#really thought oh no they might not turn this around!!

[teencopandthesourwolf]

now on a3 HERE

.

“Holy crapsticks, Derek! Some sort of warning of your imminent wolfy arrival wouldn't go amiss you know? You do own a cellphone—I've seen it with mine own two eyes!”

Derek goes to close Stiles's window, turning his head first to hide his almost-smirk.

“Hey, are you laughing at me?” Stiles asks, affronted.

Derek obviously hides it badly. Or maybe Stiles is just better at catching him out than most people.

Stiles whips off one of his socks, balls it up, and launches at Derek's head. Derek catches it easily before fully turning back around. He then sniffs at it, eagerly, just to gross Stiles out.

It smells—nice, honestly.

Stiles gags. “Oh my God, you are such an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one,” Derek shrugs.

He kind of can't help himself. It's fun getting snarky with this shithead kid, and it's been a while since he's known what fun looks like.

Derek's an asshole. And he's selfish. Does selfishness makes you an asshole by association? Whatever. He figures he's allowed to be a selfish asshole after everything. He stopped caring about social niceties a while back. Stiles—even if undeserving of a selfish asshole like Derek messing up his life more than it's already messed up—doesn't seem to give two shits about that sort of thing anyway.

There is also something awfully delicious about watching Stiles get riled up. That little jackrabbit heart of his thumping even faster against his frail, human ribcage; those usually pale as the moon cheeks flushing hard as he blushes beautifully from a baby pink through to a deep, blood red.

Selfish Asshole is a pretty good position to be in from where Derek is currently standing, watching a satisfyingly scarlet-faced Stiles flail his skinny arms about like an inflatable tube man outside a cheap car sales room.

He asks Derek what he wants and Derek thinks, you.

It's not exactly a revelation. He's had thoughts. Thoughts he's acted on when he's horny and has a precious few minutes to himself. He'd thought it was just a physical thing, at first.

Until the pool.

He licks at his lips and tastes both Stiles's irritation and his desire.

It's the same for him. Stiles annoys the living crap out of him, but he makes his dick hard too. Plus his heart a little soft, dammit.

It's fucking annoying.

Even more irritating is how there are rules for this shit, ones he actually finds himself wanting to abide by for once. He doesn't really know why but maybe it's because everyone he's been with since the fire has thought he was human, and he doesn't have to pretend with Stiles. Maybe he just likes Stiles more than he thought he did.

He rolls his eyes (not just at Stiles) and shucks Laura's old record bag off his shoulder before opening it and carefully taking out its contents.

“Here, take this.”

Stiles eyes him suspiciously before reaching out and taking the small-ish bundle from Derek's grasp, looking at it as though it might be poisoned. It could be for all Stiles knows, he supposes. The kid sniffs at it with only a fraction of the enthusiasm Derek had for Stiles's sock.

“Dude, why in the name of all that is sacred have you brought me a nosegay? Like, what the fuck is this shit? Looks like a really old Dolmades and smells like, like, I dunno, like somebody shoved a bunch of dead flowers in my Dan-O's jar of Italian Herb seasoning, man. Dear lord,” Stiles complains, holding the homemade smudge stick in the air between a finger and thumb as if it's a dead rat.

…which Derek very much could have gone with instead of an apotropaic charm. To be fair, if he'd chosen an offering as a token of his affections, it probably would've been something a little larger like a rabbit.

Stiles should think himself lucky.

“It's a smudge stick, you idiot,” Derek informs the kid, rolling his eyes again for good measure, and reason. His sockets perpetually ache around this dumbass.

He tosses his bag onto Stiles's desk chair, and himself onto Stiles's bed. Hiding out here a while back left him fairly comfortable around the place.

“Oh! I've read about these a ton on like, magic sites and shit, just—I never actually saw one IRL before.”

Derek scoffs. “Nobody actually says IRL in real life, genius.”

“Well they clearly do, Douchey Mc Dickbag, because I just said it, right here, right now,” Stiles sasses and pulls his tongue out at Derek.

Derek wants to bite and suck on it.

“You don't count. You're not real; you're just one of my recurring nightmares,” he sasses right back because it's fun to.

Selfish asshole.

“Awww, Der-bear! So you not only bring me what is essentially a bunch of flowers on Valentine's Day, but you dream about me too? Honestly, I didn't know you cared, big guy!” Stiles moons, clutching the smudge stick to his chest like a fool.

There's a record scratch moment where Derek has to go back over what Stiles just said.

Valentine's Day?

Before giving himself a chance to panic at the extra pressure this brings, he hears himself saying, “What if I am? And what if I do?” because maybe, actually, thinking about it, this will make it easier for Stiles.

Stiles's heartbeat stutters as he sucks in a big, staccato breath that Derek doesn't think he necessarily meant to take, and he sounds a little incredulous when he whispers, “What?” on the exhale.

Derek gets up off the bed and lopes over to where Stiles is standing, planting himself directly in front of the kid, their noses practically touching. He watches, rapt, as Stiles' cheeks go from moon rocks to rose petals to pools of blood, in a matter of seconds.

“There's white sage and sweetgrass and cedar. And yarrow. Wild indigo. Marigolds, too. And, uh, chamomile and mugwort and rosemary and bay. It's for protection. For you. Because,” he pauses, then thinks fuck it, before barrelling on. “Because I want to protect you, dip-shit,” Derek tells him and hopes, and hopes, and hopes.

I don't know who's gonna protect you from me though, he thinks as Stiles swallows. It sounds like a rock in a lake.

“Oh,” Stiles breathes, batting those long, pretty lashes up at Derek as if he has no idea what effect it has on his predatory nature.

He's never known Stiles to speak in one word sentences before now, and he thinks he very much likes knocking the sass right out of the brat like this.

Stiles squirms a little. “Um, I feel kinda bad, now,” he lies, looking down at the singular sock he's still wearing. He doesn't feel bad at all. He smells of pride and excitement and arousal. “I don't have anything to give you.”

Derek says, “Yeah you do; you started leaving your window open again, ” because they both know that ever since the pool, Stiles wants to trust Derek.

This is not a good idea, he thinks. But Derek is a selfish asshole—remember?

He licks at a canine, and Stiles whimpers.

Fuck, Derek thinks as he says, “Also, you could let me do this,” and licks Stiles from jaw to hairline, before he's nestling his entire face into Stiles's neck with a satisfied growl.

“Oh my fucking fuck, Derek, I am so nosegay for you,” Stiles literally whines, and Derek grins as he nips at the kids throat. “It's Happy Valentine's to the both of us then, I guess,” Stiles practically hums, flinging the smudge stick onto his desk before pushing Derek backwards to fall gracelessly onto his bed.

And for the first time in his life Derek thinks, thank fuck for Saint Valentine's.

.

completely unedited so pls be kind, and a very HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY 💕 — awoooooooo!

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

good old-fashioned lover boy

a valentines weekend event fic!

jason todd x reader: ever the romantic: despite all his best attempts, none of his valentine’s day plans are going right!

content level: fluff so fluffy you could make a bed out of it and sleep for days

“with what..i most enjoy contented least..” jason shakes his head, pacing around the living room. “yet..in these thoughts? myself almost despising..c’mon, already!” he keeps muttering to himself, and from your position in the hallway, he looks extremely frustrated. you stifle a giggle, stepping out.

“jay?” you call, smiling warmly as you head his way.

“baby!” he starts, looking surprised. he puts up what look like jazz hands, before looking at his pose and dropping them, sheepish. “what’s up?”

“oh, nothing..” you plop onto the couch, pulling out your phone, waving it at him. “i did just get off of the phone with your brother, and he’s taking barbara on a little getaway. isn’t that sweet?”

jason nods, his whole demeanor having changed since the mention of dick. he waves for you to continue. because of course there’s more.

“well, he was wondering if we’d be able to dogsit haley.” you drop the news, almost cringing in anticipation of jason’s hard:

“no.”

“jay, why not? that dog is so stinkin’ cute and i have no problem with it.” he plops down next to you on the couch, and you blink up at him. “besides, it’s for valentine’s day! spread a little love!”

jason grabs your thigh, smirking. “oh, i’ll spread a little love, alright.”

“not if you’re gonna be this stubborn.” you roll your eyes, whacking his arm.

he sighs as you get up to go to the kitchen, dramatic as ever.

“fine.” he relents, and internally you let out a sigh of your own.

“good, because i already told him yes.”

your admission leaves jason groaning, but a small smile sits on his lips.

a few months prior:

“these ones, right?” the clerk looks up as packets upon packets of seeds tumble onto the checkout counter. she sets down her magazine, mumbling under her breath.

“camellia, tulips, coneflower, lily of the valley..” she shuffles through them, nodding as she goes. “yep, these should all work!”

“okay.” jason nods firmly. “i want all of them.”

february 13

haley’s happy barks are making you giggle, and jason suddenly can’t remember why he was ever opposed to the idea. if there’s an open tab on his search engine for the nearest shelter, well. that’s no one’s business but his.

you’re infatuated with haley, and jason snapped a ridiculous amount of pictures when you fell asleep on the couch with the dog snuggled up next to you.

later

you walk in as jason’s opening and closing the cabinets in the kitchen, a bit frantically.

“okay, flour, baking soda, sugar..”

“hey, baby. whatcha doing?”

jason jumps, turning around with a smile.

“hi honey! nothing, really. what are you doing?” he leans against one of the counters.

“uh..nothing? do you still want to go try that new pizza spot?” you walk up to him, resting your head on his chest and threading your arms under his. he wraps you up into a hug, walking you away from the kitchen. you giggle, your smile scrunching up your eyes.

“jay, where are we going?”

“why, to go get ready, of course?” he says, playing serious.

even later

you’re scrolling on your phone, looking for gifts for your boyfriend for valentine’s day, when he pops his head into the bedroom.

“i’m going to head out to the store, babe. do you need anything?”

you cock your head, sort of confused. you and jason almost always go get groceries together, unless one of you is at work or something. you set your phone down, thinking.

“the only thing i can think of is that we might be running a little low on eggs?”

jason nods, coming in to plant a big kiss on your forehead.

“sounds good,” he says, grabbing his jacket as he walks out. you settle back into bed, eyebrows furrowed. weird.

february 14th

“damn it, damian!” jason hoarsely growls from your apartment’s balcony, eyes locked on his flower pots. (or what was left of them) he’d gotten up early to get everything ready, and there was a batarang lodged into his pot, the flowers—he leaned over the railing—yup, on the sidewalk. great. now he’d have to buy you a store bought bouquet. which is fine, but seriously? he has half a mind to send a bill to bruce, he’s so pissed off. he didn’t even realize they were fighting over here last night, how could he not have heard?

he trudges down to the street with a garbage bag, carefully picking up the flowers—which had already been stepped on, to add insult to injury—handfuls of dirt, and the broken shards of the pot, dropping them all into the bag. an elderly woman strolls by, patting him on the back.

“such a nice young man!” she calls after him. he nods, raising a hand in acknowledgement. he doesn’t feel very nice right now.

jason cannot believe his ears right now. his voice is..gone? he spent weeks memorizing that sonnet for you, and his voice is a raspy, gravelly mess. you two had slept with the window open last night and it’d been pretty cold, but you liked that. he liked it, because the you’d snuggle up next to him. but he must be starting to get a cold or something. he hasn’t really talked yet today either, he’s been home alone while you’re at work. so far he’s just talked to the dog..which went extremely poorly. he tried to give haley a command, but just sounded like a teenager in puberty. he just knows if dogs could laugh, haley would’ve been cackling. ugh. maybe he’ll just save it for an anniversary. tying on an apron, jason grabs all the cake ingredients he needs, setting them out onto the counter.

the cake is baked, and it is beautiful. jason’s proud of himself, putting the final touches on the frosting, adding flourishes he didn’t even know he knew how to do. he sets down the piping bag, checking the time. you should be home from work anytime now. he takes his apron off, washing his hands. his shirt is..covered in flour, to say the least. he goes the bedroom to change, (into a different black shirt) coming back out when he sees disaster about to strike.

“haley, no!” jason shouts, except the dog can’t hear him if he’s lost his voice. haley jumps up, grabbing the end of the plate with her teeth. it bangs against the side of the counter, effectively flinging the cake across the room, onto the kitchen floor. jason slaps a hand over his eyes, groaning. the familiar metal of your key slots into the lock, and you open the door to…

what exactly is going on, anyways?

jason has a smear of what looks like flour on his face, haley is sitting, looking at you with her tongue out and her tail wagging, and there’s a cake. on the floor.

“jay..what?” you set down your bag, shrugging your coat off and dropping that too, heading towards your boyfriend. “what happened, baby?”

“i was trying,” jason sighs. “i was trying to make you a cake for valentine’s day. and grow you flowers. and recite shakespeare to you. but quite literally none of those things worked out.”

you smile, sending his heart thumping as you brush the flour off of his cheek.

“well, i don’t know about you, but i’m starving. and there’s some cake on the floor over there that looks, like, really good.”

jason rolls his eyes at you, a smile starting on his lips. you grab two forks, handing him one. he joins you on the floor, watching as you take a huge first bite. your cheeks puffed, you chew with wide eyes. jason chuckles, grabbing some for himself too. you swallow, grabbing his hand.

“jason. i don’t know how to tell you this, but you need to quit everything you’re doing and become a professional baker. this cake is insane.” you take another bite, sighing as you close your eyes.

“you’re ridiculous.” jason’s blushing, shaking his head. you shrug, scooping cake up and bringing your fork to his lips.

“yeah, but you like it.” you say as he nods, chewing. he swallows, beaming at you.

“happy valentine’s day, baby.”

“happy valentine’s day, jason.”

༄ For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

from sonnet 29, william shakespeare.

post divider courtesy of: @saradika-graphics

[dixons-sunshine]

Be My Valentine | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

(GIF by @daryl-dixon-daydreams)

Summary: Encouraged by Carol to finally do something about his feelings for you, Daryl takes advantage of the supposed holiday of love to do it. Showing up at your doorstep with flowers might just be exactly what he needed to do.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria.

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 889.

A/N: Not the best, but I wanted to write a little something for Valentine’s day. I hope this is still somewhat enjoyable!

“Alright. I got this,” Daryl muttered to himself, his nerves at an all-time high. He nervously smoothed his shirt, clutching a handmade bouquet of wildflowers in his other hand—courtesy of the help of Carol. He stood in front of the door to the house you shared with Michonne, Rick and the kids, hesitating on whether or not he should do what he wanted to.

It had been a long time coming, really. Daryl had harboured feelings for you since as long as he could remember. However, he never had the courage to confess to you, not wanting to ruin the perfectly good friendship the two of you already had. But Carol had enough of the two of you “dancing around each other”. Valentine’s day was coming up, and she had deemed it the perfect day for Daryl to finally stop beating around the bush and ask you out.

Daryl had agreed, but only because if everything went wrong and you indeed didn’t feel the same, he could play it off as wanting to spend time with you as friends. That he just wanted to make you feel special on the holiday that couples seemed to adore.

Taking a deep breath, Daryl raised his fist to the door to knock against the wood. After three knocks, he took a step back and waited for you to come to the door. He knew that Rick and Michonne were out for the day, so at least he didn’t have to risk making a perfect fool out of himself in front of them. However, as the seconds ticked by, doubt washed over him. What if he was making a mistake? What if you didn’t want this? What if you hated him afterwards?

Daryl turned around, ready to walk away and throw the towel in on the idea. However, before he could even take one step, the door opened, and your sweet, angelic voice reached his ears.

“Daryl, hi!”

The archer turned around, his cerulean eyes locking with yours. He felt the air leave his lungs at the sight of you; wet hair, clad in a pair of shorts and a shirt that clung to you because of the water droplets, and that radiant smile he had come to love so much. Despite trying to talk, words fell short.

Your eyebrows etched together in concern. “Daryl? Are you okay?”

Daryl cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, m’good,” he replied gruffly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

You nodded and shifted your gaze down to the flowers in his hand. “Those are beautiful,” you told him. You could feel your heart beat faster against your ribcage, but you reminded yourself to be reasonable. Those flowers weren’t necessarily for you. They could be for someone else.

Clearing his throat again, Daryl tried to suppress his nerves. “Yeah. Carol helped pick ‘em out.” He slowly extended the bouquet towards you, averting your gaze. “Got ‘em for you.”

“Oh.” You smiled shyly and took the flowers from him, bringing them up to your nose to smell them. “Thank you.” So they were for you. That made your heart melt. “But why?”

Fuck, Daryl thought to himself. There was no turning back now. It was now or never. “’S, uh… s’Valentine’s Day tomorrow. I mean, I guess it is, if ya wanna believe the people who have been keepin’ track’a the days.”

“Yeah…” you trailed off, trying to suppress a smile. You didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, but you had a pretty good idea of where he was going with it.

He inhaled sharply, stuffing his shaking hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Was wonderin’ if you’d, y’know…” He shrugged his shoulders.

“If I’d what?” You knew. There was no doubt in your mind at this point about what he was going to ask you, and you couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought of it.

Daryl swallowed and exhaled shakily. “Ain’t it obvious? Ya really gonna make me say it?” he asked, seeing the way your lips curled up into a playful smile. He had to fight off a smile of his own.

You laughed lightly and shook your head. “No.” You stepped forward and leaned towards him, pressing a soft, quick peck to his cheek. When you pulled away, you could see the blush that coated Daryl’s cheeks, and you smiled at that. “Yeah. I’d love to be your Valentine.”

Daryl ducked his head shyly, peering at you through his hair. “Y’sure?”

You laughed again and nodded. “I’m sure.” You fiddled with the bouquet in your hands. “What do you have planned?”

He hummed and took a step back, feeling butterflies swarm around in his stomach. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout that. S’a surprise.”

“Well what should I wear, then?” you asked with a grin.

“It don’t really matter, but casual s’probably a safe bet,” he replied.

“Okay. I’ll be ready.”

Daryl nodded and took another step back. He felt happier than he has in a long time. He couldn’t believe you had said yes, that he could actually tell Carol to go ahead with helping him plan the perfect date. Things were finally looking up for him.

And he was going to make sure that he gave you the best Valentine’s Day he possibly could.

[starkeyswomen]

❥ JUNO ━━━━━ JOE BURROW

: ̗̀➛ word count: 1.9k

: ̗̀➛ warnings: nothing really? I think

: ̗̀➛ noor speaks: this is my first time writing for Tumblr, so please give me any feedback! theirs so many talented writers on here, so I fear my Wattpad-level writing does not even begin to compare. but this is an idea that I basically think about a lot. I've had this in my drafts since December but since miss carpenter FINALLY released short n sweet deluxe, figured might as well finish it.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The night was electric.

Fans filled the sold-out paycor stadium, their glow sticks lighting up the space like a galaxy of pink and gold. The air was thick with excitement, the lingering hum of thousands of voices buzzing even after Y/N had just finished performing one of her biggest songs. The final notes of the track faded into the background as she took a moment to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling beneath the soft glow of the stage lights.

Then—she froze.

A shift in the atmosphere. A sudden, dramatic pause.

The audience sensed something coming.

Y/N took a slow step forward, pressing her mic to her lips, her expression unreadable. Her eyes scanned the massive crowd, searching, thinking, as if she had just realized something of grave importance.

Then, she whispered into the mic.

“Wait.”

The crowd’s cheers faltered slightly, their energy now laced with curiosity.

“Wait, wait, wait…”

Y/N held up a hand, signaling them to quiet down. Her gaze narrowed, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. The anticipation built as the massive screens around the venue zoomed in on her face. Then, as if she had just made the discovery of a lifetime, she let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her chest like she was shook to her core.

“Oh my God.”

The entire arena erupted.

The screams were deafening. Fans immediately started scanning the crowd, clutching at their friends, already knowing what was about to happen. Some pointed randomly, hoping it was them she was looking at. 

Y/N took another step forward, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Guys…" she whispered, as if in awe. "I think I just found my future husband."

The crowd lost their minds.

The screams doubled, fans started jumping, their voices rising to ear-splitting levels. Even her own dancers on stage turned their heads, their eyes wide with fake shock.

Y/N turned to them, placing a hand over her mic. "Girls, girls, come here."

Two of her dancers strutted over, their hips swaying dramatically like they were part of an elite investigative team.

Y/N bit her lip, looking back into the audience, then pointed. “There.”

The spotlight moved—sweeping over the crowd before stopping at a single figure standing near the barricade.

And that’s when the entire stadium imploded.

joe burrow

The camera zoomed in just as he looked up, his face suddenly plastered across the massive screens.

Baseball cap. Casual hoodie. Hands in his pockets. His head tilted slightly as he blinked, his face betraying just the slightest amount of shock.

Y/N smirked.

She shifted her weight, placing a hand on her hip. “Hey there.”

Joe hesitated, raising an eyebrow before pointing at himself, mouthing me?

Y/N nodded, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yes, you."

She sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "I really, really hate to do this, but…" She placed a delicate hand over her heart, pretending to look deeply troubled.

“…you’re under arrest.”

The arena lost it.

Fans screamed. Some straight-up collapsed. Others gripped their heads, as if they had just witnessed the greates pop culture moment in history.

