the laird’s sword for the cowboy’s long gun, huh?”

Her laugh bubbled out, leaning into him as her shoulders shook. “You know,” she teased, poking his chest lightly, “you’re catching on a little too quickly to these tropes.”

Bucky’s gaze dropped to her wrists, still loosely bound by the string of lights he severed from the bench. His lips quirked into a mischievous smirk as he reached down, gripping the strand and giving it a gentle tug. “Oh, maybe I’m just entertaining the idea of you being my captive, in retaliation for the sheriff messing with my business,” he said, his voice low and playful.

Her laughter cut off with a soft gasp, and she feet her cheeks starting to heat. “Y-you talk about your sister’s novels,” she stammered, narrowing her eyes at him. “But I’m starting to think you’ve totally read this kind of thing. As a horny teenager, or… I don’t know!”

He chuckled. “You think I spent my teenage years reading romance novels?

“Well,” she said, her tone turning playful, “not everyone had the internet back then, and I’m sure there was a limit to how many dirty magazines a boy could buy with his allowance. Especially in a small town.”

Bucky’s brow shot up. “Dirty magazines, huh?”

She grinned, shrugging as she leaned into him. “What can I say? I can totally imagine young, innocent Bucky Barnes, desperate for... enlightenment, flipping through anything he could get his hands on.”

“I didn’t-“

“Don’t try to deny it. It’s not like you had endless options. A boy’s gotta make do.”

Bucky shook his head, his ears visibly red as he muttered, “We are not having this conversation.”

“Oh, we absolutely are,” she teased, her grin widening as she poked his chest again, delighting in his flustered expression. “Come on, enlighten me. What did you do for fun in a town like this as a teenager?”

“Worked,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as if that would end the conversation.

“Worked?” she echoed, incredulous. “That’s it? No sneaking out, no rebellious shenanigans, no awkward first crushes?”

Bucky sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor as if avoiding hers might shield him from the conversation. “I guess eventually you’ll find out,” he muttered, “since it seems the people of this town love to gossip like it’s a local sport.”

She tilted her head, intrigued by his sudden reluctance. “Oh? And what juicy tidbit am I missing out on?”

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line before finally relenting. “I was... erm, popular with the girls ’round here,” he said, his voice low and gruff, like he was confessing a crime.

Her eyebrows shot up, and she barely contained a laugh. “Popular? Like, homecoming king popular or...?”

“Not exactly,” he cut in quickly, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Let’s just say I didn’t exactly have to grab a magazine to see... you know...” He trailed off, making a vague gesture with his hand that only deepened the flush on his cheeks.

Her mouth fell open in mock shock, one hand flying to her chest. “Bucky Barnes,” she gasped, “are you telling me you were the town’s resident heartbreaker?”

“I didn’t say that!” he shot back, his ears turning red.

“You didn’t not say it,” she teased, leaning closer with a wicked grin. “Now I need details. How many hearts did you leave shattered? How many windows did you sneak out of at the crack of dawn?”

He groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “It wasn’t like that,” he insisted, though his flustered tone betrayed him. “And I didn’t sneak out of anyone’s window, thank you very much.”

Bucky’s hand dropped from his face, his expression shifting into something more subdued. “Anyway,” he said, his voice quieter, “it was a long time ago. Sometimes it feels like it was another life.”

Her playful grin softened at his tone, her teasing instinctively halting as she watched him carefully.

“I left the town when I enlisted,” he continued, glancing away as if looking for the right words. “And only came back after fifteen years. When they...” His jaw tightened for a moment before he finished, “...decided I wasn’t enough anymore to be serving.”

Her heart ached at the weight of his words and she stepped closer, reaching for his hands as she studied his face. “Bucky…”

He shook his head slightly, offering a small, forced smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “’s fine,” he said, though the tightness in his tone suggested otherwise.

Her grip on his hands tightened. “You’re more than enough. To me. To everyone who really knows you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at her with an unreadable expression. Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his smile turned genuine, though still tinged with a trace of sadness.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Suddenly she sneezed, the sound sudden and sharp, breaking the fragile silence that had settled between them. Bucky blinked as if pulled out of a trance, and his gaze swept over the two of them.

He was naked from the waist down, her feet still bare on the cold workshop floor. His brows knitted together as he tousled his hair, a flush creeping up his neck. Without a word, he reached for his boxers, handing them to her in a silent but clear gesture.

She took them, understanding immediately, and began to clean herself as he turned away slightly, reaching for his pants. The sound of fabric sliding and belts clicking filled the space, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

Once his jeans were on and fastened, he turned back to her with a soft expression. “We should go. We already did what we came to do…” his lips quirked in a faint, amused smirk, “and more. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

She stepped closer and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Do you really have to go back to the cabin?” she asked, her voice gentle but hopeful. “My house is closer to the workshop. You could sleep a little longer before work... and you’d get a proper breakfast.”

Bucky paused, studying her face as if weighing her offer. “You trying to bribe me with food?” he asked, a small smirk playing at his lips.

She arched a brow, feigning indignation, “Do I really have to bribe you to sleep with me?” she asked, crossing her arms and tilting her head.

“I-” He opened his mouth, then closed it, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze darted to the floor. “T-that’s not what I meant,” he muttered.

She tiptoed and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “I know, honey,” she murmured, affectionally. “I was just messing with you.”

“Still,” she continued, her eyes searching his face as her hands settled gently on his chest. “Will you come? I really missed my man these days of cookie quarantine.”

Every time she called him her man, Bucky’s chest swelled with an unspoken pride. His blush crept up from his collar, painting his cheeks faintly pink as he looked at her.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a low murmur, a small but shy smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll give my woman whatever she needs.”

Her grin was warm and triumphant, and she gave his chest a playful pat. “Good answer,” she said.

Bucky chuckled softly, pulling her into a loose embrace. “You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, you know that?”

She tilted her head, an amused glint in her eyes. “Is that so?” she asked, her voice lilting with curiosity. “Well, if you were a little more selfish, you’d know that you could ask me anything, and I’d give it to you.”

His brow furrowed slightly at her words, the teasing note in her voice doing little to mask the sincerity beneath them. “Anything?” he asked softly as if testing the weight of her promise.

She nodded, her fingers brushing lightly over his chest. “Anything,” she confirmed warmly.

For a moment, Bucky didn’t reply. Then he gave her a faint smile, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a soft arc along her back.

His gaze flickered to the window where the night stretched on and cleared his throat. “We should head back,” he suggested. Then, after a beat, his lips quirked into a soft smirk, and he added, almost shyly, “Maybe I’m feeling a little selfish tonight.”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, the corner of her mouth tugging into a grin. “Oh? What does that mean?”

Bucky shrugged, his hand drifting to the small of her back as he gently nudged her toward the door. “Guess you’ll just have to come home with me and find out.”

Dividers by: @/saradika

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #Lumberjack!Bucky

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amazinglyashy · 2 months ago

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Hi , I love your LADs works it fits the would be characters reactions according to their personality and I look forward to your work. Can I request a LADs men reaction to reader reading smut manga or BL smut , only if your comfortable with it. Thank you and All the best for your future endeavours 🥰

I have a tab I'm going through right now of a bunch of josei manga and then I open tumblr to this ask LMAO I feel personally attacked, so of course anon! Thank you for the sweet words, and for the request!

Love and Deepspace Li’s reactions to discovering you being an avid smut reader

Sylus -

He is such an evil person.

If he manages to find a physical copy that you own, he's going to read it and he's going to do it in his own time when he knows you'll be coming over soon. He times it just right where he'll be near the ending by the time you get there.

You walk in to him looking absolutely exquisite in reading glasses, a small smile on his lips as he leans back in his chair to ask you how your day has been- book in hand.

The embarrassment is real, even if you claim to not care about 'cringey' things and consuming them. Your love is sitting there with a smutty book in his hand and a knowing grin, and you can't help how hot your face is getting.

"You know, if you like something, you should just tell me, kitten."

Maybe he's referring to the contents of the book, maybe he's referring to your general enjoyment of the genre, you can't tell. He does mean both, though. He would buy you a library worth of smutty books if it made you happy, and he would get all the needed supplies to commit the same acts the characters do for you the next time the two of you have a session.

"Did you really think I'd be upset by something like this, sweetie? You're cute. I'm glad you found something you enjoy. In the future though, don't keep secrets from me. I want to know about you. Everything, about you."

Rafayel -

He will come up behind you to ask you something, and realize that you can't hear him due to being engrossed or having headphones in. He doesn't mean to snoop, but your screen is on display for him, and you don't know he's there.

Oh, he's so happy he decided to try and ask you something.

By the time you realize he's behind you, it's too late, and attempting to shut off your phone proves unsuccessful because he's already giggling.

"How much did you see?!"

"Not much."

"Liar!"

And you're right, because after a moment of silence, he will proceed to recite the last page you had been reading, ducking out of the way as you jump up, your face reddening, as you chase him around the room.

He doesn't care in the slightest. In fact, he will absolutely surprise you with shipping merch from whatever it is you've been reading, and remind you when new chapters are about to drop in case you forget due to stress at work.

Rafayel will also ask you how certain characters are doing, or how certain relationships are coming along. If you enjoyed watching soap operas, he's absolutely the one to watch over your shoulder and ask you questions to catch up.

He still makes rude quips here and there, but you know he doesn't mean anything by it, and the involvement is strangely comforting.

Zayne -

He's known for a long time. Benefits of knowing you when the two of you were younger, he has a pretty good read on the things you might or might not enjoy without needing an explicit answer.

That, and you left a doujinshi on his coffee table once after you used his spare key to break into his home to clean and surprise him with dinner after you had gotten off of work surprisingly early.

No, he won't let you live it down.

He will find a way to calmly bring it up in the most absurd and unnecessary situations. It's his own little running joke that makes you so adorably frustrated, he can't help but continue it.

He'll find other ways to tease you about it, much like how you occasionally tease him over his sweet tooth despite you loving snacks just as much as he does.

Sometimes though, he likes to throw you through a little bit of a loop.

"But also, if there is any content in what you've been reading that you believe you would enjoy, please don't hesitate to let me know."

"I enjoy all of it, that's why I read it, Zayne."

"I assume you misunderstood me, so allow me to restructure my sentence. If there's anything in what you've been reading that you would like done to you, I would like to know. I would love to do those things to you, whatever they might be."

Xavier -

He has purchased you some of these books and ebooks.

Probably the Li that would know the soonest out of all four of them aside from Zayne, just because he kind of just... assumed, much to your own mortification when he told you this fact months ago.

He doesn't give a crap though, it's something you like. He doesn't see any difference between it and the claw machines, even though there is an extremely stark contrast between the two. He used to see no point to the claw machine games you'd love to play, but quickly saw the appeal when he got to play with you.

Maybe he can't share your enjoyment for this, but he does love sitting in the same room as you, reading together even if the two books being consumed are vastly different in content.

He just enjoys your company, it really doesn't matter to him what you both do, or in this case, enjoy during that time.

He thinks its really cute and endearing, especially if you reach a point in whatever you're reading that gets you squealing out loud. Because not only is it absolutely adorable to hear, it's also nice because he knows it means you're comfortable enough to react out loud to your reading, even if it's a rare occurrence.

It's nice to know you're relaxed around him, in every capacity.

#.writey #love and deepspace #lads #lds #x reader #lnds #sylus x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader

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fictionadventurer · 7 months ago

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I love libraries.

I'm browsing the WWI shelves (as you do) and notice a very old book about the war. I glance at the first pages that talk about how one day the war will be over and we'll look at this place and not see any signs of the battlefield.

Then it hits me. And I check the publishing date.

This book was printed before the war's end. Not written. Printed. The physical object was created in 1918, while the war in question was raging and the end was as yet uncertain.

Now I'm standing on the other side of the apocalypse, with this physical link to that era in my hands. I'm living proof that the war did end and life did go on and we can all look at the end of the world as a long-ago memory.

