#i didn't give this a final glance before posting so if there are any mistakes - no there aren't 😭

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

not me updating this post (it's more likely than you'd think)

-

Dust and debris spread like a fine mist through the air. 

Harry can see the storefront across from him. The window’s glass has large looping letters, their outline gilded and just catching what little light shines through the smoke clouds, but he can hardly make out the words. He feels so dizzy.

What’s going on?

At first the world is straight, if a little blurry, and then it is not. He’s tilting—no, falling—Harry is falling; he’s been pushed, shoved? The culprit is running off somewhere into the smog, and he catches himself with his hand on the brick behind him. He thinks it must hurt but can’t really feel it. 

There’s definitely something going on here, Harry nods almost to encourage himself. And he’s sure of it because, even though it‘s painful to look at (now that he’s seen it - he can’t stop staring), spellfire is sparking up and down the alley. Probably a fight, but who’s fighting? And - what’s that?

A large chunk of rubble, he realises. Then he corrects himself—chunks. 

Oh. 

They make an impressive line through all this dust and whatnot to the point where things actually seem visible. And now that he’s sort of able to see and mostly paying attention, Harry’s noticing that the chunks aren’t coming from nearby buildings; they aren’t falling from the sky.

He watches, brows raised, as the ground a bit off in the distance breaks, cracks, and almost crumbles out of itself. The massive stone tears straight up and away, shooting at harrowing speeds towards—something, Harry’s certain. Their mass is being used as projectiles. 

Woah, he thinks and hopes he says it out loud because whoever’s doing that needs to hear this, now that’s wicked. The magical strength required to do that must be enormous, but judging by their wavering and almost wild flinging energy, it lacks in any refinement or skill. Whoever is doing that is desperate. Scared. So, not wicked, probably.

Harry’s tempted to find the poor bastard and give them a pat on the back, maybe take them out for a pint. Hell, he could use one right about now. He’s feeling pretty desperate and—well, maybe not scared—but definitely confused, too. 

Which brings him back to: What’s going on?

Waking up in the middle of an ongoing fight is what Harry had been expecting; what he hadn’t been expecting is waking up in the middle of what looks like Diagon Alley if he squints a bit and tilts his head to the left.

Deciding he’s overstayed his wall welcome, Harry straightens up, cautiously keeping his hand on the brick for steadying. He dusts himself off rather pointlessly and gives his Auror robes a quick pat down. No wand. 

That’s a problem. Nothing he can’t work around, but it’s a problem long term. Thankfully, he isn’t out of practice with wandless spellwork, but it vastly limits what he can do to lend a hand with whatever the hell is going on here. 

And he’ll really have to lend a hand and get out of here as quickly as possible. Ron is no doubt losing his mind with worry, and they still have to take care of some rouge wizards reaping havoc on a small wizarding community in Alfriston. If Harry really is in Diagon, he’s a long way away from there, so time is of the essence. 

Seriously, what happened anyway? What did that wizard throw at him?

It occurs to Harry then that he should probably give more attention to the wizards currently throwing things at him because one of those large pieces of rubble abruptly interrupts his train of thought and sightline. He gathers whatever magic he can and prepares to apparate away from its path, but—

Nothing. 

He tries again. And again. It’s getting closer. 

Then on his fourth attempt he feels something grating against his skin and realises—anti-apparition wards. 

Something is not only going on… but is very wrong. 

Harry’s eyes widen, and he ducks, rolling out of the way and further into the street. The world continues rolling even when he stops, vertigo crashing over him all too suddenly and forcing him to catch his breath; Merlin, Harry feels like he’s dying. 

He only gets this way after portkey travel or long-distance flooing—how he got here does not agree with him at all. And watching as that stone impacts the shop window he stared at earlier, Harry startles at another simple revelation. 

He can’t hear. 

He takes a deep breath and coughs, tries again until he feels calmer and doesn’t choke with every lung full. He can hear, but it isn’t anything substantial, only a low-volume, high-pitched ringing noise that echoes around in his head. He feels nearly delirious. And a bit like he’s going to be sick. 

Mindlessly, Harry steps back and out of the way of a nasty-looking violet spell, its shade almost neon. He takes a moment to assess his body more carefully.

Fingers, toes—check. All limbs, head is on straight, joints are bending the right way—he’s perfectly fine. He doesn’t feel any major injuries but forces a pitifully weak healing charm from within - out. He’s shit at wandless healing even though everyone swears otherwise, so it doesn’t ease up the nausea, but it does fix his hearing. 

He almost wishes it hadn’t.

Screaming louder than banshee cries, whizzing spells, explosions echoing, the dull droning of the wards, buildings breaking, shouts, crying, pleading—the world is so much louder than Harry is expecting, and he flinches, holds his hands against his ears at the onslaught. 

It takes some time, more than he wants to tolerate, and a few more close calls with ugly spells, but when Harry finally gets his bearings, he jumps into the fray. 

It’s hardly a thought to magic away most of the debris in the air, and with it gone, he takes in his surroundings. His head whips back and forth, taking stock of what’s newly visible. Harry’s unsure where to begin and who to ask for an explanation of what is even happening. He can’t spot any familiar Aurors, but there are definitely people scattered about in uniforms…

Harry nearly pauses at that. Yes, there are definitely people dressed in uniforms. Ones that are dark and black and flow like ink and look eerily familiar, and others that look strikingly like Sirius’s old—

“HELP!”

Harry’s eyes unerringly find the source of that scream—a young woman clutching a child. 

Their backs are up against the broken remains of a side alley, and her body is trying to cover the kid, hide them, to the best of her ability. A wizard in dark robes blocks their only way out, wand held stiffly in a tight grip - it’s pointed straight at them. 

Harry’s already moving, but his eyes squint, disoriented as he catches the unmistakable glimmer of silver reflecting off sunlight from the side of the wizard’s face. And this does make him pause. It makes him pause just long enough to feel and humour the stomach-swooping horror of recognition—of wrongness—that sight causes. 

It’s certainly a good thing that Harry has gotten to be so proficient at pushing down and sealing away horrors of all types and that he continues to be fast on his feet, quick on the draw. Helpful, too, that his wandless stupefy is still in top form. 

The wizard crumples to the ground, and Harry’s assist goes unnoticed in all the chaos. Yet the woman finds his eyes anyway, obviously having noticed him earlier, maybe even calling out for Harry specifically. She peers up at him, relieved and overwhelmingly grateful, but stares for a beat too long. 

And Harry, long used to prolonged stares, gives her no mind. He quickly comes over to help escort her and the child somewhere safer. She mutters something as he lifts the mute kid into his arms, their eyes wide and blinking. Harry balances them mostly on his left - his right hand holding their back steady, but he wants to keep it free to cast just in case. 

“What was that?” Harry asks while waiting for the kid to get comfortable and finish tightly wrapping their arms around his neck. He releases his hold on their back once they settle, and he takes a gentle but resolute hold on the woman to help guide her out of the alley and any direct fire. 

She’s shaking violently, but when she repeats herself, her voice is more confident—louder. “I- I didn’t know you had become an Auror, James. I thought you only g-graduated this summer?” She asks.

For a moment, only a moment, all of Harry’s battle-hardened instincts fall away. 

He feels his shoulders drop from their tense hold, and he—he just can’t believe what he’s heard. She doesn’t look anywhere close to his parents’ ages had they still been alive, even by wixen ageing standards. Really, she looks much closer to Harry’s age, maybe a couple of years older, give or take. They had probably gone to Hogwarts together for a while, so then why—

Why does she think he’s his father? James, she called Harry, like they are friendly. Like they know each other. 

Shock. Harry can excuse this as shock. He sorely wants to, but that feeling of wrongness is rearing its ugly head once again. 

So he decides not to say anything at all. Harry stays quiet and focused. He stuns anyone suspicious they come across and brings them both to a mostly unharmed shop out of the way with a blessedly working floo connection in a warded office in the back. 

The kid gives him a big hug before they leave, still mute, still blinking with wide eyes, and the woman turns to Harry, puts one hand on his arm, squeezes him once and says, “Stay safe, James.”

He watches them leave.

Breathe, Harry, he tells himself. And it almost works because he can hear the wet gasp and feel his chest move up and down with it. Yet he remains breathless, his mind whirring and unable to catch a thought long enough to actually think—until his feet start moving.

Harry exits the building and, with a clarity he doesn’t truly feel, rounds the corner. He’s confident that Twilfitt and Tattings should be just here, only a few feet away. When he arrives at the distinct shop front, still standing on what Harry can only guess is unadulterated rich-pureblood spite, the store looks nothing like the clothing shop he’s seen hundreds of times before. 

Unsettled but always willing to take a gamble, Harry sticks to the edges of the alley and makes his way further up Diagon, closer to Horizont. He avoids bouncing spells and crumpled bodies and casts when he has to all the way until he spots the familiar sign of Ollivanders. 

With careful hesitation and a churning deep in his gut, Harry tries something with no small amount of hysteria. He holds up his hand right before the shattered glass of Ollivanders’s main window and says:

“Accio Harry Potter’s wand.”

Harry stands there foolishly for a moment, lingering. Nothing happens. 

A short laugh rushes out of him; vicious relief nearly causes his head to sway, but he can’t help it. For a breathtaking moment, he had almost convinced himself that he’d felt something like a tingle, like a response from his magic that something was about to happen. 

Shock, Harry reminds himself. She was just in shock. 

He shakes his head to clear it of whatever madness had briefly held him and readies to shoulder open the door and commandeer a temporary wand. Even an incompatible wand will be better than nothing if he continues lending a hand to the Aurors on the scene. But before he can even take a step, his eyes catch movement in the darkness of the shop. And—Oh, that’s coming straight at me. 

“Whoa!” Harry ducks and turns to watch as a wand takes an arching turn and bounds straight towards him again. But this time, Harry is ready; he catches it with a smart thwack to the flat of his palm. 

The immediate warmth and pure magic radiating from this wand floods his veins unlike any other—but that’s a lie. It’s exactly like one other. One other wand from when Harry was eleven. His very first wand. 

He looks at the fine holly wood in his hand, feels the blazing heat of what is no doubt a phoenix feather core, and the familiar curves and juts of its crafted exterior, and conjures no happiness at the sight of his old friend. Harry feels dread take hold of his very being, leaving him cold and wrung dry. 

“Tempus,” Harry mutters, and like delicate clockwork, the spell casts flawlessly and more naturally than any spell Harry has cast in ages. The time of day and month are troubling enough, but the year really causes its own upending. 

1978.

Harry takes a deep, steadying breath in. He locks all the terrible and horrible things he’s feeling away in a small corner of his mind, shoving it all into a cupboard under the stairs. And he takes a deep, steadying breath out. 

He nods once to himself and holds his wand in a textbook grip. Logic and Auror instinct, but more prevalent, war instinct, sinks its familiar claws into the still healing scars of his mind. 

He leaves Ollivanders and makes his way carefully up Diagon Alley, distantly acknowledging that he hasn’t done as good a job as he’s hoping at concealing his anxieties. His casting is too accurate and decidedly not as innocent as it’s been. He trades stupefy for spells that may lean a little darker than any Auror really should be using.

He can’t say he has the element of surprise on his side. Still, the terrorists attacking the alley aren’t exactly looking out for an Auror dressed like Harry, so he has a precious few moments of them treating him like a civilian before realising their grave error. 

But, by then, Harry has blasted them halfway across the alley. They’re face down on the cobblestones or missing a limb or two by the time their ah-ha moment of ‘civilians don’t normally fight like that’ echoes in the quiet of their unconscious minds.

As Harry gets closer to the heart of the battle, picking off black-robed wizards one by one and gathering appreciative and perplexed looks from Aurors, he realises that faces are beginning to gain an awful familiarity. He wants to hex himself—of course faces are starting to look familiar. He knows an ungodly amount of wixen who fought in the First War. He’s heard numerous stories of their bravery and seen photographs of them, after all, and Harry really should have known that seeing them would be inevitable, even now—even when he isn’t ready.

But he hasn’t ever travelled this far back in time, so can anyone blame him for being caught by surprise?

Because—there she is.

She’s fresh out of Hogwarts. Classes must’ve only ended a month or so ago. And she’s standing at the heart of the battle. The August sun lends an unfairly clear day to the gruesome attack and shines on the brilliant auburn of her hair, all tied back and away from her face like a flaming whip. Gods, there she is.

Harry is shocked still, eyes locked on the sight of Lily Potter.

And he pays for it with a gnarly gash to the side of his ribs.

Gasping out, he quickly breaks from his trance and curses his inability to stay focused. Harry fires back with his own cutting spell; of course, the much nastier sectumsempra won’t be nearly as easy to bounce back from, but Harry just can’t muster up the fucks to give at the moment. 

Mum—Lily—is the one who stops his next assailant, though Harry doubts she even notices her assistance. It turns out she’s the one ripping stone out of the earth and flinging it at anything silver and moving. And, Merlin, it’s nearly charming. He’s going to throw up.

It takes a blue spell, its colour vibrant and just off enough for Harry to connect that it isn’t anything friendly, barely missing her, for him to decide enough is enough.

Harry centres himself and pulls at his magic. He aims his wand at the ground beneath his feet and chants until small spikes start erupting around them like saplings from the cobblestone. He doesn’t stop until they grow taller and taller until they tower over every head and every thatched roof, and until all the ruined pathways around Diagon Alley have become impractical and claustrophobic. 

Startled cries come from every direction; Harry thinks he hears bones snapping from those who can’t thread the needle before the spikes grow too close, like a dense forest. No one is spared of his sudden anger…

…no one except for Lily Potter, who stands in a small circle of safety. The spikes around her have curved inward, lending shelter. When Harry finally catches her gaze—oh no, oh no, oh no—he finds that her arms are raised. Almost like Harry’s a robber, and this is all just some kind of hold-up. He feels the urge to laugh die as quickly as it comes.

Not a soul moves, but Harry isn’t one for inaction. He lifts his wand and casts a sonorus; he speaks, “If you are a follower of-“ Harry mindfully avoids His name, unaware if the taboo has been enacted, “the Dark Lord, I believe you’ve caused well enough damage today. Leave.”

It’s silent for a long moment. And then, suddenly, the sharp snap of the anti-apparition wards shattering is all Harry hears. He can almost feel the rain of its magic falling down all around them, preceding the sounds of loud pop-pop-pops from the Death Eaters tucking tails and running away. 

Harry is a little shocked that simply demanding they leave works. Then again, turning all of Diagon Alley’s streets into some giant’s version of an Iron Maiden in the heat of his anger is probably something to be wary of. When the last pop fades, and all is quiet once more, Harry transfigures the cobblestones back. Once again, marvelling at the easy control with his holly wand.

It dawns on Harry, now that the battle is cleared up as best as he can manage, that he has no way of returning to his time and nothing to immediately keep that thought from taking hold and consuming him whole. He stands, mind racing and paralysed, as multiple hesitant thanks, thank you so much, you saved us, are whispered his way. And he could really do without the reminder of how irreparably fucked he’s just made the timeline, but, you’re welcome, he supposes. 

Then, through the whirlwind of his breakdown, he feels two gentle hands on his arms, pulling him out of the dark and into the eye of the storm.  

“Excuse me?” Harry looks up at green, sage and fresh like a vegetable garden, like summer’s grass on a quidditch field, like sprigs of thyme on a holiday roast surrounded by family; he looks up at the eyes of Lily Potter and startles at the sound of her voice.

Is this what she really sounds like? Harry remembers her voice clear as day from—well, it’s nothing he wants to think about now. But he doesn’t remember it sounding like this. So bright and so…

“So young…” Harry mindlessly replies. And Lily Potter’s answering frown is enough to leave him sorry for the rest of his miserable life.

She turns her careful attention to Harry’s bleeding shoulder, and he finally realises she’s trying to heal him. He doesn’t mention that he isn’t too worried about it and that the gash on his ribs is way worse because she starts speaking again, and all Harry wants to do is shut up and listen to her voice forever.

“Speak for yourself, firecracker,” she says. “You look about my age and handled yourself better than any of these Aurors.”

Firecracker? Harry mutters soundlessly. He’s bewildered at the idea of his mother giving him a nickname like that, his mother giving him a nickname at all. Something screaming and rotting and twisting in his soul mourns the loss of it until now.

“This doesn’t look as bad as I’d thought. Do you feel any intense pain? Any sharp shooting down your arm or back?” She asks.

Harry shakes his head slowly and in a daze. She hums, doubting, “Well, even if it doesn’t hurt too badly, let’s get you to St Mungo’s and patch you up—“

Harry steps back and out of her gentle hands, shaking his head with much more clarity. “No. No doctors. I can heal it myself well enough.”

Lily’s eyes widen, and something on his face must scream that he’s planning on making his great escape—it doesn’t matter where as long as it isn’t here in front of her of all people—because she suddenly grabs his wrist tight enough to bruise. “Wait! I’ll listen! I won’t force you to see a healer, but please,” she grips him even tighter, “we haven’t had a… a victory like this… in a long, long time.” 

Her eyes pry into him; they search and search, and she must find something because she steadies her panic and softly demands that he - “Don’t go.”

Harry can only stare, horrified, at his own mother standing before him, young and alive and begging him not to go.

He’s saved from answering as they’re interrupted by a loud shout, “LILY!” 

A man full-on tackles Lily Potter with force strong enough to pull Harry with them, but madly, all Harry can think is that - Mum has quite the grip.

And now that he’s so close, Harry quickly deduces that the new link to their growing chain is none other than James Potter.

Harry’s eyes blink slowly; a bone-weary exhaustion takes staunch hold of him as he listens to his father ask after his mother’s well-being. Finally, Lily speaks over him firm and unyielding, “James. I am fine. Where on earth have you been?” 

“I was dealing with some Death Eaters towards the mouth of Knockturn—but that doesn’t matter! What matters is that you promised to stay by me, and in less than two shakes of a fairy’s wings, you were nowhere to be seen.”

Lily scoffs, “I cannot believe you are blaming me right now when you are clearly the one who wandered off first! We agreed to stay near the centre, and, oh wow! Would you look at that? That’s exactly where you found me, isn’t it?”

Harry cannot believe he’s watching his parents have their first domestic argument, and he isn’t even technically born yet. This is cruel and unusual. Wait, are they even married? 

“Okay. Agree to disagree,” James nods. Lily’s got that look on her face that Hermione sometimes gets with Ron, like he’d better say the right thing in the next four seconds, or he’ll get a nasty left hook to the face. Harry feels his stomach drop right out of him at the thought of never seeing Ron and Hermione ever again. Oh god. And then, James continues, “We are both at fault.”

James’ eyes stray towards Harry, looking long and hard at his face. He finds Lily’s tight grip next and asks, “Who’s tall, pale, and ready to be sick standing beside you here?”

“What?” Lily asks, and her eyes fall on Harry, too. Her mouth parts in a horror Harry feels immensely. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry; I promise I didn’t forget about you. It’s just that James is so distracting, and oh merlin, I haven’t even introduced myself—“

“Lily, take a deep breath. And maybe let the man go?”

“James, you have no idea what happened. But you would if you’d have been here.”

Harry clears his throat, “Um,” James and Lily both turn and give him their full attention. Oh, that’s awful. How does Harry simultaneously feel like the youngest and oldest person here? He’s clueless about what to say next but settles on, “Um… I’m Harry.”

“Harry,” James and Lily say it together. Perfect unison. Lily’s eyes are wide, but her smile is wider, and James looks extremely confused and nearly half as put out. His brows furrow until they almost touch, and he comments, “My grandfather’s name was Harry.” He frowns and corrects himself, “Well, his name was Henry, but we all called him Harry.”

Oh. Should Harry have given them a fake name?

“James…” Lily murmurs. She isn’t quiet enough for Harry to miss her following words, “He looks a bit like he could be your brother, doesn’t he? Even a bit like Charlus?” James silently and slowly nods, his eyes still locked on Harry.

“What did you say your surname was again, Harry?” James asks with all the subtlety of a hippogriff, like he’s trying to be slick. 

And Harry, no stranger to risky bets, replies, “I didn’t. But it’s Potter. Harry Potter.”

The silence that follows is the loudest he’s heard yet. Wasn’t he nearly deaf earlier?

Until—“Lily. You got a good grip on him, yeah?” James asks.

“Of course,” she nods like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

James grins. “Hold on tighter, then.”

The sudden gathering of magic in the air has Harry’s hair standing on end. He knows what’s coming but doesn’t truly process it until he catches sight of James’ wand out, and by then, it’s too late.

They apparate out of Diagon Alley.

[cvnt4him]

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

"woah would you look at that, deku just took out that guy with a single punch!"

"he's so amazing!~"

"you're my hero!!!"

So many people chant, root, and holler for even the slightest glimpse of his attention, even a glance.

"Mr deku, what can you tell us about this villain, you hadn't even put up much of a hassle and yet he appears to be tired!" One report gleams.

It's true. He hadn't done too much, one simple practically, light punch and the criminal was already down, he knew that. Deku knew he was good, he knew others thought he was good. He thrived on that kind of energy.

"oh~, well you know, I'm not one to brag nor bring other people down, criminal or not we're all human." He sings to the reporter, hinting at the fact she gave the measly little lowlife schmuck at best, a promotion to 'villian'. cameras flashing everywhere as he heard a bunch of girlish screams, everyone looks over to see a bunch of fan girls rallying to get an autograph.

Dammit.

Izuku tried so hard not to let his smile faulter, its not that he disliked his fans, really he could never, he knows one of the reasons he's here is because of his fans, and he loves them all equally no matter what. However. scrolling on the Internet, especially as a pro hero it's hard not to go down a loophole of your own fans. Izukus fans are nice, sure. But they're also bat shit crazy.

Doxxing people for disagreeing, assuming he was gay for his best friend dynamite, writing fanfiction about him and his best friend dynamite, assuming he had a new significant other because he changed up his style of clothing??

Really his fans are too much, he loves them, he does. But they are just so...smothering?