Joe raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as he tried so hard not to smile.

"Really?"

Y/N nodded, dead serious. "Mhm. You are simply too attractive to be standing there so casually. It’s a danger to public safety. A crime, actually."

The crowd erupted again,

Joe let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "That so?"

Y/N nodded dramatically. "Yeah. And to be completely honest…" She reached up, pretending to fan herself. "I’m actually starting to feel a little hot myself."

And just then—one of her dancers, standing strategically next her, let go of her floor-length skirt, letting it drop to the ground.

Revealing her mini pink sparkly skirt underneath.

The stadium EXPLODED.

Y/N casually stepped out of the fabric pile at her feet, flipping her hair before turning back to Joe like nothing happened.

"But uhm…" She tilted her head. "What’s your name, sir?"

Joe grinned, stepping closer to the barricade. "Joe!"

Y/N cupped her ear. "Hmm?"

Joe, laughing now, shouted louder. "Joe!"

Y/N squinted, pretending to struggle. "I still can’t hear you…" She sighed, shaking her head. "I’m afraid I’m just going to have to call you…" She smirked.

"My husband."

The SCREAMING was unreal.

Joe tilted his head back, laughing as the camera zoomed in on his blush.

Meanwhile, Y/N had fully turned away from the mic, covering her mouth with both hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. But even as she tried to compose herself, the deep pink flush across her cheeks was giving her away completely.

The entire stadium was in ruins.

She cleared her throat, biting back a smile as she casually walked over to the edge of the stage.

A pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs appeared in her hand.

She twirled them between her fingers for a moment before passing them to her security guard.

The crowd screamed even louder as the guard took them, walked over to Joe, and handed them straight to him.

Joe took them, turning them over in his hands with a smirk, before glancing back up at Y/N.

Y/N, flushed and grinning, gave a small, cheeky wave before flipping her hair and sauntering back to the middle of the stage.

"Alright, now that justice has been served…" She fixed her hair, voice slightly breathless from laughing. "Let’s get back to the music, shall we?"And just like that, the beat for juno dropped, the lights shifted, and she launched into her next song—leaving the entire world absolutely wrecked.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The buzz of the crowd’s cheers had finally begun to fade, the lights dimming as Y/N sat in the cozy confines of her trailer. The night had been absolutely electrifying—the adrenaline from performing still coursing through her veins. Her mind, however, was racing in a different direction. The last few moments on stage, arresting Joe, calling him her future husband—it all felt like a whirlwind. But the excitement hadn’t quite settled yet.

She stepped toward the mirror, her eyes going over herself, internally reflecting on the emotions she’d just experienced. The crowd’s energy, the humor, the spontaneous arrest—it was fun, but now, in the quiet of the trailer, she found herself wondering what came next. The door to her trailer was still locked, her safe space away from the chaos outside.

Suddenly, a knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t been expecting anyone. She hurried to open the door, her breath catching in her throat.

Joe Burrow

her boyfriend

Before she could say a word, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up in a warm, familiar embrace. His hands cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer, and she let out a soft sigh against his chest.

“You did wonderful, baby,” Joe whispered into her hair, his voice low and tender.

Y/N smiled, feeling the tension in her body release from the comfort of his arms. "Thank you, Joey," she murmured, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “And thank you for agreeing to let me arrest you. I know it was out of your comfort zone.”

Joe chuckled softly, his hands slipping to her waist as he gazed down at her. “You kidding? I would do anything for you, Y/N.”

Her heart fluttered, the sweet sincerity in his words making her feel like the luckiest person alive. She couldn’t help but smile, feeling warmth spread through her chest at the thought of him being so supportive. The way he looked at her—it was like nothing else mattered, like they were the only two people in the world.

He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, gentle kiss. It was as if he was savoring the moment, drawing her in with each tender motion. Y/N melted into him, her hands resting on his chest as the kiss deepened.

But soon, the kiss grew more urgent, the need between them building in a way that was undeniable. Y/N could feel the intensity rising, the pull of desire swirling around them. Joe’s hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, but she could sense the urgency in the kiss, the way it was becoming more than just a simple expression of love.

Not here. Not now.

Y/N broke away from the kiss, breathless. “Joey…” she mumbled against his lips, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. She felt his body tense against hers, but he didn’t pull away. instead, moving forward until they were both now sitting on the couch in the trailer.

“Hmmm?” he hummed, his hands still resting on her lower back as he nuzzled her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

“We can’t,” she said softly, her voice shaking slightly. She wanted him, more than anything, but the reality of the situation hit her—anyone could walk in at any moment. They were in her trailer, the door just a few feet away from where they stood. The risk was too great.

Joe groaned in frustration but didn’t let go. “Baby, you look so…” His words trailed off as he rubbed her lower back gently, his fingers pressing into the soft fabric of her top. “So damn beautiful.”

Y/N smiled despite herself, her heart fluttering at the way he looked at her. She could feel the heat rising between them again, the magnetic pull she had always felt with Joe. She wanted nothing more than to give in to it, to let the world fall away and just be with him.

But she knew they couldn't. it's too risky.

“Joey…” She bit her lip, trying to resist the temptation to kiss him again. “We have to wait until we get home.”

Joe pouted, a look of pure disappointment crossing his features. He dropped his hands from her waist, staring at her with those puppy-dog eyes that always made her question everything.

Y/N couldn’t help herself. She laughed, her fingers finding his jaw again as she pulled him closer. “Oh, come on, baby,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re such a tease.”

Joe’s pout turned into a smile as she kissed him back, this time slower, more deliberate. Y/N melted into him, her hands trailing up to his hair as the kiss deepened once again.

But before things could escalate further, she pulled away, breathless. “We really have to wait,” she said, giving him a playful push.

Joe let out a resigned sigh, but he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re killing me here,” he muttered, but his tone was warm, filled with love and affection.

“I know, but…” Y/N looked at him seriously for a moment. “It’s good to wait, builds up the tension Joey.”

Joe grinned, his arms slipping around her once more. “oh, I've heard.” he whispered, his voice laced with affection.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. “Good,” she said with a smile.

As they sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the trailer seemed so far away. The chaos of the concert, the fans screaming her name, it all felt distant. In this moment, it was just her and Joe, lost in the quiet connection they shared.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Let’s just say—you didn’t move the entire next day.

She was sore in places she didn’t even know existed, her body still aching from the night before. And honestly? She didn’t care. The memory of last night played on a loop in her mind as she stayed wrapped in the warmth of their sheets, Joe’s peaceful snores filling the room.

[mochiwrites]

When Grian enters the doorway of Scar’s base, he finds the man digging around in his chests, mumbling to himself. It’s a sight he’s walked in on multiple times before in the past, a scene that settles in Grian’s chest and leaves a sense of domesticity blanketing him. He watches for a few moments, if only to exist in the same space as the man he’s so terribly missed. Everyone had been gathered at spawn for the grand reveal of the object that’d allow for them to keep their inventories, and Grian had been so focused on it that he didn’t have the opportunity to give Scar a proper hello.

Hence why when the group split off to prep themselves for what will most certainly be a grueling fight with the ender dragon, Grian’s first stop is Scar. He himself doesn’t need to do that much prepping, already loaded with food, a water bucket, and a bow. He’s got a few potions on hand as well.

So in the doorway he stands, watching Scar with a pleased smile. His wings twitch behind him, wanting to wrap the man up in warm feathers and drag him back to his nest for some long overdue snuggles. Later, he reminds his bird brain. Instead, he allows himself a soft trill, the sound instantly making Scar pause in his movements.

Lifting his head up and turning around, forest green meets chocolate brown, and Scar’s face breaks out into a wide grin. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d get a little visit from my favorite bird,” he muses, prompting Grian to enter his base.

“Sorry for the wait then,” Grian returns, coming over to him. He checks Scar over, nodding in approval when he sees him fully decked out in diamond armor. If they had more time he might’ve been able to help Scar with enchantments, if only to keep him a bit more protected. But this is just as good—certainly an upgrade from the iron helmet.

Fully aware of Grian’s staring, Scar’s grin turns into a sly smirk. “Like what you see?” he hums, flexing an arm.

Grian laughs at him, moving to brush his hands over the shoulders of Scar’s chest plate. “It’s adequate.” It’s his turn to grin as he revives the old joke, earning a pout from Scar.

“Never gonna let me live that down, huh?” Scar murmurs, chuckling. “Should I shine it then? Make it really sparkle,” the vex hums in thought.

Pretending to think about it, Grian tilts his head. “Hm, it’s already plenty shiny. Any shinier and I might get distracted during the fight.” His hands drop down to Scar’s chest, remaining there.

Scar looks at him, still pouting. “You mean the handsome man wearing the armor won’t distract you?” There’s almost an edge of a whine in his voice as he replies, one that amuses Grian greatly.

“Oh he will,” he returns, wings curling around them, keeping them both in a feathery shield. “It’s been a while since he’s been around to distract me.” There’s a twinge of raw honesty in what Grian says, the ache of yearning sitting in his chest as he looks up at Scar.

A warm palm settles against Grian’s cheek, thumb running over his skin. Scar’s expression softens, eyes filling with the same yearning, the same depth of affection. “I guess we’ll be even then,” he speaks quietly, “because there’s a certain pretty bird that happens to be very distracting for me.”

Grian preens, a pleased coo sounding from him. He leans up to bump their noses together, pressing his forehead right against Scar’s. Scar chuckles, his other arm finding a place around his waist to pull Grian in closer. “We’re both going to end up being late to meet back up with the others,” Grian idly points out, although he makes no effort to pull away or move.

“I think making them wait an extra minute or two won’t hurt.” Scar smiles devilishly in that way of his that makes Grian huff. “Besides, you were the one who came to see me! Didn’t even give me the chance to pop in on you.” He’s teasing. “Did you miss me that much, G?”

Yes. “No,” Grian denies, “I wanted to make sure you had proper gear.”

Scar hums, though he doesn’t appear to believe Grian’s little fib a single bit. “‘course I do! I had a whole stack of diamonds just sitting around collecting dust.” He gives Grian’s waist a loving squeeze. “It’s a miracle I didn’t die while trying to make this armor.”

Grian laughs at that with a fond shake of his head. “There’s still time,” he jokes, earning a beautiful laugh from the man, one that makes his heart soar. His hand tangles itself in Scar’s hair to tug him down, and Scar is more than happy to follow through. Their lips press together in a warm kiss, one they’ve both been waiting for since Grian stood in his doorway. Grian’s body relaxes at the feeling of Scar’s lips on his own, moving in a rhythm that leaks with affection and longing. Scar is warm and soft but still so familiar and comforting; for a moment Grian thinks that all of the frustration of this world might’ve been worth it if he got to kiss Scar like this. It feels like waking up together, like crafting side by side, like falling against one another after a long exhausting day.

It feels like home.

A muffled bird noise spills from Grian’s throat, probably one of contentment that makes Scar laugh against his lips.

“I missed you too, G,” Scar sweetly confesses, pulling back just enough to look at him. Their breaths mix together, foreheads still touching.

Knowing that he never bothered to hide his true reason for coming to Scar, Grian looks up at him with a pout. “Next time you decide to take an extended mining trip, I’m coming with you,” he decides, because weeks without Scar while surrounded by endless sources of frustration was, simply put, hell. Having the rest of his flock nearby made it a little bit easier, but it did little to lessen the yearning. “The nest was too cold,” Grian quietly admits, voice just slightly above a whisper.

If possible, Scar’s expression only softens further, and he’s kissing Grian again. “Well we can’t have a cold nest, can we?” he hums, looking at Grian with a smile. “It’s against avian law, after all!”

Grian snorts with laughter, moving to pull Scar into a hug. “I don’t think the Poe Poe would be very happy about you breaking avian law.”

Scar tucks Grian against him, pressing his lips to the avian’s head. “A cold nest is more than enough to make me a wanted criminal!” he cries.

“Guess the only way to fix that is a warm nest and morning cuddles.”

“An amayzin’ idea there, G.”

“Oi!” Joel sticks his head into the doorway of Scar’s base. His sudden appearance startles the two, making Grian’s feathers fluff up when he looks over at Joel. “Quit your snogging and let’s go fight the dragon already!” he exclaims, impatience lacing his words. Turning around, he calls out, “You owe me five diamonds Jim!”

Jimmy yells something in reply, but Grian doesn’t care to hear it. He looks back at Scar, who’s snickering. “Guess that’s our cue.”

Scar wildly grins, “Let’s go show this dragon who’s boss.”

[nubiawrites]

chapter eight

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Smut. Sex.

Summary: As Aaron and Iriye's connection grows, old flames and new obstacles find their way between them.

Notes: I really love this chapter. But I'll let you guys be the judge of that. Comment, like, reblog, or send me asks. I want to hear your thoughts because I love responding.

MASTERLIST

Rules were simple enough to follow. Little things two people agreed on. Iriye and Aaron had decided to come up with that while spending a weekend at hers. 

“I like this. Us,” Aaron breathed against Iriye’s ear, him the big spoon around her as they cuddled on her couch, her TV playing a rerun of whatever TBS had to show.

“Oh, do you? I couldn’t tell,” Iriye replied, though she could feel his ever-growing length against her backside. “But I agree. I like my weekends with you,” She admitted, facing the full lips, trimmed goatee, and blueish-green eyes that had captivated her. 

They spent five weekends in a row at the others’ place, finding themselves wrapped up in each other. There was the occasional late-night run for groceries or anything they both craved. Glasses and a hat on for Aaron while Iriye did most of the picking out of things.

“I like seeing you during my weekdays,” Aaron spoke, pulling her in by her chin and throat for a kiss and her moaning into his mouth.

“You might get annoyed with me when we have to be around each other,” Iriye stated.

“I just want to kiss you even more.” He pecked her lips once again. “Maybe we can sneak into your office-”

“Where Nelly and Tamara could walk in at any time,” She pointed out.

“Or my trailer.”

“Let’s give a PA a show.”

“Your mind is in the gutter, love,” Aaron chuckled. 

“You’re not supposed to shit where you eat,” Iriye turned to face him fully, her hand trailing her fingers across his chest. “We’ve been seeing each other for a month, officially,”

“Two and a half but whatever you say,” Iriye raised her eyebrow at Aaron and he kissed her again. “I get you’re nervous,”

“I’m not," Iriye retorted.

“Okay, you’re not nervous. So what’s going on?” He asked, rubbing her side softly. She hummed at the touch.

“I just don’t want things to get too… complicated,” Iriye stated, the vulnerability feeling like it was choking her. “I like that it’s just us. That only we know. That we can just be Aaron and Iriye,” 

Aaron nodded along as she spoke, taking it in. But Iriye could see there was something else.

“I don’t want you to overthink this,”

“I’m not,” 

“Relax your brows then,” Iriye playfully brushed her hand over Aaron’s face, an inkling of a smile appearing from him. “We’re in pre-production for Paradise Lost and you’re on Lanterns still. I just want the both of us to be able to focus on our respective jobs when we’re at the lot. But when we’re not there, we can just focus on each other,” Aaron thought it over.

“We both can agree on that,” Aaron stated. “The lot is off limits.” He held up his hand for a pinky promise. “Deal?” Iriye returned her pinky giner to intertwine his.

“Deal.”

The rules were definitely broken. But Iriye liked to think that Aaron started it. 

Aaron had finished with filming, and Iriye was still on the lot, working on some things. It was an innocent meeting under the guise of discussing Paradise Lost. Even if Nelly gave Iriye and Aaron a knowing smirk as she left them alone in the production office.

Iriye kept things professional as she sat across from him on the couch in her office. They reviewed her changes to the Paradise Lost script after some execs had some minor notes. She was focused, but Aaron was focused on something else entirely.

At first, it started with Aaron wanting to make sure he got Iriye’s exact thoughts down for his journal, copying her notes verbatim. He had moved closer to her side of the couch, but she paid it no mind. But then his hand went across the back of her chair as he leaned in, and she caught a whiff of his cologne, causing Iriye to hum softly.

“You good, love?” He asked, smiling at her.

“Fine,” Iriye refocused. 

But it didn’t stop there. Aaron’s hand brushed against her back. His leg bumped into hers as he focused. His cologne was intoxicating her senses. If anything, he was walking temptation. But the real kicker was when he licked his bottom lip. It was over. Iriye was a goner.

With the door to her office locked and the blinds down, Iriye was in Aaron’s lap, crying to the heavens as he lifted her up and down his length. Her nails dug into his shoulders every time he made sure she reached the base of his length, whines and cries escaping her. A grin was on his face as she watched the faces and sounds she made as she was packed to the brim with his thick cock, moaning and groaning in response to her. 

Watching Iriye while Aaron fucked her was becoming a favorite past time of his. Seeing how she gave all of herself over to feeling. How she wasn’t shy about saying what she wanted. About letting him know when something was good. 

“Fuck Aaron,” Iriye moaned into his ear, her tongue moving to lick at it before she playfully bit it. That earned her a smack to her ass.

“You’re so wet. What made you so wet, baby girl?” Aaron teased, not letting up on fucking her on his length. He was playing with her under the guise of being calm and controlled.

“You…” Iriye moaned, her body trying to hold on, but the feel of his length inside of her was so good.

“I’m making you feel this good,” Aaron groaned. He slammed against her G-spot, and Iriye could swear she could die happily at just the feeling. “Answer me, Iriye.”

“You’re making me feel this good, baby.” Her bra-clad breasts were bouncing in his face, her shirt long gone. He let his tongue slither across the skin, a hand coming up to tug one of the cups out of the way and pull a perky brown nipple into his mouth. “Aaron,” She cried.

Aaron could feel her walls tightening around his length as he continued to fuck her and suck at her breast. He moved to her other breast, and Iriye whined.

“Fuck, you’re so tight love,” Aaron groaned into her breast, sucking on the nipple before biting teasingly. “You’re gonna make me cum,” Iriye squeezed her walls around him and that earned her a hard thrust up from him. 

“Right there,” Iriye cried.

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” Iriye followed his directions, Aaron drilling up into her and making cries and moans escape her body. 

“Oh god!” She cried out, her face pressing against his as she let him fuck the life out of her. His lips pressed feverishly to her skin as he continued his thrusts. Her nails dragged down his scalp, grasping onto him and his body as his stamina kept him fucking his length inside of her. 

“God, your pussy was made for me, Iriye,” He whispered into her shoulder. “Fuck baby,”

Iriye whined out as she felt her walls tightening around him even more. He thrust against her g spot a few more times, pulling more cries from Iriye.

“Just like that! You’re fucking me so good,” Iriye whined. “You’re gonna make me come,” Aaron pulled back to watch her face.

“Come for me,” Aaron slipped one hand from her ass, his fingers finding her clit and circling it to match the pace he was setting inside of her. Iriye had no room to go against him as she was helping him fuck her on his length, her hips meeting his as chased that end. “Iriye,”

Iriye cried out as she felt the waves crash down on her, Aaron still fucking her through it. Her hips bucked as her orgasm were intense, pussy clenching around him as she trembled in his arms. Aaron continued pounding his length into her, groans against her skin. 

Iriye kissed every patch of Aaron’s skin she could get to, their lips finding each other’s as Aaron cried out, his end hitting him hard as he gave into his orgasm, shooting into the condom he wore. Hearing him cry out her name into her mouth just made Iriye want to go again.

Chest heaving, Iriye buried her face into Aaron’s chest once she pulled away and she felt relaxed, her pussy still spasming ever so often around him.

“Didn’t expect that when I came in here for a meeting,” Aaron chuckled, placing kisses on her shoulder. Iriye pulled back to look at his handsome face and playfully rolled her eyes.

“Lies,” Iriye shook her head. Aaron placed a hand to his heart.

“I’m innocent,” Iriye just chuckled.

“Nothing about how you just fucked me is innocent,” Iriye pulled back, seeing her juices coating his condom covered length. “Glad to know these aren’t just for show,” She playfully squeezed his shoulder. Aaron chuckled, leaning in to kiss her softly. 

“Well if you’re in the mood for not so innocent fucking, we should probably go back to my place,” Aaron stated, his hand rubbing her bare thigh. 

“You’re absoutely correct, Mister Pierre,” She said in her best British accent. “How did I do?

“Eh,” Iriye playfully smacked his chest before he pulled her in for another kiss. 

“Let me go to the bathroom and freshen up,” Iriye moaned as she slid off of his length and found her panties and jeans. Iriye looked back at Aaron adjusting himself before heading for the bathroom.

Once she was freshened up, Iriye walked back to the production office but was surprised when she saw a familiar face about to reach for the handle to the Lanoire Production Office.

“Jay?” Iriye said, seeing the taller Black man at the production office door. Jay turned back to her and smiled, a smile that once had Iriye clenching in excitement now had her feel with sadness and dread. 

“Hey Iriye,” Jay tried to reach in for a hug while Iriye held out her hand, the two laughing at the awkwardness of the exchange.

“Didn’t think we would be like those white folks in a meet cute,” Jay stated.

“Well things are different now,” Iriye replied.

“Right,” Jay adjusted his backpack strap.

“Were you here for Tamara?” Iriye asked. “She left an hour or so ago,”

“Nah. I was coming by to check in on you,” Jay ran a hand at the back of his neck. 

