#opposite set of people get snapped fic

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

are you still working on A Group Of Remarkable People?? just asking cause i really really love the character dynamics you were setting up in that one lol

i am!!! in fact here's a little snippet of what i'm working on since i know it's been ages:

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“Do you remember,” Loki finally says, eyes down on his folded hands, “what I told you about your magic when we first got started? Where it comes from?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her frowning at him. “The Infinity Stones,” she says. “The Mind Stone.”

“That’s where it came from,” Loki says, turning a bit to properly look at her. “Where does it come from now?”

He sees when it dawns on her what he’s really asking, and she nods, tapping herself in the sternum.

Loki nods, too. “Your magic is deeply rooted in emotion,” he tells her for what certainly isn’t the first time. “That makes it powerful. It can make it quite dangerous, as well, without proper control. I know you know that already, but as the person who’s been instructing you these past few weeks, it seems it would be irresponsible of me not to remind you anyway, before we embark on a mission as important as this one.”

“I can control it,” she reminds him.

“So you’ve shown me,” Loki says, offering a half-smile that she… sort of returns. It doesn’t reach her eyes. His probably doesn’t reach his eyes either, but nonetheless that feeling tugs at him again, and a voice prods at the back of his mind, a voice that isn’t his own—Thor’s, maybe—yelling at him to do something, Loki, say something.

For God’s sake, at least tell her to be careful.

It’s not that he thinks she’s careless, but… well, no, actually, a part of him does truly believe she is, or at least that she can be, and is primed to be, given everything she’s lost—and all that will very likely remain lost, this whole mission be damned. It’s all too easy to imagine that she’ll toss her life away at the slightest provocation. It’s all too easy to look at her now and see a bit of himself, a not so long ago version of himself that Wilson, Barnes, and Hope Van Dyne are destined to meet by the day’s end.

He clears his throat.

When his voice finally decides to come to him, it says, “We’ll be resuming our training when this is all over. Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’ve helped save the universe.”

It’s not what he means to say.

It does finally provoke the smallest of real smiles from her, though, so it’ll have to do. In her native tongue, she says, “Don’t expect me to go easy on you, either.”

[vettelsvee]

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 1: I'LL SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

rb sebastian vettel x gf!reader

word count: 4095

summary: seb's gf finds out she's pregnant, and she decides that hiding her pregnancy is the best she could do due to seb's career

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of cheating, curse words, angst, fighting. set on may 2013. for a bit of background: reader and seb have been friends since they were literal babies, but growing up their feelings changed and started dating on 2006.

a/n: this is actually the first chapter of the very first series, Infinity, i posted here! i had to cancel it because i had some problems with wattpad people telling me through indirects i copied their work and i got very, very unmotivated with this story i absolutely love (when actually this was a draft I had of a tom holland fic back in 2017 lol), but i'd love to post the following parts if you like this one! feedback is appreciated, as well as reblogs <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

You pulled the flush and got up, being careful not to get dizzy. You took some paper and wiped the corners of your mouth to remove any possible traces of vomit. You headed to the sink automatically, quickly pulling out the toothbrush you’ve gotten used to carrying since nausea became part of your daily routine. You really tried to get rid of the acidity in your throat and the bad taste in your mouth, but as you expected, and knowing you've been experiencing this more times than you'd like in the past month and a half, it was impossible.

"Y/N, are you still there? Are you okay?" Britta's voice, accompanied by a few knocks on the door, snapped you out of your trance. You startled and forced yourself to answer, even though it was the last thing you feel like doing.

"Yes, I’m coming. Just a sec!"

"Don’t take too long," she replied. "Not that I don’t want you to take your time, but Seb is worried."

Panic-stricken, you suppressed a laugh that almost escaped.

If only he knew what you were about to do…

"Don’t worry, I’ll be right out," you answered.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating your own reflection longer than you’d like. Minutes passed, and you almost completely lost track of time, aware that you needed to put an end to the intrusive thought that was telling you that what you were about to do was, wrong but inevitably the best thing.

You were going to break away from everything you’ve wanted since you were a child just because things hadn't turned out "right." Seb was at the peak of his professional career, constantly surpassing himself in every race, making history, while you remained stuck in your hometown, working at a bar, dealing with drunks and immature kids pretending to be adults daily, because you didn’t have the luck, or perhaps the financial means, to study what you had dreamed of since you were a child who just wanted to make music.

You leaned on the sink, feeling the cold starting to penetrate your body. A great tremor shook you, and it became increasingly difficult to stay on your feet. Your eyes filled with tears as you confronted the reality of what you were about to do, of the decision you'd made.

Since your boyfriend began not only achieving his dreams but making a name for himself, you thought you didn’t deserve him because you were heading in the opposite direction. Now that you’ve gotten pregnant by him, possibly because the birth control pills you were taking failed for some unknown reason, you felt like this even more.

Despite the love you still felt and possibly always will feel for Sebastian, since you took the pregnancy test with Hanna at one of the most secluded malls in Heppenheim, you knew that letting him know he was going to be a father was never part of your plans.

"Come on, Y/N…" you told yourself, still staring at your reflection. "This is for Seb. You're doing this for him and his career."

You took a deep breath a couple more times, feeling the knot in your throat choking you. You looked at the girl full of insecurities you were one more time. Her eyes reflected doubt and, above all, fear, and you sadly sensed that it will continue to be this way from now on.

Trying to control yourself, you slowly opened the bathroom door, as if wanting to torture yourself. Britta was sitting in one of the chairs, reviewing something in a notebook until you closed the door a bit harder than you meant to.

"Are you really okay?" she asked again, giving you an uncertain look. "I've been hearing you vomit for several weeks now. Don’t you think you should go to the doctor?"

The knot in your throat seemed to tighten even more. See a doctor… Of course you’d been to the doctor! Four weeks and, as of today, four days pregnant was the answer, but no one beyond your parents and your best friend could know.

"Yes, I’m fine," you replied quickly, trying to fake your answer as best as you could. "Don’t worry. It’s probably just a bit of stress," you added, praying she believed you. "I haven't had time to see a doctor, but I assure you, with all my heart, that everything is fine."

And that's why you're leaving the love of your life today.

Britta seemed to hesitate for a moment. Her lips remained slightly open, as if she wanted to say something. Her look gave you the feeling that she didn't quite believe what you were saying.

"Whatever you say, Y/N," she finally said, standing up from her seat. "But seriously, if you need to talk or anything, I’m here for you."

"I know."

"Well, seeing that you're as calm as a lake, we’d better hurry up," she told you. "The last free practice session is about to start, and Seb is probably worried why we haven’t come back yet."

You prepared to leave the room with her. You were more than sure to go with her, but as you were almost out the room, you realize it was now or never.

You stopped before going from the driver’s room to the garage, watching Britta hurry down the stairs, probably aware that you were running late even though there were still about forty-five minutes before the session started.

"Wait, Britta. Just a sec!"

You were convinced your shout from the top of the stairs was heard by more people than you’d like. You wished you could turn invisible as you saw some eyes on you, including Britta’s, which made it hard to speak, and not to mention the variety of emotions you were feeling inside you.

You needed to calm down and act a bit better, or everything you’d been mulling over will end up falling apart.

"I’d like to talk to Seb… alone," you finally said.

"Y/N Y/L/N," she said your name much more seriously now. "You’ve told me that everything is fine, but… are you sure it really is? Are you sure nothing’s wrong?"

No, everything is wrong, and yes, more things are happening than I’d like.

You knew you could trust Britta completely. You were sure that if you told her the news before you did to Seb, she wouldn’t say anything, at least not right away. You wanted to do it; in fact, you’d love to do it because she was like a second mother to you, but you knew you couldn't because, once you left, there’s a really high chance she might end up telling him everything in a moment of weakness.

"Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s nothing serious, don’t worry," you replied with a sigh, trying to console the PR woman and yourself. "I just need to talk to him about… well, a minor issue."

"Of course. Go get him, I’ll wait here. He’s probably talking to Rocky or Horner about who knows what. He hasn’t gone far, especially considering how eager he was to see you."

"Can you get him for me?" you let it out casually.

You ignored her last comment because now, your nerves were eating you alive. Britta seemed to notice your anxiety, so you were grateful she ignored it and acted as if nothing is wrong.

You sighed in relief when you saw her nod, and you couldn't stop thanking her out loud for what she just did for you.

"Lie down on the physio’s couch and try to rest a bit, you look a bit pale," she insisted. Reluctantly, and after repeating it a couple more times, you finally listened to her. "Seb will be here soon. You know he’ll drop everything when it comes to you."

And it was true. Once she left, you remained lying down, drawing small shapes on your stomach with your index finger. As you whispered things to what would supposedly be your child, a whirlwind of varied thoughts flooded your mind.

A small pressure settled in your chest as you became aware that the idea of breaking up with Sebastian was becoming a reality. You didn't want to face it and largely refused to, but you knew that for both of you, especially him, it was actually the best.

Hiding the truth from the guy you’d loved longer than you’d like to admit is exactly the opposite of what you should do, but because he was the most important person in your life, and you knew him almost as well as yourself, you knew he'd have time to play moms and dads in real life.

This year, the only thing he should focus on was winning his fourth Formula 1 World Championship, not learning how to change diapers or feed a baby.

Your thoughts vanished when the door opened abruptly, startling you. Seb appeared with his suit hanging at his waist, hair completely tousled, and a face revealing worry matching the situation you haven’t told him about yet.

"Sunshine! Britta told me you’re not well. What happened? Do you want to go to the doctor? I don’t care about missing the free practice: you’re the most important thing."

The German quickly took your cheeks in his hands. You hadn’t even sat up, and he was already trying to warm your face with his palms, moving it from side to side and examining you as if he was a doctor with the solution to your problems.

"I’m fine, love, relax," you said, breaking free from his grip.

"I know you better than I’d like, Y/N. You’re pale," he pointed out. "You rarely get pale. The last time I saw you like this was when the police chased us after they caught you doing an illegal concert in the school square."

Your anxiety grew more at his perception. You couldn't hide the lie you concocted with Hanna for much longer.

"Seb, really, I’m fine," you insisted, swallowing hard as you tried to find the right words.

He didn't seem to agree with your answer once again, and he didn't seem willing to let it go easily.

For a moment, you were tempted to tell him the truth, especially when you noticed his eyes fixed on you, not intending to look away until he found out what you really wanted to say… As if he wants to know that he was going to be a father next January if your gynecologist’s calculations and the latest technology were correct.

You mustered the courage to look him in the eyes. His concern overwhelmed you completely. When he made a move to hug you and you fell into his arms, you knew you couldn't keep dodging the truth.

"Seb…" you started to say, slowly pulling away from him, "the truth is that... well, there's something wrong."

He clenched his jaw and got very serious.

"Tell me, Y/N. Whatever it is, you know you can tell me."

"I know, love. I want to tell you everything, but…" you began calmly, your voice breaking. "This is different, and it’s going to be a bit difficult."

"What do you mean by different and difficult? Y/N, what’s going on?"

Your hands fidgeted nervously as you tried to find the best way to cause him the least harm possible. You noticed that the German's nervous and worried tone had dissipated, and now it was anger that seemed to be consuming him.

"I want to tell you, but I don’t know how to do it without hurting you," you admitted in a whisper.

There it was, you had let it slip.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you decided to wait for Sebastian’s response. Anguish had taken hold of him, and you knew he was waiting for your words as much as you were waiting for his.

His behavior wasn’t helping you; on the contrary, the feeling of guilt was consuming you, as you had foreseen, but there was no turning back now.

It was impossible for you to even think coherently enough to say something that made sense.

You watched as your boyfriend’s gaze turned into pure pain, a pleading search for answers that you didn’t dare to give him.

"Seb…" you spoke again, struggling to maintain your composure and reaching for his hand at the same time. "I need you to listen to me, please."

"I just want you to tell me the truth, Y/N," he called you by your full name. That was the indicator that things weren’t going well and wouldn’t be again. "Whatever it is, I’ll be able to deal with it."

"I don’t want us to be together anymore," you declared. "I’m not in love with you anymore. I haven’t been for about a month or so."

The silence that flooded the room after your false confession was too uncomfortable. His eyes filled with tears; yours did too, but for a different reason than his.

He thought you had stopped loving him when, in fact, you loved him more than ever, especially now.

"Why are you telling me this? Why, Y/N?" he wanted to know. "I thought we were great… I really believed we were better than ever."

"I don’t know, Seb," you murmured between sobs, trying to hide your face so he wouldn’t see how truly affected you were. "There are… there are couples that stop loving each other, and that’s what I think has happened with me. With us."

"What can I do to make you fall in love with me again? I can’t lose you. I can’t lose the sunshine of my life, not when we promised each other a life together."

"You can’t do anything, Seb, and I’m really sorry," you falsely admitted with sadness, trying not to succumb to his desperate plea.

"Sometimes things stop being what they were in the beginning, and, well… ours is no longer what it used to be."

"Of course, it’s not what it used to be! Everything was getting better until you decided to drop this on me, Y/N!" Sebastian yelled at you.

"I was even going to ask you if you wanted us to get…"

"And that’s why I feel it’s better if we move on, but each on our own path!" you interrupted with another shout.

It’s not real, Y/N. Everything you’re saying is a lie.

You inhaled and exhaled more times than you would have liked, but it felt necessary. This charade to try to make Seb’s life a little better was not only costing you your relationship but also your mental health in the long run.

"Is there someone else, Y/N?"

Vettel's voice denoted anger. Rage consumed him at the possibility that there was an answer he didn’t want to hear. His fists, clenched tightly and turning his knuckles white, were proof of it.

"No, not exactly."

And once again, the camouflaged truth.

"What are you saying?" he spat at you, getting closer and closer, consumed by anguish.

"I mean not exactly, but… yes. There is someone else, Seb," you admitted.

The shouts, full of reproaches, insults, and slurs, flooded the room.

You tried to turn a deaf ear. You thought this was all part of a performance and tried to convince yourself that in the future, everything would be fine when you knew it would be the opposite.

"How could you do this to me, Y/N?! How could you cheat on me after almost seven fucking years together?!" Sebastian shouted, taking out his anger on a vase on his desk, throwing it to the ground, spilling the water and the flowers he had given you just a day ago.

"We’ve been through so many things together. We’ve grown up together and fulfilled our dreams together, and now you’re leaving me for some guy you must have slept with on a whim?!"

"Do you think this is easy for me, Sebastian?" you replied, your words true for once. "Stop lying, okay? The only person who has fulfilled their dreams here is you," you said, showing your disagreement on that topic that you knew hurt you and that he had mentioned to hurt you. "While you’ve been living your life as a driver and being the center of attention, I’ve kept working in the same disgusting bar full of creepy old men I’ve been working at since I finished high school," you shouted, furious. You knew this kind of stress wasn’t good for the baby, but right now you didn’t care. "I’ve been saving as much as I could to build a prosperous future even though my salary was a pittance, composing songs and singing them with the hope that they’ll reach someone someday and not be forgotten."

"I’ve told you a million times that you don’t need to work in that fucking bar full of drunk old men who fuck you with their eyes to have a good life," he protested, now much calmer. "With what they pay me we can live comfortably. It's more than enough for both of us."

"I know," you responded calmly, though you were on the verge of an anxiety attack, "but I also know that I can achieve things on my own without anyone’s help."

The blonde let out an ironic laugh. Immediately, he crossed his arms, lifted his head, and looked at you.

"You’ve always been too stubborn, Y/N. Now I see what your future expectations are. After all, I understand: if you never got into the Berlin Art Academy on your own, and you’re still working at the same place after so long…"

You stood still, not knowing what to say or do because you knew exactly what he meant with every word that came out of his mouth. It felt like your feet were cemented to the ground; his words continuously hitting you, wanting to hurt you more and more.

"How dare you to say that to me?"

If you were already shaken and almost broken after this whole conversation, now you were completely sunk. Seeing your reaction, tears streaming down your cheeks non-stop, he seemed to regret it.

Quickly, he approached you, opening his arms intending for you to bury yourself in them. You, as stubborn as he said you were, refused not only the hug but any physical and non-physical contact he wanted to have with you.

"Y/N, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to say that," yes, that was clear, but it had already been said, and the damage was done. "I was wrong. Please forgive me."

No matter how much he kept talking, trying to apologize and make amends, there was nothing else to do.

Without saying anything else, you began to gather all your belongings from the driver’s room of who could now be considered your ex-boyfriend. You didn’t want to do it; you didn’t want to start the zero-contact phase with the boy you had loved since you were ten years old, the one who had loved you like no one ever had before and like no one ever would.

You were saying goodbye to the father of your child to venture into raising her alone so he could pursue his dream in peace and achieve all the successes he so longed for.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

“Packing. I’m leaving.”

Your eyes were fixed on the floor, your hands fumbling with the few belongings left to pack in the small backpack you usually took to the paddock. Now, you would have to return to your hotel room and quickly pack everything into the suitcase, rush to the airport, and pray you didn’t miss the flight.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” the blonde frowned, incredulous. “It’s Friday, Y/N, we have the whole weekend ahead of us.”

“Well, from now on, you’ll have all the weekends to yourself,” you shook your head, unable to bear his comments trying to make you stay. “From now on, you won’t have me here on weekends, nor in your life. I’m leaving your life, and I’m not coming back,” you repeated, emphasizing the finality of your words.

Vettel was speechless at your declaration. He kept shaking his head, approaching you, trying to take your belongings, but you stopped him.

No matter how much you wanted to, you weren’t going to stay.

“What do you mean by ‘leaving my life and not coming back’?”

“It means I’m going back to Heppenheim, Sebastian,” you turned to him, trying to maintain composure. “I’m going back, you’ll also end up going back even though we live… you live in Switzerland,” you immediately corrected yourself, “but I hope we never see each other again.”

The firmness behind your words scared you. Everything was a lie that, as the conversation progressed, had grown until you doubted what was real and what wasn’t.

“I really hope you achieve everything you are working hard for,” you continued, insisting to yourself not to break down right there. “I hope you win the championship this year and get the four consecutive ones you’ve wanted for. You, more than anyone, deserve all of it, and I know you’re capable of that and much more.”

You said nothing more because you had stopped being strong. You left, without looking back, the room where you had spent much more time than imaginable, and one of the many places that made up the story starring Sebastian Vettel and you.

You carefully descended the stairs. You walked with a false sense of security through the RedBull garage, dodging any questions about why you were crying, where you were going, and if you had argued with the team’s golden boy, including the endless questions from Britta Roeske that you were trying to ignore at all costs.

You felt curious eyes following you wherever you went, but you didn’t care in the slightest. It was all done.

Now, it was just you and the little pea, or whatever size the baby was.

“Y/N, wait!”

Sebastian’s desperate shouts echoed behind you, getting closer.

You stopped dead, clutching the only strap of the backpack hanging over your shoulder. You slowly turned toward the direction the voices seemed to be coming from and saw the driver running to you, almost choking, as he wiped tears from his cheeks and even those still falling from his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His voice was choked, and his hands acted on their own. Still, it didn’t stop him from taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss that unleashed a whirlwind of emotions, where you tasted each other’s tears as you had done many times in your relationship. Where you silently said millions of I love yous that only you and he knew perfectly.

“Please, don’t go, sunshine,” the German expressed. “Whatever it is, we can work on it, but please, don’t let us end.”

“I love you too, Seb, but there’s someone else.”

You finally confessed… not in the most ideal way, but in the right one, especially considering what your goal was after all this trail of lies.

“There’s a new person in my life, and I’m afraid to say that no matter how much I love you, I love them more than I love you, and I always will,” you continued, knowing that every word you were saying about your baby was true. “I love you, Sebastian Vettel, and I’ll never stop loving you, but that person is my main priority right now.”

“Have you been unfaithful?”

Sometimes silence is worth more than a thousand words. In this case, it was the exact opposite.

You stood in front of him for a few seconds, debating internally whether to answer or leave as calmly as possible, without attracting more attention than you already had. You decided on the latter because you couldn’t speak, and the tears wouldn’t let you see clearly; not to mention your judgment was so clouded that you couldn’t think clearly about the next step to end this nightmare.

You finally directed one last look at Seb; whispered that you loved him and always would, even though it was over between you.

All it took was for you to lower your head, turn around, and continue walking, fighting not to look back, to realize that you had made the biggest mistake of your life and would never, for anything in the world, be able to forgive yourself.

And you knew perfectly well that Seb wouldn’t either.