As he sees the fans hurrying toward him he tries his hardest to jump away as he was stopped by a little deaf girl who wanted an autograph.

Shit. You can't NOT give a little deaf girl an autograph it'd be bad publicity. he sighs deeply in defeat, knowing how easily persuaded he is, he'll most likely be there standing, on his feet, smiling wide and big for fans, for the next hour and a half.

Izuku sighed deeply through his nose as he finally, after 5 more hours of working, made it back to his bed, that's all he wanted. He didn't bother taking his suit off just simply jumping in his bed and groaning at the comfort he longed for.

He grabbed his phone and opened Twitter.. that was the first mistake of the night, he scrolled through his feed coming across a post of a girl just rambling about her ever lasting love for deku.

He shifted in his bed so now he was laying back on his pillows, turning up the sound to hear your beautifully slurred voice.

"- like bro.. I don't think any of you understand how my NEED for this man is like just.. sigh. I'm about to go crazy bro. If I were given the chance I'd do unholy. Unspeakable. Down right horrendous things to this man, i- aHaAVE YOU SEEN HIS NEW HERO SUIT??" You were talking to your friend who had the idea to start recording you while you were drunk, laughing and snorting at you.

The video was posted by you, the caption read; 'my friend started recording while i was drunk and i randomly went on a rant ab my love for the #1 hero 💀'

He snickered at this, genuinely finding it funny, but sooner or later it registered in his brain what you'd said..you'd do what to him.

Before he knew it he was semi hard, he looked down at his slight hard on confused, there is no way this turned him on?? He had been sent so many videos of his fan girls from all ages going down on a dildo with his name slapped on it, he never found it the least but attractive, just kind of desperate..

He watched the video again, his cock becoming fully erect as he sighed at the uncomfortable feeling of his now leaking, completely hard cock, rubbing against his suit pants.

It had been a while since he'd done something like this.. since he had used someone..he needed this, just to relax. Just a couple of strokes to get him to come, that's all.

He let out a shaky sigh, slowly trailing his thick fingers up and down his clothed cock, earning a light squeak to rip from his throat due to the slight pleasure he felt from the gentle actions.

He knew he needed it, he needed this so badly, but he wouldn't rush it. He hated when he rushed things, he says 'they never get done correctly'.

So he would be patient with himself, gently palming himself over his suit pants, letting breathy sighs leave his slightly dried and chapped lips.

He looked over to his phone to see the paused video...

'oh what the hell.' he thought to himself as he grabbed the phone, angling and holding it close to his ear to hear your voice and the loud laughs that he hopefully tried to blur out of his mind. Focusing on your voice fully.

He held the phone close to his ear closing his eyes listening to your slurred speech, and the hiccups and giggles that left your mouth, he bit his lip as his palming motions began to get harder and more rough, "I would do down right horrendous things to this man." That line stuck with him, that's what made him undo his pants and shimmy them off so he could fully touch his leaking, crying cock.

He groaned in embarrassment and disgust in himself at the sight of his already soaked boxers, why did his cock have to be so leaky!!

He whimpered at the sight, pulling his boxers down just enough to have his cock hit against himself. He wrapped two fingers around his cock and rolled his eyes back, biting his lip to sustain the sound that wanted to come out. He stroked himself slowly, letting the precum on his tip continue to drip down his thick cock.

He had listened to the audio all over again this time fixating on the part where you'd talked about his suit. He had changed up his suit a couple of times, never really straying away from the original concept he had in highschool, the green was always there to stay, and he always liked the fact his suit was more of a jumpsuit kind of thing, but changing it over the years, he went with a tighter fabric for his new and improved suit, removing the bunny ears at the back, and adding a white cape, replacing his huge bulky gloves with just as thick, smaller and well fitted ones, the white the painted his suit was now black.

He hadn't done much to his suit really.

But you and so many others thought it was the sexiest thing in the world.

He loved that, that you loved his suit, he whimpered in a pitchy octave, eyes crossing as he shut them, breaths becoming uneven as he wraps his whole hand around his aching, dripping, cock. It yearned for release, he needed it, it hurt so bad but felt so good he couldn't stop, he was sooo close!

So so close, and yet.. not close enough to get him there. He abandoned all self respect and hope for 'not rushing things' he needed to come and the only way he could is if he really touched himself.

He ripped off the top of his hero suit before rummaging in his bedside drawer to grab a Fleshlight, it was a lot more advanced than your normal average pussy shaped fleshie, it had handle and so many different modes!!! It vibrated and wiggled and had a squirt thingy that shot lube inside to make his cock slippery, not that he'd need it, his cock is like a water fountain with so much cum to give.

He turned it onto its highest setting before settling his twitching cock, dribbling with precum, inside of it.

He couldn't contain the line of moans that ripped out of him, he wanted to really he did, he wanted to keep quiet for his neighbors but he just couldn't, he felt so fucking good, he'd felt that he'd never been this hot or bothered before especially not because of some measly audio that wasn't in any way remotely sexual, and yet he was so close to cumming because of it. This video. This person. You.

You were so close to making him cum.. he was right there bucking his hips up into the contraption, shaking, whilst his whole body spasmed as he threw his head back, sweat dripping from his tired and spent body, he groaned and moaned so loudly it was so lewd, he was so lewd. He couldn't believe what he was doing, he felt so dirty, but in this very moment, he couldn't care. He was so drunk off of the immense amount of pleasure he was receiving that all he wanted, needed, was to cum.

And when he finally released with a high pitched moan, globs of tears leaving his rolled eyes, there was so much, ropes of his white, hot, thick cum squirting inside of the toy. It was still vibrating against his softening cock, it made him so overstimulated yet he couldn't move, his orgasm was so strong he didn't have the energy to take his cock out. He just sat there, holding onto the toy that continuously vibrated and massaged his limp, thick, crying cock, crying, sniffing, and whimpering.

Hell he'd probably already came again without even knowing it, his orgasms had gone on for a while, he still couldn't move, just blissfully laying against his bed, covered in sweat and tears streaming down his reddened freckled face.

As he regained his composure, the overstimulation was more than enough, he hiccuped, wiping his face from the tears and sweat that covered it, as he turned off the toy and tossed it off of his bed, he was half naked, hot, and hungry.

He groaned as he draped one of his arms over his face, feeling the sweat and tears cover his forearm, as he heard the video that had been playing over and over again on repeat. His eyes shot wide open as he scurried to grab his phone. he looked at the video in disgust. Had he really just gone to a new low, and came to this stupid video of a dumb drunk girl complimenting him??

His post nut clarity was always bad, especially because he did some pretty down bad, disgusting, sinful things. But this? Yeah he deserved to suffer for all eternity.

He groaned placing his phone under his pillow as he buried his face in said pillow, squeezing his eyes shut at how hard he'd came, his cock still filthy and sticky with his thick ooey gooey cum, now dirtying his bed.

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

AN: he hates himself for how much and how hard he came, he really does.

I'm making a pt 2🤭

[bones4thecats]

➸ Your Wedding Day; Idia Shroud × S/O

Character: Idia Shroud A/N: This was something that I've wanted to write for quite a while, so I'm happy I finally got my Idia-wedding ideas out and posted for you guys to see. Hope you fellow Idia simps enjoy! Disclaimer(s): Reader's dress, Idia's suit, and song to listen too

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Idia Shroud ════════════════════════════╝

🎮 We all know this guy enjoys his privacy, and that includes privacy with you (of course it does, why wouldn't it?)

🎮 You happily handed him a list of some ideas for your wedding, to which he just sighed and set his headphones down to read over. Ever since College ended, he had been working more and more with S.T.Y.X., so whenever he got some free time, he'd either play games or rest with you

🎮 More than not, he would just sleep with you right beside him. The guy's tried, give him a break

🎮 But, when he proposed, he did not expect such a long list of things you guys needed to decide on for your wedding. He figured that you'd have it all laid out and not worry about it like a character in a show/movie

🎮 As he read the list over, he put tiny skulls by whatever he found that he liked the idea of. Cost wasn't a big deal, but he knew that you wanted a smaller wedding when you guys spent your second-year anniversary together

🎮 He agreed with the idea, but never gave it a second thought. Rookie mistake.

🎮 Idia handed you back the list and you then put check-marks besides the ones you agreed with him on. Your big-day was in only 9 weeks, so getting everything else laid out was something you guys needed to get done immediately

🎮 Snapping his headphones back on as you made call after call and message after message, Idia let his mind wander onto what he dreamt your wedding would look like. From flowers to you in your dress, it didn't matter. It was all there

🎮 When your wedding finally came, your soon-to-be-husband was having a nervous breakdown. Though, why wouldn't he be? He was an introvert having to go up there in front of people and confess his love to you

🎮 While yes, it was all people both you and him knew extremely well, it was still a lot of people!

🎮 His father walked up behind him and smiled, his blue-flame hair matching his son's as he put the brooch of a gem-eyed skull on his suit

"You look so awesome, big brother!" Ortho said from behind their father.

"Thanks, O'. How's Y/N doing?" He asked.

"She's doing great! She looks beyond amazing in her dress! You're gonna be a big strawberry when you see her go down the isle."

🎮 Idia smiled and looked at himself in the mirror, the long flame hair that he always kept loose without any care for, all neatly put together in a brushed-up style with a bow keeping it behind his shoulders. This was what you wanted, so it was what you were going to get

"Boys! Come on! Wedding's about to start!" Mrs. Shroud said from the doorway, causing all three Shroud boy's hair to erupt before settling again. Thankfully it didn't burn anything...

"We're on out way, dear!" Mr. Shroud answered.

🎮 Mr. Shroud looked back at his sons and smiled, planting his new face-only helmet back on his head, his hair sticking out, as it was shorter, but brighter in terms of fire-light

"Let's head out to see your new chapter, Idia."

══✿══╡

🎮 Idia stood there before you, hair all nice, while you stood before him, your long white dress standing out while your veil was draped in front of your face, much to your future husband's dismay. It was hard to find comfort in your eyes without straining his eyes to look beyond the thin fabric

"Now, let's get these vows out, shall we?" The Minister said.

🎮 You smiled and looked at Idia, motioning for him to start. He just took a deep breath, taking a simple glance at his mother, whom was standing behind you as one of her bridesmaids, to which she nodded

🎮 Idia looked deep in your eyes and spoke from his heart. Like I said, no planning involved for this poor boy

"Y/N. You were like the boss that I couldn't defeat. I feared everyone in College, but you just kept coming back and I couldn't seem to put up a firewall to keep you away from me. Every time I heard you were somewhere, I felt the urge to go there just to see your face and hear your laughter. I was at your mercy, and your mercy alone. Ever since the first date we had years ago, I just wanted... no... I needed you to always be by my side. I love you, and I hope you feel the same in your heart."

🎮 You smiled and raised your hand under your veil to wipe a stray tear from your face as you then looked into his eyes and spoke your own vows

"Idia, you were everything I could've asked for. That may sound weird, but it's the truth. When I first met you, I thought you'd be one of the most difficult people to deal with, but I could never have been more wrong. You were charming in your own way, and you still are, without even trying! The way you link in technology in when you speak, the way you furrow your eyebrows when speaking, to the way your eyes shimmer when you find like or do something successfully, it's all enchanting to me. And I never want to let that enchantment go. And I never plan on it. I love you so much, Idia, forever and always."

🎮 He smiled at you as the Minister called for the rings, making Ortho come up and hand you both your wedding wings. Yours to Idia's being black with dark-blue colored edges, while Idia's to you was also black-ringed with a shining blue, heart-shaped gemstone on the top

🎮 You looked into his eyes once more as you placed the jewelry on his ring-finger while he did the exact same afterwards. All of his anxiety was now gone, nobody else was there besides you and him in his mind. You two were the only things that mattered

"You may kiss the bride." The Minister announced, stepping back for you both.

🎮 Idia lifted your veil before grabbing your waist and holding one side of your cheek with his hand and laying his forehead on yours, slowly moving to close the gap between your lips

🎮 Everyone cheered as you left one another's kiss and smiled, hugging one another as he whispered into your ear before setting off for the after-party with the people who attended your day

"I love you so damn much, Y/N."

[literaryavenger]

Broken

Summary: after Civil War you meet and bond with Bucky Barnes. You want to help him, but do you really realize how hard it's going to be?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Hints to eating disorder. Language probably, for now just fluff and innocent and broken Bucky. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: This is my first story, and it's taken me a long time to even decide to post it. As of now I honestly have no idea where this story is going, the idea just popped in my head and I ran with it. I do have the first three chapters ready and I'm starting the fourth, I hope I find a plot at some point, we'll see how this one does and go from there. Also, this was a reader version of a story I had on wattpad with an OC so I had to rewrite it accordingly so if there are any mistakes that's why, feel free to point them out so I can fix them thanks.

Masterlist

You enter the kitchen of the Avengers tower and saw two people sitting at the counter, immediately recognizing the one closer to the door.

"Stevie!" you practically yell, running towards the blonde man who stands up and opens his arms in time for you to jump on him, hugging him tightly while he raises you in the air and spins a little.

"Good morning, koala bear." he says while chuckling lightly.

"When did you come back?" you ask excitedly after a few minutes of hugging, not letting go just yet.

"Last night." he answered "Nat said you had just gone to sleep, I didn't wanna wake you."

"Steve, what's happening? Is she hurting you?" a voice you've never heard says.

You let go just enough for him to be able to put you back on the ground without letting go of you.

"It's okay, Buck, it's just a hug." he say to the other man as you turn a little to look at him better. He has a confused look on his face, at which Steve adds "It's just a way to express affection, it's fine."

At this you're a little confused yourself so you look at Steve who gives you a look that tells you not to question him, so you don't.

Instead you let go of Steve, turning completely towards his friend and stepping a little closer.

"Hi," you say looking at him and introducing yourself.

He doesn't look very comfortable so you don't try to shake his hand, choosing to wave a little with a smile.

He answers with a quiet "Bucky." while looking at the ground, like he's quite sure if he's even allowed to answer.

You tilt your head to the side, considering him for a second before saying "Do you want a hug, too? I promise I won't hurt you." you add quickly after he raises his head a little and you notice a slightly worried look on his face.

He thinks about it before just shrugging and nodding his head slightly.

"Okay. Do you... want to get up?" you hesitantly ask and he raises his head a little more, still not looking at your face but slowly getting up from his chair.

You glance at Steve who seems very interested in what's happening and is watching intently without making a sound. Your eyes meet for a few seconds and he raises an eyebrow and motions slightly towards his friend as if to tell you to keep going. You nod and get closer to Bucky until you're right in front of him.

You watch him for a couple of seconds and when his head stays lowered you decide to take the lead and move to put your arms around his neck, slowly so as not to startle him.

After several seconds of you gently hugging him while he stands with his arms to his sides, you're about to pull away when you feel him slowly move his arms to your lower back and keep them there lightly, being very careful like he was afraid of hurting you.

You smile a little into his shoulder and wait a couple of minutes before pulling away.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" you tease, your hands still on his shoulders.

He gives you a little smile and finally looks you in the eyes for the first time and, as soon as his eyes meet yours, you're transfixed by how blue they are.

You're not sure how long you two stay looking into each other's eyes, but you're brought back to reality by Bucky's voice.

"Are you okay?" he asks, seeming genuinely concerned.

"Yes? Um... if you ever want another hug I'm always up for it... I love giving hugs." you say smiling and taking your hands off his shoulders as he drops his arms to his sides again.

He drops his gaze to the ground again, while your eyes stay on his face and you see a small smile and a slight nod.

After a few more seconds of looking at him you turn around and start walking towards the fridge, passing Steve and noticing a weird smirk on his face.

"What?" you ask him with a confused look but still smiling.

"Nothing..." he says, still smirking.

"Okay, weirdo." you say back laughing a little.

"Okay, weirdo. Breakfast?" he asked.

"No, I'll just drink some water." you say casually, avoiding his eyes.

"Y/N..." he says warningly.

"It's fine, Stevie, I'm just not hungry." you say, still not looking at him and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

As soon as you turn around you're met with the slightly disappointed face of Steve and the confused face of Bucky.

"Besides I don't have to train until this afternoon..." Steve's worry doesn't fade, so you add "I'll eat something later, I swear." you don't know if he's convinced, but his face softens and he lets it go.

"How about you fill me in about what happened while I was gone?" he says, changing the subject with a sympathetic smile.

"Sure, I'll just take a shower first, is that okay?" He nods and you run to your room to take a quick shower.

After you come out you put on some sweatpants and a sports bra just to not have to change until after training.

You grab a hairbrush and run back downstairs where you find Steve waiting for you alone while sitting at the table.

"Hi koala, that was a quick shower." he says with a smile when he sees you.

You lean with your back to the counter in front of the table he's sitting at and start brushing your still damp hair.

"Yep, you know me it's either 5 minutes or 50." you say smiling while he chuckles. "Where'd your friend go?" you ask casually while concentrating on brushing away a knot in your hair.

"He went to take a shower. Last night he was so tired he practically passed out in the guest room."

You humm a response before asking "So, is he gonna live here now? You know, be a part of the team and all? Tony refused to share any details with me..." you add with disappointment, which you're sure he notices because of his answer.

"Tony's still not 100% okay with it, but he's getting there. You know how he is, he doesn't talk about things until he's finished processing them... anyway yes, he'll live here and eventually be part of the team, I hope."

You look up and think about his words before nodding and waiting for him to speak again, but when he doesn't you try to sound as casual as you can while asking questions about his friend. "Why did you have to tell him what a hug is?"

He doesn't look you in the eye and you know he's getting uncomfortable so you don't really expect him to answer. But he does nonetheless

"Buck's not really been himself for the last 70 years... he hasn't been shown a lot of kindness or humanity. That's why I was surprised that he let you hug him so fast. Don't get me wrong I'm happy about it, it's real progress I just wasn't expecting it so soon..." You let him talk without interrupting, pretending to be more concentrated on your hair than his word so as to not make him even more uncomfortable.

You know stories about Bucky in the 40s from Steve and you have seen photos of him, only in black and white, but it was nothing compared to having him in front of you. Something about him just made you want to know more, like you were drawn to him.

You guess Steve picked up on this because, after a little pause, he adds "Look, I know you want to know more, but it's not my story to tell. If and when he's ready, it's up to him who he wants to tell." damn him for knowing you so well.

Of course you understand what he was saying and you know he's right, so you nod and say "You're right... I won't push it, I promise." before he has time to reply though Bucky enters the kitchen with different clothes and wet hair.

To not let him know you were just talking about him Steve quickly says "So, tell me, what have I missed around here?"

You thought about it for a moment as you watch Bucky make his way through the kitchen and sit at the table next to Steve.

"Um, well, Tony made a new addition to the team. It was very abrupt and it's weird that he's so young, but he's a nice kid. His name is Peter, he's 15 from Queens and apparently he's this Spider-man that's been all over youtube. What?"

As you talked you could see a bit of guilt on Steve's face. "We've met him... didn't know he was a kid though..."

"Well, what happened?" you ask, getting more and more frustrated that no one will tell you anything.

You're part of the team after all, and, even though you don't have powers or are a super soldier, you think you have a right to know why everyone suddenly disappeared one day on some mission that you weren’t allowed to know anything about, and why it took half of the team a couple more weeks than the others to come back.

It's not that it was uncommon for you not to know details of a mission you weren't assigned to, but, since Fury chose you from the SHIELD agents to join the Avengers several years ago, it's never happened that a mission required the WHOLE team except one single person.

What pissed you off even more it's that you're not the youngest in the team, nor are you the newest or the least trained.

You started as a SHIELD agent right before Natasha, granted you were a teenager, but both of you trained a lot together with Clint and you fought alongside the other Avengers in the battle of New York.

You also fought together against Ultron, where you united forces with the Maximoff twins, Wanda and Pietro, (the latter had to spend a lot of time in the medbay after, having almost died) and then also Vision, which is still a little weird since you still have Jarvis controlling the tower.

In all of this time you developed family-like bonds with the whole team.

You honestly consider Tony a father figure, him and Pepper treat you like a daughter and you love them for it. Rhodey, Happy and Bruce are like uncles.

Natasha is like a big sister and Wanda is like a younger one. Clint, Thor and even Loki (since he's been made to spend his exile with you as punishment for New York) have been like big brothers to you, Vision and Pietro are kind of like younger brothers, and now even Peter the last few months.

Scott is another new face that's quickly becoming a chaotic best friend. Sam is like a best friend that still shamelessly flirts with you, after years, obviously knowing nothing is going to happen.

And Steve is your absolute best friend, your favorite brother. He's overprotective (to be fair they all are when it comes to you) and caring, can't really say no to you, spoils you a little and you love every minute of it.

They are your family, and having them keep what feels like a very serious and important situation from you, and only you, not only makes you extremely angry, but it's also very sad to think they don't trust you enough.

Or at least that's what it feels like even though they keep telling you that's absolutely not the case.

You can see how uncomfortable Bucky is getting, while Steve is looking more and more guilty by the second, but neither is saying anything, so you just give up.

"Fine," you say, a little disappointed. "Don't tell me. I guess I'll have to wait on Tony to know."

You don't wait for them to answer as you bring your attention to Bucky.

"Can I?" you ask him while pointing to his hair with the brush that you just finished using on yourself.

He gives just you a confused look, so you explain. "Your hair is pretty long, it would be better if you brushed it before it dries otherwise it hurts like hell to do it later."

He looks at Steve with an uncertain expression, and, when the blonde just shrugs in response, Bucky looks back at you and nods.

You go around the table and position yourself behind Bucky. "I'll be as gentle as I can, but I'm sorry if I hurt you. If you want me to stop, just say so, okay?"

He nods again and you start to slowly and carefully brush his hair while telling Steve all the things you did with the others while he was gone.

The mysterious mission happened about 3 months ago, half of the team came back after a day, the others a couple of weeks later, while Steve and Bucky were the only ones to come back just now.

You tell Steve how you bonded with Peter over being "Tony's children", how Scott became something of a girlfriend and the time you spent with him and his daughter, Cassie, who was just adorable.

