#it's been a minute! so excited to participate again this year

[immortalmrwavell]

A Worthy Replacement - Epilogue

(Original story posted… hold on… this one is brand new!)

Written for @bodyswappingandshit/@bodyswappingandshit-1

This epilogue has been a looooong time coming. I intended to write it way back after the original three parts were posted but I never got around to it. So with these uploads I thought what better time to do it now that the story was fresh in my mind! Not to mention I haven’t written a new story from scratch since around August 2024 so it was a nice little project. Hope everyone that enjoyed the rest of the story will continue to enjoy this final piece of the story to wrap everything up in a bow ❤️

Read Part 1 Here! Read Part 2 Here! Read Part 3 here!

Martin was backstage, pacing back and forth while wearing nothing but a pair of tight black posing briefs that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The entirety of his enormous frame was on full display. He’d already been sprayed up and down with bronzer that left his muscles looking even shinier and more defined than ever. He was a living Adonis of a man. He knew that. It was the reality he’d come to love over these last 6 months since having been lucky enough to receive this gorgeous body and life. Yet despite that he couldn’t help but feel the nerves creeping in.

The last couple of days had been a whirlwind. Thanks to his previous champion titles as Mr Olympia, Martin was automatically qualified to participate. Before that though he made sure to trim his beard down to the iconic mustache Chris had worn every year since his first win, a tradition Martin planned to uphold. He’d been through the official height/weight check ins for the competition and had met all the other participating athletes along the way. All of them eager to meet the one and only Chris Bumstead. Martin was just as thrilled to meet all these other handsome hunky men while effortlessly exuding the kind gentle giant attitude Chris naturally wore. From there he took plenty of photos for his socials and received his number for the show. He’d been through the prejudging show where he and other competitors hit all the mandatory poses for the judges so that they could be ranked. Only the top 6 got to compete in the finals. Of course Martin made it through and now the finals competition was only minutes away.

He could already hear the crowd of people outside chattering away. All of them were eager to watch a bunch of hunks get up on stage and show just how god-like they are. And the very hunks those people were excited to see were standing around him now, all backstage and preparing themselves for the competition ahead. All of them look like man-made perfection. And yet despite that, most of them were stealing glances at Martin! Some out of admiration, some out of jealousy and others out of intimidation. Then again it was no surprise these men felt threatened by him. After all Martin was none other than the three time Classic Physique Mr Olympia, Chris Bumstead!

“Come on… I can do this.” Martin muttered to himself. “I know all the moves. Practiced them a hundred times.” He took a deep breath, placing his hands on his hips as he looked up towards the ceiling. His meaty pecs rose and fell with each anxious breath as he went over the routine again in his head. In all honesty this was probably the first time Martin had felt nervous about anything since he became Chris. Of course there had been small things, especially in the early days when he was still adjusting to his new life as a famous stud, but overall he’s had a sense of natural confidence that’s kept him steady. Until now.

“You alright brother?” A familiar voice came from behind. Martin turned to see none other than his brother in law Iain. “Pre-show nerves kicking in at last?” He asked half jokingly as he strolled up.

Martin flashed Iain a shaky smile. “That obvious?”

Iain had been a pillar for Martin over these last few weeks. Sure Martin might’ve absorbed the essence of Chris Bumstead but the strain this prep for the Olympia had put on him both physically and mentally had been one of the biggest challenges of his life. If it hadn’t been for Iain encouraging him along every step of the way, Martin didn’t think he would’ve got this far. It was only because of him that Martin now had the chance to really prove to himself that he was a worthy replacement.

Iain did a good job at calming Martin down and reminding him of all the hard work he’d put in to get here. Reassuring Martin that he looked even more insane than he did last year and that he was gonna blow everyone away just like he had every time before. It helped of course but Martin still couldn’t shake the nerves completely. Who the hell could? He could tell from his memories that even the original Chris had felt this way almost every time. Only for Martin there was the added layer that this would be his first real olympia that wasn’t just an absorbed memory.

“Just breathe.” Iain said. “Everyone out there is going to love you. And they love you because you’re the best. Not just as a bodybuilder and a champion, but as a man.” It was almost strange for Martin to hear Iain sound so sentimental. He was usually the rough manly man type who’d rather shout his words of encouragement but if anything gentleness of Iain’s managed to hit even harder. “You’ll do amazing brother.”

Martin didn’t think he’d ever been more attracted to Iain than he was in that moment. He wanted nothing more than to cup Iain’s gorgeous face in his hands and press their lips together. Martin had fantasised about it many times but right now the longing to take the man before him in a loving embrace was more powerful than it had ever been. His hands shook slightly at his sides as he imagined it so vividly… but like always Martin held himself back. He knew it couldn’t be. Iain was his straight brother in law, married to Chris’ sister. So instead Martin smiled towards Iain like he always did, burying his feelings yet again…

———

The crowd exploded into a roar of cheers and excitement when Martin walked on stage alongside the other men. Already he could hear some people chanting his nickname “Cbum”. He grinned large and wide as he waved to the crowd, portraying a vision of unwavering confidence despite his inner doubts.

And just like that, the finals were underway.

The hot glimmering lighting shone down on Martin as he hit each and every of the mandatory poses. He began with the iconic front double biceps followed by a strong side chest that emphasised just how god-like his physique was. Martin then turned on his heel, facing away from the audience and judges as he hit the back double biceps where he made sure to show off the incredible definition in his glutes, hamstrings and his back itself. After which he turned to face front again before hitting an effortless vacuum by contracting his abdominals while spreading his legs and putting his gigantic quads on full display. And finally he was able to hit a pose of his choice and Martin had long since decided what it would be. He shifted his stance a little before tossing his left arm up into a strong flex while lifting his right arm and placing that hand behind his head to make for a breathtaking display.

Despite the anxiety thumping in his chest, Martin couldn't help but feel exhilarated at the same time. Seeing all those adoring eyes watching him and scanning his body. It left Martin with a complex mix of emotions that were difficult to even put into words. Yet he smiled on as the judges closely analysed his body during the act. Scanning his form, its proportions and symmetry while noting his perfect execution of every pose. He’d left an impression he knew that much but that was a given considering who he was. And as soon as his act finished, Martin placed his hands together and bowed slightly as the crowd gave him a thunderous applause.

The rest of the finalists each had their turns to go through the mandatory poses and a pose of their choice. Each athlete gave it their all but as usual ‘Chris Bumstead’ was a hard act to follow. Martin watched on as he caught his breath, proud of the performance he’d put in so far but he knew there was more to come yet.

It wasn’t long before all 6 finalists were called back on stage for the Pose-Down. They all stood equal parts away from each other with Martin being near the centre of the stage before music erupted from the speakers. Now was the time for each athlete to go completely freestyle. They had about a minute and half where they were allowed to move across the stage and hit any pose they wanted! Martin had already for this and the second that music came on his body practically kicked into auto pilot as he cycled through some of his best poses. Making sure to hide his weaker points while emphasising his strengths. All the while trying his best to exude as much confidence and charisma as possible on stage in an effort to outshine all his fellow competitors. They were all great guys but at the end of the day Martin was here to prove his worthiness of the title he’d inherited.

The Pose-Down felt as though it lasted an eternity but eventually the music began to fade as the last act came to a close. Martin and the other competitors were asked to stand in a tight line up together as the judges came to their decisions. Martin tried his best to portray a look of pure stoicism but a creeping sense of nervousness couldn’t help shining through. This was the moment of truth. Either he’d leave this stage with a gold medal or he’d have to face the fact that perhaps Mr Wavell was wrong about him. It was a high bar but Martin was holding himself to it. He had to win.

And so after some discussion with the judges, the announcer began to call each placing along. First was of course 5th place and 4th place after that. Each name that was called received a hefty round of applause no matter which place they were in along with congrats from each of the other bodybuilders. But the name “Chris Bumstead” had yet to be called. 3rd place was then announced and once again it wasn’t Martin, leaving him in the final two. He made sure to clap for 3rd place just as he had for the others before, knowing just how hard they’d all worked to get this far. At the same time it felt as though his heart was going to explode under the tension of what was to come next.

There was a long pause after that. Martin rocked on the spot a little, struggling to stay still as he tried to take slow and steady breaths to calm himself. And that’s when it happened. The announcer's voice filled the room as he spoke the name of the man in 2nd place and… it wasn’t him. Martin’s eyes widened with the realisation as his hands moved to cover his face in shock.

“…Which can only mean that this years four time Classic Physique Mr Olympia Champion is CHRIS BUMSTEAD!!!” The announcer boomed and the crowd exploded with the most life it’d had all day. People stood up from their seats to clap and cheer as cameras began flashing wildly to capture the moment.

Martin was still trying to process it all as they handed him the trophy. He was grinning ear to ear with joy and relief, so much so that he could cry. Before long he was bending forwards as the gold 1st place medal was draped around his neck and just like that it was official. He won. Camera began flashing again as Martin absorbed the scene around him, committing each and every detail to memory. He never wanted to forget this for as long as he lived. He took a deep breath and smiled as he raised four fingers to symbolise the fourth win of what was now truly his career.

After the initial applause, Martin was handed a microphone by the announcer. It was time for his winning speech.

Martin took the moment to do what any humble champion would do. He thanked his friends and family for helping him get all this way. He thanked everyone across the world who has supported him up to this point. He thanked his teams that’d helped him along the journey of crafting his body and even made sure to give a special thanks to the man himself Iain Valliere who was in the front row of the crowd. He talked about all the hardship he endured to get to this point and the struggles he’s had along the way before complimenting his fellow athletes on the incredible competition they brought today. And he could’ve ended it there. But there was one last thing Martin knew he had to announce. He’d kept it to himself until now but where better to announce it to the world than right here on stage.

“There was also one last thing I wanted to say while I’m up here.” Martin began, heart still racing. “It’s something I’ve wrestled with for a long time and until now I’d struggled to pluck up the courage to say it out loud. But now… I think it’s finally time.” There was a pause where Martin took a long breath before continuing. “I… am gay. And I have been my whole life.” With that the crowd fell completely silent for a moment at the revelation. “I’ve wanted to come out for so long but I was afraid of not being accepted. But I’m not afraid anymore. I, Chris Bumstead, stand here today as a proud gay man!” The crowd remained quiet for another moment but it didn’t take long for a few to begin clapping. Then more and more until the entire audience was cheering him on. Martin couldn’t help but give them all a giddy smile before flexing his free arm in a powerful pose. He could see the headline already.

Moments after Martin passed the microphone back to the announcer however, everything around him seemed to cease. The people in the crowd and on stage all froze in place as all sound seemed to disappear. The colour seemed to drain from the world around him until everything was black and white. His head swung around in every direction, not knowing what the hell was going on. It was as though the world around him had just… stopped. Like time itself had come to a grinding halt and he was the only one who could perceive it.

And then came the sound of footsteps. Martin’s gaze darted all around to find the source until his eyes settled on a single man who came strolling in from the backstage.

Mr Wavell.

“Bravo. Bravo.” Wavell said with a faint smile as he ascended the steps to join Martin up on stage. He was the only thing in the room besides Martin that still had colour. That fact only seemed to make the deep emerald hue of the warlock’s jacket stand out all the more, further elevating the man’s effortless elegance.

“Y-you’re him. That wizard Mr Wavell! W-what did you do to them??” Martin questioned rather frantically as the well dressed man continued to approach.

“Don’t worry about them. I just froze time around us, that’s all. I wanted a moment to congratulate you myself on this wondrous achievement.” Wavell moved slow and casual until he stood right before Martin. Of course Martin’s massive body towered over Wavell and yet the sheer pressure this suited man gave off was so overwhelming that it made Martin feel minuscule in his presence. “You proved not only to me but the entire world that my magic was right to choose you to be the successor to the original Chris Bumstead.” Wavell reached up and removed his sunglasses, folding them before slipping them into his jacket pocket. “You’ve taken his life and made it your own. And with this win, you really can call yourself Mr Olympia.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Martin stuttered. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Getting to be Chris these past 6 months has been the greatest time of my life. I’ve never felt so happy or accomplished. So fulfilled. Not to mention adored. And I never would’ve had any of this if it weren’t for you.”

Wavell raised a hand. “No need for thanks. This gift was just as much for my pleasure as it was yours. Getting to see you transform on that first day was a treat in itself. Seeing you explode with muscle and fill out those clothes right after getting high on those musky sneakers you stole. What a naughty boy.” Wavell tutted with a devious grin that caused Martin to blush.

“You uhhh… you saw that?” Martin asked with a nervous chuckle.

“I’ve seen everything.” Wavell answered, causing Martin to go even redder than before. “But there’s no need to be embarrassed. After all, I'm not exactly a good boy half the time either. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t visited your house once or twice while you weren’t home. Maybe had a dig through your sweaty laundry a couple times… among other things. And I can’t promise I won’t do it again. After all… those smelly sneakers of yours really are addictive.” Wavell said with a wink.

Martin’s mouth ran dry, not knowing how to respond. All he knew was that he was turned on like hell right now and that his cock was pressing hard against his posing briefs.

“But that’s not what I’m here to talk about. Instead I wanted to offer you another gift. Think of it as another reward for winning the Olympia.” Wavell said, eyes wandering up and down Martin’s glorious form.

“A-a gift?! What else could you give me?? You’ve practically given me everything I could’ve ever wished for!” Martin gestured down at the very body Wavell was currently eye fucking before grabbing the heavy gold medal draped over his chest and shaking it.

Wavell lifted an eyebrow. “Well. There is still one thing you’ve been wishing for… isn’t there? I’ve been watching you remember. I’ve seen the way you’ve taken charge of this life. I’ve watched as you forced the original Chris into mindless servitude as your underwear…” Wavell paused, allowing for the gears to turn in Martin’s head. Wavell then turned in the heel of his shoe to face the audience. Or rather one audience member in particular. “And I’ve also seen the way you gwauk at him every chance you get, always knowing you can’t have him.” Wavell continued, staring directly at none other than Iain Valliere as he stood frozen and monotone in the crowd like everyone else. “But what if you could…”

“Wait… what’re you saying?” Martin asked as his brain began to process what Wavell was offering him.

“I’m saying I could make him yours.” Wavell answered bluntly. “A little reality warping so that he was never in a relationship with your new sister. Altering the fabric of his soul along with his brain chemistry to make him so unequivocally gay that he’ll almost always have cock on his mind. And of course I’ll make him completely and utterly love stricken by you.” The warlock turned to look at Martin again. “If that’s what you’d like anyway.”

“Yes! I want it!” Martin’s mouth moved before he had a chance to think. The thought of what Wavell was proposing was just too incredible to miss! However the warlock’s blank expression quickly reminded Martin of his manners. “I-I mean… please. Mr Wavell sir. I would give anything to have Iain.”

Wavell’s expression softened once more. “Then it shall be.” And without another word a purple aura of sparkling magic flared up around Wavell’s body just like it had all those months ago when he changed reality to make ‘Chris Bumstead’ a single man. And like before a powerful pulse of magical energy surged outwards from his body and swiftly stretched across the planet. “There. Iain Valliere is no longer your brother in law. Now he’s just a single man who you met many years ago and ended up becoming close gym bros with. Best friends even.” Wavell licked his lips slightly as he outstretched a hand in Iain’s direction. “Now for part two.” A stream of pure purple magic flowed from Wavell’s palm and wrapped itself around Iain’s head. The magic began reaching inside Iain’s mind and soul before plucking out any straight thoughts of women. Instead replacing them with deeply homosexual desires for other men and a crippling obsession with cock. And after a couple memory alterations, it was done. “All finished.” Wavell quipped as the purple magic retreated back inside his body.

Martin blinked with amazement. “Really? You mean Iain I can actually-”

“Fuck each other raw? Yes.” Wavell said before Martin could even finish.

“Well I was just ‘be together’ but that works too.”

The warlock couldn’t help but hum with amusement. He turned back fully to Martin, taking a few extra steps to close what little distance there was left between them until he was inches away from Martin’s melon sized pecs. “In all seriousness though, keep enjoying this life. Savour every moment of it. Because I truly do believe that you were always destined to have this body. To be Chris Bumstead. So never doubt the man that you’ve become.”

“I won’t.” Martin said honestly. “And thank you again.”

“You can thank me by having some hot sweaty sex with that other handsome hunk over there.” Wavell smirked, gesturing towards Iain. “Trust me, I’ll be watching.” With that he raised his fingers up, ready to snap. “And don’t worry, you’ll be seeing me again Chris Bumstead. And when you do I expect to be caught in a steamy threesome between you and your soon to be lover.”

And then he snapped.

In an instant, life returned to the world around Martin. Colour and sound filled his senses once more as the crowd continued to move and cheer as if nothing had happened. The other athletes continued clapping for Martin in his victory as the camaras started flashing once more. And Mr Wavell was nowhere to be seen.

“CHRIS BUMSTEAD EVERYBODYYYYY!!!” The announcer shouted into the microphone causing everyone in the crowd to roar even louder. Well everyone except one. Iain who suddenly seemed rather dazed as he shook his head a little.

Martin couldn’t help but give the people a few final victory poses. Flexing his perfect body yet again and getting those muscles to bulge into action once more. Powerful veins snaking up and down his arms as his biceps peaked. At long last his nerves over this year’s competition had vanished, replaced by nothing but euphoria. And that feeling only grew when his eyes caught Iain’s and immediately he saw something in the other man that hadn’t been there before. Lust.

Eventually Martin finds himself walking off stage along with the other athletes as the camera men and women all scramble to get extra few pictures of the hunks as they leave. Pushing his way through them all however was none other than the hulking Iain Valliere. Staff had initially moved to stop him until they saw the lanyard around his neck showing that he was allowed backstage with the competitors. He made his way through them all and managed to reach Martin just before he disappeared out of sight.

“Chris!” Iain shouted desperately. “There’s something I have to tell you. I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time but I haven’t had the courage to say it until now.” He confessed, thick hands grabbing Martin by the biceps.

Martin already had an idea as to what this was but he couldn’t help sweating a little as he glanced around at all the cameras watching them. “O-okay… but can’t it wait until we’re backstage?” Martin asked.

“No. I want the world to see this.” Iain stated boldly before taking Martin’s hand in his own. “Chris. I’ve been in love with you for years. I can’t remember how or when it happened but I just know that I’ve fallen for you so fuckin deeply that it hurts. But I didn’t think you’d ever look at me the same. I thought you were… straight. But after what you said up there I don’t think I could’ve held it back any longer.” He paused for a moment, shuffling on the spot before planting his feet firmly and looking Martin square in the eyes. “Chris. I love you.”

“Iain I…” Martin stuttered. The people around them that’d heard what Iain said looked on in complete shock. Even the cameras around them seemed to lower for a second as the people behind tried to process what was happening right now. But Martin didn’t care about them. He hadn’t planned on doing this so quickly, he’d hardly had a chance to get off stage yet, but it seemed Wavell’s miracle was a potent one. So why the hell not. “Iain. I love you too.” And every word was true.

With that Iain’s whole face seemed to light up as moments before Martin cupped it in his hands and closed the distance between them with a passionate kiss. The very kiss Martin had been fantasising about since the very moment he'd set eyes on Iain. And it was every bit as magical as he’d imagined. Their mouths remained interlocked as the cameras tilted back up and began shooting in a race to capture the best angle for this moment. Not to mention the crew who’d been filming the live stream of the event were still rolling and now had their sights fully trained on Martin and Iain, broadcasting the kiss to the world.

Everyone watching was stunned. Most fans of Chris Bumstead, at least in this altered reality, had known him and Iain to have been best friends for the longest time. Always posting on social media and appearing at events together. Nobody would have guessed that this was where it was all heading though! Besides maybe a few horny fans who’d wished upon it but even they were surprised to see their dreams come true! Iain and Chris were in love!

After making such a spectacle of it, the pair finally separated from their kiss. Iain looked up at Martin with a flushed expression that looked adorable on his rugged manly face. Iain wrapped his arms around Martin in a strong hug before the latter could say a word, not caring about the bronzer that would inevitably rub off Martin’s body and onto Iain’s clothes. With a content smile Martin reciprocated the hug. At last he could say that he had absolutely everything he could have wished for. A perfect body, an incredible life and a gorgeous new boyfriend he was already planning to marry someday.

———

Before long Iain and Martin were backstage together, hardly separable as Martin sipped on a bottle of water. Iain had checked his phone to see the news stories were already popping up. Both about Martin’s win and the kiss the two of them had shared. No doubt that was going to stir up a frenzy for a while.

“I still can’t believe you did that in front of all those cameras. You know that’s going to be one of the only things people are going to have on their minds at the interviews and press conference later right?” Martin chuckled.

Iain laughed heartily at the thought. “Of course. That was the point. I needed everyone to know.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “And what if I’d turned you down back there?”

“I knew that wouldn’t happen.” Iain claimed, budging his thick muscled body even closer to Martin’s own colossal frame. “It was like I had this… epiphany after your speech. I can’t explain it. I just knew it was the right thing to do.”

Martin leaned in and gave Iain another peck on the lips. “Well I’m glad.”

Iain snuggled closer to Martin, holding him in another embrace. “And if our little moment does end up overshadowing you win later…” He began before slowing his voice to whisper against Martin’s ear. “… I’ll make it up to you tonight by sucking that champion cock and swallowing your winning load.”

Martin’s breath hitched at that, a tingle running up his spin. His dick twitched rather strongly at the thought. With that on his mind he already knew it was going to be harder than ever to keep his dick under control. Moments after he found himself using Iain as a shield so nobody else around the backstage could see the growing bulge in his briefs. He blamed Iain for it of course but the other man didn’t seem all too regretful.

But with that, Martin’s story was complete. Thanks to Mr Wavell he got everything he ever wanted and more. But that didn’t mean it was over. Not at all. This was only the first of many fruits his new existence would grant him. He couldn’t wait to explore everything else this new life had to offer him. Just as much as he couldn’t wait to explore Iain’s muscle ass with his dick. Something he knew he’d have the opportunity to do again and again and again. And he was going to love every damn second.

[raisingcain-onceagain]

Afire

(read it on Ao3 here!)

Artist: @maglor-my-beloved (Ao3: maglor-my-beloved)

Author: RC (Ao3: RaisingCaiin)

Elrond has found rest impossible, and ghosts all too familiar, in the wake of the Last Alliance and its losses. Now that he is learning of this, Erestor has many thoughts about the matter.

Rating: Art: G | Fic: M

Warnings: None

Relationships: Erestor & Elrond, Erestor/Elrond, Erestor & Gil-Galad (background/previous)

Characters: Erestor, Elrond

Additional tags: Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Referenced Canon Character Death, Post-Last Alliance

Word Count: 5,024

Inspired by this lovely art from @maglor-my-beloved!

[retrosabers]

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

FICMAS DAY 3: GIFT-GIVING

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: as bucky’s secret santa, you’re determined to give him the best christmas present he’s ever received.

contains: grumpy buck fluff, some angst, idiots who are crushing hard, swearing

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is a long one i’m apologizing in advance

i am SO SORRY for crickets in the ficmas department the past week, i hit a big brick wall with this and i’ve been so all over the place with my own holiday planning and such that i ended up having to cut the masterlist in half because i knew i couldn’t get it all done. i’m very sorry to anyone who was looking forward to what got scrapped, but i couldn’t bring myself to rush through writing and put out something i don’t believe it my best work.

also, do people even want avengers fix it fics anymore?? i debated between the “everything is fine the team lives at the compound together” vibe and setting this post tfatws, but ultimately decided the former was easier to write. and i think it worked in my favor because this turned out really cute :)

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.

who’s idea was this again? wanda? tony? steve? it didn’t matter anymore. all that mattered right now was that you didn’t pass out in the elevator. a feat that was becoming more and more difficult the closer you got to your destination.

a secret santa is supposed to bring you joy, not near paralyzing anxiety.

at first, you were 100% on board with participating in a gift exchange. as much as you wanted to shower all of your teammates with presents galore, not everyone shared the same sentiment, and thus the idea of a secret santa was proposed.

excitement courses through your veins as you reach your hand into the cheap santa hat tony grabbed from god knows where in storage, with little pieces of paper containing the names of your fellow avengers. you decided to wait until you were back in the privacy of your room to open it up, afraid of any wandering eyes taking a peak. the last thing you wanted was the element of surprise to be stripped away. it was half the fun after all.

as sam pulls the last name, you quietly excuse yourself and all but rush upstairs, too eager to get in the holiday spirit and brainstorm. as soon as the door shuts behind you, you hurriedly reveal the contents of the paper.

if it’s natasha, i can get her a pair of ballet slippers. she’s been mentioning how she wants to start dancing again.

what about bruce? maybe a journal for all his ideas? he always seems to be losing sticky notes in the lab.

a million different ideas swirl around in your head, reminding you just how much joy this time of year brings. to you, there was nothing better than seeing the gleeful looks on people’s faces when they opened their gifts. the corners of your mouth turn up at the memory of your first christmas with the team. how shy and reluctant you were, afraid of going overboard. now, a few years later, you’re completely unabashed in showing just how much you care about them.

your bright smile morphs into a deep frown as you unfold the paper.

bucky barnes.

quite possibly the most difficult person you could’ve chosen.

to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with bucky. he may be a bit grumpy and standoffish, but it’s with good reason and you know it. that also doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be impossible to try and shop for.

what do you get for the man who seemingly despises anything the modern world has to offer? the same man who you’re 99% sure hates your guts. come to think of it, how did you even pull him? he most definitely wasn’t downstairs 20 minutes ago when everyone scribbled down their names and tossed them in tony’s direction.

it was irrelevant now. you were stuck being his secret santa, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give james buchanan barnes the best christmas gift he’s ever gotten in his century-long lifetime.

the two weeks it took to come up with an idea sure felt like a century. if it wasn’t for the concerning amount of snooping you did, you’d probably be showing up empty handed. thankfully, at almost 1 in the morning on a random tuesday, a lightbulb went off in your brain. you scrambled bright and early the next day to go shopping, and by some lucky form of divine intervention, you acquired the perfect gift.

flash forward to now, and you’re carrying an insanely large box up to bucky’s room. in a blatant stray from what the rest of the team was doing, you decided to give him his present one on one, secluded from everyone else. partly because you were afraid of public embarrassment if he hated it, and partly because you knew bucky wasn’t very fond of being put on display.

you hope he’ll at least be grateful for that.

when the elevator finally chimes, signaling you’ve arrived at the dormitory floor, the box nearly slips from your grasp. not just from how heavy it was, but from the nervous sweat coating your palms.

the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, save for the faint sound of christmas music playing over the speakers. with careful, calculated steps, you make your way down the length of the corridor, dragging your feet the closer you get to bucky’s room. there’s a small part of you that hopes he’s downstairs in the gym, the kitchen, the backyard, anywhere but here. dropping and dashing wasn’t what you had in mind, but the anxious thumping of your heart was becoming unbearable. you know it will only amplify tenfold if you’re forced to stare into those steel blue eyes of his. the thought alone sends a chill down your spine.

you freeze in place when you hear the sound of a door knob clicking open.

please be wanda’s room, please be wanda’s room.

in front of you, the very last door on the left creaks open, revealing the tall and brooding super soldier whose company you were aiming to avoid.

it’s easy to forget how handsome bucky barnes is when he normally does nothing but grimace in your direction.

you still weren’t used to his new haircut, but it was clear he felt significantly more confident with it. is that a hint of aftershave, or cologne? whatever it was, the scent fit him perfectly; cedarwood with a hint of spice. the green henley he wears fits snugly against his broad frame, emphasizing all the muscles you’ve been caught staring at on more than one occasion. for once, he’s not wearing a scowl, though that changes when he catches sight of you.

surely you must look strange, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall with a box covered in santa-printed wrapping paper and a big bow that you can barely hold. right now the floor opening up and swallowing you whole was at the top of your wish list. and st. nick better make it quick.

bucky’s expression shifts from one of disdain to curiosity as he quirks a brow wordlessly. your own knit together in frustration, knowing you now had no choice but to do this exchange face to face.