[lottiies]

SHARED MY BODY AND MY MIND WITH YOU

→ Leon broke up with you because of his emotional baggage, not wanting to drag you down into his trauma-induced misery. He didn’t usually date out of his line of work anyway, he hated himself for involving himself with someone so innocent. But when he gets a voicemail at an awfully late hour and listens to it, he nearly broke driving laws to get to your place. He still loves you, that much is certain. Your body and mind are like a second nature to him

CW: MDNI, fem!reader, pwp, one sided breakup, angst, description of leon’s self guilt and sabotage, heavy mentions of marriage, centered around Leon rather than the reader, reconciliation, lovemaking–gentle sex, crying, very small religious snippet, he eats you out, unprotected p in v, implied aftercare + implication of a better future

WC: 5.3k

Note: i think…this is my favorite fic that i’ve ever written. breaking my pink blog theme with this and actually capitalizing letters um…i had to set the tone okay. i actually started working on this in january to cope with some things, but i didn’t make much progress until recently!! the title’s a lyric from the song ‘cruel world’

BOT VERSION HERE MASTERLIST

Leon has a rule: never get emotionally involved with anyone who isn’t in his line of work. The reason behind that is self-explanatory. It's too difficult to accomplish. All his baggage holds him down, and he’s always away for long periods at a time and then returns back with body aches all over and has to hibernate for a while. What does he truly have to offer?

He did it anyway.

You managed to romance him, granting him a fleeting glimpse of happiness and a chance at self-love. Lingering caresses, meaningful eye contact, soulful conversations, an audience to his jokes, the key to your heart — you gave him everything.

Breaking up with you was painful, the second it was all said and done and you were out of his sight, he broke down crying. That was what he deserved, that’s what his mind told him.

It was easy for Leon to disappear from your life, just as quick as the snap of his fingers. He was never around that much to begin with. Your efforts in reaching out to him were futile if he was halfway across the world dealing with another abrupt assignment, or if he fell back into the habit of nursing a drink in some run down bar without contacting a soul.

But no amount of alcohol could make him forget about you these days. The memories of you were too strong to be diluted.

“What about this one?” Curiosity had dripped from your question, your fingers gently feathered across the healed up scar on his left shoulder.

Leon was almost an open book when it came to you, he truly cherished honesty in any relationship, whether romantic or platonic. Guilt weighed on him for having to limit certain answers to only the surface details. It felt wrong; it felt like he was keeping secrets from you and keeping you in the dark. But it couldn’t be helped, not when you weren’t in the same line of work as him. Most of the contents of his work were confidential.

After all, at this point the two of you had only been dating for half a year. How could he burden your mind with the harsh realities of everything that wasn’t known by the general public?

The two of you were naked, tangled under the sheets. No sex or anything, simply getting familiar with each other’s bodies and exploring with gentle and cautious hands.

“1998, shot on duty.”

The memories were still fresh in his mind. People say that forgetting a traumatic event is common, people dissociate to cope and shield their brain. It was the opposite for Leon. All the screams plagued his mind like a damn mantra, no way in hell would he ever be able to forget anyone’s voice.

Either that, or his mind made up fantasies about what could’ve been between you both. Domestic bliss. Buying a house together. Shy talks about how many kids you guys wanted. The memories haunted him. He wanted it back.

He even bought a ring. A beautiful one that he was meant to display to you when he sunk onto one knee and popped the question that would hopefully bind the two of you for life. The one that he was supposed to fidget with whenever he held your hand as the two of you planned your wedding, whether it be simple, grand, or to elope.

He kept it safe even after he broke up with you, he couldn’t bear to throw it away because of the sliver of hope that maybe one day he’d still get the chance of putting it on your finger. He felt like a fool. Sometimes he opened the box up to reminisce. It tugged at his heartstrings when he saw how rough his own fingers were in comparison to the smooth metal, from his years of physical exhaustion and training. God, he wished your hands would never get all battered like his.

He thought about you so much that you were the star actress in his nightly dreams.

The worst ones were the nightmares, though. Like the one that had him turning in his sleep tonight.

It all replayed in his mind. Your facial expression when he broke up with you out of the blue — the way the smile on your face had faded into a frown, your glimmering eyes contorting into that of disheartened ones. The way you looked at him with such a concoction of emotions. The pitiful chuckle that escaped your lips along with a nervously spoken ‘what?’ Or maybe it was the prolonged silence afterwards that killed him. It felt like hours until he got a proper response from you, one that was drowned out by the drumming of his own heart and the pulse that formed in his ears.

Usually he got to the end of it, but tonight he was abruptly woken up by the sound of his phone ringing. A blessing in disguise, maybe. Regardless, he was a bit irritated, he had always been such a light sleeper.

“You’re kidding…” Leon let out a heavy sigh, trying to rub the sleep away from his eyes. He didn’t even want to answer, too tired to even think about the possibility of being called to the field. No way in hell did he want to be met with Hunnigan’s voice and some intel he didn’t feel like remembering.

He let the phone ring, and eventually, blissful silence filled the room again. If it was dire, he knew he’d get another call soon.

Instead, he heard his phone vibrate not long after. He muttered out a curse before reaching for his phone, seeing that a voicemail was left. He didn’t bother reading whose number it was. Christ, the message was 5:06 minutes long.

Whatever. He played it aloud, resting his forearm over his face as he listened in.

“Hey Leon, it’s me…”

Fuck.

He fully sat up on his bed, so quickly it could’ve given him whiplash.

“I miss you. Still think about you every day. I don’t know what I did wrong…you probably aren’t even listening to this. I just…I don’t know.” a sigh. “The clock hit 12 and um, well today’s the anniversary of the day you asked me out. Maybe you don’t remember. I think you do though, you were always good with dates.”

Leon knew the voice of a broken person when he heard it.

No. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to let you go and then you’d see how much life had to offer, how any other person could give you a better and more stable relationship.

How could you be hung up on a man like him?

It was instinctual. He shuffled out of bed, body reacting before his mind and reaching for a clean pair of clothes from his closet. He left the voicemail playing in the background, it filled his lonely house. His heart was racing so loudly he couldn’t even hear the sounds of the wind outside or the creak of the floor with every step. All he did was change and brush his teeth before he drove over to you.

Thankfully, the roads were empty and the highway was free of traffic or else surely he would’ve been pulled over.

Thinking rationally wasn’t necessary when it came to you, not when he just got punched in the gut with a load of nostalgia and gut wrenching heartbreak.

He has always been yours, even during the separation. His heart hammered within his ribcage when he pulled into your driveway, his body moving in a hurry out of his car and towards your door. No hesitation.

Knock, knock, knock.

Ten seconds felt like ten minutes, but eventually the door swung open.

Your pretty face filled the focus of his pupils, his expression softening. You looked like a deer in the headlights, gazing up at him with wide eyes.

Oh, my sweet girl. There she is.

His hands itched to reach for you, to hold you in his arms and spin you around, nuzzling his nose against yours like old times — like some romantic drama. He hadn’t watched one in a while, they reminded him too much of you. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

Leon's hair was messy. It was a sight you had seen many times: his bed hair. Those emotion carrying eyes of his were contrasted with the lifeless bags under them. He came over so damn quickly he hadn’t even taken the time to make himself look composed.

“Leon? What are you…” You couldn’t even finish your thoughts. You felt nothing yet so much at the same time, perhaps from the shock of it all. You brought two fingers to the pulse on your neck to make sure you were awake, and hadn’t somehow fallen asleep after your call and voicemail to him. The thundering pace of your pulse confirmed that you weren’t off in dream land.

“I got your voicemail,” He responded, sounding remorseful. “Had to make sure you were alright. Uh…can I come in?”

You continued staring at him like if he was some sort of supernatural being. If you reached your hand out to touch him, would he disappear? Or perhaps your limb would go straight through him as if he was transparent.

You snapped out of it and nodded. “Yeah, come on in.” Hesitation clouded your tone, not out of wariness but because you had no clue what the hell was going on. You hadn’t seen him in over a year, at least not in person, only through photos and videos you still had saved on your phone from when the two of you were dating (going through them was part of your nightly routine.)

“To be honest…I wasn’t expecting you to even hear my message.”

You stood there awkwardly as he entered, closing the door afterwards. Your apartment still smelled the same, a wave of comfort washed over him despite the circumstances, his eyes darting around at all your belongings. This was once his safe space, like his secret haven.

You sat on your couch, waving him over. Your legs felt like jelly, no way could you be standing for this. He followed, sitting on the couch cushion on the opposite side from you.

“My ringtone woke me up. I thought you were a coworker of mine at first but…I’m glad you weren’t.”

“Glad, really?”

“Yeah.” He gave no further context, at least for that minute.

Silence hung in the air, time became still. Either way, the shared glance between the two of you broke the tension, you were both thinking the same thing. Your minds were linked, seeking reconciliation, every circuit of neurons buzzing with your shared proximity.

He rested his elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit. Everything felt surreal, you couldn’t take your eyes off him, afraid he’d disappear.

“I’m…I’m sorry about the way I ended things.” There was a crack in his voice, he was so desperately clinging onto the ideology that he shouldn’t wear all his heart on his sleeve. He failed every time though, his words had wavered.

“I know.” You truly did.

“How?”

“Because I know you, Leon. It hurt, and I found myself wondering why you would just up and leave after what felt like such a meaningful time. But I didn't ever think you did it with mal intent.”

You should be demanding answers, hell, he could even take a few slaps to the face. Maybe his guilt ridden self preferred that to your sweet treatment. Did he even deserve to be met with your understanding? This self-pitying mindset he harbored is what had led to this in the first place.

“You’re right. I didn’t mean to hurt you, that’s the last thing I wanted to do.” Were his efforts in explaining himself getting across? “I thought it was better this way. I'm…broken.”

Trying to convince him that he isn’t ‘broken’ was futile, all you could do was beautify it instead. You scooted closer to him, clasping one of his hands between yours. “All you see are your faults, but I was seeing you entirely, not just for what you do in your job or the images that keep you up at night.”

His hands felt the same. Calloused in areas he couldn’t help like his knuckles and his palms, but well-kept in the nail department. He looked down at the physical contact, putting his other hand atop yours, his thumb grazing tenderly at your skin. Familiar territory.

“It’s hard not to.” He admitted, his eyes feeling glossy all of a sudden. “My job is my life, it drags into every other part of my life.”

“How did it drag into our relationship?”

He truly didn’t know how to answer that. The times he shared with you were the best experiences of his life. He finally got the chance to pull out his cardboard box full of romantic movies to watch with the lover he had been waiting for his whole life, you. Countless nights spent cooking together in your kitchen, full of laughter and playful bickering, and some harmless food fights. Grocery shopping together with laced fingers, just a sneak peek into domesticity. God, he yearned for its return.

“I don’t know. I constantly had to leave and got no vacation time either. Let’s see…I had to keep a lot of information confidential. It kinda screams ‘this’ll all make a girl run the other way.’”

How wrong he was, he ended up leaving before he could get abandoned, as if that would’ve happened, though, you never wanted him out of your life.

“That wasn’t true for me, Leon. I wanted to be with you. I just hope I wasn’t a burden on you.”

That hurt. A dull ache spread across his chest. He pulled you close, tucking you against his side.

“Don’t say that,” His instruction was soft spoken, his lips brushed against your cheek. You were never a burden, he always shut you out, thinking that his heart was full of thorns and you’d prick yourself if he let you get too close. That, perhaps his sorrow was contagious and his poison would flood your veins.

Words of comfort weren’t his strong suit, but he tried his best. He had to. “You weren’t a burden. Never were, and never will be, okay?”

It felt so good to have you against him, his gaze was set on you, searching for any indicator that you were uncomfortable. You leaned your shoulder against his shoulder though, nuzzling against him. Pensive silence followed.

Even with the somber undertones filling your apartment, your heart was bursting. He was here, back with you. Holding you like he used to do after you had a particularly stressful day at work, or when you had an argument with one of your close ones.

The long separation made familiar carnal desires spark to life, along with the itch to bring them to fruition.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You murmured to him, but your wavering voice caught his instant attention.

You were on the verge of tears, oh dear. If you started sobbing, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold back from crying either.

Leon didn’t waste a second, pulling you onto his lap, one of his hands stroking the back of your head, his other arm wrapping around your back.

“What are you thinking about?” He needed to know. You had always been the most verbal, whereas his feelings usually showed on his face or body language.

“About how much I missed you.” You respond, running your hands up and down his arms, squeezing at his muscles. “And how unreal this feels. And…” Your eyes flicker down to his lips. “I wanna kiss you, Leon…and y’know.” Make love. “Like old times.”

Oh.

“Are you sure?” Leon hadn’t intended for the night to play out this way. He needed to make sure you were actually thinking straight with the pool of emotions you seemed to be drowning in. To be fair, he was drowning too.

It was midnight, your bodies burned for one another.

“I am.” You uttered those words with such finality, eyes set on him.

This wasn’t some impromptu longing for his physical connection, you had been craving it for as long as the two of you had been separated. To feel him in the purest and most tender way possible, nestled against one another and eliciting feelings no one else could.

The pads of his thumbs rub circles against the fat of your hips. He's looking up at you, his eyes are unable to hide a flicker of yearning and affection. Expressive, his pupils dilated and his eyebrows slightly raised. He blinked slowly, like a cat showing utmost trust to its owner.

He looks at you like he worships you (he does.) Get him on his hands and knees, he’ll mumble your name like you’re his god and he’s praying to you, all his sins out in the open and his scarred body for you to look over and judge. He’ll be vulnerable with you if that means you’ll forgive his wrongdoings and give him a second chance. You must be a merciful god, no doubt about it.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You murmured, cupping his face. His gaze was hypnotic, sending a wave of security down your body. It almost felt as if you traveled to the time before he shattered your heart into pieces of glass.

“Like what?” He couldn’t help it. Not like he had a mirror, anyway. His face was usually tense, brows permanently furrowed and eyes narrowed from being attentive all the fucking time, his lips a straight line, jaw anything but relaxed.

Not right now, though. Never with you. Everything in his body softened and loosened up around you. Well, with the exception of his dick but that was another matter.

“You know what I mean. Like…like you still love me.”

Leon didn’t know what to say. The words died in his throat while every fiber of his being wanted to say ‘I do.’ The same words he could’ve voiced out standing across the altar from you. His brain short-circuited.

His pause came across as ambiguous to you, to mask the pain, you kissed him. Like a chocolate on a hot summer day, he melted in an instant, turning to mush, holding one side of your jaw and matching your pace.

The two of you mingled like two puzzle pieces. Your chest was flush against his, one of your hands finding his hair and pulling on it, earning a drawn out groan from him. It went slow for the first five minutes, some occasional pull backs for breath, shy smiles in betweens, before going back in like the act of kissing was needed for your pulses to continue, your hearts beating as one.

“Mmph.” Your whimper made him shudder, oh how he had missed that noise. His other hand got a bit more confident, resting on the small of your back, moving up towards your ribs then back down, almost resting on your ass.

He felt a surge of heat settle in his groin, aching to give you all the pleasure you deserved, to make you feel cherished and known. To knock any misery out of your head and replace it with euphoric sparks and reassurance. To be one with you again, if you’d have him.

He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes fluttering open. “Bedroom?”

A nod from you was all it took. He didn’t let you get up, instead holding your ass as he stood up, his lips back on yours as he carried you to your bedroom like he owned the place. His mind still had the spatial layout, it worked out and he eventually placed you onto the middle of the bed oh so delicately.

You knew what was coming, already taking your clothes off in a haste as you heard his belt come undone, the sound of his taking his shirt off, and his boots being kicked off.

It wasn’t long until he was on you again.

Leon took his time to look at your body. He was all too familiar with it, knowing exactly where certain beauty marks were, or the places that were sensitive to even the slightest fan of his breath. His fingertips ghosted over your sides, sucking in a sharp inhale as his eyes roamed all over, studying you as if you were his muse and he was about to draw you. “So beautiful…”

His lips had traveled all across you once upon a time. Leon had a great memory, perhaps one of his best features, though also his downfall. At times like these, it comes in handy. It almost seemed like a hazy flashback to the nights he had you splayed on the bed, pressing his lips against your forehead and making it all the way to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He wanted to mimic the memory. “Need to taste you. Can I?”

“God, yes.” You agreed in a heartbeat, body already feeling all tingly at the anticipation.

He littered open mouthed kisses from the middle of your chest, all the way down to your end of your stomach, making your body ignite with flames and mind flood with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. What day was it? Month? Year? You couldn’t remember, just desperately hoping this wasn’t some realistic feeling dream. You’ve had those too often, and if you woke up without him by your side, you felt like you would die from heartbreak.

He hooked his arms underneath your thighs to pull you close. His fingers dug into your thighs as he took another look at his favorite pretty cunt. He missed this. Missed you. Missed having you grind yourself against his face until he couldn’t breathe. Missed having his heart race from the angelic noises you blessed his ears with.

His nose pressed against your clit, applying light pressure as his tongue lapped at your slit, gathering the dew there. Geez, he really got right into it. Your eyes rolled back, your stomach tensing and your back arching. You could die right now by your (ex) lover’s tongue, what a way to go.

On the occasion that he opened his eyes, he’d look up at you through his light lashes — he swore you looked like an angel from his perspective.

“What is this? Your last meal on death row?” You were joking, but god…he really was making your mind go blank, he knew just all the right buttons to press.

“Oh, so you think I’m a criminal?”

Like always, you reached for his hair, pushing it back and hearing him growl out of contentment. He gave your clit gentle sucks before flattening his tongue against it and flicking it, his head moving side to side, repeating the process again and again.

One thing about Leon? He always found a way to turn you on by being vocal. His noises were muffled and sloppy but you could feel the vibration of all his whimpers and growls against you as he took his time eating you out. He was getting off to pleasuring you, and that fact alone made it so much hotter.

Your thighs were trembling, threatening to close in and squeeze his head. Leon placed one of his hands over your lower abdomen, applying light pressure with his palm and coaxing you into your orgasm.

It didn’t take you long to get there, you hadn’t felt a tongue on you in ages, he was your last.

“Leon, I’m—“

He already knew.

“That’s it, make a mess all over my face.” It sounded like a demand but instead it came across as a pitiful and desperate plea.

How many times had he been in this position? Lying on his stomach, your taste on his tongue, chin dripping with his drool and your wetness, feeling your body trembling…he couldn’t even count how many. But it was enough for him to know your body like no other.

He kept going even after your thighs started squeezing in on him, even with the way you unintentionally tugged at his hair enough to have him rutting against your sheets. He made sure to make your orgasm feel good, lapping at you all throughout until he heard a whine leave your lips and he felt you weakly push his head away — he didn’t want to overstimulate you and hurt you.

He finally took a breath, one that filled his lungs with satisfaction as he propped himself up on his elbows before sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his blood pump south with the way you were still composing yourself, your legs twitching all cutely and your torso rising and sinking with each deep breath you attempted to take.

“Do you wanna…” Your eyes flitted down to the prominent tent in his pants, feeling a stirring in your stomach already.

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I mean…only if you want to.”

With his belt already in some corner of the room and his fly down, all that was left was discarding his pants and boxers down. He fished his wallet out and pulled a packet from it before doing so.

You were too distracted eyeing his now exposed dick, gulping. It had been a while. But a certain wrapper noise caught your attention. A condom. You had always been careful with him in the past, but you wanted him inside him without any barriers. To feel him entirely, his skin against your insides.

“Don’t, please?”

“But–“

“I need to feel you, Leon.”

“Already being a bad influence on me? What am I gonna do with you?” His jest was met with your roll of eyes, but the corners of your eyes crinkled, happy he was already comfortable enough to bicker a bit.

He pet your head, gazing fondly at you as he awaited your response.

“I just want to feel you as close as possible. I don't know how to explain it. You can pull out at the end…I dunno.”

You didn’t need to explain further, because he felt the same. He kissed your forehead, whispering “okay.”

Getting in between you and in position for missionary, he continued peppering kisses all over your face. He couldn’t hold back, he had so much to make up for, he owed you at least a thousand more. He pushed into you, a breathy moan leaving his lips, it felt like he had just entered the pearly gates. And the way your jaw hung open in a silent gasp told him you felt the same.

“You alright?”

“Mhm, keep going.”