Reading old books is cool enough, connecting our minds and hearts through the ideas of people who lived long ago, but there's something extra profound about holding a copy of the book that comes from the time that it was written. It's a physical link between the past and the present connecting me to those long-ago people. A piece of the past come into the future that gives me the chance to almost take the hand of some long-ago reader, to hold something they could have held, connecting not just mentally but physically to their era, a moment of connection across more than a century.

Excuse me while I go weep.

#books #history is awesome #of course i checked it out #i had no real intent to read wwi non-fic but i couldn't just leave my new friend there it'd be lonely #i want to break out in tears every time i look at it #it's so stupid but sometimes something stupid just kicks you straight in the heart and you just gotta deal #it's old front line by john masefield #i know nothing about it except thinking the author's name sounded vaguely familiar #also the interior design is fantastic #these old books know how to use white space and make something super readable #if you must know i was in the wwi section because i was at the history museum the other day #and saw a local author had a book of wwi letters #thought i'd see if the library had it #looked at the selection of non-fic surrounding it and thought of the wwi persuasion #saw many books that could be useful #and thought 'oh no this looks like fun'#it won't go anywhere i know i won't be able to focus long enough to do real research #but darn if it wasn't an appealing little daydream

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entitled-fangirl · 19 days ago

Text

Sweet nephew.

Gwayne Hightower x wife!reader; One-sided love from Aemond

Summary: Gwayne's wife is the epitome of everything Aemond was never given as a child- a sweet voice, a caring hand, and a comforting presence. He grows a love for her, and Gwayne's pissed.

A/n: This is unlike anything I've ever written and I have mixed emotions but oh well. It's the forced smile in the Gwayne gif for me

Masterlist

............................................

"Hello, sweet nephew."

Aemond's attention immediately shifted to his aunt.

Y/n stepped into the library, moving to Aemond's side. Her hand reached out and ran through his hair, "What are you reading?"

"Mere histories, dear aunt."

"You've always been well studied, my prince."

He leaned back to look at her. "Did mother send you?"

She let out a playful scoff, "Am I just a mere raven to you?"

"No," he quickly defended.

"No," she smiled. "Your mother did not send me. I came to borrow a book."

He stood, "Allow me to help you."

"No need, Aemond. I can find it," she offered.

"Please, Lady Hightower. Let me do this."

She nodded, "That would be nice."

As he stood and walked around one of the many shelves. "Tell me about Old Town."

"It is without change. Your brother has been wonderful."

"And Gwayne?"

She smiled, "Gwayne has always been wonderful."

He didn't miss the light in her eyes, "And how long do you plan to stay?"

She shrugged lightly, "As long as my husband needs me here."

"The war could last years. Old Town will suffer without you two."

"He may send me home before then. My father-by-law, excuse me, your grandsire, should be there by now for Daeron."

Aemond reached up, grabbing one of the books for his aunt, handing it to her, "Hopefully so."

She took it, opening the cover to the first page, "This will do. Thank you, nephew."

"Of course."

She closed the book and held it in the crook of her arm, "I shall see you at supper then?"

Aemond hummed, "Yes."

She smiled and pushed herself to her tip-toes, kissing his forehead.

The prince watched her walk away, a curious look coming across his face.

…

"Ser Gwayne," a steady voice uttered over the courtyard.

Gwayne turned, seeing the Prince confidently moving towards him. "My prince. How many I be of assistance?"

Aemond walked up to his uncle, "I dare ask for a bit of your wisdom."

Gwayne's brow quirked up in surprise, "I see."

He watched as Aemond's eye moved to the other side of the courtyard, admiring Gwayne's wife.

There she sat on her knees, playing with her and Gwayne's young son.

A protective feeling came over the man and he was eager to get the attention away from her, "What was it you needed exactly, my prince?"

Aemond's eye slowly snapped back to Gwayne. "How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

The two men looked back to the woman.

Y/n let out a laugh as her son jumped into her arms, knocking her over.

"You're happily married, dear uncle."

"I am."

Aemond shifted his weight to his other leg, "How?"

Gwayne's brows lifted as he considers the man's question, "My wife is a copy of the Mother. I have been truly blessed to have her at my side."

He noticed how his nephew's confusion never lifted, so he continued to speak. "I married for love, my prince. Not all men have that honor."

"No, they don't," Aemond said. "However, it was no disgrace for you to marry her."

"Never," he agreed. "She's from a noble house."

"She loves you greatly."

Gwayne nodded, "Indeed." He finally had enough, "You wish to marry for love, Prince Aemond? Is that it?"

Aemond hummed, "Something of that sort."

"Gwayne?" Her voice interrupted.

The two men turned to her as she approached them.

Gwayne smiled and reached out to take his son in his arms, "What timing, dear wife. The prince was asking how I've gotten you all to myself." He leaned down at kissed her cheek before turning his attention to his son. "You've been good for your mother, yes?"

Their son giggled and shook his head.

Gwayne feigned shock. "No? Well, we cannot have that. Your mother is a saint."

She held her arms out, "It's time for his studies."

Gwayne held his son close. "I'll take him myself. Perhaps you can keep the Prince company until I return, hmm?"

Her eyes flickered between the two men. "Oh. Of course. If… If that is alright with our nephew."

Both Hightowers stared at him.

Aemond tilted his head side to side before a smirk came across his face. "I believe that shall be just fine."

Gwayne reached his free hand out to his wife's chin, forcing her to look up at him. "I'll return in a matter of minutes, dear wife."

With that, he let go of her and began to walk his son into the Keep.

They watched him disappear and an awkward silence permeated the air.

"I imagine," she finally said, "that this war has been unkind to you thus far."

Aemond was a bit thrown off by her kind thought but he couldn't help the scoff under his breath, "They seem to blame me for its beginning."

Her brows came together, "Yes, I heard of what happened. I can't imagine the guilt you felt…" she paused. "Still feel, I assume."

Aemond's expression grew to confusion. "You don't seem angry."

She shrugged and looked up at him sweetly. "I know you, Aemond. You wouldn't do that. You didn't mean to."

That look in her eyes broke something in him. The tough swordsman felt an oncoming of tears pricking at his eye.

She was understanding a part of him that no one else had dared try to.

"Oh, Aemond," she cooed at the sight of his watery eye. She reached up and caressed his cheek. "Every great warrior must have emotion. That's all that differentiates them from animals. And you, Aemond Targaryen," she spoke with assurance, "Are no animal. Let your tears fall, for I hold no judgment of you."

When they indeed began to fall, she noticed the deep blush in his cheeks due to the embarrassment of crying in the courtyard. She looked around and tugged his hand, pulling him to a corner more hidden away from prying eyes.

Once there, he pulled her against him and weeped into her shoulder. It was a strange sight to see the tall stern prince weep against his small aunt.

But regardless, she held him steadfast, softly cooing and running her hands through his hair as you would a child.

He clawed at the fabric of her dress, and soon his weeping finally coming to a stop.

He sniffled at the two dared not move.

She was worried of what he would do next. Would he push her away and reclaim his harsh exterior or would he let it fade into the background?

His head lifted just barely and a tension rose. Their faces were now inches apart.

She was just now aware of the implications of their position and a worried expression crossed her face.

She took a step back just as Aemond leaned further in to try to kiss her, resulting in the gap staying between them.

They both paused with surprised expressions. "Aemond, I'm not-"

"-Why?"

She hummed, a pattern that Aemond has picked up from her. "You're my nephew. I love you, yes, but not in that way."

His jaw set harshly. "Is that not what love is?"

"No. No, no, no. It's not always, Aemond. You're a wonderful nephew, but that is what you'll stay. I am beyond content with my husband."

His voice rose, "Then why do all of this? Why make me vulnerable? Does it make you feel powerful?" He scoffed.

Gwayne returned just then, with worse timing than ever. In all honestly, he had been standing in the courtyard for a while, witnessing with a cautious eye. He could read the silver-haired dragon rider better than most.

But only when Aemond made a move on his wife, did Gwayne interfere, running across the yard with a fierce anger as red as his hair.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, "Dear nephew, you've kept her safe for me, I see." The smile on his face was very forced, but he was good at hiding it.

Aemond's eye looked between the two. "I did."

"Wonderful. Let us go, woman."

Gwayne practically drug her from the courtyard.

Once through the doors, he hissed. "What happened out there?"

She was still dumbfounded by the entire situation. "I… I'm not sure. I didn't mean to, I promise you."

He rubbed his hands up and down her biceps as a sigh fell from his lips. "I know," he spoke softly. "I shouldn't be angry with you. I just… I can't stand seeing the way he was looking at you."

"The way he looked at me…?"

"It's the way I look at you. I don't want another man to ever look at you that way. I'm a jealous creature, my love."

"I am truly sorry, Gwayne. I'll fix this."

He shook his head, "You have no faults in this. Perhaps a talk with his uncle would help."

She shook her head and gripped his tunic. "No, no. That might anger him more."

Gwayne sighed again. "We'll handle it together. Yes?"

She nodded. "Yes. That's generous." She kissed his cheek. "Thank you, my love."

…

He tried to stay true to that promise until he saw his sister.

"You must control your own son!" He sneered through his teeth as he slammed the door behind him. "I'm tired of the rest of us being trotted upon like shit in a barn!"

"Gwayne, please," Alicent sighed. He hated how calm she was, but that was always her demeanor. She held a hand to her forehead. "Whatever Aegon has done, I can fix. Just let-"

"Not that one." He wanted to tear his hair out in frustration but he knew his wife would scold him for doing so. She loved his hair so much.

A bit of relief flooded over Alicent. "Oh." That then turned to more panic, realizing that while Aegon's problems were often, foolish, and naive, Aemond's were few, calculated, and always had dire effects.

"Your son has a love for my wife," Gwayne explained. "And I won't stand for it."

"What are you talking about?" Alicent asked in confusion.

"Aemond has taken advantage of my wife's kindness. He practically forced himself upon her in the courtyard after manipulating her into comforting him." He ran a hand through his hair. "It disgusts me."

"Gwayne, I'm sure this is a misunderstanding," she said with a forced smile. "Perhaps Y/n… led him on a bit."

His eyes almost came out of his head. For being a relatively calm man, he was growing angrier by the moment. "Do not say that again. My wife is a saint. You'll do well to remember that. If another move is made to her, you'll have no help in battle from this Hightower."

His words were final, a full threat she knew he'd hold to. Gwayne had a flair for dramatics, but threats and promises, no matter how outlandish, he stayed true to.

"What would you have me do?" Alicent asked him. Having a queen ask for council from a knight was a rare sight.

"Just…" He cursed under his breath and placed his hands on his hips. "Maybe ask yourself why he'd do such a thing."

"What are you implying, Gwayne?"

"My wife would not raise our son to do such a thing to a woman. Makes me wonder what you've done all these years."

Gwayne was a fierce protector, often doing so for his sister. But this was his last straw, and everyone was on the metaphorical chopping block in his mind.

…

During Gwayne's talk with his dear sister, Y/n had crept up to Aemond's chambers in hopes of apologizing.

She knocked thrice and heard nothing.

Pushing the door firmly, she saw Aemond curled up on his bed, still in his riding gear and his hair messy against the furs.

"Nephew?"

He shot up, his eye wide in realization, though puffy from tears that no one was supposed to see. Immediately embarrassment flooded his entire soul. "Come to gloat?" His hoarse voice echoed through the room.

"Hardly. I feel awful."

"I thought you'd be like her. Better, even," he whispered, though she was sure it was meant to be kept to himself, "but you're not like her at all."

"Who, sweet nephew?"

His eye widened once again, his entire body seemingly caving in on itself like a defense. He was running out of ways to shut her out. He said nothing.

"My mother was the most caring woman I knew," she began to explain in the silence. "She only wanted the best for her children, and she always had such a steady hand. It was so comforting." She picked at her nails, a habit she caught from one of the Hightowers. "I told myself I wanted to be just like her. Forgive me if my efforts to be comforting came across in a misleading fashion."

"Is that not what a wife does for her husband, though?" His vulnerable voice asked.

"Well, yes. But it's different," she explained. "I treat my husband and my son very differently."