You tell him about the weird best friend-like friendship that Peter and Loki developed, much to Tony's annoyance, but that you find very cute and funny.

You tell him about all the pranks that you pulled with anyone and against everyone, specially with Sam, Scott and Loki and against Happy, Clint and Thor.

Steve knows everyone in the team is very quick to forgive you, he always jokes about how you have everyone wrapped around your finger, especially Tony.

And you have to admit, he's not totally wrong. Nobody really stays mad at you for more than a couple of days, and sometimes you're definitely treated like the kid of the family. The golden child.

Even Fury has a soft spot for you, which is very rare, to the point that you're the only one allowed to call him Nick.

You also tell Steve of all the "family time" he missed, which is essentially a whole lot of movie nights, game nights and things like that.

You tell him all the jokes you can remember being said, all the funny moments, all the missions and all the times when you missed him like crazy.

By the time you're done telling him everything you could remember, he's crying laughing and you're almost done with Bucky's hair.

"Are you okay? Am I hurting you?" you ask Bucky, as Steve tries to compose himself, still laughing at the prank you and Sam pulled on Clint where you turned his whole room into a giant bird's nest.

Bucky shakes his head and says a quiet "I'm okay" that you're sure Steve doesn't even hear over his own laughter.

You gently finish brushing his hair, then sit in the chair next to him leaning in and gently turning his head towards you so you can check you did a complete job.

At this point his hair is dry and falling down both sides of his face. You push his hair behind his ears to see his face better and smile, his eyes scanning your face.

Neither of you take notice that Steve has stopped laughing and is watching you with the same smirk he had after you hugged as you're both too intent in taking in each other's appearances.

"Is that better?" you ask after a few minutes of silence.

"What?" he ask, a little confused, which makes you giggle.

"Your hair. Is that better?" you ask again.

"Oh. Yeah, thank you." he says blushing, his voice still very quiet.

"You're adorable." you said with another giggle that makes Steve laugh too, while Bucky blushes even more.

You smile at him again before getting up, giving Steve a kiss on the side of the head while you pass him and going towards the door. "I'll see you guys at lunch. I'm supposed to meet Scott and Cassie in 10 minutes. Bye, Stevie."

"Bye, koala bear." Steve answers.

"Bye, Bucky."

"Bye." he says, still kind of quiet but loud enough for you to hear.

You turn around and give him one last smile before going through the living room to the elevator and to the floor that Scott's now living in and where Cassie spent the night.

part 2

[regretmedaisy]

i can see you - tom riddle x fmc/reader

part II

loosely inspired by "i can see you" by taylor swift.

“I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it”

summary: She had always fancied Tom Riddle. It was an infatuation that bordered on love and obsession, that she had secretly grown and cared for, content with indulging in her fantasies and never bold enough to try and make them become reality.

When she meets him again in her adulthood, dormant longings resurface together with a newfound desire to be the object of his own devotion.

As their paths keep crossing, she starts to think he feels the same.

tags: afab mc, use of female pronouns and no descriptors (i tagged it as x reader because i guess it could be read as such if you use the same pronouns), somewhat period-accurate clothing, courtship (just a little because it's still tom riddle), fmc has a crush on tom, she's a bit anxious, a bit of fluff, explicit sexual desire, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, woman is on top.

please note that mc has a crush on tom, therefore the way she refers to him could sound a bit cheesy and exaggerated. i edited this last night and didn't read it again before posting. i'm sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes i missed.

bear with her in this one, she's a little anxious.

words: 6.7K

you can find part I here, I strongly recommend you read that one first.

this is me crawling out of my hole of shame to post this chapter.

i'm really sorry for this very late update, but the smut chapter is finally here after many days of writing (but still in time for smutober lol).

it's not crazy smut, but i hope it was worth the wait.

Part II: And I could see you up against the wall with me

She tapped her foot, pursing her red lips as she jotted a few numbers down on a parchment. She sighed, taking another folder from the pile on her side and checking if the reports corresponded. 

When Serena, her boss, had showed up that morning with two delivery men in tow, she already knew her day was going to take a detestable turn.

Serena had dropped three boxes full of last year's reports in the office and sprinted out of the door before they could say anything and try to stop her.

Apparently she had hired a cheap accountant to save money and now she had to review everything before the Ministry noticed and demanded an audit. Or rather, Serena had asked her to do it.

She was now holed up in the backroom while Will had taken her place in the main office, since Serena didn’t pay her enough to care about customers and save her from bankruptcy at the same time.

She glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost time for her usual break. She chewed the inside of her cheek and returned to the reports.

She wasn’t in the right mindset to meet Tom.

The day she had gone to see him had been like the calm before the literal storm. In the past week it had rained so heavily that she had had to give up on going out and he hadn’t come to post his letters. What had happened between them had been left unresolved.

She had replayed it so many times in her mind, at night and during idle moments in the office, picturing different ways in which it could have ended, desperately wishing she could indulge in his warm lips again.

The first few days she had fretted about it, but as the week had gone by without a word from him, she had just started to accept it as the normal course of things. Perhaps it had just been an extraordinary event, a moment that wasn’t going to repeat itself and that she needed to find contentment in. Perhaps it was supposed to be one of those memories she was going to return to in twenty years, thinking about everything she could have had, or it will sour in her mind, turning into regret while her lamenting soul grieved the possibilities of youth, the chances she had been too scared to take.

It didn’t matter that she was conscious of the anxious butterflies leading her decisions, she still didn’t want to find out if what she saw in him was just a product of her infatuated imagination.

She immersed herself in numbers, refusing to go down that rabbit hole again.

Fifteen minutes after the end of her break, a customer walked in. A beat of silence followed and then Will said, “She’s in the back.”

She almost jumped out of her seat, her heart rate picking up. She quickly smoothed her hair and sat straighter, crossing her legs.

Tom appeared in the doorway, his arm half raised as if he had wanted to knock. She pretended she had just noticed him.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hello, Tom.” She gave him a mellow smile.

He was so good-looking, with his perfectly styled curls and black coat in the muted light of the cloudy morning. Her heart fluttered painfully.

He looked hesitant as he made his way to her and handed her a folded magazine. It was the weekly crossword.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it as her gaze met his. The way he was looking at her was so compelling it was impossible for her to divert her eyes.

He had been thinking of her, she realised, he had noticed her absence, perhaps even missed her.

“I hope I’m not disrupting your work.” His gaze trailed to the numerous papers scattered on the table.

“Not at all, a distraction is more than welcome.” The distraction of his presence was most desirable.

He drew closer, reading through them as he casually rested his hand on the back of her chair.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Maths mostly,” she replied, fiddling with the parchments to hide her nervousness.

He reached out over her shoulder to grab a folder but she placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“I’d rather you didn’t. It’s still work.”

He dropped his arm. “You’re right, I apologise. I don’t wish to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“It’s fine.”

He stepped to the side, tickling her neck.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked.

She had to stop herself from grinning.

“Of course.” 

She watched him with desirous parted lips as he left. He said goodbye to Will and she heard the door closing. It was only a matter of minutes before Will came to pry.

She grabbed the crossword, flipping through the pages. He had bought her her favourite one.

As she got up to put it next to her bag, a small note fell to the ground. It was a plain piece of parchment. But as she picked it up, ready to throw it on the table with the rest of the documents, words started to appear.

Her breath caught in her throat. She knew to whom that elegant and neat handwriting belonged.

She read the note. Then read it again to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. 

“I hope to see you more often in the future.

You look stunning with that lip colour.

T.R.”

She brought her fingers to her mouth, staring at the words until each swirl of ink etched into her mind, terrified they might disappear.

Instead his message remained there, visible, tangible, real. He had taken time to write her a note, to think about something he knew she’d appreciate.

Something warm diffused in her chest, a new version of a familiar feeling, and a giggle escaped her as she realised the ridiculous effect he had on her. 

She was so engrossed in her reverie that she didn’t notice Will standing in the door until he cleared his throat. 

She quickly hid the message in her purse and  he was so considerate not to comment on it.

“How is it going?” he asked.

“Awfully slowly, these numbers are all over the place,” she huffed, returning to her chair.

He dragged a chair and sat across from her. He started bouncing his knee. “I know you’d prefer not to talk about this, but how are things between you two?”

She stopped twirling her quill. “What do you mean?”

Will shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you but I’d hate to see you hurt.”

She tilted her head to the side, disliking the territory the conversation was heading towards.

He was struggling with his words. “He never- I never saw him interested in a girl. I just want to be sure you know what you can expect from him.”

She averted her eyes. “I have considered all the options.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know, Will!” she bursted out. 

Her flare of annoyance suddenly deflated, making room for embarrassment for what he probably saw as naivety.

“I know I’m probably getting ahead of myself.”

“You are smart, I just can’t stand watching you smile at the things he writes to you.”

She feigned offence and threw a balled up paper at him. 

“When you find someone, you’ll be just as ridiculous.”

He laughed and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I’m curious to know, when did it start?”

She scrunched her eyebrows, thinking about how much she wanted to reveal. “I don’t remember exactly. It was more like a sequence of events, until one day I was anxiously waiting for him to sit at his usual spot at breakfast,” she replied with a smile. Will was smiling too.

“You and half of Hogwarts,” he said.

She chuckled. “I miss those years sometimes. Everything was simpler.”

“I used to worry about everything,” he admitted. “But fears always seem so big.”

They really did.

“What do you like about him?” he asked after a beat of silence.

It was her turn to be at a loss of words. “He’s handsome…and always so mysterious. I think I always liked him because it was easy to imagine him being exactly what I wanted.” She looked at him hesitantly, fearing judgement, but he was just listening. “But I think it’s impossible for me to dislike the real him.”

They shared a small moment of closure. She had always wished for someone she could confide in, someone that could help her see beyond the fabrications of her wary heart, and perhaps she had finally found them.

The bell chimed and Will got up. 

“Do you want to come for lunch on Sunday?” she asked.

“I’d love to. I’m sorry for earlier, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

His gaze shifted between the door and her. “Just make sure you both want the same thing.”

He went back, leaving her at the mercy of her insidious brain and foolish heart.

Throughout the afternoon she had opened the note at least three times, giggling like a schoolgirl everytime she read his words.

Her mind kept straying to what he had said.

“I’ll see you later.”

She wasn’t sure what he had actually meant. Was he just going to stop by or was he going to wait for the office to close? She wasn’t even sure she could see him today, since she expected to stay late to solve Serena’s mess. 

Will popped in. “I have to check something at the owlery. I’ll be back in a while.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.”

The door opened and closed and then she was submerged by stillness. It was soothing almost.

She had found out long ago that she enjoyed being alone, it freed her of any kind of expectation.

She turned up the heating with her wand and took off her jacket. Since they couldn’t light a fireplace in a room full of paper, they had refined a spell that kept the room warm and the humidity away.

It was a few minutes after the usual closing hour that the door opened again. She knew who it was.

He walked in, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold and his lips reddened. 

“Are you still working?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m afraid it’ll take a while before I’m free to go.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said, grabbing her crossword and a quill and sitting down on a chair, bending one leg so that his ankle rested on his other knee.

Her face heated as she watched him but she didn’t say anything.

As she returned to her work, she realised that silence was a strange assistant. It felt like every sound was heightened and she was becoming keenly aware of everything that was happening. The scratching of their quill on parchment, paper being flipped as she checked the numbers or he looked for a crossword he liked, his soft breath threatening to pull her close like a magnet, her absentmindedly chipping her nail polish.

She kept throwing glances in his direction and she could feel his eyes on her from time to time.

An unspoken craving was growing between them again. She had waited long enough.

She slowly got up, gathering her reports and stacking them in a neat pile. She then took them and walked over to the shelves, conveniently passing by Riddle in doing so. 

As she stored them, his chair scraped on the ground and she felt him draw closer. She deliberately turned around, meeting his eyes.

His gaze was deep, like he was trying to read every thought that crossed her mind just by looking at her. She wasn’t going to lay them bare for him. 

He raised his hand, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you get my message?”

“I did,” she replied, stepping forward and trailing her fingers down his suit jacket, feeling the fabric. “You keep mentioning it but this is the first time I’ve seen you all week.”

“It was storming all week,” he pointed out.

She tilted her head, finding his eyes again. His eagerness was palpable. “Still,” she said.

He grabbed her waist, pressing her body flush against his. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

She had thought about that moment since then.

“Tell me what you desire the most.”

What could she tell him? That she had been pining for him for so long she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone else? That she was jealous of even thinking about him with someone else? Will’s words played in her mind.

She leaned closer, murmuring against his ear. “Not until I know why you’re here, Tom.”

She left a kiss on his jaw, phantom lips brushing against his flawless skin.

“It’s a really uncomplicated answer,” he said, caressing her back.

“Explain it to me, then.”

Tender amusement tugged at the corners of his lips. “Do you really think I came here because I don’t own an owl?”

His words pulled at her heartstrings with raw delight and her mind went blank. Adrenaline was rushing through her as she listened to her impulses. It was enough, at least for now it was enough.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her hand in his hair, involuntarily tugging at the strands as she leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath as he pulled her in, gripping the silky fabric of her blouse.

She met his lips halfway, the burning touch consuming her as he pressed her against the shelves, one hand lost in her hair, the other splayed around her ribcage. 

She bit his lower lip, smiling as it elicited a groan from him and the kiss became more demanding.

It was a moment frozen in time, where she wanted to stay forever, like the scenery in a snowglobe.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice abruptly pulled them apart. She was breathless as she realised she had forgotten to lock the door. Was this a conspiracy? 

Tom was slightly panting and she left a small kiss on his neck.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered.

She used a finger to fix her smudged lipstick and went to see who had just dared to interrupt them.

There was a man standing in the office.

“We’re closed,” she said.

“But I saw the light on.”

There was a twitch in her jaw. “We are closed to the public. I must ask you to come tomorrow morning.”

He rolled his eyes and she ignored his grumbling as he left, locking the door behind him. When she went back, Tom was leaning against the table.

He turned his head towards her as she languidly got closer. She forgot pleasantries, immediately grabbing his face to kiss him again. He was quick to react, wrapping his arms around her.

His mouth trailed down, kissing her cheek, her jaw and then pressing against her neck, soft lips and the occasional scrape of his teeth. 

He grabbed her waist and spun her around, flattening her back against his chest and brushing her hair away from her neck to bite and lick her skin. His hands travelled down and he started gathering the fabric of her skirt. 

Merlin, it was finally happening. 

He caressed her inner thigh, tracing patterns and snapping the nylon of her stockings as his fingers moved excruciatingly slow.

Finally he pulled her underwear to the side, feeling the wetness between her folds with his fingers as his other hand cupped her breast.

She threw her head back against his shoulder as he stroked her clit, eliciting a sigh out of her, and she grabbed his thigh for support.

“I won’t drop you,” he murmured, amused, against her ear. He rubbed his palm over her clothed breast, the friction causing sparks to jolt through her body.

None of her fantasies came even close to what she was feeling right now.

“Should I trust you?” she asked, biting her lip to suppress a moan as he sunk one finger inside of her, his thumb still applying pressure on her clit.

“Such a great timing to ask me that,” he replied. She felt him smile on her skin.

“We don’t really know each other, Tom.” She dug her fingers into his flesh as he slipped in a second finger and started fingering her, stretching her as pleasure morphed her features. 

“And yet you are letting me do this.” He squeezed her breast, lewd wet sounds filling the room as he kept moving his fingers inside of her. 

She leaned her body weight completely on him, her legs unsteady as it was precarious the beating of her heart. 

He let out a low moan as she yanked his hair to catch his mouth, biting his lip hard to gain better access, their tongues tangling together.

He curled his fingers inside of her, an unrelenting wave of pleasure washing over her.

She stopped to imagine what it would be like if he dropped to his knees again, if he started kissing and licking her, if she could watch him at her mercy between her legs.

She realised in that moment that the fall down the precipice was inevitable. Tom had threatened to push her but she had allowed him to succeed, jumping into an abyss that felt unending but that could only allow two conclusions to her story.

What she had told Will was true. She loved the fantasy, all the glances, conversations, gestures that had never happened, that she had delighted herself with when the reality was harsher, but as she kissed him she knew that falling for the real Tom was unavoidable. Not if he kept touching her like that.

It was bound to happen, it was part of her story, the decision she was brave enough to take.

She focused on him, on the circles his thumb was drawing on her clit, on the indecent sounds falling from her lips, on his groans on her reddened skin, on him growing harder against her back. 

He pulled her hair back, tilting her head to meet her gaze. His eyes glimmered with rapture while hers were heavy-lidded, tension building inside of her. 

He didn’t take his eyes off of her, as if he wanted to memorise each detail of her, the way she looked at him, the way her lips parted slightly and the way she panted as she was nearing her orgasm.

“Just like that, darling,” he murmured, a pleased smile on his lips as he noticed she was still blushing.

She threw her head back, losing herself in the motion of his fingers, surrendering herself as blissed moans spilled out shamelessly. She squeezed his soaked fingers, and he kept moving, stroking her throughout her climax.

She panted, coming down from her apex in a flurry of emotions and flustered thoughts. He raised his wet fingers to her lips and she opened her mouth, tasting herself on her tongue as she sucked on them, never breaking eye contact.

“Good girl,” he said, holding her jaw and kissing her.

It was a slow kiss, meant to explore her depths in a different way from the breathless and unrestrained passion from before. She leaned into his palm, her hand closing around his wrist.

His arms snaked around her waist and he turned them around, pushing under her thighs to lift her on the table.

The kiss transformed again.

Teeth and tongues met with vehemence, burning urgency guiding their movements as he brought her legs around his waist and she quickly started to unbutton her blouse.

But at the third button, she stopped. 

Tom noticed the shift in her demeanour and drew back, observing her. Her eyes flew to the clock, as she had just remembered about Will.

She noticed with disappointment that they had no time.

“What is it?” he asked. She didn’t miss the urgent tone of his question.

“Will will be back any time now,” she replied, leaving a peck on his lips. 

He cleared his throat and stepped back, composing himself. She got off the table and

cool hands unexpectedly reached her again, adjusting her clothes and stockings. She shivered at the contact.

He smoothed her skirt and put his coat back on, watching her as she scribbled something on a piece of paper and gave it to him.

“If you want to stop by one of these days.”

“I remember where you live,” he replied, reading the address she had written down.

She shrugged, holding out one finger to wipe away the lipstick at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you have to go back to work?”

“I was supposed to meet with a potential supplier, so yes.”

“I’d stop by the bathroom before,” she advised, gesturing for him to go as she herself needed to compose herself again.

She braced herself against the threshold, leaning her head on the hard wood as she watched him unlock the door and leave. 

Then she was alone, finally finding an answer in the cluster of hypotheses that had tormented her mind.

Two days later, as she was returning from her meeting with Serena, she found Tom waiting for her.

He was talking to Will and they both turned to her as she entered, feeling tremendously self-conscious.

“How is Serena?” Will asked.

“Dim-witted as always,” she replied, earning a laugh from Will.

Her eyes trailed to Riddle, holding an unspoken question. 

Will seemed to notice because he stepped forwards.

“It’s quite late, you can go if you want, I’ll close.”

Tom didn’t wait for him to repeat himself, pushing down the handle and holding the door open for her.

She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him and followed Tom outside. Once in the street, she huddled herself in her coat and took the arm he was offering her. 

“May I walk you home?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, a little breathy, still not immune to the chivalrous manners he always had with her.

They strolled through the streets, passing by scarcer and scarcer people as the stores emptied and everyone returned home seeking a tranquil evening.

She held his arm tightly, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the fabric of his coat.

The first time they had walked together it had felt like an accident, a singular mistake in the already waved threads of her life. This time, she yearned for so much more than she wanted for the error to repeat itself; she was willing to cut the strings herself and tie them back together, as messy as it might have looked. 

They crossed the road and he gently put a hand on her waist, pushing her away from the pavement. 

“Would you fancy dinner?” he asked. There was a foreign quality in his voice and when she turned to look at him, he averted his eyes. She blinked bewildered. Was he nervous?

“I’d love to,” she replied and she noticed his chest rising like he had just begun breathing again. “But not tonight.”

An almost imperceptible smile cleared his expression at her answer and she leaned her head on his shoulder, basking in his mere presence.

When they reached her front door, she looked for her keys with embarrassingly clammy hands. 

As she lifted her head to ask Tom if he wanted to stay, she found his eyes impatiently boring into her bag. 

“Would you-”

His gaze snapped to her, serious and scorching. “Don’t even ask.”

Something coiled between her legs at the way he was looking at her. She nodded and walked up the few stairs to her door, unlocking it.

“Second floor,” she said, more to fill the silence than anything else.

They stepped into the building, the sound of her heels and the soles of his shoes hitting the stone ricocheting through the empty hall.

She turned to gesture to him to follow her when he grabbed her face, kissing her as he pushed her against the wall by the foot of the stairs. Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging at it just as she suspected he loved by the way he always pressed himself harder against her. 

He curved his palm around her cheek, better angling her face as their tongues met.

“I have a nosy neighbour,” she said after they pulled apart to catch their breath. “She is probably spying on us through her peephole.”

Tom didn’t think twice about it, taking her hand and leading her up to the second floor. She stifled a laugh as she unlocked the door, Tom’s lips skimming against her neck as she did, and was left breathless when he closed it unceremoniously behind them, resuming from where they had been interrupted.

As she dropped her bag and grabbed his waist, walking backwards into her living room, she remembered there were clothes somewhere - perhaps in the bathroom but she wasn’t sure - that she had forgotten to put away yesterday.

In any case, Tom didn’t look particularly interested in how tidy she was.

They quickly took off each other's coats and discarded them on the floor.

He sat on her sofa, pulling her down with him.

She was straddling him, her knees digging into the plush cushions as his hands appreciatively caressed her back, moving up and down and occasionally squeezing. She lit the fireplace with a wave of her hand.

She rocked her hips, rubbing against him and eliciting a long awaited moan from him. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, their lips collading so hard she was sure she cut him.

