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visionsofmagic · 1 year ago

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watching them as they train. ⭒ mk1

—✦requsted by anon.∗ imagine watching liu kang, kenshi, bi han, kuai liang, and tomas working out. you can’t help but ogle them. their muscles straining visibly, they are panting, sweat is rolling off them, THEN feeling them up. how do the guys feel about this?

╰┈➤ tags: spicy, sfw, pet names, sweating, watching, flirting, tattoo, gn!reader, use of y/n, no specific use of gender, boyfriend dynamic, fluff, ‘s all I suppose. ✩ wc: 2.3k ✩ rose’s notes: offf, this one was so spicy to write and I like how I imagined this entirely while reading your request, lol, love ya & thanks for this hot request! hope you all will like, enjoy. [also, changed the aesthetic of requests post, hope this one is prettier. muah!]

✩ liu kang.

being the god of fire, protector of the earthrealm, and having a decent power in his system, he needs to train his muscles, physical strength, and power as well as he does with his mindset. watching him sitting down on the carpet, eyes closed, hands connected while being inside his mind to power it up as if he’s not the most powerful soul in the entire timeline is the thing you do as a habit now, so, it’s not surprising when you find yourself sitting on one of the benches on the training area as he trains alone – no one else, just you and him.

it’s different than watching his peaceful closed eyes, a little smirk on his face from time to time as he knows you’re there to take a sight of his meditation – because he gladly allows you to. it’s different even within the air – it’s too hot to handle and the wind doesn’t help at all because how he has no particular sleeve on his upper part, wearing just pants as he trains with his sharp movements.

muscles getting tighter, sweat running from his neck to his exposed chest, professionalism is as clear as the sun’s rays and you can’t stop thinking about how easily he will use his skillful hands on your body – he’s making you weak by only training and you know that he acknowledges his effects on you, making his training session sharper and more powerful than it is needed as he turns his back, arms move fast, making his back’s muscles go visible to your eyes.

mouth getting wet on its own, your eyes travel from his sweaty hair to his sharp jaw, arms with visible veins, white tattoos covering his arms and a part of his chest beautifully, sweat flowing from there until they reach his abdomen, making you gulp in excitement.

is it wrong to fantasize about a god? you can’t answer, and you don’t care about it either – well, at least, your instincts don’t care because without calculating its outcomes, your legs move on their own as you get up, slowly approaching him. with each step you can hear his deep breaths, and can see his sweats shine under the light of the sun.

he stops at his movements when he feels you near, chest rising up and down still. standing in front of him with warm breaths hitting his hot chest, you can’t help but touch his arms’ tattoos full of sweat – slowly enough to get a warning from his parted lips. “y/n –“

“yes, my lord?”

you can see his eyes narrowing, mind studying the situation and knowing that you will not stop, not after both of your hands happen to be on his chest, rubbing his muscles from time to time and earning another warning from him as he grips your wrists – fingers still playing with his arm muscles, getting wet, “you should stop, I need to train for one more hour, pretty.”

“train with me,” you say, putting a kiss on his exposed chest before turning over, knowing the god of fire, the man of determination, can’t resist your open invitation, and agreeing.

“you will be the death of me, my love,” he says, picking you up in bridal style as he goes to his room – to train with you of course, much hotter this time.

✩ kenshi.

to get back his sword from johnny, and be worthy of his clan once again, kenshi tries his best – so hard to accomplish his aims – he needs to be strong, he knows it, and the knowledge pushes him to train over and over again until he can beat everyone who crosses his way and avoiding him to reach his destination.

and there’s one more reason behind it – having you as his audience. his beloved lover who likes to watch him get a good view of his exposed body, half-naked, showing his muscles off even though he will deny it. he can have his orange training clothes to wear but in that way, he won’t be able to see your parted lips that you bite and lick occasionally, eyes shining as they travel on his body shamelessly, hands move rapidly because of not knowing where to put them because your mind is not working entirely when he winks at you whenever he changes the way he trains – legs, arms, back muscles – doesn’t matter as long as you get heat rushing on your body which he knows so well.

“liked what you see, love?” he will ask, smiling down at you when he takes a break, chest rising up and down as he stands on his foot, hovering over you, teasing because it’s so fun to play with your cute mind.

“u-huh,” you say, looking at his chest and waist covered with sweat rather than his eyes directed at you, “like it so much –“ you add, and to his surprise, you put your hands on his waist, pulling him closer to you as you sit on the bench still, and eyes turning up to find him, “are you doing it for me to like it?” you tease back as your hands move from his waist to his abdomen, feeling his six packs tighten under your fingertips. “cute.”

“not as cute as you, prettiest.”

then, he will make sure you put your hands on his body whenever he takes breaks until he is done with training and takes you into his room, admiring your body the way you do to his. after all, he is such a pleaser that he needs to return the favor.

✩ bi han.

for being the grandmaster of the lin kuei clan, the man who seeks great power, bi han trains a lot – he needs to, he has to.

he never gets exhausted by training with his potent stamina and determination to become the best – the strongest to bring great accomplishments to his clan. also, he never gets tired of having you beside him as he trains after he tells you to watch him closely to see what a true and good training session will look like – well, half truth half lie because it’s not the only reason why he keeps taking you into the area, having you sit down on the carpet, on your knees and watch him – it’s all because of you though, you were the first one who requested to do it and from the way you look at him, his body and mostly muscles with parted pretty lips, he can’t bring himself to train alone when he can your pretty face lighten up with desire of him as he does it.

knowing he does it on purpose, you sit down on the carpet calmly – as much as you can anyway, watching him having only his pants on, ice appearing on his hands until it reaches his elbows, the temperature getting colder but you don’t – it only gets warmer for you when your eyes travel on his torso, chest, shoulders, arms – full of muscles and sweat, getting tighter from time to time with the impact of his hard training. oh, you think, he truly deserves the title of grandmaster.

thighs clenching together, hands getting between your legs, eyes sparkling, and lips getting licked, you know bi han laughs menacingly inside his mind whenever he takes a look at your messy situation – he definitely does it on purpose, doesn’t he?

your question is answered when he cleans his sweat with a towel before sitting in front of you on his knees, hands positioned on his lap, raising an eyebrow he asks, “did you learn anything from my training, y/n?”

nodding, you challenge him by saying, “yeah, I learned how your muscles move so beautifully, sir.”

he chuckles deeply, and letting you do what you wanted to do before, taking you by the wrist, he puts your hand down on his shoulders, “now learn how they feel under your touch, doll. it’s what your hands carve after all.”

instead of saying anything, you use your hand movements as an answer – massaging his rigid muscles on the shoulders, moving from his chest from there until they find his abdomen, full of thick packs, showing his masculinity off so perfectly that you put a kiss on his exposed body, earning a low growl from the man.

“if you keep doing that, I will use your body as my training tool, princess.”

he sounds deep and hot – you’re being a brat. “then, do it.” and he does it in a way you can never imagine before experiencing it.

✩ kuai liang.

he doesn’t mind having your company when he finds alone time to train his abilities to make them reach the highest point; on the contrary, he finds it amusing how you even bring snacks with you as if his training session is a scene coming out of your favorite show – you admit it though, he’s your favorite show to watch because how it cannot be when he has sightworthy attractive and cute features, especially in the training area in which he has nothing on the half of his body – yes, you see it every day and night yet it’s far more different when it comes to seeing him training with his tools to strength himself up.

watching him jumping, crouching, using his knives with long ropes you happen to have on your wrist a night ago, your hand stop in mid-air, not being able to eat a snack because of how your mouth keeps getting wet – the hotness coming from him and hitting you on the face heavily isn’t related to his ability, no, it’s only coming thanks to being so damn attractive right now; all sweaty, breathing heavily and rapidly, movements perfect, gaze he gives to you breathtaking.

“what is it princess?” he will ask, a knowing smile on his face, taking a bottle of water to drink as he sits down beside you, radiating two different kinds of warmness to your body, “I am the one who trains and you seem to be the one with no steady breath.”

his teasing stops when you can’t help yourself and touch the scorpion tattoo on his thick and big arm, moving from there to his shoulder slowly. chuckling, you say as your hands travel on his wet chest and abdomen playfully, “who has no steady breath now handsome?”

“oh?” he holds your wrist, pulling you closer, hot breath hitting your neck when he puts a kiss on there, “when I am finished with the train, you even won’t be able to have a brain to remember how to breathe, pretty.”

✩ tomas.

“what now?” he will ask firstly, trying to find a few excuses to tell after you sit on the ground, smiling widely and telling him you want to watch him as he trains – because, ugh, he knows he will get all shy and missing a few steps, or doing his sessions incorrectly with the effects of having your piercing eyes on him, studying him, literally seeing every move and it makes him a bit nervous because being the cute little boyfriend, tomas wants to be as perfect as he can be in front of you – no one else’s, except his brothers.

his desire to impress you in every way, the situation as possible gives him a bit of sadness when he shows some weakness as he does exercises, you behind him, sitting and watching – oh, he sucks, isn’t he – he will think until the moment he realizes that you don’t watch him train – well, you do, but not with the way he excepts.

your eyes scanning his arm muscles, back, thighs, and hands as if he’s a piece of art with thick and sharp features he has – he can see how you bite your lip from time to time, smiling face is long gone, replaced by the expression of passion and tomas can’t decide which one makes him happier; to realize his not-so-perfect training isn’t understood by you or to witness your greedy gazes as you keep your eyes on him, clearly liking what you see.

being addicted to pleasing you, tomas smiles at himself and without hesitation, he takes his tight sleeveless top off of his body, showing his body underneath it – getting proud when you begin to lick your lips, thighs getting clenched with pure instincts.

even at his shiest moment, he teases you by standing between your legs, holding you by the chin, and making you look into his shining eyes with joy, “you’re quite an admirer, my love, aren’t you?” he asks, leaving you dumb for a moment before you come into your senses, smiling as your palms position on his exposed chest, playing.

it’s his turn to be dumb at the sudden action, “after what I am watching is the most beautiful sight in all realms, of course.” your hands are shameless as they flow on his top, admiring it as a true admirer.

“then let me put on a show only for you, my goddess.”

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echobx · 6 months ago

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Truth or Dare - Rafe Cameron × fem!reader

summary: Topper convinces Rafe to take part in a harmless game of Truth or Dare

warnings: none

word count: 872

author's note: I was trying to work on a prompt, and it went sideways, so you get a blurb instead lol (still working on the prompts tho, my dudes)

“Why would I play a children's game on my own account?” Rafe scoffed, but Topper kept grinning at him, his stupid Topper grin. “What? You look sick, dude.” “Y/n is playing,” Topper said and flashed his eyebrows. “So?” Rafe tried his best to seem not interested, taking another sip of his whiskey. “One game, come on. I'll pay double for your shit if you play,” Topper proposed, and Rafe knew he couldn't let that deal flop. Barry was still on his neck from the last time, and he wanted to keep some cash for himself too for once. “Fine,” he grumbled and walked into the other room where you sat amongst your friends in a circle, playing Truth or Dare and giggling.

There was something about you that Rafe couldn't quite catch, it was like you were always glowing. When he saw you at the beach or out with friends or studying at a Café in town, one he had just recently started visiting regularly because it was your favorite study spot.

“Can we join?” Topper asked, and you flashed him a bright smile. “The more, the better.” Your voice was like music, high notes bound together by an underlying sweet melody. Rafe had never thought to hear anything so sweet. He wasn't someone who fell for girls easily, he had never really fallen for anyone, but there was something about you that made him want you more than he had ever craved anybody. “I'm not sitting on the floor,” Rafe hissed under his breath, but Topper just pulled him down, and when he heard your soft giggle and caught you staring at him, he forgot why he was so against these games. Your light blushing and instantly turning your gaze away from him gave him an insurmountable boost of ego.

“Truth or Dare,” someone asked and pointed at Topper, “I don't know your name, sorry.” “I'm Topper,” he introduced himself with a polite smile before slapping Rafe on the back. “And that's Rafe.” “Okay, Topper,” the girl who had asked chuckled, “what's your choice?” “Truth,” Topper grinned. “Why’d you wanna play?” “Playing is fun, we like games. Right? Rafe?” Topper looked at Rafe who had a hard time not gritting his teeth. “Yeah, fun,” Rafe muttered and took another drink.

The game went on and Rafe was glad that he didn't get involved much, it gave him more time to look at you. You were sitting crisscrossed, your hair hung in soft waves over your shoulders. Your top was giving him a good view of your cleavage and the shorts were short enough to probably show half your ass, standing up. “Truth or Dare, Rafe,” Topper asked from next to him, and you watched them closely. You had noticed that Rafe couldn't keep his eyes off of you, and it felt nice to be admired for once, especially by a guy like him. “I don't care,” Rafe sighed, swinging his head from side to side. “Okay, dare it is. Kiss the prettiest girl in this room,” Topper grinned, and Rafe wanted to strangle him on the spot. This was not how it was supposed to go. He had wanted to play the gentleman for once, woo you with his charm and newfound sweetness, but Topper didn't seem to think it a good idea. “That's gonna be unfair to the rest of the ladies in the room,” Rafe tried to get himself out of the Dare. “I think the ladies will forgive you, right, ladies?” Top said, with a light swing in his voice, he was way more drunk than Rafe had thought.

You watched them argue silently before Rafe got up and downed his drink, putting the glass down on a side table behind him. Then he took a few steps towards you and held out his hand. You were hesitant to take it, your heart pounding as if it wanted to jump out of your chest. And when your skin touched his you felt a jolt of electricity go through your body, it was comfortable and warm and exhilarating. Rafe pulled you to your feet and held onto you. He smelled expensive, like the cologne your dad only ever used on special occasions. His eyes were of an electrifying blue and his lips looked soft, softer than you had ever imagined. “Are you sure?” he whispered, and you nodded, looking up at him. He was so tall compared to your soft and small physique. Rafe wet his lips, taking his hand up to cradle your jaw in his big hands. He leaned down and you up, meeting in a swift kiss. But once his lips had connected to yours he didn't want to let go again, and you didn't have any complaints about it either. You looped your arms around his neck, fingers raking through his hair at the nape of his neck.

“I think that's more than enough,” you could hear Topper holler, and broke away from the boy who had wanted to keep kissing you. “Uhm, I'm sorry,” you apologized and wanted to turn away again, but Rafe held onto your hand and pulled you back towards him, twirling you into his arms. “I'm not,” he whispered.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #~blurb #my writing #obx #outer banks #obx fanfiction

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harfanfare · 8 months ago

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Idia drabble, fluff, lots of couple banter

Your wishlist containing released games is empty.

In the next several minutes after saving a title to one, you can expect a notification that the game is getting downloaded, and a mere seconds after that—several messages from your boyfriend.

“thought u would never play it lol”

“weren't you supposed to be studying??”

He sends a meme degrading your hierarchy of values as if he were any better. It is followed by a request.

“stream it to me when you play it”

And you do, after thanking him yet chiding him for wasting too much money on you without a second thought. His reply was a string of emojis and guarantee that he is doing it all for himself, because “educating you on the topic of latest games is his duty” and he cares about “the boyfriend points”.

“I hope my love’o’meter for u was broken by all that pampering lmao”

“waiting for my cg to load up…”

[NAME]: “not enough affection points”

“damn”

“i need a walkthroughyt to this route”

Idia has you join a voice channel, with you sharing your screen. Playing a game in a separate dorm is a whole different experience than having him beside you, with his hands almost trembling to grab your controller if you couldn’t get past a certain level.

He would always wait for you to ask him for help, though. Then he could let the feeling of self-satisfaction sink in as he easily guided your character to another enemy to slash.

If he only has you on the voice chat, you might be able to finish the game almost fully by yourself.

You can hear the soft sound of his keyboard as he plays something as well. He divides his attention between you and his entertainment, and he throws in commentary to your playthrough, teasing you when you can’t find a secret key to the special gate, bullying you when you find the puzzles too hard, or when you pick the wrong dialogue option.

At some point, you might try to (playfully) mute his microphone, but you can only have eight seconds of silence before he hacks into the options.

“No need to be jealous of my gaming knowledge,” he exclaims, and you know he has that big stupid grin on his face. You huff, and he hums. “But if you want me to help, all you need to do is just ask.”