“I don’t think it’s proper ettiquette to check in on the person who broke your heart, Jay,” Iriye stated.

“Yeah but we were friends before we were lovers, Iriye,” Iriye softened a little. “I miss my friend,” She could see the honesty in his eyes.

“I missed my friend too,” Iriye said. “But I meant it when I said I think I’m better off with having a friend than a boyfriend months ago,” 

“Yeah, it’s for the best.” Jay stated. “And look what the focus got you. Congratulations to you and Paradise Lost. You deserve everything and more, Iriye,”

Those words sent her replaying through her mind the last time they spoke, how things were left off. Before she could respond, the door to the production office opened and Aaron stepped out into the hallway.

“Hi,” Iriye said, trying to remained composed in front of both Jay and Aaron for two different reasons.

“I’m going to head out, but thank you for staying to talk through the script again,” Aaron said to Iriye, a mischief in his eye before turning his attention to Jay. “I’m Aaron.” He offered his hand to Jay.

“Jay Johnson.” Jay shook Aaron’s hand, a smile coming on his face. “My buddy works on Lanterns.”

“Cast or crew?” Aaron turned the charm on, and Jay returned the smile, Iriye trying to eye the situation carefully. 

“Crew. He’s on the best boy side of things. But he’s enjoying it,” Jay stated.

“That’s good to hear.” Aaron nodded. 

“Aaron is going to star in Paradise Lost.” Iriye gave a small smile over to Aaron, trying to keep it polite. 

“Tamara told me. You’re doing it, Iriye. I’m happy for you.” Jay had rose colored glasses on, and Iriye was nervous about Aaron witnessing it. “You have a future Emmy and Oscar winner writing you into her world, Aaron.”

“I’m grateful for the opportunity that she wants me to be a part of the cinematic world she’s created,” Aaron was trying to follow Iriye’s lead. Her poker face was good, and she noticed that about her when they were around others. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Nice meeting you, Jay,” He turned his attention to Iriye. “I’ll see you at the chemistry reading.” Aaron nodded before heading out. 

“He’s really that tall in person,” Jay said, straightening to his full six-foot-tall height. Iriye rolled her eyes. 

“I really should get back inside, Jay. It’s been a long day, and I gotta finish up some stuff,” Iriye stated.

“Yeah, I’ll let you go.” Jay leaned in, and Iriye hugged him, trying to keep it friendly while knowing that the feeling was something she would eventually get used to. Not being as close as they once were. A platonic love she felt for him instead of the romantic one he felt for her. When they pulled away, Jay left, and she was stuck with what it meant that she didn’t feel anything for him.

Iriye made it to Aaron’s place in record time, grabbing the overnight bag she had packed in case she would stay at his. She entered the building, made it to his door, and knocked. A minute later, Aaron was opening it up, and he pulled her in, kissing her properly once she was in.

“How are you feeling?” Aaron asked her as she entered.

“I’m fine,” Iriye said, dropping her bag by the door and kissing him softly. “You up for round two?” Iriye ran her hands over his neck and shoulders. He walked down to the couch and pulled her legs onto his lap.

“I meant about you and Jay,” Aaron said with a soft tilt of his head. Iriye looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean?” Iriye wasn’t trying to play dumb, but she didn’t want to dig into her ex and the drama that came along with it. 

“You two are exes. I’m good at picking up on things like that.” He began removing her shoes, his hands moving to massage her feet. “Want to talk about it?”

“Aaron, you don’t need to be jealous of him,” Iriye flipped the script.

“I’m not. I have no reason to be," He stated. “I don’t want to push you, but I feel like you’re holding back with me.” Iriye moved her legs from his lap, sitting back against the couch.

“I’m not holding back. We’re both busy people. We haven’t even defined what this is,” Iriye ran a hand through her goddess locs, untangling some of her hair.

“Then let's have that talk.” Aaron turned towards her. “I like you. I like being around you. Spending weekends and weeknights with you over the past two months has been something I look forward to.”

“Aaron-“ Iriye sighed.

“Let me finish,” Aaron demanded. Iriye raised a brow at him before relaxing. “I want whatever you want from this. From me. For us. The ball is in your court. You make the choices. I want you.”

Iriye looked Aaron in the eyes, seeing the pupils of blue and green mixing as he stared at her. He was too gorgeous to be real. Her hand went to his cheek, feeling the light stubble on his chin. 

“I like us just figuring this out,” Iriye stated, stroking his chin. She leaned in to kiss him softly, her eyes shutting at the feel. She pulled back after she felt his tongue lick along the seams, begging for entrance. “None of that. We got the final chemistry read with Vivian tomorrow.”

“I know,” Aaron continued to kiss her, pulling her in his arms and leading her to his bedroom.

Two rounds later, Iriye laid out across from Aaron, both of them naked as the day they were born. His fingers traced the back of her leg, and she hummed softly, her eyes trying to fight sleep.

“What’s your biggest fear?” Aaron asked her, his fingers massaging the cramp he had caused from her third orgasm. 

“Hmm?” Iriye opened her eyes to look at him, the moonlight peeking in from the window, hitting his skin.

“Your biggest fear?” He asked, Iriye pulling the pillow closer to herself. Tiredness was seeping into her bones, especially as she felt Aaron crawl closer to her, kissing up her body. Iriye took a moment to try to gather her thoughts, Aaron’s kisses distracting her.

“People leaving,” Iriye whined when she felt him stop kissing her. “Don’t stop.”

“Why so?” Aaron reached her eyes, and she was overcome with shyness. The intensity of his gaze was getting to her, but she couldn’t escape it.

“Because you can never make them stay,” Iriye stated. “I wasn’t enough to make them stay.”

Iriye blinked several times, trying to fight the urge to sleep. She heard Aaron whisper words softly to her.

“I’ll stay, Iriye.”

Morning came, and Iriye shared the shower with Aaron, kisses shared between lovers. It was early, but she would take all the time she could get with him. Once they were dressed, more kisses were exchanged, and they went their separate ways.

Iriye couldn’t keep the smile off her face before the chemistry read. As she settled at video village, where she had her headphones, she saw the camera focusing on Vivian Kincaid.

“She is something.” Nelly handed Iriye a coffee, and Iriye thanked her.

“Maybe, but that something may not work for our film,” Iriye stated. She watched as Tamara set Vivian and Aaron up for their scene.

“You’re right. But they do look good together?” Nelly remarked.

“What?” Iriye raised a brow at Nelly.

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” Nelly said as she sat beside her as Tamara returned.

“You guys ready?” Tamara stated. Iriye nodded, putting her headphones on.

Iriye watched as Aaron ran through the scene. Vivian could hang with him, but little things were still missing. 

Tamara called cut, taking a moment to think before she turned to Iriye.

“Can you give her the note?”

Iriye straightened up and tried to get through this without any interactions. But she had a role to play: the writer.

Iriye got up and approached Vivian as the makeup artist touched her face. Vivian smiled softly.

“I’m Ir-”

“I know who you are. Iriye Edwards,” Vivian shook her hand, a graceful smile coming onto her face.

“Oh, we’re on a first and last name basis,” Iriye was intrigued.

“I’m sorry. I just went down a rabbit hole after I read the script. When my manager got their hands on it and sent it to me, I knew I had to be a part of it.”

“Interesting,” Iriye stated.“Well, I just wanted to give you some insight.” She stated.

“Anything and everything is welcomed. Can I admit something? I’m nervous. Aaron is intense.” Vivian explained.

“Don’t I know it,” Iriye chuckled, knowing she had to get the woman to relax. “But he’s not Aaron. He’s Isaiah, and you’re Nora,” She said. “You’ve read the script. You know this character left and right.” 

“I do. I read the script so many times. I know everything.”

“Good. Now throw it all out the window,” Iriye could see the contemplation on her face. “You’re in your head. You need to be more present. Nora is a wildfire. She knows what she wants. She’ll go to all ends to do it. Now, show me who you believe Nora is and make me believe it.” 

Iriye watched Vivian take a moment to ground herself before walking away. Iriye smiled at Aaron as she caught his eye, him returning it. She settled back at video village, Tamara smiling.

“Not you trying to take my job,” Tamara teased.

“Me direct? Never,” Iriye chuckled. She watched Aaron come into focus as the camera operator took him in. Iriye took him in, and even through the monitor, he took her breath away. 

“Okay… action,” Tamara called.

All the executives were glued to the screen, and the moment was electric as Vivian followed her suggestions. Iriye could admit that both Aaron and Vivian looked good together, and the words and characters she created came to life. But it went to another level with Vivian grabbing Aaron right before her last line. She pulled him close, and both drew into it, Vivian kissing Aaron.

“And cut! We’re gonna take a ten,” Tamara called, going over to Vivian and Aaron.

And while everyone clapped, Iriye felt something she had never felt before: jealousy.

@wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood

[baniisharur0tte]

Thank You, Miss <3

synopsis: u and ur bf!Choso went on a date to a sex shop and he wants you to put them to use on him!!!

word count: 2.8k <3

content: SMUT !!!! 18+ !!!!!! sub!choso x servicedom!reader, vibrator/toy play, mommy/miss, praise kink, pet names (pretty, good boy, etc.) slight degradation kink, P-->V penetration, oral (M!receiving)

(authors note: this was a smutty drabble, im working on something with more plot for choso. the People's Princess deserves a LOVING and BEAUTIFUL story and i will give that to him, mark my words. PS: loosely proofread, if you see mistakes, no you didn't. all the love!!! thanks 4 reading <333)

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"can you make them tighter?" choso mumbles shyly as you tie his hands to the bed frame, straddling his stomach.

you look down at him, his eyes shining up at you. he always looks at you like he'd bring down the sun for you. his eyes, so trusting and warm for you as you put him in such a vulnerable position.

"of course i can, sweet boy." you say as you pull the satin rope tighter, he stifles a whimper as his breath catches in his throat.

you lean over to collect all the fun toys you went out at bought together yesterday- choso had so many ideas to share with you. perusing the aisles of the sex shop together, he kept picking stuff up and saying "we should try this!" or "this one looks fun!" or "could you use this on me?" you thought he was so cute, you bought them all for him- who knows if he even knew how they all worked.

laying them all out on the bed beside you now, you had so many choices. he was tied up and naked on your bed, cock twitching and throbbing as he waited in anxious anticipation for you to touch him.

"let's see...." you purr gently as you run your finger over all the toys. a cock ring, a vibrator wand, a vibrating butt plug, a clear pocket pussy, a ball gag, a strap, there was so many possibilities.

let's start off slow, poor boy has never done any of this before, you think to yourself.

you pick up the wand and push the rest of it aside.

you straddle his thigh in nothing but your thin, clingy underwear. you turn it on, his eyes widen and he winced slightly at the buzz as you hold it in the air. grabbing the base of his cock, you say softy, "are you ready? it might be a lot for you, love."

looking down at you with his poor little puppy eyes, he nods "mhm.. i can do it."

you slowly trace from the base of his cock to the underside of his tip lightly, introducing the sensation to him.

"ha-ahh oh my god~" he shudders and bucks his hips as you make contact with him.

poor thing, so sensitive.

"shhhh it's okay, im gonna go slow. tell me how it feels, sweet boy." you say as you slowly run it up and down the length of his cock, adding more pressure bit by bit.

"it feels really good, i like the toy you picked. thank you for using it on me~" he whimpered shyly, trying to hide his face in his shoulder. his long lean frame began to become stained with a delicate pink blush spreading from his chest up to his high, angled cheekbones.

with his arms pulled up, the sharp cut of his ribs rose and fell with his heavy panting as he indulged in the pleasure of your soft hands and the vibrator you were rubbing up and down his throbbing, leaking cock.

you lean down to spit on it, wetting his cock and rubbing it around with the head of the wand.

"oh fuck-hngh- thank you for getting me wet for you~" he slurs out, already rolling his hips and whimpering. "it already feels so good, thank you so much mommy~"

"of course my love, you deserve this. you've been so good to me, i need to return the favor" you coo with low eyes.

you start grinding on his thigh. watching your sweet boy fall apart in your hands had you aching and dripping. your own pleasure neglected, you were soaking through your panties, making a mess on him already.

his eyes shoot open, looking up to watch you grind on him, stroking his cock and holding the head of the vibrator to the sensitive spot under the tip of his cock. "yes, use me to please yourself. oh god- please use me however you need. i just want to entertain you mommy, my body is for you~" he cries out bucking his hips up, causing your hips to stutter hard on his thigh.

you pick up the pace with your hands to meet the pace you were grinding your clit into his strong thighs. he threw his head back, throaty "aahh, ahhh, ooh fuck, ahh~"s fell from his lips. his hips rolled, carrying you with his movements on your thigh. studying the sharp pointed angle of his jaw, the gentle V of his neck muscles, trailing down to his abs flexing with every weak thrust into your hand, his happy trail leading to dark tufts decorating the base of his cock.

such a gentle kind of beauty. such a pretty boy.

it felt so good to ride his thigh, but it would feel even better to watch him squirm and whine with his cock down your throat.

you swing your leg off his thigh, leaving behind a sticky wet mess matting down his hair. he picks his head up in alarm as he watches you find your place between his legs.

"w-what are you doing? did it not feel good ? i'm sorry mommy please let me do better" he whined, looking so pathetic and sad.

you coo at him, caressing his cheek, "shhh, it's okay puppy. i just wanted to please you more, you are doing amazing. just relax, this is your special reward for being so good. it would be such a shame if you didn't enjoy it."

he presses his face into your hand with a look of pure adoration.

"of course i'm enjoying it!!! i always enjoy when you t-touch me, miss. i'm sorry, please do whatever you want to me."

he relaxes, laying his head back down.

you move the vibrator down to the base of his cock, and take the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. his breath catches in his throat and his entire body tightens as he feels your mouth sink down around him.

"god, yes thank you, your mouth feels amazing, thank you for sucking on my cock~"

you push down deeper into your mouth, letting him slide into the back of your throat. you gently roll the vibrator back and forth rocking it along the remaining length of his cock. slowly bobbing your head up and down, milking his cock with your tongue.

his panting and grunts began to grow louder, his breath hitching and forcing deep guttural moans to rip from his throat every time you suck back down on him, the head of his throbbing twitching cock hitting the back of your throat. you quicken your pace until he can't help but thrust back up into you. he starts devolving into pathetic cries and whimpers, mewling and hiccuping at the overwhelming pleasure you are forcing him to experience. the slurping and squelching of him fucking your face resonated around the room. you were drooling pools on his cock, it began to run down the sides of his pointed hips, running along the V under his abs.

"y-you're dripping down my balls, m-mommy. you're making such a mess of me, please slow down or i'm gonna cum down your fucking throat~" he cried out desperately between sniffles and whimpers as he wept from the pleasure.

this only made you suck his cock faster, pushing in harder with the vibrator. his legs began to tremble and his sweet moans were even more pathetic. he was a puddle in your hands, sputtering out a slew of "please miss"s and "i can't take it"s. he was straining against the makeshift hand cuffs, desperately chasing your mouth and trembling as he approached his orgasm.

"f-fuck im close- ahh, ahh, ahh- mommy i'm gonna cum, im gonna cum down your throat!! fuuuucckkk ahh ahh~"

with that, you stopped abruptly pulling your mouth and the vibrator off.

his eyes shot open as he tried to sit up to look at you, he was frantically bucking his hips to find something to help him finish.

"why did you do that?? please let me cum, it hurts so badly!!! my cock hurts, it's throbbing so hard miss"

squeezing his eyes shut and trembling he continues babbling, "my balls are so tight and heavy, and i've been such a good boy. please make me cum, i need you so bad!!!"

tears streaming down his red glowing face, sweat beading his forehead and chest.

"don't worry, cho," you purr, straddling his cock, rigid and red with pent-up frustration.

"i just needed to feel you, that's all. you want my cum, don't you baby?"

you grab his cock and smear the tip between your wet lips, rocking back and forth teasing him.

he nodded hard, nearly shaking the bed around. "yes, yes, please fuck me. please please fuck me mommy. i need your sweet pussy, please let me cum inside you, i promise i'll do a good job fucking you, i want to please you more than anything~" he rambled between desperate pants and small whimpers as you teased him ruthlessly, taking your sweet time before slowly sinking down onto his cock.

"so chatty aren't you, love?" you tease, he tucks his head into his shoulder again, shying away from your raillery.

the slow pull as your pussy sucks his cock in forces his body to wrack with shuddering pleasure. his eyes rolled back and his jaw went slack as he choked back throaty moans.

"i-it's so tight~" he pants out breathlessly.

slowly you begin rolling your hips on him, your own moans spilling out as you brace your hands on his strong chest.

you move faster, bouncing up and down on his cock crashing into his hips with a wet smack! over and over again as his cockhead slams into your cervix, deliciously stimulating your g-spot with every move.

"ahh, im not gonna last- you need to slow down, please mommy~" he babbled, already pussydrunk and bucking up into you to meet your pace.

you listen, he's such a good boy after all. he deserves for you to take your time. you slow down, grinding your clit on the dark tufts of hair at the base of his cock, matted down with drool and slick.

you cup his face saying "okay baby, how about you show me how good of a job you can do?"

his eyes light up, and he nods shyly. you lean in and kiss him sloppily. he moans into your mouth as he slowly thrusts into you deeply, rolling his hips searching for that one spot that makes you scream his name.

"fuck" he hisses, breaking the kiss and locking eyes with you. his pouty lips fall open into an 'o', glossy with your spit. his eyebrows knit together in a look of pleasure as he draws languid strokes into your creamy wet pussy.

"a-am i doing a good job, mommy?" he said quietly in anticipation.

already feeling your own orgasm begin to coil in your stomach, hearing him beg for your praise only made you closer.

"yes baby, you are-fuck- doing amazing. you make me feel amazing" you choke out between breathy pants

"tell me again, p-please say it again miss~" he whines, desperate for your approval.

"you're cock-ahhhh- is making me close ~ i'm gonna cum soon cho~" you reply louder, panting and groaning against his neck, unable to hold yourself up anymore as you feel yourself tighten around him, his hips pistoning into your wet pussy. you are barely able to drown out the sounds of your squelching pussy as you talk to him.

a mess of 'yeah, mommy?"s and "fuck, i can't stop"s spill from his lips as he pumps his cock into you, stuttering sloppily. you clench around him tighter and faster, one last deep thrust into you and you are both throwing your heads back in ecstasy as you cum together, grinding your hips down onto him to catch extra friction on your clit as you ride it out. his voice cracks, mewling and hiccuping as his big, pathetic cock dumps a load of cum inside you, spilling out around your lips.

panting a few loose "good job, baby"s to him, slowly you pick yourself up. you reach over and begin untying his hands. before you could finish freeing him, he's already giving you weak, lazy thrusts up into you, still just as hard as before.

"no, please im not done~ im still full of cum i need to give you, miss" he pouts, slowly rolling his hips into you, causing more of his thick hot cum to spill out and squelch under your thighs.

"don't worry, messy boy. i'm not done using you yet. come, sit up."

he follows your lead as you slowly pry yourself off his cock, dribbling out the last of his cum onto the bed. you turn over, ass in the air arching your back as you lay your head down onto the mattress.

"come give it to me pretty~ fuck me like you won't live without it, my cho" you purr, teasing him by wiggling your ass in the air.

his eyes grow wide, like a kid in a candy store. his pries your cheeks open to watch your sweet pussy throb around nothing, still drooling cum and slick.

he gently rubs two fingers over your soft wet lips, "really?? s-so pretty..." he mumbles to himself, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean. he groans at the taste, both of your mess you made together.

he sits up on his knees, leveling his cock with you, copying your moves by teasing himself with your pussy lips before slowwlyyy sinking his thick length back into you.

"ohhhh god-fuck mommyyyy" he groans lasciviously as he feels your pussy wrap around him again. he reaches around to place a hand on your tummy, rolling his hips slowly to feel the distended push of his cock inside you.

"i can feel how deep i am inside you, it's too much i can't take it~" he whines, but his body betrays him. he grabs fistfuls of the fat on your ass as he stutters and thrusts into you, already fucking you fast and hard like the desperate, pathetic boy he was for you.

drooling and gasping into the sheets, you scramble to grab onto whatever you can to steady yourself as he fucks into you.

"good boy, cho!! yes, fuck me harder baby~"

he's grunting like an animal, whimpering and mewling as he watches your ass jiggle and your pussy suck him back in with every wet smack! of his hips on your ass. "stop it- fuck ahh- don't say that mommy i won't last for you~" he cries, fucking you harder as you requested. he reaches down, his hand on the back of your neck pushing you down harder into the bed as he fucked you so hard it stung your ass, leaving red marks where he slammed into you. his balls slapping you clit over and over again, you felt that familiar stirring in your stomach as you got closer and closer.

"oh fuck, your gonna make mommy cum on your cock baby!!! keep going, harder cho~"

"stop saying that please, your gonna make me cum too!!" he panicked, heavy raspy breathing as his pace became more erratic.

he began to whisper "stop it, god please stop~" to himself like a mantra, drilling his cock deep into your pussy.

you felt yourself squeeze his cock as you came, gushing up his length with a scream, muffling yourself in the mattress.

he couldn't take it, your orders to fuck you harder, your pussy milking his cock for more cum, and now you were gushing all over him? he couldn't hold back anymore, it was so sad how much of a slave he was to your pleasure.