"How?"

"Uh," she was unprepared to answer this question. "I'm responsible for teaching my son the right ways to live. To have him grow to be a great Hightower. But Gwayne is a man grown. I can't teach him things that he already knows. Nor should I have to."

"But you don't tell your son what to do," he pointed out.

"No," she said as if ridiculous. "He should get to explore the world and find things for himself. I only help him when he needs it."

"Mother has never done that."

Y/n's face paled. Suddenly everything was clicking into place.

"Aemond, your mother is surrounded by Targaryens with great dragons as a queen with no power. It's a scary thought for her. She doesn't know how to help you."

"But she does not try!" He exclaimed in frustration.

She let out a breath. "Perhaps so. But she does love you. In her own strange way." She brushes over his cheek. "You are a strong man yet, Aemond. And you'll have a wife soon enough."

"Just not you," he manages through a teary eye.

"No," she gives a small smile. "Not me."

He takes her hand from his cheek, giving a kiss to her knuckles. He took his time, truly savoring the soft skin of his dearest aunt. "May you and my uncle live full lives, by the will of the Seven."

…

She moved from the room, shutting the door behind her. She stepped down the corridor, almost running into her husband.

Gwayne grabbed her waist. "I've decided to speak to the prince."

Her hands rested on his chest. "There's no need. It has been handled."

"Handled?" He questioned. "How so?"

She shrugged lightly. "He... apologized."

Gwayne's brow furrowed. "Did he? That's… kind."

"Like a true gentleman," she added. No one really needed to know of his tears. "Where's our boy?"

"Should be done with his studies soon. We still have time though."

"Time for what?"

He tipped her head up to look at him. "I fear I don't admire my wife as much as I should."

"You know you do."

"No," he bent down and kissed her. "If I worshipped you every day, it still would not be enough. You're sought after by many in the Realm, it seems." He brushed her hair behind her ear. "But me, most of all."

"And you have me."

"Aye. That I do."

……………………………………………

#fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x y/n #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower #ser gwayne #gwayne x you #house hightower #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x reader

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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 3 months ago

Text

Yuu has the audacity to ask a question. It leads to some interesting moments

Jade Leech, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit, Floyd Leech

Jade Leech

“Jade, can I ask you a question?” It’s not often that the library is so packed that you end up sharing a table but if it had to be with anybody, at least it was Jade.

Jade wasn’t naturally academically smart. He took a lot of notes and studied in order to come out in the middle. There were folks that thought he was simply keeping his head down, but Yuu found out by accident. She knew Jade was incredibly street smart and people savvy though, no matter what grades he got. It worked in her favor though, as Jade let them copy notes from last year in exchange for not sharing the information anywhere. Not that Yuu planned too, but they weren’t going to pass up such an opportunity either.

“Of course, I will assist in anyway I can.”

“Do you have any books that you would recommend for scavenging for local flora and fauna in the woods back at Ramshackle? I’ve tried searching through the library but it’s a bit too vague for what I need.”

If Yuu had blinked, they would have missed the brief surprise and delight on his face.

“Well,” he sets his pen down, “As the president of the Mountain Lovers club, I’m sure we could discuss that during our meetings. If only you were a member.” he sighed

“If only Crowley would allow me to join any clubs.” Yuu muttered, “I know it's a requirement for first and second years to be involved in at least one, but he says I have far more to offer as his unofficial assistant. Unpaid is more accurate but what do I know.”

Jade smiles, the one that matches his brothers. Wide and full of teeth.

“Leave Crowley to me, dear Prefect. You just meet me in the morning behind Ramshackle. Bring a basket and your camera, oh, and dress warm. It'll be cold for you.”

He writes some extra instructions on a slip of paper and collects his things, turning left at the library doors. Damn, that was straight to the headmasters’ office too. Jade really doesn't play around when it comes to the Mountain Lover's club.

While Yuu isn’t able to attend every meeting, the Mountain Lover’s club apparently includes trips to other countries, recipes cooked in the Ramshackle kitchen as well as appreciating cultures and crafts made by various peoples which slowly starts to decorate the rickety dorm into something interesting and unique. Jade becomes a different person as a traveler and seems to find joy in just exploring and discovering all the different ways that people create and eat and live.

After he graduates, Yuu gifts him the book that the two of them created, with pictures and descriptions of all the Night Raven College fauna and flora, their uses, if they are edible, and different recipe and potion ingredients, the regions it comes from, and even snippets of stories and memories they share.

Jade is not an emotional man, but when he asks you to come with him on his next expedition, his smile is full of joy.

Rook Hunt

“Rook, can I ask you a question?”

Rook looks down from his spot in the tree, a camera perched in his hands. “Amazing eyesight, Mon Trickster! I did not anticipate being found. Ask away, but be quick, less Roi de Lion suspects me.”

“Are there any plays or poetry books that would be good for a beginner? I read a lot back home but I know there is cultural and historical context I'm going to be missing-”

“I am so happy!” he practically drops the tree, taking both of her hands to kiss the knuckles, “I would be happy to help you. Come, come!”

Oh, they are going to the library now. Right now. Ok, Yuu should have expected that.

Rook is always excitable, but he’s mindful as well. Picking out smaller volumes at first, and adding some reference materials, putting a few back as he asks questions about what she has already read or what she typically enjoys. He also writes out a list for audio books and radio performances. Thank the Seven that Crowley finally got them a phone and they could excuse the data usage for school.

“I have the films I would be willing to lend, but I would ask you be incredibly careful.”

“Oh, I don’t have a TV or any type of DVD player at Ramshackle. We try and keep the places as authentic as possible. It helps when the ghosts come to visit on Hallow’s eve.” They don’t have wifi either and their electricity runs off a backup generator, but Yuu doesn’t mention that. They are distinctly aware of how rundown Ramshackle is, but they try not to advertise how badly.

“What dedication you have to your dorm and the history of Night Raven College. We may do so in Pomefiore!”

And that’s how they end up having movie night basically every Wednesday night, sometimes with other Pomefiore members or even Vil himself refreshing on the classics. Rook would sit close by, quietly explaining certain contexts and even joining Yuu on reading through some of the poetry books. His passion comes out more with his knowledge than his speech in those moments, and it’s...nice. Normally Rook is the most reserved person she knows. He’s family is still a mystery, but she’s learned more about his beliefs and insights into how he perceives life in general.

“This is how I met Roi de Poison, you know. He enchanted me at first sight, but his mind...he understood my passion for theater, music and beauty. He respected me, once I proved that I loved him for more than his looks and roles.”

Crazy fan he might have been in the past, it was definitely more of an equal relationship once you saw past the surface level. Yuu eventually started picking a few habits and fashion tips, slowly becoming a bit more refined. Elegant even, she might say.

When she hesitantly asks for help with other things, it's easier each time. Help with skincare routines, or experimenting with make-up, what colors work best and how silhouettes come across. It’s never been this fun to experiment with her style. It helps that Rook, while thinking certain things definitely work, will be gentle in the things that aren’t.

“They do not enhance your beauty,” he says, sounding like Vil, “And you are already magnifique.”

He is the first person that she shares her book of stories with, the precognitions that she has

“Do you think fairy tales are fiction?” He asks her, quietly skimming over the passages of Snow White. The Fairest Queen is barely mentioned, but without her, there is no story.

“Living here feels like a fairy tale, but if it is, you’ve made it a wonderful dream.”

Rook looks at her, a surprised chuckle slipping out. Before he can hide it, his nose crinkles, a smile wide enough to show his gums, and Yuu thinks it enhances all the best of him.

Vil Schoenheit

“Vil, may I ask you a question?”

“At least somebody paid attention when I went over manners. You may.” Vil says, as he adds in some sort of lilac powder. Normally, they wouldn’t have any classes together, but with Yuu acting as an ‘assistant’ towards the teachers to make extra cash, they got to see the second and third years more than even the other first years in their dorms.

“How do you make time for it all? Between the acting jobs, getting good grades in school, indulging in potionology and homebrew makeup in your limited free time, it seems like you get so much done with just as much time as the rest of us.”

“Thank you for noticing.” Vil says, looking up from his potion work. “And yes, I do keep a very organized schedule. Every minute is planned and my down time is spent decompressing efficiently.”

“Is there any articles or techniques you would recommend? Or a template you used?”

“You could just ask me for help, you know.” he retorts, huffing a bit.

“I know I could, but I also want to be respectful of what you have on your plate.”

“Ah, potato...I have plenty of time, especially in this season. I don’t schedule anything this close to finals. Come sit with me this evening for dinner and we will talk goals and progress markers. There is more to this mentally than most people think.”

Vil is a bit less than impressed when he sees just how much Yuu accomplishes for Night Raven College with no credit and makes a note to talk to the teachers and Crowley about getting her properly compensated or at least. But overall, it goes well, making time for exercise, hobbies, studies and even some time with him. Telling her about the techniques he used and actually practicing them were two different things, and some things are just easier to show rather than tell.

“Alright, let’s start here.”

Mindfulness, ironically for somebody outside Scarabina, is important to Vil. Sinking fully into the experience of his daily life, looking at all the colors, enjoying his foods with no screens, or just enjoying the quiet while he removes makeup. His decompress is like a valve that he releases in minutes throughout the day, not hours at the end of it.

“This takes practice. Don’t discourage yourself if you don’t get it every time, eventually it will come more naturally.”

And it does. Over the months, Yuu feels more productive than ever, even finding time to wonder about her own style. It is a bit embarrassing when Vil enters Ramshackle to use the Guest Room to study and sees her hastily trying to wash off eyeshadow.

“Oh, spudling, not your color. No, no, here.” He sits, and teaches, a bit harshly at times, but he wouldn’t be Vil if he wasn’t direct. Much like Riddle, he fully believes that people can reach his level, and sees no reason why they shouldn’t. And while Yuu will never be Vil pretty, she certainly feels more beautiful and confident now than she ever has before.

It isn’t until Vil is reviewing one of his performances that Yuu makes a comment, some offhand remark about the script not quite matching the vernacular expected for the period, that he invites her to sit and review more.

Yuu doesn’t think it’s anything spectular, it’s kind of obvious, but apparently it wasn’t to the rest of the audience.

Vil sits at thier usual tea table in the Night Raven Gardens, and slides a ticket over to her.

“If you have time. I know you recently picked up a few photography jobs in town that would be a shame to miss. Rapport with clients is key, you know.”

It’s the red-carpet event to a 5th year anniversary movie he did as a child. All glitz and glam, showing just how much they have grown as actors and people since their debuts. It’s a milestone even for Vil, the first and only role where he was played a supporting role that wasn’t a villain or antagonist.

“What colors are you wearing? I might have something that compliments.” Yuu asks, already going through their mind for anything suitable in Ramshackle.

“Well,” Vil preens, opening his laptop. “We will just have to buy something together to ensure we match, won’t we? When are you free?”

It’s so small Yuu almost misses it, but hidden underneath his painted blush is a heated blush, quiet and pink and delighted.

Floyd Leech

“Floyd, can I ask you a question?”

Floyd doesn’t even bother looking up from his spot at the table, “Better not be a boring question Shrimpy, or I’ll squeeze ya~”

“Where do you go to get your shoes repaired?”

His head snaps up just a bit, left eye brighter than usual.

“Ace had mentioned that your sole had torn during practice,” Yuu continues, feeling like they have to explain themselves with how intensely he was staring, “But the next day it had been stitched back on like new. There are some fantastic leather boots from the old NRC uniforms that I'd love to use, but I’m trying to find somebody who won’t butcher them or tell me they aren’t repairable just cause there old or out of style, you know?”

Floyd nods, eyes still searching before ultimately just shrugging his shoulders. “Hmmm...at least it wasn’t boring. Meet at Monstro Lounge at 6 lil’ Shrimpy, bring the shoes!”

He walks away before Yuu can even say that they have to meet with somebody else, but that really isn’t a possibility when a Leech brother has demanded your attention. Looks like you’ll have to reschedule with Deuce.