“I want to go through this game myself!”

“Okay, sure. But you know you have already missed the opportunity for the best ending, no?” He laughs. “That’s what you get for muting me, kitten.”

No need to spoil the ending just to get back at me, you’d love to say, but you learned that the shy boy who couldn’t hold your gaze several months ago is actually a big tease. You must’ve grown too much on him, as he would have continued the bickering even if you showed up in his room. No social anxiety towards you—that’s a bit of a shame, he was cute when you first started dating.

…Well, Idia you know now is a cutie as well, even if he can be very annoying sometimes.

“Enough. I’m going to play my otome games, bye.”

You log out, and shut the stream, chuckling all the time. A funny feeling tingled your heart, like always when you won (or have you?) in banter in Idia: your heart is warm enough to probably melt through the ribcage, but a subtle alarm rings in your head. Idia will probably take revenge for this.

He must already be in distress. He doesn’t like you playing otome games alone, as if you could have ever preferred a 2D boy over Idia. The thought makes you laugh.

You plop on your bed, unlocking your phone and tapping an icon of the name game you’ve installed. Although playing it with Idia would have been funnier, you are going to play him just out of spite.

…And after that, you will send him a wall of text about those handsome characters, because he needs to be updated on your current obsessions.

The title screen appears before everything crashes and the screen goes black. Several messages in neon-blue futuristic font colour appear one by one.

An error has occurred.

Caught exception:

Traceback (most recent call last):

File “characters”, line 46, in script

File “stats”, line 153, in script

File “story”, line 665, in script

File “achievements”, line 411, in log.1

File “backup_data”, line 139, in log

To continue:

“[Name]-san. Please come to our dorm. My brother is moping (so he won’t be finishing his project anytime soon, which is, really bad) and I would appreciate you having mercy on him.

Once you come, I will restore your data! It’s a promise :>

— ORTHO”

…Damn those Shrouds.

#idia strikes me as a man who can play a games with you but if it's not a cozy game he will criticize you a lot #he would probably love playing with you but his inner desire for winning a game is bigger than anything #watching him play a game is a show though #bring the popcorn #he could be a popular gaming streamer if he didn't fear people irl would comment on it #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twst idia #twst idia x reader #as a computer science student i have no idea if an error like that could occur (burning in shame)

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the-modern-typewriter · 30 days ago

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Hey! I love your work and got into it in the beginning of highschool :) I was wondering if you have time to write about two people (MLM) who have been friends for a few years but always had a little tension? Like a taller boy teases a shorter fiery boy trope. Then wall pinning happens lol. Think it would be interesting if the taller boy was the more dominant and possessive one even if he's the chiller more reserved one. I imagine they're both drunk too lmao.

"You know, one of these days," Aiden said, "I'm going to punch you in the face if you don't shut your mouth."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you have to be able to reach first?"

"I'm not that short!"

"I suppose I could get you a box," Jack mused, as they walked home.

"I don't need a box to reach your face!"

"Maybe a step ladder."

"I swear to god-"

"-You don't get vertigo, do you? It would be really embarrassing for you if you tried to punch me in the face and then immediately passed out because you weren't used to the altitude-"

Aiden shoved him, heat burning in his cheeks despite the chill of upcoming winter and the warming buzz of a couple beers. It just made Jack laugh softly in that aggravating gorgeous way of his, so Aiden shoved him again, harder, up against the wall.

He had wild notions of proving something - strength, perhaps, as he held Jack pinned up against the brick work - only to find himself caught off guard as he looked up Jack's expression. The lazy grin was there, sure, but something else too. His eyes simmering in the moonlight.

Jack's grin widened a notch. Teasing. Taunting, in a way he never seemed to do with anyone else.

"That's my chest, Aiden, that you have your hands on," he said in an oh so helpful tone of voice. "In the world of tall people who can actually reach the top shelf-"

Aiden kissed him.

It did shut Jack up, so there was that, and though he did admittedly have to go up on his toes he could definitely reach Jack's oh so cool stupid handsome face. Ha! His grip tightened on the front of Jack's shirt, trying to drag him down, closer, a soft sound escaping him as Jack kissed him back.

...Jack kissed him back. He was kissing Jack.

Aiden pulled back, panting, eyes wide.

Jack's head tilted, studying him. The simmering intent thing had entirely taken over the lazy grin.

Aiden swallowed, mouth abruptly dry. Scorched. A hundred small light bulbs pinged in his brain. Jack smiled, then.

Oh so easily, as if he'd merely been letting Aiden play at pinning him the whole time, Jack switched their positions. Aiden's breath caught. He was not that short, but he was rather aware of the way that Jack's body pressed flush against his own, bracketing him in, of the way he had to tilt his head back a fraction to hold Jack's gaze. Of how warm Jack was compared to the cool wall behind him.

"Interesting punching technique," Jack said. "Do you wanna try again?"

"Prick." Adrian craned up eagerly to kiss him again and...Jack rocked just out of reach. Teasing. Adrian glared at him, cheeks flushed further. He tugged at his wrists in Jack's hold, fully prepared to drag him down by force if necessary, but found no give.

Jack had him well and truly pinned.

Adrian's stomach swooped pleasantly.

Jack laughed again. Amused, fond, and just a little bit more velvet than before.

"You're so annoying," Adrian said.

"Mm. Is that the look on your face right now? Annoyed?"

"What would you call it?"

"Turned on."

The simple response made Aiden's brain blank. Mostly because it was true. Mostly because he wasn't supposed to just go and say that, in his oh so composed Jack voice, and make everything in Aiden squirm delicious and entirely too exposed.

The lazy grin returned. "I could come down a bit," Jack said. "If you asked nicely."

"I'm not that short!"

"Then kiss me."

Aiden managed to get their lips to brush that time, close enough for Jack to nip his mouth gently. It wasn't enough. It wasn't anywhere near enough.

"I hate you," Aiden huffed.

"I'm getting that."

"You really should shut up."

"If only someone was tall enough to kiss me, I would."

Aiden glared at him again. "Just you wait until we're in bed. Then you won't be vertically cheating!"

"Vertically cheating, huh?"

"It's what it's called when people are like you."

"I see. But when we're in bed together, as you suggest, you're totally not going to end up writhing beneath me?"

Well wasn't that a mental image.

"Please just bloody kiss me already!"

Jack leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead.

"Oh, come on." Aiden tried to sound grumpy, livid, instead of utterly delighted. He didn't think it worked.

"Ask nicely," Jack sing-songed.

"You want to kiss me too just as badly, I can see it on your face."

"Yes. But I can kiss you all I like." Jack proved the point by leaning down, pressing a succession of kisses to Aiden's temple, his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He dodged with uncanny, teasing swiftness when Aiden tried to capture his mouth. "See."

"Please," Aiden said, after a beat, "kiss me."

And, oh so obligingly, Jack did.

They hurried the rest of the way home after that.

#m/m #m/m romance #m/m fiction #writing #lgbtq fiction #writeblr #creative writing #story snippet #writing snippet #friends to lovers #first kiss #kissing #idiots in love #tall and short

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haechoxo · 4 months ago

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[7:07 pm]

cw; suggestive lol,,

“it wasn’t supposed to be complicated,” you admit, your voice softening. “we were both stressed with school and work, and it just… happened. i thought maybe, eventually, he’d see me as more than just a friend. but now… i don’t know what to think.” you feel a lump forming in your throat, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on you as you recall the day your arrangement with haechan started.

your tiny apartment was filled with the scent of coffee and the sound of pages turning. you and haechan were huddled at the coffee table, textbooks, notes, and highlighters spread out before you. finals week was taking its toll, and the exhaustion was evident in both your expressions.

haechan stretched, letting out an exaggerated yawn. “ugh, i can’t take it anymore. my brain feels like mush!”

not glancing up from your notes, stifling a yawn of your own. “just a few more days, and we can sleep for a week.”

he smirked, leaning back on his arms where he sat on the dingy rug. “or, you know, we could find a more fun way to relieve some stress.”

you raised an eyebrow, too tired to fully engage with his antics. “like what? please don’t say more coffee, because i’m pretty sure it’s running through our veins at this point.”

he leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “nah, i was thinking something a bit more… intimate.”

your pen paused mid-sentence, finally looking at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. “intimate, huh? like what, a hug?”

he chuckled, shaking his head. “we could fuck.”

you stared at him, dumbfounded, your fatigue momentarily forgotten as your mouth felt incredibly dry, “a-are you serious?”

“dead serious,” he replied, his tone playful as he shrugs, “we’re both stressed, and we’re best friends, what better way to work it out?”

you blinked, trying to process his suggestion, not that the offer wasn’t tempting, the amount of times you pictured kissing his perfect pouty lips, but still! “donghyuck, i don’t… what if it makes things weird?”

he reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “it won’t, i promise. we’re adults, we can handle this. besides, if we can’t help each other out, who can we rely on?”

you chewed on your lower lip, his words doing little to ease the anxiety bubbling up inside you. “i don’t know, hyuck….” all you can think about is your feelings bubbling over, and he finds out in the worst way possible.

“come on, y/n,” he coaxed, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your hand. “trust me, it’s fine, it’ll be fun!”

you sighed, feeling a mix of nervousness and curiosity. “okay, but if this goes badly, i’m blaming you entirely.”

he grinned, joining you on the couch, “deal. now, let’s get out of study mode for a bit. my brain needs a break from all this academic torture.”

the air between you charged with anticipation as he sat down beside you, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. you hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with what-ifs, but haechan’s gentle touch and soft smile as he leaned closer gave you the reassurance you needed.

“still okay?” he murmured, his breath warm on your skin.

“yeah,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. “just... nervous.”

“don’t be shy,” he said softly, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face. “it’s just me, remember?”

you nodded, his lips brushing yours softly at first, testing the waters. your heart raced as you kissed him back, the familiarity of his presence merging with the freshness of the situation, it almost felt natural. he deepened the kiss, one hand finding it’s way to your waist, pulling you closer, while his other held your face, thumb caressing your cheek.

kissing him was everything you imagined it would be—gentle, yet intense, filled with unspoken emotions and years of hidden feelings. as his lips moved against yours, you felt a mixture of relief and uncertainty, the weight of your decision pressing down on you.

just as the kiss began to deepen further, you pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against his, breathing heavily as he continued, kissing down your neck.

as if he’s done it a million times before.

“can i keep going?” he whispered against the column of your neck, his voice low.

previous - next

a/n ; erm… can u tell it was my first time writing a kiss scene🤓 im actually sooo grossed out this was an experience i never thought id breach the topic of… anyway! hope u enjoy!! advice n ur thoughts are appreciated! xoxo jelly

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anxious-lee · 9 months ago

Text

The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known || Hazbin Tickle Fic ||

A/N: this entire fic was inspired by that one scene where Al threatens Husk in ep 5. it broke my heart to see him so utterly petrified so I wrote this as a hurt/comfort for myself

Warnings: mentions of Alastor's control over Husk, slight NSFW language but it's not actually sexual I just didn't have any synonyms for what I meant lol

Word count: 2,466

-----

When you're an Overlord of Hell, you tend to get pretty comfortable with staying in control.

Because one wrong move can mean the end of the line.

Husk knew that better than most.

And even now, after all that power of his was lost, he still found himself more suited to calling the shots in whatever situation he found himself in. It was just easier that way. If he could remain on top of things, then nothing would go wrong. Mostly.

That feeling of security never lasted long, though, because sooner or later, he was reminded of the terrible choice he made long ago. That he gave away his autonomy to the most psychotic demon in hell.

The way he spoke to him. Like he was so small. And insignificant. Like he existed purely for the bastard's own amusement and nothing else. Any input given was condescended to, patronized, and dehumanized. It formed an ugly little pit in Husk's chest. How little control he had once Alastor stepped into the room. It scared him, in a way that so few things did.

At least he had someone else to talk to who knew how he felt.

Speaking of whom, Angel Dust strutted into the bedroom, sporting a fluffy silk robe.

"Hope I didn't make you wait too long~" he whined seductively.

"Not long at all," the other purred.

The two settled down together in bed, soaking in each other's embrace.

Tonight was all about them, huddled together in hell's moonlight.

Husk remained still as Angel shifted downward until his head fit under Husk's chin, knowing just where to go.

He loved to be pampered, that much was obvious.

It was peaceful for some time before Angel's eyes suddenly blinked open.

"Hey. How come you never want a turn at being the little spoon? I'm not unreasonable, I'm sure we could share," he said coyly.

Husk didn't quite know what to say to that. It wasn't something that needed to be spoken in words. Husk dominated, Angel submitted (in more ways than one). It seemed almost absurd to suggest that Husk would be the one being given affection.

"Nah, I'm good. You look pretty comfy down there, anyway."

Angel, however, wasn't satisfied with that answer. He pulled himself back to get a good look at the cat's face, cocking his own head curiously. Who wouldn't want to be on the receiving end? Even once? It couldn't be understated how warm and protected one could feel in the arms of another. And Husk didn't want that? Did he feel pressured to say that because he knew Angel liked to take that spot?

"Really? You THAT much of a top that you can't play second fiddle once?" said Angel.

"I'm just not a big... "softy-cuddles" kinda guy, as if you already couldn't tell," Husk admitted, gesturing to his overall gruff demeanor.

Angel studied his face.

"Not buying that for a second," he said, punctuating each word with a poke to the chest. "Come on, you're missing out!"

"That's sweet, babe, but I'm-"

"Just five minutes?" Angel pleaded, holding five fingers up in front of him, "Five minutes of me cuddling you for a change. If you decide you hate it, I won't bring it up again. I just... you're always taking care o' me. I want to give some of that back to you, ya'know? You deserve it."

Fuck.

How was he supposed to say no to those puppy eyes?

Besides, it couldn't hurt... right?

"Fine," Husk relented.

"Yay!" His boyfriend cheered.

They rearranged their positions; Husk now farther down the length of the bed and Angel wrapping all three pairs of arms around him like a furry burrito. His knees and head also tucked themselves inward to cradle the cat properly.

It still made Husk a little tense, letting someone handle him so willfully, but the touch was too nice to deny for very long. Thoughts of safety oozed into his brain as his body relaxed against the chest behind him.

"See? Now isn't this nice?" said Angel softly, barely above a whisper, "For a man who supposedly doesn't little-spoon, you've got the moves down pat."

"I'm not making any moves," Husk mumbled, smiling loudly in his voice.

"Well, you're relaxed, aren't ya?"

In a way.

Angel peered down at the bundle of fuzz, taking in how much shorter he was in comparison.

"Awww! I never noticed how cute you were from up here." His hand began petting the top of the kitty's head, smoothing down the hair.

And there was that feeling again. The one that couldn't let Husk enjoy a good thing while he had it. The fear of releasing control.

"I'm not a pet," he grumbled, having no control over the defensiveness in his voice.

Angel, ever oblivious, pressed on. "Oh, but you are to me~. My sweet little Husky~."

Finally, the camel's back broke under that straw.

"Just stop, okay?! I don't-" Husk took a much-needed breath, sitting up, "I know being treated like a toy is your thing, but it's not mine. I don't like being talked to like I'm a pet. Like all I am is your little dancing monkey." It dawned on him just how much of all that was directed at Alastor. The words sunk in like cement in a lake, and he turned his eyes away, unable to look at what he just ruined.

Angel blinked. All of sudden, the moment had soured, and he had no clue why. Was it something he said? Husk said he didn't want to be treated like a toy. Is that how he felt? Like he wasn't valued? That wasn't what he was trying to say at all! It was adoration! Not condescension.

"What...?" Angel breathed.

"Forget it. Just, I'm sorry-"

"No! No, don't apologize," Angel interrupted, choosing his next words carefully, "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. It wasn't what I meant to say. I wasn't tryin' to say you were weak or small. I was... I was trying to tells you that I adore ya. You do so much for me and our friends. You look out for us, and protect us, and listen to our bullshit problems all the time.