“need any help?” he questions monotonously. as much as you want to be prideful and reject it, your arms feel like they’re going to fall off any second. he seems to catch your drift despite a verbal response, because in the blink of an eye he’s striding towards you, sweeping the gift from your arms and into his own with ease. you try not to gape at the way his biceps strain against fabric.

you stutter out a “thanks,” as you straighten out your sweater. bucky grunts in return and eyes the package in his hands cautiously. you’re half expecting him to shake it like a child when you catch the tiniest twitch of his upper lip.

it’s the closest thing to a smile he’s ever shown in your presence. something that gives you the courage to actually form a sentence instead of continuing to gawk at him.

here goes nothing.

“this is for you, actually,” you manage to shakily breathe out. bucky halts his observations, a glimmer of surprise briefly dancing across his face.

a beat of silence passes between you. “don’t remember asking for anything," he finally says. it’s still laced with his typical dry sarcasm, but there’s a legitimate amusement in his tone that can’t be missed.

you narrow your eyes at him playfully, feeling a little bit more at ease now that he didn’t completely rebuff you.

“i’m your secret santa, smartass,” you jab with your hands on your hips.

for the first time ever, bucky smirks at you.

“don’t recall asking for that either.”

you throw your hands up in defense, offering him a surprisingly nonchalant shrug. “don’t blame me, i’m pretty sure steve was the one who put your name in.”

“punk,” the man grumbles. he shakes his head, attention turning back to the present in hand once more.

despite his apparent annoyance, you can’t seem to stop yourself from continuing on.

“i know you’re supposed to do this kind of thing with everyone around,” you start off shaky, afraid of upsetting him any more than you may already have. his gaze immediately falls to you upon hearing your voice.

“i also know you’re not a big fan of being the center of attention,” you continue, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. “figured you’d like this better if it was in private.”

bucky’s features soften. his jaw unclenched, his eyes not so narrow and judgmental. he looks relieved, flattered; a myriad of things you can’t name or place.

“i appreciate that,” he admits, suddenly shy and impish. for a second, he completely forgets about the gift you brought. the simple fact that you were kind enough to consider his feelings, despite how cold he could be to you, makes his heart skip a beat.

you simply nod your head in reply, teetering back and forth on your feet awkwardly trying to decipher your next move.

“you don’t have to open that right now you know.”

he sets the box down on the floor next to his door. “kinda defeats the purpose don’t you think?”

you shrug. “whatever you’re comfortable with. doesn’t matter what you’re “supposed to do.””

why did you care so much about his comfort level? he hardly showed any concern for yours. the notion consumes his thoughts, prohibiting him from offering anything except a nod of acknowledgement.

that awkward silence comes once again, signaling maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome, or that the moment of peace is over. you check your watch in hopes that father time was ending this exchange for you.

just your luck, he’s right on schedule.

“i uh, better get downstairs,” you announce, pointing your thumb in the direction of the elevator. “don’t wanna miss thor forcing everyone to do christmas karaoke.”

a noise akin to laughter snorts out of bucky’s nose, evoking a delightful warmth in your chest. it was different than all the other times you’ve been flustered in the presence of the super soldier. this was less about intimidation and more about…camaraderie. now wondering if maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

it’s exactly what you need to reignite your holiday cheer and shed any remaining worries.

before you can second guess, you turn on your heels, closing the gap between your bodies. wrapping a hand around his arm, his metal arm, and offering a gentle caress, the sincerity in your words is clear as day.

“merry christmas buck.”

your touch burns straight through vibranium all the way to his chest. across his entire body, igniting every cell ablaze. a fire consuming him in ways unimaginable.

and yet. he enjoyed the burn.

as you pull away, much to his dismay, the tips of his fingers brush against the inside of your wrist. goosebumps errupt on your skin, from the cool metal, or that fact that bucky was so pretty this close, only time would tell.

“you too,” he murmurs with a faint grin. the soft crinkles by his eyes are likely going to be the subject of your daydreams for the next week.

you flash him a smile over your shoulder before turning down the hall and averting his gaze, not wanting him to see just how much you were blushing.

while unbeknownst to you, bucky was now a very bright shade of red.

he waits until he can hear the elevator doors close before slipping back into his room and very carefully unwrapping the box. there’s a nervousness in his stomach that’s unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. as the bare brown packaging becomes exposed, he begins ripping back the numerous layers of packing tape. you really took your time on this, he thinks to himself.

that funny feeling only amplifies when he sees the contents of the box.

a record player, a very expensive looking one at that, sits inside with another three wrapped items that he concludes are vinyls, judging from their flatness. on top of it all, there was a small note shrouded in luxe stationary. bucky’s heart stutters when he sees his name scribbled delicately in your handwriting.

his fingers falter briefly before he digs into the envelope.

i know this isn’t like the ones from the 40s, but it’s the closest thing i could find. also got a few of your favorite records, and one i think you’ll like too. don’t forget i have quite a collection of my own in case you ever want to try something new.

merry christmas ♡

bucky unceremoniously plops down on the edge of his bed. the normally stiff feeling mattress now mirrored a sea of clouds and feathers. he’d gladly sink into the abyss of softness, if it meant pumping the brakes on his thundering heartbeat.

from the moment he met you, bucky knew he was in trouble.

you had an aura about you that was magnetic, always drawing people in and bathing them in your light. your unconditional kindness and consideration, hell, even your mere presence in a room seemed to liven it up entirely. it was a hypnotizing, almost dangerous thing for the man, and if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to push people away. for their sake, and his. bucky was certain that once he started keeping his distance, that you’d eventually give up in trying to crack his tough outer shell, or that the silly feelings he had would disappear.

but right now, as he’s staring at your handwriting and rubbing his thumb repeatedly over that little heart, he knows it was all in vain.

later that night, he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the familiar croon of it’s been a long, long time wafting from his present. he tries to focus on the beauty of the song, or the lights he can see from his window twinkling out on the lawn, but it’s nearly impossible. you’re the subject of all his thoughts. have been since the moment he saw you standing out in the hall. from the scent of your perfume to the little intricacies of your penmanship. the thing that’s plaguing him the most, however, is your hand on his arm.

bucky’s real arm had been gone for over half a century, having stopped experiencing phantom limb syndrome ages ago. yet somehow he felt it there, clear as day. the same tactile sensations on his flesh, right arm, in the metal prosthetic of his left. an electric shock that he’s never recognized before, and that he wouldn’t be opposed to feeling again.

tomorrow, he plans to thank steve for mischievously adding his name into the lottery.

and to ask you about your record collection.

thanks for reading! <3

tag list: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[seresinhangmanjake]

Different is Better

Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Javi invites your ex back with Storm Par amidst the flirtation between you and Tyler. 

Notes/Warnings: This was a combination of requests, so it's not exactly what everyone asked for, but I got it as close as I could, sp hopefully it satisfies in some ways. Allusion to smut. Cursing probably. Scott sucks (sorry to the Scott lovers), Javi sucks a little too (sorry to the Javi lovers).

Words: 2850

Tyler Owens Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

The second the Storm Par team finishes settling on the schedule for tomorrow, you remove yourself from the rest of the chasers in the parking lot, Wranglers included, and press your back into the outer wall of the motel. Perfectly out of sight and free to feel how you want without judgment.

You can’t breathe around him. You can’t think properly. And damn him for fucking loving it. Damn the smirk that slices into your skin. Damn fucking Javi for requesting his participation on the team after swearing up and down that he wouldn’t. Damn him for not warning you, forcing you to spend the last half-hour since his arrival in wild discomfort.

It had been so good without him. The best chasing you’d done in years. Relaxing, free from tension despite the chaos of rolling into the heart of unpredictable weather. In his absence, you chased with excitement; you chased with that tingly zingy feeling in your gut; you chased with a pounding heart, with hands shaky not from nerves but from raw, untainted energy shooting throughout your entire body. 

The last two months of chasing renewed your love of the craft and proved more than anything that Scott has been—and still is—a soul-sucking, life-draining leech….to you, anyway. 

But everyone already loves him, just short of instantly obsessed with him, especially the females of the group who neglect that ‘award-winning’ personality he’s managed to display in only thirty-two minutes. Shamefully, it almost makes you wish the team Javi assembled had fewer young college girls and a heck of a lot more mature, determined women. They would easily see past his looks and recognize that his intelligence does not surpass that of anyone else on the team. He is not some rare, fascinating, genius savior who has come to solve all of the data-collecting problems the team’s been having; he’s just an extra helping hand that, frankly, you firmly believe you don’t need. 

But no…as has been the case each time you’ve worked together since you ended your little college fling—or whatever the fuck it was—he gets to be Mr. Perfect, and you’re stuck as the angsty bitch who whines over him being here. 

“So…that’s the guy, huh?” Tyler asks as he rounds the corner and joins you under the cover of near-darkness. 

He practically shines under the damaged streetlamp’s thin, flickering light. You’re not looking at him, but you don’t have to be to see that much clearly. He glows in your peripherals, and with another step closer to you, your heartbeat stumbles within your ribcage. 

Tyler is the one thing you credit for reviving you. What started as a less-than-friendly rivalry changed when you accepted a challenge to chase with his crew one day, and though Javi was displeased, you were too curious about Tyler’s methods to turn him down. 

With one ride in his truck, the spark you thought had long died reignited. Now you have a respect for Tyler that the rest of your team does not. Respect…and a bit more. 

Though you would never abandon your team, you became increasingly hooked on the idea of chasing with Tyler again, and it was so stupidly obvious. And with that obviousness, an unspoken essence of sorts developed between you. A forbidden attraction you’re both aware of but have yet to fully act on, though not for lack of trying.

You take turns almost breaking that final barrier—heavy breathing, noses nearly brushing, lips a hairs-width away from connecting, but something always gets in the way: his team, yours, the weather. But not this time. Cock-block of the day? Scott Miller. 

Tyler’s eyes stay on your cheek as he stuffs his hands into his front jean’s pockets. “I didn’t know that was your type.”

When you look at Tyler, your brows knit at the disappointment on his face. He offers a smile, but it’s far less convincing than what he is capable of, like he didn’t even bother trying to give you one of his good ones. And you’ve seen a good smile from Tyler Owens. It can knock anyone off their feet. 

“It isn’t,” you tell him as you turn your attention back to the miles of grass in front of you. At night, under such little light, the eye gets tricked and the blades blend into a vast span of blackness, like a giant hole in the ground just a few feet away. One you might consider jumping into it if you could. 

“I mean, it was,” you continue, ��but not anymore.”

He nods. “You have to work close with him?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.

“Unfortunately.”

Tyler blows out a breath. His hand runs through his hair before his head falls back against the brick wall of the motel, eyes closed and chin tilted toward the night sky. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

“Yea.”

Cicadas fill the following silence. Lightning bugs sprinkle throughout the space around you, thriving in the intense humidity that adds a thin sheen to your skin. You can see him thinking. Questioning. His fingers tap against his clothed thigh and your stomach clenches with dread. The last thing you want—the thing that would crush you—is Tyler sizing up whether or not you are worth the trouble of an ex even cockier than he is and more arrogant than you once believed him to be. One thing Tyler and Scott have in common: the adoring attention from young women. You’ve heard the stories from Lilly and Boone, and at any point, Tyler could tip his hat in adieu and return to his many fans to seek the encounters you’ve been hoping to share with him.  

Tyler turns his head to you. “You still like him? At all?”

“No,” you answer, trying not to be offended by the question he has a right to ask. To you, it’s absurd, insulting. To him, it’s covering his bases and understanding what, if anything, he is getting in between by pursuing you, or considering pursuing you. “The way he approaches relationships mimics the way he approaches chasing,” you continue. “Controlling, nit-picky, demanding. I couldn't stand it.” He’s nothing like you, you want to say, but for some reason, don’t.

Your heart’s discomfort eases with the slow spread of a smile across his face. You step toward him. “Look, Tyler, I know we haven’t really talked about us, but I–”

“There you are. I was starting to think I ran you off.”

The intruding voice snatches your attention and Tyler immediately pushes off the wall, positioning himself closer to your side. “I'm not sure you're threatening enough for that,” he says. 

Scott smirks, one eyebrow arching. “And you are?”

“Tyler,” he says, reaching out his hand in a play-nice gesture. “Owens.”

Realization dawns on Scott. “Oh, of course,” he replies, a mocking grin forming as he accepts the handshake. When he takes his hand back, he crosses his arms and cocks his head to the side. “Your reputation precedes you. How many followers have you managed to stack up by playing around for entertainment?”

“Subscribers,” Tyler corrects. “A mil.”

“Must be validating after failing to make it professionally.”

Your gut twists, fists almost clenching, but you restrain yourself from showing his effect on you. “That’s not why he does what he does,” you scold your ex sternly. Tyler’s head whips to you. You can just barely detect the gentle smile on his face. 

Scott hums, nonchalantly advancing closer to hover over you. His eyes penetrate like lasers into yours. “You know, you should really think before you fraternize. You wouldn’t want to make us look bad,” he says, running a knuckle down your cheek. You flinch away from his touch and he grins. “That’s all,” he says. “Good night, you two” And then he turns on his heel and returns from where he came. 

“Charming,” Tyler sarcastically snips. “I see the appeal.”

—

He fucking left you behind. 

You were trying to finish up his job after he failed to properly secure Javi’s tech, but as you were doing so, the tornado’s size grew and its speed picked up and it was headed right for you. Scott screamed at you, panicked in a way you’ve never heard before, but when you weren’t quick enough for his liking, he slammed your door and drove off, leaving you to looming disaster. 

If not for Tyler, you’d be dead. He spotted you in his crew’s attempt to flee, and though it was an insane risk, he came for you, leaping out of his truck and grabbing you as he yelled for Boone to take the wheel. 

He practically threw you into the back seat before crawling in after you and wrapping your shivering body in his arms.

“Tyler, man, I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to outrun it!” Boone called back, eyes darting between the blurry road in front of him and the rearview mirror. 

“Then drill us into the fucking ground!”

And that’s where you stayed, huddled together, your face in his neck as the storm tried to tear you apart. 

—

Are you out of your fucking mind!” Tyler shouts, stomping through the parking lot of the motel refuge. 

To your relief, the small, aged structure was out of the tornado's path, if just barely, and in the aftermath, the owner offered free rooms to those in need. Except for Boone, who holds you steady as Tyler storms off, the Wranglers pass out whatever shirts and food they have available, providing what comfort they can.

Javi inserts himself between Tyler and Scott, his hands up to keep Tyler back. “Woah, woah, calm down.”

“He could’ve fucking killed her!”

Javi’s concerned brow settles from shock. “W-What?” he asks. “What are you talking about?”

Tyler’s as vicious as a lion, his teeth bared, claws out as he tries to side-step Javi to get to Scott, who has backed up a step. “He left her out there!”

You can see the Adam’s apple bob in your ex’s throat. His composure is on edge. He’s never been called out before, not even by you. “She was being stupid.”

“She was doing your job!”

Scott scoffs as Javi blinks, trying to adjust to the rapid-fire information being thrown at him. He’s never been good at an onslaught of facts, needing that adjustment period for things to properly sink in. He’s careful that way. It’s his methodical mind. He takes his time with his planning, and that extends past his inventions. “Look, everyone’s safe. Everyone’s tired. Let’s just get some rest and we can deal with this tomorrow.”

“You’re letting him stay? After what he did?”

“Right now, no one has anywhere to go,” Javi explains, and though true, it doesn’t mean Scott has to remain here now that the threat is gone. Javi’s eyes dart past Tyler’s shoulder to your shaken form. He sighs an exhale that deflates his entire chest, his eyes close, and he shakes his head. He brought this on. He knows it. Scott was a mistake, and while it wasn’t Javi who put you in danger, you don’t mind him absorbing some of the guilt of what happened. “Just…take care of her.”

Tyler huffs and says, “That’s more than you people do,” before turning around and coming for you. Boone passes you off with a nod. Tyler’s arm goes around your body, his hand rubbing up and down your bicep. You wonder where he stored the rage so quickly, but you appreciate that he didn’t set any of it aside for you. After all, you’re the reason he almost died. You’re the reason his friend almost died. Just because it was not a potential consequence of your choices, the stress of near death can keep anyone on edge. But not Tyler, apparently. He has other priorities.

“Come on,” Tyler says. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” And he guides you to your room, the very same one you’ve been tempted to invite him to since your first chase together. You didn’t imagine this was how he would come to join you.

—

Tyler’s jaw slackens when you exit the bathroom in a small towel that barely covers your body, and he quickly rises from where he is sitting at the end of your mattress, wiping his palms on his jeans as if to remove the moisture collected there. His eyes go wide, but they can’t seem to meet yours, his green orbs trailing up and down your body. 

“They’re a bit short,” you tell him.

“Yea, I, uh,” His hand runs over his hair down to his neck. “I know,” he says, instantly conjuring the image of a bare Tyler, water droplets covering his skin, a measly towel wrapped around his waist held together by one hand; a hand that, if removed, would cause the towel to drop to the ratty carpeting. “Do you, um…you need anything? I can try to get you–”

“No,” you stop him. “I’m alright.” A beat passes, and then he nods and blows out a breath. “Thank you, for saving me. You didn’t have to risk yourself like that.”

His eyes find yours then. “You can’t possibly think that I wouldn’t.”

“I know you’re kinder than most. Braver than most. But you’re not stupid, and saving me was a bit–”

“Don’t say that. I’d do it again,” he says. When he steps toward you, the towel suddenly feels much smaller. You feel exposed under his gaze, but to your surprise, not embarrassed. Scott had a way of making you feel less than in what seemed like a thousand different ways, but not Tyler. His eyes marvel. “And again.”

You take a deep breath, releasing it slowly out your nose. 

“Are you still shaken up?” Tyler asks you. 

You shake your head. “Not really.”

He stops directly in front of you. “Can I finally kiss you then?”

Your lips part. The towel falls, not necessarily with intention, but you can’t hold the thing up and wrap your arms around his neck at the same time. And, right now, one is more important than the other. 

Tyler tastes like the cola from your fridge that he must’ve had while he waited for you in the shower. His teeth nibble at your bottom lip, and you open for him. His hands settle on your bare waist for what seems like all of two seconds before they’re sliding lower, squeezing flesh, and pulling you in closer. Your fingers pick at the buttons of his shirt, the first few coming free. 

“You sure about this?” is muffled out between kisses.

You pull apart just long enough to say yes before you’re kissing him again, helping him out of his clothes, and falling into bed together. 

—

A knock wakes you. You turn over under Tyler’s arm and, careful not to wake him, rise from the bed. You grab his shirt off the nearby chair and pull it over your head, then slip on some sleep shorts before heading for the door. 

Javi smiles when he sees you, a sense of relief allowing the muscles to release their tension in his body. “Hey,” he says before his eyes fall down to your—Tyler’s—shirt. He raises a brow. 

You shrug. “I like him.”

Javi clicks his tongue. A modest sign of disapproval. “Right, well…I just came by to apologize and let you know that I kicked Scott off the team. He left about an hour ago.”

You hum in acknowledgment. At least you’ll avoid the drama of your ex figuring out you ‘fraternized’ with the leader of the other team. Being storm chasers, dramatics runs through your blood, and it’s not as if Tyler would shy away from any remarks Scott may throw at him or you, but this just happens to be one issue you’d rather not waste the energy on. It’s not his business, anyway.

“Thanks, Javi.”

“I really am sorry,” he says. “I never would’ve imagined he’d–”

“I know. Me either.”

Javi sighs in the silence that follows, then he says, “You sure about Owens?”

You nod. “I’m sure about Owens.”

“I guess we can’t be on opposite sides then, can we?”

“That would be nice,” you say. Javi gives you another smile. “They’re not so bad. I mean, I know they do stuff…differently, but they don’t leave anyone behind.” When a twinge of guilt flashes across his face, you say, “It wasn’t your fault.”

You can’t tell if he believes that’s how you truly feel, but as you nod in reassurance of that statement, he nods with you. 

“Ok,” he says. 

“Ok,” you repeat, and then with one final grin, Javi disappears down the hall. 

You close the door and strip yourself of the clothes you’d thrown on to get back into bed. Tyler’s still asleep. His breathing is soft, even, comforting, and luckily, your spot beside him has maintained its warmth from where you’d been laying all night. 

“I’m sure about you, too,” he suddenly says, voice groggy and eyes remaining closed. He lifts his arm, and you tuck yourself back into his embrace. 

[justtwotired]

“Back the fuck off.”

Summary: you and Regulus recently broke up over stupid teenage reasons. It was a really bad fight and you two haven't spoken since, though both regret your actions. At a Gryffindor house party, he spots you kissing Mathew smith, the Gryffindor seeker, who Regulus absolutely despises.

Pairing: Regulus Black x Gryffindor!reader

Warnings: swearing, kissing, fighting, a bit of sexual assault.

⬇️unamused⬇️

Regulus stands at the drinks table with Barty as they are being pure Slytherins looking around with judging and cold looks. Neither of them wanted to come to said party, but Evan -who was currently participating in a round of beer pong- insisted they went.

His eyes travel the crowd and he spots them, making him narrow his eyes. He knew she was doing it to spite him, he knew even she hated Smith, but there she was, sticking her tongue down his throat.

"Ohh, she is playing with fire." Barty seemed to start enjoying the party the moment he followed Regulus gaze. "Shut the hell up." Regulus head snapped towards him and then his eyes traveled back to the girl and that stupid idiot she was kissing.

His hands where slowly starting to roam under her clothes and that's when he couldn't take it anymore and pushed himself of the table making his way towards them.

- 15 minutes earlier -

"They are absolute morons." Y/n shook her head as she watched Sirius and James jump of the table they'd just been dancing on. "Tell me about it." Remus rolled his eyes.

She took a sip of her drink as she watched the boys make their way over to them. "Oh, their coming pretend you don't know them." Peter said and they all quickly avoided eye contact with the two boys. "Oh haha, you're so funny." Sirius said sarcastically.

His eyes fell on Y/n and they narrowed. "Boring again, I see." He said as he eyed the glass with clear liquid in her hands. "But thinking about it, I could use some water," he took it out of her hands and a horrified expression formed on her face.

"Sirius no wait-" but she was to late and he took a sip and moments later spit it out, coughing. "Y/n, you absolutely menace to society." He said handing the glass back to her.

"Are you alright, pads?" James asked laughing. "I am, but she isn't, what psychopath just casually sips straight vodka." He grimaces and James' eyebrows race.

"What? It's good, you're all just over dramatic." She said taking another sip, making Peter chuckle a bit, as he himself had made that same mistake before.

They all looked up at the sound of the portrait swinging open and watched an excited Evan and annoyed Barty and Regulus walk into the common room.

Y/n rolled her eyes, and then they landed on someone and a smirk formed onto her face. "Y/n, no." Remus said and she looked at him. "What do you mean no?" She asked.

"Regulus just walked in and your wearing that smirk? Whatever your planning, no." He said and she rolled her eyes and giggled. "It's just a bit of fun." She said, standing up to leave the couch and pushing the glass into Sirius' hands.

"Here, you can have that." She says and he looks at it in disgust. "No thanks." And puts it down.

"Smith, hey." She greats the seeker and he turned to her. "Y/n, looking ravishing as always." He said with a shit eating grin as he looked her up and down and stopped at her chest.

She would slap him in the face if it wasn't for her plan just unfolding:

Make Regulus as jealous as possible.

"I can say the same about you." She said, her words slightly slurring. Smith took a step closer, snaking an arm around her waist. Everyone in Hogwarts who had a brain knew he had liked her since fourth year, which was one of the reasons Regulus despised him, but also the other way around.

Everyone in Hogwarts with a brain also knew Smith was an actual, selfish, prick. He had a reputation of cheating, one girl even claimed he had cornered her once, but no one knew if it was true, as she had a reputation of lying.

"I heard your single now." He grinned as he pulled her closer, his breath smelled like alcohol. "It was such a shame you where with... him." He sounded disgusted at the last words.

She let out a sarcastic laugh, starting to maybe regret her decision a little bit... but only a little.

"Well, that's over now... sooo." She trailed her finger passed his white button up. She looked up at him and he smashed his lips against hers, she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

Her eyes fluttered open to look around the room and they landed on Regulus who wasn't looking at her as his eyes traveled around the room, but she could see them slowly make their way over to them and she closed her eyes again as Smith tongue slipped into her mouth.

They broke apart for a moment before they kissed again and slowly his hands started to travel, one slipping into her skirt and the other under her top.

His lips detached from hers and made their way to her neck and then he whispered in her ears. "Seeing such a beautiful girl like you with a Slytherin. Tsk, I'll show you what it's like to be with a real guy." He whispered before going back to kissing her neck and his hand suddenly slipped into her panty's.

She was taken by surprise but before she could do anything about it, someone else did.

Regulus had made his way trough the crowd, pushing people aside and watching as Smith went further into her skirt and kissing her neck, it made his blood boil.

"Back the fuck off." He said and Smith looked up and grinned, taking his hand out of her skirt, and Regulus almost thought she looked relieved.

They made eyes contact and he narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you want." She said, obviously with alcohol in her system. "Indeed, what do you want?" Smith asked as he put and arm around her waste and his finger tips rested under the band of her skirt.

"I want you, to get your filthy hands of her." Regulus said with a threatening tone. "And why would I do that? Such a pretty girl, and she isn't yours anymore? I wouldn't even have cared is she still was, I had plans anyway." He laughed dryly and Y/n looked rather horrified as she questioned if that would have been against her will.

"Leave her alone." Regulus demanded and Smith smirked. "And why would I do that, she seemed to be rather enjoying me."

Suddenly, Y/n started to really regret her decision, and grabbed his wrist to stop him from going any further. "What is it baby, you don't like it?" He asked and she sighed and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Stop, I want you to stop." She told him and he huffed. "You don't tell me when to stop." He said and pulled the hand on his wrist away with his other hand.

She knew she had gotten herself in this situation, it was her own fault, but now she really wanted to get out. Suddenly he let go of her and Y/n hadn't processed the sickening crack.

Regulus had punched him right in the nose and blood was rapidly streaming out. His grey eyes fell on Y/n who stared shocked.