The Monstro Lounge is fairly steady, though Yuu has never seen it slow. Always some sort of deal or exclusive that sets these rich bastards running through the doors, even if it’s just so they don’t have to deal with the lines in the cafeteria or cook their own food.

Jade waves you in, taking the box from your hands in a gentlemanly manner, and leading you to the side. Floyd is quick to intercept, mumbling a thank you before his long strides leave you almost jogging.

“Alright, let’s see what we are working with.”

The dorm is clearly shared between him and Jade. Crisp white walls, a seashell and sea motif on the desk and headboard and some floating shelves that look vaguely like drift wood, exactly what she expected from Octanvinelle. But that’s about all the two sides have in common. Jade’s is organized, of course, but notable is the terrariums on the shelves and a stack of geology books tucked into the corner, along with photos of places he may have been or plans to go.

Floyd’s half is a mess, yes, but it’s organized chaos, like looking at Ace and Deuce’s dorm. High protein snacks are tucked on the shelves, completed 3D puzzles, and...fashion magazines? Huh, he did say that merpeople didn’t really have a reason to wear clothes so land peoples being so obsessed with it would be interesting, especially in different regions or cultures. And the trends are constantly changing. It actually started fitting, the more Yuu thought about it.

Floyd set the box on the desk, picking up the shoes and bending them this way and that, pressing on the heel or pinches the toe.

“You’ve taken good care of them,” He says, “The stitches are loose and the nails need to be hammered back in, but the leather is clean and strong. I’d get some new leather laces though, the wax on these has completely frayed from misuse. How old are these?”

“They're from back when Ezra and the others went to school, but they don’t have a great concept of time.” Floyd raises an eyebrow. “Oh, the ghosts at Ramshackle.”

“Huh, no wonder it felt like the place was trying to kick us out.” Floyd walks over to the walk-in closet and Yuu has to double take. She would have mistaken the closet for Jade’s! On the left, the clothes are hung neatly on the rack except for the everyday items like the basketball or school uniform which have their own spots hung neatly on the door itself. Below that are clear boxes that seem to hold all sort of tools. Are these hobbies that Floyd has picked up and gotten bored with?

But the right side of the walk in closet is just racks and racks of shoes. Wing tip dress, loafers, even a few kitten heels and red backed stiletos. All perfectly shined and displayed.

“Floyd, you repair your own shoes?” Yuu taking the box he hands her.

“When you are as tall as me and Jade, you end up having to customize and fix a lot of your own clothes, unless you wanna pay some stupid prices, and standing there while they pin and stuff is boring. I’d rather just do it myself.” He takes out a wicked looking needle and a stand, securing it to the desk with a flick of a lever. “Which pair is your size?”

“Oh, these.” she says, picking up a pair of loafers and ankle boots. “I can’t afford for you to do this for me Floyd. I don’t have the funds right now.”

He just leans against the table with a laugh, “Oh, I aint doin’ it for free. Your gonna pay me by letting me keep a pair, specifically those.”

He points to the bottom of the box, a pair of thigh high riding boots from what she can tell.

“Those are the ones in the worst shape?”

“Oh, I won’t be able to get them to their original form, but I can lengthen the sole and toe area a bit, add a heel, and have a wicked pair of thighs high stilettos that’ll have even Betta fish jealous~”

“With your legs, you’d look really good in a skirt.”

They both blink.

“Shit, sorry, my mouth ran-” Floyd laughs, something softer than usual.

“Your damn right Shrimpy.” He smiles, “I do look damn good in a skirt. I prefer dresses though.”

He takes a seat, motioning for her to take the other side, sets the shoe inside the stand, and starts explaining the process. It doesn’t always make sense but he’s clearly passionate about it.

This might be a truer version of him, Yuu thinks, seeing him carefully take out a rusted nail to pull out a fresh silver one from an even smaller box. One that isn’t bored or moody, but just...getting able to do something that actually interests him.

“Hey Floyd. Do you want to go thrifting with me and Kalim on Sunday? I think you’d have some interesting things to say about some of the finds, especially the clothes mart. They literally have a bin of vintage pieces for a dollar a piece.”

He leans back, and does that smile again. All teeth but his eyes relax, all boyishly charming.

“You got all the audacity in the world, don’t you?” He chuckles, “I’ll get my shift covered.”

#twst #twst wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #Jade Leech #Floyd Leech #vil schoenheit #Rook Hunt #twst Jade #Twst Floyd #twst vil #twst Rook #twst x reader #Rook Hunt x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader

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moonchild9350 · 3 months ago

Text

Prey

Summary: In a world where vampires and humans coexist albiet not peacefully, you come to realize everything is not as it seems after meeting Hyunjin.

Pairing: Vampire Hyunjin x fab reader

Genre: thriller, fluff, smut 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: stalking, coercion (briefly), breaking and entering?, description of blood (obviously), blood tasting, nipple play, fingering, monster fucking, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, squirting.

Notes: This is my first fic for my spooktober event! Yes this is a vampire fic. I had fun with this and added my own twists to what we know as vampires hehe so don't come after me lol. I hope you like it and it gets you into the spooky mood hehe.

If you enjoyed this, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated as they keep me motivated ♡

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

“Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking and loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true.” -Ellie Wiesel

You’ve never been afraid of the dark. You could sit in a dark space for hours, listening to the sounds around you, feeling the air move through your fingertips. No, the dark never bothered you. What you did fear was what is lurking in the shadows, creatures of your deepest nightmares watching your every move, waiting to pounce on you.

You felt like prey at night, always feeling like you were being hunted. You lived in a world that included vampires, creatures of the night mostly.

Growing up, you were told to avoid them at all costs, that they were dangerous, cunning, beings that shouldn’t walk the earth. Your mother instilled these thoughts into your head, making you promise to never associate with one of these beings.

Not wanting to upset your mother, you promised, the fear taking root deep in your core. Now as an adult, you still kept that promise. You never interacted with them, avoiding them at all costs if you could. You also made sure to be home before nightfall, afraid for what was lurking in the dark or who.

You were mindful of this fact as you prepped for the day. You needed to go to the library to work on a project for work, which would take up the majority of your day. Packing your bag, you grabbed a sweater and left, making your way to the town’s local library.

It was a cool day, autumn in full swing. The leaves were changing colors to vibrant shades of red, orange, and yellow. Some leaves already have fallen from the trees, landing on the sidewalk, the crunch echoing as you stepped on each one.

You hoped your friend had made it to the library first, making sure to get the good seats. You knew she would have a warm London fog with her, as she knew what your favorite drink was.

It didn’t take long for you to arrive, the old building looming in the center of town. You marched up the steps and opened the door, a burst of warm air enveloping you like a cozy blanket. You scanned the area, looking for your friend Aria, finding her at a desk next to one of the many windows.

She was engrossed in a book, her nose almost touching the pages. You chuckled and walked over before blowing on her face, startling her. She narrowed her eyes at you while clutching her chest, “that wasn’t very nice.”

You grinned, pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Is that for me?” You asked, hope in your eyes as you eyed the cup next to her.

“It is, although you don’t deserve it after the stunt you just pulled.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for the drink. “So dramatic. Thank you.”

Aria stuck her tongue out at you and then went back to her book, her nose once more barely touching the page.

You started to unpack and set up for the day, gazing through your list of things to do. Opening up one of the books you brought with you, you started to skim through it looking for information for your project.

You became lost in your work, the silence settling around you, the only sounds heard were the occasional rustle of paper. You were making progress, however, you needed more books as references. You signaled to Aria that you were going to go look for more books. She nodded her head and went back to reading as you got up and stretched your legs.

You walked over to the non-fiction section and started browsing the titles, looking for anything that may be useful for your project. You were so engrossed in searching that you didn’t see the man standing in the aisle, book in hand. You bumped into him causing him to drop his book, startling you.

“Oh, I’m so sor…” your words died off as you looked at the man before you.

Your breath caught as you eyed him, taking in his looks. He was tall, looming over your figure easily. His face was beautiful, reminding you of Adonis. His eyes were a dark, chocolate brown, the orbs piercing, but yet gentle. You felt lost in his gaze, as you forgot where you were, your mind going blank.

The man smiled at you, reaching out his hand to brush the hair from your face. The action made you snap out of your reverie, shaking your head to clear the fuzziness within your brain. You knew what he was, the very creature you vowed to stay away from.

“Are you ok?” The man spoke, his voice silky, smooth, and deep.

He peered down at you, holding your gaze as you tried to look anywhere but at his face. You didn’t want to engage with him and were looking for a way out. Before you could run away, the man brought his hand to your chin and had you look him in the eyes.

You tried to look away, but to no avail as he held your head steady. He looked deep into your eyes, his lips slightly parted, a grin forming on his face. You felt calm and less terrified, your body relaxing with each passing second.

“Are you ok?” The man asked again.

You shook your head as best as you could, “yes, I’m ok.”

The man smied, his dazzling teeth on display. “Good. My name is Hyunjin. What’s your name gorgeous?”

You intently listened as Hyunjin spoke to you, eager to hear more of his voice. Clearing your throat, you replied, “Y/n.”

Hyunjin hummed in acknowledgment. “Such a pretty name. Fitting for such a pretty girl.”

You leaned more into his touch, wanting to be as close as possible to this man. However, something felt off, but you couldn’t place your finger on what. With much difficulty, you searched your brain, trying to understand why the interaction felt off.

Hyunjin continued to look into your eyes, his face searching yours for any clue as to what you were thinking about. With sudden clarity, you understood why things felt off. He had you under his charm. Yes, that was it. You could vaguely sense a different scent than before, the smell of bergamot and patchouli gracing your senses.

You focused on this thought deep within, trying to break through his spell. It was difficult as he was a vampire so to say, their spells not easy to break for the average human. However, you fought hard, willing yourself to unleash yourself from his charm so you could run away.

Suddenly, you felt like yourself again and with a breath, slapped his hand away, shock gracing his beautiful features.

“Get your hands off me,” you said, your eyes laced with fear but also anger.

Hyunjin stared at you in shock and slight awe. You were actually able to break his charm. No one has ever done so, not in his hundreds of years roaming this earth. He already thought you were beautiful, your calm demeanor sparking a flame within him he hasn’t felt in centuries. But now? He was fascinated and he wasn’t going to forget you anytime soon.

He watched as you turned on your heels and quickly walked away back to your friend, your strong scent of lavender and honey lingering in your wake. He quickly said a quick spell, satisfied once he was done. Your paths would cross again, sooner rather than later if he had any say.

Adjusting the ring on his finger, he made to leave, slowly strolling out of the library into the night air.

You made it back to your table, pulling out your chair and sitting down. You tried to catch your breath as you held a hand to your chest, feeling the rapid pounding of your heart. What the hell just happened you wondered. Did you really just cross paths and actually interact with a vampire?

You were terrified. You hoped to never see him again. Surely you won’t right? You were lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear Aria call your name. Snapping your head up, you looked at your friend.

“Are you alright?” She asked as she looked at you anxiously. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Close to it you thought. “I’m fine. Just…saw a rat and ran away.”

“Ewww, really?! I would have screamed.” Aria said, none the wiser to your lie.

She went back to her book, not paying you any more attention. You attempted to continue to work on your project, however, your mind was preoccupied. You couldn’t get Hyunjin out of your head.

You knew vampires were gorgeous, their beauty being one of the points that lured unsuspecting humans into their grasps, but you didn’t think they could look that beautiful. Your mind was all over the place, not able to focus on the task in front of you.

Finally givng up, you decided to pack up and go home. You explained to Aria that you were leaving. She merely waved you away.

“Text me when you get home,” she said, not looking up from her book.

Grabbing your bag, you made to leave. You cautiously walked into the night, the darkness settling in around you. You had stayed longer than you had liked. Not many people were out and about, as it was late. You listened to your surroundings, the occasional hoot from an owl reaching your ears.

The moon was bright, casting a glow to illuminate your way. You hummed a song as you continued to walk home, feeling at ease for the first time since you had that chance encounter, given the circumstances.