“God, I missed you…” His thrusts made the bed creak, adding to the assortment of sounds of two bodies joined as one: skin against skin, high pitched gasps and occasional throaty groans, nails scratching against Leon’s back and leaving red marks in their wake, a subtle noise, but there nonetheless.

“Yeah? How much?”

“Too much. Could never get you outta my mind.” He admitted, burying his head against your neck to leave open-mouthed kisses all over, smiling when he felt you squirming. “Dreamt about you every night. Every…every morning I woke up, I thought you’d still be by my side.”

His response knocked the breath out of you, God if you could have him closer than physically possible, you would. This was the closest you’d be though, his tip hitting your g-spot, his body flush against yours, it was just the two of you in this never ending universe.

“Leon…Leon…fuck.” You called for him like you needed him to prevent you from crumbling.

He pinned one of your hands to the side of your head and laced his fingers between yours, his head remaining against your other side, raspy grunts and incoherent praises rumbling against your ear. He gently bit your earlobe, tugging at it and sending a shiver down your spine.

Despite all his self doubts, Leon knew how to love, how to send another person to cloud nine and make their head fuzzy with sheer euphoria. He wasn’t fucking you, he was loving you, there’s a clear difference.

His lips trailed to your jawline, eventually reaching your lips and initiating an uncoordinated make out session, the sound of dazed out whimpers and quiet growls mixing together perfectly.

He was getting there, his pace more erratic than before, his hand squeezing yours tightly. “You’re so pretty.” He mumbled against your lips, speaking in between rushed pecks. “Prettiest girl in the world.”

You managed to smile at that. “Yeah? Well you’re the prettiest boy in the world.”

You could’ve said handsome. Or hot. Or cute. But Leon was pretty, that was always the first thing that came to your mind. He was like a model, surely some agency would have tried to recruit him if he were actually in broad daylight more.

“Mm.” He liked the compliment. No more words were exchanged after that, he was focused on feeling you. Feeling the way you took all of him like it was nothing, clearly the two of you were physically made for one another.

There was no going back from this, Leon couldn’t bear the thought of getting a taste of happiness yet again and then falling back into a hopeless pit. He wouldn’t push you away again.

You were already sensitive from the way he had made you cum on his face earlier. You pulled away from his kisses, your head thrashing side to side against the pillow instead, your hips desperately bucking to meet his.

“Leon…”

“Just let go for me, you can do it.”

Moans ripped from your throat, your nails leaving crescent indents on his skin as your body writhed underneath him. Leon couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you came, his own stomach feeling tighter and tighter until he followed suit.

“I love you.” He let it slip at the very end, his mind too dazed and his emotions for you running at full blast. You would’ve replied if not for the way you were in awe, watching the way his eyebrows furrowed, his head tilted back, his mouth let out the raspiest grunts as he pulled out and came. Fuck, he couldn’t be real.

It was only then that Leon’s head cleared. He felt his heart sink to his stomach, had he said something wrong? The moment died down, he felt uncertain about how you’d react. Regardless, Leon took a moment to admire you in your flushed state before leaning down to kiss your head, then lying down beside you and pulling you to his side.

You were all dazed with his confession lingering in your head.

He still loved you. Maybe it was obvious, but hearing it aloud was a completely different feeling.

All the suppressed emotions between the two of you were being put on the spotlight. Your eyes brimmed with unshed tears, you tried to blink them away, but you failed.

Leon wished your eyes hadn’t gotten glossy and that your lips hadn’t tugged into a small frown. It made his heart physically ache. Heavy hearted, that’s what he felt like, swallowing to try to alleviate just how sore his throat felt all of a sudden. Guilt bubbled in his stomach because he knew he was the source of your tears.

He kissed away your tears, welcoming the salty taste of them.

He couldn’t tell you not to cry, he wasn’t in the position to. All he could do was reassure you instead, curling his hand into a fist before rubbing soothing circles onto your back as he watched you curl against him.

“Hey…”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to start crying. I just…you still love me? Did you mean that?”

“It’s okay. Just let it out, I'm here for you.” He had your head tucked underneath his chin. “And yeah…I never stopped.”

“I love you too.”

He wasn’t leaving this time.

Maybe that ring he held onto would find its true owner soon.

You, his sweet girl.

[hazelfoureyes]

Ok I need a Lucifer x Reader fic based on Griftwood by ghost pretty please ( just listen if you haven’t heard it you’ll understand)

Listen, I went the opposite direction I think you wanted? Lol gonna work on brevity and get more snack sized smut out on weekdays and entrees on he weekends

[Warnings/Promises: snack sized, Lucifer x GN!AngelReader, lil smut smut, Fuck Sera, Luci corrupts absolutely, all hail dat dick, sacrilegious as fuck]

🫸🏼minors DNI🫷🏼

Lucifer avoided the heavenly embassy for obvious reasons. The vast halls, the empty and useless pews, it was, in a word, 

“Creepy,” He hissed. 

He was surprised to find the reception desk manned. Very rarely did heaven actually send anyone down to hell. Oh, wait.

You were stunned already to see Lucifer, so when he poked your nose you let out a tiny squeal.

“Oh shit! You’re real!” Lucifer took a step back, “Sorry about that! Not used to an … actual person.” He gave a little bow, “Forgive me?”

The fact is no one wanted to go to hell for desk duty, so the job was actually a punishment reserved for the most misbehaved. You had to intentionally set fire to Sera’s robes to get that severe of a scolding. She was reluctant, but it had been threatened (promised) to you last time you (intentionally) caused trouble. Rumors were abuzz about Lucifer, and you just had to see for yourself what the Great Big Boss of Hell was like.

Rosey cheeks, bright sharp smile. He didn’t look as scary as you had imagined. You expected a seven foot eight inch tall behemoth with fire pouring from his mouth and blood stained horns.

The devil, the real one, looked quite sweet.

A tiny existential crisis washed over you. Maybe there was a reason they didn’t want people down here. Why they made it sound oh-so-terrible.

“You still in there?” He leaned over the counter, tapping at your forehead. Your hands flew up, capturing his finger and bringing it down.

Warm. 

He froze, a little shocked you would touch him. Your smile went crooked, cheeks blushed. 

“Uhhh you good?” He pointed with his free hand to where you still gripped his finger. You nodded, a hum of confirmation. The blush rose up until you were fully red in the face.

The realization struck Lucifer like heavenly lightning, “Oooh, I see what’s going on here.” A wicked smirk taking you by surprise. “Did you want to meet me, little one?”

You broke out into a sweat, “Yes.”

Lie! Why didn’t you lie?!

He leaned over the counter, “Did you do something bad to get sent here?” Was there fire behind his eyes?

Uneven breaths, “… yes.”

Lucifer’s knee came up and over as he crawled onto the desk, “Should the King of Hell reward you for such bad deeds?” His eyes had gone red now, your hand still on his finger.

Your knees began to shake, “Y-yes.”

His face was inches from yours when your legs gave out, both of you falling to the floor.

Horns tall, yellow pupils dilated as he straddled you. “I think you’ll find I’m a generous ruler.”

It made sense. As Lucifer bent you over the reception desk and fucked you from behind, you could completely understand why they made this job posting sound horrid. Heaven would be empty if every winner could freely interact with Lucifer. You’d damn humanity too, if that was the cost. His hips snapped against your ass with divine determination, sweet praises on his forked tongue. 

The sounds of your gasps and his skin on yours echoed through the pristine white and gold halls. Like a pastor giving his sermon, he made the most delicious promises as you bent at the altar. 

Could heaven hear you? Your chants of “God, Oh God,” shifting to, “Lucifer! Luci—fer”, when one of his hands came down, fingers stroking your heat?

“What do you pray for, my curious Angel?” He growled, a flame you couldn’t see licking past his lips. “I’ll grant you anything”

Your cheek was sliding across the marble, small line of drool smearing on your face. Claws raked down your back, the stimulation making you shake.

Your fingers reached for his thighs, failing to take purchase. Lucifer took both of your wrists in one hand and held them at the small of your back for leverage. Your legs bent up, toes curling as you came around his sweetly punishing cock.

Taking a few deep breaths, you rolled your hips back against him, “More.”

Lucifer laughed and lifted one foot onto the desk to add more force behind his thrusts, “Say please.”

am I too horny? No. No, the cardiologist is wrong.

╭──────༺♡̶༻──────╮ Masterlist ╰──────༺♡̶༻──────╯

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list): @cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , fizzled-phoenix , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @fjorjestertealeaf , @pansexual-opera-house , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @roxxie-wolf , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @phobophobular , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @surusurusuru , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum , @ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot

[knavesflames]

halloooooo !! I’m not sure if requests are open but if they’re not it’s okay if you don’t write this. I wanted to ask if you could write an Arlecchino x reader (fluff, can be fic or headcanons or anythint) where reader is insecure about her face ? Like they don’t think they’re pretty enough bc of their friends and stuff. Thank you !! Take your time and have a nice day <3

I needed something like this rn so I’m almost glad it took so long for me to get to (though I am sorry, i have been so busy) a lil hard to be positive right now but i tried my best!!

Word count: 707

Contents: fluff, insecure reader

UTC!

Your friends are beautiful, handsome. They truly are. Your girlfriend, Arlecchino, is stunning too. It seems everyone around you has the perfect face, looks utterly amazing. You find yourself admiring them whenever you’re around them. Yet, you, yourself, are not any of those things. Not in your own mind. You can’t even look at yourself in the mirror, at least, not recently. You find your eyes burning with hot tears the second you catch a glimpse, and you find yourself growing bitter at the sight of anyone who doesn’t look like you. At least before it got so bad you could joke about how you wanted to be them, and now jealousy has given way to hatred, even if they’ve done nothing wrong.

It isn’t like Arlecchino hasn’t noticed, either. The way your makeup mirror has been flipped around so you don’t have to see yourself, or the way you purposely avoid looking towards any reflective surface, even during intimate activities. And if we’re honest, Arlecchino loves to make you look at yourself while you’re coming undone because of her, except her recent advances have been met with a firm ‘no’.

She can’t figure out why you suddenly began acting like this. Any mention of either your frame or your face turns you angry and silent, with your fists clenching. You aren’t angry really though, you’re just sad. Sad you won’t ever look like the people you wish you could look like. Devastated at the thought that Arlecchino will one day see sense and leave you for one of them. The thought of that hurts you so much you begin distancing yourself from her, too. Arlecchino, at first, is confused. She, for the life of her, cannot understand any of this. Yet, the day comes where you can’t even bring yourself to look at her while she speaks to you, and she can’t seem to keep herself quiet anymore.

“Look at me,” she snaps. She tries not to lose her temper with you, not when she knows there’s a clear reason why you’re acting the way you’re acting, but you’re not saying anything, you won’t even look at her.

You feel your own jaw setting, all of your negative feelings bubbling up for no reason. Unfortunately this time, she seems to be the target. “Or what, you’ll leave me for someone prettier?”

Arlecchino doesn’t flinch, but her expression, the one that’s usually so graceful and emotionless, crumples into a frown of pure disbelief and confusion. Her voice this time comes out as a quiet hiss. “What? You doubt my affection for you after all this time? Is that what this is about?”

When you go to argue back, and your voice breaks into a cry, she softens as much as someone like Arlecchino can soften. “I see,” she murmurs, sitting down next to you. Her hand softly lands on your knee, squeezing it gently. “This again, is it? I have told you countless times—“

“It doesn’t help. I still feel this way.” Your attempt at a venomous response does nothing but highlight how you’re feeling, the exact opposite effect you wanted. Still, you sniffle, your hands curled in on themselves as you talk. “No words will help that I want to rip off my own skin because it feels like I am the ugliest creature to ever walk the earth, or that I feel like I have been created for the universe to be amused at my torment.”

“Yet to me, you are a creature full of beauty and grace. You are wonderful, your face is, too. Do you not think I would have left if I wanted to?” Your response to her words is silence. Unfortunately for your brain, she has a point. She could leave in a heartbeat, you couldn’t stop her if you pleaded. She stays, though. Doesn’t that say enough?

“If I didn’t know better, I would say you are a descendant of a goddess. So, how dare you speak about yourself in that way? I did not fall for your friends, or some girl on the street. I demand nothing but the best for myself, and that is exactly what I have. Next time you feel this way, you come to me.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Leader of the Pack 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: On a night out at the bar, you're promoted from wing woman to main star.

Characters: James Conrad, short!reader

Note: it’s hump dayyyy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"Go grab us a pool table," Martyna demands as she leans on the bar. 

"Oh, sure," you turn to search the bar. There's only one table and it's taken. You frown. "Someone's already on it." 

"So what? Go put a stack of quarters on it," she says, "I can't. I gotta get my drink." 

"Right, er," you teeter on your feet and look back at the table, one man lining up his shot as the other watches, his thick hands around his cue.  

The shooter snaps the stick and the clack of balls is sharp and strong. You near nervously, pulling out change as you keep just outside their perimeter as the second man considers his turn with a suck of his teeth. Where he's burly, with a shaggy dark beard, and faded ball cap, the other man has blonde hair and is lithe. They are both tall, though the slimmer man has at least an inch on the other. 

You step forward as the man aims from the other corner. You set down four quarters in a stack, just enough to feed the table for another round. The thicker man pauses as he pulls back the cue and narrows his eyes. 

"Eh, you're gonna mess me up," he barks. 

"Oh, sorry," you recoil and fold your hands over your chest, "I was only..." 

You quiet as he grumbles and shakes his head, eyes pinpointing on the felt. You shake your head and back up as the other man tisks. 

"Syverson, don't have to be so rude, the lady is merely claiming her turn," the slender man intones, just a foot from you as he twirls the cue, it's butt set to the floor. "Don't fret over my companion," he girds in his peculiar accent, "he's a sore loser." 

"Heh, what's that about..." the other man hits the cue ball and sends a striped one into the pocket, "losing?" 

You're quiet, nodding as you try to think of the proper response. No one's ever called you a lady. Most people don't notice you. It's why Martyna prefers you as her wing woman, you keep her company until she finds someone fun. 

"Rather, you set me up finely," the first man retorts. 

You cross your arms protectively and back up, making sure you're out of the broader man as he stalks around to place his next shot. His friend watches calmly, unbothered as he knocks another ball in, then lines up for the third. That one's a miss. 

"Shit," the man in the ball cap stands straight and sends you a look. You're not even close to the trim. 

"Oh, don't even try to blame her," the blond reprimands, "that's not very valiant, is it?" 

"Whatever," the other grumbles as he plants his feet and watches the other. 

The slimmer man puts his first shot easily in the corner, the next he sends two balls into opposite pockets, and the next sees him with only the eight ball left to sink. His opponent huffs and shakes his head. You rock back and forth, you hope he wins if only to clear the table. 

"Finally," Martyna nudges you as she comes up beside you, "they didn't have Corona, you believe that?" 

"Oh, that's crummy," you say, watching the mam measure his shot. 

"Mmph, I know you don't give a crap," she scoffs, "why didn't you grab a ginger ale?" 

"I'm fine, just had that iced coffee," you shrug. 

She hums again. She knows you don't drink, that this isn't your scene, that you're not exactly a social butterfly, so why does she act so disappointed. She invited you. It's always her idea, never yours. You just go along, otherwise you'd have nothing to do and no friends.  

"Kinda cute," she leans over to whisper, "look at his shoulders..." 

You lower your brow as your cheeks burn. You hadn't really thought of that. Then, you wonder, which one she's talking about. They both have nice shoulders and muscular arms. 

They're strangers! You shouldn't think of that. You uncross your arms and once more clasp your hands together. 

The man finally shoots, calling left pocket. He calls it true. The ball rolls in and his buddy sighs and swears. 

"Nice," Martyna pops her lips off her bottle of flavoured vodka, "our turn." 

She steps and grabs the quarters. The bearded man tilts his head at her and fixes his camouflage cap. His cheek dimples as the other man rounds the table and pats his shoulder, "better luck next time, chap." 

"Isn't luck," the burly one utters and rolls his eyes, "hustler..." 

"And yet you keep falling for it," the other snickers, "come on, I'll buy you a celebratory pint, eh?" The blond turns and strides toward you. "Miss, you're up." 

He offers the cue and your lashes flick. You couldn't see his eyes before. They're so blue. You gulp and accept the wooden stick. 

"Thank you," you squeak. 

Martyna chuckles and grabs the triangle frame from the slot and sets it out. The blond leads away his second, the man with the beard sending a glance at Martyna as she loads the quarters to release the balls. You wait for her to set up, standing back with the cue in hand. You can still feel the warmth of its previous holder's grip. 

Martyna swigs from her bottle and sets it back on the trim. She fluffs her black curls and makes a pouty face. She's not doing that for you. 

You glance behind her, those men are watching. The blond nods cordially and returns his attention to the bar. The beard one continues to leer in Martyna's direction. You spin back. 

"You wanna break?" You ask. 

"Sure, whatevs," she turns to the table. 

You wait patiently as she scatters the balls. She sinks two solids. She's always been better at this than you. You don't mind losing. It doesn't make much of a difference. 

She sinks two more before your turn comes. You regret not grabbing a soda as you mouth grows dry. Martyna is sure to loudly tell you about this guy she works with and how much he wants her. You just humour her with smiles and mhmms. It isn't you she wants to hear her. You know her tricks. 

You sink a stripe, then a solid. Back to Martyna. You aren't very good at the game. Your arm's are too short. Maybe if you could get on the table you'd have a chance but that's not proper. 

She narrows the solids down to two plus the eight ball. You try your hand again. Scratch. But she misses her shot and you get another go. You sink two before you're done. Still, you're behind. 

She empties her bottle, a dramatic gulp that extends her whole body. She outshines you in all aspects; her hair, her looks, her height, her clothes... 

She wiggles her but as she bends to clean up. One ball, then two, then she lines up for the final blow. The eight. She calls the corner. She bounces it easily into the pocket and squees and hops, her shirt doing little to contain her amped up excitement. 

You lean the cue against your arm and give a clap, "good job, Mart," you say. Genuinely. It was fun enough.  

"Aw, you did good," she preens, "how about a rematch? Got any more change?" 

"Ahem," a voice interrupts as you grab your purse. The jangle of change comes from behind you and a shadow steps forward, "perhaps you might want to make it interesting? Fancy a round of pairs?" 

You glance over at the man with blond hair and lilted accent. Well, you look at his sleeve and follow it up. His profile is well-forged. If you had a type, he might be it. You never considered many men, they never considered you either. 

"Pairs?" Martyna toys with proposal coyly and eyes the bearded man as he comes up beside his friend, "I guess it makes sense. But girls vs boys?" 

"No fun," the blond agrees, "we might mix it up, eh?" He grins, "James," he touches his chest, "this is--" 

"Sy," the other man, who you called Syverson, speaks up, "ladies." 

"Martyna," your friend rolls out. 

You offer your name in a pitchy stammer. You already feel like the odd one out. The tension is thick enough to choke you. 

"Sy, fetch us some cues," James demands, "I'll claim a partner," he looks over at you, "do you mind?" 

"Oh, er, yeah, but um, I'm not very good," you say, certain he must have been able to see as much from across the room. 

"I'm certain we'll work fabulously together," he assures. 

"Here," Sy returns with two sticks, nearly jabbing the James with the spare.  

You cling to your cue and fidget. You have no idea what to do now. Someone has to begin. 

"I'll break," Sy insists. 

"Of course, loser's first," James quips. 

He gets an arch of the thick brow in return before Sy bends to aim between two fingers. You dig your nail into the wood of the cue in your hand. James sidles closer, crowding you as you catch a hint of something citrus. 

Sy bends and pulls back the cue. He hits the ball and sends it zooming fast enough to crack the triangle on the other end. The stripes and solids scatter, bouncing all around. James chuckles and leans towards you. 

“You’ll see he’s about strength, he doesn’t realise the significance of precision,” he intones, “I can show you. It isn’t about how hard you hit but the exact angle,” he tilts his hand to demonstrate as the balls still but non fall into the pockets. “Ladies first.” 

You don’t move right away. At first, you don’t get his meaning. You lift the cue and approach the table. You look around. It’s your choice; stripes or solids. Whatever you can get, as usual. 

That number four is hovering right at the side pocket. It’s an easy score. You’ll take it. 

You position yourself, overly aware of your audience. It feels like the whole bare is watching. You blow out your breath and set your sights. You pull back and snap forward. The cue ball wobbles in its path but hits true, knocking the four into the hole. 

It isn’t exactly precise. You stand straight and let out and oomph as your back meets an unexpected wall. James brings his arms up and puts his hands around yours. His proximity is suffocating. 