"I think so highly of you, Husk. You don't take shit from no one, not even me. You're unafraid to speak your mind. You know how to keep your head when life gets messy. I got nothing but respect for you. That's why I wanted to do all this. That's why I want to pamper you with love and shit. Because you're always so strong, and I wanted to... I don't know... give you the space where you didn't have to be strong. Not with me."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Husk couldn't find the words even if he tried. He had never heard such meaningful things spoken about him. Him, the grouchy barfly. How could he possibly come back from such a beautiful declaration? Especially now with how foolish he felt. It had never occurred to him that accepting affection was an act of good, and not an admission of weakness. That someone could be trusted to hold him in their hands and lift him up rather than drag him down.

Angel could never be Alastor. This was not a hostage situation.

This was a security.

One that he felt that he needed in this moment more than ever.

"Fuck... I'm sorry. I messed up everything and spoiled the mood. I'm still not very good at this whole intimacy stuff," Husk sighed.

"I know, and it's okay. I can teach you," Angel cupped his hand around Husk's cheek.

Husk leaned into the touch. "And uh... thanks. For what you said."

"I meant it."

What did Husk do on Earth to deserve such an Angel?

"Look, if uh. Ahem. If you still wanted to... to do what you were doing before... you know, I won't fight you," Husk stammered, falling quieter with each word.

If that's the only means of permission that Angel can get right now, then he'll take it. He gently eased Husk onto his back once more.

"Good. 'Cause I still have lots more love to give you, sweetcheeks." Angel's iconic smile returned.

Even though Husk basically just admitted he wanted Angel to keep going, his praises were beginning to fluster him. The corners of his lips started to rise, and the only defense he had against them was to turn his face away from the man in front of him.

"You like it when I talk to you like that, huh, baby? Do you hear in my voice how much I'm crazy about you? How I'd do anything for ya? Cause I would~. There's nothing that you don't deserve," Angel said, scratching oh so lightly beneath Husk's chin.

Husk squeezed his eyes shut as he surrendered to his smile and tried to crush Angel's hand with his neck.

"It's true~. Because you're just the cutest little thing alive! Er, unalive, so to speak," the spider said, feeling encouraged by this reaction, and bringing another hand to scritch in the middle of his side.

Before he could stop it, a giggle escaped from Husk's mouth. Mortified, he then clamped his jaw shut, holding any more upcoming laughs in.

"You don't have to pretend for me, baby. It's just us here," said Angel, now bringing all three sets of arms into the mix. One pair was tracing his sides, another scritching either sides of his neck, and the last drumming their fingers torturously over his belly.

The giggles rose back up again, and this time shutting his mouth wasn't keeping them at bay. If he weren't so stubborn, he might've given in by now. But it was just too embarrassing.

Husk clapped his paws over his mouth, and while it did (partially) succeed in quieting his laughter, it didn't do anything to remedy the tickly sensations now all over his torso. He twitched and quivered under the touch, but with Angel hovering over him, it didn't leave much room for reprieve.

"This looks like it really tickles. I'm sure you'd feel better if you let all those laugh out!" Angel encouraged, "Pleeeeeease? For me? For yourself?"

Still, he didn't budge.

"Okay. I didn't wanna have to do this, but you've left me with no otha' options." Angel took one hand that was scratching his chin and took both of Husk's paws in it, holding them above the cat's head.

The effect was gradual.

At first, you couldn't hear a peep. Then, over a matter of seconds, Husk's giggles began to bubble up once more, fighting their way to the surface, and tickling him from the inside out.

It was over. Before long, there was nothing between the loving attacker and the melodic sound he adored so much. It started out deeper and huskier, much like his normal speaking voice, but with each passing moment, it grew higher in pitch; the kind of laugh he reserved only for his softer moments with Angel.

The spider took this as a sign to continue and deepened the pressure of all of his appendages, digging into the jittery muscles.

Husk couldn't even recognize himself anymore. He sounded nothing like the bitter old drunk he normally was. In its place, was a goofy little lovesick fool who laughed like no one in the world could hear him. He guffawed and chortled and cackled with reckless abandon.

"There it itihis! There's that gorgeous laughter!" Said Angel. "For a moment there, I thought you was bout to explode!"

The compliment somehow made everything worse. The helplessness of the situation was still there, the feeling of being small, but it was... different. Like he was small enough to be held in someone's palm and protected from all harm. It felt safe.

Husk's cheeks began to burn red.

Hopefully, Angel would be too distracted to notice.

"Aw baaabe! Are you blushin'?!"

Fuck.

As if on cue, his cheeks burned brighter.

"Am I making you feel flustered~? Does it make it tickle more?"

"WOHOHOULD YOU SHUHUT UHUHUP?!"

"So it does. Hmm," Angel hummed as he started moving his hands faster and faster up and down his body. Up his sides, then down his sides, up his tummy, then down his tummy.

It was maddening.

It was tortuous.

It was wonderful.

If Heaven didn't feel like this, he didn't want it. If salvation didn't give him the same amount of relief and safety and joy that playing with his lover gave, then it wasn't worth it. He'd stay in this inferno of hell forever if it meant he could stay with Angel. Stay in this moment.

The demon in question kept on with his teases.

"Who's the cutest little thing~?" Angel cooed as he noticed Husk jump when he touched the lowest portion of his belly, "Ohoho, looks like someone's ticklish! Coochie coochie coooo~!"

Just when Husk thought he couldn't laugh any harder, he did.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA YOU FUHUHUCKING PRIHIHICK HAHAHA!" Husk snorted.

"Oho my gosh! You sound just like Fat Nuggets!" Angel chortled.

Husk's laughter was beginning to go silent, and started getting wheezier. This, Angel knew, meant it was time to stop.

"Alright, doll, I think you've had enough," Angel said as he released his prisoner.

As the spider removed his hands from his body, Husk started panting and giggling hysterically, still feeling the phantom sensations on his skin.

"Need some help there?" Angel offered, moving his hands back towards the other's belly.

Husk curled away from his hands, "Dohohon't!"

"I'm not gonna tickle ya, I swear! I'm just gonna get the leftover tickles to go away. Okay?"

Husk nodded hesitantly and revealed his stomach to him.

Angel's hands met his fur, and although it did jump at first, the firm pressure and massaging motions rubbed away the remaining tickles, just like he said it would.

"Dahamn. That really works." Husk breathed.

"Right? Now do you feel better?"

"Yeah," Husk sat up as Angel gave him room, "You know, for such a compliant gentleman, you sure do know how to take charge."

Angel swiveled to Husk with his mouth agape. "I can be a boss when I wanna be!"

"Heh. Sure, power bottom."

Angel reached for Husk's right foot (or paw) and skittered one set of fingers over it.

"NonononONONOHOHO! I'M SORRY, I TAKE IT BACK! I tahahake it bahahack! Hehehehe!"

"Uh huh. That's what I thought," Angel stopped and huffed with a wink, nothing but kind love behind his eyes, "So. You ready for bed?"

"After all that laughing? Hell yes I am. I might even sleep through tomorrow." Husk said tiredly.

Angel chuckled, sidling up behind Husk and gently cacooning his arms around him again.

"This okay?"

Husk sighed.

"It's perfect."

-------

Wooh! That was a rollercoaster! 😅 Hope the people that wanted lee!husk enjoyed this fic 🫶

#tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #tickle community #tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickles #lee!husk #ler!angeldust #huskerdust tickles

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marvelstoriesepic · 2 months ago

Text

Latte (He)art

Pairing: Barista!Bucky x Coworker!College!Reader

Summary: Your sweet coworker at the café you work at part time is the only thing able to brighten your day. So it’s only practical that he always ends up in the same shift as you.

Word Count: 7.8k 🐻☕🧋🍪

Warnings: Reader having College stress; mentions of a single mother (not reader); some coffee is spilled; Bucky is a sweetheart; Bucky is worried

Author’s Note: This little piece is written for @elixirfromthestars writing challenge. I actually planned to write this a month earlier but life got in between lol. Here it is now. I dearly hope you enjoy what I made of your lovely prompt.

🤎Coffee Cup🤎 “So we’re swapping our cups, and after a while, we’re swapping a glance. And I can think nothing better than starting the year with a drop of romance.” -Anthony Lazaro

Masterlist

The windows of the coffee shop receive more of your attention than the assortment of pastries you’re supposed to prepare to showcase behind the counter.

It’s fifteen minutes before Bucky’s shift starts and your belly flutters at the thought of seeing him again.

The early morning sun filters through the windows, offering a soft glow that casts warm beams of light to sweep across the floor and catch the glistening frosting on the cinnamon rolls. Their sweet, spiced aroma laced with hints of vanilla and brown sugar wafts through the air.

However, your gaze is more drawn to the street outside, scanning the road for a short mop of chestnut hair.

You like to snag shifts before the classes of your day start, relishing in the early morning hours and being satisfied with getting some work done before studying. But in the two and a half months since you started working at ‘Barnes Brown Beans’, you had come to recognize Bucky seems to prefer working in the morning as well. So, he actually may be the main reason.

Also, you’re usually, coincidentally - or so you tell yourself - paired with him anyway.

You’re grateful for this job. The shop’s close proximity to your university makes it an easy commute and the wages are fair. That’s a blessing in itself. But more than that, it was George and Winifred Barnes, the owners, who initially made it easy for you to love this job.

Winifred had greeted you with sweet enthusiasm at your job interview for a part-time job, making you instantly feel more at ease. After asking a few routine questions and warmly assuring you that the position was yours, she shifted the conversation to your studies with genuine interest and asked if you were good with balancing work and university life - a mother's worries.

It didn’t take long for her to start gushing about her children. She explained to you how her son, Bucky, had been helping out at the coffee shop ever since high school. Instead of pursuing college, like many of his peers and his best friend Steve, he chose to stay in New York to help manage the family business. “I’m sure you two will get along well” she had said with a kind of knowing grin you couldn’t make sense of.

She even shared with you that his little sister, Rebecca, always had a burning passion for studying architecture abroad. Unfortunately, the Barnes simply couldn’t afford a college education for both children, so Bucky decided to step up, taking on more responsibility at the shop so his parents wouldn’t be overwhelmed and relieving them of some stressful work, allowing his sister to follow her dreams.

She spoke with so much love and gratitude she held for her son, it almost made you tear up. She mentioned that Bucky never once showed resentment or regret for the path he chose.

Instead, he took pride in his role, and you could see it too. During your brief time working with him, you noticed how he carried himself with a quiet determination. There is genuine joy in the way he treats customers, always kind and attentive, and he always puts so much care into every small detail of his work.

He also loves to tell you about the exams his sister passed, and the friends she made; pride in her success evident when he speaks about her.

You admire him. He’s selfless, hardworking, and full of heart.

So it’s just logical that his parents gave him so much responsibility early on and made him part of the management.

You don’t mind that one second though, because he takes his authority incredibly seriously and usually shows up for his shifts earlier than he needs to.

It’s why your gaze is drawn to the panes of glass at the front once again.

You got in at 7 today, getting enthusiastically greeted by George - as he told you to call him on your first day - and tasked with the usual morning routine. So, as he disappeared into the small office room at the back of the shop, you had started prepping the food equipment and putting it on display.

The shop wouldn’t open until 8, so you still had some time to breathe before the morning rush would start, but you always feel some kind of gratitude at the way George lets you handle yourself at the front while waiting for Bucky to arrive at 7:30 to help out.

Admittedly, you didn’t get that much done yet, caused by the thought of seeing Bucky walk in through the door at any minute.

You saw him just 4 days ago at your last shift, but the giddy anticipation is all the same and you only have three and a half hours with him today before you have to leave for your classes.

The buttery, sweet, and slightly nutty smell of the freshly baked croissants you’re currently rearranging wafts from the trays and reaches your nostrils, but gets ignored the second you hear keys jiggling outside, and your attention snaps to the door.

“Morning doll!”

Bucky’s smooth voice comes through the door with him, cheerful as always as he greets you with a charming smile, and your chest flutters. A rush of cool air hits your exposed skin from outside, but his grin is warming you back up quickly.

You fumble with the croissant in your hand, but recover in time and throw him a smile of your own, hoping you’re able to mask the excitement you tried to hold in all morning.

“Morning, Bucky,” you greet him back sweetly, turning your attention back to the pastries, pretending to focus on your task at hand.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Bucky pulls off his coat and then makes his way over to you, hovering over your shoulder, while putting on his apron. You try to hide the way your hands get a little clammy in the see-through gloves you’re wearing while touching the food.

You tend to the fruit danishes, their glossy, golden crust filled with rich cream cheese and topped with plump raspberries, blueberries, and apricots.

Carefully placing each in its designated spot, you only manage to breathe a little easier when you feel Bucky move over to the coffee machines, their steady hum filling the quiet space as Bucky busies himself.

“Smells amazing, doll,” he calls over his shoulder and you can hear the grin in his voice.

You let out a soft laugh, glancing at him briefly before putting your head back around. “Didn’t make them, Bucky,” you explain, tone playful but modest.

Brewing coffee and clinking mugs are the only sounds you hear before Bucky’s hum reaches your ears. “Maybe you should,” he states, teasing laced with a hint of sincerity. “Bet they’d be gone in seconds.”

You’re grateful that Bucky isn’t in your line of sight because you feel heat creeping up your neck, coloring your cheeks. Your laugh is a little breathless, a little more insecure than you intended.

A few weeks ago you had casually mentioned your love for baking when Bucky had asked about your hobbies, and ever since he loved to bring it up every once in a while.

“I don’t know about that.” You try for nonchalance, but the blush doesn’t leave your face.

“Gotta give yourself more credit, doll,” he replies easily, his words wrapped in that effortless charm of his. You hear some more clinking of cups as he makes one for himself, just like every day. “Want coffee?”

He asks every time. You decline, like every time. Though he never fails to ask.

And it never fails to make your morning feel just a little bit brighter.

****

Watching Bucky create his latte art has become one of the highlights of your day. There is something mesmerizing in the way he moves, pouring the steamed milk with such precision and focus as if each cup would get graded by an artist.

You’ve noticed how much care he puts into it, the way he pauses before finishing, always needing it to be perfect.

You can tell when Bucky isn’t quite satisfied, like right now, as he holds up the cup that looks flawless to you. But there is a twitch of his mouth, a slight hesitation in his hand as if he’s debating whether to start over or risk making it worse with one more pour.

It’s adorable, really. To you, they all look perfect, but he holds himself to a standard that’s somehow both admirable and endearing.

Today, Bucky was the one already there when you arrived at 8 am, along with the first customers of the day.

The scent of fresh coffee had filled the air as you stepped inside, a soft murmur of conversation around you setting the tone for the morning rush.

He was stationed behind the counter, together with one of your coworkers, Peter. It didn’t escape your notice that Bucky caught your eye immediately, flashing you that warm, easy smile even before acknowledging Mr. Nakajima, a frequent visitor.

It was a small gesture but it excited you nonetheless.

Mr. Nakajima, or Yori as you’d heard Bucky call him, now sits in his usual corner, peacefully sipping his tea; his quiet presence a constant in the shop.

The older man always seems content to watch the people go in and out of the shop, observing the ebb and flow of the crowd, wrinkled hands wrapped around his cup as if savoring the warmth.

Bucky often took time to sit with him when things were slow, sharing long and comfortable conversations that seemed to be meaningful. There is something about the way Bucky treats Yori that tugs at your heart.

It seems, that right now Bucky is comfortable with leaving Peter and you to attend to the ebbing crowd as he makes his way to Yori's table and slowly lowers himself in front of him.

You deliberately turn away although there isn’t much to do for you right now since the morning rush is over and Peter attends to the only customer in the shop right now. So, you mindlessly wipe down the counter, not because you’re not interested, but if you spend any more attention on the guy you might get overwhelmed by the awe he arises in you.

The way Bucky smiles when he talks to the old man, the way his face lights up with that blinding, heart-stopping grin - it has a dizzying effect on you. And the laugh he lets slip every so often, low and full of warmth, makes it hard to concentrate on any coffee orders.

Bucky stays at Yori's table for a while. Every now and then you make out his face turning in your direction, lingering a little but you stay focused on your work.

“Y/n?”

The sound of Peters's voice makes your head snap over to him, blinking in expectation.

“Sorry, uh, you seemed a little distracted for a sec,” Peter says with a shy laugh, scratching the back of his neck, eyes flickering not so subtly over to Bucky.