You were almost home when you felt odd, your senses tingling, as if someone was watching you. You looked around you, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Seeing nothing, you shrugged your shoulders and continued on your way. You did not see the figure lurking in the shadows, watching as you made your way home.

It didn’t take much longer to get home, your apartment being a short distance from the library. You walked up the steps to your door and stopped in your tracks. Lying delicately on your doormat was a kadupul flower, in full bloom.

You quickly looked around, looking to see who could have left such a flower at your door. You felt uneasy. Picking up the flower, you unlocked your door and quickly slipped inside, latching the deadbolt in place. You looked at the flower in your hand, the rich, white petals in full bloom.

You walked over to your sink, and found a vase, filling it with water and setting the flower inside. You made your way to your bathroom to shower, trying not to think about the odd events of the day. You walked through your night routine and once finished, slid into bed.

Turning off the lights, you laid underneath the covers, staring at the wall. You tried not to think of Hyunjin, as you willed sleep to come. It must have worked, because before you knew it, you dozed off, succumbing to sleep.

As you slumbered, a figure loomed over you, watching as you slept peacefully. Hyunjin was happy you accepted his flower, bidding him to come inside your house. After all, it was one of the ways vampires were granted entrance into someone’s home.

Now that he is able to come inside, he can watch over you more closely, get to know you, your routine, and if he plays his cards right, you’ll be his before the end of the fortnight. For now, however, he’ll watch over you tonight, and make sure you have sweet dreams.

The next morning, you awoke feeling oddly refreshed. The sun was shining, you could tell as the rays threatened to break through your curtains that you had closed. You stretched and got up to begin your morning routine. Your day wasn’t terribly busy, only having to go into the office briefly to meet with one of your colleagues regarding the project.

You happily sipped at your coffee as you read your book, the events of last night forgotten. Now that you think about it, you had pleasant dreams too, which was a nice change from the typical nightmares you usually get. You didn’t dwell on the thought too long however. You were just happy to finally get some sleep.

The time came when it was time for you to meet your colleague, so you fixed your hair and grabbed your bag, before making your way outdoors. The walk was pleasant, the warm sun gently warming your skin. You smiled, feeling truly happy.

Now that made you think, as you haven’t felt true happiness in a while. It was sad to even have to consider why you felt happy. Maybe you shared a funny joke with Aria or had a great conversation with your family on the phone that you can’t remember. Neither option seemed right however.

You felt confused, a frown slowly gracing your features. You felt like a part of your memory was gone and you weren’t sure why.

Hyunjin watched you from afar, the spell he placed on you yesterday at the library alerting him whenever you left the house. He followed you as you walked to your destination. You seemed happy enough. It didn’t seem like you remembered him or your encounter yesterday.

However, your demeanor changed, your stride slowing, a frown appearing on your beautiful face. You seemed lost in thought. He didn’t approve of your anxiety and confusion. He wanted you to be happy. The other spell he casted over you last night must already be wearing off sooner than usual.

Maybe he needs to back off a little, let you get back into your daily routine. Hyunjin did not want to mess this opportunity up. He’s already told the others about you. They are very eager to meet the mysterious human that has preoccupied their friend.

Yes, he will back off. He will let you go about your life and then when you least expect it, re-approach you. He is certain he will succeed at his next attempt to make you his.

Your days passed quietly, nothing out of the ordinary occurring. You filled your days by going to work and back home and occasionally going to the library to continue working on your project. You met with Aria a few more times, grabbing coffee or food depending on how much time you both had.

You had just arrived home after a long day at the office. You were more than ready to relax, ready to binge watch your favorite show while stuffing your face with pizza. Once you placed your order and changed into more comfortable clothes, you made up your home on the couch for the next few hours.

However, you happened to look over and notice the flower, still in its vase from a week ago. Who gave that to you again? You couldn’t remember. Shrugging, you decided to toss it, as the flower was shriveled up and appeared to be dead. Once you were done, you sat down and flipped the tv on, pulling up your show.

You were already an episode in when you heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was your pizza, you skipped happily to the door and swung it open, ready to greet the pizza delivery person.

Instead of pizza however, there was a dozen of the same flower that you just threw away. Startled, you looked up, looking this way and that to see if whoever left them were still around. Nightfall had fallen, quiet had descended upon your town.

A shiver went down your spine, unease settling in within you. You noticed a note on top of the flowers. Picking up the square piece of paper, you unfolded it and read what was written inside:

Time may pass but you become ever more beautiful. Await me my love for we shall be reunited soon.

Now you were scared. There was no signature indicating who left the note. It was handwritten in beautiful script, the words written carefully upon the piece of paper. You needed to get back into the comfort of your home and it needed to happen now.

Against better judgment, you picked up the flowers and brought them inside. You filled the vase with fresh water once more and set them inside. You stared at the flowers, not yet in bloom. You placed the note next to the vase.

You could feel your senses go into overdrive as your body went into fight or flight mode. You became aware of every sound around you, listening for a potential intruder after this strange event. You jumped when you heard another knock on your door, hearing the person on the other side say ‘delivery.’

Taking a few deep breaths, you made your way back to your door, unlocking it to take the pizza. You thanked the man and closed the door, once more in the safety of your home. You made sure the door was bolted before sitting down on your couch.

You weren’t really hungry anymore, too on edge after finding the bouquet of flowers. You turned to look at them, letting out a gasp as the flowers had since bloomed. They sat within the vase, an ethereal look to them as the petals lay spread out. You sat in shock, just staring at the flowers, not noticing there was another presence in the room.

Far too late, you turned your head to notice a man sitting next to you. You let out a scream, the color draining from your face. You cowered in the corner of the couch, your muscles tense and ready to run at moments notice. When did he get in here? Something about him seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place where you had first seen him.

“Hi angel,” the man said as he looked you in the eyes.

You let out the breath you were holding, your body relaxing little by little as you stared at the man in front of you, a feeling of calm spreading throughout your body.

“Do you remember me?”

You started at the man, your mind a jumbled mess as you tried to make out the situation. A strange man somehow broke into your house and is now sitting in front of you asking if you remember him. You felt strange on top of that, oddly calm given the situation.

“I see you got my flowers. They look beautiful just like you love.”

You struggled with your conscience, trying to overcome this fog that was placed over you. You looked in horror as the man scooted closer to you and gently grabbed your face. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your vision blurring as you felt tears prickle the corners of your eyes.

You fought internally with yourself, trying to break through the fog. As you struggled, the man was leaning closer and closer to you as though he was going to kiss you. You closed your eyes at the last second, squeezing them shut. You felt his soft and pillowy lips brush yours.

You needed to wake up now, or who knows what will happen. At this, you felt the fog lift, your mind clear once more. You screamed and scrambled back as far as you could go away from the man.

He stared back at you, his hand in midair as if he was still holding your face.

“Angel, don’t be afraid.” He said.

“Who are you? How’d you get in here? I didn’t give you permission to come in!” You all but screamed.

The man in front of you sighed. “Perhaps I left you alone for too long. My name is Hyunjin. We’ve met before.”

He stared at you long and hard as his words sank in. You looked terrified, your body shaking in fear. He didn’t want you to be afraid. He wanted you to feel at ease around him, he wanted you to want him, to be his.

“You brought the flowers inside your house. They have a spell on them, one that grants me entrance to wherever the flowers reside.”

You listened to every word he said, fear still coursing through your body.

“Why? Why me?” You said, your voice shaking with each word.

You tried to take deep breaths, as you felt dizzy, feeling like you were going to pass out.

“Please, angel. Don’t be afraid. We are meant to be. Let me show you. Please.”

Hyunjin had a pleading look on his face. He made no further move to get closer to you, respecting the distance placed between you two.

“You’re a vampire. How are we meant to be? I’m a human.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Hyunjin looked sad, his eyes falling at your denial of his advances.

“If I can show you how we were meant to be, will you accept me? One night, that’s all I ask angel.”

You looked at Hyunjin, really looked at him, searching his face for any deceit. He was a vampire after all. You thought long and hard, as the shock of a strange man in your home wore off. He’s a vampire, he can’t be trusted. He just wants to use you and once he’s done, he’ll kill you.

Why trust him? Yes he was staring at you with his beautiful eyes, but you didn’t want that to distract you from the fact that he just cannot be trusted.

“Please angel,” he pleaded once more.

You considered his plea once more. You were about to make a dumb mistake, but before you could change your mind, your mouth opened forming the words ‘yes.’

Hyunjin smiled at you, his brilliant teeth glowing in the low lighting. “Excellent! I will pick you up tomorrow night.”

He quickly got up and walked over to you. You tried to scoot back but found you had nowhere to go. You froze in place as Hyunjin approached you and grabbed your face once more. He slowly leaned down before pressing his lips to yours in a brief kiss. Before letting you go, he nipped at your lip, pulling at the flesh before standing up.

“Get some rest angel, you will need it.”

With that Hyunjin was gone, disappearing in thin air. You were shocked, your eyes never leaving the place where he was standing just moments before. You reached up and touched your lips. Did that really happen? Are you really going to give a vampire a chance?

You knew your mother would be disappointed if she were she alive. Oh well however, the deeds been done. Tomorrow your fate would be sealed.

The next day, you were anxious, your hands slightly trembling, your mind unfocused. You didn’t know what to expect tonight and that was driving you insane. You paced the floors, unable to sit still for too long.

What were you expected to wear? You didn’t think to ask that last night. On top of the anxiety, you were scared. What if he killed you once he was done showing you whatever he wanted to show you? Your mind was riddled with thoughts, none of them the typical thoughts you’d have before a date.

As dusk approached, the orange and pink sky showing through your windows, you decided to get ready. Somehow you knew exactly which outfit you wanted to wear. You chose a white dress with cross ties in the front. The hem of the dress had asymmetrical ruffles. You thought it would be a perfect contrast to going out with a creature of the night.

You did your makeup and lightly curled your hair. Spritzing some of your favorite perfume, you were ready for whatever the night brings.

You heard a soft ruffle behind you and you turned around in shock. Standing before you was Hyunjin. He was dressed nicely, making him look even more handsome. He eyed your outfit, a smile slowing forming on his face.

“You look gorgeous angel,” he purred reaching a hand out towards you.

You took his hand and watched as he placed a soft kiss on your hand, his lips lingering for a few moments. You felt yourself blush, the heat rising to your face.

“Ready?” He asked as he straightened up.

You shook your head yes, ready for whatever he had in store. Hyunjin smiled at you and took your hand, his fingers gently lacing with yours. He led the way, out the door, down the steps, and onto the sidewalk. The night air felt nice on your skin, feeling warm enough to where you didn’t need a sweater.

The moon was bright and hanging perfectly in the sky, no clouds around to dampen its light. Hyunjin led you along the streets, walking in stride with you. You were lost in thought, lost in the man next to you when you felt a squeeze of your hand.

You looked at Hyunjin before looking to where he was pointing to.

“Here we are,” he said as he stopped in front of a building.

It seemed old, the style outdated. There was a soft glow from within, seeming inviting. You swallowed nervously. This is it, you thought, this is where I die. You followed Hyunjin as he led you to the door. Grasping the handle, he twisted the knob before the door swung open.

He stepped inside, pulling you along. The interior of the building was breath taking. The architecture was old but warm, definitely from another time period. The furniture reminded you of the 1800s, screaming old money.

Hyunjin could see the curiosity and awe on your face. He smiled to himself, happy that you didn’t seem taken aback. This was to be your home shortly after all.

“This was my parents house,” he said, as he guided you through the house.

You were looking this way and that, taking in the various rooms that you passed by. His parent’s house? Where were they now you wondered. You knew vampires lived for a very long time. Would you get to meet them tonight?

Sensing your unease, Hyunjin squeezed your hand as he stopped before a door. “They died long ago, murdered by humans.”

You gasped, not knowing what to say. After a while you opened your mouth to speak, “I’m sorry.”

Hyunjin merely shook his head. “It was centuries ago.”

You nodded and held your breath as he opened the door. Inside the room was a dining table, set up for two. Candles lit the room, the shadows from the flames dancing along the walls.