She helped him out of his jacket and vest and undid his tie, smoothing her hands on his white button-down.

“I’ve waited too long,” she said, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and grinding against him. Her hands disappeared under his undershirt and ran over his pale chest, lightly scratching his skin.

“Slowly, my dear. We will get there,” he replied between kisses.

His palms kept tracing her thighs and his face buried in her neck, nibbling at the thin skin.

When she was a small girl, before she discovered sex, Tom Riddle was just a boy she liked. During puberty, sharing stories and questions with her friends, she started to understand what was the sensation that passed through her everytime she was close to him, the one that made her cheeks redden and her mind go somewhere she wasn’t yet comfortable with.

As an adult, sexual relations weren’t unfamiliar to her, but this carnal longing, the need of a physicality that went beyond her skin touching his, was.

He opened her blouse, revealing her silk slip and bra underneath.

She wanted to touch his soul, to hold it and comprehend it.

Her eyes fell on the tattoo on his forearm, black tendrils of ink in the shape of a serpent slithering out of a skull.

“Does this have a meaning?” she asked.

He followed her gaze, blinking surprised at her question. “It does.”

“Am I prying too much if I say I’m curious to learn it?”

He bit his lip, opening and closing his fist as if he was scrambling for words. Or perhaps he was just determining if he could trust her.

“It’s a reinterpretation of the ouroboros, the snake eating its own tail,” he finally said. “It symbolises eternity and the renewal of the being after rebirth.”

She traced her fingers on his skin, following the outline of the snake. “And what does your interpretation mean?”

“There is time to talk about it later,” he whispered, his teeth biting her neck and sinking lower, kissing her collarbone and her sternum, moving the fabric covering her breasts to the side.

She let go of the subject. She knew what it meant not being comfortable sharing your life.

He held one breast between his fingers, latching his mouth over the other, sucking her nipple and twirling his tongue around it.

She moaned, rolling her hips faster as he revered her bosom, the cold air hitting her moist skin and making her shiver as he took her other nipple in his mouth, lightly tugging at it until she reached the point where pleasure and discomfort mixed.

“Since we are in the mood for confessions…” she said between moans. He raised his head and looked at her waiting for her to continue. She hesitated, collecting all her courage.

“Why did you pursue me?”

His eyes softened, glimmering with fondness. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“Because there is something extremely valuable in your devotion.” His voice was an intimate murmur, a confession no one else could hear.

She freezed, turning her head to the side to hide her mortification.

He took her chin, searching for her eyes until she finally gave in.

“Don’t be embarrassed, darling, I respect it, I understand it. Obsession keeps us alive, it’s what drives us.”

She swallowed the lump of embarrassment in her throat. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Being the object of the desire of such a woman? Of a witch? I do,” he replied, and he was so direct and earnest that her heart swelled.

He lifted her to sit on the sofa, sliding down on his knees on the floor and taking off his shirt and vest. She remained silent as he rolled down her tights, his lips gliding down her smooth skin. He unbuttoned her skirt and helped her out of it, tracing patterns on her inner thigh as his other hand felt her damp underwear.

She tensed, something tightening in her lower abdomen and her eyes fell down to his trousers.

He kissed the crease of the thigh, like he had done that one time at Borgin and Burkes, but this time she wasn’t letting anyone interrupt them. 

He took off her underwear, his movements deliberately slow, and kissed her everywhere, except there.

His lips felt hot on her skin, searing her flesh like she had often dreamed about, carving his way into her body the same way he had done with her mind and heart, until her entire soul was consumed by him, until he could finally close that fist and feel her in a way nobody had before. 

Her breath hitched as he delicately kissed her mound, spreading her legs apart. She leaned her head against the backrest, licking her lips with anticipation, and she couldn’t contain a whimper as he felt his tongue dragging down her slit, sweet and cruel.

He took her clit in his mouth, sucking on it as his hand splayed on her abdomen to keep her still.

She squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed.

“Look at me, darling,” he murmured against her folds. His breath was warm and pleasant.

She obliged, meeting his devilish grinning figure between her legs. She was incapable of looking away as he resumed his work, she didn’t want to look away. She wanted to watch him, finally allowing herself to fully indulge in him, in what he wished to do for her.

She observed his curved eyelashes, the way his perceptive eyes followed her reactions, refining his movements to please her better.

He sucked her labia and she moaned loudly, the idea of him enjoying this as much as her being exhilarating.

He threw her leg on his shoulder, resulting in her figure sliding down the cushions and him gaining better access to her. 

His tongue probed her entrance as he coated his fingers in her wetness. He slipped one finger in, working her thoroughly as she gripped his hair, keeping his head in place.

He inserted a second finger, his tongue on her clit moving accordingly to the delighted sounds she emitted.

“Tom,” she cried urgently as she tried to press herself harder against him.

He curled his fingers inside of her and her hips jolted upwards, arching her back to an uncomfortable angle as she reached her orgasm with lascivious bliss, her obscene moans matching the wet sounds he produced by licking her until she came down from her climax.

“Tom,” she said again, so breathless her voice was a raspy whisper.

“I know,” he said, kissing her leg and inhaling deeply, like he was trying to commit the moment to memory.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as she let her watch.

She gently pushed him onto the carpet, bracing her hands on his shoulder as she sat on top of him. The fire was burning, enveloping their almost naked figures in warm orange light, heating their already scalding skin.

She took off her blouse with quivery hands, his gaze tracing her naked form that was slowly revealing itself. She hooked her fingers into the straps of her slip, pulling it down and then getting rid of it altogether. His hands on her waist tensed as she did the same for her bra.

Her lips parted as he touched her breast with both hands, kneading the soft flesh, tracing her areolae. 

She undid his trousers, pulling down the fabric until they were both completely naked. She took him in her hand, her fingers closing tentatively around him. Her hand started sliding up and down, her pace getting quicker and more confident as moans escaped him. She brushed her thumb on his tip, her eyes admiring what was in front of her. His lips were swollen, residue of her lipstick still on them, his hair was tousled, curls falling disorderly on his forehead, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looked at her. She felt a rush of satisfaction in knowing his current state was her doing, that she had enough power over him to ruin his flawless exterior, to make him want her to do it. 

His lips caught hers and he gently pushed her hand away. 

What happened after felt like rehearsed choreography, something so familiar it was impossible to forget. Their bodies moved together, their movements responsive to each other, doing and touching exactly where it mattered.

She pushed herself up on her knees, slowly lowering herself until she sank down on him completely, shuddering breaths escaping her lips.

His jaw was tense as she placed a hand on his shoulder for support, positioning herself better.

She didn’t break eye contact as she rolled her hips, soaking in the hazy blue of his eyes, in every twitch of his jaw and emotion he was feeling as she increased her pace, in his voice murmuring her name against her ear as his hands squeezed her tights and traced her back.

Skin slapped against skin, his touch inebriating as he felt every part of her, caressing her, massaging her, kissing her until she couldn’t take it anymore. Almost.

His hand dipped between her legs again, stroking her clit as she rocked her hips, eliciting groans from both of them.

Sentiment and pleasure fused together in an exhilarating moment, seared in her mind and flesh forever.

She kissed him again - she could never get tired of that - and bit his lower lip roughly as his other hand went to her breast again, pulling at her nipple. 

She threw her head back, letting his mouth scrape over her neck and chest, leaving behind scorching wet kisses. Or perhaps those were marks reddening her skin, she didn’t particularly care.

He gripped her waist, thrusting upwards as she held onto him tighter. Her nails drew half-moons into his back and she bit his neck, the fibres of the carpet scratching her knees.

The lights in the flat fluttered momentarily.

His fingers increased the pressure on her clit as his thrusts grew in intensity with one purpose in mind. 

She bit her lip, trying to hold back, to prolong this instant of pure bliss before she inevitably plummeted onto the other side.

She arched her back, moving accordingly to his rhythm, her hips bucking erratic as she rubbed against his pelvis. 

And then she fell down, unrestrained, her walls closing around him as she moaned uncontrollably. He didn’t stop, drawing circles on her sensitive skin until her breath found a semblance of steadiness again. 

“You did so good,” he whispered against her forehead, brushing a strand of sweaty hair away.

She slumped against him, her hands grabbing onto his biceps as he chased his own pleasure, his movements turning frantic, losing his rhythm.

She found herself murmuring against his skin the same things she had never had the courage to say out loud, not even to herself. She wasn’t sure he was even listening to her, engrossed as he was, but it didn’t matter.

He squeezed her tights once and she understood, rolling to the side as he deftly touched himself, fast strokes that culminated in white spurts all over his hand. She watched him mesmerised

He turned to look at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The fire casted shadows on his gorgeous face. 

They stayed like that for a long moment, gazing into each other, trying to guess what the other was thinking, making sense of what remained of themselves after what had just happened.

Did it have the same momentous effect on both of them? Or was it just her that knew she couldn’t go back to being acquaintances after this?

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” she asked. Her voice sounded faint and husky to her own ears.

“I do,” he replied without a second of hesitation.

They didn’t get up, instead resting against the foot of her sofa. She curled up against him as his hand traced indistinct patterns on her skin, remaining in this haze of indiscernible unspoken feelings they were both still trying to find a name for. 

When she woke up the next morning he was gone. As she took in the cold sheets and missing clothes, her heart threatened to crack.

She got up groggily, conclusions already forming in her mind, building the most pessimistic of pictures.

She felt anxious as she wore her robe and opened the door, heading straight for the bathroom. Halfway down the corridor, the sound of someone flipping through a newspaper halted her in her steps.

She stepped into the kitchen, finding Tom sitting in a chair with his legs crossed.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she said back, adjusting the belt of her robe. 

She noticed he had made breakfast, a steaming coffee pot, kept warm by magic, and some pastries she had never bought waiting for her on the table. 

She turned to take a mug from a cabinet so that she could hide her smitten smile. When she closed the cabinet, she found him looking at her.

There was no need for words.

“Where did you get that?” she asked as she poured herself some coffee, referring to the newspaper. 

“I stole it from your neighbour, I hope she won’t mind.”

She laughed. “So you know how to make a joke.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She sat next to him, crossing her legs. She perhaps needed to rethink her choice of slippers.

“You were always so serious growing up.”

She put a spoonful of sugar in her coffee. 

“That never seemed to deter you.”

“It doesn’t.”

He took a sip of his own coffee. “Good.”

“Does it deter you, knowing how I feel?”

He blinked. “It never had. It makes it more interesting if I have to be honest.”

She blushed, scared to ask the next question.

“How long have you known?”

He got up, brushing his knuckles on her cheek.

“Long enough to see you for who you truly are.” 

He bent to give her a chaste kiss. “I should go, the shop opens in half an hour.”

He put on his coat and grabbed his leather gloves from his pocket. She turned in her chair, treasuring the last few moments of him in her apartment.

“There’s still a lot you haven’t learned yet.” 

She refused to be an open book to him. There was so much about her that was still incomprehensible even to her and too much she wanted to show him on her own terms. She wanted to be enigmatic, to drive him mad.

“I know.”

Her disappointment was visible on her face as she was met with his silence. She had wanted to continue that conversation, to learn what he had observed.

Instead he opened her front door, throwing her one last glance, heavy with unsaid intention she hoped she wasn’t imagining, before leaving. 

She had almost finished her breakfast when she noticed a small note under the newspaper he had left behind. She grabbed it faster than she was willing to admit, almost knocking over her cup in the process, and unfolded it.

“Dinner tonight?

I’ll pick you up at eight.

T.R.”

the last part is a bonus scene i wanted to write to apologize for my tardiness. tom is a little different, but I hope he isn't too out of character.

i honestly had so much fun writing this short story and exploring a different tom from the one i usually read and write about. i hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading!

[gemini-stories]

remember me | j.wy x reader

synopsis: the years may have passed but he always remembered you. even when you didn't. pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader genre: idol!AU, friends to strangers to partners to lovers (?), smut (minors do not interact!!) warnings: idol wooyoung, idol reader, smut, face riding, cunnilingus, protected vaginal penetration (wrap it before you tap it), oral (female receiving), reader is bitchy, one sided pining, wooyoung is dumbly in love. if I miss anything pls let me know! word count: 7.6k ish a/n: tbh I wanted to get out of my comfort writing zone and decided to post my first fic here! this was supposed to be a one shot but it was getting too long for my liking, so maybe a part 2? anyways I'm open to any feedback and criticism so don't be shy to let me know and if you'd actually like to read the second part (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

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The first time Wooyoung saw you was at the Junior Local Dance Competition you both participated when you were both 10 years old. He was dancing for the first time in front of a public after he started dance lessons three months ago. He messed up the steps. He was so nervous that he forgot a step and after that the whole choreography was a mess. He was on the floor sulking, in a corner backstage, far from anyone. 

“I knew I'd find you here crying,” you said with a warm smile. 

Wooyoung raised his glance towards you.

“I’m not crying!” he said embarrassed, crimson blossoming on his cheeks. 

“Yet. You’re upset and in the crying corner.You were about to cry if i wouldn’t have come here.” 

“Crying corner?” he asked, looking at the pink ruffles of your dress.

“We all come to this corner after our first performance. Usually everyone’s first performance is bad. Like really bad. So everyone who wants to cry and wants to do so alone comes here.”

He brought his knees to his chest and hid his face. “So I was really bad. Maybe I should quit before it’s too late.”

“Hey,” you lightly pushed his shoulder, your voice calm, “if we all were to quit, no one would come to this competition again. You should’ve seen me here the first time, I was a disaster,” you chuckled.

Wooyoung was emotionless. You seriously had to lighten him up somehow, otherwise he might mean what he is saying. You wished someone would have cheered you up when you were in his place four years ago. Now, you felt it was your duty to do it for someone else, so they wouldn’t go through a spiraling of self doubt at such a young age.

“Look, this was your first year, right?” you started cautiously. He slowly nodded his head and you took it as a sign to continue. “I bet next year you’ll even win the competition if you don’t give up now!”

“What?” he finally looked at you suspiciously.

“Practice every day and snatch the first place from me,” you said in the most serious way possible.

“How do you even know if you’ll win today?” he asked, laughing in your face. There it was.

“Well, I know I can win today, so you have to do it next year,” you grinned with a smile from ear to ear. “Pinky promise and all!” you extended your arm, fluttering your pinky finger.

Wooyoung looked at you puzzled. But why not, he thought. There was no guarantee you’d win today. So, he put his pinky into yours and you two sealed the promise with your thumbs.

“You can’t go back down now,” you said while getting up. “You have to win next year. Of course, you’ll have to beat me for that..but we made the promise, so work hard.”

Wooyoung was still as puzzled until you left. Does this mean he can’t give up now?

He got up and went to search for his parents in the audience. His parents waited for him with a sad smile, telling him he still did great and not to think about any mistake. He thought how you didn’t smile sadly at him. 

Then you came on stage. With your pink ruffle dress and glitter makeup. The audience clapped, wishing you good luck. It all went to silence and the music started flowing through the whole stage. And you started dancing. Wooyoung could only compare your dance to angels flying on the stage. You graciously moved on the song, smiling and lip-syncing to the song. 

You noticed him in the audience and you thought you should show him how confident you are. How confident he should be next time as well. You decided to improvise by getting closer to the edge of the stage, where he was sitting. You winked at him, sticking out your tongue and turned around to continue your choreography. The audience cheered.

Wooyoung was damn stunned. Did you just wink at him? Did anyone notice? He looked around but everyone seemed to think it was part of the dance. Maybe it actually was part of the dance. Your facial expressions were matching the mood of the song, which was very cheery. 

You finished your choreography with a courtesy and the whole public erupted in applause and cheers, while you went backstage.

You were right. You did win.

You fulfilled your side of the promise and now it was Wooyoung’s turn. He didn’t give up. He continued going to the dance classes. He thought about your performance every day. How confident and pretty you looked on stage, like the stage was your home. Like you were born to be on stage. He thought about how everyone in the audience was looking in awe at you, admiring the way you moved and clapping and cheering and smiling. And he thought that’s exactly how he wants them to look at him.

So he went to class after class after class for the whole year. He thought about his promise every day, motivating him to go forward. Quickly enough, it was time for the Junior Local Dance Competition. He was confident in his performance this year. His dance teacher complimented him so many times in the past months, even telling his parents how quickly he made such a progress. He was confident. Confident that he could beat you? Not so much. But he still had a promise to fulfill. Just you wait!

But he ended up being the one to wait. On the podium. With the first place medal in his hand. Alone. Because you were not there. He won but you were not there to see it. You didn’t come to that year's competition. Neither the next year’s. When he won again. Or the next, when once again he won.  

He thought he’ll never see you again. He thought about your performance that day. About how happy everyone was watching you. About how happy he was watching you.

Until you were dancing on the stage in front of him again. At the Regional Competition he attended when he was 14. You were dancing on a rendition of a popular pop song. Smiling and lip-syncing, while the audience was clapping and cheering for you. As he once remembered. Of course he’d recognize you and your smile, because you didn’t change at all. In reality, you changed a lot. You were taller, with shorter hair than he remembered, and not wearing the pink ruffled dress. 

You won. He came in second. He didn’t lose the competitions in a long time. But he was not upset because it was you. You won. You were there.

He wondered if you remembered him. You didn’t. You congratulated him for his performance telling him it was amazing after the awards were given and everyone went backstage. You didn’t bring up your promise and neither did him. Because immediately after you went to a group of girls, laughing and jumping in happiness. He looked at you and your group longingly. It’s been four years, of course you wouldn’t remember him and the stupid promise you both made when you were 10. 

He looked at you taking pictures with the girls. He recognised one of the girls. She was also attending the local competition every year and she briefly attended his classes as well, where she asked for his Instagram. She thought Wooyoung was a great dancer. She also thought he was very cute. That night he wondered if he could find your social media, maybe she would be following you. The girl had hundreds in her following list on Instagram and he didn’t know your name and neither did he see your picture in any tiny icon. 

He was almost going to give up when that girl posted an update. A picture from the regionals. And you were in the picture. Smiling so wide that your eyes closed and holding up the first place medal. The universe listened to his prayers. You were tagged in the picture. Jackpot!

He looked at your profile picture. Of course he was never going to find you, your picture was a cute bunny cartoon munching on a raspberry. Then he saw your name. He thought it was such a pretty name, suiting you perfectly. Your profile was not private so he spent the rest of the night looking at your pictures. That’s how he found out why you haven’t been attending the local competition in the last few years - you moved to a neighbouring city. Still in the same region, hence why you were at the regionals. You still attended the competitions in your city. And won every time. You were on a winning strike for sure! He wondered if you’re still as confident. Your posts were pictures from everywhere and everything you were doing. Dance practices, competitions, hanging out with friends, pretty sunsets and bunnies. 

He really wanted to follow you but he was scared. What if you would recognize him now? And think that it was rude he didn’t recognize you!

After a few minutes and not that many thoughts, he made a new account, hiding his name and followed you. 

He was so happy. Not only did he see you today. But he found your name. He was thinking that maybe, just maybe if he wins next year you’d recognise him and remember him. 

You didn’t. The next year at the regionals, you won again. And you didn’t recognise him. Again. He looked from afar. Again. 

After that year you also started to post pictures and videos from singing lessons. He guessed you were training now to be a singer as well. Your voice changed so much, from the tiny voice you had when you talked to him when you were 10 to your voice now at 16. You had a beautiful singing voice too. You were going to make a great artist.

The next year you didn’t show up at the regionals. That proved his theory you were probably a trainee now and didn’t have time to go to competitions anymore. 

He ended up winning. Once again you were not there to witness it.

But someone else was. They made him a proposition he couldn’t say no to. And that’s how he became a trainee as well.

Your last Instagram post was a picture of you with your eyes closed from smiling, captioned: “see you at my debut stage:)”.

You were going to debut.

At 18 you debuted in a trio with two other boys your age. Rhythm was your group's name. Very fitting, one could say. You all had great rhythm, were well synchronised, with powerful vocals, and energetic choreographies. You took the country by storm. The general public adored your group's music. The general public adored you. You and the boys. Your group was everywhere, interviews, radios, talk shows, music shows. And you were winning every time. As you once said.

You opened a new and official Instagram account and stopped posting on the old one. Wooyoung still followed your old one from his secret account. He started posting nature pictures with a tad bit of poetry in the captions. It was nothing too big, too deep, or too poetic. Just some of his thoughts that once in a while he felt the need to get out of his chest. He updated the profile picture to be his hand in a pinky promise stand. He thought it to be extremely fitting.

Wooyoung followed your every step, watching all the performances and interviews. He was so proud. He knew you’d be a star. You gave him courage and confidence once and you kept instilling it in him, in his trainee days and once he debuted as well. 

He debuted a few years later in an 8 members boy group - Ateez. They were gaining popularity fast, even though their music was in its own niche, with a unique concept. He was dying to be on the same stage as you. Maybe just maybe you’d recognise him. 

You never did.

“Y/N fucking mentioned us!” Hongjoong screamed entering the dance practice studio.

“Shut up!” San raised his eyebrows, his eyes almost bulging out of his sockets. He couldn’t believe it.

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped and he wasn’t able to close it yet.

Hongjoong held his phone up as proof. “Look!”

They all gathered around him, looking down at his phone. There you were, your smile too big for the small screen. It was a video from last night’s radio interview that Wooyoung didn’t have time to check yet. He couldn’t believe he didn’t see it first. He started smiling as soon as Hongjoong pressed play.

“So, Y/N, you always give amazing song recommendations. Any new music we should start listening to?” The radio host asked you.

You chuckled and Wooyoung was ecstatic waiting for your answer.

“I wouldn’t say new music, but these days I caught myself listening to Ateez a lot!”

The boys screamed. “OH MY GOD THAT’S US! IT’S US”

Wooyoung just kept smiling. That means you listened to him too. Maybe you even watched their music videos. Maybe even their performances. Maybe even..

“Ateez you say?” the host nudged you to continue, a little bit impressed as you usually wouldn’t recommend groups.

