#n anyway so i led them all to a different corner of the room and ended up reading 15 out of the 16 chapters of the book

[clarkeysbedchem]

white lace teasing

arthur hill x fem reader x george clarke

summary: george and arthur insist on coming to a photoshoot with you, only to be met with a surprise.

warnings: mature content (18+ only)

main masterlist

a/n: i fear i might’ve got a little carried away… anyways everyone say thank you mitchie for this request bc i loved it <333

content warnings: threesome, cream-pie, oral (f recieving), fingering, unprotected sex - if ive missed any let me know

You had accomplished a lot in your career as a content creator, and you were proud of each accomplishment. From brand deals to paid partnerships, to appearing reality tv shows, you were proud of it all. But this felt different. This was the moment everything had led up to.

Being the face of the Skims summer collection.

Not a just brand campaign. Not a silly little YouTube thumbnail. A full production level photoshoot for a lingerie line. And you were going to be on the forefront of it. You had been practically vibrating with excitement ever since the offer came through.

And of course, when you told Arthur and George, two of your best mates, they practically demanded to come with you.

“We’re literally your biggest supporters,” George said.

Arthur added, “Yeah, we need to be there to hype you up.”

So, they joined you. Not knowing what kind of shoot they were walking into. They assumed that it was just for the clothing, it never crossed their minds that you’d be modelling in sheer lingerie for the world to see.

And that made it all the better.

Because the second you stepped out of hair and makeup wearing a sheer babydoll dress, your tits showing through the fabric and the faint outline of the beige thong you had been given peeking out, the room shifted. It wasn’t just the production crew that fell silent, but so did Arthur and George.

You watched them shifting in their seats, both trying so hard to not to gape at you.

But the way your body moved with ease under the photographer’s direction – arching here, turning there, eyes sultry, lips parted – you could feel their eyes burning into your skin. Every so often, you let your gaze flicker to the corner of the studio where your boys sat and they were frozen, lips parted, eyes glued to you like they weren’t sure whether to be concerned, impressed, or aroused.

By the end of the shoot, you felt like you were on cloud nine. Even with your normal clothes back on and makeup still perfect from the artists, you felt unstoppable. So with the lingerie packed neatly in a branded tote bag, you made your way back to the boy's flat with George and Arthur following a few paces behind you, both of them uncharacteristically quiet.

And when you got to the flat, things didn’t change. They both sat stiff on the couch fidgeting and refusing to look at you.

They were avoiding eye contact like the plague, every time you spoke to them, they’d flinch away as if you were diseased, or maybe it was because they had just seen every inch of your body wrapped in lace and silk.

So, you did what you do best, and you teased them.

Soft, light touches when you would walk past them on the sofa. A slight wiggle of your hips when you bent over to grab your phone from the floor, knowing exactly what they can see from that angle. When you flopped down on the sofa, you draped your bare legs over their thighs feeling them harden and squirm.

Then an idea hit you.

You pushed yourself up from the sofa, grabbing the tote bag from the table and holding it up with a grin, “Hey,” you cooed sweetly, “Wanna help me pick which set looked best on me?”

Arthur choked on his drink spluttering it everywhere looking like a dear in headlights, and George looked over at you wide-eyed.

“What?”

“C’mon,” you grinned, already walking toward the hallway, “Be honest. I value your feedback. I trust you.”

Neither of them spoke as you disappeared down the hall clicking the door closed behind you. Within a few minutes, you re-emerged wearing the first set: a white satin slip with lace frilling the edges as it hugged your curves like a second skin.

You twirled slowly for them, “Well?”

All Arthur could do was stare in awe. George blinked slowly rolling his tongue over his lips leaning back into the couch (not so) subtly bringing a cushion onto his lap.

“Jesus Christ,” Arthur muttered under his breath, dragging his hand over his face.

You smiled at them, moving your hips slightly, “Is that a yes?”

Both of the boys nodded instantly, their eyes devouring your figure as you spun around making your way back to Arthur’s room.

You changed again. And again. Each time coming out bolder, more confident, slower in your steps, watching their reactions as if it was the only thing that mattered – because it was.

Then you stepped out in the softest baby pink set. A cropped corset that hugged your tits deliciously and a string thong that left very little to the boy's imagination. You looked so delicate and sweet and deceptively innocent as you bounced over to them, making your way to Arthur first.

You slotted yourself between his legs where he was sprawled out on the sofa. His eyes glued on your thighs, your chest, anywhere but your face.

“Feel how soft this one is,” you muttered, reaching for his hand and guiding it upward.

His palm cupped around your breast through the fabric. His touch hesitant and warm.

He froze under you, “Y-Yeah, that’s, that’s really soft,” he stuttered, voice cracking halfway through.

You leaned in closer, lips brushing his cheek before you pulled back turning to George,

“Want to feel too?” you asked coyly.

He nodded, his jaw bit tight and eyes dark.

You grabbed his hand too, bring it to your waist this time, guiding his fingers over the lace trim.

He exhaled a sharp breath, “Yeah. Fuck.”

Then, without another word, you skipped away down the hall to grab the next set.

Behind you, in the silence of the living room, Arthur and George just sat there, staring at each other.

“What the actual fuck,” Arthur muttered.

George’s hand pulled through his hair, “We’re in so much trouble.”

You didn’t even think twice before putting on the next set you had laid out. Yeah, you could’ve chose something a little safer – but where was the fun in that?

Instead, you stepped into the white lace bodysuit, spinning slightly in the full-length mirror in the corner of Arthur’s room. The piece was basically transparent, the fabric so fine that every inch of you was on display. It was the kind of piece you used to look at and wonder if you would ever have the confidence to wear it.

But now? You weren’t just wearing it; it was like it was made for you.

You sauntered out of the bedroom casually, feet padding on their wooden floor, as if this was something you did on a day-to-day basis. The boys looked up lazily at first expecting another slow twirl, another smirk.

But when they saw what you were wearing?

Arthur blinked hard, straightening up gawking at you. George’s posture straightened, his hands gripping onto his jeans. Their eyes dragging down getting lower before they both even realised what they were looking at.

“Holy.” Arthur choked.

George cursed under his breath.

You didn’t say a word as you padded silently across the room, eyes half-lidded. Carefully, you slid yourself right onto the edge of the couch, propping yourself between them.

One hand reaches out for Arthur. The other for George.

They both gave in instantly.

You guided them down your body, slowly and deliberately, over your hips, letting their fingertips brush the lace, teasing them closer and closer until they felt exactly what they were missing.

No barrier. Nothing stopping them.

You hear the sharp inhale that George tried to conceal. You felt Arthur’s fingers twitch against your folds. Their hands now cupped right between your legs, and the tension in the room growing unbearable.

You exhaled like this was the most normal thing in the world, “Thoughts?”

Neither one of them moved.

They were too enamored by you, their hands frozen in place, completely undone by how effortlessly you had flipped the dynamic on them.

“We could do like our own photoshoot,” you suggested, voice low and smooth as you leaned into them “Or video shoot. Y’know Just the three of us?”

Arthur groaned, the sound coming out low and strained, “You’re gonna kill us.”

George’s eyes were screwed tight as he spoke, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

You smiled sweetly, tilting your head, “Don’t I?”

You pulled away, leaving both their hands empty and cold, slowly rising to your feet, hips swaying as you headed back down the hallway once again.

This time, you didn’t close the door all the way, leaving it open slightly.

And when you glanced back at them over your shoulder, watching the boys sit completely still their hands clenched at they sides, eyes locked on the hallway like they were debating whether they should follow you.

Whether they should cross the line that none of you will come back from.

God, you hoped that they would.

A few seconds had passed, a few incoherent murmurs were heard from the living room and then you heard the soft creak of the couch and quiet footsteps echoing down the hall, a slow smile curved onto your lips.

They followed you. Of course they did.

You were stood in the middle of Arthur’s bedroom, back to the door, still dressed in that white lace bodysuit. The light from the hallway shone a gentle glow across the room, spilling in just enough to illuminate your bare skin, making you glow like a warning sign.

You didn’t turn to face them when the door clicked shut, “Couldn’t stay away, hm?” you teased, softly reaching up to slip the thin straps down your shoulders.

There was a pause.

Then Arthur’s voice, thick and low: “Not a fucking chance.”

You felt George before could you see him, his fingers brushing lightly over your bare shoulders, sliding the straps down your arms. His breath fanning against your neck sending a shudder through your core.

“You have no idea what you’ve just started,” he muttered.

“Maybe I do,” you whispered back, leaning into his touch just enough to provoke him.

Arthur appeared in front you in seconds, both of them crowding you. His hands finding your hips in a firm and controlling grip. George grabbed your jaw moving your head to face him, your glistening eyes locking on his dark ones, before following along the line of his tight jaw.

A hiss fell from your lips as his fingers brushed your inner thigh just beneath the edge of lace.

“You’ve been driving us mad,” Arthur murmured into the skin of your collarbone, his voice thick with need.

“Fucking mental,” George adds, his touch climbing higher.

You look between them, breath shaky but eyes lit with a fire.

“Then do something about it.”

George’s mouth crashed onto yours in a hungry unrelenting kiss, while Arthur dragged his hands up your stomach, finding your breast again, his touch more confident this time as his fingers curled around the plush skin like it belonged to him. You moaned into George’s mouth, knees starting to buckle under the electricity passing between the three of you.

They guided you back to the bed. George’s hands never leaving the backs of your thighs, Arthur’s lips attacking every inch of your neck. You fell back against the pillows with a soft laugh, flushed and trembling as they took a step back, only for a second, so they could admire you.

Dressed in lace, legs parted, eyes begging for them.

“Holy fuck,” Arthur cursed, completely breathless, “You’re perfect.”

George exhaled, hands already tugging off his shirt, “You’re gonna ruin us.”

You smiled pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, dragging your finger down your sternum, “Good.”

And when they move again it was a shared hunger that melded with their quiet desperation. Arthur leaned down kissing you deeply savouring every second swallowing your sounds as George’s calloused hands slide between your thighs. Every touch felt like they had both been waiting for this moment far longer than they’ll ever admit.

They weren’t holding back anymore.

Arthur’s mouth was everywhere. Your jaw, your collarbone, your shoulder leaving a trail of marks and heat in his wake. His fingers gripped your waist harshly, and you knew it would bruise but you didn’t care. The feeling of him being this close sent your stomach in a whirlwind. And Arthur couldn’t quite believe you were real, spread beneath him like this, letting him do whatever he pleased.

George’s movements were slower, more deliberate, trailing sweet kisses down your thigh, looking up at you watching every slight change in your expression like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Their hands met on occasion, overlapping on your skin, brushing, squeezing in silent frustration that they weren’t alone with you. And yet, neither one moved to stop the other.

It was messy. It was overwhelming. It was perfect.

“Fuck,” George muttered as he finally peeled away the lace at your hips, exposing your glistening heat. His breath hitched audibly, and Arthur’s fingers flexed against your stomach like he was physically restraining himself from diving in first.

“You sure about this?” Arthur’s voice cracked at the edges, concern bleeding through.

You nodded, breathless, “I want you. Both of you.”

George dove without hesitation, tongue hot and skilled as he lapped against you like a man starving. Your thighs tried to close on instinct, but Arthur held them open, his hands firm around your knee, eyes watching every flick of George’s tongue with a dark kind of fascination.

You cried out, hips rolling, overwhelmed by the sensations. Arthur hushed you with a kiss, swallowing your moans while his hands slid up your chest palming your breasts again, his thumbs grazing your nipples until they peaked and a whimper escaped your throat.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against your mouth, “So fucking beautiful.”

George pulled back just long enough to growl, “She tastes like heaven.”

Your hand slid down, desperate to touch something, anything, but Arthur caught your wrists, pinning them to the mattress with a knowing smirk.

“Nuh uh. You don’t get to take control now,” he said, eyes brimmed with lust, “You’ve had your fun teasing us. Now it’s our turn.”

You whimpered, arching your back, your body trembling beneath their touch as they overwhelmed you from both sides. George’s hand joined his tongue, sliding two fingers inside you, curling perfectly in you while his other hand gripped your thigh, anchoring you.

Arthur leaned in close, licking a slow, hot stripe along your neck, “You gonna cum for us, pretty girl?”

You were already close. Too close.

Every word, every touch, every flicker of breath was pulling you closer and closer, their hands and mouths worshipping every part of you.

And then you finally came.

Body trembling in Arthur’s arms, moans ripping from your throat as your eyes squeezed shut. George had no intention in stopping. Arthur pressed sweet kisses to your temple murmuring praises, his hand brushing sweaty strands of hair from your face as George worked you through every wave of pleasure until you were limp beneath them.

You barely had time to come back around before Arthur was stood undoing his belt, George rising beside him and pushing off the rest of his own clothes.

Your eyes widened slightly, lips parting letting scattered breaths fall as you watched both of them. Every movement so familiar, yet so devastatingly hot as they undressed in front of you.

Arthur crawled over you, his body flush against yours, the heat of him impossible to ignore. “You ready, love?” he whispered against your lips, breath hitching as your thighs wrapped around his waist.

George’s voice came from beside you, deeper now, almost possessive: “You’re gonna be a good girl for us and let us both fuck you?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, at the way his voice engraved into your brain. The way he said it like it was a promise and a threat in one. You nodded, eyes wide, your voice barely above a whisper, “Yes, please. I want you. I want both of you.”

Arthur groaned, like he had been holding back, like something primal had released in him. He dropped his forehead to yours as he aligned himself with your entrance, “Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me,” he muttered.

You barely had time to reply before he pushed in slowly, his thick cock stretching you in the most delicious way, filling you completely. Your fingers dug into his back, nails leaving angry red trails as your head fell back against the pillows.

“Christ, you're tight,” Arthur hissed, trying not to collapse on top of you from how good you felt around, “Fucking perfect.”

George leaned down stroking over your jaw carefully while the other trailed down your body, steadying you both. He watched your face like it was the only thing that mattered, his voice gentle despite the possessiveness humming through him, “That feel good, baby?”

“So good,” you whimpered, your voice wrecked.

Arthur rocked into you slow at first, the sound of your wet cunt bouncing through the room. You clenched around him without meaning to, the stretch too intense but mind-numbingly good at the same time. His mouth was back on your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he sped up, your bodies moving together in a steady rhythm.

George’s hand trailed further down to your core, fingers circling your clit in tight, practiced motions. The sensation of Arthur rutting into you and George’s fingers drawing maddening circles made your whole body feel like it was about to snap.

“Look at you,” George murmured, his lips brushing your ear, “Taking him so well. But I bet you can take more, yeah?”

Your breath hitched, already trembling, “Fuck, yes.”

“Good girl,” Arthur groaned, picking up the pace, lifting your hips to meet his desperate thrusts, “You’re doing so fucking good.”

George moved to lay next to, his chest pressed to your side, his cock hard against your hip. He kissed your cheek, then down your throat, hand still teasing your clit, “When he’s done, it’s my turn, love. You gonna let me ruin you too?”

You nodded, barely able to speak. Everything building. The pressure, the praise, the filthy words falling from their lips.

Arthur was close. You could feel it in the way his thrusts started to lose rhythm, in the ragged groans falling from his lips as he buried his face in your sternum.

“Shit. ‘m not gonna last,” he gasped, “Where?”

“In me,” you whispered, almost sobbing from how badly you needed to feel all of him, “Please.”

That was all it took. Arthur came with a loud, broken moan, his hips stuttering as he emptied into you, fingers bruising your waist, lips locked against your collarbone as he spilled inside you.

But even as he stilled, you weren’t granted even a moment of rest.

George was already pulling Arthur back, helping ease him out of you before taking his place between your thighs, voice rough and full of lust, “Still with us, baby?”

You nodded, dazed and fucked out but hungry for more, “Yes. Please. Want you.”

George lined himself up, slower, eyes never leaving yours. He pushed in inch by inch, filling you all over again, a deep groan falling from his throat as he bottomed out.

“Fuck, you're dripping,” he growled, looking at the mix of yours and Arthur’s cum leaking out of your in awe, “All because of us.”

Arthur laid beside you, his hand brushing your cheek as George started his deep and punishing movements, “You’re doing so well for us, sweetheart,” Arthur murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, “Let him take care of you.”

And he did.

Every thrust from George hit deep, pushing you further into Arthur’s side as your nails raked down George’s back. You were stretched, full, and wrecked but your body screamed for more.

“Come for me,” George growled, his hand gripping your jaw, his forehead resting against yours, “Be our good girl. One more.”

You shattered all over again. Mouth gaped open as broken cries fell out, your entire body convulsing beneath him as he fucked you through it, every inch of your body trembling with the force of your release.

George followed soon after, a low groan vibrating into your skin as he came deep inside you, his hips rocking through it, your name broken on his tongue.

And when it was over, when the room was quiet. All that was heard was the ragged sounds of your breathing breathing, and the boys stayed close. Arthur pulled the duvet over the three of you, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, and George wrapped a secure arm around your waist, burying his face in your neck.

No one said anything for a while. There was no need. You were theirs now. And they were yours.

taglist: @jamiekluivert @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @wherethezoes-at @themdera @xlovergirlx @smzyyx @bowielovesyou @pretendyoucantseeme @elhotchner @duolingofanaccount @pookietv @ooostarwarsfandom501st @triplefrontierbabe @formulaa-1 @clarkeyscvntymullet @sdmnpact

requested by: @cheekytv

[solanastark]

i can see you

summary: inspired by i can see you by taylor swift. It’s all stolen glances, quiet tension, and finally—finally—giving in to the thing they’ve both been too afraid to admit.

pairings: bucky x avenger!reader

tags/warnings: acts of service bucky, lots of unspoken pining, slight angst, fluffyyy

word count: 3.2k

A/N: ive been playing this song on repeat recently and it's about time i make a fic inspired by it. and receiving acts of service without asking literally makes my knees weak so this was such fun

"you brush past me in the hallway

and you don’t think i see it, do you?"

The Avengers compound was massive. It was far bigger than she expected. Steve was walking her through the main hall, rattling off names, locations, and protocol as she tried to keep up. Her head was still spinning from the whole "you’re one of us now" thing.

Steve led her through the sprawling Avengers compound, pointing out training rooms, the lab, and the common areas.

“So this is where most of the team hangs out,” Steve said, glancing back to make sure she was keeping up.

She nodded, taking everything in. The hum of technology, the faint clang of weights, the soft chatter from different corners.

As they rounded a corner, That’s when they passed him in the hallway.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. A shadow in the corner of her eye. His hair was a little messy, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, metal arm glinting under the light. He was walking the other way, purposeful, eyes cast down like he had no time for anything else.

Steve paused. “Hey, Buck—”

But Bucky didn’t stop. Just kept moving, like the hallway wasn’t narrow enough to force that brief shoulder-to-shoulder proximity.

Their paths crossed briefly, and for a split second their hands brushed.

It was a quick, almost accidental touch but she felt it. Something strange, electric, like a spark under her skin.

Her breath caught. Just for a second.

Because she saw it. The glance. That flash of blue eyes darting to her, then gone before Steve could catch it.

She blinked and shook her head, blaming it on nerves. “Just my imagination,” she muttered to herself, focusing back on Steve’s words.

"i’ve been watching you for ages

and I spend my time trying not to feel it."

She wasn’t trying to fall for him.

Really, she wasn’t.

Being the new recruit on the team was hard enough—fitting in, training until she couldn’t feel her legs, trying to act like she belonged here. That was supposed to be her focus, not... him.

Not the man who barely spoke. Not the man with shadows in his eyes and a metal arm that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. Not the man who brushed past her in the hallway like she didn’t exist, even though she knew he saw her. Y/N felt it in the way his gaze lingered for just a fraction too long before darting away.

She didn’t want to read into it, didn’t want to be that girl who assumed kindness was something more. But then there were the little things.

Every morning, exactly at the same time, a steaming cup of coffee waited for her on the kitchen counter—just the way she liked it: black with a splash of cream, no sugar. It had become a small ritual she looked forward to, though she never knew who was behind it.

One morning, she reached for the cup just as Sam walked in.

“Hey,” she smiled, “thanks for always making me coffee in the mornings. You’re a lifesaver.”

Sam scratched his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, me? I don’t do that. I’m more of a cereal guy anyway.”

She blinked, confused. “Really? Then… who—?”

Before she could finish, Bucky appeared around the corner, a shower towel on his shoulder and a cup of coffee in his hand. He caught her gaze, then lifted his cup slightly in a quiet toast.

“Morning,” he said softly.

He looked so soft in the morning light, his hair untamed and still slightly damp. She felt heat rise to her cheeks, heart skipping a beat.

Don't feel it.

Her favorite protein bars were always restocked after missions, even though she never mentioned them to anyone. The punching bag she liked best in the gym always seemed freshly replaced. When she struggled with a weapons malfunction during training, it mysteriously fixed itself the next day. He never said a word, never acknowledged it, but it was him. She knew.

And still, she tried not to feel it.

Because it was dangerous.

Because it was messy.

Because it was him.

And she told herself—again and again—

Don’t feel it. Don’t feel it.

“we keep everything professional

but something’s changed and I like it.”

It started with a joke. Just a stupid joke in the middle of a mission debrief, when the room was heavy with tension and exhaustion.

She hadn’t meant to make him laugh. She wasn’t even sure if he could laugh.

But she cracked something light about how Tony’s “state-of-the-art training dummies” looked like giant marshmallows, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw it—Bucky, in the corner, smiling. And then, laughing.

It wasn’t loud, barely more than a huff under his breath, but it was real. His shoulders shook, and his lips tugged up like it surprised even him.

She blinked, stunned, and grinned wide. “Did the Winter Soldier just laugh at my joke?”

His face shuttered fast. “Nope.”

“Are you smiling?” she teased, voice full of mock-incredulity.

“Nope.”

“Bucky Barnes, you are smiling—”

“Drop it.”

She grinned, eyes sparkling as the tension in the room softened.

Their gazes lingered for a moment. She didn't know she could bring out this side of him.

Later that night, she came back from a quick sparring session with Natasha, bruises blooming along her side. She kept telling herself it was fine, just another part of the job, but when she stepped into the compound’s dim kitchen for a water bottle, she found Bucky already there, standing by the fridge.

His gaze narrowed when he saw her wince. “What happened?” He's been speaking to her more often. As time passes, the urge to get closer to her only grows.

“Just a sparring thing. It’s fine,” she said, waving it off.

“Sit down,” he muttered, already pulling an ice pack from the freezer. She sat on top of the counter, watching his eyebrows furrow in concern.

He placed himself in front of her, too damn close for professional. Bucky's arms rested on either side of the counter top. She tried to avoid his piercing gaze.

"Are you going to remove your jacket or are we going to stay here all night?" his voiced laced with sarcasm. Y/N noticed that he's unmoving, she surrenders with a sigh.

She cautiously unzipped her sparring jacket, revealing her sports bra and the purple spots on her side. Her breath caught. She wanted to tell him she could handle it, wanted to remind herself this was professional. But the way his fingers ghosted over the bruises, careful and gentle like she was made of glass, sent something cracking inside her.

“You’re too stubborn,” he muttered, pressing the ice pack against her skin.

She tried not to shiver. Tried not to feel it.

“Just professional,” she whispered under her breath, almost like a prayer.

He didn’t say anything. But his hand lingered on her side a second longer than necessary, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

She carefully pressed the ice pack against the bruised side of her ribs. Bucky stood close by, his metal arm gently steadying her shoulder as he adjusted the pack.

“Be careful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough—far from the usual guarded tone.

She glanced up, catching the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. “Thanks, but I’m tougher than I look.”

He gave a small, rare smile, but the warmth didn’t quite reach his gaze. The silence stretched between them, heavy with words neither dared say.

She swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close they’d gotten, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the quiet hum of the compound. Her heart picked up pace, and she realized this—this wasn’t professional anymore.

Her breath hitched as he leaned in just a little, as if to say something more, something real. Their eyes met, both searching, both hesitant.

But then—he pulled back, clearing his throat. “The ice is melting quick, I'll.. Uh— I'll get more.” he said, voice a little too light.

She let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Yet the charged air lingered, the almost-kiss hanging between them like a promise.

“They keep watchful eyes on us

so it’s best if we move fast and keep quiet.”

That was the unspoken rule of the compound, wasn’t it? Keep things tight. Keep things professional. No slipping up. No letting anyone catch the way her eyes lingered on him, or the way Bucky seemed to drift toward her without even realizing it.

But as the weeks went by, the bond between them started to grow.

It wasn’t loud or obvious. Just small things. The way he passed her an extra granola bar after a mission without a word. The way she’d always end up across from him at the table. The way her bruises seemed to heal faster when he handed her an ice pack and grumbled something soft under his breath.

One afternoon, Sam poked his head into the gym while Bucky was helping her with a combat drill.

“Yo, Barnes! Come golfing with me later. Let off some steam.”

Bucky glanced at her, almost on instinct. “Can Y/N come too?”

The room froze.

The air got so thick you could taste it. Everyone in the room turning, eyes snapping to Bucky, then to her, then back to Bucky like they were watching a soap opera play out in real time. Even the weights seemed to pause mid-swing.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up in slow motion, an unmistakable grin tugging at his lips like he knew.

Bucky caught the shift, the tension crackling like static. He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet like a man who just realized he walked into a minefield.

“I mean, you know, because she’s new and all. Could use a break from training. She’s always in here, y’know, it’s just…” His words fumbled over each other, voice trailing off into a mutter as his ears turned pink.

Sam’s grin widened.

“Sure, Barnes,” Sam said, clapping him on the shoulder with a wink. “Whatever you say, man.”

A spark in the air lingered, something they both felt but neither dared to name.

But later that night, she found herself smiling in the quiet of her room, heart racing, thinking about how Bucky’s first instinct had been to include her.

Like maybe they were more than teammates.

Maybe they were becoming something.

“What would you do if I went to touch you now?”

Bucky’s voice was raw, almost a growl. He stood in the doorway, his silhouette barely lit by the dim kitchen light, jacket half-zipped, boots still on. The air clung heavy around him, a storm barely contained. His eyes—stormy, haunted—wouldn’t meet hers.