"f-fuck, you squirted on me mommy!!" he whined as he came, choking on his own moans, crying out like it was torture to know how well he pleased you.

he pulled your hips back down onto him, delicious wet smacks of your squirt and the slap of his balls on your clit resounded as he dumped another fat load of cum deep in your pussy, feeling himself pulse against your cervix. he cried out "im gonna- fuck im sorry-!m'cumming mommy! fuck-m'cumming! m'cumming!!"

he collapsed on top of you, his body shuddering and wracked with pleasure. he started kissing and licking your neck with little whimpers and "thank you"s as you both came down.

he became quiet and stilled as both of your breathing returned to normal.

"c-can i tell you a secret, miss?"

your brain fuzzy from your orgasm, you turn to him and slur out "of course, pretty. what is it?"

"i'm still not done, do you think i can have one more please?" he says quietly, shyly tucking his head into the crook of your neck and slowly rolling his hips into you to show you he was still rock hard.

"did i do good enough to deserve one more?"

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(AAAHHHHH IM NAWING ON TGE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE GIMME HIM NEEEOOOOOWWW)

(also i want to do part ??s to cover all the sex toys, i'll post follow ups when the inspiration strikes)

ps: he sounds like this.

[homiesexuallaj]

“Jackass.” “..Dumbass kid.”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Genre/Warnings: fluff, both live in the compound, enemies??/frienemies?? to lovers, name calling (nothing like hateful though), blood, wounds, stitches, thorns, food sharing, sick! reader, grumpy but caring! bucky, kinda proofread

Summary: You and Bucky hate each other's guts, or so you thought. Over the years of your rivalry/friendship, you two seem to soften up ever so slightly. And just in time for Valentine’s Day!

prompts:

one // two // three

———

Bucky Barnes. Local resident jackass.

You two had been at each other’s throats since you first ever met. Both of you were stubborn and had “my way or the highway” attitudes. It was horrible since you two lived in the compound with a few others, and even worse when you two had missions together.

Steve was always placing a large palm on Bucky’s shoulder. Sam always had a hand rubbing at the stress lines on his face as he begged you two to “take a break.” Natasha was always working to keep you two separate, dragging you away to the city, her apartment, or your room.

But living in the same place, in the same building. It was always like a ticking time bomb if you two spotted each other across the room. It was always a staring contest, checked shoulders, and snarky comments.

“You look like shit.” “What’d you do? Fall in the middle of a bull run?” “Oh god, you’re coming?” “Old man.” “Fucking kid.” “You’re a dumbass.” “Fuck off.” “Would you get?!” “Quit that!”

But there was an… oddness to your dynamic.

With watchful eyes when the other wasn’t paying attention. Or a freshly brewed pot of coffee in the middle of the night. An oddly placed book that was bound to catch attention. Held doors. And allowed first dibs on the bed of the assigned safe house. Or looming over your shoulder if some random guy tried to talk to you either out in public or on a mission.

Hell, you could barely talk to any guys at the bar before they were throwing fleeting glances over your shoulder before they scampered off. You turned around only to meet Bucky’s irritating blue gaze staring you down over the edge of his glass of whiskey. You’d always turn around, sit down at the bar, and order something stronger.

It’s even worse if you try to bring a guy home. It’s always, “Who's this?” “Where’d you met him?” “How long have you known him?” “One night!?” “..Well, where does he work?” “What kind of car does he drive?” “What’s the license plate number?” “What’s his mom’s maiden name?” “What high school did he go to?” “Where did he go to college?” “What bank does he bank with?” “You know his social security number?”

“Bucky-!”

“What?!” . . . “Get out.”

And off goes the guy.

“You’re a jackass.”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you stopped bringing weird guys home.”

And then you’re storming off to your room and slamming the door shut. You throw yourself down on your bed and make grumbly noises into your pillow as you rant to yourself. Then, you’re reaching into your nightstand drawer to fish out something that could help you with your personal problem that you were originally going to deal with- with another human person, not an electronic vibrator.

And good god. Don’t even get started on the fact that you can’t even get stood up on a date alone.

You had made a reservation for one of the nicer restaurants down in Brooklyn. You were supposed to meet a guy here you met online. But thirty minutes pass. And then an hour. The guy’s a no show.

So, there you are in a nice, crimson colored dress and all alone with a meal for one. You’re not even hungry anymore. Picking at your food as you sip at a bottle of beer you traded for a glass of champagne. When to your right, someone goes,

“Beer? Really?”

You look up.

There’s Bucky. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and slacks, of course with his famous leather gloves. His hair is brushed back, but a singular strand falls over his forehead. If you two didn’t hate each other so much, you might even say he’s handsome. But he’s totally, definitely not handsome at all, nuh uh.

"You've been teasing me all this time about being single just for you to get stood up?" He says with a bemused expression. Clearly, Bucky is entertained by your suffering.

You don’t say anything. You send him a glare instead before you’re looking back down at your food, which is room temperature now. And then you’re jostled to the side as a bulky body shoves you down the booth.

"Move over,” Bucky demands, shoving his way into the booth to sit beside you. “You're lucky I'm hungry."

“There’s a whole other booth, Barnes,” You point to the empty booth.

“This one looks comfier,” Bucky shrugs, picking up your fork so he can start munching down on your pasta.

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way Bucky is practically pressed into you. Your thighs touch and your shoulders are pressed together. The fabric of his dress shirt is soft against your exposed arm. You ignore the way that neither of you two make a move to separate from each other or the way Bucky tosses an arm across the back of the booth while you wait to pay. Except, Bucky doesn’t give you a chance to pay. He slaps your hand away, throwing down his credit card that you weren’t even sure he understood how it worked.

He does understand how it works, he argues. You don’t believe him one bit.

“Thank you,” You say as Bucky and you walk out into the parking lot.

“Don’t mention it,” He replied with a hand on your lower back.

And you don’t. You never do. Even if it’s something you think about every night with your thoughts running wild and second guessing every emotion you have.

Though, you don’t even notice your dynamic changing bit by bit after that ruined date. You’re too busy having aggressive staring contests and spitting out snarky comments to notice a change.

You’re oblivious to the way Bucky’s eyes are a little softer when they look your way or how his shoulder always brushes against yours when he’s near you. Or that he starts joining team movie nights, replacing Sam’s spot beside you after the first night he joined because he didn’t like you and Sam all cuddled up on the couch. And he hated the way you two whispered and giggled with each other during the movie. Or how you two shared a blanket. Bucky hated it.

So, the next movie night when he stole Sam’s spot and Sam protested, Bucky only told him to “go find another spot” and that “it won’t kill you if you don’t sit besides her.”

So, Sam has to relent. And he prays to whatever god above that you two don’t bite each other’s heads off during the movie. And he’s presently surprised you two don’t.

You don’t notice either that Bucky always has a spare mug sat beside the coffee machine if you have another one of your restless nights. Or the way he starts reaching for your hand if you cross a street or if you have to temporary separate from a mission. Nor that Bucky seems to “absentmindedly” interlock your pinkies on the way back from a mission if you two sit beside each other. Cause you two are always sat beside each other now.

You don’t notice until Natasha is bringing it up.

“So when did you and Bucky get all buddy-buddy?” Natasha asked you over the music of the bar the team has congregated in for the night.

You cock and eyebrow her way, sipping on your season edition of Strawberry Blonde Shiner beer.

“What do you mean?” You ask, swallowing the cool liquid down.

“Well.. y’know..,” She trails off, swirling around her own beer.

“No,” You look at Natasha seriously. “I don’t know.”

“Well, how you two are around each other all the time now,” Natasha tries, giving you an expectant look. When you’re still looking confused, she continues. “Like during movie nights, he took Sam’s spot. Or how he never shoulder checks you anymore and his smartass comments your way have lessened. Even his tone has less bite to it than it used to. Or how he’s always gotta be touching you now, like a hand on your back or a pinkie interlocked with yours.”

The red-head lists off example after example. Though, she gives up when you don’t seem to come to an enlightenment or when you don’t agree that maybe Bucky is softer with you now. That he’s been getting softer since your ruined date, or even since before then. You don’t know. You don’t know cause you don’t notice. Just like you don't notice the watchful blue eyes from across the bar.

Though, a little light shines through the crack of your mental walls in the dim kitchen of a safe house off in Germany.

There’s blood in the sink, smeared across your shoulder and hands, splattered across your face, and dripping down your side.

You did your best to clean up, but the tear in your side limited your movements. And with too much of shaky hands, you had to let someone else stitch you up. That someone else was Bucky, who’d knelt down at your side before you could even say “no.”

You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth as you suffered through the pain of being stitched up without any painkillers expect the decent bottle of vodka. Your fingers twitched with every stab of the needle and your lip curled into a grimace as you felt the thread being pulled through your skin. You had the fight back the queasiness that you weren’t sure if it was from the pain or the blood loss.

Bucky knelt beside you on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. He was face to face with your side as he wove the needle and thread in and out of your torn skin. His eyebrows were scrunched and his eyes concentrated. And he was silent for once. No smartass comments or words of encouragement, not that you would expect any from him. Bucky’s hands were deft and rough. The callouses felt like sandpaper against the sensitive skin of your ribcage.

Soon enough, Bucky was done. He stood up, threw out trash and cleaned up his bloody hands. He scrubbed all the way up to his elbows, getting rid of any blood and grime that may have lingered still. He hadn’t even tossed your slightly undressed form a glance over as he wrapped up your abdomen with gauze.

“Lost a lot of blood,” Bucky commented.

He’d brought a cold, wet washcloth up to your face as he began to wipe away at the blood there. The man still had that stupid concentrated look in his eyes.

“No shit,” You say with a tone that’s a little harsher than intended. Blame it on the pain and the lightheadedness you feel.

You watched as Bucky wiped your face off, wiped down your right shoulder and bicep, and wiped the exposed skin of your torso. You looked Bucky over, taking note of his own wounds and scrapes that he had yet to tend to.

Once done, Bucky looked back up at your face and stared. Just stared right into your eyes. He wasn’t looking around and he didn’t seem to be searching for anything. He was silent.

You ignored the way your heart seemed to pick up in your chest. You couldn’t tell if it was from nervousness or another emotion. Your brain was too foggy with pain still to decipher your feelings.

“What?” You asked with a normal volume of voice, not bothering to keep your voice down. Hopefully it would scare Bucky out of this weird, up close staring contest.

“Go get something sweet to eat. Keeps your blood sugar up,” Is all Bucky says as he breaks away and mills about, wiping down any affected area in the kitchen from the impromptu stitching.

You don’t protest or even argue. You go over to dig in your jacket and fish out a couple heart shaped suckers you snagged from in town.

It was February. Why not indulge a little in the heart-shaped candy that lined the shelves of almost any store around this time of year?

You gotten through about two and a half suckers before you began to doze off on the couch. The stick of the third sucker still hung from your mouth, still with your lack of movement. You’d didn’t have time to protest or process when the candy was yanked from between your teeth, pulling you from your dozing state.

“Hey!” You sat up straight but instantly regretted it with the painful pull in your side. “I was eating that!!”

“I’m not stitching you up just to have you choke and die on some stupid ass sucker,” Bucky pointed at you with the sucker, looking down at you with a harsh glare.

“I was not going to choke and die,” You protest, settling back down into the couch.

“Uh huh,” Bucky muttered as he made his way around the couch to sit down beside you. “And my first name isn’t James.”

Bucky popped the sucker into his mouth, taking no regard for that fact that it was just in yours. He was completely unbothered by the fact, toeing off his boots before propping his feet up on the wooden coffee table.

You grumbled, sinking back into the couch and pulling your own feet up to yourself. It took you a minute, but eventually you dozed right off again. Your brain was exhausted and your body was doing its job on tiring you out so you could get some well-needed rest.

Never mind that when Sam and Natasha came in from outside, Bucky still had the heart-shaped sucker in his mouth and your legs across his lap. The tv was off, holding the room in an almost comfortable silence. Or, it was silent to Sam and Natasha.

You start to come to terms with the fact that Bucky seems to care for you, for some odd reason, when you get sick. Not just sniffly, sneezing, stay in your pajamas all day sick. More of sweaty, feverish, sleep all day, barely eat or drink anything kind of sick. For three days, no less.

Your fever was so high, you could barely keep a shirt on. But you did as Natasha kept coming in to check on you and keep you stocked up on gatorade and pedialyte. You were between kicking your blankets off or snuggling up under at least five. You switched between laying on your side, huddled under your blankets, on your stomach with arms around your pillow, or on your back with your t-shirt pulled up to expose your stomach in order to try and keep cool.

You currently laid in the latter position, on your back with an arm tossed over your eyes to shield the light shining in through your cracked bedroom door. You could hear the muffled voices of two people bickering from somewhere out in the common area of the living floor. But they were too quiet and you were too exhausted to try and listen in.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky and Natasha were arguing which food to try and feed you for dinner. You haven’t eaten for three days now and your fever, while dwindling, was ever persistent.

“She needs to eat something spicy! Something to sweat out the fever and clear her sinuses!” Natasha protested, holding a packet of spicy ramen.

“No, she needs something that she’ll actually eat and that’ll keep her hydrated,” Bucky countered, already holding two cans of chicken noodle soup in his hands.

“And how do you know what she likes?” Natasha asked, holding an accusatory tone. “You hated her guts only just a year ago!”

“I didn’t hate her guts!” Bucky defended himself. “She hated mine! And she’s so fucking stubborn, and she never listens to me!” He then gives a little shake to one of the cans. “Plus, I pay attention to what she likes.”

Natasha sputters for a moment, “I know what she likes! She’s my best friend!”

“Obviously not, since you’re trying to feed her something spicy while she’s in there sick and practically withering away,” Bucky protested.

You didn’t even hear the continued argument, or when it finally dwindled away to silence. When you heard your bedroom door squeak open, you sighed.

“ ‘Tasha, I’m not hungry-” You lifted your arm to who you thought was Natasha trying to feed you again. “Oh-.” It was Bucky.

Bucky held two mug-soup bowls in his hands as he made his way into your room. He sat the bowls on your nightstand table. As well as a washcloth you hadn’t notice he was holding at first.

“Aren’t you cold?” He asked, pulling your t-shirt down to cover your stomach back up.

“Getting there,” You mumbled, laying your arm back over your eyes.

“You need to eat-” Bucky started as he sat on the edge of your bed.

“Not hungry,” You mumbled.

“I don’t care,�� Bucky grumbled, picking up one of the bowls. It made a clinking sound as the spoon moved around. “Now sit up.”

You gave a groan as a sort of weak protest, but you sat up anyway. You moved yourself up with shaky arms and sat back against the headboard of your bed. You took the mug-bowl from his hands, only Bucky didn’t let go until you had a solid grip on the slightly heavy eat-ware. Then, he picked up his own bowl when you picked your spoon up.

“Chicken noodle,” You commented, taking a sip.

“You should be lucky I’m feeding you,” Bucky took a spoonful of his own chicken middle soup. “Natasha wanted to feed you spicy ramen.”

You give a weak chuckle, which forms into a few even weaker coughs, “Sounds like her.”

“Yeah,” Bucky scoffed, still bewildered that Natasha wanted to feed you something spicy at one of your weakest moments.

You two ate the soup in silence. The only sound between you two was the clinking of spoons against the ceramic soup-mugs. And ever so slowly, you finished your soup. You set the mug to the side before laying back down on your bed.

“Thank you,” You said with a low, quiet voice.

“It’s no problem,” Bucky had finished his own soup a few minutes before you and his own mug was sat beside yours now. “I’ll make you more if you want.”

“Not now,” You shook your head. “Maybe later.”

You noticed that, now that you two were done eating, Bucky made no move to get up or leave your room. He only stared down at you from his seated position, and even went as far to brush a few strands of hair away from your sticky forehead. But he also stopped to press the back of his hand against your forehead, feeling for your fever.

“Your fever should go down now that you’ve eaten,” Bucky noted, then brought the folded washcloth to your forehead. The fabric was damp and cold against your skin. “This should help keep you cool.”

“Wow, Buck, keep treating me like this and I might think you like me,” You joked, a little smile on your face.

“Whatever,” He mumbled, though he kept a hand pressed against the washcloth on your forehead.

Bucky never left you as you laid there on your back, relishing in the cold of the washcloth against your heated skin. He even got comfy in the spot beside you, laying his legs up on your bed and sitting back against your headboard. And when Natasha came in to check on you, and to see where Bucky disappeared to, he didn’t even blink an eye when Natasha saw how you two were positioned.

You moved to lay back on your stomach, hugging your pillow with the damp wash cloth over your eyes to try and keep cool. And Bucky still sat up beside you, with a hand rubbing at your back.

“You’re a simp,” Natasha whispered, leaning against the doorway to your room.

“I don’t even know what that means,” Bucky whispered back.

“Then Urban-Dictionary it,” Natasha shot back.

“That’s not a real dictionary,” Bucky cocked an eyebrow her way.

“Online, old man,” Natasha muttered, pulling your door closed until it was just a crack open before she left.

And he did “Urban-Dictionary it” later than night. Bucky only rolled his eyes at the definition. This wasn’t a real dictionary anyway, so “simp” wasn’t even a real word in Bucky’s mind.

Nevertheless, over the next few days, you got better. Better enough to feed and shower yourself. Better enough to wander down to the gym to work on building your muscle and endurance back up.

Better enough just in time for Valentine’s Day. A year now since Bucky stitched your side up in Germany.

But, at the moment you were second guessing if you were really better or not. Or if you were in a sickness-induced comma or you were having some sort of twisted fever dream. Because you were sure this wouldn’t have happened in a million years, no matter what.

Bucky stood in front of you, looming over your form as he shoved a bouquet of very nice roses in your face. Literally. The petals literally slapped you in the face when you turned the corner.

“What the hell?!” You sputtered, backing away from the face-full of roses you just got. “What are these for?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Bucky answered flatly, jerking the roses in your direction.

“And?” You asked, gaze flickering between Bucky’s and the flowers.

“And these are for you,” Bucky replied, still holding out the roses. When you didn’t take them right away Bucky got sassy, “Just take them! My arm’s getting tired.”

You finally did take them. You were almost about to tease Bucky about him being a sap and being romantic, until you felt a sting of pain take over the tip of your pointer finger. You jumped and pulled back, almost dropping the flowers. You looked down at your affected finger to find blood already seeping from the pinprick on the pad of your pointer finger.

“What the hell, man?!” You asked, more offended than previously.

"I thought bringing you roses would be romantic! You know!?" Bucky matched your tone, offended by your reaction. “Since it’s Valentine’s Day?!”

"Not when they still have the thorns on them, dumbass!" You countered, taking your bleeding finger into your mouth to soothe the pain. “And since when do you give a damn about being romantic?”

“Since I saw this on sale,” Bucky pulled a heart-shaped box of chocolates under his arm and handed them your way.

You glared down at the box suspiciously, still soothing your finger. You glanced up at Bucky before finally taking the box. You looked it over, seeing if it had been opened or tampered with at all. Then you remembered,

“Chocolates go on sale tomorrow, old man,” You point out, still glaring at Bucky suspiciously.

“Well- I- uh,” He was caught, almost backed into a corner. “I got these on the bottom shelf then.”

You cocked an eyebrow his way, not fully convinced. You still twisted and turned the box, not letting your guard down just yet.

“They’re not poisoned,” Bucky said, crossing his arms over his chest.

You fought off the urge to look down at the way his chest puffed up underneath the t-shirt he wore, or the way his biceps flexed as they were squished against his abdomen. Damn him and that stupid ass compression shirt he wore.

“Really?” You turned your gaze from the box to Bucky once again. “Then share them with me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and grumbled out a “fine” before following you to the living room.

You set the thorny roses down on the coffee table before you sat down. You opened the box in your lap, setting the lid and the paper covering aside to get a good look at the chocolates.

As soon as you had the lid off, Bucky picked out one of the assorted chocolates and popped it in his mouth. He looked at you expectedly as he settled into the cushions beside you, setting an ankle across the top of his knee in a masculine way of crossing his legs.

You scoffed, picking up the chocolate of your choice.

“To definitely not poisoned chocolate,” You toasted, holding up the little square.

“To regular, run of the mill, chocolates,” Bucky responded, picking up another chocolate and tapping it against yours.

You two make your way through the box, commenting on the flavors and ones you liked or dislikes. It was a rather civil interaction, with a few snarky comments here and there, of course.

It was when you bit into one of the more gooey, liquidy chocolates and a little bit of the fluid filling slipped past the corner of your lip did Bucky do another thing that had you second guessing your conscienceness again.

Bucky, with the gentlest hand he’s ever touched you with in all your years of knowing him, cradled your jaw and swiped his thumb at the corner of your mouth. His stormy blue eyes watched the motion, making sure to wipe up the mess and not looking at your lips at all.

“Always so messy,” Bucky commented, amusement shining in his eyes. “Dumbass kid.”