“Their songs really put me in a good mood, you know. And motivating. Also the lore behind their concept? It’s soooo good! I even caught myself watching fan theories and explanations so I can understand it, that’s how caught up I am,” you said laughing.

A general sound of gasping erupted in the room. Wooyoung was shocked. You definitely watched the music videos. He was more than curious to know what you were thinking of them.

“You know they are all very handsome, do you have a favourite between them?” such a sly question.

The room was silent, everyone expecting your answer. Wooyoung saw a tiny bit of blushing in your cheeks that went away in less than a millisecond. You were a pro at these interviews.

You licked your lips and answered, “You know I try to not show favouritism,” you giggled hiding your face, “but Hongjoong writes and produces a lot of their songs. I’d love to have a collaboration or something on a future song. I think it would turn out to be amazing!”

“Fuck.” Wooyoung muttered under his breath.

“No way!” Hongjoong exclaimed. “Did I hear right?”

“Bro,” Mingi patted his shoulder. “There’s no way. No way. She said your name. She wants to collaborate with you? For a song?”

“It’s nothing official though. It might never happen.” 

Hongjoong said, trying to stay calm, looking at Wooyoung, seeing how his shoulders deflated. Something he does when he’s on the verge of sulking. Hongjoong knew how much Wooyoung admired you. He never explicitly expressed it but it was obvious. He’d always listen to your group’s songs and your solo songs especially. He’d always smile fondly when you’d appear on TV, and he was always extra nervous when you would share the same stage. Wooyoung didn’t have to say anything, Hongjoong would notice. The same way he noticed now that your answer did bother him, more than either of them would expect.

What bothered Wooyoung even more was how a few weeks later you contacted their manager to go forward with a song collaboration. Your answer wasn’t just for the show. You really did want to collaborate with Hongjoong on a song.

Wooyoung was furious. But not with Hongjoong. he deserved the attention and this would be such an opportunity for him. He was furious with himself. Maybe if he went to you when you were 14 to say “hey, remember me?” he wouldn’t regret it so much. Like what even is he expecting now? For you to what? Name drop him in your interviews? He needed to get a grip.

“I don’t know, I feel like that part comes in too early, you know? Maybe we can add five beats before it to prolong the pre chorus just a bit?” you said scrunching your eyebrows.  

It was already your eighth time sitting in the studio with Hongjoong. You were surprised how well you two clicked. You didn’t lie in the interview when you said you were impressed by their songs. But you did always find it hard to work with new people. You were comfortable with your people, and the point of this new album was for you to get out of your comfort zone. That’s why you wanted to try something new. New sounds, new choreos, new videos. If all the collaborations were to go as smooth as with Hongjoong, the new album will be a piece of cake.

It was easy to talk with him and express your ideas. He was eager to listen and implement all your suggestions but was not afraid to implement bold decisions of his own either. You loved that.

“No, nevermind. It sounds weird as fuck. I don’t like it.” you sighed. “I’m sorry I know we changed this specific ten seconds a billion times today.”

“No sweat! That’s why we’re here. That’s why I’m here.”

There he is. Sweet Hongjoong. No matter how bitchy you are about the song he would help you fix it. 

“I’m sorry, I think I’m a bit in a slump today and that’s why I don’t like anything.”

“What’s bothering you today?” he asked while still looking at the screen.

You groaned loudly. “They are pressuring me to find a partner for the dance segment I want to perform for the end of the year awards.”

“Anyone on your mind?”

“Not one person,” you closed your eyes, leaning your head on the couch. “Anyone on yours?”

“Actually yes,” he said, turning in his chair.

At this you perked you head towards him. “Really? Who?”

“One of my team members. He’s fucking good.” Hongjoong smiled. 

“Hongjoong, you are the best thing that happened to me!” you beamed.

Hongjoong was so excited. He could finally make it up to Wooyoung. He avoided talking about his studio sessions with him around, although the others would pressure him A LOT. Asking him everything. He always kept everything brief. But many times it sounded like he had something to hide. Which he didn’t. He didn’t want to make Wooyoung upset, that was it. Hongjoong, like the others, would look at you as you were - their senior. With a lot of respect and admiration. But Wooyoung always looked at you with more, with pride and happiness. You definitely meant more for him than what he wanted to show. 

“Hey man,” Hongjoong entered Wooyoung’s room, finding him in bed on his phone, “great news!”

“What’s up?” Wooyoung asked, concentrating on his phone, playing a game.

“I might have booked you a dance segment at the end of the year award ceremony.”

“Cool.” Wooyoung said unimpressed, still focusing on his game. He trusted his leader’s decisions. If he told him he had to dance at the awards, he was going to dance.

“A dance segment with Y/N,” Hongjoong smiled. 

“What?” Wooyoung finally paused his game and looked at Hongjoong. “Absolutely not.” he shrugged as if it was the most expected answer.

“The fuck? Why not?” Hongjoong was flabbergasted. Why would he say no to such an opportunity?

“Our dancing styles don’t match,” he blinked. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly,” he said, returning to his game. His heart beating faster and faster. What the fuck is he doing?

“Well too late. It was already discussed and agreed between the higher ups. Everyone loved the idea.”

Wooyoung paused his game again. He was opening his mouth to protest but Hongjoong cut him off. “Y/N is waiting for you at 8 in the morning at her dance studio. I’ll share the location with you. Don’t be late!” and he left. Leaving behind a confused Wooyoung.

What just happened? 

He was going to see you. Talk with you. Dance with you. No. This was not supposed to happen. He convinced himself he had to see you from afar and that’s it. His heart was going crazy. How was he going to survive this?

He was late. Oh, so late. He couldn’t fall asleep last night. He was too nervous, too excited. He was thinking about you the whole night. He even looked at your old profile, something he didn’t do in a long time. And so he fell asleep. But it was too late because as he fell asleep, he had to wake up and so he slept through his alarm.

“I am so sorry!” he shouted the moment he barged through your dance studio.

You were on the floor, doing some warm up exercises. He was 47 minutes late! How disrespectful. You slowly got up while he hurriedly left his bag in a corner and ran to the middle of the room. He was gasping for air, definitely ran to get here. 

You stared up at him. He was a head taller than you but you were not going to feel smaller. You looked him up and down and went back to look in his eyes.

“What? Your coffee date with your girlfriend ended up later than you expected?” it was wrong for you to make assumptions and you knew it. But you were oh so angry! You hated hated people who were not keeping their promise.

Wooyoung choked on his words. He should’ve apologised. Said it won’t happen again. Instead he said: “I don’t have a girlfriend,” while keeping his eyes on yours.

“That’s your private life,” you blinked, “and I don’t care about it. I only care for you to be here on time. Dance. And leave. Hongjoong is a great guy, don’t disappoint him.”

Wooyoung raised his eyebrow. Indeed, Hongjoong is a great guy, but why would you say that? 

“Let’s not waste any more time and start,” you turned to reach for your tablet. 

Your dance was a beautiful choreography on a melodic hip-hop classic rendition. The choreographer did a fantastic job. You worked with him on previous projects and you really really wanted this number to be touched by his creative vision. 

The only downside… he was living in New Zealand. That never stopped you before. He used to send you videos of the choreographies and you’d send him videos of you dancing it and ask for feedback. It worked fantastic before and it will work fantastic now.

Or so you thought. The choreography was not too difficult. It was intricate with many details that you really loved focusing on. You used to learn the steps very fast, maybe in a couple of hours, but this time it turned out to be more intricate than you expected. 

The two of you spent more than half of your allocated time just analyzing it. Pressing the replay button over and over and over again. Changing the speed and trying to absorb everything to the smallest detail.

Both of you were extremely focused and everything seemed to go on the right path. You were confident this will turn out well even with the slightest hiccup in the morning.

You were wrong. 

The moment the two of you started to physically learn and count your steps, everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. 

Wooyoung’s body was not listening to him. He was too much in his head, nerves, guilt, stress, fear, of failure and disappointment, everything was just overwhelming him. He felt as if his body was separate from his mind. The two doing their own thing. And he was in the middle, trying to bring them together and failing miserably.

You, on the other hand, were frustrated. With yourself and with him. With his delay this morning that gave such a wrong impression on him. He is sloppy, careless and unreliable. That’s what you told yourself the whole morning while trying to watch the choreography video. It didn’t help that when you started actually dancing he was making such…stupid mistakes. Then you went completely spiraling. Why did Hongjoong recommend Wooyoung? It was obvious he had no idea what he was doing. Was he setting you to fail? Was that his plan? 

You literally had to slap yourself to stop thinking. Which startled Wooyoung from his self-destructive thoughts as well.

You grabbed your phone, quickly typed a message and resumed your practice in no time.

Around an hour later, your phone was blinking. A sign that you got a new message that was not silenced by your do not disturb status. That could only mean one person.

“Let’s take a break,” you said looking at your phone, “20..no 15 minutes should be more than enough.”

It was the first proper sentence, besides some counting, any of you spoke in hours. 

“Ok,” was all that he could say as you left the dance studio in seconds.

He didn’t know what to do. He would’ve liked to get some fresh air but he was not familiar with the building and had no idea how to get on the roof. He didn’t want to get lost or anything. He decided the best idea was to ask you next time.

He ended up just rewatching the dance video, mentally noting some moves. Then slowly practicing and watching himself in the mirror. He was doing great. Way better. As he usually was doing when learning a new dance. Why wasn’t he like this the whole morning?

15 minutes sharp later, you opened the door, stretching your back with your arms above your head. 

“Did you spend your whole break here dancing? Why didn’t you rest?” you stopped yourself, inhaling, then adding coldly. “You know what, it’s your time. You are responsible for it.” 

“I am really sorry I was late this morning.”

And so you continued your rest of the practice.

After Wooyoung returned to his dorm, took a shower, and laid in his bed, contemplating how miserable he felt right now, he thought there was no way you were not going to complain to Hongjoong about today. And he was going to return home and scold him so so much. And not in a good way.

He knew the best way to get over it was to dance. So, in his tiny room, he got up and continued practicing the steps. Tomorrow will be better.

It was not.

He was so tired from not sleeping the previous night and from a double dance practice yesterday. Of course he overslept.

He was late.

Only 10 minutes.

But he was late.

You were lowkey furious. Was he testing your patience? That must be it. Otherwise why would he be late on your second day of practice. After you already made such a big deal about it yesterday.

When Wooyoung opened the door, gasping for air and ready to apologise, you immediately cut him off.

“Don’t even. Let’s just start.”

Sloppy, careless and unreliable.

And so you continued your practice in the next few days. Wooyoung was dying inside. He disappointed you but you were so mean.

“Don’t you know how to raise your hand?”

“This is a six count not eight. Can you even count? ”

“Did you learn to dance yesterday?”

“People will start falling asleep.”

“Why are you like this?”

And so much worse.

Wooyoung would clench his jaw in anger and just swallow his words.

You were indeed mean. You knew that. You did have extremely mean dance teachers growing up. Which was very toxic and haunted you your whole life. Apparently it still did.

You did start making these comments out of pettiness because you were annoyed with him. But then you noticed he wasn’t replying back. In the beginning he would only apologise. Then you noticed how his jaw would clench, how his nostrils would flare, how he’d roll his eyes, how he would deeply sigh. He was getting annoyed. But, nevertheless, he was not making any mean comments back. You did want to get a reaction from him. See what he had to say.

Sloppy, careless and unreliable.

And spineless too?

Your phone blinked notifying you of a new message. And so you announced the 15 minutes daily break.

You left the practice room and went to the familiar dimly lit storage room.

The moment you closed the door behind you, you felt yourself being lifted up and placed on the drawer nearby.

Your lips immediately parted, sinking in the kiss. You loved Hajun’s kisses. They were always exactly what you needed when you were stressed and annoyed. Which was a lot these days.

He trailed kisses on your jaw and down on your neck, nibbling at the cusp between your neck and shoulder.

“How is your pretty boy today?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t wanna talk about him,” you rolled your eyes, unbuttoning his pants.

“But that’s your favourite topic these days,” he said, playing with the waistband of your sweatpants. “Almost like foreplay.” He yanked your pants down to your ankle in a swift movement, placing deep kisses on your lips.

He quickly put a condom on, aligned in front of your entrance, and pushed himself inside with no warning.

You gasped and bit your lips to keep quiet.

“He’s just..driving me..crazy,” you breathed. 

“So sloppy.” 

Thrust. 

“So careless.”

Thrust.

“So unreliable.”

Thrust.

“So spineless.”

“Spineless?” he groaned, increasing his pace. “That’s new. What did he do?”

You rolled your eyes in unison with your hips. “It’s what he didn't do. No matter what I say, he only gets annoyed but doesn’t talk back.”

He put his hand under your shirt, caressing your bare torso, moving up towards your chest.

“Sounds like you want someone to put you in your place.” he cupped your breast, pinching your nipple in between two fingers. “Am I not good enough for that, love?” 

You met Hajun a few months before your debut. He was training with you briefly, until he realised he is not cut for the entertainment industry. He was not sad or anything, rather happy. Studied to enter a good med school and never regretted his decision. The two of you became close friends. Venting each other’s frustration. Until one day, you both figured out the best way to vent. A kiss here, a kiss there, and then you were fucking on his couch. No strings attached and ready to break this deal whenever one of you was over it. 

You were stressed through the roof because of your upcoming album. He was stressed through the roof because of the exam season. All this stress combined and you were bound to see each other often. And fuck often.

“Oh, please,” you moaned in his mouth, “you never knew how to put me in my place.”

After a week of practice, you and Wooyoung filmed your dance and sent it to the choreographer for feedback. He immediately video called the two of you to deliver his response.

Which was a disaster.

He said your chemistry was lacking big time. No synergy whatsoever. And that you basically looked like amateurs. 

“Look guys,” he continued on the screen, “I'm not trying to discourage you. I’ve seen this happening a lot. With people that never danced together. Or never met before dancing.”

Wooyoung stole a glance towards you. Your face was expressionless, carefully listening to the choreographer's points. 

“In order to make my dancers have a more natural chemistry, I ask them to do a different dance. Don’t worry, it’s really short. I reckon in two weeks you’ll master it and can get back to your original dance. Just go with it and stop fighting it.”

Once the call ended you immediately got a message with the video of the new choreography you were told to do.

The video started with a sultry melody. As for the choreography? It was very sexually suggestive. Your original dance had a lot of touching and caressing, so it made sense why you needed perfect chemistry for it to not look weird. But this new one? It was something you never did before. A lot of floor steps that were very intimate. And oh so suggestive. How were you gonna pull this off?

Wooyoung was panicking. He didn’t touch you like this before. And he wasn’t sure he was gonna be able to without his hand trembling.

“Ok, let’s start I guess.”

You avoided looking in his eyes for the first time. You felt a blush creeping on your cheeks and fought against it. You were a professional. This is nothing.

That night Wooyoung looked through your Instagram page. He didn’t get it. You used to be such a nice and sweet girl. And you still were as sweet. Just not with him. 

He wanted to check the comments of your last before debut picture (very stalkerish) when he finally did it. Instead of pressing the comment button, he pressed the heart.

“No, no, no”

He got up in panic and did the best thing he thought of doing. Revoked the heart. It’s only been a few seconds. The notifications for sure didn’t come through. Right? And even if it did, what are the chances you are still active on that account? Right?

You were. 

You loved scrolling on your old account. You barely interacted with anyone on it and that’s why the notification startled you. 

It was from a photography and poetry account. You never even noticed when this account followed you. 

The latest post was a picture of the sky through a cracked window from two days ago with the caption ‘your words are grazing my heart like broken glass does to my skin.’

You liked it in a heartbeat, then followed the account.

Wooyoung’s phone vibrated in his hand. He got the notification of you following his secret page from your old account.

“Shit.”

The new choreography had some tough moves. In which both of you needed to rely on your own strength but also on each others’. 

One of these steps was requiring you to be on your knees on the floor. Wooyoung to slide on his back through your legs. Grabbing your thighs and lifting you and himself, while carrying you on his shoulders, and then dropping you to his arms. 

It was definitely an uncomfortable move that you had to practice a lot. It was risky too. And it wasn’t even the worst. 

And so you did. With every touch and caress from Wooyoung burning above your skin.

The same way every snarky comment from your side burned in his mind.

Of course you couldn’t help yourself. You would get even more critical and sarcastic the more you would feel threatened. And heated. 

After you went on your break, Wooyoung decided he desperately needed air to cool down. Jesus it was only the first day you were trying the new dance and it was killing him. How could he help himself when his skin tasted yours like that. 

He listened to your directions about going on the terrace you once gave him. Your building was huge and he couldn’t believe the whole floor was for you and your group. He turned left and left again. He heard a loud thump right before turning right on the tiny hallway. A faint sound continued to be heard. He approached the door, wanting to make sure nothing wrong happened.

His hand stopped on the door handle when he heard an almost imperceptible moan. The moaning continued in unison with the faint thumping. Mystery solved. And his cue to get back to his objective.

Much needed air. He didn’t need to know people were having sex when he was barely trying to stop a boner himself.

Cold air was blowing over him on the small balcony terrace that was as secluded as you mentioned.

Wooyoung stayed there for what felt like just a minute or so, when another man also joined him on the balcony. 

They only glanced at each other to acknowledge each other’s presence. Men. The other man took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. Puffing slowly.

“I know it’s a myth but cigarettes after sex are still the best.”

Wow too much information, much?

At least Wooyoung knew that this guy was one of the people in the storage room. Not that he wanted to know that.

“So you’re the pretty boy, huh?”

“No?”

What was wrong with this guy?

“Look, there are only two people that ever come on this balcony and I sure as hell didn’t tell you about it.”

The realisation hit Wooyoung like a brick.

“Isn’t your break over?”

That motherfucker.

Wooyoung left Hajun before he could wipe his smug smirk with a punch.

Not that he could be mad that you were having sex. You were a consenting adult woman. But while on the clock? While training and practicing? How was that professional?

When he returned to the dance room you immediately rolled your eyes. The break was already over for a couple of minutes.

“Seriously what is your deal? You want to test my patience or what? Can’t you be on time once? This is so unbelievably unprofessional! We agreed to 15 minutes!”

“Seems that 15 minutes wasn’t enough for either of us,” he said barely a whisper trying to stay calm.

What did he just say? You were flabbergasted. Is he starting to finally talk back? What a horrible moment for that. And what even was that comment?

You decided to ignore it and just continue your practice from where it was left of.

Both of you were unprofessional. And both of you were blaming each other for it. You were blaming him for being such a pain in the ass and making you so frustrated, you couldn’t help but reach for Hajun. He was blaming you for being so mean and making him so nervous that he couldn’t function properly.

With every dance move, every touch he was exploding like fireworks. His shirt and sweatpants felt like paper. He was feeling every trail of your fingers on him as if you were following a gasoline path and igniting flames that were burning and consuming his being.

He was fine. He was fine. He was fine.

Just a tiny little boner.

Fuck.

He couldn’t ask for a break now. You were already pissed and he was sure you’d kill him (metaphorically or not) for daring to request to stop the practice so soon.

You were on fire too. Although making many mistakes, Wooyoung’s touch was so caressing every time. So soft. That you barely felt his contact through your shirt and sweatpants. As if feathers would gently kiss your skin, too afraid you may break.

You needed more.

He was laying down on his back. You were on top of him, trying to dance a new move that looked awfully much like dry humping him.

You are fine. Why are you so horny again? 

You are a professional. Which is why you continue rolling your hips. 

Dry humping is nothing. It’s driving you crazy. 

Not even when you feel him getting harder under you. You don’t want to stop. 

You are fine! You need to stop.

“Are you ok?” you ask.

“Huh?”

“You seem to have a small problem.” it was feeling anything but small. “Down there,” you deadpanned.

Wooyoung was mortified. How, why, and when. He was making sure he was subtly arranging himself in between moves when you were not looking.

You lowered yourself on your elbows, getting closer to his face, and staring into his eyes. 

Wooyoung immediately blushed, frozen in place. You could almost chuckle at his reaction. But you had to keep the appearances.

“Don’t worry, it’s a normal bodily reaction,” you whispered close enough for your noses to almost touch, “not many can resist.” you smirked.

You fucking smirked.

Wooyoung was so turned on he was certain he would’ve cummed in his pants if you wouldn’t have gotten off him and suggested to continue with a different move.

He was so embarrassed though. Not only he still had to deal with his boner. You were aware of it. And he was painfully aware you were. 

You were on your knees. For the move when he slides in between your legs. Until now, the easiest move and the least promiscuous. 

However, when he slid in between your legs this time, his head got stuck in your baggy sweatpants.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. Jesus fucking christ. You are mocking him again.

“So sorry. I think for this move i should take off the big pants. Don’t worry, I wear short leggings underneath.” you said winking.

Fucking winking. How much were you going to embarrass him today?

Your short gray leggings, more specifically booty short leggings, were thin and more or less you were wearing them as underwear. But Wooyoung didn’t need to know. It was your turn to mentally blush.

You were back on your knees and Wooyoung slid with no issues on the floor this time. Booty short leggings for the win!

“Wait, I want to check what I need to do with my left hand. I don’t want you fucking drop me.”

You bent over reaching for your tablet.

He could swear you were doing this on purpose. I mean how could you not, your crotch was not even 10 centimeters from his face. He was doing god’s work trying no to look. But he couldn’t help but notice the damp spot in between your legs. Which looked so goddamn delicious.

“Are you ok?” Wooyoung asked to which you didn’t pay much attention. “You seem to have a small problem.”

“What?” you asked, straightening yourself and looking down at him between your legs.

“Don’t worry, it’s a normal bodily reaction,” he whispered sultrily, getting closer to your core, “not many can resist.” He fucking smirked, making eye contact and immediately dragging his mouth over your damp spot. Payback time.

You stopped a gasp with your hand over your mouth.

Wooyoung continued licking your spot while maintaining eye contact. The look in his eyes being so different now, from the sloppy, careless, unreliable, spineless person from earlier.

You couldn’t believe you got so wet earlier. That he got you so wet. You admit he made you very aroused with that small dry humping session but that aroused? That you started to leak through your leggings? This will be the last time you don’t wear underwear!