It was late. Everyone else asleep. She’d heard the door creak open, the soft shuffle of boots on the floor. She’d been waiting, somehow knowing tonight was different.

“Bucky?” she called softly, voice a whisper in the dark.

His shoulders tensed like a wire pulled tight. She stepped closer, heart racing, and the moment he turned, it hit her like a punch to the chest.

His face was blank, but his eyes. God, his eyes were screaming.

She could see the weight pressing down on him, could feel it in the way his breath hitched, in the tremble of his hands. The blood on his knuckles, the fresh cuts across his cheek, the smudges of dirt and grime on his skin.

“I couldn’t save them,” he muttered, voice barely audible. His fists clenched. “Couldn’t—” He cut himself off, his breath shuddering out like it burned to breathe.

“The Winter Soldier isn’t meant to save.”

“Bucky, that’s not—”

“Y/N, stay back,” he warned, sharp and sudden, like a wounded animal. His metal hand flexed at his side, fingers curling into a fist so tight it trembled.

But she didn’t. Instead, she took a step closer.

And then another.

Until they were inches apart, and she reached for him, her fingers brushing his metal arm.

His breath caught—sharp, ragged, like the world had stopped.

Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling but sure.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

He flinched, his head shaking in disbelief, a thousand ghosts in his eyes. “You should be.”

“I’m not,” she said again, firmer now, her fingers curling gently around the cold vibranium, her thumb tracing the seam where metal met flesh. "I’m not leaving. Not until you understand that you’re more than what they made you."

It wasn’t just his skin she was touching. It wasn’t just the soldier. It was him. The man underneath. The one who carried all the weight and still stood.

"You’re not the Winter Soldier, Bucky. Not anymore. You’re not a weapon—they tried to make you one, but they failed. You’re a man who tries. You’re a man who cares." she searched for his eyes, the palm of her hand grazing his cheek.

"And you did save someone tonight. You did. But your not supposed to save everyone. No one is." she continued. "But you keep trying anyway and that’s what makes you good, Bucky. That’s what makes you you." her voice falters at the end, seeing the war— the inner turmoil behind his eyes.

Bucky’s chest rose and fell in a shuddering breath, and it broke. Everything he was holding in, everything he’d tried to bury. His body slumped forward, forehead pressing to hers, his breath ragged against her cheek.

His hands shook—both of them. His human one, clenched in the fabric of her shirt. His metal one, still in her grasp, her thumb brushing over the cold plates like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered, voice cracked and low. He buried his head on the crook of her neck, held her as if he was afraid of slipping away.

“I know,” she whispered back, her other hand stroking his hair gently, holding him like he wasn’t a soldier or a weapon or a burden but a man.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself be held.

“I could see you in your suit and your necktie

pass me a note saying meet me tonight…”

The gala was in full swing; strings of golden lights hanging from the ceiling, the clink of glasses, the soft hum of music blending with the buzz of laughter. Everyone dressed to the nines, sipping champagne and talking about things that didn’t really matter.

She stood by the bar, swirling her drink idly, trying to look like she wasn’t searching for him in every corner of the room. But she felt it.

His eyes.

Wherever she went—by the charity auction table, near the art displays, while laughing at something Sam said—his gaze found her. Burning. Watching. Like a magnet drawing her in.

She finally took her spot at the bar, one elbow propped up, back straight, trying to convince herself it was fine, that the knot in her stomach was just the champagne.

And then he appeared.

Bucky Barnes in a perfectly tailored suit and dark tie, looking so devastatingly good it made her breath hitch. He sat beside her without a word, casually ordering a drink like he hadn’t been staring at her all night.

“Oh, great,” she said, voice light but her heart racing, “look who finally decided to approach me after, what, hours of lurking from across the room.”

Bucky smirked, barely glancing at her. “Didn’t realize you were keeping count.”

“Hard not to when you’re practically burning a hole in the back of my head.”

He grabbed his drink from the bartender, clinking the glass lightly against the bar. “Just making sure you don’t get into trouble,” he muttered, voice low and teasing.

And then, just before turning to leave, he brushed past her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him and slipped a folded note into her hand, so quick it was almost imperceptible.

She blinked, caught off guard, glancing down at the slip of paper crumpled in her palm.

Meet me on the balcony. Midnight.

He walked away without a backward glance, melting back into the crowd like he hadn’t just flipped her entire world upside down.

She stared after him, lips parted in surprise, a flush creeping up her neck.

And despite herself, she smiled.

“I could see you being my addiction,

you can see me as a secret mission"

The city stretched out below, a sea of shimmering lights in the dark, but the world felt small up here—just the two of them on the balcony, with the hum of the night air and the distant pulse of traffic below.

She stepped out quietly, the soft click of her heels muted against the concrete. There he was, standing at the railing, arms braced on the metal, broad shoulders tense, head bowed slightly like the weight of everything he’d ever been was pressing down on him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Bucky muttered, barely glancing at her, but the subtle curve at the corner of his mouth gave him away.

She folded her arms, leaning back against the wall like she wasn’t letting her heart pound in her chest. “Cut to the chase, James.”

He turned fully then, caught off guard by the sound of his name in her voice, soft, steady, like a key turning in a lock he didn’t even know was there. The faint glow from the compound windows cast a halo of light across her face, and for a second, the breath hitched in his throat.

“You always do that,” he said quietly, voice rough, almost like he was saying it to himself.

“Do what?”

“Make me forget everything else. Even when I don’t want to.”

Her breath caught, but she tried to keep her cool. “You’re not making any sense, Barnes.”

He exhaled sharply, shoving a hand through his hair, metal fingers glinting in the low light. “I’m not good at this.”

Her voice softened, and she stepped closer. “Try.”

He looked at her then—really looked. His eyes, usually guarded and distant, were wide open now, reflecting the city lights. His voice dropped, raw and quiet, like a confession dragged from the depths.

“I thought I’d be cold forever. But then you came along, and it’s like you lit a fire in me. You made me feel human again.”

Her breath hitched, eyes searching his. “Bucky…”

He reached out, hesitant, brushing a knuckle down her cheek like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. “It scares the hell out of me. Because I didn’t think I’d ever feel like this again. Didn’t think I deserved it.”

Her hand lifted, fingers curling gently around the edges of his metal arm, grounding him. “You do.”

And then she smiled—soft, knowing, a little sad—and it cracked something wide open inside him.

“I thought it was just me,” she whispered. “I thought I was seeing things that weren’t there. You, doing all those little things, always watching out for me. I tried not to feel it, but I couldn’t help it. I see you, Bucky. Even when you think I don’t.”

He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing, a small, crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Getting here—standing here with you—it felt like a secret mission I never thought I’d complete.”

Her laugh was breathless, disbelieving. “You like me, don’t you?”

He swallowed hard, a flicker of boyish uncertainty in his expression. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Her grin grew, and before he could say another word, she surged forward and kissed him. Soft but sure, like she wasn’t afraid of the weight of what this meant.

When they pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers, voice barely a whisper.

“I could see you being my weakness.”

She smirked, eyes sparkling. “Your addiction, you mean.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “Yeah. That too.”

The night air was cool against her skin, but his breath was warm shaky and soft, a quiet confession in itself as they stood there, forehead to forehead, with the sounds of the city below.

Her hands slid down his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the layers of his suit, and she smiled, soft, a little bit in awe, a little bit in disbelief.

“I guess we’re not very good at the whole keeping it professional thing, huh?” she whispered. Bucky’s chuckle rumbled low in his chest, the sound of it curling around her like a safety net. “Never stood a chance, sweetheart.”

The tension that had been coiled so tight between them for weeks finally broke, and it felt like a dam bursting like every glance, every small moment had been leading to this.

“I should probably—” she started, stepping back, but he caught her wrist, gentle but firm, as if he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

“Stay,” he murmured, his voice rough like gravel, but the way he said it so soft under his gruff voice made her heart stutter.

She hesitated for a beat, then nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

They stood there for a moment, the world humming quietly around them. Bucky’s fingers found hers, their hands brushing again but this time, neither of them pulled away.

He squeezed her hand, like a silent promise, and she squeezed back.

When they finally went back inside, it wasn’t with a rushed, secretive energy anymore—it was quiet, deliberate.

This time, it wasn’t hiding.

This time, they knew.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x f! reader, established relationship, PIV sex, unprotected sex, semi- public sex, mirror sex Summary: Feeling needy at a party Eddie's taken you to in order to deal to the attendees, you steal him away and give him a different kind of show by making out with a woman to excite him. The woman? yourself. WC:1.8K

A/N: Was I drunk when I came up with this? yup. Was I drunk when I sat down and wrote it? yupx2. Am I drunk right now? honey, what do you think? anyway, enjoy!

"Show me"

He stares you down in that way that makes the guest bathroom feel much smaller than it actually was, like there might not even be enough air for the both of you to occupy it at the same time with the way he keeps stealing your breath.

You could still hear the music echo as it continued to blare outside, the beer you'd downed to give yourself the courage to whisper into Eddie's ear in the first place now sloshing around inside your belly, adding to the intensity of having his eyes roving all over you.

It all began an hour into Todd Henley's party, fed up of all the drunken bodies swaying around as they bumped right into you without apology before they passed by on unsteady legs.

But what irked you the most was that half the crowd had been spending more time with your boyfriend than you were able to all night, all of them handing him crumpled dollars in exchange for little baggies and whatever else he could fit in his pockets to keep the partygoers' spirits high.

You couldn't take it for very much longer though. Unable to help yourself, you sprang into action just before Todd himself could attempt to approach Eddie, cutting in front of the birthday boy, entirely uncaring of the scowl that twisted Todd's lips because Eddie was all you could think about. And you let the latter know as much.

"I need you" you'd whined as you'd wrapped yourself around Eddie's arm when you pull him towards a lonelier corner of the room, all sweet and clingy and then a little more quietly; "watching you made me so wet".

As you'd expected, he's quick to grin at you when he takes your hand. Gently he led you through the crowd, even turning down a few potential customers like Todd who'd tried to approach Eddie with cash in hand, a quick but firm "not now" grunted at them over the music.

It made your hopes rise, growing giddy, thinking he'd take you back to his van to fool around, away from the rest of the party only to end up pouting when he'd pulls you into a vacant guest bathroom instead.

"Go on. Show me", he'd repeated again, still soft and patient with you, standing tall over you as you grow so pliant under his stare, giving in easily as you reach under your dress to pull your panties down to your mid thighs.

He observes closely as you part your legs as much as your underwear will allow, showing off the collection of slick sitting warm and wet on the thin red cotton.

Eddie whistles low as he sees it. "Looks serious", he mused, pressing his index finger into the middle of your panties. He pulls his damp finger back, rubbing it against his thumb and pulling them apart to watch a clear web of your essence develop between them.

Hoping you've pleased him enough you try again.

"Can we, Teddie? Please?", you make sure to dial up the sweetness, all saccharine and cute as your plead.

But the thing is Eddie sometimes liked to have fun with you at times likes these, anything to work up his girl in good jest as another toothy grin develop on his face. "Sorry. Still got some dealing to do, angel face", he explains, looking the opposite of apologetic about it until he sees your face crumble and fall.

"Hey hey, I'm only teasing", he's quick to drop the suave, unwavering persona he treats his customers with for his usual rough around the edges kind of natural warmth, kissing your wobbling bottom lip hard for good measure. "You know I'd never turn you down", he makes sure to add, taking your hand and pressing it over his clothed erection to show you that he's telling the truth, feeling relieved when your lips spread into a smile.

"Tell you what. Since we're already in here why don't we just make use of it?", he offers with a cheesy grin and raising his brows in a way that comes off more cartoonish than it does suggestive but it makes you happy nonetheless. He chuckles at the way your whole face lights up at the suggestion because honestly, you couldn't wait any longer, reaching behind Eddie to lock the door shut.

~

You warmed up to getting led in here by Eddie even more when you noticed how the room smelled pleasantly of white jasmine thanks to a little sachet of air freshener hung up on the door handle. The living room where most of the party had congregated including yourself for that one hour was all booze and smoke and sweaty bodies barely guised by cheep perfume and cologne, and for that reason you were glad to be away from it all and not sifting through the thick crowd of people to get to the van.

But mostly, you liked getting handsy in Todd's guest bathroom because unlike Eddie's van, this had a mirror.

When you bend over the sink, you do so quickly and willingly, making Eddie huff out a small laugh through his nose. Carefully he gathers as much of your hair as he can in one hand, pulling on it to encourage you to keep your eyes on each other's reflections in front of you.

It's a filthy sight when you're made to look at yourself. Your tits are spilling out over the top of your dress, made so by when Eddie carefully pulled at it enough to free them, pinching, pulling and nipping at them before he settled you in this new position facing away from him.

With your panties drawn down a few inches above your knees, you could feel Eddie pull your dress up over your ass, eagerly pressing his turgid cock between your thighs once he's pried it out his boxers, the fat tip and length of his cock gliding between your folds and against your puffy clit perfectly.

Watching closely in the mirror, you memorize the little knit between his brows as he does it, a thrill coursing through you as his cheeks then blend from a light pink to a deep mauve while he humps between your thighs.

"Y' ready for me?" he huffs, his lips parted as he looks to your reflection for an answer.

"I'm ready. Please, Teddie. Been waiting all night", you whine back to him over your shoulder, catching the way the corner of his mouth picks up into a smirk.

He's inside you not long after that, stretching you with his thickness which even after all this time, still makes you hiss through the initial sting. But you've never complained about it, always inclined to moan with a wave of pleasure especially now when his hips connect with your ass, bouncing against him while he has both of his hands set firmly just below your waist to keep you steady.

It's not gentle the way Eddie pummels into you but it is a steady and easy climb towards your release. It's because he knows exactly what it takes to make you cum, just minutes of him thrusting into that spot inside you that only he can reach until your belly's winding tight and your toes start to curl inside your shoes.

"Eds, I'm close", you squeak, more a warning than anything else when he pulls at your hair again. Your knees are quick to wobble when he makes you watch yourself getting ruined by him, noticing the runny mascara down your cheeks and your pretty lipstick smudged near the corner of your mouth, bare tits bouncing with every thrust.

"God, you look so good. Go on baby, give yourself a kiss", he tells you through ragged grunts, his free hand landing a few spanks on your ass for good measure.

You do as you're told, leaning closer to your reflection, your lower stomach pressing against the sink in a way that in this position, makes it feel so much more intense with his cock still inside you.

Lips just centimeters away from the glass, the idea of making out with yourself didn't strike you as all that arousing at first, only going along with it because it was something Eddie had wanted and that was reason enough for you to oblige.

You begin by pressing your lips against the cold mirror, chaste at first until you see the desperation swirling behind your hooded eyes. You looked so utterly fucked out, lips parted and your tongue lolling out with a thin rivulet of drool dripping down to your chin. You liked it more than you could understand, especially with Eddie right behind you and in view too.

Finding yourself getting worked up the longer you keep at it, the fire burning inside you only burns bigger and brighter as you see Eddie's reflection while he keeps pumping into you, his bangs stuck to his forehead with a light sweat, his lips pink and full from his teeth biting down on it and the look he gives you when you eyes connect through the mirror.

"Y'like it don't you, doll?", he asks the obvious question just to see you squirm under him, his lips pulled back into a pleased smile as you muster up the strength to nod.

Your breath fogs up the mirror as you continue to pant through Eddie's thrusts, giving him a show as traces of your red lipstick are left behind from your kisses, growing more aroused at the sight of yourself taking Eddie's cock like this.

It's sloppy and oh so perfectly dirty. Eddie watches in amazement as you tongue at your own reflection, your swollen lips leaving traces of spit all over the mirror, uncaring if Todd or his family find the muddled mess of lipstick on their mirror by tomorrow.

"That's it. You see how pretty you look like this? can't help it can you? Good girl. Use your tongue a bit more for me, yeah? fucking perfect..."

It's different being fucked like this, half of you unsure of which reflection you ought to keep your eyes fixed on as you near your climax, deciding to switch from one to the other the closer you get.

Sighing and whimpering underneath Eddie, you mean to warn him just before you tipped over the edge but with your mouth so busy as you press one last kiss against the glass, Eddie can tell that you're cumming when you squeeze your walls around his cock sporadically, crying his name out with your cheek pressed against the once clean glass.

The sight of you all spent and the feeling of you clamping down on him triggers his own orgasm, creamy white spurts filling you up between your legs while he bites down on your shoulder, grunting so deeply by your ear as he thrusts through the final wave that overcomes him.

"You did so well, baby", he groans into your clammy skin during your mutual comedown, teeth grazing the place where he'd bitten down on you as you look up to smile at him lazily through the mirror. He admires you fondly through the mirror, one hand rubbing your back.

"Also", he pats his jacket pocket while he's still inside you. "Remind me to give Todd one on the house", he finishes and the both of you share a laugh, looking over the mess on the counter top and mirror as a result of your time together.

Yeah. Todd's definitely entitled to a freebie. That's for sure.

[nichoskittycorner]

I absolutely LOVED how you made my thoughts turn into reality (not) but I also noticed how you were hinting for a part 2(?) maybe? Maybe not?

Anyways, I have another thought that’s been haunting me for the past few days:

Bunny!you are put into a very dangerous situation where wolf!euijoo and wolf!nicho are both in the same place as bunny!you

but now you’re scared because, well they’re wolves, and they find your fear cute,

so they try to take you to care for you

but poor you are too scared to do anything, so they try to make you comfy by well…attending to your needs.

What are your needs? Well it’s kinda mating season and well you’re kinda horny so you just.. ya know… rut yourself into a pillow, but oh wait, wolf!nichojoo see that, so they help you…

take that and run with it bestie, just had to drop it on ya

Love, 🫧

First off, Thank you so much! I'm really glad to hear you enjoyed my mess of ramblings! I wasn't originally hinting at a pt 2 but maybe? Who knows 👀

Well I also love this idea a shit ton! Really hope I do it justice!

>> Bunny!Y/n, Wolf!Nicholas, Wolf!Euijoo, Threesome, double penetration, pretty sure there's more(?) anyway have fun :D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

- Bunny!Y/n who was out at a club with your friends before accidentally getting separated when heading out to the dancefloor. While looking for your friends, you got cornered by some male hybrids who obviously meant trouble and tried to escape, only to end up in a worse situation- Alone in an alleyway with these strangers

-The situation was far from good. You were only a short and squishy bunny against literal predator hybrids. You were as good as dead if they weren't trying to return your wallet to you or something

-The hybrids were getting closer and closer. A dangerous hunger in their eyes. With your back against a corner, all you could do was cower and pray for rescue

-Before you could be hurt or worse, two wolf hybrids approached from behind, their distinct and strong scents instantly making a statement

- "Hey! I think you jerks are prowling the wrong territory. Fuck off before we make this a problem." One of the wolves practically growled as he cracked his knuckles, stark red hair seeming to burn brighter at the prospect for a fight. Sharp eyes honing in on easy prey

-The second wolf looked just as annoyed with the situation. Jaw locked in placed but with his arms crossed, it looked like he was holding himself back from spilling blood. He looked a bit softer but still just as serious

- The wolves needed no explanation, instantly putting themselves in between you and the troublemakers. Things were tense, the air ready to burst into flames at the first wrong move

-Thankfully, the wolves stood their ground and the troublemakers left. Grumbling under their breaths about something you didn't want to hear, just grateful they were gone now

- Your saviors relaxed once the threat was out of range. Almost morphing into different people as they both eased up and offered gentle smiles. The softer looking wolf held his hand out to help you up

- You were still terrified, shaking but accepted his offer. You couldn't help it, they were wolves and you, now a lonely bunny were stuck with them in a dark alley.

-They introduce themselves as Euijoo and Nicholas. Now with names and friendly expressions, they were quite inviting. They offered to take you somewhere safe. But you're basically scared quiet and agree regardless of trying to be calm

-Nicholas and Euijoo take you back to their apartment which oversees the club, probably how they found you so fast.

-Euijoo led you to a room and told you it was okay to get comfortable. His round cheeks looked so soft and pinchable- your heart fluttered slightly as you sat down on the bed. Fingers clutching the sheets for dear life as you kept shaking

- Euijoo wanted to help you relax. You were so cute and looked like you were on the verge of tears since they found you. Fluffy powder tail twitching nonstop, ears pulled back and folding in constantly, watery eyes on full display

-All he was doing was sitting across from you but still, you wouldn't fully relax. Coming into the room, Nicholas had large fluffy blanket in his arms. Wrapping it around your shoulders to keep you warm

-Your hands gripped the edges and held it close to your body. Nicholas and Euijoo looked at each other, both feeling a need to protect and take care of you. But they knew you needed to get home

-They offer to look for your friends. Maybe familiar faces will help you relax and feel safe again

-You give them their names and picture as they didn't answer your calls and they quickly headed out. Urging they wouldn't take too long before leaving

-Now alone, you start thinking and your body starts reacting. They didn't seem to want trouble. Quite the opposite, they both felt so safe but you were too shaken to act accordingly. How silly of your bunny brain to not shake its instinct

-Even though they're wolves, they're were also very attractive! Plus the fact that they rescued you and didn't immediately make you dinner was also a relief, and a turn on

- It didnt help that you this the last night before your heat cycle began, sending you into a horny tizzy for a week until you could be normal again. This night was to just party and relax before that hell and it spiraled out of control

-You couldn't tell how late it was as the hectic night finally slowed down. Allowing you to stop shaking as you laid down and hugged the blanket, one that strongly smelled of those strong and handsome wolves

-You tried to ignore the tingling between your legs. Crossing them and trying to force yourself to sleep so you could ignore the sensation. It only backfired as the friction was adding to your urge

-Face and body heating up quickly as your hips started to move with more energy. The apartment was still quiet and their scents were nowhere close. How bad could getting a quick one out to sleep be?

-You normal brain told you to hold back, that the wolves could come back at any moment and would be horrified to see that. But the other part, the part that was burning and yearning to fuck wasn't listening

-Out of desperation, you quickly stripped your clothing and began touching your body. One hand playing with your chest and the other circling your wet clit

- The relief wasn't enough even after getting a quick orgasm out. Trying again didn't feel like enough, so you took the pillow from beneath your head, folded it and started to hump and rut into the plush fabric

-The rougher motion was more pleasurable, silently pushing you to continue such a lewd and embarrassing act

-Euijoo and Nicholas eventually returned, unable to find your friends. But now they were confused by the overwhelming scent and sounds radiating from the room you were left in

-Peeking in, they find you trying to get off. Crying, whimpering, and desperate. Tiny tail standing proudly in the air with your ass fully exposed to them. Flashes of your wet and hungry pussy graced their vision with each hip movement

-They approach slowly, trying not to starle you but also let you know of their presence. Once again, your instinct is to be frightened. But when recognition sets in, it changes into hunger and lust

-Euijoo speaks calmly, letting you know they couldnt find your friends but weren't listening anymore. Staring them down with a twitchy tail and hung open and drooling lips

-Taking in the scene, Nicholas segways into your situation, pointing out the obvious. That youre naked, humping a pillow and reek of lust. Letting you know they just want to help and despite your fear, you allow it as you're suffering

- How could you resist? Fit, beautiful, wolf hybrids standing before you. You could only imagine how amazing it would be for them to sink their sharp teeth into you or leave claw marks deep in your skin as they knotted and bred you like they owned you

- Your ears swung back and forth as you nodded eagerly as if to agree with their help. And who were they to deny such a cute bunny when you stared at them with pleading eyes?

-Taking the lead, Euijoo hoisted you into his lap and started massaging your sore breasts. His large and warm hands moved in calculated circles, occasionally pinching and tugging at the nipples and making you squirm

-With your legs spread open, Nicholas squatted down in between them, burying his nose in your wet folds and soaking in your heat before licking and sucking at it. Refusing to take it slow and already inserting a finger while teasing your clit with his tongue

- Maybe it was just how desperate your body was to be bred and touched but their efforts had you quaking in no time. Mewling and shaking as your rode out your high on Nicho's tongue

-They're amazing and you cum quickly but beg for more as it's not enough. If anything, that one orgasm sent your body into an even more desperate state.

-You plead and whine and beg for them to fuck you, do whatever they want with your body just make you feel good

-Despite your smaller size in comparison to the wolves, you manage to wiggle free- who knew horny was such a strong emotion?