Alright, maybe you have looked a few times. Whatever.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, doing your best to ignore the knowing grin spreading across Peter's face. Thankfully, a girl around your age approaches the counter, saving you from the growing awkwardness. You flash her a smile and focus on her order.

More customers start to stream in, the café again beginning to buzz with activity. Bucky, noticing the crowd building up, excuses himself from Yori’s table with a friendly pat on the old man’s shoulder. He steps back behind the counter, his easygoing demeanor never faltering as he joins in beside you. You share a quick smile.

Working with Bucky always makes it fun in some sense, time slipping by too quickly. Before you know it, it’s time for you to head out for your first class of the day.

You step away from the counter, untie your apron, and grab your things, already feeling reluctant to leave Bucky’s side.

“Already time to go?” Bucky asks, turned in your direction, his voice carrying that familiar deep drawl. There’s a slight disappointment laced in his tone, that doesn’t escape you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “first class is-“

“History,” he finishes for you, without missing a beat.“I remember.”

You hadn’t expected him to recall such a small detail about your schedule, surprise registering on your face. But you quickly push out a smile, nodding at him, your heart doing a little somersault.

“Hold on,” he insists quietly, already moving to snap up a to-go bag and carefully placing a croissant inside. With a casual grin, he holds it out for you to take. “On the house.”

This isn’t the first time Bucky has given you something to go, insisting you take it as a gift. But it never gets easier to accept his small acts of kindness. You hesitate, not making a move to take the bag and Bucky’s smirk only deepens, playing the same game you’ve had before.

“Take it, doll,” he drawls, dangling the bag in front of your face with a playful glint in his eye. “Can’t let you go to class hungry, now can I?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes with a smile tugging at your lips, and snatch the bag from his hand with mock annoyance. “Fine, but this is the last time,” you warn, rather weakly it seems, considering the way Bucky leans against the counter with his arms crossed, smirking at you in an amused manner.

“You know it’s not. Can’t fault me for taking care of you, doll. You haven’t eaten anything all morning.”

His words are casual, but the way he says it, the unspoken concern that lingers, makes giddy warmth rise in your stomach, spreading to your face and heating your skin.

You hope it’s not that obvious, so you just sigh again, dramatically, and exaggerate an eye roll as Bucky lets another cup get filled with coffee, eyes remaining on you, a chuckle fleeing his lips.

You make your way to the door of the shop, knowing you’d just pay him back by slipping some money into the tip jar when you’re in earlier than him.

“And no leaving dollars in the tip jar, sweetheart,” Bucky calls out behind you, the smug amusement clear in his voice. “Ma told me about that.”

Busted.

You turn you head with a faux helpless look, which only sends him into a fit of laughter, the sound rich and full, echoing through the shop, and your heart bursts, ignoring the people standing in the line wearing looks between confusion and annoyance. Laughing quietly yourself, you let the warmth of the moment fill you up, then quickly slip out the door before the flustered grin on your face can betray you any further.

With the door closed, the sounds of the café seal off behind you and you find yourself lingering just a second longer than the last time.

****

“Girl, I’m telling you, that’s nothing! I accidentally made a girl’s latte with cow's milk although she’d ordered oat. Chased her down the street like a lunatic, I mean she could have had an allergy and whatnot. Turns out it was just a preference and she didn’t mind. Talk about embarrassing.”

You chuckle along to Gina’s story, dusting the cappuccino in front of you with a sprinkle of cinnamon, scents mingling together.

Regina - or Gina as she prefers - is always someone you enjoy working with together. She’s incredibly open-minded and carries that vibrant energy you need to get through the day. She’s got a few years on you but never fails to make you laugh.

While brewing coffee and selling them, she loves to tell you about her little boy, Nikita. You’ve seen pictures of him on her phone and he’s adorable with puffy cheeks, dark curls, and dark green eyes. He must have those from his father.

You know she is a single mother and you admire the way she takes it with pride, finding peace in her situation and insisting that she and Nikita are better off without his father.

You’ve also come to find out that 'Barnes Brown Beans' wasn’t the only job she had but that George and Winifred are so much fairer than her other boss, being supportive and trying to give her shifts that accommodate her schedule so she could pick up Nikita from kindergarden early enough to still have time with him every day.

Another thing that makes this job so valuable.

Earlier was a brief lull in the crowd, allowing you and her to chat. The conversation had drifted into the realm of embarrassing work stories. You shared one of your own, recalling how, in your first week, you had prepared a to-go coffee. You felt that nervousness that comes with starting a new job and as you tried to slide the cup over the counter to the customer, your aim had been far too enthusiastic. The cup sailed past the edge, spinning gracefully through the air before landing in the trash bin.

You hoped that perhaps nobody really saw what happened besides the slightly perturbed man in front of you. But since you shared this shift with Bucky and he always seems to have an eye on you, of course, he was a witness. You remember the way his laugh had erupted, uncontainable, filling the air behind the counter. He had leaned against it for support while you stood there, cheeks burning.

He didn’t make you feel bad though, helping you remake the coffee and almost sheepishly adding that the same thing happened to him once. Only, in his case, it was a porcelain cup. And it didn’t land in the bin. The image of it crashing to the floor, shattering into tiny pieces as coffee splattered everywhere, was enough to make you feel a little less embarrassed.

“Something funny?”

The familiar voice catches you off guard and you look up from the register. Sure enough, Bucky is strolling up to the counter, hands casually tucked into his jacket pockets and that handsome grin on his face that always causes your stomach to do flips.

“Bucky?” you ask, a soft, confused laugh escaping you. You feel your heart jump in excitement and try to tone it down. He wasn’t supposed to come in for a few more hours, and you had already resigned yourself to the disappointment of missing him today. You’d seen the shift schedule last week and the realization was like a cloud casting a shadow over your mood.

So, seeing him standing in front of you only makes a smile stretch wide without even thinking.

“I think you’re a little early,” you assess, voice light as you ring up the girl standing at the counter. Handing her the cappuccino, you glance back at him, the small transaction barely registering as your attention stays fixed on Bucky.

His grin only widens as he shrugs with a kind of faux nonchalance, letting his gaze sweep across the room. His smile stays in place, even as he steps aside for a middle-aged man approaching you.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he teases with that signature edge of playfulness that always gets to you.

As you start to prepare the man’s coffee, you can feel Bucky’s gaze on you, watching your every move. It’s a weight you’ve grown fond of - his silent observation that makes you more aware of yourself, in a good way.

You flash him a quick smile before refocusing.

“Also had to know how that exam went,” he adds casually, leaning in just a little, but you’re aware of that curiosity his voice always carries when he asks you about college. Or anything about your life, really.

You huff out a small laugh, ringing up the man’s order and sliding his coffee across the counter before turning your full attention back to Bucky. “Wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be,” you answer him, a hint of relief in your tone since you had been stressing about this exam for weeks. “I think I did okay.”

Bucky leans against the counter now, propping himself up in that relaxed way of his, eyes never leaving yours. You’re glad you get to talk to him, glad that Gina attends to the only current customer right now and you have a second with Bucky, but the unknown power his gaze holds over you threatens to overwhelm you.

“What’d I tell ya, doll? Of course, you did great. Smartest girl I know.”

You snort, but your heart races. He always seems so sure of your success, having this confidence in you, that you feel you lack sometimes and it makes warmth pool in your gut. “Well I guess I’ll have to thank you, then,” you reply, smile present and voice light but the gratitude is real.

His scent - a mix of something warm and clean, almost earthy, and his cologne - cuts through the usual aroma of coffee beans and pastries. It’s grounding and you have to remind yourself to focus as you move toward the coffee machines.

“Do you want coffee?” you throw over your shoulder, fingers already hovering over the buttons.

Bucky straightens up in your peripherals and you make out the shake of his head with that soft smile on his face. “Don’t wanna keep you from work. I’ll make it myself, thanks doll!”

The door to the café swings open and three girls walk in together, laughter filling the room as they make their way over to you. Bucky’s movements snap your head back to him as he casually slips behind the counter, stepping up to the coffee machines and you head back to the register, keeping awareness of his presence as always.

Since Bucky’s shift doesn’t start yet, he stays lingering behind the counter and engages in conversation with Gina when he notices you getting busy again. From where you stand you can hear snippets of their conversation - Bucky asking about Nikita and when he gets to see him again.

You never realized they are that close but the thought of Bucky caring about that little boy instantly heats your skin. There’s a softness to imagining him in that role, and you can easily picture how good he must be with kids.

After all, you’ve seen it before - the way his face lights up when he catches sight of children toddling along beside their parents, the way he bends down to their height, engages them in little conversations that always leave them giggling or grinning from ear to ear. It’s endearing and really no wonder that every child he talks to seems to adore him.

But what really tugs at your heart, what causes a flutter deep in your chest, is the subtle way Bucky’s attention keeps drifting back to you.

Even in the middle of his chat with Gina, you can feel his gaze lingering on you. There is a quiet fondness in the way he watches you go about your work, always wearing that soft expression.

It’s not like he’s checking if you’re doing your job right - nothing about it feels critical or scrutinizing. Instead, it’s as if he’s simply enjoying observing you, absorbing the way you move through your tasks, as though he’s eager to learn all the little details that make up your routine.

And surprisingly, it doesn’t make you as nervous as you might have believed. If anything, there is something soothing about his attention, like a silent reassurance you never knew you needed.

Occasionally, throughout your shift, Bucky strikes up conversations with familiar customers - frequent flyers whose names he already knows by heart. You catch bits and pieces of their easy small talk, but even then, his eyes always find their way back to you.

And every time you meet them, your heart swells with hope that perhaps the reason he came in early for his shift might be you.

****

Your week has been nothing short of overwhelming and frustrating - packed with assignments, papers to write, and facts to memorize. To top it off, a fellow student had yelled at you for breaking his pen, and you still remember that disappointed glint in your professor's eyes after failing to give him satisfying answers in class.

It feels like you are constantly juggling everything at once, and somehow, the balance has tipped entirely.

Sleep has become a rare luxury, replaced by caffeine-fueled study sessions that stretch into the early hours of the morning.

As you walk to the café for your afternoon shift, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, the exhaustion settling in your bones.

You rarely work afternoon shifts, but this one fits perfectly behind your friday classes and you have been too swamped the rest of the week to pick up any shifts at all.

Your pace is slower than usual, feet dragging slightly on the pavement. There is no real need to hurry today. Normally, your steps would quicken as you approached the café, that familiar, sweet sign with its three big B’s always managing to lift your mood.

But today the excitement isn’t there. Not when you know Bucky has the day off. Without him there, the urgency to get to work just isn’t the same.

But, thinking about it, it might be for the best that Bucky is not around today. You can’t imagine you look all that appealing right now, with dark bags under your eyes - the kind that no amount of concealer could hide. Your skin has that worn-out, dull shimmer to it - the kind that no amount of caffeine could mask.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in a shop window as you pass and wince slightly. The fatigue shows in your features, and for a moment, you’re thankful that this day won’t include the possibility of Bucky catching sight of you in this state.

You’re partly relieved to have a shift where you can simply focus on getting through it without feeling self-conscious. There is no need to hide how utterly drained you feel because you really couldn’t care less how your appearance would affect your customers. You just need to make it through these few hours, go home, and hopefully, finally get some rest.

You pull open the door, gathering what little composure you can muster. The all-known blend of rich coffee, baked pastries, and warm, cozy air greets you as always, along with the chatter from the packed room. It’s busy, as expected for this time of day, but the environment surprisingly helps ground you as you weave your way through the crowd, slipping between patrons.

Your eyes catch Winifred at the back, her beaming smile a quick but comforting sight before she disappears behind the office door with a wave.

Side-stepping two men chatting near the line, you get a clearer view of the counter and freeze - feet refusing to continue.

Thanks to the work schedule you know who your coworkers are today. Peter was assigned, as well as Wanda, a nice, but slightly odd girl with a thick accent and laser-like focus on her task.

You had prepared for them both. But it isn’t Wanda standing next to Peter behind the counter.

It’s Bucky.

Your heart jumps into your throat and you’re not sure if it’s because of the surprise of seeing him or because of how unprepared you feel in this exact moment. You didn’t even check your hair in a car window before entering.

He’s here - on his supposed day off - laughing with a guy on the other side of the counter as he works the espresso machine, his movements smooth and practiced; no surprise there. His presence is so casual and effortless that you find yourself thinking your tired eyes might have looked at the wrong day on the schedule and perhaps you aren’t even supposed to work today. Though Winifred wasn’t at all surprised to see you.

Your head spins at the simple thought and yet a ripple of warmth shoots through you at the sight of him, making you momentarily forget just how drained you are.

While every fiber of your being wants to feel self-conscious about your tired eyes and the imperfections on your skin, craving to stay hidden between the line of people, the longer you watch him work, it gets overtaken by something else.

That same old lightness that seems to follow him wherever he goes and sticks to you when you’re near enough, soaking into your veins and filling them with energy. You can practically feel them fizzle.

You would have liked to linger in this moment just a little longer, but it’s cut short abruptly when he spots you. His polite smile brightens instantly, eyebrows moving up slightly as his eyes lighten up.

You flash him a smile in return, though you can feel it wobble at the edges, probably more sheepish than anything else. Maybe it even comes off as a grimace with the exhaustion weighing on you, but you quickly break eye contact and resume walking.

For a moment, you make out Bucky’s hand pausing mid-motion, hovering above the counter before he slides a to-go cup to the waiting guy on the other side.

Passing by, you can feel his gaze trailing after you, burning softly against your skin, a quiet but intense presence that follows you even when you’re not looking.

You busy yourself with dialing in for the shift, wrapping your apron around your waist, doing your best to shake off the fatigue and the flutter that Bucky’s unexpected presence elicits in you.

From behind you, you catch the sound of his voice, though it sounds a little distracted, asking the next customer to repeat their order.

You glance back, quickly greeting Peter as you pass, but your focus is drawn to the pastry case, where a small woman waits for service. You keep your hands moving, bagging up her choice of pastries - two croissants and four scones - but make out Bucky’s head turning in your direction a few times.

You steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye, noticing the slight furrow in his brow as he works. He’s a little slower now, less sure in his movements than when you first walked in. It’s subtle, but you can tell his focus is slipping. Something about his energy has shifted.

Minutes pass and the three of you stay busy with the steady stream of customers. You remain behind the pastry case, preparing the treats for the eager crowd. In between transactions, you notice Bucky taking a step in your direction, hesitating each time like he wants to step closer but keeps pulling himself back at the last second.

He returns to the register every time, tending to the next person in line, but there is an urgency in his movements now. His hands got quicker again, fingers tapping impatiently against the counter as he waits for the coffee to brew and his gaze falls back to you every so often but you avoid it.

Another few minutes tick by and you begin to settle into the rhythm of the shift when a sudden shout rings out from the front.

Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto the group of people stepping back from the counter hastily, startled by the splash of coffee that arcs through the air.

The cup that had caused the commotion clinks against the counter, slipping in Bucky’s hand and his other one shoots out to hold it steady before it can meet the ground alongside the coffee that was in it moments before.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Bucky exclaims, his voice thick with frustration as he shakes his head at himself, wiping the spilled brown liquor from his hands. He quickly puts away the cup and apologizes again to the man it was meant for and the crowd of people who got startled.

The customer, a guy who looks to be in his mid-twenties, holds up his hands in a placating gesture, clearly not bothered by the accident. His jacket sleeve is stained with coffee, but he brushes it off with a casual shrug. “No worries, man, really. Nothing happened, you’re good!”

Bucky doesn’t seem to relax. You can see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders are still tight as he remakes the drink with stiff, almost mechanical precision. You’ve never seen him so rattled but then again, he has been unfocused ever since he saw you.

Work continues steadily for the next half hour, with the rush of patrons finally starting to taper off. The café gradually empties, the throng thinning out until only a handful of people remain, some of them sitting in booths going on with their conversations.

You catch sight of Bucky leaning in closer to Peter, murmuring something you can’t quite make out. Peter nods, and without another word and a small pat on Peter’s shoulder, Bucky steps back from the counter.