Hyunjin walked you to a chair and pulled it out, gesturing for you to sit. You did as you were told, tucking your dress underneath you as you sat. He effortlessly tucked your chair in before rounding the corner and sitting down next to you.

He clapped his hands and food appeared, your plate piled high with delicate foods. You were shocked, your mouth hanging open. You looked up as you heard Hyunjin chuckle.

“Easy to do angel, with a spell.”

You simply nodded your head. Of course, he could do anything.

“Dig in angel. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Hyunjin watched you as you cautiously took your fork and grabbed a piece of food. He watched as you brought the food to your succulent lips, the flesh wrapping around the utensil.

He smiled as you groaned, savoring the food on your tongue. You ate in fervor, not realizing how hungry you were. You looked up at Hyunjin and noticed he wasn’t eating.

“Are you not eating?” You asked, setting down your fork in embarrassment.

Hyunjin waved your concern away. “I cannot eat human food.”

As he said this, he looked at you, a smirk forming on his face.

You gulped. Of course vampires couldn’t eat human food. You didn’t want to think what this meant for you.

“Eat, it’s ok you eat,” Hyunjin said with a smile.

You nodded your head and picked up your fork once more. You finished off the rest of the food, your belly full and happy. Hyunjin nodded in satisfaction once you finished, snapping his fingers, the dishes clearing away immediately.

He got up and reached out to you, grasping your hand in his. You followed him as he led you out of the dining room and up the stairs. You held your breath as you ascended the beautiful staircase, unsure of what was to come. Where was Hyunjin leading you now?

“Here we are,” Hyunjin said as he led you to a room just off the stairs. He opened the door and allowed you to walk in first.

The room was beautiful, filled with ornate furniture. There was a little sitting area near the window, the night air filtering through the open window. In the center of the room there was a canopy bed that looked warm and inviting. You turned to Hyunjin, a questioning look in your eye.

He grinned and took your hand once more, guiding you to the sitting area. You sat on the couch, unsure of where to look, what to say. Hyunjin sat next to you and brushed the back of his hand across your cheek.

You blushed and shivered at his touch. You felt something stir within you. Yes, you knew Hyunjin was no good for you, a vampire, a creature you cannot trust, but your mind and body had other plans.

You looked into Hyunjin’s eyes, your heart rapidly beating within your chest. Hyunjin smiled at you before leaning forward, causing you to lay back on the couch. He brushed your hair to the side before placing his lips on yours.

You couldn’t help but sigh at the kiss, your hands reaching up hesitantly to wrap around his neck. Hyunjin continued to gently kiss you, his lips molding with yours with ease. His lips felt like heaven, nice and soft against yours.

You felt Hyunjin’s lips tip up in a smile. “Finally, you are mine angel,” he purred before kissing your jaw, the underside of your neck before he latched onto your sweet spot below your ear.

You let out a low moan as he nipped and sucked the area, his tongue lashing out to soothe the skin every now and then. You felt like you were floating, becoming lost in Hyunjin’s kisses. You closed your eyes and relaxed further into the couch, your fingers playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

Without warning, you felt a sharp prick, a yelp leaving your mouth as your eyes flew open. Hyunjin bit you, his teeth still lodged within your neck. He was going to feed from you, the shock from the realization causing your to panic. You tried to move away, but found you could not, your body paralyzed beneath the man above you.

However, before you could further protest, you felt a warm sensation travel throughout your body, down your arms, settling in your fingertips, down your legs settling in your toes, down your belly before settling in your core, arousal flooding your panties and soaking the material through.

You arched into Hyunjin, clinging onto him even tighter as he fed from you, the feeling of ecstasy becoming stronger with each passing moment. Hyunjin let out a growl before sitting up, blood smeared over his lips, his fangs still bared and bloody.

“You taste amazing angel, just like I thought. You felt good too? I know you did.” He cooed.

You did feel good, the feeling still lingering even after he detached himself from you. Your body felt like it was on autopilot, needing more from Hyunjin. You opened your legs more, allowing Hyunjin to slot himself more comfortably between your legs.

He grinned at your eagerness before he slid the straps of your dress down, your breasts on display. His fingers brushed lightly over your nipples, the buds instantly peaking between the cold air coming through the window and his touch. You mewled out as he leaned down to suckle your nipple, his tongue flicking against the nub.

Hyunjin loved your body, your beautiful breasts fitting perfectly in his mouth. He suckled your nipple, his hand massaging your other breast. He let out a groan at the sound of your voice, whimpering his name, telling him not to stop. He was ready to make you his.

With a pop, he let go of your nipple and sat up. With a snap of his fingers, his clothes disappeared, a chuckle leaving his lips at your shock.

Hyunjin’s body was beautiful. He was toned, his muscles flexing with every movement he made. Your eyes traveled down, down until they landed on the hard appendage between his thighs. His cock was pretty, the prettiest you’ve ever seen, the perfect length and girth, his tip leaking with precum.

You watched as he pushed up your dress, bunching the material at your waist, his eyes snapping to your dripping core. You heard him mutter something under his breath in a language you didn’t know, watching as he slid his finger between your folds. You moaned as he circled your clit, applying pressure to the bud occasionally.

“You’re soaking angel. All for me hmm? You’re mine right?” Hyunjin asked, his eyes searching yours for the answer.

“I’m yours Hyunjin,” you whimpered, finally succumbing to the man.

Hyunjin smiled, letting out a breath at the words he’s been waiting to hear since he met you. Grabbing his cock, he brought it to your folds, pressing the tip within your tiny hole. He watched your face, pleasure taking over as he pushed inch by inch in.

With one final push, he bottomed out, the stretch causing you to yelp from the pain. You reached out to push against him, silently begging him to stop. Hyunjin just grinned and took your hands in his, bringing them up and above your head. With a chaste kiss to your lips he thrusted his hips against yours, dragging his cock through your warm walls.

The pleasure was overwhelming, his cock hitting your spot just right. You loved his weight on top of you, cradling you beneath him as he rhythmically slid his cock in and out, in and out. You felt Hyunjin drop his head into the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin as he breathed.

You squeezed his hands and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him ever closer to you. The new position allowed his cock to reach deeper within your walls, his tip kissing your cervix. You mewled out as you felt your high approaching.

Hyunjin groaned as he felt your pussy clench around him, keeping him within your walls. He fit perfectly within you, just as he thought. You were made for him. He felt the sweat off his forehead and land on you, his pleasure building with each stroke.

He needed you to cum with him, like he needed air to breathe. As he continued to thrust into you, he bared his fangs once more before sinking his teeth once more within your neck. You howled at the pain before succumbing to the pleasure as he fed from you.

He couldn’t get enough of you, as you were perfect. He felt you stiffen beneath him and with a cry, you squirted around his cock, your arousal coating his pelvis and dripping onto the couch below. The feeling of your pussy fluttering around him caused tip over the edge, spurt after spurt of his warm cum filling up walls.

You felt full and satisfied, as you came down from your high. You winced as you felt Hyunjin withdraw his teeth, before he pressed his lips against yours. You could taste the metallic taste of your blood, causing you to groan as you tightened your hold around him.

You felt like you could lay here and kiss him forever, your worries forgotten, the world forgotten as you laid in the little cocoon that was Hyunjin. Hyunjin gave you one more kiss before sitting up and slowly withdrawing his softening cock. He couldn’t help but watch his cum spill from your pussy, the sight beautiful to his eyes. It meant that you were his, finally his.

“Let me run a bath,” Hyunjin said, getting up from the couch.

You laid there beneath the windows, the moonlight shining through, awaiting Hyunjin to come back for you. It didn’t take him long as he was back within a few minutes. He carefully picked you up and carried you to the large in suite bathroom.

You felt sleepy as Hyunjin carefully washed your body, the scent of cherry blossoms filing in the air. You could hear him hum a song, the melody soft and sweet, almost like a lullaby. Once he was done washing you, he carefully brought you back to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed. He quickly dried you off and slipped a shirt over your head before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You grinned at the small sign of affection, reaching out to him with your arms, wanting to feel close. Hyunjin chuckled before picking you up once more. He placed you beneath the warm covers before sliding in next to you.

You snuggled up next to him, resting your head on his chest. There was no heartbeat, nothing present to let you know he was a human. You couldn’t help but feel attached, needing to be close to Hyunjin at all times. If this is what it felt like being with a vampire, then you didn’t mind, you actually wanted it, craved it.

He was yours, just as you were his. You snuggled closer as he whispered sweet nothings, his hands smoothing down your hair, his fingertips lightly brushing against your back.

“I love you angel.” Hyunjin whispered, kissing your hair as you drifted off to sleep.

You mumbled incoherent words, hoping the three little words were audible to Hyunjin.

You never were afraid of the dark, never fearing the darkness that covered the land each day. Maybe what lurked in the dark wasn’t so bad either. Maybe what lurked in the dark was what you were looking for all along.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @seungfl0wer

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erwinsvow · 11 months ago

Text

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

summary: how you and rafe got started <3

author's note: if i could stop losing my brain cells over rafe cameron for a minute that would be great but i can't so here it is <3 this is mostly cute but in the shea cinematic universe this establishes the beginning of what can only be a hopelessly codependent relationship <3 more parts to come! also none of this would be written without the surge of inspo i get from reading every single one of @princessbrunette's posts but in particular this one, this one, and this<3 one!

now spinning: one of the girls by the weeknd & jennie

Rafe’s always thought you were cute.

Cute, he’d think to himself in passing, on a hot summer day when he was getting ready to take beers from the fridge and go find the boys at the country club. He didn’t need to steal anything, the waitress at the club always gave him whatever drink he asked for, but he just felt like taking them from the house today.

You were dawdling around the house with a bored Sarah, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Sarah was texting on her phone, likely engaging in a virtual fight with Topper. He’d feel bad, but the two of them did it to themselves. You were at the counter with Wheezie, leaning on your elbows while the two of you discussed something. He didn’t really care, until he met your eyes for a second.

Cute. The way you met his eyes and then looked away, face heating up. You were in a bikini and a coverup, probably waiting for his sister before spending the day on the beach or at the pool. The cover up was white and see through, covering everything to the point where no one could see anything but the faint yellow of your bikini underneath.

Leaning on the counter, when you looked away, he got a glimpse into the top of your dress. He could make out little yellow flowers on the material of your bikini and the outline of your tits squeezed against each other.

He grabbed a beer and opened it with his back tooth, spitting the cap out on the counter next to Wheezie’s book.

“Ew, Rafe, get your spit molecules away from my book.”

“Who reads in the summer anyways? You should be glad for my spit if it makes you stop.”

“It’s my summer reading, Rafe, not everyone can just skip their assignments and get away with it.”

“Please, what have I skipped?”

You and Wheezie turn to look at each other and start laughing. He cracks a smile too, unexpectedly.

“Actually, it’s a great book. You’re missing out, Rafe,” you say, with a smile gracing your face, and he realizes he’s never actually heard the sound of your voice. You’ve maybe said hi to him twice, and both times Sarah had dragged you away within seconds. You even sound cute. His name on your tongue sounds even cuter.

“Really? Maybe I need to give it a try.” You laugh again, meeting his eyes this time.

“You can’t have my copy, I already put my annotations in this one-“

“Stop yapping, Wheeze. I’m not gonna take yours.”

“Actually you have a copy in the library upstairs. I borrowed it last summer.”

“Really, kid? Wanna come find it with me?”

Your face heats up so much you turn away. He smiles then, and he smiles again when you follow him up to the library.

“This one is fantastic too, it’s about this young girl in England-” your voice continues to describe the plot of the book in your hand. You shelve it and then your eyes immediately land on another, another classic, another favorite. You ramble off the description but Rafe’s hardly paying attention.

He’s trying to recall when you had become so cute, so pretty. He thinks he’s never noticed you after you walk away with Sarah, or when he walks away from you two lounging on pool chairs, your nose in a book like always.

This is different. When had you become so irresistible?