You stared up at Bucky, cheeks coloring with heat and heart pounding behind your ribcage so hard you were afraid your sternum might break. You could feel your hands grow clammy and your mouth go dry, maybe you were gaping like a fish. You weren’t sure. You didn’t get a chance to respond when the voice of Steve interrupted you two from the doorway.

Due to the positioning of the couch in the living room, he had a full few of your current position.

“Oh good, you finally picked out a box,” Steve sighed, practically calling Bucky out on his bullshit. “He spent like forever in the candy isle trying to remembered what you liked.”

“Steve-!” Bucky protested, voice raising a few octaves. His own cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Right! Right! Sorry!” And with that, Steve disappeared into the kitchen.

After a few moments of silence, you spoke up, “Bottom shelf chocolates, yeah?” You were teasing, cocking an eyebrow Bucky’s way.

Bucky met your eyes quickly, “Shut up.”

Amusement danced in your eyes.

Bucky finally pulled his hand away from your face, swiping his thumb at the corner of your lips once more to clear away the light pink sticky filling of your previously chosen chocolate. He turned away from you, back resting against the cushions of the couch. Throwing an arm over the back, he sucked on the pad of his thumb to clear the liquid. Never mind that it came from you, pretty much.

You turned away too, chocolates still in your lap. You tossed your feet up on the coffee table, crossing your legs at the ankles. You stared ahead, chewing on your little treat.

“You’re a jackass,” Is all you said.

“Dumbass kid,” Is all Bucky muttered back.

Never mind the way both of yours and Bucky’s thighs pressed together as you sat on the couch, or that he practically crowded into your space for the rest of your sharing the totally normal box of chocolates between friends.

Cause that’s what you two were, right? Friends?

[florencebirdsong]

Hiiiii! I really love your fic 0///0 and happy valentine’s day

I was wondering to request an AgathaxReader + Agatha has feelings for reader but hasn't done anything besides flirting and constantly staring at reader. The coven members decide to spend their Valentine's Day at a bar (including Billy). In the midst of talking and dancing, Agatha learns that Alice is also interested in Reader and, not only that, Alice plans to ask reader out on this iconic day

Agatha loses her temper 😳😏

Hiiiiiiii thank you so much!!! Happy valentine's day :)

This one was hard to keep short xD but I managed! Thank you for the request. I really hope you like the direction I took it

Valentine’s Day Event 2025

Tags: possessive Agatha, hint of dom Agatha, ficlet

“Why is the teenager here?” Agatha asks as she watches you both over by the bar. “Doesn’t this upset your delicate sensibilities?” 

The second question she directs towards Jen who rolls her eyes. Agatha has yet to let the whole poison-wine trial go and despite everyone having protested about Billy drinking, she seems to always focus on Jen.

“It’s an eighteen and over bar. It’s fine as long as he doesn’t drink,” Jen says.

“He’s literally at the bar,” Agatha says.

“Let’s not start this so early,” Alice suggests.

“Yes, I’m sure you’d much rather focus on asking out our newest coven member. Oh, sorry, I mean not,” Jen says and Agatha cuts her a glare. 

Lilia groans quietly.

“You might want to hurry up,” Alice says. “They’re a catch.”

Agatha turns suspicious eyes to those around you but no one has approached with you or Billy while you wait for the drinks. Jen coughs pointedly and Agatha’s eyes shoot back to her. She finds Alice looking distinctively uncomfortable.

“What?” Agatha asks, realising she’s missed something.

A rare enough occurrence that it sets her teeth on edge.

“The interest might be closer to home than you think it is,” Jen says mildly.

“Jennifer,” Lilia sighs and Jen cringes slightly at the full name but doesn’t lose her determination.

“What? I’m sick of watching Agatha moon over them.”

“I do not moon,” Agatha mutters before turning her attention Alice. She doesn’t say anything, just stares. Alice will crack eventually. Alice fidgets with the sleeves of her jackets for several long moments before she does, in fact, crack.

“I mean,” Alice says, “You had that weird thing with literal Death and if you’re only going to pine after them then, yeah, I’ve thought about it.”

“I see,” Agatha says slowly.

“You can’t kill her again,” Lilia cuts in.

“I would never,” Agatha insists.

“Yeah, no one believes that,” Jen says.

“Oh, look, they need help,” Agatha shoots out of her seat and makes her way towards you and Billy. You don’t need help, really, but you still smile when you see her.

“Hi, Agatha,” you say brightly. “Could you take- “

Agatha takes the tray out of your hand and shoves it into Billy’s, who barely manages to grab it without dropping his own.

“Hurry it up, Billy. Jen’s getting impatient,” Agatha says, already turning her back on him.

He looks like he’s going to say something but sees her intense focus on you and gives up before he starts. Instead, he carefully walks back over to their table.

You look at Agatha, half-curious and half-amused.

“You aren’t dating Alice,” she says.

“I…know?” you say, confused.

She corners you against the bar.

“I’ve made it clear enough who you belong to.”

“Oh,” you murmur with wide eyes. Then you realise you don’t want this to be just words, like the flirting has been. “You haven’t though.”

“Say that again.”

You try to stay strong under the darkening of her eyes.

“You haven’t really done anything,” you continue, feeling a faint thrill at the anger growing on her face.

You’re expecting sharp words. You don’t get them. Agatha pulls you tight against her and kisses you with a fever that consumes you. Surrounded by her touch and her heat and her scent, you don’t come back to yourself until a stranger cat calls. Agatha doesn’t deign to notice but you pull back slightly. She lets out a warning growl.

“Let’s not scar the teen any further than you already have,” you murmur against her lips.

She mutters something that does not bear repeating and teleports you both from the bar.

[castellanapologist]

Valentine?

(Happy Valentine's day! My favorite holiday and favorite boy. banner by @acenturions, divider by firefly-graphics)

“Hey pretty girl” 

You turn around to see Luke standing there, his usual smirk gracing his handsome face. Your arms are filled with red paper hearts, some spilling out of your hold. He grabs some off the ground for you before standing back up straight. 

“What’s up Luke?” You ask, walking towards the Aphrodite cabin. Luke walks in step with you. 

“What’s up with all the arts and crafts?” He teases. You giggle and shrug. 

“Got tasked to hang up all these hearts for Valentine’s day” You smile at him as you start your delegated work. Luke hovers behind you while you work, his presence causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.  You try to suppress your smile so you don’t look like a lovesick fool. 

“Just you all alone?”

You shake your head. “No, I think some other kids are hanging stuff up elsewhere. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t get roped into this.”

“They asked for my help but I told them I was busy.”

You turn your head to look at him quizzically. “Busy? On Valentines?” You felt a small pit form in your stomach at the thought of him having a valentine. Luke shrugs with a small smile. 

“I hope to be anyway.” Luke gets closer, standing beside you to help hang the hearts. His warmth and scent make you feel a little dizzy but you try to focus. 

“So you lied” You tease. “Hoping to be busy and actually being busy are two separate things.”

Luke laughs as he finishes up. “I suppose so.” His head turns and locks eyes with you. “You busy?”

You hum as you finish your side. “No, no valentine this year. Might go to the bonfire tonight though.”

Luke looks thoughtful, a small smile slowly spreading across his face. Turning to face you fully, he steps a fraction closer. You feel your breath catch. His eyes search your face before leaning in closer to murmur in your ear. 

“How about you-” He’s interrupted by the squeal of an Aphrodite kid. You both whip your heads to see her staring at y’all with her hands clasped. She blinks expectedly as you both stare back, clearly waiting for something. 

“Oh no forget I’m here!” She says with glee. You feel your face warm as you take a step back from Luke. You hear a small huff from him. 

“Um…the hearts are all hung up.” You say awkwardly, the expectant stare of your fellow camper making you squirm. She looks disappointed that you and Luke aren’t doing what she wanted but straightens up. 

“Yes well, I’m sure that you had fun.” Her voice is teasing but you're not sure what for. “But anyways, I have something for you!” She pulls a letter out of her pocket with a grin. You take it, sizing up the envelope. It’s pink with a heart wax seal. You feel Luke step closer to snoop. 

“What is this?” You ask, popping open the seal. 

“Something from a special secret admirer” She chirps. You hear Luke suck his teeth. Pulling out the letter, you begin to read. It’s really sweet, talking about how gorgeous you look and how much they admire you. You feel your cheeks warm again at the compliments. 

“Where’d you get this?” Luke asks. His voice is casual but this seems to only make the girl grin more. 

“Its a secret! But I’m sure if you come to the bonfire tonight you’ll find out” 

You purse your lips, folding the letter again. You peek over at Luke again, who’s staring at the letter in your hands. “I guess I’ll be there.” You say. Luke’s head whips up to look at you. 

“You will?!” The both of them say at the same time. You blink at their reactions. The girl looks beyond thrilled while Luke looks genuinely shocked. Shrugging, you tuck the letter in your pocket. 

“I mean, I have no valentine. What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

Luke clicks his tongue, looking off to the side as he steps back. You already miss his warmth. Usually you’d never do this but a small voice in your head points out how Luke said he'll be busy anyway. Your siblings are always telling you to explore your options anyway right? You can’t help but feel like you’re missing something though. The girl scampers off, practically skipping. But you keep your eyes trained on Luke. He looks annoyed, but lets out a small sigh before facing you again. 

“Well, looks like you have something to look forward to at the bonfire” He teases. You roll your eyes but absentmindedly play with the letter. A small part of you hoped this would be like those romantic movies where the letter turned out to be from him. 

“What were you gonna say earlier? Before she interrupted?”

Luke huffs a laugh. “You’d have to ditch the bonfire to find out.”

Your tongue wets your lips. Internally, you weighed your options. Ditch your secret admirer for Luke or ditch Luke for your secret admirer. You could hear the voices of your siblings telling you to stop pining and explore new options but…

“You don’t have to answer now” He interrupts your train of thought. “The bonfire isn’t for another few hours-”

“I want to be with you.” You interrupt. You pause realizing how that might sound. “I mean, I’d rather hang with you.”

Luke grins, looking down from you to smile at the ground. “Cool. Come to the lake at sunset.”

You nod, not trusting yourself not to squeak out an answer. Luke walks off and you can’t help but stare at his back until he’s gone. Your heart hammers in your chest as you make your way to your cabin. It’s nerve wracking having to wait for so long. You wondered what Luke was planning. It wasn’t like him to be so secretive with you. Pulling the letter out your pocket again, your eyes trace the words. 

‘The first time I saw you in a sunset, I knew I could never see it the same way again. You looked so beautiful bathed in the light and I wanted to kiss you.’

This person had obviously liked you for a bit but you didn’t recognize the handwriting. It wasn’t signed either, which made sense for being a secret admirer letter but still. You dropped the letter on your bed as you flopped down. You knew you were making the right choice choosing Luke but couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of hurting this mystery person's feelings. Oh well. 

Eventually, you sat up to refresh your appearance. Your hands slightly shook as you touched up your hair, still nervous about being with Luke on Valentine’s day. You knew it didn’t mean anything, but your stupid crush still made you feel giddy. As the sun slowly started to set, you made your way down to the lake. 

Most people were heading to the bonfire and you tried not to make eye contact with anyone in case your secret admirer was in the crowd. The lake was quieter, water lapping onto the shore. Glancing around for Luke, your eyes were suddenly covered. Gasping, you grasped at the wrists only to hear Luke chuckle. 

“You would think you could be more aware of your surroundings” He murmurs in your ear. You huff, relaxing your grip on him.

“Was busy looking for you.” You shot back. He laughs again before slowly guiding you to walk with him. 

“I’ve got something for you. Don’t peek.” He says softly. You hum and let him lead. He’s careful not to let you stumble and guides you further down the shore. When y’all come to a stop, he removes his hands. You gasp at the scene in front of you. 

A blanket laid on the sand and a tray of food sat on top of it. It was filled with your favorite treats, even ones you could only get from the mortal world. Next to it sat your favorite flowers, freshly bloomed and tied together with a pink ribbon. You whip around to face Luke, who looked pretty self satisfied. 

“You did this? How? It’s amazing!” You gush. His chest puffs a little at your compliment. 

“You like? Had to pull some strings but wanted to make this special for you.” He says, his hand coming to rest on your lower back. “Cmon, sit down.”

You do, reaching for the flowers. They smell amazing and the butterflies in your stomach seemingly multiply. You feel your face warm and try to hide in the flowers. This had to be the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you. Peeking up at him, your breath hitches at how Luke looks at you. Gentle and like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“This is amazing Luke. Thank you. This is the best Valentines day ever.” 

He gently pulls the flowers from you, placing them on the blanket again. “Better than going to that bonfire huh?” He scoots a bit closer, your knees knocking together. You can’t help but huff a laugh. 

“Much better.”

A comfortable silence falls as you stare at each other. The sunset coats him in orange hues, and his eyes trace your face. He leans in slightly and you follow his lead. 

“You look so beautiful during sunsets. I can’t see them the same without you.”

Your brow furrows and you pull away slightly to stare at him incredulously. “You-...Was the letter from you?”

Luke’s face flushes and he groans, running a hand down his face. “...Yes.” He admits. Your heart stutters. “It was this stupid letter I wrote months ago. I was gonna give it to you but chickened out and then it went missing. I guess the Aphrodite kids wanted to take matters into their own hands.”

You can’t help but laugh even as he gets more embarrassed. Leaning in, you press a kiss to his cheek. “I liked it.”

He turns his face to yours again, only inches from your lips. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He smiles and leans in. His lips slot against yours perfectly and you kiss him back enthusiastically. Wrapping your arms around his neck, the kiss lasts for what feels like centuries before you pull away. Luke grins stupidly, pecking your lips again. 

“Guess I’ll have to thank them.”

[saebyeokbliss]

JUST MEET ME AT THE APT.— K. SAE-BYEOK

CHAPTER ELEVEN

synopsis: managing a rising rock band is already chaotic enough, but when you're stuck touring with four reckless musicians, things get even messier. between late-night facetime calls, teasing that feels a little too knowing, and a certain guitarist who might just be your biggest problem, keeping things professional is getting harder by the second. but hey, no one said the music industry was easy.

warnings: mutual pining, intense eye contact, teasing that borders on flirting (or maybe it is flirting), friends who refuse to mind their business, secondhand embarrassment, slow burn that burns, emotional whiplash

playlist: spotify

You were going to throw up.

Not in the cute, haha-I’m-nervous-but-still-functional way, but in the actual way where your stomach was twisting and turning like it was personally offended by your existence.

Because this wasn’t just any event.

This was the Grammys.

The biggest night in music. The night where HOT DIVISION—your band—was nominated for two awards. The night where the entire world would be watching them.

And, more importantly, the night where you were responsible for making sure everything went smoothly.

Which meant no wardrobe malfunctions, no missed cues, no PR disasters—just a flawless, effortless evening where everything went according to plan.

No pressure.

The limo ride to the venue was filled with a mix of excitement and chaos. Ji-Yeong was buzzing, practically bouncing in her seat as she scrolled through Twitter, reading fan reactions in real time. Se-Mi was dramatically practicing her “Oh my god, we won? I had no idea!” face in the mirror. No-Eul was—well, No-Eul, calm and composed, quietly observing the madness.

And Sae-Byeok?

She was sitting silently beside the window, arms crossed, her jaw set in that unreadable way that meant she was thinking too much.

You, on the other hand, were gripping your phone with a death grip, mentally running through your checklist for the hundredth time, trying not to spiral.

Okay. Arrive at the carpet. Do the interviews. Smile. Keep them moving. Don’t let Ji-Yeong say anything that will get her canceled. Check their places for the ceremony. Manage post-show plans. Keep them out of trouble. Oh god, this is a disaster waiting to happen—

A gentle squeeze on your hand pulled you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, looking down to see No-Eul’s fingers wrapped around yours.

It wasn’t obvious—wasn’t dramatic or attention-grabbing. Just a quiet, steady warmth, grounding you.

“You’re doing fine,” she murmured, her voice low enough that only you could hear.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how tightly you had been holding onto your phone, your shoulders hunched with tension.

No-Eul gave your hand another squeeze.

“Breathe,” she said simply.

And somehow, you did.

Sae-Byeok saw the whole thing.

She had been sitting across from you, watching the way your fingers trembled slightly, the way your breathing had gone shallow. She had felt the nervous energy rolling off of you, had wanted to say something—do something.

But before she could, No-Eul had beaten her to it.

And now, Sae-Byeok was watching you relax under her touch, watching the way you leaned into her comfort, watching the way No-Eul was able to calm you down in a way she hadn’t.

And it pissed her off.

Not at No-Eul.

Not really.

But at herself—for hesitating. For sitting there, watching instead of acting.

She clenched her jaw, looking away, forcing herself to ignore the uncomfortable twist in her stomach.

This wasn’t the time.

The limo pulled up to the venue, and suddenly, it was real.

The red carpet stretched ahead, cameras flashing, reporters lined up, calling out names. Fans were screaming, banners waving in the air, the energy electric.

And then the door opened.

Ji-Yeong stepped out first, exuding effortless confidence in a stunning baby pink gown—soft, elegant, the fitted bodice flowing into a delicate train behind her. She looked like a princess who could either charm you or absolutely destroy you, depending on her mood.

Se-Mi followed, dressed in a sleek black suit with a deep red pocket square, her hair styled in effortless waves, looking every bit the rockstar she was.

No-Eul stepped out next, wearing a similar black suit, but with a silver chain accenting her waist, her look sharp and refined, effortlessly cool.

Then Sae-Byeok.

And god—if looks could kill.

Her suit was jet black, tailored to perfection, the crisp lines making her look absolutely lethal. Unlike No-Eul’s refined style, Sae-Byeok’s was dangerously effortless—like she had barely tried, and yet, somehow, she looked like the most powerful person in the room. A single silver ring adorned her finger, a thin chain peeking from beneath her shirt collar.

And then there was you.

You stepped out last, the moment slow, almost surreal.

Your dress—deep wine red, shimmering subtly under the lights with tiny jewels woven into the fabric—hugged your figure perfectly. It was elegant without being overwhelming, a statement without trying too hard.

And on your feet?

The heels No-Eul had bought for you.

The second you stepped out, the cameras focused on you—flashes going off, murmurs passing through the crowd.

You weren’t the celebrity.

But standing next to them, you looked like one.

Sae-Byeok’s jaw tightened.

Because now, it wasn’t just No-Eul who had noticed you.

It was everyone.

And she hated that she wasn’t the one standing next to you.

The energy in the Grammy arena was electric.

You sat sandwiched between Se-Mi and No-Eul at your table, your heart still racing from the red carpet frenzy. The girls had handled the interviews like pros—Ji-Yeong had been her usual chaotic self, Se-Mi had flirted with at least three different reporters, No-Eul had stayed effortlessly cool, and Sae-Byeok had been… quiet. Focused.

You weren’t sure why.

Now, settled into your seats, you tried to relax as the ceremony unfolded around you.

Tried being the key word.

Because holy shit, they were nominated for two Grammys.

And the nerves were absolutely killing you.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Se-Mi murmured, nudging you playfully. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You exhaled sharply, gripping the stem of your champagne glass. “I might.”

Ji-Yeong, who had been casually fixing her lip gloss in the reflection of her spoon, grinned. “Well, if you do, at least make sure to do it dramatically. Give the cameras something to talk about.”

No-Eul rolled her eyes, but there was warmth there. “You’re worse than the reporters.”

The show continued, performances lighting up the stage—Olivia Rodrigo’s haunting vocals, SZA’s effortlessly stunning set, a rock tribute that had Se-Mi absolutely losing her mind.

And then—

Then it was time.

The first award.

“And the Grammy for Best Rock Album goes to…”

The presenter—a legendary rock artist whose posters had once covered Se-Mi’s childhood bedroom walls—paused, tearing open the envelope with a smirk.

“HOT DIVISION, ROCKSTAR!

For a second, there was silence.

As if none of you had actually processed it.

Then—

Ji-Yeong shrieked, grabbing Se-Mi’s arm in a death grip. No-Eul let out a rare, genuine laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. Sae-Byeok exhaled sharply, a small but unmistakable smile breaking through.

And you?

You felt everything all at once.

Pride. Relief. Overwhelming joy.

They did it.

They hugged each other, still half in shock, before making their way up to the stage.

You stayed at the table, watching them from below, your chest aching in the best way possible.

Ji-Yeong, of course, grabbed the mic first. “Holy shit—wait, can I say that? No? Whatever—holy crap, we just won a Grammy.”

The audience laughed.

Se-Mi took over, grinning. “This is insane. We started as four idiots playing in garages, and now we’re here. Thank you to everyone who believed in us.”

No-Eul spoke next, her voice steady, sincere. “This album was everything to us. To our fans—this is yours as much as it is ours.”

And then—

Sae-Byeok stepped forward.

She wasn’t one for long speeches. Usually, she let the others take the spotlight.

But this time—

This time, her eyes searched the crowd.

And found you.

“This award means everything,” she started, her voice softer than usual—but firm. Sure. “But there’s someone who isn’t up here with us who deserves just as much recognition.”

Your breath caught.

Sae-Byeok’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Our manager. Our best friend. The person who’s been with us since the beginning, making sure we didn’t completely ruin our own careers.”