This time, his hesitation is gone as he strides over to you.

He stops beside you, eyes on your profile. “Hey,” he speaks softly, voice low.

You finish helping a boy, thanking him for the tip before turning to Bucky with a small smile.

“Hey,” you reply, voice matching his softness but quieter. You turn your attention to the young girl in front of you, requesting a cookie. Reaching for a bag to tuck the treat inside, you continue the conversation, though your eyes stay focused downward.

“Didn’t expect to see you here today,” you comment, sensing his gaze on you.

“Yeah, uh, I took Wanda’s shift,” Bucky responds, his voice a little more tentative now. You notice him shuffling slightly beside you, standing up straighter.

He offers no further explanation as to why he picked up the shift, and you don’t feel the energy to ask about it. For some reason, the simple act of bagging a cookie while talking to him feels like a juggling act your tired brain isn’t quite up for.

So all you manage is a noncommittal hum in response.

The girl leaves with her cookie and Bucky stays beside you, solid and unyielding in his gaze. It presses on you like a weight as the moments pass.

Your stomach flutters uneasily when you realize there’s no line left to distract you, no excuse to stay busy.

You move automatically, reaching for the paper bags, rearranging them with a bit more force than necessary, trying to give yourself something to focus on, something other than Bucky’s eyes burning into you.

“Are you okay?” he asks finally, slowly and lowly, as if the question is something private meant only for you. It is. You feel the shift in his tone, the way he leans in slightly as if he needs a sincere answer to his sincere question.

It pulls your attention to him and you reluctantly lift your head, your heart twisting at the sight. Bucky gazes down at you with an expression far more serious than you’ve ever seen. His blue eyes, usually filled with a glimmering light when he looks at you, hold an amount of concern that seems to have an impact on his stiff muscles.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you declare gently, smiling at him in hopes it’ll reassure him, though even before the words have left your lips completely, you felt it wasn’t entirely convincing.

Bucky studies you a moment longer. His eyes trace your features, dark brows hanging low, but you don’t take your words back.

Then, after a pause he lets out a long drawn sigh, hanging his head in defeat. He obviously doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push it. The concern in his eyes remains but he lets it go, stepping back from you slowly.

He walks over to the coffee machines, deliberately trying to feign casualness. He grabs a cup and turns the familiar button after checking if Peter needs some help at the register, the whirring sound of brewing coffee filling the brief silence between you.

“You want some coffee?” he asks, like clockwork - just as he does every time you work together.

Without thinking, you open your mouth to decline, as usual. It’s almost muscle memory at this point, your automatic response. But then, mid-through, you pause. Another shot of caffeine can’t hurt. You can use the energy to get home safely without passing out after this shift.

The cup fills, steam rises, and Bucky turns to you when you take too long to answer.

You hesitate for a beat, then shift your gaze away, feeling a little awkward. “Yeah, I’ll take one,” you decide, stepping beside him to grab yourself a cup, eyes not moving to him.

But before you can reach for one, Bucky’s hand wraps gently around your wrist, halting you. The touch is light, but enough to make your pulse quicken. “Hold on,” he remarks, his voice filled with concern rather than confusion. “You never want coffee when I ask.” His intense eyes search your face again.

“If you always expect me to say no, then why do you keep asking?”

Bucky doesn’t respond immediately. He just keeps looking at you, quietly pleading for honesty. “That ain’t the point,” he softy counters but his voice carries insistence. “Something’s wrong.”

You sigh. God, you’re tired. You really need that coffee and you’d certainly feel terrible for getting annoyed at Bucky. He’s just trying to figure you out. He cares. That thought alone presses against the wall you’ve been trying to maintain all day.

Gently, you pull your wrist from his loose grip, and he lets his hand fall back to his side, though his gaze doesn’t waver.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Damn, that came out hollow. “I’m just a little stressed,” you add when he starts to shake his head, “and I could use a cup. It’s just coffee, Bucky.”

You see the muscles in his jaw tighten and his hand comes up to run through his hair.

“It’s not just coffee, darling,” he sighs. There’s a pause in which he assesses you again, then he continues. “Alright. Don’t take this the wrong way, doll. You know you’re a beautiful gal, but… you look like you’re about to drop dead.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. It looks like tiredness comes with an attitude, because your mind foregoes the part where he called you beautiful, only hearing the other side.

“Well.” You draw out the word. “If you don’t want me to drop dead, then let me have some coffee.” There is a bit of edge to your tone you hadn’t exactly intended, but you’re too tired to smooth it out. You also don’t wait for him to respond, quickly reaching for another cup and pressing the button before Bucky can grab your arm again.

Bucky stays quiet for a moment, watching you with those piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through your walls. He doesn’t look angry - just worried.

As the coffee pours you hear him take a breath. “Alright,” Bucky says quietly, almost under his breath. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he adds after a short pause. Firmness, sincerity, and perhaps an amount of regret are all wrapped in his tone.

He used your name. You haven’t heard him say your name since the first time working here. And never with that much conviction.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just… worried.” His voice softens even more, it sounds almost pleading and he takes a quick glance back at Peter, who was busy attending to the few patrons mingling about, before refocusing on you, his hand brushing over his hair. “I’ve seen you stressed before. Like when you kept going on about how worried you were for that exam. I watched you go through the stuff you had to learn in your head while remaining so incredibly focused and sweet during work. I admire that, Y/n. I must’ve told you a thousand times you’d ace it, but you wouldn’t believe me.” He chuckles lowly, sheepishly, and he licks his lips, before continuing. His gaze leaves you, mind seemingly far in his memories.

“Or your first day here. You were so nervous about making a mistake. You asked so many questions, were so interested in everything. I kept thinking about you all day. Every day, really.” He took another deep breath. It comes out a little unsteady and his eyes quickly flicker over to you, not quite meeting your own, but still searching your features.

“But this… this is different, and- I don’t know. I don’t like it. Hate it, honestly. Seeing you like this.”

His words hit you deep. The genuine concern and sincerity in his tone make your chest tighten, throat closing up and you feel yourself losing your breath as he takes a small step closer, eyes now fully on yours again. The nerves in his voice that had been there are gone now. Because he’s sure of what he says next. It’s clear in his tone.

“But, sweetheart, even through it all, you still manage to be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Drop dead gorgeous, honestly.”

You let out a surprised huff of laughter, partly because it’s easier than acknowledging and processing the meaning of his words. Heat creeps up your cheeks and all you feel like doing is bolt out of the door at the other end of the room but your feet are rooted to the spot. Perhaps, the floor would just give away and you’d fall deep down into the unknown.

That still would be kinder than standing in front of Bucky right now after his heavy confessions, feeling too vulnerable under his soft gaze.

You’re not able to meet his eyes, dropping your head. You know he is still looking at you. You don’t have to feel it to know it. That gentle expression, the reassuring smile - like he’s silently conveying that everything’s okay.

“Let me make you feel better, yeah?” Bucky’s voice is barely above a whisper, gentle, yet filled with intent. He gives you a moment, letting his earlier confessions sink in, before taking hold of the now full cup that is meant for you. Your eyes widen slightly when you see him grab the can of freshly steamed milk, an almost eager smile tugging at his lips.

“Are you pulling your latte art on me?” you ask with a light laugh, some of the tension in your chest loosening. There is a little bit of a teasing note in your voice now, your heartbeat beginning to slow.

“Sure am, doll!” Bucky grins proudly, lifting the cup higher. His brow furrows in concentration as he carefully pours the milk with a steady hand, his tongue briefly poking out as he narrows his eyes to get the design just right. You had seen him do this many times before but never for you.

The precision and dedication he’s giving to something as simple as your coffee makes your heart swell. You’re the one watching him now with a soft smile, utterly mesmerized by how serious he’s taking it.

You take a glance at the other cup - the one Bucky had made for himself and an idea hits you. Steam still rises from the liquid inside, the scent of fresh coffee meeting your nose.

You look around the counter, spotting the milk pot Peter had just set down and, without a second thought, you pick up Bucky’s cup, ready to return the favor. You lift the milk and begin to pour.

“What are you doing, doll?” Bucky’s gaze stays fixed on the cup in his hand, but his smile is beaming, curiosity lacing his words.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that,” you retort, your voice playful as you guide the milk with careful precision, weaving your hand in the practiced motions until you’re satisfied with the design.

Bucky’s chuckle is warm and soft and for a moment, it feels like the world shrinks down to just the two of you, the quiet intimacy cutting through the noise of the ebbing café.

Bucky finishes his work and sets the milk pot back down. There is a slight hesitation in his movements as he hands over the cup for you, a touch of nervousness creeping into his stance. You smile up at him and offer the cup in your hand to him. His hands are a little clammy as they touch yours. You swap coffees.

Your mouth falls open as you take a glance down into the cup. In the creamy white foam, a delicate rose is perfectly etched, its petals spiraling gracefully outward. Surrounding the rose are tiny, intricate hearts, floating around the bloom. The detail is so mesmerizing that all you can do is stare at it.

“This is incredible, Bucky,” you breathe out, voice filled with amazement. When you look up, he’s already watching you. He’s breathing deeply and his smile is in place. But there is also something in his eyes he doesn’t try to hold back - pure adoration, shining clearly like he just can’t hide it anymore.

He holds his own cup carefully, as if it’s something precious, something fragile, as if even the tiniest movement would mess up the heart in white swirling in his cup. Though, you feel like the simple heart pales in comparison to the masterpiece he’s created for you.

“It’s beautiful,” you say quietly, a hint of shyness in your tone. You feel a tiny amount of embarrassment but Bucky just keeps smiling, so warm and incredibly fond, that any hint of insecurity melts away.

“Learned it for you,” he admits it softly, his words slipping out like a secret he’s been holding onto for too long. Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening slightly before you look back down at the cup, tracing the design over and over again with your gaze.

“I love it, Bucky. I love these little hearts,” you address admiringly, almost dreamily.

Bucky is beaming above you, and although he shakes his head softly, his smile never leaves his face. He takes in a deep breath, seemingly needing to compose himself and looks down at his own cup, at the heart in it.

“Well,” he vocalizes, affection surrounded by a playful edge, “my heart’s bigger.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes. It’s the only thing I know how to do.”

He chuckles, that vibrating sound, that always makes your chest feel lighter. “I can teach you,” he offers, his bright blues looking deeply into your eyes, so full of affection that it makes your breath catch for a second.

And in that second - because that’s all it takes - everything shifts. For the better. Always for the better, because it’s hard to feel anything negative when Bucky smiles at you the way he does.

“you deserve

the kind of love

like hot coffee between your lips

that loves you gently

but makes you bold

and gives you life between the sips”

- a.b.

#elixirscafe #barista!Bucky #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #college!reader #marvel bucky barnes

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huramuna · 9 months ago

Text

downpour - oneshot.

modern aegon ii targaryen x nanny reader minors dni, you will be smited.

this is for @targaryen-dynasty sleepover challenge 🤭 i got the babysitter au + the prompt 'why so shy?' i had so much fun with this, modern aegon is a menace and also a sopping wet cat.

word count: 4.5k

content: smutty smut smut (specifics under cut), aegon being a little shit (we love it), saltburn spoilers (lol), allusions to drug / alcohol abuse and rehabilitation, mullet aegon, jaehaera and jaehaerys are hel's kids but they have an unnamed / unrelated father, gratuitous use of song lyrics, probably a touch of power imbalance because of her job

murder on the dance floor - sophie ellis-bexter

warnings: oral (m receiving), face slapping w/ cock, degradation, dirty talk (this man never shuts up), face fucking / deepthroat, cum on face

“Jaehaerys! Jaehaera! Please don’t run in the house with muddy boots!” you called fervently, trying to collapse the umbrella with one hand, two teddy bears slung in the other.

“We won’t!” they both called in unison, followed by the unmistakable sound of muddy galoshes squeaking over the marble floor. You suppressed the urge to groan as you entered the exquisite home through the french doors that led to the backyard.

“Boots off, little ones!” you called again, kicking off your own shoes in a haste to catch the gremlins before they tracked grime all over madam Alicent’s home. You had been working at the Targaryen estate for the better part of a year as a live-in nanny for Lady Alicent’s two grandchildren– twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. It was a wonderful job for the most part, as the twins were a delight and you had grown to have a strong friendship with their mother, Helaena. She was a bit dreamy-eyed and wistful, but was a wonderful mother nonetheless, even if she did have her melancholic days.

The estate was huge and ancient, passed down from generations through Helaena’s father’s side, which was apparently a near royal bloodline from days long foregone. Viserys Targaryen, the father in question, was hardly ever home. He managed the family business (whatever it may be, you didn’t find it in you to ask– all you knew is that they were dirty rich) with his other daughter, Rhaenyra, from his first marriage. He had four children with Alicent, Helaena being the only one of the brood to still live at home.

You’d met two of the others as well; Aemond, a lawyer in the family business who was, in short, all business and no play. He never regarded you, really, besides a quick glance or stiff nod. He had, however, slipped you a eight-thousand dollar bonus at Christmas time with a simple card that read;

Thank you for taking care of the twins and my sister. And keeping my mother sane.

- A.T

The other sibling, Daeron, was the youngest of the bunch, visited usually during holidays, as he constantly was studying abroad. ‘Sowing his wild oats’, as Helaena had put it. He was cordial to you and very much had a boyish charm, and Helaena loved to joke that he had a crush on you. When he had come home for New Year’s, he brought you a souvenir from Iceland, an authentic lopapeysa sweater, made from wool and sewn with a beautiful geometric design.

“Awh, Daeron wants you to stay warm, lovey,” Helaena teased.

“I-It’s just– her hands are always so cold, a-and the wool is supposed to help keep warm! The inner layer is insulating.” Daeron had stammered, the tips of his ears growing red.

“Uncle Daeron has a brush!” Jaehaera squeaked, her words whistling through her tooth gap, she’d lost her first baby tooth just the week before.

“A crush, he’s got a crush!” Jaehaerys corrected softly.

Alicent thought the whole thing very amusing.

That left one child you hadn’t met. You didn’t know much about him aside from small bits of conversation you’d picked up on between the rest of the family. Aegon. The eldest of all of them, and apparently the troublemaker of the bunch. You knew what he looked like from the portraits– blonde hair like the rest but with severely more bags under his eyes. Upon entering the home, one would see the chronological order of family portraits.

It starts with Viserys, Alicent, and baby Aegon; the latter of whom is happy and chubby and bubbly.

Then, it moves to the three of them, plus baby Helaena, with her wide blue-eyed stare at the camera. Aegon is still happy.

The next one adds the addition of baby Aemond– there is a glint of sentience in Aegon’s eyes, but he hasn’t experienced the crushing blows of reality yet.

You weren’t exactly sure, but as he got older, he became more morose– more bags, less light in his eyes. Then came the ear piercings, the tattoos, the head shaving, the bloodshot in the whites of his eyes. The portraits ended with this past year’s Christmas photo. Aegon was noticeably missing from it. You’d heard during one of Alicent’s phone conversations with her father that Aegon was in rehabilitation for a myriad of issues, and looking at his photos, you could only guess which one was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

A particularly harsh clap of thunder broke you from your thoughts, coming back to yourself. You scooped up Jaehaera before she stepped on the carpet with the muddy shoes. “C’mon, let's get cleaned up for lunch, yeah? What do we want for lunch today, lovies?”

“Grilled cheese n’ tomato soup.”

“No! I want mac n’ cheese.”

The squabbling ensued, the twins arguing back and forth for a few moments before you butt in. “Alright, how about– whoever gets the floor the cleanest and puts their galoshes by the washroom the fastest gets to pick?”

The twins squealed in delight as they absconded from your sight, effectively going to do your bidding for you. You would, however, just end up making both meals anyway. As you moved to the kitchen, the sound of the doorbell rang. You bustled to the door, not sure who to expect– there weren’t many roving visitors in and out of the estate unless Alicent was explicitly expecting company– which you had triple checked the calendar when you woke up that morning.