- With Euijoo still seated on the bed, you straddle his lap. The force nearly knocking him over. Your hands fiddled with his pants before successfully removing them- leaving his red wolf cock exposed and sprang out once freed

-Nicholas was amused at how quick and feverish your movements were, even flustering his friend in the process. As he watched, you wasted no prepping or teasing and inserted his tip inside your pussy

-His girth barely phased you as you lowered your hips and bottomed out until your hips connected. Your dripping pussy aided in such a feral endeavor as you lifted your hips before repeating the process

-You rode his cock without a care in the world, panting and whimpering as his hands dug into your hips to steady you (and maybe himself)

-How quickly you had taken over the situation was both mind boggling but very amusing to the wolves. Euijoo who was trying his hardest to not pin you down and fuck you senseless- and Nicholas who found this whole situation right up his alley

-While riding Euijoo, he decided to also help out. Snaking his arms under yours, one hand holding you by throat, a light squeeze sending a new rush down your body- and his other hand playfully rubbing and flicking at your clit

- Reaching your orgasm was so easy with these two. It's like they knew exactly how to play with your body and made you melt. Your brain going numb as all you wanted was more from them

-To go harder, faster, to stretch you out until there was a permanent mark of these wolves in your body as they knotted you up and maybe even kept you here

-It was completely insane to think such things but when you were in heat, you never were the reasonable or sensible type

- And it definitely felt that way to the wolves who were before you. Taken aback from your original innocent display in a sex craved animal at your core

-After the 3rd time you had cum on Euijoos cock, you started to whine and grind your hips on him. Confused, he asked what was wrong or if you wanted to change something

-Change something? Yes. You wanted more. Not just postions or how fast or hard you were being fucked, you needed more of them. More of their cocks

-Shifting your hips till you were on your knees and only Euijoos tip was still inside, your ass and tail wagging before his friend

-The message wasn't completely clear, we're you asking for his hand? maybe his mouth? Nicholas didn't want to guess wrong. Lucky for him you were impatient and answered the question yourself

-Reaching back and tearing his pants down until his own hard cock was exposed. Taking the hot, thick flesh into your hand and pumped him a few times, earning a groan of satisfaction before beckoning him forward

-Were you going to suck him off? That would seem like a normal follow up to that action but the horny bunny wanted more cock and that's what you would get

-Lining up Nicho's tip at your entrance at well before sliding on it with ease

-It happened so fast, neither wolf had a chance to urge you that it might be too much and you should reconsider. But when the room filled with the moans and groans and satisfaction from them both, the concern was gone

- This, this was perfect now, riding and being fucked by two gorgeous wolf cocks, sending your mind spiraling and your body tingling nonstop- the stretch of your soaked pussy taking them in so easily and yet squeezing so tightly was mindnumbingly deliciously

- Their hands, lips, and teeth were all over you. Someone had pulled you by the ears, while another kissed your neck leaving a trail of bites and marks

-While one sucked on your boobs, using their tongue to tease the nipples, another had his claws dug into your hips and pounding ruthlessly into you

- That's not to mention how stuffed you were with their cum very quickly, urging them for more as you could hear tails wagging against the mattress or skin and their primal growls and snarls take over instead of words

- Just when you would start to think it was too much, you stopped thinking at all as another orgasm hit you. Your entire body overtaken by waves of neverending pleasure as the mess of their sheets only got bigger and so did your desire to be filled with wolf pups

- Time blurred and fuzzed and you didn't care. Even when your phone rang endlessly as the morning sun started to peek over the horizon it was all a blur to you

-All you knew is that you wanted to stay where you were. Being bred and fucked by two glorious wolves who saved you and now you were willing to carry their pups (or maybe that was the heat brain talking)

-Even when their thick knots started to form and threatened to stuff you so they couldn't leave, none of you cared and you welcomed the sensation with open arms

-Regardless, you were their bunny cum slut for this heat cycle, and maybe many more in the future

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[spiderb00]

Game Strategy - Manon Bannerman

Manon Bannerman X reader 

Synopsis: Your girlfriend sabotages you on the laser tag. 

Genre: Fluff  

a/n: I love Manon, I had this draft saved for so long, but I got sick and only finish it today, so, here it is. <3 

The bright lights were contagious, we were all agitated and impatient waiting for our turn to enter the room. The teams were separated, and we were all talking and teasing each other. Unfortunately, my girlfriend, Manon, and I were on different teams. Manon led a team with Daniela, Lara, and three other friends of ours, while I led a team with Sophia, Yoonchae, Megan, and two other friends.   

I loved Manon, but all she knew how to do since we decided on the teams was tease me. She wouldn't stop talking for a second, and honestly, I'm too passionate to just not pay attention to every word of teasing that comes out of her mouth. 

"Baby, you know I'm not going to go easy on you, don't you?" Manon said, approaching and pretending to fix my vest.  

"I don't need you to take it easy beautiful, I'm going to win anyway." I said as I pulled her by the waist.   

"Ew, get a room." Daniela says, interrupting our moment and getting laughs from everyone.  

Manon looks at me with a smile, I'll never understand what I did to deserve this woman.  

"How about a bet?" The girl with pigtails says as she puts her arms around my neck.   

"A bet, uh?" I ask as I rest my hands on his waist.   

"Uhm... If you win, you can choose how we end the night..." She says with a smile on her face. "But if I win, you'll have to do everything I want."  

"Anything?" I ask, wondering if it's worth accepting or not.   

"Whatever goes through my mind." Manon says, now as she runs her fingers through my hair and tilts her head waiting for my answer. 

"It's okay, I'll deal with it. You're going to lose anyway." I say, hearing her giggle and walk away as the Laser tag employee says it's our turn to enter.  

When everyone is in their positions, the vests glow indicating that they are working and we all start to move, the adrenaline makes it seem like it's all or nothing, at least for me, in the face of the bet I accepted. 

I still couldn't get hit, but I had already shot Lara and one of the guys on Manon's team. As I passed by I saw someone behind a wall shooting Megan, as soon as the person came out of hiding I could see that it was my beautiful girlfriend. I ran for cover, I could hear Manon's footsteps following me and when I saw it, I was totally cornered.  

It turns out that apparently I had run to a place of no exit, Manon who was now in front of me gave a victorious smile as she slowly approached.   

"I told you you would lose baby." The girl says as she points the gun at me, making me mirror the movement.  

"I can shoot you first, and then you'll lose." My hand was seriously shaking now.   

"You wouldn't do that to me baby, you love me too much for that." Manon says as she puts her hands on my neck, gently caressing the back of my neck and making me a little nervous. 

"I... I can shoot..."   

"But you won't," she says as she looks into my eyes and moves closer to my lips. "Kiss me." 

"You're going to kill me one day." I say as I drop the gun and wrap my arms around the girl's waist.  

Her lips were soft, sweet and kissing her was the best thing in the world, I could stay there for the rest of my life. My hands were on her waist and as much as I wanted to take them down a little more, I had in mind that we were in a public place and it was a miracle that we were not caught. Anyway the moment didn't last long, we were torn from our own little world with a loud sound.  

As I looked down, Manon's gun was pointed at me while my vest was glowing, indicating that I was out and that the match was over.   

"I told you you were going to lose." Manon said with a smile on her face, her hands going down and intertwining with mine.  

"That's not fair, you distracted me, you basically cheated." I said as I let her drag me out. 

"Relax, big baby. I won, but you'll like what I have planned as much as I will." 

--------------

the people working at laser tag watching Yn and Manon through the cameras

[verlaineszz]

"My lover, take cover, it's time for fire!"

PRINCESS AFAB! READER x YOKAI! FOREST PROTECTER DAZAI!

( ၴႅၴ+—SUMMARY: The kingdom particularly wasn't fond of the princess due to the conservative misogynistic beliefs, they expected a boy from the start to take over the throne, so the mistreatment happened since the princess was born. Jagged breathing filled the air as the princess ran through the forest as an escape, it was the middle of the night before the princess hid behind a tree, taking deep breaths and looking around before getting surrounded by a red fog and circled by a tall figure with tails and ears, a figure that was sooned to be destined the princess's savior.

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖FLUFF + SLIGHT ANGST + ROYAL AU˖˚ֶָ֢‧࿔

A/N: I'll let you guys get a good ending.. I guess........ ;-;

also the first part is just a backstory and before reader ran away!!

ᯓ ⁺₊ ♱ .ᐟ — WARNINGS: Cursing, small super duper small mention of blood, a good ending, misogyny (from the kingdom, not dazai -_-..), petnames

Originally, the kingdom wanted a boy. Everybody was praying for another boy to be born since the first beliefs everyone had, that a man will always be stronger, and will always be the one that would do better on the throne. All the kingdoms joy slowly dissappeared when they heard a female was the one that was gonna be born, everyone became devasted.. Which led you to being known as a disappointment to the entire kingdom. All eyes went to your younger brother, same features as you and characteristics but the difference was, he was a male.

The favoritism between you and your brother was so different. Your parents indifference towards you was evident that you weren't special to them.

All this treatment towards your brother made him act immature and spoiled.

Now to present times.. Your parents currently made a fool out of you during one of the royal events, while they praised your brother. During the whole scenario, your hands were clutched and your knuckles white, it hurt. Everyone stared and laugh, your own family did this to you.

As they laugh, you slowly excused yourself and walk away, the second you left the sights of the crowd, you ran. You ran as fast as you could. You went in your room and removed some of the layerd of your dress, everything was heavy. It was overstimulating, tears escaped from your eyes because of how much anger you held against your family, you wore something lighter to go out, some longer bloomers, socks, an above the ankle length skirt and you packed your things in a slingbag, a dagger slid down the thigh garter pocket incase of self defense, you took your cloak and put it around you.

You looked around and outside the window if anyone was watching you, you were paranoid. It was already near dark so you snuck out.

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉°‧₊˚.

Running through the woods was tough, the rough and spikey rocks were always in the way, it was getting dark but atleast the stars and the moonlight illuminated brightly so you can atleast have some light source, during the first period of running, you tripped and scraped your knee multipe times, you couldn't help to run. You felt all the negative feelings anyway..

Your breath was unsteady, the blood dripped down your knee and you slowed down, your movements became sluggish, you sigh and walk farther in the forest, having no clue where you even were right now. You had a map but you were too tired to get it out, as you walked sluggishly, at the corner of your eye you saw something. A black figure circling fast.

You gulped and stop dead at your tracks from fear, this can't be happening right? You weren't even aware that there. Might've been ghosts around the area, you cover your mouth with shakey arms to stop yourself from screaming, you began to ran.

Your breath became jagged as you ran, sweat trickled dowm your back as you ran, without looking down where you stepped, you tripped again. Leaving a patch of blood on the ground, you try to catch your breath and you sit down, leaning on a tree before seeing red fog.. It was a beautiful crimson red. You crawl backwards, letting out a gasp as a tall figure immerged from the fog, he had brown brunette hair, brown eyes, 9 tails and fox ears on his head.. He grinned as he looked at you, walking to you slowly.

He wore a dark crimson red hakama kimono and a mischievous grin.

"What the.. Who are you?! Don't get any closer!" you yelled, he tilted his head to the side with pursed lips, he stared at your bleeding legs and bruised arms. You notice this action and cover them up, he sighed and obliged, not getting any closer since he respected your boundaries.

"But your injured. I can smell the reek of blood from you, yknow." he pouted and looked to the side with his arms crossed, still keeping a safe distance from you.

"This is none of your business." you snarked back

"Maybe it is." he grinned at you, he already knew who you were, he has been guarding the forests for years, he always knows what the news are in the city, and that led him to catch an interest towards you, he somehow empathizes with you.

"Unless you want that to get infected." he slowly walked closer to you, he bent down and checked your wounds as you sat there, not really knowing what to do.. He was quite attractive, but then again, you don't trust anyone.. But he did have a point.

You look to the side and scratch the behind of your neck, his presence was oddly comforting but the suddenness made you feel weird, it was like a paradox, and you didn't know if you should let him get even near you.. He had 9 tails and ears for godsake...

He looked at your tearstained face and he smiles softly, "Do you have a place to stay at? What're you even doing here anyway.."

"... I dont, but I'm here because i ran away."

"tsk tsk tsk.." he shaked his head, "Don't be so reckless next time, since you are a pretty little thing. Why dont i help you out?"

You raise a brow, "Really? You will?" you ask skeptically.

He chuckles and puts his hands on your wounds, your eyes widens when he touched you, it stung before a crimson glow emitted from his hand, the glow healed your wounds.

"Wait..how..?" you look back at him in awe, he laughed and rest his elbow on his knee while his cheek was againts his palm. "Don't worry about that bella, do you want a place to stay at for tonight?"

You blinked, "uh.. And how do i know i can trust you?"

"I just healed you?" he replied back.

He did have a point.. "Okay, i do need a place to stay at for tonight."

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

The trip to his realm was breathtaking, it was a whole nother realm. The crimson realm. The moon was a glowy red, the trees were red leaved weeping willows and there were red lamps everywhere, and a row of toriis.

Everything had a beautiful illuminating red, as you left the multiple rows of torii gates stairs, you were greeted with bustling red and orange lights, chatter, and a tune played by a shamisen, dazai patted your head and turned your attention to him. "That's just the market, my dear. Let's go to my place." he smiled softly at you.

"okay.." you nodded and followed him.

The forest full of weeping red leafed willows and a beautiful clear river that reflected the moonlight was beautiful, he walked through the path and walk on a tall red bridge. The bridge was high, you looked down and saw a white fog abyss. Dazai smirked and tapped your shoulder, pointing at the sky. The sky was a beautiful glowy dark red, it was only red because the moon illuminated it. Up at the distance were floating foggy houses, it was all floating in the sky, you smiled softly and chuckled, you were definitely happy that you went with him.

He notices your smile and he chuckles, finding your little reactions cute.

The ongoing trip was beautiful, everything was so picturesque and this is probably the most happiest you have ever been, you and dazai eventually reached his home.. And his house was big.. It isn't even a house, it was a mansion. It was a tall tenshu. The length of the house was so tall that you couldn't even see the top, it was ongoing into the foggy abyss up in the sky.

"This is absolutely gorgeous." you say in awe while you stared.

"Aw.. Thank you!" dazai chuckled.

The trip into his palace was like a Rollercoaster, there were multiple foxes guiding the both of you into it, "If you ever get lost, just ask one of the foxes, this place is infinite so don't try to find out whats the highest floor."

Oh.. Err.. You nod and continue following him along the way, each step, walls kept changing, his place was a maze and a puzzle that only he could solve.

"So, er.. Why are you taking me in?" you asked as you followed him in little puppy steps.

"Well why not? You're a pretty little thing and i can't leave you alone in the woods can i?" he smirked and tilted his head to the side abit as you followed him into his room

The scent of something floral flooded your nose, he really did know how to keep a place looking sleek. Red and yellow lamps surrounded the hallways, you follow dazai and as he tours you around, you notice how lonely it must be in his big place.

He sits you down on a chabudai table which already had food laid out on it, brewed tea and chopsticks, as if dazai knew he'd be taking you home for tonight.

He sits right infront of you, a cocky smirk plastered on his face, "so how do you like this place?"

"The aroma and the art in this place is beautiful." you reply back with a chuckle, gently taking the chopsticks and looking at the food served at the table, as soon you took the chopsticks, he did as well, eating the same phase as you while talking.

"Not as beautiful as you though!" he mutters in a sing-song tone, like he was saying it sarcastically, when he fully knows, he meant it.

"Oh cut that out" you snarked back, before chuckling. As soon as the corners of your lips turned up, dazai felt pleased with himself, staring at your pretty face and thinking about how you'd look tainted in his affection and obsession.

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

After their meal together, dazai leads you to the red and yellow lamp lit halls, with foxes lying around and playing everywhere, the atmosphere calm with a faint shamisen sound filled the halls with a low hum of an energy that reeked of awaiting and satisfaction.. Since dazai did create this realm in his own magick, surely must of hus thoughts or emotions have been engraved in the air right?

Dazai leads yoy down a long, shadowed corridor. His usual aloofness has melted away, and he seems to radiate a possessive intensity, his eyes watching your every movement as you are his most precious treasure and priority.

Finally, he stops in front of a large, ornate door, its wood dark and polished, the carvings on it glowing faintly as if they’re alive. He opens the door and gestures for you to step inside, what a gentleman i guess?

The room is extravagant, more extravagant than your room in your own home. Every corner of the room is adorned with trinkets and ornaments that flows a mysterious, ancient charm, treasures he has collected over countless centuries, just to impress you.

Dazai’s gaze never leaves her, his expression dark with yearning. “This is all yours now,” he says, voice low. "Just for you, my dear." he winked.

There’s a strange glint in his eyes that you couldn't put a finger to. Was it a glint of approval? Promiscuity?

He swiftly walks behind you, extending a hand to pat your head, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles, making you jump abit.

Days turn to weeks and weeks turn into months, and each and every day, Dazai's obsession deepens, a deep affection eating him with urges of wanting your touch and words, say his name and he's wrapped around your finger.

Every morning, he is there whenever you wake up, as if he was watching your every move.. Always greeting you with a possesive look, always feeding you delicacies from both the human world and his own Realm, dishes and delights reserved only for royalty. He takes his time to pour you tea, serving you as though you were an empress and he , your one and only devoted subject.

Though during the first few weeks of dazai acting like you were the empress of the realm, some spirits first looked at you with suspicion.. Since you are a human lady. But slowly and surely, the way dazai looked at you and how you somehow always reject his advances, the spirit folks got used to it, worshipping you slowly as dazais influence spread around the realm like wildfire. Giving you the royal attention and treatment you deserved.

By night, Dazai stands guard at your door or sits beside you, gently peppering your knuckles with kisses, his gaze lingering over you with an almost feverish intensity. He often brushes his fingers along yoru hand, and though his touch is gentle, there’s a power behind it.. a silent oath that promises to keep you safe, adored, and worshipped.

Unbeknownst to you, Dazai has already begun initiating his planned wrath upon the family that mistreated you..

In the mortal realm, your family’s wealth starts to burn into ash slowly, their alliances falling apart in ways that seem like mere misfortunes but are far too perfectly timed..

Of course, dazai, the bastard he is, never told you.. Since he was too busy giving you a good time so you'd never even think of leaving his realm that he made just for you, within each touch from you shoulder to your neck, blood is already dripping down from the neck of the people who hurt you,

And each night, as you drifts off to sleep in your room adorned with luxury, Dazai’s adoration swells to something beyond mortal love.

A/n: this fic is super rushed... I was originally gonna make it more bloody but i got tired. Giving you guys a taste of fluff.

© All works by @Verlaineszz. Do not copy, redistribute, or repost on other platforms.

[lightlycareless]

I have a fluffy idea for you! What if Naoya and Y/N had gotten in a fight/argument that’s left them upset with each other but maybe it happened in front of the kids or they eavesdropped. And maybe they’ve never seen them this upset with each other so the kids worry that they might get divorced(after that one fic about death you posted, I wouldn’t be surprised if Naoaki got this in their heads too or maybe that’s too far for him even) so the kids make a plan to make Naoya and Y/N make up

Helloooooo!!

Aww this was really cute to read 🥺 as twisted as that might sound since I never enjoyed the idea of the kids seeing their parents upset lol. Still, didn't stop me from writing a lil something I hope y'all enjoy!!

Also, because of fluff, we have to remove Naoaki of the formula but believe me it would NOT be below him to tell them ugly things about their parents 😡 he'd probably go on saying things like "Oh, no... they're going to divorce now!!) .I.

btw... I am unsure of what fic you mean but I'll tag this one just to be sure 🙈 I'm sorry.

Anyways, here are the warnings: none. fluff. you and naoya are married and have 4 kids hahahahahahahhahaha a tiny bit of angst, there was an argument after all.

Happy reading!

Arguments between the two most of the time, if not always, consist with you not agreeing to something Naoya’s family demands, and his subsequent inaction to do something about it.

You try to be understanding of his situation, it sucks to be the child of a family that is always looking for their personal benefit, careless how it affects others… but just how much are you be able to excuse before it becomes too much? Before it begins to affect your family?

How much are you willing to tolerate… in the name of the love you have for Naoya?

There were limits to your patience, and once the little things began to bundle up, you snapped.

“Fine! If that’s how it’s going to be, then… then I guess I—I don’t have anything to do here!” you cry, tears in the corner of your eyes as you swiftly turned around and exited the room, leaving behind a frustrated Naoya, too angered to do anything else but stare at your distancing figure, as well as the disheartened children who had unfortunately caught wind of their argument.

The two always made sure to keep discussions out of their earshot, your problems shouldn’t become their burden… however, maybe because it was a heat of a moment kind of thing that led to this oversight, or perhaps you were too loud, they now went through the misfortune of seeing this.

Their father soon attempted to ease their worries.

“It was just an argument; your mama and I had these before.” Naoya explains. “We’ll be fine.”

“I never seen mom this angry before.” Naomi adds.

“Or angry at all…” Naori adds. “With you, I mean.”

Naoya sighs. Well, he didn’t know whether to be impressed by your diligence or upset that it crumbled today.

“Do you hate mama now?” Naoko dared ask, and Naoya’s eyes snap wide open.

“What? No. I don’t hate her. We just had a disagreement!”

But your consistent ignorance of the bouquet of roses and boxes of mochi he got you right after cooling down, hoping to strike a peace treaty and leave all this behind, started to indicate otherwise.

Your interactions, or lack of, grew more and more prominent…

Yet, it wasn’t until your refusal to sleep in the same bed as him (as if having your meals separately weren’t enough) was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

And ultimately, the ones hurting the most were your children.

Whom at the unfamiliarity of their parent’s differences, decided to make finding a solution their utmost priority, be the ones in charge of saving their family which at a larger scale was like saving the world. For them, at least.

“We have to help them.” Naoko suggested to the council, as Naori named it so. “Before it gets too late!”

“It must’ve been pretty serious if mama isn’t talking to papa anymore…” Naoyuki added. “Does she hate her now?”

“No.” Naomi firmly assessed. Because it’s not the first time she’s questioned this herself, nor the first time she sees them not getting along (which may or may not influenced her perception about her father…)

But it is the first time she’d ever seen her mother so upset. Enough for you to deny it when confronted about it, and you’ve always been transparent when it comes to emotions and how sometimes not everything goes as expected!!

To make matters worse, her aunties aren’t any better, as if sworn absolute secrecy and loyalty towards you, your staff had made it their life mission to avoid all her questions, even going as far as acting like it was all in her imagination.

“Your mom is just busy, that’s all! You know how the life is here at the estate… always chaotic.” Mariya shrugs her worries away.

If Naomi had been 5 years old, maybe she would’ve believed her.

However, her options were far from running out, and when one proved to be inadequate, she simply went onto the next, to the only other person she knew she could trust with her life—your side of the family, her grandfather.

The overbearing grandpa who was always ready to jump into action if need be, yet careful enough to not disclose too much and eventually cause more harm than good. Naomi could see it in her parents’ exhaustion that, as much as they enjoyed his company, he was… quite something.

“Naomi-nee… what if our parents divorce?” Naori dared wonder in the dead of night, in her room after everyone went to sleep. As the eldest, Naomi was the voice of reason amongst all the siblings, but she was always closer to her immediate younger brother—she doesn’t recall ever being so excited to be an older sister than the time she was to become one for the first time. “I… I don’t want them to separate.”

“They won’t, Naori.”

“But I’ve never seen them so upset… do you think mama hates papa now?”

Never. Of course not. You wouldn’t put up with someone as peculiar as her father if you didn’t.

…

And her father wouldn’t try his hardest to make you happy if he didn’t love you either.

A meeting with her grandfather was long overdue.

“Oh, Naomi… how long have they been like this?” Eiichi laments, imagining how distraught his grandchildren must be because of this situation. But of course, never leaving you out of his mind, equally worried about the mental state you must be in to have done such a thing.

Extending over to Naoya as well, the young man whom he once thought as the worst option for a husband for his lovely daughter—but now, a marriage and 4 children later, that is no longer the case. Naoya has proven to be a good man, someone he could trust with taking care of one of his most precious, and the recipient of his concerns as well.

“For a week now… and it doesn’t seem like it’s getting any better.” Naomi responds. “I need your help, jiji. I want them to make up already before they decide… maybe to—”

“They won’t do anything harsh.” Eiichi reassures her. He knows his daughter; he knows his in-law. They’d rather go through the nine circles of hell than live without the other.

Still, this is a problem that undoubtedly needs attention, for bottled issues lead to even bigger problems in the future, and as a widowed man, the last thing he wants is seeing his daughter live with regret towards her husband.

“Then what do I do?” Naomi asks.

“It’s not really your responsibility to do so, Naomi. But, if you must…”

Remembering the special moments of this relationship is a nice way to start, like what made you decide you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Naoya.

So, after extensive consideration and careful planification, Naomi and the rest of her siblings decide to pester their parents into going to the fair that’s set up this time of year in the city, with all the games and food anyone could enjoy to their hearts delight—the perfect escape from the mundane, repetitive everyday life of the estate.

You were initially against it, and not because you didn’t want to take them (going to the fair sounded delightful) but rather because they insisted so much on bringing Naoya along, which you had yet to make amends with him, and the last thing you wanted was to make things uncomfortable.

But you knew better than to resist your children, and so, you’ve saved the date for Saturday.

“Come on mama, we’re going to be late!” Naoyuki gasped, tugging at your sleeve with such unparalleled enthusiasm you couldn’t help but smile. “We have to get there before it gets too crowded!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you chuckle, letting your youngest guide you towards the exit, where a car was already on standby by the servants. Naoya had gotten a bigger car to accommodate his quickly growing family not so long ago, though unfortunately it’s not used as frequently as you would’ve liked—mainly because you weren’t comfortable driving such a big car, not without Naoya anyways... and because it’s rare that all of you go out together.

Between Naomi’s school life, your growing responsibilities the older Naobito becomes, and Naoya’s availability… yeah. What a waste.

“I hope you brought a sweater, honey. It’s going to be quite cold out there.”

“I did, mama.” He says. “I always do, Naoko doesn’t though…”

“That’s not true!” She cries back. “You’re the one that doesn’t bring one, I always have to share mine!”

“There’s no need to fight over that. dumpling” You smile. “I just need to make sure the two brought something warm to wear later on.”

“I checked if they brought something too.” Naomi adds. “So don’t worry about that, they did.”

“Thank you, pumpkin.” You say. “But it’s your siblings’ responsibility to do that… right?”

The kids nod, Naomi shrugs.

“…what about you, my love? Have you brought something warm?” Naoya suddenly asks, seizing this moment to hopefully get an interaction from you; but you simply dismiss him with a curt hum, followed by a low yes before returning to your children and helping them onto the car.

Your husband pressed his lips together in disappointment before and getting to the driver’s seat, a sight that the children could only take in with great sadness and worry, doubting if their nee-san’s plan even had a purpose.

“It’s too early for that.” Naomi comforts them. “But trust me, it’ll work.”

… she just hopes she isn’t wrong.

“What is the plan?” you murmured, trying to not get overwhelmed by the vast amount of food, games, and all in between to be found from one corner to the other. Wherever you looked, there was not a single spot that wasn’t set up to offer a good time or at least get money out of your pocket.

Well, at least your children will be thoroughly entertained, though they had another goal in mind:

«Remember, we have to make it as casual as possible. Not make anything that might look suspicious!!»

With Naomi’s cautionary words in mind, the children made haste for their attempt of stealthiness, comparable to their father when out working with curses and such—they had it in their blood after all, all they set their mind to is easily achievable.

“Let’s go here first, mama!” Naoko pointed to a nearby stand, a game that consisted of gathering points by throwing hoops. The little girl did her best to score the highest, but in the end, she barely got one.