Laughter rippled through the audience, but you couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

“She’s the reason we’re here,” Sae-Byeok continued. “The reason this album even happened the way it did. She’s the one who picks us up when we fall, who believes in us even when we don’t believe in ourselves. And she never asks for credit.”

She exhaled, gripping the mic a little tighter.

“So this is for her.”

You felt your eyes sting.

“She might not be on this stage,” Sae-Byeok said, a small, almost-smirk tugging at her lips. “But she’s just as much a part of this band as the rest of us.”

The applause was deafening.

And you—

You had never felt more seen.

You could see a camera pan toward you and you waved, holding back tears with a smile. They weren't tears of pain; just pure tears of joy for your girls.

You were still reeling.

Still trying to process the fact that Sae-Byeok had just dedicated a Grammy to you in front of the entire world.

Your heart hadn’t slowed down since she stepped off that stage, her words still echoing in your head. Your best friend. The reason we’re here. Just as much a part of this band as the rest of us.

You weren’t going to cry.

You refused to cry.

But when Sae-Byeok sat back down next to you, her knee brushing against yours, her gaze flickering toward you as if to check if you were okay—yeah, you almost lost it.

Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat, forced out a small, shaky laugh, and muttered, “That was—um. That was a lot.”

Sae-Byeok smirked, her voice low, just for you. “You deserved it.”

And that was definitely not helping your whole don’t cry on national television thing.

Before you could respond, the next award category popped up on the screen, and suddenly—holy shit—it was happening again.

The presenter smiled, glancing down at the envelope in her hands.

“And the Grammy for Best Rock Performance goes to…”

A pause. The dramatic build-up.

You gripped the edge of the table, heart pounding.

“HOT DIVISION, ROCKSTAR!”

For a full second—absolute chaos.

Ji-Yeong screamed so loudly that Se-Mi actually jumped, knocking over her champagne glass. No-Eul blinked in shock before breaking into a rare, wide grin. Sae-Byeok exhaled, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe it.

And you?

You just sat there, hands covering your mouth, watching them win again.

Two Grammys. In one night.

Your girls.

Your band.

They pulled you into a tight group hug before rushing back onto the stage, still half in disbelief.

Ji-Yeong, ever the chaotic menace, grabbed the mic first. “Okay, now we’re freaking out.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd as Se-Mi practically bounced next to her. “I don’t even know what to say—holy shit—”

“Language,” No-Eul muttered, but she was smiling.

Sae-Byeok took a step forward, shaking her head slightly as she looked out at the audience. “This song…” She paused, looking back at the girls. “This song was everything to us. It wasn’t just about making music—it was about proving to ourselves that we belonged here.”

The audience quieted, hanging onto her words.

“And now, standing here, holding this—” She lifted the Grammy slightly. “—it still doesn’t feel real.”

Se-Mi leaned into the mic. “But it is, babe.”

More laughter. More applause.

Then, before they ended their speech, Ji-Yeong grinned mischievously. “Oh, and one more thing—” She turned toward you, still seated at the table, eyes wide. “Our manager? Our favorite person in the world? She’s two-for-two tonight.”

Se-Mi nudged the mic closer. “Which means she officially has to party with us after this.”

No-Eul smirked. “No excuses.”

Sae-Byeok, standing slightly behind them, simply met your gaze.

And for a moment—just a moment—everything else disappeared.

No cameras. No flashing lights. No roaring applause.

Just her.

And the silent, knowing look that said, We did it.

We did it together.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest @peelover25@monroesturnns @laurenkens @yenyu1s @idontliketoread2137 @bitchybananaflower @lyuuw

[loulou-land]

Forget-Me-Nots & Heart-Shaped Pancakes

Day 14 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | Valentine’s Day | 1,437 | on ao3

(I haven’t posted day 13 but I will, it’s just not finished yet 😭)

Buck was a little nervous as he placed the final touches on the breakfast tray. But he really wanted this to be perfect. This was their first Valentine’s Day and he wanted it to be one that Tommy would remember. He stepped back, hands on his hips, surveying his handiwork.

Heart-shaped pancakes—check. Heart-shaped eggs—check. Crispy bacon arranged in an almost symmetrical-heart—double check. A strawberry smoothie, because it was pink and also Tommy loved sweet drinks, and a cute little napkin that said Will you be my Valentine?—perfect.

Now all that was missing was—his phone buzzed.

Right on time, Buck thought, grateful that luck was on his side this morning.

He hurried to the door, intercepting the delivery guy before he could knock and wake Tommy. The flower arrangement was even better in person. Delicate, bright blue forget-me-nots mixed with a few sprigs of baby’s breath. Buck tipped the guy, murmured a quick thanks, and rushed back inside.

Flowers—check.

He set them down next to the tray, taking a picture of both for his memories album.

Oh! The card. He’d almost forgotten. Buck had to hide it so Tommy wouldn’t come across it.

He scrambled to the bookshelf, pulling out the card he’d made from one of the books. It was his first attempt at anything crafty in years, probably since he last helped Christopher with his homework. It was a little lopsided, the hand drawn hearts not quite symmetrical, but he’d wanted to do something personal. Something that showed Tommy he’d put real care and thought into it. From his heart. And that was what mattered, right?

…Maybe he should have just bought one. What if he thinks Buck is being cheap?

Buck bit his lip, looking at his creation, debating whether he had time for a last-minute store run. He glanced at the clock. Nope. Tommy would be awake before he’d make it back.

Sighing, he placed the card on the tray, gave everything one final once-over, then carefully picked it up and headed upstairs.

Tommy was still curled up in bed, bundled up in the blanket, his face buried in Buck’s pillow, arms around it as he snored softly.

A grin tugged at Buck’s lips. That was—God, that was adorable. It was as if when he had left the bed this morning, Tommy had gone searching for him, and upon not finding him, he settled for the next best thing…his pillow.

His heart clenched with so much love he had to take a pause before he cried over Tommy’s pancakes.

Buck set the tray down on the dresser before grabbing the flowers and sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out, his hand warm against Tommy’s shoulder.

“Baby?” He murmured, giving him a gentle shake.

Tommy made a low, sleepy noise, burrowing further into the pillow before sluggishly turning his head. “Mmm…whazz…everything okay?” His voice was thick with sleep, eyes barely open.

Buck melted. He was absolutely in love with this man.

“Yeah, everything’s okay,” he reassured him softly. “I just…got something for you.” He felt a little shy now, suddenly worried it might be too much. They were already celebrating Valentine’s at a fancy restaurant tonight. But he’d still wanted to surprise Tommy with something. Oh well, no turning back.

Tommy rubbed a hand over his face trying to wake up, and when he finally blinked his eyes open, they landed on the flowers in Buck’s hand.

He stilled.

For a long moment, he just stared. And Buck held his breath.

Then, slowly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, his voice quieter now. “Babe…are those for me?”

Buck’s stomach dropped at the disbelief in his voice and he vowed to himself then and there, he’d give Tommy flowers for the rest of their lives.

“Yeah,” Buck exhaled, offering them. “Happy Valentine’s Day, honey.”

Tommy reached out almost hesitantly, his fingers brushing against the petals, featherlight. “They’re beautiful.”

“Evan…” his voice was barely above a whisper, something raw and vulnerable in his expression.

Buck swallowed, suddenly rambling as he still felt unsure whether the flowers had been a good idea. “They’re forget-me-nots. I know roses are more traditional but—uh, I don’t know, these just felt right? They’re blue and they remindEd me of your eyes, and—oh, did you know flowers have meanings? I mean of course they do. But like, there’s this whole language. And these mean true love and loyalty, and I just thought—”

“Evan.”

Tommy’s voice was gentle but firm as he reached out, catching Buck’s waving hand mid-air, stilling him. He tangled their fingers together, settling Buck’s nervous energy.

“I love them.” He swallowed hard, his grip tightening slightly. “No one’s ever given me flowers before.” His voice wobbled just a little, just enough for Buck to hear it. “Thank you.”

Buck beamed, his heart expanding in his chest. “You deserve flowers. And well…there’s more.”

Tommy’s brows lifted a little incredulously. “More?”

Buck jumped up, grabbing the tray. “Breakfast in bed for my sweetheart.”

Tommy shook his head, his eyes crinkling in fondness. He sat up properly, adjusting the blankets around his waist, and when Buck set the tray in front of him, his face lit up even more.

“Baby, this is amazing.” He glanced at Buck with something impossibly soft in his eyes before his gaze caught on the card.

Carefully, he picked it up, turning it over in his hands. His hands were steady, but Buck could see the slight tremor in them.

“Did you…make this yourself?” Tommy asked, his voice soft.

Buck rubbed the back of his neck, looking away, a little embarrassed. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I—I’m sorry if it’s too cheesy. I probably should’ve bought one, but—”

Tommy set the tray aside before reaching out, cupping Buck’s chin, gently turning his face back towards him, making sure Buck heard him.

“I love it.” His voice was calm, but his eyes—his eyes were shining, glassy at the corners. “Evan…seriously, thank you. You’re the best Valentine I've ever had.”

Buck’s breath caught in his throat.

He barely had time to say anything before Tommy leaned in, capturing his lips in a heated lingering kiss.

Buck sighed into it, heart racing, warmth spreading through his body.

Tommy pulled back and Buck tried to follow his lips, whining when he couldn’t keep kissing him.

Tommy hummed, amused. “Don’t you want your gift?”

Buck considered it for a second. His curiosity won out. “Okay.”

Tommy laughed. “Don’t pout. I’ll kiss you as much as you want later.”

“I wasn’t pouting,” Buck said, while he pouted. “But I’ll hold you to that.”

Tommy hesitated for just a second before exhaling and reaching over to his bedside table, pulling something out.

A card.

It was firefighter themed, something dorky with the message “Our love can’t be extinguished!”

Buck grinned. “Oh my god.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were flushed as he flipped it open, revealing a trip confirmation, up in the mountains, a cabin.

“I was thinking…” Tommy cleared his throat, suddenly looking nervous, which was endearing. “We could go away for the weekend.”

Buck blinked. “Wait. Really?”

Tommy shifted slightly, “Yeah, I mean, I kinda talked to Bobby about it, he said it was okay. And I’d fly us up there—” he stopped suddenly looking unsure, “that’s if you want to. You don’t have to say yes. I—maybe it was presumptuous of me.”

For a second, Buck couldn’t even speak.

And then he was throwing himself at Tommy, nearly knocking the tray over in the process. Tommy laughed, catching him and Buck buried his face in his neck, kissing him over and over.

“Yes,” he said, muffled against warm skin. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Tommy laughed again, tightening his arms around him. “I’m glad. And, I’ll leave all the activity and hiking planning up to you.”

Buck pulled back just enough to press another kiss to Tommy’s lips. “You’re the best. I love you.”

Tommy hummed, smiling widely. “I love you too.”

“Okay, I need my laptop.” Buck said, he jumped up feeling excited for a weekend away with just Tommy and anything he wanted to do. He couldn’t wait. “Eat your breakfast while I research.” Buck said seriously.

“Yes, dear.” Tommy replied, rolling his eyes fondly.

They spent the rest of the morning tangled together in bed, trading lazy kisses between bites of pancakes, making plans, the flowers resting on the nightstand, a bright blue spark of color in the morning light.

Buck couldn’t remember a better Valentine’s Day.

[sapphicapocrypha]

♡ (𝐎𝐡) 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞 ♡

💋 𝕷. 𝕮𝖆𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖚 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

💋 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 — 5.3 k

💋 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘 — EXTREME, nsfw, established relationship, cunnilingus, squirting, rough, anal, mommy kink, (enchanted) strap-on, top!reader

💋𝐀𝐨𝟑

— no beta we die like lilia, minors dni—

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

"Where have you been?" Lilia asked sharply when you came home in the middle of the night again. She tugged at the string that switched on the table lamp and crossed her arms, already in her nightie but with her hair still pinned up.

"Work?" You dropped your bag somewhere on the floor and shrugged off your coat. "The job I took on so we might one day get out of this hole?"

"Bullshit." The wrinkles around her lips deepened when she pursed them, lifting her hand that had a plastic bag dangling from it. You saw the logo. Fuck. "Who are they for?"

One by one, she fished the lacy G-strings from the bag and dropped them on the floor, quirking her eyebrow in expectation of an answer she already knew she wasn't going to accept.

"It's not what you think, Lilia." You picked the lingerie up as you approached her and put it on the table.

She shoved at you when you tried to collect her hands and turned away, sniffling. "Do I know her?"

"You silly old lady," you said and pulled out a chair for her, filling a glass of water under the sink.

"Is that it? You needed someone younger?" Lilia rested her forehead in her palm, hiding her eyes from you, shoulders slumped. "Someone less kookoo?"

Setting the glass in front of her, you sat down at the table, and this time succeeded in taking her hand, the one on her knee. "There is no one else."

"Then who are these for?" she huffed, flipping the panties up with her finger.

You blushed and leaned back, inhaling. "They're for you. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day and—don't start, I know, I know."

Lilia scoffed. "For me? You want me to believe that?"

This really wasn't how you thought this would go. For months, you'd worked your ass off trying to save money for this special surprise, and then you were foolish enough to leave half of it lying around in a clairvoyant witch's home. You should've known better. Well, time to get yourself out of this mess—if that was even still an option.

Brushing your thumb over Lilia's knuckles, you waited until she met your gaze. It still made your heart flutter. "I didn't take the job to save up for an apartment. Not primarily, at least."

"What for, then?"

"To take you out for a weekend at a fancy hotel and—with some extras. This weekend."

Lilia's lips parted, and she blinked a couple of times. "Why—?"

You had to suppress a laugh when you thought about how to explain this to her. "Our bed is very small, don't you think?"

"Yes, it is," Lilia answered but was visibly still confused as to what that had to do with the hotel. You watched the cogs turn, and then her eyes snapped back to yours. "Oh!"

You nodded, amused, and left your chair to perch on Lilia's lap, lacing your arms around her neck. The mascara on her lower lashes had smudged a bit, and her eyes still had some redness to them. You wiped under them and cupped her cheek. "Feeling better, momma?"

Rubbing her hands up and down your waist, Lilia nodded, and you pressed your lips to her hairline. "Let's go to bed then."

୨♡୧

The most luxurious hotel you could afford was one with the architecture of a castle—high ceilings, stucco, four-poster beds made for royalty. It wasn't a panorama-view skyscraper, but it was, against everything you stood for, romantic.

Nosy as she was, Lilia had tried to peek into the gym bag you had packed on multiple occasions, but you knew your witch too well and took precautions. The garden was the size of a football field at least, if not two, and had a fountain in the middle—though, if everything went according to plan, the two of you wouldn't be leaving your room once this weekend.

Eat, sleep, fuck. That was the itinerary.

Arriving in your room, Lilia's eyes lit up at the sight of the grand bed. She sat on the end and bounced, testing its softness, and bit her lip. Her feet didn't reach the ground; it was adorable. You laughed, and she let herself fall into it, letting out a reverberating sigh of joy. Stashing the gym bag back beside the bed, you kicked off your shoes and climbed on, crawling up her body until your face hovered over hers, just a kiss away.

"This is perfect, sweetie," she said, pulling you down by your nape. The kiss started slow and soft, but the thought of seeing her in the lingerie you'd picked out ignited a fire in your core that had you push your tongue between her lips until she welcomed it into her mouth. A quiet moan slipped past, and, in an effort to get closer to her, you bumped your knee between her legs, making her shudder.

"Oh, baby..." she hummed, taking a breath and catching your lips anew. Your fingers twined into her curls, covering themselves in strands of silver, and you couldn't help but leave her mouth and nip at her jawline, following a wrinkle down to her throat. "Wait..."

You let off and looked at her with a questioning expression.

"We've got time," she said. "Let's not rush this."

You massaged your thumb into the side of her neck. "You're right. I haven't even shown you my gift."

"Those flimsy panties?"

"No." You laughed. "There's more. But... speaking of it—why don't you try them on?"

You expected Lilia to protest, but she simply smirked and took the little bag from you as well as her own and disappeared into the bathroom.

The wait was excruciating.

Playing with the fine, white bedsheet, you considered whether you should change yourself or get naked right away, but Lilia was right: there was no rush. One thing at a time. Lilia was still getting used to this, and she needed you to be stable and patient.

The bathroom door opened, and not only did Lilia wear the golden mesh bra and g-string that matched her magic in color, but she also wore a flowing, see-through dressing gown over it. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was the fabric she'd been working with for weeks now. Thin chiffon, if you had to guess. Dark mauve. Tied in a neat bow at the waist, like a true present.

"You're staring," Lilia teased, and you scrambled to the end of the bed where she came to stand between your legs. Your hands found the curve of her hips on their own accord, feeling the chiffon, and beneath, her soft, supple skin, handfuls of it. The golden bra, sprinkled with the tiniest diamond splitters, peeked through and offered just the right place to kiss.

"Can you blame me?" You glanced up at her with utter adoration. "Look at you. You're perfect. So," you stamped more kisses to the swell of her breast, "mesmerizing. God, you're making me drip."

Lilia ran her fingers through your locks, humming low. She responded so well to your praise, and you dared say her confidence in her own body had grown over recent weeks because of it. You kneaded her flesh, caressed over her ass, and squeezed it, traced the gentle rolls on her back, and took the ribbon between your teeth, untying the robe to reveal her stomach.

More to kiss.

As you pecked down the middle of her stomach, Lilia sat beside you and diverted your attention to her lips, indulging in a long, wet kiss, her hand on your thigh, fingers twisting into your trousers.

"Happy Valentine's Day," you murmured as you pulled away, and Lilia smiled.

Reaching into your gym bag, you took out a box wrapped in shiny, red paper and gave it to Lilia. She set it on her lap and opened it with nimble fingers, pausing when she saw the content. Her breath hitched, and her fingers were unsteady when they ghosted over the items.

"We don't have to use all of them," you backtracked, fearing to have overwhelmed her. "Consider it more of a... suggestion box."

"Honey, I..." Lilia trailed off and picked up a small purple vibrator, turning it between her fingers.

"Yes?"

She put it back between the strap and handcuffs and set it aside, her posture slumping a little as if not sure what to say. You gave her time.

"Since we started... this—and with everything we tried and you're... You're amazing, you know?"

You couldn't tell whether this was going to be bad news or a love confession. Bravely, you reached for Lilia's hand and entwined your fingers, squeezing them.

"I've been getting these dreams. Of us."

Now that was interesting.

"Ah?" You smirked and brushed her collarbone, making her shiver. "Tell me more."

"There's a thing that keeps coming up, and I think... I think I really want it. To try it, at least."

Licking your lips, you gently pushed Lilia to lie on her back and kissed her, talking in between.

"Start at the beginning, my love," you said and parted the dressing gown to cup Lilia's breast through the bra, making her gasp. Her nipple hardened after a few swipes of your thumb, poking through the shimmering mesh, whimpering for your attention. You kissed it, over the mesh, rubbed, and pulled the bra down to expose the rosy peak to the air. Goosebumps pebbled up all over her chest.

"You wear a," she sucked in a breath as you blew air over her nipple, "strap-on, and I—I enchant it. On my knees. In front of you."

"I like the sound of that." You flicked your tongue against her and watched her chest flutter with a scattered intake of breath. Then a suck, then some more, and you already pulled the first noises of pleasure from her. Her tits were so sensitive.

"I lick it while I cast the spell," Lilia continued, closing her eyes as she focused on the sensations, "and weave my magic around the shaft with my tongue."

With a plop, you released her nipple from your mouth and took your affections lower, tickling her sides and burying yourself in her tummy. It gave in beneath you, melted away, and crinkled. You couldn't help but moan into her while toying with the strings around her hips.

"Go on, tell me everything," you coaxed and followed the curve of her thigh down to the crease connecting it with her vulva. The skin was already scaldingly hot and the hairs sticking out from under the slim cover of the panties were dewy. You traced the edge, up and down, up and down, until Lilia whimpered with impatience. "I'll continue if you do."

Lilia's thigh trembled when you grabbed it, pushing it open to make room for yourself.

"You—you start to feel it—the strap," she stammered, training her heavy-lidded eyes on you, "as if it were real."

"We lay down, and you—" Enjoying the tease, you ran your thumb over the front of the panties, and when you reached the hem, pulled them taut over her, so that the thin string pressed between her soaked folds. "Mh! Oh, God!" You pulled harder, tugged it around. "You fuck me." She squirmed, grabbing for any part of you. "And you come—inside and all over me!"

Releasing her panties, you soothed her with kisses to her inner thighs and purred, "You want to be my cumslut?"

"Don't make fun of me," Lilia whined, embarrassment flickering through as she tried to regain control of her breathing.

And you hadn't even started.

"I'm not." Hooking your arms under her plush thighs, you brushed your kisses closer to her center and sucked here and there, electrifying her nerves. "You know I love to indulge your every whim."

"Then what are you doing right now?" she asked, throwing her head back into the pillows in defeat.

"Driving you mad?"

"Right," she growled, and, cruel as you were, you wiped your index finger over the drenched panties covering her slit. "C'mon, baby. Be good for momma."