“You’ve got an easy in on the five,” he advises, guiding you to bend with him as he directs your stick. “Loose,” he wiggles your front hand and squeezes your back hand. “Keep it like this, not too high.” 

He holds you like that for a moment then draws back. He steps to the side and crosses his arms. You focus on the ball, your skin speckling with heat. His scent lingers, perhaps a touch of orange in his cologne. You keep your hold loose and grip tight the butt of the cue. You shoot and the white ball clacks off the red solid, sending it neatly into the corner. 

Martyna giggles and you look up. She’s not laughing at you. Sy is muttering something to her. You blink and stands straight, glancing over at James. You understand what this is but you’re the placeholder, the wing woman, you just keep the friend busy while she has her fun. You know how this ends. 

“You’ve got another go,” James says. 

You nod dumbly and face the table again. You search for your best hope and shift around to the other side. You nearly cross your eyes in your efforts to bounce the ball from one wall into the opposite pocket. You just miss. You cringe and back away. 

Your gaze meets James’ as you find him watching you still. Martyna moves to line up her shot, giggling over her shoulder as she does. As you edge away from her, that man’s eyes follow you. They’re so blue. So, intense. 

You look at the tip of the cue and tap your thumb to the side. You’re in your head. He’s not really staring. When you peek up again, he hasn’t looked away. Not even as you hear the balls hit. He winks and your chest pounds in disbelief.

This can’t be real. 

[nyanbin]

ღ infrunami — p.wb

10. papa's tteokbokkiria

꒰ EPISODE LENGTH ꒱ 3.1k words

꒰ AUTHOR’S NOTE ꒱ texts + tweets at the end! practically wrote a whole ass oneshot fic again cus im insane but theres more yn/wonbin interactions in this one i promise ^_^

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𖦹 JUN. 14 (YEAR 1, SPRING) — 5:48 PM

THE YEARLY SPRING FESTIVAL AT SM UNIVERSITY takes place right before the beginning of the finals period of the spring semester, acting as a moment of respite and fun for students before the inevitable days of rigorous studying. It was your first year attending the festival as a student at the university, but you had sometimes visited when you were in high school, oftentimes with Eunseok in tow, so you were already somewhat familiar with how it worked and what kinds of things you could do there.

Unfortunately, in your case, you haven’t yet been able to experience the festivities, because you’d headed straight to the tteokbokki stand as soon as you’d arrived. The festival had already  been in full swing by the time you had gotten there with Shotaro and Eunseok, on account of all of your last classes of the day being in a building on the other side of campus. But while you actually did have just a little bit of time to look around before your shift, the two boys were oddly eager to send you off, reasoning that you should get there early so that Seunghan wouldn’t get in trouble. (As if they actually cared that much if he did.)

So, here you were, standing under the canopy tent of the photography club’s tteokbokki booth, longingly watching the passersby and listening to the lively music that you could hear playing from every corner of the festival. The girls who were on shift before you had eagerly left as soon as they'd finished explaining everything you needed to know about running the booth, and you were still waiting on Sohee to get there, so you were ultimately left to your own devices.

In the short time since you had arrived, there hadn’t been any customers, which you figured was because most people were currently at the amphitheater nearby watching the music performances. Once those ended, though, you anticipated that there would be a lot more people coming by. As you looked around for something to keep yourself busy in the meantime, you noticed that there were only a few of the canned drinks that the booth was also selling left at the front, so you decided to start by restocking those.

While hunched over the cooler and rummaging for the drinks, you hear the rustle of the tent flap moving aside behind you and assume it’s Sohee who had finally come to help you on the shift. You turn around to greet him, cans gathered in your arms, but his name dies in your throat when you make eye contact with Wonbin instead, who freezes while still ducked halfway underneath the tent. A dry laugh escapes you, and you already feel the aggravation rewiring your brain as if seeing Wonbin’s face had flipped the on-switch.

“What are you doing here?” you snark, narrowing your eyes at Wonbin, who looks to be as taken aback as you are.

He hesitates before stepping inside all the way, glancing around and then back at you. He’s stood firm on the opposite side of the tent as he crosses his arms. “I could say the same for you. Didn’t take you to be much of a photographer.”

You scoff. “I’m not in this club. Seunghan asked me to fill in for him.” While turning away from him to finish restocking the drinks, you continue, “You know if you wanna buy something, you have to go in front of the counter, not behind it, right?” 

”I’m not here to buy something,” he snaps, quick to react to your condescending tone. “Sohee… asked me to come here…” 

You turn to look at him as he suddenly sighs, seeming to realize something as he runs a hand through his hair. “For what?” you ask incredulously. “To work here?”

At his slow, weary nod, it dawns on you, too: this was a set-up. 

Immediately wanting out of this situation, you debated whether or not to call the two instigators and tell them to get their asses over here, but you decided that it was no use. If they had planned this, there was no way Seunghan and Sohee would come back to relieve you of your jobs. You imagined the two of them were frolicking around the festival at this very moment, their phones conveniently on do not disturb.

Resigned, you shake your head in disbelief, turning around to close the cooler with a little more force than needed. “Those idiots…”

You plant your hands on your hips, chewing on your lip, now beginning to dread the next two hours you’d have to spend with the boy you had been at odds with the past few weeks. You glance sideways at the culprit, who was currently peering curiously at the trays of tteokbokki. Wonbin had still not stepped that much away from the other side of the tent, as if he would die if he came within a five-foot radius of you. (Which, in truth, was definitely possible.)

After massaging your temples with a deep exhale, you speak up first. “Listen, I’m sure you’re absolutely loving this situation as much as I am, but I don’t wanna make these next two hours harder than they need to be. So let’s just get through this without fucking anything up, okay?”

Wonbin thinks about your words for a moment with his tongue in his cheek, as if trying to find a way to sneak in a taunting remark, but he instead shrugs as he says, “Fine by me.”

Thus, the first half hour or so of your cruel and unusual punishment mostly consisted of the two of you trying your best to avoid the other in the small space of the canopy tent. Business was still slow, so much time was spent sitting in the folding chairs or idly stirring the tteokbokki, trying to pay no mind to the other person. The only time a word would come out of either of your mouths was when a customer stopped by, attitude all of a sudden all cheerful as if the hostility radiating off the both of you wasn’t evident moments before. 

Once the performances at the amphitheater ended, though, this determination to not work with each other only proved to be detrimental. As you had anticipated earlier, many of the people filing back into the festival after the performances were hungry and looking for something to eat, resulting in a rush of customers at the tteokbokki stand. 

At first, the two of you still refused to properly communicate with each other. But with the way you were each handling the customers on your own, one by one, it quickly became disorienting, as the two of you frantically moved around each other, often getting confused on who had paid already or who was still waiting for something. It was obvious the two of you weren’t gonna last long if you kept this up; so, in a hurry to make things more efficient, you grab Wonbin by the shoulders, pushing him in front of the box of money acting as the cash register.

“You take care of that,” you say while moving to place yourself in front of the trays of tteokbokki, “and I’ll take care of this.” You only look at him briefly, tilting your head as if to say ‘Understand?’, before returning your focus back to the customer in front of you. Wonbin opens his mouth to argue, but decides against it with a shake of his head when he looks back at the growing line of customers.

Eventually, with this system, the two of you seemed to fall into a certain rhythm. Wonbin would take the orders, relaying them to you, and you would serve the food. Every now and then, you would take turns to restock as needed. Simple as that. Unsurprisingly, the rush was infinitely easier to handle now that you and Wonbin were working with each other rather than against each other.

After about an hour into your shift, the constant stream of customers had finally died down and you could finally take a breather. You plopped down into one of the folding chairs while dabbing at the small beads of sweat forming on your forehead from having to stand around the simmering trays of tteokbokki for so long. You slouched into your seat, shutting your eyes and pulling at your collar for some ventilation.

“Here,” you hear a voice say from above you. You open one eye to see Wonbin standing above you, arm outstretched and holding an ice-cold bottle of water towards you. Your stare shifts between the bottle and his face, baffled, before sitting up and hesitantly taking the bottle into your hands.

“Thanks,” you mutter, before taking a nice, long swig. 

Wonbin leans his weight on the table next to him, taking a drink out of his own water bottle. He clears his throat before asking, “Do you notice when you do that voice? Or is it, like, subconscious?”

“What?” You narrow your eyes at him. “What voice?”

“Like a… a customer service voice? When you’re talking to them, your voice kinda like… goes up an octave.” With a sly smile, he begins to mimic your voice in falsetto, the pitch raising an extra note at the end of each sentence. 

“Ugh,” you groan, rolling your eyes at him. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I mean, you suffered through it, didn’t you?”

“Oh, I suffered, alright.”

You expect him to bite back with another taunt, but he relents, just letting out a short, amused laugh, one corner of his mouth lifting in a toothy smirk. You huff, glancing off to the side while wrinkling your eyebrows in annoyance, but, for whatever reason, you realized you didn’t feel as vexed as you wanted to seem. 

Behind Wonbin, you notice a customer walking up to the table. You quickly stood up to go help her on your own, relieved to not have to entertain Wonbin’s antics anymore. 

The customer was an older lady who seemed to be a visitor from off-campus. Already quite used to it at this point, you quickly take her order (during which you realized Wonbin was right about your “customer service voice”) and hand her her food. But instead of leaving, the woman just stands there looking down into the cup with a frown. You raise your eyebrows slightly as she says, “Is this all you’re gonna give me?”

“Sorry?”

“Look, at how much you put in here!” She tilts the cup towards you, jabbing a pointer finger at it. “I could barely feed an ant with this!”

You sigh inwardly, your hopes of not having to deal with any irrational customers here having been dashed. “Sorry, ma’am, but this is the same amount we give everybody.” 

“Well, for the amount I paid, you should be giving more! What is this, huh? A scam?”

Wonbin had turned his attention to the commotion as soon as he heard the woman complain. He was off to the side busying himself with the supplies, glancing at you every now and then as the situation unfolded. When he notices it was only escalating, though, and the woman continues to raise her voice at you, Wonbin decides to step in. “We could get you a new serving, if you like?” he offers.

The woman angrily waves her hand in dismissal. “Just so you could, what, charge me extra for it? Do you think I’m stupid?!”

“There’s no need to yell…” he murmurs in response, earning him a sharp glare from the woman.  You nudge his leg with your foot, signaling to him that it was okay, you had this under control, but he just stays put where he is.

“Ma’am, no one’s trying to scam you here,” you say as softly as you can manage. “If you really don’t want us to replace it, we can give you a refund and you can leave.”

She scowls even more, and you thought if she kept this up the frown would be permanently etched onto her face. “Ugh, you young people are so rude nowadays! Here, just take it back!”

All of a sudden, the woman flings the cup of tteokbokki at you, its trajectory headed straight for the middle of your shirt. Wonbin is quick to react, though, and is able to pull you back by the arm before it hits you, causing the paper cup to fall to the ground instead. Unluckily, some of the sauce still manages to get on your jeans and your shoes, and you wince slightly when you feel its heat seep through your clothes.

The woman clicks her tongue in contempt, looking you guys up and down with another scowl. She then storms off, likely off to find another booth and terrorize the next poor unpaid college student working there.

Wonbin watches her go, then says, indignation lacing his voice, “Holy shit. What the hell was her problem?” He looks down at you, only to realize his hand is still clinging to your forearm. He hurriedly detaches himself from you, suddenly interested in the empty wall of the tent as he sheepishly scratches the nape of his neck.

His awkwardness goes unnoticed by you as you pinch at your jeans to inspect the stain. With a sigh, you say to Wonbin, completely deadpan, “Wow. You saved my life, thanks.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he laughs in response as he moves to the extra supplies to grab a clean towel, then dousing it with water from his bottle. When he turns back to you, you’re crouched by the spill on the ground, picking up the stray pieces of rice cake with a paper towel.

“Here,” he says, handing the damp towel to you to wipe the stain on your clothes. You thank him as you stand, watching him as he takes over cleaning the mess on the ground.

“You’re, uh, good though, right?” Wonbin continues.

“Yeah. It’s fine,” you answer with a shrug. “Though, I will say I’m kinda disappointed you didn’t fight her in my honor like a gentleman.”

“Did you want me to punch an old lady in the face or something?”

“C’mon, she wasn’t that old.”

Wonbin had finished cleaning and disposing of the mess, and was now leaning back on the table behind him, weight shifted to his arms, studying you as you continued fervently wiping on the stain on your jeans and shoes. With an amused huff, he replies, “God, do you seriously hate me so much that you’re siding with the lady who just threw tteokbokki in your face over me?”

You know he doesn’t mean it all too seriously, but his words have you contemplating these past few weeks in retrospect. He clearly didn’t know it, but, deep down, you knew there wasn’t a bone in your body that actually hated him. In fact, it was likely because, despite living (and fighting) with him for a while now, you still felt like you didn’t know him well enough to actually have it out for him. With this in mind, it occurred to you that this stupid scheme the other boys had planned had worked. And you’d hate to prove them right, but you resolved to swallow your pride and try to be mature for once.

After all, there’s one thing you (begrudgingly) knew to be true: Park Wonbin was still someone you wanted to know.

“Hey…” you begin, still mindlessly wiping at the stain, which at this point wasn’t going to get any less noticeable. “You know I don't actually hate you, right?”  Your admission catches Wonbin off-guard. He raises his eyebrows slightly, unsure of where this was leading. 

“Uh-huh…” he says skeptically.

“No, I’m being for real! Y’know, when I first met you guys at the café and I figured out you guys were gonna be my new roommates, the one thing I wanted was for you guys to like me. But you… you were just so distant, and cold, and mysterious, and—”

“Okay, okay. I get it,” Wonbin interjects, hands raised in surrender.

“I guess I just got frustrated because we didn’t immediately get along as well as I’d hoped, and it just sorta blew up in my face— in both our faces. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you… I’m sorry.”

Wonbin doesn’t respond at first, gaze directed downwards and his face expressionless as if he hadn’t heard a single word you’d said. You feel the heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment, ready to take back your apology and replace it with another typically spiteful remark. But then he exhales, returning his gaze to you as he runs a hand through his hair.

“No, you— you shouldn’t apologize. It’s my fault. I was kind of a douchebag,” he admits, picking at his nails in uncertainty. “I shouldn’t have made you feel like the only way you could get through to me was by… y’know…” He waves his hand arbitrarily in place of having to describe the past few weeks of constant bickering and making passive-aggressive jabs at each other.

“I mean, it kinda worked, didn’t it? I feel like we exchanged more words in that argument we had yesterday over toothpaste than the entire first two weeks we knew each other.”

He lets out a hollow laugh. “Mm, guess it did.”

Amidst the bustle of people and the faint music heard from outside the booth, a silence settles between the two of you. It was a kind of silence you weren’t used to with Wonbin, so different from the typical tense, heavy silences you were often subjected to when you were alone with him. Nonetheless, the two of you basked in it as you watched people pass by, chattering and laughing amongst their friends. The sun was beginning to set, and the lampposts lined across the pavement were starting to flicker to life, bathing the festival in a soft, warm glow. It occurred to you that you still had a little under an hour to go stuck working at this booth, but, right now, it didn’t seem so bad.

Wonbin is the first to break the silence, saying, “I saw some people selling bingsu on the way here. I’ve practically been thinking about it this whole time.” He pauses to choose his next words carefully. “If you're not doing anything after this, do you maybe wanna… come with? When we’re done?”

You pretended to contemplate it for a little bit, tapping your finger on your chin. “Hmmm… sure,” you finally reply. “You’re buying, though.”

“Fine,” he yields. “But maybe you should get a change of clothes before we go. You sorta reek of tteokbokki.”

You push at his shoulder with an exasperated groan as the corners of his mouth lift to form a familiar teasing smile. “Oh, screw you, Wonbin.”

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꒰ AUTHOR’S NOTE ꒱ finally out of their blatantly despising each other era yayyyy 🥳 also for reference 25,000₩ is around 19$ and 2000₩ is around 1.50$ LOL

꒰ TAGLIST ꒱ open! leave an ask or comment to be added :) (strikethrough = can’t be tagged)

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[thebetawolfgirl]

We’re Just Friends

Pairing: Timmy x Reader

Warnings: Umm… Friends to lovers? Smut!

A/N: New Fic!

We’re Just Friends

Timothée and y/n had been friends since they were 10 years old. They knew nothing else but each other, they could spot each other from opposite ends of the school yard.

She could find him in a room full of people.

The point is they were close. Closer than siblings, except when they argued it wasn’t like siblings would argue, and it never lasted very long.

Y/n and her friends were getting ready for a party at her apartment, she was trying on dresses in her walk in wardrobe while one of her friends, Daisy was telling her about this guy she had met at one of her mom’s dinner parties.

‘He has a younger brother y/n, I could set you up?’

‘Y/n doesn’t go for the business type, they bore her to death.’

She heard Timmy step into her bedroom and smiled knowing her friends would be rolling their eyes.

‘Timmy, come and help me with this dress please? The zip is stuck again!’

Timmy sighed and opened the doors to the walk in and saw the dress she was wearing, the one with zip on the front ‘Why are you wearing this dress? You know the zip always catches?’

‘Because it’s a nice dress and it’s sparkly.’ She smiles at him as he slides down the zip slowly trying not to catch it again.

She stripped herself of the dress and hung it up before walking over to get something else.

She was walking around in her underwear in front of Timmy and though they were used to their odd behaviour this was new.

Y/n never stripped in front of anyone let alone walking around in her underwear. She didn’t even get undressed in front of her own mother, but here she was walking around half naked in front of her only guy friend.

‘Okay I need to go. As much as I would love to stay for your fashion show I have to get ready.’

Y/n frowned ‘Where you going?’

‘I’m going to be at that party tonight. My sister was invited so I’m going with her.’

Y/n smiled widely and jumped into his arms hugging him tightly, ‘YOURE GOING TOO????’

He chuckled wrapping his arms around her waist tightly and nodded. ‘Yes I’m going too. So I will see you there.’

She let him go, smiling and kissed his cheek before he buried his face in her neck swaying with her before letting her go ‘Get dressed before you catch a chill.’

She turned and squealed as he slapped her ass and turned round to smack his chest scolding him ‘Timmy. Go!’

He smirked as she clicked her tongue and walked out the door while her friends were whispering to each other glancing at them.

‘Y/n why haven’t you and Timmy gotten together?’

‘We’re just friends, and he’s with Stephanie now.’

‘Timmy doesn’t act like that with Stephanie.’ Daisy said raising her eyebrow.

‘In fact I don’t think he’s even touched her in that way.’

Y/n’s head snapped up looking over at her friend ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean Stephanie has been complaining that Timmy still hasn’t slept with her. They’ve been going out for weeks!’

‘That’s impossible.’ Y/n shook her head and went into the bathroom to begin her makeup.

Later after her friends left to get ready themselves y/n heard the door open and close and footsteps come toward her room

‘Timmy?’ She called from the bathroom ‘Is that you?’

‘Yeah, sorry. I know I said we’d meet at the party but can I just arrive with you?’ He came into the bathroom and leaned against the door watching her as she nodded in confirmation.

‘Of course. What’s wrong?’ She asked buttoning her dress jeans and walking over to him.

‘Stephanie found out I’m going to the party after I told her I wasn’t going. Now she wants to go with me, but I already said I was escorting my sister. But Pauline is going with someone else so she doesn’t need me to escort her.’

‘Now Stephanie is pissed because you won’t take her.’ Timmy nodded resting his hands on her hips and pulling her closer. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back as he lay his head against her neck as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

‘Why haven’t you slept with Stephanie yet?’ Y/n asked against his shoulder.

‘It doesn’t seem like the right time.’

He mumbled back, his voice muffled against her skin. ‘You smell good.’

She smiled playing with the curls at his neck.

‘Thank you, it’s cinnamon scented lotion.’

He moved his head, sliding his hand to hold the back of her neck and bit down sucking hard.

‘Ow! Not edible lotion you freak!’ She shoved him playfully, letting him hit the wall as she looked at her neck in the mirror and glared back at his smirking face ‘Im telling everyone you’re a vampire and you tried to eat me!’

He continued to smirk as she grabbed her jacket and bag walking out with him. ‘Come on.’

He followed obediently and walked down to the cab she had ordered in advance and told him to get in with her ignoring his insistence he could walk ‘Timmy get in, you’re not walking anywhere, it’s New York and it’s freezing.’