You opened the door, expecting to see a debutante or someone of Alicent’s social circle– ‘twas not the case. You recognized him immediately, seeing his mother’s face in his own. Aegon. He was muddy, dirt flecks splashed on his face as he stood under the stoop trying to get away from the pouring rain. His face was a bit healthier than you’d seen it, the dark circles were still there, but not as prominent. It was like a gloomy day, rather than a full blown storm under his eyes. He had the wisps of a beard starting on his jawline, and his hair was cut into a makeshift mullet, longer in the back.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, hands in his pockets.

“Erm– the… the nanny. For the children.” you stammered, his tone catching you off guard. You glanced behind him, seeing a beat up dirt bike caked in mud– that was probably how he got here.

“A nanny? You’re a bit young for that, yeah? My nanny’s were all wrinkly old prunes.”

“Oh– uhm, come in, Mr. Targaryen.”

He perked a brow at the name, but didn’t say anything. He beat the bottom of his boots on the doormat, which didn’t accomplish much. He immediately began to track mud on the floor. “Mum home? Hel?”

“Lady Alicent is… upstairs,” you offered, following behind him at a quick pace. “Helaena is taking a nap– the storm–”

“Yeah, I know ‘bout Hel’s issues with storms. Don’t need to tell me twice. So, you got a name, or are you just the nanny?”

You gave him your name as you glanced at the clock– it was almost time for the children’s lunch and you hadn’t even put it on the stove yet!

“Got any food around here? Fuckin’ famished.” he added then as he nosed around the kitchen, hands still in his pockets.

“I’m just about to make lunch for the twins– uhm, I can make you something too if you’d like.” you walked past him, quickly putting some pots on the stove and starting the gas. You and the twins were on a strict schedule, and if they didn’t get their lunch on time, they would turn into hellions.

“Sure. Whatever the kids are having. I’m not picky.” Aegon waved his hand behind his head as he disappeared from the kitchen and clomped up the stairs, likely to speak with his mother. You fretted for Alicent’s mental state once that was done, and you felt even guiltier for not giving her a heads up.

As the tomato soup heated on the stove and the water began to boil for the macaroni, you unlocked your phone– you were curious about Aegon and why he’d come back, exactly. Well, of course, besides the fact that he lived here (or did, at some point) he was still supposed to be in rehab for another three months. You went to instagram, rolling your eyes as you saw that his profile was on ‘suggested for you to follow!’

You clicked to his most recent photo, the first that he’d posted in over a year.

“Jesus christ,” you muttered under your breath as you put down your phone on the counter to stir the soup.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Aegon teased behind you. When the fuck had he gotten there? “Soup n’ mac and cheese?”

“Tomato soup and grilled cheese for Jaehaera, mac and cheese for Jaehaerys.” you responded plainly, trying not to notice that he was practically breathing down your neck. You glanced over as he leaned on the counter, where you had left your phone. Unlocked. Like an idiot. On his instagram page.

“Curious about me, are you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard enough about me from my mum.”

“I don’t like to pry into Lady Alicent’s affairs–”

“I wouldn’t consider myself an affair, more like a one time fling, eh?” Aegon snorted, grabbing your phone. It took every fiber of your being to not break all sense of decorum you held to snatch it back from him. “You’re not following me– let’s change that,” he mused, beginning to scroll through your page now. “Lots of pictures of the kids here– ooh, a trip to the seaside. There’s no pictures of you on here, eh? Only of… my family n’ other stupid shit, like the ocean.”

“I’m a live-in nanny, sir,” you grit out, stirring the soup with more force than necessary. You consider yourself a patient person, and have become accustomed to how people in the Targaryen’s circle made their jabs. High society and filthy rich people had their own language of insults– ones that you wouldn’t realize they were insulting you until much, much later. It was like a game with a slow burning poison. But Aegon, apparently, was different. There was nothing meticulous about his jabs, no filter, no slow burning poison. It was all punch and sting, like a bite from a rabid dog rather than a viper. “I usually attend family trips.”

“Live-in, huh?” he drawled, his arm leaning over the counter in such a laissez-faire manner that you could feel yourself scowling. “Don’t get much action then, I take it? Let’s see if there’s any nudie judies on here, then…”

“N-no!” you broke then, all sense of manners flying out of your body as you struggled to take back your phone.

“Why so shy? Got something on here you don’t want me to see?” he staved you off, a hand planted firmly on your shoulder as he scrolled through your photos, making all sorts of gaudy faces. You didn’t really have anything overtly scandalous, maybe a few lingerie shots for an old boyfriend.

“Aegon, leave her alone. Give her back her phone.” Alicent’s voice cut through the room like a knife, stunning both of you.

He sheepishly gave you back your phone as she crooked a finger to her son, ushering him to a room on the farther side of the house.

As you fed the twins their lunch, you overheard some yelling, arguing and heated voices. You only saw Aegon later when going to your room to get ready for bed. His eyes were teary and red.

—

The next few weeks went by with some normalcy— everything was as usual, except it was like you had a third child to care for; Aegon. Except this child didn’t listen at all and had terrible habits. He was constantly flirting with you, but also would weave in jabs at the same time— you couldn’t quite tell if he even liked you or not. Not that it mattered, anyway.

You were sneaking in your own lunch one afternoon, eating scraps from the twin’s lunch while they napped— basically just the crust you cut off of the grilled cheese and the small bit of soup left in the pot.

“You eat like a mouse.” Aegon said, always managing to be there to annoy you.

“Too much food makes me tired— I won’t be able to keep up with them if I’m sluggish.”

“Could always drink a red bull or a monster, instead.” he offered, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it in the kitchen.

“You shouldn’t do that inside. It’s bad for the children’s lungs. Lady Alicent says—,”

“Well, it’s my fuckin’ house too, innit? I can smoke in here if I well and bloody like,” he growled, exhaling a puff of smoke into your face. “My mum must be paying you extra to be my nanny too, then? The way you’re up my ass all the time.” he flicked ash in your direction.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest. He was goading you, baiting you into a reaction. He was being insufferable on purpose. You could tell by his pearly white smile he currently had plastered to his face, like a smug little—

“Never had a nanny so pretty, though,” he continued. “If I asked real nice, would you feed me soup? Dress me up? Give me a bath if I’m real dirty?” he got closer and you could smell him— the smell of marlboro reds and cheap aftershave that had become synonymous with Aegon blew out your senses until it was all consuming.

Your mouth parted as you tried to think of some witty response, some barb, some jab— but nothing came out. You just huffed and turned away from him in an attempt to hide your red cheeks. Why were you blushing?

You could practically hear the cockiness ooze from him, his mouth perked into a cheeky smile as he stole one of the crusts. He knew he’d gotten to you.

—

It’d now been over a month since Aegon moved back home and the building tension between you two hadn’t let up a bit— you constantly felt trapped and elated all at once. When you saw him, your chest fluttered slightly in anxiety and anticipation. What was wrong with you?

It was a dark, gloomy day. The seasonal storms were in full swing, pelting the estate in rain and hail. Alicent, Helaena, and the twins were out on an escapade to Alicent’s father’s house— you guessed Aegon hadn’t gone. But, it was a huge house, so surely you could enjoy some of your time off without seeing him?

A rumble of thunder shook the house, rattling its constitution— and then the lights flickered. Flickered… flickered… then… out. It was dark, then, even with your window shades open. You turned on your phone flashlight and tiptoed out of your room, going to see if perhaps you could smack the backup generator into working.

You hadn’t expected to work today, nor see anyone, as Alicent had given you the day off. So, you were subsequently dressed in your pajamas— a hilariously oversized Bass Pro Shop shirt (a gift from your dad in America) and cat-patterned sleeping shorts. Your toes cracked and creeped on the floorboards with each movement, and to your chagrin, as you passed Aegon’s door, it opened. He was wearing a shirt that said “MILF: Man I love Fishing”, with just his boxer briefs on, which didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“Oh. You’re still here.”

“Yes?”

“Sorry, thought you were gone with the rest. Sad, I can’t do the Saltburn thing now.”

“The… what?”

“The Saltburn thing? Dance around the empty mansion to myself with my cock out.”

“What.” you responded with the most deadpan tone.

“Dance… with my cock out?” he repeated.

“No– I know what you said– but why?”

“Why not?”

You rolled your eyes, shifting the conversation. “So, the power is out– uhm, do you know where the backup generator is?”

“In the wine cellar. Nifty, huh?”

“... the… wine cellar. I can’t say I’ve been down there yet.”

“I know it like the back of my hand, c’mon then. I’m sure I can kick the old gen in the nads and get it to work.” Aegon said with surprising confidence, turning on his phone’s flashlight and half blinding you.

You followed behind him, to which he hummed ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ while doing a half-assed dance, apparently from some movie that was definitely something you hadn’t watched– you don’t remember the last time you watched a movie that wasn’t geared towards the twins.

“So basically… he had the whole mansion to himself, and then he dances through it with his cock out, hanging massive brain, y’know? It's murder on the dance floor, you better not kill the groove,” he imitates the dance, sprawling his arms out in the doorway to the wine cellar and shaking his bottom a bit, which was, admittedly, nicely fit in his snug boxer briefs. You felt a strange heat flush to your cheeks.

“And this… is a… what? Comedy?”

“Well, categorically no– I’m not a film aficionado. I guess it could be considered a psychological thriller, but I thought it was pretty funny,” he stopped before continuing into the cellar. “It gets pretty hairy in here, so stick close, okay? Ever seen The Conjuring?”

“... yes, actually. Horror movies are kind of my favorite.”

“Ah, a girl after my own heart,” he mused. “Well, think of the basement in that movie, but instead of a bunch of old useless shit, it’s a bunch of old wine.”

“And… instead of ghosts?”

“Oh, there’s definitely ghosts.”

“... what.”

“Yeah, estate is haunted. You haven’t noticed?”

“Shut up.” you murmured. You were a huge fan of horror movies while simultaneously being a huge chicken shit when it came to scary things– you were prone to hiding your face before the big jumpscare or running up the stairs from the kitchen when it was dark, just in case something was chasing you– and your feet had to be covered by the blanket at all times when sleeping.

“Aww, you scared?” Aegon teased, turning to you.

“I mean– ghosts are scary. Of course!” you offered sheepishly, pulling up the collar of your oversized shirt to cover your nose and mouth in an almost hiding manner– a nervous habit of yours.

“I’ll keep you safe, love, no worries about that.”

“... that’s what they always say, right? Then they totally leave behind their girlfriends to get stabbed by the killer or… eaten by the monster.”

“You my girlfriend now?” he asked, that stupidly annoying and somehow charming smug energy exuding off of him in waves.

“Shut up.” you grumbled as you both approached the generator. It was covered in dust and hadn’t been touched or tended to in a long time, it looked like. “Do… you know what you’re doing?” you asked Aegon tentatively, watching as he inspected it.

“Me? Oh, fuck no. I never know what I’m doing, honestly,” he shrugged, giving the metal box a kick and haphazardly pressing some buttons. “No dice, sweetheart. ‘Spose you’ll have to dance in the dark with me for a bit longer, huh? But, if there's a ghost, you'll be... ghost food, or whatever.”

You pinched your brow in annoyance. “I don’t understand you.”

“What’s there to understand? I’m a pretty open book, you know.”

“No– you aren’t. You flirt with me but also… insult me? I don’t get it.”

“It’s called teasing– picking? Picking on? Getting the goat?”

“What? So, like a little boy pulling a girl’s pigtails on the playground because he likes her? That makes absolutely no sense, Aegon.”

“If you spend your time trying to find a reason for it, you’ll go insane. Why not just enjoy the point of it? I like you.” he breathed, suddenly very close to you. He set his phone aside on top of the generator, flashlight up. It illuminated the walls of wine and cast shadows of cobwebs and dust all around the both of you.

“What?”

“Are you deaf– I. Like. You.” he repeated, his knees bumping yours as you were practically glued together, your back now against the ancient stone wall.

Your lips parted as you inhaled a breath– okay, you weren’t exactly expecting him to say that, or even like you at all– you figured the flirting was all hot air, a defense mechanism, something for fun, not… real. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you became all too aware of the fact that you hadn’t been touched since you got this job, maybe even before that– and your previous boyfriends never made you feel… flustered like this. You couldn’t form words as he, uncharacteristically cautiously, put his hand on your cheek. He was so close, so close– his body heat mingled with your inherent coldness and warmed you instantly. You weren’t sure what came over you, but you leaned forward, slotting your lips against his. What the actual fuck were you doing– you were kissing your boss’ son, her notoriously bad mannered, foul mouthed, sloven slob of a son, and you liked it. Your hand instantly went to the back of his head, fingers grazing through his choppy curls– even giving them an experimental tug, which he seemed to enjoy, by the indication of something poking you in your thigh.

His lips moved against yours like a dance, and you couldn’t get the fucking song he was singing earlier out of your head– It’s murder on the dancefloor– you grasped at his hip, it was fleshy and pleasant, the tips of your finger slipping under the elastic of his briefs– But you better not kill the groove– his hands were exploring, too, under your stupid Bass Pro shop shirt, groping at your breasts with reckless abandon – If you think you're getting away, I will prove you wrong – the heat rose in your body until you couldn’t take it any longer, the two of you were practically eating each other alive in this dank, dusty cellar and it was undoubtedly the hottest experience of your life – I'll take you all the way, boy, just come along – your lips parted for a moment, still connected by a string of saliva, bridging the gap between the two of you – Hear me when I say, hey –

“On your knees for me, love?” he asked, his voice suddenly so deep and husky, his thumb skimming over your collarbone.

You fell to your knees for him so quickly– how pathetic. He wriggled down his briefs, already leaking at the fat tip of his cock. He wasn’t overly long, but he was girthy, like a beer can. Your eyes widened, which he must’ve noticed, as his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin. Your mind immediately went to an image of a so-called ‘American delicacy’ (your father’s words, not yours) called Beer can chicken, in which a can of beer is shoved in the ass end of a chicken and grilled. It is apparently as delicious as it is horrifying. Your throat bobbed as you surveyed it, a tentative hand around the base. He shook his head, prying your hand from him.

“Nope, mouth only. Open up, be a good girl.” Aegon muttered, looking down at you, the light of his phone flashlight illuminating him from below– he looked like a God. Or maybe a devil.

Your mouth parted as his hand guided you forward. You wholly expected him to nestle in your mouth, but he surprised you with a slap to your face with his cock. It didn’t hurt, just caused you to yelp in surprise. He smeared some of the pre-come across your cheek, then slapped the head of his length on your waiting tongue. It was somewhat degrading, what he was doing– but it lit a goddamn fire under your ass, the neurons of depravity in your body, wherever they may lie, were alight with each nasty little gesture Aegon gave you, before he finally slid home. It stretched out your mouth, prodding at the back of your throat.

“What would everyone else think, hm? If they knew you were such a fuckin’ slut.” he growled, gathering your hair in his fist like it owed him money, beginning to fuck himself into your mouth, careful to pay attention to your body language to make sure he wasn’t working you over too much. He made sure to be extra careful with his toys, rather than break them.

Tears welled, spilling down your face as you let him use you, degrade you– and yet, he also praised you.

“–such a good girl for me–”

“–you can take a little more, there you go–”

“–prettiest throat I’ve ever fucked–”

You felt like you were on fire, set ablaze by arousal you’d never experienced before– was this what they sang songs about? Dirty, borderline pornographic songs but the point still stood.

You had to chalk it up to the barometric pressure of the storm, right? Aegon wasn’t your type— your type was… well-adjusted, non-addicts, non-bad boy, non-troublemakers. Aegon was the antithesis of what you were into.

And yet— you were into him. You were into him in a pathetic, pitiful way. It made you cringe to think about but you couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes, nor could you forget the way he was whimpering— fucking whimpering! You squeezed your thighs together slightly at the sound of it, at the blurry-eyed, teary sight of him looking down at you on your knees, eyes half lidded.

He pulled out with a particularly throaty grunt, painting your face in his unnaturally warm seed, somehow careful enough not to get it in your eyes– small mercies. Your lungs inflated with oxygen once more as you caught your breath, trying to gather yourself. You felt the swathe of cloth over your face as Aegon cleaned you up with his ‘MILF: Man I Love Fishing’ shirt, which he had apparently taken off.

“You good?”

You nodded slowly as he helped you to your feet, brushing off your knees with the clean part of his shirt.