Luckily, she was not too distraught by that fact, for she knew there was a solution to it. Or perhaps it was all part of her plan?

“Mama, tell papa to win me a prize!” she quickly demands, tugging at your yukata and pulling you towards her dad. “Pleaseeeee?”

“Ah, well, pudding, I’m sure you could tell him—”

“He can win something for mom too, you know?” Naomi suggested, and through the corner of her eye she swears seeing her father get excited at the notion, the briefest opportunity to talk to his wife and make her happy through a silly plushie…

Only to dim the light in his eye when you shake your head, saying:

“No, it’s ok. it’s not necessary, I’m fine just watching.”

Naomi sighs. She didn’t like the idea of taking a harsher approach but your attitude and her dad’s unwillingness to step up too has her reconsidering.

She didn’t want to employ this so soon, but if she must…

“I want to go on the Ferris wheel.” Naomi suddenly declares.

“Don’t you want to try out some of the games first?” You ask, somehow a bit… unsettled by her request. The reason? Only you will know.

“No, right now is perfect; if we wait a little longer there’ll be a long queue.” She explains. “And I don’t want to wait.”

“Makes sense… sure; let’s go. Anyone else wants to go?” you look at your children, they all nod.

“I think all of us.” Naomi responded. “But I’m not sure if we all fit in the same pod...”

“I’m sure we can arrange something so none of the kids are alone, how about I go with Naoyuki and Naoko, and your papa goes with Naomi and Naori?”

“But I want to go with you, mom.” Naori whines.

“Yeah, me too.” Naomi adds. “No offense, dad.”

“I’ll sit this one out, then.” Naoya responds.

“Ah, no, that’s not fair either.” Naomi frowns—she’s not about to let her father ruin this too! “We all go, or no one does.”

Naoya raises an eyebrow; since when did his little girl become so bold? Ah, he sure misses the days where she’d happily go along with whatever her parents said… but at the same time, he was glad to see the sturdy young woman, that will not take any garbage thrown at her, she had become.

“Fine, I’ll go.” Naoya says, and the family heads over to the ride, but not without him gesturing the kids to go in front of them of course, which Naomi did not agree with, not if her plan was to unfold appropriately… thankfully, she had her sibling’s loyalty to rely on, which she did not hesitate to exploit.

“Kids…” You warned, trying to take hold of one of your children but they only seemed to do what you told them not to even more! Just as… well, not really. They were always obedient. What’s gotten into them? “I need you to stand before me, please. Or we won’t go.”

“Don’t worry mom, I got it.” Naomi reassures, making you sigh. Always the reliable one, you’re glad that your daughter is someone you can trust when support is needed, though you’re not happy at the fact she seemed to have more authority than you over her siblings. Ah, but if you only knew what she was planning. “You and dad go on; I’ll get my siblings to join soon.”

Wholeheartedly expecting to see just that: your kids waiting for you to get ready before helping them up—

But the moment you and Naoya were inside, the door was firmly shut, and the ride set in motion! The employee simply doing what he was bribed into after getting a taste of the Zen’in fortune by your eldest, ensuing an exasperated, rightfully furious set of parents that quickly demanded the door to be open, less he wished to suffer the consequences.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, bastard!” Naoya fumed, still debating whether to use his technique to break free, and bring along even more severe problems, such as endangering you and everyone around… or not. He chose not to. “Open this door, now!”

“Naoya—the kids, they’re—” you fret, all kinds of horrible scenarios crossing through your mind as you glanced out the window and down to them: anticipating finding them equally distraught by this occurrence, tears soaking their cheeks as they cried to be reunited with their parents—

Only to be shocked at their reactions, not only different to what you expected, but the vast opposite!

Naomi, Naori, Naoko, and Naoyuki bearing bright smiles on their faces while waving goodbye to you and Naoya, in such optimistic matter that you could only assume was intentional.

You didn’t know whether to be elated they were far away from any immediate danger or be angry to have pulled something like this!

“Have fun!!” Naomi cheers when the two start going up.

But when you were still debating, Naoya had long set his mind.

“I’m giving all of them a piece of my mind once we get down.” Naoya warned, no one was to escape a much-deserved reprimand; though a bit harsher on the employee than with his own kids.

Until then, however. the two were forced to remain in this situation that grew quickly familiar the higher you went, culminating at the very top where each pod would have a few seconds to rejoice the view of the city at night.

The exact same situation Naoya and you found themselves many years ago, when you first—

“Are you cold?” Naoya suddenly asks, and you blink out of your thoughts, completely unprepared for his approach.

But who are you trying to fool? Naoya has been nothing but insistent when it came to reaching out to you; if anything, it should’ve been obvious he’d do so again. Perhaps your reaction stemmed more from the fact he still tried.

Even after all your rejections, he still tries.

Will this occasion be any different?

“No, I’m… fine.” You murmur, it was impossible considering all the layers underneath your kimono. “You?”

“I’m good.” He responds. Though the conversation runs ironically cold, with the two continuing to mindlessly look anywhere else but at each other.

While fidgeting at the edges of your sleeve, you try to push away the thought of that wonderful moment out of your mind. You’re probably the only one that’s thinking about it, and it would be in bad taste to bring it up after all you’ve done.

Unless he were to do it.

“This is where we shared our first kiss, wasn’t it?” Naoya notes, still gazing out the horizon. “Under the guise of wanting to enjoy the fair, you took me to the Ferris wheel and kissed me.

…

…

…

I didn’t expect you to do it, you know? I genuinely believed were just hanging out, that you only wanted to show your gratitude after I helped you out with school and some missions—the fair seemed to be the right place for it.”

You swallow, followed by a few seconds of silence that made Naoya believe you weren’t to respond, as usual, until you did.

“…That was my intention.” You slowly explain. “At least until we got here.”

“What made you change your mind?” he wonders, taken aback by this sudden, new side of the story he fondly guarded in his heart.

“I… I guess I just got overwhelmed by everything. How beautiful the city looked at night, the two of us alone, up here… and the sentiments I’ve begun to have for you after all you’ve done for me.” You confess. “I don’t know how else to explain it. I guess my heart simply… needed to do it.”

“Don’t be coy, now. You just couldn’t resist me, could you?” Naoya teases, looking at you. You blush.

“No. I guess I couldn’t.” you murmur, glancing back at him. Flustered, but mostly out of shame. Pressing your trembling lips together, you once again do what your heart demands you to.

“… I’m sorry, Naoya—for… for the horrible way I’ve been acting.” You sniveled, Naoya’s eyes widened.

“Y/N…”  He leans closer, hoping to be near enough to comfort you once the tears in your eyes threaten to fall. “I tried approaching you, make things up, but… you just kept rejecting me. Why?”

“Because I…I was ashamed.” You confess, he blinks. “I treated you horribly, spoke ill behind your back, Naoya—and the—the longer it went on, the more I felt terrible about myself. I simply couldn’t approach you. How—how could I ever look at you again after all that?”

Naoya won’t deny that your admission hurt him deeply. To hear you openly question why you even married him is a strike that reopened many of his old wounds.

But being here again, in the same exact moment that made you fall in love even more with Naoya, that you couldn’t help but pour your heart out of fear of him not feeling the same way for you anymore after all the times you’ve rejected him.

Or worse, that he had already moved on to someone else, the mere thought enough to make you delirious with sadness—

You never wanted anyone else so much in your life as you do now for him.

So how did you even dare question your relationship with him?

Had he been dreadful as a partner? Given you any indications of a poor parentage towards your kids?

No. Of course not. Never.

Naoya was, and is, the love of your life. The man of your dreams and the only person you wished to spend the rest of your days with. You will never look for anyone else if it’s not him.

It’s just that sometimes… the two might say things neither truly mean. You’re both human, after all. Emotional beings so heavily intertwined with one another; it made every little interaction far more intense.

Like your love.

“I didn’t know how to—how to make amends. I shouldn’t have said what I did but… I just… I didn’t know how to make it stop.” You continue. “So, I just foolishly kept on acting like that…hoping it would just stop.”

“You know, a simple smile from you would’ve been enough for me to forget everything.”

“This is serious, Naoya.” You refute. “I acted like a child—how could you…”

“I know, I know.” He chuckles. “But I’m not angry, not anymore that is. I’m just happy that my wife is talking to me again.”

Your lip trembles, gasping at the way his words made you feel.

“I never stopped loving you.” Naoya murmurs, leaning closer to you, up to the point where his face was simply mere inches away from you. “Nor did I ever feel anything else that wasn’t complete adoration for you during these days we were apart.”

“Even when we stopped sleeping in the same bed? Or eating at the same table?” you wonder. “Not even then did your love dwindle?”

“Well, I might’ve felt a bit resentful that I didn’t have my warm adorable mochi to cuddle with.” he says, carefully placing his arm around your waist and pulling you even closer to him. “Or my wife to talk to after a long day of work… but as I said, those things fail to matter in time when all I wanted was to see you happy again.”

“I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t know you’d be a good partner and father.” You murmur. “How… how can I make it up to you?”

“I know a way you can do just that.” He teases, you blush. “But I’ll settle for something better.”

“What?”

“How about a kiss? For old times’ sake.” He suggests with a sly smirk. “Since it’s been so long, it might as well be just like the first time.”

Your eyes widen before giggling.

“What?”

“Nothing, I guess I’m glad to see you’re just as silly as ever.”

And without anything else to say, you finally close the distance between the two by softly pressing your lips onto his, just like you did all those years ago.

But instead of pouring out your newfound love, which still lives, through the form of 4 lovely children, you give him a bittersweet kiss that signified your regret, and your desire to move past this situation, to return to your husband’s arms every night and bask in his adoration.

Which he was more than glad to commit, given the way he placed his hand over your head and pulled you even closer—almost as if he were afraid of losing you the moment this kiss ended, unwilling to do so again.

Yet deep within his heart, he knew that after today, it won’t happen. Never, in fact.

“You’re sweet as ever, too.” Naoya murmurs once freeing your lips of his relentless grasp, cupping your face soon after and wiping your tears. “My spoiled princess.”

“I’m not…” you sigh, succumbing to his words. You might as well give him this small victory after all you made him go through. “Fine.”

“There she is, my bratty mochi.” He continues to tease you, pressing your cheeks together into a pout and pecking your lips once again. “My beautiful, darling mochi.”

“You’re lucky that your handsome.” You tease back, Naoya laughs.

“Really so?” he says. “I believe my true charm comes beyond my good looks.”

“It does.” You reassure him, giving him one last kiss as the ride begins to descend. “It’s always been more than that.”

Waiting by the sideline, your children anxiously glued their eyes to your pod in anticipation of results. Of the reassurance that their plans had ultimately worked and their parents returned to their usual, loving ways… if not, prepare themselves for a stage in their lives they all knew would loathe, impossible to recuperate from as they see their family crumble.

Thankfully, the sight of you smiling, a bright streak of red across your face as you allowed your husband to help you down the ride quickly struck those awful thoughts out of their mind, rushing to their parents side as they demanded one last vocal confirmation of your forgiveness, just to be sure.

Their bright, big teary eyes inspire you to kneel to their level, taking them into your arms, before doing so.

“I think we owe you an apology for involving you in our issues, and for the way I’ve been behaving. It was never your responsibility to look after us… but you still did, all of you. Thank you.” You say, looking over to Naomi whom you had no doubt was the leader of the whole thing. Her sudden interest in visiting her grandfather suddenly made sense—still, you were proud of the fact that she knew how and where to act. Oh, she’s not a baby anymore, is she? “We couldn’t have asked for better children.”

“Does it mean you still love each other?” Naoyuki asked.

“You won’t get divorced… right?” Naoko adds, Naoya scowls.

“Never. Who even mentioned anything about a divorce?” It was such an awful word to him, he would completely barren it from their vocabulary if possible. But he can’t, so instead, he’ll reassure them that it would never happen—as many times as they need. “Your mama and I love each other very much; it’ll take a whole lot for her to get rid of me.”

You chuckle.

“Really?” Naori’s eyes brighten, diving deeper into your embrace. “I’m so happy!”

“Does this mean we’ll finally enjoy the fair as a family, like we should’ve?” Naomi asks, your grin widens.

“Yeah. We will—but only if your papa goes on the rollercoaster with me! Do you know that he’s quite afraid of them? I had to bride him a few times before just to get him to ride with me!”

“That’s not true, not at all!” Naoya gasps. “You’re the one screaming all the time…”

“Of excitement! Not fear.” You jest back. “Come on now, don’t tell me you’re still scared?”

The children laugh, Naoya quickly grows red as a tomato.

While Naomi, contrary to the usual embarrassment she would’ve gotten at these very humiliating displays, doing her best to cower from the public view, smiles. Glad to see that her parents were back on their obnoxious nature—

Their overburdening, quite uncomfortable, yet ultimately endearing behavior Naomi wouldn’t want to change for anything in the world.

She’ll have plenty of other occasions to cringe at her parents, for now, she just wants to be happy.

Like she once was when nothing short of a child.

Naomi to the rescue 👉👈 as the oldest, she feels burdened to keep her family together. I don't like that, because it shows some degree of carelessness in Y/N and Naoya, but she's driven by her caring nature to do what she must to protect her loved ones—if you didn't want those traits on her then maybe you shouldn't have married a stubborn man like Naoya lol.

I don't have anything else to say except that I'm going to write that first kiss :) It's like one of the many variations of it lol. Of course, in the high school au. I already have it set up, it's just a matter of getting down to actually write it 🙈

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading this!! I do love it when I get asks with fluff + the kids 🥹❤️❤️❤️ Thank you so much.

Now, take care and hope to see you soon!

p.s. naomi feeling like a child at that one last sentence makes me all warm inside 🥺😭 it's like she's my firstborn lmao. maybe she is.

[papervenom]

✩ chapter thirteen: champagne lips ✩

summary: after the first task, hogwarts throws a chaotic, student-led inter-house party. you dress up, celebrate, and try to unwind but things take a turn when theo nott flirts with you and draco corners you in private. what starts as tension spirals into an ugly argument, revealing his jealousy and twisted sense of entitlement. by the time cedric arrives, everything's different again, and so is the way he looks at you.

chapter warnings: heavy alcohol & drug use (weed, other fun magical substances), sexual tension, jealousy, possessiveness, first kiss!!!!

word count: 6.7k

inter-house party playlist

INSATIABLE MASTERLIST⋆˙⟡

November 1st, 1994

"Merlin, there's never been an Inter-House party before! I wonder where they're going to fit so many people? Gosh, I do hope we don't get in trouble for attending. I don't know if we should even go, (Y/N), maybe we shouldn't risk it... Oh, are you changing? What will you be wearing?"

I huffed in exasperation as I rummaged through my luggage, trying to find something to wear for the night. 

Hermione had been obnoxiously word-vomiting ever since the twins informed us about the party, and I was trying my best not to get annoyed with her.

"We're going to the party, Hermione. It's a celebration for both Cedric and Harry— there's no way I'm missing it. And I'm looking for this dress that I bought back in the states..." I trailed off, finally spotting it at the bottom of my trunk and quickly stripped off my garments to put it on.

Hermione and I were in our dorm room alone. I assumed that Lavender and Parvati were already at the event— having left us behind since we got the party memo later than most of the school. 

"TWO MORE MINUTES AND WE'RE BOGGERING OFF!" George warned us from downstairs and I groaned in frustration, ripping the price tag from the extremely form-fitting, burgundy mini dress that I purchased from the mall trip that I made with Harry. 

The twins offered to wait for us while we got ready so they could take us to where the celebration was being held.

The dress that I put on was provocative, flattering my body in all the right places. 

It was also a dress that fit the newer style I was exploring— which was sexier than anything I have ever worn last year. 

I put on some boots to casualize the look and fixed the makeup that I put on this morning.

"You're not changing?" I asked Hermione, looking at her through the mirror as I blotted on some lipstick. She was still wearing jeans and the striped sweater top that she wore for the tournament.

"(Y/N), I don't even know if I'm going. You look wonderful! Don't get me wrong! But you're clearly dressed for a party, and if a Professor catches you dressed like that—"

I rolled my eyes, breaking into a grin when hearing how predictable my friend's preoccupations were, and draped my arm around her shoulder—steering her out of the room.

"Relax, M'ione. Let's have some fun," I coaxed her gently. She said nothing else but meekly nodded, taking a deep breath to calm herself down but the worry lines on her forehead never eased.

"Finally! We were about to leave y— Well, look at you," Fred broke into a smirk, his brown eyes raking down my body. 

George was doing the same, with an identical cheeky grin on his face. 

Waiting with them was Ron, who was staring at me in a less perverse manner but still seemed stunned with how I looked. 

In a way, it was worse— he was ogling me like a lovesick puppy.

"Right. Let's go, then," I mumbled, hiding any evidence of my embarrassment on my face by turning my back to them, grabbing Hermione's hand and exiting through the portrait hole quickly.

"Lumos!" whispered one of the twins once we left the Gryffindor Tower and a bright, white light blazed from the tip of their wands to help us navigate through the castle's dark corridors.

"Where's this party, anyway? The only place that could fit all of the students is the Great Hall. It says so in my copy of Hogwarts, A Hist—"

"There's a room that not even your little book knows about, Granger. Freddie and I discovered it last year whilst we were running away from Filch, didn't we Freds?" 

"We sure did, George. And good thing, that! We've been waiting for the perfect excuse to throw a party and Harry scoring first place after defeating a bloody dragon is a good enough reason for me," 

"And Cedric scoring second. This celebration is for both of them," I reminded him, shamelessly boasting Ced since I was so proud of him.

"Riight. How could I forget your boyfriend? You gonna give him a congratulatory shag later or what?"  Fred peered down at me and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"FRED!" Hermione exclaimed at his raunchy comment, resulting in the twins shushing her harshly to prevent us from getting caught in the middle of the hallway. 

I glanced over to Ron who was walking beside me and he seemed more aggravated with his brother's remark than I was.

The conversation, fortunately, steered to the twins telling us about all the goodies they rummaged up for the party. They got ahold of Butterbeer, pot, and more alcohol and elixirs for the attendees to have fun on. 

I was surprised when they told us that even the Slytherins showed up, finding it difficult to envision Malfoy and his crowd celebrating Harry or Cedric's triumphs.

We ended up on the seventh floor of the castle when the twins suddenly stopped— leaving Ron, Hermione, and I confused since there were no doors or entryways surrounding us.

"Don't you hear it?" Fred asked, snickering at our puzzled faces.

"Hear what?" snapped Ron, still irate with him. 

We stood in the corridor in silence, and it was then when I heard the low muffling of people talking and the steady beat of the music's bass thumping. 

It seemed to come from inside the walls. 

I reached out, and as soon as my fingertips grazed the wallpaper, a doorway appeared. I gasped in bewilderment— turning to look at my friends to make sure they saw what just happened. 

"Bright little witch... C'mon, let's go in," murmured George. He put both of his hands on my waist and moved me aside as he reached out for the doorknob to open it. 

My jaw dropped the moment I walked into the room, avidly taking in the scene in front of me.

There were about four hundred students in the large room that was impressively decorated with colorful banners, moving posters of both Cedric and Harry, and yellow and red party lights representing the Hogwarts champions' House colors.

I was surprised to recognize that the song that was playing so loudly was one that was currently in the Muggle's Top Charts. I watched as my peers danced to the upbeat song, grinding against each other on the dance floor— the lot of them clearly under the influence of something. 

The air had a heavy aroma of pot mixed with the smell of liquor and sweat. 

It was truly the perfect party environment.

"How did you two put this together so fast!?" I yelled over the music, turning to face the twins to show them my pure admiration.

"Funny you ask, love. We were walking down this hall, yeah? Just doing our heads in over planning a party with so little time... completely forgetting this absolutely treasure of a room and then— voilá!" Fred grinned, extending his hand out towards the expanse.

"Everything was already decorated and ready to go," George continued, staring around the space adoringly.

"Like magic," Fred quipped, winking at me.

"And where are the guests of honor?" Hermione asked, stretching her neck as she looked over the hundreds of heads in an attempt to spot Harry or Cedric.

"They'll be here any moment, I s'pose. Be right back," George retorted absentmindedly, and he and his identical brother walked off towards Lee Jordan who was hitting the biggest bong I've ever seen in my life.

I giggled and turned towards Ron and Hermione with a massive grin on my face.

"Let's go get drinks!"

༻✦༺

"No, man. I'm telling you. It's WAY different over there! The girls put out more! That's common knowledge," Lee Jordan informed the group animatedly about how easy American girls were.

I wasn't paying attention to the conversation, as I took a long drag from the joint that had been passed to me.

The party was still at its peak, even though Cedric nor Harry had arrived yet. 

Apparently, they were kept late by Crouch, who gave them all the necessary information for the second task. 

Last we heard, they were both just now taking a shower and getting ready to join us.

So while we waited— Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, Lee, Neville, Seamus, and I were all sitting in a circle and chatting. 

We were all drinking, smoking, or doing both with the exception of Hermione who merely had the tiniest sip of Butterbeer before claiming that it was enough for the night.

My eyes scanned the room and I laughed softly as I watched Dean spin Ginny around on the dance floor, making her giggle erratically. 

Lavender, Padma and Parvati were a few feet away from them, sandwiching Cormac McLaggen who looked pleased with himself for having three girls dance so closely to him. 

What caught my attention, though, was the far right corner of the room where the Slytherins were.

In what seemed to be some sort of lounging area— sat Draco with the rest of his group. 

He was manspreaded on the sofa with Pansy Parkinson perched on his lap while his friends snorted what seemed to be powdered Alihotsy from the table.

Draco looked too dressed up compared to the rest of the students. He was wearing an elegant black dress-suit that looked immaculately tailored for him. 

His pale, blue eyes would meet mine every now and then— having the perfect view of each other from where we were sitting. I would stare at him blankly whilst he'd give me his infamous smirk.

"Earth to (Y/N)?" George waved his enormous hand in front of my face.

"Hm?" I replied, shifting my gaze away from Draco to pay attention to George.

"We're talking 'bout America. Seamus asked you a question. C'mon lass, how much did'ya smoke?" 

"What was your question, Seamus?" I asked, reaching towards Ron to grab his bottle of Butterbeer from him, taking a sip from it.

"Oh, I was just wondering about your school experience in America? Before studying here, I mean," Seamus asked, his eyes widened in excitement as he waited for my answer.

I swallowed the sweet, foamy liquid down— handing the bottle back to a very flushed Ron, and mulled my response before speaking.

"Um, well I went to a Muggle-school for a few months as a kid before having to drop-out since I couldn't contain my magic... Then I was homeschooled— got my High-School diploma and studied some Wizardry classes... History of Magic, and how to control my powers, mainly. Then I was debating going to Muggle college but Dumbledore asked me to attend Hogwarts so... here I am,"

"Aren't we lucky," murmured Fred from beside me, draping his arm lazily over my shoulder.

"How's Muggle school like? What did you learn?" Hermione asked in fascination. 

I scrunched my nose in distaste before answering.

"It's alright... We learn the basics— Maths, History, Language Arts, Science. I didn't get to do Physical Education since I was homeschooled but I did get Sex Ed. It's all pretty boring," 

"Wait—" 

"Sex Ed!?"

"What on Merlin's bloody earth is that?" 

The twins and Lee Jordan's interest piqued and I rolled my eyes at their dirty-minded absurdity.

"It's not what you think it is. We just get taught how to practice safe sex and about... diseases and shit," I shrugged, looking around the circle and became heavily aware that we were out of drinks.

"So they don't teach you how to fuck?" Lee Jordan asked dumbly which made me giggle and shake my head at the absurdity.

"No, not at all," 

"Gods. American Muggles are so strange," complained Seamus.

"Is it true you haven't heard about He-who-must-not be-named before arriving here?" Neville asked tentatively, wiping Butterbeer foam from the corner of his mouth.

"No, I've heard about him before. Always knew him as Voldemort, though. Not that silly nickname you all have for him, sorry," I apologized to the group as they flinched at my use of the Dark Lord's name before continuing, "But yeah... He was never a big threat to the states so I guess that's why we've never refrained from using his name as the British do... We're out of drinks, I'll be back,"

I excused myself, letting Fred's arm drop limply from my shoulder as I stood up from my seat, swaying slightly as I felt the alcohol and weed get the best of me right then.

"Woah," I muttered, balancing myself before heading to the table where all the liquor and Elixirs were piled on. 

I hummed as I inspected the different colored bottles, reading their labels hastily until I spotted one that looked desiderating. 

It was an unopened, expensive-looking bottle of Firewhiskey and as soon as I laid eyes on it, I grabbed it and began unscrewing the cork.

"Need any help with that, angel?" an unknown voice murmured from behind me. 

I jumped as I felt them place their hand on the small of my back and I turned around to find one of Draco's friends towering over me. 

It was the attractive, blue-eyed Slytherin boy who was indiscreetly looking at me during our Care of Magical Creatures lesson. 

He had the same, Old-Hollywood charm that Cedric had, only that the Slytherin had somewhat of a bad-boy thing going on for him. There was a natural glimmer of mischief in his eyes which was enough of a reason to convince me to stay away from him.

"I'm fine, thanks," I replied in monotone as I started to step around him with the bottle of liquor tucked under my arm. 

To my frustration, he stepped right in front of me— blocking me from going anywhere. He seemed amused at my blatant annoyance with him.

"Can you move?" I snapped at him, deciding right then that all Slytherins were dickheads.

"I don't think I can. You've got my bottle of Firewhiskey. The least you can do is share some of it, don't you think, love?" the boy smirked, his blue eyes flickering from the liquor bottle to my face.

"Oh! Shit, sorry," I apologized and immediately held the bottle out for him to take. He shook his head, though— grabbing two plastic cups from the table and gestured for me to pour the liquor in.

"Cheers," the boys said after I poured us both a drink and set the bottle back on the table where it belonged. He gave me a handsome, crooked smile as we raised our cups towards each other and downed the alcohol.

I immediately noticed the rich quality of the Firewhiskey as the pure liquid burned down my throat deliciously. I have never tasted high-calibre liquor before and it showed.