‘Fine!’ He slid in beside her and they made their way to the party together.

Halfway there she grabbed his phone and got some pics together in the cab and even got a cheeky one of her grabbing his face and kissing his cheek.

He posted one to his social media captioning it “Party time with bestie” and tagged her.

When they reached their destination they paid the driver and quickly got inside when it began to rain. Neither of them considered Stephanie would be attending so Timmy stayed by y/n’s side during the party.

Some of the older guests assumed they were a couple but they always denied it saying they were just friends and they grew up together.

Stephanie arrived an hour after them and sought out Timmy and found him getting cosy with y/n with his arm around her waist nuzzling her neck.

Y/n saw her entering the party and nudged Timmy pointing to his girlfriend and y/n heard him sigh against her neck and she patted his back ‘Go. Now.’ He left with a peck on her neck and she sighed as he approached Stephanie and watched the way he held her and kissed her in greeting.

Her friends were right, Timmy was completely different with Stephanie than he was with her. It was as if he was touching something nasty, y/n knew from just watching them he didn’t like touching her. Wether they were like this in private, she didn’t know. But this interaction was painful to watch.

She watched as they left the room to go out into the garden so y/n decided to subtly follow them when she was stopped by Daisy and some guy.

‘Y/n this is Tanner, Andy’s younger brother who I was telling you about.’

‘Oh hello, it’s not a good time right now. We’ll catch up later Daisy.’

She walked off sighing. She knew she had just been rude but she had to check on Timmy.

Y/n walked out into the garden and heard someone arguing as if they were trying to keep their voices down.

‘I just don’t get it, Timothée. We’ve been together for weeks and we still haven’t even had sex yet.’

‘I’m just not ready yet Stephanie. I’ve told you that!’ She heard him sigh, and took a peak around the corner and saw him sitting on a stone bench while Stephanie stood over him her arms folded across her chest looking upset.

‘But you won’t even touch me. Whenever I try an kiss you you turn your head away and right now when I tried to sit on your lap you pushed me off.’

‘Because you’re obsessed with sex! I’ve never met anyone so obsessed with fucking the way you are!’

‘I’m not obsessed with sex, I just want to have sex with you.’ She shouted.

Y/n had heard enough she came out of the shadow of her hiding place saying Timothée’s name ‘Timmy. Pauline is looking for you. Hello Stephanie, you look lovely as always.’ Y/n smiled nodding her head slightly in acknowledgment. Stephanie was glaring at y/n until she complimented her and she returned her smile in thank you.

Timmy stood up and followed y/n inside leaving Stephanie standing alone with her thoughts.

‘Thank you for rescuing me.’ Timmy whispered walking with y/n indoors.

‘You’re welcome, I saw you walking out with her and knew she would start something with you.’ He nodded grabbing a glass of champagne from a tray being passed around and took a sip before pulling y/n to his side by her waist and kissed her exposed shoulder, lightly nipping the skin making her turn her head towards him and wrapped her arm over his shoulder, when she saw the guy Daisy brought over make his way through the crowd towards them and sighed ‘Daisy isn’t gonna let this go until I give this guy a moment of my time.’

Timmy looked over and smirked ‘Very business type.’ He sniggered but y/n whispered his ear. ‘If you don’t come and get me in 15 minutes no more cuddles.’ He choked on his last chuckle and went pale at the very serious threat and nodded as the guy approached with a million dollar smile and y/n had to stop herself from gagging in disgust.

‘Hi, I’m-‘

‘Tanner, yes I remember. Nice to meet you.’ She held out her hand which he took and kissed her knuckles.

Oh so he was this type of guy, goodie. She could feel Timmy coming closer to her in a protective manner and smirked.

‘Would you care to dance?’

‘Sure, why not.’

He guided her to the dance floor as Timmy looked on burning a hole into the guy’s skull and walked over to Daisy pointing to his best friend’s dance partner ‘Who the fuck invited James Bond?’

‘I did, i wanted y/n to meet him.’

‘Why? He’s not her type.’

‘I thought he was handsome and cultured.’

‘He’s a shmuck and slobbering all over someone’s hand doesn’t make you cultured. It makes you look like a baby with no teeth.’

Daisy glared and stalked off while Timmy looked on counting down to 15 minutes when he could drag her away from this moron.

He didn’t know why he was acting so jealous, but he knew this guy was not y/n’s type. She liked the goofy type of guy who she could boss around but who could equally take charge when called for.

And he knew this because she ordered him around like a puppy. This guy was the type of guy that would order her food for her at a restaurant, who would feel threatened by her independence and her strength.

He looked at his watch and saw it had been 15minutes and walked over to where they were standing at the bar and was close enough to hear their conversation and knew it was not going well, for him. The guy was trying to order for her at the bar, and she was telling the bartender that she didn’t want that. He was also insisting that he would like to buy drink for her but y/n had already handed the guy her money paying for her own drink.

‘I pay my own way, I don’t need anyone’s charity.’

Timmy smiled approaching hearing the guy huffing exasperated ‘It’s not charity, it’s called being gentlemanly. A lady should never pay for her own drink at a party. Especially if a gentleman is offering to pay.’

She turned seeing Timmy approaching and tilted her head asking him ‘Timmy am I a lady?’ Timmy scoffed shaking his head ‘No. Absolutely not.’

‘And do I always pay my own way?’

‘You paid the cab ride over here.’

‘Exactly. So let this chivalrous crap go. I’m not into it. It’s more Daisy’s thing than mine.’

The guy shook his head disapprovingly and left as Timmy and y/n smiled at each other.

‘So do i still get my cuddles?’

He asked taking a sip of the very unlady like beer she had ordered for herself.

‘Yes of course you do.’ She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he hugged her back holding her tight against him before sitting on the bar stool pulling her back against him by her waist and watched the party going on around them. The music was louder now as the older guests had retired earlier and only the guests their age remained.

He wrapped his arm tighter around her waist and played with the waistband of her jeans, touching her skin there. She lay her hand over his and entwined their fingers together as he leaned forward and nipped her shoulder. She leaned into him and nudged his nose with hers and kissed his cheek.

‘Is there somewhere we can go?’

He whispered against her neck and she took his hand getting up and dragged him out of the door and up a set of stairs looking for a room.

Every time she stopped to open a door he would grab her hips and nip and kiss her neck until they found a bedroom and she dragged him in behind her as he ran his hands up and grabbed fistfuls of her breasts through her waistcoat, she kicked the door shut and he slammed her against it and began sucking on her neck while turning the key in the lock behind her as she tugged on his hair trying to get him closer to her as possible. She pushed her knee between his legs and pressed against his groin causing him to bite down on her neck hard.

He grabbed her waist picking her up and tosses her on the four poster king size bed crawling on top of her when she pulled his shirt over his head as he tore the buttons off her waistcoat and wrapped his hand around her throat squeezing gently making her gasp.

She grabbed him by his head and slammed her mouth against his in a hungry kiss. He kissed back with equal hunger sliding his hands down her body before sliding her jeans down her legs, breaking the kiss he removed his own jeans before climbing back over to her, he made quick work of their underwear and he slid into her slowly, taking his time as y/n reached up and placed small kisses along his shoulders before he began thrusting into her at a steady pace as she held onto his shoulders.

Y/n gripped onto his shoulders digging her nails into his skin as he began to slam into her harder making her gasp and drag her nails halfway down his arms.

He groaned and collapsed on top of her pinning her beneath him and rammed into her wrapping her legs higher around his waist causing her to moan and jerk higher up the mattress and the bed frame to rock.

She flipped them onto his back and began to ride him and felt his hands run up her torso and grab her breasts roughly. She slammed her hips down on his making him grunt and rut his hips upwards to meet hers causing him to go deeper inside her.

He rolled them to the other side of the bed pinning her down on the mattress and slammed into her as her head hung over the side of the bed and carved his hips into hers going deep again making her groan.

He pulled her up by her neck and kissing her roughly as they came together in a sweaty panting mess as they fell back landing at the bottom of the bed tangled in the sheets.

He kissed and nipped along her collarbone and throat before burying his face against her neck clinging to her and breathing shakily.

Y/n caught her breath and ran her fingers through his hair wiping his damp curls from his face.

She listened and realised the music had stopped downstairs and everyone had left.

‘It’s gone quiet downstairs. I think everyone is gone.’

She felt him move against her neck and wrap his arm tighter around her waist cuddling into her.

‘I’m not moving. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.’

She nodded and lifted his head placing an open kiss against his lips and turned onto her stomach letting Timmy kiss her back and shoulder before laying his head on her mid back closing his eyes as they drifted off to sleep!

@sufferingstarlight

@gatoenlaciudad

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@tchalamss

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

I recently reread you REVENGERS show story and I just wanted to praise you about how incredibly well written and entertaining it is.

The asgardian funeral scene with "Æ og du" playing? GOLD. Literally made me tear up while reading it for like 7th time.

Loki using his magic to heal Thor's eye and just them TALKING?? On GOD that shit was beautiful! I LIVE for those two and their chaotic but loving sibling dynamic.

Eris being a buddy of Groot and Rocket? Fantastic! Gives her character so much rich history and makes her overall feel more connected and well-grounded in that universe. It's the little details man

And now to a personal highlight of the story to me:

The interactions between Loki and Bruce/Hulk.

Just the way Loki is weary of the Hulk, as is Banner of Loki, yet they still are low-key fascinated by each other. Like when Loki did a double take when Hulk told him he knows he's hiding something. Or when Banner was trying to make peace with Loki in the hallway and offered to be friends. They even somewhat care about each other's wellbeing to the point where Loki tries not to hurt Hulk when he... hulked-out and even APOLOGIZES to him for using the tesseract on him, or Bruce's first fear after waking up is that he may have killed Loki. They have such an interesting dynamic. Are they reluctant teammates? Are they starting to honestly care about each other? Who the hell knows! All I know is I'm rooting for Loki to find a friend that actually likes him for who he is. And if that friend happens to be Banner/Hulk, then that gets extra pluspoints from me. Can you imagine Tony's reaction to that tho?

AHHHH so okay first of all, thank you for this message, it made my morning. and it's beautifully timed because coincidentally, i ALSO just reread the entire revengers series! i've been trying to wrangle the remaining plot points into some kind of order where everything makes sense and flows in a satisfying way (like, i know almost everything that i want to happen, just not how and when to make it happen) but i think i'm finally making some headway!

re: the thor and loki talk, the very first moment of quiet in the plot came along and i was like AH YES finally time to address the fact that thor's best friends are all dead! but i liked making it not about heartache and grief so much as it was about remembrance, you know? i feel like asgardians have an interesting relationship with grief since, like, valhalla is supposedly a real actual place. it's just neat. and also obviously i needed an excuse for thor and loki to have a..... sort of genuine heart-to-heart. emotionally stunted brothers style, anyway

and maaan oh man i'm SO glad you like bruce and loki's interactions! because they've become some of my favorite scenes to write! loki was terrified of the hulk in ragnarok only to be like "hello bruce 😌" when he sees him next, which was fucking hilarious to me and absolutely required that i expand on these two. and for bruce it's like... you know when the brother of one of your closest friends is also the guy who was responsible for a literal mass casualty event in new york? the same guy that you then pounded into a tile floor like a pit bull with a stuffed animal? but he's, like, a god, so he survived and then he did some time in prison and now he's sort of on your guys' side and also living on a spaceship with you? yeah? you know that feeling? we've all been there, right?

here's the real question: was bruce's worry about whether he killed loki as the hulk about not wanting to kill anyone as the hulk, or was it because he's starting to genuinely care about loki's wellbeing? who knows! bruce certainly doesn't! regardless, they WILL be close friends by the end of spending nearly two years on a spaceship together. you really can't not, and they have so much in common! do you think loki might be able to relate to being something destructive and monstrous and terrifying? and hating that part of yourself and wanting to get rid of it? ugh god i have one line in particular that i've been sitting on and DYING to use between the two of them (fun fact: this line is the one that prompted a friend over DMs to say "sam i am chasing you with a knife" so. do with that what you will) and i swear it's coming.... eventually 👀

oh and tony WILL be completely and utterly gobsmacked by it lmao, they finally land on earth after two years and they're in the middle of introducing the Loki Problem™ to american (or norwegian?) authorities, and tony's there because it's avengers related so of course he's there, and loki says some offhand thing under his breath that makes bruce just fucking lose it, like, choking trying not to laugh in the middle of this very important diplomatic meeting and tony's like. oh sure, the mass murderer is funny now. he tells jokes. cool. cool cool cool hey, just wondering, did i enter an alternate reality just now? am i finally losing it? bruce? had any weird interactions with a mind stone lately? buddy? the fuck?

anyway. yeah. i'm itching to write more of this, and trust me, i have been :)

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 21 | Uninvited Judgements

summary: you were invited to a party by one of your friends, of course you brought Matt, your boyfriend along despite him being slightly younger, everything was going by smoothly and everyone was having great fun until you went out to the bathroom and when you came back you saw your drunken friends surrounding Matt, not suggesting anything good by their loud laughter…

warnings: ANGST, heavy language, arguing, party setting, drunk guests, bullying, age discrimination, age gap, all of the drinking characters are of age please drink responsibly and be aware of the possible consequences! & possibly more

authors note: nnn is soon coming to an end and the Christmas season will start which means… more Christmas fics! (And more smut) I am already feeling the spirit and love this season so much, also sorry for not posting this fic when I was supposed to but something personal happened and I couldn’t finish it that day and I hope y’all understand , but anyway luv y’all sm and hope y’all enjoy this one

The music bounced through the walls of the small apartment, a vibrant background to the laughter and conversation that filled the air. Matt adjusted the collar of his shirt, visibly feeling a little self-conscious under his excitement. He was still getting used to being around my friends, most of them were several years older than him. We had been dating for a few months now and while I loved spending time with him, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was still trying to prove himself.

I took his hand and squeezing it gently. “I’ll just be gone a minute,” I said, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Just need to use the bathroom. You okay to hang out here?” “Yeah, I’m good,” he replied, forcing a smile. “I’ll grab a soda or something.” As I slipped away into the crowded bathroom, Matt leaned against the counter and glanced around. Most of the partygoers were off in groups, cups in hand and laughter mixing with the music. He was about to reach for a drink when he noticed a couple of my friends gathering near him, their faces flushed and attitude high from the alcohol they have consumed.

“Look who it is!” one of my friends Mary slurred, her eyes shining with mischief. “Little Matt. What’s he doing here all by himself? Waiting for his mom to pick him up?” Matt felt heat rush to his cheeks, an uncomfortable mix of embarrassment and irritation. “I’m fine,” he muttered, trying to brush off the comments but the lack of a reaction from him it only encouraged the others. “Oh come on!” another friend chimed in with her laughter ringing loud. “You’re dating a woman who could practically be your aunt! What is she like, 25?” The group burst into drunk giggles, clearly enjoying the show of the younger guy, considering him as an easy target.

Matt clenched his fists at his sides, feeling a swirl of emotions and his gut twisted in upset. The teasing only got worse, the insults sharper, the references to our age gap digging deeper until he just couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’m not a kid for gods sake,” he shot back but his voice barely cut through the intense crowd. Their laughter only grew louder, cutting off his words. When I finally returned with a bright smile lighting my face while Matt was the opposite, livid and his skin prickling with anger. I noticed the tension immediately as I maneuvered through the crowd toward him.

“Everything okay?” I asked concerned looking from him to my drunken friends who had just finished their turn of jokes. “They think it’s hilarious that I’m younger,” he said, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice. “Why do you even hang out with people who think it’s okay to make fun of someone like that?” I looked caught off guard while blinking rapidly. “I don’t think they meant anything by it, Matt. They were drunk and you know how that goes. They joke around, they don’t always know where to draw the line.” “A line?” he snapped and frustration spilling out of his expression. “It feels fucking disrespectful to make jokes about someone’s age! Like I’m some boy toy you’re just playing around with. Do you think I like being the center of their jokes?”

“Matt, just chill out for a second,” I ushed, raising your hands for him to calm down. “You know they didn’t mean for it to hurt you. It’s just banter! They were drunk—” “No, it’s not just banter!” he raised his voice louder than he intended. “It’s condescending and you’re just brushing it off like it doesn’t matter!” I felt my heart racing, a mixture of anger and hurt beginning to swirl in my veins “You’re making a huge deal out of this. They’re not bad people, they were having a good time! You can’t just get upset over everything people say when they’re drinking!” “It’s not ‘everything’! It’s just this! Ugh!” he exclaims, frustration lacing every syllable that left past his mouth. “Sometimes I feel like you don’t even see how it affects me. You just make excuses for them.” With that, one of my friends—a guy named Jake who had been listening nearby—snorted. “Who knew Matt had such thin skin? Can’t handle a little fun?”

Matt’s gaze flicked toward Jake, becoming stiff in his stance. “And you’re an ass.” “That’s rich, coming from someone who’s basically a kid,” Jake retorted and shaking his head. “Matt, just ignore him,” I pleaded but he was too far gone now. “No, fuck this…” he muttered, stepping away from the group who had been laughing at his expense. He turned to me with his eyes blazing. “I’m not playing this game. I’m not gonna sit here and take your friends’ bullshit. I’m done.” Before I could get a single word out past my lips, Matt turned on his heel and moved toward the exit, the door slamming behind him. The sound echoed in the now silent apartment as everyone exchanged glances, the party suddenly feeling much less exciting.

I tried to process what had just happened, a storm of emotions swirling inside of me. My friends still buzzing from the drinks, didn’t have the capacity to understand. They were just drunk and careless. But Matt? His feelings were painfully real and visible for anyone and my heart sank knowing I would have to find him and somehow make sense of this mess my drunk friends have put me in now.

@hearts4werka |

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 🏷️ | @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknott - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - @sturniolosiphone - @sophand4n4 - @zombiesturniolo - @luvleyangeldust |

[starryhyuck]

gentle touch. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: camboy!yuta x afab!pornstar!reader

words: 3.1k+

summary: you need someone to give you an orgasm. anyone will do, even a random camboy.

genre: smut

warnings: reader is a big name pornstar, yuta is a solo camboy, fingering, nipple play, squirting, anal play, creampie

this fic is exclusive to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

“S-Star?”

Your head snaps up at the sound of the name since you usually hear it falling as a moan from a stranger’s mouth. A man stands above you, jaw dropped open at the sight of you.

You’ve been through this before, so you flash a rehearsed smile at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m meeting someone for lunch. Would you like a quick photo-“

“I-I’m the camboy,” he interrupts you, blinking warily. “Were you the one I’ve been speaking with online?”

“Oh,” you say shyly. “Yes, that would be me. It’s nice to meet you, um-“

“Yuta,” he finishes. You gesture to the seat across from you in this private coffee shop and he stumbles to take it. He grins nervously. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say your stage name out loud like that. I was just shocked, that’s all. I mean, you’re one of the biggest pornstars in the industry.”

You laugh. You hope he’s not planning on making fun of you now that he knows this is clearly below your pay grade. You decide to be frank with him since the cat’s out of the bag.

“Well, if I’m being honest, I’ve been having a lot of trouble with my work lately. I’m stuck in a rut in terms of my orgasms, and I haven’t properly been satisfied by someone else’s touch in months. It’s why I responded to your ad. I’m hoping you can shake me out of this dry spell.”

He mulls over your words, seemingly pulling himself out of the starstruck expression he had on moments earlier. He studies you carefully before humming softly.

“I’d be happy to help you. I can’t say I’m all that confident in getting the Star to fall apart in my bed, but I’m very willing to try.”

You giggle. “I appreciate that. So tell me about being a camboy, how is it different? I’m really not familiar with that scene.”

He shrugs mindlessly. “For starters, we don’t require any of that fancy equipment they use on sets. Just a phone camera operates completely fine. And I think most of the couple videos I’ve seen draw down to the intimacy of it — if you don’t mind me saying, I believe that’s what you’ve been missing from your career. You don’t feel anything towards the people you’re fucking. You show up, the director tells you what to do, then you go home.”

You frown. “And being a camboy is the opposite of that?”

“You could say that. The audience who watch amateur couple videos don’t want to hear fake moans and perfect lighting. They want to see a real couple fucking like animals because they have a true carnal desire for the other. I don’t want anything to be a lie in my video. If something’s not working for you, I want you to tell me.”