He grabbed her arm and then dragged her out of the common room and eventually stopped in a hallway.

"What is wrong with you?" He asked angrily. "Do you know how much worse that could have been?" He asked, he was furious as he turned his back to her.

"Honestly, Y/n that was such a stupid move! And for what? Making me jealous? Well it worked, happy now?" He turned to her as he yelled, but stopped as he watched her.

Her hands where shaking and tears streamed down her face. His features softened as he walked towards her and took her hands in his, placing a soft kiss on each of them.

"It's alright." He whispered to her and she shook her head. "No, no it's not, I'm so sorry, it was a stupid move. I didn't think it trough." She said as more tears streamed down her face and she sniffed as her nose was now full and starting to run.

He wiped away the tears with his sleeve and kissed her on the forehead. "It's alright, Ma Cherie." He whispered as he hugged her. "Come, you need to get some sleep." He said and then led her over to the Slytherin dorms.

She was sitting on his bed as Regulus took a T-shirt and sweatpants out of his closet. He hands rested on her top and then looked at her. "May I help you here?" He asked and she nodded.

"Use your words, darling." He said softly, he always requested she used words when asking for her permission to do things like this, as he didn't want her to regret later.

"Yes." She croaked out and he slowly lifted it over her head and helped her pull the clean shirt over her head. He did the same with the pants and then tucked her into his bed.

He changed out of his clothes to, and joined her, pulling her into him and kissing her forehead. "I love you, my little dove." He said and she murmured something along the lines of "I love you too." Back before falling asleep.

[chishiyasbiscuits]

simon says! || chishiya x reader xo

[3.8k words.]

[Warning: Smut, your casual riding, very casual. No extra kinks, I don't believe? Any extra warnings, do inform, please, and thank you!]

[This is a long one to initiate my return. I'm proud of this one, and excited to share, I haven't written with Chishiya in a year, and I'm hoping my literary skills have increased. Please do enjoy. Lots of love xo]

Why did we, as humans, feel the need to consume the earth? Why do most believe our calloused fingertips were created to grip, and clutch, and control. Why are some of us prone to obeying, and others, not?

Niragi shifts his shoulder, and the rifle brushes the clothed skin of his bicep. His brows furrow, and knit with a wire of concern, but mainly, uncertainty.

Niragi orders, and he instructs. He would never follow. He's higher on the ladder of obedience, consuming all beneath him. He hitches, and tenses. "What the hell is this?" He curses. There's an unattractive scowl upon his parted lips.

Chishiya lowers his head, repressing his smirk. He was knowingly aware, all of the time, and it had frustrated me. How it must feel to never be caught off-guard?

The screens were lightening, and the words scrawled along them began to flicker. It was no longer a matter of seconds, the game was beginning, and now. Kuina neared me, her shoulder couldn't have brushed mine. She was at least a head taller than me, and I had to tilt my chin to catch the way her unlit cigarette had pressed, cautiously, along her pursed lips. She was focused, but unsure. The air had thickened with an unfamiliar silence.

Her eyes darkened. I stole a glance toward Arisu, and Usagi. Theirs had too. Arisu was thinking, hard. The cogs spurring before a game had even been established.

"Game title." The female voice was mechanical, as always. "Simon Says." Completely devoid of emotion, monochromatic sentences strung across the screen. "Rules." She began. I could hear the spur of breaths, deepening, quickening. Some slowing, others hitching. Others ceasing, as if they had mentally pulled the plug on themselves. Kuina was stagnant. Her fingertips pressed along the faux cigarette, and she rolled her thumb, and forefinger patiently. She had barely brought her lashes down into a blink. Niragi was unamused. I could only infer what he had been doing before the speakers had begun. Flashes of static had rounded the sheep of the beach. The population all eyes, and ears. Excitement, and uncertain fear.

Chishiya's lips had rose smoothly. I swallowed drily, in return. It was almost frightening how nonchalantly he slid his fisted palms into his pockets, and rested his clothed spine, and head along a nearby pillar. His chest lifted, and fell softly. There wasn't a sign of distress, or anxiety, not within his stance, or the light flecks within his searching eyes.

"To pass this game, one must obey the screen's orders. Each specified amount of minutes, the screen will have a new rule for the participants to follow. Failure to do so will result in the player being disqualified."

I had audibly released a long-held sigh. My shoulders relaxed, softly slumping. It wasn't so bad. Obey, really, and that's all. The only hint of difficulty would be for the lions, and tigers of this food chain. Niragi, I hummed, Aguni, too.

"The first rule will be displayed shortly."

The screen flickered. I wrapped my arms over my waist, my fingertips digging, deep, into the dents of my ribs, and leaving reddened, crescent-shaped marks. Chishiya was eyeing me, curiously, but I had refused to give in, and lock eyes. I swallowed, again, and strained my stare, until my irises burnt, and stung, as if there were rogue flames flittering from the screens.

"Simon Says, make the area around you empty of participants."

The silence faltered, and fragmented quickly. Shattering, as if our focus was a china plate, and the screen was a rampant bull. "What does that even mean?" Someone called to her peers. "You have five minutes to follow this rule."

She shrieked, lightly. Her eyes wide, and doe, like an animal in brightened headlights. She stilled, and the man beside her clasped her shoulder, and shook her. "What does it mean?" He was both frustrated, and urgent. Spit coating his chapped lips.

"It means you're all dead, fuckers!" Niragi snorted, raising his rifle from his shoulder, and aiming the tip toward the ceiling. He shot once, and then twice, until his prey had begun to scatter, and shuffle about each other like pigeons rushing from a nearing car. He slung the weapon forward, and took aim. Ruthlessly letting the sharp tips of his bullets become blood-stained, as they embedded themselves into the bare flesh of his victims.

I cursed beneath my quickening breath. Niragi had knocked at least twelve residents to the floor, and the remaining participants had either fled, or had begun slaughtering those surrounding them, as Niragi had implied would be the meaning attached to the rule.

Kuina was long-gone. Arisu, and Usagi, and Chishiya, too. I thought deeply, and began to raise my pace. I neared a pillar, and rounded it cautiously. Slipping through entwined bodies, pushing past the shoulders of injured players. Sweat, and blood, and possibly tears had coated the skin of my palms. I winced. Brushing them along the lower cloth of my swimsuit. I was inside, now, and the screams had been muffled by thick, concrete walls. They faded, softly, yet not so softly. It was eerily quiet, and desolate, as my aching soles brushed the carpet beneath me. I slowed to a still. Stagnant. Chasing after my own, spent breath.

"Time is up." The voice radiated, like heat, throughout the architecture. I dared soften my features, and the tensing muscles of my calves. I leant along a wall, the plaster chipped, and leaving eggshell pieces against the small of my back. "Congratulations, to those who have survived."

I had figured, really, quite early on, that the rule was simple. The corridor was empty, and I was safe. Easy. These games had always urged for violence, through leading the participants in a false direction, but those who knew, knew that these types were often overcome easily, with no need for death. The remaining participants had conformed, wrongly.

"Your next rule: Simon Says, engage in sexual intercourse with the first person you see. You have ten minutes to find a partner. Failure to do so, and failure to begin initiating sexual intercourse within this time limit will lead to your disqualification."

My brows arched, and my features had become sharp, and thinly layered with sweat. It was an odd rule for this game, and for any game, really, but I had no time to ponder. I had to obey, whether it stretched my moral grounds, or my boundaries. I had to live, and dying for the reason of not wanting to have sex would be an embarrassing way out.

I sighed, and began to walk. Slowly, at first, as if I were hesitant. I picked at my cuticles, and lightly chewed my lower lip, as I searched the upper floor. I was both curious, and afraid of who I may come across first, and had pleaded, with all the strength my limbs could give, that it wouldn't be Niragi. I wasn't sure if I did, truly, have someone in mind. Out of the residents here, who would I fuck? That's an outrageous question to think over. My vision was blurred, and my head fogged. I couldn't begin to think, even if I had wanted to.

"Interesting."

"What?" I inhaled, sharply. My lungs felt as though they were two sizes too small for the oxygen I needed to consume. I winced at the ache, and turned, cautiously, on the heel of my foot.

"Chishiya?" I swallowed a breath. I searched him, traced his features, and scanned up, and down his stance. He perked a brow. His smirk was soft, but smug. His head fell, ever so slightly, to the side as he spoke. "What a nice surprise, hm?"

He was quiet, but amused. Repressing the urge to chuckle through his nostrils. His palms were hidden, comforted by thick cotton. He blinked, slowly, peering at me through his thick, dark lashes.

My limbs were red-hot, and pulsing. My stomach knotted, over, and over, and then wringed itself out like a dirty, damp dishcloth.

"Do you want us both to die?" He questioned, after a few seconds of silence. I swallowed, and shook my head, quietly. "Why would I? That's silly."

His lip quirked higher. "What's truly silly is that you're wasting time, when you could be having sex with me."

He was smug with the reaction. My cheeks heating. Tinted a faded red. My lips parted, only for silence to ensue. I was stilled. Thoroughly shaken by his careless words. Lazy, but sexual. Chishiya was never sexual. My heart quickened its pace, beating roughly against my ribs. They felt as though they were closing in, and shrinking. Squeezing my organs, tightly.

He clicked the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and neared me. His hands still encased within the cloth of his pockets. I remained stagnant, until his shoulder met mine. They brushed, and his head dipped low. The stray strands of his hair, that had fell from within his hood, were feathery, and light along my jaw. His breath was warm. Gentle across my cheek, and the shell of my red-tinted ear. "Would you rather me initiate?"

I'm certain he was well aware of the answer. He was toying with me, though. Urging the return from between my lips. My lower stomach tightened. He hummed, questioningly. My knees had threatened to buckle, lightly shaking, as I ran my tongue along my lips. He wanted to see how far he could push me, taunt me, tease me. "If you're really so desperate, Chishiya?" I smiled, coyly, tilting my chin upward, and twisted to the side. My eyes met his, irises dilating beneath my lashes. His smirk had only become more enticing. Stretched softly across his cheeks. His eyes were lazily flickering between mine. Searching, searching. He was amused, his utmost interest had been piqued.

"Didn't think you'd like this sort of thing, Chishiya." His name rolled alluringly from the tip of my tongue. His brow twitched. "Hm. Is that so?" He dragged. "What made you think such a thing, Y/n?" He returned, within the same manner. My name a low, tempting whisper. I watched his full lips form the sentences, absent-mindedly wetting my own. He was following me, carefully. Matching the behaviour I had allowed him to see.

He tilted forward, ever so slightly, his lips parting. It was subtle. My jaw ticked. "Let's take this somewhere private. I'd much prefer if we weren't interrupted."

For a second, I was expecting him to kiss me, and I'm sure he had read the belief, as if I were an open book. He smirked harder, if that could have been possible. "We can't waste time kissing, unfortunately." He watched me, closely. His stare hardening. The words had left his lips so sincerely, I couldn't help but startle, and choke on the breath I had been gathering. "We have five minutes, and I have to be inside of you for the initiation to count."

Was this truly happening? My brain was static. He raised a palm, and waved it, side to side, before my blank expression. "Have you turned off?" He teased. "I was hoping for the opposite."

"No, no." I shook my head, and swallowed. Straightening my spine, and composing myself. This is life or death, Y/n.

We were quick, or as quick as Chishiya could be. He was nonchalant, too careless to truly be affected by the entire premise of this sex, and violence fuelled game. I was nervous, on the other end. Cursing at myself for not having had any liquid courage before the screens had fell. I was itching at my wrist, and making the bones within my fingers click. Trailing the tip of my tongue along my inner cheek, and chewing on the skin of my lower lip.

He was beneath me now; on the bed of a resident, I could only assume had been slaughtered. His head was leant along the wooden bedframe, his upper body was propped up, by his clothed elbows being buried within the mattress. His fingers raised, and wrapped lightly around the rim of his hood. His chin dipped, and then raised, as the cloth fell along his tousled hair. "Do you want to stop, now?" He questioned, as he watched me, still, rested on his hips. My thighs either side of him, caging his clothed pelvis. "No, I want you." I returned, confidently. My breath faltered, when his brow had flickered upward. "I never asked if you had wanted me, Y/n." He was being cocky, now. Smirk edging along his lips, silently. His features were soft, no sharpened lines, or angles. He was gorgeous beneath this dim light. Eyes dark, and lidded, lips wet, and full. Beneath me.

I smiled, smugly. "Don't be cocky, Chishiya." He sent me an amused look. "Didn't think you were the type to be a pillow prince." I teased, regaining myself. I shuffled forward, pressing my heat down, between his parted legs. He hadn't reacted, though the muscles within his thighs had tensed. His head fell softly, with a light thump. "Ah, you're switching the subject, Y/n."

His palms were fished from his pockets, half-heartedly, and hung themself over the skin of my hips, like loose cloth. His grip wasn't tight. His fingertips feathery, as he rolled his thumb across the exposed flesh, dipping beneath the thin fabric of the swimsuit.

"Just ride me." He spoke, far from affected by the lewd sexuality of his request. The words should have been desperate, but he had uttered them so listlessly. He was languid, as he squeezed my upper thigh with his cupped palms, pulling the thin strip of fabric from my hips with his curled fingers.

I bucked forward, subtly. Pushing my clothed, aching clit along the slowly forming bulge. I could feel it, now. His cock, beneath his swim shorts, pulsing beneath me. It was heated, where I was settled on his crotch. His shorts had been filled well, tightening each time I had slid my hips forward, teasingly.

I raised myself, and he slid the remaining cloth down my thigh, gently brushing them as he did so. He squeezed, lightly, cupping the thick flesh. I could see his bulge, now. The outline. My breath hitched, clit swollen, and desperate. He knew, of course he knew. He was smug with what he had done to me. He smiled, in a self-satisfied way.

He watched me, carefully, eyes never threatening to leave my own, as he led his palm beneath his shorts, and held himself. His grip tightened, and then he pulled himself from beneath the cloth. He was watching curiously, now, smirk stretching. He wanted to see my features contort. Wanted to see how I had reacted to his cock, hardening further, in his hand. He was above average, only slightly, but enough for the saliva to build within my cheeks, and my tongue. I swallowed, as if his cock was already stuffing my jaws, and his cum was dripping down my throat. I shamelessly clenched around the thin air, resisting the urge to buck forward, and violate the oxygen particles surrounding us.

"You're not hiding much, Y/n." He speaks, lowly, lifting his cupped palm, excruciatingly slow along his shaft. The tip of his thumb pressed along his slit, and rolled softly, collecting the loose drips of pre-cum. "You really do want me, don't you?"

My eyes drop, unable to hold his stern, yet taunting stare. He sighs, exhales, quietly. "Don't just watch me."

He drops his arm, and his empty fingers find solitude within his pockets, once more. His cock is standing, and curved toward his abdomen. Neglected, yet prepared to be buried deep inside of you. Chishiya watched, blinking slowly. Lethargically. Of course, he isn't the type to take the majority of the action. I push a breathy whimper down the tightening confines of my throat, as he holds the base of his cock with one palm, and steadies himself. Allowing me to sink onto his cock, his swollen, leaking tip spreading me wide, and then wider, as I had sunk further down his shaft.

He was stretching me. Stagnant, his hips remained low. It ached, and stung, yet the displeasure was temporary. I was quickly reminded of how deep the man beneath me was, inside of me. His cock sucked, tight, between my walls. I clenched, and he twitched. I could only imagine his fists were balling up within his pockets. My own, were clutching the fabric of his hoodie between my fingertips. He smirked, knowingly. "This isn't about the game, is it, Y/n?" He questioned, softly, watching lazily, as I had begun lifting, and dropping myself down on him.

"What." I breathed, shakily. My clutch tightened. His cock slid, so effortlessly, plunging back inside of me, each time I had sunk down, after lingering with his tip between my folds. It was an attempt to tease him. Drag a whimper from between his cockily parted, dampened lips.

"It's not about the life, or death here." He expanded, searching me, with a glint of pride within his darkened irises. "The way you're using me to satisfy you so desperately. It's genuine."

I scoff, with the little breath I had within my expanding, and shrinking lungs. My chest heaved, with each bounce. "You think I want to fuck you?"

He was quiet, but had a knowing look across his features.

"No, no. I'm doing this so I don't die." I argue between ragged breaths. It was difficult to think straight, and to reply coherently, when he was stuffing me so well. So, so full. He pulsed inside of me, my walls tightening around his cock as he dipped, in, and out, in, and out. My lower lip slid between my teeth. My eyes rolling beneath my eyelids.

Chishiya smirked to himself, tilting his chin backward, as his blinking faltered, and his lashes fluttered. He raised his hips upward, in a way, as if he were repositioning himself. No moan, no whimper, no grunt, or groan. If you had listened closely, you could hear his breath pick up pace, but that was all. The exposed part of his smooth chest raised, softly. Falling, quickly. The zipper struggled against his expanding lungs, and dipped downward, revealing his chest, even more.

He was so unbothered, even as he had me slamming down on his balls, sucking his entire cock between my plush, clenching walls. I dropped harder, and faster, drawing a slight breath from between his lips. Relieved, and satisfied. His dampened palms left his pockets, and drew softly, up, and down the heated skin of my waist. I hummed, biting back a surfacing moan.

He sighed. "I saw you walk upstairs, and into the third corridor, before the second rule had begun." He was watching me, contentedly, as if were expecting something from me. A reaction, or an answer. My brain was misted, and fogged, like the windows would surely be if we were in a car, right now.

I furrowed my brows, a sensation circling my lower stomach, like a sneeze preparing on the tip of my tongue.

"You..." I swallowed. "You knew where I was?"

He lowered his head, a lethargic nod. He was smirking, still, and searching me, expectantly.

"S...so..." I stammered, racking the mess of my brain, like my IQ had been rearranged, just as my guts were being. I was almost slurring, his cock drawing a drunk effect on my mind.

He didn't correct me, or urge me, or return. He simply laid back, thumbs tracing the dips within my hip. Gladly appreciating the heat, and pleasure I had given him. His eyes had dipped, for the first time tonight, lightly flittering over the outline of his cock in my lower stomach. Pride.

I was left to infer. He had known where I was, before the second rule had begun. He had bumped into me, or had he? Had he found me, knowingly. My eyes lit, and caught his gaze, once more. My lips parted. His lips rose.

He wanted to find me.

"You wanted to find me?" I questioned, falteringly. The ball in my stomach was knotting tighter, and was prepared to be undone. He lifted himself, once, twice. Effortless. Angling himself, so that the tip of his cock had pressed the deepest it had been, brushing my g-spot. Teasing an orgasm with each listless stroke. He was breathing harder, now, head brushing the wooden frame, and focused, entirely on drawing an orgasm from deep inside of me. I was slack-jawed, muscles tensing. My eyes were lured to the back of my head. His hair was messy, his lips parted, his eyes half-lidded. Cheeks a faded red, the smooth expanse of his revealed chest shiny with a thin sheen of sweat.

The air was thick with tension, but quiet, bar the breathing, the soft whimpers, low groans, and slapping, dampened skin.

"Chish...Chishiya." I moaned, loudly. Eyes screwing shut, as the ball in my stomach loosened, and each, and every muscle and limb I had possessed tensed, and pulsed with rushing blood. My walls squeezed the girth of his cock, as he slid back inside of me, luring a deep, breathy groan from the man beneath me. His eyes closed, and his brows furrowed sharply, his lips parting, yet his jaw was loose. He even looked calm, and unaffected during his orgasm.

I watched in awe, breathless. Unable to string any two words together, but I was certain he was able to. He swallowed, eyes drifting to the far corner, before tracing my features. "I found you, on purpose." He spoke. No stutter, or stammer, or slur. I blinked. My lips still parted; I was sure to be catching flies.

He inhaled, and exhaled, accordingly. "You were the first person I could think of that I wouldn't have minded doing this with." His head had fallen to the side, his hair dropping to frame his jaw. He smirked. "Thanks, I guess?" I answered, uncertainly. I wasn't too sure whether he had just complimented me, or not.

He chuckled breathily, through his nostrils, chest jerking. "You can get off now."

"Oh...oh, right, yeah." I blinked back my daze, and lifted myself from his half-hard cock, and dropped myself, gently, beside him. The covers were pleasingly cool, in contrast to Chishiya's warm crotch, though I wouldn't have minded being above him longer.

He glanced at me knowingly. Reading me, as if there were printed black letters across my forehead.

If we survive this game, this won't be the last time he finds me above him. I know that, and he does, too. Almost, as if he yearns for it, just as much as I do.  

[satoruxx]

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader summary: toji being a grinch lmao, grumpy x sunshine again, fluff, bickering rheya’s note: man i bet toji pretends to hate decorating for christmas but does it anyway bc he can’t say no to you! UGH he makes me !! i couldn’t stop thinking about bf!toji so here’s this silly little drabble. merry christmas everyone <33

“you serious?”

“yup.”

toji crosses his arms with a scowl, and you mirror his stance with narrowed eyes.

“it’s stupid,” he grunts, reaching out to gently push his palm against your forehead—which earns him a dramatic groan.

“it is not.” you grab his bicep and he lets you drag him over to the tree you’ve set up in the living room. “don’t be an ass.”

he sighs as you place a floppy santa hat on his head and beam at his disgruntled expression. there’s an identical one on you—sliding off your head in all your excitement, and toji has to stop himself from fixing it for you.

you crouch down and throw open a few storage boxes before gesturing somewhat emphatically. “get to work!”

he grumbles, shaking his head even as he goes to pick up a few ornaments. “you’re ridiculous.”

“not very christmas-y of you, toji,” you comment, standing on your toes to hook an ornament. he snorts, eyeing the glitter sticking to his fingertips.

“oh no—i’m the spitting image of joy, can’t you tell?” he replies sarcastically, though his shoulders relax a little as he hears your unfiltered laughter.

toji glances at you, watching as you quietly hum some old christmas song under your breath while filling up the tree with colorful orbs. he’s not sure why you’re so intent on having him be a part of your yearly holiday traditions—he’s never been big on celebrating anyway.

but then he remembers what you had said last year.

“i don’t wanna celebrate anything if you’re not celebrating it with me.”

you’ve always been too good to him.

you scoot a little closer, decorating without a care in the world and toji lets out a quiet breath—decides to be a little annoying because it’s a surefire way to make you smile.

“you mind?” he frowns, huffing with a dramatic sneer. he pins you with a pointed glare before motioning to the tree. “you’re getting in my territory.”

you throw him an appalled look before moving your arm in his face childishly. “what are you gonna do about it?”

an evil smirk makes its way onto his face, and your expression immediately drops. “wait no—“

toji’s bicep curls around your throat, pulling you into a headlock as you squeal and slap at his arm. he spends the next few minutes playfully wrestling with you before finally letting you win and step into his space—stands behind you and watches your fingers gently place ornaments while his hand absentmindedly rubs over your hipbone.

“what do you want for christmas anyway?” you ask offhandedly. toji raises a brow, looking down at you—expressionless.

“thought it was obvious—“ he shrugs, reaching up to hang ornaments on the higher parts of the tree. “all you gotta do is sit under the tree for me and i’ll be happy. bonus points if there’s unwrapping involved.”

you make an expression that has no business looking that scandalized and toji smirks in amusement.

“psycho,” you mutter, shaking your head in mock disapproval—earning a muted chuckle in return. you go back to hanging up ornaments, once again humming to yourself, and toji takes it as a cue to continue decorating. the two of you work in relative silence—an occasional quip or jab the only disturbance. after a while, he crosses his arms.

“are we done yet?” he groans, eyeing the nearly full tree. “i’m tired as fuck.”

“weak,” you grin, though you reach out and pat his chest thankfully. “but you did participate and that’s all i wanted so, yeah, you can be done.”

toji almost laughs in relief, but then he sees you rummage through the boxes and pull out more decorations for the rest of the house, and he sighs.

“alright hand it over,” he grumbles, holding his palm out expectantly. you look at him—half confused and half surprised.

“i thought you were done?”

“yeah right,” he huffs, taking the tinsel from your hands and walking over to the staircase. “you’d end up tangled in this crap if i left you alone with it.”

“you’re so dramatic. and whiny,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes.

“am not.”

despite saying so he quietly huffs as he continues to help you decorate the house with stockings and tinsel and all that other festive stuff.

by the time the house is fully decorated, toji is close to banning the holiday season—grumpy, tired, and ready to move onto something else.

but then, the tiniest part of him is uncharacteristically giddy when you look up at him, holding the star in your hands. toji shakes his head, trying to bite back the amused grin tickling his scarred lips, before sighing and crossing his arms.

“can i help you?” he asks—teasing, though his expression betrays nothing.

you pout, holding the star up dramatically. “the star needs to be put up.”

a smirk graces his face and his tone becomes taunting, yet the affection is not lost on you. “yeah? need a boost, kid?”

even before you nod, toji is crouching in front of you, palms reaching out to guide your legs over his shoulders. you laugh as he stands back up, taking a few steps towards the tree.

he can’t help but chuckle as he watches you lean forward, palm smoothing over your thigh in attempts to stabilize you. “you got it?”

“almost.” he can hear the strain in your voice, can feel the way your fingers twitch against his jaw—but he waits patiently.

“okay got it!” your voice is triumphant, and toji grins to himself.

“attagirl.” his lips brush against your inner thigh—a sweet reward for a job well done. he hears your quiet giggle from above him as you gently push away his dark bangs.

“alright, put me down now,” you huff, and toji bites back a scoff.

“tsk.” he clicks his tongue, though he still lowers himself to let you hop off his shoulders before rising to his full height. “so ungrateful.”

“what do you want, a medal?”

you yelp as toji’s fingers pinch at your side in retaliation. “watch your mouth, kid.”

you flash him a grin full of mischief, though you don’t say anything else. instead you look up at the finished tree, marveling at your handiwork with pride.

“see—” you say with a pointed grin. “—isn’t it pretty?”

toji chuckles, wrapping a heavy bicep around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. “yeah,” he agrees, green eyes trained on your happy little smile. “it is.”

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: another installment of the mini tik tok series! this one was fun and aggressively smutty lol. i’ve been having fun with the tik tok fics and there’s so much more i want to work on this summer (which lol can’t believe it’s august 🙈) enjoy! 🤍

word count: 3.5k

tw: dirty talk, unprotected sex, fingering (f recieving), cum play, semi-tit job, brief oral (m recieving), semi-public sex

summary: mat comes home from golf to find you set up for another tik tok video, much to his surprise and excitement

You tap lazily over to the Find My Friends app, searching for Mat’s little circle on the map. He’s smack in the middle of the green blob that represents the Glen Oaks Club, right next to Bo’s little circle too.

Sharing locations with half the team is wild, but was absolutely a necessity after last year’s summer trip to Italy where half the guys had gotten lost during a vineyard tour, drunkenly singing a bastardized version of ‘New York, New York’ when they’d been found.

Since then, it’s been location sharing city for your little group.

It’s especially useful when Mat’s at the golf course and you want to have an idea of when he’s on his way home. Today, you’re letting him have his time on the course since training camp opens in two days and soon he’ll be in full hockey mode. But you do have a little fun planned, a Tik Tok trend that you’d seen earlier in the summer and have been waiting to test out on Mat. He’s a good sport about joining in your videos - between you and Liana, he’s used to being used as an unwilling participant in your videos and likes making random cameos. And this video is more for his benefit than yours.