Your pretty hair falls down your back. It sticks to your neck when the two of you are outside in the sun, in the heat. He has an urge to lick the sweat off just to see how you’d blush and feel how you’d squirm. Your eyes are warm and bright, but you’re still too shy to meet his blue ones, even when it’s just the two of you.

And it has been. Just the two of you, recently, almost all of the time. Sarah’s always off with her stupid friends and Wheeze is at home doing her summer work.

The two of you travel to every ice cream parlor in the eight in the next few weeks. Conversation comes easily, even though you have nothing in common. He hasn’t picked up a bag from his dealer since he started talking to you, he realizes. Hasn’t felt the need to get high.

You’ve never even smoked weed, much less snorted coke. You’ll drink at a party with Sarah, but not too much, and you always end up being the sober friend holding back the vomiting girl’s hair. At the bonfire that he invites you to, your eyes keep darting around, seeing if anyone needs your help.

Rafe moves so he’s standing right in front of you, blocking your view.

“Hey, kid,” he says quietly, leaning in. You’re boxed in, with Rafe and only Rafe on your mind. The clean, attractive scent of his cologne. The way it lingers on his clothes, like the button up you’re wearing over your pink dress.

He picks up the red cup in your hand and places it on the log beside you, balancing his beer next to it. His hands are cold from the bottle but you don’t mind much. He takes your wrists first, holding them in place, and then slides down so your hands are touching.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You were looking down at the hands, where the two of you were connected, but his voice makes you look up. He’s looking at you, and you want to hide your face. Your fingers twitch beneath Rafe’s grip. He holds on even tighter. “Don’t look away, princess. We gotta work on that, huh?”

You feel your face heating up at the nickname. You wish you were home so you could scream into your pillow.

“Sorry, sorry,” you scramble, trying to look up but you can’t find the strength or the will.

You’re embarrassed. Of course you are—this is Rafe, and you’re just you. Rafe is the one you’ve had a crush on since you knew what crushes were, and you are still the awkward little thing you were the first time you met him.

His gaze burning holes through you makes you want to run and hide. Because this is Rafe, and right now you’re one of his girls. The ones Sarah’s complained about the whole time she’s known you—they get too attached, act all clingy, and then are replaced before long.

You hear Rafe’s quiet laughter. You’re still boxed in, feeling hot and clammy even though he’d given you his button up not thirty minutes ago because you felt cold.

“What’re you saying sorry for?” You look up quickly, and then look back down. Then Rafe’s hands leave yours, and he holds up your chin until you’re looking right into his eyes. “Hmm?”

You feel like puking.

“I-I just, well I just-”

“You just what?”

“I don’t think I can be, um, be one of your flingy, uh fling-type girls. So, you know, maybe all of this isn’t a good idea.”

“Fling-type girls?” he questions. He’s holding back a laugh, which makes you irrationally upset. You shove hard against his chest to free yourself from the cage of his arms.

“Yes, your fling-type girls. You have a new girl on your arm every week, and everyone knows it, and I refuse to be one of them, because it’s just embarrassing and dehumanizing,” he watches you ramble on. He smiles, but you don’t notice. “And frankly, I deserve better than that.”

“Are you done?” You glare back at him.

“Yes, and not because you said that. I was done anyway.”

“Good.” Your face drops for a second, thinking you overstepped and totally overreached regarding his intentions, but then Rafe surprises you—he leans in and kisses you.

You weren’t expecting a playground peck, but the way he’s kissing you completely surpasses any and all expectations (and fantasies) you’d dreamt up. His grip on your hips is hard, and his tongue is almost down your throat. It’s messy, and wet, and when he pulls away, there’s strings of spit connecting you to each other.

You should wipe your mouth before anyone sees, but you don’t. Your heart is racing, and you can barely speak, much less move.

“If I wanted you to be one of my girls, I wouldn’t have spent the last three weeks listening to you blab about books and buying you ice cream. You’re gonna be my only girl, and that’s that, okay?”

You nod dumbly—words and motions still not quite back yet. You feel flushed. People’s eyes are on you both.

“Now, do you wanna head out and go get a cone?” You nod again. “Good girl. And watch your mouth.”

#eeeeeee #im so nervous about this #anyways if you liked it lmk <3 #the characterization is hard fdsjnajfnj #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks

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birdiewritessometimes · 2 months ago

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hii looooved the mattheo riddle fic any chance u cld plsssss do more bc i’m obsessed. like mattheo riddle x harry’s twin sister or smth would EAT

All His

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you so much for reading and liking my mattheo fic <3 thank you so much for this request, i hope you liked it <3

I used some promts for this writing, one was from @thepromptswhisperer 's "you're blushing" promts and the others were from @stormyskies-writes 's spicy romance promts. These really helped me with the banter for this story and these two have really good prompts if yall might need/want some prompts for your own stories <3

Also, i'm sorry Mattheo isn't as soft in this one, i tried something different and i hope you like it. I will probably write more of soft!matty because he is a cutie.

Also, also, I'm sorry for any mistakes i might have made, I usually come back to my stories a couple of days later with fresh eyes hihi <3

Also request something if you want to!

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Potter!reader

Themes/warnings: Cursing, slight suggestive, slight enemies to lovers but not really, bickering, so much bickering, McLaggen (he's a warning in himself really)

Word count: 4000 - ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

It has been about a month since the school year started at Hogwarts. It was colder, leaves changing colour for green to yellow to orange. The familiar cold breeze sweeping through the castle, signalling that autumn really was here. Thankfully there were fires scattered around the castle to keep its inhabitants warm. You were sitting by one of these fires in the library. Its flames effectively warming you from the cold that was seeping through the stonewalls. You were working on an essay for your defence against the dark arts class. It was about sirens. You found the subject intriguing, aquatic life had always interested you, but you couldn’t for the life of you concentrate on your work. Your brother and his friend had joined you and Hermione but instead of studying they were glaring and huffing at a table all the way across the library. The table in question were occupied by a group of Slytherin boys notorious for picking fights with Harry and Ron. At what seemed like their hundred huff you lost your calm, feeling extremely annoyed by their disruptions.

“Really, boys just study instead of making googly eyes at the Slytherins.” You said with an eyeroll. “Or at least shut up.” You snapped. Harry rolled his eyes at your attitude, he was quite used to your attitude, having the privilege to grow up with it since he was your twin.

“We weren’t-” Ron started to defend himself, but you interrupted.

“I must admit, Mattheo is quite cute under all that annoying personality,” You sighed as you cast a glance at the brunette that was chatting casually to his friends, he was a picture of relaxed arrogance as he leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, “but I didn’t think he was your type.” Harry made a face of disgust at your admission which you replied with a glare.

“Y/n, you can’t be serious? Riddle?” Harry said with that disgust distinguishable in his voice.

“I didn’t say I wanted his babies now did I, Harry?” You rolled your eyes at your brother.

“I don’t care who wants whose babies, just shut up.” Hermione hissed annoyed before she turned back to her own essay. You and Harry sent glares at each other, those types of glares only siblings seemed to be able to muster. Turning back to your essay you read through it. You noticed that you could add some facts to the last part of your text. To do that you needed a new book: An advanced guide to aquatic dangers. With a sigh you rose from your, the wooden chair creaking at your movement.

“Oi, where are you going?” Ron asked, accusingly, almost like he thought you were going over to the Slytherins. He eyed you suspiciously, making you roll your eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Relax Ron, I’m just going to get another book.” You said with a tired voice. You walked slowly through the old library, wooden floorboards creaking under your shoes as you browsed the shelves that held the books on water-beings. There was an unbelievable number of books on the subject, but you needed just one. Searching what you thought was your 50th bookshelf you finally found the book you were looking for. It was in a hidden corner near the table of boys your brother and friend had glared at moments earlier. As you reached for it you noticed that it was placed higher than you thought. You tried to reach it a couple of times to no avail. As you let out a groan of frustration a hand shot out from behind you, easily grabbing it. Another hand was braced on the shelf in front of you. It was adorned by two silver rings, one on the index with a serpent on it, and the other was a signet ring on the pinkie with the initials M.R. You swallowed quickly before turning around, coming face to, well, chest with the Slytherin you just referred to as ‘cute’. He still had the book in his hand, a smirk on his face and he leaned into the hand on the shelf, effectively invading you personal space even more. His presence wrapping around you like a warm blanket shielding you from the coldness of the castle.

“Reading up on your ancestry, Potter?” He asked with a smirk as he gestured to the sketched siren on the cover of the book. You narrowed your eyes at him confused, did he just complement you or insult you?

“Are you insulting me or complementing me, Riddle?” You couldn’t help but ask, your eyes still scanning him suspiciously.

“Isn’t that the same thing for you?” He answered, a cheeky grin on his face, “Hateful comments seem to be the way to your heart, Potter.” You sighed and rolled your eyes at the boy, was he always this annoying? You couldn’t believe you’d just called him cute. You wished you could take it back. Mattheo was quite the flirt with the girls of the school, but his latest target seemed to be you. It didn’t seem like it mattered what you threw back at him, he would always turn it into some weird way of flirting.

“Thinking of how much you want kiss me, Potter?” He interrupted your train of thought with a smirk, leaning in closer into your space, you could smell him now, he smelled good rich, but you would never admit that out loud.

“In your dreams, Riddle.” You huffed in feign annoyance, you would never admit it, but you quite enjoyed the back and forth between the two of you. If he wasn’t known for being a ladies man you might’ve considered going out with him, regardless of what your brother thought of him. It wasn’t a secret that Harry and Mattheo didn’t like each other. This was also a reason why you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why he had set his sights on you.

“Oh, trust me darling, in my dreams we do way more that just kiss.” He said while wiggling his eyebrows at you with a suggestive grin. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks in embarrassment from his insinuation.

“You’re blushing.” He said as he poked your cheek with a chuckle.

“Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?” You asked sarcastically, rolling your eyes for good measure. He chuckled at that and handed you the book he was still holding.

“Always a pleasure, Potter.” He said, finally stepping away from you, cold air engulfed you when he pulled away, his hand falling to his side.

“I wish I could say the same, but I don’t think you’re capable of making a woman feel pleasure.” You said, you gave the boy a wink before turning on your heel, walking back to your table. You could feel your heart calming down as you neared your table as you weaved in and out of shelves on your way back. Sitting down on the uncomfortable wooden chair you gently placed the book on the table.

“What the hell took you so long?” Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“The book was just hard to find.” You said swiftly, you dared to cast a quick glance at the table across the library. He was already staring at you, his gaze was tracing your form, something alike hunger behind his eyes. You quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring by Harry or Ron. The rest of the evening you glanced over at him now and then. He was already looking at you every time. The look on his face unreadable but his eyes still had that hungry look. As the autumn weather really made its home on the grounds the lessons progressed. You had scored an ‘outstanding’ on your essay by Professor Snape. You were thinking about it late one evening around two weeks after your study session in the library.

You couldn’t sleep, which is how you ended up in the kitchens, a mug of warm milk in your hands. You were glad that it was a weekend, meaning that you didn’t have to be up early for classes. Your mind drifted from your grade on your essay to the boy who had helped you reach the book which had helped you. He continued to shamelessly flirt with you, ignoring your brothers warnings to stay away from you. You had to admit, his flirting was charming, in its own way. You had no idea how he pulled off half the stunts he did, like how he managed to get your favourite flowers on your bedside table. First of all, how did he know which flowers were your favourite? Second of all, how did he get them into your dorm? Or all the times you would find your favourite candy in your pockets or bag with a small note with his initials. You would lie if you said it didn’t work on you though. The banter whenever you would talk in combination with these sweet gestures really was the way to your heart and you had no idea how he had figured it out. When you had finished your milk, you thanked the houselves and started to make your way up the stairs that led from the kitchen corridor. Rounding a corner you slammed into a chest. Panicking, thinking it was a teacher, you started to utter out apologies and excuses as to why you were out of bed.

“Shut up, Potter or we will be caught!” A voice you so clearly recognised whisper shouted. Looking up you saw none other than Mattheo Riddle, the boy who was occupying your mind more often than not nowadays. Before you could retort you heard footsteps echo through the hall, nearing where the two of you were.