You raise an eyebrow. Judging by the stern look on Yuta’s face, you gather that he’s deadly serious about this. You’ve never had a co-star be so concerned about your pleasure. The contract they receive doesn’t have an underlying clause that states you need to feel good in order for them to get paid, so it normally isn’t their first priority. As long as the camera gets a good cum shot and a smile on your face, everything else is golden.

“I can do that. So should we head back to your place?”

“Y-You want to film it tonight?”

“It’s been months, Yuta. I can’t wait any longer or I’ll explode.”

want to read the rest? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Kinktober 2024

Day 26: Corruption

Mark Lee x Reader Word Count: 2,905 THIS FIC IS NSFW, MINORS DNI!!! Warnings: Religious themes, church boy!Mark x pastor's daughter!reader, kind of soft dom!reader, mentions of masturbation, loss of virginity, mentions of alcohol (reader and Mark are SOBER when they have sex!), semi-public sex (they're technically in public but no one is around to see), sex in the bed of a pickup truck. If you think I missed a warning, let me know! A/N: If you want to be tagged for the last few Kinktober fics, feel free to send an ask, send a dm, or leave a comment! I'm honestly starting to get a little bit bummed that Kinktober is almost over. This has been such a fun ride, and it always makes me so happy to see y'all interact with my stories. I also wanted to say that certain plot elements as well as Reader's personality/family life are heavily inspired by the song "Baptist Parking Lot" by Mary Heather Hickman. If you're a country music fan, I highly recommend checking it out!

Taglist: @unlikelysublimekryptonite

Fic is under the cut.

When Mark Lee approached you and asked you if you wanted to go on a date with him, you knew that your parents were behind it. They had been a lot pushier than usual when it came to your relationships lately, considering you were in your mid-twenties and not even dating. Plus, your mother and father were good friends with Mr. and Mrs. Lee, and had been since you were a kid, so in their mind Mark was the best possible choice when it came to men that they could set you up with.

You had never been close with Mark, but your parents and his were determined to change that. Mark was the kind of good Christian man that they felt was perfect for the daughter of a minister. He was kind, he was intelligent, and he loved God. Any time the church held an event he was one of the first to volunteer to help. He knew the Bible better than anyone you knew with the exception of your father. He was also an assistant youth pastor that was passionate about teaching people about the love of God. He even volunteered at an animal shelter, for fuck’s sake.

You, on the other hand, were far less innocent than you let your parents believe. You drank, smoked, went to the club, and hooked up with people you barely knew. Your behavior was far from what was expected of you, but that was probably why you acted the way you did. Growing up as sheltered as you did was suffocating, and now that you were an adult you wanted to do everything that your parents would have killed you for when you were younger. That didn’t mean they had to know, though. What would the congregation say if they knew the pastor’s own daughter acted like the exact opposite of what God expected from women?

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Mark’s voice saying, “Hello? Earth to (Y/N)?”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Do you want to go get dinner with me this Saturday after I get done at the shelter?”

“That sounds great, Mark. What time do you get done?”

“I get done around 5, and I’ll need time to get ready. How does 6:15 sound?”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then, (Y/N).”

When you said yes to a date, Mark was ecstatic. Sure, he had been encouraged to ask you out by your parents, but he had liked you for a long time. You were intelligent, you were funny, and you always spoke your mind. It was sinful, and he knew it, but he honestly thought that you were sexy too. The thoughts never lingered, more passing interest when you wore clothes that showed off your body, but they were there, nonetheless.

Saturday came, and you almost backed out of your date with Mark. The main reason you didn’t was the fact that you knew you’d never hear the end of it if you did. Truthfully, though, you would have preferred going to the club with your friends or getting drunk in the back of your current hookup’s truck. You had an image to maintain, however, so you went.

Contrary to what you were expecting, you had a lot of fun with Mark. He took you to a sort-of fancy restaurant out of town, and you talked about your lives and interests while you ate. You found that the two of you had more in common than you initially thought, like a love for older music and weird movies that no one else has ever heard of. He even made you swear not to tell anyone that he wanted to try going out to a club. In a lapse of judgement, you said, “I could take you out to my favorite one, if you want.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. The regret turned to excitement, however, when Mark said “Ok. Do you wanna do that after we’re done here?”

“Are you sure? I mean, I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I think it’d be fun to try something new.”

His innocent excitement killed you. When he asked you if you thought that they would have Coca-Cola at the bar, you wondered if he could get any cuter. As the two of you finished your meal, you asked again if he was sure about going to the club. He said yes, and you told him you would give him directions when you got in the car.

When Mark walked you to his car, he held your hand. It was a small gesture, but you found yourself getting flustered. He opened the car door for you, and your heart did a somersault. It almost made you wonder why you bothered with hooking up with random guys when somebody that you knew could be good to you was there the entire time.

The drive to the club was silent with the exception of you giving Mark directions. You both wanted to start a conversation, but for some reason you couldn’t find where you wanted to start. It was frustrating to be at a loss for words, but you couldn’t complain. Especially when Mark looked as good as he did in the driver’s seat. You almost felt wrong saying it about someone so sweet, but he looked hot when he focused on driving. As you pulled up to the club, you wondered if you would ever get a chance to show him how sexy you were starting to think he was. You knew that he was a good Christian, so you probably wouldn’t get a chance any time soon, but you wondered if you could move that timeline up a bit.

Your time at the club was uneventful. Mark refused to drink alcohol, was shy about dancing with you, and cast judgmental looks at everyone that left with a different person than they’d arrived with. You tried to gently encourage him to lighten up and let loose a little bit, but in the end he just asked to go back home.

He drove you back to your apartment, and you thanked him for the date. He insisted on walking you to your door, but you wouldn’t have turned him down anyway. When the two of you got to your door, he shyly asked if he could kiss you. You agreed, and he hesitantly brought his lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently tangled your hands in his hair, and he loosened up ever so slightly. At least, it seemed like he did from the small moan that left his mouth.

He abruptly pulled away and apologized, and you gave him a reassuring smile and told him that it was ok. He left quickly and hoped that you didn’t notice the grin on his face or the boner beginning to form in his pants. Of course, you did, and you wondered if your goal of getting Mark to loosen up was closer than you thought.

The next day, your parents asked you how the date with Mark went. You told them that it went well, and to your surprise, you weren’t lying. You had fun with Mark, and you wanted to see him again. Sure, part of the reason you wanted to see him again was to see if you could teach him how to actually have fun, but your parents didn’t need to know that. They were thrilled that you seemed interested in who they believed was the right kind of man for you.

Over the next few weeks, you went out for dinner with Mark every weekend. Not much changed, but you did flirt with him much more openly than you initially wanted to as you started to develop genuine feelings for him. He became a blushy mess every time you told him how pretty his eyes were, or how well the clothes he was wearing fit him.

Mark refused to admit it, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep a level head when you flirted with him or kissed him. He didn’t want to sin, but he did occasionally find himself wanting to do more than kiss you or compliment the dresses you wore for your dates that drove him insane. You were usually dressed a very specific way when he saw you at church, but the way you dressed when you were out of your parents’ view was decidedly different. Not that he was complaining, of course. He thought that you looked sexy. Little did he know, that was exactly what you were going for.

The first time your attempt to get Mark to let loose was successful was after a few months of dating. The two of you were at his apartment after an afternoon spent volunteering, and he kissed you. You were determined to not push him today, and you kept to that. Mark, however, had other plans. The way he kissed you felt different than usual. Typically, his kisses were soft, almost like he was afraid of going too far. This time, those concerns seemed to go out the window as he held you close.

To say that you were desperate was an understatement. You hadn’t had sex with anyone else since you started dating Mark, and you were starting to get frustrated. You had tried getting off by yourself, but it just wasn’t the same as fucking another person. It was getting more and more difficult to not think about Mark on top of you as you kissed him.

Mark was just as desperate as you were, if not more. He had never had sex before. Partially because of the stupid purity promise he made in church as a teenager, and partially because he had never met anyone that he was comfortable being so intimate with. That was, until you came along. It felt like you were ruining him, in a way. Before you started dating, he would have never considered having someone sit on his lap while making out. Now, that was exactly what the two of you were doing.

Time passed, and you had to leave. It was important for you to get enough sleep in order to not look like a complete wreck at church on Sunday. As you left, though, Mark asked you if you would be willing to try something new next time. You asked him what it was, and he said, “I want you to take my virginity.” You were shocked, but you agreed. The two of you decided to discuss exactly when at a later date, and you went back to your apartment.

Church went by the next morning without any major news or events, except for one thing. Mark was uncharacteristically awkward and shy around you. Since you had started dating, he had made a point to sit next to you, sometimes holding your hand during your father’s sermons. Today, however, he sat on the opposite side of the sanctuary from you, not even looking you in the eye when you greeted him upon arriving. You decided to ask him about his behavior after service.

When you finally found Mark, you asked him if he wanted to come back to your apartment. He reluctantly agreed, and you left. He followed in his truck, and when he entered your apartment, you asked him why he was so distant at church.

He sighed before answering, “I’m sorry about what I asked of you last night. It was too far, and I understand if you want to break things off or slow things down.”

“Baby, it’s ok. Any reaction that you saw last night was surprise. As long as it’s something you really want, I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t mind the fact that I’m not a virgin.”

“I don’t mind at all. I love you. Thank you for being so patient with me.”

“I love you, too.”

The two of you spent the afternoon discussing when you would take Mark’s virginity. Your previous sexual encounters had never been planned in advance, but you wanted Mark to feel more at ease about his first time. In the end, the two of you decided to drive to an abandoned parking lot a few towns over, so no one would know what the two of you were skipping Bible study on Wednesday to do. You even came up with a lie about being invited by a friend to visit another church that you could tell your parents to explain your absence.

The idea of skipping church to lose his virginity should have disgusted Mark, but in actuality, it thrilled him. Maybe you had been a worse influence than he thought. He didn’t really care about that, though. All he knew was that he loved and trusted you, and he wanted to show you just how much he loved and trusted you.

When the day finally came, the two of you were filled with excitement. You went about most of your day as usual, but after you got done work, you drove to the abandoned parking lot that you’d told Mark about. He did the same, and the two of you settled into the bed of his truck. Bless him, he’d even covered it with blankets and pillows to make you more comfortable.

When Mark kissed you, you couldn’t help but tangle your hands in his hair. He groaned at the sensation, and it made you want him. To be fair, you always wanted him, but in the moment, he was all you could think about. If the way he kissed you was any indication, he needed you just as badly.

After a few minutes, you pulled away and started kissing Mark’s neck. He moaned again, and you only got more desperate for him. It wasn’t long before you couldn’t take it anymore, so you lifted your head and asked Mark if he still wanted to go further. He seemed nervous, but his excitement as he said yes made you feel better about the situation. He shyly explained that he didn’t really know what he was doing, and you promised to help him the entire time.

You started by unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his boxers down. Then you lifted your dress and removed your own underwear. After that, you settled into a comfortable position and instructed him to climb on top of you. He did exactly as he was told, and you helped him guide his cock into your pussy for the first time.

The moan that fell from Mark’s lips as he felt you for the first time was heavenly. You desperately wanted to hear more, but you still told him to wait before he moved so both of you could adjust. Again, he did exactly as you asked. It was honestly kind of adorable how eager he was to please you.

Once you were ready, you gently instructed Mark to move. He started to slowly thrust in and out trying to avoid overwhelming himself right away. He loved you, and he wanted to make this last. You couldn’t help but want the same, slightly overwhelmed already by the amount of love and care he was showing you. It may have been frustrating to wait so long to have sex with Mark, but the wait was worth it. This was infinitely better than the cheap hookups you’d had before.

After a few minutes, Mark started to thrust slightly faster. When he saw the way your tits bounced, it was difficult for him to control himself. Still, he kept a steady pace as he fucked into you. Sex with you was the most pleasure that he’d ever felt. Sure, he had jerked off a handful of times, though he was embarrassed to admit to that, but his hand could never compare to you.

It didn’t take long for Mark to feel an orgasm approaching, though he tried as hard as he could to last. He slowed down slightly once he felt it, but that did the opposite of what he wanted. Rather than putting off his orgasm, it only brought him closer to the brink. He hurriedly warned you that he was close and asked you what to do now. You said, “Cum inside me, baby. It’s ok.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Mark stilled inside you, moaning your name as he rode out his orgasm. Feeling Mark’s release triggered your own, and before you knew it you were clenching around his cock as you cried out in pleasure. He was still after you both came down from your highs, reveling in the closeness of the moment. The position had gotten uncomfortable, however, so you gently asked him to move.

Mark did as he was told, finding a sort-of clean towel in the back of his truck to wipe you and himself off with. You put your clothes back on and helped him to do the same. Then the two of you just held each other, saying nothing but knowing that this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you had sex in his truck when you were supposed to be in church. As he held you close, you couldn’t help but feel proud of the fact that you had helped Mark Lee loosen up and learn to have some fun.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to see what else I've written so far and the rest of what's planned, you can find my Kinktober masterlist here. If you'd like to read one of my non-Kinktober works, you can find my general masterlist here. If you'd like to see what I'm going to be working on once Kinktober is over, you can find my upcoming works here. If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you'd like to see, send a request via asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading, happy spooky season!

[thelov3lybookworm]

You Think I Wanted This?

Summary: The king does not care for anyone's opinion but his own, and he is being entirely serious.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: first fic for fourth wing 🥳 as y'all know, all that goes through my mind is forced marriage trope, so...😏

Enjoy my babies! ❣️

（づ￣3￣）づ╭❤️～

•○🌑○•

The day was gloomy, and thunder had been cracking until an hour ago.

Y/n was grateful it had stopped, as she could continue studying without flinching every few moments. She had an important test coming up, and being King Tauri's only daughter, she had the pressure of getting good grades on her shoulders.

If only to show the people not everyone a failure in the royal family.

Y/n sighed, setting her pen down and rubbing her eyes with cramping fingers.

It was getting dark, and soon she would leave for having dinner with her family.

A knock drew Y/n from screwing her eyes out, and she called out to let them in.

Her older brother, Halden, stepped in, smiling. "How are you today sister?"

"Tired. You?"

"I'm good. You have been summoned. Father wants to meet you in his private office."

Y/n's brows furrowed. What could he want from me?

It was almost never that her father summoned his kids, and when he did, it was rarely in his private office. Those were for important matters, and he deemed his children... not important.

Y/n stood, closing her book and turning to her brother, stretching slightly. "Do you know why he has summoned me?"

He shook his head. "No idea."

"It can't be good." She mumbled, glancing into the full length mirror that took up half of the wall opposite her bed to make sure she was in an attire considered appropriate for court meetings or formal business, then followed her brother out of her room.

He was the second oldest of all the kids the king had, with Y/n being the third and Cam being the fourth, who was away in the rider's quadrant.

Y/n envied him.

"If it helps, I saw a few authorities and riders entering the office when he told me to retrieve you."

Y/n frowned, falling in step next to Halden. "That did not help."

He gave her a helpless smile. "My apologies then, princess."

She rolled her eyes, though a smile made its way onto her face. She wrapped a hand around his arm, hoping whatever the matter was, it was nothing grave.

•○🌑○•

Y/n paused outside her father's office, tugging her brother to a stop, who turned to her with furrowed brows.

"What is it?"

She placed a finger against her lips, nodding towards the two people standing nearby, whispering to each other furiously, obviously locked in a heated discussion.

Halden's eyes narrowed. He nodded to the empty spaces next to the door, which was suspicious too, considering there should have been two guards on duty manning the door.

Y/n turned away, staring at the ornately carved door to her father's office. She decided it was worth the risk, and slowly pressed her ear to the wood.

The voices were faint, but she could make out the words.

"So you want to... what? Separate Riorson and your daughter?" That was definitely her father.

"Yes, your majesty."

"And why is that?"

"Because bonded to two of the most powerful dragons, they have the power to overthrow you. And I still don't trust the Riorson boy." It was the voice of a female, and Y/n felt like she knew who it was, but she couldn't place the voice.

"But wouldn't acting on your plan put him closer to me, and indirectly give him access to more resources to take over?" His voice was sceptical, and Y/n wondered who this woman was.

"No, your majesty. Away from my daughter, he would be weaker than if with her, and you yourself know how dangerous they can be together."

Y/n heard her father sigh, but before she could hear his response, someone touched her back, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

She whipped around, holding back a yelp, and glared at a grinning Halden.

"What?" She snapped.

"Did I scare you, Y/n?"

She slapped his arm, huffing, annoyed that he found her amusing.

His smile faded, though, as he glanced towards the two people nearby.

That was when Y/n noticed that they were staring at her and Halden, having walked closer while Y/n had been eavesdropping.

Y/n's eyes snagged on the man, his muscular arms wrapped across his chest. He was gorgeous, and Y/n wondered if he was even real. Because, surely, someone could not be this handsome, right?

Or maybe the gods simply deemed him their favourite.

Y/n blinked when someone moved in her periphery, realising she was staring, and swiftly looked away, heat rising to her cheeks.

A moment later, Y/n decided to glance at the two people again, noting that the other one was a female.

Her brows furrowed as she eyed the braid hanging over the girl's shoulder, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Y/n knew that she had met this girl.

Y/n cocked her head at the possessiveness in her eyes.

"I feel like we've met before. Have we?" Y/n questioned.

"On a couple of occasions, yes, we've met. I'm Violet."

It took Y/n a moment to place the name.

"Violet... Violet Sorrengail?"

Violet nodded, her hand coming to rest on the man's bicep. "And this is Xaden Riorson."

"Fen Riorson's son." Halden murmured.

A weird feeling spread through Y/n. "You are the Riorson boy they are talking about?"

His eyebrows- one scarred- rose, and Y/n realised she was the only one who heard the conversation going on on the other side of the door.

She swallowed, glancing at her brother before addressing Violet. "Is your mother in there?"

"Yes." Violet's eyes were filled with confusion.

"And are you and Riorson involved... in any way?"

"I- Yes?" Violet whispered, her eyes wide. "How did you know?"

Y/n sighed, horrified. "Did you tell your mother about it?"

"No. But what are you getting at?"

"Obviously, you saw me trying to listen in. Your mother was talking about separating you two."

Everyone's jaw dropped open, and this time Riorson spoke up. "They- no one knows though, and those who do would never betray us."

His voice did something to Y/n, but she reminded herself that he was unavailable. And he was also not the type of man she would go for anyways.

"Well, they know. Surely something might have happened, and she made that connection. Whatever it is, they are planning to-"

Halden's fingers wrapped around Y/n's arm suddenly, and he pulled her closer and turned her to face the door a moment before the door actually opened.

There, stood General Sorrengail, Violet's mother, and she simply ignored her daughter and Riorson, meeting the eyes of Y/n and Halden, bowing her head in deference, as was necessary.

"Prince, princess. Your father awaits your presence."

She held open the door as Halden and Y/n shuffled in, then beckoned the other two inside.

The office was massive, though sparsely furnished.

"Father." Halden bowed at the waist, and Y/n curtsied.

"I am assuming you have met Riorson here. I have summoned you here today because I have news for you."

Everyone stayed silent, anticipation building in the air.

"As we all know Riorson has dedicated his life to our kingdom and has promised he has only our best interests at heart, has proved time and time that he is willing to do anything for our kingdom."

Y/n held her breath, her gut telling her this was not going to be good.

"So in reward, I will marry my daughter to you, Xaden Riorson."

Y/n's heart stopped beating for a moment, before starting up again at a speed she failed to count, and Y/n wondered if it would gallop out of her chest entirely.

"You can't be fucking serious." Violet blurt out, then her wide eyes stare swung to her mother, who smiled sligtly.

"We are entirely serious, rider." The king said, his expression saying all about how displeased he was about her outburst.

He then turned to Y/n and Halden, his brows rising.

"You better start preparing. The wedding will be in two days' time."

And they were dismissed.

Y/n didn't miss the disbelieving look thrown her way by both Violet and Xaden, but she was not going to argue with her father.

They didn't know what would happen if she did, and she was in no mood to speak out when she could not form a single coherent thought that was not I hate him.

•○🌑○•

@bubybubsters @artists-ally here it is, the fic i was telling you about 😏

(Not tagging others in case they havent read fourth wing and dont wanna be tagged 😉)

[demibats]

how to survive a horror movie - the first to go. . .

we aren't gonna talk about the fact that it took me an entire year to revisit this fic and post the first chapter ok? but without further ado, WE ARE SO BACK. give the masterlist a visit for context if you'd like <3 -demi xx chapter warnings: weed mention, brief description of homic*de and violence. minors do not interact!

word count: 3.4k

July 1991.