“Um– so,” he still held onto you, as if he was afraid you’d run away. “Do you want to watch a movie with me later, when the power is back on? Like, actually watch it– I won’t fuck your face, I promise.”

“... are you asking me on a date?”

“Umm… yeah. I think.”

“Maybe we could watch Saltburn?” you offered with a shrug.

–

“Your mum texted me,” you whispered. “The bridge is temporarily washed out from the storm, they won’t be back ‘til tomorrow.”

“Do you know what that means?” Aegon said, suddenly giddy. You both had just finished watching Saltburn, and you finally understood what the ‘Saltburn thing’ was.

“You know your mum has like ten security cameras set up around the house, right?”

“Okay… and?”

“I’m not dancing naked in the hallway, Aegon.”

“How about just in my room? Please?”

You gave a sigh, beginning to take your clothes off.

“Siri, play ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor.”

‘Okay. Now playing ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor, as featured in Saltburn.’

It's murder on the dancefloor!

But you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey!

It's murder on the dancefloor.

But you better not steal the moves.

DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down.

#aemondtarqaryenssleepover #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii #hotd #house of the dragon #my writing #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fic #downpour #modern aegon ii #modern aegon ii x reader

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year ago

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UNOFFICIAL

A/N: i know, it's still not the 3rd part of one summer BUT at least it's something new! it is also based on a dream i had about my work crush lol

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

SUMMARY: You and Harry are in a temporary phase of bein unofficial, but you don't mind it, especially the tiny moments you share when no one is looking.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

The pub is buzzing as always, the atmosphere is lively, warm, loud but not too much, most of the tables are occupied by the same usual people, glasses, ful, half full and empty are scattered all over every surface. The bartenders are working relentlessly behind the bar, one drink after the other lands on the counter. It’s not exactly the hottest spot in town, but there’s a core circle that knows and loves the personality of this place and it brings them back every week.

Your group is part of those people, you’ve been spending Friday nights here for as long as you’ve been working at the university, which has been for over two years now. You were fresh out of your PHD studies, very excited to start teaching as a professor finally and who you are lucky enough to call your friends now welcomed you at the school with open arms.

Sarah was the first one you connected with, women in STEM have a deep, instant bond, especially in a male dominant field such as physics. She invited you out for lunch on your first day and introduced you to the rest of the group. Mitch, the quiet but loving husband, Jeff who speaks enough for Mitch and himself as well, Pauli, the energy bomb and then there’s Harry.

It still makes you smile when you think of the first few months of knowing Harry. You were convinced he didn’t like you, because he seemed timid and tense in your presence, almost avoiding having even the simplest conversation with you. One night when the two of you ended up sharing a cab home from the pub and you had just one too many beers you questioned if you’d done anything to upset him.

He looked shocked and explained that he’s just a bit slow to open up to new people and he was also a bit taken aback by you and how extroverted and bubbly you were. He apologized if it all came off wrong, you laughed about it and it was already forgotten.

Since then, you’ve gotten the closest to him. In every way.

Sarah is telling you about a funny encounter she had with a student this week, she always has the weirdest stories, you’re listening to her, but your sixth sense also kicks in and as the door of the pub opens you know it’s Harry even before looking there.

He runs a hand through his hair as he looks around, his glasses fogging up a bit in the hot air of the place after the crispy, chilly october evening he has walked through. He was supposed to leave with all of you but he had to do a last minute consultation with a student, so he just told you to go ahead and he would join you later.

You’re already smiling when he finally spots you and slaloming between the groups of people he finally reaches your table.

“Man, I thought we would have to go back and drag you out of your office,” Jeff teases him as he shrugs his coat off and takes the last empty seat by the table that’s right next to yours. His knee bumps against yours, your eyes meet and you force yourself not to turn into a giggling mess.

You and Harry have been dancing in a kind of a gray, unofficial zone for a while now. After the rocky start your friendship bloomed easily, but since last semester it’s been more than that. You have no idea when or how, but slowly, you just knew you were more than friends. It started with meeting without the rest of the group, having lunch or dinner, making plans, just the two of you, endless conversations, building a connection you’ve probably never had with anyone before. Secret glances, small touches, you fell for him without even realizing.

The past month it’s been intensifying, but you still haven’t talked about it, not even after you kissed a few weeks ago. It happened at your place, so naturally and smoothly, you were cooking together, he had opened a bottle of wine and you were just having a good time, moving around each other in your small kitchen until you ended up pressed up together, noses brushing and he just leaned in and kissed you. It was soft and tender, warm and familiar even though it was a first. Like you were meant to be kissing all along.

Then you just went back to cooking, had dinner and later that night when he left he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth and that was it. Neither of you felt the need to talk about it, but it’s been definitely hanging there between the two of you, you just haven’t had that last nudge to finally fall over the edge and right into this new adventure.

“Sorry, tried to be as quick as possible,” Harry chuckles as he looks around, his eyes settling on you last and you see a bit of sparkle in his eyes that definitely has your heart skipping a beat.

With Harry’s arrival the group is finally complete and another fun Friday evening starts. You ventilate about work and students, then the boys play darts for a bit, Pauli wins as always and then Jeff challenges Sarah and Mitch to play foosball and see who’s the better player and the rest of you are watching their battle. The place is pretty packed, you’re standing by the foosball table and Harry is right behind you, nursing his second beer of the night. People are passing by towards the toilets and back to the bar, it’s noisy in there, but not too much. Harry’s presence behind you is warm and calming, his chest touches your back whenever someone walks past behind him, but he always pulls back, though you wish he would just stay.

A guy chooses to squeeze past between you and the table, making you move back, bumping against Harry and his hand gently grabs onto your waist, the touch of his palm instantly spreading a buzzing warmth in your body. You fit his front so perfectly and you want to stay like this, but you can already feel his hand moving away, but you grab it and pull it back.

There’s just a split moment of hesitation in him before his whole presence softens and he melts against you, his hand resting on your hip as if it belongs there.

You can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips, especially when he shuffles a bit behind you, his nose brushing into your hair and maybe you’re imagining it, but you swear you feel him kiss the back of your head.

Across the table Pauli just smirks as he catches what’s happening while the Rowlands are playing so determinedly like never before, but he keeps his mouth shut and returns to the game without a word.

Harry’s fingers are gently moving, stroking you as you stay like that, until the end of the game, which Sarah wins. You want to pout when Harry lets go of you because you all move back to your table, but you swallow it back. After the ruthless game Sarah offers to buy a drink for Mitch so they head over to the bar and Pauli soon stands up as well.

“Jeff, come out for a smoke with me,” Pauli pats his shoulders.

“I’m good,” Jeff nods at him, oblivious to the fact that Pauli is trying to give you and Harry some alone time.

“No, you need to come. I wanna talk to you about something.”

You just laugh under your breath as you hear Jeff asking Pauli what’s so important as they make their way outside, leaving you and Harry alone at the table. Neither of you dares to look at the other, not because it would be weird but because you know the pull would be way too strong.

Instead, Harry reaches over, his hand finds yours in your lap and he laces his fingers through yours, resting your intertwined hands on your thigh. For some reason you feel the urge to finally try to address it for the first time.

“Is it still something unofficial?” you ask and dare to look at him.

“We can make it official,” he shrugs with a tiny smirk and you just want to climb over and kiss him stupid when he is being so cheesy.

“I kind of like it being unofficial. Because… it’s just ours for now,” you admit.

There’s nothing you want more than to explore whatever it is that’s between you and Harry, but this phase is so comfortable and only yours, you want to be selfish just for a little bit more and keep it to yourself.

Keep Harry to yourself.

“Unofficial it is,” he chuckles and ignoring the buzzing crowd around, he pulls your hand to his lips and kisses the back of it before letting go of it as Sarah and Mitch approach the table.

For the rest of the night, it’s all just stolen glances, tiny touches underneath the table and no one comments on just how close the two of you are sitting. It’s kind of funny how obvious it is to all of your friends, but they let you stay in your little unofficial bubble just a little longer.

You share a cab home and Harry kisses you on your doorstep before getting back into the car. In the morning he texts you if you want to have dinner together and of course you do. You spend the weekend in your bubble, but soon enough, you slowly dance out of the unofficial phase and by the end of the semester everyone knows that you’re a couple.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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lady-of-tearshed · 8 months ago

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Solace

Eris Vanserra x Reader

(Unedited yet! Posted it by accident 😑 I didn't even realized it until @daycourtofficial reposted 🤣 I was so confused lol)

Summary: Eris comes back from a meeting exhausted. He is overwhelmed with his new role as a High Lord lately, and his mate decides to take special care of him.

Eris sighed as he came back to your shared chambers later than anticipated from an awfully boring meeting. He had still tons of work to be done with, new courtiers to hire, troops reorganization, and court finances issues to fix and analyze in more depth. He was supposed to hand back a report about analyzing these financial issues this afternoon actually, but he didn’t even have time to finish writing it. Surprisingly, his courtiers had decided to be kind enough not to bring up his missing report in his meeting this afternoon.

His ears perk up when he hears the bathtub water running from the bathroom. He quietly walks his way there, and spots you pouring bubble bath and salts into the tub. He spots two sets of matching pajamas perfectly folded on the bathroom countertop. You were running him a bath… His heart swells with guilt, feeling ashamed of being absent recently. And yet there you were… still taking care of him.

Pangs of guilt flow through the bond, you look over your shoulder to see your mate staring at you, his brows frowned in concern “I’m unworthy of you…”. His Adam's apple bobs as he tries to swallow the tick knot in his throat.

You walk over to Eris and wrap your arms around his neck, his instinctively resting on your hips. You stare into his eyes with determination and pure honesty shining into them and say “I am to judge whether or not someone is worthy of me, and you, Eris Vanserra, I can confidently say that you are.”.

He opens his mouth and shakes his head to complain, but you cut him off with a sweet kiss on his lips “Don’t go down that path, please.” He sighs but kisses you back gently on your forehead, breathing in your comforting scent. “Okay…”

You smile and slowly pull back to stop the faucet before the bath overflows on the tiles. Eris can’t help but stare at your curves as you undress and sink into the bath first, a content sigh falls from your lips as the warm water makes your whole body melt in delight.

“Why are you still standing there?” You tease as you look over at Eris, frozen in his contemplation. His hands were still gripping the edge of his shirt he had wanted to take off before getting distracted. He shakes his head and chuckles at his own thoughts, thinking about how his wife could take his attention away by doing literally anything. He undresses and settles himself in the bath between your legs, his back pressed against your chest. You run your wet fingers through his hair and he groans in pleasure, leaning his head back onto your shoulder. You smile and kiss the side of his face.

It has been a while since you had any kind of intimacy with Eris, he had been spending a lot of time fixing the mistakes and changing the ways of Beron’s past reign in the past few weeks. You had caught him falling asleep in his study a few times recently, he looked so drained that every time you found him asleep on his desk, you felt too bad to wake him up to selfishly have him beside you in bed. So every time, you only had placed a pillow under his head, wrapped a sheet around his shoulders, and kissed his head goodnight silently.

When you snap out of your thoughts, you turn your head and notice that Eris’s eyes are now shut, his lips slightly parted, all of his features relaxed and his head feels heavier onto your shoulder… “You’re not falling asleep on me… are you?” you chuckle “No…no.” He whispers under his breath.

He sits up and stretches his neck, hissing slightly at the soreness caused by his constant stress, lack of sleep, and probably many other factors.

“I still need to finish writing this report-” He almost moans when your fingers expertly start to knead his poor muscles.

You smile and hold back a laugh at Eris' pleased sounds. His thoughts were now completely off his work and the thing he was about to say. His soreness slowly fades away as your fingers work their magic on him.

As you keep applying just enough pressure on the sore spots on Eris's shoulders, your eyes dart to his many moles and freckles. You suddenly realize that you don’t often have the opportunity to stare at his bare back. “Beautiful…” the words fall from your lips absent-mindedly.

Your words breaking the silence confuse Eris “...What?” he asks, his voice low from the deep state of relaxation you had managed to soak him in. “I said they’re beautiful, your moles and freckles. They make me think of a starry night sky. You are exquisite, my love.”.

The blush on his face travels up all the way to his ears, and he mumbles a shy ‘you too’, too stunned to answer anything back at your sweet words. He wonders how you manage to do it, every word that comes out of your mouth is always so honest and so… poetic.

—

The bubbles of the bath had completely melted, and the water was starting to turn cold when you both decided to get out of the bath. You had braided your damp hair before the two of you quite literally crawled your way under the soft duvet of your bed.

Eris was gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, admiring your peaceful figure lying down in front of him. He was trying his best to heat up your ice-cold feet with his legs wrapped around yours. After years of marriage, he still couldn’t understand how your feet always seemed to be literal ice cubes. You were starting to drift to sleep when suddenly you reminded yourself of something “You know that unfinished report you were worried about earlier?”

“Yeah?”

“You finished it this afternoon.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion “Impossible, I was in a meeting this afternoon-” Realization hits him when he hears you scoff quietly, his eyes soften and he pulls you closer to his chest, squeezing you tightly into his arms and kissing the crown of your head. You nuzzle into his warmth, appreciating the low rumble of his chest when he speaks up quietly before you both drift to sleep. “Thank you…”

“I love you.” You whisper as you fall back asleep.

“I love you the most, my solace.”

••••••••••••

A/N: Well, I was supposed to post it on Friday or Saturday, but here we are! 😅 Hope you like it. I barely edited it, so if you guys notice anything, please let me know 💕

#my fic #acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #fluff #x reader #one shot #a court of thorns and roses #acosaf

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writingforrhys · 2 years ago

Text

as you were

cassian x reader warnings: none! just some arguing and very sassy bat boys LOL. and some nesta and elain slander oh and quite a bit of swearing contents: welcome to a long awaited part 2 of smaller than this! i finally wrote the comfort to the hurt. please enjoy!

masterlist

Cassian couldn't find you anywhere.

He was sweaty, and disgusting, and disheveled after a long morning of training with his brothers. Azriel had been on point this particular session, seemingly being able to read Cassian's mind and know his every next move. He'd been put to the floor more times than he could count and all he wanted was to find you, bathe, and throw himself under the covers for some comfort and some really good sex.

The Illyrian had flown down to the Rainbow in search of your favourite bakery for some custard treat that he knew you couldn't get enough of and a bunch of your favourite flowers. And now, he couldn't fucking find you.

There was nothing better to Cassian than that shy look you'd get on your face when he'd turn up with gifts in hand, like you couldn't believe you were the one he was giving them to. The way you'd wring your hands together and rock on your feet, reaching towards him with that big, bright smile and a welcome home kiss, just to rush off to put your flowers in some water or show Rhys exactly what he'd bought you.

Gods, he needed to find you.

He felt like he'd searched the house 3 times over. He'd gone to the library, the kitchens, even Rhys's study and still no sight of you. It had barely hit noon and he knew your routine ridiculously well. You should've been pottering somewhere.

He found himself standing outside of your shared bedroom, concerned that perhaps you'd fallen ill, or caught on to one of Az's headaches, and had retired to your bed for the day. He craned his ears to search for any signs of life from the room; put off by the lack of light funnelling through the gaps of the door.

Cassian was just about ready to haul ass and search for you again elsewhere, when he heard it. It... you... a sniffle?

The door slowly creaked open, warm light from the hall washing over the unmoving mass under the sheets. Cassian moved as gently as he could, (albeit he was not very gentle at all), and found only the top of your head peeking through.

"Are you okay, honey? Not feeling well?"

His kind words and tender tone made you want to cry even more and you had to resist the urge to not look over the sheets and take a look at his beautiful face.

"I'm fine, Cass." And there it was. Mistake, mistake, mistake.

Any other person would've walked away. Any other person would have wished you farewell and hoped you got better. Any other person wouldn't concern themselves over the inflection of your voice. But not Cassian.

No, Cassian heard it all. Saw it all. He heard the shaking of your speech, the uncertainty. Could hear the wetness. And, he could bet that if he pulled back the bed covers, he'd find you tear-stained and choked up and utterly humiliated. And he was always right when it came to you.