"Fuck, that's good," I marveled, wincing at how strong the drink was. The Slytherin chuckled, ostensibly entertained by my reactions, and stuck out his hand to introduce himself to me. 

"I'm Theo Nott, we share some classes together," he said after swallowing down the potent liquid without even a flinch. 

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N), nice to meet you," I took the hand he was offering and shook it.

"I finally get to meet you one-on-one. You're quite the talk of this school, you know?" Theo smirked.

"So I've 'eard," I groaned, slurring slightly. I scowled down at my cup as I pondered the ridiculous gossip that surrounded me and took another swig to drown my irritation.

"What's the pout for? You're the sexiest girl in Hogwarts. Boys would leave their girlfriends in a heartbeat to be with you... It's not the worst reputation to have, you know," Theo said matter-of-factly.

I don't know if it was the fact that he called me sexy or just the drunken buzz that was catching up to me but I felt my face and neck heat up when he said that. I decided to derive the conversation and defend my point.

"Well, I feel object... objectified. People don' even know me and they'refucking treating me like 'm a piece of meat. 'S gross," 

I struggled to get my words out but I knew that Theo understood. 

He tried suppressing his amusement behind a tight-lipped smile but failed miserably.

"That's not all, though... I've heard you're fucking brilliant. That you can do wandless magic. Although, I'm not all that surprised because you were supposed to end up in Slytherin, weren't you? Isn't that what the hat said at your Sorting?" 

"Mhm. Slytherin o-or Hufflepuff but I got Gryffindor. Thank fuck," I scoffed into my cup.

"Yeah? Why's that?" Theo asked as he cocked his head to the side. I was distracted for a brief moment by his baby blue eyes that were staring so intently down at my face. He seemed to notice because a cheeky grin started spreading on his lips and I had to clear my throat to snap out of my libidinal daze.

"Not the biggest fan of your House, sorry," I responded, scrunching my nose in distaste and glanced over to where Draco Malfoy was sitting. 

To my surprise, he was staring right back at Theo and me, and I let out a small gasp when I saw how incomprehensibly furious he looked.

"Do you see why? Blonde fucking bitch," I seethed and Theo broke into fits of laughter.

I felt strange gratification in knowing that he found me funny. I grinned broadly as I watched him shake his head, still chuckling whilst finishing the last of his drink.

"Yeah, I've heard about the... aversion you have for Malfoy. But we're not all like him, y'know?"

"Yeah, I suppose you're not..." I trailed off, smiling at Theo slyly and for the first time during our conversation— his suave demeanor was gone.

His lips parted slightly and I audibly heard his breath hitch as his eyes appeared transfixed as he stared down at me.

"Can't imagine how different things would've been if you were in Slytherin, though..." Theo murmured lowly, swiping his tongue on his bottom lip.

"So you won't socialize with me because I'm a Gryffindor?" I challenged him, raising an eyebrow.

The blue-eyed brunette then leaned down almost a whole foot so his lips were close to my ear.

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" he spoke gently.

He pulled away, seizing me up with sultry eyes.

I stared back at him, stunned, for a few passing moments— not knowing what to say. 

There was no denying that he was flirting with me. 

And it was possible that— with the alcoholic influence, I might've given the impression that I wanted to be pursuited. 

Though that wasn't the case.

And I needed to clear that up.

"Theo, I think yo—"

"(Y/N), can I talk to you?" Draco interrupted, striding towards us so hastily that it caused me to back up against the liquor table, making  the bottles rattle loudly against each other.

"N-no, I'm talking to Theo," 

If looks could kill.

My answer was clearly one that Draco didn't want to hear. He stared at me lividly, his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched so tightly that it had to be painful.

Draco then fixed his furious glare to Theo who, to my surprise, didn't seem bothered at all. 

Theodore Nott bore his callous, ocean-blue eyes back at the blonde in silent resilience.

I half expected for him to cower under Malfoy's ice-cold stare like the rest of his friends, but Theo did the exact opposite.

"Come on," Draco growled through gritted teeth and wrapped his ring-clad hand around my arm and yanked it, dragging me towards the far side of the room which was vacant from anybody's prying eyes and ears.

"Fucking let go of me!" I complained, struggling to release myself from his iron grip but he ignored me. 

I tried writhing away and hit his back repeatedly to no success until Draco finally released me only to back me into a wall.

"What is fucking wrong with you!?" he yelled, making my jaw drop at his absurdity.

"What's wrong with ME!? YOU are the one who just hauled my ass like a rag-doll and YOU'RE ASKING ME WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME!?" 

I was shaking with fury.

All effects of the alcohol and pot left my system as I felt myself sobering up solely with how livid I was.

"You flirting with my friends now?" Draco replied harshly, squinting his eyes at me accusingly, however not screaming anymore.

"Flirting? Are you insane?" 

"I can tell when Theo is grafting when I see it and he wouldn't graft if he didn't think he had the slightest chance. Don't play fucking stupid," Draco's words spilled past his lips vigorously.

"Fucks sake, Malfoy. Just 'cause I met a decent Slytherin with more class and manners than you could ever have hardly means I'm flirting with him. You're being irrational," I pushed past him and started walking away— feeling his eyes boring onto my back as I did. 

"You're right, (Y/L/N). Maybe I'm wrong. 'Cause you clearly have a penchant for Seekers, and Theodore's just a lousy Chaser, right? Silly me..."

I froze in my step and turned around to find a shit-eating smirk on his face as Draco indolently leaned against the wall with crossed arms. 

This was the first time I've been so close to him ever since the Courtyard last year and I hated to admit it, but he looked good. 

Just like Ron and Harry, Draco had gotten taller this year. He had also let his hair grow longer but it wasn't untidy and disheveled like Ron or Harry's, but perfectly styled. 

There was also something very commanding about his presence. His jet-black dress suit definitely influenced this but there was something else to it. He wasn't a boyish Slytherin anymore. Or at least he didn't look it.

Draco Malfoy might've been an annoying son of bitch but something that he wasn't was unattractive. 

But my god, was he fucking annoying.

 "What do you mean a penchant for Seekers?" I asked him, narrowing my eyes.

"It's quite obvious isn't it, dollface? Potter, me, now Diggory..." 

A burst of laughter escaped my lips. I was giggling uncontrollably as his expression became less cocky by the second and was quickly replaced by insecure irritation. 

"You are DELUSIONAL, Malfoy," I spoke through my cackling.

He was glowering at me silently, and my bewilderment set in like I was just drenched in ice-cold water. 

Why did he even care?

I didn't understand what the fuck this boy even wanted from me. 

We stared at each other blankly for several seconds before I decided to question him.

"What's up with you? Why are you even bothering me? Now you want to talk to me again? Be my friend? Because I tried. I tried last year and at the World Cup but you decided to be an absolute dipshit like you always end up being. The way that you disrespected the Weasleys? You really think I want anything to do with you after that!? Give me a fucking break!" 

My temper returned and I didn't have any control over my words, as they came streaming out in hopes to hit a nerve so amply that Draco Malfoy would leave me alone for good. 

All he did was confuse me.

He was a head-fuck.

"Don't twist my words, (Y/L/N). I do not want to be your friend," he spoke tranquilly. Eerily calm after I just spewed at him.

"Then what do you want from me?" I groaned in exasperation, my eyebrows knitting together with the perplexed knots he was tangling in my brain.

"I don't want to be your friend. I don't want to greet you in the hallways. I don't want to smile at you from across the fucking room. I don't want any of that shit. You know this," he repeated darkly, his voice just above a whisper.

Then we were on the same page. 

He wanted nothing to do with me either.

No, that didn't make sense. 

He didn't sound like he was fucking me off. In fact, he was talking to me like he was confessing a terrible secret.

The last time he spoke to me with such raw genuineness was when he was proclaiming that he had feelings for me.

I then recalled how angry he looked when seeing Cedric and me at Hogsmeade and then again at the World Cup and I instantly understood.

He didn't want to be my friend. He wanted more. 

"I haven't talked to you since the Courtyard, Malfoy. I enjoyed talking to you that night but it was just that one time and then you never spoke to me again. I don't know you. You do nothing but torment the people I care about, which is why I found it difficult to even consider that you felt any way about me. I still don't think you even fancy me! It's just my Veela—" 

Draco took one swift step to get closer to me. I was so ridiculously short under his tall frame, he cupped my face in both of his pale hands to make sure I was looking him in the eyes. 

His touch was forceful— enough to prevent me from squirming away but not enough to hurt me. 

For the first time, I felt intimidated. 

He backed me onto the wall he was leaning against— my hands wrapped around his wrists to keep my equilibrium as he steered me.

"That's not true and you know it, dollface..." he murmured softly, his minty breathe tickling my skin, "I'm not affected by Veelas. I couldn't keep my eyes off of you in that Top Box. I know you noticed. You were looking at me too," 

It was hopeless trying to hide my embarrassment. He probably felt the blood pooling into my heated cheeks as his thumb stroked it softly.

The best I could do was flicker my eyes to the dim-lit ceiling behind him and try to control my ragged breath.

He picked up on all of this, though. When I looked back at him— he was smiling smugly. 

"You say you don't know me, princess? Then get to know me..." he hummed as he took another dangerously close step towards me.

His fingertips left a trail of goosebumps on my skin as they skimmed down my arms, hips, and finally reached my waist.

"Stop," I breathed out, trying to maintain my composure.

"What? You dating Diggory now?" he smirked, pulling away far enough to look at me but his hands didn't budge.

I thought about lying. 

Cedric and I haven't as much as kissed yet but there was an unspoken adherence between the both of us.

Or at least I'd like to think there was.

But then again, if word got out that I said that Cedric and I were dating, Cedric might feel like I trapped him into a relationship and the thought of that was mortifying to me. 

"No..." I replied back hesitantly, my eyes raising to meet Draco's blue ones who looked darker than they usually did. 

"Then we're doing nothing wrong," he mumbled, raising a hand to move my hair away from my neck before he leaned down to brush his lips against my collarbone. The feeling made me sigh, as I fluttered my eyes close.

I didn't know what I was doing. 

It had to be the alcohol that was still coursing through my  veins.

I couldn't think in my drunken haze. 

I couldn't think about anything other than Draco's hands on me.

They were roaming around my body, touching me tentatively— as if I were easily breakable.

I watched in admiration as his long, ring-covered digits flexed. 

He had the most attractive hands I've ever seen.

His thumb grazed my bottom lip, pulling it down slightly and looked at them as if my lips were the most entrancing thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

I knew that at any moment, he might kiss me and I didn't know if I had the willpower to stop him.

My breath hitched when he leaned forward. I expected right then for his lips to meet mine, but instead, he pressed them against my ear.

"Tell me I'm better than him. Tell me I'm better than that Half-Blood Hufflefuck and I'll give you what you want," 

And that was enough to snap me out of the moment.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I scoffed in disbelief. I shoved him away from me, the ire resurfacing on my chest

"I feel sorry for you, Malfoy. I've never imagined that I would meet someone my age that could be such an ethnonationalist prick— yet here you are! Excusing your shitty behavior by saying mommy and daddy didn't teach you better," I spoke the last sentence in a mock-baby voice, taunting him for what he told me last year at the Courtyard. I knew I sounded cruel but I didn't care.

"Shut up," he spat, but I kept going.

"Strolling around campus like you're hot fucking shit, calling everyone Mudbloods, Half-Bloods and Blood-Traitors? Who do you think you are!?" I laugh ruthlessly, making him visibly angrier the more I spoke.

"Shut the fuck up, (Y/L/N), I'm warning you," he repeated again.

"Or what? You're gonna insult my friends again? Gonna throw another Knockback Jinx at me? Or how about you call your darling mom and dad to put on their Death Eater masks and make every student with an 'impure' bloodline float up in the air and spin like a goddamn rotisserie chicken, just like they did at the World-Cup! You're all talk, Malfoy. You waste your time being a little angsty shit, pathetically jealous as shit over Harry who—" 

"Don't. Mention. Bloody. Potter," he spoke through his teeth, menacingly taking a step closer to me. He looked more livid than ever at the mention of Harry's name. 

It surprised me that after dragging his parents through the mud, it's Harry Potter who managed to hit a nerve.

"Aww, what's wrong? You intimidated by him?" I pouted in fake sympathy, "You scared your daddy will think his only son is nothing but a complete disappointment compared to—" 

He grabbed my shoulder and pressed me flush against the wall. 

I knew I crossed a line. 

I was doing it on purpose, but I wasn't scared of him. 

I just wished that we weren't so secluded because I wanted some backup incase I needed to knock him on his ass if he tried anything.

"Listen to me, (Y/L/N). You have no idea what you're talking about. Harry is nothing but a disgusting Half-Blood, equally as pathetic as that pretty boy you're seeing. Now understand this... you will never, ever speak about my father again—"

"Don't talk about my friends, then. Don't talk about Cedric," I hissed back, narrowing my eyes at him.

It didn't surprise me that he was smirking again. 

His mood swings were giving me a whiplash.

"The Golden Boy. Cedric Diggory is just too good to be true, isn't he? A total Prince Charming..." he drawled out his words, taking his turn in mocking me now. He closed the gap between the both of us again and looked down at me in a predatory way, "Too bad he's not your type." 

I considered going off on him again but simply stared at him blankly for a few passing moments before taking him aback by wrapping my arm around his torso, pulling him closer to me and tilting my mouth so it was beside his ear.

"That's where your wrong, Malfoy..." I whispered, playing the same, wicked game he did.

He tensed under me as my lips brushed against his earlobe and it was compelling to know that I could put him in the same acquiescent position he put me in earlier with ease.

"I think... you're not used to someone being better than you..." I giggled softly, running my fingers through his hair, tousling his blonde locks.

"I'm right, aren't I? Jealous of Cedric and Harry because they're worthy of being the school's champions and you weren't even a thought—?"

"What did I fucking tell you about mentioning—" 

Draco's hand clasped itself over my mouth to stop me from talking. 

He was about to retaliate something snarky but was cut short when the room exploded in cheering and chanting of the Champions' names.

I caught glimpses of both Cedric and Harry in the middle of the crowded circle, being handed glasses of champagne as everyone praised them. 

Draco looked startled. 

Almost as if he were just now remembering that we were at a party. 

I took advantage of his distraction to rip his hand away from my face.

"Oh look. My Prince Charming," I taunted and shoved Draco away harshly.

"I wanted to get to know you, Malfoy. I tried to be cordial with you... but one conversation doesn't change shit. Half-blood or not, Cedric is adored by many and is the man that you could never be. Leave me alone from now on. I want nothing to do with you," 

"Yeah, you didn't seem to think all of that a few minutes ago, did you darling?" he replied back cockily and I felt a pang of guilt.

Draco and I didn't even do anything but I didn't prevent anything from happening, either. 

All I knew is that it wouldn't be happening again.

I flipped him my middle finger and walked away to join the crowd surrounding the Champions.

Cedric was standing right next to Harry, both of them amongst their group of friends, laughing and talking eagerly about the tournament. 

Cedric looked so good. 

He already seemed slightly buzzed— his dark, curly locks falling over his grey irises that were half closed and twinkling brightly.

My eyes trailed up his chest, taking in his toned shoulders and strong arms under the grey, form-fitting sweatshirt that he wore. 

He wore a lazy smile on his face, and every-time that he let out a throaty laugh because his friends had said something funny— the dozens of girls that surrounding him let out an airy sigh.

I found this amusing because I felt the same way. 

Every time I was around Cedric, I reveled in how gorgeous he was. Saying he was extremely attractive was an understatement.

But a privilege that I had that the fawning girls didn't was that Cedric only had eyes for me.

He raised his pearly greys and the moment they locked with mine, alleviation washed over his face which made me feel exceptionally lucky because I was the girl he was smiling to. 

"There you are," Cedric approached me and pulled me into a hug, "Where were you? Hermione said you've been gone for a while," 

I didn't know what to say as the feeling of guilt rose in my chest again. Now that I was in Cedric's arms, I didn't know why I even allowed Draco to lay a finger on me. 

This was enough. 

This was all I needed. 

I couldn't imagine ever wanting anything more.

"Hey, you okay?" Cedric cupped my cheeks in his hands, frowning when he noticed the tears prickling in my eyes. 

"Better now," I replied honestly, laughing as I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck, kissing the warm, soft skin. 

"OI! Lovebirds!" Zacharias Smith called for our attention, a humongous camera at hand. 

The flash went off, Cedric and I both grinned at the lens and then Cedric looked down at me dotingly moments after, causing a whirlwind of butterflies in my tummy as I prayed that the moving photo caught it so I'd have photographic evidence of the way he looked at me. 

Zacharias handed Cedric and me our champagne glasses which we clinked together before downing all of the drink, our eyes never leaving each other for a moment.

"This dress should be a crime..." he murmured, his hands caressing up and down the fabric around my hips.

I grinned coyly, stepping closer to him and pressing a kiss right beside his lips softly. 

I've missed him so terribly. 

We've only been away from each other for about a few hours, and it was important to believe that it was only this morning that he was scared shitless to confront his dragon.

I still felt horrible for abandoning him the week before the task and I swore to myself that I would never leave him on his own regarding the Tournament's tasks again. 

Harry had Hermione's brains to help him. 

Cedric needed me.

Cedric grabbed an unopened bottle of champagne and guided me to the sofa where the rest of our friends were seated.

I smiled at him silently as he unscrewed the cork, popping it loudly which caused everyone in our proximity to cheer. 

Cedric grinned handsomely and refilled our glasses.

"You're really quiet tonight, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" Cedric whispered in my ear and looped his arm around me securely.

"I'm thinking about how much I've missed you," I began, shifting closer to him so I was almost sitting on his lap,"and how proud I am of you... I really hated being away from you the last few days, so I hope you're not sick of me just yet because you're not getting rid of me anytime soon,"

I kept my tone was light but I wasn't really joking. 

I had no intentions in straying from Cedric and after Draco put me in the spot earlier, I had to know if Cedric had the same idea for us.

To my relief, Cedric smiled warmly. 

He took my glass of champagne from my hands, placing it on the coffee table in front of us alongside his.

"(Y/N), I don't think I could never get sick of you...," Cedric sighed, his forehead pressing onto mine and my face in his large palms. 

The energy between us was static electric. 

I was breathless, staring into his cloudy, grey eyes and my heart pounded so loudly that the background noise of music and chattering was nonexistent.

Nothing else existed at that moment other than Cedric Diggory.

I could feel his breath against my lips and I knew it was inevitable now.

I couldn't control myself any longer and I knew he couldn't either by the way he was clinging onto my hips.

And then it happened.

I don't know who initiated it but Cedric's lips were finally on mine.

Gliding over each other smoothly, as if we've done this a dozen times before. 

Cedric and I were kissing each other greedily, not being able to stop once we started.

We barely gave each other a chance to breathe, only sparing a few fleeting seconds when my bottom lip was captured between his soft, warm ones again.

I felt more intoxicated than I have been the whole night, but now I was purely drunk on the taste of champagne and Cedric's sandalwood and vanilla smell.

I was almost glad that we waited this long to share a kiss because there was no possible way that it would've been as ardent and intense as it was now in any other occasion.

He pulled my legs up on his lap, his hands returning to my face and cradling it amorously to prevent me from breaking the kiss— something I wouldn't dream of doing.

He kissed me like it was his oxygen. 

As if he wouldn't survive if my lips ever left his.

"GO ON CEDRIC!" 

"GOOD LAD!" 

We finally broke apart and saw that the better most of the party's attention were on us.

Cedric's friend were praising him with enthusiasm.

Many, many girls were staring at me as if they wanted me dead.

Harry and Hermione were grinning at me cheekily.

Ron— envious.

The twins were muttering "Lucky bastard," 

And from the far back of the room I spotted a pair of covetous, pale blue eyes boring into me.

His pale hands tight-gripping the arms of the leather sofa he sat on.

I smirked at Draco Malfoy, kissing up Cedric's neck without breaking eye-contact, and showed him that if he thought he had me wrapped around his finger...

He was fucking wrong.

✩ next chapter: S.P.E.W ✩

[thelov3lybookworm]

You Think I Wanted This? (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Are all royals this arrogant?

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: Hehe 🤭

anyways, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n tightened her hold on the muscular arm she held, shooting a warning glare at her husband, letting him know his temper would not help him.

He had the audacity to roll his eyes as he looked away, before nodding at something the lord in front of them said.

After the priest had declared Y/n and Xaden married, everyone had started approaching them to congratulate them, to get to know the legendary man Y/n had married.

And now, for the past few hours, Y/n had been stuck holding onto her husband's arm and laughing at every dumb joke the pompous lords and ladies threw their way, nodding along and pretending like she was not, quite literally, questioning their intelligence.

Her hand was cramping with the way she had not moved her arm once, her legs ready to drop her any moment, her back plotting her murder. She could also feel a headache coming, and knowing that her husband was likely going to spew some stupid arguments when they were in the confines of her bedroom walls, she was sure tonight she was going to die.

"I'll take my leave then, leave you to go get some rest." The lord the new couple were talking to laughed, winking and clasping Xaden's shoulder. His whole body shook with the laughter at his own insinuation, the poor buttons on his shirt looking ready to give up any moment as Y/n felt Xaden's arm tense under her grip.

She clenched her hand again for what felt like the hundredth time that night, pulling her hand back slightly to let him know that no, he couldn't punch everyone's teeth out.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw his jaw clenching, and sighed.

"Thank you so much for attending, my lord. Have a pleasant ride home and good night." Y/n mumbled, offering one of her most pleasant smiles as she tugged her husband away, who followed grudgingly.

"I should have killed him right there."

Y/n reigned in her sigh, signalling to her guards that she was about to retire for the night. The four men peeled themself off from the dais wall behind Y/n- where they'd been stationed at while Y/n had been engaging in conversation- and took their positions around her, two in front, two at her back.

Xaden glanced at the, and Y/n could feel his hackles rising.

A sharp glance at him had him sighing, glaring back at her.

The moment they were out of the great hall, Y/n let go of his arm, flexing her sweaty palm, disgusted.

One of her guards from behind her, Hart, wordlessly handed her a napkin, and she nodded back at him as she took it, wiping her hand.

She could feel Xaden staring at her, so she turned her head to meet his eyes.

"I don't like being sweaty."

His eyebrows rose, but she turned away, handing the napkin back to Hart, watching as his awaiting hand retreated.

Rolling her neck, Y/n continued walking towards her room without looking, the route through the winding passages and hallways now as familiar to her as the back of her palm.

"Every time, I'm reminded why I hate dinners."

All of the four guards chuckled, the two she could still see in front of her, Alex and Paul, shaking their head.

Reaching up, Y/n fixed her tiara, brushing off the stray strands of hair in her face as the group turned a corner and the door to Y/n's chambers came into view.

She was ready for this day to be over.

Alex reached out as they got closer, pushing open the door and walking into the sitting chamber that led into the different rooms. As soon as Paul and Alex stepped foot inside, they peeled away, waiting as they held open the doors for Y/n and Xaden, who walked straight towards the door on the opposite wall that led to Y/n's bedchambers.

Xaden seemed intrigued by the way he kept glancing at Y/n, her guards and around the chambers. Y/n though, she paid him no mind, as she came to a halt in front of the doors, patiently waiting as Hart reached forward to open the doors. Y/n smiled a little at all her guards, even Paul and Alex, who watched from the open doorway before walking back out into the hallway.

"Princess?"

Y/n paused when Hart called out, about to shut the door behind her.

"Yes?"

He shared a look with Floyd, who smirked. "Do you want us to leave our post for the night? You know," He shot a meaningful look towards a stoic Xaden, grinning. "give you some privacy?"

Usually, Y/n a very friendly relation with her guards and maids, but this was not something she found funny as she stared Hart and Floyd down until the two of them started shuffling awkwardly.

Then she turned away, throwing a Good night over her shoulder.

She walked over to her vanity, doing her best to ignore her bed, because she knew the moment she looked at the plush pillows and blankets, she would ditch the idea of getting undressed.

Through the mirror, Y/n could see Xaden taking in the room, his eyebrows high.

She knew stupid words were going to come out of that soft mouth, so she spoke before he could.

"You can take the floor. Or you can sleep on the bd, next to me. But no touching."

He blinked, a scowl taking over his face as he turned to her. "You think you can order me around? Just because you are a princess does not mean you're above everyone-"

"I am, actually."

He stilled. "What?"

Having finished removing the accessories the maids put into her hair, Y/n turned to meet his eyes. "My father rules over this kingdom. What makes you think I'm not above everyone?"

Usually, Y/n hated thinking about it, let alone speaking of her high rank, but this man was truly getting on her nerves with his handsome face and an equally ugly personality.

His eyes hardened. "Are all the royals this arrogant or are you a rare breed?"

Y/n was known to be one of the calmest people in the whole of the palace and the healers quadrant, but she would have to forfeit that title if he kept his mouth open.

She took a couple of steps forward, walking till she was right in front of him.

"You listen here Riorson. This, is my chambers. You either listen to me, or you listen to my father. The choice is yours."

He glared back at her, opening his mouth to speak. But she didn't let him as she turned away, walking over to the door that led to her walk-in wardrobe.

"Get comfortable, Riorson. You might get anything you want outside of these palace walls, but tonight, you stay here."

"And what if I don't?"

Y/n turned to glance at him, giving him a once over.

"You will lose your head if my father's loses his temper. Its that simple."

Y/n could hear him curse her, and she smiled as she turned away, dismissing him.

She was too tired to care at the moment.

•○🌑○•

Fourth Wing Taglist: @byyalady

Xaden Taglist: @sidrapotter @anniiittttaa @pirana10 @harrystylesfan2686 @artists-ally @riddlesb1tch @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @bubybubsters

YTIWT Taglist: @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @sherayuki

[anonsturniolo]

Handcuffed to love ✧₊⁺

policeofficer/probationofficer!matt x criminal!reader

Part 1 of ???

warnings: mentions of drugs. mature themes follow, read at your own risk.