The change in tone had its desired effect on you, especially when Lilia propped herself up and raked her fingers over your scalp, guiding you towards the source of heat that simmered under the ornamented gold. Lured by her scent, you moved the string aside and revealed her pink, glistening folds to you.

Lilia sucked in a breath as you skimmed over them and held it when you spread her between thumb and index finger. Her clit was swollen, throbbing with blood, and so hot when you first took it on the tip of your tongue.

"That's it, baby!" Lilia sighed and plummeted into the pillows, keeping her hand on the back of your head, nails ready to scrape.

With a swift motion, you tugged at her thighs and lifted her hips to get a better angle, fingers wound around them in a bruising grip. You toyed with her clit—grazed with your teeth, rolled it back and forth with your tongue, suctioned around it with your lips—and made a whining mess of her, writhing in your grip, arching, touching her pretty tits in desperate pursuit of pleasure.

She was too close, you decided, and loosened your hold on her thighs, proceeding to lay her down and caress her legs. Her pussy was a mess, her opening pulsing and threads of arousal sticking to her fine grey hairs. Even those quivered as she heaved in breaths.

"Must you always be so cruel?"

"You know why," you said and shifted up a bit so you could spare her neglected breasts some affection while your hand rested, warm and teasing, on her lower stomach.

"Do we really have to ruin the sheets this early on?" Lilia complained but held you to her cleavage as you kissed each individual freckle and wrinkle.

Unconcerned, you answered, "I saw fresh ones in the wardrobe."

"That's not what I was asking, smart ass." Lilia smacked your butt, and you withdrew, staring at her with a raised eyebrow. "Don't pretend you don't feel amazing when I make you squirt."

"True," Lilia admitted, "but you frustrate me. I'm not a patient woman. Too old for that."

"And yet you want to ride my strap," you said, and smugly aimed for her lips, already kissed raw. "Not too old for that, huh?"

"Don't tease." She patted your cheek and stole another kiss from you, groping your still-clothed body and tugging at your shirt until you sat up and pulled it over your head. The right choice—the sensation of her round breasts pressing against yours made your head spin. "Now finish what you started, little one. Or Momma will get angry."

You didn't leave without trailing your lips along the front of her throat, stimulating the delicate, sensitive skin. Sitting between her legs, you helped her out of the G-string since it was ruined anyway and only an obstacle for everything to come. This time, you shouldered her thighs and had them rest snugly around your neck.

"Let me hear you," was the last thing you said before you dipped your head down and flattened your tongue, placing a broad lick from the bottom to the top as if her pussy were a scoop of strawberry ice cream. You repeated it, slow and languid, tasting her, knowing you could play this game only for so long.

Lilia delivered. Her mouth opened with shy, low moans that grew louder with each lick, particularly when you swiped your tongue through the space between her small and large labia. You left her clit unattended and instead circled her vaginal opening with careful strokes before sinking into her, feeling along the velvet-smooth ripples.

One touch to the right spot and Lilia rewarded you with a rumbling moan. You kept pressing your tongue against it in a steady rhythm until she had no time to go quiet anymore. Once you had her where you wanted her, you shifted back to her clit and wrapped your lips around the small, pulsating bud while lathering your fingers with her arousal and teasing at her entrance.

"Just one thing," Lilia said breathlessly and broke off when you eased two fingers into her, flexing her feet and pushing her hips into your hand.

"What?" you mumbled against her clit.

"In my," she panted, her face and chest flushed, "dreams."

Pressing against her walls, you moved in and out of her, unhurried but also unrelenting. "Yes?"

Her cunt squeezed around you, again and again, as she arched with pleasure, a beautiful mess of curly hair and moans.

"You were—fuck—using my ass."

"Oh." You pulled away, and as you thrust back into Lilia, her thighs snapped shut around your hand and wrist as the orgasm wracked through her and cum gushed into your palm.

Against her body's instincts, you pried her knees apart to save your lower arm from going numb. A small, wet spot stained the sheets, minor in comparison to other nights you'd had, but the weekend had just begun. You pressed a sloppy kiss to the peak of her mound and crawled up to lie beside her, draping your arm across her stomach to hold her through the aftershocks. She tended to be quite spent after this kind of thing.

"Was that a no?" she asked, still gulping down air. Her cheeks were so red that you pressed the back of your hand against them and her forehead to check for a fever. "I shouldn't have—"

"It wasn't. I was just surprised, that's all." You gave Lilia a reassuring squeeze. "A couple of months ago I thought most of the time you were doing me a favor, and now you're asking me... this."

"I didn't know you felt this way." Lilia swallowed, casting her gaze downward. "For the record, that's nonsense. I always liked being close to you, feeling your body and your touch. But I think..."

She trailed off, but you sensed that this was important and tried to encourage her. "Hm?"

"I think I didn't trust my body then," she said on an exhale. "That changed after we..."

"After you did that thing with your fist?"

Lilia laughed, wide and resonating. "Exactly."

You couldn't help but kiss her, wildly, rummaging through her curls and smiling against her mouth. Your lips refused to part for a while as your hands were busy roaming each other's curves, satiating yourselves.

Resting her nose against yours, Lilia finally continued, whispered, "It snowballed, and now... Now I can't stop thinking about all the things I want us to do to each other."

"Then let's not waste any time," you said, pecking the tip of her nose. "Are you good to go again?"

"If I can have some fun with this nice pair of tits," she traced a lazy pattern on the top of your breast, "I don't see why not."

You untangled yourself from her and slipped off the bed, stepping out of your pants and into the harness. Lilia's eyes raked over you, draped on her side like a goddess in a Renaissance painting. It made you want to feed her grapes, fill her cup, and make her ache with pleasure.

The light hit her just right, danced on the arch from the dip of her waist to her thigh, and made her silhouette glow. It was such a sunny day outside—almost a shame to spend it behind closed cream curtains that filtered it out. The strap-on you had chosen matched the set of lingerie you had bought for Lilia: golden shimmering silicone and white straps. You fixed everything in place and climbed into the bed again, dipping into the soft dream of a mattress, and reclined on your side facing Lilia, who, fearlessly, reached for the strap and began to stroke it between you.

Her eyes were an outpouring of love and lust, locked and dark on yours, as she whispered the spell under her breath, wrapping it around the strap. At first, you felt nothing but the sizzling tension between you two, but as she went on, chanting and caressing, the arousal that usually tickled your clit shifted, crept further down the strap, until it encompassed it from the root to the tip. It wasn't silicone Lilia curled her hand around, but a projection of you, a live one.

You caught your lip between your teeth. "Fuck, Lilia..."

"Told you it works." She kept rubbing the shaft while freeing your breasts from the bra; her hair tickled the tops as she pressed tender kisses to the valley between them. "I'll get you ready in no time."

"Same goes for you," you murmured in her ear, nibbling the shell while you reached behind her to the bottle of lube and poured some into your palm. Under your guidance, Lila bent one leg to give you access, and, to take the edge off, you ran your fingers through the dark nest of curls first and kissed under her jaw. She hummed as she worked you up, spreading a warm, tingling sensation in your groin. "Want me to start?"

"Hm-mh," she nodded, drawing in her bottom lip and looking up at you with those big puppy eyes. Nervousness reflected in them, but trust too as you rubbed the lube between your fingertips to warm it up a little and then brushed them along her dam down to her butt hole.

"Is that okay? Too cold?" you asked, beginning to circle the tight ring of muscles and lathering it up.

Lilia's hand had slowed, but you didn't mind. You wanted her to take the time she needed.

"You're always so gentle with me, baby," she purred, nosing at your clavicle. "So concerned."

"Because you're my precious..." you replied, pushing your chest out when Lilia drummed her fingertips against your nipple. "And I want to make you feel so good."

"You already are."

Her sphincter relaxed as you talked to her, allowing you to work the lube a bit further into it. You'd intended to give her your full attention, but her teeth grazing the underside of your breast made you pause. "I thought..." You hummed when she bit your nipple gently. "I thought this was about you?"

"Oh, it is, honey," she said, blowing air on the pebbled peak. "Just taking what I want."

Tentatively, you probed her narrow hole, giving small pulses to push past the loosening ring. Lilia stopped, her mouth opened, and she gasped out a puff of air that cooled the sweat on your cleavage. Her lubed-up anus relaxed as you worked her open with careful strokes, holding her safely in your arm and drawing circles on her lower back.

"Mind go blank?" you asked with a light, mocking undertone.

Lilia, anchoring herself, dug her nails into your hip, taking forced, deep breaths as you explored her with your finger. "It's... different."

"We don't have to go further if it's too much," you assured her. "We can just play a little and try again tomorrow?"

"I'm fine, sweetheart," Lilia said with fake annoyance and toyed with the strap of the harness around your hip, hooking her finger under it. With resolve, she kissed you and insisted, "I can take it."

Arousal washed over you, thick and boiling, and you pushed your finger all the way in up to the knuckle. A moan rumbled in Lilia's throat, and, to your surprise, you felt it in the very tip of the strap. "Damn it, Lilia. You and your ideas."

"It's good, isn't it?" She grinned. "I worked on the spell all month."

"Wait." You stilled your finger. "How did you test it?"

Tugging on a loose strand of hair, Lilia sent you a seductive look and said, "Use your imagination, darling."

You choked on your own saliva, and Lilia chuckled while your aforementioned imagination ran wild with images of Lilia wearing a strap and jerking off into her own hand, entertaining herself while you were working your ass off to pay for this.

Slipping your finger out, you gathered more lube up and this time pressed two fingers against her entrance. Lilia let go of you and put her hand on her knee, shifting around to find a comfortable angle. Your strap rested on her bush; her hairs prickled on it, and you felt the twitch of her pussy when you buried your two fingers in her ass.

Lilia hissed and grabbed for your shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut, but after a few slow pumps, the lines on her forehead eased, and her brows knitted together in a pleasurable expression as she let out a long breath. "Wow."

"I think we're almost there." You kissed the last remaining wrinkle on her forehead. "You're doing well."

The praise made her snuggle against your chest, though she did ask with some suspicion, "Have you done this before?"

"Maybe..."

"Well fuck me," she said. "Little minx."

Having her in a light mood gave you confidence, and while you prepared her ass for the strap, you took the strap in your hand and lazily brushed it through her slit, finding copious amounts of fresh wetness there. Sensitive, Lilia jerked and covered your hand with her own, slowing you down and taking over.

"It's quite a size," she commented as she fondled the tip, letting it sit between her folds without touching her clit.

"Yeah, I mean, I hadn't planned—it was meant to go in front."

"Because I'm all loose there, is that it?" Lilia challenged, eyes flashing at you with playful fire.

"Experienced is the word I'd choose," you teased back, pinching her ass cheek.

"Pfft," she pouted and lifted her nose. God, why was she so kissable? So ravageable? "C'mon then. If I'm so loose, then put your cock in me. We'll see if it fits."

"Your wish is my command," you said and helped Lilia turn in your arms, pressing her back to your chest, so that you could wrap your arm around her waist, just below her bust, and hold her snug. "Comfy?"

"You bet." She gripped the back of her knee and pulled her leg up, sinking into the pillow and closing her eyes. "Make Momma happy," she said with a breathy voice.

"Gladly." You kissed the spot below her ear and fisted the strap, gathering up lube and arousal from her pussy before guiding it backward. Positioning the head, you palmed her breast and rolled her nipple under your thumb, trailing kisses down the side of her neck. "Be good for me. Don't fight it. Yes?"

"Yeah," she whispered, relaxing into your arms as you pressed forth. Quiet groans rose in her throat, noises of mild discomfort you soothed with a gentle, massaging hand on her tit.

"Your ass is so tight," you purred in her ear, progressing inch by inch and feeling each one. "But I'll stretch you open with my cock."

"God-fuck!" Lilia buried her face in the pillow and hit the mattress with her fist. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Shhh," you hushed, brushing a wisp of hair behind her ear and retreating. "Let me fill you. You like being full, don't you?"

"Yes, oh, my—"

You helped her keep her leg up and open, pressing your hips flush to her supple butt as you slid back into her with more ease this time. "Like that," you rasped.

Lilia groaned, muffled in the pillow, and you drove the strap deeper into her until your thighs met her ass, and it didn't go any further—and then you wiggled it around, driving her crazy. Her moans came out broken and staggered. "Hng-oh-mh!"

She eased visibly as you drew out, and you gave a few small pulses with just the tip to get her used to the size. The sparkling gold reflected the soft light, shining even brighter with all this slick covering it. Watching it all go in—deeper, firmer, stretching her tiny, previously unused hole—you nearly blacked out with want. "You're a fucking goddess, Lilia. Fuck."

"Uh-huh? You think?" she panted, worked up by the repeated intrusion. "Fuck me like a goddess then."

Your hand traveled down her body, and you rubbed the heel of your hand over her pussy—so wet. Lilia whined as you curled your fingers against her entrance, fucked into her ass, and brushed her clit in the process—she absolutely twisted in the sheets. "Baby, fuck!" she screamed. "Harder—take me—"

Pushing Lilia onto her stomach, you laid down atop her, fitting your form perfectly to the curves of her back and nuzzled against the nape of her neck, nosing into the messy, sweaty curls. "I'll dump it all inside your ass. Like you wanted, my darling witch. Does that sound good?"

Lilia's thighs vibrated with need. She turned her head to the side to breathe, needing more air, more oxygen, more anything. You kneaded her round buttocks, salivating at the feeling of your fingers digging into your flesh. "God, yes, pound Momma raw! Please!"

Your thrusts were easy now, meeting no resistance. Spreading her cheeks, you spat between them, watching it trickle down around the cock bouncing in and out of the reddened hole. Your stomach was in a coil, you cunt, watering behind the strap that made you feel close to bursting. And you would.

"You sound so good begging like that," you panted, adjusting the straps on your hips to make them tight. "I want to hear more of it."

Snuggling up to Lilia, you kept your pumps hard and deep, knocking the air out of her lungs each time.

"Please, please, baby, my sweet baby," Lilia sob-moaned. "I need you, I need you."

"Yes!" You rutted into her, squishing out slick each time, setting a fast, reckless pace. "I can feel you squeezing me—so needy—fuck—gonna—"

"Oh-oh-oh-yes!" Her voice cracked, and her pitch leapt with your plows. "Give me your cum, sweetie! Give it to me!"

Using your whole body weight, draped over her back, you pounded her like a bull his cow, and the string inside you pulled taut, thinned, and ripped. It happened. It actually happened. Viscous fluid spurted out of the strap, and thanks to the enchantment, you felt it release into her, felt it coat the inside of her ass.

"Ohhhhhhhhh!" Lilia fell into a seemingly never-ending cry as you snapped your hips to her ass one last time. Then you pulled out, flipped her over, and the last wave of your orgasm shot one last string of cum out of the strap that rained down white all over her tits and stomach.

She trembled like a fawn; even her teeth chattered and her breaths came quick, but the expression on her face was gold as she glanced down on her body and brought her shaking fingers to the squirts of your ejaculate. The rest of it trickled out of her red-rimmed, gaping anus.

You were so drained—literally and figuratively—that all you could do was flop down beside her and grasp for Lilia's hand. She took it in hers and held it until both of you had processed what you'd done. The spell wore off, and you removed the harness. When you settled back into the pillows, you noticed Lilia was still staring ahead with her mouth open.

"Was it too much?" you asked, squeezing her hand a couple of times.

"It was everything I wanted," she said with a sense of helplessness. "My mind is just..."

"Empty? Quiet?"

Lilia nodded. You'd experienced something similar after she'd fisted you and understood the fragile but peaceful state it had put her in. With a mind like Lilia's, it might do her good. Pulling the down duvet up, you shifted her upper body into your arms, having her rest on your chest, and covered her.

Even a goddess needs aftercare.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

A/N: first time writing f/f anal I think and it's not my favourite thing but the request was essentially "Lilia getting fucked hard in the ass" so I hope I delivered. Cheers friends, I've been busy with work no time to be horny :)

will I start using this app? should I post the other chapters here too?

[gnohomotho]

Hello there,

Valentines day tomorrow, and ofc i am a lonely gorl, so i thought about husband!junho making the day special for his wife? Fluff, fluff, fluff bc i am sensetive lol

Keep up the good work btw

You are doing amazing on here ❤️❤️😚

Aww, Anon, sending a big virtual hug your way. ♥ I'm sorry you're a lonely gorl. :c I am too, so please, I really hope this eases the loneliness just a little bit!

I have one slightly longer, but hopefully fluffy and very loving piece specially for Valentine's Day.

Thank you so, so very much, it truly means a lot to me. ♥♥♥ c':

(And if you like it, I really appreciate the reblogs, you're all so very lovely!)

Enjoy! .

.

.

Even If You Had Walked Away

Pairing: husband!Jun-ho x wife!f!reader Summary: Valentine's Day hides more than just a loving date for you, and Jun-ho knows this very well. It is a reminder of a day he almost lost you - and he has a surprise for you, for all those years, in one single evening. Warnings: Fluff! So much fluff. A tiny bit of angst, but I promise it ends in fluff. Please pack your insulin. Word count: 3.2k A/N: I hope you feel lovely on this day and all the next. ♥ Love your requests and your messages! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶𐭩 ♡

Oh.

This day.

Valentine’s Day.

Somehow, each year, you managed to find a way to plan over it, and Jun-ho just as meticulously managed to pull you back in.

Last year, it was notes left around the house, your car suspiciously warm before you got in, and your favourite breakfast cooked before you left. He knew you would be worried about big gestures – he knew, but not quite, what the day signified for you. So when you saw him in the kitchen, after a sleepy kiss on his neck as he slowly turned around to greet you, you expected nothing more.

“Darling?” You looked at him softly, a little quizzically, as you always do when you’re a bit worried things aren’t as fine as they seem. You did so as you pulled away from the cuddle and felt his body pull with yours, not wanting to leave your embrace or your warmth.

One strong arm was still holding yours – lightly, but with deep affection. Jun-ho did not wish to sever the connection between you by letting go even for a second. Slowly he slid his arm around you, letting it rest against your back, should he need to pull you close again.

You waited for your answer but could not resist the peaceful warmth of the moment, and lifted a hand – tenderly brushing the hair from his forehead and sliding down to cup his cheek. Instinctively, Jun-ho closes his eyes and leans into your palm, caressing you as he does so.

Even as your touch leaves, he remains quiet, and you look at your husband with new eyes. Still in casual clothing, still just your Jun-ho, swaying with you in his favourite black v-neck shirt that you associate with only him and his sleepy form.

How many nights have you woken up to this shape, this broad chest, inches from yours...or suddenly lifting and falling peacefully against your own heart.

How many times have those strong arms unabashedly stolen your much contested blanket only to wrap you up thoroughly in its place.

How many times did those legs lovingly intertwine with yours the moment your alarm clock rang, his sleepy voice murmuring sweet nothings of discontent and forcing you to set your alarms ten minutes before their actual time because his legs and fervour at keeping you close were strong.

And somehow, with your thigh firmly against his, aided by his own, your calves wrapped in his warmth and so very close, your tummy tucked so comfortably and perfectly to your sleeping love you could feel him breathe, well, you learned to set your alarm a full half hour before its actual time.

And now, though his form looms over you, you feel entirely safe; though it is snowing fluffy snowflakes outside, you are brimming with fluttering, affectionate warmth that could keep a fireplace alight for days. Though the day isn’t your happiest, you might as well have forgotten the number on the calendar.

And Jun-ho, with his gentle smile reaching his eyes, was only swaying with you ever se so slightly as he held your hips, thumbs tucked up against your waist; the smile was cheeky, but incredibly sweet.

You melt in his touch and almost let a little laugh carry the mood – he couldn’t look cunning or devilish if he tried. Not to you. But he was trying, and you did not wish to ruin his sincere attempts.

“Hmm?” He humms with a little inflection, nonchalantly, still smiling. As if saying “nothing to see here, officer,” though he was obviously not used to being on the other side of the law. And it showed. Before you answer, Jun-ho almost unnoticeably shifts you with a gentle tug where his arms and fingers rest against your skin – you notice nothing but a little dig into each of your hips – and kisses your forehead the moment gravity trips you into him. Clever, you grin into the crane of Jun-ho’s neck and kiss his chin in retaliation.

“I don’t think all is going according to schedule, sweetheart.” He pulls away and smiles the sentence into existence, a hint of genuine care for your wellbeing crossing his visage. Jun-ho’s eyes move towards the window, then to your phone resting on the table. You follow his gaze and your heart momentarily sinks.

“Are we seriously getting snowed in? How will I get to…”

“I’m pretty sure that phone lit up with messages regarding not coming to work, darling…and,” Jun-ho looks upwards as if thinking, truly acting his way into the Oscars here, playfully ponders around, “if I know anything about the wiring and the outlay of that building, I am highly inclined to assume you’d be sitting by candlelight, using folded paper in place of a computer if you really wanted to try and keep up appearances.”

After a small moment, he added, “and I don’t want my Y/N alone by candlelight with anyone else, thank you very much.”

He kisses your forehead again without warning, but you feel him smile into the kiss. As he pulls away, you almost regret brushing his hair away from his forehead, because that single eyebrow lift abetted by that absolutely cheeky smile should be illegal.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You did your best trying to work from home, finding it very hard to focus. The nicer and more wistful your thoughts were towards Jun-ho, the more a slight pang of guilt tore its way into your chest.