With each lick you were getting wetter and wetter, and your leggings soaked with your arousal and his saliva, until the leggings became paper thin and you were feeling every flick of tongue.

Wooyoung was circling around your clit with lewd slurping sounds. 

The movement was making you crazy enough that you started gyrating over his tongue, making you want to moan. But you muffled the sounds with your hand over your mouth.

He was feeling so good.

Wooyoung grabbed your thighs, pulling them apart, which made you lower yourself on him even more. 

You could barely stand straight.

You were eaten out before, with no clothed barrier whatsoever. But like this, with your thin leggings sticking to your sensitive parts, soaking up your arousal and his saliva, with his tongue pushing harder and harder to make up for it? There was something about it that felt more sensual than any other oral session you received.

Wooyoung was enjoying this as much, if not even more, than you. Savouring every lick, every slurp, every drop. As if drinking sweet mead from the gods themselves. You were tasting as sweet as he ever dreamed. Not that he had dirty dreams about you. Or at least not that often. How could he not though? You were on his mind every day. And then you started to show the sexier version of you with the newer comebacks. And then he heard you moan on another dude’s dick in a storage room. How could he resist without imagining anything? With knowing how sweet you can sound. He wanted to hear you sound like that. Your sounds to be the anthem of his life. If only you could take that goddamn hand from your mouth and moan freely. 

You felt the familiar knot in your lower belly and clenched on nothing. You grabbed Wooyoung’s hair with your free hand to steady yourself. He gasped from the sudden pull of his hair. He didn’t expect it. You didn’t expect him to make such a delicious sound either. You wanted to hear more.

You continued rolling your hips with more confidence now, chasing your high. So close, so close. 

And then you exploded, feeling fireworks going off. You collapsed on your back on top of Wooyoung, gasping for air. What just happened?

Wooyoung swiftly got up and lowered himself on top of you. He was looking so hot with his face glistening from his sweat, saliva, and your arousal dripping on his chin. He licked his lips while watching you with dark eyes.

You couldn’t help but stare at his lips and tongue. Which just made you cum. 

“If you needed help, all you had to do was ask,” he grinned, a big shit-eating grin. The asshole.

You blushed the whole way home. You blushed the whole getting ready for bed routine. You blushed the whole time trying to fall asleep. You blushed the whole time scrolling on your phone trying to fall asleep. You blushed when you got a notification that your favourite poetry account just posted. You blushed looking at the picture - a steamed shower glass with a finger drawn heart. You blushed reading the caption - ‘your taste is the poison that kills me; your sounds are the hymn that bring me back to life.’ The universe was laughing in your face. part 2 | © 2024 gemini-stories All Rights Reserved.

[thalia-writes]

Stolen Shirt NSFW

Stolen Shirt NSFW

Konig x F!reader

18+ only

Word count: 3.3K

Summary: A late night gym session and a gym bag mix up leads to a rather interesting confrontation

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings/tags: Oral fem and male receiving, p!inV, degradation, praise kink, Dom!Konig, (i think that’s all of them)

Notes: This is my first time writing anything to completion, and my first time posting my writing. If you have any constructive criticism I would love to hear it! Thank you, I hope you enjoy it:)

Translations: 

Liebe = love

Liebling = Darling

Meine Schatz = my sweetheart

Schatz = treasure

Scheiße = fuck

Music blasts in your ears as you pound your fists against the punching bag. Sweat drips down your forehead as you lose yourself in the rhythm of your fists and your music. You’d had an exceptionally long day and needed to get out your frustrations before you turned in for the night. As your playlist comes to an end, you lower your arms and unwrap your knuckles while you walk to the showers. After a brisk shower you dry yourself off only to realize that you left your sweatshirt in your bag that was sitting in the main gym. You glance at the clock and decide no one else would be in the gym at this hour so you walk out of the shower in your sweats and wrap an arm around yourself to cover your breasts. You turn the corner and walk right into hard muscle. You look up in shock to find Konig staring down at you. 

���Oh my god!” you shout startled. “I’m so sorry Konig, I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here at this hour.”

“Clearly” He replies, quickly glancing down at your barely covered torso. Your face immediately flushes in embarrassment. 

“Shit, I- um, I need to go,” you stammer. You quickly brush past him and practically run to where your bag is laying on the bench. Hastily grabbing it and throwing on your sweater, you run out the door and back to your room which thankfully wasn’t very far. You shut the door behind you, throwing your bag onto the floor. 

“Of fucking course he had to be there,” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head. Of all people, it had to be him. You’ve had a crush on your colonel since the day you started at Kortac. You sigh before opening your gym bag to dig out your shirt when you realize that this was not, in fact, your bag. It was Konigs. You must’ve grabbed his by mistake when you made a mad dash out of the gym. You were too tired and too embarrassed to admit your mistake to him tonight, so you decided you would just return his bag to him tomorrow. 

You start getting ready for bed when you see it, Konigs shirt peeking out from within his gym bag. You shake your head, no that would be wildly inappropriate to wear your Colonel’s shirt! You start walking towards your bed when you find yourself turning and walking towards the bag instead. Although, you think to yourself, no one would know, you could just wash it in the morning and he would be none the wiser. You fight an internal battle before finally giving in and throwing the shirt on. Immediately you were overwhelmed with his scent, subconsciously you took a deep inhale. The shirt engulfed you, the hem of the shirt resting on your mid-thigh, you didn't even bother throwing your pajama bottoms on before crawling into bed and shutting off the light. 

~1 hour later~

You’re awoken by knocking at your door. You frown to yourself before getting out of bed, wondering what could’ve happened that would be so important that you would be needed at this hour. You swing the door open to find Konig standing there. 

“I believe this is yours?” he asks, holding out your gym bag. 

“Oh yes it is, I must've grabbed yours by mistake. Give me a second I’ll grab your bag” you say as you start to turn towards where you set Konigs bag. 

“Wait” Konig states, making you freeze in your half turn, “Is that my shirt?” he asks in a low voice. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, you think to yourself. You turn back to face him but keep your head low to avoid eye contact. 

“I have no good excuse, Sir, I was tired and it was right there so i just put it on, but I shouldn’t have-'' you begin to ramble an apology before you get interrupted by Konig walking into you, forcing you backwards as he walks into your room, the door shutting behind him. He continues until your back hits the wall, he places his hand on the wall by your head to cage you in. You gasp and look up at him as he looks down at you. 

“I need you to tell me exactly why you put my shirt on,” Konig says slowly, his chest heaving. 

Oh man, you really fucked up this time, you think to yourself. 

“I told you, it was the closest thing to me so I-” you say before you’re silenced by Konig's other hand gripping your jaw.

“Do not lie to me Y/N” He growls. 

Despite yourself, you can feel heat pool in your stomach at his touch and how close he is. You say nothing, not having a good excuse, biting your lip in embarrassment . Konig glances at your lips before groaning and pressing his body against yours, pressing you deeper into the wall. You squirm and freeze when you feel something hard poking your lower abdomen. He leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Do you feel that, liebling? Do you feel what the sight of you does to me?” 

Your breath hitches as he pulls his head away to look you in the eye. 

“I need you to tell me if this is what you want, because I will not be able to withhold myself from you for much longer” Konig says, grabbing your chin again to make you look at him. You look at him with wide eyes, before nodding slightly. Konig’s grip on your chin tightens before shaking his head. 

“I need words, liebe” He says, his intense gaze turning your insides to jelly.

“Yes, Konig, I want this, please” you whisper.

“Good girl,” Konig groans, before pressing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. You melt into him, your lips moving together with fervor. You tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to bring him closer to you. Konig lets out a growl before picking you up off the ground and keeping you against the wall, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. His hands run along your body, feeling every dip and curve. You feel like you’re on fire, every touch sending heat to your core. You moan into the kiss, which he takes advantage of and slides his tongue into your mouth, exploring and tasting every part of you. One hand gripping your waist and the other on your ass, his body keeping you from falling.

He removes his lips from yours and starts peppering kisses down your jaw until he gets to your neck, softly kissing and nipping. You let out a soft moan as soon as his lips touch your neck, tilting your head so he can have better access. The hand that was on your waist traveling up and starting to play with your breast, kneading the flesh through the shirt. 

“Konig… please,” you gasp, grinding down onto him trying to relieve the tension in your core. You can feel yourself already soaking through your panties. 

“Look at you, liebling, so needy already and I’ve hardly touched you” he coos lips still against your neck. “What do you want love? Hmm? Tell me what you need” he says with fake sympathy. 

“You,” you breathe. “Please Konig, I need you, I need to feel you,” you beg. Konig curses quietly before pulling you off the wall and carrying you to your bed. He lays you down before standing and taking his shirt off. You can’t help but stare at his beautiful, toned torso. Your eyes trailing down following the line of hair that disappears underneath the top of his pants. You sit up on your knees and reach forward trailing your hands over his abs, Konig sucks in a breath at your touch. Your hands reach the top of his pants, your hands teasing as you play with the hem. You look up at him from beneath your lashes for permission to continue. 

“You wanna suck my cock, Liebe?” He coos as he looks down at you nodding your head. 

“Such a needy little slut aren’t you? Want me to shove my big cock down your throat? Go ahead then, schatz, take off my pants.” 

As soon as you have his permission you swiftly undo his belt and his zipper and shove his pants and boxers down, releasing his cock as it stands at attention. You almost drool at the sight of it, your eyes widening and looking back up at him. 

“Don’t worry love, we’ll make it fit,” he says, a smirk gracing his lips as he takes in your expression. 

You lean forward and take the tip into your mouth, slowly swirling your tongue around it. Konig gasps as soon as he feels your mouth. You take him deeper, you hand wrapping around what wasn’t in your mouth. You bob your head, simultaneously sucking and stroking his cock. All the while making eye contact with him. 

“Fuck,” he groans, “you look so pretty like this, with my cock in your mouth.” 

You moan around him, making him twitch in your mouth. Relaxing your throat you take him deeper, gagging as his dick slides down your throat. Konigs hand grabs a fistful of your hair and starts moving his hips, fucking your throat. 

“Such a good little whore, taking my cock deep in your throat. You like it don’t you? You like me fucking your throat nice and deep?” Konig pants. You moan around his length, causing his grip on your hair to tighten. You reach up and play with his balls as he thrusts into your mouth. He yanks your mouth off of him suddenly, chest heaving as he looks down at you. 

“As much as I would love to cum inside that sinful little mouth of yours, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock,” Konig says lowly. “But before I do that, I need to get you nice and ready for my big cock, ja?” 

He slides your (his) shirt off and pushes you onto your back, leaving you in nothing but your soaked panties. 

“Scheiße, I can practically smell you from here, love. You look so pretty like that, in nothing but your panties, your beautiful body on display for me,” Konig says as he takes in the sight of you. “Let me taste these gorgeous tits of yours,” he groans as he crawls on top of you and wraps his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and licking while his hand grabs and kneads the other breast, tweaking your nipple between his fingers. You moan and arch your back, pushing yourself closer to him. He swaps his mouth and hands to give the other the same treatment. You’re already a moaning mess beneath him as he starts kissing his way down your torso. 

“Fuck.. Konig.. Please, I.. I need more,” you moan out, moving your hips to try and get some friction on your core. He grabs your hips to keep you still, kissing and teasing his way lower and lower. 

“So desperate for me already? Such a little whore for me aren’t you?” Konig says condescendingly. You moan and squirm in his grasp.

“Yes Konig, please, I need you so bad,” you cry. He chuckles darkly at your response, 

“And what do you need from me, liebling? Hmm? Tell me what you want,” he says, his fingers tracing circles on your hips, his lips still pressing kisses to your lower abdomen. 

“You! I need you, please. Your mouth, your fingers, your cock, anything! Please Konig, I need to feel you so badly,” you beg. Your skin was on fire, you felt like you were going to die if he didn’t touch you. 

“Such a good girl, begging for me,” he breathes. He finally slips his fingers under the hem of your underwear and slides them off your legs. 

“Fucking hell, schatz, you’re so wet me for me,” he muses, his finger slipping between your folds as he teases your core. You moan loudly as he slowly gathers your arousal on his finger before pushing it inside of you. He slowly moves it, letting you become accustomed to the intrusion before adding another finger, slowly pumping them in and out of you. 

“Feels so good,” you manage to say, your back arching as you push yourself onto his fingers. 

“Need to taste you, mein schatz,” Konig mutters before dipping his head down and lapping at your clit, moaning at your taste. 

“You taste so sweet, I could stay between your thighs for the rest of the night,” he groans. He starts to lap and suck on your clit while his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot within you. Your moans become uncontrollable as your climax starts building. You cover your mouth with your hand to try and stifle them, when Konig wrenches your hand away from your lips.

“Let me hear your beautiful sounds, love. Let me hear how good I make you feel,” he says before returning his attention to your core. You cry out in ecstasy as he slowly adds a third finger, stretching you out. 

“I’m.. so fucking.. So close,” you ramble, the pleasure coursing through your veins causing you to not be able to form a coherent sentence. His fingers move faster bringing your release closer, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“That’s it, baby, cum for me, cum on my fingers like the needy little slut you are. Let me taste you” Konig says, before sucking on your clit. His words send you over the edge, your back arches and you cry out his name like a prayer as your climax washes over you. He works you through your orgasm, not removing himself from you until you're pushing him away from overstimulation. His mouth and chin covered in your slick, he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. 

You slowly come back down from your high as he crawls back over you and brings his mouth to yours, kissing you slowly and passionately. His hips nestled between your thighs you can feel his hard erection against your core. 

“You did so good for me, baby, such a good fucking girl for me” Konig says against your lips, starting to slowly thrust his hips so his erection slides between your folds. That action alone had you wanting more, arousal burning inside you. 

“Konig, please… fuck.. I need you inside me please,” you beg. Your hands grabbing at his shoulders and running down his back feeling all of the toned muscles beneath. 

“Alright, liebling, you ready?” Konig asks as he coats his dick in your arousal before lining himself at your entrance, nestling the tip against it. 

“Yes, I’m ready, please give me your cock,” you whine, moving your hips to try and push him inside you. He lets out a low moan at your words before slowly pushing the tip inside you. Fuck he was so big, you were being stretched like never before. You gasp as he slowly pushes in, inch by inch. 

“Are you alright, schatz? Do you need me to stop?” Konig asks, his eyes filled with concern as he looks down at you. 

“Yes, yes I'm good! Please don’t stop,” you cry out, desperate to feel him fill you. 

“Alright, love, we’re almost there, just a little more,” he grunts out, pulling out slightly before easing back in. Konig lets out a loud groan as he bottoms out inside you. He stretches you in the best possible way, making you feel so full.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby. Can feel you squeezing my cock,” he groans. His hands grip your waist as he lets you adjust to his size. You start moving your hips against him and he starts moving, slowly pulling out and pushing back in. You moan out his name as you feel his cock reach deep into you, the pleasure coursing through your veins making your brain hazy. 

You reach up and grab his head bringing his lips to yours as you kiss him hard. He immediately responds, your lips dancing together as his thrusts start to pick up speed. The both of you moaning into each other's mouths. Your hands grasp at his back, nails digging into his skin trying to hold on as he fucks you. 

“Harder, please,” you gasp out and he complies, thrusting into you hard, his cock prodding against your cervix making you cry out. 

“Feels so fucking good, baby, your pussy wrapped around my cock, sucking me right back in. Such a greedy little thing,” he mutters, drunk on the feeling of your pussy and your nails digging into his back. Suddenly he pulls out and flips you so you're on all fours, ass up and pussy on display. He gently pushes your back so you arch it perfectly for him, he groans and pushes back in. He starts to fuck you fast and hard, his hands holding your waist with a bruising grip. You sob out in pleasure as he hits that sweet spot over and over again. Konig leans forward and presses his chest against your back to whisper in your ear. 

“I can feel you squeezing my cock. You gonna come again already, baby? How pathetic, such a needy, cockdrunk little slut aren’t you?” He leans back and thrusts into you harder, one hand coming down to rub circles on your clit and the other wrapping around your throat squeezing gently. 

“Yes! Yes! Fuck yes just like Konig!” you sob out. “Gonna cum, please let me cum, fuck Konig please!” 

“You wanna cum on my cock?” he asks, his grip on your throat tightening slightly, you nod furiously. 

“Do it then, be a good little girl and cum all over my fat cock. Be a good slut for me,” he growls as he starts thrusting harder, his fingers playing with your clit. You scream out his name as your climax tears through you, your pussy walls clamping down and fluttering around his length. Konig fucks you through your climax before stilling inside and finishing with a loud groan. He pulls out and grabs his shirt, using it to clean you up. Laying down next to you he turns your face so you can look at him. 

“How are you feeling, schatz? Are you alright?” he asks. You look up at him with a smile,

“I am more than alright Konig, that was…. Wow,” you say softly. He chuckles at your response, pulling you closer to him. 

“I agree, you should have stolen my shirt sooner,” he says with a teasing smile. You playfully shove his shoulder, rolling your eyes. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose I swear!” you protest, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him. 

“I don’t care if you did it on purpose or not,” Koning chuckles, placing a hand on your cheek, “I have wanted you since I first laid my eyes on you, meine schatz. I was able to restrain myself, but seeing you in my shirt snapped something inside me.” You lean into his touch as he speaks, 

“I might have to wear your clothes more often,” you tease, smiling down at him. He pulls you into him, your head buried into his chest.  “Scheiße, schatz, you’re going to be the death of me,” Konig groans, squeezing his arms around you. You giggle and snuggle deeper into him, wrapping your arms around him and tangling your legs with his. The both of you curled up in your bed as you drift off into a blissful sleep, listening to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat.

[undertheorangetree]

Under the God's Eye

Chapter Two- The Drive

Summary- The holiday begins and the drive is less than pleasant.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Female Reader. Classism. Old married couple bickering. There’s only one bed.

Author’s Note- I have no idea how to stick to a post schedule so here’s the next part. Full chapter is on AO3 and feel free to tell me what you think :)

Series masterlist

divider created by firefly-graphics

She feels as though she should be embarrassed when Aemond pulls up outside her building in his Maserati. It's clearly out of place here and if the look on his face is anything to go by, so is he. It isn't that her apartment is bad, but it is only three blocks north of the poorest part of the city, unaffectionately known as Flea Bottom. But the rent had been cheap and it was far enough away that she didn't feel as though she was too close to any real danger. Regardless, it's clear he disapproves from the moment he pulls up to the curb but he keeps his mouth shut as he pops the trunk and helps her maneuver her bag in, even going so far as to open the door for her.

But to hope for peace is too much to ask for, as the moment he sits down back down in the driver's seat, he's talking. "You live here?"

"We can't all afford to live in the Red Keep district," she snaps, already feeling inferior just sitting in his car.

In truth, she doesn't know where he lives, but if the way his cheeks go pink is any indication, her guess isn't too far off.

This already feels like a mistake. It has since the night she agreed to it and he had started texting her. He had given her as much information as he felt that she needed, half heartedly explaining family dynamics and who was likely to be there. He had told her what to pack and, when she had explained that she didn't have any formal clothes, insisted on buying her two dresses that he deemed acceptable. She had declined immediately, adamantly, no less than six times but Aemond had refused to take her no as a final answer. There's going to be a gala with almost every high standing lawyer in Westeros at the end of the month, he had finally snapped. If you want to be taken seriously after you get your internship, you're going to have to look the part. It had almost sounded like a threat when he said it and finals had exhausted her so thoroughly that she had no fight left to give. She had simply given him her measurements and let him do what he will. She wasn't even sure what he bought and he had never bothered to show her. He had simply texted her a bought them and left it at that.

Curious now, she turns her head and looks in the back seat, half expecting there to be two dress bags laying across them. Instead she finds a pet carrier and is just able to make out the grizzled outline of a tortoiseshell cat fast asleep inside.

“Who’s this?” she asks as the car pulls away from the curb.

Aemond glances in the rearview mirror and something similar to a smile makes its way onto his face. “Vhagar. You’re not allergic to cats, are you? There’s going to be a few animals at the cottage.”

“No, but is the drive not a bit much for her? It’s nearly six hours.”

Though she can’t see Vhagar in her entirety, it is clear that she’s not young, with white freckled across her back and the telltale greasy fur of an older cat.

“She’s done it a dozen times before, you don’t need to worry about her.” He looks fondly at the carrier and for a second, the affection he has for his cat brings a smile to her face. The smile dies the moment he speaks again. “What you should worry about is remembering everything I’ve told you. You do remember, don’t you?”

Read the rest here

Taglist- @backyardfolklore @docmartinis @watercolorskyy @barbieaemond @bellaisasleep @yentroucnagol @aemondsbabygirl

[wastelandkatze]

ENTRY 4: The rest of the companions heard (friends') Tavs/Durges going at it one night [NSFW]

ft. my Tav, Briar, their love interest, Astarion (pre-relationship, post Act 1) and my friends Tavs/Durges: Kiyo (@dumpups)'s Durge Raegan x Karlach, and Khim's Ngojo x Gale!

CW: mature content TW: mentions of loud semi-public seggs, like they're really going at it damn...

click here for the AO3 link of this entry

“Ugh,” Briar tumbles and twists on their bedroll, even pulling their blanket over their head in hopes of drowning the wild ruckus from the adjacent tent. It didn't work of course, now with the moans followed by wet slapping of skin. The warlock pulls their hair, wondering when they’ll get a good night’s sleep, and makes a mental note to tease Raegan about their orchestra tomorrow. Maybe give them a crunchy smack on the back of their head, too. It’s great to finally have the paladin back from their homecoming, and Karlach undeniably missed the hell out of their lover who's been gone for several weeks, having forced to spend her nights alone again. But gods, couldn’t they conjure a room or something? Does it have to be now? Does it have to be here?

Briar, now with their blanket worn as a cloak, begrudgingly grabs the Bhaalspawn memoir they’ve been studying (almost throwing it towards Karlach and Raegan’s shared tent), and steps out of their shelter to look for a quieter place to snooze in.