It’s a beautiful mid-September day on the Island and the UV is an 8, so you decided to take the setting of your video outside and you’re posted up on a lounge chair with your book and Stanley until Mat comes home.

After polishing off nearly half of your book, you check Mat’s location again and you’re surprised to find that he’s on the move - heading back home. You hadn’t realized so much time had passed.

He’ll be home in ten minutes, according to the app, so you hop off the lounger and get everything set up, adrenaline making your heart skip a beat. You shake out the towel on top of the lounger and straighten it, moving your book and Stanley off to the coffee table. You check the app again and Mat’s down the block, his little circle stopped at the intersection that has a traffic camera, where you’ve both gotten caught more than once.

Once his car turns onto your block, you take the final step and untie the strings of your bikini, stepping out of the bottoms and tossing the scraps of fabric off to the side. You shiver a little, even though it’s not cold at all and sit back down on the lounger, bending your knee and then straightening it out. You scrunch up your face and bend it again - there’s a slight breeze on your bare cunt and you wiggle, unbending your knee again.

“Fuck this is so awkward,” you grumble to yourself, tipping your head back and closing your eyes against the warmth of the sun.

After a few seconds of soaking up the heat, you check your phone again and Mat’s little icon is right on top of your blue dot. He’s home and you grin when you hear his car door slam shut in the driveway. You give an excited little wiggle and open Tik Tok on your phone, thumbing over to start recording.

The back doors are open so you can hear Mat come through the front and kick off his shoes. One hits the wall with a faint thump and you roll your eyes, knowing there’s going to be a little scuff mark on the wall.

Quietly, into the microphone of your phone, you say, “Mat’s home and I’m naked in the backyard. I’m going to call him out to see something and I’m sure he’ll give us all a reaction for the ages.”

From inside, you can hear him call out for you, “Squeaks? Babe, I’m back.”

A giggle bubbles on your chest and makes your voice shake a little when you call back, “I’m outside. Can you come take a look at something for me?”

“I’m not catching another lizard,” he shouts out, footsteps getting closer. “Leave them alone on the deck.”

You roll your eyes to yourself - it was one time, twice tops, but Mat will never let you forget it. “No lizards, just come here,” you call, moving the phone slightly away from your mouth and making sure the back doors are squarely in the frame.

He appears in the doorway a second later, dressed for golf in his shorts and polo, with a brown paper Chipotle bag in his hand. “I picked up lunch and I’ll even sha—“ his sentence stops short when he steps onto the deck and catches sight of you. You grin to yourself and watch as he processes what he’s seeing.

Mat’s eyes are wide and his jaw is slack briefly before a slow smirk stretches his lips. “Squeaks…” he trails off your nickname, his voice suddenly rough.

“Mhm?” You hum, still holding your phone slightly to the side. To your amusement, the front of Mat’s shorts tighten in front of your eyes, the fabric straining over his cock. He so clearly doesn’t know where to look, eyes bouncing from your phone to your face to your tits to your thighs.

To be extra wicked, you sit up and stretch your legs open, feet on either side of the lounger so Mat has the perfect view of your cunt, bare and dripping wet.

His jaw works and he carefully sets the Chipotle bag on the deck table. “I’m not even gonna ask what Tik Tok trend this is, but thank God for it,” he mutters, yanking his polo over his head and sending his hat flying off in the process. His hair is messy around his face, sticking up in all directions and you can’t wait to get your hands in it.

You giggle. “I told you I wanted you to come look at something,” you reply, watching with hungry eyes as he kicks off his shorts, the belt still half buckled, and crosses the grass in a few long strides. He’s standing in front of you in just his boxer-briefs, black and tight over his growing erection.

Mat grips himself roughly over the fabric and you watch the tendons in his wrist flex.

“Yeah,” he huffs a breath out of his nose, “I’m definitely looking at something.” His hand sinks under the fabric of his briefs and you watch his hand move, stretching the fabric obscenely while he pumps his cock once, twice, three times. “And now I’m gonna get my hands on her.”

Your hand falls slightly to the side, still recording on your phone and you have the brief thought that you’re definitely going to have to edit the shit out of this video before Mat’s yanking down his briefs and kneeling at the foot of the lounger, his hands wrapped around the outside of your thighs. He pulls, dragging your body closer to his and you let out a little yelp at the sudden movement.

Your phone goes flying from your hand, landing in the grass next to the chair and you pout at Mat, “my phone! Let me -“

“Nope,” he cuts you off with a little swat to your hip. “We’ll deal with that later. Right now, I have to look at something.”

He leans forward, his cock bobbing up against his stomach and you swallow, arousal dripping down the curve of your ass. You’re very glad you decided to put down a towel.

Mat’s hands are hot on your thighs, trailing up over your sides and splaying out over your ribcage, fingertips brushing the undersides of your breasts. He grins down at you, “looking at these tits, my favorite tits. But I think -“ he cups each one in a hand, flicking his thumbs over your nipples until they’re tight and pebbled, “yeah, they look better like this. Even better with my mouth on them.”

You whine as soon as Mat leans down and wraps his lips around one nipple, tracing a circle around it with his tongue. You can feel his cock - hot, hard, and leaking - on your stomach and you lift your hips subconsciously, trying to relieve some of the ache that’s building between your thighs. His grinds his cock against your stomach lazily and you moan his name, hands flying up to his hair to tug. Mat grunts against your breast the harder you pull and after a particularly hard yank, he bites down. The sting is enough to make you yelp and rake your nails over his scalp.

“That hurt,” you pout and he shakes his head, releasing your tit with a wet pop.

“Did not,” he counters, pupils blown wide and lips slick with saliva.

You grin and tug at his hair a bit more. “Let me bite you and we’ll see who’s right,” you reply breathily, Mat’s hands kneading at your breasts.

He slides his cock against your stomach and you gasp, fresh arousal pooling between your thighs. “Baby, we’ll get to the biting, don’t worry,” he teases, pinching and rolling your nipples until you cry out.

You hum, pulling at his hair to drag his face to yours, desperate for a kiss. Mat obliges, sliding his lips over yours and sucking at your tongue while his hands play with your breasts and his cock grinds against your stomach. It’s hard to catch your breath with all the sensation, the pleasure building steadily in your stomach.

He smells good, a combination of sweat and grass that isn’t masked by his deodorant, and you let your hands drift out of his hair and over his back. The muscles bunch and move as he does, sweat gathering between his shoulder blades.

You nip at his lower lip and Mat smiles against your mouth, pulling back slowly. One of his legs shifts, his knee sliding up and pressing against your cunt. A gasp punches from your lungs, the rub of his leg hair against your clit the friction you’ve been searching for. “Oh my god,” you whine, scratching at his back and rolling your hips against his knee.

“Needy,” Mat clicks his tongue, amused. As if his own hips aren’t moving of their own accord, gliding his cock against your stomach and leaving a trail of precome in its wake.

“You love it,” you murmur, scratching down his back. The longer you grind against Mat’s knee, the closer you come to an orgasm and it’s right there when Mat moves his hands back to your hips and pulls you down, hiking your cunt higher up on his thigh. His hands wrap around your thighs, his thumb subconsciously finding the spot on your upper inner thigh where the tiny ‘mb13’ is tattooed. He looks down and grins at the ink, rubbing it with the pad of his thumb. His cock seems to swell the longer he looks at the tattoo, thick and heavy on your chest.

“Fuck yeah, I do,” he leans in more, pushing his cock over your chest, in between the valley of your breasts. The hot weight of him on your chest makes your breathing shallower and you lose track of your movements, hips stuttering to a stop on his thigh. “You’re distracting me,” he mumbles. “Supposed to be looking at something.”

“What are you looking at now?” You murmur, breathless. Your hips move mindlessly and Mat shifts your legs, pulling them together and straddling them so your thighs are pressed tight and there’s steady pressure on your clit. You whine and wiggle your hips again, pleasure coiling tightly in your stomach.

Mat grins down at you, thrusting his hips forward so the head of his cock bumps against your chin. “Looking at that pretty face of yours,” he replies, hands finding your breasts again and playing with them. “My favorite face, especially when you look all fucked out.”

“Haven’t even fucked me yet,” you whine, darting your tongue out to lick at the tip of Mat’s cock. It jerks, twitching against your chest, and you grin wickedly, licking it again. Your hands find Mat’s thighs, tracing over the thick muscle until you let them slide over his stomach and wrap around the base of his cock.

He groans over you, curling forward when your fingers tighten around him.

“Don’t need to,” his voice is strangled. “You always look like that when I get my dick out.”

You stroke his cock firmly and press your thumb against his leaking tip, craning your neck to lick him again before sucking the tip between your lips. Mat’s chin falls to his chest, a loud grunt vibrating through his body.

“Shh,” you giggle faintly, releasing the head of his cock with a wet pop. “The neighbors are going to hear!” Even as you admonish him, you repeat your actions, gripping him tightly and drooling over his cock.

Mat shifts back, his cock falling out of your grip and slapping against your left breast. There’s sticky precome all over your chest and stomach and Mat drags his fingers through it before shoving them in your mouth. You hum around his fingers, swirling your tongue over them until they’re dripping. He’s further down your legs now, using his other hand to pry your thighs apart slightly, nudging his cock head in between your legs. He taps the leaking head of it against your tattoo, leaving a smear of precome, and then shifts so it’s pressed tightly against your clit. The pressure makes you see stars and you whine loudly, muffled by his fingers.

“Shhh,” he teases, thrusting his hips shallowly. He lets his fingers fall from your lips and you yelp loudly when those same fingers find your clit and pinch it at the same time his cock bumps against it. “Neighbors will hear you.”

“Oh my god, Mat!” Your groan shifts off into a strangled shout when, without warning, Mat’s fingers find your soaked entrance and circle it, fingers spreading you wide so he can thrust the first few inches of his cock into you. The stretch always burns briefly and then he moves, rolling his hips into yours and filling you to the brim, pleasantly full. You chant his name like a prayer, louder and louder every time he batters against your g-spot. Any concern about the neighbors hearing you is out the window with all the rest of your thoughts.

Mat’s got one hand gripping at the top of the lounge chair, his hair flopped over his forehead and sweat trailing down his temple as his hips snap relentlessly. “Look so fucking beautiful taking my cock,” he groans when you clench around him. “Fucking waiting here for me, naked and ready. Goddamn Tik Tok giving you the best ideas.”

Your nails dig it to his asscheeks, dragging him closer, knees bent to open yourself more for him. “Love you, love you, oh my god,” you babble, nearly at the edge. His free hand trails down your body and presses down on your lower stomach, feeling the bulge of his cock from the outside. You shriek at the sensation, rocking your hips and meeting him thrust for thrust.

He snaps his hips again, harder, and you fall, seeing stars as your orgasm rushes through your body. You come hard and wet around his cock, squirting all over his pelvis and lower stomach. Mat’s cock thickens inside of you and he comes a second later, filling you for so long you’re startled that he’s still hard even after his hips have stopped moving and he’s collapsed on top of you. The sweaty weight of his body makes it hard to catch your breath and you can’t help but wiggle underneath him, digging at his thigh with your heel.

“Gimme a sec,” he mutters against your neck, shifting his hips. You gasp, sensitive and overstimulated and still stuffed full of his hard cock.

“How’re you still hard?” You breathe, pushing at his sides, trailing your fingers over his muscles.

Mat finally rolls off of you, wedging your body against his on the lounger meant for one. You cling to him so you don’t fall off. “How is that even a question?” He laughs, trailing a hand over your back and in between your legs. You wiggle against his touch, his cock pressed against your stomach and his fingers rubbing your mixed fluids against your inner thigh. It’s messy and disgusting but you don’t have any desire to move. “I’ve been hard for you from the minute I met you. Squeaks.”

“Perv,” you tease, licking a bead of sweat from his jaw.

His laugh is loud, echoing around the yard. “As if you’re not the one who started this,” he pinches at your inner thigh. “Sitting out here butt ass naked, filming a Tik Tok.”

“Oh my god!” The mention of the social media app sparks in your brain and you remember your phone, in the grass and still recording. You try to scramble over Mat’s lap, but he locks you in place with his arms. “Let go, oh my god. I have to delete that video. It’s hard core porn!!”

“Soft core,” Mat counters, laughing. “It’s just our voices.”

You growl at him, “not helping!” and wriggle in his arms until you’re draped over his side with your ass in the air and your arms stretched out to the grass to reach for your phone. Mat laughs under you, shaking your whole body and making it hard for you to reach your phone. He pats at your ass, a little nonsense rhythm and you kick your foot in the air, knowing it won’t hit him.

“You should send me the video,” he says as soon as you’ve managed to snag your phone. “I like hearing you scream my name.”

“Nope,” you shake your head, blood rushing to your face the longer you stay practically upside down over Mat’s lap. You stop the recording and your thumb hovers over the button to delete the video. A small part of you actually wants to rewatch it and see Mat’s reaction again. The smarter part of you wants to make sure your soft core porn never leaks on the Internet.

Your brain struggles to focus with the way Mat’s kneading at your ass, his voice soothing as he speaks, “download it, it’ll just be for us. Can’t even see anything.”

“Stop trying to be the little devil on my shoulder,” you complain, but your thumb moves away from the delete button and you find yourself canceling the action instead.

Mat laughs again, your favorite sound, and slides his hand in between your legs, playing lazily with your clit. You wiggle and gasp, clenching around nothing. “Put it in a locked folder,” he continues, dragging you slowly to the edge.

You can’t think with lust and arousal fogging your brain and by the time Mat’s fingered you to a second orgasm all thoughts of deleting the video are gone.

“Hey,” Mat says, his chest vibrating under your cheek. You’re slumped over him, legs straddling his hips, completely limp and boneless.

“Hmm?” You hum, wondering briefly if the sting on your ass is from Mat’s hand or the beginnings of a sunburn.

“You have any other Tik Tok videos you want to make?” He teases, playfully gripping your ass. “I like these naked ones best.”

He yelps when you bite down on the muscle of his pec, a little nip, and taps at your cheek with his free hand. “You’re such a gremlin,” he says over your laughter.

You lean your chin on his chest, looking up at him with a wide smile on your face. “Takes one to know one,” you shoot back, kissing his jaw. “Now carry me inside, I want my Chipotle bowl.”

“You mean my Chipotle bowl?” Mat retorts. Still, he sits up and takes you with him, your arms looped around his neck and legs locked around his waist.

“What’s yours is mine,” you giggle, waving a hand in the hair behind his back. “Happy wife, happy life. All that Hallmark-y stuff.”

He stands and you cling tighter, the slip of your sweaty skin against his making your thighs flex around his waist so you don’t fall. “Not a wifey yet, Squeaks,” he teases, locking his hands under your ass and carrying you over to the deck. Your phone’s back on the grass, but you’ll make Mat go get it in a second, along with both of your discarded clothes.

“Less than a year,” you point out, wiggling your left hand in front of his face.

He kisses your finger and in a sappy little move, says, “counting down the seconds until you’re Mrs. Barzal.”

Your entire body turns to mush, so much love for Mat flooding your brain. You press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” you mumble.

“Love you too, my little exhibitionist freak,” Mat laughs, drowning out your outraged gasp.

You can’t be too mad at him though, not when he settles you on the deck chair and hands over his Chipotle bowl, retrieving his golf polo and pulling it over your head so you can eat comfortably and not sunburn.

[starlight-sev]

December 1: December Moon (Snape x Reader)

(Part of @deepperplexity’s Rickmas 2024 prompts)

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything, but I really wanted to participate in Rickmas this year!

Writing’s been tough as I have a new (much more demanding) job, but I’ll do my best to get as many prompts out there this month as I can.

Gender neutral reader as always for this one. It’s platonic too. Enjoy, and happy December!

The first hour of the Yule Ball had been fun, but now the novelty was starting to wear off.

The glamour and elegance that welcomed you when you first walked into the Great Hall was now gone; napkins littered the floor, chairs were haphazardly strewn here and there from students rushing to dance in excitement, and the music had changed to ear-blasting rock.

On any other day, you would’ve loved it. But sitting here at the teacher’s table, in shoes too narrow and a fancy outfit that was beginning to itch, you just felt like crawling out of your own skin.

You were technically still on supervision duty — Dumbledore had scheduled all the teachers in one hour shifts to ensure there were chaperones at all times. Casting a glance at the silver clock on the wall, your heart sunk as you realized you still had another 45 minutes before you could retreat back into the comfort of your own chambers.

Surely no one would notice if you left for a few moments though, right? If you left your jacket on your chair, you could easily pass off a quick absence as an emergency bathroom break.

You got up out of your chair and rushed out of the Great Hall as quick as you could. You forced yourself not to look back as you turned the corner and headed into a secluded spot in the courtyard.

The winter air was a welcome chill that crept across your skin as you settled down on a step. You could relax for a moment, finally. Even if it were only for a quick smoke break. You thanked Merlin for formalwear with pockets as you snagged a lonely cigarette out of your side pocket, and fumbled around looking for a lighter in the other pocket. You did bring it with you, didn’t you?

“Escaping duty, are we?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as a quiet, yet deep, voice spoke from behind you. You shot up to your feet quickly and whipped around to see Severus smirking at you.

“Bloody hell, you scared me.” You gasped, taking in his attire. You had to admit, even in all black, he still cleaned up nicely for an event as formal as this. He had on a wool coat, and what looked like a handknitted scarf. Though he wore his usual stoic expression, the way his hands were jammed in his pockets suggested he was just as cold as you were.

“Sorry.” You muttered. “I’ll go back in. Don’t tell Albus.”

To your surprise, Severus scoffed.

“I’m escaping as well, if it weren’t obvious enough. I’ve had enough of that music.”

You laughed at that. “I thought you’d like what they’re playing.”

“Why? Because of what I wear?”

You glanced away, and out of the corner of your eye, you swore Severus smirked at you.

“I didn’t know you smoke.” He observed with a murmur, quirking an eyebrow slightly as he nodded to the cigarette resting between your fingers. You shrugged.

“I usually don’t. I’ve managed to kick the habit for the most part, it’s only in situations like these when I need something to keep me sane.”

You searched your pockets again and swore under your breath. You had forgotten your lighter.

Severus almost seemed to read your mind, and with an unreadable expression, he took out a lighter of his own. You raised your eyebrows.

“You have Muggle parents too?” You asked, somewhat astonished. Most wizards would simply use their wand as a lighter, but something about having a physical object with only one purpose felt comforting to you. Familiar.

Severus nodding in response, rolling his eyes while doing so.

“Yes. My father. You?”

“My dad too.” You replied. You held the cigarette between your lips, and, to your surprise, Severus held the lighter up for you. It was a strangely intimate gesture, and your stomach did a little flip-flop as you locked eyes with him, before lighting your cigarette.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. He just nodded.

“I’d offer you a cigarette,” you continued. “But I only brought one. Sorry. I try to limit myself.”

Severus shrugged, slipping the lighter back into his coat pocket. “I don’t smoke.”

“Then why do you have a lighter?”

There was a thick silence that filled the space between the two of you as Severus pressed his lips together.

“It belonged to my father. I suppose I keep it out of spite.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but you caught the warning in Severus’s eyes as he shifted to gaze at you. You remained quiet, and turned your gaze upwards to the sky instead.

“It’s a nice evening. Full moon tonight.”

“Mm. Indeed.”

You keep your gaze on the moon as you smoke. Neither of you speak for a while, and as you finish your cigarette, you wonder if Severus glided back into the castle as softly as he came. As you finally tore your gaze away from the moon, you caught the shadow out of the corner of your eye.

“Oh. You’re still here.”

Severus smirked a little. “Do you want me to go?”

“No, no!” You mumbled quickly, shaking your head. “It’s not that. I just… didn’t think you liked me enough to stay this long.”

As if to challenge that statement, Severus stepped a little closer to you. “And what exactly brought you to that conclusion?”

You tried to mask the way your breath caught in your throat. “Nothing, I just… I don’t know. Seems you don’t like many people here. Me included.”

“I’m selective with my company.” Severus replied slowly. “The fact that I am still here should prove you wrong, should it not?”

You couldn’t exactly argue with that. You sighed, wrapping your arms tightly around your torso. The cold was starting to hit you.

Severus noticed your feeble attempt to stay warm. Rolling his eyes, he unraveled the scarf from around his neck and draped it around you without a word.

“Oh, no it’s okay-”

“You’re shivering like a damn dog. Take it.”

You go to protest, but the fire in his eyes shuts you up quickly. You give up quickly, and nod your gratitude.

“Thank you. I owe you one.”

“Two, actually. The lighter.”

His face is serious, but you could swear you see a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

“Okay,” you said sarcastically. “What’s your payment then?”

To your surprise, Severus actually considered your question. He cast his eyes back up to the moon and exhaled slowly before gazing at you.

“Tea tomorrow. Say, after the staff meeting?”

This wasn’t at all what you were used to from Severus. Maybe it was alcohol talking. Maybe it was the full moon. Nevertheless, you nodded slowly.

“Deal.”

Severus nodded, the faintest smile on his lips.

“Good. Now go back in there. Or else Minerva will have your head.”

You snickered, shaking your head. To your relief, you felt lighter than when you walked out fifteen minutes earlier.

“Are you coming in too?” You asked Severus as you began walking. He shrugged almost imperceptibly before following you.

“I suppose.”

“There’s still music playing. We could dance together.”

Your suggestion was a joke, but there was a part of you that was silently hoping he’d agree. Instead, Severus laughed and shook his head.

“Absolutely not. But I’ll share a drink with you.”

“Drink and a dance?”

“No. A drink. Two, maybe. But no dancing.”

You grin as the two of you walked back into the Great Hall. You slid into your seat at the teacher’s table, and Severus sat down beside you. You slide him a bottle of Firewhiskey from the middle of the table.

“How about two drinks and we sneak out of here for the night, for good this time?”

Severus smirked as he picked up a glass and held it out to you.

“Deal.”

[msschemmenti]

girl in danger

part one

summary: JJ and Emily’s Southern Belle is in danger.

a/n: trying my hand at a bit of angst and suspense with my southern belle reader. i’m not exactly sure how this is going to go but i’m excited for the challenge. this takes place before “under one roof” and after the end of “girl next door” — this is all apart of the Sugared and Sweetied series on ao3

Monday. April 28th - The ass-crack of dawn

“Make it stop,” Emily murmured, burrowing further into Y/n’s back. There was no way it was time to get up for work. She felt like she’d only closed her eyes 30 minutes ago, there had to be more time in bed. More time wrapped around her girlfriends. The weekend couldn’t possibly be over already. But as the ringing alarm continued and the youngest of the three roused awake she knew her time was up.

She and JJ had stumbled in from a case just after 2 and persuaded Y/n to come spend her last few hours of sleep with them in their bed. And as the alarm was shut off, Emily recalled the younger woman’s warning about having to be up early to start her day. In a last-ditch effort to cling to the comfort, Emily pulled the younger woman back into her chest and kissed her bare shoulder. “Five more minutes.”

Y/n grinned sleepily, allowing the older woman to snuggle her a bit more but sigh shook her head nonetheless. “I told you last night. If I came over I’d have to go home early to get ready for the day.”

“Yeah, but do you really have to?” Emily urged, eyes already closed again.

JJ, who hadn’t even flinched when the alarm went off, finally lifted her head from Y/n’s chest with a pout. “Shh, too much talking.” Y/n rolled her eyes affectionately and placed a kiss on the sleepy woman’s head then finally untangled herself from her girlfriends. Both women whined tiredly and peeled their eyes open to watch the younger woman collect her things. “The weekend is too short,” JJ grumbled.

“I’m sure spending it chasing serial killers and on a plane didn’t help it feel long either. But go back to sleep, I’ll lock the door behind me.” Y/n waved over her shoulder as she shimmied back into her pajamas. “You can still get a few hours before heading in.”

“Will we see you tonight?” JJ asked hopefully. Their late return had secured them a late start and a week off rotation.

“Yep, but you might get in before me. I’ll pop over when I get home. Now give me some sugar so I can start my day properly.” Y/n kneeled on the edge of the bed with puckered lips.

-

“As I’ve expressed for the whole semester, in order to pass this class y’all will be required to participate in the departmental recital at the end of the year. Now for most of you, we’ve been working on your piece during performance class for the last few months. But there are three of you, I just haven’t been able to convince to workshop in class.” Y/n addressed the class, leaning against the piano in the choir room. She was three weeks out from finishing her first year teaching here in DC and this recital was marking the start of her summer. “With that being said, can I get three volunteers for next week's performance class?”

Y/n surveyed the room for the three students she was hinting at. She’d hoped they’d take the bait without her calling them out, but she was sadly mistaken when neither of them met her eyes. She’d worked with most of them individually over the semester, but apparently, something about being workshopped in front of your peers just really wasn’t appealing to them. At the silence, she pulled her notebook out to confirm the three students who still hadn’t volunteered for class. She read the three highlighted names over in her head and tried to smile out at them as she gazed at the class. “Claire, Matt, and Jordan. You three are the only ones who haven’t done the seminar this semester. And in case anyone’s forgotten– you’ve gotta do seminar at least once to pass Class Voice. Since the recital is coming up, let’s go ahead and put y’all down for next week, so I don’t have to give anyone a zero. Sound fair?” All three students nodded solemnly and Y/n sighed sadly. “Listen, I’m willing to throw in some extra lessons before next week”s class. You’ll just need to let me know when. Anything you need to help get you ready for workshop and then the recital.” She got some grunts of agreement and shook her head in amusement at her students. College students really had a way with words. “Alright, that’s all for today. Claire, Matt, and Jordan just let me know if you want some extra time. Have a good one y’all.”

Everyone gathered their things quickly, eager to take any and all extra time they could get with finals right around the corner. Y/n watched most of the students leave and grabbed her things to head for her office. The room quieted behind her and she slung her bag over her shoulder ready to leave, only to come face to face with Matt still sitting in his chair. Y/n jumped a bit with a cautious and uneasy smile. “Oh Matt, did you need something?”

The younger man’s eyes widened as if he was shocked he was being addressed, but stumbled over a reply. “No, not really.” His cheeks seemed to glow under Y/n’s attention and his eyes roamed the room wildly. When he moved his hand to the back of his neck to pull at the loose hair there, Y/n furrowed her brows in concern.

“Honey, are you okay? You’re looking bout as red as your shirt.” Matt huffed out a laugh and seemed to get even more flustered but he shook his head nervously. “Well alright, let me know if you wanna work on your song sometime.” When the student nodded, Y/n smiled and exited the classroom heading up the stairs for some planning before her next class.

-

“Claire, how about we work tomorrow, and Jordan we work Thursday? I’ve got a rehearsal with the faculty Wednesday night.” Y/n asked scanning her calendar for the week. Both girls nodded their understanding and pulled their planners out to note the addition to their week.

“Thanks, Professor Y/Ln. My last class is over at 5:30, what time should we plan to start?”