A few years ago, you almost broke up.

And the thought cementing it, the thought where you couldn’t keep it up anymore...came on Valentine’s Day.

You did not wish to do it then (as mean as it was clichéd) and Jun-ho laid it all out on the table – a beautiful dinner date and absolute honesty. You fell in love with him, then, all over again, when you truly thought it would be a sad end to a broken coupling.

Many things played their part back then – his secrecy, his constant disappearing, his excuses for being gone for so long.

His face was so very troubled back then, deepened with new stress lines and new worries each time you saw him – each time, the moments you spent apart seemed to use a sharper knife on his face whenever they returned him back to you.

Sometimes you worried they would keep him.

You were suffocating and so incredibly distraught. When he left. You worried. When he was with you. He wasn’t. Not truly. And you worried more.

The weight that he refused to share with you was dragging you both down into the depths of the ocean and no matter how much you tried, how strong your grip, how intricate your angle – you could not unravel him from whatever was at the end of the rope.

Somehow, you even tried to suspect cheating, though you knew he would never do that – simply for the fact that whatever he was doing was far more dangerous than another woman. And through all, you truly, deeply cared about Jun-ho. And Jun-ho knew that what you had between you, the love he held for you and the love held in your tender chest for him – held the sharpest blade of all.

What was it, back then? Your love extended past simple ownership or relationship status – if he were to be with someone else or alone, but safe and content, sleeping through the night, you would very bitterly but gladly swallow that pill. And he knew it. He knew it and sensed you pulling away.

Jun-ho wasn’t content with distance from you, never. One day, he came back, close to this particular date. His hair was dishevelled, his clothes smelling of salt and seawater, his eyes dim and tired, and his hands covered in scrapes and scratches.

But his eyes, his eyes stared into yours with resolute burning depth, speaking with no words necessary. Jun-ho loved you, and did not wish to lose you, nor endanger you, and he was as lost in the cruelty of the situation as you were. But above it all was a silent promise. Your mind wanders away, for its own safety, as your eyes begin to sparkle – your skin suddenly enveloped in frost.

Doubts. Worries.

Is he happy? Is he regretting the choice? Did I mess up a loving date forever and remind him each year? Does he ever wish to…go back and reverse it all? All of it? Go back to a time he never met me, go back and erase the wedding, the proposal, was there ever any doubt in that lovely smile?

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

A little knock on the door to your make-shift office alerts you from tables and notes. You look up, and realise the soft orange light reflecting the snowy cape on your window is the streetlamp, and it is dark outside.

“Yes?”

Jun-ho slowly opens the door, dressed in a comfortable, but elegant sweater, long dark trousers, and sensible socks.

You blink.

You blink again.

“Jun-ho? Is…what’s going on?”

He can’t be going anywhere, the snow outside is as beautiful and tranquil as it is all-enveloping.

Jun-ho says nothing, a knowing smile dancing on his lips as he stands in the door; he makes a small leaning motion with his neck, closing his eyes as he points out of your door without using a single word. He had the air of someone who knows all there is to know, and what he doesn’t does not matter.

And in this moment, you were all he wished to know.

“I’ll just…I’ll just put on something nice, you look too lovely.”

You manage to stutter, but he has already covered half your distance and is extending a hand to you.

“You look beautiful, my love. You always look beautiful. I have never seen you in a piece of clothing that could even begin to rival your features, Y/N. Come.”

You take his hand and he leads you to the living room. You adjust your eyes to the reassuring darkness that is softly illuminated by guttering candlelight of many, many little flames.

They hop as you disturb the air – dancing and fluttering in seemingly the same anticipation you are feeling in your chest. Cushions are arranged into a cute, comfy, fort-like bed. A little makeshift table sits in the middle, your favourite flower resting upon it next to a meal you…you shared on the day a few years ago.

He…he remembers.

Your hand grips Jun-ho’s, both to steady itself and to convey your utter adoration for your husband.

In this moment. In the next. In all moments to come.

You are lost for words, heart beating out of your chest, you wish to thank him, to hold him, to jump into his arms and push him into the pillows he so lovingly arranged – you want to whisper sweet ‘I love yous’ into his neck and chest and hear his heart jump at each touch, you want to melt in his arms and his tenderness and lose your train of thought.

“Jun-ho…this is…this is so beautiful, I don’t know what to say…”

But Jun-ho pulls away from you, still holding both your hands, now standing far enough to leave both your arms extended. His eyes rest upon you with affectionate tranquility – his fingers are softly circling yours as he holds you. Slowly he lets go of your hand and lifts a single finger to his mouth, in a small hushing motion. You say nothing more, but your melted heart doesn’t do well with surprises. Not on this day.

Jun-ho turns and leaves your other hand empty, taking the flower from the table and resting it in his place.

It’s beautiful, gentle, elegant. Your very favourite. You close your eyes and inhale its smell.

Jun-ho watches you intently. Eyes filled with the same knowing adoration he watched you with all those years ago. He wonders how he managed to get so very lucky. How foreign the thought of you seemed back then.

You, standing in your shared living room, smelling a flower and blissfully, beautifully, utterly his to love and cherish.

His wife – with her hair cascading down like a beautiful river, the lines of worry gone from her face, her tender eyes that could spark a fire in a lake now peaceful, loving, resting upon a flower as beautiful as her.

You notice the slow fall of his eyelids as he watches you, eyes closing in adoration and joining a subtle, guarded smile. Jun-ho clears his throat and leans back to the makeshift table, pulling a note from behind the candle in its centre.

Was it your imagination or did his hands shiver in the flame’s warm light?

“Y/N…my Y/N…” he begins, and no, that wasn’t your imagination. The paper contracted a wave from his grip as he steadied his breath.

“I…know what today represents. To you. To us.”

He looks up, looks at you, steadies his breath, and the smile nervously spreads – but you see the fervour in his expression to keep matters serious.

Jun-ho continues, eyes firmly buried in the letter.

“But I don’t think you know what it represents to me.”

Oh.

A twinge of worry. Ice prickles the small of your back. Those doubts threaten to break the warm atmosphere, yet he continues.

“It’s the day I almost lost what was most dear to me.”

Your eyebrows stiffen as your gaze fills with both concern for him and a need to hold him tight.

“I felt you slipping away each day, and with that, I felt as if I was losing parts of myself. As if each heartbeat in your presence catalysed by your warmth, by your presence alone, wasn’t mine to keep anymore."

"Each touch we shared, each breath I exhaled – it was as if all the warmth in me, all the good things that were growing so few and far between within me back then, all of them wished to remain with you."

"And I am sorry, my sweet, my darling Y/N…I am sorry that I, for even a moment, almost let them leave with you."

"I knew you would keep them safe, I knew you would hold them, protect them, care for them with the tenderness and love you hold in your heart for each being you encounter – and you would expect nothing in return."

"I watched sorrow, worry, frustration and finally, the most painful of all…acceptance caress your beautiful face and shine through your eyes. Dimming those unconditionally accepting eyes I did not deserve."

"Offering a pale reflection of what was left of me without you.”

Your hands were trembling. His large yet gentle form in front of you was losing its sharp lines; the scene began to blur into a soft orange hue as you realised your eyes failed to hold onto their tears. Though it was Jun-ho, he seemed…so very delicate in this moment. Laying himself utterly bare before you. Your heart was sending ripples through your body. You wished to hold him, kiss him, reassure him. But remained still. Your husband continued.

“Each year, I wrote down what was following me every time I thought of that night. I wrote of what I love about you – but managed to run out of paper.”

He let out a small, self-soothing chuckle, failing to meet your eyes, and you noticed the candles reflecting a few errant sparkles in their corner. Oh, Jun-ho…

He blinked his eyes quite harshly and continued.

“So I wrote down all the reasons…you should be happy without me.”

He breathed out a faintly shaking breath and let the silence speak for him. Exhaling once more, he now sounded like the weight was beginning to leave his chest and grip his shoulders with less strength.

“Which proved incredibly fruitless.” Jun-ho straightened, narrowing his eyes towards the paper, still avoiding yours.

“Not that you did not deserve to be happy, not that the reasons weren’t both valid and sound – but I refused to let you go without a fight. To lose something I breathe for, someone I keep safe in a place inside of my heart no one else may enter, come hell or high water, someone whose voice alone brings nothing but joy and serenity to all it touches…losing that…by doing nothing but letting her go?”

Jun-ho finally looked up at you, eyes sparkling, and that smile – that beautiful, wide smile you loved so much, underlining his words:

“Well, we couldn’t have that.”

You let out a quiet, incredibly nervous yet sweet noise that was intended to be laughter before it got caught in your throat. Tears fall once again, the motion and exhale alleviating the built tension in your heart and chest.

Tension and strain caught wrestling with a wave of all-encompassing love aimed straight for Jun-ho.

It was already flooding you from tip to toe, and you had no words. No words at all. Your hand slowly lifts up to your lips, shielding your mouth as you try to hide your expression, your tears, your smile – and still, Jun-ho continues.

“So each year, I wrote something else. Something concerning every reason I would fight for you again.”

He lowered the paper now, arms at his sides, looking directly at you.

“And again, and again, and again if needed.”

You let your hand leave your mouth, slowly letting it fall to your side too, caught in the waves starting to pool in the soles of your feet, you were sure he had to feel them too.

“Unfortunately,” he half-laughed, half smiled, getting rid of the last of the tension in his body as he rested the letter back on the table, “the weight of that almanac threatened to break our bookshelf.”

Jun-ho stepped closer to you, beckoning your hand with his slowly extending, up-turned palm. You laid yours upon it immediately, relishing the familiar safety, the beautiful warmth, the love emanating from each brush of his fingertips.

“And although the physical copy exists, safely stored away, I thought it better to translate every word for my wife into a language she might prefer.”

Jun-ho closes the distance between you and softly places his other arm around your waist, resting his hand in the small of your back.

With a small pull, he softly, leans into you and kisses your forehead.

“A language which I would most certainly love to express.”

He kisses the bridge of your nose right between your brows, slowly planting kisses down to the tip of your nose, then finally, finally ending upon your mouth. Jun-ho’s soft lips caress yours without kissing just yet, brushing, enjoying, cherishing…a tender whisper circles your ear:

“Would that be alright, miss Y/N? I hear your husband is terrible with words.”

You both start giggling at the same exact second, momentarily leaving each other’s lips to bask in the intimacy and bliss of the moment.

“Of course, Jun-ho, I mean, Mr. Officer and Official Translator, I would be delighted to learn.”

Jun-ho needed no further signal to scoop you up into his arms as if it were nothing to him, momentarily holding and enjoying your warmth, your laughter, your body against his. With a little circling motion he holds you closer, squeezing you tight and softly, gently, without letting even an inch of skin go without his touch, lays you into the pillows below.

And follows straight after with that beautiful, mischievous grin you fell in love with all those years ago.

[apartfromgod]

SHAUNAHAT SMUT BECAUSE I'M STILL NOT OVER THAT FUCKING KISS. mdni, as per usual, but if you do want to read, actual smut starts after melissa says "okay, ready." :D

To say that Shauna was surprised, would be an understatement. Well— She'd suspected that Melissa was, y'know.. like that, but more for Gen, than, well, her.

But it was her. Is, her? Whatever. The semantics of it all aren’t really in the forefront of her mind, while she’s pushing up against, grinding up against Melissa. She spares an errant thought about the bark of the tree on her back. Decides she doesn’t care enough to slow down, to be gentle, to think about what Melissa needs, when her minds this frenzied.

She’s always been a little selfish. Sue her.

What she does focus on, however - ignoring the way she’s becoming increasingly aware of an almost painful, dizzying heat between her legs - is the knife in her hand.

The knife at Melissa’s throat.

She should move it away, right? Wrong, if the way Melissa gasped, sharp and quick, when she accidentally pushed it against her a little harder.

And, oh, Shauna can get behind that. Which is good, because she wasn't going to move it anyway.

She presses harder still, movements more purposeful, as a hand winds its way up, into her hair. Tugs hard at the strands, relishes in the way it feels against her palm, at the whimper Melissa grants her. Her hairs wrapped around her fingers— Brittle, yet somehow slightly wet, where it’s caked in dirt.

She likes that. That Melissa’s dirty. That she’s not trying to pretend like the others. Pretend they’re not stuck in the fucking Wilderness, with only a lake, and their own willpower to clean themselves.

(Shauna’s not got much willpower left. Hasn’t made the trek down to the lake in a week, or so. Doesn’t mind the dirt. It’s become almost comforting, in a way.)

So, yeah. All in all, Shauna’s not too upset about the turn of events.

Especially not, when her thigh slips in-between Melissa’s, and the girl lets out a probably-too-loud moan, as she grinds down on it.

“Shut the fuck up.” She presses the knife in deeper, hopes she draws blood.

She had to break away from the kiss to speak, and an odd feeling washes over her, as she looks back at Melissa.

Guilt, maybe, for what she’s doing. For using her. But then it’s gone in a second, and she drops the knife, barely wincing when she feels it nick her calf on the way down, to start mouthing at her neck.

Marking her would do her no good. She doesn’t care about the others, but she’d rather not deal with the argument of it all anyway. Or the reminder.

Melissa’s saying something. Has been saying something.

“—even know if you liked girls. I thought, like, maybe it was just me. And Tai and Van, duh, but—“

Shauna scoffs. Wonders if she ever shuts the fuck up. Or if she ever takes that dumb fucking hat off.

“Get on your knees.”

Oh.

She’s not too sure where that came from, but she can’t deny that she doesn’t relish in the fucking power she feels, as the other girl scrambles to follow her orders.

Her orders. Not Lottie, or Tai, or fucking Nat. Hers. Shauna’s.

She undoes the button of her own shorts, shoves them down, along with her underwear. Lets them strain over her thighs, as she pushes Melissa's head between them, when—

“Shit, wait, let me just-“

She almost laughs, when she sees her bring her hands up, to flip the stupid pink cap on her head around. She doesn’t, of course, but her lips twitch upwards without her permission anyway.

“Okay, ready.”

And, God, she wasn’t lying. Moves forward, and nestles her head between Shauna’s thighs with so much vigor, that she has to reach out, and hold onto the tree for stability.

And, not that she’ll ever say it out loud, but holy fuck she’s good. In the way where you can tell someone’s done this before, fucked up, and worked hard to make it perfect.

Which- it might just be, when she starts sucking at her clit.

It makes Shauna’s eyes widen, as she chokes back a moan, head dropping forward.

When she opens her eyes again, she stares down at Melissa. Watches.

If she’s honest, which, isn’t often, she’d say she was impressed. Impressed, that Melissa’s somehow completely fucking unraveling her.

But again, she’s not honest, so she chalks it up to the fact that it’s been a while, and grunts as her fingers dig into the bark. Keens at the way it tears at her skin, and bends her nail back in a way that’s blurring the lines between pain, and pleasure.

Draws from the sensation, as her mouth drops open in a silent moan, feels as her cunt pulses around nothing.

She can see herself becoming addicted to the feeling. Melissa, in turn.

But then she’s huffing out a breath, shoving Melissa away, until she’s groaning against the tree, winded, and pulling her clothes back up with a haste she didn’t know she possessed outside of a hunt.

She clears her throat, refusing to meet Melissa’s eyes, and she leans down to pick her knife back up. Something calms in her chest, when she can feel the familiar rough texture against her palms. Something in her heart mourns that it’s no longer Melissa’s hair.

“Say a word of this to anyone, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

She doesn’t look back, as she walks off.

[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

Be my Valentine? Mattheo Riddle (1/2)

Mattheo Riddle had never been the type to get all soft and sentimental, which is exactly why his friends were completely dumbfounded when they caught wind of his elaborate plans for Valentine’s Day.

“You—you actually planned something?” Theo stammered, watching as Mattheo adjusted the bouquet of enchanted blue roses in his hands. They shimmered slightly, their petals shifting between different shades of blue—Ravenclaw colors, of course.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “You do realize what day it is, right? Valentine’s Day, not April Fool’s.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Yes, Draco, I’m aware.”

Lorenzo let out a low whistle. “Wow. You’re really in deep, mate.”

Mattheo just smirked, shoving his friends aside as he made his way toward the Ravenclaw common room. The whole castle had been buzzing about the infamous Slytherin bad boy actually putting effort into something romantic—a rare sight, indeed.

But when he finally saw you, his usually cocky demeanor faltered just a bit. You were sitting by the fireplace, nose buried in a book as always, completely oblivious to the whispers of students watching to see what he'd do.

Clearing his throat, Mattheo stepped forward. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love,” he said, holding out the bouquet.

You blinked up at him, clearly surprised. “You… got me flowers?”

Mattheo chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. They’re enchanted. Thought you’d appreciate the charm work.”

You smiled, setting your book aside and taking the bouquet. “They’re beautiful.”

The whispers around you grew louder as Mattheo suddenly pulled out a small wrapped box from his pocket. “And, uh, I also got you this.”

The entire room went dead silent.

Theo, watching from the entrance, nearly choked. “A gift too?! Is he possessed?”

Ignoring them, you unwrapped the box, revealing a delicate silver bracelet with a tiny raven charm dangling from it. Your heart melted. “Mattheo, this is—this is perfect.”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but the pink dusting his cheeks gave him away. “Figured you deserved something nice. You put up with me, after all.”

You grinned before standing on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best.”

Mattheo smirked, throwing an arm around you as he turned toward his dumbfounded friends. “See? Told you I could be romantic.”

Draco shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

Theo just sighed. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

But Mattheo didn’t care. Not when he had you smiling at him like that.

You laced your fingers through Mattheo’s, ignoring the way his friends were still staring at him like he’d grown a second head. It wasn’t every day that the infamous Slytherin bad boy voluntarily planned something thoughtful—let alone something as sweet as this.

Mattheo, never one to enjoy being the center of attention for this kind of thing, turned to his friends with an unimpressed look. “Are you lot done gawking, or should I put on a whole bloody performance?”

Theo crossed his arms. “I mean, at this point, you might as well. Maybe recite a sonnet?”

Draco snorted. “Or get down on one knee?”

Mattheo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin, you lot are insufferable.” But then he turned back to you, his fingers playing with the bracelet now fastened around your wrist. His voice dropped to something quieter, meant just for you. “I do have more planned, if you’re up for it.”

Your brows lifted in amusement. “Oh? What else does the great Mattheo Riddle have in store?”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

Before you could respond, Pansy Parkinson strolled past, doing a double take when she saw the two of you. Her eyes flickered to the flowers, the bracelet, and the way Mattheo’s hand was still holding yours. “No way.” She turned to the group. “Alright, which one of you Obliviated him?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, but before his friends could add more commentary, he tugged you toward the door. “Come on, love, let’s get out of here before they start a betting pool on whether or not I’ve lost my mind.”

“Too late,” Theo called after him.

As you walked down the corridor together, you looked up at him, your heart warm at the effort he’d put into today. “You really didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

He glanced down at you, his usual smirk softening. “I wanted to.” He squeezed your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re my girl, and I figured… well, you deserve something special.”

Your smile was radiant, and Mattheo felt something unfamiliar stir in his chest—something warm, something undeniably real.

You squeezed Mattheo’s hand, warmth spreading through you at his words. The boy who was known for his sharp tongue, reckless behavior, and general disregard for authority had just planned an entire Valentine’s surprise for you. If that wasn’t shocking enough, he actually seemed nervous about it—like he genuinely cared about making the day special.

“So,” you said, nudging him playfully as you walked, “where are you taking me, Riddle?”

His smirk returned, the mischief back in his eyes. “Patience, love. You’ll see soon enough.”

Despite the vague answer, he led you with confidence through the castle, his pace quickening as you reached the grand staircase. Students whispered as you passed, still in disbelief that Mattheo Riddle—the Mattheo Riddle—was walking hand-in-hand with his Ravenclaw girlfriend, looking genuinely happy about it.

When you finally reached the Astronomy Tower, you gasped softly. The usually cold and dimly lit space had been transformed. A thick enchanted blanket covered the stone floor, radiating warmth, while floating lanterns hovered around, casting a soft golden glow. A small spread of food was laid out—chocolate, fresh fruit, and what looked like your favorite pastries from Hogsmeade.

You turned to Mattheo, eyes wide. “You… did all this?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets, but you didn’t miss the way his ears turned pink. “Well, I had some help with the food. Obviously I wasn’t about to bake or some shit.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, his gaze meeting yours, something softer in his expression now, “I figured you deserved something nice. Something… I dunno, special.”

Your heart clenched. The notorious Slytherin troublemaker, the boy who acted like he didn’t care about anything, had gone through all this effort for you.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you stood on your toes and cupped his face, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He stilled for half a second before melting into it, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you closer.

When you pulled away, you grinned. “You’re actually a big softie, aren’t you?”

Mattheo groaned, resting his forehead against yours. “Don’t let that get around, love. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

You giggled, tugging him down onto the enchanted blanket with you. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

As the two of you sat together, sharing chocolate and watching the stars, Mattheo realized something—he didn’t mind being soft, not when it was with you.