You’re practically being boiled alive in the tin can castle known as Munson Manor. The Indiana heat isn’t the awful part, but the humidity has you and everyone else in Hawkins choking on the air. The measly little air conditioner situated in one of the living room windows is working overtime to cool off the small trailer to no avail. You and Eddie lay on the floor, staring up at his ceiling, opposite of one another. He turned his head to look over at you, but your eyes are closed, trying to think of anything but the heat. You can feel his heavy stare on you, but you keep your eyes closed, knowing that the blood would rush to both of your cheeks if you caught him staring. 

“It’s hotter than Satan’s ass crack outside, can’t we go swimming or somethin’?” Eddie complains next to you, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

You take this as an appropriate cue to open your eyes and turn to him, watching him writhe in the uncomfortable temperature. It makes you chuckle a little, examining the way his ‘Slayer’ muscle tank sticks to his torso from sweat. 

“I recommended that two hours ago and you whined at that too,” you challenge, resting your hands on your stomach, folded neatly there. Eddie shifts, taking his hands away from his eyes, those chocolate buttons fixating onto your gaze.

“The people of Hawkins don’t deserve to see what I’ve got underneath the denim and leather, sweetheart, but I’m bakin’ like a pie and I’ve already undressed to my comfort level.” He sounds too much like some kind of massage therapist as he says that last part, earning another breathy giggle from you. 

Your gaze lingers too long on his cut-off jeans, muscle tank, and bunched up crew socks that he ends up snapping his fingers in front of you, “Hellooooooo? Do I need to adjust the antennas on this thing?” He teases, gesturing to the top of your head as if it’s his old television. 

Waving him off, you push yourself onto your elbows, then off the cool carpet you’d been laying atop of for the last few hours, trying to will the heat away with Eddie at your side. He scrambles to his feet as well, long limbs making him look less like an agile ballerina and more like a newborn giraffe. All leg, no coordination. 

“I’ll give Robs and Steve a call, see if either of them can get a hold of Jonathan and Nance. You can be in charge of recruiting Argyle,” as you give him his set of instructions, he pushes his bottom lip out in a faux pout, “Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, they don’t work on me anymore, Munson.”

He mumbles something along the lines of ‘they used to’ before heading toward the front door, the jingling of his keychain making you turn your head toward him, his landline nestled between your ear and shoulder, “Make sure he brings sunscreen this time and not just pizza nachos!”

“I’ll make sure he brings both!” Eddie quips before the door is closed between the two of you.

. . . 

Hawkins Community Pool is always packed during the summer. It’s the one reliable spot to cool off, unless you prefer the hose from your backyard. The poolside is lined with women in bikinis, magazine in hand and sunglasses shading their eyes from the harsh light of the midday sun. Kids splash around in the pool, being scolded by lifeguards being underpaid to make sure none of the little shitheads drown. It's the picture perfect scenery for a small midwest town summer. 

Sitting at the edge of the pool, your legs barely in the water, you sway your feet and the crystalline liquid ripples around you. Jonathan and Argyle are two knuckles deep in pizza nachos, a delicacy only the ladder’s cannabis-coated mind could craft. Underneath your dark shades, you lift your gaze over to watch Eddie in the pool with Robin on his shoulders, Nancy on Steve’s as they poorly attempt a game of ‘Chicken’, before one of the lifeguards beckons them to stop. 

After getting reprimanded by the pool police, Eddie hangs his head in pretend shame as he slides next to you at the pool’s edge , the ends of his curls wet and dripping onto his shoulders. “I bet you could’ve knocked Nance over. Robin’s too soft to head into a brutal ‘Chicken’ battle and win.” He says this because he knows it to be true, although you aren’t so sure.

“I’m surprised Robin was being so nervous about it.” You respond coyly, pretending like neither of you know about Robin’s enormous crush on Nancy. 

Disregarding the conversation about Robin and Nance, Eddie looks around the pool at the moms helping their kids towel-dry off and the meatheads and their girlfriends either arguing or borderline fucking poolside. It makes his skin crawl a bit to see such blatant public displays of affection. 

However, you think otherwise. It might be nice to have someone dote on you the way some of the boys of Hawkins do to their girlfriends. Maybe not the kind of boy like Tommy Hagan or Billy Hargrove, but someone like— 

“Hey! Come play Marco Polo with us!” Steve shouts, Robin and Nancy wading around him like sharks circling their prey. 

Eddie immediately slides back into the water, but he’s facing you, droplets sliding down his tattooed skin, glistening in the sunlight, “Come on, it’s not every day you get to see how oblivious Steve is to echolocation.” He chides, bringing a ring-adorned hand up to rest on top of your knee. His gesture sends a shiver up your spine, but you nod, more excited than you should be about the prospect of playing Marco Polo. But truthfully, you know why you're vibrating with joy.

The first two games are way too easy. Robin is Marco the first round and finds Eddie first, bumbling around the water like a scared duck. Once Eddie is Marco, he finds Steve and nearly drowns him, causing the lifeguard to give Eddie a final warning. When Steve is Marco, he can’t find a single one of you to save his life. 

“You suck at this, Steve!” Robin shouts from her spot. Nancy even tries splashing water at Steve to make him find her easier, but to no avail. Eddie has half a mind to try to drown him again. You wade around, trying to stay away from the other three stooges, especially since they’re actively trying to get Steve to catch them. It’s amusing, watching the four of them seem so carefree. 

Marco Polo ends on a high note, Steve finally finding Nancy (by accident). The five of you exit the pool to reapply sunscreen and try to pick at the crumbs of the pizza nachos, but the two megastoners have demolished more than half of them. The heat and water games have you exhausted, skin dry and pruning from the chlorine water. You slip your plastic flip flops on, your towel still wrapped around your torso. 

“Credit where credit is due, it was a genius idea to go to the pool today,” Eddie compliments, drying his frizzing curls with an old Power Rangers towel, “Wanna ditch these crazies and get a slushee?”

. . .

Eddie convinces Nancy to load the whole gaggle of twenty-somethings into her station wagon while you and Eddie leave from Hawkins Community Pool early. She agrees with a roll of her eyes before she’s back in the pool with Robin and Argyle as she tries to explain how to play mermaids to the long-haired boy. 

Your thighs stick together in the heat of his van, the chlorine-water creating a layer of discomfort against your skin. You try not to squirm in the seat, flesh itching from the pool drying out your pores. After shoving miscellaneous items into the already packed and trashed back of his van, Eddie most elegantly thrashes into the driver’s seat, his typical dopey grin seated perfectly on his pink lips. He’s fumbling for a tape to slide into his player, realizing how disorganized his music collection is, he laughs at himself, “Maybe I’ll have Robin organize these by alphabetical order or somethin’, Jesus.”

“Do that and she may try to sneak some Madonna,” You quip, thinking about Eddie’s disgruntled disagreements with Robin about her taste in music. 

Turning around, his arm reaching around the back of the passenger seat, he cranes his neck and torso to look back as he backs out of his parking spot. There’s something about this gesture, something so simple and plain, that makes your cheeks burn. He doesn’t see this, but he notices how you straighten your back up into your seat as you turn to look out the window, “You’re good on this side,” you offer.

“I know, sweetheart, I’ve got us covered.”

Eddie’s not the best driver, but he’s confident and has always kept you safe when you’re riding shotgun. He’s even let you pick the music that plays, despite his limited options, leaning toward 80’s thrash metal more than anything else, but it’s grown on you. 

The drive to 7/11 is about fifteen minutes, give or take. The sun is fading behind the tree line, the bright orange orb glowing beneath, creating a silhouette of twisted tree limbs. It’s as haunting as it is beautiful. Eddie drums along the steering wheel with the beat to ‘Sweet Leaf’, his hair still dripping onto his muscle tank. 

You adjust the flimsy cover over your bathing suit, trying to find a more comfortable spot in your seat. Eddie turns into the parking lot to the 7/11, pulling up right in front of the doors. You’re quick to unbuckle your seatbelt, but Eddie is quicker, hopping out of his driver’s seat to run around the hood of his van, opening your door for you, “M’lady,” he purrs, offering his tattooed hand out to you. 

You take it with a gentle courtesy, “M’lord,” you respond as you jump onto the pavement, your flip flops clapping against your heels as you do so. 

“I’ve always pictured myself as the court jester. Yknow, fuckin’ around and makin’ a fool outta myself just because I can.” He opens the door to the mini mart for you as well, earning a hushed ‘thank you’ from you. 

You laugh at his comment, reflecting on his words, “Don’t you do that anyway?”

“I’m taking that as a compliment, so thank you.” Eddie’s tone is a bit sassy , assuming you meant your comment to be an insult, but it is in fact a compliment. 

The 7/11 is desolate, with the exception of one customer talking to the sole cashier who looks bored out of her mind. She’s twirling her red curls around her fingers, popping bubblegum between her lips as the middle-aged man in a baseball cap tries to flirt with her to no avail. Meandering through the maze of aisles, Eddie snags a bag of chips off the shelf before skipping up to the slushee machine, “What flavor of tooth-rotting sugar can I interest you in today?” He jests, eyes fixated on the sloshing colored ice in the machine.

Aftering pondering over the two options you have, cherry and blue raspberry, you decide to mix the two flavors, Eddie following suit. Walking through the sweet treats aisle, eyes scamming over the packaging to see if anything in particular looks good, the two of you head to the register, seeing that the man flirting with the cashier had left. Offering a smile to the ginger behind the counter, who’s name appears to be ‘Barb’ from her nametag, Eddie chats her up a bit, asking how her shift is going and commenting on the weather finally cooling down. She responds blandly, while ringing up the slushees. You reach for your wallet but Eddie’s already handing over bills from his own wallet. Always one step ahead. 

The bell above the door dings as you exit, Eddie holding it open for you as you step outside, a skip in your step, “I think her and Nancy used to be friends,” Eddie chides as the door closes, “She was in school with us.”

You nod, agreeing and acknowledging, “Yeah, I never got the full story out of Nance, but they had a falling out.”

The conversation ends there as the two of you climb back into Eddie’s van, treats finally acquired, mission accomplished. Blue raspberry and cherry slushee in hand, you take leisurely sips as Eddie drives, unsure of his decided destination. The Munson trailer had become like a second home to you, your tiny closet of an apartment being the unfortunate first. Even though having your own space is nice and preferable to any alternative, it’s stuffy and during the summer tends to smell like a gym locker room if air isn’t properly circulating. 

In the end, Eddie drives the both of you back to his trailer. Once his van comes to a shuddering halt and the metalhead removes the key from the ignition, the two of you climb out of the vehicle, goodies in hand, and head into the trailer. Wayne’s truck wasn’t in the driveway, you assumed he still must be at the shop, despite the slowly setting sun off in the distance. Unlocking the front door, Eddie gives it the typical shove the break the seal of the door against the frame. In the summer it’s indefinitely worse due to the heat and humidity. 

Kicking his damp converse off, his curls beginning to frizz up upon drying, he places the plastic bag on the small, cluttered dining room table, “Movie night?” he asks, gesturing to the tv, sitting low to the ground atop a beat-up entertainment center, a few stacks of VHS tapes piled up next to it. 

“Have I ever declined a movie night invitation?” You quip at him as you saunter backward toward the trailer’s bathroom, ready to change out of your still damp swimsuit. Backpack slung over your shoulder, turning on your heels, you can hear Eddie chuckling and making a snide comment under his breath. 

Once you’ve peeled yourself out of the fabric, you exit the bathroom adorning a clean and dry t-shirt and pair of jean shorts settling snugly around your waist. Eddie has already poured the chips from the corner store into a bowl, a smaller bowl of gummy worms sitting next to it on the couch. Eddie sits on his knees in front of the entertainment center, looking through movies that the two of you have watched numerous times before. Two tapes are set aside, as he picks through the rest, “The Evil Dead, Hellraiser… those are the two I’m feelin’. Penny for your thoughts, Dear Watson?” he looks over his shoulder behind you with a lopsided grin on his face. 

“Hellraiser, undoubtedly.” You chirp in a faux English accent back to him. 

. . . 

Before the end of the movie, both you and Eddie are passed out on the floor, the snacks only half-eaten and forgotten before your inevitable slumber. You wake with a start at the sound of the landline ringing, nearly jumping out of your skin the moment you’re awake, eyes wide open. Eddie, still sleeping peacefully, isn’t bothered by the phone ringing. You harshly nudge him awake, both hands shaking his shoulder. 

“Eddie, the phone.” You say with a yawn, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. 

Curls matted to the side of his face, he’s barely awake as he clambers off of the floor, limbs adjusting to consciousness. Sauntering too casually to the phone, he lifts it off the hook and up to his ear with a yawn, “Munson residence.” He states through the yawn. His demeanor shifts all too quickly, spine straightening at the drop of a hat, dragging the palm of his hand over his face roughly. He speaks in a calm manner, giving you pause. 

“Wayne, slow down… Yeah, I’m fine… she’s here, yes… We went swimming, left earlier than the others, grabbed some snacks… What?” He answers his uncle, who you gathered was on the other end once Eddie spoke his uncle’s name. 

Eddie shoots you a worried look over his shoulder. You hadn’t seen Eddie this pale since the summer he was set to graduate, worried half to death that he wouldn’t be walking across the stage with the rest of the class of 1986. But this worry… was more akin to fear than anything else. Climbing up off the floor, you tiptoe over to him and stand beside him, still unable to hear Wayne on the other side of the call. 

“When did this happen?” Eddie asked, his tone borderline frantic. There’s another pause.

At first, you think there’s been an accident at the auto shop Wayne (and Eddie) works at, that he or someone has been injured and he has to wait for the ambulance or police to arrive. An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you wait for the brunette man to speak again. 

“Jesus Christ… No, she’s standing right next to me… Yes sir… I’ll see you when you get home… Okay… Yeah, I know, I know… Alright,” he mutters the last part under his breath as he hangs his head, as well as the phone back on the hook. 

“Shit…” he blows out a breath of air, cheeks puffed up as he exhales.

“What, what’s going on?” you ask meekly, anxiety spiked through the roof already. 

Eddie lifts his head up, expression damn near impossible to read, but that fear is still there, even more prominent than before.Extending a tattooed arm out, he brings you in for a tight embrace. Hesitantly, you wrap your arms around his torso, holding his figure just as tight against you. As you separate, Eddie’s sluggish as he walks over to the couch, plopping down. 

“I uh, I think you should sit down for this.” He pats the spot next to him, chewing the skin on his bottom lip. 

Even as you sit down next to him, you can't shake the uneasy feeling that’s raging in your chest. He won’t meet your gaze, even with you staring daggers at him, trying to will the words out of him with just your eyes, though he doesn’t budge just yet. The metalhead leans forward, elbows balancing on his knees as he holds his head in his hands. “Wayne just called me from the shop… Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins were murdered.”

The anxiety dropped into the pit of your stomach like a large stone dropping into a calm pond. Bile burns at the base of your throat, but you quickly swallow the thick, intangible lump stuck there. A hand over your stomach, you take a deep breath, then another, trying to remain calm. Neither you or Eddie were particularly fond or even close to Tommy Hagan. He was a bit of an uncouth airhead during the years in high school together, and Carol was about as much of a girl’s girl as Tommy Hagan himself, always following him around like a lost puppy, but that didn’t mean that anyone wished any harm to either of them. 

After an unnerving silence between the two of you, Eddie hesitantly reaches over to take your hand into his. He strokes his thumb over your knuckles, noticing the subtle way your hand shakes. “He didn’t… say much. Carol’s mom found Tommy in the backyard, face down in the pool… Carol was… Listen, Wayne’s gonna be home soon, okay? Him and I can take you home-” Before he’s able to finish his line of thinking, you’re cutting him off.

“Can I stay with you?” you mumble, lifting your chin up to meet Eddie’s sorrowful gaze. He softens immediately, nodding. 

“You don’t even have to ask, m’lady. This castle is just as much yours as it is mine.” Hand over his heart, he gives a small bow, trying to incorporate his signature humor to such a grim time. 

Even with Eddie keeping you company through the night, both of you back to back in his bed. His pillow smells like his laundry detergent and stale weed and the dip next to you in the mattress gives you a sense of peace. Shifting in the bed for what seems like the fifteenth time in the past hour, you can’t get comfortable. Between the news of the double murder of your former classmates and the unruly heat, there is no finding comfort. 

A tattooed arm snakes around your waist, the warm fan of breath over your shoulder, “Quit fidgeting,” Eddie’s sleep-riddled, raspy voice says next to you. Part of you wonders if he realizes what he's doing, or if he’s not awake enough to, but you don’t argue. Though, you find your eyes drifting shut as you keen against Eddie’s touch, sleep slowly pulling you under, even with the macabre thoughts of the evening still plaguing your subconscious. 

tag list: @yaspillz feedback is always appreciated, and let me know if you're interested in being apart of the taglist <3

[tracingpatternswrites]

Leather and Cinnamon | Wolfstar Bingo

It's that time of the year again! The @wolfstarbingo2024 is here.

I'm supposed to be working hard on my Big Bang fic so naturally I instead spent the whole day writing 13k words of... well, this.

I've had this idea for a long time and I think I started it over a year ago, but now I finally found the inspiration to finish it (while also crossing off one of my prompts). So here it is.

Title: Leather and Cinnamon Pairing: Wolfstar Rating: E WC: 13.2k Prompt: One night stand Summary: Remus hasn't got laid in a while, but that's okay. That's fine. He's been busy raising a son, thank you very much.

Now, however, Teddy is off to university and when Remus goes to Brighton to drop him off, they stumble over a coffee shop in the south lanes. It's a cosy little place with a barista who has silver eyes and pale skin and an arse to die for.

Remus hasn't got laid in a while, but that's okay. That's fine.

Read on AO3.

Snippet below the cut:

“I’ll order,” Teddy said as they entered the coffee shop, nodding towards a table by the window. “You can take a seat.”

“Oh really?” Remus asked, a little amused. “You’re paying too, then?”

“Obviously not,” Teddy remarked casually. “I’m a poor student, remember?”

“Sometimes I think you just spend time with me for my wallet.” Remus sighed wistfully but Teddy merely grinned at him, snapping his fingers.

“Money, please.”

“Maybe I want to order,” Remus said, but Teddy was already snatching the note from his fingers.

“Please,” Teddy scoffed. “Like I’d trust you with my order.”

Remus looked fondly as his son sauntered off towards the bar, unable not to smile to himself. He honestly couldn’t get his head around the fact that he had an 18-year-old son who was now heading off to university all on his own.

It had felt bittersweet, packing up Teddy’s boyhood room. He knew the day would come eventually, and even though he was excited for his son, he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad as well. They had driven down to Brighton together, their old little car stuffed full of (almost) everything that Teddy would need for the coming few months.

They had spent the day getting his room in order before Remus decided it was time for him to head back home. Teddy had agreed to a coffee before he left though, and Remus was set on making the most of the time he had left with his son while he still had the chance.

The café they had picked was in the south Lanes and had a bright red door with rainbow flags decorating the windows. It was the name that had drawn Remus in though, Baskerville’s Hound written in bold letters over the painting of a big, black dog.

The place itself was cosy enough, with paintings decorating the walls together with black and white photographs of Brighton and random people. The walls were painted in a dark blue colour and the furniture was all mismatched and clearly second hand, but still in good shape.

Teddy returned without drinks, pulling out the chair opposite Remus and slumping down on it, shrugging as Remus raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“They’ll bring it out,” he said, slouching back on his chair.

“Any chance you got a change on that twenty?”

“Sorry.” Teddy grinned at him, pushing a hand through his longish hair, currently a bright orange. Remus had long since accepted that Teddy opted to change his hair colour as often as other people changed clothes, and he enjoyed seeing him explore. “Consider it a contribution towards your only child’s education.”

“Ah, yes, never mind the 9K tuition fee,” Remus deadpanned. “It’s the change on the coffee that’s going to make the real difference.”

“I’ll need pocket money.”

The corner of Remus’ mouth twitched. “You need money for beer, you mean.”

Teddy threw his arms out. “It’s uni life, Da.”

Remus snorted just as the barista approached the table, clearing his throat.

“A latte with a dash of cinnamon and…whatever this monstrosity is,” the barista said, and Remus tore his gaze away from his son to the man standing next to their table.