“Can you do 6? That way I can get you out of here before dinner time.”

“That works, I’ll let Miguel know and see if he can swing it.”

“Great, same time Thursday for you Jordan?” Jordan nods with a salute and both she and Claire head for the door. Y/n brought all her open tasks for the day to a close and gathered her things to return home. She’d already gotten a message from Emily and JJ saying they’d picked up dinner and were waiting for her return. So there really wasn’t any reason for her to stick around longer than she had to. With food and some loving on her mind, she burst through her office door, eyes cast down on her keys. What she hadn’t expected was a wall of a person to be waiting for her outside. Again, Matt stood eyeing Y/n. She eyed the guy in confusion with one hand on her keys and the other on the door. He really seemed to move silently. “Hello again, Matthew. You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” the kid nodded, hands tightening around the strap of his backpack subtly. “I was hoping we could go through my piece for the performance class. And the recital.”

Y/n let her eyes float to the hall clock behind Matt’s head and tried to convey some sort of sympathy toward the student. It was going on 8 pm and again, she had dinner and loving waiting for her. She flashed him an apologetic smile before speaking, “I’m sorry Matt, I was heading home for the night. I’ve got some guests waiting for me tonight. Tell ya what, come by sometime tomorrow and we can find a day to work on your piece, okay?” Y/n locked her office and started heading down the hall hoping to inspire Matt to start moving as well.

Matt followed down the hall and coughed out a response, “Uh yeah! Sure. I’ll stop by tomorrow between my classes. Sorry I came so late today, time just got away from me in the lab.”

They came to a stop at the end of the hall, Y/n heading for the faculty parking lot and Matt the front door. Sliding her phone from her purse, Y/n waved him off easily. “Don’t worry about it Matt. I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night!” She gave him one last wave and exited the building to head home to her girlfriends.

-

“Honeys, I’m home!” Y/n grinned, tossing her purse and work things by the door in favor of seeking JJ and Emily out. She found JJ first, nestled in the corner of the couch with a movie paused on the tv. Y/n flopped almost on top of JJ with a content sigh.

“Welcome home baby.” JJ grinned down at the younger woman pulling her snuggly against her chest. Emily exited the kitchen shortly with three bowls stacked in her hands and laid them out for them on the coffee table.

“Does it feel weird getting in after us?” Emily laughed, watching as Y/n all but purred as JJ ran her fingers soothingly over her back.

“I don’t like it.” Y/n pouted and turned her head from JJ’s neck. “I would’ve been here sooner but everyone is obsessed with me or something. Three students in my office after 7? That’s about as pleasant as a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.”

Both JJ and Emily rolled their eyes and laughed, adding that one to the ever growing list of absolutely absurd things that came out of the younger woman’s mouth. “Oh yeah, that sounds bad. What did they need?”

“We were scheduling some extra lessons to help them through their stage fright. I’ve been telling them all semester that they have to perform in order to pass the class and now we’re three weeks out and now they’re all shakin like a leaf in a hurricane. So I offered some of them some extra help with their pieces.” Y/n explained turning fully in JJ’s arms to face Emily.

“So you told them to come by your office?” JJ asked skeptically.

“Well yes, I have to. That doesn’t mean I thought they’d actually do it. I’ve been saying this all year long and no one has actually done it. Especially not after 5.” Y/n grumbled.

“Right, right. How dare they do what you ask.” Emily teased, passing the bowls to the women with a smile.

“I know you’re being sarcastic but yes how dare they. Now I’ll probably be coming in after y��all for the rest of the week at least. The balance of the world has shifted.”

“Order must be restored!” JJ jokingly cursed, waving her free hand in the air dramatically.

Y/n frowned and flicked JJ’s thigh, “For people who were begging to have me over just this morning, I’m getting a lot of teasing and not enough kissing. I’ve been here for what? 20 minutes and neither of you has used those smart mouths for good.” Both JJ and Emily fought to keep their laughter at bay but both puckered their lips to meet their girlfriend’s lips where she laid. “Now that’s more like it.”

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile III

<-Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Pairing: Alastor x Female!Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Well, well, this chapter is pure fluff. I really liked how it ended up. Please, enjoy it.

“ Can I come in yet?” you asked, outside Alastor’s bedroom, waiting for him to open the door.

You’ve been waiting for five minutes and you weren’t known for being a patient person. You were having a sleepover at Marie’s house after weeks of begging, from you at least. When your mothers said yes, you couldn’t be more ecstatic and even Alastor seemed happier than usual. He did ask you to come with a pretty dress because he had a new game he wanted to play with you. It was unusual but exciting ! 

So here you were, waiting in your pretty dress, your hair perfectly done, and a frown on your face. How long were you going to wait for him? You were ready to knock once again on his door but it jerked open before you could touch it. And there was your friend, his hair slicked back, his glasses on and his usual smile on his lips. You kissed him on both cheeks before he tugged you inside his bedroom.

“ Welcome to my humble Radiobooth !” He said with glee as he showed you his desk with paper spread on it, and.. was it a microphone ? You tilted your head as he forced you to sit down on one side of the bureau. He took the microphone, and spoke.

“ Welcome New Orleans to Alastor’s podcast ! Thank you for tuning in, today I’m thrilled to announce that I will not be alone, I am blessed with the best singer in all Lousianna !” he claimed and shoved the microphone to your face. You looked at his beaming smile and understood what he wanted from you. You smiled as you spoke into the microphone.

“ Thank you Alastor, I’m very pleased and proud to be here, with the best radio host in the world!” you declared, trying to sound ladylike. You grinned at him as you saw his smile sketch at your words.  He gave you some paper with doodles and notes that you began to read the fattest you could as he kept talking.

“ Would you like to talk about something, Miss ?” asked Alastor as he watched you read the notes he gave you. You nodded as you spoke into the microphone, Alastor holding it for you.

“ Well, yes. Last week, at school, a girl mocked my voice, saying I sounded like a dying pig!” You ignored Alastor’s sniggeer as you kept playing your role, reading the topic you were suppose to talk about. 

“ How dreadful ! How could she say something like this?”

“ Right ?” , you decided to go off script, putting the notes down “ but you should have heard her screams when I pushed her into a puddle of mud. Now, who is the pig?” you hid your smile behind your hand like a proper lady as Alastor’s laughter roared in his bedroom, his head tilted back. You giggled as he calmed himself down, holding the microphone to his lips.

“ Oh dear, you sure know how to put up a fight!” He looked down at his notes still giggling.” I did have something similar happening to me: a boy , talking badly about my mother.”

“ What?! How dare he ? I hope you put him in his place !” you shouted, feeling anger circling inside your body. Wait, was it for real or was it part of the show?

“ Indeedy I did, dear. I punched the poor fool, but it seemed like I hit too hard and he went crying somewhere and I was unfairly punished. This is why, my dear, our sleepover was delayed to this day!” he smiled as your mouth was wide open. You applauded him as he beamed with pride.

“ You did well, Mister Alastor!”

You kept doing your broadcast with Alastor, going off script when you wanted to talk about something that happened and he wasn’t there with you. Sometimes you would just shut your mouth and listen to him telling stories, real or not. You could listen to him all afternoon but he always insisted that you participate in the debate or the stories he created. He sometimes teased you as you didn’t know what to say or you couldn’t understand what he meant but you were really having a great time.

“ Oh, so she fell in love? What did you say then?”

“ That she better get up. Now dear listener, we are ready to hear your question !” he said before turning his head toward his door as Marie came inside with food and drinks. “ Oh well, here is the best cook in all of New Orleans, please come Moth- Madame! A round of applause for our new guest!” he said as he stood up, gesturing to his mother to come closer.

Marie laughed as she sat next to you, putting the tray on the desk, minding the notes all over it. You applauded with a big smile as Marie bowed her head. 

“ It’s a pleasure to be here!”

~~~

It truly seemed like Marie was having the time of her life as she was holding her belly, laughing loudly.

“ No Mister Alastor! Sweets are the best food you could ever eat if you weren’t so picky with what  you ate!” you shouted, slamming your fist on the table.

“ Are you saying that my mother’s food is not the best, you brat?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed but still with his cunning smiling face.

“ I’ve never said that! Don’t put words in my mouth !”

“ That’s what I get for inviting a singer.”

“ Hey !”

Marie applauded before wiping her tears from her eyes. She kissed you both on the forehead before saying she had things to do but she hoped she would be invited once more for another broadcast.

You watched as she left the bedroom before turning your attention to Alastor who was writing notes on papers. You tilted your head before clapping your hands together as you remembered what you wanted to say to Alastor before he made you wait in front of his door.

“ I found a name for our cat!”

“ Our cat?”

“ The one who always hisses at you, yes. Let’s call him… Hissker!”

“ … Well, ladies and gentlemen, we will be back, for now, please enjoy this music I choose for you!” He turned on his radio so you could be lulled by the music. He laid his microphone on the table and sighed as he raised an eyebrow to you. “ Hissker ? I guess it’s because he is always hissing toward me but.. It doesn’t really sound right.”

“ Well.. Hiss.. Hiss…” you tried to find a good name that would satisfy Alastor. “ What about Husker ?” you asked and smiled when you saw Alastor nod. “ It was a very funny game, I hope we will play it again!”

Alastar grinned as he shook his head. “ It is not over yet, we haven't gone through all the notes yet. And you need to sing at the end of the broadcast, aren’t you the best singer in Louisiana ?” he taunted you with a smirk. “ Plus, we have the listener’s question to answer!” He stood up and went to take letters and put them in front of you. You took one and opened it.

“ What is your favorite color ?” you read before tilting your head, looking at Alastor. “ You want to know my favorite color?” He shook his head, claiming that it was the audience’s question, not his ! You smiled, feeling warm inside, it was not everyday that Alastor was curious about you like this, but you didn’t dare to tease him about it. 

“ Welcome back dear listeners ! Our singer here is ready to answer all of your questions !” he took the letters and began to read its content to you. You answer all the questions with sincerity and joy. “ If you could have a superpower, what would it be?”

“ Flying !” you giggled.

“ And now, our last question before our guest’s performance. What do you think about our dear radio host Alastor ?” he stared at you, the letter hiding the bottom of his face you could only see his eyes. You took the microphone from his hand, he surprisingly let you, and with a big smile you shouted.

“ He is the best !”

Your smile widened as Alastar laughed at your answer, clapping into his hands. You felt warm seeing him so happy. You gave him back his microphone but he shook his head and tugged you toward the living room, where a beautiful piano was waiting for you. You looked at Alastor, you didn’t know how to play the piano and he knew that so why…

“ Dear listeners, it’s almost time to say au revoir but before that let’s listen to our beautiful singer here.” he sat on the bench before the piano and began to play a melody. You blushed as you held on the microphone, feeling shy. You looked at Alastor who was watching you, with a big grin before closing his eyes. You took a big breath as you recognized the melody that he played. It was one of your favorite songs… 

You began to sing shyly, waiting for Alastor to laugh at you but he was keeping his eyes closed, moving with the rhythm of the piano’s keys. You closed your eyes as you held the microphone near your mouth, beginning to feel freer and freer. You smiled as you began to dance in the living room, your dress twirling around you. You jumped, moving your head with the rhythm singing like nobody was watching. You were having so much fun, you felt exthrilled, you didn’t care if you were being too loud, if you didn't hit all the right notes.  You opened your eyes and fell into Alastor’s gaze. 

He was staring at you with a big smile, still playing the piano perfectly with a little bit of sweat near his forehead. His hair was no longer neatly slicked back, some curly locks of hair were falling in front of his face. You thought you would feel embarrassed that he was watching you being a dumb happy girl but you just smiled at him, dancing and singing. After a while, even Marie came and you danced with her, as you sang and Alastor kept playing.

It was perfect.

You finished your song, out of breath. Marie applauded you with a big grin as Alastor put his arms around your shoulder and crushed you against his chest. He took back his microphone, thanking his audience as you were looking at him. You remember him being a tad smaller than you, but now… Did he get taller? He forced you to bow before saying goodbye. 

“ It was an amazing performance ! Both of you, you can be proud of you. As a thank you, I have prepared Alastor’s favorite food: jambalaya ! “ She clapped her hands together. You tilted your head, you’ve never eaten this food but from Alastor’s face, you couldn’t wait to taste it.

~~~ 

“ You can sleep with me sweetie, my husband will not come home tonight.” said Marie as you shook your head, holding your plushie against your chest in your nightgown.

“ We are still playing with Alastor! When we are finished, I will join you.” you said with a shy smile. Alastor was behind you, waiting for his mother's permission to stay a little longer awake than usual.  She sighed but at your pleading eyes she accepted your request. You squealed with happiness before running into Alastor's bedroom and jumping on his bed. He came after you, looking at your plushie with a puzzled expression.

“ What is it ?”

“ Well, first of all, it’s a He and he is a deer.” you smiled as you explained that when you were five, you fell down a lake and because you have never learned how to swim, you were drowning but a deer came toward you and bent down his head so you could grab his antlers ! “ My parents said that it was a tree branch that fell down the lake but I’m sure it was a deer !” you pouted, sad that you parents never trust your story. Even if you couldn’t really remember well this story, you knew what you had seen. 

“ So, a deer saved your life from drowning…”

“ Yes, so my parents bought me this deer plushie so now, when I'm scared I can just squeeze him and feel safe!” you demonstrated your words by squeezing your plushie against you. “ Do you want to try it?” 

Alastor stared at you and then the plushie.

“ How can he protect you?”

You rolled your eyes at him before pushing your plushie in his arms. You forced him to hug it, once you were satisfied, you nodded and looked at Alastor who was clearly confused. “ Now, squeeze him !” You looked at him as he squeezed it, closing his eyes. 

You stared at Alastor. You remembered the bruises on his belly that you saw last month. You knew that fathers could be brutal with their son, to man them up as your friends used to say. Maybe Alastor was the same? You loved your plushie, you really did… But maybe, Alastor needed it more than you? You looked at the boy's expression, his eyes closed, his smile hiding in the plushie’s fur, he seemed so relaxed. You nodded, accepting your own decision, until Alastor was safe, you were going to give him your plushie.

“ Mister Deer could be our very first guest in our radio show?” you smiled at him, Alastor opening his eyes slowly, staring back at you. You gulped, maybe it was his show, you were just a guest. You opened your mouth to apologize but Alastor beat you to it.

“ I’d like that.” he whispered with a soft smile. “ Our first guest.”

Without being aware, you both laid down on the bed, Alastor still hugging your plushie. You kept talking even as the sun wasn’t in the sky anymore. You yawned for the third time in the last thirty seconds as you explained how to take care of Mister Deer.

“ Now that I have Mister Deer, who will protect you?” he asked, no trace of fatigue on his face. You smiled tiredly at him, putting your head on his pillow. It smelled like him. You didn’t know why you liked that fact.

“ Well, because you hold Mister Deer, it’s your job to protect me now.” 

“ … So, do I need to hug you?”

You stared at him, his eyes shining with the moon light. A hug from Alastor ? You looked away, blushing but you didn’t know why.

“ M-maybe but…Do you want to …?”