As soon as they thought they’re safe from witnessing any more private moments, Briar was almost blinded by the purple light show emanating from Gale’s tent. Counting it as their mistake to pry more, their jaws now agape from the contorted shadows of the wizard and his sorceress, Ngojo. Thankfully, both mages took camp to consideration (unlike Karlach screaming Raegan’s name), making use of a Silence spell, but the shadow theater-ish spectacle they projected sure looks crazy. Ngojo did mention one time how Gale had this book that showed different ways of lovemaking. And it’s just in Briar’s luck that Gale and his lover decided that now, too, is the perfect time to experiment.

With no more interest to see how much more arms can sprout from the wizard’s body, Briar bolts straight to the tent that’s farthest from camp: Astarion’s tent– the only tent with an inviting light and, fortuitously, absence of any malicious activities. They peeked through the open flap of its entrance, curious to discover that the tent is vacant. The vampire must have been in the woods, hunting for sustenance. So, Briar helps themself, rounds a little corner inside while being careful of Astarion’s belongings, and reads to sleep. The chapter was as boring as they expected it to be, catching themself fluttering their eyes and banging their head in a whiplash, waking them up as they hit someone’s head.

“Ow!” the voice grunted. Briar glances on Astarion huddled close to them. There’s even a trail of drool from their mouth to the vampire’s shirt sleeve. “Sorry,” the warlock responds half-awake, wiping their saliva with their hand, “How long have I been using you as my pillow?”

“Not long.”

Briar hums, matching his unbothered demeanor, “I hope you don’t mind me staying here for the night.”

“Darling, you know I can do last-minute arrangements for you,” he smirks. Briar swats his shoulder, earning another “ouch” from him.

“Stop being a creep. You know we agreed to keep it casual when it’s just the two of us,” then they stretch until a joint popped to place, “We’re buddies, aren’t we?”

“Whatever you daywalkers call it, sure,” Astarion rolls his eyes, then pats his shoulder. Briar raised a brow. “You said we’re buddies, so come here and keep me warm before my undead body freezes in place.”

“No preys sucked dry tonight?”

“The woods are apparently a sham,” he sighs, “unless you’re offering in kindness.”

“Not tonight, sorry. I need some rest,” Briar mumbles, settling their head on his rigid shoulder while sharing their blanket with him. Astarion sits stiff, still uncomfortable with the contact’s lack of sexual intention, something he was used to.

“Gods,” Briar sighed, snapping him away from those thoughts, “If only you know how everyone’s really going at it tonight.”

“Oh, I saw. They are quite the show.”

“Please spare me the details,” Briar opens their book to where they left it off, now sharing it with Astarion as he accompanied their reading time—amused with how repulsed the warlock is. As traces of feral noises ultimately died down, so did the warlock, who didn’t last five minutes in reading and dozed off peacefully on the vampire’s shoulder. He avoided ruminating on thoughts that would sour his mood, simply focused on the warmth that his companion radiated before he entered trance. When he awoke to the sunlight’s gentle caress on his cheek—something he’ll never tire of, the same weight remained: of the blanket around him, and of the warlock’s head that now lay on his lap.

His finger twitches as he catches himself fixing the strand of hair on their face. This isn’t good; he’s acting soft again.

divider by @saradika-graphics

[archersxartxblog]

Master Post

Look who's back with a new chapter of Warden's Twins!

I nearly Wrote about Zisu throwing Beni down the side of a mountain in the last part.

Chapter 28

Emmet rolled to safety, wiping the blood from the cut on his cheek, and sparing a glance towards the pokemon battle only a few feet. “Scyther! Air Slash on Gallade! Galvantula! Sucker Punch on Gardevoir!” He called out before dodging to the side, Beni's sword just barely missing him.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Galvantula's attack was less effective than he hoped, and he quietly cursed his mistake. Gardevoir had a fairy typing, dark attacks wouldn't be as effective.

It was hardly fair, attacking another trainer during a battle. It went against every rule in the league, and more importantly it was dangerous. Yet, Emmet got the feeling the old man didn't care about any of that, as Beni once more tried to take off Emmet’s head with his blade, only missing by a hair.

It was making battling properly rather difficult, as he had to keep his focus almost entirely on trying to avoid the old man. So far he had managed to keep the battle somewhat in view, but it was difficult to form a proper strategy. so he was mostly running on luck and the fact he had a slight type advantage over one of his opponent's pokemon. 

“Gallade! Drain Punch! Gardevoir! Dazzling Gleam!” the Old man ordered not once taking his eyes off Emmet. He either trusted his pokemon completely, or he truly didn't care what happened to them.

Once more, Emmet scrambled away from the chief turned Ninja, all the while dodging pokemon attacks as air sliced clean through stone and fairy magic whizzed past his head.

Months of running away from Paras were finally paying off. 

There was a cry of pain, and Emmet watched as Beni's Gallade finally went down, falling to one knee, clearly unable to battle any longer. 

This got the old man's attention, allowing Emmet to put even more distance between them, as Beni was forced to withdraw the pokemon from the field. 

“not many mange to get this far, maybe Zisu wasn't exaggerating your skill.” Beni spoke, his eyes focused solely on the pokeball in his hands. “But this is as far as you'll go. Mismagius! Power Gem! Remove those insects from my sight.”

In a flash of light a new pokemon joined the fray, unleashing a ray of sparkling light from the gemstones on its ghostly body, and just like Gallade, Scyther fell.

“Scyther, Return.” Emmet quickly recalled his pokemon. “Eelektrik, use Acid on Gardevoir, Galvantula, Electro Ball on Mismagius!'' This wasn't good, Galvantula and Eelektrik were his last two pokemon, if even one of them went down then he would be looking at a two vs one situation. There was no telling how many pokemon the old man still had left, and worse yet, after a full day of nothing but battling Alpha's his pokemon were probably as worn out as he was.

If he could just focus, then he might just be able to pull through.

But sadly, Beni was not willing to give him the chance, as once more the man closed the distance between them. Renewing the chase.

“Mismagius, Power Gem once more. Gardevoir Psychic.”  The old man ordered, charging towards the and leaping into the air, sword raised high. 

Emmet quickly turned to feel, taking one last glance at the battle while he still could. “Eelektrik! Galvantula! Use Thunder wave! Slow them down-Ah!” 

His foot suddenly caught on a stone, sending the boy tumbling to the cave floor. Emmet barely managed to roll away in time to avoid the blade that had been aimed at his head, only losing a few hairs in the process.

But his cry of shock had been disastrous for his Pokemon, as both of them had turned to check on him, leaving them both open for attack.

“No! Eelektrik!Galvantula!” Emmet cried, as he tried to push himself back to his feet, wanting to run to his fallen pokemon to make sure they were okay, but a weight on his back kept him in place.

“it is impressive how good you skyfallers are at wielding the power of pokemon.” Beni spoke, burying his blade in the stone next to Emmet’s throat. “Had things turned out differently, we might have been able to call the four of you allies. But…” The old man sighed, sounding tired. “I have my orders” 

Emmet’s heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel tears start to form in the corner of his eyes. 

He failed…again.

Beni was going to finish him off and go after his brother and Akari…

And the world would rip itself apart, and he and Ingo would never see their dad, or their uncle or Unova ever again…

All because Emmet wasn't able to win a battle when it mattered most.

“Please…” a sob escaped the boy's lips, as his face pressed against the ground.

Emmet heard the old man sigh once more, and the weight that kept him pinned to ground shifted slightly though not enough for him to wiggle free. 

“You must think us Monsters.” The man spoke, his voice soft and tired. “If it means anything, I don't hate you. Any of you. In fact I admire your skill in battle. Had you not been dodging me this battle might have ended differently.” another weary sigh escaped the old man. “Pokemon are truly terrifying creatures.”

Slowly, Emmet turned his head, glancing back at the old Ninja. 

Why was he telling him this?

“Kamado and I saw our hometown burned to the ground by maddened Pokemon running amok-we lost plenty of friends and comrades that day.” the old man shook his head and leaned heavily on his blade. “That’s why Kamado came here to Hisui to try to build a new home where people could live free from fear. But to achieve something truly great, you sometimes have to take extreme actions.”

Extreme, or foolhardy? 

Emmet only wished his Uncle was here, he was sure Drayden would have some choice words for Beni and his Commander.

“I am Emmet, and I think blaming Akari and my Family for all this, is verrrry extreme.” Emmet snapped back. probably not the best choice when his man had him pinned to the ground, and his pokemon at his mercy, but someone needed to point this out. And maybe if he convinced Beni this was all unnecessary, then maybe they would have one more ally on their side. “If we had the power to do all your commander says we can, do you really think I would have lost to you, even with you chasing me?”

The old man hummed, seeming to take Emmet’s words into consideration. “I will admit, I considered the same thing.” a thoughtful look crossed his face, and for the briefest of moments Emmet wondered if he had actually managed to get through to the man. “But at the same time, I must also keep in mind that this could all be nothing more than a trick. Besides, what I think doesn't matter, I have my orders.” 

Emmet wanted to scream out his frustration.

This wasn’t fair!

He and his brother weren't even supposed to be in Hisui!

His dad wasn't supposed to be in Hisui!

And Akari probably wasn't supposed to be here either. 

And he doubted any of them even wanted to be here. He sure as heck didn't.

But now because they were here, in this place they weren't supposed to be, during some weird event, they were suddenly to blame for it, because of reasons, apparently. And worse they couldn't even fix the problem they were being blamed for because no one would listen.

“Gardevoir, Mismagius, finish off those Pokémon.”

“NO!” Emmet screamed in panic as he realized what the old man was ordering his Pokémon to do. He tried to reach for their pokeballs, hoping he could return them before it was too late but Beni just put more pressure on his back. “Galvantula! Eelektrik! Please, get up!” He pleaded, but it was no use.

“Don't worry, little one, you'll be right behind them. I'll even make sure you are not apart from your family for long.” The old man yanked the blade free from the stone, and Emmet held him breath as he felt the cold steel inches from. The back of his neck.

“Please” He tried once more, too scared to try to move. 

The air in the cave seemed to drop as Emmet watched as Beni's Pokémon approached his fallen partners, ready to follow their trainers orders. The Stones on the Mismagius's dress-like body began to glow, as she powered up an attack…Only to stop, and let the attack fuzzle out, as she looked around the room nervously.

The Gardevoir stepped up, cooing slightly in confusion, drawing Beni's attention to the two pokemon. “What is wrong Mismagius? Finish them before they recover.”

But the pokemon ignored him, fluttering through the air nervously, as if looking for some hidden danger.

It was then that Emmet started to pick up just how cold it was in the cave. He could see his breath in the air, a fine mist was starting to form from the rapid change in temperature. and while the layers of Emmet’s Pearl clan garb kept him warm, he could feel the old man above him start to shiver.

“A storm must have blown in from the Icelands.” the old man snorted, as he pulled the blade a bit further from Emmet's neck so he could try and warm his hands with his breath. “Let’s make this quick then, I want to be back in the village and over a hot stove by nightfall-”

Mismagius let out a blood curtailing scream then fell to the ground unmoving. 

“What just happened? Mismagius!”

Gardevoir moved in to check on her comrade, only to suffer the same tragic fate, with deep shadowy claw marks appearing on her snowy white body.

“Gardevoir!” Panic seeped into the man's tone as he watched his Pokémon fall with no sign of an Attacker. “You!” The pressure on Emmet’s back doubled making it hard for him to breath, as the old man suddenly put all his weight onto the boy. “You Did This! Didn't You?”

The boy tried to deny the accusations, just as clueless as the Ninja. But no sound could escape him, as the pain in his chest continued to increase.

“I don't know how you did that but I can not let this-”

The old man's word's cut off, and Emmet found himself finally free.

Gasping for breath, he wasted no time as he quickly ran to his fallen Pokémon. Pulling out their pokeballs and pulling them back to safety. Once his pokemon were safe, the ten year old looked back towards the old Ninja, and his jaw fell open.

There, standing right where Emmet had been pinned, was his missing Zoroark. Beni held high off the ground in one massive paw, and in the other, was the Ninja's sword, shattered to pieces. 

“Zoroark!” tears ran freely down Emmet’s cheeks as he stared at his Pokémon. The Pokémon he'd thought had run away on him, had tracked him down, had come back, and saved him. “Zoroark, don't worry about me like that again, you jerk!”

If Emmet didn't know any better, or he might have thought Zoroark had smiled at him.

“Let go of me you Infernal beast!” Beni cursed as he was left dangling from Zoroark's claws, his legs uselessly kicking at the air. 

As much as Emmet hated to admit it, he felt just a little satisfaction at having the tables so suddenly turned in his favor. Now he just needed to figure out what to do with the Ninja now that he had him. 

Sure he could have Zoroark continue to hold him in the air, and just wait here until help arrived. He was verrrry tired, and his Pokémon needed rest.

 It would not be hard to just sit here and defend this point with Zoroark until help came.

Or…

He could find something to tie the man up with and then he and Zoroark could go join up with Ingo and Akari. 

Sure, he only had one Pokémon he was able to battle. but Zoroark was strong and he and Ingo were always better when they battled together. 

That was a better plan, yep.

“hold him there, Zoroark, while I find something to tie him up with.” Emmet called out, pushing himself to his feet and running over to check the barbells against the walls. There had to be rope somewhere in here.

“You talk like you have beaten me, child.” the old man spoke again, still dangling from the ghastly fox's paw. “You plan to just tie me up and leave me here for dead?”

“I am Emmet, and you are beaten.” The boy answered plainly as he focused on his search. “You're Pokémon are unable to battle further, yep, sounds pretty beaten to me.” It wasn't the way Emmet had wanted to win, but after being chased around by a crazy man with a sword, he was willing to take any win he could get. “And you won't die. Captain Cyllene said she would be sending back up. Yep, she can deal with you.”

The old man just…laughed. “Ninjas are not beat so easily.”

“Ninjas are also supposed to be sneaky, and you are not verrrry sneaky.” Shot back, not willing to rise to the old man's bait.

“Sneee~” 

A smile spread across his lips as he heard the Pokémon cry behind him. He knew that cry anywhere. It meant that his dad was nearby, and help was on its way. And he turned to greet her.

“Lady Sneasler-”

His words caught in his throat as a burning pain began to spread through his chest, feeling like he'd just been hit by a Thunderwave.

Emmet stared wide eyed up at the Pokémon in front of him. It was a Sneasler, but it was not the noble he had come to know and love these past few months. Their long sharp claws digging into the skin of his chest, having easily slashed through the fabric layers of his tunic. The only thing keeping the poison tipped claws from digging any deeper into his skin, was Zoroark, who had released the old man to rush to his aid.

“I had originally caught this Pokémon, to deal with your father…encase he ever turned on the village.” Beni spoke up, stepping forward, and rubbing at his neck. “After all, what better way to kill a Warden than to make it look like their precious noble did it. I suppose the same tactic could be used on you.”

Emmet staggered back away from the claw, his chest feeling like it was on fire, and he started to feel slightly sick. The Sneasler seemed to laugh at his actions before turning their attention towards the ghost type.

Zoroark let out a low growl, pushing the Sneasler back a few steps, and Emmet shook his head, trying to regain his focus.

The battle was not over, while it was no longer a double battle, Beni could not chase him about with his sword. If he could just focus on the battle and not on the pain in his chest, then he just might win.

—

On any other day Zisu could easily out run Warden Ingo. The man was more built for short sprints than a marathon up a mountain, and his footwear was hardly appropriate for running in the Hisuian wilderness. But today, she had to push herself just to keep pace with the Warden and his Noble’s mad dash up the mountain.

Not that she could blame him for his haste.

“What were those kids thinking? They should have waited for reinforcements back at the base camp.” She muttered, as they neared the stone portal, the open wound in the sky almost blinding from here. 

“Captain Cyllene ordered Akari and the Twins to-”

“I know what Cyllene said.” Zisu cut Rei off as they ran. The boy had been locked in battle with a member of the Security Corps when she finally caught up with the Warden and his group, luckily the man stood down the second she came into view. She sighed and shook her head. “I just don't think she meant for the three of them to go in there alone.”

In all honesty, she was more worried about the twins than she was Akari. 

Akari was strong and capable with her pokemon, and while the Commander didn't trust her at the moment, he still held enough respect for her and the work she had done for them under his order. Even that little Serviper of a cook Beni had some respect for her capabilities. There was a chance they would at least give her a fair shot.

Of course the twins were capable as well, there was no denying that, and on any other day Zisu wouldn't believe Kamado was capable of hurting a child. But this wasn’t any other day, and Kamado's paranoia had gotten the best of him, and he didn't know the twins, he had spoken more to Akari and their father then them. And after the stunt Emmet’s Zoroark had pulled earlier,while it had probably saved their lives, the Commander was unlikely to show them any mercy until it was too late.

“I told those two not to be so reckless,” she heard Ingo speak up, his voice easily cutting through the wind. “I should have gone with them from the start, I should not have allowed myself to become uncoupled.”

“No, Warden, you entrusted me with their care, I should have stayed with them.” Irida piped up from behind them. “I let you down, My deepest apologies-”

“Yes, yes, The Pearl clan is very irresponsible” Melli cut in with all his usual tact. “But can we discuss this later, when the SKY ISN'T RIPPING ITSELF APART!”

“I hate to agree with Melli, but now isn't the time for this.” Adaman added, and Zisu felt inclined to agree with him. 

As the group neared the stone portal, the sounds of a battle could be heard echoing from deep within the cave, and Zisu heard the familiar cries of a Zoroark and a Sneasler going at it. 

Finally they caught up.

Once more, Ingo tore off and Zisu was right on his heels. 

She had a feeling she knew who their opponent was. And that only made her run faster.

As the tunnel opened up, Zisu pulled out in front of the Pearl Clan Warden as he came to a stop. Sneasler and Gliscor flew out past her, Charging the Pokemon at the battling Pokémon, while she tackled Beni to the ground. 

Once she was sure she had the old man thoroughly pinned, arms held tightly behind his back, Zisu looked up and took in her surroundings.

Beni's Sneasler lay unconscious on the ground a few feet from her, Gliscor and the much Larger Noble of the Cliffs hanging over the Pokémon just encase it got back up. Zisu wasn't sure which one got the final blow but she was more than sure the smaller Sneasler would nor be getting back up.

A little further over, Emmet’s Zoroark sat, his fur all ruffled from the battle, the Sneasler clearly had given him a run for his money, but all and all he looked no worse for wear.

And behind the fox was…

“Emmet!” Ingo called out, rushing towards his son and scooping him up into his arms.

The boy was in rough shape. His hair was a mess, his cheeks caked in dry blood, his tunic was sliced to shreds, and he looked far paler than he should be. It took everything in Zisu not to land a swift punch to the back of Beni's head.

But one thing about the scene stood out. 

Akari and Little Ingo weren't here.

“Emmet, where is your brother and Akari?” The Pearl Clan Warden asked his youngest, in a hushed tone.

The boy blinked slowly, looking exhausted, and slowly pulled away from his dad and pointed towards the tunnel heading towards the peak. “Ingo and Akari went ahead to stop the commander.”

The Warden looked over at her, and Zisu nodded in return. There was no way Emmet could continue up the mountain. “You go ahead, I'll take Emmet and Beni back to the base camp.”

It was probably for the best, she wasn't sure how she would react if she came face to face with the commander after all this.

“But-” the boy tried to protest but his father cut him off.

“No buts, you will hitch your cab to Zisu and go back to the Basecamp. I'll go help your brother.” Ingo explained, gently patting the boy's shoulder before standing back up. 

Emmet swayed a bit as his dad let go, only to be caught by the Diamond Clan Warden. “Fear not, I, The Great Melli, will accompany them back.”

“Thank you.” Ingo nodded, allowing the other Warden to take his son, as he, Irida and Adaman continued forward.

“We can head out, just as soon as I get Beni's hands in a nice pair of Iron cuffs.” Zisu grabbed both of Beni's wrists in one hand, before reaching back in her pouch for a pair of handcuffs. 

“There’s no need.” Beni grunted from under Zisu “only a foolish Ninja continues after a target they know they cannot beat.” 

Zisu just rolled her eyes and put the cuffs on him anyway before yanking him to his feet. “Come on. Let's get back to camp.” 

“Yes, and let us be quick about it. The boy has been poisoned, Lucky for him the Great Melli is more than prepared." The Diamond clan Warden grinned, pushing the boy towards the captained as he marched towards the exit.

Zisu nodded, kneeling down and scooping Emmet up so that his upper body rested comfortably on her shoulder, before following Melli out; dragging the old man behind her. Emmet’s Zoroark following close behind, as Rei remained behind to gather up the wounded pokemon.

“If-hypothetical as it may be- a pokemon were to appear from within that space-time rift…I fear Kamado might loose hold of his reason.” Beni muttered as he walked forward, looking back towards the peak, yet made no move to try and break away.

“I think we're way past that point, Beni.” Zisu shook her head, adjusting the boy in her arms ever so slightly. “Judging by the fact that he banished Akari for no reason, and then tried to lock up Ingo and my boys. I say it happened when the Sky turned red.”

“Your Boys?” Beni questioned, picking up on the slip. “Last I checked you are not their mother, unless there is something you would like to share.”

It was so tempting to give Beni a little shove and to tell him mind his own business. Maybe let him tumble down the mountain. But she forced herself to behave…Cyllene will know what to do with him.

“And last I checked Beni, you weren't a real chef, yet I still see you running the Wallflower.” Zisu snapped back, not willing to give the man an inch.

For a moment she thought she heard Beni laugh. “I just hope Akari and your other boy are able to save Kamado from himself.” 

“Hm…” She hummed in response. She hoped so as well, though her faith in the Commander was completely shaken, she didn't want to see him be ripped apart by whatever was coming out of that rift, just because he refused to listen. “Agreed. Now keep quiet, unless you want to take an ‘Express Route’ down the mountain.”

“Ugh, Could you not Speak like that! Bad enough, the Great Melli hears that from Ingo and his brats, I don't need it from you as well.”