Waking up in a jail cell wasn’t on my bingo card, for my entire life to be quite honest. An innocent college party turned into a police raid, leaving me to get caught with a microscopic bag of coke in my purse. To make matters even worse, I was arrested by the hottest cop I had ever seen. 

He had bright blue eyes, perfectly tanned skin, and a delicious amount of tattoo’s scattered across his left arm. My hazy mind at the time wanted to trace each and every one with my tongue, but I knew better. He had looked at me with a different type of disgust, and I knew he would never want anything to do with me. A girl could dream though. 

“Y/N Y/L/N?” A deep voice broke me out of my thoughts. I look up to find the cop from last night staring straight at me. I stand up on shaky legs, stepping up to the metal bars. 

“What's up?” I ask, not sure if I was being released or if he was just making sure I was still here. I glanced at the name tag sprawled across his shoulder, reading M. Sturniolo. 

“Hands.” He sighed, holding a pair of handcuffs. I slide my hands into the now open slot that was waist level, letting him slide the cuffs over my wrists, wincing as he tightens them.

“Sorry.” He murmured to me as he took a step back, looking towards someone down the hall before a buzz sounds and the door is unlocked. He opens the door, gesturing to me to come out of the cell. I take a few timid steps, not wanting to push my luck. I had no idea what was happening or where I was going. 

His warm hand wraps around my bicep, urging me forward. We walk in silence and I take the time to glance around as we walk. I find several women sitting and crying as they enter jail cells and make phone calls. My heart breaks for them, wondering what led them to be here. 

He opens a door, leading me into what I assume is an investigation room. There were two metal chairs on opposite sides of a dirty metal table, a large two way mirror taking up a good portion of the wall behind the chair he was guiding me to. 

“Here's the deal Miss Y/N,” He starts, sitting down across from me, “You can tell me the name of who you got the drugs from, pay a small fine, do some time on probation, and get the hell out of here.” He cuts right to the chase, leaning his arms against the table and shifting forward. 

“So you need just the name?” I clarify, making him nod. “So you don’t need an arrest before this deal takes place?” I question, watching the way his eyes slightly widen in surprise. 

“What makes you ask that?” He questions, glancing at the mirror behind me. 

I shrug, smiling at him sheepishly, “I may have been watching Breaking Bad all week.” I tell him, almost grinning to myself as I see the corners of his mouth turn upwards, fighting the urge to smile. 

“No, we don’t need to make any arrests for your deal to take place. This is your first offense, and you passed the drug test.” He informed me, making me nod. “So, the name?” He asks after a couple beats of silence. 

“I’ll tell you his name on one condition.” I state bravely, despite the fact I wanted to start bawling. 

He shakes his head, “You think you can make demands now darlin’?” He rasps, making my stomach twist with anxiety. 

I nod anyway, “I have something you want, and I want my deal to be a tad bit sweeter.” I responded calmly. I needed to keep my cool so I could also keep the upper hand. 

“What is it?” He questions curiously, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest. 

It’s my turn to lean forward on the table, looking him directly in the eyes, “I want all of this to come off my record once my probation is over.” I speak slowly and carefully, leaving no room for any misunderstanding. He nods softly, before he rises to his feet, holding up one finger before he exits the room. 

I sit in silence, letting my eyes travel across the barren room. I spot a spiderweb in the left corner of the ceiling, my skin crawling with disgust. I need to get out of here. My leg began to shake with anticipation, when I was about to start losing my mind, the door opened. 

Officer Sturniolo walks back into the room, taking the seat across from me again. He stays silent, just observing me, waiting for me to break. Two can play this game. My eye’s travel across his face, memorizing the shape of his eyebrows and the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he blinks. 

“We have our own conditions, in order to include yours.” He speaks after a few minutes of silence, I nod for him to continue, “You have one infraction during your probation, it stays on your record. You lie to us, it stays on your record.” He informs me sternly, making my mouth run dry. 

“Okay, we have a deal then.” I reply softly, lowering my eyes to the table before looking back at him confusedly, “Where do I sign?” I ask, glancing across the table but not finding any papers. 

He smirks slightly, “They’re printing up the changes, it’ll just be a few minutes.” He replies cockily, sending warmth between my legs. Of course I’d be attracted to the one man I’ll never have. We sit in a surprisingly comfortable silence, his eyes never leaving me once. The door opened to reveal a taller guy holding a stack of papers, handing them directly to officer Sturniolo before he exited the room. 

He slides them across the table with a pen, gesturing for me to sign. I quickly scanned the pages, making sure the deal was what I wanted exactly, before carefully signing. 

“How much is the fine?” I ask him, sliding the papers back to him. 

He picks them up, “With the amount of drugs you had, you got lucky and only have to pay $500.” He explains quickly, leaning across the table to unlock my handcuffs. “Probation for about 6 months given our little deal holds up, will roughly be a thousand bucks. You have until your probation is up to pay all of the fines, or your probation will be extended and face possible jail time. And our deal would be invalid.” 

I nod in understanding, watching as he slides me a blank piece of paper, “Write down the name, I’ll ask a few questions and then I’ll send you on your way.” He explains, watching me closely as I pick up the pen. I write the name down quickly, letting out a huff of air once I have finished. 

He reads it, letting a scoff past his lips, “Damien Cross?” He asks with an eyebrow raised. 

“Yeah, he hangs around campus a lot and is kinda known to have whatever party favor you could be looking for.” I shrug, I might be telling the truth but the way he’s looking at me makes me feel like a dirty liar. 

“How’d you meet him?” I frown as I realize I never even had a proper meeting with him, just kinda walked up to him and asked for the drugs. 

We were interrupted by another officer bursting into the room, “Matt, we need the room.” The cop huffed, seeming to be out of breath. 

Matt nods, coming to a stand, “We can finish this at my desk.” I nod before following him out of the room. Several officers are barreling down the hallway, a woman screaming somewhere within the group of men. My stomach sinks as I finally see her, all battered and bruised as they shove her into the room I was just in. 

“Holy shit.” I mutter to myself, putting a pep in my step and nearly walking into Matt’s back as he came to an abrupt stop. He turned his head, looking behind me before he resumed walking. I stick close to him, in fear of being swept up into something horrible. 

Matt leads me to a desk tucked into the corner of the room, pulling up a chair from the desk next to his, having me take a seat. 

For the next hour we spent talking about Damien, him taking a few notes here and there. I nearly squeal as a woman approaches us with a bag containing my belongings, instantly snatching it out of her hands. Matt gives me a funny look as I instantly stand, glancing around the room. 

“Where can I change?” I ask, turning back to Matt once I can’t find the bathroom on my own. 

“I’ll walk you.” He sighs, before he leads me out of the office side of the building, and towards the front. He stops in front of the bathrooms, opening the door for me. I step inside, closing and locking the door behind me. 

I peel off the horrible jumpsuit they had made me change into last night, slipping on my black mini skirt. I slide my arms through my tank top before I put on the belt, then finally my shoes. I gather the jail’s clothes, double checking my hair and makeup before opening the door. 

“Do I throw these away?” I asked Matt, who was without a doubt checking me out. I pop out my hip, slightly tilting my head. A grin graces my lips as his eyes shoot up to mine, a light blush dancing across his cheeks. 

He takes them from my grasp, his fingertips gently brushing against mine. Shocks shoot through my skin, but I wave it off as finding comfort with physical touch after the night I had. He walks me to the front door, stopping me before I make my escape. 

“I’ll be at your apartment at 9 AM tomorrow morning, for the first and hopefully only home visit.” He speaks lowly, peering down at me. 

“Huh?” I ask, genuinely confused. 

A slight smirk takes over his features, “I’m your probation officer, Y/N.”

[cami040405]

Between Art and Silence - Vincent Sinclair x Reader

Chapter 6: Beneath the Silence of the Walls

Summary: Tension builds in Ambrose as you discover more about the town's past and the Sinclair brothers, a duality continues to grow within you and a strong feeling begins to show itself.

Warnings: Mentions of death and suicide.

Chapter 5 here!

(A/N: This chapter turned out really long, I hope you're enjoying the story and how things are going for you and Vincent.)

The day dawned gray. The clouds weighed down on Ambrose like a thick curtain, muffling the sounds and plunging everything into a timeless torpor. You watched through the window, sitting in an old armchair, still holding the wax sculpture in your hands. During the night, you had barely slept. Your body begged for rest, but your mind refused. 

Vincent had not shown up again. Bo had not given any sign of life since the veiled conversation the day before. And Lester… well, you weren't sure what to think of him. He had a simple, almost gentle air. But even the sweetest people could hide thorns. You had to do something. You couldn't stand still. You had to understand. You had to see. You put on your coat, tied your hair in an improvised bun, and left the room with careful steps. 

The house was silent. The old boards groaned under your feet, but you tried to ignore the sound, as if you could become invisible at will. Downstairs, the house was a maze of antiques, carved furniture, and old portraits in dark wooden frames. You recognized a few faces in the frames—Trudy, the matriarch. Maybe the father. Twin children. Bo and Vincent’s features, small and still untouched by life.

But it was the hallway to the left of the kitchen that drew you in now. Something in you told you there was more to it than dust and memories. You pushed open a wooden door that led to a dimly lit basement. The smell of mold and rust hit you like a punch, but you went down anyway. Step by step.

Downstairs, a workshop.

But not like the others. This one was rougher. Sawdust on the floor, mannequin parts piled up in a corner, plaster molds and precision tools. There was something almost clinical about the organization of the space. At the back, a black curtain covered what looked like a smaller entrance.

You hesitated.

And then you heard footsteps above.

You froze.

The sound stopped, as if it had been imagined, you approached the curtain with your heart pounding. You pulled it slowly. Just enough to peek.

It was a small room, but what was there…

Mannequins. But not ordinary ones. They were so realistic that you felt a shiver run down your spine. An old man in an armchair. A girl in a wedding dress. A boy holding a balloon. All of them were paralyzed, their eyes lifeless. The wax on them looked… different. Thicker. More organic.

You stepped back. You swallowed hard, the feeling of panic invaded you in cold waves. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t art.

This was macabre.

You left the workshop in silence, your knees weak, your stomach churning. As you returned to the hallway, you heard a voice.

“Woke up early, huh?”

You almost jumped.

Bo. Leaning against the front door, with a lit cigarette and a restrained smile.

You tried to hide your nervousness.

— Yes… I thought I could get to know the house better.

Bo nodded slowly, his gaze scanning you from top to bottom. — Sure. Make yourself at home. My house is your house… for now.

His tone was calm, but it left something like a veiled threat in the air. You swallowed hard, forcing a smile.

— I was thinking about taking a walk. Maybe going to the gas station. See if you've made any progress with the GPS.

Bo took a drag on his cigarette, his gaze locked on yours. — Really? I can drive you. It's best not to walk around alone. The streets aren't safe.

You hesitated.

— I can go alone. It's close, isn't it?

He smiled, this time showing his teeth.

— Stubbornness. I like that.

He threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it with his boot. — But that’s okay. Go if you want. Just don’t be alarmed if you end up getting lost.

You nodded and left.

The path to the gas station was short, but the tension made it seem eternal. Every rusty sign, every dry twig cracking made you look over your shoulder. The wind blew hard, carrying dry leaves and the acrid smell of the forgotten city. The gas station seemed abandoned at first glance. The dirty windows, the gas pump with cobwebs. You had decided to explore further, if Bo didn’t want you there, then there was something wrong there.

You went down the stairs to the basement.

Now calmly, you could see that behind the surgical chair, there was a small office. Piled up papers, an old desk, a full trash can. You started to search, without knowing exactly what you were looking for.

And then you found a drawer with files.

Photos of people and cars with license plates from different states, maps with hand-drawn markings and dates written on them.

At the bottom of the drawer, a wallet. With documents. Cards. A photo.

You recognized the face. It was that of a young woman. The same one you had seen in one of the "sculptures" in the workshop.

Your blood ran cold.

Ambrose wasn't just weird. It was a trap.

Trying to stay calm, you put the document in the inside pocket of your coat. You needed proof. You needed to plan carefully. No running away. No alerting the brothers. They were dangerous. And you were in their midst.

As you left the station, you noticed a figure in the distance.

Vincent.

He was standing next to the old movie theater, watching you silently. The mask made it impossible to read his expression, but you felt like he knew you were discovering something.

And as strange as it seemed... he didn't look angry.

He looked... distressed.

You held on to your coat tightly.

The city was crumbling around you. But now you had a thread. A real thread that you would pull until all the wax fell away—revealing what really lay beneath Ambrose.

And maybe, just maybe… beneath Vincent, too.

You walked back to the house with measured steps, feeling the cold wind cutting through the gaps in your coat. The discovery at the gas station still throbbed in your mind like a constant alarm. The document, folded neatly in the inside pocket, felt like it weighed a ton. Every step you took was like walking on broken glass. Still, you kept your face calm.

You had to keep your disguise. You had to figure out who Vincent was.

When you reached the house, the gate was ajar, you crossed the porch and found the door unlocked. The interior seemed quieter than ever, as if the entire house knew what she had seen.

You went down the stairs that led to the basement you had seen earlier. As you passed through the hallway, you heard a soft sound of something being dragged.

You followed the sound.

It was Vincent’s studio — or at least part of it. He was there, but how did he get there so quickly and before you? It was a mystery, but you didn’t want to think about it at the moment. He was sitting at his work table, sculpting in silence. His bare hands covered in paraffin, paint stains on the arms of his sweatshirt. His movement was mesmerizing, methodical. Almost gentle.

You approached him slowly, respecting his space.

“Vincent...” you said hesitantly.

He looked up, slightly surprised. His eyes behind the mask fixed on yours. — “I know you don’t talk much,” you continued, your voice calm, soft, “but maybe… maybe you can listen to me.”

Vincent didn’t move immediately. He just watched. You bit your lower lip, searching for the right words.

“I saw some portraits in the house. Of you… children. Of your mother. Trudy, right?”

He nodded once, almost imperceptibly.

“Was she an artist too?”

A further pause. Then Vincent took something out of his apron pocket. His small notebook, worn at the edges. He pulled out a pen and scribbled something nimbly. Then he turned the page so that you could see:

“She taught me everything.”

You felt your stomach tighten. It was the first time you had seen direct words from Vincent. His handwriting was clean, precise, almost elegant.

“Were you close to her?”

He wrote again. You turned the page:

"She loved me just the way I was."

You scanned the words carefully, as if they might shatter.

"And... and your father?"

Vincent hesitated. The hand holding the pen shook slightly. He started to write, but stopped. He wrote again. When you turned the page, you read:

"Pain. Only pain."

You took a deep breath, fighting the empathy that overflowed in your voice.

"You didn't deserve this."

He looked away for a second. His fingers touched the surface of the sculpture in front of him, as if he were reconnecting with the art so as not to lose himself in the memories.

You moved a little closer.

"Is that why you... sculpt? To keep her memory alive?"

Vincent answered faster this time. He wrote only one word:

"Yes."

You felt a lump in your throat. There was something tragic about that silent man—something that went far beyond what any mask could hide.

— Vincent... — you spoke softly. — Why am I here? 

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached out and pointed to a canvas leaning against the corner of the studio.

You walked over to it, pulling back the cloth that covered it. And what you saw made your heart stop for a second.

It was a portrait of you.

Half unfinished, but still vivid. Your face was molded with stunning detail, your eyes expressive, and your hair sculpted with care. But there was something more — the way he had portrayed you. It wasn't just a portrait. It was... affection. Respect. Talent. Something intimate.

You turned slowly to Vincent. He was still standing there, watching.

— You saw me... really saw me — you whispered, moved. — Not as an intruder. But as... as someone.

Vincent lowered his head. He wrote calmly:

"You aren't afraid of me."

You read it. Then, without much thought, you took a step forward.

“No,” you said. “Not from you.”

For a moment, the silence between you was filled with something new. A tenuous trust. A bridge built between two damaged souls. But you were still in enemy territory—and you knew it.

So you asked boldly, without turning away:

“Vincent… What's Ambrose really?”

He froze.

The pencil slipped from your fingers. You didn’t flinch. Your eyes fixed on him.

Vincent hunched his shoulders, as if carrying the weight of an impossible answer. You closed your eyes for a moment. Ambrose was a labyrinth. But inside him, there was someone trying to show you the way. Silently. With gestures, sculptures... and now words. Vincent was not your enemy. 

But before you could say more, he slowly reached out and ran his hands through your hair and face, and like a whisper, he said: 

"Stay." 

The solitary word seemed to vibrate with a silent urgency. There was something in the way he said it—in the slight wavering of tone, in the way he almost tore the sound—that said so much more than the request itself. You looked up at him, uncertain. 

"Stay...? But... why?" 

Vincent didn't answer right away, because he didn't know how, because he himself didn't fully understand what was going on inside him. His mind, until then accustomed to living in silence and form, in plaster and wax, was in disarray. 

When he first saw you, confused at the entrance to the city, he felt the same indifference that protected him from the world. But as the days passed, something changed. You didn’t look at him with pity. Or with horror. You saw in him a man. An artist. Someone who was still human—even if Ambrose’s mirrors had tried to erase that image years ago.

But how to say that? How to explain that the warmth of your presence had become an unexpected refuge?

How to tell you that he didn’t want to let you go, but he also couldn’t bear to see you hurt?

So he wrote.

With more hesitant letters this time, almost timid:

“I don’t want you to go away.”

You read slowly. A deep silence filled the room, dense as Ambrose’s own atmosphere.

“Why?” you asked, your voice somewhere between surprise and the touch of something sweeter, more emotional.

Vincent didn’t answer. Because that was the question he had been asking himself since you arrived. Why you? Why, of all people, did you get through his defenses? Why, when he saw you sleeping that first night, he felt such a visceral, almost instinctive impulse of protection, as if your presence would erase — even if for a few seconds — the dark echo of the house he lived in?

He lowered his gaze, as if he was afraid you might see too much.

You took a step closer. Just one. You didn't invade. You didn't force it. You just let the space between you be filled with the truth that grew without words.

"What if I tell you that... I need to understand what's happening here?"

Vincent felt his chest tighten. Like a thorn buried in raw flesh.

Yes, you needed to understand. But there were things... things that even he couldn't face. Slowly, he wrote another sentence.

"There are things you can't see yet."

You felt the shiver down your spine.

"What if I insist?"

Vincent looked up. You saw the pain there. The fear. Not afraid of you—but for you. As if all the chaos about to be revealed could swallow you alive. As if he were the only shield between you and the abyss. 

He started to write, but stopped. He looked at you, then at the canvas with the still incomplete portrait. And there, in that silence, you understood. 

Vincent was torn. He wanted to keep you there. Because you meant something. Because you saw beauty where others only saw deformity. Because with you around, Ambrose didn’t seem so suffocating. But he also knew what Bo was capable of. What the city was capable of. And worst of all: he knew that one day you would find out everything. 

Vincent stepped back from the table a little, as if the weight of the world was on his broad shoulders. His trembling hands now rested on the wooden bench. You, carefully, touched his arm lightly.

He shivered, but didn’t back away.

“You don’t have to tell me everything now,” you murmured. “But I’m not going to run away, Vincent. Not from you.”

For a moment, the silence seemed to suspend time itself.

Vincent’s eyes shone beneath his mask, fixed on you, filled with a painful mix of confusion, fear, and something harder to name—something he’d long thought he couldn’t feel.

With an almost reverent care, you took another step closer. Your heart was beating loudly, but not from fear. There was a tension in the air, yes, but it was soft, like the thread of a secret about to break. Like the stroke of a brush on the first layer of canvas. You raised your hand slowly, lightly resting your fingers on his shoulder. Vincent didn’t pull away. His large, rigid body remained still, but his breathing was slightly shorter, irregular. The muscles, tense beneath the dark fabric, betrayed that he felt it. 

Every little touch.

Then, without saying anything else, you leaned in... and placed a soft kiss on the side of his mask, exactly where his cheek would be. It was a silent gesture, but one of overwhelming tenderness. 

A kiss that asked for nothing, demanded no answers. A kiss that said: you are worthy of affection, even if you don't believe it yet. Vincent remained still, as if the gesture had frozen the air around him. His trembling hands gripped the bench beneath him. The entire world seemed to shrink until it fit in that moment. He didn't know how to react. 

No one had ever touched him like that. Not since... Trudy. But this was different. It was gentle. Free of pity. Free of obligation. You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, still so close.

"I see you, Vincent," you whispered. And then you smiled. A small smile, full of truth. Vincent didn't move. He didn't dare. But inside him, something old and silent, dormant under years of wax, scars, and pain... was beginning to wake up.

And that terrified him as much as it comforted him.

Vincent felt the world spin in silence. That gesture—simple, small, almost ethereal—burned like fire beneath the mask. The exact spot where your lips had touched the cold ceramic now seemed to radiate an unbearable heat, a heat that didn’t come from your skin, but from what you had just awakened inside him.

His chest rose and fell with difficulty, as if breathing required effort. His throat tightened. His hands, still clasped to the sides of the bench, trembled imperceptibly. He didn’t know what to make of that gesture, that sweetness. He hadn’t been prepared for this.

All his life, he had been the monster in the attic. The mistake covered in wax. The hidden, deformed son. He was used to looks of disgust, to stifled laughter, to words spoken behind his back.

But you… you saw him.

And more than that: you chose him at that moment—without demanding that he be different, without fear in your eyes.

He wanted to touch you. He wanted to say something. But his voice was still a territory he didn’t know how to inhabit very well, and touch… touch terrified him. His body was made of scars, of broken memories, of pain that had accumulated like melted wax on his skin. And yet, something inside him—something small and fragile—wanted to try.

But he just stood there. Still. Panting. Feeling more human—and more vulnerable—than he had ever felt before.

You, on the other hand, felt your heart racing… but not from fear. There was a lively tension in your body, like electricity under your skin. The palm of your hand still tingled from the touch on his shoulder. Your lips, which had touched his mask, seemed charged with the echo of something greater than words.

You knew what you had done. You knew you had been bold. But you didn’t regret it. Inside you, a mixture of empathy, tenderness, and curiosity stirred like an underground river. You couldn’t explain exactly why you felt such a connection with him. It was an impulse, yes, but also a conscious choice. You saw him as something beyond the mask, beyond the silence. He was… complex. Painful. And beautiful, in his own twisted and profound way.

And by kissing him there, you wanted to show him that. That he didn’t need to hide. That he could, at least with you, exist. Your chest tightened with a kind of soft anxiety—the kind of anxiety that comes from doing something real and not knowing what the response will be. But in his eyes, even if shy, you saw the reflection of something good. Something that trembled, yes, but that responded.

You understood him more than he could imagine. And deep down, you knew: this was just the beginning of a connection that could both heal… and consume you both.

.

The silence that followed the kiss was so thick it could be cut with a blade. Vincent remained still. You pulled back slowly, your eyes still locked on his—or on what you could see through the crack in his mask. The heat between you still vibrated, and even without words, there was an exchange. Something undeniable.

You didn't say anything else. You just gave one last gentle, caring look before turning around and going back up to the bedroom.

Vincent stood there.

Alone.

His heart pounding with a strength he didn't recognize. His hands clasped on his knees, as if he was holding back a primitive impulse to follow you. An impulse he would never have allowed himself. The mask hid his expression, but inside... he was in ruins.

You closed the door slowly. The room welcomed you with the faint smell of old wood and the soft light coming through the window. But inside you, everything was a storm.

You threw yourself on the bed, but not to sleep. You lay on your side, your trembling fingers brushing your own lips, you had done it. Kissed the mask of someone you barely knew — and yet, you knew in a strange, almost intimate way. There was a trust there that you yourself didn't fully understand, but that you felt was true.

Your cheeks were still burning. Did he understand what I meant? Did he feel the same? — you thought.

But more than that, you felt like you were diving into something bigger. Something dangerous, but also precious. Vincent was silence, yes. But a silence full of voice, full of pain... and full of beauty. You closed your eyes, letting your breathing slow down little by little. For the first time since you had set foot in Ambrose, you felt a spark of security. Not of the city, not of the situation — but of him. Of Vincent.

And maybe it was crazy, but something inside you told you that he would never hurt you.

.

At the Sinclair house, while you and Vincent were talking, Bo was in the garage, fiddling with an old engine part. He grabbed a rag to wipe his hands and walked up the creaky steps to the front of the house. The coffee cup was still steaming on the table. 

The sound of the street was hollow, almost dead. Bo leaned against the wall, staring at the painting of Trudy in the living room. 

“Mama, your little boy is in love,” he murmured, with a half-smile. “He’s going to get screwed. Again…” 

Later, when Vincent returned, Bo was waiting in the front hall. 

“She’s taking you with her, isn’t she?” Bo said bluntly. 

Vincent stopped. The notebook was tucked under his arm. He didn’t say anything. Bo stepped closer, his tone full of calm venom. “Do you think she’ll stay when she finds out who you are? What we are?” 

Vincent didn’t move. 

“She’ll run. She’ll scream. And you’ll have to decide. Either kill… or lose.” 

Vincent's grip on the pad tightened. Bo sighed and stepped closer, low and cruel:

"You want to protect her? Do you think she'll love you? Look at you. A walking scar. A failed artist trapped in the shadow of a rotten past. Do you know what will be left when she finds out? Pity. And then, disgust."

Vincent's hands shook. He turned, ready to leave, but Bo grabbed him tightly by the shoulder.

"I won't let her ruin everything. You may be in love, but I've been taking care of us since the beginning. Ever since Dad killed himself. And if I have to kill her to keep everything going... I'll do it."

Vincent pushed his hand away hard. His eyes burned behind his mask. But he didn't attack. He didn't fight back. He just walked away, as if each step was a protest.

Bo shouted from behind:

"If you're not strong enough, I'll be strong enough for both of us, brother!"

.

Vincent went into his room and locked the door. His hands were shaking. His eyes were burning. He wanted to destroy everything around him, but he couldn’t. 

You were his only light. His only chance at redemption. But keeping you there… was also condemning you. He leaned against the counter. He pulled out his notebook, but didn’t write anything. His fingers gripped the pencil as if they were about to break it. The mask muffled his face, but his eyes… his eyes were watery. 