Remus found himself doing a double-take at the sight of him. He didn’t know why he’d expected a student, but this man looked to be roughly his age. He was tall, muscular, with tattooed arms and wearing a simple white tee-shirt underneath a light apron with a large black dog printed on the front of it.

There was the hint of a stubble over his very chiselled jaw, high cheekbones and long, black hair pulled back in a ponytail. It was his eyes, however, that caught Remus’ attention. They were a light sort of grey that reminded Remus of silver, seemingly drawing in the light around them. They were dancing with something that looked like amusement as Teddy sat up excitedly.

“That’s mine,” Teddy said eagerly, reaching for the tall glass topped with a hefty dollop of whipped cream. “Cheers, mate.”

“I take it you’re the sensible one then,” the man said, the corner of his mouth twitching as he turned his gaze on Remus, placing the mug in front of him with a little wink. “Enjoy.”

Remus couldn’t help staring as the man walked away, gaze taking in the dark jeans and heavy boots.

“Earth to Da!”

Teddy’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he flinched, accidentally burning his hand as his coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug.

“Fuck,” he hissed, grabbing a napkin to wipe up his spill and when he looked back up, Teddy was watching him with a mischievous sort of twinkle in his eyes.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Remus replied quickly, clearing his throat as his voice came out weirdly rough. “Fine.”

“I said, are you coming down with Ma next week?”

“Oh,” Remus said, taking a sip from his coffee to distract himself momentarily. “Dunno, mate. D’you want me to?”

“You don’t have to,” Teddy shrugged. “It’s just cause she couldn’t be here this weekend.”

“Right,” Remus nodded. “I’ll be there if you want me to.”

Teddy waved it off, pulling his phone out of his pocket as it made a chirping noise.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, eyes on the display as he quickly tapped out a message. “Aoife says there’s a group heading to the pub tonight.”

“That sounds like fun,” replied Remus as his gaze darted over to the bar, just briefly, catching on the man who was wiping down glasses and humming to himself, the muscles in his arms flexing. “You should go with them, make some friends.”

He only tore his gaze away from the man as he heard Teddy’s snort, and his son was watching him with an unimpressed sort of expression.

“What?”

“Make some friends?” he echoed, pulling a face. “It’s not pre-school, Da. It’s uni.”

“What?” asked Remus, a little affronted. “You don’t make friends at university?”

“No,” Teddy said assuredly. “You just…get to know people. Hang out.”

“Right,” Remus said, giving a solemn nod. “My bad. You should go with them and hang out then.”

Teddy rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath before he turned his attention back to his phone, and Remus pressed his lips together so that he wouldn’t smile. His eyes darted briefly back towards the bar, where the man was now stacking mugs.

It would be in Brighton where a random barista looked like he’d stepped right out of one of Remus’ wet dreams. He looked exactly like the type Remus would have been madly in love with when he was younger, and, it turned out, his taste hadn’t changed that much since then.

Remus hadn’t dated much in the past few years as Teddy was growing up. It wasn’t that it had been impossible, Dora had managed to move on just fine after their amicable split, and her dating life had never affected Teddy badly, he just hadn’t prioritised it. Ever since Teddy had moved in with him full-time when he was fifteen, Remus put his own dating life on a shelf.

Dora had told him he was being ridiculous, that Teddy was more than capable of handling his dad dating, and Teddy had even told him so himself. He’d even encouraged Remus to get out there, claiming that it would do him good to get laid. It wasn’t a lie, Remus knew that, but he had simply prioritised raising his son over hookups.

He knew it would be different now though, with Teddy off to university and Remus alone in their house. They had been joking about it, and Remus was happy that Teddy was starting his own life as a young adult, but he couldn’t deny that it would be strange.

He and Dora had been so young when they became parents. She had still been at university, and he had only just completed his Bachelor's Degree. He’d been a parent for all of his 20s and almost all of his 30s, it felt wild thinking that he was approaching his 40s with more independence than he’d had in a long while.

“Right, I gotta go,” Teddy said suddenly, his voice yanking Remus out of his thoughts. “Sorry, Da.”

Remus shook his head, smiling a little as he stood. “Don’t worry about it. Time for me to head back home anyway.”

Teddy nodded, watching him for a moment, his blue eyes searching over Remus’ face and he looked so serious suddenly.

“Are you sure that you’ll be okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Remus couldn’t help but smile a little at the troubled look on his son’s face, the half-grimace as he gave a brief shrug.

“I’ll be fine, Da.”

“So will I,” Remus replied, smiling a little as he pulled his son close for a hug. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Can’t help it,” Teddy muttered against the crook of his neck before Remus released him. “I worry about you all alone in that house.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Remus said as he clasped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I used to have a life before you, y’know.”

“Barely,” Teddy replied with a snort, the corner of the boy’s mouth quirking upwards as Remus swatted lightly at him.

“Oi, don’t get cheeky.”

Teddy laughed, seemingly unfazed as he leaned a little closer, stage-whispering, “You could always stay and chat up the barista, eh? I can see you ogling him.”

Remus had a horrible feeling as he was blushing as Teddy threw a meaningful look towards the man behind the counter and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Continue on AO3.

[devskindawritingblog]

Heey, I was wondering if you could write a Natalie x rich!reader who loves to spoil Nat, and she doesn't know what to do with all that attention.

Like, they're at a record store where they usually hang out, but this time is different cause they're finally together, so r says that Natalie could get whatever she wanted and that r would pay for it and Nat doesn't know how to react, maybe getting a little defensive

Click to help Palestine 🇵🇸 🍉

And I love her

Natalie scatorccio x reader

AN: I tried to do a song title, but I don’t know any like nirvana songs. So I picked one that I felt kind of went with the vibe. Please don’t come for me nirvana fans 😂😂😅😅. This request sounded much like @yameoto Natalie bot. So I want to make sure I say that here. This is my own fic but I’m like 99% sure it’s based of her bot. But please check her bots out, they are great.

word count rounded: 3.4K

divider from @strangergraphics-archive

You and Nat have been together for a while now. You knew about her shitty family life and how she grew up. Everything Natalie got she worked for, she saved up for a while just to buy herself that leather jacket. But you grew up on the opposite side of the spectrum. Growing up on the other side of town, your parents were rich. Big house, lots of money; parents made six figures. You basically got anything anytime you wanted. It was a pretty lonely childhood. Your parents were also off on business and out of town most of the time.

So you spent a lot of time with Lottie, having lived in the same neighborhood. So when she joined the soccer team at the start of ninth grade, you joined with her. From there, you and Natalie became friends. At first, she didn't like you, but Nat never liked anyone at all. She thought you were annoying and a brat. You got everything you wanted, and she was jealous, and she knew it. She never thought you’d be nice.

One day, you invited the Yellowjackets team over to your house. Nat would never be caught dead at your sleepover, but she was curious about your home and, deep down, wanted to be close to you. She caught a ride with Van, as they lived close to each other. As Van pulls up to your house, Nat stares up at your house, raising an eyebrow at Van. ”Rich people, man,” Nat scoffs as Van shuts off the car, and they both get out, heading toward the house.  

Before Natalie could even knock, you swung open the door, already dressed in your pajamas. “Hey guys! Come in! Come in!” You usher them in before Van or Nat can even greet you. The other girls are in your bedroom getting set up for movie night. Natalie walks through your hallway, trailing behind you. She glances at old family photos of you when you were little. She tries not to notice that she smiles at an old photo of you as a toddler. 

She enters your bedroom after you as she feels the soft carpet underneath her feet. She walks in, taking it to your bedroom. It's much bigger than any room in her house. The girls are laid across your bed, and some are on beanbags on the floor. 

 She makes her way over to the end of your bed and notices a record player sitting on a table. She scoots closer, silently admiring it. She breaks out of her trance when Taissa throws a pillow at her. She whips around, scoffing dramatically and flipping her off. She positions herself at the end of your bed, focusing back on the girls trying to pick the movie, but every so often she finds herself staring at the record player.

 You move over while also sitting on the end of your bed as Shauna and Van argue over which movie is “the best." “You like it?” you ask, nudging Natalie's shoulder.

 “What? ” Natalia snaps out of her trance again to look over at her. “My record player. It was a gift from my last birthday. Do you like records?” You ask, staring at her as Natalie tries to process. “Uh, well yeah, I just don’t really have that much.” She trails off, avoiding your eyes. You understand what she means. 

People gossip all the time about how Natalie lives in a “dump” and how much of a “whore” she is. You knew she had it hard, but the girl that they were describing was nothing like the one sitting in front of you. 

You ended up dropping it and watching the movie with the girls. 

As the girls all filed out the next day, you noticed Natalie was still admiring your record player. You walk over again, tapping her on the shoulder. She jumps, clearly not hearing you approaching.

“Hey, you have a record player, right?” You ask as Natalie shifts, still embarrassed that she was caught again. “Uh.. yeah. Old thing. It used to be my grandpa's, but he’s gone, so he let me have it.” Natalie replies a little awkwardly. "Oh, I'm so sorry.” You respond sympathetically. “No, it's alright. I didn’t really see him often when I was little.” Nat responds, trailing off, still awkward.

“What albums do you have?” you ask excitedly as you sit down on your bed next to her. “Uh, well, it's mostly my dad's old ones. I have Guns & Roses and Metallica. And my grandpa had an Elvis Presley one.” She states, naming them off. “Nice, I’m kind of a music "freak,” so to speak. I go to the record shop at least once a month. I don’t always buy new records, but I love to look at them. Wanna check out my collection?” You basically jump off your bed, grab her hand, and drag her over to your bookshelf. Natalies smiles a little, never having seen someone so excited to show her vinyls.

 “OK! So obviously, Madonna, AC/DC, Kate Bush, and Stevie Nicks I was so excited to get this one. Whitney Houston, Janet Jackson, and The Smashing Pumpkins as well. Ooh! Nirvana, the Cranberries. You go on and on, showing her your extensive collection. She wants to be annoyed, but deep down, she knows it’s pretty cool.  

“You have Nirvana. That’s so cool. I wish I could get their albums.” Natalie says it mostly to herself. “You want to barrow?” You ask, holding it out for her to take. Natalie locks eyes with you and is almost confused by the fact that you're not a bitch to her. “Wha-t? No. No, I couldn't; it's your record.” She says she is pushing her hand out. “It’s one of my least favourites anyway. I’m not going to miss it; I have so many Nat.” You insist on putting it in her hand. 

After much convincing, Natalie takes it home. She listens to it and couldn’t possibly be happier. She brings it back to you at school because you share an English class. “So what did you think?“ you ask, smiling. “Really good; I love it.” She smiles back, and that’s the first time you’ve seen Natalie Scatorccio smile, let alone look at you at school. 

 “Why don’t you keep it then? Gotta be honest, I’ve only listened to it once.” You say, passing it back. “ uh…. It’s alright, really. I don’t need it.” She replies awkwardly again. “Okay, Nat. I’m going to ask you a question and just answer with yes or no.” You say, and she narrows her eyebrows but sighs and nods. 

“Do you like the album?” 

 “Yes”

 “Did you have a good time listening to it?”

 “Yes”

 “Do you want to keep it?”

 “Well………kinda…..” She replies, slowing down her words, and you raise your eyebrows before she sighs and gives in. “Fine, Yes.” She replies, trying not to sound too excited. “Yay!! It's going to go to a great, loving parent.” You smile, giggling at your own joke.

 After that moment, you and Natalie Scatroccio became so close. It really shocked both of you and the whole school. The whispers and rumours didn’t bother you. You now have someone to talk about music with and share yours with. You began hanging out at the record store together almost once a week. Digging through the albums and talking for hours about music. Sometimes you would buy something, but Natalie would never. 

 She wouldn't express it, but money was really tight lately, and she didn't have the type of money to spend on a new record. Her dad would also get mad at her for “wasting” her money. She already has three records. How many more could she need? Mostly, her dad didn’t like seeing her happy, and he craved control. So she would mostly follow you around; you picked them out, and if asked, she would make something up at first. After spending crazy amounts of time together, you picked up on things. You never went over to her house; you never met her parents or even learned about them.

But you also picked up on her favourite songs and artists. Her likes and dislikes. She was such a closed-off person, and you wanted to learn everything you could about her. You found out her birthday and her favourite foods. After hanging out with her as friends for months on end, you developed feelings. And unbeknownst to you, she did as well, not that she would admit it to a single soul. 

You decided to just go for it. You invited Natalie over under disguise to show her your “new record." She was a little suspicious because anytime you went to the record store, it was with Natalie. But still, she shrugged it off. She had grown fond of you, and much more than that. She comes over and lets herself in, seeing that your parents are away again. She heads up for you calling out to tell you that she is over. When you don’t respond, she furrows her brow, calling out again before she makes it to your bedroom and opens the door.

She finds you wearing one of your favourite outfits, quickly whips around, and hides something behind your back. “Hey!! Nat, you’re here!!” You say it overly enthusiastically. She can’t help but laugh at your inability to play it cool, but she decides not to press you about it. You smile a little too wide and hide whatever you have under a blanket. “Come in! Come in!” You say, shutting your door and pulling her so she is sitting next to you on your bed. “Hi, are you good?: she asks, smiling at your eagerness.

 “Me? Yeah, wonderful, so great.” You respond a little too quickly. "Soo, what's the new record you got?” Natalie inquiries. “What?” You respond, your face twisted into confusion. “OH! Right! Uh, that was a lie.” You decided not to lie to her this time and just ripped off the bandage.

“Well, the truth is... I don’t have a new record. I haven’t been there since our last hangout. But I knew it would get you over here. The thing is, I have been thinking about us recently. I love hanging out with you; you’re one of my best friends. But I don’t just want to be your friend. When I hang out with you, I never want it to end. You just kind of get me, and you love what I love. I guess what I'm saying is that I like you a lot." You confess, finally making eye contact with her, trying to read her expression. You reach behind you and pass her another Nirvana album with a cute little handwritten letter.

 You find her staring back at you, her expression extremely unreadable. Her face is twisted into confusion, as you can see her thinking intensely. “Really?” Natalie finally asks quietly, almost worried about saying it too loud for fear of you making fun of her.

 “Yeah! You think I insisted on giving you my record because I wanted to just be friends? I want to be your girlfriend, Nat." You proclaim, grabbing her hands and smiling. You see her face light up and smile back. “I want to be your girlfriend too!”. She admits, and you smile, tackling her in a hug on your bed. She yelps in surprise as you giggle. She lands on her back, and you hover over top of her.

She looks up at you, placing her hands on your hips before looking at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”. She asks as you smile and nod. She pulls you down, capturing your lips in a kiss. She rolls over, and you laugh as she hovers over you now, pulling you back into the kiss. You both spend the rest of the night cuddling in bed and listening to music together. 

It's now been over a year since you asked her to be your girlfriend. It was a Saturday morning. You slowly woke up to the soft glow of the sun through your white curtains. You tried to rub your eyes, but Natalie was cuddled up to you, her arms locked around your arms, which were by your side. You smile softly, tugging an arm free to fix your hair and rub your eye of sleep. 

You smile, reaching up to run your fingers through her freshly blonde, messy hair. You lean closer to give her a kiss on the nose, giggling to yourself as her nose scrunches up. She blinks awake and groans, burying her face in yours. “Babe”. She whines, “Your blinds don’t do anything." She rewraps her arms around you, holding you as close as she can. “I like them, Natty; it’s nice and bright in here. It helps wake me up." You say, kissing her forehead and tracing your fingers down her spine. 

“If you needed help waking up, I'm sure I could help you with that." She smirks, pulling her head out of your chest. Her eyes finally adjusted to the light. You roll your eyes and giggle, "Uh, huh, and how are you going to do that, babe?”. You smirk, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“I can think of a few ideas...”. She trails off before you feel her hand sneak under your pyjama shirt. She places her hands on your hips and pulls you into a heated kiss. You wrap your arms around her neck as she kisses you deeply. She pulls back after a few minutes before she finds her way to your neck. 

You glance over at the time and almost push Natalie off, trying to sit up. She whines and pushes you back onto your pillow. “Baby, come on. It’s Saturday”. Natalie whines into your neck as you giggle at how whiney she is when you interpret your guys' make-out time. “I have a surprise, Natty. Fine, one more kiss." You give in as Natalie makes out with you again. She finally pulls away and sits up, getting off the bed with you as both of you get ready.

It was your one-year anniversary, and you both have been talking about what you want to do. You told Natalie that you didn’t need anything for it because she was already enough. But unbeknownst to you, she saved up a bit to buy you a CD. She wanted to buy you a walkman, but they were way too expensive. She understood why she was never able to get on when she was younger, even now.

"Baby, I have a gift for you.” Natalie says, smiling shyly as she pulls out a CD in the case with a cute pink ribbon tied around it in a bow. "Awwww, babe, you didn’t need to get me anything. Today is already perfect because of you.” You smile, but take it from her, pulling her into a hug and a soft kiss as she wraps her arms around your waist. 

 “I saved up a bit; I wanted to do something nice for our anniversary. And we both love our music." She smiles, proud of herself that you liked it. You both pull back, but you pull her back into another kiss. 

 “I have a little surprise for you, but it's not here right now. It's more of an activity; get ready, then we can go." You say, pulling her into a little kiss and smirking. The both of you got ready and took your car to the record store. As you pull up, Natalie grabs your other hand, smiling. “Our hangout spot?”. You nod and kiss her cheek, shutting off your car and holding Natalie's hand as you walk in. 

 You enter the shop together, and you both walk around looking at all the records together. Natalie eyes up a certain album—the first album you gave her. She cherished it; it was so special to her. Before her dad died, he came home drunk out of his mind, and when he heard Natalie’s music coming from her room, he went in there and broke it. She went over to your house and stayed over for a few nights. She apologized to no end, and you comforted her all night before she fell asleep and cuddled with you.

Same with the day her father died. You went over to her house for the first time because Natalie wanted to show you her mixtape, and that's when it happened. He came home early and shoved you out of her house. You didn’t want to leave her, but you didn't have a choice. You called her house phone every hour, praying and stressing about her. You ended up finally throwing on a sweater and heading to your front door. 

 You swing it open and find Natalie, her eyeliner smudged and running. Her face was speckled with blood. You were in shock and pulled her into your house, bringing her to your bathroom and wiping the blood off her face. She didn't say anything the whole time; she was visibly shaking. You brought her back into your room and let her cuddle with you.

 She told you everything after an hour. It all just came out at once. She broke down, talking about how it's her fault and how you should hate her. You, of course, didn’t hate her. The first time you met her dad was that day, and you already knew you didn't like him. You reassured her until she cried herself to sleep in your arms.

 After that, you knew she couldn't live like that, so you offered her to stay with you. She was reluctant at first, but she also wasn't super excited to go live alone with her mom. So in the end, she decided she would stay with you. Having your girlfriend with you every day was great, and knowing she was safe was another layer of happiness.

 As you watched Natalie stare at the album that started all of this, you went over, wrapped your arms around her waist, and kissed her on the cheek. You knew about what her dad did to the last album and knew it would be a great gift. “That's my gift to you, baby; I'm going to buy you the album." You say, "Smiling." "Awwww, babe, that's so sweet. I know you're sentimental, but that's adorable.” 

 She grabs the album and turns around, giving you a little kiss. "Oh, and the second part: Do you want anything else? I'll buy you whatever albums you want for today." You say as you take the album from Nat, holding it for her.

 “What? Babe, come on. I don’t even need the first album.” she counters 

“It's our anniversary; you bought me a CD. I get to spoil you. We are not going to argue about this because I am not leaving her until you let me buy them." You say back, insisting. 

“You already got me a place to stay, and I don't deserve this." She says she is getting a bit defensive. 

You stop stepping closer and hugging her. “You deserve the world, Nat. I want to spoil you, and I won’t take no for an  answer." You pulled back, looking into her eyes, not relenting until she sighed, and you smiled in triumph, giggling excitedly.

 She walks around the shop at a slow pace. She was still reluctant to pick out albums. But you ended the day with six new records. It took even longer to convince her because after every one she picked out, she tried to talk you out of it. You doubled down, and she knew you wouldn't give up. 

You both returned home and cuddled in your bed while listening to her new records together. She thanked you more, and you again told her that she was worth it. She told you she would do something better on our next anniversary. But you told her she didn't need to. Being your girlfriend was already enough for you. You didn’t need things to know how much she loved you, and neither did Natalie, but new records are pretty good.