You felt him move and you flinched as he covered your eyes with his hand. You waited for him to answer but you were so tired and now that you were englushed into the darkness with his hand on your eyes you couldn’t help but fall asleep before your could hear his answer. 

~~~ 

Marie walked up the stairs, it was 11pm and it was time for the kids to go to bed. She opened the door to Alastor’s bedroom and couldn’t help but smile at the sweet scene in front of her. Alastor was hugging you with a deer plushie being squished between the two of you. She walked toward the bed and covered the both of you. Well, she couldn’t wait to tell that to your mother! She left the bedroom, closed the door quietly and went to bed.

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega

Ps: By the way, my deers, do you have an idea for the plushie's name ? I'm open to ideas.

[zaraomarrogers]

Timeless

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger Fem! Reader (Post Endgame, Steve and Reader, both are retired)

Word count: 6574

Warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!) smut, unprotected sex (f rec), piv sex, kissing, making out, ANGST, fluff, mentions of insecurities, mentions of jealousy, lack of communication, Post endgame fix

Flashbacks are in italics'.

A/N: This is my very very late submission for @mercurial-chuckles SMUT-BER fest. This is my first time participating in any contest. This is not beta'd so all mistakes are mine. I'm working on part 2, I can't live with myself if I won't give Steve his happy ending.

@mercurial-chuckles Thankyou for always being so kind and supportive. I appreciate you so much.

Part 1

The smell of freshly baked muffins wafted through the kitchen as Y/n set the breakfast table for her husband and six-year-old son. She heard the soft steps of Liam James Rogers climbing down the stairs as he squealed in excitement and ran into her open arms, “you made muffins, mama...”

“Yes, I did.” She chuckled, peppering kisses on her son’s face. “I pack one muffin in your lunch box as well. I made you an egg sandwich, there’s cheese and cracker and you asked me to put some blueberries, baby finish your lunch, okay?”

“Thank you, mama. You’re the best.” Kissing his forehead, she placed a bowl of cheerio for him on the kitchen island and moved to get her coffee from the counter. She checked the time on her smart watch and shook her head, pouring rest of the coffee in her husband’s travel mug she turned around to holler his name only to found him inches away from her with a smile on his face.

Oh, the way her heart skipped a beat...

Even though his smile wasn’t reaching his eyes, things between them were not exactly great lately, but still her heart yearned for him, for what they used to have.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Steve leaned in and kissed her cheek. He didn’t stay to hear her return his greeting. Dressed in khaki pants and light blue shirt, freshly showered hair and clean-shaven face, Steve looked simply gorgeous. Her heart sank as the unwarranted thoughts made their way in her head again. She saw him eating breakfast with Liam, chatting and laughing with their son and suddenly, she felt like she wasn’t needed there.

Blip wasn’t her fault. She tried her best to prevent it, but it still happened, and she missed five years of Liam’s life, this wasn’t just it... she lost her two best friends, Nat and Tony were more than a family to her. But Steve, she thought she was losing him, slowly, day by day, he was slipping away from her. She couldn’t remember the last time they laughed together, was it before Thanos?

Blinking back the tears she made her way upstairs to their ensuite bathroom. Splashing cold water on her face, she silently sobbed, c’mon Y/n pull yourself together... you were a fucking avenger... get it together...

She kept repeating under her breath, unknowing that Steve saw her running up the stairs and his heart urged him to go after her, but he didn’t. In navy blue silk robe that stopped just an inch above her knee, hair tied in a simple bun, she held the power on all his senses. It took everything in him not to bonk her on that kitchen counter. Gosh, she was his... his best friend, his partner, his wife, his one true love… his all. She possessed his whole world, yet he couldn’t have her the way he wanted. He didn’t even get a chance to tell her how elated he was to have her back in his life. He couldn’t have survived those five agonizing years if Liam James Rogers hadn’t been there. He lived for their son. He had spent every minute of those five infernal years thinking about her, missing her. Liam was just like his mother, her eyes, her hair, her nose and her smile...

“Dad... dad, are you listening?” Liam shook Steve’s hand, pulling him back to the present.

“Yes bubba, did you tell Mrs. Miller that you don’t have a pet?”

“Yes...” Liam pouted, “why can’t we have a pet. All my friends have pets.”

“Morgan does not.”

“She’s getting one.”

Steve sighed, “Okay, I’ll talk to mama... but no promises LJ, only if mama agrees. Also, “He whispered, “if you wana take a round of your cycle before we go to school....”

“Yesss dad, yes yes yes...” Liam joyfully screamed and ran towards the porch.

“Careful LJ, just five minutes buddy.” Steve hollered behind him.

Sighing deeply, he slowly ascended towards their bedroom to check on Y/n and found her standing by the wall sized glass window.

“Watcha doin’ here?” He tried to sound normal, but his voice gave away his concern.

“Oh, just takin’ in the view.” She pointed towards the calmness of the lake surrounded by the huge trees; leaves had started to change color. The mid October air was crisp sending a shiver down her spine. Steve came closer to her, rubbing his hands on her arms he placed a soft kiss on the exposed skin of her neck, breathing in her scent, he kissed the same spot over and over. He couldn’t help himself when it came to her. Gently, he turned her around to face him, cupping her cheeks, he leaned in to capture her lips in his own. It was supposed to be a soft and quick kiss but when she pulled him closer by wrapping her arms around his neck, he tilted his head to the side and deepened the kiss. She moaned in his mouth, tasting the muffin and strawberry jam, he had for breakfast, his hands roaming, feeling the softness of her frame. He groaned when she started to walk them towards the bed, squeezing her butt he pulled back placing his head on her forehead.

“Y/n...” he chuckled breathlessly.

“Yeah...” she placed an open mouth kiss on his neck just below the ear, knowing it would drive him crazy.

“Sweetheart... please.” Steve barely whispered, his hand rubbing the globe of her clothed ass.

The absolute need for each other was evident in the kiss they shared moments ago and the sensation that came crashing through their veins was almost invincible.

“LJ has a play date with Morgan after school...” she whispered in his ear, “... I’ll ask Happy to drop him off...” she pulled back little only to see his cerulean eyes already on her, biting her lip she continued, “I’ll make your favorite dinner, just you and me... come home early?” She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something, anything, but all she saw was a distant look in his eyes as if he was thinking of ways to decline her offer politely. She immediately stepped back, out of his embrace, Steve felt the sudden shift, before he could speak Y/n beat him to it.

“... of course, if you’re not busy or... whatever. I understand you have a schedule and...” she walked past him, “... never mind. Just let me know when you’re available.” She didn’t want to sound harsh, but it came out anyway and Steve picked up on that, he spun around on his heels following her to the staircase, taking her hand in his, bringing it to his lips.

“I’ll be home early tonight.” He gave her a smile, “I just wasn’t expecting that you’d ask. It’s been a while since we... you know sit down and have dinner, just the two of us. I was a little taken aback.”

Y/n returned his smile, she wanted to say that was because you were so distant, that you never had time for me – she wanted to say so much but all that came out was, “I’ll be waiting.” That was all she could say before Liam James came in with a scraped knee. After getting comforted by a hug from his mama and putting a Mickey Mouse band aid on his knee, Steve led them out of the house for school not before kissing her on the lips again.

Closing the door behind her, she sighed deeply as her left hand involuntarily moved to touch her slightly swollen lips now, rather than being gleeful she couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in her stomach. Her mind drifted to the day when Steve and her invited Bucky and Sam over for lunch, it was when Sam finally accepted the shield and the title of Captain America, and they decided to have a small get-together at their house. Clint with his family, Wanda, Pepper with Morgan and Happy, Rhodey and Bruce Banner – everyone was there to celebrate Sam. Y/n even made sure to invite Sam’s sister Sarah and her two boys. It was a lovely Saturday afternoon; she was elated to have them all over. The void left by the sacrifice Nat and Tony had made was irreplaceable. It took her six months after the final battle to finally make peace with the loss of her two best friends. And the party gave her a reason to gather everyone and appreciate what was left of the team.

She still couldn’t determine what exactly set Steve off during that party because for two days he kept to himself, fully ignoring her presence and when he did talk to her it was bare minimum. It was her trying to get him to say something, but Steve was way deep in his head. She stopped pushing him after some days, his laconic demeanor made her perceive that he might be missing his old life because Steve had told her after they reversed the snap that he saw Peggy when they time travelled to get the stones. He didn’t go into detail, nor did she ask, the pain of losing Nat and Tony in a short span of time was weighing her down but what Steve didn’t know was that telling her about Peggy had opened a whole can of insecurities in her.

Y/n grew up admiring Peggy Carter. She’d always looked up to her and it was one of the many things about her that made Steve open to her. Until Ultron happened, that was when she silently started resenting Peggy Carter. When Wanda got into her head disclosing the fear that Steve would go back to Peggy. She saw them dancing, called for his name and saw a strange look in his eyes for her… it left her completely torn apart, she couldn’t endure the uncouthness in Steve’s eyes and, with fear came the awareness that she couldn’t see herself without Steve. oh, how utterly and irrevocably in love with Steve she was.

With an aching heart, she started prepping for the dinner tonight, taking out the ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator she struggled to bring a semblance of joy into cooking.

~*~

Steve was a mess. In the entirety of his life, he had never been this scared as he was now. The fear of losing Y/n to his best friend – Bucky Barnes, who was more like a brother to him. It all began at the party – that damned party, he had been cursing the time he had concurred to it cause the moment he saw Y/n laughing out loud at something Bucky had said in her ear, he regretted his decision. He didn’t know what took over him – perhaps jealousy, or no he couldn’t be jealous of his best friend, so was it his possessiveness? Yeah, he was possessive of the things he loved, and it was his wife, the love of his life. He had spent five years without her, it was only fair to label the knot in his stomach as acquisitiveness. But it didn’t go away. He put out all the stops to not feel it but as if every time he closed his eyes the scene would flash in slow motion leaving him gasp for air.

Steve knew that he was shutting Y/n out, he knew that he was fracturing one of the touchstones in their relationship by not communicating with her about what had been pestering him. He couldn’t just tell her that he didn’t like it, that he felt like a sixteen-year-old frail, skinny and sickly Steve who couldn’t get the girls, he couldn’t tell her that he was scared that he might lose her again. And she was the only one he couldn’t bow out on. She was the air he breathed. He had told her nth times during their relationship that she was the love of his life, but he couldn’t tell her that in last three weeks when she was in dire need of hearing those sweet words from him.

When Liam started Junior Kindergarten, Steve also began volunteering at his school during lunch hours and one of those days during pickup time he was offered a part time job offer as an art teacher for grade 4 and 5. He was reluctant to accept initially but Natasha pushed him to get a life and do something he used to enjoy. After the battle when everyone came back from the snap, he wanted to quit but when he saw the happiness in Y/n’s eyes upon knowing that he’d been working as an art teacher at their son’s school she told him she couldn’t be prouder of him.

“Dad… would you to talk to mama about having a pet?” Liam shook his forearm gently retreating him back.

“y-yeah! Mama’s called Uncle Happy to pick you up after school. I’ve something to work on… is that okay bubba... and I will talk to your mother, don’t worry about it.” He smiled at his son.

“Ahuh.”

Steve chuckled, grabbing their bags from the back seat, he walked towards the kinder pen with Liam’s hand in his. It’s going to be okay he kept repeating under his breath.

~*~

“Holy shit! Steeeve!” Y/n exclaimed with his mouth full of cheesecake that melted in her mouth. Five months into dating, Steve had brought her down to Brooklyn bridge for their date and they were cozied up in a corner booth of a small diner.

“… this is delicious.” She took another bite of her cheesecake.

“I’m glad you like it.” Steve smiled, looking down at her adoringly. She was licking the spoon.

“I’ve never had a cheesecake this piquant in my entire life. I loved it….” She leaned into him more, resting her head on his chest, his arm came to wrap around her.

“Would you ask them to pack another one for take away as well.”

Steve laughed, kissing her on the forehead, “I already did.”

“What? How’d you know that I’d say it?” She slightly moved to look up at him and gently traced the contours of his face with her thumb.

“Well…” he just shrugged with a smile that made her propped up a bit and placed a kiss on his neck just below his ear. An involuntary growl escaped his lips catching both off guard. Steve’s face reddened, making her smirk grow wider. Avoiding a playful glint in her eyes, he dropped his gaze to his lap and sighed.

“Steve, hey, look at me.” She softly lifted his face towards her and placed her lips onto his pecking him softly. He returned the gesture immediately.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” her soft eyes looking deeply into his blue orbs, “…at least now I know what to do, you know.” She chuckled lightly, trying to ease him up. Intertwining their fingers, she smiled, adoration for him was crystal clear in her eyes and Steve realized that there was no point in holding back. He’d been feeling way too deeply for her for quite some time but seeing into her beautiful eyes, shining with affection for him, he wanted to open to her.

“I think I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

She was as shocked as he was after blurting out his feelings.

“Say something, please.” He whispered after staring into each other’s eyes for longer than they should have.

“What? Why?” her breath hitched, and she tried to create some distance between them.

“I didn’t mean to scare you… it’s just…” He looked into her eyes again, they were expectant, “… you’re my best friend, Y/n, I don’t have a reason enough to give you as to why I feel what I feel for you. It’s just… my heart fills with happiness when I’m with you, you make me happy.” Steve’s eyes were starting to get moist and so was hers.

“…you give me purpose to be just Steve, not a hero, not an avenger, I’m just me when I’m with you.”

“Steve…” she closed her eyes and in the same moment he pressed his lips on her forehead.

“You don’t have to say anything… It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, and it is also okay if you don’t say it back.” He smiled with teary eyes, “with you, I feel like a twenty-seven-year-old guy who wanted a life, stability, home… a family of his own. This job, and the weight of this title I’ve been carrying around, wouldn’t let me drown in the darkness when you’re with me, Y/n. You’re my daylight!”

He tucked a strand behind her ear, caressing her cheek gently, his smile not leaving his face as if he knew what was going on in her mind. He knew her all too well. Her lips slightly parted, eyes holding disbelief and mind processing his confession – she was breathtakingly gorgeous to him. He knew it was not easy for her to assert her emotions; she had told him before they started dating that falling in love and losing that person was the only thing that scared her the most.

Nick Fury took her under his wing when her parents, also SHIELD agents, were murdered by Hydra. She was only seventeen and had nowhere to go. Her parents left her a hefty amount of money but somehow Tony had influenced her to continue her education at MIT, she was a genius just like her mother. Natasha and Clint became her family, they’d treat her like a younger sibling. Passing their skills on her, she was recruited to Shield at the age of nineteen and She didn’t look back after that, she dealt with her grief by making it her only purpose to avenge the murder of her parents until she met Steve.

She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. There was an undeniable chemistry between them, they’d finish each other’s sentences. Steve was the first one to make the move, he asked her for something more than a friendship – a relationship. He came clean with what he’d been feeling for her. He told her that he wanted her to be more than a friend, almost freaking her out but the moment he held her hands in his and asked her to trust him and she did. There was something in his cerulean eyes that resolved her stance, and she finally allowed herself to feel all the emotions that had been there in her heart. To her surprise, a flood of all the raw emotions came crashing into her veins and left her speechless. Taking a step forward, she latched her lips onto his in a mind-blowing kiss. Their first kiss.

And snuggled in the corner booth of this small diner in Brooklyn, she was stunned and speechless, no witty or sarcastic response came to her. Heck, she didn’t even know if it was love that she’d been feeling for him. Her heart raced as it dawned on her that this man lounging before the very eyes of her possessed her whole world. Now, she couldn’t envisage herself without him, so she did exactly what she thought was uncomplicated, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. She’d never been good with words, so she poured all her feelings into the kiss. She let him know that she belonged to him and only him.

~*~

Y/n smiled to herself as she set the dining table for the two of them with Steve’s favorite dishes she’d made. Giving one final look to the exquisite spread out, she glanced at her watch and slowly made her way to the ensuite bathroom. After a quick shower she came out in a bath robe and foraged through their closet. She was looking for something comfortable yet alluring but at the same time she wanted to try to look desirable to Steve. It had been almost a month since they’d had sex, the longest they’d gone in normal circumstances. Ever since they’d had sex for the first time, they’d been insatiable for each other. There was a hitch during Steve’s nomad days, at the same time she was pregnant with Liam James, but they still managed to get their way with each other. As she skimmed through her side of the closet, a burgundy cardigan caught her eye, and a bright smile appeared on her lips.

Steve had found her lying on the window alcove in her bedroom. Her eyes were fixed on the screen of her iPad, but a smile appeared on her pretty lips when she heard him coming in.

“There you are.” Steve walked over with a smile and plopped down close to her, placing her feet in his lap. “G’morning, sweetheart!” Steve leaned in pecking her lips softly.

“Mhm… morning Stevie.” She chuckled at his playful frown over his nick name given by her. “How was the run?” she asked with her eyes still fixed on the screen.

“Same…” Steve said, knowing full well that it’d get her attention. She looked up from the screen to see him with a shit eating grin on his face.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Putting away the iPad she launched herself at him, giggling all the while.

“Knew what? I don’t know what you’re taking about.” He asked with faux innocence, as he stretched his arm out to get her accommodated in his side.

“Yeah right! You love getting my attention, Stevie.” She wiggled her eyebrows sprightly.

“That’s because I love you and it’s only fair to have you all for me on quiet day like this.” Honesty in his voice melted her heart and she snuggled into him more as if there was any space left between them. It had only been a couple of days Steve had laid his feelings bare for her and ever since then he had never missed a moment to avow his love for her.

“So, what’s your plan for today? Obviously other than cracking codes…”

A loud gasp escaped her lips in mocked horror as she elbowed him in the ribs, “That’s accusation! I wasn’t doing such a thing.”

He chuckled, “I believe you.” a hint of mirth evident in his voice. She slightly pushed him and got up, but Steve gently pulled her down on his lap, caging her in his arms.

“What’s on your mind, Rogers?” She raised an eyebrow, cheerily.

“You!” He pulled her closer on his lap, so now her core was on his groin. “You’re always on my mind, sweetheart.” Huskiness in his voice sent a chill down her body as her cheeks turned red. Cupping his cheeks softly, she leaned in but just as he closed his eyes and covered the small distance between them, she moved to kiss him on the neck below his ear. Steve groaned and she burst into giggles, “You’re a tease, I see.” Steve chuckled.

“Whatcha gonna do ‘bout it?” She shrugged playfully. Squeezing her hips, Steve nipped at the skin of her neck making her squeal. It was his turn to laugh at her now pouted lips. She shifted on his lap connecting their lips in a kiss, but before he could deepen it, she pulled away with a smile.

“That’s what I had in mind.” Steve placed his forehead on hers with a smile that matched hers.

“So, you wana spend the day making out on the window bench…” She moved to place kisses along his jaw and neck, tilting his head he gave her access as she nipped and grazed the sensitive skin of his neck, leaving dark pink marks. Steve felt himself hardening beneath her, he was definitely turned on by her sweet assault but when was he not. The smallest of things she’d do in her day-to-day life turned him on, made him feel like a horny teenager.

“I’d prefer bed, but if you’re comfy in my lap….” She pinched him in the arm making him laugh harder. She jumped off his lap shaking her head at him and walked towards her closet, Steve hot on his heels, held her hand in his and turned her around to face him and connecting their lips the instant she was face to face with him. Deepening the kiss, he scooped her up and walked towards the bed, laying her down gently on the bed, he hovered above her. With the kiss growing more heated, her hand traveled down his back pulling the hem of his white t-shirt, Steve broke the kiss to take the shirt off. Both breathing heavily, as her hands gently roamed the length of his back, the warm and soft skin of her palms made him shudder under her touch. He put his forehead on hers, still panting slightly.

“I love you…” He whispered, ever so softly.

“I want you, Steve…” She looked up at him, clearly surprised at her own boldness. “… I-If only you want it too, obviously.” The nervousness in her voice and the look on her face made him kiss her one more time before he got off her and off the bed and almost jogged towards the door and locked it from inside. She laughed, looking at him amusingly, her eyes raking over, appreciating the muscles and contours of her shirtless boyfriend. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him without shirt, in almost six months of dating they had made out on the couch, on the bed, on the kitchen counter in tower’s kitchen. He had seen her in just her bra, he had kissed and nibbled the skin of her neck and just above her breast leaving the purple marks she had carried so proudly, making sure to subtly flaunt the hickies he gave her whenever and wherever she could.

“You know, its rude to stare.” He smirked as he flopped down by her on the bed, his hand resting on her stomach as he leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead.

“You know, you could’ve asked JARVIS to lock the door.” She teased him.

“Oh!” Steve smiled bashfully, as his hands moved to lightly touch her sides. Oh, he knew that spot would do.

“Steeeve…” she broke into a fit of laughter as he began tickling her softly. In simple leggings and ruffled knit burgundy cardigan, she was stunning, and Steve was having a hard time keeping his hands off her. She laughed and squirmed beneath his touch, placing her hands on his naked chest and lightly pushed him. He stopped immediately and looked into her eyes, his gaze intense and pupil semi dilated, “I want you too, Y/n… been wanting you for quite a while now.” He whispered, lips brushing the crown, her hair pushed back by his long fingers and tucked gently behind her ears. Heat rose to her face as she placed a palm on his cheek, and he moved closer to her, his chest aching with affection.

She studied his eyes, she was always so taken by the blue in his eyes, touched with a little green, if only she knew he was just as taken by all the minor details of her.

“Why didn’t you say it before?” She traced the corner of his lips with her thumb.

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I couldn’t bring my wants before yours, sweetheart.” He smiled, “I wanted you to want me, just as much as I’ve wanted you.”

“Steve…” she mumbled, her eyes moist with the affection and warmth she was feeling in that very moment for him.

“I know, sweetheart, you don’t have to say it, I know.” He connected their lips in a kiss that was just like thunder before a storm. Slow and sultry. Steve moved to hover above her, the kiss crackled like lightning now. Urgent. Consuming. Her soft hands were like fire on his skin, his lips charged on her neck, shoulders and chest. A soft whimper escaped her mouth, and he answered by pressing his need against her tongue and between her thighs. He yanked the hem of her cardigan instead of unbuttoning it, she chuckled at his eagerness and pulled the cardigan over her head. Steve swallowed as he touched her, his big warm hands skating across her skin bringing goosebumps in their wake. She slid her arms around his neck, stared into his eyes and smiled.

“Move your hands up, Steve.”

One eyebrow raising, he did as he was asked, when she nodded for him to keep going. Her cheeks turned crimson when his fingers came to rest at the clasp of her bra, he chuckled quietly, taking hold of the straps and gently yanked it off. Steve let out a long exhale as he stared at her, her eyes slid closed as he moved closer, and a breath caught in her throat.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Y/n nodded, opening her eyes to see him staring down at her ensuring that she was okay. She smiled, lifting her chin and pressed a kiss on his lips. Steve kissed her back eagerly as he let his palm cup her breast. Her hand reached down to undo his belt and then unbutton his jeans. Steve broke the kiss and moved to rest his forehead against hers as he watched her pulling the zipper down.

With a shaky exhale, he connected their lips again and slid his fingers under the waistband of her leggings, he knelt, and she sucked in a breath as he slowly pulled her leggings down, standing up only to push his jeans off, he stepped out of them. He dipped down to press his lips against the center of her chest as she felt him kiss his way down her body. She trembled when she felt his fingers slide under the waistband of her panties, she lifted her hips to help him take them off.

“Sweetheart… breathe.”

She didn’t know she was holding her breath. She nodded, taking Steve’s hand in hers and lacing their fingers.

“Steve, please.” She whispered, kept a tight hold of his hand, a shocked gasp left her when his tongue slipped through her folds, he did it again only for her to whimper. Lifting her one leg to rest on his shoulder, his perfect nose nudging her clit as he continued his ministrations with his tongue. It was all new for him, he hadn’t done it before but her whispered oh my god was encouraging him to do his best. She tugged her hand in his hair, a soft growl rumbled in his chest, his hand moved to gently grasp her breast.

Oh, he loved fondling her breasts.

“Steve.” She moaned, oh that beautiful sound of hers, a gasp escaped her lips when she felt his tongue in her heat. Her hand tightened in his hair and Steve increased his efforts. She groaned loudly when Steve gently pushed one finger into her, and his fingertip brushed across the spot that made her feel every muscle in her body tighten and bliss filled her veins. Steve closed his eyes as her breathy chants of his name warmed his heart and when the euphoric wave of pleasure jolted her body, he gently moved to hover over her again.

Her eyes wide as she stared into his, and all he could see was love. She loved him, she hadn’t said anything yet, but he knew she did.

“You’re so good, you made me feel so good.”

Steve’s eyes widened, eyebrows raising and she felt her cheeks burning when she realized what had come out of her mouth. They both laughed as she took a hold of his face, bringing it down to connect their lips. Steve settled his body on top of hers and she moaned into his mouth, letting her hands travel down his neck, his shoulders and to his waist. She moved her hips, chuckling when Steve groaned.

Breaking the kiss, Steve nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, reveling in her warmth as his hips rubbed against hers. She gasped and he opened his eyes to see her grinning.

“You’re making me wait, Steve.”

“My apologies, ma’am.” His smile matched hers as he sat up to take off his boxers. He kneeled between her legs and caught her eye. She nodded with a shy smile, and he hovered over her, again, her arms wove around him as they kissed, she dug her nails as he started to push inside her. She moaned when he pushed in deeper, his groan mixed with hers when he bottomed out. She broke from the kiss just to breathe; he was pressing gentle kisses to her cheek and forehead until she nodded. He groaned loudly when she clenched around him, shaking his head he hissed softly, “Y/n…”

“Move, Steve! move… you’re torturing me.”

“Eager much, eh!” He laughed and started moving slowly. Her moan radiating through him, “I love you, Y/n. God, I love you so much.” He groaned again as her hips worked to meet his.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart.”

“I love you.”

“I adore you.”

Tears came to her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to kiss him. Steve increased his thrusts and her orgasm taken her by surprise as much as the first one. Steve groaned as she clenched around him so tightly, he could barely move, as he buried his face in her neck, she came undone breathing his name. A deep moan rumbled up from his chest, his hips stilling as he finished himself inside her.

After a minute or two of rest, Steve shifted slightly, his length no longer hard but still buried inside her.

“Sweetheart?”

No answer.

“You with me, Y/n?”

Still no answer.

Steve pushed himself up on his elbow to check on her, only to see her with tearful eyes. Panic surged into his body as he tried to get up, but she wrapped her legs around him, not letting him move.

“You, okay? Y/n? hey, talk to me, sweetheart. A-are you hurt? Did I hurt you? was it too mu – “

“Stevie, stop!” She scolded him, tugging at his blonde locks gently. “I – I’m… I’m so happy and I’ve never been this happy in the last ten years and it’s because of you. You make me happy, Steve.” her voice wavered, Steve leaned down to kiss on her forehead and let her continue, “… and its not because we’ve just had sex… you’ve always made me feel so full of life, and… I don’t know what I’m trying to say here but you’re so precious to me.”

“Hey, I get what you’re sayin’, I’m here with you, I’ll always be here, sweetheart. I love you and I know you love me too,” he grinned, “I know you won’t say it and I won’t push you either but FYI,” he raised one eyebrow, “I’ve known it for quite some time now.”

She pushed him as if he would budge, and that made Steve laugh out loud, she scowled at him, and he leaned down to capture her lips in his. His hands sliding up and down the side of her body, cupping her breasts as he shifted again, she gasped in his mouth when she felt him hardening inside her, her hand slid down to cup his glorious ass as she gave it a gentle squeeze making him moan in return.

The morning stretched into afternoon, and so was their lovemaking, until Tony sent a search party for them since JARVIS was unable to provide the whereabouts of the love birds. Their blissful cocoon was interrupted by the loud banging on her bedroom door and a warning from Nat to get their asses out of the bed and get to the meeting that was supposed to begin four hours ago before Tony would use one of his Repulsor to bust their door open.

Y/n saw the reflection of her in the mirror and smiled softly. She had put on the same burgundy cardigan with black leggings, her hair in beautiful loose curls, she applied mascara on her lashes and lip gloss on her lips all while humming her favorite song. Her simple casual outfit held the most cherishing memory of their first time having sex together, that day she felt completely healed, he made her whole, made her see a future she always wanted but didn’t know she could have it. Steve kept all the promises he made while loving on her that day, he made all her dreams of living a simple life come true, together they built a life outside of the avenging world, they made this house their home, got married, had a kid; well LJ was a little surprise for both.

She glanced at the clock and made her way downstairs into the kitchen. It was quarter to four and Steve would be there any minute. She poured wine into the glasses and took a seat on of the chairs.

~*~

Steve’s thoughts were a whirlwind – guilt, fear, confusion. He couldn’t focus on anything long enough to make sense of it. Everything felt too big, too much and his mind kept spiraling further out of control.

Why did she plan a dinner for just the two of them?

Did she have to say something?

What if she’d ask for a divorce?

Every time she smiled at him, that familiar warmth in her eyes, a wave of guilt hit him. He wanted to reach out, to tell her everything, but how could he? How could he burden her with the weight of his own mess when she’d done nothing but love him?

His temples throbbed with a dull ache, his neck stiff from the tension that had been building for hours. His stomach churned, not from hunger, but from gnawing anxiety that wouldn’t let go. Every time he tried to focus on the good, positive, his thoughts fractured into more questions, more doubts, until the weight of them seemed to crush him. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white as he missed the exit on the highway that would have taken him to her, his home.

He drove further into the city, his eyes darted from the chaos outside. The streets of New York were alive, a pulse that vibrated through the steel and concrete like an electrical current. The car jerked forward, then slowed to a crawl, wedged between two delivery trucks. A taxi honked impatiently behind him, but he couldn’t move—there was nowhere to go. Pedestrians darted between vehicles, their feet tapping on the pavement like a staccato beat to the city’s rhythm. Every turn seemed blocked by a sea of cars, their drivers all fighting for a sliver of space in the concrete jungle. He could feel the pulse of the city in every inch of the traffic, the pressure building as the seconds ticked by.

She twisted the ring on her finger again, the movement mindless but comforting. Over and over, her fingers ran over the smooth metal, grounding her in the chaos of her thoughts. She knew she should face him, talk to him, but the thought of saying the words out loud terrified her. So, she stayed silent, focusing on the small, circular motions instead. The sound of the clock ticking on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second an unbearable reminder of how much time he was wasting.

[hyorijie]

Hi, I don't know if you're doing any requests at the moment, but if you are, can you do an Alastor x Reader where Reader and Alastor were Ex-lovers from their past life, and then they meet again, when Charlie decides to host a Halloween speed dating event, and the two are paired together?

I loved your request, I hope you like it. ♡

Between masks and shades

Alastor x Reader - Halloween date

Tags Ex-lovers, Speed dating, Halloween decorating, Awkward conversations, memories, masks, Alastor is not good with his feelings, resolutions, a bit of angst.

The darkest season of the year was beginning to make its way into the underworld. The air thick with malice, it seemed to tremble with anticipation, as if even in this corner a rare thrill was allowed with the arrival of Halloween.

Amidst the loosely controlled chaos, Charlie, Princess Morningstar, glimpsed a unique opportunity - what better time than Halloween to unite the hotel's inhabitants in something different? While convincing them would not be easy, she knew she could excite anyone with enough conviction.