He hadn’t cried in years. Not after Trudy. Not after he’d learned to lock everything inside himself. But now, there was you. You with your deep eyes, your delicate hands, and that look that saw. You hadn’t screamed. You hadn’t pulled away. You touched your mouth to his mask—a gesture so intimate, so surreal, that he still wondered if it hadn’t been a figment of his own imagination. 

Vincent ran his fingers over his ceramic cheek, as if he could feel the heat still etched there. He wanted to do something. He wanted to respond.

But what?

He hadn't learned how to be loved. Only how to be feared. Manipulated. Silenced. And now... now someone dared to treat him like a man. Like a human. He walked over to the shelf and took out a small wooden slab. He began to carve. His fingers were nimble, methodical. It was the only way he knew how to speak—through art. Through his hands.

It was a bird. Fragile, but with its wings spread. And on the animal's chest, he carved something simple: a curved line like a smile, and a closed eye.

It would be his gift to you. When he was ready. When he could find the courage to offer it.

In the room above, you looked at the wax sculpture Vincent had given you. You ran your fingers over the soft curves, thinking about him.

Downstairs, Vincent was molding wood as if he were trying to shape a future. Both of you separated by the floor of the house. But connected, in silence. And by the beginning of something that neither of you could name yet.

But it burned…

And it grew.

Like a flame in the middle of wax.

.

[kezdispenser]

Breaking Character pt13/13

Summary: You are the new cast member of 'The Boys' and you play Butcher's cousin and Soldier Boy's new love interest 'Solene'. You're introduced to the cast by the director at a dinner and you're seated next to Karl and Jensen to "bond".

Jensen had spent weeks trying to figure out the perfect way to propose. It had to be big because this woman had changed his entire life, turned it inside out, and made him better—but it also had to feel like them. He didn’t want a flashy, red-carpet moment with paparazzi. He didn’t want to do it at some fancy event with a million eyes watching.

This was about her, him, and the kids.

So, he planned. And over-planned. He ran through every possible scenario, debated for hours with Jared and Misha, even called his mom for advice.

And in the end, it came down to one question:

"What would make her laugh, cry, and call me an idiot all at once?"

The answer?

A freaking treasure hunt.

It was supposed to be a normal night. A simple, quiet evening at home.

At least, that’s what Y/N thought.

She was curled up on the couch in one of Jensen’s hoodies, flipping through a book while the kids played a game on the floor. The air smelled like popcorn and chocolate, leftovers from their earlier movie night.

And then, out of nowhere, JJ climbed onto the couch and plopped directly onto Y/N’s stomach.

Y/N groaned. “Kid, I love you, but you weigh more than you think.”

JJ just grinned and shoved a folded piece of paper into her hands. “You need to read this. Now.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What is this? Your report card? Am I supposed to be proud or concerned?”

Zeppelin giggled. “It’s a clue.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered to Jensen, who sat on the opposite couch with a smug as hell expression. Arms crossed, looking way too pleased with himself.

“Oh no.” Y/N groaned. “What did you do?”

Jensen smirked. “Read it and find out, sweetheart.”

She narrowed her eyes at him but unfolded the note anyway.

"For someone who stole my heart, it’s only fair you find the missing pieces. Clue #1: Where Zeppelin always hides when it’s bath time."

Y/N barked out a laugh. “Under the stairs? Seriously?”

Zeppelin gasped dramatically. “HOW DID YOU KNOW?”

Y/N ruffled his hair. “Because I see you, little dude.”

The kids shrieked and took off running toward the hiding spot under the stairs, practically dragging Y/N along.

Jensen stayed behind for a second, just watching. Watching her. Watching the way she fit so seamlessly into their lives, the way the kids clung to her, the way her laughter filled every corner of the house.

He exhaled slowly.

"This is it," he thought. "This is everything."

And then, shaking himself out of his thoughts, he followed after them.

Each clue led her through different parts of the house—each one tied to a moment in their relationship.

The kitchen, where they had their first real argument because Jensen used the wrong kind of cheese in the mac and cheese (she still hadn’t let him live that down).

The living room couch, where the kids had first told Y/N they loved her.

The porch swing, where they had shared countless late-night talks, their hands intertwined, the world quiet around them.

Every single stop was a memory. A reminder. A piece of their story.

By the time she reached the final clue, her fingers were trembling slightly as she unfolded it.

"Look to the sky. Your last clue is waiting."

Y/N frowned. “Look to the—”

And then she heard it.

A loud, whooshing sound.

She turned around—her eyes widening as she took in the giant hot air balloon in the backyard, glowing softly under the fairy lights that Jensen had strung up in the trees.

Y/N froze. “You have GOT to be kidding me.”

Jensen, standing next to it with his hands in his pockets, just grinned. “What, you scared?”

She turned to the kids. “Are you guys going in this?”

JJ nodded, bouncing on her feet. “DUH! It’s gonna be so fun!”

Arrow beamed. “Dad said it’s safe.”

Y/N shot Jensen a glare. “You trust him?”

“Hey,” Jensen scoffed, holding a hand over his heart. “I take great care of you guys.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You almost cut your damn eye out trying to open a bottle of wine last week.”

“…Okay, but—”

“I had to drive us to the ER.”

“Technicalities, sweetheart.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head, but she still let Jensen take her hand and lead her toward the balloon. “If we die, I’m haunting you.”

Jensen smirked. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The view from above was breathtaking.

The town below looked so small, the sky was painted in streaks of orange, pink, and deep purple. The air was crisp, the world quiet except for the occasional gasp from the kids as they looked out over the edge.

Jensen turned to her, his heart hammering.

This was it.

“Y/N,” he started, pulling her attention back to him.

She blinked. “Yeah?”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. “Look—I’ve thought about doing this a million different ways. Something big, something crazy, something quiet. But at the end of the day, the only thing that really matters is you, me, and these little monsters.”

Arrow gasped. “Did you just call us monsters?”

Jensen smirked. “Affectionately.”

Y/N let out a breathless laugh.

“The truth is,” Jensen continued, “I didn’t think I’d ever do this again. I thought love like this wasn’t in the cards for me. And then you came along, and you made everything easy. Even the hard shit. Even the fights, even the chaos—you made it all worth it. You made me worth it.”

Y/N’s eyes were already glossy with unshed tears.

“So,” he said, finally flipping open the box, revealing the ring. “Here I am, in a fucking hot air balloon, with my heart in my hands, asking you to marry me.”

JJ nearly screamed. “SAY YES!”

Y/N covered her face, laughing and crying at the same time. Then she dropped her hands, shaking her head.

“You absolute idiot,” she muttered.

Jensen swallowed. “…Is that a yes or—”

She lunged forward and kissed him, hard.

The kids cheered. Jensen was grinning into the kiss. And when she finally pulled back, pressing her forehead against his, she whispered, “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Jensen slipped the ring onto her finger, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles.

And as the hot air balloon floated higher into the sky, carrying them into forever, he whispered, “Good, ‘cause you’re stuck with me now.”

Jensen had never been the kind of guy to dream about his wedding day. Not really.

But this? This felt right. No over-the-top, Hollywood-style spectacle. No paparazzi swarming the venue. Just their closest friends, family, and the people who had been part of their journey from the very start. It was grand, because loving her deserved something grand. But it was also intimate, because this was theirs.

And today, she would become his wife.

The wedding was held at a private ranch in Texas—wide open fields, towering oak trees, and the sky stretching endlessly above them. Fairy lights wrapped around the wooden beams of the barn, candles flickered on every table, and wildflowers lined the aisle leading to the altar. It was rustic but elegant. Warm and inviting.

Just like them.

The sun was beginning to set, casting golden light over everything, and Jensen stood at the altar, hands clasped together, heart pounding in his chest.

Jared, his best man, leaned in and muttered, “You look like you’re gonna puke, man.”

Jensen let out a breathless chuckle. “Not helping.”

Misha, standing on the other side, smirked. “You cry, I cry. That’s how this works.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, but his grip on the inside of his jacket tightened. He hadn’t seen Y/N all day, hadn’t even spoken to her since last night.

And then, suddenly—

The music started.

A soft, acoustic version of “Iris” played through the air.

And there she was.

Jensen felt his breath hitch the second she stepped into view.

Y/N was stunning.

Her dress was everything he imagined it would be—timeless, effortless, breathtaking. The fabric hugged her in all the right places before flowing out, delicate lace trailing behind her. The setting sun bathed her in golden light, making her look almost unreal.

But it wasn’t just the dress.

It was her.

The way she looked at him like he was the only person in the world. The way her lips curved into a soft, knowing smile. The way her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

Jensen swallowed hard.

Jared nudged him. “Dude.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re crying.”

Jensen blinked rapidly, clearing his throat. “Shut up.”

When Y/N finally reached him, Jensen exhaled deeply, taking both of her hands in his.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered.

She grinned. “Hey, husband-to-be.”

The officiant started speaking, but Jensen barely heard him. His world had shrunk down to just her—the feeling of her fingers interlaced with his, the way her chest rose and fell with every nervous breath.

And then, it was time for the vows.

Jensen cleared his throat, pulling out a small piece of paper.

“I tried to write something short,” he started, voice rough with emotion. “But you know me. I suck at keeping things simple.”

A soft chuckle rippled through the crowd.

“I’ve been in love before,” he started, voice thick. “I thought I knew what it meant. I thought I understood what love was. But I was wrong. Because love isn’t just the easy parts. It’s not just the good mornings, the kisses, the date nights. Love is the days when nothing makes sense. When everything is falling apart. When you feel like you’re standing in the middle of a storm, and you don’t know which way is forward.

And Y/N—" He exhaled shakily, tightening his grip on her hands. “You were my way forward. You are my way forward.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and Jensen reached up, brushing it away with his thumb.

“I love you,” he said. “Not just for the person you are, but for the person you make me want to be. I love the way you laugh too loudly, the way you steal my coffee even though you have your own, the way you take care of everyone around you. I love every little piece of you, and I promise you—” His voice cracked. “I promise to choose you. Over and over. Every single day. For the rest of my life.”

Y/N let out a soft, choked laugh, wiping at her eyes.

She sniffled, blinking up at him with so much love it nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Her voice was shaky when she started, full of emotion. “Jensen… I spent so much of my life thinking love had to be complicated. That it had to be a battle, something to fight for, to prove. And then I met you. And you taught me that love doesn’t have to be a war.”

She squeezed his hands, her lips trembling.

“You showed me that love can be safe. That it can be warm, and steady, and something I never have to second-guess. You have been my best friend, my partner, the person I trust with every part of me. And today, I get to call you my husband.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she was smiling.

“I promise to love you,” she said softly. “In the big moments and the small ones. In the quiet mornings and the stormy nights. I promise to stand beside you, to fight for you, to be the person who reminds you every single day that you are so, so loved.”

Her voice broke on the last words, and Jensen felt a tear slip down his own cheek.

There was silence—just for a second. Just long enough for the moment to settle deep in his bones.

Then, the officiant spoke.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

And Jensen—he didn’t waste a second.

He cupped her face, pulled her in, and kissed her like it was the first time, the last time, and every time in between.

The world melted away.

It was just them.

It had always been just them.

And now, forever, it would be.

They had fought for this, for each other, for the family they had built together. From the chaos of their early days, the ups and downs, the moments of doubt and confusion, they had weathered every storm. The kids, their laughter, the fights, the makeups—each part of their life together was like a piece of a puzzle, finally fitting into place.

As they stood there, exchanging vows, Jensen’s voice cracked with emotion. He wasn’t just making a promise to Y/N in that moment; he was sealing everything they had been through together—every single sacrifice, every shared moment of joy. And Y/N, with her heart full of everything she had ever hoped for, knew they had finally found their way home.

Later, in the quiet of their home, as the world outside settled into peaceful slumber, they curled up together on the couch, their fingers intertwined. Their hearts beat in sync, the weight of their journey no longer a burden but a testament to their love.

They had been through hell and back, but now, they were ready to face whatever came next. Together.

And as Y/N rested her head against Jensen’s chest, she knew that no matter where life took them, they had found something unbreakable. They had found each other.

THE END

----------------

A/N: so yes, i did cry. im so sorry if this wasnt what you guys were expecting but this is all i could do, i've got finals in three days but here it is! This is the end of Breaking Character, and i'm so proud of how this entire series turned out, I didn't expect so much love from you guys. Thank you all <3

@justwhisperingfantasies @impala67rollingthroughtown @deansimpalababy @jackles010378 @winchester @barnes70stark @nancymcl @oceean @spnaquakindgdom @ladysparkles78 @sexyvixen7 @spxideyver @stoneyggirl2 @star-yawnznn @quietgirll75 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @palerogue1 @writtenbyhollywood

[dronebiscuitbat]

Give me a Reason: Chapter 5 - "The Elliots"

N and Tessa made there way through the foyer, decorated with mahogany and antique furniture, the windows adored with velvet curtains and cleaned until you couldn't tell it was glass anymore.

There was a servant waiting for them, dressed to the nines. A clean shaven face, and short black hair with steel colored eyes. A pressed black vest over a white dress shirt and a black bow tie, N didn't know his name, he didn't know any of the servants names.

“Young Master Tessa, Master Louisa requests your presence in her study.” The servant said, monotone, with his hands behind his back.

“Of course she does… ‘ight N, see you at dinner.” She sighed and waved him off, leaving him in the foyer smiling warily at the servant, going up to his room alone it was.

There were two sets of spiral staircases the led upwards, and two hallways either side, one lead to an expansive library, full of every book, magazine and article you could imagine, the other a large dining hall, despite the table being made for twenty people, there were only ever five people sitting there at a time… usually less.

He started his way up the stairs passing hall after closed off hall of doors that lead to the different rooms of the manor, if he was being honest he didn’t know what was in most of them, they'd just moved. And he hadn't had time to actually explore his own home.

Not… that he wanted to, going from living in a modern, sleek, polished marble and right angles to this was a little bit of a culture shock. He didn't mind the rural setting; much preferred it to the foggy, polluted skyline he was used to. It was the manor itself that was… creepy.

If you would have him describe “haunted manor.” Then he'd describe the inside of this place down to the tan walls with wood accents and the ancient, well maintained hardwood underneath his feet. It wasn't just how old the place was either. Mr. And Mrs. Elliot had hired enough servents to keep the place spotless and looking like new.

It was just so big. So empty, so… oppressive.

And lonely…

He shook off those thoughts, it was fine, he'd just have to adjust to it, he was always good at going with anything, surely this would be no different.

“Don't be such a bitch J.”

“Then don't be such a pussy, V.”

Ah, that sounded like his sisters off in the next room over, bickering as per usual and probably about something small or nothing at all.

“I am not letting you anywhere near my room! Not my fault it has a window and your's doesn't, your's is bigger anyway!”

“But I'm the oldest, I deserve the window.”

“By eleven minutes! I want to see the garden, you have access to the library! Which you bitched and moaned about until you got, in case you don't remember.”

“You just want the window because it looks over the garden.”

“And? You just want the window because I enjoy looking over the garden and you have the inability to feel joy and must drag everyone else into the misery pit with you.”

“Give me your room.”

“No. Fuck you, suck my dick.”

N sighed, of all the things that had changed. That didn't, and he doubted it ever would. When he rounded the corner that's when he actually saw them, instead of listening to just their voices bickering.

V was the middle child out of the three, and she was the shortest too, if you call 5'10 short. She had short platinum blonde hair that was styled in a bob, a hairband keeping it in place perched on her head. Right now, she was in grey sweatpants and a black crop top, her arms crossed and amber eyes looking up and irate at her older sibling.

J was looking down at her, hand on her hip and long, similarly platinum hair going all the way down to her waist, she usually wore it up in a dual pair of pigtails or a ponytail, but that was absent for the moment. She wasn't in nearly the same casual clothes as V. With a short, black skirt, black, 4inch heels, and a grey business jacket over a white dress shirt. The sunglasses perched on her head were ever present, only leaving when she was sleeping. She had to have just come home if she was dressed like that.

“Hey guys.” He gave a smile towards the both of them, V gave a half-hearted smile and a wave at him, while J just rolled her eyes and scoffed, sticking her nose up at him.

“Ugh, whatever.” J walked off, heels clicking as she went down the hall towards her room, V let out a long suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose before she looked N over.

“Good first day?” She asked, leaning against the wall and giving him a small smile, he relaxed a little bit, without J around, V tended to be in a better mood.

“Yeah! My teachers all seem nice! And I made a friend… I think.” When he thought about Uzi, she seemed…quiet, but also not? He wasn't entirely sure if he would consider what they had a ‘freindship’ per say. He thought she was cool, and they'd talked a handful of times.

Which was… more then he had with most people honestly, most found him a little… much.

“You think? What's that supposed to mean,” She curled

“It was mostly me talking…” He admitted, rubbing the back of his head and grinning sheepishly. “But! She let me borrow a pencil! That I… forgot to give back… but still!”

“Sounds like you just met someone and they took pity on you.” V replied, a dry sarcastic tone to her voice that gave away that she was teasing… mostly.

“Hey!” He yelped, ears turning pink.

“What? Don't call it a friendship if it's clearly not. Did you guys talk… about anything?”

“Uh… Mrs. Sparks had like animal heads and stuff floating in jars, we talked about that and… she told me she has a pig baby in one of them.”

“Ew. Anything else?”

“I gave her some of my lunch! The cafeteria kinda… completely ruined her food and so I gave her the tuna sandwich.”

“How'd they ruin it? Actually, don't answer that it's public school food.” Still she pondered it for a moment before shrugging. “That's like, an acquaintance, but whatever.”

“It's… the same thing isn't it?”

“Nope. But I gotta get to work, clothes don't model themselves.” She gave him a breif wave before checking her phone and grumbling to herself, walking off and out of sight.

Her and J , being out of school and a bit older then him, had other things to do. J was still going to college, business school of course, V took a different route, said no to more school and put herself on display, literally… she modeled for a few designer brands, and was sometimes stopped on the streets for her picture.

N was the youngest out of the three, being 18 and still in high school, though his last year thankfully, he'd always done decently in school, forgotten homework assignments and disorganization notwithstanding.

He entered his room, the heavy, creaking wooden door snapping shut loudly behind him as he looked around his room.

It was… bland. The bed was huge with crimson blankets made out of the smoothest kind of cashmere silk imaginable, the sheets light pink and light enough to feel like nothing when slept in.

But the walls were bare, his desk clean and devoid of everything but his grey laptop and a cup of pencils. The floor having only a basic rug directly underneath and around the bed. He had two small windows either side it, looking over the front of the manor and the driveway.

The only real thing of note was a well loved golden retriever plush resting on the bed, faded and the fur pressed down from being hugged night after night, he smiled at it, hooking his backpack on the back of his chair.

“Big brother Nathan?”

A small, shy little voice called out to him from behind the door to the connected room and he smiled, kicking off his shoes and taking off his hoodie, showing the basic grey t-shirt underneath.

“It's me!” He called back, opening the door to his little sisters room. Cynthia, or Cyn and everyone affectionately called her. She was reading, though now she looked up at him with big, innocent eyes that matched the rest of the siblings, along with her hair, held in a similar style to Tessa’s; mostly because she was the one who always styled it.

Her legs were covered by the blankets of her bed, and she beamed, sharing her older brother's sunshine of a smile as she made grabby hands at him.

Cyn was 6, the last and true youngest of the siblings. She was sweet… if having a peculiar interest in superstition, and N couldn't ask for a better little sister.

“Welcome back! How was school? Did you meet anyone? Were they cool? Can I meet them?” She immediately asked four questions in quick succession, each one making his smile a little wider.

“Good. Yes, yes. Maybe. In that order.” He replied as he wrapped her in a gentle hug, her arms gripping loosely around his neck. She giggled when he blew a raspberry on her cheek.

“And what did you do today Cyn?”

“Tessa brought up some more books for me to read! And then I got lunch… I heard J screaming at someone!”

“Have you not been out of your room today?”

“Uh. No… haven't felt very well, Tessa was at work and Big Sisters Vanessa and Jessica were busy…” She seemed a little sad, but N was here to make sure that didn't last very long.

“You want to take a stroll around the garden before dinner. I can take you.” He asked gently, and Cyn’s eyes lit up and she beamed.

“Yes! Thank you!”

With that, N leaned down and reached under her bed;

And pulled out a neatly folded wheelchair.

[v1bestillax]

Love,Me Normally

Simeon X reader

A/n:Okay, so... I was bored. Like, really bored. So I sat down, stared at the screen for a good 10 minutes, and then thought, "Why not write a fanfic where Simeon is the calm, quiet winner in a competition full of chaos?" And here we are. I didn’t plan on this turning into a whole thing, but I guess sometimes my boredom just gets the best of me.If you enjoyed it, great! If not, well... I’m also just here for the chaos. Anyway, if this was somehow amusing (or you just want more random boredom-driven stories), let me know! Who knows when the next “what am I doing with my life” writing session will happen.(I was also lazy to edit so yeah..enjoy?)

Listen to this when reading!

It had started as a simple idea. The brothers—Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor—had all conspired to get your attention, each of them with their own approach, eager to win your heart. They knew you were a special person, and the idea of having a date with you was a prize they all sought. But in the end, it was Simeon who had your heart in the most sincere way.

It all started with the planning. Each brother had come up with their own unique plan to impress you, though none of them knew they were all secretly competing against one another. Lucifer had arranged for a private evening at the luxurious Devil's Palace, Mammon offered a night of thrilling treasure hunts, Leviathan suggested an anime marathon at the cinema, and Asmodeus, well... he’d offered a day at the spa. It was chaos, really.

Simeon, on the other hand, had been quietly observing, never one to make a big spectacle of his feelings. He was a man of grace, charm, and sincerity. He knew you well enough to understand what would win your heart, and that wasn’t through flashy gestures or brashness. His approach was subtle, simple, but full of heart.

On the day of the date, you found yourself caught in the middle of the brothers' competition, and despite all their efforts, you couldn’t help but notice the calm, reassuring presence of Simeon among them. His smile was genuine, his words thoughtful, and there was something about the way he looked at you that made you feel at ease.

“[Y/N],” he said softly, stepping forward from the rest of the group as the other brothers bickered over their ideas. “I’d like to take you somewhere... quiet. Just the two of us.”

His offer was different. It wasn’t a battle of who could do the most extravagant thing, it was a simple invitation to spend time with him, to talk, to connect.

The rest of the brothers seemed to quiet down as Simeon led you out of the room, his hand lightly resting on your shoulder in the gentlest way. It was clear that, despite all their plans, they weren’t going to win this round. You were intrigued by Simeon’s approach and, truth be told, you were relieved to be escaping the chaos they had created.

The two of you arrived at a quiet, elegant restaurant tucked away in a peaceful corner of the Devildom. The dim lighting, the soft music, and the scent of fine food created a tranquil atmosphere. Simeon guided you to a corner table, and you both took a seat, enjoying the intimate setting away from the noise of the world.

As you sipped on your drink, the conversation flowed naturally. You spoke about everything and nothing—your shared love for art, your favorite books, the little details that made you laugh. Simeon was easy to talk to, and the more you spoke, the more you felt a deep connection with him. It wasn’t the grandeur of a perfect date that mattered; it was the ease in which he made you feel like you were the most important person in the room.

“So,” Simeon began, his voice soft but carrying an edge of curiosity, “how do you feel about the brothers and their... competition?” His eyes glinted with amusement, though he seemed genuinely interested in your thoughts.

You smiled, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “They can be... a lot,” you admitted, taking another sip of your drink. “But I can see they all care, in their own way.”

Simeon smiled back, the warmth in his gaze making your heart flutter slightly. “They do,” he said, “but sometimes, the simplest gestures speak the loudest.” His hand reached across the table, resting near yours, not demanding anything, just offering a presence of comfort and peace.

You stared at his hand for a moment, feeling an undeniable pull toward him. There was something about Simeon’s quiet strength, his sincerity, that made everything else feel insignificant. It wasn’t about flashy grand gestures—it was about moments like these. Simple, genuine, filled with warmth.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Simeon’s smile softened, and for a moment, there was a silent understanding between you both. The night passed by peacefully, filled with easy conversation, delicious food, and a shared connection that went beyond the ordinary. You felt like you had finally found a place of calm in a world that often felt overwhelming.

By the end of the evening, you knew that Simeon had won your heart—not through competition, but through the kindness, understanding, and sincerity he showed you. And as he walked you back, his hand gently resting against yours, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that this was the beginning of something special.

Simeon had quietly claimed your heart, without needing to compete, and for that, you were grateful.

[mumms-the-word]

Midnight Snack

Characters: Alistair x Warden Cousland Summary: Alistair insinuates that he's got plans for him and Sorina as they share a proper bed for the first time since they began traveling together. At first it's not entirely what Sorina had in mind, but she's not complaining. A/N: Wrote this for the super duper talented @alsoika (who also sketched this art of their warden, Sorina, which lowkey inspired this fic in the first place) for their birthday! Check out their other DA and BG3 art, you won't be disappointed! Happy birthday, friend, I hope this little scene made you smile :D

It was far too late in the day, well into the night, by the time Sorina and her companions finished discussing their next moves with Teagan and a newly-awakened Arl Eamon. For a man weakened from being poisoned and then forced into a magical coma, Eamon was nevertheless a logistical and political force to be reckoned with, and he refused to rest until they had a plan nailed down.

But some of his plans and proposals were…ambitious. The first was necessary—continue gathering armies for the inevitable battles ahead. They were doing that anyway, so Sorina didn’t mind the reminder. But the second…was to make Alistair the king of Ferelden.

Sorina had never considered it a legitimate possibility before. She knew he was Maric’s son, but he was illegitimate and clearly disinterested in kingship. Yet Eamon was determined. Contrarily, for every ounce of determination Eamon possessed about the idea, Alistair possessed as much, if not more, resistance.

Sorina wasn’t yet sure of her own opinion on the matter. All she knew, watching Teagan help a still-weak Eamon return to his room, was that it sounded like there were some impossible choices to make in the not-so-distant future.