[i4bellingham]

I really like your fics. I was wondering if you could do an imagine where Marcus dedicates a goal to Y/N

GOAL (OF THE HEART): marcus rashford x reader

NOTE: real life situations will not align with this fic but for the sake of this fic, please ignore them :)) also, this is one of my most favorite written pieces so far i swear to god night time brings ✨ something ✨ in me when i write (but unfortunately not every night lmao)

It was such a silly promise he had made to you while growing up.

“If I score a goal for you in our game in Monday, we will have to get married when we grow up.” An ten-year old Marcus Rashford proposes, giving you his still unopened ring pop as a form of sealing the deal. You slide the candy ring to your ring finger just like where your Ma has her's. “You better score more than one then.”

“Sure.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

Marcus did. He scored a hefty of goals during his time, growing tremendously on the passion he's got for football as he bagged goals after goals in his games.

There were timesㅡ a patch where he was out of form, made everything about the sport he loves grow a tad bit challenging. It also didn't help that a single mistake he had made came a wave of online hate directed towards him.

Those were the tough times, but still, you stood by his side as his best friend, his confidant, his girlfriend, the love of his life.

And as Marcus scored the final goal, one that was trivial to winning the title for The Carabao’s Cup, the silly promise he had made to you as a kid now turned into something more than just what it was, a silly little promise of a young boy who shared his dreams and passion for football to his friend, a girl next door who used to call him ‘Marc’ growing up because she couldn't be bothered to pronounce his two-syllable name, the girl who watched him practice his dribbling skills behind their muddy backyard even during the rain.

Every single Reds fans erupted into a holler of cheers, uniting as one as they waved the huge red Manchester United banner, popping every red confetti as they cheered for the victory of their team.

Every player, Ten Hag and a few of the team staff were huddled near the box, almost squashing your boyfriend underneath as they celebrated his goal. You can see a few tear-streaked faces from where you're sat, most probably from the win and finally ending the 5-year drought of not winning a single title in different cups as you yourself wipe tears off from your own eyes.

The guys, after a little while of congratulating and dapping each other stood and formed a line in front of their very enthusiastic and supportive fans, some waved, some bowed and some gave away flying kisses before walking off to find their own families.

Due to some schedule conflicts, Marcus’ family wasn't able to watch this game live, leaving you to watch him play and support him on the stead of his family. One single look through your Instagram, they were of course already the first one's to congratulate your boyfriend, posting lengthy messages with photos of their tele as they watch the game from their homes.

On your peripheral vision, you see the man of the game jogging towards your seat, and you immediately jump up, shoving your phone into your back pocket before meeting Marcus from behind the barricade as he reaches both arms out to wrap around your waist.

“Oh my god! I am so proud of you!” You gush against his neck, cupping his face before kissing him on both cheeks.

Marcus takes the liberty of connecting your lips together before you could get any far. You wrap both hands behind his neck, ignoring his sweaty state as he pulls away just to pick you up from behind the barricade that separates you both and placing you on the ground in front of him. Then he kisses you hard again, fervent but not bruising.

“Do you remember my promise when we were ten?” He asks, glancing towards where Sancho was approaching.

You scrunch your nose, patting his chest. “You have made a handful of promises Mr. Rashford, you may have to remind me on this one.”

You cheekily smile at him, teasing because he knew that you knew. But as always, the challenge was welcomed.

Sancho arrives, wrapping an arm over your boyfriend’s shoulder and with a few pats on the back and a ‘good luck mate,’ he leaves the two of you alone but not before shooting you a knowing smile.

“I scored a goal for you...” Marcus takes his hand that was behind him, showing you a small red velvet box, then he kneels and opening the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring over a golden band and you're cupping a palm over your mouth. “In a Monday game... so will you please do give me the honor of being your husband?”

Freely, the tears start to fall on your cheeks, the sound of the fans who were seeing the moment live cheered as you had Marcus kneeling on the ground before you.

“I didn’t score more than one goal today but, I was hoping I’d score your yes with this one because as cheesy as this may sound, that's one of my goals since I was ten...” Marcus laughs when you sob against your palm, failing to wipe away your tears but you move to wipe his when the first one fell on his cheek.

You didn't say yes, not immediately but you did nod your head before a shaky yes, yes Marcus I’ll marry you leaves your lips, tackling your boyfriend to the ground as he loops an arm around your waist whilst you're nuzzling your face against his chest, sobbing.

“You’re so cheesy but I love you.” You hiccup, raising your head just to see the herd of football players rushing to your way most likely to congratulate you.

Marcus flicks a stray hair out of your face, cupping your right cheek before he's slipping the ring in your ring finger, just like where your Ma has her's, and he's leaning down to kiss your lips, never mind the salty taste of tears on his tongue.

“You promise?” Marcus smiles as he parts, using the pad of his thumb to wipe your cheeks.

You nod, connecting your foreheads together as you answer. “I promise.”

[korpuskristae]

Jasmine and Rose - A Sensory Shock That Jolts My Spirits

Warnings: Child abuse, alcohol abuse, usage of the F slur.

Pairing: Severus Snape x Female reader, reader uses She/Her pronouns

Word Count: 1000+

Summary: A peak into the enigmatic Potions Professors past, aka, I didn't expect this fanfic to get this far so I'm stalling and this is filler, present day Sev will be back next, NEXT, chapter.

Tag List: @likoplays (If you want to be tagged in the next chapter let me know!)

Song Choice: Nettie and Anesthesia are such Sev-coded songs, Life Is Killing Me is just very Sev overall if I'm being honest. (Context for non Type O fans: Nettie is about the frontman's mother) I'd like to think he was a mama's boy, as you can see I tried to lean into that a little. For those curious, the Latin roughly translates to: "I invoke he power of the Cross. My Mother alone could move the One Great God."

Part 1 Part 2

AN: I return! With a VERY late chapter, sorry xoxoxo, this chapter isn't a happy one either. Expect major spelling errors and mistakes, I seriously got so tired of looking at this so I just said fuck it and posted it, it feels very empty and like too much info IMO but it sets up the next chapter so just trust me.10/8/24* this is getting rewritten.

̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿ ☆ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿ ☆ ‿̩͙‿

Read on AO3

Unbeknownst to many, simply because he was such a private person, Severus had always been very close with his mother. Eileen Snape is… was… the only kind Snape in the whole family tree, considering she married into the family, it made sense. Eileen originally married his father, Tobias Snape, out of love, she was the type of person who found the good in everybody, even, unfortunately, his father at one point, though she horrendously misjudged his… nature.

Severus always thought it foolish of her, to even think of that man, his… father, as remotely good, even on a good day, seemed impossible for Severus. Tobias Snape did not have a single loving bone in his body, if he did, it's safe to say Severus would’ve been an entirely different person.

It wasn’t always so tense between Eileen and Tobias, when his father and mother were wed, the Snape family outwardly portrayed the perfect family, a hardworking husband, and a doting equally as hardworking wife, that was, until Severus was born.

His father was nothing special, he was a tall, lanky, pale, English muggle who worked a plethora of jobs at any given moment. He never stayed anywhere too long mostly because he’d end up coming to work hungover or drunk more often than not leading to a confrontation between him and whoever his current boss was. He was a notoriously stoic man who could go the entire day without giving so much as a glance to either Severus or Eileen until he got his hands on a bottle of beer. Later on in life, his alcohol dependence would prove to be his final nail in the coffin, just a few months short of his mother’s death.

His mother, on the other hand, was born into the highly esteemed House of Prince. Much like the noble House of Black, the Prince House was a highly revered, and highly feared, house of powerful pureblooded witches and wizards. Unlike many patriarchal wizarding families, the Prince family was headed by the less-than-polite, Catherine Prince, Eileen’s mother. Being an only child, Eileen was next in line to head the Prince House but upon hearing her daughter had married and fallen in love with a muggle man, Catherine disowned Eileen for being a “blood traitor” and “tainting” their family line.

Before their wedding, Eileen and Tobias lived in his parent's home, after their very small intimate wedding, the two moved into Spinner’s End in Cokeworth, England, just a few short months later, Severus was conceived and born on January 9th, 1960. Despite its less-than-favorable conditions, drab, rainy, cobblestoned England would serve to be their residence, its looming Victorian architecture only adding to the oppressiveness and overbearing weight of the country as a whole. The ghosts of a not-so-distant past served as a grim backdrop for the tense times they lived in.

For the first year of his life, Severus was rather sickly and pale, two traits that regrettably followed him through his childhood and into adulthood, albeit, to a lesser extreme. He was a rather frail child resulting in him often sitting and playing with his mother rather than venturing into the outside world simply because it caused too much strain on his already strained body. 

Due to brain damage he sustained from one of the many beatings from his father, his development was stunted and many important milestones such as his first laugh, his first steps, and even his first words happened at much later times than they would for a seemingly healthy baby. Eileen wasn’t spared from Tobias’s wrath either, while her son bared the brunt of her husband’s aggression, she too sustained a multitude of bruises and broken bones at his hands.

Despite their harsh reality, Eileen never broke in front of her son, she taught Severus to never accept a life he didn’t deserve, to keep his head up, he was a Prince after all. Her confidence, born of a life of privilege at a young age was something even Tobias had a hard time breaking. 

As he grew older, Severus never grew out of his introverted tendencies. His constant ailments and aversion to words were a point of conflict in the Snape household. Growing up, Severus was regularly berated for being too “weak” and acting like a “pansy” due to his mother’s quote-unquote “incessant coddling”. Coupled with the fact that he had grown out his hair and wore his mother’s clothing since his father’s hung off his lanky body, Severus was more often than not, subjected to harsh manual labor along with numerous beatings for whatever unforgivable crime his father felt he committed that day. In his father’s words, “He wasn’t going to raise a faggot”, how funny that sentence was to look back upon...

As a result of his father’s explosive temper and general aloof behavior, he and his mother grew extremely close. A certified social recluse even at a young age, Eileen was the only person he allowed into his little world. Once her son started displaying signs of having magical abilities, she broke out her old textbooks and started teaching him basic wandless spells in secret while Tobias was away working.

 His father detested magic with every fiber of his being, he didn’t like much of anything but magic for some reason seemed to entirely derail his behavior. So much so, that he snapped Eileen’s wand in a fit of rage not long after they were married.

The day Severus got his Hogwarts letter, Eileen was ecstatic, catching his father in a good mood, she showed him the letter proclaiming their son was a wizard and would be attending the best magical school in the world. Grossly hungover, Tobias didn’t fully register her words as she asked to take Severus to London, waving them off angrily, Eileen practically skipped out of the house with her son in tow.

The two spent the day in Diagon Alley, living what felt like a normal life for the first time. Splurging what little money she had on her son, Eileen bought him brand new robes and a wand, even going so far as to buy him ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour before heading off to the used bookstores. It’s this day that Severus believes was his happiest memory, rather,  it was one of his only happy memories from his childhood, the one memory he faithfully used to conjure his Patronus.

[gvfmarge]

Lighthouse of my Soul - Chapter Three (Sneak Peak)

Hi everyone! Here’s a snippet of what I’ve been working on! It’s not finished or even close honestly. But I just wanted to post to keep you all on your toes- but hopefully in the next few days I’ll have Chapter 3 to you! (Super lightly edited, excuse any laziness or mistakes- I still have a lot I’d like to add to even this) Read Chapter One - Chapter Two

Warnings: just some cussing and fighting, as always.

What the hell are you doing Jake?!" You scream into the void, hoping he's still around to hear you. The echos of your footsteps pound throughout the house as you stomp your way up the stairs. "Did you hear me?" You yell out, the rage boiling in your chest. 

He appears to you at the top of the stairs. Leaned against the wall of the upstairs hallway, feet crossed, holding his pipe to his upward turned lips. "I did hear you and I was just getting him out of my house." His voice booming around you, his smugness churning the rage inside of you. "I didn't want him out of MY house." You squeak out, your fist firmly hitting the wall beside you. "You don't own this house, you don't own ME." Your anger fueling your braveness. "You CANT do that! I'm allowed to have friends!" 

"He isn't a friend to you, Y/N." Pushing off the wall with his shoulder he waltzes to you at the top of the stairs, his eyes boring holes into your own. Jake reaches his hand up to your cheek, flinching you whip your head away squeezing your eyes shut tight, thinking for a quick second that he may strike you. "You cannot act like this, Jake. If we're going to share this house, you have to give me my space. I have to live my own life." You slowly peered at him through your eyelashes, hoping your tender eyes will make some kind of peace with him. 

"Just look, Y/N." He whispers, finally softly placing his hand to your cheek. You feel his calloused thumb rub across your cheek bone. You sigh at the tingles the contact gives you. Goosebumps raise across your shoulders and down your spine. "What are you do-" 

Your quickly cut off when the image of the ocean waves appear in your vision. You can smell the salty air, almost feel the thick air sticking to your skin. The ocean is crashing to your right, the roar of the waves are so loud but so distant at the same time. Seagulls fly overhead and you turn your head upward to watch their wings flap. Squinting at the brightness of the day, you finally glance down to see your hand intertwined with another. His long fingers seem to fit perfectly in yours. It feels almost complete, like this is where your hand belongs. Scanning up the man's arm you notice his strong arms swinging along with yours. His white linen shirt flapping with the wind, your eyes keep scanning upwards. You notice his long chestnut hair blowing around with the wind, it's flying around every which way and you see that it's landing in his face. Your eyes meet his lips first, where a piece of hair has gotten caught. You finally look into his deep brown eyes. The golden specs are glowing in the sunlight. Your breath hitches as you realize you are walking the shore with Jake, hand in hand. Something seems different. This doesn't feel like your body. You glance down to see that your hair is brown, a dark rich brown that you've never had before. You quickly look back at him and he flashes his bright white perfect teeth, the most genuine smile you have ever seen from him. His smile almost fades as he quickly nods to you. You try to speak, try to ask what has happened but the sun suddenly disappears. The beach is completely dark, there's no moon or stars to light the sand ahead of you. You cannot hear the ocean waves crashing or the seagulls flying overhead. It's complete darkness. Trying to squeeze Jake’s hand for reassurance, you find your hand empty. Your body is frozen in time. You cannot speak, cannot scream, you try to fight it but there is nothing to fight. 

Your eyes slowly blink open to see the wooden ceiling of your bedroom once again, the sunlight blinding you. In your confusion, you quickly launch yourself out of bed. Frantically ripping your sheets from your bed, you find your phone to see that it is early Saturday morning. "What the fuck, Jake!" You yell out to him, wherever he may be in the house. “What the fuck was that!” 

Taglist: @lipstickitty @writingcold @peaceloveunitygvf

[nekoannie-chan]

Wrong side?

Wrong side?

Title: Wrong side?

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Brock Rumlow X Reader.

Word count: 297 words.

Square: 5 “Free.”

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Which is your side?

Major Tags: Threaten.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @seasonaldelightsbingo Language of Flowers Bingo. 63.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

The helicopter hovered over the New York skyline, Brock watched through the window, but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking of you. The one who had changed his life in ways he had never imagined.

After months of missions together, the two of you had grown closer. Evenings turned into moments of intimate conversations, shared glances amid operations, and finally, stolen kisses on the sly. They were in love.

One night, while you were watching your favorite show, Steve unexpectedly appeared at the door.

“We need to talk," said Steve. I found out something about Rumlow.

“What are you talking about, Steve? “you asked.

“Brock is part of HYDRA," Steve blurted out bluntly. I found out about him on a recent mission. I'm sorry, but I had to tell you.

It didn't take you by surprise, you had already figured it out, so before Steve could continue, you stepped forward.

“If you breathe a word about this, Steve, I swear I will reveal all your secrets," you said firmly. I will tarnish your image. You don't know what I'm capable of.

Steve was stunned. He hadn't expected such a reaction from you. He had thought you would be on his side, although now he also wondered how you knew his secrets.

“You can't protect him, you know what HYDRA stands for," Steve tried to reason.

“I mean it, Steve," you replied.

“This doesn't change anything," he said. "But I won't say anything... for now. "

Steve turned around and left the apartment, after a few minutes Brock came out of the room, he had heard everything.

“I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't want you to find out like this. "

“It doesn't matter," you replied, "I love you, and that's all that matters to me. "

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

Okok, serious post. Time for another "Things I'll probably never write!"

------------

Imagine if during the bonfire incident, Nie Mingjue goes into a qi-deviation, but instead of killing him, it de-ages him.

Nie Huaisang is too stunned by this to keep being upset about losing all his things and runs to his da-ge before Jin Guangyao can even finish bandaging his burned hands. 

He immediately knows exactly how old Nie Mingjue is, because the now-too-large robes reveal he's missing the scar on his shoulder where one of the shards of their father's saber had nicked him during the shattering.

Nie Mingjue, all of thirteen years old, squints at him.

"Da-ge?" Nie Huaisang asks hesitantly. 

"...Didi? when did you grow u- your hands!"

Nie Huaisang quickly hides them behind his back.

He has a guess why his brother is this specific age. 

It's not a happy one.

Or, rather, it's that his brother hasn't been happy. For a very long time.

He involuntarily glances at the still burning remains of everything he owned that wasn't too heavy to move (or alive).

Ah... this is his fault, isn't it?

All this time...

But... it'll be okay! He can make himself be the grown up! He can give his brother the years he's stolen! 

Right?

"Ah- don't worry about that, Da-ge. It was my own stupid mistake. Come on, we should get you to the healers."

As he stands up, he meets Jin Guangyao's concerned stare.

"Huaisang..."

He puts on a smile. "Don't worry about me, okay? I'm fine. But I've gotta make sure Da-ge will be alright, so I'll talk to you... later?… Yeah." 

It's clear his attempt at reassurance hasn't worked, but he can see a couple of the healers approaching, clearly having been alerted by witnesses, so he has other things to deal with right now.

Smile still in place, he ignores the blistering pain in his palms and fingers and wraps his arms around his brother to help him to his unsteady feet. 

—

Nie Huaisang having an absolutely miserable time trying to Handle Things but it's FINE because Nie Mingjue is finally getting to be spoiled within an inch of his life by the sect and their friends and, really, don't they both deserve what they're getting out of this? Having to take care of a brat like him was part the reason Nie Mingjue's teenage years were so hard, so...

Yeah.

They deserve this. 

On the other hand, Nie Mingjue not actually being all that comfortable with the coddling, since he doesn't remember any of the horrible things people tell him he's lived through.

(He especially doesn't like the things they say about his brother in contrast.)

He's barely been able to catch a few glimpses of Nie Huaisang over the past two weeks, and each time his brother looks more and more exhausted and harried.

He finally decides they Need To Talk, but when he gets to the study, he overhears Jin Guangyao gently chastising Nie Huaisang for not taking care of himself-

("Why haven't you even let anyone see properly to your hands yet? And when is the last time you've slept?"

-and it turns into an argument as Nie Huaisang keeps denying anything is wrong even as his defenses become more and more unhinged- 

("You're worried over nothing! it's not like i can qi deviate, everyone knows my cultivation's too pathetic for that!").

Nie Huaisang has no idea Nie Mingjue is listening in when he breaks down and admits he feels like he owes all this to his brother for years of dragging him down, and it's not like anyone disagrees-

("Even you, San-ge. How many times did you chide me for being difficult and antagonizing him?"

"I didn't mean you should hurt yourself to make amends, Huaisang, and you know that.")

Nie Mingjue is appalled at what he hears. 

But more than that, he's worried. Even if he's not physically older right now, he can't think of Nie Huaisang as anything other than his baby brother, and the idea that he's putting himself through all this heartache and stress out of some kind of surely-misplaced guilt for him makes his stomach tie in knots.

He doesn't bother knocking and just shoves the door open.

[bankholdup]

what? dixon's posting something longer than 200 words? wrote this little thing based off my post about eddie begging steve to watch the evil dead. i think i'm gonna make a little collection on ao3 of my longer drabbles/ficlets. anyway, hope you guys enjoy! sorry about any mistakes i didn't proofread lol

Friday night was Steve and Eddie’s weekly tradition that originally started when they were just friends. They would always order a pizza or get burgers, and head over to either person’s house for the night to watch it. When they started dating, they simply carried the tradition over.

Ever since he found out that Family Video got The Evil Dead in stock, Eddie has been begging Steve to rent and watch it. Eddie loved when he saw it in theaters, and since he knew Steve hadn’t seen it, he wanted to watch it for their movie night.

Steve finally gave in. Walking into Eddie’s house, fast food bag and tape in hand. Eddie absolutely lit up, grinning, leaning in to give Steve a kiss before bouncing over to the VCR to put the tape in.

Steve walked over to the couch, putting their food on the table before going to the fridge to grab two beers. He handed one to Eddie before they both settled in on the couch.

The movie was your typical campy horror. The effects were cool, and there was a lot of blood. Steve glanced over to Eddie to gauge his reaction to everything. Something about the look in Eddie’s eyes made Steve realize…

“Dude!”

“What?” Eddie squeaked out, ripping his eyes away from the carnage on screen.

“Do you have a crush on this guy? Is that why you begged me to watch this movie?”

“Uh…uh…” Eddie started darting his eyes elsewhere and fiddling with his rings.

“Oh my god, you do.” Steve crossed his arms and looked back at the television screen. Obviously, it’s okay to have crushes on actors, even Steve has plenty that he thinks are attractive. Still, he pouted while thinking about why Eddie would like this guy. His name is literally Ashley.

“Stevie, baby, do you know why I have a crush on him?” Eddie asked after he noticed Steve starting to sulk.

“I like him because he reminds me of you. I mean, look, you guys both have brown eyes, great hair, you guys are both total badasses…” Eddie trailed off as moved to try to cuddle into Steve.

After looking at him for a while, Steve guessed he could see what Eddie was talking about. The guy did have great hair, and his character wasn’t unlikeable.

“Fine,” Steve grumbled, “I guess I see it.” He still kept his arms crossed and pouted the rest of the movie. Eddie kept trying to give him kisses all over to help him feel better (it totally worked, but he still kept pouting so he could keep getting love).