And now, as panic blossomed in his chest, he took a seat next to your unmoving form and placed a hand just atop your body. He was careful not to remove the covers; he didn't need you closing off even more.

"You wanna tell me what happened, my love?"

A head shake.

"Did someone do this to you? Has someone made you upset?"

Silence.

"Who."

You removed the covers now, no further down than the top of your chest he noticed, and the sight of you broke his heart. You were all sniffles and puffy faced and hair so unkempt it could make a Naga run back to the woods. You'd obviously been here a while - alone and vulnerable. His heart broke again.

"It's okay, Cassie, really. They didn't mean any harm. I wasn't even supposed to hear it."

"They?" He was furious. Utterly and blindingly furious. Whoever had made you cry was very soon certain to wish they were never born.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you sighed, realising this was a battle not easily won. Cassian was not the type to let things go easily, especially when it came to you, and you weren't foolish enough to hope that he would just leave it alone.

"Nesta and Elain," Your voice was just a whisper, eyes still closed, "They... they were talking about me. Didn't have many nice points."

The Illyrian was the picture of silent rage. His heart a furnace; one doing a terrific job at boiling the blood under his skin.

"What did they say?"

You were hesitant now, as if speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more true. Your eyes peeked open, looking everywhere but Cass, until a large hand took purchase upon your cheek, tilting your face to meet his encouraging stare.

Your voice wobbled as you told him what they'd said - the descriptions that had hurt you the most. More tears streamed down your face at this and a calloused thumb reached to wipe every one away.

Once you had finished, Cassian stood silently, leaning down to plant a kiss to your hairline, and made a beeline for the door.

"Where are you going?" You wiped at your tired eyes.

"I'm off to kill some sisters."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The door to the living room had slammed open so fast that the walls of the house had shaken. Every head in the room had whipped to a seething Cassian in the doorway.

Rhysand was the first to stand and reach out his hand tentatively, as if taming a beast, "What's wrong, brother?"

Cassian's gaze didn't even land upon the High Lord. His line of sight shot right to the sofa behind him, carrying Feyre and Lady Death herself.

"You."

Nesta wasn't someone who showed much emotion in her face. Her range of expressions only varied between extremely discontent and mildly satisfied. But now, with the General standing in the doorway and a thunderous stare thrust upon her, she didn't know how to hide the amount of emotion bubbling up to her face.

Seeing her sister's agitation, the High Lady also rose to her feet and stepped forward. One of her hands rested upon Cassian's arm, gently rubbing as she lead him into the room.

"You need to tell us what the problem is, or we can't fix it."

"What's the problem, Feyre?" He scoffed, "She's my fucking problem."

The Illyrian's voice was raising with every word he spat. His voice had reached the adjourned kitchens, where Azriel and Elain now tentatively filtered out. Elain monitored the situation carefully, and quickly took a seat next to Nesta, grasping one of her hands in her own.

"Cassian, perhaps you need to calm down. I'm sure Nesta will be more comfortable to talk to you then." Elain's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oh, go bake some fucking bread, Elain!"

"Cassian," Azriel spoke, "You need to choose your next words carefully."

"Really, brother? I don't think I do," He turned to Azriel, "Would you like to know what your little girlfriend has been saying about Y/N?"

The room was silent. Elain was red.

A beat passed as Azriel and Rhysand made eye contact. Azriel's shoulder's squared and his jaw ticked. Rhys laid a hand on Feyre's elbow, who was quick to leave the room with a soft mutter of I'm going to check on Y/N. The three Illyrian's were now facing the sisters on the couch, a storm brewing in the room.

"What did you say?" The shadowsinger's voice was uncomfortably steady.

"We didn't say anything. Get your guard dogs away from us." Nesta seethed at Cassian.

"You didn't... say anything?" Rhysand spoke slowly - accusatory.

Elain was nothing like her sister. Nesta could lie for days on end and not break a sweat. Often, when they were young, Nesta would spin tales about the other children in the village and see which rumour she could make spread faster. When she was confronted, Nesta had no problem lying to their faces again, or telling them exactly what she thought of them to their face. Whatever she preferred in the moment.

Elain was not like Nesta. Elain would return from school or the market, sit by the hearth on the floor, and spin her tales there. The words she spoke never left their house, not by her own voice anyway. She knew from Nesta's approving hums and nods that the next day, whatever Elain had spun would miraculously make it across the town. And she loved it.

Elain did not like consequences, and she did not like confrontation.

"We didn't say anything." She whispered. She dared not look up.

"That's funny, really," Cassian spoke to his brothers, "Nesta and Elain have decided that Y/N isn't good enough for us. For me."

"Oh, I wasn't aware that was up for them to decide, Cass."

"Neither did I, Rhys."

Azriel's face was still stony, "Would you like to tell the truth now?"

"Oh please, what we said wasn't that bad. The drama in your court is abysmal, Rhysand." The eldest Archeron bristled, "You'd think the royalty of the Night Court would have better things to do than gossip."

"Let me make one thing very clear. If I ever hear you speak ill of another member of my court again, it will be the last thing you ever do in this court." Rhys was not speaking as himself now. This was the High Lord. This was your High Lord. Undoubtedly and unapologetically loyal to you.

"Y/N is the best of us," Azriel spoke lowly, "I wouldn't expect you to understand, but you have misspoken and you've made a grave mistake. You will apologise profusely, and from this point on you will do everything you can to make this right."

Azriel left then, his long legs climbing the stairs and his footsteps following the familiar path straight to your room. Elain's face had fallen completely now, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks.

"We have known Y/N for the best part of 500 years. We have known the both of you for all of 5 minutes," Rhys' eyes bore into the sisters, "She has loved us and we have loved her for longer than you've been alive. You should be surprised that I haven't already dropped you at the border."

Rhys turned then to the door, his back facing the room.

"Do not let me hear of this again."

And with that, he followed Azriel up the stairs.

The Seer glanced between her sister and the General and took her opportunity to breathe a weak apology and immediately flee the room.

Typical, Nesta thought.

"Well, whatever you have to say, I suggest you get it out."

She was right. Cassian had been far too quiet. If he left his emotions unchecked any longer, he could very well do something he would regret. Well, he wouldn't regret it that much. But he'd like to avoid the grovelling he'd have to do to Feyre.

"My life is none of your concern," He began, "Who I take to bed is none of your concern and who I spend my time with is none of your concern."

Nesta rolled her eyes.

"What?" Cassian spat, "Would you rather I profess my undying love for you instead of her? You, who has shown me nothing but hatred and contempt since the moment we met. And Y/N who has spent 5 centuries giving me kindness and a home."

She wasn't looking at him anymore, completely silent as the Illyrian grew quiet again himself.

"She means everything to me. I have never and will never tolerate anyone who attempts to jeopardise what we have. Especially not you."

"What do you even see in her?" Cassian couldn't tell whether it was a jab or a genuine question. He didn't like either.

"All I see is her," A small smile, "All I think about is her. When I leave in the morning, I think about what she might choose to wear that day. And on the way home, I think about where I'll find her. Whether she'll be reading in the library, or teaching Az how to knit for the 50th time, or baking or bathing or singing."

He didn't pause to see Nesta's face shifting to shock.

"And when I do get back, the first face I want to see is Y/N's. To see her smile or hear her laugh. Most of the time I can't believe that I'm the bastard she chose to love. That I'm the one who gets to hold her every night."

Cassian made his move to leave, but just before he reached the doorway, he turned back to look Nesta in the eye.

"Y/N is the most beautiful, loving person I've ever met. I wonder sometimes how flowers don't grow on the grass she treads. You're lucky I haven't left you dead on the floor for the way you've spoken about her."

And as you listened on the stairs, your cheeks red and smile bright, you knew.

You knew that you didn't have to travel the universe to find someone who loves you. You didn't need to have a different body or a different mind to find someone who sees you.

Because Cassian was here, in this house, loving you and seeing you. For everything you are.

He loved you just as you were.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #acotar #acotar smut #acotar fluff #cassian acotar #acotar x reader #acotar drabble #acotar oneshot #rhysand acotar #azriel acotar #cassian x you #cassian x reader #cassian imagine #cassian fluff #acotar angst

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amongemeraldclouds · 5 months ago

Text

written in the stars

You never meant to fall for your best friend, Lorenzo Berkshire. Everything had to happen according to plan, and this was not part of the plan. Yet each sweet gesture of his was leading you down the path of no return.

Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader | Based on this request

Warnings: fluff, no use of y/n, semi-violent depiction of falling in love lol

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party | 1.7k words

The words swam across the page and you sighed in frustration. It had been the fifteenth time you tried to read the same sentence, but fatigue had made its home in your bones. You finally surrendered, slumping your shoulders and landing face first onto your textbook with a thud.

“There are better places to sleep, you know. For instance, the couch or literally behind you, your bed,” Lorenzo Berkshire suggested helpfully as he closed the door to your dorm room. You didn’t even hear him enter.

You shifted your head, placing your cheek onto the printed words. You could hardly care if any of the ink transferred onto your face. Would it somehow seep into your brain too and help you study faster? “Let me perish in peace,” you whined.

He shook his head and grabbed your open planner beside you, scanning through the scrawled handwriting that dictated your life. “You’re supposed to be preparing for bed now,” he said, shoving the list into your face.

“Too. Many. Words.” You emphasized each word as if it was a struggle to even speak.

“You can’t do this to yourself,” he said, his words tinged with concern. His worry shot an arrow straight to your heart. It was bad enough you couldn’t concentrate on your studies anymore. You didn’t need to fall deeper in love with your best friend. A feeling that you tried hard to suppress. It wasn’t part of the plan.

That warm, cozy feeling you tried not to think about was enough to restore some of your strength as you closed your textbook and packed up for the night. You updated your planner and placed the stationery away for tomorrow. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” you said, rubbing the back of your head.

Enzo just smiled and exhaled as if you were being ridiculous. “Well you can’t stop me from caring, you’re my best friend. Besides, what would you do without me?” He said, holding out a paper bag to you.

You stared at his smiling face just a beat longer, trying to save it for later, and turned your attention to the paper bag. You opened it and peered inside, it drove the arrow further through your heart. “You didn’t have to get me my favorite candle,” you began.

“But I had to, yours is nearly over,” he said pointedly looking at your burning candle, whose flames flirted dangerously with the bottom of the glass jar. “It’s a freshly scented fire hazard at this point.”

You frowned and took out the second item from the bag. It was exactly the book you wanted to read. You gasped excitedly. It was sold out everywhere but he managed to get a copy for you. You couldn’t find the words so your excitement sent you leaping into his arms instead. The impact surprised him but he caught you, holding on tightly as he lifted you off the floor.

You inhaled the scent of his soap and cologne, your heart fluttering at the familiar scent. “Thank you,” you said, burrowing your head into his neck. He exhaled sharply as if your gesture took the breath out from him, but you dismissed it as a delusion. As far as you knew, he only ever saw you as a friend and you were not going to take advantage of his kindness. He’s a good friend, that’s all.

You removed your arms around him in disappointment, placing your feet back firmly on the ground and back to reality. “You’re welcome,” he replied, “now why were you studying when your planner clearly said you should be sleeping?”

You blushed, not wanting to admit that it had been hard to concentrate since he took over your mind. “Just, you know me, I want to do well in the subject,” you gulped, you were a bad liar. You were so exhausted, you even forgot which subject you were reading about. But Enzo didn’t push further, trusting that you’d share with him when you were ready.

“Just take care of yourself, okay? Good night,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It sent electric jolts from your head all the way down to the prickling sensation in your toes. A warmth settled in your stomach.

You waved after him weakly as he left your dorm, gently closing the door. You didn’t trust your lips to speak or you might just find yourself asking him to stay.

Of course guys and girls could be friends together, unless the boy was Lorenzo Berkshire. You huffed in annoyance. You had managed ten perfectly wholesome years laughing at each other’s silly jokes, sharing lunch, exploring new places together during the summer holidays.

He was Lorenzo, the snotty little kid who scraped his knees climbing trees and chasing after spiders. He was your best friend. How dare your heart and brain join forces against you, feeding you things that were anything but wholesome.

He looked at you from beside the Astronomy Tower and you took in his features closely. Time had carved away his rounded cheeks and sharpened his jaw line. His frame filled in the uniform as if the rest of his body was sculpted by the gods themselves. It was clear that he was no longer that little boy you knew.

“Something wrong with my face?” A playful smirk adorned his already charming face. And oh he knew the effect he had on people.

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes as heat crept up your cheeks because you had been staring at him a beat longer than was appropriate.

“If you were actually doing your Astronomy homework, you might have a chance at getting top marks,” he gestured at the abandoned instruments beside you.

“And if I told you that the way your eyes twinkle could rival the stars? My mind would still be on Astronomy, no?”

It was his turn to blush at your words. It wasn’t new, flirting with each other. You were both quick to throw in compliments and jabs at each other. It was always meant to be playful, and yet your words jumpstarted his heart and unleashed an entire zoo in his stomach.

“You must be a black hole,” he quipped, turning the tables, “because I can’t help but get lost in your eyes.”

You hid your smirk behind the thermos he had brought you and took a sip. It was your new favorite tea. It shouldn’t have surprised you that you that he knew how you liked your tea despite your affinity for trying new flavors.

After all, he remembered you’d be here tonight to do your Astronomy homework and he wanted to keep you company. Just like he remembered to save you your favorite breakfast croissant when you arrived late at the Great Hall. Then there was the time he brought you flowers just because.

It was one sweet deed after another, a small act that nudged you off the ledge and then some. You groaned inwardly as the warm bittersweet taste of tea settled into your senses. This was the final straw. Some people fell gracefully into love then there was you. You had tripped into love and landed face first on the ground. You never planned to fall for your best friend.

Gripping your fingers through the soil, you fought tooth and nail to remain firmly on the ground. But when you moved to stand, you somehow tumbled further down the hill with each thoughtful gesture, collecting scrapes from rocks and twigs on your way down. Dirt caked your clothes. Your hair was a metaphorical mess, so much so that a bird could make its nest there. Needless to say, falling for Lorenzo Berkshire was anything but graceful.

As you took another sip of your favorite tea, you could no longer deny your feelings. You chuckled, sure you were going crazy as you shared your feelings. “Well I feel more like a comet just hurtling in space because I never planned for this.”

He stood up straighter at the sudden fire in your tone and seriousness at your expression. He looked at you patiently, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you know how hard you’ve made it for me these past few weeks?” You huffed, pointing at him. “I tried so hard not to fall for you because you’re my best friend. It wasn’t part of the plan! But you bring me this,” you gestured at the tea, “my favorite tea and you expect me not to fall for you? Then there’s the flowers, the scented candle and books! You knew the way to my heart and you just waltzed right in. How dare you!”

He chuckled and nodded, “How dare I? So that’s why you’ve been acting strange the past couple weeks. No,” he shook his head. “How dare you make me think about you all the time? Did you think I wanted to fall for you too? I just wanted to see you smile, wanted to hear you laugh, especially when it was because of something I did. I don’t know when I started to fancy you but I do and I just wanted to have these little reasons to see you.”

You both huffed as your confessions set in. “You love me too?”

“I think my actions have spoken louder for me, no?” He asked rhetorically.

“But it’s not part of the plan,” you argued, pointing at your planner that had your life planned out in neat rows and columns, down to your daily to do list.

“Maybe it was written in the stars,” he quipped, returning to your conversation on Astronomy.

“You did not just say that,” you said, a chuckle escaping your lips.

“Stop being stubborn and come here,” he sighed, picking up your planner and grabbing a marker. “Here, add me to the plan, it’s that simple. You know you’re in charge of these, not the other way around.”

You looked over his shoulder, watching his handwriting form on the page as he moved your schedule around and he inserted his name. Dates you’d spend together.

“I—” you opened your lips to protest but he caught you in a kiss. The words died on your lips as everything else inside you came to life. You knew then that there was no going back and for the first time, you allowed yourself to want it. To want him.

You sighed inwardly, he was right. It could be that simple. Perhaps it was even written in the stars.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party

#blurb-berry cupcake #amongemeraldclouds follower celebration #emerald's tea party #lorenzo berkshire fluff #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys #amongemeraldclouds fluff #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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