A hand on her shoulder broke through her thoughts, and she turned to see Alistair looking at her expectantly.

“Come on,” he said. “We should get some rest. I’ll take you to our room.”

Sorina arched an eyebrow. “Our room?”

The last time they had spent a night in Redcliffe Castle, they’d had separate rooms, simple ones that could be prepared with whatever staff had been left over from the undead attacks. She assumed they would be returning to those rooms now.

But Alistair’s face had a light flush as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to look casual. “Yeah. I mean—with Eamon awake and the castle safe and everything, more people have returned to the castle, so the rooms got changed up. I told Teagan we could share, so…”

“Oh? How…proactive of you,” Sorina said, smirking. She could spot where his mind was headed from a mile away. It was no surprise, considering they’d spent every night sharing a tent since the night she’d cornered him and asked him if he was interested in a little late-night “sparring.” One-on-one. Without clothing. He eventually got the hint. So, yeah, why not share a room?

“Yeah, well, it happens on occasion,” he muttered. He shook his head and reached for her hand. “Come on, let’s just go, shall we?”

“Eager, aren’t we?” she teased.

“Ohoho, yes, we’re all laughing. Keep that up and I’ll have to find myself a nice corner to cry in and none of us will have any fun.”

But despite his sarcasm, he didn’t let go of her hand as he led her up the stairs and into the guest wing of the castle. As they passed through the hallway, she saw some of the doors open, with their companions milling about inside. Zevran in particular looked keenly interested in a locked jewelry case on the vanity of his room, but Alistair pulled them away before either of them could see whether Zevran would attempt to pick the locks.

The room next door was spacious and clean, better than anything Sorina had slept in since becoming a Warden, but not quite so good as home. A pang of nostalgia and sorrow threatened to pierce her heart as she eyed the wall hangings and furniture, all typical Ferelden style but reserved for a more wealthy class of folk. It wasn’t that different from the guest rooms at her home in Highever, though the heraldry here was all Redcliffe rather than the laurel wreath on a field of blue, the heraldry of the Couslands.

She wondered whether there was anything left of her home now. The last she’d seen of Castle Cousland, it was swarming with Howe’s soldiers. She had no way of knowing if it was even still standing, or if Howe had razed it to the ground.

Alistair seemed oblivious to her sudden quiet. He pulled off the majority of his armor and wasted no time flopping backward onto the bed with a big, contented sigh.

“I can’t remember the last time I slept in a bed this nice,” he said, stretching out across the width of it, his armored legs and feet hanging over the side. “It’s been nothing but bedrolls, bad bunks, and bed bugs for the last year or more.”

Sorina reached for the buckles of her own armor, smiling a little, grateful for the distraction. “Even when you were at the monastery?”

“Especially then. Nothing but bad bunks all the way through.” He paused. “Now that I think about it, maybe I’ve never had the luxury of a bed this nice.”

He propped himself up on one elbow and shot Sorina a sly grin. “I know for a fact I’ve never shared a bed with company as charming and gorgeous as you, though. Lucky me.”

Sorina rolled her eyes, unbuckling the last of her armor straps and pulling the plate metal away from her body. “Say that again when I’m not in a silverite case of heavy armor. Maybe I’ll believe you.”

“I think you look gorgeous in and out of the armor, honestly.”

The compliment was disarming in its easy, genuine quality, more so than in its speed. There was a hint of warmth and flirtatiousness in his tone, a mischievous glint in his eye, but he was sincere. He was always sincere when he was dishing out compliments like that.

Sorina couldn’t help but soften. She went over to the bed, gesturing for him to sit up, and bent to kiss him. “You’re sweet,” she murmured, drawing away. She took a couple of steps back and started working on removing the greaves and bracers of her armor, raising her eyebrows playfully at his pouting expression. “Saving all your spice for later?”

He grinned. “Oh, just you wait, I have plans for tonight that would make a bard blush.”

“Oh?” Sorina cocked her head to one side. She didn’t fully believe him. “Zevran wouldn’t have happened to help you with any of those plans, would he? I overheard him attempting to give you advice the other day.”

The grin disappeared, replaced with an offended flush. “No! Well—” He paused and then quickly shook his head. “No, that doesn’t count. No. I don’t need advice from Zevran, thanks.”

She crossed her arms, smirking. “You sure? He has the experience and plenty of good ideas. He’s right next door if you want me to ask hi—”

Alistair grimaced and held up a hand. “Please, let’s not bring Zevran between us. Physically or metaphorically. My heart can’t take it.”

Sorina grinned. “Physically? Or metaphorically?”

“Both.”

“What if I’m between you and Zevran instead?”

“That’s—not—” He stammered and then cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sorina just laughed. “You are the worst.”

“But you love me,” she said simply, returning to the bed now clad in nothing but her shirt and trousers. She climbed onto the mattress and pulled his hand away from his face, then took his chin and turned him toward her for another kiss. “Don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

He relented easily with a soft little sigh. “That I do,” he murmured. He turned and pressed in closer for a deeper, longer kiss before, at last, a little breathless, Sorina pressed a hand on his chest to put space between them.

“So what are these plans, then?” she asked.

“Well…” Alistair gave her an impish smile. “Since we’re here and Eamon is better, we should take advantage of his goodwill. We have this nice, big bed, you know, and we could…” He trailed off, eyeing her to make sure she was still keeping up, still curious.

She played along, skimming her fingers up the taut muscle of his arm. “We could…?”

“We could…raid the larder for some midnight snacks.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I know where they keep the good cheese.”

She blinked, utterly not expecting that answer, and then burst into quick laughter. She ought to have known.

The tension in his body from her earlier teasing relaxed in an instant, a ready smile on his lips at her laughter. Despite his several talents, this man was never more at ease, never more contented, than when he was making someone else smile.

“Okay,” she said. “But what about the good wine? Good cheese deserves good wine, yeah?”

“I’m sure we can manage that. I thought I spied Leliana and Zevran earlier with a couple bottles each, which means the wine cellar locks have probably already been picked.” He bent to remove the armor from his legs, tossing the pieces haphazardly on the floor. “Any other requests, my lady?”

She leaned back on one hand, an amused smile playing on her lips. “Some fruit would be nice. Are we eating it here?”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

She shook her head. “Nah. It’ll be like a date. Sort of.”

He straightened with a grin, all of his armor officially scattered about the room. “Exactly! Look at you, so smart. That’s why you’re in charge.”

“Alistair.” She patted his cheek, a bit like she would pat her mabari. “Wine. Cheese. Sometime before I fall asleep, please?”

He stood up instantly. “You got it. I’ll see what I can do.” He gave her a salute, the standard closed fist over his chest that Ferelden soldiers and Chantry templars tended to use. “One wine-and-cheese plate coming right up. Don’t go anywhere.”

She shook her head as he disappeared back out into the corridor, then flopped back onto the bed herself. It was a good, soft bed…

A half hour later, they were both in the bed, Sorina at the head propped up against a mountain of pillows, her legs curled comfortably in front of her, and Alistair stretched out at the foot, kicking one foot idly over the edge of the mattress. Between and beside them, Alistair had prepared a few plates of cheese, fruit, and bread. He had managed to snag a bottle of wine marked with a decent year, which was now half empty as it sat with Sorina’s topped-off wineglass on the nightstand. Alistair’s glass was safely on the floor, where he could easily reach it.

Sorina had to admit, this was…unexpectedly nice. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d just curled up in bed with some snacks and someone to talk to. Camp didn’t count. A conversation while sitting watch just wasn’t the same, and the food wasn’t nearly so good as what an Arl kept stocked for his family, even in the middle of a crisis. And with Alistair, everything was easy. The conversation, the relaxation, enjoying the food and the wine…for a moment, she could pretend that everything could be like this forever.

But Eamon’s remarks earlier still troubled her, and she couldn’t put a finger on why.

“You know,” Alistair said, “when I was a kid, this sort of thing was something I’d dream about.”

Sorina lifted an eyebrow. “Eating cheese in bed? Seriously?”

“What can I say, I’m a simple man,” he said, grinning. “But no, I meant…having a room to myself, for one. I slept in the stables mostly while I was growing up here. Getting to eat whenever I wanted, whatever I wanted, for another. Having someone to talk to at night, when I couldn’t sleep. That’s…that’s more of what I meant.”

Sorina said nothing. Despite the harsh training she had put herself through since youth, constantly striving to be better, stronger, tougher, to beat her older brother in combat and earn a place fighting at her father’s side, even if it was just to fight off bandits on their land, she couldn’t deny her childhood was idyllic compared to his. At the very least, she’d never spent a full night in a stable while growing up. She’d never had to question whether she’d eat that day.

Alistair shifted so that he was on his back, one arm bent and tucked beneath his head. “This is nice. Peaceful. Makes you think there isn’t a whole world of darkspawn out there waiting for us.” He picked up a crumble of cheese and held it up, examining it idly, though she could tell he wasn’t really looking at it. “It would be nice to have more nights like this, instead of…you know…”

“Sleeping on the cold, hard ground in the middle of nowhere?” Sorina offered.

“Yeah.” After another second of thought, he popped the crumble of cheese in his mouth and went back to staring at the ceiling, arms crossed behind his head, one foot gently swinging off the edge of the bed.

Sorina reached for her glass and took a slow sip of wine. She debated whether she should say anything related to this idea, but then decided, why not? It wasn’t like they’d make these decisions tomorrow.

She set the glass back on the nightstand. “You could have plenty of nights like this…if you were king.” He paused mid-chew and shot her a baffled look, but she just shrugged. “Eamon wants you to be king. It’s not a bad idea.”

“Uh, yeah, it kind of is,” he said. He swallowed his bite of cheese and sat up. “I’d be a terrible king, and we both know it.”

“You don’t know that, actually, and besides,” she pointed out, “you’d have complete access to the best bed ever and plenty of snacks for midnight picnics in bed. Who’s going to tell you no?”

That made him chuckle. “All right, fair point, but all the rest…” He shook his head. “And besides, this wouldn’t be nearly as fun with anyone else. You think I’d steal the good cheese for Leliana? Or Zevran?”

“Wouldn’t be stealing if you own it as king,” she said, popping a couple of grapes into her mouth.

“You are so missing the point here.” He set his plate, nearly empty now, on the floor beside his wine glass and scooted a bit closer to her. “It wouldn’t be the same if it were anyone other than you. You’re what makes all of this special, Sorina.”

She continued to pick nonchalantly at the food on her plate, carefully selecting her next bite. “Well, I’ll just have to find ways to visit your royal bedroom, then.”

He scoffed. “Visit? Like you’re just a guest? No way, if I’m king, then half of that castle is yours by default.”

“Oh, am I to be Queen of Ferelden, then?” She snorted. “Bit of a stretch.”

Her, a queen? Wearing all those dresses? She’d love to see how a royal crown would look on her shorn head. The court at Denerim would hate her, probably. And she wasn’t much fond of them, either.

But Alistair didn’t seem to share her view. He shrugged. “Sure, why not be queen? I’m sure you marrying me and taking over as queen would make everyone happy. The crown would look better on you anyway.”

She doubted it, but she couldn’t resist teasing, “Alistair, is that a proposal I hear? Are you hiding a ring in your pockets anywhere?”

He blanched. “Wha—no, of course not, that—that was a joke, I was joking, please don’t take that seriously. You can marry anyone in Thedas easily, you can do far better than me, I’m sure.”

She grinned and leaned her weight on one hand. “I don’t know…better than the king of Ferelden?”

He groaned. “I don’t actually want to be—all right, fine, I walked right into that one.” He crossed his legs and leaned in, leveling a dry look at her. “I’m serious, Sorina. You’re impressive and, frankly, intimidating enough to win the hand of any monarch in Thedas. No one is going to tell you no.” Then, suddenly, with a grin, he added, “In fact, you know, I hear Empress Celene is still single.”

She wrinkled her nose. “No. That—” she emphasized the word by pressing her foot into his shoulder and pushing him back, “is the kind of anti-Ferelden sentiment that gets you put on Loghain’s hit list, Alistair. An Orlesian, really?”

He rubbed his shoulder where her heel had dug in. “We were on Loghain’s hit list already. Or did you forget how we met Zevran?”

“Mm, true.” She tossed one last bite of bread and cheese into her mouth before setting her plate on the nightstand and dusting off her hands. As she chewed, she muttered, “…can’t believe you’d sell me off to Celene before marrying me yourself…”

He grimaced. “Whoa, hey, I never said—I was kidding!” He paused, studying her as she picked little nearly-invisible crumbs from her shirt and tossed them away. “Although…I dunno. Would you…want to…marry me? Not now, of course,” he rushed to add, putting up his hands. “In the future, maybe. Hypothetically. Assuming we survive everything and…you haven’t tired of me by the end of it all.”

She looked up, surprised. There was that sincerity again, rather than his usual humor and sarcasm. He looked like he’d be sick, waiting for her answer, his tentatively casual tone belying the tension in his shoulders.

She wished she had an answer for him. She’d spent the last couple of years dodging questions about her marriage entirely, from her parents, from Howe of all people, from others. It wasn’t something that interested her. She wanted to be a warrior, someone who stayed active, on the go, always where the action was. Not somebody’s stay-at-home wife.

But then again, the situation had changed. Marrying Alistair, assuming they both survived, would look very different than marrying any other noble boy. If he were king, she’d be queen—and frankly, that was terrifying—but if he wasn’t, and they were just Wardens…

“Hmm.” She gave it another few seconds of thought before allowing a tiny smile to pass over her lips. She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. “I dunno. Ask me again when this is all over.”

He stared at her. “Ask you…again.”

“Ask me again,” she repeated. It wasn’t a yes. And it wasn’t a no. He was smart. He’d figure it out.

It took him a second, but then a slow, hopeful grin lit up his features. Then he cleared his throat, clearly trying to rein it all in and stay focused. “Right. Noted. I won’t forget.”

“Good. Now…” She took hold of his shirt and pulled her to him, leaning back against the pillows and forcing him to shift so that he was no longer sitting in front of her, but hovering over her, his knees on either side of her body. She grinned up at him, enjoying the flush on his cheeks from their new, close proximity. “Tell me about these actual plans of yours…and I’ll see what I can do about them.”

He gave a slightly nervous chuckle and then cleared his throat again. “Well…I was hoping to have you as dessert, if that tells you anything.” He grinned, waiting for her to get it.

She paused. She got it, but…all that, the cheese, the wine, the midnight picnic idea…was a lead-up to a punchline? She sighed and shook her head, smirking, far too fond of her ridiculous Warden lover. He was, affectionately, an idiot, and she couldn’t help but love him.

She settled into the pillows, reaching for the hem of his shirt to take it off him. “It’s a start. Now tell me more.”

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

turns out im living in a horror film

pairing: ethan landry x gn!reader

WC: 2.4K

warnings: cursing, blood and stab mentions. should be it.

summary: im both the killer and the final girl

A/N: i think i like writing crazy reader🤔 anyway, once again inspired by a song, specifically the title line. dont think too hard about the killing, just enjoy the story.

any paragraphs written in bold and italic means thats what actually happened.

@alecmores​ my editor❤️

been in the drafts since may20

masterlist / ethan landry

🎧 always and forever and you first

the hospital was bustling with doctors and nurses, in groups talking or solo looking down at clipboards. families in the waiting room or cafeteria sitting at the small tables and eating the okay food. a few security guards posted at different entrances, your wary eyes watching them as you passed door after door until you came to the right one.

you couldn’t see anything due to the curtains wrapped around the bed. you did see a shadow moving about and then a nurse peeked out and her eyes widened just a bit when she spotted you. you froze, but forced a quick pull of your lips; even a weak wave which was just your hand going up and then down. her head disappeared behind the curtain and then she walked your way.

“are you here to see mr. landry?” sweet and simple. you nodded wordlessly, voice failing you. she stepped aside and cocked her head before walking away down the hall and a corner.

you clenched and unclenched your hands at your sides, palms slowly gaining moisture until you wiped them down your stained and ripped pants. feet moving on their own accord and you stopped at the foot of the hospital bed. a sigh of relief at the sight beholding you.

ethan laid on his back, dressed in the standard gown with his blanket pulled to his waist. an iv was poked into his hand with a gray device attached to his index finger, his hands resting over his stomach. his heart monitor was beating steady as you watched with every breath he took and how his chest rose and fell with ease. his eyes were closed, lashes fluttering over dark circles. his mouth slightly parted as he slept.

taking slow and quiet steps you rounded the frame and stood on his right side. fingers pressing lightly into the bed as you leaned closer to his resting face. his freckles that were spotted here or there stood a bit darker as his skin looked a bit paler. ethan’s head of unruly brown ringlets sat just a bit more deflated than the usual pillow of curls that you would run your fingers through. your eyes land on two bandages, one that sat high on his cheek and the other vertically on his bottom lip to his chin.

fingertips curled into the blue fabric as your blood got heated with rage. but your thoughts were cut short when you felt ethan shuffling and then heard the deep inhale telling you he was waking up. you took just a slight step back and softened your posture.

ethan rubbed a fist at his eye and when they opened again, his head moved against his pillow and faced you. a welcoming smile melted your insides as his honey-brown eyes pull you in. you gained that step back and reached for the hand close to you.

“hi.” that’s all you could say as your eyes watered. it seemed to please ethan. he flipped his hand and let his fingers curl with yours. “hi.” his voice cracked and you instantly searched for water. the hand with the iv took the offered cup and drained it with deep gulps.

you placed the cup on the nightstand and hesitantly moved your hand to touch ethan’s face. you saw how his eyes noticed and he led you the rest of the way until your palm was holding his uncut cheek and your thumb was rubbing his oily skin.

“how you feeling?” a stupid question, you know. but still, you had to ask.

ethan’s head tilted down and his lips turned into a frown, something you hate to see on his pretty face. “well, i’m still alive after being stabbed in the stomach. so… i would say physically okay, mentally terrified.” he closed his eyes and leaned further into your touch.

you licked your lips as your eyes kept a steady watch on ethan. “ethan…” he peeked an eye open at his name, “i have some… some bad news.” voice low and touch heavy.

ethan sat up and his head moved away causing you to drop it from the air and fall to his thigh. you needed a minute to formulate your words without sounding discombobulated or not making sense.

“what happened after the subway?” his heart monitor spiked. the green line shooting higher than it was a minute ago.

“well, me and mindy waited here until we got news on your stability. and then mindy got a text from chad about the plan. so she rushed out and said she was heading to help…”

“mindy, wait!”

you caught up to her quickly just outside the entrance. mindy stopped and turned around, her eyes narrowed as you got closer and then she put a hand up telling you to stop. you held your hands up in surrender and stopped just a few steps away.

“what are you doing?” her tone was accusing. “shouldn’t you be staying here? making sure ethan’s gonna live?”

“i… i can't just sit around while you and everyone else are at that theater waiting for ghostface.” you argued. “so i’m going so we have all hands on deck. six against, what, two ghostfaces? that’s easy.”

mindy regarded you for a moment and then she shrugged her shoulders, “okay, fine. let’s hurry.” and the two of you were rushing down the busy streets to the abandoned theater.

“we got to the theater and hurried up the elevator and that’s when we got a call from sam…”

you kept a steady pace with mindy seeing as both of you weren’t athletic. feet carried you down the hidden alleyway towards the front entrance. mindy was ahead of you and just as she was reaching for the handle-

“ah!” mindy screeched. her knees crumpled from underneath and she slammed into the door and slid down.

you yanked the knife from her back and plunged it into a different spot. out then in, out then in. you lost count of how many times the wet knife sunk into mindy's muscles. you only stopped once she stopped fighting and the yelling abruptly ended.

you wiped the signature blade clean on mindy’s jacket and walked through the door and into the elevator.

ethan’s heart rate was speeding up. “my love, calm down. please.” hands rushing to hold his face in your grasp, trying to provide a silver of comfort as you retell the horror you went through an hour ago. “why don’t i just wait until-“

“no. just- just get through it.” he insisted. you hesitate until he holds your wrist and nods his head.

you sigh, “when sam called us she told us to get out, that it was a trap. that kirby was ghostface.”

ethan’s brows furrowed, “why- why would she be- she got stabbed by her friend!” his eyes darted back and forth, trying to make sense of what you're telling him. trying to make the puzzle pieces fit.

“detective bailey said that kirby was fired over six months ago from the fbi. that she was showing major signs of ptsd and her anger would flare at times. she probably just…snapped.”

“y/n…this isn’t you! you’r- you’re not a killer!”

kirby struggled against your weight that kept her plastered to the floor. her gun kicked far away from sight as she kept your weapon-wielding hands away from her body. you didn’t want to stab her multiple times like mindy… maybe just once and then slice her throat.

“you don’t know anything about me, agent.” you hissed as you pushed down harder.

you pushed all your upper body strength into your arms and managed to inch the knife closer and closer to kirby’s waiting throat. you could almost see light bouncing off the silver…

“we stepped out of the elevator and kirby shot mindy in the head. and just before she could get to me, detective bailey appeared out of nowhere and shot her in the heart.”

ethan’s eyes watered instantaneously and his lips quivered. on instinct you crawled into the bed and pulled ethan’s head to your shoulder. he gripped your dirty shirt tight in his shaky hold as his salty tears dripped onto your skin.

“what- what- what about…the others?” he hiccuped.

you rolled your lips and looked to the ceiling. it was only going to get worse. you didn’t say anything as you dragged your fingers through his hair, which caused him to pull away. eyes starting to get red and puff, dried tear stains ruining his face.

“what… happened?” he restated sternly.

your hands fell to your lap and you looked down as you picked away at your skin and hangnails. flashes of blood on your hands cloud your vision but it’s gone in a blink. you cleared your throat.

“i… i think we were too late. i don’t know how, but… it was straight from a horror movie as me and bailey walked into the theater. i found chad… laying in a pool of his blood.”

it felt so exhilarating as you did the same tactic on chad as his twin. poetic or something shit, how they died the same way by the same knife and hand. his eyes screamed for mercy, but you didn’t care. the sound of blood and stabbing drowning your thoughts.

“then i heard a commotion somewhere so i went to make sure bailey was okay. I stumbled back into the main shrine area and saw sam wrestling with him…”

sam and bailey pushed and shoved each other into glass cases. bailey had more of the upper hand, but sam was holding her own. you hid in the shadows, crouching low and waiting for an opening to help your sudden accomplice.

“…sam managed to throw him to the ground and she had a knife ready to stab him. i didn’t think… i- i just ran at her and threw myself into her…”

both of you smacked into the bottom of a display, the breath knocked out of you for a minor two. sam pushed herself up and the look of disgust and disbelief that one of her friends-

“you’r- you’re helping him? you’re a ghostface?” she heaved as she stood up. you kept a close eye on her.

“not exactly… but that doesn’t matter. i’m only a ghostface in this case.”

with your guard down just a bit, she ran at you-

“- sam stabbed me in the thigh and then the shoulder.”

sam got a deep stab into your right thigh and swiftly pulled it out and sunk the blade into your shoulder near your collarbone. you screamed bloody murder from the pain and anger she flared up in you.

“i- i don’t know. it’s like she had a personality switch or something. maybe her dad’s genes kicked in and she and kirby planned this sick show. sam doing the first few and then when kirby came down they switched off. at least that’s the theory the police have come up with.”

ethan’s fingers ran over the wound on your thigh, that frown back on his face. once again you reached for his hand and waffled them together. you kissed the back of his hand then his knuckles and lastly each fingertip.

“is tara at least…” you heard the hesitancy as he asked about his friend. wondering if her sister would be sick enough to kill her off after showing such a protective front around others.

teeth sunk into your bottom lips as you shook your head. “her, uh, her throat was slashed. but no- no other wounds.”

“y/n, y/n. why- why are you doing this?”

tara was trying to plead with you or at least understand your reasoning for killing your friends. you took slow and menacing steps as you backed her further into a dark corner. twisting the knife handle like a toy as you just smirked at her.

“why does everyone think killers need a reason? well, in detective bailey’s case, he does have a reason. richie, his son, was killed at the hands of sam.”

tara’s face slackened further.

“now… i won’t reveal who was his main partner in crime. a promise i made so he would leave me and ethan be after-“

“you- you think ethan’s gonna wanna be with you? even when he finds out everything you did?”

your steps stopped as you kept a sharp eye on her, knife held high and steady. she didn’t understand the love the two of you share. and beside-

“ethan isn’t gonna know a thing. wanna know why?” your lips pulled into a sinister cheshire grin as your steps resumed. tara was pressed into the corner with no weapon to defend herself and no space to make a run for it. she was all yours.

you held the knife up under her chin, tip against her throat as she swallowed saliva. you leaned in closer, mouth near her ear, “ethan’s never gonna know about this, because you’ll all be dead.” you swiped the knife hard and fast against her throat.

“so… only you and bailey survived?” ethan’s voice was getting thick from emotion.

you hoped your story was convincing enough. maybe you’ll have bailey vouch for you if needed. maybe ethan’s mind won’t think too hard about everything with it clouded by grief and drugs pumping in his veins.

“i don’t think i would be if he didn’t show up. ethan-“ you held his cheeks once again, making sure his eyes looked deep within yours. “i was… so scared that i would never see you again.” tears came to the front without thought and you saw the way he melted.

ethan’s hands caressed your cheeks and wiped the fallen droplets away with ease. “i think you have a guardian angel watching you or something. whatever it was, i’m so relieved that you're back in my arms.”

and his lips met yours once again after hours of missing the feeling. it was like you claimed your first breath of clean air after only consuming pollution smog. and it felt like another reminder.

you pulled away, reluctantly, from ethan and leaned your forehead into his. fingers working to keep a smile and brightness to his face and eyes.

“you and me, ethan. always and forever. we’ll always be there for each other. and i’ll always protect you no matter what. you’re all that matters to me.”

you closed your eyes at the end of your declaration so you missed the slight crease in his eyes and how they took in every inch of skin. and how they spotted specks of dark red blood, but instead of causing his heart to spike he just closed his eyes as well and leaned in for another kiss.

always and forever

-

tags: @astrxq