So the idea was born; a Halloween party with a twist, something that would allow the damned souls, if only for one night, to rest in peace from their eternal woes. And its main attraction would be a "Speed Dating" event, an opportunity for ghouls, lost souls and other hotel tenants to establish a connection, a spark of humanity, or at least a fleeting distraction in the midst of purgatory.

Festive posters began to appear in every nook and cranny inside and outside the hotel, covered in cobwebs and smiling pumpkin drawings. They said in big, bold letters, "Find your soul mate! Halloween Speed Dating Event." You found yourself standing in front of one of those posters, looking at it with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. Since your arrival, fitting in had been a painful process.

This place, with its crushing atmosphere, seemed to mock your attempts to live in peace, leaving you mired in frustration. But above all, what kept a spark alive in your heart was the memory of someone special. A love lost in life, a face that kept appearing in your dreams, so clear you could almost feel its presence. That love, irreplaceable and taken away from you, was the only thing that still made you resist in the midst of the gloom. And without realizing how, you were already walking into the hotel lobby, the festive decorations absorbing you in their charm.

Pumpkins glowed with an orange glow, and autumn leaves seemed to float with a life of their own, giving the space an enchanted air. You had the feeling that the hotel itself was breathing. Suddenly, a floating tray glided towards you, with a decorated mask and next to it, a card, it looked like something custom-made. The startling glow called to you, and engraved in incandescent glare could be read, "To know true love, you must know the soul."

You took the mask, feeling the smooth texture under your fingers, and put it on, noticing how it fit your face perfectly, almost transforming who you were into someone else. It was then that a cheerful voice echoed through the room.

—Welcome! — A glowing figure at the front of the room exclaimed. It was Charlie, his hair contrasting dramatically against a golden mask and a red dress that seemed to glow with his enthusiasm. —Thank you all for participating in this event. The dynamic is simple; ten minutes per appointment. As the bell rings, they switch tables and continue to get to know each other.

Some residents looked around with the same mix of skepticism and curiosity as you, but Charlie's energy was contagious, filling the room with unusual anticipation.

The tables were arranged in small circles around the room, each decorated with candles, offering a warm ambiance in the midst of what for many was a rather uncomfortable gathering.

With the mask on your face and a slight tremor in your chest, you approached your first table. Your first encounter was with a demon with an arrogant bearing, who seemed in his element. He wore a flashy outfit, crossing one leg over the other as an arrogant smirk played across his lips.

— I suppose you've already noticed —he said, leaning towards you —that I'm not exactly the discreet type. Eternity is best enjoyed when you don't limit yourself.

He spoke of himself with a confidence that bordered on haughtiness, recounting his exploits with an almost disinterested looseness in your response. His eyes sparkled with a mischievousness that was intended to be seductive, but in reality only generated discomfort that bordered on displeasure. Nevertheless, you listened to him with a polite smile, but your mind was far away from there, wishing the minutes would run out.

This is definitely not my type. you thought.

Finally, the bell rang and you hurried to change tables, letting out a sigh of relief. In front of you, you found a petite, vibrant figure, whose single eye glittered with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Her voice was quick and high-pitched, almost a torrent of enthusiasm that seemed to overflow from her.

—This is kind of exciting! I can hardly wait to meet you! — she exclaimed, her words flowing with an energy that was hard to follow. — Did you know I love cleaning, I could spend hours organizing things and looking for bugs!

Her enthusiasm was so palpable that, while endearing, it began to overwhelm you. You struggled to keep up with her chatter, but each passing second increased your confusion, caught up in her maelstrom of words.

Despite your good intentions, every second of that conversation felt like a messy whirlwind of words and energy. The bell rang again, releasing you from that strange appointment, you felt an immediate indescribable relief. After just two encounters, you were exhausted and decided you needed a break.

The bustle of the tables, the hurried interactions, and the unusually lively tone of the event were beginning to wear on you. You got up from the table, sketching an apologetic smile, and slipped into the shadows of the lobby hoping to find the restroom or some secluded corner to regain your composure.

However, as you walked down a dimly lit hallway, something caught your eye. A slightly ajar door. Curiosity got the better of you and, without thinking too much, you pushed it, inside, a small room could be glimpsed. And right in the center of the room, a demon was sitting in a velvet armchair.

He held a newspaper and beside him rested a steaming cup of tea on a delicately carved small table. He was elegantly and neatly dressed, accentuated by the red of the dress. Instantly you knew who he was; infamous radio demon. He was such an enveloping and disturbing presence at the same time, he made the air in the room feel charged with a barely contained intensity.

He seemed oblivious to the bustle of the event in the hall, immersed in an absolute tranquility contrasting with the frenetic atmosphere of speed dating. He didn't look up when you walked in, so immersed in his reading or perhaps... as if he had been waiting.

—Well, well... you seem to have found something much more interesting than speed dating —commented a deep, resonant voice, full of strange musicality. He lowered the paper with a smile that had the clear purpose of disarming anyone who confronted him, a sly, calculated smile.

You felt the air in the room grow thicker. Alastor's calmness, his relaxed posture and his gaze that seemed to see beyond appearances, was disconcerting. There was something about his presence that not only unsettled, but created a kind of almost hypnotic fascination.

— I didn't expect to find something like this at the event...—You finally answered, your voice sounding more fragile than you would have liked.

Alastor tilted his head, studying you with a curiosity that was hard to decipher. His smile never disappeared, and there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. Though you had heard of Alastor and knew on good authority of his fearsome reputation, you were unprepared for the intensity of his presence in person. His look...everything about him projected a sweet, veiled menace beneath a layer of impeccable politeness.

All the rumors had not been exaggerated; he was absolutely dangerous. And yet, seeing him at that moment, wrapped in unnerving tranquility, made you feel captivated by the enigmatic atmosphere that surrounded him.

You noticed a soft melody, a jazz that seemed to emanate from the walls. The subtle melody, one that added an unexpected calmness to the space, as if this little corner was protected from the hustle and bustle. Your senses relaxed enough to make you forget, for a moment, where you really were.

Calmly, you decided to sit across from Alastor, in a delicate balance between curiosity and caution. It was then that you noticed that he was not wearing a mask, unlike the attendants, but in his case, he didn't need one. His very presence was shrouded in a mystery that not even a mask could intensify. Subtly, he finally slid the paper away, the amusement on his face was carved in an appraisal, a subtle communication of asking himself what to do with you.

— I don't remember seeing you anywhere, which makes me wonder...are you lost, my dear? — he uttered, his voice further emphasizing the resonance that achieved an electrifying static around him. It was a rich, melodious, enchanting voice.

Despite his question, you still felt you were in the speed dating frame, you forced a polite smile, trying to answer naturally.

—No, I'm not lost, I guess. I just took a break from the main room and, without realizing it, ended up here. I guess it's my turn... right?— You replied with slight doubt settling in your tone. Alastor, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow, amused at your response.

"Your turn?" he repeated, as if he found the very idea extremely hilarious. Curious, he thought, watching you with an intensity that made you feel naked.

—My dear —He continued, with that smile that now seemed to widen just a little more. —Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not part of that little speed dating show. I don't usually get involved in such... ephemeral activities. —His voice deepened as she uttered that last word, as if reminding him of how insignificant he found such events. Then he paused, allowing you to process his words.

— But I must admit, I was intrigued. How did you get here? —You looked at him carefully.

Now somewhat more alert, you looked at him intently. His every word, his every pause, seemed carefully chosen, like a game in which only he understood the rules. There was something about that controlled calm that you found disconcerting. Still, your polite nature held you steady.

— Well, I wasn't looking for anything in particular. I'm simply following my intuition, and that brought me here...— you said, with a studied but sincere naturalness.— And here we are.

Alastor let out a soft, resonant laugh, one that seemed to drift through the air like the jazz melody that filled the room, enveloping the words in a subtle undercurrent of irony.

— Oh, of course... here we are. — he repeated, settling back in his chair, his interest clearly piqued by your words. His eyes narrowed just slightly, flashing with that teasing sparkle as he continued, —So, what do you think of this evening? I should imagine you've had some... rather memorable encounters.— The mocking tone and innuendo in his voice brought to mind some of the more flamboyant characters you had met that night.

You thought of the arrogant demon and the chaotic Nifty, and a wry smile tugged at your lips.

—Memorable is a good way to describe it. —you admitted sincerely. — Although, to be honest, I'm not sure this kind of event is my thing.

Alastor watched you silently, with a look that, oddly enough, seemed to soften. There was something akin to approval in his eyes, as if your answer had fulfilled some unseen expectation.

—Wise choice,— he commented, leaning a little closer, letting a hint of satisfaction show in his tone. —The true meeting of souls rarely happens in ten minutes... and certainly not in a room full of masks.— Leaning forward, his gaze deepened, as if in that moment he could see beyond your words, into some corner of you that he was barely aware of having shown.

— I'm surprised, then, that you haven't run off yet.— he added, in a kind of subtle challenge that made you raise your chin in intrigue. You looked back at him, searching his expression for some clue beyond his words.

—And why haven't you? —you replied, returning his challenge with the same intensity.Alastor interlaced his fingers calmly, never taking his eyes from yours, as if analyzing every nuance in your expression before answering.

—Ah, my dear,— he replied at last, his voice dark and melodious.—I don't run away from anything. I simply observe, I enjoy myself... and, on occasion, I find something or someone worth a closer look.

Again, the silence became dense and palpable, but far from being uncomfortable, it felt like a space suspended in time, an intangible place where you both lingered in that delicate game of words and glances. The soft music seemed to dissipate, blurring reality and making you feel that, for the first time in the night, you were in front of someone -or something- that really captured your attention, daring you to stay, to discover what else was behind his invisible mask.

—So...— continued Alastor, leaning in a little closer, his eyes like dark mirrors in which you seemed to lose yourself, — What are you really looking for in this little game?

Under the spell of the soft music and the intensity Alastor exuded, you let the moment take hold of you. The atmosphere was a refuge amidst the chaos, a corner of introspection where, for an instant, the frenetic event around you ceased to exist.

You found yourself questioning what you were really looking for, a question so elementary and simple, but which at that very moment felt immense.Without knowing why, you caught yourself reflecting out loud. The words flowed as if they were waiting for that exact moment to be released, loaded with an almost painful honesty.

—I don't know...— you said, with a hesitation that was more real than you had felt in a long time, — I'm not here looking for someone, or love, if that's what you mean. — You hesitated for a second, but in the end you decided to lower your gaze, looking at the texture of the table as if in it you could find answers.— But something, I don't know what, brought me here.

The confession slipped from your lips like a whisper, a secret released as much to yourself as to him. It was a thought you had not articulated before, and as you said it aloud, you were overcome with a sense of relief, yet also uncertainty.

The silence that followed was so palpable that you could almost touch it, but in an unexpectedly comforting way. It was a dense silence, but far from being uncomfortable; it was the kind of pause that, far from filling you with words, seemed to invite you to immerse yourself even more in that unique and sincere exchange. In the semi-darkness, the light barely managed to bring out the gleam in Alastor's eyes, who did not look away from you.

His eyes watched you with an intensity that, for the first time, you did not perceive as a power play or a calculated maneuver. Behind his enigmatic smile there was something deeper, a spark of genuine interest that puzzled you, as if your vulnerability had resonated with something he understood in his innermost being.

You didn't know what it was exactly, but in his silence and the way he looked at you, you sensed an unexpected connection.Alastor barely tilted his head, studying you with that captivating curiosity, as if he was valuing every word, every pause. His eyes, dark and enigmatic, never left yours, and in that moment you felt that he also showed you, perhaps unintentionally, a part of his true self.

—It is not common to find sincerity in the midst of a night of disguises.— he finally commented, his voice low and rich in nuance, each word spoken with a cadence that seemed to carry a special weight.

That calm that surrounded him, that strange peace he exuded, made you feel that he understood, even if he didn't say so explicitly.

For a second, the melody seemed to intensify around you, enveloping you both in an intimate and unreal space, a corner away from the world. The music and the gloom seemed to protect that confession, as if they had shared something sacred and Alastor had received it with a silent but profound respect.

He slid his hand, slowly, toward the center of the table, an implicit invitation, an offer of connection beyond words. He watched you with that same unfathomable intensity, his gaze like an abyss inviting you to enter unreservedly. And then, in that melodious, resonant voice, he spoke again:

— Sometimes, my dear...—he whispered, as if sharing a secret, — what we find is more important than what we seek.

His words hung between you, and you realized that, on that strange night, in that secluded and mysterious corner, you had found something more than a stranger. You had found a dark mirror in which you reflected yourself, and though you found it disturbing, you could not look away.

Now, immersed in the crushing and enveloping atmosphere, you found yourself watching him with a new intensity. Every detail about him, from his suit to the subtlety of his gestures, took you back to buried memories, images of a time that was once yours, but already seemed faded in your memory. There was something about his elegance that, as you looked at him closely, evoked a feeling in you, a sense of familiarity.

That thought, as regretful as it was revealing, made you feel an irresistible impulse, an urge to break the spell and voice aloud the suspicion that was hovering in your mind. With a subtle effort not to appear too intrigued, you muster your courage and allow the words to flow.

—Tell me…—you began, noticing that your voice was soft, almost a whisper— in life, were you… also from the thirties?

The question was direct, but there was a naturalness in the tone that seemed to be that of someone who recognizes a reflection in another person. As you asked it, your eyes remained fixed on him, waiting for some reaction, something that would confirm what, deep down, you already sensed. Because he not only seemed to be out of tune with that modern era; his bearing, his manners, that elegance carefully woven into every gesture... everything about him evoked a time that had been left behind, and that, somehow, you both shared.

Alastor let out a low, resonant laugh, a sound that spread through the room like the echo of an old radio crackling, almost tangible in the gloom around them. The laughter was brief, but in it you sensed something that seemed more than mere amusement: there was a spark of recognition, as if he had been waiting for that question and was pleased that you had taken the first step to ask it.

—Ah, wow...— he replied, without losing his characteristic enigmatic tone.— Very perceptive. Yes, I come from that era, and I must say that it is a pleasure to know that my essence has not been forgotten, even in these... accelerated times.

His words carried with them a kind of covert nostalgia, a hint of melancholy that, though barely perceptible, made you feel that you shared something more than a common era. He too seemed to remember that time with a mixture of disdain and longing, as if what you had both left behind was something unattainable, but indelible.

Alastor would look at you with a renewed intensity, that same spark of genuine interest in his eyes that you had sensed before, but now even sharper. It was as if, in that simple confession, he had allowed you to glimpse a part of his being, a fragment of the person he had been in life. The tension between you became more intimate and meaningful, as if that small revelation had created an unspoken bond, an understanding that transcended time and space.

— And so do you, I see...— He continued, in a tone that seemed to slide like a dark caress.

Alastor did not look away, and in his smile there was a subtle satisfaction, an almost pleased expression.Alastor's statement took you by surprise, shocking your perception and bringing back memories you had long since relegated to oblivion.

Although you had met many personalities in hell, each from different eras, rarely had anyone immediately noticed your origin, especially in a place and at a time like that. Most souls, like you, adapted to the dizzying pace of modern times; but Alastor, on the other hand, seemed absolutely adamant about renouncing his roots, that 1930s essence that permeated his every gesture, his every look.

His revelation awakened in you a torrent of contradictory sensations. You had forgotten what it meant to be recognized by the era that, in life, defined you. You had become so accustomed to the present time that, strange though it was, the past felt distant. But now, in front of him, those memories took shape again, and a part of you recognized yourself in that deliberate nostalgia, in that resistance to the expiration of what once was.

Alastor kept his eyes on you, watching you with an intensity that seemed to scan beyond appearances. His smile, even more enigmatic now, contained a kind of quiet satisfaction, as if the fact that you shared that time had solidified a special bond. He seemed pleased, perhaps because, somehow, seeing in you an ancient essence reaffirmed his own.

—Curious, isn't it?—he commented, leaning slightly towards you, just enough for his words to come through as an intimate whisper.— There's something about those times that's impossible to forget. Although... I guess some people just decide to leave it behind.

His tone was a challenge, an invitation to explore the background of what he had left behind. And though you were tempted to reply, to offer a defense for having adopted the rhythms of the present, deep down you knew that would be an incomplete explanation.

In the reflection of his words there was a truth you could not deny: perhaps you had left that era behind in an attempt to fit into modern eternity. But as you looked at him, so steeped in his original essence, you wondered if, at some point, you had lost something fundamental in the process.

Yourself...

The jazz in the background changed to a slower tempo, as if the atmosphere itself sensed the intimate, melancholy tone of the conversation. The music seemed to envelop them in a cocoon of shadows and dim lights, a refuge where both could exist in the limbo of their own memories.

You decided to break the silence, feeling it was time to accept that truth he seemed to see so clearly.

— I think that, with time, one forgets what was... or, at least, decides to leave it behind so as not to become a prisoner of it.— you said, with a sincerity that surprised both you and him. You watched his face, looking for some sign of disagreement or approval, but Alastor simply looked at you, his expression thoughtful and unperturbed.

His recognition brought with it an unexpected flash: a blurred image of someone you once loved. A man who had shared a life with you before oblivion, someone whose features now seemed to reverberate in Alastor's face. His presence, his gaze, even the echo of his voice, seemed to evoke a strange familiarity, like a distorted reflection of that ancient love. Thoughts fragmented in your mind, mingling with past emotions, buried memories and contradictory feelings that, until then, you had not known still inhabited you.

Alastor, for his part, also sensed that disturbance in the peace he had carefully maintained over the years. Since you entered the room, something about you had captured his attention in a way he could not understand. He felt a persistent murmur, an echo of sensations that he had decided to bury some time ago, and that now seemed to crack the heart of indifference he had built around himself. That voice inside him, faint but constant, seemed to murmur to him that in you there was something more, something that was not limited to this night.

They were both silent, caught in that intangible connection that spoke to them of a past that could not be ignored. The notes seemed lower, deeper, like a whisper from their own unconscious, and the gloom of the room felt like a sanctuary where they could confess truths they had preferred to forget.

Finally, you dared to break the stillness, your voice barely a whisper, a truth torn from your soul without permission.

— You... you remind me of him.— the words escaped before you could stop them, revealing more than you had intended to share. Alastor narrowed his eyes, and for the first time, a spark of vulnerability peeked into his gaze. Not irritating; the sly expression that always disappeared, and in its place appeared something you hadn't seen before, a kind of recognition and an inner struggle that was evident to him.

—Him...?— he repeated, quietly, as if that revelation also disarmed him.The echo of your words seemed to reverberate in the room.

In his mind, Alastor also recognized something eerily familiar about you, something he had overlooked, perhaps deliberately. Memories crowded into his mind: images of someone who had also meant something important in his mortal life, of a time he had left behind, or so he had wanted to believe. But now, in front of you, it was as if that illusion of detachment was beginning to crumble.

Every word, every gesture, every glance seemed to open a small crack in the wall he had built around himself, revealing pieces of a past he had sealed with his own contempt.

Your words, almost whispered, echoed like a forgotten echo, unearthing emotions buried so long ago that you hardly knew they still belonged to you. A flurry of questions and feelings swirled in your mind, confused, uncontrollable. On impulse, your hand moved almost of its own accord, bringing your fingers to your mask. You felt each centimeter revealed expose a part of you that you had learned to hide, as if, in that moment, you were forcing yourself to face the truth you had tried to evade.

Alastor did not look away. Your every move seemed to capture his undivided attention, his eyes burning with an anticipation he could not mask. As you dropped the mask, you could see his face change subtly, reflecting emotions that seemed to find themselves for the first time in his cold, calculating presence. With every millimeter you revealed, you felt him approaching not in distance, but in time, as if you were both about to unveil something shared, a truth that had been waiting in silence.

When the mask finally fell, your eyes met his. You felt naked, exposed, and yet there was a serenity in the connection that formed in that meeting of gazes. Your eyes, now vulnerable, reflected an unfathomable melancholy, the same melancholy you found in his gaze that is only seen between two souls that share the same weight. It was a deep sadness, a mark of time and the lives they had left behind. In those eyes of Alastor, you recognized something more than a simple affinity; you saw a reflection of yourself, a familiar shadow, as if in some corner of the past their destinies had intertwined.

The room hung in a dense silence, filled with an unconfessed understanding, a recognition that both of you could barely hold. Alastor's gaze remained fixed on your naked face, free of masks, vulnerable before him. It seemed as if his eyes devoured every detail, seeking confirmation in every feature that could bring back the fragments of his dormant memory. In a corner of his being, a spark of nostalgia flared, timid flames that threatened to consume him in the storm of what he once was.

You, however, felt a violent bewilderment. Every scattered fragment of memory in your mind began to fit into patterns that were painfully familiar. You stood motionless, caught between disbelief and the bitterness of revelation. This demon before you, this being known for his cruelty and malice, bore in his eyes the reflection of a lost time that, in some corner of your soul, still burned like embers. His eyes, that very specific way with which he looked at you, brought up memories you thought buried, faces and sounds that now emerged with a clarity that stunned you.

Finally, you broke the silence with a broken and fragile voice, holding your head as if the intensity of those memories were tearing you apart.

—It can't be... you... is it really you?—you whispered, your tone full of bewilderment and pain.

Alastor, whose sharp smile seemed to be his trademark, now transformed it into a crooked line, full of bitter irony. There was pain in his face, yes, but also a hint of relief, a tacit acceptance that lent an unusual gravity to his presence.

—Oh, my dear...— he replied, his voice tinged with a mocking sadness, like a joke that only he understood.— In hell, everything is possible, don't you think. Perhaps this reunion was inevitable.

The tone of his words was so soft that the ironic notes seemed to envelop a heartbreaking truth, a confession to the media. That slight mocking smile, a shield against pain, blurred on his lips as he looked at you, and in the silence that followed, you both seemed to sink into the bitter irony of a love that had begun in secret and now, in hell, showed itself naked and without escape.

His fingers approached yours, trembling, but determined. It was a barely perceptible touch, but with the weight of a repressed eternity.

—After so much... is this all? — you murmured in a broken voice, a thread of resentment in your tone.—You were just a shadow in my memory, a love I never fully knew, someone who disappeared just like that, leaving me with nothing... Was that all for you?

Alastor held your gaze, your eyes now charged with a somber intensity, a restrained pain. Still, his fingers closed around yours, and his words came out low, laden with a sincerity that few had ever heard from him.

—You don't know how much I was waiting for this moment,— he whispered, and the confession was so unexpected, so raw, that you felt your own thoughts freeze. That soft voice, free of the radio effect that characterized him, was the same of the man you had loved, the one who spoke to you in whispers when all was silent. For the first time in an eternity, you felt that the man you loved was really in front of you, that the lost love still had a voice.

A sigh escaped your lips as a lone tear slipped down your cheek. The reality of his absence, of his departure, hit you with renewed force.

—And you don't know how much I feared you would come to remember all this.—he added, almost in a whisper, as if the weight of the confession might crumble him. It was a truth wrapped in fear, in years of darkness, in a loss he never admitted.

The room seemed to hold its breath as they were both caught in the echo of a love that had been interrupted by death, by time, by decisions neither could change. The void he left in your life now seemed to have been filled, but not without the scars of the past.

— Everything was so dark...— you whispered, your voice shaky and barely audible.— When I lost you, it was as if everything went out. As if only shadows and cold remained.

Alastor, without looking away, let his fingers caress your face with an almost sacred reverence, as if he still feared to lose you. In a soft, steady whisper, he replied:

—That darkness, that cold... they were the only thing that could have brought us here. Perhaps only from the shadows can I see you again.

His tenderness, so unexpected and genuine, caused your lips to trace a fragile smile, full of sadness and resignation. You both knew that the road had been dark and full of mistakes, and yet, in this strange destiny, you felt you had returned to the place where you had always belonged: together.

— When I lost you... how could I have imagined that I would see you again, and like this? —You confessed in a voice that seemed to contain a lifetime of pain, of unexpressed love.

He stepped back a little, understanding the weight of your resentment, of the doubt that still throbbed in your chest, and held you firmly, with the assurance of someone who was not going to let you go again.

—Cher... in life we didn't know how to escape. But here we are, and this time, no one can force us apart.— The promise in his words was so firm, so absolute, that they both felt in that instant that hell had brought them together as much as it had separated them.

The room, the time and the darkness seemed to vanish in the embrace that followed.

Everything you had lost and searched for over the years now enveloped you in an impossible relief. It was as if the weight of all those moments lived in each other's absence dissolved in a single instant, as if the eternity you shared in hell was the only truth you had been searching for.

And so, in the silence of the infernal night, they found in the silence of their own pain the only possible peace, and reflection of one in the other, the end of a love that had always been eternal.

Their souls had been searching for each other, until the end of eternity.

Night had fallen softly, covering New Orleans with a blanket of melancholy. The cobblestone streets echoed to the sound of dry leaves blown in swirls by the autumn wind. The air smelled of recent rain, a perfume of damp earth that already seemed part of the city's atmosphere of mystery and nostalgia.

In the distance, in a dark and discreet corner, stood a small old library, its facade barely illuminated by the dim glow of the lamps. Its appearance was that of a refuge forgotten in time, a place that few noticed and where those who sought it could find a secret peace. Here, far from the gaze of others, was where you and Alastor used to meet, two souls caught in a strange spell of proximity and distance.

As you entered, your heart beat faster than usual, as if anticipating something your mind could not yet name. You closed the door carefully, letting the silence settle around you, and your eyes roamed the shelves and shadows until you found the familiar figure of Alastor, in the background, by a window.

He was standing with a book in his hands, immersed in a dim light that seemed to accentuate the enigmatic air of his essence. He was dressed, as always, in his elegant, impeccable suit, and as he looked up at the sound of your footsteps, a sharp smile - so his, so full of secrets - illuminated his face. You felt a tingle in your chest, an unconfessable emotion that he always managed to awaken in you.

At first it was his voice that attracted you: that magnetic softness, enveloping, like a whisper full of power. But as time went by, you had been caught by something deeper and less understandable, something that bordered on the spiritual, as if on a hidden level you were irremediably united.

—Ah, finally. I thought you weren't coming today,— he said with that warm tone he used only for you, but there was something else in his voice, a hint of anticipation, as if tonight was different.

You walked towards him with a shy smile and stopped just a breath away. You took the book he was holding and, out of the corner of your eye, you felt his gaze fixed on you, intense, as if he was looking to read something you had not yet said.

—And what would you have done if I hadn't come?—you asked in a playful tone, though with a slight tremor in your voice. Something about him had changed in the last few days, he had become more distant, more elusive, and that aroused in you a growing uneasiness.

Alastor held your gaze, his expression serene but his dark eyes shone with something indecipherable, something that seemed to hold all the words he would never say. Slowly, he slid his hand over yours, removing the book and setting it aside.

—You would have left me here, alone... thinking of you.— he murmured, his voice barely a whisper laden with a weight you didn't understand.

A thick silence settled between the two of you, and before you could react, Alastor wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to him. It was a gesture that on the surface was casual, but deep down, it felt like an anchor, as if he was trying to hold on to something that, somehow, he was already letting go.

At that distance, Alastor's scent surrounded you: a mixture of smoke, mint and something darker, something undefined that filled your senses. In that instant, the world seemed to vanish, leaving only that space between the two of you, like a bubble suspended in time.

—I know almost nothing about you, Alastor...—you whispered, with a mixture of curiosity and sadness. Every time you tried to know something deeper about him, about his secrets, he slipped through your questions like a ghost, like a mystery that never let itself be revealed.— Why don't you ever talk about yourself?—you asked softly, hoping, almost begging, that this time he would let you see the man behind the enigma.

Alastor lowered his gaze, his expression becoming somber, but the smile lingered on his lips, a smile that never reached his eyes, as if behind it lurked shadows that were not yours to understand. She seemed to be torn between the words she wished to say and those she could not allow herself to reveal.

— Perhaps... some secrets are better left that way, my dear. Things are less... charming when they come out in the open.— His tone held an almost imperceptible bitterness, but you noticed the trace of pain she was trying to hide. He turned his gaze to the window, where the reflection of the two of them was projected in the gloom.— Sometimes... I like to think that as long as you're with me, nothing else is needed.

That confession was almost inaudible, but there was a fragility in his words that you had never seen in him before, a crack through which you barely managed to peek. You raised a hand and, with a delicate gesture, touched his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eye.

—No matter what you hide... The only thing that matters... is this moment.—you said with unexpected firmness. It was not so much a truth as a desperate promise, one that protected you from the certainty that someday he would vanish from your life like a dream.

For an instant, Alastor's face softened, and his fingers traced the outline of your face, as if he were trying to etch every detail into his memory. The world, the secrets, the danger... all disappeared in the touch of his lips, in a kiss that felt more like a farewell than a beginning.

You clung to him, feeling the warmth of his body, while he held you with a restrained intensity, as if, at that moment, you were the only thing that really mattered to him. Neither of you spoke of the inevitable, but in the silence of that small library, you both knew that that night would be your last.

Soon after, you said goodbye with a smile, and he, promising to return. You left before he did, but stood on the corner, watching him walk away. His footsteps echoed down the cobblestone street, and with each one, it seemed to you that he was taking a piece of your soul with him.

The next morning, rumors spread like a shadow over New Orleans: the infamous Bayou killer had fallen in a confrontation, felled by a burst of gunfire. You heard the news like a distant echo, never suspecting that the man they spoke of in horror was the very man you had secretly loved, the man who held in his breast darker secrets than you could have imagined.