“Shit.” You whispered in unison. Realising where in the castle you were you grabbed Mattheo by the collar and dragged him in to a broom closet that was hidden right by the entrance to the stairs that led to the kitchens. The closet was small, the space felt cramped as you were standing chest to chest with Mattheo, your hands still gripping his collar. You stared up at Mattheo, eyes wide in fear of getting caught out of bed. Seeing your fear, he placed a hand on your cheek, rubbing your cheekbone slightly, in an attempt to comfort you. It did the exact opposite. Your heart was racing, not from the fear of getting caught, but from the way he was touching you. His hand was warm, his palm rough from quidditch but his touch gentle. You looked at him, really looked at him, his brown eyes soft, his curls sightly messy. You couldn’t help yourself as you shamelessly checked him out. He was looking at you now and it felt like the room got even smaller as a small smirk made its way onto his lips. You were so close, his body pressing against yours, his warmth surrounding you like a blanket. You were so close that your faces were centimetres apart.

“You like what you see?” He whispered, his breath hitting your face. Your brain couldn’t process what was happening right now. He let out a quiet, breathy laugh at your inability to answer him. When he quieted the tension flooded right back. His eyes traced your face, flickering to your lips for a split second before finding your wide eyes again.

“Is it weird that I really want to kiss you right now?” He murmured as his eyes found your lips again for a split second. Your mind went completely blank. All you knew is that you wanted him, needed him to kiss you.

“But I won’t, not until you ask me to.” He smirked before quietly opening the door to the closet. No footsteps could be heard. Cold air welled in, effectively breaking the trance he had you in. You frowned at him. He slipped out of the closet, and you sneaked out after him. You felt anger rise in you chest as you watched the back of his curly mop of hair descend the stone stairs to the kitchens.

“Fuck you, Mattheo.” You whisper shouted. You heard a chuckle from the stairs.

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.” He whispered back making you gape in the general direction of his voice in disbelief. You huffed in annoyance before turning around, sneaking your way back to your common room. The whole way back you thought about how soft his lips had looked and how angry you were with yourself for falling for his charms so easily. After this incident something shifted between you. The usual banter was mixed with something more, a longing, from the both of you. Insults was mixed with tones of want. He would also find ways to touch you more often after the incident in the broom closet. One thing you noticed in the middle of December was that he had not so much as looked at another girl while he was flirting with you. Hermione was even pointing it out. Saying that a few girls had tried to get with him but that he had ignored them completely. It was a beautiful snowy but cold day, and you had just been invited to Slughorn’s Christmas party, along with your brother and Hermione. You noticed that the grounds were covered in glittering white snow as you and Hermione were discussing who to go with on your way to ancient runes. You walked past Mattheo; him and his friends were also part of the so-called Slug club. You watched him as he laughed at something that his friend Theodore said. He really was gorgeous.

“I am going with Terry Boot, as friends, you should go with Harry, Hermione.” You said to Hermione when you had passed the boys.

“Oh, why didn’t I think of that?” She let out as she slapped her forehead in annoyance with herself.

“Are you going with someone else?” You asked amusedly. Hermione reddened, clearly embarrassed with her choice of date.

“Well, I was thinking about who would piss of Ron the most so I kind of asked Cormac.” She said as you let out a laugh. Hermione and Ron were having a rough time with each other at the moment, mostly because Ron was acting like an ass. She slapped your arm in annoyance.

“It’s not funny!” She said with a frown.

“It kind of is, Hermione.” You said, still chuckling.

“Well, I’m surprised that you didn’t go with Riddle.” She retorted.

“Why?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Because it’s obvious that you like each other.” She shrugged her shoulders as you walked into the classroom and sat down in your seat.

“We do not!” You said incredulously. She gave you a look of disbelief before bringing out her book and some parchment to write notes. Through the lesson Mattheo occupied your mind like he usually did nowadays. He was attractive, and sweet and he seemed to have changed his ways with girls. You were occupied by these thoughts even when you walked through the castle corridors to the great hall with Hermione after the lesson had finished. She was going on about how interesting the lesson was with you barley listening. When you were in the entrance hall you bumped your shoulder into someone and just as you were about to apologise you saw that it was none other than the boy who were occupying your mind.

“Stop daydreaming about me and watch where you’re going, love.” He said with a cheeky wink. Snapping out of your dazed state you narrowed your eyes at him, but not as sharply as you usually did.

“Please, any dream involving you would be a nightmare.” You rolled your eyes; you heard a chuckle from Mattheo’s friend Theodore. Mattheo sent a glare at his friend before turning back to you, that made you smile slightly.

“I heard you were going to Slughorn’s party with Terry Boot.” He stated casually. You eyed him suspiciously.

“Why? You jealous, Riddle?” You taunted him with a smirk on your face. He scoffed.

“Of him having to hold your sweaty hand? No, I think I’m fine.” He stated nonchalantly, you rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh, shut up.” You said, annoyance in your voice.

“You shut up.” He said back, getting closer to your face.

“Make me.” You retorted, staring him directly in his eyes.

“Okay, but you might moan a little.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders as he backed off slightly. You gaped at him. The audacity. His friends chuckled and he gave you a cheeky grin before casually sauntering off with his friends.

“You were saying something about not liking each other?” Hermione said, effectively rubbing salt in your wounds.

“Not a word.” You said grumpily as you made your way to the great hall in silence. The evening of the party arrived sooner than you thought. You were walking arm in arm with Terry. You wore a nice dress for the occasion, one that was accentuating your curves. Terry looked nice too in a suit and bowtie. When you entered the party, it was in full swing, people mingling and eating the finger food that was offered. You and Terry took the drink that was offered upon your arrival and went around and mingled with people. You looked around the beautifully decorated room, it was perfectly decorated for Christmas. Your eyes landed on a group of guys, Mattheo and his friends. You noticed that he didn’t seem to have a date. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. You were sure he would bring someone. Your eyes drifted to Cormac, alone, seeming to look for someone. You excused yourself to Terry. He let you go without any hesitation, continuing to talk with some other Ravenclaw boy. You looked around and saw two familiar silhouettes behind a sheer curtain. When you walked over you found Hermione hiding there with Harry, panic evident in his eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked your brother as you saw Hermione stuffing her mouth with the dragon ball tarte. You scrunched your nose at this, since it was notorious to make your breath stink.

“Hermione is trying to ward of McLaggen.” Harry said with a laugh at the girl who was clearly suffering. You gave the girl a look of sympathy.

“Oh, here he comes.” Hermione said, panic in her voice, as she quickly escaped out the other side of the curtain, Harry hot on her heels. Leaving you alone to fend of the sleazy boy.

“Where did she go?” Cormac asked.

“To the ladies room.” You swiftly lied. You gave him a small, polite smile before you tried to pass him to rejoin the party. He stopped you by grabbing your upper arm rather harshly.

“Well, she is a real minx, your friend. But seeing as we’re here, alone, we might as well.” He said, a greasy smile on his face. You frowned at him, but you were gagging on the inside. You tried to yank your arm free from his grip, but he didn’t let go. You were about to tell him to let you go when someone else got before you.

“Get your hands off her.” A cold voice came from behind Cormac. You looked over his shoulder and you saw none other than Mattheo Riddle standing there, face stoic apart from the muscle that was popping from his jaw. He looked deadly. Cormac’s grip faltered but he didn’t let go.

“Look man-” He started, but Mattheo didn’t let him finish.

“There is nothing you could say that won’t make me break your face if you don’t get your slimy hand off of her in the next 2 seconds.” Mattheo got out through gritted teeth. Seeing Mattheo so angry made you feel some type of way. Cormac let you go slowly, his face pale as he excused himself. He knew better than to mess with the beater of the Slytherin team. The boy notorious for fighting anyone who pissed him off without a second thought. Your eyes met Mattheo’s under the low lights as he took slow steps towards you. He was handsome in his suit, the top buttons of his dress shirt unbuttoned. His face was still cold as he stopped in front of you. His hand moved to gently touch your arm, where Cormac had gripped it rather harshly. His rings were cool against your hot skin, sending shivers down your spine. The way he was looking at you made you feel hot. He closed his eyes as he forced a breath through his nose.

“Are you okay?” You asked him in a low voice. His eyes shot open as he studied your face.

“I should be the one asking that, but I’m fine.” He let out tensely. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re not.” You stated as a matter of fact.

“I am.” He was still sounding extremely tense.

“That’s not the truth, tell me the truth Mattheo. What were you jealous?” You threw the words out, but when you said them, it dawned on you. Could he have been jealous? His eyes narrowed this time.

“I was not, I just don’t like slimy guys.” He muttered irritably he looked like he would snap any second now.

“You’re such an asshole. If you weren’t jealous, why would you threaten Corm-”

“Okay, fine! I was jealous. I was so jealous that I could rip his throat out for just talking to you, let alone touching you. I was jealous when I saw you walking in with Boot” he spat his name, “because he had the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen as his date” he gestured to you, “I was jealous because whatever I do, I will never be that guy to you. I shouldn’t be jealous, because you aren’t even mine, yet here I am.” He was breathing heavily after he was done with his rant. You were smiling shyly up at him as you took a couple of steps closer to him, invading his personal space. Your hands found the planes of his stomach before they travelled slowly up his chest and around his neck. He let out a low groan at your actions.

“Kiss me, asshole.” You whispered; he closed his eyes at your words. Your mind was immediately brought back to the almost kiss in the broom closet and how sure of himself he sounded when he had said that he wouldn’t kiss you unless you asked.

“The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop.” He murmured back his hands finding your hips, gripping them tightly.

“Maybe I don’t want you to.” You replied simply and it was like all restraint he had in him flew out the window. He smashed his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate, lips and teeth clashing, his tongue fighting with yours as his hands moved from your hips to your waist, giving it a squeeze. Yours found his hair, pulling on the strands on the back of his neck. Eliciting a moan from him. The kiss was far from sweet, but you didn’t want it any other way. It felt like months of feelings and want was poured into the kiss. It was as if he kissed you hard enough you would understand his feelings for you. You kissed him back with just as much fervour, as if you too were trying to convey your feelings through the kiss.

“My eyes!” You heard a shriek from behind you. You and Mattheo broke apart, startled from the sound. Turning around you saw Harry and Hermione standing there. Harry had the most disgusted expression you had ever seen, and Hermione looked awfully smug.

“Really y/n? Riddle?” Harry said in an annoyed voice to which you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up Harry, go away.” You said, annoyance in your own voice, Hermione didn’t say anything as she slowly pulled Harry away, but she still had that smug smile on her face. You turned back to Mattheo, who had your lipstick all over his lips, and he was looking at you with a look you’ve never seen before. His eyes were soft, tender, a small smirk was on his lips. The look made you feel weak in the knees. With your heart hammering you snaked your arms around his neck again.

“You can be as jealous as you want, asshole, because I’m yours.” You whispered, your eyes finding his. His smile widened as he took one of your hands of his neck and took it in his. He took off his signet ring, where his initials were carved, and put it on your index finger.

“There, all mine.” He said softly before kissing you again, softer this time. His lips were gentle against yours, his hands tracing your back as yours raked through his hair.

“All yours.” You murmured against his lips, to which he groaned.

“I could listen to you saying that all night.” He said, his voice sounding strained, and he parted from you a little, needing to collect himself. You were still at Slughorn’s party after all.

“If you play your cards right maybe you will.” You said seductively as you pulled him back to you by his belt. He groaned, which he covered up by coughing when a teacher walked by on the other side of the curtain. You giggled at this.

“Well, handsome, I’m going to rejoin my date for the party.” You said, a teasing smile on your face. He looked at you bewildered.

“I might be yours now, but I wasn’t when I agreed to be Terry’s date for tonight.” You said a teasing note in your voice.

“I’ll see you tonight.” You whispered into his ear before placing a kiss to his cheek and slipping out the curtain. It would be a long night.

#fan fiction #harry potter #x reader #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x potter!reader #mattheo riddle fanfic #potter!reader

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