In time, the memory of him began to fade into the shadows, like a dream you clung to in vain. It was only years later, in another time and another world, that you met him again, in the place where you were both destined: a corner of hell where souls crossed by darkness meet again, united by a cruel and unbreakable bond that not even death could break.

That time, you understood that destiny had sealed them together forever, with no possibility of redemption, no possibility of escape.

Omg.

This story was too sentimental for me, but after all, I loved the ending. I actually thought first of the scene of them being human and then moved to the moment of their reunion at speed dating, and I think it was a good result.

I really had this story ready, but due to time issues I delayed it too much, however, I hope you like it as much as I do. I also wish you a Happy Halloween, Hahahaha, bye ♡

[kooppss]

Fucking Kim Taehyung

Starry Night series masterlist

Mondays are always rough—but this one blindsides you. What begins as a typical chaotic workday ends with a surprise meeting to someone from your past: Kim Taehyung, your high school crush turned newly appointed creative director. You haven’t seen him in twelve years… not since that night.

This chapter is dedicated to my Kiks. Thank you for being my biggest supporter and fan—even on the days when I couldn’t believe in myself. I would have never posted this series, or any other content for that matter, if it weren’t for you. I’ll always be grateful for that ❤️ @jungkoode

a/n: so… here we go? I’ve been working on this on and off since July 2024, and I can’t believe it’s finally leaving my docs. I’m so nervous and excited! This fic holds a special place in my heart for so many reasons—I hope you’ll love this first step in the journey!

warnings: cursing (duh), alcohol

word count: 2.5K

Monday, July 8th

Mondays are always rough. 

You're still not fully recovered from the weekend, and there’s already shit-ton of work waiting for you. 

If you’ll find time for actual work, with all the meetings you have scheduled for today. 

You can’t help but sigh, and you rub your face, trying to muster up the energy for the day.

It is going to be a long day. 

And it’s not that you don’t love your job, because you do.

But still, it’s Monday. 

After getting the largest coffee from the coffee stand in the lobby, you sit by your desk and try to plan your day. Trying to fit in all the things you need to accomplish today. 

Only then do you notice an invite to a 7 pm meeting you haven’t approved yet. 

Toast for the New Art & Creative Director Date & Time: 7:00 PM Location: Meeting Room – Top Floor Join us as we raise a toast to welcome our new Art & Creative Directo……. Participation is mandatory for all managers.

Ughhh.

Sounds like a fucking nightmare. 

You roll your eyes at yourself. You hate that kinds of useless meetings. 

Participation is mandatory for all managers.

Fuck that.

You put your elbows on the desk, your head leans against your palms, and you let out a groan. Like this day wasn’t long enough. 

It is easy to assume that after this useless toast, you’ll probably never interact or even see this new director again. You have close to zero relations with the arts and creative department. What a fucking waste of time. 

But you have to go. Stupid corporate politics. 

You're not even gonna fake to care about it. 

You don’t even bother to read the details of the event; you just approve it. With a long sip of your coffee, you return to plan your day. You have only 10 minutes left before your first meeting.

The next few hours pass at a hectic pace. You eat your lunch at your desk while reviewing code for the upcoming app release, when your phone buzzes next to you.

With one glance at the screen, you curse under your breath. 

[12:38 pm] Gabby ♥️: 8:00 Norman’s?

Shit. You totally forgot. 

You talked about grabbing drinks after work. 

You’ll be out of the office at 8:30, at best. 

Fuck this stupid toast.

[12:40 pm] You: I have a stupid toast for a new director that i ttly forgot

[12:40 pm] You: srry 🥺

[12:40 pm] You: see u there at 9?

Part of you wishes she’d cancel, or you could bail. 

Yet you know you won’t cancel on her. She knows it, too.

The rest of the day is just as bad. 

You barely completed all the work you had for today by the time of the toast. 

You head to the fancy conference room on the top floor, trying to hype yourself up for it. 

Just some small talk, a few drinks, listening to a boring speech, and you’re out of here. It's a piece of cake. You've done this hundreds of times. You’ve got this. 

When you reach the floor, you spot Sohee. Thank god. You go straight to her. She’s talking to some girl you don't know. 

When you reach her, she jumps on you with a hug, “Y/nie! Let's go!”

You say an apologetic hello to the woman she talked to while Sohee smothers you as if you hadn’t seen each other on Saturday night. She says goodbye to the woman and pulls you with her to the conference room at the end of the hall. 

Sohee works as a manager in the fashion design department, and she looks like the part. 

She’s wearing a trendy form-fitted dress that complements her figure, her nails are well-manicured with dark burgundy, and her long brown hair is in a cool, effortless-looking bun.

Her subtle makeup complements her pretty features, looking fresh like it’s not the end of a work day.

Even though you never worked together, you met at meetings and events like that.

And Sohee made the decision for both of you to be friends. Now, she is one of your closest friends.

Meeting Sohee was a blessing. 

Most of the managers you work with are tech dudes, and as much as you get along with them, it’s nice to have a feminine energy. And someone you can pass the time at stupid events that waste your time, like this one. 

As you walk to the conference room, she glances at your attire: a simple T-shirt with baggy light-washed jeans and New Balance sneakers. Your usual go-to look at the office. 

She nudges you with her elbow, “When are you letting me dress you up? I can barely see that you have a great ass with these jeans.”

Here she goes again. 

You laugh. You do dress nicer sometimes, and she knows it. But you prefer to keep things casual and comfortable. Safe.

“That ass sat on a chair all day, no one cares how it looks.”

You give her a chicky smile, “But that ass is really glad it got to be in comfortable pants and not crushed by a tight dress.” 

She gasps in fake offense and chuckles, “You’ll regret mocking me, and my ass, when you see the new director.” Then she lowers her tone, “I heard he’s really hot.” 

At that, you really laugh, “I’m not holding my breath.”

“Of course not with your high-school-teenage-boy outfit!” she scolds you. 

You start to protest, “I’m not dressed like a teen-” but she cuts you off, “I heard he’s a real treat. A whole meal even. Would it wound you and try to flirt a little?”

You roll your eyes at her, but she doesn’t give up, trying to hype you up, “You’re the best catch at this place! It’s a crime a fine lady like you is single.” 

You scoff, “A fine lady? What are you? Jane Austen?” 

She gives you an unimpressed look, “How long has it been since you’ve been on a date? You could use some sexy after-hours fun.”

“I don’t have the energy capacity for handling men,” you say evenly. Like it’s above you, and before she can protest, you continue, “and anyway, I’m not going to get involved with someone from the office! It’s like the worst idea ever. I prefer my life drama-free. Thank you very much.” 

Sohee pouts, trying to convince you with a sweet voice, “Butttt I heard from the girls he’s not only like a walking-talking-wet-dream-prince-charming, but he’s also really, really sweet.”

You smile and pat her shoulder, “Then he’s all yours, baby.” 

And you mean it. You kind of gave up on dating. 

Your recent dating list is full of: 

guys who wanted you to have more time for them.

guys who are intimidated by the fact that you don’t need them.

losers that you felt like you were their sugar mama. 

No, thank you. 

So you gave up. For now. Dating isn’t worth your time. 

You step into the elegant room with its stunning city view, grab a glass of nice champagne, take a deep breath, and then join Sohee as she heads to talk to a group of familiar colleagues. 

You pass the time until the actual toast by chatting about the new coffee machines, the new restaurant that opened across the street, and other mundane office small-talk topics. 

One of the girls, Hannah, leans in and whispers excitedly, “Have you seen the new director? Kim something. I swear he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

You internally roll your eyes; she's so dramatic. You’re sure he’s good-looking, but the most handsome man ever? Okay, sure. 

Amanda chimes in, ” There is going to be chaos for him.”

Sohee wiggles her brows, “Well, Amanda, are you going to try your luck?”

“You know I will,” she answers with a wink. 

You all laugh at that. 

The room settles into silence when the chairman clinks his glass.

You turn around to look at him, and then you see him. 

The new director. 

Kim something. 

Fucking Kim Taehyung. 

The most handsome man you've ever seen in your life. 

Indeed. 

You are in shock. 

You glare, and your mouth falls slightly open. You feel like you froze in place, but your blood boils, and you feel the heat spread over your face. 

He looks in your direction with a slightly amused expression and a crooked smile. 

He looks a little surprised, but definitely not as much as you. 

He raises his glass subtly as if motioning hello to you. 

It can’t be. 

Does he recognize you? Does he even remember you?

“You know him?” Sohee whispers in your ear, noticing something is going on with you.

It snaps you out of your shock a little. 

You nod as you turn to look away from him. “Yeah, we knew each other in high school,” you reply quietly. 

She gives you a questioning look as if saying, ‘That’s it?’ You shrug and turn back to face the chairman and the new director. 

Fucking Kim Taehyung. 

From this point, you have no idea what the speakers are talking about. 

You just try to calm your beating heart and stop blushing like a teenager. 

You down a second glass of champagne. As if it’ll help you to wrap your mind around the fact you’re standing in front of  Kim Taehyung. 

When it’s his time to talk, you feel like you spiral even more. 

His deep voice fills the room. “Thank you, Mr. Roberts, for your kind words. I’m excited about this new opportunity. I hope to lead the department through the challenges we have the following year.” 

He raises his almost-empty glass and smiles. You feel like he’s looking directly into your eyes as he says, “I can’t wait to get to know and to work with all of you. Thank you for coming.”

But you might be delusional. 

You are probably in a delusion. 

Why does he have this effect on you at all? After all these years?

Was he always this tall?

That suited look looks good on him.

And his hair. It looks so soft.

How is his skin so glowy? Is he wearing makeup?

Is there a chance he looks even better now? 

Everyone is clapping. You blink a couple of times and snap back to reality. 

Sohee is looking at you with an amused look on her face while she’s slowly clapping. 

“I never saw you blushing like that for a guy.” 

You frown at her. “I’m not blushing. It’s just the alcohol,” you shoot back way too quickly for it to be normal.

She chuckles and raises her hand in mock defense. “OK, OK, so will you go to say welcome?” She motions with her head in his general direction. 

You look to where he stands and can only see the sea of people surrounding him.

“Nah, I need to head out. I’m meeting Gabby at some bar.” You try to say as casually as you can. 

It’s not a lie. 

Mostly.

Partially. 

You are going to meet Gabby. 

But if you head out now, you’ll definitely be there earlier than you told her that you would. 

Yet you know you need to get out of here. Quickly. 

So you say quick goodbyes to the people around you and get out as soon as possible.  Practically fleeting from the event. 

Running away from facing a meeting you're not ready for. 

Not right now. 

You sit at the bar at 08:20 and order a glass of wine. 

You try not to think about what just happened. 

How good he looked. 

How deep his voice is. 

About how he looked at you.

No. 

He wasn’t looking at you. 

You must have lost your mind. 

He probably doesn’t even remember you. 

It’s been like, what? 12 years? from the last time you saw him. 

You were just another random girl. 

Shit, this is not working. 

You order another glass and do what you know best- busy yourself with work. 

You reply to some messages you haven’t gotten to today and schedule some meetings with your teams for tomorrow. 

Before you even notice, it’s 09:05, and Gabby is hugging you with a big smile. 

“I can’t believe you came on time! Now I feel bad that I’m late.”

You laugh and hug her, “Don’t worry about it.”

She sits in the chair by your side, and you see she has a question on her mind, “Didn’t you say you have some stupid toast you have to attend and kiss some management asses?”

You laugh, “Yeah, it was stupid. I managed to dip as soon as the speeches ended, luckily.” 

You avoid telling her you fled the meeting, arriving 40 minutes early. 

For a moment, you consider telling her that the new director is no other than fucking Kim Taehyung.

She knows who he is, and she knows about your small history with him.

No, it’s better to wait with this. You need the distraction more than the comfort of sharing.

You’ll tell her eventually when you come back to your senses. 

“Is everything okay?” Gabby looks at you with a worried look on her face. 

“Yeah, just a long day,” you lie easily. 

“What are you drinking?” you change the subject with a smile.

Later that night, Tuesday, July 9th

You lay in bed a little buzzed from alcohol, snogged in your comfy bed, hugging your pillow.

You arrived home around midnight. 

Hanging with Gabby was fun; you had much catching up to do. 

You are happy you didn't bail on her again, even if you’ll be tired tomorrow. 

Tonight was a good break, a good distraction from this shitty day. 

But then your slightly buzzed mind remembers what you needed a distraction from.

Fucking Kim Taehyung. 

You weren’t the type of girl usually surrounded by hot, cool guys like him. 

You were, and still are, probably, more of the awkward, nerdy type. 

However, your tendency to befriend less introverted people than you led to him becoming part of your circle. 

Not that you ever considered yourself particularly close to him—more accurately, he was a friend of your friends.

Of course, all your friends had a crush on him at some point, both girls and boys alike. But nothing ever really came of it, despite your friends being gorgeous, willing, and not particularly subtle. 

He remained perpetually out of reach, the hot guy they couldn’t have. 

That you couldn’t have.

You never admitted to yourself that you also had a crush on him. 

You’re too realistic for that. Never in a million years did you believe you had a chance, so you simply pushed those thoughts aside.

But that’s not why you’re so flustered seeing him today. 

A specific night comes rushing back to your mind, making you cringe. 

You realize it was also a July night—the July before you all went to college twelve years ago. 

The night you lost your virginity to fucking Kim Taehyung. 

a/n: next chapter, we're going on a little trip to the past...

Back to series masterlist

[companionhell]

I'm a slut for the 'overheard conversation' trope so like,,, romanced companions react to overhearing a nervous Sole as they're practicing their proposal speech? Bonus if Sole is ramble monologuing out loud they're worried it's not good enough for their amazing bf/gf. Just some nice fluff to make your day bright. ((Only if you want to of course. Love ur work, m8))

This ended up pretty long, so I put it under a read more. Enjoy! :)

Cait: Cait’s hearing wasn’t the best after years in the deafening Combat Zone, but Sole wasn’t exactly speaking quietly. So she listened in pretty damn easily-- who in god’s name was Sole talking to, anyway?

“Cait, darling,” Sole said, then paused. Cait strained to hear more, interested by the mention of her name, but the next few words were mumbled. The next she heard was the middle of a sentence: “--start over. Look, I know this isn’t… this maybe isn’t what you were expecting. I don’t know. This stuff is different, after the war. But I can’t think… shit, no, that’s bad.” Sole took a rattling breath, and Cait stepped closer over squeaky floorboards-- what was all this about? “You’re just… Cait, you’re everything to me, and I’m so in love with you, and I just… I wanna marry you.”

Sole jumped when Cait opened the door, looking her lover in the eyes. “You… you just said… you want to marry me? That’s… you really mean that?” Cait’s eyebrows were raised in absolute surprise, and when Sole nodded nervously, Cait broke into a genuine smile. “Never thought I’d be the marryin’ type,” she said, pulling Sole into a kiss. “But, if you really want it… I don’t think you know how much this means to me.”

Curie: Curie did have some manners programmed into her, but her intense desire to learn more about people in general (and Sole in particular) won out. She’d never understood talking to yourself, and she hoped to figure out more by listening in on Sole from the next room, thinking of it more as scientific observation than eavesdropping. It was quite a fascinating habit, after all!

But after only a minute or two, Curie quickly figured out what was going on. “Curie, my love. I don’t know… Okay, not that. Um, there’s a human tradition I’d like you to participate in. With me. It’s to show how much I love you, to promise I’ll stay with you forever… alright, that’s a little better.” Curie started smiling behind her hands, unable to contain the butterflies of excitement in her stomach. Ignoring Sole’s next mutterings about how she deserved a better speech, Curie made her way to their bedroom with a lovestruck expression.

“Oh, mon p’tit chou!” Curie exclaimed. Sole stood at the mirror, holding what looked like a pre-war ring, surprise and embarrassment filling their face as they realized that Curie had heard. She didn’t care that she’d flustered them, though, and clasped her hands to her chest. “Is it true, my love?” Once having received Sole’s affirmation, Curie pressed light kisses on their face in quick succession, speaking in between: “Oh, I love you. I feel my heart may burst- I never knew there could be such bliss.”

Danse: Danse wasn’t really consciously eavesdropping. The house’s walls were thin, and he was just drawing out possible modifications in the next room when he heard Sole talking to themselves. He didn’t think much of it at first- they talked in their sleep, after all. It was likely just another unthinking habit of theirs, so he barely processed their words while he concentrated.

“This needs to be good.. I can’t… ah, damn, I’m going to mess this up.” Danse heard the nervousness in Sole’s voice and momentarily forgot his work, eyebrows furrowing. “Alright. Recent events have been… uh, difficult. For all of us. And I know you’ve been taking time to sort everything out. I have been, too. I was just dropped into the apocalypse without my family, and since then, it’s mostly only gotten worse.” Danse put down the pen and stood, hesitating. He didn’t know what to do, but Sole spoke again. “But if there’s one part of this world I couldn’t live without, it’s… it’s you, Danse. You’re more important to me than words could say. I’m in love with you. And I’ve been thinking about it, and I want to marry you.”

Sole stopped talking, interrupted by loud footsteps rounding the corner and the door slamming open. Danse stood there, flustered and mouth agape, eyes surprised and confused. “Did you… Did you just say you want to marry me?” Sole, more shocked than embarrassed, repeated their proposal, and Danse moved to hold them close, arms wound snugly around the person who’d, months before, saved his life. “I… I can’t explain to you how much that means to me. It’s… a lot to think about, but… I can’t imagine facing the world without you.”

Deacon: Deacon knew something was up with Sole from the minute he heard them talking to themselves. He stepped silently to the end of the hallway, avoiding the squeaky floorboards whose locations he’d memorized, and stopped by the doorway. Deacon steadied his breathing, shifted the center of his weight, and listened.

“Deacon, I…” There was a deep exhale. Deacon’s heart jumped for a moment- had he been seen? But no, Sole continued. “I need to tell you that in this insane world, one of the first things I learned was not to trust anybody. But I can’t help but feel that you’re… different, I guess. Shit, I need another word… you’re… you make this big show about lying a lot, but you don’t bullshit about your beliefs. You don’t bullshit about how fucked-up all this is, and you don’t bullshit about where you came from, and that makes you more genuine than nine-tenths of the people here. I’ve fallen in love with you, Deacon, and I wanna marry you.”

Deacon couldn’t stop himself from inhaling sharply. He… he needed to go think about it. So he quietly made his way outside, lighting a cigarette and staring into the post-apocalyptic wilderness. And Deacon thought- he thought about Barbara, and about the love he’d been so happy to find in Sole, and about himself. Could he commit to moving on? Would Barbara have wanted him to? Did it matter? The next few days were more solemn for him than usual, as he made his decision. And he was glad he’d thought about it- glad that, when Sole finally got it together and proposed, he was able to finally say yes.

Gage: Gage wasn’t really the stealthy type. Looking for Sole, he checked every room in the house, finally walking to their shared bedroom. He didn’t even bother trying to muffle his steps, and considering the heavy-ass cage armor he wore, Gage was pretty damn loud. So when he saw that Sole hadn’t even noticed said clunking footsteps, and that they were so focused on muttering to themselves that they hadn’t turned around to see him, Gage had to listen in.

The first few seconds was just Sole swearing before sighing heavily. “Gage… It’s been a wild ride.” What the hell did that mean? Gage didn’t have time to think about it too much before Sole shook their head and moved on. “This world is fucking insane, and- I don’t think the people are more untrustworthy. I think they’re just more honest about it. Anyway, it was kinda a culture shock. But after wandering in the wasteland, I found my place. At Nuka-World. As leader of the raiders. Gage, I found my place with you.” His eyebrows shot up. Their relationship usually didn’t involve this kinda sappy shit- but this felt more important than usual. “I… I love you, Porter. And I know it’s not a raider ‘thing,’ but fuck it- I’m the Overboss, and I say what I want, so I wanna get married.”

“Damn, Sole,” Gage said, crossing his arms. Sole couldn’t ignore that one. They turned, clearly flustered at the interruption, and opened their mouth to speak- “Nah, gimme a minute, boss. Shit, Sole, that was somethin’ else. And… I guess marryin’ always seemed like bleeding heart bullshit to me, but… you are friggin’ amazing, boss, and if I’m stickin’ with anybody for life, ain’t nobody I’d rather be with than you.” He smiled, kind of sheepishly, and when Sole came over to embrace him, Gage held them tighter than he ever had before.

Hancock: Yeah, okay, Hancock was being kinda sneaky. But the ghoul had damn good ears (what was left of ‘em, anyways), and couldn’t help but try to listen when he heard muttering coming from the room he shared with Sole. So there he was, half-crouched in the hallway, straining to hear what his significant other was saying. This wouldn’t be as hard if Sole wasn’t speaking so damn quiet, anyway.

“John.” That was the first word Hancock heard, and he was already paying attention. Sole only called him that when they were being serious- a couple of near-death scenarios, a heartfelt conversation or two, maybe a few (or more) of their nights together. “My love, I know… commitment isn’t your thing. I understand. And I know you’re doing a lot more of that than usual for me-- I’ve seen you turning down hopefuls from Goodneighbor up to Far Harbor. But I just… I love you, John, and it would mean a lot…” A pause, and a heavy sigh. “Fuck it, I’m never gonna do this right.”

Hancock had inched close enough to the threshold to see Sole staring at their hands- was that a ring glinting in the light? His breath caught in his throat and before he knew it he was tip-toeing outside, somewhere open, somewhere else. He rummaged in his bag for something to take the edge off, but nothing seemed right-- Jet to slow the hell down or Mentats to think clearly? Hancock settled on both, and he sat there and thought for what felt like hours. From the minute he woke up from his radioactive dose he’d never expected anyone to wanna deal with him for much longer than a night or two. Sole was the wrench in that plan… and the best damn thing that’d ever happened to him. Oh, Hancock had made his decision when Sole was the first person he’d sincerely told he loved them since childhood. And when they finally got their act together and asked him, he might as well confirm it.

MacCready: MacCready was about to amble into the room, looking for a comic he’d misplaced- he was sure he’d last been reading it in bed- then heard Sole talking. He stopped instinctively, pausing at the door to listen. Was… anybody else in there with them? No, it seemed like the only one speaking was an increasingly frustrated Sole. MacCready debated with himself for a minute, then elected to stay there, leaning closer to the door to better hear.

“RJ, you gave me something a while back. Something that meant a lot to you.” Were they talking about the toy soldier? What the heck was going on? MacCready edged closer. Sole was sitting on the bed, turning something over in their hands. “It’s time for me to… No, that’s stupid. Um, I want to give something to you too. I love you, RJ. We’ve both lost a lot, but I think it’s best we look to the future. Together.” They slumped, muttering something about how they sounded like an idiot, and MacCready finally caught a glimpse of what they were holding. A ring. Identical to the one they always wore.

He felt tears burning his eyes. After Lucy, he thought he’d always be alone. And here came Sole, who’d not only saved his life and his son’s, but also made him happy for the first time in years. Not barely getting by, not ignoring his pain, but truly happy. “Hey, handsome/beautiful,” he said, crossing the threshold. He laughed at Sole’s shocked expression, and found himself unable to stop smiling. “I definitely don’t deserve someone as good as you, but… hey, if you wanna keep this little thing we have going forever, well, who am I to say no?”

Nick: Alright, Nick had a sneaky bone or two. You had to in his line of business. But he made a point of not going digging through Sole’s dirty laundry, so he tried his absolute hardest to be as not-nosy as possible when he heard them talking from the bedroom. But good god, were they talking for a long time. And loudly. He walked down the hallway, fully intending to alert Sole to his presence, mind you, but heard them say his name. He stopped. What on earth were they on about?

“Nick, I wanted… no.” Sole took a deep breath. “Nick. My love. You’re the best man in the Commonwealth, synth or not. You’re compassionate, and caring, and funny as hell. And I…” They paused, as if thinking. Nick watched from the doorway. Sole was looking into the mirror, staring at themself, and shook their head. “I’m not good enough for you. But… I love you, Nick. And I kinda want to stick together. ‘Long as I’m kicking, anyway. There doesn’t need to be any ceremony or anything if you don’t want to-–”

Nick didn’t hear anything after that. Ceremony? He retreated back down the hallway, as quietly as he came, and sat on the front stoop. Lit up a cigarette. Watched the sunset and the comings and goings of the neighbors. He thought for a long time, examining his reluctance to marry Sole-- the best thing that had happened to him in his decades wandering the Commonwealth. It wasn’t Jenny. God knows she’d have wanted him to move on years ago. And it wasn’t a lack of love. Sole was all an old bot could ask for– the luckiest day of his life was the day they crawled outta that cryo-pod. It had more to do with his disbelief that a stunner like Sole would want to be tied down to a run-down synth with a bum hand and a hole in his neck. He didn’t deserve them. But hey, it was their choice, he thought, looking up at the stars. He’d marry them, alright. And he’d follow wherever they led.

Piper: Piper grinned when she heard Blue mumbling in the bedroom. Their sleeptalking was always priceless. She grabbed a pad of paper from her pocket and slowly eased her way down the hallway, careful not to make too much noise. Sole was a light sleeper. Piper peeked around the door, her playfulness rapidly turning to confusion as she saw that Sole wasn’t asleep, after all. They were sitting on the bed, turned away from her, but still speaking softly. What the heck were they doing?

Sole looked deep in thought. “Maybe start out with… Piper, you’re hard on yourself. Hmm… no, that’s no good.” What? Piper was hard on herself? She leaned in closer to hear. She had good ears, but Blue was barely speaking audibly. Sole kept going. “I know you think of yourself as loud and pushy, but what I see is the kindest woman I’ve ever met. You’re confident, you’re honest, and you’re determined to do good in the world.” Sole looked down at something they held in their hands. “And I know the institution of marriage probably isn’t important to you– or to the Commonwealth, generally– but I thought I’d ask– no, that’s wrong…”

As Sole continued workshopping their phrasing, Piper’s jaw dropped. Marriage? She sidled into the bedroom, purposefully stepping loudly, and saw a glint of gold in Blue’s hands. “Blue!” she said too loudly, startling Sole, who nearly dropped the ring. “Oh, I, uh– Damn it, I’m sorry, Blue, I messed up your moment.” Piper came closer, cupping Sole’s face in her hands. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” She kissed their forehead, smiling at their still-shocked face as she pulled away. “My answer is yes. I will marry you, Blue.”

Preston: Preston definitely hadn’t meant to overhear anything. He’d woken up with his arms empty. Sole wasn’t there. Not too unusual– sometimes they got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. Still, it was hard to sleep without Sole next to him. Groggily, he lifted his head off the pillow and looked around. It was dark. No moonlight shone through the window. But under the bathroom door, there was a crack of light. And through the wall, he could swear he heard… mumbling?

Preston frowned. It had been about a year since they’d taken down the Institute– since Shaun had died. He couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. He’d woken up before to find them crying, silently, in his arms, and done his best to comfort them. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and rolled out of bed, crossing quietly to the bathroom door. Inside, he could hear Sole speaking. He paused for a second to listen. “Preston, I– I don’t think I can… no, that’s no good.” Preston furrowed his eyebrows, lifted his hand up to knock, but was interrupted when Sole started speaking again. “I can’t express in words how much I love you. You’re– you’re kind, and loving, and sweet, and– shit, I’m rambling. Um–”

Preston smiled, leaning on the door so it swung open. “What are you…” He trailed off as he saw what Sole was holding. A ring. The ring that matched the one they always wore. Tears pricked at his eyes. “Are you… planning to propose? …To me?” When Sole confirmed it, Preston beamed. He didn’t think he’d ever stop smiling. He pulled Sole into a hug, pressing kisses against their temples and their forehead. “God, I love you. Of course I’ll marry you– if you’ll have me.”

X6-88: X6 was... concerned. When he and Sole spent an evening at Sanctuary, they usually spent their free time tinkering with their weapons or armor. Or catching up with the settlers. But this time, they’d simply given him a kiss and retreated straight to the bedroom. After two hours of messing with mods for his laser pistol, it seemed clear that Sole wouldn’t be joining him anytime soon. So he quietly trod down the hall. As he approached the bedroom door, he could hear Sole speaking.

“Why am I doing this anyway?” X6 moved closer. Had he done something to upset them? Why not talk to him about it? “He’ll think it’s too sentimental... shit. Maybe I can-- um, alright. X6.” He started, thinking for a moment that Sole had discovered him in the hallway, but they continued talking. Practicing talking to him? “You’re determined, you’re loyal, you’re funny. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And-- and it would mean a lot to me if-- well, you might not care about this kind of thing, but...”

“What kind of thing?” X6 asked, stepping into the room. Sole whipped around to look at him, too surprised to hide what they’d been holding. A gold ring. A wedding ring. X6 took a moment. Sole was right, in a way. He’d keep watching their back until the day he died, and he had never thought of needing a ring or a ceremony to prove it. But... Sole was the person he most cared for in the world. Maybe the only person he cared for. And if wearing a ring was important to them? He would proudly wear his loyalty to them on his finger. It was no object.

[brainddeadd]

https://www.tumblr.com/brainddeadd/764182191222751232/httpswwwtumblrcombrainddeadd7637705318278103

oooo i meant that for luke! i was inspired by jack x grumpy reader! and for the request i was saying jack and her having a good friendship and she close to him so the first time luke sees her smile it’s by jack and luke wants to see her smile again but because of him

The sound of laughter filled the air as you, Jack Hughes, and a few of your friends gathered in the backyard of Jack's family home, your first time visiting. It was one of those perfect summer evenings where the sun hung low, casting a warm golden glow over everything. You and Jack had been best friends for the past two years, your bond built on shared jokes, endless support, and the occasional mischief that always seemed to find its way into your lives.

Jack, the ever-energetic prankster, had just pulled off another one of his ridiculous antics. This time, he had set up a water balloon ambush, soaking several unsuspecting victims in a flash. You doubled over in laughter, your heart soaring as you watched the chaos unfold. Jack had an uncanny ability to bring out your happiest self, but there was something else blooming in your chest that evening, a warmth that felt different.

Across the yard, Luke Hughes, Jack's younger brother, leaned against the porch railing. He had come over to hang out but hadn’t participated in the chaos. Instead, he watched, his blue eyes locked onto you, captivated by the way you lit up in response to Jack's silly antics. The way your smile radiated joy was something he hadn't seen before, and it stirred something inside him—a desire to see that smile more often, and, more importantly, to be the reason behind it.

Luke had always admired you from a distance, appreciating your humor, kindness, and unwavering support of Jack. But tonight, witnessing you so genuinely happy made him realize he wanted to be the one to evoke that smile.

As the evening wore on and the laughter faded, Luke decided it was time to take action. He approached you as Jack rejoined the group, a playful smirk on his face.

“Hey, can I borrow you for a second?” he asked, his voice steady yet playful.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s up, Luke?”

“I have a challenge for you,” he said, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re always laughing at Jack’s antics, but I bet I can make you smile even more.”

“Really?” you challenged, a grin tugging at your lips. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Luke grinned back, his confidence shining through. “Just you wait and see. Meet me over there in ten minutes.” He pointed toward a quiet corner of the yard, where the trees formed a secluded area.

Curiosity piqued, you nodded and made your way over after a few moments, watching as Luke prepared something behind the trees. When you reached the spot, you found him standing with a large canvas and paint supplies.

“Welcome to my art class,” he said dramatically, holding up a paintbrush like a microphone. “Today, you’ll be my muse.”

You laughed, realizing what he was up to. “You’re going to paint me?”

“Well, not exactly,” he replied with a playful wink. “More like I’m going to let you unleash your inner artist while I attempt to impress you.”

The two of you spent the next hour surrounded by laughter and paint splatters, Luke guiding you as you created a chaotic but colorful masterpiece. He joked, teased, and occasionally exaggerated his art skills, making you laugh harder than you had in a while.

As you stepped back to admire the splattered canvas, you glanced at Luke, whose eyes sparkled with excitement.

“See? I told you I could make you smile,” he said, grinning widely.

You couldn’t help but smile back, the happiness radiating from you as you felt a connection growing deeper between you two. “You did. I think you might have a future as an artist.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Nah, I’ll stick to hockey. But if it means getting to see your smile again, I’ll keep trying.”

In that moment, surrounded by laughter and colorful chaos, you realized Luke wasn’t just Jack’s brother anymore; he was someone you wanted to share more smiles with, someone who would make your heart race in ways you hadn’t expected.

And as you looked at the paint-smeared canvas and back at him, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps this was just the beginning of a new adventure.